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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
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L. C. PAGE & COMPANY

53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.

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

L. C. Page & Company

(incorporated)

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.

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

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

'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

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-

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."

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'^

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;i<k'il, f have always heard. Now, why
should two red marks en the six of clubs cause him
to make a fool of himself? Ft was y(ning Marsh,
I believe, who had the card dealt to him."

" N'es, David Marsh got the card," replied
Ray ton.

" Then why didn't he raise a row, if there's any-
thing terrible in those marks?"

" it did not mean anything to him, evidently;
but I'd swear it did to llarley. I've heard of such
things at home in l£ngland. I don't take any stock
in them myself."

" Neither do I. But it's queer that the marks
should have been there."

" Yes," said Rayton, and stepped over to the
table.

" You neeiln't look for the card," said the old
man. " Nash took it away with him. Last fall
he tracked a m(V)sc across a plowed field, and he
has considered himself something of a detective
ever since."

The young Ijiglishman laughed with a pre-

The Game Tha t Was Not Finished 11

occupied note. He stood in front of the open
stove, warming the seat of his London-cut hrceches.
"It is queer that those marks shouM he diere,"
he said, " hut it is still (piccrcr that ihey should put
Harlcy in such a wax. Suppose / had put the
crosses there, for instance — well, the thing would
he just as .|uetr. wouldn't it ? A knowledge of
how the marks got on the card would not explain
Harley'a hehavior."

"You are right," returned the old man dryly.
"And Harley was right, too, when he said that
you are not such a fool as the people of Samson's
Mill Setilement diink you."
Rayton laughed frankly.

" You spoke of not liaving a drop of red ink in
the house; hut you did not mention — to me, at
least — a drop of anything else," continued the

other.

"1 heg ymn- pardon!" exclaimed Rayton.
" This mystery has (juite muddled me. I'm awfully
sorry, really."

He bustled about and i)laccd a bottle of whisky,
a jug of fresh water, and two glasses on the

table.

'• Don't apologize, Reginald." said Wigmore.
with a Ihin smile. •" it is not ^jfien you forget to

A Rackvvoods Mystery

offer hospitality. The fact is, you are a bit too
hospitable. You'll be giving away the clothes off
your back next — even those elegant looking p;.nts,
perhaps."

"Oh, come now!" remonstrated the younger
man, pulling at his straw-colured mustache, and
grinning sheepishly.

" \'ou must have a pot of money, Reginald,"
said the other.

"Heavens! No!"

" Then why did you give all that tea and sugar
to that old s(iuaw, Molly Canadian — and two baV-
rels of potatoes to Frank Gorman?"

"How- do you know that?" cried Rayton,
astonished.

The captain helped himself to whisky. "I keep
my eyes about me," he said complacently. " I know
pretty much everything that goes on 'round this
settlement."

" Then I wish you knew the secret of Jim Har-
ley's queer behavior to-night — and how that card
came to be marked," replied Rayton.

The old man laughed aloud — a thing that was
rare with him. " That is asking too much," he said.
" I'm not a w^izard, Reginald. But I venture *^o
say that, if I gave my mind lo it, I'd have the

The Game That Was Not Finished 13

mystery entirely solved before that Smart Alec
of a Nash has so much as picked up the right
scent."

" I quite believe you," returned Rayton. " Do
you know, captain," he aJ>dc(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

A Backwoods JVIystcry

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

,,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

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

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."

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."

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 —

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

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

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

/ Backwoods Mystery

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 <Mily a few days before
he expected to have his ship ready for a voyage
to the West Indies, he was walking home about
ten o'clock in the evening and met a bunch of his
friends. They were going to have supper at a
hotel and then finish the night at card playing.
Well, my father was a light-hearted lad, with a
pocketful of money and a taste for jolly com-
pany; so he joined the gang. The game they
played was whist. Suddenly my father jumped to
his feet, his face as red as fire, and tore one of
the cards into little bits and flung them on the
floor.

" ' You may consider that a joke — whoever did

Jim Harlcy Tells an Old Stoiy 27

it -but it's a danin poor joke!' he cried. He
vas a good man, but soinetiiiies he got boiling
mad. Some of the lads asked him what was the
trouble, and one young fellow picked up the scraps
of the torn card and found the two red crosses.
' S(jme one here knows what the trouble is,' yelled
my father, 'and if he'll just stand up and confess
to his ungentlemanly joke, I'll smack him across
the face for his trouble.'

" Nobody stood up, you may bet your hat on
that; but when the lad who had picketl up the
scraps of card began handing them around, a lot
of them began to laugh and jeer, and make fun
of the sailor. Most of them had heard the old
lady tell about the Spanish count, you know.
' Better make your will,' said one. ' That's a dan-
gerous family to monkey with,' said another.
' Glad I'm not in your boots.' * It's the Spaniard's
ghost.' ' Better break it off, Tom, and look 'round
for a safer wife.' ' The other chap who got the
red marks was a sailor, too.'

" And so they shouted things at him until he
was mad enough to kill somebody. But he couldn't
tackle them all. So he called them a lot of hard
names. He told them that the sailors aboard his
ship had a better idea of a joke and better man-

.\.

Backwodds Mystery

III'

ncrs iliaii ihcy hail. They hcj^'aii to (|uiet down,
then, and sunie of thcni looked mighty red in the
face, for every lad there considered himself some-
thing [jrctty extra when it came to style and man-
ners. My father finished by saynig that the trick
they had played and the things they had said to
him were insults to two ladies who had never done
any of them a shadow of harm. Most of them
jumped up and yelled that they knew nothing about
any trick, and hadn't meant to insult any one; but
my father just glared and sneered at them, and
left the room. He was just a skipper r '^ a sailing
ship, but he had been brought up with pretty strict
notions about manners, and insults, and those kinds
of things.

" He had just reached the street w'hen one of
the others — a lad called Jackson — came jumping
after him and grabbed him by the back of the neck.
This Jackson was as white as paper, he was that
mad. ' I'll teach you your proper place, you damn
fo'castle swine ! ' he yelled, striking my father in
the face with his free hand. Well, my father
jerked himself clear and Hve him one on the
jaw that put him to sleep for an hour or
two."

At this, Harley halted in his talk, and his walk,

Jim Harlcy Tells an Old Story 29

at one and the same moment, and began to cut
tobacco for his pipe.

" Go ahead! " exclaimed young Marsh.

" Well, all that row was kept quiet," continued
Harley. " My father sailed away - and then
came a report that pieces of the wreck of his ship
had gone ashore on the Bahamas. Then people
who knew about the marked card began to talk.
It looked as if what the Spanish count had said,
in the old days — or what people supposed he had
said — had some truth in it. His girl — she who
was afterward my mother — near^ went crazy.
Then, one fine day, my father turned up, sound
as a bell — the only survivor of the wreck of his
ship. He got his share of the underwriter's money,
and invested it in a one-third interest in another
and smaller vessel. He had no trouble in getting
the job of skipper of her; but he had plenty of
trouble with his sweetheart and her parents, for
they were all sure that the red crosses were really
the marks of the devil and had caused the loss
of his ship. My father laughed at them; and well
he might, since his ship had gone down in a hurri-
cane that had wrecked half a dozen other vessels,
and he was the only man to be saved from all his
crew. 'If the devil had anything to do with it,'

A liackwoods Mystery

lie said, ' he certa-'iily luade a mess of it.' But it
took him a whole week to calm them down and get
the girl's promise to marry him on his return from
his next voyage.

"On the very night bef(jrc he was to sail, when
he was on his way to the ship from s.'iying good-hy
to my mother and the old people, a man sprang
out inmi behind a pile of lumber on one of the
wharves, and struck at him; but my father jumped
back in time and struck in return with a loaded
stick which he carried. The man let a yelp of pain
out oi him, and ran up the wharf to the dark
streets of the city. My father struck a light and
presently found something that he had heard drop
on the planks when die fellow yelped — a long
knife with a point sharp as a needle.

" He went aboard his ship, wrote a letter, packed
up the knife in a box, and first thing in the morn-
ing sent both letter and knife ashore to a magis-
trate. Then he sailed avvay. He returned after
three rrionths, with a cargo of sugar and molasses
— and his left arm in a sling. He had been
stabbed, one night, in Bridgetown, Barbados. That
was a thing that did no,' often happen in Barbados.

" Immediately upon his return, he made quiet
inquiries for young Mr. Jacks(m. But Jackson had

Jim Harlcy Tells an Old Story .'H

gone away, tnnnths before. 'I'licre had been some
talk about .ic ijobic goinj^' to look for Jackson
too, just about thf time my father had sailed away.
My father never gave the red crosses two thoughts;
but he often remembered the look in Jackson's
face that night they h.ad fought in the street after
the game of cards.

" Well, they married, and my father gave up
the sea, moved to the mouth of the Miramichi, and
started shipbuilding. That was on my mother's
account. He did a good business, and they were
happy. I was their first child. Five years later,
Nell came. Ab(nit six months after liiat an en-
velope was left at the house for him by a poor
old half-witted character in the town, who had once
been a sailor. When my father came home from
the office he r.pened the envelope — and out fell a
blue backed playing card onto the carpet. My
mother went into a dead faint, without waiting
to see the face of it. When my father turned it
over, there were the two red crosses!"

" Did they catch Jackson?" asked David Marsh.

" No," --eturned Ilarley. " Mj father ran out of
the house, maybe to find the poor half-wit who
had brought it to him, and he was shot dead within
ten yards of his own door."

A Backwoods Mystery

"By Jackson?" crkJ David, in a husky voice.

" It must have been. No one was caught. The
shock killed my mother. That is the story, Davy.
There wasn't much money for Noll and me, by
the time I was old enough to notice things — and
we came here, as you know, nine years ago."

" But — who'd want to play the old trick on
me "^ " asked Marsh anxiously. " And who is there
here that knov.-s anything about it? Jackson?
What would he rare about Nell and me?"

" Some rival, i -rhaps," suggested Harley. " The
devil only knows! Perhaps some one who dislikes
you knows the old story; but — don't ask me,"
he added nervously.

" There is Dick Goodine, the trapper," said
Marsh. " He is sweet on Nell. But what does he
know — and how could he do it? Hell! Jim, it
beats me I "

CHAPTER III

DAVID MARSH DECIDES TO SPEAK AND DOESN't

Jim Harley decided, before morning, that he
must tell the tragic story to Rayton. He also de-
cided that there was no need, at present, of telling
either Nell or his wife of the mysterious advent
of the two red marks into Samson's Mill Settle-
ment.

Young David Marsh spent a restless night, going
over and over all that Jim had told him. He came
to the conclusion, at last, that the red crosses
themselves were harmless, and utterly foolish, and
that the real danger and tragedy lay in the human
fate that had always inspired their appearance.
Then his active mind quested far and near in search
of an enemy of his own to correspond with the
Spanish count of the first tragedy, and with young
Jackson of the second — and not only that, but
he must find an enemy who was in love with Nell
Harley, and who knew the story of the red crosses.
He thought of every man he had ever met, young

A Backwoods Mystery

and middle-aged: but he soon saw that this was
too wide a field to explore. He could only bring
to mind one man who, to his certain knowledge,
had paid any attention to Nell Harley — and this
was Dick Goodine. Likev/ise, he could think of
only one man in the community with whom he was
not on fairly friendly terms — and this, too, was
(joodine.

Goodine had French blood in his veins, and was
known to be eccentric; but he had never been con-
sidered dangerous in any way. He was a good-
looking young woodsman who spent his summers
in idleness, and his winters in trapping furs. Some-
times he did a little business in David Marsh's own
chosen field, and guided " sports " into tht: wilder-
ness after moose and caribou. But this was not
often, for Dick Goodine's pride was even quicker
than his temper. " It's not white men's work,"
!ie had said to David, not long before, in the course
of the very argument that had caused the coolness
that now existed between them. " It's Injun's
work — or nigger's. The guidni' is good enough ;
but when it comes to cookin' for them, and pullin'
off their wet boots at night — oh, t' hell with it!
It may suit you, but it don't suit me."

But how should ir>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

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

A Backwoods Mystery

li!!jl

fplf

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

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,

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."

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! "

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."

The Trapper's Confession

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' <),

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

" 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

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

The Trapper's Confession

" 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."

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

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.

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

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

u >■

H '/'

li 'I

Jt' 1 •

>)f'tl

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

' 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,

A Backwoods Mystery

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

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 <lark — when Goodine

turned again, a dar;

ng and attractive figure

with axe and pack on his right shoulder and tiie
rinc in his left hand. " But don't think that I'm
even e.xpectin' to be good enough for her," he
said. " I'll try to be decent, God knows! — but I'll
stdl be just a poor, ignorant busliwhacker. You*
are more the kind she ought to marry."

" Me! What are you thinking of, Dick? " cried
Rayton.

" That's all right," replied the trappe , and van-
ished in the underbrush.

Rayton tramped and scrambled along with his
mind so busy with thoughts of Dick Goodine, of
Nell Harley, and of David Marsh that, when he
arrived at his own pasture fence shortly after sun-
set, he discovered that he had not added so much
as one bird to his bag.

" The devil ! " he exclaimed. " That comes of
woolgathering. But never mind, Turk, we'll do
better to-morrow."

When he reached the house he found Doctor

'. h-

A Backwoods Mystery

Nash's buggy in front of the door, and the doctor
inside.

" I thought I'd drop in and have a talk over
that queer business of a couple of nights ago," said
Nash.

This dealt a blow to Rayton's suspicion. " Drive
'round and we'll put the nag under cover, and give
her a feed," he said.

11 >

■

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

; il

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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

" 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 .

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^! ;

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 /

f: ■

Doctor Nash's Suspicions

" 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

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/\ 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

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-

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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

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Doctor Nash's Suspicions

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

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•v I

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

Doctor Nash's Suspicions

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

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i ;

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

M I

HE AliVAN( Kit SiOWLV, F A I \ Kl ' l.I. V, A I'lTim. FIi.rKK.'

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Doctor Nash's Suspicions

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?

i )

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."

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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

A Misfortune

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.

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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

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

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/\ 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.

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A Misfortune

" 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."

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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

"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

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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

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

A Backwoods Mystery

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" 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

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,

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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

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.

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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,

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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."

Mr. Banks Takes a Hand

" 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.

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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."

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Mr. Ranks Takes a Hand

"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."

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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.

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Mr. Banks Tak^s a Hand

" 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

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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.

Mr. Banks Takes a Hand

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."

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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

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

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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.

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^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 ! "

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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

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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<m1! "

" It is the truth," said Rayton.

" Damn your cheek. Marsh, of course it is the
truth," roared Banks.

Dick Goodine nodded. " Cross my heart. So
help me God," he said.

The flush of rage slipped down from David's
brow and face like a red curtain. He moistened
his lips with his tongue.

" Then it's the curse of them two marks on the

Ra^^ton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 100

card I " he whispered. " It's the curse of them two
red ci jsses! "

"Rot!" exclaimed Mr. Banks. "Just because
Goodine didn't fire your catnp, you jump to the
conclusion that the devil did it. Rot ! "

" There's nobody else would do it but Dick
Goodine," returned David sullenly, "and if you
say he didn't, well then — but lookec here! Who
cut half throufjb. that pole? Goodine did that, any-
how! Molly Canadian told me where she found
it. You can't git out of that, Dick Goodine!"

"That's so?" replied Dick. "You'd best go
home and take a pill, Davy."

" Molly tolil us where she found it, too," said
Ray ton. " I call it a mighty clever piece of spruce,
to crawl out of the eddy at the tail of the rapid,
and lie down on top of a Hat rock. How does
it look lu you, ^^nrsh? "

David frowned, and glanced uncertainly at Mr.
Banks.

" That's queer," he admitted, " but I guess it
don't alter the fact that the pole had bin cut. Look
at it! It was cut halfway through! And there's
the man who cut it, say what you please! He was
the last but myself to take it in his hands."

" 1 was the last, but you, to handle it afore it

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110

A Backwoods Mystery

was broke," replied Dick Goodine calmly, "but
somebody else has bin at it since it broke. Who
fished it out o' the river and laid it on the rock,
high and dry, for Molly Canadian to find? When
you know that, David Marsh, you'll know who
made the cut in it. But one thing I'll tell you —
I didn't do it. If I'd wanted to smash yer durned
silly arm, or ycr neck, I'd have done it with my
hands. So don't call me any more names or maybe
I'll get so niatl as to forget yer not in shape to take
a lickin'. That's all — e.\.qit I'm sorry yer havin'
a run o' bad luck."

" Keep yer sorrow for them as wants it," re-
plied Marsh, and left the house.

" That young man stiows up verv badly when
things go wrong with him," rei.r .... Mr. Banks
mildly. " Trouble seems to rattle him. hopelessly.
Suppose wc turn in."

" Guess I'll be steppin' home, gentlemen, if you
don't mean to hunt to-moirow," saia the trapper.

"Better stay the night, Dick. It is late — and
a long walk to your place — and we want you to
helj) us skir -id clean Mr. Banks' moose head in
the morning," said Rayton.

So Goodine remained.

On the following morning, while the New York

Rayton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 111

sportsman and the trapper were busy over the in-
tricate job of removing the hide from the moose
head, and cleaning the skull, Rayton invented an
excuse for going over to the Harley place. Since
Jim Harley's pressing invitation he had made three
visits and had talked with Nell Harley three times.
Never before had he ventured to show himself
in the morning. Those three visits, however, had
fired him with recklessness. Clocks stop for lovers
— and Reginald Baynes Rayton was a lover. He
was not aware of it, but the fact remains. He
did not know what was the matter with him. He
felt a mighty friendsnip for Jim Harley. So, hav-
ing told Banks and Goodine that he wanted to bor-
row a saucepan of a very particular size, he made
his way across the settlement by road and field,
wood and pasture. He was within sight of the
big farmhouse when old Captain Wigmore stepped
from a thicket of spruces and confronted him.

"Good morning, Reginald," said the captain.
" Where are you bound for so early ? "

" Good morning," returned the Englishman.
" I'm out to borrow a saucepan."

"So. Who from?"

" I think Mrs. Harley has just what I want."

" I haven't a doubt of it, Reginald, As I'm go-

^2^ A Backwoods Mystery

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ing tliat way myself, I'll step along with you. But
It s a long walk, my boy, every time you want to
use a saucepan. You had better buy one for your-
self."

Ray ton laughed, and the two advanced elbow to
elbow.

•' I hear," said the captain, " tliat poor young
Marsh is up to his neck in the waters of tribu-
lation. His luck, in the past, has always been of
the best. It's a remarkably queer thing, don't you
think so?"

"His luck was too good to last, that is all,"
replied Rayton. " One cannot expect to have every-
thing work out right forever — especially a chap
like Marsh, who has a way with him that is not
attractive. I think he has an enemy."

saw him this morning," said Wigmore,
" and what do you think he is worrying about
now ? "

" Heaven knows! "

*' He has given up the idea that young Goodine
is persecuting him, and now lays all his troubles
to the score of the devil. He broods over those
two little marks on that card that was dealt to him
during our game of poker. I don't believe he slept
a wink last night. Jim's story concerning the past

Ra' ton Goes to Borrow a Saucepan 113

history of those crosses has clone its work. The
poor fellow is so badly shaken, that when he is out
he's a' . -d the sky may fall upon him, and when
he's indoors, he is anxious about the room. He is
a coward at heart, you know — and it does not do
for a coward to consider himself in love with Nell
Harley."

Rayton blushed quickly, and laughed his polite
but meaningless laugh.

" I suppose not," he said. " None but the brave,
you know."

" Exactly, Reginald. You are not such a fool
as you — v/ell, we'll say sound, for you don't look
like a fool. No offense is meant, my dear boy.
Fact is, I'm your very sincere r dmirer, and I should
like to hear what you think of that marked card,
that turned up the other night at your little party."

" I think it was nothing more than a queer
chance."

" You believe Jim's story? You believe all that
about his mother and grandmother? "

"Yes, of course; but I think what happened
the other night was just chance."

" But you must admit, Reginald, that David
Marsh, who received the marked card, has had a
peck of trouble served to him since that night."

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114

A Backwoods Mystery

or chance — a very

mi:

" Yes. That is more
Strang-' coincidence."

" Vou are a firm behever in chance, evidently.
Or is it tliat yon call everything chance that you

can't explain ? "'

K'cginald sighed profoundly. " Chance." he said
— " why, chance is chance. It was chance that you
and I met this morning. It was just chance that
David's luck shouM turn, or that some one with
a grudge against nim should get busy, just after
that marked card turned up."
Old Wigmore smiled and nodded.
" I, too, am a great believer in what you call
chance," he said. " But here we are, m> 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

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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-

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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

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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."

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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.

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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.

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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, ha<I a weakness for
rye whisky and Turkish cigarettes — weaknesses
which he indulged on the sly — and spent much
of his time in the perusal of sentimental fiction.
The afternoon of the day on which Mr. Rayton

122

Ra )n Confesses

1*23

went across the liclds to borrow a s lucipaii was
lHij,'lit and warm. The iiiorniiij.,' had iToiiiiscd rain,
Init a chaiij;e of wind had given t( . late autumn
a few more hours of maj;ic, unseasonable warmth
and f^Iow. Timothy I'Metchcr, shod with felt, went
to the door of t'le ea[)tain's bedroom and assured
himself that the worthy gentleman was deep in
his after-luncheon nap. Then he tiptoed [o his
(uvn chamber, [)roduced a paper-covered novel and
a box of cigarettes from a locked trunk, and crept
downstairs again. In the kitchen he changed his
felt-soled slippers for a pair of boots. He crossed
the garden, the little pasture beyond, and entered
a patch of young firs and spruces. He walketl
swiftly and furtively, until he came to a little sun-
filled clearing, on a gently sloping hillside. Here
he found his favorite seat, which was a dry log
lying near a big poplar. He seated himself on the
log, leaned back against the poplar, lit a fat cig-
arette, and opened the book.

For a whole hour Timothy read steadily, chapter
after chapter, and smoked four cigarettes. Then
he placed the book face down upon hi? knee. The
sun was warm and the air soft and fragrant. He
closed his eyes, opened them with an effort, closed
them again. His head sank back and settled slightly

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124

A Backwoods Mystery

But he

to the left. The book slid from his knee,
gave it no heed.

He awoke, struggHng violently, but impotently.
He opened his eyes upon darkness. He cried out
furiously, and his voice was beaten thunderously
back into his own ears by an enveloping blanket. He
knew it for a blanket by the weight and feeling
of it. His back was still against the familiar poplar
tree, but now it w. s pressed to the trunk by some-
thing that crossed his chest. His hands were
bound to his sides. His ankles were gripped to-
gether.

Now it happened that a large widow, named
Mrs. Beesley, came to the little hillside clearing
just before sunset. She had been hunting through
the woods all the afternoon for an herb that en-
joys the reputation, in this country, of being a
panacea for all ailments of the stomach. Now she
was on her way home.

Rounding the big poplar, she beheld a shapeless,
blanket-swathed, rope-bound form lumped against
the trunk. She did not see the ropes clearly, nor
fully comprehend the blanket ; in fact she received
only a general impression of something monstrous,
bulky, terrific. She uttered a shrill scream, and,
for a few seconds, stood spellbound. A choking

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Rayton Confesses

125

sound, muffled and terrible, came from the shape-
less bulk, and one end of it began to sway and
the other to twist and wag. Mrs. Beesley turned
and ran for her very life.

Instinct, rather than reason, directed Mrs.
Beesley's fleeing feet toward the clearings and
farmsteads of the settlement. She left the haunted
woods behind her, crossed a lumpy pasture at an
amazing pace, sprang into the middle of a brush
fence, and fought through without a halt, sighted
a house with a male figure in the foreground,
and kicked her way toward these signs of protec-
tion with such high action that her elastic-sided
boots acknowledged themselves frankly, and Cap-
tain Wigmore's suspicions of white stockings were
confirmed. She arrived with such force as to send
the frail old captain reeling backward across an
empty flower bed. Following him, she reclined
upon the mold.

" Bless my soul ! " cried the captain. " Why,
it is Mrs. Beesley! My dear Mrs. Beesley, what
the devil is the matter with you? Allow me to
help you to your feet. You'll ruin your gown in
that bed, I'm sure. Did you see a bear ? "

She had no breath for words, just then, and her
legs felt as if they had melted. Wigmorc possessed

126

A Backwoods Mystery

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himself of her fat hands, set his heels in the edge
of the flower bed, and pulled. He suggested a
small terrier worrying a large -^ id sleepy pig.
Presently he desisted from his efforts, retreated
a few paces, and wiped his face with his hand-
kerchief.

" Collect yourself, my dear Mrs. Beesley," he
pleaded. "I'm afraid you'll catch your death
sitting there. Come now, try to tell me all about
the bear — and try to rise."

The widow found her voice, though she did not
move.

" It weren't a b'ar, captain," she cried. " Sakes
alive! No b'ar 'u'd scare me like that. Don't
know what to call it, captain. The devil, I reckon
— or a ghost, maybe — or a annerchrist. You better
git yer gun, captain, and go back and take a look.
Oh, lor'! Oh, sakes alive! I never thought to
see the day Mary Beesley 'u'd jump fences like a
breechy steer ! "

"Calm yourself, Mrs. Beesley," returned old
Wigmore, " ard tell me where you saw this
creature. Did it chase you? "

"It was in the little clearin' where the spring
is." replied the widow. " No, it didn't chase me,
captain, as far's I know. I didn't look 'round to

Rayton Confesses

127

see. It jes' growled and wiggled — and then I
lit out, captain, and made no more to-do about a
fence than I would about crossin' a hooked mat
on the kitchen floor."

" Come in and sit down, Mrs. Beesley," said
Wigmore. " I'll get my man Timothy and go up
to the spring and look 'round. I haven't a doubt
about it being a bear."

Wigmore went through the house shouting vainly
for Timothy Fletcher. Then he went out to the
road and caught sight of Benjamin Samson in the
distance. He whistled on his fingers and waved
a hand violently to the miller. Benjamin came
to him as fast as his weight allowed.

" What's bitin' you, cap'n ? " he asked.

" There is something by the spring up in the
little clearing," said Wigmore — " something that
frightened Mrs. Beesley, and growled and wagged
itself. She is in the house, recovering from her
fright. She ran like a deer."

" Then I'll bet it wasn't a man up by the spring,"
.^aid Benjamin.

The captain let this mild attempt at humor pass
without notice.

" I want to go up and take a look 'round," he
said. " but I can't find Timothy anywhere. It may

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A Backwoods Mystery

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be a bear — and I am an old man. Will you come
along with me, Benjamin?"

" Sure. If you can lend me a gun," replied Mr.
Samson.

They found a shotgun, slipped two cartridges
loaded with buckshot into the breech, bade Mrs.
Beesley sit quiet and be of good heart, and set out
to investigate the little hillside clearing. It was now
dusk. The sun had slipped from sight, and the
shadows were deep in the woods. The captain
carried a lighted lantern, and Benjamin the ready
fowling piece.

They soon reached the poplar tree and the blan-
ket-swathed figure bound against it. By lantern
light it looked more grotesque and monstrous than
by day, and Mr. Samson came within an ace of
taking a snap shot at it, and then beating a hasty
retreat. The captain was too quick for him, how-
ever, noticed the twitch of die miller's arm, and
gripped him by the wrist.

"It's tied fast, whatever it is," he said.

" Don't you see the ropes? Come on, Benjamin,
and keep a grip on your nerve. Here, let me take
the gun ! "

" I ain't scart," replied Samson thickly. " It
gave me a start for a second, that's all."

Rayton Confesses

129

They approached the shapeless figure cautiously.

"Who are you?" cried Wigmore.

The thing twisted and squirmed, and a muffled,
choking, bestial sound came from it.

" I'll bet a dollar it's a man," said Benjanu'n.
" Now what kind o' trick is this, I'd like to know ?
Maybe there's bin murder done. There's bin too
luany queer triclvS 'round here lately to suit
me.

" It is tied up in a blanket," said the cap-
tain. " Feel it, Benjamin, and find out what
it is."

" Not me," returned Samson. " I guess it's only
a man, but I ain't particular about feelin' of it.
You go ahead, cap'n. I'll hold the light for
you."

Old Wigrnore stepped closer to the blanketed
form and touched it gingerly with his left hand.
It squirmed beneath his fingers, and again gave
utterance to that amazing sound.

" Yes, it's a human being," said the captain.
And then, " Bless my soul, look at his feet ! It's
poor Timothy Fletcher, by Heaven! Quick, Benja-
min, lend a hand here ! Cut that rope, man ! "

In less than half a minute old Timothy was
free. Lacking the support of the rope thai had

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A Backwoods Mystery

circled his chest and the tree, he tipped forward
and shd heavily to the ground. The captain knelt
beside him.

" Run to the house and get some brandy,"
he ordered. " You'll find sonic in my Ix'd-
room, behind the wardrobe. Make haste, Benja-

" Well," replied Benjamin Samson, " I reckon
I don't have to, cap'n. Queer thing, cap'n, but I
happen to have a drop o' rye whisky in my pocket.
Ain't carried sech a thing for years and years —
but I've had a spell o' toothache lately and t' only
thing does it any good's rye whisky. I hold some
in my mouth now and again — and always spit it
out, of course. Here you are, cap'n, and wel-
come."

Wigmore twisted out the cork and held the bottle
to Timothy's lips. Timothy's eyes were shut, but
his lips were open. His throat seemed to be in
working order.

" He takes it like a baby takes its milk,"
said Benjamin. " I guess he ain't bin murdered,
after all. There! I reckon he's had about all
that's good for him. Wake up, Mr. Fletcher, and
tell us all about it."

" Tell me who did this, my good Timothy, and

Rayton Confesses

131

"When

I'll make it hot for him," said Wigmore.
did it happen, my worthy friend? "

" This here country's gettin' that lawless it ain't
fit fer honest men like us to live in no longer,"
said Mr. Samson.

Timothy growled and sat up. He glared at
Benjamin, then turned his gaze upon his master.

"Ah! You feel better! " exclaimed the captain.
"I am glad of it, my trusty friend. Tell me,
now, when and how did this outrageous thing
happen ? "

" I'll trouble ye for another drop of that tonic,
Mr. Samson," said Timothy.

"I reckon not," returned the miller. "Doctor
Nash says as how too much is a long sight worse
nor too little."

"Then where's my book?" demanded Timothy.

" And my cigarettes? "

" You have not answered my questions, my dear
fellow," said the captain.

" Chuck it ! " returned the old servant. " I ain't
in the mood for answerin' fool questions."

" I fear his nerves are badly shaken," whispered
the captain to the miller. " We must get him
home and put him to bed."

" But you ain't intendin' to leave the ropes and

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132

A Backwoods Mystery

blanket behind, surely ! " exclaimed Benjamin. He
stooped, picked up the blanket, and held it to the
light of the lantern. "Ilah!" he cried. "It's my
blanket! It's my new ho.ss blanket, by gosh! 1
missed it fust, last Sunday. And the rope's mine,
too — my new hay rope, all cut to bits. I'll have
the law on whoever done this, sure's my name's
Benjamin Samson."

"Your blanket?" (luericd Captain Wigmore.
" Your blanket and rope? But no, Benjamin. I
don't suspect you, my friend, for I know you to
be an honest man. But others — people who don't
know you as I do — might think you were the per-
son who tied Timothy to the tree."'

"Chuck it!" growled Mr. Fletcher, picking up
the lantern and limping away.

Thanks to Mrs. Beesley and Benjamin Samson,
the story of the mysterious attack upon old Timothy
I'Mctcher soon .spread to the farthest outskirts of
the settlement. Some inspired person connected
this with the burning of David Marsh's camp, and
it became a general belief that some desperate
character was at work in the country. Samson
suggested an escaped convict, but where escaped
from he could not say. Timothy looked more un-
pleasant than evei, and kept his jaws together like

Rayton Confesses

133

the jaws of a spring fox trap. He did not seem
to enjoy his position in the hniehght. Mrs. Bcesley
found herself a heroine for a little while, hut
this did not make amends for the speedy ruina-
tion of her dreams concerning Captain Wig-
more.

She had expected a warm continuation and a
quick and romantic development of the friendly —
aye, more than friendly — relations commenced hy
that adventure. But. alas, it had all ended as sud-
denly as it had commenced. The poor woman
sometimes wondered if she had made a mistake in
sitting for so long in the captain's flower bed.

" Men are queer critters," she said. " The late
Mr. Beesley was touchy as a cat about them little
things, and maybe the captain's the same. But he
was that friendly and perlite, I really did think his
intentions was serious."

Mr. Banks was keenly interested in Timothy's
adventure. He talked to Captain Wigmore about
it for fully an hour.

Two days after the mysterious, and apparently
meaningless attack upon Wigmore's servant, the
first snow of the coming winter descended upon
the wilderness. Jim Harley had two full crews of
lumbermen in the woods by now, but was himself

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A Backwoods Mystery

spending half his time in the settlement. DaviJ
Marsh's ami was still in splints, and Dick Good'";^
had not yet gone out to his bleak hunting grounds,
beyond the fringes of the made roads and buck-
wheat-stubblt belt.

Dick spent much of his time with Mr. Banks
and Reginald Rayton. As for Mr. Ilarvey P.
Banks, he seemed to have forgotten both his busi-
ness and his distant home. He had still one hun-
dred '>f 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

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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?"

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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

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Wi It

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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

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

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" 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

\\ !

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

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■

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

■J

I'n

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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<i

An Unfortunate Moment

159

man's hand, and looked steadily into his face with
troubled eyes.

" I was just g'Mng over to see you," he said.
" I'm glad you're here. I — I feel pretty bad
about you, RcginaUl — mighty bad, J can tell
you!"

" For Heaven's sake, Jim, what's the trouble ? "
asked Rayton. " What have I done — or what
d'you think I've done?"

Harley flushed. " You know what the trouble
is — what is worrying me," he said. " You have
not done anything. I am thinking of the marked
card, as you know very well."

Rayton laughed, and slapped the other on the
back.

"Laugh, if you choose." returned Harley; "but
I tell you it is no laughing matter. Have you for-
gotten what I told you about those red crosses?
Have you forgotten the manner of my father's
death? Great heavens, man, it is nothing to laugh
about! Those marks have brought two men to
their death. And there's Marsh! He came within
an inch of being drowned that day his pole broke.
Of course, you think I am a fool. You may call
me one if you want to. But, for God's sake, get out
of here until the danger passes! That's all I ask,

IGO

A Backwoods Mystery

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■i

..i :

Rayton. Get out! Get away from this settlement
for a little while! "

The smile left the Englishman's face, and he
gaped at his friend in utter astonishment.

" Get out? " he repeated, in a dazed voice. " Get
out? What for? What good would that do to
any one? What — in the name of all that's sensi-
ble — are you driving at?"

" Get away from here — away from me — and
save yourself," replied Harley. " Don't you under-
stand ? This trouble is all our fault — all due to
my sister. Don't you see that? Then get away
from us! Drop us, and clear out! "

" To save myself from the curse of the little red
marks on the card, I suppose?"

" Yes, yes. Go away and save yourself. That
is what I ask you, Rayton."

" You really believe, then, in the power of
those crosses? You really believe that my life
is in danger — that I have been marked by
Fate?"

" I only know what those crosses have done in
the past. The evil is not in the marks, though.
Don't think I'm ([uite a fool! But they are sent
as a warning — by some unknown eneir y of ours.
Can't you sec that, Rayton? My father was miir-

An Unfortunate Moment

161

(lered after receiving a card marked with those
crosses. David Marsh's life was attempted! Doti'l
you see? We have a bitter, hidden enemy! "

" No, I don't ! " retorted Rayton, with spirit. " I
don't think Marsh's hfe was attempted. Great
heavens, Jim, didn't a canoe pole ever break in this
country before? And didn't a shack ever burn
down before? Buck up and look at the thing like
a sensible man ! What happened to that young
bounder Marsh was nothing but chance. You
make me angry, 'pt)n my word you do! But don't
think for a minute that you can make me angry
enough to run away — or that you can scare me
away. I stand pat; but if my house catcher fire,
or anything of that kind happens, then I'll set to
work and dig up the fool who hands out those
marked cards, and land him in jail."

" I have asked you to go, for your own sake. I
can't do anything more," returned Harley.

Rayton gazed at him earnestly, eye to eye; but
Harley kept his eyes steady.

"Jim, that sounds queer," he said "It sounds
like some rot thac Nash was talking, not long ago.
P-.rhaps you know what I mean. Nash's idea was
tiuu you dealt the marked card to Marsh, and then
invented the story, just to scare Marsh away from

162

A Backwoods Mystery

■,(!

I •

your sister. Now he will say that you arc trying
to frij^htcn mo away."

"He is a liar!" cried Ilarlcy.

" I know your story is ♦rue," said the Frifjlish-
uian, " and I know you are just as nuieli in tiie
dark about those cards as I am; l)ut if you go on
like this, old chap, other people will think as Nash
tliinks. Nash is not the only fool in these woods.

"And I want to tell y(ni that even if you were
trying to frighten me away from here you couldn't
do it ! That's my position, Jim. 1 am here — and
here I stay! Whoever marks those cards is a harm-
less idiot. I love yatr sister — though she doesn't
know it, yet — and the only thing that can chase
me away from her is her own word. So save your
anxiety for me, old chap, and keep your wind to
cool your porridge. Also, think the thing over
quietly; and, if it contin'-.es to worry you, go hunt-
ing for the man who makes a fool of you by mark-
ing those cards. Good morning."

Reginald Rayton turned and strode away with-
out waiting for an answer to his last long speech.
He was angry — hot and cold with it. from his
head to his feet. He had been excited into a
premature disclosure of his sentiments toward Nell
Harley. He had been talked to like a fool — and

An Unfortunate Moment

163

he had talked like a loci. He was furious. He
felt the need of some one to punch and kick. It
was years since he had list been in such a wax.
.\iul this was his niood when Doctor Nash ap-
peared over tlic l)row of a hill in front, drivinjij
toward him in a mud-splasheil l)U[,'f;y. Xash drew
rein within a yard of the I'nglishman. The I'lnj.,^-
lishman halted. Nash leaned forward, and j^'rinned.

" That was a good one. last night," he remarked.
" A good joke on old Wigmore; but I duu'i (piite
see the point <jf it. Do you?"

" No. Is there supposed to be any jjoint?" re-
turned kayton.

"Sure! What d'ye think it's all about if there
isn't a point to it? You fellows arc lobsters, I
must say, if you are still cloudy t)n that business.
Those marks are warnings — oh, yes! Pmt they
are not sent by I'ale. They are sort of ' keep ofT
the grass' signs issued and posted by a very dear
friend of yours. Last night he felt my eye on
him, and so threw the blufT. It worked pretty
well, too. It had me guessing for about an hour;
and then I thought it over after I went to bed,
and got it all straight and clear."

" I am glad that some one has it straight and
dear," said Rayton. "I am in the dark, myself;

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164

A Backwoods Mysterv

but I agree with you that the deal to Wigmore
was a bluff. I am positive about this because a
marked card came to me twice before supper."

Nash uttered a derisive whistle, then slapped his
knee with an open hand.

" I might have guessed it! " he cried. " So it's
your turn, is it? Keep off the grass, Reginald.
Good old Jim! He knows what he's about."

"What are you driving at?" demanded the
Englishman. "What has Jim to do with it?"

He had heard the doctor's theory before, but
wanted first-hand proof of it — and he was look-
ing for an excuse for letting loose.

"What has Jim to do with it?" repeated Nash
sneeringly. " Why, you lobster, he has everything
to do with it. He's it! What's your head made
of, anyway? A block out of the oak walls of old
England, I suppose."

Rayton averted his face.

" Do you mean that Jim has anything to do
with the marks on those cards?" he asked, in a
faint and unsteady voice.

" You lobster ! He marks them, and he deals
them! " cried Nash.

Rayton faced him.

" You are a liar," he said quietly. " Not only

I'LCNCEU AT KAVTUN, Willi

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An Unfortunate Moment

1G5

lluit, but you are a bounder. Better whip up your
nag and drive away, or I'll be tempted to pull you
out onto the road and give you what you need.
Vou are a disgrace to this settlement." He stepped
back to the edge of the road. ** Drive along, fat
head," he commanded.

But Nash did not drive along. He had a great
opinion of himself — of his physical as well as
his mental powers. He hung the reins on the dash-
board.

" Do you mean that? " he asked. " Are you try-
ing to insult me? Or are you drunk?"

" I am not drunk. Yes, I am trying to in-
sult you. It is rather a difficult thing to do, I

know."

"Steady, Champion!" cried Nash to his nod-
ding horse. Then he jumped over the wheel,
threw aside his hat and overcoat, and plunged at
Rayton, with his fists flying. He smote the air.
He flailed the sunlight. He punched holes in the
out of doors. At last he encountered something
hard — not with his fist, however, but with an
angle of his face. With a futile sprawl, he meas-
ured his considerable length in the mud and slush
of the highway. So he lay for a little while, one
leg flapping, then scrambled slowly to his feet. He

1C6

A Backwoods Mystery

!«•'

gazed around in a dazed way, and at last rested his
glance upon Rayton.

" See here ! " he exclaimed ; " that — that's no
way to do! Can't you fight fair? What did you
hit me with? "

The Englishman lifted his right fist, and pointed
at it with the index finger f his left hand.

" That is what T hit you with," he said in mat-
ter-of-fact tones. "But if you don't think that
fair, I'll land my left next time."

" Don't trouble," replied Nash. " I'm no match
for a professional prize fighter. That's not my
Hne."

"Oh, cheer up! We've just begun."

" I've finished."

" In that case you can take back what you said
about Jim Harley."

" What did I say ? " asked the doctor, making
a furtive step toward his trap.

Rayton advanced. "Quick!" he cried. "Call
yourself a liar, or I'll try another prod at you!"

" Leave me alone. D n you ! I'll have the

law on you for this. Keep off! Mind what you're
about. Keep your distance. I say. Yes. yes!
You're right I'm a liar. I'm a liar!"

He jumped into his buggy, wakened Champion

An Unfortunate Moment 167

witli a cut of the whip, and drove away at a gallop,
leaving his hat and overcoat on the side of the
road. For a minute Ray ton stood and gazed after
the bouncing vehicle. Then he picked tip the hat
and coat, and placeil them on the top rail of the
fence.

" That is the worst thing I ever saw in the way
of a doctor," he .said. " Most of them are mighty
good fellows — and I didn't know before that any
of them were quitters. But that chap? Why, he's
a disgrace to a pill box. Hope ho'll come back for
his duds, though." ■

Mr. Reginald Baynes Rayton turned, and con-
tinued on his homeward way, swinging his feet
well in front of him, and expanding his chest.
But presently he lost the air of the conquering hero.
Misgivings assailed him. He had picked a fight
simply because he was in a bad temper. He had
called a more or less harmless individual names,
and then punched him in the jaw and forced him
to call himself a liar.

" I'm asham.ed of myself," he murmured.
" What has become of my manners? "

He reached his house, and found Mr. Banks
in the kitchen, still reflectively consuming to-
bacco.

168

A Backwoods Mystery

"What's the matter with you, Reginald?" in-
quired the New Yorker. " You look excited."

" I am," replied Rayton, and told frankly but
briefly of his talk with Jim Harlcy and of his fight
with Nash.

" I am glad you punched Nash, for I don't like
the animal," sa''d Banks. "But why in thunder
didn't you trim Harley first? He insulted you."

" He didn't mean to insult me. He believes in
the potency of those red crosses. It is a matter of
family pride with him," answered Rayton.

.'1 1,

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CHAPTER XII

RAYTON IS REMINDED OF THE RED CROSSES

The snow vanished dnrinj^ the day, under the
unseasonable glow of the sun; but with evening
came a biting frost and a choking, quiet wind out
of a clear sky. The next morning lifted bright and
cold, with a glint of ice over all the wilderness,
but not so much as a patch or tatter of snow any-
where.

Banks and Rayton breakfasted by lamplight, for
they had planned a morning after ruffled grouse.
The sun was just over the eastern forests when
they stepped out from the warm kitchen to the
frosted open, buttoned their fur-lined gloves, and
turned up the collars of their blanket " jumpers."
They separated at a spur of spruces and firs that
thrust itself, like a green buttress, into the yellow-
brown of a back pasture.

" You can have Turk. He may find you a be-
lated woodcock or two," said Rayton.

So Banks swung to the left, and entered the

169

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A Backwoods Mystery

forest, with the obedient, eager dog at his heels,
and a trail of fragrant smoke drifting over his
shoulder, pure blue in the sunshine.

Rayton entered the woods to the right. He
walked carelessly through the underbrush, heedless
of everything about him, and of the gun in the
hollow of his arm, grieving over his conversation
the day before with the brother of the woman he
loved. Had Jim really expected him to behave
like a coward — to run away from the marked
Had Jim no better opinion of him than
He wondered if Nell knew that the cards

cards
that?

had been dealt to him? And if so, how she felt
about it? Had Jim told her of their heated argu-
ment, and of his— Rayton's — childish exhibition
of temper? That would not strengthen his chances
with her. And what would she think of him when
she heard of his crude outbreak against Doctor
Nash? He trembled at the question.

" Those red crosses may be my undoing, after
all, in a sneaking roundabout way," he rctiected.

A bird went whirring up from close in front of
his trampling feet, and got safely away. He halted,
leaned his gun against a tree, and lit his pipe.

" I must keep my wits about me," he said, " and
stop worrying about those silly cards, or every-

Rayton is Rcminck-d of the Crosses 171

thing will get away from me — birds and every-
thing."

He sat for about half an hour on a convenient
stump ill a patch of sunshine, smoking, and work-
ing himself into his usual happy state of mind,
lie dreamed of Nell Ilarley. He had visions oi
lier — and he discovered a golden trail of thought,
and followed it into a golden magical future. The
cards, the argument with Jim, and the fight with
Xash were all forgotten. At the end of the half
hour he continued on his aimless way.

The lanes and little clearings of the forest were
comfortably warm, for the sunlight filled them,
and the wind was walled away from them. The
peace of the frost-nipped, sun-steeped wilderness
soothed and healed his spirit. He moved slowly,
and halted fre(iuently to spy out some twittering
chickadee or flitting blue jay, to gaze up at the
purple spires of the spruces, or down at some
naming, grotesquely shaped toadstool. He loved
it all — every stump, shadow, sound, and soaring
wall of it, every flickering wing and furtive call,
every scent, tone, and silence.

He tramped onward, comfortetl. following his
whim. At noon he halted beside a brown brook,
twisting among cedars here, alders there. He had

M'i

A Backwoods Mystery

i1 f

several thick slices of bread am' butter in his
I)()cket. lie built a small fire at the edge of the
sireaui, skinned, in woodman's style, a plump par-
tridj,'e that he had shot an hour bel. »re, broiled
it to a turn, and dined to a wish. After his meal,
he spent a dozing hour between the red fire and
the brown stream, with the stem of his pipe be-
tween his teeth, and great dreams behind his eyes.
" This suits me," he murmured. " I'll make a
day of it."

lie got to his feet at last, picked up his gun,
and followed the course of the stream downward,
taking his time, and avoiding all tangles of under-
brush and difficult places. He w^aked up several
grouse, and got one clean shot. But he was not
keen about making a bag. He was enjoying him-
self in quite another way. Had there been paper
and pencil in his pocket, instead of feathers,
crumbs of bread, and shreds of tobacco, it is more
than likely he would have tried to write a poem;
for Mr. Reginald Baynes Rayton was in love with
a woman, and in love with nature on one and the
same golden day. Everything was forgotten but
the quiet, magical joy that steeped him to the soul.
Tt was about mid-afternoon when Ravton altered
his course for home. He studied the sky and his

Rayton is Reminded of the Crosses 173

compass, and tlicn turned his back to tlic brown
brook. He calculated that this line would take hin
out to Samson's Mill Settlement shortly after sun-
set.

An hour later Rayton was still far from home,
and amonj^ tall timber and heavv underbrush.
Red rays of sun flooded from the west, low and
level, and became tan<;lcd and lost among the black
screens of the forest. Rayton moved slowly, push-
ing his way thnnigh moosewood saplings. He
halted, drew his compass from an inner pocket,
and reassured himself as to his position.

And then, on the left, a riile shot rang out, sharp
and vicious. Rayton jumi)ed, spun round on his
heels, then dashed forward, shouting strongly and
angrily. He heard the swishing and crackling of
flight ahead of him. He halted, raised his fowling
piece, and let fly both barrels. He bellowed mur-
derous threats after the retreating, unseen sniper.

Then, quick as lightning, the strength went out
of him. Voice and knees failed together, and he
sank silently to the forest loam. So he lay for
a minute, dizzy and faint, and stunned with won-
der. In a dazed way he set all his senses on a
vague inquiry, searching for pain. But he felt
no pain — only a quick, strong pulsing in his left

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174 A Backwoods Mystery

shoulder. He took note of this cloudily. Then, of
a sudden, his brain cleared, and anxiety sprang alive
in his heart.

He sat up, and put his ri,!2:ht hand across his
body. His shoulder — the thick blanket stuff that
covered it — was wet and hut. He held his hand
close to his eyes in the waning light, and saw that
it was reeking red from finger tips to wrist. A
gasp of dismay escaped him. Again he felt all
about the wet place with his right hand. Now the
blood was streaming down his .i.in. He discov-
ered the woimd — a tender spot, high up.

" I must stop it." he muttered. " It's working
like a pump. If I don't i)lug u up, or tie it up,
mighty (pu'ck. I'll be drained dry."

A v'sion of his bloodless corpse prone on the
forest moss flashed across his mind. Then he set
swiftly and cleverly to work to check the flow of
blood. First, he made a thick pad of dry moss
and a handkerchief, and bound it tightly over the
wound with a silk scarf from his neck. Then he
removed his elastic suspenders, and twisted them
over his slKnilder and under his armpit four times.
The pulsing became fainter and fainter, and at last
could not be felt at all.

" Thank God ! " he exclaimed. " I do believe

Rayton is Reminded of the Crosses 175

I've dune the trick. Fine thing, these patent
Yankee suspenders."

He got to his feet, swayed, and sat down again.

" 1 must have lost a {|uart or t\vo," he muttered.
"No head — no knees — no insides."

He .sat very stiff for a Httle while in deep but
meaningless thought. His mind felt like a feather

— a puff of smoke — drifting dust. An impish
-wind was blowing it, and would not allow it to

settle.

" This is queer," he said. " Is it loss of blood

— or shock? Must do something."

He scrambled to his feet again, picked up his
gun, and pressed forward a distance of about
twenty yards. He felt a tickling in his shoulder
again. It strengthened to a faint throbbing. The
horror of bleeding to death returned to him with
a grip on his heart. Pain he could struggle against,
and perhaps dominate; but this was not pain.
This was tender and warm — this flowing out of
life.

He sat down again, and again the pulsing quieted
and ceased. He saw that he must make a night
of it in the woods, unless help came to him. He
could not go forward in search of help. He must
keep still — or bleed to death. He saw this very

176

r."

.i!i

A Backwoods Mystery

clearly, as if written in great white letters on a
wall oi blackness. And, more dimly, he saw the
danger of freezing during the long, cold night.
Though warmly clothed, he had no blanket or wrap
of any kind.

Fire was the only thing at his command that
could keep the frost away. Reaching about with
his right hand, he pulled up a great quantity of
dry moss. Then he shifted his position a little,
and rcjjeated the operation. His arm was feeling
numb now, and he could not detect any hint of
the pulsing sensation.

Twilight had deepened to night in the forest,
and a still cdUI was creeping in from the vast
overhead and the wide, empty portals of the north.
Rayton felt abcnit in the underbrush, and discov-
ered plenty (jf dry fuel, some of it even lying
detached upon the ground. He piled his brush and
moss to one side of the irregular circle which he
had cleared down to the rock and soil, working
with the least possible effort. With his sheath
knife he cut some living brush, some young spruces,
and a few small saplings.

By this time, his left arm and side were aching
dully, but his head felt steadier. He placed a bunch
of moss, twigs, and larger sticks in the cleared

I. iv

Vv'i

Rayton is Reminded of the Crosses 177

space, and struck a match. The flame curled up,
grew, crowned the dry heap, and painted the crowd-
ing walls of the forest with red, dancing shadows.
There was no wind — nothing astir in the air but
the drifting frost. The smoke of the fire went
straight up toward the high, aching stars, and the
heat spread around in a narrow circle. Ray-
ton squatted close to the fire, and fed it with
more dry sticks, and soon with some of the green

wood.

A sudden drowsiness came to him with the sooth-
ing glow of the fire. He fought against it for
a few minutes, and even nerved himself to crawl
away and drag in a large half-rotted stump. He
placed this valuable addition to his store of fuel
fairly on the top of the fire, banked more dry stuff
beneath and around it. and then lay down on his
couch of moss. He felt comfortably warm, deli-
ciously sleepy, and absolutely care free. The pam
in his arm was almost as numb as the arm itself.
He scarcely noticed it.

" This isn't so very bad. after all," he murmured.
" So long as that pumping doesn't begin again, I
really don't care."

He lay on his right side, deep in the dry moss,
and gazed into the fire. He saw the red and ye!-

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]J^ A Backwoods Mystery

low Hames crawl up the Hanks of the shattered and
hollow stump.

" It will catch," he murmured. " It will be all
ri^'ht. That's — a ^^ood — fire. I'll just lie —
here — and watch it — burn. Don't think I'd —
better — go to sleep. Not sleepy — any — way."

And then his lids slid down ; and in his dreams
he continued to watch the red and yellow Hanies
rise and fall, creep up, bruig down, and mount
again. He dreamed that he did not sleep, but lay
and watched the fire crown the shattered stump
and gnaw a dozen passages into its hollow heart.
That was all of his dream. It was no more than
a picture, as far as progress and action were con-
cerned. It seemed to him that he lay deep in the
dry moss, on his right side, with his eyes wide
open. So, for a few minutes — and then the fire
died down suddenly to l)lackness — so suddenly
that he sat bolt upright, and uttered a cry of dis-
may.

It had been a dream. Rayton had dreamed the
long night away, thinking himself awake; and
now the cheerless gray of a November dawn was
sifting through the forest. The fire was a patch
of dead ashes. The air was bitterly cold. Rayton
felt stiflF and sore. His hands and feet were like

Rayton is Reminded of the Crosses 179

ice. As he sank back upon his right elbow, a sharp
p;iin stabbed him in the side. He groaned piti-
fully.

" This is worse than the bullet wound," he mut-
tered. " And this is all my own fault for going

to sleep."

His shoulder, fortunately, neither bled nor
pained him. The blood in the pad of moss was
dry. The arm was stiff, owing largely to the grip
of the elastic suspenders and the bandages; but that
was only to be expected. This hot pain in the
side, however, leaping inward with every breath
and movement, told him of a serious danger.

" I'll just warm myself a bit, and then get out,"
he said. "I must get out, this time!"

He managed to heap up an armful of moss and
twigs, and set it alight. He crawled close to the
(piick flames, almost embracing the mound of
smoke and fire. Little sparks flew out, and fell
upon his heavy, frosted clothing, scorched for a
little while, and then blinked to nothingness, un-
heeded. He piled on more fuel, and fairly
breathed the heat into his lungs.

A shout rang strongly and hopefully through the
silent forest. Rayton sat np weakly, and gazed
around him. The light was dim, and he saw

180

A Backwoods Mystery

■ fc^'

Ki ' ' '

nothing but the soaring trees and crowding under-
brush. He tried to shout — but his voice was no
more than a whisper. He tried again, with des-
perate effort, anrl groaned with the hot agony that
stabbed his lungs. He put more dry fuel on the
fire, for here was a signal more sure to guide help
to him that any outcry. Not contem with this,
however, he crawled to his gun. inserted a loaded
cartridge, and discharged it into the ground; then
crawled close to the fire again, lay prone, and made
no struggle against waves of flashing color and
gigantic sound that flowed over him, trampling
him down, down fathoms deep.

When Rayton returned to the surface of that
mighty tide, he discovered his head to be sup-
ported by a human shoulder and arm. A flask,
gripped by a big, familiar hand, was against his
I'ps. On the other side of the fire stood Dick
Goodine, gazing across at him with haggard eyes.
Among the trees, the daylight was stronger, and
held a hint of sunshine. He sighed, and parted his
lips, and the poteuc liquor from the tilting flask
trickled down his throat and glowed within him.

"Thanks, you chaps." he muttered. "I'm
mighty glad you found me."

"Drink some more," said Banks tenderly.

Rayton is Reminded of the Crosses 181

" You feel like a block of ice. Swig away, there's
a gc'^'J fellow. Better be drunk than dead ! "

Rayton took another big swallow of the stinging
brandy. Then, reviving swiftly, he pushed the
(lask away.

"That's better," he said. "But I'm afraid I've
caught a whacker of a cold. Let my fire go out,
you know. Got shot — and built a fire — and
went to sleep. Very foolish. How'd you happen
to find me so soon? Good thing. My side feels
like the devil! "

" You just keep (juiet for a while longer," said
Banks. " We're going to roll you up in this
blanket, now, and feed you with hot beef tea."

Dick Goodine, who had not moved or spoken
before, nov/ passed around the fire, stooped, and
took the Englishman's right Iiand in both of his.

" I'm almighty glad you — you are awake,
Reginald," he said huskily.

Then he straightened himself quickly, and
turned away.

They rolled Rayton in two blankets, and placed
him on a deep couch of moss, close to the fire.
They bared his feet, and rubbed them to a glow.
They filled him to the neck with scalding beef
tea. strongly laced with brandy. They built up the

182

A Backwoods Mystery

.1 ■

fire, until it roared like a burning hay barn. Banks
cut away the left sleeve of the blanket jumper, re-
moved some of the dry blood, and examined the
woimd.

" Clean as a whistle! " he exclaimed. " In here
and out there. That is nothing to worry about,
I guess — now that it has stopped bleeding."

Goodine examined the shoulder in silence, and
looked tremendously relieved to see so clean a
wound. Banks loosened the pinch of the elastic
suspenders over and under the shoulder. Then he
put on fresh bandages.

"How is the side feeling now?" he asked.

The Englishman smiled and nodded, mumbled
some ghosts of words, and then, under the spell of
the beef tea and brandy inside him, and the heat
of the fire on his body, sank again to sleep. For
a few minutes his two friends sat and watched
him in silence. Dick Goodine was the first to
speak.

"D'ye think he'll pull 'round all right ^" he
whispered.

" Of course he'll pull 'round," replied the New
Yorker. " He is as strong as a horse, and the
bullet wound is not serious. His blood is clean,
thank Heaven! — as clean as his heart. He has

Rayton is Reminded of the Crosses 183

got cold right into his bones; but if the heat will
drive out cold, I guess we'll thaw him, Dick. Now
is the time to try, anyway, before it gets set.
\Ve']l keep the fire roaring. And in half an hour
we'll wad more hot drinks into him. We'll drive
that pain out of his side, or bust! "

The trapper nodded, his dark eyes fixed upon
Rayton's quiet face with a haunted and mournful
regard.

" We'll take him home before night," continued
^Tr. Banks; "and then w^e'll go gunning for the
skunk who tried to murder him ! "

" You bet we will ! " replied Goodine huskily.

CFIAPTER XIII

hp:

CAPTAIN WIGMORE SUGGESTS AN AMAZING THING

Rayton's chest and side felt much better when
he awoke from his second deep sleep by the fire.
It was noon; and though the air was frosty, the
sun was shining. Mr. Banks administered more
beef tea to liim, piping hot.

"How did you happen to find me so soon?"
asked the Engh"shman.

"Thank Dick for that," said Banks. "He
dragged me out of !)ed before dawn. He heard
the shooting last night; but didn't think much
about it then. But when he learned that you had
been out all day he began to worry."

Dick Goodine nodded.

" That's right," he said. " The more I thought
over them two shots, an' the yellin' I heard, the
queerer it all seemed to me."

" Did you sec any one. Reginald? " asked Banks.
" Do you know who plugged you — or can you
make a guess? "

184

An Amazing Thing

185

Rayto.T shook his head. " I didn't see anything,"
he rephed — " not even the flash of the rifle. No,
I can't guess. It was all so sudden ! — and I was
so daslied angry and surprised, you know! I let
fly with both barrels — and then I fell down.
Blood was just spurting, you know. I fell very
weak — and mad enough to chew somebody."

" So you fired the second sliot, did you?" que-
ried Banks.

" Yes. I only hope I peppered the dirty cad.
Of course, it may not have been intentional. I
haven't thouglit it out yet. Whoever fired the shot
mny have mistaken me for a moose or deer. But
it is pretty hard lines, T think, if ■ chap can't walk
through the woods without D g sniped at by
some fool with a rifle."

" That's what set me wonderin' — that second
shot." said the trapper. " I was a durned ' 'jit.
though! T might er known there wasn't any
strangers shootin' 'round this country now — any
of the kind that hollers like all git-out every time
they hit something — or think they do. But I was
a good ways ofT. an' late, so I just kept hikin'
along for home."

" That's all right, old hoy." said Rayton. " No
harm done, I think. But are you sure there are

1H(}

A Backwoods Mystery

\-i

U'h.

> do you

no stratif^crs in the woods now?
tliink shot inc. then? "

"Certainly not a stranger!" exclaimed the New
^'>rker. " Wm may het on that. Ke,i,'inald. The
nninleroiis, sncal^ill,l,^ u hite-hvered sknnk who shot
you IS the same animal who set fire to young
Marsirs cauii)— the same vicious fo.,I who is at
the l)..ti,,ui .,f all this marked-canl business "

"r.reat heavens!" exclaimed the I'u-Iishman.
" '>" you really heli've that? Then the card trick-
's getting pretty serious. What do you think
nhout it. Dick?"

" It heats me!" said Dick, in a flat voice. " T
d..n't know — an' T can't guess. It's a mighty
nasfy-lo.kin' business, that's all I can say. Looks
to me like a job for the police."

"Not yet!" ciie.l Rayton. " [ can look after
myself. Promise me to keep (juiet about it, will
you? That will give us a chance to look 'roimd
a bit tor ourselves. We don't want to start the
whole country fussing about."
^^ "But what about Nash?" a.sked Mr. Hanks.
" He is bound to know. You'll have to tell him
how you came by the puncture in your shoulder."
" That is all right. It is only a fle.sh wound,
and clean as a whistle. I don't need Nash."

An Amazing Thing

187

" We'll not argue about tliat, Reginald," re-
turned Banks. " Here, drink this brandy, and
then we'll start for home with you. I am bossing
tills show."

Two hfturs and twenty minutes later they had
Rayton comfortably tucked away between the
warm sheets of his own iicd. His two stalwart
friends had carried him every yard of the way.
in a blanket, and he had not sufTered from the
journey. Ranks unbandaged his shoulder, and
isamined the wound. He washed it in warm
water, and moved the arm gently. The blood
began to flow freely. He bound the shoulder
lightly, and nodded to the trapper.

" Where are you going? " asked Rayton, as Dick
opened the door.

" For Doctor Nash," answered Dick, and the
door slammed behind him.

Dick saddled one of the horses, and rode off at
a gallop. He was lucky to find the doctor at home
in the farm-house where he boarded. He delivered
his message briefly, but clearly. Nash rubbed his
hands together, and informed the trapper that
there was another doctor at Bird Portage, twenty
miles awav. When asked to explain this remark,
he blustered and swore, and at last said frankly

188

A Backwoods Mystery

!i:

i|?

that Rayton could bleed to death for all he
cared.

" If you don't come peaceful an' quiet," said
Goodine slowly, "then — by hell! — you'll come
the other way! "

Their eyes met, and flared for a second or two.
Then Nash wavered.

" I'll come," he said.

" I'll wait for you," said the trapper. " Git a

move on."

When they reached Rayton's house they found
old Captain Wigmore in the sitting room, smoking
a cigar and smiling sardonically. Nash went up-
stairs, but Wigmore beckoned the trapper to him.

" I've wormed it out of them," he said. " I
know all about it; and that means that I know a
good deal more about it than you do."

"What? More about what?" asked Goodine
an.xiously.

"Just this, my good trapper of foolish beasts!
Nash is the man who put the hole through the
Englishman's shoulder!"

Dick stared. At last he regained the use of his

tongue.

" You're cracked ! " he exclaimed. " Nash didn't
do it!"

An Amazing Thing

189

"What do you know about it?"

" Well, I guess I know that much, anyhow."

"Then who did it?"

" Don't know."

" But I do. You keep your eye on Nash when
I tackle him. Then you'll know."

Dick shook his head.

" I guess not," he murmured, and went upstairs,
leaving the captain alone with his thin smile and

long cigar. .

" I do believe that old crow has a slat loose,
reflected the trapper. " I'd give a good lot to know
what he's truly thinking about, anyhow."

Doctor Nash, after brief greetings, set to work
on Rayton's wounded shoulder. He made a close
examination, but asked no questions. He worked
swiftly for about half an hour.

" That's done," he said. " Ml you have to do
now is to keep still for a while." He paused and
turned to Banks. "Has he been insulting and
assaulting somebody else lately?" he asked.

"Don't know," returned the New Yorker.

"Why?"

" Just an idea of mine," replied Nash. " Some
men are not as good-natured as I am, you know.
Somebody took a shot at him — and I was just

Mi A

}. t

Bi'

? Hs; ■

' - f-k

} S f

m\ 1

ill

' '{

mvv

^^^ A Backwoods Mystery

wondering why. It does not often happen 'round
here."

" You a-e the only person T have behaved like
that to." said Rayton, " and — and — well, I am
dashed sorry I lost my temper. I beg your pardon,
Nash. I am very sorry, honestly. I behaved like
a cad."

"You should have thought of that before,"
sneered Nash.

At that moment old Captain Wigmore ente- ,d
the room on the tips of his neat little toes, smihng
behintl his whiskers.

" I see you've brought your company manners
with you." said Nash. " I thought you saved them
up for the ladies." He had the old fellow on his
black list.

"Is that you, doctor?" returned the captain
pleasantly. " So you have been patching up this
young man, I see. What do you think of your
work? "

" Of my work? Oh, I guess my work is good
enough. Have you anything to say about it?"

" Why, yes. now that you ask me. Five or six
inches to the side would have done the job. Why
duln't you do it when you were at it?"

Dick Goodinc guessed what was coming; but

An Amazing Thing

191

the other three stared at the old man in frank
amazement. Nash looked bewildered.

"Six inches?" he queried. "Done the job?
What the devil are you talking about? "

" There are none so blind as those who won't
see," replied Wigmore, leering.

"What d'you mean? What are you grinning

at?"

" Don't get excited, doctor. Bluster and bluff
don't frighten me." He stepped close to Rayton.
" Who d'you think put that hole through your
shoulder, Reginald ? " he asked.

" Haven't the least idea. Wish I had," replied
the invalid.

' Dear me! What a dull young man you are,"

jeered Wigmore.

" Don't follow you," said the Englishman.

" Same here," said Banks.

Captain Wigmore chuckled. "I don't suppose
you have an enemy anywhere within five hundred
miles of here?" he queried.

" Not to my knowledge," said Rayton.

" Then why did you and Nash fly at each other
day before yesterday, in the middle of the road?
Why did you knock your dear friend flat in the
mud? "

'■y

I J

192

A Backwoods Mystery

'3 iSI

En I

), I >'■

"Oh, give us a rest!" exclaimed Nash, flushing
darkly, and scowling at the old man.

" That was nothing more than — than a sudden
explosion of bad temper," said Rayton.

VVigmore nodded his head briskly, and turned
to the doctor.

" And I noticed," he said, " that you did not
wait to be knocked down a second time. You
hopped into your rig, and drove away at top speed.
He who fights anci runs away — ah?"

" Really, captain, what is the necessity of all
this?" protested Mr. Banks.

Wigmore waved his hand toward thi big New
Yorker, as if at a fly that had buzzed in his ear.
His keen, glinting eyes were fixed with a terrible,
rejoicing intentness upon Doctor Nash.

" What were you doing in the woods yesterday
afternoon? " he asked.

" Confound you ! " cried Nash furiously. " What
are you talking about? What do you mean to
imply? You skinny little runt, you must be mad! "

Wigmore laughed with a sound like the clatter-
ing together of dry bones. Mr. Banks gripped
him roughly by a thin, hard arm.

"Enough of this!" cried the big sportsman.
" Either speak out like a man, or shut up ! "

An Amazing Thing

193

" \^ery good," returned the captain, with another
mirthless laugh. "All i want to know is what
Doctor Nash was doing in the woods to the west
of here yesterday afternoon, with a rifle. What
game were you after, doctor? I have always heard
that you were not very keen on that kmd of

sport."

"I wasn't in the woods!" cried Nash. "You

are a liar! "

" Don't call mc a liar, please," protested the old
man. " It is Benjamin Samson who is the liar,
in this case. He told me that you borrowed his
rifle yesterday, just before noon, and struck into
the woods."

Nash gasped, and his face faded to the sickly
tint of a tallow candle. He stared wildly at Wig-
more, then wildly around at the others. He
opened and closed his mouth several times noise-
lessly, like a big fish newly landed on the bank.
But at last his voice returned to him suddenly and

shrilly.

" I forgot! " he cried. " I was out yesterday —
with Samson's rifle — after all. But what about
it? Why shouldn't I go shooting if T want to?
This is a free country! But I know what you are
— rrying to make Rayton think — you dirty little

i. \

\\i

'rr.i

194

A Backwoods Mystery

'iij : »•

gray badger! You are hinting that I shot him!
I'll have the law on you for this, you — you "

" I'll not wait to hear the rest of it, though it
IS sure to be apt anr! pictnrcsr|ue." said the captain,
nashing his dazzling "store" teeth. " Good-by.
Reginald, Good-by, all. See you to-morrow."

He bowed, skipped from the room, and hurried
downstairs, and out of the house. Doctor Nash
sprang after him to the top of the stairs, trembling
and stuttering with rage; but he did not go any
farther. He turned, after a moment or two, and
re-entered the room. He strode up to the bed.

"Do you believe that?" he cried. "Do you
believe that T shot you, Reginald Rayton?"

"Certainly not." replied Rayton promptly.
" You wouldn't be such a fool as to borrow a rifle
to do it with, even if you wanted to kill me."

Nash turned upon Banks and Dick Goodine.

" And you two ? " he cried. " Do you think that
I tried to murder Rayton? That I fired that
shot?"

Dick Goodine, who stood by the window, with
his face averted, answered with a silent shake of
the head. Mr. Banks did not let the question pass
so lightly, however. For several seconds he gazed
steadily, keenly, inquiringly into Nash's angry

An Amazing Thing

195

eyes. He was very cool and ponderous. 1 he
scene suggested to Reginald Ray ton the judgment
of a mortal by a just but inexorable god. Only
his ever-ready sense of politeness kept him from
smiling broadly. Nash glared, and began to mut-
ter uneasily. At last the big New Yorker
spoke.

" Circumstances are against you, Nash," he said
slowly. " Nobody can deny that. There is bad
blood between you and Reginald. Reginald loses
his temper, and gives you a trimming. On the
following day you borrow a rifle, and go into the
woods, and that evening the man who punched you
in the jaw is shot through the shoulder. It looks
bad, Nash — mighty bad! But — keep quiet! —
but, in spite of appearances, I don't think you are
the guilty person."

" Then why the devil didn't you say so before? "
cried the doctor, trembling.

" Calm yourself," replied Mr. Banks, " and I'll
try to explain to you my reasons for naming you
guiltless. In the first place, I believe you to be
a touch above shooting a man in the dark. What-
ever you may be in yourself, your profession would
make you better than that. In tlie second place,
I don't think that you have any hand in the game

■?.

190 A Backwoods Mystery

of the marked cards — and I am quite sure that
the person who marks those cards knows who put
the hole through Reginald's shoulder."

Nash looked startled.

" I forgot about that ! " he exclaimed. " Rayton
told me that the card was dealt to him — and then
the — the subseciuent argument we had kind of put
it out of my head."

Banks smiled. "Quite so. I don't wonder at
it," he said. "But tell me, do you still believe
Jirn Ilarley to be at the bottom of the card
trick?"

Nash shot a glance at the bandaged maii in the
bed. "I do," he replied. "I stick to that until
some one proves it untrue, though every man in
this room gives me a punch in the jaw. It
is a free country, and I have a right to my opin-
ion."

" Of course you have," agreed the New Yorker;
" but I'll show you the real trickster within two
days from now. In the meantime, I shall keep
my suspicions and plans to myself."

Early that evening the snow began to fall, and
by breakfast the next morning it lay a foot deep
over the frozen wilderness. Mr. Banks prepared
his own breakfast and Rayton's, and they ate to-

An Amazing Thing

197

gcther in Raytcm's room. Banks was washing the
(Hshcs in the kitchen when Uick Goodine opened
tlie door, and stepped inside.

" I'm otif," said the trapper. " Tf I don't get
husy pretty (piick, I won't have one fox skin to
show, come spring."

He went upstairs, treading noiselessly as a bob-
cat, in his snowy moccasins, shook hands with
Rayton, asked considerately about the shoulder, and
then went out into the white world.

"T like that man," said Banks. "He's true

blue."

" Right you are," replied the Englishman.

The last pan was cleaned and put away, when
Banks was aroused from deep thought by a faint
knocking on the front door. He pulled down the
sleeves of his shir^, wriggled into his coat, made a
hurried pass at the thai hair on top of his head,
with a crumb brush, then took his way decorously
along the hall, wondering who the formal caller
might be. He opened the door, and found Nell
Harley in the little poich. Her clear face was
flushed vividly, and her clear eyes were wide with

anxiety.

Mr. Banks mastered his astonishment before it

reached his eyes.

198

A Backwoods Mystery

m ,'

"Come in! Come in!" he exclaimed. "Ihis
is delightful of you, Miss Ilarley."

He seized one of her gloved hands, drew her
into the narrow hall, and closed the door.

"Jim started for one of his camps — early this
morning — before we heard," she said. "So I
have come to — to see Mr. Rayton. Is — he very
— ill?"

"111!" repeated Mr. Banks cheerfully. "My
dear young lady, he is fit as a fiddle. We broke
up his cold yesterday, you know, and the scratch
on his shoulder is ncjthing. Please come in here.
I'll just touch a match to the fire."

"Where is Mr. Rayton?" she asked, as he
stooped to light the fire in the sitting-room stove.

" Oh, he's at home. I'll tell him you are here."

" I'm sure he is in bed."

" W^ell, so he is. It is the safest place to keep
him. you know, for he is always getting into
trouble."

"I — I want to see him — to speak to him."
she whispered.

" Then vvait a minute, please. I'll run upstairs
and try to make him look pretty." said Mr. Banks.

When Miss Harley entered Rayton's bedroom,
she found the invalid sitting up against a stack

) *

An Amazing Thing

1{)0

of pillows, smiling cheerfully, slightly Hushed, his
shoulders draped with a scarlet blanket. He ex-
tended his hand. She drew off her gloves, and
took it firmly. Neither spoke for fully half a

nil

nute. Mr. Hanks left the room,

light

his feet

as a prowling cat.

*' It is the curse." she said, at last, unsteadily.
"When you are strong again you — you must go

away."

"Am T really in danger?" he asked very softly.
" Under the olil conditions of the curse, you
know ? "

Her eyes wavered.

"Your life has been attempted," she whispered.

" T mean to stay," he replied, somewhat breath-
lessly, " until that curse has done its worst on me
— or until you love me!"

CHAPTER XIV

^;}) ll r

FEAR FORGOTTEN AND RECALLED

The c(jIor slipped away, then Hooded back to
Nell llarlcy's checks and brow. Her fine eyes
brightened, then dimmed sweetly. She withdrew
her hand from his, and turned away.

" Until you Kne nie," repeated Rayton, in a dry
voice tiiat strove to he both commonplace and cour
ageous. " H — if that is not to be," he continueu,
" then I will go away."

She whispered something; but because of her
averted face he did i^'t catch the words.

" I beg your pardcni .-^ " he queried fearfully. " I
did not hear."

Now she stf)f)d with her back to him; hut not
far from his one capable hand hanging empty and
hungry over the edge of the bed.

"Can't you — pretend?" she asked very faintly.

"Pretend?" he repeated, in wonder; for, after
all, he was rather a simple soul in some things.
"Pretend? I am not pretending. 1 don't think

200

her

'• • IT 1-^ IllA Al^K — 111-1 AL

>K I I ARE J.U KOK vm; —

^I'h

Pli:

Fear Forgotten — and Recalled

201

I am much of a hand at pretending. What — do

you mean? "

.<If._you — care for me — please pretend that
you do not like me at all. Keep away from our
place — you know, and — and when we meet by
accident — don't — don't look at me a:^ — you do."
Rayton did not answer immediately.
" I couldn't do that," he said, after a brief but
electrical silence. "Of course I could — hnt it
would be harder for me than - than bcmg shot
every day of my life. I am rather a fool at pre-
tending, ' I'm afraid. But if you say so, a you
say I — I have no chance, then I'll clear out — at
the double — without a kick ! "

"It is because — because I care so for you —
that I ask you to do these things," she whispered.

The Englishman gasped, then trembled. He
gazed at the young woman's straight, fur-clad back
with an untranslatable illumination in his wide eyes.
His lips moved, but uttered no sound. Then a
brief, wondering smile beautified his thin face. He
moved his shoulders on the pillow furtively. He
leaned sideways, and stretched forth his hand. The
strong, brown fingers touched a fold of ;hc long
f„r coat, and closed upon it tenderly, but firmly.
She neither turned nor moved.

1 'i

202

A Backwoods Mystery

" That curse is only a bad dream," he said, his
voice gruff with tlie effort of speaking in a tone
below a joyous shout. " There is no curse! Son-?
misguided person is trying to make fools of us
all. His game will be spoiled in a day or two.
Why should we fear him? — whoever he is! I
do not want to go away from you — even for a
mniute! I cannot hide my love for you. You
would think me a poor sort of man if I could. I
love you! I love you! I love you! Dearest —
say that again ! "

He pulled gently, half fearfully, on the fur coat.
Nell turned slowly, and faced him. Her lips trem-
bled, and her white throat fluttered. Two bright
tear<= glinted on her cheeks, all unheeded — by her.
He took note of them, however, and was enrap-
tured with their beauty, as no fire and gleam of
diamonds could have enraptured him. She smiled
slowly, with parted, tremulous lips and shining
eyes. She smiled at his illuminated, awe-stricken,
yearning face. She looked down at the hand clasp-
ing the skirt of her coat so desperately.
"Do you care — so much?" she asked.
" T love you," he said gravely.
" T wonder why you love me ! I am not — beau-
tiful."

'i"*

Fear Forgotten — and Recalled

203

jerk,

the

He pulled again, with a spasmodic

fur coat.

"Beautiiul!" he cried. "You? You are the
most beautiful thing God ever made!"

" Reginald ! " she protested, in a whisper, gazing
down at his hand so as to hide her face from him.

He was full of courage now. Even love could
not frighten him. Daring blazed in him.

"Kiss me — quick!" l.e whispered. "I hear
Banks on the stairs! Quick!" He pulled at the
coat, with fearless determination. For a fraction
of a second she resisted; and then, sudden, impetu-
ous, whole-hearted, she stepped forward, sank to
her knees beside the bed, pressed her young breast
to his unwotmded shoulder, and her lips to his. He
felt the moisture of her tears. The ascending
Banks was forgotten.

" Hem I Ah — I beg your pardor ' " exclaimed

the New Yorker.

The girl was on her feet, and two yards away
from the bed in a flash. Her cheeks and brow
were crimson; but she faced the big sportsman
with something of defiance in her attitude. Reg-
inald Rayton neither moved nor spoke. He lay
with his eyes closed, breathing quickly. Mr. Banks
looked the most guilty of the three. He shuffled

I'm

I 1. SS3

I'-"

204

A Backwnnr^<; Mystcry

his feet. His glance cil before the glory and
daring of the girl's face. He saw that it was
beautiful, now absolutely beautiful, and he knew
love to be the beautifier. He was abashed. For
a few seconds he was utterly bereft of his usual
aplomb. Had he been the inspiration of that light
on her face and in her eyes, it is probable that
he would have known exactly what to do. At last
he advanced, uowed ponderously, and lifted one of
her hands to his lips. Then he stepped over to
the bed.

" Reginald, you have all the luck," he said. " I
congratulate you from the bottom of my heart.
I'd take on the risks myself for — well, for one-
tenth part of the reward."

Nell came back to earth — to the lower levels
where lives are lived out, and fear stalks through
sun and shadow.

"The risks! 1 had forgotten them," she whis-
pered.

Mr. Banks completed his recovery at that. He
turned to her, smiling, his capable, bland self
again.

"If you are thinking of the card trick," he said,
" I beg you to put it out of your mind forever.
There is a fool working that card trick — and that

K H.I

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Fear Forgotten — and Recalled

205

is all it has to do with a curse. A fool is always
a curse. So don't worry! Reginald is as safe
as I am, for I'll have the mask off that fool, and
the claws out of him before he can try any more
of his mad games. AH you have to do, my dear
is trust Harvey P. Banks -and love this calf.
Reginald, I suppose."

" You are very, very kind," she answered gently,
" and I hope and pray that you are right. I must
go home now, or Kate will be anxious. Good-by.
Mr Banks. Good-by, Reginald."

When the New Yorker returned from lettmg
Miss Harley out of the house, he sat down m a
chair beside his friend's bed, lit a cigar, tdted his
head far back, and smiled at the ceiling. For
several minutes neither of the men spoke. Then
Rayton said, in a nervous voice : " You don't think
she'll catch cold going home, do you?

"No my soft and addled lover," replied Mr.
Banks. ' " She is not at all likely to catch cold.
She is wearing a long coat of mink skins, with
other things inside it. no doubt. Her boots are
thick- her gloves are lined with fur; her hat —
all I 'am not sure of her hat. There is danger, of
course, that the sky may fall down on her, or that
a rail may fly off a fence and hit her on the head.

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206

A Backwoods Mystery

K'-

But the chances are that she'll win home safely,
and live until to-morrow."

" Those are not things to joke about," said Ray-
ton reprovingly.

The other laughed long and hard. Then:
" Right you are," ';e said. " Seriously, Reginald,
I am sore with envy of you. I have lived a long
time, in many cities of the world, and have known
many women — but I give first prize to this girl
of yours. I have loved many; but here, again,
Nell Harley takes first honors."

"What? D'ye mean that ynu love her, too,
H. P. ? " asked the Englishman anxiously.

" Sure thing," replied the New Yorker. " What
d'you think I am made of, anyway? D'you think
I am blind, deaf, and heartless? Of course. I love
her! — but you needn't glare at me, Reginald. I'm
not running. I know when to sit down and do
the delighted uncle act. That girl loves you; and,
if T have learned anything in my varied career,
she'll keep on loving you till the end of the game.
You are a lucky dog, Reginald, and I give you my
blessing."

" Thanks very much. H. P.," returned Rayton,
with emotion. " I am a lucky chap, and no mis-
take!"

til

Fear Forgotten — and Recalled

207

In the meantime, x\ell Harley made a swift and
glowing passage across the field. She found Kate
in the sitting room.

"Is Mr. Rayton in a serious condition?" asked
Kate. "Dear mc, what a ppler.did color you
have! You look really beautiful. What has hap-
pened? "

Nell began to laugh excitedly. She threw aside
her gloves and mink-skin coat. She cut several un-
classified dancing steps on the rug in front of the

"What on earth is the matter with you?" de-
manded the young matron anxiously.

"Nothing," said Nell. "I kissed him — that

is all."

"You kissed him? Good gracious! What

for?"

" He told me to."

"ToW you to?"

"Yes. Well, he asked me to. He — he said
he would rathci- be shot through the shoulder every
day of his life than go away from — me. He said
he loved me — he said it over and over and over
again. He says it is nonsense — all about that
curse. So it is Then, all of a sudden, 1
just

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A Backwoods Mystery

f 1 : '

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" I'cll into his arms," interrupted the young
matron.

" No, indeed ! That would have hurt his shoul-
der. Anyway, he was in bed, and bandaged. I
just didn't care about anything or anybody in the
world except him — and then I kissed him. Then
Mr. Banks came in — and caught us!"

" Nell ! "

" And as soon as he recovered himself he kissed
my hand, and congratulated Reginald, and prom-
ised to catch the man who shot him before he has
a chance to shoot him again."

" Nell, you talk like — like a — I don't know
what! You went away almost frightened to death
about that marked card and the old family curse
— and now you — you are absolutely brazen. I
never heard you talk like this before. I never saw
you act or look like this before. What will Jim
say when he hears of it? "

" I don't care what Jim says," replied Nell.
" He can keep on believing in that old cur.se if
he chooses. Reginald is not afraid of it — so
neither am I — now. It is wonderful to be loved
like that, Kate!"

" Pooh ! Teach your grandmother ! " retorted
Kate.

Fear Forgotten — and Recalled

209

Nell's excitement soon passed, and fear stole
back into her heart — fear that some new danger
tlireatened the man she loved. And just as her
love was greater now than it had been before that
first kiss, so was the fear greater now. And her
belief in the curse — the supernatural curse — of
the marked card, returned to her. She remem-
bered her father's adventure and tragic death.
She went up to her own room, and knelt by the
head of her own bed, as she had knelt at the head
of Reginald Rayton's. But now she knelt to pray.
Things continued to happen at Rayton's house
during the remainder of the day. Doctor Nash
called iust about noon, examined the wound, de-
tected and treated a slight cold in the chest, and
stayed to dinner. He helped Banks get dinner,
and even made a show of drying the dishes after-
ward. He was evidently doing his best to forget
his quarrel with the Englishman. Old Wigmore's
accusation seemed to be worrying him considerably.
He referred to it frequently, and even accounted
for himself minutely during the season of his
possession of the borrowed rifle. Rayton laughed

at him.

" I know you didn't shoot me, so why explain? "

said the Englishman.

210

A Backwoods Mystery

" It is just as well to explain the thing. Old
^\'igmore has a poisonous tongue and a poisonous
mind," returned the doctor. " I believe he is
cracked."

Nash had not been gone more than an hour
when Captain Wigmore himself appeared.

" i am lonely," said the old man, " and I
am getting rather sick of doing my own cook-
ing."

"Thought Fletcher did the cooking," sa: Mr.
Banks.

"So he did; but he has gone away," replied
Wigmorc. " He cleared out some time or other
night before last — the night you were shot,
Reginald."

"Where for — and what for?" asked Banks,
getting interested.

" He said, in a letter that he was good enough
to leave behind him, that he is tired of me
and of the backwoods, and can do better for him-
self in New York. I suppose h- has set out for
New York. He is a queer f^sh, you know, is old
Timothy Fletcher. He has been with me for
years, and has always been more trouble to me
than comfort. Rut he was a handy man and a
good cook. I am sorry he took it into his head

Fear Forgotten — and Recalled ^H

! \

to go just now. It makes It very awkward for

me.

"Did he take anything with him?" asked th.

would-be detective.

" Only his own duds — and a little rye whisky."

" Where was he the afternoon and evening be-
fore his departure?"

"Where was he? Let me think. I am sure I
can't say, Ranks. Why ? "

"Oh, I don't know. He seemed to me rather
an interesting old codger. His manners were the
worst I ever saw. I wonder what struck him to
leave you so suddenly."

Captain Wigmore shrugged his neat shoulders

and laughed harshly.

" Perhaps the poor old chap thought he would
be suspected and accused of potting our young
friend here," he suggested. " He is a prowler, you
know. He frequently wanders 'round in the
woods for hours at a time, and he usually carries
firearms of some kind or other."

Mr. Banks leaned forward in his chair. "I
never heard of Fletcher as a sportsman," he said.
" But even so, how could he have heard of Reg-
inald's accident? You say he was gone by morn-
ing—and it was not until morning that Goodme

fl
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A Backwoods Mystery

.'it ' I

t' . (^

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r; !:

and I found Reginald. So there can't be anything
in that suggestion of yours, captain."

" Very hkely not," repHed Wiginore. " I am not
a detective and have no ambitions that way. All
I know is that Timothy went away in a hurry,
leaving a letter behind him in which he addressed
me in very disrespectful terms."

"Is that all you know, captain?"

" Not quite, after all. I had a rifle — and it has
vanished."

" Great heavens ! You knew all this, and yet
you accused Nash of having wounded Reginald!"

"Well, why not? Some on*^ must have done
it — and the circumstances are more against Nash
than Fletcher. Nash had a score to settle with Reg-
inald; but I do not think there was any bad blood
between our friend and Timothy."

"But you say Tin^.othy is queer?"

" Oh, yes, he is queer. Always has been He
is mad as a hatter — if you know how mad that
is. I don't."

"What about the marked card?" asked Rayton.
" Don't you think it is potent enough to pu.'l a
trigger without the help of either Nash or
Fletcher?"

The old man laughed. " I am getting a bit

Fear Forffotu — and Recalled

^>\\\

weary of that card/' he said. " Whoever is play-
ing that trick is working it to death. And now
that 1 come to tliink of it. it strikes mc tluit I was
the last person to receive those red marks, bo
Nvhy hasn't the cnrse, or whatever it is. struck me.

'•You were the hist." replied Rayton, "but it
was dealt to me that same evening."

" liless my soul! O'vou mean to say so?" ex-
claimed Wigmore. " That is interesting. Tt lo.^ks
as if there is something in Jim's story, after all.
let me see! The marks were han<led to Jun .
father several times, weren't they? And he came
to a sudden and violent death, di.ln't he? Of course
it must be all chance, combined by somebody's idea
of a joke — but it looks very strange to me. I
don't like it. But why do you get the marks,
Reginald? Are you sweet on Miss Harley?"
Rayton laughed — and his laughter was his only

answer.

Banks and the captain played chess, and said
nothing more about the marked cards or Timothy
Fletcher. Captain Wigmore won all the games
easily. Then he went home. Banks put the chess-
men away, f^xed the fires downstairs, and then re-
turned to his seat by Rayton's bed. He sat for
a long time in silence, widi puckered brows.

I '

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214

A Backwoods Mystery

" Queer thing about old Fletcher," said the
Englishman.

" I believe you, my son," answered Mr. Banks.
•' It is so darned queer I guess it calls for investi-
gation. Fletcher is an exceedingly rude old man
— and his master is an exceedingly uneven old
man."

" Yes. I don't understand either of them," ad-
mitted Rayton.

Banks raised his heels to the edge of the bed,
leaned well back in his chair, and lit a cigar.

" Who tied old Fletcher to the poplar tree, d'you
suppose?" he queried.

"Haven't the faintest idea."

" But I have," said the would-be detective. " I'm
on a double track now. I'll have something to
show you coming and going."

CHAPTER XV

MR. BANKS IS STUNG

Mr. Banks went over to the Harley place early
on the morning after Nell's visit, with a note from
Reginald Rayton. The contents of the note seemed
to dehght and comfort the girl. Banks saw volets
on the sitting-room table. He stared at them m
astonishment. Mrs. Jim Harley caught the look

and laughed.

"They belong to Nell," she said. Captam
Wigmore brought them last night. I am sure he
sent all the way to Boston for them."

"Wigmore, too," remarked Banks reflectively.
" Well, we are all in the same boat."

He remained for half an hour, and then went
home with a fat missive for Reginald, from Nell,
in his pocket. The letter threw the Englishman
into a foolish glow. For a whole hour after read-
ing it he lav without a w.ird and grinned.

Banks went for a walk in the afternoon, and

215

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216

A Backwoods Mystery

met Captain Wigmore. The captain wore a new,
fur-line'l overcoat. His whiskers were brushed to
the last hair, and his manner was as dazzhngly
poHshed as his false teeth. He walked jauntily.
The two exchanged a few commonplaces very
agreeably. Then Banks, prompted by a sudden in-
spiration, went to the house of one Silas Long
and engaged the eldest son of the family, Billy
Long, aged sixteen, to live at Rayton's for a month
and attend to the wood and the stock. He made
tk ; arrangements in Rayton's name. He told the
lad to put in an appearance before sunset, and
then went home. He explained this move to
Reginald by saying frankly that he wanted to be
absolutely free to scilve the mysteries upon which,
he was engaged. The Englishman had no objec-
tions.

Mr. Banks left the hou.se again right after the
evening meal. It was a clear, starlit night. He
walked slowly toward Captain Wigmore's dwelling,
and within a few yards of the gate came face to
face with the captain.

"Hello!" exclaimed Wigmore. "Is that you,
Banks? Are you coming to see me?"

" No, I was ju.st strolling 'round for a bit of
fresh air," replied Bankr.

:(f

Mr. Banks Is Stung

217

" Well, I am glad of that. I have an engage-
ment for the evening."

"An engagement - in Samson's Mill Settle-
ment' You seem to lead a gay life, captam."

Wigmore chuckled. The New Yorker turned,
and the two walked side by side along the snowy
road for a short distance. Then Banks said : 1 U
leave you now. captain, and cut home through
the woods. Hope youll have a pleasant evemng. ^^

" I look forward to a very entertaining one,
replied the old man, chuckling.

Banks left the road, climbed a fence, and strode
along through dry snow that reached halfway to
his knees. He was in a pasture dotted with clumps

of young spruce. ^

" The conceited old idiot ! " he muttered. 1 see

his game. I'll fix him!"

He halted, behind a thicket, and stood motion-
less for a few minutes, listening intently. Then
he made a wide half circle to the right, and soon
came out again upon the beaten road but now
about a quarter of a mile beyond the captains
house Hi^. feet were cold and he stamped vigor-
ously on the ro.d to warm them. The night was
windless, but bitter.

Mr. Banks advanced stealthily toward the dark

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218

A Backwoods Mystery

house. Not a glimmer of light showed in any
window. He opened the front gate cautiously,
closed it cautiously behind him, and went furtively
up the narrow path between the snow-banked lawns.
On the step of the little front porch he paused and
listened. Then he grasped the knob of the outer
door and turned it. The door opened noiselessly.

He entered the narrow porch and stood with his
ear against the inner door. He could not hear
anything. He fumbled for the knob, found it, and
learned that the inner door was locked. He hunted
under the mat and in every corner of the porch
for the key, having heard somewhere that keys
were sometimes hidden away in just such foolish
places. He did not find it. Again he listened at
the door, this time with his ear against the key-
hole. The house was silent as a tomb.

He left the porch, clost-d the outer door, and
made his way to the left along the front of the
house and around the corner to the woodshed.
Knowing that he could n<>t possibly avoid leaving
a trail in the snow, lie shuffled his feet so as to
make it an unreadable one. He di.l this so artfully
thai not one clear impression of his big New York
hunting boots was left in his path. He opened
the door of the shed without a check and felt his

Mr. Banks Is Stung

i^l9

way between pUes of stove wood to the door of

the kitchen. „ ^

" I don't feel respectable," he murmured But
ni feel a darned sight worse if any one finds me
sneaking 'round like this. I must get m. though,
and have a look 'round."

The kitchen door was fastened tight. Banks
twisted the knob this way and that, all m vam.
In spite of his coonskin coat and fur cap he was
beginning to feel extremely chilly. He promised
himself a husky pull at a bottle of some kmd or
other should he ever manage to break mto the
house He left the shed and tried a back wmdow.
He could not get a hold on the sash, howeven
He drew a heavy clasp knife from his pocket and
forced the strong blade between the sill and the
bottom of the sash. In this way he pried the sash
up almost half an inch. The window had not been
fastened. He returned to the shed, and after a
few minutes of fumbling about in the darkness he
found an axe. By using the thick blade .f the
axe in place of the knife he soon had the window
on the move. He propped up the sash, put the
axe back in its place, and returned to the window.
With a shove of his right hand he forced it up
to the top. This done, he paused for a moment

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220

A Backwoods Mystery

w I '■

and stood with every sense and nerve on the
alert. He heard nothing, saw nothing, felt noth-
ing.

" I wonder if my little idea is the right one,

he murmured. " I wonder what I shall find."

He put his gloved hands on the sill, hoisted him-
self, tipped forward, and wriggled through the
window into the dark and silent room. His hands
touched the floor first. He pulled his legs across
the l^^dge and was about to stand straight when his
knife slipped from the pocket of his coat and clat-
tered on the floor. Still crouched low, he groped
forward, found the knife — and then!

It seemed to Harvey P. Banks that he had been
asleep a long, long time on a very uncomfortable
bed in a very stuffy room. The greatest trouble
with the bed must be in the arrangement of the
pillows, he reflected, for his neck was terribly stiff
and sore. He did not open his eyes right away.
There was a feeling in his head and eyes — yes,
and in his mouth — suggestive of other awakenings,
in the years of his gay youth. So he lay with his
eyes closed, remembering that a too sudden opening
of the lids under certain once familiar conditions
was decidedly unpleasant. He tried to get his wits
into line. Where was he? Where had he been

'I,'

Mr. Banks Is Stung

221

last night? What had he been drinking? His poor
head only throbbed in answer. So, at last, very
cautiously, he raised his heavy lids. He gazed upon
darkness -against utter darkness on every side
No Directly above his head was a faint sheen of
^ray That was a window, no doubt; but what
was a window doing above his head? That beat
him and he closed his eyes again and tried hard
to remember things. The far-away past came
clearly to him; but that did not help him. He
knew that the things he remembered were of
months — even of years — ago.

He was surprised to f^nd that he wore heavy,
fur-lined gloves, a fur cap pulled low over his
ears and forehead, and a coonskin coat. He pu
out his right hand and touched a wall of ice-cold
dusty floor. He judged that the f-r -^^ "°
more than six inches below the level of his bod>^
He put out his left hand and touched a wall of
ice-cold plaster. With a grunt of dawning dismay
he sat up. and though his neck ached and his head
spun and throbbed with the effort he leaned for-
ward and touched his feet with his gloved hands^
He felt his heavy shooting boots and a flake or
two of pressed snow on their soles -and at t^at
his brain awoke and the memory of his inf-rmal

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222

A Backwoods Mystery

entrance into Captain Wigniore's house flashed
clear. He uttered a low cry of wonder and con-
sternation.

"What happened?" he whispered. "Did I fall
and stun myself as I climbed over the window

sill?"

His head behaved so badly at this point that he
lay prone again on his hard couch. But now his
brain was working clearly, though painfully.
I'.vcry incident of his attempt to enter the house,
with a view to reading the mystery which he was
sure it ccnitained, was now as plain as a picture
before his inner vision. He reviewed the whole
adventure minutely, from the meeting with Wig-
more to the opening of the window and the drop-
ping of the knife upon the floor of the pitch-black
room. Rut what had happened after that? Some-
thing sudden — and hard! Yes, there could be no
doubt of the suddenness and hardness of the next
occurrence. But what was it? Had he toppled
forward and struck his head against a piece of
furniture? Or had something possessed of indi-
vidual initiative hk him over the head? He sat
up again, removed his gloves and cap, and felt all
over his head with chilly, inriuiring fingers. He
could not find any lump or cut; but the back and

Mr. Banks Is Stung

223

top of the head were agonizingly tender to the

'""■A sandbag -whatever that is," he muttered.
" I have heard that they effect one somewhat nl
tliis way, if l>r..l>erlv api.lie.l."

He laughed shortly and pamfnlly. H.s head
.een,ed to iKue reo-.vered sotnething of its no^al

position and halanee. Tt felt more sohd a."l stca.ly
L, the ache in it was dnller. He fun.l.led throng^,
the pockets uf his fnr coat an.l found a p.pe to-
Lcc. pouch, and bo. of matches. H.s clasp hn f
Ls ul.t there, b'.vidcutly he had not succeeded

ni nit-kin"- it up, that time.

' Sorry for L," he muttered. " I con.d carve

nn. way out of any place with that kn.fe.

He opened the fur coat, and found the contents

of his hnter pockets intact -his watch, cgar case

three rifle cartridges, the stub of a i«nc, a few
l,ocket-worn letters, and a railway tuuetable. He

Lew each article by the feel of .t. "<-■ "pened the
match box, and was gla.l to d.scover hat .t was
full Then he took out his watch and ht a ,na. 1 .
The hands of the watch tuarkcd the tin,e as half-
.,„ two -and the fact that the watch ha<l no
run down proved to bin, that the hour was of
the early morning. He had lain unconscous more

'n
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9.9A

A Backwoods Mystery

than five hours. He wound the watch and i
turned it to his pocket. Then he struck another
match, held it high, and gazed inciuiringly around
him. The match was of wax, and lield its flame
for nearly half a minute. He saw a small room,
white and bare of walls, bare of floor, with a
sloping ceiling, broken by the s(iuare of a little
skylight. The only article of furniture in the place
was n narrow couch upon which he sat. A door
of un, tainted spruce divided the wall ai that end
of the room where the ceiling reached its greatest
height.

Harvey P. Banks dropped the but^ of the match
to the floor and rubbed the spark out of it with
his foot. He knew that he was in some one's
attic; and he felt almost equally sure that it was
the attic of Captain Wigmore's house. But who
had hit him over the head and then carried him
up and deposited him in this place? He had his
suspicions, of course. Perhaps the captain had
sandbagged him. The old man might easily have
returned to the house immediately after parting
with him on the road. Or Timothy Fletcher?
Why not Timothy Fletcher? Wigmore had been
lying when he said that Fletcher had run away to
New York. Banks had felt sure of that at the

Mr. Banks Is Stung

2^25

tin.e the statenient was made - and now he elt
doubly sure of it. Very Ukely they had both taken
a hand m the game. Neither one -f them by hun-
self eould have carried Harvey P. Banks up to

the garret.

Mr Banks feh cold and sleepy and sore. 1 he
soreness was of spirit as well as of bndy and head.
He had certainly made a mess of thm-^. And he
felt anxious -decidedly anxious. \Vh.) was to
make the next move? And what was the nex
move to be? He would have paid high to f.nd
himself snug and safe in his own bed in Regmald
Rayton's house. What was Reginald thmkmg.
But he had proved one thing! He had proved,
beyond a doubt, that the inmates of Captam Wig-
more's house were mysterious and undesirable

persons. ,

He lit a cigar, lav back on his hard couch, and
smoked reflectively. His head was not yet steady
enough to allow of action. After an inch or two
of the cigar had turned to ash, he sat up and got
noiselessly to his feet. He had not heard a sound
smce recovering consciousness. Perhaps the house
was empty? He lit a match and tiptoed to the
door. He turned the knob cautiously. The door
was locked.

; !

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^2^2(;

A Backwoods Mystery

1 j^'ucss it's not my turn yt

t." he

nuirniurv."{l

au'

1 went hack U> tlie couch. I tc drew his cap down
alx.ut his cars, fastened his fur coat up to the
chin, and hiy tlat on his hroad hack. I'ut hefore
tlic cii^ar was hnishcd he was on his fed aj,'ain.
lie ht't-d the cuch and phiced it with his head

Tlien he cxtiuLnhshed the hutt

aLTanist

the d

.f tl

11' ciLrar

oor.
kiv d

own. and went to sleep

Mr. r.anks awoke suddenly. Tic was stifT and
cold, hut every sense was on the alert. Mis head
felt inucn hetler than it had hefore his sleep. The
room was full of i,^ray li^ht that hltered down from

in tie roof. He looked
lock. He listened

C SUoW-VCl

led

windo

at Ins w

atch.

ft was seven o t

tentlv. hut could not hear a sounc

I can see well enonj^h now

to take a hand in

So I .^uess it is my turn to

the jT'iiiie," he said,
play."

Tie lifted the cot away from the door and .set
it down at one side without a sound. Then he
raised his ri^ht leg. drew his knee well hack, pre-
sented the heel of hi- hig boot at the lock of the
door, and drove it forward with all the strength
of his great hip and thigh. The lock burst, and
fell in fragments; and the door, having been con-
structed so as to open inward, split, and tore itself

^tr. Banks Is Stun;;

227

from its hinK^es and flapped wide. Thick muscles
had bested thin iron in a single cfTort.

"There!

1111 1 ■ '-'•» . .- — - CT

Confound you!" exclaimed Mr.

Banks, staggering a linle to recover the balance
of his big body. He saw. beyond the gapmg and
twisted door, bv the feeble light from h.s own
room, a dark, bare hall and the unpamted rads
around the top of a narrow staircase. He ad-
vanced one foot across the threshold, stooped for-
ward, and listened intently. His big body, in its
big coat of coonskins. filled the width of the door-
way and shut out much of the feeble iUumu at.on
that descended from the skylight behind and above
him So he st(M.d for a minute or two before he
heard a sound save that of his own breathmg.
And then! What is that? A single, furtive tap.
as of something bard on a thin edge of wood, close
in front of him. He turned sideways on the
threshold so as to let the light from behind h,m
reach the floor in front.

What was that, thin and black, slanting up at
him between the rounds of the railing? It had a
sinister look. It did no^ move. Behind U was
the black gulf of .he stairway. Mr. Banks hesi-
tated for a moment, then began to edge forward.
"Stop where you are!" commanded a voice -

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2^28

A Backwoods Mystery

the voice of old Capta-n Wigniore. " This thing
is the barrel of a rifle. I am behind the rifle. If
I press on the trigger, my dear Banks, I am sure
to hit you somewhere, you are so unnecessarily
large. Tn the belly, most likely. That's right!
Stand still."

"You, Wigmore!" exclaimed the New Yorker.
"What is the meaning of this? What are you
talking about? You must be stark mad!"

The other laughed. Tt was a most discomforting
sound. The laugh of a land crab --if the beast
could laugli — would doubtless resemble Captain
Wigmore's expression of mirth.

" You seem to be indignant, my dear fellow,"
he said, with exasperating calm. " But what do
you expect ? T caught you breaking into my house
when you were under the impression that I was
not at home. Do you think I should have put you
in my own bed, with a hot-water bottle at your
feet, and carried your breakfast up to you this
morning? No, no, my dear Banks! It is my duty
to this country, and to society in general, to keep
a firm hand on you until the officers of the law
relieve me of the charge."

"You old hypocrite!" cried Banks. "You
scheming, lying, old devil ! Bring the officers of the

Mr, Banks Is Stung

229

law! The sooner they get here the better HI be
pleased. I have something to say to them."

Wigmore chuckled. " I haven't sent for them
yet " he said. " I rather enjoy the prospect of
looking after you myself for a httle while. I can
stand it — if you can."

Mr Banks watched the barrel of the rifle out
of the corner of his eye; but the menacing thmg

did not waver.

"Where is Timothy Fletcher?" he asked. ^^

"So that is your bright suspicion, is it?" re-
turned Wigmore cheerfully. "He went to New
York I told you. Where do you thmk he is.

"In this house, you old ape!" cried Banks.

Wigmore hooted.

III

CHAPTER XVI

THE LITTLE CAT AND THE BIG MOUSE

The light was stronger, though still gray and
thin. It was the light of an unsimlit November
(lay filtered through a small square of snowdrifted
glass into a chilly garret. The light alone was
enough to drop a man's heart to the depths; but
It was not the only thing that depressed Harvey
P. Banks. He was anxious, cold, and hungry. He
was sickened with disgust of himself and hate of
Captain Wigmore. His head ached, his neck and
shoulders were sore. To add to all this he could
now see the face and eyes of his jailer by the
cheerless light. The sight was not one calculated
to dispel his anxiety or warm his blood. The eyes
gleamed balefully up from the gloom of the stair-
way, with a green gleam in them '-'-'e the eyes of
a cat watching its helpless prey. In front of the
eyes showed the black barrel of the rifle.

" How long do you intend to keep up this
farce ? " inquired Banks.

230

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The Little Cat and the Big Mouse 231

" I can stand it as long as you can," was the
crisp reply.

" Very likely ; but I don't see that I have any
say in the matter just now."

" You are wrong, my big friend. You can have
your liberty — qualified liberty — this minute if
you wish. All you have to do is swear to mc,
on your honor as a Christian and a gentleman,
that you will never mention this little adventure
to a living person. You must invent some story
for Rayton and set out for New York to-night.
You must drop this feeble idea of yours of play-
ing tlie detective. In short, you must swear to
mind your own business in the future and leave
me and mine alone."

" I'll see you in hell first ! " cried the sportsman.
" I am on your trail, and I'll stick to it. Y<.u'll
pay heavily for this."

Wigmore chuckled. " Pay? " he said. "Pay?
You forget, you big slob, that I am banker in this
game — and I am not the kind of banker that
pays."

" What do you think you are going to do with
me?" asked Banks, with outward calm.

"Lots of things," rcjilicd Wigmore. "I will
reduce your flesh, for one thing; and your fat

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232

A Backwoods Mystery

pride for another. I'll m-ikp .^r.,, u-

^ ^' make you whimper and

crawl round on your knees. But just now I'll re-
quest you to come downstairs. Since you have
bro^^the door of that room. I must ^,ive you^

on'tL-s.'"' ''' °''" '■'°" "■" '"' ^" -P^-ement
^^ Ves. A very comfortable room."
"And what about breakfast?"
" Vou will have a cup of tea in half an hour
•f you behave yourself in tlie meantime."
i^anks laug:hed uncertainly.
" See here, captain, don't you think this joke
has gone far enough?" he asked ^

,^ ''Not at all," replied Wigmore. " My joke has
just begun. Yours ended very ciuick,;,^n H
aul't y? ^'"'"^7— b"t that was'your own
fault You are a blundering joker, Banks. You

u have made sure that I was not at hom

before you went round shaking all the doors and

hen crawled through the window. But that i a

h.n. of the past, now, and so beyond mendi:;

I hope you will derive more entertainment from

'-y joke than you did from your own "

Ranks hpc' no answer to make to that. Tie fasted
his b,g hands and breathed heavily.

THEN ji HAl.TKI) ANH 1<K( dill li, (l,rr(HIN(, AT Tlii COI.D
WALLS I "

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The Little Cat and the Big Mouse 233

" I must ask you now to step back to the farther
wall of your room," said Wigmore.

Banks hesitated for a moment, then backed
across the threshold and across the little room until
his shoulders touched the farther wall.

" Stay there until I give you the word," said
the old man.

Then face and rifle barrel vanished, and. at the
same instant, Banks moved forward nmselesslv and
swiftly, lifted the couch in his strong hands, and
dropped it down the dark well of the staircase.
It crashed and banged against the wooden steps
and the plaster walls; and before its clattering had
ceased the big sportsman himself was halfway
down the stairs. Halfway — and then he halted
and recoiled, clutching at the cold walls! The
couch had been a second too slow in following
Wigmore, and Banks a second too slow in follow-
ing the couch. The captain stood at the bottom
of the stairs, a foot beyond the wreckage of the
couch, laughing sardonically and presenting the
muzzle of the rifle fair at his captive's waist.

" That was a false start," he said. " But I was
expecting it, fortunately."

Banks sat down on a dusty step, trembling vio-
lently. He felt sick — actually sick at his stomach

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234

A Backwoods xMystery

■ j

— with rage, chagrin, and terror of that ready rifle
and the sinister face behind it. The eyes of the
old man were more terrifying than the menacing
black eye of the weapon. The gleam at their
depths was scarcely human.

" Well ? " asked Banks, at last, weakly. He
passed a gloved hand across his forehead. " Well?
What are you g(Mng to do?"

"That depends on you," said the captain. "If
you throw furniture at me every time I turn my
back, I'll be forced to knock you out again and
tie you up. I can't risk being killed by you, for
my life is valuable."

" Do you intend to hit me again with the sand-
bag? " asked the New Yorker thickly.

" No, I don't mean to take that risk again,"
replied the other. " Another crack like that might
kill you — and f don't want to kill you just yet,
unless I have to. Perhaps T won't kill you at all,
my dear fellow. I may — of course; but I don't
think so at the moment. T am whimsical, however

— a man of quick and ''r.numcrablc moods. How-
ever, I do not expect to thump you again with the
sandbat:^. T lia\c tliis riflr — for serious work —
and this qnr i-looking little pistol for the joking.
It is a chemical pistol — quite a new invention. I

The Little Cat and the Big Mouse 235

have tested it, and found it to be all the manufac-
turers claim for it. Don't move ! You can see and
hear perfectly well where you are! If I discharge
it in your face, at a range of twenty feet, or under,
it will stun you. and leave you stunned for an hour
or more, without tearing the flesh or breaking any
bones. The thing that hits you is gas — I forget
just what kind. It is pretty potent, anyway — and
I don't suppose you arc particular as to what va-
riety of gas you arc shot with. It is a fine inven-
tion, and works like a charm. I am quite eager
to test it again."

"Don't! Don't! Great heavens, man, have you
gone mad?" cried Mr. Banks.

Old Wigmore raised the odd, sinister-looking
pistol in his left hand.

" I don't think it hurts very much," he said.
'" Feels like being smothered, I believe. Of course
the shock may be quite severe at such close range
as this."

Banks closed his eyes. He was less of a cow-
ard than most men; but to sit there on the
narrow stairs, chilled and iielpless, and wait for
the discharge of an unknown weapon in his
face was more than courage and nerves could
stand.

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23G

A Backwoods Mystery

" Shoot ! " he screamed. " Shoot, and be done
with it!"

He cut a queer figure, humped there bulkily, in
his great fur coat, with the fur cap pulled low
about his ears, his eyes shut tight, and his big face
colorless with fatigue and apprehension — a queer,
pathetic, tragic figure. He waited for the explo-
sion, every sense and every nerve stretched till his
very skin ached. His mind was in a whirl. The
thumping of his heart sounded in his ears like
the roaring and pounding of surf.

"Shoot! Shoot!" he whispered, with dry lips
and leathern tongue.

And still he waited — waited. At last he could
bear the strain no longer. He uttered a harsh cry,
stumbled to his ' et, and opened his eyes, leaning
one shoulder hea/ily against a wall of the stair-
case. A gasp of relief escaped him. Wigmore
had retreated, and now stood several yards away
from the bottom step. The muzzle of the rifle was
still toward his victim, but his left hand, gripping
that terrible, mysterious, little weapon, was lowered
to his side. He chuckled. His face looked like
that of a very old, very unhuman, and very goatish
satyr.

" Wipe your eyes, my dear Banks," he said. " I

The Little Cat and the Big Mouse 237

won't Jnirt you, yoti poor little thing. Dry your
eyes, and come down the rest of the way. I'll
stand here, at the head of these stairs, while }ou
tcjddle into that room. Then I'll lock the door,
which is very strong, and get you your cup of
tea. Come along! Come along' I haven't the
heart "^o hur: such a white-livered whimperer."

For I moment ho big sportsman glared at him,
contemplating ,i mad rtish. at the risk of a bullet
through hi'; breast — but only for a moment.
-Something in the old man's kcr told him that the
finger on the trigger would not hesitate, the mu7.zle
would not waver. To attack now would b suicide.
He realized that he was at the mercy of a madman.

" I'm coming. I'll be mightly glad of the tea,"
he -aid, with a painful attempt at a smile.

He made his way faltcringly to the bottoi^^ of
the steps, across the hall, an 1 into the room indi-
cated by the old man. All ih. fight and all the
strength had gone out of him — for he time being,
at least. The terrible play on the stairs had taken
more stamina out of him than a day's march
through a tangled wilderness, with a seventy-pound
pack on his shoulders. He staggered to the bed.
and sat down dizzily on the edge of it. Old Wig-
more stood on the threshold, leering.

* M

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238

A Backwoods Mystery

" I hope you like the room," he said. " it

most of the night in fixing it up fur you

" Thanks. It looks fine," replied Bank. .And
it really was fine, he iioticed, gazing around with
reviving hope. There was a window — a real win-
dow — in the wall. lie could soon attract atten-
tion from that window, or let himself out of it
by a rope made of bedclothes. He had read of
that dodge a dozen times. The old fellow was mad
certainly; but there did not seem to be much
method in his madness, after all. Banks turned his
face away so as to hide a wan smile.

" Sit where you arc, my boy. and I'll bring your
tea in a minute." said the old man.

Then he stepped back and closed the door.
Banks continued to sit on the bed and gaze around
the room, uncertain whether to go to the window
now or wait until Wigmore had brought the tea
and again retired He did not want to bungle
things by being in too great a hurry. With a little
patience and cunning on his part, his mad old
jailer would soon be in his power. He decided
to wait where he was. The bed was soft, and he
was woefully tired. He turned sideways, threw
his fc'C't up. and sanlc head and shoulders back
upon the tempting pillows.

The Little Cat and the Big Mouse 239

With a sharp chck, followed i)y a soft tluul, the
middle of tliu bed sank to the IIdoi", and the 1ml-
yiii- sides folded iiuvanl upon the astonished Mi",
r.anks. He s'lonted and strn^';j;led ; but his liead
was lower than his heels, and his arms were pinned
firmly a^'ainst his sides. At last he twisted over
until he lay on his left shoulder, and his right arm
was clear. In another minute he would have been
oi.c of the ridiculous trap; hut suddenly Captain
U'igmore appeared, slipped a rope around the im-
bedded ankles, and bound them tight; and another
around the free arm, and made it fast to the head
of the bed. Then the old man stood and leered
down at him.

" \'ou are a terrible fellow for smashing urni-
ture," he said. " You have a very violent temper.
Out you come! Out you come!"

With incredible strength, the old man gripped
the big, floundering sportsman, and yanked him
from the bed, where he lay helpless, with hir feet
tied together, and his right wrist fast to the bed.

"There you are!" remarked VVigmore briskly.
" Now, will you be good ? Sit up, while I fix the
bed. Sit up, do you hear? Then I'll give you
your breakfast. You don't deserve it — but I have»
a tender heart."

2K)

A Backwoods Mystery

lie prodded l^anks with the toe of liis boot.
Banks sat up without a word. His rage clouded
his mind and deadened his tongue. Wigniore
dragged the heavy bedding to the iloor, and gazed
with admiratior. at the bedstead. All the slats, save
a few at the foot, were hinged in the middle.

" My own invention," said the old man. " Very
ingenious, don't you think? But it has done its
work, so let it lie. Here are some blankets for
you, Banks. Hope you don't object to sleeping on
the floor."

He tossed an armful of blankets into his pris-
oner's lap, and walked briskly from the room. He
was back in half a minute, carrying a tray, which
he placed on the floor within reach of Bank's free
hand.

" Help yourself," he said. Then he went out,
shutting the door behind him.

Mr. Banks sat motionless for a full minute,
staring at the tray. A small teapot stood there,
with steam rising from its spout. It was flanked
on the right by a small jug of cream, and on the
left by an empty cup. In front squatted a round
dish under a cover. "At last Banks pulled off his
fur cap, and wiped the cold perspiration frc
brow with the palm of a grimy hand.

The Little Cat tnd the Big Mouse 241

" I suppose the old devil has doped it," he whis-
pered, with a sigh. "Of course he has! What's
the good of supposing?"

With an effort, he turned his face away from
the teapot and the covered dish. He shifted back
a little, so that the rope did not pull on his riglit
arm. He gazed int^tntly at the window, door,
walls, and ceiling.

" I must plan a way to get out," he muttered.
" I must plan a way to fool this old fiend."

But he could not concentrate his thoughts, for
most of them were with his heart — yearning to-
ward the teapot and the covered d'sh. At last he
gave way, and allowed his gaze to rest again upon
the silent tempters. His left hard went out to
them, then came slowly back. He sighed, un-
fastened his coonskin coat, and cursed old Wig-
more huskily, but heartily. Again the hand
advanced. He lifted the teapot and poured
some of the steaming amber liquid into the
cup.

" It looks all right," he murmured. " But what's
the use of looking at it? Of course the old beast
has doped it! Heaven nelp him when I get held
of him!"

He set ihe teapot down, and groaned. He told

242

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A Backwoods Mystery

himself to turn away; to forget the craving in
his stomach; that he was not really hungry. He
assured himself that it is beneficial to go without
food now and then — for a day, or even for two
days. Then he remembered having read some-
where that smoking allays the gnawing of hunger.
He produced a cigar from the case in his pocket,
and lit it fumljlingly. While lie smoked he kept
his eyes fixed upon the tray. Suddenly he leaned
forward and lifted the cover from the dish.

"Buttered toast!" he exclaimed, in so tragic a
voice that the sound of it brought a smile to his
dry lips. He replaced the cover with such violence
as to crack the dish. After smoking gloomily for
another minute or two, he again allowed his atten-
tions to d»vell upon the tea, toast, and cream. He
lifted the half-filled cup and snifiFed it. Did he
detect a bitterness in the clean, faint fragrance of
it, or was the bitterness only in his imagination?
He tilted the cup this way and that, searching the
clear liquid for some cloudy sign of danger. He
was unsuccessful. He sniffed it again, and this
time could not detect the least suggestion of bit-
terness.

" T am a fool ! " he muttered. " My nerves have
gone to pieces! "

With a quick hand, he slopped a httle of the
cream into tlie tea, and raised the cup swiftly to
his lips. But he did not part his lips. For a mo-
ment he sat motionless, with the cup raised and
tilted — and then, with an oath, he replaced it on
the tray, untasted. The momentrry gratification of
thirst and hunger was not worth the risk. He
turned his back upon the tray, and puffed away
resolutely at his cigar. He would show the old
devil tn^i ht was not entirely a fool!

Banks finished the cigar; and still old Wigmore
had not returned. The tray still remained on the
floor. Banks hitched himself to the head of the
bed, and set to work with his left hand to unfasten
the knots in the rope which bound him to that
cursed, ingenious bedstead. The rope was small,
and the knots were hard; but at last the outer
knot began to loosen. He paused frequently in
his work to glance over his shoulder at the door,
and to hearken intently. At last he was free from
the bed, but with the length of line still hanging
from his wrist. Now he crawled across the room
to the door, stood up on his bound feet, and tried
iiie handle. The door was locked, as he had ex-
pected. Seated with his broad back against it,
he worried the cord at his ankles with both hands

244

A Backwoods Mystery

until its three stubborn knots were undone. Then,
moving on tiptoe, he carried the heavy bedstead
across the room, and stood it solidly against the
door.

8 air

It 1

CHAPTER XVli

AN STONISHING DISCOVERY

"'he r om was not elaborately furnished, but
every piece v ^s good of its kind. Mr. Banks
worked busily, moving about stealthily on the toes
of h's great boots. He had shed his coat, by this
time, an( rid his right arm of the dangling length
of rope. Atop the hinged slats of the bed he placed
a substantial chest of drawers, thus reenforcing the
barricade and squaring himself with the ingenious
slats by one and the same move,

" It will take a bigger man than Wigmore to
get in at me now," murmured the sportsman.

He was tremendously pleased with his job, but
did not waste much time in admiring it. Now that
he was secure from interruption for a while, at
least, was the time to develop the possibilities of
the window. He would try to attract the attention
of some passer-by. H there did not happen to be
any passer-by, which was frequently the case, in
Samson's Mill Settlement, lur hours at a time —

245

2K)

A Backwoods Mystery

Uii'l

< !

then he would join the pieces uf :ope with which
he had been bound, lengthen the result with a blan-
ket, and lower himself int(j the free outside world.
OUl Wigniorc might shoot at him through the
p.incls of the d(jor, but he was more than willing
U> lake the risk of being hit by such blind shooting.
( )iice outside, he felt that he would be safe. Not
c\en the mad captain was mad enough to murder
liim in open sight of the road and fields. These
reOections occupied his mind during the seconds
m which he turned from his contemplation of the
barricade. He made one step toward the window,
and then

"Halt!" exclaimed the voice of Captain Wig-
more, shrill, clear and menacing. Banks ha'ted,
with a gasp, and turned his face toward the hate-
ful sound. To his dismay, he beheld the devilish
face of the old man leering horribly within seven
feet of him, through a square and unsuspected
aperture in the door. With a low cry of defiance
and nervous fright, he tried to set his limbs in
motion again. Would his feet never move? He
seemed to pass through a v^hole minute of terrific
but futile exertion. It was like a grotesque night-
mare of childhood days — grotesque, but horrible.
Pie -saw the old man's hand appear beside the leer-

An Astonishing Discovery 247

ing face. In the hand was that queerly shaped
pistol. And still his feet clung to the floor as
if they were lead! A dull, feeble, popping report
came to his aching cars. And then something
gripped his windpipe with huge, hard fingers; some
one struck him to earth with a gigantic halloon ; a
blank wave curled about him, fell uptm him,
pounded the life from his battling lungs, and
dragged him, limp and dead, to the unsounded
depths.

Captain Wigmore had discharged his chemical
pistol in the big sportsman's face. That is all. He
had slipped the panel, cried halt, raised his hand,
and pulled the trigger, all within two seconds of
time.

When Mr. "Ranks recovered consciousness for the
second time since crawling into Wigmore's house,
he felt triuch worse than he had on the first oc-
casion. He felt very, very sick at the very pit
of his stomach. His poor head was in a terrible
way. At one moment his brains seemed to be
floating far above him, light and thin as smoke,
and at the ne.xt they lay heavily, but loosely, in
his sore skull, like a fragment of iron, sliding from
side to side. He lay il.i!, and groaned. Half an
hour passed before he ventured to sit up and open

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248

A Backwoods Mystery

his eyes. Absolute darkness surrounded him. He
felt about with his hands, and found that he was
lying on a folded blanket. He inquired further,
and discovered that his new lodging was nothing
but a tiny closet, about seven feet deep, and four
feet wide, with a steeply sloping roof. The roof
was made of a series of sharp-cornered humps.
He bumped his head against one of them — and
that enlightened him. He was in a closet under
a staircase. His fur coat had been left in the
bedroom; but, fortunately, the closet was not very
cold. After another and briefer rest upon the flat
of his back, he decided to try a smoke. He thrust
a hand slowly into one pocket, less slowly into an-
other, then swiftly and desperately into pocket after
pocket. All were empty ! Not so much as a match
had been left to him; not so much as a crumb
of tobacco.

The rage which this discovery inspired in the
breast of Mr. Banks was c .!; of all proportion
to the seriousness of his loss. Ine effect upon him
was stupendous. Sandbagging, binding, and pistol-
ing had all failed to lift him to such a height of
resentment at this. Why, even he could not have
explained. His big boots were left to him — and
his voice, such as it was. He began to shout and

An Astonishing Discovery

^^o

stamp his feet on the floor. His voice hmljered
up, and grew in strength, until the dry-tongued cry
became a gigantic bellow. The feet pounded up
and down until they encountered the door; and
then they began to swing back and forth. The
door winced and shook at every blow. It was a
strong door, however, hung on massive hinges,
fastened with a big lock, and barred in three places
with rods of iron. W'igmorc had taken no chances
with this door. He had fixed things this time so
that his prisoner was put to stay. That was his
idea, anyway.

At last, reeling and breathless from his exertions,
Banks sank to the floor, and lay still and silent.
For a little while his head span sickeningly, and his
mind and senses lay torpid; but only for a little
while. This outbreak had done him good — had re-
vived him to the finger tips. He sat up presently
and listened for the approach of his enemy. Surely
all that bellowing and thumping would bring him.

" If he opens that door, pistol or no pistol, it'll
be the end of him," remarked the New Yorker.
And he meant it. He was ready for murder. He
raiotd himself to his knees, ascertained the position
of the door with his hand, and faced it, waiting
in savage expectancy.

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250

A Backwoods Mystery

:if ..•

At last his straining ears caught a sound. It
was a very faint sound, and it came from the left
instead of from the door. It was repeated — a
faint, furtive tapping, like the tapi)ing of a Hipped
finger against plaster. lie moved cautiously toward
the sound. It came again. lie put out his hantl,
and touched the rough lath and plaster of the
wall. How frail the barrier felt! He stood up
very cautiously. " It may be a mouse — and it
may be Wigmorc — but it is wwrth trying," he
whispered. Then he swung his right foot back-
ward slowly, and brought it forward with all the
force that lay in that long and muscular shank.
A sound of cracking plaster and splintered laths
rewarded and encouraged him. He steadied him-
self, with one hand on the door and one on the
slope of the staircase, and settled down to kick-
ing. His boot was thick, his leg strong, and his
heart in the job. Things cracked and smashed and
splintered. At last he knelt and advanced an in-
quiring hand. The blackness was full of the dust
of powdered plaster. He found a ragged-edged
break in the wall, and thrust his hand into it.

Mr. Ranks snatched his hand back to his own
side of the pierced partition, at the same time ut-
tering a sharp cry of dismay. Ncthinq" had hurt

An Astonishiiii; Discovery 2.51

him; hut in the hh-ickiicss hcyoinl Ins (»\vii narrow
hlackiicss his rini;cT> hail cncDUiitcrcil tk-sh — tlie
Iksh of a human nose and cyihrow. lie sagged
hack on liis haunches, hmp and tremhhii}^. What-
ever he had expected to lind, this was not it.

"Who is therei? Si)eak ! W lio is there?" he
whispered.

No voice answered him; hut again he heard tliat
thin rapping, like the Hipping of a finger against
a liard, dry surface. It was a trifle louder this
time, but in exactly the same position.

"Can't you speak? Speak, for Heaven's sake! "

cried Banks.

This time he was answered by a low, muffled,
strangled groan. He searched his pockets again,
with shaking fmgers; and, at last, in a little roll
of woolen dust in the corner of his match pocket,
he found one wax match. This first seemed such
a great and joyful thing to him that he had diffi-
culty in restraining his laughter.

" Wigmore, you old devil, nere's where I have
you at last! " he exclaimed. " You're a fool! You
should have picked my pockets thoroughly while
you were about it. This little match will prove your
undoing — as sure as my name is Harvey P.
Banks!"

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A Backwoods Mystery

He began to chuckle — and the s- > nd of his
chuckling quieted and steadied him in a Hash.
"That won't do," he said. "That sounds down-
right idiotic. I must keep a grip on myself."

With his left hand he found a safe and suitable
spot on the wall for the striking of the precious
match; and then, with his trembling right hand,
he struck it. The little flame hissed into existence,
then caught t!ie wax, and burned clear and quiet.
He crouched low, and thrust the burning match
through the hole in the lath and plaster, and into
the chamber beyond, by the length of his arm. The
hole was about three feet long and twelve or fifteen
inches wide. He shuffled forward and thrust his
head between the jaws of ragged plaster and
splintered laths.

The match lit a closet even smaller than the one
in which Banks lay. Banks beheld rough walls, a
sloping roof, a door, and. directly under his hand,
a small Iniman figure, botmd and gagged.

"Timothy Fletcher!" he exclaimed. " So this
is New York — for you ! "

The old man's bright eyes blinked like an owl's.
He lay close against the wall, and now Banks saw
one finger — one free finger — dart out and tap
the plaster.

An Astonishing Discovery

253

" Roll away from the hole," said Banks. Then
the match scorched him, and he withdrew his hand
and head. He sat back for a second or two, con-
sidering the situation.

"The old fiend!" he muttered. "He must be
mad — or the devil himself. This explains the
other thing that happened to poor Fletcher — the
attack in the woods. Oh, the cunning old beast ! "

Now he set to work with his hands, tearing
away the light materials of the wall in strips and
lumps. He put his hand through, found that
Fletcher had rolled away, and then wriggled
through himself. It was a tight passage, but at
last it was safely accomplished. To remove the
gag from Fletcher's stiff jaws was the work of a
few seconds. To untie and unwind the complicated
knots and cords that bound the old fellow's body
and limbs took fully half an hour. During that
time, Fletcher did not say one word.

For a little while after the freeing of Timothy
Fletcher, Banks sagged weakly against the floor.
His head was spinning again. He closed his eyes
against the blackness, and began to drift off into a
delightful, restful dream. He was all done — all
in — down and out ! What was the good of worry-
ing? What was the good of anything? He had

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2.54

A Backwoods Mystery

escaped from his cell. He had found Fletcher and
set him free. He had earned his rest.

Timothy Fletcher dragged himself over to where
Mr. Banks sagged against the door like a big, half-
empty sack. Having spent half an h(mr in moving
his tongue up and down, and round and round in
his mouth, he now found himself in possession of
a fragment of voice. Also, the blood was beginning
to move in his arms and lers again. His mind
was as clear as glass. He fastened his thin fingers
in his rescuer's collar, and shook that careless head
until it flopped and knocked against the door.

" Wake up! " he croaked. " Wake up! We got
to get out of here."

Banks opened his eyes, and, in the dark, grabbed
Fletcher with his big hands. For a moment he
mistook the servant for the master, and, with a
sudden, furious surge of strength, he shook him as
a terrier shakes a rat. Fletcher yelled, and clawed
the sportsman in the face. Then Banks realized
what he was doing.

" Sorry," he gasped. " I was half asleep. How
are we to get out? "

Fletcher did not answer immediately, but lay
panting in the dust. At last he raised himself to
his hands and knees. " This door," he whispered.

An Astonishing Discovery

:oi)

" It is locked — that is all. You are strong,
must get out! Quick! Smash it!"

Mr. Banks got to his feet, and found the position
(if the door. He moved slowly. He laughed
softly.

"Stand out of the way — out of the danger
zone," he cautioned. " I'm going to kick. I can
kick like an army mule."

"Kick! Kick!" croaked Timothy Fletcher,
crouching off to one side. " There's drink down-
stairs. Food an' drink."

Banks balanced himself, lifted his right knee
high against his waistcoat, and shot forward his
right heel. With a rending of wood and ripping
of dislodged screws, the door flew open, letting
a flood of faint moonlight into the black closet.
Banks staggered forward, fell flat on the floor out-
side, then nipped to his feet again as nimble as
a cat. Weariness and sickness were forgotten. lie
felt superior to anything old Wigmore might try
to do.

Fletcher staggered up, and reeled against the
New Yorker.

" He'll shoot — if he's home," he gabbled. " Get
hold of a chair — to let fly at him. Kill him if
you see him! He's mad! Kill him like a rat!"

256

A Backwoods Mystery

" You bet," replied Banks. " If I see him — then
God pity him ! Ah ! "

He saw a heavy chair standing by the moonht
window. He ran forward, seized it by the back,
and hfted it. He whirled it around his head. He
felt strong enough to annihilate a score of maniacs.

" This will do. Come on," he whispered.

They went down a flijr'^t of heavily carpeted
stairs to the lower hall. The winter moonshine
lit the place faintly. Banks went ahead, with the
big chair ready in front of him, and poor old
Timothy crawling at his heels. The house was quiet
as death. They reached the hall. Banks' anxious
eye caught sight of the shadow of a curtain at
the door of the dining room. The big chair hurtled
through the air, and burst against the casing of
the door.

"My mistake!" he cried, and the next moment
had armed himself with another chair. They en-
tered the dining room, found it empty, and closed
and fastened the door. They rifled the sideboard
of apples, soda biscuits, bread, butter, and a half
bottle of sherry. Timothy Fletcher wet his insides
with a dozen great gulps of the wine, direct from
the bottle, and then crammed fragments of dry
bread into his mouth.

An Astonishing Discovery 257

" Go easy," cautioned Banks, between mouthfuls.
" Dangerous. Chew your food."

At last he got possession of the bottle. The
wonder is that the meal did not kill them. As
it was, Timothy Metcher lay down on the carpet,
and swore that he would not move another step
until he was dashed well ready, and felt a good
deal better. Mr. Banks became indignant.

" I save your life, and then you go and eat your-
self to death ! " he cried. " It's enough to make
any one angry. If you don't get up and come
along out of this cursed house, I'll go without
you."

Timothy rolled and twisted on the carpet.

" Don't," he whined, changing his tune. " I feel
terrible bad, Mr. Banks. Don't leave me. He may
come home soon. What time is it? "

Banks had forgotten that such a thing as time
existed. He heard a clock ticking, tracked it to
the chimneypiece, and carried it to the window.
The moonlight was strong enough to read the
hands by.

" Half-past nine," he said. " Half-past nine at
night, of course — but of what night? Can it be
only twenty-four hours since I crawled into this
infernal house through a back window? I can't

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A Backwoods Mystery

believe it! I've been sandbagged, and shot, and
starved! Twenty-four hours!"

" I got an awful cramp," groaned Fletcher. " Get
me some wliisky! (Juick! Cupboard in the C(jr-
ncr.

" I told you not to make a pig of yourself," said
Danks. But he found the cupboard, brought the
whisky, and held the decanter to the old man's
lil)s. He soon withdrew it, in spite of the other's
expostulations.

"Half-past nine," he said. "Do you get that?
When does Wigmore usually come home? "

"When do he come home?" repeated Timothy.
" Rlast him! Just when you don't e.xpcct him!
That's when he comes home. After nine, you say?
Then lie must be out for the evening. We'd bet-
ter go — soon. Let's have another drop of that
whisky first."

" No more whisky for you. TTow are the
cramps ;

" Bad ! Bad ! The soda crackers lay on my
insides like bits of flin^ I was near gone, Mr.
Banks. He left me days and days without bite
nor sup — may hell's flames scorch him ! "

" But we must get away ! He may be back at
any moment. Once outside the house, we're safe."

An Astonishing Discovery

250

We'd soon

*' He has that pistol in his pocket,
be back again, if he met us."

" Rot! " exclaimed Banks. " Come along! Buck

up!

" Can't do it, sir. Not just now — anyhow. I
feel that had — I'd like to die."

The New Yorker relented, knelt beside him, and
let him drink a little more of the whisky.

" Now, lie quiet until you feel better," he said.
"I'll keep a watch out for Wigmore — and if I
see him coming, Fll meet him at the door — with
a chair. But you let me know as soon as you feel
fit to move."

He took his stand at a window beside the front
door. The night was almost as bright as day, and
he could see clearly for hundreds of yards up the
white road. So he stood for fifteen minutes, and
nobody came in sight.

" Never before in all my life did I put in such
a day as this," he reflected.

Then he heard Timothy's husky voice.

" I feel a mite better now. Maybe we'd best get
out, Mr. Banks."

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CHAPTER XVIII

DICK GOODINE RETURNS UNEXPECTEDLY

To hark back! After Mr. Banks' departure on
his secret mission, Reginald Rayton cHmbed out
of bed and dressed himself as well as he could.
As it was hopeless to attempt a coat, he folded
several blankets about his shoulders, the red one
outside. Then he went down to the sitting room,
where a good fire was burning, and shouted for
his new stableboy. Bill Long entered from the
kitchen and sat down, when requested, on the outer
edge of an armchair. He answered a dozen ques-
tions concerning the horses and cattle fluently; but
when his employer asked him 'suddenly if he knew
of any one who held a grudge against him —
Rayton — the youth rubbed one gray-socked foot
across the other and scratched the back of his head
uneasily.

"You will be helping me out if you $ay what
you think, Bill," encouraged Rayton.

" Well," replied Bill, " they do say as how you
an' Doc Nash ain't any too friendly."

260

Dick Goodinc Returns

261

*' That was nothing, Bill. Just a fit of bad
temper. We are on very good terms now. Who
el<% d'you think? "

" There's Uavy Marsli. He's got a mighty sore
head. I hear him talkin' pretty wicked about ye,
one day."

" But he don't mean it, you may be sure. It
was just his trouble made him talk like that. He
and 1 are on a \cry friendly footing. lie has
nothing to l>e sore at me about."

" I guess he thinks he has, Mr. Ray ton. You've
cut him out — or he thinks so. But he weren't
never in to be cut out."

" Oh, come now. Bill! I don't think you should
talk that v^ay about Marsh. He means well enough.
Who else?"

" Well, Mr. Rayton, what about old Cap'n
Wigmore? He be mighty sweet on Miss Nell
Harley — an' he's an all-fired wicked-lookin' old
cuss. I guess if you knowed his heart you'd find
him yer enemy."

Rayton laughed. " Poor old chap! I am sorry
for him. But come now. Bill, you are not seri-
ous? "

" Yep. He be soft as mush on that girl. Father,
he says so, too — an' so does ma."

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A Hackwoocis Mvstcrv

" lUit yon don't tliink he'd shoot mo, do you?"

"(Jncss he winild — if he ^'ot a good chance.
Guess lie'd as hef kill a feller as eat iiis sui)[)er —
judf^in' liy the looks of him. Tell you what, Mr.
Uayton, if I was you I wcnildu't trust that old
gent no farther'ii 1 could chuck him over my
shoulder. He's got a bad eye, he has, jist like
Jim Wiggins' (jld hoss had — an' it ended by chaw-
in' off two of his fingers when he wasn't lookin'."

"Whose fingers. Bill?"

" Jim's, in course."

"Oh! Of course. But, sec here, Bill; you
surely don't think old Captain Wigmore shot me
in the shoulder? "

"That's what I think, Mr. Rayton. It be jist
the kinder skunk trick he'd do. I've watched him,
many's the time — when he didn't know it. He
talks to himself — an' sometimes he laughs, an'
dancos 'round on his toes. That's gospel, Mr.
Rayton. An' he makes faces — lor' ! I'll bet ye
a dollar, Mr. Rayton, that 'twas him shot you.
He's bin a pirate. I guess — an' 'u'd jist as soon
kill a man as Jac'c Swim 'u'd kill a pig. He's got
a anchor thing inked in on his arm, anyhow — all
red an' blue. I seen it one day when he didn't
know I was lookin'."

Dick Goodinc Return*;

265

" Vou seem to be greatly inti-rested in him, Bill.
You seem to have watched him preiiy tlos(.ly."

" That's right, l-'irst time I seen him and heard
his name was Cap'n Wigmore, I began to spy on
him. He brought to my mind some other cap's
I've read about — Cap'n Kidd, an' Cap'n Mint.
Yes, Mr. Kayton, I've watched him, you bet —
'cept when he was lookin' at me. I'd jist as lief
have a b'ar look at me as that old cuss!"

" For all that." replied Rayton, smiling, " I don't
think Captain Wigmore is the man who shot me.
He has an uncertain temper, I know, but I don't
believe he would try to kill a man in cold blood.
I can't think of any one who would try, deliberately,
to kill me. It must have been an accident. Bill.
That's what I think, anyway."

" Accident nothin'," returned Bill. " Pirates kill
folks, don't they? You bet they do! Mr. Banks
ain't .so soft as you, Mr. Rayton. He's nosin'
round, I kin see that. I'll bet he's spyin' on Cap'n
Wigmore this very minute. Smart gent, Mr.
Banks. Most Yanks be smarter nor Englishmen,
anyhow, I guess."

Rayton's laughter was interrupted by Turk. The
dog jumped up from ilie rug before the fire, stood
for a moment, then ran into the kitchen, with his

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204

A Backwoods Mystery

plume waving. The kitchen door opened and
closed, Turk yelped a welcome, and next moment
Dick Goodine entered the sitting room. The
trapper carried his snovvshoes under one arm and
his blanket-cased rifle under the other.

" You, Dick ! " exclaimed Rayton. " Has any-
diing gone wrong? What's brought you back, old
chap? "

Vqz, it's me," answered the trapper, with an
uneasy laugh. " Didn't make much of a start, did
I? But nothing's gone wrong. I made camp
twenty miles out, on Dorker Cr'^k — an' then I
lit out on the back trail — just to tell you some-
thing that's on my mind."

He leaned in the doorway, smili. ^' at the English-
man and swinging his fur cap in his hand. Snow-
shoes and rifle lay on the floor. Rayton gazed
at him with a puzzled shadow in his clear, kindly
eyes.

"Why, Dick, that's too bad," he said. "But
pull off your togs and get something to eat — and
then let me hear what you have on your mind. If
I can help you, I'll do it. If it's money for more
traps, I'm your man. Dick."

" It isn't money," said the trapper quietly. He
threw off his mittens and outer coat, and drew

Dick Goodine Returns

265

a chair close to Rayton. " It is something
pretty private," he said, " and important. It
brought me all the way out of the woods, to see

you.

Rayton was more deeply puzzled than ever, and
a sharp anxiety awoke in him. Had this fate that
had struck others also struck Dick Goodine? He
inspected his friend anxiously, and was relieved to
find that he had suffered no physical injury, at any

rate.

" Bill," he said, " skip out and make a pot of
coffee, there's a good chap. Shut the door after

you."

Bill Long obeyed with dragging feet. He took
hah a minute to cross the threshold and shut the

door.

" Now, Dick, fire away," said Rayton. " Get it
off your chest. I'm your man, whatever your

trouble may be."

The trapper leaned forward. Though his lips
smiled, there were tears in his dark eyes.

"Is the shoulder gettin' along all right?" he
asked huskily. " And the cold ? How's it, Reg-
inald? "

Rayton laughed with a note of astonishment and
relief. " Did you come all the way out to ask

20G

A Backwoods Mystery

about my shoulder and my cold? " he cried. " Well,
you are a considerate chap, I must say! But it
was foulish of you, Dick. I'm right as wheat; but
it is mighty good of you to feel so anxious, my
dear old chap — and you may be sure I'll never
forget it."

Still the trapper smiled, and still the moisture
gleamed in his dark eyes.

"I — I felt anxious — oh, yes," he said slowly.
" I couldn't think o' nothin' else all the time I was
trailin' along through the woods an' all last night
in camp. That's right. So I just up an' lit out
to tell you — to *:ell you the truth. I was a fool
an' a coward not to tell it before. I'm the man
who shot you ! "

"What.?" cried Rayton, staring. "You? For
TTeaven's sake, Dick, don't be a fool! Have you
been hitting the jug again?"

" It's the truth," said the trapper quietly. " I
shot you — an' I was scart to own up to it. I
didn't know it was you until — until I guessed
it. I thought I lind come pretty near hittin' some-
body — but not you. T didn't know who. I heard
llie yells — an' they sounded strong enough. I'll
t'.ll vou ju^l how it was, Reginald."

lie paused, hnatliing ([uickly, and brushed his

Dick Goodine Returns

^i()7

hand across his face. Rayton went to the door
and turned the key.

" Buck up, Dick," he said. " If you shot me
— well, that's all right. No harm done; but tell
me all about it if it will make you feel any belter."
" It was this way," begap the trapper. " 1 was
trailin' 'round, lookin' l.-r a buck deer or anythiu-
that might happen al..ng — and after a while I
seen what I took to be the neck an' shoulders of
a buck. The light was bad, you know. The thmg
moved a Hale. I was sure I could see its horns.
So I let fly. Down he went — an' then I heard
the durndest hollerin' an' cussin' — an' I knew I'd
made a mistake. But the cussin' was that strong I
thought I'd missed. I cal'lated the best thing I
could do was just to get away (piietly an' keep
my mouth shut; and just then came a bang like
a cannon an' half a peck of pa'tridge shot peppered
the bushes all round me. Then I was more'n sure
[ didn't hit the man. w^hoever he was, so I just
lii out fer home, runnin" as cpdet as I could.

" I got home all right, thinkin' it was all a mighty
good joke on me, an' turned in soon after supper.
But I couldn't get to sleep. I began to wonder
if I'd missed the mark, after all. The light was
bad, of course; but I don't often miss a shot like

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^208

A Backwoods Mystery

that at two hundred yards. I commenced workin'
it out in my mind, an' thinkin" it over an' over every
way.

" Moose an' caribou, an' even deer, run miles
with these here ..ickled bullets in them — aye, an'
right through 'em; an' I've read about soldiers
fightin' for five or ten minutes after they was hit.
Then why shouldn't the man I fired at by mistake
holler an' cuss an' let fly at me, even if he was
plugged? That's the way I figgered it out — an'
pretty soon I began to think I had hit him.

" I couldn't get it out of my head. I saw him
layin' out on the ground, maybe bleedin' to death.
I reckoned the thing to do was hike over an' tell
you an' Mr. Banks about it an' see what you thought
of it. So, after studyin' on it a while longer, I
got up an' dressed an' sneaked out of the house.
When I got to your house there was a light in
the settin'-room window. That scart me, for it
was past two o'clock in the mornin' — pretty near
three. I let myself in, quiet; an' there was Mr.
Banks in the things he goes to bed in — the cotton
pants an' little cotton jumpers — asleep in his chair
by the settin'-room fire. That gave me another
scare. T woke him up. He jumped like I'd stuck
a pin into him.

Dick Goodinc Returns

2G9

'"Hullo, Dick/ says he. 'I thought it was
Reginald. Where is Reginald, anyhow?"

"'Well, where is he?' says I, feehn' kinder
faint in my stomach. ' Maybe he's gone to bed.
It's three o'clock, anyhow.'

" Then he told me as how you an' him had gone
out gunnin' together that mornin,' an' how you
hadn't come home yet. Then I felt pretty sick;
an' I up an' told him what I was afeared of —
but I was too scart and rattled to tell him all I
knew about it. It was only guessin', anyhow —
though I felt as certain I'd shot yt)U as if I'd seen
myself do it. I made up a bit of a yarn for him,
" I told him as how I was in tlic woods when,
about sundown, I heard a riHe shot, an' then a lot
of hollerin', an' then a gun shot. I told him what
I thought — that maybe somebody had plugged
somebody — and how that somebody might be yon.
Well, he fired a few questions at me, an' then he
grabs the lamp an' hits the trail for upstairs. In-
side ten minutes he's down again; an' we get lan-
terns an' brandy an' blankets, an' out we start.
It took us a long time to find you — but we did
— thank God !

"That's the truth of it, Reginald; an' I couldn't
rest easy till you knew of it — an' until I'd had

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270

A Backwoods ^Mystery

another look at you. What with all the queer
things goin' on 'round here of late — an' them
cards dealt to you — an' the had name I have, I
was scart to cnvn up to it before."

"T undersland," said Rayton slowly — " and I
don't blame you, Dick."

He i)ut out his free hand, and they shook heartily.
" You're a rare one," said the trapper. " You're
white, clean through."

The Englishman langlied confusedly.
" Now, we'd better let Bill Long in and try that
coffee," he suggested. "About what you've just
told me, Dick — well, I think we'd better keep it
quiet for a few days. We'll tell Banks, of course;
but nobody else. Unlock the door, will you, Dick ? "
They drank coffee and smoked. Bill Long went
to bed, yawning, before eleven.

"Where's Mr. Banks, anyhow?" inquired Dick
Goodine. *' Is he makin' a call over to the
Harleys'?"

" He went out to find the man who shot me,"
replied Reginald, with a smile; "but, as he has
missed him, no doubt he is at the TTarleys'. What
time is it? Eleven! He should be home by now."

Half an hour later they both began to feel
anxious. Banks was not in the habit of staying

Dick Goodinc Returns

271

out alter eleven o'clock. There was nothing iti
Samson's Mill Settlement to keep a man (Hit late.

" He went out lookin' fer trouble," remarked the
trapper, "an' maybe he's fnund it. (luess I
may's well go over to llarleys' an' take a look
'round."

" Perhaps he has gone to see Nash," suggested
Rayton.

" Or old Wigmore."

"That's so. Better turn out Bill Long, too.
He can go one way and you another, Dick. Banks
went out in search of trouble, as you say — and
perhaps he has found it. What sort of night is

it?"

" Cloudin' over. Looks like snow — and it's

milder."

Fifteen minutes later the trapper and Bill Long
left the house, each carrving a stable lanterr.. Bill
Long returned within an hour, lie had been to
Doctor Nash's, Samson's, and several other houses,
and had failed to see or hear anything of the
New York sportsman. Twenty minutes later
Dick Goodine returned, accompanied by Jim Har-
Icy. Jim had come in from one of his lumber
camps early that evening, having heard of Reginald
Ra\ ton's accident. He looked worn and anxious;

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27^2

A Back\v()()(ls Mvstcrv

but expressed his relief at liiiding the Enghshman
alive.

" It is more than I expected when I first heard
you had been shot," he said frankly.

Goodine tuld of the unsuccessful search for
Banks. At the 1 larlcy hou.se he had learned that
Banks had not been there during the evening.
Captain Wigmore had been there, however, for a
little while, and had mentioned seeing Banks on
the road. Then Jim Ilarley and Dick Goodine had
called on the captain to make further inquiries.

By that time, it was snowing moderately. They
had banged at the door f(jr fully ten minutes; and
at last the old man, yawning and draped about in
a dressing gown, had let them in. No, he had seen
nothing more of the New Yorker. He had per-
suaded them to enter and sit down for a little
while, and had mixed hot toddy. He had suggested
that Banks was safe home by that time. Then the
two had left the yawning captain to return to his
bed — and that was all.

"Well, he's not here," said Rayton. "What's
to be done now? What do you suggest, Jim? "

Jim had nothing to suggest. His anxiety was
written large on his face.

" ATayhc he's gone into the woods an' got him-

Dick Goodine Returns

•273

self lost," said the trapper. "Anyhow, I reckon
the best thing we can do is turn out an' hunt 'round
ngnin. Maybe he's hurt himself."

"That's right," returned Jim Harley. He laid
his hand on Raytoi;'s shoulder. "And the best
thing you can do is to go to bed," he added solicit-
ously.

Harley, Goodine, and Bill Long went out again
with their lanterns. The snow had ceased, but
the stars were still thinly veiled.

" I can't understand this," whispered Harley to
the trapper. " Mr. Banks should be safe, anyway.
He has never got the marked card."

" Can't a man get into trouble without the help
of them danged cards? You seem to have 'em
on the brain, Jim! " retorted Dick.

Jim sighed resignedly. The fate that made,
dealt, and followed those little red crosses was a
real and terrible thi.ig to him.

The three took different roads after agreeing to
inquire at every house they came to, and, if pos-
sible, to get others to help in the search. It was
now after one o'clock.

Dick Goodine searched the sides of the road,
the edges of fields, the pastures, and every clump
of bushes and of timber he came to. He aroused

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274

A Backwoods Mystery

the inmates of one house, made fruillcss imiuiries,
and was informed that the only adult males of
the family were away in the lumber woods, and
so could not turn out to hunt for the missing sports-
man. At last he found himself standing again
before Captain Wigmore's residence. He could not
say what inlluence or suggestion had led him back
to this spot. He had followed his feet — that is
all. One window on the second floor was famtly
lighted.

" I'd like to know what that old cuss is doin'
up this time of night," he muttered.

He banged at the knocker of the front door
until the captain came downstairs. .

" Vou again. Richard ! " e.xclaimed the old man.
"Come in. Come in. Still hjoking for Mr.
Banks?"

" Yes. He ain't turned up yet," answered the
trapper, stepping into the hall.

" I'll dress and help you hunt for him," said
the captain. " He is a particular friend of mine.
I can't get to sleep for worrying about him."

'If

CHAPTER XIX
THE captain's charge

Captain Wigmore lit a lamp in the sitting room,
ami then went upstairs to dress. As soon as he
was gone, the trapper commenced a noiseless tour
of the room, of the hall, and of the rooms in the
front of the house. He even searched hcneath
articles of furniture and hehind every open door.
He explored the kitchen, the pantry, and the pot
closet behind the stove.

" Guess I'm on the wrong tra. this time," he
admitted at last, and when Wigmore came down
he was sitting patiently on the edge of his chair,
with his toes turned demurely inward and his har Is
on his knees. The captain eyed him keenly for a

moment.

"Want anything?" he asked. "A drink, or

anything? "

" No; thanks all the same, captain," returned the

trapper.

" I heard you wandering around," said Wigmore.

275

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A Backwoods Mystery

" I thought that perhaps you were l(K)kinfr for sonic-
thing. Von were admiring my pictures, I sup

pose ? "

The trapper's face Hushed swiftly. "Guess
again," nc answered calmly. His gaze met the old
ma.rs, and did not waver. Tiie captain was the
first to look away. He sighed as he did so.

"I am afraid you do n.-t trust me entirely,"
he said. "But we must gn and look for poor
Banks. He may he freezing to death somewhere.
Come along. Richard. T',cre is no time to lose."

As the two pas.sed from the house, Goodine was
in front, and for a moment his hack was turned
fairly to the captain. He heard a little gasp, and
turned swiftly. The captain withdrew a hand
quickly from an inner pocket, and stooped to lock
the door.

" What's the trouMe? " asked Dick.

" A twinge in my knee. I am growing old."
answered Wigmore in pathetic tones. And lo this
day, the trapper has never fully realized how near
he was at that moment to a sudden and choking
oblivion.

The old man began to limp after half an hour
of tramping the frozen roads and scrambling
throuj^h underbrush and deep snow. At last he sat

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The Captain's Charji;e

'111

(hnvn on a hemlock stump and confessed tliat lie
had reached the end of his endurance and must
go home. He was sorry; but it was better to
drag himself home now than keep at it a few
minutes longer and then have to be carried. Goodine
agreed with him; and after a short rest the old
man set out on his homeward journey. As long
as he was in range of the trapper's vision he stag-
gered wearily ; but once beyond it he scuttled along
like a little dog. He was anxious to get home
and assure himself that none of his neighbors were
exploring his house during his absence.

Dick Goodine continued his unsuccessful search-
ing of woods, roads, and fields until dawn. He
crossed the trails of other searchers several times,
but not once the trail of Mr. Banks' big and
familiar hunting boots. Upon returning to Ray-
ton's, he found Jim Harley, Benjamin Samson,
Doctor Nash, and several other men drinking coffee
in the kitchen. Reginald had been driven off to
his bed by Nash only a few minutes before. An
air of gloom and mystery pervaded the room. Doc-
tor Nash alone showed an undaunted bearing. He
talked loudly, and slammed the back of his right
hand into the palm of his left continually.

" Banks is no fool! " he exclaimed, for the tenth

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27S

A Backwoods Mystery

time. "Do you think he'd walk out of this house
and lose himself on a night like this? Rot! Tell
me v'ho set fire to Davy Marsh's camp, who tied
old Fletcher up iu that blanket, and who shot Ray-
ton, and I'll tell you who knows where Banks is.
It may be one man, or it may be a gang doing the
work; but there's one man at the back of it all.
Same with the tuarks on the cards. At first T put
it all down to you. Jim; but T coiddn't see why
you should tic up old Fletcher. Ni^v. T see it pretty
straight. That Fletcher business wa.s all a blufif.
He let somebody tie 'u'm up — and, as I've told
you a dozen times, that somebody is old Wig'^'ore.
What do you say, Dick?"

The others all turned and stared at the trapper
with anxious, sleep-shadowed eyes.

" I ain't sayin' yes or no yet a while, doc," re-
plied Goodine. " What you say sounds pretty rea-
sonable ; but I wouldn't swear to it. T ain't a fancy
detective, but when T see a 1 t of smoke T can guess
at fire as well as the next man. Old Fletcher's
vanished, anyhow — an' so has Mr. Banks. T
don't hold that what happened to Reginald has
anything to do with the other queer business. Acci-
dents will happen! But I guess Captain Wigmore
is lyin' when he says Tim Fletcher went to New

The Captain's Char.'^e

279

York; an' I guess he was actin' the goat when he
let on as how he thought Doc Nash marked them
cards. But guessin' won't find Mr. Banks!"

"Of what do you accuse Captain Wigmore?"
asked Jim Harley, gripping Dick's arm. " I've
heard a lot of hinting, but no straight charge.
Speak up like a man and be done with it. Say
what you mean. I'm sick of listening to Lints
against the old man behind his back."

In the silence that followed, the trapper looked
steadily into Harley's eyes, and gently but firmly
unfastened the grip of the fingers on his arm.

" Keep cool, Jim," he said. " Keep a tally on
yer words."

" I'll keep cool enough, Dick. Don't worry
about me," retorted Jim. " Rut answer a few
questions, will you? A few straight (|uestions?"

The trapper nodded.

" Do you think Captain Wigmore had any-
tliing to do witli the marks on tlie cards?"
asked Harley. " Cive me a straiglit yes or no to
tli;it."

A straight yes or no! Right you are! Yes,

I m

"You do! Why?"

" Because I do, that's all. Ask your other ques-

280

A Backwoods Mystery

tions, an' be darned quick about it. My temper's
short."

" Have you any proof that he marked the
cards?"

No. And you haven't any proof that he didn't,
neither."

The others crowded close around Dick Goodine
and Jim Harley.

" And do you think he had anything to do with
Davie Marsh's troubles?"
'^-.n't say. Don't know."

" Do you think he shot old Reginald Ray-
ton ? "

" No, I don't."

"Why don't you?"

" Because I shot him myself."

A gasp went up from the group of anxious and
astonished men.

" You ! " exclaimed Harley. " I don't believe
it."

" It's the truth, anyhow. I mistook him for a
buck. He knows all about it."

"Took him for a buck?"

" That's what I said; an' if any man here thinks
I'm lyin' he'd better not say so, or he'll get his
face pushed in."

The Captain's Charge

281

" It's a mistake that's bin made before," said
Samson.

Others nodded.

'Well, there you are!" said Harney. "If you
hadn't wounded Rayton yourself, you'd say that
Captain Wigmore did it. But all this talk won't
help Banks. What are we to do next?"

" Have some breakfast and a nap, an' then start
in huntin' him again," said Benjamin Samson.
" We simply got to find him, or there'll be terrible
things printed in the New York papers about this
here settlement."

All left the house for their own homes except
Goodin: and Doctor Nash. As Goodine busied
himself at the stove, preparing breakfast, Nash
said : '' That was a startler, Dick. Is it straight
that you plugged Rayton in the shoulder?"

"Just as I said, doc," replied the trapper.

" Does Wigmore know you did it? "

" Guess not, or he would have said so before
this. He put it onto you."

"He did, the old skunk. But he knew he was
lyin' when he said it. If it wasn't you, Dick, I'd
think Wigmore had paid some one to take a shot
at Rayton. My idea is that he works the cards
and then gets some one else to make the truuble."

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28^^ A Backwoods Mystery

" Alaybe so. He didn't get me to do that
shootin', anyhow. I guess he's the man who works
the cards, all right; but I'd like to know what he
does it for."

" My idea is that he had heard that story about
tlie cards before and is trying to scare people away
from Nell Harley. The old fool is soft as mush
on her himself, you know."

" Well, doc, what we'd best do now is to eat
a snack an' then turr. in an' get a couple of hours'
sleep; an' if we don't find Mr. Banks to-day
we'll just up an' ask old Wigmore the reason
why."

Two hours later Captain Wigmore lurrself ar-
rived at Rayton's house. Nash, Goodine, and
young Bill Long were in the kitchen, pulling on
their moccasins and overcoats. The captain looked
exceedingly tired, but very wide awake.

"I've found a clue!" he exclaimed. "Look at
this knife! Did you ever see it before, any of
you?"

He placed a big clasp knife on the table.

"Why, it's Banks' knife," cried Doctor Nash.
" I've seen it several times. I'd swear to it."

"Yes, it's his. And there's H. P. B. cut on
the handle." said Dick.

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The Captain's Charge

^iHS

" I found it this morning, on the Bhie Hill
road," said the captain.

" On the Blue Hill road? How Far out? "

" About three miles from my place. I've been
hunting for Banks since sunrise, and this is all
I've found."

" What in thunder would he be doing out
there? "

" Tliat's what we must find out," said the cap-
tain. " Perhaps he was drunk and didn't know
where he was going. Or perhaps he was bound
for Blue Hill station to catch a train. Heaven
only knows! "

"How is the road?"

" Very fair, as far as I went."

" Then I'll hitch the horses into the sled, and
we'll light out on his trail,"" said the trap-
per.

And that is what happened. Goodine and Doctor
Nash set off at a brisk trot in the sled, taking
Captain Wigmore dong with them as far as his
own gate. He gave them some exact information
as to the place where he had picked up the knife.
He said that he was sorry that he could not go
along with them. Init lie was an old man and very
tired. So they drove on without him. Several

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284 A Backwoods Mystery

teams had been hauling timber and cordwood that
way since tlie snow, so the road was in very good
concHtion.

They reached the spot — or as near it as they
could tell — where Wigmoro claimed to have found
the knife, and spent half an hour in searching the
woods on both sides of the road. Needless to say,
tlioy found no further trace of Mr. Banks. Then
they went on all the way to Blue Hill Corner and
the railway st.-.tion. The distance was fourteen
miles — fourteen long niilas. At the village and
the station they made inquiries, but no one there
had seen the big Xow Ycjrker. He had not left
by the morning train. They remained to dinner
at Blue Hill Corner, searched the surrounding
country after dinner, then set out on the home-
ward njad, making frequent stops to hunt about
in the woods. It was close upon sunset when they
reached Samson's Mill Settlement. Dick Goodii.'
was depressed, and Doctor Nash was in a bad
temper.

"Darn this country, anyway!" exclaimed Nash.
" It's full of a lot of savages — and crooks. And
what's to become of my practice if I have to spend
all my time hunting round for Banks? To hell
with it! "

The Captain's Charge

285

Early in the afternoon of the same day, Nell
Harley received an unexpected visit. It was from
Maggie Leblanc. Jim was away, still searching
for the lost New Yorker, and Kate was busy in
the sewing room upstairs.

" I wpnter tell'e somethin' very particular," said
Maggie, in a faint voice and with a flurried man-
ner. "Let me tell ye all by yerself. It — it be
mighty particular."

" Is it about Mr. Banks ? Do you know where
lie is?" asked Nell anxiously.

" No, it ain't about him," replied Maggie Le-
blanc. " I don't know nothin' about him."

Nell led the w^ay to the sitting room, and mo-
tioned her visitor to a chair by the fire.

" Has — has anything happened to — Mr. Ray-
t(Mi? " she asked.

Maggie shook her head. " No ! No ! It is
about me — an' Dick Goodine." She brushed her
eyes furtively with the back of her hand. " I liked
Dick," she continued unsteadily; "but he didn't
seem to care. Then I — begun to feel's if I hated
him. I knew him an' Davy Marsh was bad friends,
so I begun to try to get Dick inter trouble with
Davy — an' maybe with the law. After Davy's
canoe upsot in the rapids that day, i went an' found

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A Backwoods Mystery

the broken pole in the pool, an' fixed an end of
it su's it looked like it had been cut halfway
IhrouG^h. Then I put it up on a rock so's it would
be found.

" I knowed folks vvotdd think Dick done it be-
cause he an' Davy wasn't ^[(KDd friends, an' he
w-is the last man Davy seen afore he started up-
stream that day. Dick heliK-d Davy to load the
canoe. Then — then / sot fire to Davy's camp.
I)Ut when Dick said as h(nv he didn't fire the camp
nor cut the pole, most every one seemed to believe
him. T was feelin' different about Dick bv that
time — mij,dity sorry T tried to hurt him. But I
was a feared to tell anybody what T done. Da^y
IMarsh is that mean an' small. he'<I have the la.v
on me. Then iVIr. Raytoti. he .c:ot shot — an' then
Mr. Banks, he s^of lost; an' this mornin' Dick
Goodine up an" tells yer brother, an' Doc Nash,
an' a whole bunch more, as how it was him shot
Mr. Ray ton."

"Yes. Jim tr)ld me of it. ITe mistook Mr.
Rayton for a deer," said Nell.

" But some folks tkjn't believe as how he took
him for a deer," said Ma^ffie. " It's the talk all
over the settlement now — an' old Captain Wig-
more, he be makin" a terrible story of it all. He

The Captain's Charji^e

287

has startetl up talk about what hapi)ened to Dave
Marsh ag'in. He's niakin' it look 'sif Dick done
everything — an' like 'sit he done ;/Miiething to
Mr. Hanks, too. An' there be plenty of fools in
this settlement to listen to him. So I'm tellin' ye
the truth about who sot fire to Davy Marsh's camp.
Davy don't know it himself. He says Dick done
it — when Dick ain't lookin*. But T done it — an'
'twas me doctored that piece of canoe pole that
broke by accident first of all — an' I'm wilHn' to
swear to it on the book! "

" You need not swear it to me." said Nell Har-
ley. " T believe what you have told me — every
word of it — though it is a terrible thing! And
I believe whatever Dick Goodine says. What can
I do to help Dick?"

" I guess you like Dick pretty well." said Maggie
Leblanc, with a swift, sidewise glance of her black
eyes. " An' Dick likes you. That's why I got
mad at him, an' Wigmore an' some other folks say
that's why he shot at Mr. Rayton."

"Surely not!" cried Nell, in distress. "How
can he say such things? Oh! I am growing to
detest that old man — with his everlasting smile.
As for Dick — why. he scarcely knows me. And
he is Reginald's friend. And he knows — of

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A Backwoods Mystery

!t-

course lie knows — tliat — that Reginald and I —
love each other."

Maggie Leblanc nodded her head vigorously and
smiled.

" Don't you fret yerself." she said. "If he don't
know it, then I'll tell him."

Her eyes clouded again instantly. " I guess ye
can help Dick by just tcllin' yer brother Jim what
I told ye. Then he'll stand up fcr Dick — him and
Mr. Rayton will — an' what old Cap'n Wigmore
says won't harm him much, I guess."

" I will tell him. He will be on Dick's side, of
course," said Nell. And then, " Rut why is Cap-
tain Wigmore trying tc get Dick into trouble?
What has he against Dick ? "

" Maybe he's just tryin' to keep folks from
lookin' too close at his own doin's," said Maggie.

Nell Harley nodded, but said neither yes nor no.
The thought was in her own mind. Captain Wig-
more, the recent troubles and mysteries, and the
marked cards had been associated in her thoughts
of late.

Jim Harley got home in time for supper. He
told of a fruitless search; and then Nell told of
Mnggie Leblanc's amazing confession. Jim sighed
as if with sudden relief. After a minute of re-

The Captain's Charge

'^S!)

tk'Cti^e .silence, lie said: " L5ut, still, the accidents
fdllowed the cards — except in this last case. 1 low
are we to e.xplain that — and the cards themselves?
I'irst, it was Davy Marsh, and then Rayton ; Init
(lie card was never dealt to Mr. P..inks ! "

" Which shows that your f()olish olil curse is
poinj^ all wroni;," said his wife.

" Rej^inald does not helieve in the curse — and
neither do I," said Nell.

" Whoever did the injuries, and whoever dealt
tlie cards, the injuries have followed the dealing
of the cards," said Jim gloomily.

" Except in this last case." said his wife. " It
looks to me as if Fate, or whatever you call it,
is getting itself mixed up."

After supper, Jim. and his wife, and sister, all
went over to see Reginald Rayton. A fresh force
of men had taken up the hunt for Mr. Banks, and
parties had started for every village and settle-
ment within a radius of thirty miles. The Har-
Icys found Reginald in the sitting room, in com-
pany with Dick Goodine and Doctor Nash. Rumor
of old Wigmore's campaign against the trapper had
already reached them, and they were talking it
over. Nash was bitter.

" The old devil tried to put it on me," he said,

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"aii'l iiia\l)c lif \\>>\\\i\ haw succcfdcd if Dick
lia.ln'! (i.iilVsNcd. jiist wait till I src Iiiiii! I )ick
slii.t l\a\tMn; hut il \\a^ \\ii,niii)rc himself who
liii'd Mardi's laiiip — yes, and u Im's at tin- hottom
nf many inurr of dic-c trirk>! '"

Thrti N'cll Ihirli'y ti-M iheni what ^[a,L:?:^c T-c-
I'laiu- had ci mftvsscd to her. Thr ^iUnrt- that fol-
I-iwid the story was hmkiii hy Dick doodinc.

"She told ynii that!" he exclaimed, jutiipinjr to
In- feet. "She toM it herself? To save ine?
Where is she now ? "

lie was ahont to Iea\e the room when the door
• 'Itened and he was confronted by Captain Wig-
more.

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ciiArxr-.R XX

TTIF. CIIOSK.V INSTRUMENT OF FATE

Mr. Ranks aii<l Timothy Fletcher stood in Cap-
tain Wij^niore's hall, hrcathinj^ ([uictly and straining,'
t'vcs and cars. All \va^ silent. All seemed safe,
r.anks opened the door. The little poreh was
empty. TTe stepped aero^'; the threshold, followed
cliKflv by the stacfizerinsr Fletcher. They pushed
open the door of the porch, and stumbled out of
that horrible house, into the frosty moonshine, onto
crisp snow. No lurkinjj: dant^'er confronted
I, .m. They were free.

"Thank God!" cried Harvey P. Banks.
h\ >ter''.\al!v

The air was bitterly cold, and the two fugitives
were without overcoats. They were so overjoyed
to find themselves free men again, however, that
tlicy felt no discomfort from the gnawing of the
frozen air. The little servant clung to the big
sportsman; and so they moved down the narrow
path and through the gate onto the highway.

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A Backwoods Mystery

" lie's played his last dirty trick on me — or any
one else," mumbled Fletcher. " I've stood 'im too
long — too long! Now. he'll go back where he
C(->nie from — the grinnin' snake!"

He leaned heavily on Banks' arm and laughed
shrilly.

"Which way?" asked P.anks.

" Don't care." replied bdetcher.

" We'll head straight fov RaytcMi's. then." said
Banks. " Tt seems a montli since I've seen Reg-
inald. Then we'll smc^ke a cig< r. Then we'll hunt
up our friend — ami ])ul the boots lo him."

The cold, clean air stri^ngthened them, and they
were soon stepping out at ipiite a respectable pace.
They even crawled over fences and took ^hort cuts
across snow-drifted meadows and pa.^^ v.-.. They
ditl (lot meet or see a human being, for by this
time the searchers were all miles away from the
settlement. They rested for a minute against Ray-
ton's front gate, then went (juickly up tiie long,
twistiiig road toward the low house and glowing
windows.

"There's en ly," said Timothy. "Maybe
they're bavin' another game o' poker." TTe grinned
at Banks. "Oh. you're easy! A baby could fool
the lot o' vou," he added.

THe Chosen Instrument of Fate 293

" Right you are. That is the sitting-room win-
dow. The curtains are not drawn tight. Let's
look in and see who's there," said Banks.

P.anks took the first look.

" Reginald and Nash," he whispered. " And the
girl — yes, and Jim and Dick. And who's that
.fitting with his back to the window?"

Old Fletcher edged himself into the place of
vantage.

" It's him!" he whispered. " It's that snake! "

" Quiet ! " cautioned the other. " Look ! He's
(in his feet. He's wiping his eyes. There's been
trouble. They have hurt his feelings, the poor,
dear old saint! "

Old Timothy Fletcher trembled like a wet dog.

" I'll saint 'im! " he hissed. " Come on! Come
on!"

They left the window, opened the back door
noiselessly, crossed the kitchen on tiptoes, and
threw open the door of the sitting room. Fletcher
pushed past Banks, and darted up to within a foot
of Captain Wigmore.

"You lyin'. murderin', stinkin' old lunatic!" he
screamed. " You thought you'd leave me to
starve, did vou? It's back to tne madhouse for
you — damn you! "

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A Backwoods Mystery

livery one ii the room was standing, staring
breathlessly. For a moment Wigmore gaped at his
old servant, his month open, his eyes like stones.
Then, with a choking cry, he reeled aside. Mr.
Banks gripped him by the shoulder, and shook him
furiously.

" ^^ou devil! " he roared. " You smirking hypo-
crite! You've come to the end of your deviltries! "

Wigmore made a dash for the door. Timothy
Fletcher sprang in front of him, and was hurled
to the floor. Then ]\Ir. Banks jumped after Wig-
more, caught the back of his coat, and at the same
moment tripped over the prostrate Timothy and
crashed to earth. The little room was now in
tumult and confusion. Nell Harley crouched in a
corner. Rayton stood guard in front of her, his
sound m extended. Jim Harley sat upon the
shoulders of the big New Yorker, crying: "No
murder here! No murder here! What d'ye mean
by it?"

Timothy, lying flat, clung to Wigmore's right
leg.

•'Stop him!"' he yelled. "Stop him! He's
mad — a ravin' lunatic ! "

W^igmore kicked his old servant in the face, and
wrenched himself clear. In another second he

ii:

The Chosen Instrument of Fate 29.5

would have been oul of the room and away — but
just then Dick Goodine and Doctor Nash closed
with the terrible old man, crushed him to the lloor,
and held him li.^.e. They had their hands full,
Inil they continued to hold him down.

There came a brief lull in the terrific tumult
— but the excitement was not yet over. Mr.
ITarvey P. Banks was indignant. A madman had
tried to starve him to death, and now a presuma-
bly sane man sat ujjon his back and called him a
murderer. All his natural blandness was burned
out — - scorched to a flake of ash. The passions
of fur-clad, pit-dwelling ancestors flamed within
him. He arose furiously, twisted around, and
flung Jim Harley aside. He gripped him by the
breast with his left hand, by the right wrist with
his right. He was quick as a lizard and strong
as a lion. The lumberman was like a child in his
hands.

" You fool ! " he cried, glaring. " What d'you
mean by it? So you arc on Wigmorc's side, are
you? — on the side of the man who tried to mur-
der his servant and me — yes, and who marked
and dealt those cursed cards! You'd sit on wy
back, would you? For two pins T'd pick you up
and heave you against the wall. Tell me — were

V f < I

29G

A Backwoods Mystery

you in league with this old ? Tell me quick

— or I'll finish you! Did yt khuw Wiginore was
marking those cards ? "

"The cards!" cried poor Jim. "No. no! On
my soul. T didn't know it! So help nie God, I
tijought it was the family curse!"

"You fo(jl!" exclaimed Ranks, loosening his
grip and turning away. TTIs rage had also fallen
to a'^hcs. leaving hi'; big face rlrawn and gray, and
his great limhs trei.ihling. His eyes were dim.

" That snake poisons the air," he muttered.

He stepped across to where Goodine and Nash
held down the squirming captain.

" Let liim get up. He ha-- a good man} things
to explain to us." he said cpiietly.

Just then poor old Fletcher raised his head,
showing a cut and bleeding mouth. Banks lifted
him in his arms, and laid him on the couch.

" Don't stand there like a wooden image ! " he
said to Jim Harley. " Your inactivity has done
quite enough harm already. This old man has been
gagged, bound, and starved for days. Get him
some brandy."

As Nash and Goodine removed their knees and
hands from Captain Wigmore, that old sinner began
to laugh immoderately. Still laughing, he got

■i*.

The Chosen Instrument of Fate 297

nin jly to his feet, bowed to right and left, and
sat down in an armchair.

" Mad as a dog." mumbled Fletcher, with his
bleeding lips. " He never was rightly cured, any-
how ! "

"Mad?" queried the captain. "If you mean
insane, my goad fellow, you are very much mis-
taken. That's right, Jim. Give him a drink —
but first wipe the blood nff bis lips. Don't spoil
the flavor of gO(Kl whisky with bad blood."

" If you are not insane," said Banks, " then you
are utterly evil — a thing to crush out like a poison-
ous snake. But to look you in the eyes is to read
tiie proof of your insanity."

Wigmore frowned. " Banks," he said, " you are
feeble. You have the mind and outlook upon life
of a boy of ten — of a backward boy of ten. But
even so. I believe you ha\e more intelligence than
our friends here. However that may be. you man-
aged to blunder across the right trail at last.
That's why I took you in hand."

" You seem to forget that I have escaped you,"
said Banks.

\\'igmore nodded. " I made the mistake of ,m-
derestimating your b.idily strength." lie admittc<l.
'■ I don't understand even now, how you managed

298

A Backwoods Mystery

\uf.

to get out of that closet. You couldn't kick down
the door — even with those boots."

"Never mind about that!" exclaiincd Jim Ilar-
lev. while with excitement. Tell mc about
llic cards! What do you know about the
carils? "

The old man ga/ 1 ai him for a second or
two with a face of derisive in(|uiry, and then burst
again into furious laughter.

" Absolutely cracked," said Doctor Nash. " Ab-
solutely, utterly, hopelessly off his chump!"

Wigmore ceased his wild laughter so suddenly
that every one was startled.

" Jim," he said, with a bland leer. " you are so
simple and unsuspecting that I hate to tell you the
truth. But I have to do it. Jim, just to prove
to P.anks and the rest that 1 am not insane. Jim,
my boy, 7 a;;? the chosen instrument of Fate."

A brief, puzzled silence followed, which was
broken by the croaking voice of old Timothy
Fletcher.

"Forget it!" snarled Timothy. " D'you mind
the time you was the Sultan of Turkey? "

Wigmore smiled at his servant, then glanced
aroimd the room, and tapped his forehead sug-
gestively with a finger.

i t

The Chosen Instrument of Fate W9

'•Instrument of Fate? Sultan of Turkey?"
(|uericcl Banks.

Jim Harley leaned forward, clutched the old
man's shoulder, and shook it violently.

"What do you know about those caids?" he
cried. " Tell me that — quick ! "

" You seem to be in a terrible hurry, all of a
sudden," replied the captain. "Oh. well, it does
not matter; but if you really knew just who I
am — if you fully realized who I am —you'd treat
me with more consideration. I am the chosen hus-
!)and of your sister. I am her destiny."

"Who arc you?" asked Harley, scarcely above
a whisper.

" I am the instrument of the Fate that haunts
the steps of your mother's daughter," replied Wig-
more. " r am the chosen instrument. I deal the
cards — and the blow falls. I do not have to soil
my hands — to strike the blows. I mark the cards,
and deal them — and Fate does the rest, through
<=uch tools as come to »-• r hand."

He leered at Dick Goodine.

" Then you admit that vou marked and dealt
the cards ! " cried Harley.

"Certainly, my dear boy. It was my duty to
do so — just as it was my duty to ([uiet Banks

300

A Backwoods Mystery

liir
!:■■

It.;

when he came blundering into my affairs. 1 am
the keeper of the curse — the instrument of Fate
— the — the "

He pressed both hands to his forehead, and
sighed.

" The star boarder at the Fairvillc Insane Asy-
hnn," snarled Timothy Fletcher, " an' may the devil
catch that fool doctor who said you was cured!"
he added.

Wigmore lifted his face.

" I am John Kdward Jackson," he said pleas-
antly, as if introducing himself to strangers. "Cap-
tain Jackson — the exile."

"Jackson!" cried Jim Harlcy. "Jackson?
What do you mean? Not the Jackson?"

The old man nodded. "That's right, Jim.
That's why I marked the cards. I came here on
purpose to look after Nell, you know^ It was my
duty."

" fTe is mad," said Banks. " He is not respon-
sible for what he says or does. He must be taken
back to Fairville."

" Yes. T am Captain Jackson." continued old
Vv'igmore. " I had to go away from my home,
po T took to seafaring for a while. What was the
trouble? Sometimes T remember and sometimes I

The Chosen Instrument of Fate 301

forget. I got lold of a mine and made money.
Then I made a vo)age back to my own country,
on very important business."

"That's one of tiic stories he used to tell me
when I was his keeper in the lunatic asylum," said
Timothy Fletcher. " Sometimes he was Jackson
an' sometimes he was the Grand Turk."

" Von keep your mouth shut till you are spoken
to." screamed Wigmore, in sudden fury.

Harley stooped and gazed anxiously at the old
man.

"Did you murder my father?" he asked, his
voice shaking.

For a second the other starerl at him blankly.

" Certainly not ! " he cried indignantly. " All I
have to do is place the card! I engaged an old
sailor, or something of the kind, to dispatch your
father. I indicate. Fate destroys."

Then he leaned back in his chair and laughed
heartily.

m|I

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CITAPTF.l^ XXI

THE DKATII OF THE CURSE

Jim IIari.ky's face twisted and stiffened like a
,c:r<>tesi|ne and hidcuus ina>k ; his lioncst eyes nar-
rowed and reddened; fur a little while he stood
there, motionless as a fuj^iu'c of wood; then h
tontjue llickered ont and moistened his dry lips,
and the t'lnt^ers of his hi;^ han<ls opene(l and closed
several times. The stron;; fini^ers closed so des-
])cratelv that the nails fnrrowed the skin of his
palms and came away with a stain of red.

"Damn von!" he cried, in a voice so terrihle
and unnatnrrd tliat it startled his hearers like a
c^nn-shot in the small room. " Damn yon. yon
accnrsed mnrdt'rer! ^'on tell me that yon mur-
dered my father — and you sit there and 1au,s[h.
^'ou devil! I'll kill you where yon s't -with my
cm])tv hands."

He s])rang forward; hut Banks threw ont an
arm like iron and i^rappled with him in the nick
of time. Of the others Rayton alone moved to

302

The Death of the Curse

,'JI).')

lalp ill \\w piutcxlioii ni l\\- 1,1(1 iiKiii who s.it laugh-
iiii,^ ill llic chair. Dr. .\a->h locked i>'i wilh interest,
Dick (io()(hne foliled his arms and Idc-tclur snarled,
■• Kill the old de\il. Crazy < >v sane, he >tniks to
iUa\eii an' euiiihers the earth."

r.aiik^ and llailey slaj^i^eied like drnnken men

within a foot of [he oM man\ eliair. 1 larlev was

hliiifl with rat^e. h'.very dro[) of hkjod, every

Min-cle, leai)| to lie at the slayer of his father.

Nell, who hatl tied from (he room a moment hefore,

now retnrned and r.in to her brother, crying out

to him to I)e rensonahle. Rayton followed the

stumbling and reeling of the wrestlers, too weak

to assist Banks but plucking constantly at a coat

ur shoulder. This time TTarley was no cliild in the

big sportsman's arms. He fought like a mad man,

P<.sscsscd and a-Hrc with the determination to

destroy his father's nunderer.

" It is a devil ! " he cried. " Let me at him. T
say," and twice he tripped P.anks and had him
down with one knee on the floor. Hut lie could
not get clear of the l)ig fellow, nor overthrow him.
And still Captain Wigmore sat in the chair and
langhed as if he .should die of unholy mirth.

The superior weight of Mr. Banks told at hM.
He crushed Jim Harley to the carpet and held him

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304

A Backwoods Mystery

III ; I

>i.l'3!!

II ;

I) ;

there, staring ihiwn at him with a ilubhcd, moist
face. Harlcy glared up at him, still s(iuirming and
wriggling.

" Lie still," said Pianks, breathlessly. " Do you
want to add another murder to die list of trage-
dies?"

" That's what I want to do," gasped Jim. " But
it wouldn't be murder t(j clean t'le face of the
carih of '^hat devil. Let me up, yo.i big slob."

" You'll thank me for this, some day," replied
Mr. Banks, sitting firmly and heavily upon Jim
Harley's heaving chest. By this time. Nell Harley
had subsided into Reginald's anxious and ready
arms.

Captain Wigmore stopped laughing suddenly and
glanced from Banks and Jim on the floor to the
girl and her lover.

" It's as good as a play," he said. " Banks, all
this unseemly and ungentlcmanly struggle is thrown
away. My young friend Jim was powerless to do
me any injury. I am beloved of the gods. I am
the chosen instrument of fate --of the fate of the
Harley family. Reginald, you silly young ass, I
see you hold that lady in your arms with no other
feeling than that of pity for yourself. The fates
have ordained that I am to be her hus])aiid.

The Death of the Curse

305

Timothy, you glowering (»l(i fool, bring me a drink
of whisky. Don't stand there, sir! Step lively
wiien I speak to you, or I'll send for the bosun to
jnil you in irons."

" lM)rget it," snarled Timothy Fletcher. " You'll
never set yer lips to another taste of whisky in
this world, you oU\ reprobate. I see death in yer
eyes now — an' already the Hare of hell fire.
It's a drink of water ye'll be hfjllerin' for pretty
soon."

" Let me up," said Jim Harley. " I promise you
I won't touch him."

So Mr. Banks and Jim arose stiffly from the
floor.

Captain Wigmore, or Captain Jackson, or the
Sultan of Turkey — call him what you will —
glared at Timothy in silence for several seconds,
with hate and despair in his eyes. His long, slen-
der fingers plucked at his ashen lips. Again, as
suddenly as a change of thought, he burst into mad
laughter; this laughter grew and thinned to shriek-
ing, then fell presently to sobbing and muttering.
He seemed to crumple and shrink; and slowly he
slid from the low chair to the floor. The company
Ir.oked on without moving or speaking, some in a
state of helpless horror, the doctor and old Timothy

mirk

I"'

.'?()G

A Backwoods Mystery

Fletcher with harsh curiosity. Nell Harley hid her
face against Reginald's shoulder.

The murderer s(iuirnied on the lloor, sobbing and
muttering; and by the time Doctor Nash had de-
cided that he was really having a fit the old devil
had finished leaving it. Tie was dead! Xash turned
him over and felt for his heart. The heart was
still.

" The ugliest death I ner saw," said Nash,
glancing up at the horrified company.

"And the ugliest life," said old Timothy
Fletcher.

Reginald led the girl from the room. They
stumbled along the hall and sat side by side upon
the bottom step of die stairs. Then the girl began
to weep and the shaken young man to comfort her.

Old Wigmore's secret had not escaped with his
wild and twisted spirit.

" Hoist him onto the .sofa," said the doctor.
" We'll sit on him here and now."

All agreed that the so called Captain Wigmore
had died in a fit. Then Dick Goodine left the
house, saying that a little fresh air would make
him feel cleaner. Mr. Banks lit a cigar, remarking
that he would fiunigate tliis chamber of horrors.
Then Dr. Nash, as coroner, and Jim Harley, who

The Death of the Curse

307

was a justice of the peace, agreed that they had
the authority to search the helongings of the de-
ceased. Timothy Fletcher said that he knew where
the old devil kept all his private papers. So Ray-
ton took Neli home, and Nash, Ranks, Harley and
the old servant drove over to the dead man's house,
taking the shrunken and stiffened clay along with
tlicm in the back of the pung. They entered the
cm])ty house and Timothy lit a candle and led
the way upstairs to the captain's hcd-room. He
pointed to a large, iron-bound wooden chest which
stood at the foot of the bed.

" There's where he keeps his ungodly secrets,"
he said. " Mind the corp, gentlemen, or it'll turn
over in agony when we unlock the box. Hell!
how I do wish the old sinner was alive to see it.
I shouldn't wonder but we'll find some bones of
dead men in that box."

"Where is the key?" asked Banks, shivering
at Timothy's words and puffing nervously at a
freshly lit cigar.

Timothy chuckled at the big man's discomfort
and borrowed a strong knife from Jim Harley.
He went to a mahogany secretary which stood at
the head of the bed. opened the top drawer and
applied the blade of the knife to the front of a

308

A Backwoods Mystery

secret compartment within the drawer. He turned
in a moment and tossed a bunch of keys to Mr.
Banks. Nash took the keys from the New
Yorker's hands and knelt down before the chest.
Jim Harley held the candle. The chest had three
locks and each of the three called for a separate
key. At last the heavy lid was freed and lifted.
The too of the trunk was full of clothing. They
lifted out a tray and found more clothing. They
lifted out another tray and found, in the bottom
of the chest, books, nautical instruments, a chart
or two, a small bag of English gold, a brace of
revolvers and a small iron dispatch-box. In the
dispatch-box they found many documentary proofs
of the old man's claim to the style and title of
Captain John Edward Jackson. They found his
ship-master's certificate, an appointment to the
command of a gun-boat in the Brazilian navy,
title deeds to several mining properties in Brazil,
a yellow clipping from a St. John newspaper re-
cording the marriage of Captain Thomas Harley,
and another reporting and commenting upon Har-
ley's sudden and deplorable death at the hands of
an unknown assassm.

" This little snake was the murderer. There can
be no doubt about it." said Jini Harley.

The Death of the Curse

309

" He is answering for it now," said Mr. Banks,
quietly.

" I am afraid we must turn all these things over
to the Crown," said Nash. " I don't know any-
thing about the law; but I imagine it is the busi-
ness of the Crown to take care of these things
and look for heirs."

Mr. Banks nodded.

" I think the lawyers will find it a very pretty
thing," he remarked. " As for Samson's Mill Set-
tlement, it will become known to the world."

" But we'll burn these newspaper clippings," said
Jim Harley, snatching them up and crushing them
in his hand. " The murderer is dead and the curse
is dead. We'll let the old story die, too."

" I wonder if the title-deeds are straight," mur-
mured Nash. " Can the Crown collect, do vou
think? I'll make out my bill for professional ser-
vices, anyway."

" Heaven only knows what the lawyers will
make of it," said Banks.

Harley thrust the scraps of old newspaper into
the flame of the candle, and as the blaze crawled
up and threw red wavr.s of light around the room,
Banks and Nash jumped as if they were on springs
and old Timothy Fletcher let out a yell.

i'V!

;rl

:^!s

it' ■

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310

A Backwoods Mystery

'.i\

til.

Iff''

§il

" 1 thought tlie old varment was a-lire ahx-ady
an' loukin' over my shoulder," explained Timothy,
a minute later. He lit several more candles and
led the way downstairs and into the dining-room.
He got out a decanter of whisky, glasses and water.
All four helped themselves to stiff doses. Nash
took a sip, then raised his glass.

" The old bounder started all manner of mis-
chief in this place, between friends and neighbors."
he said, "but now he's dead we'll have a little
peace. Here's to peace! I wish Reginald Rayton
was here to shake hands with me."

" A very proper wish," said Mr. Banks. " The
old rascal made fools of every mother's son of
us."

" He was a wonder," said Timothy Fletcher.
" This place will be dull as ditch water now. He
was a great pot cracked, a great bottle busted. I
hope he stays dead, that's all. What yarns he used
to tell me, when I was his nurse at Fairville —
afore he begun to pretend he was cured. I used
to think they was all lies; but now I guess they
was true — the most of them, anyhow. Of course
1 never stood for the Sultan of Turkey story. An'
he'd talk about the sea. an' foreign ports all smelly
with sugar an' rum an' spice, until I was pretty

The Death of the Curse

311

near ripe to run away an' sign on with some skip-
per. An' the adventures! To hear him, gentle-
men, you'd swear that in all his v'yages he'd never
gone ashore without savin' the life of a beautiful
woman nor glanced up at a window in the narrow
street without havin' a rose or a letter chucked out
to him. He was a wonder. Oh, yes, I admired
his brains, even after I begun to hate him. He
was a good master to me for awhile after we left
the mad-house — until he commenced rollin' me up
in blankets every now an' agin' an' jumping on
top of me when I was sound asleep, yowlin' like
a moon-struck dog. I should have spoke about all
them things to one of you gentlemen, I know;
but I figgered as how he might grow out of them
tricks some day an' maybe remember me in his
will. I'll miss him ; but T ain't sorry to see the
last of him. damn him! T got my wages all safe
— an' he paid me well."

CHAPTER XXII

IN THE WAY OF HAPPINESS

Captain Wigmore was buried in Samson's Mill
Settlement, in a little graveyard on a spruce-
sheltered slope behind the English church. A very
young parson drove thirty miles to bury him; and
as a Baptist minister had driven twenty miles for
the same purpose a joint service was held.

"The old joker is safe buried, anyhow; an' I'm
glad to know it," was Timothy Eletcher's comment
at the side of the grave.

" I'll never dig him up, you may be sure," said
Mr. Banks.

Mr. Banks returned to New York a few days
after the funeral, but not before he had learned
the date set by Nell Plarley for her wedding. He
promised to be on hand to give the groom away.
Timothy Fletcher bought three big dogs for com-
panions and continued to occupy the late captain's
house as caretaker. The dogs always slept in the
same room with him and he burned night lights
by the score.

312

. 1 '■

In the Way of Happiness 313

The Crown took charge of the late captain's
properties and discovered half a dozen heirs in the
persons of Brazilian ladies who had considered
tlicmselves widows for years past. The Crown had
its troubles. The Brazilian government stepped in
f^eneroasly to share these troubles. Lawyers set
to work in several languages and divers systems of
bookkeeping. What they made of it I don't know;
but the wives were all discredited and proven null
and void — and Dr. Nash's bill remains unpaid to
this day.

Nell Harley and Reginald Rayton were married
in June. Mr. Ranks attended in a frock coat and
silk hat that surpassed everything present in novelty
and glory except the head-gear and coat of the
groom. It was a wonderful wedding; and to top
it, the young couple set out immediately for Eng-
land to visit Reginald's people.

"That's what I call style, from first to last."
said Mr. Samson. " Them's the kind of folk I
like to associate with, so long's they don't set in
to a game of cards."

Dick Goodine married Maggie Leblanc in July.

Poker is never played now in Samson's Mill
Settlement. Timothy Fletcher still lives in the
house that nobody seems to own and that somehow

•:

ti4

u'.ii

Hi Ik

lit

:;3

■J

[31t

A Backwoods Mystery

lias been overlooked by the Crown, the Brazilian
(Jovernnient and the lawyers in both langnages.
He works now and again for the Raytons or the
Ilarleys. Reginald has bought more land and
built a new house and several cottages. His farm
is the largest, the best and the best-worked in the
country. Mr. Banks visits the Raytons every
October, for the shooting, and every June for the
fishing.

Davy Marsh is guiding over on the Tobiquc now.
He never comes home to the settlement. I have
heard that he is the most expensive guide on that
river — hut not the best, by a long shot.

Dr. Nash is still a bachelor. He dines twice a
week with the Raytons, as a regular thing, and
of tenor when Mr. Ranks is there. He is not a bad
sort, when you really know him well, and he knows
you ; but of course he will always be something of
an ass.

THE END.

From

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Announcement List

of New Fiction

THE STORY GIRL

Hv L. M. MoNT<;oMEUT.

Cloth, 12mo, illuHtratc'd, decorative jackc* $i 50

lo (luote from one of our editor's report.s on the new Mont-

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A CAPTAIN OF RALEIGH'S

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enough to (luite turn'tlie heads of the neveral gallant gentlemen
who struggle for her hand, and to keep the readi r gmsMng until
the very ' st page as to which suitor will fmd favor in '"'■<'>■'.'«•
Inu-sual [d unexpected situations in the plot are handled skil-
fully anu vou close the hook agreeing \M'h our editoi that JNlr.
Roberts has given us another eajiital yarn! " _

"Mr Roberts has undoubted skill in portraying ehanicter
iind carrying events along to a satisfactory conclusion. —

Tlw Smart Sit. , , ,, ., r, u i n i it

" <^no can alwavs predict of a hook hv Mr. Robert h that it
will bo interesting." ( )ne can go further and pre(lict that the book
will be fascinating, exciting and thrilling. — Boston Ulobc.

A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE

Bv RoiiEUT \k.ii.son Stki'iikn-s, author of " An Knrrny to the
King," "Philip \Vinwoo.l." etc, and (i. Iv '••>-•;."•'"••]
Roi.KRTs, author of " Hemming, the Adventvirer, Red

Featliers," etc. - ^^

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . _. • • *'■■"'
The manv admirers of the brillir.nt historical romances of tlie
late Robert" Neil.son Stei)hens will be grc ihed at the annouiu (j-
ment of a po.sthumous work by that gift.-d writer. 1 he n.r.;:!.
draft of the storv was laid a^ide for other work ami later, witn-
out completim: the m.vel, the plot was ut.li/,.'d for a P ;^v. W . h
fh.. plav completed Mr. Stephens again turmMl his a tention to
the novel, but death prevent.-.l its ••ompletion. Mr. Roberts h.is
handled his difficult t:w<k of eomploting the work with care and

'"'"-rhe «torv like that of " The Continental Dragoon," takes ii5
it,s theme an i.icident in the Rev<.lution and. !i.s in the '.wlier
novel the scene is the " debatable ground north of New ^ork.
In inien'st. of iilot and oriuinality of (ievelopmcnt it is as re-
m.-xrkable as the earlier work, but it ia more matuie, more force-
ful, more real.

Lisr OF A'EW rrcTioiv

THE DILEMMA OF ENGELTIE

liv I'.

iv hMMA 1{avm:u, aulli,.r of " l-n.. t„ Sorvc," «>tc.
I..lh, l.'.n., ,ll„.tr,,t..,l. A-,^ ,„.;i.5 ^,,,„; ,2c. extra)

M l.rnl- Init not a nn.uia, a n.ai.l ,.f th.. <,l.i l)„t.l, New York iluvH
|.r.lt.s rnoiiKh t., turn n.rn'.s In^a.l.s l.,r 1..T [..■aiily alone, uVll
.l<nv.iv.l(.nnii!,'hlolMM,n.'ol the prizes of ihc dc-arlc; the uclldin';:
f.'MtiyiticM, nicrryniakinu.s these Uut.h colomal worlhi.s lovr.l
1.) Hive to pn^prriivc hridcs aiwl p-,„„n.s, ,;, (,,11 suint;; lialf u
. omi yo.inn l)„t(liincn with lian.ls oul.mntch,,! na.lv t<. nr.-^i)
; H. i.ri/.e ami nvipioraP; th,; niaid.'n'.s vows uouM shV l.iii no'l
Mi.ir way; the wc.l,!,,,^ usell as sniv as fat.' or ti.atli; the l.ri.lc
I'P'ij the s.rn,., nr.ivuif; i|„. h...,ors of ||„. o.rasion - alon.-'
tl>" .ii.l.w-..on. an unk-.own .|uani,(v: ll... .I.avs pa.'inK hv in
"". h an.l t..s„v„y an,l .!.,■ w...l,!,n^ .iailv .IniwinK n 'an'r
l'|-"l'lriii -liiiil llichri.l.-rooin! " n.anr,

1 .'/""•^'■'Vt,':,^'"; "".' """^"•'' •-il'i.lion i.s quaint N.'w NCtli.T-

I "in llolluui h.T pn.sp.T...is rolonv in fli.. NVw Worl.l Thr

sharp con ra.-l Lefu..,.,, th.. primitivo .■onditions .,f tiic nciuh-

-rmu s,. tl..n.,.nts an.! th.. ..on.parativ.. inxnry of th, t.-'vn is

t I . m,-;;'. •'""' '"•"'^.••"', -'.vcnhanpn^, l.a.kKronn,] t,. a
t.il* •! imuMial ..x,.,!],.,,,.,. l„,,h n. th.' .•..n....,,(ion ami in the
(li'vilopnu'iil .)t Its n.jvil plot.

A'.'/' idiiion (Tntth PrintirK/) of

FREE TO SERVE

Rv IvMM V R vvNKu. Th,. „.,y..l that n.a.l.. fho aulhnr famotis.
Llotli, l„n,o, with a front ispi.v.. in full r..lor by George Cibhs.

;' •^f"''- rfvlin^' iMnma l?ayn..r's tale ..f Coi.inial Now V.Vrk!

I r... to Ntv.-, what has irn|.r..sse.l ..n.- the most is its vividiioHH

..f at,„osphe,v. 'I he spirit .,f th.> earlv ..i;;ht.M.nth .-..ntur k's

-'•n eai.fiht to p.Tfeetion, an.l tra.,sf..rr(.l to every „•,«' (C

, . '■'■'• ^'.'''^ ^'-^ ^'"^ iniiMils.^s and niotiv.>H an inatinK

Imman b.m^rs an- the same now a-s then." -/W,.« 7'm,r '

I '.the eharm ,,f a story well r,,.i.vive.! an.! eleverlv P^jd is
.idd.-d th.. nt.'rest of ..hara.-ters that until now hav.. h..en'unusual
ui pn;sent^-day firtion." — Xrw y„rk />,;.<,.

n ' I<roe to Serve ' w.; h^.v.. a hook that riseH from out of
tin'" Ti! pT) '/,"'';'•"''■••i^v m„l an.ply deserves eotiMderu-
won. — ific rhuaddphw, American.

L. C. PAGE ^ COMPANY'S

!;.

THE CHRONICLES OF MADELYN MACK

\\s III I. II C. VVtiu.

Cloth, 12TI10, illiiHtrattx] $1.60

Lovers (ii ranid action, inncnioiifl situationa and cxciteujcnt
will finil alHiiiilaiit cntcrtaiiiiiicut in follinviiiR tin- ailvrnturrs
anil can«r of Miidtlyii Muck —a vtritahic wizard at her trado

— tiic heroine of this cli'Vcr and wtraiKht forward detective novel.
Her career is l)riinfiil o' exeiteincMt, one eontiiuioiw scries of
adverilures, which constitute a tale of Hwill and dramatic action.
Clever in |)'ot and elliclivu in Htyle, th(! author lias Hci/ed on
some of the most Hcn.sational feaiurcH of niodern life, and the
reader wiio lia.s a (train of fancy «ir iiiia>iiiialion may be delicMi
to lay I hid hook down once ho haw begun it until the hiat worI '\a
readied.

MISS BILLY

Hv Kl.KANDIl II. I'oftTF.n.

cloth, l-\. , illusttaied. A'</ $1.25 (carria-io, 12c. extra)

" Hilly," i-i this instance, is tin' name of a very dainty and
pretty nirl wiih pink cheeks and a u<ailh of curly hair and ihc
Hweeti'sl of smiles. When you lirst mei t her in t!ie story she is
all that her name implies — an impulsive, warm-hearted (;irl()f
ei^ihlecn who <|Uite utiknow iniily succeeils ni completely npselliiift
the ijiiiet and di;;nity o*' the Heacon Street household oi the three
ilensh.iw boys, \vhi> had hitherto h\i<l an uneventful life in
'•'I'ho Strata," as lh(> old Hi -.^n mans in was fittiufilv termed
l)V Hertrani, the youngest of the brothers. Hut Hilly jirow.s up,
and .almost before she lier.self realizes it a romance has entered
her life -one of those charming; and refri'shmu romances which
r'rikc a sympathetic chord in the hearts of it.s readers and bring
l)ack fond memories of •' the ^' imoiir and joys of youth."

THE RED FOX'S SON

Hv Ijioah M. Dii.i.KY.

cloth, rimo. With a front isi);pco in color by .John Cioss $1..50

rictures(|ue Hharbazonia — a province of the H.dkiui peninsula

— is the setting for this sparl ling " /enda " novel, which (|uito
Burpa.s.ses the regulation story of modi rn mystery and ad\entun\
when the da.shing voung American goes to the niytliic.al, but
interesting Halkan State, and creates havoc in the he.irts of the
Slavs, himself becoming a slave to the beautiful princes.^ of the
country. It is a romance rich in exciting detail, ami ha.s glamour,
dash, vivacity and siiirit of the most ple.a.sing order. In every
page of ■■ Tiiu Red Fox'ri Son " the liction lover will find fascina-
ting reading.

A l:

**ST OF NEW FICTION

GEORGE THORNE

Hy NuKVAL KuiiAKDHOM, authof of the big Southern novel —

" Thi; \A^^^A of loiiour," already in its sixth large printing.

Frontwpiecc in full color, docorative jacket, cloth, 12iuo.

^, . . . . , A^t« ? 1.25 (carriage, 12c. extra)

Mr. IlicharoBon a new story is Blriking in thought and treat-
ment. Takiiig u man from the rubl)iHh heap of p<jvcrty, the
iiuthiT places him in Hurroiindings of wealth and refinement, and
then truces th*: elTect nf the new intluenceH upon his ehanu'ter.

Of " I'ht! Lead of Honour " the critics have written jw follows;

" ' The \a"X(\ of Honour ' cannot hut make those who reail ic
Ixlter pli-aned with life and with humanity (the which is nnich)."
— ChtciKjo IttlcT-Ocean.

" Mr. KichardHon h;w given u.s a story which is well worth
the perusal." — lionloii Triui'icrij)l.

" A Htory of much more than u.sual merit. It is seldom that
one turns away from a work of fiction with more reluctance to
p.irt comi)any with its people and with a greater impetus towards
one's own he.st." — UdMoh Ilirnlil.

" it is rarely that a love storj is written in these days that has
in it so nuich of pure and lofty sentiment, of so high ideals and
so absorbing in its romance that the reader for the time is lifted
out of him.self. it is a novel which re.nlly stands on a pinnacle
• IS contrasted with much of the current fiction of the day." —
Sprinijfwld i'nion.

" Mr. llichard.son has an excellent style, a pft of character-
drawing and much emotional iwwer." — Providence Journal.

DIONIS OF THE WHITE VEIL

Hy Cakoline Hrown, author of " Knights of Fustian," " On

the Wo- A Trail," etc.

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket . . . $1.50

A roniancc of the early days of the eighteenth century, with
the scenes for the most part laid in the region bordering the
MiK.sisHii)pi, from Ix^ui.siana north towards tlic Illinois country.

When the gay and handsome Chevalier Fauchet first seta eyes
u[)()n the heroine, Dionis Montfort, she ha.i entered upon her
r )viliate, and is to take the vows of a nun in less than a week's
time. Fauchet, a universal lover, g ..llant always, serious never,
is attracted by the demure and innccnt novice, at first because
of her b<-auty; but later when he realizes that it is real affection
he foel.s for the girl, the Chevalier detcrmini-s that the Church
must fight lum for her life's devotion. How fate throws the
two tor^ether, allowing love finally to triumph over the Church,
make-s a romance remarkable in its conaistent and absorbing
charm.

■U

ji-lil

ill!

;r It

if ' ^ '

Z. C. PAGE (&• COMPANY'S

THE CASE OF PAUL BREEN

By Anthony Tudor, LL.B.

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Henry Roth, decorative jacket.

$1.50

A positive, strong human novel, the storj' of an innocent man
caught in tin legal meshes of cin^umstanlial evidence. 'Jhe
plot ia new and its development most striking, while the story
is handled throughout in nuisterly a:!(' dignified fashion by a
writer whose style ia at all times convincing and forceful. He
h,w had the courage to go right to the heart of things, and bare
for his read(!rs' gaze the very souls of his ehtu-acters. It is a
powerful work — one which will probably be called a "bold
novel," and not only is it of intense interest, but it ifl a Btory
which furnishes mucU food for thought.

THE RED-HOT DOLLAR

Hy H. D. UUBSTAETTER.

Cioth decorative $1.00

For three reasons this httle book will arouse interest. First,
because of the stories themselves, next, because their author,
H. D. Uinbstaetter, is the founder and publisher of The Black
Cat, which, to quote the New York Trilnmc, " has done more for
short--!tory readers and short-story writers than any other
periodical," and last, but not least, because of the unique intro-
duction by Jack London. Only once in v long time do we come
across such a \mique collection of stories as Nlr. Umbstaetter's,
containing .as it does stories that are clever in conception, well-
written ami just the right length to be entertaining, and as Mr.
London ajjtly says, stories that are true Black Cat stories.

The stories, twelve in all, are so absorbingly int<'resting and so
unusual in the realm of fiction, embodying as they do amusing
ch.aracter sketches, tales of humor, pathos, invstery and adven-
ture, that they will vmdoubtedly appeal to a large clafis of readers
who are not attracted to the ordinary in fiction.

Selections from
L. C. Page and Company's
List of Fiction

WORKS OF

ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS

Each one vol., library l2ino, doth decorative . , $1.50

THE FLIGHT OF GEORGIANA

A Romance of the Days of the Young Prktender, Illus-
trated by H. C. S](l wards.

"A love-story in the highest rjcgree, a dashing story, and a re-
markably well hnished piece of work." — Chicayo liecord-IIerald.

THE BRIGHT FACE OF DANGER

lieing an account of some adventures of Henn de Laiuiay. son

of the hieur de la foumoire. Illustrate.l I H. C. Kdvvar.ls.

Mr. btephens nas fairly outdone himself. We thank him

I tily Ihe story IS nothing if not spirited and entertaining.

rational and convmcmg." — Boston. Transcript.

THE MYSTERY OF MURRAY DAVENPORT

(40th thousand.)
ThJ^I^ is. eiisily the best thing that Mr. Stephens has yet done.
Those familiar with hm other novels can best judge the meaaure
of this praise, which is generous." — Buffalo News.

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW

^f^Tr'^ol.^i^"' 7 Cheaps!de. (52d thousand.) A romance
other artist ^°^°'*- Illustrations by Howard Pyle and

Not since the absorbing adventurc-s of D'Artagnan have we had
anythmg so good in the blended vein of roman(S and comedy.

THE CONTINENTAL ])RAGOON

A Romance of Philipse Manor Hor . w 1778 faii
thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. RlwanJ ^

aentSlt^to^."'''' °' '^ Relation, ;v.a its 8cen«, laid on

l<5

■il

..'

'II

Z. C. PAGE &- COMPANY'S

, k r I

PHILIP WINWOOD

(7UtIi thousand.) A Sketch of the Domestic Hietory of nn
American Captain in the War of Independence, enibracmg
events that occurred between and during the years 1763 and
1785 in New York and London, lliuatrated by E. VV. D.
Hamilton.

AN ENEMY TO THE KING .

(70th thousand.) From the " Recently Discovered Memoirs
of the Sienr de la Tournoire." Ilhi.stralcd by II. De M. \ oung.
All historical romance of the Kixleenth century, descnbuig the

adventures of a young French nobl;>man at the court of Henry

111., and on the iield with Henry IV.

THE ROAD TO PARIS

A Story of AnvENTuiiK. {?.Ty\\\ thousand.) Illustrated by
H. C. Edwards. , .

An historical romance of the -eighteenth century, bemg an
account of the life of an American gentleman adventurer.

A GENTLEMAN PLAYER

His AuvKN'Ti iiKri on ,\ Secuet Mission rou QrEEN Et.iza-

nirni. ( ISlh thousand.) Illustrated by I'Vank 'V. Merrill.

The story of a young gentleman who joins Shakespeare s

coinpaiiy of players', and becomes a protrgc of the great poet.

CLEMENTINA'S HIGHWAYMAN

Cloth decorative, illustrated ■5'.'''*^

The storv is laid in the niid-Ceorgian period. It is a dashing,
sparkling, vivacious comedy, with a heroine as lovely and
cliangeable as an April day,' and u hero all ardor and darmg.

TALES FROM BOHEMIA

Illustrated by Wallace Cold.smith.

Cloth, decorative cover 1F1.50

Tlifse bright and clever tales deal with people of the theatre

and odd characters in other walks of life whieh fringe on Ho-

hemia.

A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE

By Robert Nkil.'^on Step'iien.s and Theodore Goodridor
RonERTs.

Cloth (liH'orative, with frontisi)iece in full color from a iiamt-
iim bv Frank T. Merrill ; . *••'''

" 'I'he plot shows invention and is dcveloiied with i)ri(;inality,
and there is incident iu abundauco." — Brooklyn Timts.

LIST OF F/CTlOir

WORKS OF

CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

HAUNTERS OF THE SILENCES

Cloth one volume with many drawings by Charles Livingston
Bull, four of wl)ich are in full color . $2 OO

The stories in iMr. Uoberta's new coUectionare the strongest and
best he has ever written.

lie haa largely taken for his subjects those animals rarely met
with in books, wliose lives are spent " Inlho Silences." where (hey
are the supreme rulers. Mr. Roberts has written of tliem symr)a-
Ihetically, as always, l)ut with fine regard for the scientific truth.
• As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable
place, lie is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative
and vivid of all the nature writers." — Brooklyn Eagle.

RED FOX

The Story of His AnvENTTTnous Career in the Ringwaak
Wilds, and of Ilis Final Triumph over the Enemies of
His Kind. With fifty illustrations, includ'ip frontispiece in
color and cover desi^i l)y Cliarlos Livingston Bull.

Sfjuare quarto, doth decorative S;2.0()

" True in sul)stance but fascinating as fiction. It will interest
old and young, city-bounil and free-footed, those who know ani-
mals and those who do not." — Chicago Record-Herald.

" A brilliant chapter in natural history." — Philadelphia North
Ainerican.

THE KINDRED OF THE WILD

A Rook of Animal Life. With fifty-one full-page plates and
many decorations from drawings by Charles Livingston Bull

Stiuare quarto, decorative cover $2.00

" Is in m.iny ways the most brilliant collection of animal stories
that has appeared; well named and well done." — John Bur-
roughs.

THE WATCHERS OF THE TRAILS

A companion volume to " The Kindred of the Wild." With
torty-eight lull-page plates and many decorations from draw-
ings by Charles Livingston Bull.
Square quarto, decorative cover ..... S2.00

11
I
i
I

L. C. PAGE b- COMPANY'S

" These stories are exquisite in tlioir refinement, and y»t robust
in their ai)iiii.'ciatiun of some of thu nnighti phases of woodcraft.
Amonj; the many writers about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies tax
enviable i)lace." — The OnUook.

" This is a book full of deliuht. An adiitional charm lies in Mr.
Hull's faithful and graphic iliusi rat ions, whiih in fashion all their
own tel! t lie story of the wild life, illuminating and supplementing
the i>en pictures of the author." — Lilerury Digest.

THE HOUSE m THE WATER

With thirty fuU-iumc ilhhst rat ions by Charles T.ivingston lUiU
and l"r:\nk Viiiitit; Smith. Cover design and decorations by
Charljs l.i\in;.'sion IVall.

12mo, rlolh decorative

$1.50

Every parat;rapli is a splendid jncturo, sugges, ing in a few
words tiie appeal of the vast, illimitable wilderuesa." — The
Chicago Tribune,

THE HEART THAT KNOWS

Library l-'mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50

" A novel (if singularly etTeciive strength, hmnnous in literary

color, rich in its passionate, yet tender drama." — New York Globe.

1:1

EARTH'S ENIGMAS

A new edition of Mr. Robert.s's first volume "f fiction, pub-
lished in 1S9-', and out of print for several years, with the addi-
tion of three new stories, and ten illustrations by Charles
Living.slon Hull.

Library l-'mo. cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50
" It will rank high among collections of short stories. In
' E.arth's Knigmas ' is a wider range of subject than in the ' Kin-
dred of the \\ ild.' " — Hcricm from wlrance sheets oj the iilustratcd
edition by i ^ijany Blak» in the Chicago Evening Post.

BARBARA LADD

With fotir illustratiris by Frank Verbeck.

Library I'Jmo, cloth, decor;iM\(; co^cr .... $1.50

" From the ojiening chapter Im the fin^d page Mr. Roberts lures

us on by his rnjit devoti(>n to the ch.mging aspects of Nature and

by his keen and sympathetic analysis of human character." —

Boston Transcript-

LIST OF FICTIOJ^

CAMERON OF LOCHIEL

Translated from the Frencli of I'liilippe Aubert de Gasp^, with

frontispiece in color by II. C. Edwunls.

Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50

" Professor Roberts deserves the thanks of his reader for giving
a wider audience an opportunity to enjoy this striking bit of
French Canadian hterature." — bruuklijn Ewjk.

TP- PRISONER OF MADEMOISELLE

ith frontispiece by Frank T. Merrill.

Liibrary l2ino, cloth decorative SI. 50

A tale of Acadia, — a land wliich is the author's heart's delight,

— of a valiant young lieutenant and a winsome maiden, who first

captures and then captivates.

THE HEART OF THE ANCIENT WOOD

With six illustrations by James L. Weston.

Library 12mo, decorative cover . . . , $1.50

" One of the most fascinatmg novels of recent days." — Boston
Journal.

" A classic twentieth-century romance." — A^ew York Commer-
cial Advertiser.

THE FORGE IN THE FOREST

Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer,
Seigneur de Uriart, and how he crossed t!ie Black .\bl)6, and
of his adventures in a strange fellowship. Illustrated by llenry
Sandham, H. C \.

Library Timo, cloth decorative $1.50

A story of pure love and heroic adventure.

BY THE MARSHES OF MINAS

Library 12mo, cloth docorntivo, illustrated . SI. 50

Most of these romances are in the autho.'s lighter and more

playful vein; each is a unit of absorbing interest and exquisite

workmanship.

A SISTER TO EVANGELINE

Being the Story of Yvonne dr Lamourie, and how she went into
exile with the villagers of (liand Pre.

Library 12mo, cloth decontive, illustrated . . . $1.50
Swift action, fresh atmospliere, whole-nine purity, deep pas-
Bion, and searching analysis characterize this strong novel.

Z. C. PAGE &> COMPANY'S

.n.

WORKS OF

L. M. MONTGOMERY

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Illiistnled by M. A. and \\ . A. J. Chuis. 12iiio . S!1.50
" Aiiiie of (ireen (jahlcs " id beyond <iui'«lioii tlit,' iiioHt popu-
lar ^iil htToino in recent yeurs. I'oets, statcsiiicn, Iitiniuri.slH,
crilicri, ;i!id the great imbiic li;i\e lott their heurtd to tlie cljanii-
ini^ Anne. " Anne of (Ireen ( lables " ia not a book of a .seuKon,
to attain a wide p(j|)ularity for a brief space and «ink into ob-
livion with many another " Ijewt seller," but its nu'rit is such
that it id bound to have a [)erniancnt i)lace in literature.

" In 'Anne of (ireen (iables' you will liiid the dearest and
ino.st moving and delightful . child since the iiuniorlal Alice."
— Mark Twain in a Liter to Francis Wilsun.

ANNE OF AVONLEA

Illustrated by George Cdbbs. 12mo . . $1 SO

In this volume .\nnc i.-? iis fascinating as ever, and the author
has iiitroiluced se\eral new characters.

" Here wo have a book as human .as ' David Ilarum,' a
heroine whooutcharias a dozen princesses of llction, and reminds
}'ou of some sweet girl you know, or knew back in the days
when the world was young." — Saii Franiinco liulitlin.

" A book to lift the s])irit and send the pessimist into bank-
ruptcy! " — Meredith Nicholson.

THE STORY GIRL

lllastrated by George r.ibbs. t2mo . . . $1.50

" .\ book that holds one's interest and keeps a kindly smile
upon one's lipa and in one's heart as well." — Chicago Jnkr-
Ociiin.

" The book is full of sprightly humor, the (|uaint conceits
and the genuine understainhng of youth, wliich mark so ex-
cellently the various chronicles of .\.\.\k." — Sue York Worlil.

KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD

Illustrated by George Gibbs. i2mo . $1.50

" A story horn in the heart of .\rcadia and brimful of the

sweet and simple life of the primitive environment." — Hns-

toii H<rald.

" .\ story of decidedly unusuil conception ami interest,

and will rival this author's earlier works in jiopularity." —

Kalamazoo Evening Press,

LtST OF F/CT/OJ\r

WORKS OF

LILIAN BELL

\\'\

Keith.

CAROLINA LEE

With a frontispiece in color by Dori

Library 12rno, cloth, decorativu cover «i Kn

w/ ,''''■"""''' .f'"'"'^^'^^' "^ ^'«'' 'ittractive life of the'Soiith

HOPE LORING

Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill.

Library 12ino, cloth, decorative cover . «i r,o

lall, slender, and athletic, fragile-looking, yet wi'h nerves

and smews of steel under the velvet flesh, frank La boy ». J

tender an.l beautiful as a woman, free and independent yet not

bold - such 13 ' Hope Loring.' " — DoroUuj dL ^

ABROAD WITH THE JIMMIES

\Vith a portrait in duogravure, of the author,

Lilmiry 12mo, cloth, decorative cover jj 50

rl>L'^ r^°"^'' 0'"/"fP' "f S'"/?"-. of swing and momentum."
— LIucago Evening Post.

AT HOME WITH THE JARDINES

Library 12mo, cloth, derorative cover . j] 50

:« I. I V^ I ^''^•'^ iiiimo'-, sunny, whimsical philosophy, and keen
in.lu b.table insight into the less evident 'spects and workings
of pure hujnan nature, with a slemler thread of a cleverfy

THE CONCENTRATIONS OF BEE

With colored frontispiece

Li?)rar.v 12rno, cloth, decorative cover jj 50

^hc ! i*^ ' ""' ^'•'^•'■'"'''^f "<""<-» "Titers of fiction is Lilian Bell
bu^no f'nM ""^ t^t-^'"""'^'^'- r'^'-. "1^1 -»'>UKh to have experience,'
- ■ IMS A.ngeies r.x press.

"^^^^T^^^^^^^^CE OF PATRICIA AND A
BOOK OF GIRLS

With a frontispiece from drawing by Frank T Merrill
liibrary I2mo. eloth, decorative cover ' ju 50

variation!! S'^ilvf '^l^ understands girls, for she depicts all the
variations of giri nature so charmingly. " — C^rca^o Journal

L. C. r.lGE &• COAfPAA'yS

•^ti

:^:

WOIUCS OF

THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS

A CAPTAIN OF RALEIGH'S

Libnirv IJnio. With a frontispiece in full color from a paint-
inn by John (Joss Jl.oO

" A Htronj;, .stnuKhtforward tale of love and adventure, wdl

wortii reading-" — Sprin<ifnlil I'nion.

" it is a romance of dean, wanii-heartetl devotion to friends

and to duty." — Sdlt Lake City Trihiine.

" The Htory in delineating eharactcra and in the portrayal of

events makes it the best tale the author has yet written." —

Crand liainds Herald.

A CAVALIER OF VIRGINIA

Library 12mo. Illustrate*! by Louis D. Cowing $150

The action is always swift and romantic and the love is of
tlie ivinii that thrills the re;ider. The characters are admirably
drawn and the reader follows w ith deep interest the adventures
of the two young peoi)le." - linlUriiorc Sun.

" A stirring story combining love and adventure." — Brook-
lyn Eagle.

" The interest of the first chapter heightens as the story pro-
gresses, and when one finishes the tale it is with regret that it is
not raucli l()iig(!r." — B'i>ito:i I'i'nL

" .\ fine romantii! presentation of the old days in pioneer
Virginia — heroic adventures, pure love and generous hospital-

itv.

Boston T:nii:s.

HEMMING, THE ADVENTURER

Library 12mo. With six illustrations by A. G. Lamed $1 50
" A remarkable interpretation of the nomadic war corre-
spondent's life." - iV. >'. Evfitiiiij Post.

" Its ea.se of style, its rapidity, its interest from page to page,
are admirable; and it siiows that inimitable power — the
story-teller's gift of verisimilitude. Its sureness and clearness
are excellent." — Tiie Itcailer.

BROTHERS OF PERIL

Library 12rao. With four il!usirations in color by H. C.

^f'wards $1 50

.\ t;ile of Newfoundland in the sixteenth centurv, and of the
now extinct Beothic Indians who lived there.

" .\n original and •d)sorbing story. A dashing storv with a
historical turn. Th ( is no lack of excitement or action in it,
;dl bemg described ia vigorous, striking style." — Bo4on Tran-
acrijd.