GIFT OF 
 
 b 
 
I 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 ^ : Al . ( 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Emperor of the Woods 
 
 By 
 
 I rvi ng Bacheller 
 
 Author of " Eben Holden " " Vergilius " 
 " Darrell of the Blessed Isles " etc. 
 
 And a little child shall lead them 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 New York and London 
 
 Harper r Brothers Publishers 
 
 1906 
 
Copyright, 1906, by IRVING BACHELI.ER. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 Published March, 1906. 
 
13 M 
 
 $ 
 
 To my friend the late 
 Archer Brown 
 
 in memory of summer days when we 
 wandered far and sat down to rest by 
 springs and brooks in the doomed empire of 
 Strong and talked of saving it and of better 
 times and knew not they were impossible. 
 
Foreword 
 
 \ 
 
 SOME of the people of these pages, when the 
 author endeavored to regulate their conduct ac 
 cording to well-known rules of literary construc 
 tion, declared themselves free and independent. 
 When, urged by him, they tried to speak and act 
 in the fashion of most novels, they laughed, and 
 seemed to be ashamed of themselves, and with good 
 reason. 
 
 They are slow, stubborn, modest, shy, and used 
 to the open. Not for them are the narrow stage, 
 the swift action, the fine-wrought chain of artful 
 incident that characterize a modern romance. 
 
 Of late authors have succeeded rather well in 
 turning people into animals and animals into 
 people. Why not, if one s art can perform 
 miracles? This book aims not to emulate or 
 amend the work of the Creator. Its people are 
 just folks of a very old pattern, its animals rather 
 common and of small attainments. It is in no 
 sense a literary performance. It pretends to be 
 
 vii 
 
Foreword 
 
 nothing more than a simple account of one sum 
 mer s life, pretty much as it was lived, in a part 
 of the Adirondacks . It goes on about as things 
 happen there, with a leisurely pace, like that of 
 the woods lover on a trail who may be halted by 
 nothing more than a flower or a bird-song. One 
 day follows another in the old fashion of those 
 places where men go for rest and avarice quits 
 them with bloody spurs and they forget the calendar 
 and measure time on the dial of the heavens. 
 
 The book has one high ambition. It has tried 
 to tell the sad story of the wilderness itself to 
 show, from the woodsman s view-point, the play of 
 great forces which have been tearing down his 
 home and turning it into the flesh and bone of 
 cities. 
 
 Were it to cause any reader to value what re 
 mains of the forest above its market-price and to 
 do his part in checking the greed of the saws, it 
 would be worth while bad as it is. 
 
OF THE 
 
 | UNIVERSITY 
 
 Silas Strong 
 
 HE song of the saws began long 
 ago at the mouths oi the rivers. 
 Slowly the axes gnawed their way 
 southward, and the ominous, pro 
 phetic chant followed them. Men 
 seemed to goad the rivers to increase their 
 speed. They caught and held and harnessed 
 them as if they had been horses and drove them 
 into flumes and leaped them over dams and 
 pulled and hauled and baffled them until they 
 broke away with the power of madness in their 
 rush. But, even then, the current of the rivers 
 would not do ; the current of thunderbolts could 
 not have whirled the wheels with speed enough. 
 Now steam bursts upon the piston-head with 
 the power of a hundred horses. The hungry 
 steel races through columns of pine as if they 
 were soft as butter and its bass note booms 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 night and day to the heavens. Hear it now. 
 The burden of that old song is m-o-r-e, m-o-r-e, 
 m-o-r-e ! 
 
 It is doleful music, God knows, but, mind 
 you, it voices the need of the growing land. 
 It sings of the doom of the woods. It may be 
 heard all along the crumbling edge of the wil 
 derness from Maine to Minnesota. Day by day 
 hammers beat time while the saws continue 
 their epic chorus. 
 
 There are towers and spires and domes and 
 high walls where, in our boyhood, there were 
 only trees far older than the century, and these 
 rivers that flow north go naked in open fields 
 for half their journey. Every spring miles of 
 timber come plunging over cataracts and rush 
 ing through rapids and crowding into slow water 
 on its way to the saws. There a shaft of pine 
 which has been a hundred years getting its 
 girth is ripped into slices and scattered upon the 
 stack in a minute. A new river, the rushing, 
 steam-driven river of steel, bears it away to the 
 growing cities. Silas Strong once wrote in his old 
 memorandum-book these words: "Strong says 
 to himself seems so the world was goin to be 
 peeled an hollered out an weighed an measured 
 an sold till it s all et up like an apple." 
 
 2 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 On the smooth shore of the river below Ra- 
 quette Falls, and within twenty rods of his great 
 mill, lived a man of the name of Gordon with two 
 motherless children. Pity about him! Married 
 a daughter of Bill" Strong up in the woods 
 an excellent woman made money and wasted 
 it and went far to the bad. Good fellow, drink, 
 poker, and so on down the hill! His wife died 
 leaving two children blue - eyed little people 
 with curly, flaxen hair a boy of four a girl of 
 nearly three years. The boy s full name was 
 John Socksmith Gordon reduced in familiar 
 parlance to Socky. The girl was baptized Susan 
 Bradbury Gordon, but was called Sue. 
 
 Their Uncle Silas Strong came to the funeral 
 of their mother. He had travelled more than 
 eighty miles in twenty-four hours, his boat now 
 above and now beneath him. He brought his 
 dog and rifle, and wore a great steel watch-chain 
 and a pair of moccasins with fringe on the sides, 
 and a wolf -skin jacket. He carried the children 
 on his shoulders and tossed them in the air, while 
 his great size and odd attire seemed to lay -hold 
 of their spirits. 
 
 As time passed, a halo of romantic splendor 
 gathered about this uncle s memory. One day 
 Socky heard him referred to as the " Emperor of 
 
 3 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the Woods." He was not long finding out that 
 an emperor was a very grand person who wore 
 gold on his head and shoulders and rode a fine 
 horse and was always ready for a fight. So 
 their ideal gathered power and richness, one 
 might say, the longer he lived in their fancy. 
 They loved their father, but as a hero he had 
 not been a great success. There was a time 
 when both had entertained some hope for him, 
 but as they saw how frequently he grew " tired" 
 they gave their devotion more and more to this 
 beloved memory. Their uncle s home was re 
 mote from theirs, and so his power over them 
 had never been broken by familiarity. 
 
 Socky and Sue told their young friends all 
 they had been able to learn of their Uncle Silas, 
 and, being pressed for more knowledge, had re 
 course to invention. Stories which their father 
 had told grew into wonder-tales of the riches, 
 the strength, the splendor, and the general de 
 structive power of this great man. Sue, the 
 first day she went to Sunday-school, when the 
 minister inquired who slew a lion by the strength 
 of his hands, confidently answered, "Uncle 
 Silas." 
 
 There was one girl in the village who had an 
 Uncle Phil with a fine air of authority and a 
 
 4 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 wonderful watch and chain; there was yet an 
 other with an Uncle Henry, who enjoyed the dis 
 tinction of having had the small-pox; there was 
 a boy, also, who had an Uncle Reuben with a 
 wooden leg and a remarkable history, and a wen 
 beside his nose with a wart on the same. But 
 these were familiar figures, and while each had 
 merits of no low degree, their advocates were 
 soon put to shame by the charms of that myste 
 rious and remote Uncle Silas. 
 
 There was a little nook in the lumber-yard 
 where children used to meet every Saturday for 
 play and free discussion. There, now and then, 
 some new-comer entered an uncle in the com 
 petition. There, always, a primitive pride of 
 blood asserted itself in the remote descendants, 
 shall we say, of many an ancient lord and 
 chieftain. One day Sue was then five and 
 Socky six years of age Lizzie Cornell put a 
 cousin on exhibit in this little theatre of child 
 hood. He was a boy with red hair and superior 
 invention from out of town. He stood near 
 Lizzie a deep and designing miss and said 
 not a word, until Sue began about her Uncle 
 Silas. 
 
 It was a new tale of that remarkable hunter 
 which her father had related the night before 
 
 5 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 while she lay waiting for the sandman. She told 
 how her uncle had seen a panther one day when 
 he was travelling without a gun. His dog chased 
 the panther and soon drove him up a tree. Now, 
 it seemed, the only thing in the nature of a 
 weapon the hunter had with him was a piece of 
 new rope for his canoe. After a moment s re 
 flection the great man climbed the tree and 
 threw a noose over the panther s neck while 
 his faithful dog was barking below. Then the 
 cute Uncle Silas made his rope fast to a limb and 
 shook the tree so that when the panther jumped 
 for the ground he hung himself. 
 
 To most of those who heard the narrative it 
 seemed to be a rather creditable exploit, showing, 
 as it did, a shrewdness and ready courage of no 
 mean order on the part of Uncle Silas. Murmurs 
 of glad approval were hushed, however, by the 
 voice of the red-headed boy. 
 
 "Pooh! that s nothing," said he, with con 
 tempt. " My Uncle Mose chased a panther once 
 an overtook him and ketched him by the tail 
 an fetched his head agin a tree, quick as a 
 flash, an knocked his brains out." 
 
 His words ran glibly and showed an off-hand 
 mastery of panthers quite unequalled. Here was 
 an uncle of marked superiority and promise. 
 
 6 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 There was a moment of silence in the crowd. 
 
 "If ye don t believe it," said the red-headed 
 boy, " I can show ye a vest my mother made out 
 o the skin." 
 
 That was conclusive. Sue blushed for shame 
 and looked into the face of Socky. Her mouth 
 drooped a little and her under lip trembled with 
 anxiety. Doubt, thoughtfulness, and confusion 
 were on the face of her brother. He scraped the 
 sand with his foot. He felt that he had some 
 times stretched the truth a little, but this this 
 went beyond his capacity for invention. 
 
 "Don t believe it," he whispered, with half a 
 sneer as he glanced down at Sue. 
 
 Lizzie Cornell began to titter. All eyes were 
 fixed upon the unhappy pair as if to say, " How 
 about your Uncle Silas now?" The populace, 
 deserting the standard of the old king, gathered 
 in front of the red-headed boy and began to 
 inquire into the merits of Uncle Mose. 
 
 Socky and Sue hesitated. Curiosity struggled 
 with resentment. Slowly and thoughtfully they 
 walked away. For a moment neither spoke. 
 Soon a cheering thought came into the mind of 
 Sue. 
 
 "Maybe Uncle Silas has ketched a panther 
 by the tall, too," said she, hopefully. Socky, 
 
 7 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 his hands in his pockets, looked down with a 
 dazed expression. 
 
 "I m going to ask father," said he, thought 
 fully. 
 
 It was now late in the afternoon. They went 
 home and sat in silence on the veranda, watching 
 for their father. The old Frenchwoman who 
 kept house for him tried to coax them in, but 
 they would make no words with her. Long they 
 sat there looking wistfully down the river-bank. 
 
 Presently Sue hauled out of her pocket a tiny 
 rag doll which she carried for casual use. It 
 came handy in moments of loneliness and de 
 spair outside the house. She toyed with its 
 garments, humming in a motherly fashion. It 
 was nearly dark when they saw their father 
 staggering homeward according to his habit. 
 They knew not yet the meaning of that waver 
 ing walk. 
 
 "There he comes!" said Socky, as they both 
 ran to meet him. " He can t carry us to-night. 
 He s awful tired." 
 
 They thought him "tired." They kissed him 
 and took his hands in theirs, and led him into 
 the house. Stern and silent he sat down beside 
 them at the supper-table. The children were 
 also silent and sober-faced from intuitive sym- 
 
 8 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 pathy. They could not yet introduce the topic 
 which weighed upon them. 
 
 Socky looked at his father. For the first time 
 he noted that his clothes were shabby; he knew 
 that a few days before his father had lost his 
 watch. The boy stole away from the table, and 
 went to his little trunk and brought the sacred 
 thing which his teacher had given him Christ 
 mas Day a cheap watch that told time with a 
 noisy and inspiring tick. He laid it down by 
 his father s plate. 
 
 " There," said he, "I m going to let you wear 
 my watch." 
 
 It was one of those deep thrusts which only 
 the hand of innocence can administer. Richard 
 Gordon took the watch in his hand and sat a 
 moment looking down. The boy manfully re 
 sumed his chair. 
 
 "It don t look very well for you to be going 
 around without a watch," he remarked, taking 
 up his piece of bread and butter. 
 
 His father put the watch in his pocket. 
 
 "You can let me wear it Sundays," the boy 
 added. "You won t need it Sundays." 
 
 A smile overspread the man s face. 
 
 The children, quick to see their opportunity, 
 approached him on either side. Sue put her 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 arms around the neck of her father and kissed 
 him. 
 
 " Tell us a story about Uncle Silas," she pleaded. 
 
 "Uncle Silas!" he exclaimed. "We re all go 
 ing to see him in a few days." 
 
 The children were mute with surprise. Sue s 
 little doll dropped from her hands to the floor. 
 Her face changed color and she turned quickly, 
 with a loud cry, and drummed on the table so 
 that the dishes rattled. Socky leaned over the 
 back of a chair and shook his head, and gave his 
 feet a fling and then recovered his dignity. 
 
 "Now don t get excited," remarked their fa 
 ther. 
 
 They ran out of the room, and stood laughing 
 and whispering together for a moment. Then 
 they rushed back. 
 
 "When are we going?" the boy inquired. 
 
 " In a day or two," said Gordon, who still sat 
 drinking his tea. 
 
 Sue ran to tell Aunt Marie, the housekeeper, 
 and Socky sat in his little rocking-chair for a 
 moment of sober thought. 
 
 "Look here, old chap," said Gordon, who was 
 wont to apply the terms of mature good- fellow 
 ship to his little son. Socky came and stood by 
 the side of his father. 
 
 10 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "You an I have been friends for some time, 
 haven t we?" was the strange and half-maudlin 
 query which Gordon put to his son. 
 
 The boy smiled and came nearer. 
 
 "An I ve always treated ye right ain t I? 
 Answer me." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, folks say you re neglected an that you 
 don t have decent clothes an that you might as 
 well have no father at all. Now, old boy, I m 
 going to tell you the truth; I m broke failed 
 in business, an have had to give up. Understand 
 me; I haven t a cent in the world." 
 
 The man smote his empty pocket suggestive 
 ly. The boy was now deeply serious. Not able 
 to comprehend the full purport of his father s 
 words, he saw something in the face before him 
 which began to hurt. His lower lip trembled a 
 little. 
 
 "Don t worry, old friend," said Gordon, clap 
 ping him on the shoulder. 
 
 Just then Sue came running back. 
 
 "Say," said she, climbing on a round of her 
 father s chair, "did Uncle Silas ever ketch a 
 panther by the tail?" 
 
 The children held their breaths waiting for the 
 answer. 
 
 ii 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Ketch a panther by the tail!" their fa 
 ther exclaimed. "Whatever put that in your 
 head?" 
 
 Sue answered with some show of excitement. 
 Her words came fast. 
 
 " Lizzie Cornell s cousin he said that his Uncle 
 Mose had ketched a panther by the tail an* 
 knocked his brains out." 
 
 Their father smiled again. 
 
 "That kind o floored ye, didn t it, old girl?" 
 said he, with a kiss. "Le s see," he continued, 
 drawing the children close on either side of him. 
 "I don know as he ever ketched a panther by 
 the tail, but I ll tell ye what he did do. One 
 day when he hadn t any gun with him he come 
 acrost a big bear, an Uncle Sile fetched him a 
 cuff with his fist an broke the bear s neck, an 
 then he brought him home on his back an et 
 him for dinner." 
 
 "Oh!" the girl exclaimed, her mouth and eyes 
 wide open. 
 
 Socky whistled a shrill note of surprise and 
 thankfulness. Then he clucked after the man 
 ner of one starting his horse. 
 
 "My stars!" he exclaimed, and so saying he 
 skipped across the floor and brought his fist 
 down heavily upon the lounge. Uncle Silas had 
 
 12 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 been saved plucked, as it were, from the very 
 jaws of obscurity. 
 
 When they were ready to get into bed the chil 
 dren knelt as usual before old Aunt Marie, the 
 housekeeper. Sue ventured to add a sentence 
 to her prayer. " God bless Uncle Silas, " said she, 
 "and make him very very " 
 
 The girl hesitated, trying to find the right 
 word. 
 
 "Powerful," her brother suggested, still in the 
 attitude of devotion. 
 
 " Powerful," repeated Sue, in a trembling voice, 
 and then added: "for Christ s sake. Amen." 
 
 They lay a long time discussing what they 
 should say and do when at last they were come 
 into the presence of the great man. Suddenly a 
 notion entered the mind of Socky that, in order 
 to keep the favor of fortune, he must rise and 
 clap his hand three times upon the round top of 
 the posts at the foot of the bed. Accordingly he 
 rose and satisfied this truly pagan impulse. 
 
 Then he repeated the story of his uncle and 
 the bear over and over again, pausing thought 
 fully at the point of severest action and add 
 ing a little color to heighten the effect. Here 
 and there Sue prompted him, and details arose 
 which seemed to merit careful consideration. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I wouldn t wonder but what Uncle Silas 
 must a spit on his hand before he struck the 
 bear," said Socky, remembering how strong 
 men often prepared themselves for a difficult 
 undertaking. 
 
 When the story had been amplified, in a gen 
 erous degree, and well committed to memory, 
 they began to talk of Lizzie Cornell and her 
 cousin, the red-headed boy, and planned how 
 they would seek them out next day and defy 
 them with the last great achievement of their 
 Uncle Silas. 
 
 "He s a nasty thing," the girl exclaimed, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " I feel kind o sorry for him," said Socky, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Cos he thinks his uncle beats the world an 
 he ain t nowhere." 
 
 "Maybe he ll want to fight," said Sue. 
 
 "Then I ll fetch him a cuff." 
 
 " S pose you was to break his neck?" 
 
 "I ll hit him in the breast," said Socky, 
 thoughtfully, feeling his muscle. 
 
 Sue soon fell asleep, but Socky lay thinking 
 about his father. He had crossed the edge of the 
 beginning of trouble. He thought of those words 
 
 14 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and of a certain look which accompanied 
 them "I haven t got a cent in the world." 
 What did they mean? He could only judge 
 from experience from moments when he had 
 stood looking through glass windows and show 
 cases at things which had tempted him and 
 which he had not been able to enjoy. Oh, the 
 bitter pain of it! Must his father endure that 
 kind of thing? He lay for a few moments 
 weeping silently. 
 
 All at once the thought of his little bank came 
 to him. It was nearly full of pennies. He rose 
 in bed and listened. The room was dark, but 
 he could hear Aunt Marie at work in the kitchen. 
 That gave him courage, and he crept stealthily 
 out of bed and went to his trunk and felt for the 
 little square house of painted tin with a slot in 
 the chimney. It lay beneath his Sunday clothes, 
 and he raised and gently shook it. He could 
 hear that familiar and pleasant sound of the 
 coin. 
 
 Meanwhile his father had been sitting alone. 
 For weeks he had been rapidly going downhill. 
 His friends had all turned against him. He had 
 been fairly stoned with reproaches. He could 
 see only trouble behind, disgrace before, and 
 despair on either side. He held a revolver in 
 
 15 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 his hand. A child s voice rang out in the si 
 lence, calling " father." 
 
 Gordon leaned forward upon the table. He 
 began to be conscious of things beyond himself. 
 He heard the great mill-saw roaring in the still 
 night ; he heard the tick of the clock near him. 
 Suddenly his little son peered through the half- 
 open door. 
 
 "Father," Socky whispered. 
 
 Gordon started from his chair, and, seeing the 
 boy, sat down again. 
 
 Socky was near crying but restrained himself. 
 Without a word he deposited his bank on the 
 table. It was a moment of solemn renunciation. 
 He was like one before the altar giving up the 
 vanities of the world. He looked soberly at his 
 father and said, "I m going to give you all my 
 money." 
 
 Gordon said not a word and there was a mo 
 ment of silence. 
 
 "More than a dollar in it, "the boy suggested, 
 proudly. 
 
 Still his father sat resting his head upon his 
 hand in silence while he seemed to be trying the 
 point of a pen. 
 
 " You may give me five cents if you ve a mind 
 to when you open it," Socky added. 
 
 16 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Gordon turned slowly and kissed the forehead 
 of his little son. The boy put his arms around 
 the neck of his father and begged him to come 
 and lie upon the bed and tell a story. 
 
 So it happened the current of ruin was turned 
 aside the heat - oppressed brain diverted from 
 its purpose. For as the man lay beside his 
 children he began to think of them and less of 
 himself. " I cannot leave them," he concluded. 
 "When I go I shall take them with me." 
 
 In the long, still hours he lay thinking. 
 
 The south wind began to stir the pines, and 
 cool air from out of the wild country came 
 through an open window. Fathoms of dusty, 
 dead air which had hung for weeks over the 
 valley, growing hotter and more oppressive in 
 the burning sunlight, moved away. A cloud 
 passing northward flung a sprinkle of rain upon 
 the broad, smoky flats and was drained before it 
 reached the great river. All who were sick and 
 weary felt the ineffable healing of the woodland 
 breeze. It soothed the aching brain of the mill- 
 owner and slackened the ruinous toil of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 Gordon slept soundly for the first time in al 
 most a month. 
 
II 
 
 EXT morning Gordon felt better. 
 
 He began even to consider what 
 
 he could do to mend his life. 
 The children got ready for 
 
 Sunday-school and were on their 
 way to church an hour ahead of time. Sue, in 
 her white dress and pretty bonnet, walked with a 
 self-conscious, don t-touch-me air. Socky, in his 
 little sailor suit, had the downward eye of medi 
 tation. Each carried a Testament and looked 
 neither to right nor left. They hurried as if 
 eager for spiritual refreshment. They were, how 
 ever, like the veriest barbarians setting out with 
 spears and arrows in quest of revenge. They 
 were thinking of Lizzie Cornell and that boy of 
 the red head and the doomed uncle. Socky s 
 lips moved silently as he hurried. One might 
 have inferred that he was repeating his golden 
 text. Such an inference would have been far 
 from the truth. He was, in fact, tightening the 
 grasp of memory on those inspiring words : "an 
 
 18 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Uncle Sile fetched him a cuff with his fist an* 
 broke the bear s neck, an then he brought him 
 home on his back an et him for dinner." They 
 joined a group of children who were sitting on 
 the steps of the old church. Their hearts beat 
 fast when they saw Lizzie coming with her 
 cousin, the red-headed boy. 
 
 A number went forth to meet the two. 
 
 "Tell us the badger story," said they to the 
 red-headed boy. 
 
 "Pooh! that ain t much," he answered, mod 
 estly. 
 
 "Please tell us," they insisted. 
 
 "Wai, one day my Uncle Mose see a side-hill 
 badger " 
 
 "What s a side -hill badger?" a voice inter 
 rupted. 
 
 "An animal what lives on a hill, an has legs 
 longer on one side than on t other, so t he can 
 run round the side of it," said he, glibly, and 
 with a look of pity for such ignorance. 
 
 "Go on with the story," said another voice. 
 
 "My Uncle Mose sat an watched one day up 
 in the limb of a tree above the hole of a badger. 
 By-an -by an ol he badger come out, an my 
 uncle dropped onto his back, an rode him round 
 an round the hill til he was jes tuckered out. 
 
 19 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Then Uncle Mose put a rope on his neck an tied 
 him to a tree, an the ol badger dug an dug 
 until they was a hole in the ground so big you 
 could put a house in it. An my uncle he got 
 an idee, an so one day he fetched him out to 
 South Colton an learnt him how to dig wells 
 an cellars, an bym-by the ol badger could earn 
 more money than a hired man." 
 
 "Shucks!" said Socky, turning upon his ad 
 versary with sneering, studied scorn. "That s 
 nothing!" 
 
 Then proudly stepping forward, he flung the 
 latest exploit of his Uncle Silas into the freckled 
 face of the red-headed boy. It stunned the able 
 advocate of old Moses Leonard a mighty hunter 
 in his time and there fell a moment of silence 
 followed by murmurs of applause. 
 
 The little barbarian Lizzie Cornell had be 
 gun to scent the battle and stood sharpening an 
 arrow. 
 
 "It s a lie," said the red-headed boy, recover 
 ing the power of speech. 
 
 " His father s a thief an a drunkard, anyway." 
 That was the arrow of Lizzie Cornell. 
 
 Socky had raised his fists to vindicate his 
 honor, when, hearing the remark about his father, 
 he turned quickly upon the girl who made it. 
 
 20 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 What manner of rebuke he would have ad 
 ministered, history is unable to record. The 
 minister had come. The children began to 
 scatter. Lizzie ^and her red-headed cousin ran 
 around the church. Socky and Sue stood with 
 angry faces. 
 
 Suddenly Socky leaned upon the church door 
 and burst into tears. He dimly comprehended 
 the disgrace which Lizzie had sought to put upon 
 him. The minister could not persuade him to 
 enter the church or to explain the nature of his 
 trouble. 
 
 When all had gone into Sunday-school, the boy 
 turned, wiping his eyes. Sue stood beside him, 
 a portrait of despair. 
 
 "Le s go home an tell our father," said she. 
 
 They started slowly, but as their indignation 
 grew their feet hurried. Neither spoke in the 
 long journey to their door. They ran through 
 the hall and rushed in upon their father who sat 
 reading. 
 
 "Oh, father!" said the girl, in excited tones; 
 " Lizzie Cornell says you re a thief an a drunk 
 ard." 
 
 Gordon rose and turned pale. 
 
 The hands and voices of the children were 
 ever raised against him. 
 
 21 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " It s a lie!" said he, turning away. 
 
 He stood a moment looking out of the window. 
 He must take them to some lonely part of the 
 wilderness and there make an end of his trouble 
 and of theirs. He turned to the children, saying, 
 " Right after dinner we ll start for the woods." 
 
 So it befell that in the afternoon of a Sunday 
 late in June, Socky and Sue, with all their effects 
 in a pack-basket, and their father beside them, 
 started in a spring- wagon over the broad, stony 
 terraces that lift southward into thickening 
 woods, on their way to great peril. 
 
 And so, too, it befell that in leaving home and 
 the tearful face of dear Aunt Marie, they were 
 sustained by a thought of that good and mighty 
 man whom they hoped soon to see their Uncle 
 Silas. 
 
 
Ill 
 
 HE day was hot and still. Slowly 
 they mounted the foot-hills be 
 tween meadows aglow with color. 
 The country seemed to flow ever 
 downward past their sleepy eyes 
 on its way to the great valley. The daisies 
 were like white foam on the slow cascade of Bow 
 man s Hill, and there were masses of red and 
 yellow which appeared to be drifting on the 
 flats. A driver sat on the front seat, and Gor 
 don behind with Socky and Sue. The little folk 
 chattered together and wearied their father with 
 queries about birds and beasts. By-and-by the 
 girl grew silent, her chin sank upon her breast, 
 and her head began to shake and sway as their 
 wagon clattered over the rough road. In a 
 moment Socky s head was nodding also, and the 
 feet of both swung limp below the wagon-seat. 
 They had seemed to sink and rise and struggle 
 and cry out in the silence, and were now as those 
 drowned beneath it. Gordon drew them tow- 
 
 23 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ards him and lifted their legs upon the cush 
 ioned wagon -seat. He sat thinking as they 
 rode. They had been hard on him those 
 creditors. He had not meant to steal, but only 
 to borrow that small sum which he had taken 
 out of the business in order to feed and clothe 
 the children who lay beside him. True, some 
 dollars of it had gone to buy oblivion a few 
 hours of unearned, of unholy relief. How else, 
 thought he, could he have stood the reproaches 
 of brutal men ? 
 
 They arrived at Tupper s Mill late in the after 
 noon. There Gordon found a canoe and made 
 ready. At this point the river turned like a 
 scared horse and ran east by south, around Tup- 
 per Ridge, in a wio^e loop, and, as if doubting 
 its way, slackened pace, and, wavering right and 
 left, moved slowly into the shade of the forest, 
 and then, as if reassured, went on at a full 
 gallop, leaping over the cliff at Fiddler s Falls. 
 Below, it turned to the north, and, seeming to 
 see its way at last, grew calm and crossed the 
 flats wearily, covered with foam. 
 
 Socky woke and rubbed his eyes when he 
 and his sister were taken out of the wagon. 
 Sue continued to sleep, although carried like a 
 sack of meal under the arm of the driver and 
 
 24 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 laid amidships on a blanket. Mr. Tupper, the 
 mill man, gave them a piece of meat which, out 
 of courtesy to the law, he called " mountain 
 lamb." With pack aboard and Socky on a 
 blanket in the bow, Gordon pushed his canoe 
 into the current. 
 
 All who journeyed to the Lost River country 
 from the neighborhood of Hillsborough arrived 
 at Tupper s late in the afternoon. There, gen 
 erally, they took canoe and paddled six miles 
 to a log inn at the head of the still water. But 
 as Gordon started from Tupper s Mill down 
 stream he had in mind a destination not on any 
 map of this world. Socky sat facing him, a little 
 hand on either gunwale. 
 
 Socky had thought often that day of the in 
 cident of the night before and of his father s 
 poverty. Now he looked him over from head 
 to foot. He saw the little steel chain fastened 
 to his father s waistcoat and leading into the 
 pocket where he knew that his own watch lay 
 hidden. The look of it gave him a feeling of 
 great virtue and satisfaction. 
 
 " Father, will you please tell me what time it 
 is?" he inquired. 
 
 Gordon removed the watch from his pocket. 
 "Half-past six. We ve got to push on." 
 3 2 5 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 It was fine to see that watch in his father s 
 hand. 
 
 "I m going to give it to you," said the boy, 
 soberly. "You can wear it Sundays an every 
 day." 
 
 Gordon looked into the eyes of his son. He 
 saw there the white soul of the little traveller 
 just entering upon the world. 
 
 "I m going to buy you some new clothes, too," 
 said Socky, now overflowing with generosity, 
 
 "Where 11 you get the money?" 
 
 "From my Uncle Silas." After a few mo 
 ments Socky added, "If I was Lizzie Cornell s 
 father I d give her a good whipping." 
 
 They rode in silence awhile, and soon the 
 boy lay back on his blanket looking up at the 
 sky. 
 
 "Father," said he, presently. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I m good to you, ain t I?" 
 
 "Very." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, and then the 
 boy added, "I love you." 
 
 Those words gave the man a new sense of 
 comfort. If he could have done so he would 
 have embraced his son and covered his face 
 with kisses. 
 
 26 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The sun had sunk low and they were entering 
 the edge of the night and the woodland. Soon 
 the boy fell asleep. The silence of the illimitable 
 sky seemed to be flooding down and delightful 
 sounds were drifting on its current. They had 
 passed the inn long ago and walls of fir and pine 
 were on either side of them. Gordon put into a 
 deep cove, stopping under the pine-trees with his 
 bow on a sand-bar. Then he let himself down, 
 stretching his legs on the canoe bottom and lying 
 back on his blanket. 
 
 For a long time he lay there thinking. He 
 had been a man of some refinement, and nature 
 had punished him, after an old fashion, for the 
 abuse of it with extreme sensitiveness. He had 
 come to the Adirondacks from a New England 
 city and married and gone into business. At 
 first he had prospered, and then he had begun 
 to go down. 
 
 He had been a lover of music and a reader of 
 the poets. As he lay thinking in the early dusk 
 he heard the notes of the wood-thrush. That 
 bird was like a welcoming trumpeter before the 
 gate of a palace ; it bade him be at home. Above 
 all he could hear the water song of Fiddler s Falls 
 the tremulous, organ bass of rock caverns upon 
 which the river drummed as it fell, the chorus of 
 
 27 
 
 OP 
 
 I UNIVERSITY ) 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the on -rushing stream and great overtones in the 
 timber. 
 
 Sound and rhythm seemed to be full of that 
 familiar strain so like a solemn warning : 
 
 A long time he sat hearing it. He began to 
 feel ashamed of his folly and awakened to the 
 inspiration of a new purpose. He rose and 
 looked about him. 
 
 When you enter a house you begin to feel the 
 heart of its owner. Something in the walls and 
 furnishings, something in the air is it a vibra 
 tion which dead things have gathered from the 
 living? bids you welcome or warns you to de 
 part. It is the true voice of the master. As 
 Gordon came into the wilderness he felt like one 
 returning to his father s house. In this great 
 castle the heart of its Master seemed to speak to 
 him with a tenderness fatherly and unmistak 
 able. 
 
 28 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 A subtle force like that we find in houses built 
 with hands now bade him welcome. " Lie down 
 and rest, my son," it seemed to say. "Let not 
 your heart be troubled. Here in your Father s 
 house are forgiveness and plenty." 
 
 He put away the thought of death. He cov 
 ered the sleeping boy and girl, pushed his canoe 
 forward upon the sand, and lying back comfort 
 ably soon fell asleep. 
 
 He awoke refreshed at sunrise. The great, 
 green fountain of life, in the midst of which he 
 had rested, now seemed to fill his heart with its 
 uplifting joy and energy and persistence. 
 
 He built a fire under the trees and broiled the 
 meat and made toast and coffee. He lifted the 
 children in his arms and kissed them with un 
 usual tenderness. 
 
 "To-day we ll see Uncle Silas," Gordon as 
 sured them. 
 
 "My Uncle Silas!" said the boy, fondly. 
 
 "He s mine, too," Sue declared. 
 
 "He s both of our n," Socky allowed, as they 
 began to eat their breakfast. 
 
IV 
 
 ILAS STRONG, or "Panther Sile," 
 as the hunters called him, spent 
 every winter in the little forest 
 hamlet of Pitkin and every sum 
 mer in the woods. 
 
 To Sile, St. Lawrence County was the world, 
 and game, wood, and huckleberries the fulness 
 thereof ; all beyond was like the reaches of space 
 unexplored and mysterious. God was only a 
 word one may almost say and mostly part of 
 a compound adjective; hell was Ogdensburg, to 
 which he had once journeyed ; and the devil was 
 Colonel Jedson. This latter opinion, it should be 
 said, grew out of an hour in which the Colonel 
 had bullied him in the witness-chair, and not to 
 any lasting resemblance. 
 
 As to Ogdensburg itself, the hunter had based 
 his judgment upon evidence which, to say the 
 least, was inconclusive. When Sile and the 
 city first met, they regarded each other with ex 
 treme curiosity. A famous hunter, as he moved 
 
 3 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 along the street with rifle, pack, and panther-skin, 
 Sile was trying to see everything, and everything 
 seemed to be trying to see Sile. The city was 
 amused while the watchful eye of Silas grew 
 weary and his bosom filled with distrust. One 
 tipsy man offered him a jack-knife as a com 
 pliment to the length of his nose, and before he 
 could escape a new acquaintance had wrong 
 fully borrowed his watch. His conclusions re 
 garding the city were now fully formed. He 
 broke with it suddenly, and struck out across 
 country and tramped sixty miles without a rest. 
 Ever after the thought of Ogdensburg revived 
 memories of confusion, headache, and irrepara 
 ble loss. So, it is said, when he heard the min 
 ister describing hell one Sunday at the little 
 school- house in Pitkin, he had no doubt either 
 of its existence or its location. 
 
 All this, however, relates to antecedent years of 
 our history years which may not be wholly neg 
 lected if one is to understand what follows them. 
 
 After the death of his sister the late Mrs. 
 Gordon Strong began to read his Bible and to 
 cut his trails of thought further and further 
 towards his final destination. A deeper rever 
 ence and a more correct notion of the devil re 
 warded his labor. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 It must be added that his meditations led 
 him to one remarkable conclusion namely, that 
 all women were angels. His parents had left 
 him nothing save a maiden sister named Cyn 
 thia, and characterized by some as "a reg lar 
 human panther." 
 
 " Wherever Sile is they s panthers," said a 
 guide once, in the little store at Pitkin. 
 
 11 Don t make no difer nce whuther he s t 
 home er in the woods," said another, solemnly. 
 
 That was when God owned the wilderness 
 and kept there a goodly number of his big cats, 
 four of which had fallen before the rifle of 
 Strong. 
 
 Cynthia, in his view, had a special sanctity, 
 but there was another woman whom he regarded 
 with great tenderness a cheery -faced maiden 
 lady of his own age and of the name of Annette. 
 
 To Silas she was always Lady Ann. He gave 
 her this title without any thought or knowledge 
 of foreign customs. "Miss Roice" would have 
 been too formal, and "Ann " or " Annette " would 
 have been too familiar. "Lady Ann" seemed 
 to have the proper ring of respect, familiarity, 
 and distinction. In his view a "lady" was, a 
 creature as near perfection as anything could be 
 in this world. 
 
 3 2 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 When a girl of eighteen she had taught in the 
 log school-house. Since the death of her mother 
 the care of the little home had fallen upon her. 
 She was a well-fed, cheerful, and comely creature 
 with a genius for housekeeping. 
 
 June had come, and Silas was getting ready to 
 go into camp. There was no longer any peace 
 for him in the clearing. The odor of the forest 
 and the sight of the new leaves gave him no rest. 
 Had he not heard in his dreams the splash of 
 leaping trout, and deer playing in the lily-pads ? 
 In the midst of his preparations, although a 
 silent man, the tumult of joy in his breast came 
 pouring out in the whistled refrain of " Yankee 
 Doodle." It was a general and not a special 
 sense of satisfaction which caused him to shake 
 with laughter now and then as he made his way 
 along the rough road. Sometimes he rubbed his 
 long nose thoughtfully. 
 
 A nature-loving publisher, who often visited 
 his camp, had printed some cards for him. They 
 bore these modest words : 
 
 S. STRONG 
 
 GUIDE AND CONTRIVER 
 
 He was able in either capacity, but his great 
 gift lay in tongue control in his management 
 
 33 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 of silence. He was what they called in that 
 country "a one-word man." The phrase in 
 dicated that he was wont to express himself with 
 all possible brevity. He never used more than 
 one word if that could be made to satisfy the 
 demands of politeness and perspicacity. Even 
 though provocation might lift his feeling to high 
 degrees of intensity, and well beyond the pale 
 of Christian sentiment, he was never profuse. 
 
 His oaths would often hiss and hang fire a 
 little, but they were in the end as brief and em 
 phatic as the crack of a rifle. This trait of 
 brevity was due, in some degree, to the fact that 
 he stammered slightly, especially in moments of 
 excitement, but more to his life in the silence 
 of the deep woods. 
 
 Silas Strong had filled his great pack at the 
 store and was nearing his winter home a rude 
 log-house in the little forest hamlet. He let the 
 basket down from his broad back to the door 
 step. His sister Cynthia, small, slim, stern- 
 faced, black-eyed, heart and fancy free, stood 
 looking down at him. 
 
 "Wai, what now?" she demanded, in a voice 
 not unlike that of a pea-hen. 
 
 "T -t -morrer," he stammered, in a loud and 
 cheerful tone. 
 
 34 
 

 Silas Strong 
 
 "What time to-morrer?" 
 
 "D-daylight." 
 
 " I knew it," she snapped, sinking into a chair, 
 the broom in her hands, and a woful look upon 
 her. "You ve got t hankerin ." 
 
 Silas said nothing, but entered the house and 
 took a drink of water. Cynthia snapped : 
 
 " If I wanted t marry Net Roice I d marry er 
 an not be dilly-dallyin all my life." 
 
 Cynthia was now fifty years of age, and re 
 garded with a stern eye every act of man which 
 bore any suggestion of dilly-dallying. 
 
 "Ain t g-good nough," he stammered, calmly. 
 
 "You re fool nough," she declared, with a 
 twang of ill-nature. 
 
 "S-supper, Mis Strong," said he, stirring the 
 fire. 
 
 Whenever his sister indulged in language of 
 unusual loudness and severity he was wont to 
 address her in a gentle tone as "Mis Strong" 
 the only kind of retaliation to which he resorted. 
 He shortened the "Miss" a little, so that his 
 words might almost be recorded as " Mi Strong." 
 In those rare and cheerful moments when her 
 mood was more in harmony with his own he 
 called her "Sinth" for short. In his letters, 
 which were few, he had addressed her as " deer 
 
 35 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 smth." She was, therefore, a compound person, 
 consisting of a severe and dissenting character 
 called "Mis Strong," and a woman of few 
 words and a look of sickliness and resigna 
 tion who answered to the pseudonyme of 
 "Sinth." 
 
 Born and brought up in the forest, there was 
 much in Silas and Cynthia that suggested the 
 wild growth of the woodland. Their sister 
 the late Mrs. Gordon had beauty and a head 
 for books. She had gone to town and worked 
 for her board and spent a year in the academy. 
 Silas and Cynthia, on the other hand, were 
 without beauty or learning or refinement, nor 
 had they much understanding of the laws of 
 earth or heaven, save what nature had taught 
 them; but the devotion of this man to that 
 querulous little wild - cat of a sister was re 
 markable. She was to him a sacred heritage. 
 For love of her he had carried with him these 
 ten years a burden, as it were, of suppressed 
 and yearning affection. Silas Strong alone might 
 even have been "good enough," in his own esti 
 mation, but he accepted " Mis Strong" as a kind 
 of flaw in his own character. 
 
 Every June he went to his camp at Lost River, 
 taking Sinth to cook for him, and returning in 
 
 36 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the early winter. Next day, at sunrise, they 
 were to start for the woods. 
 
 To-day he helped to get supper, and, having 
 wiped the dishes, put on his best suit, his fine 
 boots, his new felt hat, and walked a mile to the 
 little farm of Uncle Ben Roice. He carried with 
 him a gray squirrel in a cage, and, as he walked, 
 sang in a low voice : 
 
 " All for the love of a charmin creature, 
 All for the love of a lady fair." 
 
 It was like any one of a thousand visits he had 
 made there. Annette met him at the door. 
 
 " Why, of all things !" said she. " What have 
 you here?" 
 
 "C ris mus p-present, Lady Ann," said he. 
 
 It should be said that with Silas a gift was a 
 "Christmas present" every day in the year 
 the cheerful spirit of that time being always with 
 him. 
 
 He proudly put the cage in her hands. 
 
 "Much obliged to you, Sile," said she, laugh 
 ing. , 
 
 " S-Strong s ahead!" he stammered, cheerfully. 
 
 This indicated that in his fight with the 
 powers of evil Strong felt as if he had at least 
 
 37 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 temporary advantage. When, perhaps, after a 
 moment of anger it seemed that the Evil One 
 had got the upper hold on him, he was wont to 
 exclaim, Satan s ahead!" But the historian 
 is glad to say that those occasions were, in the 
 main, rare and painful. 
 
 " Strong will never give in," said Annette, with 
 laughter. 
 
 Strong s affection was expressed only in signs 
 and tokens. Of the former there were his care 
 ful preparation for each visit, and many sighs 
 and blushes, and now and then a tender glance 
 of the eye. Of tokens there had been many 
 a tame fox, ten mink-skins, a fawn, a young 
 thrush, a pancake-turner carved out of wood, 
 and other important trifles. For twenty years 
 he had been coming, but never a word of love 
 had passed between them. 
 
 Silas sat in a strong wooden chair. Under the 
 sky he never thought of his six feet and two 
 inches of bone and muscle ; now it seemed to fill 
 his consciousness and the little room in which 
 he sat. To-day and generally he leaned against 
 the wall, a knee in his hands as if to keep him 
 self in proper restraint. 
 
 "Did you just come to bring me that squir 
 rel?" Annette inquired. 
 
 38 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "No," he answered. 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "Squirrel come t b-bring me." 
 
 "Silas Strong!" she exclaimed, playfully, 
 amazed by his frankness. 
 
 He put his big hand over his face and enjoyed 
 half a minute of silent laughter. 
 
 "Silas Strong!" she repeated. 
 
 "Present," said he, as if answering the call 
 of the roll, and sobering as he uncovered his 
 face. 
 
 In conversation Silas had a way of partly 
 closing one eye while the other opened wide 
 beneath a lifted brow. The one word of the 
 Emperor was inadequate. He was, indeed, pres 
 ent, but he was extremely happy also, a con 
 dition which should have been freely acknowl 
 edged. It must be said, however, that his feat 
 ures made up in some degree for the idleness 
 of his tongue. He brushed them with a down 
 ward movement of his hand, as if to remove all 
 traces of levity and prepare them for their part 
 in serious conversation. 
 
 "All w-well?" he inquired, soberly. 
 
 "Eat our allowance," said she, sitting near 
 him. "How s Miss Strong?" 
 
 "S-supple!" he answered. Then he ran his 
 39 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 fingers through his blond hair and soberly ex 
 claimed, " Weasels !" 
 
 This remark indicated that weasels had been 
 killing the poultry and applying stimulation to 
 the tongue of Miss Strong. Silas had sent her 
 fowls away to market the day before. 
 
 "Too bad!" was the remark of Lady Ann. 
 
 "Fisht?" By this word Silas meant to in 
 quire if she had been fishing. 
 
 "Yesterday. Over at the falls caught ten," 
 said she, getting busy with her knitting. 
 
 "B-big?" 
 
 "Three that long," she answered, measuring 
 with her thread. 
 
 He gave a loud whistle of surprise, thought 
 a moment, and exclaimed, "M-mountaneyous!" 
 He used this word when contemplating in imag 
 ination news of a large and important character. 
 
 " How have you been?" 
 
 "Stout," he answered, drawing in his breath. 
 
 Annette rose and seemed to go in search of 
 something. The kindly gray eyes of Silas Strong 
 followed her. A smile lighted up his face. It 
 was a very plain face, but there was yet some 
 thing fine about it, something which invited 
 confidence and respect. The Lady Ann entered 
 her own room, and soon returned. 
 
 40 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Shut yer eyes," said she. 
 
 "Whatf-for?" 
 
 " Chris mas present." 
 
 Silas obeyed, and she thrust three pairs of socks 
 into his coat-pocket. With a smile he drew them 
 out. Then a partly smothered laugh burst from 
 his lips, and he held his hand before his face and 
 shook with good feeling. 
 
 "S-socks!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "There are two parts of a man which always 
 ought to be kep warm his heart an his feet," 
 said she. 
 
 Silas whacked his knee with his palm and 
 laughed heartily, his wide eye aglow with merri 
 ment. His expression quickly turned serious. 
 
 "B-bears plenty!" he exclaimed, as he felt 
 of the socks and looked them over. This re 
 mark indicated that a season of unusual happi 
 ness and prosperity had arrived. 
 
 Worked in white yarn at the top of each leg 
 were the words, "Remember me." 
 
 "T-till d-death," he whispered. 
 
 "With me on your mind an them on your 
 feet you ought to be happy," said Annette. 
 
 "An w-warm," he answered, soberly. 
 
 Presently she read aloud to him from the St. 
 Lawrence Republican. 
 
 4 4 I 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "S-some day," said Silas, when at last he had 
 risen to go. 
 
 "Some day," she repeated, with a smile. 
 
 The only sort of engagement between them 
 lay in the two words " some day." They served 
 as an avowal of love and intention. Amplified, 
 as it were, by look and tone as well as by the 
 pressure of the hand - clasp, they were under 
 stood of both. 
 
 To-day as Annette returned the assurance she 
 playfully patted his cheek, a rare token of her 
 approval. 
 
 Silas left her at the door and made his way 
 down the dark road. He began to give himself 
 some highly pleasing assurances. 
 
 "S-some day tall t-talkin ," he stammered, 
 in a whisper, and then he began to laugh silently. 
 
 "Patted my cheek!" he whispered. Then he 
 laughed again. 
 
 At the store he had filled his pack with flour, 
 ham, butter, and like provisions for Lost River 
 camp. At Annette s he had filled his heart with 
 renewed hope and happiness and was now pre 
 pared for the summer. While he walked along 
 he fell to speculating as to whether Annette 
 could live under the same roof with Cynthia. 
 A hundred times he had considered whether 
 
 42 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 he could ask her, and as usual he concluded, 
 "Ca-can t." 
 
 The hunter had an old memorandum-book 
 which was a kind of storehouse for thought, 
 hope, and reflection. Therein he seemed always 
 to regard himself objectively and spoke of Strong 
 as if he were quite another person. Before going 
 to bed that evening he made these entries : 
 
 " June the 23. Strong is all mellered up. 
 4 Snags." 
 
 With him the word "meller" meant to soften, 
 and sometimes, even, to conquer with the club. 
 
 The word " snags" undoubtedly bore reference 
 to the difficulties that beset his way. 
 
IILAS and his sister ate their break 
 fast by candle-light and were off 
 on the trail before sunrise, a small, 
 yellow dog of t,Jie name of Zeb 
 following. Zeb was a bear -dog 
 with a cross-eye and a serious countenance. He 
 was, in the main, a brave but a prudent animal. 
 One day he attacked a bear, which had been 
 stunned by a bullet, and before he could dodge 
 the bear struck him knocking an eye out. 
 Strong had put it back, and since that day his 
 dog had borne a cross-eye. 
 
 Zeb had a sense of dignity highly becoming 
 in a creature of his attainments. This morning, 
 however, he scampered up and down the trail, 
 whining with great joy and leaping to lick the 
 hand of his master. "Sinth" walked spryly, a 
 little curt in her manner, but passive and re 
 signed. Silas carried a heavy pack, a coon in a 
 big cage, and led a fox. When he came to soft 
 places he set the cage down and tethered the 
 
 44 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 fox, and, taking Sinth in his arms, carried her as 
 one would carry a baby. Having gained better 
 footing, he would let Sinth down upon a log 
 or a mossy rock to rest and return for his 
 treasures. After two or three hours of trav 
 el the complaining "Mis Strong" would ap 
 pear. 
 
 " Seems so ye take pleasure wearin me out 
 on these here trails," she would say. "Why 
 don t ye walk a little faster?" 
 
 "W-whoa!" he would answer, cheerfully. 
 "Roughlocks!" 
 
 The roughlock, it should be explained, was a 
 form of brake used by log-haulers to check their 
 bobs on a steep hill. In the conversation of 
 Silas it was a cautionary signal meaning hold 
 up and proceed carefully. 
 
 "You don t care if you do kill me gallopin 
 through the woods here jes like a houn after a 
 fox. I won t walk another step not another 
 step." 
 
 "Rur - roughlocks!" he commanded himself, 
 as he tied the fox and set the coon down. 
 
 "Won t ride either," she would declare, with 
 emphasis. 
 
 "W-wings on, Mis Strong?" Silas had been 
 known to ask, in a tone of great gentleness. 
 
 45 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 She would be apt to answer, " If I had wings, 
 I d see the last o you." 
 
 Then a little time of rest and silence, after 
 which the big, gentle hunter would shoulder his 
 pack and lift in his arms the slender and com 
 plaining Miss Strong and carry her up the long 
 grade of Bear Mountain. Then he would make 
 her comfortable and return for his pets. 
 
 That day, having gone back for the fox and 
 the coon, he concluded to try the experiment 
 of putting them together. Before then he had 
 given the matter a good deal of thought, for if 
 the two were in a single package, as it were, 
 the problem of transportation would be greatly 
 simplified. He could fasten the coon cage on 
 the top of his pack, and so avoid doubling the 
 trail. He led the fox and carried the coon to 
 the point where Sinth awaited him. Then he 
 removed the chain from the fox s collar, care 
 fully opened the cage, and thrust him in. The 
 swift effort of both animals to find quarter near 
 ly overturned the cage. Spits and growls of 
 warning followed one another in quick succes 
 sion. Then each animal braced himself against 
 an end of the cage, indulging, as it would seem, 
 in continuous complaint and recrimination. 
 
 "Y-you behave!" said Silas, warningly, as he 
 46 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 put the cage on top of his basket and fastened a 
 stout cord from bars to buckles. 
 
 " They 11 fight!" Sinth exclaimed. 
 
 "Let em f-fight," said Silas, who had sat 
 down before his pack and adjusted the shoulder- 
 straps. 
 
 The growling increased as he rose carefully to 
 his feet, and with a swift movement coon and 
 fox exchanged positions. Sinth descended the 
 long hill afoot, and Silas went on cautiously, a 
 low, continuous murmur of hostile sound rising 
 in the air behind him. Each animal seemed to 
 think it necessary to remind the other with 
 every breath he took that he was prepared to 
 defend himself. Their enmity was, it would 
 appear, deep and racial. 
 
 At Cedar Swamp, in the flat below, the big 
 hunter took Sinth in his arms. Then the sound 
 of menace and complaint rose before and behind 
 him. Slowly he proceeded, his feet sinking deep 
 in the wet moss. Stepping on hummocks in a 
 dead creek, he slipped and fell. The little ani 
 mals were flung about like shot in a bottle. 
 Each seemed to hold the other responsible for 
 his discomfiture. They came together in deadly 
 conflict. The sounds in the cage resembled an 
 explosion of fire -crackers under a pan. Sinth 
 
 47 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 lifted her voice in a loud outcry of distress and 
 accusation. Without a word the hunter scram 
 bled to his feet, renewed his hold upon the com 
 plaining Sinth, and set out for dry land. Luckily 
 the mud was not above his boot-tops. The cage 
 creaked and hurtled. The animals rolled from 
 side to side in their noisy encounter. The in 
 dignant Sinth struggled to get free with loud, 
 hysteric cries. Strong ran beneath his burden. 
 He gained the dry trail, and set his sister upon 
 the ground. He flung off the shoulder-straps, 
 and with a stick separated the animals. He 
 opened the cage and seized the fox by the nape 
 of the neck, and, before he could haul him forth, 
 got a nip on the back of his hand. He lifted 
 the spitting fox and fastened the chain upon his 
 collar. Then Silas put his hands on his hips 
 and blew like a frightened deer. 
 
 " Hell s b-bein raised, "he muttered, as if taking 
 counsel with himself against Satan. " C-careful !" 
 
 He was in a mood between amusement and 
 anger, but was dangerously near the latter. 
 
 A little profanity, felt but not expressed, 
 warmed his spirit, so that he kicked the coon s 
 cage and tumbled it bottom side up. In a 
 moment he recovered self-control, righted the 
 cage, and whispered, " S-Satan s ahead!" 
 
 48 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The wound upon his hand was bleeding, but 
 he seemed not to mind it. 
 
 Having done his best for the comfort of his 
 sister, he brushed the mud from his boots and 
 trousers, filled his pipe, and sat meditating in a 
 cloud of tobacco-smoke. Presently he rose and 
 shouldered his pack and untied the fox and 
 lifted the coon cage. 
 
 "I ll walk if it kills me!" Sinth exclaimed, 
 rising with a sigh of utter recklessness. 
 
 " T- tain t fur," said Strong, as they renewed 
 their journey. 
 
 It was past mid-day when they got to camp, 
 and Sinth lay down to rest while he fried some 
 ham and boiled the potatoes and made tea and 
 flapjacks by an open fire. 
 
 When he sat on his heels and held his pan over 
 the fire, the long woodsman used to shut up, as 
 one might say, somewhat in the fashion of a 
 jack-knife. He was wont to call it "settin on 
 his hunches." His great left hand served for 
 a movable screen to protect his face from the 
 heat. As the odor and sound of the frying rose 
 about him, his features took on a look of great 
 benevolence. It was a good part of the meal 
 to hear him announce, "Di-dinner," in a tender 
 and cheerful tone. As he spoke it the word 
 
 49 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 was one of great capacity for suggestion. When 
 the sound of it rose and lingered on its final r, 
 that day they arrived at Lost River camp, Sinth 
 awoke and came out-of-doors. 
 
 Strong s g-gainin !" he exclaimed, cheer 
 fully, meaning thereby to indicate that he hoped 
 soon to overtake his enemy. 
 
 The table of bark, fastened to spruce poles, 
 each end lying in a crotch, had been covered 
 with a mat of ferns and with clean, white dishes. 
 Silas began to convey the food from fire to table. 
 To his delight he observed that Mis Strong" 
 had gone into retirement. The face of his sister 
 now wore its better look of sickliness and resig 
 nation. 
 
 "Opeydildock?" he inquired, tenderly, pour 
 ing from a flask into a cup. 
 
 "No, sir," she answered, curtly, her tone add 
 ing a rebuke to her negative answer. 
 
 "Le s s-set," said he, soberly. 
 
 They sat and ate their dinner, after which 
 Silas went back on the trail to cut and bring 
 wood for the camp - fire. When his job was 
 finished, the rooms were put to rights, the stove 
 was hot and clean, and an excellent supper 
 waiting. 
 
 Strong s camp consisted of three little log- 
 So 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 cabins and a large cook- tent. The end of each 
 cabin was a rude fireplace built of flat rocks en 
 closed by upright logs which, lined with sheet- 
 iron, towered above the roof for a chimney. 
 Each floor an odd mosaic of wooden blocks, 
 each wall sheathed with redolent strips of cedar, 
 each rude divan bottomed with deer-skin and 
 covered with balsam pillows, each bedstead of 
 peeled spruce neatly cut and joined the whole 
 represented years of labor. Every winter Silas 
 had come through the woods on a big sled with 
 "new improvements" for camp. Now there 
 were spring-beds and ticks filled with husks in 
 the cabins, a stove and all needed accessories 
 in the cook-tent. 
 
 Ever since he could carry a gun Silas had set 
 his traps and hunted along the valley of Lost 
 River, ranging over the wild country miles from 
 either shore. Twenty thousand acres of the 
 wilderness, round about, had belonged to Smith 
 & Gordon, who gave him permission to build 
 his camp. When he built, timber and land had 
 little value. Under the great, green roof from 
 Bear Mountain to Four Ponds, from the Ra- 
 quette to the Oswegatchie, one might have en 
 joyed the free hospitality of God. 
 
 From a time he could not remember, this 
 5* 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 great domain had been the home of Silas Strong. 
 He loved it, and a sense of proprietorship had 
 grown within him. Therein he had need only 
 of matches, a blanket, and a rifle. One might 
 have led him blindfolded, in the darkest night, 
 to any part of it and soon he would have got his 
 bearings. In many places the very soles of his 
 feet would have told him where he stood. 
 
 Long ago its owners had given him charge of 
 this great tract. He had forbidden the hound 
 ing of deer and all kinds of greedy slaughter, and 
 had made campers careful with fire. Soon he 
 came to be called "The Emperor of the Woods," 
 and every hunter respected his laws. 
 
 Slowly steam-power broke through the hills 
 and approached the ramparts of the Emperor. 
 This power was like one of the many hands of 
 the republic gathering for its need. It started 
 wheels and shafts and bore day and night upon 
 them. Now the song of doom sounded in far 
 corridors of the great sylvan home of Silas 
 Strong. 
 
 It was only a short walk to where the dead 
 hills lay sprinkled over with ashes, their rock 
 bones bleaching in the sun beneath columns of 
 charred timber. The spruce and pine had gone 
 with the ever-flowing stream, and their dead 
 
 52 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 tops had been left to dry and burn with un 
 quenchable fury at the touch of fire, and to de 
 stroy everything, root and branch, and the 
 earth out of which it grew. 
 
 It concerned him much to note, everywhere, 
 signs of a change in proprietorship. In Strong s 
 youth one felt, from end to end of the forest, 
 this invitation of its ancient owner, " Come all 
 ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest." Now one saw much of this 
 legend in the forest ways, "All persons are 
 forbidden trespassing on this property under 
 penalty of the law." Proprietorship had, seem 
 ingly, passed from God to man. The land was 
 worth now thirty dollars an acre. Silas had 
 established his camp when the boundaries were 
 indefinite and the old banners of welcome on 
 every trail, and he felt the change. 
 
VI 
 
 T was near sunset of the second 
 day after the arrival of Sinth and 
 Silas. They sat together in front 
 of the cook-tent. Silas leaned for 
 ward smoking a pipe. His great, 
 brawny arms, bare to the elbow, rested on his 
 knees. His faded felt hat was tilted back. He 
 was looking down at the long stretch of still 
 water, fringed with lily-pads, and reflecting the 
 colors of either shore. 
 
 "You ain t got a cent to yer name," said 
 Sinth, who was knitting. She gave the yarn a 
 pull, and, as she did so, glanced up at her 
 brother. 
 
 "B-better times!" said he, rubbing his hands. 
 "Better times!" she sneered. "I d like to 
 know how you can make money an charge a 
 dollar a day for board." 
 
 Sportsmen visiting there paid for their board, 
 and they with whom Silas went gave him three 
 dollars a day for his labor. 
 
 54 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The truth was that prosperity and Miss Strong 
 were things irreconcilable. The representatives 
 of prosperity who came to Lost River camp 
 were often routed by the eye of resentment and 
 the unruly tongue. Strong knew all this, but 
 she was not the less sacred on that account. 
 This year he had planned to bring a cow to camp 
 and raise the price of board. 
 
 "You s-see," Strong insisted. 
 
 "Huh!" Sinth went on; "we ll mos kill our 
 selves, an nex spring we won t have nothin 
 but a lot o mink-skins." 
 
 Miss Strong, as if this reflection had quite 
 overcome her, gathered up her knitting and 
 hastened into the cook -tent, where for a mo 
 ment she seemed to be venting her spite on the 
 flat-irons and the tea-kettle. Strong sat alone, 
 smoking thoughtfully. Soon he heard footsteps 
 on the trail. A stranger, approaching, bade him 
 good-evening. 
 
 "From the Migley Lumber Company," the 
 stranger began, as he gave a card to Strong. 
 "We have bought the Smith & Gordon tract. 
 I have come to bring this letter and have a talk 
 with you." 
 
 Strong read the letter carefully. Then he 
 rose and put his hands in his pockets, and, with 
 
 55 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 a sly wink at the stranger, walked slowly down 
 the trail. He wished to go where Sinth would 
 not be able to hear them. Some twenty rods 
 away both sat down upon a log. The letter 
 was, in effect, an order of eviction. 
 
 "I got t g-go?" the Emperor inquired. 
 
 " That s about the size of it," said the stranger. 
 
 "Can t," Strong answered. 
 
 "Well, there s no hurry," said the other. 
 "We shall be cutting here in the fall. I won t 
 disturb you this year." 
 
 Silas rose and stood erect before the lumber 
 man. 
 
 "Cut e very th- thing?" he inquired, his hand 
 sweeping outward in a gesture of peculiar elo 
 quence. 
 
 "Everything from Round Ridge to Carter s 
 Plain," said the other. 
 
 Strong deliberately took off his jacket and 
 laid it on a stump. He flung his hat upon 
 the ground. Evidently something unusual was 
 about to happen. Then, forthwith, he broke 
 the silence of more than forty years and opened 
 his heart to the stranger. He could not control 
 himself; his tongue almost forgot its infirmity; 
 his words came faster and easier as he went on. 
 
 "N-no, no," he said, "it can t be. Ye ain t 
 56 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 no r-right t do it, fer ye can t never put the 
 w-woods back agin. My God, sir, I ve w-wan- 
 dered over these hills an flats ever since I was a 
 little b-boy. There ain t a critter on em that 
 d-don t know me. Seems so they was all my 
 b-brothers. I ve seen men come in here nigh 
 dead an go back w-well. They s m-med cine 
 here t cure all the sickness in a hunderd cities; 
 they s f-fur nough here t c-cover their naked 
 they s f-food nough t feed their hungry an 
 they s w-wood nough t keep em w-warm. God 
 planted these w-woods an stocked em, an no 
 body s ever d-done a day s work here cept me. 
 Now you come along an say you ve bought em 
 an are g-goin t shove us out. I c-can t under 
 stand it. God m-made the sky an 1-lifted up 
 the trees t sweep the dust out of it an pump 
 water into the clouds an g-give out the breath 
 o the g-ground. Y-you ain t no right t git to 
 gether down there in Albany an make laws ag in 
 the will o God. Ye r-rob the world when ye take 
 the tree -tops out o the sky. Ye might as well 
 take the clouds out of it. God has gi n us g-good 
 air an the woods an the w-wild cattle, an it s 
 free an you you re g-goin t turn ev rybody 
 out o here an seize the g-gift an trade it fer 
 
 d-dollars you d little bullcook!" 
 
 5 57 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 A "bullcook," it should be explained, was 
 the chore-boy in a lumber-camp. 
 
 Strong sat down and took out an old red hand 
 kerchief and wiped his eyes. 
 
 He was thinking of the springs and brooks and 
 rivers, of the cool shade, of the odors of the 
 woodland, of the life-giving air, of the desola 
 tion that was to come. 
 
 "It s business," said the stranger, as if that 
 word must put an end to all argument. 
 
 A sound broke the silence like that of distant 
 thunder. 
 
 "Hear th-that," Strong went on. "It s the 
 logs g-goin over Rainbow Falls. They ve been 
 stole off the state 1-lands. Th-that s business, 
 too. Business is king o this c-country. He 
 t-takes everything he can 1-lay his hands on. 
 He d t-try t grab heaven if he could g-git over 
 the f-fence an b-back agin." 
 
 "I am not here to discuss that," said the 
 stranger, rising to go. 
 
 "Had s-supper?" Silas asked. 
 
 "I ve a lunch in the canoe, thank you. The < 
 moon is up, an I m going to push on to Cop 
 per Falls. Migley will be waiting for me. We 
 shall camp there for a day or two at Cedar 
 Spring. Good-night." 
 
 58 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 It was growing dark. Strong s outbreak had 
 wearied him. He groaned and shook his head 
 and stood a moment thinking. In the distance 
 he could hear the hoot of an owl and the bull 
 bass of frogs booming over the still water. 
 
 "G-gone!" he exclaimed, presently. Soon he 
 added, in a mournful tone, " W-wouldn t d-dast 
 tell Mis Strong." 
 
 He started slow r ly towards the camp. 
 
 "I ll 1-lie to her," he whispered, as he went 
 along. 
 
 Before going to bed he made this note in his 
 memorandum -book : 
 
 " June the 26 More snags Strong says trubel is like 
 small pox thing to do is kepe it from spreadin." 
 
VII 
 
 INCE early May there had been 
 no rain save a sprinkle now and 
 then. From Lake Ontario to Lake 
 Champlain, from the St. Lawrence 
 to Sandy Hook, the earth had been 
 scorching under a hot sun. The heat and dust 
 of midsummer had dimmed the glory of June. 
 
 People those days were thinking less of the 
 timber of the woods and more of their abundant, 
 cool, and living green. The inns along the edge 
 of the forest were filling up. 
 
 About eleven o clock of a morning late in 
 June, a young man arrived at Lost River camp 
 one Robert Master, whose father owned a camp 
 and some forty thousand acres not quite a day s 
 tramp to the north. He was a big, handsome 
 youth of twenty-two, just out of college. Sinth 
 regarded every new-comer as a natural enemy. 
 She suspected most men of laziness and a ca 
 pacity for the oppression of females. She stood 
 in severe silence at the door of the cook-tent and 
 
 60 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 looked him over as he came. Soon she went 
 to the stove and began to move the griddles. 
 Silas entered with an armful of wood. 
 
 "If he thinks I m goin to wait on him hand 
 an foot, he s very much mistaken," said 
 Sinth. 
 
 "R-roughlocks!" Silas answered, calmly, as he 
 put a stick on the fire. 
 
 Sinth made no reply, but began sullenly 
 rushing to and fro with pots and pans. Soon 
 her quick knife had taken the jackets off a 
 score of potatoes. While her hands flew, water 
 leaped on the potatoes, and the potatoes tum 
 bled into the pot, and the pot jumped into the 
 stove-hole as the griddle took a slide across the 
 top of the stove. And so with a rush of feet 
 and a rattle of pots and pans and a sliding of 
 griddles and a banging of iron doors Mis 
 Strong" wore off her temper at hard work. 
 
 The Emperor used to smile at this variety of 
 noise and call it "f-f -female profanity," a phrase 
 not wholly inapt. When the "sport" had fin 
 ished his dinner, and she and her brother sat 
 side by side at the table, she was plain Sinth 
 again, with a look of sickliness and resignation. 
 She ate freely but would never confess her 
 appetite and so leisurely that Strong often had 
 
 61 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 most of the dishes washed before she had fin 
 ished eating. 
 
 The young man was eager to begin fishing, 
 and soon after dinner the Emperor took him 
 over to Catamount Pond. On their way the 
 young man spoke of the object of his visit. 
 
 "Mr. Strong, you know my father?" he half 
 inquired. 
 
 "Ay-ah," the Emperor answered. 
 
 "He s been a property-holder in this county 
 for five years, every summer of which I have 
 spent on his land. I feel at home in the woods, 
 and I cast my first vote at Tifton." 
 
 Strong listened thoughtfully. 
 
 " I want to do what I can to save the wilder 
 ness," young Master went on. 
 
 "R-right!" said the Emperor. 
 
 " If I were in the Legislature, I believe I could 
 accomplish something. Anyhow, I am going to 
 make a fight for the vacant seat in the Assem 
 bly." 
 
 Strong surveyed him from head to foot. 
 
 " I wish you would do what you can for me in 
 Pitkin." 
 
 "Uh-huh!" Strong answered, in a gentle tone, 
 without opening his lips. It was a way he had 
 of expressing uncertainty leaning towards af- 
 
 62 
 
. 
 
 fuN I VERS1TY ) 
 
 OF s 
 
 Silas Strong 
 
 firmation. He liked the young man; there was, 
 indeed, something grateful to him in the look 
 and voice of a gentleman. 
 
 " You ll never be ashamed of me I ll see to 
 that," said Master. 
 
 Having reached the little pond, Strong gave 
 him his boat, and promised to return and bring 
 him into camp at six. Here and there trout 
 were breaking through the smooth plane of 
 water. 
 
 The Emperor took a bee-line over the wood 
 ed ridge to Robin Lake. There he spent an 
 hour repairing his bark shanty and gathering 
 balsam boughs for a bed. Stepping on a layer 
 of spruce poles over which the boughs were to 
 be spread, in a dark corner of the shanty, his 
 foot went through and came down upon the 
 nest of one of the most disagreeable creatures 
 in the wilderness. He sprang away with an 
 oath and fled into the open air. For a moment 
 he expressed himself in a series of sharp reports, 
 Then, picking up a long pole, he met the offend 
 ers leaving their retreat, and "mellered" them, 
 as he explained to Sinth that evening. 
 
 "T-take that, Amos," he muttered, as he 
 gave one of them another blow. 
 
 It should be borne in mind that he called 
 
 63 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 every member of this malodorous tribe " Amos," 
 because the meanest man he ever knew had 
 borne that name. 
 
 He put his heel in the crotch of a fallen limb 
 and drew his boot. Then he cautiously cut off 
 the leg of his trousers at the knee, and, poking 
 cloth and leather into a little hollow, buried 
 them under black earth. 
 
 Slowly the "Emperor of the Woods" climbed 
 a ridge on his way to Lost River camp, one leg 
 bare to the knee. Walking, he thought of An 
 nette. Lately misfortune had come between 
 them, and now he seemed to be getting farther 
 from the trail of happiness. 
 
 At a point on Balsam Hill he came into the 
 main thoroughfare of the woodsmen which leads 
 from Bear Mountain to Lost River camp. Where 
 he could see far down the big trail, under arches 
 of evergreen, he sat on a stump to rest. His 
 bootless foot, now getting sore, rested on a giant 
 toadstool. 
 
 Thus enthroned, the Emperor looked down at 
 his foot and reconsidered the relative positions 
 of himself and the Evil One. His faded crown 
 of felt tilting over one ear, his rough, bearded 
 face wet with perspiration, his patched trousers 
 truncated over the right knee, below which foot 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and leg were uncovered, he was an emperor 
 more distinguished for his appearance than his 
 lineage. 
 
 He took out his old memorandum-book and 
 made this note in it with a stub of a pencil: 
 
 " June the 27 Strong says one Amos in the bush is 
 worth two in yer company an a pair of britches." 
 
 The Emperor, although in the main a serious 
 character, enjoyed some private fun with this 
 worn little book, which he always carried with 
 him. Therein he did most of his talking, with 
 secret self - applause now and then, one may 
 fancy. It has thrown some light on the inner 
 life of the man, and, in a sense, it is one of the 
 figures of our history. 
 
VIII 
 
 I LAS put the book in his pocket 
 and looked down the trail. Some 
 ten rods away two children were 
 running towards him, their hands 
 full of wild flowers. They were 
 Socky and Sue, on their way to Lost River camp, 
 and were the first children save one who had 
 ever set their feet on the old trail. Gordon 
 walked slowly, under a heavy pack, well behind 
 them. They knew they were near their destina 
 tion. Their father could scarcely keep them in 
 hailing distance. 
 
 Sue had observed that Socky s generosity in 
 the matter of the tin bank had pleased her 
 father, and so, after much thought, she had 
 determined to make a venture in benevolence. 
 "When I see Uncle Silas," said she, "I m 
 going to give him the twenty-five cents my 
 Aunt Marie gave me." 
 
 "Pooh! he s got loads of money," Socky an 
 swered. 
 
 66 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 They stopped suddenly. Sue dropped her 
 flowers and turned to run. Socky gave a little 
 jump and recovered his courage. Both re 
 treated a few steps. There, before them, was 
 the dejected " Emperor of the Woods." 
 
 "Says I!" he exclaimed, looking down calmly 
 from his throne. 
 
 Socky glanced up at him fearfully. 
 
 "Whob-beyou?" 
 
 "John Socksmith Gordon." 
 
 "T-y-ty!" exclaimed the Emperor, an expres 
 sion, as the historian believes, of great sur 
 prise, standing, perhaps, for the old oath 
 "By Mighty." It consisted of the pronuncia 
 tion of the two letters separately and then to 
 gether. 
 
 The Emperor turned to the girl. "And 
 y-yourn?" he inquired. 
 
 "Susan Bradbury Gordon," she answered, in 
 a half-whisper. 
 
 "I tnum!" exclaimed the Emperor, shaking 
 his bootless foot, whereupon the new-comers 
 retreated a little farther. The singular word 
 "tnum" expressed an unusual degree of in 
 terest on the part of the Emperor. "G-goin 
 fur ?" he inquired. 
 
 "To Lost River, to see my Uncle Silas." 
 67 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The Emperor gave a loud whistle of surprise, 
 and repeated the exclamation "I tnum!" 
 
 "My father s coming/ said Socky, as he 
 pointed down the trail. 
 
 "Whee-o!" whistled the "Emperor of the 
 Woods," who now perceived his brother-in-law 
 ascending the trail. 
 
 "Old man, what are you doing there?" Gor 
 don asked. 
 
 "Thinkin out some th-t noughts," said the 
 Emperor, soberly, as he came into the trail, 
 limping on his bare foot, and shook hands. 
 There were greetings, and the hunter briefly 
 apologized for his bare leg and explained it. 
 
 "Well, how are you?" Gordon asked. 
 
 "S-supple!" Strong answered, cheerfully. 
 
 The children got behind their father, peering 
 from either side of him as they saw this un 
 couth figure coming near. Sue pressed the 
 hand of her brother so tightly as to cause the 
 boy to break her hold upon him. 
 
 "R-ride?" said the Emperor, putting his 
 great hand on the head of the boy and shaking 
 it a little. Socky looked up at him with large, 
 wondering, timid eyes. Sue hid her face under 
 the coat-tails of her father. 
 
 "They d rather walk; come on," said Gordon. 
 68 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The men proceeded slowly over the hill and 
 down into the valley of Lost River. The chil 
 dren followed, some twenty paces behind, whis 
 pering together. They were still in happy igno 
 rance of the identity of the strange man. 
 
 "S-sold out eh?" said the hunter. 
 
 "Sold out! Sorry! They re going to shove 
 a railroad in here and begin cutting." 
 
 A smothered oath broke from the lips of the 
 Emperor. Gordon came near to him and whis 
 pered : 
 
 "Sile," said he, "don t swear before the kids. 
 I m bad enough, but I ve always been careful 
 about that. Going to leave em here if you ll 
 let me." 
 
 " G-good " The Emperor stopped short and 
 his voice fell into thoughtful silence. 
 
 As they came in sight of the little clearing 
 and the tent and cabins of Lost River camp, 
 Sue and Socky ran ahead of the men. 
 
 "I m in trouble," Gordon went on. "My ac 
 count at the mill is overdrawn. They ve pushed 
 me to the verge of madness. I must have a 
 little help. 
 
 The woodsman stopped and put his hand on 
 the shoulder of Gordon. 
 
 "Been f-foolish, Dick?" said he, kindly. 
 69 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I m done with that. I want to begin new. 
 I need a little money to throw to the wolves." 
 
 "How m-much?" 
 
 "Four hundred dollars would do me." 
 
 Strong beckoned to him. 
 
 "C-come to my goosepen," said the hunter, 
 as he led the way to an old basswood some fifty 
 paces from the camp. He removed a piece of 
 bark which fitted nicely over a hole in the tree- 
 trunk. He put his hand in the hole which he 
 called a goosepen and took out a roll of bills. 
 
 "You save like a squirrel," said Gordon. 
 
 "Dunno no other w-way," Strong answered 
 as he began to count the money. Three hun 
 dred an s-seventy dollars," he said, presently, 
 and gave it to his brother-in-law. He felt in 
 the hole again. " B-bank s failed!" he added. 
 
 The kindness of the woodland was in the face 
 of the hunter. He was like an old hickory draw 
 ing its nourishment from the very bosom of the 
 earth and freely giving its crop. Where he fed 
 there was plenty, and he had no more thought 
 of his own needs than a tree. < 
 
 "Thank vou It s enough," said Gordon. 
 " Better keep some of it." 
 
 "N-no good here," Strong answered, with his 
 old reliance on the bounty of nature. 
 
 70 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I ll go out to Pitkin in the morning. I m 
 going to get a new start in the world. If you ll 
 take care of the children I ll send you some 
 money every month. You ve been a brother 
 to me, and I ll not forget." 
 
 The Emperor sat upon a log and took a pencil 
 and an old memorandum-book from his pocket 
 and wrote on a leaf this letter to Annette : 
 
 "DEER FREND I am wel compny com today I 
 dunno when I ll see you. woods is hot and dry fish 
 plenty Socks on feel splendid hopin for better times 
 " yours trewly 
 
 " S. STRONG. 
 " P. S. Strong s ahed." 
 
 In truth, the whole purpose of the letter lay 
 in that laconic postscript, expressing, as it did, 
 a sense of moral triumph under great difficul 
 ties. 
 
 The Emperor stripped a piece of bark off a 
 birch- tree, trimmed it with his knife, and, en 
 folding it around the letter, bound it in the mid 
 dle with a long thorn which he drew out of the 
 lapel of his " jacket." He handed the missive to 
 Gordon, saying, "F-for Ann Roice." 
 
 The children stood peering into an open door 
 when the men came and flung down their packs. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 * 
 
 Sinth had gone to work in the garden, which 
 was near the river-bank. Silas Strong entered 
 his cabin. The children came to their father, 
 who had seated himself on a chopping - block. 
 Having forgotten the real Uncle Silas, they had 
 been looking for that splendid creature of whom 
 they had dreamed. 
 
 "Father," Socky whispered, "where is Uncle 
 Silas?" 
 
 "That was Uncle Silas," said Gordon. 
 
 The eyes of the children were fixed upon his, 
 while their faces began to change color. The 
 long, dark lashes of little Sue quivered for a 
 second as if she had received a blow. Socky s 
 glance fell; his trembling hands, which lay on 
 the knee of Gordon, seemed to clutch at each 
 other; then his right thumb stood up straight 
 and stiff; his lips parted. One might have 
 observed a little upward twitch of the muscles 
 under either cheek. It signalized the first touch 
 of bitter disappointment. 
 
 "That man?" he whispered, looking up doubt 
 fully as he pointed in the direction of the door 
 into which Strong had disappeared. 
 
 "That s Uncle Silas," said Gordon, with 
 smiling amusement. 
 
 Socky turned and spat upon the ground. 
 72 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Slowly he walked away, scuffing his feet. Sue 
 followed with a look of dejection. They went 
 behind the camp and found the big potato-hole 
 and crawled into it. The bottom was covered 
 with dry leaves. They sat down, but neither 
 spoke. Socky leaned forward, his chin upon his 
 hands. 
 
 "Do you like Uncle Silas?" Sue whispered. 
 
 For a moment Socky did not change his atti 
 tude or make any reply. 
 
 "I wouldn t give him no twenty-five cents," 
 Sue added. 
 
 "Don t speak to me," Socky answered, with 
 a quick movement of his knee. 
 
 It was a time of sad discovery that pathetic 
 day when the first castle of childhood falls upon 
 its builder. 
 
 "I m going home," said Sue. 
 
 " You won t be let," Socky answered, his under 
 lip trembling as he thought of the old lumber 
 yard. 
 
 Suddenly he lay over on the leaves, his fore 
 head on his elbow, and wept in silence. Sue lay 
 beside him, her cheek partly covered by golden 
 curls. She felt badly, but did not give way. 
 They were both utterly weary and cast down. 
 Sue lay on her back and drew out her tiny doll 
 
 6 73 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 much as a man would light a cigarette in his 
 moment of abstraction. She flirted it in the air 
 and brought it down upon her breast. The doll 
 had come out of her pocket just in time to save 
 her. She lay yawning a few moments, then 
 fell asleep, and soon Socky joined her. 
 
 Gordon lay down upon a bed in one of the 
 cabins. He, too, was weary and soon forgot his 
 troubles. The Emperor, having shifted his gar 
 ments, went behind the camp and stood looking 
 down at his sorrowing people. A smile spread 
 over his countenance. It came and passed like 
 a billow of sunlight flooding over the hills. He 
 shook his head with amusement. 
 
 Soon he turned away and sauntered slowly 
 towards the river -bank. These children had 
 been flung, as it were, upon the ruin of his hopes. 
 What should he do with them and with "Mis 
 Strong ? Suddenly a reflection of unusual mag 
 nitude broke from his lips. 
 
 "They s g-got t be tall contrivin ," he whis 
 pered, with a sigh. 
 
 Sinth, who had been sowing onions, heard him 
 coming and rose to her feet. 
 
 "G-Gordon!" said he, pointing towards camp. 
 
 "Anybody with him?" she asked. 
 
 " The childern," said he. " G-goin t leave em." 
 74 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Sinth turned with a look of alarm. 
 
 "C-can t swear, nuther," Strong added. 
 
 "He can take em back," said Miss Strong, 
 with flashing eyes and a flirt of her apron. 
 
 "R-roughlocks!" the Emperor demanded, in 
 a low tone. 
 
 "Who ll tek care of em?" 
 
 "M-me." 
 
 "Heavens!" she exclaimed, her voice full of 
 despair. 
 
 "C-come, Mis Strong." So saying, Silas took 
 the arm of his complaining sister and led her 
 up the hill. 
 
 When he had come to the potato-hole he 
 pointed down at the children. They had 
 dressed with scrupulous care for the eye of him 
 who, not an hour since, had been the greatest 
 of all men. The boy lay in his only wide, white 
 collar and necktie, in his best coat and knee- 
 breeches. The girl had on her beloved brown 
 dress and pink sun-bonnet. It was a picture 
 to fill one s eyes, and all the more if one could 
 have seen the hearts of those little people. A 
 new look came into the face of Sinth. 
 
 "Land sakes!" she exclaimed, raising one of 
 her hands and letting it fall again; "she looks 
 like Sister Thankful don t she, don t she, Silas ?" 
 
 75 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Sinth wiped her eyes with her apron. The 
 heart of Silas Strong had also been deeply 
 touched. 
 
 "R-reg lar angel!" he exclaimed, thought 
 fully. After a moment of silence he added, 
 "K-kind o like leetle f-fawns." 
 
 They turned away, proceeding to the cook- 
 tent. Sinth looked as if she were making up 
 her mind; Silas as if his were already made up. 
 Sinth began to rattle the pots and pans. 
 
 "Sh-h!" Silas hissed, as he fixed the fire. 
 
 " What s the matter?" she demanded. 
 
 "W-wake em up." 
 
 "Hope I will," she retorted, loudly. 
 
 Strong strode off in the trail to Catamount 
 Pond, where he was to get Master. 
 
 Zeb, the bear-dog, had been digging at a fox 
 hole over in Birch Hollow. Growing weary and 
 athirst, by -and -by he relinquished his enter 
 prise, crossed to the trail, and, discovering the 
 scent of strangers, hurried home. Soon he 
 found those curious little folks down in the 
 potato - hole. He had never seen a child be 
 fore. He smelled them over cautiously. His 
 opinion was extremely favorable. His tail be 
 gan to wag, and, unable to restrain his en 
 thusiasm, he expressed himself in a loud bark. 
 
 76 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The children awoke, and Zeb retreated. Socky 
 and Sue rose, the latter crying, while that little, 
 yellow snip of a bear-dog, with cross-eye and 
 curving tail, surveyed them anxiously. He 
 backed away as if to coax them out of the hole. 
 When they had come near he seemed to be 
 wiping one foot after another upon the ground 
 vigorously. As he did so he growled in a man 
 ner calculated to inspire respect. Then he ran 
 around them in a wide circle at high speed, 
 growling a playful challenge. Socky, who had 
 some understanding of dogs, dashed upon Zeb, 
 and soon they were all at play together. 
 
IX 
 
 N Catamount Pond young Master 
 had enjoyed a memorable day. 
 He was an expert fisherman, but 
 the lonely quiet of the scene had 
 been more than fish to him. 
 Along one side of it was a barren ridge, from 
 the top of which a broken column of dead pine, 
 like a shaft of wrought marble, towered straight 
 and high above the woods. The curving shore 
 had a fringe of lily-pads, starred here and there 
 with white tufts. Around thickets of birch, 
 on a point of land, a little cove was the end of 
 all the deer - trails that came out of Jiminy 
 Swamp. It was the gateway of the pond for 
 all who journeyed thither to eat and drink. 
 There were white columns on either side, and 
 opposite the cove s end was a thicket of tama 
 rack, clear of brush. A deep mat of vivid green 
 moss came to the water s edge. When one had 
 rounded the point in his canoe, he could see 
 into those cool, dark alleys of the deer, leading 
 
 78 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 off through slender tamaracks. A little beyond 
 were the rock bastions of Painter Mountain, 
 five hundred feet above the water. 
 
 The young man, having grown weary of fish 
 ing, leaned back, lighted his pipe, and drifted. 
 He could hear the chattering of a hedgehog up 
 in the dry timber, and the scream of a hawk, 
 like the whistle of some craft, leagues away on 
 the sunlit deep of silence. A wild goose steer 
 ed straight across the heavens, far bound, his 
 w r ings making a noise like the cleaving of water 
 and the creak of full sails. He saw the man 
 below him and flung a cry overboard. A great 
 bee, driven out of a lily, threw his warning loop 
 around the head of the intruder and boomed 
 out of hearing. Those threads of sound seemed 
 to bind the tongue of the youth, and to connect 
 his soul with the great silence into which they 
 ran. 
 
 Robert Master had crossed that desert of un 
 certainty which lies between college and the 
 beginning of a career. At last he had made his 
 plan. He would try in his own simple way to 
 serve his country. He was a man of "the new 
 spirit," of pure ideals, of high patriotism. He 
 had set out to try to make his way in politics. 
 
 He had been one of the "bi-g men," dauntless 
 79 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and powerful, who had saved the day for his 
 alma mater more than once on the track and the 
 gridiron. Handsome was a word which had 
 been much applied to him. Hard work in the 
 open air had given him a sturdy figure and 
 added the glow of health and power to a face 
 of unusual refinement. It was the face of a 
 man with whom the capacity for stern trials 
 had come by acquisition and not by inheritance. 
 He had cheerful brown eyes and a smile of 
 good - nature that made him beloved. His 
 father was at the big camp, some twenty miles 
 away, his mother and sister having gone abroad. 
 He and his father were fond of their forest home ; 
 the ladies found it a bore. They loved better 
 the grand life and the great highways of travel. 
 Master sat in the centre of his canoe; an el 
 bow rested on his paddle which lay athwart the 
 gunwales. He drifted awhile. He had chosen 
 his life work but not his life partner. He pict 
 ured to himself the girl he would love, had he 
 ever the luck to find her. He had thrown off 
 his hat, and his dark hair shone in the sunlight. 
 Soon he pushed slowly down the pond. In a 
 moment he stilled his paddle and sat looking 
 into Birch Cove. Two fawns were playing in 
 the edge of the water, while their dam, with the 
 
 80 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 dignity of a matron, stood on the shore looking 
 down at them. The fawns gambolled in the 
 shallows like a colt at play, now and then dash 
 ing their muzzles in the cool water. Their red 
 coats were starred white as if with snow-flakes. 
 The deer stood a moment looking at Master, 
 stamped her feet, and retired into one of the 
 dark alleys. In a moment her fawns followed. 
 
 Turning, the fisherman beheld what gave him 
 even greater surprise. In the shadow of the 
 birches, on a side of the cove and scarcely 
 thirty feet from his canoe, a girl sat looking at 
 him. She wore a blue knit jacket and gray 
 skirt. There was nothing on her head save its 
 mass of light hair that fell curling on her 
 shoulders. Her skin was brown as a berry, 
 her features of a noble and delicate mould. 
 Her eyes, blue and large, made their potent ap 
 peal to the heart of Master. They were like 
 those of his dreams he could never forget them. 
 So far it s the old story of love at sight but 
 listen. For half a moment they looked into 
 each other s eyes. Then the girl, as if she were 
 afraid of him, rose and disappeared among the 
 columns of white birch. 
 
 Long he sat there wondering about this strange 
 vision of girlhood, until he heard the halloo of 
 
 81 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Silas Strong. Turning his canoe, he pushed for 
 the landing. 
 
 "L-lucky?" Strong asked. 
 
 "Twenty fish, and I saw the most beautiful 
 woman in the world." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Sitting on the shore of Birch Cove. Any 
 camp near?" 
 
 The Emperor shook his head thoughtfully as 
 he lighted his pipe. The two made their way 
 up the trail. 
 
 "W- wonder if it s her?" Strong whispered to 
 himself as he walked along. 
 
 After supper that evening Silas Strong gath 
 ered a heap of wood for a bonfire a way he 
 had of celebrating arrivals at Lost River camp. 
 Soon he was running upon hands and knees in 
 the firelight, with Socky and Sue on his back. 
 
 "Silas Strong!" was the scornful exclamation 
 of Sinth, as she took a seat by the fire. 
 
 "P-present!" he answered, as he went on, the 
 children laughing merrily. 
 
 " Be you a man or a fool?" 
 
 " Both," he answered, ceasing his harlequinade. 
 
 Sinth began her knitting, wearing a look of 
 injury. "Plumb crazy bout them air chil- 
 dern!" she exclaimed. 
 
 82 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The " Emperor of the Woods " sat on a log, 
 breathing heavily, with Sue and Socky upon 
 his knees. 
 
 "B-bears plenty, Mis Strong," was the gen 
 tle reply of Silas. 
 
 " Mis Strong !" said she, as if insulted. " What 
 ye Mis Strongin me for?" 
 
 When others were present she was wont to 
 fling back upon him this burning query. Now 
 it seemed to stimulate him to a rather unusual 
 effort. 
 
 "S-some folks b-better when ye miss em," 
 he suggested, with a smile of good- nature. 
 
 Miss Strong gathered up her knitting and 
 promptly retired from the scene. Sue and 
 Socky lay back on the lap of their Uncle Silas 
 looking into the fire. They now saw in him 
 great possibilities. Socky, in particular, had 
 begun to regard him as likely to be useful if not 
 highly magnificent. 
 
 Sue lay back and began to make a drowsy 
 display of her learning: 
 
 " Intry, mintry, cutry corn, 
 Apple-seed an a^ie^thorn. Jyu>&\ 
 Wire, brier, limber lock, 
 Twelve geese all in a white flock; 
 Some fly east an some fly west 
 An some fly over the cuckoo s nest." 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Miss Strong returned shortly and found the 
 children asleep on the knees of their uncle. In a 
 moment Silas turned his ear and listened. 
 
 "Hark!" he whispered. 
 
 They could hear some one approaching on 
 the dark trail. A man oddly picturesque, with 
 a rifle on his shoulder, strode into the firelight. 
 He wore knee-breeches and a coat of buckskin. 
 He had a rugged face, a sturdy figure, and was, 
 one would have guessed, some sixty years of 
 age. 
 
 A fringe of thin, white hair showed below his 
 cap. He had a white mustache, through which 
 a forgotten cigar protruded. His black eyes 
 glowed in the firelight beneath silvered brows. 
 He nodded as they greeted him. His ruddy face 
 ^wrinkled thoughtfully as he turned to Gordon. 
 
 "It s a long time," said he, offering his hand. 
 
 "Some years," Gordon answered, as he took 
 the hand of Dunmore. 
 
 "W-welcome!" said Silas Strong. 
 
 "Boneka!" Dunmore exclaimed, gruffly, but 
 with a faint smile. For years it had been his 
 customary word of greeting. 
 
 "The Emperor and his court!" he went on, as 
 he looked about him. "Who are these?" He 
 surveyed the sleeping children. 
 
 84 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "The Duke and Duchess of Hillsborough 
 nephew and niece of the Emperor," Master an 
 swered, giving them titles which clung to Socky 
 and Sue for a twelvemonth. 
 
 4 The first children I ve ever seen in the 
 woods except my own," said the white-haired 
 man. 
 
 Zeb ran around the chair of the Emperor, 
 growling and leaping playfully at Socky and 
 Sue. 
 
 "The court jester!" said Dunmore, looking 
 down at the dog. 
 
 He stood a moment with his back to the blaz 
 ing logs. 
 
 Then he went to the chair of the Emperor, 
 and put his hand under the chin of little Sue 
 and looked into her face. In half a moment he 
 took her in his arms and sat down by the fire 
 side. The child was yawning wearily. 
 
 "Heigh-ho!" he exclaimed; "let s away to the 
 Isles of Rest." 
 
 He rocked back and forth as he held her 
 against his breast and sang this lullaby: 
 
 " Jack Tot was as big as a baby s thumb, 
 And his belly could hold but a drop and a crumb, 
 And a wee little sailor was he Heigh-ho! 
 A very fine sailor was he. 
 
 8s 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " He made his boat of a cocoa-nut shell, 
 He sails her at night and he steers her well 
 
 With the wing of a bumble-bee Heigh-ho! 
 . With the wing of a bumble-bee. 
 
 " She is rigged with the hair of a lady s curl, 
 And her lantern is made of a gleaming pearl, 
 
 And it never goes out in a gale Heigh-ho! 
 It never goes out in a gale. 
 
 " Her mast is made of a very long thorn, 
 She calls her crew with a cricket s horn, 
 
 And a spider spun her sail Heigh-ho! 
 A spider he spun her sail. 
 
 " She carries a cargo of baby souls, 
 And she crosses the terrible nightmare shoals 
 
 On her way to the Isles of Rest Heigh-ho! 
 We re off for the Isles of Rest. 
 
 " And often they smile as the good ship sails 
 Then the skipper is telling incredible tales 
 With many a merry jest Heigh-ho! 
 He s fond of a merry jest. 
 
 " When the little folks yawn they are ready to go, 
 And Jack Tot is lifting his sail Hee-hoo! 
 
 In the swell how the little folks nod He-hoo ! 
 Just see how the little folks nod. 
 
 " And some have sailed off when the sky was black, 
 And the poor little sailors have never come back, 
 But have steered for the City of God Heigh-ho ! 
 The beautiful City of God!" 
 86 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The white-haired man closed his eyes and his 
 voice sank low, and the last words fell softly in 
 a solemn silence that lasted for a long moment 
 after the lullaby was finished. Presently Sinth 
 came to take the sleeping child. 
 
 "These little folks will take our peace away 
 from us," said he, in a warning tone. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "The call of the sown land is in their voices," 
 said he. "They give me sad thoughts." 
 
 Sinth smiled and introduced the young man 
 to Dunmore. 
 
 "Boneka!" said the latter as they shook 
 hands. 
 
 The curiosity of Master was aroused by the 
 strange greeting. He smiled, and answered, 
 modestly, "I don t understand you." 
 
 The stranger sat silent, gazing into the fire, 
 until Silas, who was evidently in the secret, said 
 to his guest, "Tell em." 
 
 " There was once a very wise and honored 
 chief," began Dunmore, after a pause, and look 
 ing into the eyes of the young man. " Long be 
 fore the lumber hunter had begun to shear the 
 hills, he dwelt among them, with his good people. 
 He was a great law-giver, and his law was all in 
 two words Be kind . Kindness begat kindness , 
 
 87 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and peace reigned, to be broken only by some 
 far-come invader. But as time went on quarrels 
 arose and the law was forgotten. Thereupon 
 the chief invited a great council and organized 
 the Society of the Magic Word. Every member 
 promised that whenever the greeting Boneka 
 were given him, he would smile and bow and 
 answer, Ranokoli. The greeting meant Peace, 
 and the answer, I forgive. 
 
 "Then, one by one, the law-giver called his 
 councillors before him, and to each he said: 
 The Great Spirit is in this greeting. I defy 
 you to hear it and keep a sober face. 
 
 "Then he said Boneka, and the man would 
 try to resist the influence of the spirit, but soon 
 smiled in spite of himself, amid the laughter 
 of the tribe, and said Ranokoli. Thereafter, 
 when a quarrel arose between two people, an out 
 sider, approaching, would greet them with the 
 magic word, and immediately they would bow 
 and smile, and answer, I forgive. But, nev 
 ertheless, if one had wronged another he was 
 justly punished by the chief. So it was that a 
 great ruler made an end of quarrels among his 
 people." 
 
 "A grand idea!" said young Master. "Let s 
 all join that society." 
 
 88 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Those in favor of the suggestion will please 
 say ay." It was Dunmore who put the ques 
 tion, and, after a vote in its favor, dictated the 
 pledge, as follows: 
 
 * For value received from my Loving Father, I prom 
 ise to give to any of His children, on demand, a smile 
 and full forgiveness." 
 
 All signed it, and so half in play the old So 
 ciety of the Magic Word was revived at Lost 
 River camp. 
 
 The white-haired man rose and walked to the 
 trail and turned suddenly. 
 
 "Strong," said he, " I m leaving the woods for 
 a week. If they need your help at home they ll 
 send word to you." 
 
 With that he disappeared in the dark trail. 
 
 The three other men still sat by the camp-fire. 
 
 "Who is Dunmore?" Master inquired, turning 
 to Gordon. 
 
 The latter lighted his pipe and began the 
 story. 
 
 "An odd man who s spent the most of his life 
 in the woods," said Gordon. "Came in here for 
 his health long ago from I don t know where; 
 grew strong, and has always stuck to the woods. 
 Had to work, like the rest of us, when I knew 
 7 89 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 him. Thirty years ago he began work in this 
 part of the country as a boom rat so they tell 
 me. It was on a big drive way down the Os- 
 wegatchie. Before we bought the Bear Moun 
 tain and Lost River tracts we were looking for a 
 good cruiser some one to go through here and 
 estimate the timber for us. Well, Dunmore was 
 recommended for the job, and we hired him. 
 He and I travelled over some thirty thousand 
 acres, camping wherever night overtook us. It 
 did not take me long to discover that he was a 
 gifted man. Many an evening, as we sat by 
 our lonely fire in the woods, I have wept and 
 laughed over his poems." 
 
 "Poems!" Master exclaimed. 
 
 "That s the only word for it," Gordon went 
 on. "The man is a woods lover and a poet. 
 One night he told me part of his life story. Sile, 
 you remember when the old iron company shut 
 down their works at Tifton. Well, everybody 
 left the place except Tom Muir, the postmaster. 
 He was a widower, and lived with one child a 
 girl about nineteen years old when the forest 
 village died. Dunmore married that girl. He 
 told me how beautiful she was and how he 
 loved her. Well, they didn t get along together. 
 He was fond of the woods and she was not. 
 
 90 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 For five years they lived together in the edge of 
 the wilderness. Then she left him. Well poor 
 woman! it was a lonely life, and some tourist 
 fell in love with her, they tell me. I don t 
 know about that. Anyhow, Dunmore was terri 
 bly embittered. A little daughter had been born 
 to them. She was then three years of age." 
 
 "She s the angel y-you met to-day over by 
 the p-pond," Strong put in, looking at Master. 
 
 Gordon lighted his pipe and went on with his 
 story. 
 
 " Dunmore said that a relative had left him a 
 little money. I remember we were camping 
 that night on the shore of Buckhorn. Its beauty 
 appealed to him. He said he d like to buy that 
 section and build him a camp on the pond and 
 spend the rest of his life there. 
 
 " But, said I, you couldn t bring up your 
 daughter in the woods. Buckhorn was then 
 thirty miles from anywhere. 
 
 " That s just what I wish to do, he answer 
 ed. The world is so full of d d spaniels I 
 
 remember that was the phrase he used and 
 there s so much infamy among men, I d rather 
 keep her out of it. I want her to be as pure at 
 twenty as she is now. I can teach her all I 
 wish her to know. 
 
 91 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Well, I sold him the Buckhorn tract. He 
 built his camp, and moved there with the little 
 girl and his mother a woman of poor health 
 and well past middle age. He brought an old 
 colored man and his wife to be their servants, 
 and there they are to-day Dunmore and his 
 mother and the girl and the two servants, now 
 grown rather aged, they tell me." 
 
 "They have never left the woods?" said Mas 
 ter, as if it were too incredible. 
 
 " Dunmore goes to New York, but not oftener 
 than once a year," Gordon went on. "He has 
 property a good deal of property, I suppose, 
 and has to give it some attention. The others 
 have never left the woods." 
 
 " Sends home b-big boxes, an* I t-tote em in," 
 Silas explained. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that Dunmore s 
 daughter has never seen the clearing since she 
 was a baby?" 
 
 Strong s interest was thoroughly aroused. 
 He took ofl his coat and laid it down carefully, 
 as if he were about to go in swimming. He 
 was wont to do this when his thoughts demand 
 ed free and full expression. 
 
 " B-been t Tillbury post-office w-with the ol* 
 man n-no further," Strong explained, "Dun- 
 
 92 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 more says she ain t never s-seen a child cept 
 one. That was a b-baby. Some man an his 
 w-wife come through here w-with it from the 
 n-north th-three year ago." 
 
 "Fact is, I think he feared for a long time 
 that his wife would try to get possession of the 
 child," said Gordon. "Late years, I under 
 stand, the girl has had to take care of the old 
 lady. In a letter to me once Dunmore referred 
 to his daughter as the little nun of the green 
 veil, and spoke of her devotion to her grand 
 mother." 
 
 Gordon rose and went to his bed in one of the 
 cabins. Strong and the young man kept their 
 seats at the camp-fire, talking of Dunmore and 
 his daughter and their life in the woods. The 
 Emperor, who felt for this lonely child of the 
 forest, talked from a sense of duty. 
 
 "S~sail in," he presently said. "S-sail in an 
 t-tame her." 
 
 " I don t know how to begin." 
 
 "She ll be there t-to-morrer sure," Strong de 
 clared. 
 
 "So shall I," said the young man. 
 
 "C-cal late she s w-wownded, too," Strong 
 suggested. " B-be careful. She s like a w-wild 
 deer." 
 
 93 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 They were leaving the fire on their way to bed. 
 The young man stopped and repeated the words 
 incredulously " Like a wild deer! 
 
 u T-take the ch-childern with ye/ Strong ad 
 vised. "She ll w-want t look em over." 
 
OCKY woke early next morning, 
 and lay looking up at the antlers, 
 guns, and rifles which adorned the 
 wall. On a table near him were 
 some of the treasures of that 
 sylvan household a little book entitled Me- 
 linda, a dingy Testament, a plush-covered pho 
 tograph-album, and a stuffed bird on a wire 
 bough. 
 
 Sinth and the album were inseparable. She 
 sometimes left the dingy Testament or the little 
 book entitled Melinda at her Pitkin home, but 
 not the plush-covered album. That was the 
 one link which connected her, not only with the 
 past, but with a degree of respectability, and 
 even with a vague hope of paradise. What a 
 pantheon of family deities! What a museum 
 of hair and whiskers! What a study of the 
 effect of terror, headache, rheumatism, weari 
 ness, Sunday apparel, tight boots, and reckless 
 photography upon the human countenance! 
 
 95 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Therein was the face of Sinth, indescribably 
 gnarled by the lens; a daguerreotype of her 
 grandmother adorned with lace and tokens of a 
 more cheerful time in the family history; faces 
 and forms which for Sinth recalled her play- 
 days, and were gone as hopelessly. 
 
 Just after supper the night before, Socky 
 had seen his uncle apply grease to a number of 
 boots and guns. The boy had been permitted 
 to put his hands in the thick oil of the bear, and, 
 while its odor irked him a little, it had, as it 
 were, reduced the friction on his bearings. Since 
 then the gear of his imagination had seemed to 
 work easier, and had carried him far towards the 
 goal of manhood. 
 
 Immediately after waking he found the bot 
 tle of bear s-oil and poured some on his own 
 boots and rubbed it in. He was now delighted 
 with the look of them. It was wonderful stuff, 
 that bear s-oil. It made everything look shiny 
 and cheerful, and gave one a grateful sense of 
 high accomplishment. 
 
 Soon he had greased the bird and the bush, 
 and the oil had dripped on the album and the 
 dingy Testament and the little book entitled 
 Melinda. Then he greased the feet and legs 
 of Zeb, who lay asleep in a corner, and who 
 
 96 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 promptly awoke and ran across the floor and 
 leaped through an open window, and hid him 
 self under a boat, as if for proper consideration 
 of ways and means. In a few moments Socky 
 had greased the shoes of his sister, and a ramrod 
 which lay on the window-sill, and taken the lat 
 ter into bed with him. 
 
 Soon he began to miss the good Aunt Marie, 
 for, generally, when he first awoke he had gone 
 and got into bed with her. He held to the 
 ramrod and sustained himself with manly re 
 flections, whispering as they came to mind: 
 "I m going to be a man. I ain t no cry-baby. 
 I m going to kill bears and send the money to 
 my father, an my Uncle Silas will give me a 
 rocking-horse an a silver dofunny he said he 
 would." 
 
 He ceased to whisper. An imaginary bear 
 had approached the foot of the bed just in 
 time to save him, for the last of his reflections 
 had been interrupted by little sobs. He struck 
 bravely with the ramrod and felled the bear, and 
 got out of bed and skinned him and hung his 
 hide over the back of a chair. He found some 
 potatoes in a sack beside the fireplace, and put 
 down a row for the bear s body and some more 
 for the feet and legs. Then he greased the 
 
 97 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 bear s feet and got into bed again, for Sue had 
 awoke and begun to cry. 
 
 "What s the matter?" he inquired. 
 
 "I want my Aunt Marie," the girl sobbed. 
 
 "Stop, Uncle Silas 11 hear you," said Socky. 
 
 "I don t care." 
 
 "I d be shamed," the boy answered, his own 
 voice trembling with suppressed emotion. 
 
 Since a talk he had had with his father the 
 day before, he felt a large and expanding sense 
 of responsibility for his sister. Just now an 
 idea occurred to him why shouldn t he, in his 
 own person, supply the deficiencies of the great 
 man they had come to see? 
 
 " I ll be your Uncle Silas, " he remarked. " I m 
 a man now, an I ve killed a bear." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Dead on the floor there." 
 
 She covered her face with the blankets. 
 
 "I m going to have a pair o moccasins an a 
 rifle, an I ll carry you on my b-back." He had 
 stammered on the last word after the manner of 
 his uncle. 
 
 Just then they heard a singular creaking out 
 side the door, and before either had time to 
 speak it was flung open. They were both sit 
 ting up in bed as their Uncle Silas entered. 
 
 98 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I tnum!" said he, cheerfully. 
 
 Suddenly he saw the bird and the books and 
 the table-top and the potatoes and the ramrod 
 and the hands of Socky. He whistled ruefully; 
 his smile faded. 
 
 "W-well greased!" he said, looking down at 
 the books and the bird. 
 
 He found a gun-rag and wiped up the oil as 
 best he could. 
 
 "She ll r-raise " The remark ended in a 
 cough as he wiped the books. Then he covered 
 them with an empty meal-bag. 
 
 The children began to dress while Strong went 
 half-way up the ladder and called to Gordon, 
 still asleep in the loft above. Then he sat on 
 the bed and helped the boy and girl get their 
 clothes buttoned. 
 
 "My little f-fawns!" he muttered, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 He had sat up until one o clock at work in 
 his little shop by the light of a lantern. He had 
 sawed some disks from a round beech log and 
 bored holes in them. He had also made axles 
 and a reach and tongue, and put them together. 
 Then he had placed a cross-bar and a pivot on 
 the front axle and fastened a starch-box over 
 all. The result was a wagon, which he had 
 
 99 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 arisen early to finish, and with which he had 
 come to wake "the little fawns." Now, when 
 they were dressed, he sat them side by side in 
 the wagon-box and clattered off down the trail. 
 
 At first the children sat silent, oppressed as 
 they were by the odor of bear s-oil, not yet en 
 tirely removed from their hands and faces. As 
 the wagon proceeded they began to laugh and 
 call the dog. Zeb peered from under the friend 
 ly cover of the boat, and gave a yearning bark 
 which seemed to express regret, not wholly un- 
 mingled with accusation, that on account of 
 other engagements he would be unable to ac 
 cept their kind invitation. At the boat-house 
 were soap and towel and glad deliverance from 
 the flavor of the bear. On their return "Mis 
 Strong" met them at the door of the cook-tent. 
 She raised both hands above her head. 
 
 "My album!" she gasped. 
 
 "T-y-ty!" the Emperor whispered. 
 
 "An the book my mother gave me!" she ex 
 claimed, her tone rising from despair to anger. 
 "They re ruined Silas Strong!" 
 
 "N-nonsense," said her brother, calmly. 
 
 " Nonsense!" she exclaimed, tauntingly. " Silas 
 Strong, do you know what has been done to 
 em?" 
 
 100 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "G-greased," he answered, mildly. "D-do 
 em good." 
 
 She ran into the cook-tent and returned with 
 the sacred album. There was an odd menace 
 in her figure as she displayed the book. She 
 spread it open. 
 
 "Look at my grandfather!" she demanded. 
 
 The bear s-oil had added emphasis to a subtle, 
 inherent suggestion of smothered profanity in 
 the image of her ancestor. It had, as it were, 
 given clearness to an expression of great physi 
 cal discomfort. 
 
 "L-limber him up," said the Emperor, quite 
 soberly. 
 
 Master and Gordon were now approaching. 
 The former took off his hat and bowed to the in 
 dignant Sinth and blandly remarked, " Boneka, 
 madam." 
 
 The men had begun to laugh. Sinth changed 
 color. She looked down. A smile began to 
 light her thin face. She turned away, repeated 
 the magic word in a low voice, and added, "I 
 forgive." She walked hurriedly through the 
 cook- tent to her own quarters, and sat down 
 and wept as if, in truth, the oil had entered her 
 soul. It was, in a way, pathetic her devotion 
 to the tawdry plush and this poor shadow of 
 
 101 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 her ancestor and the historian has a respect 
 for it more profound, possibly, than his words 
 may indicate. She would have given her album 
 for her friend, and it may be questioned if any 
 man hath greater love than this. 
 
 When she entered the dinner -tent and sat 
 down to stir batter for the excellent "flapjacks " 
 of Lost River camp, the children came and 
 kissed her and stood looking up into her face. 
 Socky had begun to comprehend his relation 
 to the trouble. Shame, guilt, and uncertainty 
 were in his countenance. Urgent queries touch 
 ing the use and taste and constitution of batter 
 and its feeling on the index-finger of one s hand 
 were pressing upon him, but he saw that, in 
 common decency, they must be deferred. 
 
 "Aunt Sinthy," said the little Duke of Hills- 
 borough. 
 
 "What?" she answered. 
 
 "I won t never grease your album again." 
 
 The woman laughed, placed the pan on the 
 table, and put her arms around the child. Then 
 she answered, in a tone of good-nature, "If it 
 had been anything else in this world, I wouldn t 
 have minded." 
 
 Just then Zeb slowly entered the cook-tent. 
 He had got rid of some of the oil, but had ac- 
 
 IO2 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 quired a cough. The hair on every leg was 
 damp and matted. He seemed to doubt his 
 fitness for social enjoyment. In a tentative 
 manner he surveyed the breakfast-party, as if 
 to study his effect upon the human species. 
 The Emperor patted him and felt of his legs. 
 
 "What s the matter o him?" Sinth inquired. 
 
 "G-greased!" said the Emperor, with a loud 
 laugh, in which the campers joined, whereat the 
 dog fled from the cook-tent. 
 
 " S-slippery mornin !" Strong exclaimed, while 
 he stood looking through the doorway. 
 
 "Hard t keep yer feet," said Sinth, who had 
 caught the contagion of good feeling which had 
 begun to prevail. It was, indeed, a remark not 
 without some spiritual significance. 
 
 So it befell : the spirit of that old chief whose 
 body had long been given to the wooded hills 
 came into Lost River camp. 
 
 Gordon hurried away after breakfast. While 
 the children stood looking down the trail and 
 waving their hands and weeping, Silas Strong 
 ran past them two or three times with the 
 noisy little wagon. Its consoling clatter silenced 
 them. There had been a deep purpose in the 
 heart of the Emperor while he spent half the 
 night in his workshop. Gordon had laughingly 
 
 103 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 explained the cause of their disappointment on 
 arriving at Lost River camp. Strong was try 
 ing to recover their esteem. 
 
 "C-come on!" he shouted. 
 
 Soon Socky and Sue sat in the little wagon 
 on their way to Catamount Pond with their 
 Uncle Silas and the young fisherman. 
 
XI 
 
 HE sky was clear, and the rays 
 of the sun fell hot upon the dry 
 woods that morning when Master 
 and the children and their Uncle 
 Silas reached the landing at Cata 
 mount. Its eastern shore lay deep under cool 
 shadows. The water plane was like taut can 
 vas on which a glowing picture of wooded shore 
 and sky and mountain had been painted. Gold 
 en robins darted across a cove and sang in the 
 tree- tops. 
 
 Master righted his canoe and put the children 
 aboard and took his place in the stern-seat. 
 
 "I ll slip over to R-Robin," said the Emperor 
 as he shoved the canoe into deep water. With 
 him to "slip" meant to go, and in his speech he 
 always "slipped" from one point to another. 
 
 Master pushed through the pads and slowly 
 
 cut the still shadow. The inverted towers of 
 
 Painter Mountain began to quake beneath his 
 
 canoe. Sue sat in the bow and Socky behind 
 
 8 105 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 her. The curly hair of the girl, which had, in 
 deed, the silken yellow of a corn-tassel, showed 
 beneath her little pink bonnet. Something 
 about her suggested the rose half open. Socky 
 wore his rabato and necktie and best suit of 
 clothes. They were both in purple and fine 
 linen, so to speak no one had thought to tell 
 them better. 
 
 As they came near the point of Birch Cove, 
 Master began to turn the bow and check his 
 headway. There, on a moss-covered rock, stood 
 the maiden whom he had seen the day before. 
 A crow with a small scarlet ribbon about his 
 neck clung upon her shoulder. The girl was 
 looking at the two children. The bird rose on 
 his wings and, after a moment of hesitation, 
 flew towards them, the ends of the scarlet ribbon 
 fluttering in the air. Socky drew back as the 
 crow lighted on a gunwale near his side. Sue 
 clung to the painter and sat looking backward 
 with curiosity and fear in her face. The crow 
 turned his head, surveying them as if he were, 
 indeed, quite overcome with amazement. 
 
 "Sit still," said Master, quietly. "He won t 
 hurt you." 
 
 The bird rose in the air again, and, darting 
 downward, seized a shiny buckle above the 
 
 106 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 visor of the boy s cap, which lay on the canoe 
 bottom, and bore cap and all to his young mis 
 tress. Socky began to cry with alarm. 
 
 Master reassured him and paddled sftowly 
 towards the moss-covered rock. Silently his 
 bow touched the shore. He stuck his paddle in 
 the sand. He stepped into the shallow water 
 and helped the children ashore. In the edge of 
 the tamaracks and now partly hidden by their 
 foliage, Miss Dunmore stood looking at the 
 children. Her figure was tall, erect, and oddly 
 picturesque. Somehow she reminded Master of 
 a deer halted in its flight by curiosity. Her face, 
 charming in form and expression, betrayed a 
 childish timidity and innocence. Her large, 
 blue eyes were full of wonder. Pretty symbols 
 of girlish vanity adorned her figure. There were 
 fresh violets on her bodice, and a delicate, lacy 
 length of the moss-vine woven among her curls. 
 The girl s hair, wonderfully full and rich in color, 
 had streaks of gold in it. A beaded belt and 
 holster of Indian make held a small pistol. 
 
 "Miss Dunmore, I believe?" he ventured. 
 
 The girl retired a step or two and stood look 
 ing timidly, first at him and then at the chil 
 dren. Her manner betrayed excitement. She 
 addressed him with hesitation. " My my name 
 
 107 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 .is Edith Dunmore," she said, in a tone just 
 above a whisper. With trembling hands she 
 picked a spray of tamarack that for a moment 
 obscured her face. 
 
 "You are the nun of the green veil. I have 
 heard of you," said Master. 
 
 "I I must not speak to you, sir," she said, 
 as she retreated a little farther. 
 
 "My name is Master Robert Master," said 
 he. "I shall stay only a minute, but these chil 
 dren would like to know you." While speaking 
 he had returned to his canoe. Socky and Sue 
 stood still, looking up at the maiden. 
 
 "Children!" she exclaimed, in a low, sweet, 
 tremulous tone, as she took a step towards them. 
 "The wonderful little children?" 
 
 "Sometimes I think they are brownies," he 
 answered, with a smile of amusement. " But 
 their uncle calls them little fawns." 
 
 Her right hand, which held the spray of tam 
 arack, fell to her side; her left hand clung to a 
 branch on which the crow sat a little above her 
 shoulder, and her cheek lay upon her arm as she 
 looked down wistfully, fondly, at the children. 
 Her blue eyes were full of curiosity. 
 
 Socky and Sue regarded the beautiful maiden 
 with a longing akin to that in her. In all there 
 
 108 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 was a deep, mysterious desire which had grown- 
 out of nature s need in them for a mother, in 
 her for the endearing touch of those newly come 
 into the world and for their high companionship. 
 Moreover, these two little ones, who had now a 
 dim and imperfect recollection of their mother, 
 had shaped an ideal partly through the help of 
 Gordon to take its place. Therein they saw a 
 lady, young and beautiful and more like this one 
 who stood before them than like any they had 
 yet beheld. Sue grasped the hand of her brother, 
 and both stood gazing at the maiden, but neither 
 spoke nor moved for a moment. Edith Dun- 
 more leaned forward a little, looking into their 
 faces. 
 
 "Can you not speak to me?" she asked. 
 
 Socky began to be embarrassed; his eyes fell; 
 he shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 Edith Dunmore looked up at the stalwart 
 figure of the young man. Their eyes met. She 
 quickly turned away. The tame crow, on the 
 bough above, began to laugh and chatter as if 
 he thought it all an excellent joke. 
 
 "May I take them in my arms?" she ask 
 ed, with hesitation. 
 
 "Yes; but I warn you they have a way of 
 stealing one s heart." 
 
 109 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Ah-h-h-h-h!" croaked the little crow, in a 
 warning cry, as if he had seen at once the peril 
 of it. 
 
 She had begun to move slowly, almost timidly, 
 towards the children. She knelt before them 
 and took the little hand of Sue in hers and 
 looked upon it with wonder. She touched it 
 with her lips; she pressed it against her cheek; 
 she trembled beneath its power. The touch of 
 the child s hand was, for her, it would almost 
 seem, like that of One on the eyes of Bartimeus. 
 Suddenly, as by a miracle, Edith Dunmore rose 
 out of childhood. The veil of the nun was rent 
 away. She was a woman fast coming into riches 
 of unsuspected inheritance. She put her arms 
 about the two and gently drew them towards 
 her and held them close. Her embrace and the 
 touch of her breast upon theirs were grateful 
 to them, and they kissed her. Her eyes were 
 wet, her sweet voice full of familiar but un- 
 comprehended longing when she said, "Dear 
 little children!" 
 
 " Tut, tut!" said the tame crow, who had crept 
 to the end of his branch, where he stood look 
 ing down at them. In a moment he began to 
 break the green twigs and let them fall on the 
 head of his mistress. 
 
 no 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Sue felt the hair and looked into the face and 
 eyes of the maiden with wondering curiosity. 
 Socky ran his ringers over the beaded belt. 
 Both had a suspicion which they dared not ex 
 press that here was an angel in some way re 
 lated to their mother. 
 
 You are a beautiful lady," said the boy, 
 with childish frankness. 
 
 Master has often tried to describe the scene. 
 He confesses that words, even though vivid and 
 well spoken, cannot make one to understand 
 the something which lay beneath all said and 
 done, and which went to his heart so that for a 
 time he turned and walked away from them. 
 
 "Do you remember when you were fairies?" 
 the girl asked of the children. 
 
 The latter shook their heads. 
 
 "Tell us about the fairies," Sue proposed, 
 timidly. 
 
 "They are old, old people so my father has 
 told me," said the beautiful lady. "They came 
 into this world thousands of years ago riding 
 in a great cloud that was drawn by wild geese. 
 The fairies came down, each on a big flake of 
 snow, and got off in the tree -tops and never 
 went away. At first they were the teentiest 
 folks so little that a hundred of them could 
 
 in 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 stand on a maple leaf and very, very old. My 
 father says they were never young in their lives, 
 and I guess they have always lived. They rode 
 around on the backs of the birds and saw every 
 thing in the world and had such a good time 
 they all began to grow young. Now, as they 
 grew young they grew bigger and bigger, and 
 every spring a lot more of the little old people 
 came out of the sky and began to grow young 
 like the others. And by-and-by some of them 
 were as big as your thumb and bigger." 
 
 "How big do they grow?" the boy asked. 
 
 "As they grow young they keep growing big 
 ger. By-and-by the birds cannot carry them. 
 Then they have to walk, and for the first time 
 in their lives they begin to get hungry and learn 
 to cry and nobody knows what is the matter with 
 them. The fairies complain about the noise 
 they make, and one night a little old woman 
 takes them down into the woods to get them 
 out of the way. And violets grow wherever 
 their feet touch the ground, and they sit in a 
 huckleberry bush and make a noise like the cry 
 of a spotted fawn. The fawns hear them and 
 know very well what they are crying for. The 
 fawns have always loved them. When the 
 fairies come down out of the tree-tops they 
 
 112 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 always ride on the fawns, and where they have 
 sat you can see a little white spot about as big as 
 a flake of snow. That s why the fawns are 
 spotted, and you know how shy they are they 
 mustn t let anybody see the fairies. Well, the 
 young ones sit there in a huckleberry bush 
 crying. The little animals come and lick their 
 faces and tell them of a wonderful spring where 
 milk flows out of a little hill and has a magic 
 power in it, for even if one were crying and 
 tasted the milk he always became happy. The 
 young fairies climb on the backs of the fawns 
 and ride away. By-and-by the fawns come 
 to their mothers and their mothers tell them 
 that no one who has teeth in his head can 
 drink at the spring. So they wonder what to 
 do. By-and-by they go to the woodpecker, for 
 he has a pair of forceps and can pull anything, 
 and the woodpecker pulls their teeth. Then 
 the young fairies do nothing but ride around 
 each on a spotted fawn and drink at the won 
 derful spring and grow fat and lazy, and the 
 birds pull every hair out of their heads to build 
 nests with. They live down in the woods, for 
 they cannot climb the trees any more, and one 
 day they fall asleep for the first time and tumble 
 off the fawns and lie on the ground dreaming. 
 
 "3 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 They dream of the fairy-heaven where they shall 
 grow old again and each shall have a mother 
 and his own wonderful spring of milk. Now that- 
 day trees begin to grow in the ground beneath 
 them. The trees grow fast, and all in a night 
 they lift the sleeping fairies far above the 
 ground. The wind rocks them and they lie 
 dreaming in the tree-tops until a crane, as he is 
 crossing over the sky, looks down and sees them 
 and goes and takes them away. You know the 
 cranes have to go through the sky every day 
 and pick up the young fairies." 
 
 She paused and sat holding the hands of little 
 Sue and looking at them as if their beauty were 
 a great wonder. 
 
 "Where do they take them?" 
 
 Master was returning, and the girl rose like one 
 afraid and whispered to the children, " I will tell 
 you if if you will come again." 
 
 "I shall ask -your father if I may come and 
 see you," said Master as he came near. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" the bird croaked, fluttering in 
 the air and lighting on the shoulder of his mis 
 tress. 
 
 The children stepped aside quickly, as if in 
 fear of it. 
 
 She took the crow on her finger and held him 
 114 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 at arm s-length. He turned and tried to catch 
 an end of the scarlet ribbon. She was a picture 
 then to remind one of the days of falconry. She 
 ran a few paces up a green aisle in the thicket. 
 She stopped where the young man was unable 
 to see her. 
 
 "Could could you bring the children again, 
 sir?" she asked. 
 
 "On Thursday, at the same hour," he an 
 swered. 
 
 He heard again the warning of the little crow 
 and her footsteps growing fainter in the dark 
 trail of the deer. 
 
 
XII 
 
 ASTER paddled slowly to the land 
 ing where he had left Strong, and 
 gathered lilies while they waited. 
 He pushed up to the shore as soon 
 as the Emperor had arrived. 
 "Sp ilt," said the latter, pointing in the di 
 rection of Robin Lake. 
 
 "You mean that we cannot use the camp 
 over there?" 
 
 "Ay-ah," Strong almost whispered, with a 
 face in which perspiration was mingled with 
 regret and geniality. 
 "S-see er?" 
 
 * Yes , " Master answered . * * The children were 
 a great help. She fell in love with them. We 
 are to meet her again Thursday." 
 
 "Uh-huh!" Strong exclaimed, in a tone which 
 seemed to say, "I told you so." 
 
 "S-sociable?" he inquired, after a little pause. 
 "No, but interested." 
 
 "Uh-huh, says I!" the Emperor exclaimed 
 116 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 again, with playful conceit. When he was in 
 the mood of self -congratulation he had an odd 
 way of bringing out those two words " says I." 
 
 " She was afraid of me. I backed away and 
 said very little," Master explained. 
 
 "Th-they ll t-tame her," the Emperor assured 
 him. 
 
 "She has a wonderful crow with her," said 
 the young man. 
 
 "Her g-guide," Strong explained. "Alwus 
 knows the n-nighest way home." 
 
 " If you ll help me, I ll make my camp here," 
 said Master. 
 
 "Ay-ah," the Emperor answered. 
 
 His manner and his odd remark were full of 
 approval and almost affectionate admiration. In 
 half a moment his tongue lazily added, " L-lean 
 her gin th-that air rock." In his conversation 
 he conferred the feminine gender upon all in 
 animate things a kind of compliment to the 
 sex he revered so highly. 
 
 "How long will it take?" 
 
 "Day," said Strong, surveying the ground. 
 
 "I have to speak in Hillsborough on the 
 Fourth. Suppose we tackle it on my return?" 
 
 Strong agreed, and while he and the children 
 set out for camp Master remained to fish, 
 
 117 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Two "sports" had arrived in the absence of 
 the Emperor and were shooting at a mark a 
 pastime so utterly foolish in the view of Silas 
 Strong that he would rarely permit any one at 
 Lost River camp to indulge in it. He who dis 
 charged his rifle without sufficient provocation 
 was roughly classed with that breed of hounds 
 which had learned no better than to bark at a 
 squirrel. 
 
 "Paunchers!" he muttered, as he came up 
 the trail. 
 
 It should be explained here that he divided 
 all "would-be sportsmen" into three classes 
 namely, swishers, pouters, and paunchers. A 
 swisher was one who filled the air within reach 
 of his cast, catching trees and bushes, but no 
 fish; a pouter, one who baited and hauled his 
 fish as if it were no better than a bull-pout; a 
 pauncher was wont to hit his deer "in the mid 
 dle" and never saw him again. 
 
 The Emperor stopped suddenly. He had 
 seen a twig fall near him and heard the whiz 
 of a bullet. 
 
 "Whoa!" he called, his voice ringing in the 
 timber. "H-hold on!" 
 
 The Migleys father and son of Migleyville, 
 hastened to greet the " Emperor of the Woods." 
 
 ix8 
 
i&ilas Strong 
 
 They were tb.> heralds of the great king of 
 which Strong haul complained that night he laid 
 his heart bare an^d whose name was Business 
 a king who ruled > not with the sword, but with 
 flattery and tempt ation and artful devices. The 
 Emperor knew thatt they were the men who had 
 bought his stronghold; that they were come to 
 shove the frontier c^f their king far beyond the 
 Lost River country ; that axes and saws and 
 dams and flooded flatus and whirling wheels and 
 naked hill-sides would -soon follow them. 
 
 "How are you, Mr. vStrong?" said the elder 
 Migley, who, by his son A was familiarly called 
 "Pop." He overflowed wi &h geniality. "Glad 
 to see you. Hot an dry otKt in the clearing. 
 Little track- worn. Thought we\4 come in here 
 for a breath o fresh air an a weeiir or two o 
 sport. Have a drink?" 
 
 He winked one eye in a significant marn^er, 
 which seemed to say that he had plenty and 
 was out for a good time. 
 
 " N-no th-thanks," said Strong, as he surveyed 
 the stout figure of the elder Migley. 
 
 Here was one of the royal family of Business, 
 in dress neatly symbolic, for Mr. Migley wore a 
 light suit of clothes divided into checks of con 
 siderable magnitude by stripes that ran, as it 
 
 IIQ 
 

 , 
 
 Silas Stromg 
 
 were, north, south, east, and -fvest. The broad 
 convexity of his front resemble<|l, in some degree, 
 an atlas globe. One might }/iave located any 
 part of his system by degrees of latitude and 
 longitude. His equator was represented by a 
 large golden chain which curved in a great arc 
 from one pocket of his wais/tcoat to the other. 
 As he walked one might haye imagined that he 
 was moving in his orbit. His large, full face 
 was adorned with a chnvwhisker and a selfish 
 and prosperous-looking rAose. It had got pos 
 session of nearly all the r^olor in his countenance, 
 and occupied more thavn its share of space. The 
 son, "Tom," had ojlder manners and a more 
 severe face. He / carried with him a look of 
 world-wearinesjar and a sense of all-embracing 
 knowledge c oo frequently derived from youthful 
 experience. He was the-only-son type of do- 
 me-Oocic tyrant overfed, selfish, brutal, wearied 
 /by adulation, crowned with curly hair. 
 
 "Look at that boy," the elder Migley whis 
 pered, pointing at the fat young man of twenty- 
 three who sat on a door-sill cleaning his rifle. 
 "Ain t he a picture? Got a fast mark in Hash- 
 ford Seminary." Mr. Migley owned a number 
 of trotting-horses, and his conversation was al 
 ways flavored with the cant of the stable. 
 
 120 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Strong looked sadly at the fat young man, 
 who was, indeed, the very personification of 
 pulp, and thought of the doom of the woods. 
 
 The elder Migley, as if able to read the mind 
 of Strong, offered him the consolation of a cigar. 
 Then he reached to the pegs above him and 
 lowered a quaking whip of greenheart which he 
 had put together soon after his arrival. 
 
 " Heft it," he whispered, pressing his rod upon 
 the Emperor. "Ain t that a dandy?" 
 
 He looked into the eyes of the woodsman. 
 He winked a kind of challenge, and added, 
 11 Seems to me that ought to fetch em." 
 
 "Mebbe," Strong answered, gently swaying 
 the rod. He was never too free in committing 
 himself. 
 
 "Got it for Tommy," said the new sports 
 man. "Ketched a four-pounder with it ask 
 him if I didn t." Mr. Migley had the habit of 
 self-corroboration, and Strong used to say that 
 he never believed that kind of a liar. 
 
 "Le s go an try em," Migley suggested. 
 
 The Emperor smoked thoughtfully a moment. 
 
 "D-down river, bym-by," he said, pointing at 
 the cook-tent as if he had now to prepare the 
 dinner. 
 
 Strong had seen the Migleys before, although 
 
 9 121 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 he had never entertained them. They had 
 paunched and pouted in territory not far remote 
 from Lost River, and won a reputation which 
 had travelled among the guides. They worked 
 hard, and hurried out of the woods with all the 
 fish and meat they could carry, and no respect 
 for any law save one the law of gravitation. 
 They sat down or lay upon their backs every 
 half-hour. Now, it seemed, they were to aban 
 don the vulgar art of the pouter for one more 
 gentle and becoming. 
 
 Strong hastened to the cook-tent, where he 
 found Sinth treating the children to sugared 
 cakes and words of motherly fondness. 
 
 "Teenty little dears!" she was saying when 
 Silas entered the door. 
 
 She rose quickly, and hurried to the stove 
 with a kind of shame on her countenance. Silas 
 kept a sober face while he went for the water- 
 pail, as if he had not "took notice." His joy 
 broke free and expressed itself in loud laughter 
 on his way to the spring. 
 
 "Snook!" Sinth exclaimed, her face red with 
 embarrassment as she heard him. She poked 
 the fire with great energy, and added: "Let the 
 fool laugh. I don t care if he did hear me." 
 
 A new impulse from the heart of nature en- 
 
 122 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 tered the Migley breast. Father and son were 
 seeking an opportunity to use their muscles. 
 The son seized a girder above his head and be 
 gan to chin it; the father went to work with an 
 axe, and his enthusiasm fell in heavy blows upon 
 a beech log. 
 
 Strong peered through the window at him 
 and muttered the one contemptuous word, 
 " W-woodpecker !" 
 
 A poor chopper in that part of the country 
 was always classed with the woodpeckers. 
 
 Dinner over, the elder Migley opened his tin 
 fishing - box and displayed an assortment of 
 cheap flies and leaders. 
 
 "Well, captain," said the young man, as he 
 turned to Strong, "if you ll show us where the 
 trout live, we ll show you who they belong to." 
 He passed judgment and bestowed rank upon 
 a great many people, and most of his brevets, 
 if he had been frank with them, would have put 
 his life in peril. 
 
 "Pop" Migley touched a rib of the Emperor 
 with his big, coercive thumb, shut one eye, and 
 produced a kind of snore in his larynx. 
 
 The wit of his son had increased the cheerful 
 ness of Mr. Migley. He began telling coarse 
 tales, and continued until, as the Emperor would 
 
 123 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 say, he had "emptied his reel." The man who 
 talked too much always had a "big reel," in the 
 thought of the Emperor, and "slack line" was 
 the phrase he applied to empty words. 
 
 With everything ready for sport, they pro 
 ceeded to the landing on Lost River and were 
 soon seated in a long canoe. 
 
 "We ll t-try Dunmore s trout," said Strong as 
 they left the shore. 
 
 "Dunmore s trout?" said the elder Migley. 
 
 "Ay-uh," the Emperor answered. "He 
 hitched onto an 1-lost him." 
 
 "Oh, it s that fish I ve heard about that 
 grabbed off one of Dunmore s flies," said the 
 elder Migley. 
 
 "Uh-huh," the Emperor assented. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the old gentleman who 
 lived on the shore of Buckhorn had done a good 
 deal of talking about this remarkable fish. 
 
 Father and son sat with rods in hand while 
 Strong worked through the still water and down 
 a long rush of rapids and halted below them 
 near a deep pool flecked with foam. 
 
 "C-cast," said he. 
 
 With a wild swish and a spasmodic movement 
 of arm and shoulder, "Pop" Migley, who sat 
 amidships, tipped the canoe until it took water. 
 
 124 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Strong dashed his paddle and recovered balance. 
 The young man swore. 
 
 "C-cast yer f -flies," Strong suggested, and his 
 emphasis clearly indicated that the fisherman 
 should cease casting his body. 
 
 Again the nouveau worked his rod, whipping 
 its point to the water fore and aft. Flies and 
 leader clawed over the back of Silas Strong, 
 fetching his hat off. Before he could recover, 
 the young man went into action. Strong 
 ducked in time to save an ear, splashing his 
 paddle again to keep the canoe on its bottom. 
 The tail-fly had caught above his elbow. When 
 Strong tried to loosen its hold the young man 
 was tugging at the line. Strong endeavored to 
 speak, but somehow the words wouldn t come. 
 Suddenly the other rod came back with a power 
 ful swing and smote him on the top of his 
 head. 
 
 He had been trying to say " See here," but his 
 tongue had halted on the s. Then he took a 
 new tack, as it were, and tried a phrase which 
 began with the letter g, and had fair success 
 with it. 
 
 Both Migleys gave a start of surprise. The 
 Emperor waited to recover self-control and felt 
 a touch of remorse. 
 
 I2 5 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Le me c-climb a t-tree," he suggested, 
 presently. 
 
 The elder Migley burst into loud laughter. 
 
 "Stop fooling!" said the young man. "I d 
 like to get some fish." 
 
 He swung his rod, and was again tugging at 
 the shirt-sleeve of the Emperor. 
 
 Strong blew as he clung to the leader. 
 
 "C-cast c-crossways," he commanded, with a 
 gesture. 
 
 The fishermen rested a moment. A hundred 
 feet or so below them Strong saw a squirrel 
 crossing the still water. Suddenly there was 
 a movement behind him, and he sank out of 
 sight. In half a moment he rose again, swim 
 ming with frantic haste to reach a clump of 
 alder branches. Strong knew the mysterious 
 villain of this little drama of the river, but said 
 not a word of what he had seen. 
 
 The "sports" resumed fishing with less con 
 fidence and more care. Soon they were able 
 to reach off twenty feet or so, but they raked 
 the air with deadly violence, and every moment 
 one leader was laying hold of the other or catch 
 ing in a tree-top. Strong pulled down bough 
 after bough to free the flies. Presently they 
 were caught high in a balsam. 
 
 126 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 4 Take us where there s trout. What do you 
 think we re fishing for, anyway?" said young 
 Migley. 
 
 "B -birds," Strong answered, as he continued 
 hauling at the tree- top with hand and paddle. 
 He used language always for the simple pur 
 pose of expressing his thoughts. Soon the elder 
 Migley began to feel the need of information. 
 He passed his rod to the Emperor. 
 
 " Show me how ye do it," said he. 
 
 Strong paddled to a large, flat rock which 
 rose, mid - stream, a little above water. He 
 climbed upon it and sat down lazily. 
 
 Nature had taught him, as she teaches all who 
 bear heavy burdens, to conserve his strength. 
 He had none to waste in the support of dignity. 
 When he sat down his weight was braced with 
 hand, foot, and elbow so as to rest his heart 
 and muscles. Now he seemed to anchor him 
 self by throwing his right knee over his left 
 foot. His garment of cord and muscle lay 
 loosely on his bones. There was that in the 
 pose of this man to remind one of an ox lying 
 peacefully in the field. He drew a loop of 
 line off the reel, and with no motion of arm 
 or body, his wrist bent, the point of the rod 
 
 sprang forward, his flies leaped the length of his 
 
 127 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 line and fell lightly on the river surface. They 
 wavered across the current. He drew another 
 loop of line. The rod rose and gave its double 
 spring, and his flies leaped away and fell farther 
 down the current. So his line flickered back and 
 forth, running out and reaching with every cast 
 until it spanned near a hundred feet. 
 
 Still the Emperor smoked lazily, and, saving 
 that little movement of the wrist, reposed as mo 
 tionless and serene as the rock upon which he sat. 
 
 Suddenly Strong s figure underwent a remark 
 able change. He bent forward, alert as a panther 
 in sight of his prey. His mouth was open, his 
 eyes full of animation. The supple wrist bent 
 swiftly. The flies sprang up and flashed back 
 ward; the line sang in its flight. Where the 
 squirrel rose a big trout had sprung above wa 
 ter and come down with a splash. But he had 
 missed his aim. Again the flies lighted precisely 
 where the trout sprang and wavered slowly 
 through the bubbles. A breath of silence fol 
 lowed. The finned arrow burst above water in a 
 veil of mist ; down he plunged with a fierce grab 
 at the tail-fly. The wrist of the fisherman sprang 
 upward. The barb caught; the line slanted 
 straight as a lance and seemed to strike at the 
 river-bottom. The rod was bending. The fish 
 
 128 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 had given a quick haul, and now the line s end 
 came rushing in. The shrewd old trout knew 
 how to gather slack on a fisherman. Strong 
 rose like a jack-in-the-box. His hand flashed 
 to the reel. It began to play like the end of a 
 piston. He swung half around and his rod 
 came up. The fish turned for a mad rush. 
 With hands upon rod and silk the fisherman 
 held to check him. Strong s line ripped through 
 the water plane from mid-river to the shadow 
 of the bank. The strain upon the fish s jaw 
 halted him. He settled and began to jerk on 
 the line. Strong raised his foot and tapped 
 the butt of his rod. The report seemed to go 
 down the line as if it had been a telephone 
 message. It startled the trout, and again he 
 took a long reach of silk off the reel. Then 
 slowly he went back and forth through an arc 
 of some twenty feet, and the long line swung like 
 a pendulum. Weakened by his efforts, he began 
 to lead in. Slowly he came near the rock, and 
 soon the splendid trout lay gasping from utter 
 weariness an arm s-length from his captor. 
 
 As the net approached him he dove again, 
 hauling with fierce energy. The man was lean 
 ing over the edge of the rock, his rod in one hand, 
 his net in the other. He came near losing his 
 
 129 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 balance in the sudden attack. He scrambled 
 into position. Again the trout gave up and 
 followed the strain of the leader. Strong let 
 himself down upon the river-bottom beside the 
 rock, and stood to his belt in water. The fish 
 retreated again and came back helpless and 
 was taken. 
 
 He filled the net. A great tail - fin waved 
 above its rim. The Emperor hefted his catch 
 and blew like a buck deer, after his custom in 
 moments of great stress. Then came a declara 
 tion of unusual length. 
 
 "Ye could r-reel me in with a c-c-cotton 
 th-thread an p-pick me up in yer f -fingers." 
 
 It was growing dusk. Strong clambered to 
 the top of the rock. "Pop" Migley brought 
 the canoe alongside. 
 
 The Emperor gave a loud whistle of surprise. 
 
 "Dunmore s t-trout!" he said, soberly. He 
 had found a " black gnat" embedded in the fish s 
 mouth, its snell broken near the loop. He put 
 the struggling fish back in the net and tied his 
 handkerchief across the top of it. 
 
 The Migleys both agreed that they were ready 
 for supper. 
 
 The Emperor got aboard and requested the 
 elder Migley to keep the fish under water, while 
 
 130 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 he took his paddle and pushed for camp. They 
 put their trout in a spring at the boat-house. 
 
 The sports hurried to camp. Master came 
 down the path and met Strong. 
 
 "I ve got D-Dunmore s t-trout," said the 
 latter. 
 
 "Good!" Master answered; "that will give us 
 an excuse to go and call on him." 
 
XIII 
 
 HAT evening, while the others 
 went out to sit by the camp-fire, 
 Silas Strong put the children to 
 bed and lay down beside them. 
 They begged him for a story, 
 and, while he had neither skill nor practice in 
 narration, he had, as the rustic merchant is 
 wont to say, a desire to please. He knew 
 that he had disappointed the children and 
 was doing his best to recover their esteem. 
 Possibly he ought to try and be more like other 
 folks. He rubbed his thin, sandy beard, he 
 groped among the treasures of his memory. 
 
 Infrequently he had gone over them with 
 Sinth or the Lady Ann, but briefly and with 
 halting words and slow reflection. He had 
 that respect for the past which is a character 
 istic of the true historian, but, in his view, 
 it gave him little to say of his own exploits. 
 He was wont to observe, ironically, that oth 
 ers knew more of them than he knew him- 
 
 132 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 self. Owing, it may be, to his little infirmity 
 of speech, he had never been misled into the 
 broad way of prevarication. Brevity had been 
 his refuge and his strength. He regarded with 
 contempt the boastful narratives of woodsmen. 
 
 Now the siren voices of the little folks had 
 made him thoughtful. Had he nothing to give 
 them but disappointment ? He hesitated. Then 
 he fell, as it were, but, happily, for the sake of 
 those two he had begun to love, and not through 
 pride. It was a kind of modesty which caused 
 him to reach for the candle and blow it out. 
 Then, boldly, as it w T ere, he began to sing a brief 
 account of one of his own adventures. He could 
 sing without stammering, and therefore he sang 
 an odd and almost tuneless chant. He accepted 
 such rhyme and rhythm as chanced to drift in 
 upon the monotonous current of his epic; but 
 he turned not aside for them. He sang glibly, 
 jumping in and out of that old, melodious trail 
 of "The Son of a Gamboleer." "Strong called 
 this unique creation of his 
 
 "THE STORY OF THE MELLERED BEAR. 
 
 
 One day yer Uncle Silas went for to kill a bear, 
 An a dog he took an follered which his name was 
 little Zeb; 
 
 133 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Bym-by we come acrost a track which looked as big 
 as sin, 
 
 An Zeb he hollered twas a bear, which I didn t quite 
 believe in 
 
 Until I got down on my knee, an then I kind o 
 laughed, 
 
 For su thin cur us showed me where he d wrote his 
 autygraft, 
 
 An which way he was travellin all in the frosty snow; 
 
 An I follered Zeb, the bear-dog, as fast as I could go, 
 
 An purty soon I see 
 
 Where the bear had tore his overcoat upon a hem 
 lock-tree, 
 
 An left some threads behind him which fell upon his 
 track, 
 
 Which I wouldn t wonder if he done a-scratchin of 
 his back, 
 
 Which caused me for to grin an laugh all on ac 
 count o my feelin s." 
 
 Here came a pause, in which the singer sought 
 a moment of relaxation, as it would seem, in a 
 thoughtful and timely cough. 
 
 "Bym-by I come up kind o clost an where that I 
 
 could see 
 
 Zeb was jumpin like a rabbit an a-hollerin t me; 
 An I could see the ol bear s home all underneath a 
 
 ledge, 
 
 An the track of his big moggasins up to the very edge. 
 I took an fetched some pine-knots an a lot of ol 
 
 dead limbs, 
 An built a fire upon his door-step an let the smoke 
 
 blow in; 
 
 134 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 An then I took a piece o rope an tethered Zeb away 
 So s that he d keep his breeches fer to use another 
 
 day. 
 An purty soon I listened an I heard the bear 
 
 a-coughin , 
 An he sneezed an bellered out as if he guessed he d 
 
 be excused. 
 
 All t once he bust out an* the rifle give a yell, 
 An I wouldn t wonder if he thought " 
 
 The narrator was halted for half a moment 
 by another frog in his throat as he explained. 
 Then he went on: 
 
 "An Zeb he tore away an took an fastened on the 
 
 bear, 
 An they rolled down-hill together, an the critter 
 
 ripped the air, 
 
 An I didn t dast t shoot him for fear o killin Zeb, 
 So I clubbed my rifle on the bear an mellered up his 
 
 head." 
 
 Moist with perspiration, Silas Strong rose ana 
 stood by the bedside and blew. Fifty miles 
 with a boat on his back could not have taxed 
 him more severely. He answered a few queries 
 touching the size, fierceness, and fate of the bear. 
 Then he retreated, whispering as he left the 
 door, Strong s ahead." 
 
 Zeb lay on the foot of the bed, and Socky, 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 being a little timid in the dark, coaxed him to 
 lie between them, his paws on the pillow. With 
 their hands on the back of Zeb, they felt sure 
 no harm could come to them. 
 
 "Do you love Uncle Silas?" It was the 
 question of little Sue. 
 
 Socky answered, promptly, "Yes; do you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Hunters don t never wear good clothes." 
 So Socky went on, presently, as if apologizing 
 to his own spirit for the personal appearance of 
 his uncle. "They git em all tore up by the 
 bears an panthers." 
 
 "That s how he got his pants tore," Sue sug 
 gested, thinking of his condition that day they 
 met him on the trail. 
 
 "Had a fight with a kunk," Socky answered, 
 quickly. He had overheard something of that 
 adventure at Robin Lake. 
 
 They lay thinking a moment. Then up spoke 
 the boy. " I wisht he had a gold watch." 
 
 With Socky the ladder by which a man rose 
 to greatness had many rounds. The first was 
 great physical strength, the next physical ap 
 pearance; the possession of a rifle and the 
 sacred privilege of bathing the same in bear s- 
 oil was distinctly another; symbols of splendor, 
 
 136 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 such as watches, finger-rings, and the like, had 
 their places in the ladder, and qualities of im 
 agination were not wholly disregarded. 
 
 Sue tried to think of something good to say 
 something, possibly, which would explain her 
 love. It was her first trial at analysis. 
 
 "He wouldn t hurt nobody," she suggested. 
 
 "He can carry a tree on his back" so it 
 seemed to Socky .* 
 
 " He wouldn t let nothin touch us," said Sue, 
 still working the vein of kindness which she had 
 discovered. 
 
 "He s the most terrible powerful man in the 
 world," Socky averred, and unconsciously twist 
 ed the soft ear of Zeb until the latter gave a 
 little yelp of complaint. 
 
 " He can kill bears an panthers an deers an 
 an ketch fish," said Sue. 
 
 "He could swaller a whale," Socky declared, 
 as he thought of the story of Jonah. 
 
 "Aunt Sinthy has got a hole in her shoe." 
 The girl imparted this in a whisper. 
 
 Both felt the back of Zeb and were silent for 
 a little. 
 
 "She blubbers!" Socky exclaimed, with a 
 slight touch of contempt in the way he said 
 it. 
 
 i37 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Maybe she got her feet wet and Uncle Silas 
 spanked her." 
 
 "Big folks don t get spanked," the boy as 
 sured Sue. 
 
 "Do you like her?" 
 
 He answered quickly, as if the topic were a 
 bore to him, "Purty well." 
 
 Sue had hoped for greater frankness. Her 
 own opinion of her Aunt Cynthia, while favor 
 able, was unsettled. She thought of a thing 
 in connection with her aunt which had given 
 her some concern. She had been full of won 
 der as to its hidden potentialities. 
 
 In a moment Sue broached the subject by 
 saying, "She s got a big mold on her neck." 
 
 " With a long hair on it," Socky added. " Bet 
 you wouldn t dast pull that hair." 
 
 Sue squirmed a little. That single hair had, 
 somehow, reminded her of the string on a jump- 
 ing-jack. She reflected a moment. 
 
 "I put my finger on it," said she, boast 
 fully. 
 
 "That s nothing," Socky answered. "Uncle 
 Silas let me feel the shot what he got in his arm. 
 Gee, it*was kind o funny." He squirmed a 
 little and thoughtfully felt his foot. 
 
 Sue recognized the superior attraction of the 
 
 138 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 buried shot and held her peace a moment. 
 Both had begun to yawn. 
 
 "Wisht it was t -morrow/ said Sue. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Cause I m going to see the beautiful lady." 
 
 "An the crow, too," Socky whispered. 
 
 They were, indeed, to see her sooner than they 
 knew in dreamland. 
 
 Zeb now retired discreetly to the foot of the 
 bed. 
 
 After a little silence Sue put her arms about 
 her brother s neck and pressed him close. 
 
 "Wisht I was in heaven," she said, drowsily, 
 with a little cry of complaint. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "So I could see my mother." 
 
 "She s way up a million miles beyond where 
 the hawks fly," said the boy, as he gaped wearily. 
 
 Thereafter the room was silent, save for the 
 muffled barking of Zeb in his slumber. He, too, 
 was dreaming, no doubt, of things far away. 
 
XIV 
 
 HEY were a timely arrival those 
 new friends who had found Edith 
 Dunmore. She was no longer sat 
 isfied with the narrow world in 
 which her father had imprisoned 
 her, and had begun to wander alone as if in quest 
 of a better one. That hour of revelation on 
 the shore of Birch Cove led quickly to others 
 quite as wonderful. 
 
 She had no sooner reached home than she 
 told her grandmother of the young man and the 
 children who had come with him to the shore of 
 Catamount and of a strange happiness in her 
 heart. It was then that a sense of duty in the 
 old Scotchwoman broke away from promises to 
 her son which had long suppressed it. 
 
 As they sat alone, together, the old lady talked 
 to her granddaughter of the mysteries of life and 
 love and death. Much in this talk the girl had 
 gathered for herself, by inference, out of books 
 mostly fairy tales that her father had brought to 
 
 140 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 her and out of the evasions which had greeted 
 her questioning and out of her own heart. 
 
 Her queries followed one another fast and 
 were answered freely. She learned, among other 
 things, a part of the reason for their lonely life 
 that her father was not like other men, not even 
 like himself; that their isolation had been a 
 wicked and foolish error; that men were not, 
 mostly, children of the devil seeking whom they 
 might destroy, but kindly, giving and desiring 
 love; that she, Edith Dunmore, had a right to 
 live like the rest of God s children, and to love 
 and be loved and given in marriage and to have 
 her part in the world s history. 
 
 All this and much good counsel besides the 
 old lady gave to the girl who sat a long time 
 pondering after her grandmother had left her. 
 
 In the miracle of birth and the storied change 
 that follows dissolution she saw the magic of 
 fairyland. To her Paristan had been much more 
 real than the republic in which she lived. 
 
 She longed for the hour to come when she 
 should again see those wonderful children and 
 the still more wonderful being who had brought 
 them in his canoe. 
 
 Next morning she set out early in the trail 
 to Catamount with her little guide and com- 
 
 141 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 panion. She had named him Roc, after the 
 famous bird of Oriental tradition. She arrived 
 there long before the hour appointed. Slowly 
 she wandered to the trail over which Master and 
 the children would be sure to come. She ap 
 proached the camp at Lost River and stood 
 peering through thickets of young fir. She saw 
 the boy and girl at play, and watched them. 
 Soon Master came out of one of the cabins. 
 Now, somehow, she felt a greater fear of him 
 than before, yet she longed to look into his face 
 to feel the touch of his hand. 
 
 The crow had taken his perch in a small tree 
 beside his mistress. He seemed to be looking 
 thoughtfully at the children, with now and then 
 a little croak of criticism or of amusement, end 
 ing frequently in a sound like half -suppressed 
 laughter. He raised a foot and slowly scratched 
 his head, a gaze of meditation deepening in his 
 eyes. Suddenly his interest seemed to grow 
 keener. He moved a step aside, rose in the air, 
 and approached the children. Darting to the 
 ground, he picked up a little silver compass 
 which one of them had dropped, and quickly 
 returned with it. The children called to Master, 
 and all three followed the crow. His mistress, 
 scarcely knowing why, had run up the trail, and 
 
 142 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Roc pursued her with foot and wing, croaking 
 urgently, as if his life and spoil depended on 
 their haste. Reaching a thicket beside the trail, 
 she hid under its sheltering cover and sat down 
 to rest. The crow, following, scrambled upon her 
 shoulder and dropped the bit of silver into her 
 lap. She held his beak to keep him quiet when 
 Master and the children came near, but as the 
 latter were passing they could hear the smoth 
 ered laughter of Roc. 
 
 In a moment Socky and Sue ran to their new 
 friend, while Master waited near them. The 
 crow spread his wings and seemed to threaten 
 with a scolding chatter. The girl threw the bird 
 in the air and took the hands of the children and 
 drew them to her breast. She held them close 
 and looked into their faces. 
 
 "Dear fairies!" said she, impulsively kissing 
 them. 
 
 "Tell us where the cranes go with with the 
 young fairies," Sue managed to say, her hands 
 and voice trembling. 
 
 Miss Dunmore sat looking down sadly for a 
 little before she answered. Sue, -curiously, felt 
 "the lady s" cheeks that were now rose-red and 
 beautiful. 
 
 "I will tell you what my father says," the 
 143 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 latter began. "The cranes take them to Slum- 
 bercity on a great marsh and put them in their 
 nests. The heads of the young fairies are bald 
 and smooth and the cranes sit on them as if they 
 were eggs. By-and-by wonderful thoughts and 
 dreams come into them so that the fairies wake 
 up and begin crying for they are very hungry. 
 They remember the spring of milk, but they 
 are so young and helpless they can only reach out 
 their hands and cry for it. Some of the cranes 
 stand on one leg in the marsh and listen. The 
 moment they hear the young fairies crying they 
 fly away to find mothers for them. The un 
 happy little things are really not fairies any 
 more they are babies. Some of the cranes 
 come and dance around the nest to keep them 
 quiet, and the babies sit up and open their eyes 
 and begin to laugh, it is so very funny. And 
 that night a big crane sits by the side of each 
 baby and the baby creeps on his back and rides 
 away to his mother. And he is so weary after 
 his ride that he sleeps and is scarcely able to move, 
 and when he wakes and smiles and laughs, he re 
 members how the cranes danced in the marsh." 
 Curiously, silently, the children looked into 
 her face, while she, with wonder equal to their 
 own, put her arms around them. 
 
 144 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "My father says that there are no people 
 that we are really nothing but young fairies 
 asleep and dreaming up in the tops of the trees, 
 and that the fairy heaven is not here." 
 
 She gazed into the eyes of the boy a moment, 
 all unconscious of his mental limitations. Then 
 she added, "You re nothing but a big fairy 
 you re so very young." 
 
 Socky drew away with a look of injury and 
 threw out his chest. 
 
 "I m six years old," he answered, with dig 
 nity. "In a little while I ll be a man." 
 
 Miss Dunmore drew them close to her and 
 said, " I wish I could take you home with me." 
 
 "Have you any maple sugar there?" the little 
 girl inquired. 
 
 "Yes, and a tame fox and a little fawn." 
 
 "But you ain t got no Uncle Silas," said the 
 boy, boastfully. 
 
 "Ner no Aunt Sinth," Sue ventured. Then, 
 with her tiny fingers, she felt the neck of "the 
 beautiful lady" to see if there were a "mold" 
 on it. She was thinking of one of the chief at 
 tractions of her aunt. In a moment she added, 
 "Ner no Uncle Robert." They had begun to 
 call him Uncle Robert. 
 
 "Is he the man I saw?" the maiden asked. 
 145 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Both children nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "Do you love him?" 
 
 " Yes ; would you like to take him home with 
 you, too?" Socky asked, with a look of deep in 
 terest. If they were to go he would wish to 
 have his new uncle with them, and Sue saw the 
 point. 
 
 " He can carry you on his back and growl jes 
 like a bear," she urged. " He can put his mouth 
 on your cheek and make such a funny noise." 
 
 Miss Dunmore looked away, blushing red. 
 It was a curious kind of love-making. She 
 whispered in the ear of the little girl, "Would 
 you let me have him?" 
 
 Sue looked up into her eyes doubtfully. 
 
 " She wants our Uncle Robert," Socky guessed 
 aloud. 
 
 "But not to keep?" Sue questioned, as if it 
 were not to be thought of. 
 
 The eyes of the children were looking into 
 those of "the beautiful lady." 
 
 "I couldn t have him?" the latter asked. 
 
 "We ll give you our coon," Sue suggested, by 
 way of compromise. 
 
 " I am sure he your uncle would not go 
 with me," Miss Dunmore suggested. 
 
 Socky seemed now to think that the time had 
 146 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 come for authoritative information. He broke 
 away and called to his new uncle. 
 
 The maiden rose quickly, blushing with sur 
 prise. She turned away as Robert Master came 
 in sight, and stood for half a moment looking 
 down. Then, stooping, she picked a wild flower 
 and timidly offered it. The act was full of 
 childish simplicity. It spoke for her as her 
 tongue could not. Knowledge acquired since 
 she saw him last had possibly increased her 
 shyness. 
 
 "She wants you," said the boy, with vast 
 innocence, while he looked up at the young 
 man. 
 
 "I wish I could believe it were true," said 
 Master, as he came nearer by a step to the daugh 
 ter of the woodland. 
 
 She turned with a look of fear and said, "I 
 must go," as she ran to the trail, followed by 
 Roc. 
 
 A little distance away she turned, looking 
 back at the young man. Something in her eyes 
 told of a soul beneath them lovelier than its 
 nobly fashioned house. Moreover, they pro 
 claimed the secret which she would fain have 
 kept. 
 
 "Shall we shake hands?" he asked. 
 i47 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 She took a step towards him and stopped. 
 
 "No," she answered. 
 
 "I must see you again," said Master, with 
 passionate eagerness, fearing that she was about 
 to leave. 
 
 She looked down but made no answer. The 
 children put their arms about her knees as if to 
 detain her. 
 
 "You will not forget to come Thursday?" he 
 added. 
 
 "The beautiful lady" stood looking at him, 
 her left hand upon her chin, her arms bare to the 
 elbows. A smile, an almost imperceptible nod, 
 and the eloquence of her eyes were the only an 
 swer she gave him, but they were enough. 
 
 "Will you not speak to me?" the young man 
 urged, as he came nearer. 
 
 She stood looking, curiously, until he could 
 almost have touched her. Then, gently, she 
 pushed the children away and fled up the trail, 
 her pet following. In a moment she had gone 
 out of sight. 
 
 She was like the spirit of the woodland 
 wild, beautiful, silent. 
 
XV 
 
 HERE was a great marsh around 
 a set-back leading off the still 
 water near Lost River camp. There 
 the children had seen many cranes, 
 and they did not forget that certain 
 of them had stood upon one leg. After supper 
 that evening they sat together whispering awhile 
 and presently stole away. There was a trail for 
 frog-hunters that led to their destination. They 
 ran, eagerly, and, just as the sun was going down, 
 stopped on a high bank overlooking the marshes. 
 It was a broad flat covered with pools and tall 
 grasses and bogs, crowned with leaves of the 
 sweet-flag and with cattails and pussy-willows. 
 Now it was still and hazy. The pools were like 
 mirrors with the golden glow of the sky and soft, 
 dark shadows in them. 
 
 Far out on the marsh they discovered a crane 
 strolling leisurely among the bogs, and began to 
 chatter about him. 
 
 They looked and listened until the sun had 
 149 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 gone below the tops of the trees. Then cranes 
 came flying homeward out of the four skies, and, 
 one by one, lighted on the edge of a bog some 
 two or three hundred feet from the children. 
 Sue uttered a little cry of joy. The cranes stood 
 motionless with heads up. 
 
 " They re listening," Socky assured his sister. 
 
 Bull-frogs had begun croaking and a mud-hen 
 was making a sound like that of a rusty pump. 
 The children now sat on the side of the bank and 
 leaned forward straining their eyes and ears. 
 
 Soon the far, shrill cry of some little animal 
 rang above the chorus of the marsh. The chil 
 dren took it to be a baby, and seemed almost to 
 writhe with suppressed laughter mingled with 
 hopeful and whispered comment. In his ex 
 citement Socky slipped off his perch and came 
 near rolling down the side of the bank. One of 
 the cranes began to shuffle about, his wings half 
 open, like an awkward dancer. Soon the whole 
 group of birds seemed to be imitating him, and 
 each shuffled on his long legs as if trying to be 
 most ridiculous. The dusk was thickening, and 
 the children could only just discern them. They 
 sat close together and held each other s hands 
 tightly, and looked out upon the marsh and were 
 silent with awe and expectation. Suddenly the 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 cranes scattered into the bushes and the sedge. 
 Socky and Sue were now watching to see them 
 fly. It was almost dark and a big moon seemed 
 to be peering through the tops of the trees. 
 Soon the great birds strode slowly in single file 
 past the wonder-stricken two. 
 
 "See the babies! See the babies!" Sue cried 
 out. 
 
 They squirmed and shivered with awe, their 
 
 lips and eyes wide with amazement. In the 
 
 dim light they imagined that a baby sat on the 
 
 back of each crane. Sue had no sooner cried 
 
 out than there came a flapping of wings that 
 
 seemed to fill the sky. The feathered caravan 
 
 I had taken to the air and were swinging in a wide 
 
 circle around the edge of the marsh. They 
 
 quickly disappeared in the gloom. 
 
 "Gone to find mothers for em," said Socky, 
 in a trembling whisper. 
 
 The children had suddenly become aware that 
 it was quite dark, but neither dared speak of it. 
 They still sat looking out upon the marsh and 
 clinging hand to hand. Soon a procession of 
 grotesque and evil creatures began to pass them : 
 the great bear of the woods who had swallowed 
 alive all the little runaways, and who, having 
 made them prisoners, only let them come out 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 now and then to ride upon his back; the big 
 panther-bird who lured children from their homes 
 with berries and flowers and nuts and, maybe, 
 raisins, and who, when they were in some lonely 
 place, dropped stones upon their heads and slew 
 them; odd, indescribable shapes, some having 
 long, hairy necks and heads like cocoa-nuts ; and, 
 lastly, came that awful horned creature, with 
 cloven hoofs and the body of a man, who carried 
 a pitchfork and who, soon or late, flung all the 
 bad children into a lake of fire. Socky and Sue 
 covered their faces with their hands. Suddenly 
 a prudent thought entered the mind of the 
 boy. 
 
 "I m going to be good," said he, in a loud but 
 timid voice. "I love God best of every one.* 
 His sister gave a little start. 
 
 In half a moment she suggested, her eyes 
 covered with her hands, "You don t love God 
 better than Uncle Silas?" 
 
 Socky hesitated. Prudence and affection 
 struggled for the mastery. 
 
 "Yes," he managed to say, although with 
 some difficulty. "Don t you?" 
 
 Sue hesitated. 
 
 He nudged her and whispered, "Say yes 
 say it out loud." 
 
 152 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The word came from Sue in a low, pathetic 
 wail of fear. 
 
 " I ain t never goin to tell any more lies," the 
 boy asserted, in a firm, clear voice, "er swear er 
 run away." 
 
 They both gave a cry of alarm, for Zeb had 
 sprung upon them and begun to lick their faces. 
 Their aunt and uncle had missed them and Zeb 
 had led his master to where they sat. 
 
 Strong had heard the children choosing be 
 tween him and their Creator and understood. 
 Socky and Sue, after the shock of Zeb s sudden 
 arrival, were encouraged by his presence and 
 began to take counsel together. 
 
 "We better go home," said Socky. 
 
 " What if we meet something?" 
 
 "Pooh! I ll crook my finger to him an* say, 
 Sile Strong is my uncle, " Socky answered, 
 confidently. "You ll see him run fast enough." 
 
 It was a formula which his uncle had taught 
 him, and he had tried it upon a deer and a hedge 
 hog with eminent success. 
 
 The Emperor had planned to give them a 
 scare by way of punishment, but now he had 
 no heart for severity. He walked through the 
 bushes whistling. He said not a word as he 
 knelt before them indeed, the man dared not 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 trust himself to speak. With cries of joy they 
 climbed upon his shoulders and embraced him. 
 Strong rose and slowly carried them through the 
 dark trail. He could not even answer their 
 questions. He was thinking of their faith in 
 him of their love, the like of which he had 
 never known or dreamed of and was not able to 
 understand. Sinth was out with a lantern when 
 they returned. The children were asleep in his 
 arms. 
 
 "Sh-h-h! Don t scold, sister," said he, in a 
 voice so gentle it surprised himself. They put 
 the children to bed and walked to the cook-tent. 
 Strong told of all he had heard them say. 
 
 "I dunno but you ll have to whip em," said 
 Sinth. 
 
 Strong was drying the little boots of the boy. 
 He touched them tenderly with his great hand. 
 He smiled and shook his head and slowly stam 
 mered, " If we re g-goin t be g-good nough t 
 s-sociate with them we got t wh-whip our 
 selves." 
 
 He rose and put a stick of wood on the 
 fire. 
 
 "Th-they think I m m-most as good as God," 
 he added, huskily, and then he went out-of- 
 doors. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Before going to bed that night he made this 
 entry in his memorandum-book: 
 
 " Strong won t do he ll have to be tore down an 
 built over." 
 
XVI 
 
 HE Migleys had engaged Strong 
 to take them out of the woods 
 next day. They were going to the 
 Fourth-of-July celebration at Hills- 
 borough. Master was going also, 
 for he was to be orator of the day. Strong, hear 
 ing the talk of the others, had "got to wishin ," 
 as Sinth put it, and had finally concluded to go 
 on to Hillsborough and witness the celebration. 
 So Master had sent for his guide to come and 
 stay at Lost River camp until the return of 
 Silas. 
 
 The Emperor was getting ready to go. Some 
 one had told him that a man at Hillsborough 
 was buying coons and foxes for the zoological 
 gardens in New York. He considered whether 
 he had better take his young pet coon with him. 
 In that hour of expanding generosity when he 
 had broken his bank, as the saying goes, he had 
 forgotten his new responsibilities. There were 
 the children, and that necessity which often 
 
 156 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 awoke him at night and whispered of impending 
 evil he must leave his old home and find a new 
 one somewhere in the forest. The little people 
 would need boots and dresses, and why shouldn t 
 they have a rocking-horse or some cheering toy 
 of that character? Such reflections began to 
 change to amend, as it were his view of 
 money. 
 
 Furthermore, Sinth had no respect for coons. 
 Ever since the Emperor had captured him, much 
 of her ill - nature had been focussed upon the 
 coon. 
 
 "W- woods g-goin ," he mused, as he fed the 
 little creature. "W-we got t git t-tame." 
 
 You better take him along," said Sinth, as 
 she came out of the cook- tent. "Jim Warner 
 got ten dollars for a coon down to Canton las 
 summer." 
 
 "C-come on, Dick," said the hunter, with 
 some regret in his tone as he fastened the coon s 
 cage upon his basket. 
 
 Strong looped a cord through the wire and 
 the buckles of both shoulder-braces. Master 
 had taken the river route, and would drive to 
 Hillsborough from Tupper s. Strong and the 
 Migleys were going out through Pitkin. The 
 "sports" had been on their way for more than 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 half an hour. Strong put his arms in the straps 
 and followed them. He turned in the trail and 
 called back: 
 
 " B -better times !" he shouted. It was a cheer 
 ful sentiment which he often expressed in mo 
 ments of parting with Sinth. 
 
 "Don t believe it," Sinth answered. 
 
 " You s-see," he insisted, and then he disap 
 peared in the timber. 
 
 As the travellers went on, the Migleys ex 
 hibited increasing respect for the law of gravi 
 tation. They gave their coats to the Emperor, 
 who studiously kept as far ahead or behind 
 them as possible to avoid conversation. He was 
 "tongue weary," and told them so. 
 
 Late in the afternoon they came to a new 
 lumber-camp. "The Warren job" had pushed 
 its front across the old trail. What desolation 
 had fallen where Strong passed, two weeks be 
 fore, in the shadow of the primeval wood! Its 
 green roof lay in scraggled, withering heaps ; the 
 under thickets had been cut away ; the ferns lay 
 flat, blackening on the sunburned soil. An old 
 skeleton of pine lifted its broken arms high above 
 the scene of desolation, and one could hear its 
 bones creak and rattle in the breezy heavens. 
 
 Great shafts of spruce and pine were being 
 158 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 sawed into even lengths and hauled to a skid- 
 way. Busy men looked small as ants in the 
 edge of the high forest. Some swayed in pairs, 
 " pulling the briar," as woodsmen say of those 
 who work with a saw. 
 
 Strong and the Migleys halted to watch the 
 downfall of a great pine. Soon the sawyers put 
 their wedge in the slit and smote upon it. The 
 sheet of steel hissed back and forth. Then a few 
 blows of the axe. The men gave a shout of warn 
 ing and drew aside. The great tree began to creak 
 and tremble. Slowly it bent and groaned; its 
 long arms seemed to clutch at the air. Then it 
 pitched headlong, its top whistling, its heavy 
 stem shaking the ground upon which it fell. A 
 voice of thunder seemed to proclaim its fate. 
 The axemen lopped off its branches, and soon 
 the long column lay stark, and the growth of 
 two centuries had come to its end. Strong and 
 his companions stood a moment longer watching 
 the scene. 
 
 "Huh!" the Emperor grunted, with a sorry 
 look as they passed on. 
 
 Near sundown they came into the cleared 
 land the sandy, God-forsaken barrens of Tif- 
 ton, robbed of root and branch and soil, of 
 their glory, and the one crop nature had de- 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 signed for them. The travellers passed a de 
 serted cabin on a hot, stony hill. In its door- 
 yard they could see a plough and an old wagon 
 partly overgrown with weeds. Some one had 
 tried to live on the spoiled earth and had come 
 to discouragement. Where ten thousand men 
 could have found healing and refreshment there 
 was not enough growing to feed a dozen sheep. 
 Here a part of the great inheritance of man had 
 been forever ruined. Strong spoke of the pity 
 of it. 
 
 *" Can t be helped," said the elder Migley. 
 "A man has a right to cut and sell his timber." 
 
 Strong made no question of that, claiming 
 only that the cutting should be "reg lated," an 
 expression which he rarely took the trouble to 
 explain. It stood for a meaning well considered 
 that the forest belonged to the people, the 
 timber to the owner of the land; that the right 
 of the owner should be subject to restraint. 
 He should be permitted to cut trees of a certain 
 size only. So the forest would be made per 
 manent, and the owner and the generations to 
 follow him would get a crop of timber every 
 eight or ten years. 
 
 The sun was setting when they came into the 
 little forest hamlet. The Migleys put up at the 
 
 1 60 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Pitkin general store, where one might have 
 rude hospitality as well as merchandise. There 
 Strong left pack and coon behind the counter 
 and hastened to the home of Annette. The 
 comely young woman rose from the supper- 
 table and took both his hands in hers. 
 
 "Strong s ahead!" he answered, cheerfully, 
 as she greeted him. 
 
 In response to her invitation he sat down to 
 eat. Her father lighted his pipe and left them. 
 Silas told of the swishers and the big trout and 
 the children. 
 
 "M-me an Sinth is b-bein cut over," he re 
 marked, with a smile, as he thought of the chil 
 dren. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "B-bein cleared an p-ploughed an sowed." 
 
 She laughed a little as the Emperor unfolded 
 his pleasantry. He thought of his improved 
 account in the matter of swearing and of the 
 better temper of Sinth. 
 
 "G-gittin p-proper," he added. 
 
 Annette was amused. 
 
 "G-got t leave Lost R-river," he said, pres 
 ently. 
 
 " Got to leave Lost River!" Annette exclaimed. 
 
 "Ay-ah," Strong answered. He looked down 
 161 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 for a second, then he added, sorrowfully, " G-goin 
 to tear down the w- woods." 
 
 "It s an outrage. Couldn t you go to the 
 plains?" 
 
 "S-sold an f-fenced." 
 
 "How about the Rag Lake country?" 
 
 "B-bein cut!" 
 Annette shook her head ruefully. 
 
 "W- woods got t g-go," said Strong, lean 
 ing forward and resting his elbows on his 
 knees. 
 
 "What 11 you do?" 
 
 "G-git tame," Strong answered, as he rose 
 and went to the squirrel cage and began to play 
 with his old pet. The little animal came to 
 his wire gateway and stood upon the palm of 
 the Emperor s hand. 
 
 "T- trespasser!" he remarked, stroking the 
 squirrel. " Th-they ll have me in a c-cage, too, 
 purty s-soon." 
 
 He put the squirrel away and offered his hand 
 to Annette. 
 
 "S-some day," he whispered. 
 
 "Some day," she answered, with a sigh. 
 
 "Y-you re g-goin to hear me d-do some 
 t-talkin ," he assured her. The Lady Ann had 
 often mildly complained of his reticence. 
 
 162 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 They now stood in front of the little veranda. 
 She was looking up at him. 
 
 "It 11 mount to s-suthin , t-too," he went on. 
 It seemed as if he were making an honest effort 
 to correct the idleness of his tongue. He was 
 looking down at her and groping in his mind for 
 some other cheerful sentiment. He seemed to 
 make this happy discovery, and added, " W-won- 
 derful good t-times comin ." 
 
 With a full heart she pressed his great hand 
 in both of hers. 
 
 "K-keep ahead," said he, cheerfully, and bade 
 her good-night. 
 
 With this he left her and was happy, for the 
 taming of Sinth had seemed to bring that " some 
 day" of his promise into the near future. 
 
 At the Pitkin general store his two companions 
 had retired for the night, and he joined a group 
 of woodsmen who occupied everything in the 
 place which had a fairly smooth and accessible 
 top on it. They were all in debt to the store 
 keeper and seemed to entertain a regard for him 
 not unmingled with pity. This latter sentiment 
 was, the historian believes, rather well founded. 
 They called him " Billy," with the inflection of 
 fondness. Two sat slouching, apologetically, on 
 the counter. One rested his weight, as tender- 
 
 163 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ly and considerately as might be, on a cracker- 
 barrel. Another reposed with a look of greater 
 confidence on the end of a nail-keg. They were 
 guides, two of whom had come out for pro 
 visions; the others, like Strong, were on their 
 way to Hillsborough. 
 
 " Here s J:he old Emp ror," said one, as Strong 
 entered and returned their greetings and sat 
 down astride the beam of a plough. 
 
 "I d like to know what he thinks of it," said a 
 guide from the Jordan Lake country. 
 
 Strong looked up at him without a word. 
 
 "A millionaire has bought thirty thousand 
 acres alongside o my camp," the guide ex 
 plained. " He won t let me cross on the old trail. 
 I had to go six mile out o my way to git here." 
 
 He smote the counter with his fist and coupled 
 the name of the rich man with vile epithets. 
 
 " My father and my grandfather travelled that 
 trail before he was born," the angry woodsman 
 declared. 
 
 Strong leaned forward, his elbows on his 
 knees, and looked at his hands without speaking. 
 One laughed loudly, another gave out a sym 
 pathetic curse. 
 
 "I ll git even with him you hear me." So 
 the aggrieved party expressed himself. 
 
 164 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "How?" Strong inquired, looking up sud 
 denly. 
 
 " I ll git even. I ll send a traveller into that 
 preserve who ll put him off it." He spoke with 
 a sinister suggestion. 
 
 "Huh!" the Emperor grunted. He under 
 stood the threat of the other, who clearly meant 
 to set the woods afire. 
 
 "Ain t I right? What d ye come to, any 
 way, when ye think it all over?" The words 
 came hot and fast off the tongue of the corn- 
 plainer. 
 
 "F-fool," Strong stammered, calmly. There 
 was something in his way of saying it that made 
 the others laugh. 
 
 A faint smile of embarrassment show r ed in the 
 face of the angry woodsman. 
 
 "Me or the millionaire?" he inquired. 
 
 "B-both," Strong answered, soberly, as the 
 storm ended in a little gust of laughter. 
 
 Strong had stripped the guide of his anger as 
 deftly as a squirrel could take the shell off a nut. 
 In the brief silence that followed he thought of 
 another maxim for his memorandum-book, and 
 soon it was recorded therein as follows: 
 
 " Man that makes trouble sure to have most of it." 
 
 165 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Presently he who sat on the cracker-barrel 
 remarked, " If them air woods git afire now, 
 they ll burn the stars out o heaven." 
 
 All eyes turned upon the once violent man. 
 
 "Of course, I wouldn t fire the woods," he 
 muttered. He was now cool, and could see 
 the folly and also the peril which lay in his 
 threat. "I never said I d set the woods afire, 
 but the of trail has been a thoroughfare for nigh 
 a hunderd year. I believe I ve got as good a 
 right to use it as he has." 
 
 "Th- think so?" the Emperor inquired. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then d-do it," Strong answered, dryly. 
 There was much in those three words and in 
 the look of the speaker. It said, plainly, that 
 the other was to do what he thought to be right 
 and never what he knew to be wrong. 
 
 "Lumbermen are more to blame," said an 
 other. "Where they ve been nobody wants 
 to go. They cut everything down t the size o* 
 yer wrist an* leave the soil covered with tinder- 
 stacks. They think o 1 nothin but the profit. 
 Case o fire, woods round em wouldn t hev a 
 ghost of a show." 
 
 "Look at the Weaver tract," said he who sat 
 on the nail-keg. " Four thousand acres o dead 
 
 166 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 tops miles on em an all as dry as gun 
 powder. If you was t touch a match there 
 ye d have to run fer yer life." 
 
 " Go like a scairt deer," said he of the cracker- 
 barrel. "Tore it stopped I guess ye d think 
 the world was afire." 
 
 "W- woods g-goin ," said the Emperor, sadly. 
 
 He thought of the cold springs at which he 
 had refreshed himself in the heat of the summer 
 day and which were to perish utterly ; he thought 
 of the brooks and rivers, slowing their pace like 
 one stricken with infirmity, and, by-and-by, 
 lying dead in the sunlight lying in a chain of 
 slimy pools across the great valley of the St. 
 Lawrence; he thought of green meadows which, 
 soon or late, would probably wither into a desert. 
 
 " What 11 become of us ?" said he on the nail-keg. 
 
 " Have t be sawed an trimmed an* planed an 
 matched an go into town." It was the voice 
 above the cracker-barrel. 
 
 "Not me," said the occupant of the nail-keg. 
 " Too many houses an folks an too much noise. 
 Couldn t never stan it." 
 
 "Village is a cur ous place," said another, 
 who had never been sober when he saw it. 
 "Steeples an buildin s an folks reel round in 
 pairs. Seems so the sidewalk flowed like a 
 
 167 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 river, an* nothin* start s still long nough so ye 
 can see how t looks." 
 
 The speaker was interrupted by the proprietor 
 of the Pitkin general store, who came down 
 stairs and flung himself on the top of the counter, 
 
 " Goin t the Fourth?" said he of the cracker- 
 barrel. 
 
 " Might as well got t hev a tooth drawed." 
 
 " I ve got one that s been growlin purty 
 spiteful," said the nail-kegger. "Dunno but I 
 might as well go an hev it tore out." 
 
 1 I got t be snaked, too," said the cracker- 
 barrel man. 
 
 "Reg lar tooth-drawin* down thar to-morrer," 
 said a voice from the counter. 
 
 " Beats all how the teeth git t rairin up ev ry 
 circus an* Fourth o July," said the nail-kegger. 
 The laughter which now ensued seemed, as 
 it were, to shake everybody off his perch. The 
 counter and the cracker-barrel expressed them 
 selves in a creak of relief, and all went above- 
 stairs save the Emperor. He cut a few boughs 
 for a pillow, spread his blanket under the pine- 
 trees, flung an end of it over his great body, and 
 "let go," as he was wont to say. At any time 
 of day or night he had only to lie down and 
 "let go," and enjoy absolute forget fulness. 
 
 168 
 
 
XVII 
 
 T the break of day next morning, 
 Strong rose and called his fellow- 
 travellers. Beside the turnpike he 
 built a fire, over which he began 
 to cook fish and potatoes and 
 coffee. When the Migleys had come, all sat 
 on a blanket within reach of their food and 
 helped themselves in a fashion almost as ancient 
 as the hills. Then Strong gave the coon his 
 share, and washed the dishes and got his pack 
 ready. It was a tramp of four miles to the 
 station below Pitkin. They arrived there, how 
 ever, before the sun was an hour high. 
 
 When they were seated in the end of the 
 smoking-car, with coon and pack beside them, 
 Mr. Migley began to reveal the plans of the great 
 king, Business. Having increased his territory, 
 he now felt the need of adding to his power. He 
 must have more legislation, for there were to be 
 ruthless changes of the map. Those few really 
 free and independent people who dwelt in and 
 12 169 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 near the Lost River country were to be his sub 
 jects and they must learn to obey. At least they 
 must not oppose him and make trouble. Gently 
 his envoy began. 
 
 "You know," said he, "there s to be a new 
 member of Assembly in our district." 
 
 Strong nodded. 
 
 " I want my son to go," the elder Migley went 
 on, as he winked suggestively. "He s going to 
 make his home in Pitkin, and it s very necessary 
 to his plans that you people should be with him. 
 He s got the talent of a statesman. Ask any 
 body who knows the boy." 
 
 He paused a moment. The Emperor made 
 no reply. 
 
 " Level-headed and reliable in every spot an 
 place, an a good-looker," Migley continued, as 
 if he were selling a road-horse, while he nudged 
 the Emperor. "Look at him. I d swap faces 
 with that boy any day and give him ten thou 
 sand dollars to boot. Wouldn t you?" 
 
 Mr. Migley spoke in dead earnest. He pinched 
 the knee of Strong and waited for his reply. 
 
 " W-wouldn t fit me," the Emperor replied. 
 
 "Pop" Migley took the answer as a compli 
 ment and gurgled with good feeling. 
 
 " Strong, you re a kind of a boss up here in the 
 170 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 hills," said he. "There isn t a jay in the pine 
 lands that wouldn t walk twenty miles to caucus 
 if you asked him to." 
 
 "Dunno," Strong answered, doubtfully. 
 
 "I know what I m talking about," said the 
 lumberman, with a smile. "I want the vote o 
 the town o Pitkin. If we get that we can give 
 em all the flag." 
 
 Strong was not unaccustomed to this kind of 
 appeal. There were not many voters in his town, 
 but they always followed the Emperor. 
 
 "You can get it for us," Mr. Migley insisted. 
 
 "N-no." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I ve promised to help M-Master." 
 
 "Oh, well, now, look here you and I ought 
 to be friends," said Migley. "We ought to 
 stand by each other. You look out for me and 
 I ll look out for you." 
 
 As he offered his alliance, Migley tenderly 
 pressed the shoulder of Silas Strong. Then he 
 put his index-finger on that square of latitude 
 and longitude which indicated the region of his 
 heart, and added, impressively, "I have the 
 reputation of being true to my friends ask 
 anybody." 
 
 The hunter sat filling his pipe in silence. 
 171 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " With what s pledged to us, if we get this town 
 we can win easy." 
 
 Strong began to puff at his pipe thoughtfully. 
 Here sat a man who could make or break him. 
 His face reddened a little. He shook his head. 
 
 Mr. Migley had caught the eye of a man he 
 knew Joe Socket postmaster and politician 
 of Moon Lake. He rose, tapped the shoulder 
 of Strong, and said, "Think it over." Then he 
 hurried down the aisle of the car. 
 
 He leaned over and whispered into the ear of 
 Socket, " What kind of a man is Strong?" 
 
 " Square, said the other, promptly. " A little 
 cranky in some ways, but you can depend upon 
 him. He ll do what he says the devil couldn t 
 turn him." 
 
 "He says he s pledged to Master that chap 
 who s come up here with a bag o money. Do 
 you think Master has bought him?" 
 
 " I don t think so. I suppose he could be 
 bought, but but I never knew of his taking 
 money. The boys of the back country swear by 
 the Emperor ; they look up to him. Fact is, Sile 
 Strong is a good fellow." 
 
 His oath seemed to contradict his affirmation. 
 
 "He s like a rock," said Migley. "The glad 
 hand don t make any impression. What ye 
 
 172 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 going to do with a man who won t drink or talk 
 or swap lies with ye ? I could put the poor devil 
 out of house and home, but he don t seem to 
 care." 
 
 "We ll turn him over to the Congressman," 
 Socket answered. " He ll bring him into camp. 
 If not we can get along without him." 
 
 The fact was the " Emperor of the Woods " 
 was not like any other man they had to deal 
 with in history, character, and caliber. 
 
 He used his brain for a definite purpose " to 
 think out thoughts with," as he was wont to 
 say, and if his heart approved of them they were 
 right, and he could no more change them than a 
 tree could change its bark or its foliage. 
 
 As yet the arts and allies of the flatterer had 
 no power over him. He was content and without 
 any false notion of his own importance. 
 
XVIII 
 
 HAT a fair of American citizen 
 ship was on its way to Hillsbor- 
 ough this morning of the Fourth 
 of July! They that now crowded 
 the train were like others travelling 
 on all the main thoroughfares of the county 
 farmers and their wives, rustic youths and their 
 sweethearts, mill-hands and mill-owners, team 
 sters, sawyers, axemen, guides, and storekeepers. 
 They were celebrating a day s release from the 
 tyranny of Business, and were not deeply moved 
 by the tyranny which their grandfathers had 
 suffered. History, save that of the present hour, 
 did not much concern them. 
 
 They were mostly sound-hearted men. There 
 were some who, in answer to the charge that a 
 local statesman had got riches in the Legislature, 
 were wont to say, " He d be a fool if he hadn t." 
 He was " a good fellow," anyhow, and they loved 
 a good fellow. All the men of wealth and place 
 and power were in his favor, and had practised 
 
 174 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 upon them the subtle arts of the friend-maker. 
 They would not have accepted " a bribe " these 
 good people now on their way to Hillsborough 
 but they could get all kinds of favors from Joe 
 Socket and Pop Migley and Horace Dumay and 
 other henchmen of the wealthy boss and legis 
 lator. They had yielded to the insidious bri 
 beries of friendship warm greetings and hand 
 shakes, loans, small sinecures, compliments, 
 pledges of undying esteem over clinking glasses, 
 and similar condescension. They loved the for 
 est and were sorry to see it go, but many of them 
 got their bread-and-butter by its downfall 
 directly or indirectly and then Socket, Du 
 may, and Migley were nothing more or less than 
 lumber, pulp, and water-power personified. They 
 were like the lords and barons of the olden time 
 less arrogant but more powerful. Indeed, 
 Strong was right the tyrant of the modern 
 world is that ruthless giant that he called " Busi 
 ness," and his nobles are coal, iron, cotton, wool, 
 food, power, paper, and lumber. These people 
 on the edge of the woodland were slaves of 
 power, paper, and lumber. With able and de 
 signing chiefs this great triumvirate gently drove 
 the good people this way and that, and there 
 was a little touch of irony in this journey of the 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 latter to celebrate their freedom and indepen 
 dence. 
 
 One who knew them could not help feeling 
 that the old martial spirit of the day was wholly 
 out of harmony with their own. They were a 
 peace-loving people, purged of their fathers 
 hatred, and roars of defiance found no echo in 
 any breast save those overheated by alcohol. 
 
 Some wore flannel shirts and the livery of a 
 woodsman s toil ; some, unduly urged, no doubt, 
 by a wife or sister, had ventured forth in more 
 conventional attire. They sat, as if posing for 
 a photograph, galled, hot, gloomy, suspicious, 
 self -suppressed, silent, their necks hooped in 
 linen, their bodies resisting the tight embrace 
 of new attire. In the crowd were a number to 
 whom the reaping of the ruined hills, on either 
 side of the train, had brought wealth and an 
 air of proprietorship. Most of the crowd were 
 in high spirits. The sounds of loud talk and 
 laughter and the rankling smoke of cheap cigars 
 filled the air above them. A lank youth under 
 a dark, broad-brimmed hat, tilted backward, 
 so as neither to conceal nor disarrange a rare 
 embellishment of curls upon his brow, entered 
 the car with another like him. His hair had 
 the ginger-brown, ringletudinous look of spaniel 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 fur. He began to whistle loudly and, as it 
 would seem, prelusively. In a moment he was 
 in full song on a ballad of the cheap theatres, 
 with sentiment like his hair frank, bold, oily, 
 and outreaching. 
 
 As the train stopped at Hillsborough, Strong 
 rose and put on his pack and left with the crowd, 
 coon in hand. The sidewalks were crowded, and 
 Strong took the centre of the street. There, at 
 least, was comparative seclusion. 
 
 Silas had not travelled a block when, all un 
 expectedly, he became a centre of attraction. 
 A group of whining dogs gathered about him, 
 peering wistfully at the coon. They were shortly 
 reinforced by a number of small boys, which grew 
 with astonishing rapidity. Cries of curiosity and 
 derision rose around him. Sportsmen who had 
 visited his camp and who recognized him shouted 
 their greeting to the " Emperor of the Woods." 
 A "swisher" of some prominence in the little 
 school of sportsmanship at Lost River came and 
 dispersed the boys. The Emperor kicked at a 
 dog and ran a little way in pursuit of him. He 
 came back and set down the coon-cage and 
 shook hands with his pupil. Immediately a dog, 
 approaching from behind, sprang at the cage and 
 tipped it over, and leaped upon it and began 
 
 177 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 to claw. Strong seized and flung the dog away, 
 and as he righted the cage its door came open 
 and the coon escaped. Dodging his enemy, the 
 little animal sought refuge in a thicket of peo 
 ple. Being pursued by dogs, and accustomed 
 also to avoid peril by climbing, he straightway 
 climbed, not a tree, but a tall sapling of a youth, 
 from which the others broke away in a panic. 
 They were opposite a little park, and the youth, 
 not daring to lay hold of the animal, fled among 
 the trees, pursued by Strong and two dogs and 
 a throng of brave spirits who shouted informa 
 tion as to what he had best do. 
 
 For half a moment the frightened coon clung 
 on a shoulder, his tail in the air, growling at the 
 dogs. The latter leaped up at him, and he be 
 gan to feel for more altitude. The youth, who 
 had some knowledge of the nature of coons, ran 
 to the nearest tree. Quickly the coon sprang 
 upon it and scrambled far out of reach. He ran 
 up the smooth shaft of elm and settled on a 
 swaying bough some forty feet above ground. 
 A crowd of people were now looking up at 
 him. 
 
 "Coon in a cage is worth two in a tree," a 
 man shouted. 
 
 Strong sat down beneath the tree and lighted 
 178 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 his pipe and " thought out" another bit of wis 
 dom for his memorandum-book. It was : 
 
 " Coon on yer shoulder worth less n what he is any 
 where." 
 
 He sat in meditation as if, indeed, he were 
 resting in the wilderness. A cannon, not a hun 
 dred feet away, shook the windows of Hills- 
 borough with a loud explosion for every star on 
 the flag. A perpetual fusillade of fire-crackers 
 seemed to suggest the stripes. Accustomed to 
 woodland silences, the Emperor s feeling was, in 
 a measure, like that of his coon. The " morning 
 salute" ended presently, and then he uttered an 
 exclamation which indicated clearly that he had 
 been losing ground in his late struggle with 
 Satan. 
 
 One of the guides with whom he had sat in 
 the store at Pitkin came near. " Had yer tooth 
 drawed?" was the question he put to the Em 
 peror. 
 
 Strong was now looking at the empty cage. 
 "Had my coon d-drawed," he answered. 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Up-s-stairs." Strong pointed in the direc 
 tion of the coon s refuge. 
 
 Silas was now the centre of an admiring com- 
 179 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 pany. His former pupil had brought the presi 
 dent of the corporation of Hillsborough to meet 
 him. The official invited Strong to participate 
 in the games. The Emperor was willing to do 
 anything to oblige, and walked with his new 
 acquaintance to the public square. 
 
 A trial at lifting and carrying was the first 
 number on the programme. The contestants 
 leaned, with hands behind them, while others 
 on a raised platform began to heap bags of oats 
 upon their backs and shoulders. Loaded to the 
 limit of their strength, they carried the burden 
 as far as they were able and flung it down. One 
 after another tried, and the last carried nine 
 bags a distance of seven feet and was rewarded 
 with many cheers. 
 
 It was Strong s turn now. He bent his broad 
 back, and the loaders began to burden him. 
 At ten they stopped, but Strong called for more. 
 Three others were heaped upon him, and slowly 
 he began to move away. One could see only 
 his legs beneath his burden, which towered far 
 aboye him. Ten feet beyond the farthest mark 
 he bore the bags and let them down. The peo 
 ple began cheering, and many came to shake his 
 hand and feel the sinews in his arms and shoul 
 ders. Of the trial at scale-lifting a woodsman 
 
 1 80 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 who stood near gave this illuminating descrip 
 tion, " When they all got through, Strong put on 
 two hundred more an raised his neck an lifted, 
 an the bar come up like a trout after a fly." 
 
 Silas Strong stood, his coat off, his trousers 
 tucked in his boots, looking soberly at the peo 
 ple who cheered him. One eye was wide open, 
 the other partly closed. There were wrinkles 
 above his wide eye, and his faded felt hat, tilted 
 backward and to one side, left his face uncov 
 ered. He had a new and grateful sense of being 
 "ahead," but seemed to wonder if so much 
 brute strength were altogether creditable. 
 
 Master was to address the people, and Strong 
 was invited to sit behind the -speaker s table 
 with the select of the county. He accompanied 
 the president of the corporation to the platform 
 in the park, his pack-basket on his arm. More 
 than a thousand men and women had gathered 
 in front of them when the chairman introduced 
 the young orator. 
 
 The speech delighted Silas Strong, and he 
 summed it up in his old memorandum-book as 
 follows : 
 
 " folks cant be no better than the air they brethe 
 41 roots of a plant are in the ground but the roots of a 
 man are in his lungs 
 
 181 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "whair the woods ar plenty the air is strong an folks 
 are stout an supple like our forefathers when they 
 licked the British them days they got a powrful crop 
 of folks sometimes fifteen in a famly 
 
 "now folks live under a sky two feet above their 
 heads an take their air secont handed an drink at the 
 bar instead of the spring an eat more than what 
 they earn an travel on wheels an think so much of 
 their own helth they aint got no time to think of 
 their countrys 
 
 "when a man s mind is on his stummick it cant be 
 any where else 
 
 "brains warnt made to digest vittles with old 
 fashioned ways is best." 
 
 After the address Strong went home to din 
 ner with Congressman Wilbert, the leading citi 
 zen of Hillsborough. That little town still re 
 tained the democratic spirit of old times. There 
 one had only to be clean and honest to be re 
 spectable, and the mighty often sat at meat 
 with the lowly. Strong declined the invitation 
 at first, on the plea that he had fried cakes in 
 his pack-basket, and yielded only after some 
 urging. 
 
 The statesman s wife received the hunter 
 cordially and presented him to her daughter. 
 The girl led Strong aside and began to entertain 
 him. He had lost his easy, catlike stride, his 
 unconscious control of bone and muscle. He 
 
 182 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 looked and felt as if he were carrying himself 
 on his own back. He seemed to be balancing 
 his head carefully, for fear it would fall off, and 
 had treated his hands like detached sundries in 
 a camp - outfit by stuffing them into the side 
 pockets of his coat. Gradually he limbered in 
 his chair and settled down. His confidence grew, 
 and soon he " horsed " one knee upon the other 
 and flung his hands around it as if to bind an 
 invisible burden resting on his lap. He carried 
 this objective treatment of his own person to 
 such an extreme that he seemed even to be 
 measuring his breath and to find little oppor 
 tunity for cerebration. When the young lady 
 addressed him he often answered with the old 
 formulas of "I tnum!" or "T-y-ty!" They 
 eased the responsibility of his tongue, and, 
 without seriously committing him, expressed a 
 fair degree of interest and surprise. 
 
 At the table Strong behaved himself with the 
 utmost conservatism. They treated him very 
 tenderly, and he found relief in the fact that 
 his embarrassment seemed not to be observed. 
 He thought it the part of politeness to refuse 
 nearly everything that was offered and to eat 
 in a gingerly fashion. 
 
 The Congressman had often heard of Silas 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and gave him many compliments, and finally 
 asked what, in his opinion, should be done to 
 protect the forest. Briefly Strong gave his 
 views, and the other seemed to agree with him. 
 
 " I ll do what I can for the woods and for you, 
 too," said the statesman. "You ought to be a 
 warden with a good salary." 
 
 These kindly assurances flattered the " Em 
 peror of the Woods." Insidiously the great 
 world power was making its most potent appeal 
 to him. 
 
 "I may ask you for a favor now and then," 
 said Wilbert. "I d be glad if you d do what 
 you could to help Migley. He needs the vote 
 of your town." 
 
 Strong knew not what to say. "M-mind s 
 m-made up," he stammered, after a little pause. 
 When his mind was "made up" he had nothing 
 further to do but obey its will. The other did 
 not quite comprehend his meaning. 
 
 Strong in his embarrassment had put too 
 much tabasco sauce on his meat. He blew, ac 
 cording to his custom in moments of distress, 
 and took a drink of water. He looked thought 
 fully at the small cylinder of glass. He tried to 
 read its label. 
 
 "Small b-bore," he remarked, presently. 
 184 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Sh-shoots w-well," he added, after a moment 
 of reflection. 
 
 Strong had begun to think of his coon, now 
 clinging in a tree -top. Suddenly he had be 
 come too proud to try to sell him, but he could 
 not bear to abandon his old pet. So while the 
 others talked together he began to contrive 
 against the dogs of Hillsborough. As he was 
 about to leave, he asked Mrs. Wilbert where he 
 could buy "one o them 1-little r-red guns," by 
 which he meant a bottle of tabasco sauce. She 
 immediately sent a servant to bring one, which 
 the Emperor accepted with her compliments. 
 His host went with him to a store where Strong 
 invested some of his prize-money in "C ris mus 
 presents so he called them for Sinth and the 
 "little fawns," filling his pack well above the 
 brim. 
 
 Then, forthwith, Strong proceeded to the coon s 
 refuge, in the public park, where, with the aid 
 of a Roman-candle, as he explained to Sinth in 
 the privacy of their cook - tent, he made the 
 coon "1-let go all holts." The animal had been 
 clinging high in the old elm, and, being stunned 
 by his fall, Strong .caught and held him firmly 
 by the nape of the neck while he covered him 
 with an armor of liquid fire from the tabasco 
 13 185 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 bottle. The fur of back and neck and shoulders 
 had now the power to inflict misery sharper 
 than a serpent s tooth. 
 
 "D-Dick," he whispered, "Strong is shamed 
 o y-you. He c-can t sociate n-no more with 
 c-coons in this v-village. But he won t let ye 
 git t-tore up." 
 
 Strong carried his coon out of the park and 
 let him down. In Hillsborough popular en 
 thusiasm had turned from revelry to refresh 
 ment. The crowd, having retired to home and 
 hostelry, had left the streets nearly deserted. 
 
 Strong s coon set out in the direction of the 
 river, and soon a bull-dog laid hold of him. The 
 dog gave the coon a shake, and began, as it were, 
 to lose confidence. He dropped the hot-furred 
 animal, shook his head, and tarried the tenth 
 part of a second, as if to make a note of the coon s 
 odor for future reference, and then ran with all 
 speed to the river. He heeded not the call of his 
 master or the jeering of a number of small boys. 
 They were no more to him than the idle wind. 
 
 The coon proceeded on his way to the woods. 
 Farther on three other dogs bounded into 
 trouble, and rushed for water. The coon passed 
 two bridges and made his way across an open 
 field in the direction of Turner s wood. 
 
 1 86 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Strong, whose hunger had not been satisfied, 
 bought some cake and pie, and made for open 
 country where he sat down by the road-side. 
 Tree-tops above him were full of chattering 
 birds, driven out of town probably by its hide 
 ous uproar. 
 
 The Emperor, having appeased his hunger, 
 took half an hour for reflection. Before the 
 end of it came he began for the first time in his 
 life to suffer the penalty of idleness and high 
 living. Indigestion, the bane of towns and cities, 
 had taken hold of him. Before leaving he made 
 these entries in his little book: 
 
 " July the 4 
 
 "This aint no place for Strong 
 
 "Man might as well be in Ogdensburg* as have Og- 
 densburg in him. 
 
 " Strong s coon snaked out of his cage contrived to 
 git even also coon made free and independent." 
 
 His revenge was of such lasting effect that, 
 some say, for a long time thereafter dogs in 
 Hillsborough fled terror-stricken at the sight of a 
 coon-skin overcoat. 
 
 *It should be remembered that with the woods-loving 
 and wholly mistaken Emperor, Ogdensburg meant nothing 
 less than hell. 
 
XIX 
 
 JEANWHILE Socky and Sue, in 
 Sunday costume, had gone out 
 with their aunt for a holiday 
 picnic in the forest. Sinth had 
 been busy until ten o clock pre 
 paring a sumptuous dinner of roasted wild fowl 
 and jelly, of frosted cake and sugared berries 
 and crab-apple tarts. They went to the moss- 
 covered banks of a little brook over in Pepper 
 mint Valley, half a mile or so from the camp. 
 Master s man carried their dinner and blankets, 
 upon which they could repose without impair 
 ing the splendor of their dress. Sinth had put 
 on her very best attire a sacred silk gown and 
 Paisley shawl which had come on a cheerful 
 Christmas Day from her sister. 
 
 "Might as well show em to the birds an 
 squirrels," said she. " There ain t nobody else t 
 dress up for cept the little fawns." 
 
 The man left them, to return later for their 
 camp accessories. Sinth played "I spy" and 
 
 1 83 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Hide the penny" and other games of her child 
 hood with Socky and Sue. She had brought 
 some old story-papers with her, and when the 
 little folks grew weary they sat down beside 
 her on the blankets while she read a tale. To 
 her all things were "so" which bore the sacred 
 authority of print, and she read aloud in a slow, 
 precise, and responsible manner. 
 
 It was a thunderous tale she was now reading 
 a tale of bloody swords and high-sounding 
 oaths and epithets. Socky began to feel his 
 weapon. Master had shaped a handle on a 
 piece of lath and presented it for a sword to the 
 little " Duke of Hillsborough." Since then it had 
 trailed behind the boy, fastened by a string to 
 his belt. He sat listening with a serious, thought 
 ful look upon his face. At the climax of the 
 tale he raised his weapon. Presently, unable to 
 restrain his heroic impulse, he sprang at Zeb, 
 sword in hand, and smote him across the ribs, 
 shouting, "Defend yourself!" Zeb retreated 
 promptly and took refuge in a fallen tree-top, 
 out of which he peered, his hair rising. Soon he 
 satisfied himself that the violence of the Duke 
 was not a serious matter. Socky ran upon him, 
 waving his sword and crying, in a loud voice, 
 "You re a coward, sir!" Zeb rushed through 
 
 189 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the ferns, back and forth around the boy, growl 
 ing and grimacing as if to show that he could 
 be a swashbuckler himself. 
 
 On his merry frolic he ran wide in thickets 
 of young fir. Suddenly he began barking and 
 failed to return. They called to him, but he 
 only barked the louder, well out of sight be 
 yond the little trees. Socky went to seek him, 
 and in a moment the barking ceased, but 
 neither dog nor boy came in sight of the others. 
 Sinth followed with growing alarm. 
 
 Back in a mossy glade, not a hundred feet 
 from where they had been sitting, she stopped 
 suddenly and grew pale with surprise. There 
 sat a beautiful maiden looking down at the boy, 
 who lay in her arms. Sue, who had followed her 
 aunt, now sprang forward with a cry of delight. 
 The maiden rose, her cheeks crimson with em 
 barrassment. 
 
 "Oh, aunt," said the boy, as he clung fondly 
 to the hand of Edith Dunmore, "this is the 
 beautiful lady." 
 
 "What s your name?" Sinth demanded. 
 
 "Edith Dunmore." The girl s voice had a 
 note of sadness. 
 
 "My land! Do you go wanderin all over 
 the woods like a bear?" Sinth inquired. 
 
 190 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The maiden turned away and made no an 
 swer. 
 
 "Land sakes alive! you ain t got no business 
 goin around these woods an meetin strange 
 men." 
 
 "Oh, silly bird!" croaked the little crow from 
 a bough near them. 
 
 " Mercy!" exclaimed Sinth, as she looked up 
 at the ribboned crow. "It s enough to make 
 the birds talk." 
 
 There were tears in the maiden s eyes, and 
 the children glanced from her to their aunt, 
 sadly and reprovingly. 
 
 Sinth, now full of tender feeling, put her arms 
 around the neck of the girl in a motherly fashion. 
 " Poor, poor child!" said she, her voice trembling. 
 "I ve laid awake nights thinkin of you." 
 
 Something in the tone and touch of the 
 woman brought the girl closer. Another great 
 need of her nature was for a moment satisfied. 
 She leaned her head upon the shoulder of Sinth, 
 and her heart confessed its loneliness in tears 
 and broken phrases. 
 
 " I I followed you. I couldn t couldn t help 
 it," said she. 
 
 "Poor girl!" Sinth went on, as she patted the 
 head of the maiden. "I ve scolded Mr. Master. 
 
 191 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 He oughter let you alone, less he s in love, which 
 I wouldn t wonder if he was." 
 
 "Ah-h-h!" croaked the bird, as if to attract 
 his mistress. 
 
 "Sakes alive!" exclaimed Sinth, looking up 
 at the crow with moist eyes. "That bird is 
 like a human bein . Hush, child, you mus 
 come an help us celebrate. Come on now; 
 we ll all set down an have our dinner." 
 
 Socky and Sue stood by the knees of the 
 lady looking up at her. 
 
 Gently the woman led her new acquaintance 
 to their little camp, and bade her sit with the 
 children. Sinth had a happy look in her face 
 while she hurried about getting dinner ready. 
 
 " Jes straighten the end, please that s right," 
 said she as Edith Dunmore put a helping hand 
 on the snowy table-cloth. 
 
 Sinth began to spread the dishes, and the 
 maiden furtively embraced Socky and Sue. 
 "My land! you do like childern don t ye? So 
 do I. They s jes nothin like em in this world." 
 
 "Dinner s ready," said Sinth, when all the 
 dainties had been set forth. "Heavens an* 
 earth! I m so glad t see a woman I could lay 
 right down an bawl." 
 
 "You have made me as happy as a young 
 192 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 fawn," said Miss Dunmore. "I am not afraid 
 of you or the children." 
 
 "Are you afraid of him ?" 
 
 The lady looked down, blushing, and al 
 most whispered her answer. " Yes ; I am 
 afraid." 
 
 "He wouldn t hurt ye he s jest as gentle as 
 a lamb," said Sinth. She paused to cut the 
 cake, and added, with a far-away look in her 
 eyes, "Still an all, I dunno what I d do if he 
 was to make love to me." 
 
 Sinth ate in silence for a moment and re 
 marked, dreamily, " Men are awful cur is critters 
 when they git love in em." 
 
 For a little, one might have heard only the 
 chatter of the children and the barking of Zeb. 
 By-and-by the maiden said, "I am sure that 
 Mr. Master is is a good man." 
 
 "No nicer in the world," Sinth answered. 
 " Pleasant spoke, an he don t set around as if 
 he wanted ye t breathe fer him. He ll be a 
 good provider, too." 
 
 After a few moments the children took their 
 cake and went away to share it with Zeb and 
 the tame crow. 
 
 " Do you do you think he would care to see 
 me again?" Edith Dunmore asked, blushing and 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 looking down as she touched a wild rose on her 
 breast. 
 
 " Course he would," Sinth answered, prompt 
 ly. " Can t sleep nights, an looks kind o sick 
 an dreamy, like a man with a felon." Sinth 
 looked into the eyes of the girl and added, so 
 berly, "I guess you re in love with him fast 
 enough." 
 
 "I do not know," said Miss Dunmore, with a 
 sigh. " I I know that all the light of the day 
 is in his eyes that I am lonely when I cannot 
 find him." 
 
 Sinth nodded. " It s love," said she, decisive 
 ly "the real, genuwine, pure quill. Don t ye 
 let him know it." 
 
 She sat looking down for a moment with a 
 dreamy look in her eyes. "I know what tis," 
 she went on, sadly. "Had a beau myself once. 
 Went off t the war." After a little pause she 
 added, " He never come back shot dead in bat 
 tle." She began to pick up the dishes. Having 
 stowed them in a pail, she turned and said, in a 
 solemn manner: "He was goin t bring me a 
 gold ring with a shiny purple stone in it. Not that 
 I d a cared for that if I could have had him." 
 
 That old look of sickliness and resignation 
 returned to the face of Sinth. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Folks has to give fer their country," she 
 added soon. " My father an my gran father an 
 my oldest brother an my true love all died in 
 the wars. I hope you ll never have to give so 
 much." 
 
 A great, earth-quaking roar from far down the 
 valley of Lost River sped over the hills, and 
 shook the towers of the wilderness and broke 
 the peace of that remote chamber in which they 
 stood. It was .Business breaking through the 
 side of a mountain to make a trail for the iron 
 horse. 
 
 "BlastinM" Sinth exclaimed. 
 
 " It s the king of the world coming through 
 the woods so my father tells me," said Miss 
 Dunmore. 
 
 Then, as if fearful that he might arrive that 
 day, she rose quickly and said: 
 
 "I must go home. I must go home." 
 
 Sinth kissed her, and the children came and 
 bade her good-bye and stood calling and waving 
 their hands as Edith Dunmore, with the ribboned 
 crow, slowly went up the trail to Catamount. 
 
 
XX 
 
 N his way home at night Strong 
 was really nearing the City of 
 Destruction, like that pilgrim of 
 old renown. Shall we say that 
 Satan had filled the man with 
 lougnts of his own greatness the better to 
 work upon him ? However that may be, a new 
 peril had beset the Emperor. 
 
 For long he had been conscious only of his 
 faults. Now the thought of his merits had 
 caused him to forget them. Turning home 
 ward, the world in his view consisted of two 
 parts Silas Strong and other people. One re 
 grets to say it was largely Silas Strong the 
 great lifter, the guide and hunter whose fame 
 he had not until then suspected. 
 
 Master took the train with him that even 
 ing. 
 
 This old-fashioned man Silas Strong whose 
 mind was, in the main, like that of his grand 
 father like that, indeed, of the end of the eigh- 
 
 196 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 teenth century sat beside one who represented 
 the very latest ideals of the Anglo-Saxon. 
 
 They were both descended from good pioneer 
 ancestry, but the grandfather of one had moved 
 to Boston, while the grandfather of the other had 
 remained in the woods. The boulevard and the 
 trail had led to things very different. 
 
 They had sat together only a few moments 
 when the two Migleys entered the car. These 
 ministers of the great king got to work at once. 
 
 "Hello!" said the elder of them, addressing 
 Master. " I congratulate you. I told my son 
 it was a great speech. Ask him if I didn t." 
 
 "I enjoyed your speech," said young Migley. 
 " But there s no use talking to us about saving 
 the wilderness. If we did as you wish, we d 
 have nothing to do but twirl our thumbs." 
 
 "On the contrary, you d have a permanent 
 business, whereas your present course will soon 
 lead you to the end of it. I would have you cut 
 nothing below twelve inches at the butt, and 
 get your harvest as often as you can find it." . 
 
 " Twouldn t pay," said "Pop" Migley, with 
 a shake of his head. 
 
 "You condemn the plan without trial," Mas 
 ter continued. "Anyhow, if an owner wants 
 his value at once, let us have a law under which 
 
 197 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 he can transfer his timber-land to the State on 
 a fair appraisal." 
 
 " The State wouldn t pay us half we can make 
 by cutting it." 
 
 "Probably not, but you d have your time 
 and capital for other uses. Then, too, you 
 should think of the public good. You re rich 
 enough." 
 
 " But not fool enough," said young Mr. Migley, 
 in a loud voice. 
 
 The train stopped to take water, and those 
 near were now turned to listen. 
 
 " I thought you were ambitious to be a public 
 servant," said Master, calmly. 
 
 " But not as a professor of moral philosophy. 1 
 This declaration of the young candidate was 
 greeted with laughter. 
 
 "And, of course, not as a professor of moral 
 turpitude," said the woods lover. "The public 
 is not to be wholly forgotten." 
 
 "I m for my part of the public, first, last, and 
 always," young Migley answered. 
 
 It is notable that lawless feeling especially 
 after it has passed from sire to son some day 
 loses the shame which has covered and kept it 
 from insufferable offence. Two or three citizens 
 who sat near began to whisper and shake their 
 
 198 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 heads. One of them spoke out loudly and in 
 dignantly : 
 
 "His part of the public is mostly himself. 
 He is trying to buy his way into the Assembly, 
 and I hope he ll fail." 
 
 There were hot words between the Migleys and 
 their accuser, until the lumbermen left the car. 
 
 Soon Master fell asleep. Strong took out his 
 old memorandum-book and went over sundry 
 events and reflections. 
 
 When Master awoke the Emperor still sat 
 with the worn book in his hands. 
 
 " I ve been asleep," said the young man. 
 "What have you been doing?" 
 
 "Th-thinkin out a few th-thoughts," Strong 
 answered, as he put the book in his pocket. 
 
 The Emperor began to speak of the Congress 
 man s courtesies in a tone of self-congratulation. 
 
 Master laughed heartily. "It was a pretty 
 little plot," said he. "Those common fellows 
 couldn t manage you, and they passed you on. 
 I ll bet he asked you to help Migley." 
 
 Strong smiled and nodded. 
 
 "You haven t made me any promise, and I 
 want you to feel free to do what you think best," 
 said the young man. 
 
 The train pulled into Bees Hill in the edge of 
 199 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the wilderness, and they left it and took quarters 
 at the Rustic Inn. 
 
 Bees Hill was a new lumber settlement where 
 there were two mills, three inns, a number of 
 stores, and a post-office. The bar-room was 
 crowded with brawny mill-hands from across 
 the border, in varying stages of intoxication. 
 The inn itself was full of the reek of cheap to 
 bacco and the sound of cheaper oaths. The 
 most offensive in the crowd were of the new 
 generation of back-country Americans. Their 
 boastfulness and profanity were in full flood. 
 They used the sacred names with a cheerful, 
 glib familiarity, as if they were only saying 
 "Bill" or "Joe." 
 
 The town had begun to ruin the woodsman 
 as well as the woods. 
 
 Here were some of the sons of the pioneers 
 mostly "guides" and choremen of abundant 
 leisure. Every day they were "dressed up," 
 and sat about the inn like one who patiently 
 tries his luck at a fishing-hole. They had dis 
 covered themselves and were like a child with 
 its first doll. They had, as it were, torn them 
 selves apart and put themselves together again. 
 They had experimented with cologne, hair -oil, 
 poker, colored neckties, hotel fare, and execra- 
 
 200 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ble whiskey. They were in love with pleasure 
 and had sublime faith in luck. They spent their 
 time looking and listening and talking and 
 primping and dreaming of sudden wealth and 
 kitchen-maids. 
 
 Strong and Master stood a moment looking 
 at a noisy company of youths at the bar. 
 
 "They speak of the President by his first 
 name, and are rather free with the Creator," said 
 Master. 
 
 "J-jus little mehoppers," Strong remarked, 
 with a look of pity. In his speech a conceited 
 fellow, who spoke too frequently of himself, 
 was always a "mehopper." 
 
 " Large heads !" Master exclaimed, as he turned 
 away. 
 
 11 Like a b-balsam, Strong stammered. " B-big 
 top an little r-roots." 
 
 "And they can t stand against the wind," 
 said Master. 
 
 Before he went to bed the Emperor made these 
 entries in his mernorandum-book : 
 
 " Strong says he had just as soon be seen with a coon 
 as a congressman also that a fool gits so big in his 
 own eyes he dont never dast quarrell with himself 
 Strong got to mehoppin. he has fit and conkered 
 
 "God never intended fer a man to see himself er else 
 he d have set his eyes difernt." 
 
 201 
 
XXI 
 
 N the morning, a little after sun 
 rise, Strong and Master set out 
 across the State land stretching 
 from the railroad to Lost River, a 
 distance of some fourteen miles. 
 Not an hour s walk from the station, at Bees 
 Hill, they passed another lumber job, where, 
 on the land of the State, nearly a score of men 
 were engaged felling the tall pines and hauling 
 them to skidways. The Emperor flung off his 
 pack and hurried to the workers. 
 "Who s j-job?" he inquired. 
 "Migley s. We re working on a contract for 
 the dead timber." 
 
 "Ca-call that dead?" Strong waved his hand 
 in the direction of a number of trees, newly 
 felled, which had been as healthy as any in the 
 forest. "Q-quit, er I ll go to-day an c-com- 
 plain o ye," he added. 
 
 "You can go to if you like," said the 
 
 foreman, angrily. 
 
 202 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Quicker than the jaws of a trap Strong s hand 
 caught the boss by the back of his neck and flung 
 him headlong. 
 
 The dealer in hasty speech rose and took a 
 step towards the Emperor and halted. 
 
 "B-better think it over," said Strong, coolly. 
 
 The boss turned to his men. He shouted at 
 some eight or ten of them who had come near, 
 " Are you going to stand there and see me treated 
 that way." 
 
 You fight your own battles," said one of 
 them. "For my part, I think the Emp ror is 
 right." 
 
 "So do I," said another. "I ve pulled the 
 brier for you as long as I want to." 
 
 The rest of the "gang" stood still and said 
 nothing. 
 
 "I ll go and see Migley about this," declared 
 the foreman, who was walking hurriedly in the 
 direction of his camp. He turned and shouted 
 to the toilers, " You fellers can go histe the 
 turkey/" 
 
 One who had to pick up his effects and get 
 out was told to " histe the turkey " there in the 
 woods. 
 
 Strong and Master had a few words with the 
 men and resumed their journey to Lost River. 
 
 203 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 As they walked on, a brush whip hit the Em 
 peror in the face. He stopped and broke it 
 and flung it down with a word of reproof. He 
 often did that kind of thing as if the trees and 
 bushes were alive and on speaking terms with 
 him. Sometimes he would stop and compli 
 ment them for their beauty. 
 
 Soon the young man spoke. 
 
 " After all, the law is no better than they who 
 make it," said he. 
 
 The Emperor turned as if not sure of his 
 meaning. 
 
 4 Bribery!" said Master. "Migley got a 
 passed which provides a fine so low for cutting 
 State timber that he can pay it and make 
 money." 
 
 "B-Business is k-king," said Strong, thought 
 fully. He perceived how even the State itself 
 had become a subject of the great ruler. 
 
 "And Satan is behind the throne," Master 
 went on. "Down goes the forest and the will 
 of the people. I tell you, Strong, the rich thief 
 is a great peril; so many souls and bodies are 
 mortgaged by his pay-roll and his favor. Look 
 out for him. He can make you no better than 
 beef or mutton." 
 
 They proceeded on their journey in silence, 
 204 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and, when the sun had turned westward and 
 they sat down to drink and rest on the shore of 
 Lost River, Strong began to write, slowly and 
 carefully, in his old memorandum-book, some 
 thoughts intended for his future guidance. And 
 he wrote as follows* 
 
 "July the 5 
 
 "Strong says Man that advises other folks to go to 
 hell is apt to git thair first. 
 
 " also that a man who loses his temper aint got nothin 
 left but a fool. Strong is shamed. 
 
 " Taint miff to look a gift hoss in the mouth better 
 turn him rong side out and see how hes lined." 
 
 Having "thought out" these thoughts and set 
 them down, the Emperor rose and put the book 
 in his pocket and hurried up the familiar trail, 
 followed by his companion. A little farther on 
 they met Socky, Sue, and Sinth. 
 
 "Merry C ris mus!" the Emperor shouted as he 
 caught sight of them. He put his great hands 
 upon their backs and drew the boy and girl 
 close against his knees. "My leetle f -fawns!" 
 he said, with a chuckle of delight, as he clum 
 sily patted them. His eyes were damp with 
 joy; his hands trembled in their eagerness 
 to open the pack. He untied the strings and 
 
 205 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 uncovered the rocking - horse and other trin 
 kets. 
 
 "Whoa!" he shouted, as he put the little, 
 dapple-gray, wooden horse on the smooth trail 
 and set him rocking. 
 
 Cries of delight echoed in that green aisle of 
 the woods. Strong put the children on the 
 back of the wooden horse and gave a brass 
 trumpet to Socky and buckled a girdle of silver 
 bells around the waist of Sue. . Then he put 
 on his pack, lifted horse and children, and 
 bore them into Lost River camp. The laugh 
 ter of the young man joined that of the chil 
 dren. 
 
 "Silas Strong!" Sinth exclaimed, as the Em 
 peror unloaded in front of the cook-tent. 
 
 "P-present!" he answered, promptly. 
 
 "Can t hear myself think," said she, with a 
 suggestion of the old twang in her voice. 
 
 "N-now, t-try," said Silas Strong, as he gave 
 her a little package. 
 
 The expression of her face changed quickly. 
 With slow but eager hands she undid the pack 
 age. Her mouth opened with surprise when 
 she discovered a ring with a shiny, purple stone 
 in it. 
 
 "G-gold an* amethys !" the Emperor ex- 
 206 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 claimed, calmly and tenderly, his voice mellowed 
 by affection. 
 
 "Gold an amethyst," she repeated, solemnly. 
 
 "Uh-huh!" It was a low, affectionate sound 
 of affirmation from the Emperor, made with his 
 mouth closed. 
 
 Her lips trembled, her face changed color, 
 her eyes filled. It was oddly pathetic that so 
 vain a trifle should have so delighted her 
 homely and simple as she was. Since her girl 
 hood she had dreamed of a proud but impossible 
 day that should put upon her finger a gold ring 
 with a shiny, purple stone in it. Strong knew 
 of her old longing. He knew that she had never 
 had half a chance in this world of unequal bur 
 dens, and he felt for her. 
 
 "I tol ye," said he, in a voice that trembled 
 a little. "B-better times. * 
 
 She looked down at the ring, but did not an 
 swer. 
 
 "That celebrates your engagement to the 
 Magic Word," said Master. 
 
 She put it on her finger and gave it a glance of 
 pride. Then she said, "Thank you, Silas," and 
 repaired to her quarters and sat down and 
 wept. 
 
 Her brother shouldered the axe and went to 
 207 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 cut some wood for the stove. She could hear 
 him singing as he walked away slowly : 
 
 "The green groves are gone from the hills, Maggie, 
 
 Where oft we have wandered an sung, 
 An gone are the cool, shady rills, Maggie, 
 Where you an I were young." 
 
XXII 
 
 HE next was one of the slow- 
 coming days that seem to be de 
 layed by the great burden of their 
 importance. With eager, impa 
 tient curiosity, Master had looked 
 forward. Had he witnessed the first scenes of 
 his own life comedy? If so, what would the 
 next be? 
 
 He rose early and dressed with unusual care, 
 and was delighted to see a sky full of warm sun 
 light. The children were awake, and he helped 
 them to put on their best attire while Sinth 
 was getting breakfast in the cook-tent. Soon, 
 with Socky and Sue in the little wagon, he was 
 on the trail to Catamount Pond. Strong was 
 to come later and bring their luncheon and be 
 gin the construction of a camp. 
 
 On the way Master gathered wild flowers and 
 adorned the children with gay colors of the 
 forest floor. They found their canoe at the 
 landing, and got aboard and pushed across the 
 
 209 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 still water. The sky had never seemed to him 
 so beautiful and silent. From far up the moun 
 tain he could hear the twittering of a bird 
 no other sound. The margin of the pond was 
 white with lilies in full bloom. Their perfume 
 drifted in slow currents of air. His canoe moved 
 in harmony with the silence. He could hear the 
 bursting of tiny bubbles beneath his bow and 
 around his paddle. 
 
 Soon they came in sight of Birch Cove. There 
 stood the moss -covered rock at the edge of 
 the pond, but no maiden. Master felt a pang 
 of disappointment. A fear grew in his heart. 
 Would she not come again? Was it all a pleas 
 ant dream, and was there no such wonderful 
 creature among the children of men? 
 
 He shoved his bow on the little sand beach 
 and helped the children ashore. 
 
 In a moment they heard the voice of the crow 
 laughing as if unable longer to control himself. 
 
 "I m going to find her," said Socky, as he 
 ran up the deer- trail followed by Sue. 
 
 In a moment they gave a cry of delight. 
 Edith Dunmore had stepped from behind a 
 thicket, and, stooping, had put her arms around 
 the children and was kissing them. The cun 
 ning crow walked hither and thither and picked 
 
 210 
 
 I 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 at the dead leaves and chattered like a child at 
 play. 
 
 "Oh, it has been such a long time!" said "the 
 beautiful lady," looking "fondly into the faces of 
 the little folk. "Where is he?" 
 
 "Over there," said Socky, pointing in the 
 direction of the canoe. "I ll go and tell him." 
 
 "No," the maiden whispered, holding the boy 
 closer. 
 
 " He wants to see you," said the boy. 
 
 "Me? he would like to see me?" she asked. 
 
 "He wants you to go home with us," the boy 
 went on, as if he were a kind of Cupid an am 
 bassador of love between the two. He felt her 
 hair curiously and with a sober face. 
 
 "He has a beautiful watch an chain," said 
 Socky. 
 
 "An a gol pencil," said Sue. 
 
 " He s rich," the little Cupid urged, in a quaint 
 tone of confidence. 
 
 "What makes you think he wants me?" the 
 girl asked. 
 
 "He told Uncle Silas didn t he, Sue?" 
 
 The face of Edith Dunmore was now glowing 
 with color. She drew the children close to 
 gether in front of her. 
 
 "Don t tell him don t tell him I am here," 
 
 211 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 said she, under her breath, as she trembled with 
 excitement. 
 
 "He wouldn t hurt anybody," Sue volun 
 teered. 
 
 The pet crow had wandered in the direction 
 of the canoe. Catching sight of Master, he ran 
 away cawing. 
 
 The young man started slowly up the trail. 
 For a moment the girl hid her face behind the 
 children. As he came near she rose and timidly 
 gave him her hand. Quickly she turned away. 
 His hand had been like those of the children 
 its touch had stirred new and slumbering depths 
 in her. 
 
 " If if you wish to be alone with the chil 
 dren," he said, "I I will go fishing." 
 
 For a little she dared not look in his face. But 
 since her talk with Miss Strong she was deter 
 mined not to run away again for fear of him. 
 She stood without speaking, her eyes downcast. 
 
 " You do want her- don t you, Uncle Robert ?" 
 said the youthful ambassador. 
 
 "You you mustn t ask me to tell secrets," 
 said the young man, as he turned away with a 
 little laugh of embarrassment. 
 
 "Is your father at home?" he asked. 
 
 "He will return Saturday." 
 
 212 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " If he were willing, would would you let me 
 come to see you?" 
 
 She hesitated, looking down at the green moss. 
 
 "I I think not," said she. 
 
 "You are right you do not know me. But, 
 somehow, I I feel as if I knew you very well." 
 
 " Where do you live?" 
 
 "At Clear Lake in the summer in New York 
 City the rest of the year." 
 
 "I have never seen a city," said she, turning 
 and looking up at him. "My father has told 
 me they are full of evil men." 
 
 "There are both good and evil." 
 
 "Do you live in a palace?" 
 
 " It is a very large house, although we do not 
 call it a palace." 
 
 "Tell me please tell me about it." 
 
 Then he told her of his home and life and 
 people. She listened thoughtfully. When he 
 had finished she said, "It must be like that 
 wonderful land where people go when they die." 
 
 From far away they could hear the sound of a 
 steam- whistle. Its echoes were dying in the 
 near forest. 
 
 "It is the whistle," said she, looking away, 
 her eyes wide open. "Every time I hear it I 
 long to go. Sometimes I think it is calling me." 
 
 213 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Neither spoke for a moment. 
 
 " It comes from a distant village where there 
 are many people," she added. "Yesterday I 
 climbed the mountain. Far away I could see 
 the smoke and great white buildings." 
 
 " I go to that village to-morrow," said Master. 
 
 She dropped her violets and looked down at 
 them. 
 
 " Would you care if you never saw me again ?" 
 he asked, 
 
 She turned away and made no answer. 
 
 In the silence that followed the young man 
 was thinking what he should say next. She 
 was first to speak, and her voice trembled a 
 little. 
 
 "Could I not see the children?" 
 
 "If you would go to Lost River camp." 
 
 "I cannot," said she, with a touch of despair 
 in her voice. " My father has told me never to 
 go there." 
 
 The young man thought a moment. She 
 turned suddenly and looked up at him. 
 
 "I know you are one of the good men," she 
 Declared. 
 
 "I am at least harmless," he answered, with 
 a smile, " and and you will make me happy if 
 you will let me be your friend." 
 
 214 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Tut, tut!" said the little crow as he flew 
 into the tree above her head. 
 
 " I would try to make you happier," the young 
 man urged. 
 
 "How?" she asked. 
 
 " I could tell you about many wonderful things. 
 You ought not to stay here in the woods, he went 
 on. "Do you never think of the future?" 
 
 She turned with a serious look in her eyes. 
 
 He continued: "You cannot always live at 
 Buckhorn. Your father is growing old." 
 
 "And he is well," said she. "My father has 
 always taught me that Death conies only to 
 those who think of him." 
 
 In the distance they could hear the thunder 
 of a falling tree. 
 
 "Even the great trees have to bow before 
 him," said the young man. 
 
 A moment of silence followed. 
 
 "Let me be your friend," he pleaded. 
 
 She thought of what her grandmother had 
 lately said to her and looked up at him sadly 
 and thoughtfully. 
 
 "But you you would make me love you," 
 said she, " and when you were like the heart in 
 my breast so I could not live without you 
 then then you would leave me." 
 
 215 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Ah, but you do not know," he answered. 
 "I love you, and, even now, you are like the 
 heart in my breast I cannot live without you." 
 
 He approached her as he spoke and his voice 
 trembled with emotion. She rose and ran a 
 short distance up the trail and stopped. 
 
 " Will you not stay a little longer ?" he pleaded. 
 
 She looked back at him with a curious interest 
 and the least touch of fear in her eyes. She 
 moved her head slowly, negatively, as if to tell 
 him that she would love to stay but dared! not. 
 
 "May I see you here to-morrow?" he asked. 
 
 She smiled and nodded and waved her hand 
 to him and ran away. 
 
 The crow laughed as if her haste were amus 
 ing. 
 
 Master sat awhile after she had gone. He 
 could not now endure the thought of leaving. 
 He had planned to go with Strong and visit a 
 number of woodsmen at their camps, and talk 
 to the mill-hands in a few villages on the lower 
 river. It was a formality not to be neglected 
 if one would receive the votes of Pitkin, Till- 
 bury, and Tifton. But suddenly he had be 
 come a candidate for greater happiness, he felt 
 sure, than was to be found in politics. His 
 election thereto depended largely on the vote of 
 
 216 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 one charming citizen of a remote corner of Till- 
 bury township. Her favor had now become 
 more important, in his view, than that of all 
 the voters in the county. He would delay his 
 canvass over the week s end. 
 
 So thinking, Master put off in his canoe with 
 the children, gathering lilies until he came at last 
 to the landing. There Sinth and the Emperor 
 had just arrived. 
 
 " W-weasels," said Strong, with a little nod in 
 the direction of his sister, who stood on the shore. 
 
 With him, as Master knew, the weasel had 
 come to be a symbol of needless worry. 
 
 "About what?" Master inquired. 
 
 "L-little f-fawns." 
 
 "Keep thinkin they re goin to git lost or 
 drownded," said she, giving each of the children 
 a sugared cooky. 
 
 " Don t worry. I shall always take good care 
 of the children," said Master. 
 
 " I know that, but I keep a-thinkin . Some 
 times I wisht there wasn t any woods. I m 
 kind o sick of em, anyway." 
 
 Those little people with the dress, talk, and 
 
 | manners of the town with a subtle power in 
 
 < their companionship, in their very dependence 
 
 upon her, which the woman felt but was not 
 
 is 2I 7 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 able to understand were surely leading her 
 out of the woods. They had increased her 
 work; they had annoyed her with ingenious 
 mischief; they had harassed her with questions, 
 but they had awakened something in her which 
 had almost perished in years of disappointment 
 and utter loneliness. At first they had reminded 
 her of her dead sister, and that, in a measure, 
 had reconciled her to their coming. Later, the 
 touch of their hands, the call of their voices, had 
 made their strong appeal to her. Slowly she 
 had begun to feel a mother s fondness and re 
 sponsibility and a new interest in the world. 
 
 Again sound-waves of the great whistle at 
 Benson Falls swept wearily through the silence 
 above them. 
 
 "Makes me kind o homesick," said Sinth, as 
 she listened thoughtfully. The Emperor had 
 begun, just faintly, to entertain a feeling akin 
 to hers. 
 
 Master helped her up the hill on her way to 
 camp with the children. He returned shortly 
 and gave a hand to the building of his little 
 home on the shore of Catamount. It was to be 
 an open shanty, leaning on the ledge, its pole 
 roof covered with tar-paper, its floor carpeted 
 with balsam boughs. 
 
 218 
 
 I 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Migleys have gone into c-camp at Nick 
 Pond," said the Emperor. " Tol em I had t 
 go w-with you t -morrer." 
 
 "I m sorry that we have to delay our trip a 
 little," said the young man. 
 
 Strong laughed. 
 
 "Mellered!" said he, merrily. He shook his 
 head as he added, "You ain t g-givin her no 
 slack line." 
 
 After a little silence the hunter added: 
 
 "Don t t-twitch too quick." 
 
 It was a phrase gathered from his experience 
 as a fisherman. 
 
 The young man blushed but made no answer. 
 
 "K-keep cool an use a 1-long line," Strong 
 added. 
 
XXIII 
 
 EXT morning, an hour after sun 
 rise, Master set out with the chil 
 dren. He promised Sinth that 
 he would keep them near him 
 and bring them back before noon. 
 They shut Zeb in a cabin, and he stood on his 
 hind feet peering out of the window and barking 
 loudly as they went away. Master brought his 
 blankets, rifle, books, and cooking outfit, for 
 that day he was to take possession of the new 
 camp. Strong had gone with the Migleys and 
 their outfit in the trail to Nick. 
 
 It was another hot, still morning, but the east 
 ern shore of Catamount lay deep under cool 
 shadows when Master dropped his pack at the 
 shanty. A deer stood knee-deep in the white 
 border of lilies. It looked across the cove at 
 them, walked slowly along the margin of the 
 shaded water, and disappeared in the tamaracks. 
 Master and the children crossed to Birch Cove, 
 
 220 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 hallooed, but received no answer, and sat down 
 upon the high, mossy bank. 
 
 "Maybe she won t come?" Socky suggested. 
 
 "She will come soon," said Master. 
 
 Sue propped her little doll against a fern leaf 
 and said: "Oh, dear! I wish she d never go 
 way." 
 
 "She s awful good" that was the opinion of 
 Socky. 
 
 "She wouldn t tell no falsehoods," Sue sug 
 gested. 
 
 "I wish she d come an live with us; don t 
 you?" Socky queried, turning to Master. The 
 little Cupid was searching for another arrow. 
 
 "Wouldn t dare say you little busybody!" 
 the young man replied. "You d go and tell 
 
 on me." 
 
 Both looked up at him soberly. Socky was 
 first to speak. " Where bouts does the beauti 
 ful lady live?" 
 
 "Way off in the woods." 
 
 "At the home of the fairies?" 
 
 "No, but on the road to it." 
 
 " If she d come an live with us, she wouldn t 
 have to fill no wood-box, would she?" Sue in 
 quired. 
 
 "Or pick up chips," Socky put in, brushing 
 
 221 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 one palm across the other with a look of dread. 
 The children had discussed that problem in 
 bed the night before. Their aunt had made 
 them fill the wood-box and bring in a little 
 basket of chips every night and morning. It 
 went well enough for a day or two, but the task 
 had begun to interrupt other plans. 
 
 "Oh no," said Master. "We ll be good to 
 her." 
 
 Socky was noting every look and word 
 nothing escaped him. He felt grateful to his 
 young lieutenant, and sat for a little time look 
 ing dreamily into the air. Then, with thought 
 ful eyes, he felt the watch-chain of the young 
 man. 
 
 "You d let her wear your watch wouldn t 
 you?" 
 
 "Gladly." 
 
 "She could look at my aunt s album," Sue 
 suggested, as she thought of the pleasures of 
 the camp. 
 
 Socky looked a bit doubtful. 
 
 " She mustn t git no grease on it or she ll git 
 spoke to," Sue went on as she thought of the 
 perils of the camp. 
 
 "Uncle Silas has put the bear s-oil away," 
 said Socky, in a tone of regret. He thought a 
 
 222 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 moment, and then added, "Ladies don t never 
 git spoke to." 
 
 "You d carry her on your back wouldn t 
 you, Uncle Robert?" inquired little Sue. Both 
 children fixed him with their eyes. 
 
 "Oh no that wouldn t do," said Master. 
 
 " Men don t never carry ladies on their backs," 
 Socky wisely assured her. 
 
 "Uncle Silas carries em," Sue insisted. 
 
 "That s only Aunt Sinthy," said the boy, now 
 a little in doubt of his position. 
 
 Just then they heard the crow chattering 
 away up the dusky trail. The children rose and 
 ran to meet "the beautiful lady," and their 
 voices rang in the still woods, calling, " Hoo-hoo! 
 hoo-hoo!" Master slowly followed so as to 
 keep in sight of them. When he saw Edith 
 Dunmore come out of a thicket suddenly and 
 embrace them, he turned back and stood where 
 he could just hear the sound of their voices. 
 
 She drew them close to her breast a moment, 
 and a low strain of song sounded within her 
 closed lips that unconscious, irrepressible song 
 of the mother at the cradle. 
 
 "Dear little brownies! I love you I love 
 you," she said, presently. Then she whispered, 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 223 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Over there," the boy answered, pointing with 
 his finger. 
 
 "Come, I ll show you," said Sue. 
 
 "Fairy queen I dare not follow you," the 
 girl answered. "I am afraid." 
 
 "He wants you to come and live with us 
 he does," the boy declared. "He ll be awful 
 good to you he said he would." 
 
 "Did he say that he liked me very much?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "I wouldn t tell," said the boy, with a win 
 some look as he thought of Master s reproof. 
 
 "You wouldn t tell me?" 
 
 " Cause it s a secret." 
 
 "You are like the little god I have read of!" 
 Miss Dunmore exclaimed, drawing him closer. 
 "Will you never stop wounding me?" 
 
 "Please come," said Sue. "You can sleep 
 in our bed an hear Uncle Silas sing." 
 
 "Where is your mother?" 
 
 "Dead," Sue answered, cheerfully. 
 
 " Way up in heaven," said Socky, as he point 
 ed aloft with his finger. 
 
 "And your father?" 
 
 "Gone away," said the boy. "I give him 
 all my money more n a dollar." 
 
 "And you live at Lost River camp?" 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Socky nodded. 
 
 "Are they good to you?" 
 
 "Yes, ma am." 
 
 "I wonder why he doesn t come?" said Miss 
 Dunmore, impatiently. 
 
 " Fraid maybe," Sue suggested. 
 
 "Pooh! he ain t fraid," Socky declared, as he 
 broke away and ran down the trail. Miss Dun- 
 more tried to call him back, but he did not hear her. 
 
 " The beautiful lady ! She wants to see 
 you," he said to Master, his eyes glowing with 
 excitement. 
 
 The young man took the boy s hand. They 
 proceeded up the trail in the direction whence 
 Socky had come. 
 
 "You ain t fraid, are you, Uncle Robert?" 
 the boy asked, eager to clear his friend of all 
 .unjust suspicion. 
 
 "Oh no," Master answered, with a nervous 
 laugh. 
 
 "He ain t fraid," the boy proclaimed as they 
 came into the presence of Edith Dunmore. " He 
 can kill a bear." 
 
 "Afraid only of interrupting your pleasure," 
 said the young man as he approached her. She 
 retreated a step or two and turned half away. 
 The children began to gather flowers. 
 
 225 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I tremble when I hear you coming," said 
 she, timidly. "You are so " She thought a 
 moment. " Strange," she added, with a smile. 
 She looked up at him curiously. "So very 
 strange to me, sir." 
 
 "You are strange to me also," he answered. 
 " I have seen no one like you, and I confess to 
 one great fear." 
 
 "What fear?" 
 
 "That I may not see you again," the young 
 man answered, with a smile. 
 
 She stooped to pick a flower. Every move 
 ment of her lithe, tall figure, every glance of her 
 eye seemed to tighten her hold upon him. He 
 stood dumb in the spell of her beauty, until she 
 added, sorrowfully, " I am afraid of you, sir I 
 cannot help it." 
 
 "I wish I were less terrible," he answered, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "I will not see you again." 
 
 "But but I love you," he said, simply. 
 
 "When I am here I am afraid when I go 
 away I am sorry." Her voice trembled as she 
 spoke. "I have no peace any more. I can 
 not enjoy books or music. I cannot stay at 
 home. I wander all day I wander, and the 
 night is long and I hear the voices of chil- 
 
 226 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 dren like those I have heard here calling 
 
 me." 
 
 There was a note of sympathy in his voice 
 when he answered, " It is the same with me, only 
 it is your voice that I hear." 
 
 She looked up at him, her face full of wonder. 
 
 " I think no more of the many things I have 
 to do, but only of one," he said, with feeling. 
 
 Miss Dunmore seemed not to hear him. 
 
 "I think only of coming here," he added. 
 
 She stepped away timidly, and turned and 
 stood straight as the young spruce, looking into 
 his eyes. 
 
 "I, too, have no more peace," he said, re 
 straining his impulse to go further. 
 
 " I must leave you I must not speak to you 
 any more," she answered. 
 
 " Stay," he pleaded. " I will be silent I will 
 say not a word unless you bid me speak but 
 let me look at you." 
 
 She stood a moment as if thinking. 
 
 "Do you hear that bird song?" she asked, 
 looking upward. 
 
 "Yes, it has a merry sound." 
 
 "It is my answer to you," said she. 
 
 "Then I am sure you love me." 
 
 As he came nearer she retreated a little. 
 227 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " I give you everything everything but my 
 self," said she. 
 
 "And why not yourself?" 
 
 Her voice had a plaintive note in it when she 
 said to him, " There are those who need me 
 more." 
 
 " I offer myself to you and to them also." 
 
 She stood with averted eyes. In a moment 
 she said, " Tell me what are we to do when those 
 we love die?" 
 
 "I, too, and all the children of men have that 
 same worry," said he. "There s an old Eastern 
 maxim, * Love as many as you can, so that death 
 may not make you friendless. 
 
 She walked away slowly. She stopped where 
 the children sat playing and embraced them. 
 
 "Will you not say that you love me?" the 
 young man urged. 
 
 The girl went up the gloomy trail with lagging 
 feet as if it were steep and difficult. That clear- 
 voiced love-call of the children halted her, and 
 she looked back. Again the bird flung his song 
 upon the silence. The sweet voice of the maiden 
 rang like a bell in the still -forest, as if answer 
 ing the bird s message. "I love you I love 
 you," it said. Then she turned quickly and ran 
 away. 
 
 228 
 
XXIV 
 
 DITH DUNMORE wandered 
 
 slowly through deep thickets, and 
 where she could just see the light 
 ed chasm of Catamount between 
 far tree- tops she lay down to weep 
 and think and be alone. She was like some 
 wounded creature of the forest who would hide, 
 even from its own eyes, on the soft, kindly bosom 
 of the great mother. 
 
 She had learned enough to have some under 
 standing of that strange power which of late had 
 broken every day into seconds. These little 
 fragments of time had all shades of color, from 
 joy to despair. She lay recalling those which 
 had been full of revelation. In a strange loneli 
 ness she thought of all Robert Master had said, 
 of far more in that wordless, wonderful assur 
 ance which had passed from his soul to hers. 
 She knew that to be given in marriage was to 
 leave all for a new love. 
 
 She knew better than they suspected those 
 229 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 few dwellers at Buckhorn how dear, how in 
 dispensable she was to them. She knew how 
 soon that loneliness, which had often seemed to 
 fill the heavens above her, would bear them 
 down. Yet she would not hesitate; she would 
 go with him, and for this she felt a sense of 
 shame. 
 
 She lay longer than she knew, looking up at 
 the sky through needled crowns of pine. That 
 passion which has all the fabled power of Fate 
 was busy with her. 
 
 A band of crows had alighted in a tree above 
 her head and begun cawing. Roc, who had 
 gone to roost in a small fir, answered them. 
 One dove into the great, dusky hall of the near 
 woods and made it echo with his cawing. Roc 
 rose and followed through its green roof into 
 the open sky. The maiden called to him, but 
 he heeded only the call of his own people, and 
 made his choice between flying and creeping, 
 between loneliness and joy, between the paths 
 of men and that appointed for him in the heav 
 ens. His had been like her own decision so 
 she thought he had heard the one cry which 
 he could not resist. Lately she had neglected 
 him. He had missed her caresses and begun 
 to think of better company. Again and again 
 
 230 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 she called, but he had gone quickly far out of 
 hearing. She listened, waiting and looking into 
 the sky, but he came not. 
 
 Master had taken the children home and re 
 turned to his little camp on the pond. She 
 could hear the stroke of his axe; she could hear 
 him singing. She fancied, also, that she could 
 hear the children call that little trumpet tone 
 which had thrilled her when it rang in the 
 woods. She rose and walked slowly towards 
 the lighted basin below her. She could not 
 bear to turn away from it. She would go down 
 and look across from the edge of the thickets. 
 She feared that she had too freely uncovered her 
 feeling for him. 
 
 Soon she turned back, but then she seemed to 
 be treading on her own heart. She ran towards 
 the place where she had met him. She thought 
 not of the children now, but only of the young 
 man. She had heard her father say: "A man 
 throws off his mask when he is alone. If we 
 could see him then we should know what is in 
 his soul." Could she look into his face while he 
 knew not of her being near she would know if he 
 loved her. She tried to enlarge this fancy into a 
 motive. It failed, however, to end her self-re 
 proaches. Soon, almost in tears, she began to 
 
 231 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 whisper: " I do not care. I must see him again. 
 I cannot go until I have seen him." 
 
 Moose-birds flew in the tops above her, scold 
 ing loudly, as if to turn her back. They an 
 noyed her, and she stopped until they had 
 flown away. She trembled as she drew near the 
 familiar cove. Stealthily she made her way, 
 halting where they had talked together. A 
 solemn silence brooded there. She felt the moss 
 where his feet had stood. He had held this 
 fragrant, broken lily in his hand. She picked it 
 up and pressed it to her lips. She slowly crossed 
 the deep, soft mat sloping to the water s edge, 
 and peered between sprays of tamarack. The 
 shadows had shifted to the farther shore. A 
 sprinkle of hot light fell upon her shoulders. 
 The disk of the sun was cut by dead pines on 
 the bald ridge opposite. She heeded not the 
 warning it gave her, but only looked and listened. 
 She could hear Master over at the landing, hid 
 den by the point of Birch Cove. He was cutting 
 wood for the night. Under cover of thickets, 
 she made her way along the edge of the pond. 
 It was a walk of more than half a mile around 
 the coves. 
 
 By-and-by she could hear the tread of Master s 
 feet and the crackle of his fire. She moved with 
 
 232 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the stealth of a deer. Soon she could smell the 
 odor of frying meat and was reminded of her 
 hunger. She passed a spring, above which a 
 cup hung, and saw the trail leading to his camp. 
 Possibly very soon he would be going after 
 water. She knelt in a thicket where she could 
 see him pass, and waited. For a long time she 
 waited. 
 
 Suddenly she rose and peered about her. 
 She paled with alarm. It was growing dusk; 
 she had forgotten that the day would have an 
 end. It was a journey to Buckhorn, and her 
 little guide where was he ? Cautiously she 
 retraced her steps along the shore. In a mo 
 ment she began to weep silently. When she 
 tried to hurry the rustling of the brush halted 
 her. Had he heard it ? What was that sound 
 far up the ridge before her? She knelt and 
 listened. It was a man coming in the distance. 
 She could hear him whistling as he walked. 
 Slowly he approached, passing within a few feet 
 of her. She had often hidden that way from 
 unexpected travellers in the forest. She waited 
 a little and hurried on. 
 
 The thickets seemed now to hold her back as 
 if to defeat her purpose. She got clear of them 
 by -and -by and ran up the side of the ridge. 
 16 233 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 She peered about her, seeking the familiar trail. 
 The dusk had thickened her alarm had grown. 
 She stopped a moment to make sure of her way. 
 Again she hurried on. Soon she entered the 
 little six-mile thoroughfare from Catamount to 
 Buckhorn. She ran a few rods down the trail 
 and stopped. It was growing dark; she could 
 scarcely see the ground beneath her; she might 
 soon lose her way in the forest. She leaned 
 against a tree-trunk and shook with sobs, think 
 ing of her folly and of her friends at home. 
 Presently she ran back in the direction of Mas 
 ter s camp. She left the trail and went slowly 
 down the side of the ridge. She must go and 
 tell him that she had lost her way and ask for 
 a lantern. She could see the flicker of his fire. 
 She groped through the bushes to a little cove 
 opposite, where, across water some twenty rods 
 away, she could see his camp. 
 
 In the edge of the dark forest the girl sat 
 gazing off at the firelight. She was weary and 
 athirst; she was tortured with anxiety, but she 
 could not summon courage to go. She could 
 see the light flooding between tree columns, 
 leaping into high tops, gilding the water-ripples. 
 She could see shadows moving; she could hear 
 voices. Light and shadow seemed to beckon 
 
 234 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 and the voices to invite her, but she dared not 
 go. She would boldly rise and feel her way a 
 few paces, only to sit down again. Tales which 
 her father had told her concerning the wicked 
 ness of men flashed out of her memory. 
 
 That light was on the edge of the unknown 
 world full of mystery and peril. She could not 
 goad herself nearer. 
 
XXV 
 
 T was Strong who had passed 
 Edith Dunmore as night was fall 
 ing over the hollow of Catamount. 
 He was returning from his day 
 of toil at Nick Pond. 
 
 " Just in time," said the young man, who was 
 eating supper at a rude table, from a pole above 
 which two lighted lanterns hung. 
 
 The great body of the Emperor fell heavily on 
 a camp-stool. He blew as he flung his hat off. 
 
 "Hot!" said he, and then with three or four 
 great gulps he poured a dipper of water down 
 his throat. 
 
 Master put a small flask on the table at which 
 they sat. 
 
 "Opey-d-dildock?" Strong inquired, softly. 
 "The same," said Master. "Help yourself." 
 The Emperor obeyed him without a word. 
 "How s that?" inquired the young man. 
 "S-sassy," Strong answered, wiping his mouth 
 with the back of his hand. 
 
 236 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Fall to," said Master, putting the platter of 
 trout in front of him. 
 
 "Here s f-fishin ," said Strong, as he lifted a 
 large trout by the tail. 
 
 "Good place to anchor. Anything new?" 
 
 "B-bear," Strong stammered, with a little 
 shake of his head. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 The Emperor crushed a potato and filled his 
 mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before he an 
 swered, "Up t-trail." 
 
 "How far?" 
 
 Strong pointed with his fork. He stopped 
 chewing and turned and listened for a breath. 
 "B-bout jnile." He sighed and shook his head 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 "What s the matter?" 
 
 "F-feelin s!" Strong answered, pointing the 
 fork towards his bosom. 
 
 "No gun?" 
 
 Strong nodded. It was a moment of moral 
 danger. He knew that Satan would lay hold 
 of his tongue unless it were guarded with great 
 caution. He sat back and whistled for half a 
 moment. 
 
 "S-safe!" he exclaimed, presently, with a sigh, 
 as he went on eating. 
 
 237 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Which way was he travelling?" 
 
 "Th-this way limpin ," said Strong. 
 
 "Limping?" 
 
 " W-wownded, " Strong added, softly, gently, 
 as if he were still on dangerous ground. 
 
 They finished their meal in silence and drew 
 up to the fire and filled their pipes. 
 
 He rose and lighted his pipe and returned to 
 the table as soon as he had begun smoking. 
 He took out his worn memorandum-book and 
 thoughtfully wrote these words : 
 
 "July the 6 
 
 " See a bear best way to kepe the ten command 
 ments is to kepe yer mouth shet." 
 
 Strong resumed his chair at the camp-fire. 
 Suddenly he raised his hand. They could hear 
 the cracking of dead brush across the cove. 
 
 "S-suthin ," Strong whispered. 
 
 Again the sound came to their ears out of 
 the silent forest. 
 
 "Hearn it d-dozen times," said the Emperor. 
 
 They listened a moment longer. Then Strong 
 rose. 
 
 " B-bear !" he whispered. " Light an rifle." 
 
 Master tiptoed to the shanty. He lighted the 
 dark lantern a relic of deer-stalking days 
 
 238 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 with which he had found his way to Catamount 
 the night before. He adjusted the leathern 
 helmet so its lantern rested above his forehead. 
 He raised his rifle and opened the small box of 
 light. A beam burst out of it and shot across 
 the darkness and fell on a thicket. The spire 
 of a little fir, some forty feet away, seemed to 
 be bathed in sunlight. The beam glowed along 
 the top of his rifle -barrel, and he stood a mo 
 ment aiming to see if he could catch the sights. 
 
 Strong beckoned to him. The young man 
 came close to the side of the hunter and sug 
 gested, "Maybe it s a deer." 
 
 "T- tain no deer," Strong whispered. "S- 
 suthin difer nt." He listened again. "It s 
 over on th-that air cove." 
 
 He explained briefly that in his opinion the 
 bear, being wounded, had come down for rest 
 and water. He presented his plan. They would 
 cross the cove in their canoe. When they were 
 near the sound he would give the canoe a little 
 shake, whereupon Master should carefully open 
 the slide and throw its light along the edge of 
 the pond. If he saw the glow of a pair of eyes 
 he was to aim between them and fire. 
 
 They tiptoed to the landing, lifted their 
 canoe into water, and, without a sound louder 
 
 239 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 than the rustle of their garments or the fall of 
 a water-drop, took their places, Master in the 
 bow and Strong in the paddle -seat behind him. 
 The hunter leaned forward and felt for bottom 
 and gave her a careful shove. Then, with a 
 little movement of his back, he tossed his weight 
 against the cedar shell and it moved slowly into 
 the black hollow of Catamount. The hunter 
 sank his paddle-blade. It pulled in little, silent, 
 whirling slashes. The canoe sheared off into 
 thick gloom, cleaving its way with a movement 
 soundless and indistinguishable. 
 
 For a few seconds Master felt a weird touch of 
 the soul in him as if, indeed, it were being 
 stripped of its body and were parting with the 
 senses. Then he could scarcely resist the im 
 pression that he had risen above the earth and 
 begun a journey through the black, silent air. 
 So, for a breath, his consciousness had seemed 
 to stray from its centre; then, quickly, it came 
 back. He began to know of that which, merci 
 fully, in the common business of life, is just be 
 yond the reach of sense. He could hear the 
 muffled rivers of blood in his own body ; he felt 
 his heart-beat in the fibres of the slender craft 
 beneath him, sensitive as a bell; he became 
 strangely conscious of the great, oxlike body 
 
 240 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 behind him of moving muscles in arm and 
 shoulder, of the filling and emptying of its lungs, 
 of its stealthy, eager attitude. 
 
 The night life of the woods was beginning 
 that of beasts and birds that see and wander and 
 devour in the darkness. From far away the 
 faint, wild cry of one of them wavered through 
 the woods. It was like the yell of a reveller in 
 the midnight silence of a city. 
 
 The sky was overcast. Dimly Master could 
 see the dying flicker of his firelight on the mist 
 before him. A little current of air, nearly spent, 
 crept over the pine-tops and they began to 
 whisper. The young man thought of the big, 
 blue, tender eyes which had looked up at him 
 that day, so full of childish innocence and yet 
 full of the charm and power of womanhood. 
 
 Master turned his head quickly. Near him 
 he had heard the sound of a deep-drawn, shud 
 dering breath, and then a low moan. He 
 thought with pity of the poor creature now 
 possibly breathing its last. He was eager to 
 end its agony. He trembled, waiting for the 
 signal to open his light. The bow brushed a 
 lily-pad. He could feel the paddle backing with 
 its muffled stroke. The canoe had stopped. 
 
 Again he heard a movement in the brush. It 
 241 
 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 was very near; he could feel the canoe backing 
 for more distance. Then he felt the signal. 
 That little shake in the shell of cedar had seemed 
 to go to his very heart. He raised his hand 
 carefully and opened the lantern - slide. The 
 beam fell upon tall grass and flashed between 
 little columns of tamarack. At the end of its 
 misty pathway he could just dimly make out 
 the foliage. He could see nothing clearly. 
 
 Again he felt the signal. He knew that the 
 hunter had seen the game. Now the light-beam 
 illumined the top of his rifle-barrel. 
 
 Suddenly the trained eye of Strong had caught 
 the gleam of eyes then the faint outline of lips 
 dumb with terror. He struck with his paddle 
 and swung his bow. 
 
 The hammer fell. A little flame burst out of 
 the rifle-muzzle, and a great roar shook the si 
 lences. A shrill cry rang in its first echo. The 
 canoe bounded over lily-pads and flung her bow 
 on the bank a foot above water. Master sprang 
 ashore followed by Strong. They clambered 
 up the bank. 
 
 "Strong, I ve killed somebody," said the 
 young man, his voice full of the distress he felt. 
 He swept the shore with his light. It fell on 
 the body of a young woman lying prone among 
 
 242 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the brakes. Quickly he knelt beside her and 
 threw the light upon her face. 
 
 "My God! Come here, Strong!" he shouted, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 His friend, alarmed by his cry, hurried to 
 him. Master had raised the head of Miss Dun- 
 more upon his arm and was moaning pitiful 
 ly. He covered the beautiful white face with 
 kisses. 
 
 Strong, who stood near with the lantern, had 
 begun to stammer in an effort to express his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "K-keep c-cool," he soon succeeded in saying. 
 " I switched the canoe an ye n-never t-touched 
 her. She s scairt th-that s all." 
 
 Edith Dunmore had partly risen and opened 
 her eyes. Master lifted her from the earth and 
 held her close and kissed her. His joy over 
 came him so that the words he tried to utter fell 
 half spoken from his lips. She clung to him, and 
 their silence and their tears and the touch of 
 their hands were full of that assurance for which 
 both had longed. 
 
 "T-y-ty!" Strong whispered as he held the 
 light upon them. 
 
 For a long moment the lovers stood in each 
 other s embrace. 
 
 243 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I don t know why I came here," said she, 
 presently, in a troubled voice. 
 
 He took her hands in his and raised them to 
 his lips. 
 
 " I must go; I must go," she said. 
 
 "Come, we will go with you," said the young 
 man. 
 
 He put his arm around the waist of the girl. 
 They walked slowly up the side of the ridge, with 
 Strong beside them, throwing light upon their 
 path. Master heard from her how it befell that 
 darkness had overtaken her in the basin of Cata 
 mount, and she learned from him why they had 
 come out in their canoe. 
 
 "You will not be afraid of me any more," he 
 said. 
 
 She stopped and raised one of his hands and 
 held it against her cheek with a little moan of 
 fondness. Curiously she felt his face. 
 
 * It is so dark I cannot see you ," she whispered . 
 
 " I loathe the darkness that hides your beauty 
 from me," said the young man. 
 
 Strong turned his light upon her face. Tears 
 glittered in the lashes of her eyes and a new peace 
 and trustfulness were upon her countenance. 
 
 "We shall see better to-morrow," the young 
 man said. 
 
 244 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "My father is coming he will be angry he 
 will not let me see you again " Her voice 
 trembled with its burden of trouble. 
 
 "Leave that to me no one shall keep us 
 apart," he assured her. "I will see him to 
 morrow and tell him all." 
 
 They walked awhile in silence. The whistle 
 blew for the night-shift at Benson Falls. Its 
 epic note bellowed over the plains and up and 
 down the timbered hills of the Emperor. It 
 seemed to warn the trees of their doom. 
 
 She thought then of the great world, and said, 
 " I will go with you. 
 
 "And be my wife?" 
 
 "Yes. I am no longer afraid." 
 
 "We shall go soon," he answered. 
 
 A mile or so from the shore of Buckhorn they 
 could hear the voice of a woman calling in the 
 still woods, and they answered. Soon they saw 
 the light of a lantern approaching in the trail. 
 For a moment Master and the maiden whispered 
 together. 
 
 Soon the old nurse and servant of Edith Dun- 
 more came out of the darkness trembling with 
 fear and anxiety. Gently the girl patted the 
 , bare head of the woman as she whispered to her. 
 In a moment all resumed their journey. 
 
 245 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 When they had come to Buckhorn and could 
 see the camp-lights, Master launched a canoe 
 and took the girl and her servant across the pond. 
 He left them without a word and returned to the 
 other shore. Strong and he stood for a moment 
 listening. Then they set out for their homes 
 far down the trail. The Emperor was busy 
 " thinking out thoughts." 
 
 "Mountaneyous!" he muttered, "g-great an 
 p-powerful." 
 
 For the second time in his life he felt strongly 
 moved to expression and seemed to be feeling 
 for adequate words. Master put his arm around 
 the big hunter and asked him what he meant. 
 
 "Oh-h-h! Oh-h-h!" Strong murmured, in a 
 tone of singular tenderness. "P-purty! purty! 
 w-wonderful purty! She s too g-good fer this 
 w-world. I jes f-felt like t-takin her on my 
 b-back an makin r-right across the s-swamps 
 an hills fer heaven." 
 
 The Emperor wiped his eyes and added: 
 
 " You re as handy with a g-gal as I am with a 
 f-fish-rod." 
 
 Next day he noted this conclusion in his 
 memorandum-book : 
 
 "Strong cant wait much longer. He s got to have 
 a guide for the long trail." 
 
 246 
 
XXVI 
 
 EXT day Master went to Tillbury 
 for his mail, a walk of some twenty 
 miles. He lingered for awhile near 
 the shore of Buckhorn on his way, 
 but saw nothing of her he loved. 
 Two fishermen had arrived at Strong s, and 
 the Emperor had taken them to spring holes in 
 the lower river. 
 
 After supper that evening he built a big fire 
 in front of the main camp, and sat down beside 
 the fishermen with Socky and Sue in his lap. 
 
 Darkness had fallen when Dunmore strode 
 into the firelight. 
 
 "Dwellers in the long house," he said, re 
 moving his cap, "I am glad to sit by your 
 council fire." 
 
 "Had supper?" Strong inquired. 
 "No give me a doughnut and a piece of 
 bread and butter. I ll eat here by the fire." 
 
 He took the children in his arms while Strong 
 went to prepare his luncheon. 
 
 247 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "I love and fear you," said he. "You make 
 me think of things forgotten." 
 
 Of late Socky had thought much of the gen 
 eral subject of grandfathers. He knew that 
 they were highly useful members of society. 
 He had seen them carry children on their backs 
 and draw them in little wagons. This fact had 
 caused him to put all able-bodied grandfathers 
 in the high rank of ponies and billy-goats. His 
 uncles Silas and Robert had been out of camp 
 so much lately they had been of slight service 
 to him. The thought that a grandfather would 
 be more reliable, had presented itself, and he 
 had broached the subject to little Sue. How 
 they were acquired whether they were bought 
 or "ketched" or just given away to any who 
 stood in need of them neither had a definite 
 notion. On this point the boy went to his aunt 
 for counsel. She told him, laughingly, that they 
 were " spoke for" in a sort of proposal like that 
 of marriage. He had begun to think very 
 favorably of Mr. Dunmore, and timidly put the 
 question : 
 
 "Are are you anybody s gran pa?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Mebbe you d be my gran pa," the boy sug 
 gested, soberly. 
 
 248 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "Maybe," said Dunmore, with a smile. 
 
 " We could play horse together when Uncle Silas 
 is away," was the further suggestion of Socky. 
 
 "Why not play horse with your sister?" 
 
 "She s too little she can t draw me." 
 
 "Gran pas don t make the best horses," Dun- 
 more objected. 
 
 " Yes they do, " Socky stoutly affirmed. " May 
 Butler s gran pa draws her round everywhere in 
 a little cart." 
 
 "Well, that shows that old men can be good 
 for something," said Dunmore. "Where s your 
 wagon?" 
 
 Socky ran for the creaking treasure. 
 
 "Now get in both of you," said the white- 
 haired man. 
 
 Socky and Sue mounted the wagon. Dun- 
 more took the tongue -peg in both hands and 
 began to draw them around the fire. Their 
 cries of pleasure seemed to warm his heart. He 
 quickened his pace, and was soon trotting in a 
 wide circle while Zeb ran at his side and seemed 
 to urge him on. 
 
 When, wearied by his exertion, he sat down 
 to rest, the children stood close beside him and 
 felt his face with their hands, and gave him the 
 silent blessing of full confidence. 
 17 249 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 For Dunmore there was a kind of magic in it 
 all. Somehow it faced him about and set him 
 thinking of new things. That elemental appeal 
 ot the little folk had been as the sunlight break 
 ing through clouds and falling on the darkened 
 earth. In his lonely heart spring-time had re 
 turned. 
 
 The children climbed upon his knees, and he 
 began a curious chant with closed eyes and 
 trembling voice. The firelight fell upon his 
 face while he chanted as follows: 
 
 " I hear the voices of little children ringing like silver 
 
 bells, 
 And the great bells answer them they that hang 
 
 in the high towers 
 The dusky, mouldering towers of the old time, of 
 
 hope and love and friendship. 
 They call me in the silence and have put a new 
 
 song in my mouth." 
 
 So he went on singing this rough, unmeasured 
 song of the old time as if his heart were full and 
 could not hold its peace. He sang of childhood 
 and youth and of joys half forgotten. 
 
 Sinth stood waiting, with the food in her 
 hands, before he finished. 
 
 He let the children go and began eating. 
 
 "This is good," said he, "and I feel like bless- 
 250 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ing every one of you. Sometimes I think God 
 looks out of the eyes of the hungry. " 
 
 After a moment he added: "Strong, do you 
 remember that song I wrote for you ? It gives 
 the signs of the seasons. I believe we called it 
 The Song of the Venison-Tree." 
 
 The Emperor looked thoughtfully at the fire 
 and in a moment began to sing. It is a curious 
 fact that many who stammer can follow the rut 
 of familiar music without betraying their infirm 
 ity. His tongue moved at an easy pace in the 
 song of 
 
 THE VENISON-TREE 
 
 The bus - y cranes go back an forth a 
 
 Mkfr J PI 
 
 1 i 
 
 1 J I" 
 
 ~M 
 
 plough - in up the sky ; . . The wild-goose drag comes 
 
 _& j ps 
 
 J_J JHi^? 
 
 down the wind, an goes a -tear - in by;.. The 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 song - birds sow their mu - sic . . . 
 251 
 
 in the 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 blue fields o - ver me, . . An it seems to grow up 
 
 I N S-4 ^] -N I 
 
 J 
 
 in - to thoughts a - bout the ven - son tree. 
 
 "The busy cranes go back an* forth a-ploughin up 
 
 the sky; 
 The wild-goose drag comes down the wind, an goes 
 
 a-tearin by; 
 The song-birds sow their music in the blue fields 
 
 over me, 
 An* it seems to grow up into thoughts about the 
 
 ven son-tree. 
 
 "The apple-blossoms scatter down a scented summer 
 snow, 
 
 An man an* wind an cloud an* sun have all begun 
 to sow. 
 
 The green hopes come a-sproutin up somewhere in 
 side o me, 
 
 An* it s time we oughter see the sprouts upon the 
 ven son -tree. 
 
 " There s velvet on the willow an* there s velvet on the 
 
 horn 
 There s new silk in the tree-top an the tassel o the 
 
 corn. 
 The woods are trimmed fer weddin s an we re all in 
 
 Sunday cl os, 
 
 An the bark upon the ven son-tree is redder than 
 a rose. 
 
 252 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "The days are still an* smoky an* the nights are 
 growin cold, 
 
 The maples are a-drippin blood, the beeches drippin 
 gold; 
 
 The briers are above my head, the brakes above my 
 knee, 
 
 An the bark is gettin kind o* blue upon the ven son- 
 tree." 
 
 Here the singer whistled and drummed with 
 his heels upon a log in imitation of the hurricane. 
 Then he began to sing of the coming of winter. 
 
 The white-haired man interrupted him. " Tis 
 inadequate, said he. " Let me try to express the 
 reaping of the north wind." Dunmore turned 
 and spoke these lines, a frown suggesting the an 
 gry sky upon his brow, a sound like that of the 
 rising storm in his heavy voice : 
 
 "What makes the big trees shake an groan as if they 
 
 all had sinned? 
 Tis God A mighty s reaper with the horses o the 
 
 wind. 
 He will hitch with chains of lightning He will urge 
 
 with thunder call 
 He will try the rotten-hearted til they reel and break 
 
 and fall." 
 
 "Now go on," Dunmore requested, as he re 
 sumed his chair, and Silas went on: 
 
 253 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "The leaves are driftin in the breeze an gethered 
 
 where they lie 
 Are the colors o the sunset an the smell o the 
 
 windy sky. 
 The squirrels whisk with loaded mouths an stop an 
 
 say t me: 
 It s time t gether in the fruit upon the ven son- 
 
 tree. 
 
 "What makes ye look so anxious, an what makes 
 
 ye speak so low? 
 It s cause I m thinkin o the place where I m 
 
 agoin t go. 
 This here I ve been a- tinker in , which lays acrost 
 
 my knee, 
 Is the axe that I m a-usin fer t fell the ven son- 
 
 tree. 
 
 I ve polished up the iron an I ve covered it with ile; 
 Its bit is only half an inch, its helve is half a mile. " 
 
 The singer pursed his lips and blew in imita 
 tion of the startled deer. 
 
 "Whew! what s that so pesky? Why, it kind o 
 
 frightened me. 
 
 It s the wind a-blowin through the top o the cute 
 ol ven son- tree . " 
 
 As the Emperor ceased, Dunmore turned 
 quickly, his black eyes glowing in the firelight. 
 Raising his right hand above his head, he chanted 
 these lines: 
 
 254 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "The wilderness shall pass away like Babylon of old, 
 And every tree shall go to build a thing of greater 
 
 mould ; 
 The chopper he shall fall to earth as fell the mighty 
 
 tree, 
 And his timber shall be used to build a nobler man 
 
 than he." 
 
 "Wh-what do ye mean by his t -timber?" 
 Strong asked. 
 
 "His character," Dunmore answered. "Men 
 are like trees. Some are hickory, some are oak, 
 some are cedar, some are only basswood. Some 
 are strong, beautiful, generous; some are small 
 and sickly for want of air and sunlight; some 
 are as selfish and quarrelsome as a thorn-tree. 
 Every year we must draw energy out of the 
 great breast of nature and put on a fresh ring 
 of wood. We must grow or die. You know 
 what comes to the rotten-hearted?" 
 
 "Uh-huh," said the hunter. 
 
 "There s good timber enough in you and in 
 that little book of yours," Dunmore went on. 
 "If it s only milled with judgment some of 
 it would stand planing and polishing there s 
 enough, my friend, to make a mansion. Be 
 lieve me, it will not be lost." 
 
 Strong looked very thoughtful. He shook 
 his head. "Ain t nothin b-but a woodpecker s 
 
 2 55 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 drum," he answered. After a moment of silence 
 he asked, "What 11 become o the country?" 
 
 "Without forests it will go the way of Egypt 
 and Asia Minor," said the white-haired man. 
 "They were thickly wooded in the day of their 
 power. Now what are they? Desert wastes!" 
 Dunmore rose and filled his lungs, and added: 
 "As you said to me one day, People are no 
 better than the air they breathe. There s going 
 to be nothing but cities, and slowly they will 
 devour our substance. Indigestion, weakness, 
 impotency, degeneration will follow. 
 
 " Strong, I m already on the downward path. 
 Half a day s walk has undone me. I ll get to 
 bed and go home in the morning." 
 
XXVII 
 
 UNMORE was up at daybreak. 
 He set out in the dusk and, as the 
 sun rose, entered the hollow of 
 Catamount. Master met him on 
 the trail. 
 
 They greeted each other. Then said the young 
 man, "I have something to say regarding one 
 very dear to me and to you." 
 
 Promptly and almost aggressively the query 
 came, "Regarding whom?" 
 "Your daughter." 
 
 Dunmore took a staggering step and stopped 
 and looked sternly at Master. 
 
 "I met her by chance " the other began to 
 say. Dunmore interrupted him. 
 
 " I will not speak with you of my daughter," 
 he said. He turned away, frowning, and re 
 sumed his journey. 
 
 "You are unjust to her and to me," said 
 Master. "You have no right to imprison the 
 girl." 
 
 25? 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The white-haired man hurried on his way and 
 made no answer. 
 
 Master had seen a strange look come into the 
 eyes of Dunmore. That trouble, of which he 
 had once heard, might have gone deeper than 
 any one knew. It might have left him a little 
 out of balance. 
 
 Full of alarm, the young lover hastened to 
 Lost River camp. He found his friend at the 
 spring and told of his ill luck. Without a word 
 Strong killed the big trout which he had taken 
 that day he fished with the pouters. 
 
 "D-didn t tell him bout that t-trout," he 
 said to Master as he wrapped the fish in ferns 
 and flung him into his pack. "Th-thought I 
 b-better wait an s-see." 
 
 He asked the young man to "keep cool," and 
 made off in the trail to Buckhorn. 
 
 Always when starting on a journey he reckon 
 ed his task and set his pace accordingly and kept 
 it up hill and down. He was wont to take an 
 easy, swinging stride even though he was loaded 
 heavily. Woodsmen who followed him used to 
 say that he could bear "weight an misery like 
 a bob-sled." That day he lengthened his usual 
 stride a little and calculated to "fetch up" with 
 Dunmore about a mile from Buckhorn. The 
 
 258 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 older man had hurried, however, and was near- 
 ing the pond when Strong overtook him. 
 
 "What now?" Dunmore inquired. 
 
 "B -business," was the cheerful answer of 
 Strong. 
 
 " It 11 be part of it to paddle me across the 
 pond. I m tired," said the other. 
 
 They walked in silence to the shore. Strong 
 launched a canoe and held it for the white-haired 
 man. Without a word he pulled to the camp 
 veranda where Dunmore s mother and daugh 
 ter stood waiting. The old gentleman climbed 
 the steps and greeted the two with great tender 
 ness. 
 
 "Snares!" he muttered, as he touched the 
 brow of his daughter. "The devil is setting 
 snares for my little nun." 
 
 Edith and her grandmother went into the 
 house. Dunmore sat down with a stern, 
 troubled look. 
 
 "Got s-suthin fer you," said Strong as he 
 held up the big fish. " C ris mus p-present!" 
 
 Dunmore turned to the hunter, and instantly 
 a smile seemed to brush the shadows from his 
 wrinkled face. 
 
 "It s your t- trout," the Emperor added. 
 "S-see there!" 
 
 259 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 He opened the jaws of the fish and showed tne 
 encysted remnant of a black gnat. 
 
 "Bring him here," Dunmore entreated, with 
 a look of delight. 
 
 Strong mounted the steps and put the trout 
 in his hands. 
 
 " Sit down and tell me how and where you got 
 him," said Dunmore. 
 
 Strong told the story of his capture, and the 
 old gentleman was transported to that familiar 
 place in the midst of the quick-water. The 
 Emperor had not finished his account when the 
 other interrupted him. Dunmore told of days, 
 forever memorable, when he had leaned over the 
 bank and seen his flies come hurtling up the 
 current; of moments when he had heard the 
 splash of the big trout and felt his line hauling; 
 of repeated struggles which had ended in defeat. 
 The white-haired man was in his best humor. 
 Strong saw his opportunity. 
 
 "I w-want a favor," said he. 
 
 Dunmore turned with a look of inquiry. The 
 Emperor urged his lazy tongue. 
 
 "Master w-wants t go t Albany an f-fight 
 them air cussed ballhooters. W-wisht you d 
 g-go out to caucus." 
 
 A "ballhooter" was a man who rolled logs, 
 260 
 

 Silas Strong 
 
 and Strong used the word in a metaphorical 
 sense. 
 
 "I don t vote," said Dunmore, and in half a 
 moment he added just what the Emperor had 
 hoped for : 
 
 "What do you know about him?" 
 
 "He s a g-gentleman an his f-father s a 
 gentleman." 
 
 A moment of silence followed. 
 
 " He s the b-best chap that ever c-cometo my 
 camp," Strong added. 
 
 Dunmore came close to the Emperor and spoke 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " Tell him," said he, " that I send apologies for 
 my rudeness he will understand you. Tell him 
 to let us alone awhile. I have been foolish, but 
 I am changing. Tell him if marriage is in his 
 mind I cannot now bear to think of it. But I 
 will try" 
 
 Dunmore paused, looking down thoughtfully, 
 his hand over his mouth. 
 
 "I will try," he repeated, in a whisper, "and, 
 if he will let us alone, some day I may ask you 
 to bring him here. You tell him to be wise and 
 keep away." 
 
 Strong nodded, with full understanding of all 
 that lay behind the message. 
 
 261 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The old lady came out of the door and that 
 ended their interview. She spoke to Strong 
 with a kindly query as to his sister, and then 
 came a great surprise for him. 
 
 "I wish she would come and visit me," said 
 the old lady. "And I would love also to see 
 those little children." 
 
 Dunmore took the hand of his mother and no 
 word was spoken for half a moment. 
 
 "It s a good idea," he said, thoughtfully. 
 Then, turning to Strong, he added: "We shall 
 ask them to come soon. I shall want to see 
 those children again." 
 
 In the moment of silence that followed he 
 thought of those little people of how they had 
 begun to soften his heart and prepare him for 
 what had come. 
 
 The Emperor paddled back to the landing and 
 returned to Lost River camp. 
 
XXVIII 
 
 ASTER accepted the counsel of 
 his friend and kept away from 
 Buckhorn. He was, at least, re 
 lieved of the dark fears which 
 Dunmore s angry face had im 
 parted to him. He left camp to look after his 
 canvass and was gone a fortnight. Strong had 
 promised to let him know if any word came down 
 the trail from their neighbors. The young man 
 returned to his little shanty at Catamount and 
 suffered there a sublime sort of loneliness. The 
 silence of Dunmore seemed to fill the woods. 
 Every day Master went to Birch Cove and wan 
 dered through the deer trails. Every graceful 
 thing in the still woods reminded him of her 
 beauty and every bird-song had the music of her 
 voice in it. He began to think of her as the 
 embodied spirit of the woodland. She was like 
 Strong himself, but Strong was the great pine- 
 tree while she was like the young, white birches. 
 One bright morning it was nearly a month 
 263 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 after Strong had returned from Buckhorn 
 Sinth put on her best clothes and started for the 
 camp of Dunmore alone. The Emperor had 
 gone away with some fishermen and Master 
 with the children. 
 
 Sinth had said nothing of her purpose. Her 
 heart was in the cause of the young people, and 
 she had waited long enough for developments. 
 The injustice and the folly of Dunmore filled 
 her with indignation. She had her own private 
 notion of what she was going to say, if necessary, 
 and was of no mind to " mince matters." 
 
 She stood for a few moments at the landing on 
 Buckhorn and waved her handkerchief. The 
 old lady saw her and sent the colored man 
 servant to fetch her across. Dunmore and his 
 mother welcomed her at the veranda steps. 
 
 "My land! So you re Mis Dunmore!" said 
 Sinth, coolly, as she took a chair and glanced 
 about her. 
 
 "Yes, and very glad to see you." 
 
 " An you ve stayed fifteen years in this camp ?" 
 
 The old lady nodded. " It s a long time," said 
 she. 
 
 "It s a wonder ye ain t all dead livin here 
 on the bank of a pond like a lot o mushrats!" 
 Sinth went on. " Cyrus Dunmore, you ought t 
 
 264 
 

 Silas Strong 
 
 be shamed o yerself. Heavens an earth! I 
 never heard o nothin so unhuman." 
 
 A moment of silence followed. Dunmore 
 smiled. He had never been talked to in that 
 way. The droll frankness of the woman amused 
 him. 
 
 " I mean jest what I say an more too," Sinth 
 went on. " You ain t done right, an if you can t 
 see it you ain t got common-sense. My stars! 
 I don t care how much trouble you ve had. A 
 man that can t take his pack full o trouble an 
 keep agoin is a purty poor stick. I know what 
 tis to be disapp inted. Good gracious me! you 
 needn t think you re the only one that ever got 
 hurt. The Lord has took away ev ry thing I 
 loved cept one. He ain t left me nothin but 
 a brother an a weak back an lots o work t 
 do, an a pair o hands an feet an a head like a 
 turnup. He s blessed you in a thousan ways. 
 He s gi n ye health an strength an talents an 
 a gal that s more like an angel than a human 
 bein , an you don t do nothin but set aroun 
 here an sulk an write portry!" 
 
 Sinth gave her dress a flirt and flung a look 
 of unspeakable contempt at him. The face of 
 Dunmore grew serious. Her honesty had, some 
 how, disarmed the man it was like the honesty 
 is 265 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 of his own conscience. There had been a note 
 of strange authority in her voice like that 
 which had come to him now and then out of the 
 depths of his own spirit. 
 
 " Suppose every one that got a taste o trouble 
 was t fly mad like a little boy an say he wouldn t 
 play no more," Sinth went on. "My land! we 
 wouldn t be no better than a lot o cats an dogs 
 that s all fit out an hid under a barn! Cyrus 
 Dunmore, you act like a little boy. You won t 
 play yerself an ye won t let these women play 
 nuther. You re as selfish as a bear. You ain t 
 got no right t keep em here, an if you don t 
 know it you better go t school somewhere. 
 Now there s my mind right out plain an 
 square." 
 
 She rearranged her Paisley shawl with a little 
 squirm of indignation. 
 
 Dunmore paced up and down for half a mo 
 ment, a troubled look on his face. He stopped 
 in front of Sinth. 
 
 "Boneka, madam," said he, extending his 
 hand. 
 
 "I forgive," said Sinth, quickly, "providin 
 you ll try to do better. It s nonsense to forgive 
 any one less he ll quit makin it nec sary." 
 
 "I acknowledge here in the presence of my 
 266 
 

 Silas Strong 
 
 
 mother," said Dunmore, "that all you say is 
 quite right. I have been a fool." 
 
 Sinth rose and adjusted her shawl as if to 
 warn them that she must go. 
 
 "Wai, I m glad you ve come t yer senses," 
 said she, with a glance at the man. " Tain t 
 none o my business, but I couldn t hold in no 
 longer. I ve fell in love with that girl o your n. 
 She s as purty as a yearling doe." 
 
 " I don t know what I would have done with 
 out her, said the old lady. " Since she was a little 
 girl she s been eyes and hands and feet for me. I 
 fear that I m most to blame for her imprisonment . 
 
 As she talked the indignation of Sinth wore 
 away. Soon Dunmore helped her into his canoe 
 and set her across the pond. 
 
 "I ll find out about the young man," said he, 
 as they parted. " He ll hear from me." 
 
 One day soon after that Dunmore began to 
 think of the children. In spite of himself he 
 longed to see them again. He started for the 
 camp at Lost River, and planned while there to 
 have a talk with Strong and Master. At Nick 
 Pond, on his way down, he met the two Migleys. 
 
 After his interview with them he decided that 
 he must have more information regarding the 
 young man before going farther. 
 
 267 
 
XXIX 
 
 ORE than a month had passed 
 since the journey of Sinth to Buck- 
 horn ; but nothing had come of it. 
 Silas, tramping with a party of 
 fishermen, had met Dunmore one 
 day, but the latter had stopped only for a word 
 of greeting. 
 
 Master had left his little camp and Strong was 
 to send for him on the arrival of important news. 
 The candidate had canvassed every mill village 
 among the foot-hills of the county but had found 
 it up-hill work. Many voters had lately become 
 bosom friends of Joe Socket, the able post 
 master at Moon Lake. Once Master had wan 
 dered into the Emperor s camp with a plan to 
 invade the stronghold of Dunmore and release 
 the girl if, perchance, she might desire to be free. 
 Strong had wisely turned the young man s 
 thought from all violence. He had taken out 
 his old memorandum-book and pointed to this 
 entry : 
 
 268 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Strong says the best thing fer a man to do in hell is 
 kepe cool. Excitement will increase the heat." 
 
 So a foolish purpose had ended in a laugh. 
 
 Since midsummer some rain had fallen, but 
 not enough to slake the thirst of the dry earth. 
 Now in the third week of September the tops 
 were ragged and the forest floor strewn with new 
 leaves and with great rugs of sunlight. Big, 
 hurtling flakes of red and gold fell slowly and 
 shook out the odors of that upper, fairy world of 
 which Edith Dunmore had told the children. 
 
 One still, sunlit day of that week the old 
 struggle between Satan and Silas Strong reached 
 a critical stage. Sinth had gone for a walk with 
 Sue and Socky, and young Migley, coming down 
 from his camp at Nick, had found the Emperor 
 alone. He was overhauling a boat in his little 
 workshop. 
 
 "Well, Colonel," said the young lumberman, 
 "we want to know why you re fighting us. 1 
 
 Strong had lately gone over to the scene of his 
 quarrel on the State land and plugged some of 
 the pines with dynamite and -posted warnings. 
 He had rightly reckoned that thereafter the 
 thieves would not find it easy to hire men for 
 that job. 
 
 269 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "You re f-fightin me," said Strong, as he 
 continued his work. 
 
 "How s that?" 
 
 C-cause ye ain t honest." 
 
 "Look here, Colonel, you d better fight for 
 us." The young man spoke with a show of 
 feeling. "We d like to be friendly with you." 
 
 Strong went on with his work, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 " We re only taking old trees that are dead or 
 dying over there on the State land. Some of 
 em are stag-headed full of widow-makers, " 
 said Thomas Migley. 
 
 It should be explained that a big, dead 
 branch was called a "widow-maker" by the 
 woods folk. 
 
 "We shall obey the law and pay a fine for 
 every stump," the young man continued. 
 "That s square." 
 
 "N-no," said the Emperor, firmly. "That 
 1-law was intended to p-protect the forest." 
 
 "You want us to be too honest to live," 
 
 said young Migley, with an oath. 
 
 "N-no. I ll t-tell ye what s the matter with 
 y-you," said Strong. " Y-you ain t got no r-res- 
 pec fer God, country, man, er f-fish." 
 
 "You must agree to stand for us against all 
 270 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 comers or get out of here to-morrow," the young 
 man added. 
 
 "Th-that s quick," said Strong, as he laid 
 down his draw - shave and looked at Thomas 
 Migley. 
 
 "You can do as you like," said the latter. 
 "We re willing to let you stay here as long as 
 you want to." 
 
 Strong saw clearly that the words were a bid 
 for his manhood. He weighed it carefully 
 this thing they were seeking to purchase he 
 thought of his sister and the children, of his 
 talk with Master on the journey from Bees Hill. 
 The skin upon his forehead was now gathered 
 into long, deep furrows. His body trembled a 
 little as he rose and slowly crossed the floor. 
 There was a kind of gentleness in his hand as 
 he touched the shoulder of the young man. 
 He spoke almost tenderly one would have 
 thought who heard him stammer out the one 
 word, "Run." Suddenly his big hand shut like 
 the jaws of a bear on Migley s arm and then 
 let go. 
 
 The young man hesitated and was rudely 
 flung through the open door. He scrambled to 
 his feet and made for the trail in frantic haste. 
 
 "R-run!" the Emperor shouted, in hot pur- 
 271 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 suit of young Thomas Migley, whose feet flew 
 with ridiculous animation. 
 
 Strong stopped at the edge of the clearing. 
 He leaned against a tree-trunk and shook his 
 head and stammered half an oath. Soon he 
 hurried into one of the cabins and sat down. 
 He looked about him at the fireplace and the 
 mantel, at the straight, smooth timbers of young 
 spruce, at the floor of wooden blocks, patiently 
 fitted together, at the rustic chairs and tables, 
 at the sheathing of riven cedar. He thought of 
 all that these things had cost him and for a mo 
 ment his eyes filled. 
 
 He went to the cook-tent and found a map 
 and spread it on the table. He could go over 
 on the State land, pitch a couple of tents and 
 build a shanty with a paper roof and siding, and 
 make out for the rest of the summer. There 
 would be two rivers and some rather wet land to 
 cross. For a few moments he looked thought 
 fully at the map. Soon he took out his worn 
 memorandum-book and wrote as follows: 
 
 "Sep the 25. Strong has a poor set of feelin s in 
 him Satans ahed but Strong will flore him" 
 
 He took his axe and saw and went to a big 
 birch-tree which he had felled in the edge of the 
 
 272 
 

 Silas Strong 
 
 clearing a few days before. He cut a twelve- 
 foot log out of the trunk and began to hollow it. 
 He stuck his axe when he heard Sinth and the 
 children corning. He lifted Socky and Sue in his 
 arms and carried them into camp. 
 
 "G-goin t m-move," he said to Sinth as he 
 put them down. 
 
 Move ! " his sister exclaimed . They re going 
 to put us out?" 
 
 Gently, fearfully, he whispered, "Ay-uh " 
 
 Sinth turned and hurried into the cook-tent. 
 It was curious that she, who had raised her 
 voice against the camp whenever a new plan 
 had been proposed, who had seen nothing but 
 folly, one would think, in its erection or their 
 life in it, should now lean her head upon the 
 table and sob as if her dearest possession had 
 been taken away. The Emperor followed and 
 sat down at the table, his faded crown of felt 
 hanging over one ear a dejected and sorrowful 
 creature. 
 
 "D-don t," he said, tenderly. 
 
 The children stood with open mouths peering 
 in at the door. Sinth s emotion slowly subsided. 
 
 "You ve worked so, Silas," Sinth moaned, 
 as she sat wiping her eyes. "You ve had to 
 carry ev rything in here on your back." 
 
 273 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 After all, it had been a tender thought of him 
 which had inspired all her scolding and her 
 weeping. He had always known the truth, but 
 he alone of all the many who had falsely judged 
 her had known it. Strong sat looking down 
 soberly in the silence that followed. His voice 
 trembled a little when he spoke. 
 
 "G-got nother house," said he, calmly. His 
 voice sank to a whisper as he added, " Couldn t 
 b-bear t see it t-tore down." 
 
 Failing to understand, she looked up at him. 
 
 " Myself," he added, as he rose and smote his 
 chest with his heavy right hand. He explained 
 in a moment "M-Migley wanted t b-buy me." 
 
 He put his hand on his sister s head and said, 
 " B -better times. After a little silence he added, 
 "Yous-see." 
 
 He left her sitting with her head leaning on 
 her hand in deep and sorrowful meditation. 
 He had built a fire in the stove and got their 
 supper well under way before she joined him. 
 
 While Sinth was making her tearful protest, 
 the children sat on a log outside the door and 
 were much depressed. 
 
 " Somebody s gone and done something to her 
 album," Sue whispered. The album was, in her 
 view, the storm-centre of the camp. 
 
 274 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 After Strong had gone to work getting supper 
 ready the two came stealthily to the knees of 
 their aunt. 
 
 "Aunt Sinthy," Socky whispered. 
 
 "What?" she asked, turning and beginning 
 to smooth his hair with her hand. 
 
 "I m going to buy you a new album." He 
 spoke in a low, tentative, troubled tone. The 
 boy s resources would seem to be equal to every 
 need. 
 
 Sinth shook with silent laughter. In a mo 
 ment she kissed the boy and girl and drew them 
 to her breast with a little moan of fondness. 
 Then she rose and went to help her brother. 
 
 A little before sundown they heard the report 
 of a rifle which had been fired within a mile of 
 camp. Strong stood listening and could hear 
 distant voices. He walked down the trail and 
 returned in half an hour. 
 
 "It s B-Business," he said to Sinth. "His 
 army is c-cominV 
 
XXX 
 
 RONG was chopping and hew 
 ing on his birch log until late 
 bedtime. He was like Noah get 
 ting ready for the destruction of 
 the world. Having finished, he 
 took his lantern off a branch beside him and 
 surveyed a singular device. He called it a boat- 
 jumper, and, inspired by a thought of the chil 
 dren, whispered to himself, "Uncle S-Silas is 
 improvinV It was a mere shell about two 
 inches thick, flat on the bottom and sheared on 
 one end, canoe -fashion. It would serve as a 
 jumper a rough, sledlike conveyance on the 
 ground and as a boat on the rivers; it would 
 carry Sinth and the children, with tents, blank 
 ets, provisions, and bedding enough to last until 
 he could return for more. 
 
 He hurried to camp and helped his sister with 
 the packing. When a dozen great bundles lay 
 on the floor, ready for removal, Sinth went to 
 bed. But the tireless Emperor had more work 
 
 276 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 to do. He made two seats, with back-rests upon 
 each, for the boat-jumper and fastened a whiffle- 
 tree to the bow end of the same. On its stern he 
 put two handles like those of a plough so that 
 he might lay hold of them and steady the jumper 
 in rough places. 
 
 Next morning a little before sunrise he made 
 off on the trail to Pitkin. 
 
 At the general store and post-office in that 
 hamlet he received a letter. It was from the 
 forest, fish, and game commissioner, who thus 
 addressed him: 
 
 " DEAR MR. STRONG, I hear that timber thieves and 
 deer-slayers are operating on State land near Rainbow 
 Lake. I learn also that you are about to leave your 
 camp at Lost River. If that is true I wish you would 
 accept an appointment as deputy for that district and 
 go at once and do what you can to protect the valley 
 of Rainbow. The salary would be five hundred dollars. 
 A letter just received informs me that Red Macdonald 
 is there with dogs. If you could deliver him into cus 
 tody you would be a public benefactor, but I warn you 
 that he is a desperate man. Please let me hear from 
 you immediately." 
 
 This gave Strong a new and grateful sense of 
 being "ahead." Before leaving the post-office 
 he penned his acceptance of the offer. Then he 
 proceeded to the home of Annette and found her 
 
 277 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 gone for the day. He sat down at the dinner- 
 table and wrote these lines with all the delibera 
 tion their significance merited: 
 
 "DEER LADY, In Ogdensburg an anxious to move. 
 Patrick can snake me out. Meet me at Benson Falls 
 Friday if possibul an youll heare some talkin done by 
 "yours hopin fer better times, 
 
 "S. STRONG. 
 "P.S. Strong s ahed." 
 
 Meanwhile Sinth was in trouble. Young Mr. 
 Migley had come, with a gang of sawyers and 
 axemen, to dethrone the Emperor and take 
 possession. He had his customary get-off-the- 
 earth air about him an air that often accom 
 panies the title to vast acreage. He found only 
 Sinth and the children and summarily ordered 
 them to leave. Then she gave him what she 
 called "a piece of her mind." It was a good- 
 sized piece, all truth and just measure. 
 
 While the furniture was being thrown out-of- 
 doors she got ready to go. In the heart of Sinth 
 indignation had supplanted sorrow. It was in 
 her countenance and the vigor of her foot-fall 
 and in the way that she filled and closed and 
 handled her satchel. Some of the brawny woods 
 men stood looking as she and the children came 
 
 278 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 out-of-doors a solemn-faced little company. 
 Something from the hearts of the men made 
 Sinth touch her eyes with her handkerchief. 
 Then a curious thing happened. Some of the 
 lumber-jacks dropped their saws and axes. 
 
 Those people could forgive much in "a good 
 fellow" they could forgive almost any infamy, 
 it would seem, but the stony heart. Let one 
 do a mean thing and rouse their quick sym 
 pathies a little and their oaths were as a dead 
 ly, fateful curse upon him. They never forgot 
 the tear of sympathy or the wrath of resent 
 ment. 
 
 The sorrow of the weak now seemed to touch 
 the hearts of the strong. The children, seeing 
 the tears of their aunt as she turned for a last 
 look at her home, followed slowly with an air 
 of great dejection. Then a strange pathos rose 
 out of their littleness, and an ancient law 
 seemed to be writ upon the faces of the men: 
 "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones 
 which believe in Me, it were better for him that a 
 millstone were hanged about his neck and that 
 he were drowned in the depth of the sea." 
 
 A murmur of disapproval arose, and suddenly 
 one voice blared a sacred name coupled and 
 qualified with curious adjectives jumped up, 
 
 279 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 livin , sufferin , eternal as if it would be most 
 explicit. 
 
 "Boys," the voice added, "I can t see no 
 woman ner no childern treated that way." 
 
 A man took the satchel out of Sinth s hand. 
 
 "You stay here," said he. "We won t stan 
 fer this." 
 
 Another burly woodsman had lifted little Sue 
 in his arms. 
 
 "I m goin down the trail to wait fer Silas," 
 said Sinth, brokenly. 
 
 She put out her hand to take the satchel. 
 
 "We ll carry it an the childern too," said the 
 woodsman, whose voice, which had been harsh 
 and profane, now had a touch of gentleness. 
 They made their way down the trail in silence. 
 
 "He better try t be a statesman," said one of 
 the escort. " He ain t fit t be a bullcook." 
 
 They passed a second gang with horses and a 
 big jumper bearing supplies for the camp. The 
 Emperor had surrendered; the green hills were 
 taken. Half a mile or so from the camp Sinth 
 halted. 
 
 " I ll wait here, thank ye," said she. 
 
 With offers of assistance the men left them and 
 returned. 
 
 All through the night Sinth had been thinking 
 280 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 of their new trouble and was in a way prepared 
 for the worst. But now, as she was leaving for 
 ever the old, familiar trees and the still water she 
 sat down for awhile and covered her face. Al 
 ready the saws had begun their work. She 
 could hear them gnawing and hissing and the 
 shouts and axes of the woodsmen. Socky and 
 Sue came near their aunt and stood looking at 
 her, their cheeks tear-stained, their sympathy 
 now and then shaking them with half- suppressed 
 sobs. The reason for their departure and for 
 the coming of the woodsmen they were not able 
 to understand. Zeb lay lolling on his stomach, 
 bored, but, like his master, hoping for better 
 times. 
 
 "Aunt Sinthy you fraid?" Sue ventured to 
 ask, and her doll hung limp from her right hand. 
 
 Socky felt his sword and looked up into the 
 face of his aunt. 
 
 "Where we goin ?" he asked, with another 
 silent sob. 
 
 "Ton my soul, I dunno," Sinth answered, 
 wearily. 
 
 "Don t you be fraid," he said, waving his 
 sword manfully. 
 
 Sinth took her knitting out of the satchel and 
 sat down comfortably on a bed of leaves. Zeb 
 
 19 28l 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 began to growl and run around them in a circle, 
 like the cheerful jester that he was. It seemed 
 as if he were trying to remind them that, after 
 all, the situation was not hopeless. He con 
 tinued his gyrations until Socky and Sue joined 
 him. Soon the big trees began falling and their 
 thunder and the hoots of the " briermen" echoed 
 far. The children came to their aunt. 
 
 "What s that?" they asked, with awe in their 
 faces. 
 
 "The trees," Sinth answered, solemnly. 
 "They re a-mowin of em down." 
 
 In a moment, thinking of the young man who 
 had heartlessly put her out, she added: 
 
 " I guess he ll find he s hurt himself more n he 
 has us." 
 
 "Who?" Socky asked. 
 
 "That mehopper." 
 
 The children turned with a look of interest. 
 
 "What s a mehopper?" Socky asked. 
 
 Sinth sat looking thoughtfully at her knit 
 ting. 
 
 " He steals folks albums," said Sue, confident 
 ly, "an he can run like a deer." 
 
 "Ain t a bit like a deer," Sinth responded. 
 " He can t go nowhere but down-hill that s why 
 ye always find him in low places an he s so 
 
 282 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 fraid folks won t see him that he swears an* 
 talks about himself." 
 
 Sue looked at her aunt as if she thought her a 
 woman of wonderful parts. 
 
 "He better look out for the Sundayman," 
 Sinth continued. 
 
 "Who s the Sundayman?" they both asked. 
 
 "He s a wonderful hunter an he ketches all 
 the wicked folks," Sinth answered. "An them 
 that swears he makes em into mehoppers, an 
 them that does cruel things he turns their hearts 
 into stones, an them that steals he takes away 
 everything they have, an if anybody lies he 
 makes a fool of em so they b lieve their own 
 stories, an he takes an marks the face of every 
 one he ketches so if ye look sharp ye can always 
 tell em." 
 
 In a moment they heard some one coming 
 down the trail. It was young Mr. Migley who 
 suddenly had found himself in the midst of a 
 small rebellion. Half his men had threatened to 
 "histe the turkey" unless he brought back the 
 " woman and the kids." It was not their threat 
 of quitting that worried him, however it was a 
 consequence more remote and decisive. 
 
 "Miss Strong, I was hot under the collar," he 
 began. " I didn t mean to put you out. I want 
 
 283 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 you to come back and stay as long as you like. 
 We can spare you one of the cabins." 
 
 "No, sir," Sinth answered, curtly. 
 
 "All right," said he, "you re the doctor." 
 
 In a moment she asked, " What you goin t do 
 with them sick folks that s camped over at 
 Robin?" 
 
 "I won t hurry em," said he; "but they ll 
 have t git out before long." 
 
 " It s a shame," Sinth answered. " You oughto 
 hev consumption an see how you d like it." 
 
 "There are plenty of hotels east of here." 
 
 " But they re poor folks an can t afford to pay 
 board, even if they d let em in, which they 
 wouldn t." 
 
 "I can t help it we ve got to get these logs 
 down to the river before snow flies it s busi 
 ness." 
 
 With him that brief assertion was the end of 
 many disputes. They were few that even dared 
 question the authority of the old tyrant whom 
 Silas had called Business. 
 
 The young man began to walk away. Sinth 
 sent a parting shot after him. 
 
 "It s business," said she, "to think o nobody 
 but yerself." 
 
 It was long past mid -day when Silas came 
 284 
 
THE 
 
 ERS1TY 
 
 with the ox. He stood listening, his hands upon 
 his hips, while Sinth related the story of their 
 leaving camp and of Migley s effort to bring 
 them back. 
 
 "S-Sawed himself off," said Strong, with a 
 smile. "You s-see." The dethroned Emperor 
 turned, suddenly, and drew a line across the trail 
 with the butt of his ox- whip. 
 
 " All t-toe the s-scratch, he demanded, soberly. 
 
 He led Sinth and Sue forward and stopped 
 them with their toes on the line. He motioned 
 to Socky, who took his place by the others. 
 Zeb sat in front of them. The boy seemed to 
 wonder what was coming. His ringers were 
 closed but his thumbs stood up straight accord 
 ing to their habit when the boy s heart was 
 troubled. 
 
 "Th-thumbs down," Strong commanded. 
 
 He surveyed his forces with an odd look of 
 solemnity and playfulness. 
 
 "S. Strong has been app inted W-warden o 
 Rainbow V- valley," said the exiled Emperor. 
 " F-forward march." His command was follow 
 ed by a brief appeal to the ox. 
 
 "Purty good luck!" Sinth exclaimed, with a 
 look of satisfaction. " But they s a lot o pirates 
 over there got t look out fer em." 
 
 285 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " They ll m-move," said Strong, as if he had no 
 worry about that. 
 
 Slowly they went up the trail and soon re- 
 entered Lost River camp. The young lumber 
 man saw them coming and went off into the 
 woods. 
 
 Some men, who had been at work near, gath 
 ered about the Emperor and offered to stand by 
 him as long as he wished to remain. Strong 
 shook his head. "W-we got t g-go," he stam 
 mered. He looked sadly at the fallen tree- 
 trunks at the door-yard, now full of brush. 
 " D-don t never w-want t s-see this place ag in," 
 he muttered. 
 
 He brought the boat-jumper into camp and 
 loaded it. Then with Sinth on the bow seat and 
 Socky and Sue behind her they set out, the men 
 cheering as they moved away. 
 
 A clear space at the stern afforded room for the 
 Emperor if he should wish to get aboard in cross 
 ing water and an axe and paddle were stored on 
 either side of it. 
 
 Strong had tacked a notice on one of the trees, 
 and it read as follows: 
 
 S STRONG 
 has moved to rainbow lake 
 
 286 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The camp was now in the shadow of Long 
 Ridge. Sinth and the Emperor were silent. 
 Bird-songs that rang in the deep, shaded hall of 
 the woods had a note of farewell in them. The 
 children were laughing and chattering as ox and 
 boat - jumper entered the unbroken forest. Zeb 
 stood in front of the children, his forefeet on 
 the gunwale, and seemed to complain of their 
 progress. 
 
 It was, in a way, historic, that journey of the 
 boat-jumper, that parting of the ancient wood 
 and the last of its children. Their expedition 
 carried about all that was left of the spirit of the 
 pioneer his ingenuity, his dauntless courage, 
 his undying hope of " better times." The hollow 
 log, with its heart hewn out of it, groaning on 
 its way to the sown land, suggested the fate of 
 the forest. Now, soon, the Lost River coun 
 try would have roads instead of trails, and 
 its emperor would be a common millionaire. 
 The jumper and the woodsman had had their 
 day. 
 
 Slowly they pursued their way, skirting thick 
 ets and going around fallen trees, and stop 
 ping often to clear a passage. Strong followed, 
 gripping the handles that rose well above the 
 stern of his odd craft, and so he served as a 
 
 287 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 rudder and support. An ox is able to go in soft 
 footing, and they struck boldly across a broad 
 swamp nearly three miles down the river 
 shore. 
 
 It was near sundown when they camped for 
 the night far down the outlet of Catamount 
 Pond. Strong put up a small tent and bottomed 
 it with boughs while Sinth was getting supper 
 ready. Their work done, they sat before the 
 camp-fire and Sinth told tales of the wilderness. 
 Sile sang again " The Story of the Mellered Bear," 
 and also an odd bit of nonsense which was, in 
 part, a relic of old times. The first line of each 
 stanza came out slowly and solemnly while the 
 second ran as fast as he could move his tongue. 
 In his old memorandum-book he referred to it as 
 " The Snaik Song," and it ran as follows : 
 
 THE SNAKE SONG 
 
 HH?^ h f^- 
 
 t 
 
 H i 
 
 ! c* 
 
 
 ~f N 1 
 
 ^ r ~ 
 
 -A 
 
 < "i 
 
 Ep=4-J J A A, 
 
 ^ J J 
 
 J 
 
 g 
 
 fc^ S- 
 
 In a sartin vil - lage there did 
 
 dwell 
 
 .. t 
 
 Jr t 
 
 s 
 
 
 J 
 
 mv t & ^ 
 
 K N; N 
 
 
 h 
 
 t* H 
 
 ver - y fine gal an I knew her well, Ry - 
 288 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ft 
 
 ft ft 
 
 
 
 -^- 
 
 tid - dy - id - dy - ay, Ry - tid - dy - id - dy - ay, Ry - 
 
 tid - dy - id - dy id - dy - id - dy odd - i - ay. 
 
 "In a sartin village there did dwell 
 A very fine gal an I knew her well, 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Ry-tiddy-iddy-ay, ry-tiddy-iddy-ay, 
 Ry-tiddy-iddy-iddy-iddy-odd-i-ay. 
 
 And one fine morning she did go 
 Down in the meadow for to mow. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 And the very first thing that she did feel 
 Was a big black snake a-bitin of her heel. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 An her heel wasn t bigger than a robin s egg 
 An the first she knew he swallered up her leg. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 An when he was try in fer to carry her off 
 She wiggled her toes til she made him cough. 
 
 Chorus 4 
 
 An* that did end the serpent s fun, 
 
 For he coughed her up an away she run. 
 
 Chorus" 
 289 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Strong whittled as he sang, and soon presented 
 the girl with a straight rod of yellow osier upon 
 which he had carved the brief legend, " Su her 
 snaik -stick." If she held to that, he explained, 
 no snake would be able to swallow her. 
 
 "I want one, too," said Socky. 
 
 " You m-mean a bear stick," Strong answered. 
 " Girls have t 1-look out fer s-snakes an boys for 
 b-bears." 
 
 They were all asleep on their bough beds be 
 fore eight o clock. 
 
 At that hour which Strong was wont to desig 
 nate as " jes daylight" he was on his feet again. 
 Whether early or late to bed he was always 
 awake before dawn. Some invisible watcher 
 seemed to warn him of the coming of the light. 
 He held to one ot the ancient habits of the race, 
 for he began every day by kneeling to start a 
 fire. He bent his head low and brought his lips 
 near it as if the flame were a sacred thing and 
 he its worshipper. 
 
 For a time that morning he was careful not 
 to disturb the others. But having attended to 
 Patrick, he hurried to call the children. He 
 hurried for fear that Sinth would forestall him. 
 He loved to wake and wait upon them and hear 
 their chatter. Their confidence in his power 
 
 290 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 over all perils had become a sweet and sacred 
 sort of flattery in the view of Silas. He had, too, 
 a curious delight in seeing and feeling their little 
 bodies while he helped them to dress. Somehow 
 it had all made him think less of the pleasures of 
 the wild country and more of Lady Ann. That 
 "someday" of his laconic pledge was drawing 
 nearer and its light was in every hour of his life. 
 The children were leading him out of the brother 
 hood of the forest into that of men. 
 
 He lifted the sleeping boy in his arms and 
 gently woke him. Zeb had followed and put his 
 cold nose on the ear of Sue. Soon the children 
 were up and the Emperor kneeling before them, 
 while his great hands awkwardly held a " teenty " 
 pair of stockings. 
 
 Sinth awoke and jealousy remarked, "Huh! 
 I should think you was plumb crazy bout them 
 air childern." 
 
 Strong smiled and left them to her and began 
 to prepare breakfast. 
 
 Soon all were on their way again, heading for 
 the lower valley of Lost River. They crossed 
 two ridges and entered a wide swamp. There 
 were many delays, for they encountered fallen 
 trees which had to be cleared away with axe and 
 lever, while here and there Strong gave the ox 
 
 291 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 a footing of corduroy. It was a warm day and 
 the children fell asleep after an hour or so. Sinth, 
 who had been tossed about until speech wearied 
 her tongue and put it in some peril, sank into 
 sighful resignation. 
 
 The jumper had stopped; Strong had gone 
 ahead to look out his way. Reaching higher 
 ground he saw man tracks and followed them to 
 an old trail. Soon a piece of white paper pinned 
 to a tree-trunk caught his eye. He stopped and 
 read this warning: 
 
 "To SILE STRONG 
 
 " You haint goin t find the Rainbow country helthy 
 place. If you go thare youll git hung up by the heels. 
 I mean business." 
 
 The Emperor took off his faded crown. He 
 scratched his head thoughtfully. That message 
 was probably inspired by some lawless man who 
 had felt the authority of the woods lover and who 
 wanted no more of it. He had heard that Migley 
 had four camps on the Middle Branch, between 
 there and Rainbow, and that they were full of 
 "cutthroats." That was a word that stood for 
 deer-slayers and all dare-devil men. 
 
 Whoever had put this threat in the way of the 
 Emperor had probably heard of his appoint- 
 
 292 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ment and was trying to scare him away. The 
 offender might have been sent by Migley himself. 
 
 " W- We ll s-see," Strong muttered, with a stern 
 look, as he returned to the boat-jumper. Many 
 had threatened him, one time or another, but he 
 never worried over that kind of thing. To-day, 
 as on many occasions, he kept his tongue sinless 
 by keeping his mouth shut, and, touching his 
 discovery on the trail, said only the two words, 
 "W-we ll see," and said them to himself. He 
 didn t believe in spreading trouble. 
 
 Slowly they made their way to a bend in Lost 
 River far from the old camp. As they halted 
 to seek entrance to the water channel Strong 
 came forward and poked the children playfully 
 until they opened their eyes. Then he put a 
 hand on either shoulder of Sinth and gave her a 
 little shake. 
 
 "How ye f-feelin ?" he asked. 
 
 "Redic lous," she answered, "settin here n a 
 holler tree jest as if we was a fam ly o raccoons." 
 It was the most impatient remark she had made 
 in many days. 
 
 "B-Better times!" said the Emperor. He 
 smiled and sat down to rest on the side of the 
 boat-jumper. He turned to the boy and asked, 
 hopefully, "How bout yer Uncle S-Silas?" 
 
 293 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 It had been rough, adventurous riding, but 
 full of delight for the children. That morning 
 their uncle had loomed into heroic and satis 
 factory proportions. Socky had long been think 
 ing of the little silver compass Master had given 
 him one day and which hung on a ribbon tied 
 about his neck. He hoped they might be going 
 where there would be other boys and girls. He 
 had been considering how to give to his uncle s 
 person a touch of grandeur and impressiveness 
 fitting the story of the "mellered bear" and his 
 power and skill as a hunter. Soberly he re 
 moved the ribbon from his neck and presented 
 the shiny trinket to his uncle. 
 
 " Put that on yer neck," said he, proudly. 
 
 "Wh-what?" his uncle stammered. 
 
 "C ris mus present," said the boy, with a seri 
 ous look. 
 
 The Emperor took off his faded crown. He 
 put the ribbon over his head so that the com 
 pass dangled on his breast. 
 
 "There," said Socky, "that looks a little 
 better." 
 
 In a moment, with that prudence which al 
 ways kept the last bridge between himself and 
 happiness, he added, "You can let me have it 
 nights." 
 
 294 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Every night since it fell to his possession he 
 had gone forth into the land of dreams with 
 that compass held firmly in his right hand. 
 
 "Here s twenty-five cents," said Sue, holding 
 out the sacred coin which her nurse had given 
 her, and which, on her way into the forest, had 
 been set aside for a sacrifice to the great man 
 of her dreams. At last the two had accepted 
 him, without reserve, as worthy of all honor. 
 They could still wish for more in the way of 
 personal grandeur, supplied in part by the 
 glittering compass, but something in him had 
 satisfied their hearts if not their eyes. He was 
 again their sublime, their wonderful Emperor. 
 
 "You better keep it; you re going to buy an 
 album for Aunt Sinthy," the boy warned her. 
 
 Her little hand closed half-way on the silver; 
 it wavered and fell in her lap. She seemed to 
 weigh the coin between her thumb and finger. 
 She looked from the man to the woman. Socky 
 saw her dilemma and felt for her. 
 
 "I ll get her an album myself," he proposed. 
 In that world of magic where he lived nothing 
 could discourage his faith and generosity. Their 
 uncle lifted them in his arms and held them 
 against his breast without speaking. 
 
 "You ve squeezed them childern till they re 
 295 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 black in the face/ said Sinth, who now stood 
 near him. with a look of impatience. 
 
 She took them out of his arms and held them 
 closer, if possible, than he had done. 
 
 At the edge of the stream he shouted, "All 
 board!" The others took their seats, and the 
 Emperor sat in the stern with his paddle. Socky 
 faced him so that he could see the compass. 
 He often asked, proudly, " Which way we goin ?" 
 and Strong would look at the compass and 
 promptly return the information, " Sou by east." 
 
 The river ran shallow for more than a mile in 
 the direction of their travel. Patrick hauled 
 them slowly down the edge of the current. 
 Strong steadied and steered with his paddle as 
 they crept along, bumping over stones and 
 grinding over gravel until, at a sloping, sandy 
 beach on the farther shore, they mounted the 
 bank and headed across Huckleberry Plain. 
 
 Noon-time had passed when they left the hot 
 plain. They threaded a narrow fringe of tama 
 racks and entered thick woods again. At a 
 noisy little stream near by they stopped for din 
 ner. Strong caught some trout and built a fire 
 and fried them, and made coffee. Sinth spread 
 the dishes and brought sandwiches and cheese 
 and a big, frosted cake and a can of preserved 
 
 296 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 berries from the boat-jumper. They sat down 
 to the reward of honest hunger where the pure, 
 cool air and the sylvan scene and the sound of 
 flowing water were more than meat to them, if 
 that were possible. 
 
 Having eaten, they rose and pressed on with 
 a happy sense of refreshment. A thought of it 
 was to brighten many a less cheerful hour. Half 
 a mile from their camping-place they found a 
 smooth trail which led across level country to 
 the Middle Branch. Socky and Sue were again 
 fast asleep on the bottom of the boat-jumper long 
 before they reached the river. When they halt 
 ed near its bank a broad stream of deep, slow 
 water lay before them. Strong unhitched the 
 ox and led him along shore until he came to 
 rapids where, half a mile below, the river took its 
 long, rocky slope to lower country. There he 
 tethered his ox and returned to fetch the others. 
 He launched his boat-jumper and got aboard 
 and paddled carefully down-stream. 
 
 Having doubled a point, they came in sight 
 of a slim boy who stood by the water s edge aim 
 ing an ancient, long-barrelled gun. His head, 
 which rested against the breech, seemed, as the 
 Emperor reported, " bout the size of a pippin." 
 
 "L-look out!" Strong shouted, as the boy 
 20 297 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 lowered his gun to regard the travellers with an 
 expression of deep concern. 
 
 "See any mushrats?" the boy asked, eagerly. 
 
 "N-no; who re you?" 
 
 "Jo Henyon." 
 
 Strong had heard of old Henyon, who was 
 known familiarly as "Mushrat Bill." For years 
 Bill had haunted the Middle Branch. 
 
 "Wh-where d ye live?" 
 
 "Yender," said the boy, pointing down 
 stream as he ran ahead of them. 
 
 Presently they came to an old cabin near the 
 water s edge with a small clearing around it. 
 A woman w r earing a short skirt and Shaker 
 bonnet stood on one leg looking dbwn at them. 
 Children were rushing out of the cabin door. 
 
 " My land ! where s her other leg ?" Sinth mused. 
 
 The Emperor looked thoughtfully at the 
 strange woman. 
 
 "F-folks are like cranes over in this c-coun- 
 try," Strong answered. "Always rest on one 
 
 leg." 
 
 He drove his bow on a sloping, sandy beach. 
 The woman hopped into the cabin door. Her 
 many children hurried to the landing. A man 
 with head and feet bare followed them. An old 
 undershirt, one suspender, and a tattered pair of 
 
 298 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 overalls partly covered his body. He walked 
 slowly towards the shore. He was the famous 
 trapper of the Middle Branch. 
 
 "F-fur to Rainbow T-Trail?" Strong inquired 
 of him. 
 
 The latter put his hand to his ear and said, 
 "What?" Strong repeated his query in a much 
 louder voice. 
 
 " Fur ain t very thick," the stranger answered. 
 
 Strong perceived that the man was very deaf 
 and also that he was devoted to one idea. 
 
 " B-big fam ly," he shouted, as he began to 
 push off. 
 
 The trapper, with his hand to his ear and still 
 looking a bit doubtful, answered, " Ain t runnin 
 very big this year." 
 
 Thereafter the word " mushrats," in the vocab 
 ulary of Strong, stood for unworthy devotion to 
 a single purpose. 
 
 Down-stream a little the ox took his place 
 again at the bow of the boat- jumper. They 
 struck off into thick woods reaching far and 
 wide on the acres of Uncle Sam. A mile or so 
 inland they came to Rainbow Trail, and there 
 after followed it. Timber thieves had been 
 cutting big pines and spruces and had left a 
 slash on either side of the trail. 
 
 299 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 The travellers dipped down across the edge 
 of a wide valley, and after climbing again were in 
 the midst of burned ground on the top of a high 
 ridge. Below them they could see Rainbow 
 Lake and the undulating canopy of a great, 
 two-storied forest reaching to hazy distances. 
 Mighty towers of spruce and pine and hemlock 
 rose into the sunlit, upper heavens. 
 
 It was growing dusk when, below them and 
 well off the trail, they saw a column of smoke 
 rising. They halted, and Strong stood gazing. 
 The smoke grew in volume and he made off down 
 the side of the ridge. He came in sight of the fire 
 and stopped. Some one had fled through thick 
 ets of young spruce and Zeb was pursuing him. 
 
 Strong looked off in the gloomy forest and 
 shouted a fierce oath at its invisible enemy. 
 
 Near him flames were leaping above a fallen 
 top and running in tiny jets over dry duff like 
 the waste of a fountain. Swiftly Strong cut 
 branches of green birch and began to lay about 
 him. He stopped the flames and then dug with 
 his hatchet until he struck sand. He scooped it 
 into his hat and soon smothered the cinders. 
 
 His face had a troubled expression as he re 
 turned to the boat-jumper. 
 
 "Who you been yellin at?" Sinth asked. 
 300 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 "C-careless cuss," he answered, evasively. 
 
 Socky wore a look of indignation. He glibly 
 repeated the oath which he had heard his uncle 
 use. 
 
 " Hush! The Sundayman 11 ketch you," Sinth 
 answered, severely. 
 
 Strong gave a whistle of surprise. 
 
 " Uncle Silas ain t fraid o no Sundayman," 
 Socky guessed. 
 
 " Y-yes I be could kill me with a s-snap of 
 his finger," Strong declared. 
 
 Socky trembled as he thought of that one in 
 habitant of the earth who was greater than his 
 Uncle Silas and said no more. 
 
 "S-see here, boy," said Strong, as he put his 
 fingers under Socky s chin and raised his head 
 a little, " I w-won t never swear ag in if y-you 
 won t." 
 
 He held out his great hand and Socky took it. 
 
 "Y-you agree?" 
 
 Socky nodded with a serious look, and so it 
 happened that Silas became the master of his own 
 tongue. He had "boiled over" for the last time 
 so he thought. The old habit which had 
 grown out of a thousand trials and difficulties 
 must give way, and henceforth he would be 
 emperor of his own spirit. 
 
 301 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 As to the fire and the man who had fled before 
 him, Strong was perplexed, but kept his own 
 counsel. He knew that the law permitted 
 lumbermen to enter burned lands on the State 
 preserve and take all timber which fire had dam 
 aged. A fire which might only have scorched the 
 trunks while it devoured the crowns above them 
 gave a rich harvest to some lucky lumberman. 
 Having gained access, he stripped the earth, 
 helping himself to the living as well as the dead 
 trees. Fire, therefore, had become a source of 
 profit wherein lay the temptation to kindle it. 
 
 Silas Strong knew that his land of refuge was 
 doomed that the forerunner of its desolation 
 was even then hiding somewhere in the near, 
 dusky woods. He thought of the peril after a 
 dry summer. The mould of the forest would 
 burn like tinder. 
 
 The dethroned Emperor reached the shore of 
 Rainbow, put up a tent, and helped to get supper 
 ready. After supper he lay down to rest in the 
 firelight, and told the children about the great 
 bear and the panther-bird. Sinth, weary after 
 that long day of travel, had gone to sleep. After 
 an hour or so Strong rose and looked down at her. 
 
 " Sh-sh! don t w-wake her," he warned them. 
 " I ll put ye t b-bed." 
 
 302 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 He helped them undress. 
 
 "You ll have to hear our prayers," Socky 
 whispered. 
 
 Strong nodded. He sat on a box and they 
 knelt between his knees and he put his hands on 
 their heads and bowed his own. 
 
 When they had finished he bent lower and 
 dictated this brief kind of postscript, "An keep 
 us from all d-danger this n-night." 
 
 They repeated the words with no suspicion of 
 what lay behind them. 
 
 Then Socky whispered, " Say something bout 
 the Sunday man." 
 
 "An keep the Sundayman away," Strong 
 added. 
 
 They repeated the words, and then, as if his 
 heart were still unsatisfied, Socky added these, 
 "An please take care o my Uncle Silas." 
 
 The Emperor lay thinking long after his weary 
 companions had gone to sleep. He thought of 
 that angry outcry and his heart smote him; he 
 thought of the danger. Perhaps, after all, they 
 would not dare to burn the woods now. But 
 Strong resolved to keep awake and be ready for 
 trouble if it came. By -and -by he lighted a 
 lantern and wrote in his old memorandum-book 
 as follows: 
 
 303 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " Strong use to say prufanity does more harm when 
 ye keep it in than when ye let it natcherly drene off 
 but among childern it s as ketchin as the measles. 
 Sounds like thunder when it comes out of a boy s mouth 
 an hits like chain lightnin." 
 
 Long before midnight rain began to fall. 
 Strong rose and went out under the trees and 
 lifted his face and hands, in a picturesque and 
 priestlike attitude, to feel the grateful drops and 
 whispered, " Thank God!" It was a gentle 
 shower but an hour of it would be enough. He 
 went back to his bed and lay listening. The 
 faded leaves that still clung in the maple-tops 
 above them rattled like a thousand tambou 
 rines. After an hour of the grateful downpour 
 Strong s fear abated and he "let go" and sank 
 into deep slumber. 
 
 Almost the last furrow in the old sod of his 
 character had been turned. 
 
XXXI 
 
 HE sun rose clear next morning. 
 Although a long shower of rain 
 had come one could see no sign of 
 it save in the drifted leaves. The 
 earth had drunk it down quickly 
 and seemed to be drying with its own heat. 
 Strong felt the soil and the leaves. He blew 
 and shook his head with surprise. 
 
 While the others lay sleeping in their tent, 
 he made a fire and set out in quest of a spring. 
 Half a mile or so up the lake shore a bear broke 
 out of a thicket of young firs just ahead of him. 
 Strong was caught again without his rifle. 
 Satan came as swiftly as the bear had fled, but 
 could not prevail against him. Strong was de 
 lighted with this chance of showing the strength 
 of his new purpose. In among the fir-trees he 
 found the carcass of a buck upon which the 
 bear had been feeding. 
 
 "P-paunchers!" Strong muttered. 
 He climbed the side of the ridge and presently 
 305 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 struck the trail leading into camp. Soon he 
 could hear some one coming, and sat on a log 
 and waited. It was Master, who had gone to 
 Lost River camp and then followed the trail of 
 the boat-jumper. 
 
 "Slept last night in a lean-to over on the 
 Middle Branch," said he. "Been travelling 
 since an hour before daylight and I m hungry." 
 
 "N-news from the gal?" 
 
 "No. Have you?" 
 
 Strong shook his head solemnly. "They ve 
 t-took the hills, an I ve come over here t work 
 fer Uncle S-sam," said he. 
 
 "Warden?" 
 
 "Uh-huh been app inted," Strong answered, 
 with a look of sadness and satisfaction. 
 
 "They re very cunning Wilbert and the rest 
 of them," Master said. "They ve put a little 
 salve on you and sent you out of the way. 
 You re too serious - minded for them. That 
 dynamite trick of yours set em all thinking. 
 They won t keep you here long you re too 
 dead in earnest. But there s room enough for 
 you over in the Clear Lake country, and when 
 they get ready to shove you out come and be 
 at home with us." 
 
 A moment of silence followed. The simple 
 306 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 mind of the woodsman was looking deep into 
 the darkness that surrounded the throne of the 
 great king. 
 
 "You re camp looks as if it had been struck 
 by lightning," Master added. 
 
 Strong showed the letter containing his ap 
 pointment, and told of the threat to hang him 
 up by the heels. 
 
 "The commissioner is on the square he 
 means well," said Master, "but they re using 
 him. These lumbermen intend to drive you 
 out of the woods, and they ve got you headed 
 for the clearing. You won t stay here long. In 
 my opinion they ll burn this valley." 
 
 Strong looked into the face of the young 
 man. 
 
 "What makes ye think so?" he asked. 
 
 " Because they want the timber, and because 
 they ve got you here," said Master. "I heard 
 of your appointment. I heard, too, that Joe 
 Socket and Pop Migley and Dennis Mulligan 
 thought you were the right man for the place. 
 I knew there d be something doing, and I came in 
 here to warn you. Don t ever trust the benev 
 olence of Satan." 
 
 "By " Strong paused and gave his thigh 
 a slap. "I know w-what they re up to," he 
 
 307 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 muttered, thoughtfully. "They ll make it too 
 hot f-fer m-me here." 
 
 He told of the fire and the man who fled in 
 the bushes. 
 
 "They re going to fire the valley, and don t 
 intend to give you time to sit down," said Mas 
 ter. "It s a dangerous country just now." 
 
 "Have t take Sinth an the ch-childern out 
 o here r-right off," the hunter answered. "If 
 you ll stay with em t -day, I ll go an g-git some 
 duffle an we ll p-put over the r-ridge with em 
 t -night." 
 
 Back at the old camp there were things he 
 needed sorely, and he reckoned that he could 
 make the round trip with a pack -basket by five 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 " It s still and the leaves are d-damp," Strong 
 mused. "Fire wouldn t run much t -day." 
 
 " To-morrow I ll get a force of men and we ll 
 surround this valley," said Master. 
 
 They hurried into camp and were greeted 
 with merry cries. Soon they were sitting on a 
 blanket beside the others, eating in the ancient 
 fashion of the pioneer. 
 
 The young man had brought a letter from 
 Gordon which contained a sum of money and 
 welcome news. Sinth read the letter aloud. 
 
 308 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " My dear friends/ " she read, " I had hoped 
 to write you long ago, but I have been waiting for 
 better news to tell. My struggle is over and I 
 am now master of myself. I paid to my credi 
 tors all the money you gave me. 
 
 "Did you give him money?" Sinth looked up 
 to inquire. 
 
 "Uh-huh," Strong answered. 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "All I had." 
 
 "You re a fool!" Sinth exclaimed, and went 
 on reading as follows : 
 
 " Socky had given me his little tin bank. It 
 contained just a dollar and thirty -two cents. 
 The sacred sum paid my fare to Benson Falls 
 and bought my dinner. I got a job there in 
 the mill and soon I expect to be its manager. 
 I m a new man. If you want a job I can place 
 you here at good pay. In a week or two I 
 shall " 
 
 Sinth stopped reading and covered her face 
 with her apron. 
 
 "What does it s-say?" Silas inquired, so 
 berly. 
 
 She handed the letter to him, and he read 
 the last words : " I shall come after the children 
 and will then pay you in full with interest. No, 
 
 309 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 % 
 
 I can never pay you in full, for there s some 
 thing better than money that I owe you. " 
 
 Strong s face changed color. He dropped the 
 letter and rose. 
 
 "W-well," he stammered. 
 
 "He sha n t have em," said Sinth, decisively. 
 
 "Tut, tut!" Silas answered. 
 
 He raised the boy in his arms and kissed him. 
 "W-we re both f -fools," he said, huskily. 
 
 "You ain t exac ly fools, but yer both chil- 
 dern," said Sinth, wiping her eyes. 
 
 " Well, you know the Bible says we must be 
 come as a little child, "said Master. "After all, 
 money is only a measure of value, and one thing 
 it does with absolute precision a man s money 
 measures the depth of his heart." 
 
XXXII 
 
 TRONG left camp with his pack 
 and rifle and two bear-traps. He 
 was nearing the dead buck when 
 a shot stopped him, and a bullet 
 cut through his left fore-arm. The 
 deadly missile came no swifter than his under 
 standing of it. 
 
 He dropped as if a death-blow had struck him, 
 and, clinging to his rifle, crept in among the firs. 
 He flung off the straps of his basket. He lay 
 still a moment and then cautiously got to his 
 knees. Blood was trickling down his hand, but 
 he gave no heed to it. The ball had come from 
 higher ground, towards which he had been walk 
 ing. The man who had tried to kill him could 
 not have stood more than two hundred feet 
 away. Strong sat, rifle in hand, peering through 
 the fir branches alert as a panther waiting for 
 its prey. Soon he caught a glimpse of his 
 enemy fleeing between distant tree columns. 
 The sight seemed to fill him with deadly anger. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 He leaped to his feet, seized his pack -basket, 
 and started swiftly in pursuit of him. He 
 gained the summit of the high ground and saw 
 a broad slash covered with berry bushes and 
 sloping to the flats around Bushrod Creek. A 
 trail cut through it from the edge of the woods 
 near him. 
 
 He stopped and listened. He could hear the 
 sound of retreating footsteps and could see 
 briers moving some thirty rods down the slash. 
 His heart had shaken off its rage. He was now 
 the cunning, stealthy, determined hunter. He 
 saw a dry, stag-headed pine in the edge of the 
 briers near him and hurried up its shaft like a 
 bear pressed by the dogs. On a dead limb, 
 some thirty feet above ground, he halted and 
 looked away. He could see nothing of his un 
 known foe. 
 
 Slowly Strong descended from the dead tree. 
 He had just begun to feel the pain of his wound. 
 Blood was dripping fast from it; he looked like 
 a butcher in the midst of his task. He muttered 
 as he began to roll his sleeve, " G-guess they do 
 inten t shove me out o this c -country." 
 
 He blew as he looked at the wound. 
 
 "B-Business is p-prosperin ," he went on, as 
 he held one end of a big red handkerchief be- 
 
 312 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 tween his teeth and wound it above the torn 
 muscles and firmly knotted the ends. 
 
 "W-war!" he muttered, as he went to the 
 near bushes and began to gather spiders 
 webs. 
 
 It is to be regretted that for a moment he 
 forgot his promise to Socky and "boiled over" 
 from the heat of his passion. 
 
 He sat on the ground and with his knife scraped 
 away the blood clots. 
 
 "D-damn soft-nose bullet!" he muttered, with 
 a serious look, smoothing down the fibres of 
 torn flesh. 
 
 He spread the webs upon his wound, and held 
 them close awhile under his great palm. Soon 
 he moistened a lot of tobacco and put it on the 
 webs and held it there. After an hour or so 
 the blood stopped. Then, gradually, he relieved 
 the tension of his handkerchief, and by-and-by 
 used it for a bandage on his wound. 
 
 He rose and shouldered his pack and began 
 to search for the tracks of his enemy. He soon 
 discovered those of the bear which had fled be 
 fore him that morning. 
 
 "S-see here, Strong," he muttered, "th-this 
 won t scurcely do. I arrest you, S. Strong, 
 Esquire. Y-you re my prisoner. T-tryin t 
 
 313 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 kill a man you b-bloodthirsty devil! C-come 
 with me. We ll hunt fer b-bears." 
 
 The Emperor had often addressed himself 
 with severe and even copious condemnation, 
 but this was the first time that he had ever 
 taken S. Strong by the coat-collar and violently 
 faced him about. 
 
 He could see clearly where the bear had 
 broken through the wet briers on his way down 
 to the flat country. It was a moment of peril, 
 and he gave himself no time for argument. He 
 hurried away in the trail of the bear. It lay 
 before him, unmistakable as the wake of a boat, 
 and would show where the animal was wont to 
 cross the water below. He came soon to a 
 great log lying from shore to shore of that inlet 
 of Rainbow which was called Bushrod Creek. 
 He could see tracks near the end of the log, and 
 there, with a spruce pole for a lever, he set his 
 traps in the sand so that, if the first were not 
 sprung, the second would be sure to take hold. 
 He covered the great, yawning, seven-toothed 
 jaws of steel and fastened heavy clogs upon 
 both trap chains. Then he took the piece of 
 bacon from his pack and hung it on a branch 
 above the traps. 
 
 Shrewdly the hunter had made his plan. 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 That bear would probably return to the dead 
 buck, and the scent of the bacon would attract 
 him to that particular crossing. 
 
 He tore two pages from his memorandum- 
 book, and wrote this warning on each: 
 
 " Stop traps ahed 
 
 "S. STRONG." 
 
 He fastened them to stakes and posted them 
 on two sides of the point of danger. 
 
 It was then past eleven and too late for the 
 long journey to Lost River camp. He decided 
 to go to Henyon s on the Middle Branch and 
 get the trapper to come and keep watch while 
 he took Sinth and the children to Benson Falls. 
 
 On his way out of the slash he killed a deer, 
 and dressed and hung him on a tree. Then he 
 set out for the trail to Henyon s. 
 
 He had walked for an hour or so when his 
 pace began to slacken. 
 
 "T-y-ty!" he whispered, stopping suddenly. 
 "S. Strong, what s the m-matter? Yer all of 
 a-tremble." 
 
 Strong felt sick and weary, and took off his 
 pack and sat down to rest on a bed of leaves. 
 Then he discovered that the handkerchief upon 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 his arm was dripping wet. Again he stopped 
 the blood by cording. 
 
 He lay back on the ground suffering with 
 faintness and acute pain. Soon obeying the 
 instinct of man and beast, which prompts one 
 to hide his weakness and even his death-throes, 
 he crept behind the top of a fallen tree. 
 
 His heart had been overstrained of late by 
 worry and heavy toil. Now for the first time 
 he could feel it laboring a little as if it missed 
 the blood which had been dripping slowly but 
 steadily from his arm. At last a day was come 
 that had no pleasure in it a day when the 
 keepers of the house had begun to tremble. 
 
 Soon the warm sunlight fell through forest 
 branches on the great body of Strong, who had 
 lost command of himself and become the 
 prisoner of sleep. 
 
 In the memorandum -book there is an entry 
 without date in a script of unusual size. Those 
 large letters were made slowly and with a trem 
 bling hand. It was probably written while he 
 sat there in the lonely, autumn woods before 
 giving up to his weakness. This is the entry: 
 
 "Theys days when I dont blieve God is over per- 
 ticklar with a man bout swearin." 
 
 316 
 
XXXIII 
 
 OON after breakfast that morning 
 Master had hitched the ox to the 
 boat-jumper. 
 
 "My land! Where ye goin ?" 
 Sinth inquired. 
 
 "To-morrow we re going out to Benson Falls 
 with you and the children," said Master. "I 
 thought we d better take the ox and what things 
 you need to-day as far as Link Harris s. That s 
 about four miles down the Leonard trail. The 
 ox will have all he can do to-morrow if he starts 
 from Harris s." 
 
 The young man said nothing of another pur 
 pose which he had in mind that of learning, as 
 soon as possible, the nearest way out of the 
 Rainbow country. 
 
 "What does that mean?" Sinth asked. 
 
 "Only this we may have trouble with these 
 
 pirates, and we want to get you out of the 
 
 way. We ll have to travel, and we can t 
 
 leave you in the camp alone. You and the 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 children can ride over, and we ll come back 
 afoot." 
 
 So Sinth packed her satchels and a big camp- 
 bag, and all made the journey to Harris s where 
 they left the ox and the jumper. 
 
 It was near six o clock when they returned 
 to the little camp at Rainbow. Strong was not 
 there, and after supper, while the dusk fell, they 
 sat on a blanket by the fire, and Sinth raked the 
 old scrap-heap of family history to which a 
 score of ancestors had contributed, each in his 
 time. It was all a kind of folk-lore mouldy, 
 rusty, distorted, dreamlike. It told of bears 
 in the pig-pen, of moose in the door-yard, of 
 panthers glaring through the windows at night, 
 of Indians surrounding the cabin, and of the 
 torture by fire and steel. 
 
 At bedtime Silas had not arrived. Sinth, 
 however, showed no sign of worry. He knew the 
 woods so well, and there were bear and fish and 
 sundry temptations, each greater than his bed. 
 
 "Mebbe he s took after a bear," Sinth sug 
 gested,, while she began to undress the children. 
 
 "You remember we heard him shoot soon 
 after he left here," said Master. " It may be he 
 wounded a bear and followed him." 
 
 "Like as not," she answered. 
 
 318 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 In a moment she put her hand on Master s 
 arm and whispered to him. 
 
 "Say," said she, "I don t want to make 
 trouble, but if I was you I wouldn t wait no 
 longer for that old fool." 
 
 She stabbed the needles into her ball of yarn 
 and rolled up her knitting. She continued, with 
 a sigh of impatience: 
 
 "I d go over to Buckhorn an git that girl, if 
 I had to bring er on my back." 
 
 "That s about what I propose to do," said 
 the young man, with a laugh. 
 
 "I m sick o this dilly-dallyin ," said Sinth, 
 "an I guess she is, too." 
 
 With that she led Socky and Sue into the tent. 
 
 When the others had gone to bed Master be 
 gan to think of the shot which had broken the 
 silence of the autumn woods that morning. He 
 lighted a lantern and followed as nearly as he 
 could the direction his friend had taken. By- 
 and-by he stopped and whistled on his thumb 
 and stood listening. The woods were silent. 
 Soon he could see where Strong had crossed a 
 little run and roughed the leaves beyond it. 
 Master followed his tracks and came to the 
 dead deer. He saw that a bear had found it, 
 and near by there were signs of a struggle and 
 
 319 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 of fresh blood. Now satisfied that Strong had 
 shot and followed the bear, he hurried back to 
 camp. 
 
 He spread a blanket before the fire and lay 
 down to think and rest in the silence. Buck- 
 horn was only four miles from the upper end of 
 Rainbow. One could put his canoe in the 
 Middle Branch and go without a carry to the 
 outlet of Slender Lake little more than a great 
 marsh then up the still water to a landing 
 within half an hour of Dunmore s. He would 
 make the journey in a day or two, and, if pos 
 sible, take the girl out of the woods. 
 
 The night was dark and still. He could hear 
 now and then the fall of a dead leaf that gave 
 a ghostly whisper as it brushed through high 
 branches on its way down. 
 
 Suddenly another sound caught his ear. He 
 rose and listened. It was a distant, rhythmic 
 beat of oars on the lake. Who could be cross 
 ing at that hour? He walked to the shore and 
 stood looking off into inky darkness. He could 
 still hear the sound of oars. Some one was row 
 ing with a swift, nervous, jumping stroke, and 
 the sound was growing fainter. Somehow it 
 quickened the pulse of the young man a little 
 he wondered why. 
 
 320 
 
XXXIV 
 
 ASTER returned to the fire and 
 lay back on his blanket. Little 
 puffs of air had begun to rattle 
 the dead leaves above him. Soon 
 he could hear a wind coming over 
 the woodland. It was like the roar of dis 
 tant sea - billows. Waves of wind began to 
 whistle in the naked branches overhead. In a 
 moment the main flood of the gale was roaring 
 through them, and every tree column had be 
 gun to creak and groan. Master rose and looked 
 up at the sky. He could see a wavering glow 
 through the tree-tops. The odor of smoke was 
 in the air. He ran to call Miss Strong, and met 
 her coming out of her tent. She had smelled 
 the smoke and quickly dressed. 
 
 "My land, the woods are afire!" she cried. 
 The sky had brightened as if a great, golden 
 moon were rising. 
 
 Si nth ran back into her tent and woke the 
 children. With swift and eager hands the 
 
 321 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 young man helped her while she put on their 
 clothes. She said not a word until they were 
 dressed. Then, half blinded by thickening 
 smoke and groping on her way to the other 
 tent, she said, despairingly, "I wonder where 
 Silas is?" 
 
 A great, feathery cinder fell through the tree- 
 tops. 
 
 "Come quick, we must get out of here," Mas 
 ter called, as he lifted the crying children. 
 "We ve no time to lose." 
 
 She flung some things in a satchel and tried to 
 follow. In the smoke it was difficult to breathe 
 and almost impossible to find their way. Mas 
 ter put down the children and tore some rope 
 from a tent-side and tied it to the dog s collar. 
 Then he shouted, " Go home, Zeb !" They clung 
 to one another while the dog led them into the 
 trail. Master had Socky and Sue in his arms. 
 He hurried up the long slope of Rainbow Ridge, 
 the woman following. 
 
 They could now hear the charge and raven of 
 the flames that were tearing into a resinous 
 swamp-roof not far away. 
 
 "Comin fast!" Sinth exclaimed. "Can t see 
 or breathe hardly." 
 
 "Drop your satchel and cling to my coat- 
 322 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 tails," Master answered, stopping to give her a 
 hold. 
 
 A burning rag of rotten timber, flying with 
 the wind, caught in a green top above them. It 
 broke and fell in flakes of fire. Master flung one 
 off his coat-sleeve, and, seizing a stalk of witch- 
 hopple, whipped the glow out of them. On 
 they pressed, mounting slowly into better air. 
 Just ahead of them they could see the wavering 
 firelight on their trail. On a bare ledge near 
 the summit they stopped to rest their lungs a 
 moment. 
 
 They were now 7 above the swift army of flame 
 and a little off the west flank of it. They could 
 see into a red, smoky, luminous gulf, leagues 
 long and wide, beneath the night-shadow. Ten 
 thousand torches of balsam and spruce and pine 
 and hemlock sent aloft their reeling towers of 
 flame and flung their light through the long 
 valley. It illumined a black, wind-driven cloud 
 of smoke waving over the woodland like a dis 
 mal flag of destruction. A great wedge of flame 
 was rending its way northward. Sparks leaped 
 along the sides of it like fiery dust beneath the 
 feet of the conqueror. They rose high and 
 drifted over the lake chasm and fell in a sleet 
 of fire on the lighted waves. The loose and 
 
 323 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 tattered jacket of many an old stub was torn 
 into glowing rags and scattered by the wind. 
 Some hurtled off a mile or more from their source, 
 and isolated fountains of flame were spreading 
 here and there on balsam flats near the lake 
 margin. Some of the tall firs, when first touched 
 by the cinder-shower, were like great Christmas- 
 trees hung with tinsel and lighted by many 
 candles. New -caught flames, bending in the 
 wind, had the look of horses at full gallop. Ropes 
 and arrows and spears and lances of fire were 
 flying and curveting over the doomed woods. 
 
 The travellers halted only for a moment . They 
 could feel the heat on their faces. Black smoke 
 had begun to roll over the heights around 
 them. 
 
 " It 11 go up the valley in an hour an cut Silas 
 off," Sinth whimpered as they went on. 
 
 * " He must have crossed the valley before now," 
 the young man assured her. 
 
 The woman ran ahead and called, loudly, 
 " Silas! Silas!" She continued calling as they 
 hurried on through thickening smoke. They 
 halted for a word at Leonard s Trail, which left 
 the main thoroughfare to Rainbow, and, going 
 down the east side of the ridge, fared away some 
 ten miles over hill and dale to the open country. 
 
 324 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 It was at right angles with the way of the wind 
 and would soon lead them out of danger. 
 
 "Make for Benson Falls with the childern!" 
 cried Sinth. "I m goin after Silas." She knew 
 that her brother would surely be coming that, 
 seeing the fire, he would take any hazard to 
 reach them. 
 
 Master knew not what to do. He had begun 
 to worry about the people at Buckhorn, but his 
 work was nearer to his hand. It was there at 
 the fork in the trail. He sent a loud, far-reach 
 ing cry down the wind, but heard no answer. 
 
 "He ll take care of himself you d better get 
 away from this valley," he called. 
 
 An oily top had taken fire below and within 
 a hundred yards of them. 
 
 "Go, go quick, an save them childern!" she 
 urged. Then she ran away from him. 
 
 She hurried along the top of the ridge, calling 
 as she went. A dim, misty glow filled the 
 cavern of the woods around her. Just ahead 
 drops of fire seemed to be dripping through the 
 forest roof. It failed to catch. It would let 
 her go a little farther, and she pressed on. A 
 fold of the great streamer of smoke was rent 
 away and rolled up the side of the ridge and 
 covered her. She sank upon her knees, nearly 
 
 325 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 smothered, and put her skirt over her face. The 
 cloud passed in a moment. Her sleeve caught 
 fire and she put it out with her hand. She 
 felt her peril more keenly and tried to run. She 
 heard Zeb sniffing and coughing near. Master 
 had let him go, thinking that he might help her 
 in some way. She stooped and called to him 
 and took hold of the dragging rope. The dog 
 pressed on so eagerly that he carried part of 
 her weight. A broken bough in a tree-top just 
 ahead of her had caught fire and swung like a 
 big lantern. She had no sooner passed than 
 she heard the tree burst into flame with a sound 
 like the frying of fat. She felt her hand sting 
 ing her and saw that a little flame was running 
 up the side of her skirt. She cried, "Mercy!" 
 and knelt and smothered it with her hands. 
 Gasping for breath, she fell forward, her face 
 upon the ground. 
 
 "Silas Strong," she moaned, "you got to 
 come quick or I won t never see you again." 
 The dog heard her and licked her face. 
 
 Down among the ferns and mosses she found a 
 stratum of clear air, and in a moment rose and 
 reeled a few steps farther. The flank of the 
 invader had overrun the heights. Her seeking 
 was near its end. Showers of fire were falling 
 
 326 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 beyond and beside her. She lay down and 
 covered her face to protect it from heat and 
 smoke. She rose and staggered on, calling loud 
 ly. Then she heard a bark from Zeb and the 
 familiar halloo of Silas Strong. 
 
 Through some subtle but sure intuition the 
 two had known what to expect of each other 
 and had clung to the trail. She saw him run 
 ning out of the smoke-cloud and whipping his 
 arms with his old felt hat. One side of his 
 beard was burned away. He picked her up 
 as if she had been a child and ran down the east 
 side of the ridge with her, leaping over logs and 
 crashing through fallen tops. Beyond the show 
 ering sparks he stopped and smothered a circle 
 of creeping fire on her skirt. Sinth lay in his 
 arms moaning and sobbing. He shook her and 
 shouted, almost fiercely, "The leetle f -fawns 
 wh-where be they?" 
 
 "Gone with him on Leonard s Trail," Sinth 
 answered, brokenly. 
 
 He entered a swamp in the dim-lighted forest, 
 now running, now striding slowly through fallen 
 timber and up to his knees in the damp earth. 
 Every moment the air was growing clearer. 
 He ran over a hard -wood hill and slackened pace 
 while he made his way half across a wide flat. 
 
 327 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 When he struck the trail to Benson Falls the 
 fire-glow was fainter. Now and then a great, 
 rushing billow of light swept over them and 
 vanished. He stopped and blew and put Sinth 
 on her feet. 
 
 "Hard n-night, sis/ said he, tenderly. 
 
 She stood and made no answer. In a flare 
 of firelight he saw that she was holding out one 
 of her hands. He struck a match and looked 
 at it and made a rueful cluck. The fire of the 
 match seemed to frighten her; she staggered 
 backward and fell with a cry. He caught her 
 up and strode slowly on. Soon she seemed to re 
 cover self-control and lay silent. He was in 
 great pain; he was reeling under his burden, 
 but he kept on. She put up a hand and felt his 
 face. 
 
 "Why, Silas," she said, in a frightened voice, 
 "you re crying." 
 
 It was then that he fell to the ground helpless. 
 
XXXV 
 
 ERROR had begun to spread in 
 the wilderness north of Rainbow. 
 The smoky wind, the growing fire 
 light had roused all the children 
 of the forest. Chattering birds 
 rose high and took the way of the wind to 
 safety. One could see flying lines of wild-fowl 
 in the lighted heavens; faintly, as they passed, 
 one could hear their startled cries. Deer ran 
 aimlessly through the woods like frightened 
 sheep. From scores of camps on lake and 
 pond and river from Buckhorn, from Barsook, 
 from Five Ponds, from Sabattis, from Big and 
 Little Sandy, from Lost River people, who had 
 seen the fire coming, were on their way out of 
 the woods. 
 
 Master ran at first down Leonard s Trail 
 with the boy and girl in his arms. Soon his 
 thoughts halted him. He had withstood the 
 severest trial that may be set before a man. 
 To be compelled to seek safety with the chil- 
 329 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 dren, while a woman took the way of peril 
 before his eyes, had made him falter a mo 
 ment. 
 
 He hoped that Sinth had left the ridge, now 
 overrun with flames, and fled down the slope. 
 If so she would be looking for Leonard s Trail. 
 He stopped every few paces and sent a loud 
 halloo into the woods. Fire was crackling down 
 the side of the ridge. As he looked back it 
 seemed to him that the great lake of hell must 
 be flooding into the world. 
 
 Soon the trail led him to Sinth, who was on 
 her knees and sobbing beside her brother. 
 
 That wiry little woman had struggled there 
 alone with energy past all belief. She thought 
 only of the danger and forgot her pain. She 
 had toiled with the heavy body of her brother, 
 as the ant toils with a burden larger than itself, 
 dragging it slowly, inch by inch, in the direction 
 of Harris s. She had moved it a distance of 
 some fifty feet before she heard the call of Mas 
 ter. Then she fell moaning and clinging to the 
 hands of him she loved better, far better even, 
 than she had ever permitted herself to know. 
 It may well be doubted O you who have prob 
 ably lost patience with her long ago! if any 
 thing in human history is more wonderful than 
 
 330 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 the lonely struggle of hers in that dim, flaring, 
 threatening hell-glow. 
 
 Master quickly knelt by the fallen Emperor. 
 
 "What s the matter?" he asked. 
 
 "He s gi n out done fer me until he can t do 
 no more," she wailed. 
 
 She put her arms around the great breast of 
 the man and laid her cheek upon it tenderly. 
 Then her heart, which had always hidden its 
 fondness, spoke out in a broken cry: 
 
 " Silas Strong speak t me. I can t I can t 
 spare ye nohow I can t spare ye." 
 
 The children knelt by her and called with 
 frightened voices: "Uncle Silas! Uncle Silas!" 
 
 o 
 
 Strong began to move. Those beloved voices 
 had seemed to call him back. He put his hand 
 on the head of Sinth and drew it close to him. 
 
 "B-better times!" he whispered. "B-better 
 times, I tell ye, s-sis!" 
 
 He struggled to his knees. 
 
 "S-say," he said to Master, "I ve been shot. 
 T-tie yer han kerchief r-round my arm quick." 
 
 The young man tied his handkerchief as 
 directed. Then Strong tried to rise, but his 
 weight bore him down. 
 
 "Lie still," said Master. "I can carry you." 
 
 He took the rope from Zeb s collar and looped 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 it over the breast of the helpless man and drew 
 its ends under his arms and knotted them. 
 Then, while Sinth supported her brother, the 
 young man reached backward over his shoul 
 ders and, grasping the rope, lifted his friend so 
 their backs were against each other, and, lean 
 ing under his burden, struggled on with it, the 
 others following. 
 
 It was a toilsome, painful journey to Harris s. 
 But what is impossible when the strong heart 
 of youth, warmed with dauntless courage, turns 
 to its task? We that wonder as we look back 
 ward may venture to put the query, but dare 
 not answer it. 
 
 Often Master fell to his knees and there 
 steadied himself a moment with heaving breast, 
 then tightened his thews again and rose and 
 measured the way with slow, staggering feet. 
 
 An hour or so later a clear-voiced call rang 
 through the noisy wind. They stopped and 
 listened. 
 
 "Somebody coming," said Master. 
 
 He answered with a loud halloo as they went 
 on wearily. Soon they saw some one approach 
 ing in the dusky trail. 
 
 "Who s there?" the young man asked. 
 
 " Edith Dunmore," was the answer that trem- 
 33 2 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 bled with gladness. " Oh, sir! I would have gone 
 through the fire." 
 
 "I know," said he, you would have gone 
 through the fire." 
 
 "For for you," she added, brokenly. 
 
 Master dared not lay down his burden. He 
 toiled on, his heart so full that he could not an 
 swer. The girl walked beside him for a moment 
 of solemn, suggestive silence. She could dimly 
 see the prostrate body of Strong on the back of 
 her lover, and understood. What a singular 
 and noble restraint was in that meeting! 
 
 "I love you I love you, and I want to help 
 you," she said, as she walked beside him. 
 
 "Help Miss Strong," he answered. "She is 
 badly burned." 
 
 Little Sue was overcome with weariness and 
 fear, and could not be comforted. 
 
 The maiden carried her with one arm and 
 with the other supported Sinth. So, slowly, 
 they made their way over the rough trail. 
 
 "How came you here?" Master inquired, 
 presently. 
 
 "We saw the fire coming and hurried to 
 Slender Lake, and fled in boats and came down 
 the river." 
 
 When, late in the night, the little band of 
 333 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 lovers reeled across the dimlit clearing, it was 
 in sore distress. Their feet dragged, their hearts 
 and bodies stooped with heaviness. A company 
 of woods -folk, who stood in front of Harris s 
 looking off at the fire, ran to meet them. They 
 lifted the dragging Emperor and helped the 
 young man carry him in-doors. Master was no 
 sooner relieved of his burden than he fell ex 
 hausted on the floor. 
 
 Edith Dunmore knelt by him and raised his 
 hands to her lips. She helped him rise, and then 
 for a moment they stood and trembled in each 
 other s arms, and were like unto the oak and the 
 vine that clings to it. 
 
 Dunmore and his mother stood looking at 
 them. The white-haired man had taken the 
 children in his arms. 
 
 " I thought she went to bed and to sleep long 
 ago," he muttered. 
 
 " Without her we should have perished," said 
 the old lady. 
 
 "Yes, and she shall have her way," he an 
 swered. "One might as well try to keep the 
 deer out of the lily-pads." He kissed the boy 
 and girl, and added, with a sigh, "This world is 
 for the young." 
 
XXXVI 
 
 LL stood aghast for a moment 
 in the light of the lamps around 
 the bed of Strong. His clothes 
 were burned, bloody, and torn 
 they lay in rags upon him. His 
 face and hands were swollen; part of his hair 
 and beard had been shorn off in the storm of 
 fire through which he had fought his way. He 
 spoke not, but there was the grim record of his 
 fight with the flames of the terrible punish 
 ment they had put upon him while the sturdy 
 old lover sought his friends. All hands made 
 haste to do what they could for him and for the 
 woman he had carried out of the fire of the pit. 
 He had told Master that Annette was waiting 
 for him at the Falls. The young man sent 
 Harris to bring her with horse and buckboard. 
 Strong lay like one dead while they gave him 
 spirits and bathed his face and hands in oil. 
 Soon he revived a little. 
 
 "It s Business," he muttered. 
 335 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 In a moment his thoughts began to wander 
 in a curious delirium filled with suggestions of 
 the old cheerfulness. He sang, feebly: 
 
 "The briers are above my head, the brakes above 
 
 my knee, 
 
 An the bark is gettin* kind o blue upon the ven son- 
 tree." 
 
 Rain had begun falling and daylight was on 
 the window-panes. 
 
 The dethroned Emperor continued to sing 
 fragments of old songs so familiar to all who 
 knew him. 
 
 " It was in the summer-time when I sailed, when I 
 sailed," 
 
 he sang. Socky stood by the bed of his uncle 
 with a sad face. 
 
 " Th-thumbs down," Strong demanded, faintly. 
 
 Master went out on the little veranda and 
 looked down the road. He could hear the voice 
 of his friend singing: 
 
 "The green groves are gone from the hills, Maggie." 
 
 "It is true," thought the young man as he 
 looked off at the smouldering woods. "They 
 are gone and so are the green hearts." 
 
 336 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 Annette came presently and Strong rose on 
 his elbow and looked at her. 
 
 "Ann," he called, as she knelt by his bedside. 
 " To -day to-day! It s n-no some day any 
 m-more. It s to-day." 
 
 He sank back on his pillow when he saw her 
 tears, and whispered, almost doubtfully, "Bet 
 ter t-times!" 
 
 He leaned forward and put up his hands as if 
 to relieve the pressure of his pack-straps, and in 
 a moment he had gone out of hearing on a trail 
 that leads to the "better times" he had hoped 
 for, let us try to believe. 
 
 So ends the history of Silas Strong, guide, 
 contriver, lover of the woods and streams, of 
 honor and good-fellowship. He was never to 
 bow his head before the dreaded tyrant of this 
 world. We may be glad of that, and remember 
 gratefully and with renewed thought of our own 
 standing that Strong was ahead. 
 
 A curious procession made its way out of the 
 woods that morning. Socky and Sue walked 
 ahead. Master and Edith and her father fol 
 lowed. Then came the boat-jumper with Sinth 
 and all that remained of Silas Strong in it; 
 then the buckboard that carried Harris and 
 old Mrs. Dunmore and the servants. Slow- 
 
 337 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 ly they made their way towards the sown 
 land. 
 
 "What ye cryin fer?" a stranger asked the 
 children as he passed them. 
 
 "Our Uncle Silas died," was the all-sufficient 
 reply of Socky. 
 
 Soon they could hear the roar of the saws. 
 
 "Look!" said Dunmore to his daughter, as 
 they came in sight of the mill chimney. " There s 
 the edge of the great world." 
 
 He looked thoughtfully at the children a mo 
 ment and added: 
 
 " It all reminds me of the words of a mighty 
 teacher, A little child shall lead them. " 
 
 And what of Migley and the rest? Word of 
 his harshness in driving Sinth and the children 
 out of their home had travelled over the land, 
 and not all the king s money could have saved 
 him. Master went to the Legislature where 
 God prosper him! and the young lumberman 
 was condemned to obscurity. 
 
 Master and Edith live at Clear Lake most 
 of the year, and the cranes have brought them 
 a young fairy regarded by Socky and Sue, who 
 often visit there, with deep interest and affec 
 tion. Sinth will spend the rest of her days, 
 
 338 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 probably, in the home of Gordon at Benson 
 Falls. 
 
 As to Annette, like many daughters of the 
 Puritan, she lives with a memory, and her hope 
 is still and all in that " some day," gone now into 
 the land of faith and mystery. 
 
 The once beautiful valley of Rainbow was 
 turned into black ruins that night of the fire. 
 Soon a "game pirate," who had "blabbed" in a 
 spree, was arrested for the crime of causing it. 
 The authorities promised to let him go if he 
 would tell the truth. He told how he had been 
 with "Red" Macdonald that night and saw him 
 fire the woods. They fled to the shore of Rain 
 bow and crossed in a boat. Near the middle of 
 the lake they broke an oar, and a mile of green 
 tops had begun to "fry" before they landed. 
 They ran eastward in a panic. They crossed 
 Bushrod Creek on a big log that spanned the 
 water. At the farther end of it Macdonald, 
 who was in the lead, put his foot in one bear- 
 trap and fell into another. His friend tried to 
 release him, but soon had to give up and run 
 for his life. 
 
 He went with an officer and found the heap 
 of bones that lay between two rusty traps in 
 the desolate valley. 
 
 339 
 
Silas Strong 
 
 " After all, he got exac ly what was comin to 
 him," said he, looking down at the ghastly thing. 
 " It was him shot the Emp ror o the Woods. " 
 
 Who was to pay Macdonald for his work? 
 That probably will never be known. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE END 
 
 V 
 

 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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 FEB 23 1915 
 
 
 
 
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 OCT 8 19M 
 
 
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 Jill 28 1921 
 
 
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