Lost Farm Camp Part 15

"Hallo-o-o!" came faintly to him on the wind.

"Hallo-o-o-yerself," he added, in a drowsy whisper. His last round was spent.

David Ross, on his way from Avery's cabin to his own, heard the far-away call. He immediately turned and walked toward the spot where Axel was.

As he drew near he circled about, peering under the bending branches. He looked here and there, holding the lantern high above his head. Nothing answered as he called. Nothing moved. He turned back toward the trail, round which twinkled the lights of Lost Farm Camp. The wind had hushed.

The snow fell lazily. In the silence a rustling caught his ear. Axel, huddled against the cedar trunk, had slipped sideways, his coat sc.r.a.ping against the loose-fibred bark.

David traced the sound to a snowshoe sticking up in the drift beneath the tree. Then a moccasined foot, a red-striped stocking, and finally he was kneeling by the unconscious Barney, shaking him vigorously. The lumberman's eyes slowly opened, then closed again heavily. David placed his lantern in the lee of the cedar and, kicking off one of his own racquettes, belabored Axel with it unsparingly.

Finally, the torpor broke and Axel opened his eyes. "A'right, a'right,"

he muttered. "Git up in a minute-jest a minute-"

In the half-hour it had taken David to reach him, the frost had gripped Axel's blood with clogging fingers that were not to be easily shaken off. Slipping his snowshoe on again, he propped the drowsy figure against the tree and worked himself under the inert shoulders. He reached up and grasped the wide coat-collar, then straightened himself suddenly. He had the lumberman on his back, but could he stagger through that killing half-hour again? Hanging the lantern on a low stub as he stooped beneath the burden of that dead weight on his shoulders, he turned toward the camp, fighting his way first and wondering how he did it afterwards.

Hoss Avery was pouring hot coffee between Axel's blue lips when the latter coughed and his eyes unclosed.

David, holding the lamp above him, stooped nearer. A look of recognition brightened Barney's heavy eyes for a moment.

"Jest-the-man-I'm-lookin'-fur," he whispered. Then he yawned, turned on his side and David thought he heard those grim lips murmur, "Sleep."

CHAPTER XI-THAT GREEN STUFF

RRR-R-UUF! _R-r-r-r-uff!_ Swickey grabbed Smoke's collar and stood astride of him, holding on with both hands. "He ain't goin' to bite-'cause he don't growl when he's goin' to bite."

Barney Axel came from the front room of the cabin, limping a little.

"'Course not! Smoke ain't got nothin' ag'in' me, have you, Smoke?"

The dog had paid little attention to the lumberman during the three days he had been "resting up" at Lost Farm, as Ross and Avery had been in the cabin most of that time; but this morning they were both out, toting in firewood on the hand-sleighs.

"He's jest pertendin'," said Swickey, patting the terrier and encouraging him to make friends with Barney.

But Smoke was inclined to maintain a position of vigilant neutrality.

Somewhere in the back of his head he had recorded that particular man-smell, and he took many uneasy paces between Swickey and Barney, keeping the while a slanted and suggestive gaze on the latter.

"Pop says ever since Injun Pete was killed, they's folks might shoot Smoke."

Axel's pipe didn't draw well. The pine splinter which he thrust in the stove occupied his entire attention.

"Pop says they won't, if he sees 'em fust."

"Reckon that's right," said Barney noncommittally.

"The sheriff was up to see Pop and Dave."

"So?"

"Yip. And Jim Cameron come, too."

"Ain't su'prised at that."

"Smoke he didn't growl at them."

"That dog knows his business," replied Barney.

The conversation lagged. Axel sat smoking, eyes ceilingward and chair tilted at a perilous angle. "Fisty Harrigan give me the dirty end of the stick," he thought. "But I got holt of the stick and Fisty's goin' to git it back ag'in good and plenty. Here I be settin' easy and com'f'table right on the job. Hoss Avery and his partner Ross is plumb square, both of 'em. And the young feller's mighty smart, keepin' the ole man from sellin' even if he don't know they's a fortune of money up there in Timberland, layin' right on the ground waitin' for him to come and find it. And, by gum, he's a-goin' to find it. All bets is off with Denny Harrigan and me. He done me and I'm goin' to do him; and Ross he pulled me out of the snow, dumb near friz, and I reckon when I show him what's over on Timberland, I'll be square with the whole bilin' of 'em.

Then me fur Canady. Them St. John's folks need men. Guess I kin land a job, all right."

Swickey wanted to talk, but Barney's abstraction awed her. She left the room finally, and returned with her "Robinson Crusoe." She sidled up to the lumberman and laid the book on his knee. Still he smoked, apparently oblivious to the girl's presence.

"Barney." The tone was cajoling.

"Wal, sis?"

"Kin you read?"

"Wal, some."

"Pop kin!" This was a challenge.

Barney glanced at the volume. "You want me to read this here?" he said, his chair clumping to the floor.

"Yes."

"Thanks. I _was_ feelin' kind of lonesome."

He studied the first page for a long time. Then he settled back against the wall again, apparently absorbed in the book.

Swickey stood patiently waiting. She shifted from one foot to the other.

_Tick-tack. Tick-tack_. The cabin was silent save for the rhythmic perseverance of the old clock. Smoke lay in front of the stove watching her.

"Barney!"

He glanced up, a surprised expression seaming his forehead.

"Kin you read-so'st I kin hear?"

"Why, sure!"

The suggestion seemed a novel idea to him. He turned back to the first page and began slowly, often pausing to ill.u.s.trate the meaning with colloquialisms that to Swickey were decidedly interesting. He had already read the first page and he intended to make it last as long as possible. He felt fairly safe on the ground he had already covered, but new territory loomed ahead. "Let's see," he said, approximating the p.r.o.nunciation of an unfamiliar word, "c-o-n-v-" but the stamping of feet on the porch saved him.

Avery and Ross entered, ruddy with exercise. Smoke raised his head and dropped it again with a grunt of satisfaction.

"Wal, Barney, how's the feet?" said Avery, drawing off his mittens.