Lost Farm Camp Part 19

"Is it Smoke?" he asked.

She nodded. Yesterday that answer would have sufficed her conscience, but to-day....

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping across the porch and to the path. He had gone as far as the end of the camp when she called.

"D-Dave!"

He came back to her, an amused light in his eyes.

"I lied, I did. 'Tain't Smoke-it's you, too," she cried, the tears welling to her eyes.

"Me?" he exclaimed. Then he understood. "You poor youngster. There, don't cry. I'm coming back and, by crickey! I'll bring Smoke, too, if it's possible." He drew nearer to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"You've got your father, and there isn't a finer man on earth than he.

Besides, I won't be away so very long if I can help it."

But David's words failed to comfort her.

"'Tain't Pop I want," she sobbed, "like I want you."

"But, Swickey-"

She came close, pressing her face against him. Suddenly she flung her arms about his neck, her tempestuous affection striking a thrill through his body as her warmth crept to him. Despite the many interests of his new life, he had been lonely and she brought it home to him in her own abrupt way.

"Why, Swickey, I didn't know you cared so much. Come! I'll promise to come back just as soon as I can, and we'll have some new books, and glorious winter evenings together to read and talk and study."

He drew her hands from his shoulders, and as he did so she threw back her head and half affectionately, half defiantly whispered, "Ain't you goin' to kiss me-jest once-afore you go?"

The appeal of her tearful eyes and upturned, trembling lips, half pouting with a thirst inexplicable to her, found answer as he stooped and kissed her with grave tenderness.

"Good-bye, Swickey. I'm going to-night, if Cameron will take me through to Tramworth. The letter he brought has changed my plans. Of course I'll see you again, but this is our real good-bye, little girl."

"I'm fifteen anyway," she replied, smiling through her tears.

"I'll send you a birthday present when I get home. How would you like a nice, woolly, white mackinaw coat, with little blue squares round the edges? I know where I can get one."

"Oh, heaps!" she exclaimed rapturously. "Will you?"

"As sure as you're Swickey!"

She watched him as he hurried toward the dam where her father and Curious Jim were vehemently discussing the new railroad. Something white lay on the floor at her feet. She picked it up and studied the address on the envelope. It was Bas...o...b..s letter to David. Intending to return it to him when he came back, she placed it on the clock-shelf and busied herself with the daily routine of housekeeping.

Cameron's fist was in the air as David came to where Avery and he stood.

"I seen 'em as plain as I see Dave Ross a-comin'," he a.s.serted.

Avery seemed doubtful.

"A whole line of 'em strung along the river. Then they stopped. Seein'

they was plenty of logs stranded, I clumb across, and sure as shootin', on the other side they commenced ag'in with N. M. & Q. stamped on every ding one of 'em."

"Jim's a-tellin' me them surveyor fellers marked out a new line fur the railrud, crossin' the Branch about five mile below here tow'ds the Knoll!"

David contained his surprise. "Is that so?" he answered easily.

"Sure as hens 'll squawk," said Cameron.

"You're sure it isn't an old survey?"

"They're fresher than them," he replied, kicking a survey stake at his feet.

Ross glanced at Avery, but the old man's gaze was fixed on Cameron's face.

"Why'd you tell me about it, Jim?" he asked abruptly.

Cameron shuffled his feet in the shingle, and pensively bit a chew from his plug. He busied himself adjusting the tobacco satisfactorily, evidently preparing for a long siege.

"M-m-um, well," he began, "thought it might int'rest you if the road was to cross the Branch there, instid of here," emphasizing the location by again kicking the stake. "Probably you know why better than I do. I was jest spec'latin' on that."

"Jim," said Avery, fixing him with a shrewd eye, "whar you been pokin'

round lately?"

Curious Jim shifted from one foot to the other.

"I can smell somethin' comin' plain as burnin' grevvy-"

Cameron grinned in antic.i.p.ation of his hearers' astonishment when he should tell them what _he_ knew.

"When the drive went through last week, I was to Tramworth. You know the back room in Bill Smeaton's harness-shop. Well, I was settin' there, pickin' over some findin's to mend my harness,-Bill havin' gone out on a personal errand,-and somebody comes in, follered by another feller. One of 'em says, 'Hey, Bill!' Seein' as my name's Jim, I jest said nothin'"-a smile twitched Avery's beard-"but set there. Pretty soon the feller what follered the first feller in, says, 'Guess he's gone out fur a drink,' which was c'rrect. Then they sorter hung around fur a minute or two, talkin' about the drive and this here new railroad, and some folks as ain't more'n a mile from here; and then Fisty says, 'Well, Red, Barney's done us on the asbestos and that one-eyed ole'-"

"Go ahead," interrupted Avery, "I been called thet afore now."

"'Has got it comin' his way so fur,'" continued Cameron, "'but the game ain't all played out yet.'"

Curious Jim drew himself up and looked from one to the other of the partners. "That's all-'cept they went out, Fisty and Jim Smeaton, and I climb out of the back window after a spell and waited till Bill Smeaton come back. Then I went in the front ag'in and got what I was after."

"Wal, is thet all?" said Avery.

"All of that," replied Cameron. "Later on I was in the hotel, and when I went out to the stable to hitch up, they was a couple of fellers talkin'

kind of loud in the alley back of the stable. They had liquor in 'em, I reckon. One of 'em says to the other, 'What good is it goin' to do 'em if the railroad don't cross on their land?' Now, that's what set me thinkin' they might be some manuvrin' goin' on what might int'rest you."

"Jim," said Avery, "if what you say is true, you never done a better day's work in your life. We're goin' to need a fust-cla.s.s man with a team when the-when things gits to runnin' right. It'll be stiddy work and good pay. Dave here is goin' to Boston to-morrow to see about it and he'll be wantin' you to take him to the train, I reckon."

"I was," said David, "but all this has changed my plans. I want to go just as quick as I can. Can you take me down to-night?"

"Guess I can make her," replied Curious Jim. "It's goin' to rain afore long," he added, looking at the sky.

"Never mind the rain, Jim. I'll be ready in five minutes," and David hastened toward his cabin.