Lost Farm Camp Part 39

"_I_ didn't want it. You may claim it yourself if you want to."

"But _she_ don't know what' Cyclops' means, Davy. Great Caesar! I'm a goner if she does."

"Swickey has been going to school for two years, Wallie, and she isn't slow. You can never tell."

"Oh, well, I've got to square myself with Avery anyway. He's had it in for me ever since I desecrated his Eden with survey-stakes. Speaking of stakes, did you notice the N. M. & Q. iron was laid up to the creek below Jim Cameron's?"

"No, I didn't. I was thinking of something else."

"Asbestos?"

"Yes. Livingstone and the committee will be up here in a few days and I was wondering what we-that is, where we could put them if they stay overnight."

"Oh, Livy's a good sort-about as good a mining expert as there is east of the Rockies, and that's going some. They're satisfied with his report (you know I had him up here the first year I was in-before you came), but I think they want an excuse to annex a private car and take a joy-ride. Say, can't I help you tidy up a bit, or something?"

"No, you sit still and talk. I'll get the bunks straightened out in a minute."

"All right, Mary. Don't forget to sweep under the bed."

"For that impertinence you may go over and get an armful of wood. I'm hungry-and you'll have to eat my cooking. That's my revenge."

"I'll annex the wood-pile-but your cooking-I don't know. Here, where are _you_ going?"

"Over to the house to borrow a few groceries to feed you. Come on."

Wallie seemed in no hurry to be up and doing.

"No, I'll interview the wood-pile."

He glanced at his muddy clothes. David laughed.

"'Tis not alone my inky cloak-there are other reasons," said Bas...o...b.. with mock-seriousness. "And by heck! here comes one of them like Ulysses on the home stretch. Well, Davy, when you write, tell them I died a hero."

As Avery, coming up the slope, saw the figures near David's cabin, his grim features lightened.

"The boy's back ag'in," he exclaimed, quickening his pace. "And the surveyor feller, too, I take it."

They went to meet him as he hurried up the hill.

"Wal, how be you, Dave? I'm a'mighty glad to see you ag'in." His fist closed over David's fingers vigorously.

"First rate, Avery. You've met Mr. Bas...o...b.."

"Ya-a-s," replied the old man, shaking hands with Wallie, "I have.

Dave's been tellin' me how you jined forces-goin' to dig asbestos t'gither. Wal, they's plenty of it to dig."

"And how have you been?" asked David.

"Oh, middlin'-fur a Cyclocks,"-he glanced shrewdly at Bas...o...b..-"whatever thet be."

Wallie flushed despite himself. He hesitated, and then, glancing at David, stepped up to Avery.

"See here, Mr. Avery, I know all about that letter having been lost and found by your daughter. I didn't suppose you would ever see it, and I beg your pardon."

"Ya-a-s," replied Avery noncommittally.

Bas...o...b.. taken aback by Avery's cool acceptance of his apology, was tempted to let the matter drop right there; but the simple dignity of the old man, as he stood silently before them, awoke an impulse that he hastened to express.

"I want to apologize to your daughter also."

"Say nothin' more about it," interrupted Avery. "Mebby I be a Cyclocks, but seein' as I ain't eddicated up to knowin' it, it don't bother me none. Howcome I ain't speakin' fur Swickey. She's been goin' to school."

Avery's shoulders straightened perceptibly.

As they walked toward the camp, Avery asked them if Swickey had told them of the catastrophe in the gorge. "Swickey never said much, but I reckon she sot some store by Joe. He would 'a' crawled from here to Tramworth fur her-and he went down a'tween them h.e.l.l-grindin' logs like a feller goin' to a dance. Wal, 't ain't the fust time I've seen 'em go.-You're comin' in to eat, ain't you?" he asked, as David said something about borrowing some bacon and flour.

"Thanks, but we'll have supper in my cabin to-night."

"Can't see no sense in thet. Swickey's got 'most everything ready. You jest come in and feel to home."

David glanced at Bas...o...b.. "We'll manage to-night, anyway."

He caught the glance of quick approval in Swickey's eyes, and after some joking about running two establishments to feed five people, he borrowed what he needed for supper and followed Bas...o...b..to his own cabin, where they cooked and ate a meal that "escaped criticism merely because there wasn't enough of it to criticize," as Wallie remarked, with an omnivorous eye on the thirteenth and last biscuit.

CHAPTER XXVII-"I WANT DAVE"

The rear of the drive had pa.s.sed, leaving in its wake the blackened circle of the w.a.n.gan fire, a few empty tin cans, one or two broken pike-poles, an old pair of shoes with calks worn to blunt and useless stubs, discarded and gloomy socks, and a wrinkled and tattered oilskin; an agglomeration eloquent of the haste and waste of the drive, which was worming its tedious way through the deadwater of the thoroughfare some twelve miles below.

Walter Bas...o...b.. thumbs in his belt, sauntered down to the river with David and stood idly looking at the pool below the dam. "I've just had breakfast, but that trout makes me hungry," he said, pointing to a rippling circle that widened and smoothed out in the breadth of the brown water.

"Hungry?" said David.

"Not to eat 'em, but to catch 'em. Let's go fishing, Davy. Now that Livy's gone and the committee has fled, loaded to the scuppers with asbestos samples and Livy's pow-wow (had to laugh when he told 'em there was enough Salamander's wool in sight to ballast a four-track road from here to Ungava), it's about time we had a little fun. Taking a lot of high-brows fishing isn't fun, but that was a brilliant idea of yours, that fishing-party. Kept 'em happy. Asbestos! Huh! They spent just one day crawling over the rocks and looking wise while Livy mesmerized 'em, and four days catching trout. But that's always the way. Take an 'investigating committee' into the woods and let some one say 'fish' and it's all off except the sunburn. I've got a cramp in my intellect playing bridge and another in my elbow from pulling corks. _I_ didn't have time to fish, and now I'm going to."

"All right, Walt. We'll take a day off. You seem to be in Swickey's good graces these days-just run up to the camp and ask her to put up a lunch.

It's half-past nine now, and I'll get the rods. Perhaps she'd like to come, too."

Bas...o...b..raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?" said David. "We're not in Boston."

"Quite correct, Plato. I'll ask her."

David went to his cabin and rummaged among his things. "Walt is getting on with Swickey, and I'm glad. The old man seems to have taken a fancy to him, too;-where in the d.i.c.kens did I put that reel? Oh, here it is!-and she's changed completely toward him. Talks and jokes-"