The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail Part 28

"Mr. Cochrane, tell me," cried Mandy, "who began this?"

"Ask Mr. Thatcher there," replied Mr. Cochrane.

"Who is responsible for this, Mr. Thatcher?" cried Mandy.

"Don't rightly know how the thing started. First thing I knowed they was all at it."

"See here, Thatcher, you might as well own up. I am going to know anyway. Where did the logs come from, for instance?" said Cameron in a determined voice.

"Logs? Guess Bracken knows," replied Cochrane, turning to a tall, lanky rancher who was standing at a little distance.

"Bracken," cried Cameron, striding to him with hand outstretched, "what about the logs for the house? Where did they come from?"

"Well, I dunno. Smith was sayin' somethin' about a bee and gettin' green logs."

"Smith?" cried Cameron, glancing at that individual now busy unhitching the bronchos.

"And of course," continued Bracken, "green logs ain't any use for a real good house, so--and then--well, I happened to have a bunch of logs up the Big Horn. I guess the boys floated 'em down."

"Come away, Mrs. Cameron, and inspect your house," cried a stout, red-faced matron. "I said they ought to await your coming to get your plans, but Mr. Smith said he knew a little about building and that they might as well go on with it. It was getting late in the season, and so they went at it. Come away, we're having a great time over it. Indeed, I think we've enjoyed it more than ever you will."

"But you haven't told us yet who started it," cried Mandy.

"Where did you get the lumber?" said Cameron.

"Well, the lumber," replied Cochrane, "came from the Fort, I guess.

Didn't it, Inspector?"

"Yes," replied the Inspector. "We had no immediate use for it, and Smith told us just how much it would take."

"Smith?" said Cameron again. "h.e.l.lo, Smith!" But Smith was already leading the bronchos away to the stable.

"Yes," continued the Inspector, "and Smith was wondering how a notice could be sent up to the Spruce Creek boys and to Loon Lake, so I sent a man with the word and they brought down the lumber without any trouble.

But," continued the Inspector, "come along, Cameron, let us follow the ladies."

"But this is growing more and more mysterious," protested Cameron. "Can no one tell me how the thing originated? The sash and doors now, where did they come from?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Cochrane. "I was at the Post Office, and, hearin' Smith talkin' 'bout this raisin' bee and how they were stuck for sash and door, so seein' I wasn't goin' to build this fall I told him he might as well have the use of these. My team was laid up and Smith got Jim Bracken to haul 'em down."

"Well, this gets me," said Cameron. "It appears no one started this thing. Everything just happened. Now the shingles, I suppose they just tumbled up into their place there."

"The shingles?" said Cochrane. "I dunno 'bout them. Didn't know there were any in the country."

"Oh, they just got up into place there of themselves I have no doubt,"

said Cameron.

"The shingles? Ah, bay Jove! Rawthah! Funny thing, don't-che-naow,"

chimed in a young fellow attired in rather emphasized cow-boy style, "funny thing! A Johnnie--quite a strangah to me, don't-che-naow, was riding pawst my place lawst week and mentioned about this--ah--raisin'

bee he called it I think, and in fact abaout the blawsted Indian, and the fire, don't-che-naow, and all the rest of it, and how the chaps were all chipping in as he said, logs and lumbah and so fowth. And then, bay Jove, he happened to mention that they were rathah stumped for shingles, don't-che-naow, and, funny thing, there chawnced to be behind my stable a few bunches, and I was awfully glad to tu'n them ovah, and this--eh--pehson--most extraordinary chap I a.s.suah you--got 'em down somehow."

"Who was it inquired?" asked Cameron.

"Don't naow him in the least. But it's the chap that seems to be bossing the job."

"Oh, that's Smith," said Cochrane.

"Smith!" said Cameron, in great surprise. "I don't even know the man. He was good enough to help my wife to beat back the fire. I don't believe I even spoke to him. Who is he anyway?"

"Oh, he's Thatcher's man."

"Yes, but--"

"Come away, Mr. Cameron," cried Mrs. Cochrane from the door of the new house. "Come away in and look at the result of our bee."

"This beats me," said Cameron, obeying the invitation, "but, say, d.i.c.kson, it is mighty good of all these men. I have no claim--"

"Claim?" said Mr. Cochrane. "It might have been any of us. We must stand together in this country, and especially these days, eh, Inspector?

Things are gettin' serious."

The Inspector nodded his head gravely.

"Yes," he said. "But, Mr. Cochrane," he added in a low voice, "it is very necessary that as little as possible should be said about these things just now. No occasion for any excitement or fuss. The quieter things are kept the better."

"All right, Inspector, I understand, but--"

"What do you think of your new house, Mr. Cameron?" cried Mrs. Cochrane.

"Come in. Now what do you think of this for three days' work?"

"Oh, Allan, I have been all through it and it's perfectly wonderful,"

said his wife.

"Oh nothing very wonderful, Mrs. Cameron," said Cochrane, "but it will do for a while."

"Perfectly wonderful in its whole plan, and beautifully complete,"

insisted Mandy. "See, a living-room, a lovely large one, two bedrooms off it, and, look here, cupboards and closets, and a pantry, and--" here she opened the door in the corner--"a perfectly lovely up-stairs! Not to speak of the cook-house out at the back."

"Wonderful is the word," said Cameron, "for why in all the world should these people--?"

"And look, Allan, at Moira! She's just lost in rapture over that fireplace."

"And I don't wonder," said her husband. "It is really fine. Whose idea was it?" he continued, moving toward Moira's side, who was standing before a large fireplace of beautiful masonry set in between the two doors that led to the bedrooms at the far end of the living-room.

"It was Andy Hepburn from Loon Lake that built it," said Mr. Cochrane.

"I wish I could thank him," said Moira fervently.

"Well, there he is outside the window, Miss Moira," said a young fellow who was supposed to be busy putting up a molding round the wainscoting, but who was in reality devoting himself to the young lady at the present moment with open admiration. "Here, Andy," he cried through the window, "you're wanted. Hurry up."

"Oh, don't, Mr. Dent. What will he think?"