Grace Harlowe\'s Overland Riders in the Great North Woods
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Jessie Graham Flower >> Grace Harlowe\'s Overland Riders in the Great North Woods
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"I'll bet they were a flock of crows," murmured Hippy.
"Did you see them, darlin'?" begged Nora in an awed tone that brought
smiles to the faces of her companions.
"No. I was not sufficiently in tune with nature to see them, especially
in daylight."
"Good-night!" muttered Hippy Wingate.
"And what do you think the medium also said?" asked Emma.
"Five dollars, please," laughed Grace.
"She did not. All she would consent to take from me was a dollar, and
she said that, if I would come to her twice a week regularly, she would
promise that, in a few weeks, I could see the birds as well as she
could. But I didn't tell you--what the medium said of even greater
importance was that the explanation was that some of my ancestors, far
back in the dim shadows of the early hours of the world, were birds of
the air. Just think of it, girls! Birds! Flying through the air and--"
"Darting yon and hither," finished Hippy.
"_Alors!_ Let's fly," cried Elfreda Briggs amid a shout of laughter from
the Overland Riders.
"So say we all of us," answered Grace, springing up and beginning to
pack away her mess kit. "It will be long after dark before we reach
Bisbee's Corners."
The girls were still laughing as they rode away, Emma Dean silently
resentful, her chin in the air, her face flushed.
"Do you really think she is in earnest about that nature stuff?"
questioned Anne.
"She thinks she is, but of course she isn't. Emma, like many others,
must have a hobby to ride. She, fortunately, is fickle in her hobbies,
and rides one but a short time before she tires of it and casts it
aside. What would we do on these journeys without her?" laughed Grace.
"Yes. Our Emma is a joy and a delight," nodded Anne.
After a brisk ride at a steady gallop, the Overlanders jogged into the
one street that Bisbee's Corners possessed shortly after nine o'clock
that evening, all thoroughly tired but happy, with Hindenburg sound
asleep in the saddle bag.
The streets, they saw, were thronged with men, mostly lumberjacks, some
singing, others shouting, and here and there a pair of them engaged in
fist battles.
"Must have been paid off," observed Tom Gray. "We are getting near the
Big Woods, folks."
"I should say we are," replied Grace, taking in the scene with keen
interest. "I hear a fiddle. There must be a dance going on."
"A dance? Oh, let's go," cried Emma.
"Better listen to the voices of nature," answered Tom laughingly. "A
lumberjack dance is no place for a refined woman, or man either, for
that matter. Where to, Grace?"
"The general store. I'll go in. The girls had better stay on their
horses, for I don't like the looks of things in Bisbee's."
"Lumber-jacks are rough, but let them alone and they will let you
alone," said Lieutenant Wingate.
Tom Gray said this might be true in theory, but that it was not always
true in fact.
Pulling up before the general store, Grace dismounted and elbowed her
way through a crowd of men, smilingly demanding "gangway," which was
readily granted, though accompanied by quite personal remarks about her,
to which, of course, the Overland girl gave not the slightest heed.
"Joe Shafto bought the supplies for you, Mrs. Gray," the owner of the
store informed her after Grace had introduced herself and stated her
mission. "Joe packed the stuff home on the mules and said you'd pay for
it when you come along. That alright?"
"Perfectly so, and thank you ever so much. What is the excitement out
there?" with a nod towards the street.
"Jacks comin' in for the early work in the woods. The foremen are hirin'
'em here and sendin' 'em on to the different camps. The whole bunch is
just spoilin' for fight. Better not stir 'em up unless your crowd is
lookin' for trouble," advised the storekeeper.
"Oh, no. Nothing like that," laughed Grace Harlowe, laying the money for
their supplies on the counter. "Nothing wrong outside, is there, Hippy?"
she asked quickly as the lieutenant came in rather hurriedly.
"No. I'm after candy."
"That is fine. Buying candy for Nora and the girls," glowed Grace. "My
husband seldom thinks to bring me candy, and--"
"For Nora? No. I'm getting the candy for the bronco and the bull
pup--trying to buy my way into their good graces, as it were. Neither
one of them takes to the uproar in the street. The bronc' is threatening
to bolt, and Hindenburg has declared war on the lumberjack tribe
because one of them poked a stick in his ribs just now."
Grace, after thanking the storekeeper for his courtesy, went out
laughing, but the instant she stepped into the street she intuitively
sensed a change in the spirit of the crowd there. The jacks had fallen
silent in comparison with their previous uproarious attitude--sullen and
threatening, it seemed to her.
"What's wrong here, Elfreda?" she asked, stepping up beside Miss Briggs'
pony.
"A jack tried to pull Emma from her horse, probably out of mischief. Tom
jumped his pony over and knocked the fellow down with his fist. Three or
four others started for him. Tom rode one of them down and the others
ran into the crowd for protection. I think we are headed for trouble,"
prophesied J. Elfreda.
"Grace, where is Hippy?" called Tom Gray anxiously.
"In the store buying candy for the pup."
"Stand back, you fellows!" commanded Tom sternly as he discovered that
the jacks were crowding closer and closer to the little group of
horsewomen. "We don't mind sport so far as the men are concerned, but
you must let these young women alone. Hurry, Hippy!" he urged, as
Lieutenant Wingate appeared at the store door.
"Overland!" called Grace, which was the rallying hail of the Overland
Riders, and by which signal Lieutenant Wingate knew that all was not
well with his companions.
Hippy jumped from the store porch and strode to his pony.
"What is it?" he questioned sharply, taking Ginger's rein from Nora and
vaulting into his saddle to the accompaniment of joyous barks from
Hindenburg.
"Reckon these wild jacks are getting ready to rush us. Keep your eyes
peeled," warned Tom Gray.
"Here they come! Look out!" called Grace.
"Let go of my bridle, you ruffian!" they heard Anne Nesbit cry, and as
they looked they saw her bring down her riding crop across the face of a
lumberjack who had grasped her pony's bridle and was trying to separate
the animal from the others of the party.
CHAPTER III
THE CHARGE OF THE JACKS
"Get out of this! Lively!" shouted Tom to the girls.
"Keep together!" added Hippy.
The two men forced their ponies between the girls and the lumberjacks,
the girls using their crops on their ponies and urging them on.
The Overland girls cleared the scene in a few seconds, and halted a
short distance up the street to wait for Hippy and Tom, who were having
difficulty in extricating themselves from the mob. They did not succeed
in doing this until Hippy began to belabor Ginger over the rump, at the
same time pulling up on the reins. This caused the animal to whirl and
buck and kick. Every volley from Ginger's lightning-like kicks put
several members of the mob out of the fight. Tom was using his crop, but
without much effect.
A rough hand was laid on Hippy's leg, and a mighty tug nearly unhorsed
him. It probably would have done so had not Hindenburg at that juncture
taken a bite of the lumberjack's hand and caused the fellow to let go
without delay.
The jacks by this time had begun to fight among themselves. Single and
group fights suddenly sprung up all over the street. The jacks, for the
moment, had lost their interest in the newcomers, and the two Overland
men, taking advantage of the opportunity, galloped down the street,
passing scattered groups of brawlers who were too busy with their own
affairs to heed them.
The Overland men were almost clear of the mob when yells ahead of them
attracted their attention to a fresh disturbance. A man, who, as they
drew near, was seen to be an Indian standing at the side of the road,
taking no part in the disturbance, was the object of the uproar. A crowd
of half a dozen jacks had pounced on the Indian. He went down under the
rush. Hippy saw them grab the fellow and hurl him into the middle of the
street. The Indian was on his feet in an instant, and, from the light
shed through the windows along the street, Hippy saw a knife flash in
the Indian's hand, saw the red man's arm shoot out, and a man fall,
uttering a howl.
The jacks hesitated briefly, then uttering angry yells they hurled
themselves upon the Indian, bore him to the ground, and began to kick at
him with their heavy boots.
Tom turned his pony and rode into the crowd at a gallop. Three
lumberjacks went down under his charge.
"The cowards!" raged Hippy, also charging into the group and completing
what his companion had begun.
"Run, you poor fish!" he yelled at the Indian, who had got to his feet
and stood dazedly gazing at his rescuers. "Run!"
The Indian, suddenly recovering himself, darted between two buildings
and disappeared.
"Good work!" chuckled Hippy, galloping up the street with Tom to join
the girls, who were waiting for them.
"Oh, that was splendid!" cried Anne Nesbit as Tom and Hippy rejoined the
party of Overland girls.
"It won't be splendid unless we step lively," answered Tom.
"Keep going, girls, keep going," urged Hippy.
"I hate to run away, but being a peace-loving person I run away whenever
a fight is suggested to me."
"We know it," observed Emma.
"Thanks! Which way do we go?" questioned Hippy.
"Straight ahead and take the first right-hand turn about a mile from the
village to reach Joe Shafto's place, the storekeeper told me," Grace
informed them.
The party galloped on until they reached the turn indicated by Grace
where they halted and consulted, deciding that the road to the right was
the one they should take. This road, according to Grace's information,
should lead them to Joe Shafto's place, ten or fifteen miles further on,
though it was not their purpose to go on to Joe's that night.
The Overland Riders walked their horses after making the turn, there
being no need for haste, as no one believed that the lumberjacks would
follow, and further, the Overlanders were looking for a suitable camping
place for the night.
"This appears to be a good place to make camp," finally called Tom Gray,
who was riding in the lead of the party. Tom pulled up and looked about
him, the others riding up to him and halting.
"No good!" answered a strange voice.
"What? Who said that?" demanded Hippy.
A man stepped out from the shadow of the trees and stood confronting the
peering Overlanders.
"It's Lo, the poor Indian!" cried Hippy. "Hello, Lo!"
"So it is," agreed Tom. "How did you get here ahead of us?"
"Come 'cross," answered the man, indicating with a gesture that he bad
taken a short cut through the woods, though how he knew where they were
going, unless he had heard their discussion at the point where they took
the right-hand road, the Overlanders could not imagine.
"You say this is 'no good' as a camping place. What is the matter with
it?" demanded Tom Gray, regarding the Indian suspiciously.
"No water. You come, me show."
"Let him lead the way," suggested Elfreda.
"Yes. Give the poor red man a chance," urged Hippy.
The Indian, without asking further permission to lead them, turned and
trotted along ahead at a typical Indian lope, and at a rate of speed
that necessitated putting the ponies at a jog-trot in order to keep him
in view. The Indian proceeded on for fully half a mile, then, turning
sharply to the left, led them on until he reached the bank of a stream,
to which he pointed as indicating their camping place.
The site was hidden from the road by which they had arrived by trees and
a bluff, thus protecting the party from discovery by persons passing
along the road, which they readily understood the Indian had purposely
planned.
"Fine! Fine!" glowed Tom.
"We are much obliged to you, and thank you," added Anne.
"What is your name?" asked Elfreda as the girls began to dismount.
"Willy Horse."
"Ho, ho, ho!" exclaimed Hippy Wingate. "That's a horse of another color.
Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce to you Chief Willy Horse,
and believe me he is some horse to stand the punishment those
lumberjacks gave him and still be able to talk horse sense."
The Overlanders acknowledged the introduction laughingly, and shook
hands with the Indian, at the same time giving him their names.
"Where you go?" demanded the red man, addressing Tom Gray.
"To the Pineries in the north."
"Good! What do?"
"Cruise them, Willy. Do you know what that is?"
The Indian nodded.
"Good! What you do?" he questioned, turning to Lieutenant Wingate.
"Oh, most any old thing, Willy old hoss," answered Hippy jovially. "It
is mostly other persons who do the doing, in my case. They do me
instead."
"Good! You Big Friend--big medicine. You help Willy Horse. Willy not
forget. Mebby kill lumberjacks one day, too."
"Don't get naughty. They hang naughty Indians," reminded Hippy.
"Oh, Mister Pony--I mean Mister Horse--won't you sit down and have a
snack with us?" invited Emma Dean.
"Of course he must," insisted Tom, pausing at his work of starting a
cook fire.
The Indian shook his head.
"Me go," he announced briefly.
"Sorry. Hope we see you again," said Hippy.
"Me see. You Big Friend. Bye," he said, halting before Lieutenant
Wingate. With that he trotted away.
"What a queer character," exclaimed Nora Wingate. "He loves my Hippy,
because my Hippy is a brave man."
"Who runs away to fight another day--not!" added Emma mockingly.
"He must have run very fast to catch up with us," suggested Anne.
"An Indian can outdistance a horse, as horses ordinarily travel,"
answered Tom. "Then, too, he probably knew a shorter cut."
"Did you notice how bruised and swollen his face was, and how
indifferent he appeared to be about it?" questioned Grace solicitously.
"Probably not so indifferent as he seemed to be," laughed Hippy. "You
know an Indian forgets neither a kindness nor a wrong, and you see how
my magnetic personality led this particular Indian to love me."
"All Indians do," observed Emma.
"Let's make camp and eat," urged Anne. "I am nearly famished."
Hippy most heartily approved of Anne's suggestion. Every member of the
outfit assisted in "rustling" the camp and the food. Ginger got a whole
handful of candy for his part in the routing of the lumberjacks, and
Hindenburg also helped himself liberally from the bag when Hippy put it
down on the ground.
While eating their supper the Overlanders talked over their experiences
of the day and the evening. Miss Briggs declared that she would have
been keenly disappointed if something had not occurred to stir them up
at the outset of their journey.
"This getting into difficulties became a habit with this outfit on the
very day that it set sail for France and the great world war," she said.
"I thank my stars that we are going into the woods where peace and the
voices of nature reign supreme," spoke up Emma.
"Sometimes the voices of nature have a savage growl in them," reminded
Tom Gray laughingly. "Who is going to stand guard to-night?"
"No one," answered Grace, nodding to Hippy.
"Righto! The bull pup is the guard for this journey. I brought
Hindenburg along so that I might not lose sleep," answered Hippy, which
stirred the Overland girls to laughter. They had not forgotten that it
was a habit with Hippy Wingate to go to sleep when on guard and leave
the camp unprotected.
All hands being tired and stiff after their long ride, they turned in as
soon as the supper dishes were washed and laid out to dry. Hindenburg
was tied to a tree on a long leash so that he might not stray away, and
the camp quickly settled down to slumber, a slumber that was
uninterrupted until some time after sun-up, when the bull pup awakened
them with his insistent barks. Hindenburg wanted his breakfast.
They took their time in breakfasting, knowing that nothing was to be
gained by haste in view of the fact that Joe Shafto would be engaged in
ironing the family wash, and that they probably would not get started on
their journey to the Big North Woods before the following day.
Stiffness of joints from the previous day's ride was soon forgotten in
the crisp morning air and the flame of color of the foliage, for they
were now entering a scattering growth of forest. As they progressed,
however, the trees were of larger and sturdier growth and the road
became merely a wagon trail leading to the northward.
Luncheon was eaten by the roadside and the journey resumed immediately
afterwards. An hour later they came upon a clearing of about an acre,
with a small space occupied by a garden in which stood a log cabin of
comfortable dimensions.
"Grace, is this the place?" called Tom Gray as they slowed down.
"I don't know, but it seems to answer the description."
"Anybody living up here would need to be a guide or he never would be
able to find his way home," declared Lieutenant Wingate.
"Hoo--oo!" hailed Emma.
After a few moments of waiting the Overlanders were gratified to see the
cabin door open and a woman step out, shading her eyes with a hand. She
was tall, thin and angular, the thinness of her face accentuated by a
pair of big horn-rimmed spectacles through which she glared at the
newcomers.
"Who be ye?" demanded the woman in a rasping voice.
"We are the Overland Riders, and we are looking for Joe Shafto's place,"
answered Grace pleasantly.
"I reckon ye ain't lookin' very hard," snapped back the woman.
"Is this Joe's place?" interjected Tom Gray.
"It be, I reckon."
"Is Joe at home? I am Tom Gray. I arranged to have him act as our
guide."
"I reckon he is."
Tom dismounted and led his pony to the gate, irritated at the woman's
abrupt manner and speech, but this feeling was not shared by the others
of his party who were greatly amused at the brief dialogue.
"I say, I am Tom Gray. May I see Joe?"
"I reckon ye kin if ye've got eyes."
"Then please ask him to step out. Or shall I go in?"
"Yer lookin' at Joe Shafto. If ye don't like the looks of me look
t'other way!" she fairly flung at him.
"You don't understand, Madam. We engaged Joe Shafto, a man, to guide us
through the North Woods and--"
"I tell ye I'm the party, and I'm man enough for any bunch of
rough-necks in the timber," retorted the woman.
"A woman guide! Good night!" muttered Hippy Wingate under his breath.
CHAPTER IV
A HUMAN TALKING MACHINE
"Of course, of course. I--I--well, I'll talk to my friends about it,"
answered Tom lamely. He was flustrated and flushed, greatly to the
enjoyment of the Overland girls.
"That's all right, Tom," soothed Grace. "I am positive that Miss
Shafto--"
"Mrs. Shafto," corrected the woman. "Mrs. Joe Shafto. Git the handle
right."
"I am positive that Mrs. Shafto will answer our purpose very nicely,"
finished Grace.
"Yes, yes. I--I agree with you," mumbled Tom. "If you have time, or when
you do have time, we shall have to talk over our plans with you and--"
"Ain't got no time for nothin' to-day. Had yer dinners?"
"We had luncheon on the way," replied Grace.
"Lucky for ye. I'll go work at the ironin'; then I've got to clean
house. Mebby then I'll talk to ye."
Joe stamped back into the house, slamming the door behind her, and the
Overland Riders lost themselves in gales of laughter, galloping their
horses on beyond the house so that Joe might not hear. Tom followed
along slowly, considerably crestfallen.
"Tom Gray, you surely have distinguished yourself," declared Anne
Nesbit.
"My Hippy couldn't have done worse," added Nora.
"It gives me a pain in my back just to look at her," averred Elfroda.
"Listening to her is worse."
"I shan't listen at all. Thank goodness I have the voices of nature to
listen to," observed Emma.
"Girls, I admit that I have made a mess of it. I suppose we can go on
without a guide, but really it is not wise for you girls, inexperienced
as you are in woodcraft, to venture into the Big Woods."
"I do not agree with you folks," interjected Grace. "That woman is
sharp-tongued, but she is a sturdy and dependable character. It is my
opinion that we might have done a great deal worse in selecting a
guide. Let's go back to the house, make camp nearby, and wait until the
sturdy warrior is ready for us. She will be out again to talk to us soon
enough, if I am a judge of human nature."
The Overlanders acted upon the suggestion and pitched their little tents
among the trees across the trail from Joe Shafto's home. While they were
thus engaged Joe came over and watched the operations, but without
uttering a word until the camp was made and a little cook fire started
for a cup of afternoon tea.
"What's that for?" she demanded, pointing to the fire.
"Afternoon tea now, and to cook our supper on later," answered Grace.
"Yer all goin' to eat supper with me."
The girls protested, but Joe, when once she had made an assertion, would
brook no opposition.
"Six o'clock; no earlier, no later. To-morrow mornin' we start at four
o'clock. I've got all yer fodder, which-all I'll carry on June and July.
Them's my pack mules. Work singly or in pairs. Kin kick like all
possessed. No great scratch whether there's anythin' to kick at or not,
but they know better'n to kick me, though they ain't no love for Henry,
and he gives them heels plenty of room, 'cept one time when he forgot
hisself and got kicked clear out into the road, and nigh into kingdom
come, and I'll bet the pair of 'em that ye folks ain't got a hoss in the
outfit, not even that bronco with the glassy eye, that kin kick once to
June or July's twenty kicks, and, if you don't believe it, just heave a
tin can at one or t'other of 'em and see if ye can count the kicks, but
keep the road between ye and the kicks or I shan't be responsible for
what happens to ye, because I know them mules and I know what they can
do, and then agin--"
"Oh, help!" wailed Emma.
"The voice of nature," chuckled Hippy. "And to think we've got to listen
to it for weeks to come."
"What's that ye say?" demanded Joe.
"I--I think I was thinking out loud. I didn't mean to say anything.
Honest to goodness I didn't," apologized Hippy lamely.
Joe fixed him with threatening eyes, then launched into another
monologue on mules, which wound up with some remarks on lumberjacks,
and a leaf from her family history.
The Overland Riders learned that Joe's husband, who was a timber
cruiser, had been killed by lumberjacks, and that she was the sworn
enemy of every man who wore a Mackinaw coat and worked in the woods.
"Since my man's death I've been livin' up here in the woods, guidin'
huntin' parties, makin' an honest livin' and layin' for the men who
killed my man. I'll find 'em yet. Now who be ye all? I hain't had no
interduction except as Mister Gray interduced himself to me, and--"
"This is my wife, Grace Harlowe Gray," said Tom.
The forest woman shook hands and glared into Grace's smiling eyes.
"Glad to meet ye, Miss Gray. Ye look like one of them boudwarriors that
I seen pictures of in the high saciety papers."
"Miss Emma Dean," announced Tom, pointing to Emma.
"Glad to meet ye." Joe gave Emma a searching look. "Pert as a bird,
ain't ye?"
"Some of my ancestors, I have reason to believe, were birds, and it is
quite possible that I have inherited some of their traits," answered
Emma airily.
"Sparrows! No good. Don't git swelled up over some of yer folks wearin'
feathers. The kind ye belong to they shoot on sight. And now who be
_ye_?" demanded the woman, stepping up to the dignified J. Elfreda
Briggs.
Elfreda introduced herself.
"Glad to meet ye. Yer quite set up, but I guess ye might come down a peg
after ye git acquainted."
Nora Wingate and Anne Nesbit then introduced themselves, and Joe was
"glad to meet" them, but she forgot to address personal remarks to them,
for her eyes, glaring through the big spectacles, were fixed on Hippy
Wingate's grinning face. All this was "a powerful good joke to him," as
Emma confided to Grace in a loud whisper.
Joe strode over to Hippy and peered down into his face as he sat playing
with Hindenburg.
"I reckon some of yer ancestors must been monkeys, judgin' from that
monkey-grin on yer face. What's yer name?"
Hippy told her, adding that he had been a flying ace in the world war,
which announcement he made pompously.
"Glad to meet ye, Lieutenant; but look smart that ye don't try any of
yer flytricks on Joe Shafto. Six o'clock, folks. Remember!" was Joe's
parting word as she strode swiftly from their camp, screwing up her face
into a long-drawn wink as she passed Grace Harlowe. In that wink Grace
read what she had been searching for. Joe Shafto was human and a
humorist, crude, but with a keen mind and a love for banter that
promised much enjoyment for the Overland Riders.
"I wonder who is the Henry that she mentioned?" reflected Grace out
loud.
"Perhaps Henry may be a tame goose. Think of 'June' and 'July' as names
for mules," chortled Hippy. "Oh, we're going to have a merry, merry time
this coming two months--especially Hindenburg and myself."
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