Grace Harlowe\'s Overland Riders in the Great North Woods

J >> Jessie Graham Flower >> Grace Harlowe\'s Overland Riders in the Great North Woods

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"Well?" demanded Hippy finally. "Speak up! How about it, Tom?"

"Hippy, you have looked upon the finest plot of virgin timber to be
found anywhere outside the states of Oregon and Washington. I wish
someone would buy it and beat those pirates out. It is a burning shame
to let them get away with it."

"Where would one have to go to find out about it?"

"St. Paul, possibly. Why?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," answered Lieutenant Wingate
thoughtfully.

Hippy asked who owned the timber adjoining the section, but Tom did not
know that any individual owned it because the map showed that it was
still a part of the state forest reserve.

"You see these maps were issued some months ago, and many changes may
have taken place in that time, though they are really supposed to be up
to date."

"Is Willy likely to be up here to-day, Tom?"

"No. I asked him to keep within easy reach of the Overland camp at night
while we are away."

Willy, being a man of his word, guarded the Overland camp jealously for
two nights, but on the morning of the next day, just before daybreak, he
started to go upstream and look for the two absent men, his
understanding being that they were to be away but one night. He was
hiking along the river bank when Hippy, who had remained with the horses
while his companion went into the forest for a final brief survey before
starting for home, discovered the Indian who hailed him.

"How do?" greeted the Indian.

"Nothing wrong at camp, is there?" questioned the Overland Rider
anxiously.

"No. Me come see where Big Friends go."

"That is fine. You are just the man I wish to see. Who cut off this
timber, Willy?" indicating the cutting that he and Tom had first
discovered.

"Not know. Somebody steal um."

"That is what Captain Gray says. Perhaps it was cut by a new
owner--someone who has bought this plot, Willy."

The Indian, gazing on the stumps in the clearing with expressionless
eyes, shook his head slowly.

"This section belongs to the state, I think," ventured Hippy.

"No belong state."

"Who, then?"

"Belong Chief Iron-Toe. Him Chippewa chief--Big Chief."

Lieutenant Wingate became instantly alert.

"Are you positive of that, Willy?"

The Indian nodded.

"Do you know the gentleman with the iron toe?"

"Him my father."

Hippy was a little taken back by the answer, but his eagerness for more
information overcame what might have become embarrassment.

"Your father! Do you think he would sell the section?" he asked eagerly.

"No sell."

"But I wish to buy it, Willy."

"You buy?" questioned the Indian, regarding Lieutenant Wingate
thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"You Big Friend. Me fix."

"Do you mean it?"

"Me fix."

"Good. When?"

"Next sun-up. We go Chippewa Reservation."

"How far?"

"Two sun ride."

"Say nothing to anyone about this. I'll say whatever is necessary to my
friends. You wake me when you think best to start for the Chippewa
Reservation to-morrow morning and we will be off. Want a horse, Willy?"

"Me take pony."

It was settled, and on the way back to the camp of the Overlanders
during that afternoon Hippy confided his plan to Tom Gray, but Tom was
doubtful of its success. He said he already knew what Hippy had had in
mind, and that if he were able to buy the section for anything within
reason there would be a fortune in it.

"Will you go in on the deal with me?" asked Hippy.

"Yes, if you keep within my resources. Thanks to you for letting me in
on your coal land deal in Kentucky I have some funds that I can use.
That was like giving the money to me, and I have been ashamed of myself
ever since for letting you drag me into any such deal."

"Chop it, Tom. As Willy would say, 'You Big Friend.' Say nothing to any
of the folks, unless you wish to confide in Grace. I shall, of course,
tell Nora where I am going and why."

During the rest of the journey back to the Overland camp, the two men
discussed the plan of action that Hippy should follow--provided he got
the timber plot--the hiring of men and the purchase of equipment, and,
by the time they had reached the Overland camp, all details were
settled. Nothing was said to either Grace or Nora until that evening,
when the two Overland men confided their plans to their wives.

Next morning, before the camp was astir, the Indian had awakened
Lieutenant Wingate and the man and the Indian had ridden away in the
dark of the early morning.

CHAPTER XIX

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL

"What ye moonin' 'bout?" demanded Joe Shafto, giving Nora Wingate a prod
with a long bony finger.

"I am worrying about Mr. Wingate, Mrs. Shafto. He was to have been back
in two days, and here it is nearly two weeks since he and the Indian
went away."

"Indians is all varmints, anyway, but don't ye worry 'bout that man of
yers. Ain't worth it. None of 'em is."

"Don't you say that about my Hippy," rebuked Nora indignantly. "I love
my husband, just as you loved yours."

The forest woman laughed harshly.

"Ain't no such thing as love. A man's just a man, kind of handy to do
the chores and bring home the venison. Henry's worth a whole pack of
husbands, and I kin wallop Henry when he don't mind. Best thing 'bout
Henry is that he can't jaw back at me."

"He can growl at you, can't he?" returned Nora, laughing in spite of her
worry.

"He kin, and he kin git a clip on the jaw, like I give my man once. No,
sir. Bears is better company than is men. I know for I've tried 'em
both. Take my advice and when ye wants to git another husband, jest git
a bear instead."

"But bears are beasts," laughed Grace, who had joined the two in time to
hear Mrs. Shafto's advice.

"So's men. Bears growl--so does men. Mules kick, like June and July--so
does men. Animiles live for nothin' but to git fed and sleep. So does
men. What's the difference?"

The girls laughed heartily.

"Your logic is excellent, but your philosophy is not sound," replied
Grace. "There is such a thing as companionship and helpfulness, and the
finer things of human association."

The forest woman sniffed.

"Ain't no such thing," she retorted. Joe stalked away to attend to her
duties, and in a few moments the Overland girls heard her berating the
bear.

Tom Gray, during the period of Lieutenant Wingate's absence, had made
frequent trips to the section that Hippy wished to buy, and now knew to
a certainty that it was a prize plot of timber. Tom was in the Overland
camp on this particular day, mapping out the timber tract in detail,
though with little idea that it could be purchased at a price within
their means. He was at work on the map when he heard Hindenburg barking
excitedly.

"Something unusual must be on to make the bull pup raise such a
disturbance," muttered Tom, tossing his map aside and crawling from the
tepee.

He saw Nora was running, crying out that Hippy had returned.

"Hooray! Meet me with food!" shouted Hippy. "I've been living on iron
rations for two days because bears ate up our fresh stuff and tried to
eat the mess kits too. Hulloa, Tom!"

"What luck?" asked Tom, after shaking hands.

"The best. We have met the enemy and he's 'ourn,' as Mother Shafto would
say. Don't ask me a question until my stomach begins to function."

A luncheon was quickly prepared, and Hippy had plenty of attention, all
the girls standing about while he ate, ready hands passing food until
Hippy could eat no more.

"Where's that pesky Indian?" demanded the guide, frowning.

"He is coming along with a bunch of men and supplies to show them the
way to our claim. Twenty jacks, a cook and a fiddler will be here late
this afternoon, together with a knock-down bunk-house, sufficient food
supplies for two weeks, tools, and I've got a supply of cash to pay the
hands. Now what have you to say for yourself, Tom Gray?"

"I was waiting to inquire what sort of a deal you made."

"Say, folks! Had it not been for Willy Horse I should not have got the
property at all. That chief with the iron toes is a shrewd old duffer.
He has owned the property for some years, and all that time the Hiram
Dusenbery Company has been trying, by fair means or otherwise, to buy it
of him, but Old Iron-Toe put the price so high that they preferred to
wait, hoping that when he got hard up he might be willing to sell for
less."

"Did he know that timber-thieves had been helping themselves to trees?"
questioned Elfreda.

"No. Willy told him. Willy saw the chief first and the deal really was
made before I even saw the old fellow. Well, we smoked a pipe of peace
together and he didn't say a word for a whole hour after I was
introduced. Finally he grunted:

"'You Big Friend Willy Horse. Big Friend me, too. What you give?'

"I told him to make his own price and I would consider it--that I wished
to take no advantage, nor did I desire to pay a price that would not
leave me a profit. Well, we sat and the chief smoked for another hour.

"'You give ten thousand money. You give one-eighth what you make to
Chief Iron-Toe. You Big Friend.'

"'It's a bargain!' I said, just like that. Old Iron-Toe handed me his
pipe again. I took another pull at it. Bah! It was awful. It nearly
strangled me, but it sealed the compact. We went to the county seat
where the property was transferred to Wingate & Gray and the deed filed,
after which I gave him my check for ten thousand dollars."

Tom, who had been doing some rapid figuring while Lieutenant Wingate was
speaking, glanced up, smiling.

"I don't know how you did it, but you have a wonderful bargain. There is
a fortune in those trees."

"I didn't do it at all. Willy Horse did it, and he is going to have the
best job that can be dug up for him, provided my influence has weight
with the firm of Wingate & Gray. Tom, it's up to you, now. You are the
brains of this establishment. Go to it. I've done my share so far as it
has gone."

"You have, indeed. How is the equipment being brought in?"

"By mule teams. I reckon, too, that they will have a fine tune getting
in here on the trail that leads to the Dusenbery Company's works above
our section and--"

"I say, Mister Lieutenant, do I understand ye to say that a pa'cel of
lumberjacks is comin' here?" interrupted Joe Shafto.

"Yes."

"Then I quits right now. Don't want no truck with them critters."

"That's all right, old dear. You just keep right on with the outfit, and
if a lumberjack so much as looks at you, set the bear on him. I know
what Henry can do in that direction, having had a run-in with him
myself."

"Don't ye 'old-dear' me!" growled Joe. "Started that agin, have ye? Miss
Wingate, if ye don't tame that husband of yers with a club, I will." Joe
winked at Nora as she said it.

"Leave him to me, Mrs. Shafto. Hippy, go wash your face. You are a
perfect sight. I'm positively ashamed of you."

"That's all right, Nora. That relieves me of the necessity of being
ashamed of myself. Joe, you merely imagine that you dislike lumberjacks.
There are some good fellows among them. They aren't all so bad as you
paint them," said Hippy soothingly.

The forest woman flared up.

"I hate the whole pack and pa'cel of 'em! I-hate 'em wuss'n a scalded
pup hates vinegar on his back. I'll stay, of course, but I'll sick Henry
on 'em if they bothers me; then I'll turn my back and fergit that
Henry's chawin' up a human bein'. So there!"

The Overland girls laughed merrily, and Grace linking an arm into the
guide's led her down to the river where the two sat down, Grace to give
Joe Shafto friendly advice, and Joe to accept it as she would from no
other member of the Overland Riders.

In the meantime Tom and Hippy were discussing their plans. They spent a
good part of the day doing so. After dinner Grace and Elfreda paddled up
the river in the bark canoe, returning just before suppertime, faces
flushed from their exercise, and eyes sparkling.

Early next morning Willy Horse and the advance guard of the timber
outfit arrived on the scene, as was evidenced by sundry shouts up-river.
Tom and Hippy hurried upstream to meet the party, and later in the day
the Overland girls came up to watch the work already in progress. A
knock-down bunk-house was rapidly going up, and the cook with pots and
kettles over a brisk fire in the open was preparing supper for the
lumberjacks.

The jacks were a hardy two-fisted lot of men, Swedes, Norwegians, French
Canadians, half-breeds and a few sturdy Americans, though the latter
were greatly outnumbered. Tom was bossing the gang and doing it like a
man who had handled lumberjacks before.

"Why so rough with them?" remonstrated Grace.

"Because I know the breed. Be easy with jacks and they think you are
afraid of them, and will promptly take advantage of you. One must, not
for a moment, let them feel that he is not master of the situation and
of them. You will discover that sooner or later."

By night the bunk-house was ready for occupancy, though the bunks were
not yet in place and the men would be obliged to sleep on the floor for
one night at least. After a hearty supper, well cooked under the
observant eyes of Tom Gray, the lumberjacks retired to their shack, and
the sound of the fiddle and the shuffle of dancing feet, accompanied by
shouts and yells, rose from the bunk-house, which was located near
enough to the Overland Riders' camp to enable them to hear, and to see,
if they wished, what was going on.

Willy Horse was the guest of the Overlanders, though he refused to eat
with them, and sat all the evening by the fire saying never a word,
which is the Indian's idea of friendly conversation.

On the following day, under Tom Gray's supervision, the construction of
the dam for the new owners was begun across a narrow part of the river,
a little upstream from the Overland camp. In order to lower the water in
the river while they were driving the spiles, Tom had the men put the
gates in place in the dam built further up the stream by the
timber-pirates. This, in the low condition of the river, would keep the
water back for several days and give Tom's men a better opportunity to
build his dam.

Henry had made several cautious visits to the scene of operations, which
he viewed from the high branches of a tall pine, and, upon descending,
soundly boxed the ears of a lumberjack who attempted to make friends
with him.

"Tom," said Grace one evening after a few hours spent by her watching
the work, "who is the short, thick-set lumberjack with the red hair?"

"The one with the peculiar squint in his eye?"

"Yes. That is the man."

"The men call him Spike. I don't know what the rest of the name is.
Why?"

"I don't like his looks. Then again there is something about him that
reminds me of someone that I have seen--I mean in unpleasant
circumstances."

"I fear our guide has prejudiced you against lumberjacks, and I know
that she has taught Henry to hate the whole tribe. One shouldn't look
for drawing-room manners in a lumberjack. We have a loyal gang of men,
men who will fight for us, if necessary, and who certainly can work.
That, it appears to me, is the answer."

"Very well. I shall keep my eye on him, just the same. Hark! I thought I
heard someone coming."

Tom and Grace were sitting by the campfire. The others of their party,
with the exception of Mrs. Shafto and the bear, were listening to the
fiddle and the thudding of the hob-nail boots of the lumberjacks as
they danced away the early hours of the evening.

"Never mind. The pup will take notice."

"The only thing the pup takes notice of is, as Emma Dean says, food!"
laughed Grace. "Someone _is_ coming, Tom."

"Hindenburg!" commanded Tom Gray sharply.

The bull pup, sleeping by the fire, roused himself, wiggled his stubbed
tail, and, rolling over on his side, yawned and promptly went to sleep
again. Tom Gray glanced quickly towards the shadows that lay to the rear
of them, and, as he did so, a figure appeared.

"Willy, is that you?" he demanded, as a familiar movement revealed the
identity of the figure.

"Yes."

Grace asked the Indian where he had been. He mumbled an unintelligible
reply, then turned to Tom.

"Two men come. They watch shack. Me want to shoot, but not do."

"Certainly not," rebuked Tom. "What do you think they want?"

"Come spy on camp. I spy on them. Fix guns and creep up. Look in windows
and whisper. Bah! No good. What do?"

"Have they rifles? Perhaps they are hunters," suggested Tom.

"No hunt. Me watch." Willy Horse melted into the shadows.

"Who can it be?" wondered Grace.

"Hunters, of course. Willy Horse's zeal has run away with his judgment.
I think--" Tom paused. Protesting voices were heard back in the forest,
voices raised in angry resentment. Two men suddenly burst out into the
light of the campfire, followed by Willy Horse close at their heels, his
rifle pressed against the back of a panting man.

CHAPTER XX

PEACE OR WAR?

"Here, here! What's this?" demanded Tom Gray, springing up. "Willy!"

"This is an outrage!" panted the man against whose back Willy Horse held
the rifle. The stranger's red hair fairly bristled as he cautiously
removed his hat and mopped the perspiration from face and forehead.
"I'll have the law on you, you low-down redskin!"

"Easy there, pardner. This Indian is not low-down," retorted Tom Gray in
a warning tone. "Willy is our friend. What is it you wish, sir?"

"Am I on the section recently purchased by Wingate & Gray?"

"You are, sir. I am Tom Gray. Mr. Wingate will be here shortly. Won't
you sit down?" urged Tom. "That is all right, Willy. Please ask
Lieutenant Wingate to come here," he added, nodding and smiling to the
Indian, who backed away into the shadows.

"I am Chet Ainsworth, timber agent," said the stranger. "This is my
guide, Tobe Skinner. I'm here to talk a little business with you. Tobe
thought he knew the way, but we got a thousand miles out of it. While we
were trying to decide whether this was a lumber camp or a state's prison
colony that Indian ruffian got the drop on us and drove us in. Tobe
would have shot him on the spot if the Indian hadn't beat him to it by
getting the drop on him. I'll see the Indian agent 'bout that when I go
back. I'll--"

"Hippy!" called Tom as he saw Lieutenant Wingate and others of the
Overland outfit strolling towards camp. "Meet Mr. Ainsworth, and his
guide, Mr. Skinner. They are here on a business matter, the nature of
which I do not know. We are ready to hear what you have to say, Mr.
Ainsworth."

Grace rose and said she would have Mrs. Shafto prepare food for the two
men.

"I'm ready to hear the story, Ainsworth," announced Hippy, nodding.

"Are you the party that bought Section Seventy-two, Mr. Wingate?" asked
Ainsworth.

Hippy nodded.

"Without wishin' to be personal, may I ask what you paid for it?"

"You have my permission to ask anything you wish. I reserve the right to
answer or not. The answer is _not_! in this instance," replied Hippy.

"No offense, no offense," answered the agent, assuming a jovial tone. "I
represent certain interests that have been negotiating for this very
property, parties that already have large holdings in this vicinity, and
who wish an uninterrupted stretch of timber and river to the lakes."

"Yes?" questioned Hippy.

"Of course they knew you bought on speculation, because you ain't
lumbermen, and they reckoned they'd buy it from you so as to give you a
fine profit on your investment. That's why I asked you what you paid for
the property."

"Yes?" repeated Hippy.

"No man can say that ain't a fair offer. Now we'll get right down to
business, Mister--Mister--"

"Wingate," assisted Tom.

"We'll get right down to business, Mr. Wingate. You will sell?"

"Sure thing. I'll sell anything I have except my wife and the bull pup."

"Good! I reckoned that was about the size of it," chuckled Ainsworth,
passing a hand across his face to hide his expression of satisfaction.
"What's your figger?"

"Half a million."

"Feet?"

"No. Dollars."

"Are you crazy?"

"Yes."

"Ha, ha! I see. You're one of those funny fellows," laughed the agent.
"That's all right, Pard. Have your little joke, and now let's get down
to business. What'll ye take cash down, balance ninety days, for the
section?"

"Half a million. What will you give?"

"Twenty-five thousand," answered the agent quickly.

"The deal is off," said Hippy, rising.

"Wait a minute! You're too confounded sudden. I want to argue the
question," urged the visitor.

"No. You have made your offer; I have made my offer. The subject is
closed. Come, have a snack. I see the girls have it ready for you, and
let's talk about the weather. I think it is going to snow."

Tom, though he had with difficulty repressed his laughter, offered their
guests every attention, and so did the Overland girls, but the subject
of the sale of the claim was not again referred to that evening, except
just before bedtime. None of the girls was favorably impressed with
either Mr. Ainsworth or his guide, and during the meal the forest woman
glared threateningly at the pair through her big spectacles. Near its
close, the visitors got a shock that nearly frightened Chet Ainsworth
out of his skin, and at the same time sent the Overland Riders into
unrestrained peals of laughter.

Henry, who had been out of sight ever since the arrival of the two men,
had ambled into camp observed only by Emma Dean who hugged herself
delightedly when she saw the bear's intention.

A yell from Chet Ainsworth when he felt the hot breath of the beast on
his neck, as Henry sniffed at it, brought every one, including Chet, to
their feet. Tobe Skinner whipped out his revolver and would have fired
at the animal had not Tom Gray gripped his wrist.

"He's tame. Don't be frightened," soothed Hippy. "All the animals in our
menagerie are halter-broken and milk-fed. Sit down. Go away, Henry! The
gentleman's nerves are a little upset after his sprint with Willy
Horse."

Mr. Ainsworth sat down, but the guide did not do so until Mrs. Shafto
had called off her animal and made him lie down.

"That was the voice of nature whispering to you, Mr. Ainsworth,"
suggested Emma demurely. "Henry had a message for you. You should have
listened. Did you ever have the birds of the air, or the beasts or the
trees, tell you their secrets, sir?" Emma's face wore a serious
expression.

Chet and Tobe gazed at her with sagging jaws, then glanced at Hippy.

Hippy Wingate tapped his own head with a finger and sighed.

"They do get that way sometimes. We have others in our outfit who are
similarly affected," he said sadly.

"So I have discovered," articulated Ainsworth. "I reckon we'll be
going."

"Certainly not," interjected Grace. "Don't mind Mr. Wingate. He too is
somewhat queer at times. You will stay here to-night, both of you. We
could not be so inhospitable as to permit you to start out at this hour
of the night. In the morning you will have breakfast and, if you wish,
an early start."

"Sure," agreed Tom. "We have a lean-to that is not occupied. You can
bunk in there."

"Thanks, but chain up that bear or I won't be responsible for what
happens. Think over my offer to-night," he urged, turning to Hippy.
"After you have slept over it you will see that it is to your best
interests to accept."

"Thanks," answered Hippy. "Good-night."

After the visitors and the Overland girls had turned in, and the
campfire was fixed for the night, Tom and Hippy had a confidential talk,
their visitor and his proposals being the subject of the discussion;
then they too sought their browse-beds.

Yells and a shot, punctuated by screeches from Joe Shafto, awakened all
hands in the gray of the early morning.

"Is it peace, or is it war again?" mumbled Anne, sitting up and rubbing
her eyes sleepily.

"It certainly does sound like war, but I think it is only the beginning
of it," answered Grace, hurriedly throwing on her clothes and running
out to see what the uproar was about. What she saw caused Grace and her
companions, who had followed her out, to utter gasps of amazement.

CHAPTER XXI

A WISE OLD OWL

"What's the trouble, Tom? Oh, stop them!" cried Grace.

"Let her finish it," answered Tom briefly.

"Sick 'em, Henry!" shouted Hippy Wingate, who saw the black bear humping
himself across the camp, not yet having discovered what the uproar was
about. "What's this? What's this?" he cried, suddenly comprehending.

Tobe Skinner, with streaming face which Joe Shafto had hit with a pot of
hot coffee, was sprinting for the timber, after having taken a shot at
the bear with his revolver. Following him came Chet Ainsworth puffing
and raging, with Henry on his hind legs in close pursuit, making
frequent swings with his powerful arms and soundly boxing the head of
the fleeing man, and Joe Shafto prodding the bear to urge him on to
further effort.

Neither Tom nor Hippy made a move to interfere, but Grace sped forward
and placed a firm hand on the forest woman's arm.

"Stop him!" commanded Grace sternly. "Stop him, I say! He will kill the
man."

"Serve the houn' right if the bear did. I'll larn 'em to mind their
business, the sarpints! Henry!" A sharp rap over the bear's shoulder
slowed the animal down. A second tap brought him to all fours, with his
mistress's hand fastened in the hair of his head.

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