"I dasn't risk it until to-night, Billy," he resumed. "When I seen that skunk Bergstein leave I thought I'd let ye know." He leaned forward, one hand fumbling under the rags. "That's what I found," he said in a whisper, as he drew out a piece of twisted paper. "I had hard work to get it," he added, carefully untwisting the fragment and disclosing a teaspoonful of whitish powder. "It may be pizon and it mayn't--I ain't tried it on nothin' yet, but he was so all-fired perticler in hidin' it I thought I'd bring it along."

"Where did you find it?"

"Under that h.e.l.l-hound's mattress. He's got more of it in a blue box.

Thar warn't n.o.body seen me. d.a.m.n him!"--he muttered--"it was him that told the sheriff last month down to Leetle Moose that he seen me cross his trail. I'd crep' down to see my leetle gal, and he stepped 'most on top of us. We weren't more 'n forty rod this side o' whar she lived, and the skunk went in and told how he'd seen somebody skulkin'

off, and, of course, they knowed then. They made it hot 'nough for me. I been layin' for him ever since; I was watchin' him through the winder when I see him hunt for this powder. Folks don't keep stuff like that whar he kep' it 'less it's sumpin perticler. Somebody'll find him in the woods some time with a hole in him."

Holcomb laid the powder on the table. What he suspected he dared not formulate into words, let alone tell the hide-out.

"I ain't never forgot ye, Billy, for what ye've done for me,"

continued the hide-out with a choke in his feeble voice. Then, starting to his feet, the old fear returning, he whispered hoa.r.s.ely:

"'Tain't safe here for me; I dasn't stay longer."

"Bob," said Holcomb, "you're safe here until daylight; there's my bed."

"No! No! I da.s.sent, Billy."

"But you're wet to the skin," insisted Holcomb.

"So be everything when it rains. I'm wet most of the time. Now I'm a-goin', and a-goin' quick. That's what I come to give ye," and he nodded to the crumpled bit of paper and its contents lying under the lamp's glow.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Bob, down below? I saw Katie last time I drove in."

A hungry eager look stole into the man's face; tears started in his eyes and lost themselves in his matted, unkempt beard.

"Ye see Katie, Billy?" he moaned. "G.o.d--how I'd like to! Growing, ain't she? Most 'leven now. Some weeks back since I dared go down.

Last time I see her she cried and went on so holdin' on to me I come near givin' myself up I felt so bad; then I knowed that wouldn't git nowhars."

"No, Bob, better keep moving. I'm going to speak to Mr. Thayor when the time comes--but it isn't yet. Hold on--here's matches and what's left in the cupboard." Taking two of his own shirts and a pair of his woollen trousers, he wrapped up the food and a little cheer; then blowing out the lamp he again raised the sash cautiously, and with a hurried handshake bade him good-night.

"If ye want me again Hite Holt kin find me--he knows whar I be," he whispered softly. Then he slipped out into the darkness and was gone.

Holcomb regained his chair, folded the paper containing every grain of the powder into an envelope and slipped it into his desk.

One thing he was resolved upon--not to tell Mr. Thayor of his suspicions until there was no question of his proof.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It is a long drive in from the railroad to Morrison's. Hite called it eighteen good miles; the Clown put it at nineteen; what the old dog estimated it at none knew. He had always trotted the distance cheerfully.

From Thayor's private flag station, the main road into Big Shanty snakes along over a flat, spa.r.s.ely settled valley before it enters the deep woods. Once in the heavy timber it crossed chattering brooks skirting the ragged edges of wild ravines. On it goes through the forest mile after mile, up hill and down, until it emerges abruptly into the open country at the head of the "Deadwater," pa.s.ses Morrison's, is met half a mile farther on by the new road leading down from Big Shanty camp, and continues straight ahead through a rough notch out to a valley twelve miles beyond.

It was over this road that Alice Thayor went to her exile.

Thayor and Holcomb, this rare August afternoon, were at the flag station to meet the "Wanderer"--the banker's private car, with a spick-and-span three-seated buckboard and a fast team of bays. Aboard the car were Alice and Margaret, Blakeman and Annette.

Alice Thayor's first meeting with Holcomb since the time when he saved her husband's life, consisted of a slight nod of recognition and an annoyed "How do you do?" She wore a smart travelling gown of Scotch homespun and a becoming toque of gray straw enveloped in a filmy dragon-green veil. Holcomb thought it strange that Thayor kissed his daughter and simply greeted his wife with the question, "I do hope you were comfortable, dear, coming up?"

"The heat was something frightful," she replied, lifting the dragon-green veil wearily and binding it straight across her forehead.

"My head is splitting."

Holcomb glanced at her exquisite features. The brilliancy of her dark eyes was enhanced by the pallor of her ivory skin. Alice Thayor loathed travelling.

Margaret had greeted him far more graciously; she had extended her firm little gloved hand to him, with genuine delight in her brown eyes, and had told him how very glad indeed she was to see him--which was the truth. During the drive in her mother scarcely opened her lips. She sat in the middle seat beside her daughter, haughtily gracious and inwardly bored. Margaret's enthusiasm irritated her.

The woman going to her exile was in no mood to enthuse over nature.

Holcomb drove, with Thayor on the front seat beside him; on the back seat sat Blakeman and Annette, in respectful silence. As they entered the deep woods at a smart trot, Margaret half closed her eyes in sheer ecstasy and drew in a long, delicious breath of forest air.

"My--but that's good, daddy!" she exclaimed. Everything was of intense interest to her. The sudden glimpse of some great mountain towering above the trees; the velvety green, billowy moss; the merry little brooks they crossed; the whirring flight of a startled partridge and now the sinking sun flooding the silent woods with gold. When she was not in ecstasies over these, her brown eyes glanced at the clean-cut, handsome profile of the young woodsman who was so skilfully driving the bay team.

He was no longer the awkward and embarra.s.sed young fellow she remembered that summer at Long Lake. He had, she realized much to her agreeable surprise, the ease and manner of a well-bred man about him now. His honest, cheery frankness appealed to her; moreover, she thought him exceedingly handsome.

"That's where the line crosses," said Holcomb, pointing quickly to a blazed hemlock.

"Oh, look, mother--quick!" cried Margaret.

"We're in Big Shanty tract now, dear," explained Thayor. "The line we have just pa.s.sed strikes due east from here and runs--how far, Billy?"

"Oh--clear to Alder Brook--about fifteen miles, before it corners south."

Alice's lips grew tense; she was beginning to realize the vastness of her husband's purchase. She began to wonder, too, how much it had cost him--this folly of Sam's.

"And is it all as beautiful as this?" asked Margaret of the young man whose strong brown hands held the reins.

"Yes, Miss Thayor, and some of it is a good deal better looking."

"You shall see, dearie," added Thayor; "I've a surprise in store for you both--yes, a hundred surprises. We will cross the East Branch of Big Shanty Brook in a moment--that is surprise number one. How is the headache, Alice--better?"

"A little," she returned indifferently.

"Listen!" said Thayor; "hear it? That's the East Branch roaring."

"Oh--I'm just crazy to see it!" cried Margaret. "It was on the West Branch you killed the deer, wasn't it, daddy?"

Thayor nodded and smiled.

"Now look, puss!" he commanded, as they reached the rough bridge spanning the East Branch.

Margaret peered down into the heavy black water a hundred feet below them.

"Daddy, it's gorgeous--simply gorgeous," exclaimed Margaret. "Look, mother, at the water swirling through that green pool. Oh, _do_ look, mother." Alice condescended to look.

"Isn't it superb, Alice?" ventured Thayor.