In a few minutes they were down by the lake examining the boat, to find out how much it had been damaged.

"It is not so badly burned as I thought," John remarked. "The bottom is all right, and the sides are only partly injured. If we can get several good-sized poles to place underneath, it should carry us all right. I guess we can find them over there," and he motioned to his left. "If I only had an axe it wouldn't take me long to make a raft that would hold a horse."

Together they made their way into the forest a short distance from the mine. The fire had left desolation on all sides in its onward sweep.

Everything was black, and the tall trees stood gaunt and bare. The underbrush had been burnt, so without much difficulty John was enabled to find a number of sticks lying upon the ground, which he knew would serve his purpose. It did not take the two long to carry them back to the landing, and in a remarkably short time they were placed under the boat and securely fastened with willow withes, which served instead of a rope. When the work was finished, John stepped on the raft, pushed it from the sh.o.r.e, and tested it thoroughly.

"It is perfectly safe," he announced, "and will carry us all."

In a few minutes they were on board and out upon the lake, with Eben lying upon the bottom of the boat. John had found a long slim stick, and with this he poled. But when the water became too deep he paddled with one of the oars which had escaped the fire.

Little was said at first as they moved slowly forward toward the lower end of the island. Jess sat by Eben, with his head resting upon her lap, while Mrs. Hampton was seated near by. John was facing her, and at times their eyes met. Words were unnecessary to express their thoughts, for love has a silent language all its own, which lovers alone understand.

As they came near the lower end of the island, Jess pointed out the exact spot where she and Mrs. Hampton had taken refuge.

"It was on that big rock," she explained to John. "The fire was almost upon us when Eben arrived. We thought it was you at first, for we were expecting you, and wondering why you were so long in coming."

John made no immediate reply, but paddled steadily forward. He had said nothing about his experience on the plains, and he disliked to tell of it now. He was not sure how Jess might receive the news of her father's narrow escape and sad condition. He also knew that he would have to answer many questions, and would be forced to tell of his own part in the rescue, a thing which was adverse to his nature. But he would have to do so sooner or later, so it might as well be now as any time, he thought. Then, as briefly as possible, he explained the cause of his delay, and how he had hurried to the island as soon as the men had arrived from the river.

While John was speaking, Jess watched him intently, her heart beating rapidly, and her face very pale.

"What was daddy doing there?" she asked when he had finished.

"He was looking for you, so I gathered from what he said. He became lost, and sprained or broke his ankle as he wandered around. Then the fire came, and he was stumbling across the plains when I happened to see him."

John said nothing about the manner in which Randall had treated him, and made light of his wild ravings after the fire had subsided.

Perhaps his distraction was only temporary, he reasoned, so it was just as well not to give the girl any unnecessary worry.

Jess sat for a while lost in thought, and John was relieved that she did not ask any more questions.

"Poor daddy!" she sighed. "I am sorry for him, but I hope this experience of his will teach him a lesson. He has been needing it for some time."

"Are you not afraid to go back to the river?" John asked. "Perhaps your father will be more angry than ever, and blame you for his trouble."

"I am not afraid now," was the low reply. "All that daddy can do or say will make little difference to me after what I have undergone to-day. I am going to him as soon as I can, and have this whole matter settled. I am sure he will not want me to marry Donaster now after the cowardly way he ran away and left us to our fate. But even if he does, it won't matter to me. Perhaps I was foolish to run away as I did. It might have been better if I had stayed at home, and a.s.serted my rights.

No one, not even my parents could have forced me to marry such a thing as that against my will. There will be no running away after this, I can tell you that. The matter will be settled once and for all as soon as I see daddy."

The decided tone of the girl's voice, and the look of determination in her eyes pleased the young man who was watching her. He liked what she said about Donaster, knowing that her censure was just. He knew what he would do with the coward should he ever catch him prowling around.

He just longed for some pretext to get his hands upon the fellow.

As they drew near the landing, they saw a car come down to the sh.o.r.e and stop. Several men stepped out, who waved encouragingly to the voyagers. John recognised them at once as the ones who had come to his aid on the plains. He was very glad to see them, and thankful when at last the raft grounded upon the sh.o.r.e. Without any questions the men lifted Eben from the boat, and laid him gently in the auto.

"The women and you, John, can come with me," the driver announced.

"There's another car outside for the rest of the men. We had a hard time getting through, so thought it best not to risk two cars."

In another minute they were on their way. Jess rode in the front seat, while Mrs. Hampton and John sat behind, and supported the still unconscious lad.

CHAPTER XXIX

CONFESSION

It was a beautiful afternoon as Henry Randall sat in a big easy chair under the shade of a large apple tree at the back of the Hampton house.

He was very weak from the terrible experience through which he had pa.s.sed almost two weeks before. He was slowly recovering, and his mind was now as clear as ever, for the cloud had lifted on the second day after the fire. His foot was still painful, and he could not yet bear to touch it to the ground. He liked this place at the rear of the house. It was quiet and hidden from all inquisitive eyes of pa.s.sers-by on the main highway.

The fire around Island Lake, and the thrilling escape from death of Henry Randall and the two women had stirred the country for miles around. For days it was the princ.i.p.al topic of conversation in numerous homes, at the church door on Sunday, and other places where people were in the habit of congregating. Although John Hampton was accorded much commendation for saving the life of the lumber merchant on the blueberry plains, it was Eben Tobin who received the unstinted praise of all, in so n.o.bly rescuing the women from the island. Every day anxious inquiries were made for the lad, and all were greatly pleased to learn of his steady improvement. The doctor, however, reported that it would be months before he could fully recover from his serious burns, and that his face and body would be scarred for the rest of his life.

The city newspapers made much of the affair, and the day after the fire contained special articles, with big headlines. The fact that Henry Randall, a leading citizen, was one of the chief actors, and that he was searching for his daughter who had taken refuge in the wilderness, created a sensation. It was the first knowledge that the public had that the girl was not drowned, and every sc.r.a.p of information was seized upon with avidity. That it was a love-affair of no ordinary nature was quite apparent, and this added to the intense interest which prevailed. Great credit was given to John Hampton and Eben Tobin for their part in the rescue, although it was hinted that the former was in a large measure responsible for the trouble.

Henry Randall made no comment about these newspaper articles when he was able to read them. Had they appeared three weeks before he would have been very indignant, and would have angrily resented the intrusion into his family affairs. But he had changed greatly since then. His bl.u.s.tering, dominating manner had disappeared, and he would sit by the hour beneath the shade of the old tree, either gazing straight before him, or intently watching the birds, bees, and b.u.t.terflies, which flitted and buzzed on all sides. He spoke but seldom, and seemed to take very little interest in the world of business of which he had but recently taken such an active part.

Whether this change was due to weakness Jess could not tell. That he did not once refer to her escapade and the trouble she had caused, surprised her not a little. She waited upon him faithfully, at first almost day and night, and he seemed pleased to have her by his side.

But she feared lest when he recovered his former strength his old imperious manner would return. She longed for him to remain the quiet, gentle, una.s.sertive man that he now was.

Not until the second week after the fire did Mrs. Randall visit her husband. She had wanted to come as soon as she learned of the accident, but owing to her nervous disposition the doctor ordered that she should stay at home. She would only be in the way, and her presence would be bad for the patient, so he explained. When finally she did come, she was very restless, and it was difficult to know what to do with her. She became hysterical when she saw her husband lying so still and white, and she furiously upbraided Jess for her rebellion, and the trouble she had brought upon the family. But after a few days she quieted down, took an interest in the family affairs, and seemed to enjoy being out in the open. She became greatly attached to Mrs.

Hampton, whose calmness and gentleness of manner won her affection.

"I wish I were like you," she one day confided, as she watched Mrs.

Hampton at her work.

"In what way?" was the smiling reply.

"Nothing seems to worry you in the least. No matter what happens, you remain perfectly unruffled. Now, I am altogether different."

"Perhaps I have my troubles, too," was the quiet response. "But I try to keep busy and not worry too much about them. Perhaps you have too much idle time on your hands."

"That may be so," and Mrs. Randall sighed. "You have a clear conscience, at any rate. But I, oh, you have no idea how I have sinned. I am sure that I can never be forgiven for what I have done.

If you knew what I have done, you would spurn me as one unfit to stay in your house another minute."

"Does your husband know about it?" Mrs. Hampton asked. She understood quite well to what this woman was referring, and only with an effort did she maintain her composure, although her heart beat fast.

"No, he has no idea of what I have done," Mrs. Randall replied. "I dare not tell him. Oh, it is terrible to have to bear this burden alone!"

Glancing out of the window, Mrs. Hampton saw Randall beneath the tree.

She knew that some day the truth would have to be told, and no time seemed as opportune as now. It could not be delayed much longer, she felt certain, and the sooner the revelation was made the better it would be.

"Your husband is all alone," she remarked, turning to her visitor.

"Suppose we go and sit with him for a while. I have some sewing to do, and it will be much nicer out there than in the house."

Mr. Randall smiled as the women came and sat down by his side. He was pleased to see his wife looking better than she had for years. The city paper, which had arrived at noon, was lying unopened on a little table by his side which Jess had placed there to hold the books and cigars which she hoped he would use. She had left him to go with John and the hired man into the hay field. She was never happier than when out in the open, and John was always delighted to have her with him.

Their hearts were full of love, and the world seemed filled with peace and joy on this beautiful summer afternoon.

As the two women sat under the shade of the tree and talked, Mr.

Randall listened for a while in a somewhat absent-minded manner. At length be reached out his hand and took the newspaper from off the table. He read first the financial news which interested him most of all. Then he turned over the pages and glanced carelessly at the events of the day. The various accounts of political meetings, murders, and local incidents had little or no appeal to him, and he was about to lay the paper aside when something caught his eye, which arrested his immediate attention, and caused an exclamation of surprise to escape his lips.

"What is it, Henry?" his wife asked. "Anything special?"