CHAPTER V

TWO MEN

"And the red oar won out," Cora remarked, looking at the old relic with something akin to reverence. "Perhaps, after all, there is something in luck."

"Looked like it," agreed Denny. "And after we got back Len couldn't pay any attention to the half-frozen men, or to me, that had been pretty well chilled--all he could do was talk about the luck of that oar."

"I don't blame him," Freda put in. "Your rope had nearly burned, your light oar broke, one of the heavy pair went overboard and this one did most of the work getting back, I suppose."

"Right," said Denny, "for while we had another pair to work with, they were slim, and weak, but that fellow, it sure was tough then; but lately when I take it down it seems to have shrunk, for it's gettin'

lighter, somehow."

"And how did you come to get it?" asked Cora.

"That's the end of my story," said Denny. "When Len was taken very sick, of course I used to stay with me friend as much as I could."

Freda unconsciously pushed her chair nearer the old man. Surely to hear of the last days of her good grandfather's life was a matter too important to pa.s.s over lightly.

"Your father was livin' then, Freddie," Denny went on, "and a fine healthy young man, too."

"Father died so suddenly," said Freda, "mother hardly ever speaks of his death. She always seems overcome after talking of it."

"That was a sad thing," Denny digressed. "To go off in the morning, a-whistlin' and happy, and to be brought home without a word in him.

Freddie, dear, I oughtn't to talk of it."

Freda brushed aside a tear. Her father's death had been caused by apoplexy, when she was but a mite of a child.

"But the queer part of it was that your grandfather seemed to think I would outlive his son, and John such a strappin'-lookin' fellow,"

resumed Denny. "Len called me to him, and him sick and miserable, and he says: 'Denny, John's not as strong as he looks, and I want you to do all you can to help Louisa,' (your mother of course, Freddie), 'for she has the child to raise,' he said. Well, he wouldn't let me interrupt him when I tried to speak of John. He would have it that I should keep an eye to things. Your grandfather Lewis left me no papers, however--I supposed John had them--but he left me the old red oar. He had fairly been playin' with it for years, always polishin' it or shapin' it off here or there. I often look at the marks of his knife on it, and wonder why he seemed fond of it."

"I am sure," said Freda, earnestly, "you have kept your promise, Uncle Denny. Mother often speaks of how good you were when I was small.

Father never had any papers about grandfather's land; all he had related to family keepsakes. The strange part of it all is to me that a man of grandfather's intelligence should be so remiss about his property claims."

"But, Freddie, you don't understand. There seemed no need for deeds and mortgage papers then about here. Everybody knew everyone else, and things seemed to be solid forever. But now them plagued land fellows--well, they've got a good cheek, is all I can say." And he emptied an unsmoked pipe of tobacco in his indignation.

"But we are going to get after them," Cora declared. "We want to go slowly, and, if possible, find out what their intentions are. Find what sort of company they claim to have, in the first place, and if they are an honorable set of men they ought to make open claims, instead of sneaking around, and trying to find out things that might cause a flaw in the t.i.tle. I am suspicious, for one," she finished significantly.

"Well, good luck to your s.p.u.n.k," said Denny, "and I never knew the like of it to fail. But say, tell me about the boat. What did the lads think of the fixin's?"

"Oh, it was the greatest fun," Freda replied. "They could not imagine how we ever thought of using the cylinder water for a dishwater supply. I never gave it away that you suggested it to Cora's mechanic."

"And I want to thank you, Mr. Shane----"

"Mr. Shane!" Denny interrupted. "Say, if you call me that I'll think I'm reading me own death notice in the _Beacon_."

Cora laughed at this, and agreed he should be "Uncle Denny" to her as well as to the others of the neighborhood.

"But it was splendid of you to have the boat all ready for us when we came. I did not suppose Freda had a chance to get down to it before we loomed up."

"You don't know the risin' hour for us folks at the Bay," returned Denny, with a sly wink. "Freddie couldn't stay abed when the sun is beckonin' on the waves; could you, Freddie?"

"Oh, the early Summer mornings are beautiful," replied Freda, "and I am sorry I had to lose so many of them. Who's that? The girls, looking for us! There's Bess puffing, and Belle--fluffing. I do think they are the most attractive pair."

Cora smiled, for her own devotion to the Robinson twins was only paralleled by the twins' devotion to Cora.

"Cora! Freda!" called youthful voices from the path. "Where are you?"

"Come in--do!" answered Denny, who always had a spare chair for visitors.

"Oh, we can't," replied Belle. "Cora, the boys are threatening to take out the _Chelton_. And oh! I'm completely out of breath. It's dreadful to try to hurry through the sand."

"Indeed they shall not take the _Chelton_ out without my permission,"

Cora declared. "When we make our initial trip I intend to command it.

For one thing, Uncle Denny is to come along; for another--well, that's to be a little surprise. This afternoon at two exactly--will you come, Uncle Denny?"

"I will that," the old sailor replied. "I think it would be a good thing to have a little weight, like my old head, in her when she starts out. Them laddies are always up to pranks."

"Oh, we are just crazy to get out on the water," Bess put in, "and what do you think? That vain little Lottie went all the way to town to get the exact nautical cap. I wonder if she thinks folks in motor boats run slowly enough to see little white caps on little light girls?"

"When we get going I think all that will be seen will be splash, and all that will be heard will be chug," Cora remarked. "But come on.

Let's hurry along. I promised Rita to help her with something."

"What?" asked Bess, curiously.

"Now, Bessie, that would be telling," replied Cora, stopping just long enough to empty the sand from her tennis shoe. Denny was trudging along after them--he could not resist an excuse to go down to the sh.o.r.e.

"Well, I'll say good-bye," said Freda. "I have to run back to mother.

She will think I am lost."

"But you are coming this afternoon?" Cora insisted.

"Oh, I really can't, Cora, thank you," answered the other. "I have something so important to look after."

"What are you girls up to?" demanded Belle. "You have been acting mysteriously ever since you met on the train. Freda, it is really unpardonable not to take the initial trip with us, but if you really cannot----"

"I really cannot," returned Freda, decisively, and somehow the girls realized that Freda's business was urgent.

"Now, I'll show you a short cut," said Denny. "Take that path there--don't be afraid of the sign that the owner put up--he has no right to the beach front; then when you get to the Lonely Willow--do you know where that is?"

Not one of them knew, but they were anxious to find out.

"You can't miss the Lonely Willow, for it stands all alone and looks as forlorn as the mast of a sunken steamer," said Denny. "It's in the deep hollow by the watercress patch. Turn around that tree to your left and you'll see another path. But wait a minute," he broke off, "maybe it's a bit lonely."

"Oh, there are enough of us to shout if we see bears," Cora laughed.

"We have to hurry, and we will be glad to explore."