"Mr. Joshua Ward," said Parker, grimly, "you'd probably like to know how I happened to be prowling round through the forest dressed up so as to play bear?"

"I was meditatin' that ye'd tell me by n' by, if it wa'n't any secret,"

the old man replied, humbly.

"Well, I think you have a right to know. You possess a personal interest in the matter, Mr. Ward. I was tied up and sent away to be killed or to be turned out to die by a man named Colonel Gideon Ward."

To Parker's surprise the old man did not stop in his rubbing, but said, plaintively, "I was almost afeard it might be some o' Gid's works, or, to say the least his puttin' up. He don't improve any as he grows older."

"You have pretty good reason to know how much chance there is for improvement in Gideon Ward," suggested Parker, bitterly.

"Fam'ly matters, fam'ly matters, young man," murmured Joshua, reprovingly. "But I ain't tryin' to excuse Brother Gideon, ye understand. I'm afeard that when the time of trial does come to him, he will find that the hand of the Lord is heavy in punishment. I've had a good part of a lifetime, young man, to think all these things over in this place up here. A man gets near to G.o.d in these woods. A man can put away the little thoughts. The warm sun thaws his hate; the big winds blow out the flame of anger; the great trees sing only one song, and high or low, it's 'Hush--hush-h-h--hush-h-h-h!'" The voice of the man softly imitated the soughing of the pines.

Parker stumbled to his bunk, his feet still uncertain, drank his tea, and slept.

The next morning, after the breakfast of bread and venison, the host said: "Young man, now that you have slept on your anger, I wish you'd tell me the story of your trouble with my brother Gideon. I know that he has been rough and hard with men, but many have been rough and hard with him. This is a country where all the men are rough and hard. But I fear that had it not been for the good G.o.d and these old hands of mine, my brother would be now little else than a murderer. Tell me the story."

His voice trembled with apology and apprehension.

Parker stated all the circ.u.mstances faithfully and impartially. At the conclusion Joshua's eyes glowed with fires that had not been seen in them for years. He struck his brown fist down on his rude table.

"Defying G.o.d's law and man's law to the disgrace of himself and all his name! And you had not been rough and hard to him," he cried. "Bitter, bitter news you bring to me, Mr. Parker."

There was a long pause, and at last Joshua Ward went on:

"Mr. Parker, that man is my own--my only brother, no matter how other people look at him. I have saved your life. Will you give me one chance to straighten this matter out?"

"You mean?"

"I mean that if Gideon Ward will pay for the damage he has done your property, ask your forgiveness as a man, and promise to keep away and let you alone, will you be charitable enough to let the matter rest?"

Parker pondered a while with set lips. It cost a struggle to forego vengeance on that wretch, but many issues were involved, princ.i.p.ally the early completion of the railroad and his consequent favor with his employers.

"Mr. Ward," he declared, at last, "I came down here to build a railroad, not to get entangled in the courts. For your sake and the sake of my project I will give your brother an opportunity to make atonement on the conditions you name. I owe my life to you, and I will discharge part of my obligation in the way you ask."

"Are you afraid to accompany me back to Number 7 camp?"

"No, sir!" In his turn Parker struck the table. "I am ready to go back there alone and charge that man with his crime, and depend on the manhood of his crew to stand neutral while I take him and deliver him over to the law. And that I will do if you fail in your endeavors."

The old man was silent. He made no attempt to soften the young man's indignation or resolution. Parker noted that his lips tightened as tho with solemn, inward resolve.

During the remainder of his convalescing stay in the camp the subject of Gideon Ward was not broached again.

The hermit beguiled the hours with simple narratives of the woods, his cats on knees and shoulders. He had no complaints for the past or the present and no misgivings as to the future, so it appeared from his talk.

Parker came to realize that under his peculiar and, to the casual observer, erratic mode of life there was a calm and sound philosophy that he had cultivated in his retirement. He had the strange notions of those who have lived much alone and in the wilderness. An unkind critic would have dismissed him brusquely with the belief that his troubles had unbalanced his mind. But Parker saw beneath all his eccentricity, and as the hermit wistfully discoursed of the peace that the woods had given him the young man conceived both respect and affection for this strange character. His knowledge of Joshua's life tragedy pre-disposed him to pity. He was grateful for the tender solicitude the old man had shown toward him. At the end of his stay he sincerely loved the brother of his enemy.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN--THE BEAR OF THE BIG WOODS "BAITED" AFTER HIS OWN FASHION

On the third morning Parker was able to travel. Joshua Ward had brought the carca.s.s of the slain deer across the lake on his sled, and the cats of Little Moxie were left to rule the island and feast at will until the return of the master.

On the day they set forth it was shortly after dark,--for they had proceeded slowly on account of the young man's feet, when Parker again looked down from the ridge upon Number 7 camp. If Colonel Gideon Ward was not there, they proposed to follow along his line of camps until they found him. Parker carried a shotgun with two barrels. The old man bore his rifle. They advanced without hesitation over the creaking snow, straight to the door of the main camp, and entered after the unceremonious fashion of the woods.

A hundred men were ranged on the long benches called "deacons' seats,"

or lounged on the springy browse in their bunks. A man, with one leg crossed over his knee, and flapping it to beat his time, was squawking a lively tune on a fiddle, and a perspiring youth danced a jig on a square of planking before the roaring fire. The air was dim with the smoke of many pipes and with the steam from drying garments hung on long poles.

Connick removed his pipe when the door opened, and gazed under his hand, held edgewise to his forehead.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, my bantam boy!" he bawled, in greeting. "What did you break out o' the w.a.n.gan and run away for?"

The fiddle stopped. The men crowded up from the bunks and deacons'

seats. All were as curious as magpies. They gazed with interest on Parker's companion. But no one threatened them by look or gesture.

"Is Gideon Ward here?" inquired Joshua, blandly.

"Yes, I'm here!" came the answer, shouted from the pen at the farther end. "What's wanted?"

"It's Joshua!" called the brother. "I'll come in."

"Stay where you are!" cried Gideon; and the next moment he came shouldering through the men, who fell back to let him pa.s.s.

The instant his keen gaze fell on the person who bore his brother company he seemed to understand the situation perfectly. There was just the suspicion of fear when he faced the blazing eyes of Parker, but he snorted contemptuously and turned to his brother.

"Wal, Josh," he cried, "out with it! What can I do for you?"

"The matter isn't one to be talked over in public, brother," suggested Joshua.

"I hain't any secrets in my life!" shouted Gideon, defiantly, as if he proposed to antic.i.p.ate and discount any allegations that his visitors might produce.

"Ye don't refuse to let me talk a matter of business over with ye in private, do ye, Gideon?"

"Colonel Ward," said Parker, stepping forward, "your brother is ashamed to show you up before these men."

"Here, Connick, Hackett, any of you! Seize that runaway, and throw him into the w.a.n.gan till I get ready to attend to him!" commanded Ward.

The men did not move.

"Do as I tell ye!" bawled the colonel. "Twenty dollars to the men--fifty dollars to the men who ketch an' tie him for me!"

Several rough-looking fellows came elbowing forward, tempted by the reward. Parker raised his gun, but Connick was even quicker. The giant seized an ax, and shouted:

"Keep back, all of ye! There's goin' to be fair play here to-night, an'

it's Dan Connick says so!"

"Connick," Gideon's command was almost a scream, "don't you interfere in what's none o' your business!"

"It's my business when a square man don't get his rights," Connick cried, with fully as much energy as the colonel, "and that chap is a man, for he licked me clean and honest!"