The Vagrant Duke. Gibbs George

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      There was a commotion downstairs, the shooting of bolts, the sounds of voices and presently the quick patter of feminine footsteps which McGuire, now completely oblivious of Peter, went to meet.

      "Well, daughter!"

      "Hello, Pop!"

      Peter caught a glimpse of a face and straggling brown hair, quickly engulfed in McGuire's arms.

      "What on earth – " began McGuire.

      "Thought we'd give you a little touch of high life, Pop. It was so hot in town. And the hotel's full of a convention of rough necks. I brought Freddy with me and Mildred and Jack are in the other car. We thought the rest might do us good."

      The voice was nasal and pitched high, as though she were trying to make herself audible in a crowd. Peter was ready to revise his estimate that her face was pretty, for to him no woman was more beautiful than her own voice.

      "But you can't stay here, Peg," went on McGuire, "not more than over night – with all these people. I'm very busy – "

      "H-m. We'll see about that. I never saw the woods look prettier. We came by Lakewood and Brown's Mills and – Why who – ?"

      As she sidled into the room she suddenly espied Peter who was still standing by the window.

      "Who – ? Why – Oh, yes, this is my new superintendent and forester. Meet my daughter, – Mr. Nichols."

      Peter bowed and expressed pleasure. Miss McGuire swept him with a quick glance that took in his flannel shirt, corduroy breeches and rough boots, nodded pertly and turned away.

      Peter smiled. Like Beth Cameron this girl was very particular in choosing her acquaintances.

      "I nearly killed a guy in the driveway," she went on, "who was he, Pop?"

      "Er – one of the gardeners, I've told them to keep people off the place."

      "Well. I'd like to see him keep me off! I suppose he'll be trying to hold up Mildred and Jack – "

      She walked to the window passing close beside Peter, paying as little attention to his presence as if he had been, an article of furniture.

      "Can't you get this man to go down," she said indicating Peter, "and tell them it's all right?"

      "Of course," said Peter politely. "I'll go at once. And I'd like to arrange to look over part of the estate with Wells, Mr. McGuire," he added.

      "All right, Nichols," said the old man with a frown. And then significantly – "But remember what I've told you. Make careful arrangements before you go."

      "Yes, sir."

      Peter went down the stairs, amused at his dismissal. On the veranda he found a young man sitting on some suitcases smoking a cigarette. This was Freddy, of course. He afterwards learned that his last name was Mordaunt, that he was a part of Peggy's ambitions, and that he had been invalided home from a camp and discharged from the military service. As Freddy turned, Peter bowed politely and passed on. Having catalogued him by his clothing, Freddy like Peggy had turned away, smoking his cigarette.

      Peter thought that some Americans were born with bad manners, some achieved bad manners, and others had bad manners thrust upon them. Impoliteness was nothing new to him, since he had been in America. It was indigenous. Personally, he didn't mind what sort of people he met, but he seemed to be aware that a new element had come to Black Rock which was to make disquietude for Jonathan K. McGuire and difficulty for himself. And yet too there was a modicum of safety, perhaps, in the presence of these new arrivals, for it had been clear from his employer's demeanor that the terrors of the night had passed with the coming of the day.

      He commented on this to Shad Wells, who informed him that night was always the old man's bad time.

      "Seems sort o' like he's skeered o' the dark. 'Tain't nateral. 'Fraid o' ghosts, they say," he laughed.

      "Well," said Peter, "we've got our orders. And the thing he fears isn't a ghost. It's human."

      "Sure?"

      "Yes. And since he's more afraid after dark he has probably had his warning. But we're not to take any chances."

      Having given his new orders to Jesse, who was to be in charge during their absence, they struck into the woods upon the other side of the Creek for the appraisal of a part of the strip known as the "Upper Reserve." From an attitude of suspicion and sneering contempt Peter's companion had changed to one of indifference. The unfailing good humor of the new superintendent had done something to prepare the ground for an endurable relation between them. Like Beth Cameron Shad had sneered at the word "forester." He was the average lumberman, only interested in the cutting down of trees for the market – the commercial aspect of the business – heedless of the future, indifferent to the dangers of deforestation. Peter tried to explain to him that forestry actually means using the forest as the farmer uses his land, cutting out the mature and overripe trees and giving the seedlings beneath more light that they may furnish the succeeding crop of timber. He knew that the man was intelligent enough, and explained as well as he could from such statistics as he could recall how soon the natural resources of the country would be exhausted under the existing indifference.

      "Quite a bit of wood here, Mister – enough for my job," said Shad.

      But after a while Peter began to make him understand and showed him what trees should be marked for cutting and why. They came to a burned patch of at least a hundred acres.

      "Is there any organized system for fighting these fires?" Peter asked.

      "System! Well, when there's a fire we go and try to put it out – " laughed Wells.

      "How do the fires start?"

      "Campers – hunters mos'ly – in the deer season. Railroads sometimes – at the upper end."

      "And you keep no watch for smoke?"

      "Where would we watch from?"

      "Towers. They ought to be built – with telephone connection to headquarters."

      "D'ye think the old man will stand for that?"

      "He ought to. It's insurance."

      "Oh!"

      "It looks to me, Wells," said Peter after a pause, "that a good 'crown' fire and a high gale, would turn all this country to cinders – like this."

      "It's never happened yet."

      "It may happen. Then good-by to your jobs – and to Black Rock too perhaps."

      "I guess Black Rock can stand it, if the old man can."

      They walked around the charred clearing and mounted a high sand dune, from which they could see over a wide stretch of country. With a high wooden platform here the whole of the Upper Reserve could be watched. They sat for a while among the sandwort and smoked, while Peter described the work in the German forests that he had observed before the war. Shad had now reached the point of listening and asking questions as the thought was more and more borne into his mind that this new superintendent was not merely talking for talk's sake, but because he knew more about the woods than any man the native had ever talked with, and wanted Shad to know too. For Peter had an answer to all СКАЧАТЬ