The Silent Battle. Gibbs George

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СКАЧАТЬ knew, was meant for him. There was much to be done, but he fell to with a will, his muscles eager for the task, his mind cleared of the fogs of doubt and speculation which had dimmed it the night before. There were no problems he could not solve alone, no difficulties his ingenuity could not surmount. The old blood of his race, which years before had conquered this same wilderness, or another one like it, surged new in his veins and he rejoiced in the chance to test his strength against the unhandselled matter which opposed him. The forest smiled upon him, already gracious in defeat.

      He returned to camp after a turn through the woods, and in one hand was a clean sliver of birch-bark, filled with blueberries. He put them safely in a hollow place in the fallen tree, filled the saucepan with water and placed it in the fire to boil. Then he cleaned fish.

      He worked noiselessly, bringing more firewood, plenty of which was still close at hand; and after a glance at the sleeping girl, he unsheathed his knife and went again into the brush. There, after a search, he found what he was looking for—a straight young oak tree, about two inches in diameter. He succeeded at last, with much pains and care for his knife, in cutting it through and trimming off the small branches. At the upper end of this club was a V-shaped crotch, made by two strong forking branches, which he cut and whittled until they were to his liking. Returning to the fire, he emptied his fly-hook, took his rod and unreeled a good length of line, which he cut off and placed on the log beside him. Then with the line, he bound the fly-hook, stuffed with caribou moss, into the fork of his stick, wrapping the strong cord carefully until he had made a serviceable crutch. He was hobbling around near the fire on it, testing its utility when he heard a gasp of amazement. He had been so engrossed in his task that he had not thought of the object of these attentions, and when he glanced toward the shelter, she was sitting upright, regarding him curiously.

      “What on earth are you doing?”

      He laughed gayly.

      “Good morning! Hobbling, I believe. Don’t I do it nicely?”

      “You—you’ve hurt yourself?”

      He took the crutch from under his arm and looked at it admiringly.

      “Oh, no—but you have.”

      “I! Oh, yes. I forgot. I don’t think I’ll need it at all. I—” She started up and tried to put her foot down and then sank back in dismay. “It seems to still hurt me a little,” she said quietly.

      “Of course it does. You don’t get over that sort of thing in a minute. It will be better when the blood gets into it. Meanwhile,” he handed her the stick, “you must use this. Breakfast will be ready in a minute, so if you feel like making a toilet–”

      “Oh, yes, of course,” she glanced around her at the patines of gold the sun had laid over the floor of their breakfast-room and asked the time.

      “Half past seven.”

      “Then I’ve slept–”

      “Nearly nine hours.”

      He started forward to help her to her feet and as he did so, she saw his coat, which had fallen from her shoulders.

      “You shouldn’t have given me your coat. You must have frozen.”

      “On the contrary, I was quite comfortable. The night was balmy—besides, I was nearer the fire.”

      “I’m very much obliged,” she said. After one or two clumsy efforts she managed to master her crutch and, refusing his aid, made her way to the stream without difficulty.

      Gallatin spitted the fish on the charred sticks of yesterday and held them up to the fire, his appetite pleasantly assertive at the first delicious odor. When the girl joined him a while later, all was ready, the last of the tea darkening the simmering pot, the cooked fish lying in a row on a flat stone in the fire.

      As she hobbled up he rose and offered her a place on the log beside him.

      “I hope you’re hungry. I am. Our menu is small but most select—blueberries Ojibway, trout sauté, and Bohea en casserole. The biscuits, I’m ashamed to say, are no more.”

      She reflected his manner admirably. “Splendid! I fairly dote on blueberries. Where did you get them? You’re really a very wonderful person. For luncheon, of course, cress and dandelion salad, fish and a venison pasty. For dinner–”

      “Don’t be too sure,” he laughed. “Let’s eat what we’ve got and be thankful.”

      “I am thankful,” she said, picking at the blueberries. “I might have been still lying over there in the leaves.” She turned her face confidingly to his. “Do you know, I thought you were a bear.”

      “Did you?”

      “Until you pointed a pistol at me—and then I thought you were an Indian.”

      “I’m very sorry. I didn’t know what you were—I don’t think I quite know yet.”

      She took the cup of tea from his fingers before she replied.

      “I? Oh, I’m just—just a girl. It doesn’t matter much who or what.”

      “I didn’t mean to be inquisitive,” he said quickly.

      “But you were—” she insisted.

      “Yes,” he admitted, “I’m afraid I was.”

      “Names don’t matter—here, do they? The woods are impersonal. Can’t you and I be impersonal, too?”

      “I suppose so, but my curiosity is rather natural—under the circumstances.”

      “I don’t intend to gratify it.”

      “Why not? My name–”

      “Because—I prefer not,” she said firmly. And then: “These fish are delicious. Some more tea, please!”

      He looked at her while she drank and then took the cup from her hand without replying. Her chin he discovered could fall very quickly into lines of determination. Her attitude amused him. She was, it seemed, a person in the habit of having things her own way and it even flattered him that she had discerned that he must acquiesce.

      “You shall have your own way,” he laughed amusedly, “but if I call you ‘Hey, there,’ don’t be surprised.”

      “I won’t,” she smiled.

      When they had finished the last of the tea he got up, washed the two dishes at the stream, and relit the ashes of last night’s pipe.

      “The Committee of Ways and Means will now go into executive session,” he began. “I haven’t the least idea where we are. I may have traveled ten miles yesterday or twenty. I’ve lost my bearings, that’s sure, and so have you. There are two things to do—one of them is to find our way out by ourselves and the other is to let somebody find it for us. The first plan isn’t feasible until you are able to walk–”

      “I could manage with my crutch.”

      “No, I’m afraid that won’t do. There’s no use starting off until we know where we’re going.”

      “But you said you thought you could–”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ