Dixie Martin, the Girl of Woodford's Cañon

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER THIRTY "RATTLESNAKE SAM"

  "Teacher, Miss Bayley." The boy who spoke was standing on the doorstepof the small cabin near the inn.

  "Why, Ken, good-morning. You are up very early, aren't you," the youngwoman who had opened the door exclaimed in surprise. Then, with suddenanxiety, "Is anything wrong at your home? Are Dixie, Carol, and the babyall right?"

  The boy's freckled face was beaming, and about his manner there wassomething suggestive of suppressed excitement. "Oh, yes'm, thank you,teacher. 'Tisn't about the girls I have come." Then, almost withembarrassment, he twisted one bare foot over the other and looked down.He had sworn an oath to Frederick Edrington that he wouldn't tell anyone who the camper on the peak had been, and it was hard, very hard forthe son of Pine Tree Martin to tell anything but the square and honesttruth.

  Miss Bayley, watching the boy, was indeed puzzled. "Dear," she saidkindly, placing a hand on his shoulder, "come in, won't you? I'm sureyou haven't had breakfast yet. Please stay and share mine with me."

  The boy's red-brown eyes lifted quickly. "Oh, no'm, teacher, thanks; Icouldn't do that. I told Dixie I'd be back, and she'll be waiting, butI--I wanted to tell you that I found the--the man who had made thecampfire that you saw."

  Miss Bayley was interested at once. "Oh, Ken," she said, drawing the ladwithin and closing the door. "Surely you can spare a minute to tell meabout him. Was he a sheep-rustler or a train-robber or a bandit, orwhatever it was you hoped he would be?"

  The boy shook his mop of red-brown hair and looked away to hide the joythat was in his eyes when he remembered who it had been that he hadfound. "No'm, Miss Bayley! He said that he was a hermit, and that hisname was--er--Rattlesnake Sam."

  "Oh, how interesting, Ken," the girl-teacher exclaimed. "I've alwaysloved to read stories about the West; perhaps that was why I was soeager to come when I was free to do as I pleased; and one of the thingsthat fascinated me was the way the men changed their names. I oftenwondered what had happened in their lives to cause their comrades tocall them the strange things they did. Of course Dick Sureshot, BronchoBill, and names like that are easy to understand, and 'Rattlesnake Sam'merely means, I suppose, that this old hermit has killed a great manyrattlers. He is a very, very old man, isn't he?"

  "Yes'm, Miss Bayley. That is, no'm, I mean. I guess he isn't a hundredyet."

  The girl-teacher laughed. "Ken," she said, "it's plain to see that youwere terribly disappointed to find merely a hermit when you had hoped totrail a sheep-rustler. Confess now, you are disappointed, aren't you?"

  Miss Bayley insisted that the boy look at her, and when he did, shefound herself puzzled at the glow that his eager eyes held. But, beforeshe could question him further, the lad was saying, "Miss Bayley,teacher, the old hermit said he wished he had something to read, andthat's why I came over this morning. After school this afternoon he'scoming halfway down the trail, and I'm going half-way up, and I said I'dask you to loan me a book for him."

  "Oho, so your old hermit can read! Well, I'm glad to hear that." Thenthe girl-teacher turned toward the book-shelves as she saidmeditatively, "I wonder what kind of books old hermits like best. Oneabout snakes, do you suppose? I sent for one after Mrs. EnterpriseTwiggly told me that it was hard for a tenderfoot to tell a stick from asnake just at first. Now, whenever I go out, I take along the book, butas yet I haven't met a snake."

  "No'm, you're not likely to," Ken said; "not till spring comes again."

  While he spoke the boy's eyes roved about, and suddenly he saw a largevolume lying on the window-seat. In it was a mark, for indeed, it wasthe book Josephine Bayley had been reading but the evening before.

  Seizing it, he read the title, then lifted an eager face. "Oh, teacher,this one will be just right if you can spare it."

  The tone of the young woman expressed her mingled surprise and doubt."Why, no, Ken, an old hermit would not care for Wells."

  But the boy persisted, "Yes'm, teacher, he would. Rattlesnake Sam saidhe liked history best."

  "Very well, dear," Miss Bayley replied meekly. Then she added, "Supposeyou take along this new current-events magazine that just cameyesterday. Perhaps your old hermit would like that, too."

  "Oh, thank you, teacher, Miss Bayley!" How the red-brown eyes wereglowing! "An' I'll tell him that you sent 'em, and he'll be just ever socareful of them."

  "I'm sure that he will. Good-by, my boy." Then for a moment the girlstood in the open doorway, watching the bare brown legs that fairly flewdown the trail. Turning back to complete the preparation of herbreakfast, she found herself trying to picture what the old hermitlooked like. "Perhaps he is some dry-as-dust professor, who is studyingfossils and rocks. He probably had a long gray beard, a leathery,wrinkled face, and kindly blue eyes that are near-sighted." Then shesighed. Perhaps even Miss Bayley was a little disappointed that thebuilder of the campfire that had so interested her had proved to be soold and fogyish. "Well, what does it matter? I probably shall never seehim," she thought.