by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HANK BROWN PROVES THAT HE CAN READ TRACKS
To begin with, Kate knew Mrs. Singleton Corey, just as well as apassably popular elocutionist may expect to know one of the recognizedleaders of society and club life. Kate had recited at open meetings ofthe clubs over which Mrs. Singleton Corey had presided with thatsmiling composure which was so invulnerable to those without thefavored circle. Kate had once talked with Mrs. Singleton Corey for atleast five minutes, but she was not at all certain that she would beremembered the next time they met. She would like very much to beremembered, because an elocutionist's success depends so much upon therecognition which society gives to her personality and her talents.
Now, here was Jack Corey hiding in her very dooryard, one might say;and his mother absolutely distracted over him. How could she make anyclaim to human sympathy for a mother's sorrow if she withheld themessage that would bring relief? She was astonished that Marion hadbeen so thoughtless as never once to think of the terrible distress ofMrs. Singleton Corey. Of course, she had promised--but surely thatdid not exclude the boy's mother from the solace of knowing where hewas! That would be outrageous! Very carefully she sounded Marion uponthe subject, and found her unreasonable.
"Why, Jack would murder me if I told his mother! I should say Iwouldn't tell her! Why, it was because his mother was going to be somean about it and turn against him, that Jack ran away! He'd go back,if it wasn't for her--he said so. He'd rather go to jail than faceher. Why, if I thought for a minute that you'd take that stand, Inever would have told you, Kate! Don't you _dare_--" Then Mariondropped a saucer that she was wiping, and when her consternation overthe mishap had subsided she awoke to the fact that Kate had droppedthe subject also and had gone to read her limp little _Sonnets fromthe Portuguese_, that Marion never could see any sense in.
Marion must have had a remarkably trustful nature, else she would havebeen suspicious. Kate was not paying any attention to what she read.She was mentally rounding periods and coining new phrases of sympathythat should not humiliate but draw close to the writer the soul ofMrs. Singleton Corey when she read them. She was planning the lettershe fully intended to write. Later that evening, when Marion wascurled up in bed with a book that held her oblivious to unobtrusivedeeds, such as letter-writing, Kate put the phrases and the carefullyconstructed sentences upon a sheet of her thickest, creamieststationery. She did not feel in the slightest degree disloyal toMarion or to Jack. Hot-headed, selfish children, what did they knowabout the deeper problems of life? Of course his mother must be told.And of course, Kate was the person who could best write so difficult aletter. So she wrote it, and explained just how she came to know aboutJack. But the professor was a conscientious man. He believed that theauthorities should be notified at once. Jack Corey was a fugitive fromthe law, and to conceal the knowledge of his whereabouts would benothing short of compounding a felony. It was thoughtful to write hismother, of course. But duty demanded that the chief of police in LosAngeles should be notified also, and as speedily as possible. ByGeorge, the case warranted telegraphing the news!
Now, it was one thing to write sympathetically to a social leader thather wayward son has been found, but it is quite another thing to turnthe wayward son over to the police. Kate had not considered the moraluprightness of the professor when she showed him the letter, but shemanaged the difficulty very nicely. She pleaded a little, andflattered a little, and cried a good deal, and finally persuaded theprofessor's conscience to compound a felony to the extent of writingFred instead of wiring the chief of police. Fred could notify theauthorities if he chose--and Kate was wise enough to pretend that shewas satisfied to leave the matter in Fred's hands.
She thought it best, however, to add a postscript to her letter,saying that she feared for Jack's safety, as the authorities had begunto be very inquisitive and hard to put off; but that she would do allin her power to protect the poor boy. She did not feel that it wouldbe wise to write Fred, because the professor would think she wasworking against him and would be angry. Besides, she knew that itwould be of no use to write Fred. He would do as he pleased anyway; healways did.
In the face of a keen wind the professor started down the mountain toleave the letters at Marston with the agent, who was very obliging andwould see that they were put on the "down" train that evening.
Marion did not see any sense in his going away that day, and she toldKate so very bluntly. With the professor gone she could not meet Jackand have those broiled bear steaks, because some one had to stay withKate. When Kate suggested that she have Jack come to the cabin withhis bear steaks, she discovered that she could not do that either. Shewas afraid to tell Jack that Kate knew. Of course, it was allright--Kate had promised faithfully never to tell; but Jack wasawfully queer, lately, and the least little thing offended him. Hewould refuse to see that it was the best to take Kate into the secret,because it gave Marion more freedom to do things for his comfort. Hewould consider that she had been tattling secrets just because shecould not hold her tongue, and she resented in advance his attitude.Guiltily conscious of having betrayed him, she still believed that shehad done him a real service in the betrayal.
It was a complicated and uncomfortable state of mind to be in, andKate's state of mind was not much more complacent. She also had brokena promise and betrayed a trust, and she also believed she had done itfor the good of the betrayed. To their discomforting sense of guiltwas added Marion's disappointment at not meeting Jack, and Kate'ssprained ankle, which was as swollen and painful as a sprained ankleusually is. They began by arguing, they continued by reminding eachother of past slights and injuries, they ended by speaking plaintruths that were unpalatable chiefly because they were true. When theprofessor tramped home at sundown he walked into an atmosphere of icysilence. Kate and Marion were not on speaking terms, if you please.
The next day was cold and windy, but Marion hurried the housework in away that made Kate sniff disgustedly, and started out to signal Jackand bring him down to their last meeting place. Flash after flash shesent that way, until the sun went altogether behind the clouds and shecould signal no more. Not a glimmer of an answering twinkle could shewin from the peak. The most she did was to stimulate old Mike to thepoint of mumbling wild harangues to the uneasy pines, the gist ofwhich was that folks better look out how they went spyin' around after_him_, an' makin' signs back and forth with glasses. They better lookout, because he had good eyes, if Murphy didn't have, and theycouldn't run over _him_ and tromp on him.
He was still gesticulating like a bear fighting yellow-jackets whenMarion walked past him, going up the trail. She looked at him andsmiled as she went by, partly because he looked funny, waving his armsover his head like that, and partly by way of greeting. She nevertalked to Mike, because she could not understand anything he said. Shedid not consider him at all bright, so she did not pay much attentionto him at any time; certainly not now, when her mind was dividedbetween her emotions concerning Jack and her fresh quarrel with Kate.
Mike struck his axe into a log and followed her, keeping in the brushjust outside the trail. His lips moved ceaselessly under his ragged,sandy mustache. Because Marion had smiled when she looked at him, hecalled her, among other things, a she-devil. He thought she hadlaughed at him because she was nearly ready to have him hanged. Mariondid not look back. She was quite certain today that Kate would notfollow her, and the professor was fagged from yesterday's trampthrough the snow. She hurried, fully expecting that Jack had gone downearly to the meeting place and was waiting for her there.
Mike had no trouble in keeping close to her, for the wind blewstrongly against her face and the pines creaked and mourned overhead,and had he called to her she would scarcely have heard him. She leftthe road at the top of the hill and went across to the gully whereKate had sprained her ankle. Today Marion did not trouble to choosebare ground, so she went swiftly. At the top of the gully where Jackhad met her before, she stopped, her eyes inquiring of every thicketnear her. She wa
s panting from the stiff climb, and her cheeks tingledwith the cold. But presently she "who-whoed" cautiously, and a figurestepped out from behind a cedar and came toward her.
"Oh, there you--oh!" she cried, and stopped short. It was not JackCorey at all, but Hank Brown, grinning at her while he shifted hisrifle from the right hand to the left.
"Guess you thought I was somebody else," he drawled, coming up to herand putting out his hand. "Pretty cold, ain't it? Yuh travelin' orjust goin' somewheres?" He grinned again over the ancient witticism.
"Oh, I--I was just out for a walk," Marion laughed uneasily. "Whereare you going, Mr. Brown?"
"Me, I'm travelin' fer my health. Guess you aim t' git walkin' enough,comin' away over here, this kind of a day."
"Why, I hike all over these mountains. It gets lonesome. I just walkand walk everywhere."
Grinning, Hank glanced down at her feet. "Yes, I've seen lots oftracks up around this way, and up towards Taylor Kock. But I neverthought they were made by feet as little as what yours are."
"Why, forevermore! I suppose I ought to thank you for that. I makepretty healthy looking tracks, let me tell you. And I don't claim allthe tracks, because so many hunters come up here."
Hank looked at her from under his slant eyebrows. "Guess they's somethat ain't crazy about huntin' too," he observed shrewdly. "Fellerthat had the lookout last summer, guess he hangs out somewhere aroundhere, don't he? Must, or you wouldn't be calling him. Got a claim,maybe."
"Why do you think so? I go all over these hills, and I--"
"I was kinder wonderin'," said Hank. "I guess you must know 'im purtywell. I just happened to notice how clost them two sets of tracks are,over by that big tree. Like as if somebody with kinda little feet hadstood around talking to a feller for quite a spell. I kinda make astudy of tracks, you see--'cause I hunt a good deal. Ever studytracks?"
"Why, no--" Marion's smile became set and superficial. "I do wishyou'd teach me, Mr. Brown."
"Well, come on over here and I'll show yuh somethin'." He reached overand laid his hand on her arm, and after an involuntarily shrinking,Marion thought it wisest to let it pass. Very likely he did not meananything at all beyond eagerness to show her the tracks. Why in theworld had they forgotten to be careful, she wondered. But it was hardto remember that this wilderness was not really so untrodden as itlooked when she and Jack found themselves alone in some remote spot.She went fearfully, with uneasy laughter, where Hank led. They stoppedbeside the tree where she and Jack had talked the other day. Hankpointed down at the telltale snow.
"It's dead easy to read tracks," he drawled, "when they's fresh andplain as what these are. They's four cigarette butts, even, to showhow long the feller stood here talkin' to the girl. And behind thetree it's all tromped up, where he waited fer her to come, mostlikely. You kin see where his tracks comes right out from behind thetree to the place where they stood talkin'. An' behind the tree thereain't no cigarette butts a-tall--an' that's when a feller mostgenerally smokes--when he's passin' the time waitin' fer somebody. An'here's a string--like as if it had been pulled offn a package an'throwed away. An' over there on that bush is the paper the string wastied aroun'--wind blowed it over there, I guess." He waded through thesnow to where the paper had lodged, and picked it up. "It's even got apos'mark onto it," he announced, "and part of the address. It musta'been quite a sizable package, 'cause it took foteen cents to send itfrom Los Angeles to Miss Marion--"
"Why, what do you know about that!" cried Marion abruptly, bringingher hands together animatedly. "All that's left of my opera fudge thatone of the girls sent me!" She took the paper and glanced at itruefully. "I remember now--that was the time Fred was sure he'd geta--" she stopped herself and looked at him archly--"a jack-rabbit. AndI said I'd come out and help him carry it home. But he didn't haveany luck at all--why, of course, I remember! Meeting the professorwith the mail, and bringing the candy along to eat if we gothungry--and we did too. And Fred hid behind the tree and scaredme--why, Mr. Brown, I think you're perfectly wonderful, to figure thatall out just from the tracks! I should think you'd be a detective. I'msure there isn't a detective in the country that could beatyou--really, they are stupid alongside of such work as this. But Ihope the tracks won't tell you what Fred said about not gettingthe--er--the rabbit he shot at!" She laughed up into his face. "Youmight tell," she accused him playfully, "and get us all into trouble.I'm awfully afraid of you, Mr. Brown. I am really."
Hank Brown could read tracks fairly well, but he could not read womenat all. His puzzled gaze went from Marion's laughing face to thetracks in the snow; from there to the paper in his hand; to the tree,and back again to her face.
"The man's tracks went back towards Taylor Rock," he drawled out halfapologetically. "That's what made me kinda think maybe--"
"Oh, you know that, too! You know how he said he was going up thereand see if he couldn't run across a bear before sundown, and for me togo straight home. And I'll bet," she added breathlessly, "you cantell me exactly where it was that Kate waited for me across thegulley, and which ankle it was that she sprained so I had to almostcarry her back to the house, and--why, I wouldn't be one bit surprisedif you could tell me what I put on it!"
"No," Hank confessed feebly, "I guess I couldn't just figure all thatout, not offhand like."
"But you knew about Fred forgetting his cigarettes, and about mybringing him some so he wouldn't be grouchy all the way home," Marionreminded him demurely. "I--I do think you are the cleverest boy!"
That finished Hank. Never within his recollection had a young woman somuch as hinted that she thought him wonderful or clever. Besides, Hankwas well past thirty, and it tickles a man of that age to be called aboy.
He began to leer at her with amorous eyes when he spoke, and he beganto find frequent occasions for taking hold of her arm. He managed tomake himself odious in the extreme, so that in sheer self-defenseMarion made haste to bring his thoughts back to Jack.
"Did you say that lookout man has a claim up here somewhere?" Shestarted back to the road, Hank keeping close to her heels.
"I dunno--I just said maybe he had. He's up here, I know that--an' youknow it, too." He took her arm to help her up the hill, and Marionfelt as though a toad was touching her; yet she dared not show tooplainly her repulsion for fear of stirring his anger. She had afeeling that Hank's anger would be worse than his boorish gallantry."I figure he's on the dodge. Ain't no other reason why he ain't neverbeen to town sence I packed him up to the lookout station las' spring.'F he had a claim he'd be goin' to town sometime, anyway. He'd go into record his claim, an' he ain't never done that. I'll bet," headded, walking close alongside, "you could tell more'n you let on.Couldn't you, ay?"
"I could, if I knew anything to tell." Marion tried to free her armwithout actually jerking it, and failed.
"But you don't, ay? Say, you're pretty cute. What'll yuh give me if Itell yuh what I do think?"
The fool was actually trying to slip his arm around her without beingtoo abrupt about it; as if he were taming some creature of the wildwhich he wished not to frighten. Marion was drawing herself together,balancing herself to land a blow on his jaw and then run. She believedshe could outrun him, now that they were in the trail. But at thatmoment she caught sight of a figure slinking behind a stump, and sheexclaimed with relief at the sight.
"Why, there's Mike over there--I was wishing--I wanted to ask him--oh,Mike! Mike!" She pulled herself free of Hank's relaxing fingers anddarted from the trail, straight up the park-like slope of the giantpines. "Mike! Wait a minute, Mike. I was looking for you!"
It was an unfortunate sentence, that last one. Mike stopped longenough to make sure that she was coming, long enough to hear what shesaid. Then he ducked and ran, lumbering away toward a heavyoutcropping of rock that edged the slope like a halibut's fin. Marionran after him, glancing now and then over her shoulder, thankfulbecause Hank had stayed in the trail and she could keep the great treetrunks between them.
At the rock wall,
so swift was Marion's pursuit, Mike turned at bay,both hands lifted over his head in a threatening gesture. "Don't yuhchase me up," he gobbled frenziedly. "Yuh better look out now! Don'tyuh think yuh can take _me_ and hang me for a spy--you're a spyyourself--You look out, now!" Then he saw that Marion kept on coming,and he turned and ran like a scared animal.
Though she could not understand what he said, nevertheless Marionstopped in sheer astonishment. The next moment Mike had disappearedbetween two boulders and was gone. Marion followed his tracks to therocks; then, fearful of Hank, she turned and ran down the slope thatseemed to slant into Toll-Gate Basin. Hank could track her, of course,but she meant to keep well ahead of him. So she ran until she mustclimb the next slope. Once she saw Mike running ahead of her throughthe trees. She wondered what ailed him, but she was too concerned overher own affairs to give him much thought. Hank called to her; heseemed to be coming after her, and she supposed he would overtake herin time, but she kept on through brush and over fallen logs halfburied in the snow that held her weight if she was careful. And whenshe was almost ready to despair of reaching the open before Hank, shesaw through the trees the little pasture with its log fence. Mike wasgoing across to his cabin, still running awkwardly.
Marion ploughed through the drifts in the edge of the timber andslowed thankfully to a walk when she reached the corner of the fence.Across the flat the cabin stood backed against the wall of heavyforest. Hank would not dare come any farther--or if he did he would becareful not to offend. She walked on more slowly, pulling herself backto composure before she went in to face the critical, censuring eyesof Kate.