Chapter 9
IX. Lost in the Woods Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than that winter morning in the Maine woods. The white glory of the snow, the stealing pink and gold glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly rearing their heads aloft, and stretching out their heavily laden arms, all made a picture that filled with awe even the heart of the rough Bob Lucas, unregistered
guide and nominal lumberman, noted for his skill as hunter and poacher, and his queer mingling of honesty, law-breaking, piety, and profanity. No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was a part of it. He was in it. He belonged to this glorious morning. The morning belonged to him, and he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.
"'Branching candlesticks on the altar of the Lord,' he muttered, as he surveyed the trees, "'I feel like a vessel of grace. More's the pity I can't take on the actions of one.' He stood lounging in the cabin door, red-haired, long-nosed, unkempt, and stalwart. Inside were his two sons getting the breakfast, and the appetizing odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh air.
"'Hi, poacher, what's up with you?' he suddenly exclaimed, and his gaze went to a deer-hound of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing through the snow toward the cabin. The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and lifting toward him a countenance so bright with intelligence that it might almost be called human, opened his mouth and dropped something at his master's feet.
"'Hello, boys,' said the man, stepping inside the cabin. "'What in the name of creation's this? I call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't your mother wear aprons like it or something?' The two strapping lads in high boots and woolen shirts turned their red faces from the fireplace. "'Yes, siree,' said the taller of them, fingering the scrap of cotton, they call it
something like jingo. "'Gingham, you gull!' interposed his brother with a guffaw of laughter. I've seen it in the stores. Where'd you get it, pop?' Poacher fetched it. When I got out of my bunk this morning and opened the door, he put up that old muzzle of his and gave a sniff. Then off he sought. I knew he'd got something
on his mind. He's been running deer, and he found this on his way back. "'He's a beaut,' said the other lad, eyeing him admiringly. He's nosed out something. What'll you do, pop?' "'Swaller some breakfast and make tracks for Morse's camp.' "'Spose it was some person,' said the younger of the boys, uneasily.
"'Buy gum!' and the man suddenly smote his thigh. Suppose the old woman had run after us with something. Hustle on your coats, boys. Maybe it's your ma.' The faces of both boys had turned white and their hands were shaking. Seizing their coats they rushed out of the cabin. "'Pop, it wasn't bitter last night,' said the younger, in a hushed voice.
"'Shut up!' said his father irritably. And in profound silence the three proceeded through the wood in single file, following the dog, who, without excitement but with his dark face beaming with pleasure at being understood, rapidly led them over his own tracks of a few minutes previous. Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last the father, who was leading, made
a leap forward. There was a dark mound on the snow against a tree trunk, and dropping beside it he turned it over. "'Thank the Lord!' he ejaculated, while scratching and beating the snow away from it. "'It ain't what I feared.' "'Why, it's only a gal,' said one of the boys. Is she gone, Pop?'
"'Here, shake her up,' he replied. What's this she's curled round? A dog sure as thunder, and alive and warm. Merciful grindstones, look at him!' Immediately stepping out of wrappings, consisting of a small tippet and a shawl, was a little old dog, the most utter contrast to the handsome deer-hound that could have been imagined. The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gipy, and being a denizen of the woods made
the first overtures to friendship by politely touching him with the end of his muzzle. The smaller dog snapped at him. Whereupon the hound withdrew in dignified silence and watched his owners, who were making vigorous efforts to restore the benumbed girl. "'Her heart's beaten,' said Lucas, putting his hand on it. The dog lay there and kept it warm. "'Rub her feet. Rub harder,' he said to
his sons, while he himself began chafing Tilda Jane's wrists. "'She's just the age of your sister Minne. Suppose she was here stone-cold and half dead.' The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation, and presently a faint colour appeared in the cheeks, and the cold lips slightly moved. Lucas put his head down. "'What you sayin'? Dog, is it? He's all right. If you'd wrapped yourself more and
him less it might have been better. Yet I guess not. If it hadn't been for the dog you'd have been dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry her to that heap of logs of ours.' "'Pop, will one of us have to show her out?' said Joe, anxiously pressing beside him. "'Yep,' said his father. "'Here, strip off your coat and put it round her.' "'And I suppose I'll have to go, because I'm the youngest,' said the boy, bitterly.
"'No, sir, you're always doing dirty work. This time it'll be Zebedee.' Zebedee frowned and muttered that he wished girls would stay out of the woods. Then he tramped on beside his brother. "'Here, give me my gun,' said Lucas presently. "'Ewens is younger. You can carry the gal.' He had been carrying Tilda Jane over his shoulder, and now the little procession started again, this time with the boys bearing the semi-unconscious
burden. Gipy, squealing and complaining, followed behind as well as he was able, but finally becoming stuck in a drift gave a despairing yell and disappeared. Lucas turned around, went in the direction of the crooked tail sticking up from the snow, and pulling him out, contemptuously, took him under his arm. "'If you was my dog you'd get a bullet to eat. Howsomever you ain't, and I guess we'll have to keep you for the little gal.
Get on there, sons.' Two hours later Tilda Jane opened her eyes on a new world. Where had her adventures brought her this time? Had she died and gone to heaven? No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a string of very bad words uttered by someone near her. But she could not think about anything. A feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and slowly opening and shutting her eyes
she little by little allowed her surroundings to impress themselves upon her. She was very warm and comfortable. She was sitting on the floor, propped against the wall, by means of an overturned chair and blankets. A fire in an open fireplace blazed beside her. Gipy was making his toilet before this fire, and she was very happy. "'Here, sup this,' someone said, and languidly lifting her eyelids she saw a big red-haired
man bending over her. He was holding a cup to her lips. Coffee sweetened with molasses, that's what they used to have at the asylum, and with a faint smile and a feeble, "'Thank you, sir,' she slowly swallowed it. "'I was scared to give you any before,' he said gruffly. Thought you might choke. "'Here, give me some grub, sons.'
Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her mouth. It was followed by another morsel of something hot and savory, and speedily she felt new life in her veins. She could sit up now and look about her. "'Guess you can feed yourself,' said the man, going back to the table. "'Fall too, now. You most got to the end of your tether.'
Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in her hand, and began to eat with slow avidity, not disregarding the requests for tidbits from her dog, who occasionally paused for that purpose in his endeavours to lick himself dry. At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of the cabin where a man and two boys were seated at a rough table. These must be her rescuers. She had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not even her fear
of death had been able to keep her on her feet. She stopped eating. "'Who be you?' "'We be lumbermen when the fit takes us,' said the man shortly. "'Well,' said Tilda Jane, "'I guess—' Then she stopped, overpowered by intense feeling. "'I guess,' she went on finally, "'that there wouldn't have been much of me this
hadn't been for you coming.' "'Twasn't us,' said the man agreeably, "'twas poacher there.' And he indicated the dog under the table, who at the mention of his name rose and walked politely toward the girl. He looked at her and she looked at him. Then he took a step nearer and laid his muzzle on her shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he comprehended all that she wished
to say in relation to himself, and all that she felt in relation to the dog race in general. She laid her cheek against his velvet ear, then her arm stole around his neck. The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling embarrassed under her attention, he looked somewhat foolishly at his master, and appealingly licked Tilda Jane's cheek. As quick to understand him as he was to understand her, she released him, whereupon he lay down beside her and
put his handsome head on her lap. Gipy extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously, then, his short-sighted eyes discovering the presence of a rival, he advanced, snapping. The large dog generously averted his head, and Gipy, seeing that he was not to be dislodged, meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy back.
"'Yes, that's a boss dog,' the man went on. "'Search the state from Fort Kent to Kittery Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given me pointers many a time. Where you hail from, little girl?' "'I'm going to Sis-Casset,' she said, dreamily. Her mind was running back to the night before, and, unaware that she was holding a piece
of bacon poised on her fork, in tempting proximity to Poacher's nose, she stared intently at the fire. She had been near death. Had she been near the heaven that the matron and the lady-boards pictured, or would it have been the other place, on account of her disobedience? The soul that sinneth, it shall die. For whosoever shall keep the whole law and yet offend in
one point, he is guilty of all. Keep thyself pure. For without our dogs and sorcerers and murderers and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie, that meant without the city, the beautiful city of gold where her mother probably was, and many of her unknown relatives, and where all good matrons, orphans, and lady-boards went. I guess I'd been without, with no comfort but the dogs, she thought bitterly. And pushing
away her plate, she said aloud, "'I thank you kindly, but I can't swallow another morsel.' A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's inquiring muzzle had scented out the bacon and had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing that it was not intended for him, had gently but firmly taken it from him, and was walking about the cabin holding it aloft while Gippie
snarled at his heels. Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The greater matter of her soul's destiny was under consideration. "'Are you an extra good man?' she abruptly asked her host. He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over his face. Then his glance went to his boys.
"'What you say, sons?' The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye, and said uneasily, "'Course you be, Pop. Don't make game.' "'Make game,' repeated the man strangely. "'Make game.'
Then he laughed shortly, and made another onslaught on the bacon and bread. "'Cuz I'm looking for an extra good person,' went on Tilda Jane brusquely. "'Someone that won't blab, and that I can tell a story to.' "'While there ain't no extra good persons in the woods,' said her host, "'we be only ordinary. You better wait till you get out. What was you doing so far from
houses last night, little gal? Said to be in tucked snug in bed.' "'I might as well tell the truth,' she said helplessly. "'I'm tired of lies. I was running away from something. But whether my running was good or bad is what I can't make out.' "'While you're puzzling, you eat some more breakfast,' said the man, getting up and
putting another supply of bacon on her plate. "'You've got to call up strength to get out. Suppose you don't know you're some miles from sofas and pianos and easy chairs.' "'I didn't know where I was going,' she said apologetically, or what I was coming to. I just traveled on and on. Then I began to get queery, and I left the road. Think,
Sigh, they'll be all kind animals in the woods. Maybe I'll meet a nice black bear, and he'll say, "'Little girl, you're lost, and I'll lead you to my den. We'll be happy to have you and your little dog, and I'll not let no one eat him. And I'll give a big party and invite all the foxes and deer and bears and squirrels, because you're fond a wild beast, little girl.'
And it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, and there was a soft bed, and I'd just lay down and was going to sleep when I thought, maybe if I sleep some little bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, and he'll eat me up. And I felt just awful. Then I forgot everything till I woke up here. I guess I'm obliged to you.' The lumberman was about to reply to her when one of the boys ejaculated,
"'Hist, Pop! Look at Poacher!' End of chapter 9
