The Promise Read online

  CHAPTER XXXV

  A HUNTING PARTY

  H. D. Appleton, millionaire lumberman, sighed contentedly as he addedcream to his after-dinner coffee. He glanced toward his wife, who wassmiling at him across the table.

  "Oh, you can drink yours black if you want to, little girl," hegrinned; "but, remember 'way back when we were first married and I wasbossing camps for old Jimmie Ferguson, and we lived in log shacks 'wayup in the big woods, I used to say if we ever got where we could havecream for our coffee, I'd have nothing else to ask for?

  "Well, to this day, drinking cream in my coffee is my idea of theheight of luxury. This is all right, and I enjoy it, too, I suppose."He indicated with a wave of his black cigar the rich furnishings, theheavy plate and cut-glass that adorned the dining-room. "But, somehow,nothing makes me feel _successful_ like pouring real cream into mycoffee."

  The gray-haired "little girl" laughed happily.

  "You never have quite grown up, Hubert," she replied. "Did you have ahard trip, dear? The three weeks you have been away have seemed likethree months to me."

  "No, no! I had a good trip. It looked rather hopeless at first, tryingto establish a new camp, with no one really capable of running it; butjust at the last minute--You remember the man I told you about lastfall--the young fellow who throttled that scoundrel after the wreck inthe Chicago railroad yards, and who refused to tell me his name untilafter he had made good?"

  "Yes--he was drowned last spring, wasn't he? Poor boy, I have oftenwondered who he was--a gentleman, you said?"

  "By gad, he's more than a gentlemen--he's a _man_! And he wasn'tdrowned at all. Got rescued somehow by an old squaw and her daughter.His leg was broken, and when he got well he stayed in the woods andlooked after the camp all summer; and not only that, he recoveredfifty-two bird's-eye maple logs that had been stolen by some of my ownmen.

  "He found me in Creighton, and I made him boss of the new camp. He's awinner, and the men will work for him till they drop."

  "Oh, by the way, Hubert," said Mrs. Appleton. "Mr. Sheridan called up aday or two ago and wanted to know when you would return. He said youand he had planned a deer-hunt this fall."

  "Yes; we'll go about the first of the month. It's been a good whilesince Ross Sheridan and I have had a hunt together; not since the olddays on the Crow Wing. Remember the time Ross and I got lost, andnearly scared you womenfolks to death?"

  "Indeed I do. I never will forget that blizzard, and those three awfuldays--we had been married only six months, and Mary Sheridan and I werethe only women in the camp.

  "I remember how good all the men were to us--telling us you were in nodanger, and not to worry--and all during the storm they were searchingthe woods in squads. Oh, it was awful! And yet----" Her voice trailedinto silence, and she stared a long time into the open fire that blazedin the huge fireplace.

  "And yet, what, little girl," asked Appleton, smiling fondly uponher--"what are you thinking about? Come, tell me."

  She turned her eyes toward him, and the man detected a wistful look inthem.

  "I was thinking, dear, of how happy we were those three years we spent'way up in the timber while you were getting your start. Not that wehaven't always been happy," she hastened to add, "because we have. Wecouldn't have been happier unless--unless--some children had come. But,dear, those days when we were so poor and had to work so hard, andevery dollar counted--and we had to do without things we both wanted,and sometimes things we really needed.

  "And, oh, Hubert dear, do you remember the organ? And how long it tookus to save up the sixty dollars? And how I cried half the night forpure joy when you brought it home on the ox-sled? And how I used toplay in the evenings, and the Sheridans were there, and the men wouldcome and listen, and their big voices would join in the singing, andhow sometimes a man would draw a rough sleeve across his eyes when hethought no one was looking--do you remember?"

  "Yes, yes, yes--of course I remember!" The lumberman's voice wassuspiciously gruff. "Seems almost like another world." His wifesuddenly stretched her arms towards the open fire:

  "Oh, Hubert, I want to go back!"

  "What?"

  "Yes, dear, just once more." Appleton saw the tears in her eyes. "Iwant to smell the fragrance of the pine woods--and sit on the thickpine-needles--and cook over an open fire! Bacon and trout andcoffee--yes, and no _real cream_, either!" She smiled at him throughher tears. "Canned milk, and maybe some venison steaks.

  "I want to borrow your pocket-knife and dig out spruce gum and chew it,with the little bits of bark in it," she went on, "and I won't promisenot to 'pry,' with it, either. I hope I do break the blade! Do youremember that day, and how mad you were?

  "I want to see the men crowd into the grub-shack, and hear the sound ofthe axes and saws and the rattle of chains and the crashing of bigtrees. I want to see the logs on the rollways; and, Hubert, you won'tthink I'm awful, will you, dear, but I want to--just once more in mylife--I want to hear a big man _swear_!"

  H. D. Appleton stared at his wife in blank amazement, and then,throwing back his head, roared with laughter.

  "Well, you sure will, little girl, if you try to slip any canned milkinto _my_ coffee!"

  His wife regarded him gravely.

  "I am not joking, Hubert. Oh, can't you see? Just once more I _must_have a taste of the old, hard, happy days--can't I?"

  "Why, Margaret, you don't really mean that you want to go into thewoods--seriously?"

  "Yes, I do mean just exactly that--seriously!"

  Appleton tugged at his mustache and puckered his forehead.

  "We might make up a party," he mused. "I'll speak to Ross in themorning."

  The little gray-haired woman stepped lightly around the table, and,seating herself on his lap, captured his big fingers in her own.

  "How many times must I tell you not to pull your mustache, dear? Now,listen; I have a plan. There will be Mary Sheridan and Ross and EthelManton--you know she promised us a visit this fall, and I expect herany day now. A trip into the woods will do her a world of good, poorgirl. She has had lots of responsibility thrust upon her since brotherFred died, with young Charlie to look out for, and the care of that bighouse.

  "Mrs. Potter, you know she lives next door to Ethel, writes me that shedoes not believe the girl is happy--that this St. Ledger, or whateverhis name is, that she is reported engaged to, is not the kind of a manfor Ethel at all--and, that she hasn't seemed herself for a year--someunhappy love affair--the man was a scamp, or something--so this tripwill be just what she needs. Charlie will be with her, of course, andwe can invite that young Mr. Holbrooke; you have met him, that niceyoung man--the VanNesses' nephew.

  "We will go away up into the big woods where you men can hunt to yourheart's delight; and we women will stay around the camp and do thecooking and smell the woods and chew spruce gum. Oh, Hubert, won't itbe just _grand_?"

  Appleton caught something of his wife's enthusiasm.

  "It sure will, little girl! But what's _he_ for?"

  "What is who for?"

  "This Holbrooke person. Where does he come in on this?"

  "Why, for Ethel, of course! Goose! Don't you see that if Ethel is nothappy--if she is not really in love with this St. Ledger--and shespends two or three weeks in the same camp with a nice young man likeMr. Holbrooke--well, there's no place like the woods for romance, dear;you see, I know. And he has money, too," she added.

  Appleton suddenly lifted his wife to her feet and began pacing up anddown the room.

  "Money!" he exclaimed. "He never earned a cent in his life."

  "But he is the VanNess heir!"

  "Old VanNess made his money selling corsets and ribbons."

  "Why, dear, what difference does that make? I am sure the VanNesses areamong----"

  "I don't care who they're among, or what they're among!" interruptedher husband. "We don't want any niece of ours marrying ribbons. Hold ona minute, let me think. By gad, I've got a scheme!"

  He continued to pace up an
d down the length of the room, puffingshortly upon his cigar and emitting emphatic grunts of satisfaction.

  "I've got it!" he exclaimed. "If you're bound to marry Ethel off wewill give her the chance to marry a _man_. Go ahead and make up theparty, but leave ribbons out of it. We will let Ethel rest up for a fewdays and then we will start--straight for the new camp. There is a_man_ there."

  "But," objected his wife, "you know nothing about him. You don't knoweven his name."

  "What difference does that make? I know a good man when I see one. Iknow enough about him to know that he is good enough for Ethel or anyother woman. And, if he hasn't got a name now, by gad, he is makingone--up there in the big country!"

  "But he has no money."

  "No money! How much did we have when we were married? Why, little girl,you just got through saying that the happiest days we ever spent wereup there in the woods when money was so scarce that we knew the date onevery dollar we owned--and every scratch and nick on them--and thedimes and pennies too."

  The little woman smiled. "That is true, Hubert, but somehow----"

  "Somehow nothing! If we did it, these two can do it. They've got abetter chance than we had. I'm not going to live forever. I need apartner. I'm getting old enough to begin to take things easier--to stepaside and let a younger man shoulder the burden."

  He threw his arm lovingly about his wife's shoulders, and drew herclose. "We never had a son, sweetheart," he said gravely, "but if wehad I'd want him to be just like that boy. He is making good."

  Margaret Appleton looked up into her husband's eyes.

  "You haven't made many mistakes, dear," she whispered. "I hope he willmake good--for your sake and--maybe for Ethel's."