The Promise Page 47

  CHAPTER XLVI

  AN ANNOUNCEMENT

  Despite the handicap of the deep snow, results in the new camp werehighly satisfactory to Bill Carmody.

  Not a man in the crew but swore by the boss, and each day threw himselfinto the work with a will that made for success. And each night, as herolled into his bunk, not a man but knew that the boss himself had thatday worked harder than he.

  "Niver wuz such a crew in th' woods, miss," boasted Daddy Dunnigan oneafternoon as Ethel stood in the door of the cook-shack and watched theold man's preparation of the gigantic supper.

  "Oi've logged a bit, here an' there, an' always Oi've be'n where minwuz--but niver Oi've seed 'em buckle down an' tear out th' bone, wanday wid another, save in th' so'gerin' days av Captain Fronte McKim.

  "Th' same wuz th' boss's uncle, an' he's a McKim fr' th' sole av hisfeet to th' peak av his head, barrin' th' licker, an' th' min'll got'rough hell an' hoigh wather fer um, beggin' ye're pardon--an' heain't no dommed angel, nayther, beggin' ut ag'in, miss.

  "Ye sh'd see th' hand av poker he plays, an' th' beautiful swearin' avum, phwin things goes wrong! An' ye sh'd see um foight wanst! An' nowhe's gone an' poshted a foive per cint bonus av they bate Moncrossen'scut, an' uts loike handin' ut to 'em, 'cause he knows th' b'ys isalready doin' their dommedest, beggin' ye're pardon, miss.

  "Oi'll bet me winther's wages, come shpr-ring, we'll have Moncrossenshnowed undher dayper thin' yon smithy, an' they had to tunnel to foindut."

  The girl laughed happily and passed on with a great love in her heartfor Daddy Dunnigan and the big, rough men out in the timber who were"tearing out the bone" that _her_ man might make good.

  Day by day the black pyramids of the rollways lengthened, and theskidways were pushed farther and farther into the timber. And, of allthe men in the crew, none worked harder nor to better purpose thanStromberg, the big hulking Swede, whom Fallon had warned Bill was thebrains of Moncrossen's bird's-eye gang.

  Neither Bill nor the big swamper had ever alluded to that affair in thebunk-house upon the night of their first meeting, and it was with afeeling of surprise that the foreman looked up one evening as he satalone in the little office to see Stromberg enter and cross to hisside.

  The man lost no time in coming to the point.

  "Bill," he began, "I went up with Buck Moncrossen this summer to bringdown the bird's-eye. We found a pile of ashes where the logs shouldhave been. Moncrossen thinks Creed burned them--or let someone do it.

  "It was a crooked game, and I was in it as deep as any one. I ain'ttrying to beg off--but, I'd rather be square than crooked--and that'sthe truth. I ain't spent most of my life in the woods not to be able totell hardwood ashes from soft-wood, and I know you slipped one over onus.

  "You're going to make good in the woods. You'll be the big boss, someday. I expect to do time for my part in the bird's-eye game, and I'lltake all that's coming to me. And I won't snitch on the rest to get alighter sentence, either.

  "I know Appleton, and I know we'll get ours in the spring, but what Iwant to know is: when I get out, can I come to you for a job?"

  Bill rose from his chair and thrust a big hand toward the other.

  "Stromberg," he said, "you are no more a crook than I am. You threw inwith a bad bunch--that's all. Suppose we just forget the bird's-eyebusiness. You and Fallon are the two best men I've got.

  "We are going to beat Moncrossen this year, and every man in the crewhas got to help do it--and next winter--well, Mr. Appleton will have aneye peeled for a man to take Moncrossen's job--see?"

  The two big men shook hands, and as he made his way to the bunk-house,Stromberg wondered at the peculiar smile on the boss's lips as he said:

  "There are a hell of a lot of good men wasted because of a bad start.So-long."

  The weeks slipped rapidly by. The weather settled, keen and cold, withthe crew keyed to the highest pitch of efficiency.

  "Beat Buck Moncrossen!" became the slogan of the camp, and with thelengthening days it became apparent that a record cut was being bankedon the rollways.

  It was a wonderful winter for Ethel Manton. The spirit of the bigcountry entered her blood. More and more she loved the woods, andlearned to respect and admire the rough loyalty of the big men of thelogs.

  She had come to call most of them by name, as with a smile and a nod,or a wave of the hand, she passed them in the timber on her dailyexcursions in search of rabbits and ptarmigan. And not a man in thecrew but would gladly have fought to the last breath for "the boss'sgirl."

  And now the feel of spring was in the air. Each day the sun climbedhigher and higher, and the wind lost its sting. The surface of the snowsoftened by day, and high-piled white drifts settled slowly into soggymasses of saturated, gray slush.

  Bill figured that he had nearly fifteen million feet down when hecalled off his sawyers and ordered the clean-up. The nights remainedcold, freezing the surface of the sodden snow into a crust of excellentfooting, so that the day's work began at midnight and continued untilthe crust softened under the rays of the morning sun.

  The men laughed and sang and talked of the drive, and of the waterfrontdives of cities, whose calk-pocked floors spoke the shame of the men ofthe logs.

  But most of all they talked of the wedding. For as they sat at thesupper-table on the day the last tree fell, the boss entered,accompanied by the girl.

  In a few brief words he told them that he was proud of every man jackof them; that they were the best crew that ever came into the woods,and that they had more than earned the bonus.

  He told them that he realized he was a greener, and thanked them fortheir loyalty and cooeperation, without which his first season as campforeman must have been doomed to failure.

  Cheer after cheer interrupted his words, and when he took Ethel by thehand and announced that they were soon to be married in that very roomand invited all hands to the wedding, their cheers drowned his voicecompletely.

  But when the girl tried to speak to them, choked in confusion, and withher eyes brimming with tears, extended both hands and gasped: "Oh, I--Ilove you all!" the wild storm of applause threatened to tear the rooffrom the log walls.

  It was Ethel's idea that they should be married in the woods. Her lovefor the wild country grew deeper with the passing days. She loved itall--the silent snow-bound forest, the virile life of the big camp withits moments of tense excitement, the mighty crash with which tall treestore through the branches of lesser trees to measure their length onthe scarred snow, the thrill of hunting wild things, and the longevenings when the rich tones of the graphophone fell upon her ears amidrough surroundings, like a voice from the past.

  But most of all she loved the long walks in the forest, in the deepgloom of moonlit nights with the weird, mysterious shadows all aboutthem as the big man at her side told her of his great love while theyplanned and dreamed of the future; and then returned to the littleoffice where she listened while he read aloud, pausing now and then tolight his black pipe and blow clouds of blue smoke toward the lowceiling.

  He had grown very close to her, and very dear, this big, impetuous boy,who had suddenly become a masterful man, and in whom she found each daysome new depth of feeling--some entirely unsuspected and unexplorednook of his character.

  Her doubts and fears had long since been thrust aside, and even theexistence of the Indian girl had been forgotten. And so it was thatwhen Ethel told Bill one evening she wished their wedding to take placein the camp, amid the scenes of their future hardships and happiness,he acquiesced gladly, and to the laughing outrage of her dignity pickedher up in his two hands and tossed her high in the air as he would havetossed a baby.

  And now the time of the wedding was very near. The clean-up wasfinished, and day by day they awaited the coming of Appleton andSheridan, and of Father Lapre, of the Rice Lake Mission.

  The men of the crew set about to make the event one long to beremembered in the Northland. Flowers were unobtainable, but a frame inthe form of a giant horses
hoe was constructed and covered over withpine-cones.

  A raid was made upon the oat-bin, and the oats sifted between thescales of the cones and moistened. The structure was placed near thestove in the bunk-house, and when the tiny, green shoots began toappear, woe to him who procrastinated in the closing of the door orneglected to tend fire when it was his turn!

  The walls of the grub-shack were completely hidden behindpine-branches, and festoons of brilliant red _bakneesh_ encircled theroom and depended from the chains of the big, swinging lamps.

  In the bunk-house the men busied themselves in the polishing ofbuck-horns for the fashioning of a wonderful chair in whose make-upwould be found neither nails nor glue, its parts being bound togetherby means of sinews and untanned buckskin thongs.

  The bateaux were set up and waiting at the head of the rollways. Thesnow of the forest slumped lower and lower, and innumerable icy rillsfound their way to the river over the surface of whose darkened,honeycombed ice flowed a shallow, slushy stream.

  Father Lapre arrived one morning, pink, smiling, and wet to the middle,having blundered onto thin ice in the darkness. The following morningSheridan and Appleton appeared with mysteriously bulging packs, andweary from their three nights' battle with the slippery, ice-crustedtote-road.