Silas Strong 34

Silas Strong 34

While the furniture was being thrown out-ofdoors she got ready to go.

In the heart of Sinth indignation had supplanted sorrow. It was in

her countenance and the vigor of her foot-fall and in the way that she

filled and closed and handled her satchel. Some of the brawny woodsmen

stood looking as she and the children came out-of-doors--a solemn-faced

little company. Something from the hearts of the men made Sinth touch

her eyes with her handkerchief. Then a curious thing happened. Some of

the lumber-jacks dropped their saws and axes.

 

Those people could forgive much in "a good fellow"--they could forgive

almost any infamy, it would seem, but the stony heart. Let one do a mean

thing and rouse their quick sympathies a little and their oaths were as

a deadly, fateful curse upon him. They never forgot the tear of sympathy

or the wrath of resentment.

 

The sorrow of the weak now seemed to touch the hearts of the strong. The

children, seeing the tears of their aunt as she turned for a last look

at her home, followed slowly with an air of great dejection. Then a

strange pathos rose out of their littleness, and an ancient law seemed

to be writ upon the faces of the men: "Whoso shall offend one of these

little ones which believe in Me, it were better for him that a millstone

were hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depth of the

sea."

 

A murmur of disapproval arose, and suddenly one voice blared a sacred

name coupled and qualified with curious adjectives--jumped up, livin',

sufferin', eternal--as if it would be most explicit.

 

"Boys," the voice added, "I can't see no woman ner no childern treated

that way."

 

A man took the satchel out of Sinth's hand.

 

"You stay here," said he. "We won't stan' fer this."

 

Another burly woodsman had lifted little Sue in his arms.

 

"I'm goin' down the trail to wait fer Silas," said Sinth, brokenly.

 

She put out her hand to take the satchel.

 

"We'll carry it an' the childern too," said the woodsman, whose voice,

which had been harsh and profane, now had a touch of gentleness. They

made their way down the trail in silence.

 

"He better try t' be a statesman," said one of the escort. "He ain't fit

t' be a bullcook."

 

They passed a second gang with horses and a big jumper bearing supplies

for the camp. The Emperor had surrendered; the green hills were taken.

Half a mile or so from the camp Sinth halted.

 

"I'll wait here, thank ye," said she.

 

With offers of assistance the men left them and returned.

 

All through the night Sinth had been thinking of their new trouble and

was in a way prepared for the worst. But now, as she was leaving forever

the old, familiar trees and the still water she sat down for awhile and

covered her face. Already the saws had begun their work. She could hear

them gnawing and hissing and the shouts and axes of the woodsmen. Socky

and Sue came near their aunt and stood looking at her, their

cheeks tear-stained, their sympathy now and then shaking them with

half-suppressed sobs. The reason for their departure and for the coming

of the woodsmen they were not able to understand. Zeb lay lolling on his

stomach, bored, but, like his master, hoping for better times.

 

"Aunt Sinthy--you 'fraid?" Sue ventured to ask, and her doll hung limp

from her right hand.

 

Socky felt his sword and looked up into the face of his aunt.

 

"Where we goin'?" he asked, with another silent sob.

 

"Pon my soul, I dunno," Sinth answered, wearily.

 

"Don't you be 'fraid," he said, waving his sword manfully.

 

Sinth took her knitting out of the satchel and sat down comfortably on a

bed of leaves. Zeb began to growl and run around them in a circle,

like the cheerful jester that he was. It seemed as if he were trying

to remind them that, after all, the situation was not hopeless. He

continued his gyrations until Socky and Sue joined him. Soon the big

trees began falling and their thunder and the hoots of the "briermen"

echoed far. The children came to their aunt.

 

"What's that?" they asked, with awe in their faces.

 

"The trees," Sinth answered, solemnly. "They're a-mowin' of 'em down."

 

In a moment, thinking of the young man who had heartlessly put her out,

she added:

 

"I guess he'll find he's hurt himself more'n he has us."

 

"Who?" Socky asked.

 

"That mehopper."

 

The children turned with a look of interest.

 

"What's a mehopper?" Socky asked.

 

Sinth sat looking thoughtfully at her knitting.

 

"He steals folks' albums," said Sue, confidently, "an' he can run like a

deer."

 

"Ain't a bit like a deer," Sinth responded. "He can't go nowhere but

down-hill--that's why ye always find him in low places--an' he's so

'fraid folks won't see him that he swears an' talks about himself."

 

Sue looked at her aunt as if she thought her a woman of wonderful parts.

 

"He better look out for the Sundayman," Sinth continued.

 

"Who's the Sundayman?" they both asked.

 

"He's a wonderful hunter an' he ketches all the wicked folks," Sinth

answered. "An' them that swears he makes 'em into mehoppers, an' them

that does cruel things he turns their hearts into stones, an' them that

steals he takes away everything they have, an' if anybody lies he makes

a fool of 'em so they b'lieve their own stories, an' he takes an' marks

the face of every one he ketches so if ye look sharp ye can always tell

'em."

 

In a moment they heard some one coming down the trail. It was young Mr.

Migley who suddenly had found himself in the midst of a small rebellion.

Half his men had threatened to "histe the turkey" unless he brought

back the "woman and the kids." It was not their threat of quitting that

worried him, however--it was a consequence more remote and decisive.

 

"Miss Strong, I was hot under the collar," he began. "I didn't mean to

put you out. I want you to come back and stay as long as you like. We

can spare you one of the cabins."

 

"No, sir," Sinth answered, curtly.

 

"All right," said he, "you're the doctor."

 

In a moment she asked, "What you goin' t' do with them sick folks that's

camped over at Robin?"

 

"I won't hurry 'em," said he; "but they'll have t' git out before long."

 

"It's a shame," Sinth answered. "You oughto hev consumption an' see how

you'd like it."

 

"There are plenty of hotels east of here."

 

"But they're poor folks an' can't afford to pay board, even if they'd

let 'em in, which they wouldn't."

 

"I can't help it--we've got to get these logs down to the river before

snow flies--it's business."

 

With him that brief assertion was the end of many disputes. They were

few that even dared question the authority of the old tyrant whom Silas

had called Business.

 

The young man began to walk away. Sinth sent a parting shot after him.

 

"It's business," said she, "to think o' nobody but yerself."

 

It was long past mid-day when Silas came with the ox. He stood

listening, his hands upon his hips, while Sinth related the story of

their leaving camp and of Migley's effort to bring them back.

 

"S-Sawed himself off," said Strong, with a smile. "You s-see." The

dethroned Emperor turned, suddenly, and drew a line across the trail

with the butt of his ox-whip.

 

"All t-toe the s-scratch," he demanded, soberly.

 

He led Sinth and Sue forward and stopped them with their toes on the

line. He motioned to Socky, who took his place by the others. Zeb sat

in front of them. The boy seemed to wonder what was coming. His fingers

were closed but his thumbs stood up straight according to their habit

when the boy's heart was troubled.

 

"Th-thumbs down," Strong commanded.

 

He surveyed his forces with an odd look of solemnity and playfulness.

 

"S. Strong has been app'inted W-warden o' Rainbow V-valley," said the

exiled Emperor. "F-forward march." His command was followed by a brief

appeal to the ox.

 

"Purty good luck!" Sinth exclaimed, with a look of satisfaction. "But

they's a lot o' pirates over there--got t' look out fer 'em."

 

"They'll m-move," said Strong, as if he had no worry about that.

 

Slowly they went up the trail and soon reentered Lost River camp. The

young lumberman saw them coming and went off into the woods.

 

Some men, who had been at work near, gathered about the Emperor and

offered to stand by him as long as he wished to remain. Strong shook his

head. "W-we got t' g-go," he stammered. He looked sadly at the fallen

tree-trunks--at the door-yard, now full of brush. "D-don't never w-want

t' s-see this place ag'in," he muttered.

 

He brought the boat-jumper into camp and loaded it. Then with Sinth on

the bow seat and Socky and Sue behind her they set out, the men cheering as they moved away.