OUT OF THE WOODS 
 
 GEORGE P. FISHER, JR.
 
 8 3 2 E 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS 
 
 A ROMANCE OF CAMP LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE P. FISHER, JR. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY 
 1896
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 BY A. C. McCLURG AND CO. 
 A. D. 1896
 
 PS 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THOSE IN WHOSE 
 
 GENIAL FELLOWSHIP 
 I LEARNED TO LOVE THE WOODS. 
 
 G. P. F.. JR. 
 
 CHICAGO, JUNE, 1896. 
 
 1S00152
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ROBERT FERRIS lounged on the window- 
 seat of his quarters at the C Club 
 
 finishing his after-dinner cigar, and watched the 
 moon as it rose over Lake Michigan, giving a 
 touch of picturesqueness to Chicago's most unat 
 tractive harbor. He was perplexed, and the 
 cause lay in the telegram and the letter which he 
 held in his hand. The telegram, which was 
 from the manager of the Gloria mine, stated 
 that the feeling among the strikers was hourly 
 growing more serious, and urged him to come 
 at once. The letter was from his oldest friend, 
 Captain Philip Vinton, a retired naval officer, 
 saying that on the next day he would reach Chi 
 cago, where he was to join a party of friends for 
 a month's outing in the woods of northern 
 Michigan. 
 
 Ferris's father, Edward Ferris, also a naval 
 officer, had been killed in the early part of our 
 civil war by the bursting of a cannon. The same 
 7
 
 8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 accident had nearly cost Vinton his life, and had 
 so affected his eyesight that when peace came 
 and he wanted to enjoy the ample fortune that 
 he had inherited, he found no difficulty in get 
 ting retired from active service, while he devoted 
 himself more actively to his pet philanthropic 
 scheme the Sailor's Rest at Lynn. 
 
 Edward Ferris and Philip Vinton, in child 
 hood, had been like devoted brothers. They had 
 dreamed of the sea together, and had sailed 
 their toy boats in many a hotly contested re 
 gatta on the fish pond of the Vinton homestead 
 at the foot of the Kaaterskills. Together they 
 had hunted for the hidden treasures of Captain 
 Kidd and Hendrik Hudson, sharing in their 
 long tramps over the mountains the glory and 
 burden of a time-honored fowling-piece, with 
 which they vainly hoped to encounter the twelve- 
 tined buck that some seasons before had been 
 reported as seen thereabouts. Later they had 
 gone to the Naval Academy, and, happily for 
 them, made together the long cruise at the end 
 of their course. Upon their return each received 
 promotion, and then came their first long sep 
 aration, Vinton being sent to the South Atlantic 
 Squadron and Ferris being assigned to shore 
 duty at Newport. There Ferris married, and for 
 two years was the happiest of men; but his 
 young wife died when their little boy, Robert,
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 9 
 
 was less then a year old, and then, at Vinton's 
 urgent solicitation, he joined him on the " Mace 
 donian " as it was ordered to sail for Lisbon in 
 the fall of 1860. Vinton's happy companionship 
 was a God-send to poor Ferris, and served, as 
 nothing else could have done, to lift him from 
 the despondency into which he had sunk after 
 his wife's death. 
 
 Robert Ferris inherited from his father this 
 man's devoted friendship, and upon the death of 
 his grandmother while he was preparing for col 
 lege, made Vinton's house his home. As he had 
 elected to take the scientific course, with mining 
 engineering as a specialty, his summer vacations 
 were spent chiefly in the mountains of Montana 
 and Colorado, and the fine heads of elk and 
 deer that adorned the hallway of the club and 
 the dining-room of Vinton's home were ample 
 proof that his vacations had not been devoid of 
 sport. Indeed, it needed but a glance at the 
 hunting and fishing paraphernalia, which he 
 periodically rummaged over, to show that he was 
 a lover of the woods. This was another bond of 
 union between Ferris and Vinton, for the latter, 
 although a wretched rifle shot, was fond of 
 shooting and was a devoted angler. Next to 
 going on a hunting trip with " Uncle Phil," as 
 Ferris had always called Vinton, there was 
 nothing that he enjoyed more than talking over
 
 IO OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 past excursions and planning new ones with 
 him. And so it was that Ferris reached his 
 decision to take the midnight train for Keating, 
 near which the Gloria mine was located, with 
 a double feeling of regret that he would miss 
 meeting his dearest friend, whom he had not 
 seen for nearly six months, and would lose the 
 chance of talking over the prospective camping 
 trip, and of selecting with him from his own 
 abundant store of such things the choicest rifle 
 and the best assortment of trout flies, rods and 
 tackle. 
 
 When Ferris had decided that he could not 
 delay his departure until Vinton came, he busied 
 himself with packing, and then began collecting 
 such things as he thought Vinton might need 
 for his outing. While thus occupied there was 
 a knock at his door. 
 
 " Come in, Tom ; " he called from his store 
 room, recognizing the familiar rap, and as Tom 
 Moulton opened the door he added ; " You are 
 the very man I wanted to see." 
 
 Tom Moulton, as he was familiarly known to 
 all club-men, was a handsome fellow, six feet 
 tall, with a frankness of voice and manner and 
 an endless fund of good fellowship that made 
 him the most popular man of his set. 
 
 "I thought you might care to see me, Bob;" 
 he said, as he closed the door after him ; " and
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. II 
 
 at great sacrifice of my valuable time I have 
 come up here. In an evil moment I picked up 
 the 'Evening Journal ' in the reading-room, and 
 my eye caught these headlines : ' The great 
 strike at the Gloria mine ! ' ' Locked-out miners 
 threatening to destroy the shaft,' etc., etc. I 
 said to myself, 'That means that Bob Ferris will 
 go north to-night and will need the benefit of 
 my valuable advice as to the best method of 
 quelling a labor riot, and incidentally my assist 
 ance in getting his affairs in shape for the 
 journey.' So I have let the Thomas concert go, 
 and here I am, ready to make a martyr of my 
 self. Give me a cigar and tell me where to begin." 
 "Help yourself to a cigar, and sit down while 
 I tell you how you really can be of assistance. I 
 have just had a letter from Uncle Phil Vinton, 
 saying that he will be here in the morning en 
 route to northern Michigan where he is to take 
 a month's shooting and fishing. The dear old 
 fellow will probably bring an ancient Springfield 
 rifle, a muzzle-loading shot-gun and a dilapi 
 dated fishing rod, all resurrected from the 
 trumpery of his attic, and a book of moth-eaten 
 flies, if he remembers to bring any, which I 
 doubt. You know that when he gets anything 
 of the kind worth keeping he invariably sends it 
 to me. Now I want you to give him these 
 things I have laid out. Don't let him examine
 
 12 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the Winchester too closely, for if he sees that the 
 calibre is only forty, he will scorn it as a pop 
 gun, whereas it is large enough for anything 
 smaller than a grizzly. Insist upon his taking 
 this rod, and if he thinks it too light, you may 
 invent some convincing fiction, such as my hav 
 ing landed a tarpon with it on the gulf coast 
 last fall. There is no one so obstinate as an old 
 fisherman, and when he becomes attached to a 
 rod he is apt to consider it suitable for any fish 
 that swims." 
 
 " Can I use the same tarpon story in com 
 mending the flies? I don't wish to tax my im 
 agination too severely." 
 
 " Well, hardly. You need only show him his 
 own, which he has probably not seen since the 
 moths began their depredations. You must see, 
 too, that he takes this leather vest and brown 
 sweater, for the nights will be cold, and he is as 
 improvident as the cricket of the fable. After 
 he has agreed to take all of these, you can show 
 him the rest of the stuff in my store-room and 
 see that he has everything he may need." 
 
 " Don't you think that you had better provide 
 an old lady to go along and see that he is prop 
 erly wrapped up before he exposes himself to 
 the night air, and that the warming-pan is 
 heated to the right temperature before he goes 
 to bed?"
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 13 
 
 " No, stupid. There are to be several women 
 in his party, I understand, and I will trust them 
 to look after the domestic arrangements." 
 
 " Are they young or old, Bob ? " 
 
 " I thought that would arouse your interest. 
 His letter says there are to be two young ladies 
 and a chaperon, and two men besides himself." 
 
 " Do you think they would like an extra man 
 myself, for instance? You know I have never 
 seen a deer outside the Zoo, and you have often 
 urged me to try an outing in the woods." 
 
 "You might ask him when he comes. 
 Frankly, I think such a party would please you 
 well, for I am sorry to say, you have not the first 
 instincts of a hunter. But the trip would give 
 you a taste of the woods without depriving you 
 of that essential to your existence female so 
 ciety. You could entertain the women while the 
 other fellows get the sport." 
 
 "Well, I like that. Can't you imagine a 
 camping trip pleasant if there happen to be a 
 girl in the party ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I must imagine the girl, also, Tom, 
 for I have never seen her." 
 
 "You will though some day, and when the 
 time comes, look out. For your sake, old man, 
 I trust that when you do find your Diana she 
 will recognize in you one worthy to follow her 
 hounds."
 
 14 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Thanks, Tom, but I shall not look for her 
 at least not just now. Some day I trust I may 
 meet some honest girl, sound in body, mind and 
 heart, having tastes with which mine will har 
 monize, and then " 
 
 "And then, you think that you will take the 
 matter under advisement, weigh the evidence 
 carefully, as our lawyers say, and on bended 
 knee offer your deliberate affirmative decision. 
 Now, my dear fellow, you will do nothing of the 
 kind. To a man of your honesty and fine feel 
 ing matrimony doesn't come that way. If it 
 comes to you at all which I doubt, for you 
 see so little of women, and there is everything 
 in propinquity it will be a chance, and a 
 happy one I hope. Some men marry for com 
 panionship, but they are not of your tempera 
 ment or tastes. I might do such a thing when 
 I grow old and cease to interest the general 
 feminine public." 
 
 " That time will never come, Tom, or if it 
 does you will never recognize it. Don't you 
 want to ride over to the station with me ? " he 
 added, looking at his watch. " My train starts 
 in half an hour." 
 
 " Yes, and I can then catch the last half of 
 the concert." 
 
 On the way to the station, Ferris gave 
 Moulton an outline of his plan for settling the
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 15 
 
 difficulties at the mines. Not that he questioned 
 whether it would meet his approval, but he knew 
 it would interest him. 
 
 As they walked down the platform, Moulton, 
 with his arm on Ferris's shoulder and with 
 genuine anxiety in his tone, begged him not to 
 rely too much upon the fairness of his men. 
 
 " I had the misfortune," he said, " to be a 
 lieutenant in the New York Seventh during a 
 labor riot. Until then I was a great believer 
 in arbitration ; but I learned, at the cost of 
 numerous bruises, that it is foolish to attempt 
 arbitration with a mob until you have first 
 thrashed it or at least have convinced it of your 
 power to do so. Don't take any chances, Bob, for 
 if the men believe that they have been wronged 
 by your company, they will be slow to recognize 
 that you, an officer of the company, are working 
 in their interest. It would be poor comfort to 
 your friends to know that you had played the 
 role of martyr." 
 
 The train started, and as Moulton watched it 
 draw out of the station he wished that he had 
 accompanied Ferris on this journey, which he felt 
 might be attended with danger. 
 
 After leaving Ferris at the station, Moulton 
 drove to the Thomas concert, arriving there 
 just before the last intermission. There was a 
 retired corner under one of the galleries in the
 
 1 6 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 old Exposition building, in which the concerts 
 were then held, well known to a few music 
 lovers, and to this he was hurrying around the 
 edge of the audience when he saw coming 
 towards him his old class-mate, Merrick Whit 
 ney, accompanied by a tall, raw-boned and 
 weather-beaten young man who was unmistak 
 ably English or Scotch. Moulton had seen but 
 little of Whitney for several years, as the latter, 
 after leaving college, had spent four years 
 abroad studying chemistry, and on his return to 
 this country had buried himself in a New York 
 laboratory in the study of bacteriology until his 
 health became impaired, since which time he 
 had been looking after his father's ranch in 
 Wyoming. 
 
 Whitney's face beamed as he saw Moulton, 
 for they had been close friends in college, and 
 grasping his hands he drew him behind some 
 potted palms and evergreens away from the 
 audience. The Scotchman, for such he was, 
 followed at a little distance and joined them as 
 Whitney was making Moulton promise to meet 
 them at the club after the concert. 
 
 " I want you to meet my friend, Blake-Ken 
 nedy," he said, as the latter came up, and added : 
 " Kennedy, this is my old friend, Tom Moul 
 ton, of whom you have heard Helen speak, no 
 doubt. Moulton has just promised to join us
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 17 
 
 at the club later and we will show him a ranch 
 man's idea of a late supper. By the way, Tom, 
 do you know Helen is here ? You will find 
 her with mother in that dismal corner under 
 the left gallery near the stage. You had better 
 not go near her unless you are in tune ; she has 
 just sent us off because she said that we were 
 out of tune and spoiled the music for her." 
 
 As Moulton approached the corner he saw 
 Mrs. Whitney leaning languidly against one of 
 the pillars next to which she was sitting and 
 evidently more interested in watching her 
 daughter than in listening to the music. He 
 stopped at a little distance and watched Helen 
 too. She was bending forward with her hands 
 clasped in front of her, eagerly drinking in the 
 music of the 'cello-obligato and altogether un 
 mindful of the world about her. When the 
 solo was finished and the orchestra took up the 
 theme, a faint smile passed over her face and, 
 drawing a long, quivering breath, she leaned 
 back again in her chair, listening now with half- 
 closed eyes until the premature applause broke 
 the spell, then passing her hand across her face 
 she turned and saw Moulton coming toward 
 her. There was genuine pleasure in her face as 
 she greeted him. 
 
 "This is indeed delightful," said she, "and 
 how strange that we should meet on the very
 
 1 8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 spot where we said good-bye nearly a year ago. 
 I looked for you when we came in, for you care 
 for music, while Merrick and Mr. Kennedy do 
 not, and mamma does not hear well enough to 
 get much pleasure from it. I concluded that 
 if you were here your friend, Mr. Ferris, had 
 hidden you in some spot where his enjoyment 
 would not be disturbed by the sight of woman. 
 Does he shun women as persistently as ever ? " 
 
 "Woman in the concrete, yes," answered 
 Moulton, with a laugh, " but for woman in the 
 abstract he still remains, as our diplomatists say, 
 'with renewed assurance of profoundest consid 
 eration.' " 
 
 " Which, in his case, as in diplomacy, means 
 nothing. Where is he now ? " 
 
 "On his way to Keating. You know or 
 perhaps you have not noticed there are serious 
 labor troubles at the Gloria mine, and Ferris 
 was telegraphed for to-day." 
 
 " Then it is possible that we may meet him. 
 Did Merrick tell you that we start to-morrow 
 night for an outing in Northern Michigan ? I 
 think our camp will be not far from Keating. 
 Then, too, we shall have Captain Vinton with 
 us, and if we are accessible at all, Mr. Ferris will 
 have to come and see his uncle, even at the risk 
 of meeting a woman. Don't you think you had 
 better write or telegraph and warn him ?"
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. IQ 
 
 " Now, really, you do not understand Fer 
 ris. He is not a woman-hater. He admires, 
 yes, and absurd as it sounds, enjoys women as 
 much as any man I know, but though appar 
 ently self-possessed in their presence, he is 
 really ill at ease. The few times I have induced 
 him to call with me have proven not only that 
 he heartily enjoys their society but that he has 
 a rare faculty of making himself entertaining 
 and attractive to them." 
 
 " That is the most exasperating feature of his 
 case. If he were stupid we could pardon his 
 indifference ; or if he were a genius and unin 
 teresting, as geniuses so often are, his utter disre 
 gard would give us no concern ; but unfortu 
 nately he is neither. I feel that I am on most 
 intimate terms with your friend, for you have 
 brought him to see me twice, which is double 
 the attention he has shown any other girl. But 
 tell me now, what have you been doing in music 
 since I saw you last ? " 
 
 " I have been a trifler, as ever. I have done 
 but little singing, because I have not the perse 
 verance to practice scales and breathing and 
 syllables in the way that is essential to success, 
 and I am tired of being told, as a supposed com 
 pliment, that I really ought to study. You will 
 smile when I tell you that I have been struggling 
 with the banjo at the rate of four lessons a week
 
 2O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 for the past six months, and am getting so that 
 I can play fairly well." 
 
 "There is something incongruous about a 
 banjo accompaniment to your voice, but I do 
 not despise the banjo by any means, for it has a 
 weirdness and individuality, and in the open air 
 especially I like it. Can you imagine a more 
 appropriate instrument to be played at a camp 
 fire in the heart of the forest on an autumn 
 night? I wish you were going with us." 
 
 " On behalf of my banjo, thanks. Who are to 
 be in your party?" 
 
 "Well, first in order of importance is Mrs. 
 Elting." 
 
 " She is the cook, I suppose." 
 
 " No, this is not to be exclusively a man's 
 party. Mrs. Elting is the chaperon and a most 
 delightful little woman. Her husband owns the 
 lumber mill and the little town about it from 
 which our expedition starts, and in the winter 
 they live in Detroit. Then there is Miss Seaton, 
 who is really the Major-General of the expedi 
 tion, as she organized it and with the aid of dear 
 old Colonel Elting, who has furnished everything 
 in the way of camp-outfit, has looked after all 
 the details. The men of the party are Captain 
 Vinton, Mr. Kennedy and Merrick. Have you 
 ever been camping?" 
 
 " Never, and yet I am so fond of the country
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 21 
 
 that I cannot imagine a more delightful way of 
 spending a vacation with an agreeable party." 
 
 " I am sure our party must prove congenial. 
 Miss Seaton and I have been together constantly 
 during the past year. We roomed together in 
 Berlin last fall and winter. She spent July with 
 us at Nantucket, and I have just come from vis 
 iting her in Detroit. She is with us now, but 
 preferred to spend this last evening in civiliza 
 tion looking after our supply lists and seeing 
 that we have everything necessary in the way of 
 rods and guns and ammunition." 
 
 "She must be a veritable modern Diana," 
 said Moulton with a smile. 
 
 " She is the most fascinating girl I have ever 
 known. She is not exactly what would be called 
 beautiful, from a woman's point of view, although 
 if she dressed more conventionally this might be 
 different. Her face is dark and her features, 
 although small, have an almost masculine pre 
 cision. Do you recall Gerault's picture of the 
 'Shepherdess?' If so, you will recognize the 
 resemblance, when you see Miss Seaton. She 
 has done a great deal of hunting and fishing, 
 and her home has many trophies to attest her 
 skill both, with shot-gun and rifle. Ever since 
 she was a child and until two years ago she has 
 spent several months of each year in the woods 
 where we are to camp. She lives with her uncle,
 
 22 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 Dr. Burton, and her aunt, Miss Burton, who is 
 quite old and a confirmed invalid. She is very 
 different from any girl I ever knew, and although 
 a great student, particularly in chemistry and 
 history, she is most enthusiastic about out-of- 
 door life and sports." 
 
 " Her masculine traits evidently attract you." 
 " Yet withal, she is so entirely womanly. Her 
 room struck me, I remember, as so thoroughly 
 characteristic of herself. The brass bed with its 
 soft white canopy, the exquisite daintiness of the 
 white and gilt furniture, showing the most deli 
 cate womanly taste, while over the mantel were 
 the antlers of a great buck, and beneath these a 
 bamboo rod and a rifle. The fire-screen was the 
 skin of a loon she had shot, beautifully mounted 
 with outspread wings in a brass frame, and upon 
 the hearth was a great black bear skin with head 
 and claws complete, which she says her uncle 
 assures her that she shot, although she protests 
 that she was too much frightened to remember 
 having done so. But you must come over to 
 morrow and dine with our party, for we do not 
 start until 9 o'clock. Perhaps if you exert your 
 self you can so impress Miss Seaton that she 
 will invite you to join us in the woods. That 
 would be delightful. Don't you really think 
 you would enjoy it ? " 
 
 "Yes, I am sure I should. I have never been
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 23 
 
 camping but I have always loved the woods, and 
 I remember how, as a small boy, when we lived 
 in the country near Leamington you recall 
 the dear place my favorite way of spending a 
 holiday was to get my chum, Tom Dodd poor 
 chap, he is dead now, and with my mother's 
 old plaid shawl and a well-filled lunch basket, go 
 off into the woods beyond the upper pond. The 
 shawl made a capital tent, and after we had filled 
 our bags with nuts we would build a roaring 
 camp fire, boil tea in a tin pail, tell over the 
 stories we had read of back-woods life, and alto 
 gether feel quite as if we were pioneers. Some 
 times, too, we were lucky enough to catch a few 
 small perch, or sun-fish, which we would take 
 home proudly, at the end of a very long string. 
 How plainly those days come back at the bare 
 suggestion of the woods. Yes, I know I should 
 enjoy it." 
 
 An hour later Moulton was given the oppor 
 tunity of proving the sincerity of this last state 
 ment. He drove from the concert with the 
 Whitneys, as their home was but a short distance 
 from the Club, and at Helen's invitation stopped 
 to be presented to Miss Seaton. That young 
 lady met them at the door with an open note in 
 her hand and said : 
 
 " Is this not wretched news, Helen, dear ? 
 Mr. Kennedy has just sent me this note, in which
 
 24 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 he says that he has had a telegram requiring his 
 immediate return to Cheyenne and must take the 
 noon train to-morrow." 
 
 Helen looked at Moulton and blushed slight 
 ly as she caught his eye and saw that he read her 
 thought. 
 
 "I am very sorry," she said, " for Mr. Ken 
 nedy, but perhaps we can find some self-sacrific 
 ing man willing to take his place." 
 
 "Shall I retire," asked Moulton ; "while you 
 determine who the fortunate one shall be ? " 
 
 "Does that mean that you wish to escape ?" 
 Helen asked. 
 
 " Not at all. Nothing could give me greater 
 pleasure than to be of your party, I assure you." 
 
 And so it was promptly decided that Moul 
 ton should take Kennedy's place.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IT was nearly noon when the train that carried 
 Ferris, stopped at the little town of Keat 
 ing. Except for a few idle men lounging on 
 the benches and for John Brent, the superintend 
 ent of the mine, who knew of his coming, the 
 station was deserted, for this train stopped only 
 on special order such as Ferris had obtained. 
 But in front of the "Miner's Hotel," which stood 
 a few hundred feet from the station, could be 
 seen groups of rough looking men, and the 
 coarse shouts and profanity from the bar-room 
 showed that the poor man's worst enemy rum 
 was making its influence felt. As the train 
 slowed up most of these men lazily sauntered 
 toward it. 
 
 " I think, sir, we had better get over to the 
 mine as soon as possible for the men are in an 
 ugly mood to-day ; " said Brent, as he went to 
 help the station agent with Ferris's trunk. It 
 required but a moment to place the trunk on the 
 back of the buck-board, but while Brent was 
 securing it the vehicle was surrounded, and the 
 25
 
 26 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 crowd found courage to show its ugly temper in 
 jeering remarks directed first at Brent and then, 
 emboldened by his silence, at Ferris. As Brent 
 took his seat beside Ferris and gathered up the 
 reins, a maudlin brute stood in front of the 
 horse and said : 
 
 "This here's the feller that telegraphed John 
 Brent to shet down the mine. Had n't we bet 
 ter give him a shakin' up while we 've got him, 
 boys ? " 
 
 As he spoke, he grasped the bridle of the 
 horse. The color came into Ferris's face as he 
 sprang quickly to his feet and placed his hand 
 on Brent's shoulder, for the latter had also 
 started to rise. 
 
 " Keep cool, John," he said, in an undertone, 
 and in the few seconds before he spoke again 
 the color of his face gave way to a fierce pale 
 ness. In the sullen faces before him he read 
 the ugly temper of the crowd, but though he 
 realized how powerless he and Brent might be to 
 resist their violence, the thought of yielding 
 never entered his mind. Had he needed en 
 couragement he might have found it in the face 
 of a horseman who at that moment crossed the 
 railway track from the direction of the woods 
 and quickly reined up a few feet from the crowd. 
 He was not a large man, but broad-shouldered 
 and deep-chested, and he sat in his saddle like a
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 27 
 
 trooper. The resemblance, too, was heightened 
 by the cork helmet he wore and the rifle that 
 hung from the pommel of his saddle. Ferris 
 had never seen him before but in the brief 
 glance he gave him he recognized a friend if 
 one were needed. 
 
 Looking steadily at the man who held his 
 horse's bridle, he spoke sharply : 
 
 "Stand aside there, or I will not answer for 
 the consequences," he said with deliberation, 
 but in a way and coupled with a look that 
 caused the man to obey. Then he added in a 
 scarcely milder tone: "Men, I have been sent 
 here to determine for the owners whether the 
 Gloria Mine shall start up or remain idle. You 
 will not help me toward a decision favorable to 
 you by acting as you have begun. Drive on, 
 John." 
 
 The crowd parted to allow the buck-board to 
 pass, as the horse sprang forward under the 
 touch of the whip. 
 
 The Gloria Mine was about half a mile from 
 the station, but the road was dotted with small 
 houses nearly all the way to the ore yards, be 
 yond which were the company's store, the office, 
 the superintendent's house and the numerous 
 other buildings usually found about a plant of 
 this kind. By the time they reached the office 
 Brent had fully outlined the situation of affairs,
 
 28 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and it was plain to Ferris that something must 
 be done at once. 
 
 The strike, which had now lasted nearly four 
 months, was due to an order of the Board of 
 Directors reducing the wages of the miners 
 fifteen to twenty-five per cent. Ferris had 
 opposed this reduction, but the Gloria stock had 
 been so liberally watered at a time when the 
 demand for iron ore seemed insatiable by reason 
 of the building of many new railroads through 
 out the country and particularly in the west, that 
 it was difficult to convince the owners of this 
 stock that with a falling market thefr dividends 
 should suffer rather than the miners' wages. 
 Before the meeting of the directors at which the 
 reduction was ordered, he had carefully pre 
 pared a table of figures which he regarded as an 
 unanswerable argument in favor of a dividend 
 reduction, and such indeed it should have been. 
 But the soullessness of this particular corpora 
 tion was exemplified in the person of a vener 
 able director, one Grimshaw, who owned a large 
 amount of the stock and controlled much more, 
 as he did also in numerous other corporations. 
 He did not attempt to disprove the facts stated 
 by Ferris, but simply ignored them. He re 
 minded the directors that the stock of the Gloria 
 company was ten million dollars and that for 
 the past ten years it had paid a dividend of
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2Q 
 
 eight per cent ; that while the demand for iron 
 ore had decreased, so also had the price of 
 food and clothing; that the miners were bene 
 fited by the reductions in the price of commodi 
 ties, and that therefore they could well afford to 
 work at the reduced scale of wages. Thereupon 
 it was declared to be the sense of the board of 
 directors that a reduction of fifteen to twenty- 
 five per cent, in all wages should be made, the 
 manager was ordered to construct a new wage 
 scale, the usual dividend was declared and the 
 meeting adjourned. 
 
 No one knew better than Ferris the hopeless 
 ness of attempting to get the men to accept the 
 new scale of wages, for a like reduction had 
 been made the year before, and very nearly re 
 sulted in the shutting down of the mine. At 
 that time, however, the same wage-scale was 
 adopted by all the neighboring mines, and the 
 reasons given by Grimshaw were then used and 
 their force exhausted. He was not surprised, 
 therefore, when a telegram from Brent an 
 nounced that the men had almost unanimously 
 refused to accept the company's terms. 
 
 But Ferris was not easily discouraged. When 
 he realized, after the strike had continued for two 
 months, how unreasonable and hopeless it was to 
 expect the men to return at the reduced scale, 
 he conceived a plan that offered a possible solu-
 
 3O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tion of the trouble. He represented to the 
 directors the advisability of making extensive 
 repairs in the machinery of the mine while it 
 was idle, and of introducing certain modern ap 
 paratus that would largely increase its output. 
 He did this with much doubt as to its success, 
 for when he had made the same proposition 
 some two years before, Grimshaw had opposed 
 him. But to his surprise this director was now 
 an earnest advocate of the improvements. Hav 
 ing gained this point, Ferris next revived the 
 wage question, and was allowed to prepare a new 
 scale based upon the reduction, but with author 
 ity to make a pro rata advance as the increased 
 production of the mine might warrant. He had 
 long cherished the plan of modernizing the 
 machinery of the Gloria mine, yet so long as the 
 dividends were satisfactory he was unable to im 
 press upon the management the necessity of any 
 improvement in the plant. Now that Grimshaw 
 favored the plan, he was able to carry it out in 
 the most liberal way, and within a few weeks the 
 new machinery began to arrive at the mine 
 more rapidly than the mechanics could put it in 
 place. 
 
 When the inhabitants of Keating first saw 
 these repairs in progress they regarded it as a 
 sign that the company had decided to recon 
 sider its action and resume work at the old scale
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 3! 
 
 of wages ; but latterly, as the repairs neared 
 completion, a new rumor had been started, to the 
 effect that when the machinery was in readiness 
 a full force of imported contract laborers would 
 be brought to work the mine. In vain Brent 
 denied this rumor, which, as it gained credence, 
 produced an ugly feeling, even among the few 
 men who had shown a disposition to accede to 
 the company's offer. Threats of destroying the 
 plant were made, until Brent realized that unless 
 some decisive steps were taken to allay the bad 
 feeling, it must soon find vent in some desper 
 ate act. 
 
 After his arrival Ferris spent the two hours 
 before luncheon in inspecting the new machin 
 ery and repairs, giving occasional directions as 
 to slight changes, but, on the whole, finding 
 much satisfaction at the manner in which the 
 work had been done. 
 
 " I should scarcely recognize the old mine," 
 said he to Brent, as they walked toward the 
 office ; " and I believe that my estimates of in 
 crease of the output, which I confess at first 
 seemed rather exaggerated, will be exceeded if 
 the men have not .been rendered utterly worth 
 less by idleness and liquor." 
 
 " The men would be all right, sir, if you 
 could get them at work again, but I am afraid 
 you will find that harder than you think for."
 
 32 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " I cannot see why it should be. I can cer 
 tainly convince the most doubtful of them that 
 with our improved plant and with the new 
 tonnage scale of wages, their pay cannot be less 
 than it was before the strike, and it may be 
 somewhat more." 
 
 " If you could get the men to listen to you and 
 understand your plan, and particularly if you 
 could make them see that you are working in 
 their interest, I don't question that you could 
 get them to come back upon your terms. But 
 the fact is, these men think that they have 
 been treated unfairly. As you know, many of 
 them are foreigners, the majority are stupid and 
 ignorant. During the past month, and partic 
 ularly during the past week, the worst element 
 has predominated, and even the older and better 
 men, who have heretofore advised patience and 
 moderation, seem to offer now no opposition to 
 the incendiary plans of the hot-headed and 
 malicious." 
 
 "They have not frightened you, surely, have 
 they, John ? " asked Ferris with a smile. 
 
 " No, sir, they have not frightened me ; at 
 least I am not afraid for my own safety, but four 
 years' campaigning has taught me to appreciate 
 danger when I see it, and I have lived long 
 enough with these men to know their temper. 
 Only night before last, Jack Smith, who has been
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 33 
 
 working on the new double-hoist, ran across a 
 gang of men down by the Corduroy bridge, as 
 he was coming home from Burton's cabin, and 
 as he doesn't stand in very high favor with 
 them, he hid under the bridge to let them pass. 
 They stopped on the bridge just over him, and 
 he heard enough of their plans to satisfy him 
 and me that matters were about as serious as 
 they could well be. Black Tim was the leader 
 of the gang and Jack heard him giving direc 
 tions to some of the others as to how they would 
 go about wrecking our plant in a way that did 
 great credit to his cunning. Two of our men 
 who were over at the Spencer mine, where it was 
 supposed they had gone to seek work, sent word 
 that they had secured enough dynamite to blow 
 our whole outfit into eternity. The men moved 
 on before Smith could get further information 
 as to their plans, but I am satisfied that the 
 devil is in them and liable to break out at any 
 minute. While I was waiting for your train at 
 the station this morning, I overheard Tim tell 
 one of his men that the meeting for to-night 
 would be at 9 o'clock. Now it may be only 
 iny suspicions, but the meetings have always 
 been held at 7 and I don't regard the change 
 as any good sign, particularly as Tim has come 
 to be the principal speaker at the meetings held 
 of late."
 
 34 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Is there any one among the men from whom 
 we can learn more of this meeting to-night ? " 
 Ferris asked after a brief silence. 
 
 "No, I think not," answered Brent. "The 
 men, as you know, were almost unanimous in 
 calling the strike, and while there were those 
 who were willing to come back at the reduced 
 scale, some of these have moved away and others 
 have nothing to say against the bad element ; 
 they are simply cowed. It is possible," Brent 
 added, " that Dr. Burton might throw some light 
 on the matter, as he has been looking after 
 some of the sick folks lately and may have got 
 an inkling of what is going on." 
 
 " Do you think that this Dr. Burton would 
 care or would dare to tell us of the plans of 
 Black Tim's gang, if he knows anything con 
 cerning them ? " 
 
 Brent smiled as he answered : " I can't 
 say whether he would care to tell anything or 
 not, but if he wanted to do so, it is not likely 
 that he would be afraid. He is a powerful fel 
 low, though he doesn't look it, and the men 
 know it. Two weeks ago Sunday evening, he 
 was called to see Black Tim's wife, who was at 
 the point of death, and as he passed the hotel on 
 his way to the shanty, he found Tim drinking 
 whiskey and told him he had better go home. 
 Tim's an ugly brute and a bully, as you know,
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 35 
 
 and he didn't like being spoken to before the 
 men. So he invited the doctor to go to hell. 
 With that, Burton jumped off his horse and told 
 him to defend himself. The men expected to 
 see a fight, but there wasn't enough of it to be 
 called that. Tim made a lunge at Burton and 
 that was the end of the fight for him, for the 
 doctor parried the blow with his right and 
 knocked him down with his left, and as he rose, 
 knocked him down again, left him insensible, 
 and went off and spent the night at the bedside 
 of the dying woman. No, I guess he is not 
 much afraid." 
 
 " I think Burton is the man we need, and I 
 wish that you would see that he gets this note 
 at once ; " and Ferris wrote as follows : 
 
 DEAR DR. BURTON: 
 
 I have come here with the hope of settling the 
 strike in the interest of the men. I am satisfied that 
 I can accomplish nothing unless they are diverted 
 from their immediate plans to destroy our plant. May 
 I not ask that you join me here at luncheon and aid 
 us in reaching, if possible, a conclusion of this un 
 fortunate trouble? Sincerely yours, 
 
 ROBERT FERRIS. 
 
 " Hadn't I better just send word that he is 
 needed and ask him to come at once ? " said 
 Brent, as he gave the note to a boy, who had 
 brought the mail from the post-office.
 
 36 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " No, John, that note will bring him if he is 
 the man we want." 
 
 The boy galloped off with instructions to 
 give the note with all speed into the doctor's 
 hands. Burton was standing in front of the 
 general store and postoffice, with one hand on 
 his horse's mane and the other holding a letter 
 which he was leisurely reading. He glanced at 
 Ferris's note and said: " Say that I will come at 
 once ; " and then on second thought he added: 
 " No, say that I will come immediately after 
 luncheon." Then he crossed to the hotel, 
 hitched his horse, and went into the bar-room, 
 one end of which served as an eating-room for 
 the few boarders and the occasional miners, 
 lumbermen, peddlers and others that might 
 have the misfortune and courage to partake of 
 the meals served by the Widow Dooley, who was 
 proprietress, cook, waitress, and general fac 
 totum of the place. 
 
 Hitherto Burton had paid but little attention 
 to the conduct of the striking miners, content 
 ing himself with giving assistance to such needy 
 cases as were brought to his notice. He knew 
 however, that the men regarded the manager as 
 responsible in great measure for their trouble 
 and hated him accordingly. He had never seen 
 Ferris until his arrival two hours before, yet 
 he liked his honest resolute face and be-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 37 
 
 lieved whatever might be his plan for a settle 
 ment of the strike, it was at least worthy 
 of serious consideration by the men, and he 
 resolved to give him such assistance as might be 
 within his power. He realized from what he 
 had heard recently, that matters were nearing a 
 crisis. As to just what that crisis was to be, he 
 had given little thought. Now if he was to be 
 of any assistance, he must gather some more 
 definite information. As he entered the hotel, 
 he found only a half dozen men, for the house 
 had now but very few boarders. 
 
 There was little conversation during the 
 dinner, which consisted of very old corned beef, 
 cabbage and potatoes, and the only item of news 
 that Burton gathered during the meal was that 
 the superintendent of the Spencer mine had 
 been robbed and beaten the night before, by two 
 masked men, who disappeared in the direction 
 of Keating. After the dinner one of the men, 
 a young fellow not over twenty-five, whom 
 Burton remembered to have seen and admired 
 before he began to drink, handed Mrs. Dooley 
 the price of his dinner and said : " This 
 squares us up, Mrs. Dooley, and it's the last meal 
 I shall have with you, for I am off for Marquette 
 this afternoon. I have just enough money left 
 to pay my fare, and if I stop any longer, I shall 
 have to count the ties."
 
 38 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 Burton was beginning to despair of learning 
 here anything that might enlighten him con 
 cerning the immediate plans of the men. 
 
 " Let's have a last drink all around, boys, 
 before Jack goes. The widow will set up the 
 drinks this time, won't you, old woman ? Jack's 
 been a good customer of yours of late ; " said 
 one of the men. 
 
 " If there is enough liquor for the crowd, I 
 will ; but you know there is less than a pint of 
 the stuff left, and the new keg won't get here 
 till the 5 o'clock express from Marquette." 
 
 The last of the whisky was divided into six 
 glasses, Burton having declined, and a parting 
 health to Jack Turnley was drunk. The men 
 then left the room and stood outside the door 
 way waiting to hear the whistle of the north 
 bound train, which was about due. On the fly 
 leaf of his diary Burton hastily wrote a note to 
 the express agent at Denton, the next station 
 north, stating that the supply of liquor in Keat 
 ing was exhausted and that there were reasons 
 of the utmost importance why no more should 
 reach the town that night, and requesting him to 
 detain at Denton the keg that had been shipped 
 to Mrs. Dooley. 
 
 As he finished and addressed this note, he 
 heard a coarse voice outside the door and 
 recognized it at once as that of Tim Finney
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 39 
 
 " Black Tim," as he was commonly called, be 
 cause of his coarse, black hair, which almost 
 met the heavy, black eyebrows growing straight 
 across his forehead. 
 
 " You're a d fool, and a coward, to leave 
 
 us now, Jack ; wait until after to-night, and you 
 can bet your life you will get back your old job 
 at the mine. We are all pals here," Tim added, 
 looking around cautiously; " and I don't mind 
 telling you if you will keep your mouth shut, 
 that we are going to learn John Brent and his 
 young boss a lesson to-night that they will re 
 member for a while." Then he added in a lower 
 tone : " There is going to be an accident at the 
 mine to-night and we'll show him that they can't 
 starve us to death, and then run in a gang of 
 nigger miners to take our jobs." 
 
 Burton heard Turnley protest that if he staid 
 until morning, he would not have money enough 
 to take him away, and he knew from the man's 
 tone and from what he had seen of him before, 
 that he did not altogether favor Tim's method 
 of bringing the company to terms.- 
 
 " Damn the money, boy ; take this shiner, 
 and if things don't turn out as I tell you then 
 you can buy a ticket with it to-morrow." 
 
 There was an exclamation of surprise from the 
 men as Tim produced a bright ten dollar gold 
 piece.
 
 4O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "There is more where that came from, lads, 
 and I tell ye the League will stand by us now if 
 we show 'em that we have got the sand to do our 
 duty." 
 
 Just then the whistle of the north-bound en 
 gine sounded, and Burton passed from the door, 
 hurried to the station, and gave his note to the 
 conductor, who promised to deliver it to the 
 agent at Denton. The train moved off and as 
 he returned to the hotel and mounted his horse, 
 he noticed Jack Turnley standing with a look of 
 shame upon his face, watching the train as it 
 disappeared across the river and into the pines 
 beyond. 
 
 As Burton rode up to the office at the mine, 
 Ferris met him and introduced himself. 
 
 " It is very good of you to come, doctor, 
 and knowing your interest in the men, I am 
 sure that I do not need to make excuses for 
 sending for you on a matter so entirely unpro 
 fessional." 
 
 " Pray don't mention it, Mr. Ferris. I am 
 always glad to respond to an unprofessional call. 
 It is the professional ones that distress me, for I 
 no longer pretend to practice medicine and, in 
 deed, have not done so for many years. I have 
 succeeded until this summer in concealing from 
 the people about here the fact that I am a physi 
 cian ; but when Dr. Jamieson left, he was unkind
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 4! 
 
 enough to disclose my professional identity to a 
 chronic patient of his, and since then I have 
 been unable to escape. I assure you that it will 
 be a most happy relief to me when the men can 
 afford to get Jamieson back." 
 
 As they entered the office, Brent joined them 
 and the three went to a room on the second floor 
 where they would not be overheard. What 
 Burton had learned in the hour before, satisfied 
 them that there was need for immediate action. 
 
 Ferris explained to Burton, as briefly as pos 
 sible, the repairs that had been made at the mine 
 and how, with the new tonnage scale, the wages 
 of the men must equal or exceed what they had 
 received before the strike. Burton readily com 
 prehended the plan and its entire practicability, 
 but he appreciated the difficulty at such a late 
 hour, in getting it before the men in a convinc 
 ing way. 
 
 The conference, which lasted nearly an hour, 
 resulted in a plan by which Burton and Brent 
 were to see such of the old workmen as might 
 be reasonably disposed, and induce them to 
 attend the meeting in the evening and listen to 
 the proposition that Ferris would make. It was 
 thought advisable also that the meeting should 
 be called not later than half past seven, as 
 the freight train from the north passed at half 
 past eight, and Brent believed that it might bring
 
 42 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 some of the worst characters from Denton or the 
 mines beyond. 
 
 Burton had not realized until he undertook 
 this mission how many of the families in the 
 little town were indebted to him in one way or 
 another. Many of the men were away from 
 their homes, but before nightfall he had suc 
 ceeded in seeing at least fifty and had secured 
 their promise to attend the meeting. He let it 
 be known that he had had a conference with the 
 manager and had given his promise that if Ferris 
 would be present, the men would accord him a 
 fair hearing. Not a few resented the suggestion 
 of having Ferris speak to them ; but for Bur 
 ton's sake, they promised that even Ferris should 
 have an opportunity to be heard if they could 
 accomplish it. Although these fifty men were 
 but a small minority of the men who had suffered 
 from the strike, yet they were of the best, and 
 with even so few to be depended upon, Burton 
 hoped that the others might be led. 
 
 Nor was Brent idle during the afternoon, for 
 while many of his men hated him as a servant of 
 the company, there were others, particularly 
 among the better class of miners, who knew that 
 the reduction in their wages had been in the 
 face of his earnest protest and that he had 
 always been straightforward with them. Not a 
 few of these promised that they would do what
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 43 
 
 they could to give Ferris a fair chance to be 
 heard. " But God help him, John," said one of 
 these, "if what he's got to say ain't square 
 and fair ; for if it ain't, he'll never get away 
 alive." 
 
 While Burton and Brent were thus engaged 
 in the town, Ferris took such measures as were 
 possible with the few men at the mine to protect 
 the property if violence should be attempted. 
 He armed the men that could certainly be 
 trusted and arranged that they should guard the 
 buildings and the shaft, but the ore yard was, 
 unfortunately, exposed. It was of triangular 
 shape ; on one side of it the river ran, and, 
 forming an angle with the river, was an old 
 shaft, or rather tunnel, that ran under the river, 
 dipping but a slight distance below its bed. 
 The bulk of the ore remaining in the yard lay 
 in a giant pile in this angle ; if the base of the 
 wall that guarded it were broken on one side, a 
 great part of the ore would slide into the river, 
 and if a breach were made on the other side, it 
 would fall into the abandoned tunnel and 
 the worked out level below, letting in the 
 river, if its bank were broken also. But Fer 
 ris did not believe that this point which was so 
 exposed would be attacked, and concluded, after 
 looking over the yard, that the most vulnerable 
 place was the switch tracks and trestle work that
 
 44 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 led across the river and into the yard, and here 
 he stationed the only two men that could be 
 spared from the guard of the buildings. At six 
 o'clock he had completed his work, and as he 
 returned to the office he met the boy who had 
 come with the mail. 
 
 "The south-bound express is late, Willie," 
 Ferris said, as the little fellow dismounted from 
 his pony with the mail-bag. 
 
 "No, sir, the train was on time," the boy 
 answered ; "but there came near being an awful 
 fight at the depot. Mrs. Dooley 'spected a keg 
 of whiskey on the train and it didn't come, and 
 she got a lot of men to hold the train and search 
 the express car and the baggage car. The ex 
 press agent locked himself in the car and they 
 busted the door in with a railroad tie. I guess 
 the agent thought they were going to rob his 
 safe, for he fired into the crowd, and I reckon 
 poor Jack Turnley was hurt bad, 'cause the load 
 struck him, and when I come away Doc Burton 
 was picking the buckshot out of him. Will you 
 want me for awhile, Mr. Ferris? Doc said he 
 would like to have me at the hall at half-past 
 seven." 
 
 " No ; go and get your supper, and do not 
 fail to meet Dr. Burton," answered Ferris as he 
 went into the office. 
 
 " O, I won't, sir ; there's going to be an awful
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 45 
 
 big meeting at the hall to-night;" and the boy 
 galloped off to the barn. 
 
 After supper Ferris returned to the office and 
 waited impatiently for some word from the town. 
 Eight o'clock came and no message from Burton 
 or Brent, and from that time until nine, he 
 walked restlessly in front of the office door. He 
 had decided to wait no longer, and was just 
 starting toward the town when he heard the 
 sharp clatter of the pony's hoofs, and in a mo 
 ment the mail-boy stopped before him. The 
 little fellow was bareheaded, and down his face 
 a quick stream of blood was flowing from a 
 wound above the temple. By the bright moon 
 light Ferris could see that he was deadly pale 
 from fright or loss of blood. 
 
 " Quick, Mr. Ferris," he said faintly, holding 
 fast to the pommel of his saddle, " they want 
 you at the hall. Black Tim and his men are 
 coming up the river road. O, stop them, Mr. 
 Ferris, or they will do something awful, for 
 they've got two great cans of powder." 
 
 He tried to dismount, but would have fallen 
 had not Ferris caught him. Taking the child 
 in his arms, he ran with him to Brent's house, 
 where Mrs. Brent, hearing his step upon the 
 porch, met them at the door. Ferris laid the 
 child on the lounge, and pressing together the 
 wound, checked the loss of blood.
 
 46 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Hurry, hurry, Mr. Ferris ; they are coming. 
 Don't you hear them? Don't you hear them? 
 O, sir, don't mind me. I I ;" and the little 
 voice was silent. 
 
 " You need not wait, Mr. Ferris ; I will look 
 after Willie," said Mrs. Brent ; and Ferris, know 
 ing that no care that he might give could add 
 to her motherly tenderness, hurried from the 
 house. 
 
 As he passed the engine house he ordered 
 Pat, the faithful old fireman stationed there, to 
 come with him, and the two ran along the side 
 of the ore yard toward the road up which he 
 knew that Tim and his men must come. At the 
 end of the yard they stopped, and, looking cau 
 tiously around the corner of the great pile past 
 which the road ran, Ferris saw the crowd of van 
 dals moving rapidly toward them. 
 
 "Stand close to the wall, Pat," he said. "Be 
 ready to shoot, but do n't fire until I tell you. If 
 we have to fire, don't shoot at Tim. I will take 
 care of him. Steady now ; they're almost here." 
 
 The tramp of heavy feet on the hard road 
 could now be plainly heard as they neared the 
 corner of the pile. 
 
 "Give me the big can and a fuse, Dutchy," 
 they heard Tim say, as they stopped a moment, 
 now less than thirty feet away. "I'll plant it 
 around the corner by the mouth of the old tun-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 47 
 
 nel, and the other we'll put under this end of 
 the trestle bridge. They'll think hell's busted 
 when they both go off." 
 
 Ferris knew, from this move, that Tim was 
 not expecting opposition or he would not have 
 cumbered himself with the dynamite can, but 
 would have left his hands free to use his revolver, 
 which he always carried. In a moment they 
 moved forward again. As they reached the cor 
 ner Ferris stepped quickly in front of them and 
 thrust his revolver into Tim's face, while Pat 
 covered with his rifle the men who closely fol 
 lowed their leader. 
 
 "Hold on to that can with both hands," Ferris 
 said sharply, as Tim leaned over to place the 
 can upon the ground. "Pat, shoot the first man 
 that moves a hand." 
 
 There were six men in the party, and for an 
 instant Ferris was at a loss to determine his next 
 move ; then he asked : 
 
 " Pat, do you know these men ? " 
 "Sure, sor, every mother's son of thim, and 
 a bad lot they be, sor," Pat replied. 
 
 "Do they all belong here?" 
 
 " Saving the two Murpheys and Dutchy, what 
 belongs in Denton, and the scum of the town 
 they be, sor. The Murpheys are the lads with 
 their caps drawed down over their eyes ; and 
 Dutchy 's the ugly devil I 'm holding me gun
 
 48 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 on ; and I 'd thank ye, sor, for the order to 
 shoot." 
 
 Looking at them, but still covering Tim with 
 his revolver, Ferris said : "I will give you three 
 men just two minutes to get out of rifle range. 
 Take the Denton road and lose no time about 
 it. Run." 
 
 They needed no second order, and in a few 
 moments had disappeared in the pines through 
 which the road led. Ferris then ordered Tim 
 and the other man who carried the dynamite 
 cans, to place them on their heads, and hold 
 them there with both hands. 
 
 "Search this man, Pat, and if he or either of 
 the others makes a move, it will be his last." 
 
 In a moment Pat had taken from Tim's hip 
 pocket a heavy revolver, and in his search found 
 a massive gold watch. 
 
 "That 's a fine watch for the likes of ye to 
 be carrying ; and I suppose it's your mone- 
 gram that's marked on the back," he added, as 
 he held it up to the moonlight. 
 
 Tim's massive frame trembled and his face 
 grew pale. 
 
 "Pat, put that back," he said fiercely, "or by 
 hell, I'll kill ye. 'Twas give to me by a gentle 
 man and it's mine." 
 
 "And the gent's dead now, I suppose."
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 49 
 
 "Put back the watch, Pat, and keep the re 
 volver," said Ferris. " Now search the others." 
 
 But neither of these was armed. 
 
 " Now we will go to the town hall," was Fer- 
 ris's next order. " Move on and be quick about 
 it." 
 
 With Tim and his companions in the ad 
 vance, and Ferris and Pat following about 
 twenty feet distant, they moved at a quick gait 
 toward the main part of the town. When with 
 in a few hundred feet of the hall, Ferris met 
 Brent coming rapidly toward them. He saw 
 the situation at a glance. 
 
 "In heaven's name, Mr. Ferris, where did 
 you catch these devils ? But leave them to me 
 and get to the hall as fast as possible, for Burton 
 cannot hold the men ten minutes longer." 
 
 Ferris put up his revolver and ran. As he 
 neared the hall, he could hear Burton's voice 
 above the din, for it was evident that his hearers 
 had become impatient. 
 
 " I promise you, men, that he will be here in 
 ten minutes, if he has not been murdered on 
 the road," were the words that greeted him as 
 he rushed into the open doorway. And, al 
 though he was not conscious of it, his appear 
 ance indicated that probably he had narrowly 
 escaped the fate Burton had suggested, for his
 
 5O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 collar and shirt had been stained with the blood 
 of the mail-boy as he carried him in his arms. 
 
 Instantty all was silent. Burton was standing 
 on the low platform at the end of the hall, and 
 seeing Ferris enter, called : " This way, Mr. 
 Ferris," in a tone of exultation. But as Ferris 
 approached he saw the blood stains and his 
 voice changed. 
 
 "My God, have they tried to kill you ?" he 
 asked anxiously. " Are you badly hurt ? " 
 
 Then, for the first time, Ferris noticed the 
 blood upon his clothing and remembered the 
 little fellow whose life had perhaps already 
 passed away. He paused an instant as he 
 stepped to the platform and turned toward the 
 men ; but in that instant he saw in many of 
 these rough faces a look of interest or rather, 
 anxiety, such as the sight of unjust human 
 suffering will bring to men who at heart are just, 
 even if that suffering be in those they hate. 
 
 " Men," he began with suppressed emotion, 
 " these stains are from the blood of a little child, 
 whom but a short time ago you sent to bring 
 me to this hall. The faithful boy delivered 
 your message, but he was waylaid and beaten, 
 and it may be by this time that he has passed to 
 his reward. I carried him in my arms." 
 
 Cries of " Shame, shame. Who did it ? 
 Lynch them," came from all parts of the hall.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 51 
 
 Then Ferris told briefly and simply the occur 
 rences of the preceding half hour, and it was 
 plain that the majority did not favor such prac 
 tical application of brute force, however they 
 may have approved of it in theory. 
 
 "But," he proceeded, " it is not to tell you 
 of these things that I am here to-night. I am 
 here to consider with you the unfortunate situa 
 tion, and with you to determine how it may best 
 be ended." 
 
 The changes and improvements in the plant 
 were then explained at length and the possibili 
 ties of a largely increased output were demon 
 strated to a certainty. It was shown how, with 
 a tonnage scale of wages, the pay of the men 
 would, in all probability, equal, if it did not ex 
 ceed, that received before the strike. 
 
 In conclusion he said : " I know that many 
 of you hold me responsible for the suffering that 
 has come to you during the past four months, 
 I can only tell you that I am not. But how 
 ever you may feel toward me, I want you to con 
 sider carefully, before you decide to-night, the 
 facts I have stated, and realize that the responsi 
 bility is now with you to determine whether the 
 Gloria mine shall remain shut down, or pros 
 perity shall come again to this town. If you have 
 no questions to ask me that will make the matter 
 plainer, I will go and leave you to decide what
 
 52 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 you think is for your best interest. Should you 
 conclude to return to work, we will start up day 
 after to-morrow. Good-night." 
 
 There was a slight murmur of approval, as 
 Ferris and Burton walked down the hall, and as 
 they passed out the door Burton said: "Mr. 
 Ferris, I congratulate you, for you have won." 
 
 " Thank you, doctor, but without your help 
 I fear it would have been otherwise." 
 
 As they returned to the mine Burton gave 
 Ferris a brief account of his afternoon and even 
 ing's work. 
 
 " But," he said, as they neared Brent's house, 
 where Burton wished to see the injured child, 
 " I have been well repaid, for this has been the 
 most instructive day of my life. Most of our 
 lessons in the intense of human passion are 
 learned from books, where the facts are largely 
 the creatures of the imagination. To-day I have 
 had a lesson in realism that has run the gamut 
 of every passion." 
 
 " Except love," Ferris added rather sarcas 
 tically. 
 
 " No, I have had a glimpse of that, too. It 
 lasted but a moment, but it was real. While I was 
 dressing Turnley's wounds, a young woman 
 so young that I thought her a mere child, at 
 first glance stood very near to me. I was at 
 tracted by the pallor of her face, and as I
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 53 
 
 glanced at times from my work, I could see 
 that she was laboring under intense emotion. 
 Her hands were clasped tightly across her 
 breast and her lips quivered. Several times I 
 found it necessary to use the knife rather 
 severely, and each tremor of pain had its reflex 
 in her face. As I finished my work the poor 
 fellow began to lose consciousness and talked 
 incoherently. The woman leaned forward to 
 catch each faint word, though it was plain she 
 was striving to conceal from the crowd her 
 heart's secret. But in vain. I heard my patient 
 call, ' Molly.' Instantly the woman was on 
 her knees at his side. ' Yes, yes, Jack, I am 
 here, darlin',' was all she said, yet the touch of 
 her hand, roughened by hard work, but softened 
 by love, will do more to win Jack Turnley back 
 to life than all my surgery ! "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHEN Captain Vinton reached Chicago 
 on the morning after Ferris's departure 
 he found Moulton awaiting him at the railway 
 station. The latter, after leaving the Whitneys 
 the night before, had spent some hours in pack 
 ing his bags and, with the aid of a book enti 
 tled, " How to Camp Out," had made a list of 
 the things that he thought might be needed for 
 his outing. As he read these off to Vinton 
 after they had gone to Ferris's rooms, the old 
 fellow fairly shook with laughter. 
 
 " My dear boy," he said, when Moulton had 
 finished, " throw the list away, I beg of you. It 
 may be all right for camping on Lake George 
 and in proximity to a summer hotel, but for 
 Northern Michigan such impedimenta would be 
 the veriest rubbish. Throw out the percale 
 shirts and the whisk broom and the blacking 
 brush and the wash ties. In fact, throw the 
 whole thing away and I will tell you what to 
 take." 
 
 And Moulton found that from his wardrobe 
 and Ferris's store room he was able to supply all 
 54
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 55 
 
 that Vinton deemed necessary and much more, 
 and when he had re-packed his bags he still had 
 ample room for the things that Ferris had left 
 for Vinton, but which the latter declined to be 
 " bothered with." 
 
 In the evening they dined at the Whitneys, 
 and there Moulton learned from Miss Seaton 
 more definitely the location of the camp, and was 
 delighted to discover that it was only twenty 
 miles from Keating. 
 
 " I will drop a line to Ferris before we go," 
 he said ; " and with your permission will urge 
 him to spend a day with us before he returns to 
 the city." 
 
 "And I will add a postscript," said Vinton, 
 " for I am most anxious to see him. We have 
 not in years been separated so long a time be 
 fore." 
 
 " But pray do not restrict his visit to one 
 day," Miss Seaton said ; " for although from 
 Keating to Round Lake is only twenty miles by 
 the map, the trail is not a good one, and whether 
 the distance be covered on foot or by the river, 
 it means at least one day's hard travel. My 
 uncle, Dr. Burton, has a cabin eight miles from 
 Keating, and it would be well for Mr. Ferris to 
 break the journey by stopping with him. Men 
 tion this in your note, for I can assure you that 
 Uncle Tom will welcome him most warmly."
 
 56 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 And so before starting for the train, Moulton 
 mailed his letter to Ferris, with a succession of 
 postscripts by Vinton, Whitney, and Helen. 
 
 When Escanaba was reached early the next 
 morning, the party went at once from the station 
 to Colonel Elting's tug boat, on the deck of 
 which breakfast was served as they steamed out 
 of the harbor. In a direct line the little town of 
 Sturgeon, where the lumber mill was located and 
 from which wagons were to take the campers 
 into the woods, was distant from Escanaba only 
 fifteen miles, but by water the wide circuit 
 around Squaw Point added six more, and it 
 was eleven o'clock before they ran beneath the 
 tall piles of lumber on the docks and heard the 
 welcoming blast from the steam whistle of the 
 mill. 
 
 There is something fascinating about a mod 
 ern saw-mill, even to one not familiar with 
 machinery. The mechanism is so wonderfully 
 rapid and precise, and yet so simple and exposed 
 that anyone can readily see how perfectly the 
 vast power of the steam engine is made re 
 sponsive to the human hand. And what better 
 instance of practical agility can be found than 
 that shown by yonder tall, lank fellow in a red 
 flannel shirt, with trousers tucked into his red 
 woolen socks, who, with pike-pole in hand, 
 lightly steps from log to log as they bob and
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 57 
 
 turn in the water beneath his weight? Notice 
 with what consummate skill he selects the desired 
 log, and, standing erect, rides it to the elevator 
 chains that run it up the incline to the log- 
 deck, where iron arms throw it upon the car 
 riage. Then, too, there is an excitement in 
 watching the sawyer holding fast to the lever of 
 the carriage as it dashes the log into the path of 
 the spinning saw-blade, changing its idle hum to 
 a fierce shriek, and then rushes back for a new 
 charge, pausing only long enough to permit 
 fingers of steel quickly to turn the log or set it 
 forward. 
 
 "Modern invention has wrought wonderful 
 changes in the saw-mill, has it not? " said Vin- 
 ton to Colonel Elting, as they walked up the 
 quarter-mile of saw-dust road that led from the 
 mill to the town. 
 
 "Indeed, it has," he answered. " When I was 
 a boy my father had a lumber mill down in 
 Maine. It was driven by water-power, and had 
 a single muley saw. When the log was once 
 set it was simply a question of time when the 
 carriage would reach the end of the track. With 
 the machinery you have just seen I cut more 
 lumber in a day than the old mill could cut in a 
 year." 
 
 After a short rest and a hearty luncheon, the 
 start for the woods was made in two buck-
 
 58 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 boards, with a light wagon to carry the luggage. 
 The country for the first five miles of the jour 
 ney was covered with a second growth of pine or 
 small hardwood, and except for occasional 
 glimpses of the river along which the wagon 
 road ran, the view was altogether uninteresting. 
 Then, after a half mile of " corduroy " road 
 through a tamarack swamp, they passed on to a 
 hardwood ridge, and the beauty of the northern 
 woods began to unfold itself. 
 
 Miss Seaton had made the journey many 
 times before, and watched with amusement the 
 expression of disappointment that had settled 
 upon her companions during the first tedious 
 hour's ride disappear as they went at a brisk trot 
 along the stretches of good road beneath inter 
 lacing branches of maple and beech and elm 
 that protected them from the heat of the Sep 
 tember sun. 
 
 " This is really beautiful, Madge," said 
 Helen, after a half hour's drive had begun to 
 give her some assurance that the change of 
 scenery was permanent. "Will it be like this all 
 the way to camp ? " 
 
 "Yes, with only an occasional uninteresting 
 spot to emphasize the beauty of the rest. We 
 will stop fora half hour at the first rapids, which 
 we should reach very soon, and perhaps I can
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 59 
 
 initiate you into the blessed mystery of trout 
 fishing, if we can conveniently get some flies and 
 a line." 
 
 "I have those in the top of my hand bag. 
 You know Mr. Kennedy sent me his fly-book 
 and reel, poor fellow;" and, finding the bag be 
 neath the seat, Helen gave the reel and book to 
 Madge, who selected a cast of sombre color. 
 
 The rapids at which the stop was made were 
 at a sharp bend of the river, the bed of which 
 was filled for a hundred yards or more with a 
 mass of rocks which the persistent stream had 
 cut from the steep bank. Over and around 
 these the water rushed and whirled in its noisy 
 haste to reach the placid current below. Quickly 
 jointing her rod, Madge took Helen down 
 stream a short distance to a point where the 
 descent to the water was easy, while Moulton 
 stood on the bank watching them and struggling 
 with a new pipe which Vinton had assured him 
 better harmonized with the woods than did a 
 cigar. He had just abandoned the undertaking 
 and lighted a cigar, when Vinton joined him. 
 
 "I find, Captain," he said, "that anatom 
 ically I am unfitted for smoking a pipe. One 
 really needs a leather tongue, a cast iron stom 
 ach, and infinite lung power to do it with any 
 degree of success or satisfaction. Watch those
 
 60 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 girls," he added, pointing to Helen and Madge ; 
 "they are very picturesque, but have you an idea 
 that they will catch anything ? " 
 
 " I have great confidence in Miss Seaton's 
 skill with the rod, yet I confess that in this 
 strong sunlight I should not look for success." 
 
 Scarcely had he spoken, however, when 
 Madge was seen cautiously to cast down stream 
 in such manner that her flies were whirled into 
 a little pool near the shore and beneath the deep 
 shadow of an overhanging beech tree. Along 
 the surface of the water the flies were skipped 
 back only to be cast again nearer to the shore 
 and this time there was a quick response and the 
 light rod doubled as the trout darted into mid 
 stream. In an instant Vinton was all excitement. 
 
 "Why doesn't she pull him in ?" said Moul- 
 ton, impatiently, as he watched the line reeled 
 slowly in and allowed to run out again whenever 
 the fish made a fresh dash for freedom. 
 
 " Experience will teach you the reason better 
 than any words." Vinton replied. 
 
 Madge had stepped from the shore onto a 
 flat boulder in the stream and now swung the 
 line within reach of Helen, who by a vigorous 
 jerk landed the exhausted trout high amid the 
 bushes on the bank. Disentangling the line, 
 Helen now tried her skill and after several fail 
 ures was rewarded with two smaller fish and
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 6 1 
 
 finally with one "two-pounder" (actual weight 
 one pound and a quarter), that revenged itself 
 by breaking the tip of the rod. 
 
 An hour more of easy driving and a short 
 detour from the main road, brought the party in 
 sight of Round Lake at its eastern side and 
 nearly opposite the camp. The sun was just 
 sinking behind the great trees, in the shadow of 
 which the white tents and a single cabin could 
 be dimly seen. At no time of day is a wood's 
 lake so gorgeously beautiful as at sunset, when 
 the quiet water mirrors the glory of the heavens 
 above and reflects in perfect outline the trees 
 that border the shore ; and to the traveler, 
 wearied with a long day's journey, the sight of 
 camp with its slender thread of smoke rising to 
 dissipate itself in the overhanging branches is as 
 welcome as was the vision of Canaan to the 
 children of Israel. 
 
 Around the edge of the lake was a newly 
 made road if the mere cutting out of the trees 
 could be dignified with that name which was 
 so rough that a walk along the hard sandy beach 
 was thought by all preferable. As they started 
 thus the sharp blows of an axe could be heard 
 echoing around the shore, notwithstanding the 
 lake was nearly a mile in width. Presently these 
 sounds ceased and a canoe was seen to put out 
 from the shore with a single figure kneeling in
 
 62 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 it and driving it rapidly toward them with swift 
 strokes of his paddle. 
 
 "That is Charley, our Indian," said Madge, 
 after watching him a moment. " How beautifully 
 he handles a canoe. He has only one superior 
 in these woods. That is his brother Joe, my 
 Uncle's man." 
 
 "Have you had him as a guide before?" 
 Vinton asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes, many times. Both he and his 
 brother are devoted to Uncle Tom and are with 
 him always when he is in the woods. In the 
 winter and spring they live with their families in 
 the little Indian village near Sturgeon." 
 
 As she finished speaking Madge gave a loud, 
 peculiar call, which the Indian evidently recog 
 nized, for his answer came almost like an echo. 
 A few minutes later the canoe neared the beach 
 in front of them, and stepping into the water, 
 Charley drew the boat ashore. He was above 
 the average height, straight as an arrow, and ex 
 cept for his complexion, might have passed for 
 a full-blooded Indian instead of a half-breed. 
 His delight at seeing Madge again was un 
 mistakable and he grasped her hand warmly 
 while she spoke a few words to him in Chippewa. 
 As he was presented to the others he simply said, 
 "Howdy," nodding his head to each. The 
 canoe was a " dug-out," but a perfect specimen
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 63 
 
 of the Indian's handiwork, light and safe enough 
 if one sat very still. 
 
 "Won't you take Mrs. Elting and Helen to 
 the camp in the canoe, Mr. Moulton ? " Madge 
 asked. "It will easily carry three." 
 
 Moulton looked at the slender craft and 
 shook his head. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Seaton, but I fear it would 
 be too risky. If it were fitted with outriggers 
 and a pair of oars I could confidently manage 
 it. With the paddle I am an utter novice." 
 
 As Vinton also expressed a preference for 
 terra firma, Madge volunteered to take Mrs. 
 Elting and Helen over, and with evident mis 
 givings they consented to go. 
 
 Charley pushed the canoe from shore, with 
 Helen in the bow and Madge kneeling in the 
 stern, and after watching them a moment he 
 turned to Vinton, and said : " Madge paddle 
 canoe like Injun. Joe and me teach her years 
 ago." 
 
 The camp was soon reached and the tents 
 were found pitched on the bluff some thirty feet 
 above the water's edge. At this point the tim 
 ber was free from underbrush and consisted 
 mainly of maple, beech and hemlock, with here 
 and there a pine that towered above the sur 
 rounding foliage. The cabin of rough hewn 
 logs stood about a hundred feet from the edge
 
 64 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 of the bluff and on one side of it were pitched 
 a small tent for Vinton and a larger one for 
 Whitney and Moulton, while on the opposite 
 side were the tent for Mrs. Elting, Madge and 
 Helen, the dining tent (somewhat nearer the 
 lake), the cook tent and the sleeping tent for the 
 cook and guide. The cabin itself had been 
 reserved as a general living room and as a sleep 
 ing room for the ladies in event the weather 
 proved very bad. Down the face of the bluff 
 ran a flight of steps to the beach, and at this 
 point several logs had been staked in the shal 
 low water to serve as a landing for the fleet, 
 which consisted of two canoes and a cedar boat 
 fitted with oars. 
 
 When the men reached the camp they found 
 Madge and Helen seated on a bench at the edge 
 of the bluff and in front of a goodly pile of 
 wood that had been laid in readiness for the 
 first camp fire. 
 
 "Did you ever imagine anything more beauti 
 ful and comfortable than this ? " said Helen to 
 Vinton, as she and Madge walked with him from 
 one tent to another. "I had supposed that we 
 were to sleep on hemlock boughs and dine off 
 tin plates and depend for our cooking upon 
 an open fire and a frying pan. But, thanks to 
 Madge and Colonel Elting, we have comfortable 
 beds to rest our weary bodies and clean white
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 65 
 
 dishes and a regular kitchen stove. This is in 
 deed luxury in the heart of the wilderness." 
 
 " Do you approve of it, Captain ? " Madge 
 asked. "Or are you one of those veteran camp 
 ers who scorn all suggestion of civilization when 
 they come into the woods ? " 
 
 " I have yet to learn," Vinton answered, " that 
 the pleasures of camping can be lessened by a 
 comfortable bed or by having one's food well 
 cooked and decently served. The somniferous 
 virtue of the hemlock boughs is not destroyed 
 by laying a mattress on top of them as you have 
 done, and the frying pan is an abomination any 
 where. Certainly the cook stove will save Dan'l 
 much profanity in windy weather." 
 
 At the dining tent they were welcomed by 
 Dan'l, an old Irishman whom Vinton had con 
 tributed as cook for the party, and whom he had 
 sent from the east several days before. 
 
 " Dan'l is a queer old fellow," Vinton said, 
 as they left him setting the table for dinner. 
 " He was with me for several years during the 
 war, and when I left the Navy, insisted on follow 
 ing me. He is a very fair cook and can do any 
 kind of housework. Indeed, I find him well 
 nigh indispensable." 
 
 An hour later Dan'l demonstrated to the satis 
 faction of all that at least he was not a novice in 
 the kitchen, and the dinner of trout, bass and
 
 66 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 partridges, with a dessert of wild cranberry tarts, 
 might well have tempted even less voracious ap 
 petites. 
 
 To one who loves the woods, nothing is more 
 delightful, restful or comforting than a camp 
 fire on an autumn night. Aside from its genial 
 warmth there is something about it that appeals 
 to every temperament and mood. If you are 
 grave or weary you may draw your top coat over 
 your shoulders and build castles in the glowing 
 embers beneath the blazing logs. If your spirits 
 are light you can watch the tongues of flame as 
 they chase the sparks in their upward flight to 
 the branches overhead. Or if ill-humor posses 
 ses you, you may safely vent it by poking the 
 fire, feeling sure that its smouldering resentment 
 will soon die out. 
 
 Around such a fire the party gathered after 
 dinner and soon began to discuss the plans for 
 the morrow. Whitney and Vinton, enthusiastic 
 hunters always, having seen numerous signs of 
 deer on the road to camp, were desirous of mak 
 ing an early start in search of game. Madge 
 had learned from Charley that very few deer had 
 been seen in the immediate vicinity of the lake, 
 this being due, as he thought, in part to the 
 noise at the camp, but mainly to the fact that 
 there were wolves about. A few days before, 
 however, he had been at Elk Lake, some six
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 67 
 
 miles distant, and believed that much better 
 shooting could be had there. 
 
 It was agreed, therefore, that in the morning 
 the men should go with Charley to Elk Lake, 
 taking with them a shelter tent and provisions so 
 that they could remain over night, and, if they 
 failed to get a deer during the day they might 
 be sure of finding one with a head-light before 
 the moon came up. 
 
 "Night hunting is simply butchery," Madge 
 said to Whitney, as she saw him putting his 
 head-light in order ; " but perhaps it is justifiable 
 until we have meat in camp. I trust that you 
 will at least use a rifle if you do find it necessary 
 to shoot at night." 
 
 " I confess that I had planned to be more 
 barbarous," he answered, "and had loaded some 
 shells with buckshot ; but I will throw them out. 
 How will you and Mrs. Elting and Helen amuse 
 yourselves while we are gone ? " 
 
 " We shall be very busy, no doubt. Mrs. 
 Elting and Helen can provide the larder with 
 fish, and I hope to add a few partridges and 
 ducks. Besides, I must renew my acquaintance 
 with some of my old haunts. There will be much 
 to fill our time until you return. The days are 
 never too long in camp." 
 
 Moulton reluctantly consented to join the ex 
 pedition to Elk Lake.
 
 68 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " This sudden display of energy does not ap 
 peal to me at all," he said, as he returned from 
 his tent with his banjo, having left Whitney and 
 Vinton to make the preparations for the journey. 
 " I had looked forward to a lazy, restful day to 
 morrow, such a day as I have not had in the 
 woods since we were children in dear old Leam 
 ington." 
 
 " Do you remember that time ? " Helen 
 asked. " It seems very long ago to me." 
 
 Moulton paused a moment and then answered : 
 " Do I remember ? Listen." And in a low, 
 sweet voice he sang a quaint, simple, old song 
 that as children they had learned years before. 
 
 " What blessed memories that song revives," 
 Helen said, with a sigh, as he finished. " It is 
 very sweet. Why have you never sung it for me 
 before." 
 
 " It is scarcely a classic," Moulton answered 
 with a smile ; " and I had supposed that your 
 musical evolution had so far advanced that you 
 would not care for such an old-fashioned tune. 
 Intrinsically, of course, there is nothing to it, 
 but I cannot tell you the comfort it has brought 
 to me at times when I have been depressed 
 indigestion, you will say and when childhood 
 seemed to hold all that was honest in life." 
 
 " I can understand the feeling. Anyone can 
 who truly loves music. I, too, have an old song
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 69 
 
 Merrick calls it my morbid song that is a 
 comforter to me beyond everything else. When 
 the demon of despondency possesses me I turn 
 to the jdear old song and it brings an infinite 
 cense of peace and rest." 
 
 " Won't you sing it for me ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed. At least not to-night. I 
 am far from the mood for it now." 
 
 During the half hour that followed, Moulton 
 and Helen sat alone in front of the fire. Mrs. 
 Elting wished to write some letters, and Vinton 
 and Whitney were packing their bags and mak 
 ing ready for the morrow. The old song had 
 given the key note to their conversation and 
 together they reviewed scenes that each thought 
 the other had long since forgotten. An open 
 wood fire, always conducive to reminiscence, is 
 never so much so as with the accompaniment of 
 old music. 
 
 In a way, Moulton had seen much of the 
 Whitneys since his arrival in Chicago five years 
 before, but at that time Helen was in the very 
 whirl of society and he was seldom with her 
 alone. As a child, he had been devoted to her 
 above all others and it was no little disappoint 
 ment to him to find himself sharing with many 
 the friendship that years before he had in great 
 measure monopolized. But this night, as they 
 sat together on a low rustic bench mounted upon
 
 7O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 rude rockers, the vanity and hollowness of 
 society were as far away from them as were its 
 devotees. 
 
 " What a rejuvenator this woods life must 
 be," Moulton said at last. " I certainly do not 
 feel over eighteen to-night, and, alas ! I am 
 twenty-eight. I remember when that seemed at 
 least middle age to me. Fortunately our divi 
 sions of life change with the point of view." 
 
 " It is inconsiderate of you to suggest ap 
 proaching age at such a time," Helen answered. 
 " A moment ago I might have thought myself a 
 girl of fifteen but you remind me that I must 
 add a decade." 
 
 " Then let us forget our arithmetic in childish 
 fashion, or at least the sum of our years, and for 
 the next month measure time by our feelings 
 only. You are fifteen and I eighteen again." 
 And as he spoke Moulton found himself wish 
 ing that the flight of time might indeed turn 
 backward so far. 
 
 Vinton was the first to join them, and as he 
 did so he said: "Come down to the landing if 
 you would see a beautiful view. The moon is 
 just rising above the pines on the opposite 
 shore." 
 
 Helen ran to the tent for Mrs. Elting and 
 Madge and together they followed Vinton and 
 Moulton. The sky was almost without a cloud,
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. "Jl 
 
 and there was just enough wind to ripple the 
 path of light across the surface of the lake and 
 bend the slender rushes that rose from the shal 
 low water. The eastern shore was black with 
 the deep shadows of the trees, but where the 
 light fell the white beach gleamed, with here 
 and there some fallen giant of the forest lying 
 across it, while all around the shore others lifted 
 high their arms in sharp silhouette against the 
 sky. So still was the night that the jumping of 
 the fish far out in the lake broke the quiet, and 
 the occasional crackling of the fire logs was as 
 distinct as a pistol shot. From the woods far 
 beyond the opposite shore the"Whoo; whoo- 
 whoo; whoo-whoo " of an owl came like the 
 cry of a human voice, causing Helen to ask in a 
 whisper : 
 
 " Did you hear that, Madge ? Is it some one 
 lost?" 
 
 " No, Helen dear, that is the voice of one 
 who is never lost in the night. It is the ' lord 
 of the midnight wood,' as Barry Cornwall calls 
 him the hoot owl. His grewsome cry may be 
 a love song to his mate or perhaps a fierce chal 
 lenge to some rival in her affections miles away. 
 You must get accustomed to this nightingale of 
 the northern woods, for he is no respecter of 
 slumber and you may hear his call from the tree 
 above your tent. Let us go to bed in the hope
 
 72 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 that to-night, at least, we may be spared his 
 serenade." 
 
 As they returned from the landing, good 
 night was said, and within a half hour the camp 
 was hushed except for the occasional snapping 
 of the fire, the flickering light of which cast 
 fantastic shadows on the tents.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BY noon of the day after his arrival in Keat 
 ing, Ferris had completed his inspection of 
 the works and was ready to start for Chicago, 
 but on the receipt of Moulton's letter, he de 
 cided to spend a few days at Round Lake Camp 
 before his return. Burton had passed the night 
 with him at Brent's house, and having waited 
 for the mail, joined his urgent invitation to 
 Moulton's. The trail that they were to take led 
 through the woods on the side of the town op 
 posite the mine, and as they rode down the 
 single street they saw many changes betokening 
 the return of industrial life to the place. The 
 men had apparently put off their slothful habits 
 in the night and were busying themselves in 
 work that must be done before the following 
 day. The women sang through their household 
 duties and the children shouted in their play as 
 if the wolf of starvation which had prowled 
 about their dwellings for months, had already 
 been driven from the door ; and if the horsemen 
 could have heard the many benedictions that 
 were given them as they rode along, it might 
 73
 
 74 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 have sorely endangered their modesty. But it 
 was enough for Ferris to know that he had ac 
 complished his work and was at last understood 
 by his men, while Burton found ample recom 
 pense in the opportunity that had been given 
 him to "observe phases of human character 
 under somewhat peculiar conditions," as he ex 
 pressed it. 
 
 Leaving the town, they passed on to an old 
 logging road that ran through a long stretch of 
 Norway pines. The narrow road was but little 
 used except by Burton and was covered with 
 pine needles, with here and there an open place 
 in which the sunlight encouraged the berry 
 bushes and grass. Under the heat of the after 
 noon sun the air was laden with the incense of 
 the pines, and Ferris again and again breathed 
 long and deep as if to crowd from his lungs the 
 last vestiges of the bad air and soot of the city. 
 
 "Is it not too bad that we cannot have such 
 air as this in our cities, where the great mass of 
 the people must overwork to keep soul and body 
 together? " he said, as they rode side by side. 
 
 "As a humanitarian, I say yes," replied Bur 
 ton, "although it would be disastrous to my pro 
 fession. Has it never struck you as remarkable, 
 the disregard with which the matter of pure air 
 is treated? It is a singular inconsistency of our 
 race. We may be exceedingly careful, superfi-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 75 
 
 cially, at least, as to the cleanliness and purity 
 of our food and drink and clothing, and yet 
 when it comes to that which is most essential to 
 the nourishment of life, the air we breathe, we 
 are strangely indifferent. Of course there is 
 much time in the life of a city man or woman in 
 which the lungs must be taxed in screening and 
 straining bad air, but on the other hand, there 
 is much time spent, particularly by the well-to- 
 do, under conditions in which pure air is a pos 
 sibility." 
 
 "You have evidently decided views in regard 
 to ventilation." 
 
 " Yes, and yet I was not thinking of ventila 
 tion merely, but rather of purification. Ventila 
 tion is, of course, a good thing even if we simply 
 supply fresh bad air in place of stale bad air. 
 But how much better and more reasonable it 
 would be to filter and purify the air we supply 
 to our lungs precisely as we filter the water that 
 we furnish our stomachs when its purity is ques 
 tionable. Take, for example, two hotels in the 
 heart of a great city, would you or any sane per 
 son hesitate in choosing between them if one 
 supplied its sleeping rooms, its reading room 
 and its dining room with purified air, while the 
 other did not? And the matter is quite easy of 
 accomplishment, and at surprisingly small cost. 
 I gave this no little thought years ago, but I
 
 76 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 found in the end that the problem had been 
 practically solved long before and that the 
 trouble lay chiefly in the failure of the public to 
 profit by its solution." 
 
 In the three hours' ride from the town to 
 Burton's cabin, the two men learned much of 
 each other. They were enough alike in many 
 respects to be thoroughly congenial, yet differ 
 ent enough to be mutually interesting. Ferris 
 had imagined that Burton probably had wealth 
 sufficient to warrant his giving up the practice 
 of his profession and spending most of his time 
 in the woods or in travel. But he found that he 
 was anything but an idler, and that his familiar 
 ity with current scientific matters proved him an 
 earnest student of affairs. 
 
 Burton's cabin, or rather cabins, for there 
 were two, stood a few rods from the bank of the 
 stream, along which the trees had been cleared 
 away, except a few at the water's edge. The 
 cabins were not set vis-a-vis, in the conventional 
 manner of logging camps, but both fronted on 
 the clearing and stood about a hundred feet 
 apart. The smaller was divided into two rooms, 
 one serving as a sleeping room for Adam, the 
 negro cook, and Joe, the Indian guide, and 
 the other as kitchen and dining room. The 
 larger cabin had three apartments. The front 
 one was Burton's bed room -, back of this were
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 77 
 
 two smaller rooms, one communicating with the 
 front room and the other cut off from it and en 
 tered only by a side door. This last was the 
 guest room. Burton called the apartment lead 
 ing from his bed room, his work shop, but it 
 was in truth a well equipped laboratory. 
 
 After they had dismounted and Ferris had 
 put away his saddle bags and rod, Burton in 
 vited him to inspect the place. They first en 
 tered the kitchen, where Adam, in white cap and 
 apron, went about his work of preparing the 
 dinner like a veteran chef. 
 
 " I don't think that Adam approves of the 
 woods," said Burton, as they left the kitchen. 
 " He protests each year against coming, yet 
 refuses to be left at home. He was raised by 
 my father and seems to feel a paternal interest 
 in me, and although he must be nearly sixty he 
 is energetic beyond any negro I ever knew, and 
 knows how to cook." 
 
 As they left the kitchen they saw Joe coming 
 from the woods with a shotgun in one hand and 
 a brace of grouse in the other. He was not a 
 full-blooded Indian, although nearly as dark. 
 His eyes were large, his hair was finer and he 
 was shorter and more thick-set than his Chip- 
 pewa brethren. 
 
 "This is my man Friday," said Burton to 
 Ferris, as Joe came toward them. "Joe, my
 
 78 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 friend Mr. Ferris wants some fishing and you 
 must get it for him to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, I find him, Tom," replied Joe, de 
 lighted at the suggestion of a trip on the river. 
 " Big trout down by rapids. Big buck, too, if 
 him want one." 
 
 "What a blood-thirsty fellow the red man is," 
 said Burton, as they walked across to the other 
 cabin, while Joe took his game to the kitchen. 
 " As long as there is a drop of Indian blood, 
 you are sure to find an instinctive desire to 
 slaughter game. Still, I am gradually civilizing 
 Joe ; he has learned to appreciate the difference 
 between fishing with a rod and fly and using the 
 old-fashioned pole and line, and is ready to ad 
 mit that still-hunting with a 40-82 rifle is a more 
 worthy way to kill deer than night-hunting 
 with a musket and buckshot. Most of the tro 
 phies in this room," added Burton, as they en 
 tered his sleeping room, " are the work of Joe's 
 rifle." 
 
 Ferris gave an exclamation of delight and 
 surprise as he looked about the room. The floors 
 were covered with skins of bear, deer, otter, and 
 other fur animals found in the woods and streams 
 thereabouts, and on the walls were several fine 
 deer heads and horns, while over the stone fire 
 place hung the head of a buck elk. The furni 
 ture consisted of several chairs of rustic pattern,
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 79 
 
 a table, a book-case, a dressing-case and a bed 
 of heavy and simple design. 
 
 "You did not kill this in these woods, surely?" 
 said Ferris, after examining the head to satisfy 
 himself that it was indeed an elk. 
 
 "No," replied Burton, "I did not kill it, 
 yet it was killed about twelve years ago within 
 twenty miles of this spot. It must have been 
 the last of its kind in these parts for I have never 
 heard of one having been seen on the peninsula 
 since, and it was supposed that they had been 
 killed off or driven out long before. It was shot 
 by a little girl, my niece, then only fourteen 
 years old. You will meet her to-morrow when 
 you go to Round Lake, but you must not speak 
 of this head before her." 
 
 "I should think she might well be proud of 
 such a trophy." 
 
 "On the contrary, she is very much ashamed 
 of it, and after I had the head mounted, declined 
 to have it in our house. The fact is, she is a 
 stickler for the ethics of the chase, and as she 
 shot it in the water, she does not like to be re 
 minded of what she considers a most unsports- 
 manly act. I never recall the incident without 
 smiling. I was botanizing about five miles from 
 our old camp on Round Lake, and had left her 
 with my rifle on the shore of a smaller lake 
 while I went to look for orchids in a tamarack
 
 8o OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 swamp several miles away. She had made a 
 little shelter of hemlock boughs and was tucked 
 under it reading, when this old fellow crashed 
 through the brush on the opposite side of the 
 lake, plunged into the water, and began swim 
 ming toward her. She had never seen so large 
 a wild animal in the woods and her first womanly 
 impulse was to scream, but she kept still, think 
 ing he might turn to one side. He continued 
 to swim straight toward her, and in her fright 
 she aimed and shot him through the head. I 
 heard the shot, hurried back and found her in 
 tears. ' Take me home, oh take me home, Uncle 
 Tom, I shot him in the water,' was all she said 
 when I praised the shot. On our way to camp 
 she asked to have Joe take the meat to a neigh 
 boring lumber camp and begged me not to re 
 mind her of the matter again." 
 
 Burton noted with pleasure the look of sur 
 prise on Ferris's face, as they entered the door of 
 the "work-shop" and closed it behind them. 
 
 "You will not care to remain in here very 
 long, as I am keeping the temperature at eighty- 
 five and the air very moist on account of experi 
 ments I am making with certain fungi. It is 
 really surprising how unsatisfactory the books are 
 in regard to some of these, particularly when 
 you consider what an important part they play 
 in the chemistry of every-day life. I have just
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 8 1 
 
 concluded several experiments in yeast culture 
 that I was led to make after reading of the 
 remarkable results obtained with the Japanese 
 fungus, Koji, a smut grown on rice. I pro 
 cured some of it after much trouble, but soon 
 found that practically the same results could be 
 had with the smut of corn or almost any other 
 cereal, and I am experimenting now with com 
 mon molds or fungi of various kinds. This sort 
 of work is my hobby, but I have ridden it to 
 advantage, for with the aid of my niece, who is 
 particularly fond of chemistry, I have succeeded 
 in reaching results, the patents on which pay us 
 a very snug income in royalties. So it is we 
 profit by the ignorance and laziness of our fel 
 lows." 
 
 It was seven o'clock when Adam announced 
 dinner, and here again was a surprise for Ferris, 
 for the meal, deliciously cooked and daintily 
 served, proved that Adam was indeed a master of 
 his art. The old negro showed that he was also 
 accustomed to order the household affairs, for 
 when Burton asked if they were to have no 
 coffee, he replied : " Your coffee will be served 
 in your room this evening, Mr. Thomas." 
 
 " Which means, Ferris, that Adam wants to 
 get rid of us now. Well, we will go ; he is 
 master here." 
 
 In Burton's room they found a bright fire
 
 82 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 that Joe had built, and above it swung a crane 
 with a kettle of boiling water from which the 
 coffee was soon made. Over this and their cigars 
 the plans for the morrow were discussed. It was 
 decided that Joe should paddle Ferris to the 
 rapids about fifteen miles down stream ; from 
 there he could fish the river two miles to the 
 logging road that ran to Round Lake camp. 
 With the aid of his map Burton soon gave his 
 guest a fair idea of the country through which 
 he would pass, and as the camp was only a mile 
 from the river, and the logging road very plain, 
 he suggested that he could fish until nearly 
 sunset and still reach the camp in time for 
 dinner. 
 
 " Would it not be better to walk from here to 
 the rapids ?" asked Ferris, as he saw by the map 
 that in a straight line the distance to Round 
 Lake was much shorter than by the river. 
 
 "There are two fatal objections to that," 
 answered Burton. " In the first place, you would 
 disappoint Joe, who is never so happy as when 
 showing his skill with the paddle, and in the 
 second place, the trail, if it can be called one, is 
 as bad as can be. It was run by the compass 
 through swamps and windfalls and altogether 
 without regard to the comfort of the traveller. 
 No, you will enjoy the ride to the rapids and 
 will find exercise enough after you reach them,
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 83 
 
 in climbing over rocks and fallen logs, but you 
 will get good fishing, I am sure." 
 
 It was agreed that as Burton could not go 
 with Ferris because of his laboratory work, he 
 would make the same trip on the day following. 
 
 There was a remarkable congeniality between 
 these two, and they lingered, discussing a wide 
 range of topics until nearly midnight. They 
 had become friends, and as occasion offered each 
 was told something of the other's life. Burton 
 was forty-nine years old, although he looked 
 much younger. He was born and had lived in 
 the little town of Lewes on the Delaware coast 
 until he was twenty-five, with the exception of 
 six years spent at college and in hospital work. 
 On the death of an uncle in Detroit, he was left 
 a fortune ample enough to enable him to follow 
 his studies in chemistry and medicine without 
 practicing the latter; and, what was more to him, 
 I . the management of the property took him from 
 Lewes, where everything had gone wrong after 
 the death of his young wife six months before. 
 He took with him the little girl, whom he had 
 practically although not formally adopted shortly 
 before his wife's death, and these two lived with 
 his invalid aunt, who, with their cheerful com 
 panionship, still lingered at the age of eighty. 
 
 "My little girl has grown to be a woman 
 now," said Burton, with a half sigh, " and has
 
 84 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 not been in the woods for two years, during 
 much of which time she has been abroad. We 
 used to camp each summer at Round Lake, and 
 Adam's cabin yonder was built as a shelter on 
 our fishing trips. I have kept the cabin at the 
 Lake in repair, and I assure you it will give me 
 pleasure to see her in the woods again, for no 
 environment fits her so well. This is her pho 
 tograph," he added, after a moment's pause, 
 handing Ferris a picture from the dressing- 
 case. 
 
 " Why, surely," said Ferris in surprise, " I 
 have seen this face. Has she been in Chicago?" 
 
 " Never, until a few days ago. We have 
 always come here by boat from Detroit to Es- 
 canaba and from there by wagon into camp." 
 
 Soon after this Ferris went to his room and 
 fell asleep trying to recall where he had seen the 
 familiar face of the photograph. He knew no 
 more until he was aroused by Adam's announce 
 ment of " Breakfast in half hour, sah," and found 
 the sun streaming in at his window. 
 
 After breakfast and a cigar with Burton, Fer 
 ris and Joe started down the river in a long, 
 narrow "dug-out" of the latter's handiwork, 
 Ferris seated on the bottom near the bow and 
 Joe kneeling near the stern. It was a disap 
 pointment to the Indian that Ferris took no rifle 
 with him, as hunting was more to his liking than
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 85 
 
 fishing. For several miles after leaving the cabins 
 the river, scarcely thirty feet wide, ran in rather 
 sluggish course between banks hedged with 
 thickets of alders and heavy underbrush, then 
 through tamaracks and cedars and low ground. 
 Further on it passed the foot of a high hill, the 
 heavy timber of which grew to the water's edge 
 on one side, while on the other there stretched 
 a broad meadow of rank grass, dotted with 
 bunches of small trees and bushes on the higher 
 points of ground. 
 
 Suddenly the boat stopped and Joe whis 
 pered : 
 
 " Keep still, deer coming in." 
 
 Ferris could see nothing in the hundred yards 
 of open water before them, but the quick eye of 
 the Indian was not at fault. He had seen the 
 bending of a bush at the turn of the river such 
 as the light breeze blowing up stream could not 
 have made. Ferris heard the breaking of a 
 twig, then the splash of a buck walking in the 
 water and in a moment he appeared around the 
 bend and in midstream before them. With 
 head in air. he looked toward them but the In 
 dian knelt as motionless as a statue and with his 
 paddle held the boat as in a vise. Then as the 
 deer turned slightly and splashed the water with 
 his nose, still walking toward them, the canoe 
 shot forward slightly faster than the current,
 
 86 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 twenty yards, to stop again as the deer raised 
 his head. This was repeated and they were now 
 within forty yards. 
 
 "Surely, he must see us," thought Ferris. 
 
 But no, he crossed the stream slowly and be 
 gan to nip the tops of the tall grasses at the 
 water's edge, while the canoe, carried by the 
 current, was steered towards him by the motion 
 less Indian. Then with a mighty stroke the 
 canoe was driven forward. There was a bound, 
 a cracking of brush, and with terrified snorts 
 the deer was gone. 
 
 There was an expression of self-satisfaction 
 on Joe's face as he swung the boat into mid 
 stream again, but he only said : 
 
 " Him fine buck. Too bad, no gun." 
 
 As they continued down stream Ferris leaned 
 back upon his fish basket, and shading his eyes 
 with his hands, watched in dreamy mood the 
 drifting clouds and the overhanging branches of 
 the trees along the banks. Again he recalled 
 the photograph Burton showed him and tried to 
 remember where he had known that face. But 
 the canoe is now approaching the rapids and 
 Joe tells him to get ready his rod and flies. By 
 the time he has done this they are darting past 
 the boulders in the narrow channel and in a 
 moment more the boat is held against the rapid 
 current, while Ferris has forgotten everything save
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 87 
 
 the three-pound trout that is struggling for free 
 dom at the end of his line. 
 
 This was indeed sport after his own heart, 
 for Ferris was an enthusiastic fisherman. Never 
 before had he met with such a perfect master of 
 the paddle as Joe, and he would gladly have 
 foregone his luncheon had not the Indian re 
 minded him after the third trout had been cap 
 tured, that it was "dinner time, may be." On 
 the bank of the stream a short distance below 
 the rapids, Joe soon built a small fire of dry 
 sticks and birch bark. While the water was 
 boiling for the coffee he cleaned two of the 
 trout, and skillfully fixing them upon forked 
 sticks broiled them above the glowing embers. 
 The luncheon that Adam had put up for them 
 was then spread out and found to contain a cold 
 partridge, besides bread and butter, cookies and 
 a glass of wild cranberry sauce. From a neigh 
 boring birch tree Joe stripped several broad 
 sheets of bark that made excellent plates, and 
 a luncheon that would have delighted a lover of 
 the woods more than the most epicurean feast, 
 was ready. 
 
 During the meal and in the half hour after, 
 while they enjoyed their pipes, these two men, 
 the one a child of the forest and the other no 
 less a lover of it, found much to talk of, for 
 in reality the extremes of civilization are not as
 
 88 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 far apart as they seem. Joe's father was a full- 
 blooded Chippewa Indian, and his mother a Cana 
 dian French woman, but while the child of this 
 union had inherited a compromise complexion, 
 the Indian traits were strongly predominant. It 
 was a surprise to Ferris, however, to discover 
 how little Joe knew of the history of his people 
 and how scant was his store of tradition. With 
 eager interest he listened while Ferris told what 
 he knew of the Chippewa tribe and its Algon 
 quin brethren, its battles for existence and its 
 wanderings, until the remnant found an abiding 
 place in the northern woods, where proximity to 
 the white man saved it from extermination by its 
 fiercer and more powerful foes. It is fortunate 
 that our Indian lore was gathered before the inter 
 marrying with the whites began, for miscegena 
 tion is disastrous to tradition. The story of 
 La Salle, as Ferris touched upon it briefly, seemed 
 to awaken a memory, for the Indian said : 
 
 " Him great buck. I heard old squaw tell of 
 him some time." But the story of his father's 
 people was a revelation to him. 
 
 After giving Ferris a few simple directions 
 how to find the Round Lake trail, some two 
 miles farther down, Joe pushed off his boat and 
 with sturdy stroke was soon above the rapids 
 and beyond the bend of the river. Reluctantly, 
 Ferris left the pool below the rapids and
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 89 
 
 began fishing down stream. As he went, the 
 current became more swift and the banks of the 
 stream more precipitous and difficult to fish 
 from, but the occasional pools, although at 
 times hard to reach, invariably repaid his 
 efforts with one or more additions to his small 
 fish basket until it was nearly full. At length 
 he saw, at some distance ahead, a tall pine, the 
 blazed trunk of which he knew marked the road 
 he would take to camp ; but between him and 
 it was a stretch of rapids, the still water at the 
 end of which gave promise of a happy climax 
 to his day's sport. To reach this spot was no 
 easy matter, for on one side the bank of the 
 stream had caved in, dumping a mass of rocks 
 at the edge of the pool and overturning a giant 
 hemlock, the trunk of which had fallen across 
 the stream while its roots still clung to the top 
 of the bank from which it had fallen. From 
 this tree, if he could get upon it, he could easily 
 command the pool. Scaling the bank with some 
 difficulty, he reached the tree and climbed over 
 its projecting roots. Holding fast to one of 
 these he made a cast, but the flies fell short 
 owing to his height above the water level. 
 Swinging his flies to the opposite side of the 
 tree to cast again, he had begun to unreel the line, 
 when the rotten bark on which he stood gave 
 way and he fell upon the mass of rocks below.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN Ferris regained consciousness his 
 first sensation was that of intense pain, 
 and as he tried to move the suffering caused 
 him to groan. Then he realized that his head 
 was being supported and he heard a soft voice 
 say : 
 
 " Poor fellow," and a moment later, "won't 
 you try to get up ? You are in the water and I 
 am afraid you will be chilled." 
 
 Opening his eyes he met the gaze of the 
 face that he had seen so often since Burton 
 showed him the photograph the night before. 
 
 "This is very good of you, Miss Seaton. I 
 must have had a bad fall. Yes, I think I can 
 get up. Ah ! that left arm is broken," he 
 added as it hung helplessly at his side, while he 
 allowed himself to be raised to a sitting posi 
 tion. 
 
 Looking down, the sight of the pool of 
 blood where his head had struck the rocks made 
 him feel faint again and he closed his eyes. 
 
 "Do you think you are strong enough to 
 stand?" Madge said in persuasive tones. "Your 
 90
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. QI 
 
 feet are in the water and it is very cold. Let 
 me help you and if you can walk just a little 
 way you will find a warm fire and a comfortable 
 bed. Now put your right arm on my shoulder 
 and I am sure we shall get on nicely." 
 
 Ferris did as he was bidden and felt himself 
 lifted to his feet, which were so numb that it 
 was with difficulty he could stand. He looked 
 up at the steep bank from which he had fallen 
 and then at the river and said helplessly : 
 
 " There seems no alternative but swimming 
 to get away from here." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered with a smile, " the 
 water is not very deep, not above your waist and 
 you can wade across, I am sure." 
 
 " But won't you get wet," he said in faint pro 
 test. " Surely you must be already." 
 
 " I do not mind at all. I am quite used to 
 wet feet when I am in the woods." 
 
 Ferris tried to take a step forward without her 
 help, but in doing so nearly fell again. 
 
 " Perhaps you had better sit here while I go to 
 camp for help. It will take me only a few 
 minutes." 
 
 " Pray do not go," he answered. " I am sure I 
 can do better, at least if you will let me take 
 your arm." 
 
 With his right arm resting on her shoulder 
 and her left supporting much of his weight, they
 
 92 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 succeeded in reaching the opposite bank, and 
 Ferris rested against the tall pine, the old 
 blaze on which showed the trail to Round 
 Lake. It was a long and weary mile for Ferris 
 from the river to the camp, and many times he 
 found himself involuntarily leaning heavily upon 
 his companion's arm. But she protested that he 
 did not allow her to help him, as an invalid 
 should, and in her happy way encouraged him 
 to bear up when he felt that to drag himself an 
 other step was next to a physical impossibility. 
 
 It was nearly dark when they came in sight 
 of the tents and a loud "halloa" from Madge 
 brought old Dan'l, who had just started the 
 camp fire and was waiting her return before serv 
 ing the dinner. With Dan'l's help Ferris was 
 quickly relieved of his wet clothing, and after get 
 ting into a suit of Vinton's pajamas was put to 
 bed on a cot that Dan'l brought from his own tent. 
 
 " Good liquor is a great enemy of water, we 
 sailors think," said Dan'l, as he administered a 
 liberal draught of what he called the best liquor 
 this side of salt water, " though some folks don't 
 seem to know it, judging from the way they mix 
 'em together," he observed, as he helped Ferris 
 into bed. 
 
 "Can I come in now?" asked Mrs. Elting, as 
 she heard Dan'l wish Ferris a good-night and 
 assure him that he would feel " like a jack-tar on
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 93 
 
 a shore day " in the morning. The old servant 
 did not know it was taxing to the utmost poor 
 Ferris's endurance to bear in silence the agony 
 he was suffering. 
 
 "Yes, thanks," answered Ferris, and Mrs. 
 Elting entered bringing with her such things as 
 might be needed in dressing his wounded head 
 and arm. Gently she removed from his head the 
 hastily improvised bandage that Madge had 
 placed there, a small soft handkerchief now 
 soaked with blood from the wound it covered 
 above the temple, and held in place by the braid 
 torn from her skirt. Then with her scissors she 
 cut away the hair, bathed the wound with tepid 
 water, and drawing the edges together, applied 
 strips of adhesive plaster with the skill of a sur 
 geon. She realized her helplessness as she cut 
 away the sleeve of the left arm and saw how 
 badly it was broken ; the small bone below the 
 elbow protruding almost through the skin. This 
 was work, indeed, for a surgeon. As she lifted 
 the arm slightly to place it in a more natural 
 position she heard Ferris grind his teeth together 
 and stifle a groan. Carefully she wound a broad, 
 soft bandage around it, not feeling quite certain 
 that this was the right thing to do. 
 
 By the time she had finished this and had 
 bathed his face, Ferris began to breathe heavily. 
 The terrible shock, the loss of blood, the excru-
 
 Q4 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ciating pain, the weary walk had exhausted his 
 strength and for a short time, at least, he would 
 forget them all. But it was only for a little 
 while, for soon he began to move nervously and 
 groan in his sleep, and in less than an hour was 
 awake again. He did not at once recognize his 
 surroundings, but in a moment the thought of 
 what had happened and where he was came to 
 him. Mrs. Elting still sat by his side and his 
 eyes were very bright as he caught hers and with 
 a faint smile thanked her for her care. With 
 motherly gentleness she placed her hand upon 
 his forehead and found that he was in a fever. 
 She was not easily alarmed, yet she had learned 
 enough of illness to know that under the cir 
 cumstances he might be in danger. Promising 
 to return in a few minutes, she went to find 
 Madge and determine with her aid whether it 
 might be possible to direct Dan'l so that he 
 could find Dr. Burton's cabin and get him to 
 Ferris without delay. Madge, who was sitting 
 before the smouldering camp fire, hastened to 
 Mrs. Elting when she saw her come from the tent. 
 
 " Is there anything I can do, Dora ? " she in 
 quired anxiously. 
 
 "No, nothing, dear, unless you can direct 
 Dan'l how to get to your uncle's. Mr. Ferris is 
 in much pain, but what worries me more is that 
 he is very feverish. Now you must not be
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 95 
 
 alarmed, but if you think Dan'l can find his way 
 by the river or through the woods to Dr. Burton's 
 cabin, I am sure that he had better start at once. 
 You see the men will not return from Elk Lake 
 before to-morrow noon, if so soon, and Charley 
 may not come with them if he has to carry in 
 the venison. Do you think Dan'l can find the 
 way at night ? " 
 
 "No, I am certain he could not. The trail 
 by the river is nearly twenty miles and almost 
 impassable. The trail through the woods has 
 not been blazed for years and I scarcely think he 
 could follow it by daylight. No, Dan'l cannot 
 go, but I will, and at once," she added. 
 
 " But, my dear child, that is impossible. You 
 must not subject yourself to the danger of going 
 alone through these woods at night. Besides, 
 you have had a hard day already, and must be 
 very tired. Suppose you should get lost? I 
 could never forgive myself." 
 
 "Now, Dora dear," answered Madge, "it is 
 good of you to think of me, but you must not 
 worry. There is no danger in these woods at 
 night no animal that will not run from the 
 human voice ; and as to my getting lost, I know 
 every foot of the way, for these woods are like 
 home to me. So you see there is really no cause 
 to worry, and I will return with uncle in the 
 morning."
 
 96 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 In vain Mrs. Elting protested against her 
 going, for Madge realized the pressing need of 
 her uncle's presence in this extremity. 
 
 Hastily she made her preparations for the 
 journey, which she knew must be a hard one, 
 since as Burton had told Ferris, the trail was as 
 bad as could be and it was a long twelve miles. 
 She was indeed tired and the sight of food re 
 pelled her, yet she ate a light dinner, knowing 
 that she would need strength for the journey. 
 In her pocket she took a few crackers, a box 
 of matches and a compass, and fastened to her 
 belt a small hunting knife and her revolver. In 
 one hand she carried her tent lantern and in the 
 other a woolen jacket. 
 
 There is something solemn, impressive, awe- 
 inspiring, about a dense forest in the night. 
 The utter stillness, save for the uncanny sounds 
 of insect life that are heard at no other time, the 
 towering blackness of the trees, which seem so 
 much taller than by daylight, the queer shapes 
 of broken trunks and branches, the occasional 
 phosphorescence of a rotten stump all con 
 tribute to quicken the heart-beats even of one 
 who knows and loves the solitude of the woods. 
 And so it was that while Madge felt no fear of 
 anything tangible, there was that indefinite dread 
 or nervousness which is apt to come to even the 
 bravest, when subjected to the imaginary prob-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. Q7 
 
 ability of meeting some mysterious foe. While 
 she knew this trail and could have followed it 
 easily by day, she soon realized how different 
 and unfamiliar it was by night, and often was 
 forced to slacken her pace and search for the 
 obscure blazes that in many places had been ob 
 literated by the natural growth of the trees on 
 which they were made. Yet she knew that if 
 the trail were lost it would be far more difficult, 
 if not impossible in the darkness, to find her 
 way by the compass. Each familiar landmark 
 gladdened her heart ; even the long stretch of 
 burnt-over windfall covered with its growth of 
 briar bushes that scratched her hands and tore 
 her gown, and the dense boggy tamarack 
 swamp that in daylight she would have walked 
 around to avoid wetting her feet, no longer 
 daunted her. Once she sat down to rest for a 
 little while on a fallen tree, and involuntarily 
 the tears rolled down her face, for she knew that 
 she had covered only half the distance and she 
 was tired almost to exhaustion. " Courage, cour 
 age," she said to herself, and again and again 
 silently prayed for strength to reach her desti 
 nation. 
 
 At last through the woods she saw the open 
 ing where the river ran, and quickening her gait 
 she crossed the bridge and was at the door of 
 Burton's cabin. How her heart beat and her
 
 98 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 temples throbbed ! She knocked on the door 
 and waited a moment, but no answer. What if 
 he had been called to Keating, she thought. 
 Again she knocked louder than before, and this 
 time called : 
 
 "Uncle Tom, come quickly." 
 
 In a moment she heard a door open at the 
 other end of the cabin and saw Burton running 
 towards her. 
 
 "What has happened, Madge dear?" he said, 
 taking her outstretched hands as she sank to the 
 bench beside the door. " How did you get 
 here? You are ill, child. Were there no men 
 in your camp that you should make this journey 
 alone? Did Mr. Ferris know that you came 
 alone?" 
 
 Madge had collapsed under the long strain 
 through which she had passed and sobbed pite- 
 ously as Burton questioned her rapidly. 
 
 "In a moment, Uncle dear, I will tell you 
 all," she said, as she wiped her eyes and tried to 
 speak. " Mr. Ferris has met with a dreadful ac 
 cident. He has broken his arm and cut his 
 head and you must go to him at once;" and 
 again the sobs choked her voice. " Oh, do 
 hurry and get ready, Uncle Tom, and I will tell 
 you all afterwards." 
 
 "But, my child, I must take care of you be 
 fore I can go to Ferris. Now lie down in this
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 99 
 
 room," he said, as he opened the door at which 
 she had knocked, " and I will return in a mo 
 ment." 
 
 He hurried away without heeding her protest 
 that he must not stop to think of her, and soon 
 had Adam and Joe at work, the one building a 
 fire in the guest room and the other filling the 
 lantern and getting together and packing into a 
 small bag such things as he had suitable or could 
 improvise for the surgical work before him. 
 During this time Adam had made for Madge a 
 hot cup of tea and had brought a hot foot bath. 
 When Burton returned, he found her resting 
 quietly, the old negro hovering about her with 
 a devotion characteristic of his race. In as few 
 words as possible, she told how she had found 
 Ferris after his fall, how Mrs. Elting had dressed 
 his wound, and how after a brief sleep he had 
 grown restless and feverish. A look of anxiety 
 came into Burton's face, and noticing it, she 
 said : 
 
 " Do you think Mr. Ferris's injuries may be 
 very serious?" 
 
 " Oh, no, broken arms are not apt to be seri 
 ous, but I think I may save him considerable 
 pain, and I will lose no time in getting to him." 
 
 Bidding Madge good-bye, and promising to 
 send Joe to fetch her by the river the next day, 
 he returned to his laboratory for some addi-
 
 TOO OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tional drugs and then with the Indian started 
 over the trail by which she had come. 
 
 It was midnight when they left the cabins 
 and the clouded moon dimly lighted the woods. 
 Joe scarcely needed the lantern that he carried 
 to show him the trail, for he knew it by night 
 as well as by day, and the bent grass and up 
 turned moss showed him as plainly the way 
 Madge had come as if her foot-prints had been 
 made in snow. It was with effort that Burton 
 followed him, but he had told him to lose no 
 time and he was obeying to the letter. It had 
 taken Madge four hours to make the distance 
 that they covered in three. As they approached 
 the camp the Indian stopped an instant, for his 
 keen ear had heard an unusual sound and he 
 said : 
 
 "Listen, Tom, him fight." 
 
 "Go on," Burton answered sharply, hurrying 
 rapidly forward. As they neared the tents the 
 noises grew louder and more distinct. In his 
 hospital work he had heard such sounds, and he 
 quickly detected Ferris's voice speaking in the 
 tone of intense excitement peculiar to delirium. 
 
 He paused a moment outside the tent and 
 from a small phial carefully filled a hypodermic 
 syringe ; then making a slight noise to attract 
 Mrs. Elting's attention, he waited until she came 
 out followed by Dan'l. As he entered the tent
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. IOI 
 
 Ferris endeavored to rise, but his strength was 
 exhausted and he sank back upon the bed with 
 a groan. He did not recognize Burton nor did 
 he apparently feel the needle of the syringe as it 
 entered his bared arm. The effect of the drug 
 was quick and in an incoherent way he mur 
 mured : 
 
 " Bring her back again, won't you ? I prom 
 ise you can have what you want. Let me see 
 her again before I go, just a little while. She 
 was so good to me and I did not thank her. 
 Ah, this is cruel," and closing his eyes he 
 breathed heavily. 
 
 Burton waited a few minutes to be sure that 
 Ferris was under the influence of the drug and 
 then went outside the tent. 
 
 "I think Mr. Ferris will get on comfortably," 
 he said to Mrs. Elting whom he found anxiously 
 waiting with Helen. " I will look after him 
 now and you must get some rest." 
 
 " Is there nothing we can do, Doctor?" Helen 
 asked. "I am not at all sleepy." 
 
 " No, there is nothing that will be so good 
 for him as perfect rest. As soon as may be I 
 will ascertain how seriously his head is injured. 
 The broken arm is of little consequence." 
 
 Thus reassured Mrs. Elting and Helen went 
 to their tent and Burton returned to Ferris. 
 
 " Spread your blanket in the corner, Joe, and
 
 IO2 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 get some sleep," he said, as he entered the tent. 
 " I shall want you to go to the cabins in the 
 morning." 
 
 Within a few minutes the deep breathing of 
 the Indian told how easy he found obedience to 
 this order. Later Burton examined the wound 
 upon Ferris's head and was relieved to find that 
 the skull was not fractured. He knew from this 
 that unless the concussion had been more seri 
 ous than was evidenced by the scalp wound, his 
 patient, with a few hours' rest, would be out of 
 danger, if the fever could be promptly checked. 
 After filling the tent stove with fresh wood, he 
 waited patiently for the fever to subside as the 
 temperature of the tent increased. In this he 
 was not disappointed, and within a few hours 
 the danger in this direction had passed. 
 
 It was broad daylight when Ferris awoke and 
 found Burton at his side with splints in readi 
 ness to set the broken arm. With Joe's assist 
 ance this was soon accomplished, although not 
 without much pain. 
 
 Having made his patient as comfortable as 
 possible and left him to the tender care of Mrs. 
 Elting, with directions as to some simple medi 
 cine to induce sleep and prevent the return of 
 the fever, Burton sent Joe to his cabins to bring 
 Madge, and then went to bed in Vinton's tent. 
 At intervals during the morning Ferris sought
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. IO3 
 
 to learn from Mrs. Elting all that had occurred 
 since his accident, but in obedience to Burton's 
 instructions, she insisted upon his silence, al 
 though she could not resist telling him that it 
 was Madge who had gone for Burton in the 
 night. 
 
 Shortly before luncheon Vinton, Whitney 
 and Moulton returned with Charley from Elk 
 Lake, bringing with them a handsome buck that 
 Whitney had killed the night before. Both 
 Vinton and Moulton had missed fair shots dur 
 ing the day, a fact that in Whitney's easy 
 conscience justified their subsequent night- 
 hunting. Moulton's account of this enter 
 tained Helen as she went with him to the land 
 ing to view the head. 
 
 "When we reached the lake yesterday morn 
 ing, it seems at least a month ago," he 
 said, " Charley posted us at different places 
 while he made a wide detour through the woods. 
 My position was on a little point that com 
 manded a bay scarcely a hundred yards across 
 and which for a half hour I watched so intently 
 that I am sure, were I an artist, I could repro 
 duce its every tree, and twig and leaf. Then I 
 remembered an unfinished story in my pocket 
 and concluded that I could quite as well relieve 
 my eyes and brain with that. I had just lighted 
 a cigar and was beginning to feel that still
 
 IO4 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 hunting wasn't so bad after all, when I heard a 
 crash in the brush near me and, looking up, saw 
 a deer not fifty yards away. Considering the 
 fact that the deer is a most timid and harmless 
 creature, it is marvellous what a commotion 
 akin to terror the sudden appearance of one can 
 arouse. My heart beat like a trip-hammer and 
 the perspiration stood in beads upon my fore 
 head. I dropped my book and, in a spirit of 
 self defense, I think, reached for my rifle, 
 which stood against an adjacent stump. This 
 attracted the animal's attention and with a snort, 
 indicative of disgust, no doubt, he turned and 
 started for the timber. As he did so, I fired, 
 but of course the bullet went wide of the mark, 
 for my hand was trembling like an aspen. Your 
 brother was unkind enough to diagnose my case 
 as one of 'buck fever.' An hour later Vinton 
 missed a shot and I felt in a measure consoled. 
 "Of course our explanations were interesting, 
 but they did not help out the larder, and imme 
 diately after supper we decided to try our luck 
 by night. Charley had resurrected an ancient 
 dug-out, and in the bow of this he set up a staff 
 to which we fastened the head-light. Immedi 
 ately behind this Merrick knelt with his rifle in 
 front of him, while I sat in the waist and Charley 
 paddled in the stern. The night was very cold, 
 and as our boat crept along the edge of the shore
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. IO5 
 
 the mist rising from the water seemed to pene 
 trate my very bones, notwithstanding I had on 
 numerous flannel shirts, a top coat and a blanket. 
 I think I would have wrapped the shelter tent 
 about me also if Vinton had not been beneath 
 it. But it was exciting, I assure you. I sat 
 there in a tremor of expectation and cold, strain 
 ing my eyes on each point of the shore as Mer- 
 rick turned his light upon it. The stillness was 
 deathlike except for the occasional thumping of 
 beetles against the lamp, from which they seemed 
 to take refuge on my face, and the jumping of 
 fish as we broke their surface slumbers. Until 
 you have tried it, you can have no idea how 
 startling it is at night to have some leviathan of 
 the deep, or what seems like one, dart suddenly 
 from beneath the bow of your boat. We had 
 nearly completed the circuit of the lake, gliding 
 noiselessly in and out its little bays where the 
 rushes would permit, when suddenly I felt the 
 boat shake. This apparently excited a new set 
 of nerves, and I was tempted to jump out and 
 swim ashore, when I remembered that it was 
 Charley's signal that a deer was at hand. At 
 first I could see nothing; but, as Merrick swung 
 his light towards the shore, two eyes like balls of 
 fire loomed against the black background of the 
 trees. Slowly the boat crept toward them, and 
 at a second signal from Charley, Merrick raised
 
 IO6 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 his rifle and fired. Our boat darted forward, 
 and in a moment we were in shallow water, and 
 Merrick and Charley gave the coup de grace to 
 this monarch of the forest." 
 
 In the afternoon Vinton and Moulton were 
 allowed to see Ferris, and later Madge came, 
 bringing with Adam's compliments, a brace 
 of partridges for his dinner. On the fol 
 lowing morning Burton started for his cabins, 
 having first exacted from his patient a promise 
 that he would remain in bed until his return the 
 next day.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FERRIS had not been ill since his childhood, 
 and after three days' confinement in bed, he 
 welcomed the morning on which Burton was to 
 return and let him up. Every one had been 
 very attentive to him and contributed in every 
 possible way toward his entertainment, but he 
 felt sorely tempted, as his strength returned, 
 to break the promise which, in his weak condi 
 tion, seemed so easy to make. 
 
 Through the open flaps of his tent he could 
 see different members of the party preparing for 
 the diversions of the day. Vinton had set his 
 heart on getting a buck, and not discouraged by 
 the fact that he had missed two the day before, 
 had taken an early breakfast and gone with the 
 Indian for an all-day tramp. Whitney had 
 also gone early to catch the morning flight of 
 some duck he had seen the day before in a 
 neighboring lake, and Madge was preparing to 
 meet him there and show him the whereabouts 
 of a covey of partridges before returning for 
 luncheon. Helen and Moulton had spent an 
 107
 
 IO8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 hour in planning just where they should go. 
 Moulton had suggested and argued stoutly in 
 favor of a bear hunt and other equally absurd 
 plans as a way of consuming the morning 
 hours, and had varied his argument with a dis 
 cussion of a wide range of topics, from the latest 
 light opera, snatches of which he illustrated on 
 the banjo, and with which he was entirely fa 
 miliar, to the habits of the black bear and the 
 best methods of hunting him, about which he 
 knew nothing. 
 
 The Gordian knot of this embarrassing ques 
 tion was at last cut by old Dan'l, who had been 
 taking in the conversation, as he busied himself 
 about his culinary duties. 
 
 " Mr. Moulton, sor, if it would not interfere 
 with your slaughtering of the bear, ye might 
 take the small basket and pick some blueberries, 
 and I'll give ye some foin pies, sor, for dinner." 
 
 "That is a capital suggestion, Dan'l; there 
 is no place where one is so apt to meet the black 
 bear as in a blueberry patch. I think I might 
 quote even Audubon as an authority for that, 
 Miss Seaton." 
 
 And so they started around the edge of the 
 lake, Moulton carrying the basket and Helen a 
 light novel. In a few minutes Moulton re 
 turned. 
 
 "What's the matter, Tom?" Ferris asked as
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. IOQ 
 
 he entered the tent; " I thought you and Miss 
 Whitney had gone on a bear hunt." 
 
 " Well, we did start; but she has just called 
 my attention to the fact that I forgot my rifle, 
 and I have come back for it." 
 
 He took the rifle from the rack and was leav 
 ing the tent, when Ferris called : " Hold on, Tom, 
 won't you need some cartridges? Hunters fre 
 quently do." 
 
 "Don't be funny, Bob," he answered, as he 
 snatched up a cartridge belt and hurried away. 
 
 In a little while Mrs. Elting came to Ferris's 
 tent and began reading aloud; but he thought 
 little of the story, for he was watching Madge as 
 she wiped out her shotgun and filled the pockets 
 of her short coat with shells. He smiled as he 
 saw her look through the polished barrels and 
 with the affectionate care of a veteran sportsman 
 run her white hand over the brown metal from 
 breech to muzzle. 
 
 "Has our invalid any choice of game?" she 
 asked lightly as she stood a moment in front of 
 the tent before going. 
 
 "Well, Miss Aladdin, since you suggest it, I 
 think my dainty appetite craves the luscious 
 breast of the dusky mallard," Ferris answered in 
 the same vein. 
 
 With an oriental courtesy she disappeared, 
 and for a few minutes later he could see her
 
 IIO OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 kneeling straight as an Indian, as she paddled 
 her canoe across the lake. 
 
 Toward noon Burton appeared, closely fol 
 lowed by Joe, each bearing on his back a weighty 
 pack, sustained by a broad strap extending 
 around the shoulders and chest. Relieving him 
 self of his burden and directing Joe where to put 
 up the "A" tent which it contained, Burton en 
 tered Ferris's tent and examined his head and 
 arm. 
 
 " I think the chances are largely in favor of 
 your recovery," he said with a smile as he finished. 
 
 " Not if I have to stay in bed any longer," 
 answered Ferris rather impatiently. 
 
 " Tut, tut, man, a fracture of the radius should 
 be good for at least ten days' attendance, from a 
 professional standpoint. Would you have me 
 belittle the science of surgery by permitting you 
 to get up at the end of the fourth day? How 
 ever, as I have no license to practice in this 
 state and there are no fellow-practitioners in 
 the immediate neighborhood to criticise my 
 treatment of your case, I will risk the charge of 
 malpractice and breach of professional ethics, 
 and allow you to dress." 
 
 In a short time, with the assistance of Bur 
 ton, he got into his clothes, and the two walked 
 along the shore together. During his absence 
 Burton had gone to Keating, and he reported
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. Ill 
 
 to Ferris that the little town had returned to its 
 normal condition of quiet industry. 
 
 " I had the pleasure of seeing the sheriff of 
 the county escort Tim Finney and his right- 
 hand man, Dutchy, to the train in irons, and a 
 more villainous looking couple I never saw." 
 
 " I am gratified to know that this county has 
 a sheriff. We certainly had no occasion to sus 
 pect the existence of such an official during the 
 strike." 
 
 "Oh ! it was not for any part he played in the 
 strike that Tim was arrested. Our sheriff is far 
 too good a politician for that. It was discov 
 ered that it was Finney and his man who robbed 
 the superintendent of the Denton mines last 
 week, and such a crime our sheriff regards as far 
 more heinous than the attempt to wreck the 
 plant of a corporation, even if the latter offense 
 might endanger the lives of its hirelings. I saw 
 your mail-boy also, and found him as lively as 
 a cricket. As I was leaving the town, a little 
 woman stopped me and said that my patient, Jack 
 Turnley, was much better, and with many blushes 
 added that they 'would be married next month,' 
 if Jack got back his job." 
 
 "He shall have it, then," said Ferris, after a 
 moment's pause, during which he saw a small boat 
 put out from the opposite shore and recognized 
 the trim figure of its occupant.
 
 112 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Is not that rather a treasonable remark from 
 such a confirmed bachelor ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," answered Ferris; "but you see I 
 have not altogether recovered yet." 
 
 Continuing their walk a half mile further, 
 they came to a deserted logging road that ran 
 to the lake where it was overgrown with berry 
 bushes. Against the stump of an old pine tree 
 that stood by its side, leaned a rifle, with a cart 
 ridge belt hanging across the muzzle. 
 
 " This is Tom Moulton's idea of hunting," 
 said Ferris, as they turned into the wood. 
 
 " Or this," said Burton, with a smile, point 
 ing farther up the road where it ran into the 
 heavy timber and was free from underbrush. 
 
 There on the trunk of a tree that had fallen 
 across the road, Helen was sitting, reading aloud 
 from her novel, while at her feet Moulton was 
 stretched on the ground with his chin resting 
 on his hands and looking very intently at the 
 fair reader. 
 
 " Do you suppose that man has any idea that 
 it is nearly time for luncheon ? " asked Burton. 
 
 " A week ago I should have said 'yes,' for 
 Tom has usually a vigorous and exacting appe 
 tite ; but I am beginning to doubt whether such 
 material things seem so important to him now 
 as they did." 
 
 As they drew near, Helen heard them, and
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 113 
 
 looked up from her book. Seeing Ferris and 
 Burton, she came toward them. 
 
 " I am delighted to see you out again, Mr. 
 Ferris, and to have you with us, Doctor," she 
 said. " Have you any cure for laziness?" she 
 added, as Moulton slowly rose and shook hands 
 with Burton. 
 
 " If it is uncomplicated with other diseases, 
 there is nothing better than absolute rest." 
 
 " Thanks, Doctor, that is a most excellent pre 
 scription, and one I can easily fill here." 
 
 "But not just now, Tom," said Ferris, "for 
 you must go back to luncheon, and must lug 
 the rifle and cartridge belt, if bruin has not car 
 ried them off." 
 
 " Why, really, I had no idea it was so late," 
 said Moulton, looking at his watch. " How time 
 does slip away here." 
 
 "When one is hunting," added Ferris. 
 " Where is your rifle ?" 
 
 "Let me see, I think I stood it against a tree, 
 when we went to pick berries. Where did we 
 put it, Miss Whitney ? " 
 
 " Never mind, Tom, we will get it as we go 
 along." 
 
 When they reached camp, they found that 
 Madge had already returned. On the front pole 
 of the men's tent hung a single duck. Ferris 
 did not notice it until he heard Burton exclaim:
 
 114 UT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Hello ! This is a beauty. And a genuine dusky 
 old drake," he added, as he examined the black 
 bill and feet of the mallard. 
 
 " Are you enough of a taxidermist, Doctor, 
 to save that skin for me?" asked Ferris, as he 
 saw what a fine specimen it was. " I should like 
 to have it mounted." 
 
 "O, yes, that is very simple," answered Bur 
 ton, "but you should have the mate to go with 
 it." 
 
 Just then Madge appeared from her tent, 
 where she had changed her shooting coat for a 
 blue jacket. 
 
 "I am glad you were not with me, Uncle 
 Tom, when I made that shot. You would have 
 been ashamed of your pupil. I had a beautiful 
 chance for a right and left in the little lake be 
 yond the river. With the right, I got this old 
 fellow, and I thought at first I had his mate with 
 the left, but she rose over the timber and disap 
 peared in the direction of Bass Lake, where Mr. 
 Whitney is shooting. What an enthusiast he is! 
 I left him munching crackers, as he preferred to 
 miss luncheon and wait for the evening flight. 
 He has had little chance to shoot ducks before, 
 and seems fascinated with it." 
 
 "I am not surprised," said Ferris, "for there 
 is no sport to equal it. Until three years ago I 
 had never shot a duck, although I had hunted a
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. Il5 
 
 great deal for larger game. There is a variety 
 and excitement about it that one cannot find in 
 field shooting, or in the mountains." 
 
 " Miss Seaton will agree with you, I am sure," 
 said Burton. " It is one of the points on which 
 she and I differ, as I prefer the rifle to the shot 
 gun always." 
 
 " He says it is more exact," said Madge. 
 " Uncle is nothing, if not exact. He always in 
 sists on eliminating the element of chance, 
 while, for my part, I depend upon it largely. It 
 has saved the reputation of many a poor sports 
 man like myself." 
 
 Soon after luncheon, Helen joined Mrs. 
 Elting in the tent. Burton, in his methodical 
 way, went to bed, to catch up his lost sleep, and 
 Moulton wandered down the lake shore for a 
 swim. Ferris was enjoying the soft September 
 air in an easy camp chair on the edge of the 
 bluff, watching the shadows on the still water of 
 the slowly drifting clouds, when Madge appeared 
 with a novel under her arm. 
 
 "You are feeling quite well again, are you 
 not, Mr. Ferris ? " 
 
 "If I say yes, will it deprive me of sharing 
 your book with you ?" he answered. 
 
 " If you knew what it is, I fear you would 
 prefer to escape it. It is a light novel, but full of 
 excitement, I am told. I have not yet begun it."
 
 Il6 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "What else should novels be?" said 
 Ferris. " For my part, it is the kind I most 
 thoroughly enjoy. I think the first object of a 
 novel should be to entertain the reader. If 
 incidentally it can administer a modest amount 
 of instruction sufficiently disguised, that is not 
 bad ; but unfortunately, so many of the novel 
 ists of to day seem to confound their mission 
 with that of the sociologist, the clergyman, the 
 moralist, and the general pedagogue, that the 
 leaven of excitement is not sufficient to raise the 
 mass of general dullness. Now that I have given 
 my views so frankly, may I ask the name of 
 your book?" 
 
 "It is 'That Lass o' Lowrie's,' by Frances 
 Hodgson Burnett. It was recommended to me 
 by Mr. Kennedy, who claims the writer as a 
 country-woman of his." 
 
 "That is true in part only," answered Ferris, 
 " as she came to this country when a mere child. 
 I have been waiting for a chance to read the 
 book, and am delighted that you should have it. 
 Won't you sit here and read?" 
 
 " No, thank you, I will take the hammock." 
 
 Arranging the pillows so that she could get 
 a view of the lake, Madge began to read. Her 
 voice was low and musical, and she read with 
 distinctness, for she had long been accustomed 
 to reading aloud to old Miss Burton, whose eye-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 117 
 
 sight was very poor. It was a novel sensation 
 for Ferris to be read to thus, and altogether de 
 lightful. He closed his eyes as he listened in 
 dreamy mood, with one hand above his head; 
 and while he kept the thread of the story, he 
 time and again found his thoughts wandering 
 off on little castle-building excursions quite un 
 like anything he had known before. Yet he al 
 ways "heard the music, though he missed the 
 tune." 
 
 Suddenly Madge ceased reading, and glanc 
 ing up, Ferris saw tears in her eyes. She was 
 looking out over the lake, and the book lay 
 closed on her lap. 
 
 "What is it? " he asked gently. 
 
 "Nothing, absolutely nothing but my own 
 silly imagination," she answered. " Yet, while 
 1 read, this is not fiction for me ; it is reality. 
 For the time, I know that woman's heart, we 
 are one. But it has passed now," she added, 
 swinging herself lightly from the hammock. 
 " Let me show you that I am made of sterner 
 stuff ; I will take you around the lake in ray 
 canoe, that you may see how beautiful it is." 
 
 In a few minutes the little boat started, with 
 Ferris seated on a low thwart, facing the bow, 
 and Madge kneeling behind him, in her favorite 
 position when paddling. The boat glided 
 steadily under her easy strokes and soon swung
 
 Il8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 toward the shore. As they moved through the 
 tall rushes that fringed the beach, Ferris thought 
 they would land, but beyond these they came to 
 a little pond of clear water on one side of which 
 was the outlet of the lake. 
 
 "Are you fond of bass fishing, Mr. Ferris?" 
 asked Madge, as she checked the boat with her 
 paddle. 
 
 "Very," he answered; " but they will not rise 
 to the fly so early in the season as this, I im 
 agine." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but I remember when I was 
 here last, that at this outlet they rose even ear 
 lier. Give me the rod and fly book, and let us 
 see if the same eccentric school of fish is still 
 here." 
 
 She jointed the rod, and running the line 
 through the rings, attached a leader with three 
 tempting flies of gaudy color. 
 
 "That is the same cast I used the last time I 
 was here. Will you try it? I will help you if 
 you get a strike." 
 
 " No, let me watch you." 
 
 Away flew the flies toward the further side of 
 the pond, and slowly Madge wound in the line. 
 As it neared the boat, there was a splash, but the 
 fish was wary. Again the flies dropped lightly, 
 farther out, and scarcely had they touched the 
 water when they disappeared, and the slender rod
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. IIQ 
 
 bent under the strain of the line as it was drawn 
 rapidly from the reel. 
 
 "Bravo! You have him," exclaimed Ferris. 
 
 " Not yet," she answered, watching the line 
 intently, "see him jump." As she spoke, the 
 fish darted toward the boat and rose clear two 
 feet above the water, shaking the hook from his 
 mouth. 
 
 " He deserves his freedom, for that was clev 
 erly done," exclaimed Madge, slowly winding 
 in the line. 
 
 " Let us try once more, and I think I can 
 show you how we may foil him if he attempt 
 the same trick again," answered Ferris ; and 
 taking the rod, he explained how the line should 
 be kept taut when the fish leaped from the water. 
 The next casts were more successful, and soon 
 four fine bass were captured. 
 
 "You see we can accomplish more together 
 than alone," said Ferris, as Madge turned 
 the boat toward the lake ; and as he spoke he 
 realized, that without meaning to do so, he was 
 giving voice to another thought than that to 
 which his words applied. 
 
 "Yes, while you are disabled," she answered, 
 and as his eyes met hers, he saw that she, at least, 
 was thinking only of the fishing. 
 
 The sun was setting behind the woods as they 
 neared the camp, and the little white tents stood
 
 I2O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 out in bold relief against the green and brown 
 background of the trees. A thread of smoke 
 was rising from the cook's tent, and they could 
 see old Dan'l moving busily about preparing the 
 evening meal. 
 
 "Captain Vinton has returned," said Madge, 
 quickening her stroke. "And he has been suc 
 cessful, too. Do you see the deer hanging from 
 the fallen tree on the shore beyond the camp? 
 How pleased he must be." 
 
 As their boat touched the landing, Vinton 
 came from his tent, and hurrying toward them, 
 called to Ferris: 
 
 "You can never jeer at my marksmanship 
 again, my boy, for I got that fine old buck with 
 a single shot, and he was on the jump. Isn't he 
 a beauty? " 
 
 "Truly, Uncle Phil, and in the blue coat too. 
 I congratulate you. Did Joe have a rifle also?" 
 
 " Come now, Bob, I must resent that insinu 
 ation. I suppose that when I have the head 
 mounted, I must accompany it with Joe's affida 
 vit that I was the sole slayer. Miss Seaton, I 
 shall present it to you, if you can find a place 
 for it among your many trophies." 
 
 "Indeed, it shall have the place of honor, and 
 I will not require the affidavit," answered Madge, 
 looking with mock severity at Ferris. 
 
 " But you must confess, Uncle Phil, that your
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 121 
 
 past record does not justify any great degree of 
 confidence in your skill with the rifle." 
 
 "Never mind that. I am just beginning; a 
 trifle late in life, I confess ; but I have felt 
 younger yes, and happier since I came here 
 than in many years. And," he added, with a 
 touch of feeling in the tone, "I have this little 
 woman to thank, in great part, for it." 
 
 Ferris noticed a slight tinge of color come 
 into Madge's cheek, and saw the pleasure Vin- 
 ton's words gave her. 
 
 While confined to his tent, he had observed 
 that she and Vinton were much together and 
 enjoyed each other thoroughly, yet it had never 
 occurred to him to question that the feeling be 
 tween them might be other than one of good 
 comradeship, for Vinton was more than twenty 
 years her senior and seemed even older. Now it 
 came to him that their fondness for each other 
 might mean something more than good-fellow 
 ship, and that to Vinton, perhaps, had at last 
 come that feeling with which even the oldest 
 hearts grow young ; and although he loved him 
 above all other men, the thought was uncom 
 fortable, and he tried to put it away. 
 
 While they were admiring Vinton's buck, 
 Helen and Moulton came from the woods and 
 joined them. 
 
 "Perhaps you might have been as lucky, if
 
 122 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 you had been more energetic and gone hunting 
 with Captain Vinton this morning," she said to 
 Moulton. 
 
 "No doubt of it," he answered; "but you 
 know the rule of our camp is, we shall shoot only 
 what meat we can use, and Captain Vinton had 
 his heart set on getting a buck, while I am not 
 so enthusiastic a hunter. You should commend 
 my unselfishness. I am very well satisfied with 
 my day thanks to you." 
 
 It had not occurred to Ferris to speak to 
 Madge of the pleasure she had given him, and 
 yet he was conscious it had been the happiest 
 day he had ever known. He was annoyed at 
 himself to think he had not had the thoughtful- 
 ness to express his appreciation, and he was about 
 to do so when she called his attention to Whit 
 ney, who was coming along the shore with gun 
 in hand and a bunch of ducks swung over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Here comes our enthusiast. Let us see 
 what he has," she said, going toward him. 
 
 " Hello ! Bob, glad to see you up," said 
 Whitney, as they joined him. " What a day I've 
 had. Why didn't you tell me what duck shoot 
 ing is? I feel as if I had wasted about ten years 
 of my life. Jove! but I'm hungry." 
 
 Ferris examined the ducks as Whitney trudged
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 123 
 
 along beneath their weight for there were 
 twenty in all. 
 
 "Are they all wood duck?" he asked. 
 
 "No, there are several teal, a merganser, and 
 one that I do not know at all, nor can I claim 
 the credit of having shot it. It simply died a natu 
 ral death, and selected my vicinity for that pur 
 pose. When Miss Seaton joined me this morn 
 ing I had shot only four ; I couldn't get into the 
 line of flight ; I had no decoys, but with four 
 sharp sticks she set up my dead birds so that 
 they made the best of decoys. Commend me 
 to fair woman for methods of deception." 
 
 At the landing Whitney counted over and 
 laid out his birds with the enthusiasm of a juve 
 nile sportsman. 
 
 " That is my unknown ugly duckling," he 
 said. "What is it?" " A dusky mallard," an 
 swered Ferris, "and it probably died of a broken 
 heart, as its companion was shot by Miss Seaton 
 this morning. Give it to me, Merrick, and I 
 shall have them mounted, that they may be re 
 united." 
 
 " I disclaim the ownership of a bird slain in 
 such a peculiarly feminine way," said Whitney. 
 " But take it, Bob ; it may remind you what a 
 dangerous person Miss Seaton is." 
 
 "Or, better still, that our game is not always
 
 124 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 lost when we think it is," added Burton, as he 
 joined them with Mrs. Elting. 
 
 Ferris colored slightly as he took the bird, 
 and said : 
 
 "At any rate, it will remind me of a most en 
 joyable day." 
 
 It seemed to him a silly little speech, and so 
 conventional, and he wished that he had kept 
 silent. It had indeed been the happiest day he 
 had ever known, and while he did not mean to 
 tell Madge this, he had hoped to express to her 
 in a less commonplace way his enjoyment. 
 
 At dinner he sat opposite Madge, whose seat 
 was between" Vinton and Burton. She was in 
 high spirits, as indeed were all the others ex 
 cept himself. For some unaccountable reason 
 he was beginning to feel depressed, and al 
 though he endeavored to join in the general 
 good-fellowship, he realized that he was failing 
 hopelessly, and finally abandoned the attempt. 
 Again and again he found the thought recurring 
 that possibly Vinton and Madge loved each 
 other, for they seemed so entirely happy to 
 gether, and her freedom with him was scarcely 
 less than with her uncle. 
 
 " Can you imagine anything more delightful 
 than this ?" he heard her say to Vinton. " How 
 beautiful this place is. I did not know I loved 
 it so. See the exquisite cloud-tints; and the
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 125 
 
 pines on the other shore, mirrored as sharply in 
 the water as they appear against the horizon. Ah, 
 there is no place like the woods! " 
 
 " True, indeed," answered Vinton. "A gen 
 uine love of the woods is never unrequited. 
 We may tire of city life, of travel, of too many 
 people, or too few, but when we come back to 
 the woods, we can shed our cares as the trees 
 their withered leaves, and take into our 
 lives a new happiness. But where is your en 
 thusiasm, Bob?" he asked, speaking to Ferris. 
 " I never knew you silent before when the 
 praises of the woods were being sung." 
 
 " Even the woods can 't make one unmindful 
 of a broken arm, Uncle, particularly if its owner 
 must do justice to so good a dinner single- 
 handed," answered Ferris, rather wearily. 
 
 "I am afraid, Madge dear, that you have 
 not proved a very good nurse to-day. You 
 have allowed your invalid to overtax his 
 strength," said Mrs. Elting. 
 
 "I am very sorry," answered Madge. "I 
 should have been more thoughtful." 
 
 " Not at all, Miss Seaton, I am not tired, and 
 my arm is simply inconvenient, not painful." 
 
 But it was plain to Ferris that the others 
 thought him tired, and he was glad of the ex 
 cuse to go to his tent soon after the dinner. 
 That he was miserable there was no doubt, al-
 
 126 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 though he could not account for it. He lay on 
 the bed with the blankets drawn over him, for 
 the air was chilly, and through the open front 
 of his tent watched the others gathered round 
 the roaring camp-fire that blazed and crackled 
 as it threw its myriad stars high into the leafy 
 shadows. 
 
 Helen and Moulton were sitting on a low 
 bench facing him. That they were very happy 
 was beyond question ; and while he could not 
 hear their conversation, he could catch occa 
 sional snatches of song and the strum of the 
 banjo, as Moulton alone, or with Helen, sang 
 some light tune. 
 
 Vinton and Madge were nearer to him, with 
 their backs toward his tent, but he could see 
 that they were absorbed in each other and 
 rarely spoke to the others. Burton was evi 
 dently entertaining Mrs. Elting with an account 
 of the labor troubles, for the little woman's 
 face was brilliant with excitement and interest. 
 Whitney was interviewing Joe at the cook's tent 
 about the local geography and the best places 
 for finding game, for they were to hunt together 
 in the morning. 
 
 Watching the others thus was diverting for a 
 time, but Ferris found himself growing more 
 and more restless and uncomfortable. " Bob 
 Ferris, you are a fool," he said at length, in a
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 127 
 
 half undertone, and throwing off the blankets, 
 got up and lowered the flaps of his tent. In a 
 moment Burton appeared, and after helping him 
 to get ready for bed, examined his broken arm. 
 
 " I hope you find my arm doing well, 
 Doctor, for I think I shall start for the town 
 to-morrow. May I break the journey at your 
 cabin?" 
 
 "Nonsense, man, you can't go to-morrow. 
 You'll not be in shape to travel for several days 
 at least. Besides, you've had no chance for 
 pleasure yet, and are just getting to a point 
 where you can enjoy yourself. You should 
 spend a week here, and you will find it an im 
 mense help to you." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I think I shall make the start, 
 if you will let me take your Indian to-morrow. 
 I am good for so short a journey, I am sure." 
 
 " If you are determined, I shall go with you 
 myself, although I had intended to remain sev 
 eral days longer. Seriously, Ferris, you should 
 not go before Monday, and I trust you will wait 
 and go with me." 
 
 Ferris hesitated a moment, and said : " If you 
 insist upon it I will wait." 
 
 " I must insist," answered Burton ; " there 
 would certainly be a risk in your going sooner." 
 
 As Burton was leaving the tent, Ferris said : 
 " Please do not mention my going ; I told Cap-
 
 128 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tain Vinton yesterday I would probably remain 
 a week longer." 
 
 Soon after this the party about the camp- 
 fire broke up, and Moulton, humming a lively 
 air, came into the tent. Ferris was in no mood 
 to talk, and closing his eyes, pretended to 
 sleep.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE world was moving happily with Tom 
 Moulton, and he appreciated the fact. 
 He had made the discovery that he was very 
 much in love with Helen, but it did not disturb 
 him seriously. "Be philosophical, Thomas," he 
 said to himself, "she can't possibly get away 
 from you for three weeks yet ; therefore, enjoy 
 so much of life, at least, and don't precipitate 
 the possibility of misery by a proposal. If she 
 cares for you, she won't change, and if she 
 doesn't, you will discover it soon enough. Don't 
 inflict too much of your society upon her. Give 
 her a chance to realize by your absence what a 
 good comrade you are." 
 
 It was in keeping with this plan that he ac 
 cepted Whitney's invitation to join him and Joe 
 in an effort to find a bear on the following 
 morning. 
 
 At break of day Joe slipped into the tent and 
 waked them. 
 
 " Get up, Tom," said Whitney softly, that he 
 might not disturb Ferris. " We must start in a 
 half hour." 
 
 129
 
 I3O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Go ahead without me, Merrick," he an 
 swered sleepily. " I shouldn't know a bear from 
 a Newfoundland dog at this hour. Besides, it's 
 beastly cold." 
 
 "You'll feel all right when you have had a 
 cup of hot coffee. Come, get up." 
 
 "What a fool I was to join such an enter 
 prise. I never did care for bear hunting. Don't 
 you think it would be much more sensible to 
 wait about three hours, get a decent bath and 
 breakfast, and then start out ? Bears have to 
 stay some place. They don't disappear from the 
 face of the earth ; so why can't we find them 
 later as well as now? " 
 
 "Nonsense," answered Whitney; "get up, 
 and I will tell you all about it as we go along." 
 
 Moulton did get up, but he dressed so leis 
 urely that Joe came to the tent several times to 
 urge greater haste. His plan, as outlined to 
 Whitney the night before, was to visit a deserted 
 logging camp, some three miles away, where he 
 had a few days before noticed that a bear had 
 been digging about the swill spout. Failing to 
 find one there, they were to follow down the 
 river to a swamp, through which they would 
 hunt, and return by way of the old camp about 
 sunset. 
 
 Dan'l had prepared their lunches the night 
 before, and after a light breakfast they started
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 13! 
 
 across the lake over which the fog was hanging 
 so dense as to obscure the opposite shore. 
 
 " Merrick," said Moulton, as he settled him 
 self in the bow of the boat, " there is something 
 radically wrong about a man who can deliber 
 ately do this sort of thing. Have you com 
 mitted any especially heinous crime, that you 
 should select this particular mode of penance?" 
 
 " Wait until you catch a glimpse of bruin, 
 and you will forget that you missed your morn 
 ing nap," answered Whitney. " Think of the 
 halo of glory that will surround you when 
 you tell at the Club how you slipped out, 
 careless like, before breakfast and shot your 
 first bear." 
 
 "All right," said Moulton, as he lit his pipe; 
 "but if that bear does not materialize, I shall 
 consider that I owe you a lasting grudge." 
 
 The eastern sky was growing crimson with 
 the rising sun as they drew their boat on the 
 beach and hurried through .the woods. As they 
 neared the old camp, Joe motioned to them to 
 stop, while he went cautiously ahead ; for not 
 withstanding his care in avoiding twigs and 
 bushes, Moulton made much noise as he walked. 
 In a few moments the Indian returned. "Too 
 bad," he said, "we too late. Bear gone. Big 
 one and cub." 
 
 " Did you notice any signs, Joe, that would
 
 132 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 indicate whether they would return soon, or had 
 moved into the next county? " said Moulton. 
 
 "Them go to swamp. We get 'em there or 
 here to-night, maybe," replied the Indian. 
 
 "Ye gods ! Must we live on the pleasures of 
 hope all day?" 
 
 . As they passed near the camp, Joe pointed 
 out where the bear had torn up the earth near 
 the swill spout, and the fresh tracks of the great 
 claws in the soft dirt aroused a degree of enthu 
 siasm even in Moulton. But this ebbed after 
 tramping an hour or so along the river bank, 
 and when the edge of the swamp was reached, 
 he -decided to let Whitney and Joe continue the 
 hunt, while he waited for them either there or at 
 the deserted camp. 
 
 " You can't miss getting to the old camp from 
 here, but don't leave it until we come, for you 
 could never find your way from there to the 
 lake," said Whitney, as he started with Joe into 
 the swamp. 
 
 Moulton watched them clambering through 
 underbrush and over fallen timber until they 
 were out of sight. Then looking at his watch, 
 he discovered that it was only nine o'clock. He 
 shook the watch and put it to his ear. " Heav 
 ens!" he said half aloud, as he found the watch 
 running, "can it be possible? I thought it 
 was at least noon. How am I to kill the time
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 133 
 
 till five, eight hours ! Tom Moulton, you 're an 
 idiot." 
 
 Seating himself on a fallen tree trunk, he 
 slowly filled his pipe and began planning how 
 he might best divide the time until his fellow 
 hunters returned. Through the green of the 
 timber, between where he sat and the river, he 
 saw a bright patch of crimson, a single maple 
 that had already taken on the glory of the 
 autumn coloring. He rested his gun against 
 the log. He knew some one who might, he 
 thought, be pleased with a bunch of those bright 
 leaves, and in a little while he had gathered 
 them and added a few ferns and an orchid that 
 he found on the edge of the swamp. Taking 
 his rifle again, he followed lazily up the river, 
 startling a covey of spruce grouse, which, with a 
 succession of sudden whirrs, rose from almost 
 beneath his feet and perched in the pines in 
 front of him. "Now," thought Moulton, "if 
 I were as expert as Miss Seaton, I might skill 
 fully decapitate a few of them and take their 
 unscathed bodies back to camp. As it is, I 
 should probably miss altogether, or tear the 
 bodies to atoms, leaving the heads as sad re 
 minders of my bad marksmanship. I will ignore 
 such small game. I am bear hunting." 
 
 It was nearly noon when he reached the cabin. 
 Finding a chair of boards rudely but comfortably
 
 134 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 made, with an inclined back, such as are common 
 to all lumber camps, he stretched himself on it, 
 and from his shell-bag took such luncheon as he 
 wanted. But he was not very hungry, and the 
 meal was soon finished. He had never seen a 
 lumber camp before, and he began now to inves 
 tigate with interest the remains of this one. Along 
 each side of the room, the log walls of which 
 were chinked with moss and clay, extended two 
 rows of bunks partially filled with hay and with 
 ered hemlock boughs rough beds, but welcome 
 enough to men who have toiled twelve hours, in 
 snow to the waist, with the thermometer below 
 zero. At one corner of the cabin was a little 
 room partitioned off for the camp foreman, the 
 walls of which were decorated with black and 
 colored prints of prize-fighters, of actresses in 
 various stages of nudity, and with thrilling pic 
 tures from the " Police News" and like periodicals 
 that infest the logging camp. A huge rusty 
 stove, with its pipe projecting through the roof, 
 stood in the middle of the room, and above it 
 were stretched wires on which the men, in winter, 
 were accustomed to dry, or at least to warm, at 
 night the reeking clothing that must be worn on 
 the morrow. On shelves above the bunks were 
 numerous bottles, empty, or containing the rem 
 nants of some patent medicines that only the 
 stomach of a woodsman could withstand.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 135 
 
 " What a commentary on the endurance of 
 human nature," said Moulton, as he drew his 
 chair to the open doorway of the cabin to escape 
 the odor of uncleanliness that pervaded the 
 place. " It seems like a great conspiracy to ruin 
 men's bodies and souls alike." 
 
 In one of the bunks he had found the frag 
 ments of a trashy novel, and after attempting for 
 an hour to divert himself with it, he threw it 
 aside, and drawing his cap down over his eyes 
 was soon asleep. 
 
 It was half-past four when he awoke and 
 looked at his watch. As the air was chill, he 
 decided to walk along the river and meet Whit 
 ney and Joe on their return. As he started from 
 the cabin, he heard a noise like the grunt of a 
 hog, and saw over the top of an old pork barrel 
 that was half buried in the berry bushes at one 
 side of the cabin a shaggy black object partly 
 within the barrel. He did not recognize the 
 creature at once and started toward it to get a 
 better view ; but scarcely had he made ten steps 
 when the head and shoulders of a bear appeared 
 above the barrel. In truth, the sight was not a 
 pleasant one, for Moulton knew that he was no 
 rifle shot, and at such close quarters he realized 
 that the bear could catch him if disposed to do 
 so. But bruin evidently had no such intention, 
 and leisurely turning tail began to amble slowly
 
 136 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 across the clearing toward the woods. At the 
 same time Moulton's courage returned, and as 
 the bear scrambled over a fallen log on the edge 
 of the timber, he aimed and fired. As the smoke 
 of the powder cleared away, he paused an instant 
 to see if the beast had turned upon him, but 
 finding that the game had disappeared, he rested 
 his rifle upon the ground and said, as many bet 
 ter sportsmen had said before him : 
 
 "What a fool I was to let him getaway." 
 He was very courageous now, and, taking his 
 weapon, hurried toward the point where the bear 
 was last seen, but he was somewhat uncertain as to 
 the exact spot, and was walking in the direction 
 of the river when he noticed patches of fresh blood 
 upon the ferns and bushes. From this he knew 
 that his shot had taken effect, and he proceeded 
 to follow the trail of the wounded animal as rap 
 idly as possible. Through underbrush, over fallen 
 logs, on high ground and bog, he hurried in his 
 excitement, regardless alike of time and direc 
 tion, now losing the trail and again stopping for 
 an instant to note the pools of blood where the 
 bear had evidently paused or had ejected a quan 
 tity from his mouth. 
 
 How long this chase continued he had no 
 idea, but the end was unexpected. As he pressed 
 hastily through a clump of dense bushes, with 
 his head lowered and his arms raised in front to
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 137 
 
 protect his eyes, his foot encountered an obstruc 
 tion, and he fell prone upon it. It was the bear, 
 and fortunately for Moulton it was dead. With 
 a yell that would have done credit to a Co- 
 manche Indian, he scrambled off the body and 
 through the brush, leaving his cap and rifle and 
 tearing his hands and clothing in his mad flight. 
 Nor did he pause until, out of breath, he found 
 himself on the swampy edge of a small lake. 
 When he realized that the bear must be dead, he 
 slowly and carefully retraced his steps to the 
 clump of bushes where the body lay, and peer 
 ing cautiously in, saw on it his cap and rifle as 
 he had dropped them. He was too much ex 
 hausted to give voice to his triumphant feeling, 
 but after making sure that the breath of life had 
 indeed departed from the great body, he decided 
 to return to the cabin for Whitney and Joe to 
 assist in getting his game into camp, and, that 
 he might make better speed, left his rifle on the 
 bear. As he tried to follow the blood-marked 
 trail over which he had come, he realized for the 
 first time that it was growing late. Again and 
 again he was forced to examine the ground 
 closely, and soon was compelled to abandon the 
 attempt altogether, so rapidly did the darkness 
 come on. But he believed that he could find 
 his way to the old cabin, and struck out briskly 
 in what he conceived to be the most direct line
 
 138 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 for it, nor did he discover his error until after a 
 rapid walk of a half hour he found himself on 
 low ground, such as he had not passed over ex 
 cept by the little lake near which the bear had 
 fallen. 
 
 Any one who has had the experience of being 
 lost in such woods can appreciate Moulton's 
 feelings as he realized his predicament. But 
 he did the wisest thing under the circumstances ; 
 he stopped, and to steady his nerves slowly filled 
 his pipe and began to smoke. 
 
 It was after five o'clock when Whitney and 
 the Indian reached the old logging camp, for 
 their tramp through the swamp had taken longer 
 than they had intended. They had found no 
 game, and as Whitney was tired and hungry 
 they decided to pick up Moulton and hurry on 
 to camp. When they discovered that the cabin 
 was deserted they concluded he had gone back 
 to the lake. From time to time as they walked 
 rapidly along, Joe stopped to examine the trail. 
 
 " Big fellow don't come this way," he said 
 at length. " He lost, maybe." 
 
 " Nonsense, Joe," replied Whitney. " He 
 probably made a bee-line for our camp as soon 
 as he left us this morning." 
 
 But at the shore of the lake they found their 
 boat as they had left it, and no new foot-prints 
 to indicate that Moulton had been there.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 139 
 
 " Perhaps he has gone back around the shore. 
 We will paddle over and see," said Whitney; 
 and beginning to feel some uneasiness as to 
 Moulton's whereabouts, he took a paddle and 
 helped to drive the canoe toward camp as quickly 
 as possible. 
 
 The camp-fire was burning brightly, and 
 through the open end of the dining tent they 
 could see their party at dinner. But Moulton 
 was not in his place. 
 
 As their boat touched the landing, Whitney 
 hurried to the camp and asked : " Where 's 
 Moulton?" 
 
 " He has not returned," answered Burton. 
 " He was with you, we thought." 
 
 Whitney told briefly how Moulton had left 
 them in the morning, and how, not finding him, 
 they concluded he had gone back to camp. 
 
 " How could you come back without him, 
 Merrick?" said Helen, with mingled annoyance 
 and anxiety in her tone. " You know he is 
 utterly ignorant of the woods, and is just as apt 
 to be going away from camp as toward it." 
 
 " Now, Helen dear, don't be unreasonable. 
 I did not lose him, but I shall certainly make 
 every effort to find him, if you will let me have 
 some dinner first." 
 
 "You need not feel anxiety, Miss Whitney," 
 said Burton. " There is no danger from wild
 
 I4O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 animals in these woods, and he cannot be lost 
 very long. If he travels away from our 
 lake, he will soon reach the river, and, following 
 it in either direction for ten miles, he will find 
 a well-beaten road along which he can get to 
 civilization. The worst that can happen is that 
 he may pass a very uncomfortable night if we 
 do not overtake him, and may feel somewhat 
 hungry before he encounters anything more 
 nourishing than blueberries. But we will go in 
 search of him without delay, and I think we 
 shall find him without trouble. Get your dinner, 
 Joe, as quickly as possible, and have Charley get 
 his. Madge, will you look after the lanterns?" 
 
 It required but little time for Whitney and 
 the Indian to finish their meal. Ferris insisted 
 on joining the searching party, and Burton con 
 sented upon condition that he would restrict his 
 walk to the river along the trail over which he 
 had come first to the camp. Vinton was in 
 structed to go toward the river at a short dis 
 tance from the same trail ; Whitney and Joe 
 were to go directly to the old logging camp and 
 look for traces of Moulton there, while Burton 
 and Charley were to take a more southerly 
 course, as they had done but little tramping 
 during the day. 
 
 " I will go in your boat across the lake, Uncle 
 Tom," said Madge, as Burton was about to
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 141 
 
 start. " I am not at all tired, and I can cover 
 the ground between you and Mr. Whitney." 
 
 "I think you would be of more service if you 
 should go with Mr. Ferris," replied Burton. 
 "He cannot shoot, and we shall need to fire a 
 signal in case of success three shots in quick 
 succession." 
 
 "As you think best," she answered. " Will 
 you take the lantern, Mr. Ferris, while I get my 
 rifle?" 
 
 Helen followed her to the tent. " Madge 
 dear, do you think anything has happened to 
 him?" she said, her voice trembling as she 
 spoke. 
 
 "Do not worry, dearie ; I am sure not. I 
 know we shall find him soon," and looking into 
 Helen's eyes, she read her secret, and kissed her 
 as she hurried away to join Ferris. 
 
 It had been a very quiet day for Ferris, and 
 for the most part, a very uncomfortable one. He 
 had not fallen asleep until nearly daylight, and 
 did not awaken until after the others had break 
 fasted, and, with the exception of Burton and 
 Mrs. Elting, had deserted the camp. Vinton 
 and Madge had gone after partridges, and 
 across the lake he could see Charley paddling 
 a canoe in which Helen sat trolling for bass. 
 He had breakfasted leisurely, and after declin 
 ing Burton's invitation to join him and Mrs.
 
 142 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 Elting for a sail, settled himself to read the 
 story he and Madge had begun the day before. 
 But it failed to interest him as it had done, 
 and throwing the book aside, he wandered off 
 into the woods and did not come back until 
 late in the afternoon. On his return he found 
 Vinton asleep in his tent and Madge alone in 
 the hammock, reading. She had read to the 
 point where he had put aside the book, and at 
 his request she continued reading aloud. At once 
 his interest awakened, and in the two hours 
 before dinner, he quite forgot how miserable he 
 had been. He watched her as she read, and 
 realized that there had come into his life a pas 
 sion such as he had never known before. For 
 the time at least he would be happy, forgetting 
 his determination to start with Burton in two 
 days for the mines. 
 
 Madge and Ferris walked in silence for some 
 distance after leaving the camp. The trail was 
 broad and well-trodden, and they did not need 
 the lantern, which he carried unlighted. She 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 "What are you so busily thinking about?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "I was thinking of our former walk over this 
 trail," he answered. 
 
 "How well you are getting," she said ; "I
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 143 
 
 will confess now that I was quite alarmed about 
 you then." 
 
 "That is too bad. I seem to have come as 
 the one shadow over your bright camp life. 
 But," he added, after a moment's silence, " I am 
 going day after to-morrow, and you will have 
 only the impression of the discomfort I have 
 made you which I am sure the next three 
 weeks of pleasure will efface." 
 
 Fortunately for Madge, it was too dark for 
 Ferris to see the expression of her face as she 
 answered quietly : " I am very sorry. Will you 
 come again before we break camp? " 
 
 " I had not intended to do so," he said, add 
 ing after a moment's pause, " but if you wish it, 
 I will." 
 
 " Indeed, we shall all be delighted to see you, 
 and I am sure the perfect rest here must be of 
 benefit after your busy city life. Or perhaps you 
 have other plans for a vacation? " 
 
 " No, I have no plans. I had not thought of 
 getting an outing this fall, but as Captain Vin- 
 ton was so near, I could not resist the chance to 
 be with him. You know he is both father and 
 friend to me, and has been since I can remember, 
 for my own father died when I was a very small 
 child." 
 
 " I envy you such a friendship. I have 
 known him less than two weeks and yet I feel
 
 144 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 as if I had known him always. If I were a be 
 liever in the transmigration of souls, I should be 
 sure that in some former state our lives had met. 
 Do you believe in such things?" 
 
 " No; I think we sometimes find such a be 
 lief convenient in explaining the suddenness 
 with which a strong attraction comes into our 
 lives. A passion on short notice seems shallow, 
 and we resent it and seek some extraordinary 
 reason for it. It would be better, I think, if we 
 simply accepted the fact without attempting to 
 excuse or explain it. Human passion is as di 
 verse as the human face, yet we treat it as if it 
 were cast for all in the same mould, and that a 
 a very flat one. Can you not conceive of two 
 people strong characters, if you please dis 
 covering their affinity on a week's intimacy as 
 certainly and truly as the same perception might 
 come to two others of different temperaments, 
 in years? " 
 
 " Yes, but you must admit that it is less usual 
 and conventional." 
 
 " That is true, yet it need be none the less 
 strong. To illustrate : Do you think that when 
 Miss Whitney and Tom Moulton discover as 
 they eventually will that they care very much 
 for each other, that their affection will be stronger 
 or more sincere than that of yqurself and Cap 
 tain Vinton?"
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 145 
 
 "Perhaps not," answered Madge; "though 
 it may not be the same. Will you wait here," 
 she added, as they had now reached the river, 
 " while I examine the river bank for a short dis 
 tance to see if I can discover any signs of the 
 wanderer? I will return within an hour." 
 
 It required but a moment for Madge to light 
 the lantern and hurry away, leaving Ferris on 
 the spot where they had forded the river less 
 than a week before. 
 
 Did she love Vinton? This was the question 
 that filled his thoughts. Had she not practi 
 cally confessed as much in what she had already 
 said? And yet, why should she emphasize the 
 difference between her feeling for Vinton and that 
 of Moulton for Miss Whitney? These and many 
 like questions he vainly sought to answer during 
 the hour or more that he spent in walking rest 
 lessly to and fro in the clearing of the river bank 
 at which the logging road ended. But one con 
 clusion he reached. He would discover whether 
 she loved Vinton, even if it necessitated his tell 
 ing her of his own feelings. He could not go 
 away in the wretchedness of uncertainty. 
 
 Having determined on this course, he awaited 
 anxiously her return, for even in the face of what 
 seemed to him certain failure, he could not but 
 cherish a faint hope of success, and this brought 
 a measure of cheerfulness. Lighting a cigar, he
 
 146 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 began to fancy by degrees that Madge, if she 
 did not love Vinton, might in time learn to care 
 for himself. 
 
 From time to time after she had left him, he 
 noticed the signal shots fired at intervals by the 
 searchers beyond the lake, but now the small 
 new-born hope filled his heart and he no longer 
 heard them nor thought of the lost Moulton. 
 
 Suddenly there was splashing of water at a 
 little distance above, and Madge's cheerful voice 
 called excitedly: 
 
 "Isn't it fortunate they have found him so 
 soon? We must hurry back to camp and get 
 ready the best our larder affords." 
 
 " Why do you think they have found him ? " 
 asked Ferris, without displaying any great degree 
 of enthusiasm, for the learning of his own fate 
 seemed more important to him than the finding 
 of Moulton, and he knew that a hasty return to 
 camp would prevent his speaking as he had de 
 termined. 
 
 "Did you not hear the three quick shots? 
 That was to be the signal of success. I was on 
 the other side of the river when I heard them, 
 and I was so impatient to get back that I could 
 not take the time to go up stream to the old 
 log over which I had crossed, and so waded 
 across in the shallowest water I could find. 
 Whew ! but it was cold."
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 147 
 
 " You should not have done that. You ought 
 not to take such chances with your health." 
 
 "Never fear for me. We shall be in camp in 
 ten minutes, and between the warmth of the 
 camp fire and Helen's greeting, I shall forget 
 my wet feet. Do you feel strong enough to 
 walk so rapidly? " she asked, slackening the 
 quick pace at which they had started. 
 
 " O, yes, I am quite well again," answered 
 Ferris. " At least physically. What makes you 
 so happy to-night?" he asked, as they neared 
 the camp. " Let me share it with you, for I am 
 not very happy." 
 
 "Then I will tell you," she answered, 
 " though if you were a woman, you would not 
 need to be told. You would know it ; you would 
 feel it in the air. Can't you see how these two 
 people love each other ? And do you not ex 
 perience a touch of reflected happiness ? It is 
 beautiful, it is ideal. Is it strange that I share 
 my friend's happiness?" 
 
 " No, but are you sure that it is the reflec 
 tion only that gladdens your heart?" 
 
 " It must be ; it cannot be anything more for 
 me. Do not take even that away, I beg of you," 
 answered Madge slowly, and as they approached 
 the camp-fire a few moments later, Ferris could 
 see a touch of sadness in her face. 
 
 That Helen had heard the signal was evident
 
 148 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 as she kissed Madge, who hurried into their tent 
 for dry shoes and stockings. 
 
 " I knew he would be as hungry as a bear, 
 Madge, and with Dan'l's help I have set out a 
 delicious supper for him, although he does not 
 deserve it after causing us all so much anxiety. 
 Really, it is not safe to trust him alone in the 
 woods. He won 't carry a compass, and if he 
 did, he would not know how to use it." 
 
 " Then you must see to it that he does not 
 go alone again," answered Madge. " What a 
 trial that will be to you," she added with a smile. 
 "But they have found him, and come very close, 
 Helen dear, while I whisper something. You 
 have found him, too." 
 
 "What nonsense you are talking, Madge," 
 answered Helen, the color coming to her cheeks. 
 "Tom, I mean Mr. Moulton, and I have 
 been the best of friends for years." 
 
 " Yes, but that is over now, dear. You have 
 lost your friend and have found " But Helen 
 quickly put her hand over Madge's mouth, and 
 before she could speak again, hurried from the 
 tent. 
 
 Tom Moulton presented a forlorn spectacle 
 as he wearily climbed the steps that led from the 
 landing to the camp. He was without hat or 
 coat ; his shirt and trousers were torn, and his 
 face and hands badly scratched by the under-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. I4Q 
 
 brush through which he had travelled. When 
 found by Whitney and Joe, he was within a few 
 hundred yards of the deserted cabin and was 
 hurrying away from it in his effort to locate the 
 signal shots that Vinton was firing a half mile 
 nearer camp. As they passed the cabin, he in 
 sisted on picking up the autumn leaves he had 
 left there. " I shall look less dismal with this 
 patch of color," he said in excuse, and held on 
 to them persistently until he laid them in front 
 of Helen's seat at the dining table. 
 
 " If I had confined my attention to gather 
 ing these," he said, dropping into his seat at the 
 table a few minutes later, after he had changed 
 his clothing, " I should not have been in this 
 sorry plight. But I attempted to hunt bears, 
 and this is the result." 
 
 " How absurd of you," said Helen, " and 
 what would you have done if you had found 
 one?" 
 
 "Rather let me tell you what I actually did," 
 answered Moulton, with as much pride in his 
 tone as his fatigued condition would allow. And 
 during the next half hour he entertained the 
 party gathered in the dining tent, with a graphic 
 account of his hunt and subsequent wanderings.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT was late when Ferris appeared at breakfast 
 the morning after the bear hunt. He 
 found Burton and Madge about to start for 
 orchids. 
 
 "Uncle and I are off for one of our old 
 tramps this morning, Mr. Ferris. Won 't you 
 join us?" she said, seating herself for a moment 
 near him. 
 
 "I will decline on one condition," he an 
 swered. " It is that you will give me part of 
 this afternoon. I want to go in search of my 
 fishing rod, which disappeared in the river near 
 where you found me, and which I imagine can 
 easily be recovered. It is an old favorite and I 
 should be sorry to lose it now." 
 
 "Surely. How stupid of me not to have 
 thought of it before. I will return for luncheon 
 before two and we can go at three. If you 
 have no plan for the morning let me suggest 
 that you walk over to Twin Lakes. The trail 
 is very plain, and the view from the point is well 
 worth seeing." 
 
 150
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 151 
 
 " I will do so if Miss Whitney will be my 
 guide," answered Ferris, turning to Helen as 
 she took her place at the breakfast table. 
 
 An hour later Helen and Ferris started just 
 as Moulton and Whitney came from their tent. 
 
 " Won 't you join us, Tom? " said Ferris as 
 Moulton came toward them. 
 
 " No, thank you, Bob, no more tramps for 
 me. The trail from our tent to the dining tent 
 is very distinct, and I shall content myself with 
 following that, for the present at least. I haven't 
 that confidence in my woodcraft that I had 
 before yesterday's experience. Besides, I en 
 gaged Mrs. Elting last evening for a sail this 
 morning, and I feel much more confidence on 
 the water than in the woods." 
 
 The Twin Lakes were scarcely more than a 
 mile from Round Lake, and as the trail ran 
 through a forest of oak and birch and maple 
 trees and was free from underbrush, the walk 
 was an easy one. The point between the two 
 lakes was a narrow peninsula of high ground, 
 heavily wooded, from which a view of the 
 greater part of both lakes could be had. It 
 was indeed well worth seeing, for the diversity 
 and richness of coloring along the shores of the 
 lakes were exceptional even in these woods, which 
 abounded in such natural beauties. On one 
 side of the point extended a little bay scarcely
 
 152 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 one hundred yards across, covered with lily 
 pads and fringed with rushes. Beyond this the 
 lake widened, and from its white sandy beach 
 the bank rose abruptly and was covered with a 
 great variety of hard wood, with here and there 
 a tall pine reaching its branches of dark green 
 high above the surrounding trees. In places 
 the white trunks of the silver birch stood out 
 in bold contrast against a rugged background 
 of browns and green, and close to the water's 
 edge a few of the maples were showing the first 
 touches of the autumn glory. The shores of 
 the other lake were lower, and near its upper 
 end the remains of fallen and dead trees showed 
 where at some former time a beaver dam had 
 existed, while upon one side a treeless stretch, 
 densely covered with berry bushes in rank growth, 
 from which an occasi6nal charred stump raised 
 itself, told of some forest fire that had run to 
 the water's edge. 
 
 As Helen and Ferris walked out onto the 
 point, a flock of wood duck startled from 
 the little bay circled in swift flight until they 
 were high enough to rise over the timber. 
 
 " Won'tyou try a shot at them with my rifle? " 
 asked Helen, as she saw them swinging over 
 head. "It is very light, and I am sure you could 
 manage it with one arm." 
 
 " No, thank you," he answered, " I should
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 153 
 
 surely miss. Besides I am devoid of aggressive 
 ness to-day, even to the extent of not caring 
 for a shot at ducks. Let us sit here a while and 
 see if they do not return. Can you imagine a 
 more perfect picture of quietude than this?" 
 
 " No. But indeed these woods are beautiful 
 and restful beyond any place I have ever known. 
 I have often wondered at Miss Seaton's enthu 
 siasm for them. I understand it now. When 
 we were in Berlin last winter she sighed for the 
 woods. In the galleries she would often stop 
 before a forest scene by some master artist ; 
 yet the comment invariably came, 'Yes, this 
 is beautiful, but not like our woods.' She is a 
 very unusual woman, is she not?" 
 
 "Yes, I have never known one like her," 
 replied Ferris. 
 
 " It seems strange to me that she has never 
 married. She has so many traits that should 
 attract men. Yet while she has many men 
 friends, I doubt if she ever had an offer of mar 
 riage. I should think that a man would need 
 to have a goodly measure of conceit to con 
 sider himself worthy of her." 
 
 Ferris colored slightly as he answered : 
 " Your doubts are in a fair way to be dispelled, 
 are they not?" 
 
 "I don't think I quite understand," Helen 
 replied. "Perhaps I am not very observing.
 
 154 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 Would you have me infer that you are bold 
 enough ; you, the woman-hater?" 
 
 " Indeed I was not thinking of myself," he 
 said, with embarrassment, his color deepening to 
 a positive blush. 
 
 "Surely you cannot mean Captain Vinton? 
 Verily, you are ignorant of a woman's heart, 
 Mr. Ferris. She is fond of him ; so am I ; but 
 can you imagine my loving him? It would be 
 quite as probable." 
 
 " No; but for a very different reason," replied 
 Ferris, recovering his self-possession. " It is 
 because you shall I tell you why?" 
 
 "No, Sir Impudence," she answered lightly, 
 now coloring in her turn. " Besides, it would be 
 a very poor return for a piece of information that 
 you should be very glad to get." 
 
 " Yes, I should be, if ," and he paused, for 
 the thought that she was learning his inmost 
 secret was not pleasant. 
 
 " If you had the courage to admit what you 
 know to be true. What odd creatures you men 
 are. Theoretically, you believe in love, yet when 
 it comes into your lives you meet it with doubt, 
 and fear, and trembling. You try to reason about 
 it and measure it, and altogether deal with it as 
 with the ordinary affairs of life, instead of recog 
 nizing it as a power beyond the reach of reason. 
 If it be truly the remnant of original godliness
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 155 
 
 that is left to us, why seek to compass it with 
 the bonds of human reason? We women are 
 wiser in this one thing. We know love's pres 
 ence intuitively. We do not attempt to explain 
 it, much less doubt it. When a woman doubts 
 if she is in love, you may be sure she is not, or 
 won't be long ; whereas with a man it is a sure 
 sign that he is, or soon will be. As I say, we 
 women know such things intuitively ; and some 
 times," she added with a roguish smile, " our 
 intuitions are not always with regard to ourselves 
 only." 
 
 So far as his feeling for Madge was con 
 cerned, Ferris had passed beyond the condition 
 of doubt. He knew that he loved her, but, even 
 with the assurance of Helen to the contrary, he 
 still questioned if she did not love Vinton. This 
 much, at least, he would determine in the after 
 noon ; yet what Helen had said gave him hope 
 such as he had not known before. He was will 
 ing to try to win Madge's love if she was indeed 
 heart free. It was not vanity ; it was only the 
 confidence that a love so great, so enduring as 
 he felt his to be, must find response. But he did 
 not enjoy the personal turn the conversation 
 had taken, and was seeking to change it, when 
 Helen called his attention to an object in the 
 water near the opposite shore of the smaller one 
 of the lakes. He recognized it at once as a deer,
 
 156 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 although only the head appeared above the 
 water. 
 
 " He is swimming this way," he said, after 
 watching it a moment through the field glass, 
 "and will probably cross on the point. If so, 
 you may get a fair shot as he passes us." 
 
 But a moment later the deer changed his 
 course and headed for the shore of the lake just 
 beyond the little bay. 
 
 " Raise the sights of your rifle," said Ferris ; 
 " you can get a snap shot as he leaves the water. 
 It will not be over two hundred yards." 
 
 Helen did as she was directed and excitedly 
 waited for the deer to reach the shore. 
 
 "Now be ready for him. You must lose no 
 time when he touches land, for it is plain from 
 the way he swims that he has been startled." 
 
 As he spoke the deer turned quickly from the 
 shore and headed again towards the point, and 
 for the first time Ferris saw the cause of his 
 alarm. On the edge of the brush, near where 
 the deer was about to leave the water, a timber 
 wolf was skulking, but being to the windward, 
 the deer had got his scent. 
 
 "There is his pursuer," said Ferris in an un 
 dertone, showing Helen the wolf ; "a more 
 dreaded enemy than man, even. Would you 
 rather take a long shot at him?"
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 157 
 
 "It looks like a great dog is it a wolf?" 
 asked Helen, now all excitement. 
 
 " Yes, and a very large one, I should say." 
 
 " Pray, shoot him. I am so excited that it 
 would be folly for me to attempt it ; see how my 
 hand trembles," said Helen ; and it was indeed 
 true, for she could scarcely hold the rifle. 
 
 Thrusting his hunting knife into the side of 
 the stump near which they were sitting, in order 
 to give a rest for the gun, Ferris readjusted the 
 sights for three hundred yards the distance 
 as near as his practiced eye could judge to a 
 little opening in the brush across which he saw 
 the wolf would pass and as the animal showed 
 himself, he carefully aimed and fired. 
 
 "He is gone," said Helen; " I saw him jump. 
 It is too bad." 
 
 " But I think I hit him. Do you mind wait 
 ing here while I go and see ? " 
 
 " Might he not come this way?" asked Helen, 
 alarmed at the thought of being left alone. 
 
 " There's not the slightest danger of his doing 
 so. If I missed, he is probably a mile away 
 already," answered Ferris. And thus reassured, 
 Helen was content to remain and signal with 
 her handkerchief when Ferris reached the spot 
 where the wolf disappeared. Leaving the rifle 
 with her, he hurried around the edge of the bay.
 
 158 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 As he neared the point that he had marked to 
 look for his game, the rifle again rang out and 
 he saw Helen looking in the opposite direction. 
 Standing on the edge of the lake, he called to 
 her, and she answered that she had fired at and 
 missed a beautiful buck. A little further on he 
 came to the open place in which he last saw the 
 wolf, and in the brush beyond he found the ani 
 mal prostrate and dying, for the bullet had 
 crashed through his spine. Returning to Helen, 
 he found her radiant with excitement. 
 
 "Did you get your quarry?" she asked, hur 
 riedly. 
 
 " Yes, but are you sure you missed yours ? " 
 " Of course, and it seems so stupid, after I 
 have been practicing in a rifle gallery for a 
 month before coming here, and for this very shot. 
 I was watching you when suddenly I heard a 
 crash in the brush near the water's edge on the 
 other side of the point. To say that I was 
 startled, but mildly expresses my sensation. Of 
 course, I thought it must be the wolf and I was 
 about to call to you when a great buck came 
 dashing towards me. Evidently he was quite 
 as surprised at seeing me as I was at the sight 
 of him, for he stopped an instant within a few 
 rods of me, and then ran through the open 
 timber. As he turned I raised the gun and 
 fired, but he disappeared. It was such an easy
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 shot. He had just passed that great pine when 
 I fired. We must go back to camp now. I am 
 glad we do not return empty handed." 
 
 "Walk slowly along the trail we came, and I 
 will join you in a few minutes," said Ferris, as 
 he hurried in the direction the deer had taken. 
 Skilled as he was in hunting big game, he found 
 no difficulty in following the fresh tracks of the 
 buck in the soft earth and pine needles, but he 
 was about to conclude that Helen had, indeed, 
 missed when he came upon a pool of fresh 
 blood along the trail. It was plain that the 
 animal was wounded, and from the fact that he 
 did not bleed at once, he knew that the hemor 
 rhage was internal and the wound a bad one. 
 Noting the spot, he joined Helen and they were 
 soon in camp. 
 
 At the landing Joe was busily engaged in 
 whittling out a paddle of white birch, but with 
 a few hurried directions from Ferris, he dropped 
 his work, took his pack straps and, calling to 
 Charley in Chippewa, the two disappeared in 
 the direction of Twin Lakes. 
 
 As the party finished luncheon an hour later, 
 Joe called Ferris aside and told him that he and 
 Charley had brought in both the wolf and the 
 buck and hung them on the beach beyond the 
 landing. At the table Helen had given a graphic 
 account of their morning's adventure, sounding
 
 l6o OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the praises of Ferris's marksmanship and lament 
 ing her own lack of skill. Ferris now invited 
 all to view the game, but allowed Helen and 
 Moulton to go first, that the surprise might be 
 the more complete. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Leaving their fellow-campers to their own 
 devices after luncheon, Ferris and Madge went 
 to the river in search of the lost rod. Madge 
 had brought with her a trolling line with a 
 heavy spoon-hook, and after a few unsuccessful 
 casts across the pool at the edge of which 
 Ferris had met with his accident, the spoon 
 caught in his line, which had been carried 
 down stream, doubtless by a trout, as the 
 sombre " brown- hackle " was the only fly left 
 upon the leader. The rod was found unbroken, 
 and after stretching the line to dry, they 
 wandered up stream until they reached the 
 fallen tree, which made an easy bridge between 
 the banks. 
 
 "I will show you one of my favorite old 
 haunts," said Madge, as they crossed the stream. 
 " It is only a little way from the river. When 
 Uncle Tom and I camped here I used to spend 
 many hours there while he was hunting and 
 botanizing. It was beautiful then, and I imagine 
 must be so still. Time makes very little change 
 in these dear old woods. Uncle Tom called
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. l6l 
 
 this my throne," she said, a moment later, as 
 they reached the brow of the little hill, on the 
 very top of which three tall Norway pines grew 
 a few feet apart, forming a small triangular 
 space, in which Burton years before had built a 
 rustic bench. 
 
 Brushing away the leaves and pine needles that 
 had accumulated upon it, Madge seated herself. 
 
 " Won't you share my throne with me ? " she 
 said lightly. " It is really not so rough and un 
 comfortable as it looks." 
 
 Ferris stood before her a moment in admira 
 tion. With such environment she was indeed beau 
 tiful. His heart was beating so fast that he could 
 scarcely speak, and yet his whole soul was seek 
 ing utterance. She looked into his eyes and the 
 color crept into her cheeks. If possible, she 
 would have stopped the flood of passion that was 
 sweeping toward her. But it was too late. He 
 came quite close and, looking earnestly at her 
 as she sat with her eyes downcast and her hands 
 clasped in her lap, said very gently and slowly, 
 his voice tremulous as he spoke : 
 
 " My queen, I want to share your life with 
 you. You told me last night that love made its 
 presence known. If that is true, you must 
 know, in a measure, what I feel, better than any 
 words can tell. My heart has been saying three 
 little words so fast, so constantly, that they seem
 
 1 62 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 to have crowded out all other words as they have 
 all other thought I love you ; I love you." 
 
 "No, no, do not say that, I beg. You 
 must not. Indeed you must not. It can mean 
 but wretchedness for you for both of us. I 
 know, Mr. Ferris, the truth of what I say. For 
 get that you have spoken to me of this, and let 
 us go back to camp." 
 
 As she spoke, she rose. Her eyes met his, 
 and he saw her utter unhappiness. 
 
 "It is too late," he said sadly. " I know that 
 I love you. It is the one certainty of my life. I 
 feared that it might be hopeless that you 
 cared for another. Yet I could not help telling 
 you. Fool that I was, to think that a miserable 
 fellow like myself, who has never had the art to 
 win a woman's smile, should aspire to your love. 
 But you have filled my life since I have known 
 you. I would work so hard for you ; I would 
 wait so patiently for you ; I would try to be as 
 other men whom women care for if only 
 sometime, perhaps, ever so long from now, I 
 could hope to win you. Tell me that you love 
 another, and I will go away ; or if you do not, 
 let me hope, let me try. Do not send me 
 away." 
 
 As he spoke, Madge sank hopelessly to the 
 seat and covered her eyes with her hands. She 
 was silent for a moment, but Ferris could see
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 163 
 
 that he had caused her to weep, and an infinite 
 sadness came over him. 
 
 " I am sorry, dear, that I have made you so 
 unhappy. Tell me that there is another, and I 
 will leave you. You will forget that I have 
 made this shadow in your holiday, and I I 
 my God, I will live on 
 
 "No, no, Robert, do not speak like that; I 
 cannot bear it. Indeed, I cannot," she cried, 
 looking him full in the face and brushing the 
 tears from her eyes. " There is no other there 
 has never been another I love you. I seem to 
 have loved you always. No, no, do not take 
 my hand. Listen to me, Robert, for I must tell 
 you why you shall not love me, though it breaks 
 my heart." 
 
 "Say what you will, now, darling. Your 
 voice will be music even if you speak my 
 doom." 
 
 He sat on the bed of soft pine needles at her 
 feet, and leaning against the seat, rested his hand 
 on a fold of her dress, for it was part of her. 
 He could have been happy now, come what 
 might, except for the sorrow that overwhelmed 
 her, for she had said she loved him, and this was 
 all his heart could compass. 
 
 "Oh! Robert, if I might only forget for a 
 little while; if I might hear you say you love me, 
 and forget that I can never claim your love, I
 
 164 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 would willingly bear a lifetime of wretchedness. 
 But you must go away from me, Robert, 
 dear " 
 
 " Never, my darling." 
 
 " Yes, but you must, and you must forget me. 
 Oh! that is the hardest thought of all. It is 
 dreadful, but I must have courage to tell you. 
 Please do not look at me so, do not look up 
 again until I have finished, and then you must 
 bid me good-bye. Robert, you have heard me 
 call Dr. Burton my uncle. He is not ; I am 
 nobody's child. I am 
 
 " You are mine, dearest. Do not think of 
 the past again. Forget it. Let us think only 
 of the future that holds so much in store for us 
 now. There can be no one to claim your love 
 but me, and in return I will give you in such 
 measure that you shall not miss the love of 
 others." 
 
 " Do not tempt me, Robert, to forget a vow 
 that is part of my conscience. I made it years 
 ago, when I was a mere child and scarcely old 
 enough to appreciate the wretchedness it might 
 bring. No, no, I shall never accept the love of 
 any man, unless I know that my blood is free 
 from the taint of sin. If I loved you less it 
 would be easier to break this vow, to think only 
 of my own happiness, to flatter myself that I 
 could make you forget that the woman you loved
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 165 
 
 was a waif, a child of the street, maybe. 
 Gladly would I risk all, the chiding of my own 
 conscience, the waning of your love, if my hap 
 piness alone were at stake, but I will not jeopar 
 dize yours. It may seem hard to you now, 
 dearest, but some day, a long, long time from 
 now, you will realize that I am right. You must 
 go away now. You must forget to-day. Forget 
 that you have told me of your love. In time 
 you will find some one more worthy to receive 
 this great gift, and I will pray for that time, 
 Robert, with my whole heart. I did not mean 
 that you should know that I love you. It 
 would have been easier for you had I not done 
 so. But leave me now, and I will bid you good 
 bye to-morrow." 
 
 While Madge spoke thus, slowly and with tears 
 in her voice, the old look of determination came 
 back to Ferris's face, and with earnestness he said: 
 
 " Do you think, dear, that I can lose you 
 now? You do not know my heart ; I cannot 
 believe that what you dread is true. Tell me 
 what you know of your life, and I will prove, 
 if it takes the best years of my life, that your 
 fears are groundless. Only let me know all, and 
 I will begin to-morrow." 
 
 For an instant a look of happiness, born of 
 hope, came into her face, but it passed as quickly. 
 
 " There is little to tell. When I was but a
 
 1 66 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 few months old, my mother was shipwrecked on 
 the Delaware coast. It was in September of 
 1862. The vessel, 'La Stella,' sailed from Lis 
 bon in July. My mother and I were the only 
 passengers, and of the crew, all were lost except 
 two sailors. Dr. Burton took my mother and 
 me to his home, and soon after that she died. 
 Of my father I have never been able to learn 
 anything not even his name. Before she died 
 she asked that I might be called Margery Seaton 
 the same name that marks her grave. Years 
 ago, when I learned that Dr. Burton was not 
 related to me, I sought to learn more of my 
 father, but he discouraged the attempt, for he 
 could give me no hope of success. Last fall I 
 went to Lisbon. I searched for weeks for some 
 clue, but in vain. I found the name of Seaton 
 only once in the church register and that was 
 many years before I was born. A woman of 
 that name had married the British Consul, who 
 died a few years afterwards, and of his descend 
 ants I could learn nothing. I paid men to help 
 me in my search. We found the record of the 
 vessel, but it did not show that on her last voy 
 age she carried any passengers. No, I cannot 
 see a ray of hope." 
 
 " Do not despair, dearest. Let me take up 
 the search. I feel that I shall succeed. May I 
 talk with Dr. Burton before I begin ? You
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 167 
 
 know this means everything to me. And when 
 I succeed, as I know I shall " 
 
 " Then come back to me, Robert, and I will 
 give you such love as never woman gave before. 
 Yes, you may tell Uncle Tom, but not Captain 
 Vinton. It would grieve him, and he is devoted 
 to you beyond all else in the world." 
 
 Many were the questions that Ferris put to 
 Madge in the hope of getting some further clue 
 to her parentage. While he discovered little 
 that could be of service to him in his search, his 
 inquiries awakened in Madge a new hope, for 
 they served to show her how much more clever 
 and systematic would be his method of conduct 
 ing the search than hers had been. 
 
 The shadows were deepening in the woods, 
 the sunlight touching only the tops of the taller 
 pines, when they realized that it was time to re 
 turn to camp. After crossing the river Ferris 
 picked up his rod, and as they walked along 
 Madge slowly wound in the line upon his reel. 
 When this was done, he said: "You will keep 
 these, Madge dear, until I come again?" 
 
 For an hour they had almost forgotten that 
 there could be any doubt as to his return. These 
 words brought again to Madge the thought that 
 he might never come back to her and she an 
 swered sadly: "Yes, Robert. But if you should 
 not return ?"
 
 1 68 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Do not question, dearest ; I know that I 
 shall. My only dread is that the time may be 
 long, but I shall not fail." 
 
 As they neared the camp they walked more 
 slowly, reluctant that this last sweet meeting 
 should end. Almost in sight of camp they 
 stopped. 
 
 " Robert, dear," Madge held out her hand to 
 him and he saw tears in her eyes as he took it. 
 
 " Not ' good-bye,' darling, but ' courage ' ; " 
 he drew her gently to him and the first kiss of 
 love of these two strong hearts was given. 
 
 A moment later they reached the camp and 
 found the dinner awaiting them. All but Whit 
 ney were in camp. He had gone duck-shooting 
 and would no doubt be absent so long as there 
 was daylight enough for him to see the sights of 
 his gun. Helen and Moulton were watching the 
 Indians pile up the logs for the evening camp- 
 fire, the size of which grew with the increasing 
 coldness of the autumn nights. Mrs. Elting 
 was busy writing a letter, and Burton and Vinton 
 were sitting on an old log near the cook's tent 
 chatting away like old-time friends, for camp life 
 is a rapid developer of affinities. 
 
 A few vigorous raps by old Dan'l on the bot 
 tom of a tin pan announced dinner and brought 
 the party together at the table. For the first 
 time since he joined the party, Ferris was in high
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 169 
 
 spirits and, as Vinton said, " quite like his old 
 self." His going in the morning was not men 
 tioned during the meal. Helen knew that he 
 and Madge had spent the afternoon together, and 
 with quick intuition divined the cause of his 
 happiness ; and once or twice when Ferris caught 
 her eyes he felt the color come into his cheeks 
 and his heart beat faster. Yet he knew that in 
 her his secret had a safe custodian. 
 
 The camp fire was snapping briskly in the 
 crisp air as they gathered around it after dinner, 
 the sparks chasing each other into the leafy 
 darkness above until lost in the high boughs of 
 the old hemlock that stretched over and beyond 
 the smaller trees. As they left the table, Whit 
 ney appeared with a good bag of ducks, which he 
 hung with reluctance on the game rack ; he 
 would have preferred to spread them out for the 
 admiration of the others, since he alone had con 
 tributed to the replenishment of the larder. But 
 appetite was stronger than pride, and after a 
 hurried toilet he joined the Indians and Dan'l at 
 their meal. 
 
 The chill night air, which promised a heavy 
 frost, brought all close about the fire. Ferris 
 found a place on the rug beside Madge, where, 
 by turning his back to the fire he could watch 
 her face ; to-night it was radiant. Helen and 
 Moulton occupied a rustic settee mounted on rude
 
 I7O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 rockers, but withal very comfortable and dedi 
 cated to the " orchestra," as Moulton dubbed 
 Helen and himself. It was an ideal night ; not 
 a cloud was in the sky, and the myriads of stars 
 showed through the leaves and open places and 
 found reflection on the surface of the lake, which 
 was rippled by the faintest breeze. 
 
 Moulton tuned his banjo and found vent for 
 his excess of spirits in a number of topical songs 
 that he had been lucky enough to get hold of 
 before they became too familiar. Then Helen 
 and he sang together, and later he improvised an 
 accompaniment to the " Canadian Boat Song," 
 and others of those good old-fashioned choruses 
 which all knew and the simple harmonies of 
 which invited all to join. Vinton, too, in a 
 crude but melodious baritone, sang a rhythmical 
 old Spanish boat song that drew Dan'l from his 
 dishes. 
 
 Vinton noticed him in the shadow across the 
 camp-fire as he finished, and said : " It's a long 
 time, Dan'l, since you heard that song." 
 
 " Ay, sor, nigh twenty-seven years ; but it's 
 mighty good to hear your voice again." 
 
 Dan'l returned to his dishes ; but the memory 
 awakened by the old song absorbed Vinton's 
 thought, and soon after he drew his top coat over 
 his shoulders and strolled down to the landing. 
 A little later Madge said a general good-night
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 1 71 
 
 to all, and as she leaned over in rising from the 
 rug, whispered a special " good-night, Robert 
 dear," very softly; so softly, indeed, that only 
 one heard it, but his heart beat fast with happi 
 ness for an hour afterwards. 
 
 Helen and Mrs. Elting went with Madge, and 
 Whitney and Moulton disappeared in their tent 
 arm in arm, humming the chorus of an old col 
 lege song. Ferris remained by the fire a short 
 time and then sought Vinton to tell him of his 
 departure. It was a sad disappointment to his 
 old friend, for they had had no fishing or hunt 
 ing together ; but no argument or thought of 
 pleasure could change Ferris' plans. As they 
 were parting for the night Vinton said : 
 
 " There is another reason, Robert, why I am 
 sorry to have you go. You are nearer to me, boy, 
 than any one else ; you are as my own child. I 
 had hoped that perhaps you might care for Miss 
 Seaton ; she is such a noble girl." 
 
 Gladly would he have told Vinton all, but for 
 the promise to Madge. As it was, he simply 
 answered : 
 
 " Do not worry about me, Uncle Phil. Some 
 time I may surprise you, for indeed, I am not 
 as indifferent to women as I am credited with 
 being."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IT is always an unpleasant incident of camp 
 life to have one of the party leave ; it is 
 like losing a member of one's family, and the 
 return to civilization seems quite like going to a 
 far-away country. When Ferris announced his 
 departure at the breakfast table the next morn 
 ing it was received with a storm of protest. But 
 for him there was now only one object the 
 winning of Madge and he was impatient to 
 talk with Burton and begin the search upon the 
 success of which his happiness depended. It 
 was a disappointment to him, therefore, when he 
 found that Burton had arranged to have Joe 
 take him back to the cabins by the river route, 
 which would consume the entire day. He pro 
 tested that he was strong enough to make the 
 journey through the woods, but Burton insisted 
 that he should go by the river, and as Madge 
 favored this plan, he reluctantly yielded. 
 
 Whitney had started at daylight with Charley 
 to investigate a lake some ten miles away that 
 gave promise of good shooting. The others, 
 172
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 173 
 
 with the exception of Mrs. Elting, walked with 
 Ferris to the river and part way to the rapids, 
 where he was to take the canoe. He had stated 
 as the reason for his departure, that there was an 
 important matter requiring his attention, and all 
 except Madge thought it had to do with the 
 labor troubles, and asked no questions. 
 
 " I do hope, Robert," said Vinton, as they 
 were about to part, " that, if possible, you will 
 join us again. Now promise me that if you can 
 finish your work before we break camp you will 
 come back." 
 
 " Indeed I will. If I succeed before you are 
 out of the woods I shall take the first train for 
 Keating. The errand is urgent and may require 
 some time for its accomplishment but I am 
 confident," he added, looking at Madge, "that 
 in the end I shall succeed." 
 
 "No doubt of that, my boy, for you always 
 do ; but see that the end is reached soon, so that 
 we may have you again. Will you stop long at 
 Keating, or go at once to Chicago ? " 
 
 " To Chicago direct, and after a day there I 
 shall probably go East for a few days, at least. 
 I shall see you in Chicago if I fail to meet you 
 here again." 
 
 As Madge gave him her hand, she said 
 simply : " I trust we shall meet again very 
 soon."
 
 174 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 A furtive glance at her face as she spoke told 
 Helen that the girl's heart had gone with Ferris. 
 
 For some time after they left the party, Ferris 
 and Joe walked on in silence, the Indian in ad 
 vance. Suddenly the latter stopped and look 
 ing back said eagerly: " Man come." A 
 moment later Vinton was seen hurrying toward 
 them. 
 
 " I will walk a little way with you," he said. 
 " It occurred to me, after you said you would go 
 East, that probably you would be in New York. 
 If so, I want you to do something for me. This 
 is the key to my box in the Surety Company's 
 office. You know Judge Durham, the president ; 
 he will see that you get access to it. In the 
 front of the box you will find a small leather 
 case. If you come here before we break camp 
 bring it with you; otherwise, keep it in Chicago 
 until I see you. Be careful of it, Robert, for it 
 is of great value to me by reason of its associa 
 tions." 
 
 Vinton accompanied Ferris and Joe to the 
 rapids and watched them disappear beyond the 
 bend of the river. Then turning toward camp, 
 he said musingly : " How like his father. I 
 seem almost to be living my youth over again." 
 
 Burton did not start for his cabin until after 
 luncheon. Madge walked with him several 
 miles but she was depressed and talked little,
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 175 
 
 " What is it that troubles you, Madge ? " he 
 asked, as she was about to leave him. " Isn't 
 the camp congenial ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. The trouble is with myself. I 
 am a coward ; I did not know that I was so 
 weak. I am weighed down by a feeling of lone 
 liness such as I have never known. It is fool 
 ish, I know, uncle dear, and you have been so 
 good to me. But I cannot help it to-day. To 
 morrow, perhaps, I shall be stronger." 
 
 " You must not feel so, child. I will go back 
 to camp with you and send Charley to meet 
 Ferris and explain my absence. There is no real 
 necessity for my going." 
 
 " Yes, but there is, I am sure. He would not 
 go without seeing you. Indeed, I know he 
 would not." 
 
 Burton turned as she spoke. He saw the color 
 mount to her temples and, taking her hands, 
 said : 
 
 " What does this mean, Madge dear ? Look 
 at me, child. Do you love him ? " 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled 
 sadly through them, as she answered slowly: 
 
 "All -the love that I have not given you, 
 uncle, is his. Do not ask me more. He will 
 tell you all, and you will know why I am so 
 wretched. Good-bye, uncle dear. Come day 
 after to-morrow, if you can, and you will find
 
 1 76 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 me your own old Madge again." And brushing 
 the tears from her eyes, she turned and walked 
 slowly back over the trail. 
 
 Burton stood for a moment undecided 
 whether to return with her or go on, then 
 reluctantly resumed his journey. As he pon 
 dered over what Madge had said, he became 
 more and more perplexed. It did not occur 
 to him at first that Ferris might not love her, 
 but as he considered how utterly miserable she 
 seemed, the possibility of some such untoward 
 complication suggested itself. Else why was 
 she so unhappy, and why was he so anxious to 
 leave the camp? Burton had conceived a strong 
 attachment for Ferris in the short time he had 
 known him, and could not believe that he was 
 the man to seek to win a woman's love unless 
 his own were given in return. Madge he knew 
 to be in earnest, and he knew, too, that what 
 ever the obstacle in the way of her union with 
 Ferris, it was to her a real and, as she believed, 
 an insurmountable one. His one great concern 
 was for her happiness. The fact that the realiza 
 tion of that happiness would take her from him, 
 did not lessen his desire that it should be at 
 tained. Since the death of his wife she had 
 been the centre of his thoughts ; had she been 
 his own child, he could not have lavished upon 
 her a greater devotion. What could it be that
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 177 
 
 stood between her and her love for Ferris ? 
 Again and again he found himself asking this 
 question, as he hastened toward his cabins. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when he reached 
 them and found that Ferris and Joe had arrived 
 an hour before. Ferris had changed his cloth 
 ing and was watching Adam prepare the dinner. 
 The old negro was not inclined to be talkative, 
 but when Ferris told him how Madge had found 
 him with his arm broken and had taken him 
 into camp, and how kind she had been to him 
 since, his eyes brightened and his face showed 
 the affection with which he regarded her. 
 
 " She never told me that, sah, when she come 
 here after Mister Thomas. She jes' said you 
 had broke your arm, but she didn't give herself 
 no credit. But it's jes' like her. She allus was 
 a cur'ous child ever since she was a little baby." 
 
 " Have you known her so long as that, 
 Adam?" Ferris asked. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sah. I knowed her when she 
 fust come. I mean when Mister Thomas saved 
 her and her ma from the wreck of the ' Stella.' 
 Lord, sah, that was a tur'ble day. You oughter 
 git Mister Thomas to tell you 'bout it. I was 
 brought up on the marsh, but I never see sech a 
 storm as we had that time. Out of the whole 
 crew of the vessel there was only two saved be 
 sides Miss Madge and her ma, and they'd a
 
 178 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 gone, too, if Mister Thomas hadn't saved 'em. 
 That seems a long time ago, Mister Ferris, and 
 I'm getting to be a purty ole man, but I can't 
 never forget that day as long as I live." 
 
 "Do you remember her mother?" Ferris 
 next asked. 
 
 " Yes, sah, she lived more'n a month after 
 that, but I reckon she never got over the cold 
 she ketched at that time. She was 'xactly like 
 Miss Madge in her looks, 'ceptin' a good deal 
 paler, but I don't b'lieve you could a tole 'em 
 apart. When I seen Miss Madge come over here 
 the other night paler'n a sheet and a laying in 
 her bed like she was dead, I tell you, sah, it give 
 me the creeps, she looked so much like her ma 
 when she was laid out. Poor child, but she 
 never missed her ma, for Mister Thomas he's 
 been same as one to her all'us." 
 
 There were tears in the old negro's eyes, and 
 he might have broken down completely, had 
 not his quick sense of smell detected something 
 burning. He turned just in time to save the 
 fish on the stove, and Ferris, walking to the 
 door, saw Burton coming from the woods across 
 the bridge. 
 
 If Burton had entertained any question as to 
 Ferris's honesty of heart, it disappeared when 
 he looked into his clear gray eyes and felt the 
 earnest grasp of his hand. Ferris noticed that
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 1 79 
 
 he was looking unusually serious, but attributed 
 it to the fatigue of his long tramp. 
 
 " It will probably be a half hour before din 
 ner, and I must take a look at your arm. Perhaps 
 I can relieve you of the splints," said Burton, as 
 they went into his room. 
 
 "Indeed, I hope so," Ferris replied, "for I 
 shall have need of both hands and of my head, 
 too, in the work that is before me." 
 
 Burton looked him squarely in the face, and 
 seeing the earnest questioning expression, Ferris 
 added with a half-smile, the color coming to his 
 cheeks as he spoke : 
 
 " I will tell you what this work is, Doctor, 
 for it concerns you as well as myself. You have 
 helped me before, and I am sure you can in 
 this. It has to do with Miss Seaton and her 
 happiness as well as mine. I have asked her 
 to be my wife." 
 
 Ferris paused, and a smile of relief came into 
 Burton's face, but it passed as Ferris added : 
 " She has refused to marry me until she knows 
 more about her parentage. My work now is to 
 learn of it. Perhaps I should have consulted 
 you before I spoke to her, but, to be frank with 
 you, I was in no mood to act deliberately, 
 though your opinion of me might then have 
 been more favorable." 
 
 "No, it would not have been. I am con-
 
 l8o OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 ceited enough to value my own estimate of a 
 man, and I have liked you, Robert, since we first 
 met. I will help you so far as I possibly can, 
 and most gladly." 
 
 But Burton, even as he spoke, realized the 
 nature of the condition that stood between Fer 
 ris and his happiness. He knew that Madge 
 would not alter her determination, and he be 
 lieved that the attempt to establish her legiti 
 macy must end in failure or worse. In his pro 
 fessional work he had learned that oftentimes 
 the most beautiful and attractive children are 
 born outside the bonds of marriage; so that 
 Madge's charms of mind and body brought no 
 argument to him as they did to Ferris. 
 
 " From what you know, do you think we shall 
 be successful?" Ferris asked. 
 
 Burton paused a moment, for he could not 
 find it in his heart to say what he really thought. 
 He answered: 
 
 " Let me think about it until after dinner. 
 We will talk it over then." 
 
 Burton found that Ferris's arm had healed 
 so rapidly that he could safely remove the splints, 
 which he did upon condition that for at least a 
 week he would wear it in a sling. There was 
 but little conversation at dinner, for each was 
 absorbed in his own schemes for solving the 
 problem that was now all-important to both.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. l8l 
 
 In Burton's room they sipped their coffee in 
 silence in front of the small fire on the open 
 hearth. It seemed a long time to Ferris since 
 last he had sat in that room, although in fact only 
 a week had passed. But in that short time the 
 purpose of his life had changed. Then the most 
 absorbing motive was his work and the study in 
 cident to it; now these seemed trivial compared 
 with the task that lay between him and the gain 
 ing of Madge. Burton had lighted a cigar with 
 Ferris, but after smoking it a few moments he 
 tossed it into the fire, and rising restlessly, filled 
 his pipe. 
 
 " I can't think with a cigar. It is too dis 
 tracting to one who is out of the habit of smok 
 ing them, as I am when in the woods," he said, 
 as he resumed his seat. 
 
 Ferris rose to set his coffee cup upon the 
 table, and after walking back and forth across 
 the room, drew his chair near Burton's and 
 said: 
 
 "What effort have you made to find him?" 
 
 " To be honest with you, Robert but little 
 and for the reason that it seemed hopeless with 
 the facts I had before me. Had I foreseen what 
 has now happened I might have done differently; 
 but I have always been able to give her every 
 thing she needed or wished, and until now I 
 have never realized that the question of her
 
 1 82 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 parentage might be of such serious moment to 
 her." 
 
 " Why is it that you regard the attempt to 
 find her father as hopeless? Are there no clues 
 whatever?" 
 
 "Yes, but I am sorry to say they do not point 
 to success. I will tell you what I know and you 
 can then judge for yourself." 
 
 Burton rose from his chair, and, laying his 
 pipe upon the mantel, stood with his back to the 
 fire and his hand over his eyes, as if trying to 
 recall the scenes he was about to recount. After 
 a moment's silence, he said: 
 
 "On September 13, 1862, the Spanish brig 
 ' La Stella ' was wrecked on the Delaware coast 
 near the town of Lewes. We had been having 
 a succession of storms from the first of the month, 
 which culminated in the gale of the i3th. The 
 Delaware breakwater was at that time incom 
 plete, but it gave fair shelter and was laid down 
 on the charts. For several days much wreckage 
 had come ashore, and the men of the town were 
 well-nigh exhausted with the labor of patrol 
 ling the beach. I had been on duty the night of 
 the 1 2th and was on my way home, when I saw, 
 in the dim light of the dawn, a hull out at sea 
 and in distress. Her mainmast and mizzenmast 
 had completely gone; her foretopmast, also, had 
 been blown away, and a ragged jib was the only
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 183 
 
 sail she carried. As it grew lighter we could see 
 that she was making for the breakwater, but her 
 hull was well down and her progress slow. By 
 nine o'clock she had come so near that with a 
 strong glass we could see the men at the pumps 
 and we believed that she would make the anchor 
 age all right. When within two miles of the 
 breakwater, the captain, who was at the wheel, 
 was washed overboard, and the man who took 
 his place was evidently ignorant of the coast, 
 for he altered her course and headed her direct 
 ly for the point of shoals inside the cape. We 
 tried by signals to have them stand farther out, 
 but our signals were either not seen or were mis 
 understood, for in half an hour the brig was 
 hard aground with every sea washing over her 
 decks. There were but eight men left of the 
 crew and of these only two reached shore alive. 
 The ship's boats had evidently been carried 
 away in the gale, and the men jumped into the 
 sea with such wreckage as they could find. It 
 was impossible, as the sea was running, to launch 
 a boat in the surf, and we could offer no help 
 whatever. 
 
 " After the ship was deserted, as we thought, I 
 saw a woman come from the forward companion- 
 way and climb to the cross-trees of the fore 
 mast. How she managed to reach that position 
 without being swept off by the sea was a mys-
 
 184 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tery, but she did, and when there she wedged 
 herself fast in the rigging. Again and again 
 during the forenoon we tried without success to 
 launch a boat. In the afternoon the wind went 
 down somewhat. I could find only four men 
 able to handle a boat. After much difficulty we 
 succeeded in getting through the surf and 
 headed for the wreck, but in our exhausted con 
 dition our progress was very slow. We were 
 within hailing distance and were pulling round, 
 for we had drifted to leeward, when one of the 
 oars crabbed and the boat, caught in the trough 
 of the sea, was capsized. My men clung to the 
 boat, but when I came to the surface I found my 
 self at some distance from it, still holding to my 
 oar. I swam for the wreck and at last reached it 
 exhausted, I assure you. Fortunately, the sea, 
 sweeping over the deck, left me there, and I 
 managed to get into the rigging. Then I dis 
 covered that the woman had a child bound close 
 to her breast by a woolen scarf or shawl. The 
 child was Madge and she was sleeping as sweetly 
 as if the rocking mast were a cradle. Her 
 mother was almost exhausted from exposure and 
 hunger. I signalled to the men on the shore 
 for help, and more than once I saw them fail in 
 the attempt to launch a boat through the surf. 
 The child awoke and began to cry with hunger ( 
 but the exhausted mother could give her no
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 185 
 
 food. My God ! I shall never forget that 
 mother's face as her great brown eyes looked 
 despairingly into mine. I tried to encourage 
 her but she had lost hope. For a long time she 
 leaned against me with her eyes closed and her 
 weak hands trying to comfort the sobbing child. 
 At last she cried faintly: 'I am growing cold. 
 Can you keep baby warm ? ' I tucked the little 
 thing in the front of my woolen shirt and the 
 heat of my body soon soothed her to sleep. The 
 mother smiled faintly and said : ' If you should 
 be saved will you be very good to her ? She is 
 so dear to me. How can I leave my child alone ? 
 Oh, God, protect her.' I thought she was dying, 
 for her pulse was scarcely perceptible. The 
 darkness was beginning to come on, so that I 
 could hardly see the men on the shore, and 
 although the sea was subsiding somewhat, I had 
 about abandoned hope, when I heard the deep 
 blast of a steamer's whistle, and turning I saw an 
 ocean liner heading for the breakwater and not 
 over half a mile away. I signalled frantically, 
 and you can imagine my sensation when I saw 
 that they had succeeded in lowering a boat and 
 had sent it to our rescue. Just how they man 
 aged to get us down from the rigging with the 
 sea running as it was, is still a mystery to me, 
 and I have no recollection of boarding the 
 steamer, which we did behind the breakwater.
 
 1 86 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 When I recovered consciousness I found myself 
 in bed with the child beside me and fast asleep. 
 The ship's surgeon assured me that my child 
 was all right and that my wife (for such he sup 
 posed the babe's mother to be) was resting 
 quietly. 
 
 "In the morning we went ashore, and I took 
 Madge and her mother to my home. Under the 
 tender care of my wife, Madge grew strong and 
 well, but her mother never recovered from the 
 shock, and although she lived nearly two months, 
 was never able to leave the house. During the 
 first month of her illness, which was typhoid- 
 pneumonia, I did not allow her to talk of mat 
 ters that might excite her. When her con 
 valescence began she asked permission to write 
 a letter, and when it was finished and sealed, she 
 requested me to direct it to the Secretary of the 
 Navy, which I did. She then told me that she 
 had written to learn the whereabouts of her hus 
 band, from whom she had had no word for a 
 long time. She told me also that she had 
 married secretly an American officer against the 
 will of her father, who had died shortly after, 
 leaving her absolutely alone in the world. I 
 might have learned more from her then, but I 
 found that it was taxing her strength to talk of 
 the matter. 
 
 " Nearly two weeks passed before any word
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 187 
 
 came from Washington. During that time she 
 continued slowly to improve and was finally able 
 to sit up. Each day she inquired anxiously for 
 the mail, and I remember the eagerness with 
 which she opened the official envelope that con 
 tained the answer to her letter. She had been 
 sitting before the fire with Madge upon her knee 
 as happy as a cricket. As I entered the room, 
 she arose, holding the child in her arms. She 
 read the letter through, and seemed stunned. 
 Again she read it, and then let it fall into 
 the open fire and sank into a chair. I has 
 tened to her, thinking she had fainted, but 
 she had not. She said almost inaudibly, ' Dead, 
 dead; oh, my child, my child.' She lived 
 but two days after that. Before she died she 
 asked me to keep her fatherless child and to 
 call her Margery Seaton. I promised to care 
 for her as my own, and I have tried, Robert, to 
 keep my promise." 
 
 Burton paused a moment and, passing his 
 hand across his eyes, continued : 
 
 "My wife was an invalid and we had no chil 
 dren of our own, having lost our little girl six 
 months before. For two years I struggled at 
 my profession in Lewes. Then my wife died, 
 and almost immediately thereafter my uncle was 
 killed in the war, leaving to me considerable 
 property in Detroit, to which place I at once re-
 
 1 88 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 moved. I searched the naval register, but found 
 there no officer of the name of Seaton. Several 
 years afterwards I went to Washington and en 
 deavored to find the letter of inquiry, thinking 
 to obtain the real name of Madge's father from 
 that. The letter was not in the files of the de 
 partment, or at any rate, could not be found. I 
 have made no further effort to ascertain her par 
 entage. I have given you, I think, all the facts 
 in my possession, and I trust that you may see 
 some ray of hope, for I confess I do not. Per 
 haps in Lisbon, from which port the ' Stella ' 
 sailed, something may be learned, but I doubt it." 
 
 Ferris was silent for a few moments after 
 Burton had finished. Then he said : 
 
 "No, I will begin my search in this country. 
 I will go first to Washington and endeavor to 
 obtain possession of the letter written by Mrs. 
 Seaton to the Secretary of the Navy. Failing to 
 find that, I will learn what ships were stationed 
 at Lisbon or thereabouts at the beginning of our 
 war, and ascertain the names of their officers and 
 of those that were killed or died before that let 
 ter was answered. I wish Uncle Phil were going 
 with me; he could help me in this. However, 
 some of my father's friends are stationed in 
 Washington, and I am sure they will serve me. 
 What became of the two sailors who escaped 
 from the wreck ?"
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 189 
 
 " One went to sea again almost immediately. 
 The other is living in New York, or was two 
 years ago, when I ran across him by chance on 
 the street. His name is Vironi and he keeps a 
 sailor's boarding house." 
 
 "If I am unsuccessful in Washington, I shall 
 look him up. Perhaps something may be learned 
 from him. Did the mother leave anything that 
 might serve in the way of identification ?" 
 
 " No, I think not. She had no jewelry, ex 
 cept a small locket containing a knot of brown 
 hair, which she wore on a chain about her neck, 
 and Madge, I think, wears it now. On her left 
 hand she wore a plain gold ring, which was 
 buried with her. I understood from her that 
 everything she possessed was lost in the wreck." 
 
 " Was no attempt made to recover the cargo ? " 
 
 " Not at the time ; and within a few days the 
 hull went to pieces, and whatever of the cargo 
 drifted ashore was gathered up by wreckers." 
 
 Thus question after question was put to Bur 
 ton by Ferris, but in the end no new facts were 
 discovered. At last the young man asked : 
 
 " From what you saw of Mrs. Seaton, do you 
 believe that she was an honest woman ? " 
 
 " I am certain of that," was the prompt reply. 
 
 " Then why do you doubt that she was mar 
 ried to Madge's father?" 
 
 " The fact that she was honest, while tending
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 to prove that she was married, is by no means 
 conclusive. Every good and pure woman in her 
 inmost soul recognizes love as the supreme pre 
 requisite to marriage. To such, love sometimes 
 comes with so bewildering an intensity that for 
 the time at least the existence of other pre 
 requisites may be forgotten. Under such con 
 ditions, when a woman yields the citadel of her 
 heart the surrender may be absolute, if the cap 
 tor be a dastard. A woman's greatest strength 
 is in her power to love, and therein, too, lies her 
 greatest weakness. I do not say that this was 
 the case with Madge's mother ; but the fact that 
 her father for a year gave no sign of his purpose 
 to return and that he apparently deceived her as 
 to his real name, makes me think that in other 
 ways he was false to her. Perhaps the formality 
 of a marriage may have been gone through, but 
 I could never see what was to be gained by 
 establishing it. The man was a villain either in 
 his betrayal of her without marriage or by his 
 desertion of her afterwards. For this reason I 
 have discouraged Madge in her efforts to find 
 him." 
 
 It was late when Ferris and Burton parted 
 for the night and much later before Ferris fell 
 asleep. As they were starting for Keating on 
 the following morning, Burton called Ferris to 
 his room and gave him the photograph of Madge.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Keep this, Robert," he said. " Some day I 
 trust you may claim the original, though she is 
 dearer to me than all else in the world." 
 
 At the mine they found John Brent in high 
 spirits. He was as delighted with the new ma 
 chinery as a child with a new toy, and the results 
 of the first week's work under the tonnage scale 
 gave assurance of the complete fulfillment of 
 their promises to the men. In his inquiries, 
 Ferris did not forget Jack Turnley, who had 
 fully recovered. Brent liked the fellow and was 
 only too glad to carry out Ferris's wishes as to 
 his reinstatement. Their reward was prompt, for 
 when Jack reported for duty after dinner, he 
 thanked them both and then inquired of Brent 
 rather sheepishly if he thought " Mr. Ferris and 
 Doc Burton would be offended if he asked them 
 to the weddin' to-morrow night." 
 
 "Thus love will find a way," said Ferris to 
 Burton, with a smile. 
 
 "And so may it ever," replied Burton, 
 significantly. 
 
 Burton waited to see Ferris aboard the south 
 bound express before leaving the town. It was 
 understood that the latter should report the re 
 sult of his eastern trip, and as soon as the camp 
 ing party came out of the woods, Burton would 
 arrange his affairs and join in the search. 
 
 " Don't be discouraged, Robert," he said, as
 
 IQ2 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 they heard the distant whistle of the train. 
 "There may be a chance of success, and we will 
 not abandon hope until we have exhausted every 
 possible resource." 
 
 "Discouraged? Believe me, I am not. It 
 will take years of failure to teach me that word." 
 
 As the train drew away from the station, Bur 
 ton mounted his horse and started for his cabin, 
 pausing a moment on the track to watch the red 
 signal lights on the rear car shining like two 
 great eyes down the long vista of towering pines. 
 Then moving on, he said with a half sigh : 
 "Surely, such courage deserves to win. Hope 
 and youth, how they go hand in hand. When 
 hope dies, youth may not long survive."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DAY in Chicago was sufficient for Ferris 
 to get his affairs in shape for his Eastern 
 trip, and within twenty-four hours after leaving 
 Keating, he was on the train for Washington. 
 He had taken but ten days' vacation in two 
 years, and his request for two months' leave was 
 readily approved by the president of the com 
 pany, who congratulated him most heartily on 
 the successful termination of the troubles at the 
 mines. 
 
 " Which way are you going, Robert ? " he 
 asked, when Ferris had told him that he would 
 start at once. 
 
 " To Washington first, and then probably to 
 New York. After that my movements are un 
 certain." 
 
 " There are no elk or bear in either of those 
 places. But perhaps you are in pursuit of fairer 
 game this time," he added, quizzingly. 
 
 Ferris colored as he answered evasively : 
 " No, the elk and bear are safe from me this 
 fall."
 
 IQ4 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 He had not been in Washington for several 
 years, but when he was a boy Vinton had been 
 stationed there for three years, and his memories 
 of the place were most pleasant. It was dusk as 
 his train neared the city. From the car window 
 he could see the dome of the capitol looming 
 high above the intervening hills and trees and 
 squalid houses between it and the river. There 
 is a personality almost about that towering mass 
 of painted iron that impresses anyone familiar 
 with it. To Ferris it brought back his childhood 
 days when he had romped through its vast vault 
 and climbed its seemingly interminable winding 
 stairway, with Vinton watching him as anxiously 
 as if he were his own. 
 
 " Dear old Uncle Phil," he said to himself. 
 " If you were only with me now when I need 
 you as never before." 
 
 At that time and perhaps it is so now 
 " The Ebbitt House " was the favored hostelry 
 of the army and navy. As the old manager 
 had known Vinton, Ferris was always sure of a 
 cordial welcome and a comfortable room ; and 
 in these he was not disappointed this time, for 
 the manager greeted him warmly and personally, 
 showed him to " Captain Vinton's old quarters," 
 as he called a suite of rooms high up on the 
 south side and overlooking the monument 
 grounds and the river beyond.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 1 95 
 
 Ferris had dressed for dinner and was stand 
 ing in front of the open window looking down 
 on the lights of the quiet city, when there was a 
 knock at the door, and a negro servant brought 
 him a card on which was engraved the name 
 " Mr. Francis Herndon," and beneath it the let 
 ters " U. S. N." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Ferris, with pleasure. 
 " Captain Herndon. Say that I will be down 
 in a moment." 
 
 " Yes, sah, I will ax de Commodore to wait 
 in de 'ception room," replied the negro, with 
 emphasis on the officer's title, as he disappeared 
 a reminder to Ferris that his old friend had 
 at last received the long coveted promotion. 
 
 Ferris had known Herndon ever since he 
 could remember, for the latter was one of those 
 fortunate officers who, in some mysterious way, 
 manage to get the choicest assignments, and 
 with the exception of the necessary minimum 
 amount of sea duty, he had been stationed 
 either at Washington or New York during the 
 greater part of his service. He had been a class 
 mate and close friend of Ferris's father and an 
 intimate of Vinton. Ferris had not seen him 
 for several years, but his appearance had changed 
 very little. He was a stout man, with a floridity 
 of complexion acquired originally by exposure 
 and perpetuated by a generous indulgence in
 
 196 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 good living a type not infrequent in army 
 and navy circles. His heart was as young as 
 ever, and his laugh reminded Ferris of the 
 times when he used to see him and Vinton 
 reminiscent over their bottle of ancient Madeira. 
 He greeted Ferris warmly, explaining that he 
 had chanced to see his name on the hotel regis 
 ter on his way to dinner and thought that, as he 
 was alone, they might dine together. His 
 family, he added, were at Newport for the sum 
 mer. He proved to be the man of all others 
 who could be of assistance to Ferris in his Wash 
 ington search ; for he was on duty at the Navy 
 Department and had easy access to such of its 
 records as might be of service. Without going 
 into details or giving names, Ferris explained to 
 him in a general way that the purpose of his 
 visit was to obtain as full and accurate informa 
 tion as possible regarding the officers of the Med 
 iterranean squadron stationed in proximity to 
 Lisbon in the summer of 1861. 
 
 " Our squadron was small at that time, for 
 Congress was as niggardly then as now in the 
 matter of naval appropriations," said Herndon, 
 closing his eyes a moment, as if the revival of 
 such ancient memories was an effort. " There 
 were but four ships in all, and of these I think 
 only the old ' Macedonian ' stopped for any con 
 siderable length of time at Lisbon. Indeed, I
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 1 97 
 
 do not now recall that during our stay there any 
 of the others touched even, until we got our sail 
 ing orders and waited for the 'Saratoga' to join 
 us. I was junior lieutenant on the ' Macedonian ' 
 at that time with Vinton and your father. Lord, 
 Bob, how you resemble him ! I loved him as 
 my own brother. But so did all of us, for that 
 matter ; " and there was a tone of pathos in the 
 old fellow's voice as he paused. 
 
 Then he gave Ferris a list of the officers and 
 a brief sketch of each, as far as he could recall 
 them, and the extent and exactness of his re 
 collection were astonishing. It appeared that 
 when the "Macedonian" was ordered home she 
 was detailed for duty at New York, being con 
 sidered about the poorest of our ships then in 
 service. Vinton and Ferris's father and a young 
 ensign named Herrick had been sent to the 
 scene of hostilities immediately upon their re 
 turn, but except these and a few of the older 
 officers there were no changes in the ship's de 
 tail of officers until the winter of 1862-1863. 
 Herrick was killed in his first engagement, 
 and Ferris's father within a few months there 
 after. 
 
 " Can you tell me something more about 
 Ensign Herrick?" Ferris asked, since from 
 what Herndon had said, he seemed the only 
 one whose career might fit the facts he had
 
 IQ8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 gathered from Burton. "Was he fond of so 
 ciety?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, very in his cold-blooded way," 
 Herndon answered. " He was not popular with 
 our mess, although he was there no oftener than 
 was necessary ; for he was eternally tagging 
 after the petticoats. In this last respect, how 
 ever, your father was not a bad second, Robert 
 a peculiarity that I understand you have not in 
 herited." 
 
 Ferris smiled, and Herndon continued : " By- 
 the-by, that reminds me of a bit of romance 
 that was gossiped generally aboard ship at that 
 time. Those of us who had known Vinton 
 well have always considered it the affair of his 
 life. Your father and he were inseparable and, 
 indeed, had been, I believe, from childhood. 
 Your mother had been dead about a year, and 
 after her death your father got sea duty, I think 
 to be near Vinton. During the first few months 
 of our cruise he was an utter recluse, but finally 
 Phil managed to drag him out of his retirement, 
 and during the latter part of our stay at Lis 
 bon he developed into a social devotee. Both 
 he and Vinton spoke Spanish fluently, and of 
 course were invited everywhere, and went. To 
 make a long story short, they both fell in love 
 with the same girl at least that was the gen 
 eral supposition the daughter of an old Eng-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 1 99 
 
 lishman living in Lisbon. Let me see, what 
 was her name? " Herndon stopped for a mo 
 ment trying vainly to recall it. Ferris tried 
 to appear interested although his thought was 
 of Herrick, who seemed to him the man about 
 whom he must learn more. " The name escapes 
 me just now ; I may recall it presently. But 
 no matter," Herndon continued. "Just before 
 we sailed it was commonly rumored, and prob 
 ably true, that your father and she were en 
 gaged and that poor Phil had got the mitten. 
 At any rate from that time he was a very dif 
 ferent fellow. Singularly enough, he and your 
 father remained fast friends, but after one ex 
 periment the girl's name was never mentioned 
 at the mess when they were present. I have 
 never heard Phil allude to her since, and the 
 matter was soon forgotten when we reached 
 home and found the condition of affairs here. 
 But it has always seemed to account to me for 
 the fact that the old chap has never married." 
 
 As soon as might be Ferris again brought the 
 conversation around to Herrick, and before the 
 dinner was over, had obtained from Herndon 
 all the information that the latter possessed 
 regarding him. The evening they spent to 
 gether at the Club, and when they separated for 
 the night it was with the understanding that 
 they should meet the next morning at the De-
 
 2OO OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 partment in order to verify Herndon's recollec 
 tion of names and dates. 
 
 On his way from the Club to the hotel Ferris 
 walked through La Fayette Square, and in the 
 quiet shadow of one of its dense shrubs, sat 
 down to think over what he had learned from 
 Herndon. To him the most discouraging fea 
 ture of the case thus far, was the fact that from 
 Herndon's account Herrick (toward whom the 
 circumstances, as he viewed them, pointed most 
 strongly as the subject of his search, on the as 
 sumption, at least, that Madge's father was an 
 officer of the American ship stationed at Lis 
 bon) was so flippant and frivolous in affairs of 
 the heart that in all probability he had never 
 married. Herrick's sister was living at their old 
 home in Boston, and Ferris decided that he 
 would visit there, stopping in New York long 
 enough to look up the sailor Vironi and to get 
 Vinton's package from the Surety Company's 
 office. But he anticipated obtaining little in 
 formation of value from Vironi that could serve 
 him on this side of the water. 
 
 When Herndon reached the Navy Depart 
 ment the next morning he found Ferris await 
 ing him, and within an hour they had consulted 
 the records and found that the information 
 given by Herndon the evening before was in all 
 essential points correct. There was nothing
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2OI 
 
 more, therefore, to he done except to institute a 
 search for the letter that Madge's mother had 
 written to the Secretary of the Navy twenty-six 
 years before and for the answer to it. For ob 
 vious reasons Ferris had avoided mentioning to 
 Herndon the name of Seaton, or informing him 
 definitely as to the object of his investigation. 
 Now, however, he felt that the secret would be 
 safe with him, and if he were to be of further 
 assistance he must know all. It seemed more 
 than probable to Ferris that Herndon should 
 have known Herrick's friends and might recog 
 nize Madge's mother even from the meager 
 description that Burton had given of her. 
 
 After Herndon had dispatched the routine 
 work of his office they went to luncheon to 
 gether, and during the meal Ferris told him 
 of his recent camping experience and of the 
 conditions that stood in the way of his mar 
 riage, and gave him as full an account as pos 
 sible of the wreck of the "Stella," mentioning 
 also the writing by Madge's mother of the let 
 ter to the Secretary of the Navy and its answer. 
 Herndon's face wore a troubled look as Ferris 
 finished the narration. 
 
 " Robert," he said, with a solemnity of voice 
 and manner quite unusual to him, " You are 
 following a fool's errand. Take my advice and
 
 2O2 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 abandon this search, for its result, I believe, can 
 be only failure or worse." 
 
 " There are two reasons," Ferris answered, 
 " why I cannot do so until every possible clue 
 has been exhausted. In the first place I do not 
 believe that there would be any hope of my 
 gaining Miss Seaton if my search should fail, 
 and then, too, I have promised her that I would 
 leave no stone unturned. I am not discouraged 
 yet. I hope to prove that Mrs. Seaton was mar 
 ried to Herrick. Do you recall any one that 
 might answer the description of Mrs. Seaton?" 
 
 Herndon paused a moment as if undecided 
 what answer to make; then he said: 
 
 " Yes, there was an English girl, whose father 
 had been retired from the diplomatic service and 
 was living on a small pension, I believe. I knew 
 her slightly and a charming girl she was. Her 
 mother was doubtless Spanish or Portuguese, for 
 the daughter was very dark and had the warm 
 blood of the South in her veins. Her name was 
 Margery Thome." 
 
 "Did Herrick know her well?" Ferris next 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, all the younger officers did. She was a 
 great favorite." 
 
 " Then do you think it improbable that it 
 may appear that he was married to her? "
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2O3 
 
 " Utterly. Herrick was a man of the world 
 ambitious, discreet and heartless. He was too 
 aspiring socially to permit himself to marry a 
 woman who had nothing to give beyond her 
 personal attractions, and his sense of honor and 
 discretion were more than ample to save his 
 small heart from any embarrassing entangle 
 ments. The code of morals of some men is 
 comprehended in the one word ' discretion.' 
 He was essentially of that type. To such, a 
 mesalliance were worse than a crime." 
 
 " Might he not have been married to her 
 secretly?" Ferris next asked. 
 
 "Yes, such a thing was possible, although 
 altogether improbable. I have known of such 
 follies, but Herrick was not the man to commit 
 them." 
 
 The conversation next turned to the proba 
 bility of finding the letter written by Mrs. Sea- 
 ton to the Secretary of the Navy, and it seemed 
 reasonably certain that, if found, it must give 
 the name of the officer to whom she at least 
 thought herself married. 
 
 " I think it exceedingly doubtful if we can find 
 either the letter or its answer, Robert," Herndon 
 said. " At the time it was written the Depart 
 ment was overwhelmed with correspondence, 
 and its clerical force was altogether inadequate 
 and incompetent to handle the mass of work
 
 2O4 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 that the first years of the war brought upon it. 
 Then, too, the records of the Department have 
 been moved a number of times from one build 
 ing to another, and have been ransacked so 
 often and so carelessly, that they are just now in 
 a most unsatisfactory condition. Still, I will 
 make every possible effort in this direction, but 
 it may require much time. I will write to you 
 as soon as the search is concluded. In the mean 
 time what shall you do? " 
 
 " I will go to-night to New York and from 
 there to Boston, for I still believe that some 
 thing may be learned from Herrick's family. 
 Failing to gain any information there, I will re 
 turn to Chicago and see Vinton and then arrange 
 to go abroad to continue the search." 
 
 A half-hour later, Ferris went to the hotel, 
 and having packed his bag, took the four o'clock 
 train for New York. Notwithstanding all that 
 Herndon had told him regarding Herrick, he 
 still believed that the man was Madge's father and 
 that it only remained to establish the fact that 
 her mother and he had been married. This he 
 hoped to learn in some way from Herrick's rela 
 tives. 
 
 When Ferris left him, Herndon found him 
 self in a quandary. From the description of Mrs. 
 Seaton he believed that she was no other than 
 Margery Thome, to whom Ferris's father
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2O5 
 
 supposed to be engaged at the time they sailed 
 from Lisbon. He had not the heart to tell Fer 
 ris this, yet when he had gone he regretted that 
 he had not done so. In the light of what he 
 had learned he now believed that Edward Ferris 
 and Margery Thome had been secretly married 
 and that for some reason the fact had never 
 been made public. When they sailed from Lis 
 bon, it was supposed that the rebellion was but 
 little more than a political scare and that a few 
 months at most would see it completely crushed 
 out. Doubtless Edward Ferris felt sure (at least 
 so Herndon reasoned), that at the end of that 
 time he could return and claim his bride. But 
 on reaching this country, the serious condition of 
 affairs rendered it impossible to obtain a leave 
 of absence even had he asked for one, and his 
 death occurred within a year thereafter. Whether 
 or not it could be proved that there had been a 
 marriage, Herndon was convinced that Edward 
 Ferris was Margery Seaton's father. His first 
 impulse was to follow Ferris to New York and 
 explain fully to him the miserable situation. 
 He realized that something should be done, and 
 without delay. After walking the floor of his 
 office during the greater part of the afternoon, 
 he decided that the better (and for him, easier,) 
 course would be to write to Ferris and to Vinton 
 also. His letter to Ferris was characteristic of
 
 2O6 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the writer brief, straightforward and full of 
 sympathy. When he had finished it he was tired, 
 for into his easy-going life such worrisome mat 
 ters seldom intruded, and the letter to Vinton 
 was left for the morrow. 
 
 When Ferris received Herndon's letter on the 
 morning after his arrival in New York, he was 
 incensed, for it seemed to him altogether un 
 reasonable that Herndon, knowing his father as 
 intimately as he had, could think it possible that 
 he had acted so dishonorably. Had the letter 
 set out as fully as Herndon had explained to 
 himself, how his father had doubtless intended 
 to return to Lisbon without delay, but how, 
 under the existing condition of affairs such a re 
 turn was rendered impossible, it might have had 
 more weight. As it was, it did not shake his 
 belief in the correctness of his own view in the 
 least, and without answering the letter he tossed 
 it into the fire. 
 
 On reaching the office of the Surety Company 
 he was disappointed to find that Judge Durham 
 was in Boston and was not expected to return 
 for several days. Without his order it would be 
 impossible to obtain the package Vinton had re 
 quested him to bring. As there was no train 
 leaving for Boston until evening, he decided to 
 find, if possible, the sailor, Vironi. This he 
 accomplished after a hunt of several hours
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2O7 
 
 through the most villainous part of the city. 
 But Vironi was in such a drunken state that 
 nothing whatever could be learned from him. 
 
 When he reached Boston on the following 
 morning, Ferris found Judge Durham, whom he 
 had long known, and obtained from him the 
 necessary order to enable him to get Vinton's 
 package. After this, he looked up the address 
 of Miss Herrick and discovered that she lived 
 but a short distance from his hotel. The house 
 was on the edge of the business centre of the 
 city, and most of its neighbors had already 
 yielded to the inroads of trade. He had not at 
 tempted to formulate any plan of questioning 
 Miss Herrick, and as he waited her coming in 
 the old fashioned drawing-room, he began to 
 feel not a little embarrassment. But this disap 
 peared as soon as she entered and learned that 
 he was the son of her brother's classmate. She 
 evidently considered herself as of the navy, be 
 cause her father had been a commodore, and 
 regarding Ferris in the same light, she received 
 him most cordially. As delicately as possible, 
 he explained to her that he was endeavoring to 
 obtain information in regard to certain of his 
 father's friends, and she, no doubt thinking that 
 he was engaged upon some historical sketch, 
 was profuse enough in her elaboration of her 
 brother's bravery, his intelligence and other
 
 2O8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 good qualities, real or imagined, that to her 
 mind might interest the public. 
 
 " Was your brother married or engaged to be 
 married at the time of his death ? " Ferris at 
 length asked, as Miss Herrick had failed thus 
 far to enlighten him on this one important point. 
 
 " I scarcely think that sad affair of his can in 
 terest the public, Mr. Ferris," she answered 
 rather coldly. 
 
 " Indeed, I had no thought to make it public, 
 I assure you. It was merely my interest that 
 prompted me to ask," said Ferris, now feeling 
 certain that he was in a way to discover that his 
 conclusion in regard to Herrick was correct. 
 
 Miss Herrick hesitated a moment before an 
 swering. 
 
 " My brother was to have been married on the 
 day on which he was killed. When he returned 
 from Portugal in 1861, my mother and I met 
 him in New York, since it was impossible for 
 him to obtain leave of absence. His fiancee 
 was then travelling in Europe with her parents, 
 but it was arranged that she should be married 
 from our house. When she arrived she found 
 that he had been ordered to the South, and within 
 a week came the news of his death. The poor 
 girl never recovered from the shock, and two 
 months afterwards died here. That is her por 
 trait," and Miss Herrick pointed to a painting
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2OQ 
 
 of a beautiful young woman a perfect type of 
 a delicate blonde. 
 
 For the first time since he left Madge, Ferris 
 was discouraged. He had felt so confident of suc 
 cess after what he had heard from Herndon, that 
 it was with a feeling of heartsickness that he 
 turned from the Herrick homestead and late in 
 the day took the train for New York. 
 
 On the morning after his return he again 
 sought the sailor, Vironi, and finding him com 
 paratively sober, questioned him with particu 
 larity as to the last voyage and wreck of the 
 " Stella; " but beyond the fact that Mrs. Seaton 
 had boarded the ship from a small boat, after 
 they had cleared from Lisbon, and that she was 
 given the captain's stateroom and treated as a 
 "great lady," as Vironi expressed it, nothing 
 was learned from him. After this new disap 
 pointment Ferris scarcely knew what step to take 
 next. That Mrs. Seaton and Margery Thorne 
 were one, he was confident, but that his father 
 should have married and deserted her he could 
 not believe for a moment. 
 
 It was with a heavy heart that he decided to 
 return to Chicago and learn from Vinton what 
 he might recall of her, before attempting to fol 
 low the search further, either in this country or 
 abroad. 
 
 In the afternoon he went to the Surety Com-
 
 2IO OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 pany's office and obtaining the package for Vin- 
 ton, returned to his room at the hotel. Ex 
 hausted by the travel and anxiety he had under 
 gone since leaving the woods, he threw himself 
 upon the lounge, hoping to get some sleep, as 
 his train for Chicago did not start until evening. 
 Vinton's package, which was scarcely larger than 
 a card-case, was tied with a small, faded ribbon. 
 Ferris had put it in the inside pocket of his coat, 
 and when he threw this over the chair, he heard 
 the package drop on the floor. He rose to get 
 it and found that the ribbon had broken and 
 that the small leather case had fallen open upon 
 the floor. As he stooped to pick it up he could 
 not fail to see that the case contained two minia 
 tures on porcelain. One was a portrait of his 
 father and the other a perfect picture of Madge. 
 In a moment it came back to him, how as a little 
 child, Vinton had often shown these to him, 
 though of late years he had not seen them. 
 
 Could it be that Herndon was right and that 
 his father had married Margery Thome ? 
 Goaded almost to despair by this thought he 
 restlessly walked the floor of his room, till, with 
 a sudden determination to end his suspense, he 
 hastened to the telegraph office and sent a mes 
 sage to John Brent, requesting him to have 
 Vinton come at once from Round Lake camp to 
 Burton's cabins.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'T~~*HE day that Ferris left camp was the un- 
 -L happiest Madge had ever known. After 
 leaving Burton she walked back over the trail 
 for some distance, but as she neared the camp 
 the thought of being with others seemed unbear 
 able, and she turned into the woods, wandering 
 aimlessly on and on until the deep shadows 
 warned her that it was growing late. 
 
 "Coward, coward, that I am," she said half 
 aloud, as she turned to retrace her steps, " to 
 whimper and pine while he hopes and works. 
 Oh, Robert, I am not worthy of your love. For 
 get me and be happy, dear." She paused as 
 the pain of the thought possessed her. In help 
 less despair she looked up with her hands 
 clasped across her breast. The glorious coloring 
 of the September sky, the touches of the setting 
 sun upon the tops of the taller trees, caused her 
 to forget the gathering gloom about her, and 
 from the depths of her heart she prayed for 
 courage, for faith and strength. A prayer so fer 
 vent as hers, born as it was of infinite yearning
 
 212 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 for faith and in a heart normally full of courage 
 and strength, could not but bring its own 
 answer, and as it came she said : " Robert, I will 
 wait and hope and pray and love you, always 
 yes, and I will work, too, and perhaps per 
 haps " but so fast did her heart beat with the 
 new-born hope and resolve, that words failed 
 her, though the color of her cheek and the bright 
 ness of her eye told the thought, and she re 
 turned to camp as joyous as she had left it 
 miserable. To one of her temperament the 
 pendulum of emotion swings quickly to extremes. 
 As she passed on to the trail leading to camp 
 she met a woodsman who had been sent in with 
 the mail. Taking it from him she hurried on. 
 Dan'l had just announced dinner, and as the 
 party took their seats she distributed the letters. 
 Mrs. Elting had expected her husband, but was 
 consoled in a measure by a letter that told her 
 his coming would be delayed only a few days. 
 For Helen and Moulton there were several letters, 
 and for Vinton and Whitney an accumulation of 
 daily papers. Moulton glanced hastily at his letters 
 and cramming them into the pocket of his coat, 
 said carelessly, " A choice assortment of bills and 
 club notices." Helen's face brightened as she 
 read the cheerful letter from her mother, and 
 passed it to Whitney. But the color came to 
 her cheek as she opened the next letter, the
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 213 
 
 handwriting of which she recognized as Mr. 
 Blake Kennedy's. Moulton, from his seat across 
 the table, noticed this, and as he could not fail 
 to see the masculine handwriting, it made him 
 decidedly uncomfortable. Nor were his sus 
 picions allayed when Helen, in answer to a 
 question from Whitney, said with some embar 
 rassment, " It is merely a note from Mr. 
 Kennedy." 
 
 "A note, indeed," thought Moulton "there 
 are at least a dozen pages." 
 
 What a little thing may impair a man's appe 
 tite and happiness if he chance to be in love. 
 Moulton, usually the life of the table, with an 
 appetite bordering on the voracious, was now 
 glum and abstracted, although he made spas 
 modic attempts to enter into the general conver 
 sation. 
 
 As they arose from the table, Helen asked if 
 the man who brought the mail would return to 
 the town in the morning. Madge found him in 
 the cook-tent with Dan'l and learned that he 
 was on his way to a logging camp some five 
 miles distant, where he would spend the next 
 day, and return to the town on the day after, 
 stopping on his way for the mail. As Madge 
 told Helen this, she added playfully in a half 
 whisper: "You need not give Mr. Kennedy his 
 answer to-night, Helen." Moulton caught the
 
 214 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 words, and his feelings were expressed by the 
 vicious way in which he bit off the end of his 
 cigar, as he sauntered over to the camp-fire, 
 stood with his back toward it a few moments, 
 and then walked down to the landing. Mrs. 
 Elting and Vinton were soon absorbed in the 
 papers, and Madge, with outspread map by the 
 light of the camp-fire, explained to Whitney the 
 location of a marshy lake several miles away on 
 which good duck-shooting might be had. The 
 river ran very near to it, and she suggested that 
 they all make the trip on the morrow, taking 
 luncheon with them, and returning for a late 
 dinner. Whitney eagerly assented to this, 
 although he would have much preferred to go 
 with Madge alone, for the others knew nothing of 
 duck-shooting ; but, as Madge was sure they 
 would enjoy the ride on the river and a picnic 
 in the woods, he prevailed upon Mrs. Elting, 
 Helen and Vinton to go, and it was agreed that 
 they should breakfast at six. 
 
 As Moulton came up from the landing, he 
 saw Helen writing in the dining tent. Madge 
 told him of their plan, for Whitney had already 
 begun to make his preparations. 
 
 "I think," he said, "that you had better not 
 count me in. I am really no shot, and would 
 only be in the way. Besides, I am not feeling 
 very companionable to-night and shall probably
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 215 
 
 feel less so to-morrow. No, I will remain here 
 and keep camp until you return/' 
 
 " Helen is going, and I am sure she would 
 want you to go," answered Madge; and there 
 was an earnestness in her tone that caused 
 Moulton to hesitate. " Now, say you will go," 
 she added, as Helen came toward him. 
 
 "Yes, I will," he said, as he tossed the end of 
 his cigar into the fire. 
 
 It was arranged that Charley should take 
 Mrs. Elting and Vinton in the largest boat, that 
 Madge and Helen should take one of the canoes, 
 and Moulton and Whitney the other. Charley, 
 with Dan'l to help him, was sent at once to get 
 the boats through the shallow outlet of the lake 
 to the river, in readiness for the early morning 
 start; and while Helen and Madge prepared the 
 luncheon in the cook tent, Whitney helped 
 Moulton to clean his gun and get ready his am 
 munition. 
 
 " You are not going to wear those clothes, 
 Tom?" said Whitney, as he noticed Moulton 
 laying out a heavy dark blue yachting jacket 
 and trousers. 
 
 " Why not ? They are the warmest I have, 
 and the thermometer is forty now. It will be 
 thirty by morning. Do you want me to wear a 
 dress suit ? " 
 
 " The color could not be worse. A duck
 
 2l6 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 would see you ten miles off. You must wear 
 something that will harmonize with the browns 
 and grays of the marsh. These wild-fowl are 
 great sticklers for harmony of colors." 
 
 " It strikes me that for a novice in duck 
 shooting you are affecting great wisdom." 
 
 " I am simply quoting Miss Seaton, and 
 surely she has passed her novitiate." 
 
 " Does this brown sweater suit you better ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is all right, and your brown can 
 vas cap will be much more suitable, if less be 
 coming, than the Tarn O'Shanter you have on." 
 
 "All right. Have you any suggestions as to 
 the color of my foot-wear ? Would you like me 
 to wear brown shoes, also ?" 
 
 " That would not be a bad idea, if you had 
 them, but mackintosh hip-boots would be better, 
 as you may have to wade after dead birds." 
 
 " Well, I have n't them. I will risk wading 
 in my shoes after all the birds I kill." 
 
 Having made all arrangements for an early 
 start in the morning, Whitney replenished the 
 wood in the tent stove, and, with Moulton, went 
 out to the camp-fire. The others were busy 
 with their preparations, and joined them for a few 
 minutes only before saying "good-night." 
 
 Shortly after five in the morning Charley 
 aroused the camp with the noise of his busy axe, 
 and within an hour all were on the trail to the
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 217 
 
 river. There had been a heavy frost during the 
 night, and on the tall grass in the open places it 
 glistened in the light as the sun peered above 
 the tops of the pines. The ride down the river 
 in the crisp autumn air was exhilarating, and 
 Moulton regained much of his wonted good 
 humor. 
 
 For most of the way the river was narrow, 
 and in places the overhanging branches of the 
 trees upon the opposite banks touched above the 
 stream. The growth was mainly pine and hem 
 lock and cedar, with occasional stretches of 
 sumac and alder bushes, and here and there 
 maple and basswood and birch. Such glory of 
 autumn coloring Helen had never seen, or, at 
 least, had never lived in, and that makes all the 
 difference in the world ; and her expressions of 
 delight waked the echoes of the forest as each 
 turn in the winding stream revealed some vista 
 of new beauty. A ride of an hour brought 
 them to the point of the river nearest to the 
 marsh. Mrs. Elting and Vinton decided to go 
 on down stream to the lumber camp six miles 
 below, where they were sure of a hearty welcome 
 and a noon dinner, warm and substantial if not 
 luxurious. 
 
 The marsh to which Madge led the way was 
 a mile or so in length, and many years before 
 had been completely under water, but it was
 
 2l8 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 now only a long, narrow pond, at its widest 
 point not over a few hundred yards across. 
 About the center of this and at its narrowest 
 part a colony of beavers had at one time built a 
 dam, the remains of which still offered firm foot 
 ing from the edges of the marsh. As they came 
 in sight of the marsh Madge disclosed her plan 
 of attack upon the ducks. It was that Whitney 
 should occupy a position on the beaver dam on 
 one side of the lake, and Helen and Moulton 
 should take a like position on the opposite side, 
 while she would push through the pond, in a 
 dug-out that Charley had told her was cached 
 and in good condition. She had brought her 
 paddle from the river, and finding the boat, 
 managed, with Whitney's assistance, to get it 
 into the water. While doing this there was a 
 whirr of wings overhead, and a bunch of mal 
 lards dropped into the pond scarcely out of 
 range. This gave promise of good sport, and 
 as the others hastened to their posts Madge cut 
 an armful of hemlock boughs on which to kneel 
 in the boat. After waiting until she felt sure 
 that Helen and Moulton had reached the dam, 
 she pushed off. She had gone scarcely fifty 
 yards when an old drake rose from the rushes 
 with a warning " quack-quack," and swung in 
 low flight over the point where Helen and 
 Moulton were concealed. Madge was at a loss
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 2l9 
 
 to account for Moulton's not firing, as the shot 
 seemed to her an easy one, and she thought that 
 possibly she had not allowed him time to reach 
 his position; but standing in the canoe, she could 
 see him on the dam with his back toward her, 
 looking after the drake as he joined a flock at 
 the opposite end of the pond. 
 
 " Evidently the first bird was too much of a 
 surprise," thought Madge, as she pushed toward 
 the point of the marsh where the flock had 
 disappeared. So quietly did her boat move 
 that she was scarcely twenty yards distant 
 when, with a terrific splashing and quack 
 ing, the flock took wing. She had not in 
 tended to shoot, but the impulse was irre 
 sistible. Instantly her paddle dropped, and, 
 seizing her gun, she brought down two birds and 
 winged a third. The woods rang with a hun 
 dred echoes, and from different points of the 
 marsh a dozen flocks arose. As she slipped in 
 new shells she heard Moulton's gun twice in 
 rapid succession, but she could see that each 
 time he had shot behind. Then came two quick 
 shots from Whitney, and three birds from a pass 
 ing flock were added to their bag. Again Moul- 
 ton fired, and by great good luck dropped two, 
 and as they fell his yell of triumph woke the 
 echoes of the woods. The same flock passed
 
 22O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 over Madge, and left one of its number as the 
 result of a very long shot. 
 
 As she pushed ahead looking for her crippled 
 bird, she heard a cry for help, and hurrying on, 
 found Moulton nearly waist-deep in mud into 
 which he had plunged in his eagerness to retrieve 
 his birds, while Helen, already over her shoe- 
 tops, was trying vainly to reach him with the 
 dead branch of a tree. On the point opposite, 
 Whitney was swaying to and fro in paroxysms 
 of laughter in which Madge would have been 
 tempted to join had not the tears in Helen's 
 eyes showed how seriously she viewed the situa 
 tion. By resting his weight upon the bow of 
 the canoe, while Madge in the stern held it with 
 her paddle as steady as possible, Moulton suc 
 ceeded after much difficulty in extricating him 
 self and reaching the hard ground of the dam. 
 
 " I really think that you should have a con 
 servator appointed for me, Miss Seaton," he said, 
 looking disgustedly at the slime trickling from 
 his overalls and oozing from his shoe-tops. 
 
 " You shouldn't mind a little thing like this," 
 she answered cheerily. " It is one of the in 
 cidents of duck-shooting. I have been in much 
 sorrier plight. We will build a fire in the woods 
 and you can dry off in a little while. Let us go 
 at once, and by lunch time you will be all right 
 again."
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 221 
 
 As they started for the woods Whitney called 
 out to Moulton to come over and retrieve his 
 birds. 
 
 " Listen to that heartless brute," said Helen, 
 thoroughly indignant at her brother's merriment. 
 " I am ashamed of him." 
 
 " Let Merrick have his laugh," said Moulton, 
 beginning to realize the absurdity of what he 
 had done. " Perhaps we can devise some method 
 of revenge before the day is over." 
 
 While Moulton was building the fire Madge 
 went after the hamper of luncheon ; on her re 
 turn she found Helen with her feet wrapped 
 snugly in Moulton's top coat, her shoes and 
 stockings drying before the fire, over which 
 Moulton hovered. 
 
 " This is a modified Turko-Russian bath, Miss 
 Seaton," he said, as Madge joined them. " From 
 my head to my waist it is hot air and from that 
 down it is steam. Have you any directions to 
 give about luncheon?" 
 
 " Helen will superintend that ; but I warn 
 you that Mr. Whitney and I shall bring very 
 large appetites about one o'clock," Madge said; 
 yet as she walked back to the marsh she ques 
 tioned whether either Moulton or Helen would 
 remember the luncheon at all. 
 
 The point that Madge had selected as their 
 rendezvous was a little way back from the edge
 
 222 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 of the marsh and on the high ground that had 
 originally been the bank of the lake. The fallen 
 trunk of a great hemlock against which Moulton 
 had placed an armful of boughs, made a com 
 fortable back rest and wind-break for Helen, and 
 she watched him with some amusement as he 
 moved around the fire in his effort to dry his 
 nether garments uniformly. 
 
 " I am very sorry to have spoiled the morning 
 for you," Moulton said, as they heard four shots 
 from the marsh in rapid succession. " Would 
 you not like to go to the dam again and watch 
 them shoot?" 
 
 " No, I am very comfortable here, or should 
 be if I were quite sure that you would not catch 
 cold from your wetting." 
 
 " You need have no fear for me. I never 
 take cold, and now I am simply toasted. Your 
 shoes and stockings are dry. You might put 
 them on while I get more wood for the fire." 
 
 When he returned a few minutes later, he 
 found that Helen had moved the boughs nearer 
 the fire and had spread his top coat upon 
 them. 
 
 " I know you must be tired of standing and I 
 have made a place for you to lie near the fire. 
 You will find it very comfortable, and if you 
 wish to take a nap I will promise not to disturb 
 you with my chatter. I have a tablet and pencil
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 223 
 
 in my pocket and can write a letter while you 
 sleep." 
 
 " This is very good of you," Moulton said, as 
 he stretched himself before the fire near her, and 
 then added: " I thought you answered your let 
 ter last night?" 
 
 " I answered one last night; you know I re 
 ceived two." 
 
 "You answered Kennedy's last night?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you wish to write to your mother now 
 and tell her of your engagement." 
 
 " Can you imagine anything more proper 
 and filial?" 
 
 Moulton rose restlessly after a moment's 
 silence, and stood with his back to the fire, in 
 the embers of which Helen was poking with a 
 stick. 
 
 "And this is the end of our long friendship," 
 he said, with a solemnity of tone altogether un 
 usual for him, as he turned toward her. " We 
 have known each other since childhood. I re 
 member how, as a great overgrown boy, I 
 thought it my special province to look after you, 
 for you were such a little wisp of a girl in those 
 days. Have you forgotten when your father 
 told us of his election as president of his railroad 
 and that you would move to Chicago, and how 
 we cried together as we said ' good-bye ' in the
 
 224 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 little park beyond the old school-house? I 
 promised that when I grew to be a man, I would 
 .go west to live and be near you again, and we 
 would have such good times together. Your 
 eyes brightened as you listened to all I said I 
 would be for you and do for you, and you 
 laughed through your tears. That was fifteen 
 years ago. Since then I have seen much of the 
 world. I have had many friends, and the best 
 of them have been women, but none have ever 
 taken the place of the little girl who left me that 
 day with a smile on her lips while I ran over to 
 the barn and cried myself to sleep in the hay. I 
 thought I loved you then, but when we met 
 again years after, the little girl I had known and 
 dreamed of was gone and in her place I found a 
 woman crowned with accomplishments and 
 hedged about with conventionalities." 
 " Yet we were good friends after that ? " 
 "Yes, but your long absence abroad and the 
 many demands of society upon your time when 
 at home left me little chance to renew the old 
 intimacy, even had you wished it, and in time I 
 came to believe that you had cared for me 
 simply in a childlike way, and to think of the 
 old Leamington days only as a beautiful mem 
 ory. When I saw you at the concert the night 
 before we left Chicago, I seemed to see in your 
 face the same expression I had cherished for
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 225 
 
 years, and when you asked me to join your party 
 my heart beat fast with the hope that here in 
 these woods, away from the world, we might be 
 happy as we were then." 
 
 "And have you been disappointed ?" 
 " Indeed, no. I have compassed a life-time 
 of happiness in these last two weeks. You have 
 seemed like the little girl I loved, only infinitely 
 dearer to me, Helen, and I have dreamed and 
 hoped and drifted, never thinking that your 
 heart might have been already given to another. 
 Last evening, when you read the letter from Mr. 
 Kennedy, I remembered that you and he had 
 spent the summer together; and as I saw the 
 smile that lighted your face as you finished read 
 ing, my heart sank within me and I realized that 
 your love was not for me. I stood by the lake 
 for an hour and tried to convince myself that 
 perhaps I was mistaken, but when I returned to 
 the camp and found that you had written, I 
 knew that my dream was over. Do not think 
 me weak to tell you of this now. I want you to 
 know that I love you, Helen ; that I have loved 
 you always, although I have not realized it. I 
 know you are fond of me in a way, regarding 
 me, I think, as a good-natured fellow, light- 
 hearted and companionable and worthy withal of 
 your friendship. But, Helen, believe me, I could 
 not be near you and live without your love. I
 
 226 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 should not have talked to you as I have, perhaps. 
 It can only make you unhappy." 
 
 " But it doesn't. Sit down beside me and I 
 will tell you why." 
 
 As Moulton half sat, half knelt, at her side, 
 he saw the look of perfect happiness in her face 
 and his heart beat fast with a sudden hope. 
 
 " It is because I love you." 
 
 For a moment Moulton seemed dazed, then 
 laying his great hand upon hers and looking her 
 full in the face he asked : 
 
 "Helen, is this true ?" 
 
 " Yes, Tom, it is true. Womanish modesty 
 should prompt me to say that I never realized it 
 until now,but honesty compels me to admit that I 
 have loved you ever since I can remember. I loved 
 you as a child, although I did not recognize the 
 feeling as such. You were my ideal boy, and as 
 you grew to manhood, my ideal man. How my 
 heart thrilled when Merrick used to come home 
 at vacation and tell me of your college life. Your 
 victories in the ball games and boating were 
 mine, and I am sure your occasional failures in 
 your studies, lazy boy, distressed me more than 
 they did you. But what it all meant came to 
 me, Tom, the day of the great boat race. I am 
 sure the color in my cheeks matched the crim 
 son I wore for you, when I saw you as stroke oar 
 get into your boat and heard them say that Tom
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 227 
 
 Moulton would die before he would lose the 
 race. I waved my hand to you as you pulled to 
 the stake boat, and my heart beat fast when you 
 lifted your cap to me in passing. But, oh ! the 
 half hour of suspense after the start when, with 
 Yale a half length ahead, I heard your ' steady, 
 men, steady ' drowned by the shouts of the 
 crowd about me. Then, as the boats came in 
 sight again, with you still behind, I heard a mis 
 erable little fellow say, ' Moulton has flunked,' 
 and I could have killed him. But you were sav 
 ing yourself for the finish " 
 
 "And for you, Helen." 
 
 "Yes, and when you swept toward the stake 
 boat I could see the great muscles of your arms 
 drive your boat through the water, gaining at 
 each stroke, until Yale was left two lengths be 
 hind as you crossed the line and sank forward 
 over your oar, unconscious. My fainting was 
 scarcely noticed in the tumult about us, but 
 when I regained consciousness I knew what it 
 all meant, Tom; and since then I have never 
 questioned my heart." 
 
 An hour later, when Madge and Whitney 
 came for luncheon, carrying their birds between 
 them, they found Helen and Moulton absorbed 
 in their happiness and unmindful of the fact 
 that the fire had gone out and that the promised 
 luncheon was unprepared.
 
 228 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 In the radiance of Helen's face Madge read 
 the happiness that had come to her, and leaning 
 over she kissed her on the forehead, whispering 
 softly, "I am so glad, dearest." But no such 
 tender thought possessed the hungry Whit 
 ney, who looked at them with well affected 
 severity and said: 
 
 "Well, you are an energetic couple. Get 
 up, you lazy fellow, and help me build the fire. 
 Helen, your indolence is a positive disgrace to 
 the family." 
 
 Moulton rose lazily and went with Whitney 
 after the wood. 
 
 " Merrick," he said, as they passed beyond 
 the hearing of the others, " how would you re 
 gard me as a prospective brother-in-law? " 
 
 "That would depend largely upon whose 
 brother-in-law you proposed to be. Think of 
 a man of your confirmed habits offering him 
 self to an innocent young woman. You 
 drink!" 
 
 "That depends on what you offer." 
 
 " And you smoke ! " 
 
 "I draw the line, though, at your cigars." 
 
 " And you swear ! " 
 
 " I will show you in a minute if you don't 
 stop your nonsense. I have proposed to Helen, 
 and she has accepted me. Do you catch the 
 idea now?"
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 22Q 
 
 " Yes, I think so. And having committed 
 the irretrievable folly you ask my forgiveness. 
 Suppose I refuse it?" 
 
 "Do you want to, Merrick?" There was a 
 touch of almost childish frankness and tender 
 ness in the tone as he spoke, that was irresist 
 ible, and Whitney's voice trembled slightly as 
 he answered : 
 
 " It is all right, Tom," and then after a mo 
 ment's pause, he added : " But don't let it inter 
 fere with luncheon again." 
 
 The most expert chef with unlimited viands 
 at his command could not have prepared a 
 meal more delightful to these happy, hungry 
 four young people, than was afforded by the 
 simple contents of their hamper. The afternoon 
 was far gone when Whitney suggested that they 
 spend an hour on the marsh before starting for 
 camp. Scarcely had they reached their posi 
 tions when a pair of mallards were brought 
 down by Whitney, and eight more were added 
 to their bag before a shot from Vinton's gun 
 gave the signal that he and Mrs. Elting were 
 awaiting them at the river. 
 
 The ride up the river to the trail that led to 
 camp meant an hour's hard paddling, and Madge 
 was not a little fatigued when they reached 
 camp and found dinner awaiting them. Per 
 haps it was the reaction from the excitement of
 
 230 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 the day or the contrast of her own unfortunate 
 condition with the happiness of her friend, or 
 both, that brought to her a sense of deepest 
 melancholy. Charley had built an unusually 
 large camp-fire and brought hemlock boughs, 
 which at intervals he piled on, their resinous 
 needles crackling as they sent myriads of stars 
 into the leaves above. Presently he disappeared, 
 and from the opposite side of the lake a pillar 
 of flame rose high above the surrounding trees 
 and lighted the water and the shores. He had 
 fired an old birch tree, the ragged bark of which 
 burned from root to top with a glorious bril 
 liancy. But neither these things nor Moulton's 
 joyous voice in the songs Madge loved the best 
 could dispel her gloom, and she was glad when 
 she could go to her tent and be undisguisedly 
 miserable. 
 
 It was fortunate for her that Burton came on 
 the morrow, and more fortunate that he could 
 tell her, as he had convinced himself he truth 
 fully might, that he believed there was a chance 
 of Ferris succeeding, though how small he 
 thought that chance he had not the heart 
 to say. They spent the greater part of the day 
 together, and when he told her of his plan to 
 join Ferris in the search, she felt almost as if 
 success were assured, so great was her confidence 
 in his ability to accomplish whatever he under-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 23! 
 
 took in earnest. And so the pendulum of emo 
 tion swung to its highest point, nor did it de 
 scend until a week later, when the Indian, Joe, 
 appeared with a note saying that Ferris would 
 be unable to come to the camp and requesting 
 Vinton to meet him on the following day at 
 Burton's cabins.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHEN Ferris arrived at Keating on the 
 morning of the second day after leav 
 ing New York, he stopped at the mine only 
 long enough to get a horse to take him to Bur 
 ton's cabins. It was but little after noon when 
 he crossed the river. The clatter of his horse's 
 hoofs on the bridge brought a loud "halloa" 
 from Burton and Vinton, who were awaiting 
 him. The latter had come from the camp only 
 half an hour before and had spent the time in 
 looking over the place. He and Burton had 
 conceived a remarkable liking for each other in 
 their brief acquaintance, which gave promise of 
 ripening into a close and lasting friendship. 
 
 As Ferris joined them, his face plainly showed 
 the fatigue and anxiety through which he had 
 passed during his absence. Burton understood 
 the cause of this, but Vinton was much alarmed 
 by it and quickly surmised that some sudden 
 and serious malady had seized him. 
 
 " Pray do not worry about my health, Uncle 
 Phil," he said, in hope of allaying Vinton's 
 fears for his health. " Physically I am all right, 
 232
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 233 
 
 although somewhat travel-worn. I have sent 
 for you to talk over a matter that concerns me 
 deeply, but it has nothing to do with my health. 
 I will tell you all after luncheon." 
 
 As soon as the meal was concluded, Burton ex 
 cused himself on the plea of going to catch a 
 mess of bass for supper in a lake some two miles 
 distant, and left his guests alone together. 
 
 As they entered the living room of the 
 cabin, Ferris took from his pocket the package 
 he had brought for Vinton. 
 
 " I must tell you, Uncle Phil," he said as he 
 drew an easy chair for Vinton before the open 
 fire, " that by accident I saw the miniatures, and 
 it was to speak of these that I have asked you to 
 come here." 
 
 Instantly the color came to Vinton's face, and 
 he sat erect. 
 
 " You mean that you wish to speak to me of 
 your father, Robert? " 
 
 " Yes, and of the other." 
 
 A frown passed over Vinton's features but 
 disappeared as quickly, leaving only a look of 
 deepest sadness, as he said: 
 
 " What do you know of her?" 
 
 " But little. It is from you that I hope to 
 learn more." 
 
 " Why should this interest you? " 
 
 " You will understand when you have heard
 
 234 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 what I have to say. Since I left you I have been 
 in Washington. I went there to learn of her 
 whose portrait you have. I had heard that she 
 claimed, shortly before her death, which occurred 
 many years ago, to have married an American 
 naval officer, and I promised to discover, if pos 
 sible, if this was true." 
 
 " Was it on my account that you undertook 
 this detective service?" Vinton asked. But 
 Ferris did not notice the sarcasm in his tone. 
 
 " I was not aware until after I went East that 
 she had ever known you. My information was 
 very meagre, although from it I was able to 
 gather that if she was married at all, it was in all 
 probability to an officer stationed at Lisbon in 
 the summer of 1861. By merest chance I met 
 Commodore Herndon at the hotel soon after 
 my arrival. I told him of the object of my visit, 
 and from him I learned for the first time of the re 
 lations that had existed between you and Margery 
 Thorne." 
 
 At the mention of that name Vinton rose 
 nervously from his chair, and walking across the 
 room, looked out of the window. 
 
 " Go on," he said, almost fiercely, as Ferris 
 paused a moment. 
 
 " I learned also, that my father had known 
 her well and that it was common rumor at the 
 time the ' Macedonian ' sailed for home, that
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 235 
 
 they were engaged to be married. In the spring 
 following, a child was born to Margery Thome." 
 
 Vinton turned suddenly and walked towards 
 Ferris, his face now deadly pale. 
 
 " Herndon believes that child was my father's. 
 Do you think it true? " 
 
 "I know it to be a lie, and I could kill the man 
 that uttered it." He grasped the -mantel shelf 
 for support, as he spoke; so intense was his agi 
 tation, that for a moment it seemed that his 
 strength would fail him. 
 
 " Thank God for those words. I believed it 
 false until the proof seemed conclusive." And 
 rising from his chair Ferris grasped Vinton's 
 hand and held it fast. " You were my father's 
 friend and have taught me to revere his memory. 
 You have stood ever as a father to me, yet my 
 gratitude for all else you have done for me, for 
 all you have been to me, cannot equal that which 
 I feel now. I should have known that he was 
 not the dastard to win a woman and then desert 
 her." 
 
 Vinton winced as Ferris spoke, and sinking 
 into a chair, covered his face with his hands and 
 for a moment was silent. His whole frame 
 trembled with suppressed emotion, and Ferris, 
 attributing it to the sad memories he had awak 
 ened, said gently: 
 
 "I am very sorry, Uncle Phil, that I have dis-
 
 236 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 tressed you so. When you know what it means for 
 me, you will pardon me, I am sure." 
 
 " My God, my God, have I not suffered 
 enough?" 
 
 Again there was a silence, broken by Vinton's 
 asking: 
 
 " Did Herndon tell of the birth of this child?" 
 
 "No, I knew of that before I saw him." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " I have seen her." 
 
 Instantly Vinton was on his feet and all ex 
 citement. 
 
 "You have seen her, Robert? When? 
 Where? Is she alive? " 
 
 "Yes, she is alive. But when and where I 
 have seen her I must not say." 
 
 "Oh! Robert, as you care for me, I beg you 
 tell me where I may find her." 
 
 There were tears in Vinton's eyes as he spoke, 
 and Ferris faltered as he answered: 
 
 "I cannot at least not now." 
 
 " Be kind to me, pity me, I beseech you. 
 Why not now? " 
 
 " Because I love her, and until I have dis 
 covered who her father was, I cannot tell you 
 more." 
 
 " Then tell me now, for believe me, I am the 
 child's father." 
 
 "You ? Oh! my God, can it be true ?" and
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 237 
 
 Ferris turned his back on Vinton and leaning 
 upon the mantel, bowed his head in the agony 
 of despair. 
 
 "Will you tell me now ?" Vinton asked. 
 
 Ferris turned upon him, now with hatred in 
 every feature and word as he spoke. 
 
 "No. I love her with my whole soul. I 
 promised her that I would prove that she was a 
 legitimate child, if the search took a life-time. 
 You have blasted my life. For God's sake, 
 never let me see you again." 
 
 As he spoke, he turned to the table for his 
 hat, but Vinton stood between him and the door. 
 
 " Stay, Robert," he said. " I was married to 
 Margery Thorne." 
 
 " Is it true ? Can you prove it ? " But 
 as he looked into Vinton's face, he added : " No, 
 no, I do not mean that, only tell me again that 
 it is true." 
 
 "As God is my witness, I swear it is true. 
 Here is the proof, Robert." And taking the 
 leather case from his pocket, he drew from be 
 hind the portrait of Margery Thorne, a folded 
 sheet of paper, faded with age, and handed it to 
 Ferris. 
 
 " Can you read it ? " 
 
 "Yes; it is the certificate of your marriage." 
 
 "And the witnesses can you read their 
 names ?"
 
 238 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 "Yes; one is my father and the other, Dan'l 
 Rafferty. Why, that is our Dan'l ? " 
 
 "Yes. Dan'l remembers it well. The chaplain 
 afterwards became a Jesuit priest and is now in 
 the college of Notre Dame." 
 
 Ferris took from his pocket the photograph 
 of Madge that Burton had given him and as he 
 handed it to Vinton said : 
 
 " Compare this with your miniature, Uncle 
 Phil, and tell me if you discover a resemblance." 
 
 "This is Madge. Yes, she is the image of 
 Margery. That is why I asked you to bring me 
 the miniature. It is startling, is it not ? " 
 
 "Not when you consider that they were 
 mother and daughter." 
 
 " What do you mean, Robert ? " 
 
 " That Margery Seaton is your child." 
 
 For a moment Vinton stood as one in a 
 trance, with the pictures before him. Then he 
 broke down utterly and Ferris went out, closing 
 the door softly behind him. 
 
 Outside the cabin he met Burton, who had 
 returned for his shotgun, having run across a 
 covey of partridges on his way to the lake. 
 Noticing the color in his cheeks and the bright 
 ness of his eyes, he said anxiously : 
 
 "I am afraid, Robert, that you have been over 
 taxing your strength. You really should lie down 
 and let me give you something to quiet you."
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 239 
 
 "You need not give my health another 
 thought," Ferris answered, with a tone of exulta 
 tion in his voice. " I am tired I confess, but the 
 cause has gone, thank God. Success is a better 
 medicine than any in your pharmacy." 
 
 Burton looked at him a moment, as if to 
 determine if already his mind had not begun to 
 show the effects of the strain under which he 
 had labored ; but Ferris steadily returned the 
 look, his face aglow with happiness. 
 
 " What does this mean, Robert ? " 
 
 " It means, dear friend, that all you have 
 wished for me has been realized and more. 
 Come with me and I will tell you." 
 
 They walked by a well-worn path to a spring 
 near the river, where, seating themselves on an 
 upturned canoe, Ferris gave Burton an outline 
 of his eastern trip and of his interview with 
 Vinton. 
 
 As they rose to return to the cabin Burton 
 took Ferris's arm in his. 
 
 " I think, Robert," he said, " that you know 
 how dearly I love Madge, how intimate a part of 
 my life she has become. I have felt that some 
 time she would marry, and so in a way go out of 
 my daily life. I had not thought that there 
 would ever be another to take my place, but her 
 happiness and my loss have come more gently to 
 me than I could have conceived possible. When
 
 24O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 I first met Vinton, I was strongly attracted to 
 him. Indeed, I think that no other man has 
 ever won my affection in quite the way he has. 
 There is much in heredity, and doubtless I have 
 found in him many of the traits that have en 
 deared her to me. I do not feel that I shall 
 lose her; I hope I may not." 
 
 There was a touch of pathos in his voice as he 
 finished, which impelled Ferris to say quickly : 
 
 "You need not fear, her love is great enough 
 for us all. It will bring us nearer together." 
 
 As they approached the cabin, Vinton saw 
 them from the window, and came to the door. 
 He had regained his composure and his face was 
 radiant with happiness. 
 
 " My friend," he said, taking both of Burton's 
 hands in his, " can I ever pay the debt of grati 
 tude I owe you?" 
 
 " Pray, do not think of that again. I have 
 had my reward already, and there will still 
 be a place in her heart for me, I am sure." 
 
 "Yes, and in mine always." 
 
 "In the fall of 1860," Vinton continued, 
 after they had entered the cabin, "I was junior 
 lieutenant. I had just finished a three years' 
 cruise on the South Atlantic Squadron and was 
 assigned to the 'Macedonian,' which was ordered 
 to join the Mediterranean Squadron. She was a 
 dilapidated old ship, and when we put in at Lis-
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 24! 
 
 bon it was found necessary to make extensive re 
 pairs, so that the winter was over before they 
 were completed. Soon after our arrival there I 
 met Madge's mother, and loved her from the 
 first. Her father, Edwin Thorne, was an Eng 
 lishman who had been in the British Navy at one 
 time and afterwards in the diplomatic service, 
 from which he was retired. Late in life he mar 
 ried, against her parent's wishes, a Spanish girl 
 much younger than himself, who lived but a 
 few years thereafter, and Margery was the child 
 of his old age. For some reason he had 
 conceived a strong dislike for Americans in 
 general, and for our naval officers in particular; 
 and this feeling was intensified as the threaten- 
 ings of our Civil War grew more distinct and 
 the sympathy of England with the South became 
 manifest. Early in the winter I asked Margery 
 to be my wife. She loved me, but realized the 
 hopelessness of gaining her father's consent to 
 our marriage. By chance he discovered our love, 
 and refused to allow me to visit his house. The 
 only one of our officers whom he seemed to re 
 gard with any degre of favor was Edward Ferris, 
 my dearest friend, and through his connivance 
 we contrived occasionally to meet. 
 
 "Then came the news that war had been de 
 clared and that Sumter had fallen, and close 
 upon it followed the orders for our return home.
 
 242 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 We were to wait, however, for the ' Saratoga ' to 
 join us from Gibraltar. The night after she 
 reached port we celebrated our departure by 
 giving a ball on board our ship. The chaplain 
 of the ' Saratoga,' Harry Munson, had been a 
 school-mate of mine, and his coming inspired me 
 with the idea that Margery and I should be mar 
 ried, if the opportunity should occur. 
 
 " I saw Munson the afternoon before the ball, 
 and he consented to perform the ceremony if it 
 could be done secretly. Margery came to the 
 ball. I begged her to consent to the marriage, 
 and with reluctance she yielded. At that time 
 it was believed that the rebellion would be 
 crushed out in a few months at most, when I 
 could return for my bride. We waited until the 
 supper was announced and all had gone below. 
 Ferris, who was officer of the day, took care that 
 the after-deck was clear, and there we were mar 
 ried, with him and our boatswain Dan'l as wit 
 nesses. 
 
 " On the run from Gibraltar the 'Saratoga' had 
 sprung her shaft, and the repairing of this de 
 layed our departure some days. Fortunately for 
 us, Margery's father had gone to Cintra to 
 spend a few weeks, as he did periodically, with 
 an old surgeon who treated him for the gout, 
 from which he suffered at times severely. In 
 these last days we were together constantly.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 243 
 
 When the ship sailed I little thought that I 
 should never see her again." 
 
 Vinton paused a moment, overcome with 
 emotion; then, passing his hand across his eyes, 
 he continued : 
 
 " When we reached New York I found it im 
 possible to get leave of absence, for we were or 
 dered South at once to the scene of hostilities. 
 Within four months from the time we left Lisbon, 
 our ship had been in as many engagements with 
 the enemy. In the last of these she was totally 
 disabled and abandoned ; with a bad wound 
 on my head, I was left as dead, and was so re 
 ported. For weeks I lingered between life and 
 death, my mind apparently hopelessly gone. 
 
 "When I began to recover, I found myself in a 
 Confederate prison, and nearly five months were 
 spent there before I was exchanged. God only 
 knows the agony I suffered during those months. 
 I wrote to Margery at every opportunity, urging 
 her to bear up bravely until I could come. In 
 all probability, none of my letters reached her, 
 for no answer ever came. When at last I was 
 sent North, wasted with the starvation and ex 
 posure of prison life, I was taken with typhoid 
 fever, and three months passed oefore I was able 
 to travel. Then I got leave of absence and sailed 
 for Lisbon. On arriving there, I found that 
 Edwin Thome had died during the winter. His
 
 244 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 house had been sold, their old man-servant had 
 returned to England, and Margery had disap 
 peared two months before. I spent weeks in 
 Lisbon in the hope of finding some clue to her 
 whereabouts ; in the end I learned only that a 
 woman answering her description had been seen 
 to go out, with an infant, into the harbor at night, 
 in a small boat, which was discovered the day fol 
 lowing empty and adrift. Beyond that my search 
 was fruitless ; but it seemed plain to me that my 
 letters had never reached her, and that, believing 
 herself betrayed and deserted, she had sought 
 this way of ending her sorrow. Time and again 
 since then I have returned to Lisbon, hoping 
 against hope that if by any chance she were alive 
 she might return; yet always with the same re 
 sult only disappointment. 
 
 " When I saw Madge, as I first did the day be 
 fore we came into camp, her resemblance to 
 her mother startled me. It seemed to me in 
 credible that two people not closely related could 
 be so alike in appearance and manners, but when 
 I learned that she had relatives here, and under 
 stood that she was a native of Delaware, I con 
 cluded that my imagination probably had much 
 to do with the resemblance I had found." 
 
 During the time he had been talking, Vinton 
 had walked restlessly back and forth. Now he 
 stopped, and handing the miniature and Madge's
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 245 
 
 photograph to Burton, sank wearily into a chair 
 near him. 
 
 "Are they not much alike, Tom ? " he asked. 
 " Wonderfully so, and the portrait of the 
 mother is perfect, as I remember her face." 
 
 " And did you know her ? Oh ! I am glad 
 of that. Did she ever speak of me ? Did she 
 think me false to her ?" As he spoke, the 
 tears came into his eyes, for with the fatigue of 
 the long walk from camp and the excitement 
 through which he had just passed, the poor man 
 was utterly unnerved. 
 
 Ferris rose and laying his hand tenderly on 
 Vinton's shoulder, said to Burton : 
 
 "Tell Uncle Phil all you have told me. I am 
 going now to the camp. You and he can follow 
 in the morning. I think it better that I should 
 see Madge first." 
 
 " But are you strong enough, Robert, to 
 make the journey to-day? The trail is not an 
 easy one," Burton said anxiously. 
 
 " Yes ; Joe and I will go slowly. It is now 
 four o'clock and we should reach there by eight." 
 
 Crossing to the other cabin, Ferris found Joe 
 and Adam busily engaged peeling potatoes. 
 
 "Joe," he said, "I have good news for Miss 
 Seaton that she ought to know to-night. Can 
 you take me to her?" 
 
 Instantly the Indian was on his feet.
 
 246 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I get you there in three 
 hours." 
 
 " And, Adam, will you put up some luncheon 
 for us?" 
 
 " Yes, sah, right away." And at once the old 
 negro began to busy himself with this, while Joe 
 made a pack of his " A " tent and the blankets that 
 he had brought from the camp in the morning. 
 Ferris watched the negro as he went about his 
 work. 
 
 " You would be sorry to lose Miss Seaton, 
 would you not, Adam ?" he said. 
 
 Adam looked at Ferris as if to make sure of 
 his meaning. 
 
 " You ain't a-going to take her away from us, 
 is you, Mr. Ferris ? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 " She is to be my wife, Adam." 
 
 Adam was silent a moment as he went on 
 with his work. 
 
 " I reckon you'll have to take Mister Thomas 
 and old Adam if you take her, sah. We can't 
 git on without her very well. She's been our 
 chile so many years," he said sadly. 
 
 " Nothing would please me better than that," 
 Ferris answered with a smile. " Will you come 
 with us ? " 
 
 "Yes, sah, Mister Thomas and I'll go where- 
 ever she goes, I reckon, if we're wanted. I'm 
 getting purty old, and I ain't as good a cook
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 247 
 
 as some. But I kin larn, Mr. Ferris, I kin 
 larn." 
 
 " But what about Miss Burton, Adam? Would 
 you leave her ?" Ferris asked. 
 
 " No, sah, you'll have to take her too. She 
 can't git on without Miss Madge, neither." 
 
 " Then it is settled, Adam, that we shall all 
 live together. I am sure that it will please Miss 
 Seaton and her father, as well." 
 
 " But she ain't got no father, Mr. Ferris." 
 
 "Oh, yes, she has, Adam; Captain Vinton is 
 her father." 
 
 The old man dropped the loaf of bread he 
 was carefully slicing. " For the Lawd's sake, is 
 that true ? You ain't foolin' old Adam, is you, 
 sah ? " he asked, his eyes wide with amazement. 
 
 " No; it is true. We discovered it only to 
 day." 
 
 " For the Lawd's sake," the negro repeated, 
 in astonishment, and after a moment's pause he 
 added : " But ef she had to have a father, I 
 reckon there ain't no one what would please 
 Mister Thomas more'n the Captain, for Mister 
 Thomas 's taken a powerful likin' to him sence 
 he 's been here." 
 
 And as Ferris took the luncheon and went to 
 join Joe, he left the old negro still shaking his 
 head and exclaiming at intervals, "for the 
 Lawd's sake."
 
 248 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 The sun was getting well down below the 
 tops of the taller pines when they took the trail 
 for Round Lake camp, the Indian in advance 
 and going almost at a dog trot. Ferris followed 
 him in silence for awhile, but at last was forced 
 to ask him to slacken the pace, for he was al 
 ready beginning to feel the effects of the fatigue 
 and strain through which he had passed. 
 
 The darkness came quickly upon them, for the 
 sun had set in a cloud, and time and again the 
 Indian looked anxiously at the sky, which was be 
 coming overcast. 
 
 " We get storm," he said, as he lighted the 
 lantern he carried in his hand. There was not a 
 breath of wind stirring, and Ferris noticed that 
 the air was warmer than when he rode through 
 the woods in the moining. On they pushed as 
 fast as his strength would permit, the ominous 
 silence of the approaching storm enveloping the 
 woods like a pall. At length the Indian stopped, 
 and throwing down his pack, said : " We stay 
 here till storm go;" and cutting a sapling a few 
 feet above the ground, he bent it down and threw 
 the tent over it to form a shelter. Scarcely had 
 he done this when there was a noise like that of 
 a ponderous railway train in the distance. 
 Louder and more distinct it grew each moment, 
 until the whole forest about them was resonant 
 with the roar of the coming storm. Then the
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 249 
 
 tops of the trees began to bend beneath the 
 mighty sweep of the wind, and great drops of 
 rain drove them under the shelter of the tent. A 
 moment later, the water fell in torrents, and the 
 rush of the wind driving the sheets of rain before 
 it filled the forest with a deafening noise intensi 
 fied at intervals by a crash of some great pine or 
 hemlock, as it yielded to the fury of the elements. 
 The storm passed as quickly as it had come, leav 
 ing only the sound of the falling rain to break 
 the silence of the night. 
 
 Joe spread the luncheon and said : 
 
 " Better eat, Robert. Bad trail 'tween here 
 and camp." 
 
 But Ferris was too exhausted to be hungry. 
 For the first time he realized how severely he 
 had overtaxed his strength. 
 
 " I am very tired, Joe," he said wearily, as he 
 rested his head upon the roll of blankets. " Let 
 me lie here a little while and then I can go on, 
 I am sure." In a moment he was fast asleep. 
 
 Nearly two hours later, when the rain ceased, 
 Joe shook him. Waking with a start, he looked 
 at his watch. 
 
 " How I have slept ! We must hurry if we 
 are to reach camp to-night. It is nine o'clock 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, it take over two hours. Can't go 
 through swamp after rain. Must go round."
 
 25O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 To avoid the swamp it was necessary to make 
 a detour of nearly two miles ; half this distance 
 was through a burnt-over windfall, overgrown 
 with weeds and brier bushes that concealed the 
 charred and rotten trunks lying about in all 
 directions. Over these Ferris stumbled and 
 scrambled, and by the time the trail was reached 
 he could scarcely drag one weary leg after the 
 other. 
 
 "Soon see camp now, Robert," the Indian 
 said, encouragingly, as Ferris leaned wearily 
 against a tree. " Put your arm on my shoulder, 
 I take you all right." 
 
 Ferris did as he was bidden and together 
 they plodded on, until at last he was aroused 
 somewhat from the stupor of exhaustion by hear 
 ing Joe say, " Here we are. You sit by fire and 
 rest." 
 
 It was nearly twelve o'clock, and, except for 
 the occasional sputtering of the smouldering 
 camp fire, the stillness of the night was un 
 broken. 
 
 Wrapping a blanket around him Ferris drew 
 a camp chair close to the fire and, after draining 
 the contents of his pocket flask, was soon asleep. 
 The faithful Indian had no intention, however, 
 of allowing him to spend the night there, for the 
 air was damp and chill ; so quietly placing a 
 few pieces of wood upon the fire and throwing
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 251 
 
 a blanket over his own shoulders, he waited for 
 Ferris to awake. Scarcely had he seated him 
 self when Madge came from her tent and hurried 
 toward him. 
 
 " Is that Mr. Ferris ? Is he ill ?" she asked, 
 anxiously, in a low tone. 
 
 "Yes, that Robert. He sleep. He very 
 tired." 
 
 " Get more wood for the fire, Joe, please. I 
 fear he will be cold." 
 
 While the Indian went for the wood Madge 
 drew over Ferris's knees the blanket, which had 
 slipped down. The movement awoke him. 
 
 " All right, Joe, I can go on now," he said, 
 sleepily. 
 
 " Are you ill, Robert, dear," Madge asked 
 very gently. 
 
 Instantly, at the sound of her voice, his eyes 
 opened wide and for a moment met her anxious 
 look with a dazed expression. 
 
 " Am I dreaming, dearest, or is it really you? " 
 
 " Yes, it is I, Robert. Do not get up. You 
 must be very tired. Oh ! I am so glad that 
 you have come back. I should have died with 
 out you," she said, taking his outstretched hands 
 and kneeling on the blanket very close to his 
 chair. 
 
 "I have brought good news, dearest. You 
 will be very happy. I have found your father."
 
 252 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Found him, Robert ? Do you mean that he 
 is alive ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have seen him. Uncle Phil knows 
 him well and will tell you all when he comes in 
 the morning. Is that not enough for to-night, 
 dearest ?" 
 
 " Enough, indeed, Robert. It means every 
 thing to me. It means our happiness." 
 
 Drawing her towards him, Ferris kissed her 
 tenderly on the forehead. As he did so Joe re 
 turned unnoticed with the wood. 
 
 " Better go to bed, Robert," he said. " You 
 get cold here."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 4 4 T~) EALLY, Tom, your lack of perception 
 _LV in affairs of the heart is truly deplor 
 able," said Helen to Moulton, as she slowly paid 
 out the trolling line from the canoe that he was 
 lazily paddling along the edge of the lily-pads 
 and rushes near the shore on the morning after 
 Ferris's return to the camp. The remark was in 
 way of comment on Moulton's expressions of 
 surprise that Madge had preferred to remain in 
 camp this particular morning rather than join 
 them in trolling for bass around the lake. 
 
 " Having made this general observation, the 
 correctness of which I do not question, would 
 you mind indicating its special application ? 
 What particular stupidity have I been guilty of 
 now ?" replied Moulton good naturedly. 
 
 " Can't you imagine why Miss Seaton would 
 rather stay in camp this morning? To help your 
 imagination I will remind you that last night 
 she was unspeakably miserable; this morning 
 you see her radiantly happy. Incidentally, I 
 may mention that Mr. Ferris came last night and 
 she saw him. Is the adding of two and two to- 
 253
 
 254 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 gether too complex a problem for your mental 
 arithmetic? If not, I think I may now trust 
 you to discover why she preferred remaining in 
 camp to the pleasure of our society." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you think Bob 
 Ferris is in love? " 
 
 "Then, why did he return here at this time? 
 Surely, not to see Captain Vinton, for he was 
 with him yesterday. Nor could it have been for 
 the pleasure of camping with us, for he knew 
 that we are to break camp to-morrow." 
 
 Moulton puffed away at his pipe a moment 
 in silence, as if trying to circumvent the logic of 
 her conclusions. 
 
 " By Jove, Helen, I believe you are right. 
 Bob Ferris in love! Oh! This is too absurd!" 
 and his hearty laugh woke the echoes of the 
 woods. 
 
 " Does it really strike you as so very ridicu 
 lous, that a man should allow himself to get in 
 that unhappy predicament?" 
 
 But Moulton did not notice the coolness of 
 her manner, as he answered: "For Ferris, 
 surely. Of course it is the most natural thing 
 in the world for a fellow like myself who has al 
 ways been confessedly fond of women." 
 
 "Oh, you have been, have you?" she said 
 with a frigidity of tone that was unmistakable. 
 
 " Now, Helen, dear, do not misunderstand
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 255 
 
 me. Do not be annoyed." And Moulton, lay 
 ing down his paddle, leaned towards her, ex 
 tending his hand. At the same instant there 
 was a violent strain on the trolling line. Quickly 
 she began to pull it in but found that the hook 
 had simply fouled in the mass of weeds at the 
 bottom of the lake. 
 
 " See what you have done, careless fellow," 
 she said, with pretended annoyance. " I thought 
 that I had captured at least a muskallonge, and 
 you have allowed my hook to tangle in the weeds." 
 
 " Never mind, dearest, I know a beautiful 
 spot on the shore of the little bay just ahead, 
 where we can disentangle it and any other 
 snarls due to my thoughtlessness." And during 
 the next two hours the canoe rested high upon 
 the beach, the bunch of weeds still clinging to 
 the hook, while these two light-of-hearts wan 
 dered happily through the shadows of the woods. 
 
 Soon after they had left camp, Ferris came 
 from Vinton's tent, in which he had slept. While 
 he was eating his breakfast, Madge joined him 
 from the shore. 
 
 " Why did you not go with Miss Whitney and 
 Moulton? "he asked. "I heard them urging 
 you." 
 
 She hesitated a moment and a touch of color 
 came to her cheek. 
 
 " The reason is such a novel one for me that
 
 256 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 I feel just a trifle embarrassed to give it," she 
 replied with a smile, but her eyes told him quite 
 as plainly as words, what the reason was. 
 
 " It was very good of you. Where are Mrs. 
 Elting and Whitney? " 
 
 " Mrs. Elting started sometime ago for one 
 of the lumber camps with Colonel Elting in his 
 buck-board. He came yesterday. Mr. Whitney 
 is off with Charley for the day, for they took 
 luncheon with them." 
 
 " Might we not walk over the trail and meet 
 Uncle Phil and Dr. Burton? " 
 
 "Yes, if you are not too tired after your hard 
 tramp of yesterday." 
 
 " Indeed, I am thoroughly rested and never 
 felt better nor happier than now." 
 
 " Then we will go. But do you think that they 
 will come by the trail and not by the river? 
 Uncle Tom will know that the trail through the 
 marsh will be bad after last evening's storm." 
 
 " That is true. It had not occurred to me. 
 No doubt they will come by the river, and we 
 can wait for them at the rapids." 
 
 As they walked together over the familiar way, 
 Ferris said: 
 
 " You little thought, Madge dear, when we 
 first came up this path together, less than a 
 month ago, what a burden you were bringing 
 into your life."
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 257 
 
 "No, I did not think of it in quite that way, I 
 confess, Robert," she answered gently. "And 
 yet I felt even then that you had come into my 
 life as no one ever had before. When I was a 
 very little girl, I used to watch the wreckers on 
 the Delaware coast gathering wreckage on the 
 beach after a storm. Whatever they found they 
 claimed as theirs from the fact that they had 
 found it. Perhaps that is why I felt that you 
 were mine from the first." 
 
 "And yet you would have given me up?" 
 " Yes, for your sake my love would have been 
 equal to that sacrifice, even. I wonder if you 
 will ever know what your going away meant tome. 
 You went in hope, but left me in despair. What 
 a mistake is the saying of the Good Book: 
 ' Greater love hath no man than this, that a man 
 lay down his life for his friends.' But that 
 is all past now, Robert, and we must not think 
 of it again. Tell me of him of my father." 
 
 The question came so suddenly that for a 
 moment Ferris was embarrassed for an answer. 
 Madge noticed this, and misunderstanding its 
 meaning, said: "You told me last night that 
 you knew him. Is he such a one as you would 
 be sorry to call ' father? ' ' 
 
 Instantly the answer came irresistibly: 
 " Madge, dear, he is the purest, the best man 
 I have ever known."
 
 258 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Surely you will except dear Uncle Phil? " 
 
 " No, I cannot except him, dearest, because 
 Uncle Phil is your father." As he spoke 
 Ferris took her hands and held them fast. For 
 a moment she trembled with emotion and as she 
 looked earnestly, pleadingly, into his eyes, her 
 own filled with tears. 
 
 " Is God, indeed, so good to me ? " 
 " Yes, darling, to us both. Could happiness 
 be greater than this ?" 
 
 But for answer, Madge leaned her head on his 
 breast, and his strong arms held her tenderly 
 while the tears of joy came fast. 
 
 So slowly did they walk along the river bank, 
 stopping now to admire some especially beauti 
 ful vista of coloring brought unexpectedly to 
 view by a sudden bend of the stream, or again 
 to select rare tints of brown or gold or crimson 
 from the autumn harvest, that it was noon when 
 they reached the rapids. From this point the 
 view upstream was unbroken for several hundred 
 yards, and here they waited the coming of Bur 
 ton and Vinton. 
 
 Ferris briefly told Madge of his journey east, 
 omitting his own mental suffering and its cause. 
 When he mentioned the miniatures and how 
 closely she resembled her mother, her face was 
 radiant. 
 
 " I cannot tell you the happiness it gives me
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 259 
 
 to know that I look like her. He loved her so 
 dearly that I am sure he must love me for her 
 sake, Robert. Day before yesterday, when he 
 went to meet you at Uncle Tom's, he asked me 
 to walk part way with him. We had decided to 
 break camp to-morrow, and it seemed uncertain 
 whether he would return to us or not. As we 
 parted he took both my hands in his. ' Madge ' 
 he said, ' you must let me come to see you some 
 times. Your companionship has been a great 
 happiness to me in the past month. I have come 
 to think of you almost as if you were my own 
 child;' and his voice was scarcely audible, as he 
 added with tears in his eyes, 'you are the image 
 of one whom I have loved always.' And what 
 do you think I did, Robert ? I took his dear 
 face in my hands and kissed him on the forehead." 
 
 While they were talking thus, the moments 
 flying as lovers' moments will, the canoe with 
 Burton and Vinton appeared at the bend of the 
 river above the rapids. Burton was paddling 
 and Vinton sat near the bow. Neither saw Madge 
 and Ferris. 
 
 " Hold on, Tom," said Vinton, cheerily, as 
 they neared the swift water, " I am too valuable 
 a cargo for you to risk in the rapids." 
 
 " Shame on you, Philip," replied Burton, with 
 a laugh, as he turned the boat to the shore. 
 "And you an old sailor, too. However, the
 
 26O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 walk to camp is a short one and will give us a 
 chance to straighten out. We should not have 
 needed it twenty years ago." 
 
 " Let us help these two elderly gentlemen " 
 said Ferris to Madge, loud enough to be heard 
 by them as the canoe touched the shore almost 
 at their feet. 
 
 Madge held the boat while Ferris assisted 
 first Vinton and then Burton, for both were some 
 what stiff after the long ride ; then lifting the 
 bow upon the shore she turned to Vinton. Once 
 again she kissed him this time on the lips. Was 
 it this or the whispered " father " that brought 
 the tears to his eyes, as he held her fast in his 
 arms and bowing his head close to hers, sobbed: 
 " Margery, Margery at last, my love." 
 
 Madge's face was pale as she gave both hands 
 and an affectionate kiss to Burton, while Vinton, 
 by a vigorous use of his handkerchief, endeav 
 ored to demonstrate that he was merely troubled 
 with a sudden influenza. 
 
 " Dear Uncle Tom," she said, " I shall love 
 you only the more for all that has come to me." 
 
 Burton was of sterner stuff than Vinton, but 
 his voice quavered, as he answered : " Yes, child, 
 you must keep a place for me." 
 
 Ferris and he, leaving Madge and Vinton to 
 follow, went on to camp where they found Helen 
 and Moulton at luncheon. As Moulton caught
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 26 1 
 
 sight of Ferris, he rushed to meet him and even 
 the cautionary " remember, Tom," from Helen, 
 could not prevent his exclaiming : " Bob, you 
 old humbug, I congratulate you, I may also say 
 that I sympathize with you for I " 
 
 "Mr. Moulton !" called Helen sharply, with 
 affected severity. 
 
 "All right, Helen, I forgot that I was not to 
 announce our engagement. But pray do it 
 quickly, for I cannot keep the secret any longer. 
 The mental strain is really too great." 
 
 " I can't see that you have left anything for 
 me to announce," replied Helen, coloring, as 
 she gave her hand warmly to Ferris and Burton. 
 " I hope that I may congratulate you, also Mr. 
 Ferris." 
 
 " Indeed you can, Miss Whitney, for I feel 
 that I am a most fortunate fellow." 
 
 During luncheon Helen and Moulton were 
 told of the newly discovered relationship be 
 tween Madge and Vinton. An hour later when 
 Moulton was urging Helen to go for a last ride 
 on the lake, for Burton and Ferris had strolled 
 off together, she put an end to all argument by 
 saying : 
 
 " No, go without me. I must wait for Madge 
 I am simply dying to get my arms about the 
 dear girl's neck. You are a man and of course 
 don't understand such things."
 
 262 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " Well, don't I ? With half an opportunity, 
 Helen dearest, I think I could convince you of 
 the contrary." 
 
 "Tom Moulton, you are simply horrid," she 
 answered, blushing deeply. " Now go, or I shall 
 not speak to you again to-day." 
 
 Some time after, when he returned to camp, 
 he found Madge and Helen sitting together in a 
 hammock with one shawl around them both and 
 with heads very close together. Helen was 
 right. Only a woman could comprehend their 
 feelings. 
 
 Shortly before dinner Colonel and Mrs. Elt- 
 ing drove into camp, and the little woman's de 
 light at the confidences with which Helen and 
 Madge flooded her was simply boundless. The 
 Colonel took matters more philosophically. 
 
 " I have been urging Dora," he said, " for 
 years, to come into the woods. There is no such 
 place for romance, even for an old couple like 
 ourselves. I am sure I have not driven with my 
 arm around her waist in twenty years before ! " 
 
 " But you know, George, the road was very 
 rough," she replied, apologetically. 
 
 " And was that why you kissed me just be 
 fore we reached camp? Come, now, admit 
 that it was the woods ! " 
 
 But for answer she only shook her head in 
 mock severity.
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 263 
 
 The dinner was delayed somewhat, to await 
 the arrival of Whitney, whose triumphant yell 
 from across the lake announced that his day's 
 hunt had not been without success, and a few 
 minutes later he appeared, bearing upon his 
 shoulders (a burden too precious for the Indian 
 to carry) the skin of the long-coveted bear. 
 
 No happier party ever met beneath spreading 
 pine and hemlock than that gathered at this 
 last dinner at Round Lake Camp. Even old 
 Dan'l had caught the spirit of gladness, and 
 gave evidence of the fact by the elaborateness 
 of his menu, while Charley and Joe made such a 
 camp-fire as cast in shadow all their previous 
 efforts in this direction. Around this the early 
 part of the evening was passed in much the 
 same way as most evenings are in camp a 
 sameness that to the lover of camp life is never 
 monotonous. Later, Vinton and Colonel Elting 
 discovered that they both had taken part in the 
 siege of Vicksburg, and their war experiences 
 claimed attention for a while. Then Moulton 
 tuned his banjo and sang some negro melodies 
 in a dialect that Burton assured him would 
 have done credit to old Adam. When he had 
 finished, Madge asked Vinton to sing the old 
 Spanish boat song he had given them once 
 before. 
 
 " I can not tell you how that simple old
 
 264 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 song affects me. It seems like an echo of music 
 that I knew long ago," she said gently to him. 
 
 "I am glad you like it, Madge," he answered. 
 " It was your mother's favorite song." 
 
 As he finished, he saw old Dan'l listening in 
 the shadow beyond the fire. 
 
 "Come here, Dan'l," he called, "I wish to 
 speak to you ! " 
 
 And as Dan'l came nearer, smoothing out his 
 apron, which he had knotted about his waist, he 
 added : " Dan'l, did you ever see any one who 
 looked like Miss Madge?" 
 
 Dan'l hesitated a moment, as if in doubt 
 whether Vinton wished him to speak the truth 
 or not ; and he would have done either with 
 equal readiness for him. 
 
 " Come, speak out, Dan'l, and mind that you 
 tell the truth." 
 
 " Yes, sor ; one lady, sor, if me old eyes 
 serve me." 
 
 "Where was it, Dan'l?" 
 
 " It was in Lisbon harbor, sor, some twenty- 
 six years ago, when I was boatswain of the 
 ' Macedonian. ' ' 
 
 " Well, go on ; tell all you remember about 
 her." 
 
 "Shall I speak of the night of the grand ball, 
 sor?" 
 
 " Yes, everything, Dan'l. You have kept
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 265 
 
 my secret well ; but it shall be a secret no 
 longer." 
 
 "Well, sor, if I must, I must. The young 
 lady, whose speaking image sits beside ye, came 
 on the after-deck with yerself and Liftenant 
 Ferris and the parson from the ' Saratoga; ' and 
 the parson read from his church book and then 
 called ye man and wife. And the young lady 
 kissed ye and the parson and Liftenant Ferris, 
 and gave me a bracelet she wore on her arm, 
 and I have it yet. That's all, sor, saving the 
 week's jugging I got fer leaving me post mid 
 ships without notice." 
 
 " Miss Madge is the lady's daughter, Dan'l, 
 and my child." 
 
 " God help me, Captain ! Ye don 't mean 
 it, sor," and the old fellow forgetting his em 
 barrassment, came very close to Madge. 
 
 "This be the happiest day of me life, Miss," 
 he continued. " I have been hoping since I 
 set eyes on ye that the Captain might win ye for 
 his bride, for it's a poor house we have, Miss, 
 with no women folks at all. What an old fool I 
 be, to be sure. But we'll have ye now anyway, 
 so we will." 
 
 " You will have to ask Mr. Ferris about that, 
 Dan'l. They are engaged to be married," Vin- 
 ton answered, with a smile. 
 
 " O my ! O my ! And ye 're engaged at
 
 266 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 last, Master Robert. Sure, I never suspected ye 
 of it and ye 've not been keeping company at 
 all. Well, Miss," he continued, turning again 
 to Madge, "ye have the foinest father and best 
 husband in the world, so ye have." And Dan'l 
 went back to the cook's tent, and for an hour 
 after was heard humming that sweet old Irish 
 melody, "The Low-back Car." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Breaking camp is always a dismal affair, but 
 in this case Colonel Elting had robbed it of one 
 most dismal feature, by arranging that the tents 
 should be left standing until after the party had 
 gone, when his men from the nearest lumber 
 camp would pack and send them to the town. 
 At Ferris' request Madge and Vinton decided 
 that they would return with him by way of Keat 
 ing, spending one night at Burton's cabins. The 
 Eltings, with Helen and Moulton, drove 
 away soon after breakfast. Whitney, with 
 unsated fondness for sport, had gone ahead 
 with his shot-gun some time before in the 
 hope of finding a few partridges basking 
 in the morning sun along the road. From his 
 seat beside Helen the incorrigible Moulton 
 called to Ferris as they drove off : "I shall see 
 you at the Club day after to-morrow, Bob, and 
 arrange for your services as best man, if I 
 can wait so long ! "
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 267 
 
 " You had better remember the old adage, 
 sir, 'Don't crow until you are out of the 
 woods,' " said Helen. 
 
 " I shall not," he answered, and in a lower 
 tone added: "I have been out of the woods, 
 dear, ever since you told me ' but as she 
 raised her finger warningly, he left the sentence 
 unfinished. And taking Moulton at his word, 
 we may safely leave these happy lovers, in the 
 assurance that the world, which loves a lover, will 
 give them of its best. 
 
 An hour later Vinton and Burton, with the 
 Indians and Dan'l, started for the cabins, leaving 
 Madge and Ferris to follow and meet them at 
 luncheon beyond the swamp. 
 
 The walk to the cabins with Madge was for 
 Ferris a joyous contrast to his last journey 
 over the trail, and when they gathered that 
 evening in Burton's room, he felt that life 
 could offer him no greater happiness than the 
 present. 
 
 The start for Keating was not made until 
 after luncheon the next day, as Joe had gone 
 early in the morning to get horses for Vinton, 
 Madge and Dan'l, and to notify John Brent of 
 their coming. As they neared the town Ferris 
 checked his horse a moment, and, looking back 
 down the long vista of pines through which the 
 old logging road ran, said with a half sigh :
 
 268 OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 " I am sorry, Madge dear, to leave the woods. 
 They have given me happiness beyond any I 
 ever dreamed of." 
 
 " I have loved them always, Robert ; but 
 never so much as now. We will come again, 
 will we not ?" 
 
 "Yes, we will come together. They would 
 never be the same without you, Madge." 
 
 " If Moulton could only have heard that 
 speech," thought Ferris, " how he would have 
 jeered at me." 
 
 At Keating they found that Brent had ar 
 ranged for sleepers on the night express and 
 that Mrs. Brent had prepared a delicious supper 
 for them. 
 
 They had finished this, and the men, with 
 the exception of Brent, who had excused 
 himself on the ground of business, were smoking 
 before the open fire, when there occurred the last 
 incident that need be recorded in these pages. 
 Madge was standing at the window looking 
 down the long road that stretched away to the 
 town, absorbed in watching a great number of 
 lights that, after flickering to and fro like will-o- 
 the wisps, began at last to move in a body 
 toward the mine. " These are the men that come 
 to work in the mine at night," she thought, 
 until the low rumble of voices peculiar to an ap 
 proaching rabble, reached her ear. Ferris also
 
 OUT OF THE WOODS. 269 
 
 heard it, although less distinctly, and asked : 
 "What is that noise, Madge?" 
 
 " A large number of men are coming this 
 way, Robert, with lanterns and torches. Do they 
 always make such noise when they go to work ?" 
 
 Instantly he was at her side. Scarcely five 
 hundred yards from where they stood and mov 
 ing rapidly toward them, was a vast crowd of 
 people with lanterns and torches of pine knots, 
 which they flourished above their heads as they 
 hurried on. 
 
 Turning to Ferris, Madge was struck by his 
 pallor. 
 
 " What does this mean, Robert ? Surely 
 there is nothing wrong ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 "I trust not, dear. But pray go into the 
 back room. I shall know in a few minutes." 
 
 " And leave you ? Never, Robert." 
 
 "And this is their revenge," thought Ferris, 
 although he did not speak it for fear of alarming 
 Madge. Burton and Vinton now joined them 
 and they stood a moment in silence. 
 
 " Have we any weapons, Tom ?" Ferris asked 
 quickly. 
 
 Burton paused an instant and then answered 
 with a smile : 
 
 " You are armed sufficiently for this crowd. 
 You have a good pair of lungs and a reasonably 
 strong voice. That is all they need. Don't you
 
 27O OUT OF THE WOODS. 
 
 see the women and children, Robert, and can't 
 you imagine why they are coming ? " 
 
 In a moment the meaning of it all flashed 
 upon Ferris and he blushed crimson. The crowd 
 now gathered about the broad veranda and the 
 voices were hushed. A little fellow with cap in 
 hand was pushed forward and timidly came up 
 the steps. It was Willie, the mail boy, and he 
 said that the men would like to see Mr. Ferris 
 before he took the train. 
 
 " Go out and give them a speech, Robert; 
 that is what they want," said Burton, pushing 
 Ferris toward the door. 
 
 "But what can I say ?" 
 
 "Oh, anything will please them. You need 
 not be eloquent." 
 
 What he did say (although he never could re 
 member) must have pleased them, for he was 
 constantly interrupted by applause and cries of 
 "Hear, Hear" and "Good" in a dozen different 
 languages. 
 
 As he finished, an old Scotch woman with a 
 shawl about her kindly work-worn face, asked : 
 "Mayn't we see yir lady, sir? We'ill luve her 
 for the maister's sake." 
 
 Ferris turned, and Madge came quickly to 
 his side. 
 
 "And I will love you all, good people, be 
 cause you love him."
 
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