Phil Bradley's Mountain Boys Part 19

"Don't mind me--I'm all right--you're doing famously--I'll never, never forget it, either!" he said, between breaths.

Phil took one end, that nearer the patient's feet, while the other boys managed the second pair of handles between them. The stretcher had been made purposely narrow at the foot, so that one bearer could handle it.

"If you get tired, sing out, Phil, and we'll change all around," X-Ray remarked.

It was not hard work after all. The man happened to be of medium weight, and not unusually tall, so with only two short resting spells they carried their burden all the way to the sh.o.r.e of the lake.

How eagerly he leaned over one side of the stretcher, and strove to catch a first glimpse of his child, over whose fate he had been almost losing his mind while lying there, wounded so grievously in the pine woods.

Lub heard them coming. He stared almost stupidly at first, hardly understanding what it was they were carrying. Perhaps Lub even thought it might be that pugnacious half-grown bear cub, which had attacked Phil in the forest and suffered in consequence.

He quickly understood differently, however. There was a flutter near him, a swift patter of childish feet flying over the ground, a gasping cry, and then little Mazie was clasped in the eager arms of the man on the litter. Regardless of the pain his exertions were causing him the father pressed his darling to his heart, while a look of supreme joy came upon his white face.

Then Phil had to bend over and unwind the arms of Mazie from the neck of "daddy," for he suddenly discovered that what with his emotions and the agony of his broken limb the man had fainted dead away.

CHAPTER XIV

THE PUZZLE OF IT ALL

"What d'ye make out of it all, Phil?"

When Ethan asked this question two days had elapsed since they brought the wounded man to the cabin. Much had happened during this time. In the first place Phil had proven himself a splendid amateur surgeon, for he had set the broken bones, and attended to securing splices so that they would be kept in proper position while the mending process continued.

Of course this was somewhat old-fas.h.i.+oned, because a doctor would have set the limb in a plaster cast; but Phil's way promised to answer for all practical purposes.

The man had improved remarkably. He was even cheerful, though at times Phil had seen him shake his head, and could hear him sigh. This was always while he was watching Mazie; and it did not require much to tell the boy that whatever was upon the man's troubled conscience concerned his child.

"It's pretty hard to say, Ethan," he told the other; "I can't make up my mind that's he's any sort of a scamp. His actions tell us that, you know."

"And it's hard for me to believe that any man who loves a child as he does that one of his, can be a bad man," Ethan declared, emphatically.

"Yet you saw how he turned red in the face when I handed him the telegram, and explained how we found it caught under the bow seat of his birch-bark canoe," continued Phil, looking troubled.

"What was it he mumbled at the time; I didn't quite get it?" Ethan asked.

"He admitted," the other explained, "that the message had come to him.

He also said that was not his real name, but one a.s.sumed for a purpose, of which he was now heartily ashamed."

"That sounds queer, don't you think, Phil?"

"Why, no, I can't say that I do," Ethan was told. "Any of us might do something on the spur of the moment that we found reason to feel sorry for afterwards. Only the other day I bitterly repented of insulting that n.o.ble old bull moose by daring to snap my camera at him point-blank, didn't I? He made it pretty warm for me, I tell you."

"But this mysterious man must have done something dreadful, to have him say he was so repentant!" persisted Ethan.

"You're only jumping at conclusions," he was told, bluntly. "I heard him say at the time he was lying there in the pine woods and suffering, that he realized he had done somebody a great wrong, and that if he lived he meant to right it. Now, according to my notion, that was a fine thing for him to say."

"Mebbe so," remarked Ethan. "I've heard my father say that the best men are those who've been through the fire, done some wrong, and repented, so that they think they must spend the rest of their lives making good.

And between us I kind of fancy Mazie's daddy. He seems to be a pretty nice man."

"Mazie evidently thinks there isn't another like him in the whole world," Phil told him; "look at her now as she sits there holding his hand. Why, Ethan, believe me, I can see what looks mighty like a tear running down his cheek. Yes, there, he wiped it away, and shook his head. That man's made up his mind to some big sacrifice, you mark my words."

"Then it must be in connection with Mazie," added Ethan, quickly; "because the sun rises and sets with her, in his opinion."

"I wonder now," began Phil, with lines on his forehead, as though a sudden idea had flashed into his mind that he hardly knew how to handle.

"What are you thinking about?" inquired Ethan, who knew the signs.

"But then there's no doubt he's her father, so that could hardly be,"

Phil went on to say, as though crus.h.i.+ng the suspicion that had arisen.

"Well, what about it, Phil?"

"Oh! I just happened to wonder if he could have stolen the child from some one, and had now made up his mind that it was wicked, and she must be returned. But then, how could a father be tempted to steal his own child? I reckon that must have been a silly notion. Let's forget it."

"Like as not we'll never know," Ethan observed, a little provoked, it seemed, on account of not being able to solve the mystery that surrounded Mazie and her "daddy;" for Ethan above all things hated to give a puzzle up as beyond his power.

"Wait and see," the other advised him. "As it is now, he feels under some obligations to the lot of us, and may think we deserve to hear his story before we get him down to civilization again."

"Some obligation?" repeated Ethan. "Well, it's my honest opinion he owes you his life! If you hadn't found him when you did, he'd be dead right now. And then about that job of setting the bones in his leg, you did yourself proud there. It'd be a queer thing, and ungrateful in the bargain, if he said good-by, and never once opened up to explain things."

"It isn't going to bother me a bit," Phil told him.

"Now, is that a hint that I'm foolish to keep it on my mind?" asked Ethan.

"If the shoe fits, put it on," his chum told him. "But one thing sure, he'll never be able to walk on that leg by the time we expect to start home."

"Which I take it means we'll either have to carry him all the way down to the village on that stretcher, if it takes two days; or else one of us go after a team."

"Without any road up here," Phil explained, "it would be a hard job to get horses to the lake. And then the going would be so tough he'd suffer terribly. So as near as I can see it looks as if we'd have to work that stretcher again."

"Huh! I like that!" grunted Ethan, though he must have meant it in sarcasm, for his tone showed anything but enthusiasm. "We all congratulated ourselves on the way up here on the fact that we'd have it easy going out of the woods, because all that canned stuff and other grub would be devoured. And now by jinks! if we don't have to lug a _man_ out. Whee!"

"But there's no other way, Ethan; and you'd be the last fellow to vote to leave him behind, if I know you," ventured Phil.

"Sure, I would, and don't you mind how I grumble every little while, Phil. My grandfather on my mother's side was a whaler, and I guess now I must have inherited his sailor way of growling. I try to cure myself of the habit, but she will break out once in a while. It's harmless, you know; it comes from the mouth but not from the heart."

Phil laughed softly.

"I haven't chummed with you as long as this not to know you like a book, old fellow," he said, affectionately, as he laid a hand on the other's shoulder. "We've had some pretty good times, together with X-Ray Tyson and jolly old Lub; and we hope to enjoy a lot more. Wait till we get down there on Currituck Sound this fall, when the ducks are arriving in flocks. You know I've got the finest little shooting-box located there you ever heard tell of. And, say, perhaps we won't have the grandest time going."

"I hope nothing will keep us from going along with you, that's all,"

said Ethan, drawing a long breath; for gunning was his one particular hobby, and the prospect of a week or two on those famous ducking-grounds appealed irresistibly to his hunter's heart.

"This has been the hottest day we've struck since we came up here," said X-Ray Tyson just then, as he came sauntering up, wiping his forehead with his big red bandanna.