Lost Farm Camp Part 7

David was awakened by the sound of chopping. He arose and dressed sleepily. After a brisk ablution at the river's edge he came up the hill, where he found Avery making firewood.

"Mornin'. Skeeters bother you some?"

"Guess I was too sleepy to notice them," replied David.

He watched the old man swing the axe, admiring his robust vigor. Then he stooped and gathered an armful of wood. As he lugged it to the kitchen, Avery muttered, "He's a-goin' to take holt. I have noticed folks as is a-goin' to take holt don't wait to ask how to commence."

"Where's Swickey?" said David, as he came for more wood.

"Up to the spring yonder."

David was about to speak, but thought better of it. When he had filled the wood-box he started for the spring.

"He's a-goin' to spile thet gal, sure as eggs," said the old man, pausing to watch David.

But he whistled cheerfully as he moved toward the cabin. Presently the rattling of pans and a thin shaft of blue smoke from the chimney, a sizzling and spluttering and finally an appetizing odor, announced the preparation of breakfast.

"If they don't come purty quick," said Avery, as he came to the doorway and looked toward the spring path, "they'll be nothin' left but the smell and what me and Beelzebub can't eat."

As he turned to go in, David and Swickey appeared, both laughing. He was carrying both water-pails and she was skipping ahead of him.

"Pop, we seen some fresh b'ar tracks nigh the spring."

"You did, hey?"

"Yip. Big uns. We follered 'em for a spell, goin' back into the swamp."

"Huh! Was you calc'latin' to bring him back alive, mebby?"

Swickey disdained to answer. Her prestige as a bear hunter was not to be discounted with such levity.

After breakfast Avery tilted his chair against the wall and smoked.

David laughingly offered to help Swickey with the dishes. He rolled up his sleeves, and went at it, much to her secret amus.e.m.e.nt and proud satisfaction. Evidently "city-folks" were not all of them "stuck-up donothin's," as Mrs. Cameron had once given her to understand, even, thought Swickey, if they didn't know how to drain the rinsing-water off.

"When you get to the Knoll," said Avery, addressing David, "Jim Cameron will hitch up and take you to Tramworth. Like as not he'll ask you questions so long's he's got any breath left to ask 'em. Folks calls him 'Curious Jim,' and he do be as curious as a old hen tryin' to see into a jug. But you jest say you're outfittin' fur me. That'll make him hoppin'

to find out what's a-doin' up here. I be partic'lar set on havin' Jim come up here with the team. I got 'bout fifty axe-helves fur him. He's been goin' to tote 'em to Tramworth and sell 'em fur me sence spring. If he thinks he kin find out suthin' by comin' back to-night he'll make it in one trip and not onhitch at the Knoll and fetch you up in the mornin'. If he did thet he'd charge us fur stablin' his own team in his own stable, and likewise fur your grub and his'n. It's Jim's reg'lar way of doin' business. Now I figure them axe-handles will jest about cover the cost of the trip if he makes her in one haul, and from what I know of Jim, he'll snake you back lively, wonderin' what Hoss Avery's up to this time."

"I'll hold him off," said David, secretly amused at his new partner's shrewdness.

David departed shortly afterward, striking briskly down the shady morning trail toward the Knoll, some ten miles below. It was noon when he reached Cameron's camp, a collection of weathered buildings that had been apparently erected at haphazard on the hillside.

Cameron was openly surprised to see him.

"Thought you went into Nine-Fifteen with Harrigan's bunch?"

"No! I was headed that way, but Harrigan and I had a misunderstanding."

Curious Jim was immediately interested.

"Goin' back-goin' to quit?"

"I have quit the Great Western. I'm going to Tramworth to get a few things." He delivered Avery's message, adding that the old man seemed particularly anxious to have the proposed purchases that night. "There's some of the stuff he declares he must have to-night," said David, "although I don't just understand why."

"Short of grub?" asked Jim.

"By Jove, that may be it! He did tell me to get a keg of mola.s.ses."

Cameron sniffed as he departed to harness the team. "Mola.s.ses! Huh!

They's somethin' deeper than mola.s.ses in Hoss Avery's mind and that city feller he's in it. So Hoss thinks he can fool Jim Cameron. Well, I guess not! Sendin' me a message like that."

He worked himself into a state of curiosity that resulted in a determination to solve the imaginary riddle, even if its solution entailed spending the night at Lost Farm.

"You ain't had no dinner, have you?" he asked as he reappeared.

"No, I haven't," replied David. "But I can wait till we get to town."

"Mebby you kin, but you ain't a-goin' to. You come in and feed up. My missus is to Tramworth, but I'll fix up somethin'."

After dinner, as they jolted over the "tote-road" in the groaning wagon, Cameron asked David if he intended to stay in for the winter.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"Sort of lookin' around-goin' to buy up a piece of timber, hey?"

"No. Avery offered me a job and I took it."

"Huh!" Curious Jim carefully flicked a fly from the horse's back.

"You're from Boston?"

"Yes."

Curious Jim was silent for some time. Suddenly he turned as though about to offer an original suggestion.

"Railroads is funny things, ain't they?"

"Sometimes they are."

Jim was a bit discouraged. The new man didn't seem to be much of a talker.

"Hoss Avery's a mighty pecooliar man," he ventured.

"Is he?" David's tone conveyed innocent surprise.

"Not sayin' he ain't straight enough-but he's queer, mighty queer."

Ross offered no comment. Tediously the big horses plodded along the uneven road. The jolting of the wagon was accentuated as they crossed a corduroyed swamp.