The White Crystals Part 19

"Wa'al," remarked Mr. Kimball, as he came home from Hank Mack's store, one cold night, stamping the snow from his boots in the wood-shed, "wa'al, I hope it's cloudy t'-morrow."

"Why?" asked Roger, who thought the more sun there was in winter the better it must be.

"Why? So's thi' b'ar won't see his shadder."

"What if he does see his shadow?"

"Land a' Goshen, th' boy never hearn tell a' Candlemas Day," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Kimball. "You see," he explained, "there's an ole sayin' 'n' I got it from my granddad, thet goes suthin' like this: Candlemas Day, half yer pork, 'n' half yer hay.' Thet means, 'cordin' t' my way a' thinkin'

thet t'-morrow's 'bout th' middle a' winter, 'n' a keerful farmer'll only hev half his produce eat up. Ye know b'ars go inter holler logs t'

sleep all winter. Come February second, which is Candlemas Day, there's a theory they come out t' see how th' weather is.

"Ef th' sun s.h.i.+nes so's t' throw a shadder on th' ground, it skeers th'

b'ar so, he skedaddles back inter his holler log, 'n' sleeps fer six weeks more, durin' which time we hev winter. But, ef th' sun don't s.h.i.+ne, 'n' thar ain't no shadder, th' b'ar's satisfied. He don't git skeered, 'n' only goes back in his log fer four weeks more sleep, which means an early spring. So ye see why I don't want th' sun t' s.h.i.+ne t'-morrow."

"I see," laughed Roger, as Mr. Kimball finished his explanation. "Will you have half your pork and half your hay left by to-morrow?"

"I calalate so," responded Mr. Kimball, "I calalate so."

The sun didn't s.h.i.+ne next day, and Mr. Kimball was happy. For the following few days it snowed, and Roger began to feel that there would be several months more of winter, instead of the proverbial four weeks, but his uncle didn't seem to worry.

Whether it was due to the bear's action or not, there was an early spring that year. The bluebirds came about the middle of March, and farmers began their plowing several weeks ahead of the usual time. Every one was glad that winter was over, though Roger and the other boys in Cardiff had enjoyed it very much, and many of them wished for a second contest with the bobs down Lafayette hill. Gradually the days got warmer, and the damp earth gave out a pleasant odor that promised a ready sprouting of the seeds.

One pleasant evening toward the end of April, when the sun peeped out, just before setting, after a smart little shower, Roger went to the post-office, to wait for the stage to come in with the mail. Adrian was not with him, for he had some ch.o.r.es to do, and of late Roger had fallen into the habit of going to the village alone occasionally.

He sat on the steps of Hank Mack's general store, which also contained the post-office, talking with several boys, whose acquaintance he had made since he arrived in Cardiff.

"There she comes," cried Frank Dobbs, as he pointed to a moving object half a mile away. Roger looked and saw the stage, which advanced rapidly and in a few minutes drew up at the steps with a flourish. Porter Amidown jumped off, lugging the heavy mail bag into the little room part.i.tioned off from the main store, where the letters and papers would be sorted and put in the different boxes.

Most of the boys followed Porter inside, but Roger lingered on the steps to see if the stage brought any pa.s.sengers. He saw Enberry Took alight from the driver's high seat, and the boy nodded to him. Then from inside the vehicle two men got out. One was an elderly gentleman, bearing a valise of which he seemed to take great care. His companion was younger, and, when he had stepped out he lifted after him a long, three-legged instrument, of the kind Roger had often seen surveyors use. The younger man also carried a small satchel, which he handled as if it contained something of value.

"Where's the hotel; that is, Crownheart's hotel?" asked the younger man of Roger, who just then was the only person at hand.

"Right over there, sir," pointing to the single inn of which the village boasted, and which stood a little way up the hill, beyond the post-office.

"Thanks, my boy," said the inquirer. Then to his companion, "This way, Mr. Dudley. It doesn't look very promising, to be sure, but then, you know, you never can tell by the looks of a toad how far it can jump. I guess we can stand it for a night or two, until we find out whether there is any truth in this report or not," and the two men started toward the Pine Tree Inn, as Abe Crownheart called his hotel.

Roger stood looking at the strangers for a minute, wondering what their object might be in coming to Cardiff with their instrument and the valises, and he puzzled over the younger man's last words. Then dismissing the matter from his mind, he went in for the mail. When he found a letter for him from home, he was so delighted that he forgot all about the two new arrivals.

Abe Crownheart was considerably surprised when Mr. Dudley and Mr.

Ranquist, as the men introduced themselves, appeared at his hotel and asked for accommodations.

"I suppose we can have a bed," suggested Mr. Dudley.

"And something to eat, don't forget that," put in Mr. Ranquist. "That twelve-mile stage journey has given me a tremendous appet.i.te."

"Wa'al," began Mr. Crownheart, slowly, as if trying to think of something to say,--"wa'al, t' be honest 'ith ye, we don't hev much call fer lodgins fer man 'n' beast here. Cou'se I kin guv ye suthin' t' eat, but th' bed--um--d' ye mind both sleepin' in th' same room?"

"We would prefer it, if there are separate beds," said Mr. Dudley.

"I guess Mrs. Crownheart kin fix ye up then. Ye see we ain't very strong on sleepin' quarters, 'ceptin' fer our own family. Last time we hed boarders were quite a number a' years ago, in fact when th' Cardiff giant were first diskivered. I s'pose ye hearn tell a' thet," and he paused for an answer.

Mr. Dudley nodded.

"Yep," went on Abe, "th' figger were diskivered right acrost th' valley here, 'n' I boarded some a' th' men what were exhibitin' it. I recollect how--"

"I dare say," broke in Mr. Dudley, shortly, "I have heard considerable about that giant fraud, and some future day I will be glad to discuss the various features of it with you, but now, my dear Mr. Crowhead--"

"Crownheart, sir, that's my name,--Crownheart, not Crowhead," said Abe, a little nettled. "It's right on the sign."

"Oh, yes, to be sure, Crownheart, I beg your pardon, exceedingly stupid of me. No offence, I a.s.sure you, my eyesight is not as good as it once was."

"Least said soonest mended," answered Mr. Crownheart, smiling good-naturedly. "Thet giant--"

"I was about to suggest," broke in Mr. Dudley once more, "that if it was all the same to you, Mr. Crownheart, Mr. Ranquist and I would go to our room, and get ready for supper, which at the present time is something I would rather discuss than any number of stone giants."

"If you'll kindly allow us to register, we'll go upstairs, I think,"

said Mr. Ranquist.

"Wa'al, 's I were sayin'," went on Mr. Crownheart, apparently not heeding the suggestions, "we ain't been called on t' lodge anybody sence th' giant were dug up. Howsomever, I guess I kin accommodate ye.

Supper's a leetle easier t' figger out than th' beddin' question. A meal is suthin' we kin ra.s.sal 'ith t' some advantage."

"Shall we register?" asked Mr. Dudley, getting a little impatient. "We don't know how long we may stay. Probably a week."

"Wa'al, we ain't in th' habit a' havin' folks register," said the inn-keeper. "To be honest 'ith ye, I don't know's we got any convenience fer it. Uster be a book 'round here sommers, but I swan I don't know what's become of it. Prob'ly th' boys hev used it t' keep th' score a'

their cribbage games in. Here, scribble yer names down on thet, 'n' ef I come acrost th' book some day, I'll fill 'em in. 'T ain't no ways particular, anyhow," and he shoved over a bit of rough brown wrapping-paper, on which his guests wrote their names, adding after them, "New York City."

"From N' York, eh?" said Mr. Crownheart, looking at what the two men had put down. "Wa'al, we've got another N' Yorker here."

"You don't say so," began Mr. Dudley, eagerly, "who is he, an engin--"

and he stopped suddenly, as his companion nudged him warningly.

"Why, he's Bert Kimball's nephew," said Mr. Crownheart. "Mebby ye seen th' lad. He were 'ith a lot a' others on th' steps a' th' post-office, waitin' fer th' stage t' come in."

"Oh, yes, that must have been the boy who showed us your hotel," said Mr. Ranquist, quickly, and Mr. Dudley appeared much relieved.

"He's up here fer his health," went on Abe. "Cardiff's healthy 'nuff fer anybody. Be you two out here fer thet, or be ye surveyin' fer a railroad?" and the inn-keeper looked significantly at the instrument Mr.

Ranquist had.

"Well, we heard this village was a healthy place," put in Mr. Dudley, the older man, "and so we thought we'd come and see for ourselves. We might do a little surveying also, but whether for a railroad or not isn't for us to say. Suppose you show us to our room now."

"All right," answered Mr. Crownheart, a little miffed that his guests had not declared their business in response to his gentle hint. "Jest come along. 'T ain't fixed up yet, but I'll hev it 'tended t' right away," and he led the men to the upper floor.

At the supper table that evening Roger recalled the arrival of the two strangers in the stage, and remarked casually to his uncle that Mr.

Crownheart had some one at his hotel at last.

"I saw them come in and showed them where to go," said Roger, detailing the circ.u.mstances.

"I wonder what they want?" remarked Mr. Kimball, in a musing tone.

"Don't seem 's ef any railroad 'd run out here, yet ye say they hed a surveyor's three-legged contraption with 'em, Roger. Wa'al, I don't know's it concerns me any, 'less they want t' buy some a' my land, so's I could git money t' meet thet ole mortgage 'ith. I've got a hard scrabble ahead a' me," and the farmer's face took on a worried look, just as on the night when he received the letter containing the bad news about the loss of his savings.