Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the Great North Woods Part 36

A real Christmas tree was revealed as Emma Dean draped back the flag, a tree decorated with lights and spangles, its branches bending low under the weight of gifts. A beautiful repeating rifle for w.i.l.l.y Horse brought a grunt from the Red Man, but nothing more. From the base of the tree Emma then picked up a bag, opened it and advanced towards the table.

"A little Christmas gift from Mr. Gray and Mr. Wingate," she said, depositing a ten-dollar gold piece before each lumberjack. Their amazement left them speechless. Some quickly slipped their gifts into their pockets, others merely sat and gazed at the s.h.i.+ning pieces of metal for a moment before picking them up.

"Fellows, this is not the bonus we promised you," said Tom. "This is a Christmas present, just a little gift of appreciation on our part. There are socks and boots and other things on the tree for you, and when we have gone you will divide the stuff equally between you. Spike, what's the matter?" he demanded.

Spike had not touched his gold piece, but sat looking at it, drawing in deep labored breaths.

"It's real, better grab while the grabbing is good," urged Hippy.

Spike shook his head and shoved both hands under the table.

The Overland Riders saw instantly that the man was agitated.

"If you don't wish to accept our gift, you need not do so, Spike," said Tom. "We shan't lay it up against you if--"

"It ain't that!" exploded the lumberjack.

"Then what is it, old man?" questioned Hippy.

Spike, rising awkwardly, swallowed hard several times and essayed to speak.

"Talk, if you feel like it. It will do you good," urged Tom kindly.

"It's 'cause I ain't fit ter touch it, that's why," blurted Spike. "Yer wants me t' talk. I'll talk. I ain't fit 'cause I ain't fit, that's all.

I'm a thief, and I'm a skallerwag, and I served a term in Joliet prison.

I ain't never had nuthin' but kicks and cuffs and dodgin' perlice afore I got inter this outfit. First off, I thought it was soft here--that ye folks was easy, but somehow it warn't. There was somethin' else in the kind o' treatment yer give me that I couldn't git through my haid."

The hair of Spike's head was now a bristling flame of red.

"You're excited. Hook your canthook on the other side and stop the log from rolling before it mashes you flat," advised Hippy.

"I got ter talk now, and then I'll quit and git out fer good. I took money fer ter do ye an inj'ry. I took it from that houn' Ainsworth. I was to tell him 'bout things that was goin' on here and--"

A low, rumbling, menacing growl, at first coming, it seemed, from the very boots of the lumberjacks, startled the Overland Riders. The growl suddenly burst into an angry roar. Acting upon a common impulse, every jack in the room sprang to his feet and made a savage rush for the red-headed Spike.

"Sit down, you rough-necks!" bellowed Hippy Wingate. "This is Christmas.

Sit down unless you want me to give you a clip on the jaw!"

The jacks hesitated, drew back, then slouched to their seats, scowling threateningly.

"It'd serve me right if ye fellers beat me up," resumed Spike. "I'm no good. I never was and I'm goin' ter quit onless ye fire me afore I've got through speakin', but I wants ye folks t' know that I throwed that dirty money away, I did. It burned me like no money I ever filched did; it burned me inside and out and I slung it inter the river. I meant ter do ye a measly trick, ye folks, and I did, but I wants ye ter know partic'lar that Chet Ainsworth and that gang of his'n didn't git no information outer me. That's more'n I ever done for anybody afore. Ye've treated me white, ye have, Boss," he said, looking at Tom, "and I've--I've--" Spike gulped and swallowed hard. "I've opined ter do ye dirt."

Spike struggled for more words, and then, to the amazement of his fellows, sank into his seat with tears rolling down his cheeks.

A jack laughed. Hippy fixed him with a stern look. Tom Gray rose gravely.

"Don't laugh, fellows," he admonished. "You have seen one of your own bare his soul, if you can understand what that means. It takes a brave man to do that, boys, a man of wonderful courage. I wonder how many of you would have the courage to do the same. I'll have more to say on the subject of Spike in a moment. First, I want to thank you for your loyalty to us. We could not have won out if you hadn't been loyal. We are going to make money, as I have told you before, and you boys who have helped to make it are going to get your share."

"Give 'em a little rough stuff. They'll understand that better than they do this soul business," suggested Hippy, and the jacks grinned.

"As for Spike, he forgot to carry out his threat to resign--" resumed Tom.

"I quit, and I--" interrupted Spike, flus.h.i.+ng hotly.

"Sit down!" commanded Hippy, forcing him back into his seat, from which Spike had started to rise.

"Mr. Wingate and I have had several talks about affairs here," resumed Tom. "Among other things, we have decided that we have need of a foreman, a foreman who can get out the work with the new men--you fellows do not need a foreman--and carry out our orders in other directions. Before coming here for this little party, we had already decided on a man for the job of foreman, and I, for one, am glad we picked the man we did, but I want you boys to approve of our appointment. What you say _goes_. Stand up!" commanded Tom Gray sternly, fixing his gaze on the red-headed jack, who, from sheer force of habit, obeyed that tone instantly.

"There's the man I've picked," announced Tom, pointing to Spike.

A dead silence greeted the announcement, a silence broken only by the heavy breathing of the lumberjacks, and the shrill voice of Joe Shafto back in the cook-house abusing w.i.l.l.y Horse.

"What do you say, fellows?" urged Tom quietly.

Something seeped slowly into the brain of those rough and ready two-fisted lumbermen. To advance a confessed crook to foreman, a man who had bargained to do a traitorous thing to his Big Boss--it was big, it was unheard of in their rough lives. Even the girls of the Overland party, not one of whom had known of Tom's and Hippy's purpose, felt a thrill, but no one spoke.

"Well, fellows?" urged Tom gently.

"_Yes!_" The word was uttered in a roar, a mighty roar that was heard in the cook-house and by the lumberjacks at their Christmas dinner in the old bunk-house.

Nora Wingate, carried away by her emotions, sprang to her feet and threw wide her arms.

"Boys! Boys!" she cried almost hysterically.

"You're rough, but you're men--loyal, splendid fellows, and I love you, every one of you!"

Spike, with burning face, bolted for the door.

"Come back here!" bellowed Hippy Wingate. "You've forgotten something,"

pointing to the gold-piece that lay where Emma Dean had placed it before Spike's plate. "I never did see anyone so careless with money."

The red-headed lumberjack returned slowly, picked up the gold-piece and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Never mind. Don't say it," smiled Tom. "You may go now."

"Thankee," mumbled Spike, and made a hurried exit. Reaching the door, he broke into a run, never pausing until he had plunged deep into the forest, not to return until long after the jacks had turned in for the night.

Following the new foreman's departure the gifts for Overlanders and jacks were quickly distributed, and, half an hour later, on their way to their own camp, the Overland Riders stepped out into the sparkling night, where, as Hippy Wingate had said, every tree was a Christmas tree, dressed with snapping reflected lights from the moonbeams on the snowflakes. Elfreda Briggs called attention to a dark object at the top of a great pine. It was Henry--Henry in disgrace--Henry who had stolen a turkey from the cook-house and felt the sting of his master's club across his sensitive nose.

June and July disturbed the serenity of the night with two long-drawn, throaty brays.

A snow-bird chirped in the foliage somewhere above the Overlanders.

"What is the little birdie saying, Emma girl?" teased Hippy.

"What is he saying?" answered Emma thoughtfully. "I think, Hippy, that he is wis.h.i.+ng us all a merry, merry Christmas and a happy, successful new year."