Sweetapple Cove Part 22

"I shall never forgive you if you don't call," she answered, charmingly.

"But don't speak just now of going back to New York. I don't think I shall ever leave a place with such regret. I simply refuse to think of it."

It was really delightful to see this splendid girl, brought up in the most refined surroundings and yet so influenced by the glamour of the outdoor life. To the strong and healthful there can be no attraction in great towns that may not be dwarfed by the great pulsing of the lands sought by the lovers of rod and gun. Here she had gathered new ideas and unwonted thoughts. She is the best example I have ever seen of the st.u.r.dy, beautiful girlhood of modern life, and is an utter pleasure to look upon.

After a time we started towards Sweetapple Cove. The meat, or as much of it as we could carry, had all been tied up in packs. I was able to take a good load of it and Susie trudged along, bearing the big caribou head upon her shoulders.

"'Tain't much the weight on it," she said, "but it's clumsy. Them men has all they kin lug an' I'm a goin' ter hoof it erlong wid this, jest ter show willing."

Walking back seemed quite a different thing. After leaving the little lake we had climbed up, but now we were again on the great marshy barrens which inclined down towards the sea.

"Now," said Miss Jelliffe, during a spell of resting, "I should be utterly lost if I were alone. Nothing seems at all familiar and it is all a great jumble of little green islands of vegetation, of grey moss that is endless, of twisted junipers and lonely boulders. I don't know where I am, but I am perfectly happy, since some one knows the way."

Of course I was only acquainted with the general lie of the land, but the direction was quite clear to me. I wish everything was as straight-forward and clear as the way to the Cove.

"I am quite ashamed of myself," she continued. "I am the only one who is carrying nothing and is perfectly useless. I wonder your backs are not broken with those tremendous loads."

But the two men only grinned.

"It is nothing when you get used to it," I said, "providing one ever really gets used to a hard grind. But there are people to whom strong physical effort is a punishment while others simply accept it, grit their teeth, and carry the thing out."

"I suppose one has to learn how to accept things cheerfully," said Miss Jelliffe. "My life has been such an easy one that I have never had to try to bear heavy burdens."

"I am sure you will do it courageously, if ever the time comes," I answered.

Then we took up our packs and went on, making rather slow progress, as we were not pressed for time and the loads were heavy. In the middle of the day we took our lunch near a little brook, and, after starting again, we soon saw, from the summit of a little hill, the bright and glittering sea. Before us descended the valley of Sweetapple River, looking like a silvery ribbon winding in and out among the trees. To one side of us there was a rocky hill, once swept by a storm of flames and now tenanted only by the gaunt skeletons of charred firs and tamaracks. In the mistiness ahead of us the coast line, with its grim outlines softened, lost itself and melted away as if nature, in a kindly spirit, had sought to throw a veil over brutal features and covered them with a mantle of tender hues.

"This is ideally beautiful," said Miss Jelliffe. "I can understand that you may hesitate to leave all this to return to the grime of great cities."

Thus we returned to the Cove, and the girl hastened to her father, eager to tell him of our hunt and to show him the great head. I went with her to the house, and took pleasure in seeing the interest shown by the old gentleman. He certainly is a good sportsman.

"If Helen hasn't thanked you enough," he said, "I want to put in my oar.

I am really extremely obliged to you for giving her such a good time."

I left in a short time and Miss Jelliffe put out her hand in her frank and friendly way. I must say she is a girl in many thousands.

And now I wonder why I am writing all this. My diary, begun in self-defence at a time when I expected to spend so dreary a time that an addled and rusted brain would result unless I sought hard to keep it employed, scarcely has an excuse for being, now. The Jelliffes and the Barnetts, with the good people of the Cove, are surely enough to keep a man interested in the world about him. It has simply become a silly habit, this jotting down of idle words.

CHAPTER XIV

_From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_

_Dearest Aunt Jennie_:

I am writing again so soon because I don't think I can sleep, to-night.

I know that some people can't possibly slumber off when they are over-tired. That must be the matter with me, though I never realized it.

We had no more hunting after we killed that caribou. That night we camped, and I heard stories, from two poor, humble men, that made my head just whirl, for they were really Odysseys, or sagas, or any of the big tales one ever heard of. It would seem, Aunt Jennie, dear, as if the world is not at all the prosy thing some people take it to be. I suppose that the great knights and warriors are altogether out of it now, but I find that it is running over with men one usually never hears of, who accomplish tremendous things without the slightest accompaniment of drums or clarions.

We started back after a night during which I slept like a dead thing, but naturally I was the most alive girl you ever saw when I awoke. The men went away to where we had left the dead stag and returned with big haunches and other butcher-shop things, which they packed up in huge loads. It appears that my lucky shot has contributed considerably to the provisionment of Sweetapple Cove.

By the way, this place, which I once rather despised, looked most attractive when we came down towards it from the hills. I could see the beautiful, white _s...o...b..rd_ at anchor, looking very small, and the sunlight played on the bra.s.s binnacle which shone like a burning light.

Near it, very lowly and humble, rode the poor little fis.h.i.+ng smacks that are far more important to the world's welfare than our expensive plaything. The crop of drying cod was spread out on the flakes, as usual, and tiny specks of women and children were bending over them, turning the fish, piling them up, bearing some of them away on hand-barrows, and bringing fresh loads to scatter in the sun.

When we reached the house we found Daddy lying on the steamer chair. He was engaged in deep converse with our skipper, who left at once. The doctor only remained a few minutes, and then Susie appeared, her rubicund face framed in the mighty antlers of my quarry. Daddy laughed heartily.

"The two Dianas of Sweetapple Cove!" he exclaimed. "My dear, you ought to bear the bow and quiver and to sport the crescent on your queenly brow.

Now tell me all about it! How are you, and what kind of a time have you had? I need not ask about the sport for you have brought the evidence with you. Isn't it a wonderful head? I call it rather cruel to be parading such things before a poor cripple."

"I'm sure glad enough ter get rid o' he," quoth Susie, with a sigh of relief. "It lugs fair clumsy. I'll be goin' over ter Sammy's house now.

He've got the tenderlines in th' pack of he and ter-morrer ye's goin' ter feed on something worth bitin' inter. Ef yer doesn't say so I'll be awful fooled. And yer better s.h.i.+ft yer stockin's right now, ma'am, 'cause walkin' all day in the mash is bound ter soak yer feet spite o' good boots. I'll be back in a minnut."

The good creature dashed away on her errand, and we were left to tell our tales.

"It was perfectly splendid, Daddy," I told him. "I hope they have taken good care of you and you were a dear to let me go. I have had such a wonderful time!"

"I am delighted, my dear," he said, "but now you had better run away and follow Susie's advice."

"Just a moment, Daddy," I pleaded. "I have had wet feet for two days and a minute more won't hurt me. Indeed I killed the big caribou, and Dr.

Grant was ever so kind, as he always is. He said he would try to come in for supper. Oh! You ought to have seen that big stag, and how proudly he stepped out into that brook, all alert, and how he started to run. And then I shot, and the doctor found him for me. It was wonderful!"

"That doctor is a fine fellow," said Dad.

Of course I agreed with him. It is quite amazing how Daddy has taken to Dr. Grant, but then I don't see how one could help it. The doctor is a very quiet man, excepting when he gets enthusiastic or mad about things, and one thinks at first that he is rather distant in his manner. But when you know him much better he comes right out and shows just as much red blood as those boys at home. I wonder why he keeps on living at Sweetapple Cove?

So I went off to change my shoes and stockings, which were quite soaked through, and then I sat again with Daddy and told him a lot more about our trip. I wish I could have explained everything to him, but of course I couldn't make him see the color of those far-away hills and the perfect beauty of those great marshes. I told him all about the camp by the little lake, and the winding distant river, and the cries of the ptarmigans and the loons, and the finding of the stag.

"Helen dear," said Daddy, who had been looking at me in that keen way of his, "I don't think I ever saw you so enthusiastic before. Your mind has been fully opened to the charm of the wilderness, and that is something that city people seldom understand. You were never so earnest before.

What is it? Are you developing new traits?"

Of course I laughed at this, and yet it seemed to me also as if something were changed. I didn't quite know what Daddy meant, because it is sometimes difficult to know whether he is jesting or in earnest. He once told me that this was a rather good business a.s.set.

"Well, Daddy," I finally said. "I am afraid you will have to take me away, or I shall be falling so much in love with Sweetapple Cove that I will never want to leave it again."

"We will leave to-morrow, if you want to," he said, in a rather abrupt way.

Do you know, Aunt Jennie, that when he said that I just gasped a little.

It suddenly seemed so strange that we would have to go away soon, and that I might never see Sweetapple Cove again, and those dear Barnetts, and all the people, for the whole lot of them appear to have a way of stealing into one's heart.

"I don't really want to go at once, Daddy," I told him. "It will take a few days to get used to the idea, and to get everything ready. And Dr.

Grant says that very soon you will be able to walk without a cane. Do let us put it off for another week."

Daddy smiled vaguely, and finally nodded his consent. He is always so good about trying to please me. So I went and got my knitting and sat down at the foot of the big chair.

"I'm afraid I'll never finish it before we leave," I said, "and I doubt whether I will ever quite solve the mystery of turning heels."