The Lady of Big Shanty Part 18

"Good!" cried Thayor. "Holcomb says he can easily take us there and back in time for luncheon."

Alice turned to her husband, and patting the back of his hand, said:

"Sam, you'll forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm since I came, won't you? I was really ill; the heat was something frightful coming up."

The tone of her voice was captivating.

Thayor covered her hand with his own.

"Of course I will--you were tired out, dear--that was all. Hurry up and drink your coffee," he continued, looking at the clock over the chimney-piece in the breakfast room; "Holcomb is waiting for us. But put on your heaviest boots, Alice, before you start; the trail is apt to be damp in places after the misty night. We are lucky not to have waked up in a drizzling rain."

Margaret looked across the table at her mother:

"Oh, what a night it was!" she burst out. "Could there be anything more beautiful than the wilderness in the moonlight? It really seemed a sin to go to bed. I hope you saw it too--I was coming to wake you, it was so lovely."

"And so I gather," returned Alice with a smile, "that you went to bed very late."

"Yes, I did," confessed Margaret; "and so I have every night since we came--never have I seen anything so grand as the tumbling water. Oh, I just love it!" and she laid her little hand in her father's as a silent tribute to his generosity in giving it to her.

The breakfast hurriedly finished, Thayor went out to the veranda and lighted a long, slim cigar. He felt like a man who had just received good news. For some moments he paced jauntily up and down, waiting for Holcomb to appear. Alice's sudden change of manner had made him as happy as a boy. It was so extraordinary and so unexpected that he could hardly believe it was true. Her whole att.i.tude during the drive in, and since, had been a bitter disappointment to him; now it seemed as if he had awakened from a bad dream. The caressing touch of her hand had put new life in him. Was she at last really repentant? he wondered; was there after all, a throb of love in her heart for him?

Suddenly he caught sight of Holcomb coming across the compound. He wore his gray slouch hat, a short jacket and his high boots. Very few of the young fellows about him had his build and breadth, and none his easy grace.

"Good morning, Billy!" he called.

"Good morning, Mr. Thayor," returned Holcomb cheerily.

"And what a day, Billy!" answered Thayor, rubbing his hands in boyish glee.

"Just about as nice as they make them. You look happy, Mr. Thayor, and you look hearty--that's best of all."

"I am, Billy--who wouldn't be well and happy a morning like this?

And I've got a piece of news for you, too--good news; Mrs. Thayor is coming along with us. How will the new trail be--a little rough for her, do you think?"

"Not a bit of it! Clear going all the way--besides it isn't more than two miles there and back. Freme has made a clean job of it. There's a short swamp just before we get to the pond, but I guess we can manage to get the ladies across without their getting wet."

"Oh, that air--just smell it, Billy!" reiterated the owner of Big Shanty enthusiastically. Think of the poor people in the city who have none of it. I must send for Randall as soon as we get settled, and some of those fellows we met at The Players that day, and let them have a whiff of it--do them a lot of good. Randall loves it. Poor boy--he needs a change now worse than I did. And have you seen Mrs.

Thayor this morning?"

"No."

"Well--you never saw her look better; she tells me she slept splendidly. Why, think of it, my boy, she actually came down to breakfast--a thing I have not known her to do in years."

"I'm mighty glad to hear Mrs. Thayor is better," returned Billy thoughtfully--he wished it might include her manners. "She did not seem well yesterday or the day before."

"No--one of her old headaches. It must have been pretty hot, even in the 'Wanderer.' Here they are now!"

Alice and Margaret appeared on the veranda.

"Good morning, Mr. Holcomb," said Alice, nodding pleasantly. "You see," she added with her most captivating smile, "you must show me this wonderful little pond my daughter has told me about, too. May I come?"

Holcomb lifted his slouch hat from his head.

"Why, certainly, Mrs. Thayor. We can make it there and back by noon,"

and his eyes wandered over the trim and graceful figure accentuated so charmingly by her short skirt.

Margaret had also followed the lines of the costume. "You must always wear a short skirt, mother--it is most becoming."

"And so comfortable, my dear," added Alice nonchalantly as she placed both hands about her flexible waist and half turned. It was her stronghold, this figure--she would have been adorable in sackcloth and ashes, she knew, but she preferred a tailor-made.

Soon the little party, lead by Holcomb, were seen picking their way along the trail; Margaret keeping close to the young woodsman and plying him with innumerable questions. She thought she had never seen him look so handsome, debonair and manly. Then, too, his wide knowledge of the woods was a delight to her. Little by little he explained, as he followed the trail, those secrets of woodcraft not found in books.

At length the trail ended in an opening at the edge of a small pond--nameless, and round as a dollar, its circ.u.mference framed in an unbroken line of timber. A few rods from this opening, where the little party was now seated, a big trout plunged half out of the water.

"He's after that miller," explained Holcomb. The others strained their eyes, but they could see nothing but the widening rings where the trout had disappeared. Again he rose out of a basin of moulten turquoise like a flash of quicksilver. "The old fellow will get him yet," remarked Billy; "the miller's wing is broken--he's lying flat on the water."

"Your eyes are better than mine, Holcomb," declared Thayor.

"Take an old trout like that," explained Holcomb, "and he'll always strike with his tail first; he broke that miller's wing the second time he rose."

Alice and Margaret were straining their eyes to catch, if possible, a glimpse of the unfortunate moth.

"I can't see him," confessed Margaret; "can you, mother?"

"My dear child, my eyes are not fitted with a microscope," Alice laughed.

"There!" cried Holcomb, as the trout splashed still farther out on the quiet pond. "He's got him!"

"And we'll get _him_ some day," exclaimed Thayor, the fever of fis.h.i.+ng tingling within him.

"There are some big trout in here, Mr. Thayor," continued Holcomb.

"I've known this pond for several years and it has been rarely, if ever, fished."

"Then, Billy, we'll have to go at them at twilight," declared Thayor.

"You had better tell Freme to bring in one of the canvas canoes."

The four retraced their way over the trail. As they reached a muddy place half way home Holcomb noticed the imprint of Margaret's trim little feet. It was evident to Alice, who had been watching him, that the tracks puzzled the young woodsman. There were four of these dainty tracks instead of two; soon the mystery was cleared as Alice Thayor pa.s.sed ahead of him and Holcomb saw that Margaret's and her mother's footprint were identical in size.

"You seem puzzled," Alice remarked, as Holcomb steadied her along a sunken log.

"I was looking where you had stepped, Mrs. Thayor," he confessed.

Alice laughed, a low, delicious laugh.

"You see," she explained frankly, putting forth her trim boot, "my daughter and I wear the same size."

Again Margaret and Holcomb took the lead. Thayor and Alice followed them leisurely, Thayor talking of his purchase of which he had yet only seen a small portion, Alice listening eagerly. During a pause she said carelessly:

"It must be frightfully hot in town, Sam. New York is dirty and deserted; I pity those who cannot get away." He stopped and grew enthusiastic again over the rare purity of the air.