A Canadian Farm Mystery; Or, Pam the Pioneer. Bessie Marchant
enough to think about that when the dear old man shows up; meanwhile we could not be so inhuman as to let anyone go away unfed. Bring your brother in, and we will feed him on chicken pie and spiced cake. What a good thing it is for me that the surprise party had such liberal ideas with regard to food!” Pam whisked round to find another plate as she spoke, but she left Sophy to go and invite the visitor in to supper.
Don was looking very serious. He muttered to Sophy in that moment of meeting that it was to be hoped old Wrack Peveril would not turn up in the township just now, for the people were ready to rise and slay him, because of the manner in which Sam Buckle had been knocked about.
“But they are not sure, are they, that Mr. Peveril did it?” gasped Sophy, with a quick backward glance to make certain that Pam was nowhere within earshot.
Don shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Who else was there to do it? The two were known to be at enmity. Sam Buckle keeps muttering that it was his right, and everyone knows he always declared it was his right to put a fence just there.”
“Sam Buckle is such a disagreeable old man that I cannot feel he is worth much pity,” remarked Sophy with a scornful tilt of her nose, as she laid her hand on the bag of clothes which her brother had brought for her.
“I don’t feel any for him,” said Don quickly, “nor for old Wrack either; the pair are about as amiable as a couple of old bull moose, and there is nothing for it but to let them fight to a finish, that I can see. The one that I am sorry for is that nice little girl in yonder, and whatever her mother could have been thinking about to let her come so far with no one to take care of her is more than I can imagine.”
“Oh, Pam can take care of herself, don’t you fret! She might be a Canadian by the way she takes hold of life, and she does not seem to be afraid of anything except the old mother-pig, and anyone might be forgiven for being a bit scared at facing her, she looks so very fierce.” Sophy was leading the way into the house as she spoke, and looking back over her shoulder at her brother. She did not remember having seen Don look so grave before, but she decided that gravity certainly became him, for it gave him a dignity which was quite new to him.
They were very merry at supper that night, despite the cloud which overhung the house. Sophy had carried her bag upstairs, and had slipped into a working frock. With her mind at ease about her clothes her spirits had mounted at once. She made little jokes, and went off into bursts of laughter about anything or nothing in a fashion which proved so infectious that the other two were speedily laughing also.
Directly supper was over Don rose to go. Not having been in bed on the previous night, and having been hard at work all day, he was so sleepy that he could hardly keep his eyes open. Sophy would have besought him to lie down on the settle in the living-room and have his sleep out there, but she was so concerned that her mother should not be alone another night that she would not even suggest his remaining at Ripple.
“Where are you two going to sleep to-night?” he asked, just as he was going to mount his horse.
“In one of the upstairs rooms. We have had the bed out in the sun all day,” said Sophy, and there was in her mind a swift wonder at his concern.
“That is right. Look here, sis, if there is a bolt to the stairs door, mind you shoot it when you go upstairs, and don’t come down in the night whatever you may hear. I’m not afraid that anyone would harm either of you—if you keep out of the way, that is. But I should not be surprised if someone tried a bit of burgling on here, for there are plenty of people silly enough to think that old Wrack was a miser, and not so bed-rock poor as he looked.”
“We won’t come down, I promise you,” said Sophy. Then she added, with a merry laugh: “Not even if another surprise party happens along this way, and dances all night to the strains of a cornet and flute. Oh, I say, wouldn’t it be weird!”
“I should think it would,” replied Don, and bothered though he was by the lonely condition of the two, he could not forbear a chuckle of amusement at the fancy picture his sister had called up. “Mose Paget is the only man that can play the cornet in the township that I know of, and he is going to help Mrs. Buckle with Sam to-night.”
It was very weird and still at Ripple when Don had ridden away. The darkness dropped over the forest like a pall. It was cloudy to-night, and the young moon had no chance at all against the billowy masses of cloud that were piled along the horizon. It would rain before morning, so Sophy said. If the weather broke it might even be dull and stormy for a week or more, and she sighed, because she loved fine weather so much the best. Pam sighed too, and her face was a little white and drawn when she dropped the heavy bar of ironwood into the socket at the side of the door. Sophy had told her that the nearest house was three miles away, and she was trying to picture the situation. Brought up in London, taught from her childhood to understand that there were bristling dangers all around her, the solitude of Ripple seemed to put her almost outside the world. She argued that if there were no people there could be no danger, and then was surprised because she was scared at the solitude.
The dog had attached itself to her with slavish devotion. The creature accorded Sophy a bare tolerance, but there was perfect worship in the gaze it turned on Pam, and she was tremendously flattered by its preference. It even wanted to come up to bed with her that night when, soon after Don had gone, they betook themselves to the upstairs room where they intended to sleep. They humoured the animal, feeling that it would really be a comfort to have it upstairs with them, and they did not forget to bolt the door at the bottom of the stairs when they shut it.
They were so tired that the night passed for both of them in dreamless slumber, and they did not rouse until the dog woke them by whining to be let out. It was Pam who, with a dressing-gown round her, came down to open the house door that the creature might go free. She stood on the doorstep for a moment sniffing the freshness and drinking in the beauty of the morning. There was a chill in the air which made her shiver, for the dressing-gown was thin and the sun was not up yet. It was the magical beauty of the forest that was drawing her, the call of the wild that was in her blood.
“I love it, I love it, I would not go back to England if I could!” she whispered as she turned into the house again to go upstairs and dress. Then it suddenly occurred to her to wonder what would happen if her grandfather failed to return. “It is silly even to think of such a thing. Of course he will come back!” she murmured as she went upstairs; but she could not repress a little shiver, for the possibility would haunt her despite her efforts to banish it.
The morning “chores” were done, breakfast was out of the way, and Sophy was discussing with Pam what was the most necessary bit of work for them to start that morning, when the Doctor rode up, and they both ran out to greet him. The dog growled languidly. There had been so many people at Ripple in the last two days that the creature plainly felt it was too much fag to growl at everyone and so was indifferent about the business, although when an arrival was a once-a-week or once-a-fortnight event it had been ready to tear the new-comer to pieces.
“How is Mr. Buckle?” demanded Pam, giving Sophy no time to do the asking, but shouting the question as she ran.
“He died at midnight,” replied the Doctor briefly, and Pam flung up her hands in horror and consternation at the news. Of course she knew yesterday that the poor man was very ill, but she had never thought that he was going to die. Oh, it was too dreadful! Suppose her grandfather really had hurt him, then the poor old man would not be able to come home now, but would have to be a wanderer always, hiding from the punishment which would await him if he were found.
“Father, you should not have told her so suddenly!” cried Sophy with acute reproach in her tone as Pam turned and clung to her.
“So it seems,” replied the Doctor, as he slid from his horse and came to help in the restoration of Pam. “But there are some things that do not improve by keeping, and this is one of them. Miss Walsh, you have need of every atom of courage you possess. I think you are made of good stuff, and you have got to rise to the occasion somehow.”
“I will if