Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the Great North Woods Part 32

"He is trying to say something," she half-whispered, holding up a hand for silence. "He is speaking, perhaps, of the mysteries of the universe--our immediate universe."

"Yus-s-s-s," observed Hippy solemnly. "Tell me, I prithee, little bird-woman, what is the wise old owl saying? Has he a message for me?"

"Yes. And I can tell you what it is. He says, 'you simp, you simp, you simp, you simp-simp.' Interpreted freely, this means, in addition to the truth of the owl's wise a.s.sertion, that you have gathered all the ingredients of a calamity, but you don't know it. Beware, Hippy Wingate, of dire things to come!" finished Emma, amid a shout of laughter. The Indian puffed on his pipe in stolid silence.

CHAPTER XXII

WHEN THE DAM WENT OUT

In the two weeks that had pa.s.sed since Wingate & Gray started their operations on the Little Big Branch, wonders had been accomplished. A modern camp for the lumberjacks had been constructed, and the dam had been completed to the extent of permitting them to close the gates and let water acc.u.mulate there.

On the day that marked the completion of the work, the Overland girls arranged to show their appreciation of what the jacks had done by giving them a surprise party. This party, first suggested as a dinner, after much discussion was changed to an old-fas.h.i.+oned dancing party, which the girls thought the men would enjoy more than they would a dinner.

Just before they sat down to their supper, the lumberjacks were "tipped" to finish the meal as quickly as possible and slick themselves up, because the Overland party was coming over to call, and Captain Gray to give them a brief "spiel," as Hippy expressed it in telling the men to get ready. The jacks received the word without comment; in fact they received it somewhat sullenly. Hippy, however, knew the lumberjack tribe by this time--knew their peculiar ways--and told the girls to go ahead with their plans.

Darkness had settled over the Big North Woods when Hippy rallied his flock for the party, each girl spruced up for the occasion, Emma Dean's face wreathed in smiles in antic.i.p.ation of the good time that was in prospect. The only member of the outfit who remained behind was the forest woman, who flatly refused to a.s.sociate with "them varmints,"

meaning the lumberjacks. Henry, laboring under no such scruples, followed the Overlanders as they set out for the lumberjacks' shack.

Any unusual activity, especially one that gave promise of food, instantly aroused Henry's curiosity, so, in this instance, he was close at the heels of the party when they filed into the bunk-house, where he nosed about smelling of the bunks, of the tables and sniffing the air, following which he sat down where he could command a view of the entire room.

The lumberjacks shook hands awkwardly with their guests, except that Spike merely made a move to do so, then quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his Mackinaw. Hippy acted as master of ceremonies, and, after waving jacks and guests to seats, cleared his throat, and made a complimentary speech.

"Captain Gray got stage fright at the last minute and told me that I must tell you what he wished you to know," he said. "I'm not going to make a speech, but what I am to say is, that when we get through with this job Mr. Gray and myself have decided to declare a dividend. That is, we are going to give each one of you men who started out with us, and who have done such fine, loyal work, a good-sized cash bonus. I perhaps don't need to tell you that I never made a speech in my life--so my friends say--but money is a loud talker; so, at the end of the season, we'll let money tell you how much we appreciate the good work you fellows have done."

Henry, who sat blinking at Lieutenant Wingate, at this juncture rolled over, and, curling up, went to sleep.

"You see," cried Hippy. "Even the bear goes to sleep when I talk." The men gave three cheers for Wingate & Gray, and three more for the Overland girls. "Help us get these tables out of the way, you fellows.

We are going to have some music. Speech making is ended."

Nora Wingate was already conferring with the "fiddler." Then, as the tables were moved to one side, Nora launched into a lively song that she had sung to the doughboys in France, the fiddler accompanying her on his violin. There were rough spots in the fiddling, but these Nora submerged in the great volume of her fine contralto voice. The song finished, the men howled for more and stamped on the floor. Nora sang again.

"We will now have a dance," announced Grace. "You boys will please act natural, and for goodness sake don't step on our toes with those hob-nail boots. Choose your partners."

Not a jack moved.

"Help me haul 'em out, Tom," cried Hippy, yanking a big Canadian to the floor and standing him up beside Nora Wingate. Tom did a similar service for another one, and in a few seconds five lumberjacks, red of face, s.h.i.+fting uneasily on their feet, were standing beside their partners on the dance floor.

"Hit it up, Mr. Fiddler," called Tom, whereupon the fiddler began sawing the strings of his violin and calling off for the dance, a square dance, and soon the crash of hob-nail boots on the board floor made the shack tremble, the fiddler beating time with his foot.

Had it not been that the Overland girls knew the dance they never could have followed the fiddler's calls.

"s.h.i.+nny on the corners," "Gents all forw'd," "Sling yer pardner," "Up and down the travoy," "Dozey-dozey," "Smash 'em on the finish," was the way he called off, the latter call bringing the feet of the lumberjacks down in a series of bangs that threatened the collapse of the floor.

Outside, hovering over a little Indian fire, w.i.l.l.y Horse smoked stolidly, his ears attuned, not to the music and the shuffling feet, but to the sounds of nature, and to sounds that did not belong in nature's scheme of things.

"Let's have a waltz," cried Hippy exuberantly.

Grace shook her head.

"No waltzes," she answered. "Square dances will do very well. The dancing is rough enough as it is without our being spun to dizziness,"

she added in a lower tone.

"What do you want, Hippy Wingate?" demanded Anne. "This surely is rough enough work, isn't it? The fellows are doing the best they can, but they are not used to dancing with women. It is a great party, just the same."

"Can't be beat," agreed Hippy.

"I think w.i.l.l.y is trying to attract your attention," interrupted Miss Briggs, as she swept past Hippy in the dance.

Glancing towards the door, Lieutenant Wingate saw the Indian framed in the open doorway. w.i.l.l.y Horse made no sign, but his intent gaze was full of meaning. Hippy strolled leisurely to the door.

"Evening, w.i.l.l.y. Come in and have a dance or something to eat," greeted Hippy cordially. In a lower tone he asked, "Anything wrong?"

"Mebby! You come. No speak here."

The Indian turned away, and Hippy followed him casually until well out of sight of the dancers.

"Now what is wrong?" demanded the Overland Rider in a brisk tone.

"You hear big noise?"

Hippy shook his head.

"Can't hear anything above the smas.h.i.+ng of the lumberjacks' boots."

"Me hear. Big noise up river--boom--boom--boom! Listen! What you hear?"

"It sounds like wind in the tops of the trees," answered Hippy after a moment of listening.

"No wind. w.i.l.l.y know."

"What is it, then?"

"Water! Dam up-river go out. Water come down! Mebby logs come down, too!"

"What! The dam built by the timber-thieves? It isn't possible. There is not enough water in the dam to cause the roar I hear."

"Plenty water. You fix gates so dam fill up. You know."

"That's so." Hippy ran down to the river to listen, still doubting w.i.l.l.y's a.s.sertion that the timber-thieves' dam had burst out.

The Indian had followed and stood silently beside his listening companion, his own ears listening to the distant murmur. w.i.l.l.y, however, did not need to listen. He knew!

"I don't believe it is water that we hear," muttered Lieutenant Wingate.

"Him water," muttered the Indian. "Moon come up. Good!"

The moon at full, after being hidden from view for nearly a week, rose above the tops of the trees, thinning the darkness that lay heavy on the river, the full light not yet having reached the Little Big Branch at that point. Hippy shaded his straining eyes and gazed upstream. All seemed peaceful in that direction, but he suddenly realized that the sound he had heard was increasing in volume. He could now hear a succession of hollow reports, the meaning of which he could not fathom.