THE SILVER MAPLE
THE
SILVER MAPLE
A Stoty of Upper Canada
BY
MARIAN KEITH
AUTHOR OF "TREASURE VALLEY," ."'LIZBETH
OF THE DALE," ETC.
HODDER & STOUGHTON
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1908, by
GEORGE H. DORAN
PS
CONTENTS
CHAFTXB
I. IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 9
II. A NEW NAME 18
III. WINNING His SPURS 41
IV. " CAPE CANADA " 58
V. THE REFORMATION 83
VI. AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 106
VII. THE AVENGING OF GLENCOE 138
VIII. THE END OF THE FEUD 167
IX. RALPH STANWELL AGAIN . . . . . . . 185
X. IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 207
XI. THE WEAVER'S REWARD 222
XII. A WELL-MEANT PLOT 252
XIII. THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS . . . 280
XIV. THE VOYAGEURS 306
XV. THE SECRET OF THE NILE 320
XVI. RE-VOYAGE 335
XVII. THE PROMISED LAND 347
THE SILVER MAPLE
IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS
Like the great rest that cometh after pain,
The calm that follows storm, the great surcease,
This folding slumber comforts wood and plain
In one white mantling peace.
WILLIAM WILFRED CAMPBELL.
THE storm was over, the snow had ceased
falling, and under its muffling mantle, white
and spent with the day's struggle, lay the
great swamp of the Oro. It seemed to hold in its
motionless bosom the very spirit of silence and death.
The delicately traced pattern of a rabbit or weasel
track, and a narrow human pathway that wound
tortuously into the sepulchral depths, were the only
signs of life in all the white stillness. Away down
the dim, cathedral-like aisles, that fainted into softest
grey in the distance, the crackling of an overburdened
twig rang startlingly clear in the awesome hush. The
tall firs and pines swept the white earth with their
snow-laden branches, the drooping limbs looking like
throngs of cowled heads, bent to worship in the
9
10 THE SILVER MAPLE
sacred stillness of a vast temple. For the forest was,
indeed, a place in which to wonder and to pray, a
place all white and holy, filled with the mystery and
awe of death.
But suddenly into this softly curtained sanctuary
came a profaning sound; a clear, joyous shout rang
through the sacred aisles; and, down the narrow
pathway, leaping over fallen logs, whipping aside
the laden branches and scattering their snow-crowns
in a whirling mist about him, destroying, in his ruth-
less progress, both the sanctity and the beauty of the
place, came a human figure, a little figure, straight
and sturdy, and as lithe and active as any other wild,
forest-creature. His small, red-mittened hands, the
scarlet woollen scarf about his neck, and his rosy
cheeks made a bold dash of colour in the sombre gloom,
as his abounding life disturbed the winter death-sleep.
On he came, leaping from log to log like a hare,
and setting the stately forest arches ringing to a
rollicking Scottish song, tuneful and incongruous,
**Wi* a hundred pipers an* a', an* a',
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an* a',
We'll up an gie them a blaw, a blaw!
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an* a'! w
But as he plunged down the hill into the grey
depths he suddenly ceased singing. The awe of the
THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 11
place touched his child's spirit. Reared in the forest
though he had been, he suddenly felt strangely un-
familiar with his surroundings. He had never before
experienced anything like fear in the woods. The
rigours of seven Canadian winters had bred a hardy
spirit in this little backwoodsman, and besides what
was there to dread in the forest? It had been his
playground ever since he was first able to steal away
from Granny and toddle off to " the bush " to gather
blue flags and poke up the goggle-eyed frogs from
their fragrant musk-pools. But here was something
unfamiliar; a strange uncanny place the swamp
seemed to-day; and, being Nature's intimate, he fell
into sudden sympathy with her awe-stricken mood.
He sped silently forward, glancing fearfully down
the dim, shadowy aisles, so ghostly, so mysterious,
dreading he knew not what.
" Eh, eh, it will be a fearsome place," he whispered.
"It's jist, eh, it must be the 'valley of the
shadow ' ! " And then he suddenly remembered the
psalm that Granny had taught him as soon as he
could speak,
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death,
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me."
He whispered it over from beginning to end, not
12 THE SILVER MAPLE
because he comprehended its meaning as applied to
his case, but because it was associated with Granny
and all things good, and, therefore, gave him a sense
of comfort. For he felt as though he were home by
the fireside, and she was smoothing his curls and
singing those words, as she so often did when he
was falling asleep.
"And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
As he whispered the last line he reached the top of
the hill and suddenly emerged from the valley of
shadows and fears into the light of day. Just
ahead lay a clearing, with the rose-coloured sunset
flooding its white expanse and glowing between the
dark tree-stems. He ran forward with joyful relief
and leaped out into an open world of beauty, all
ablaze in the dazzling rays of the setting sun. Here
was light and safety yes, and friends !
He had emerged upon the public highway, known
in that part of the country as the " Scotch Line,"
and there, coming swiftly down the glittering hill,
was a low, rough sleigh, drawn by a pair of bell-
less horses. The driver was an elderly man, tall,
straight, and fierce-looking, with a fine, nob^e head
and a long, sweeping, grey beard, which gave him a
patriarchal appearance. By his side sat a young
THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 13
man? almost his exact counterpart in face and figure,
but lacking the stately dignity of years. Behind,
on the edge of the sleigh, swinging their feet in the
snow, sat two more youths, both showing in face and
figure unmistakable signs of close relationship to
the elderly man on the front seat.
As the little figure came bounding out from the
forest the whole quartette broke into a welcoming
shout. With an answering whoop the boy darted
forward and pitched himself upon the sleigh.
"Horo, Scotty!" "Woohoo!" "How's our big
college-student ? "
He was caught up and flung from one to another
like a bundle of hay, until he landed, laughing and
breathless, in the arms of the driver. Big Malcolm
MacDonald stood the boy up between his knees, his
deep eyes shining with pride.
" Hey, hey ! " he cried. " And how's our big man
that will be going to school ? "
The boy's dark eyes were blazing with excitement.
"Oh, Grandad, it would jist be fine! It's jist
grand! An' me an' Big Sandy's Archie and Peter
Jimmie is all readin* in one place, an' the master says
I can read jist fine, whatever! "
" Didn't you get a lickin' ? " demanded a voice
from the rear of the sleigh.
14 THE SILVER MAPLE
The bright face suddenly fell, one could never
aspire to be a hero until one had braved the master's
tawse.
" No," was the reluctant admission. " The mas-
ter would be jist fearsome to the big lads, but he
would not be saying anything to me. But," he
added, brightening, " I would be having a fight ! "
"Horo!" the three young men laughed delight-
edly. " That will be a fine start, jist keep it up! "
cried the youth on the front seat.
"Hoots, whist ye, Callum!" cried the elder man,
reprovingly, while his dancing eyes contradicted his
tongue. " What will his Granny be sayin' to such
goin's on, an' the first day at school, too ! "
" And who would you be fightin', Scotty? " asked
Uncle Rory, leaning eagerly forward.
" Danny Murphy ! " he announced truculently,
" an' I would be lickin' him good, too ! "
There was a chorus of joyous approval.
" Good for you ! " shouted Callum ; "jist you
pitch into any o* yon Irish crew every time you get a
chance!"
"Be quate, will ye, Callum I" cried his father
more sternly. " The lad will be jist like yerself, too
ready with his fists, whatever. A brave man will
never be a boaster, Scotty, man."
THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 15
The would-be hero's head drooped; he looked
slightly abashed.
"What would Danny be doin* to you?" inquired
Callum.
At the question, the proud little head came up
swiftly.
" He said he said ! " cried its owner, stammer-
ing in his wrath, "he said I would be an English-
man! "
Small comfort he received, for the report of this
deadly insult produced yells of laughter.
" Yon was a black-hearted Irish trick, an' jist like
one o' Pat Murphy's tribe, whatever," said Callum,
with a sudden affectation of solemnity that some-
what appeased the child's rising indignation.
" An' you would be pitchin' into him good for his
lies, wouldn't you ? " inquired Rory, encouragingly.
The boy looked up shyly at his grandfather. " A
wee bit," he admitted modestly.
The father glanced significantly at his eldest son.
" School will be the place to learn many things," he
said in a low tone. The young man laughed easily.
" He's bound to be finding it out some time, anyway,"
he answered, but not so low that the boy's quick ears
could not catch the words. He looked up intently
into the faces of the two men, a startled expression in
16 THE SILVER MAPLE
his big eyes. Then he suddenly scrambled out from
between them, and went behind to where Hamish, his
youngest uncle, sat. He felt vaguely that he was
approaching some strange, unforeseen trouble, and
Hamish was always sympathetic.
The sleigh had been moving swiftly through long,
narrow forest aisles, and now it suddenly turned into
view of a small farm, a " clearing," plentifully be-
sprinkled with snow-crowned stumps and surrounded
by the still unconquered forest, dark and menacing,
but sullenly and slowly retreating.
Here was a home, nevertheless ; a home wrested by
heroic struggles from the wilderness. In the centre,
on the face of a little sloping hill, stood the citadel
of this newly-conquered territory, a farmhouse
and out-buildings.
They were all rough log structures, but the dwell-
ing house had about it the unmistakable atmosphere
of a home. Around it, even under the snowdrifts,
were vague signs of a garden; from the low, wide
chimney poured forth a blue column of smoke; and
at one of the windows a candle twinkled cheerfully;
both speaking of warmth and welcome within, very
grateful in the chill, winter dusk. And at the side
of the house, on a small knoll, spreading its bare
branches over the roof as though to shield the home
THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 17
from the biting blasts, grew a gigantic silver maple,
a welcome shelter alike in summer and winter.
As the sleigh swept past the house on its way to
the barn, Big Malcolm pushed the boy gently for-
ward. " Run away in, Scotty, man," he said ; " see,
Granny will be watchin' for you at the window."
Scotty hesitated ; he wanted to go on to the stable,
and there give Rory and Hamish a more detailed
account of his glorious battle of the morning. But
Granny was expecting him, and he must not dis-
appoint her; even Callum dared not do that, and
Callum dared almost anything else. So the boy
leaped down and ran swiftly up the rough little path-
way. At his approach the old, weather-beaten door
flew open ; and he sprang into a pair of outstretched
arms.
n
A NEW NAME
Outside, the ghostly rampikes,
Those armies of the moon,
Stood while the ranks of stars drew on
To that more spacious noon,
While over them in silence
Waved on the dusk afar
The gold flags of the Northern light
Streaming with ancient war.
BLISS CARMAH.
SCOTTY lay stretched before the wide fire-
place, his tousled, curly head upon his small,
brown hand, his eyes fastened dreamily upon
the glowing mass of coals. He was waiting anxiously
for the rest of the family to join him. Supper was
over; and just as soon as his grandfather and " the
boys " returned from the barn he was going to re-
count, for the fourth time, the great events of this,
his first day at school. He felt like a hero just re-
turned from an overwhelming victory. The whole
family seemed conscious of his added importance.
Even Bruce, his collie dog, sat close beside him, pok~
18
ANEWNAME 19
ing him occasionally with his nose, that he might have
a share in his master's glory. And as for Granny,
she stopped every few moments in her work of strain-
ing and putting away the milk to exclaim :
" Eh, eh, but it's Granny would be the lonesome
old body this day without her boy ! "
The little candle on the bare, pine table shed only
a small ring of light, and the goblin shadows danced
away from the wide hearth into the corners of the
room. In the darkest one stood an old four-post bed
with a billowy feather mattress, covered by a tartan
quilt. Beside it hung a quantity of rough coats and
caps, and beneath them stood the " boot- jack," an in-
strument for drawing off the long, high-topped boots,
and one Scotty yearned to be big enough to use. In
another corner stood Granny's spinning-wheel, which
whizzed cheerily the whole long day, and beside it was
a low bench with a tin wash-basin, a cake of home-
made soap and a coarse towel. There was very little
furniture besides, except a few chairs, the big table,
the clock with the long chains and the noisy pendu-
lum, the picture of Queen Victoria, and the big, high
cupboard into which Granny was putting the supper
dishes. This last article of furniture was always of
great interest to Scotty. For away up on the top
shelf, made doubly valuable by being unattainable,
20 THE SILVER MAPLE
stood some wonderful pieces of crockery ; among
them a sugar-bowl that Granny had brought from
the old country, and which had blue boys and girls
dancing in a gay ring about it. Then there was the
glass jar with the tin lid in which Grandaddy kept
some mysterious papers ; one piece was called money.
Scotty had actually seen it once, in Grandaddy's
hands, and wondered secretly why such ugly, crum-
pled, green paper should be considered so precious.
" An' would Peter Lauchie not be coming across
the swamp with you, ra* eudail bheg? " his grand-
mother was asking for the fifth time.
" Noh ! " The boy's answer was quick and dis-
dainful. Somehow he would rather Granny would
not pat his head and lavish endearing Gaelic epithets
upon him to-night ; such things had been very sooth-
ing in the past when he was sleepy and wanted to go
to bed; but now he was a big boy, going to school,
and had fought and defeated in single combat one
of the MacDonalds' enemies, and he could not be
expected to endure petting.
" Why, Granny ! " he cried, " I would be knowing
the road all right. Peter Lauchie jist came to his
clearin', and I would be coming to the line all alone,
and then I met Grandaddy an' the boys there."
" Eh, indeed, it is the great man you will be, what-
ANEWNAME 21
ever," she said, regarding him wistfully. This child,
her last baby, and the best-beloved, was growing up
swiftly to manhood, and like all the others would soon
have interests beyond her. " An' would Granny's
boy not be fearing to cross the swamp alone ? " Her
voice was almost pleading. She bent down, and her
thin, hard hand rested caressingly on his dark,
tumbled curls. She yearned to hear him confess
himself her baby still. He threw back his head and
looked up into her tender, wrinkled face; and one
little hand went up suddenly to caress its rough sur-
face. For Scotty had a heart qXiite out of propor-
tion to the size of his body, and a look of grief on
Granny's face could move him quicker than the
sternest command of his grandfather.
" Yes," he confessed in a whisper, " I would be
fearing jist once, and then I spoke the piece about
* the Lord is my Shepherd ' and then I wouldn't be
minding much. Sing it, Granny."
So Granny sang the Shepherd's psalm in Gaelic, as
she went slowly about her household tasks ; sang it in
a thin, quavering voice to a weird old Scottish melody
that had in it the wail of winds over lone heather
moors, and the sob of waves on a wild, rock-bound
coast. She came and went, in and out of the dancing
ring of fire-light, a tall, thin figure, stooped and
THE SILVER MAPLE
aged-looking, apparently more from hard work than
from advanced years. But her toil-bent frame, her
rough hands and coarse grey homespun dress could
not quite hide the air of gentle dignity that clothed
her. There was a certain lofty refinement in her
movements; and on her wrinkled face and in her
beautiful grey eyes the imprint of a soul that toil
and pain had only strengthened and sweetened.
Hers was the face of a woman who had suffered much,
but had conquered, and always would conquer,
through faith and love.
To the little boy on the hearthstone, at least, the
thin, stooped figure and worn face made up the most
beautiful personality the world could produce. But
he turned to the fire, and his dreams floated far away
beyond the ring of fire-light, and beyond Granny's
gentle voice. For he had entered a new world that
day, the great new world of school, and his imagina-
tion had a wider field in which to run riot.
He was still dreaming, and Granny was half-way
through the psalm for the second time, when the
stamping of snowy feet at the door announced the
return of Big Malcolm and his sons. Callum came
swinging in first, Callum who was such a gay, hand-
some, rollicking fellow that he was Scotty's hero and
copy. The boy sprang up, pitching himself upon
ANEWNAME S3
him, and was promptly swung over the young man's
shoulders, until his feet kicked the raftered ceiling.
Scotty yelled with glee, Bruce leaped up barking, and
the room was in an uproar.
" Hooch! be quate! " shouted Big Malcolm. " It
is a child you are yourself, Callum!"
At the sounds of the noise and laughter a small
figure stirred in the shadowy chimney-corner, the
figure of a little, bent, old man, with a queer, elfish,
hairy visage. He sat up and his small, red eyes
blinked wonderingly. " Hech, hech, and it will be
the cold night, Malcolm ! " he said in Gaelic.
" A cold night it is, Farquhar," cried Big Malcolm,
piling the wood upon the fire. " But we will soon be
fixing that, whatever."
" It will be a good thing to be by a warm fire this
night," continued Old Farquhar solemnly, " och,
hone, a good thing, indeed ! "
Outside the wind had once more gathered its forces,
and was howling about the house, and the swaying
branches of the silver maple were tapping upon the
roof as though to remind the inhabitants that it was
still there to protect them. But the little old man
shivered at the sound, for he had once known what
it was to be homeless on those hills over which the
blast was sweeping.
24 THE SILVER MAPLE
How Old Farquhar came to be a member of Big
Malcolm MacDonald's family no one could quite
tell. He was one of those unattached fragments of
humanity often found in a new country. A sort of
wandering minstrel was Farquhar, content so long as
he could pay for a meal or a night's lodging at a way-
side tavern by a song, or a tune on his fiddle. Thus
he had drifted musically for years through the
Canadian backwoods, until homeless old age had over-
taken him. Four years before he had spent a sum-
mer at Big Malcolm's, helping perfunctorily in the
harvest fields, working little and singing much, and
when the first hard frost had set the forest aflame
he had gathered his poor, scant bundle of clothes
into his carpet-bag preparatory to taking the road
again.
"And where will you be going for the winter?"
Big Malcolm had asked.
" She'll not know," said Old Farquhar, glancing
tremulously over the great stretches of dying forest,
" she'll not know."
" Hooch ! " cried his host angrily, " sit down with
ye!" He snatched up Old Farquhar's carpet-bag
and flung it into a corner, and there it had lain ever
since.
And in another corner, the warm one by the chim-
ANEWNAME 25
ney. Old Farquhar had sat every winter since, too,
smoking his pipe in utter content. Always in sum-
mer his Bohemian nature asserted itself again, and he
would take his stick and wander away, remaining,
perhaps, for months ; but as soon as the silver maple
beside the house began to turn to gold he would
come hobbling back, sure of a warm welcome in the
home where there was no stint.
The family gathered about the cheerful hearth:
every one of them, to Scotty's great delight, for there
was not half the fun at home when " the boys " went
off in the evenings. At one side of the fire sat his
grandmother, her peaceful face bent over her knit-
ting, and opposite her Big Malcolm smoking and
happy. Hamish, as usual, retired to the old bench
behind the table, and with the one candle close to him,
was soon absorbed in a book. In some miraculous
way Hamish always managed to have reading mate-
rial at hand, though the luxury sometimes cost him
a tramp half-way across the township of Oro. Near
the fire, balanced uneasily on the woodbox and whit-
tling a stick, sat Callum ; for Callum could never sit
down quietly, even at home. Callum Fiach, or Wild
Malcolm, they called him in this land of many Mac-
Donalds, where the dearth of names necessitated a
descriptive title. Unfortunately, Gallum's especial
26 THE SILVER MAPLE
cognomen was quite appropriate and the cause of
much anxiety to his gentle mother. But Scotty
thought it was fine; he intended to be just like Cal-
lum when he grew up. He would stand up straight
and grand and cut down great trees and fight the
Murphys, and go off in the evenings and be chaffed
about having a sweetheart. Rory was always teas-
ing Callurn about Long Lauchie's Mary, and Scotty
was resolved that, when he was big, he would go to see
Mary's sister, Betty; for then he and Callum could
go together. He cordially despised the chosen Betty
as a girl and a cry-baby, who gave her brother, Peter,
endless trouble ; but he was determined to shirk no
task, however unpleasant, that would make him more
like his hero.
When they were all ready to listen to him, the boy
seated himself upon a bench beside Rory, and pro-
ceeded to relate once more to his admiring family
the wonderful experiences of the day; the greatness
of the schoolmaster; the magnificence of the school
itself; the prowess of Peter Lauchie and Roarin'
Sandy's Archie, how they declared they weren't
afraid of even the master ; the number of boys old
McAllister could thrash in a day, and the amount he
knew ; such fearsome long words as he could spell, and
the places he could point out on the map ! He chat-
A NEW NAME 27
tered on to his delighted audience, but for some
strange reason he made no further allusion to his
fight.
When there was no more to tell, Rory crossed the
room and with elaborate care took down a box from a
shelf above the bed. From it he tenderly took out a
violin, and after much strumming and tuning up he
seated himself upon a chair in the middle of the room
and struck up the lively air of " The MacDonalds*
Reel." Scotty leaped to the floor; Rory's fiddle
could do anything with him, make him dance with mad
joy until he was exhausted, stir him up to a wild
longing to go away and do deeds of impossible prow-
ess, or even make him creep into the shadows be-
hind Granny's chair and weep heart-broken tears into
her ample skirts.
To-night the tune was gay, and Callum came out
into the ring of light, and sitting astride a chair with
his arms crossed over its back, put his nephew
through the intricacies of the Highland Fling until he
was gasping for breath. Granny saw, and stopped
the dance by a nod and smile to Rory; the music
instantly changed to a slow, wailing melody, and the
boy dropped into a chair and sat gazing into the fire,
dreaming dreams of mystery and wonder.
Then they all sang old-fashioned Scottish songs;
28 THE SILVER MAPLE
songs that were old before Burns came to give Scot-
land a new voice. And Old Farquhar struck in, dur-
ing a short pause, with one of Ossian's songs of war-
like doings and glorious deaths. He sang in a
cracked, weird voice to a wild Gaelic air that had
neither melody nor rhythm, but somehow contained
the poetic fire of the impromptu songs of the old
bards. Rory followed, putting in a note here and
there; but as the song wavered on and showed no
signs of coming to an end, he struck up, " The Hun-
dred Pipers an* a' an' a'," and drowned out the old
man's wail. Then Burns was not forgotten, and
they were all in the midst of " Ye Banks and Braes o'
Bonnie Boon," a song that always made Scotty's
heart ache as though it would burst, he knew not why,
when the door opened suddenly, letting in a rush of
frosty air, and a visitor.
No one ever knocked at a neighbour's door in the
Canadian backwoods, and James MacDonald, or
Weaver Jimmie, as he was called, was such a familiar
figure at Big Malcolm's that even Bruce merely raised
his eyes as he entered. Mrs. MacDonald smiled her
welcome, Big Malcolm shoved forward a chair, and
the music flowed on uninterrupted.
Weaver Jimmie was a young man, short, and thick-
set. He was something of an anomaly ; for, while he
ANEWNAME 29
was the coolest fighter in the township of Oro, and
gloried in strife, he was nervous and embarrassed to
the verge of distraction when in company, particu-
larly if it consisted of the fair sex. This diffidence
partly arose from the fact that poor Jimmie was
hopelessly ugly, and painfully aware of his short-
comings. His chief characteristics were a brilliant
and bristling red beard and a pair of long, flat feet.
He realised to the full that these obtrusive features
were anything but things of beauty, and found them
a sorrow forever in his vain attempts to conceal
them.
At Big Malcolm's invitation he moved up to the
fire in nervous haste, and with a deprecating smile;
dropped suddenly into a chair, and tilted it back in
imitation of Callum's easy nonchalance; but finding
the character difficult to maintain in view of his feet,
he suddenly came down to the horizontal once more,
and in so doing descended upon poor Bruce's tail.
That unoffending canine uttered a yelp of pain,
echoed by Scotty, who sprang to comfort him; and
Rory, whose musical ear had been irritated by the
disturbance, suddenly drew his bow with a discordant
rasp across the strings, and ended the melodious song
with a long, wolf -like howl.
" Hoots, toots, Rory lad ! " cried his mother re-
30 THE SILVER MAPLE
proachfully. " Come away, Jimmie man, come away
to the fire, it will be a cold night indeed."
But Weaver Jimmie was so overcome by his em-
barrassing mistake that, instead of obeying, he
backed away into the shadows like a restive horse.
" And how will all the folk in the glen be, Jim-
mie? " asked Big Malcolm.
Under cover of the conversation that ensued, Rory
gently drew his bow across the strings, and softly
sang an old ditty that had an especial meaning for
their guest
" Oh, Jinny banged, Jinny banged, Jinny banged the Weaver !
Ah cackled like a clockin' hen,
When Jinny banged the Weaver!"
Callum Fiach's eyes danced, and Weaver Jimmie
laughed sheepishly. He took off his cap, replaced
it again, smoothed his whiskers furiously, and then
gazed around as if seeking a means of escape.
" Don't you be heedin' the lad, Jimmie," cried Mrs.
MacDonald. " It is jist his foolishness."
" Hooch," cried Weaver Jimmie, with a fine as-
sumption of disdain, " it's little I'll be carin' for the
likes o' him, whatever."
" D'ye think she'll ever have you, Jimmie? " in-
quired the musician with great seriousness.
ANEWNAME 31
" Fll not be knowing for sure," replied the Weaver,
throwing one knee over the other in a vain attempt to
appear at ease. " She would be lookin' a deal better
these days, though ! " he added, hopefully, as though
the young lady of his choice had been suffering from
some wasting disease.
"Hang me, but I believe I'll go sparkin' Kirsty
John myself!" said Callum resolutely. "I'll be
wantin' a wife bad when the north clearin' is ready,
and I believe Kirsty's got a fancy for me."
" You'd better be mindin' your own business indeed,
Callum Fiach ! " cried Weaver Jimmie, with a sudden
fierceness that contrasted strangely with his habitual
diffidence. " She will be a smarter woman than you'll
be ever gettin' with your feckless ways, indeed ! "
"Well, I'm afraid there isn't much chance that
you'll be gettin'v her either," said Callum very seri-
ously. " Man, she would be givin' you a fine black
eye the last time you asked her."
Scotty turned away impatiently. The boys al-
ways seemed to get a great deal of fun out of Weaver
Jimmie's tempestuous love-affair, but he found it very
uninteresting. He slipped under the table, clam-
bered upon the bench beside Hamish, and stuck his
curly head between the book and the young man's
face; for he had long ago discovered this to be the
22 THE SILVER MAPLE
only effectual means of bringing Hamish back to
actualities. Such a proceeding would not have been
safe with Callum or Rory, but Hamish was always
patient. " What ye readin', Hamish? " he inquired
coaxingly.
" Jist a book," said Hamish dreamily. " Be care-
ful of it now. It belongs to the Captain ! "
" Captain Herbert? The Englishman Grandaddy
hates?"
" Yes ; whisht, will ye ? I didn't get it from him,
though. Kirsty John's mother had it, and lent it
to me."
" Was you ever at the Captain's place? "
" Yes, once."
"Is it fearful grand?"
"Yes, I suppose so. But I would jist be at the
back door. Take care, now, and let me read ! "
" The back door ! " Scotty's eyes ranged wonder-
ingly round the walls. With the exception of the
trap-door leading to the loft the house had but one
opening. "Eh, the Captain's folks must be awful
grand, Hamish, to be having two doors to their
house."
Hamish laughed. "There's grander things than
that there ; there's carpets on the floor, an' a piano to
play on, an' a whole roomful o' books ! Losh ! " he
ANEWNAME 33
exclaimed, " I'd like to get my hands on them jist for
a day!"
" How did Kirsty John's mother get this one? "
" The lady that lives there lent it to her. Kirsty's
mother used to work for them. Go on away now,
and let me read ! " for the boy was running his fingers
through the pages. " There's no pictures ; go and
play with Bruce."
But Scotty had turned to the fly-leaf and had dis-
covered some writing. " What's that, Hamish? "
Hamish read the inscription, which was written in
a round boyish scrawl, " Isabel Douglas Herbert,
from her loving cousin, Harold."
"Who'rethey?"
" The boy's the Captain's son, and the little girl is
his niece. I saw her once at Kirsty's. She's a
pretty, wee thing."
" Huh ! " Scotty was disdainful. I don't like
girls. They will jist be cry-babies. Is the boy as
big as me? "
" He's a little bigger, I guess. He goes to school
away in Toronto."
" Bet I could fight him. Is Toronto away over
in the old country? "
" No, it's in Canada. Be quiet. I want to read."
" Oh ! Is Canady very far away ? "
34 THE SILVER MAPLE
" No, it's right here ; this is Canada."
" Oh ! An* will the school-house be in Canady
too?"
" Yes."
"An 5 the Captain's house?"
" Imph-n-n."
"Oh! An' all Oro, an' Lake Simcoe? What will
you be laughing at? "
; "Wait till old McAllister learns you some geog-
raphy. You'll hear something about Canada that'll
surprise you, whatever."
" It won't be as big as the old country, though,
will it? " But Hamish did not answer. He was
far away with David Copperfield once more. The
boy raised the fly-leaf and took another peep at the
name. He sat very quiet for a few moment's and
then he crept closer to his uncle, a red flush creep-
ing up under the tan of his cheeks, his black eyes
shining.
" Hamish ! " he whispered, " Hamish, will that be
an English name ? "
"Eh? What name?" Hamish awoke reluctantly
to the troublesome realities. " I'll not know."
"Aw, tell me, Hamish!"
" My, but you will be a bother ! Yes, Herbert will
be an English name, but Isabel Douglas is Scotch, an*
ANEWNAME 35
a fine Hielan' name, too. But what in the world
would you be wanting to know for? "
Scotty hesitated. He hung his black, curly head,
and swung his feet in embarrassment; but finally he
looked up desperately.
" Do you know what made Danny Murphy say I
was an Englishman ? " he whispered.
Hamish stifled a laugh. " It would likely jist be
his natural Irish villainy," he suggested solemnly.
But Scotty shook his head at even such a natural
explanation. " No, it would not be that, it would
be because the master said it, Hamish ! "
" The master? " Hamish's look of amusement
changed to one of deep interest. "Why? What
would he be saying? "
The boy glanced around the room apprehensively,
but the rest of the family were still absorbed in
Weaver Jimmie. " When we would be coming into
the school," he whispered hurriedly, " the master
would be calling all the new ones to the front. An'
he says to me, 'What's your name, child?' An I
says, * It's Scotty, Scotty MacDonald.' An' he
says, 'Hut tut, another MacDonald! Yon's no
name. Whose bairn are ye?' An* I told him I
belonged to Grandaddy an' the boys ; an' he says,
an' he says, * Oh tuts, I know you now. You're Big
36 THE SILVER MAPLE
Malcolm's English grandson! ' He would be saying
that, Hamish ! An' he wrote a name for me ; see ! "
He had been growing more and more excited as the
recital proceeded, and at this point he jerked from
his bosom a torn and battered primer that had done
duty in the few days that Hamish had attended
school. Under the scrawling marks that stood for
Hamish's name was written in a fine scholarly flour-
ish, " Ralph Everett Stanwell."
"Humph!" Hamish gazed at the book, and a
look of sadness crept into his kind, brown eyes. He
glanced across the room at his father. Weaver Jim-
mie had just departed, and Callum was leaning over
the back of his chair laughing immoderately, while
Rory was out in the middle of the floor executing a
lively step-dance accompanied by voice and fiddle to
the words, " Ha ! Ha ! the wooin' o't ! "
" Look here, father," called Hamish, " do you see
what the schoolmaster would be writing in Scotty's
book? "
Big Malcolm took the primer, adjusted his spec-
tacles, and moved the little book up and down before
the candle to get the proper focus. " Ralph Everett
Stanwell," he read slowly. " What kind o' a name
would that be, whatever ! " he cried, with a twinkle in
his eye.
A NEW NAME 37
" It's got a fearsome kind of a sough to it," said
Callum apprehensively.
"It will be an English name I" cried Scotty
fiercely, " an' Peter Lauchie would be saying it is
j 1st no name at all ! "
The young men burst into laughter, which served
only to increase their nephew's wrath. He sprang
out upon the floor, his black eyes blazing, and stamped
his small foot.
"I'll not be English!" he shouted. "It's jist
them louts from the Tenth is English! An' I'll be
Hielan'. An' it's not my name ! "
" Eh, eh, mannie ! " cried his grandmother gently.
She laid her hand on the boy's arm and drew him
toward her. " That will be no way for a big boy
that will be going to school to behave," she whispered.
The child turned to her and saw to his amazement
that her eyes were full of tears. His sturdy little
figure stiffened suddenly, and he made a desperate
effort for self-control.
" But it would be a great lie, Granny ! " he faltered
appealingly.
" Hoots, never you mind ! " cried his grandfather,
with strange leniency; and even in the midst of his
passion Scotty dimly wondered that he did not receive
a summary chastisement for his fit of temper. There
38 THE SILVER MAPLE
was a strange, sad look in the man's eyes that alarmed
the child more than anger would have done.
" Granny will be telling you all about it," he said,
rising. " Come, lads, it will be getting late."
The three young men followed their father out to
the stable. Ordinarily they attended to the evening
duties there themselves, but to-night Big Malcolm
wished to leave the boy alone with his grandmother,
realising that the situation needed a woman's delicate
handling.
This new proceeding filled Scotty with an added
alarm. He clambered up on his grandmother's knee
as soon as they were alone and demanded an explana-
tion; surely that English name wasn't his. He
whispered the momentous question, for though Old
Farquhar was snoring loudly in his corner, Bruce was
there, wide awake and looking up inquiringly, as
though he could understand.
And so, with her arms about him, Granny told him
for the first time the story of his birth. How
Granny had had only one little girl, older than Cal-
lum, eh, and such a sweet lassie she was; how just
when they had landed in Canada she had married a
young Englishman who had come over with them on
the great ship; how they had left them in Toronto
when they came north to the forests of Oro ; how their
ANEWNAME 39
baby had come, the most beautiful baby, Granny's
little girl wrote, and how she had written also that
they, too, were coming north to live near the old folks
when, Granny's voice faltered, when the fever
came, and both Granny's beautiful little girl and her
Englishman died, and Grandaddy and Callum had
journeyed miles through the bush to bring Granny
her baby, and how Kirsty John's mother had carried
him all the way, and how he was all Granny had left
of her bright lass !
At the sound of grief in his grandmother's voice,
the child put up his hand to stroke her face, and
found it wet with tears. Instantly he forgot his
own trouble in sympathy for hers, and clasping his
hands about her neck he soothed her in the best way
he knew. He scarcely understood her grief; was
Granny crying because he was only an Englishman
after all? For to him, bereavement and death were
but names, and in the midst of abounding love he had
never realised the lack of parents.
He had often heard of them before, of his beautiful
mother, whose eyes were so dark and whose hair was
so curly like his own; and how his father had been
such a fine, big, young man, and a gentleman too,
though Scotty had often vaguely wondered just what
that meant. But that his parents had left him an
40 THE SILVER MAPLE
inheritance of a name and lineage other than Mac-
Donald he had never dreamed. And now there was
no denying the humiliating truth ; his father had been
an Englishman, he himself was English, and that dis-
graceful name, at which Peter Lauchie had sneered,
was his very own. Henceforth he must be an outcast
among the MacDonalds, and be classed with the
English crew that lived over on the Tenth, and whom,
everyone knew, the MacDonalds despised. Yes, and
he belonged to the same class as that stuck-up Cap-
tain Herbert, who lived in that grand house on the
north shore of Lake Oro, and whom his grandfather
hated !
He managed to check his tears by the time the
boys returned, but during prayers he crouched miser-
ably in a dark corner behind Hamish, a victim of
despair. He derived very little comfort from the
fact that Grandaddy was reading, " And thou shalt
be called by a new name " ; it seemed only an adver-
tisement of his disgrace. He wondered drearily who
else was so unfortunate as to be presented with one,
and if it would be an English name. And after-
wards, when they had gone up to the loft to bed, he
crept in behind Hamish, and cried himself to sleep
because of that, which, in after years, he always
remembered with pride.
m
WINNING HIS SPURS
The Saxon force, the Celtic fire,
These are thy manhood's heritage!
C. G. D. ROBERTS.
OLD IAN MCALLISTER, schoolmaster of
Section Number Nine, Oro, was calling
his flock into the educational fold. It was
no clarion ring that summoned the youths from the
forest, for the times were early and a settlement
might be proud to possess a school, without going to
the extremity of such foolishness as a bell, and Num-
ber Nine was not extravagant. But the schoolmas-
ter's ingenuity had improvised a very good substitute.
He stood in the doorway, hammering upon the door-
post with a long, flexible ruler, and making a per-
emptory clatter that echoed far away into the arches
of the forest and hastened the steps of any tardy
youths approaching from its depths. Good cause
they had to be expeditious, too, for well they knew,
did they linger, the master would be apt to resume
the bastinado upon their belated persons when they
41
42 THE SILVER MAPLE
did arrive. This original method had other advan-
tages, from the schoolmaster's point of view, for, as
his pupils crowded past him through the narrow door-
way, he had many a fine opportunity to transfer oc-
casional whacks to the heads of such boys, and girls,
too, as he felt would need the admonition before the
day was over, and who could not manage to dodge
him. So those approaching the school, even before
they came within sight of the place, could reckon ex-
actly the state of the master's temper, and the num-
ber of victims sacrificed thereto, by the intermittent
sounds of the summoning stick. Indeed, Number
Nine possessed an almost superhuman knowledge of
their master's mental workings. When he was
fiercest then they were most hopeful; for they knew
that, like other active volcanoes, having once in-
dulged in a terrible eruption he was not likely to
break forth again for some time. He was quite de-
pendable, for his conduct followed certain fixed rules.
First came about a fortnight of stern discipline and
faithful and terrifying attention to duty. During
this period a subdued and busy hum pervaded Num-
ber Nine and much knowledge was gained. For Ian
McAllister was a man of no mean parts, and, as the
trustees of the section were wont to boast, there was
not such another man in the county of Simcoe for
WINNING HIS SPURS 43
" bringing the scholars on when he was at it."
But the trouble was he could never stay " at it " very
long. A much more joyous, though less profitable,
season followed, during which the schoolmaster's en-
ergies were taken up in a bitter and losing fight with
an appetite for strong drink. Poor McAllister had
been intended for a fine, scholarly, upright character,
and he struggled desperately to maintain his in-
tegrity. But about once in two months he yielded
to temptation. During these " spells," as Number
Nine called his lapses from duty, he still taught, but
in a perfunctory manner, being prone to play prac-
tical jokes upon his pupils, which, of course, they
returned with interest. When he finally succumbed
in sleep, with his feet on the desk and his red spotted
handkerchief over his face, Number Nine took to the
bush and proceeded to enjoy life. That they did not
altogether give themselves over to unbounded riot
was due to the fact that the master's awakening might
occur at any moment. And well they knew he was
apt to come out of his lethargy with awful sudden-
ness, with a conscience lashing him for his weakness
and with a stern determination to work out tremen-
dous reparation for the lost hours.
But Number Nine suffered little from this change-
able conduct. They had studied their master so
44 THE SILVER MAPLE
faithfully that they could generally calculate what
would be the state of his temper at a given time, and
guided themselves accordingly. Indeed, Roarin'
Sandy's Archie, a giant MacDonald who had at-
tended every winter since the schoolhouse was built,
could tell almost to a day when the master was likely
to relax, and he acted as a sort of barometer to the
whole school.
But to-day McAllister showed no signs of relaxa-
tion as they dodged past him and scrambled into
their places. The room was soon filled, for the winter
term had commenced and all the big boys and girls of
the section were in attendance. The schoolroom was
small, with rough log walls and a raftered ceiling.
Down the middle ran a row of long forms for the
younger children, and along the sides were ranged a
few well carved desks, at which the elder pupils sat
when they wrote in their copy-books. At the end
nearest the door stood a huge rusty stove, always
red-hot in winter, and near it were a big wooden
water-pail and tin dipper. At the other end of the
room stood the master's desk, a long-legged rickety
structure, with a stool to match, from which lofty
throne the ruler of Number Nine could command a
view of his realm and spy out its most remote region
of insubordination. Behind him was the blackboard,
WINNING HIS'SPURS 45
a piece of sheep-skin used as an eraser, and an ancient
and tattered map of Europe.
Scotty was already in his place ; he had hurried to
his seat as soon as he arrived for fear someone might
ask him his name, and in dread lest he might be
claimed by those English boys from the Tenth, whom
his soul loathed.
He had started to school at a time when the several
nationalities that were being welded together to make
the Canadian race were by no means one, and he had
inherited all the prejudices of his own people. Num-
ber Nine was a school eminently calculated to keep
alive all the small race animosities that characterised
the times ; for English, Irish and Scotch, both High-
land and Lowland, had settled in small communities
with the schoolhouse as a central point.
The building was situated in a hollow made by a
bend in the Oro River ; to the north among the green
hills surrounding Lake Oro, was the Oa, a district
named after a part of Islay, and there dwelt the
Highlanders; all MacDonalds, all related, all tena-
ciously clannish, and all such famous warriors that
they had earned the name throughout the whole
County of Simcoe of the " Fighting MacDonalds,"
a name which their progeny who attended Number
Nine School strove valiantly to perpetuate.
46 THE SILVER MAPLE
From the low-lying lands at the south, a region
called the Flats, which sloped gently southward until
it sank beneath the blue waters of Lake Simcoe, came
the Irish contingent, always merry, always quarrel-
ling, and always headed by young Pat Murphy and
Nancy Caldwell, who were the chief warriors of the
section.
And over on the western plains that stretched away
from the banks of the Oro, on a concession locally
styled " the Tenth," lived a class of pupils whose
chief representative had been overheard by a High-
land enemy to say, as he named the forest trees along
his path to school, " That there's a hook, an' that
there's a hash, an' that there's a helm." Though the
youth bore the highly respectable and historic name of
Tommy Tucker, he was forever after branded as
" Hoak " Tucker, and his two innocent brothers were
dubbed, respectively, " Helm " and " Hash."
One more nationality was represented in Number
Nine, those who approached the school-house with
the rising sun behind them. They were Scotch to a
man ; what was more, they proclaimed the fact upon
the fence-tops and made themselves obnoxious to even
the MacDonalds, for after all they were only Low-
landers, and how could the Celt be expected to treat
them as equals?
WINNING HIS SPURS 47
When this heterogeneous assembly had all passed
under the rod and seated themselves, the master
tramped up to his desk and a solemn hush fell over
the room. This was remarkable, for unless McAllis-
ter was in an unusually bad humour Number Nine
buzzed like a saw-mill. But this morning the silence
was intense and ominous, and for a very good reason.
For only the evening before Number Nine had for
ones miscalculated their ruler's condition, and a
flagrant act of disobedience had been perpetrated.
McAllister had commanded that all fighting cease,
and in the face of his interdict the MacDonalds and
the Murphys, according to the established custom of
the country, had manfully striven to exterminate each
other. For between the Oa and the Flats there was
an undying feud; partly hereditary, and partly
owing to the fact that Pat Murphy considered it an
impertinence on the part of anyone to come from
the north when he chose to approach from the op-
posite direction.
During school-hours a truce was preserved, all fac-
tions being united against a common foe ; but as soon
as school was dismissed the lines of demarcation be-
came too obvious to be overlooked. The outlandish
Gaelic the MacDonalds spoke when among their
brethren, their irritating way of gathering clan-like
48 THE SILVER MAPLE
for the journey home, always aroused resentment in
the breasts of the assembling Murphy s. So, five
o'clock fights had long ago become one of the institu-
tions of the school, and in the winter when the big
boys were present the encounters were frequent and
sanguinary.
The schoolmaster objected to all strife in which he
had no part, and since the opening of the winter term
he had set his face like adamant against this interna-
tional warfare. But his opposition served only to
increase the ardour of the combatants. In vain he
scolded and thrashed. In vain he imprisoned the
Scots until the Hibernians had had a reasonable time
to make an honourable retreat. The liberated party
only waited behind stumps and fallen logs, with the
faithfulness of a lover to his tryst.
So at last McAllister arose in his might and an-
nounced that the next time such an affair occurred he
would thrash the leaders of each party within an inch
of their lives. On such occasions the schoolmaster
was not to be trifled with, and for a few days even the
Murphys were cowed.
But as time passed there grew up between the
belligerents a tacit understanding that just as soon as
the master entered upon a less rigid frame of mind
they would settle the fast accumulating scores.
WINNING HIS SPURS 49
So the night succeeding Scotty's first day ai
school they felt the time was ripe. Roarin' Sandy's
Archie assured all that a fight would be perfectly
safe. The master's tropical season was already over-
due some days, and on the morrow he was sure to be
jolly. So the forbidden campaign had opened just a
day too soon. It proved to be an Armageddon, too ;
Lowlander and Highlander, Sassenach and Hi-
bernian, they battered each other right royally, and
now here they were ranged before their judge to find
to their dismay that he was clear-eyed, clear-headed,
and ready to inflict upon the culprits the severest
penalties of the law.
The strange, tense atmosphere filled Scotty with
vague alarm. He felt that the air was pregnant with
disaster. Danny Murphy nudged him when the
master closed his eyes for prayer and whispered that
" Somebody was goin' to get an awful hidin', likely
the MacDonalds." Prayers were extremely lengthy,
always a bad sign, and Scotty felt his hair rise as at
their close the master banged his desk tid, and glared
fiercely about him. Perhaps McAllister was going to
thrash him for pretending he was a MacDonald, he
reflected fearfully.
The master lost no time in going straight to the
point, he knew his period of weakness was coming
50 THE SILVER MAPLE
over him with overwhelming rapidity; one more visit
to that which lay in his desk would, he knew, destroy
his judgment ; and struggling desperately to do what
he deemed right, he put his fists firmly upon the desk
lid as if to crush down the tempter and proceeded to
business.
" So, ye've been fighting again ! " he cried, fixing
the row of bigger boys with his eye. " Ye uncivilised
MacDonald pack, an' ye savage Murphy crew!
Tearin' at each other like wolves! Aye! Roarin*
an' rantin' an' ragin' like a pack o' blood-hounds!
Ah, ye're nothing but a pack o' savages ! Jist un-
civilised savages ! But Ah'll have no wild beasts in
my school. Ah'll teach ye! Ah'll take some o' the
fight out o' ye ! " He glared meaningly at Peter
Lauchie, one of the most bellicose Highlanders, but
that young man dodged cleverly behind Pat Mur-
phy's broad shoulders. " Ye'll think Ah'll not find ye
out? " the master shouted triumphantly. " But Ah'll
soon do that ! Aye, it was at the Birch Crick ye were
fightin' like a pack o' wild beasts ; ye thought ye were
far enough away to be safe. But Ah'll find out who
started it ! " His eye ranged quickly round the
room and fell upon Scotty, sitting open-mouthed
straight in front of him. McAllister was not above
extorting information from the younger pupils, and
WINNING HIS SPURS 51
Scotty went by the Scotch Line and could be made to
tell. " You, Ralph Stanwell ! " he cried, fixing the
boy with an admonitory finger. " Yon's your road.
Now, jist tell me all about this fight! "
Now, Scotty, in his eagerness to get home, had
taken the short road across the swamp and knew
nothing of the affray. But he scarcely heard the
master's question ; he had caught only that hateful
name, the name that made him an alien from the Mac-
Donalds and classed him with that baby, " Hash "
Tucker, who was even now weeping behind his slate
lest his big brother should be thrashed. Scotty's
face flushed crimson, his hands clenched.
" Are ye deef ? " roared the master. " Answer me
my question, Ralph Stanwell ! "
The boy leaped as if he had been struck. " That
will not be my name ! " he cried defiantly.
McAllister glared at him with wild bloodshot eyes ;
under other circumstances he would have been
ashamed of the part he was playing; but now his
nerves were raw and his temper was rendered wild by
his craving.
" Are ye ashamed o 5 yer name, ye young English
upstart? " he roared.
That opprobrious epithet " English " swept all
fear and discretion from Scotty's mind. " I'll not
52 THE SILVER MAPLE
be English!" he shouted back, "I'll be Scotch, an'
my name will jist be MacDonald, whatever! "
A low growl of approval came from the region of
the MacDonalds at the back of the school, and Peter
Lauchie MacDonald, who was Scotty's next of kin,
came out from behind Pat Murphy and snorted tri-
umphantly. The master reached out his powerful
arm and swept the boy up onto his desk, holding him
there in a terrible grip. " Ah'll MacDonald ye ! " he
shouted, shaking him to and fro. " Another Mac-
Donald to be a wild beast in the school ! Ah'll knock
the MacDonald out o' ye ! Ye young English wasp,
ye!"
Scotty's face was white; but he remembered Cal-
lum and held his lips firmly to keep from crying out.
Peter Lauchie half rose, " He'll be no more English
than you ! " he shouted. The master turned ; he was
facing rebellion. " Peter MacDonald," he said in a
low, thrilling tone, " you will go out and cut me a
stick, an' when Ah've taught this ill piece with it Ah'll
break it over your back ! "
Peter Lauchie's defiance melted in the white glare
of the master's wrath. He arose and stumbled sul-
lenly out of doors on his unpleasant errand. Scotty
had been placed in his especial care both by the boy's
grandmother and his own mother, and his soul writhed
WINNING HIS SPURS 55
under the master's command. Outside the door he
paused, weighing the chances of returning without
the weapon ; the master's tawse had been removed the
night before, and he might put off the day of judg-
ment until the judge collapsed. As he stood, miser-
ably irresolute, a low hiss sounded from beneath the
door. Roarin' Sandy's Archie had crept to it on all
fours. " Don't be hurryin' back," he whispered
eagerly, " I'll tell ye when to come ! "
Peter Lauchie stepped behind a hemlock and
peeped through the window. The first glance con-
vinced him of the wisdom of his friend's advice ; delay
was the watchword, for trouble had arisen in a new
quarter.
At one of the side desks near the platform sat
Nancy Caldwell. Nancy was the biggest girl in the
school and the only person in the township of Oro
whom old McAllister feared. She was a handsome
girl, belonging to one of the leading Protestant fam-
ilies of the Flats; she was bold and fearless and
had withal such a feminine ingenuity for inventing
schemes to circumvent the schoolmaster that he re-
garded her with something akin to superstitious awe.
Nancy had a big, Irish heart, and it swelled with
indignation when Scotty was put up for execution.
She shrewdly guessed that McAllister was nearing
54 THE SILVER MAPLE
the limit of his strength, and thought she might
try a tilt with him. So as he tramped angrily up and
down the platform, she reached out, when his back
was turned, and whisked the boy under her desk.
"Lie still!" she whispered. "Sure, I'll murder
him if he touches ye ! "
McAllister marched over to her, his arm raised
threateningly; the girl sat and stared coolly back.
For a moment the baffled man stood glaring at her.
He would rather have met all the big boys in con-
certed rebellion than Nancy Caldwell, and felt that
he must be fortified within before he could success-
fully combat her. He stepped up to his desk and
clutching a half -empty bottle from it, drained the
contents.
The tension of the school was immediately relaxed ;
the pupils nudged each other and giggled and Nancy
Caldwell laughed aloud and pulled Scotty out from
his hiding place.
As everyone expected, McAllister sank into his
chair and glared sheepishly about him, making a
desperate attempt to retain his dignity.
Peter Lauchie stepped out from his post of obser-
vation, with a light heart; and strolled off leisurely
in search of a weapon. Since the master was now on
his way to a better frame of mind, Peter was not
WINNING HIS SPURS 55
the one to retard his happy progress ; so he saun-
tered about, knowing that Roarin' Sandy's Archie
would summon him when the time was ripe.
His commander did not fail him. With the keen
eye of an old campaigner, Roarin' Sandy's Archie
saw the moment to strike. The master had worked
up a little energy and was again making for Nancy ;
now was the time to divert his attention ; he beckoned
to his henchman. As Peter Lauchie entered he
showed himself a worthy follower of a worthy
leader, for he strode solemnly up the aisle, dragging
in his wake a respectably-sized hemlock tree, the
branches of which swept up the floor and whipped
the boys and girls in the faces, evoking shrieks of
laughter. He paused before the master's desk and
solemnly handed him the sapling.
" Here's the switch to hide Scotty MacDonald,
sir," he said with great seriousness, and a fine em-
phasis on the name.
The master turned like an animal at bay, and the
school broke into a torrent of laughter. He grasped
the tree and raised it above his head. " Ah'll batter
the cursed impidence out o' ye, ye curse o' a Mac-
Donald ! " he roared, making a drive at the boy.
But Peter Lauchie knew that the master need not
now be taken seriously; he darted down the aisle,
56 THE SILVER MAPLE
McAllister after him, bearing his clumsy weapon,
and mowing down all within three yards of his path.
The boy leaped over the wood box, dodged round
the stove, upset the water pail over the girls and
came careering back.
Number Nine rose to the occasion; their year of
Jubilee, so long delayed, had come at last. The
boys joined in the chase, and soon the master became
the pursued as well as the pursuer. The girls shrieked
and fled to the wall, all except such amazons as Nancy
Caldwell and Roarin' Sandy's Teenie, who joined in
the race, materially assisting Peter by getting in
the master's way or catching hold of his flying
coat-tails.
The chase did not last long; the prey, exhausted,
fled out of doors and the master subsided into a
chair. He brought the school to some semblance of
order and made a feeble attempt at teaching. But
by the afternoon he was uproariously genial. He
spent an hour conducting a competition in which
the boy who could stand longest on the hot stove
received the highest marks, and finally went to sleep
with his feet on the desk and his red handkerchief
spread over his face.
But the affair was not without material benefit
to Scotty. In his gallant refutation of the charge
WINNING HIS SPURS 57
against him, and in the miraculous way he had
averted the master's vengeance, he had won a place
in the heart of every MacDonald. Thereafter, no
one outside the clan dared give him his English name,
and at last the fact that he possessed one almost
faded from his friends', as well as his own, mind.
IV
"CAPE CAN ADA
The ocean bursts in very wrath,
The waters rush and whirl
As the hardy diver cleaves a path
Down to the treasured pearl.
GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE.
THE days sped swiftly, and Scotty learned
many things both in and out of school.
In the latter department his chief instructor
was his nearest neighbour. Peter Lauchie was four-
teen, and a wonderful man of the world in Scotty's
eyes; but in spite of the great disparity of years
the two were much together. From his companion
Scotty learned many great lessons. The first and
cardinal principle laid down was that all who hailed
from the Oa must wage internecine war upon the
Flats and must despise and ignore all English and
Lowlanders. Another was that one might as well
make up one's mind to attend to business during Mc-
Allister's glacial period, but that, when a more genial
atmosphere pervaded the school, the farther one went
58
"CAPE CANADA" 59
in inventing new forms of mischief the more likely
was one to become a hero.
Peter Lauchie further explained that all Pat
Murphy's crew were nothing but Fenians. He pro-
nounced the evil word in a whisper, and added in a
more sepulchral tone that the Caldwell boys and a
lot more Irish from the Flats, yes, and " Hoak "
Tucker's people, too, were Orangemen. These ter-
rible disclosures filled Scotty with vague alarm ; for,
though he strove to keep his companionship a secret,
there could be no doubt that most of his time at
school was spent in the very pleasant company of
Danny Murphy and " Hash " Tucker ; and further-
more that, since the day she had saved him from old
McAllister's clutches, Nancy Caldwell had been the
bright, particular star of his existence. He had
no doubt that Nancy returned his devotion, either;
for she brought him big lumps of maple sugar and
the rosiest apples, and was always anxious that he
should share her cake. Of course, she was apt to
exact payment for these favours, and would chase
him all over the school and kiss him in spite of his
fiercest struggles. But, nevertheless, Nancy held
his heart. Surely she could not be anything very
wicked. Fenians he knew something about; the
Fenian Raids had been talked of in his home ever
60 THE SILVER MAPLE
since he could remember. Orangemen might not be
quite so bad. He made up his mind he would ask
Hamish all about it.
There was quite a little circle of friends about
the fire that evening; Long Lauchie MacDonald and
three of his grown-up sons had come over for a chat,
and of course Weaver Jimmie was there, having been
turned out of Kirsty John's house at the point of
the potato masher.
Like most of the Highlanders, Long Lauchie was
aptly described by his name. He was a tall, thin,
attenuated man. Everything about him seemed to
run to a point and vanish; his long, thin hands, his
flimsy pointed beard, even his long nose and ears
helped out his character. He rarely indulged in con-
versation, coming out of an habitual reverie only
occasionally to make a remark. Nevertheless he was
of a sociable turn and was often seen at Big Mal-
colm's fireside.
The company sat round in a comfortable, hump-
backed circle, emitting clouds of smoke and dis-
cussing the affairs of the Empire; for these men's
affections were still set on the old land, and that
which touched Britain was vital to them.
Then Old Farquhar started upon a tale, so long
and rambling that Rory took his fiddle and strummed
"CAPE CANADA" 61
impatiently in the background. Scotty understood
enough of Gaelic to gather that it was the story of
a beautiful maiden who had died that night when her
father and brother and lover lay slain in the bloody
massacre of Glencoe.
Impatient of the high-flown Gaelic phrases, Scotty
flew to Hamish, and his indulgent chum put aside
the book and told him the story, and why the Mac-
Donalds hated the name of Orange. Scotty went
back to the fire, his cheeks aflame with excitement.
Hereafter he would fight everything and anything
remotely connected with the name of Orange. See
if he wouldn't !
The conversation had turned to quite a different
subject. Weaver Jimmie had the floor now, and had
almost forgotten his embarrassing appendages in
the thrill of relating his one great story; the story
of how his brother fought the Fenians at Ridgeway.
" Eh, eh," sighed Long Lauchie, " it would maybe
be what the prophets would be telling, indeed, about
wars and rumours of wars ! "
For Long Lauchie not only saw sermons in stones,
and books in the running brooks, but discerned in
the everyday occurrences about him fulfilment of dire
prophecy.
"Hooch!" cried Big Malcolm, "I would rather
62 THE SILVER MAPLE
be having a Fenian raid any day than an Orangeman
living in the same township."
Long Lauchie sadly shook his head and went off
into a series of sighs and ejaculations, as was his
way, receding farther and farther until his voice
died away and he sat gazing into space.
" Aye, indeed, and mebby you'll be gettin' one,"
cried Weaver Jimmie, wagging his head. " Pete
Nash himself told me that Dan Murphy and that
Connor crew an' all them low Irish would be saying
at the corner the other night that they would jist
be gettin' up a Fenian Raid o' their own some o 5
these fine days, an' be takin' the Glen, whatever."
" Horo ! " Callum Fiach arose and came forward,
the joy of a conflict dancing in his eyes. " Hech,
but I wish they would ! "
" Whisht ye, Callum ! " cried his father sternly.
" Let the evil one alone. I'll have no son o' mine
mixin' with such goin's on ! "
The young man eyed his father laughingly.
" You'd stay at home if there was a Fenian Raid,
wouldn't you? " he asked teasingly.
Big Malcolm glanced uneasily towards his wife.
His was a hard position to fill amid the fighting Mac-
Donalds ; his whole life was a struggle between his
inherited tendencies and his religious convictions. He
"CAPE CANADA" 63
preached peace on earth and good will towards all
men; and believed implicitly that the meek should
inherit the earth; but his warlike spirit was always
clamouring to be up in arms, and sometimes, in spite
even of the strong influence of his wife, it broke all
bounds. He shook his head at his son's raillery and
made no reply. Not for a long time had he yielded
to temptation, but he felt it was not safe to boast.
" Well, if the Fenians ever come to take Canady
again, I hope I'll be there ! " cried Rory gaily, break-
ing into an old warlike Jacobite air.
Weaver Jimmie threw one leg over the other, with
great nonchalance. " They may take Canady, what-
ever ; but they'll not be taking Oro ! " he remarked
firmly.
" Kirsty '11 be lookin' after Oro ! " cried Callum.
" Losh, but she'd bang the senses out of the wildest
Fenian that ever grew, if she got after him ! "
" They didn't take much when they did come,"
said Long Lauchie's Hugh. " Only a few bullets.
Say, though, don't you wish you'd been there ? "
Scotty listened, his heart torn with conflicting
emotions. He wanted to fight the Fenians now, but
with Danny a Fenian, and Nancy and Hash Orange-
men, what would become of him? He guessed that
Callum had some scheme afoot and he kept close to
64 THE SILVER MAPLE
him all evening and heard him conferring with Long
Lauchie's boys in low tones. There was something
about the Murphys, and getting them stirred up,
and finally a compact to all be at the glen the fol-
lowing afternoon.
The next day Scotty used all his powers to effect
a journey to the glen, too. He had some difficulty,
however, for it was Saturday and Granny wanted him
with her; but by dint of assistance from Hamish
he accomplished his aim, and in the afternoon he
drove away on the front seat of the big sleigh be-
tween Grandaddy and Callum, full of exuberant joy.
The Glen was a small community at a bend in the
River Oro, just a mile east of the schoolhouse.
Though it was near his home, Scotty had not been
in it since he was a baby. He was wildly eager to
see the place. To him it was a great metropolis, for
it contained a tavern and a store, yes, and a real
mill where they made flour. And Hamish had prom-
ised to show him the great water wheel that made the
mill go, and they were to spend an hour at Thomp-
son's store, and most of all he was anxious to learn
the outcome of the boys' mysterious plans of the
night before.
The day was delightful, with all the world a gleam
of blue and silver, the glittering landscape softened
"CAPE CANADA" 65
here and there by the restful grey tints of the forest.
The blue skies with their dazzling white clouds, and
the shimmering white earth with its bright blue shad-
ows, were so bewilder ingly alike that one might well
wonder whether he was in heaven or on earth. The
air was electric, setting the blood tingling, and, as
the sleigh slipped along down the winding road that
led to the river, Scotty churned up and down on the
seat and could with difficulty restrain himself from
leaping out and turning somersaults in the snow.
The highway suddenly emerged from a belt of
pine forest and descended into a little round valley
made by the bend in the river. Here lay " the Glen,"
the central point of the surrounding communities.
Scotty grew quieter and his eyes bigger as the} 1
followed the winding steep road that led into its
depths. There was the mill by the river, giving out
a strange rumbling sound; and beside it the house
of old Sandy Hamilton, the miller ; and there, on the
northern slope of the river bank, was Weaver Jim-
mie's little shanty, with the loom clattering away
inside; and right at the corner stood Thompson's
store and opposite it Peter Nash's tavern.
So many houses all in one clearing ! Scotty could
scarcely believe his eyes. And yet the poor little
place had, after all, a greater importance than the
66 THE SILVER MAPLE
child could imagine. The Glen was to the grown
part of the community what the school was to the
younger portion. It lay within the boundaries of
the four different settlements, and as clearings began
to widen and social intercourse became easier, it had
gradually become a place where men met for mu-
tual help or hindrance, as the case might be. Here
the several nationalities mingled, and though they
did not realise the fact, here they were laying the
foundations of a great nation. Such a vast work
as this could scarcely be carried on without some
commotion; the chemist must look for explosions
when he produces a strange new compound from
diverse elements; and it was, therefore, no wonder
that the crucible in the valley of the Oro was often
the scene of much boiling and seething. Then the
tavern came, with its brain-destroying fire, and
sometimes after harvest, when the Fighting MacDon-
alds and the belligerent Murphys met before it, the
noise of the fray might be heard in the farthest-off
clearing of the Oa.
Scotty's eyes rested fearfully on the tavern. It
was a common log building, wider than the ordinary
ones and with a porch in front and a lean-to behind.
To the boy its appearance was a great surprise
and some disappointment. Grandaddy always spoke
"CAPE CANADA" 67
of it as " a den of iniquity " ; and Scotty's fancy
had pictured such a den as Daniel had been cast
into, which he had seen many times in Granny's big
Bible.
He was rather sorry they did not stop there, the
inside might be more romantic; but he soon forgot
it in the excitement of other scenes; for they went
to the mill and Sandy Hamilton, all floury and smil-
ing, took him down to where the water came thunder-
ing over the big wheel; and then, while the boys
went off with the team, Big Malcolm took his grand-
son to the most wonderful place yet, the store.
This was the most important place in the Glen,
and the man who kept it, James Thompson, or Store
Thompson, as the neighbours called him, was the
most important and influential member of the com-
munity. He was a fine, upright, intelligent man and
was known far and wide for his learning. He pos-
sessed a vocabulary of polysyllables that never failed
to confound an opponent in argument, and all the
township could tell how he once vanquished a great
university graduate, who was visiting Captain Her-
bert at Lake Oro. He was often identified by this
illustrious deed, and was pointed out to strangers
as, " Store Thompson, him that downed the Captain's
college man."
68 THE SILVER MAPLE
Big Malcolm and Store Thompson, though the
latter was a Lowlander, had been fast friends ever
since they had come to Canada. They were slightly
above the average pioneer in intelligence and had
many interests in common; so for this reason, as
well as a matter of principle, Big Malcolm avoided
the tavern and spent his leisure moments with his
friend.
As they entered, Store Thompson was busy
weighing out sugar for a customer, and glanced up.
He was a tall man, with a kind, intelligent face and
a high, bland forehead. He wore steel-rimmed spec-
tacles, but, when not reading, had them pushed up
to the scant line of hair on the top of his head, and
his pale blue eyes blinked kindly at all around. He
stopped in the midst of his calculations to welcome
his friends.
"Eh, eh, Malcolm, an' is yon yersel'?" he cried
heartily. " It's jist a lang, lang time since Ah
seen ye, man ; aye, an' it's the wee man ye hae. It's
a lang time since ye've been to the Glen; jist an
unconscionably lang time; aye, jist that, jist un-
conscionably like ! " He lingered over the word as
he shook hands, and then, after inquiring for the
wife and family, he turned his attention to Scotty,
remarked upon his wonderful growth, and his sturdy
"CAPE CANADA" 69
limbs, asked him how he was getting on at school and
if he could spell " phthisis."
Scotty hung shyly behind his grandfather, and as
soon as the host's attention was turned from him he
escaped. He seated himself carefully upon a box
of red herring, and his eyes wandered wonderingly
around the shop. It was a marvellous place for a
boy with sharp eyes and an inquiring mind. Down
one side ran a counter made of smoothed pine boards
and behind it rose a row of shelves reaching to the
raftered ceiling and containing everything the
farmers could need, from the glass j ar of peppermint
drops on the top shelf to the web of factory cotton
near the floor. The remaining space was crammed
with merchandise. There were boxes of boots, bales
of cloth, barrels of sugar and salt and kerosene,
kegs of nails, chests of tea and boxes of patent medi-
cines; and the combination of odours was not the
least wonderful thing in this wonderful museum.
Nothing escaped Scotty's eyes, from the festoons
of dried apples suspended from the dark raftered
ceiling to the pile of axe-handles on the floor in the
corner. He sat utterly absorbed, while his grand-
father and Store Thompson talked. There was much
to tell on one side, at least, for Store Thompson and
the schoolmaster took a weekly newspaper between
70 THE SILVER MAPLE
them, and it all had to be gone over, especially the
news from Scotland.
Store Thompson's wife, a bright, little red-cheeked
woman came hustling in to greet Big Malcolm, and
ask him in for a cup of tea. " Ah've had the Captain
an' his sister an' the wee leddy to denner," she
whispered proudly, " an' they'll jist be goin' in a
minit, an' ye'll come an' have a cup o' tea with
them, jist."
But Big Malcolm, who had arisen at her invita-
tion, suddenly sat down again. His face darkened,
and he stoutly refused the joint invitations of hus-
band and wife. Then the lady espied Scotty in his
corner, and bore down upon him; she secured a
handful of pink " bull's-eyes " from a jar behind the
counter, and slipped them into his chubby fist, patted
his curly head and declared he was " jist Callum
over again." And Scotty smiled up at her, well
pleased at being likened to his hero; but when she
caught his face between her hands and tried to kiss
him, he dodged successfully; for, now that he was
a big boy and going to school, not even Granny
might kiss him in public.
When she had trotted back to her guests in the
house, Scotty caught a few words of the conversation
that aroused his interest.
"CAPE CANADA" 71
-- Ye hae the boys in wi' ye the day, Malcolm? "
Store Thompson asked, with a note of anxiety in
his voice.
"Yes?" Big Malcolm looked up inquiringly.
" Oh, Ah suppose it's jist naething, jist a a
triviality, like ; but Ah see there's a great crood f rae
the Oa, the day, an* jist as many Murphy s an'
Connors ; an' Ah heerd a lot o' wild talk aboot
Fenians, an' the like. They would be sayin' Pat
Murphy was a Fenian ; an' that Tarn Caldwell would
be for sendin' him oot o' the Glen. Ah'm hopin*
there'll be nae trouble."
Big Malcolm's face was full of anxiety. " Indeed,
I will be hopin' so too," he said in an embarrassed
tone. " You will be knowin' my weakness. I would
not be hearin' about it. I hope the lads "
" Oh, Ah suppose it's jist naething," said Store
Thompson reassuringly. " Indeed it's yersel' that's
past all sich things as yon, Malcolm, never fear."
But Big Malcolm shook his head; for years he
had purposely avoided the Glen, to be out of the
way of temptation; for the sound of strife was to
him like the bugle call to a war charger. He
fidgeted in his seat and looked anxiously towards the
door.
Scotty went over to the window and stood watch-
72 THE SILVER MAPLE
ing the crowds of men come and go across the
street.
He could not quite make out what was going on,
but there seemed to be a great commotion, for a big
crowd of men had suddenly appeared from nowhere.
And there was Danny's father, and Nancy's father,
apparently having high words; and yes, there was
Callum right in the centre of the seething mass.
There were mingled cries of " Popery " and " Fe-
nians " and " Orangemen." Then suddenly above
the noise there came a roar, " The Oa ! The Oa !
MacDonald ! MacDonald ! "
" Grandaddy ! oh, Grandaddy ! " cried Scotty
shrilly, " they're killin' Callum, they're killin' Rory ! "
At the first sound of the MacDonalds' battle-cry
Big Malcolm raised his head like a stag who has
heard a challenge, and, at the boy's cry, he cleared
the intervening space with one bound, flung open
the door and shot out into the street.
" Malcolm, Malcolm ! " cried Store Thompson in
dismay, but Big Malcolm had heard the call to arms
and nothing in the township of Oro could hold him
back.
Scotty sprang to follow him, but Store Thompson
closed the door, and his wife, who had re-entered, put
her arms about the boy and drew him back.
"CAPE CANADA" 73
"Ye mustna gang oot there, ma lad," said the
storekeeper. " Yon's no place for a child ; aye,"
he added, " an' no place for yer grandfather
either!"
" Lemme go ! " shouted Scotty, struggling equally
with his captor and his sobs. " They 're killin'
Rory ! Lemme go ! "
" Yer Grandaddy said ye were to bide here, laddie,
mindye ! " cried Store Thompson's wife soothingly.
At the reminder of his grandfather's commands
Scotty collapsed. He retired to the window once
more, bathed in tears of helpless rage. But another
shout from the MacDonalds sent him flying again,
to the door, where he once more encountered the
ample skirts of his keeper.
" Ah'd niver look Marget Malcolm in the face
again, Jeames, if onything happened the bairn," she
cried, struggling with Scotty's sturdy muscles. " He
maun jist bide! "
" What in heaven's name is the matter with that
child ? " demanded a laughing voice from the rear
of the shop. " Has he an attack of spasms ? "
Scotty stopped struggling and looked up. In
his absorption over the battle outside he had not
noticed that three strangers had entered the shop
with Store Thompson's wife, and he drew back
74 THE SILVER MAPLE
abashed. The speaker was a short, well-built man
under middle age, with an air and appearance quite
different from the rough exterior of Scotty's own
people. There was a look of command in his merry
blue eyes and an air of superiority in his straight,
trim figure, that impressed the child. The other two
strangers stood back by the stove; one, a tall lady,
the rustle of whose black silk dress gave Scotty a
feeling of awe, the other a tiny girl, so wrapped up in
furs and shawls that he could see nothing of her, ex-
cept a bunch of golden curls.
" What's the matter with the confounded little
fire-eater? " asked the man, coming forward.
" It's all his kin that's in yon fecht oot by, sir,"
said Store Thompson's wife apologetically. " The
puir wee mannie ! "
" Oh, I see ; he's starting early. I never come to
the Glen but you entertain me with a battle, James.
A bad crowd, those fellows from the Flats. What's
your name, youngster ? Murphy, eh ? "
" NO ! " Scotty shouted the refutation in indig-
nant horror. This was worse than being English!
"It wiUbeMacDonald!"
" Oh, by Jove, one of the Fighting MacDonalds ! "
The man burst into a hearty laugh. " I might have
known."
"CAPE CANADA" 75
" But yon's not yer real name, laddie," said Store
Thompson's wife. " Tell Captain Herbert yer name ;
it's jist a fine one. He's Big Malcolm MacDonald's
grandson, Captain, but his faether was an English
gentleman, like yersel, an' his mither was a bonny,
bonny bit lassie ; aye, an' puir Marget lost her."
The man was gazing down at the boy absorbedly.
" What's his name? " he demanded sharply. But
Scotty stood silent and scowling. Confess his dis-
grace to this man whom he knew Granddaddy de-
spi^ed? Never!
" His patronymic," said Store Thompson cere-
moniously, " is Stanwell, Captain ; and his baptismal
name is jist the same as his father's was, Ralph
Everett ; Ralph Everett Stanwell ! "
When Store Thompson delivered himself of any
such high-sounding speech he was always rewarded
by signs of a deep impression made upon his hearers.
He had come to look for such results; but he was
totally unprepared for the expression of aghast won-
der that his words produced in the face of Captain
Herbert.
"Stanwell!" he cried, "Ralph Stanwell!" He
glanced hurriedly at the two standing at the other
end of the shop and an expression of relief passed
over his face when he saw the tall lady was not
76 THE SILVER MAPLE
attending. " It can't be ! " he said, lowering his tone,
" Captain Stan well's child died with the parents ! "
" No, sir," said Store Thompson wonderingly.
" Big Malcolm an' his son brought him from Toronto
when he was jist an infant."
The man still stood gazing down at the boy.
Scotty's face was dark with anger. Store Thomp-
son, who pretended to be his grandfather's friend,
to publish his disgrace before these strangers! It
was unbearable ! " I'll not be English," he muttered.
"I'll jist be Scotch, an' my name's MacDonald!"
He clenched his fists and wagged his curly head
threateningly. " He must be right," said the man
eagerly. " He should certainly know."
Store Thompson shook his head smilingly. " He
lives in the Oa, sir," he confided in a low tone, " an'
he wants to be a MacDonald. But yon's his name,
nevertheless ! "
Captain Herbert turned away abruptly, as though
he had not heard. " Eleanor, I shall be ready almost
immediately," he said to the lady in the silk gown,
and, with a hasty good-bye, he stepped outside, Store
Thompson following. Scotty slipped out behind
them; the fight was over, the Murphys and their
friends were evidently retreating. He could see his
grandfather's tall, commanding form in the midst
"CAPE CANADA" 77
of a victorious crowd. He drew a great breath of
relief. As he stood gazing proudly at them, he felt
his hand touched gently by little, soft, gloved fin-
gers. He wheeled round to find a pair of big, blue
eyes looking at him from out of the coquettish rim
of a fur-trimmed hood. The eyes were very sympa-
thetic. " I'm Scotch, too," came in a whisper from
inside the wrappings, " an' it's nice to be Scotch,
isn't it? "
Scotty's heart opened immediately ; here was some-
one who evidently believed in him.
" But but, won't you be Captain Herbert's little
girl? " he asked, wonderingly.
" Yes," she answered with a baby-lisp, that made
him feel very big and superior. " He's my uncle
Walter; but my mamma was Scotch, an' my name's
Isabel Douglas Herbert, an' Uncle Walter says I'm
his Scotch lassie ! "
" Oh ! " Scotty looked at her with new interest.
" An' you're Kirsty John's little girl, too, ain't
you?"
"Yes," she cried delightedly. "Do you know
Kirsty?"
" Yes."
" Oh, an' Gran'mamma MacDonald? An' Weaver
Jimmie? "
78 THE SILVER MAPLE
"Oh, yes!"
" I love Jimmie ; he tells lovely stories when I
go to see Kirsty, 'bout fairies, an' an' everything.
Do you know any stories? "
A silken rustle in the doorway made Scotty draw
back. " Come, Isabel," said the tall lady. She was
a very pale lady, with a haughty, weary look in her
eyes; and Scotty wondered how the little girl could
catch hold of that silk dress so fearlessly.
" Goo-bye," she said, pausing a moment. " Goo-
bye, little boy." She poked the fur-lined hood very
close to his face, and Scotty drew back in alarm for
fear she might be going to kiss him. The little girl
looked disappointed, nevertheless she smiled radiantly.
" I like you," she whispered, " an' I'm comin' to visit
you next time I go to Kirsty's ; goo-bye ! "
She danced off towards the sleigh, and was bundled
in among the warm robes. She waved her hand to
Scotty as they dashed away, and turned back to
gaze at him standing on the step.
" Man," said Store Thompson, stamping the snow
from his feet as he entered, " Ah niver saw the Cap-
tain act like yon before. He was jist, aye, he
was jist what Ah would call inimical; aye, jist in-
imical, like!"
Stpre Thompson was more perturbed over the
"CAPE CANADA" 79
hearty Captain's strange behaviour than he was over
the commotion that had just taken place at his door.
Such affairs were of too frequent occurrence to call
for comment. But when Big Malcolm returned for
Scotty, the fierce heat of the conflict still blazed in
his eyes and his friend suddenly remembered what
had happened.
" Eh, Malcolm, Malcolm, Ah'm sorry for this ! "
he cried. " These fichts are no work for a Chreestian
man!"
" And would I be sitting here, James Thompson,
an' see that piece o' Popish iniquity kill my son?"
demanded Big Malcolm fiercely.
Store Thompson held up his hands. " What,
what? " he cried, " would it be the Murphys and the
MacDonalds again ? "
" It was a Fenian raid, James ! " shouted Tom
Caldwell, coming up to the sleigh, with a proud swag-
ger, " an' Malcolm here was helpin' us Orangemen
put it down, sure ! "
Weaver Jimmie, his diffidence all vanished, threw
his cap into the air and shouted his old shibboleth,
;< They may take Canady, but they'll not be taking
Oro!"
"The Orangemen '11 kape Canada!" cried Tom
Caldwell reassuringly.
80 THE SILVER MAPLE
" Hoh, him an' his ' kape Canada,' " cried Callura
Fiach in disgust, as he pitched himself into the sleigh.
" Let's get out o' this ! "
" Eh, eh ! " cried Store Thompson, standing in the
doorway to see them depart, "ye MacDonalds are
aye too ready wi' the neeves ! "
Big Malcolm took the reins and drove away with-
out another word. The joy of battle was always
succeeded by a season of depression. His old friend's
reproof had already begun to work repentance in his
breast.
The homeward drive was silent and gloomy. Even
Callum forbore to talk; for he was uncomfortably
conscious that he had had more to do with setting
the Orangemen and the Catholics against each other
than he would like Big Malcolm to know. He had
not foreseen that all the MacDonalds would plunge
into it, and his father with them, and was rather
uneasy at the havoc he had caused. For this would
bring sorrow upon the mother at home.
But Scotty could not be silent, he was alive with
curiosity; and, taking advantage of his grand-
father's gloomy absorption, he crept out from be-
tween the two on the front seat, and got close to the
source of all knowledge, Hamish.
He overflowed with questions. Why should the
"CAPE CANADA" 81
MacDonalds be helping Orangemen? And hadn't
Hash Tucker's father and a lot more from the Tenth
been on their side, too? And how in the name of
all nationalities did it happen that the Caldwells and
the Tuckers came to be fighting together against
the Murphy s? And weren't Orangemen far worse
than Fenians, anyway?
The confusion in Scotty's mind was like that which
befell the builders of the Tower of Babel; and for
once Hamish failed to satisfy him. He seemed rather
ashamed of the fact that they had helped a Caldwell
in battle, and was rather inclined to drop the subject.
That evening at home was something new to
Scotty. A gloomy silence pervaded the place, and
there was a look in Granny's eyes that made the
boy want to put his head into her lap and cry.
There were no prayers before they retired, either;
there always came a stage in Big Malcolm's re-
pentence which consisted almost entirely of religious
exercises, but that was not yet.
Scotty felt vaguely that there was something ter-
ribly wrong, for the boys, even Hamish, went off
after supper, and Old Farquhar did not sing his ac-
customed song before retiring. And when Scotty
went up to bed in the loft he left Granny praying
by the bed in the corner, and he could hear the steady
82 THE SILVER MAPLE
tramp, tramp of his grandfather's feet up and down
in the snow outside. He half woke late in the night
and found that Hamish was beside him; the prob-
lems of the day were still troubling his dreams.
" Hamish," he whispered, " where's Cape Can-
ady?"
" What ? " growled Hamish sleepily.
"Where's Cape Canady? Tom Caldwell said
somethin' about it, an' the Master learned the Fourth
Class all about capes yesterday, an' he wouldn't be
saying anything about that one ! "
But Hamish was snoring; and outside the steady
tramp, tramp of feet went up and down in the
snow. '
THE REFORMATION
O strong hearts, guarding the birthright of our glory,
Worth your best blood this heritage that ye guard!
These mighty streams resplendent with our story,
These iron coasts by rage of seas unjarred
What fields of peace these bulwarks will secure!
What vales of plenty these calm floods supply!
Shall not our love this rough, sweet land make sure,
Her bounds preserve inviolate, though we die?
C. G. D. ROBERTS.
THE fathers of the Scottish settlement were
gathered about the stove in Store Thomp-
son's shop. This emporium was a respect-
able rival of Pete Nash's tavern across the way. Any-
one, weary of the noise and wrangling which char-
acterised that lively establishment, might step across
to Store Thompson's haven and find rest and quiet,
a never-failing hospitality and a much better social
atmosphere. To-night the company represented the
best the settlement could produce, several of the Mac-
Donalds and a few of the inhabitants of the Glen.
Big Malcolm was among them. It was his first
84 THE SILVER MAPLE
visit to the Glen since the day of his disgrace, and
he had not yet quite recovered his old genial spirits.
One small lamp burned dimly on the counter and
the forms of boxes and barrels loomed up fantas-
tically in shadowy corners. In the circle about the
stove the men's faces shone out spectrally from the
cloud of smoke produced by some half-dozen pipes.
As usual, Store Thompson was taking the lead
in the conversation. He stood leaning over the coun-
ter in the little ring of light, his spectacles pushed
up on his benign-looking forehead, his finger-tips
brought carefully together. In company with the
schoolmaster, Store Thompson had begun his win-
ter's course of reading and was more than usually
oratorical.
" Aye," he was saying, " a dictionary *s a graund
institution; aye, jist a graund institution, like.
When me an' the master now meets a word we dinna
ken, we jist run him doon in the dictionary, an' there
he is, ye see ! "
" Oh, books will be fine things," said Big Mal-
colm, "but that Hamish of ours will jist be no use
when he will be getting his nose into one, whatever.
And he will be making the wee man jist as bad. Eh,
it's him that'll make the reader ! " His eyes shone
as they always did at any mention of his grandson.
THE REFORMATION 85
"Aye, Hamish is the man for the books!" cried
Store Thompson enthusiastically. " How is he get-
tin' on wi' Ivanhoe? "
" Och, he would be finishing it the night after he
brought it home, indeed; and now the little upstart
will be trying his hand at it whatever."
" Feenishin' it in twa nichts ! " cried Store Thomp-
son, aghast at such extravagance. " Hut, tut ! yon's
no way to use a book. When me an* the wife read
Ivanhoe last winter, we jist read a wee bit at a time
for fear it wouldna last ; it wes that interestin'. Aye,
books is too scarce to be used yon way."
" And what will you and the master be reading,
this winter, James ? " inquired Long Lauchie, who
had just returned from one of his mental excursions.
Store Thompson's face beamed. " Eh, it's a
graund book this time, Lauchie, jist an Astronomy,
like."
" Eh, losh, an' what would it be about? "
" All aboot the stars, aye an' the moon an' the
constellations, like."
" Eh, eh ! " Long Lauchie was very much impressed.
"And would it be telling about the comets, what-
ever ? "
Store Thompson stood erect and put his finger
tips together.
86 THE SILVER MAPLE
" A comet," he declared solemnly, " a comet,
Lauchlan, so far as Ah can mak' oot frae the book,
is jist naething more nor less than an indestructible,
incomprehensible combustion o' matter; aye, jist that,
like."
There was an impressive silence. When Store
Thompson took his flights through the vast spaces
of knowledge he was always hard to follow, but when
he soared to the heights of astronomy the district
fathers felt him to be unapproachable.
" ' Seek Him that maketh the seven stars and
Orion.' ' The silence was broken by a deep, rolling
voice; a voice so powerful that even when softened,
as it now was, it gave the impression of vast possibili-
ties. The speaker was like his voice, huge and strong ;
the thick, waving hair covering his massive head,
and his bushy beard were a dark iron-grey, which,
with his strong features and bristling eyebrows, gave
him the appearance of a man carved from iron. It
was Praying Donald, the earliest pioneer of the Oa,
and the most pious man in many settlements.
" * Seek Him that maketh the seven stars and
Orion,' that will be the word of the Holy Book,
and it will be a poor thing to be seeking the stars
fiust."
Every eye was turned upon the speaker. Praying
THE REFORMATION 87
Donald was a man who spoke seldom, but when he did
everyone listened.
" Yes, indeed, it is the Word of Jehovah we should
be reading," he continued, " for I would be reading
last night, and the Lord would be speaking to me
1 through the Word, and it was, ' Blow ye the trum-
pet in Zion. . . . Let all the inhabitants of the
land tremble, for the day of the Lord cometh, for it
is nigh at hand; a day of darkness and gloominess
and of thick darkness.' And it will be this land
that it will be coming upon. For there will be the
drink and the fighting, and there will be no minister,
and no house of the Lord, for we will be in the gall
of bitterness and in the bonds of iniquity.
" Yes, we must be praying, praying night and
day, and maybe that the Lord in His mercy will be
sending us a minister; for if He will not be visit-
ing us in His mercy, He will be coming in His
wrath, and who shall stand in the day of His judg-
ment? "
Weaver Jimmie flung one leg over the other nerv-
ously. Long Lauchie sighed, and Store Thompson
murmured, " Undeniable, undeniable." But Big Mal-
colm sat staring at the speaker as if fascinated.
Praying Donald's life of stern piety, and his knowl-
edge of the laws governing human action, had often
88 THE SILVER MAPLE
enabled him to foresee events, and had given him the
reputation of a prophet. The memory of the scene
in which he had so lately taken part came over Big
Malcolm with overwhelming force.
" It is the true word," he whispered, as though
smitten with a sudden fear. " Och, and it will be
Malcolm MacDonald that will be visited in wrath for
his sins, whatever 1 '
" Ye're richt, Donald," said Store Thompson, at
length, " what wi' the whuskey an' the wild goin's
on this place is jist in a bad state. But it's thae
Eerish. Man," he continued emphatically, " thae
Eerish, whether Catholic or Protestant, are jist a
menace to the country, aye, jist yon, jist a menace,
like!"
" It is the Oa that will be as bad as the Flats,"
said Praying Donald relentlessly. " They will be
forsaking their God and be following after their own
evil desires ! "
Long Lauchie suddenly opened his eyes. He was
in the habit of seizing upon a remark and retiring
with it slowly, repeating it over and over in a les-
sening whisper until he was lost in the echoing cav-
erns of imagination, and was wont to emerge from
these absent fits suddenly with the air of a diver who
comes to the surface with a great treasure. He
THE REFORMATION 89
came to life at this moment, his eyes wide open, his
manner alert : " Eh, it will be a fulfilment o' the
prophecy o' Jeremiah, ' Out of the north an evil shall
break forth upon all the inhabitants of the land.'
Eh, eh, out o' the north the north it would per-
haps be meaning the Oa," he whispered fearfully to
Weaver Jimmie. " Out of the north the north "
His voice gradually died away and he was lost in
meditation.
" This place is not like the auld land," said old
Sandy Hamilton, moodily. " Man, we werna both-
ered wi' ony Fenians, nor Orangemen, nor sik like
there!"
" Times'll be better now the Murphys know their
place," said Weaver Jimmie confidently, pitching one
leg over the other. " Callum led a fine charge. The
Fenians may take Canady, but they'll not "
" Hooch ! " Big Malcolm broke in fiercely.
Weaver Jimmie did not properly belong either by
age or sentiments to this gathering, and his remark
regarding Callum was very much out of place. " Yon
son o' mine will jist be a breeder o' mischief in this
place, James MacDonald ! " he cried, " an' it's little
check you will be on him, whatever. It is high time,
indeed, that ye were both settlin' down an' stoppin*
such doings ! But och, och," he added with a sudden
90 THE SILVER MAPLE
change of tone, " it is myself will be the worst of them
all.''
Weaver Jimmie heaved a sentimental sigh. " It
will not be any fault of mine that I will not be set-
tled down," he muttered gloomily.
Praying Donald's rumbling voice had arisen again.
"Yes, oh yes, the evil will be growing; and the
Judge will be coming in His wrath and we will jist
be like Sodom and Gomorrah ! "
"Oh, indeed," broke in Store Thompson, "the
good Lord is slow to anger and of great mercy, Don-
ald, ye mind ! "
" Mercy ! " roared Praying Donald. " Eh, James,
do not be deceiving yourselves ! He will be just. We
must be reaping what we sow. This place is sowing
the wind and it will be reaping the whirlwind. ' For
I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the
iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the
third and fourth generation of them that hate me.' '
Long Lauchie came suddenly to the surface, this
time with a precious pearl : " And showing mercy
unto thousands," he continued softly. " Oh, yes, in-
deed and indeed, unto thousands, mercy unto thou-
sands ! " He sank again into the ocean of his imagi-
nation, and the tide of conversation flowed over him
unheeded.
THE REFORMATION 91
" * Visiting the sins of the father upon the chil-
dren,' " repeated Big Malcolm bitterly. He dropped
his head into his hands and groaned.
There was a long silence. These men were facing
a great problem in the building up of this new nation,
one which presented graver difficulties than they had
met even in the toil and stress of breaking the for-
est. In the early days the social problem had not
arisen; the settler had been too busy to permit of
its troubling him. He needed all his time and strength
to battle with this new land and compel her to give
him his due of bread and shelter. But now, the
stern young stepmother was yielding to those whom
she recognised as worthy to be her sons, and was re-
warding them with wider pasture-lands and waving
fields of grain. Now the pioneer found time to draw
breath and look about him. All through the years of
weary hardship, homesickness for the old land had
been heavy on his heart and his love for it had grown.
And now, with some time for sentiment and reflection,
he found his thoughts turning thither ; old loves were
re-awakened, old traditions revived, old enmities
fanned into flame. The still wild stretches of forest
called on all sides for wild, free action; the wind
swept down over the Oro hills, straight from the vast
expanse of the Great Lakes, setting the blood leap-
92 THE SILVER MAPLE
ing for vigorous action. Little wonder, then, that
in their first days of leisure men should go a few steps
farther back towards the savage stage from which
we are all such a short distance removed. And little
wonder, too, that the wiser ones trembled lest their
new land of promise, now so smiling, so prodigal
of her favours, might be scarred with the marks of
evil.
And so, these simple seers, these men, ignorant
in the world's wisdom, but many of them secure in
the knowledge of One, whom to know is life eternal,
turned in their fear and perplexity to the fountain-
head of righteousness.
" We must be having a prayer meeting, lads," said
Praying Donald at length. "We could be having
them all this winter, once a week, and maybe the good
Lord will be sending us a minister."
" Eh, if we could get a meenister like auld Angus
McGregor! " said Store Thompson. " Ah jist heerd
him once, but it was a veesitation, aye, jist a veesita-
tion, like. D'ye mind yon sermon, Lauchie, on ' Si-
mon Peter, lovest thou me'?"
Long Lauchie awoke from his reverie with a start.
The mention of the great Scottish preacher set going
a train of tender memories. " Eh, Mr. McGregor ! "
he cried, " Mr. McGregor, eh, there will not be
THE REFORMATION 93
such men nowadays I will be fearing. He was the
man of God, indeed yes oh, yes "
And as he faded away into the distance, the others
made the necessary arrangements. They would hold
a series of prayer meetings in the Oa and the Glen
to last during the winter. Store Thompson made
a feeble suggestion that they might join the Metho-
dists, Tom CaldwelPs faction in the Flats. For Tom,
who was as active at wrestling in prayer as in any
other sphere, in company with the population of the
Tenth, had secured the services of a primitive Metho-
dist preacher, and was holding nightly meetings in
the schoolhouse, where much good was done. But
the noisy devotions of the Flats met with little favour
in the sight of the Oa. Praying Donald, conscious
of the purity of their motive, had visited the Metho-
dists once, and had now little to say in commendation.
" They will be doing the best they know, James,"
he declared, " but the Lord will be taking no pleas-
ure in tumult and confusion, and we will jist be
holding our meetings at the neighbours' houses,
whatever."
And so the first meeting was arranged to be held
at Long Lauchie's, and, before parting, the little
group knelt about the boxes and bales, and in low,
solemn tones like the breaking of waves on a rocky
94 THE SILVER MAPLE
shore, Praying Donald besought the Eternal Father
for a blessing on this new land and an instilling of
the righteousness that exalteth a nation.
The news of the meeting was spread through the
community, chiefly by Weaver Jimmie; and was re-
ceived with much thankfulness by most of the people,
who had been longing all the days of their exile for
something resembling the church services of the old
land.
When the night of the first meeting arrived, Scotty
was in a state of carefully subdued excitement. He
knew by his grandfather's manner that the occasion
was one calling for solemnity of demeanour; but he
could not help feeling very much worked up over
the thought of going away from home after dark;
it made one feel almost as big and important as
Callum. He could scarcely believe his senses when
they covered the fire, closed the door and all drove
away in the big sleigh. Granny sat on the front seat
beside Grandaddy, another strange circumstance,
for Granny never went anywhere either by day or
by night, except when a neighbour was sick. Scotty
further emphasised his grown-up feeling by sitting
behind with the boys; they conversed in low tones,
and Callum said he'd " a good mind to skedaddle
off into the bush." But they were unusually quiet.
THE REFORMATION 95
Rory even forbore to whistle, and the boy found he
had to amuse himself by peering into the silent black-
ness of the pine forest, or gazing up at the strip of
clear star-spangled heavens that shone between the
lines of trees.
Long Lauchie's house, which stood on a hill at the
end of a very long lane, was brightly lighted and
very silent. This last fact was worthy of note, for
what with the misdemeanours of Long Lauchie's own
sons, and the assistance they received from Big Mal-
colm's boys, the place had long been a rival of Pete
Nash's establishment for noise, though, happily, it
was of a much more innocent character.
The room they entered, kitchen, dining-room and
living-room, was furnished, like all the pioneers'
homes, with the plainest necessities; but Long
Lauchie's family had grown-up girls in it, and the
place showed the touch of their fingers ; a few bright
rugs on the floor, and on the wall some pictures in
homemade frames. Then there were some oil lamps,
replacing the candles, and the house was so far in
the van of progress as to possess a stove, which added
not a little to the comfort, and detracted much from
the picturesqueness, of the room.
The family consisted of a troop of boys and girls,
all ages and sizes, from big, six-foot Hector to little
96 THE SILVER MAPLE
tangle-haired Betty. They were already gathered,
and several of the neighbours' families had arrived
and were seated on the improvised benches along the
wall. There were Praying Donald's family, Store
Thompson and his wife, several others representative
of the Oa and the Glen, and, of course, Weaver
Jimmie.
Jimmie's face shone with soap and excitement, and
his manner was a series of embarrassed convulsions;
for Kirsty John, the cruel object of his hopeless
love, was there. A fine, big, strapping young woman
she was, with a strong face, and a pair of fearless,
black eyes. She sat bolt upright against the log
wall, talking to Mary Lauchie, a sweet, pale-faced
girl; and occasionally casting a withering glance
in the direction of the bench behind the stove, where
the Weaver was alternately striving to efface himself
and to attract her attention.
Scotty soon managed to slip away from his grand-
mother, and join Betty and Peter in a corner. He
found them in the same state of subdued excitement
as he was himself. Peter informed him in a joyous
whisper that there was a big cheese in the cupboard,
and a johnny cake and blackberry preserves for the
visitors, before they left. Scotty's interest in this
delightful disclosure did not prevent his noticing
THE REFORMATION 97
Callum's entrance. Callum had gone with Hector
to put up the team and now came marching in, the
object of many admiring glances.
He displayed none of Weaver Jimmie's diffidence;
but went straight over to where Mary Lauchie sat,
and whispered in her ear, and Mary flushed and
smiled and her plain face grew quite pretty. Even
Kirsty was gracious to the handsome youth, and poor
Jimmie nearly twisted his neck out of joint in his
jealous efforts to do something commendable in her
sight.
But all sounds were suddenly hushed, for Praying
Donald was rising to announce the first psalm:
44 1 waited for the Lord my God,
And patiently did bear,
At length to me He did incline
My voice and cry to hear."
His deep, rumbling voice had just completed the
first few lines when he was interrupted by a clatter
of bells. The door swung suddenly open, and, to the
amazement of all the assembled Scots, in stalked Tom
Caldwell with his wife and family !
The appearance of the leader of Methodism in the
stronghold of the Presbyterians was naturally unex-
pected; but Tom Caldwell had been very friendly
98 THE SILVER MAPLE
with the MacDonalds since the day they " cleared
the Glen of Popery," as he said, and hearing that
they were about to imitate the Flats in having a
season of prayer, had journeyed all the way to the
Oa, resolved to give the neighbours a helping hand
in the good work, and infuse a little life and fire into
'
the dead bones of Presbyteriamsm.
The leaders arose and shook hands with the new-
comer solemnly, but heartily ; while Long Lauchie's
wife and daughters welcomed the family.
" Sure, it's the right track ye're on, Donald ! "
cried Tom Caldwell heartily, as he seated himself
and gazed happily about him ; " the Glen's gettin'
to be like Sodom, that's what it is, an' it's mesilf that
couldn't be lettin' the matin' pass widout comin' up
an' givin' ye a helpin' hand. We'll bring down a
blessin', glory be; so let's jist fire ahead an' have
a rousin' time ! "
The MacDonald brethren looked at each other
rather aghast. Tom CaldwelPs fervour, though well-
meant, was a foreign element, savouring of irrever-
ence and Methodistic confusion ; but his hearty good
will was irresistible ; Long Lauchie gave him the
place of honour next to the leader, and the meeting
commenced.
Scotty scarcely heard the words of the psalm, for
THE REFORMATION 99
to his delight he found that Nancy had come, too,
and was there seated beside her mother. In spite
of the fact that Nancy was Irish and tainted with
Orange sentiments, Scotty had found it impossible
to tear her from his heart. He had long since made
up his mind that when he grew big he would go to
see her instead of Betty in the evenings. He won-
dered what Callum would think of her, and glanced
up to see that young man staring with all his might
at the subject of his thoughts. Nancy was certainly
worth a stare ; in spite of the fact that she was still
at school, she was quite one of the young ladies of
the Flats, and when occasion demanded could de-
port herself quite becoming the name. Her black,
curly hair was tied up with a scarlet ribbon that
matched her cheeks, her eyes were Irish blue, limpid
and dancing, and she had a dimple in the centre of
her saucy chin.
Seeing Callum so absorbed, Scotty slid softly up
to him. " That's Nancy ! " he whispered proudly.
" Is it? " said Callum, with an air of surprise.
"Where?"
" Why, there beside Granny, where you're lookin'.
Ain't she pretty?"
" Oh, I guess so." Calhyn showed an indifference
that greatly disappointed his nephew. Probably,
100 THE SILVER MAPLE
though, he considered, Callum would not think of
admiring an Irish girl.
At that moment the girl raised her eyes and
glanced in their direction. She encountered Scotty's
eager gaze, and returned it with a brilliant, laughing
glance ; then her eyes met Callum's and she instantly
turned away with a coquettish toss of her head.
Scotty felt she surely might have smiled at Callum,
too. He glanced up at the young man again and
was rather troubled. He was sure Callum must be
very angry at either him or Nancy, for he had never
seen his face get red like that unless he were in a
rage.
But, meantime, Praying Donald had finished the
interrupted psalm and Roarin' Sandy had started
the tune. The elder men caught it up, then the
women, and lastly the young men about the stove,
and the song swelled out slow and solemn, the deep,
full-chested notes rolling out into the winter night
where the glittering stars and the solemn, silent forest
seemed to give back in grand reverberations the
words :
" He put a new song in my mouth
Our God to magnify!"
In the hush that followed, Praying Donald read a
chapter from the Holy Word, read it in tones that
THE REFORMATION 101
arrested the most careless listener, and even Scotty
felt a little tingle go over him at the yearning words :
"As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so
panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirst-
eth for God, for the living God."
And then they all knelt in prayer, old and young,
serious and careless; all bowed before the God for
whom their souls, whether they realised it or not,
panted as the hart for the cooling streams.
The prayers were all the heartfelt repetition of
the sentiment expressed in the psalm. These pio-
neers were children in a strange land, surrounded by
new conditions, and in their wise simplicity went as
children to a father for what they most needed. After
Praying Donald came Big Malcolm, then Store
Thompson, and Roarin' Sandy, and then the leader
called upon Tom Caldwell. Tom Caldwell's big Irish
heart was overflowing with good-will to his Scottish
neighbours; and carried away by his emotions, he
prayed long and loud and shouted hallelujahs in
a manner that rather alarmed the company. Indeed,
Store Thompson's wife, who was considered quite
a genteel person in the community, declared after-
wards that " it jist garred her ears tingle," and
Store Thompson himself, though never given to cen-
sure anyone, admitted that though Tom certainly
102 THE SILVER MAPLE
had a fine gift of prayer, he was, " jist a wee thing
tumultuous-like."
The meeting had been very solemn and the young-
est person there very well-behaved during the earlier
prayers, but after Tom Caldwell came the host of
the evening, and the young men began to grow rest-
less. For Long Lauchie was never so long as when
at his devotions. Indeed, for years it had been
the scandal of the Oa that his sons were in the habit
of slipping out during family worship to attend to
the " chores " about the stable, returning to ap-
pear decorously upon their knees when their father
arose.
At Callum Fiach's suggestion the " Lauchie boys "
even arranged a competition in which the five sons
strove to see who could make the longest excursion
during prayer- time. The palm was yielded to
Hughie, the third son, who crossed the swamp on
skis one evening, and saw Kirsty John chase the
Weaver from her door with the porridge stick, ar-
riving home, breathless but triumphant, just before
the amen was pronounced. No one quite believed
Hughie's story, until it was ruefully corroborated
by Jimmie himself; whereupon the limit was de-
clared to be reached, and the boys turned their atten-
tion to new fields.
THE REFORMATION 103
Bat on this first prayer-meeting night, spurred
on by the enthusiasm of the company, Long Lauchie
bade fair to give his sons ample opportunity to
journey through the length and breadth of the town-
ship of Oro and return before he was finished. The
pious old man had a fine poetic temperament, and
to-night he soared beyond anything his family had
ever heard. The petition ramified and expanded to
an alarming length, and still showed no signs of
stopping. Even Mrs. Lauchie, whose chief pride
was her husband's devotional fluency, was somewhat
concerned.
There was a restless movement among the young
men about the stove. Scotty twisted and squirmed
and tried in vain to be still. It was very wicked to
open one's eyes during prayer, he knew. Roarin'
Sandy's Johnny had told him that if he did he might
see the Deil standing behind him. And since then
Scotty had been divided between dread of the awful
apparition and a natural desire to see what his San-
tanic Majesty looked like. He was ashamed of his
restlessness, for Callum was kneeling beside him mo-
tionless. Callum would think him a baby if he moved.
He peeped cautiously through his fingers at his
uncle. Callum was kneeling at the bench, absolutely
still, indeed, but with his eyes wide open and staring
104 THE SILVER MAPLE
straight at the black, curly head of Tom Caldwell's
daughter.
Scotty felt that if it were not very wicked, he
would like to straighten up like that and stare at
somebody, too. It looked so big and manly. Master-
ing his fears, he turned cautiously in the direction of
Betty, but Betty had slipped to the floor with her
tousled yellow head on the bench, and was sound
asleep. Scotty closed his eyes again, the droning
voice of Long Lauchie floated farther and farther
away, he felt himself going, too, somewhere, into
immeasurable space, until at last he dropped into the
gulf of oblivion. He half woke to find Granny tying
a muffler round his neck. He made an ineffectual
effort to stop her, for she was saying, " Eh, eh, Gran-
ny's poor, wee, sleepy lamb," and he dreaded lest
Peter should hear her ; only Peter, like all the other
people, seemed an immeasurable distance away.
Someone else was bending over him, too, and saying,
" And you'll be sure to let him come, then? "
" But I'm afraid he would jist be a trouble to yer
mother, Kirsty," Granny answered.
"Tuts, not a bit!" was the reply. " Mother'll
jist be glad o' him, an' the wee Isabel would be lonely.
Ah'm glad she's comin', for mother's jist weariri'
to see her again, an' Miss Herbert's sick, poor lady."
THE REFORMATION 105
" Oh, well, indeed he can go, Kirsty, an* I hope he
will not be rough with the little lady."
" Not him." Scotty felt a strong, rough hand
pass gently over his curls. " When she comes Ah'll
send ye word by yon loon o' a weaver. It'll give him
somethin' to do, an' the buddie's jist fair in want for
a job."
" Ah, Kirsty, Kirsty ! " whispered Granny, " it's
too hard ye'll be on poor Jimmie. Take my advice
an' marry him, he'll be a good man to you, indeed!
There's the sleigh. Come, Hamish, lad, take the lamb
out, he will be jist dead asleep, whatever.'*
As Scotty passed out like a sack of potatoes on
Hamish's shoulder, the rush of clear, cold air partly
revived him. He cuddled under the blanket close to
Granny, and dimly heard the good-nights as each
sleigh-load moved down the long lane, not gaily
spoken as when the neighbours came in for an even-
ing, but low and subdued, for all were under the spell
of the season of prayer. He heard Granny say,
"Where's Callum? Don't be leaving the lad," and
a voice answered, " He's yonder helpin' Tom Cald-
well to hitch," and then Callum sprang in, and the
sleigh creaked slowly forward, and Scotty slid away
once more down the dim road of dreamland.
VI
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK
Into the dim woods full of the tombs
Of the dead trees soft in their sepulchres,
Where the pensive throats of the shy birds hidden
Pipe to us strangely entering unbidden,
And tenderly still in the tremulous glooms
The trilliums scatter their white-winged stars.
ARCHIBALD LAMPMAI*.
WINTER passed, and then came the
spring, with its fresh, warm winds
coming up from Lake Simcoe and
sweeping away the ice and snow in a mad, joyous
rush of water.
Scotty went barefoot just as soon as there was
enough bare ground to step upon. He seemed for a
time to cast aside all restraint with his shoes and
stockings, and when not in school lived a freebooter's
life in the forest.
He and Bruce spent much time wandering, plun-
dering and exploring from the edge of the corduroy
road where the musk and marigolds and fleur-de-lis
grew in glorious profusion all through the green
106
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 107
and golden depths to where the River Oro slipped
from its sweet enthralment of reeds and water lilies
to go bounding away down the valley to Lake Sim-
coe. The whole place was a plantation of treasures
and teemed with sounds of life: the blue- jay, the
song-sparrow, the robin, the noisy, red-winged black-
bird, the plaintive pee-wee, the far-off, clear-ringing
whitethroat, the jolly woodpecker, the noisy squir-
rel, and the shy raccoon Scotty knew them all in-
timately, learned their ways and lived their life.
He was given to much idle roaming through the
swamp, on the way to and from school, too, and when
he went to bring home the cows he remained longer
than even Granny could excuse. For that simple
task should have been performed in a very short
time. He could trace the cattle through the woods
with the sure instinct of a sleuth-hound, could dis-
tinguish Spotty's tracks from Cherry's, and might
have found his own little heifer's in the midst of the
public highway. But his skill did not help to make
him any more expeditious, for he often forgot his
errand and would lie full length upon the ground,
gazing up into the restless, swishing, green sea above,
and dreaming wonderful dreams. Callum declared
he was a lazy little beggar and ought to be cowhided
to make him move, though where one could be found
108 THE SILVER MAPLE
to perform that necessary operation the MacDonald
family were not prepared to say.
That he did not altogether develop into a little
savage was entirely due to Granny's tender care.
Nowhere was the influence of her beautiful character
felt so strongly as by the little grandson. She, who
could command her grown-up sons by her mere pres-
ence, and who was slowly but surely transforming
Big Malcolm's wild nature, was quietly moulding the
boy's character. Scotty early learned the great les-
sons of life, the lessons of truth and right, and was
well grounded in the knowledge of the things that are
eternal. He could read the Bible before he ever
entered school, and could repeat the Shorter Cate-
chism with a rapidity that sometimes alarmed Granny,
as savouring of irreverence. He learned a verse of
Scripture by heart every evening of his life, and the
Sabbath was a grand review day.
Sunday was always a red-letter day in Scotty's life,
for he generally had Granny to himself. Not that
the others were away ; for Big Malcolm, who gener-
ally ruled his household rather laxly, sternly forbade
Sabbath visiting. But the boys wandered off to the
barn or the woods after morning prayers, and Big
Malcolm dozed, or smoked, or read his Bible. And
then Granny and her boy would climb the little hil-
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 109
lock beside the house and sit under the Silver Maple.
This was a fine position, for one could see Lake Oro,
stretched out there blue and sparkling in its ring
of forest, and far away to the south, a glittering
string of diamonds and turquoise where Lake Simcoe
lay smiling in the sun, and now and then, where a
clearing opened the view, the blue flash of the river.
And there, with the soft rustle of the green and
silver canopy above, and around the scent of the
clover and the basswood blossoms, Scotty lay with
his head in Granny's lap and heard wonderful stories
of One who sat on a hill and spoke to the multitude
as never man yet spake. And never afterwards,
though he sometimes wandered from Granny's teach-
ings, did those Sabbath days lose their hold upon
his life.
And so the spring slipped into summer, and one
evening a new element came into his life. He was
lying on the doorstone, his feet in the cool, dewy
grass, dreamily watching the fireflies sparkling away
down in the pasture by the woods, and listening to the
hoarse cry of the night hawks as they swooped over-
head. It was a warm evening, and the leaves of the
Silver Maple, still touched by the hot glow of the
sunset, hung motionless in the still air.
Rory came out with his fiddle, and, sitting with
110 THE SILVER MAPLE
his chair tilted against the house, droned out a low,
sweet, yearning song for Bonny Prince Charlie who
would return no more, no more. Grandaddy sat near
on a bench smoking contentedly. Since the day of
the first prayer meeting at Long Lauchie's, Big
Malcolm had lived a life of peace, and had once more
regained his attitude of happy, kind complacency.
Old Farquhar was gone; he had disappeared when
the Silver Maple was putting forth its buds, and had
gone " a kiltin' owre the brae," as he musically ex-
pressed it to Scotty; but everyone knew that he
would come back in the autumn as surely as the wild
ducks went south. Indoors, close to the candle, sat
Hamish poring over " Waverley," and Callum could
be heard tramping about in the loft, preparing to
go off for the evening. Callum took great pains
with his toilette these evenings, Scotty noticed, though
the boys did not tease him any more about going to
see Mary Lauchie ; indeed, there were no more good-
natured allusions to his courtship. Instead, Scotty
had overheard Rory tell Oallum, in the barn one day,
that " he'd go sparkin* old Teenie McCuaig, though '
she was seventy and hadn't a tooth in her head, be-
fore he'd be seen going down to the Flats to see an
Irish girl." And Callum had seized him by the
shoulders and flattened him up against the wall until
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 111
he roared for mercy. There was always something
in the home atmosphere when Callum started off of
an evening now that vaguely reminded Scotty of
those terrible days following Grandaddy's fight in
the Glen. He felt anxiously that his hero was doing
something of which his family disapproved, and won-
dered fearfully what it might be.
His mind was turned from the contemplation of
these difficulties by a sudden change in Rory's tune.
He stopped in the midst of his low, wailing dirge and
struck up loudly the lively air that told again and
again of the mirth produced when " Jinny banged
the Weaver." Scotty raised his head and looked
across the pasture-field. That tune always ushered
Weaver Jimmy upon the stage, and there he was,
coming over the field, easily recognisable by his huge
feet. Before he reached them, the MacDonalds could
see that his face was shining with unusual joy.
" Come away, Jimmie, man," called Big Malcolm,
" it will be a warm night, whatever."
But the Weaver was too happy to notice anything
wrong with the weather. " Hoots, it will be a fine
night for all that, a fine night ; and how will you be
yourself, Mrs. MacDonald? "
" Perhaps you'll find it chilly enough if you go
round by Kirsty's, Jimmie," suggested Rory.
112 THE SILVER MAPLE
" Hooch ! " Jimmie flung one leg over the other
with more than usual vigour. " And that is jist
where you will be mistaken, Rory Malcolm, I will jist
be coming from there," he admitted with an embar-
rassed quiver.
" That's what you're generally doin' ; how fast did
you come? "
" Whisht, whisht, Rory," cried his mother. " It's
the foolish lad he is, Jimmie, don't be listening to him.
And indeed it's Kirsty John will be the fine girl, so
good and so kind to her poor mother. And how
would the mother be to-night, Jimmie ? "
"Oh, jist about the same, jist about the same;
but," he lowered his voice confidentially, " what do
you suppose she would be doin' the night? " " She "
was understood to mean Kirsty; for Jimmie never
dared take her name upon his tongue.
" Giving you a clout on the head, most like," ven-
tured Rory.
The Weaver did not deign to notice him. " She
would be sending me over here on a message ! " he
cried, and his face shone as if illuminated from
within.
" Hech ! yon's good news, Jimmie ! " cried Big
Malcolm. " You're comin' on ! "
" She'll be sendin' you on a message to another
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 113
world some o' these days," said Callum coming to
the door, looking very handsome, ready for depar-
ture.
" Oh, indeed it's yourself had better be lookin'
after your own sparkin', Callum Fiach ! " cried
Weaver Jimmie jovially. "You'll not be likely to
find it as easy as I will, whatever."
Callum turned away with an embarrassed laugh,
Rory following him. He did not answer Weaver
Jimmie's raillery, as he would have done under other
circumstances, for he had caught a look on his
father's face that betokened trouble. Big Malcolm's
eyes flashed angrily and he took his pipe from his
mouth as though to call after his son ; but his wife's
gentle voice interposed. She had, so far, by her
quiet tact, kept the father and son from an open
rupture.
" And what would Kirsty be doing ? " she asked,
striving to keep her anxiety from showing in her
voice. A spasm of joy jerked one of the Weaver's
legs over the other.
" She would be sending me over here on a message.
A good sign, I will be thinkin'," he added, lowering his
voice, for the young men were scarcely out of ear-
shot. " Yes, indeed, a good sign, I will be thinkin'.
The wee lady from the Captain's came the other day
THE SILVER MAPLE
and she would be sending me to get Scotty to come
and play with her."
Scotty raised his head. "Hoh!" he scoffed,
" play with a girl ! "
Big Malcolm laughed indulgently. " See yon,
Jimmie ! " he said, " he'll not be so anxious to go to
Kirsty's as some people, indeed."
Jimmie grinned delightedly. Nothing pleased
him more than to be twitted about his devotion to his
lady.
" Oh, but he must be going," said Granny. " The
little girl would be lonely and I would be promising
Kirsty last winter that he would go."
" Grandaddy don't like her uncle, anyhow," said
Scotty. Big Malcolm took his pipe from his mouth.
The boy had mentioned a fact for which his grand-
father had excellent reasons, but he did not choose
that it should be made so apparent to the general
public.
" That will be none o' your business, lad," he said
sternly, " an' when Kirsty wants ye, ye'll go."
Scotty made no reply ; he was not quite so chagrined
as he would have others think. He really wanted to
see the little girl with the yellow curls and the big,
blue eyes, and demonstrate to her that he was not
English, no not one whit.
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 115
So the next morning he set off across the swamp
towards Kirsty John's clearing. It was a relief that
Grandaddy and the boys had gone for a day's work
to the north clearing. This was a tract of timber on
the shore of Lake Oro which was partially cleared,
and upon which Callum hoped some day to settle.
The distance to it was some miles, and they had taken
their dinner and supper ; so Scotty felt his disgrace-
ful secret was safe.
He was a long time on the way, of course, for
Bruce had gone to the north clearing too and his
master had to do double work in racing after chip-
munks. Then he loitered purposely, for he was go-
ing for the first time in his life to pay a formal visit,
and that to a girl. The situation was such as no
discreet person would plunge into without due
deliberation.
So the sun was high in the heavens when at last
he saw ahead of him the golden light that betokened
a clearing, and heard the sound of farm life echoing
down the forest avenues.
Kirsty John's farm was a small, rough clearing
near the Scotch line. There were two or three fields,
and in the centre of them a log shanty and a small
stable. Everything about the place was very neat;
for Kirsty's mother was a Lowlander and one of the
116 THE SILVER MAPLE
most particular of that great race of housekeepers.
The little barnyard, ingeniously fenced off with
rough poles, the small patch of grass around the
doorway, the neat little flower garden, all showed
signs of a woman's tasteful hand. But Kirsty could
do the man's part as well. Black John MacDonald
had died some years before, leaving his invalid wife to
the care of their only child. And Kirsty's care had
been of the tenderest ; and if in the rough battle of
life she became a little rough and masculine, the poor
crippled mother felt none of it. Kirsty managed
everything with a strong, capable hand, from felling
trees to spinning yarn and making butter. She re-
ceived plenty of help, of course; Big Malcolm and
Long Lauchie were her nearest neighbours, and their
families vied with each other in seeing who could do
the most for her. Weaver Jimmie, too, would have
been willing to let the weaving industry go to ruin if
Kirsty would but let him so much as carry in a stick
of firewood on a winter evening; but Kirsty kept
her despised suitor so busy saving himself from vio-
lent bodily injury, when in her presence, that his
assistance was not material.
Scotty could see her now as he came down the
forest path. She was working in the little rough
hayfield, pitching up the forkfuls of hay on to a
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 117
little oxcart with masculine energy. Her skirt was
turned up, showing a striped, homespun petticoat,
and beneath it her strong bare ankles. Her pink
calico sunbonnet made a dash of colour against the
cool green of the woods.
Scotty took a leap at the low brush fence that sur-
rounded the clearing and went over it in one bound.
Then he stood stock still with sudden surprise; for
there, right in front of him, seated on a low stump
with an air of patient expectancy, was a small figure
almost enveloped in a big, blue sunbonnet.
" Oh ! " cried Scotty in amazement.
" Oh ! " echoed the Blue Sunbonnet. It came sud-
denly to life, leaped from the stump and pitched itself
upon him. " Oh, oh ! I've been watching for you
just hours and hours, and I thought you weren't
never, never coming ! "
The visitor did not know what to say. He was
scarcely prepared for such an effusive welcome, and
was suddenly seized with a fit of shyness.
"You're Scotty, aren't you?" she asked. He
nodded and the vision laughed aloud and clapped its
small hands. The blue sunbonnet toppled off, show-
ing a shower of riotous golden curls, tumbled about
in delightful confusion ; her eyes, big and blue, danced
with joy. "Oh, oh, I'm so glad!" she cried. "I
118 THE SILVER MAPLE
'membered you ever since I saw you in that funny
little shop ! "
Scotty stared still harder. To hear Store Thomp-
son's establishment designated by such terms was
beyond belief.
" I 'membered your eyes ! " she added, nodding con-
fidentially. Her baby way of saying " 'member "
restored Scotty's confidence in himself.
" Well, I will remember you, too," he admitted
sedately.
She laughed again and capered about him, while
he stood and looked at her rather puzzled. He did
not see anything to laugh at, and did not yet com-
prehend that here was a creature so joyous by nature
that she must laugh and dance about from sheer
spontaneous delight.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" she reiterated for the tenth
time. " I'll race you to the house ! "
She darted down the hill like a swallow, her golden
hair blown back, her little white bare feet twinkling
over the grass. But Scotty was a very greyhound
for speed. He leaped after her and in a moment
forged ahead. When he had gone sufficiently far to
show her how fast he could run, he looked back to find
her limping slowly after him. The boy's tender
heart, always quick to respond to the sight of pain,
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 119
suddenly smote him. He ran swiftly back. " What's
the matter? " he asked.
" A fisel," she said plaintively, dropping upon the
grass and showing him the sole of her tender little
foot. Running barefoot was not even to be men-
tioned at home, and she had not yet grown accus-
tomed to the " freedom of the sod." Scotty, whose
sturdy little brown feet were shod with leather of their
own making, stared contemptuously; she must cer-
tainly be a baby to be hurt so easily. Nevertheless,
he bent down and extracted the tormentor with the
skill acquired in many summers' apprenticeship.
Then he regarded her with half -disdainful amuse-
ment, his shyness all vanished.
" Can't you say thistle ? " lie inquired.
The big blue eyes regarded him innocently. " I
did say fisel," she declared wonderingly.
" No, you didn't, you would jist be saying * fisel.' "
She stared a moment, then laughed aloud, a clear
little bubbling irresistible laugh, and this time Scotty
laughed with her.
He seated himself cross-legged upon the grass and
proceeded to catechise her.
" Your name will be Isabel, won't it? "
" Imph n n," the blue bonnet nodded em-
phatically, " Isabel Douglas Herbert, an' my mamma
120 THE SILVER MAPLE
was Scotch, an' my Uncle Walter says I'm his Scotch
lassie."
Scotty nodded approval. He could not quite un-
derstand, however, how she could be Scotch and live
with the English gentry on the shores of Lake Oro
instead of in the Oa.
" Where does your mother live? " he inquired
dubiously.
" In heaven," said the little one simply, " an' my
papa lives there too."
" Oh," said Scotty, " an' my father and mother
will be living there too, whatever." He was not to
be outdone by her in the matter of ancestry.
" Do they ? Oh, isn't that nice ? I guess they
visit each other every day. An 5 you live with your
granma, don't you? "
Scotty nodded. " Have you got a Granny too? "
" No, only Granma MacDonald here, but I've got
an auntie an' an uncle, an' a cousin. His name's
Harold. Have you got a cousin? "
" No." Scotty's face fell. " No, I don't think I
will be having any, unless mebby Callum an' Rory an'
Hamish would be my cousins, whatever."
"Who's Callum?" Scotty sat up straight, his
eyes shining. Callum ! Why, he was the most won-
derful man in all the township of Oro ; and thereupon
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK
he proceeded to give her a detailed account of the
wonderful achievements of " the boys " ; how Callum
was so big and so strong and could run the logs down
the river better than anyone else; how Rory could
play the fiddle and dance ; and, oh, the stories Hamish
could tell!
The blue eyes opposite him grew bigger. " Oh,"
their owner exclaimed delightedly, " I'm going over to
your place to see you some day, an' we'll get Hamish
to tell us 'bout fairies an' things, won't we? You'll
let me come, won't you? "
Scotty hesitated. A girl at home might be a great
inconvenience and at best would certainly be an em-
barrassment ; but his whole life's training had taught
him that one's home must ever be at the disposal of
all who would enter, and anyone who would not must
be urged, even though that person were the niece of
Captain Herbert. So he answered cordially, " Oh,
yes, 'course, if you want to come."
Miss Isabel sighed happily. " Oh, I think you're
awful nice ! " she exclaimed. " And is your name
just Scotty?"
" Yes ! " cried Scotty, very emphatically, " Scotty
MacDonald."
"But that isn't all, is it? There's sumpfin'
more? "
THE SILVER MAPLE
" No ! " exploded Scotty, " there ain't ! Some bad
folks would be saying that would be my name ; but it
will be jist Scotty, whatever. And," he looked
threatening, " I don't ever be playing with anybody
that would be calling me that nasty English name."
His listener seemed properly impressed. " I won't
never call you anything but just Scotty! " she prom-
ised solemnly.
A call from the house summoned them ; Kirsty had
hurried in and was searching the milk-house for ban-
nocks and maple syrup. The children ran through
the little barnyard, causing a terrible commotion
among the fowl, and up the flower-bordered path to
the shanty door. Scotty had not been at Kirsty's
since the summer before, when Granny took him to
see the poor sick woman who lay in bed weary month
after weary month, and now he drew shyly behind
his little hostess.
" Come away, Scotty man ! " called Kirsty heart-
ily. " Come away, mother's wantin' to see ye ! "
The door of the little log shanty stood open, re-
vealing a bare, spotless room with whitewashed walls.
There were a couple of old chairs and a rough bench
scrubbed a beautiful white like the floor ; a curtain of
coarse muslin, white and glistening, draped the little
window, and a picture of Bobby Burns in a frame
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 123
made from the shells of Lake Oro, and another of the
youthful Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort in a
frame ingeniously wrought from pine cones hung on
the wall. A tall cupboard and an old clock with its
long hanging weights looked quite familiar and home-
like to Scotty. But over in the corner by the win-
dow was a sight that struck him painfully and made
him draw back. An old four-post bed stood against
the log wall and in it lay the shrivelled little figure
of Kirsty's mother propped up with pillows. She
was bent and twisted with rheumatism, like a little old
tree that had been battered by storms. But her face
was brave and bright, and from it shone a pair of
brown eyes with a pathetic inquiry in them as of a
dumb, uncomprehending creature in pain. She wore
a stiff white cap on her thin grey hair, a snowy mutch
covered her poor crooked shoulders, and everything
about her was beautifully neat and clean, showing
her daughter's loving care.
" Heh, mother ! " cried Kirsty cheerfully, " here's
Marget Malcolm's boy at last. Come, Scotty, and
mother will be seeing how big you are."
The old woman took the boy's sturdy brown hand
in her own poor crooked ones as well as she was able,
and peered eagerly into his face.
" Eh, eh ! " she cried musingly. " He will be some
THE SILVER MAPLE
like Marget's lass, but he's his f aether's bairn ; eh, he's
got the set an' the look o' yon fine English callant,
forbye the MacDonald eyes."
The aforementioned MacDonald eyes drooped and
the rosy MacDonald lips pouted at the word English.
" He's awful nice, isn't he, Granma MacDonald? "
whispered the little girl.
The old woman gazed at the little fair face, and
then back at the boy.
" Strange, strange," she murmured, half audibly.
" It's a queer warld, a queer warld, the twa here
thegither, an' ane has a', an' the ither has nae thing.
Mebby the good Lord will be settin' it right. Och,
aye, He'll set it richt some way."
The children gazed uncomprehendingly at her, but
just then Kirsty came forward with a plate of ban-
nocks soaked in maple syrup, and for a time they gave
it their absorbed attention.
Then Kirsty soon had to leave them for her work,
and after giving the children the freedom of the
clearing, provided they did not go near the well, she
rearranged her mother's pillows very gently and re-
turned to the field.
The two sat silent by the bedside. Now that their
feast was over, the little girl looked with longing eyes
through the doorway ; but Scotty felt constrained to
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 125
wait a few minutes, for Granny had said that Kir sty's
mother was sick and lonely and needed comforting.
The old woman looked up with sudden brightness
in her eyes. "Can ye read?" she asked eagerly.
Oh, yes, Scotty could read, had been able to do so for
a very long time.
"I can read too, can't I, Granma MacDonald?"
cried the little girl. " I read to you sometimes,
don't I?"
" Yes, yes, lassie, ye're jist a wee bit o' sunshine.
Eh, what would yer puir auld Granny do if ye didna
come to see her in the simmer? But Ah want the
laddie to read me the wee bit that Kirsty reads me;
ye ken it, bairnie ? "
She pointed to the old worn Bible lying on the win-
dow sill, with a drowsy blue-bottle fly droning about
it. The little girl tripped over and brought it to
Scotty.
" I know the place, Granma, don't I ? " she chat-
tered; "it's got the blue mark in it. There!"
Her rosy finger pointed to a well-worn page, marked
by a piece of woven scented grass.
" Aye ! " said the old woman, with a satisfied look,
" that's the bright bit, lassie ; Kirsty leaves a mark
for Ah canna read. Eh, Ah wish Ah could jist read
yon bit, Ah wouldna mind ony ither, but jist yon.
126 THE SILVER MAPLE
Ah'd like to see hoo it looks." Her wrinkled face
quivered pitifully, but she made a brave attempt to
smile. " Read it, laddie," she whispered.
Scotty took the book and read where his little
friend indicated. He read the Bible every day, and
this extract was quite familiar; one wonderful story
among the many of the Master's love and tenderness
towards all the suffering ; Luke's beautiful tale of the
poor woman who was bent nearly double and was made
whole by the potency of a Divine word. The boy
droned laboriously on, and as he came to the words,
" And Jesus called her to Him," the old woman put
out her feeble hand and caught his arm, her bright
brown eyes shining, her withered face flushed.
"Aye!" she whispered eagerly, "d'ye hear yon?
D'ye hear yon ? He called her! Aye ! " she con-
tinued with an air of triumph, " that's it ! Some-
times Ah canna quite believe it, but ilka buddy reads
it jist the same; that's it! He called her Himself.
Aye, an' a' the ither buddies fleein' aefter Him, an*
botherin' Him, but no her, no her! Eh, wasna yon
graund ! Go on, laddie, go on ! " She made a feeble
attempt to wipe away the tear that coursed down her
wrinkled cheek.
" Eh, isna it bonny ! " she cried as the boy finished.
" Isna it bonny ! Ah suppose Ah'm too auld to learn
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 127
to read, but Ah'd jist like to read yon bit," she said
wistfully.
Little Isabel went softly to her, and tenderly wiped
away the tears from the poor old face. " There now,
Granma MacDonald," she said in the tender tones
she had heard Kirsty use, " you mustn't cry. Maybe
Jesus'll come and make you straight too, won't He? "
"Eh, lassie," she whispered, " Ah'm jist waitin'
for it. Ah'm houpin' He will. Ah'm jist a burden
to puir Kirsty, an* whiles the pain's that bad. Eh,
but Ah wish He would. Surely He'd think as much
o' me as o' yon auld buddy. Don't ye think He micht,
lassie?"
" Course ! " cried the little one with the hopefulness
of childhood, " course He will, won't He, Scotty ? "
Scotty hung his head shyly.
" If Granny was here, she would be tellin' you,
whatever," he whispered.
" Aye, that's true, mannie," said the old woman
brightening, " Marget McNeil kens aboot Him, aye,
she kens fine. Eh, but mebby He will," she whispered.
She lay back and gazed through the little window,
away over the forest-clad hills and dales to where
Lake Oro's shining expanse sparkled through the
jagged outline of the treetops. Her lips moved,
" He called her to Him," she whispered, " an' He said
128 THE SILVER MAPLE
unto her, * Woman, thou art loosed from thine in-
firmity.' ' She lay very still, a happy light shining
in her eyes ; the children waited a moment, and then
slipped softly out of doors.
When he found himself alone once more with his
new acquaintance, Scotty suddenly became shy again.
But his diffidence was put to flight in a summary
manner. The young lady gave him a smart slap in
the face and darted away. " Last tag ! " she
screamed back over her shoulder. Scotty stood for
an instant petrified with indignation, and then he was
after her like the wind. As they tore through the
little barnyard Kirsty called to them not to go near
the well, but neither of them heard. Into the woods
they dashed, over mossy logs and stones, tearing
through the undergrowth and crashing among fallen
boughs. In spite of her fleetness Scotty caught his
tormentor as she dodged round a tree; he held her in
a sturdy grip and shook her for her impudence until
her sunbonnet fell off. He was somewhat discon-
certed to find her accept this treatment with the ut-
most good humour. Betty would have wailed dis-
mally, but this girl wrenched herself free and laughed
derisively.
" You can't hurt like Hal," she said rather disdain-
fully, " he pulls my hair."
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK
" Well, I'll be doing that too if you slap me again,"
said Scotty, grateful for the suggestion.
" No, you won't," she declared triumphantly,
" 'cause then I wouldn't play with you. I'd just go
right back to Granma MacDonald and leave you all
alone in the bush. An' I wouldn't show you all the
places here. There's a king's castle an' a hole where
the goblins comes out of, an' a tree where a bad, bad
dwarf lives, an' an'," she was whispering now, " an'
heaps of dreadfuller things than that 'way down
there." She pointed into the green depths with an
air of proprietorship. Scotty felt a deep respect
rising in his heart.
He had thought he knew the forest as the chip-
munks know it, but here it was in a new and romantic
aspect.
" Where are they ? " he inquired quite humbly ;
and, satisfied with his demeanour, his mentor led the
way. Though the royal castle proved to be only a
rock and the other enchanted places equally familiar
to Scotty, she clothed them with such an air of mys-
tery and related such amazing tales concerning each,
vouched for by no less an authority than Weaver
Jimmie, that her listener regarded them and their ex-
ponent with something like awe.
They journeyed on, every new turn revealing un-
130 THE SILVER MAPLE
told wonders and giving an added stimulus to the
leader's lively imagination. And indeed the forest was
a place in which anyone might expect to meet a fairy
or a goblin behind every tree. The happy sense of
unreality lent by the uncertainty of distances, the
airy unsubstantial appearance of the leaf-grown
earth; the dazzling splashes of golden light on the
green, the sudden appearance of open glades choked
with blossoms ; and through all the ringing harmony
of a hundred songsters combined to make the woods a
veritable fairyland.
And Scotty soon found to his joy that he was to
have his part in interpreting its beauties too, for
Isabel came to the end of her tales at last and was
full of questions. What was that sad little " tee-
ee-ee," somebody was always saying away far off. It
must be a fairy too. But Scotty had come down to
realities now, and felt more at home. That? Why,
that was only a whitethroat. Didn't she hear how it
said, " Hard-times-in-Canady ! " She laughed aloud
and imitated the song, setting all the woods a-ring
with her clear notes. And what made those bells
ring up in the tree? Those weren't bells, they were
just veerys, and they said, " Ting-a-ling-a-lee ! " But
the bobolinks had bells; they would go back to the
clearing and hear them ring in the hayfield, and
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 131
there was a meadow-lark's nest there, and lots of
plovers ; yes, and if she would come down to the creek
that ran across the Scotch line he would show her a
mud turtle, and they could catch some fish, and there
was a boiling spring there, where the water was so
cold you couldn't put your feet into it, and it bubbled
all the time, even in the winter.
And then they found flowers, oh, so many flowers,
big, pink, bobbing ladies' slippers, and delicate or-
chids and great flaming swamp lilies ; and there were
wonderful pitcher-plants, too, with their tall crimson
blossoms. Scotty explained the workings of the per-
fidious little vessels, and they sat down and watched
with absorbed interest the poor foolish insects slip
happily down the silken stairway to certain death.
And under Isabel's magic touch the little green pitch-
ers became dungeons, presided over by a wicked giant,
and filled with helpless prisoners.
And so they might have rambled in this enchanted
land all day had not the woman nature asserted itself.
Isabel had had enough of fairies and goblins. They
must give up this wandering life and settle down, she
declared. They would build a house in the fence
corner and carpet it with moss and have clam shells
from the creek for dishes. Scotty had fallen quite
meekly into the unaccustomed role of follower and
THE SILVER MAPLE
was willing that they should go housekeeping, pro-
vided he was allowed to play the man's part. He
would be Big Wind, the Indian who lived down by
Lake Simcoe, and he would go off shooting bears
and Lowlanders all day, and she would stay at home
and be his squaw and make baskets. But Miss Isabel
would be nothing of the kind. She did not like
" scraws " ; they were very dirty, and came to the
back door and sold their baskets. But Scotty might
be a great hunter if he wanted, and she would be the
lady who lived in the house, and she would cook the
dinner and go to the door and call " hoo-hoo " when
it was ready, the way Kirsty did when Long
Lauchie's boys worked in her fields.
" I see Kirsty now ! " she called, seating herself
upon a log which formed one side of their mansion.
" I see her 'way over yonder ! " Scotty seated him-
self beside her, flushed and heated with the unwonted
exertions of house-building.
" Oh, don't you love Kirsty," she cried, giving him
an ecstatic shake. " I do ; an' I love you, too, Scotty,
you're a dear ! " Scotty looked slightly uncomfort-
able, but not wholly displeased.
" Don't you love to run away off in the bush like
this, and have nobody to bother you? " she inquired
next.
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 133
w Yes." Scotty could cordially assent to that.
" When I get a man," he said, in a sudden burst of
confidence, " I'm goin' to live in a wigwam like Big
Wind an' shoot bears ! "
" Oh, my ! " she cried in delight. " I wish I could
live with you, only I don't want to be an ugly scraw,
I want to be like Kirsty when I grow big, an' live up
here in the Oa, an' pile hay ; but I'll have to be like
Auntie Eleanor an' wear a black silk dress, oh, dear ! "
" Wouldn't you be liking a silk dress ? " asked
Scotty in surprise.
" No ! " she cried disdainfully. " You've always
got to take care of it. I want a red petticoat like
Kirsty wears, and I want to go in my bare feet all the
time, and live in the bush."
"Don't you go in your bare feet at home?" in--
quired Scotty in amazement.
" No," she admitted mournfully. " Auntie Elea-
nor says 'tisn't nice for little girls, an' I have to play
the piano every morning, an' not make any noise
round the house, 'cause you know my poor auntie
has headaches all the time. Do you know what's the
matter with my auntie ? "
" No."
"Well, don't you tell, it's a big secret; she's got
the heartbreak! "
134 THE SILVER MAPLE
" The what? " cried Scotty in alarm.
" The heartbreak. Brian told me. Brian's our
coachman, an' I heard him tell Mary Morrison, the
cook, and he told me not to never, never tell ; but I'll
just tell you, and you won't tell, will you, Scotty? "
" No, never. Will it be like the rheumatics Granny
has?"
" No-o, I 'spect not ; it's when you have headaches
an' don't smile nor eat much ; not even pie ! " She
gazed triumphantly into Scotty's interested coun-
tenance. " That's what my auntie's got."
" Would she be catching it at school? " he inquired
feelingly, moved by recollections of an epidemic of
measles that had raged in Number Nine the winter
preceding.
" No, she just got it all by herself. She was going
to be married in the church, 'way over in England,
and she had a beautiful satin dress and a veil and
everything, and he didn't come ! "
"Who? " demanded Scotty.
" Why, the gempleman ; he was a soldier-man with
a grea' big sword, an' he got bad an' went away, an'
my auntie got the heartbreak. An' that's why she's
sick an' doesn't want me to make a noise or jump."
Scotty looked at her in deep sympathy. " Won't
she be letting you jump? " he asked in awe.
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 135
" Not much," she said with a fine martyr-like air.
" She says 'tisn't lady-like, an' she's going to send me
to a school in Toronto when I get big, where it's all
girls, and not one of them ever, ever jumps once! "
They stared at each other in mutual amazement at
the conception of a whole jumpless school.
" I wouldn't be going ! " cried Scotty firmly.
" I'd jump I'd jump out of the window an' run
away, whatever ! "
Her eyes sparkled. " Oh, p'raps I could do that
too ! I'd run away an' come to Kirsty. She doesn't
mind if I jump an' make a noise, an' Kirsty never
makes me sew. Oh, Scotty, you don't ever have to
sew, do you ? "
"Noh!" cried Scotty in disdain, "that's girls'
work."
She sighed deeply. " I wish I was a boy ! Harold
never has to sew, but Harold goes to school 'way in
Toronto all the time an' maybe they don't let him
jump there. I'd jump!" she cried, springing from
the log and laughing joyously, "oh, wouldn't I!
Last tag, Scotty ! " and she was once more off into
the woods and Scotty after her.
Such a happy day as it was, but it was over at last,
and after they had eaten their supper, where Kirsty
served it to them in their playhouse, Scotty went to
136 THE SILVER MAPLE
the house to bid the old woman good-bye, and started
for home.
The little girl followed him sadly and slowly to the
edge of the clearing.
"When'll you come back again?" she asked
pleadingly.
" I'll not know," said Scotty patronisingly, " I
don't often play with girls."
The blue sunbonnet drooped ; its owner's assurance
and independence had all vanished. " You might
come next Saturday," she suggested humbly.
" Well," said Scotty handsomely, " mebby I'll be
coming."
" I'm going to ask Kirsty if I can't go to school
with you some day ! " she cried audaciously.
Scotty looked alarmed. In reality he was most
eager to return and resume housekeeping in the fence-
corner, but to have this stranger go to school with
him would never do. The boys would laugh at him,
and already he had sufficient trials with Betty Lauchie
since Peter stopped going to school.
"Oh, it's too far!" he cried hastily, "an' there
will be an awful cross master there ! " *
" I don't care, you wouldn't let him touch me,
would you ? "
" If you don't ask Kirsty, I'll come over all next
AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK 137
Saturday, an' mebby she'll be letting you come to my
place ; it's nicer than school."
So thus comforted, Isabel climbed the stump and
swung her sunbonnet as long as the slanting sunlight
showed the little figure running down the fast darken-
ing forest-pathway; and just before the shadows
swallowed him up, he turned and waved his cap in
farewell.
VII
THE AVENGING OF GLENCOE
Now the dewy sounds begin to dwindle,
Dimmer grow the burnished rills,
Breezes creep and halt,
Soon the guardian night shall kindle
In the violet vault,
All the twinkling tapers
Touched with steady gold
Burning through the lawny vapours
Where they float and fold.
DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT.
THE sound of a tinkling bell, crossing the
pasture in tuneful harmony with the music
of the summer evening, had come to a pause
in the barnyard, and the boys had gone out with their
pails to the milking.
Scotty came capering up the path from the barn,
making mischievous snatches at Granny's rosebushes,
which surrounded the house all abloom in their June
dresses. He seldom returned from his evening task
of bringing home the cows in such good time. Gen-
erally he lingered in the woods until he had almost
138
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 139
worn out even Granny's patience, and caused Callum
to threaten all kinds of dire punishments, which were
never inflicted. But to-night he had been very ex-
peditious, and with good reason ; for hadn't Granny
warned him that Isabel might arrive at any moment ?
She had come to Kirsty's a few days before, and
Weaver Jimmie had promised that, if the lady who
ruled his heart was in a sufficiently propitious mood to
admit of his leaving her door intact, he would, with-
out fail, bring the little visitor over that evening.
She and Scotty had become quite intimate since the
first summer of their acquaintance. Miss Isabel was
possessed of a vitality and high spirits that sometimes
became unbearable to her invalid aunt ; so every sum-
mer, to her own delight and Miss Herbert's relief,
she was packed off to the home of her old nurse. For
Kirsty John's mother had been a servant in the Her-
bert family in her youth; and when the little Isabel
had been left an orphan in the Captain's family,
Kirsty herself had been nurse-maid to both her and
Captain Herbert's little son. Sometimes, too, dur-
ing the winter, when her cousin was away at school,
the child came for a lengthy visit to her Highland
home, for Miss Herbert had often to go to the city
for medical attendance, and her brother always ac-
companied her, glad of an opportunity to be with his
140 THE SILVER MAPLE
son. Indeed, the family at Lake Oro had what Kirsty
called a bad habit of " stravogin'." She declared
they were always " jist here-away there-away," and
never settled down like decent folk in one place. But
then there was no accounting for the ways of the
gentry, and these people were half English and half
Irish, anyway, and what could a body expect? She
was thankful herself that the wee bit lassock had some
good Scotch blood in her, anyway. Kirsty often
shook her head over her little charge, declaring that
if the father or mother had lived, or even the Cap-
tain's wife, who was a smart, tidy body, even if she
was a lady, the wee one would have had better care.
Not but that the Captain's folk were, fond of the
lamb; Kirsty declared it was clean impossible not to
love her ; but what with a poor girnin', sick body for
an aunt, and an uncle who was such a gentleman he
didn't know whether the roof was falling in on him or
not, was it any wonder the bit thing was wild?
Whatever neglect Miss Isabel may have suffered
troubled her not a whit. For neglect spelled liberty
and always contributed to the general joyousness of
her existence. Her poor aunt's illnesses, even, were
associated in her childish mind with the keenest de-
light, for they brought her what she enjoyed most in
the world, many days spent in the Oa. Nominally
AVENGING OF GLENCOE
her home was with her old nurse, but she really spent
the greater part of her time at Scotty's home. And
here Weaver Jimmie became indirectly a partaker in
the joy of the little one's presence; for Kirsty en-
trusted her girl to him in her journeys between the
clearings; an honour of which Jimmie boasted from
one end of the Oa to the other, and fulfilled his com-
mission with a vigilance that kept his lively young
charge in a state of indignant rebellion.
In the meantime Scotty had grown to like this new
comrade and to respect her. Of course she was only
a girl, but she was immeasurably superior to Betty,
for she rarely cried, was always merry, had a marvel-
lous inventive genius and never failed of some new
and wonderful scheme for enjoying life and escaping
work. His big, generous heart experienced no jeal-
ousy, but only a great pride in her, when she usurped
his place and became the centre of interest and ad-
miration in his home. One visit had been sufficient to
establish her as the ruler of Big Malcolm's household.
Everyone came at her beck and call; Rory fiddled,
Callum danced, Old Farquhar sang, and Hamish spun
impossible yarns at her command. And Granny,
who was the most abject subject of all, would fondle
her golden curls, calling her Margaret, the name of
her own little girl whom she had lost, and would let
THE SILVER MAPLE
her help make the johnny cake for supper, appar-
ently not a whit disturbed by the fact that every-
thing in the room was strewn with flour. Big Mal-
colm himself seemed to forget that she belonged to
the man against whom he had sworn lifelong enmity,
and like the rest, opened his heart to her unreservedly.
And she returned his affection with all the might of
her warm happy nature. She called him " Gran-
daddy," as Scotty did, and would climb upon his knee
and coax and tease him into doing things that even
his grandson would not have dared to ask.
The little visitor always came at a time that Scotty
found very convenient, just when the closing of
school had deprived him of Danny Murphy's com-
panionship; and to-night he looked forward to her
coming with more than usual pleasure, for he needed
her help and advice. Of late the boy's tender heart
had been worried by signs of discord at home. Some-
thing he could not fathom was wrong with Callum.
That old trouble that had arisen between him and
Grandaddy the first winter of the prayer meetings
had been suddenly aggravated. Scotty had heard
rumours at school, and was vaguely conscious of the
cause of the dissension. Isabel was so quick, perhaps
she could help him to find out just what was wrong
and suggest a remedy.
AVENGING OFGLENCOE 143
" Yon's a queer-lookin 5 thing comin' over the bars,
Scotty," said his grandfather, smilingly, from his
place at the doorway.
Scotty turned eagerly; yes, there was a little blue
figure scrambling hastily over the fence into the pas-
ture-field, followed by Weaver Jimmie, as anxious
and flustered as a hen with a wayward duckling.
A joyous scream announced that she had really
come.
" It's her ! " shouted the boy. " It's wee Isabel ! "
He darted down the hill to meet her, but Callum
was there first. Callum was on his way up from the
barn, and the little blue figure flew to him and made
the rest of the journey to the house perched trium-
phantly upon his broad shoulder, screaming with de-
light, and calling upon Scotty, her own dear Scotty,
to come and meet her.
But for all his joy, as she approached Scotty drew
back shyly behind the rosebushes. The first meeting
with Isabel was something of an embarrassment, for
she always pitched herself upon him and insisted
upon kissing him, more than once sometimes, if he
wasn't watchful, and it was certainly an unseemly
thing for a boy of his size to be kissed by anybody.
But the ordeal was soon over, and when they had all
rejoiced over her and measured her height against
144 THE SILVER MAPLE
the door-frame, where two niches showed how she and
Scotty had stood last summer, and admired her
growth, and warned Scotty to take care or she would
soon be as tall as he was, the elder folk gave their
attention to Weaver Jimmie and left the children to
their own devices.
As usual the Weaver was the bearer of important
tidings.
" It's a fine job Tom Caldwell thinks he's got this
time ! " he declared with an embarrassed hitch of one
big foot over the other, and a rather nervous glance
towards Callum.
"What's that? " inquired Rory, coming up to the
door with his two pails of foaming milk. " We al-
ways like to know what our relations will be doing,"
he added with a sly chuckle.
Weaver Jimmie looked more embarrassed than
ever. He attacked his whiskers and became so ab-
sorbed in their subduing that his audience grew im-
patient.
"Out with it, man!" cried Callum, and thus
adjured, the Weaver told his story. When he had
finished, it appeared that a much graver danger than
a Fenian raid threatened the Glen, for what should
Tom Caldwell and all those Irish louts from the Flats
be up to now but an Orangemen's raid!
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 145
Big Malcolm removed his pipe and glared at the
speaker.
" What is it ye will be saying, man? " he demanded
harshly. Weaver Jimmie looked encouraged, and
avoiding Callum's eye, he gave further details. Tom
Caldwell had lately been the means of organising an
Orange lodge in the Flats, and at their last meeting
the brethren had decreed that, upon the coming 12th
of July, they must have a celebration. It was to be
no ordinary affair either, Pete Nash himself told
him ; but such a magnificent spectacle as the pioneers
had never yet witnessed. Pete had received orders to
prepare dinner for fifty guests and whiskey for twice
as many. There was to be a grand rally early in the
morning at the home of Tom Caldwell, who was to
personate the great Protestant monarch, and at high
noon a triumphal march up over the hills and down
into the Glen to the feast, with fifes and drums and
a greater display in crossing the Oro than King
William himself had had in crossing the historic
Boyne.
Big Malcolm sat silent, his fists clenched. He was
a Glencoe MacDonald, and, like all his clan, had an
abhorrence of the name of Orange running fiercely in
his veins. But he was saying to himself over and over
that he who had repented of all his strife, who had set
146 THE SILVER MAPLE
his face firmly against the evils of the day and become
a leader of the new movement that was bringing the
community into a higher and better life, he certainly
must not be the one to stir up dissension. And yet,
to have a celebration in their own glen in honour of
the MacDonalds' betrayer!
" It will be a low, scandalous, Irish trick ! " he
vehemently burst forth.
Weaver Jimmie's eyes brightened. " They would
be needing to learn a lesson, whatever," he suggested
tentatively.
" Malcolm," Mrs. MacDon aid's voice came in
gently, " we will surely not be forgetting that Tom
Caldwell would be joining us at the meetings these
last winters, and indeed we would jist all be praying
together that the Father would be putting away all
strife from our hearts."
Callum cast his mother a look of gratitude; for,
though generally the first to scent the battle from
afar and hasten its approach, for very good reasons
of his own he was on this occasion strongly inclined
for peace. Big Malcolm looked at the gentle face of
his wife and the fire died out of his eyes.
" Hoh ! " he exclaimed disdainfully, " I will not be
caring; let them have their childish foolishness if it
will be doing them any good, whatever ! "
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 147
Weaver Jimmie looked disappointed, but, seeing no
encouragement in the faces about him, he reluctantly
dropped the subject. The conversation soon turned
from war to a topic even nearer Jimmie's heart, for
Rory had brought out his fiddle and now struck up
gaily the song of the cruel Jinny and the hapless
weaver.
Before the departure of the guests Scotty found
an opportunity to confide his troubles to Isabel. He
could not tell her exactly what was wrong, for that
meant confessing that Callum and Grandaddy were
capable of mistakes. But he vaguely hinted that he
was worried over their hero. Callum was going to do
something, something strange and new, but just what
he could not discover. Isabel was equally perturbed.
Why not ask Granny? she suggested. She would tell
them. But no, Scotty explained, that was just what
they must not do, for it was something that made
Granny sad. But Peter Lauchie knew; Peter had
told him that the shanty at the north clearing was to
be fixed up for Callum to live there, after harvest;
and then he laughed and would tell him no more.
As usual Isabel was quick to suggest a way out of
the difficulty. Why should they not go over to
Peter's place some day and make him tell all about it?
She wanted to see Betty again, anyway, and perhaps
148 THE SILVER MAPLE
Hughie would put up a swing for them in the barn
again.
This was a fine plan, and the next week they pro-
ceeded to put it into execution, and with Kirsty's
permission set off early one morning for a day's visit
at Long Lauchie's. Isabel was almost as well known
there as Scotty himself, so he soon managed to leave
her in Betty's company and go off to the fields to seek
Peter.
By judicious and persistent questioning he learned
the confirmation of his fears. Yes, Peter and all the
boys knew what the trouble was. Callum was to be
married, and to an Irish girl at that, and of course
all the MacDonalds were highly disgusted.
Scotty listened in dismay. Callum to be married!
That itself was bad enough, people were always
laughed at and chaffed when they got married, and
he writhed at the thought of his hero being in such an
ignominious position. But to be married to an Irish
girl! Surely the MacDonalds would be disgraced
forever.
And yet Scotty's heart forbade his taking sides
against Nancy. She was Irish, certainly a deplor-
able fact, but still she was Nancy; and though she
had not been at school for some time, the boy had not
forgotten her. He sighed deeply over the complex-
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 149
ity of human affairs. This, then, was the cause of
their unhappiness at home, of Grandaddy's muttered
threats and Granny's distressed looks.
He did not understand that there were stronger
objections to Nancy in Granny's mind than the girl's
nationality. Big Malcolm's wife was growing old,
and the work of the farmhouse weighed heavily upon
her. Ever since Callum had grown up she had cher-
ished the hope that one day she would have sweet, trim
Mary Lauchie, the finest girl in the Oa, and a Mac-
Donald at that, to take the reins of government in
her household. The loss of Mary would have been
disappointment enough, but Callum's new choice was
a great trial to his patient, gentle mother. The
thought of Nancy Caldwell as a daughter-in-law,
even though she was to live at the north clearing,
instead of with her, filled her with fear. For Nancy
had a reputation that had spread beyond the Flats.
Since the day she left school, where she had defied
McAllister at his best, she had ruled supreme in her
own home from sheer dauntlessness of spirit. Many
were the tales told in the Oa of her wild outlandish
doings; how she would dress up in her brother's
clothes and drive madly all over the country; how
she could ride an unbroken colt bareback, and shoot
like a man, things which everyone in the Oa knew no
150 THE SILVER MAPLE
right-minded young woman could ever learn. And
hadn't Store Thompson's wife been, as she declared,
clean scandalised by seeing the hussy cross the Oro
at the spring floods, standing erect in a canoe and
spreading out her skirts to the gale, " Makin' a sail o'
mesilf ! " as she had laughingly declared when she
leaped ashore.
Scotty could not force himself to tell Isabel the dis-
graceful truth ; he was very quiet and gloomy as they
walked homeward through the golden-lighted forest.
But Isabel had had a grand day with Betty and had
forgotten all about the original purport of their visit.
She danced along at his side full of busy chatter.
Didn't he love all Long Lauchie's folks? She did;
for Betty was a dear and Mrs. Lauchie was 'most as
nice as Scotty's Granny. But she loved Mary most
of all, because she was so kind and so good. And did
Mary have the heartbreak too, like her auntie ? No ;
Scotty did not see how that was possible; for Mary
had never had a dress ready for a wedding; nor a
fine soldier man who did not come. But Isabel was
sure he was mistaken. Yes, that was certainly what
Mary had, for her face was so pale, and she had the
same look in her eyes that her auntie had when her
wedding day came round, only Mary's eyes were
kinder. But Scotty was not interested in Mary.
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 1511
Callum absorbed all his thoughts, and he left Isabel
at Kirsty's and hurried home.
He found the boys all gone and his grandfather
sitting alone by the door. Big Malcolm was not
smoking, which was a bad sign, and his grandson saw
by the look in his eye that he was not at peace. In
his perturbation over Callum's difficult case the boy
had not noticed that a new undercurrent of excite-
ment was running through life's everyday affairs.
For, though Big Malcolm had, with wonderful
self-control, put aside his indignation at the Orange-
men, all the MacDonalds had not done so. Weaver
Jimmie had gone up over the hills of the Oa like a
bearer of the fiery cross, and wherever he appeared
the beacon-fire of anger had blazed forth. The
Orangemen celebrating! The MacDonalds arose as
one man, and in all the inherited fury of generations,
combined with as much more produced for the occa-
sion, banded together and swore that before the soil
of this, their new home, should be polluted by a cele-
bration in honour of the MacDonalds' betrayer, it
should first be soaked with the MacDonalds' blood !
To do Tom Caldwell justice, he did not at all com-
prehend the enormity of the offence he was about to
commit. Of course the Orangemen anticipated some
trouble among their Catholic brethren, but rather
152 THE SILVER MAPLE
looked forward to it as part of their entertainment.
For though Pat Murphy and his friends prophesied
death and destruction to the procession and all that
had part or lot in it, what matter ? The country had
been growing far too quiet since the fighting Mac-
Donalds had taken to praying instead o/ pugilism,
and a little row at the corner would just stir things
up a bit and make it seem like old times. But while
they gleefully looked for tempests in the Flats, they
were innocently oblivious to the fact that the for-
merly peaceful hills of the Oa had been converted
into raging volcanoes. Occasionally vague rumours
of an eruption in the MacDonald settlement did float
down to King William and his men, drilling in the
long June evenings, but they drowned them in the
tooting of fifes and the banging of drums and went
gaily on to their doom.
But while the MacDonalds raged, Big Malcolm
remained at home alone or in company with Long
Lauchie, and fought with himself the fiercest battle
in which he had ever engaged. Not since the day he
had seen Rory go down under Pat Murphy's feet had
he been so sorely tried. And the MacDonalds would
say he had failed them because his son was about to
unite with one of the Caldwell crew. That was the
sting of it ! Callum had always been the first in any
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 153
aggressive enterprise of the Oa, and Callum was now
conspicuous by his absence. Sometimes Big Mal-
colm was fiercely resolved to plunge headlong into the
commotion and compel his son to join him. And
then calmer moments ensued; he could not forget
those winter prayer meetings and the wonderful leav-
ening effect they had had upon the community ; nor
could he forget Praying Donald's prophetic warnings
that all strife and enmity must certainly bring
retribution. No ; he had forever put all feuds behind
him, he finally decided, and if the MacDonalds were
about to engage in strife with the Orangemen they
must learn that he, Big Malcolm, was far above and
beyond any such unseemly brawlings.
But upon this evening when Scotty found him
alone at the doorway, his grandfather was experienc-
ing none of the settled calm that might be expected
to follow such a laudable decision. For to-night the
MacDonalds were holding another mass-meeting at
the house of Roarin' Sandy to decide finally what
punishment should be meted out to the reckless
Orangemen, and his very soul was crying out to be
with them.
Scotty could elicit no answer to his remarks, and
sat upon the doorstep, a small, disconsolate heap, won-
dering sadly how his hero could have made such a mis-
154 THE SILVER MAPLE
take, and finding in his own forlorn heart an echo of
the sweet, melancholy evening music. Around him
the mosquitoes wailed out their dreary little song;
away down by the edge of the wet, low pastures, where
the fireflies wandered, each with his weird little torch,
the frogs were piping mournfully. The whitethroat
was sending out his " silver arrows of song " clearly
and pensively from the depths of the velvet dusk.
The discordant twang of the swooping night-hawks
came down from the pale clear sky where one silver
star had come out above the black jagged line of
forest.
Granny was moving about indoors ; the boy could
smell the sweet fragrance of the new warm milk she
was straining into the pans. The air was heavy with
the scent of clover, the world was very peaceful, but
very sad.
And then, out of the soft murmurs of the summer
night, there grew a strange new sound. At first it
seemed merely a movement of the air, a peculiar
thrilling vibration. But gradually it grew into a
note, a high, weird musical note, alluring, electri-
fying. Scotty raised his head from the grass.
"What's that, Grandaddy? " he asked sharply. Big
Malcolm did not answer ; he was sitting bolt upright,
alert, tense, listening as if for his life. For a moment
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 155
the sound faded away, there was a wondering silence.
And then, suddenly, a little pine-scented breeze came
sweeping up from Lake Oro; and on it, high, clear,
entrancing, commanding, came again that wild pene-
trating call the bagpipes! playing up gloriously
the MacDonalds' pibroch !
Big Malcolm leaped to his feet. It was the first
time he had heard that sound since it came ringing to
him over the heather moors of his native land. The
pipes! The pipes on the hills of Oro! There was
neither prophecy nor precept, no, nor iron bands that
could have held him at that moment. With a wild
outpouring of Gaelic, he sprang forward, overturn-
ing the bench and the water-bucket by the doorstep ;
and, coatless and hatless, went tearing across the
fields and down the road in obedience to that impera-
tive call.
" Granny, Granny ! " cried Scotty, running indoors
in alarm, " what's gone wrong with Grandaddy, will
he be gone daft ? "
Granny raised her hands in amazement and stood
listening.
" Eh, eh ! " she cried, " it will be the pipes ! Och,
och, lad, things will be going wrong with Grandaddy
now ! "
The great day, the 12th of July, dawned radiant
156 THE SILVER MAPLE
in sunshine like any other Canadian summer day.
Mr. Nash had made tremendous preparations for his
guests. He had his family up long before dawn and
by dint of much fluency of language, for which he
was famous, managed by eleven o'clock to have the
banquet in readiness. Tables were set in the dining-
room and barroom, which two chambers constituted
the ground floor of the hotel proper. The lean-to
kitchen at the back was steaming with all the good
things Mrs. Nash and her daughters and the assisting
neighbours had prepared; and by half -past eleven
the host, in a clean shirt and his Sunday trousers,
stood on the front step ready to receive with due cere-
mony the expected company.
Store Thompson's place across the way was sur-
rounded by a crowd of eager spectators, for such a
spectacle as a procession had not been witnessed in
the Glen within the memory of the earliest settler.
Then there were rumours of trouble too ; Pat Murphy
and his friends were there ready to produce it; and
besides, everyone suspected that the MacDonalds had
some scheme afoot. Store Thompson himself was
excited. He had not seen Big Malcolm for more
than a fortnight, and he was anxious about his war-
like friend. Surely, he told himself a dozen times,
Malcolm would never break forth into strife again
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 157
after the stand he had been taking during the past
few winters for the bettering of the community. And
yet, as the kindly old gentleman confided to Sandy
Hamilton, who had stopped the mill and come up to
see what was transpiring, he could not help feeling
" a wee thing apprehensive-like."
A few minutes before twelve, the appointed hour
for the procession to appear, the patience of the
crowd was rewarded. Pat Murphy had just assem-
bled his satellites in the middle of the road and was
haranguing them and, incidentally, all the town-
ship of Oro upon their duties, when a loud, shrill
yell from the hilltops rent the air; there was a dull
thud, thud of marching feet. The procession was
coming ! For a moment nationalities and creeds were
both forgotten in a common desire to witness the
spectacle. English, Irish, and Scotch crowded ea-
gerly into the road; every eye was turned towards
the south hill. Yes, the procession was certainly com-
ing, but what was this unearthly noise it was making?
And where were the fifes and the drums? And why,
in the name of all the cardinal points, was it coming
down the north hill from the Oa, instead of from the
Flats?
And then there were no more questions, but just
a sea of silent faces held upwards in gaping amaze-
158 THE SILVER MAPLE
ment, for out from the pine grove of the northern
river-bank, with a shriek of pipes and a flutter of
plaids, whirled Fiddlin' Archie MacDonald in full
Highland costume; and behind him, armed and
menacing, tramped every available male of the clan
MacDonald, from Long Lauchie's seventeen-year-old
Peter, up to yes, alas for the new era and its re-
forms ! Big Malcolm himself, all in perfect time to
the wild yell of the MacDonald pibroch !
Down they swept like a Highland charge, the
pipes screaming out a fierce challenge to anyone
reckless enough to stand in their path, and awaken-
ing such warlike echoes in the Oro hills as they had
not given back since the days when they rang to
the war-whoop of Huron and Iroquois braves.
And, indeed, had an army of redskins in war paint
and feathers appeared upon the hill, it is doubtful
if it would have created any more excitement. For,
though the Oa was a Highland settlement, the bag-
pipes had hitherto been an unknown instrument in
the township of Oro. Hard work and hard times
had precluded the indulgence in any such luxury,
so the startled population of the valley witnessed
for the first time that magnificent combination of
sight and sound known as a Highland Piper.
Upon Pete Nash the effect was almost disastrous.
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 159
The expectant host had been fortifying himself
rather copiously against the duties and trials of
the day, and his brain was in no condition to bear
any such strain as the appearance of Fiddlin' Archie
put upon it.
At the first sound he rushed into the road, his
eyes bulging with horror, his hands held up as if
to ward off a blow. For Peter had once been a
good Catholic and knew he was committing a deadly
sin in harbouring these Orange heretics; and here,
surely, were the hosts of the Evil One, coming with
shrieks of wrath to snatch away his guilty soul in
the midst of his iniquity. His distracted wife bounded
after him, a half -washed frying pan in one hand, a
dishcloth in the other; and seeing what was descend-
ing upon them she dropped both utensils and wailed,
" Och, the Powers come down, Pater ! is it Gabriel's
trump, then ? "
No one noticed the stricken pair, for all eyes were
fixed upon the advancing column. Right up to the
tavern door it marched, and when the pipes ceased
with a final defiant yelp, Big Malcolm, his eyes blaz-
ing, his head erect, stepped forward and addressed
the still trembling, but much relieved, proprietor.
"We will be needing our dinner, Peter," he said
very mildly, " for we would be having a long walk,
160 THE SILVER MAPLE
and mebby some work ahead of us, whatever, so I
hope you will jist be bringin' it on queek."
There was something in the intense politeness of
Big Malcolm's tone that aroused Mr. Nash's worst
fears ; a MacDonald was never so dangerous as when
he was courteous.
" And is it dinner for all this raft ye'll be after
wantin', Malcolm MacDonald ? " he cried in alarm.
" Sure, ye know I can't give ye a bite nor sup the
day, man ; the byes from the Flats "
" Whisht yer tongue, Pete Nash ! " Big Malcolm's
suavity vanished like a wisp of straw in a flame.
" Bring on yer grub, man, or " he brought down
his big fist upon the nearest table with a crash that
made both the crockery and its owner leap " we'll
be eating your old carcass on the doorstep ! "
Mr. Nash gave a prompt and obsequious obedience.
The Fighting MacDonalds individually must ever be
treated with respect, but the Fighting MacDonalds
in a body! Surely not the most vivid Orangeman
could blame him in his extremity. Perhaps the dis-
tracted landlord felt that, after all, here was a provi-
dential means of escape from the crime he had been
about to commit, for very soon he had all Glencoe
seated about the well-spread tables, devouring the
banquet prepared for William of Orange.
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 161
The MacDonalds attacked the unholy viands with a
zest that not even a long tramp and a pioneer appetite
could quite explain. Mrs. Nash flew back and forth
hospitably, explaining to her satellites, to cover up
any apparent irregularity in her husband's sudden
change of patronage, that indeed they were always
pleased to have the MacDonalds with them, and that
she, for one, was very glad to see a Scotchman dressed
the right way.
" Sure Oi've got a sister in the owld country, mar-
ried to a Scotchman, thin," she explained quite
proudly to Judy Connors. " He's in a Kiltie rig'ment,
an' his name's Pat O'Nale, an' aw now, it was him
that had the foine way o' swishin* his kilt whin he
walked, indade ! "
Meantime the feast was progressing; the great
roasts of pork, the pies, the cakes, and the puddings
were vanishing like the snow on a March noonday,
when once more the assembly outside the tavern was
electrified, this time from the proper source. For
from the summit of the north hill there arose such
a mighty banging and tooting as might have been
heard had the new sawmill, lately built on the shore
of Lake Simcoe, taken legs and gone on a mad ex-
cursion up over the Oro hills.
Down the slope with waving banners and thump-
162 THE SILVER MAPLE
ing drums rode King William himself in brave array,
mounted on a white steed which bore a strong resem-
blance to Tom CaldwelPs old grey mare, and followed
by a troop of loyal subjects, all to the stirring squeak
of " The Protestant Boys."
At the sight of this magnificent army marching
straight into the jaws of disaster, Pat Murphy ut-
tered a yell of triumph that put the fifes and drums
to shame. Reckless with joy, he flew into the mid-
dle of the road, and standing there facing the oncom-
ing multitude, his wild eyes blazing, his red beard and
hair flaring out in all directions, he shook his huge
fist at the unoffending skies and called upon the
sun and the moon and all things created to witness
the downfall of his enemies.
Fortunately for the usurpers, the steed of state
which King William bestrode, though old and de-
crepit, still adhered to a youthful habit of shying,
or the procession might never have reached the Mac-
Donalds. But, as the old grey mare approached the
raving obstacle in her path, she swerved coquettishly
and King William curvetted round his enemy with
royal indifference. His subjects wisely followed his
example ; the procession divided and streamed noisily
on both sides of the profane wedge which had cloven
it, and which gallantly held its position waving its
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 163
arms and howling forth derision until the last
Orangemen had swept past.
But as the revellers tooted their victorious way
down the street towards the tavern, a strange sensa-
tion of impending disaster made itself felt. The
unwelcome fact began to dawn upon the Orangemen
that the clamour about them was neither composed
of acclamation, nor yet of the expected tumult of
the outraged Murphys.
The suspicion grew to a horrible certainty by the
time their destination was reached, and the instant the
procession halted, King William, forgetting his royal
dignity, scrambled from his horse and led a hasty
charge against the doors and windows of the tavern.
Their apprehension had been too correct. There,
sitting at the Orangemen's feast, were forty-nine
armed MacDonalds, while the fiftieth swept round
the tables, his plaid flying, his kilt waving, his rib-
bons streaming, and his pipes shrieking as if they
would fain split the roof!
It was a crucial moment for the Glen ; and, look-
ing from his vantage point on the verandah, Store
Thompson held his breath. That the Orangemen
even hesitated to pitch themselves headlong upon the
usurpers showed that in the past two years the forces
that make for law and order had been steadily work-
164 THE SILVER MAPLE
ing. However it might be, they hesitated. Perhaps
they were assisted to a pacific decision by the sight
before them. There is nothing so disastrous to a
man's fighting qualities as an empty stomach. King
William and his followers looked at their dinner rap-
idly disappearing into the capacious interiors of
Glencoe; they looked at the stout clubs beneath the
table; they glanced over their shoulders at Pat
Murphy and his men, waiting eagerly for the Mac-
Donalds to strike; they gazed at the terrible spec-
tacle of Fiddlin' Archie, whirling round the room in
an eddy of defiant yells; and the sights counselled
discretion, rather than valour.
Slowly and sullenly they began to fall back from
the doors and windows. Even King William was
about to join the retreat when, in glaring fiercely
round the tables, his eye chanced to fall upon the
man whose family was so soon to be connected with
his own. At the sight, the royal rage, already at
boiling point, burst all bounds. Sticking his crowned
head far in through the window, and forgetting that
he had made a league with the MacDonalds to bring
about a season of peace and good-will in the com-
munity, Mr. Caldwell burst into wild and profane
vituperation. Commencing with Big Malcolm at
the head of the table, and, taking each in turn, he
AVENGING OF GLENCOE 165
roundly and lengthily denounced the MacDonalds
and all their generation; and ended his mad tirade
by vowing by all things in heaven and on earth that
before a daughter of his should unite with any such
scum of savagery as was produced in the Oa, her
father would strike her dead!
Such snatches of the royal ultimatum as managed
to penetrate the scream of the pipes the MacDonalds
heard in silence. Occasionally a pair of fierce eyes
would dart a look of inquiry towards the leader, and
once or twice Weaver Jimmie half rose from the
table; but, with wonderful endurance, Big Malcolm
held his men and himself down. He had broken his
great resolution, but even in his abandonment he could
not quite get away from the strong influence at
home. No, he would not fight, not unless Tom Cald-
well pressed him too hard, and this refusal to accept
Callum into his family was nothing short of a
blessing.
At last, through sheer dearth of remaining epi-
thets, the royal address came to a termination. With
much brandishing of fists and shouting of threats,
the chagrined and hungry would-be revellers melted
away before the sound of the MacDonalds' jig and
the Murphys' jeers.
And when the last atom of the banquet had been
166 THE SILVER MAPLE
demolished and the landlord paid to the utmost farth-
ing the MacDonalds arose, and, headed by their piper,
went roaring up to their native hills, fired with the
triumphant assurance that they had that day per-
formed a great and glorious deed, and that at last
Glencoe had been avenged.
vm
THE END OF THE FEUD
There was a time I learned to hate,
As weaker mortals learn to love;
The passion held me fixed as fate,
Burned in my veins early and late,
But now a wind falls from above-
The wind of death, that silently
Enshroudeth friend and enemy.
ETHELWYK WETHERALD.
TO Scotty the days following upon the
Orangemen's defeat were filled with misery.
Even when he spent the time at Kirsty's,
fishing in the streams or racing in the woods with
Isabel, he could never quite forget that there was
trouble in the lately happy home beneath the Silver
Maple. For Granny's face was full of pain and
anxiety, though she was so brave and patient; and
Grandaddy walked the floor at nights or tramped
up and down beneath the stars, and Callum was
silent and gloomy.
Scotty did not understand just how much reason
Callum had for gloom. That young man had to con-
167
168 THE SILVER MAPLE
tend with foes both at home and abroad. Tom Cald-
well had lost no time, upon his return home the never-
to-be-forgotten night of the Orangemen's downfall,
in making very clear to his daughter his views upon
the burning MacDonald question. Nancy had re-
sponded, with her usual spirit, by declaring that, when
the day arrived, she would marry Callum Fiach if
the heavens fell. The father understood his daugh-
ter's spirit and took no risk; the Caldwell home-
stead was guarded by armed men in quite a mediaeval
fashion; Nancy was kept in strict seclusion and a
cordial invitation was sent to Callum to come on the
wedding day with all the MacDonalds he could mus-
ter and take his bride.
Callum would have gladly accepted the challenge
had there been any hope of assistance. But when
Big Malcolm returned from the glorious defeat of
the Orangemen, his spirit still aflame, the sight of
his son, who had taken no part in their triumph,
stirred him to fierce resentment.
" Callum ! " he cried sternly, " I will be hearing
no more about you and any o' yon low Eerish crew.
It is not for my son to be disgracing the MacDonalds
after this day's work ! "
Callum's face went suddenly white and he rose
from the table. " If you mean Nancy Caldwell," he
THE END OF THE FEUD 169
cried, " let me be telling you that I'll marry her if
she was the daughter o' the Deil, himself ! "
Big Malcolm rose to his feet also, and the two men
faced each other fiercely. " The day ye marry any
kin to that son o' Belial, Callum MacDonald," he
roared, shaking his fist in his son's face, " you will
be no more a son of mine ! "
Callum laughed harshly, and flung out of doors.
Scotty's big heart swelled to bursting. Grandaddy
and Callum quarrelling! It was too awful to be be-
lieved. He dared not look at Granny's face, for he
dreaded what he would see there, but he crept up
close to where she sat by the bare table, her face in
her hands, her breath coming in long sobs. Granny's
heart was breaking, he was sure, and his own heart
was breaking, too, for her, and for Callum, and for
everyone.
The days that followed did not lighten the misery.
Big Malcolm's repentance came over him like a flood
of many waters. He left the farm to the care of the
boys, and sat in the house, or wandered in the fields,
plunged in the deepest humiliation and despair. One
look at his wife's sad face would drive him to the
bani or the woods, where he would sit, Job-like, and
curse the day he was born. Like Job, too, he had
three comforters who, though well-meaning and kind,
170 THE SILVER MAPLE
served only to deepen his spiritual gloom. Neither
Store Thompson's solemn admonitions nor Praying
Donald's hints of stern retribution were calculated
to relieve his mind; and when Long Lauchie came
across the fields on a Sabbath afternoon to mourn
over him and see dire fulfilment of prophecy in his
woeful case, he was driven to the verge of desperation.
There was no pleasure at home, and whenever
Scotty had an opportunity he went visiting in the
direction of Kirsty's. Isabel's companionship af-
forded him much solace, and through her wonderful
ingenuity came at last a way out of his despair.
At first he had been reluctant to confide his trou-
bles even to her; he knew that Granny would speak
of them to no one except the one great Comforter,
no, not even to Kirsty's mother; so he nursed his
mournful secret through one long miserable day.
But Isabel's eyes were very bright and soon spied
the trouble in Scotty's face. So one day, as they
sat on the edge of the old log bridge and swung
their feet in the cool, brown water, he opened his
heart fully.
To the boy's relief she seemed to think none the
less of Callum for wanting to marry an Irish girl.
Some Irish people weren't bad, she declared. For
her Uncle Walter and Aunt Eleanor were half Irish,
THE END OF THE FEUD 171
Maybe she was some Irish herself, she generously
conceded, but, at Scotty's look of incredulous dismay,
she hastily concluded that she must be entirely and
exclusively Scotch. But there was Danny Murphy,
that nice boy who brought her the maple sugar and
the butternuts, he was Irish; yes, and old Brian,
their coachman, was Irish and said " begorra," and
Brian was a dear. And very likely Nancy must
be one of the nice Irish, or Callum would not want
to marry her. And if they did not let him marry
her, then that would be an awful thing, for if Cal-
lum failed to appear on the wedding day Nancy
would certainly take the heartbreak, like Aunt
Eleanor, and be sick forever and ever, and have to
lie for days in a dark room and have headaches and
nasty medicine.
Scotty's heart was wrung at the awful prospect.
Was Isabel sure ? Why, of course, she knew all about
heartbreak and disappointments and such things.
Scotty declared desperately that something must be
done. And without an instant's meditation Isabel
burst forth with the brilliant suggestion why could
they not take their pirate ship, sail down the Oro
to the Flats and carry Nancy off bodily?
Scotty was dazzled. This was a thrilling project,
entailing, as it did, an adventure in their wonderful
172 THE SILVER MAPLE
vessel. For some time before the close of school
he and Danny Murphy had been copartners in a
tremendous secret enterprise. Down in the green
tunnel made by the " Birch Crick," where it foamed
along through a tangle of timber and underbrush,
until it found its way into the Oro, they had discov-
ered, early that spring, a derelict punt. This craft
had come like an answer to prayer ; they had patched
it up, launched it, and, before the holidays, had
spent aboard its rotten timbers days of perfectly
abandoned joy. Several times, indeed, they had
made adventurous voyages out upon the Oro itself,
and had had hairbreadth escapes, for the vessel
leaked and accidents were frequent. But every boy
of Number Nine school was an amphibious animal,
and such small things as shipwrecks mattered little.
With the close of school these happy excursions had
to be given up. Only once had the boys been on a
voyage since, and then Isabel had accompanied them,
and they had not gone far. But here was a chance
to go on a wonderful tour. They would sail down
to the Flats and steal Nancy; perhaps they would
even take a voyage down to Lake Simcoe and away
out upon the Atlantic Ocean and have fights with
pirates and Fenians. Scotty's ambition was fired
tc be away at once, but there was one trouble Isabel
THE END OF THE FEUD 173
herself. She was all right at home, but her habit
of hanging on to his coat with both hands when dan-
ger threatened would be embarrassing in public, and
he did not even dare to think what Danny would
say if he saw him in such a disgraceful plight. And
then he conceived the rest of the brilliant plan him-
self. They would not steal Nancy away this time,
but they would go to the Birch Crick, and if Danny
was there they would send a message by him to Nancy,
asking her if she would not like to be kidnapped, and
he mentally resolved that Isabel could be put off
while he and Danny performed the glorious deed.
Isabel, quite innocent of his traitorous plot,
agreed to this modification of her plan; and the
next morning, having obtained Kirsty's reluctant per-
mission to go on an indefinite fishing expedition, they
set off down the Scotch Line, bursting with excite-
ment.
The Birch Creek crossed the road, flowing cool
and brown beneath the old log bridge; a fine place
for paddling with bare feet, but the two adven-
turers had no time for any such trivial pastime.
They plunged into the undergrowth and followed the
stream through a riotous confusion of long grasses
and shrubs, where the yellow touch-me-not, the pink
willow weed, the tall white turtle-head, and the blaz-
174. THE SILVER MAPLE
ing golden-rod grew in a tangle of wild beauty.
They scrambled along with joyous shouts, sometimes
on land, more often in the water. Frequently they
had to stoop and crawl beneath the green canopy of
birch and elm and willow that covered the stream and
through which the golden sunbeams scarcely strug-
gled to the cool, brown surface. Out in the open
spaces the dragon fly darted here and there like a
little blue spear. The shy trout fled dismayed before
the two noisy intruders; the waxen blossoms of the
arrowhead, the broad shining leaves and golden-
hearted blossoms of the water lily and the stately blue
spikes of the pickerel weed bent before their ruth-
less tramping. A kingfisher, startled from his day's
work by the uproarious pair, shot down the stream,
his derisive laugh echoing far through the leafy
avenue. The two almost forgot the great import of
their journey in its delight. Scotty splashed ahead,
capering from fallen log to sunken stump ; and after
him came his faithful follower, bespattered with mud,
dripping wet, even to the crown of her golden curls,
and filling the air with her joyous shrieks of laughter
over Scotty's wild antics.
And to crown their happy excursion, as they came
round a sudden bend in the stream, there came a
splashing sound ahead; a welcoming shout greeted
THE END OF THE FEUD 175
them, and here was Danny sailing down upon them,
his red head shining like a beacon in the stern of the
pirate ship ! They wasted very little time in making
known the grave reason for their visit, and to their
surprise they found that Danny knew much more
about the Caldwell-MacDonald trouble than they
did.
Sure, wasn't his brother Mike telling them only
last night that Nancy wasn't allowed to go outside
the gate, though she fought like a tiger about it;
and Tom Caldwell had said he'd kill Callum Fiach
if he came near the place ; and Nancy had said she'd
murder anybody that laid a finger on him. Nancy
was good stuff, and if there was any scheme for out-
witting the Caldwells, Danny was their man.
But this was grave news, and somewhat dampening
to the ardour of the adventurous spirits.
So they pulled the old punt up under the birches
and sat in it with their three heads, black, gold and
red, very close together, and concocted a new plan.
The line of procedure finally settled upon was not
quite so romantic as Scotty had intended, but it an-
swered. Danny had access to the Caldwell home;
no one would suspect him; he must see Nancy, and
offer their services as well as those of their vessel,
and meanwhile Scotty was to interview Callum, and
176 THE SILVER MAPLE
if he had any message to send to Nancy, then Danny
would carry it.
They all went home bursting with their prodigious
secret; and Scotty, whose forest breeding had made
reticence easy, never ceased all the way home to warn
Isabel of the fearful consequences of disclosure.
He could scarcely wait for an opportunity to speak
to Callum alone, but at last supper was over and the
chores all done; and he crept out to the barn where
he had seen the young man disappear. He found him
in the loft, lying gloomily upon the hay; and, hesi-
tating and fearful lest Callum would ridicule or blame
him for his interference, he made his confession. Cal-
lum suddenly sat up and gazed into the bright eager
face with its big sparkling eyes. He sprang to his
feet.
" Horo ! " he shouted, and catching the boy up
flung him over his head into the hay ; and when Scotty
came laughing and breathless to his feet he was filled
with amazement and concern to see that there were
tears in Callum's eyes.
And so a letter was carried, but not without dif-
ficulties encountered. Kirsty proved the first ob-
stacle. She declared she was just going to put a
stop to such stravogin', and would not let the lass
go near that dirty crick again, for she always came
THE END OF THE FEUD 177
home wringing wet. Isabel swept away this barrier
in a flood of tears, and all other difficulties were met
and dealt with in an equally summary manner.
Danny's dangerous part of the task was executed
with wonderful skill and an answer was piloted safely
back.
They were all three somewhat disappointed when
Callum announced that the proceedings must stop
there. Danny was inclined to rebel, and Isabel failed
to explain such conduct. But Scotty found ample
compensation for their restriction in the happy
change in Callum. His old gaiety came back, his
eyes sparkled, and he would snatch up Isabel and go
leaping about the house with her perched shrieking
upon his shoulder, just as he used to do in the happy
days before the Orangemen came to blight their home.
Matters were improving in other places too. Big
Malcolm's second stage of repentance, a period of
prayer and fasting, had passed; he had come once
more into his old contented state, sure of the forgive-
ness of his Heavenly Father for the wrong done, and
determined by His grace never again to fall. News
reached the Oa, too, that Nancy Caldwell had sud-
denly given up her rebellious outbursts and had set-
tled down meekly to her fate, and Tom Caldwell
boasted all over the Flats that she wouldn't take
178 THE SILVER MAPLE
Callum Fiach if all the MacDonalds in the Oa came
to back him up.
And so Scotty found life happy again, and he and
Isabel once more settled down contentedly to house-
keeping beneath the Silver Maple. But the summer
passed and old Brian came and took his comrade
away, and Scotty wept secretly in the haymow all
the evening after her departure.
The next morning he arose with a distinct con-
sciousness of loss sustained. Isabel was not the only
one who had left apparently. When they sat down
to breakfast Callum had not yet appeared. No one
marked his absence until Big Malcolm came in from
the barn.
" Where will Callum be? " he inquired as he helped
himself to his porridge. Rory kept his eyes upon his
plate, but Hamish answered in a troubled tone, " I'll
not know, father. Mebby he would be at the north
clearing, whatever. He would not be coming home
last night."
Big Malcolm continued his meal with knitted brows.
Suddenly he looked up and caught a startled expres-
sion in his wife's eyes.
" What is it? " he asked anxiously.
Mrs. MacDonald's fingers were working tremur
lously with the hem of her apron. " I would be think-
THE END OF THE FEUD 179
ing," she faltered, " it will be the day the day that
was set ! "
" Hoots ! " cried Big Malcolm, " that will be noth-
ing, whatever."
But a sudden ominous silence fell over the break-
fast table; this was to have been Callum's wedding
day, and Callum had not appeared. The stillness was
broken by Bruce, who rose up from underneath the
table with the short bark that announced a well-known
visitor. A shadow fell over the threshold, still pink
in the glow of the rising sun. Big Malcolm looked
up in surprise.
" You will be early, Jimmie ! " he called heartily
as the Weaver stood in the doorway, " come away,
man, and be having a bite ! "
But Weaver Jimmie shook his head ; he stood at the
door struggling with feet and whiskers, and appar-
ently more than usually overcome by embarrassment.
" I would like to be speakin' to you, Malcolm," he
said. There was a look in his face that brought the
three men instantly to the doorway. Scotty, strain-
ing his ears to catch their low remarks, could hear
only, " Run-away Lake Simcoe." Granny arose,
her face white.
" Malcolm," she whispered, " Malcolm, what is this
about our son Callum? "
180 THE SILVER MAPLE
Big Malcolm turned. There was a look in his eyes
that had not been there since the day the Orangemen
were defeated ; but it suddenly faded at the sight of
her white, pained face.
" It will jist be nothing, whatever," he said gently.
" They would be saying the girl was off this morning,
but Jimmie will not be sure. Come, lads."
The four men went away without another word,
passing quickly through the barnyard and up the
path that led into the woods. The mother arose and
knelt by the bedside in the corner so long that Scotty
could bear his burden of guilt no longer. He crept
up to her, and when she put her arms about him he
sobbed out his dreadful secret ; how he and Isabel and
Danny had carried a letter to Nancy, and another one
back to Callum; and perhaps that was what made
Callum run away. And oh, oh, he didn't know it was
wicked or he wouldn't have done it ; only she must not
blame Isabel ; it wasn't her fault.
But Granny blamed no one. She listened gravely
to his story, and to Scotty's supreme relief seemed a
little comforted by it. And she comforted him, too,
patting his head lovingly and declaring that he was
Granny's own boy with the big heart, indeed, and
together they watched and waited through the long
dreary day for the men's return.
THE END OF THE FEUD 181
But Scotty was tired out and gone to bed long
before they came. He was half-awakened in the
night by the sound of voices; strange voices, too;
not angry or clamorous, but hushed and solemn.
Once he distinguished Grandaddy's voice, broken as
though with weeping, and Granny's, too, speaking as
though she were comforting him, but with a sound in
it that made the child's tender heart contract with
pain. There seemed an awesomeness about the
strange, soft movements below that sent a chill over
him. None of the boys had come to bed yet; the
light from below shone up through the cracks in the
floor, and he crept to the hatchway and listened.
And then he distinguished Praying Donald's low, deep
voice raised in supplication; then Grandaddy had
been fighting again and they had come to pray for
him. The boy crept miserably back to his bed and,
childlike, soon fell asleep.
He awoke in the rosy dawn, when the shadows of
the forest still stretched up to the doorstep, and
found to his surprise that Hamish was sitting by his
bedside. He remembered with a chill the anxiety
of the day and the awesomeness of the night before,
and asked suddenly, " Where's Callum? "
But Hamish did not answer directly ; only said that
he must be good and quiet and not ask Granny any
182 THE SILVER MAPLE
questions, and added after a second question that Cal-
lum was gone away. And when would he be back?
He would not be back, Hamish whispered, with his
eyes upon the floor. Would not be back? Scotty
stared uncomprehending. And where was Nancy?
Nancy was with him. Had they gone to the old
country ? he asked in a whisper, but Hamish shook his
head and turned away. The boy's heart seemed held
by an awful dread. He wanted to ask another ques-
tion, and yet he dared not. But as the young man
turned to go down the stairs something in his white
face opened a flood of awful intelligence upon the
boy's mind.
" Hamish," he cried in a sharp whisper, " is is
Callum dead? "
But Hamish made no reply, only gave him a glance
as though he had been smitten with a mortal wound,
and went hurriedly down the stairs.
But Weaver Jimmie told him all about it as soon as
he descended. For, to his surprise, Scotty found not
only Jimmie there, but many others of the neighbours.
Store Thompson's wife sat by the bed in the corner,
and Granny lay upon it white and silent. Something
lay in another corner, stretched upon boards, a figure
so muffled and still that, without knowing why, Scotty
glanced at it with a feeling of terror. Grandaddy
THE END OF THE FEUD 183
was nowhere to be seen; but Praying Donald was
there, reading by the window. His deep voice, hushed
to a solemn, low rumble, filled the room ; " Then they
cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth
them out of their distresses," he was saying, but
Scotty did not listen ; he followed Weaver Jimmie out
to the barn full of awe-stricken questionings. And
Jimmie, his kindly face quivering with sympathy, told
him all. Yes, that still, dark form he had seen in
the corner was Callum; they had brought him home
last night, and had taken Nancy to her home. But
Hamish had said Callum was gone, Scotty argued,
and Nancy with him ; had they come back then ? No,
they had not come back. They had run away and
tried to cross Lake Simcoe in a canoe. A storm had
come up suddenly, and though the Caldwells and the
MacDonalds, who had tracked them to the shore, tried
to rescue them, they were too late. And Callum was
gone, gone never to come back, and Nancy was with
him; and if Store Thompson could get the great
preacher who had lately come to Barbay, they would
bury them both in the Glen to-morrow. Scotty did
not hear any more ; Callum to be buried, and Nancy,
too, to be put away in the ground as they had put
Kirsty's father! He crept off into a corner of the
haymow as soon as Jimmie had left him, and lay there,
184 THE SILVER MAPLE
his curly head hidden deep in the hay, his small body
shaken with long convulsive sobs. Callum, his Cal-
lum, Granny's hero, as well as his own, gone never to
come back !
Voices reached him once, and lest he should be dis-
covered, he pressed his small hands over his quivering
face and manfully strove to hold down his grief.
Praying Donald and Long Lauchie were walking
slowly with bent heads past the open barn door.
" It will be the will of the Almighty to be visiting
us through this calamity," Praying Donald was say-
ing, " but the Father will never be leaving His chil-
dren comfortless, for the man of God himself will
be coming to the funeral."
" McAlpine ? " asked Long Lauchie in an eager
whisper.
" Aye, John McAlpine himself ; the Lord will be
very merciful to us. But, eh, eh, that the man that
poor Malcolm would be praying for all these years
should be coming to us over his dead ! Eh, it will be
a mystery, a mystery ! "
IX
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN
Johnnie Courteau of de mountain,
Johnnie Courteau of de hill;
Dat was de boy can shoot de gun,
Dat was de boy can jomp an' run,
An* it's not very offen you ketch heem still,
Johnnie Courteau!
WILLIAM HENRY DRUMMOND.
SCOTTY was setting out for what he hoped was
his last winter at school. It was a perform-
ance he considered quite too juvenile, and a
single glance at him would convince anyone that it
was high time he had put away childish things. His
great, strong frame, over six feet in his " shoe-
packs," his brawny arms and hands, well developed
under the toil of the axe and the plough, all spoke of
his having reached man's estate. But his growth had
somewhat outrun his years, and he had not yet reached
the age when he might with propriety remain away
from school during the winter. Besides, he had held
a conference with Dan Murphy and " Hash " Tucker
185
186 THE SILVER MAPLE
during the Christmas holidays to consider the matter
of further education. Should they abjure the whole
trivial business, was the question discussed, or should
they attend school this winter just to see what the
new master would be like, and, if possible, make things
lively for him?
The latter course, being the more uncertain, of-
fered the more entertainment and was unanimously
adopted ; so here was the young man, on this dazzling
January morning, swinging along the silent white
forest path, ready for any kind of adventure.
For Scotty had arrived at a period when the un-
known and the forbidden were the alluring, and the
lawful and the restraining were the irksome. Indeed
Rory was wont to grumble that that young Scot was
just going to ruin; he had never been made to mind
anybody when he was little, and now he was just grow-
ing up clean wild. For since Rory had given up fid-
dling and dancing and had settled down with Roarin*
Sandy's Maggie in the north clearing he had become
a very staid householder and frowned upon all youth-
ful frivolity. And though his prophecies were per-
haps overpessimistic, there was undoubtedly some
cause for disapproval in the matter of Scotty's con-
duct. Even Big Malcolm and his wife, who, as old
age advanced, were more and more inclined to make an
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 187
idol of their grandson, could not quite shut their eyes
to his imperfections. He was the same big-hearted
Scotty he had been in his childhood, lavishly generous
and swift to respond to the call of suffering ; but his
high spirits were sometimes too much for the narrow
confines of his life, and he was wont to break out into
wild, mischievous pranks.
During the last winter of poor old McAllister's
feeble misrule, Scotty and his two leal followers, Dan
Murphy and " Hash " Tucker, had contrived to make
the hard name of Number Nine notorious. So long
as the three confined their misdemeanours to the school
the public had winked at them. Disorder and ill-
behaviour always seemed associated with old McAllis-
ter, everyone felt ; and indeed Mr. Cameron, the min-
ister, was suspected by most of the section to have
had reference to the old broken-down school-teacher
when he preached that solemn discourse upon the blind
leaders of the blind. As the sermon was delivered on
the Sabbath after Scotty and Dan had knocked over
the stovepipes and almost burned down the school-
house, Store Thompson declared he was " convinced
of the certainty of the application-like."
But when the boys perpetrated acts of lawlessness
beyond the precincts of school life people began to
look upon them askance. Scotty had distinguished
188 THE SILVER MAPLE'
himself rather unpleasantly on the last Hallowe'en;
for besides the usual small depredations which every-
one expected on that historic night, someone had gone
to the extremity of elevating Gabby Johnny Thomp-
son's wagon, heavily loaded with grain, to the top of
the barn; and everyone in the Oa knew that nobody
would have conceived of such a daring thing except
Big Malcolm's Scot.
Of course, the neighbours could not fail to see some
poetic justice in the affair, for Gabby Johnny, who
was famed for his astute bargaining, had been voic-
ing a wailing desire for high wheat ever since that
grain had begun to grow along the banks of the Oro.
Nevertheless, though the neighbours might secretly
approve of such retributive acts of Providence, the
medium through which they descended was liable to
be regarded with disfavour.
For while Scotty was growing up the social life of
the Oro valley had been undergoing a great trans-
formation. John McAlpine, that great preacher whose
words always awoke his hearers to a terrible realisa-
tion of the solemnity of life and the certainty of
death, had come to the Glen with his imperative call
to higher things. And at his coming the Sun of
Righteousness had arisen over the Oro hills and the
whole countryside had awakened to a new day.
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 189
Other influences had been at work, too ; the spirit
of the pioneer days was passing with the forests, the
little isolated circles of cleared land had widened out
and merged into each other like the rings on the sur-
face of the Oro pools, and with the broader outlook
came gentler manners and more tolerant views. Then
this young land was slowly but surely absorbing into
her own personality all the discordant elements and
making of them a great nation; for within the last
few years a new race had sprung up in the Oro valley,
a race that was neither English, Irish, nor Scotch,
Highland nor Lowland, but a strange mixture of all,
known as Canadian. The community in the Glen had
grown to quite a respectable village, the post office
adding a touch of dignity and necessitating the new
name, the name of Glenoro. And best of all, there
was the church just at the bend in the river, with the
manse beside it where the minister lived; and such
had been its influence that a fight at the corner now
would have brought a shock to the whole township.
So Scotty and his followers did not properly belong
to these improved times ; they were mediaeval. The
boy had been too young when Mr. McAlpine came to
be deeply affected by his great sermons ; but he had
not outlived the stirring memory of the old fighting
days when Callum kept the Oa lively. Callum was
190 THE SILVER MAPLE
still his hero, the dear old handsome Callum, of whom
he could never think even yet without a pang of re-
gret. Hamish and Rory had grown beyond him with
the years, but Callum was always young and bright
and dashing; and Scotty was determined to be like
him and to do the great deeds Callum would certainly
have done had it not been for his untimely end.
The bell was ringing when the three conspirators
met at the school pump. Number Nine had a bell
now, and there was even some agitation for a new
building. Poor old McAllister's wasted life had gone
out the autumn before like the quenching of a smoul-
dering fire, and now that a new man was to take his
place the section was beginning to pick up courage
and look for a hopeful future.
The young men lounged in at the end of the pro-
cession and flopped into their seats with the proper
air of insupportable boredom. Scotty's first task was
to take the measure of his new instructor. At the
first glance he was conscious of a distinct sensation
of disappointment. He had expected the stranger
to be young and callow, but this man had grey hair
and was apparently nearing middle age. His face,
which was pale and showed signs of ill-health, was
clearly cut and refined. His frame was well-built and
wiry, and he had a pair of steady grey eyes and a
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 191
quiet, dignified manner which seemed strangely in-
congruous in the position old McAllister had so long
made ridiculous.
Nevertheless Scotty regarded him with strong dis-
favour. His white collar, his smooth hair and his
English way of sharply clipping off his words
stamped him as hopelessly " stuck-up " ; and Dan
Murphy reported with derisive joy that he had worn
gloves to school, a weakness of which no one who
called himself a man would be guilty. Besides all
this, he had obtained his position through Captain
Herbert; indeed, he had been a close friend of the
Captain when they lived in Toronto, it was rumoured,
and he probably belonged to the aristocracy, who were
hated of Scotty's soul. On the other hand, he wasn't
an Englishman, for his name was Archibald Monteith,
that was one thing in his favour; but he stood for
order and good behaviour, and the young man was
arrayed against all such.
The new master himself was quietly taking note
of his surroundings. He had been thoroughly in-
formed of the bad character of Number Nine, both by
Captain Herbert and the trustees, not to speak of the
unsolicited advice and information that had been
pouring in upon him ever since his arrival. Upon
the first night of his stay at Store Thompson's, a
192 THE SILVER MAPLE
burly man with a great bushy head and beard had
come suddenly upon him; and after a warm hand-
shake and welcome had given him absolute power in
the matter of dealing with his family.
" You lay it onto my Danny," was the generous
admonition. " Sure, the young spalpeen's mad wid
the foolish goin's on, an' it's a latherin' he needs ivery
day. You mind an' lay it onto Danny ! "
Quite as cordial but more ominous had been the ad-
vice proffered by Gabby Johnny Thompson. In his
capacity of Secretary-Treasurer of the School Board
that gentleman felt it incumbent upon him to inform
the novice of the unsounded depths of iniquity he had
to deal with in Number Nine. His darkest hints re-
lated to " yon ill piece o' Big Malcolm MacDonald's."
A scandalous young deil he was, and Mr. Monteith
would have to keep an eye on him, for him and yon
young Papish of a Murphy were a bad pair. It was
young Scot Malcolm who had nearly burned the
school down, over McAllister's head; yes, and would
have burned up old McAllister, too, without a
thought, he was that thrawn and ill.
Monteith was regarding with deep interest the
owner of this evil reputation. He was a rare reader
of character, and understood at once the nature of
Scotty's malady. His man's frame and boy's face,
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 193
his keen, bright, inquiring eyes, and the signs of
abounding life, all fully explained the cause of the
trouble. The schoolmaster found something irresist-
ibly attractive about the boy too ; there were signs of
intellect in every line of his face, and he dearly loved
brains.
As the school passed out for their morning inter-
mission he beckoned the youth to him. Dan Murphy
made a covert grimace expressive of his whole being's
revolt against any such degrading task, and Scotty
went forward reluctantly. He wanted to disobey,
but the man's courtesy held him.
An old school register in which were written some
seventy names lay open on the desk.
" I am hopelessly entangled in all these Mac-
Donalds," said the new master, in a tone one man
would use in addressing another. " Here are four
Betseys and six Johnnies, and Donalds without num-
ber. Would you be so good as to assist me? "
Scotty's inbred Highland courtesy and the gener-
ous desire to help which was part of his nature, im-
pelled him to answer politely. Striving to ignore the
violent pantomime being enacted by Dan in the porch,
he gave the man the key to the situation. His big
finger ran awkwardly down the page as he gave the
name by which each pupil was known. The stranger
194 THE SILVER MAPLE
listened in some amusement and not a little bewilder-
ment to the list : Roarin' Sandy's Donald, Crooked
Duncan's Donald, Peter Archie Red's Donald. They
were rather unwieldy, but he planted them down
heroically, and then proceeded to disentangle the
Murphys and the Tuckers after the same fashion.
" I am very much obliged to you," he said with
the same quiet seriousness when the work was finished,
and Scotty took his seat wondering if the new master
ever smiled. Most likely that grave, unbending man-
ner was just the natural outcome of his inevitably
stuck-up nature, he reflected.
Affairs went harmoniously enough until school was
dismissed for the noon recess. As soon as the word
was given dinner-pails were seized, bread-and-butter,
meat, pie, and cake began to appear and disappear
again with equal rapidity; a crowd of the bigger
girls made preparations for brewing tea on the stove ;
and before the new master could get on his overcoat
and gloves preparatory to leaving, dinner was well
under way, and the room was filled with a strong
aroma of tea and pork.
Scotty had gone to the door to administer a fare-
well snowball to the unclassified aliens who went home
to the village for dinner. A prompt answer came
hurtling back, and as he dodgod into the porch with
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 195
a derisive yell of laughter, he barely escaped knock-
ing over the new master. He hastily stepped aside
to let him pass, but the man paused.
" I forgot to ask you your own name, among all
the others," he said, more for the sake of engaging
the youth in conversation than to gain information.
" You are a MacDonald, too, I believe? "
Scotty had long passed the time when he felt his
English name a disgrace. Of course he would have
preferred one of another sort, but he scarcely
thought of it now, and most of his schoolmates had
forgotten that he possessed one. And, in the face of
this grave man's courtesy, he felt it would be childish
to pretend, so he answered, not without some dignity,
" No, my name will not be MacDonald, it will be Stan-
well, Ralph Stanwell."
The new master's grey eyes grew suddenly narrow ;
he was well acquainted with all the small tricks to be
played upon a newcomer, and had many a time seen
this one of a fictitious name successfully practiced.
He had been prepared to find this boy hard to man-
age, but he was disgusted that he should descend to
such a small, childish prank. He knew Scotty's
name only too well, and, in any case, for a youth with
a marked Highland accent, dressed in the grey home-
spun which seemed the uniform of clan MacDon-
196 THE SILVER MAPLE
aid, to stand before him and give himself such a name
as this was as stupid as it was insulting.
" That is a very clumsy lie," he remarked quietly.
Scotty dropped his snowball and stared; for a
moment he did not quite comprehend.
" What ? " he cried artlessly. His look of innocent
amazement doubled his listener's indignation.
" I said," returned the man very distinctly, " that
you have told me a lie, and a very stupid one, for I
know your name to be Scot MacDonald, and a rather
notorious one you have made it, too."
And turning his back in disgust, the new master
walked quietly down the snowy road. For an instant
Scotty stood glaring after him, every drop of his
rebellious blood tingling. He snatched up his snow-
ball again and took aim. If he could only smash
that conceited looking hat, or better still, the insuf-
ferable white collar ! But there was something in the
commanding air of the figure that went so steadily
onward, not deigning to look back, that held the boy's
arm.
Instead, he sent the missile crashing into the last
remaining pane in the porch window, and went leap-
ing into the school, determined to find Dan and relieve
his feelings by working some irreparable damage.
The schoolhouse was in a condition to invite depre-
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 197
dations. Late in the previous autumn, as soon as
the news of the new master's expected advent had
come, the matrons of Number Nine had organised a
housecleaning campaign in the school. Store Thomp-
son's wife, that queen of housekeepers, headed the
expedition against dirt, and even the minister's wife
took part. The former lady had long declared that
the condition of the schoolhouse was clean ridic'l'us,
and now demanded that something be done to better
it, for as the new master was coming from the Cap-
tain's he was sure to be a gentleman, and most like
would be terrible tidy.
So the army of housekeepers had charged down
upon the schoolhouse, and such a washing and cleans-
ing and renovating as took place had certainly never
been paralleled except when the spring winds and
waters came swirling down the Oro hills. The poor
little building was scarcely recognisable when it
emerged from its baptism of soapy water and white-
wash. The big girls added an artistic touch by
decorating the spotless walls with cedar boughs, until
the place smelled as sweet as the swamps of the Oro ;
and to crown all, the minister presented it with a fine
picture of Queen Victoria to be hung above the
master's desk.
And this was the immaculate condition of the place
198 THE SILVER MAPLE
where, when his dinner was finished, Scotty's roving
eye sought something upon which to work off his
burning indignation.
It had always been the custom heretofore in Num-
ber Nine to employ the noon recess tearing round the
room in a cloud of dust, yelling, throwing ink and
breaking furniture. But to-day the awe of the new
master had had a restraining influence, and most of
the wilder spirits had betaken themselves to an out-
door campaign. So there were only a few of the
smaller pupils and the larger girls grouped round the
stove when Scotty started his new enterprise. The
cedar wreath above the door was quite dry and rather
dusty and offered a fine field for a unique exploit.
Lighting a splinter at the stove, he set fire to the
garland, allowed the flames to mount up, and just as
they threatened to get beyond his control, beat them
out with his cap. The girls shrieked in horror ; Betty
Lauchie screamed that he was a wretch, and the min-
ister himself would be after him, and Biddy Murphy
vowed she'd pull every hair of his worthless head out
for him if he tried it again. But Scotty was joy-
ously reckless and quite beyond fear of even Miss
Murphy.
When Dan returned from the slaughter of the
Philistines, who lived over on the Tenth, he found
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 199
his chum the centre of a wildly excited group, and
engaged in beating out his third conflagration. Dan
was immediately fired to emulation. He would be
disgraced forever in the eyes of the Flats if he al-
lowed Scotty to get ahead of him, and already the
room was filling with admiring MacDonalds and en-
vious Murphys. So, in spite of the imploring shrieks
and commands of the girls, he struck a match and
soon had the festoons along the wall crackling mer-
rily. When this rival blaze was extinguished Hash
Tucker stepped into public notice. Considering his
blood and breeding, this son of the house of Tucker
should have been a phlegmatic Saxon. But no one
can say what Canadian air will do with the blood ; and
under its influence Hash had long ago commenced a
reversion to type, the aboriginal wild Indian. What-
ever Scotty or Dan did therefore, that he could outdo.
Seizing a burning brand from the stove, he scrambled
up on the teacher's rickety old desk, and the next
moment the triumphal arch, reared in honour of the
new master's coming, was in a blaze. But just as
he reached up to beat out the flames he was gripped
violently round the knees, and down he came to the
floor, Scotty on the top of him. Hash roared lustily
for his followers; the Tenth responded gallantly,
Scotty was engulfed in their on-rush, and, to help on
200 THE SILVER MAPLE
the good work, Dan Murphy headed a rescue party
from the Oa to extricate his friend from the yelling
heap.
What the outcome of this affray might have been
is doubtful, but just at its inception a terrified cry of
" fire," from the remainder of the school parted the
combatants. They came to their feet to find the
flames leaping up the walls, and clouds of smoke
rolling through the room.
It was no joke this time and the boys wasted not an
instant. Scotty leaped from the floor to head an
impromptu fire brigade, and for a few moments they
worked desperately. They dragged down the burning
branches and flung them out of doors ; they flew to and
from the pump, they flung snow and water among the
flames, and after a short but desperate struggle the
fire was conquered.
It was all over in a few moments, and the victors
stood, begrimed and breathless, and rather ruefully
surveyed the havoc they had unwittingly wrought.
The lately spotless walls were scorched and black-
ened, the decorations depended from the fastenings,
charred and ugly, and the floor was swimming in inky
water.
" Horo ! " cried Scotty, with a long, dismayed
whistle.
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 201
" It'll be bad for the gent's white collar if he comes
in here," said Dan solemnly. " Murderin' blazes,
who's that? "
Now, it happened that by an evil chance Gabby
Johnny, the Secretary-Treasurer, had been driving
past the school on his way to the woods, and seeing
smoke issuing from the windows of the building over
which he considered himself the especial guardian, he
stopped his team and rushed upon the scene, and there
he stood now, in the silent crowd of frightened girls
and sobered boys, gazing at the devastation with such
an expression of aghast horror, that at the sight
of him all Scotty's compunction vanished and he
laughed aloud.
Gabby Johnny peered through the smoke and dis-
cerned his enemy, evidently rejoicing over his evil
work.
" Ah, ye ill piece ! " he shouted, stepping up to the
boy and shaking his fist in his face, " Ah kenned it
was you! Aye, Ah kenned! If there's ony scan-
dal'us goin's on ye'll be in it ! It's an evil end ye're
comin' til, wi' yer goin's on ; aye, that's what ye are !
Ye neither fear God, nor regard man! Sik a like
onceevilised "
Now Gabby Johnny was prepared upon all occa-
sions to prove his right to his sobriquet, and Dan
202 THE SILVER MAPLE
Murphy well knew he would not stop until he had
driven Scotty to extreme measures, so here he merci-
fully interfered in his friend's behalf. He had no
mind to defy a trustee, so, being of a diplomatic
turn, determined to divert the tide of wrath by the
simple expedient of producing a counter-irritant.
He slipped out quietly from the line of culprits, and
snatching up a well-packed snowball hurled it straight
and true at the team standing in the road. The
missile was a hard one, and the nervous young colts,
their heads erect, their nostrils indignant, went jing-
ling off down the road, their heels sending a fine snow-
storm over the old bobsleigh, leaping in their wake.
Gabby Johnny heard his bells and his eloquence
suddenly ceased. At the same instant Dan burst in
upon him, his eyes starting from his head, his breath
coming in gasps.
" Sure, your team's runnin' away ! " he bawled.
" They're runnin' away ! I can't stop them ; they're
gone clane wild ! "
Gabby Johnny waited neither to hear nor deliver
more. He darted out and down the road, followed
by a hailstorm of snowballs and the joyful cheers of
Number Nine. And as he went he howled breathless
anathemas, alternately at his wayward horses and
back at the yelling mob behind him, both couched in
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 203
language little calculated to raise the moral status
of the already besmirched school.
But the boys' trouble was not over; they returned
from the rout of the trustee only to find the new mas-
ter entering the scene of destruction. He stood and
looked about him with a manner just as quiet, but no
graver, than usual.
" How did the fire start? " he asked calmly.
The dauntless three stepped forward, headed by
Scotty. In the old days confession to McAllister did
not appear in the code of schoolboy honour ; but there
was something about this man, even though Scotty
cordially hated him, which demanded fair dealing.
The new master looked them over in a manner that
was hardly complimentary. His eyebrows rose.
" Children ! " was all he said, but the word made
Scotty writhe. Then he did not scold or rave as the
boys half -wished he would. He quietly dismissed all
but the three culprits, and saying he would give them
that afternoon and the next day to bring the school
back to the condition in which they had found it, and
that done, he would prefer that they remain at home
under their parents' control for a month or so, he
turned on his heel and walked away with an air that
said plainly that this was no affair of his and was
regarded by him with calm indifference.
204 THE SILVER MAPLE
The boys were completely taken aback. Hitherto
school discipline had consisted exclusively of thrash-
ings, which though uncomfortable had some honour
attached. But here was a new departure ; to have to
undo all one's mischief, and then be contemptuously
dismissed was a serious affair. The new master acted
as though he were the King of England too, and cer-
tainly, with Gabby Johnny at his back, he was not to
be trifled with.
When the three arrived the next morning, armed
with whitewash and brushes, Dan and Hash were
rather inclined to feel subdued, but not so Scotty. In
his home discipline was not so rigid as in that of the
other two, and his grandparents had not even heard
of his escapade. And his heart was still raging hot
against the new master. The man had dared to tell
him he lied ! The remembrance of it and Monteith's
air of calm superiority maddened him. How he
longed to knock him down and hear him take back his
statement. Well, he could not do that, it seemed, but
he would wreak his vengeance in some other way.
So with Scotty in this mood the work of reparation
did not go on very steadily. His two companions
tried to attend to business, but soon found it impossi-
ble. They were alone in the forest with unlimited
whitewash ; and with Scotty inciting them to deeds of
RALPH STANWELL AGAIN 205
daring, how could they resist? They started by en-
during their leader's pranks, and ended by embracing
them, and when their morning's task was completed
not even McAllister's ghost, could it have appeared,
would have recognised its old haunts.
Yet no one could say the boys had not done their
work, for they had whitewashed the school with a
thoroughness even Store Thompson's wife would never
have attempted. The only fault was the lack of dis-
crimination shown by the decorators. Some critics
might have considered the coating of the floor and the
desks a work of supererogation. But the boys were
not stingy ; they whitewashed everything with an im-
partial and lavish generosity; the walls, the ceiling,
the blackboard, the furniture. Yes, even the stove and
stovepipes were rubbed until they fairly radiated
whiteness, and stood out spectrally in their pallid sur-
roundings, like the ghost of some departed heater.
Scotty gave the new master's desk an extra coat, and
even polished up a stray book and dinner pail, unluck-
ily left behind the day before, just to have them in
harmony with their environment.
When at last the work was finished and the three
bespattered workmen prepared to depart, Dan de-
clared in an oratorical address delivered from the top
of the master's snowy desk, that they had nobly done
206 THE SILVER MAPLE
their duty, for had they not carried out the new mas-
ter's instructions and whitewashed the school?
And when they turned the white key in the white
door and stole off in three directions through the
forest, bursting with mirth, they vowed they had not
experienced such a season of pure joy since the night
Gabby Johnny's waggon had arisen, like Charles's
Wain, in the heavens!
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD
Not to be conquered by these headlong days,
But to stand free: to keep the mind at brood
On life's deep meaning, nature's altitude
Of loveliness, and time's mysterious ways;
At every thought and deed to clear the haze
Out of our eyes, considering only this,
What man, what life, what love, what beauty is,
This is to live and win the final praise.
ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN.
UPON his return home, Scotty went out be-
hind the house to work off some of his
superfluous mirth upon the woodpile. He
had flung aside his coat and was swinging his axe
vigorously, when, with the quickness of the rural eye
which always spies an approaching figure, he noticed
a man turn in from the highway and walk briskly up
the snowy lane. The boy gave a low whistle ; his face
grew dark with anger. It was the new master ! He
had found out the condition of the school then, and
had come to report to his grandparents. McAllister
at his worst was better than this fellow, for McAllister
was no sneak. But even in his anger, he chuckled
207
208 THE SILVER MAPLE
mischievously when he considered what an exhibition
Monteith would surely make of himself if he at-
tempted to lodge complaints with Big Malcolm
against his grandson.
But instead of turning up the path to the door,
the new master followed the track that led round the
house under the Silver Maple.
At first Scotty was of a mind to dodge round the
woodpile and escape; but he was too late; Monteith
had already caught sight of him ; so he waited, sullen
and defiant.
The new master lost no time in making his errand
known.
" I came to offer an apology, Ralph Stanwell," he
said gravely, " for what I said concerning your
name. I found out my mistake only this afternoon."
Scotty's defiant air changed to one of amazement ;
his eyes fell, he felt suddenly ashamed.
" I hope you will accept an explanation, though it
does not at all atone for what I said," continued the
schoolmaster earnestly. " I am truly ashamed of
myself for making such a stupid blunder."
Scotty squirmed in embarrassment. He had never
in his life witnessed any such dignified reparation of
a wrong, and in contrast, his own late conduct looked
childish and almost barbarous.
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD
" Oh, it will not matter, whatever," he stammered
abruptly, and in a manner much more ungracious
than his feelings warranted.
" But it does matter very much. It was no way
for one man to speak to another."
Scotty experienced a glow of mingled pride and
shame; the new master considered him a man then,
and he had not played the man's part ! " But, you
see," continued Monteith, " I felt so sure. It was
your Highland accent, and your your general Mac-
Donald appearance that to my ignorance made your
statement unbelievable."
The schoolmaster had unwittingly struck the right
chord.
Scotty smiled shyly but amicably. " Oh, it will
be jist nothing," he said generously.
" Won't you shake hands, then, and let me feel I
am quite forgiven ? "
But Scotty did not put out his hand; he stood
shifting from one foot to the other, looking down at
the heap of chips.
" But I would you not be knowing ? " he
faltered.
"Knowing what?"
" That we that I would be making the school-
house worse than ever? "
210 THE SILVER MAPLE
There was a sudden light in Monteith's eyes that
would have surely convinced Scotty, had he seen it,
of the new master's ability to smile.
" Well, perhaps that will help to even things up a
little," he said brightly. " Come, are you willing to
call it quits?"
Scotty put out his big hand swiftly, and felt it
caught in a strong bony grip. And as their hands
met Monteith's stern face suddenly broke out into an
unexpected smile, a smile so brilliant and kindly that
the boy felt it illuminate his whole being, and from
that moment he was the new master's friend.
" And now," said the man, suddenly becoming
grave again, " will you tell me how you come to have
two names? How does a Highland Scot like you
happen to have such a name as Stanwell? "
Scotty gasped ; was he going to ignore the white-
washing altogether?
" It would be my father's," he answered simply,
" but 1 would always be living here with my grand-
father, and I was always called MacDoriald."
"Ralph Stanwell, Ralph Stanwell," repeated the
schoolmaster ruminatingly, " I've heard that name
before. Why, yes ; I wonder if you are any relation
to the Captain Ralph Stanwell I once met in Toronto.
The name is not common."
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD
" My father died there, and my mother, too," was
the answer.
The new master stared. " Surely, surely," he was
saying, half to himself, " it couldn't be possible ;
but his wife's name was MacDonald too! And Her-
bert always said the child died ! "
Under the man's steady gaze Scotty fidgeted with
his axe in combined amazement and embarrassment.
"Was your father's second name Everett? "
" Yes, and that will be mine, too."
The new master stared harder.
" Well, well, well," he muttered, " I wonder if he
knows ! "
The boy stood lost in a wild speculation. . By some
queer trick of memory he was back once more in
Store Thompson's shop, a little curly-headed fellow,
and felt a man's kind, playful hand upon his curls;
and at the sound of his name saw a smiling face grow
suddenly grave with amazement, fear and defiance
chasing one another across it. How was it that, all
through his life, his English name seemed always to
produce consternation?
Monteith shook hini^lf as though awakeoiqg from
a dream.
" 1 beg your pardon," he said hastily, " your
name called up some old memories. And now, I
THE SILVER MAPLE
must be going." He held out his hand again.
" Good-bye, and I thank you for your generosity."
" But but you will not be leaving without your
supper ! " cried Scotty aghast.
" Thank you, but your grandparents are not ex-
pecting me, and "
Scotty stared. " But what difference would that
be making? " he asked artlessly. " It will be all the
better." The new master smiled again at the uncon-
scious hospitality of the remark, and this time ac-
cepted the invitation. Scotty instantly flung aside
his axe, and led the way around to the door.
Monteith had already learned to expect a warm
greeting from the inhabitants of the Oro Highlands,
but he had yet to experience a true Scottish-Canadian
welcome, and was almost overwhelmed by the one he
received in the old house under the Silver Maple.
Big Malcolm met him at the door and made him
welcome in a manner that somehow made the guest
feel that the old man owned the whole township of
Oro and was laying it at his feet. Mrs. MacDonald
drew him up to the fire, bewailing the long cold walk
he had had, and pulling off his overcoat, calling all
the while for Scotty to run and put more wood in
the stove that she might make a fresh cup of tea.
Hamish came hurrying up from the barn to shake the
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 213
guest's hand and make him welcome yet again, and
even Sport, Bruce's successor, leaped round him,
barking joyously, as though he understood that the
arrival of a visitor was the best possible thing that
could happen.
Then, there was Old Farquhar, still cackling
incoherent Gaelic from the chimney corner. Before
the visitor had got the snow swept from his feet the
old man inquired if he had read Ossian's poems, and
finding him in the depths of ignorance regarding that
great bard, turned his back upon him in disgust, and
for the remainder of the afternoon snored grumpily.
The hostess explained apologetically, as she
brought the new master a steaming cup of tea, that
indeed poor Farquhar was the nice, kind body, but he
had had the toothache all last night and would be ter-
rible set on Ossian.
Mrs. MacDonald was growing too old for the
household cares devolving upon her, and Scotty being
her chief help, the housekeeping did not at all com-
pare with what Monteith was accustomed to in his
boarding place at Store Thompson's. But he was
conscious of no lack in the dingy old house. He
recognised the inherent refinement of Mrs. MacDon-
ald's nature, and bowed to it; he knew Big Malcolm
for a gentleman the moment he spoke ; and he saw,
THE SILVER MAPLE
too, something of the mystic in Hamish. For in later
years there had grown an expression in Hamish's kind
brown eyes which the schoolmaster understood the
look of a soul that has longed to soar, but has been
kept down by narrow limitations.
Then the supper was spread upon the table, and
it was all the visitor could desire ; porridge in brown
bowls, smoking and fragrant, sweet white bread, and
bannocks with plenty of maple syrup. And after-
wards, when the supper was cleared away, and Scotty
and Hamish had finished the milking, they all gath-
ered about the stove, which now stood in front of the
old discarded fireplace. First the schoolmaster had
to tell of his life and lineage, during which recital he
proved his Scottish blood to everyone's satisfaction.
There did not seem to be much to tell of his past do-
ings, though in response to the simple, kindly ques-
tionings, he gave it all. He had been born in Scot-
land and was quite alone in Canada, except for Cap-
tain Herbert, who was an old friend, and whose wife
had been a distant relative. He had studied law for
some years, but his health had failed before his course
was completed. Then he had knocked about the
world a good deal, and had come north at Captain
Herbert's advice to see if the Oro air would not do
him good.
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 215
" Indeed, and it will that ! " Big Malcolm declared
heartily. " Jist you eat plenty o' pork and oatmeal
porridge and you'll be a new man in no time. Hoots,
when we would be coming here first folk would never
be sick like now-a-days ; and indeed it wasn't often a
man died except a tree would be falling on him,
whatever."
" Those must have been fine times," said the
schoolmaster smilingly; and thereupon his host and
hostess launched into long tales of the old days, when
the forest came up to the door, and of those older
and happier days in the homeland across the sea.
Big Malcolm and his wife lived much in the past
now, and, when the guest displayed a kindly interest
in their history, they opened their hearts even to
speak of Callum, their light-hearted, bright Callum,
whose end had been so untimely. The schoolmaster
heard also the manner of his death; how it had
brought the great preacher, and how in the double
grave in the Glen by the river one of the Fighting
MacDonalds, at least, had buried all his feuds. And
they told him, too, of their only daughter, the beauti-
ful little Margaret, who had been Scotty's mother.
Monteith asked many questions concerning her, and
Scotty listened eagerly, but his new friend offered
no explanation of his interest.
216 THE SILVER MAPLE
When it was time to depart, Big Malcolm was for
insisting that he should spend the night with them;
but when he declared that he must return to the Glen,
or Mrs. Thompson would be worried, his hostess seized
the teapot again, and another supper was spread out,
of which the guest had perforce to partake before
leaving.
That finished, Big Malcolm reverently laid aside
his bonnet, and Scotty brought him the old yellow-
leaved Bible. The old man read the 103d Psalm in
a triumphant tone that showed he had passed all his
temptations and trials, and now in a serene old age
his soul blessed the Lord for His guidance.
And then they sang a Psalm, Old Farquhar coming
out from his corner to join them. They sang it in
English, in deference to the guest's lack of Gaelic,
and the brown rafters rang to the solemn old Scot-
tish tune in harmony with the beautiful words:
"Oh, taste and see that God is good:
Who trusts in Him is bless'd!"
And listening, the man of the world experienced a
vague sensation of something like regretful envy.
Had he not, in his broader life, missed some uplifting
joy, some great blessing in which these old people
rejoiced?
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 217
While Monteith was taking a lingering farewell
and promising a speedy return, Scotty went to a cor-
ner and lit the lantern, and in spite of the school-
master's protests, insisted upon accompanying him
for a mile to show him the short road across the
swamp.
The two walked side by side along the snowy
path, the lantern flashing fitfully amongst the bare
branches and dark boles of the trees. Monteith chat-
ted away pleasantly, but Scotty answered only in
monosyllables. He was employed in making desper-
ate efforts to bring about some allusion to the condi-
tion of the schoolhouse. But the new master seemed
to have totally forgotten school affairs, and when
they came to the end of the forest path and stood
upon the Glenoro road, saying good-night, this
strange man had not in the smallest way recurred to
the shameful subject. Scotty was in despair. " It
would be a fool's trick we were doing ! " he burst forth,
as Monteith held out his hand in farewell, " if we
could jist be having another day " He stopped
overcome.
The new master did not seem to need an explana-
tion of this apparently irrelevant speech. " Could
you fix it all up in one day ? " he inquired in a bus-
iness-like manner.
218 THE SILVER MAPLE
" Oh, yes ! " Scotty gasped eagerly, " easy."
" All right, we'll take to-morrow ; I'll come over
and help you. Good-night ! "
And he turned away, leaving his pupil standing in
the middle of the road amazed and humbled.
Number Nine learned during the following week
that for some inexplicable reason the MacDonalds,
whose hand had hitherto been against every other
man's hand, were on the side of the new master, and
that anyone who gave him trouble was courting dire
calamities at the hands of Big Malcolm's Scot. As
a direct result the fiat went forth that Dan Murphy,
and consequently all his generation, also approved of
the new rule. Subsequently the Tenth announced its
neutrality ; and from that time the new era, which had
arisen at the building of the church in the social
world of the Oro valley, dawned in the schoolhouse
too, and the land had rest from war.
To no one did the new dispensation bring greater
things than to Scotty. Ever since the days when all
knowledge and wisdom could be extracted, by per-
sistent questionings, from Hamish, he had experienced
an unslakable thirst for books. He had been much
more fortunate in finding reading material than his
uncle had been, for Captain Herbert's library was al-
ways at Scotty's disposal. Every summer and win-
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 219
ter Isabel came to Kirsty's laden with books, and
what feasts she and Scotty had reading under the
boughs of the Silver Maple or before Kirsty's fire!
Dickens, Scott, Thackeray, Macaulay they de-
voured them all; and once, by mistake, she had
brought some books by a wonderful man named Car-
lyle, which she declared were dreadfully stupid, but
which Scotty found strangely fascinating, though
somewhat beyond his understanding.
But Isabel had been away at school for more than
a year now, and though she wrote Scotty voluminous
letters, which he answered at shamefully long inter-
vals, and only when Kirsty's reproaches goaded him
to the effort, she had almost entirely passed out of
his life.
So when there had been no more books to read he
had turned his restless energies into less profitable
channels. But now, here were not only books of all
kinds, but a man ready and willing to interpret them.
Scotty heard no more of the sentence of expulsion,
and with the energy that characterised everything he
did, he plunged headlong into a course of study far
beyond any public school curriculum. Monteith was
first amazed, then delighted, and lastly found he had
to set himself severe tasks to keep sufficiently ahead
of his pupil.
220 THE SILVER MAPLE
And in return for his pains Scotty gave an al-
legiance to his master that had in it something of
homage. Not the gay, reckless Callum was his hero
now, but this quiet, self -controlled gentleman. Un-
consciously the boy copied him in every particular,
and unquestioningly adopted his opinions. Mon-
teith had seen the world, had lived in cities, and even
in that magic land, " the old country," and surely
he should be an authority. Scotty early learned that
the new master despised the tavern, not quite in the
way Store Thompson and the minister and his grand-
father did, as a force of evil, but in lofty scorn of
its lowness.
In consequence the boy was never found hang-
ing about its doors any more. And though the
teacher said nothing about his religious views, the
pupil soon learned and adopted them too. Monteith
treated all creeds with a good-natured tolerance. The
Bible, he declared, was a grand piece of literature,
and he liked to go to church because Mr. Cameron's
sermons gave him some intellectual stimulus. Re-
ligion he characterised chiefly as an emotion. A
man needed only common sense to show him how to
live, he declared. Scotty felt that this was the creed
for him; he had come under Monteith's control at a
period when he was in revolt against all earlier re-
IN THE REALMS OF GOLD
straint and rejoiced in the feeling of independence
which the new belief brought.
The two soon became fast friends in their common
pursuit of learning. When the second winter came,
and Scotty had become too old for school, he and
Monteith studied together in the long evenings, and
each month of companionship served to deepen their
friendship. But in spite of their intimacy the boy
never elicited any explanation of his friend's strange
behaviour when he first realised that Scotty 's name
was Stanwell. Monteith was always careful to call
him Ralph, but he f orebore from any allusion to the
subject; and as the days went happily on the matter
dropped from the boy's thoughts.
XI
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
Love came at dawn when all the world was fair,
When crimson glories, bloom and song were rife;
Love came at dawn when hope's wings fanned the air,
And murmured, "I am life."
Love came at even when the day was done,
When heart and brain were tired and slumber pressed;
Love came at eve, shut out the sinking sun,
And whispered, " I am rest."
WILLIAM WILFRED CAMPBELL.
AD just as Scotty entered manhood a won-
derful thing happened in the Highlands,
something that amazed the neighbours and
convinced them of the instability of all things, par-
ticularly of a woman's resolution, for Kirsty John
promised to marry the Weaver. All these weary
years, as faithful as the sun and as untiring, Jimmie
had been climbing the hills to the Oa to shed the
beams of his devotion unheeded at Kirstys doorstep;
but now the long period of Jacob-like service was
over, for he had at last won his Rachel.
Some declared that this was only a new method
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
Kirsty had found for tormenting her hapless lover,
and that after they were tied up she would lead him
a dog's life. But Long Lauchie's girls there were
still girls at Long Lauchie's, though a goodly number
of matrons looked back to the place as their old home
declared that Jimmie no longer dodged when Kirsty
passed him, and that he even entered her house with-
out knocking. And Big Malcolm's wife would shake
her head smilingly at all the dark predictions and de-
clare in her quiet, firm way that indeed they need
never fear for Jimmie.
And she was right ; the Weaver was not undertak-
ing any such hazardous enterprise as the neighbours
supposed. For a change had come over Kirsty the
winter she lost the frail little mother, and only Big
Malcolm's wife knew its depth. All Kirsty's bold
courage, all her fearless fight with poverty, had had
for its inspiration the poor sufferer on the bed in the
corner of the little shanty, and when the spring of
action was removed there went also the daughter's
dauntless spirit, and nowhere was the change so
strongly evinced as in this promise to marry the
Weaver.
Kirsty's grief had no bitterness in it. It had sof-
tened her greatly, for the little mother's death had
been as beautiful as her patient, pain-filled life. And
THE SILVER MAPLE
wonderful it seemed that, like that other woman who
had suffered so long before, just eighteen years of
pain had been completed when the Master called her
to Him and said in His infinite love, " Woman, thou
art loosed from thine infirmity."
" But you will surely not be leaving me," pleaded
Kirsty brokenly when her mother told her the end
could not be far off. " Ah 've nobody but you."
" Eh, ma lassie, ye'll be better wi'oot such a puir
auld buddie, jist a burden to ye a' these years."
" Oh, mother, mother, ye'll surely not be talkin*
that way to me," sobbed her daughter.
"Eh, eh, lass! There, there! It's naething but
the best Ah could say to ye, Kirsty." The weak old
hand was fumbling feebly for Kirsty's bowed head.
" For, eh, ye've jist been that guid to yer mither, the
Lord'll reward ye ; Ah've nae fear o' ye, Kirsty, He'll
reward ye." There was a long silence in the little
room. The fire flared up in the old chimney, the
clock's noisy pendulum went tap, tap, tap, loud and
clear in the stillness. "Read it tae me jist once
mair, Kirsty," she whispered. Kirsty arose and
fetched the old yellow-leaved Bible from the dresser.
She did not need to be told what she was to read.
" Aye," whispered the old woman with a gleam of
triumph in her eyes, " aye, He called her; an* it's jist
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 225
eighteen year. Aye, eighteen ! Eh, it's been a long
time, Kirsty," she continued as her daughter seated
herself at the bedside again, " eh, a weary time, an'
the pain's been that bad, whiles, Ah wished He would
tak' it awa, but Ah didna ask Him. No, no! She
didna ask Him, an' Ah jist waited like her, an' it's
eighteen year, and Ah think He'll be callin' me.
. . . Read it, Kirsty."
Kirsty opened the Book; her eyes were blinded
with tears, but she had so often read that passage
that she knew it by heart. She was faltering through
it when a timid step sounded, a crunch, crunch on the
snow outside the door, and a low tap, scarcely audible
above the noise of the clock, announced Weaver Jim-
mie. Old Collie, lying before the fire, so accustomed
to Jimmie's approach, merely uttered a gruff snort,
as though to apprise all that he was well aware that
someone had arrived, but did not consider the visitor
worthy of his notice. But as Kirsty opened the door
he thumped his tail upon the hearthstone.
For the first time in his life Weaver Jimmie real-
ised that Kirsty was glad to see him, and his heart
leaped. But he choked at the sight of her grief-
stricken face, and could only stand and look down
at his great " shoepacks " in the snow.
" Will ye bring Big Malcolm's Marget," whispered
THE SILVER MAPLE
Kirsty, " mother's " She stopped, unable to say
more, but more was unnecessary, for, eager to do her
bidding, Jimmie was already off across the white
clearing and was lost to view before she could shut
the door.
Kirsty went softly back to the bed.
" Was it Jimmie? " whispered her mother.
Yes."
" He's a kind chiel, Kirsty. Ye must marry puir
Jimmie, ma lassock, he's got a guid hert, an' he'll
mak' ye a kind man, an' Ah'll no be fearin' for ye."
She paused, and then came the whisper, " Read it."
So Kirsty read it to her for the last time, the sweet
old story that had comforted the poor, pain-racked
woman and upheld her in patience and fortitude for
eighteen weary years of suffering. And when at the
end of the story came those gracious words bearing
a world of love and divine compassion, " And Jesus
called her to Him and said unto her, Woman, thou
art loosed from thine infirmity," Kirsty paused. Her
mother always interrupted there, always broke in with
a word of triumph, a renewal of the firm faith that
for eighteen years had forbidden her to ask for relief.
But as she waited now there came no sound, and,
looking up, she saw that the Divine Healer had
loosed this other woman from her infirmity and
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
made her straight and beautiful in His kingdom of
happiness.
And so Kirsty, always kind and true-hearted, had
been made better and more womanly by her trial ; and
although she kept her faithful suitor waiting for a
couple of years more, she yielded at last and the
Weaver received his reward.
As if to be in keeping with the time of life at which
the bride and groom had arrived, the wedding day
was set in the autumn; the soft vaporous October
days when the Oro forests were all aflame.
Kirsty had refused to leave her little farm ; so Jim-
mie, well content, had a fine new frame house built
close to her old home ; and as soon as the wedding was
over he was to bring his loom from the Glen and they
would begin their new life together.
Kirsty declared that he might bring the loom any
day, for there was to be no nonsense at her wedding ;
they would drive to the minister's in the Glen by them-
selves, and she would be home in time to milk the cows
in the evening.
But when she saw the bitter disappointment a quiet
wedding would be to the prospective groom, she had
not the heart to insist. For years Jimmie had buoyed
up his sorely-tried courage by the ecstatic picture of
228 THE SILVER MAPLE
himself and Kir sty dancing on their wedding night, he
the envy of all the MacDonald boys, she the pattern
for all the girls ; and though neither he nor his bride
were any longer young, he still cherished his youth-
ful dream. And then Long Lauchie's girls came over
in a body and demanded a wedding and a fine big
dance, and even Big Malcolm's wife declared it would
hardly be right not to have some public recognition
of the fact that there was a wedding among the
MacDonalds.
And so, laughing at what she called their foolish-
ness, Kirsty yielded, and the girls came over and
sewed and scrubbed and baked, and Scotty and Peter
Lauchie gathered in the apples and turnips and pota-
toes and raked away all the dead leaves and made
everything neat and tidy for the great event.
And the day actually dawned, in spite of Weaver
Jimmie's anticipation that some dire catastrophe
would befall to prevent it. A radiant autumn day
it was, a Canadian autumn day, when all the best days
of the year seem combined to crown its close. The
dazzling skies belonged to June, the air was of balmi-
est May, and the earth was clothed in hues of the
richest August blooms. The forest was a blaze of
colour. The sumachs and the woodbine made flaming
patches on the hills and in the fence-corners. The
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 229
glossy oaks, with their polished bronze leaves, and the
pale, yellow elms softened the glow and blended with
the distant purple haze. But Canada's own maple
made all the rest of the forest look pale, where it lined
the road to the bride's house, in rainbows of colour,
rose and gold and passionate crimson.
Early in the afternoon high double buggies, wag-
gons, and buckboards began clattering up the lane
to Kirsty's dwelling. And such a crowd as they
brought ! In the exuberance of his joy Weaver Jim-
mie had bidden all and sundry between the two lakes.
And besides, everyone in the Oa went to a MacDonald
wedding, anyway. Invitations were always issued in
a rather haphazard fashion, and if one did not get a
direct call, it mattered little in this land of prodigal
hospitality, for one always bestowed a compliment
upon one's host by attending.
Long Lauchie's girls took the whole affair out of
Kirsty's hands and arranged everything to their
hearts' desire. The cooking and washing of dishes
was to be done in the old house, while the double cere-
mony of the marriage and the wedding dinner was to
be performed in the new establishment.
This place was gaily decorated with the aromatic
boughs of the cedar, dressed with scarlet berries and
crimson maple leaves. A table at one end held the
230 THE SILVER MAPLE
wedding presents. This was the work of the Lauchie
girls, too, for Kirsty felt it was nothing short of
ostentation to put up to the public gaze all the fine
quilts and blankets and hooked mats the neighbours
had given her towards the furnishing of the new home.
But the girls had their way in this as in all other ar-
rangements, and most conspicuous in the fine array
were a Bible from the minister and a set of fine gilt-
edged china dishes from Captain Herbert's family.
And amidst all this splendour sat the bride, sedate
and happy, arrayed in a bright blue poplin dress and
the regulation white cap.
Beside her sat Jimmie, his arm about her in proper
bridegroom fashion, but loosely, for Kirsty was not
to be trifled with, even on her wedding day. He sat
up, erect and stiff, strangling ecstatically in a flaring
white collar, and striving manfully to keep his broad
smiles from overflowing into loud laughter, for poor
Jimmie's belated j oy bordered on the hysterical. His
magnificent appearance almost eclipsed the bride. He
wore a coat of black, such as the minister himself
might have envied, a saffron waistcoat, and a pair of
black and white trousers of a startlingly large check.
His hair was oiled and combed up fiercely, his red
whiskers waged a doubtful warfare for first place
with the white collar, his big feet were doubly con-
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
spicuous in a pair of red-topped, high-heeled boots
which, unfortunately, met the trousers halfway and
swallowed up much of their glory. But as both could
not be exposed, Jimmie, evidently believing in the sur-
vival of the fittest, had allowed the boots the place of
honour.
Scotty drove his grandmother over to Kirsty's
early in the morning, for the bride said she must have
her mother's old friend with her all day; and when
he returned in company with Hamish, his grand-
father, and Old Farquhar, it was almost the hour set
for the ceremony.
The wedding guests had already gathered in large
numbers, many of them standing about the door or in
the garden matrons in gay plaid shawls, with here
and there a fantastic " Paisley " brought out, for
this festive occasion, from the seclusion of some deep
sea-chest; men, weather-beaten and stooped, in grey
flannel shirtsleeves, showing an occasional genteel
Sabbath coat from the Glen ; bright-eyed lasses, with
gay touches of finery to brighten their young beauty ;
youths in heavy boots and homespun clothing, gath-
ered in laughing groups as far from the house as
possible ; and everywhere babies of all sizes.
Scotty left a crowd of his friends at the barn and
went up to the house to look for Monteith. The
232 THE SILVER MAPLE
schoolmaster had spent the preceding Saturday and
Sunday with his friends at Lake Oro, but had prom-
ised Jimmie faithfully that he would not misg the
wedding. As the young man swung open the little
garden gate and came up the pathway between rows
of Kirsty's asters he caught sight of his friend stand-
ing in the doorway of the new house, and gave a gay
whistle. Monteith looked up quickly, but instead of
answering he turned to someone inside the house.
" Here he is at last," he called, " come and see if
you think he's grown any."
And the same instant a vision flashed Into the little
doorway, a vision that nearly took away Scotty's
breath a tall young lady in a blue velvet gown
with a sweet, laughing face and a crown of golden
hair overshadowed by a big plumed hat, a lady who
looked as if she had just stepped out of a book of
romance; a high-born princess, very remote and un-
approachable, and yet, somehow, strangely, enchant-
ingly familiar.
The vision apparently did not want to be remote,
for it came down the steps in a little, headlong rush,
casting a pair of gloves to one side and a cape to the
other, and caught hold of both Scotty's hands.
" Scotty! Oh, oh, Scotty, dear! " it cried ; and
then it was no longer an unapproachable heroine from
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 233
a story-book, but just Isabel; Isabel, his old chum,
and something more, something strangely wonder-
fully new.
Scotty did not return her welcome with the warmth
he would have shown a few years earlier. He stood
gazing down at her as if in a dream, and then the
red came up under the dark tan of his cheek and
overspread his face. He dropped her hands and
looked around hastily, as if he wanted to escape. But
Isabel dragged him up the garden path in her old
way, deluging him with questions for which she never
waited an answer. She had seen Granny Malcolm
and Betty and Peter, and she had been afraid he
wasn't coming. And, oh, wasn't it an awfully long
time since she had seen any of them? And didn't he
think he was very unkind not to have answered her
last two letters? And she had been away at school
all this endless time, not home to the Grange even in
the summer ! And, oh, how glad she was to get back !
And how he had grown ! Why, he was a giant ! And
had he missed her? She had missed him just awfully,
for Harold was away all the time now. And wasn't
it just too perfectly lovely for anything that Kirsty
and Jimmie were getting married, and that he and
she were together at the wedding?
Scotty stood and listened to these ecstatic outpour-
THE SILVER MAPLE
ings, his head swimming. He was enveloped in a
rose-coloured mist, a mist in which blue velvet and
golden hair and dancing eyes surrounded and daz-
zled him. One moment he was a child again, and
his little playmate had come back, and the next he
was a man and Isabel was the lady of romance. And
while he stood in this delightful daze someone came
and took the vision away ; he thought it was Mary
Lauchie, but was not sure. When she had disap-
peared into the new house he awoke sufficiently to
notice that Monteith was standing at the door regard-
ing him with twinkling eyes, and for the second time
that afternoon he blushed.
The crowd was beginning to gravitate towards the
new house, and Scotty soon found an excuse to enter
also. It hadn't been a dream after all, for she was
there, sitting close by Kirsty, holding her hand, and
surrounded by the people who made up the more gen-
teel portion of society in the Oa and the Glen. A
little space seemed to divide them from the common
crowd, and she sat, the recognised centre of the
group. Scotty noticed, too, that even Mrs. Cameron,
the minister's wife, treated the young lady with bland
deference, quite unlike her manner of kind condescen-
sion towards the MacDonald girls. As he watched
the graceful gestures and easy well-bred air of his
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 235
late comrade, Scotty was suddenly smitten with a
sense of his own shortcomings; he was rough, un-
couth, awkward. Isabel belonged to a different
sphere : she was far removed from him and his people.
It was the first time he had realised the difference,
and he felt it just at the moment that it first had
power to hurt him. He experienced a sudden return
of the old wild ambition that used to shake him in
his childhood when Rory played a warlike air. And
then he wanted to slip out and go away from the wed-
ding feast and never see Isabel again. He glanced at
her again, and felt resentfully that she must surely
be guilty of the sin of " pride," which so character-
ised the class to which she belonged.
But he had soon to change his mind. The blue
eyes had been glancing eagerly about the room, and
as soon as they spied him their owner arose and came
crushing through the throng towards him. For
though Scotty was distrustful, Isabel's frank sim-
plicity of nature had not changed in her years of
absence. Her happiest days had been spent in the
Oa, and her return to her old home with its sense of
welcome and freedom meant more to the lonely girl
than he could realise. Practically she had been
brought up among the MacDonalds, and at heart she
was one of them.
236 THE SILVER MAPLE
Scotty saw her approach in combined joy and
embarrassment, and just as he was trying to efface
himself in a corner he found her at his side. She
wanted to talk about the good old times, she whis-
pered, as she pulled him down beside her on the low
window sill. " They were just the loveliest old times,
weren't they, Scotty? And don't you hate to be
grown up ? " she asked.
Hate it? Scotty gloried in it. It was a new
birth. He tried to say so, but Isabel shook her head
emphatically.
" Well, I don't, and you wouldn't in my place,
for I can't run in the bush any more. Aunt
Eleanor bewails me; she says I've been spoiled by
Kirsty, for I can't settle down to a proper life in
the city. The backwoods is the best place, isn't it,
Scotty?"
He drew a long breath. " Do you mean you'd
really like to come here and live with with Kirsty
again ? " he asked.
" Oh, wouldn't I? " she cried, her eyes sparkling so
that Scotty had to look away. " It was never dull
here. Don't you wish I'd come back, too ? "
Scotty felt his head reeling. " I don't know,"
he faltered ungallantly.
" You don't know ? " she echoed indignantly.
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 237
" Scotty MacDonald, how can you say such a mean
thing? "
Scotty looked up with a sudden desperate boldness.
" Because I wouldn't be doing any work if you
were here," he exclaimed with a recklessness that ap-
palled even himself.
Isabel laughed delightedly. " That's lovely," she
cried. " Do you know, I was beginning to be afraid,
almost, that you weren't just very glad to see me, and
and you always used to be. You are glad I came,
aren't you, Scotty ? "
Like a timid swimmer, who, having once plunged
in, discovers his own strength and gains courage,
Scotty struck out boldly into the conversational sea.
" It was the best thing that ever happened in all
my life," he answered deliberately.
She was prevented from receiving this important
declaration with the consideration it deserved by a
sudden silence falling over the room. The minister
was standing up in the centre of the room, clearing
his throat and looking around portentously. The
ceremony was about to commence, and all conversa-
tion was instantly hushed. Mothers quieted their
babies, and the men came clumsily tiptoeing indoors.
Whenever possible the more ceremonious precincts of
the house were left to the more adaptable sex, the
238 THE SILVER MAPLE
masculine portion of such assemblies always retiring
to the greater freedom of the barn and outbuildings.
Now they came crowding in, however, obviously em-
barrassed, but when the minister stood up, book in
hand, and a hush fell over the room, the affair took
on a religious aspect and everyone felt more at home.
Mr. Cameron moved to a little open space in the
centre of the room, and bade Kirsty and Weaver Jim-
mie stand before him. Mary Lauchie, pale and
drooping as she always was now, stood at Kirsty's
side, and Jimmie had the much needed support of
Koarin' Sandy's Archie, now the most fashionable
young man in the Oa, who was resplendent in aromatic
hair oil and a flaming tie. Jimmie was white and
trembling, but Kirsty was calm. Only once did she
show any emotion, when she had to search for her
neatly-folded handkerchief in the pocket of her ample
skirt to wipe away a tear a tear that, all the sym-
pathetic onlookers knew, was for the little mother
who had said so confidently she had no fears for
Kirsty's future.
At last the minister pronounced them one, and
the friends gathered about them with their congrat-
ulations, and, to the delight of all, what should Miss
Herbert do, after hugging the bride, but fling her
arms about the bridegroom's neck also and give him
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
a sounding kiss! If anything could have added to
Jimmie's pride and joy at that moment, this treat-
ment by Kirsty's little girl would certainly have
done so.
And then came the wedding supper, the tables set
out with the precious new china dishes and weighed
down and piled up with everything good the Mac-
Donald matrons knew how to cook. The bride and
groom sat close together at the head of the long
table, Jimmie's affectionate demonstrations partially
hidden by the huge wedding cake. The minister sat
at the foot, and after a long and fervent grace had
been said everyone drew a deep breath and proceeded
to enjoy himself.
There was a deal of clatter and noise and laughter
and running to and fro of waiters. In the old house
where the work was going on, and where there was
no minister to put a damper on the proceedings,
there were high times indeed; for Dan Murphy was
there, and wherever Dan was there was sure to be an
uproar. Scotty was responsible for the young man's
presence ; he had invited Mr. Murphy on the strength
of his own relationship to both contracting parties,
knowing a warm welcome was assured. So, with an
apron tied round his waist, Dan was making a fine
pretence of helping Betty Lauchie wash dishes, his
240 THE SILVER MAPLE
chief efforts, however, being directed towards balanc-
ing pots of boiling water in impossible positions,
twirling precious plates in the air, and other outland-
ish feats that added a great deal to the enjoyment,
but very little to the competence, of the assembled
cooks.
Scotty joined the army of workers in the shanty,
but he had left the blue vision seated at the table be-
tween his grandparents, and his culinary efforts were
not much more successful than Dan's. His chum
tried to rally him on his absent looks, and made a
sly allusion to the effusive greeting of the young
lady from Lake Oro. But Scotty met his well-meant
raillery with such unwonted ferocity that he very
promptly subsided.
In the new house, where the elder guests were gath-
ered about the table, affairs were much more cere-
monious, for all the genteel folk the neighbourhood
could boast were there, and Jimmie's face shone with
pride as he glanced down the splendid array.
The bridegroom's j oy seemed to permeate the whole
feast. There was much talk and laughter, and,
among the elder women, a wonderful clatter of
Gaelic. For only on such rare occasions as this had
they a chance to meet, and there were many lengthy
recountings of sicknesses, deaths, and burials.
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
Long Lauchie, as usual, was full of vague and
ominous prophecies. His remarks were chiefly con-
cerning the wedding feast to which those who were
bidden refused to come, with dark reference to the
man who had not on the wedding garment; neither
of which allusions, surely, pointed to either Weaver
Jimmie or his marriage festivities. Near him, in a
little circle where English was spoken, Praying Don-
ald and the minister were leading a discussion on the
evidences of Christianity. There was only one quar-
ter in which there were signs of anything but perfect
amity, and that was where a heated argument had
arisen between Old Farquhar and Peter Sandy John-
stone upon the respective merits of Ossian and Burns ;
a discussion which, in spite of the age of the dis-
putants, would certainty have ended in blows, had it
been in the old days when a marriage was scarcely
considered binding without a liberal supply of
whiskey.
But Kirsty's wedding, happily, belonged to the
new era, and the minister, glancing round the well
conducted assemblage and recalling the days, not so
far past, when most of the Highlanders enlivened any
and every social function, from a barn-raising to a
burial, with spirits, heaved a great sigh of gratitude.
And Store Thompson unconsciously voiced his senti-
THE SILVER MAPLE
ments when he declared, in a neatly turned little
speech, that the occasion was " jist an auspicious con-
summation-like."
There were several other speakers besides the min-
ister and Store Thompson, and each made the kindliest
allusions to both bride and groom ; but, like the true
Scots they were, carefully refrained from paying
compliments. There were songs and stories, too,
stirring Scottish choruses, and tales of the early days
and of the great doings in the homeland. Then Big
Malcolm's Farquhar, who had long ago come to re-
gard himself in the light of the old itinerant bards,
sang, like Chibiabos, to make the wedding guests more
contented. He had but a single English song in his
repertoire, one which he rendered with much pride,
and only on state occasions. This was a flowery
love-lyric, entitled " The Grave of Highland Mary,"
and was Farquhar's one tribute to the despised Burns.
It consisted of a half-dozen lengthy stanzas, each
followed by a still lengthier refrain, and was sung to
an ancient and erratic air that rose and fell like the
wail of the winter winds in the bare treetops. The
venerable minstrel sang with much fervour, and only
in the last stanza did the swelling notes subside in
any noticeable degree. This was not because the
melancholy words demanded, but because the singer
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
was rather out of breath. So he sang with some
breathless hesitation:
"Yet the green simmer saw but a few sunny mornings
Till she, in the bloom of her beauty and pride,
Was laid in her grave like a bonnie young flower
In Greenock kirkyard on the banks of the Clyde."
But, when he found himself launched once more
upon the familiar refrain, he rallied his powers and
sang out loudly and joyfully:
" Then bring me the lilies and bring me the roses,
And bring me the daisies that grow in the dale,
And bring me the dew of the mild summer evening,
And bring me the breath of the sweet-scented gale;
And bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom,
And bring me the tear of a fond lover's e'e,
And I'll pour them a' doon on thy grave, Highland Mary 5
For the sake o' thy Burns who sae dearly loved thee ! "
It did not seem the kind of song exactly suited to
a hymeneal feast, but everyone listened respectfully
until the old man had wavered through to the end
and called, for the last time, for the lilies, the roses
and the daisies ; and before he had time to start an-
other Fiddlin' Archie struck up " Scots Wha Hae,"
and the whole company joined.
When everyone, even to the last waiter in the old
244 THE SILVER MAPLE
shanty, had been fed and the tables were all cleared
away, Scotty deserted Monteith, and once more took
up his station on the window sill where he could catch
glimpses of Isabel's golden head through the crowd.
He could see she was the object of many admiring
glances ; the MacDonald girls stood apart whispering
wondering remarks concerning the beauty of her vel-
vet gown, and even Betty Lauchie seemed shy of her
old playmate. Nevertheless, when, upon spying him
in his corner, Isabel came again and seated herself
beside him, Scotty forgot all differences between them
and blossomed out into friendliness under the light of
her eyes. For she had clear, honest eyes that looked
beneath the rough exterior of her country friends
and recognised the true, leal hearts beneath. Yes,
she was the same old Isabel, Scotty declared to him-
self, and something more, something he hardly dared
think of yet.
He sat and chatted freely with her of all that had
happened since they had last met, her life in a la-
dies' boarding school and his progress under Mon-
teith's instruction, and he found that with all her
schooling he was far ahead of her in book knowledge.
Then there were past experiences to recall ; the play-
house they had built beneath the Silver Maple, the
mud pies they had made down by the edge of the
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 245
swamp, the excursions down the Birch Creek, and the
part they had played in poor Callum's sad romance.
"And what are you going to be, Scotty?" she
asked. " Don't you remember it was always either
an Indian or a soldier, a ' Black Watcher ' you used
to call it? You ought to go to college, you must be
more than prepared for it since you've learned so
much from Mr. Monteith."
Scotty's eyes glowed. A college course was the
dream of his life, sleeping or waking. But he shook
his head.
" I'd like it," he said, trying to keep the gloom out
of his voice, " but there's not much chance."
" Oh, dear," sighed the girl, " things seem to be
all wrong in this world. There's Harold now ; Uncle
Walter fairly begged him to go to college, but he
went only one year."
" Where is your cousin now ? "
" He's in the English navy, and poor Uncle frets
for him. He's an officer too. I can't imagine Hal
making anybody mind him. I always used to be the
' party in power,* as Uncle Walter used to say when
Hal was home."
Scotty laughed. " I expect he'd have a hard time
if he didn't let you have your own way," he said
slyly.
246 THE SILVER MAPLE
" Now, Scotty, you know you didn't let me have
my own way, now, did you? But somehow, I think
I was always in a better humour at Kirsty's here, I
didn't have anyone to bother me."
" I know what I'd like most to be," said Scotty,
with a sudden burst of feeling.
"What?"
"A Prince!"
" A Prince ! Why, in all the world? "
" Because you are just like all the Princesses I
have ever read about." Scotty was making headlong
progress in a subject to which he had never been
even introduced by Monteith.
The girl looked up at him with an expression of
half -amused wonder in her eyes.
"Why, Scotty," she declared, "you're as bad
as any society man for paying compliments. But
you will be something great some day, I know. Mr.
Monteith says so."
Scotty's face lit up. " If I'm ever worth anything
I'll owe it all to him," he exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Isn't he fine?"
" He's just a dear. If it hadn't been for his help
I should never have been able to come for this visit.
But he told Aunt Eleanor that we would elope if I
wasn't allowed to come. Isn't he funny? And just
THE WEAVER'S REWARD
think, Scotty, I'm going to stay a whole month, per-
haps two ! "
Scotty was speechless.
" Now, I'm sure you're glad ! Yes, I'm to stay
at the manse for about two weeks, until poor Jimmie
and Kirsty have a little honeymoon by themselves,
and then I'm coming here. Auntie and Uncle have
been invited to spend a month with friends in To-
ronto, and I didn't want to go because " she hesi-
tated and then laughed softly " well, because I
have to be so horribly proper all the time, so I begged
to come here instead, and as Mrs. Cameron had in-
vited me and Mr. Monteith coaxed too, Uncle Walter
consented. And there's a possibility they might not
be back till Christmas. Oh, I wish they wouldn't!
Am I not wicked? "
" I've got a colt of my own," Scotty burst forth
with apparent irrelevance, " he's a fine driver."
Isabel seemed to understand.
" I hope Mrs. Cameron will let me go," she said,
though there had been no invitation. She glanced
around the room and found that lady making rather
anxious motions in her direction.
The minister's wife had been taking note of the
fact that Miss Herbert and one of the young Mac-
Donald men had been renewing their acquaintance
248 THE SILVER MAPLE
in a rather headlong fashion. Mrs. Cameron was a
lady who had an eye for the fitness of things, and,
being responsible for young Miss Herbert, she decided
it was high time to take her home. So, when the
girl looked up her hostess beckoned her, and an-
nounced rather sedately that they must be going, as
the minister had already begun his round of hand-
shaking.
" And when will I see you again? " Scotty asked
forlornly, as the girl came downstairs dressed for
her drive.
Isabel was intent on buttoning her glove. "I
I suppose you sometimes come to the Glen? " she
suggested, without looking up.
Scotty hastened to asseverate that he spent almost
all his waking hours there, and that he was a daily
visitor at the Manse ; and before Mrs. Cameron could
get through bidding the neighbours good-bye, he had
secured permission to come with his black colt the
next day, and with Mrs. Cameron's consent they
would drive up to the Oa to see how the Silver Maple
looked in its autumn dress.
No sooner had the minister and the elder guests
turned their backs, than the young folk who remained
made a joyous rush for the furniture. Chairs and
benches were piled helter-skelter in the corners and
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 249
a unanimous demand arose for Fiddlin' Archie's
Sandy to bestir his lazy bones and tune up !
Thus importuned, the musician, who had fearfully
concealed his unholy instrument from the minister's
eyes all afternoon, mounted upon a table, and after
much screwing up and letting down and strumming
of notes, now high and squeaky, now low and buzz-
ing, banged his bow down upon all the strings at
once, and in stentorian tones gave forth the electrify-
ing command : " Take yer partners ! "
This was the signal for a general stampede, not
out upon the floor, but back to the walls, leaving
a clear space down the middle of the room; for
dancing before company was a serious business not
to be entered upon lightly, and it required no small
courage to be the first to step out into the range of
the public eye.
Balls were generally opened by a couple of agile
young men dashing madly into the middle of the
floor to execute a clattering step dance opposite each
other-, and under cover of this sortie the whole army
would sweep simultaneously into the field.
Dan Murphy and Roarin' Sandy's Archie were the
two who this night first ventured into the jaws of
public opinion. Jimmie's best man, as became the
dandy of the countryside, could disport himself with
250 THE SILVER MAPLE
marvellous skill on the terpsichorean floor, and Dan
Murphy was at least warranted to make plenty of
noise. The two young men flung aside their coats
and went at their task, heel and toe, with a right good
will and a tremendous clatter. They pranced before
each other, stepping high, like thoroughbred horses,
they slapped the floor with first one foot, then the
other, they reeled, they twirled, they shuffled and
double-shuffled, and pounded the floor, as though
they would fain tramp their way through to Kirs-
ty's new cellar; while, in his efforts to keep pace
with them, the fiddler nearly sawed his instrument
asunder.
But just when they were in the midst of the most
intricate part of the gyrations, the spirit of the
dance seized the spectators, and the next moment
the performers were engulfed in the whirl of the
oncoming flood.
But Roarin' Sandy's Archie was not the sort to
lose his identity in the vulgar throng. He was the
most famous " caller-off " in the township of Oro,
as everyone knew; and staggering out of the mael-
strom, he seized Betty Lauchie and was soon in the
midst of his double task, his face set and tense, for
it was no easy matter to manage one's own feet and
at the same time guide the reckless movements of some
THE WEAVER'S REWARD 251
twenty heedless and bouncing couples who acted as
though a dance was an affair of no moment whatever.
Scotty did not remain for the dance, but accom-
panied his uncle home. He wanted to be alone to
think over the wonderful events of the day and of the
joys of the morrow. There were not many youths
who followed his example. When the dance broke up
the majority of them merely retired to the edge of
the clearing to return half an hour later armed with
guns, horns, tin pans, old saws from the mill, and
all other implements warranted to produce an uproar
and annihilate peace. With these they proceeded
to make the night hideous by serenading the bridal
pair until the late autumn dawn chased them to the
cover of the woods. This last festivity gave no of-
fence, however, being quite in accordance with the
custom of the country and the expectations of the
bride and groom.
And so Weaver Jimmie's wedding passed off just
as, through the long years of waiting, he had
dreamed it would; and one young man, who had
been a guest at their marriage feast, entered that
day upon a new life, as surely as did the bride and
groom.
XII
A WELL-MEANT PLOT
O, Love will build his lily walls,
And Love his pearly roof will rear,-
On cloud or land, or mist or sea
Love's solid land is everywhere!
ISABELLE VALANCY CRAWFORD.
THE minister and his wife had been on a
pastoral visitation to the Oa, and, having
had an early tea at Long Lauchie's, were
driving homeward.
The first snow had fallen a few days before and
had been succeeded by rain, which, freezing as it
fell, formed a hard, glassy " crust " on the top of
the snow. This glimmering surface reflected the
radiant evening skies like a polished mirror. The
surrounding fields were a sea of glass mingled with
fire, and the whole earth had become an exact copy
of heaven. Away ahead stretched the road like
two polished, golden bars that gradually melted into
the violet and mauve tints of the dusky pines.
Through the frequent openings in the purple forest
they could see, far over hill and valley, a marvellous
252
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 253
vista, all enveloped in the wondrous glow, the patches
of woodland looking like fairy islands floating in a
sea of gold. Overhead, the delicately green heavens
shone through the marvellous tracery of the bare
branches. The horse's bells echoed far into the
woods, the only sound in the winter stillness, for
the whole world seemed silent and wondering before
the beauty of the dying day.
The two travellers had not spoken for some time;
the minister was lost in contemplation of the glori-
ous night, and the minister's wife, alas, was absorbed
in a subject that had been worrying her for more
than a month, the subject of Miss Isabel Herbert.
Before her visit at the manse had terminated, Mrs.
Cameron had come to consider her invitation to that
young lady as the great mistake of her hitherto
well-ordered life. For no sooner had the guest been
settled than that young MacDonald, who was such a
friend of Mr. Monteith, began to appear with alarm-
ing frequency. Now, though there might have been
no harm in Captain Herbert's niece playing in the
backwoods with Big Malcolm's grandson when they
were children, Mrs. Cameron mentally declared that,
now they were grown up, such a thing as intimacy
between them was absolutely out of the question.
Miss Herbert, she well knew, would be horrified at
254 THE SILVER MAPLE
the thought, and she set herself sternly to discourage
the young man's attentions.
But she found this no easy task. One of her
greatest obstacles was the minister himself. The
good man had long yearned to bring Monteith and
his friend into the church and now hailed Scotty's
visits as special opportunities sent him by Provi-
dence. To his wife's dismay he warmly welcomed
the young man, pressed him to come again speedily,
and was, in his innocent goodness of heart, as much
a trial to his wife as Isabel herself.
And Isabel certainly was a handful. In Cap-
tain Herbert's niece one surely might have looked for
a model, but the young lady did not conduct herself
with the exact propriety her hostess expected. Mrs.
Cameron was quietly proud of the fact that she
had been very well brought up herself and knew
what was due one's station in life. But Miss Isabel
was an anomaly. She belonged to one of the best
families in the County of Simcoe and had been edu-
cated in a select school for young ladies; but, in
spite of these advantages, she would much rather tear
around the house with the dog, her hair flying in
the wind, than sit in the parlour with her crochet-
ing, as a young lady should. Moreover, if she could
be persuaded to settle for a moment with a piece of
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 255
sewing, at the sound of a horse's hoofs at the gate,
or the whirl of a buggy up the driveway, she would
jump from her seat, scattering spools, scissors and
thimble in every direction and go dancing out to the
door, joyfully announcing to everyone within the
house that here was " dear old Scotty ! "
And yet, she was so charmingly deferential, and,
in spite of her high spirits, so anxious to please,
that her hostess had not the heart to chide her. Her
whole-hearted innocence had begun to disarm the
lady's suspicions when, at the end of a week, the
watchful eye noted signs of an alarming change in
her troublesome charge. Isabel ceased entirely to
mention Scotty's name. She did not talk, either, as
had been her wont, of the delightful times they had
had together in their childhood. Neither did she
run to meet him any more when he came, but would
sit demurely at her sewing until he entered, or even
fly upstairs when his horse appeared at the gate.
These were the worst possible symptoms, and Mrs.
Cameron appealed to the minister. But he, good
man, was not at all perturbed. He saw nothing to
worry about, he declared. Probably the young lady
had discovered that she did not care for her old
comrade as much as when they were children and
was taking this tactful way of showing him the fact.
256 THE SILVER MAPLE
Mrs. Cameron was in a state of mingled indignation
and despair over such masculine obtuseness, and
vowed that if young MacDonald were not politely
requested to discontinue his attentions to Captain
Herbert's niece, she would feel it her duty to send
the aforesaid niece home.
But the minister would consider neither project.
When he had a man's soul in view everything else
must be made subordinate. The young man was
showing signs of an awakening conscience, he af-
firmed; he had displayed wonderful interest in the
sermons lately and had asked some very hopeful
questions during their last conversation. And be-
side all this the young lady was having a good in-
fluence on him, for the lad had missed neither church
nor prayer meeting since she came. Indeed, she
was a fine lassie, and wonderfully clear on the
essentials; though, of course, she had a few un-
sound Anglican doctrines. But Kirsty John's mother
had trained her well in her childhood and she was
not far astray. No, it would be interfering with the
inscrutable ways of Providence to separate these
two now, they must just let them be.
So Scotty and Isabel had things all their own way ;
and, when, at last, Weaver Jimmie and his wife came
and carried the young lady off to the Oa, her late
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 257
hostess declared she washed her hands of the whole
affair.
But her guest's departure did not bring her entire
relief from responsibility. She could not get away
from the suspicion that Miss Herbert would blame
her, and the rumours that came from the Oa were
not calculated to allay her fears. Kirsty John's
little lady from the Grange and Big Malcolm's Scot
were always together, the gossips said, and indeed it
was a great wonder the black colt wasn't driven to
death.
So to-night Mrs. Cameron was too much worried
to notice the beauty of the landscape. Nearly a
month had slipped past since Isabel had left her;
the Herberts had returned to the Grange, and still
the young lady showed no signs of departing. The
minister's wife looked out sharply as they approached
Weaver Jimmie's place. If she could catch sight
of her late guest she would delicately hint that pro-
priety demanded that she go home.
As they entered a little evergreen wood that bor-
dered Weaver Jimmie's farm, there arose the sound
of singing from the road ahead.
A turn around a oedar clump brought into view
a solitary figure a few yards before them the fig-
ure of a little old man, wearing a Scotch bonnet
258 THE SILVER MAPLE
and wrapped in a gay tartan plaid. It was a bent,
homely figure, but one containing a soul apparently
lifted far above earthly things, for he was pouring
forth a psalm, expressive of his joy in the glory of
the evening, and with an ecstasy that might have be-
fitted Orpheus greeting the dawn.
His voice was high, loud, and cracked; but the
words he had chosen showed that Old Farquhar dis-
cerned the divine in nature, a revelation that comes
only to the true artist:
"Ye gates, lift up your heads on high;
"Ye doors that last for aye,
Be lifted up that so the King
Of Glory enter may.
But who is He that is the King
Of Glory? Who is this?
The Lord of Hosts, and none but He
The King of Glory is!"
The minister smiled tenderly, there was a mist
before his eyes when he paused to shake the old man's
withered hand.
" Yes, it is a wonderful night, Farquhar," he said.
" Truly the heavens declare the glory of God and
the firmament showeth His handiwork."
The old man smiled ecstatically, and after a halt-
ing greeting in English to the minister's wife*
dropped into Gaelic, Mrs. Cameron did not under*
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 259
stand the language of her husband's people, and
while the two men conversed she looked about her.
Kirsty's house was just beyond the grove, Isabel
might be near. A narrow, dim pathway led from the
road across the woods to the house, an alluring path-
way bordered thickly with firs, and now all in purple
shadows, except when occasionally the golden light
sifted through the velvety branches and touched the
snow. Something was moving away down the shad-
owy aisle. She looked sharply, it moved out into a
lighter space and resolved itself into two figures
going slowly, so very slowly, down the path in the
direction of the Weaver's house. There was no mis-
taking Isabel's long, grey coat, or young MacDon-
ald's stalwart figure. They paused at the bars that
led into the yard, they were evidently saying good-
night. . . .
Mrs. Cameron did not wait even to take off her
bonnet, upon her return home, before sitting down
to write Miss Herbert, of the Grange, a letter* a let-
ter which evidently alarmed the recipient, for before
many days Miss Isabel packed her trunk with a very
sober face and took her leave.
It was partly this sudden manner of her departure
that made Monteith resolve to visit his friends at
J-ake Oro. He wanted to see Captain Herbert on
260 THE SILVER MAPLE
important business business which, he felt, had been
too long delayed, and besides he was anxious to
discover, if possible, what the people of the Grange
had done to offend Ralph on the day he had taken
Isabel home.
That he had been mortally offended by someone
Monteith could not help seeing; but whether by
Isabel herself, or another, Scotty's reticence pre-
vented his discovering.
" I'm going up to the Captain's to-morrow," he
remarked casually, as he sat and smoked by Big
Malcolm's fire one evening. He glanced at Scotty,
and that young man arose and began to cram the
red-hot stove with wood, until his grandfather
shouted to him that he must be gone daft, for was
he wanting to roast them all out?
" Oh, indeed," said Mrs. MacDonald, suspending
her knitting with a look of pleased interest. " And
you will be seeing the little lady. Eh, it is herself
will be the fine girl, not a bit o' pride, with all her
beautiful manners and her learning, indeed."
" She will be jist the same as when she used to
run round this house in her bare feet with Scotty,"
declared Big Malcolm enthusiastically. " It is a
great peety indeed that she will belong to that Eng-
lish upstart!"
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 261
Scotty had settled down in deep absorption to
whittle a stick and was apparently taking no notice
of the conversation.
Monteith regarded Big Malcolm curiously. He
had been long enough in the settlement to understand
that the ordinary pioneer had no love for the more
privileged class that had settled along the water-
fronts. Socially the latter belonged to a different
sphere from the farmers ; and having often been able,
in the early days, to secure from the Government con-
cessions not granted to all, they were regarded by the
common folk with some resentment. But the differ-
ence between the two classes, like all other differences,
was fast dying out, and the schoolmaster well knew
that Big Malcolm had other and deeper reasons for
his dislike of a man so popular as Captain Herbert.
He longed to know, before he visited the Grange, just
how much his friend had sinned against the old man.
" Oh, I suppose he's no worse than many of his
kind," he said tentatively.
" Aye, but that is jist where you will be mistaken,"
said Big Malcolm, a dangerous light beginning to
leap up in his eye. " If this place would be know-
ing the kind of a man he is, indeed it would not be
Parliament he would be thinking about next fall,
but " He stopped suddenly. " Och, hoch, the
862 THE SILVER MAPLE
Lord forgive me, and he will be your friend, too, Mr.
Monteith," he added hastily, with a return of his
natural courtesy. " Indeed I would be forgetting
myself."
" Why does your grandfather hate the Captain
so?" inquired Monteith, as Scotty walked with him
to the gate.
" I'll not know," said Scotty morosely. ** I think
they had some quarrel long ago, about land or some-
thing, when they came here first."
" And did he never give any hint of what the
trouble was ? "
" Not to us boys. It was one of those things he
would always be fighting against, and Granny kept
him back, too. He would be often going to speak of
the Captain, when she would stop him." Scotty's
tone was gloomy. This last surviving feud of his
warlike grandfather weighed heavily upon his soul.
For, indeed, matters had gone sadly wrong in Scot-
ty's world lately, and life was proving a very hard
and sordid business.
Monteith said no more, but the next morning he
set off for his friend's house, determined to settle
once for all those questions which had been troubling
him ever since he had learned that young Ralph
Stanwell lived. Something must be done with Ralph,
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 263
and that right away. He had taught him as far as
he could, and the boy must not be allowed to waste
his talents in the backwoods.
The Grange, Captain Herbert's residence on the
shore of Lake Oro, was a different building from the
homes of the people among whom the schoolmaster
lived; for its owner belonged to the fortunate class
for whom life during the early settlement of the
country had been made easy by money and political
influence.
The house, a long, low, white stone building with
plenty of broad verandahs, stood close to the water's
edge, sheltered by a stately oak grove. It was sur-
rounded by wide lawns and a garden, all now covered
with their winter blanket.
As Monteith went up the broad, well-shovelled
path, a crowd of dogs of all sizes came tearing round
the house from the rear with a tumult of barking.
He stooped to fondle a little terrier, and when he
looked up the master of the house was coming down
the steps with outstretched hands.
" By Jove, Archie ! " he cried, his face shining with
pleasure, " I'd almost come to the conclusion that the
Fighting MacDonalds had eaten you alive! Why,
we haven't seen you since October, and I've been blue-
moulding for somebody to talk to. Well, I am glad
264 THE SILVER MAPLE
to see you. Get down, you confounded brute! Come
in. Come in. Why, you certainly are a stranger.
And just at the right moment, too! I'm all alone.
Brian drove Eleanor and Belle to Barbay this morn-
ing. Get out, you infernal curs! Those dogs all
ought to be shot ! "
And so, talking loud and fast, as was his manner,
the hearty Captain led the way into the house. A
small room at the left of the hall, with two windows
looking out upon the ice-bound lake, constituted the
Captain's private den. A bright wood fire blazed
in the open grate. The host drew up a couple of
arm-chairs before it.
" So you've decided to immure yourself in the back-
woods for another year, I hear," he said, when his
guest was comfortably seated and supplied with a
cigar. " Come, Archie, this will never do. Two
years was the limit you set when you took the school,
and there's no more the matter with you than there is
with me. You're actually getting fat, man ! "
"Why, I do believe I am," said the other apolo-
getically. " I shall probably grow corpulent and
lazy, and settle down in Glenoro to a peaceful old
age."
" Not a bit of you ! You look like a new
and you ought to get back to your law books."
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 265
Monteith drew his hand over his grey hair with a
meaning smile. " It seems rather foolish at my age,
but I believe I shall; the Oro air has really made a
new man of me, as you say. I believe I should have
gone long ago if I hadn't been interested in a certain
young person there."
" A young person ! Thunder and lightning,
Archie, don't tell me you've gone and fallen in
love!"
Monteith laughed. " Upon my word I believe I
have," he asserted, " but don't look so aghast, the
object of my devotion is six feet high, and is cultivat-
ing a moustache."
" Oh, that young MacDonald chum of yours. You
gave me quite a shock." The guest noticed that his
friend's face changed at the mention of Scotty;
there was a moment's rather awkward silence.
" So the ladies are away," said Monteith at last.
" I am unfortunate."
Captain Herbert burst into a hearty laugh.
" Why, bless my soul, you've had the escape of your
life! Eleanor has it in for you, for shifting your
responsibility and sending little Bluebell home with
your young MacDonald; an uncommonly handsome
young beggar he is too, with the airs of a Highland
chieftain, quite the kind calculated to be dangerous,
266 THE SILVER MAPLE
Eleanor thinks. I'm afraid she wasn't as cordial to
the boy as she might have been, and probably lost me
a couple of good MacDonald votes."
Monteith looked enlightened. " Why, I must
apologise," he said, " but I did not dream I was
transgressing. Miss Herbert surely knows that they
have been like brother and sister since their baby
days?"
" Oh, that's just the trouble. Eleanor's scared
they're not going to remain like brother and sister.
She and your minister's wife down there have got it
into their busy heads that the little monkey's inclined
to think too much about this old chum of hers. Blue-
bell's the right sort, I assure you, Archie, never for-
gets an old friend. Harold's just the same. Every
time he writes he sends his love to every old codger
that chopped down a tree on this place. It's a fine
quality. It's Irish. We get it from my mother's
side, though I'm more English than Irish myself,
praise the Lord. Well, it seems this loyalty is out of
place in this case, and Eleanor thinks the less Belle
sees of this young man the better. All perfect bosh
and unthinkable nonsense, you know; but you can
never account for the mental workings of some peo-
ple. A woman's mind picks up an idea, particularly
if it concerns matrimony in the remotest degree, as
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 267
a hen does a piece of bread, and runs squawking all
round this earthly barnyard advertising the matter
until she convinces herself and all the rest of the
human fowl that she's got a whole baking in her bill.
Eleanor has snatched up some such notion about
Isabel and this young MacDonald, and the youngster
hardly out of short dresses yet! But there it is.
She'll never let go. All rubbish! "
He burst into a hearty laugh, and poked the fire
until it crackled and roared. " Now, Archie, what
sort of figure do you think I shall cut running for
Parliament next fall? Think the Oa '11 run me off
the face of the earth? "
" Just one moment, Captain, before you leave this
subject, and we'll talk politics all day afterwards.
Far be it from me to even glance into the dark mys-
teries of matchmaking, but I'd like to know why Miss
Herbert should object so strongly to my young
friend on so short an acquaintance? "
Captain Herbert looked surprised. He drew him-
self up with a slight access of dignity. " Oh, come
now, Monteith ! " he exclaimed, " you are surely
worldly wise enough to understand that, though this
young Scotty may be the most exemplary inhabitant
of that excellent section where you teach, he would
scarcely be a match for my niece."
268 THE SILVER MAPLE
" I understand perfectly. And if Ralph were one
of the ordinary young men of the place I should most
heartily agree with you. But you don't know him.
He is an exceptionally fine fellow; he has had as
much education as I have been able to guide him to
since I came here, and indeed he is a thorough gentle-
man at heart."
Captain Herbert shrugged his shoulders. "I
suppose that's all true, but what difference does that
make? You don't want me to offer him my niece,
I hope."
Monteith paid no attention to such frivolity. He
turned squarely upon his host.
" Then I suppose you know he's the equal in
birth to anyone in this part of the country. You
know, of course, that his name is not really Mac-
Donald?"
Captain Herbert seized the poker and attacked the
fire again. He seemed waiting for Monteith to pro-
ceed, but as he did not, he answered rather shortly,
" So I believe."
There was a long silence. The host sat back
again, swung one foot over the other impatiently,
and at last turned upon his silent companion.
" Go on ! " he cried. " Out with it ! I know what
you want to say ! "
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 269
Monteith slowly turned his eyes from the fire and
looked into his host's face.
" I don't want to say anything disagreeable, Cap-
tain," he said courteously.
Captain Herbert arose and walked to the window.
" I knew this would come some day, when I saw you
were getting so infernally chummy with all the Mac-
Donald clan. That dear friend of mine, old Fire-
brand Malcolm, has been telling you tales, I see."
" On the contrary, he has scarcely ever mentioned
your name to me. Big Malcolm is not that sort,"
said Monteith, with some dignity. " But it was im-
possible for me not to remember Ralph Stanwell,
Senior ; it all came to me the moment the boy told me
his name."
There was a moment of intense silence, and at last
the man turned from the window.
" Well," he said, coming to the fireside, " why don't
you speak ? What have you got to say about it ? "
His manner was half -defiant.
" I don't know that you'll think it's ray place to
say anything, Captain. But well, since you ask my
opinion, I must confess that, though I am not in
possession of all the facts, the thing does not look
exactly straight."
Captain Herbert glared at him. " You are the
270 THE SILVER MAPLE
only man in Ontario who would dare to say that to
me, Archibald Monteith ! " he cried.
Monteith arose, smiling. " Well, Captain, be
thankful you have at least one honest friend in
Ontario. And," he added, with a sudden change of
tone, " look here, I haven't come to you about this in
anger. I am Ralph's friend, but I am yours, too,
and have many debts of kindness owing you. But,
honestly now, is it or is it not true that you jumped
a claim and appropriated the boy's property, perhaps
unwittingly? "
" It was unwittingly, Archie," burst out the other,
with a look of relief. " I know the affair must look
nasty to you; but, as sure as I stand here, I didn't
know the child was alive until he was nearly seven
years old."
" But the grandfather? Did he never interfere
in the child's interests ? "
" That old fire-eater ! If he hadn't been such a
maniac, I should never have made the mistake I did.
I tell yon the whole thing was misrepresented to me.
Stanwell and his wife and, as I was told, his child
too, died just before I landed here. This property
of his was partially cleared, but was represented to
me as totally unclaimed. You know that as well as
I do. Don't you remember the day I left Toronto
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 271
to come up here? Well, after I had spent hundreds
of dollars on the place that old Lord of the Isles got
wind of it away back there in the bush, and came
down on me like a deposed king. He talked so loud
and so fast, and half of it in Gaelic, that I paid no
attention to him, and at last ordered him off the
place. My brother Harold had been instrumental
in getting the place for me, so I wrote him and asked
if it was possible that anyone connected with Captain
Stanwell could have any claim on my property. He
wrote back to say that Stanwell and everyone be-
longing to him were dead, but that he would come up
soon and see about it. Well, you know he died the
next week, and little Bluebell was left to me. Those
were hard times for me, Archie, as you know. Maud
was taken next, and I was left alone with two help-
less children on my hands and my finances in the very
deuce of a state. I forgot all about everything but
the troubles that had come upon me. Then I sent
for Eleanor to look after my family, and after she
came I had other reasons you know nothing about for
keeping silent concerning Captain Stanwell. And so
the years slipped away, and there it is, you see. If
I had given up the property when I settled here first
I should have been almost destitute. Now, I ask
you, is there any living man cbuld blame me? "
THE SILVER MAPLE
Monteith answered warily. " There are not many
men who would have acted differently in your place, I
fear, only it's rather hard on the boy."
" Pshaw, I don't believe the boy's claim was worth
a brass farthing. If it was, why couldn't his old
grandfather have gone to law about it? "
Monteith shook his head. " You don't know those
Highlanders; they would sooner be bereft of every
stick or stone they possess than enter a law court.
Besides, you can't deny, Captain, that even had Big
Malcolm wished to take such measures, he well knew
that in those days a man of his class hadn't much
chance against one of yours."
Captain Herbert tramped up and down the little
room. Monteith sat silent, waiting. He was able to
guess with some degree of accuracy the workings of
his friend's mind. Captain Herbert was a man who
believed in letting circumstances take care of them-
selves, particularly if they were of the disagreeable
variety ; but he would willingly do no man a wrong ;
and Monteith well knew that his warm heart was a
prey to regret, and he was therefore full of hope for
Ralph. But the Captain had a stormy journey to
traverse before arriving at any conclusion.
" If the matter were taken into a law court r
no fool would say for a moment that I wasn't
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 273
owner of this place after all these years. It was a
howling wilderness when I came here."
" But a court might say you were under some
obligation to that boy, Captain."
" Nonsense ! Do you want me to present him with
a deed of all my property ? "
" Not at all, but I want you to act fairly by him,
as I am sure you will."
The steady tramp ceased at last, and as Monteith
had expected his host came and stood before the fire.
" It's a mean business, the whole thing, I know,
Archie; and I've hated the thought of it all these
years. But what could I do? It was too late to
mend matters when I found my mistake."
" It's never too late to mend," quoted the imper-
turbable guest. " And you're comfortably well off
now, Captain, with that last legacy."
Captain Herbert evidently did not hear him.
"I'm sorry about that boy," he said, staring into
the grate with brows knit, " I'm truly sorry."
Monteith felt that now was his opportunity, and
he put Scotty's case forward strongly. He was care-
ful not to press the boy's legal claims, but made
much of the moral obligation. Here was a young
man with marked ability and no worldly resources,
his high ambitions fettered by poverty. He had
THE SILVER MAPLE
already spent two winters in the lumber camps; he
was getting to be a famous river pilot, and, as mat-
ters stood, there seemed nothing better ahead of him.
Ralph was a youth who would probably make his way
in the world somehow, but just now he needed a help-
ing hand. A little assistance at present would make
his fortune, and who so fitted to give that assistance
as Captain Herbert?
The appeal was received in silence. Captain Her-
bert sat, his brows drawn together, his eyes fixed upon
the fire. " There's another reason, stronger than any
you suspect for my sister's antipathy for the young
man," he said suddenly without looking up.
Monteith's eyebrows rose.
" It is a very unpleasant subject to refer to, but it
seems necessary that you should know. When Cap-
tain Stanwell came to this country he was engaged to
marry my sister. He came out here, presumably to
make a home for her. A pretty face among the
emigrants took his fancy, and he married shortly
after he landed. So you may imagine I am not
likely to have any warm feeling for the rascal's son."
Monteith sat staring. He had come to represent
Scotty's righteous cause, to uphold him as the
wronged, and here were the tables turned upon him.
" All these years, Eleanor never dreamed that the
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 275
child lived. Indeed, I am not sure that she knew
Stanwell had a child, and of course she never guessed
who little Bluebell's Scotty was. And I naturally
didn't see any reason for enlightening her. She
nearly discovered it once, the first time I saw the boy.
But when he brought Bluebell here she saw the re-
semblance at once he's the image of his father she
asked him his name, and it all came out, and you can
imagine the scene. She sent him off, and ordered the
youngster never to speak to him again, and the
poor little monkey's been fairly sick over it. There
couldn't possibly be anything between them, but she
liked him ; they were chums. Now don't you see how
difficult it is for me to show him any kindness, even
if I wanted to ? And I'm sure I don't owe his scoun-
drel father much consideration, anyway."
The ambassador had nothing to say. Scotty's
chances for redress were very poor. He looked into
the fire in deep disappointment. Monteith was not a
religious man, but at that moment he remembered
vaguely a passage from the Bible about the fathers
having eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth be-
ing set on edge.
But for all his talk, Captain Herbert had not set-
tled the affair to his own satisfaction. He was blus-
tering up and down the room again, trying to work
276 THE SILVER MAPLE
off his indignation against fate. He paused once
more in front of his visitor.
" I tell you what, Archie," he cried for the fifth
time, " I hate the whole business. It's been grinding
at me for nearly fifteen years. I've got a son of my
own about that boy's age. His mother died when
he was a baby, and he's everything to me ; and when
I think that if I had been taken too, he might have
fared badly, well it's Look here, what kind
of ability has young Stanwell? "
Monteith gasped. " He's as bright as a steel
trap ; all brains."
"Well," the Captain was thoughtful " what
does he want? "
" He wants a chance to earn some money in a hurry
so that he can go to college. He's determined to get
an education, but the money isn't forthcoming."
" Well, if I should see him through "
Monteith shook his head smilingly. " He wouldn't
accept it. You must remember, the boy has the real
old Highland pride. No, give him some position
where he can earn some money, or think he is earning
it, in a short time."
* You're a Jew at a bargain, Archie Monteith,
and a Scotch Jew, at that, which is the worst kind.
What sort of aptitude would he have for figures ? "
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 277
" He seems to display a special aptitude for almost
anything he undertakes."
"Well, I might, pshaw, why not? Eleanor
needn't know. There's Raye & Hemming. They
want a young man in their office. It means a respon-
sible position, though, Archie, with good pay, and I'm
depending entirely upon your recommendation. He
ought to know something about lumber surely."
"Raye & Hemming!" Monteith started. "I'd
be delighted to see the boy get such a good oppor-
tunity, but the name of that particular lumber com-
pany isn't absolutely synonymous with fair-dealing.
Remember, Ralph's been very strictly brought up,
Captain."
" Pshaw, they're supposed to muddle a little with
politics, but what's the difference? If your paragon
is so squeamish you'd better keep him in the bush. I
can't think of anything else I could do for him half
so good. Those fellows are sharp, I'll admit, but
they know how to make money."
Monteith considered for a moment, then stood up
and held out his hand. " I knew you would do the
square thing, Captain," he said heartily.
" Well, to be honest, I confess I'm not entirely dis-
interested. That young Carruthers the Grits are
bringing out will be sure to rake up this story if
278 THE SILVER MAPLE
I run next fall; and those MacDonalds are double-
dyed Grits already. I don't want to give them a
handle against me. Young Stanwell will make a bet-
ter friend than an enemy. I can clear my tender con-
science and get him out of the road, and save myself
a great deal of future trouble all in one stroke. So
there you are, you see."
Monteith laughed. There was something irresist-
ible about the candour of the man.
" He certainly is an Irishman all through," was
the Scotchman's mental comment.
" And by the way, Archie, does he know anything
about this?"
" Not a word. Big Malcolm never told anybody,
I fancy. That's a gentleman for you ! "
Captain Herbert looked slightly embarrassed.
"I suppose you'd better tell the boy every-
thing?"
" I think it would be better. He's very fair-
minded, and, besides," Monteith smiled, " he is not
likely to feel any resentment against Miss Isabel's
uncle."
" That brings up a very important item in our
bargain," said the Captain f rowningly, " and one
upon which everything depends."
"Yes?"
A WELL-MEANT PLOT 279
" He'll have to understand that there's to be noth-
ing between him and Bluebell. It seems absurd to
talk about such a thing already, but Eleanor seems
certain of danger. So you'll have to put the matter
plainly to the young man, and explain that if he's so
much as caught speaking to her, his position is gone
as quick as a gunshot. I owe that much to my sister.
She couldn't stand the sight of him, and neither of
the youngsters is old enough to be hurt."
Monteith looked dubious, but he did not hesitate
to comply. Ralph would soon forget when he got
away into the world, he told himself, and Miss Her-
bert would probably make the keeping of the bar-
gain very easy for him.
" And now," cried Captain Herbert, rising with an
expression of relief, " that's over. It's been an
abominable tangle all through, a perfect mess, with
everyone in the family mixed up in it, and it's a re-
lief to have it settled. Come along, let's go out and
breathe some fresh air and look at the dogs ! "
XIII
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS
Out of the strife of conflict,
Out of the nightmare wild,
Thou bringest me, spent and broken,
Like the life of a little child.
Like the spume of a far-spent wave,
Or a wreck cast up from the sea,
Out of the pride of being,
My soul returns to Thee.
WILLIAM WILFBED CAMBPELL.
RAYE & HEMMING, managers of that
branch of the Great Lake Lumber Com-
pany that had its headquarters in the town
of Barbay, soon learned that their new clerk was a
young man . of no mean parts. For beside an un-
usual ability, young Stanwell brought to his work
that tenacity of purpose and tendency to unremitting
toil which is the product of the farm.
Scotty found himself treated with every considera-
tion by his chiefs. Captain Herbert's protege was
evidently a person of some importance, and he guessed
that his generous salary was largely due to his
280
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 281
patron's influence. Though his feelings towards his
benefactor were naturally somewhat mixed, since
Bearing how he had defrauded him of his birth-
right, nevertheless Scotty could find small room in
his heart for any ill-will against Isabel's uncle. He
had ill-used him, no doubt, but he was making repara-
tion, and what more could any man do? And, in-
deed, Scotty 's affairs were turning out so much bet-
ter than his fondest hopes had pictured, that he could
not wish the past different. A few years with Raye
& Hemming, he felt assured, would open the golden
gates of college to him, and there he would vindicate
himself.
For the young man was in happy ignorance of the
fact that his present good fortune depended upon his
separation from Isabel. Monteith had not seen fit
to apprise him of that item in Captain Herbert's bar-
gain. The shrewd schoolmaster had a suspicion that
the foolish young man might throw up his hopeful
prospects in a fit of romantic gallantry, and deter-
mined to run no risks until all danger was past.
So the boy did not know how hopeless was the love
he and his golden-haired sweetheart had pledged be-
neath the pines at Kirsty's gate. Miss Herbert
strongly objected to him, he knew, but she could be
overcome in time. They must be separated for a
282 THE SILVER MAPLE
time, but Captain Herbert was his friend, surely, and
Isabel well, he was certain of her, anyway Isabel
would never forget, for had she not promised that
she would think of him always, no matter how far
apart they might be, and how could anyone doubt
Isabel?
His life in the town was beneficial in many ways.
Socially he learned as much as he did in the office of
Raye & Hemming, knowledge which he knew would
stand him in good stead when that longed-for day
would come when he would be permitted to visit Isabel
in her home. He was received in Barbay society in
spite of his rural training, for was he not Captain
Herbert's friend, and the only son of that dashing
Captain Stanwell whom the best people knew in the
early days. And was there not the chance that he
might be a young man of property some day?
And so, though Isabel and home were far away,
Scotty worked away blithely, determined to show Cap-
tain Herbert that he was worthy of the trust reposed
in him, and resolved to win in spite of all odds.
But as he grew more accustomed to the business,
and more intimate with the inner workings of Raye
& Hemming's office, there slowly spread over his
rosy hopes a shadow of misgiving. He found it im-
possible to shut his eyes to the fact that the men
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 283
with whom he was employed, and from whom he was
to learn, were adepts at many of the small, sharp
practices which he had been taught to despise.
Scotty had been brought up with no hazy ideas of
right and wrong. Though Big Malcolm had left the
boy's training almost entirely to his wife, still, as
much by example as precept, he had instilled into his
grandson's very soul a proud contempt for anything
resembling a lie. Any form of deceit, sharp dealing
or trickery came under one despised category, and
within Scotty's earliest memory had been looked upon
by all his household with supreme scorn.
And now in his new environment he found himself
a daily witness of a dozen little petty transactions
such as he had been taught to loathe. Sometimes,
when he was compelled to assist in the sharp tricks
of his employers and received afterwards their laugh-
ing congratulations upon his success, he turned away
from them with a feeling of nausea. He tried to
picture his grandfather in similar circumstances, but
could not. Well he knew Big Malcolm would not
stoop from his lofty height to touch the business of
Raye & Hemming with his finger-tips.
And yet they were not absolutely dishonest; per-
haps this was only what the world considered being
" sharp " in business, he argued. But he could not
284 THE SILVER MAPLE
quite convince himself, and in his perplexity hinted
at his troubles in a letter to Monteith.
The schoolmaster's answer did not succeed in put-
ting his mind at rest. " I know those fellows have
the name of doing some slippery things," he wrote,
" and personally I wish you had hit upon men who
had a better reputation, but there's no denying they
know how to make money, and the shareholders are
naturally rather fond of them. You must just learn
to shut your eyes to little things that don't exactly
suit you and go ahead. Your chance in life depends
upon your ability to please those fellows. Don't lose
it, my boy, it means everything."
Scotty was rather bewildered by this advice, com-
ing from one whom he had long regarded as an in-
fallible authority. In his backwoods simplicity he
felt himself at sea. Was there, then, a different code
of honour in the country from that which was adhered
to in the town?
Not since the days when Granny had had to chide
him for childish naughtiness had he been greatly
troubled over the vexed question of right and wrong.
Looking back now, he could see that he had been
hedged about by what he chose to call circumstances.
First there had been the influences of that home be-
neath the Silver Maple, and the strong, gentle control
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 285
of his grandmother. And when his high spirits had
been in danger of taking him beyond the " border-
land dim," Monteith had come, and there had been
no more trouble. Monteith's training had been quite
different from that which he had received at home.
The schoolmaster despised as a fool anyone who did
not walk the straight and narrow path. Wrong-
doing was idiotic, he declared ; it didn't " pay." But
Monteith's creed did not hold here. It did pay, as
far as Scotty could see. And here he was with no
hedging circumstances to keep him in the right path,
standing at the parting of the ways.
And yet he did not for a moment consider the possi-
bility of drawing back. There was too much at
stake. As Monteith had said, everything depended
upon his faithfully filling his post. To lose the
favour of Raye & Hemming meant to lose everything
he had set his heart upon, Captain Herbert's friend-
ship, his education, Isabel herself.
No, he could not dream of giving up. And so he
took Monteith's advice and went forward doggedly.
But all the enjoyment in his new work was soon gone,
his happy, sanguine days gradually changed to a
season of worry and humiliation ; until he sometimes
longed with all his soul to fling all the unclean bus-
iness aside, take an axe and go back to the bush.
286 THE SILVER MAPLE
He struggled on through the winter, morose and
plodding, until the spring came with scented breezes
and the songs of birds calling him to come away.
Barbay was situated picturesquely on an arm of
Lake Simcoe. From the office window he could
catch enchanting glimpses of sapphire lake and
emerald hill, and he was seized with an intense long-
ing to return to his outdoor life. If he could only
get back to his old environment for even a day, he
felt he could readjust his ideas and see things more
clearly. The 24th of May, the birthday of the good
Queen, brought him the longed-for holiday. The of-
fice claimed him for a few hours in the morning, but
early in the afternoon he hired a canoe, and, supplied
with a gun and rod, a blanket and plenty of bread
and meat, he paddled away into the blue expanse.
He would go on until he came to the forest, he de-
termined, and there he would camp for the night.
His spirits rose like a freed bird as, with long,
steady strokes, hour after hour, he glided smoothly
up the low, green shore. He was some distance from
any human habitation when the steady dip, dip of his
paddle echoed farther inland than usual. He paused
and peered into the woods. He was on the edge of
a forest whose tangled fringe of birch and elm hung
over the greening water. But just behind this fringe
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 287
was a little clearing, all smothered in riotous under-
growth. Scotty ran his canoe up on the sandy beach,
her bow sweeping aside the drooping elm branches,
and leaped ashore. He plunged into the little tangled
circle of undergrowth, and at the first sight gave a
boyish whoop of delight.
In the centre of the space, facing the water, stood
an old log shanty, a temporary structure erected in
the lumbering days. It contained bunks filled with
straw. Here was the very place to spend the night ;
it seemed waiting for him. He set to work to make
camp with the skill of a lifelong practice. A splen-
did black bass that responded hungrily to his bait
made a fine addition to his larder. He soon had a
merry fire in front of the cabin, sending a blue
column of smoke straight into the treetops, and when
it burned down to a bed of coals he cooked his fish.
Supper was soon over, the canoe stowed safely high
up on the shore, and he had nothing to do but enjoy
the silence and peace of the wild, lonely spot. He
built up his fire again, partly because the May night
was cool and partly to keep off the mosquitoes, and
stretched himself full length upon the ground before
it. It was the first time in months that he had been
absolutely at peace. Around him was the encircling
forest, which bulked largely in his earliest memories,
288 THE SILVER MAPLE
and always gave him the sensation of being at home.
The sweet pungent odour of burning evergreens filled
the air, mingling with the scents of the forest. Above
the dark ring of wild, luxuriant growth the sky shone
a clear transparent crystal, with faint illusive sug-
gestions of rose and orange, for out there in the wide
world the sun was setting, and Lake Simcoe glinted
between the tree trunks flushed and smiling. The lit-
tle breeze of the afternoon had died away, and not a
leaf stirred ; only where the subsiding waves disturbed
the shells and pebbles on the beach could be heard a
soft whispering rustle.
But as the night fell, from the darkening forest
there arose the evening chorus of the birds. Each
tall pine tree, silhouetted sharply against the crystal
sky, was soon ringing with the transporting vespers
of the veery. Away back on a hill, far above the
little clearing, a whip-poor-will stationed himself in a
treetop to complain over and over of the darkness
and loneliness of the world. Just at Scotty's right
hand, from behind a screen of scented basswood, came
a sudden discordant sound, the rasping " meyow "
of the cat-bird ; a moment's silence followed and then
arose a burst of delirious, bubbling melody, as though
the naughty songster, hidden within his aromatic cur-
tains, were laughing impudently at having deceived
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 289
his hearers into thinking he was only a cat. A loon
arose with a splash from the reedy shore of an island
opposite and sailed away through the amber air; his
wild, derisive laugh echoed back from the glimmering
sunset bay where he had joined his comrades. Far
above, the " scree-ak, scree-ak " of the night-hawks
whirling in the heavens echoed away into the green
depths ; up the long dark aisles came the sweet " hoo,
hoo " of the owl, and the clear ringing notes of the
whitethroat " calling across the dusk." The frogs,
down by the whispering water's edge, joined their
chorus to the night music ; and on every side, keep-
ing at a respectful distance from the smoke of the
fire, the mosquitoes " all in a wailful choir " uttered
their little, thin, doleful tunes. And always, far up
in the dark pinetops, like bells in a cathedral tower,
rang out the clear, enchanting, metallic notes; the
long liquid carol of the veery.
Scotty drew a great sigh of content ; he was home
again. The magic spirit of the woods, with its sense
of peace and freedom, enfolded his very soul. Those
things of earth, the sordid meannesses of his every-
day life, faded away; they were as far removed as
that diamond star he was watching twinkling on the
sharp peak of a dark fir. He lay on his back, his
hands clasped beneath his head, and gazed up into
290 THE SILVER MAPLE
the tender blue of heaven until the night began to
deepen. The crackling embers of the fire slowly
smouldered down, the chorus in the treetops began
to subside. Gradually a great stillness settled oyer
the velvet darkness of the woods, and still lying
motionless and content he could hear only the soft
stir of a leaf or the occasional " hush, hush ! " that
the waters and the shells whispered, as though they
were telling each other that the world was going to
sleep.
Scotty forgot his bed in the shanty, a soft balsam
limb made a fragrant pillow, and mother earth was
the best couch. His senses floated away.
He was at home, lying under the Silver Maple ; the
sound of Granny's spinning-wheel came drowsily
through the doorway. The pathway across the
swamp to Kirsty's clearing was blue with violets; a
white figure was flitting down it, coming to him with
the sunshine on her golden hair and the violets at her
feet.
Suddenly he was wide awake ; not startled, but with
all his keen, woodsman senses alert. Instinctively he
reached for his gun. Something strange in his sur-
roundings had aroused him, he knew. What was it?
He lay listening intently.
And then out of the depths of the darkness came
VOICE IN WILDERNESS
the answer, a sound, dim and far off, but echoing
melodiously through the leafy arches, a voice as of
an angel, singing:
" The Lord thee keeps, the Lord thy shade
On thy right hand doth stay:
The moon by night thee shall not smite,
Nor yet the sun by day."
Scotty raised himself upon his elbow ; the sound of
the old psalm, coming without warning out of the
uninhabited darkness, struck him with awe. Had the
forest taken voice, or was it all but a part of his
dream? He listened breathlessly until the psalm was
finished and the silence had again fallen. There
seemed something too sweetly mysterious about the
singing to come from a human source. There was
an intense silence for a few moments, then the voice
rose again, this time nearer and more distinct,
"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,
He makes me down to lie-
in pastures green, He leadeth me
The quiet waters by."
Scotty was overwhelmed with a sudden rusH of
memory. He was reminded of that day so long ago
when the awesome shadows of the winter woods had
terrified him with the first conception of death, and
sent him with unerring instinct to the true refuge.
292 THE SILVER MAPLE
Who could be wandering in this wild, lonely place
at night singing, singing the very things calculated
to touch the depths of his soul?
The sound was coming nearer, growing in power,
as though the singer felt the sublime confidence of
the words.
" Yea, though I walk through death's dark vale,
Yet will I fear no ill,
For Thou art with me and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still.*'
And then Scotty recognised the voice. It was one
which, once heard, was not easily forgotten. It be-
longed to the great preacher, Mr. McAlpine, the man
who years before had come to the Glen, and with his
message from the Eternal roused the place to a bet-
ter life. But he was an old man now, and retired
from his labours, and how came he to be wandering
in this trackless wilderness after nightfall?
The voice had ceased, and now the sound of foot-
steps in the crackling underbrush could be heard.
Scotty could discern a dim figure coming towards his
fire. He stood up as it approached. The old man
with his long white beard, his bare silver head, for he
carried his hat reverently, his tall, gaunt figure and
piercing eye gave the young man the impression of
one of the great men of Bible times, Isaiah, or that
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 293
one who preached in the wilderness beyond Jordan
and called to his hearers to make straight the paths
for the coming of the Messiah.
With the mutual feeling of friendship that arises
between men in the lonely places of the earth, the
two met with outstretched hands.
A smile of pleasure at the open face and fine
physique of his unexpected host flashed over the old
man's face.
" Big Malcolm MacDonald's grandson ! " he cried,
when Scotty had introduced himself. " Oh, yes, in-
deed, I know Big Malcolm well," he shook the young
man's hand once more : " Ah yes, it was his eldest
son's funeral that first took me to the Oa. God
moves in a mysterious way, indeed. And you were
but a child then, and now you are a man. And it is
a good thing to be standing upon the threshold of
life, is it not?"
A good thing? Scotty would have given a most
emphatic affirmative in response some months before,
but now he was doubtful.
" Yes," he said hesitatingly, " in some ways. But
how do you happen to be away back here alone, Mr.
Me Alpine? "
The minister explained his presence. He had been
asked to go to Barbay to assist with the sacrament
294 THE SILVER MAPLE
on the following Sabbath, and had intended to spend
the night with a friend and take the stage out in the
morning.
" But I could not wait," he concluded, " I was con-
strained to come on." There was that strange gleam
in his eye which had always so filled Scotty with awe
in his childhood. The young man understood. Mr.
Me Alpine's burning restlessness, his erratic way of
making arrangements to be driven to certain places,
and then suddenly setting out in the dead of night
to walk prodigious distances had been the wondering
talk of the Oa since he was a child. For this man
carried a burden of souls that gave him no rest day
or night, and that even now, when he was broken and
aged, sometimes drove him to stupendous labour.
" But you will surely stay here to-night ! " cried
Scotty, feeling in the capacity of host even in this
wild tangle of forest growth. " I am camping, but
there is plenty of room in the shanty, and I can cook
you some supper."
The old man accepted the hospitality gratefully.
He appeared worn and exhausted, and seemed to have
suddenly lost his restless energy, as though the spur
which had driven him forth in the night had been
removed.
Scotty made a comfortable seat for him of cedar
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 295
boughs placed against a large tree trunk, and stirred
up the fire to a blaze. Its rays danced forth, lighting
up the worn face and white hair of the old man seated
before it, and the strong frame of the young one
standing erect in splendid contrast. The light made
the log walls of the old shanty stand forth, touched
here and there the fantastic heaps of dead brush-
wood and misshapen stumps, illumined the underside
of the adjacent trees and danced away down the dim
avenues to be lost among the ghostly shadows.
And while his host prepared supper, the minister
beguiled the time by asking after all his friends in
the Oa and the Glen, especially the Highlanders, for
Mr. McAlpine was not above possessing a little weak-
ness for anyone who spoke the Gaelic. And then he
must know what the young man was doing, and how
he came to be there.
Scotty answered his questions in the distantly re-
spectful manner that all the Glenoro youth had been
wont to show this man. He explained his sudden
excursion to the woods as merely a natural desire to
be out of doors. He told something too of his life
with Raye & Hemming in Barbay, but he had all the
reticence of his class and kin, and the minister learned
little from what he said.
And while they conversed the elder man was watch-
296 THE SILVER MAPLE
ing the younger with the keen eye of a detective. For
to old John McAlpine every soul with whom he came
in contact was a burden to be carried until it was laid
safely at the foot of the cross, and he was yearning
to know if this young man, so respectful and kindly
of manner, had yet had his heart touched by Divine
love.
He tried to read the dark, young face in the light
of the dancing flames, noting every feature the in-
tellectual brow, the kind, bright eyes, the mouth, still
boyish, and showing some wilfulness and impatience
of rule; the resolute chin. A good face, the man
concluded, with rare possibilities. But he was con-
vinced before the conversation closed that its owner
was not a follower of the meek and lowly One.
For the minister was a marvellous reader of char-
acter, and in spite of Scotty's reserve, before the
evening was gone he had allowed his guest to discover
that he intended to carve out his own destiny as he
desired, fearless of consequences.
When everything was in readiness for the night,
and the young man had returned from making up a
second bed in the shanty, the minister drew up close
to the fire and took from his pocket a Bible.
He slowly turned over the leaves, praying earnestly
that he might be guided in his choice to something
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 297
that would touch this young man's soul. The 139th
Psalm caught his eye, and the deep voice slowly and
solemnly read:
" O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.
Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising,
thou understandest my thoughts afar off. . . .
Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall
I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven,
thou art there : if I make my bed in hell, behold thou
art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and
dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there
shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold
me. If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me;
even the night shall be light about me."
Leaning back against a fallen tree trunk, his face
partially hidden in shadow, Scotty listened intently.
Had this man been sent out of the darkness of the
forest to show him how foolhardy were his attempts
to escape from God? For had he not been saying to
himself all these past months that surely the darkness
of secrecy would cover his wrongdoing; that some-
how he would escape from God.
He had not read the Bible since he left home, and
the old familiar words, coming like a long-lost friend,
struck him with their inevitable truth. His rest in
the lap of nature had brought him to himself ; he saw
298 THE SILVER MAPLE
things with a clearer vision, and he realised now that
the fierce yearning to be away which had driven him
to the forest had been really the desire to escape the
Eye that never sleeps. The longing to take the
wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost
parts of the sea had been upon him, and here God's
messenger had met him, and he stood like a hunted
animal at bay.
The minister read on without pause almost to the
end, and then stopped.
There were two more 1 verses, Scotty well knew; he
and Isabel had learned that Psalm years ago at
Granny's knee. " Search me, O God, and know my
heart; try me, and know my thoughts; and see if
there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the
way everlasting." He looked up half -inquiringly as
the voice ceased. The minister smiled comprehend-
ingly.
" I see you know what follows," he said ; " it is a
great thing to be grounded in the Scriptures in youth.
Do you know why I stopped? "
" No," said Scotty, in a whisper.
" Because the next is a verse I hardly dare to read.
It is a fearful thing to ask the Almighty God to
search the heart, for there are wicked ways in us,
many and deep." He began slowly turning over the
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 299
leaves again, and Scotty waited with a strange dread
of what was coming.
The passage was from the challenging words that
came to Job out of the whirlwind, and like a whirl-
wind they swept over the young man's soul.
" Who is this that darkeneth counsel, by words
without knowledge? Gird up now thy loins, like a
man, for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me."
He paused a moment and his listener held his
breath. To him the words did not seem to be spoken
by man, but seemed to come out of the whispering
darkness of the great forest.
" Where wast thou when I laid the foundations
of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.
. . . Whereupon are the foundations thereof
fastened? or who laid the cornerstone thereof; when
the morning stars sang together and all the sons of
God shouted for joy? "
Scotty's heart suddenly swelled. This great Je-
hovah was speaking directly to him; the Jehovah
whose inexorable laws were written in man's very be-
ing, as well as in His Book. And he, His creature,
was about to set them aside, declaring that he would
walk as seemed right in his own eyes.
But the minister was still reading. " Hast thou
commanded the morning since thy days; and caused
300 THE SILVER MAPLE
the day-spring to know his place? . . . Have
the gates of death been opened unto thee? or hast
thou seen the doors of the shadow of death? . . .
Canst thou bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades,
or loose the bands of Orion ? "
Scotty listened with heart and ears, and when the
minister came at last to Job's confession, he felt he
could echo the words, " I have heard of thee by the
hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee.
Wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and
ashes."
The amber column of smoke rising straight to the
circle of sky was suddenly touched with a silver
radiance. Up from behind the dark island the
moon had arisen, radiant and burnished, and was
sending a long shimmering pathway across the deep
blue of Lake Simcoe. Scotty 's eyes followed its glint
between the tree trunks and the words came over him
again, " Now mine eye seeth thee." But when the
minister paused he came back to realities. Another
picture rose before him, the sweet face of the girl
he loved, the one whom he was to win by keeping in
the path wherein he now walked. A look of defiance
flitted across his face. No. He would go on. He
could never give up now !
But the leaves had rustled again, and now the
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 301
minister had resumed his word pictures. This time
they were not of the mighty Jehovah, just, unap-
proachable, omnipotent; but of the lonely Man of
Nazareth standing by the lakeside and calling the
fishermen to Him, and then on to Calvary when He
said, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do."
The elder man's keen eyes saw the tokens of a con-
flict in the other's face, and he was too wise to address
him directly. His occasional remarks had the effect
of soliloquies, but they plunged Scotty's soul in the
valley of shadows.
He was thinking how all his life he had been com-
passed about. He knew now that what he had called
hedging circumstances had been God's very Hand.
His grandmother's faithful teachings had guided his
careless boyish feet ; his grandfather's falls from the
high position he had set himself were graphic object-
lessons to teach the value of righteousness ; Monteith's
influence had kept him in the right way, and now how
dared he turn aside of his own will?
But what was the minister reading now? What
but the story of a young man, one so goodly and
commendable in person and character that the Mas-
ter had regarded him with an especial feeling of com-
radeship ; but there was one thing he refused to give
THE SILVER MAPLE
up, and he turned his back upon the Saviour of man-
kind and went away sorrowful, " for his possessions
were very great." And Scotty's possessions were
great also those he was about to reach out and
seize, infinitely beyond the value of gold and silver,
and he wanted to turn away, too, but something held
him.
The minister glanced at the young man's face, and
knew his heart had been touched. He closed the
Book. " Let us pray," he said, and rising, knelt
by the side of a moss-grown log. But Scotty did not
kneel; he sat erect, staring with desperate eyes into
the fire, and striving with all the force of his will to
harden his heart. To his relief the old man made
no remark upon his strange conduct when he arose
from his knees, but at once went to his bed in the
shanty. Some subtle instinct told him the young
man would be better alone.
Long after he had retired Scotty walked up and
down before the fire, fighting out the old, weary bat-
tle ; but now with a fury as if for life.
To go on with his work at Raye & Hemming's now
in the light of what had come to him this night would
be, he knew, to cast aside all the teachings of his life-
time the teachings of Granny, of experience, yes,
even of Monteith, for he realised now they had all
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 303
come from God, and were one. He was down in the
valley of the shadows, and the rod and staff were
of no comfort to him, for they meant pain and
renunciation.
He could not give up Captain Herbert's friend-
ship and Isabel; he could not go on. The fire had
died down to a red eye looking sullenly out of the
smoky darkness, the moon had sunk behind the forest
ring, and out of the blackness of night came a sensa-
tion of approaching change, a hint that the dawn
was near. As Scotty, pale and haggard, stood look-
ing into the dying fire, a step aroused him and the
minister was by his side.
" Why, sir," he cried in surprise, " you will surely
not be getting up yet. It is quite dark."
" I was not sleeping," said the old man. " I could
not but watch you," he added gently, " for I cannot
but see you are carrying a burden; one heavy for
your time of life, my lad, and I wondered if I could
be of any help."
All Scotty's mental attitude of defiance melted
away before this gentle sympathy. He was silent,
simply through the inability to speak, and the min-
ister continued, " Do not speak of it if you would
rather not. I would not force your confidence,
but just come and we will pray about it, and
304 THE SILVER MAPLE
you will tell the Father and He will be making it
right."
Scotty turned with a gesture of defeat. To pray
was the last thing he desired to do, it meant sur-
render; but this time he knelt obediently at the min-
ister^ side by the dying fire.
And as he bowed his head he was suddenly startled
by the words that broke forth. It seemed as if all
his own soul's struggle had been transferred to the
man at his side. Old John McAlpine had a won-
drous gift of prayer, one that never failed to cast a
solemn spell over his hearers, and to-night he pleaded
for the soul of this young man as if for his life. His
big hands were knotted, the perspiration stood in
beads on his white forehead, and his agonised voice
rose and went ringing away into the forest. Scotty
was awesomely reminded of One who prayed in a gar-
den, quite unlike this one of nature's wild making,
and sweat drops of blood because of the sin he was to
bear. And before the minister had ceased it seemed
as if that other One came to his side and took up the
petition, for Scotty felt his worldly desires slip from
him like a garment. The struggle was over. Hence-
forth there could be no indecision, for he was not his
own, but had been bought with a price.
When they arose from their knees the darkness had
VOICE IN WILDERNESS 805
suddenly become transparent. A mysterious rustle
and whisper of awakening life was on all sides, the
dawn was on the point of breaking. Scotty's fire,
like his worldly hopes, had died down to pale ashes,
but far out on the faintly grey bosom of Lake Sim-
coe, and away beyond its dark forest-ring, soon to
put all lesser lights to shame in their triumphant
blaze, were kindling the fires of Heaven.
XIV
THE VOYAGEURS
Oh, the East is but the West, with the sun a little hotter;
And the pine becomes a palm by the dark Egyptian water;
And the Nile's like many a stream we know that fills its
brimming cup;
We'll think it is the Ottawa as we track the batteaux up!
Pull, pull, pull! as we track the batteaux up!
It's easy shooting homeward when we're at the top.
WILLIAM WYE SMITH.
THE Imperial transport, Ocean King, had
loosed from her moorings at Montreal and
was swinging down with the tide of the
mighty St. Lawrence, and on her deck, many leaning
eagerly over the railing to get a last glimpse of home,
stood some four hundred stalwart sons of the Maple
Land. Great, strong fellows they were, all with the
iron muscles and steady, clear eyes of the expert river-
man. For these were the famous voyageurs, trained
from childhood on the rapids and cataracts of Ca-
nadian streams and summoned now to the help of the
mother country on the ancient river of Egypt.
When Lord Wolseley found himself face to face
30
THE VOYAGEURS 307
with the tremendous task of reaching Gordon far up
the hostile Nile, he remembered the assistance he had
received in an earlier expedition in a western land
from the daring, untiring, cool-headed, warm-hearted
Canadian boatmen. And he asked that once more
they might give him aid. And here they were, the
best the country could produce, a rollicking, light-
hearted crew, ready for anything adventure, hard
work, danger, death.
Among those who stood longest gazing at the re-
ceding land were two who had begun their years of
apprenticeship for this great day on the little, noisy,
foaming stream that scolded its way into the Oro
river. And one of them, looking at the fast-fading
outline of Mount Royal, saw instead an old log house
among the enfolding Ontario hills, with a Silver
Maple spreading its protecting branches above the
roof. His home! and the dear home faces, how
they rose up from the misty shore ; and another face,
the most beautiful in the world, as he had seen it that
winter night in the sunset glow!
And he had left all, had turned his back upon
friends and home, and love itself, for what? A mere
sentiment ? A mad notion born of that night in the
wilderness the spring before? The man who had
been his guide and instructor, his staunchest friend
308 THE SILVER MAPLE
and truest adviser from boyhood, had called his new
impulse by just such a name, and the loss of his
esteem had been one of the bitterest drops in Scotty's
cup of renunciation. Apparently he had done in-
jury to himself in every quarter, by giving up his
connection with Raye & Hemming. Captain Herbert
had been disgusted and had declared he washed his
hands of him, Monteith had been filled with righteous
indignation over such blind folly, and his grand-
parents had been keenly disappointed. And Isabel?
That was the hardest part. What would Isabel think?
Perhaps she, too, was offended, and he had had no
opportunity to vindicate himself. And yet, through
disappointments, estrangements and doubts, he clung
tenaciously to his purpose. He was done forever
with Raye & Hemming, and no power on earth
could drive him back. Before he left Barbay, Mon-
teith had come down upon him to bring him to a
more reasonable state of mind. The schoolmaster
had scolded, entreated, and had even brought up ar-
guments which Scotty was powerless to combat. In
his perplexity and bewilderment he could answer
nothing; only there had come vividly to his mind
the reply of another young man in somewhat similar
circumstances; a young man, who, when clever peo-
ple argued that the Man who had opened his eyes
THE VOYAGEURS 309
was at fault, could only say, " One thing I know,
that, whereas I was blind, now I see."
For that night in the wilderness had given this
young man a clearer vision of right and wrong, the
keen perception granted to those only who have
passed by Calvary and seen the One who suffered
there and conquered. And in that uplifting moment
he had heard the voice of the Eternal say, " This
is the way, walk ye in it " ; and he could not but
obey.
So Scotty had turned his back upon all his worldly
prospects, because they had led from the way of
integrity ; and early in the summer had gone to seek
employment amongst the lumbering centres of the
Ottawa. And away back there he had been tracked
and joined by his faithful henchman, Dan Murphy.
This strange freak on Scotty's part had no effect
on Danny's warm heart. What cared he that his
chum preferred working in the bush to a college edu-
cation? That mattered little, so long as they were
together. For had Scotty turned Mohammedan and
gone forth to convert the world to his beliefs, not
one inch would his friend's loyalty have swerved.
And, while they worked on the upper Ottawa, the
call for the Nile voyageurs had come. Here was
an opportunity to see the world and serve the Em-
310 THE SILVER MAPLE
pire, and the boys had gladly embraced it. And so
Scotty was going down into Egypt, because the great
Controller of Destiny had need of him there, as He
had long before needed another young man in that
same land to perfect His divine plans.
The Canadians commenced active work at a sta-
tion on the Nile a few miles from Wady Haifa. The
busy little trains, that came puffing up from Cairo,
landed this latest addition to Britain's forces amid
all the bustle and stir of the departing army. Here
the naval detachment of the River Column was pre-
paring to embark. The steel-keeled whaleboats, the
especial care of the voyageurs, were being fitted up
with masts and oars. As soon as ready they were
filled with soldiers or Dongolese boatmen, the Cana-
dian bowman and helmsman took their places, and
out they shot up the swift, brown current.
Scotty and his chum found that their turn to em-
bark was not likely to come for some time, and they
employed their first day of leisure in looking about
them. To their unaccustomed Western eyes the
place presented endless interest. It was full of the
noise and display of a military camp, and alive with
potent signs of war. Trains loaded with ammunition
went puffing out; bands of baggage-mules, driven
THE VOYAGEURS 311
by scantily-dressed natives, came down to the water's
edge to drink; and stately camels swayed past.
Now and then a detachment of a regiment swung
out desertward, whether on hostile acts intent or
for exercise, only the initiated could tell. The boys
stood watching them with absorbed interest. First
came the Coldstream Guards, then the Grenadiers,
and finally the Black Watch stepping out splendidly
to the rousing scream of the pipers. Scotty had
been taking in all the sights calmly, but this last was
too much for his Highland blood; and, in spite of
Dan's jeers, he leaped to his feet with a cheer, as
they whirled past.
But even such spectacles as these began to pall.
The Canadians soon discovered that an army is an
unwieldy monster, and that even a flying column
moves slowly. When the third day came and they
still awaited their call to the boats, Dan became
restless. This period of enforced idleness acted
upon him like firewater upon a wild Indian, and
his friend soon had his hands full keeping him from
disaster.
On the last afternoon of their waiting Scotty
composed himself under a gum acacia tree near the
river to write home. They expected to go at any
moment and he must leave a last message for Granny.
312 THE SILVER MAPLE
With the aid of an old box for a writing desk and the
battered lid of a tin can for an inkbottle he managed
his task fairly well. The sun was blazing down on
rock and sand and river, but the breeze from the
north blew up cool and grateful, reminding him of
the June zephyrs that came up from Lake Oro to
stir the boughs of the Silver Maple.
Near him, stretched full length upon the ground,
lay Dan, striving to be as cross as his light-hearted
Irish spirits would permit. Scotty had just a moment
before forcibly rescued him from a row with some
idle, poker-playing Tommies, and the wild Irishman
felt small gratitude towards his preserver. He rolled
about restlessly, pronouncing serio-comic denuncia-
tions upon everything in Egypt from Lord Wolseley
to the baggage-mules, and informing his inexorable
keeper at short intervals, that if something didn't
hurry up and happen, glory be, but he'd commit
high treason a crime of which Dan had only the
vaguest notion, but one which he imagined immeas-
ureably transcended all other forms of iniquity.
Scotty paid no attention to these threats; he
finished his letter, packed his writing materials into
his kit bag, and stood up to stretch his limbs. Over
near the officers' quarters a couple of Tommies were
making strenuous efforts to hold down a reluctant
THE VOYAGEURS 313
and evil-minded camel long enough to permit a fat
and pompous Colonel to mount.
" That brute must be some relation to you, Dan,"
said Scotty laughingly, " he seems to have got up
a mighty objection to everything in the way of com-
mon sense."
Dan did not reply ; he had raised himself upon his
elbow and was listening eagerly to something else.
His attention had been caught by the conversation
of a couple of officers who were coming up from the
water-side. One was a young army subaltern, fresh
from home, very innocent and well-meaning, but be-
longing to that class of youth who, because of a
serene consciousness of vast inward resources, is cer-
tain to fall a prey to circumstances. His companion
was slightly older, a young officer of the Naval
Brigade under Lord Beresford. He was squarely-
set, with a frank, good-humoured face.
The subaltern was evidently showing his newly-
arrived friend the sights. " Those are the American
Indians we've brought out to pilot the boats," he
explained, with a nod in the direction of a group of
French Canadians standing at the boat-slip ; " rather
a fine looking lot o' beggars, aren't they? "
His companion laughed. " Indians be hanged ! "
he exclaimed merrily. " More than half those fellows
3U THE SILVER MAPLE
are no more Indians than you are. Jove, it does a
fellow's eyes good to see something from home. Fm
going to have a chat with them."
" Pshaw, you don't expect to find friends there, I
hope. Ton honour, they're red Indians, every one
of them. Wolseley got 'em. And Harcourt says
they're the aboriginal thing."
" Your Colonel's an insular baa-lamb, Bobby ; you
can bet Wolseley never said it. Surely, as I was
born and brought up in Canada I'm likely to know
a red Indian from myself now, am I not? "
The subaltern looked annoyed. " I think you're
mistaken this time," he said with some dignity ; " per-
haps an odd one or so may be white, but the majority
are the real thing. Look at that big fellow there,
now. I'll bet two to one he's a full blood, anyway."
The other glanced at the man indicated. Scotty's
face and arms, always brown, had become almost
copper-coloured in even his short exposure to the
Egyptian sun, and his lithe, muscular figure, leaning
easily against the tree, was not unlike that of the
stalwart Caughnawagas from the St. Lawrence, but
as the young naval officer looked at him he laughed
derisively.
" Done with you," he cried gaily. " Go and ask
him."
THE VOYAGEURS 315
The subaltern marched up promptly to the voy-
ageur. " I say, Canadian," he said somewhat stiffly,
" here's a gentleman who says you're not an Indian.
Just tell him politely that he's mistaken, please."
Scotty turned from his contemplation of the camel
to find, to his surprise, that he was being addressed.
But before he could reply, Dan had forestalled him.
That young man, whose red hair and Hibernian fea-
tures could have left no doubt even in the subaltern's
mind as to his nationality, had been listening, with
huge enjoyment, to the conversation. He had risen
to his feet and was saluting with grave respect.
" Sure it's yourself that's right, sir," he said with
an apologetic air. " Anybody can see he's an Indian.
He belongs to one of our worst tribes the Blood-
drinkers, they call themselves. His name's Big
Scalper. And sure," he added, lowering his voice
fearfully, " it's the bloodthirsty brute he is, an* no
mistake ! "
The young naval officer came forward and gazed
fixedly into the speaker's meek and innocent counte-
nance, but could detect there no smallest sign of
deceit. The subaltern looked solemn.
" Is that all true he's telling us, Big Scalper? "
he asked dubiously.
" Sure, there's no use talkin' to him, sir," broke
316 THE SILVER MAPLE
in Dan, with patient surprise ; " he can't spake a
word but his own outlandish jabber. The cratur was
jist runnin' wild in the bush when Colonel Denison
caught him an' brought him out here." The young
man's air of kindly anxiety, mingled with innocent
seriousness, was too much for mortal gravity. Big
Scalper turned his back with strange suddenness and
stared fixedly out upon the hot, grey glint of the
river.
A little group of idle Canadians had begun to
gravitate towards them. Dan Murphy had already
earned a reputation among them as a source of enter-
tainment, and was particularly interesting whenever
anyone evinced a desire to learn anything of his
native land. The officers were wont to question the
voyageurs, and Dan played upon their ignorance of
the western half of their Empire, which was deep
enough to begin with, and made it abysmal.
" I told you," cried the subaltern triumphantly.
" I've won my bet, old fellow ! "
" Strange how he's going to pilot a boat-load of
men up the river without the use of the English lan-
guage," suggested the young naval officer, with a
slightly sarcastic drawl.
" Aw, ye don't know him," cried Mr. Murphy in
a tone expressive of fear, " he'll find a way to make
THE VOYAGEURS 317
them mind or he'll bash all their heads in. Sure,
he's the Divil himself, sir. Jist look at the wicked
eye o' him now, will ye? "
This was going too far for safety, and Big Scalper
turned upon his loquacious showman. He was too
much an artist to spoil the play by proclaiming it a
sham, so he spoke a few rapid words in Gaelic. The
Murphy's knowledge of that language was naturally
limited, but there was never a boy in Glenoro school,
be his nationality what it might, who did not pick
up much of the war-vocabulary of the Fighting Mac-
Donalds, and Dan had no difficulty in gathering from
Scotty's remark that he was being strongly advised
to immediately shut his mouth.
"What's he sayin'?" inquired the subaltern in-
terestedly.
Dan's face was a study in pained and polite
anxiety.
" I'm askin* yer pardon, sir," he said nervously,
" but I think it would be safer if ye wouldn't be
lookin' at him anny longer. He's askin' me which
o' yer scalps I think would look best danglin' from
his belt!"
There was a shout of long-suppressed laughter
from the on-looking Canadians, and the young
officer's face flamed up angrily.
318 THE SILVER MAPLE
" I shall report you for this insolence ! " he cried,
suddenly awakening to his ignominious position.
But his friend caught his arm and drew him
away.
" Come out of this, Bob ! " he cried in a chok-
ing voice. " You'll report nothing ! You'd better
not monkey with those fellows. That young Irish
ruffian was improvising as he went along. And I'm
awfully sorry, Bobby dear, but I'm afraid I've
won my bet," he added, allowing his laughter to
overcome him, " because because oh, Holy Maria,
hold me up, I'm going to die! because Big Scalper
speaks a language that's amazingly like the stuff
the pipers of the Black Watch jabber to one
another ! "
As Scotty moved down to the landing he gave his
tormentor a good-humoured shaking. " It's lots of
fun, I know, Dan ; but you'd better keep that long,
Irish tongue of yours still before the officers, or you'll
get into trouble. I don't know what that fellow's
going to do."
" Be jabers, it would be worth pickin* oakum for
a year jist to take down his blamed consate. Did
ye iver see such a banty rooster as the young wasp
was? The little sailor chap wasn't half bad. And,
say, Scot, did ye hear him say he was a Canadian
THE VOYAGEURS 319
or from Canady, or somethin' like that? It ac-
counts for his good manners."
" Who, the bluejacket? " Scotty looked with in-
terest after the young man's retreating form. There
was something in his trim, straight figure that some-
how seemed familiar.
" What's his name, I wonder? " he began, when a
peremptory order interrupted. " Stanwell, into
number 150 !" cried the sharp voice of the overseer,
and Scotty sprang into the stern of the boat and
was off for his first battle with the cataracts of the
Nile.
XV
THE SECRET OF THE NILE
O mystic Nile! Thy secret yields
Before us; thy most ancient dreams
Are mixed with far Canadian fields
And murmur of Canadian streams.
C. D. G. ROBERTS.
THE awe-inspiring designation which Dan
had bestowed upon his friend was not readily
dropped. The Canadians seized and used
it joyfully. Others who heard the name and were
not aware of the joke in which it originated supposed
that the bearer of it was really an Indian chief,
about whose bloody prowess they were ready to be-
lieve any tales which the ingenious Mr. Murphy
might invent. And so, for the remainder of the
voyage, Scotty was known throughout the column as
Big Scalper, the fiercest Indian from the Canadian
wilds.
But in the days that followed Dan found few
opportunities for indulging his reckless humour, for
soon the army was moving forward rapidly and the
boatmen were in the midst of stupendous toil. The
320
SECRET OF THE NILE 321
River Column had been bidden to make haste. Gor-
don was shut up in Khartoum waiting his rescuers,
and no one must rest. On they went, day after day,
past dreary stretches of sand, broken only by an oc-
casional and equally dreary dom palm; past barren
ledges of rock, deserted mud villages and ruined tem-
ples ; battling madly with a rapid, only to find
when it was overcome that another lay ahead; toil-
ing strenuously to catch up with the enemy, only
to see at nightfall their spearheads disappearing
over the last brown ridge of sand hills. Scotty felt
himself becoming a machine, something that did the
day's work mechanically. To toil all day in the
bow or stern of a boat in the scorching heat of the
pitiless sun, or walk over blistering rock and daz-
zling sand ; to sleep at night inside a square of good
British bayonets, chilled by the numbing wind from
the north ; to rise at the bugle-call and go at it again
that was the unvarying programme. Cataract and
sand plain succeeded cataract and sand plain with
such deadly monotony, that all sense of time, place,
and progress was blotted out. They seemed station-
ary in an endless desert, toiling against an endless
river, always moving but never advancing.
He often wondered, as he watched the brown, tur-
bid water racing down to meet him, what secret the
THE SILVER MAPLE
mysterious Nile held for him. What would be its
bearing upon his life? But he always ended his ques-
tionings with the assurance that whatever the out-
come might be, even though he should never see it,
it was controlled by a higher Power, and he was
content.
And through all the hardships and stress of the
work, the struggle with the rapids, the hunger and
privations, the new life which had been implanted
in Scotty's heart was his greatest stay. Many a
time in the face of temptation he blessed the saintly
old woman far away in the Canadian backwoods
for the godly training he had received beneath the
Silver Maple. He found he needed all his strength
in this new, wild life ; for a more gaily-gallant, reck-
less, devil-may-care crew than the Canadian voy-
ageurs, who fonght and overcame the ancient Nile,
surely never wielded paddles. His chief trial was
his own faithful follower, for Dan Murphy strove to
out-Canadian the wildest river-driver of the Ottawa
valley. And had Scotty's strong hand not been often
placed upon the unsteady tiller of his friend's life,
there might have been a sadder wreck among the Nile
voyageurs than has been set down in history. His
vigilant oversight of Dan's conduct did not prevent
him distinguishing himself in quite a unique way.
SECRET OF THE NILE
Ever since he had left Cairo that young man's one
hope in life had been to participate in a battle.
There came a day, later, when he and Scotty worked
side by side on the blood-stained rocks of the desert,
helping to remove the dead and wounded ; when they
saw their General's body lowered into its lonely grave,
and witnessed the hundred harrowing sights of a
battlefield; and then and there, much of the
boyish glamour of battle faded before the horrible
reality. But that time had not yet come ; and, like
Napoleon, Dan was convinced that war was a grand
game.
So when the reluctant enemy at last massed
itself upon the rocky ledges of Kirbekan to delay the
column, and the joyful news spread through the im-
patient army that at last they were to meet the foe,
none was so eager for the fray as Dan. In spite
of Scotty' s admonitions, he went to one of his officers
to beg permission to j oin the advance the next morn-
ing. The request was promptly refused, and the
volunteer bidden with scant ceremony to go back to
his boat and mind his own business. But Mr. Mur-
phy was convinced that his business lay with the
front rank of the advancing column. He had not
been trained to army discipline and was not minded
to lose the glorious chance of participating in a
THE SILVER MAPLE
real battle for such a trifling consideration as one
man's opinion.
So in the grey dawn of the morning, when the
troops marched out over sand and barren rock,
there went with them a man who had neither the uni-
form nor the dogged stride of the rank and file.
But he made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in mili-
tary precision; for, having appropriated the arms
and accoutrements of the first man who fell, he rushed
to the front, and was right in the van of the victori-
ous charge that swept the enemy from their rocky
stronghold.
Dan Murphy was the hero of the Canadian voy-
ageurs for the remainder of the journey. When the
six months' term for which they had signed had
expired, and he and Scotty resolved to go on to the
end, there were many who remained with the column
because the former chose to act as an independent
recruiting officer. If he was going to Khartoum,
then they would follow, for where Murphy was there
must surely be some fun.
But the end of the journey came sooner than was
expected. A little above Kirbekan General Bracken-
bury received the tragic news of the fall of Khar-
toum and the martyred Gordon's death. Just a few
days earlier, just a little more haste, and the gallant
SECRET OF THE NILE 325
heart that had looked bravely into the face of de-
spair for so many weary weeks, still patient, still hop-
ing, might have seen the answer to his prayers ! But
the succors were too late by less than a week. Gordon
was murdered, Khartoum was fallen, and at Huella
the baffled column received orders to return.
If the toil of descending the Nile was not equal
to that experienced in the ascent, the skill and vig-
ilance required of the pilots was even greater. Only
a few days' journey had been completed when the
column halted at the head of a long series of cat-
aracts. Here the Dongolese boatmen had been put
to their utmost strength to haul up the boats through
the boiling, writhing channel, and the question was,
could any boat go down it and live? General Brack-
enbury gave orders that none but the Canadians
should be entrusted with the descent; so, early in
the morning, the voyageurs walked down the stream
to survey it. They pronounced the channel bad, but
not impossible, while one old St. Lawrence pilot
sniffed contemptuously and declared that the Lachine
would make this puddle look " seek."
But the Nile cataract was bad enough, as Scotty
realised, when he found himself among the first called
to go down. Dan was his bowman and the stroke
oar was a hardy old Scotch sergeant. Upon both
326 THE SILVER MAPLE
of these he could rely with certainty. Nevertheless,
as he steered out into the middle of the river, he
realised that they had good need of all their courage
and resource. On an overhanging rock above him
stood the commander with some of his staff, anxiously
watching the experiment. The shore was lined with
soldiers, as though they had come to witness a boat-
race. Scotty had a fleeting glimpse of them as he
raced past, and then his boat was caught in the
swift current and shot forward with lightning speed.
The men bent to their oars with all the might of their
brawny arms, to give their helmsman more power,
Dan stood in the bow, alert and tense, his paddle
ready, and Scotty held the tiller in an iron grip. The
channel curved sharply to right and left; at the
quickest turns great rocks stood in mid-stream over
which the angry waters boiled and roared. At many
points an instant's hesitation on his own part, Scotty
well knew, or a second's relaxation of Dan's vigilance,
would hurl boat and crew to destruction. They were
in it now, dashing through a blinding rain of spray,
leaping, turning, dodging, twisting, as though the
boat were a living creature pursued.
Down they shot through the boiling zig-zag cur-
rent, now avoiding great, jagged rocks by a hair's-
breadth, now bounding like a deer over a smooth
SECRET OF THE NILE 327
incline, now plunging into a seething white billow;
and, when at last they swept round into the quiet
bay at the foot of the cataract, Dan leaped up, and
waving his paddle on high uttered a wild war-whoop
learned long ago in the swamps of the Oro. There
was an answering cheer from the group of men wait-
ing at the landing. "Well done, Big Scalper!"
cried the foreman.
A young naval officer who had just ridden down
from the head of the rapid turned quickly at the
words.
"What, Big Scalper, is that you?" he cried as
the pilots stepped from the boat. " How is it you're
not hanged yet ? "
Scotty glanced up and encountered a laughing
glance from the speaker's merry eyes. He recognised
the young man whom Dan had vainly tried to befool,
away back at the beginning of the voyage. He
was prevented from replying by a word from the
officer in command. As the voyageurs were few and
the boats many they had to walk back to the head of
the cataract as soon as one descent was accomplished
and prepare for another. Their commander was bid-
ding them make haste, and, when Scotty turned to
leave the landing, the young man had disappeared.
He was vaguely disappointed. There was something
328 THE SILVER MAPLE
very attractive in his good-humoured familiarity, so
different from the manner of the ordinary under
officers.
When the long day's labour was over and the
darkness prevented the descent of any more boats,
the Canadians received orders to return to the upper
camp to be in readiness for the morning's work. Dan
had been required for steering early in the day, and
had been separated from his friend, so Scotty found
himself upon the rocky path leading to the head of
the cataract quite alone.
Dan had promised to join him, but when Dan was
in the company of the voyageurs there was generally
sufficient cause for delay. Scotty walked on slowly,
glad to be alone for a few moments after the tre-
mendous toil of the day; the desert was quiet, and
acted upon his spirits as did the deep, fragrant
swamps at home.
The sun had set and the desert, which had glowed
golden in the blistering sun all day, now lay grey
and ghostly in the moonlight. Away ahead stood
the ruins of an ancient temple overgrown with dusty
mimosa bushes. The whispering Nile, brown and
gleaming in the daytime, ran swiftly past, touched
to silver by the moon that hung in the great empty
space overhead. The breeze from the north was
SECRET OF THE NILE 329
cool; the night was quiet and restful. He strolled
along easily, looking back occasionally for signs of
his comrades ; a solitary figure in the barren desert.
The toil over rocks and rapids of the last few
months, though it had hardened his physique and
left him in superb health, had played havoc with
his clothes ; and he was so disreputable and tattered
a figure, that he smiled to himself, as he pictured
Granny's distress could she have seen him.
He reached a turn in the rocky path and stopped
to listen for sounds of those who were to follow.
The breeze from the north brought faintly the music
of the old French Canadian song that had so often
enlivened alike the toil of the shantymen on the
Ottawa and the pilots on the Nile.
**En roulant, ma boule roulant,
En roulant, ma boule."
The boys were coming, then ; he seated himself upon
a rock to await them. The sound died away for a
moment, only the dry rustle of the mimosa bushes
disturbed the silence.
He seemed absolutely alone in the world, until from
a break in the rocks to his right a camel emerged
with its stately, undulating stride. It bore an officer
presumably riding down to the foot of the cataract.
330 THE SILVER MAPLE
The long, fantastic shadow moved across the grey
sand. Scotty could hear the rider's voice urging
the animal forward. As they came out into the open,
the two figures were silhouetted against the pale sky ;
a splendid mark for a prowling Dervish, he reflected.
As if in answer to his thought there came the sud-
den crack of a rifle from the direction of the ruined
temple. The figure of the rider lurched over, and,
with a leap, the animal had thrown him and was off
desertward. There was a fiendish yell from the mi-
mosa bushes. Three or four dark forms rose like
magic from their shadows, their spears glinting in the
moonlight as they leaped forward. The wounded
man lay between his assailants and Scotty, some-
what nearer the latter. As it was Scotty reached
him first. The man was lying on the sand. He had
his revolver in his hand and was striving desperately
to raise himself into a position to shoot. Scotty
dragged him into a sheltering nook between two
ledges of rock, snatched the weapon from his hand,
and crouching down sent a bullet spinning out to
meet the advancing rush. The Dervishes halted ; the
revolver spoke again ; there was a howl as a man fell.
Scotty felt a moment's inner exultation in that steady
aim he had never lost since the days he and Dan
shot chipmunks behind the schoolhouse. But the
SECRET OF THE NILE 331
yell had been answered by another farther from the
river; three more glinting spearheads suddenly ap-
peared from the dark expanse beyond, and came
hurtling towards him. He poured the remaining
chambers of his revolver into the mad charge; but,
when the last was gone, the enemy were still leaping
forward. He threw down the weapon and looked
about swiftly. The wounded man had a sword at
his side. Scotty grasped it and the same instant
the yelling savages were upon him. There was no
use trying to take cover now. He stood erect and
struck out madly. He was dimly surprised when the
first man went down before him. He swung his
weapon fiercely, with no thought of aim ; but he was
as agile as even these wild sons of the desert and
his arm had the strength of ten. It could not last
long, he knew, and he fought with the energy of
despair. There was a strange roaring in his ears, as
though he were in the midst of the cataract again,
something warm was streaming down his face and
obscuring his vision; he struck out blindly, des-
perately.
But now another sound arose, even above the roar-
ing in Scotty's head, the sound of a familiar voice;
a shout from down the river. Scotty's heart leaped ;
he uttered a strange, weird yell " Oro, Oro, woo-
332 THE SILVER MAPLE
hoo ! " It was the long, fierce battle-cry of Glenoro
school. If Dan were in Egypt that would bring him,
he knew!
" Oro ! Oro ! " came the answer ; and like a sand-
storm across the desert came the company of voya-
geurs, Dan at their head, uttering the blood-curdling
war-whoop with which he had so often awakened the
echoes of the Canadian swamps.
The fierce-eyed Soudanese who had raised his spear
to hurl at his opponent hesitated. He must have
thought that all General Brackenbury's army was
upon him. He leaped back with a sharp word of
command ; one more yell from the advancing column,
followed by the crack of a random shot decided him ;
the dark figures took to their heels, and in the magic
way known only to the desert-born, had melted in
a moment over the low hills.
Scotty's head was spinning wildly, and when Dan
flung himself upon him he sank unsteadily upon the
ground.
" Hello, Danny," he tried to say, with his usual
calmness, "just on time."
Dan clutched him by the shoulders and shook him
violently; his voice was unsteady. " Be jabers, didn't
I hear ye bleatin' like a stray lamb, half-a-mile back.
How did ye happen to have such luck, ye beggar?
SECRET OF THE NILE
Aw, ihe black-hearted brutes has give ye a bang,
Scotty, boy. Hold on to me now, old man, here,
an' we'll fix ye up in no time."
" The other fellow needs it worse," said Scotty,
making a motion towards the man at his feet. Some-
one struck a light ; the voy ageurs raised the wounded
man gently. His eyes opened.
" Are you much hurt? " asked one of the rescuers,
bending over him.
Scotty looked down at him and was conscious of
a feeling of glad surprise. It was the young naval
officer who had spoken to him that morning.
" Not much," he gasped pluckily. " It's under
my arm here. You were just in the nick of time,
Canadian."
Another match was lit to enable the men to see
the rough bandages they were trying to adjust. The
light flashed up into Scotty's face, and the wounded
man's eyes brightened.
" Why, was it you, Big Scalper? " he asked, with
a faint attempt at a smile. " The Devil's not so bad
as he's painted " He made an effort to hold out
his hand, but before Scotty could take it the young
man's head fell back and he had fainted in Dan's
arms.
The buzzing in Scotty's head grew louder, other
334 THE SILVER MAPLE
sounds became dim and far away. He was vaguely
conscious that the boys were binding up his head,
hurting him most unnecessarily in the process, and
that they were leading him away, away, through the
revolving darkness, over an interminable desert.
But the next morning saw him in the stern of his
boat ready to take the cataract once more. His
head was still bandaged and felt rather light, but
he did his day's work as usual. And before the next
evening he was at the head of the column, far down
the Nile, without knowing even the name of the man
whose life he had saved.
And that same day a young naval officer, lying
in a hospital boat asked anxiously if he might not
see the Canadian pilot, known as Big Scalper, and
was informed that the Indian of that name had gone
on at the front of the column, but that he would see
him when they disbanded at Korti.
But when the voyageurs drew up before the flag-
staff to receive the General's farewell, the young
officer lay tossing in delirium; and when next he
saw his preserver it was not in Egyptian bondage,
but in the new land of promise.
XVI
RE-VOYAGE
"For dere's no place lak our own place, don't care de far
you're goin',
Dat's what the whole worl's say in', whenever dey come here,
'Cos we got de fines' contree, an' de beeges' reever flowin',
An' le bon Dieu sen' de sunshine nearly twelve mont' ev'ry
year." WILLIAM HENRY DRUMMONTD.
> surely the Israelites, on the borders of
Canaan, felt no more joy than did the two
voyageurs when they first sighted the green
shores of Canada. As they steamed up the St. Law-
rence Dan's delight reached the dangerous stage. He
was dying for a fight, and a fight he must have, he
declared. And for this purpose he danced about
the deck, brandishing his fists, and beseeching every-
one within hearing to speak up and say that Canady
wasn't jist the flower garden of creation, barrin' ould
Ireland. Before he succeeded in getting himself into
serious trouble, Scotty wisely put the wild Irishman
down upon the deck and sat on him until the first
spasms of the home-coming ecstasy were over.
But when the boys reached the little railway station
a few miles from Glenoro, and saw Hamish's kind,
335
336 THE SILVER MAPLE
brown eyes and old Pat Murphy's red face beaming
a double welcome, there were no noisy demonstrations.
For as they drove up through the ever-changing
panorama of hill and valley, with the flash of the
river and the blue gleam of lakes peeping through
the green, Scotty had a choking lump in his throat
and even Dan was silent. For they were home
again, and Oro was vocal with the joy of returning
spring.
The pink-tinted buds were everywhere bursting into
green, the marsh marigolds lit the dark borders of
the swamp with their little golden lamps, the he-
paticas and trilliums spangled the dun-coloured car-
pet of the woods; just the same, Scotty thought,
as in the happy days when he and Isabel scampered
among them. The air was deliciously laden with the
exhilarating scents of the young green earth, the
bluebirds flashed from bough to bough of the elm
trees, and the robins, how they sang! Dan declared
the little spalpeens knew he was home, for what else
would make them bust their foolish little throats wid
shoutin' ?
His quiet mood did not last long. The Canadian
air was getting into his blood again. A sudden
whirr and flash, where a host of red-winged black-
birds arose in a cloud from the road, proved too
RE-VOYAGE 337
much for him. He leaped from the buggy, yelling
like a madman, and for the rest of the journey was
quite beyond the limits of reason. He sat in the
vehicle only on rare occasions, and spent his time
scrambling over fences, tearing into the woods and
back again, chasing squirrels and whooping like an
Indian, until his father privately questioned Scotty
as to the effect of the Egyptian sun on the brain.
Scotty sat beside Hamish, laughing helplessly at
poor old Dan's madness, and in his quieter way rev-
elling just as much in all the dear familiar sights.
He was feeling how good it was to be a son of the
north land, to live in this garden of lake and river,
forest and meadow, and see it come to life afresh
each year, and as they climbed a hill, and he stood
up in the old buggy to catch his first glimpse of
Lake Oro he realised solemnly that, though he might
be called English, Irish, Scotch, Indian, Egyptian,
what not, he was altogether and entirely and over-
whelmingly Canadian.
And at the brow of the hill came the Murphy home-
stead, with all the Murphys far and near assembled
to greet the returned wanderer. Scotty and Hamish
had intended to leave Dan at his home and hurry
away, but when the hero of the house of Murphy
was dropped into the arms of the excited crowd, they
338 THE SILVER MAPLE
found leave-taking a difficult enterprise. Irish hos-
pitality, especially when transplanted to the land of
Canadian plenty, is a compelling force.
At first Scotty's impatience to get home resisted
all invitations, and old Pat was about to reluctantly
allow them to depart, when Mrs. Murphy, who until
now had been weeping loudly on Dan's broad shoul-
der, oblivious to everything but his return, suddenly
awoke to the shameful fact that someone was about
to leave her doors without stopping to eat. She issued
no further invitation, but with her apron still to her
eyes and still exclaiming over and over in muffled
sobs, that " the darlin' had come back to his mother,"
she darted into the road; and snatching the horses'
bridle, dragged her guests through the gate and up
to the door, amid the applause of the assembled Flats.
And so they had supper in the Murphy home per-
force, and all the great deeds of their expedition had
to be recounted. Scotty told how Dan had disobeyed
orders and run away at the battle of Kirbekan ; only,
like a true Irishman, he had run to, not from the
fight. But when his friend returned the compliment
and launched into an account of the midnight skir-
mish at the ruined temple, the hero of that event arose
hastily, and declared they must be going.
There was much for Hamish both to tell and hear
RE-VOYAGE 339
on the road, so the afternoon was fading into even-
ing when at last they reached the Scotch Line. They
had taken a detour round the Glen, for Scotty did
not want to be delayed by more friends. They passed
the Weaver's clearing, and Hamish declared how
Jimmie and Kirsty were such an agreeable pair as
never was, for indeed the two lived in such a state
of connubial felicity as was a wonder to all the neigh-
bours. Scotty caught a glimpse of the little path
through the cedars, the path where he and Isabel
had walked so often in those magic days succeeding
Kirsty's wedding. And there was the boiling spring
by the roadside where they had so often played, and
the pools where they had gathered musk, and yonder
in the fence-corner they had built their first house.
And then there came a turn in the road and there
it was! His old home! It was just the same:
the old garden in front with the rose bushes turn-
ing green, and the Silver Maple putting forth its
pink buds above the roof! And there was Granny
at the door, shading her eyes with her hand; and
beside her Mary Sandy, Rory's sister-in-law, who
was now her help ; and Grandaddy, who had been
pretending to cut wood all afternoon, still holding
the axe in his hand ; yes, and even Old Farquhar, bob-
bing about as excited as any !
340 THE SILVER MAPLE
With the instinct of long custom, Scotty jumped
from the vehicle to open the gate, but his trembling
fingers refused to pull out the pin, and the next mo-
ment he had cleared the bars in one mighty spring,
leaving Hamish, helpless with laughter, to shift for
himself. Before the gate was open he had charged
up the hill like a whirlwind and caught Granny off
her feet.
And then such a time as there was with talking and
hand-shaking and laughter and tears, for even Mary
Sandy took to crying out of sympathy with her mis-
tress, and Scotty himself had some work to keep his
eyes dry.
And no one could hear a word anyone else said,
for as the long-absent one crossed the threshold, Old
Farquhar burst into loud and joyous song. And what
could do justice to the great occasion but " The
Grave of Highland Mary "? The old man's voice was
strong with excitement, and he drowned both the
noise of joyful greeting and the din of the barking
dogs as he shouted triumphantly,
" Then bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom
And bring me the tear of a *ond lover's e'e,
And I'll pour them a* doon on thy grave, Highland May-
ay-re,
For the sake o* thy Bur-urns who sae dearly loved thee!"
RE-VOYAGE 341
When the excitement had slightly subsided they
had to sit down and partake of such a supper as
had never before been set out in that house; for
Granny would not listen to such foolish nonsense
as that they had eaten at Murphy's. She sat beside
her boy, never touching her own food, but heaping
his plate, clapping him upon the back and showering
upon him all the endearing epithets she knew in a
language that is famous for them.
Big Malcolm sat close to him on the other side,
his old warlike spirit aroused, as his boy told his
story. Scotty softened the hardships for his grand-
mother's ears and said nothing of his own encounter
in the desert. He was graphically describing the
manoeuvres of the Highlanders at Kirbekan, much to
his grandfather's delectation; when, as if to give
point to his narrative, there suddenly arose from
the direction of the road a splendid roar of pipes;
and behold here came Rory driving up the lane in a
wagon, his whole family aboard; and he himself,
forgetful of his dignity as the father of the family,
standing up in the wagon and blowing up a tre-
mendous pibroch on Fiddlin' Archie's Sandy's bag-
pipes !
Scotty flung out of doors to meet him and had
scarcely time for a greeting when they sighted
342 . THE SILVER MAPLE
Weaver Jimmie and Kirstj hurrying up the path
from the bush. Then a shout from the hill behind
the barn attracted everyone's attention, and Long
Lauchie's whole household appeared trooping down
the slope ; Long Lauchie himself plodding j oyf ully
at the tail of the procession, full of bewildering
prophecies and analogies, in which there was some-
thing about Lake Simcoe's being the Red Sea, and
the Oa, Mount Pisgah.
It was well that Mary Sandy merited her mis-
tress's oft-repeated declaration that she was " jist
the smartest, tidiest girl in the Oa, indeed." The
multitude had to be fed, in accordance with the laws
of Canadian hospitality, which alter not, no matter
what the circumstances may be, and without Kirsty's
and Mary Lauchie's help even Mrs. MacDonald's
paragon might have found herself inadequate.
Big Malcolm and his wife were quite helpless with
excess of happiness. The latter moved about in a
happy daze, making ineffectual efforts to assist her
friends, picking up articles and putting them down
again in a haphazard fashion.
At last Kirsty declared that they must all clear out
and let her do some work. Yes, and Mrs. Malcolm
was to go too, for how could she be of any use with
a big gomeril like Scotty clattering after her every
RE-VOYAGE 343
step, as if he was a bairn, and mostly with Big
Malcolm and Rory's wee Callum trailing behind. It
was enough to put a body fair daft.
Thus banished, Scotty laughingly followed his
grandmother out of doors. He was well pleased, for
he was longing to get a word with her alone. He
knew that her tender eyes had long ago read his
heart's secret, and if she had any news for him she
would surely give it without asking.
There was a new stone milk-house a few yards from
the door, built since his departure; and he must
needs see it, Granny said. So she took him with her
when she went for a jug of buttermilk for the guests.
And when he had admired the place and the butter-
milk had been procured, they stood in the cool, sweet
dampness, and Granny told him how all the friends
had asked for him so often. The minister, indeed,
came up several times just to inquire if they had had
a letter, and Store Thompson's wife had said that
whenever the Captain himself came to the Glen he
always asked for him. Then she went to the farther
end of the little chamber and commenced a diligent
search for something that was not there, and, with
her back turned to him, remarked with elaborate
carelessness that the Captain's family were expected
at the Grange any day now. The Captain had been
344 THE SILVER MAPLE
away nearly all the time since he lost the election,
he had been that disappointed, poor body. They
had spent the last winter in Toronto. The wee
Isabel hadn't been jist very well all winter, Kirsty
had said, and the aunt had wanted to take her to
the seashore, but she had said that nothing but the
Oro air would do her any good, and Kirsty was ex-
pecting her some of these days.
Scotty drew a deep breath. She was coming back
then! She would be at the Grange, she might even
come to Kirsty's! And then Kirsty herself darted
in and snatched the pitcher of buttermilk from Gran-
ny's hands and disappeared as quickly. Neither of
them noticed her, for Scotty was in a rosy but hope-
less dream, and Granny was patting him lovingly
upon the arm in expression of the sympathy she dared
not speak. There was silence for a moment, the old
woman still caressing him tenderly.
" Eh, it would be the Lord would be bringing you
back to me, m'eudail bheg," she said at last. " He
would be good to Malcolm and me in our old age,
for you would jist be our Benjamin, whatever. And
has it been well with Granny's boy all this weary
time ? " she added in a whisper.
Scotty put his hands upon her shoulders and looked
long into her loving eyes.
RE-VOYAGE 345
" Granny," he whispered, " do you remember the
first day I went to school, and how I came through
the swamp alone on the way home. "
" Eh, the wee man it was ! And how would I be
forgetting, indeed, for it would be the first time you
would be leaving me ! "
" And do you remember what I found a comfort
then? The swamp was so lonely it frightened me,
and I thought it must be like the valley of the shadow
of death; so I said over the Shepherd's Psalm, be-
cause you had taught it to me and I knew it must
be good, and I wasn't afraid any more. And now
I've been away from you again, Granny, in the valley
of the shadow of death, yes, and worse than death
often, but the rod and the staff were always with
me."
The tears were running down the old wrinkled
face, happy tears, for Granny had feared often for
her boy ; not so much the temporal ills ; the arrow
that flieth by day was not to her so dangerous as
the " secret fear." But her fears had been happily
disappointed, he had had the great Keeper with him,
and one more joy was added to her deep content.
The celebration at Big Malcolm's lasted half
the night, and before it had ended Scotty found he
had yet one more draught to drink from his cup of
346 THE SILVER MAPLE
happiness. The assembly was sitting round him
breathless as he related the many incidents of his
journey, when Weaver Jimmie, who was sitting in
the doorway to allow his feet to hang in the greater
freedom of outdoors, suddenly interrupted with an
exclamation, " Losh keep us, is yon the Schoolmaster
come back? " Scotty came to the doorway with a
spring and met the outstretched hands of his friend.
Monteith had heard the boys were expected and had
journeyed all the way from Barbay, where he now
resided, to bid his pupil welcome. Scotty was speech-
less over this last greeting, for in the long warm hand-
shake of his old friend there was not the smallest hint
of a past estrangement.
XVII
THE PROMISED LAND
Love and Hope and Truth and Duty
Guide the upward striving soul,
Still evolving higher beauty
As the ages onward roll.
AGNES MAULE MACHAB.
THE next day Scotty found that he was not
yet through with his lionising. With the
morning sun up came Dan from the Flats
with the news that " the boys " were to meet at Store
Thompson's that evening, and they must both go
down and show themselves. At first Scotty was for
refusing, but his grandfather decided for him. 3ig
Malcolm, who was no better at dissembling than
his wife, suddenly remembered that he had urgent
reasons for going into, the Glen that evening and
promised that he would bring his grandson with him.
So there was nothing for Scotty to do, as Mon-
teith, who was still with him, explained, but to be a
real lion and roar properly. Granny made them an
early tea and, the schoolmaster accompanying them,
they drove off in the old buckboard.
347
348 THE SILVER MAPLE
On the way Big Malcolm regaled the two exiles
with tales of the great events that had transpired
since their absence. The most important one related
to Store Thompson's latest achievement in the philo-
logical field. This time he had routed completely
young Mike Murphy. Mike had never received any-
thing through the post office in his life, but never
a day passed but he poked his head in at the little
wicket and demanded in a loud voice, " Anythin' for
Murphy the day?" Store Thompson had endured
the youth's uncouthness with his usual serenity, but
one day Mike asked twice at the wicket. That was
once too often, and Store Thompson fell back on his
reserve forces. " Murphy ? " he queried. " Young
man, ye're jist ambeeguous like, aye, ye' re jist am-
beeguous." Mike had never inquired for letters since.
He retired in a rage, under the impression that Store
Thompson had called him some insulting name, but,
like many another brave man, overawed by the
mystery of the unknown. Ever since, Store Thomp-
son had been free from his tormentor and the young
man was known between the Oa and the Flats as
" Ambiguous Mike." Big Malcolm chuckled audibly
and jerked the lines in delight over the remembrance
of his old friend's victory.
The way seemed very short to Scotty, there was
THE PROMISED LAND 349
so much of interest to see. Soon they left the High-
lands and began to descend into the Glen, and he
found his eyes growing misty again as they dwelt
on the winding white road, the silver curves of the
river between the faint green of the hills, and the
cosy homesteads nestled in the budding orchards.
The place was so little changed in the two years
he could almost believe he had never left it. He
noticed only one radical difference. Pete Nash's
establishment had disappeared. The tavern had not
been able to withstand the united progress of com-
merce and righteousness ; Mr. Cameron's advent had
heralded its downfall, and the toot of the railway
train through Oro had sounded its death knell.
Big Malcolm had not finished dilating upon the
blessing its departure had been to the community,
when they reached the post office. A crowd stood
collected about it, eager but quiet. They hid their
concern in the true rural fashion and stood leaning
against every available support with supreme indif-
ference, shoulders high, hands in pockets, caps on
one side. Store Thompson was more ceremonious.
Before Scotty could alight, out he came with
hands outstretched in greeting. He had prepared
an elaborate speech of welcome, adorned with all the
available polysyllables in the dictionary; but, when
350 THE SILVER MAPLE
he saw Scotty's familiar face, his eyes shining with
the joy of his home-coming, and Big Malcolm, erect
and full of fire as though he had suddenly dropped
twenty years of his life, his heart got the better of
his head and he could only shake the voyageur's hand
again and again and say :
" Aye, ye're home again. Aye, ye've jist come
home, like ! "
And then out bustled Store Thompson's wife, who
was as blithe and brisk as she had been twenty years
before, and she had no difficulty in kissing Scotty
this time, though she had to stand on tip-toe to do it.
And at last the crowd flung off its lethargy and
one by one came forward in greeting. Dan had
already arrived and was resplendent amid the whole
population of the Flats ; and not the Flats only, for
such a cosmopolitan crowd had not been seen in the
Glen since the old days of the fights. There were all
the Murphys and the Caldwells and, of course, every
MacDonald from far and near. And Hash Tucker
had brought over a goodly representation of the
Tenth to do honour to his old schoolmates. Scotty
had got through only half the hand shakes when
the minister came up from the manse to welcome
the boys and tell them they had made him proud
of Canada.
THE PROMISED LAND 351
Scotty found, somewhat to the dismay of his ret-
icent soul, that Dan had been spreading abroad the
story of his gallant rescue of an English officer
against overwhelming odds, and the ovation he re-
ceived was particularly trying.
" It's a pity you couldn't have kept your long,
Irish tongue still for a day ! " he grumbled, and Dan
laughed and thumped him soundly upon the chest
for an ungrateful and stony-hearted old Scotch-
man.
The two were standing, the centre of a breathless
ring, while Dan, with true Irish fluency, described
the fight at Kirbekan, when the sound of rapidly
approaching wheels partly diverted the attention of
the audience.
"Eh, yon must be the Captain an' his family jist
gettin' home," said Store Thompson, turning away
to welcome the new arrivals. For, since the de-
parture of the tavern, Store Thompson was public
host in the Glen. Scotty heard and felt his heart
leap into his mouth. Would she be there?
The wheels were stopping. " That'll be his son
most like, the young man," he heard someone say
above the buzzing in his ears. " He's been away in
the wars."
Captain Herbert's voice came next, " No, thank
352 THE SILVER MAPLE
you, James, not to-night; we just want to water
the horses. But what's all this? You haven't
lapsed into the old warlike days in my absence, I
hope?"
And then Scotty shoved Dan aside and looked up.
Yes, there she was, and not at all pale and ill as his
heart had feared, but smiling and flushed like a wild
rose. And her eyes were looking a welcome straight
into his, over the heads of the people ; such a welcome
as not all the love of his own kin had been able to
give.
And the next instant a marvellous thing happened,
a thing that astounded all the spectators and left
them amazed and gaping. For the pale young man
at Captain Herbert's side suddenly leaped to his feet
as though he had gone mad. He gave a shout,
" Big Scalper! " and the same moment he had cleared
the carriage wheels and several people's heads and
had flung himself upon Scotty and delivered him
a blow that sent him staggering back against the
verandah. And instead of resenting such outrageous
treatment, as any right-minded descendant of the
Fighting MacDonalds should, Scotty submitted very
meekly. In a laughing, half-ashamed manner he
allowed himself to be pounded and shaken, and when
his assailant had almost wrung his hands off, even
THE PROMISED LAND 353
permitted himself to be dragged up to the carriage
wheels.
" Father ! " cried the young man, his voice high
with excitement, " it's the very fellow himself ! It's
Big Scalper ! "
At that Dan Murphy uttered a yell that made the
topmost pine on the Oro banks ring.
" It's the English spalpeen ! " he roared to the
dumbfounded crowd. " It's the cratur Scotty pulled
out o' the black divils in Agypt. Oh, hooray ! "
It seemed as if all the township of Oro joined him
in one mighty shout. Some said afterwards that
even Store Thompson cheered, though most people
believed that the excitement of the moment gave birth
to that wild rumour. But certain it is that an equally
wonderful thing happened, for at the sound of the
uproar the minister turned back from the manse gate,
and when he was made aware of the cause, he actually
waved his hat in the air and made everyone give
three more cheers.
And such a prodigious handshaking ensued that
Scotty was almost overcome. Captain Herbert acted
as if he could never let him go ; and there was Store
Thompson and the minister and half the crowd to
shake hands with again, and it seemed to Scotty that
every second man was the young Egyptian officer,
854 THE SILVER MAPLE
and he found to his amusement that even that ab-
surd Dan was greeting him as though they had not
met for years!
But he was only half -conscious of it all, only half
realised what it meant even when Miss Herbert took
both his hands in hers and whispered softly : " God
bless you, my boy." For he could see nothing but
Isabel's face and her blue eyes swimming in happy
tears, and felt only her clinging hands as she whis-
pered brokenly : " Oh, Scotty, isn't it wonderful,
wonderful?" And Scotty knew that even she did
not quite realise just how wonderful it was.
Then, amid all the expressions of good will, Big
Malcolm stepped forward and held out his hand to
Captain Herbert. It was grasped warmly and the
old man felt, with a great uplifting of his spirit, that
his last forgiveness was accomplished and his last
feud buried.
It was very late that night when the company broke
up and Scotty found himself at home once more.
Monteith had returned with him, and as he took
his leave the young man accompanied him to the
gate.
" I wanted a chance to tell you, before I go," he
said, as they paused in the moonlight, " that you
were right, after all, Ralph.' 5
THE PROMISED LAND 855
" In giving up ? " asked Scotty eagerly. " Is
it because of what you saw this afternoon?"
" No ; the reward of a right act doesn't always
come so suddenly ; but because I have learned some-
thing since you went away, something that your
grandmother taught me up there under the Silver
Maple. I know now that when a man has once real-
ised what the Great Sacrifice means he cannot choose
his own way."
And Scotty went up to his old bed in the loft and
lay listening to the branches of the Silver Maple
softly caressing the roof, unable to sleep for joy and
thankfulness.
The days that followed were very busy ones.
Scotty was often at the Grange; not altogether
because inclination turned his feet thither, but be-
cause there was much business to settle. Lieutenant
Herbert wanted to return soon to England, and he
would not leave until his new friend had received due
restitution and more. Scotty wanted nothing; the
look in Isabel's eyes was enough, but Harold would
not listen. No, he must have the Grange and all
that pertained to it, he declared ; for the Captain and
his sister had long thought of going back to England
to end their days. " So," he concluded, " when you
are through that college course, which it appears you
356 THE SILVER MAPLE
must take, you and Bluebell can settle down here to
farming ; and good luck go with you, because I don't
envy you your lot ! "
But Scotty and Isabel cared very little whether
they were envied or not. Their own happiness was
sufficient.
And so Ralph Stanwell came into his inheritance at
last, and by the right road, the road of truth and
equity, which, though it may often descend by the
way of the cross, is sure and straight and leadeth
Unto life eternal.
The day before he left to take up his studies in
the city, Scotty went down to the Grange and brought
Isabel up, ostensibly to spend the day with Kirsty,
but really because they wanted to say farewell among
their old haunts. The girl had spent the afternoon
at Big Malcolm's and as evening fell and Scotty
prepared to take her home, they went round to the
side of the house and sat for a few moments under
the Silver Maple. Lake Oro was a sea of gems
flashing between the dusky points of the fir trees.
The hilltops were flushed with rose, the valleys steeped
in purple, and the vesper sparrows filled the golden
twilight with their music.
"Scotty," said the girl softly, "I've been re-
THE PROMISED LAND 357
minded all day of the psalm Granny Malcolm taught
us here * Thou hast beset me behind and before
and hast laid Thine Hand upon me ! ' ;
And Scotty, whose mind held the vivid remem-
brance of a great temptation, to which he had almost
yielded and from which he had been saved that won-
derful night in the wilderness, added : " c Such knowl-
edge is too wonderful for me. It is high. I cannot
attain unto it.' '
And a little breeze, dancing up from the golden
bosom of Lake Oro, tossed the green canopy above
their heads and showed that every dark emerald leaf
had its silver lining.
THE END
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