CHAPTER XIV
A PAIR OF SOCKS
A week later Connie was roused from his desk in the little office by thesound of bells. There was a loud "Whoa!" and Frenchy, wearing his longstocking cap of brilliant red yarn, and clad in his gayest mackinaw,pulled up his four-horse tote-team with a flourish before the door, andstepped smiling from the sleigh.
"W'at you t'ink, now, _m's'u l'infant_? S'pose I'm trade ma gran' teamfor de beeg fat log hoss, de cook she don' git no supply for wan week.Den, mebbe-so you got to eat porkypine an' spruce tea. Me--I'm backto-mor' night, wit ma gran' tote-team, _bien!_"
Connie laughed. "I guess you've got the right team for the job, Frenchy.But it seems to me you picked out a bad day for the trail." It hadturned suddenly warm during the night, and the boy indicated a shallowpool of muddy water that had collected in the depression before thedoor.
"De snow she melt fas' w'ere she all tromp down an' dirty, but on detote road w'ere she w'ite an' clean she ain' melt so fas'." He pausedand cocked an eye skyward. "I'm git to Dogfish before she melt an'tonight she gon' for turn col', an' tomor', ba goss, I'm com' back on deice, lak de log road."
"WHAT'S THIS?" ASKED THE BOY, PUSHING UP A SMALL BUNDLE.]
"What's this?" asked the boy, picking up a small bundle done up in brownwrapping paper that lay upon the seat of the sleigh.
"Oh, dat wan pair wool sock Slue Foot sen' down to Corky Dyer for ke'phe's feet wa'm. I'm mak' dat go on de, w'at you call, de express."
Connie picked up the package and regarded it with apparent unconcern."Who's Corky Dyer?" he asked, casually.
"Corky Dyer, she ke'p de s'loon down to Brainard. She frien' for SlueFoot, lak wan brudder."
As Frenchy's glance strayed to Steve, who came hurrying toward them withhis list of supplies from the cook's camp, Connie's foot suddenlyslipped, the package dropped from his hand squarely into the middle ofthe puddle of dirty water, and the next instant the boy came heavilydown upon it with his knee.
"O-o-o-o!" wailed the excitable Frenchman, dancing up and down. "Now I'mketch, w'at you call, de t'undaire! Slue Foot, she git mad on me now, bagoss! She say, 'You mak' dat leetle package los' I'm bre'k you in two!'"
Connie recovered the package, from which the wet paper was bursting in adozen places. He glanced at it ruefully for a moment, and then, as ifstruck with a happy thought, he grinned. "We'll fix that all right," hesaid reassuringly, and turned toward the door.
"_Non_," protested Frenchy, dolefully, "dat ain' no good, to put on denew _papier_. De sock she got wet, an' de new _papier_ she bus', too."
"You just hold your horses----"
"I ain't got for hol' dem hosses. Dey broke to stan' so long I want'em."
"Come on in the office, then," laughed the boy, "and I'll show you howwe'll fix it." Frenchy followed him in, and Connie opened the wanaganchest. "We'll just make a new package, socks and all, and I'll copy theaddress off on it, and Corky Dyer's feet will keep warm this winter justthe same."
"_Oui! Oui!_" approved the Frenchman, his face once more all smiles. Hepatted the boy admiringly upon the back. "You got de gran' head on youfor t'ink."
"You don't need to say anything about this to Slue Foot," cautioned theboy.
The Frenchman laughed. "Ha! Ha! You t'ink I'm gon' hont de trouble? SlueFoot she git mad jes' de sam'. She lak for chance to growl. I tell him'bout dat, I'm t'ink he bus' me in two."
It was but the work of a few minutes to duplicate the small bundle, andthe teamster took it from the boy's hand with a sigh of relief. "Solong!" he called gaily, as he climbed into the sleigh and gathered uphis reins with an air. "Som' tam' you lak you git de fas' ride, you com'long wit' me." His long whip cracked, and the impatient tote-team sprangout onto the trail.
Footsteps sounded outside the door, and Connie hurriedly thrust thepackage into his turkey. Saginaw entered, and, with a vast assumption ofcarelessness, walked to the wall and took down his rifle. "Guess Imight's well take a siyou out into the brush an' see what fer meat theyis stirrin'."
"Want a partner?"
"Sure," answered the man, "I wish't you could go 'long, but I don'tguess you better. The log roads is softenin' up, an' I give orders tokeep the teams offen 'em. They ain't nothin'll sp'ile a log road liketeamin' on 'em soft. The teamsters won't have nothin' to do, an' they'llbe hornin' in on ye all day, to git stuff out of the wanagan. Hurley an'Lon's both up to Camp Two, so I guess yer elected to stick on the job."
"That's so," answered the boy, "but, I bet the real reason you don'twant me is because you're afraid I'd kill more game than you do."
"Well, ye might, at that," laughed Saginaw. "But we'll have plenty ofchances to try out that part of it. I'm gittin' old, but I ain't so oldbut what I kin see the sights of a rifle yet." He drew the rackets fromunder his bunk and passed out, and as Connie watched him swing acrossthe clearing, he grinned:
"You're hiking out to see if you can't hang a little evidence up againstMike Gillum, and that's why you didn't want me along. Go to it, oldhand, but unless I miss my guess when you come in tonight you'll findout that your game has turned into crow."
Saginaw had prophesied rightly. The wanagan did a land-office businessamong the idle teamsters, and at no time during the day did Connie dareto open the package that lay concealed in his turkey. Darkness came, andthe boy lighted the lamp. The teamsters continued to straggle in andout, and, just as the boy was about to lock the office and go to supper,Saginaw returned.
"What luck?" inquired Connie.
"Never got a decent shot all day," replied the man, as he put away hisrifle and snow-shoes. "I got somethin' to tell you, though, when we'veet supper. Chances is, Hurley an' Lon'll be late if they ain't back bynow. We kin powwow in the office onless they come, an' if they do, wekin mosey out an' hunt us up a log."
Supper over, the two returned to the office and seated themselves besidethe stove. Saginaw filled his pipe and blew a great cloud of blue smoketoward the ceiling. "I swung 'round by Willer River," he imparted, aftera few shorter puffs. Connie waited for him to proceed. "Ye mind, the oldman said how it was a Frenchy that got him to help cut up that deer?Well, they's a raft of French workin' up there fer the Syndicate."
"Any of 'em been deer hunting lately?" asked the boy, innocently.
"Gosh sakes! How'd ye s'pose I kin tell? If I'd asked 'em they'd allsaid 'no.' I jes' wanted to see if they was Frenchmens there."
Connie nodded. "That looks bad," he admitted.
"Yes, an' what's comin' looks worst. On the way back, I swung 'round bythe old Irishman's. He hadn't heard nothin' more from this here MikeGillum, so he went up ag'in yesterday to see him. Gillum claimed hehadn't found out nothin', an' then the old man told him how he wasbroke an' needed grub to winter through on. Well, Gillum up an' dug downin his pocket an' loant him a hundred dollars!"
"Good for Mike Gillum!" exclaimed Connie. "That's what I call a man!"
"What d'ye mean--call a man?" cried Saginaw, disgustedly. "Look a-here,you don't s'pose fer a minute that if Gillum hadn't of got the old man'spile he'd of loant him no hundred dollars, do ye? How's he ever goin' topay it back? Gillum knows, an' everyone knows that's got any sense, thatwhat huntin' an' fishin' an' trappin' that old man kin do ain't onlygoin' to make him a livin', at the best. He ain't never goin' to gitenough ahead to pay back no hundred dollars."
"So much the more credit to Gillum, then. What he did was to dig downand give him a hundred."
"Give him a hundred! An' well he could afford to, seein' how he kep'thirty-four hundred fer himself. Don't you think fer a minute, kid, thatany one that's low-down enough to blackguard a man like Hurley wouldgive away a hundred dollars--he'd see a man starve first. It's plain asthe nose on yer face. We've got a clear case, an' I'm a-goin' to gitout a search warrant ag'in' him, 'fore he gits a chanct to send thatmoney out of the woods. He's got it, an' I know it!"
Connie smiled broadly. "He must have got it while we were at supper,then."
Saginaw regarded him curiously.
"What d'ye mean--supper?" he asked.
For answer the boy crossed to his bunk, and, reaching into his turkey,drew out the soggy package. "Do you know who Corky Dyer is?" he asked,with seeming irrelevance.
"Sure, I know who Corky Dyer is--an' no good of him, neither. He livesin Brainard, an' many's the lumberjack that's the worse off fer knowin'him. But, what's Corky Dyer got to do with Mike Gillum an' the old man'smoney?"
"Nothing, with Mike Gillum. I was only thinking I hope Corky can keephis feet warm this winter, I sent him down a nice pair of wool sockstoday."
Saginaw bent closer, and stared at the boy intently. "Be ye feelin' allright, son?" he asked, with genuine concern.
"Sure, I feel fine. As I was going on to say, Slue Foot felt sorry forCorky Dyer's feet, so he picked out a pair of nice warm socks----"
"Thought ye said----"
The boy ignored the interruption, "and gave them to Frenchy to send toCorky by express. When Frenchy stopped here for his list I happened topick up the package and while I was looking at it my foot slipped and Idropped it in a mud puddle and then fell on it. I hated to think of poorCorky wearing those dirty wet socks, and I didn't want Frenchy to get anawful bawling out from Slue Foot for not taking care of his package, soI just took a new pair out of the wanagan and sent them to him. I guess,now, we'd better open this package and wring these wet ones out, orthey'll spoil."
Saginaw continued to stare as the boy drew his knife and cut the cord.Then he exploded angrily: "What in thunder d'ye s'pose I care aboutCorky Dyer's socks? An' what's his socks got to do with gittin' oldDenny O'Sullivan's money back fer him? I thought ye was a better sportthan that--Ye see yer fine friend's got cornered, an' right away yeswitch off an' begin talkin' about Slue Foot, an' Frenchy, an' CorkyDyer's wet socks! Fer my part, Corky Dyer's feet could git wet an'froze fer six foot above 'em--an' it would be a good thing fer thetimber country, at that!"
As Saginaw raved on, Connie unrolled the grey woollen socks and smoothedthem out upon his knee. Saginaw watched, scowling disapproval as hetalked. "They's somethin' in one of 'em," he said with sudden interest."What's it got in it?"
Connie regarded him gravely. "I don't know, for sure--I haven't looked,but I think maybe it's Denny O'Sullivan's missing bills."
Saginaw Ed's jaw dropped, and his hands gripped the chair arms till theknuckles whitened, as the boy thrust his hand into the damp sock. "Yes,that's what it is, all right," he said, as he drew forth the missingbills. "They're not quite as new and clean, maybe, as they were, butthey're the ones--see the little notches in the corners, just like themarks on his traps."
Saginaw stared in silence while the boy finished counting: "--five, six,seven." Then, as full realization dawned upon him, he burst forth, andthe roars of his laughter filled the little log office. "Well, dog mycats!" he howled, when at length he found his voice. "'My footslipped,' says he, 'an' I dropped it in a mud puddle an' fell on it!'"He reached over and pounded the boy on the back with a huge hand. "Youdoggone little cuss! Here you set all the time, with the missin' billstucked away safe an' sound in yer turkey--an' me trompin' my legs offtryin' to find out what's became of 'em!" He thrust out his hand. "Yesure outguessed me, kid, an' I don't begrudge it. When it comes toheadwork, yer the captain--with a capital K. An' believe me! I'd give ahull lot to be where I could see Corky Dyer's face when he unwrops thatpackage of socks!"
Connie laughed. "So you see," he said, as he shook the extended hand,"we've got a clear case, all right--but not against Mike Gillum."