CHAPTER V
NEW ELEMENTS
Some of the men on guard in the middle watch reported that they hadheard what seemed to be the sounds of music very far away in the woodsand were disturbed at the trick their ears had played upon them. ButPeter didn't tell them the truth. If listening for the notes of a pianowould keep them awake, listen they should. He slept until noon and thenwent to the house for orders.
Morning seemed to make a difference in the point of view. If the moonhad made the night lovely, the sun brought with it the promise of everygood thing. The walk through the woods to Black Rock House was a joy,very slightly alleviated by the poor condition of the trees under whichPeter passed. It was primeval forest even here, with valuable treesstunted and poor ones vastly overgrown according to nature's law whichprovides for the survival of the fittest. This was the law too, whichwas to be applied to Peter. Would he grow straight and true in thisforeign soil or gnarled and misshapen like the cedars and the maplesthat he saw? Yes. He would grow and straight ... straight.
Optimism seemed to be the order of the new day. At the house he foundthat his employer had put on a clean shirt and was freshly shaven. Thewindows of the room were opened wide to the sunlight which streamed intothe room, revealing its darkest corners. McGuire himself seemed to haveresponded to the effulgence of the sun and the balmy air which sweptacross his table. His manner was now calm, his voice more measured.
When Peter came into the room, Mr. McGuire closed the heavy doors of thesteel safe carefully and turned to greet him.
"Oh, glad to see you, Nichols," he said more cheerfully. "A quiet night,I understand."
"Yes," laughed Nichols, "except for the man who got through the guardsand smoked a cigarette on your portico."
"What!" gasped McGuire.
"Don't be alarmed, sir. It was only myself. I wanted to show Shad Wellsthe defects of his police system."
"Oh! Ah! Ha, ha, yes, of course. Very good. And you weren't shot at?"
"Oh, no, sir--though I'd given them leave to pot me if they could. But Ithink you're adequately protected now."
"Good," said McGuire. "Have a cigar. I'm glad you've come. I wanted totalk to you."
And when they had lighted their cigars, "It's about this very guard.I--I'm afraid you'll have to keep your men under cover at least in thedaytime."
"Under cover?"
"Well, you see," went on McGuire in some hesitation, "my daughter (hecalled it darter) Peggy is motoring down from New York to-day. I don'twant her, but she's coming. I couldn't stop her. She doesn't knowanything about this--er--this guarding the house. And I don't want herto know. She mustn't know. She'd ask questions. I don't want questionsasked. I'll get her away as soon as I can, but she mustn't be put intoany danger."
"I see," said Peter examining the ash of his cigar. "You don't want herto know anything about the impending attempts upon your life andproperty."
"Yes, that's it," said McGuire impatiently. "I don't want her to findout. Er--she couldn't understand. You know women, Nichols. They talk toomuch." He paused "It's--er--necessary that none of her friends in NewYork or mine should know of--er--any danger that threatens me. And ofcourse--er--any danger that threatens me would--in a way--threaten her.You see?"
"I think so."
"I've put all weapons under cover. I don't want her to see 'em. So whenshe comes--which may be at any moment--nothing must be said about themen outside and what they're there for. In the daytime they must begiven something to do about the place--trimming the lawns, pruning treesor weeding the driveway. Pay 'em what they ask, but don't let any of 'emgo away. You'll explain this to the new men. As for yourself--er--ofcourse you're my new superintendent and forester."
McGuire got up and paced the floor slowly looking at Peter out of thetail of his eye.
"I like you, Nichols. We'll get along. You've got courage andintelligence--and of course anybody can see you're a gentleman. You'llkeep on taking your meals in the house----"
"If you'd like me to go elsewhere----"
"No. I see no reason why Peggy shouldn't like you. I hope she will. Butshe's very headstrong, has been since a kid. I suppose I humor her abit--who wouldn't? I lost my oldest girl and her boy with the 'flu.' Herhusband's still in France. And Peggy's got a will of her own, Peg has,"he finished in a kind of admiring abstraction. "Got a society bee in herbonnet. Wants to go with all the swells. I'm backin' her, Nichols.She'll do it too before she's through," he finished proudly.
"I haven't a doubt of it," said Peter soberly, though very much amusedat his employer's ingenuousness. Here then, was the weak spot in thearmor of this relentless millionaire--his daughter. The older one andher child were dead. That accounted for the toys in the cabin. Peggysounded interesting'--if nothing else, for her vitality.
"I'd better see about this at once, then. If she should come----"
Peter rose and was about to leave the room when there was a sound of anautomobile horn and the sudden roar of an exhaust outside. He followedMcGuire to the window and saw a low red runabout containing a girl and amale companion emerging from the trees. A man in the road was holding uphis hands in signal for the machine to stop and had barely time to leapaside to avoid being run down. The car roared up to the portico, thebreathless man, who was Shad Wells, pursuing. Peter was glad that he hadhad the good sense not to shoot. He turned to his employer, prepared foreither anger or dismay and found that McGuire was merely grinning andchuckling softly as though to himself.
"Just like her!" he muttered, "some kid, that!"
Meanwhile Shad Wells, making a bad race of it was only halfway up thedrive, when at a signal and shout from McGuire, he stopped running,stared, spat and returned to his post.
There was a commotion downstairs, the shooting of bolts, the sounds ofvoices and presently the quick patter of feminine footsteps whichMcGuire, now completely oblivious of Peter, went to meet.
"Well, daughter!"
"Hello, Pop!"
Peter caught a glimpse of a face and straggling brown hair, quicklyengulfed in McGuire's arms.
"What on earth----" began McGuire.
"Thought we'd give you a little touch of high life, Pop. It was so hotin town. And the hotel's full of a convention of rough necks. I broughtFreddy with me and Mildred and Jack are in the other car. We thought therest might do us good."
The voice was nasal and pitched high, as though she were trying to makeherself audible in a crowd. Peter was ready to revise his estimate thather face was pretty, for to him no woman was more beautiful than her ownvoice.
"But you can't stay here, Peg," went on McGuire, "not more than overnight--with all these people. I'm very busy----"
"H-m. We'll see about that. I never saw the woods look prettier. We cameby Lakewood and Brown's Mills and--Why who----?"
As she sidled into the room she suddenly espied Peter who was stillstanding by the window.
"Who----? Why--Oh, yes, this is my new superintendent and forester. Meetmy daughter,--Mr. Nichols."
Peter bowed and expressed pleasure. Miss McGuire swept him with a quickglance that took in his flannel shirt, corduroy breeches and roughboots, nodded pertly and turned away.
Peter smiled. Like Beth Cameron this girl was very particular inchoosing her acquaintances.
"I nearly killed a guy in the driveway," she went on, "who was he, Pop?"
"Er--one of the gardeners, I've told them to keep people off the place."
"Well. I'd like to see him keep _me_ off! I suppose he'll be trying tohold up Mildred and Jack----"
She walked to the window passing close beside Peter, paying as littleattention to his presence as if he had been, an article of furniture.
"Can't you get this man to go down," she said indicating Peter, "andtell them it's all right?"
"Of course," said Peter politely. "I'll go at once. And I'd like toarrange to look over part of the estate with Wells, Mr. McGuire," headded.
"All right, Nichols," said the old man with a frown. And thensignific
antly--"But remember what I've told you. Make carefularrangements before you go."
"Yes, sir."
Peter went down the stairs, amused at his dismissal. On the veranda hefound a young man sitting on some suitcases smoking a cigarette. Thiswas Freddy, of course. He afterwards learned that his last name wasMordaunt, that he was a part of Peggy's ambitions, and that he had beeninvalided home from a camp and discharged from the military service. AsFreddy turned, Peter bowed politely and passed on. Having catalogued himby his clothing, Freddy like Peggy had turned away, smoking hiscigarette.
Peter thought that some Americans were born with bad manners, someachieved bad manners, and others had bad manners thrust upon them.Impoliteness was nothing new to him, since he had been in America. Itwas indigenous. Personally, he didn't mind what sort of people he met,but he seemed to be aware that a new element had come to Black Rockwhich was to make disquietude for Jonathan K. McGuire and difficulty forhimself. And yet too there was a modicum of safety, perhaps, in thepresence of these new arrivals, for it had been clear from hisemployer's demeanor that the terrors of the night had passed with thecoming of the day.
He commented on this to Shad Wells, who informed him that night wasalways the old man's bad time.
"Seems sort o' like he's skeered o' the dark. 'Tain't nateral. 'Fraid o'ghosts, they say," he laughed.
"Well," said Peter, "we've got our orders. And the thing he fears isn'ta ghost. It's human."
"Sure?"
"Yes. And since he's more afraid after dark he has probably had hiswarning. But we're not to take any chances."
Having given his new orders to Jesse, who was to be in charge duringtheir absence, they struck into the woods upon the other side of theCreek for the appraisal of a part of the strip known as the "UpperReserve." From an attitude of suspicion and sneering contempt Peter'scompanion had changed to one of indifference. The unfailing good humorof the new superintendent had done something to prepare the ground foran endurable relation between them. Like Beth Cameron Shad had sneeredat the word "forester." He was the average lumberman, only interested inthe cutting down of trees for the market--the commercial aspect of thebusiness--heedless of the future, indifferent to the dangers ofdeforestation. Peter tried to explain to him that forestry actuallymeans using the forest as the farmer uses his land, cutting out themature and overripe trees and giving the seedlings beneath more lightthat they may furnish the succeeding crop of timber. He knew that theman was intelligent enough, and explained as well as he could from suchstatistics as he could recall how soon the natural resources of thecountry would be exhausted under the existing indifference.
"Quite a bit of wood here, Mister--enough for my job," said Shad.
But after a while Peter began to make him understand and showed him whattrees should be marked for cutting and why. They came to a burned patchof at least a hundred acres.
"Is there any organized system for fighting these fires?" Peter asked.
"System! Well, when there's a fire we go and try to put it out----"laughed Wells.
"How do the fires start?"
"Campers--hunters mos'ly--in the deer season. Railroads sometimes--atthe upper end."
"And you keep no watch for smoke?"
"Where would we watch from?"
"Towers. They ought to be built--with telephone connection toheadquarters."
"D'ye think the old man will stand for that?"
"He ought to. It's insurance."
"Oh!"
"It looks to me, Wells," said Peter after a pause, "that a good 'crown'fire and a high gale, would turn all this country to cinders--likethis."
"It's never happened yet."
"It may happen. Then good-by to your jobs--and to Black Rock tooperhaps."
"I guess Black Rock can stand it, if the old man can."
They walked around the charred clearing and mounted a high sand dune,from which they could see over a wide stretch of country. With a highwooden platform here the whole of the Upper Reserve could be watched.They sat for a while among the sandwort and smoked, while Peterdescribed the work in the German forests that he had observed before thewar. Shad had now reached the point of listening and asking questions asthe thought was more and more borne into his mind that this newsuperintendent was not merely talking for talk's sake, but because heknew more about the woods than any man the native had ever talked with,and wanted Shad to know too. For Peter had an answer to all of hisquestions, and Shad, though envious of Peter's grammar--for he hadreached an age to appreciate it--was secretly scornful of Peter's whitehands and carefully tied black cravat.
This dune was at the end of the first day's "cruise" and Shad had risenpreparatory to returning toward Black Rock when they both heard asound,--away off to their right, borne down to them clearly on thebreeze--the voice of a girl singing.
"Beth," said Shad with a kindling eye. And then carelessly spat, toconceal his emotions.
"What on earth can she be doing in here?" asked Peter.
"Only half a mile from the road. It's the short cut from Gaskill's."
"I see," from Peter.
"Do you reckon you can find your way back alone, Nichols?" said Shad,spitting again.
Peter grinned. "I reckon I can try," he said.
Shad pointed with his long arm in the general direction of Heaven. "Thatway!" he muttered and went into the scrub oak with indecent haste.
Peter sat looking with undisguised interest at the spot where he haddisappeared, tracing him for a while through the moving foliage,listening to the crackling of the underbrush, as the sounds receded.
It was time to be turning homeward, but the hour was still inviting, thebreeze balmy, the sun not too warm, so Peter lay back among the grassesin the sand smoking a fresh cigarette. Far overhead buzzards werewheeling. They recalled those other birds of prey that he had oftenwatched, ready to swoop down along the lines of the almost defenselessRussians. Here all was so quiet. The world was a very beautiful place ifmen would only leave it so. The voice of the girl was silent now. Shadhad probably joined her. Somehow, Peter hadn't been able to think of anyrelationship, other than the cousinly one, between Shad Wells and Beth.He had only known the girl for half an hour but as Aunt Tillie Bergenhad said, her niece seemed different from the other natives that Peterhad met. Her teeth were sound and white, suggesting habits of personalcleanliness; her conversation, though careless, showed at the veryleast, a grammar school training. And Shad--well, Shad was nothing but a"Piney."
Pity--with a voice like that--she ought to have had opportunities--thisscornful little Beth. Peter closed his eyes and dozed. He expected tohave no difficulty in finding his way home, for he had a pocket compassand the road could not be far distant. He liked this place. He wouldbuild a tower here, a hundred-foot tower, of timbers, and here a manshould be stationed all day--to watch for wisps of smoke during thehunting season. Smoke ... Tower ... In a moment he snored gently.
"Halloo!" came a voice in his dream. "Halloo! Halloo!"
Peter started rubbing his eyes, aware of the smoking cigarette in thegrasses beside him.
Stupid, that! To do the very thing he had been warning Shad Wellsagainst. He smeared the smoking stub out in the sand and sat up yawningand stretching his arms.
"Halloo!" said the voice in his dream, almost at his ear. "Tryin' to setthe woods afire?"
The question had the curious dropping intonation at its end. But thepurport annoyed him.
Nothing that she could have said could have provoked him more! Behindher he saw the dark face of Shad Wells break into a grin.
"I fell asleep," said Peter, getting to his feet.
Beth laughed. "Lucky you weren't burnt to death. _Then_ how would thetrees get along?"
Peter's toe burrowed after the defunct cigarette.
"I know what I'm about," he muttered, aware of further loss of dignity.
"Oh, do you? Then which way were you thinkin' of goin' home?"
Peter glanced around, pointed vaguely, and Beth Cameron la
ughed.
"I guess you'd land in Egg Harbor, or thereabouts."
Her laugh was infectious and Peter at last echoed it.
"You's better be goin' along with us. Shad asked me to come and get you,didn't you, Shad?"
Peter glanced at the woodsman's black scowl and grinned, recalling hisdesertion and precipitate disappearance into the bushes.
"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you both," said Peter diplomatically."But I think I can find my way in."
"Not if you start for Hammonton or Absecon, you can't. I've known peopleto spend the night in the woods a quarter of a mile from home."
"I shouldn't mind that."
"But Shad would. He'd feel a great responsibility if you didn't turn upfor the ghost-hunt. Wouldn't you, Shad?"
Shad wagged his head indeterminately, and spat. "Come on," he saidsullenly, and turned, leading the way out to the northward, followed byBeth with an inviting smile. She still wore her denim overalls whichwere much too long for her and her dusty brown boots seemed like achild's. Between moments of avoiding roots and branches, Peter watchedher strong young figure as it followed their leader. Yesterday, he hadthought her small; to-day she seemed to have increased in stature--souncertain is the masculine judgment upon any aspect of a woman. But hisnotions in regard to her grace and loveliness were only confirmed. Therewas no concealing them under her absurd garments. Her flanks were longand lithe, like a boy's, but there was something feminine in the way shemoved, a combination of ease and strength made manifest, which couldonly come of well-made limbs carefully jointed. Every little while sheflashed a glance over her shoulder at him, exchanging a word, evenpolitely holding back a branch until he caught it, or else when he wasleast expecting it, letting it fly into his face. From time to time ShadWells would turn to look at them and Peter could see that he wasn't ashappy as he might have been. But Beth was very much enjoying herself.
They had emerged at last into the road and walked toward Black Rock,Beth in the center and Peter and Shad on either side.
"I've been thinkin' about what you said yesterday," said Beth to Peter.
"About----?"
"Singin' like an angel in Heaven," she said promptly aware of Shad'sbridling glance.
"Oh, well," repeated Peter, "you do--you know."
"It was very nice of you--and you a musician."
"Musician!" growled Shad. "He ain't a musician."
"Oh, yes, he is, and he says I've a voice like an angel. _You_ neversaid that, Shad Wells."
"No. Nor I won't," he snapped surlily.
Peter would have been more amused if he hadn't thought that Shad Wellswas unhappy.
He needed the man's allegiance and he had no wish to make an enemy ofhim.
"Musician!" Shad growled. "Then it was you the men heard last night."
"I found a piano in the cabin. I was trying it," said Peter. Shad saidnothing in reply but he put every shade of scorn into the way in whichhe spat into the road.
"A piano----!" Beth gasped. "Where? What cabin?"
"The playhouse--where I live," said Peter politely.
"Oh."
There was a silence on the part of both of his companions, awkwardlylong.
So Peter made an effort to relieve the tension, commenting on the newarrivals at Black Rock House.
At the mention of Peggy's name Beth showed fresh excitement.
"Miss McGuire! Here? When----?"
"This morning. Do you know her?"
"No. But I've seen her. I think she's just lovely."
"Why?"
"She wears such beautiful clothes and--and hats and veils."
Peter laughed. "And that's your definition of loveliness."
"Why, yes," she said in wonder. "Last year all the girls were copyin'her, puttin' little puffs of hair over their ears--I tried it, but itlooked funny. Is she going to be here long? Has she got a 'beau' withher? She always had. It's a wonder she doesn't run over somebody, theway she drives."
"She nearly got me this mornin'," growled Shad.
"I wish she would--if you're going to look like a meat-ax, Shad Wells."
There was no reconciling them now, and when Beth's home was reached, allthree of them went different ways. What a rogue she was! And poor ShadWells who was to have taken Peter at a gobble, seemed a very poor sortof a creature in Beth's hands.
She amused Peter greatly, but she annoyed him a little too, ruffled upthe shreds of his princely dignity, not yet entirely inured to thetrials of social regeneration. And Shad's blind adoration was merely avehicle for her amusement. It would have been very much better if shehadn't used Peter's compliment as a bait for Shad. Peter had come tothe point of liking the rough foreman even if he was a new kind of humananimal from anything in Peter's experience.
And so was Beth. A new kind of animal--something between a harrier and askylark, but wholesome and human too, a denim dryad, the spirit ofhealth, joy and beauty, a creature good to look at, in spite of her envyof the fashionable Miss Peggy McGuire with her modish hats, cerise veilsand ear puffs, her red roadsters and her beaux. Poverty sat well uponBeth and the frank blue eyes and resolute chin gave notice that whateverwas to happen to her future she was honorable and unafraid.
But if there was something very winning about her, there was somethingpathetic too. Her beauty was so unconscious of her ridiculous clothing,and yet Peter had come to think of it as a part of her, wondering indeedwhat she would look like in feminine apparel, in which he could notimagine her, for the other girls of Black Rock had not so far blessedhis vision. Aunt Tillie Bergen had told him, over his late breakfast, ofthe difficulties that she and Beth had had to keep their little placegoing and how Beth, after being laid off for the summer at the factory,had insisted upon working in the Gaskill's vineyard to help out with thehousehold. There ought to be something for Beth Cameron, better thanthis--something less difficult--more ennobling.
Thinking of these things Peter made his way back to the cabin. Nothingof a disturbing nature had happened around Black Rock House, except thearrival of the remainder of McGuire's unwelcome house party, which hadtaken to wandering aimlessly through the woods, much to the disgust ofJesse Brown, who, lost in the choice between "dudes" and desperadoes,had given up any attempt to follow Peter's careful injunctions in regardto McGuire. It was still early and the supper hour was seven, so Peterunpacked his small trunk which had arrived in his absence and then,carefully shutting door and windows, sat at the piano and played quietlyat first, a "Reverie" of Tschaikowsky, a "Berceuse" of Cesar Cui, the"Valse Triste" of Jean Sibelius and then forgetting himself--launchedforth into Chopin's C Minor Etude. His fingers were stiff for lack ofpractice and the piano was far from perfect, but in twenty minutes hehad forgotten the present, lost in memories. He had played this forAnastasie Galitzin. He saw the glint of the shaded piano lamp upon hergolden head, recalled her favorite perfume.... Silver nights upon thecastle terrace.... Golden walks through the autumn forest....
Suddenly a bell rang loudly at Peter's side, it seemed. Then while hewondered, it rang again. Of course--the telephone. He found theinstrument in the corner and put the receiver to his ear. It wasMcGuire's voice.
"That you, Nichols?" it asked in an agitated staccato.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, it's getting dark, what have you done about to-night?"
"Same as last night," said Peter smiling, "only more careful."
"Well, I want things changed," the gruff voice rose. "The whole d--nhouse is open. I can't shut it with these people here. Your men willhave to move in closer--but keep under cover. Can you arrange it?"
"Yes, I think so."
"I'll want you here--with me--you understand. You were coming tosupper?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well--er--I've told my daughter and so--would you mind putting on adress suit----? Er--if you have one--a Tuxedo will do."
"Yes, sir," said Peter. "That's all right."
"Oh--er--thanks. You'll be up soon?"
"Yes."
"Good-by."
With a grin, Peter hung up the receiver, recalling the soiled,perspiring, unquiet figure of his employer last night. But it seemed asthough McGuire were almost as much in awe of his daughter as of thedanger that threatened, for, in the McGuire household, Miss Peggy, itappeared, was paramount.
Peter's bathroom was Cedar Creek. In his robe, he ran down the duskypath for a quick plunge. Then, refreshed and invigorated, he lighted hislamp and dressed leisurely. He had come to his cravat, to which he waswont to pay more than a casual attention, when he was aware of a feelingof discomfort--of unease. In the mirror something moved, a shadow, atthe corner of the window. He waited a moment, still fingering hiscravat, and then sure that his eyes had made no mistake, turned quicklyand, revolver in hand, rushed outside. Just as he did so a man with astartled face disappeared around the corner of the cabin. Peter rushedafter him, shouting and turned the edge just in time to see his shapeleap into the bushes.
"Who goes there?" shouted Peter crisply. "Halt, or I'll fire."
But the only reply was a furious crashing in the undergrowth. Peterfired twice at the sound, then followed in, still calling.
No sound. Under the conditions a chase was hopeless, so Peter pausedlistening. And then after a few moments a more distant crackling advisedhim that his visitor had gotten well away. And so after a while hereturned to the cabin and with his weapon beside him finished hisinterrupted toilet.
But his brows were in a tangle. The mystery surrounding him seemedsuddenly to have deepened. For the face that he had seen at the windowwas that of the stranger who had stared at him so curiously--the man ofthe soft hat and dark mustache--who had seemed so startled at seeing himin the Pennsylvania Station when he was leaving New York.