Chapter XIII
UNKNOWN
Brent made many more trips from Marchton to Canada and back again, andeach time he had no good news to bring the people waiting so eagerly fora word of encouragement. Gale had disappeared as neatly as if the earthhad opened and swallowed her. The wreckage of his plane had been removedfrom the spot where he had crashed and there remained now only a fewtrees whose bark had been scraped off by the falling plane to mark thespot. He had visited every nearby farmhouse and personally inquired fornews of Gale. To all his efforts he had received the sameresult--nothing. But Brent was nothing if not dauntless. Not for nothinghad he flown thousands of miles, in sun and storm. He had gained acourage and determination scarcely to be equalled. Now he could put hisdetermination to good use. He needed it all to keep him from giving upthe search. Give up? He could not! He meant to find Gale. How or wherehe did not know, but he would find her. He had to. He had learned a lotof things since that night by the hangar when he and Gale had exchangedconfidences. He certainly could not give up now when he did not knowwhat had happened to her. Day after day he visited the French towns andfarms in the surrounding country.
"Do you think you will ever find her?" Phyllis asked him wearily on hisnext trip to Marchton.
He smiled confidently, much more confidently than he felt. "Of course.You know the saying--'There'll come a day.'"
"But it seems so hopeless now--after all this time!" Phyllis said."Sometimes I think----"
Brent smiled at her, his light quizzical smile. "You are really fond ofGale, aren't you?"
Phyllis nodded, a lump in her throat so that she could not speak.
"So am I," Brent said, his eyes on the automobiles passing in thestreet. "I won't give up until I find her."
Phyllis pressed his arm. "I hope you find her--truly I do. I know shelikes you--a lot."
Brent smiled upon her again. "You make me feel a lot better," he said."I really needed some cheering up--more than I would admit."
Soon after that he was off for Canada again. At first he went to thehotel in Quebec where he had made his headquarters. There was no mailfor him nor any word of Gale. He went down to the street and found thecar and chauffeur he had hired until his shoulder should be well enoughfor him to drive himself. He directed the man to drive north. He had nospecific destination, he proposed to merely drive through the northernroads again in the hopes of meeting someone or finding something thatwould lead to Gale.
It was late in the afternoon when they came to a small French villagewhere they stopped for the luncheon they had missed. The chauffeur hadmuch more of an appetite than Brent and while he waited for the manBrent decided to explore the little village. The streets were quaint andexpressed the simplicity and charm of the inhabitants. He turned fromthe contemplation of an old Frenchman, who was sunning himself in thedoorway of his home, to look at two girls making their way out of town.Their arms were laden with bundles and a small collie scooted ahead infront of them. But Brent had eyes merely for one of the girls. Was itpossible? He passed a dazed hand across his eyes. Could he be mistaken?
"Gale!" he called. Did he fancy that the girls hesitated for a momentand then went on? He called again but they did not turn. Starting afterthem he reached the turn in the road just in time to see the girls climbinto a farmer's wagon and the wagon start off down the road.
Brent went back to the old Frenchman and asked him if he knew the girls.In these small towns nearly everybody knew everybody else.
"It is Francois Bouchard's sister," the old man nodded. "She lives withher brother on a small farm east of the village."
"And the other girl?" Brent asked.
"I do not know, Monsieur."
That was that Brent decided. He would have no rest now until he learnedif the girl really was Gale. Certainly the likeness had beenastonishing. The girl had seemed in the height of gay spirits. But if itreally had been Gale, well and strong as this girl, wouldn't she havesent word to her parents? Tried to get back home? He rumpled his hair inperplexity and replaced his hat. He would start after them and askquestions. He might discover something. But when he returned to the innwhere he had left his chauffeur, the man was gone. For an hour Brentfumed in impatience until the man finally reappeared. To all Brent'supbraidings the man turned a deaf ear. He merely climbed into the carand sat waiting. Without further waste of time Brent climbed in besidehim and, having secured directions from the old man, set off in thedirection of Bouchard's cottage.
The car bumped along over ruts hidden by the snow and ice. The drivermight just as well not have been present for all the company he was toBrent. He uttered not one word from the time they left the village,replying to all Brent's attempts at conversation with grunts. Brent hadalways thought the French-Canadians friendly, sociable people, but thisman irked him. Soon he forgot his companion, however, forgot about theuncomfortable car in which he rode and which jolted his shoulder,causing it to pain him, and concentrated on the object of his search.
For days, weeks, he had been traveling, seeking some touch, some clue tothe whereabouts of Gale. Yet not three hours before he had seen her,apparently well and happy. There must be some explanation!
His musings were brought to a sudden halt and he was thrown so farforward as to almost bump his nose on the windshield. Brent could speakfluent French and he used it to good advantage. He poured a tirade outon the head of the driver. The man merely gestured to the trees and theend of the road to which they had come. Brent had to see that it wasimpossible for the car to go any farther.
The driver signified his intention to remain in the car by slumping downin the seat and pulling his cap over his eyes for a quiet nap.
In disgust Brent jumped out and started to tramp across the road andinto the clump of trees, stripped now of all autumnal glory and blackwith the cold of early winter. The snow lay in deep drifts in severalplaces and these Brent avoided to the best of his ability. He hoped hewas still going in the right direction. That driver was as good asnothing. He had assured Brent he had heard of Bouchard's cottage andwith his hand had gestured widely to the right. That was as well as hecould do.
The wind up here was cold and Brent buttoned his coat more tightly asbest he could, using one hand. It put new life into one, though. The airwas keen as a knife and the sky as clear as crystal water. Brentremembered the exhilaration he had experienced last night flying throughthe star-studded sky. It had been keen! But a most cruel reminder of hislast flight with Gale. Then, too, in the beginning the stars had beenclose and friendly.
Brent halted in his stride and knit his brows in perplexity. Had theplane crash occurred near here? No, he corrected himself. It had beenmuch farther south. How then, had Gale wandered way up here? He shookhis head and went on.
Ahead a thin blue column of smoke drifted up from beyond a slight risein ground. He redoubled his efforts. That must be Bouchard's cottage. Hecame to the hill and leaned momentarily against a tree to get hisbreath, looking down at the log cabin and the open clearing before him.
A girl was romping with a dog. The same girl whom he had seen in thevillage. There could be no doubt, it was Gale. The way she lifted herhead, the laugh that floated up to him when the dog in play nipped herfingers. All of them bespoke Gale. He stood there watching, for it was acharming scene. In the snow the dog and girl, when she suddenly stumbledover the former, rolled over and over.
When Gale sat up there was a glow in her cheeks and a laugh bubbled inher voice. Toto stood, legs slightly asprawl, gazing at her, his redtongue dangling from between white teeth, his eyes dancing withmischief. Francois appeared in the cabin doorway, leaning upon hisimprovised crutch. After a brief greeting to him Toto trotted back toGale and put his front paws into her lap, looking up into her face witha doggy smile.
Brent started toward them and when Gale saw him she stood up, shakingthe snow from her coat and attempting to straighten her disheveled cap.Francois had disappeared within the c
abin again and from there came thesound of Antoinette, humming at her work.
"Gale--don't you know me?" Brent asked, as soon as he was withinspeaking distance.
Gale merely stared at him. She recognized him as the strange young manwho had called after them that morning in the village--but that was all!
"Gale! I'm Brent--surely you haven't forgotten me!" he said, halflaughing. He went toward her, seeking to touch her, but she eluded him.
She ran for the protection of the cottage with Toto at her heels. Brenthad no course but to follow. He stood in the doorway and looked at theothers before him. It was a homelike, cozy, if crude room. Francois satin a chair by the fireplace. Gale stood behind his chair while in thecorner Antoinette was watching him in surprise, her sewing nowforgotten.
"How--how do you do," Brent began uncertainly. "I----"
"Enter, Monsieur," Francois invited courteously, "and be seated by thefire. The day is cold and you have come a long way?" The last of hisspeech was a question.
Brent inclined his head and took the chair opposite Francois, his eyeson Gale. In the half daylight and glow from the fire he was more certainthan ever of her identity. Yet if it were Gale, surely she would knowhim?
Without preliminary Brent spoke in French. "That girl," he nodded towardGale, "is she--your sister also, Monsieur Bouchard?"
Francois smiled faintly. "You know me, Monsieur? Yet I do not know you."
"I'm sorry, sir, I quite forgot myself. I am Brent Stockton," Brentcontinued. "You see, for weeks I have been searching Canada for a girl.We crashed in an airplane some little distance from here. I left her inthe plane and went for help, but while I was absent she disappeared.Since then I have not been able to find her. This young lady is verymuch like her--very much," he murmured again.
Francois nodded and frowned into the fire. "I was afraid we were causingsomeone a great deal of anxiety, but it could not be helped. You see Iinjured my foot the day after, and I have not been able to go to thevillage to notify the authorities. My sister knows very little aboutsuch things."
"Yes?" Brent murmured. He was waiting impatiently.
"I found Mademoiselle, here," Francois looked up at Gale and the twoexchanged smiles, though she did not understand his French words, "in awrecked airship weeks ago. She was pinioned in her seat by a fallen treebranch which I moved."
"My plane!" Brent gasped.
"As you say, Monsieur. I brought her here. She seemed unhurt, but hermind----"
Brent grasped the edge of his chair. "What was it?"
"Her memory, Monsieur, it is gone. Do you understand? We could notnotify anyone because we did not know who she was. She has remained hereever since."
Brent sat stunned. It was hard for him to grasp the fact. No wonder Galehadn't recognized him! His glance wandered to the girl. She was standingslim and straight behind Francois. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, herskin creamy, she was as he had seen her last except for a slight shadowin the depth of her eyes.
"She seems all right," he said finally.
"Yes, Monsieur," Francois said. "She is in perfect health except for--itis sad."
"She must go back with me," Brent said finally. "Her parents arefrantic--her friends--we will have the best doctors in the land."
"Time and peace will heal her," Francois said. "I studied medicine,Monsieur, I know."
Brent stood up. "I have no words with which to thank you, sir. It is adebt which can never be repaid. If it had not been for you----"
"It is nothing," Francois said, with difficulty rising and holding outhis hand to Brent. "We have loved her as a sister, Monsieur."
Brent silently wrung the Frenchman's hand and felt he must burst withgratitude. To think at last he had found Gale! He took a step toward herand she backed away. She seemed curiously afraid of him.
"Gale," and now Francois spoke in English, "this young man has come totake you back to your parents and friends."
"He knows----" Gale started in a whisper.
Francois nodded. "He knows you. He has come to take you back to thosewho love you."
"I must leave?" Gale wanted to know. She glanced first at Francois, atAntoinette and then down at Toto.
"Yes," Francois said sadly.
"Come, Gale," Brent said gently, holding out his hand.
But Gale did not put hers into it. Instead she backed away into acorner, Toto moving instinctively with her. Brent moved towards her,talking slowly, gently, but she was terrified. Why, he could notunderstand.
Toto, puppy that he was, seemed to know his friend's fear and bared histeeth savagely at Brent.
Brent stopped, torn between conflicting emotions, and looked helplesslyat Francois.
Antoinette ran to Gale and took the trembling girl in her arms.
"Gale, ma cherie, you must go back to those who love you. They arelonely without you."
But Gale shook her head determinedly. She didn't want to go off withthis strange young man, nice as he seemed, and nothing they said couldchange her mind. For an hour Brent, Francois and Antoinette urged,coaxed, and pleaded with her. But Gale held Toto in her arms and refusedto budge from her corner. Finally they gave up in despair and shewatched with frightened eyes while Brent conversed with Francois. Everytime they glanced at her her heart almost stopped. She was so afraid shewould have to leave these people who had been kind to her, whounderstood her, to go to strangers.
At last Brent moved to the door. On the threshold he turned to look ather and the picture he carried away was of a frightened girl clutchingher beloved dog in her arms as her sole means of comfort.