King Spruce, A Novel

by Holman Day

  CHAPTER X

  "LADDER" LANE'S SOIREE

  "And down from off the mountains in the shooting sheets of flame The devils of Katahdin come to play their reg'lar game. So 'tis: men hold tight! Pray for mornin' light! Katahdin's caves are empty and hell's broke loose to-night!"

  --Ha'nt of Pamola.

  As the hours of the day went on, Colin MacLeod, caged, helpless, sethigh on the bald brow of old Jerusalem, where every phase of the greatfire was spread before his eyes, found abundant opportunity to cursehimself for a fool. In time, of course, Attean or some other point wouldrealize the extent of the conflagration and call for help. But now,hidden under Jerusalem and confined to the slash under the green trees,it was a racing ground-fire that crouched and ran. It came rapidly, butin a measure secretly. It showed a subtility of selection. It did notwaste time on the green forest of beeches and maples. It was hurryingnorth towards its traditional prey. That prey was waiting for it, rootedon the slopes of Jerusalem and the Umcolcus, on the Attean and theEnchanted--the towering black growth of hemlock, pine, and spruce--theapple of Pulaski Britt's commercial eye--the hope of his associates.Once there, it would spring from its crouching race on the ground. Itwould climb the resinous trunks and torch and flare and rage and roarin the tinder-tops--a dreaded "crown-fire" that only the exhaustion offuel or the rains of God would stop.

  Attean would see that fire leaping past Jerusalem, and would swear andwonder and report too late.

  Just now hours were as precious as days.

  Men could do nothing at mid-day with the wind lashing behind. MacLeodknew well how that fire should be fought. But with men on the way readyto flank it at nightfall and work ahead of it with pick and shovel andbeating branches of green--the winds stilled and the dews condensing--itcould be conquered--it must be conquered then, if at all.

  Woods fires sleep at night. The men who fight them may as well sleep atmid-day.

  With the dropping of the sun and the sinking of the winds the firesdrowse and flicker and smoulder. Then must one attack the monster; forat daybreak he is up, ravening and roaring and hungry.

  And now--not even Britt's own crew of loggers at the foot of Jerusalemhad word and warning. MacLeod bellowed appeals to be let out. Hebesought Lane to hurry down the mountain to camp. He howled frightfuloaths and threats and abject promises.

  At dusk the old man came out of his cabin, and brought bread and waterand bacon to his captive without a word. He fed him with as muchunconcern as he brought browse to the tethered bull moose anddistributed provender suited to the various tastes of his menagerie.

  The darkness settled in the valleys first, and one by one fire-dottingspricked out--blazing junipers and the stunted new growth of evergreen.From Jerusalem the great expanse seemed like a mighty city, its windowsalight, its streets and avenues illuminated gloriously.

  MacLeod, silenced except for an occasional hoarse quack of appeal, pacedhis little cage, despairing.

  "Ladder" Lane sat on the flat roof silent as a spectre. So the hoursdragged past.

  "I thought so!" grunted the old man at last. "That's what I've beensitting up for."

  From his eyry he saw a light flickering in the stunted growth far downJerusalem, zigzagging nearer. At last it emerged and came across theledges--a flare of hissing birch bark stuck into a cleft stick. Therewere several men hastening along in the circle of its radiance. Lanecould hear from afar their gruntings of exhaustion.

  "If I ain't mistook, it's your friend Britt," remarked the old man,maliciously, as he passed MacLeod's cage on his way to meet thevisitors.

  And it was Britt--Britt with his hat in his hand, perspiration streaminginto his beard, his stertorous breath rumbling in his throat. Lane knewthe man who bore the torch as Bennett Rodliff, high sheriff of thecounty.

  "It's been--God!--awful work--but we've--come round the east--edge ofit, Lane," panted Britt. Commanding general in the grim conflict, he hadbeen willing to burst his heart in order to establish headquarters inthe one spot from which he could mobilize his forces and direct theirtactics. "How many men have you ordered in, Lane?"

  "Not a man!"

  "Not a--not a--you stand there and tell me you haven't reported andcalled for every man that Attean and Squaw can reach!" He began to curseshrilly.

  "You'd better save your wire edge, Mr. Britt," counselled Lane. "You'regoing to need it. Come here till I show you something."

  One of the sheriff's men lighted a fresh sheet of bark at the dyingflare of the other, and Lane led the way to the cage, where MacLeodpeered desperately between the saplings.

  "Just a moment, Mr. Britt!" broke in the warden, again checking thelumber baron's fury. "This man came up here to-day with what he saidwere your orders not to report that fire, and--"

  "That fire!" roared Britt, fairly beside himself. "Why, you devilish,infernal--"

  "A moment, I say! When I set up my heliograph he kicked it off the roof.There it lies just as it fell. You and he can settle your part of it! Asfor my part of it, I have arrested him by my authority as a fire warden.The sheriff, here, can take him whenever he gives me a receipt and makesnote of my complaint."

  "I did what you told me to, Mr. Britt," protested MacLeod, his voicebreaking. "He was reportin' the first puff of smoke, and said that youand your orders could go to thunder. He didn't pay any attention--and Ijust did what you told me to. I--"

  "Shut up!" The Honorable Pulaski, crimson with anger, fearful of his ownpart in this conspiracy, and shamed by the exposure of his methods,bellowed his order. "We'll settle this later. Knock away those saplings,some one. MacLeod, get down this mountain, even if you break your neckdoing it, and get your crew to the front of that fire! I--I--haven't gotbreath to talk to you the way you need to be talked to. As you stand,you're only half a man on account of a girl." He darted a quiveringfinger at the disabled arm.

  "And it's your other little d--n fool of a girl at Misery that torchedthat fire when she heard that you'd jilted her. Now, is it women orwoods after this?"

  "Woods, Mr. Britt!" stammered the boss, eager to conciliate this ragingbull.

  "Then get to the front of that fire and stop it, even if you have to liedown and roll over on it. It's a fire your pauper sweetheart started,and you've arranged, by your infernal bull-headedness, to let it burn.Stop it or keep going! It won't be healthy in my neighborhood."

  "I'll stop it or die tryin', Mr. Britt."

  Lane leaned his back against the cage and faced the group, his gauntarms reaching from side to side.

  "You can't free a prisoner that way, Mr. Britt," he said, firmly. "Youtake this man away from me--or if the high sheriff, here, lets himgo--I'll report the thing under oath to the governor and the people ofthis State; and I reckon you can't afford to have that done. I proposeto have it known why Linus Lane didn't do his duty in reporting thatfire."

  "Take that old fool away from there and let that man out," commandedBritt, his passion blind to consequences. He could see no way out of hismuddle. He seemed to be in for wicked notoriety, anyway. Just now hisone thought was to get "Roaring Cole MacLeod," master of men, at thehead of that fire, to hold it in leash until more assistance came. Heknew his man. He understood that MacLeod, bitter in the consciousness ofhis blunder, was now worth six men. "Rodliff, I'll take theconsequences!" he shouted. "Let my boss out."

  But the high sheriff seemed to be doubtful as to the consequences thathe also would have to accept. Just then he had clearer notions ofofficial responsibility than did the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt.

  "This man is under arrest all regular," protested Rodliff, "and I'vejust the same as heard him own up that he interfered with Warden Lane inhis duty. The governor himself wouldn't have the right to order me tolet a prisoner go before a hearing on the case. That's law, Mr. Britt,and--"

  "Talk that south of Castonia," broke in the Honorable Pulaski. "Just nowlaw won't put that fire out and save a fifty-thousand-acre stand ofblack growth. Lane, you've got to be reaso
nable. There've beenmistakes, but they'll be made good. You can't afford to be bull-headedin this thing."

  But the old man did not move from the cage. The flaring of the torchlighted his solemn and unrelenting face. The worried face of MacLeodpeered out over one of the extended arms.

  "What--what was it happened to 'em on Misery, Mr. Britt?" he asked,humbly.

  "I told you!" snapped Britt, glad of a momentary excuse to coverembarrassment of this general defiance of his dignity. "Your black-eyedbeauty there, that you've been fooling with when my back's beenturned, is jealous of Rod Ide's girl, and took to the bush with ablueberry-torch dragging at her heels to show her feelings. I'd haveshot her like I would a rabbit if it hadn't been for your particularfriend Wade." The wrathful sneer of the Honorable Pulaski was a snarlthat would have done credit to "Ladder" Lane's bobcat. "When you come tosettle accounts with that critter, MacLeod, break his leg, and charge iton my side of the ledger."

  "So he was there, hey?" asked the boss, eagerly.

  "He was there long enough to hit me like a prize-fighter when I wasprotecting my property."

  "Why didn't you kill him?" demanded the boss, with venom.

  "By the time I got a gun he was out of sight at the tail of the fire,chasing the girl--he and old Chris Straight. I believe they wereproposing to rescue the girl," concluded Britt, with a mirthlesschuckle. "The only consolation I'm getting out of that fire down thereis that maybe it's burning that Wade and the girl, whatever they callher, and will chase the Skeets and Bushees south and catch them, too. Ifit does I'll be willing to let a thousand more acres burn."

  But it appeared that the choicest section of the Honorable Pulaski'scharitable hopes was doomed to disappointment.

  A torch, tossing from the edge of the stunted growth, marked theapproach of some one.

  "The top of Jerusalem seems liable to be a popular roosting-place forall them that ain't wearing asbestos pants," remarked the high sheriff,dryly. "A rush of excursionists during the heated spell, as thesummer-boarder ads say! Lane, can you give the crowd anything to eat atyour tavern except broiled moose and fricasseed bobcat?"

  The pleasantry evoked no smile. For the little group at the cabin,Pulaski Britt first of all, with his keener eyes of hate, recognizedthose who were approaching.

  Old Christopher Straight came ahead with the torch. The girl of MiseryGore, moving more slowly now that she saw the group at the top ofJerusalem, her face sullen, her head cocked defiantly, was at his back,and Dwight Wade was at her side. Far behind, at the edge of the torch'sradiance, slouched a huge figure of a man. It was foolish Abe, thehirsute giant of the Skeets.

  "And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law," snarled thelumber baron, "and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodliff, get outyour handcuffs for something that's worth while. It's three years instate-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It's a longvacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation.There's the girl who set that fire; there's the man that struck me. Soyou see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company."

  Lane came suddenly away from the cage. The torch showed his face workingwith strange emotion.

  "Mr. Britt," he said, appealingly, to the astonishment of the senator,who understood this sour woods cynic's nature, "there are crimes thatain't crimes in this world--not even when they're judged by God's ownscale. There's your fire yonder! Some one is responsible for it--but notthat poor girl!"

  "I saw her set it myself, you devilish idiot!"

  "Not that poor girl, I say. Those that threw her--her, with the pride ofgood blood that she felt but didn't understand--her, with her hopes andbrains that her blood gave her--"

  "Blood!" roared the Honorable Pulaski. "What do you know about herpedigree?"

  "Those that threw her into that pen of swine are responsible," went onthe warden. "Men like you, that have persecuted her and wonder why shedoesn't squeal like the rest of those idiots; men like the whelp in thatcage, trying to wrong her and throw her back into hell--all of you areresponsible for that fire. You bent the limb. It has snapped back andstruck you in your faces. It's the way of the woods."

  "Well, of all the infernal nonsense I ever listened to, this sermon onMount Jerusalem clears the skidway," blurted Britt. "You stand up at thetrial and repeat that, Lane, and you'll get your picture into thenewspapers."

  "And I guess a lot of the rest of us will before this scrape getsstraightened out," muttered the high sheriff, bodingly.

  "Mr. Britt, you're going to be sorry for it if you drag that poor abusedgirl to prison," said Lane, with such fire of conviction that the timberbaron, cautious in his methods, and always fearing the notoriety thatwould embroil the great secrets of the timber interests with publicopinion, blinked at the oracular old warden and then at the stilldefiant face of the girl. Like most untrained natures in whom passionhas unleashed natural high spirit, she seemed incapable of calmreconsideration. She had made such protest against the enormity of herpersecution as opportunity had put into her heart as right and into herhands as feasible.

  "We were fools to bring her here and toss her into the old hyena'sclaws," muttered Wade in Christopher's ear. "We might have known that heand his crowd would make for Jerusalem."

  "I did know it," returned the old guide, quietly. "And I knew just aswell what would happen to us in the runway of that fire to-morrow."

  "Lane," broke in the Honorable Pulaski, with decision, "two trials won'tstir this thing any worse than one. You've arranged for one. Go aheadwith MacLeod. I'll have the girl."

  Those who looked on Lane's face only knew that mighty passions wereshaking him. His voice broke and quavered.

  "Mr. Britt, things have been mixed for me in this world till I don'thardly know what is right. I've tried to do my duty as it's been laidout for me. But in climbing up to it there's some things I haven't gotthe heart to step on. Perhaps in this thing we're mixed in now we've allbeen more or less wrong. I don't know. I haven't got the head to-nightto figure it out. Perhaps it's best that what has happened on Jerusalemto-day don't get out. I don't know as that's right. But I'll say this:give me the girl; you can take MacLeod."

  The Honorable Pulaski hesitated, "hemmed" hoarsely in his throat,clutched at his beard, looked significantly at the high sheriff, andthen called him apart by a nod of his head.

  When he returned to the group he said, crisply: "It's a trade! Under thecircumstances, I don't suppose even such a little tin god as you willhave anything to say about it outside," he sneered, running his red eyeover Dwight Wade. The young man did not reply, but his face gaveassent.

  Lane pried away the saplings, and MacLeod stepped out.

  "Give him a camp lantern," commanded Britt. "Get your men into that fireat daylight."

  "Tell me that they've all been lying about you, Colin," cried the girl,her cheeks crimson, her heart going out to him at sight of his face,"and I'll go with you! I'll work with you! I'm sorry for it if it's madeyou mad with me." All her sullen anger was gone. She leaned towards himas though she yearned to abase herself.

  With Britt's flaming eyes on him, MacLeod only moved his lips withoutwords.

  "Ladder" Lane came out of the cabin with two lanterns. A set oflineman's climbers jangled dully at his belt.

  "No, you'll not go, girl!" he cried, brusquely.

  With hands on her hips, she threw back her head, her nostrils dilating.

  "I've paid a big price for you this night," he went on, more gently,"and it isn't to a cur of that kind that I'll be giving you. MacLeod,here's your lantern! Away, now!"

  "And I'll go, I say, if you'll tell me they've lied. Colin, darling,tell me!" But he started away, spurred by a ripping oath from theHonorable Pulaski. She tore herself from the restraining grasp of Wadeand ran after her lover.

  At her movement, Abe, cowering in the gloom away from the torch-lightedarea of ledge, started behind her with canine loyalty. He had followedher into the fire zone when his mother had screamed command into hisear. His mo
ther and this girl, her protegee, were the only ones who everlooked at him without disgust.

  "Abe!" shouted "Ladder" Lane. He spoke in a peculiar tone--a tone inwhich the fool evidently recognized something of an old-time authority;for he uttered a little bleat, in curious contrast with his giant bulk,and halted. "Fire, Abe!" cried Lane, brandishing his arm in thedirection of the distant flamings. "Mother want her saved from fire.Fetch, Abe!"

  It was a tone of authority that the witling recognized, and it commandedhis weak will and giant strength. He sped after the girl, seized her inspite of her furious protest, and bore her back to the cabin, herstruggles exciting only his amiable grins.

  Lane rushed him and his burden into his hut.

  "Now, Abe, mother say watch her. No go into the fire! Watch till Icome!" He came out with placid confidence that his order would beobeyed, and the mien of the giant gave excellent confirmation.

  "Men," he said, grimly, looking round on their faces, "I'd rather trustthat girl to the fool than to all of the rest of humankind; but I've hadreasons in my life to distrust men, and the higher the men the more Idistrust them. Don't any of you interfere in that duet in there. There'sonly one thing that I ask you to do here till I come back--whoever stayshere--feed the animals. You can't corrupt them." He was "Ladder" Laneonce more, sour in his satire.

  "Where are you going, Lane?" demanded Britt.

  The old man shook a telephone cut-in sender at him.

  "I'm going through the woods ahead of that fire to tap the Attean lineand send my report and call for men," he said, calmly. "I'm still thefire warden of Jerusalem region."

  He set away, striding over the ledges, his lantern winking between histhin legs.

  "Looks like a cross between a lightning-bug and a grampy-long-shanks,"observed the sheriff, his cheerfulness increased by the happy disposalof his troublesome prisoners. "Travelling on underpinning like that,he'll have his word in before daybreak."

  But Pulaski Britt had not yet satisfied the curiosity that stirred assoon as greater matters had been settled. He ran after the warden,shouting an order to wait.

  The little group heard the colloquy, for Lane did not stop, and theHonorable Pulaski had to bellow his question.

  "Say, Lane, in case anything should happen to you! Ain't you going tolet me do the square thing? If this girl is yours, say the word. I'lllook after her. Is she yours?"

  "No!" yelled the old man, with a fury in his tones like the rasp of afile on their flesh as they listened. And the next words seemed to be acry wrung from him without his will: "If she were, I'd have killed youand Colin MacLeod before this!"

  He went flitting down the slope of Jerusalem like a will-o'-the-wisp,and they stood in silence and watched him out of sight.

  That night the tenantry of Jerusalem Knob divided itself silently andsullenly into groups which ignored each other.

  Britt and his people took blankets from the fire station, andestablished makeshift camps down in the fringe of the trees.

  Wade and Christopher Straight went apart, and composed themselves asbest they could on some gray moss that tufted the ledge. Their duty wasplain. That fire threatened Enchanted, once it should sweep through thechimney draught of Pogey Notch. They must stay there and fight it at thepass through which it was marching to invade their territory. RodburdIde promised to have the Enchanted crew following them within a week. Itmight be that their men were already on the way. Their route laythrough Pogey, and Wade would be there ready to captain them.

  The camp was left to the girl and her unkempt guardian. She sat silentand full of bitter rage; but she understood the vagaries of the fool'scharacter well enough to realize that after Lane's orders to Abe evenher persuasions could have no effect; the valley fires that lighted thewindows of the camp gave effective point to Lane's commands. The giantcrouched by the open door and gazed upon the sullen glowings in the vastpit below, muttering his fears to himself.