Joan of arc of the north woods

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Joan of Arc of the North Woods, by Holman Day This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Joan of Arc of the North Woods Author: Holman Day Release Date: September 18, 2007 [eBook #22667] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS*** E-text prepared by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes, Jacqueline Jeremy, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS CONTENTS CHAPTER CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY PAGE 11 18 25 30 43 53 63 75 86 96 109 129 139 151 167 183 200 212 219 232 240 248 261 272 285 296 302 326 339 BOOKS BY HOLMAN DAY JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS WHEN EGYPT WENT BROKE ALL-WOOL MORRISON THE RIDER OF THE KING LOG THE SKIPPER AND THE SKIPPED THE RED LANE THE RAMRODDERS THE LANDLOPER WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS SQUIRE PHIN BLOW THE MAN DOWN Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London J oan of Arc of the North Woods By HOLMAN DAY Author of “THE RIDER OF THE KING LOG,” “WHEN EGYPT WENT BROKE,” ETC HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON Joan of Arc of the North Woods Copyright, 1922 By Harper & Brothers Printed in the U.S.A First Edition H–W Joan of Arc of the North Woods CHAPTER ONE T HE timber situation in the Tomah country was surcharged When Ward Latisan came upon Rufus Craig, one afternoon in autumn, steel struck flint and trouble’s fuse was lighted Their meeting was on the Holeb tote road just below Hagas Falls Young Ward was the grandson of old John, a pioneer who was in his day a saw-log baron of the times of pumpkin pine; by heredity Ward was the foremost champion in the cause of the modern independent operators In his own way, Craig, the field director of the Comas Consolidated Paper Company, was the chief gladiator for an invading corporation which demanded monopoly of the Tomah timber by absorption of the independents Latisan tramped down the tote road from the shoulder of Holeb Mountain, where he had been cruising alone for a week on the Walpole tract, blazing timber for the choppers, marking out twitch roads and haul-downs, locating yards; his short-handled ax was in his belt, his lank haversack flapped on his back; he carried his calipers in one hand; with the other hand he fed himself raisins from his trousers pocket, munching as he went along He had eaten the last of his scanty supply of biscuits and bacon; but, like other timber cruisers—all of them must travel light—he had his raisins to fall back on, doling them one by one, masticating them thoroughly and finding the nourishment adequate He had been on the go every day from sunup till dark; nights he cinched his belted jacket closely and slept as best he could, his back against a tree; he had cruised into every nook and corner of the tract, spending strength prodigally, but when he strode down the tote road his vitality enabled him to hit it off at a brisk gait; his belt was a few holes tighter, yet his fasting made him keenly awake; he was more alert to the joy of being alive in the glory of the crisp day; his cap was in his pocket, his tousled brown hair was rampant; and he welcomed the flood of sunshine on his bronzed face Craig was making his way along the tote road in a buckboard, with a driver The road bristled with rocks and was pitted with hollows; the fat horses dragged their feet at a slow walk Craig was a big man, a bit paunchy, and he grunted while he was bounced He wore his city hard hat as if he wished by his headgear to distinguish himself from the herd of woodsmen whom he bossed Latisan overtook the toiling buckboard, and his stride was taking him past when Craig hailed “Ride?” “No—thank you!” The negative was sharp Privation and toil had put an edge on the young man’s temper, and the temper was not amiable where Craig was concerned “I’ve got some business to talk with you, Latisan.” “If that’s so I can listen while I walk alongside.” But Craig ordered the driver to halt Then the Comas director swung around and faced Latisan “I’m putting it up to you again—will you and your father sell to the Comas?” “No, sir!” “What is it going to be—a fight to a finish?” “If you keep your hands off us saw-log fellows, Mr Craig, there’ll be no fight We were here first, you know!” “That’s got nothing to with the present situation, Latisan We’ve built a million-dollar paper mill on the Toban, and it’s up to me to feed it with pulp stuff We can’t lug our plant off in a shawl strap if supply fails.” “Nor can the folks who have built villages around the sawmills lug away their houses if the mills are closed.” “Paper dominates in this valley nowadays, instead of lumber Latisan, you’re old-fashioned!” The young man, feeling his temper flame, lighted his pipe, avoiding too quick retort “You stand to lose money in the lumber market, with conditions as they are,” proceeded Craig, loftily counseling another man about his own business The Comas director, intent on consolidation, had persistently failed to understand the loyalty, half romantic, which was actuating the old-line employers to protect faithful householders “Let the workers move down the river to our model town.” “And live in those beehives of yours, paying big rent, competing with the riffraff help you hire from employment agencies? We can’t see it that way, Mr Craig!” “Look here! I’ve got some news for you I’ve just pulled five of the independents in with us—Gibson, Sprague, Tolman, Brinton, and Bodwell The Comas now controls the timber market on the Toban How about logs for your mills?” Craig believed he was hitting Latisan five solid jolts to the jaw when he named the recreant operators However, the young man had heard rumors of what the bludgeoning methods of the Comas had accomplished; he surveyed Craig resolutely through the pipe smoke He had come down from the Walpole tract that day in a spirit of new confidence which put away all weariness from him He was armed with a powerful weapon In his exultation, fired by youth’s natural hankering to vaunt success in an undertaking where his elders had failed, he was willing to flourish the weapon Craig waggled a thick forefinger “What are you going to saw, Latisan?” “Two million feet from the Walpole tract—where no ax has chipped a tree for twenty-five years.” It was a return jolt and it made the Comas man blink “But nobody can buy the right to cut there.” “I have bought the right, Mr Craig An air-tight stumpage contract—passed CHAPTER THIRTY T HE sun at meridian that day burned away the mists, for it was May and the high sun was able to prevail The sluiceway of Skulltree dam was open and in the caldron of the gorge a yeasty flood boiled and the sunlight painted rainbows in the drifting spume Rolling cumbrously, end over end, at the foot of the sluice, lifting glistening, dripping flanks, sinking and darting through the white smother of the waters, the logs of the Flagg drive had begun their flight to the holdbooms of Adonia Lida and the taciturn squire whom she had drafted had climbed to the cliffs above the gorge in order to behold the first fruits of the compact which had been concluded with Craig and the Comas Latisan went with her to the cliff because she had asked him to show her the way His manner with her was not exactly shyness; she had been studying him, trying anxiously to penetrate his thoughts He was reserved, but awkwardly so; it was more like embarrassment; it was a mingling of deference and despair in the face of a barrier It was warm up there where the sun beat against the granite, and she pulled off the jacket which had been one of her credentials in the north country “I took the liberty of wearing it—and the cap I’ll not need them any more.” She took the cap from her head The breeze which had followed the calm of the mist fluttered a loose lock of her hair across her forehead and the sun lighted a glint within the tress He gazed and blinked “I heard you had them—I heard it in Mern’s office in New York,” he said, with poor tact She offered them and he took the garments, clutching the cap and holding the jacket across his arm “I don’t blame you for looking at me as you do,” she went on, demurely and deprecatingly feminine at that moment She smoothed her blouse with both hands and glanced down at her stained and ragged skirt “It’s my only warm dress and I’ve lived and slept in it—and I haven’t minded a bit when the coffee slopped I was trying to do my best.” He rocked his head voicelessly, helplessly—striving to fit speech to the thoughts that surged in him Then she made a request which perturbed him still more: “You came up here on horseback, I think you said May I borrow the horse?” “Do you mean that you’re going away?” he gulped She spread her hands and again glanced down at her attire She was hiding deeper motives behind the thin screen of concern for her wardrobe, trying to make a jest of the situation, and not succeeding “You must own up that I need to go shopping.” He turned from her to the chasm where the logs were tumbling along “And there’s nothing to keep me here any longer, Mr Latisan, now that you have come back!” He faced her again, swinging with a haste that ground his heels sharply on the ledge But she put up her hand when he opened his mouth “Do you think it will do us any good to bring up what has happened? I don’t I implore you not to mention it You have come back to your work—it’s waiting for you After what you have done to-day you’ll never need to lower your eyes before any man on this river In my heart, when I gave you your cap and jacket, I was asking you to take back your work I ask you with all the earnestness that’s in me! Won’t you it?” There was a hint of a sob in her tones, but her eyes were full of the confidence of one who felt that she was not asking vainly He did not hesitate But words were still beyond the reach of his tongue He dragged off the billycock hat which he had bought in town and scaled it far out into the turbid flood He pulled off the wrinkled coat of the ready-made suit and tossed it down the side of the cliff With the cap on his head and buckling the belt of the jacket he stood before her “The men gave me my chance to-day; you’re giving me a bigger one.” “Then I’m only wasting your time—up here!” It had not been in Latisan’s mind that he would make any reference to the past; she had implored him to keep silent and he was determined to obey He was rigidly resolved to offer no plea for the future; this was the granddaughter— presumably the heiress of Echford Flagg, to be taken into her own after this service she had rendered A Latisan of the broken Latisans had no right to lift his eyes to her! If there had been a twinkle of hope for his comfort in her attitude of reliance on him after he had arrived at Skulltree, there was none at that moment, for she had become distinctly dignified and distant He swung back to that bitter conclusion which he had made a part of his convictions when he had pondered on the matter in his little room in New York—her frantically pledged affection had been only a part of her campaign of sacrifice He was not blaming her for the pretense—he was not calling it deceit She had fought for her own with such weapons as she could command in a time of stress He followed her meekly when she hurried down from the cliff On the path which led back to the Flagg camp a breathless cookee met them “A team is here from Adonia, miss It’s the big bays—Mr Flagg’s horses.” Instinctively she turned to Ward, making him her prop as she had done previously on that day “I’ve been expecting it,” he told her “It’s just what your grandfather would do after he got word that Craig had gone through Adonia with his roughnecks Mr Flagg wouldn’t leave you here to face what was threatened.” “I didn’t tell my grandfather who I was Dick promised to keep the secret,” she faltered “Remember! Words have wings up in this region! I explained to you once, Miss Kennard, and you know what happened when I let loose that flock of them at Adonia—like a fool I don’t dare to think about it!” He paced away from her; then he returned, calm again “Mr Flagg must have heard—he would keep in touch with what has been going on up here—and after he knew, it would be his style to let you go ahead and win out He would understand what it is you’re trying to do His sending that team, now that he is afraid of danger, proves that he knows.” When she ran on ahead Latisan did not try to keep up with her; he was once again the drive boss of Flagg’s crew, a hired man; he had no excuse for meddling in the family affairs of his employers, he reflected, and in his new humility he was avoiding anything which might savor of inquisitive surveillance The man who had put the horses to the jumper in Adonia, the man whom she knew as Jeff, was the deputy whom Flagg had sent He had come in haste—that was plain to her; he was mopping the flanks of the sweating bays The deference with which he touched his cap informed her fully as to the amount of knowledge possessed by the Flagg household He unbuttoned, one after the other, his overcoat, his inner coat, his waistcoat, and from the deepest recess in his garments produced a sealed letter; his precautions in regard to it attested the value he put on a communication from the master to the master’s granddaughter The envelope was blank The men of the shift that had been relieved stood about her in a circle The arrival of the bays was an event which matched the other sensational happenings of the crowded day, and she was conscious that, without meaning to be disrespectful, the men were hankering to be taken wholly into her confidence— were expecting that much favor from her Granddaughter of Echford Flagg she might be—but more than all she was one of the crew, that season, a companion who had inspired them, toiled with them, and triumphed with them If any more good news had come they, as friends, were entitled to know it, their expressions told her They were distinctly conveying to her their notion that she should stand there and read the letter aloud The hand which clutched the missive was trembling, and she was filled with dread in spite of the consoling thought that she had achieved so much She was afraid to open the letter and she escaped out of the circle of inquiring faces and hid herself in her tent; even the crude flourish of importance displayed by the manner of Jeff in delivering the communication to her had its effect in making her fears more profound The whims of old age—Flagg had dwelt on the subject! She remembered that when she was in the big house with Latisan, her grandfather had beat on the page of the Bible and had anathematized the ties of family in his arraignment of faults He had been kind, after his fashion, when she was incognito, but now that he knew—— She ripped the envelope from the letter and opened the sheet; it was a broad sheet and had been folded many times to make it fit the envelope It was more like rude print than handwriting At first she thought that her grandfather had been able to master a makeshift chirography with his left hand But boldly at the top of the sheet, as a preface of apology, was this statement: “Dicktated to Dick and excuse looks and mesteaks Hese a poor tool at writtin.” Crouching on her bed of boughs, the sheet on her knees, her hands clutched into her wind-rumpled hair above her temples, she read the letter which her grandfather had contrived with the help of his drafted amanuensis To my Grand-daughter He have to use short words and few Dick is slow and can’t spel Lida’s thoughts were running parallel with her reading, and she remembered that, in those letters of hideous arraignment which she had found in her mother’s effects, Echford Flagg’s own spelling was fantastically original But under the layers of ugly malediction she had found pathos: he said that he’d had no schooling of his own, and on that account had been led to turn his business over to the better but dishonest ability of Alfred Kennard Reading on, she could picture the scene—the two old men toiling with pathetic earnestness over the task of preparing that letter; here and there, the words only partially deleted by lines run across them, were evidences that in his flustration under the master’s vitriolic complaints, old Dick had confused comment with dictated matter—and had included comment in his unthinking haste to get everything down Three times a “Dam your pelt” had been written and crossed out He tell you I knew you when I gave you my old cant dog Lida gasped when she read the blunt declaration She might have guessed that Echford Flagg would have repulsed a stranger; he had disguised his true sentiments under the excuse of an old man’s whim! I let you go It was making a squair deal between you and me Nicola sent me a man to tell me how you had gorn north with his men and so I took Dick back after I had fired him It was at this point that a particularly prominent “Dam your pelt” was interjected The old fool would have blabbed to me what you told him to keep quiet about He aint fit to be trusted with any secrits But he was scard to tell me you was Lida I told him But the Comas helyun has gorn past here with men and guns Let him have the logs I want you, my granddaughter Come home Tears flooded her eyes “Come home!” Old Dick had printed those words in bold letters This is in haist but he has been 2 hours writtin it and so I send Jeff to bring you Dont wait Kepe away from danjur Come home And old Dick, the toiling scribe, had smuggled in at the bottom of the sheet a postscript, a vicarious confession which Echford Flagg did not know how to make, “Hese cryin and monein for you Come home!” It was as if those two summoning words were spoken in her ear, plaintively and quaveringly She ran from the tent, carrying her little bag and the cant dog scepter of the Flaggs “Can you start back at once?” she called to Jeff “Aye! It’s orders.” She saw Latisan at the shore, directing the movements of the men; he was once more the drive master, his cant dog in his hand, terse in his commands, obeyed in his authority He pulled off his cap and walked to meet her when she hastened toward him “I’m going back to Adonia.” “My guess was right, you see!” “Are you coming soon to report?—Shall I tell my grandfather——” She halted in her query as if she were regretting the eagerness in her tone “I’ll leave it to you to tell him all that has happened up here But you may say to him, if you will, that I’m staying with the drive from now on.” Her charioteer swung the big bays and headed them toward the mouth of the tote road, halting them near her Her emotions were struggling from the fetters with which she tried to bind them Those men standing around! She wished they would go away about their business, but they surveyed her with the satisfied air of persons who felt that they belonged in all matters that were on foot Latisan was repressed, grave, keeping his place, as he had assigned a status to himself She was glad when old Vittum broke upon the silence that had become embarrassing “It won’t be like what it has been, after you’re gone, Miss Lida Kennard But I feel that I’m speaking for the men when I say that you’re entitled to a lay-off, and if you’ll be out on the hill where you can wave your hand to us when we ride the leader logs into the hold-boom, we’ll all be much obligated to you! I was thinking of calling for three cheers, but I remember how this idea seemed to hit better.” He led the procession of men past her; they scrubbed their toil-roughened palms across their breasts and gave her silent pledges when they grasped her hand “It’s sort of a family party,” said Vittum There was inspiration for her in that suggestion This was no time for convention, for placid weighing of this consideration against that, for strait-laced repression The environment encouraged her Her exulting joy drove her on Once before, forced by the intensity of her need, she had made small account of convenances But she acknowledged that a half truth had nearly compassed destruction of her hopes and the ruin of a man; a liar had taken advantage of an equivocal position But now the whole truth about her was clear Her identity was known—her motives were beyond all question And there were no vindictive liars among those loyal followers who had come storming down the river for the sake of her cause If she did what she had in her mind to do, what was it except the confirmation of a pledge and the carrying out of a promise? But when she looked appealingly up at Latisan he was steadfastly staring past her Her impulses were already galloping, but the instant prick of pique was the final urge which made the impulses fairly run away She reached out and took Ward’s hand and pressed it between her palms “If it’s because I’m Lida Kennard instead of the table girl at Brophy’s tavern, you’re foolish,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe “I gave you my promise But perhaps you think it isn’t binding because there was no seal, such as I put on that lawyer’s paper down at the dam Well—then—here’s the seal.” She flung her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek “Now let the winged word take flight through the region!” she told herself No man could misunderstand the declaration of that kiss! When Latisan came to his senses sufficiently to move his muscles, she avoided his groping arms and ran to the wagon For a moment the big bays crouched, expecting the whistling sweep of the whip, bending their necks to watch the passenger climbing to her seat “Wait!” begged Latisan He stumbled toward the wagon, staring at her, tripped by the earth ridges to which he paid no heed “Yes!” she promised And then in tones that were low and thrilling and significant with honest pledge she said, “I’ll wait for you—at home—at home!” Jeff obeyed her quick command and swung the whistling whip, and Latisan stood gazing after her The men respected his stunned absorption in his thoughts They went scattering to their work Felix walked with Vittum “Ba gor!” The French Canadian vented the ejaculation after taking a deep breath “When she say it to him—as she say it—it make goose flesh wiggle all over maself!” “As I have said!” Vittum was trudging along, his eyes on a big plug of tobacco from which he was paring a slice “As I have said!” He slid the slice into his mouth from the blade of the knife “She knows her business!” ***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS*** ******* This file should be named 22667-h.txt or 22667-h.zip ******* This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/6/22667 Updated editions will replace the previous one the old editions will be renamed Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, 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AND LONDON Joan of Arc of the North Woods Copyright, 1922 By Harper & Brothers Printed in the U.S.A First Edition H–W Joan of Arc of the North Woods CHAPTER ONE T HE timber situation in the Tomah country was surcharged... BOOKS BY HOLMAN DAY JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS WHEN EGYPT WENT BROKE ALL-WOOL MORRISON THE RIDER OF THE KING LOG THE SKIPPER AND THE SKIPPED THE RED LANE THE RAMRODDERS THE LANDLOPER WHERE... BLOW THE MAN DOWN Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London J oan of Arc of the North Woods By HOLMAN DAY Author of THE RIDER OF THE KING LOG,” “WHEN EGYPT WENT BROKE,” ETC HARPER & BROTHERS,