Chapter XXIX: Rivers Is Delighted

The next day, after Tom had gone, Brent and I went out and helped the boys.

It was peacefully devoid of all mystery to hear the chop, chop of the axe ringing in the air and the hum of men’s voices about their work.

Even the lake seemed rippling with joy under a cloudless, blue sky. Surely, that morning long ago had never been. Or it was only a hideous dream when that young man’s life was so suddenly brought to a close while the thick gray mist hung over the water!

Toward late afternoon, just before we finished, Rivers passed by. I hailed him. He bore the same inscrutable look as always; said nothing and waited for me to speak. His manner seemed to be that of one who was doing us a favor because he had condescended to stop and listen.

“Charlie,” I said, as cheerfully as I could, “do you know anything about mountains?”

“Sure do,” he answered, resting his arm on the low limb of the tree under which we were standing.

“Know anything about Hogback?” I inquired.

“No. Think I told yer afore, I wuz a stranger here.” I felt squelched.

“So you did, Charlie. My mistake. I suppose mountains are a good deal alike though, aren’t they?”

“Suppose so.”

“The reason I asked is because we’d like you to go up with us. To-morrow night. Tom, Brent and myself. Will you?”

“Guess so.” It was hard to tell if he were pleased or not.

“We’re going to try and find that pesky lynx, Rivers,” Brent said, taking up the threads where I left off.

“Yes!” he said, with quite a faint purr of pleasure at hearing that. I thought he even smiled slightly.

“Like to hunt, eh Charlie?” I felt that at last I had struck the right note.

“Betcha!” He really stirred one foot.

“That’s fine. We’re going around six. Brent wants to see the sunset in the mountains.” I laughed.

“And the moonlight!” Brent added. Rivers grinned again and moved off.

“That chap would make an excellent teacher in a deaf and dumb school.” Brent called out to me, some time later. We were washing up for supper.

“You mean Rivers?”

“Yes, he’s almost too patient to be human.”

Just as supper was ready, Tom came in. His face was flushed and his voice sounded eager as he greeted us.

“Knocks all taken out, Tommy?” Brent asked.

“Yeh,” he answered, breathlessly. Then, “Wait’ll you hear what I have to tell you!”

“Fallen heir to a fortune or something?” I queried.

“Naw. Sh-sh! Listen! The boys are coming in. I’ll tell you later.”

We had a cheerful meal that evening. Everyone was pleasantly talkative and the Lodge was so warm we had to open the doors and windows. The odor of pine and approaching summer was in the air that floated about us.

“Charlie’s going to help us kill that lynx,” Brent said to Tom, across the table.

“That’s fine, Charlie,” Tom said. “I guess he means _you’ll_ do the killing, if it comes to that.”

“Won’t make _me_ mad!” Rivers said. He certainly was pleased.

“What a pleasant supper we had,” I remarked, after the boys had bidden us good-night.

“Yes, didn’t we!” Tom assented.

“In fact,” Brent said, “there was something almost brutally pleasant about the way Rivers spoke of killing that animal. You know, I don’t really mean that he should kill it at all. It’s just a hoax to try and find the hermit.”

“Why did you suggest asking him then?” Tom asked.

“Because,” Brent answered, “if he should get vicious, then it will be all right. But if he doesn’t, why I thought we could stop Rivers at the last minute.”

“Well, I’m afraid you won’t be able to stop him at the last moment at all,” Tom told him.

“Rather him than me,” I said.

“Oh,” said Tom, “a woodsman thinks nothing of that. It’s great sport for him. Why, Brent couldn’t feel as comfortable sitting at the movies.”

“Horrors! Tom! I pray then, hereafter, that I shall be delivered from ever thinking of Rivers when I’m at the movies. The thought would make me decidedly uncomfortable.” Somehow, I liked Brent for saying that!