Part 23

"That's my partner, Musq'oosis," explained the boy. "He'll make friends directly. He plays with me by the hour; you'd laugh yourself sick to see the comical way he carries on. He's great company when you're batching alone!"

Natalie liked this boy more and more.

"Say, I'm having no end of company these days," he went on, with his happy-go-lucky air. "The Bishop's outfit was here all day yesterday; they went up on the last of the east wind, this morning. The old woman--that's what we call Mrs. Bishop, you know; no disrespect--she baked me a batch of her bread before she went. Real outside bread with a crackly crust to it! Oh my! Oh my!--with brown sugar! Say, we'll have a loaf of it for supper!"

Natalie in the meantime sat on the bench; and taking off her moccasins, put her feet on the oven sill to dry. Garth sat on a box; and their host squatted on the floor between.

"By the way," said this youth; "I'm Charley Landrum."

Garth introduced himself and Natalie.

"Hope you'll stay a couple of days," said Charley anxiously--"or longer. There's great duck-shooting on the sloughs; and we might get a goose or a wavy around the lake shore. It would be a pleasant change of meat for the lady."

Charley addressed all his remarks to Garth, without ever once looking at Natalie; it was clear, nevertheless, that he was acutely conscious of her presence; for he blushed whenever she spoke; and his eyes were continually drawn to her, though he dared not raise them quite to her face. To Garth and Natalie the nicest thing about this boy was the way he took her presence for granted. Of all the males they had met in the North, he alone had not gaped at her in vulgar wonder; and to his honest heart there was nothing out-of-the-way in the fact that she was Miss Bland, and Garth Mr. Pevensey.

"We're obliged to get on as soon as we can," said Garth. "We've been chasing the Bishop all the way from the Landing."

"How did you come up the little river?" asked Charley.

"I bought a boat from Pierre Toma."

"I know her," he said with a chuckle; "cranky as a bath-tub! You couldn't go up the lake in her!"

"Not while it blows like this," said Garth.

"Then I hope it hits it up for a week!" said Charley, apparently addressing the hem of Natalie's skirt.

"I was told one Wall-eye Macgregor had a strong boat," Garth said.

"Nothing doing!" returned the boy. "He's got it up at the head of the lake."

"Then I must try to strengthen the bath-tub and coast around the shore," said Garth.

"I'll help you!" said Charley. "We'll pitch in first thing to-morrow."

"How long have you been in the country, Mr. Landrum?" asked Natalie softly.

The boy blushed for pure pleasure; and his voice deepened as he replied: "Two years next March, Miss. I came in over the ice with a freighter. I ran away from school. What was the use?--I got a head like a hickory nut; and I couldn't keep out of trouble. They gave me a bad name; and everything that happened was put on me. So I cleared out and came North."

Gradually the whole naïve, boyish tale came out.

"I had a lot of fool ideas about the country then; but they were soon knocked out of me. All the kids that run away soon come sneaking home and have to eat their brags; and I wasn't going to do that. So I stuck it out. At first I admit I pretty near caved in with homesickness; but I'm hardened now. The first year I worked for a trader up at Ostachegan creek; and this spring I bought this cabin on credit. Frank Shefford up at Nine-Mile-Point is going to lend me his team and mower when his hay is put up; and I'll put up hay myself."

The boy's eyes glowed, as he announced his brave plans for the future.

"Next winter I'm going to keep a stopping-house for freighters. I've got a good location here, and stable room already for eight teams. I'll build to it later. There's money in that; and it's a pleasant life for a man--plenty of company. And when I get a little money ahead, I'll trade; there's good chances for a free trader that knows the ropes; and in a few years I'll branch out and have a whole string of trading posts, like Nick Grylls. There's a smart one! They say he could sell out for a hundred thousand any day!"

Garth was reminded of his own hopeful, spouting youth.

"I hope you won't be like Nick Grylls," said Natalie gently.

"Don't you like him?" asked Charley in concern. "I always thought he was a pretty smart one. No!" he added suddenly. "I don't like him either. He's coarse!"

Supper was an affair of joint contributions; Garth's jam for Charley's bread. In the meantime Charley had surreptitiously swept up the chips; and had then slipped away to the river bank, for a wash and a tidy-up. He reappeared with his hair well "slicked," his tip-tilted nose as pink as his shiny cheeks, and a smile that extended to the furthest confines of his face. But he was distressed that he had no white collar to honour the board; and his gratitude was silent and boundless, when Garth produced one for him from his duffle-bag.