Joan of Arc of the North Woods by Holman Day (list of e readers .txt) 📖

to blame for his sour temper as some folks are bound to have it. Old Job of the Bible had nothing on Eck for troubles. No matter what he has done, Eck has been a square fighter. Probably you ain't interested, even to the extent of a hoot, in gossip about the neighbors. But Eck had a bad one put over on him years ago. He hasn't been right since that time. Square dealing is his religion. But to get his worst trimming right in his own family, it was awful. Son-in-law done it. But I reckon I'd better hang up on that subject, miss. Here comes Latisan for breakfast."
The landlord plodded out.
This man who seated himself, waiting to be served by her, who was determined to possess her, had been unwittingly alienated by her from the duty which was owed to that helpless grandfather in his extremity.
The reminder which Brophy had tossed at her carelessly had served to rouse her to desperation. She clung to a service table to keep from falling. She staggered when she started to cross the room to Latisan; her hands and feet were prickling as the blood resumed its course in her veins.
"You're sick," he suggested, solicitously.
She shook her head. She turned her face from him, afraid of his questioning gaze. "Give your order, please!"
"Bring anything."
She started away, but turned and hurried back to his table, her face hard with resolution. She feared that the resolution would be weakened by delay; in a few moments others would come into the room.
"I have changed my mind about that offer of marriage. This morning I say, 'Yes!'"
He gaped at her and started to rise.
"Don't leave that chair!" she commanded, her low tones tense. "There are men in the office looking this way. I'll marry you when the Flagg drive is down, with you at the head of it, doing your duty. You may think that over while I'm in the kitchen."
When she returned with food, Latisan, flushed, eager, only partially assured, looked her in the eye, challenging her candor. "That's straight talk, is it?"
"It is!"
"I thank God! But why--right here in the open--where I can't----"
"I'll answer no questions."
"I'd like to know why you picked out this place to tell me. I can't be shut away from all the glory in the grandest moment of my life! I want to get up and yell for joy. I want to take you in my arms."
"I'll not allow that. Furthermore, you are to leave for the drive immediately after you have eaten your breakfast." Her manner cowed him.
"Very well!" he returned, meekly. "When I looked into your eyes I knew that your word to me was good!"
She was finding the fixity of his gaze disconcerting and leaned above the table, arranging the dishes which contained his food. She was grateful for the protection the public room was affording; she would not have been able to declare herself in the privacy which love, in most circumstances, demands.
"Who are you?" he asked, in a half whisper, taking advantage of her nearness. "You are more than you seem to be. You are, I say! You are not silly and selfish like most girls in a time like this. You are able to make me do anything you ask. I'll go north and fight because you want me to. But an ordinary girl wouldn't take a big view of things, as you do."
"Yes--for the sake of having a man be what he ought to be."
He wagged his head doubtfully. "But if you'll tell me the honest truth about----"
"Hush! Here comes a man."
It was Crowley. He had looked from his chamber window and had seen the two in conversation in front of the tavern. He was strictly on the job that day; he had dressed in such a hurry that he was tying his necktie as he entered the room. He sat down at a table and glared grimly at Latisan and the girl; provided with ammunition that fortified his courage, Crowley had resolved to make his bigness in the matter, unafraid.
His appearance at that moment and the manner of his espionage and the memory of what had been said concerning his pursuit of the girl stirred Latisan to the depths. His emotions had been in a tumult ever since the girl had declared her promise. He was in no mood to reason calmly. He could not control himself. He purposed to go to what he thought was his duty as her accepted champion. Therefore, he leaped from his chair, put his arm about her waist, and pulled her across the room, in spite of her resistance.
"Listen to me, you sneak!" he adjured Crowley. "This young lady and I are engaged to be married."
"Hush!" she cried, in mingled fright and fury. "You promised----It isn't----"
"I made no promise except to go north because you have asked me to go. I'm going back to my job, and I'll have the Flagg logs down if I have to smash the bottom out of the river," he boasted, in his new pride. "Crowley--as I believe your name is--you have heard me announce the engagement. If you give this young lady another twisted look or crooked word while I'm away, may God have mercy on your soul!"
He was talking to the one man who ought to hear that news, so the lover felt, but his voice was raised in his emotion and Brophy and the loungers in the office heard, too.
Latisan kissed her once, swiftly and rapturously.
According to the code of social procedure in Adonia, as the office onlookers viewed the matter of congratulation, the occasion called for three cheers; they were proposed and given and even Brophy joined, but with sour grace.
She had endeavored ineffectually to check Latisan's outburst, understanding fully the interlocking perils involved in the promulgation to Crowley that the drive master was going back to his work. It had become her own personal, vital affair, this thing! She was far from admitting even then that love was urging her to the promise she had made so precipitately. The wild spirit of sacrifice had surged in her. She was able to pay--to redeem! It was all for the sake of the family! But this love-cracked idiot, babbling his triumph, had thrown wide the gate of caution--had exposed all to the enemy; she feared Crowley in his surly, new mood!
Poor Ward turned to her a radiant, humid stare of devotion; she responded by flashing fury at him from her eyes. Her cheeks were crimson. "Haven't you any wit in you?" she raged, holding her tones in leash with effort, her convulsed face close to his amazed countenance.
"It was to put you right----" he stammered.
"It has made everything all wrong!"
Men had come into the room. She hurried away from the dumfounded lover.
While she went about her work, sedulously keeping her gaze from Latisan, she heard the men jocosely canvassing the matter. They called to the drive master, giving him clumsy congratulation. There were timber cruisers who were going into the north country; they declared with hilarity that they would spread the news. They ate and went stamping away, news bureaus afoot.
She marched to the pathetic incarnation of doubt and dolor after a time; he was lingering at table in a condition that was near to stupefaction.
"Why aren't you on your way?" she demanded, with ireful impatience.
"You'll have to tell me what the matter is with you!"
"I'll tell you nothing--not now! But you have something to tell Mr. Flagg, haven't you?"
"You're right! I'll go and tell him that I'm starting for the drive. If I have to smash the hinges off the door of Tophet I'll put our logs----"
"That's it!" she cried, eagerly. "Our logs! We'll call them our logs. Don't mind because I seemed strange a little while ago. You'll understand, some day. But now hurry! Hurry!" She forced herself to smile. She was eagerly in earnest, almost hysterical. She spoke his name, though with effort. "Remember, Ward! Our logs! Bring them through!"
He leaped out of his chair. The other breakfasters were gone. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
Immediately after Latisan had left on his way to assure Echford Flagg, the girl was reminded of her putative Vose-Mern affiliations. Crowley lounged back into the room, taking advantage of the fact that she was alone. "Put me wise as to why you're playing this shot with the reverse English."
"Hands off, Crowley! You're only a watchdog, paid to guard me."
"I don't propose to have our folks double-crossed. You have started that drive boss back onto his job, and you and he announce an engagement this morning! You're cagy or crazy! I won't have anything put over! If you're straight, come through to me and I'll back you. Otherwise----" He tossed his hands in an eloquent gesture.
"I'll wire to have you pulled down to the city."
"I have done some wiring ahead of you. It's up to our folks to find out what's the big idea."
"Crowley, won't you leave it all to me?" she pleaded, fighting to the last ditch for her secret and for time. "Can't you see that I'm placing a double-crosser in the enemy's camp?"
He looked at her hard and long and his lips curled into a sardonic grin. "You're a good one. I'll admit that. But you can't stand there and give me the straight eye and make me believe you have made over Latisan to that extent. I've got him sized. It can't be done!"
Crowley was right--she could not meet his sophisticated gaze.
"What do you expect me to do?" she asked, lamely.
"Keep him off the drive. If he starts to leave this village to-day I'm going to grab in."
She knew Crowley's obstinacy in his single-track methods. There was no telling what he would undertake nor what damage might be wrought by his interference. She tried to force from him his intentions; he paid no heed to her appeals or her threats.
She was fighting for her own with all the wit and power that were in her; she was standing in the path by which the enemies must advance, resolved to battle as long as her strength might last, serving as best she could to distract attention from the main fight to herself, willing to sacrifice herself utterly.
Crowley walked with a bit of a swagger from the room, lighted a cigarette in the office, puttered for a few moments with some old newspapers on a table, and then went out of doors and strolled along the road in the direction of the big house on the hill. She observed his course from a side window. She felt the impulse to run after him and beat her fists against that broad and stubborn back.
She saw Latisan come striding down from the Flagg mansion, determination in his manner.
The two men met. They halted.
Her apprehension became agony, but she did not dare to interfere between them.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Crowley, standing in front of Latisan, twisted his countenance into an expression of deprecatory, appealing remorse.
"I have taken the liberty of apologizing to the young lady, sir! Now that I know how matters stand, I want to beg your pardon very humbly. I haven't meant anything wrong, but a man of my style gets cheeky without realizing it."
Latisan had come off well in his interview with Echford Flagg. The old man seemed to be in a chastened mood. When he had been informed of the part the girl was playing, the master had admitted that the right kind of a woman can influence a man to his own good.
Therefore, when the drive master strode down the hill,