A week was spent by Martin and his party at the settlement, during which he acquired the title to township forty-four, range ten, which included the little lake near the hermit’s hut, and made a foursquare-mile tract about it.

Chip, thanks to Angie, secured a simple outfit of apparel and–surprising fact–evinced excellent taste in its selection, thereby proving that eight years of isolation and a gunny-sack and red-shirt garb had not obliterated the deepest instinct of woman.

To Levi, Martin’s woodwise helper, was left the selection of fittings for the new camp. A couple of husky Canucks were engaged to bring them in in a bateau, and then the party started on its return.

Only one incident of importance occurred during the wait at this village known as Grindstone. Angie and Chip had just left the only store there, in front of which a group of log-drivers had congregated, when Angie, glancing back, saw that one of the group was following them. She quickened her pace, and so did he, until just as they turned into a side street, he passed them, halted, and turned about.

“Wal, I’m damned if ’tain’t Chip, an’ dressed like a leddy,” he exclaimed, as they drew near.

“Hullo, Chip,” he added, as they passed, “when did you strike luck?”

Chip made no response and he muttered again, “Wal, I’m damned, jest like a leddy!”

It was annoying, especially to Angie, and neither of the two realized how soon this blunt log-driver’s discovery would reach Tim’s Place.

And now, leaving the bateau to follow, the party started once more on their journey into the wilderness. No sight or sign of pursuit from the half-breed had been thus far observed. A few idle lumbermen in the village–the only visible connection between the vast forest and a busy world–were little thought of, as their canoes crept slowly up the narrowing river and gave no hint of interference from this low brute to any one except Levi.

He, however, seldom speaking, but ever acting, kept watch and ward continually. At every bend of the stream his eyes were alert to catch the first sight of a down-coming canoe in time to conceal Chip, as he decided must be done. When night camps were made, a site at the head of the lagoon or up some tributary stream was selected, and while not even hinting his reason for this, he felt it wise. As they drew near to Tim’s Place, it began to occur to Martin that Chip’s presence had best be concealed until that point was passed. He also desired to learn the situation there. He had always halted at this clearing in all his up-river journeys, so far, usually to buy pork and potatoes, and he now intended to do so again. He also felt it imperative to conceal Chip in Ray’s canoe, before they reached Tim’s Place, and let Ray paddle slowly on while the halt was made. But Levi dissented.

“’Tain’t best,” he said, “to let Tim know there’s two canoes of us and one not stoppin’. It’ll make him s’picious o’ suthin, ’n’ what he ’spects, Pete’ll find out. I callate we’d best pass thar in the night, leave the wimmen above, ’n’ you ’n’ I go back ’n’ git what we want.”

“But what about the Canucks following us with the bateau?” returned Martin. “They’ll tell who is with us, won’t they?”

“They didn’t see us start,” answered Levi, “’n’ can’t swear wimmen came. We’ll say we’re alone, ’n’ bein’ so’ll make it plausible, ’n’ you might say we’re goin’ to build a camp ’n’ ’nother season fetch our wimmen in.”

“But how about our men, on the return trip, after finding we have women at the camp?” rejoined Martin. “They will be sure to tell all they know on the way back.”

“We’ve got to keep the wimmen shady, an’ fool ’em,” answered Levi. And so his plan was adopted.

It was in the early hours of morning when the two canoes crept noiselessly past Tim’s Place. The stars barely outlined the river’s course, the frame dwelling, log cabin, and stump-dotted slope back of them. All the untidiness existent about this dwelling was hid in darkness, and only the faint sounds and odors betrayed these conditions. But every eye and ear in the two canoes was alert, paddles were dipped without sound, and Chip’s heart was beating so loudly that it seemed to her Tim and all his family must be awakened. Her recent escape from this spot and all the reasons forcing it, the fear that both her father and the half-breed might even now be there, added dread; and not until a bend hid even the shadowy view of this plague spot did she breathe easier.

“I was nigh skeered to death,” she whispered to Ray when safety seemed assured, “an’ if ever Pete finds I’m up whar the folks is goin’, I’m a goner.”

“Oh, we’ll take care of you,” returned that boy, with the boundless confidence of youth; “my uncle can shoot as well as any one, and then Old Cy is up at the camp, and he’s a wonder with a rifle. Why, I’ve seen him hit a crow a half-mile off!”

Smoke was ascending from the chimney, and the rising sun was just visible when Martin and Levi returned to Tim’s. Mike was out in an enclosure, milking; Tim was back of the house, preparing the pigs’ breakfast. The pigs were squealing, and a group of unwashed children were watching operations, when Martin appeared. A pleasant “Good morning” from him and a gruff one from Tim was the introduction, and then that stolid pioneer started for the sty. Not even the unusual event of a caller could hinder him from the one duty he most enjoyed,–the care of his beloved swine.

“You have some nice thrifty pigs,” began Martin, when the pen was reached, desiring to placate Tim.

“They are thot,” he returned.

“My guide and I are on our way into the woods, to build a camp,” continued Martin, anxious to have his errand over with, “and we halted to buy a few potatoes of you and some pork. I have a couple of men following with a bateau,” he continued, after pausing for a reply which did not come; “they will be along in a day or two with most of our supplies; but I felt sure I could get some extra good pork of you and some choice potatoes.”

“You kin thot same,” replied Tim, his demeanor obviously softening under this flattery, and so business relations were established.

Martin had intended asking some cautious question regarding Chip or her father; but Tim’s surly face, his unresponsive manner, and a mistrust of its wisdom prevented. He was blunt of speech, almost to the verge of insolence, and the arrival of Martin with all his polite words evoked not a vestige of welcome; and yet back of those keen gray eyes of his a deal of cunning might lurk, thought Martin.

Two slovenly women peered out of back door and window while the interview was in progress. Mike came and looked on in silence; two of the oldest children were down by the canoe where Levi waited; the rest, open-eyed and astonished, seemed likely to be trodden on by some one each moment. When the stores were secured and paid for, and Martin had pushed off with Levi, he realized something of the life Chip must have led there.He had intended not only to obtain potatoes, but some information of value. He obtained the goods, paying a thrifty price, also a good bit of cold shoulder, and that was all.

But Levi, shrewd woodsman that he was, fared better.

“I larned Chip’s gone off with old McGuire,” he asserted with a quiet smile when they were well away, “an’ that Pete’s swearin’ murder agin him.”

“And how?” responded Martin, in astonishment. “I felt that silence was golden with that surly chap, and didn’t ask a question.”

“I’m glad,” rejoined Levi. “I wanted to tell you not to, and I’ve larned all we want. Children are easy to pump, an’ I did it ’thout wakin’ a hint o’ ’spicion. Tim’s folks all believe Chip’s gone with her dad. Pete thinks so, an’ is watchin’ for him with a gun, I ’spect, an’ if so, the sooner they meet, the better.”

It was gratifying news to Martin, and when the other canoe was reached, the two again pushed on, with Martin, at least, feeling that the ways of Fate might prove acceptable.

Three days more were consumed in reaching the lake now owned by him, for the river was low, carries had to be made around two rapids, and when at last the sequestered, forest-bordered sheet of water was being crossed, Martin wished some titanic hand might raise an impassable barrier about his possessions.

Old Cy’s joy at their return was almost hilarious. To a man long past the spasmodic exuberance of youth, loving nature and the wild as few do, the six months here with the misanthropic old hermit, then a month of more cheerful companionship, followed by the departure of Martin and Angie, made this forest home-coming doubly welcome.

But Chip’s appearance, and the somewhat thrilling episode of her escape from Tim’s Place and her rescue, astonished him. Like all old men who are childless, a young girl and her troubles touched a responsive chord in his heart, and on the instant Chip’s unfortunate condition found sympathy. Her bluntly told story, with all its details, held him spellbound. He laughed over her description of spites, and when she seemed hurt at this seeming levity, he assured her that spites were a reality in the woods–he had seen hundreds of them. It was not long ere he had won her confidence and good-will, as he had Ray’s, and then he took Martin aside.

“That gal’s chaser’s bin here ’bout a week ago,” he said, “an’ the worst-lookin’ cuss I ever seen. I know from his description ’twas him. He kept quizzin’ me ez to how long we’d been here, if I knew McGuire, or had seen him lately, until I got sorter riled ’n’ began to string him. I told him finally that I’d been foolin’ all ’long; that McGuire was a friend o’ mine; that he’d been here a day or two afore, borrowed some money ’n’ lit out fer Canada, knowin’ there was a bad man arter him. Then this one-eyed gazoo got mad, real mad, ’n’ said things, an’ then he cleared out.”

When Martin explained the situation, as he now did, Old Cy chuckled.

“’Tain’t often one shoots in the dark ’n’ makes a bull’s eye,” he said.

“I think you and I had better keep mum about this half-breed’s call,” Martin added quietly, “and if Angie mentions it, you needn’t say that you know who he was. It will only make my wife and the girl nervous.”

The two tents were now pitched at the head of a cove, some rods away from the hermit’s hut, and well out of sight from the landing, and to these both Angie and Chip were assured they must flee as soon as the expected bateau entered the lake, and remain secluded until it had departed.In a way, it was a ticklish situation. All knowledge that this waif was with Martin’s party must be kept from Tim’s Place and this half-breed, or she wouldn’t be safe an hour; and until the Canucks had come and gone, she must be kept hidden. Another and quite a serious annoyance to Martin was the fact that he had counted on these two men as helpers in cutting and hauling logs for this new camp. Only man-power was available, and to move logs a foot in diameter and twenty feet long, in midsummer, was no easy task; but Levi, more experienced in camp-building, made light of it.

“We’ll cut the logs we need, clus to the lake,” he said, “float ’em ’round, ’n’ roll ’em up on skids. It’s easy ’nough, ’n’ we don’t need them Canuckers round a minit.”

It was four days of keen suspense to Chip before they appeared. Neither she nor Angie left the closed tent while they remained over night, or until they had been gone many hours, and then every one felt easier.

The ringing sound of axes now began to echo over the rippled lake, logs were towed across with canoes, a cellar under the new cabin site was excavated, and home-building in the wilderness went merrily on.While the men worked, Angie and Chip were not idle. Not only did they have meals to prepare over a rude outdoor fireplace, but they gathered grass and moss for beds, wove a hammock and rustic chair seats out of sedge grass, and countless other useful aids.

Chip was especially helpful and more grateful than a dog for any and all consideration. Not a step that she could take or a bit of work that she could do was left to Angie; her interest and do-all-she-could desire never flagged, and from early morn until the supper dishes were washed and wiped, Chip was busy.

But Martin, and especially Levi, had other causes for worry than those which camp-building entailed. The fact that this “Pernicious Pete,” as Angie had once called him, would soon learn of their presence here, and hating all law-abiding people, as such forest brigands always do, would naturally seek to injure them, was one cause. Then, there were so many ways by which he could do harm. A fire started at one corner of the hut at midnight, the same Indian-like malice applied to their two tents, the stealing of their canoes or the gashing of them with a hunting-knife, and countless other methods of venting spite, presented themselves. In a way, they were helpless against such a night-prowling enemy. Over one hundred miles separated them from civilization and all assistance; an impassable wilderness lay between. The stream and their canoes were the only means of egress. These valuable craft were left out of sight and sound each night, on the lake shore, and so their vulnerability on all sides was manifest.

Then, Chip’s presence was an added danger. If once this brute found that she was here, there was no limit to what he would do to secure her and take revenge. They had smuggled her past Tim’s Place, but concealment here was impossible; if ever this half-breed returned, she would be discovered, and then what?

And so by day, while Martin and Levi were busy with hut-building, or beside the evening camp-fire when Ray picked his banjo and Chip watched him with admiring glances, these two guardians had eyes and ears ever alert for this expected enemy.