During the rest of the journey—a matter of an hour’s walking—there was little talk between Miranda and Dave; for the ancient wood has the property that it makes talk seem trivial. With those who journey through the great vistas and clear twilight of the trees, thoughts are apt to interchange by the medium of silence and sympathy, or else to remain uncommunicated. Whatever her misgivings, her resentments and hostilities, Miranda was absorbed in her companion. So deeply was she absorbed that she failed to notice an unwonted emptiness in the shadows about her. In very truth, the furtive folk had all fled away. The presence of the hunter filled them with instinctive fear; and in their chief defence, their moveless self-effacement, Arrived at the edge of the clearing, Dave was struck by the alteration that had come over it since that day, thirteen years back, when he had aided Kirstie’s flight from the Settlement. It was still bleak, and overbrooded by a vast unroutable stillness, for the swelling of the land lifted it from the forest’s shelter and made it neighbour to the solitary sky. But the open fields were prosperous with blue-flowered flax, pink-and-white buckwheat, the green sombreness of potatoes, and the gallant ranks of corn; while half a dozen sleek cattle dotted the stumpy pasture. The fences were well kept. The cabin and the barn were hedged about with shining thickets of sunflower, florid hollyhocks, and scarlet-runner beans. It gave the young woodman a kind of pang,—this bit of homely sweetness projected, as it were, upon the infinite solitude of the universe. It made him think, somehow, of the smile of a lost child that does not know it is lost. Presently, to his astonishment, there rose up from behind a blackberry coppice the very biggest bear he had ever seen. The huge animal paused at sight of a stranger, and sat up on her hind quarters to inspect him. Then she dropped again upon all fours, shuffled to Miranda’s side, and affectionately smuggled her nose into the girl’s palm. Dave looked on with smiling admiration. The picture appealed to him. And Miranda, scanning his face with jealous keenness, could detect therein nothing but approval. “This is Kroof,” said she, graciously. “Never seen such a fine bear in all my life!” exclaimed the young man, sincerely enough; and with a rash unmindfulness of the reserve which governs the manners of all the furtive folk (except the squirrels), he stretched out his hand to stroke Kroof’s splendid coat. The presumption was instantly resented. With an indignant squeal Kroof swung aside and struck at the offending hand, missing it by a hair’s breadth, as Dave snatched it back out of peril. A Kroof was amazed. Not since the episode of the hare had Miranda struck her, and then the baby hand had conveyed no offence. Now it was different: and she felt that the tall stranger was the cause of the difference. Her heart swelled fiercely within her furry sides. She gave Miranda one look of bitter reproach, and shambled off slowly down the green alleys of the potato field. During some moments of hesitation, Miranda looked from Kroof to Dave, and from Dave to Kroof. Then her heart smote her. With a little sob in her throat, she ran swiftly after the bear, and clung to her neck with murmured words of penitence. But Kroof, paying no attention whatever, kept her way steadily to the woods, dragging Miranda as if she had been a bramble caught on her fur. When she went back to where the young hunter awaited her, Miranda’s friendly interest had vanished, and in a chilly silence—very unlike that which had been eloquent between them a short half hour before—the two walked on up to the cabin. In Kirstie’s welcome Dave found all the warmth he could wish, with never a reproach for his long years Unpleasant she certainly was, all the evening, coldly unconscious of his presence, except, of course, at supper, where civility as well as hospitality obliged her to keep his plate supplied, and not to sour his meal with an obstinate silence. In the morning he was diligent to help with the barnyard chores, and won golden comment from Kirstie; but he found Miranda still ice to his admiration. About breakfast time, however, Kroof reappeared, with an air of having quite forgotten the evening’s little unpleasantness. Of Dave she took no notice at all, looking through, beyond, and around him; but with her return Miranda’s manner became a shade less austere. Her self-reproach was mitigated when she saw that her passing interest in the newcomer had not unpardonably wronged her old friend. Dave was bound for the Settlement, to The young hunter was annoyed. Powder was, in his eyes, a sacred thing, and such a wanton waste of it seemed to him little less than criminal. “That was all the powder I had ’twixt here an’ the Settlement,” he said, in a tone of rebuke. “So much the better,” said Miranda. “But I don’t see no sense in wastin’ it that way,” he persisted. “No knowing what may happen between here and the Settlement,” rejoined the girl, meaningly. Dave flushed with anger. “Didn’t I pass ye my word I’d not harm a hair of one of your beasts?” he demanded. “Then what do you want with the powder this side of the Settlement?” she inquired, with tantalizing pertinence. The young hunter, though steady and clear in his thought, was by no means apt in repartee, and Miranda had him at a cruel disadvantage. Confused by her last question, he blundered badly in his reply. “But—what if a painter should jump onto me, like he was goin’ to yesterday?” he protested. “I thought you promised you wouldn’t harm a hair of one of them,” suggested Miranda, thoughtful yet triumphant. “Would you have me let the critter kill me, jest to keep my promise?” he asked, humour beginning to correct his vexation. “I don’t see why not,” murmured Miranda. “Anyhow, you’ve got to do without the powder. And you needn’t be frightened, Dave,”—this very patronizingly,—“for your father never carries “Well, then,” laughed Dave, “I’ll try an’ keep my hair on, an’ not be clean skeered to death. Good-by, Kirstie! Good-by, Mirandy! I’ll look ’round this way afore long, like as not.” “Inside of twelve years?” said Kirstie, with a rare smile, which robbed her words of all reproach. “Likely,” responded Dave, and he swung off with long, active strides down the trail. Miranda’s eyes followed him with reluctance. |