Im old Peter, one o the guards, he said. Fine mornin, miss, but a leetle bright for the fish though I aint denyin that a small dark flyd raise em; nom. If I was sot on ketchin a mess o fish, I guess a hares-ear would do the business; yesm. I jest passed Mr. Langham down to the forks, and I seed he was a-chuckin a hares-ear; an he riz em, too; yesm.
How long have you been a keeper here? she asked.
How long, m? Waal, I was the fustest guard they had; yesm. I live down here a piece. They bought my water rights; yesm. An they give me the job. The president he sez to me, Peter, he sez, jest like that Peter, you was raised here; you know all them brooks an rivers like a mink; you stay right here an watch em, an Ill do the squar by ye, he sez, jest like that. An he done it; yesm.
So you knew the president, then? she asked, in a low voice.
Knew him? him? Yesm.
The old man laughed a hollow, toothless laugh, and squinted out across the dazzling river.
Knew him twenty year, I did. A good man, and fair at that. Why, Ive seen him a-settin jest where youre settin this minute seen him a hundred times a-settin there.
Fishing? she said, in an awed voice.
Sometimes. Sometimes he was a-drinkin out o that silver pocket-pistol o hisn. He got drunk a lot up here; but he didnt drink alone; nom. There wasnt a stingy hair in his head; he
Do you mean the president? she said, incredulously, almost angrily.
Him? Yesm. Him an Colonel Hyssop an Major Brent; they had good times in them days.
You knew the president before his marriage, she observed, coldly.
Him? He wasnt never married, miss! said the old man, scornfully.
Are you sure? she asked, with a troubled smile.
Sure? Yesm. Why, the last time he was up here, three year come July Fourth, I seen him a-kissin an a-huggin of old man Dawsons darter
She was on her feet in a flash. The old man stood there smiling his senile smile and squinting out across the water, absorbed in his garrulous reminiscence.
Yesm; all the folks down to the village was fond o the president, he was that jolly and free, an no stuck-up city airs; nom; jest free and easy, an a-sparkin the gals with the best o them
The old man laughed and crossed his arms under the barrel of his shot-gun.
Folks said he might o married old man Dawsons darter if hed lived. I dunno. I guess it was all fun. But I hear the gal took on awful when they told her he was dead; yesm.
VI
Towards evening Langham waded across the river, drew in his dripping line, put up his rod, and counted and weighed his fish. Then, lighting a pipe, he reslung the heavy creel across his back and started up the darkening path. From his dripping tweeds the water oozed; his shoes wheezed and slopped at every step; he was tired, soaked, successful but happy? Possibly.
It was dark when the lighted windows of the lodge twinkled across the hill; he struck out over the meadow, head bent, smoking furiously.
On the steps of the club-house Colonel Hyssop and Major Brent greeted him with the affected heartiness of men who disliked his angling methods; the steward brought out a pan; the fish were uncreeled, reweighed, measured, and entered on the club book.
Finest creel this year, sir, said the steward, admiringly.
The Major grew purple; the Colonel carefully remeasured the largest fish.
Twenty-one inches, steward! he said. Wasnt my big fish of last Thursday twenty-two?
Nineteen, sir, said the steward, promptly.
Then it shrank like the devil! said the Colonel. By gad! it must have shrunk in the creel!
But Langham was in no mood to savor his triumph. He climbed the stairs wearily, leaving little puddles of water on each step, slopped down the hallway, entered his room, and sank into a chair, too weary, too sad even to think.
Presently he lighted his lamp. He dressed with his usual attention to detail, and touched the electric button above his bed.
Im going to-morrow morning, he said to the servant who came; return in an hour and pack my traps.
Langham sat down. He had no inclination for dinner. With his chin propped on his clinched hands he sat there thinking. A sound fell on his ear, the closing of a door at the end of the hall, the padded pattering of a dogs feet, a scratching, a whine.
He opened his door; the bull-terrier trotted in and stood before him in silence. His Highness held in his mouth a letter.
Langham took the note with hands that shook. He could scarcely steady them to open the envelope; he could scarcely see to read the line:
Why are you going away?
He rose, made his way to his desk like a blind man, and wrote,
Because I love you.
His Highness bore the missive away.
For an hour he sat there in the lamp-lit room. The servant came to pack up for him, but he sent the man back, saying that he might change his mind. Then he resumed his waiting, his head buried in his hands. At last, when he could endure the silence no longer, he rose and walked the floor, backward, forward, pausing breathless to listen for the patter of the dogs feet in the hall. But no sound came; he stole to the door and listened, then stepped into the hall. The light still burned in her room, streaming out through the transom.
She would never send another message to him by His Highness; he understood that now. How he cursed himself for his momentary delusion! how he scorned himself for reading anything but friendly kindness in her message! how he burned with self-contempt for his raw, brutal reply, crude as the blurted offer of a yokel!
That settled the matter. If he had any decency left, he must never offend her eyes again. How could he have hoped? How could he have done it? Here, too! here in this place so sanctified to her by associations here, whither she had come upon her pious pilgrimage here, where at least he might have left her to her dead!
Suddenly, as he stood there, her door opened. She saw him standing there. For a full minute they faced each other. Presently His Highness emerged from behind his mistress and trotted out into the hall.
Behind His Highness came his mistress, slowly, more slowly. The dog carefully held a letter between his teeth, and when Langham saw it he sprang forward eagerly.
No, no! she said. I did not mean I cannot I cannot Give me back the letter!
He had the letter in his hand; her hand fell over it; the color surged into her face and neck. The letter dropped from her yielding hand; the thrill from their interlocked fingers made her faint, and she swayed forward towards him, so close that their lips touched, then clung, crushed in their first kiss
Meanwhile His Highness picked up the letter and stood politely waiting.
THE SHINING BAND
I
BEFORE the members of the Sagamore Fish and Game Association had erected their handsome club-house, and before they had begun to purchase those thousands of acres of forest, mountain, and stream which now belonged to them, a speculative lumberman with no capital, named OHara, built the white house across the river on a few acres of inherited property, settled himself comfortably with his wife and child, and prepared to acquire all the timber in sight at a few dollars an acre on credit. For thus, thought he, is the beginning of all millionaires.