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Still chuckling, she waddled around to the front, where only she and Zack, of all the servants, were permitted to tarry, and sat upon the lowest step. "That ought to have been a fine race, Brent," the Colonel wiped his forehead and laughed. "But I suspect it would have made Timmie a widow." "A widow?" Brent asked, passing her with a cheery nod. "Uncle Zack told me they were twins!"
As he stumbled down the path, emitting guffaws and delicious chuckles, he conceived most unhappily for us all an infinitely humorous plan, which would still give him the delight of a rough passage to our harbour: for Timmie loved a wet deck and a reeling beat to windward, under a low, driving sky, with the night coming down, as few lads do. Inform the skipper? Not Timmie!
"But for you, sir, little Timmie might have been left at the roadside to die," she would exclaim over and over. "We'll never forget it never neither I nor the children!" It was thus that Van became the hero of the McGrew household, and the warmth and genuineness of the welcome he unfailingly received there aroused in him an answering friendliness.
"Bruce here, and I," began Barney, and Bruce grinned at the mention of his name, "have a very special mission that takes us cross-country rather than by water. Much as we should like to accept your kind invitation, our mission makes the other route imperative, if it is at all possible to take it." He told them the story of La Vaune, of Timmie and the ancient pay-roll.
"Jacky," I burst out, in disgust, turning to the twins, "I just knowed he'd get t' wonderin'!" Skipper Tommy started: he grew shamefaced, all in a moment; and he seemed now first conscious of guilty wishes. "Timmie," said Jacky, hoarsely, from the doorway, "she've writ." "Ay, Jacky," Timmie echoed, "she've certain gone an' done it." They entered.
The skipper blushed uneasily. "Does you think," Timmie pursued, "that He'll turn His hand again t' save you?" "Well " "Look you, dad," said Jacky, "isn't you got in trouble enough all along o' wonderin' too much?"
Earlier, the doughty son of Shadeland Wildon brought the little boy over to see him, followed by Aunt Timmie in her precarious buggy; but it was now afternoon and they had left. Shadows were lengthening, and the cows were mooing at the pasture gate. Dale, as usual, had spent the day in study. His absorption had made him unconscious of intruders who came into the room.
Mesmie was sleeping by the aid of a mild narcotic, and Aunt Timmie, having darkened the windows, had now come quietly out to converse with him. Her seven days of vigilance had been trying to a degree, and, although while in the sick room she was the very soul of tenderness, this opportunity for relaxation came as a grateful relief.
With memories stirred by draughts of long untasted coffee, it was not difficult for Timmie to tell his Story. "When I left the settlement," he began, as he turned his mooseskin, hammock-like chair toward the open fireplace, and invited his guests to do likewise, "I struck straight into the wilderness. I had a little food, a small rifle and fishing-tackle.
"I do, very much indeed," Stone quickly arose. "Well, I reckon you can have what you want of mine." The doctor took up the lamp and held it close to Dale's face. "Drink?" he asked. "Never have yet." Ignoring the presence of Aunt Timmie, he put a few more intimate questions, and a look of gratification crossed his face when the mountaineer had fully answered. "You'll do," he whispered hopefully.
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