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Updated: May 17, 2025
From there another train carried them for miles along the upper Penobscot River, past the Indian settlement at Old Town, past the great saw-mills and millions of logs at Mattawaumkeag, and finally to McAdam Junction in "Europe," as Uncle Christopher called New Brunswick. Here they took another road, and were carried back into Maine to Houlton, the county seat of Aroostook County.
"He looks haunted," Mary Terhune ventured; "he starts at times when one speaks sudden, real pitiful like. The look of his eyes, too, has the queer flash of them as sees forward as well as back. Do you mind, Mrs. McAdam, how 'tis said that them as comes nigh to drowning have a glimpse on before as well as the picture of all that has past?" "I've heard the same," nodded Mary McAdam.
"Old Jerry," said he, "has gone mildly mad. All day he sits dressed in his best, ready to start for Jerry-Jo's. He fancies that scapegoat of his has a mansion and fortune, and is expecting his arrival. He amuses himself by packing and unpacking a mangy old carpet-bag. Mary McAdam looks after him and the village youngsters play with him. It's rather a happy ending, after all."
It did not strike any of them that they had not seen the town's night watchman, old Jock McAdam, in the performance of his duties.
Mary McAdam broke in. "What with poverty and the terrors of losing them, there's enough born to my thinking. Time was when the young 'uns happened; they're thought more on, these days. Women should have a say. If there's one thing a man should keep his tongue off it's this matter of families!"
Farwell had his bad hours often, but he rarely permitted himself companionship at such times, but to-day, after his noon meal, he had been unable to keep away from the Lodge. "Fall's setting in early," Mrs. McAdam went on; "pickerel come; whitefish go. Beasts and fish and birds ken a lot, Mr. Farwell." "They certainly do. The more you live with dumb creatures, the more you are impressed with that.
It was eight o'clock and very dark when Doctor Ledyard, driving down from Far Hill Place for the mail, paused to listen to Mrs. McAdam's expressions of anxiety. Young Dick Travers was beside him, and Mary's words held him. "Was Jerry-Jo with your boys, Mrs. McAdam?" he asked. "He was that! And Jerry-Jo always brings ill-luck on a trip.
Her father's doors were still, undoubtedly, closed to her. She could not be a burden to the two men living in Master Farwell's small home. There was, to be sure, Mary McAdam! By and by, perhaps, when the hurt was less and she could trust herself more, she would go to the White Fish Lodge and beg for employment; but until then
Farwell bent his head over his folded arms. "But Mrs. McAdam will take you in, Priscilla. After things calm down and the truth is accepted, your people will forgive and forget. You poor child!" Priscilla closed her lips sharply. Her eyes were very luminous, very tender, as they rested upon Farwell, but her heart knew no pity for her father.
The base and sides of these heights were thickly strewn with small fragments of sandstone. The appearance presented was precisely similar to that of a new road, after it had undergone the improving process invented by Mr. McAdam, in whose honour, therefore, we named this McAdam Range. A large light-coloured kangaroo was the only living thing we saw.
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