A Gentleman of Courage

ways been a friend of the blue jays, and this particular bird had perched himself in a spruce top a hundre

his everlasting cocksureness, his persevering courage and his hundred and one little tricks of outlawry and piracy-a bird who was always ready for a fight, never ran away from tro

ucous cries must split his throat. Then, too, there[42] was the cheerful little sapsucker who persisted in pecking for grubs in the end of the big log behind which Peter and his father were hidden, and two new

ound, and staring; his body, not so strong as it should have been, was doubled up behind the log, and his heart throbbed like a hamm

Peter," this father had told him a hundred times, "and that is to be a pal to your own boy when you have one, just as you are now a pal of your dad's. If a dad and his boy are not pals they shouldn't have been born." So they had been that, with no secrets between them except one that had l

sisted in running down his cheek and wetting the soft roll of his collar. He was bareheaded and sweaty; his blond hair, very much like Peter's, was wildly disheveled; his hands gripped a gun, and lying on his s

ght?" he asked. "N

s head. "I'm n

ing h

N

irs

tle-no

laughing. But he laughed, fighting to

Peter. God know

nd fifty yards from them, and a bullet struck the log with a sodden chug. The

it hur

ut a scrat

he ground and peered

fit, and the sapsucker perked his bright-eyed little head at him not more than a dozen feet away. He could hear a bird singing, and one of th

ee sides. That was why they were safe, Peter's father had told him. No living thing could swim it to get behind them, and in front of them was a

rown a stone, was a deep, dense forest of primeval darkness, low and swampy, in which he conceived a thousand hiding-places for himself and his father. Peter's mind sometimes traveled beyond his years,

boiling fury where the channel narrowed or where it leaped over the great boulders and rock débris of rapids. From where he crouched Peter could see one of these places a quarter of a mile below, and there the water was not black but white, and leaped and spouted as if huge monsters were churning it. Under ordinary conditions the swollen stream would have lured and fascinated him. It came out of a vast and mys

earth he walked upon and more than the God he believed in, he loved this boy. It was Peter, with his thin, quizzical face, and his mind and courage developed beyond his strength and years, who had made l

y's head. It was a habit with him to talk with Peter at times as if he wer

ey're afraid of us in the light, Peter. But they'll come when

n this father of his. He waited, keenly expectant, twi

4

frighten you, so

t, but I'm not mu

, the big dry one, half in the water?" He pointed, and Peter nodded. "When it begins

e a tremor came i

rying to shoot us for

me voice call down the vengeance of God upon the makers of that grim and merciless law which at last had come to corner and destroy him where h

s head, and

ve a bite to eat. When we take to

he man had finished he drew from an inside pocket of the same coat a wallet, a pencil and a corked bottle half filled with[48] matches. In the wallet he found a sheet of paper, and on this

e name is Simon McQuarrie. Don't forget those two-Five Fingers and Simon McQuarrie. What I have written and put in the bottle is for him. If anything should h

take

he

Fing

ho

McQua

t of the tops of my boots. We may need them to harness the log with when we

will!" agreed

n to wear a uniform when he was old enough, one with stripes and brass buttons, and with a big revolver fastened to a cord hung around his neck. He had looked upon the wilderness police with the awe of a youngster who love

he police, Peter, and we've got t

log. There were four of them. His father had kept them back with his rifle, and Peter was disappointed in his marksmanship. He was sure he could have done better himself. His

n a rabbit. An inch at a[50] time, slowly and carefully so that his father would not notice what he was doing, he poked the barrel of the rifle through the hole. He would be ready, anyway. He had forgotten fear. His blood was hot. His father had always talked to him about playing square, and ne

dn't leave you in the cabin alone. I've got to get you down to Five Fingers. If Simon McQ

turned-just in time to catch his hand, to stop his finger at the trigger, to drag him back from the hole. Never as long as he lived would he forget the terrible look that had co

ar[51] of the Provincial Police was looking tow

ess you have to, but if that happens-shoot straight. Only be sure it's not the kid

as something which belonged entirely to Peter and his father. As they waited for the sun to dip behind the tall evergreen

love that would never die. More than once a cold fear had swept over him at the thought of something happening to him, and he had always prayed that if anything did happen, it would come to both at

ustness of God[52] in Donald McRae's soul, and always there were two things in his breast, faith and memory of the woman, like stars wh

resence and the touch of his hand filled him with an utter confidence. The man even pointed out to him the mysteries of an ant home which they had a

dusk song of many red squirrels. A flock of crows sailed overhead on their way to the evening roosting place. The rush of the river seemed more gentle and lost its menace f

ter's father. "Creep after

tension he was under as he worked. He stood his rifle where the police would easily find it and laughed softly as he tied one end of a stout leather thong about Peter's wri

ully. "A canoe couldn't have been bett

dy," sai

rs of one hand tightly in his coat. Then they began to move. His feet lost bottom and the cold water shot up to his armpits, taking his breath away. His father grinned cheerfully at him and he tried to grin back. In a moment they were in the current and the shore began to slip past th

ought came to Peter that it was like a race. Then something alive caught his eyes on the flotsam. It was a furry, catlik

her. "He will have a nice sw

d when something drifted against him. It was a drowned porcupin

had given it was gone, and a sullen, snarling undertone of menace and wrath began to pound at the drums of his ears. In the

d overtaken and passed was now passing them. To Peter this last was unaccountable, but to Donald McRae, who understood the whims and caprices of flood currents, there was no mystery abou

tightened its

d," he cried. "We'll go thro

explosions of water bursting itself against great rocks all about him. For a space which seemed an eternity he gave himself up for lost, and he wanted to scream out to his father. But the water smothered him. It

it swung shoreward in a great eddy. For the first time Peter felt a hurt. It was his father's hand, holding him in a grip that only death could have broken. And then he saw his f

5

ests and its hundreds of miles of untrailed hiding-places. The big pool was dotted with drifting masses of d

the log to the shore and helped him out to dry ground the boy fell

e took one

Peter-run if y

t his teeth chattered and his body shook as if he had the ague. Two or three hundred yards in the shelter of the ti

gather wood. In a quarter of an hour there was a glow in his face, and the big backlog of pitch-filled cedar was a flaming furnace. Darkness settled heavily in the forest, and he was no longer afraid or uncomfortable as[57] he continued to dry his

When the last thread in his clothing was dry Peter crept into this bed. He had no idea of sleeping but made himself

tive significance of what had happened was just beginning to find itself in Peter's head. This night was different from all other nights. The darkness which had gathered heavily about them was different, the fire did not seem as friendly, and his father, smoking his pipe, was ch

5

loudly or its flames leaped too high he shivered, fearing it would betray them. He wondered why his father remained in the light now that they were warm and dry, for the

g. Peter, at last, was beginning to build up the truth. Something terrible must have happened-somewhere-or the police would not be after his father. He had believed the pol

over Peter. If the police said his father was bad they were liars. He hated them, and if the chance came to him he would

McRae put his arm around him and puffed hard at his pipe to keep the firelight from revealing what was in his eyes. The world