CHAPTER VI.
THE MAN WHO KNEW IT ALL.

A

fter a restless sleep Norman was astir an hour before sunrise. His grandfather was already up and preparing a breakfast for him.

"You maun eat, ma laddie. It seems unco' that ye i maun gang tae meet thae Britishers alone. I fain wad gang wi' ye."

" That cannot be, grandfather. It would not do to leave Rilma here alone. Never fear but I shall come back safely."

As soon as he had eaten hastily of the plain meal, Norman kissed Rilma and taking his gun started to leave the house.

" If the lassie disna mind, I'll walk wi' ye tae the river's bank," said his grandfather. " I'll nae be gane lang, lassie, so hae nae fear."

Norman felt that his grandfather's real object in accompanying him was to get a look, if possible, at the Woodranger, who was expected to meet him on the river bank. But nothing of the kind was said until they came in sight of the stream, when they discovered the forester already on hand. He had crossed over to the east bank, and at sight of Norman said :
" I am glad you are so promptly here, lad; it shows a good mark to be prompt. It always pays to be prompt. As we shall have to go down on this side, I thought I would come over and save — "

Woodranger, with a sudden change in his demeanour unusual to him, stopped in the midst of his speech, to fix his gaze closely on the old Highlander. The latter was eyeing him no less intently. Anxious to break the embarrassing silence, Norman said, quickly:
" My grandfather, Woodranger. He felt so anxious about me that he has come down to see me fairly started."

" So yo' air Woodranger ?" asked Mr. MacDonald, as if such a thing was not possible, while shifting looks of doubt, curiosity, fear, and confidence crossed his features. The forester soon recovered his wonted composure, replying to the other's interrogation :
" Men call me that, MacDonald. I have heerd o' you, and I'm glad to meet you. I hope you have no undue consarn over the lad."

"Th" laddie is puir, Woodranger," cried the old man, putting aside further reserve and grasping the forester's hand. " Yo'll hel' him out o' this trouble?"

" He shall not lack for a friend. I trust the lad will have no great difficulty. Where is the dog, lad?"

" Gone, Woodranger, but I do not know where. I thought perhaps Gunwad took him with him. I did not see him after I met you."

" I see him sneaking through the woods as if he had committed some grievous misdeed, but thought he might be pulling home."

" Ye're no in sympathy wi' thae Britishers ?" asked Mr. MacDonald at this juncture.

" Nay, old man; I'm neutral. It is a foolish quarrel and no good can come o' it."

" Neutral!" exclaimed the old Highlander, to whom, with his stubborn, aggressive nature, such a thing seemed impossible, and then a new shade of misapprehension came over his countenance, as he scrutinised the ranger's rifle.

" A French weapon ! " he exclaimed. " Nae guid can come o' a man's bein' neutral an' a-carryin' a French gun."

" We are in luck, lad," said Woodranger, ignoring the last speech of Mr. MacDonald.
" I l'arned last evening that Captain Blanchard had come to Tyng Township yesterday, so I see him and he says you can be tried without going to Chelmsford. That will save you twenty-five miles o' walking."

" I am glad of that! " exclaimed Norman, "and I hail it as a good omen. Do you hear that, grandfather ? I have not got to go to Chelmsford to have my trial."

Mr. MacDonald only shook his head, seeming too much engrossed over the appearance of the Wood-ranger to reply by words.

" I don't like to cut short any speech you wish to make to the old man, lad, but it's time we were on our way. A mile or more o' the river has run by sence we stopped here. It's an 'arly start that makes an 'arly end to the jarney. Good morning, Mr. MacDonald; have no undue consarn over the lad."

Fully understanding the Woodranger's anxiety to meet Gunwad promptly, Norman hastily caught the hand of his grandfather, as he murmured his goodbye, while the forester moved silently away.

" I jest want to say a word to ye, ma laddie," said Mr. MacDonald, in an undertone. " I dinna ken whut to mak o' this man ca'd Woodranger, but ye canna be owre careful. He carries a French weapon, an' is neutral in a quarrel whin every true Scot shud stan' by his colours. I dinna ken what tae mak o' the man."

With this dubious warning, which no words of Norman could shake, he stood there watching the twain until their forms had disappeared in the distance. Even then he hesitated about starting homeward. His head continued to move back and forth, and his lips became tightly compressed, as if fearful they might allow something to escape that he was anxious to conceal.

Tyng Township comprised a strip of territory three miles wide, and extending six miles along the east bank of the river, so it was not necessary for them to cross over. In fact, that would have necessitated a return to that side before reaching their destination. After leaving his home Norman saw but a few houses for some distance, the land being little more than sand patches, and too poor to support a crop of any kind.

" I do not wonder it is called Old Harrytown," Norman said, as he noticed this, "and they say only the Old Harry could live here."

" Tyng's men got a bad bargain when they got it," said the Woodranger. " Though it may be that they think more of the fish than the soil. They be fat and plenty. The deer, too, are sleek; but they are fading away with the red hunter. Sich be the great unwritten law that a man's associates must go with him."

They had not gone more than a mile before they were met by Gunwad, who showed his satisfaction at seeing them.

" Was afeerd th' feller mought gin ye th' slip, Woodranger."

The forester making no reply to this statement, the three walked on in silence, the appearance of the deer reeve putting an end to all conversation.

Another mile down the stream they began to come in sight of the log houses of the pioneers, who were trying under adverse circumstances to found themselves homes in the new town. As they came in sight of one of these typical homes, they saw a tall, cadaverous man mounted on the top of a blackened log fence surrounding a cleared patch bordering the house. He was bareheaded, and had no covering for his feet, save a generous coating of dirt, and his lank body was clad in a coarse shirt, made, by long contact with the earth, the colour of the soil, and a pair of gray homespun trousers stopping short in their downward career a little below the knees. As he sat there on his elevated perch, his long arms were doubled akimbo over his knees, which stuck up sharp and pointed.

At first it looked as if his occupation was the watching of the gyrations of one of his big toes, as it scraped back and forth on the charred surface of the log, but a closer inspection showed that he was gazing at a patch of broad-leaved plants looking suspiciously like that much despised weed of lane and pasture, the mullein. But if so, it had been cultivated with assiduous care, and had flourished like " the green bay-tree " of the story-writer.

At sight of our party he suddenly checked the movements of his toe, his jaws stopped their rapid grinding, and he cried out in a shrill, piping voice :
" Hello, Ranger! Wot in creation is yer sweeping by fer like a falling hemlock? Ain't fergot an ol' man in his weakness, hev ye ? "

" Not a forgit, Zack Bitlock, but as we have a lettle amazement with 'Squire Blanchard we wanted to be sure and get to him afore he should leave for down the river. A fine morning."

"Mornin's well nough; "bout as ye air mind to look at it. But it's pesky gloomy to me. Say, Ranger, I kalkilate ye mus' be a tol'rable good jedge o' 'backer?"

"Mebbe I know the leaf from dock root, though I can't saay as I'm much o' a jedge o' the quality, Zack, seeing I never---"

" Look a-here, Ranger! I want yer honest opine consarnin' thet air stuff, " pointing, as he spoke, to the rows of green, broad-leaved plants adorning his primitive garden, and comprising most of its contents.

Approaching the fence, the Woodranger looked over, saying, after a brief survey of the scene:
" I see leetle but mullein, though I must say, while not claiming to be an apt jedge in sich matters, it has made a good growth. How is it, Zack, you give so much 'tention to raising sich useless truck, though it be said it is excellent for cattle?"

" It's my gol-danged foolishness, Ranger, which made me spend my valer'ble time raising sich truck. I ain't got no cattle to feed it. My ol' woman 'lowed it was mullein a goodish spell ago, but I larfed at her. An' then, when I see thet she wuz right an' I wuz wrong, like the hog I wuz, I had to hol' my mouth and keep on growing mullein ! Gol dang ! To think, I, Zack Bitlock, in my sound mind an' common sense, sh'u'd be a-weedin' out an' prunin' up an' 'tendin' mullein, thinkin' all th' while 'twas 'backer ! "

" How did it happen, Zack ? " asked Woodranger, who could not help smiling at the look of utter disgust and shame on the other's wrinkled countenance.

" It all kem o' my blamed smartness ! Ye see I figger yit out like this. Joe Butterfield, he don't pertend to know more'n other folks, an' so las' year he kem to me an' wanted to know what was th' bes' thing to make taters grow. He had seed mine climbin' like all creation, and seein' he wuz too blamed green to raise ennything but fun fer his betters, I tole him th' very bes' thing was rotten hemlock, an' to put a chockin' handful in each hill. Well, what did th' dried-in-the-oven fool do but follow my 'vice, only he put a double portion in each hill, so as to beat me at my own game, I s'pose. I larfed to myself all th' while 'em taters didn't stick up a top. Ye see th' hemlock wuz so durned dryin' it jess bakfd the taters afore they c'u'd sprout, Joe laid it to th' seed, an' I s'posed thet wuz the las' o' it, 'ceptin' a good stock o' jokes I had laid in fer spare talk with Joe.

" But I can see now th' critter was sharper'n I 'lowed, an' he mus' hev smelled a mice. So when I kem to 'quire fer backer plants he gin me more'n I wanted. Leastways he give me what I s'posed wuz backer plants, an' now, drat my pictur'! ef I ain't been 'tendin' an' nussin' 'em blamed ol' mulleins, un' a-workin' my jaws all th' while, thinkin' what a Thanksgivin' I'd hev chowin' th' backer. Oh! th' fool ingineuity o' some men ! "

Smiling at the evident disappointment and chagrin of Zack Bitlock, Woodranger started on, when the other called out to him :
" Say! seems to me ye hev got a smart start fer th' shootin'-match."

" I can't say that I've given the matter a thought, Zack. Been away perambulating the forests for a good space o' time."

" A shootin'-match, an' ye not know yit, Ranger ? I do vum! thet's amazin'. But there is to be a tall shoot at th' Pines this mornin'. Cap'en Goffe is lo be there, an' Dan Stevens ; an' I overheerd las' evenin' Rob Rogers wuz to kem. Everybuddy'll be on hand. Coorse ye'll go now, Ranger?"

"Onsartain, Zack, onsartain. If we have time the lad and I may be there. Good morning."

" Ye may be thar, Woodranger, an' I see no reason w'y ye shouldn't; but with th' youngster it'll be different. I reckon he'll be fur from hyur then, 'less my plans miscarry," said Gunwad, who had been silent.

Without noticing this speech, the forester moved ahead at a rate of speed which showed he was anxious to make up for the few minutes lost in conversation with Goodman Bitlock. Norman kept close beside him, while Gunwad, the deer reeve, followed at his heels.

Zack Bitlock did not shift his position on the fence until he had watched them out of sight, when he left his perch, exclaiming :
" Blamed queer ef th' ol' Ranger is goin' to er shoot an' won't own yit! Thar's sumthin' afoot. But I'll l'arn their dodge or I ain't up to shucks," and without further delay he shuffled down the road after the others.
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