Joan of Arc of the North Woods | Page 7

and
those were spouses and helpers of woods cooks, mostly.
Here was a maid of the big city showing an interest disquietingly
acute--her glowing eyes and parted lips revealed her emotions. At the
moment he was not able to separate himself, as a personality, from the
subject which he had brought up. Just what there was about him or the
subject to arouse her so strangely he did not pause to inquire of himself,
for his thoughts were not coherent just then; he, too, was stirred by her
nearer propinquity as she leaned forward, questioning him eagerly.
He replied, telling what he was but not who he was; he felt a twinge of
disappointment because she did not venture to probe into his identity.
Her questions were concerned with the north country as a region. At
first her quizzing was of a general nature. Then she narrowed the field
of inquiry.
"You say the Tomah waters are parallel with the Noda basin! Do you
know many folks over in the Noda region?"
"Very few. I have kept pretty closely on my own side of the
watershed."

"Isn't there a village in the Noda called Adonia?"
"Oh yes! It's the jumping-off place--the end of a narrow-gauge
railroad."
"You have been in Adonia?"
"A few times."
"I had--there were friends of mine--they were friends of a man in
Adonia. His name was--let's see!" He wondered whether the faint
wrinkle of a frown under the bronze-flecked hair on her forehead was
as much the expression of puzzled memory as she was trying to make it
seem; there did appear something not wholly ingenuous in her looks
just then. "Oh, his name is Flagg."
"Echford Flagg?"
"Yes, that's it. My friends were very friendly with him, and I'd like to
be able to tell them----" She hesitated.
"You have given me some news," he declared, bluntly; in his mood of
the day he was finding no good qualities in mankind. "I never heard of
Eck Flagg having any friends. Well, I'll take that back! I believe he's
ace high among the Tarratine Indians up our way; they have made him
an honorary chief. But it's no particular compliment to a white man's
disposition to be able to qualify as an Indian, as I look at it."
This time he was not in doubt about the expression on her face; a
sudden grimace like grief wreathed the red lips and there was more
than a suspicion of tears in her eyes. He stared at her, frankly amazed.
"If I have stepped on toes I am sorry. I never did know how to talk to
young ladies without making a mess sooner or later."
She returned no reply, and he went on with his food to cover his
embarrassment.
"Do you know Mr. Flagg?" she asked, after the silence had been

prolonged.
"Not very well. But I know about him."
"What especially?"
"That he's a hard man. He never forgets or forgives an injury. Perhaps
that's why he qualified so well as an Indian."
She straightened in her chair and narrowed those gray eyes. "Couldn't
there have been another reason why he was chosen for such an honor?"
"I beg your pardon for passing along to you the slurs of the north
country, miss----" he paused but she did not help him with her name.
"It's mostly slurs up there," he went on, with bitterness, "and I get into
the habit, myself. The Indians did have a good reason for giving Flagg
that honor. He is the only one in the north who has respected the
Indians' riparian rights, given by treaty and then stolen back. He pays
them for hold-boom privileges when his logs are on their shores. They
are free to come and go on his lands for birch bark and basket
stuff--he's the only one who respects the old treaties. That's well known
about Flagg in the north country. It's a good streak in any man, no
matter what folks say about his general disposition."
"I'm glad to hear you say that much!"
She pushed back her chair slightly and began to take stock of her
possessions. A sort of a panic came upon him. There were a lot of
things he wanted to say, and he could not seem to lay a tongue to one
of them. He stammered something about the wet day and wondered
whether it would be considered impudence if he offered to escort her,
holding over her the umbrella or carrying her parcel. He had crude
ideas about the matter of squiring dames. He wanted to ask her not to
hurry away. "Do you live here in New York--handy by?"
The cafeteria was just off lower Broadway, and she smiled. He realized
the idiocy of the question.

"I work near here!