The Lady of Big Shanty | Page 2

it at the first glance. What they
saw approaching with his arm in their host's was a young man of
twenty-three, straight as an arrow, with the eyes of an eagle; whose
clean-cut features were so full of human understanding that both the
actor and Keene fell to wondering if Randall was not joking when he
labeled him as hailing from so primitive a settlement as Moose River.
To these qualities there was added the easy grace of a man of the world
in the pink of condition. Only his dark gray pepper-and-salt
clothes--they had been purchased in Utica the day before--confirmed
Randall's diagnosis, and even these fitted him in a way that showed
both his good taste and his common sense. The introductions over and
the party seated, Randall turned again to his friend.
"I worried about you, Billy; what happened?"
"Oh, we had a washout just this side of Utica, and the train was nearly
three hours late. But I had no trouble," he said with a quiet smile. "I
came down a-foot--let's see--Fourth Avenue, isn't it? As soon as I saw
the Park I knew I was on the right trail," he laughed, his white teeth
gleaming in contrast with his nut-brown skin.
"Oh, I'd trust you anywhere in the world, trail or no trail. That's the way
you got me out of Bog Eddy that night, and that's the way you saved
Sam Thayor. He's coming, you know. Wants to meet you the worst

kind. I'm keeping you for a surprise, but he'll hug himself all over when
he finds out it's you."
The young man raised his eyes in doubt.
"Thayor? I don't know as I--"
"Why, of course you remember the Thayors, Billy! They were at Long
Lake three or four summers ago."
"Oh! a short, thick-set man, with grayish hair?" replied Holcomb in his
low, well-modulated voice--the voice of a man used to the silence of
the big woods. "Let's see," he mused--"wasn't it he that cut himself so
badly with an axe over at Otter Pond? Yes, I remember."
"So does Thayor, Billy, and it'll be a good many years before he forgets
it," declared Jack. "You saved his life, he says. That's one thing he
wants to see you for, and another is that he's played out and needs a
rest."
"Bless me!" cried Brompton in the tragic tones of his profession. "You
saved his life, me boy?"
Holcomb, for the first time, appeared embarrassed.
"Well, that's mighty good of him to think so, but I didn't do much," he
replied modestly. "Now I come to think of it, he was badly cut and I
helped him down to Doc' Rand's at Bog River. That was, as I figure it,
about three years ago--wasn't it, Randall?"
"You mean," returned Randall, "that you took him down on your back,
and if you hadn't Sam Thayor would have bled to death."
"Bless my soul!" cried the actor.
"Well, you see," continued Holcomb ignoring the interruption, "there
are some that can handle an axe just as easily as some fellows can
fiddle, and again there are some that can't. It's just a little knack, that's
all, gentlemen, and, of course, Mr. Thayor wasn't used to chopping."

"The only thing Sam Thayor can handle is money," interposed Keene.
"He's got millions, Billy--millions!"
"Millions," chuckled Randall; "I should think so. He owns about five of
'em." As he spoke he half rose from his chair and waved his hand to a
well-dressed, gray-haired man whose eyes were searching the crowded
hall. "Thayor!" he shouted.
As the new-comer moved closer the whole group rose to greet him.
"I'm afraid, my dear Jack, I've kept you all waiting," the banker began.
"A special meeting of the Board detained me longer than I had
anticipated. I hope you will forgive me. I am not usually late, I assure
you, gentlemen. This for me?" and he picked up his waiting cocktail.
Holcomb, although his eyes had not wavered from Thayor, had not yet
greeted him. That a man so quiet and unostentatious belonged to the
favoured rich was a new experience to him. He was also waiting for
some sign of recognition from the financial potentate, the democracy of
the woods being in his blood.
Randall waited an instant and seeing Thayor's lack of recognition
blurted out in his hearty way:
"Why, it's Holcomb, Sam; Billy Holcomb of Moose River."
Thayor turned and formally extended his hand.
"Oh, I beg your pardon! I--" then his whole manner changed. "Why,
_Holcomb_!" he exclaimed with delightful surprise. "Oh, I'm so glad to
see you! And--er--your dear father--how is he?"
"First rate, thank you, Mr. Thayor. It seems kind of natural to see you
again. Father was speaking about you the very day he left.