Читать книгу The Girl at Bullet Lake - H. A. Cody - Страница 9
ОглавлениеBullet House
A short distance from the main highway Peter Pendle's house stood upon a gentle elevation surrounded by birch, maple, and elm trees. It was a well-kept place, the house and barn showing watchful care. A garden of old-fashioned flowers greeted all who passed, and tourists often stopped to admire the beautiful sight.
The morning after the conversation at the rectory a van stood near the front door of the Pendle house. To a stranger it seemed a peculiar affair, but to the people of Glengrow, and far beyond, it was a most familiar object. Upon each side it told in big letters the business of its owner:
PETER PENDLE'S PANACEA,
A SURE CURE FOR ACHES, SPRAINS, AND BRUISES
OF MAN AND BEAST.
TRY A BOTTLE—ONLY 50 CENTS.
This Panacea was a liniment, with a salve as a side-line. It was known for its remarkable curing qualities, and was held in high esteem by farmers and others throughout the country. Peter had received many testimonials which he carefully preserved in an old scrap-book. Several were from veterinary surgeons, and these he prized most of all.
The secret of this Panacea remained with the Pendles.
"It was given to my grandmother by an old Indian squaw," Peter often explained. "She made some use of it, an' so did my parents. But they didn't fully realise its possibilities. It's queer how some folks will let fine opportunities slip through their fingers. But Sarah an' me have turned it to good account, an' we've done well."
This morning, however, Peter was not thinking about his Panacea as he stood in front of his house with Mrs. Nairn by his side. He was watching a man walking rapidly up the road.
"It's yer brother, at last," he drawled. "Why, he's been half the mornin' there. I was beginnin' to fear that Si had eaten him up."
"I was getting somewhat anxious, too," Mrs. Nairn smilingly replied. "I am afraid that we have been delaying you, Peter. We should have been at the lake before this."
"Oh, I'm in no hurry. It doesn't matter so long as I'm back in time to meet the boat. Our visitor is comin' to-night."
"Is everything ready for her? You have made such a nice place out of your old shed."
"Haven't I, now!" and Peter looked with admiration upon his handiwork. "She wants to live by herself in a bright, airy place. Sarah's got it all clean an' the furniture set to rights. The walls are bare, but we got orders to leave them that way. Miss Rowland will bring her own pictures with her, so she said, an' she will paint others while here. I never expected to live so near to a real artist, but one never knows what will happen next."
"Do you know anything about Miss Rowland, Peter?"
"Nothin', except what my old city friend, Jim Hardy, wrote. He knows her, an' considers her a very fine girl. But here's yer brother, lookin' rather serious. We kin get off at once."
Robert was unusually quiet as they drove along the road leading to Bullet Lake. Their progress was slow, owing to the rough places and the corduroy bridges where Peter had to be very careful. The van swayed and bumped a great deal, but it was a strong car and accustomed to bad roads.
"You are a good driver, Peter," Mrs. Nairn complimented. "It is wonderful how you manage on this road."
"It's the car, Madam. Why, it's almost human an' knows just what to do. The other day a tourist read the letters on the sides an' asked me if I was Peter Pan. I wonder what the feller meant. Who is Peter Pan, anyway?"
"He's a fairy," Mrs. Nairn explained. "He's a queer little chap, and does magical things. There is a book about him which tells how he caused three children to fly away to a strange place. The words 'Peter' and 'Panacea' on your van must have suggested Peter to the tourist."
"Most likely they did, Madam. An' it's a good name, too, fer this car has been a real fairy to me, an' has carried me to many queer places which I could not visit with my old horse an' waggon. I must read that book about Peter Pan some day."
Mrs. Nairn enjoyed the scenery along this back-land road. Most of the way was through a thick growth of sturdy birch and maple trees, with here and there a few pines and firs. She wondered about her brother's silence, as he was usually so full of fun and animation.
"What is the matter, Bob?" she at length asked. "You haven't said a word since we started. Did Mr. Acres bewitch you?"
Robert aroused himself and laughed good-naturedly.
"Not at all, Nell. I found him very interesting, and we had quite a chat."
"Ye did!" Peter exclaimed. "What on earth did ye talk about? Money?"
"Ships. Mr. Acres has a fine model of a clipper ship. I was surprised at the number of books he has about the sea, and he knows them by heart. But——."
Robert paused and gazed thoughtfully before him.
"But what?" his sister questioned.
"The man is a mystery to me. He was most affable when we were talking about ships, and I thought the neighbors had misjudged him. But when I had paid him for four weeks' use of his house at Bullet Lake, I asked him if he knew how it had received its name. At once his manner changed and he glared at me most furiously. I realised that I had made a mistake, so was glad to come away. I am certain that the story of his life would reveal something worth while, and I must find out what it is."
"I guess ye'll have some job ahead of ye, Mister," Peter drawled. "If ye kin learn the real history of that man, ye'll be a wonder."
"Has anyone ever tried?"
"Well, we've all done a lot of wonderin', but it ended at that, fer that was as far as we could go."
"But I intend to go deeper than wondering and talking."
"Good luck to ye, then, Mister. But here we are right at the lake."
Bullet House was a snug abode, situated in a small clearing among the trees. Both Mrs. Nairn and Robert were delighted with the place. From the verandah which faced the water, there was an excellent view of the lake and the wooded hills beyond.
"Isn't this glorious!" Robert exclaimed.
"It is, and I wish I could stay here a while with you," his sister replied. "I would then be away from the gossipping tongues which wag about everything I do and say."
"They'd wag all the more, Madam," Peter declared. "What a choice bit of news it would be if you should live here. It would certainly be great fun to hear what folks would say."
"But why should they, Peter? It would be none of their business."
"Maybe not. But they'd make it their business, a'right. An' besides, you are the parson's wife, so you must expect to be talked about."
"Why should you mind what people say, Nell?" Robert queried. "Let them talk if they want to. I know it annoys you. But that is the penalty of having such an independent spirit. Anyway, I am not going to let wagging tongues interfere with me in this snug retreat. Peter Pan has brought us here, and I am going to enjoy myself."
"But Peter Pan led those children into great dangers, remember. There were pirates, Indians, and that terrible crocodile which swallowed a clock. I hope there will not be such enemies here."
"All I can think about now, Nell, is something to eat. This is the first time in weeks that I have been really hungry. What have you in that basket?"
"Something you like, Bob. An old-fashioned strawberry shortcake. I made two, but left one home for Andrew and the children. I hope they are making out all right. Suppose we have our luncheon right here on the verandah. There must be a small table in the house. While you men are looking for one, I shall unpack the basket."
"What about the tea?" Robert asked. "We'll need a fire to boil some water."
"I have brought a big thermos bottle full of tea, Bob, so there will be plenty for the three of us."
"Good fer you, Madam," Peter shouted. "It takes a woman to think of everything."
A quarter of an hour later they were cosily seated around the table that had been found, and enjoying the good things Mrs. Nairn had prepared.
"This is life," Robert declared, as he helped himself to a sandwich. "I know I shall be well in a few days in a place like this, with nothing to disturb me. Isn't that so, Peter Pan?"
"Don't be too sure, young man. Si Acres might be prowlin' around keepin' an eye upon ye."
"Oh, I'll soon send him about his business. This place is mine for a month, so I won't stand any nonsense from him."
"H'm, ye may think so now, Mister, but ye don't know Si as well as I do. It's not so easy to send him about his business when he gets on the rampage. An' if Si isn't prowlin' around, maybe ye'll have ghosts visitin' ye."
"Ghosts!" Mrs. Nairn exclaimed. "Ghosts here?"
"That's what folks say. They've seen old Tom Rayton an' his wife walkin' around among the trees an' peerin' in through the windows at night. I guess it was only imagination, though. It's wonderful how some people get scared an' see strange sights out in the woods."
"Who was Tom Rayton?" Robert inquired, now keenly interested.
"Oh, he was the man who built this house an' cleared the land. He had quite a farm here at one time, but it's all grown up in trees now. I didn't know him, but the old people have told me that he was a quiet, hard-working man an' minded his own affairs. An' so was his wife. They had one child, an' I have often wondered what became of her. How anyone could shoot a man such as Tom Rayton must have been is beyond me."
Robert leaned eagerly forward, his eyes glowing with animation.
"What! did someone try to shoot him?" he demanded.
"He tried an' did, so I've been told. It was a wild night in the fall, an' the Raytons were settin' right in there before an open fire. Mrs. Rayton had the baby on her lap, an' Tom was seated by her side. Suddenly there was a bang of a gun outside, a bullet tore through the window sash an' struck Tom in the shoulder."
"Go on," Robert ordered, as Peter paused. "What happened next?"
"Well, all I know is that Mrs. Rayton had to go all the way to the shore fer the doctor who lived there."
"Alone!" Mrs. Nairn exclaimed.
"Sure, Madam. Who else was there to go with her? Yes, she went through the darkness an' the rain. It must have been a terrible trip, especially for a woman. Anyway, she got the doctor, an' he did what he could fer Tom. But the poor feller never fully recovered. His arm was always weak, so he couldn't work as well as before."
"But who shot him?" Robert questioned.
Peter shook his head and gazed thoughtfully out over the lake. He then filled and lighted his pipe.
"The one who did the shootin' was never found," he at length explained. "The Raytons didn't have an enemy, so far as anyone could tell, so the whole affair remains a mystery to this day."
"Perhaps the shooting was accidental," Mrs. Nairn suggested. "Someone may have been hunting and fired at a moose."
"Perhaps so, an' that was what many thought. But it was a queer night fer anyone to be huntin'. I could never believe that idea."
"And what happened to the Raytons?"
"What happened? I almost hate to tell ye. That shootin' was just the beginnin' of their troubles. Tom had a friend, a city man, who visited him from time to time to fish in the lake an' to hunt. Well, it seems that the friend got Tom to back his note fer a considerable amount. He then failed in business, so Tom was called upon to make good. He didn't have the money, so his place was sold. That broke Tom down completely, an' he didn't last long after that. He died in less than a year, an' left his wife an' baby alone in this house."
"Who bought the place?" Robert inquired.
"Si Acres, of course. He was the only one in Glengrow who had enough money. An' he made a fortune, too, out of the logs he had cut. Just think of that! An' what good has the money done the old skinflint?"
"What became of Mrs. Rayton and the baby?"
"Si turned them out, an' they went away to the States. What happened to them I never heard."
"And who was Rayton's false friend?"
"Now, let me see. I have heard his name, and I think it was Tray, but am not sure. He went away, too, an' I did hear that he set up in business again, an' did well. But I never saw him. I'm not positive though about his name. 'Tray' doesn't sound just like it. Maybe it was Gray, although I think it began with a T."
"Tray will do very well, Peter, for it suggests the word 'traitor,' and he must have been one, all right. I am going now to have a look at that window. Is the mark of the bullet there yet?"
"It is, an' that is the way this place got its name."
