Читать книгу The Copperhead Trail Mystery - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 10

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“It’s this here Miss Wainwright, young man,” Mr. Meggle called from the enclosure. “She wants to speak to you.”

Hal swung a long leg over the edge of the desk and took up the phone. “I feel like a ghost,” he said to her laughingly, “but I’m pretty well, I guess.”

Her deep voice, clear and frank, was full of concern. “Mr. Meggle was just telling me, Hal. You’re very fortunate and I’m glad. But how about the other three—they’ll have a wait for their baggage the same as you? Tell them it’s my wish and also Aunt’s, that they come with you.”

“That’s a pretty big order, Jean,” Hal protested. “They can manage somehow for tonight and tomorrow they can get their camp together. They’re on the trail for gold, you know.”

“So I suspected. Old Timer, who’s a neighbor of ours, said we could expect an advance guard of prospectors by tomorrow. He’ll be quite shocked to hear that the number has dwindled down to three in such an awful manner. I’ll be anxious to hear all about it. And don’t worry about those three young men being too much of an order, Hal. You’re in Canada, remember, and hospitality is a law. Aunt’s just had one of her bad headaches today and I think a houseful will cheer her up. Tsu will be tickled to death to have a tableful for breakfast.”

“All right, Jean. You win. Two of the fellows you won’t like so well, but I’m sure you’ll like Mac.”

“I’m sure I will. Mac sounds like Canada, of which I’m very fond,” she laughed. “I hope you get here before daylight.” Hal said he hoped they could too, and rang off. His mind was weighing the suggestion of Mac sounding like Canada. It rang awfully true for some reason. But then Jean had a way of saying things that made them ring true. She was unusual and Hal liked her more than any other girl. But then he didn’t much care for girls.

“She knows a good horse when she sees one,” he explained to Mr. Meggle for want of conversation. Then he added: “Where’s the horse the Jap brought for me, sir?”

“Oh, tethered outside o’ the back door.”

“Guess I’ll stroll out and look it over,” Hal said with studied nonchalance. He stopped at the door a moment. “Wonder how we can manage it with one horse?”

“Have to double up till we git to my place,” said Mr. Meggle, eyeing him curiously. “Got a mule there, and my own horse’s outside. You can have both if one or the other uv you bring ’em back come morning.”

Hal thanked him and went outside only to find that the loquacious agent was at his heels and soon deep in the merits of his old and weary stallion compared to that of the frisky gray mare owned by Jean Wainwright. He seemed loath to give up the topic and apparently did not notice Hal’s obvious inattention.

There wasn’t a sign of Mac. A brilliant moon was slowly making her way across the eastern skies and lighting up every tree and shrub about them. Hal was worried and sent furtive glances toward a certain trail beyond the railroad station. Mac was hiding somewhere in there, but where? Was he weary of waiting?

Hal had plenty of leisure during the next few hours to ask himself these questions a dozen times. He hadn’t any way of getting word to Mac; Mr. Meggle stayed at his side every moment. The way he stuck around was most provoking and by midnight when Hal was despairing of the situation, he heard the welcome sound of footsteps.

“Eh?” said Mr. Meggle. “That somebuddy comin’?”

“Yes, thank the Lord,” Hal sighed thankfully. “I wish there was an army coming—that’s just the way I feel.”

Presently Mr. Perry and Mr. Doyle appeared at the doorway, bedraggled and weary.