For many Summers the feud of the creek existing between the men of the two towns required the personal attention and made frequent claims upon the fistic powers of Blakely. All the trouble had been caused by the whey-tainted waters of the creek, which menaced the dairies of the men at The Gore. Chuckling with great glee, old Bill would listen to his neighbors repeat the story current over at The Gore, how upon a certain dark night he (Blakely) had pulled the plug from the whey-tank at the cheese factory on The Front and allowed its soured contents to course slowly down through the stream. In the controversies with his enemies following the perpetration of these midnight escapades at the four corners Bill Blakely had heretofore by his convincing arguments successfully combatted their charge. After one of these discussions with him the men from The Gore returned to their clansmen bearing to them, besides a pair of discolored optics, the best wishes of the men at The Front.
But of late the tables seemed to be turning. A new condition of affairs had developed, and the arguments which hitherto had stood Blakely in critical times successfully failed now to give him the same degree of satisfaction over his foes from The Gore.
CHAPTER VI.
Donald Visits the Gossip Club.
Up to this time the absence of Andy Cameron from The Front formed only a topic of minor discussion before the smithy’s. It was on one of the evenings which marked the end of the outdoor sessions of the gossip club when Laughing Donald presented himself shyly at the outskirts of the group. Weeks had elapsed since he had appeared there before. Until of late, each night of the weary months and years of waiting for the return of the absent brother, he had haunted the blacksmith’s shop, where the group of news-gatherers met to exchange notes. At first they welcomed him as a valuable addition to their circle. William Fraser, the carpenter, found in him an attentive listener to the “small talk” he gathered from the country side. The remarks Donald overheard upon his early visits at the four corners concerning his family he carried to his invalid wife, and then to Barbara and Dan up at the Nole.
Upon this night he came slowly down the hill along the road which partially hid the blacksmith’s shop from view. The group around the smithy’s door was surprised at his coming. The timid nature of the man showed itself in each hesitating step, while in his large, fawn-like eyes was an appealing look, as if he were a pet animal wishing to be taken by his master from the tormenting pranks of a gang of youthful bandits. In his nervous excitement Donald always laughed—not loudly, but in showing his perfect, white teeth, he gurgled softly the sound which was responsible for the distinguishing feature of his name in Glengarry, Laughing Donald.
“Well! if here ain’t Laughing Donald,” exclaimed Fraser, the carpenter, in an insinuating whisper, and a hush fell upon the group. “I wonder if he would like to know,” he continued, in an undertone, “that Nick Perkins, the tax collector, says all the Camerons on The Front will be working the ‘county farm’ in six months’ time?” At that moment a large, curly head, crowned by the remnants of a straw hat, was protruded through the jamb of the half-opened door of the shop.