“Me?” exclaimed the stout scout, drawing in a long breath. “Well, now, I’d just be afraid to hear the news from headquarters, you know. What if they had lost their lovely home and all because of my stupid forgetfulness, d’ye think I could stand it to stay up here weeks longer, havin’ fun? No, I’ve got it all mapped out, and know just what I want to say to the cashier. And believe me, I’m hopin’ for the best, fellers. Have a little pity on me, won’t you?”
“We do feel for you, old fellow,” said Step Hen, who was drawn toward Bumpus more than ever, on account of this unconscious flattery regarding his new gun; and besides, boy though he was, he could see that the other was really laboring under a heavy strain, and actually suffering from the pangs of remorse.
What the number of miles might be they covered that day, no one dared even guess; but although they fairly flew at times, owing to the combined work of current and paddles, another night had to be spent on the way. But about noon of the second day they realized that they were getting on the borders of civilization again. A dog barking was the first sign, and then came the clarion crow of a barnyard rooster.
Afterwards a house appeared, then several more; and far beyond the spire of a church reared itself against the clear heavens.
Bumpus looked frightfully pale—for him. He knew that the time had come when he might learn the facts as connected with that letter, the disposal of which he had never been able to solve; since the more he tried the greater became his confusion of ideas.
And about the hour of noon the canoes were turned in toward the shore, for they saw the town of Grindstone before them, with the railroad leading southwest in the direction of the homes that were so far away.
Hardly waiting for the landing to be made, Bumpus got ashore, and was seen hurrying off into the town. They knew that he had in mind the station, where he could send off a hurry message; and Step Hen, receiving a word from Thad, hastened after the fat boy, so as to make sure he did not get into any trouble.
Once at the station Bumpus, who had made a rough draft of what he wanted to wire the cashier, gave it over to the keeping of the agent, and asked that it be sent at once. He would sit down and wait for the answer.
The clicking of the nimble telegraph key was about the only sound that disturbed the silence in that station, for trains were evidently few and far between on the Aroostook railroad.
It may have been an hour that dragged past, and it may have been much more, Bumpus declared he had aged terribly since coming there; and Step Hen tried all he knew how, to keep the other’s spirits up.