As the last note ascended and faded on the throbbing air, Connie’s embarrassment returned. At Donald’s words of praise a scarlet flush dyed her cheeks. She returned the instrument to its case, and, with eyes downcast, resumed her seat in the darkened corner. Wainwright’s eyes held a look of deep tenderness as he thanked her in a voice that was like a caress.
As they said good-night Donald saw that their host’s face was again shrouded in deep melancholy. The light of a waning moon threw ghost-like shadows as they stumbled down the narrow trail through the aromatic woods. Save for the drip of water, a brooding hush hung over the forest. The trail was soft with needles, on which their feet made only a softened beating. In the nave of huge conifers the solemnity of the forest made speech seem almost irreverent.
Near the centre of the tunnel-like trail, where the shadows deepened, Donald stopped short with every sense alert. Without knowing why, he suddenly felt a quick sense of danger. A dark form rose in front of them and slunk into the woods.
“The blinkin’ Indian,” whispered Andy.
In passing the spot where the Breed had disappeared, Donald had an uncanny feeling that the burning eyes of Connie’s devoted guardian were fixed on him and he felt a crinkly chill creep up his spine. It was with a feeling of relief that they emerged from the obscurity of the timber and caught the friendly gleam of light from their cabin window on the lake-shore far below.
CHAPTER X
The following day their work brought Donald and his companions to the top of the falls near Connie’s fairy nest. The melting snows from above had swelled the water until it filled the narrow gorge to the brim.
As Donald viewed the thundering river he was impressed by the potential power in the mighty surge of water that flung itself in a cascade of foam to the rocks below. “Good place for a dam!” he shouted to Gillis, as he pointed to the narrow canyon and then to the slanting walls that formed a natural basin.
That night, while Andy pursued his studies on flowers, Donald covered several sheets of notepaper with drawings and figures. He became so deeply engrossed in his work that he sat up long after the others had gone to bed. At breakfast he placed the result of his night’s work near Gillis’s plate. “Jack, I believe we could put in an electric mill that would be successful,” he said earnestly.
Gillis studied the papers carefully, then passed them to Douglas. “Might be done,” he said non-committally. “I don’t know nothin’ ’bout electricity; do you?”