“I know they did it,” she said time and again, “an’ I know mother was one on ’em. I wished I cud do suthin’ to show ’em how thankful I am ’n’ how happy I am now.” And Ray, astonished that so keen-witted and courageous a girl should have such a fantastic belief, made no comment.
A more serious subject was under discussion in the other canoe, meantime, as to the future disposition of Chip herself.
“I feel it my duty to take care of her,” Angie said, after relating her conversation with Chip and that morning’s incident. “She is a homeless, outcast waif, needing education and everything else to Christianize her. We must bring her to the settlement, but to turn her adrift might mean leaving her to a life of vice, even if she escapes her brutal father and this worse half-breed. Then, again, I am not sure that her parentage will bear inspection. She has told me something about her earlier life, and about her mother, who evidently loved her. One course only seems plain to me,–to take care of and educate this unfortunate.”
“I am willing, my dear,” responded Martin, who, like all new husbands, was ready to concede anything, “only I suggest that you go a little slow. You can’t tell yet what this girl will develop into. She has had the worst possible parentage, without doubt. Her life at Tim’s Place, and contact with lumbermen or worse, has been no benefit. She is grossly ignorant, and may be ill-tempered, and once given to understand that you have practically adopted her, you can’t–or won’t–have the heart to turn her off. Now we are to return to the lake and remain a month, as you know, and in the meantime, what will you do with this girl?”
This was reducing Angie’s philanthropic impulses to a focus, as it were, and it set her thinking. Something more of this discussion followed, and finally Angie announced her decision.
“We must take the girl back with us,” she said, “and begin her reformation at the camp. If she shows any aptitude and willingness to obey, we will take her to Greenvale. If not, you must arrange to get her into some institution.”
“And suppose the half-breed finds where she is, what then?” inquired Martin.
“What do you say, Levi?” he added, turning to his guide, “you know this fellow; what will he be apt to do?”
“I s’pose you know what a panther’ll do, robbed of her cub,” Levi answered, “an’ how a bull moose acts in runnin’ time, mebbe. Wal, this Pete is worse’n both on ’em biled into one, I callate. If you’re goin’ ter take the gal back, you’ve got to keep her shady, or some day you’ll find her missin’. Besides, Pete, ez I told ye, don’t know the meanin’ o’ law and is handy with a gun.”
But Martin did not quite share Levi’s fears, and so Angie’s decision was agreed to. Levi’s advice to “keep shady” was accepted, however, and all through that summer’s somewhat thrilling experiences it was the rule of conduct.