CHAPTER X
“A swelled heart may cost ye money, but a swelled head’ll cost ye ten times more.”–Old Cy Walker.
An unexpected canoe entering a lake so secluded and so seldom visited as this lake must needs awaken the keenest surprise, and especially in the case of a party situated as this one was. Ray, who had just returned from a berry-picking trip over at the “blow down,” and Old Cy, carrying his suggestive rifle, were at the landing some time before this canoe reached it, while Angie and Chip waited almost breathlessly on the cabin piazza. A stout, bare-headed Indian, clad in white man’s raiment, was paddling. He glanced at the two awaiting him at the landing, with big black, emotionless eyes, and then up to the cabin.
As his canoe now grated on the sandy beach close by, he laid aside his paddle, stepped forward and out, drew his craft well up, and folding his arms glanced at Old Cy again, as if waiting for a welcome. None was needed, however, for on the instant, almost, came an exclamation of joy from Chip, and with a “Hullo, Poppy Tomah,” she was down the bank, with both her hands in his.
A faint smile of welcome spread over his austere face as he looked down at the girl, but not a word, as yet, came.
Old Cy, quick to see that he was a friend, now advanced.
“We’re glad to see ye,” he said, “an’ as ye seem to be a friend o’ the gal’s, we’ll make ye welcome.”
The Indian bowed low, and a “How do,” like a grunt, was his answer. A calm, slow, motionless type of a now almost extinct race, as he seemed to be, he would utter no word or move a step farther until invited. But now, led by Chip, he advanced up the path.
“It’s Tomah, old Poppy Tomah,” she said with pride, as Angie rose to meet them, “and he’s the only body who was ever good to me.”