How many times he had taken these two over the ridge during the first two weeks, and picked berries while they played at it, or crossed the lake in his canoe to leave them on the shore while he cast for trout, no one but himself knew, and he wasn’t telling.
Even now, with these two strangers about, Old Cy, Chip, and Ray somehow seemed to “flock by themselves.” Old Cy took them canoeing. They paddled up streams entering the lake. He showed them where muskrats were house-building, where mink had runways, and otter had sliding spots; and to forestall a plan of his own, he enlarged upon the fun and profit of trapping here when the time came. If these two young doves cooed a little meantime, he never heard it; if they held hands unduly long, he never saw it; and if they exchanged kisses behind his back–well, it was their own loss if they didn’t.
But these days of mingled romance and tragic happenings, of shooting, fishing, story-telling, and wildwood life, were nearing their end, and one evening Martin announced that on the morrow they would pack their belongings and, escorted by the officers, leave the wilderness.
The next morning Old Cy took Ray aside.
“I want a good square talk with ye, my boy,” he said, “an’ I’m goin’ to do ye a good turn if I kin. Now to begin, I s’pose ye know yer aunt’s goin’ to take Chip to Greenvale ’n’ gin her a chance at the schoolin’ she sartinly needs. Now you’re callatin’ to go ’long ’n’ have a heap o’ fun this winter. I’m goin’ to stay here ’n’ keer for Amzi. This is the situation ’bout as it is. Now you hev got yer eddication, ’n’ the next move is to make yer way in the world ’n’ arn suthin’, an’ ez a starter, I want ye to stay here this winter with me ’n’ trap. The woods round here is jist bristlin’ with spruce gum that is worth a dollar-fifty a pound, easy. We’ve got two months now, ’fore snow gits deep. We kin live on the top shelf in the way o’ fish ’n’ game. We’ll ketch a b’ar and pickle his meat ’n’ smoke his hams, and when spring comes, I’ll take ye out with mebbe five hundred dollars’ worth of furs ’n’ gum ez a beginnin’.
“Thar’s also ’nother side to consider. Chip wants schoolin’, ’n’ she’s got to study night ’n’ day fer the next eight months. If you go back with ’em, an’ go gallivantin’ ’round with her, ez you’re sure to, it won’t be no help to her. I’ve given you two all the chances fer weavin’ the threads o’ ’fect-shun I could this summer, an’ now let’s you ’n’ I turn to and make some money. I’ve asked your uncle ’n’ aunt. They’re willin’, ’n’ now, what do ye say?”
Few country boys with a love for trapping, such as Ray had, ever had a more alluring prospect spread before them. He knew Old Cy was right in all his conclusions, and almost without hesitation he agreed to the plan.
It was far-sighted wisdom on Old Cy’s part, however, in not giving Ray time to reflect, else the magnet of Chip’s eyes on the one hand, and eight months of separation on the other, would have proved too strong, and trap-setting and gum-gathering, with five hundred dollars as reward, would have failed.
As it was, he came near weakening at the last moment when the canoes were packed and Angie and Chip came to take their seats in them.
He and his crude, rude, yet winsome little sweetheart had suffered a brief preliminary parting the evening previous. A good many sweet and silly nothings had been exchanged, also promises, and now the boy’s heart was very sore.