Gently the canoe grounded its bow upon the sand, just where a narrow trail led off among the trees and up the hill. With a great sigh of relief, Hugh stepped ashore, shouldered his pack, and went slowly up through the dawn to his first meeting with Oscar Dansk.
CHAPTER V
OSCAR DANSK
Hugh walked very slowly as he made his way up the path, for he was worn out, weary enough to drop by the wayside and sleep there for half a day. He was stiff from kneeling all night in the canoe, his shoulders were lame from the weight of his pack and from the long miles of paddling, his brain whirled from want of sleep. On he trudged, past the groups of overhanging maples, scarlet and gold after the autumn frosts, past a huge mass of red jasper rock with a spring bubbling out at the foot of it, up the hill at last and to the open space where the cottage stood.
It was a little square building of logs, chinked with plaster, with two small sheds behind it and a chimney of rough field stones. Small and rude as the cottage seemed, it had the same air of neatness and homely comfort that Hugh had noticed about the little Swedish houses in Rudolm. A plume of smoke was rising from the chimney and, at the open window, a white curtain was blowing in the morning wind. Before he reached the door, it opened and Oscar Dansk came out upon the wide stone step. The moment their eyes met Hugh knew they were to become fast friends.
There seemed no more natural thing in the world than to sit down upon the doorstep—Hugh’s tired legs could not have carried him farther—and tell Oscar immediately all about why he had come. The other seemed to understand at once just what had happened, just why Hugh had come to find him and just what he himself was expected to do. He shook his head gravely when he heard how long the Edmonds boys had been gone.
“Five days when you first heard,” he said; “that makes seven now and another night. It is bad, but not hopeless. If they are alive we will find them.”
“Your sister thinks they are alive,” repeated Hugh, for he had already spoken of Linda’s theory about the dog.
“Yes,” replied Oscar, “I know that Nicholas, if anything had happened to his masters, I am certain he would have come back. I think Linda is right.”
Hugh, half blind with weariness as he was, had already begun to notice how like his sister Oscar was. All things that were attractive in her were present in Oscar, with much more besides. There was fire in his blue eyes where hers held only kindliness, there was no heaviness, nor any sadness in his expression, but spirit and courage and love of high adventure. He was taller and straighter than Linda, also, with more clear-cut features. As he sat on the doorstone, with the sun shining on his bright fair hair, and his strong hands clasped upon his knee, he looked as though he were indeed, as Jethro had said, “a person who could see further than others.”