“I do not want gratitude,” returned Oscar quickly. “What would I have to say to them if they tried to thank me? No, when I see these hillsides covered with the grain for which the whole world is crying; when I can sit here on my doorstep and see many red roofs warm in the sunshine, or the moonlight making sharp black shadows of the pointed gables or yellow lights shining from the windows there, and there, and there; when I can think that all within are warm and safe and happy, why, I can ask for nothing more on earth, except—except, perhaps, that little black Hendrik might be back again.”
Nicholas, who had been sitting on the grass beside them while they stood and talked, came now to rub against Oscar and push his great head under his hand.
“You are a good fellow, Nicholas,” said Oscar, patting his curly shoulder, “but you are not my Hendrik. It is strange how a man and a little black dog can learn to love each other when each is all the other has.”
There was much hurrying to and fro before dawn next morning when the journey was actually to begin. There was carrying of loaded packs down to the canoe, there was running back for things forgotten, there were many instructions given by every one to every one else. The day promised to be a clear one, although now the sky was dark and the water gray. John Edmonds was made comfortable in the bottom of the boat; the packs were put on board; there was no time for elaborate farewells, even when it came to pushing out from shore.
“Shove her easy,” directed Dick, and—
“A little more,” said Oscar. “There, now we are afloat. Good-by, good-by.”
His paddle dipped, the canoe shot forward, a sharp ripple rose beneath her bow. The two boys stood watching as she moved steadily away. The water was turning from gray to silver and shining in the morning light, while a gold and scarlet glow behind Jasper Peak showed where the sun was soon to rise. Hugh and Dick still stood as the boat dwindled to a black speck on the glittering lake, turned into Harbin’s Channel and disappeared. Even then they waited, shading their eyes, hoping for one more sight of it. Finally Hugh heaved a long sigh and the two turned to look at each other. The valley of the Promised Land was their very own, to hold or to lose.
CHAPTER X
FIRST BLOOD TO THE PIRATE
On returning to the cottage, the first thing that Hugh did was to mark off the date on the calendar just as he had seen Oscar do every morning.