“And now,” said Ide, slamming his safe door and whirling the knob, “it’s past supper-time and my folks are waitin’. And it’s settled that you stay. I say, it’s settled! Where else would you stop in this God-forsaken bunch of shacks? I’ve got a big house and something to eat. Come along, Mr. Wade! I’m hungry, and we’ll do the rest of our talkin’ on the road.”
The young man followed him without a word. And thus entered Dwight Wade into the life of Castonia, and into the battle of strong men in the north woods.
In front of the store, as they issued, the “It-’ll-git-ye Club” was still in session, as though waiting for something. They got what they were waiting for.
“Boys,” announced their satisfied “mayor,” “I want to introduce to you my new partner, Mr. Dwight Wade—though he don’t really need any introduction in this region after to-day. Bub!” he called to a youngster, “get a wheelbarrow and carry Mr. Wade’s duffle up to my house.” He pointed to the young man’s meagre baggage that had been thrown off the tote wagon.
As Wade turned away he caught the keen eye of Prophet Eli fixed on him. The eye was a bit wild, but there was humor there, too. And the cracked falsetto of the old man’s voice followed him as he walked away beside his new sponsor:
“Oh, the little brown bull came down from the mountain,
Shang, ro-ango, whango-wey!
And as he was feelin’ salutatious,
Chased old Pratt a mile, by gracious,
Licked old Shep and two dog Towsers,
Then marched back home with old Pratt’s trousers.
Whango-whey!”
“Yes, as I was tellin’ you a spell ago—just a little cracked!” apologized Ide. “There’s my house, there! The one with the tower. It would look better to me, Mr. Wade, if only my wife had lived to enjoy it with me.” But his eyes lighted at sight of his daughter. She was standing at the gate waiting for them. “Her own mother over again, and the best girl in the whole north country, sir! It was man’s work you did there to-day for the sake of my girl and her good name—I only wish her father had the muscle to do as much for her.” He stretched out his puny arms and shook his head wistfully. “But there’s one thing I can do, Mr. Wade. It can’t be said that Rod Ide stood by and saw you get thrown out of a job for his daughter’s sake, and didn’t make it square with you!”
“Is that the reason you are offering this partnership to me?” inquired the young man, his pride taking alarm.
“No, sir!” replied the little man, with emphasis. But he added, out of his honesty: “It’s straight business between us, sir, but it wouldn’t be human nature if your best recommendation to me wasn’t the fact that you’ve done for my girl the service that her father ought to have done, and I’m not goin’ to try to separate that from our business. But before I get done talking with you, I’ll show you that by the time you’ve helped me to win out against Pulaski Britt and old King Spruce you’ll have earned your share in this partnership.”
And then, with an air that was distinctly triumphant, he pushed Wade ahead of him through the gate, chatting voluble explanation to a girl who listened with a welcoming light in her gray eyes. It was a light that cheered a roving young man who had acquired friends by such a dizzying train of circumstances.