The road was steep as well as narrow and the horse took it at a walk. On either side towered great pines and hemlocks, their laden branches sweeping almost to the ground. Yet here and there through little openings one could glimpse the close-set ranks of dark trunks standing out sharply against the snow, which seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Still climbing steadily, they made a turn and presently another. Then the track levelled abruptly, and in another moment they came out into an open space and stopped.
“Well, here we are,” said McBride, throwing aside the fur robes.
Farren’s eyes swept the clearing interestedly. It seemed to be a bare, rocky shoulder on one of the high hills which looked down on Wharton. From here, on fine days, one could no doubt get a widespread view of hill and dale and open country. But Farren was not thinking of the view just now. His attention was riveted on the structure of logs which stood before him, nestling against a background of pines. It was a log cabin, long, low, with an overhanging roof and a great stone chimney rising at one end. Out of the chimney smoke curled; the small-paned window glowed with the cheery gleam of fire; the tang of burning wood came pleasantly to his senses. And as he stared, heedless for the moment of Cavvy’s question of how he liked it, the door flew open and a horde of boys in scout uniform burst out pell-mell and clustered around the sleigh.
“Merry Christmas!” they shouted exuberantly. “Merry Christmas, Jack! How’s the boy? It’s great to see you again. Lay off him, you roughnecks; don’t paw him to pieces. Give him a chance to get his breath.”
Farren grinned broadly as he stepped from the sleigh into the throng of dancing, excited youngsters. “I certainly need it,” he laughed, ruffling one boy’s hair and slapping another on the back. “You fellows put one over on me this time, all right. But how did it ever come to be here? You didn’t build it yourselves, did you?”
“Alas, no!” returned Cavvy. “Not that we aren’t capable of it if it had been necessary, you understand. But we put some magnificent finishing touches to the interior and furnished it completely. We wanted it to be a surprise for you and Dick and the others. But before we got it quite ready they—they went, so you’re the only one left to take part in the house warming. Come ahead in and look the joint over. Furn, hold the horse a minute, will you?”
He took Farren’s arm, and with Micky on the other side, and the remainder of the boys trailing behind, they tramped through the snow to the open door and stepped inside.
And there they paused, the man surprised, fascinated. He had been prepared, no matter what he found, to show surprise and approval if for no other reason than to satisfy the boyish pride of his hosts. But as it happened there was no pretense necessary; his emotion was entirely genuine and very keen.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
The interior was a single room some twenty-five feet long and over half as wide, the walls of pine logs carefully trimmed and notched, with joints made tight with cement. Opposite the door yawned a cavernous fireplace of rough stone in which a pile of four foot logs roared and crackled.