Crawley had a pretty hard name among the loggers, and those who sought the pelts of the various wild animals of the Northern pines. He was known as a quarrelsome man, and a fighter who had wrought more or less trouble wherever he roved—in the camps of timber cruisers, among the lumberjacks, and with other trappers; but he certainly did not look like a dangerous citizen at that particular moment, while circling around the shanty, snapping his fingers, trying to keep on whistling the recovered air, so as to impress it on his memory, and otherwise conducting himself after the manner of a happy, carefree squatter, regardless of the morrow.
While Teddy was trying to make up his mind as to what the eventual outcome of this strange situation might be, he saw another form appear in the doorway.
Big Gabe Hackett!
The timber cruiser strode into the cabin, his red face filled with both astonishment and anger.
Plainly the weird strains of the “Arkansaw Traveler” did not appeal to any emotion in his soul. Music might have charms to soothe the savage, but it failed to awaken any responsive chord in the breast of this giant of the pine woods.
Crawley had now seized upon his child, and was holding her to him while making ungainly attempts to keep time with the rhythm of the music. Sallie actually smiled for the first time since Amos had entered the place; and it was a smile that lighted up her elfin features until in the boy’s mind they looked almost angelic.
Imagine the disgust of the scheming Big Gabe to come rushing into the cabin and discover such a remarkable thing as this going on.
His heavy voice sounded above the music, and the beat of Crawley’s feet on the floor.
“Stop it! Say, Crawley, hev ye gone clean crazy? What sorter kerryin’ on d’ye call this here, anyhow? Quit it, I say and act sensible. Hoy dye ’spect we’re a goin’ ter work out our game if ye play the big baby. Stop fiddlin,’ boy!”
Amos, of course, obeyed, and with the inspiration of the music gone, the traveler also ceased capering around the room.