He accepted Thorpe for what he thought him to be, rather than for what he might think him to be.Thus he reposed unbounded confidence in him.
After a while, observing the absolute ingenuousness of the boy, Thorpe used to take him from time to time on some of his daily trips to the pines.Necessarily he explained partially his position and the need of secrecy.Wallace was immensely excited and important at learning a secret of such moment, and deeply flattered at being entrusted with it.
Some may think that here, considering the magnitude of the interests involved, Thorpe committed an indiscretion.It may be;but if so, it was practically an inevitable indiscretion.Strong, reticent characters like Thorpe's prove the need from time to time of violating their own natures, of running counter to their ordinary habits of mind and deed.It is a necessary relaxation of the strenuous, a debauch of the soul.Its analogy in the lower plane is to be found in the dissipations of men of genius; or still lower in the orgies of fighters out of training.Sooner or later Thorpe was sure to emerge for a brief space from that iron-bound silence of the spirit, of which he himself was the least aware.It was not so much a hunger for affection, as the desire of a strong man temporarily to get away from his strength.Wallace Carpenter became in his case the exception to prove the rule.
Little by little the eager questionings of the youth extracted a full statement of the situation.He learned of the timber-thieves up the river, of their present operations; and their probable plans; of the valuable pine lying still unclaimed; of Thorpe's stealthy raid into the enemy's country.It looked big to him, epic!--These were tremendous forces in motion, here was intrigue, here was direct practical application of the powers he had been playing with.
"Why, it's great! It's better than any book I ever read!"He wanted to know what he could do to help.
"Nothing except keep quiet," replied Thorpe, already uneasy, not lest the boy should prove unreliable, but lest his very eagerness to seem unconcerned should arouse suspicion."You mustn't try to act any different.If the men from up-river come by, be just as cordial to them as you can, and don't act mysterious and important.""All right," agreed Wallace, bubbling with excitement."And then what do you do--after you get the timber estimated?""I'll go South and try, quietly, to raise some money.That will be difficult, because, you see, people don't know me; and I am not in a position to let them look over the timber.Of course it will be merely a question of my judgment.They can go themselves to the Land Office and pay their money.There won't be any chance of my making way with that.The investors will become possessed of certain 'descriptions' lying in this country, all right enough.The rub is, will they have enough confidence in me and my judgment to believe the timber to be what I represent it?""I see," commented Wallace, suddenly grave.
That evening Injin Charley went on with his canoe building.He melted together in a pot, resin and pitch.The proportion he determined by experiment, for the mixture had to be neither hard enough to crack nor soft enough to melt in the sun.Then he daubed the mess over all the seams.Wallace superintended the operation for a time in silence.
"Harry," he said suddenly with a crisp decision new to his voice, "will you take a little walk with me down by the dam.I want to talk with you."They strolled to the edge of the bank and stood for a moment looking at the swirling waters.
"I want you to tell me all about logging," began Wallace."Start from the beginning.Suppose, for instance, you had bought this pine here we were talking about,--what would be your first move?"They sat side by side on a log, and Thorpe explained.He told of the building of the camps, the making of the roads; the cutting, swamping, travoying, skidding; the banking and driving.Unconsciously a little of the battle clang crept into his narrative.It became a struggle, a gasping tug and heave for supremacy between the man and the wilderness.The excitement of war was in it.When he had finished, Wallace drew a deep breath.
"When I am home," said he simply, "I live in a big house on the Lake Shore Drive.It is heated by steam and lighted by electricity.
I touch a button or turn a screw, and at once I am lighted and warmed.
At certain hours meals are served me.I don't know how they are cooked, or where the materials come from.Since leaving college Ihave spent a little time down town every day; and then I've played golf or tennis or ridden a horse in the park.The only real thing left is the sailing.The wind blows just as hard and the waves mount just as high to-day as they did when Drake sailed.All the rest is tame.We do little imitations of the real thing with blue ribbons tied to them, and think we are camping or roughing it.This life of yours is glorious, is vital, it means something in the march of the world;--and I doubt whether ours does.You are subduing the wilderness, extending the frontier.After you will come the backwoods farmer to pull up the stumps, and after him the big farmer and the cities."The young follow spoke with unexpected swiftness and earnestness.
Thorpe looked at him in surprise.
"I know what you are thinking," said the boy, flushing."You are surprised that I can be in earnest about anything.I'm out of school up here.Let me shout and play with the rest of the children."Thorpe watched him with sympathetic eyes, but with lips that obstinately refused to say one word.A woman would have felt rebuffed.The boy's admiration, however, rested on the foundation of the more manly qualities he had already seen in his friend.
Perhaps this very aloofness, this very silent, steady-eyed power appealed to him.
