Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1914-11-10

wondered how it was that I missed
the mention Of Joe's name.
November was the man who put
together that puzzle for them down
in New York." Mrs. Harding went
on. Ever since they have been want
ing him to work for them. They Of
fered him 500 a month to go to
New York and take on detective jobs
there"
"Ah, and what had he to say to
that?"
said he wouldn't leave the woods
for thousand"
"Well?"
"They offered him the thousand"
with what result?"
HE started out in the night for
his shack. Came here as he passed
and told my husband he would rather
be tied to a tree in the woods for the
rest of his life than live on Fifth
avenue The lumberjackets and the
hereabouts think lot of him. Now
you'd best saddle Laura-that's the
big gray mare you'll find in the near
stall of the stable-and go right off.
Therell be a moon when the storm
blows itself out"
BY the help Of the lantern I sad
died Laura and stumbled away into
the dark and the wind. For the
chief part of the way had to lead the
mare, and the dawn was gray in the
open places before I reached the de-
serted lumber camp and all the time
my mind was busy with memories OF
November. Boy though he had been
when 1 knew him, his personality had
impressed itself upon me by reason of
certain adequate quietness with
which he fulfilled the duties, many
and disagreeable, which bearded old
Tom Todd took a delight in laying
upon his young shoulders.
1 remembered, too, the expression
of humor and mocking tolerance
which used to invade the boys face
whenever old Tom was overtaken by
one of his habitual fits Of talking big.
Once when Tom spoke by the camp
fire of some lake to which he desir-
ed to guide me and Of which he
stated that the shores had never been
trodden by white mans FOOT Joe
had to cover his mouth with his hand.
When we were alone, Todd having
departed to make some necessary re-
pairs to the canoe, l asked Joe what
he meant by laughing at his elders.
IT suppose a boys foot amt
mans always" remarked Joe inno-
Gently, and more he would not say.
| The sun was showing over the tree
tops when 1 drew rein by the door of
the shack, and at the same moment
came in view of the slim but power
full figure of a young man who was
busy rolling some gear into a pack.
He raised himself and, just as was
about to speak. drawled out:
MY Mr.. Quaritch, you! Who'd
a thought it?"
| The young woodsman came forward
with a lazy stride and gave me well
come with a curious gentleness that
was one of his characteristics, but
which left me in doubt as to its geni-
ality.
| I feel that l shall never be able to
describe November. Suffice it to say
that the loose knit boy l remembered
had developed into one of the finest
specimens of manhood that ever
grew up among the balsam trees; near
six feet tall, 1.-the and powerful. with
neck like column and a straight
featured face, the sheer good looks
of this son of the woods were dis
turbing. He was clearly also not only
the product but the master Of his en-
vironment.
well, well. Mr.. Quaritch, many's
the time I've been thinking Of the
DAYS we had with old Tom up on the
Roustik."
"They were good days, Joe, weren't
they?"
| Sure, sure, they WERE"
| II hope we shall have some more
together"
IF it's hunting you want I'm glad
you're here, Mr.. Quaritch. There's
fine buck using around by Widdeney
pond. Maybe we will get look at
him come sunset, for he most always
moves out of the thick brush about
dark" Then humor lit a spark Ill
his splendid gray eyes as he looked
up at me. But We'll have a cup o
tea first"
November Joe's (by the way. l
ought to mention that his birth in the
month of November had given him
his name), as l say, November Joes
weakness for tea had in the old days
been a target upon which l had often
exercised my faculty for irony and
banter The weakness was evident
ly still alive.
Il had hoped to have hunt with
you, November" said l. Indeed,
that is what l came for, and there's
nothing I'd like better than to try
for your red deer buck tonight. but
while | was at Hardngs there was
ringing up on the phone, and the
provincial police sent through a mes
sage for you. 1t appears that man
named Henry Lyon has been shot in
his camp at Big Tree portage. A
lumberman found him and phoned
the news to Quebec. The chief OF
police wants you to take on the case.
He told me to say that success would
mean $50"
That's too bad" said Joe. I'D
sooner hunt a deer than man any
day. Makes fellow feel less badlike