Big Red Read online

  Most of the day he worked, chopping the birches down, trimming the branches from them, and piling them in a great heap. In the middle of the afternoon he untied Asa, led him to the felled trees, hooked the chain around a dozen of them, and tightened it. He led the mule back down the trail, left the trees in the chip-littered woodyard behind the shanty, and went back for another load. Dusk had fallen when he went down the trail with the last of the trees, and blue smoke was rising lazily from the cabin’s chimney. He led Asa to the woodyard, and was piling the trees on those already there, when Ross came from the cabin to stand silently watching.

  “You got a right smart lot of wood,” he finally observed. “You better give Asa a feed of grain and rub him down, too. I’ll have some vittles for you when you come in.”

  Danny cared for the mule, hung the harness in the barn, and with Red padding beside him entered the house. Ross bent over the stove, and when Danny came in he turned to smile wanly.

  “I bet you got a yen for grub,” he said.

  “I could eat,” Danny admitted. “But I’m not so tired. Tell me about yourself. Did you see Mr. Haggin?”

  “Yup.” With studied deliberation Ross turned away from him and faced the stove. “I took him his berries. By the way, Danny, he wants you should bring that Red dog and come down in the mornin’. There’s some sort of quality woman stayin’ there, and I guess he wants she should see him.”

  “Why, sure. It’s Mr. Haggin’s dog. He’s got the right to see him if he wants.”

  “Danny …”

  “What?”

  “I … Set down and eat your supper,” Ross finished lamely. “You won’t have nothin’ else to do tomorrow. I’ll take care of the wood you and Asa brought in.”

  “Two of us with a cross-cut’ll get it sawed quicker,” Danny said. “What’s the matter with you, Pappy?”

  “Nothin’. Set and eat.”

  Danny ate, and after eating strolled through the evening woods with Red while Ross washed the dishes. He was a little worried about his father. That Ross should even offer to wash the dishes was astounding in itself. Still, there didn’t seem to be any physical difficulty; evidently Ross had something on his mind. When darkness fell, Danny went in to bed.

  He was up very early, and scrubbed his face to the point of immaculateness in the tin basin. He put on a clean shirt and a fresh pair of trousers, and after breakfast, with Red frisking beside him, started down the Smokey Creek trail. A red fox leaped across the trail ahead of them, and Red dashed wildly to lunge at it. After ten minutes Red came back, panting heavily. Danny frowned and walked on. They broke out of the woods into the rolling acres of Mr. Haggin’s estate, and started across them.

  Red fell back to pace sedately at Danny’s side, and Danny reached down to reassure himself by touching the dog’s head. Of course Mr. Haggin was a mighty fine man, but just the same it was hard not to feel at least a little awed when approaching such magnificence as was to be encountered on his Wintapi estate. Danny saw two riders galloping on a pair of Mr. Haggin’s blooded horses along a bridle trail, and looked carefully at them. One was Mr. Haggin himself, and the other looked like a woman. Danny stopped in front of the barn. The two riders galloped in, and Red backed uncertainly against his knees. A groom came forward to take their horses, and Mr. Haggin and his companion swung from their saddles to come toward Danny. Mr. Haggin’s booming voice bridged the distance between them.

  “Good morning, Danny.”

  “Mornin’, sir. I brought Red down.”

  Danny was studying the woman. She was tall, slender, and moved with the easy grace of a sable. She was dressed in riding breeches, polished boots, and a silken shirt. Her black hair had blown back on her head, and her cheeks were flushed. Certainly it was the quality woman of whom Ross had spoken. Yet Danny twitched uncomfortably. There was something very hard and very cold about her, as though she had always had her own way and always intended to have it.

  “Miss Grennan, meet Danny Pickett,” Mr. Haggin said.

  “Hello, Danny,” the quality woman smiled.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Danny mumbled.

  “Miss Grennan’s the manager of my Philadelphia branch,” Mr. Haggin explained. “There’s the dog I was telling you about, Katherine, Champion Sylvester’s Boy.”

  “Oh, Dick, what a gorgeous creature!”

  The quality woman knelt beside Red, and put her hand on his ruff. Red backed a little nearer to Danny, to get away from the smell of the perfume she wore. Danny looked at her with miserable eyes, knowing now why Ross had been so perturbed last night. The quality woman rose to her feet.

  “Dick, give him to me.”

  “Whoa there! Wait a minute. What would you do with a dog like that?”

  “Dick, let me have him.”

  Mr. Haggin coughed, and looked away. He squirmed, and coughed again. “Now, Katherine, your sense of acquisitiveness …”

  “Oh, you silly! Let me have him for six months, and show him off in Philly.”

  “I can’t let you have that dog.”

  “Why not?”

  “Danny.”

  Katherine Grennan smiled again. “What do you say, Danny?”

  “Well, I sure wouldn’t like to see Red leave here.”

  The quality woman was very cold now, and very hard. “I know you wouldn’t, Danny. But it isn’t your dog, is it? It belongs to Mr. Haggin, doesn’t it?”

  Danny said manfully, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There!” she said triumphantly. “Now let me have him, Dick.”

  Mr. Haggin looked at Danny. “Do you think she should take him?”

  “It’s your dog,” Danny said.

  “There, old iron man!” the quality woman said. “You can’t have another thing to say. Anyhow, he’ll be back in six months.”

  Mr. Haggin shrugged helplessly. “Danny, do you want to leave him now or bring him in the morning?”

  “Well,” Danny hedged, “I could just as leave bring him in the mornin’, and save you the bother of feedin’ him tonight.”

  “Do that, Danny,” the quality woman smiled. “I’ll be leaving at eight o’clock.”

  With Red beside him, Danny turned miserably away. He swung from the trail to the foot of Misty Mountain, and started up its slope. When Red dashed after a squirrel, Danny only looked dully at him. The big dog might as well have his fun. Tomorrow morning he was going to Philadelphia, and that was almost as big as New York. There’d be no forest there, nothing except pavement and little patches of green grass that were called parks. With the back of his hand Danny wiped the tears from his eyes. The quality woman didn’t really want a dog, or know what a fine dog was. She wanted Red because he looked nice, and would complement her own faultlessly groomed self. Every morning, probably, she would take him walking on a leash and the rest of the time he’d spend chained to some little kennel where there was just enough grass for him to scratch in.

  It wasn’t right to take a dog like Red away from the life he was meant for.

  The bushes moved, and Red dashed happily in to chase whatever small creature was moving them. A little farther on he pointed two grouse, and Danny didn’t even try to keep him from running after them when they flushed. All day he walked, up Misty Mountain, down its other side, and into the nameless gulleys and ravines that lay beyond. It was his last day with Red. True, the quality woman had said that she would bring him back in six months, but Danny didn’t believe it. Once she got him, she’d find some excuse for keeping him. Darkness had fallen when Danny swung back to the clearing in the beech woods and stamped wearily into the cabin. Ross was there, sitting at the table and staring at the flickering kerosene lamp. He turned blankly around.

  “The quality woman down to Mr. Haggin’s,” Danny explained dully. “Mr. Haggin give Red to her. She’s takin’ him come eight o’clock in the mornin’. I got to fetch him down then.”

  Ross nodded. “I figured she’d try to get her hooks in him given she saw him. I pegged her for that
kind. What you goin’ to do about it, Danny?”

  “Take him down,” Danny said hopelessly. “It’s Mr. Haggin’s rightful dog.”

  He sat miserably on a chair, pecked at the food that Ross put before him, and pillowed his chin in his hands. Ross filled and smoked a pipe, something he did only in times of great stress, and there was a long silence.

  “You know what, Danny?” he said finally. “If I had the money cost of that dog, I’d buy him and give him to you.”

  “We haven’t got seven thousand dollars,” Danny said bitterly. “We haven’t even got seventy dollars.”

  “That’s right,” Ross said tiredly.

  Danny rose and sought his cot, praying for the sleep that would not come. Sleep brought forgetfulness, and if he could forget for only a few minutes … But the long night hours dragged dismally and endlessly on. Just before dawn he fell into a restless and dream-troubled slumber from which Ross awakened him.

  “Danny, I don’t want to bother you. But if you have to be down to Mr. Haggin’s at eight o’clock, it’s nearly quarter past seven.”

  “Sure, sure. Thanks for wakin’ me, Pappy.”

  Danny got out of bed and Red padded eagerly in to greet him with lolling tongue and wagging tail. Danny tore his eyes away from the big setter, and put on the clean clothes he had worn yesterday. There must be no fumbling or faltering now—unless the quality woman wanted to walk into the country back of Stoney Lonesome to claim her dog! Danny stooped to pat Red’s forehead, and with an effort walked past him to linger in front of the door.

  “I—I’ll have some vittles when I get back, Pappy,” he said. “Likely it won’t take me long.”

  “Sure.”

  Ross turned around to stare out of the window. Danny opened the door, and Red raced happily out. He dashed at a rabbit that was nibbling clover at the edge of the pasture, and ran it under the stone pile. After scratching at the unyielding stones a few seconds he ran down the trail to catch up with Danny. Danny walked stolidly forward, turning his head away from the dog. A powerful magnet seemed to be pulling him toward Stoney Lonesome, where he could take Red and where Mr. Haggin and the quality woman couldn’t find him if he didn’t want to be found. But that wouldn’t be right. Red was Mr. Haggin’s dog.

  Some tall grass beside the trail moved, and Red raced joyously down to investigate. He jumped into the grass, remained a moment, and came stumbling out. For a bit he stood in the trail, and rubbed his face in its gravelled bottom.

  Danny said sternly, “Heel.”

  He marched steadily on, not looking around. Red had had his last run after a varmint. When he got to Philadelphia there might be a cat or two for him to chase. But certainly there would be nothing more. Danny took a deep breath, and plunged out of the forest onto Mr. Haggin’s estate. He saw Mr. Haggin, standing with one foot on the running-board of a smart roadster, and the quality woman in it with her hands on the wheel. She looked curiously around, as Mr. Haggin said,

  “Good morning, Danny.”

  “Mornin’, sir.”

  The quality woman took a silk handkerchief from her purse and held it delicately against her nose. Red backed against Danny’s knees, and Danny steeled his aching heart. The big setter did not want to go. But he must go. Danny stooped, put one arm around Red’s chest and the other about his rear legs. He lifted him bodily, and deposited him on the polished leather seat beside the quality woman.

  “Here’s your dog, ma’am,” he murmured.

  Suddenly and violently the quality woman recoiled. She grimaced, grabbed the silk handkerchief with both hands, and plastered it against her nose.

  “Get that thing out of here!” she gasped.

  Red hopped over the side of the car, and squeezed very close to Danny’s legs. The woman turned furious eyes on Mr. Haggin, whose face had turned purple and whose mouth was emitting subdued gurgles.

  “Dick, if this is your idea of a joke …!”

  “Now, Katherine, I swear that I had nothing whatever to do with it.”

  The quality woman put her car in gear, stepped on the gas, and gravel spurted from beneath the wheels as she roared toward the road. Mr. Haggin gasped, and burst into gales of uncontrolled laughter. Danny watched wonderingly.

  “Oh Lord!” Mr. Haggin said at last. “That’s the best I ever saw! Katherine thought she knew everything, and found out that she still has something to learn. Take your dog and go back up into the beech woods, Danny. He’s safe now.”

  But Danny had already gone, was racing up the Smokey Creek trail on winged feet, with Red gambolling happily beside him. A small rabbit hopped across the trail, and Red made a wide circle around it. Danny burst into the cabin.

  “Pappy!” he yelled. “Pappy, I got Red back and I’m goin’ to keep him. He don’t chase varmints no more, either; he wouldn’t run at a little old rabbit in the trail. That quality woman, she’s gone and she don’t want him, just because on the way down he jumped on a skunk! Can you imagine anybody not wantin’ a dog like him just because he smells?”

  Ross’s eyes were shining, but he shook his head gravely. “City women are funny thataway,” he observed. “I’m so glad for you, Danny. But you better take your dog down to the crick and wash him off. He do smell a bit, but in a couple of weeks you won’t hardly notice it a’tall.”

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  The Leaves Rustle

  the summer days faded like golden shadows one into the other, and the first frost came to leave its delicate traceries on the earth and a riot of color behind it. Danny went into the deep woods with Ross, packing loads of traps and caching them in hollow stumps and caverns where all traces of man scent would be eliminated. He climbed mountains and travelled streams, blazing with his axe every place where a set trap might take a fur-bearing animal and getting ready for the long winter to come. But, when he was not doing that, he was abroad with Red.

  The big setter had learned his most important lesson well, and no longer chased whatever ran before him or leaped on bushes when they moved. Slowly, bit by bit, he became woods-wise, and, as soon as he had learned that partridges were the game desired, he worked conscientiously on them. He had that all-important requisite of a shooting dog—the willingness to enter whole-heartedly into the spirit of the hunt, and when his roughest faults were smoothed over, he learned fast.

  Danny taught him to quarter before him, always staying within sight, to respond to the wave of a hand when Danny wanted him to hunt cover to the left or right, and always to obey whatever other commands were given. The dog heeled perfectly, lay down on command, and remained there until instructed to get up. With difficulty Danny taught him to return to the house, leaving Danny in the woods, when told to do that, and started him retrieving with a soft ball. And, when he was finished, he knew that he was going to have a partridge dog.

  Red was not perfect; it would take a season in the field and birds shot over him to make him perfect. Danny thought longingly of his shotgun, and the few birds he would have to shoot to give the big dog his final lessons. But the season was not open yet. He and Ross had never broken game laws, and he was not going to start now. Red’s final training would just have to wait until it was legal.

  With Red frisking before him, Danny tramped out of the beech woods on a frost-tinged evening in early autumn, and into the cabin. Ross was sitting at the table, his chin in his hands, staring out the open door at the haze-shrouded peak of Stoney Lonesome. Ross’s four hounds had come out of their kennels, and each sat at the end of its chain staring at something that only they could see. Danny grinned. It was this way every year. When summer started to fade Ross worked hard and long to prepare for the trapping season. But little by little he became impatient and, by the time the first frost struck, impatience would be a raging fever within him. Then he must take his hounds and go into the mountains for the season’s first varmint hunt.

  “Danny,” said Ross, “do you think the trap-lines are in good shape?”

  “Sur
e they are. We got a right handy lot of trappin’ laid out for us.” Danny grinned to himself.

  His father resumed his staring out the door, while Danny busied himself preparing the evening meal. Ross was a proud man and a hard worker, and little was ever permitted to interfere with essential work. Because varmint hunting was his pleasure, he hesitated to go while there was other work to be done.

  “Supper’s ready,” Danny announced.

  Ross moved moodily over and sat down, staring at the food before him. Danny watched him covertly, and a little anxiously. Ross had been working very hard, and his eyes showed it. But he was still trying to convince himself that there was work to be done on the trap-lines, and he could not possibly take a varmint hunt. Danny stopped eating, and said carelessly,

  “Pappy, if the hounds are goin’ to be in shape for the winter, they got to have some chasin’.”

  “Yeh, I know,” Ross said absently.

  “Then,” Danny continued, “why don’t you take ’em out for a varmint hunt, come mornin’?”

  “Well, there’s a little work to be done on the Lonesome Pond line …”

  “You can’t be caught in the winter with soft hounds,” Danny warned.

  “By Joe!” Ross slapped the table with his fist. “That’s right, Danny. Guess I’d better take ’em out!”

  “Sure. It’s just as important as trappin’. You catch a lot of varmints with those hounds.”

  “That’s right,” Ross repeated. “Can I take the Red dog with me, Danny?”

  Danny fidgeted. “That Red, I gotta work him some more.”

  “Mebbe so. I’ll take him the next time.”

  Danny washed the dishes and read the latest issues of the outdoor magazines while Ross prepared happily for his hunt. Danny went to bed early, and when he awoke Ross had taken the four hounds and gone into the mountains. There was a roughly pencilled note on the table: