Desiré began to express her gratitude, but he brushed aside her attempts.
“Nothing to it—wanted to see this boy—anyhow,” taking the chair Jack offered him, and glancing up at the tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a smile which, as Priscilla said, made his face “all crinkled.”
“Guess I’ve got—a job for you,” he continued. “Know old man Beaumont?”
Jack shook his head gravely, though his heart rejoiced at the prospect of finding employment at last.
“He’s been postman around here—for—I don’t know how many years. Too old now—but won’t give up; been trying to fix things—so he’d have a helper. Orders came couple of weeks ago—good job for you—if you want it.”
“Want it!” repeated Jack. “You can’t possibly imagine how much I want it.”
“Government furnishes a little wagon—you’ll use one of your own horses—that is until snow gets too deep. Then you’ll have to go on—on snowshoes. Have to go to town—to get your orders—better go now in my Ford.”
So, in an excited bustle, Jack got ready and departed with the judge.
“Don’t worry—about his getting wet,” the judge leaned far out of the car to call to Desiré, who was standing in the doorway, “I’ll bring him—back again.”
It was supper time before they returned, and the rain had subsided for a time; but the judge refused to come in although Desiré ran out to the car and urged him to stay.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she added, leaning over the door after he had started the engine, “for getting Jack the job. He was so restless and worried, and almost unhappy; and when Jack’s upset, well—it just about kills me.”
The judge’s keen eyes softened, and he patted her hand kindly, saying, “Run in, child—you’ll catch cold. Hear all Jack has to tell you.”
He drove rapidly down the lane, and Desiré returned to her family. They spent a happy evening around the fire, making plans for the future. Now there would be no need of drawing on the previous funds for clothing!
The next day the sun came out, and as soon as breakfast was over the whole family started out for Wolfville, picking their way carefully around the big puddles. They left Priscilla at school, and then went on to Judge Herbine’s to clear out the wagon preparatory to putting it up for the winter.
“Where are you going to put all that?” asked Madam Lovemore, coming out in the midst of their labors, to look at all the stock spread on papers on the barn floor.
“Some of it we’ll use ourselves, and the rest store until spring,” answered Desiré, who was busy sorting goods that would keep from those which would not, while Jack, with pencil and paper, was taking inventory.
“There’s lots of room in the attic. Just take what you want to save up there. No use carting it down to your house, where you need all the space you have.”
The judge had ambled in while she was talking, and strolled around, peering at first one pile and then another.
“You’ve a day’s job here,” he observed. “When you hear the bell—come in to dinner.”
By night the task was finished, and the wagon empty. The judge presented Jack with a shovel and an axe, saying, “Can’t travel without these in these parts in the winter time. You’ll want them—in the mail wagon. They’re going to send it down—in the morning.”
Desiré looked at him in surprise.
“Why will he need a shovel and an axe?” she asked.
“Caught in storms sometimes—have to dig your way out—trees fall in high winds—only way is to chop your way through.”
Throughout supper, to which the judge insisted upon their staying also, Desiré was very quiet; and on the way home she took little part in the children’s chatter.
“What’s the matter, Dissy?” inquired Jack, after the younger ones were in bed.
“Oh, Jack! I was so very glad when you got the appointment; and now I’m so afraid for you,” she whispered, dropping her head on his broad shoulder.
“But why?” he asked in surprise, slipping his arm around her.
“Because of the storms—the falling trees,” she choked. “I never thought of that part of it.”
“But I’m strong and well, dear; and the work won’t hurt me. And I promise you that I’ll be very careful, and take no foolish chances. I don’t like to think of you sitting at home, nervous and unhappy, all the time I’m away. That would make the work much harder. So you’ll try to be brave, and not worry?”
Desiré made a desperate effort to put aside her fears, and promised to do as Jack wished.
CHAPTER XXII
CAUGHT BY STORM
Jack had seen the storm approaching as he was driving along a lonely road above a valley in the late afternoon, but it would have been about as far to turn back to the nearest shelter as it would to go on as fast as he could to the next. Urging the horses to do their best (for during the severe weather he was using the team), he drew up the robe, turned down the sides of his cap, and fastened up his coat collar. The snow came down faster and faster.
“Good thing there’s no wind,” he muttered; but even as he spoke a spiteful gust snatched up an armful of snow, and whirled it into his face. The horses did their best, but the road seemed endless; nothing could be seen except limitless stretches of white country, and trees whose branches sagged under their heavy loads.
There was a sudden crash, and right across his way dropped a huge limb of a birch tree, stretching from one side of the road to the other. The horses stopped, snorting with fright, and when Jack had quieted them, he reached into the back of the wagon for the axe, and got out to clear a pathway. He dared not try to drive around it; for he could not tell, on account of the snow, just where the ground began to slope sharply away toward the valley; and he wasn’t really anxious for a roll down those hills.
Chopping the way through was a hard task for one, and Jack had to stop very often to rest; by the time he finished, it was dark.
“Well, now we’re going on,” he said cheerily, giving a pat to either horse as he passed their heads after dragging out the cut section of the tree. The patient animals had stood quietly, heads dropped, bodies relaxed, while he worked. He had thrown blankets across them, and the rest had given them a chance to get their wind again. So they threw themselves gallantly forward to their task, and soon pulled the wagon down into the valley.
Here the road was not so good; for the snow had blown down the sides of the hills and settled in drifts, some small and fairly passable, others most difficult to plough through. Several times Jack had to get out and shovel before the horses were able to get the wagon any farther on its way. The lanterns on the wagon gave a fair light, with the help of the whiteness all about them, but the road became increasingly difficult to follow; and at last Jack had to admit to himself that he was lost. He had no idea which way to turn; but it was impossible to stand still for the night—they would be buried before morning if the snow kept on, and the horses would perish. Recalling various stories of the intelligence, or instinct, of animals under like circumstances, he decided to give the horses a loose rein and trust to Providence. The faithful beasts plodded on and on, while Jack strained his eyes through the whirling snowflakes, searching for signs of habitation.
Some time during the night he saw a dim outline in front of him, and the horses stopped. With an unspoken prayer of gratitude, he dropped down from the seat, stiffly walked a few steps to the house, and knocked.
CHAPTER XXIII
SHELTER
After