It was a lovely day in late September, but the fall of the summer could be seen in the changing hues of the maples, which flamed into crimson and gold, lighting up the sombre green of the other trees.
Pip was a big deerhound, fierce of aspect, and the creature lay at the edge of the clearing, where it had fallen, exhausted in its effort to get home after the fray, in which it had plainly come off second best. It was covered with blood and wounds, one ear being torn in a ghastly fashion.
“Oh, you poor dear thing! Good old Pip, you have been having a rough time!” exclaimed Nell, dropping on her knees beside the dog, and touching it gently here and there.
The creature wagged its tail feebly, as if it understood and appreciated her sympathy; then uttered a whining cry.
“Thirsty, are you? I’ll get you drink, and rig up a little curtain to keep the flies from bothering,” she said in the soothing tone one would use towards a child that had been injured.
“Couldn’t you help me to carry Pip indoors, granfer? I could look after it so much better there,” she said, when she had brought the water, which the creature feebly lapped.
“The dog will be cooler out here, and we can bring it in at nightfall. I’ve got some work to do down beyond now, and can’t be bothered.”
It was characteristic of Doss Umpey that he had always work to do down beyond whenever Nell wanted any assistance from him, so she made up her mind that when he was safely out of the way she would manage somehow to get poor Pip into more comfortable quarters.
Despite the work he had spoken of, the old man seemed in no hurry to go, but stood leaning at ease against the bole of a great redwood tree, talking in the dreamy fashion which always seemed to suit him much better than hard work.
He was not a really old man, being only about sixty-five, strong and hearty, but with a constitutional aversion to sustained effort of any sort.
“There’s no mistake but you are right-down handy at tending critters that are ill. A first-class nurse you’d make, Nell, if only you’d got the chance,” he said, watching her active ministrations to the dog with lazy admiration.
“Why don’t you give me the chance, then?” she retorted quickly. “I’d love to be a nurse, or to be anything that would help me to get on. Just look at me, granfer. I’m seventeen to-day, and I’m just good for nothing. I can’t even keep house properly, because I ain’t got the things to do it with.”
“I’m a poor man, or maybe I’d have done a better part by you; though, as folks are always telling me, it isn’t every lone man like me that would have been bothered with bringing up a child as didn’t really belong to him,” Doss Umpey said, puffing out his chest with an air of satisfaction. He always prided himself a great deal on this, the one charitable act of his life, but it is open to doubt whether Nell would not have been better off if she had been left to the tender mercies of some orphan asylum when her father died, than she was in the care of a grandfather who troubled himself so little about her interests.
“If only I’d crossed the border and settled in Canada when I was a young man, it would have been a deal better for me all round,” he said, leaning his head back against the redwood and gazing pensively up into the sky.
“Why didn’t you?” demanded Nell, as she gently bathed Pip’s torn ear in cool water.
“Circumstances were against me. Most things have been against me somehow,” he said, with a reflective sigh.
“Look here, granfer, couldn’t we go now?” she asked eagerly. “We couldn’t be poorer than we are here, and if we lived where there were more people, I could get work to do at helping, that would bring in money.”
“We’ll see about it, girl, in a few weeks, maybe, but it would be an undertaking, I can tell you, to go such a long way.”
“How far is it to the frontier, granfer?” asked Nell, who as ever was athirst for information.
“Oh, a good few miles. Why, you can walk for thirty miles on this trail, without coming to anything bigger than a woodcutter’s hut, and when you’ve done the thirty miles you are still a goodish distance from the border. But if anything ever happens to me, you’d best make tracks over the border as fast as you can go.”
“Why?” she asked, throwing back her head to get a better look at him, then blinking like an owl, because the sun came into her eyes.
“For ever so many reasons. Canada is a land of promise for young people. Then, English law, by which, of course, I mean Canadian law, is kinder to lone women and girls than American. But I must be stirring, or that bit o’ work down beyond won’t get done by sundown.” And the old man prepared to shuffle off at a slow, comfortable crawl, which was his usual rate of travel.
But there was a request Nell had to prefer before he went, and she rose up hurriedly to intercept his going.
“Granfer, I’m seventeen to-day; mayn’t I have the box of mother’s things that father left for you to take care of? He said I was to have them when I was seventeen.”
“So he did, only I’d forgotten all about it, and, now I come to think of it, I lost the key a good few years back, so you’ll just have to wait till I come home again, then I’ll get out my tools and prise the lid open.”
Doss Umpey quickened his pace then, as if anxious not to be recalled, and was soon out of sight, hidden from view by the trees.
Nell heaved an impatient sigh, but busied herself with the dog; then, when she had made the poor creature as comfortable as she could, she went back to her secret avocations in the loft.
This loft was her refuge, the one place where she was secure from interruption. The roof was open to the shingles, so above, below, and at the sides it was all bare brown wood, without any attempt at adornment of any kind. Window proper there was none, but a hinged shutter in the western gable let in sunshine and fresh air, and, weather permitting, this stood open night and day.
There were no small prettinesses such as may be found in many a chamber belonging to girls who are poor. But, all the same, it did not lack individuality. It was scrupulously clean and well kept, while on a packing-case, standing near the open shutter, were arranged a small pile of books, a bigger heap of newspapers, a bottle of ink, a pen, and a few stumps of pencils.
Here every day Nell did her best to carry on her education, reading everything she could get hold of, and writing extracts from her scanty library on the margins of the newspapers, because she had no writing-paper or exercise books.
She had been hard at work here when her grandfather called her down to attend to the dog, and she went back to her occupation when he had gone away, and she had left Pip as comfortable as circumstances permitted.
But now her attention wandered; the talk about Canada had excited her, while the disappointment about the box was depressing.
Presently she pushed her work aside, and went down the ladder to the lower room. The box containing the things which had belonged to her dead mother stood there. It was only a small box, but strongly made and clamped with iron. Nell had not seen inside it since her father died, but she knew what it contained. There were frocks and coats belonging to her mother, a gold watch and chain, a gold bracelet, and some brooches. The jewelry was of no great value from a monetary point of view, but it was precious beyond price to the girl, whose memory of her mother grew every day more faint and indistinct.
“Just to think that granfer should lose the key, when I wanted it so badly!” she murmured to herself, as she leaned over the box, touching it with caressing fingers.
At that moment the sound of a deep-drawn sigh caught her ear, and lifting her head she saw a strange man standing