the outfit, if this girl don’t mind roughing it a bit—”
“But—” began Jack.
“Let her stay here,” suggested Mrs. Chaisson. “I’m lonesome after you go on the road.”
“Oh, you are very kind,” said Desiré quickly, “but I really couldn’t leave Jack.”
“But,” began Jack again, “I couldn’t deprive you of the lobster catching, Simon. It was bad enough taking your store for a year, without—”
“Takin’ nothing!” interrupted the old man vehemently. “Didn’t you keep my horses from eating their heads off all year, and keep my trade from goin’ to some one else fer good? Besides, I can’t catch lobsters any more. Doc says that messin’ in the water’s bad for my rheumatiz. Goin’ to give up the hut after this year anyway; so if you want to stay and take it, you’re more’n welcome.”
They discussed the matter all the evening, until Simon got up to go to bed, and his daughter withdrew to her room which Desiré was to share. To Jack fell the big sofa in the living room. He and Desiré sat on beside the fire for a few minutes after they were left alone.
“What do you think of it, Dissy? Shall I take it or not?”
“I hardly know what to say; but there’s no reason I can think of why you shouldn’t, if it looks good to you.”
“Of course I have no other immediate prospects; but it would be rough and lonesome for you, I’m afraid—”
“Lonesome, with you around? As for being rough, it will be fun to try a different way of living for a few weeks.”
Secretly Desiré rather longed for the coziness of the Godet house, but she thought Jack felt he should make the most of every opportunity for earning money, and she wanted to make things as easy for him as possible.
The next morning, with a big basket of lunch in the back of the wagon, they all drove down to the hut, René wild with excitement. An hour’s drive brought them to the bleak, deserted coast. Nothing but sand, jagged rocks, coarse grass, and scattered huts met their eyes. They left the team just off the road beside a clump of juniper, and crossed the sand to the hut. When Simon unlocked the door, the interior seemed to be a jumble of lumber.
“Get all these pots out in a jiffy,” he said, picking up a couple of crate-like objects and depositing them outside.
They all helped, and soon the pots were piled up beside the hut.
The rooms were tiny, only two in number, a bedroom and a general room; and the furniture was scanty.
“You can’t possibly live here, Dissy,” whispered Jack.
“Go on and learn how to catch the beasts, and I’ll attend to the house,” she replied with forced cheeriness.
So Mrs. Chaisson and Desiré cleaned and set in perfect order the tiny wooden building, while Simon taught Jack how to make and repair lobster pots. They look like oblong crates, and are made of narrow strips of wood bent into a semi-circle and nailed onto a board. A couple of holes are left for the lobsters to crawl in, and the whole is lined with coarse net, and weighted with heavy stones.
At noon they spread the lunch on a huge flat boulder on the beach.
“Lots nicer than an old table,” René pronounced it.
“You’ll have no trouble in roughing it as far as he’s concerned,” laughed Mrs. Chaisson.
“No; he’s usually satisfied with what he has,” replied Desiré.
“No, I ain’t,” contradicted the child.
“Why, Renny,” said Jack in surprise.
“Well, Dissy said I was satisfied, and I ain’t. I want a dog.”
“Maybe when we go home you can have one,” said Jack, adding to Desiré, “It wouldn’t be a bad plan at all, if we stay in Wolfville.”
René, as happy as if the desired pet were to be forthcoming on the morrow, returned to his play in the sand.
“Now,” said Simon, when all traces of lunch had been cleared up, “we’ll all paint markers.”
The long stakes with big wooden knobs on the top were weather beaten, and their bands of orange and green were dim. Each fisherman has a different kind of marker, and sets one up beside each pot after it is sunk beneath the water. They serve two purposes: mark the place where the pot is located, and notify other fishermen of their ownership. It is a serious matter for anyone to touch lobsters guarded by the markers of another person. It is interesting to note the numberless varieties of color combinations, styles of banding, and shapes of knobs.
It was a tired crowd of workers that returned to Yarmouth that evening; for although everything was ready in the hut for the new occupants, Mrs. Chaisson insisted upon their going back for “one more really comfortable sleep” as she expressed it.
“How do we get back and forth from the huts?” inquired Desiré, the following morning.
“I’ll take ye out,” answered Simon, “and when you want to come in, you’ll have to walk until you meet somebody who’s goin’ your way and who will give you a lift.”
Jack wrote to the judge, telling him of their plans and probable delay; both he and Desiré wrote short notes to Priscilla; and before noon they were settled in their temporary home, Desiré helping Jack get the lobster pots ready to sink, while René lay at full length in the sand poking at a jellyfish. None of them saw a figure walk along the road, stop, watch for a while, then move silently across the grass and along the sand until it stood directly back of the workers.
CHAPTER XXV
LOBSTER POTS
“What are you doing with those?” demanded a rough voice so suddenly that Desiré dropped the marker she held, and gave a little scream, while René rolled over and lay with his head on the unfortunate jellyfish. Jack, the only cool person of the group, replied quietly, “Getting them ready to sink.”
“You get yourself ready to go along with me. These belong to Simon Denard, and you’ve no right to touch ’em. So come along.”
The man laid a heavy hand on Jack’s arm, and attempted to jerk him off somewhere.
“I know they belong to Simon,” replied Jack. “We’re friends of his, and he has lent us the place for a few weeks. We’re going to live here, my sister and I.” Jack gazed calmly into the dark, determined face and keen black eyes confronting him.
Desiré was too frightened to utter a word, and stood at her brother’s other side, holding fast to his coat. René suddenly recovered his voice and began to cry.
“Hush your noise!” ordered the man, without turning his head; and so great was the child’s astonishment that he really did stop.
“There’s no need of getting excited about this,” said Jack. “You can easily prove that I’m telling the truth if you’ll ask Mrs. Chaisson, Simon’s daughter, and—”
“I’ve
