style="font-size:15px;"> CHAPTER IV – CHET GREENE’S PAST
“Hello, Andy!”
“Hello, Chet! I never expected to find you here! This is a real pleasure!” And Andy rushed into the old cabin, threw down his luggage, and grasped another lad by the hand.
“And I never expected you to come here tonight,” said Chetwood Greene, as a smile lit up his somewhat square face. “I thought I was booked to camp here alone. What brought you, hunting?”
“Not exactly. It’s a long story, Chet. Say, I’m glad you have a fire. I’m half frozen from tramping through the woods. The snow was pretty deep in spots.”
“I know all about it, for I have been out all day. Here, draw up to the blaze. I was just getting supper ready. You’ve got some game, I see. I had very little luck – three rabbits and a wild turkey. I looked for deer, but it was no use.”
“You’ve got to go pretty well back for deer these days,” answered Andy.
“Thought you were going to strike Storburgh for a job.”
“So I did, but it’s the same story everywhere.”
“Too bad! Well, you are no worse off than myself. I’m sick of even asking for work. I’ve about made up my mind to try my luck at hunting. I guess I can bring down enough to live on, and that’s better than starving.”
Chetwood Greene, always called Chet for short, was about the same age as Andy, but a trifle taller. He had a square chin, and dark, piercing eyes, that fairly shot forth fire when Chet was provoked. He was a good fellow in the main, but he had a hasty temper that occasionally got him into much trouble. Andy liked him very much, and the two boys were more or less chums.
There was a mystery surrounding Chet which few folks in that district knew. Many supposed that both of his parents were dead. But the fact of the matter was that Chet’s father disappeared when the lad was fourteen years old. Some thought him dead, while others imagined he had run away to escape punishment incidental to a large transaction in lumber. Some signatures were forged, and it was held that Tolney Greene was guilty. He protested his innocence, but failed to stand trial, running away “between two days,” as it was termed. He was traced to New Bedford, and there it was reported that he had last been seen boarding a sailing vessel outward bound. What had become of him after that, nobody knew.
Mrs. Greene had believed her husband innocent, and it grieved her greatly to be thus deserted. She tried to bear up, however, but during the following winter contracted pneumonia, and died, leaving Chet alone in the world.
Nobody seemed to want anything to do with the lad – thinking him the son of a forger, and possibly a suicide. Some tried to talk to him, but when they mentioned the supposed guilt of his parent, he flew into a rage.
“My father wasn’t guilty, and you needn’t say so!” he stormed. “If you say it I’ll lick you!” And then he knocked one man flat. He was subdued after a while, but he refused utterly to live with those who offered him a home, saying he did not want to be an object of charity, and that he could get along alone. He took his belongings, and a little money left by his mother, and moved to another part of the State – close to where Andy resided. Here he lived with an old guide for a while, and then got employment at one of the lumber camps. The old guide had departed during the past year for the Adirondacks, and Chet was now living alone, in a cabin that had seen better days.
It had been no easy matter for Andy and Chet to become chums. At first when they met, at a lumber camp where both were employed, Chet was silent and morose. But little by little, warmed by Andy’s naturally sunny disposition, he “thawed out,” and told his story in all its details. He knew a few things that the general public did not know, and these he confided to Andy.
“My father went off on a whaler named the Betsey Andrews,” he once said. “He said he would come back some day and clear himself. The mate wrote to my mother that my father’s mind was affected a little, but he hoped he would be all right by the end of the trip.”
“Well, hasn’t the Betsey Andrews got back yet?” had been Andy’s question.
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“That’s the worst part of it – nobody knows.”
“Do you think she was lost?”
“I hope not – but I don’t know,” had been Chet’s somewhat sad answer. He lived in daily hope of hearing from his parent again.
Chet knew Andy’s story, of Josiah Graham’s meanness and laziness, and of the papers left by Andy’s father, and he now listened with deep interest to what his chum had to tell about the visit of Mr. A. Q. Hopton, and of the escape through the bedroom window.
“Now what do you make of the whole thing, Chet?” asked Andy, after he had finished his recital.
“It looks to me as if this real estate dealer was mighty anxious to get the papers,” was the answer. “And that means that the papers are valuable.”
“Just what I think.”
“Your uncle has no right to sell ’em for three hundred dollars, or any other amount,” pursued Chet. “I understand enough about law to know that he’s got to get a court order to sell property. To my way of thinking, he’d like to do this on the sly, and pocket the three hundred. He’s no good, even if he is your uncle.”
“He’s only my father’s half-brother, and he always was a poor stick. I wish I knew of some lawyer to go to.”
“Why not try Mr. Jennings, over at Lodgeport? I’ve heard he’s a good man, and smart, too.”
“I might try him. But it’s a twelve-mile tramp.”
“Never mind, I’ll go along, and we may be able to pick up some game on the way,” answered Chet.
The boys talked the matter over for two hours, during which time Chet prepared supper, and the two ate it. Then Andy fixed the fire for the night, and the boys turned in, tired out from their long tramps through the snow.
It took some time for Andy to get to sleep, for the events of the day had disturbed him greatly. But at last he dozed off, and neither he nor Chet awoke until it was daylight.
“Phew! but it’s cold!” cried Chet, as he put his head out of doors. “And it snowed a little last night, too.”
“Is it snowing now?” questioned Andy, anxiously. His mind was on the trip to Lodgeport. A heavy fall of snow might mean much delay.
“No, the storm is clearing away.”
“Then let us get breakfast and start.”
Both of the youths had been camping so often that they knew exactly what to do. The fire was stirred up, and fresh wood put on, and they prepared a couple of cups of coffee, and broiled two squirrels. They had bread and crackers, and a little cheese, and thus made quite a good breakfast.
The meal over, they lost no time in packing up, and placing the larger portion of their outfits in hiding in the old cabin. To carry them to Lodgeport would have been too much of a load.
“We can carry a little food and our guns,” said Chet.
