Love stories; Lumber trade -- Fiction; Maine -- Fiction
"That's the way you and your kind want to cure everything--a dollar
bill greased with a grin and stuck onto the sore place! Put that kind of
a plaster on your city sneaks if you want to. But do you think I want
it--here?" He swung his arm in a huge gesture and embraced the woods.
"Your money is no good, John Barrett--here!" Another sweep of the long
arm. Then he stooped and scrabbled up a handful of dry leaves. He pushed
them into Barrett's face. "Here, sell me your soul and your decency for
that! You won't? Why not? You get your handfuls of greasy money just as
easy! You only grab out and take! I don't sell for any stuff that's come
at as easy as that."
"Say what you want, Lane," stuttered the timber baron, huddling back
from this madman.
"You'll pay in the way I'll tell you to pay," raged the creditor,
thrusting his fierce face close. "You'll pay out of your pride and your
heart instead of your pocket. That's the kind of coin you've stripped me
of! You stole my wife. She's dead. Settle your accounts with her in hell
when you meet her there. But the girl--your young one--yours and
hers--that you threw into the woods like you'd leave a blind kitten--"
"She was left with people who were paid well--" Barrett broke in, but
Lane slapped him across the mouth.
"I know where she was left--left with a nest of skunks, so that you
could hide your disgrace in the woods. I've watched her all these years.
I've been waiting for the right time to come. It's here. Your girl is up
there on the top of Jerusalem Mountain in my camp, Barrett. An idiot--a
dog on two legs--is guarding her. He's the only friend she's got. That's
your daughter. Now, you're going to take her!"
"Take her?" echoed the cringing millionaire.
"Take her--that's what I said. It belongs to her. Now give it to her."
Barrett misinterpreted Lane's interest. His face lighted with a sudden
thought that to him seemed a happy one.
"Look here, Lane," he said, eagerly, "I didn't realize but what the girl
was getting on all right. I ought to have inquired. But I didn't dare
to. A man in my position has to be careful. Now she needs some one to
take care of her. I'll admit it. I'm sorry it hasn't been attended to
before. Let this matter rest between us two without any stir. I'll give
you ten thousand dollars to act as the girl's guardian. Take her out of
these woods. And I'll put ten thousand more at interest for her."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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