H.A. Cody

Rod of the Lone Patrol

Warsaw 2019

Contents

I. A Waif Of The Night

II. Giving And Receiving

III. The Widow’s Visit

IV. Rodney Develops

V. Captain Josh Takes A Hand

VI. A New Friend

VII. Chums

VIII. The Chums To The Rescue

IX. Whyn

X. His First “Good Turn”

XI. Miss Arabella’s “Affair”

XII. Scout Work

XIII. The Visit

XIV. Unexpected Assistance

XV. In The City

XVI. Whyn Decides

XVII. Anna Royanna

XVIII. The Way Of The Heart

XIX. The Surprise

XX. The Island Adventure

XXI. The Rounding Up

XXII. A New Adventure

XXIII. First Aid

XXIV. The Prodigal Son

XXV. Drift-Logs

XXVI. The Best “Good-Turn”

XXVII. Jimmy

XXVIII. Excitement At The Anchorage

XXIX. The Troops Decide

XXX. The Night Run

XXXI. Better Than A Fairy Tale

CHAPTER I. A WAIF OF THE NIGHT

Parson Dan chuckled several times as he sipped his hot cocoa before the fire. It was an open fire, and the flames licked around an old dry root which had been brought with other driftwood up from the shore. This brightly-lighted room was a pleasing contrast to the roughness of the night outside, for a strong late October wind was careening over the land. It swirled about the snug Hillcrest rectory, rattling any window which happened to be a little loose, and drawing the forked-tongued flames writhing up the large commodious chimney.

When the third chuckle had been emitted, Mrs. Royal laid aside the paper she had been reading and looked somewhat curiously at her husband.

“The missionary meeting must have been very amusing to-night, Daniel,” she remarked. “It is too bad that I didn’t go.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t the meeting which was amusing,” was the reply. “But I must say it was the best one I ever attended. That missionary had a great story to tell and he told it well. There was a good attendance, too, especially for such a cold night. But you can’t guess, my dear, who was there.”

“The Bishop?”

“No, no,” and the parson rubbed his hands in glee and gave another boyish chuckle. “Give it up, eh?” and his eyes sparkled as he turned them upon his wife’s puzzled face.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. You could never guess, for you would never think of Captain Josh.”

“No, surely not, Daniel!” and Mrs. Royal, now all attention, drew her chair a little closer to the fire. “What in the world took him there to-night? I never knew him to go to church, let alone to a missionary meeting.”

“Oh, that is easily explained, dear. His only son, you know, is in the Yukon, and he was anxious to hear about that country. He was certainly the most interested person there, and after the meeting was over, he walked right up to Mr. Dicer and asked him if he had met his son.”

“And had he?” Mrs. Royal inquired.

“Yes; knew him well. Now, the way those two men did talk would have done your heart good. To think of Captain Josh chatting with a missionary, when for years he has been so much down on missions and missionaries. That is one on the old captain, and I shall not forget it when I see him again, ho, ho,” and Parson Dan leaned back in his comfortable chair and fairly shook with merriment.

“I hope that his interest will keep up,” was Mrs. Royal’s comment, as she picked up the paper she had laid aside. “Perhaps he will learn that missionaries are of some use in the world after all.”

“I am afraid not, Martha,” the parson returned, as he reached for his pipe and tobacco lying on a little stand by his side. “It is only his son which made him interested to-night, and that is as far as it goes.”

“It might be the beginning, though, Daniel, who can tell? I always liked Jimmy. He and Alec got on so well together. Do you know what day this is?”

“Ay, ay, Martha,” and the clergyman’s face grew grave, and a slight mistiness dimmed his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten it.”

“He would have been twenty-five to-day, Daniel.”

“I know it, and it seems only yesterday that I went for old Doctor Paddock. It was a night something like this, and I was so afraid that we would not get back in time.”

The fire danced cheerily before them, and the clock on the mantel ticked steadily as the two sat for some time in silence, gazing thoughtfully upon the blazing sticks.

“I dreamed last night that I saw him,” Mrs. Royal at length remarked. “He was a baby, and had on his little white dress. He looked up into my face and smiled, just like he used to do. I gave a cry of joy and put out my arms to take him. At that I awoke, and he disappeared. Oh, Daniel, we didn’t value him enough when we had him–and now he’s gone.”

“And do you remember, Martha, what plans we made for his future? Our hopes have been sadly shattered.”

“We have only his memory with us now, Daniel,” was the quiet reply. “I always think of him as a baby, or as a strong manly boy coming home from school. But for that precious recollection I hardly know how I could bear up at all.”

Scarcely had she finished speaking, when a faint knock sounded upon the front door. They both started and listened attentively, thinking that perhaps it was only the wind. But when the knock was repeated, Parson Dan rose quickly to his feet, crossed the room and entered the outer hall. As he unlocked and opened the front door, a shaving of cold wind whipped into the room, while the inky night rose suddenly before him like a great perpendicular wall. For a few seconds he could see nothing, but as his eyes became accustomed to the blackness, he beheld a dim form standing before him. Then a large bundle was thrust suddenly into his arms, and the figure disappeared. He thought he heard a sob borne on the night air as he stood in the door-way clutching the burden imposed upon him. But perhaps it was only the wailing of the wind he heard. He was too dazed to be sure of himself as he stood there peering forth into the night, expecting some one to enter, or at least to speak and explain the meaning of this strange behaviour. But none of these things happened, so, still bewildered, he closed the door with his foot and made his way back into the living-room.

“Daniel, Daniel! what are you standing there in the draught for?” his wife remonstrated. “You will get your death of cold.”

She ceased abruptly, however, when she saw her husband enter with the strange bundle in his arms.

“What is it?” she gasped, rising quickly to her feet.

“Don’t know,” was the reply. “It’s alive, anyway, whatever it is, for it’s beginning to wriggle. Here, take it.”

But Mrs. Royal shrank back, and raised her hands as if to protect herself.

“It won’t hurt you, dear. What are you afraid of?”

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