He shook his head and pointed to his chest.

“He’s got his wind knocked out,” Raften explained; “he’ll be all right in a minute or two.  Guy, bring some wather.”

Yan told his story and Guy supplied an important chapter.  He had returned earlier than expected, and was near to camp, when he heard the tramp beating Yan.  His first impulse to run home to his puny father was replaced with the wiser one to go for brawny Mr. Raften.

The tramp was now sitting up and grumbling savagely.

“Now, me foine feller,” said William.  “We’ll take ye back to camp for a little visit before we take ye to the ‘Pen.’  A year in the cooler will do ye moore good, Oi’m thinkin’, than anny other tratement.  Here, Guy, you take the end av the rope and fetch the feller to camp, while I help Caleb.”

Guy was in his glory.  The tramp was forced to go ahead; Guy followed, jerking the rope and playing Horse, shouting, “Ch’—­ch’—­ch’—­get up, Horsey,” while William helped old Caleb with a gentleness that recalled a time long ago when Caleb had so helped him after a falling tree had nearly killed him in the woods.

At camp they found Sam.  He was greatly astonished at the procession, for he knew nothing of the day’s events, and fearfully disappointed he was on learning what he had missed.

Caleb still looked white and sick when they got him to the fire, and Raften said, “Sam, go home and get your mother to give you a little brandy.”

“You don’t need to go so far,” said Yan, “for that fellow has a bottle in his pocket.”

“I wouldn’t touch a dhrap of annything he has, let alone give it to a sick friend,” was William’s reply.

So Sam went for the brandy and was back with it in half an hour.

“Here now, Caleb,” said William, “drink that now an’ ye’ll feel better,” and as he offered the cup he felt a little reviving glow of sympathy for his former comrade.

When Sam went home that morning it was with a very clear purpose.  He had gone straight to his mother and told all he knew about the revolver and the misunderstanding with Caleb, and they two had had a long, unsatisfactory interview with the father.  Raften was brutal and outspoken as usual.  Mrs. Raften was calm and clear-witted.  Sam was shrewd.  The result was a complete defeat for William—­a defeat that he would not acknowledge; and Sam came back to camp disappointed for the time being, but now to witness the very thing he had been striving for—­his father and the Trapper reconciled; deadly enemies two hours ago, but now made friends through a fight.  Though overpowered in argument, Raften’s rancour was not abated, but rather increased toward the man he had evidently misused, until the balance was turned by the chance of his helping that man in a time of direst straits.

XXVI

WINNING BACK THE FARM

Oh, the magic of the campfire!  No unkind feeling long withstands its glow.  For men to meet at the same campfire is to come closer, to have better understanding of each other, and to lay the foundations of lasting friendship.  “He and I camped together once!” is enough to explain all cordiality between the men most wide apart, and Woodcraft days are days of memories happy, bright and lifelong.