XLVI

Spring came. Overhead the wild geese flew in long wedges, honking,
into the North, and The Laird remembered how Donald, as a boy, used to
shoot at them with a rifle as they passed over The Dreamerie. Their
honking wakened echoes in his heart. With the winter's supply of logs
now gone, logging operations commenced in the woods with renewed
vigor, the river teemed with rafts, the shouts of the rivermen echoing
from bank to bank. Both Tyee and Darrow were getting out spruce for
the government and ship timbers for the wooden shipyards along San
Francisco Bay.

Business had never been so brisk, and with the addition of the war
duties that came to every community leader, The Laird found some
surcease from his heart-hunger. Mrs. McKaye and the girls had returned
to The Dreamerie, now that Donald's marriage had ceased to interest
anybody but themselves, so old Hector was not so lonely. But--the flag
was flying again at the Sawdust Pile, each day of toil for The Laird
was never complete without an eager search of the casualty lists
published in the Seattle papers.

Spring lengthened into summer. The Marine casualties at Belleau Wood
and Chateau-Thierry appalled The Laird; he read that twenty survivors
of a charge that started two hundred and fifty strong across the wheat
field at Bouresches had taken Bouresches and held it against three
hundred of the enemy--led by Sergeant Daniel J. O'Leary, of Port
Agnew, Washington! Good old Dirty Dan! At last he was finding a
legitimate outlet for his talents! He would get the Distinguished
Service Cross for that! The Laird wondered what Donald would receive.
It would be terrible should Dirty Dan return with the Cross and Donald
McKaye without it.

In September, Donald appeared in the Casualty List as slightly
wounded. Also, he was a first lieutenant now. The Laird breathed
easier, for his son would be out of it for a few months, no doubt. It
was a severe punishment, however, not to be able to discuss his
gallant son with anybody. At home his dignity and a firm adherence to
his previous announcement that his son's name should never be
mentioned in his presence, forbade a discussion with Mrs. McKaye and
the girls; and when he weakly sparred for an opportunity with Andrew
Daney, that stupid creature declined to rise to the bait, or even
admit that he knew of Donald's commission. When told of it, he
expressed neither surprise nor approval.

In November, the great influen