THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN By James Oliver Curwood Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co I There are not many who will remember him as Thomas Jefferson Brown. Forten years he had been mildly ashamed of himself, and out of respect forpeople who were dead, and for a dozen or so who were living, he had thegood taste to drop his last name. The fact that it was only Brown didn'tmatter. "Tack Thomas Jefferson to Brown, " he said, "and you've got a name thatsticks!" It had an aristocratic sound; and Thomas Jefferson, with the Brown cutoff, was still aristocratic, when you came to count the red corpusclesin him. In some sort of way he was related to two dead Presidents, threedead army officers, a living college professor, and a few common people. He was legitimately born to the purple, but fate had sent him off on acurious ricochet in a game all of its own, and changed him from ThomasJefferson Brown into just plain Thomas Jefferson without the Brown. He was one of those specimens who, when you meet them, somehow make youfeel there are a few lost kings of the earth, as well as lost lambs. Hewas what we called a "first-sighter"--that is, you liked him the instantyou looked at him. You knew without further acquaintance that he was aman whom you could trust with your money, your friendship--anything youhad. He was big, with a wholesome brown face, blond hair, and grayeyes that seemed always to be laughing and twinkling, even when he washungry. He carried about with him a load of cheerfulness so big that itwas constantly spilling over on other people. There was a time when Thomas Jefferson Brown had little white cardswith his name on them. That was when he went to college, and his lungsweren't so good. It was then that some big doctor told him that if hewanted to live to have grandchildren, the best thing for him to do wasto "tramp it" for a time--live out of doors, sleep out of doors, donothing but breathe fresh air and walk. That doctor was Fate, playinghis game behind a pair of spectacles and a bumpy forehead. He savedThomas Jefferson Brown, all right; but he turned him into plain ThomasJefferson. For Thomas Jefferson Brown never got over taking his medicine. He kepton tramping. He got big and broad and happy. Somewhere, perhaps in abarn, he caught a microbe that made him dislike ordinary work. He wouldset to and help a farmer saw wood all day, just for company and grub;but you couldn't hire him to go into an office, or settle down toanything steady, for twenty-five dollars a day. He had a scientific namefor the thing that was in him--the _wanderlust_ bug, I think he calledit; and he said it was better than the Chinese lady-bugs that thegovernment imports to save California fruit. The nearest Thomas Jefferson ever came to going back to Thomas JeffersonBrown was when he took a job at braking on the Southern Pacific. Thatheld him for three, days less than two weeks. "The _wanderlust_ bug wouldn't stand for it, " he explained. Right after that he struck a farmer's house where the farmer was sick, almost dying, with three little kids and a frail little woman tryingto keep things up. He worked like ten men for more than a month on thatfarm, and when he went away he wouldn't take a cent. That's the sort ofne'er-do-well Thomas Jefferson was. He wouldn't beg. He'd go three days without grub, and laugh all thetime. It was mostly in the country and in small villages that he madehis living. He could play seven different kinds of instruments withoutany instruments at all. Did it all with his mouth. And the kids--theywent wild over him. In return for his entertainment, Thomas Jeffersonwasn't ashamed to take whatever came to him in the way of odd nickelsand dimes. Once the manager of a vaudeville house heard him on a street corner, andoffered him a job at fifty a week if he'd sign a contract for a dozenweeks. "Good Lord, " said Thomas Jefferson, "I wouldn't know what to do with sixhundred dollars!" The next week he was cooking in a lumber-camp for his board. That'sThomas Jefferson--or, rather, that's what he was. And now we're coming to the girl who killed the bug in ThomasJefferson--and rescued the king. She was born swell. She has blueeyes--the sort that can light up a dark day, and can make your head turndizzy when they smile at you. And she's got the right sort of hair togo with 'em--red and gold and brown all mixed up, until you can't tellwhich is which; the sort that makes you wonder if some big artist hasn'tbeen painting a picture for you, when you see it out in the sunshine. She comes of a titled family, but she'd want to die to-morrow if ThomasJefferson Brown didn't worship her from the tips of her little toes tothe top of her pretty head. She thinks he's a king. And he is--one ofthose great, big, healthy kings that nature sometimes grows when it hashalf a chance. II It's curious how the whole thing happened. Thomas Jefferson wandered upto Portland at the time we were fitting out a ship for a whaling cruise. We saw him imitating a banjo for a lot of kids down on the wharf, andthe minute our eyes lit on him--Tucker's and mine--we liked him. Itisn't necessary to go into the details of what happened after that. Justa week later, when Thomas Jefferson and I were shaking hands for thelast time, a queer sort of look came into his eyes, and he said: "Bobby, you're the first man I ever knew that makes me feel like cryingwhen you leave me. " He said it just like one of the kids he'd tickled half to death on thewharf. There was a little jerking in his throat, and there came into hisface a look so gentle that it made me think of a girl. "Why don't you come along on this cruise with me?" I said. Thomas Jefferson gave a sudden start, and a queer expression came intohis eyes, as if he saw something out on the sea that had startled him. Then he laughed. You could hear that laugh of Thomas Jefferson's threeblocks away, and sunshine in winter couldn't bring more cheer than thesound of it. He looked at me for a moment, and then said: "Bobby, I'll go!" It wasn't forty-eight hours before Thomas Jefferson had a first mortgageon every soul aboard the "Sleeping Sealer, " from the cap'n to the oilerdown in the engine-room. He was able, all right, but you couldn't havemade an able seaman out of him in a hundred years. For all that, he didthe work of three men. The first thing you heard when you woke up in themorning was his whistle, and the last thing you heard at night was hislaugh or his song. He did everything, from cooking to telling us whyGermany couldn't lick England, and how the United States could clean upthe map of the earth if Congress would spend less money on job-makingbureaus and a little more on war-ships. Then we discovered what was in the old alligator-skin valise he carried. It was books. Half the time he didn't have to read to us, but justtalked off the stuff he'd learned by heart. We got to know a lot beforethe trip was half begun, just by associating with Thomas JeffersonBrown--or Thomas Jefferson, as he was then. We spent three months up about the Spicer Islands, and then came downtoward Southampton Land. Thomas Jefferson was the happiest man aboarduntil we caught sight of a coast, and then the change began. After thathe'd get restless whenever land hove in sight. Six weeks later we came down into Roes Welcome Sound, planning to getout through Hudson Strait before winter set in. The fact that we werealmost homeward bound didn't seem to affect Thomas Jefferson. I saw thebeginning of the end when he said to me one day: "Bobby, I've never seen this northern country. It's a big, gloriouscountry, and I'd like to go ashore. " There wasn't any use arguing with him. The cap'n tried it, we all triedit, and at last Thomas Jefferson prepared to take his leave of us atPoint Fullerton, just eight hundred miles north of civilization, wherethere's an Eskimo village and a police station of the Royal NorthwestMounted. He came to me the day before we were going to take him ashore, and said: "Bobby, why don't you come along? Let's chum it, old man, and see whathappens. " When he went ashore, the next day, I went with him, and we each tookthree months' supply of grub and our pay. From that hour there began thebig change--the change which turned Thomas Jefferson back into ThomasJefferson Brown, and which it took a girl to finish. It came first in his eyes, and then in his laugh. After that he seemedto grow an inch or two taller, and he lost that careless, shiftless waywhich comes of what he called the _wanderlust_ bug. There wasn't somuch laughter in his eyes, but something better had taken its place--adeeper, grayer, more thoughtful look, and he didn't play those queerthings with his mouth any more. The police at Point Fullerton hardly had a glimpse of him as thebig, sunny, loose-jointed giant, Thomas Jefferson. He had become abronze-bearded god, with the strength of five men in his splendidshoulders, and a port to his head that made you think of a piece ofsculpture. "You can't be anything but a _man_ up here, Bobby, " he said one day, andI knew what he meant. "It's not the air, it's not the cold, and it's notthe fight you make to keep life in your body, " he added, "but it'sGod! That's what it is, Bobby. There's not a sound or a sight up here, outside of that little cabin, that's human. It's all God--there'snothing else--and it makes you think!" III It was spring when we came down to Fort Churchill, and it was summerwhen we struck York Factory. It was the middle of one of those summerdays when strawberries ripen even up there, that the last prop fell outfrom under Thomas Jefferson, and he became Thomas Jefferson Brown. Hemet Lady Isobel. The title did not really belong to her, for she wasonly the cousin of Lord Meton; but Thomas Jefferson Brown called herthat from the first. It was down close to the boats, where their launch lay, and the wind hadfrolicked with Lady Isobel's hair until it rippled about her faceand shoulders like a net of spun gold. She was bareheaded, and he wasbareheaded, and they stared for a moment, her blue eyes flashing intohis gray ones; and then there came into her face a color like rose, andhe bowed, as one of the old-time Presidents might have bowed to ahair-powdered beauty in the days when the Capitol was young. That was the beginning, and to his honor be it said that ThomasJefferson Brown never revealed that he was a gentleman born, though hisheart was stricken with love at that first sight of Lady Isobel's lovelyface. Lord Meton wanted a man--one who could handle a canoe and shouldertwo hundred pounds of duff; and "Tom" became the man, working like aslave for a month; but always with the pride and bearing of a king. It wasn't difficult to see what was happening. Lord Meton saw, andunderstood; but he knew that the proud blood in Lady Isobel was aninvulnerable armor that would protect her from indiscretion. And as forThomas Jefferson Brown-- "Bobby, " he said, standing up straight and tall, "if she can only love agentleman, and not a man, what's the use of playing cards?" One day, when he had to carry Lady Isobel ashore from a big York boat, something inside him got the best of his arms, and he held her tight--sotight that her eyes came down to his with a frightened look, and heheard a breath come from her that was almost a sob. They gazed at eachother for a moment, and it was then that Thomas Jefferson Brown told herthat he loved her--not in words, but in a way that she understood. When he set her down on shore she was as white as death. From that dayshe treated him a little coolly--up to the last moment, out on the bay. It was a bright, sunshiny day when the three--Lord Meton, Lady Isobel, and Thomas Jefferson Brown--set off in a big birchbark canoe, bound forHarrison's Island, a dozen miles out from the mainland. But you can'ttell much about sunshine and calm on Hudson Bay. They're like a jealouswoman's smile, masking something hidden. Four miles out, the wind cameup; midway between the island and the mainland, it was a small gale. Even at that, Thomas Jefferson Brown would have made it all right if thebeat of the sea hadn't broken a rotten thread under the bow, letting thebirch seam part with a suddenness that sent a little spurt of water upinto Lady Isobel's face. What? No, this isn't going to have the regulation hero-act end, inwhich Thomas Jefferson Brown saves the life of the lady he loves. It'ssomething different--something that Thomas Jefferson Brown never guessedat when the water spurted in, and Lady Isobel turned to him with alittle scream, her beautiful blue eyes wide and filled with horror. "Don't be afraid, " he said. "Here, take this jacket and hold it downtight over the seam. We'll reach the island, all right. " Lady Isobel held the jacket over the hole, and Thomas Jefferson Brownput a strength into his paddle that threatened to crack off the handle. After a minute or two, he saw a little trickle of water, beginning toooze in about the edges of the jacket. He leaned back for an instant, and signaled Lord Meton to bend over toward him. "Take off your clothes, " he said, so low that Lady Isobel couldn't hear. "Can you swim?" "Not a stroke, " said Lord Meton, and his face went as white as chalk;but it was no whiter than Thomas Jefferson Brown's. When a birchbark seam begins to part there's no power on earth that willhold it when the canoe is heavily loaded. A few minutes later, the waterwas gushing in by the quart about Lady Isobel's feet. She fought hardto hold it back. When at last she saw that it was hopeless, she turnedagain, to see Lord Meton in his underwear, and Thomas Jefferson Brownstripped of everything but his shirt and his buckskin trousers, whichdon't water-sog. He laughed straight into her face, as if it was all anamusing joke; and then, suddenly, he began playing that banjo thing withhis mouth. It was all so strange, with the beat of the sea, the wail of the wind, and Thomas Jefferson Brown sitting there as if nothing were happening, that Lady Isobel just stared in astonishment, while the water gushed inabout her. At last he put down his paddle, and stretched out both hands;and it seemed the most natural thing in the world that her two handsshould come out to meet his. "Listen, " he said, and his eyes were telling her again what they toldher on the day when he brought her in from the York boat. "You'll do asI tell you, won't you? And you won't be afraid?" For an instant Lady Isobel looked at Lord Meton, shrinking and shiveringin the stern of the canoe; and then she looked back to the other man'sface, and blue fires seemed to leap into her eyes. "With _you_--no, I'm not afraid, " she said. She leaned toward him, nearer and nearer, as the water rose about them, looking straight into his eyes. They both knew in that moment that itwas the man and the woman who had triumphed, and that for them the ladyand the gentleman were dead. "I'm not afraid--with you, " she said again. Her lips trembled, and her golden hair swept over his breast, and ThomasJefferson Brown bent down and kissed her once upon the mouth. Then hesaid, as if he were speaking to a little girl: "Do not be afraid, and hold to the edge of the canoe when it fills. Thewind will carry us to Harrison's Island. " He turned to Lord Meton, and repeated the words; and just then thebirchbark began to settle under them. With one hand gripping the side, Thomas Jefferson Brown leaped over the sea. Lower and lower settled thecanoe with almost a scream, Lord Meton cried above the wind: "Good Lord, it won't hold us up!" For a few moments Thomas Jefferson relieved the canoe of his weight, andthe bark rose again, slowly. Then, with a gasp, he clutched at the sideagain, and into Lady Isobel's drenched face, half hid the wet veil ofher shining hair. "The canoe won't hold us all up, " he said trying to smile. "But it willhold two--you two and the wind is taking it to the island, four miles tothe island, and I may be make it. " He knew that he never could make it; no man could swim so far in thechill waters of Hudson Bay; but he spoke as if his words were "I'm goingto let go and try. Isobel, my love, will you kiss me?" She threw one arm about his neck. Meton, clutching with frantic terrorto the canoe saw nothing of what happened, nor did he hear the sobbingcry of Lady Isobel's heart as she kissed Thomas Jefferson Brown, once, and then three times, before he dropped back into the sea again. "Good-by, sweetheart!" he said. In the eyes that looked up at her, in his eyes in the one last look oflove that he said, "Good-by. " Lady Isobel saw the truth, and stretchedout her arm to him. "Stop! Come back! Take me with you!" she cried. "I want to go with you!" And there, in the wildness of that sea, four miles from shore, ThomasJefferson Brown seemed to heave himself up out of the water, as if thestrength of a thousand swimmers had suddenly come to him. He let out acry of triumph, of love, of joy; and he came back and gripped the canoeagain, his gray eyes flashing, his face glowing with a strange flush. "You want to go with me?" he said. "Come!" He held up his arms, and with a cry that wasn't fear Lady Isobel wentinto them, while Thomas Jefferson Brown called to Lord Meton: "Stick to the canoe! It will take you to the island!" IV The shore was a low, dark streak, four miles away--an appalling distanceaway; but as she clung lightly to his shoulders, as Thomas JeffersonBrown told her to do, the horror and the fear of the big sea went outof Lady Isobel's brave little heart. She put her face down against hisneck, pulled back his wet hair, and kissed him. God bless all such truehearts, wherever they be! "We'll make it, Tom--we'll make it!" she told him a hundred times. He felt the warm caresses of her lips, the thrilling love of her voice, and he knew that she was ready to die with him. He swam in a strange way--a wonderfully strange way--did ThomasJefferson Brown. He stood almost erect in the water, his head andshoulders clear; and now and then he stopped to rest, and it seemed notest for him at all to float with the weight of the woman he loved, hisface turned up to her in those moments, her glorious blue eyes devouringhim, her sweet lips kissing him--still kissing him. He was doing a thing that she knew no other man in the world could do. She kept telling him so, while the land drew nearer and nearer, until atlast she cried out in joy that she could see the little bushes along theshore. "Another mile, Tom!" she said. "Only another mile, and then--" "And then--" he said. "And then--life!" she cried. "Life for you and me!" He went on, seeming to grow stronger as the shore drew nearer. It waswonderful; but at last, when they came to the beach, he dropped downlike a dead man. Lady Isobel caught his head to her dripping breast, androcked him back and forth, sobbing a paean of love and pride, while farout she saw the canoe and Lord Meton drifting shoreward. A few minutes later, Thomas Jefferson Brown went out into the sea again, until he was not much more than a speck, and brought in the canoe andLord Meton, while Lady Isobel stood to her knees in the water, praisingher God that from riches and splendor she had come out into a wildernessto find such a man as this. After that, at York Factory, there was nothing left for Thomas JeffersonBrown to do but to reveal himself, and when Lord Meton discovered thatthere ran as good blood through his rescuer's veins as through hisown, he gripped hands with the man who had saved him, and gave hiscongratulations cm the spot. But it made no difference to Isobel. Ifanything, she was a little disappointed. Thomas Jefferson Brown arranged to go back with them on their yacht. Thewedding would take place in London, a quiet affair. One day Isobel andher lover came along hand in hand, and Thomas Jefferson Brown said tome: "Bobby, you're going to be best man. " "Not best man, " Lady Isobel added, "but second best, Bobby. There's onlyone best man in the world!" But I haven't been able to come to the point of this story yet--theremarkable part of it. Two weeks later, when we were up the riverand our canoe struck a snag, I discovered that Thomas Jefferson Brown"couldn't swim a stroke!" "Good Lord!" I said, but waited. Back at the post, Thomas Jefferson Brown took me into his little room, and said: "Bobby, you've found that I can't swim, and I'm going to trust you witha great secret. Love can accomplish miracles; and love did--out there. For when I let go of the canoe, Bobby, I knew that I was going straightdown to my death. But a wonderful thing happened. " He brought a littlemap from a drawer. "Look at this map, Bobby. See all those little marksoff Harrison's Island--figures--twos and threes and fives, andnothing above sixes? That's the depth of water for five miles out fromHarrison's Island, at low tide; and it was low tide when I jumped fromthe canoe. That's all, Bobby. _I waded ashore_. But what would be thegood of saying anything about it when it brought me love like hers?" Yes, what would be the use? For Thomas Jefferson Brown stepped outdeliberately to go to his death, and found life. He's a hero and a man, is Thomas Jefferson Brown, even if fate did step in to make heroism alittle easy for him at the time!