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diff --git a/25922-h/25922-h.htm b/25922-h/25922-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..75766e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/25922-h/25922-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15145 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Masters of the Wheat-Lands, by Harold Bindloss</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.2em} + h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 110%; } + .pncolor {color: silver;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + hr.mini {width: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + div.la p {text-align: left; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.4em} + + h1 {text-align:center; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Masters of the Wheat-Lands, by Harold +Bindloss, Illustrated by Cyrus Cuneo</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Masters of the Wheat-Lands</p> +<p>Author: Harold Bindloss</p> +<p>Release Date: June 28, 2008 [eBook #25922]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASTERS OF THE WHEAT-LANDS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdpcanada.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/wheat-cvr.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 321px; height: 392px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>MASTERS OF THE WHEAT-LANDS</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/wheat-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 356px; height: 503px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 356px;'> +“IT’S GOING TO HURT, GREGORY, BUT I HAVE GOT TO GET YOU IN”—<i>Page</i> 17 +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>Masters of the</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em;'>Wheat-Lands</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p><i>By</i> HAROLD BINDLOSS</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Author of “Thurston of Orchard Valley,” “By Right of</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Purchase,” “Lorimer of the Northwest,” etc.</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/wheat-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 96px; height: 99px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>With Four Illustrations</span></p> +<p>By CYRUS CUNEO</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Publishers</span> <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>New York</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</p> +</div> + +<hr class='mini' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:1em;'>PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER THE TITLE, “HAWTREY’S DEPUTY”</p> +<p><i>October, 1910</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sally Creighton</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_SALLY_CREIGHTON'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sally Takes Charge</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_SALLY_TAKES_CHARGE'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Wyllard Assents</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_WYLLARD_ASSENTS'>22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Crisis</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_A_CRISIS'>33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Old Country</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_THE_OLD_COUNTRY'>44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Her Picture</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_HER_PICTURE'>55</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Agatha Does Not Flinch</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_AGATHA_DOES_NOT_FLINCH'>66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Traveling Companion</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_TRAVELING_COMPANION'>78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Fog</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_THE_FOG'>92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Disillusion</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_DISILLUSION'>104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Agatha’s Decision</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_AGATHA_S_DECISION'>117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Wanderers</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_WANDERERS'>130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Summons</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_THE_SUMMONS'>143</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Agatha Proves Obdurate</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_AGATHA_PROVES_OBDURATE'>154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Beach</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_BEACH'>165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The First Ice</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_THE_FIRST_ICE'>177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Defeat</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_DEFEAT'>187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Delicate Errand</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_A_DELICATE_ERRAND'>199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Prior Claim</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_THE_PRIOR_CLAIM'>209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The First Stake</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_THE_FIRST_STAKE'>223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Gregory Makes Up His Mind</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_GREGORY_MAKES_UP_HIS_MIND'>234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Painful Revelation</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_A_PAINFUL_REVELATION'>244</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Through The Snow</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_THROUGH_THE_SNOW'>254</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Landing</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_THE_LANDING'>265</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>News of Disaster</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_NEWS_OF_DISASTER'>276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Rescue</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_THE_RESCUE'>287</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In the Wilderness</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_IN_THE_WILDERNESS'>299</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Unexpected</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_THE_UNEXPECTED'>308</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cast Away</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_CAST_AWAY'>320</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Last Effort</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXX_THE_LAST_EFFORT'>331</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Wyllard Comes Home</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXI_WYLLARD_COMES_HOME'>342</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em; margin-top:bold;'>Masters of the Wheat-lands</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_SALLY_CREIGHTON' id='I_SALLY_CREIGHTON'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>SALLY CREIGHTON</h3> +</div> + +<p>The frost outside was bitter, and the prairie which rolled +back from Lander’s in long undulations to the far horizon, +gleamed white beneath the moon, but there was +warmth and brightness in Stukely’s wooden barn. The +barn stood at one end of the little, desolate settlement, +where the trail that came up from the railroad thirty +miles away forked off into two wavy ribands melting into +a waste of snow. Lander’s consisted then of five or six +frame houses and stores, a hotel of the same material, +several sod stables, and a few birch-log barns; and its +inhabitants considered it one of the most promising places +in Western Canada. That, however, is the land of promise, +a promise which is in due time usually fulfilled, and +the men of Lander’s were, for the most part, shrewdly +practical optimists. They made the most of a somewhat +grim and frugal present, and staked all they had to give—the +few dollars they had brought in with them, and their +powers of enduring toil—upon the roseate future. +</p> +<p>Stukely had given them, and their scattered neighbors, +who had driven there across several leagues of +prairie, a supper in his barn. A big rusty stove, brought +in for the occasion, stood in the center of the barn floor. +Its pipe glowed in places a dull red, and now and then +Stukely wondered uneasily whether it was charring a +larger hole through the shingles of the roof. On one +side of the stove the floor had been cleared; on the other, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +benches, empty barrels and tables were huddled together, +and such of the guests as were not dancing at the moment, +sat upon the various substitutes for chairs. A keg +of hard Ontario cider had been provided for the refreshment +of the guests, and it was open to anybody to ladle +up what he wanted with a tin dipper. A haze of tobacco +smoke drifted in thin blue wisps beneath the big nickeled +lamps, and in addition to the reek of it, the place was +filled with the smell of hot iron which an over-driven +stove gives out, and the subtle odors of old skin coats. +</p> +<p>The guests, however, were accustomed to an atmosphere +of that kind, and it did not trouble them. For the most +part, they were lean, spare, straight of limb and bronzed +by frost and snow-blink, for though scarcely half of +them were Canadian born, the prairie, as a rule, swiftly +sets its stamp upon the newcomer. Also, there was something +in the way they held themselves and put their feet +down that suggested health and vigor, and, in the case +of most of them, a certain alertness and decision of character. +Some were from English cities, a few from those +of Canada, and some from the bush of Ontario; but there +was a similarity among them for which the cut and tightness +of their store clothing did not altogether account. +They lived well, though plainly, and toiled out in the +open unusually hard. Their eyes were steady, their +bronzed skin was clear, and their laughter had a wholesome +ring. +</p> +<p>A fiery-haired Scot, a Highlander, sat upon a barrel-head +sawing at a fiddle, and the shrill scream of it filled +the barn. To tone he did not aspire, but he played with +Caledonian nerve and swing, and kept the snapping time. +It was mad, harsh music of the kind that sets the blood +tingling, causes the feet to move in rhythm, though the +exhilarating effect of it was rather spoiled by the efforts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +of the little French Canadian who had another fiddle and +struck clanging chords from the lower strings. +</p> +<p>In the cleared space they were dancing what was presumably +a quadrille, though it bore almost as great a resemblance +to a Scottish country dance, or indeed to one +of the measures of rural France, which was, however, +characteristic of the present country. +</p> +<p>The Englishman has set no distinguishable impress +upon the prairie. It has absorbed him with his reserve +and sturdy industry, and apparently the Canadian from +the cities is also lost in it, too, for his is the leaven that +works through the mass slowly and unobtrusively, while +the Scot and the habitant of French extraction have given +the life of it color and individuality. Extremes meet +and fuse on the wide white levels of the West. +</p> +<p>An Englishman, however, was the life of that dance, +and he was physically a larger man than most of the rest, +for, as a rule, the Colonial born run to wiry hardness +rather than to solidity of frame. Gregory Hawtrey was +tall and thick of shoulder, though the rest of him was in +fine modeling, and he had a pleasant face of the English +blue-eyed type. Just then it was shining with boyish merriment, +and indeed an irresponsible gayety was a salient +characteristic of the man. One would have called him +handsome, though his mouth was a trifle slack, and though +a certain assurance in his manner just fell short of swagger. +He was the kind of man one likes at first sight, but +for all that not the kind his hard-bitten neighbors would +have chosen to stand by them through the strain of +drought and frost in adverse seasons. +</p> +<p>As it happened, the grim, hard-faced Sager, who had +come there from Michigan, was just then talking about +him to Stukely. +</p> +<p>“Kind of tone about that man—guess he once had the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +gold-leaf on him quite thick, and it hasn’t all worn off +yet,” said Sager. “Seen more Englishmen like him, +and some folks from Noo York, too, when I took parties +bass fishing way back yonder.” +</p> +<p>He waved his hand vaguely, as though to indicate the +American Republic, and Stukely agreed with him. They +were right as far as they went, for Hawtrey undoubtedly +possessed a grace of manner which, however, somehow +failed to reach distinction. It was, perhaps, just a little +too apparent, and lacked the strengthening feature of +restraint. +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” remarked Stukely reflectively, “what +those kind of fellows done before they came out here.” +</p> +<p>He had expressed a curiosity which is now and then +to be met with on the prairie, but Sager, the charitable, +grinned. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” he responded, “I guess quite a few done no +more than make their folks on the other side tired of +them, and that’s why they sent them out to you. Some of +them get paid so much on condition that they don’t come +back again. Say”—and he glanced toward the dancers—“Dick +Creighton’s Sally seems quite stuck on Hawtrey +by the way she’s looking at him.” +</p> +<p>Stukely assented. He was a somewhat primitive person, +as was Sally Creighton, for that matter, and he did +not suppose that she would have been greatly offended +had she overheard his observations. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “I’ve thought that, too. If she wants +him she’ll get him. She’s a smart girl—Sally.” +</p> +<p>There were not many women present—perhaps one to +every two of the men, which was rather a large proportion +in that country, and their garments were not at all +costly or beautiful. The fabrics were, for the most part, +the cheapest obtainable, and the wearers had fashioned +their gowns with their own fingers, in the scanty interludes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +between washing, and baking, and mending their +husbands’ or fathers’ clothes. The faces of the women +were a trifle sallow and had lost their freshness in the dry +heat of the stove. Their hands were hard and reddened, +and in figure most of them were thin and spare. One +could have fancied that in a land where everybody toiled +strenuously their burden was heavier than the men’s. One +or two of the women clearly had been accustomed to a +smoother life, but there was nothing to suggest that they +looked back to it with regret. As a matter of fact, they +looked forward, working for the future, and there was +patient courage in their smiling eyes. +</p> +<p>Creighton’s Sally, who was then tripping through the +measure on Hawtrey’s arm, was native born. She was +young and straight—straighter in outline than the women +of the cities—with a suppleness which was less suggestive +of the willow than a rather highly-tempered spring. She +moved with a large vigor which barely fell short of grace, +her eyes snapped when she smiled at Hawtrey, and her +hair, which was of a ruddy brown, had fiery gleams in it. +Anyone would have called her comely, and there were, +indeed, no women in Stukely’s barn to compare with her +in that respect, a fact that she recognized. +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” said Sager reflectively; “she’ll get him +sure if she sets her mind on it, and there’s no denying +that they make a handsome pair. I’ve nothing against +Hawtrey either: a straight man, a hustler, and smart at +handling a team. Still, it’s kind of curious that while +the man’s never been stuck for the stamps like the rest +of us, he’s made nothing very much of his homestead yet. +Now there’s Bob, and Jake, and Jasper came in after he +did with half the money, and they thrash out four bushels +of hard wheat for Hawtrey’s three.” +</p> +<p>Stukely made a little gesture of concurrence, for he +dimly realized the significance of his companion’s speech. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +It is results which count in that country, where the one +thing demanded is practical efficiency, and the man of +simple, steadfast purpose usually goes the farthest. Hawtrey +had graces which won him friends, boldness of conception, +and the power of application; but he had somehow +failed to accomplish as much as his neighbors did. +After all, there must be a good deal to be said for the +man who raises four bushels of good wheat where his +comrade with equal facilities raises three. +</p> +<p>In the meanwhile Hawtrey was talking to Sally, and it +was not astonishing that they talked of farming, which +is the standard topic on that strip of prairie. +</p> +<p>“So you’re not going to break that new piece this +spring?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Hawtrey; “I’d want another team, +anyway, and I can’t raise the money; it’s hard to get out +here.” +</p> +<p>“Plenty under the sod,” declared Sally, who was essentially +practical. “That’s where we get ours, but you +have to put the breaker in and turn it over. You”—and +she flashed a quick glance at him—“got most of +yours from England. Won’t they send you any more?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head. “I’m +afraid they won’t,” he replied. “You see, I’ve put the +screw on them rather hard the last few years.” +</p> +<p>“How did you do that?” Sally inquired. “Told them +you were thinking of coming home again?” +</p> +<p>There was a certain wryness in the young man’s smile, +for though Hawtrey had cast no particular slur upon +the family’s credit he had signally failed to enhance it, +and he was quite aware that his English relatives did not +greatly desire his presence in the Old Country. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” he said, “you really shouldn’t hit a fellow +in the eye that way.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></p> +<p>As it happened, he did not see the girl’s face just then, +or he might have noticed a momentary change in its +expression. Gregory Hawtrey was a little casual in +speech, but, so far, most of the young women upon whom +he bestowed an epithet indicative of affection had attached +no significance to it. They had wisely decided that he +did not mean anything. +</p> +<p>The Scottish fiddler’s voice broke in. +</p> +<p>“Can ye no’ watch the music? Noo it’s paddy-bash!” +he cried. +</p> +<p>His French Canadian comrade waved his fiddle-bow +protestingly. +</p> +<p>“Paddybashy! <i>V’la la belle chose!</i>” he exclaimed +with ineffable contempt, and broke in upon the ranting +melody with a succession of harsh, crashing chords. +</p> +<p>Then began a contest as to which could drown the +other’s instrument, and the snapping time grew faster, +until the dancers gasped, and men who wore long boots +encouraged them with cries and stamped a staccato accompaniment +upon the benches or on the floor. It was +savage, rasping music, but one player infused into it the +ebullient nerve of France, and the other was from the +misty land where the fiddler learns the witchery of the +clanging reel and the swing of the Strathspey. It is +doubtless not high art, but there is probably no music in +the world that fires the blood like this and turns the sober +dance to rhythmic riot. Perhaps, too, amid the prairie +snow, it gains something that gives it a closer compelling +grip. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey was breathless when it ceased, and Sally’s +eyes flashed with the effulgence of the Northern night +when her partner found her a resting-place upon an upturned +barrel. +</p> +<p>“No,” she declared, “I won’t have any cider.” She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +turned and glanced at him imperiously. “You’re not +going for any more either.” +</p> +<p>It was, no doubt, not the speech a well-trained English +maiden would have made, but, though Hawtrey smiled +rather curiously, it fell inoffensively from Sally’s lips. +Though it is not always set down to their credit, the +brown-faced, hard-handed men as a rule live very abstemiously +in that country, and, as it happened, Hawtrey, +who certainly showed no sign of it, had already consumed +rather more cider than anybody else. He made a little +bow of submission, and Sally resumed their conversation +where it had broken off. +</p> +<p>“We could let you have our ox-team to do that breaking +with,” she volunteered. “You’ve had Sproatly living +with you all winter. Why don’t you make him stay +and work out his keep?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed. “Sally,” he said, “do you think +anybody could make Sproatly work?” +</p> +<p>“It would be hard,” the girl admitted, and then looked +up at him with a little glint in her eyes. “Still, I’d +put a move on him if you sent him along to me.” +</p> +<p>She was a capable young woman, but Hawtrey was +dubious concerning her ability to accomplish such a task. +Sproatly was an Englishman of good education, though +his appearance seldom suggested it. Most of the summer +he drove about the prairie in a wagon, vending cheap +oleographs and patent medicines, and during the winter +contrived to obtain free quarters from his bachelor acquaintances. +It is a hospitable country, but there were +men round Lander’s who, when they went away to work in +far-off lumber camps, as they sometimes did, nailed up +their doors and windows to prevent Sproatly from getting +in. +</p> +<p>“Does he never do anything?” Sally added. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></p> +<p>“No,” Hawtrey assured her, “at least, never when he +can help it. He had, however, started something shortly +before I left him. You see, the house has needed cleaning, +the last month or two, and we tossed up for who +should do it. It fell to Sproatly, who didn’t seem quite +pleased, but he got as far as firing the chairs and tables +out into the snow. Then he sat down for a smoke, and +he was looking at them through the window when I drove +away.” +</p> +<p>“Ah,” commented Sally, “you want somebody to keep +the house straight and look after you. Didn’t you know +any nice girls back there in the Old Country?” +</p> +<p>She spoke naturally, and there was nothing to show +that the girl’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual +as she watched Hawtrey. His face, however, grew a trifle +graver, for she had touched upon a momentous question +to such men as he. Living in Spartan simplicity upon +the prairie, there are a good many of them, well-trained, +well-connected young Englishmen, and others like them +from Canadian cities. They naturally look for some +grace of culture or refinement in the woman they would +marry, and there are few women of the station to which +they once belonged who could face the loneliness and unassisted +drudgery that must be borne by the small wheat-grower’s +wife. There were also reasons why this question +had been troubling Hawtrey in particular of late. +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, of course, I knew nice girls in England, one +or two,” he answered. “I’m not quite sure, however, that +girls of that kind would find things even moderately comfortable +here.” +</p> +<p>A certain reflectiveness in his tone, which seemed to +indicate that he had already given the matter some consideration, +jarred upon Sally. Moreover, she had an +ample share of the Western farmer’s pride, which firmly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +declines to believe that there is any land to compare with +the one the plow is slowly wresting from the wide white +levels of the prairie. +</p> +<p>“We make out well enough,” she asserted with a snap +in her eyes. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey made an expressive gesture. “Oh, yes,” he +admitted, “it’s in you. All you want in order to beat +the wilderness and turn it into a garden is an ax, a span +of oxen, and a breaker plow. You ought to be proud of +your energy. Still, you see, our folks back yonder aren’t +quite the same as you.” +</p> +<p>Sally partly understood him. “Ah,” she replied, +“they want more, and, perhaps, they’re used to having +more than we have; but isn’t that in one way their misfortune? +Is it what folks want, or what they can do, +that makes them of use to anybody else?” +</p> +<p>There was a hard truth in her suggestion, but Hawtrey, +who seldom occupied himself with matters of that +kind, smiled. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” he said, “I don’t know; but, after all, it +wouldn’t be worth while for us to raise wheat here unless +there were folks back East to eat it, and, if some of them +only eat in the shape of dainty cakes, that doesn’t affect +the question. Anyway, there will be but another dance +or two, and I was wondering whether I could drive you +home; I’ve got Wyllard’s Ontario sleigh.” +</p> +<p>Sally glanced at him rather sharply. She had half-expected +this offer, and it is possible would have judiciously +led him up to it if he had not made it. Now, as she saw +that he really wished to drive her home, she was glad +that she had not deliberately encouraged the invitation. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered softly, “I think you could.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” said Hawtrey, “if you’ll wait ten minutes +I’ll be back with the team.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_SALLY_TAKES_CHARGE' id='II_SALLY_TAKES_CHARGE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>SALLY TAKES CHARGE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The night was clear and bitterly cold when Hawtrey and +Sally Creighton drove away from Stukely’s barn. Winter +had lingered unusually long that year, and the prairie +gleamed dimly white, with the sledge trail cutting athwart +it, a smear of blue-gray in the foreground. It was—for +Lander’s lay behind them with the snow among the +stubble belts that engirdled it—an empty wilderness that +the mettlesome team swung across, and during the first +few minutes the cold struck through the horses with a +sting like the thrust of steel. A half moon, coppery red +with frost, hung low above the snow-covered earth, and +there was no sound but the crunch beneath the runners, +and the beat of hoofs that rang dully through the silence +like a roll of muffled drums. +</p> +<p>Sleighs like the one that Hawtrey drove are not common +on the prairie, where the farmer generally uses the +humble bob-sled when the snow lies unusually long. It +had been made for use in Montreal, and bought back East +by a friend of Hawtrey’s, who was possessed of some +means, which is a somewhat unusual thing in the case of +a Western wheat-grower. This man also had bought the +team—the fastest he could obtain—and when the warmth +came back to the horses Hawtrey and the girl became conscious +of the exhilaration of the swift and easy motion. +The sleigh was light and narrow, and Hawtrey, who drew +the thick driving-robe higher about Sally, did not immediately +draw the mittened hand he had used back again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +The girl did not resent the fact that it still rested behind +her shoulder, nor did Hawtrey attach any particular significance +to the fact. He was a man who usually acted +on impulse. How far Sally understood him did not appear, +but she came of folk who had waged a stubborn +battle with the wilderness, and there was a vein of grim +tenacity in her. +</p> +<p>She was, however, conscious that there was something +beneath her feet which forced her, if she was to sit comfortably, +rather close against her companion; and it +seemed expedient to point it out. +</p> +<p>“Can’t you move a little? I can’t get my feet fixed +right,” she said. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey looked down at her with a smile. “I’m afraid +I can’t unless I get right outside. Aren’t you happy +there?” +</p> +<p>It was the kind of speech he was in the habit of making, +but there was rather more color in the girl’s face +than the stinging night air brought there, and she glanced +at the bottom of the sleigh. +</p> +<p>“It’s a sack of some kind, isn’t it?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” Hawtrey answered, “it’s a couple of three-bushel +bags. Some special seed Lorton sent to Winnipeg +for. Ormond brought them out from the railroad. +I promised I’d take them along to him.” +</p> +<p>“You should have told me. It’s most a league round +by Lorton’s place,” Sally returned with reproach in her +voice. +</p> +<p>“That won’t take long with this team. Have you any +great objections to another fifteen minutes’ drive with +me?” +</p> +<p>Sally looked up at him, and the moonlight was on her +face, which was unusually pretty in the radiance of the +brilliant night. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“No,” she admitted, “I haven’t any.” +</p> +<p>She spoke demurely, but there was a perceptible something +in her voice which might have warned the man, +had he been in the habit of taking warning from anything, +which, however, was not the case. It was one of +his weaknesses that he seldom thought about what he did +until he was compelled to face the consequences; and it +was, perhaps, to his credit that he had after all done very +little harm, for there was hot blood in him. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he responded, “I’m not going to grumble about +those extra three miles, but you were asking what land +I meant to break this spring. What put that into your +mind?” +</p> +<p>“Our folks,” Sally replied candidly. “They were talking +about you.” +</p> +<p>This again was significant, but Hawtrey did not +notice it. +</p> +<p>“I’ve no doubt they said I ought to tackle the new +quarter section,” he suggested. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” assented Sally. “Why don’t you do it? Last +fall you thrashed out quite a big harvest.” +</p> +<p>“I certainly did. There, however, didn’t seem to be +many dollars left over when I’d faced the bills.” +</p> +<p>The girl made a little gesture of impatience. “Oh, +Bob and Jake and Jasper sowed on less backsetting,” she +said, “and they’re buying new teams and plows. Can’t +you do what they do, though I guess they don’t go off +for weeks to Winnipeg?” +</p> +<p>The man was silent. He had an incentive for hard +work about which she was ignorant, and he had certainly +done much, but the long, iron winter, when there was +nothing that could be done, had proved too severe a test +for him. It was very dreary sitting alone evening after +evening beside the stove, and the company of the somnolent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +Sproatly was not cheerful. Now and then his pleasure-loving +nature had revolted from the barrenness of his +lot when, stiff and cold, he drove home from an odd visit +to a neighbor, and arriving in the dark found the stove +had burned out and water had frozen hard inside the +house. These were things his neighbors patiently endured, +but Hawtrey had fled for life and brightness to +Winnipeg. +</p> +<p>Sally glanced up at him with a little nod. “You take +hold with a good grip. Everybody allows that,” she observed. +“The trouble is you let things go afterwards. +You don’t stay with it.” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” assented Hawtrey. “I believe you have hit it, +Sally. That’s very much what’s the matter with me.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” said the girl with quiet insistence, “won’t you +try?” +</p> +<p>A faint flush crept into Hawtrey’s face. Sally was less +than half-taught, and unacquainted with anything beyond +the simple, strenuous life of the prairie. Her greatest +accomplishments consisted of some skill in bakery and +the handling of half-broken teams; but she had once or +twice given him what he recognized as excellent advice. +There was something incongruous in the situation, but, as +usual, he preferred to regard it whimsically. +</p> +<p>“I suppose I’ll have to, if you insist. If ever I’m the +grasping owner of the biggest farm in this district I’ll +blame you,” he answered. +</p> +<p>Sally said nothing further on that subject, and some +time later the sleigh went skimming down among the +birches in a shallow ravine. Hawtrey pulled the horses +up when they reached the bottom of the ravine, and +glanced up at a shapeless cluster of buildings that showed +black amid the trees. +</p> +<p>“Lorton won’t be back until to-morrow, but I promised +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +to pitch the bags into his granary,” he said. “If I +hump them up the trail here it will save us driving round +through the bluff.” +</p> +<p>He got down, and though the bags were heavy, with +Sally’s assistance he managed to hoist the first of them +on to his shoulders. Then he staggered with it up the +steep foot-trail that climbed the slope. He was more +or less accustomed to carrying bags of grain between +store and wagon, but his mittened hands were numbed, +and his joints were stiff with cold. Sally noticed that +he floundered rather wildly. In another moment or two, +however, he vanished into the gloom among the trees, +and she sat listening to the uneven crunch of his footsteps +in the snow, until there was a sudden crash of +broken branches, and a sound as of something falling +heavily down a declivity. Then there was another crash, +and stillness again. +</p> +<p>Sally gasped, and clenched her mittened hands hard +upon the reins as she remembered that Lorton’s by-trail +skirted the edge of a very steep bank, but she lost neither +her collectedness nor her nerve. Presence of mind in the +face of an emergency is probably as much a question of +experience as of temperament, and, like other women in +that country, she had seen men struck down by half-trained +horses, crushed by collapsing strawpiles, and once +or twice gashed by mower blades. This was no doubt why +she remembered that the impatient team would probably +move on if she left the sleigh, and therefore drove the +horses to the first of the birches before she got down. +Then she knotted the reins about a branch, and called out +sharply. +</p> +<p>No answer came out of the shadows, and her heart beat +unpleasantly fast as she plunged in among the trees, +keeping below the narrow trail that went slanting up the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +side of the declivity, until she stopped, with another gasp, +when she reached a spot where a ray of moonlight filtered +down. A limp figure in an old skin coat lay almost at +her feet, and she dropped on her knees beside it in the +snow. Hawtrey’s face showed an unpleasant grayish-white +in the faint silvery light. +</p> +<p>“Gregory,” she cried hoarsely. +</p> +<p>The man opened his eyes, and blinked at her in a half-dazed +manner. “Fell down,” he said. “Think I felt +my leg go—and my side’s stabbing me. Go for somebody.” +</p> +<p>Sally glanced round, and noticed that the grain bag +lay burst open not far away. She fancied that he had +clung to it after he lost his footing, which explained why +he had fallen so heavily, but that was not a point of any +consequence now. There was nobody who could help her +within two leagues of the spot, and it was evident that +she could not leave him there to freeze. Then she noticed +that the trees grew rather farther apart just there, and +rising swiftly she ran back to bring the team. The +ascent was steep, and she had to urge the horses, with +sharp cries and blows from her mittened hand, among +shadowy tree trunks and through snapping undergrowth +before she reached the spot where Hawtrey lay. He +looked up at her when at last the horses stood close beside +him. +</p> +<p>“You can’t turn them here,” he told her faintly. +</p> +<p>Sally was never sure how she managed it, for the +sleigh drove against the slender trunks, and the fiery +beasts, terrified by the snapping of the undergrowth, +were almost unmanageable; but at last they were facing +the descent again, and she stooped and twined her +arms about the shoulders of Hawtrey, who now lay almost +against the sleigh. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>“It’s going to hurt, Gregory, but I have got to get +you in,” she warned him. +</p> +<p>Then she gasped, for Hawtrey was a man of full +stature, and it was a heavy lift. She could not raise +him wholly, and he cried out once when his injured leg +trailed in the snow. Still, with the most strenuous effort +she had ever made she moved him a yard or so, and then +staggering fell with her side against the sleigh. She +felt faint with the pain of it, but with another desperate +lift she drew him into the sleigh, and let him sink down +gently upon the bag that still lay there. His eyes had +shut again, and he said nothing now. +</p> +<p>It required only another moment or two to wrap the +thick driving-robe about him, and after that, with one +hand still beneath his neck, she glanced down. It was +clear that he was quite unconscious of her presence, and +stooping swiftly she kissed his gray face. She settled +herself in the driving-seat with only a blanket coat to +shelter her from the cold, and the horses went cautiously +down the slope. She did not urge them until they reached +the level, for the trail that wound up out of the ravine +was difficult, but when the wide white expanse once more +stretched away before them she laid the biting whip +across their backs. +</p> +<p>That was quite sufficient. They were fiery animals, +and when they broke into a furious gallop the rush of +night wind struck her tingling cheeks like a lash of +wires. All power of feeling went out of her hands, her +arms grew stiff and heavy, and she was glad that the +trail led smooth and straight to the horizon. Hawtrey, +who had moved a little, lay helpless across her feet. He +did not answer when she spoke to him. +</p> +<p>The team went far at the gallop. A fine mist of snow +beat against the sleigh, but the girl leaning forward, a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +tense figure, with nerveless hands clenched upon the reins, +saw nothing but the blue-gray riband of trail that steadily +unrolled itself before her. At length a blurred mass, +which she knew to be a birch bluff, grew out of the white +waste, and presently a cluster of darker smudges shot +up into the shape of a log-house, sod stables, and straw-pile +granary. A minute or two later, she pulled the team +up with an effort, and a man, who flung the door of the +house open, came out into the moonlight. He stopped, +and gazed at her in astonishment. +</p> +<p>“Miss Creighton!” he said. +</p> +<p>“Don’t stand there,” cried Sally. “Take the near +horse’s head, and lead them right up to the door.” +</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” the man asked stupidly. +</p> +<p>“Lead the team up,” ordered Sally. “Jump, if you +can.” +</p> +<p>It was supposed that Sproatly had never moved with +much expedition in his life, but that night he sprang +towards the horses at a commanding wave of the girl’s +hand. He started when he saw his comrade lying in the +bottom of the sleigh, but Sally disregarded his hurried +questions. +</p> +<p>“Help me to get him out,” she said, when he stopped +the team. “Keep his right leg as straight as you can. I +don’t want to lift him. We must slide him in.” +</p> +<p>They did it somehow, though the girl was breathless +before their task was finished, and the perspiration started +from the man. Then Sally turned to Sproatly. +</p> +<p>“Get into the sleigh, and don’t spare the team,” she +said. “Drive over to Watson’s, and bring him along. +You can tell him your partner’s broke his leg, and some +of his ribs. Start right now!” +</p> +<p>Sproatly did her bidding, and when the door closed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +behind him she flung off her blanket coat and thrust +plenty of wood into the stove. She looked for some coffee +in the cupboard, and put on a kettle, after which she sat +down on the floor by Hawtrey’s side. He lay still, with +the thick driving-robe beneath him, and though the color +was creeping back into his face, his eyes were shut, and +he was apparently quite unconscious of her presence. For +the first time she was aware of a distressful faintness, +which, as she had come suddenly out of the stinging frost +into the little overheated room that reeked with tobacco +smoke and a stale smell of cooking, was not astonishing. +She mastered her dizziness, however, and presently, seeing +that Hawtrey did not move, glanced about her with +some curiosity, for it was the first time she had entered +his house. +</p> +<p>The room was scantily furnished, and, though very +few of the bachelor farmers in that country live luxuriously, +she fancied that Sproatly, who had evidently +very rudimentary ideas on the subject of house-cleaning, +had not brought back all the sundries he had thrown out +into the snow. It contained a table, a carpenter’s bench, +and a couple of chairs. There were still smears of dust +upon the uncovered floor. The birch-log walls had been +rudely paneled half-way up, but the half-seasoned boards +had cracked with the heat, and exuded streaks of resin +to which the grime and dust had clung. A pail, which +contained potato peelings, stood amid a litter of old long-boots +and broken harness against one wall. The floor +was black and thick with grease all round the rusty stove. +A pile of unwashed dishes and cooking utensils stood +upon the table, and the lamp above her head had blackened +the boarded ceiling. +</p> +<p>Sally noticed it all with disgust, and then, seeing that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +Hawtrey had opened his eyes, she made a cup of coffee +and persuaded him to drink it. After that he smiled at +her. +</p> +<p>“Thanks,” he said feebly. “Where’s Sproatly? My +side stabs me.” +</p> +<p>Sally raised one hand. “You’re not to say a word,” +she cautioned. “Sproatly’s gone for Watson, and he’ll +soon fix you up. Now lie quite still, and shut your eyes +again.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey obeyed her injunction to lie still, but his eyes +were not more than half-closed, and she could not resist the +temptation to see what he would do if she went away. +She had half risen, when he stretched out a hand and felt +for her dress, and she sank down again with a curious +softness in her face. Then he let his eyes close altogether, +as if satisfied, and by and by she gently laid her hand +on his. +</p> +<p>He did not appear to notice it, and, though she did +not know whether he was asleep or unconscious, she sat +beside him, watching him with compassion in her eyes. +There was no sound but the snapping of the birch billets +in the rusty stove. She was anxious, but not unduly so, +for she knew that men who live as the prairie farmers do +usually more or less readily recover from such injuries as +had befallen him. It would not be very long before assistance +arrived, for it was understood that the man for +whom she had sent Sproatly had almost completed a medical +course in an Eastern city before he became a prairie +farmer. Why he had suddenly changed his profession +was a point he did not explain, and, as he had always +shown himself willing to do what he could when any of +his neighbors met with an accident, nobody troubled him +about the matter. +</p> +<p>By and by Sproatly brought Watson to the homestead, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +and he was busy with Hawtrey for some time. Then they +got him to bed, and Watson came back to the room where +Sally was anxiously waiting. +</p> +<p>“Hawtrey’s idea about his injuries is more or less +correct, but we’ll have no great trouble in pulling him +round,” he said. “The one point that’s worrying me is +the looking after him. One couldn’t expect him to thrive +upon slabs of burnt salt pork, and Sproatly’s bread.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll do what I can,” said Sproatly indignantly. +</p> +<p>“You!” replied Watson. “It would be criminal to +leave you in charge of a sick man.” +</p> +<p>Sally quietly put on her blanket coat. “If you can +stay a few hours, I’ll be back soon after it’s light,” she +said. She turned to Sproatly. “You can wash up those +dishes on the table, and get a brush and sweep this room +out. If it’s not quite neat to-morrow you’ll do it again.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly grinned as she went out. A few moments +later the girl drove away through the bitter frost. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_WYLLARD_ASSENTS' id='III_WYLLARD_ASSENTS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>WYLLARD ASSENTS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sally, who returned with her mother, passed a fortnight +at Hawtrey’s homestead before Watson decided that his +patient could be entrusted to Sproatly’s care. Afterwards +she went back twice a week to make sure that Sproatly, +in whom she had no confidence, was discharging his +duties satisfactorily. With baskets of dainties for the invalid +she had driven over one afternoon, when Hawtrey, +whose bones were knitting well, lay talking to another +man in his little sleeping-room. +</p> +<p>There was no furniture in the room except the wooden +bunk in which he lay, and a deerhide lounge chair he had +made. The stove-pipe from the kitchen led across part of +one corner, and then up again into the room beneath the +roof above. It had been one of Sproatly’s duties since +the accident to rise and renew the fire soon after midnight, +and when Sally arrived he was outside the house, whip-sawing +birch-logs and splitting them, an occupation he +profoundly disliked. +</p> +<p>Spring had come suddenly, as it usually does on the +prairie, and the snow was melting fast under a brilliant +sun. The bright rays that streamed in through the window +struck athwart the glimmering dust motes in the +little bare room, and fell, pleasantly warm, upon the man +who sat in the deerhide chair. He was a year or two +older than Hawtrey, though he had scarcely reached +thirty. He was a man of average height, and somewhat +spare of figure. His manner was tranquil and his lean, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +bronzed face attractive. He held a pipe in his hand, and +was looking at Hawtrey with quiet, contemplative eyes, +that were his most noticeable feature, though it was difficult +to say whether their color was gray or hazel-brown, +for they were singularly clear, and there was something +which suggested steadfastness in their unwavering gaze. +The man wore long boots, trousers of old blue duck, and +a jacket of soft deerskin such as the Blackfeet dress so +expertly; and there was nothing about him to suggest +that he was a man of varied experience, and of some importance +in that country. +</p> +<p>Harry Wyllard was native-born. In his young days +he had assisted his father in the working of a little +Manitoban farm, when the great grain province was still, +for the most part, a wilderness. A prosperous relative on +the Pacific slope had sent him to Toronto University, +where after a session or two he had become involved in a +difference of opinion with the authorities. Though the +matter was never made quite clear, it was generally believed +that Wyllard had quietly borne the blame of a +comrade’s action, for there was a vein of eccentric generosity +in the lad. In any case, he left Toronto, and the +relative, who was largely interested in the fur business, +next sent him north to the Behring Sea. The business +was then a hazardous one, for the skin buyers and pelagic +sealers had trouble with the Alaskan representatives of +American trading companies, upon whose preserves they +poached, as well as with the commanders of the gunboats +sent up north to protect the seals. +</p> +<p>Men’s lives were staked against the value of a fur, +edicts were lightly contravened, and now and then a +schooner barely escaped into the smothering fog with +skins looted on forbidden beaches. It was a perilous life, +and a strenuous one, for every white man’s hand was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +against the traders; there were rangers in fog and gale, +and the reefs that lay in the tideways of almost uncharted +waters; but Wyllard made the most of his chance. +He kept the peace with jealous skippers who resented the +presence of a man they might command as mate, but +whose views they were forced to listen to when he spoke +as supercargo. He won the good-will of sea-bred Indians, +and drove a good trade with them; he not infrequently +brought his boat loaded with reeking skins back +first to the plunging schooner. +</p> +<p>He fell into trouble again when they were hanging off +the Eastern Isles under double reefs, watching for the +Russians’ seals. A boat’s crew from another schooner +had been cast ashore, and, as the men were in peril of +falling into the Russians’ hands, Wyllard led a reckless +expedition to rescue them. He succeeded, in so far that +the wrecked sailors were taken off the beach through a +tumult of breaking surf; but as the relief crews pulled +seaward the fog shut down on them, and one boat, manned +by three men, never reached the schooners. The vessels +blew horns all night, and crept along the smoking beach +next day, though the surf made landing impossible. Then +a sudden gale drove them off the shore, and, as it was +evident that their comrades must have perished, they +reluctantly sailed for other fishing grounds. As one result +of this, Wyllard broke with his prosperous relative +when he went back to Vancouver. +</p> +<p>After that he helped to strengthen railroad bridges +among the mountains of British Columbia. He worked +in logging camps, and shoveled in the mines, and, as it +happened, met Hawtrey, who, tempted by high wages, +had spent a winter in the Mountain Province. Wyllard’s +father, who had taken up virgin soil in Assiniboia, died +soon after Wyllard went back to him, and a few months +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +later the relative in Vancouver also died. Somewhat +to Wyllard’s astonishment, his kinsman bequeathed him +a considerable property, most of the proceeds of which +he sank in acres of virgin prairie. Willow Range was +now one of the largest farms between Winnipeg and the +Rockies. +</p> +<p>“The leg’s getting along satisfactorily?” Wyllard inquired +at length. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey, who appeared unusually thoughtful, admitted +that it was. +</p> +<p>“Anyway, it’s singularly unfortunate that I’m disabled +just now,” he added. “There’s the plowing to begin +in a week or two, and besides that I was thinking +of getting married.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard was somewhat astonished at this announcement. +For one thing, he was more or less acquainted +with the state of his friend’s finances. During the next +moment or two he glanced meditatively through the +open door into the adjoining room, where Sally Creighton +was busy beside the stove. The sleeves of the girl’s +light bodice were rolled up well above the elbow, and she +had pretty, round arms, which were just then partly immersed +in dough. +</p> +<p>“I don’t think there’s a nicer or more capable girl +in this part of Assiniboia,” he remarked. +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” agreed Hawtrey. “Anybody would admit +that. Still, since you seem so sure of it, why don’t you +marry her yourself?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard looked at his comrade curiously. “Well,” +he said, “there are several reasons that don’t affect Miss +Sally and only concern myself. Besides, it’s highly improbable +that she’d have me.” Before he looked up again +he paused to light his pipe, which had gone out. “Since +it evidently isn’t Sally, have I met the lady?” he asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>“You haven’t. She’s in England.” +</p> +<p>“It’s four years, isn’t it, since you were over there?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey lay silent a minute, and then made a little +confidential gesture. +</p> +<p>“I’d better tell you all about the thing,” he said. “Our +folks were people of some little standing in the county. +In fact, as they were far from rich, they had just standing +enough to embarrass them. In most respects, they +were ultra-conventional with old-fashioned ideas, and, +though there was no open break, I’m afraid I didn’t get +on with them quite as well as I should have done, which +is why I came out to Canada. They started me on the +land decently, and twice when we’d harvested frost and +horse-sickness, they sent along the draft I asked them +for. That is one reason why I’m not going to worry them, +though I’d very much like another now. You see, there +are two girls, as well as Reggie, who’s reading for the +Bar.” +</p> +<p>“I don’t think you have mentioned the lady yet.” +</p> +<p>“She’s a connection of some friends of ours. Her +mother, so far as I understand it, married beneath her—a +man her family didn’t like. The father and mother +died, and Agatha, who was brought up by the father’s +relations, was often at the Grange, a little, old-fashioned, +half-ruinous place, a mile or two from where we live +in the North of England. The Grange belongs to her +mother’s folks, but I think there was still a feud between +them and her father’s people, who had her trained to +earn her living. We saw a good deal of each other, and +fell in love, as boy and girl will. Well, when I went +back, one winter, after I’d been here two years, Agatha +was at the Grange again, and we decided then that I +was to bring her out as soon as I had a home to offer +her.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>Hawtrey broke off for a moment, and there was a +trace of embarrassment in his manner when he went +on again. “Perhaps I ought to have managed it +sooner,” he added. “Still, things never seem to go quite +as one would like with me, and you can understand that +a dainty, delicate girl reared in comfort in England would +find it rough out here.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard glanced round the bare room in which he sat, +and into the other, which was also furnished in a remarkably +primitive manner. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he assented, “I can quite realize that.” +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Hawtrey, “it’s a thing that has been +worrying me a good deal of late, because, as a matter +of fact, I’m not much farther forward than I was +four years ago. In the meanwhile, Agatha, who has some +talent for music, was in a first-class master’s hands. Afterwards +she gave lessons, and got odd singing engagements. +A week ago, I had a letter from her in which she +said that her throat was giving out.” +</p> +<p>He stopped again for a moment, with trouble in his +face, and then fumbling under his pillow produced a letter, +which he carefully folded. +</p> +<p>“We’re rather good friends,” he observed. “You can +read that part of it.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard took the letter, and a suggestion of quickening +interest crept into his eyes as he read. Then he looked up +at Hawtrey. +</p> +<p>“It’s a brave letter—the kind a brave girl would write,” +he commented. “Still, it’s evident that she’s anxious.” +</p> +<p>For a moment or two there was silence, which was +broken only by Sally clattering about the stove. +</p> +<p>Dissimilar in character, as they were, the two men were +firm friends, and there had been a day when, as they +worked upon a dizzy railroad trestle, Hawtrey had held +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +Wyllard fast when a plank slipped away. He had thought +nothing of the matter, but Wyllard was one who remembered +things of that kind. +</p> +<p>“Now,” said Hawtrey, after a long pause, “you see +my trouble. This place isn’t fit for her, and I couldn’t +even go across for some time yet. But her father’s folks +have died off, and there’s nothing to be expected from her +mother’s relatives. Any way, she can’t be left to face +the blow alone. It’s unthinkable. Well, there’s only one +course open to me, and that’s to raise as much money on +a mortgage as I can, fit the place out with fixings brought +from Winnipeg, and sow a double acreage with borrowed +capital. I’ll send for her as soon as I can get the house +made a little more comfortable.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard sat silent a moment or two, and then leaned +forward in his chair. +</p> +<p>“No,” he objected, “there are two other and wiser +courses. Tell the girl what things are like here, and just +how you stand. She’d face it bravely. There’s no doubt +of that.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey looked at him sharply. “I believe she would, +but considering that you have never seen her, I don’t quite +know why you should be sure of it.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “The girl who wrote that letter +wouldn’t flinch.” +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Hawtrey, “you can mention the second +course.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll let you have $1,000 at bank interest—which is +less than any land-broker would charge you—without a +mortgage.” +</p> +<p>Again Hawtrey showed a certain embarrassment. “No,” +he replied, “I’m afraid it can’t be done. I had a kind +of claim upon my people, though it must be admitted +that I’ve worked it off, but I can’t quite bring myself +to borrow money from my friends.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>Wyllard who saw that he meant it, made a gesture of +resignation. “Then you must let the girl make the most +of it, but keep out of the hands of the mortgage man. +By the way, I haven’t told you that I’ve decided to make +a trip to the Old Country. We had a bonanza crop last +season, and Martial could run the range for a month or +two. After all, my father was born yonder, and I can’t +help feeling now and then that I should have made an +effort to trace up that young Englishman’s relatives, and +tell them what became of him.” +</p> +<p>“The one you struck in British Columbia? You have +mentioned him, but, so far as I remember, you never +gave me any particulars about the thing.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard seemed to hesitate, which was not a habit of +his. +</p> +<p>“There is,” he said, “not much to tell. I struck the +lad sitting down, played out, upon a trail that led over +a big divide. It was clear that he couldn’t get any further, +and there wasn’t a settlement within a good many leagues +of the spot. We were up in the ranges prospecting then. +Well, we made camp and gave him supper—he couldn’t +eat very much—and afterwards he told me what brought +him there. It seemed to me he had always been weedy +in the chest, but he had been working waist-deep in an +icy creek, building a dam at a mine, until his lungs had +given out. The mining boss was a hard case and had no +mercy on him, but the lad, who had had a rough time in +the Mountain Province, stayed with it until he played out +altogether.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s face hardened as he mentioned the mining +boss, and a curious little sparkle crept into his eyes, but +after a pause he proceeded quietly: +</p> +<p>“We did what we could for the boy. In fact, it rather +broke up the prospecting trip, but he was too far gone. +He hung for a week or two, and one of us brought a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +doctor out from the settlements, but the day before we +broke camp Jake and I buried him.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey made a sign of comprehension. He was reasonably +well acquainted with his comrade’s character, and +fancied he knew who had brought the doctor out. He +knew also that Wyllard had been earning his living as a +railroad navvy or chopper then, and, in view of the cost +of provisions brought by pack-horse into the remoter bush, +the reason why he had abandoned his prospecting trip +after spending a week or two taking care of the sick lad +was clear enough. +</p> +<p>“You never learned his name?” Hawtrey asked. +</p> +<p>“I didn’t,” answered Wyllard. “I went back to the +mine, but several things suggested that the name upon +the pay-roll wasn’t his real one. He began a broken message +the night he died, but the hemorrhage cut him off +in the middle of it. The wish that I should tell his +people somehow was in his eyes.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard broke off for a moment with the deprecatory +gesture, which in connection with the story was very +expressive. +</p> +<p>“I have never done it, but how could I? All I know +is that he was a delicately brought up young Englishman, +and the only clew I have is a watch with a London maker’s +name on it and a girl’s photograph. I’ve a very curious +notion that I shall meet that girl some day.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey, who made no comment, lay still for a minute +or two, but his face suggested that he was considering +something. +</p> +<p>“Harry,” he said presently, “I shall not be fit for a +journey for quite a while yet, and if I went over to England +I couldn’t get the plowing done and the crop in; +which, if I’m going to be married, is absolutely necessary.” +</p> +<p>There was no doubt about the truth of the statement, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +for the small Western farmer has very seldom a balance +in hand, and for that matter, is not infrequently in debt +to the nearest storekeeper. He must, as a rule, secure a +harvest or abandon his holding, since as soon as the crop +is thrashed the bills pour in. Wyllard made a sign of +assent. +</p> +<p>“Well,” Hawtrey went on, “if you’re going to England +you could go as my deputy. You could make Agatha +understand what things are like here, and bring her out +to me. I’ll arrange for the wedding to be soon as she +arrives.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard was not a conventional person, but he pointed +out several objections. Hawtrey overruled them, however, +and eventually Wyllard reluctantly assented. +</p> +<p>“As it happens, Mrs. Hastings is going over, too, and +if she comes back about the same time the thing might +be managed,” he said. “I believe she’s in Winnipeg just +now, but I’ll write to her. By the way, have you a photograph +of Agatha?” +</p> +<p>“I haven’t,” Hawtrey answered. “She gave me one, +but somehow it got mislaid on house-cleaning. That’s +rather an admission, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p>It occurred to Wyllard that it certainly was. In fact, +it struck him as a very curious thing that Hawtrey should +have lost the picture which the girl with whom he was +in love had given him. He sat silent for a moment or +two, and then stood up. +</p> +<p>“When I hear from Mrs. Hastings, I’ll drive around +again. Candidly, the thing has somewhat astonished me. +I always had a fancy it would be Sally.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed. “Sally?” he replied. “We’re first-rate +friends, but I never had the faintest notion of marrying +her.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard went out to harness his team, and he did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +notice that Sally, who had approached the door with a +tray in her hands a moment or two earlier, drew back +before him softly. When he had crossed the room she +set down the tray and, with her cheeks burning, leaned +upon the table. Then, feeling that she could not stay +in the stove-heated room, she went out, and stood in the +slushy snow. One of her hands was tightly closed, and +all the color had vanished from her cheeks. However, +she contrived to give Hawtrey his supper by and by, and +soon afterwards drove away. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_A_CRISIS' id='IV_A_CRISIS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>A CRISIS</h3> +</div> + +<p>While Wyllard made arrangements for his journey, and +Sally Creighton went very quietly about her work on the +lonely prairie farm, it happened one evening that Miss +Winifred Rawlinson sat uneasily expectant far back under +the gallery of a concert-hall in an English manufacturing +town. In her back seat Miss Rawlinson could not hear +very well, but it was the cheapest place she could obtain, +and economy was of some little importance to her. Besides, +by craning her neck a little to avoid the hat of the +strikingly dressed young woman in front of her, she could, +at least, see the stage. The programme which she held +in one hand announced that Miss Agatha Ismay would +sing a certain aria from a great composer’s oratorio. Miss +Rawlinson leaned further forward in her chair when a +girl of about her own age, which was twenty-four, slowly +advanced to the center of the stage. +</p> +<p>The girl on the stage was a tall, well-made, brown-haired +girl, with a quiet grace of movement and a comely +face. She was attired in a long trailing dress of a shimmering +corn-straw tint. Agatha Ismay had sung at unimportant +concerts with marked success, but that evening +there was something very like shrinking in her eyes. +</p> +<p>A crash of chords from the piano melted into a rippling +prelude, and Winifred breathed easier when her friend began +to sing. The voice was sweet and excellently trained, +and there was a deep stillness of appreciation when the +clear notes thrilled through the closely-packed hall. No +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +one could doubt that the first part of the aria was a success, +for half-subdued applause broke out when the voice +sank into silence, and for a few moments the piano rippled +on alone; but it seemed to Winifred that there was +a look of tension in the singer’s face, and she grew uneasy, +for she understood the cause for it. +</p> +<p>“The last bit of the second part’s rather trying,” remarked +a young man behind her. “There’s an awkward +jump at two full tones that was too much for our soprano +when we tried it at the choral union. Miss Ismay’s voice +is very true in intonation, but I don’t suppose most of +the audience would notice it if she shirked a little and left +that high sharp out.” +</p> +<p>Winifred had little knowledge of music, but she was +sufficiently acquainted with her friend’s character to be +certain that Agatha would not attempt to leave out the +sharp in question. This was one reason why she sat rigidly +still when the clear voice rang out again. It rose from +note to note, full and even, but she could see the singer’s +face, and there was no doubt whatever that Agatha was +making a strenuous effort. Nobody else, however, seemed +to notice it, for Winifred flung a swift glance around, and +then fixed her eyes upon the dominant figure in the corn-straw +dress. The sweet voice was still rising and the interested +listener hoped that the accompanist would force +the tone to cover it a little, and put on the loud pedal. +The pianist, however, was gazing at his music, and played +on until, with startling suddenness, the climax came. +</p> +<p>The voice sank a full tone, rose, and hoarsely trailed off +into silence again. Then the accompanist glanced over +his shoulder, and struck a ringing chord while he waited +for a sign. There was a curious stirring in the audience. +The girl in the shimmering dress stood quite still for a +moment with a spot of crimson in her cheek and a half-dazed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +look in her eyes. Then, turning swiftly, she moved +off the stage. +</p> +<p>Winifred rose with a gasp, and turned upon the young +man next her, who looked up inquiringly. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said sharply; “can’t you let me pass? I’m +going out.” +</p> +<p>It was about half-past nine when she reached the wet +street. A fine rain drove into her face, and she had rather +more than a mile to walk without an escort, but that was +a matter which caused her no concern. She was a self-reliant +young woman, and accustomed to going about +unattended. She was quite aware that the scene she had +just witnessed would bring about a crisis in her own and +her friend’s affairs. For all that, she was unpleasantly +conscious of the leak in one shabby boot when she stepped +down from the sidewalk to cross the street, and when +she opened her umbrella beneath a gas lamp she pursed +up her mouth. There were holes in the umbrella near +where the ribs ran into the ferrule; she had not noticed +them before. She, however, resolutely plodded on through +the drizzle, until three young fellows who came with +linked arms down the pavement of a quieter street barred +her way. One wore his hat on one side, the one nearest +the curb flourished a little cane, and the third smiled +at her fatuously. +</p> +<p>“Oh my!” he jeered. “Where’s dear Jemima off to +in such a hurry?” +</p> +<p>Winifred drew herself up. She was little and determined, +and, it must be admitted, not quite unaccustomed +to that kind of thing. +</p> +<p>“Will you let me pass?” she asked angrily. “There’s +a policeman at the next turning.” +</p> +<p>“There really is,” said one of the youths. “The Dook +has another engagement. Dream of me, Olivia!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></p> +<p>A beat of heavy feet drew nearer, and the three roysterers +disappeared in the direction of a flaming music-hall, +where the second “house” was probably beginning. +Winifred, who had stepped into the gutter to avoid the +roysterer with the cane, turned as a stalwart, blue-coated +figure moved towards her. +</p> +<p>“Thank you, officer,” she said, “they’ve gone.” +</p> +<p>The policeman merely raised a hand as if in comprehension, +and plodded back to his post. Winifred went +on until she let herself into a house in a quiet street, and +ascending to the second floor entered a simply furnished +room, which, however, contained a piano, and a table on +which a typewriter stood amid a litter of papers. The +girl took off her water-proof and sat down in a low chair +beside the little fire. She was not a handsome girl, and +it was evident that she did not trouble herself greatly +about her attire. Her face was too thin and her figure +too slight and spare, but there was usually, even when she +was anxious, as she certainly was that night, a shrewdly +whimsical twinkle in her eyes, and though her lips were +set, her expression was compassionate. +</p> +<p>She was not the person to sit still very long, and in a +minute or two she rose to place a little kettle on the fire. +She took a few scones, a coffee-pot, and a tin of condensed +milk from a cupboard. When she had spread +them out upon a table she discovered that there was some +of the condensed milk upon her fingers, and it must be +admitted that she sucked them. They were little, stubby +fingers, which somehow looked capable. +</p> +<p>“It must have been four o’clock when I had that bun +and a cup of tea,” she remarked, half aloud. +</p> +<p>She glanced at the table longingly, for she occasionally +found it necessary to place a certain check upon a +healthy appetite. The practice of such self-denial is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +unfortunately, not a very unusual thing in the case +of many young women who work hard in the great +cities. +</p> +<p>“I must wait for Agatha,” she said, with a resolute +shake of the head. Crossing the room toward the typewriter +table she stopped to glance at a little framed photograph +that stood upon the mantel. It was a portrait of +Gregory Hawtrey taken years before, and she apostrophized +it with quiet scorn. +</p> +<p>“Now you’re wanted you’re naturally away out yonder,” +she declared accusingly. “You’re like the rest of +them—despicable!” +</p> +<p>This seemed to relieve her feelings, and she sat down +before the typewriter, which clicked and rattled for several +minutes under her stubby fingers. The clicking +ceased with sudden abruptness, and she prodded the carriage +of the machine viciously with a hairpin. As this +appeared unavailing, she used her forefinger, and when +at length it slid along the rod with a clash there was +a smear of grimy oil upon her cheek and her nose. The +machine gave no further trouble, and she endeavored +to make up some of the time that she had spent at the +concert. It was necessary that it should be made up, but +she was conscious that she was putting off an evil moment. +</p> +<p>At last the door opened, and Agatha Ismay, wrapped +in a long cloak, came in. She permitted Winifred to +take her wrap from her, and then sank down into a chair. +There was a strained look in her eyes, and her face was +very weary. +</p> +<p>“You’re working late again,” she observed. +</p> +<p>Winifred nodded. “It’s the men who loaf, my dear,” +she replied. “When you undertake the transcription of +an author’s scrawl at ninepence the thousand words you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +have to work hard, especially when, as it is in this case, +the thing’s practically unreadable. Besides, the woman in +it makes me lose my temper. If I’d had a man of the kind +described to deal with I’d have thrashed him.” +</p> +<p>She was talking at random, partly to conceal her +anxiety, and partly with the charitable purpose of giving +her companion time to approach the subject that must +be mentioned; but she rather overdid her effort to appear +at ease. Agatha looked at her sharply. +</p> +<p>“Winny,” she said, “you know. You’ve been there.” +</p> +<p>Winifred turned towards her quietly, for she could face +a crisis. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she confessed, “I have, but you’re not going +to talk about it until you have had supper. Don’t move +until I make the coffee.” +</p> +<p>She was genuinely hungry, but while she satisfied her +own appetite she took care that her companion, who did +not seem inclined to eat, made a simple meal. Then she +put the plates into a cupboard and sat down facing +Agatha. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she said, “you have broken down exactly as +that throat specialist said you would. The first question +is, how long it will be before you can go on again?” +</p> +<p>Agatha laughed, a little harsh laugh. “I didn’t tell +you everything at the time: I’ve broken down for good,” +she answered. +</p> +<p>There was a moment of tense silence, and then Agatha +made a dejected gesture. “The specialist warned me that +this might happen if I went on singing, but what could +I do? I couldn’t cancel my engagements without telling +people why. The physician said I must go to Norway and +give my throat and chest a rest.” +</p> +<p>They looked at each other, and there was in their eyes +the half-bitter, half-weary smile of those to whom the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +cure prescribed is ludicrously impossible. It was Winifred +who spoke first. +</p> +<p>“Then,” she commented, “we have to face the situation, +and it’s not an encouraging one. Our joint earnings +just keep us here in decency—we won’t say comfort—and +they’re evidently to be subject to a big reduction. +It strikes me as a rather curious coincidence that a letter +from that man in Canada and one from your prosperous +friends in the country arrived just before you went out.” +</p> +<p>She saw the look in Agatha’s eyes, and spread her hands +out. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she admitted; “I hid them. It seemed to +me that you had quite enough upon your mind this evening. +I don’t know whether the letters are likely to throw +any fresh light upon the question what we’re going to +do.” +</p> +<p>She produced the letters from a drawer in her table, +and Agatha straightened herself suddenly in her chair +when she had opened the first of them. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she cried, “he wants me to go out to him!” +</p> +<p>Winifred’s face set hard for a moment, but it relaxed +again, and she contrived to hide her dismay. +</p> +<p>“Then,” she suggested, “I suppose you’ll certainly +go. After all, he’s probably not worse to live with than +most of them.” +</p> +<p>Miss Rawlinson was occasionally a little bitter, but, +like others of her kind, she had been compelled to compete +in an overcrowded market with hard-driven men. She +was, however, sincerely attached to her friend, and she +smiled when she saw the flash in Agatha’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she added, “you needn’t try to wither me with +your indignation. No doubt he’s precisely what he ought +to be, and I dare say it will ease your feelings if you +talk about him again; at least it will help you to formulate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +your reasons for going out to him. I’ll listen patiently, +and try not to be uncharitable.” +</p> +<p>Agatha fell in with the suggestion. It was a relief to +talk, and she had a certain respect, which she would not +always admit, for her friend’s shrewdness. She meant to +go, but she desired to ascertain how a less interested person +would regard the course that she had decided on. +</p> +<p>“I have known Gregory since I was a girl,” she said. +</p> +<p>Winifred pursed up her lips. “I understood you met +him at the Grange, and you were only there for a few +weeks once a year,” she replied. “After all, that isn’t a +very great deal. It seems he fell in love with you, which +is, perhaps, comprehensible. What I don’t quite know +the reason for is why you fell in love with him.” +</p> +<p>“Ah,” responded Agatha, “you have never seen Gregory.” +</p> +<p>“I haven’t,” admitted Winifred sourly; “I have, however, +seen his picture. One must admit that he’s reasonably +good-looking. In fact, I’ve seen quite an assortment +of photographs, but it’s, perhaps, significant that +the last was taken some years ago.” +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled. “Can a photograph show the clean, +sanguine temperament of a man, his impulsive generosity, +and cheerful optimism?” +</p> +<p>Miss Rawlinson rose, and critically surveyed the photograph +on the mantel. +</p> +<p>“I don’t want to be discouraging, but after studying +that one I’m compelled to admit that it can’t. No doubt +it’s the artist’s fault, but I’m willing to admit that a +young girl would be rather apt to credit a man with a +face like that with qualities he didn’t possess.” She sat +down again with a thoughtful expression. “The fact is, +you set him up on a pedestal and burned incense to him +when you were not old enough to know any better, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +when he came home for a few weeks four years ago you +promised to marry him. Now it seems he’s ready at last, +and wants you to go out to the new country. Perhaps it +doesn’t affect the question, but if I’d promised to marry +a man in Canada he’d certainly have to come for me. Isn’t +there a certain risk in the thing?” +</p> +<p>“A risk?” +</p> +<p>Winifred nodded. “Yes,” she said, “rather a serious +one. Four years is a long time, and the man may have +changed. In a new country where life is so different, +it must be a thing they’re rather apt to do.” +</p> +<p>A faint, half-compassionate, half-tolerant smile crept +into Agatha’s eyes. The mere idea that the sunny-tempered, +brilliant young man to whom she had given her +heart could have changed or degenerated in any way +seemed absurd to her. Winifred, however, went on again. +</p> +<p>“There’s another point,” she said. “If he’s still the +same, which isn’t likely, there has certainly been a change +in you. You have learned to see things more clearly, and +have acquired a different standard from the one you had +then. One can’t help growing, and as one grows one +looks for more. One is no longer pleased with the same +things; it’s inevitable.” +</p> +<p>She broke off for a moment, and her voice became +gentler. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she added, “I’ve done my duty in trying to +point this out to you, and now there’s only another thing +to say: since you’re clearly bent on going, I’m going with +you.” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked astonished, but there was a suggestion +of relief in her expression, for the two had been firm +friends and had faced a good deal together. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she exclaimed, “that gets over the one difficulty!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>Winifred made a little whimsical gesture. +</p> +<p>“I’m not quite sure that it does. The difficulty will +probably be when I arrive in Canada, but I’m a rather +capable person, and I believe they don’t pay ninepence +a thousand words in Winnipeg. Besides, I could keep +the books at a store or a hotel, and at the very worst Gregory +could, perhaps, find a husband for me. Women, I +hear, are held in some estimation in that country. Perhaps +there’s a man out there who would treat decently +even a little, plain, vixenish-tempered person with a +turned-up nose.” +</p> +<p>Crossing the room again she banged the cover down +on the typewriter, and then turned to Agatha with a +suggestion of haziness in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Anyway, I’m very tired of this country. It would +be intolerable when you went away.” +</p> +<p>Agatha stretched out a hand and drew the girl down +beside her. She no longer feared adverse fortune and +loneliness, and she was filled with a gentle compassion, for +she knew how hard a fight Winifred had made, and part +at least of what she had borne. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” she said, “we will go together.” +</p> +<p>Then she opened the second letter, which she had forgotten +while they talked. +</p> +<p>“They want me to stay at the Grange for a few weeks,” +she announced, and smiled. “An hour ago I felt crushed +and beaten—and now, though my voice has probably gone +for good, I don’t seem to mind. Isn’t it curious that both +these letters should have come to sweep my troubles away +to-night?” +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Winifred, “it’s distinctly natural—just +what one would have expected. You wrote to the man +in Canada soon after you’d seen the specialist, and his +answer was bound to arrive in the next few days.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>“But I certainly didn’t write the folks at the Grange.” +</p> +<p>Winifred’s eyes twinkled. “As it happens, I did, two +days ago. I ventured to point out their duty to them, +and they were rather nice about it in another letter.” +</p> +<p>With a little sigh of contentment Agatha stretched herself +out in the low chair. “Well,” she said, “it probably +wouldn’t have the least effect if I scolded you. I +believe I’m horribly worn out, Winny, and it will be a +relief unspeakable to get away. If I can arrange to give +up those pupils I’ll go to-morrow.” +</p> +<p>Winifred made no answer. Kneeling with one elbow +resting on the arm of Agatha’s chair, she gazed straight in +front of her. Both of the girls were very weary of the +long, grim struggle, and now a change was close at hand. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_THE_OLD_COUNTRY' id='V_THE_OLD_COUNTRY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>THE OLD COUNTRY</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was a still, clear evening of spring when Wyllard, unstrapping +the rücksack from his shoulders, sat down beside +a frothing stream in a dale of Northern England. +On his arrival in London a week or two earlier he had +found awaiting him a letter from Mrs. Hastings, who +was then in Paris, in which she said that she could not at +the moment say when she would go home again, but that +she expected to advise him shortly. +</p> +<p>After answering the letter Wyllard started North, and, +obtaining Agatha’s address from Miss Rawlinson, went +on again to a certain little town, which, encircled by towering +fells, stands beside a lake in the North Country. +He had already recognized that his mission was rather a +delicate one, and he decided that it would be advisable +to wait until he heard from Mrs. Hastings before calling +upon Miss Ismay. There remained the question, what to +do with the next few days. A conversation with several +pedestrian tourists whom he met at his hotel, and a glance +at a map of the hill-tracks decided him. Remembering +that he had on several occasions kept the trail in Canada +for close on forty miles, he bought a Swiss pattern rücksack, +and set out on foot through the fells. +</p> +<p>Incidentally, he saw scenery that gave him a new conception +of the Old Country. He astonished his new friends, +the tourists, who volunteered to show him the way over +what they considered a difficult pass. To their great astonishment +the brown-faced stranger, who wore ordinary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +tight-fitting American attire and rather pointed American +shoes, went up the mountainside apparently without +an effort, and for the credit of the clubs to which they belonged +it was incumbent on them to keep pace with him. +They did not know that he had carried bags of flour and +mining tools over very much higher passes, close up to +the limit of eternal snow, but they did know that he set +them a difficult pace, and after two days’ climbing they +were relieved to part company with him. +</p> +<p>A professional guide who overtook them recognized the +capabilities of the man when he noticed the way in which +he lifted his feet and how he set them down. This, the +guide decided, was a man accustomed to walking among +the heather, but he was wrong; for it was the trick the +bushman learns when he plods through leagues of undergrowth +and fallen branches, or the tall grass of the swamps; +and it is a memorable experience to make a day’s journey +with such a man. For the first hour the thing seems +easy, as the pace is never forced, but the speed never slackens; +and as the hours go by the novice, who flounders +and stumbles, grows horribly weary of trying to keep up +with the steady, persistent swing. +</p> +<p>Wyllard had traveled since morning along a ridge of +fells when he sat down beside the water and contentedly +filled his pipe. On the one hand, a wall of crags high +above was growing black against the evening light, and +the stream, clear as crystal, came boiling down among +great boulders. But the young man had wandered through +many a grander and more savage scene of rocky desolation, +and it impressed him less than the green valley in +front of him. He had never seen anything like that +either on the Pacific slope or in Western Canada. +</p> +<p>Early as it was in the season, the meadows between +rock and water were green as emerald, and the hedge-rows, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +just flushed with verdure, were clipped and trimmed +as if their owner loved them. There was not a dead tree +in the larch copse which dipped to the stream, and all its +feathery tassels were sprinkled with tiny flecks of crimson +and wondrous green. Great oaks dotted the meadows, +each one perfect in symmetry. It seemed that the men +who held this land cared for single trees. The sleek, +tame cattle that rubbed their necks on the level hedge-top +and gazed at him ruminatively were very different +from the wild, long-horned creatures whose furious stampede +he had now and then headed off, riding hard while +the roar of hoofs rang through the dust-cloud that floated +like a sea fog across the sun-scorched prairie. Here, in +the quiet vale, all was peace and tranquillity. +</p> +<p>Wyllard noticed the pale primroses that pushed their +yellow flowers up among the withered leaves, and he took +account of the faint blue sheen beneath the beech trunks +not far away. There was a vein of artistic feeling in +him, and the elusive beauty of these things curiously +appealed to him. He had seen the riotous, sensuous blaze +of flowers kissed by Pacific breezes, and the burnished +gold of wheat that rolled in mile-long waves; but it seemed +to him that the wild things of the English North were, +after all, more wonderful. They harmonized with the +country’s deep peacefulness; their beauty was chaste, fairy-like +and ethereal. +</p> +<p>By and by a wood pigeon cooed softly somewhere in +the shadows, and a brown thrush perched on a bare oak +bough began to sing. The broken, repeated melody went +curiously well with the rippling murmur of sliding water, +and Wyllard, though he could not remember ever having +done anything of that sort before, leaned back with a +smile to listen. His life had been a strenuous one, passed +for the most part in the driving-seat of great plows that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +rent their ample furrows through virgin prairie, guiding +the clinking binders through the wheat under a blazing +sun, or driving the plunging dories through the +clammy fog over short, slopping seas. Now, however, the +tranquillity of the English valley stole in on him, and he +began to understand how the love of that well-trimmed +land clung to the men out West, who spoke of it tenderly +as the “Old Country.” +</p> +<p>Then, for he was in an unusually susceptible mood, he +took from his pocket a little deerhide case, artistically +made by a Blackfoot Indian, and removed from it the +faded photograph of an English girl. He had obtained +the photograph from the lad who had died among the +ranges of the Pacific slope, and it had been his companion +in many a desolate camp and on many a weary journey. +The face was delicately modeled, and there was a freshness +in it which is seldom seen outside the Old Country; +but what pleased him most was the serenity in the clear, +innocent eyes. +</p> +<p>He was not in love with the picture—he would probably +have smiled at the notion—but he had a curious feeling +that he would meet the girl some day, and that it would +then be a privilege merely to speak to her. This was, after +all, not so extravagant a fancy as it might appear, for +romance, the mother of chivalry and many graces, still +finds shelter in the hearts of men who dwell in the wide +spaces of the newer lands. Shrewd and practical as these +men are, they see visions now and then, and, what is more, +with bleeding hands and toil incredible prove them to +be realities. +</p> +<p>By and by Wyllard put the photograph back into his +pocket, and filled his pipe again. It was almost dark +before he had smoked it out. The thrush had gone, and +only the ripple of the water broke the silence, until he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +heard footsteps on the stones behind him. Looking +around, he saw a young woman moving towards the river. +He watched her with a quiet interest, for his perceptions +were sharper than usual, and it seemed to him that she +was very much in harmony with what he thought of as +the key-tone of the place. She was tall and shapely, and +she moved with grace. When, poised upon a shelf of +rock as if considering the easiest way to the water, she +stopped for a moment, her figure fell into reposeful lines, +but that was after all only what he had expected, for he +had half-consciously studied the Englishwomen whom he +had met in the West. +</p> +<p>The Western women usually moved, and certainly spoke, +with an almost superfluous vivacity and alertness. There +was in them a feverish activity, which contrasted with +the English deliberation, which had sometimes exasperated +him. Now he felt that this slowness of movement +was born of the tranquillity of the well-trimmed land, and +he realized that it would have troubled his sense of fitness +if this girl had clattered down across the stones hurriedly +and noisily. +</p> +<p>At first he could not see her face, but when she went +on a little further it became evident that she desired +to cross the river, and was regarding the row of stepping +stones somewhat dubiously. One or two had fallen over, +or had been washed away by a flood, for there were several +wide gaps between them, through which the stream +frothed whitely. As soon as Wyllard noticed her hesitation, +he rose and moved towards her. +</p> +<p>“You want to get across?” he asked. +</p> +<p>She was still glancing at the water, and although he +was sure that she had not seen him or heard his approach, +she turned towards him quietly. Then a momentary sense +of astonishment held him in an embarrassed scrutiny, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +it was her picture at which he had gazed scarcely half +an hour before, and he would have recognized the face +anywhere. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered. “It is rather a long way around +by the bridge, but some of the stones seem to have disappeared +since I last came this way.” +</p> +<p>She spoke, as Wyllard had expected, softly and quietly. +Because he was first of all a man of action, Wyllard forthwith +waded into the river. Then he turned and held out +his hand to her. +</p> +<p>“It isn’t a very long step. You ought to manage it,” +he said. +</p> +<p>The girl favored him with a swift glance of uncertainty. +At first she had supposed him to be one of the +walking tourists or climbers who usually invaded the valleys +at Easter; but they were, for the most part, young +men from the cities, and this stranger’s face was darkened +by the sun. There was also an indefinite suggestion +of strength in the poise of his lean, symmetrical figure, +which could only have come from strenuous labor in the +open air. She noticed that while the average Englishman +would have asked permission to help her, or would have +deprecated the offer, this stranger did nothing of the kind. +He stood with the water frothing about his ankles, holding +out his hand. +</p> +<p>She had no hesitation about accepting Wyllard’s aid, +and, while he waded through the river, she stepped lightly +from stone to stone until she came to a wide gap, where +the stream was deep. She stopped a moment, gazing at +the foaming water, until the man’s hand tightened on her +fingers, and she felt his other hand rest upon her waist. +</p> +<p>“Now,” he assured her, “I won’t let you fall.” +</p> +<p>She was on the other side of the gap in another moment. +Wondering uneasily why she had obeyed the compelling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +pressure, but glad to see that the stranger’s face +was perfectly unmoved, and that he was evidently quite +unconscious of having done anything unusual, she crossed +without mishap. When they stood on the shingle he +dropped her hand. +</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she said. “I’m afraid you got rather +wet.” +</p> +<p>The man laughed, and he had a pleasant laugh. “Oh,” +he replied, “I’m used to it.” There was a little silence +and he asked: “Isn’t there a village with a hotel in it, +a mile or two from here?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” the girl answered, “this is the way. The path +goes up to the highroad through the larch wood.” +</p> +<p>She turned into the path, and, though she had not expected +him to accompany her, the man walked beside her. +Still she did not resent it. His manner was deferential, +and she liked his face, while there was, after all, no reason +why he should stay behind when he was going the same +way. He walked beside her silently for several minutes +as they went on through the gloom of the larches, where +a sweet, resinous odor crept into the still evening air, +and then he looked up as they came to a towering pine. +</p> +<p>“Have you many of those trees over here?” he asked. +</p> +<p>A light dawned upon the girl, for, though he had spoken +without a perceptible accent, she had been slightly puzzled +by something in his speech and appearance. +</p> +<p>“I believe they’re not uncommon. You are an American?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed. “No,” he replied. “I was born in +Western Canada, but I think I’m as English as you are, +in some respects, though I never quite realized it until +to-night. It isn’t exactly because my father came from +this country, either.” +</p> +<p>The girl was astonished at this answer, and still more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +at the indefinite something in his manner which seemed +to indicate that he expected her to understand, as, indeed, +she did. Her only dowry had been an expensive education +and she remembered that the influence of the isle +she lived in had in turn fastened on Saxons, Norsemen, +Normans, and made them Englishmen. What was more, +so far as she had read, those who had gone out South or +Westwards had carried that influence with them, and, +under all their surface changes, and sometimes their grievances +against the Motherland, were, in the great essentials, +wholly English still. +</p> +<p>“But,” she remarked at random, “how can you be sure +that I’m English?” +</p> +<p>It was quite dark in among the trees, but she fancied +there was a smile in her companion’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” he answered simply, “you couldn’t be anything +else!” +</p> +<p>She accepted this as a compliment, though she knew +that it had not been his intention to flatter her. His general +attitude since she had met him scarcely suggested +such, a lack of good taste. She was becoming mildly interested +in the stranger, but she possessed several essentially +English characteristics, and it did not appear advisable +to encourage him too much. She said nothing +further, and it was he who spoke first. +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” he said, “if you knew a young lad who +went out to Canada a few years ago. His name was Pattinson—Henry +Pattinson.” +</p> +<p>“No,” the girl answered quickly. “I certainly did not. +But the name is not an uncommon one. There are a good +many Pattinsons in the North.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard was not surprised by this answer. He had +reasons for believing that the name under which the lad +he had befriended had enrolled himself was not the correct +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +one. It would, of course, have been easy to describe +the boy, but Wyllard was shrewd, and noticing that there +was now a restraint in the girl’s manner he could not +speak prematurely. He was aware that most of the English +are characterized by a certain reserve, and apt to retire +into their shells if pressed too hard. He did not, +however, mean to let this girl elude him altogether. +</p> +<p>“It really doesn’t matter,” he responded. “I shall +no doubt get upon his trail in due time.” +</p> +<p>They reached the highroad a minute or two later, and +the girl turned to him. +</p> +<p>“Thank you again,” she said. “If you go straight +on you will come to the village in about a quarter of an +hour.” +</p> +<p>She turned away and left him standing with his soft +hat in his hand. He stood quite still for almost a minute +after she had gone. When he reached the inn its +old-world simplicity delighted him. It was built with +thick walls of slate, and roofed with ponderous flags. In +Canada, where the frost was Arctic, they used thin cedar +shingles. The room in which his meal was spread was +paneled with oak that had turned black with age. Great +rough-hewn beams of four times the size that anybody +would have used for the purpose in the West supported the +low ceiling. There was a fire in the wide hearth and the +ruddy gleam of burnished copper utensils pierced the +shadows. The room was large, but there was only a single +candle upon the table. He liked the gloomy interior, and +he felt that a garish light would somehow be out of harmony. +</p> +<p>By and by his hostess appeared to clear the things away. +She was a little, withered old woman, with shrewd, +kindly eyes, and a russet tinge in her cheeks. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“There’s a good light, and company in the sitting-room,” +she said. “We’ve three young men staying with +us. They’ve been up the Pike.” +</p> +<p>“I’d sooner stay here, if I may,” replied Wyllard. +“I don’t quite know yet if I’ll go on to-morrow. One +can get through to Langley Dale by the Hause, as I think +you call it?” +</p> +<p>The wrinkled dame said that pedestrians often went +that way. +</p> +<p>“There are some prosperous folks—people of station—living +round here?” Wyllard asked casually. +</p> +<p>“There’s the vicar. I don’t know that he’s what you’d +call prosperous. Then there’s Mr. Martindale, of Rushyholme, +and Little, of the Ghyll.” +</p> +<p>“Has any of them a daughter of about twenty-four +years of age?” Wyllard described the girl he had met to +the best of his ability. +</p> +<p>It was evident that the landlady did not recognize the +description, but she thought a moment. +</p> +<p>“No,” she answered, “there’s nobody like that; but I +did hear that they’d a young lady staying at the vicarage.” +</p> +<p>She changed the subject abruptly, and Wyllard once +more decided that the English did not like questions. +</p> +<p>“You’re a stranger, sir?” she inquired. +</p> +<p>“I am,” said Wyllard. “I’ve some business to attend +to further on, but I came along on foot, to see the fells, +and I’m glad I did. It’s a great and wonderful country +you’re living in. That is,” he added gravely, “when you +get outside the towns. There are things in some of the +cities that most make one ill.” +</p> +<p>He stood up. “That tray’s too heavy for you. Won’t +you let me carry it?” +</p> +<p>The landlady was plainly amazed at his words, but she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +made it clear that she desired no assistance. When she +went out Wyllard, who sat down again, took out the +photograph. He gazed at it steadfastly. +</p> +<p>“There’s rather more than mere prettiness there, but +I don’t know that I want to keep it now,” he reflected. +“It’s way behind the original. She has grown since it +was taken—just as one would expect that girl to grow.” +</p> +<p>He lighted his pipe and smoked thoughtfully until he +arrived at a decision. +</p> +<p>“One can’t force the running in this country. They +don’t like it,” he said. “I’ll lie by a day or two, and keep +an eye on that vicarage.” +</p> +<p>In the meanwhile his hostess was discussing him with a +niece. +</p> +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know what that man is,” she informed +the younger woman. “He has got the manners +of a gentleman, but he walks like a fell shepherd, and his +hands are like a navvy’s. A man’s hands now and then +tell you a good deal about him. Besides, of all things, +he wanted to carry his tray away. Said it was too heavy +for me.” +</p> +<p>“Oh,” replied her niece, “he’s an American. There’s +no accounting for them.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_HER_PICTURE' id='VI_HER_PICTURE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>HER PICTURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Wyllard stayed at the inn three days without seeing +anything more of the girl whom he had met beside the +stream, although he diligently watched for her. He had +long felt it was his duty to communicate with the relatives +of the lad that he had befriended, and the fact that +he had found the girl’s photograph in the young Englishman’s +possession made it appear highly probable that she +could assist him in tracing the family. Apart from this, +he could not quite analyze his motives for desiring to see +more of the Englishwoman, though he was conscious of +the desire. Her picture had been a companion to him in +his wanderings, and now and then he had found a certain +solace in gazing at it. Now that he had seen her in the +flesh he was willing to admit that he had never met any +woman who had made such an impression on him. +</p> +<p>It was, of course, possible for him to call at the vicarage, +but though he meant to adopt that course as a last +resort, there were certain objections to it. He did not +know the girl’s name, and there was nobody to say a word +for him. So far as his experience went, the English +were apt to be reticent and reserved to a stranger. It +seemed to him that, although the girl might give him the +information which he required, their acquaintance probably +would terminate then and there. She would, he decided, +be less likely to stand upon her guard if he could +contrive to meet her casually without prearrangement. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>On the fourth day fortune favored him, for he came +upon her endeavoring to open a tottering gate where a +stony hill track led off from the smooth white road. As +it happened, he had received a letter from Mrs. Hastings +that morning, fixing the date of her departure, and it +was necessary for him to discharge the duty with which +Hawtrey had saddled him as soon as possible. The +Grange, where he understood Miss Ismay was then staying, +lay thirty miles away across the fells, and he had +decided to start early on the morrow. That being the +case, it was clear that he must make the most of this +opportunity; but he realized that it would be advisable +to proceed circumspectly. Saying nothing, he set his +shoulder to the gate, and lifting it on its decrepit hinges +swung it open. +</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said the girl. Remembering that the +words were the last that she had said to him, she smiled, +as she added: “It is the second time you have appeared +when I was in difficulties.” +</p> +<p>In spite of his resolution to proceed cautiously, a +twinkle crept into Wyllard’s eyes, and suggested that the +fact she had mentioned was not so much of a coincidence +as it probably appeared. She saw the look that told her +what he was thinking, and was about to pass on, when +he stopped her with a gesture. +</p> +<p>“The fact is, I have been looking out for you the last +three days,” he confessed. +</p> +<p>He feared the girl had taken alarm at this candid statement, +and spread his hands out deprecatingly. “Won’t +you hear me out?” he added. “There’s a matter I must +put before you, but I won’t keep you long.” +</p> +<p>The girl was a little puzzled, and naturally curious. +It struck her as strange that his admission should have +aroused in her very little indignation; but she felt that it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +would be unreasonable to suspect this man of anything +that savored of impertinence. His manner was reassuring, +and she liked his face. +</p> +<p>“Well?” she said inquiringly. +</p> +<p>Wyllard waved his hand toward a big oak trunk that +lay just inside the gate. +</p> +<p>“If you’ll sit down, I’ll get through as quick as I can,” +he promised. “In the first place, I am, as I told you, +a Canadian, who has come over partly to see the country, +and partly to carry out one or two missions. In regard to +one of them I believe you can help me.” +</p> +<p>The girl’s face expressed a natural astonishment. +</p> +<p>“I could help you?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard nodded. “I’ll explain my reasons for believing +it later on,” he said. “In the meanwhile, I asked +you a question the other night, which I’ll now try to make +more explicit. Were you ever acquainted with a young +Englishman, who went to Canada from this country several +years ago? He was about twenty then, and had dark +hair and dark eyes. That, of course, isn’t an unusual +thing, but there was a rather curious white mark on his +left temple. If he was ever a friend of yours, that scar +ought to fix it.” +</p> +<p>“Oh!” cried the girl, “that must have been Lance +Radcliffe. I was with him when the scar was made—ever +so long ago. We heard that he was dead. But you said +his name was Pattinson.” +</p> +<p>“I did,” declared Wyllard gravely. “Still, I wasn’t +quite sure about the name being right. He’s certainly +dead. I buried him.” +</p> +<p>His companion made an abrupt movement, and he saw +the sudden softening of her eyes. There was, however, +only a gentle pity in her face, and nothing in her manner +suggested the deeper feeling that he had half expected. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></p> +<p>“Then,” she said, “I am sure that his father would +like to meet you. There was some trouble between them—I +don’t know which was wrong—and Lance went out to +Canada, and never wrote. Major Radcliffe tried to +trace him through a Vancouver banker, and only +found that he had died in the hands of a stranger who +had done all that was possible for him.” She turned to +Wyllard with a look which set his heart beating faster +than usual. “You are that man?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Wyllard simply, “I did what I could for +him. It didn’t amount to very much. He was too far +gone.” +</p> +<p>Briefly he repeated the story that he had told to Hawtrey, +and, when he had finished, her face was soft again, +for what he said had stirred her curiously. +</p> +<p>“But,” she commented, “he had no claim on you.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard lifted one hand with a motion that disclaimed +all right to commendation. “He was dying in the bush. +Wasn’t that enough?” +</p> +<p>The girl made no answer for a moment or two. She +had earned her living for several years, and she was to +some extent acquainted with the grim realities of life. +She did not know that while there are hard men in Canada +the small farmers and ranchers of the West—and, perhaps +above all, the fearless free lances who build railroads and +grapple with giant trees in the forests of the Pacific slope—are +as a rule, distinguished by a splendid charity. With +them the sick or worn-out stranger is seldom turned away. +Watching the stranger covertly, she understood that this +man whom she had seen for the first time three days before +had done exactly what she would have expected of +him. +</p> +<p>“I saw a great deal of Lance Radcliffe—when I was +younger,” she said. “His people still live at Garside Scar, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +close by Dufton Holme. I presume you will call on +them?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard said that he purposed doing so, as he had a +watch and one or two other mementos that they might +like to have, and she told him how to reach Dufton Holme +by a round-about railway journey. +</p> +<p>“There is one point that rather puzzles me,” she said, +after she had made it plain how he was to find the Radcliffe +family. “How did you know that I could tell you +anything about him?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard thrust his hand into his pocket, and took out +a little leather case. +</p> +<p>“You are by no means a stranger to me,” he remarked +as he handed her the photograph. “This is your picture; +I found it among the dead lad’s things.” +</p> +<p>The girl, who started visibly, flashed a keen glance at +him. It was evident that he had not intended to produce +any dramatic effect. She flushed a little. +</p> +<p>“I never knew he had it,” she asserted. “Perhaps he +got it from his sister.” She paused, and then, as if impelled +to make the fact quite clear, added, “I certainly +never gave it to him.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled gravely, for he recognized that while +she was clearly grieved to hear of young Radcliffe’s death, +she could have had no particular tenderness for the unfortunate +lad. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “perhaps he took it in the first place +for the mere beauty of it, and it afterwards became a companion—something +that connected him with the Old +Country. It appealed in one of those ways to me.” +</p> +<p>Again she flashed a sharp glance at him, but he went +on unheeding: +</p> +<p>“When I found it I meant to keep it merely as a clew, +and so that it could be given up to his relatives some day,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +he added. “Then I fell into the habit of looking at it in +my lonely camp in the bush at night, and when I sat +beside the stove while the snow lay deep upon the prairie. +There was something in your eyes that seemed to encourage +me.” +</p> +<p>“To encourage you?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” Wyllard assented gravely, “I think that expresses +it. When I camped in the bush of the Pacific +slope we were either out on the gold trail—and we generally +came back ragged and unsuccessful after spending +several months’ wages which we could badly spare—or I +was going from one wooden town to another without a +dollar in my pocket and wondering how I was to obtain +one when I got there. For a time it wasn’t much more +cheerful on the prairie. Twice in succession the harvest +failed. Perhaps Lance Radcliffe felt as I did.” +</p> +<p>The girl cut him short. “Why didn’t you mention the +photograph at once?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled at her. “Oh,” he explained, “I didn’t +want to be precipitate—you English folk don’t seem to like +that. I think”—and he seemed to consider—“I wanted +to make sure you wouldn’t be repelled by what might look +like Colonial <i>brusquerie</i>. You see, you have been over +snow-barred divides and through great shadowy forests +with me. We’ve camped among the boulders by lonely +lakes, and gone down frothing rapids. I felt—I can’t tell +you why—that I was bound to meet you some day.” +</p> +<p>His frankness was startling, but the girl showed neither +astonishment nor resentment. She felt certain that this +stranger was not posing or speaking for effect. It did +not occur to Wyllard that he might have gone too far, +and for a moment or two he leaned against the gate, +while she looked at him with what he thought of as her +gracious English calm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p> +<p>Pale sunshine fell upon them, though the larches beside +the road were rustling beneath a cold wind, and the song +of the river came up brokenly out of the valley. An +odor of fresh grass floated about them, and the dry, cold +smell of the English spring was in the air. Across the +valley dim ghosts of hills lighted by evanescent gleams rose +out of the east wind grayness with shadowy grandeur. +</p> +<p>Then Wyllard aroused himself. “I wonder if I ought +to write Major Radcliffe and tell him what my object is +before I call,” he said. “It would make the thing a little +easier.” +</p> +<p>The girl rose. “Yes,” she assented, “that would, perhaps, +be wiser.” She glanced at the photograph which +was still in her hand. “It has served its purpose. I +scarcely think it would be of any great interest to Major +Radcliffe.” +</p> +<p>She saw his face change as she made it evident that +she did not mean to give the portrait back to him. There +was, at least, one excellent reason why she would not have +her picture in a strange man’s hands. +</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she said, “for the story. I am glad +we have met; but I’m afraid I have already kept my +friends waiting for me.” +</p> +<p>She turned away, and it occurred to Wyllard that +he had made a very indifferent use of the opportunity, +since she had neither asked his name nor told him hers. +It was, however, evident that he could not well run after +her and demand her name, and he decided that he could +in all probability obtain it from Major Radcliffe. Still, he +regretted his lack of adroitness as he walked back to the +inn, where he wrote two letters when he had consulted a +map and his landlady. Dufton Holme, he discovered, was +a small village within a mile or two of the Grange where, +as Miss Rawlinson had informed him, Agatha Ismay was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +then staying. One letter was addressed to her, and he formally +asked permission to call upon her with a message +from George Hawtrey. The other was to Major Radcliffe, +and in both he said that an answer would reach him +at the inn which his landlady had informed him was to be +found not far from both of the houses he intended to +visit. +</p> +<p>He set out on foot next morning, and, after climbing +a steep pass, followed a winding track across a waste of +empty moor until he struck a smooth white road, which +led past a rock-girt lake and into a deep valley. It was +six o’clock in the morning when he started, and three in +the afternoon when he reached the inn, where he found +an answer to one of the letters awaiting him. It was +from Major Radcliffe, who desired an interview with him +as soon as possible. +</p> +<p>Within an hour he was on his way to the Major’s +house, where a gray-haired man, whose yellow skin suggested +long exposure to a tropical sun, and a little withered +lady were waiting for him. They received him +graciously, but there was an indefinite something in their +manner and bearing which Wyllard, who had read a great +deal, recognized, though he had never been brought into +actual contact with it until then. He felt that he could +not have expected to come across such people anywhere +but in England, unless it was at the headquarters of a +British battalion in India. +</p> +<p>He told his story tersely, softening unpleasant details +and making little of what he had done. The gray-haired +man listened gravely with an unmoved face, though a +trace of moisture crept into the little lady’s eyes. There +was silence for a moment or two when he had finished, +and then Major Radcliffe, whose manner was very quiet, +turned to him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p> +<p>“You have laid me under an obligation, which I could +never wipe out, even if I wished it,” he said. “It was +my only son you buried out there in Canada.” +</p> +<p>He broke off for a moment, and his quietness was more +marked than ever when he went on again. +</p> +<p>“As you have no doubt surmised, we quarreled,” he +said. “He was extravagant and careless—at least I +thought that then—but now it seems to me that I was unduly +hard on him. His mother”—and he turned to the +little lady with an inclination that pleased Wyllard curiously—“was +sure of it at the time. In any case, I took +the wrong way, and he went out to Canada. I made that, +at least, easy for him—and I have been sorry ever since.” +</p> +<p>He paused again with a little expressive gesture. “It +seems due to him, and you, that I should tell you this. +When no word reached us I had inquiries made, through +a banker, who, discovering that he had registered at a +hotel as Pattinson, at length traced him to a British +Columbian silver mine. He had, however, left the mine +shortly before my correspondent learned that he had been +employed there, and all that the banker could tell me was +that an unknown prospector had nursed my boy until he +died.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard took out a watch and the clasp of a workman’s +belt from his pocket, and laid them gently on Mrs. Radcliffe’s +knee. He saw her eyes fill, and turned his head +away. +</p> +<p>“I feel that you may blame me for not writing sooner, +but it was only a very little while ago that I was able to +trace you, and then it was only by a very curious—coincidence,” +he explained presently. +</p> +<p>He did not consider it advisable to mention the photograph. +It seemed to him that the girl would not like it. +Nor, though he was greatly tempted, did he care to make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +inquiries concerning her just then. In another moment +or two the Major spoke again. +</p> +<p>“If I can make your stay here pleasanter in any way +I should be delighted,” he said. “If you will take up +your quarters with us I will send down to the inn for your +things.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard excused himself, but when Mr. Radcliffe urged +him to dine with them on the following evening he hesitated. +</p> +<p>“The one difficulty is that I don’t know yet whether +I shall be engaged then,” he said. “As it happens, I’ve +a message for Miss Ismay, and I wrote offering to call +upon her at any convenient hour. So far, I have heard +nothing from her.” +</p> +<p>“She’s away,” Mrs. Radcliffe informed him. “They +have probably sent your letter on to her. I had a note +from her yesterday, however, and expect her here to-morrow. +You have met some friends of hers in Canada?” +</p> +<p>“Gregory Hawtrey,” said Wyllard. “I have promised +to call upon his people, too.” +</p> +<p>He saw Major Radcliffe glance at his wife, and he +noticed a faint gleam in Mrs. Radcliffe’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she observed, “if you promise to come I will +send word over to Agatha.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard agreed to this, and went away a few minutes +later. He noticed the tact and consideration with which +his new friends had refrained from indicating any sign +of the curiosity they naturally felt, for Mrs. Radcliffe’s +face had suggested that she understood the situation, which +was beginning to appear a little more difficult to him. It +was, it seemed, his task to explain delicately to a girl +brought up among such people what she must be prepared +to face as a farmer’s wife in Western Canada. He was +not sure that this task would be easy in itself, but it was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +rendered much more difficult by the fact that Hawtrey +would expect him to accomplish it without unduly daunting +her. Her letter certainly had suggested courage, but, +after all, it was the courage of ignorance, and he had +now some notion of the life of ease and refinement her +English friends enjoyed. He was beginning to feel sorry +for Agatha Ismay. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_AGATHA_DOES_NOT_FLINCH' id='VII_AGATHA_DOES_NOT_FLINCH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>AGATHA DOES NOT FLINCH</h3> +</div> + +<p>The next evening Wyllard sat with Mrs. Radcliffe in a big +low-ceilinged room at Garside Scar. He looked about him +with quiet interest. He had now and then passed a day +or two in huge Western hotels, but he had never seen +anything quite like that room. The sheer physical comfort +of its arrangements appealed to him, but after all +he was not one who had ever studied his bodily ease very +much, and what he regarded as the chaste refinement of +its adornment had a deeper effect than a mere appeal to +the material side of his nature. Though he had lived for +the most part in the bush and on the prairie, he had +somehow acquired an artistic susceptibility. +</p> +<p>The furniture was old, and perhaps a trifle shabby, +but it was of beautiful design. Curtains, carpets and +tinted walls formed a harmony of soft coloring, and +there were scattered here and there dainty works of art, +little statuettes from Italy, and wonderful Indian ivory +and silver work. A row of low, stone-ribbed windows +pierced the front of the room. Looking out he saw the +trim garden lying in the warm evening light. Immediately +beneath the windows ran a broad graveled terrace, +which was evidently raked smooth every day, and a row +of urns in which hyacinths bloomed stood upon its pillared +wall. From the middle of the terrace a wide stairway +led down to the wonderful velvet lawn, which was +dotted with clumps of cupressus with golden gleams in it, +and beyond the lawn clipped yews rose smooth and solid +as a rampart of stone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>It all impressed him curiously—the order and beauty +of it, the signs of loving care. It gave him a key, he +fancied, to the lives of the cultured English people, for +there was no sign of strain and fret and stress and hurry +here. Everything, it seemed, went smoothly with rhythmic +regularity, and though it is possible that many Englishmen +would have regarded Garside Scar as a very +second-rate country house, and would have seen in Major +Radcliffe and his wife nothing more than a somewhat +prosy old soldier and a withered lady old-fashioned in +her dress and views, this Westerner had what was, perhaps, +a clearer vision. Wyllard could imagine the Major +standing fast at any cost upon some minute point of +honor, and it seemed to him that Mrs. Radcliffe, with +all the graces of an earlier age and the smell of the English +lavender upon her garments, might have stepped +down from some old picture. Then he remembered that, +after all, Englishwomen lived somewhat coarsely in the +Georgian days, and that he had met in Western Canada +hard-handed men grimed with dust and sweat who also +could stand fast by a point of honor. Though the fact +did not occur to him, he had, for that matter, done it more +than once himself. +</p> +<p>He recalled his wandering thoughts as his hostess smiled +at him. +</p> +<p>“You are interested in all you see?” she asked frankly. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Wyllard. “In fact, I’d like to spend some +hours here and look at everything. I’d begin at the pictures +and work right around.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Radcliffe’s smile suggested that she was not displeased. +</p> +<p>“But you have been in London?” +</p> +<p>“I have,” said Wyllard. “I had one or two letters +to persons there, and they did all they could to entertain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +me. Still, their places were different; they +hadn’t the—charm—of yours. It’s something which I +think could exist only in these still valleys and in cathedral +closes. It strikes me more because it is something +I’ve never been accustomed to.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Radcliffe was interested, and fancied that she +partly understood his attitude. +</p> +<p>“Your life is necessarily different from ours,” she suggested. +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “It’s so different that you couldn’t +realize it. It’s all strain and effort from early sunrise until +after dusk at night. Bodily strain of aching muscles, and +mental stress in adverse seasons. We scarcely think of +comfort, and never dream of artistic luxury. The money +we make is sunk again in seed and extra teams and +plows.” +</p> +<p>“After all, a good many people are driven rather hard +by the love of money here.” +</p> +<p>“No,” Wyllard rejoined gravely, “that’s not it exactly. +At least, not with the most of us. It’s rather the pride +of wresting another quarter-section from the prairie, taking—our +own—by labor, breaking the wilderness. You”—and +he added this as if to explain that he could hardly +expect her quite to grasp his views—“have never been out +West?” +</p> +<p>His hostess laughed. “I have stayed down in the plains +through the hot season in stifling cantonments, and have +once or twice been in Indian cholera camps. Besides, I +have seen my husband sitting, haggard and worn with +fever, in his saddle holding back a clamorous crowd that +surged about him half-mad with religious fury. There +were Hindus and Moslems to be kept from flying at each +other’s throats, and at a tactless word or sign of wavering, +either party would have pulled him down.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></p> +<p>“You’ll have to forgive me”—Wyllard’s gesture was +deprecatory, though his eyes twinkled. “The notion that +we’re the only ones who really work, or, at least, do anything +worth while, is rather a favorite one out West. +No doubt it’s a delusion. I should have known that all +of us are born like that.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Radcliffe forgave him readily, if only for the “all +of us,” which struck her as especially fortunate. A few +minutes later there were voices in the hall, and then the +door opened, and the girl whom he had met at the stepping +stones came in. She was dressed in trailing garments +which became her wonderfully, and he noticed now +the shapely delicacy of her hands and the fine, ivory pallor +of her skin. Mrs. Radcliffe turned to him. +</p> +<p>“I had better present you formally to Miss Ismay,” she +said. “Agatha, this is Mr. Wyllard, who I understand +has brought you a message from Canada.” +</p> +<p>There was no doubt that Wyllard was blankly astonished, +and for a moment the girl was clearly startled, too. +</p> +<p>“You!” was all she said. +</p> +<p>She held out her hand before she turned to speak to +Mrs. Radcliffe. It was a relief to both when dinner was +announced. +</p> +<p>Wyllard sat next to his hostess, and was not sorry that +he was called upon to take part only in casual general +conversation. He thought once or twice that Miss Ismay +was unobtrusively studying him. It was nearly an hour +after the dinner when Mrs. Radcliffe left them alone in +the drawing-room. +</p> +<p>“You have, no doubt, a good deal to talk about, and +you needn’t join us until you’re ready,” she said. “The +Major always reads the London papers after dinner.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat in a low chair near the hearth, and it occurred +to Wyllard, who took a place opposite her, that she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +was too delicate and dainty, too over-cultivated, in fact, to +marry Hawtrey. This was rather curious, since he had +hitherto regarded his comrade as a typical well-educated +Englishman; but it now seemed to him that there was a +certain streak of coarseness in Gregory. The man, it suddenly +flashed upon him, was self-indulgent, and the careless +ease of manner, which he had once liked, was too +much in evidence. +</p> +<p>Agatha turned to him. +</p> +<p>“I understand that Gregory is recovering rapidly?” +she said. +</p> +<p>Wyllard assured her that Hawtrey was convalescing, and +Agatha said quietly, “He wants me to go out to him.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard felt that if a girl of that sort had promised +to marry him he would not have sent for her, but would +have come in person, if he had been compelled to pledge +his last possessions, or crawl to the tideway on his hands +and knees. For all that he was ready to defend his friend. +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid it’s necessary,” he said. “Gregory was +quite unfit for such a journey when I left, and he must +be ready to commence the season’s campaign with the first +of the spring. Our summer is short, you see, and with +our one-crop farming it’s indispensable to get the seed in +early. In fact, he will be badly behind as it is.” +</p> +<p>This was not particularly tactful, since, without intending +it, he made it evident that he felt his comrade had +been to some extent remiss; but Agatha smiled. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she replied, “I understand! You needn’t labor +with excuses. But doesn’t the same thing apply to you?” +</p> +<p>“It certainly did. Now, however, things have become +a little easier. My holding is larger than Gregory’s, and +I have a foreman who can look after it for me.” +</p> +<p>“Gregory said that you were a great friend of his.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard seized this opportunity. “He was a great friend +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +of mine and I like to think it means the same thing. In +fact it’s reasonably certain that he saved my life for me.” +</p> +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Agatha; “that is a thing he didn’t +mention. How did it come about?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard was glad to tell the story. He was anxious +to say all he honestly could in Hawtrey’s favor. +</p> +<p>“We were at work on a railroad trestle—a towering +wooden bridge, in British Columbia. It stretched across +a deep ravine with great boulders and there was a stream +in the bottom of it. He stood high up on a staging close +beneath the rails. A fast freight, a huge general produce +train came down the track, with one of the new big locomotives +hauling it, and when the cars went banging by +above us we could hardly hold on to the bridge. The construction +foreman was a hustler, and we had to get the +spikes in. I was swinging the hammer when I felt the +plank beneath me slip. The train, it seems, had jarred +loose the bolt around which we had our lashings. For a +moment I felt that I was going down into the gorge, and +then Gregory leaned out and grabbed me. He had only +one free hand to do it with, and when he felt my weight +one foot swung out from the stringer he had sprung to. It +seemed certain that I would pull him with me, too. We +hung like that for a space—I don’t quite know how long.” +</p> +<p>He paused for a moment, apparently feeling the stress +of it again, and there was a faint thrill in his voice when +he went on. +</p> +<p>“It was then,” he said, “I knew just what kind of +man Gregory Hawtrey was. Anybody else would have +let me go; but he held on. I got my hand on some of the +framing, and he swung me on to the stringer.” +</p> +<p>He saw the gleam in Agatha’s eyes. “Oh!” she cried, +“that is just what he must have done. He was like that +always—impulsive, splendidly generous.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p> +<p>Wyllard felt that he had succeeded, though he knew +that there were men on the prairie who called his comrade +slackly careless, instead of impulsive. Agatha spoke again. +</p> +<p>“But Gregory wasn’t a carpenter,” she said. +</p> +<p>“In those days when money was scarce we had to be +whatever we could. There wasn’t much specialization of +handicrafts out there then. The farmer whose crop was +ruined took up the railroad shovel, or borrowed a saw from +somebody and set about building houses, or anything else +that was wanted.” +</p> +<p>“Of course!” replied Agatha. “Besides, he was always +wonderfully quick. He could learn any game by just +watching it a while. He did all he undertook brilliantly.” +</p> +<p>It occurred to Wyllard that Gregory had, at least, made +no great success of farming; but that occupation, as +practiced on the prairie, demands a great deal more than +quickness and what some call brilliancy from the man +who undertakes it. He must, as they say out there, possess +the capacity for staying with it—the grim courage to hold +fast the tighter under each crushing blow, when the grain +shrivels under the harvest frost, or when the ragged ice +hurtling before a roaring blast does the reaping. It was, +however, evident that this girl had an unquestioning faith +in Gregory Hawtrey, and once more Wyllard felt compassionate +towards her. He wondered if she would have retained +her confidence had Hawtrey spent those four years +in England instead of Canada, for it was clear from the +contrast between her and her picture that she had grown +in many ways since she had given her promise to her lover. +He had said what he could in Hawtrey’s favor, but now +he felt that something was due to the girl. +</p> +<p>“Gregory told me to explain what things are like out +there,” he said. “I think it is because they are so different +from what you are accustomed to that he has waited +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +so long. He wanted to make them as easy as possible for +you, and now he would like you to realize what is before +you.” +</p> +<p>He was surprised at the girl’s quick comprehension, for +she glanced around the luxurious room with a faint smile. +</p> +<p>“You look on me as part of—this? I mean it seems +to you that I fit in with my surroundings, and would be +in harmony only with them?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Wyllard gravely, “I think you fit in +with them excellently.” +</p> +<p>Agatha laughed. “Well,” she said, “I was once, to a +certain extent, accustomed to something similar; though, +after all, one could hardly compare the Grange with Garside +Scar. Still, that was some time ago, and I have +earned my living for several years now. That counts for +something, doesn’t it?” +</p> +<p>She glanced down at her dress. “For instance, this is +the result of a great deal of self-denial, though the cost of +it was partly worked off in music lessons, and the stuff +was almost the cheapest I could get. I sang at concerts—and +it was part of my stock in trade. After all, why +should you think me capable only of living in luxury?” +</p> +<p>“I didn’t go quite that far.” +</p> +<p>She laughed again. “Then is Canada such a very +dreadful place? I have heard of other Englishwomen +going out there as farmers’ wives. Do they all live unhappily?” +</p> +<p>“No,” replied Wyllard, “at least, they show no sign of +it, and some of them and the city-born Canadians are, I +think, the salt of this earth. Probably it’s easy to be +calm and gracious in such a place as this—though naturally +I don’t know since I’ve never tried it—but when a +woman who toils from sunrise to sunset most of the year +keeps her sweetness and serenity, it’s a very different and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +much finer thing. But I’ll try to answer the other question. +The prairie isn’t dreadful; it’s a land of sunshine +and clear skies. Heat and cold—and we have them both—don’t +worry one there. There’s optimism in the crystal +air. It’s not beautiful like these valleys, but it has its +beauty. It is vast and silent, and, though our homesteads +are crude and new, once you pass the breaking, it’s primevally +old. That gets hold of one somehow. It’s wonderful +after sunset in the early spring, when the little cold +wind is like wine, and it runs white to the horizon with +the smoky red on the rim of it melting into transcendental +green. When the wheat rolls across the foreground in +ocher and burnished copper waves, it is more wonderful +still. One sees the fulfillment of the promise, and takes +courage.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” asked Agatha, who had scarcely suspected him +of such appreciation of nature, “what is there to shrink +from?” +</p> +<p>“In the case of a small farmer’s wife, the constant, +never-slackening strain. There’s no hired assistance. She +must clean the house, and wash, and cook, though it’s not +unusual for the men to wash the plates.” +</p> +<p>The girl evidently was not much impressed, for she +laughed. +</p> +<p>“Does Gregory wash the plates?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s eyes twinkled. “When Sproatly won’t,” he +said. “Still, in a general way they do it only once a +week.” +</p> +<p>“Ah,” observed Agatha, “I can imagine Gregory hating +it. As a matter of fact, I like him for it.” +</p> +<p>“Then the farmer’s wife must bake, and mend her husband’s +clothes. Indeed, it’s not unusual for her to mend +for the hired man, too. Besides that, there are always +odds and ends of tasks, but the time when you feel the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +strain most is in the winter. Then you sit at night, shivering +as a rule, beside the stove in an almost empty log-walled +room, reading a book you have probably read three +or four times before. Outside, the frost is Arctic; you +can hear the roofing shingles crackle now and then; and +you wake up when the fire burns low. There’s no life, +no company, rarely a new face, and if you go to a dance +or a supper somewhere, perhaps once a month, you ride +back on a bob-sled and are frozen almost stiff beneath the +robes.” +</p> +<p>“Still,” interposed Agatha, “that does not last.” +</p> +<p>The man understood her. “Oh!” he said, “one makes +progress—that is, if one can stand the strain—but, as the +one way of doing it is to sow for a larger harvest and +break fresh sod every year, there can be no slackening in +the meanwhile. Every dollar must be guarded and +plowed into the soil again.” +</p> +<p>He broke off, feeling that he had done all that could +reasonably be expected of him, and Agatha asked one question. +</p> +<p>“A woman who didn’t slacken could make the struggle +easier for the man, couldn’t she?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” Wyllard assured her, “in every way. Still, she +would have a great deal to bear.” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s face softened. “Ah,” she commented, “she +would not grudge the effort in the case of one she loved.” +</p> +<p>She looked up again with a smile. “I wonder,” she +added, “if you really thought I should flinch.” +</p> +<p>“When I first heard of it, I thought it quite likely. +Then when I read your letter my doubts vanished.” +</p> +<p>He saw that he had not been judicious, for there was, +for the first time, a trace of hardness in the girl’s expression. +</p> +<p>“He showed you that?” she asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>“One small part of it,” assured Wyllard. “I want to +say that when I first saw this house, and how you seemed +fitted to it, my misgivings about Gregory’s decision troubled +me once more. Now,”—and he made an impressive gesture—“they +have vanished altogether, and they’ll never +come back again.” +</p> +<p>He spoke as he felt. This girl, he knew, would feel the +strain; but it seemed to him that she had strength enough +to bear it cheerfully. In spite of her daintiness, she was +one who, in time of stress, could be depended on. He +often remembered afterwards how they had sat together +in the luxuriously furnished room, she leaning back in +her big, low chair, with the soft light on her delicately +tinted face. By and by he looked at her. +</p> +<p>“It’s curious that I had your photograph ever so long, +and never thought of showing it to Gregory,” he observed. +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled. “I suppose it is,” she admitted. “After +all, except that it might have been a relief to Major Radcliffe +if he had met you sooner, the fact that you didn’t +show it to Gregory doesn’t seem of any particular consequence.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard was not quite sure of this. He had thought +about this girl often, and certainly had been conscious of +a curious thrill of satisfaction when he had met her at +the stepping-stones. That feeling had suddenly disappeared +when he had learned that she was his comrade’s +promised wife. He had, however, during the last hour or +two made up his mind to think no more of her. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he declared, “the next thing is to arrange for +Mrs. Hastings to meet you in London, or, perhaps, at the +Grange. Her husband is a Canadian, a man of education, +who has quite a large homestead not far from Gregory’s. +Her relatives are people of station in Montreal, and I feel +sure that you’ll like her.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>They decided that he was to ask Mrs. Hastings to +stay a few days at the Grange, and then he looked at the +girl somewhat diffidently. +</p> +<p>“She suggests going in a fortnight,” he said. +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled at him. “Then,” she said, “I must not +keep her waiting.” +</p> +<p>She rose and they went back together to join their +hostess. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_TRAVELING_COMPANION' id='VIII_THE_TRAVELING_COMPANION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE TRAVELING COMPANION</h3> +</div> + +<p>A gray haze, thickened by the smoke of the city, drove +out across the water when the <i>Scarrowmania</i> lay in the +Mersey, with her cable hove short, and the last of the flood-tide +gurgling against her bows. A trumpeting blast of +steam swept high aloft from beside her squat funnel, and +the splash of the slowly turning paddles of the two steam +tugs that lay alongside mingled with the din it made. A +gangway from one of them to the <i>Scarrowmania’s</i> forward +deck, and a stream of frowsy humanity that had +just been released from overpacked emigrant boarding-houses +poured up it. There were apparently representatives +of all peoples and languages among that unkempt +horde—Britons, Scandinavians, Teutons, Italians, Russians, +Poles—and they moved on in forlorn apathy, like +cattle driven to the slaughter. One wondered how they +had raised their passage money, and how many years’ bitter +self-denial it had cost them to provide for their transit +to the land of promise. +</p> +<p>At the head of the gangway stood the steamboat doctors, +for the <i>Scarrowmania</i> was taking out an unusual number +of passengers, and there were two of them. They were +immaculate in blue uniform, and looked very clean and +English by contrast with the mass of frowsy aliens. Beside +them stood another official, presumably acting on +behalf of the Dominion Government, though there were +few restrictions imposed upon Canadian immigration then, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +nor, for that matter, did anybody trouble much about the +comfort of the steerage passengers. Each steamer carried +as many as she could hold. +</p> +<p>As the stream poured out of the gangway, the doctor +glanced at each newcomer’s face, and then seizing him +by the wrist uncovered it. Then he looked at the official, +who made a sign, and the man moved on. Since this took +him two or three seconds, one could have fancied that he +either possessed peculiar powers, or that the test was a +somewhat inefficient one. +</p> +<p>A group of first-class passengers, leaning on the thwartship +rails close by, looked on, with complacent satisfaction +or half-contemptuous pity. Among them stood Mrs. Hastings, +Miss Winifred Rawlinson, and Agatha. It was noticed +that Wyllard, with a pipe in his hand, sat on a hatch +forward, near the head of the gangway. Agatha drew +Mrs. Hastings’ attention to it. +</p> +<p>“Whatever is Mr. Wyllard doing there?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings, who was wrapped in furs, to protect her +from the sting in the east wind, smiled at her. +</p> +<p>“That,” she answered, “is more than I can tell you; +but Harry Wyllard seems to find an interest in what other +folks would consider most unpromising things, and, what +is more to the purpose, he is rather addicted to taking a +hand in them. It is a habit that costs him something +now and then.” +</p> +<p>Agatha asked nothing further. She was interested in +Wyllard, but she was at the moment more interested in +the faces of those who swarmed on board. She wondered +what the emigrants had endured in the lands that had cast +them out; and what they might still have to bear. It +seemed to her that the murmur of their harsh voices went +up in a great protest, an inarticulate cry of sorrow. While +she looked on the doctor held back a long-haired man who, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +shuffling in broken boots, was following a haggard woman. +The physician drew him aside, and after he had consulted +with the other official, two seamen hustled the man towards +a second gangway that led to the tug. The woman raised +a wild, despairing cry. She blocked the passage, and a +quarter-master drove her, expostulating in an agony of +terror, forward among the rest. Nobody appeared concerned +about this alien’s tragedy, except one man, and +Agatha was not surprised when Wyllard rose and quietly +laid his hand upon the official’s shoulder. +</p> +<p>A parley appeared to follow, somebody gave an order, +and when the alien was led back again the woman’s cries +subsided. Agatha looked at Mrs. Hastings and once more +a smile crept into the older woman’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Hastings, “I guessed he would feel +that he had to interfere. That is a man who can’t see any +one in trouble.” She added, with a little whimsical sigh, +“He had a bonanza harvest last fall, anyway.” +</p> +<p>They moved aft soon afterwards, and the <i>Scarrowmania</i> +was smoothly sliding seawards with the first of the ebb +when Agatha met Wyllard. He glanced at the Lancashire +sandhills, which were fading into a pale ocher gleam amid +the haze over the starboard hand, and then at the long row +of painted buoys that moved back to them. +</p> +<p>“You’re off at last! The sad gray weather is dropping +fast astern,” he said. “Out yonder, the skies are clear.” +</p> +<p>“Thank you,” replied Agatha, “I’m to apply that as I +like? As a matter of fact, however, our days weren’t always +gray. But what was the trouble when those steerage +people came on board?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s manner, she noticed, was free alike from the +complacent self-satisfaction which occasionally characterizes +the philanthropist, and from any affectation of diffidence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>“Well,” he answered, “there was something wrong with +that woman’s husband. Nothing infectious, I believe, but +they didn’t seem to consider him a desirable citizen. They +make a warning example of somebody with a physical infirmity +now and then. The man, they decided, must be +put ashore again. In the meanwhile, somebody else had +hustled the woman forward, and it looked as if they would +take her on without him. The tug was almost ready to +cast off.” +</p> +<p>“How dreadful!” said Agatha. “But what did you +do?” +</p> +<p>“Merely promised to guarantee the cost of his passage +back if they would refer his case to the immigration people +at the other end. It is scarcely likely that they’ll make +trouble. As a rule, they only throw out folks who are certain +to become a charge on the community.” +</p> +<p>“But if he really had any infirmity, mightn’t it lead +to that?” +</p> +<p>“No,” Wyllard responded dryly. “I would engage to +give him a fair start if it was necessary. You wouldn’t +have had that woman landed in Montreal, helpless and +alone, while the man was sent back again to starve in +Poland?” +</p> +<p>He saw a curious gleam in Agatha’s eyes, and added in +a deprecating manner, “You see, I’ve now and then limped +without a dollar into a British Columbian mining +town.” +</p> +<p>The girl was touched with compassion, but there was +another matter that must be mentioned, though she felt +that the time was inopportune. +</p> +<p>“Miss Rawlinson, who had only a second-class ticket, +insists upon being told how it is that she has been transferred +to the saloon.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s eyes twinkled, but she noticed that he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +wholly free from embarrassment, which was not quite the +case with her. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “that’s a matter I must leave you to +handle. Anyway, she can’t go second-class now. One or +two of the steerage exchanged when they saw their quarters, +for which I don’t blame them, and they have filled +up every room.” +</p> +<p>“You haven’t answered the question.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard waved his hand. “Miss Rawlinson is your +bridesmaid, and I’m Gregory’s best man. It seems to me +it’s my business to do everything just as he would like it +done.” +</p> +<p>He left her a moment later, and, though she did not +know how she was to explain the matter to Miss Rawlinson, +who was of an independent nature, it occurred to her that +he, at least, had found a rather graceful way out of the +difficulty. The more she saw of this Western farmer, the +more she liked him. +</p> +<p>It was after dinner when she next met him and the +wind had changed. The <i>Scarrowmania</i> was steaming +head-on into a glorious northwest breeze. The shrouds +sang; chain-guy, and stanchion, and whatever caught the +wind, set up a deep-toned throbbing; and ahead ranks of +little, white-topped seas rolled out of the night. A half-moon, +blurred now and then by wisps of flying cloud, hung +low above them, and odd spouts of spray that gleamed in +the silvery light leaped up about the dipping bows. Wyllard +was leaning on the rail when Agatha stopped beside him. +She glanced towards the lighted windows of the smoking-room +not far away. +</p> +<p>“How is it you are not in there?” she asked, noticing +that he held a cigar in his hand. +</p> +<p>“I was,” answered Wyllard. “It’s rather full, and it +seemed that they didn’t want me. They’re busy playing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +cards, and the stakes are rather high. In a general way, +a steamboat’s smoking-room is less of a men’s lounge than +a gambling club.” +</p> +<p>“And you object to cards?” +</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” Wyllard replied with a smile. “They +merely make me tired, and when I feel I want some excitement +for my money I get it another way. That one +seems tame to me.” +</p> +<p>“What sort of excitement do you like?” +</p> +<p>The man laughed. “There are a good many that appeal +to me. Once it was collecting sealskins off other people’s +beaches, and there was zest enough in that, in view +of the probability of the dory turning over, or a gunboat +dropping on to you. Then there was a good deal of very +genuine excitement to be got out of placer-mining in British +Columbia, especially when there was frost in the +ranges, and you had to thaw out your giant-powder. Shallow +alluvial workings have a way of caving in when you +least expect it of them. After all, however, I think I like +the prairie farming best.” +</p> +<p>“Is that exciting?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” returned Wyllard, “if you do it in one way. +The gold’s there—that you’re sure of—piled up by nature +during I don’t know how many thousand years, but you +have to stake high, if you want to get much of it out. One +needs costly labor,—teams—no end of them—breakers, and +big gang-plows. The farmer who has nerve enough +drills his last dollar into the soil in spring, but if he means +to succeed it costs him more than that. He must give the +sweat of his tensest effort, the uttermost toil of his body—all, +in fact, that has been given him. Then he must shut +his eyes tight to the hazards against him, or look at them +without wavering—the drought, the hail, the harvest frost, +I mean. If his teams fall sick, or the season goes against +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +him, he must work double tides. Still, it now and then +happens that things go right, and the red wheat rolls ripe +right back across the prairie. I don’t know that any man +could want a keener thrill than the one he feels when he +drives in the binders!” +</p> +<p>Agatha had imagination, and she could realize something +of the toil, the hazard, and the exultation of that victory. +</p> +<p>“You have felt it often?” she inquired. +</p> +<p>“Twice we helped to fill a big elevator,” Wyllard answered. +“But I’ve been very near defeat.” +</p> +<p>The girl looked at him thoughtfully. It seemed that +he possessed the power of acquisition, as well as a wide +generosity that came into play when by strenuous effort +success had been attained. So far as her experience went, +these were things that did not invariably accompany each +other. +</p> +<p>“And when the harvest comes up to your expectations, +you give your money away?” she asked with a lifting of +her brows. +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed. “You shouldn’t deduce too much +from a single instance. Besides, that Pole’s case hasn’t +cost me anything yet.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings joined them, and when Wyllard strolled +away the women passed some time leaning on the rails, +and looking at the groups of shadowy figures on the forward +deck. The attitude of the steerage passengers was +dejected and melancholy, but one cluster had gathered +around a man who stood upon the hatch. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” he declared, “you’ll have no trouble. Canada’s +a great country for a poor man. He can sleep beneath a +bush all summer, if he can’t strike anything he likes.” +</p> +<p>This did not appear particularly encouraging, but the +orator went on: “Been over for a trip to the Old Country, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +and I’m glad I’m going back again. Went out with +nothing except a good discharge, and they made me Sergeant +of Canadian Militia. After that I was armorer to +a rifle club. There’s places a blame long way behind the +Dominion, and I struck one of them when we went with +Roberts to Afghanistan. It was on that trip I and a Pathan +rolled all down a hill, him trying to get his knife +arm loose, and me jabbing his breastbone with my bayonet +before I got it into him. I drove it through to the socket. +You want to make quite sure of a Pathan.” +</p> +<p>Miss Rawlinson winced at this. “Oh,” she cried, +“what a horrible man!” +</p> +<p>“It was ’most as tough as when you went after Riel, +and stole the Scotchman’s furs,” suggested a Canadian. +</p> +<p>The sergeant let the jibe go by. He said: “Louis’s +bucks could shoot! We had them corraled in a pit, and +every time one of the boys from Montreal broke cover he +got a bullet into him. Did any of you ever hear a dropped +man squeal?” +</p> +<p>Agatha had heard sufficient, and she and her companions +turned away, but as they moved across the deck the sergeant’s +voice followed her. +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” he said, “a grand country for a poor man. +In the summer he can sleep beneath a bush.” +</p> +<p>For some reason this eulogy haunted Agatha when she +retired to her stateroom that night, and she wondered +what awaited all those aliens in the new land. It occurred +to her that in some respects she was situated very much as +they were. For the first time, vague misgivings crept into +her mind as she realized that she had cut herself adrift +from all to which she had been accustomed. She felt suddenly +depressed and lonely. +</p> +<p>The depression had, however, almost vanished when, +awakening rather early next morning, she went up on deck. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +A red sun hung over the tumbling seas that ran into the +hazy east astern. The waves rolled up in crested phalanxes +that gleamed green and incandescent white ahead. +The <i>Scarrowmania</i> plunged through them with a spray +cloud flying about her dipping bows. She was a small, +old-fashioned boat, and because she carried 3,000 tons +of railway iron she rolled distressfully. Her tall spars +swayed athwart the vivid blueness of the morning sky +with the rhythmic regularity of a pendulum. The girl was +not troubled by any sense of sea-sickness. The keen north-wester +that sang amid the shrouds was wonderfully fresh; +and, when she met Wyllard crossing the saloon deck, her +cheeks were glowing from the sting of the spray, and her +eyes were bright. +</p> +<p>“Where have you been?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“Down there,” answered Wyllard, pointing to the black +opening in the fore-hatch that led to the steerage quarters. +“An acquaintance of mine who’s traveling forward +asked me to take a look round, and I’m rather glad I did. +When I’ve had a word with the chief steward I’m going +back again.” +</p> +<p>“You have a friend down there?” +</p> +<p>“I met the man for the first time yesterday, and rather +took to him. One of your naval petty officers, forcibly retired. +He can’t live upon his pension, that is why he’s +going out to Canada. Now you’ll excuse me.” +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” ventured Agatha, “if you would let me go +back with you?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard looked at her curiously. “Well,” he said, with +an air of reflection, “you’ll probably have to face a good +deal that you don’t like out yonder, and in one way you +won’t suffer from a little preparatory training. This, +however, is not a case where sentimental pity is likely to +relieve anybody. It’s the real thing.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p> +<p>“I think I told you at Garside Scar that I haven’t lived +altogether in luxury!” she replied. +</p> +<p>Wyllard, who made no comment, disappeared, and +merely signed to her when he came back. They reached +the ladder that led down into the gloom beneath the hatch, +and Agatha hesitated when a sour and musty odor floated +up to her. She went down, however, and a few moments +later stood, half-nauseated, gazing at the wildest scene of +confusion her eyes had ever rested on. A little light came +down the hatchway, and a smoky lamp or two swung above +her head, but half the steerage deck was wrapped in +shadow, and out of it there rose a many-voiced complaining. +Flimsy, unplaned fittings had wrenched away, and +men lay inert amid the wreckage, with the remains of their +last meal scattered about them. There were unwashed tin +plates and pannikins, knives, and spoons, sliding up and +down everywhere, and the deck was foul with slops of tea, +and trodden bread, and marmalade. Now and then, in a +wilder roll than usual, a frowsy, huddled object slid groaning +down the slant of slimy planking, but in every case the +helpless passenger was fully dressed. Steerage passengers, +in fact, seldom take off their clothes. For one thing, all +their worldly possessions are, as a rule, secreted among +their garments, and for another, most of those hailing +from beyond the Danube have never been accustomed to +disrobing. In the midst of the confusion, two half-sick +steward lads were making ineffective efforts to straighten +up the mess. +</p> +<p>Agatha made out that a swarm of urchins were huddled +together in a helpless mass along one side of the horrible +place. The sergeant was haranguing them, while another +man, whom she supposed to be the petty officer, pulled +them to their feet one by one. A good deal of his labor +was wasted, for the <i>Scarrowmania</i> was rolling viciously, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +and as soon as a few were placed upright half of them +collapsed again. Wyllard glanced towards the boys compassionately. +</p> +<p>“I believe most of them have had nothing to eat since +they came on board, though it isn’t the company’s fault,” +he said. “There’s food enough served out, but before we +picked the breeze up the men laid hands upon it first and +half of it was wasted in the scramble. Then it seems they +pitched these youngsters out of their berths.” +</p> +<p>“Don’t they belong to anybody?” Agatha asked. “Is +there no one to look after them?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “I believe one of your charitable institutions +is sending them out, and there seems to be a +clergyman, who has a curate and a lay assistant to help +him, in charge of them. The assistant won’t be available +while this rolling lasts, and the other two very naturally +prefer the saloon. In a way, that’s comprehensible.” +</p> +<p>He left her, and proceeded to help the man who was +dragging the urchins to their feet. +</p> +<p>“Get up!” commanded the sergeant. “Get up, and +fall in. Dress from the left, and number off, the ones +who can stand.” +</p> +<p>It appeared that the lads had been drilled, for they +scrambled into a line that bent and wavered each time the +<i>Scarrowmania’s</i> bows went down. After that, every other +lad stepped forward at the word. The order was, “Left +turn. March, and fall in on deck,” and when they feebly +clambered up the ladder Wyllard, who turned to Agatha, +pointed to a door in a bulkhead of rough white wood. +</p> +<p>“It should have been locked, but I fancy you can get +in that way, and up through another hatch,” he remarked. +“The single women, and women with children, are in yonder, +and if you want to be useful there’s a field for you. +Get as many as possible up on deck.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p> +<p>Agatha left him, and her face was rather white when at +last she came up into the open air, with about a dozen forlorn, +draggled women trailing helplessly after her. The +lads were now sitting down in a double line on deck, each +with a tin plate and a steaming pannikin in front of him. +There were at least a hundred of them, and a man with a +bronzed face and the stamp of command upon him was +giving them the order of the voyage. He was the one she +had already noticed. +</p> +<p>“You’ll turn out at the whistle at half-past six,” he +said. “Shake mattresses, roll up blankets, and prepare +for berth inspection. Then, at the next whistle, you’ll +fall in on deck stripped to the waist for washing parade. +Fourth files numbering even are orderlies in charge of the +plates and pannikins.” +</p> +<p>“And,” announced the sergeant, “any insubordination +will be sharply dealt with. Now, when I was with Roberts +in Afghanistan——” +</p> +<p>Wyllard, who was standing close by, turned to +Agatha. +</p> +<p>“I don’t think we’ll be wanted. You have probably +earned your breakfast.” +</p> +<p>They went back to the saloon deck, and the girl smiled +when he looked at her inquiringly. +</p> +<p>“It was a little horrible, but I hadn’t so many to deal +with,” she said. “Do you, and those others, expect to +bring any order out of that chaos?” +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Wyllard, “with a little encouragement +they’ll do it themselves. That is, the English, Danes, and +Germans. One can trust them to evolve a workable system. +It’s in their nature. You can trace most things +that tend to wholesome efficiency back to the old Teutonic +leaven. By and by, they’ll proceed to put some pressure +on the Latins, Slavs, and Jews.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p>“But is it your business to offer them that encouragement?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed. “Strictly speaking, it isn’t in the +least, but unnecessary chaos is hateful, and, any way, I’m +not the only one who doesn’t seem to like it. There’s the +petty officer, and our friend, the sergeant, who was with +Roberts in Afghanistan.” +</p> +<p>Agatha said nothing further. She was a little surprised +to feel that she was anxious to keep this man’s good +opinion, though that was not exactly why she had nerved +herself for the venture into the single women’s quarters. +Leaving him out altogether, it seemed to her that there was +something rather fine in the way that the sergeant and the +petty officer who was going out almost penniless to Canada, +had saddled themselves with the task of looking after those +helpless lads. It was wholly unpaid labor, for which the +men who preferred to remain within the safe limits of the +saloon deck would presumably get the credit. After all, +she decided, there were, no doubt, men in every station +who helped to keep the world sweet and clean, and she believed +that Wyllard was to be counted among them. He +certainly differed in many ways from Gregory, but then +Gregory was unapproachable. She did not remember that +it was four years since she had seen Hawtrey, and that +her ideas had been a little unformed then. +</p> +<p>In the evening, Mrs. Hastings, with whom he was evidently +a favorite, happened to speak of Wyllard, and the +efforts he was making in the steerage, and Agatha asked a +question. +</p> +<p>“Does he often undertake this kind of thing?” +</p> +<p>“No,” Mrs. Hastings answered with a smile. “Any +way, not on so large a scale. He’s very far from setting +up as a professional philanthropist, my dear. I don’t remember +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +his offering to point out duty to other folks, and I +don’t think he goes about in search of an opportunity of +benefiting humanity. Still, when an individual case +thrusts itself beneath his nose, he generally does what he +can.” +</p> +<p>“I’ve heard people say that the individual method only +perpetuates the trouble,” remarked Agatha. +</p> +<p>Mrs Hastings shook her head. “That,” she said, “is +a subject I’m not well posted on, but it seems to me that +if other folks only adopted Harry Wyllard’s simple plan, +there would be considerably less need for organized charity.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_THE_FOG' id='IX_THE_FOG'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>THE FOG</h3> +</div> + +<p>During the next two days before a moderate gale the <i>Scarrowmania</i> +shouldered her way westwards through the big, +white-topped combers that rolled down upon her under a +lowering sky. There were no luxurious, steam-propelled +hotels in the Canadian trade at this time, and loaded deep +with railway metal as she was, the vessel slopped in the +green seas everywhere, and rolled her streaming sides out +almost to her bilge. She shivered and rattled horribly +when her single screw swung clear and the tri-compound +engines ran away. +</p> +<p>Wyllard went down to the steerage every now and then, +and Agatha, who contrived to keep on her feet, not infrequently +accompanied him. She was glad of his society, +for Mrs. Hastings was seldom in evidence, and no efforts +could get Miss Rawlinson out of her berth. The gale blew +itself out at length, and the evening after it moderated +Agatha was sitting near the head of one fiddle-guarded +table in the saloon waiting for dinner, which the stewards +had still some difficulty in bringing in. Wyllard’s place +was next to hers, but he had not appeared, nor had the +skipper, who, however, did not invariably dine with the +passengers. One of the two doors which led from the foot +of the branching companion stairway into either side of +the saloon stood open, and presently she saw Wyllard standing +just outside it. +</p> +<p>He beckoned to the doctor, who sat at the foot of her +table, and the physician merely raised his brows a trifle. +He was a rather consequential person, and it was evident +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +to the girl that he resented being summoned by a gesture. +She did not think anybody else had noticed Wyllard, and +she waited with some curiosity to see what he would do. +He made a sign with a lifted hand, and she felt that the +doctor would obey it, as, in fact, he did, though his manner +was very far from conciliatory. By dint of listening +closely, she could hear their conversation. +</p> +<p>“I’m sorry to trouble you just now,” apologized Wyllard, +“and I didn’t come in because that would have set +everybody wondering what you were wanted for; but one +of those boys forward has been thrown down the ladder, +and has cut his head.” +</p> +<p>“Ah!” said the doctor. “I’ll see to him—after dinner.” +</p> +<p>“It’s a nasty cut,” declared Wyllard. “He’s losing a +good deal of blood.” +</p> +<p>“Then I would suggest that you apply to my assistant.” +</p> +<p>“As I don’t know where he is, I have come to you.” +</p> +<p>The doctor made a sign of impatience. “Well,” he +said “you have told me, which I think is as far as your +concern in the matter goes. I may add that I’m not accustomed +to dictation on behalf of a steerage passenger.” +</p> +<p>Agatha saw Wyllard slip between the doctor and the +entrance to the saloon, but she saw also the skipper appear +a few paces behind them, and glance at them sharply. He +was usually a silent man, at home in the ice and the +clammy fog, but not a great acquisition in the saloon. +</p> +<p>“Something wrong down forward, Mr. Wyllard? They +were making a great row a little while ago,” the skipper +said. +</p> +<p>“Nothing very serious,” Wyllard answered. “One of +the boys has cut his head.” +</p> +<p>The skipper turned towards the doctor and Agatha +guessed that he had overheard part of the conversation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +“Don’t you think you had better go—at once?” suggested +the skipper. +</p> +<p>The doctor evidently did, for he disappeared; and Wyllard, +who entered the saloon with the skipper, sat down at +Agatha’s side. +</p> +<p>“How do you do it?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“What?” returned Wyllard, beginning his dinner. +</p> +<p>“We’ll say persuade other folks to see things as you do.” +</p> +<p>“You evidently mean the skipper, and I suppose you +heard something of what was going on. In this case, I’m +indebted to his prejudices. He’s one of the old type—a +seaman first of all—and what we call bluff, and you call +bounce, has only one effect upon men of his kind. It gets +their backs up.” +</p> +<p>Agatha thought that he did not like it, either, but she +changed the subject. +</p> +<p>“There really was a row forward,” she said. “What +was the trouble over? You were, no doubt, somewhere +near the scene of it.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed. “I sat upon the steerage ladder, and +am afraid I cheered the combatants on. It was really a +glorious row. They hammered each other with tin plates, +and some of them tried to use hoop-iron knives, which fortunately +doubled up. They broke quite a few of the +benches, and wrecked the mess table, but so far as I noticed +the only one seriously hurt was a little chap who was +quietly looking on.” +</p> +<p>“And you encouraged them?” +</p> +<p>“I certainly did. It was a protest against dirt, disorder, +and the slothfulness that’s a plague to the community. +Isn’t physical force warranted when there’s no +other remedy?” +</p> +<p>A gray-haired Canadian looked up. “Yes,” he agreed, +“I guess it is. The first man who pulled his gun in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +British Columbia was hanged right away, and they’ve +scarcely had to make an example of another since then, +though it was quite a while ago.” +</p> +<p>He paused, and smiled approvingly. “A mess of any +kind worries us, and we don’t take long to straighten it +out. Same feeling’s in the Germans and Scandinavians. +I’ll say that for them, any way. Your friends swept up +the steerage?” +</p> +<p>“They took the Slavs and Jews, and pitched them down +the second hatch on to the orlop deck. Things will go +smoothly now our crowd is on top.” +</p> +<p>“Your crowd?” said Agatha. +</p> +<p>The Canadian nodded. “That’s what he meant,” he +said. “There are two kinds of folks you and the rest of +them are dumping into Canada. One’s the kind that will +get up and hustle, break land, and build new homes—log +at first, frame and stone afterwards. They go on from a +quarter-section and a team of oxen to the biggest farm +they can handle, and every fresh furrow they cut enriches +all of us. The other kind want to sit down in the dirt +and take life easily, as they’ve always done. The dirt +worries everybody else, and we’ve no use for them. By +and by our Legislature will have to wake up and stop +them from getting in.” +</p> +<p>He went on with his dinner, but his observations left +Agatha thoughtful. She was beginning to understand one +side of Wyllard’s character. He, it seemed, stood for practical +efficiency. There was a driving force in him that +made for progress and order. It was apparently his mission +to straighten things out. Some persons of his kind, +she reflected, now and then made a good deal of avoidable +trouble; but there was in this man, at least, a half-whimsical +toleration, which rendered that an unlikely thing in his +particular case. Besides, she had already recognized that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +she was in some respects fortunate in having such a man +for her companion. +</p> +<p>Her deck chair was always set out in the most sheltered +and comfortable place. If there was anything to be seen +he almost invariably appeared with a pair of powerful +glasses. She was watched over, her wishes were anticipated, +and the man was seldom obtrusively present when +she felt disposed to talk to somebody else. It struck her +that she had thought a great deal about him during the +last few days, and rather less than usual about Gregory, +which was partly the reason she did not walk up and down +the deck with him, as usual, after dinner that evening. +</p> +<p>Three or four days later, the <i>Scarrowmania</i> ran into +the Bank fog, and burrowed through it with whistle hooting +dolefully at regular intervals. Now and then an answering +ringing of bells came out of the clammy vapor, +and the half-seen shape of an anchored schooner loomed +up, rolling wildly on gray slopes of sea. Once, too, a tiny +dory, half filled with lines and buoys, slid by plunging on +the wash flung off by the <i>Scarrowmania’s</i> bows, and Agatha +understood that the men in her had escaped death by a +hairsbreadth. They were cod fishers, Wyllard told her, +and he added that there was a host of them at work somewhere +in the sliding haze. She imagined, now and then, +that the fog had a depressing effect on him, and that when +the dory lay beneath the rail there had been an unusual +look in his face. +</p> +<p>A breeze came out of the northwest, with the sting of +the ice in it, but the fog did not lift, and the <i>Scarrowmania</i> +plunged on through it with spray-wet decks and the +gray seas smashing about her bows. It was bitterly cold +and the raw wind pierced to the bone, but the voyage was +rapidly shortening. +</p> +<p>One evening Agatha paced the deck with Wyllard. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +girl was in a strangely unsettled mood. Perhaps it was +merely the gloom of the sea and sky reacting upon her +that caused her to look forward to the landing with a certain +half-conscious shrinking. They stopped by the rails +presently, looking out upon the tumbling seas that, tipped +with livid froth, rolled out of the sliding haze, and the +dreariness of the surroundings intensified the girl’s depression. +There was something unpleasantly suggestive in the +sight of the fog that hid everything, for Agatha had been +troubled with a half-apprehensive longing to see what lay +before her. She noticed the lookout, a lonely, shapeless +figure, standing amid the spray that whirled about the +plunging bows. By and by she saw him turn and wave +an arm toward the bridge behind her, and she heard a +hoarse cry. What it meant she could not tell, but in another +moment the <i>Scarrowmania’s</i> whistle shrieked. +</p> +<p>A gray shape burst out of the vapor and grew with astonishing +swiftness into dim tiers of slanted sailcloth swaying +above a strip of hull that moved amid a broad white +smear of foam. It was a brig under fore-course and topsails, +and as the girl watched the vessel it sank to the tilted +bowsprit, and a big gray and white sea foamed about the +bows. +</p> +<p>“Aren’t we dreadfully near?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Wyllard did not answer. He was gazing up at the +bridge, and once more the whistle gave a warning blast. +It seemed that the two vessels could hardly pass clear of +each other. +</p> +<p>Wyllard laid a hand upon Agatha’s shoulder. +</p> +<p>“The skipper’s starboarding. We’ll go around to the +stern,” he said. +</p> +<p>His grasp was reassuring, and Agatha watched the +straining curves of canvas and the line of half-submerged +hull. The brig rose with streaming bows, swung high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +above the sea, sank again, and vanished with bewildering +suddenness into a belt of driving fog. +</p> +<p>Agatha was not sure that there had been any peril, but +it was certainly past now, and she was rather puzzled by +her sensations when Wyllard had held her shoulder. For +one thing, she had felt instinctively that she was safe with +him. She decided not to trouble herself about the reason +for this, and presently she looked up at him. The expression +that she had noticed now and then was once more +in his face. +</p> +<p>“I don’t think you like the fog any more than I do,” +she said. +</p> +<p>“No,” responded Wyllard, with a quiet forcefulness that +startled her. “I hate it.” +</p> +<p>“Why?” +</p> +<p>“It recalls something that still gives me a very bad few +minutes every once in a while. It has been worrying me +again to-night.” +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” said Agatha simply, “if you would care to +tell me?” +</p> +<p>The man looked down on her. “I haven’t told it often, +but you shall hear,” he replied. “It’s a tale of a black +failure.” He stretched out a hand and pointed to the +ranks of tumbling seas. “It was very much this kind of +night, and we were lying, reefed down, off one of the Russians’ +beaches, when I asked for volunteers. I got them—two +boats’ crews of the finest seamen that ever handled +oar or sealing rifle.” +</p> +<p>“But what did you want them for?” +</p> +<p>“A boat from another schooner had been cast ashore. +It was blowing hard, as it usually does where the Polar ice +comes down into the Behring Sea. They’d been shooting +seals. We meant to bring the men off if we could manage +it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></p> +<p>“Wouldn’t one boat have been enough?” +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Wyllard dryly, “we had three, and I +think that was one cause of the trouble. There was one +from the other schooner. You see, those seals belonged to +the Russians, and we free-lances could shoot them only off +shore. I’m not sure that the men in the wrecked boat had +been fishing outside the limit.” +</p> +<p>Agatha did not press for further particulars, and he +went on. +</p> +<p>“We managed to make a landing, though one boat went +up bottom uppermost. I fancy they must have broken or +lost an oar then. We got the wrecked men, but we had +trouble while we were getting the boats off again. The +surf was running in savagely, and the fog shut down as +solid as a wall. Any way, we pulled off, and went out +with a foot of water in one boat. One of the rescued men +took my oar when I let it go.” +</p> +<p>“Why did you let it go?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed in a grim fashion. +</p> +<p>“My head was laid open with a sealing club,” he said. +“Some of the other men had their scratches, but they +managed to row. For one thing, they knew they had to. +They had reasons for not wanting to fall into the Russians’ +hands. Well, we cleared the beach, and once or +twice, as I tried to bale, there was a shout somewhere near +us, and the loom of a vanishing boat. It was all we could +make out, for the sea was slopping into the boat, and the +spray was flying everywhere. If there had been only two +boats we probably would have found out our misfortune, +and perhaps would have set it straight. As it was, we +couldn’t tell that it was the same boat that had hailed +us.” +</p> +<p>He broke off for a moment, and then added quietly: +</p> +<p>“Two boats reached the schooners. There was a nasty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +sea running then, and it blew viciously hard next day. +There were three men in the other.” +</p> +<p>“Ah!” cried Agatha, “they were drowned?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made a forceful gesture. “I’m not quite sure. +That’s the trouble. At least, the boat was nowhere on the +beach next day, and it’s difficult to see how the men could +have faced the sea that piled up when the gale came down. +In all probability, they had an oar short, and the boat +rolled them out when a comber broke upon her in the darkness.” +The girl saw him close one hand tight as he added, +“If one only knew!” +</p> +<p>“What would have befallen them if they had reached +shore?” +</p> +<p>“It’s difficult to say. They could have been handed +over to the Russian authorities. Still, sealers poaching +up there have simply disappeared.” +</p> +<p>He stopped again, and glanced out at the gathering +darkness. “Now,” he concluded, “you see why I hate the +fog.” +</p> +<p>“But you couldn’t help it,” said Agatha. +</p> +<p>“Well,” answered Wyllard, “I asked for volunteers, +and the money that is now mine came out of those schooners. +It’s just possible those men are living still—somewhere +in Northern Asia. I only know that they disappeared.” +</p> +<p>He abruptly began to talk of something else, and by and +by Agatha went down to the saloon, where Miss Rawlinson, +who had not been much in evidence during the voyage, +presently made her appearance. +</p> +<p>“Aren’t you going into the music-room to play for Mr. +Wyllard—as usual?” she inquired. +</p> +<p>Agatha was disconcerted. She had fallen into the habit +of spending half an hour or longer in the little music-room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +every evening, with Wyllard standing near the piano; but +now her friend’s question seemed to place a significance +upon the fact. +</p> +<p>“No,” she replied, “I don’t think I am.” +</p> +<p>“Then the rest of them will wonder whether you have +fallen out with him.” +</p> +<p>“Fallen out with him?” +</p> +<p>Winifred laughed. “They’ve naturally been watching +both of you, and, in a general way, there’s only one decision +they could have arrived at.” +</p> +<p>Agatha flushed a little, but Winifred went on. +</p> +<p>“I don’t mind admitting that if a man of that kind +was to fall in love with me, I’d black his boots for him,” +she said. She added, with a rueful gesture, “Still, it’s +most unlikely.” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked at her with a little glint in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“He is merely Gregory’s deputy,” she said, with a subconscious +feeling that the word “deputy” was not a fortunate +one. “In that connection, I should like to point +out that you can estimate a man’s character by that of his +friends.” +</p> +<p>“Oh,” rejoined Winifred, “then if Mr. Wyllard’s strong +points merely heighten Gregory’s virtues, I’ve nothing +more to say. Any way, I’ll reserve my homage until I’ve +seen Gregory. Perfection among men is scarce nowadays.” +</p> +<p>She turned away, and left Agatha thoughtful. In the +meanwhile, Mrs. Hastings came upon Wyllard alone in +the music-room. +</p> +<p>“You look quite serious,” she remarked. +</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking about Miss Ismay and Gregory,” +Wyllard replied. “In fact, I feel a little anxious about +them.” +</p> +<p>“In what way?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“Without making any reflections upon Gregory, I somewhat +feel sorry for the girl.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings nodded. “As a matter of fact, that’s +very much what I felt from the first,” she admitted. “Still, +you see, there’s the important fact that she’s fond of him, +and it should smooth out a good many difficulties. Anyway, +she’s evidently rather a courageous person.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard sat silent a moment or two. “I wasn’t troubling +about the material difficulties—lack of wealth and all +that,” he said. “I was wondering if she really could be +fond of him. It is some years since she was much in his +company.” +</p> +<p>“Hawtrey is not a man to change.” +</p> +<p>“That,” returned Wyllard, “is just the trouble. I’ve +no doubt he’s much the same, but one could fancy that Miss +Ismay has changed a good deal since she last saw him. +She’ll look for considerably more than she was probably +content with then.” +</p> +<p>“In any case, it isn’t your affair.” Mrs. Hastings +smiled significantly. +</p> +<p>“In one sense it certainly isn’t; but I can’t help feeling +a little troubled about the thing. You see, Gregory is +quite an old friend.” +</p> +<p>“And the girl is going to marry him,” said Mrs. Hastings, +raising her eyebrows. +</p> +<p>Wyllard rose. “That reminder,” he said, “is quite uncalled +for. I would like to assure you of it.” +</p> +<p>He went out, and Mrs. Hastings sat still in a reflective +mood. +</p> +<p>“If she begins to compare him with Hawtrey, there can +be only one result,” she said. +</p> +<p>The fog had almost gone next morning, and pale sunshine +streamed down upon a a froth-flecked sea. A bitter +wind, however, still came out of the hazy north, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +<i>Scarrowmania’s</i> plates were crusted with ice where the +highest crests of the tumbling seas reached them. The +spray froze, and the decks grew slippery. When darkness +came, nobody but the seamen faced the stinging cold. +Agatha felt the engines stop late that night, and when she +went out next morning the decks were white, and she could +see dim ghosts of sliding pines through a haze of falling +snow that became bewilderingly thick at times, but the +steamer slid on through it with whistle hooting. At last +toward sunset the snow cleared away and Agatha stood +shivering under a deck-house. She looked about her with +a curiously heavy heart. +</p> +<p>A gray haze stretched across the great river, which was +dim and gray, and odd wisps of pines rose raggedly beneath +the white hills that cut against a gloomy, lowering +sky. Deck-house, boat, and stanchion dripped, and every +now and then the silence was broken by a doleful blast +of the whistle. Nothing moved on the still, gray water, +there was no sign of life ashore, and they seemed to be +steaming into a great desolation. +</p> +<p>Presently, Wyllard appeared from somewhere, and, after +a glance at her face, slipped his hand beneath her arm, and +led her down to the lighted saloon. There her heart grew +a little lighter. Once more she was conscious of the feeling +that she was safe with him. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_DISILLUSION' id='X_DISILLUSION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>DISILLUSION</h3> +</div> + +<p>The long train was speeding smoothly across the vast +white levels of Assiniboia, when Agatha, who sat by a window, +looked up as the conductor strode through the car. +Mrs. Hastings asked him a question, and he stopped a +moment. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “we’ll be in Clermont inside half an +hour.” +</p> +<p>He went on, and Mrs. Hastings smiled at Agatha. +</p> +<p>“We’re a little late, and Gregory will be waiting for us +in the station now,” she announced. “No doubt he’s got +the wagon fixed up right, but I’d like to feel sure of it. +There’s a long drive before us, and I want to reach the +homestead before it’s dark.” +</p> +<p>Agatha said nothing, but a faint tinge of color crept +into her cheeks, and Mrs. Hastings was glad to see it, for +she had noticed that the girl was looking pale and haggard. +The strain of the last few months that she had +spent in England was beginning to tell on her. She had +borne it courageously, but a reaction had set in, and the +trip had been fatiguing. The <i>Scarrowmania</i> had plunged +along, bows under, against fresh northwesterly gales most +of the way across the Atlantic, and there is very little comfort +on board a small, deeply-loaded steamer when she +rolls her rails in, and lurches with thudding screw swung +clear over big, steep-sided combers. Moreover, Agatha +had scarcely slept during the few days and nights that she +had spent in the train. It takes time to become accustomed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +to the atmosphere of a heated sleeper, and since she +had landed she had been in a state of not unnatural nervous +tension. +</p> +<p>She had found it difficult to preserve an outward serenity, +the previous day. When, at last, the great train ran +into the depôt at Winnipeg, where Gregory had arranged +to meet them, it was with a thrill of expectancy and relief +that she stood upon the car platform. There was, however, +no sign of Gregory, and, though Wyllard handed her +a telegram from him a few minutes later, the fact that he +had not arrived had a depressing effect on her. Quiet as +she usually was, the girl was highly strung. Something +had gone wrong with Hawtrey’s wagon while he was driving +in to the railroad, and as the result of it he had missed +the Atlantic train. She could not blame him for the accident, +but for all that his absence was an unpleasant shock. +</p> +<p>Feeling that her companions’ eyes were upon her, she +turned, and looking out of the window found no encouragement +in what she saw. The snow had gone, and a vast +expanse of grass ran back to the horizon! But it was a +dingy, grayish-white, and not green, as it had been in England. +The sky was low and gray, too, and the only thing +that broke the dreary monotony of lifeless color was the +formless, darker smear of a birch bluff that rose out of the +empty levels. Her heart throbbed unpleasantly fast as the +few remaining minutes slipped away. She started when a +dingy mass of something that looked like buildings lifted +itself above the prairie. +</p> +<p>“The Clermont elevators,” said Mrs. Hastings. “We’ll +be in directly.” +</p> +<p>The mass separated itself into two or three tall component +blocks. A huddle of little wooden houses grew into +shape beneath them, and a shrill whistle came ringing back +above the slowing cars. A willow bluff, half filled with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +old cans and garbage, flitted by, a big bell began tolling, +and Agatha rose when Mrs. Hastings took up her furs +from a seat close by. After that, the girl found herself +standing on the platform of the car, though she did not +quite know how she got there, for she was sensible only of +the fact that in another moment or two she would greet +the lover whom she had not seen for four years. +</p> +<p>Though she paid no great attention to them the surroundings +had a depressing effect on her. There was, however, +very little to see. The mass of the great elevators +that were silhouetted against a lowering sky, the little +cluster of houses, and the sea of churned-up mire between +them and the track comprised Clermont. There appeared +to be no station except a big water tank and a rather unsightly +shed, about which stood a group of blurred and +shapeless figures. It seemed very cold, and Agatha shivered +as she felt the raw wind strike through her. +</p> +<p>One of the figures detached itself from the rest and grew +clearer. The man wore an old skin coat spattered with +flakes of mire, and his long boots were covered with clots +of mud. His fur cap looked greasy, and the fur had been +rubbed off it in patches. But while Agatha noticed these +things it was Hawtrey’s face that struck her most distinctly, +and she became conscious of an astonishment which +was mixed with vague misgivings as she gazed at it, for it +had subtly changed since she had last seen it. The joyous +sparkle that she remembered had gone out of the eyes. +They were harder, bolder, than they used to be. The +mouth was slack—it looked almost sensual—and the man’s +whole personality seemed to have grown coarser. As she +thrust the disconcerting fancies from her the car stopped. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/wheat-106.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 352px; height: 588px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 352px;'> +“SHE WAS CONSCIOUS OF A CERTAIN SHRINKING FROM HIS EMBRACE” <i>Page</i> 107 +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></div> +<p>In another moment Hawtrey sprang up on the platform, +and his arms were about her. That brought the blood to +her face, but she felt none of the thrill that she had +expected. Indeed, she was conscious of a certain shrinking +from his embrace. He must have lifted her down, for, when +she was next aware of the presence of the friends with +whom she had traveled, she stood beside the track with Mrs. +Hastings, a man whom she supposed to be Mr. Hastings, +Winifred and Wyllard about her. Another man also was +standing close by, apparently waiting until they noticed +him. He was covered with mire, his skin coat was very +dilapidated, and Agatha thought that his boots never had +been cleaned. His hair, which had evidently been badly +cut, straggled out from under his old fur cap. +</p> +<p>Gregory apparently explained something to Mrs. Hastings. +“No,” he said, “I’m sorry it can’t be for another +week. Horribly unfortunate. It seems they’ve sent the +Methodist on down the line, and we’ll have to wait for the +Episcopalian. He’ll be at Lander’s for a few days.” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s cheeks flamed, for she realized that it was her +wedding of which they were speaking; but it brought her +a curious relief to hear that it had been deferred. A moment +or two later Gregory turned to her with questions +about his people in England. +</p> +<p>Winifred had separated herself from the group. She +was standing near her baggage, which had been flung out +beside the track, when Wyllard strode up to her. +</p> +<p>“Feeling rather out of it? I do, any way,” he remarked. +“Since we appear superfluous, we may as well +make the most of the opportunity, especially as it will +probably save you a long drive. There’s a man here who +wants to see you.” +</p> +<p>Winifred had felt forlorn a few moments earlier, but +the announcement Wyllard made was reassuring, and she +brightened perceptibly as he signaled to a man who was +standing a little further along the track. The stranger wore +rather good store clothes, and his manner was brisk and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +wholly business-like. It was a certain relief to the girl to +see that he evidently regarded her less as a personality than +as a piece of commercial machinery, of which apparently +he had been asked to make use. She had found it easier +to get on with men who looked upon her as merely part of +the office equipment. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Hamilton is in charge of the elevator yonder,” explained +Wyllard, pointing to one of the huge buildings. +</p> +<p>Then he introduced Miss Rawlinson. +</p> +<p>The elevator man made her the curtest of bows and proceeded +to arrange matters with a rapidity which almost +took her breath away. +</p> +<p>“Typist and stenographer?” he asked. “Know anything +about keeping accounts?” +</p> +<p>Winifred admitted that she possessed these qualifications +and Hamilton appeared to reflect for a moment or +two. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “in a fortnight we’ll give you a show. +You can start at—” and he mentioned terms which +rather astonished Winifred. “If you can keep things +straight we may raise you later.” +</p> +<p>“Won’t you want to see any testimonials?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Hamilton. “I’ve seen a good many +and I’m inclined to believe some of the folks who showed +them to me must have bought them.” He waved his hand. +“Mr. Wyllard assures me that you’ll do, and that’s quite +enough for me.” +</p> +<p>It struck Winifred as curious that, while Agatha had +written to Hawtrey on her behalf, it was Wyllard who had +secured her the opportunity for which she had longed. +</p> +<p>“There’s another matter,” she said hesitatingly, when +she was left with Wyllard, “I’ll have to live here?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “I’ve seen to that, though if you don’t +like my arrangements you can alter them afterwards. Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +Sandberg will take you in. She’s a Scotch Calvinist, and +even if she isn’t particularly amiable you’ll be in safe +hands. We’ll consider it as fixed, but you’re to stay with +Mrs. Hastings for a fortnight. Sproatly”—he signed to +the man in the skin coat—“will you get Miss Rawlinson’s +baggage into your wagon?” +</p> +<p>The man took off his fur cap. “If Miss Rawlinson +would like to see Mrs. Sandberg, I’ll drive her round,” he +suggested. “We’ll catch you in a league or so. Gregory +has a bit of patching to do on his off-side trace.” +</p> +<p>“He might have had things straight for once,” grumbled +Wyllard half-aloud. +</p> +<p>Winifred permitted Sproatly to help her into his +wagon—a high, narrow-bodied vehicle, mounted on tall, +spidery wheels—but she had to hold fast to the seat while +they jolted across the track and through a sea of mire into +the unpaved street of the little town. She liked Sproatly’s +voice and manner, though she was far from prepossessed +by his appearance. Two or three minutes later he stopped +before a little wooden house, where they were received by +a tall, hard-faced woman, who frowned at the man. +</p> +<p>“Ye’ll tak’ your patent medicines somewhere else. I’m +wanting none,” she said. +</p> +<p>Sproatly grinned. “You needn’t be afraid of them. +They couldn’t hurt you. I was talking to a Winnipeg doctor +who’d a notion of coming out a day or two ago. I +told him if he did he’d have to bring an ax along.” +</p> +<p>Then he explained that Wyllard had sent Miss Rawlinson +there, and the woman favored her with a glance of +careful scrutiny. +</p> +<p>“Weel,” she said, “ye look quiet, anyway.” She added, +as if further satisfied, “I’ll make ye a cup of tea if ye can +wait.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly assured her that they had not time to accept +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +her hospitality. The girl went into the house for a few +moments and returned to the wagon with relief in her +face. +</p> +<p>“I think I owe Mr. Wyllard a good deal,” she said. +</p> +<p>Sproatly laughed. “You’re not exactly unusual in that +respect,” he declared as he started the horses. “But you +had better hold tight. These beasts are less than half +broken.” +</p> +<p>He flicked the horses with the whip, and they went +across the track at a gallop, hurling great clods of mud +left and right, while the group of loungers who still stood +about the station raised a shout. +</p> +<p>“Got any little pictures with nice motters on them?” +asked one, and another flung a piece of information after +the jolting wagon. +</p> +<p>“There’s a Swede down at Branker’s wants a bottle that +will limber up a wooden leg,” he said. +</p> +<p>Sproatly grinned, and waved his hands to them before +he turned to Winifred. +</p> +<p>“We have to get through before dark, if possible, or +I’d stop and sell them something sure,” he said. “Parts +of the trail further on are simply horrible.” +</p> +<p>It occurred to Winifred that the road was far from +good as it was, for spouts of mud flew up beneath the +sinking hoofs and wheels, and she was already unpleasantly +spattered. +</p> +<p>“You think you would have succeeded making a sale?” +she asked with amusement in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” Sproatly answered confidently. “If I +couldn’t plant something on to them when they’d given me +a lead like that, I’d be no use in this business. At present, +my command of Western phraseology is my fortune.” +</p> +<p>“You sell things, then?” +</p> +<p>Sproatly pointed to two big boxes in the bottom of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +wagon. “Anything from cough cure to hair restorer, +besides a general purpose elixir that’s specially prepared +for me. It’s adaptable to any complaint and season. All +you have to do”—and he lowered his voice confidently—“is +to put on a different label.” +</p> +<p>Winifred laughed when she met his eyes. +</p> +<p>“What happens to the people who buy it?” she inquired. +</p> +<p>“Most of them are bachelors, and tough. They’ve stood +their own cooking so long that they ought to be impervious +to anything, and if anybody’s really sick I hold off +and tell him to wait until he can get a doctor. A sensitive +conscience,” he added reflectively, “is quite a handicap +in this business.” +</p> +<p>“You have always been in it?” asked Winifred. +</p> +<p>“No,” replied Sproatly, “although you mightn’t believe +it, I was raised with the idea that I should have my choice +between the Church and the Bar. The idea, however, +proved—impracticable—which is rather a pity. It has +seemed to me that a man who can work off cough cures +and cosmetics on to healthy folks and talk a scoffer off +the field, ought to have made his mark in either calling.” +</p> +<p>He looked at her as if for confirmation of this view, but +Winifred, who laughed again, glanced at the two wagons +that, several miles away, moved across the gray-white sweep +of prairie. +</p> +<p>“Shall we overtake them?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“We’ll probably come up with Gregory. I’m not sure +about Wyllard.” +</p> +<p>“He drives faster horses?” +</p> +<p>“That’s not quite the reason. Gregory has patched up +one trace with a bit of string, and odd bolts are rather +addicted to coming out of his wagon. Sometimes it +makes trouble. I’ve known the team to leave him sitting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +on the prairie, thinking of endearing names for them, +while they came home with the pole.” +</p> +<p>“Does he generally let things fall into that state?” +</p> +<p>Sproatly was evidently on his guard. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he rejoined, “it’s certainly that kind of +wagon.” +</p> +<p>He flicked the team again, and the jolting rendered it +difficult for Winifred to ask any more questions. The +prairie sod was soft with the thaw, and big lumps of it +stuck to the wheels, which every now and then plunged +into ruts the other vehicles had made. +</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, Agatha and Hawtrey had found it +almost impossible to sustain a conversation. It was a relief +to the girl to be able to sit silent and observant beside +the man whom she had promised to marry. The string-patched +trace still held, and the wagon pole was a new +one. The white grass was tussocky and long, and the trail +here and there had been churned into quagmire. Hawtrey +had packed the thick driving-robe high about Agatha +and had slipped one arm about her waist beneath it; but +she was conscious that she rather suffered this than derived +any satisfaction from it. She strove to assure herself that +she was jaded with the journey, which was, in fact, the +case, and that the lowering sky, and the cheerless waste +they were crossing, had occasioned the dejection that she +felt. There was not a tree upon the vast sweep of bleached +grass which ran all around her to the horizon. It was +inexpressibly lonely, a lifeless desolation, with only the +plowed-up trail to show that man had ever traversed it. +The raw wind which came across the prairie set her shivering. +</p> +<p>She was forced, however, to admit that her weariness +and the dreary surroundings did not quite explain everything. +Gregory’s first embrace had brought her no happiness, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +and now the close pressure of his arm left her quite +unmoved. This was disconcerting; but while she would +admit no definite reason for it, there was creeping upon +her a vague consciousness that the man beside her was +not the one of whom she had so often thought in England. +He seemed different—almost, in fact, a stranger—though +she could not exactly tell where the change in him began. +His laughter jarred upon her. Some of the things he said +appeared almost inane, and others were tinged with a self-confidence +that did not become him. It seemed to her +that he was shallow and lacking in comprehension. Once +she found herself comparing him with another man. She +broke off that train of thought abruptly, and once more +endeavored to find the explanation in herself. Weariness +had produced this captious, hypercritical fit, and by and +by she would become used to him, she said. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey was, at least, not effusive, for which she was +thankful. When they reached a smoother stretch of road +he began to talk of England. +</p> +<p>“I suppose you saw a good deal of my folks when you +were at the Grange,” he said. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Agatha, “I saw them once or twice.” +</p> +<p>“Ah!” he replied, with a trace of sharpness, “then they +were not particularly agreeable?” +</p> +<p>It seemed to Agatha that he was tactless in suggesting +anything of the kind, but she replied candidly. +</p> +<p>“One could hardly go quite so far as that,” she told him. +“Still, I couldn’t help a feeling that it was rather an effort +for them to be gracious to me.” +</p> +<p>“They did what they could to make things pleasant +when they were first told of our engagement.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was too weary to be altogether on her guard. +His relatives’ attitude had wounded her, and she answered +without reflection. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p> +<p>“I have fancied that was because they never quite believed +it would lead to anything.” +</p> +<p>She knew this was the truth now, though it was the first +time the explanation had occurred to her. Gregory’s relatives, +who were naturally acquainted with his character, +had not expected him to carry out his promise. She felt +that she had been injudicious in what she told him when +she heard his harsh laugh. +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid they never had a very great opinion of +me,” he remarked. +</p> +<p>“Then,” said Agatha, looking up at him, “it will be +our business to prove them wrong; but I can’t help feeling +that you have undertaken a big responsibility, Gregory. +There must be so much that I ought to do, and I know so +little about your work in this country.” She turned, and +glanced with a shiver at the dim, white prairie. “The +land looks so forbidding and unyielding. It must be very +hard to turn it into wheat fields—to break it in.” +</p> +<p>It was merely a hint of what she felt, and it was rather +a pity that Hawtrey, who lacked imagination, usually contented +himself with the most obvious meaning of the +spoken word. Things might have gone differently had he +responded with comprehending sympathy. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” he said, with a laugh that changed her mood, +“you’ll learn, and I don’t suppose it will matter a great +deal if you don’t do it quickly. Somehow or other one +worries through.” +</p> +<p>She felt that this was insufficient, though she remembered +that his haphazard carelessness had once appealed +to her. Now she realized that to undertake a thing light-heartedly +was a very different matter from carrying it +out successfully. Then it once more occurred to her that +she was becoming absurdly hypercritical, and she strove to +talk of other things. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p> +<p>She did not find it easy, nor, though he made the effort, +did Hawtrey. There was a restraint upon him, for when +he first saw her he had been struck by the change in the +girl. She was graver than he remembered her, and, it +seemed, very much more reserved. He had tried and +failed, as he thought of it, to strike any response in her. +He became uneasily conscious that he could not talk to her +as he could to Sally Creighton. There was something +wanting in him or her, but he could not at the moment +tell what it was. Still, he assured himself, things would +be different next day, for the girl was evidently very tired. +</p> +<p>The creeping dusk settled down upon the wilderness. +The horizon narrowed, and the stretch of grass before +them grew dim. The trail they now drove into grew rapidly +rougher, and it was quite dark when they came to the +brink of a declivity still at least a league from the Hastings +homestead. It was one of the steep ravines that +seam the prairie. A birch bluff rose on either side, and a +little creek flowed through the hollow. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey swung the whip when they reached the top, +and the team plunged furiously down the slope. He +straightened himself in his seat with both hands on the +reins, and Agatha held her breath when she felt the light +vehicle tilt as the wheels on one side sank deep in a rut. +Something seemed to crack, and she saw the off horse +stumble and plunge. The other horse flung its head up, +Hawtrey shouted something, and there was a great smashing +and snapping of undergrowth and fallen branches as +they drove in among the birches. The team stopped, and +Hawtrey, who sprang down, floundered noisily among the +undergrowth, while another thud of hoofs and rattle of +wheels grew louder behind them up the trail. In a minute +or two Hawtrey came back and lifted Agatha down. +</p> +<p>“It’s the trace broken. I had to make the holes with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +my knife, and the string’s torn through,” he explained. +“Voltigeur got it round his feet, and, as usual, tried to +bolt. We’ll make the others pull up and take you in.” +</p> +<p>They went back to the trail together, and reached it just +as Hastings reined in his team. Hastings got down and +walked back with Hawtrey to the stalled wagon. It was +a minute or two before they reappeared again, and Mrs. +Hastings, who had alighted, drew Hawtrey aside. +</p> +<p>“I almost think it would be better if you didn’t come +any further to-night,” she said. +</p> +<p>“Why?” Gregory asked sharply. +</p> +<p>“I can’t help thinking that Agatha would prefer it. +For one thing, she’s rather jaded, and wants quiet.” +</p> +<p>“You feel sure of that?” +</p> +<p>There was something in the man’s voice which suggested +that he was not quite satisfied, and Mrs. Hastings was +silent a moment. +</p> +<p>“It’s good advice, Gregory,” she said. “She’ll be better +able to face the situation after a night’s rest.” +</p> +<p>“Does it require much facing?” Hawtrey asked dryly. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings turned from him with a sign of impatience. +“Of course it does. Anyway, if you’re wise you’ll +do what I suggest, and ask no more questions.” +</p> +<p>Then she got into the wagon, and Hawtrey stood still +beside the trail, feeling unusually thoughtful as they drove +away. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_AGATHA_S_DECISION' id='XI_AGATHA_S_DECISION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>AGATHA’S DECISION</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was with an expectancy which was toned down by misgivings +that Hawtrey drove over to the homestead where +Agatha was staying the next afternoon. The misgivings +were not unnatural, for he had been chilled by the girl’s +reception of him on the previous day, and her manner +afterwards had, he felt, left something to be desired. Indeed, +when she drove away with Mrs. Hastings, he had considered +himself an injured man. +</p> +<p>His efforts to mend the harness, and extricate the +wagon in the dark, which occupied him for an hour, had +helped partly to drive the matter from his mind, and when +he reached his homestead rather late that night he went +to sleep, and slept soundly until sunrise. Hawtrey was a +man who never brooded over his troubles beforehand, and +this was one reason why he did not always cope with them +successfully when they could no longer be avoided. +</p> +<p>When he had eaten his breakfast, however, he became +sensible of a certain pique against both Mrs. Hastings and +Agatha. In planning for the day he was forced to remember +that he had no hired man, and that there was a good +deal to be done. He decided that it might be well to wait +until the afternoon before he called on Agatha, and for +several hours he drove his team through the crackling +stubble. His doubts and irritation grew weaker as he +worked, and when, later, he drove into sight of the Hastings +homestead, his buoyant temperament was beginning +to reassert itself. Clear sunshine streamed down upon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +the prairie out of a vault of cloudless blue, and he felt +that any faint shadow that might have arisen between +him and the girl could be readily swept away. He was a +little less sure of this when he saw Agatha, who sat near +an open window, in a scantily furnished match-boarded +room. She had not slept at all. Her eyes were heavy, +but there was a look of resolution in them which seemed +out of place just then, and it struck him that she had +lost the freshness which had been her distinguishing +charm in England. +</p> +<p>She rose when he came in, and then, to his astonishment, +drew back a pace or two when he moved impulsively towards +her. +</p> +<p>“No,” she said, with a hand raised restrainingly, “you +must hear what I have to say, and try to bear with me. +It is a little difficult, Gregory, but it must be said at +once.” +</p> +<p>Gregory stood still, gazing at her with consternation in +his face, and for a moment she looked steadily at him. +It was a painful moment, for she was gifted with a clearness +of vision which she almost longed to be delivered +from. She saw that the impression which had brought +her a vague sense of dismay on the previous afternoon was +wrong. The trouble was that he had not changed at all. +He was what he had always been, and she had merely deceived +herself when she had permitted her girlish fancy to +endow him with qualities and graces which he had never +possessed. There was, however, no doubt that she had +still a duty toward him. +</p> +<p>He spoke first with a trace of hardness in his voice. +</p> +<p>“Then,” he rejoined, “won’t you sit down? This is +naturally a little—embarrassing—but I’ll try to listen.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sank into a seat by the open window, for she felt +physically worn out, and before her there was a task from +which she shrank. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>“Gregory,” she began, “I feel that we have come near +making what might prove to be a horrible mistake.” +</p> +<p>“We?” repeated Hawtrey, while the blood rose into his +weather-darkened face. “That means both of us.” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” asserted Agatha, with a steadiness that cost her +an effort. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey went a step nearer to her. “Do you want me +to admit that I’ve made a mistake.” +</p> +<p>“Are you quite sure you haven’t?” +</p> +<p>She flung the question at him sharply with tense apprehension, +for, after all, if Gregory was sure of himself, +there was only one course open to her. He leaned upon +the table, gazing at her, and as he studied her face his indignation +melted, and doubts crept into his mind. +</p> +<p>She looked weary, and grave, almost haggard, and it +was a fresh, light-hearted girl with whom he had fallen in +love in England. The mark of the last two years of struggle +was plain on her. He tried to realize what he had +looked for when he had asked her to marry him, and could +not get a clear conception of his vision. In the back of +his mind was a half-formulated idea that he had dreamed +of a cheerful companion, somebody to amuse him. She +scarcely seemed likely to be entertaining now. +</p> +<p>Gregory was not a man who could face a crisis collectedly, +and his thoughts became confused until one idea +emerged from them. He had pledged himself to her, and +the fact laid a certain obligation upon him. It was his +part to overrule any fancies she might be disposed to indulge +in. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said stoutly, “I’m not going to admit anything +of that kind. The journey has been too much for +you. You haven’t got over it yet.” He lowered his voice, +and his face softened. “Aggy, dear, I’ve waited four +years for you.” +</p> +<p>His words stirred her, for they were certainly true, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +his gentleness had also its effect. The situation was becoming +more and more difficult, since it seemed impossible +to make him understand that he would in all probability +speedily tire of her. To make it clear that she could +never be satisfied with him was a thing from which she +shrank. +</p> +<p>“How have you passed those four years?” she asked, +to gain time. +</p> +<p>For a moment his conscience smote him. He remembered +the trips to Winnipeg, and the dances to which he +had escorted Sally Creighton. It was, however, evident +that Agatha could have heard nothing of Sally. +</p> +<p>“I spent them in hard work. I wanted to make the +place comfortable for you,” he answered. “It is true”—and +he added this with a twinge of uneasiness, as he +remembered that his neighbors had done much more with +less incentive—“that it’s still very far from what I would +like, but things have been against me.” +</p> +<p>The speech had a far stronger effect than he could have +expected, for Agatha remembered Wyllard’s description of +what the prairie farmer had to face. Those four years of +determined effort and patient endurance, as she pictured +them, counted heavily against her in the man’s favor. +It flashed upon her that, after all, there might have been +some warrant for the view that she had held of Gregory’s +character when he had fallen in love with her. He was +younger then. There must have been latent possibilities +in him, but the years of toil had killed them and hardened +him. It was for her sake he had made the struggle, and +now it seemed unthinkable that she should renounce him +because he came to her with the dust and stain of it upon +him. For all that, she was possessed with a feeling that +she would involve them both in disaster if she yielded. +Something warned her that she must stand firm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p> +<p>“Gregory,” she said, “I seem to know that we should +both be sorry afterwards if I kept my promise.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey straightened himself with a smile that she recognized. +She had liked him for it once, for it had then +suggested the joyous courage of untainted youth. Now, +however, it struck her as merely hinting at empty, complacent +assurance. She hated herself for the fancy, but it +would not be driven away. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he replied, “I’m quite willing to face that +hazard. I suppose this diffidence is only natural, Aggy, +but it’s a little hard on me.” +</p> +<p>“No,” replied the girl with emphasis, “it’s horribly unnatural, +and that’s why I’m afraid. I should have come +to you gladly, without a misgiving, feeling that nothing +could hurt me if I was with you. I wanted to do that, +Gregory—I meant to—but I can’t.” Then her voice fell +to a tone that had vibrant regret in it. “You should have +made sure—you should have married me when you last +came home.” +</p> +<p>“But I’d nowhere to take you. The farm was only +half-broken prairie, the homestead almost unhabitable.” +</p> +<p>Agatha winced at this. It was, no doubt, true, but it +seemed horribly petty and commonplace. His comprehension +stopped at such details as these, and he had given her +no credit for the courage which would have made light +of bodily discomfort. +</p> +<p>“Do you think that would have mattered? We +were both very young then, and we could have faced our +troubles and grown up together. Now we’re not the same. +You let me grow up alone.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t changed,” +he told her as she looked at him with deep-seeing eyes. +</p> +<p>He contented himself with that, and Agatha grew more +resolute. There was not a spark of imagination in him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +scarcely even a spark of the passion which, if it had been +strong enough, might have swept her away in spite of her +shrinking. He was a man of comely presence, whimsical, +and quick, as she remembered, at light badinage, but when +there was a crisis to be grappled with he somehow failed. +His graces were on the surface. There was no depth in +him. +</p> +<p>“Aggy,” he added humbly, when he should have been +dominant and forceful, “it is only a question of a little +time. You will get used to me.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” pleaded the girl, who clutched at the chance of +respite, “give me six months from to-day. It isn’t very +much to ask, Gregory.” +</p> +<p>Gregory wrinkled his brows. “It’s a great deal,” he +answered slowly. “I feel that we shall drift further and +further apart if once I let you go.” +</p> +<p>“Then you feel that we have drifted a little already?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t know what has come over you, Aggy, but there +has been a change. I’m what I was, and I want to keep +you.” +</p> +<p>Agatha rose and turned towards him a white face. “If +you are wise you will not urge me now,” she said. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey met her gaze for a moment, and then made a +sign of acquiescence as he turned his eyes away. He recognized +that this was a new Agatha, one whose will was +stronger than his. Yet he was astonished that he had +yielded so readily. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he agreed, “if it must be, I can only give way +to you, but I must be free to come over here whenever I +wish.” Suddenly a thought struck him. “But you may +hare to go away,” he added, with sudden concern. “If I +am to wait six months, what are you to do in the meanwhile?” +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled wearily. Now that the respite had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +granted her, the question he had raised was not one that +caused her any great concern. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she answered, “we can think of that later. I +have borne enough to-day. This has been a little hard +upon me, Gregory.” +</p> +<p>“I don’t think it has been particularly easy for either of +us,” returned Hawtrey, with grimness. “Anyway, it +seems that I’m only distressing you.” There was a baffled, +puzzled look in his face. “Naturally, this is so unexpected +that I don’t know what to say. I’ll come back +when I feel I’ve grasped the situation.” +</p> +<p>Taking one of her hands, he stooped and kissed her +cheek. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” he said, “I only want to make it as easy as +I can. You’ll try to think of me favorably.” +</p> +<p>He went out and left her sitting beside the open window. +A warm breeze swept into the room; outside a blaze +of sunshine rested on the prairie. The ground about the +house was torn up with wheel ruts, for the wooden building +rose abruptly without fence or garden from the waste +of whitened grass. Close to the house stood a birch-log +barn or stables, its sides curiously ridged and furrowed +where the trunks were laid on one another. Further away +rose a long building of sod, and a great shapeless yellow +mound with a domed top towered behind it. It was most +unlike a trim English rick, and Agatha wondered what it +could be. As a matter of fact, it was a not uncommon +form of granary, the straw from the last thrashing flung +over a birch-pole framing. Behind it ran a great breadth +of knee-high stubble, blazing ocher and cadmium in the +sunlight. It had evidently extended further than it did, +for a blackened space showed where a fire had been lighted +to destroy it. In the big field Hastings was plowing. +Clad in blue duck he plodded behind his horses, which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +stopped now and then when the share jarred against a +patch of still frozen soil. Further on two other men, silhouetted +in blue against the whitened grass, drove spans +of slowly moving oxen that hauled big breaker plows, +and the lines of clods that lengthened behind them gleamed +in the sunlight a rich chocolate-brown. Beyond them the +wilderness ran unbroken to the horizon. +</p> +<p>Agatha gazed at it all vacantly, but the newness and +strangeness of it reacted upon her. She felt very desolate +and lonely, but she remembered that she must still +grapple with a practical difficulty. She could not stay +with Mrs. Hastings indefinitely, and she had not the least +notion where to go or what she was to do. She was leaning +back in her chair wearily with half-closed eyes when +her hostess came in and looked at her with a smile that +suggested comprehension. Mrs. Hastings was thin, and +seemed a trifle worn, but she had shrewd, kindly eyes. +She wore a plain print dress which was dusted here and +there with flour. +</p> +<p>“So you have sent him away!” she exclaimed. +</p> +<p>It was borne in upon Agatha that she could be candid +with this woman who had already guessed the truth. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “for six months. That is, we are +not to decide on anything until they have passed. I felt +we must get used to each other. It seemed best.” +</p> +<p>“To you. Did it seem best to Gregory?” +</p> +<p>A flush crept into Agatha’s face. Though his acquiescence +had been a relief to her, she felt that he might have +made a more vigorous protest. +</p> +<p>“He gave in to me,” she answered. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings looked thoughtful. “Well,” she observed, +“I believe you were wise, but that opens up another +question. What are you going to do in the meanwhile?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” confessed Agatha apathetically. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +suppose I shall have to go away—to Winnipeg, most probably. +I could teach, I think.” +</p> +<p>“How are you and Gregory to get used to each other if +you go away?” +</p> +<p>Agatha made a helpless gesture. “I hadn’t looked at it +in that light.” +</p> +<p>“Are you very anxious to get used to him?” +</p> +<p>Agatha shrank from the question; but there was a constraining +kindliness in the older woman’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“I daren’t quite think about it yet. I mean to try. I +must try. I seem to be playing an utterly contemptible, +selfish part, but I could not marry him—now!” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings crossed the room, and sat down by her +side. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” she said, “as I told you, I think you are +doing right, and I believe I know how you feel. Everybody +prophesied disaster when I came out to join Allen +from a sheltered home in Montreal, and at the beginning +my life here was not easy to me. It was all so different, +and there were times when I was afraid, and my heart was +horribly heavy. If it hadn’t been for Allen I think I +should have given in and broken down. He understood, +however. He never failed me.” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s eyes grew misty, and she turned her head away. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “that would make it wonderfully +easier.” +</p> +<p>“You must forgive me,” apologized Mrs. Hastings. +“I was tactless, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. Well, +one difficulty shouldn’t give us very much trouble. Why +shouldn’t you stay here with me?” +</p> +<p>Agatha turned towards her abruptly with a look of relief +in her face, which faded quickly. She liked this woman, +and she liked her husband, but she remembered that she +had no claim on them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p> +<p>“Oh,” she declared, “it is out of the question.” +</p> +<p>“Wait a little. I’m proposing to give you quite as much +as you will probably care to do. There are my two little +girls to teach, and I think they have rather taken to you. +I can scarcely find a minute for their lessons, and, as you +have seen, there is a piano which has only a few of the keys +broken. Besides, we have only one Scandinavian maid +who smashes everything that isn’t made of indurated fiber, +and I’m afraid she’ll marry one of the boys in a month or +two. It was only by sending the kiddies to Brandon and +getting Mrs. Creighton, a neighbor of ours, to look after +Allen, who insisted on my going, that I was able to get to +Paris with some Montreal friends. In any case, you’d +have no end of duties.” +</p> +<p>“You are doing this out of—charity!” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings laughed. “A week or two ago, Allen +wrote to some friends of his in Winnipeg asking them to +send me anybody.” +</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes shone mistily. “Oh!” she cried, “you +have lifted one weight off my mind.” +</p> +<p>“I think,” observed Mrs. Hastings, “the others will +also be removed in due time.” +</p> +<p>After that she talked cheerfully of other matters, and +Agatha listened to her with a vague wonder at her own +good fortune in falling in with such a friend. +</p> +<p>There are in that country many men and women who are +unfettered by conventions. They stretch out an open hand +to the stranger and the outcast. Toil has brought them +charity in place of hardness, and still retaining, as some of +them do, the culture of the cities, they have outgrown all +the petty bonds of caste. The wheat-grower and the hired-man +eat together. Rights are good-humoredly conceded +in place of being fought for, and the sense of grievance +and half-veiled suspicion common elsewhere among employes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +are exchanged for an efficient co-operation. It +must, however, be admitted that there are also farmers of +another kind, from whom the hired man has occasionally +some difficulty in extracting his covenanted wages by personal +violence. +</p> +<p>The two women had been talking a long time when a +team and a jolting wagon swept into sight, and Mrs. +Hastings rose as the man who drove pulled up his horses. +</p> +<p>“It’s Sproatly; I wonder what has brought him here,” +she remarked. +</p> +<p>The man sprang down from the wagon and walked +towards the house. She gazed at him almost incredulously. +</p> +<p>“He’s quite smart,” she added. “I don’t see a single +patch on that jacket, and he has positively got his hair +cut.” +</p> +<p>“Is that an unusual thing in Mr. Sproatly’s case?” +Agatha inquired. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Hastings. “It’s very unusual indeed. +What is stranger still, he has taken the old grease-spotted +band off his hat, after clinging to it affectionately for the +last twelve months.” +</p> +<p>Agatha thought that the soft hat, which fell shapelessly +over part of Sproatly’s face, needed something to replace +the discarded band; but in another moment he entered the +room. He shook hands with them both. +</p> +<p>“You are looking remarkably fresh, but appearances are +not invariably to be depended on, and it’s advisable to keep +the system up to par,” he said with a smile. “I suppose +you don’t want a tonic of any kind?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t,” declared Mrs. Hastings resolutely; “Allen +doesn’t, either. Besides, didn’t you get into some trouble +over that tonic?” +</p> +<p>“It was the cough cure,” explained Sproatly with a grin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +“I sold a man at Lander’s one of the large-sized bottles, +and when he had taken some he felt a good deal better. +Then he seems to have argued the thing out like this: +if one dose had relieved the cough, a dozen should drive +it out of him altogether, and he took the lot. He slept for +forty-eight hours afterward, and when I came across him +at the settlement he attacked me with a club. The fault, +I may point out, was in his logic. Perhaps you would like +some pictures. I’ve a rather striking oleograph of the +Kaiser. It must be like him, for two of his subjects recognized +it. One hung it up in his shanty; the other asked +me to hold it out, and then pitched a stove billet through +the middle of it. He, however, produced his dollar; he +said he felt so much better after what he’d done that he +didn’t grudge it.” +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid we’re not worth powder and shot,” said Mrs. +Hastings. “Do you ever remember our buying any tonics +or pictures from you?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t, though I have felt that you ought to have +done it.” Sproatly, who paused a moment, turned towards +Agatha with a little whimsical bow. “The professional +badinage of an unlicensed dealer in patent medicines may +now and then mercifully cover a good deal of embarrassment. +Miss Ismay has brought something pleasantly characteristic +of the Old Country along with her.” +</p> +<p>His hostess disregarded the last remark. “Then if you +didn’t expect to sell us anything, what did you come for?” +</p> +<p>“For supper,” answered Sproatly cheerfully. “Besides +that, to take Miss Rawlinson out for a drive. I told her +last night it would afford me considerable pleasure to show +her the prairie. We could go round by Lander’s and +back.” +</p> +<p>“Then you will probably come across her somewhere +about the straw-pile with the kiddies.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p> +<p>Sproatly took the hint, and when he went out Mrs. Hastings +laughed. +</p> +<p>“You would hardly suppose that was a young man of +excellent education!” she exclaimed. “So it’s on Winifred’s +account he has driven over; at first I fancied it was +on yours.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was astonished, but she smiled. “If Winifred +favors him with her views about young men he will probably +be rather sorry for himself. He lives near you?” +</p> +<p>“No,” said Mrs. Hastings. “In the summer he lives +in his wagon, or under it, I don’t know which. Of +course, if he’s really taken with Winifred he will have to +alter that.” +</p> +<p>“But he has only seen her once—you can’t mean that +he is serious.” +</p> +<p>“I really can’t speak for Sproatly, but it would be quite +in keeping with the customs of the country if he was.” +</p> +<p>A minute or two later Agatha saw Winifred in the +wagon when it reappeared from behind the straw-pile, and +Mrs. Hastings turned toward the window. +</p> +<p>“She has gone with him,” she commented significantly. +“Unfortunately, he has taken my kiddies too. If he +brings them back with no bones broken it will be a relief +to me.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_WANDERERS' id='XII_WANDERERS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>WANDERERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Agatha had spent a month with Mrs. Hastings. When +they were driving over to Wyllard’s homestead one afternoon, +the older woman pulled up her team while they were +still some little distance away from their destination, and +looked about her with evident interest. On the one hand, +a vast breadth of torn-up loam ran back across the prairie, +which was now faintly flecked with green. On the other, +plowing teams were scattered here and there across the +tussocky sod, and long lines of clods that flashed where the +sunlight struck their facets trailed out behind them. The +great sweep of grasses that rustled joyously before a glorious +warm wind, gleamed luminously, and overhead hung +a vault of blue without a cloud in it. Trailing out across +it, flocks of birds moved up from the south. +</p> +<p>“Harry is sowing a very big crop this year, and most of +it on fall back-set,” she observed. “He has, however, +horses enough to do that kind of thing, and, of course, he +does it thoroughly.” She glanced toward the place where +the teams were hauling unusually heavy plows through +the grassy sod. “This is virgin prairie that he’s breaking, +and he’ll probably put oats on it. They ripen quicker. +He ought to be a rich man after harvest unless the frost +comes, or the market goes against him. Some of his +neighbors, including my husband, would have sown a little +less and held a reserve in hand.” +</p> +<p>Agatha remembered what Wyllard had told her one +night on board the <i>Scarrowmania</i>, and smiled, for she fancied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +that she understood the man. He was not one to +hedge, as she had heard it called, or cautiously hold his +hand. He staked boldly, but she felt that this was not +only for the sake of the money that he might hope to gain. +It was part of his nature—the result of an optimistic faith +or courage that appealed to her, and sheer love of effort. +She also guessed that his was not a spasmodic, impulsive +activity. She could imagine him holding on as steadfastly +with everything against him, exacting all that men and +teams and machines could do. It struck her as curious +that she should feel so sure of this; but she admitted that +it was the case. +</p> +<p>Sitting in the driving-seat of a big machine that ripped +broad furrows through the crackling sod, he was approaching +them. Four horses plodded wearily in front of the +giant plow until he thrust one hand over, and there was +a rattle and clanking as he swung them and the machine +around beside the wagon. Then he got down, and stood +smiling up at Agatha with his soft hat in his hand and the +sunlight falling full upon his weather-darkened face. It +was not a particularly striking face, but there was something +in it, a hint of restrained force and steadfastness, +she thought, which Gregory’s did not possess, and for a +moment or two she watched him covertly. +</p> +<p>He wore an old blue shirt, open at the throat and belted +into trousers of blue duck, and she noticed the fine symmetry +of his spare figure. The absence of any superfluous +flesh struck her as in keeping with her view of his character. +The man was well-endowed physically; but apart +from the strong vitality that was expressed in every line of +his pose he looked clean, as she vaguely described it to herself. +There was an indefinable something about him that +was apparently born of a simple, healthful life spent in determined +labor in the open air. It became plainer, as she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +remembered other men upon whom the mark of the beast +was unmistakably set. Mrs. Hastings broke the silence. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she said, “we have driven over as we promised. +I’ve no doubt you will give us supper, but we’ll go on and +sit with Mrs. Nansen in the meanwhile. I expect you’re +too busy to talk to us.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed, and it occurred to Agatha that his +laugh was wholesome as well as pleasant. +</p> +<p>“I generally am busy,” he admitted. “These horses +have been at it since sun-up, and they’re rather played out +now. I’ll talk to you as long as you will let me after supper, +which will soon be ready.” +</p> +<p>Agatha noticed that though the near horse’s coat was +foul with dust and sweat he laid his brown hand upon it, +and it seemed to her that the gentleness with which he did +it was very suggestive. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings, who had been scrutinizing the field, +asked, “What’s to be the result of all this plowing if we +have harvest frost or the market goes against you?” +</p> +<p>“Quite a big deficit,” answered Wyllard cheerfully. +</p> +<p>“And that doesn’t cause you any anxiety?” +</p> +<p>“I’ll have had some amusement for my money.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings turned to Agatha. “He calls working +from sunrise until it’s dark, and afterwards now and then, +amusement!” She looked back at Wyllard. “I believe +it isn’t quite easy for you to hold your back as straight as +you are doing, and that off-horse certainly looks as if it +wanted to lie down.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed. “It won’t until after supper, anyway. +There are two more rows of furrows still to do.” +</p> +<p>“I suppose that is a hint!” Mrs. Hastings glanced at +Agatha when the wagon jolted on. +</p> +<p>“That man,” she said, “is a great favorite of mine. +For one thing, he’s fastidious, though he’s fortunately very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +far from perfect in some respects. He has a red-hot temper, +which now and then runs away with him.” +</p> +<p>“What do you mean by fastidious?” +</p> +<p>“It’s a little difficult to define, but I certainly don’t +mean pernicketty. Of course, there is a fastidiousness +which makes one shrink from unpleasant things, but +Harry’s is the other kind. It impels him to do them +every now and then.” +</p> +<p>Agatha made no answer. She was uneasily conscious +that it might not be advisable to think too much about this +man, and in another minute or two they reached the homestead. +The house was a plain frame building that had +grown out of an older and smaller one of logs, part of +which remained. It was much the same with the barns +and stables, for, while they were stoutly built of framed +timber or logs, one end of most of them was lower than +the rest, and in some cases consisted of poles and sods. +Even to her untrained eyes all she saw suggested order, +neatness, and efficiency. The whole was flanked and sheltered +by a big birch bluff, in which trunks and branches +showed through a thin green haze of tiny opening leaves. +</p> +<p>A man whom Wyllard had sent after them took the +horses. +</p> +<p>Agatha commented on what she called the added-to look +of the buildings. +</p> +<p>“The Range,” said Mrs. Hastings, “has grown rapidly +since Harry took hold. The old part represents the high-water +mark of his father’s efforts. Of course,” she added +reflectively, “Harry has had command of some capital +since a relative of his died, but I never thought that explained +everything.” +</p> +<p>They entered the house, and a gray-haired Swedish woman +led them through several match-boarded rooms into a +big, cool hall. She left them there for a while, and Agatha +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +was absorbed for a minute or two with her impressions of +the house. It was singularly empty by comparison with the +few English homesteads that she had seen. There were +no curtains nor carpets nor hangings of any kind, but it +was commodious and comfortable. +</p> +<p>“What can a bachelor want with a place like this?” +she asked. +</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Mrs. Hastings; “perhaps it’s +Harry’s idea of having everything proportionate. The +Range is quite a big, and generally a prosperous, farm. +Besides, it’s likely that he doesn’t contemplate remaining +a bachelor forever. Indeed, Allen and I sometimes wonder +how he has escaped marriage for so long.” +</p> +<p>“Is ‘escaped’ the right word?” Agatha asked. +</p> +<p>“It is,” asserted Mrs. Hastings with a laugh. “You +see, he’s highly eligible from our point of view, but at the +same time he’s apparently invulnerable. I believe,” she +added dryly, “that’s the right word, too.” +</p> +<p>The Swedish housekeeper appeared again and they +talked with her until she went to bring in the six o’clock +supper. Soon after the table was laid Wyllard and the +men came in. Wyllard was attired as when Agatha had +last seen him, except that he had put on a coat. He led +his guests to the head of the long table, but the men—there +were a number of them—sat below, and evidently +had no diffidence about addressing question or comment +to their employer. +</p> +<p>The men ate with a voracious haste, but that appeared +to be the custom of the country, and Agatha could find +no great fault with their manners or conversation. The +talk was, for the most part, quaintly witty, and some of +the men used what struck her as remarkably fitting and +original similes. Indeed, as the meal proceeded, she became +curiously interested. +</p> +<p>The windows were open wide, and a sweet, warm air +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +swept into the barely furnished room. The spaciousness +of the room impressed her, and she was pleased with the +evident unity of these brown-faced, strong-armed toilers +with their leader. At the head of the table he sat, self-contained, +but courteous and responsive to all alike, and +though they were in an essentially democratic country, +she felt that there was something almost feudal in the +relations between him and his men. She could not imagine +them to be confined to the mere exaction of so much +labor and the expectation of payment of wages due. She +was pleased that he had not changed his clothing. +</p> +<p>So strong was Agatha’s interest that she was surprised +when the meal was finished. Afterward, she and Mrs. +Hastings talked with the housekeeper for a while, and an +hour had slipped away when Wyllard suggested that he +should show her the slough beyond the bluff. +</p> +<p>“It’s the nearest approach to a lake we have until you +get to the alkali tract,” he said. +</p> +<p>Agatha went with him through the shadow of the wood, +and when they came out among the trees he found her a +seat upon a fallen birch. The house and plowing were +hidden now, and they were alone on the slope to a slight +hollow, in which half a mile of gleaming water lay. Its +surface was broken here and there by tussocks of grass and +reeds, and beyond it the prairie ran back unbroken, a dim +gray waste, to the horizon. The sun had dipped behind +the bluff, and the sky had become a vast green transparency. +There was no wind now, but a wonderful exhilarating +freshness crept into the cooling air, and the +stillness was broken only by the clamor of startled wildfowl +which Agatha could see paddling in clusters about +the gleaming slough. +</p> +<p>“Those are ducks—wild ones?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Wyllard; “ducks of various kinds. +Most of them the same as your English ones.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span></p> +<p>“Do you shoot them?” +</p> +<p>Agatha was not greatly interested, but he seemed disposed +to silence, and she felt, for no very clear reason, that +it was advisable to talk of something. +</p> +<p>“No,” he said, “not often, anyway. If Mrs. Nansen +wants a couple I crawl down to the long grass with the +rifle and get them for her.” +</p> +<p>“The rifle? Doesn’t the big bullet destroy them?” +</p> +<p>“No,” returned Wyllard. “You have to shoot their +head off or cut their neck in two.” +</p> +<p>“You can do that—when they’re right out in the +slough?” asked Agatha, who had learned that it is much +more difficult to shoot with a rifle than a shotgun, which +spreads its charge. +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “Generally; that is, if I haven’t +been doing much just before. It depends upon one’s +hands. We have our game laws, but as a rule nobody +worries about them, and, anyway, those birds won’t nest +until they reach the tundra by the Polar Sea. Still, as +I said, we never shoot them unless Mrs. Nansen wants +one or two for the pot.” +</p> +<p>“Why?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t quite know. For one thing, they’re worn out; +they just stop here to rest.” +</p> +<p>His answer appealed to the girl. It did not seem +strange to her that the love of the lower creation should +be strong in this man, who had no hesitation in admitting +that the game laws were no restraint to him. When these +Lesser Brethren, worn with their journey, sailed down out +of the blue heavens, he believed in giving them right of +sanctuary. +</p> +<p>“They have come a long way?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Wyllard pointed towards the south. “From Florida, +Cuba, Yucatan; further than that, perhaps. In a day or +two they’ll push on again toward the Pole, and others will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +take their places. There’s a further detachment arriving +now.” +</p> +<p>Looking up, Agatha saw a straggling wedge of birds +dotted in dusky specks against the vault of transcendental +blue. The wedge coalesced, drew out again, and dropped +swiftly, and the air was filled with the rush of wings; then +there was a harsh crying and splashing, and she heard the +troubled water lap among the reeds until deep silence +closed in upon the slough again. +</p> +<p>“The migrating instinct is strangely interesting,” she +said. +</p> +<p>A curious look crept into Wyllard’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“It gives the poor birds a sad destiny, I think; they’re +wanderers and strangers without a habitation; there’s unrest +in them. After a few months on the tundra mosses to +gather strength and teach the young to fly, they’ll unfold +their wings to beat another passage before the icy gales. +Some of us, I think, are like them!” +</p> +<p>Agatha could not avoid the personal application. +</p> +<p>“You surely don’t apply that to yourself,” she said. +“You certainly have a habitation—the finest, isn’t it, +on this part of the prairie?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Wyllard slowly; “I suppose it is. +I’ve now had a little rest and quietness too.” +</p> +<p>His last remark did not appear to call for an answer, +and Agatha sat silent. +</p> +<p>“Still,” he went on reflectively, “I have a feeling that +some day the call will come, and I shall have to take the +trail again.” He paused, and looked at her before he +added, “It would be easier if one hadn’t to go alone, +or, since that would be necessary, if one had at least +something to come back to when the journey was +done.” +</p> +<p>“Must you heed the call?” asked Agatha, who was +puzzled by his steady gaze. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>“Yes,” he said with gravity, “the call will come from +the icy North if it ever comes at all.” +</p> +<p>There was another brief silence. Agatha wondered +what he was thinking of, but he soon told her. +</p> +<p>“I remember how I came back from there last time,” +he said. “We were rather late that season, and out of our +usual beat when the gale broke upon us in the gateway +of the Pole, between Alaska and Asia. We ran before it +with a strip of the boom-foresail on one vessel and a jib +that blew to ribands every now and then. The schooner +was small, ninety tons or so, and for a week she scudded +with the gray seas tumbling after her, white-topped, out +of the snow and spume. The waves ranged high above her +taffrail, curling horribly, but one did not want to look at +them. The one man on deck had a line about him, and +he looked ahead, watching the vessel screwing round with +hove-up bows as she climbed the seas. If he’d let her fall +off or claw up, the next wave would have made an end of +her. He was knee-deep half the time in icy brine, and +his hands had split and opened with the frost, but the +sweat dripped from him as he clung to the jarring wheel. +The helmsmen had another trouble which preyed on them. +They were thinking of the three men they had left behind. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he added, “we ran out of the gale, and I had +bitter words to face when we reached Vancouver. As one +result of the trouble I walked out of the city with four +or five dollars in my pocket—though there was a share due +to me. Then in an open car I rode up into the ranges to +mend railroad bridges in the frost and snow. It was not +the kind of home-coming one would care to look forward +to.” +</p> +<p>“Ah!” Agatha cried with a shudder, “it must have +been horribly dreary.” +</p> +<p>The man met her eyes. “Yes,” he said, “you—know. +You came here from far away, I think a little weary, too, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +and something failed you. Then you felt yourself adrift. +There were—it seemed—only strangers around you, but +you were wrong in one respect; you were by no means a +stranger to me.” +</p> +<p>He had been leaning against a birch trunk, but now he +moved a little nearer, and stood gravely looking down on +her. +</p> +<p>“You have sent Gregory away?” he questioned. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Agatha, and, startled, as she was, it +did not occur to her that the mere admission was misleading. +</p> +<p>Wyllard stretched out his hands. “Then won’t you +come to me?” +</p> +<p>The blood swept into the girl’s face. For the moment +she forgot Gregory, and was conscious only of an unreasoning +impulse which prompted her to take the hands +held out to her. She rose and faced Wyllard with burning +cheeks. +</p> +<p>“You know nothing of me,” she said. “Can you think +that I would let you take me out of charity?” +</p> +<p>“Again you’re wrong—on both points. As I once told +you, I have sat for hours beside the fire beneath the pines +or among the boulders with your picture for company. +When I was worn out and despondent you encouraged me. +You have been with me high up in the snow on the +ranges, and through leagues of shadowy bush. That is +not all. There were times when, as we drove the branch +line up the gorge beneath the big divide, all one’s nature +shrank from the monotony of brutal labor. The paydays +came around, and opportunities were made for us to +forget what we had borne, and had still to bear. Then +you laid a restraining hand on me. I could not take +your picture where you could not go. Is all that to count +for nothing?” +</p> +<p>He held out his arms to her. “As to the other question, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +can you get beyond the narrow point of view? We’re in +a big, new country where the old barriers are down. We’re +merely flesh and blood—red blood—and we speak as we +feel. Admitting that I was sorry for you—I am—how +does that tell against me—or you? There’s one thing only +that counts at all—I want you.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was stirred with an emotion that made her +heart beat wildly. He had spoken with a force and passion +that had nearly swept her away with it. The vigor +of the new land throbbed in his voice, and, flinging aside +all cramping restraints and conventions, he had claimed +her as primitive man claimed primitive woman. Her +whole being responded to his love and Gregory faded out +of her mind; but there was, after all, pride in her, and +she could not quite bring herself to look at life from +his point of view. All her prejudices and her traditions +were opposed to it. He had made a mistake when he had +admitted that he was sorry for her. She did not want +his compassion, and she shrank from the thought that she +would marry him—for shelter. It brought to her a +sudden, shameful confusion as she remembered the haste +with which marriages were arranged on the prairie. Then, +as the first unreasoning impulse which had almost compelled +her to yield to him passed away, she reflected that +it was scarcely two months since she had met him in +England. It was intolerable that he should think that she +would be willing to fall into his arms merely because he +had held them out to her. +</p> +<p>“It is a little difficult to get beyond one’s sense of what +is fit,” she said. “You—I must say again—can’t know +anything about me. You have woven fancies about that +photograph, but you must recognize that I’m not the girl +you have created out of your reveries. In all probability +she is wholly unreal, unnatural, visionary.” Agatha contrived +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +to smile, for she was recovering her composure. +“Perhaps it is easy when one has imagination to endow +a person with qualities and graces that could never belong +to them. It must be easy”—though she was unconscious +of it, there was a trace of bitterness in her voice—“because +I know I could do it myself.” +</p> +<p>Again the man held out his arms. “Then,” he said +simply, “won’t you try? If you can only feel sure that +the person has the qualities you admire it is possible that +he could acquire one or two.” +</p> +<p>Agatha drew back. “And I’ve changed ever so much +since that photograph was taken!” she exclaimed with a +catch in her voice. +</p> +<p>Wyllard admitted it. “Yes,” he said, “I recognized +that; you were a little immature then. I know that now—but +all the graciousness and sweetness in you has grown +and ripened. What is more, you have grown just as I +seemed to know you would. I saw that clearly the day we +met beside the stepping-stones. I would have asked you to +marry me in England, only Gregory stood in the way.” +</p> +<p>The color ebbed suddenly out of the girl’s face as she +remembered. +</p> +<p>“Gregory,” she declared in a strained voice, “stands +in the way still. I didn’t send him away altogether. I’m +not sure I made that clear.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard stood very still for a moment or two. +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” he said, “if there’s anything significant +in the fact that you gave me that reason last. He failed +you in some way?” +</p> +<p>“I’m not sure that I haven’t failed him; but I can’t +go into that.” +</p> +<p>Again Wyllard stood silent. Then he turned to her with +a strong restraint in his face. +</p> +<p>“Gregory is a friend of mine,” he said, “there is, at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +least, one very good reason why I should remember it, +but it seems that somehow he hadn’t the wit to keep you. +Well, I can only wait, but when the time seems ripe I +shall ask you again. Until then you have my promise +that I will not say another word that could distress you. +Perhaps I had better take you back to Mrs. Hastings +now.” +</p> +<p>Agatha turned away, and they walked back together +silently. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_THE_SUMMONS' id='XIII_THE_SUMMONS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>THE SUMMONS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Hastings was standing beside her wagon in the +gathering dusk when Agatha and Wyllard joined her. +After Wyllard had helped the two women into the vehicle +she looked down at him severely as she gathered up the +reins. +</p> +<p>“By this time Allen will have had to put the kiddies +to bed,” she said. “Christina, as you might have borne in +mind, goes over to Branstock’s every evening. Anyway, +you’ll drive across and see him about that team as soon +as you can; come to supper.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll try,” promised Wyllard with a certain hesitation. +Mrs. Hastings turned to Agatha as they drove away. +</p> +<p>“Why did he look at you before he answered me?” she +asked, and laughed, for there was just light enough left +to show the color in the girl’s cheek. “Well,” she added, +“I told Allen he was sure to be the first.” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked at her in evident bewilderment, but she +nodded. “Yes,” she said, “of course, I knew it would +come. Everybody knows by now that you have fallen out +with Gregory.” +</p> +<p>“But, as I told you, I haven’t fallen out with him.” +</p> +<p>“You certainly haven’t married him, and if you have +said ‘No’ to Harry Wyllard because you would sooner +take Gregory after all, you’re a singularly unwise young +woman. Anyway, you’ll have to meet Harry when he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +comes to supper. Allen’s fond of a talk with him; I +can’t have him kept away.” +</p> +<p>“I was a little afraid of that,” replied Agatha slowly. +“What makes the situation more difficult is that he told +me he would ask me again.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings was thoughtful for a moment. “In that +case he will in all probability do it; but I don’t think you +need feel diffident about meeting him, especially as you +can’t help it. He’ll wait and say nothing until he considers +it advisable.” +</p> +<p>She changed the subject, and talked about other matters +until they reached the homestead. +</p> +<p>As the weeks went by Agatha found that what Mrs. +Hastings had told her was warranted. Wyllard drove over +every now and then, but she was reassured by his attitude. +He greeted her with the quiet cordiality which had +hitherto characterized him, and it went a long way towards +allaying the embarrassment of which she was conscious at +first. By and by, however, she felt no embarrassment at +all, in spite of the disturbing possibility that he might at +some future time once more adopt the role of lover. +</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, she realized that despite the efforts +she made to think of him tenderly she was drifting further +apart from Gregory. She had two other offers of +marriage before the wheat had shot up a hand’s breadth +above the rich black loam. This was a matter of regret +to her, and, though Mrs. Hastings assured her that the +“boys” would get over it, she was rather shocked to hear +that one of them had shortly afterwards involved himself +in difficulties by creating a disturbance in Winnipeg. +</p> +<p>The wheat, however, was growing tall when, at Mrs. +Hastings’ request, Agatha drove over to Willow Range. +Wyllard was out when they reached the homestead, and +leaving Mrs. Hastings and his housekeeper together, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +girl wandered out into the open air. She went through +the birch bluff and towards the slough, which had almost +dried up now, and it was with a curious stirring of confused +feelings that she remembered what Wyllard had said +to her there. Through all her thoughts ran a regret that +she had not met him four years earlier. +</p> +<p>Regrets, however, were useless, and in order to get rid +of them she walked more briskly up a low rise of ground +where the grass was already turning white again, over the +crest of the hill, and down the side to another hollow. The +prairie rolled in wide undulations as the sea does when the +swell of a distant gale underruns a glassy calm. Agatha +had grown fond of the prairie. Its clear skies and fresh +breezes had brought the color to her cheeks and given her +composure, though there were times when the knowledge +that she was no nearer a decision in regard to Gregory +weighed heavily upon her. She had seen very little of him +and he had not been effusive then. She could not guess +what his feelings might be, but it had been a relief to her +when he had ridden away from the home of the Hastingses. +For a while after she saw him he faded to an unsubstantial, +shadowy figure in the back of her mind. +</p> +<p>On this afternoon when Agatha tried to put out of her +mind the disturbing reflections that came to her as she +walked, the prairie stretched away before her, gleaming in +the sunlight under a vast sweep of cloudless blue. She was +half-way down the long slope when a clash and tinkle +reached her, and she noticed that a cloud of dust hung +about the hollow where there had been another slough, +which evidently had dried up weeks before. As men and +horses were moving amid the dust she supposed that they +were cutting prairie hay, which grows longer in such places +than it does upon the levels. She went on another half-mile, +and then sat down, for she had walked farther than +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +she had intended to go. She could now see the men more +clearly, and, though it was fiercely hot, they were evidently +working at high pressure. Their blue duck clothing +and bare brown arms appeared among the white and +ocher tinting of the grass that seemed charged with brightness, +and the sounds of their activity came up to her. She +could distinguish the clashing tinkle of the mowers, the +crackle of the harsh stems, and the rattle of wagon +wheels. +</p> +<p>A great mound of gleaming grass, overhanging two half-seen +horses, moved out of the slough, and she watched it +draw nearer until she made out Wyllard sitting in the +front of it. She sat still until he pulled the team up close +beside her and looked down with a smile. +</p> +<p>“It’s almost two miles to the homestead. If you could +manage to climb up I could make you a comfortable +place,” he said. +</p> +<p>Agatha held her hands up with one foot upon a spoke +of the wheels as Wyllard leaned down, and next moment +she was lifted upwards. She felt his supporting hand +upon her waist. Then she found herself standing upon a +narrow ledge, clutching at the hay while he tore out several +big armfuls of it and flung it back upon the top of the +load. +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/wheat-146.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 358px; height: 568px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 358px;'> +“THE NEXT MOMENT SHE WAS LIFTED UPWARDS” <i>Page</i> 146 +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>“Now,” he announced, “I guess you’ll find that a snug +enough nest.” +</p> +<p>She sank into it with a sense of physical satisfaction. +The grass was soft and warm; it was scented with the aromatic +odors of wild peppermint, and it yielded like a +downy cushion beneath her limbs. Still, she was just a +little uneasy in mind, for she fancied that she had seen a +sudden sign of feeling in Wyllard’s face when he had +held her for a moment on the ledge of the wagon. She +glanced at him and was reassured. He was looking +straight before him with unwavering eyes, and his face was +set and quiet. Neither of them spoke until the team +moved on. Then he turned to her. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></div> +<p>“You won’t be jolted much,” he assured her. “They’ve +been at it since four o’clock this morning.” +</p> +<p>“That,” replied Agatha, “must mean that you rose at +three.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “As a matter of fact, it was half-past +two. There was no dew last night, and we started +early. I’ve several extra teams this year, and there’s a +good deal of hay to cut. Of course, we have to get it in +the sloughs or any damp place where it’s long. We +don’t sow grass, and we have no meadows like those +there are in England.” +</p> +<p>Agatha understood that he meant to talk about matters +of no particular consequence, as he usually did. She had +noticed a vein of poetic imagination in him, and his idea +that she had been with him through the snow of the lonely +ranges and the gloom of the great forests of the Pacific +slope appealed to her. Since the day when he told her +that he loved her he had spoken only of commonplace subjects. +Sitting close beside him in the hay she decided to +let him talk about his farm, while she listened half-absently. +</p> +<p>“But you have a foreman who could see the teams +turned out, haven’t you?” she asked, going back to the +subject of his early rising. +</p> +<p>“I had, but he left me three or four days ago. It’s a +pity, since I’ve taken up rather more than I can handle +this year.” +</p> +<p>“Then why didn’t you keep him?” +</p> +<p>“Martial was a little mulish, and I’m afraid I’m +troubled with a shortness of temper now and then. We +had a difference of opinion as to the best way to drive the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +mower into the slough, and he didn’t seem to recognize +that he should have deferred to me. Unfortunately, as +the boys were standing by, I had to insist upon his getting +out of the saddle.” +</p> +<p>He had turned a little further towards her, and Agatha +noticed that there was a bruise upon one side of his face. +After what he had just told her the sight of it jarred upon +her, though she would not admit that there was any reason +why it should. She could not deny that on the prairie +a resort to physical force might be warranted by the lack +of any other remedy, but it hurt her to think of him as +descending to an open brawl with one of his men. +</p> +<p>Then it occurred to her that the other man in all probability +had suffered more, and this brought her a certain +sense of satisfaction which she admitted was more or less +barbarous. She had made it clear that Wyllard was nothing +to her, but she could not help watching him as he lay +back against the hay. His wide hat set off his bronzed +face, which, though not exactly handsome, was pleasant +and reassuring. The dusty shirt and old blue trousers accentuated +the long, clean lines of his figure, and she realized +with a faint sense of anger that his mere physical perfection, +his strength and suppleness, stirred her heart. +She recognized a feeling to be judiciously checked. After +all, in spite of her denial of it, she was endowed with power +to love as women close to nature love, with an emotion all-encompassing +and not subject to cold reasoning. +</p> +<p>They talked of trifles of no great consequence, for both +of them were conscious of the necessity for a certain reticence; +and when they reached the homestead Agatha joined +Mrs. Hastings, while Wyllard pitched the hay off the +wagon. He came in to supper presently with about half of +his men, and they all sat down together in the long, barely +furnished room. Wyllard was unusually animated. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +drew Mrs. Hastings into a bout of whimsical badinage, +which was interrupted when a beat of hoofs rose from the +prairie. +</p> +<p>“Somebody’s riding in; I wonder what he wants,” remarked +Wyllard. “I certainly don’t expect anybody.” +</p> +<p>The drumming of hoofs rang more sharply through the +open windows, for the sod was hard and dry. It stopped +suddenly and Agatha saw Wyllard start as a man came +into the room. He was a little, thick-set man with a +seamed and tanned face. He was dressed in rather old +blue serge, and he walked as if he were a seaman. +</p> +<p>The stranger stood still, looking about him, and Wyllard’s +lips set tight. A thrill of apprehension ran through +Agatha, for she felt that she knew what this stranger’s +errand must be. +</p> +<p>Wyllard rose and walked towards the man with outstretched +hand. +</p> +<p>“Sit right down and have some supper. You’ll want it +if you have ridden in from the railroad,” he said. “We’ll +talk afterwards.” +</p> +<p>The stranger nodded. “I’m from Vancouver,” he announced, +“had quite a lot of trouble tracing you.” +</p> +<p>He sat down, and Wyllard, who sent a man out to take +the newcomer’s horse, went back to his seat, but he was +very quiet during the remainder of the meal. When supper +was finished he asked Mrs. Hastings to excuse him, and +leading the stranger into a smaller room, pulled out two +chairs and laid a cigar on the table. +</p> +<p>“Now you can get ahead,” he said laconically. +</p> +<p>The seaman fumbled in his pocket, and taking out a +slip of wood handed it to his companion. +</p> +<p>“That’s what I came to bring you,” he remarked. +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s eyes grew grave as he gazed at the thing. It +was a slip of willow which grows close up to the limits of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +eternal ice, and it bore a rude representation of the British +ensign union down, which signifies “In distress.” Besides +this there were one or two indecipherable words scratched +on it, and three common names rather more clearly cut. +Wyllard recognized every one of them. +</p> +<p>“How did you get it?” he asked, in tense suspense. +</p> +<p>The seaman once more felt in his pocket and took out a +piece of paper cut from a chart. He flattened the paper +out on the table, and it showed, as Wyllard had expected, +a strip of the Kamtchatkan coast. +</p> +<p>“I guess I needn’t tell you where that is,” the seaman +said, as he pointed to the parallel of latitude that ran +across it. “Dunton gave it to me. He was up there late +last season well over on the western side. A northeasterly +gale fell on them, and took most of the foremast out of +their ship. I understand they tried to lash on a boom or +something as a jury mast, but it hadn’t height enough to +set much forward canvas, and that being the case she +wouldn’t bear more than a three-reefed mainsail. Anyway, +they couldn’t do anything with her on the wind, and +as it kept heading them from the east she sidled away +down south through the Kuriles into the Yellow Sea. +They got ice-bound somewhere, which explains why Dunton +fetched Vancouver only a week ago.” +</p> +<p>“But the message?” +</p> +<p>“When they were in the thick of their troubles they +hove to not far off the icy beach, and a Husky came down +on them in some kind of boat.” +</p> +<p>“A Husky?” repeated Wyllard, who knew the seaman +meant an Esquimau. +</p> +<p>“That’s what Dunton called him, but I guess he must +have been a Kamtchadale or a Koriak. Anyway, he +brought this strip of willow, and he had Tom Lewson’s +watch. Dunton traded him something for it. They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +couldn’t make much of what he said except that he’d got +the message from three white men somewhere along the +beach. They couldn’t make out how long ago.” +</p> +<p>“Dunton tried for them?” +</p> +<p>“How could he? His vessel would hardly look at the +wind, and the ice was piling up on the coast close to lee +of him. He hung on a week or two with the floes driving +in all the while, and then it freshened hard and blew him +out.” +</p> +<p>The stranger had told his story, and Wyllard, who rose +with a quick gesture of deep anxiety, stood leaning on his +chairback. His face was grave. +</p> +<p>“That,” he said, “must have been eight or nine months +ago.” +</p> +<p>“It was. They’ve been up there since the night we +couldn’t pick up the boat.” +</p> +<p>“It’s unthinkable,” declared Wyllard. “The thing +can’t be true.” +</p> +<p>The seaman gravely produced a little common metal +watch made in Connecticut, and worth five or six dollars. +Opening it, he pointed to a name scratched inside it. +</p> +<p>“You can’t get over that,” he said simply. +</p> +<p>Wyllard strode up and down the room. When he sat +down again with a clenched hand laid upon the table he +and the seaman looked at each other steadily for a moment +or two. Then the stranger made a significant gesture. +</p> +<p>“You sent them,” he said, “what are you going to do?” +</p> +<p>“I’m going for them.” +</p> +<p>The sailor smiled. “I knew it would be that. You’ll +have to start right away if it’s to be done this year. I’ve +my eye upon a schooner.” +</p> +<p>He lighted a cigar, and settled himself more comfortably +in his chair. “Well,” he answered, “I’m going with +you, but you’ll have to buy my ticket to Vancouver. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +cleaned me out to get here. We’d a difficulty with a blame +gunboat last season, and the boss went back on me. Sealing’s +not what is used to be. Anyway, we can fix the thing +up later. I won’t keep you from your friends.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard left the sailor and though he did not find Mrs. +Hastings immediately, he came upon Agatha sitting outside +the house. She glanced at his face when he sat down beside +her. +</p> +<p>“Ah,” she said, “you have had the summons.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard nodded. “Yes,” he replied, “that man was +the skipper of a schooner I once sailed in. He has come +to tell me where those three men are.” +</p> +<p>He told her what he had heard, and the girl was +conscious of mingled admiration and fear, the fear of losing +him from her everyday life. +</p> +<p>“You are going up there to search for them?” she +asked. “Won’t it cost you a great deal?” +</p> +<p>She saw his face harden as he gazed at the tall wheat, +but his expression was resolute. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he admitted, “that’s a sure thing. Most of my +money is locked up in this crop, and there’s need of constant +watchfulness and effort until the last bushel’s hauled +in to the elevators. It probably sounds egotistical, but now +I’ve got rid of Martial I can’t put my hand on any one as +fit to see the thing through as I am. Still, I have to go +without delay. What else could I do?” +</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t the Provincial Government of British Columbia +or your authorities at Ottawa take the matter +up?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard shook his head. “It wouldn’t be wise to give +them an opportunity. For one thing, they’ve had enough +of sealing cases, and that isn’t astonishing. We’ll say they +applied for the persons of three British subjects who are +supposed to be living somewhere in Russian Asia—and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +for that matter I couldn’t be sure that two of them aren’t +Americans—the Russians naturally inquire what the men +were doing there. The answer is that they were poaching +for the Russians’ seals. Then the affair on the beach +comes up, and there’s a big claim for compensation and +trouble all round. It seems to me the last thing those +men—they’re practically outlaws—would desire would be +to have a Russian expedition sent up on their trail. They +would want to lie hidden until they could somehow get off +again.” +</p> +<p>“But how have they lived up there? The whole land +is frozen, isn’t it, most of the year?” she questioned. +</p> +<p>“They had sealing rifles, and the Koriaks make out farther +north in their roofed-in pits. One can live on seal +and walrus meat and blubber.” +</p> +<p>Agatha shivered. “But they had no tents, nor furs, nor +blankets. It’s horrible to imagine it.” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” agreed Wyllard gravely; “that’s why I’m going +for them.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat still a moment. She could realize the magnitude +of the sacrifice that he was making, and in some degree +the hazards that he must face. It appealed to her +with an overwhelming force, but she was also conscious of +a strange dismay. She turned to him with a flush of +color in her cheeks and her eyes shining. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she said, “it’s splendid.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled. “What could I do?” he said, “I sent +them.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_AGATHA_PROVES_OBDURATE' id='XIV_AGATHA_PROVES_OBDURATE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>AGATHA PROVES OBDURATE</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was two days later when Agatha, coming back from a +stroll across the prairie with the two little girls, found +Mrs. Hastings awaiting her at the homestead door. +</p> +<p>“I’ll take the kiddies. Harry Wyllard’s here, and he +seems quite anxious to see you, though I don’t know what +he wants,” she said. +</p> +<p>She flashed a searching glance at the girl, whose face, +however, remained impassive. It was not often that +Agatha’s composure broke down. +</p> +<p>“Don’t wait,” she added, “you had better go in this +minute. Allen has been arguing with him the last half-hour, +and can’t get any sense into him. It seems to me +the man’s crazy; but he might, perhaps, listen to you.” +</p> +<p>“I think that is scarcely likely,” replied Agatha. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings made a sign of impatience. “Then,” she +rejoined, “it’s a pity. Anyway, if he speaks to you about +his project you can tell him that it’s altogether unreasonable.” +</p> +<p>She drew aside, and Agatha walked into the room in +which she had had her painful interview with Gregory. +Wyllard, who rose as she came in, stood quietly watching +her. +</p> +<p>“Nellie Hastings or her husband has been telling you +what they think of my idea?” he said questioningly. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” Agatha answered. “Their opinion evidently +hasn’t much weight with you.” +</p> +<p>“Haven’t you a message for me?” he asked. “You +were sent to denounce my folly—and you can’t do it. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +you trusted your own impulses you would give me your +benediction instead.” He smiled down at her. +</p> +<p>Agatha, who was troubled with a sense of regret, saw +a suggestive wistfulness in his face. +</p> +<p>“No,” she said slowly, “I can’t denounce your folly, as +they call your decision to go North. For one reason, I +have no right of any kind to force my views on you.” +</p> +<p>“You told Mrs. Hastings that?” +</p> +<p>It seemed an unwarranted question, but the girl admitted +the truth frankly. +</p> +<p>“In one sense I did. I suggested that there was no +reason why you should listen to me.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled again. “Nellie and her husband are +good friends of mine, but sometimes our friends are a little +too officious. Anyway, it doesn’t count. If you had had +that right, you would have told me to go.” +</p> +<p>Agatha felt the warm blood rise to her cheeks. It +seemed to her that he had paid her a great and sincere +compliment in taking it for granted that if she had loved +him she would still have bidden him undertake his perilous +duty. +</p> +<p>“Ah,” she said, “I don’t know. Perhaps I should not +have been brave enough.” +</p> +<p>It was not a judicious answer. She realized that, but +she felt that she must speak with unhesitating candor. +</p> +<p>“After all,” she added, “can you be quite sure that this +is your duty?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard kept his eye on her. “No,” he said, “I can’t. +In fact, when I sit down to think I can see at least a dozen +reasons why it doesn’t concern me. In a case of this kind +that’s always easy. It’s just borne in upon me—I don’t +know how—that I have to go.” +</p> +<p>Agatha crossed to the window and sat down. He leaned +upon a chairback looking at her gravely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p> +<p>“Well,” he continued, “we’ll go on a little further. It +seems better that I should make what’s in my mind quite +clear to you. You see, Captain Dampier and I start in a +week.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was conscious of a shock of dismay. +</p> +<p>“We may be back before the winter, but it’s also quite +likely that we may be ice-nipped before our work is +through, and in that case it would be a year at least before +we reach Vancouver,” he went on steadily after a little +pause. “In fact, there’s a certain probability that all of +us may leave our bones up there. Now, there’s a thing I +must ask you. Is it only a passing trouble that stands between +you and Gregory? Are you still fond of him?” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s heart beat fast. It would have been a relief to +assure herself that she was as fond of Gregory as she had +been, but she could not do it. +</p> +<p>“That is a point on which I cannot answer you,” she +declared in a voice that trembled. +</p> +<p>“We’ll let it go at that. The fact that Gregory sent +me over for you implied a certain obligation. How far +events have cleared me of it I don’t know—and you don’t +seem willing to tell me. But I believe there is now less +cause than there was for me to thrust my own wishes into +the background, and, as I start in another week, the situation +has forced my hand. I can’t wait as I had meant to +do, and it would be a vast relief to know that I had made +your future safer than it is before I go. Will you marry +me at the settlement the morning I start?” +</p> +<p>Half-conscious, as she was, of the unselfishness which +had prompted this suggestion, Agatha faced him in hot +anger. +</p> +<p>“Can you suppose for a moment that I would agree to +that?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“Wait,” he pleaded. “Try to look at it calmly. First +of all, I want you. You know that—though you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +never shown me any tenderness, you can’t doubt it—but I +can’t stay to win your liking. I must go away. As things +stand, your future is uncertain; but as my wife it would, +at least, be safe. However badly the man I leave in charge +of the Range may manage there would be something saved +out of the wreck, and I would like to make that something +yours. As I said, I may be away a year, perhaps eighteen +months, and I may never come back. If I don’t return +the fact that you would bear my name could cause you no +great trouble. It would lay no restraint on you in any +way.” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked him in the eyes, and spoke with quick intensity. +“We can’t contemplate your not coming back. +It’s unthinkable.” +</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Wyllard, still with the grave quietness +she wondered at. “Then I’m not sure that my turning +up again would greatly complicate the situation. There +would, at least, be one way out of the difficulty. You +wouldn’t find your position intolerable if I could make you +fond of me.” +</p> +<p>Agatha broke into a little, high-strung laugh that was +near to weeping. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she exclaimed, “aren’t you taking too much for +granted? Am I really to believe you are making this fantastic +offer seriously? Do you suppose I would marry you—for +your possessions?” +</p> +<p>“My proposition does sound cold-blooded. Perhaps it +is in one way, but you wouldn’t always find me so practical +and calculating. Just now, because my hand is forced, +I am only anticipating things. If I live, you will some +day have to choose between Gregory and me. In that case +he must hold his own if he can.” +</p> +<p>“Against what you have offered me?” she flung the +question at him. +</p> +<p>He looked at her with his face set. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p> +<p>“I expect I deserved that. I wanted to make you safe. +It’s the most pressing difficulty.” +</p> +<p>The resentment was still in the girl’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“So far as I am concerned, you seem to believe it is the +only difficulty. Oh, do you imagine that an offer of the +kind you have made me, made as you have made it, would +lead anyone to love you?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard spoke with a new tenderness. “When I first +saw your picture, and when I saw you afterwards, I loved +your gracious quietness. Now you seem to have lost your +repose and I love you better as you are. There is one +thing, Agatha, that I must ask again, and it’s your duty to +tell me. Are you fonder of Gregory than you feel you +ever could be of me?” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s eyes fell. She felt that she could not look at +him nor could she answer his question honestly as she desired +to answer it. +</p> +<p>“At least I am bound to him until he releases me.” +</p> +<p>“Ah!” responded Wyllard, “that is what I was most +afraid of. All along it hampered me, and in it you have +the reason for my cold, business-like talk to-day. It is another +reason why I should go away.” +</p> +<p>“For fear that you should tempt me from my duty?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s expression changed, and there crept into his +eyes a gleam of the passion that he was smothering. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” he said, “I seem to know that I could make +you break faith with that man. You belong to me. For +three years you have been everywhere with me. Now I +must go away and Gregory will have a clear field, but the +probability is in favor of my coming back again, and then, +if he has failed to make the most of his chance, I’ll enforce +my claim.” +</p> +<p>He seized both her hands, holding them firmly. +</p> +<p>“That is my last word. At least, you will let me think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +that when I go up yonder into the mists and snow I shall +take your good wishes for my success away with me.” +</p> +<p>She lifted her flushed face, and once looked him steadily +in the eyes. +</p> +<p>“My good wishes are yours, most fervently,” she replied. +“It would be intolerable that you should fail.” +</p> +<p>He looked sad as he let her hands fall. “After all,” he +said, “one can do only what one can.” +</p> +<p>He went away without another glance at her. +</p> +<p>Not long afterwards Mrs. Hastings, who was possessed +of a reasonable measure of curiosity, found occasion to +enter the room. +</p> +<p>“You have said something to trouble Harry?” she began. +</p> +<p>“I’m not sure he’s greatly troubled. In any case, I +told him I would not marry him,” Agatha answered. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings gave her a glance of compassionate astonishment. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she said, “he’s mad. Did he tell you that he +means to leave Gregory in charge of Willow Range?” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s face showed her surprise, but Mrs. Hastings +nodded reassuringly. “It’s a fact,” she asserted. “He +asked Gregory to meet him here to save time, and”—she +turned towards the window—“there’s his wagon now.” +</p> +<p>She went to the door, and then turned again. +</p> +<p>“Is there any blood—red blood we will call it—or even +common-sense in you? You could have kept Harry here +if you had wanted to do so?” +</p> +<p>“No,” replied Agatha, “I don’t think I could. I’m +not even sure that, if I’d had the right, I would have done +it. He recognized that.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings looked at her dubiously. “Then,” she +commented, “you have either a somewhat extraordinary +character, or you are in love with him in a way that is beyond +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +most of us. In any case, I can’t help feeling that +you will be sorry some day for what you have done.” +</p> +<p>Next moment the door closed with a bang, and Agatha +was left alone to analyze her sensations during her interview +with Wyllard. She found the task difficult, for her +memory of what had happened was confused and fragmentary. +She had certainly been angry with Wyllard. +It was humiliating that he had evidently taken it for +granted that the greater security she would enjoy as his +wife would have preponderance of weight with her, yet +there was a certain satisfaction in the reflection that to +leave her dependent upon Mrs. Hastings caused him concern. +For another thing, his reserve had been perplexing, +and it was borne in upon her that it would have cost her +a more determined effort to withstand him had he spoken +with fire and passion. +</p> +<p>If the man had been fervently in love with her, why had +he not insisted on that fact? she asked herself. Could it +have been because, with the fantastic generosity of which +he was evidently capable, he had been willing to leave his +friend unhandicapped with an open field? That seemed +too much to expect from any man. Then there was the +other explanation—that he preferred to leave the choice +wholly to her, lest he should tempt her too strongly to break +faith with Gregory. This idea brought the blood to her +face since it suggested that he believed that he had merely +to urge her sufficiently in order to make her yield. There +was, it seemed, no satisfactory explanation at all! The one +fact remained that he had made her a dispassionate offer +of marriage, and had left her to decide. +</p> +<p>Wyllard could not have made the matter very much +clearer. Shrewdly practical, as he was in some respects, +there were times when he acted blindly, merely doing without +reasoning what he felt sub-consciously was right. This +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +had more than once involved him in disaster, but in the +long run the failures of such men often prove better than +the dictates of calculating wisdom. +</p> +<p>Agatha found a momentary relief from her thoughts as +she watched Hawtrey get down from his wagon and approach +the house. The change in him was plainer than it +had ever been. It may have been because she had now a +standard of comparison that it was so apparent. He was +tall and well-favored, and he moved with a jaunty yet not +ungraceful swing; but it seemed to her that his bearing +was merely the result of an empty self-sufficiency. There +was, she felt, no force behind it. Gregory was smiling, +and there was certainly a hint of sensuality in his face +which suggested that the man might sink into a self-indulgent +coarseness. Agatha remembered that she was still +pledged to him and determinedly brushed these thoughts +aside. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey entered a room where, with a paper in his +hand, Wyllard sat awaiting him. +</p> +<p>“I asked you to drive over here because it would save +time,” said Wyllard. “I have to go in to the railroad at +once. Here’s a draft of the scheme I suggested. You had +better tell me if there’s anything you’re not quite satisfied +with.” +</p> +<p>He threw the paper on the table, and Hawtrey took +it up. +</p> +<p>“I’m to farm and generally manage the Range on your +behalf,” said Hawtrey after reading its contents. “My +percentage to be deducted after harvest. I’m empowered +to sell out grain or horses as appears advisable, and to have +the use of teams and implements for my own place when +occasion requires it.” +</p> +<p>He looked up. “I’ve no fault to find with the thing, +Harry. It’s generous.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></p> +<p>“Then you had better sign it, and we’ll get Hastings +to witness it in a minute or two. In the meanwhile there’s +a thing I have to ask you. How do you stand in regard to +Miss Ismay?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey pushed his chair back noisily. “That,” he +said, “is a subject on which I’m naturally not disposed to +give you any information. How does it concern you?” +</p> +<p>“In this way. Believing that your engagement must +be broken off, I asked Miss Ismay to marry me.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey was clearly startled, but in a moment or two +he smiled. +</p> +<p>“Of course,” he said, “she wouldn’t. As a matter of +fact, our engagement isn’t broken off. It’s merely extended.” +</p> +<p>The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment +or two, and there was a curious hardness in Wyllard’s +eyes. Hawtrey spoke again. +</p> +<p>“In view of what you have just told me, why did you +want to put me, of all people, in charge of the Range?” +he asked. +</p> +<p>“I’ll be candid,” answered Wyllard. “For one thing, +you held on when I was slipping off the trestle that day +in British Columbia. For another, you’ll make nothing +of your own holding, and if you run the Range as it ought +to be run it will put a good many dollars into your pocket, +besides relieving me of a big anxiety. If you’re to marry +Miss Ismay, I’d sooner she was made reasonably comfortable.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey looked up with a flush in his face. +</p> +<p>“Harry,” he said, “this is extravagantly generous.” +</p> +<p>“Wait,” returned Wyllard; “there’s a little more to be +said. I can’t be back before the frost, and I may be away +eighteen months. While I am away you will have a clear +field—and you must make the most of it. If you are not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +married when I come back I shall ask Miss Ismay again. +Now”—and he glanced at his comrade steadily—“does +this stand in the way of you’re going on with the arrangement +we have arrived at?” +</p> +<p>There was a rather tense silence for a moment or two, +and then Hawtrey said: +</p> +<p>“No; after all there is no reason why it should do so. +It has no practical bearing upon the other question.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard rose. “Well,” he suggested, “if you will call +Allen Hastings in we’ll get this thing fixed up.” +</p> +<p>The document was duly signed, and a few minutes later +Wyllard drove away. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings contrived to have a few words with Hawtrey +before he left the house. +</p> +<p>“I’ve no doubt that Harry took you into his confidence +on a certain point,” she remarked. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” admitted Hawtrey, “he did. I was a little +astonished, besides feeling rather sorry for him. There +is, however, reason to believe that he’ll soon get over it.” +</p> +<p>“You feel sure of that?” Mrs. Hastings smiled. +</p> +<p>“Isn’t it evident? If he had cared much about her he +certainly wouldn’t have gone away.” +</p> +<p>“You mean you wouldn’t?” +</p> +<p>“No,” declared Hawtrey, “there’s no doubt of that.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings smiled again. “Well,” she commented, +“I would like to think you were right about Harry; it +would be a relief to me.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey presently drove away, and soon after he left +the homestead Agatha approached Mrs. Hastings. +</p> +<p>“There’s something I must ask you,” she said. “Has +Gregory consented to take charge of Wyllard’s farm?” +</p> +<p>“He has,” answered Mrs. Hastings in her dryest tone. +</p> +<p>There was a flash in Agatha’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she said, “it’s almost unendurable.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p> +<p>Agatha saw Wyllard only once again, and that was when +he called early one morning. He got down from the +wagon where Dampier sat, and shook hands with her and +Allen and Mrs. Hastings. Few words were spoken, and +she could not remember what she said, but when he swung +himself up again and the wagon jolted away into the white +prairie she went back to the house with a feeling of loss +and depression. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_THE_BEACH' id='XV_THE_BEACH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>THE BEACH</h3> +</div> + +<p>For a fortnight after they reached Vancouver Wyllard and +Dampier were very busy. They had various difficulties to +contend with, for while they would have preferred to slip +away to sea as quietly as possible a British vessel’s movements +are fenced about with many formalities, and they +did not wish to ship a white man who could be dispensed +with. Wyllard knew there were sailors and sealers in Vancouver +and down Puget Sound who would have gone with +him, but there was a certain probability of their discussing +their exploits afterwards in the saloons ashore, which +was about the last thing that he desired. It was essential +that he should avoid notoriety as much as possible. +</p> +<p>He had further trouble about obtaining provisions and +general necessaries, for considerably more attention than +the free-lance sealers cared about was being bestowed upon +the North, and he did not desire to arouse the curiosity of +the dealers as to why he was filling his lazaret up with +Arctic stores. He obviated that difficulty by dividing his +orders among all of them, and buying as little as possible. +Dampier proved an adept at the difficult business, and +eventually the schooner <i>Selache</i>, painted a pale green, +crept out from the Narrows, at dusk one evening, under +all plain sail, with her big main-boom making at least a +fathom beyond her taffrail. On board were Wyllard, +Dampier, and two other white men. A week later the +<i>Selache</i> sailed into a deep, rock-walled inlet on the western +coast of Vancouver Island. At the settlement the +storekeeper made no difficulty about selling Wyllard all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +his flour and canned goods at higher figures than there +was any probability of obtaining from the local ranchers. +</p> +<p>The <i>Selache</i> slid down the inlet again, and lay for several +days in a forest-shrouded arm near the mouth of it. +When she once more dropped her anchor off a Siwash +rancherie far up on the wild west coast, she was painted a +dingy gray, and her sawn-off boom just topped her stern. +One does not want a great main-boom in the northern seas, +and a big mainsail needs men to handle it. Wyllard, however, +shipped several sea-bred Indians who had made perilous +voyages on the trail of the seal and halibut in open +canoes. All of them had also sailed in sealing schooners. +Their comrades sold him furs, and filled part of the hold +with redwood billets and bark for the stove, for he had +not considered it advisable to load too much Wellington +coal. +</p> +<p>Wyllard pushed out into the waste Pacific, and once +when a beautiful big white mail boat reeled by him, driving +with streaming bows into an easterly gale, he sent back +a message to his friends upon the prairie. It duly reached +them, for three weeks afterward Allen Hastings, opening +<i>The Colonist</i>, which he had ordered from Victoria as soon +as Wyllard sailed, read to his wife and Agatha a paragraph +in the shipping news: +</p> +<p>“<i>Empress of India</i>, from Yokohama, reports having +passed small gray British schooner, flying——” There +followed several code letters, the latitude and longitude, +and a line apparently by the water-front reporter: “No +schooner belonging to this city allotted the signal in question.” +</p> +<p>Hastings smiled as he laid down the paper. “No,” he +observed, “that signal is Wyllard’s private code. Agatha, +won’t you reach me down my map of the Pacific? It’s +just behind you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p> +<p>As he looked around he noticed the significant expression +on his wife’s face, for the girl already had turned towards +the shelf where he kept the lately purchased map. +</p> +<p>The easterly gale that started did not last, for the wind +came out of the west and north, and sank to foggy calms +when it did not blow wickedly hard. This meant that the +<i>Selache’s</i> course was all to windward, and though they +drove her unmercifully under reefed book-foresail, main +trysail, and a streaming jib or two, with the brine going +over her, she had made little headway when each arduous +day was done. They were drenched to the skin continuously, +and lashed by stinging spray. Cooking except of +the crudest kind was out of the question, and sleep would +have been impossible to any but worn-out sailors. The +little crew was often aroused in the blackness of the night +to haul down a burst jib, to get in another reef, or to +crawl out on a plunging bowsprit washed by icy seas as +the schooner lay with her lee rail under. Glad as they +were of the respite it was even more trying to lie rolling +wildly on the big smooth waves that hove out of the windless +calm, while everything in the vessel banged to and fro. +When the breeze came screaming through the fog or rain +they sprang to make sail again. +</p> +<p>Fate seemed to oppose them, as it was certain that, if +their purpose was suspected, the hand of every white man +whom they might come across would be against them. +But they held on over leagues of empty ocean. +</p> +<p>The season wore away, and at last the wind freshened +easterly, and they ran for a week under boom-foresail and +a jib, with the big gray combers curling as they foamed by +high above her rail. Then the wind fell, and Dampier, +who got an observation, armed his deep-sea lead, and, finding +shells and shoal water, went aft to talk to Wyllard +with the strip of Dunton’s chart. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>Wyllard, who was clad in oilskins, stood by the wheel. +His face was tanned and roughened by cold and stinging +brine. There was an open sore upon one of his elbows, +and both his wrists were raw. Forward, a white man and +two Siwash were standing about the windlass, and when +the bows went up a dreary stretch of slate-gray sea opened +beyond them, beneath the dripping jibs. The <i>Selache</i> was +carrying sail, and lurching over the steep swell at some +four knots an hour. +</p> +<p>Dampier stopped near the wheel, and glanced at Wyllard’s +oilskins. +</p> +<p>“You’ll have to take them off. It’s stuffed boots and +those Indian seal-gut things or furs from now on,” he +said. “That leather cuff’s chewing up your hand.” +</p> +<p>“We’ll cut that out,” replied Wyllard; “it’s not to the +point. Can’t you get on?” +</p> +<p>Dampier grinned. “We’re on soundings, and they and +Dunton’s longitude ’most agree. With this wind we should +pick the beach up in the next two days. Next question is, +where were those men?” +</p> +<p>“Where are they?” corrected Wyllard. +</p> +<p>“If they’ve pushed on it’s probably a different thing, +though, if they’d food yonder, I don’t quite see why they’d +want to push on anywhere. It wouldn’t be south, anyway. +They’d run up against the Russians there.” +</p> +<p>“We’ve decided that already.” +</p> +<p>“I’m admitting it,” said the skipper. “There’s the +other choice that they’ve gone up north. It’s narrower +across to Alaska there, and it’s quite likely they might +have a notion of looking out for one of the steam whalers. +The Koriaks up yonder will have boats of some kind. If +the boats are skin ones like those the Huskies have they +might sledge them on the ice.” +</p> +<p>It was a suggestion that had been made several times +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +before, but both the men realized that there was in all +probability very little to warrant it. Wyllard had wasted +no time endeavoring to learn what was known about the +desolation on the western shore of the Behring Sea. He +had bought a schooner and set out at once. It appeared +almost impossible to him that any three men could haul +the skin boats and supplies they would need far over hummocky +ice. +</p> +<p>“The point is that we’ll have to fix on some course in +the next few days,” added Dampier. “Say we run in to +make inquiries”—a gleam of grim amusement crept into +his eyes—“what are we going to find? A beach with a +roaring surf on it, and if we get a boat through, a desolate, +half-frozen swamp behind it. It’s quite likely there +are people in the country, Koriaks or Kamtchadales, but, +if there are, they’ll probably move up and down after what +they get to eat like the Huskies do, and we can’t hang on +and wait for them. ’Most any time next month we’ll have +the ice closing in.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made no reply for another minute, and, as he +stood with hands clenched on the wheel, a puff of bitter +spray splashed upon his oilskins. They had been over it all +often before, weighing conjecture after conjecture, and had +found nothing in any that might serve to guide them. +Now, when winter was close at hand, they had leagues of +surf-swept beach to search for three men who might have +perished twelve months earlier. +</p> +<p>“We’ll stand in until we pick up the beach,” he said at +length. “Then if there’s no sign of them we’ll push north +as long as we can find open water. Now if you’ll call +Charly I’ll let up at the wheel.” +</p> +<p>Another white man walked aft, and Wyllard, entering +the little stern cabin, the top of which rose several feet +above the deck, took off his wet oilskins and crawled, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +dressed as he was, into his bunk. Evening was closing in, +and for a while he lay blinking at the swinging lamp, and +wondering what the end of the search would be. +</p> +<p>The <i>Selache</i> was a little fore and aft schooner of some +ninety-odd tons, wholly unprotected against ice-chafe or +nip, and he knew that prudence dictated their driving her +south under every rag of canvas now. There was, however, +the possibility of finding some sheltered inlet where +she could lie out the winter, frozen in, and he had blind +confidence in his crew. The white men were sealers who +had borne the lash of snow-laden gales, the wash of icy +seas, and tremendous labor at the oar, and the Indians +had been born to an unending struggle with the waters. +All of them had many times looked the King of Terrors +squarely in the face. As an encouraging aid to strenuous +effort they had been promised a tempting bonus if the <i>Selache</i> +returned home successful. +</p> +<p>While Wyllard pondered upon these things he went to +sleep and slept soundly, though Dampier expected to raise +the beach some time next morning. The skipper’s expectation +proved to be warranted, and, when Wyllard turned +out, the stretch of shore lay before them, a dingy smear +on a slate-green sea that was cut off from it by a wavy line +of vivid whiteness, which he knew to be a fringe of spouting +surf. It had cost Wyllard more than he cared to contemplate +to reach that beach, and now there was nothing in +the dreary spectacle that could excite any feeling, except a +shrinking from the physical effort of the search. There +was little light in the heavy sky or on the sullen heave of +sea; the air was raw, the schooner’s decks were sloppy, and +the vessel rolled viciously as she crept shorewards with her +mainsail peak eased down. What wind there was blew +dead on-shore, which was not as the skipper would have +had it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></p> +<p>Wyllard heard the splash of the lead as he and the white +man, Charly, ate their breakfast in the little stern cabin. +There was a clatter of blocks, and on going out on deck he +found the men swinging a boat over. With Charly and +two of the Indians he dropped into the boat, and Dampier, +who had hove the schooner to, looked down on them over +the vessel’s rail. +</p> +<p>“If you knock the bottom out of her put a jacket on an +oar, and I’ll try to bring you off,” he said, pointing toward +the boat. “If you don’t signal I’ll stand off and on with +a thimble-headed topsail over the mainsail. You’ll start +back right away if you see us haul it down. When she +won’t stand that there’ll be more surf than you’ll have any +use for with the wind dead on the beach.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made a sign of comprehension, and they slid +away on the back of a long sea. Waves rolled up behind +them, cutting off the schooner’s hull so that only her gray +canvas showed above dim slopes of water. The beach rose +fast before them. It looked forbidding with the spray-haze +drifting over it, and the long wash of the Pacific weltering +among its hammered stones. When the men drew +a little nearer Wyllard stood up with the big sculling oar +in his hand. There was no point to offer shelter, and in +only one place could he see a strip of surf-lapped sand. +</p> +<p>“It’s a little softer than the boulders, anyway; we’ll try +it there,” he ordered. +</p> +<p>The oars dipped again, and in another minute the sea +that came up behind them hove them high and broke into +a little spout of foam. The next wave had a hissing +crest, part of which splashed on board, and, like a toboggan +down an icy slide, the boat went shoreward on the +shoulders of the third. To keep her straight while the +water seethed about them was all that they could do. For +a moment their hearts were in their mouths when the wave +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +left them to sink with a dizzy swing into the hollow of the +sea. +</p> +<p>They pulled desperately as another white-topped ridge +came on astern, and they went up with it amid a chaotic +frothing and splashing of spray. After that there was a +shock and a crash. They sprang out into the knee-deep +water and held fast to the boat while the foam boiled into +her. Before the next sea came in they had run the boat +up beyond its reach, and they discovered that there was +not much the matter with her when they hove her over. +Wyllard looked back at the tumbling surf. +</p> +<p>“Dampier was right about that topsail; it won’t be quite +so easy getting off,” he declared. “You’ll stand by, +Charly, and watch the schooner. If the surf gets steeper +you can make some sign. I’ll leave one of the Siwash on +the rise yonder.” +</p> +<p>Then he walked up the beach. On the crest of the low +rise a mile or two behind it, he stopped a while, gazing out +at what seemed to be an empty desolation. There were +willows in the hollow beneath him, and upon the slope a +few little stunted trees, which resembled the juniper that +he had seen among the ranges of British Columbia, but he +could see no sign of any kind of life. What was more portentous, +the mossy sod he stood upon was frozen, and there +were stretches of snow among the straggling firs upon a +higher ridge. Inland, the little breeze seemed to have +fallen dead away, and there was an oppressive silence +which the rumble of the surf accentuated. +</p> +<p>Wyllard left one of the Indians on the hill and going on +with the other scrambled through a half-frozen swamp in +the hollow; but when they came back hours afterwards as +the narrow horizon was drawing further in, they had found +nothing to show that any man had ever entered that grim, +silent land. The surf seemed a little smoother, and they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +reeled out through it with only a few inches of very cold +water splashing about their boots, and pulled across a long +stretch of darkening sea toward the rolling schooner. +</p> +<p>Wyllard was weary and depressed, but it was not until +he sat in the stern cabin with its cheerful twinkling stove +and swinging lamp that he understood how he had shrunk +from that forbidding wilderness. His consultation with +Dampier, who came in by and by, was brief. +</p> +<p>“We’ll head north for a couple of days, and try again,” +he said. +</p> +<p>He crawled into his berth early, and it was some time +after midnight when he was awakened by being rudely +flung out of it. That fact, and the slant of deck and +sounds above, suggested that the schooner had been struck +down by a sudden gale. He had grown more or less accustomed +to such occurrences and to sleeping fully dressed, +and in another moment or two he was out of the deck-house. +A sharp wind drove stinging flakes of snow into +his face. It was very dark, but he guessed that the schooner’s +rail was in the sea, which was washing the decks, and +that some of the crew were struggling to get the mainsail +off her. A man whom he supposed to be Charly ran into +him. +</p> +<p>“Better come for’ard. Got to haul outer jib down before +it blows away!” he shouted. +</p> +<p>Up to his knees in water, Wyllard staggered after him +and made out by the mad banging that some one had already +cast the peak of the boom-foresail loose. He reached +the windlass, and clutched it, as a sea that took him to the +waist frothed in over the weather rail. The bows lurched +out of it viciously, hurling another icy flood back on him, +and he could see a dim white chaos of frothing water about +and beneath them. Above rose the black wedge of the jibs. +</p> +<p>He did not want to get out along the bowsprit to stop +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +one of them down, but there are many things flesh and +blood shrink from which must be faced at sea. He made +out that a Siwash was fumbling at the down-haul made +fast near his side, and when the man’s shadowy figure rose +up against the whiteness of the foam he made a jump forward. +Then he was on the bowsprit, lying upon it while +he felt for the foot-rope slung beneath. He found it, and +was cautiously lowering himself when the man in front of +him called out harshly, and he saw a white sea range up +ahead. It broke short over with a rush and roar, and he +clung with hands and feet for his life as the schooner’s +dipping bows rammed the seething mass. +</p> +<p>The vessel went into it to the windlass. Wyllard was +smothered in an icy flood that seemed bent on wrenching +him from his hold, but that was only for a moment or two, +and then, streaming with water, he was swung high above +the sea again. It was bad enough merely to hold on, but +that was a very small share of his task, for the big black +sail that cut the higher darkness came rattling down its +stay and fell upon him and his companion. As it dropped +the wind took hold of the folds of it and buffeted them +cruelly. As he clutched at the canvas it seemed to him +incredible that he had not already been flung off headlong +from the reeling spar. Still, that banging, thrashing canvas +must be mastered somehow, though it was snow-soaked +and almost unyielding, and with bleeding hands he clawed +at it furiously while twice the bowsprit raked a sea and +dipped him waist-deep into the water. At last, the other +man flung him the end of the gasket, and they worked +back carefully, leaving the sail lashed down, and scrambled +aft to help the others who were making the big main-boom +fast. When this was done Wyllard fell against +Dampier and clutched at him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p> +<p>“How’s the wind?” he roared. +</p> +<p>“Northeast,” answered the skipper. +</p> +<p>They could scarcely hear each other, though the schooner +was lurching over it more easily now with shortened canvas, +and Wyllard made Dampier understand that he wished +to speak to him only by thrusting him towards the deck-house +door. They went in together, and stood clutching at +the table with the lamplight on their tense, wet faces and +the brine that ran from them making pools upon the deck. +</p> +<p>“The wind has hauled round,” said the skipper, “the +wrong way.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made a savage gesture. “We’ve had it from +the last quarter we wanted ever since we sailed, and we +sailed nearly three months too late. We’re too close in to +the beach for you to heave her to?” +</p> +<p>“A sure thing,” agreed Dampier. “I was driving her +to work off it with the sea getting up when the breeze burst +on us. She put her rail right under, and we had to let +go ’most everything before she’d pick it up. She’s pointing +somewhere north, jammed right up on the starboard tack +just now, but I can’t stand on.” +</p> +<p>This was evident to Wyllard, and he closed one hand +tight. He wanted to stand on as long as possible before +the ice closed in, but he realized that to do so would put +the schooner ashore. +</p> +<p>“Well?” he questioned sharply. +</p> +<p>Dampier made a grimace. “I’m going out to heave her +round. If we’d any sense in us we’d square off the boom +then, and leg it away across the Pacific for Vancouver.” +</p> +<p>“In that case,” observed Wyllard, “somebody would +lose his bonus.” +</p> +<p>The skipper swung around on him with a flash in his +eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +“The bonus!” he repeated. “Who was it came for +you with two dollars in his pocket after he’d bought his +ticket from Vancouver?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled at him. “If you took that up the wrong +way I’m sorry. She ought to work off on the port track, +and when we’ve open water to leeward you can heave her +to. When it moderates we can pick up the beach again.” +</p> +<p>“That’s just what I mean to do.” +</p> +<p>Dampier went out on deck, while Wyllard, flinging off +his dripping clothing, crawled into his bunk and went +quietly to sleep. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_THE_FIRST_ICE' id='XVI_THE_FIRST_ICE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>THE FIRST ICE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Before they hove to the <i>Selache</i>, daylight broke on a +frothing sea, across which scudded wisps of smoke-adrift +and thin showers of snow. With two little wet rags of +canvas set the schooner lay almost head on to the big +combers. Having little way upon her, she lurched over instead +of ramming the waves, and though now and then one +curled on board across her rail it was not often that there +was much heavy water upon her slanted deck. +</p> +<p>All around the narrow circle a leaden sky met the sea. +It was bitterly cold, and the spray stung the skin like half-spent +pellets from a gun. There was only one man, in +turn, exposed to the weather, and he had little to do but +brace himself against the savage buffeting of the wind as +he clutched the wheel. The <i>Selache</i>, for the most part, +steered herself, lifting buoyantly while the froth came +sluicing aft from her tilted bows, falling off a little with +a vicious leeward roll when a comber bigger than usual +smote her to weather, and coming up again streaming to +meet the next. Sometimes she forged ahead in what is +called at sea, by courtesy, a “smooth,” and all the time +shroud and stay to weather gave out tumultuous harmonies, +and the slack of every rope to leeward blew out in +unyielding curves. +</p> +<p>Three of the white men lay sleeping or smoking in the +little cabin, which was partly raised above and partly sunk +beneath the after-deck. It was a reasonably strong structure, +but it worked, and sweated, as they sat at sea, and +the heat of the stove had further opened up the seams in it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +Moisture dripped from the beams overhead, moisture +trickled up and down the slanting deck, there were great +globules of water on the bulk-heading, and everything, including +the men’s clothes and blankets, was wet. The men +lay in their bunks from necessity, because it was a laborious +matter to sit. They said very little since it was difficult +to hear anything amid the cataclysm of elemental +sound. It became at length almost a relief to turn out +into inky darkness or misty daylight, dimmed by flying +spray, to take a turn at the jarring wheel. +</p> +<p>For three days the bad weather continued, and then, +when the gale broke and a little pale sunshine streamed +down on the tumbling sea, changing the gray combers to +flashing white and green, the skipper gave her a double-reefed +mainsail, part of the boom-foresail, and a jib or +two, and thrashed her slowly back to the northward on +the starboard tack. More than one of the men glanced +over the taffrail longingly as the schooner gathered way. +She was fast, and with a little driving and that breeze over +her quarter she would bear them south toward warmth and +ease at some two hundred miles a day, while the way they +were going it would be a fight for every fathom with bitter, +charging seas, and there lay ahead of them only cold and +peril and toil incredible. +</p> +<p>There are times at sea when human nature revolts from +the strain that the overtaxed body must bear, the leaden +weariness of worn-out limbs, and the subconscious effort +to retain warmth and vitality in spite of the ceaseless lashing +of the icy gale. Then, as aching muscles grow lax, +the nervous tension becomes more insupportable, unless, +indeed, utter weariness breeds indifference to the personal +peril each time the decks are swept by a frothing flood, or +a slippery spar must be clung to with frost-numbed and +often bleeding hands. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +The men on the <i>Selache</i> knew this, and it was to their +credit that they obeyed when Dampier gave the word to +put the helm up and trim the sheets over. Wyllard, however, +stood a little apart with a hard-set face, and he +looked forward over the plunging bows, for he was troubled +by a sense of responsibility such as he had not felt since +he had, one night several years before, asked for volunteers. +He realized that an account of these men’s lives +might be demanded from him. +</p> +<p>It was a fortnight later, and they had twice made a perilous +landing without finding any sign of life on or behind +the hammered beach, when they ran into the first of the +ice. The gray day was near its end. The long heave +faintly twinkling here and there, ran sluggishly after them. +When creeping through a belt of haze they came into sight +of several blurrs of grayish white that swung with the dim, +green swell. The <i>Selache</i> was slowly lurching over it with +everything aloft to the topsails then, and Dampier +glanced at the ice with a feeling of deep anxiety. +</p> +<p>“Earlier than I expected,” he commented. “Anyway, +it’s a sure thing there’s plenty more where that came +from.” +</p> +<p>“Big patch away to starboard!” cried a man in the +foremast shrouds. +</p> +<p>Dampier turned to Wyllard. “What are you going to +do?” +</p> +<p>“What’s most advisable?” +</p> +<p>The skipper looked grave. “Well,” he said, “that’s +quite simple. Get out of this, and head her south just as +soon as we can, but I guess that’s not quite what you +mean.” +</p> +<p>“No,” admitted Wyllard. “I meant for the next few +hours or so. In a general way, we’re still pushing on.” +</p> +<p>“I’m not worrying much about pushing her through. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +That ice is light and scattered, and as she’s going it won’t +hurt her much if she plugs some in the dark. It’s what +we’re going to do the next two weeks that I’m not sure +about. If there’s ice we mayn’t fetch the creek, where +we’d figured on laying her up. It’s still most a hundred +miles to the north of us. The other inlet I’d fixed on is +way further south.” +</p> +<p>This brought them back to the difficulty with which they +had grappled at many a council. The men for whom they +searched might have gone either north or south, or they +might have gone inland, if, indeed, any of them survived. +</p> +<p>“If we only knew how they had headed,” said Wyllard +quietly. “Still, right or not, I’m for pushing on.” +</p> +<p>Then Charly, who held the wheel, broke in. +</p> +<p>“I guess it’s north,” he assented. “They’d have no +use for fetching up among the Russians, and there’s nobody +else until you get to Japan. No white men, anyway. +Besides, from the Behring Sea to the Kuriles is quite a +long way.” +</p> +<p>“If you were dumped down ashore there, which way +would you go?” Dampier asked. +</p> +<p>“If I’d a wallet full of papers certifying me as a harmless +traveler, it would be south just as hard as I could hit +the trail. Guess I’d strike somebody out prospecting, or +surveying, and they’d set me along to the Kuriles. Still, +if I’d been sealing, I wouldn’t head that way. No, sir. +That’s dead sure.” +</p> +<p>There was a reason for this certainty, right or wrong, in +the minds of the sealers. How many of the skins they +brought home were obtained in open water where they +could fish without molestation they alone knew; but they +were regarded in certain quarters as poachers and outlaws, +who deserved no mercy. They had their differences with +the Americans who owned the Pribilofs. It was admitted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +that the Americans had bought the islands, and might reasonably +be considered to have some claim upon the seals +which frequented them. The free-lances bore their execrations +and reprisals more or less resignedly, though that +did not prevent them from occasionally exchanging compliments +with oar butts or sealing clubs. But the Muscovite +was a grim, mysterious figure they feared and hated. +</p> +<p>“Then you’d have tried up north?” Wyllard suggested. +</p> +<p>“Sure,” answered the helmsman. “If I’d a boat and a +rifle, and it was summer, I’d have pushed across for Alaska. +You can eat birds and walrus, and a man might eat a fur-seal +if he’d had nothing else for a week, though I’ve struck +nothing that has more smell than the holluschickie blubber. +If it was winter, I’d have tried the ice. The Huskies +make out on it for weeks together, and quite a few of the +steam whaler men have trailed an odd hundred or two +miles over it one time or another. They hadn’t tents and +dog-teams either.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s face grew anxious. He had naturally considered +both courses, and had decided that they were out +of the question. Seas do not freeze up solid, and that +three men should transport a boat, supposing that they had +one, over leagues of ice appeared impossible. An attempt +to cross the narrow sea, which is either wrapped in mist or +swept by sudden gales, in any open craft would clearly result +only in disaster, but, admitting that, he felt that, had +he been in those men’s place, he would have headed north. +There was one question which had all along remained unanswered, +and that was how they had reached the coast +from which they had sent their message. +</p> +<p>“Anyway,” he said, after a long pause, “we’ll stand on, +and run into the creek we’ve fixed on, if it’s necessary.” +</p> +<p>Dusk had closed down on them, and it had grown perceptibly +colder. The haze crystallized on the rigging, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +rail was white with rime, and the deck grew slippery, but +they left everything on the <i>Selache</i> to the topsails, and she +crept on erratically through the darkness, avoiding the +faint spectral glimmer of the scattered ice. The breeze +abeam propelled her with gently leaning canvas at some +four knots to the hour, and now and then Wyllard, who +hung about the deck that night, fancied he could hear a +thin, sharp crackle beneath the slowly lifting bows. +</p> +<p>Next day the haze thickened, and there seemed to be +more ice about, but the breeze was fresher, and there was, +at least, no skin upon the ruffled sea. They took off the +topsails, and proceeded cautiously, with two men with logger’s +pikepoles forward, and another in the eyes of the foremast +rigging. They struck nothing, fortunately, and when +night came the <i>Selache</i> lay rolling in a heavy, portentous +calm. Dampier and one or two of the men declared their +certainty that there was ice near them, but, at least, they +could not see it, though there was now no doubt about the +crackling beneath the schooner’s side. It was an anxious +night for most of the crew, but a breeze that drove the +haze aside got up with the sun, and Dampier expected to +reach the creek before darkness fell. He might have succeeded +but for the glistening streak on the horizon, which +presently crept in on them, and resolved itself into detached +gray-white masses, with openings of various sizes in and +out between them. The breeze was freshening, and the +<i>Selache</i> was going through it at some six knots, when +Dampier came aft to Wyllard, who was standing at the +wheel. There was a moderately wide opening in the floating +barrier close ahead of him. The rest of the crew stood +silent watching the skipper, for they were by this time +more or less acquainted with Wyllard’s temperament. +</p> +<p>“You can’t get through that,” said Dampier, pointing +to the ice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>Wyllard looked at him sourly, and the white men, at +least, understood what he was feeling. So far, he had had +everything against him—calm, and fog, and sudden gale—and +now, when he was almost within sight of the end of +the first stage of his journey, they had met the ice. +</p> +<p>“You’re sure of that?” he questioned. +</p> +<p>Dampier smiled. “It would cost too much, or I’d let +you try.” He called to the man perched high in the foremost +shrouds, and the answer came down: “Packed right +solid a couple of miles ahead.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard lifted one hand, and let it suddenly fall again. +</p> +<p>“Lee, oh! We’ll have her round,” he said, and spun +the wheel. +</p> +<p>The men breathed more easily as they jumped for the +sheets, and with a great banging and thrashing of sailcloth +the vessel shot up to windward, and turned as on a pivot. +As the schooner gathered way on the other tack, the men +glanced at Wyllard, for the <i>Selache’s</i> bows were pointing +to the southeast again, and they felt that was not the way +he was going. +</p> +<p>Wyllard turned to Dampier with a gesture of impatience. +</p> +<p>“Baulked again!” he said. “It would have been a relief +to have rammed her in. With this breeze we’d have +picked that creek up in the next six hours.” +</p> +<p>“Sure!” replied Dampier, who glanced at the swirling +wake. +</p> +<p>“Then, if we can’t get through the ice we can work the +schooner round. Stand by to flatten all sheets in, boys.” +</p> +<p>They obeyed orders cheerfully, though they knew it +meant a thrash to windward along the perilous edge of the +ice. Soon the windlass was caked with glistening ice, and +long spikes of it hung from her rail, while the slippery +crystals gathered thick on deck. Lumps and floes of ice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +detached themselves from the parent mass, and sailed out +to meet the vessel, crashing on one another, while it +seemed to the men who watched him that Wyllard tried +how closely he could shave them before he ran the <i>Selache</i> +off with a vicious drag at the wheel. None of them, however, +cared to utter a remonstrance. +</p> +<p>They brought the schooner around when she had +stretched out on the one tack a couple of miles, and, standing +in again close-hauled, found the ice thicker than ever. +Then she came around once more, and, until the early dusk +fell, Wyllard stood at the jarring helm or high up in the +forward shrouds. +</p> +<p>“We can’t work along the edge in the dark,” he said +to Dampier. +</p> +<p>“Well,” answered the skipper dryly, “it wouldn’t be +wise. We could stand on as she’s lying until half through +the night, and then come round and pick up the ice again +a little before sun-up.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made a sign of acquiescence. “Then,” he said, +“don’t call me until you’re in sight of it. A day of this +kind takes it out of one.” +</p> +<p>He moved aft heavily toward the deck-house, and Dampier +watched him with a smile of comprehension, for he +was a man who had in his time made many fruitless efforts, +and bravely faced defeat. After all, it is possible +that when the final reckoning comes some failures will +count. +</p> +<p>For several hours the <i>Selache</i> stretched out close-hauled +into what they supposed to be open water, and they certainly +saw no ice. They hove her to, and when the wind +fell light brought her round and crept back slowly upon +the opposite tack. Wyllard had gone to sleep after his +day of anxious work, and daylight was just breaking when +he next went out on deck. There was scarcely a breath of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +wind and the heavy calm seemed portentous and unnatural. +The schooner lay lurching on a sluggish swell, with +the frost-wool thick on her rigging, and a belt of haze +ahead of her. The ice glimmered in the growing light, +but in one or two places stretches of blue-gray water +seemed to penetrate it, and Dampier, who strode aft when +he saw Wyllard, said he believed that there must be an +opening somewhere. +</p> +<p>“By the thickness of it, that ice has formed some time, +and as we’ve seen nothing but a skin it must have come +from further north,” he added. “It gathered up under a +point or in a bay most likely, until a shift of wind broke +it out, and the stream or breeze sent it down this way. That +seems to indicate that there can’t be a great deal of it, +but a few days’ calm and frost would freeze it solid.” +</p> +<p>“Well?” Wyllard returned impatiently. +</p> +<p>“It lies between us and the inlet, and it’s quite clear +that we can’t stay where we are. Once we got nipped, +there’d probably be an end of her. We must get into that +inlet at once or make for the other further south.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard shook his head. “It all leads back to the same +point. We must get through the ice. The one question +is—how is it to be done?” +</p> +<p>“With a working breeze I’d stand into the biggest opening, +but as there’s none we’ll wait until it clears a little, +and then send a boat in. The sun may bring the wind.” +</p> +<p>They had breakfast while they waited, but the wind did +not come, and it was several hours later when a pale coppery +disc became visible and the haze grew thinner. Then +they swung a boat out hastily, for it would not be very +long before the light died away again. Two white men +and an Indian dropped into the boat and they pulled +across half a mile of sluggishly heaving water, crept up an +opening, and presently vanished among the ice. Soon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +afterward the low sun went out, and wisps of ragged cloud +crept up from the westward, while smears of vapor +blurred the horizon, and the swell grew steeper. There +was no wind at all, but blocks and canvas banged and +thrashed furiously at every roll, until they lowered the +mainsail and lashed its heavy boom to the big iron crutch +astern. The boat remained invisible, but its crew had +been given instructions to push on as far as possible if +they found clear water, and Dampier, who did not seem +uneasy about the men, paced up and down the deck while +the afternoon wore away. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_DEFEAT' id='XVII_DEFEAT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>DEFEAT</h3> +</div> + +<p>A gray dimness was creeping in upon the schooner when +a bitter breeze sprang tip from the westward, and Dampier +bade the crew get the mainsail on to the <i>Selache</i>. +</p> +<p>“I don’t like the look of the weather, and I’m beginning +to feel that I’d like to see that boat,” he said. “Anyhow, +we’ll get way on her.” +</p> +<p>It was a relief to hoist the mainsail. The work put a +little warmth into the sailors. The white men had been +conscious of a growing uneasiness about their comrades in +the boat, and action of any sort was welcome. The breeze +had freshened before they set the sail, and there were whitecaps +on the water when the <i>Selache</i> headed for the ice, +which had somewhat changed its formation, for big masses +had become detached from it and were moving out into the +water, while the open space had become perceptibly +narrower. The light was now fading rapidly, and Wyllard +took the wheel when Dampier sent forward the man +who had held it. +</p> +<p>“Get the cover off the second boat, and see everything +clear for hoisting out,” commanded the skipper, and then +called to Wyllard, “We’re close enough. You’d better +heave her round.” +</p> +<p>The schooner came around with a thrashing of canvas, +stretched out seawards, and came back again with her deck +sharply slanted and little puffs of spray blowing over her +weather-rail, for there was no doubt that the breeze was +freshening fast. Dampier now sent a man up into the +foremast shrouds, and looked at Wyllard afterward. +</p> +<p>“I’d heave a couple of reefs down if I wasn’t so anxious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +about that blamed boat,” he said. “As it is, I want to +be ready to pick her up just as soon as we see her, and it’s +quite likely she’d turn up when we’d got way off the +schooner, and the peak eased down.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard realized that Dampier was right as he glanced +over the rail at the dimness that was creeping in on them. +It was blowing almost fresh by this time, and the <i>Selache</i> +was driving very fast through the swell, which began to +froth here and there. It is, as he knew from experience, +always hard work, and often impossible, to pull a boat to +windward in any weight of breeze, which rendered it advisable +to keep the schooner under way. If the boat drove +by them while they were reefing it might be difficult to +pick her up afterwards in the dark. He was now distinctly +anxious about her. Just as the light was dying +out, the man in the shrouds sent down a cry. +</p> +<p>“I see them, sir!” he said. +</p> +<p>Dampier turned to Wyllard with a gesture of relief. +“That’s a weight off my mind. I wish we had a reef in, +but”—he glanced up at the canvas—“she’ll have to stand +it. Anyway, I’ll leave you there. We want to get that +second boat lashed down again.” +</p> +<p>This, as Wyllard recognized, was necessary, though he +would rather have had somebody by him and the rest of +them ready to let the mainsheet run, inasmuch as he was a +little to windward of the opening, and surmised that he +would have to run the schooner down upon the boat. It +was a few moments later when he saw the boat emerge +from the ice, and the men in her appeared to be pulling +strenuously. They were, perhaps, half a mile off, and the +schooner, heading for the ice, was sailing very fast. Wyllard +lost sight of the boat again, for a thin shower of +whirling snow suddenly obscured the light. Dampier +called to him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p> +<p>“You’ll have to run her off,” he said. “Boys, slack +out your sheets.” +</p> +<p>There was a clatter of blocks, and when Wyllard pulled +his helm up it taxed all his strength. The <i>Selache</i> swung +around, and he gasped with the effort to control her as she +drove away furiously into the thickening snow. She was +carrying far too much canvas, but they could not heave +her to and take it off her now. The boat must be picked +up first, and the veins rose swollen to Wyllard’s forehead +as he struggled with the wheel. There is always a certain +possibility of bringing a fore-and-aft rigged vessel’s main-boom +over when she is running hard, and this is apt to result +in disaster to her spars. So fast was the <i>Selache</i> +traveling that the sea piled up in big white waves beneath +her quarter, and, cold as the day was, the sweat of tense +effort dripped from Wyllard as he foresaw what he had to +do. First of all, he must hold the schooner straight before +the wind without letting her fall off to leeward, which +would bring the booms crashing over; then he must run +past the boat, which he could no longer see, and round up +the schooner with fore-staysail aback to leeward of her, +to wait until she drove down on them. +</p> +<p>This would not have been difficult in a moderate breeze, +but the wind was blowing furiously and the schooner was +greatly pressed with sail. He thought of calling the others +to lower the mainsail peak, but with the weight of wind +there was in the canvas he was not sure that they could +haul down the gaff. Besides, they were busy securing the +boat, which must be made fast again before they hove the +other in, and it was almost dark now. In view of what +had happened in the same waters one night, four years +before, the desire to pick up the boat while there was a +little light left became an obsession. +</p> +<p>The swell was rapidly whitening and getting steeper. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +The <i>Selache</i> hove herself out of it forward as she swung +up with streaming bows. It seemed to Wyllard that he +must overrun the boat before he noticed her, but at last +he saw Dampier swing himself on to the rail. The skipper +stood there clutching at a shroud, and presently swinging +an arm, turned toward Wyllard. +</p> +<p>“Eight ahead!” he shouted. “Let her come up a few +points before you run over them.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard put his helm down a spoke or two, which was +easy, and then as the bows swung high again there was a +harsh cry from the man who stood above Dampier in the +shrouds. +</p> +<p>“Ice!” he roared. “Big pack of it right under your +weather bow.” +</p> +<p>Dampier shouted something, but Wyllard did not hear +what he said. He was conscious only that he had to decide +what he must do in the next few seconds. If he let +the <i>Selache</i> come up to avoid the boat, there was the ice +ahead, and at the speed she was traveling it would infallibly +incrush her bows, while if he held her straight there +was the boat close in front of her. To swing her clear of +both by going to leeward he must bring the mainsail and +boom-foresail over with a tremendous shock, but that +seemed preferable, and with his heart in his mouth he +pulled his helm up. +</p> +<p>He fancied he cried out in warning, but was never sure +of it, though three men came running to seize the mainsheet. +The schooner fell off a little, swinging until the +boom-foresail came over with a thunderous bang and crash. +She rolled down, heaving a wide strip of wet planking out +of the sea, and now for a moment or two there were great +breadths of canvas swung out on either hand. Then the +ponderous main-boom went up high above his head, and +he saw three shadowy figures dragged aft as they tried in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +vain to steady it The big mainsail was bunched up, a +vast, portentous shape above him, and he set his lips, and +pulled up the helm another spoke as it swung. +</p> +<p>He never quite knew what happened after that. There +was a horrible crash, and the schooner appeared to be rolling +over bodily. The spokes he clung to desperately reft +themselves from his grasp, the deck slanted until one could +not stand upon it, and something heavy struck him on the +head. He dropped, and Dampier flung himself upon the +wheel above his senseless body. +</p> +<p>There was mad confusion, and a frantic banging of canvas +as the schooner came up beam to the wind, with her +rent mainsail flogging itself to tatters. Its ponderous +boom was broken, and the mainmast-head had gone, but it +was not the first time the sealers had grappled with similar +difficulties, and Dampier kept his head. He had the +boat to think of, and she was somewhere to windward, hidden +in the sudden darkness and the turmoil of the quickly +rising sea, but the schooner counted most of all! His +crew could scarcely hear him through the uproar made by +the thundering canvas, and the screaming of the wind, +but the orders were given, and from habit and the custom +of their calling the men knew what the commands must be. +</p> +<p>They hauled a jib down, backed the fore-staysail, and +got the boom-foresail sheeted in, but they let the rent +mainsail bang, for it could do no more damage than it had +already done. +</p> +<p>A man sprang up on the rail with a blue light in his +hand, and as the weird radiance flared in a long streak to +leeward a cry rose from the water. In another few moments +a blurred object, half hidden in flying spray, drove +down upon the schooner furiously on the top of a sea, and +then there was sudden darkness as the man flung down +the torch. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p> +<p>Another harsh and half-heard cry rose out of the obscurity. +An indistinguishable object plunged past the +schooner’s stern, there was a crash to leeward as the +schooner rolled, and a man standing up in the boat clutched +her rail. The man was swung out of it as the vessel rolled +back again, but he crawled on to the rail with a rope in one +hand, and after jamming it fast around something, he +sprang down with the hooks of the lifting tackles which +one of the crew had given him. While two more men +scrambled up, there was a clatter of blocks, but a shattered +sea struck the boat as they hove her clear, and, when she +swung in, the brine poured out through the rents in her. +Dampier waved an arm as they dropped her on the deck, +and they heard him faintly. +</p> +<p>“Boys,” he shouted, “you have got to cut that mainsail +down!” +</p> +<p>They obeyed somehow, hanging on to the mast-hoops, +and now and then enveloped by the madly flogging canvas. +After that they trimmed her fore-staysail over, and there +was by contrast a curious quietness as Dampier jammed his +helm up, and the schooner swung off before the sea. +</p> +<p>Then somebody lighted a lantern, and Charly stooped +over Wyllard, who lay limp and still beside the wheel. In +the feeble light, Wyllard’s face showed gray except where +a broad red stain had spread across it. Dampier cast a +glance at him. +</p> +<p>“Get him below, and into his bunk, two of you,” he +commanded. +</p> +<p>The men carried him with difficulty, for the <i>Selache</i> +lurched viciously each time a white-topped sea came up +upon her quarter. As soon as it seemed advisable to leave +the deck Dampier went down. Wyllard lay in his bunk, with +his eyes half-open. His face was colorless except for the +broad smear of blood, which was oozing fast from a laceration +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +in his scalp. Dampier, who noticed his chilliness, did +not trouble about the wound. He stripped off the senseless +man’s long boots, and, unshipping a hot fender iron +from the stove, laid it against his feet. Afterward he contrived +to get some whisky down Wyllard’s throat, and then +he set to work to wash the scalp wound, dropping into the +water a little of the permanganate of potash, which is +freely used at sea. When that was done he applied a rag +dipped in the same fluid, and seeing no result of his efforts +went back on deck. He was anxious about his patient, +but not unduly so, for he had discovered long ago that +men of Wyllard’s type are apt to recover from more serious +injuries. +</p> +<p>It was blowing very hard when the skipper stood near +the wheel. A steep sea was already tumbling after the +schooner, but she was, at least, heading out from where +they supposed the ice to be, and he let her go, keeping her +away before it, and heading a little south of east. The +next morning the sea was very high, and the faint light +was further dimmed by snow, but it seemed safe to Dampier, +and the vessel held on while the big combers came +up astern and forged by high above her rail. +</p> +<p>The <i>Selache</i> was traveling fast to the eastward. She +was under boom-foresail and one little jib, with her mainmast +broken short off where the bolts of the halliard blocks +had traversed it. Dampier realized that every knot the +vessel made then could not be recovered that season. He +wondered, with a little uneasiness, what Wyllard would say +when he came to himself again. +</p> +<p>Next day the breeze moderated somewhat, and they let +the schooner come up a little, heading further south. On +the morning after that Wyllard showed signs of returning +consciousness. Dampier, however, kept away from him, +partly to allow his senses to readjust themselves, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +partly because he shrank from the necessary interview. +When dusk was falling, Charly went on deck to say that +Wyllard, who seemed perfectly conscious, insisted on seeing +the skipper, and with some misgivings Dampier went +down into the little cabin. The lamp was lighted, and +when he sat down Wyllard, who raised himself feebly on +his pillow, turned a pallid face to him. +</p> +<p>“Charly tells me you picked the boat up,” he said. +</p> +<p>“We did,” answered Dampier. “She had three or four +planks on one side ripped out of her.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s faint grimace implied that this did not matter, +and Dampier braced himself for the question he +dreaded. He had to face it another moment. +</p> +<p>“How’s she heading?” +</p> +<p>“A little south of east.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s face hardened. It was still blowing moderately +and by the heave of the vessel and the wash of water +outside he could guess how fast she was traveling. For a +moment or two there was an oppressive silence in the little +cabin. Then Wyllard spoke again. +</p> +<p>“You have been running to the eastwards since I was +struck down?” he asked. +</p> +<p>Dampier nodded. “Three days,” he confessed. “Just +now the breeze is on her quarter.” +</p> +<p>He winced under Wyllard’s gaze, and spread out his +hands with a deprecating gesture. +</p> +<p>“Now,” he added, “what else was there I could do? +She wrung her masthead off when you jibed her and there’s +not stick enough left to set any canvas that would shove +her to windward. I might have hove her to, but the first +time the breeze hauled easterly she’d have gone up on the +beach or among the ice with us. I had to run!” +</p> +<p>Wyllard closed a feeble hand. “Dunton was crippled, +too. It’s almost incredible.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></p> +<p>“In one way, it looks like that, but, after all, a jibe’s +quite a common thing with a fore-and-after. If you run +her off to lee when she’s going before it, her mainboom’s +bound to come over. Of course, nobody would run her off +in a wicked breeze unless he had to, but you’d no choice +with the ice in front of you.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard lay very still for a minute. It was clear to him +that his project must be abandoned for that season, which +meant that at least six months must elapse before he could +even approach the Kamtchatkan coast again. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he inquired at length, “what do you mean to +do?” +</p> +<p>“If the breeze holds we could pick up one of the Aleutians +in a few days, but I’m keeping south of the islands. +There’ll probably be ugly ice along the beaches, and I’ve +no fancy for being cast ashore by a strong tide when the +fog lies on the land. With westerly winds I’d sooner hold +on for Alaska. We could lie snug in an inlet there, and, +it’s quite likely, get a cedar that would make a spar. I +can’t head right away for Vancouver with no mainsail.” +</p> +<p>This was clear to Wyllard, who made a weak gesture. +“If the wind comes easterly?” +</p> +<p>Dampier pursed up his lips. “Then, unless I could +fetch one of the Kuriles, we’d sure be jammed. She won’t +beat to windward, and there’d be all Kamtchatka to lee +of us. The ice is packing up along the north of it now, +and the Russians have two or three settlements to the +south. We don’t want to run in and tell them what we’re +after.” +</p> +<p>A faint smile touched Wyllard’s lips. “No,” he said, +“not after that little affair on the beach. Since it’s very +probable that the vessel they send up to the seal islands +would deliver store along the coast, the folks in authority +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +would have a record of it. They would call the thing piracy—and, +in a sense, they’d be justified.” +</p> +<p>He was silent for a few moments, and then looked up +again wearily. +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” he remarked, “how that boat’s crew ever +got across to Kamtchatka. It was north of the islands +where the man brought Dunton the message.” +</p> +<p>Dampier understood that Wyllard desired to change the +subject, for this was a question they had often discussed +already. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he replied, “I still hold to my first notion. +They were blown ashore on the beach we have just left, +and made prisoners. Then a supply schooner or perhaps +a steamer came along, and they were sent off in her to be +handed over to the authorities. The vessel put in somewhere. +We’ll say she was lying in an inlet with a boat +astern, and somehow our friends cut that boat loose in the +dark, and got away in her.” +</p> +<p>He broke off for a moment to look at his companion significantly. +</p> +<p>“You can find quite a few points where that idea seems +to fail,” he added. “They were in Kamtchatka, but I’m +beginning to feel that we shall never know any more than +that.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made a gesture of concurrence, but in his face +Dampier saw no sign that he meant to abandon his project. +He seemed to sink into sleep, and the skipper, who went up +on deck, paced to and fro a while before he stopped by the +wheel and turned to the helmsman. +</p> +<p>“You can let her come up a couple of points. We may +as well make a little southing while we can,” he said. +</p> +<p>Charly, who was steering, looked up with suggestive +eagerness. “Then he’s not going for the Aleutians?” +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Dampier dryly. “I was kind of afraid +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +of that, but I choked him off. Anyway, this year won’t +see us back in Vancouver.” He paused. “We’re going to +stay up here until we find out where those men left their +bones. The man who has this thing in hand isn’t the +kind that lets up.” +</p> +<p>Charly made no answer, but his face hardened as he put +his helm down a spoke or two. +</p> +<p>Next day the wind fell lighter, but for a week it still +held westerly, and after that it blew moderately fresh from +the south. Crippled as she was, the <i>Selache</i> would lie a +point or two south of east when they had set an old cut-down +fore-staysail on what was left of her mainmast. The +hearts of her crew became lighter as she crawled on across +the Pacific. The men had no wish to be blown back to the +frozen North. +</p> +<p>The days were growing shorter rapidly, and the sun hung +low in the southern sky when at last the schooner crept +into one of the many inlets that indent the coast of Southern +Alaska. There was just wind enough to carry her in +around a long, foam-lapped point, and soon afterwards +they let the anchor go in four fathoms of water. Their +haven was a sheltered arm of the sea with a river mouth +not far away. There was no sign of life anywhere and the +ragged cedars that crept close down to the beach stood out +in somber spires against the gleaming snow. +</p> +<p>The cold was not particularly severe when the <i>Selache</i> +arrived, but when Dampier went ashore next morning to +pick a log from which they could hew a mast the temperature +suddenly fell, and that night the drift ice from the +river mouth closed in on them. When the late daylight +broke the schooner was frozen fast, and they knew it would +be several months before she moved again. It was before +the gold rush, and in winter Alaska was practically cut off +from all communication with the south. No man would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +have attempted to traverse the tremendous snow-wrapped +desolation of almost impassable hills and trackless forests +that lay between them and the nearest of the commercial +factories on the north, or the canneries on the other hand. +Besides, the canneries were shut up in winter time. They +were prisoners, and could only wait with what patience +they could muster until the thaw set them free again. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_A_DELICATE_ERRAND' id='XVIII_A_DELICATE_ERRAND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>A DELICATE ERRAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>There was a sharp frost outside, and the prairie was white +with a thin sprinkle of snow, when a little party sat down +to supper in the Hastings homestead, one Saturday evening. +Hastings sat at the head of the table, Mrs. Hastings +at the foot with her little daughters, and Agatha, Sproatly, +and Winifred between them. Sproatly and Winifred had +just driven over from the railroad settlement, as they did +now and then, and that was why the meal, which was usually +served early in the evening, had been delayed an hour +or so. The two hired men, whom Mrs. Hastings had not +kept waiting, had gone out to some task in the barn or +stables. +</p> +<p>Sproatly took a bundle of papers out of his pocket and +laid them on the table. There had been a remarkable +change in his appearance, for he now wore store clothes, +and the skin coat he had taken off when he came in was a +new one. It occurred to Mrs. Hastings that there was a +certain significance in this, though Sproatly had changed +his occupation some time before, and now drove about the +prairie as an agent for certain makers of agricultural +implements. +</p> +<p>“I called for your mail and Gregory’s before we left,” +he said. “I had to go around to see Hawtrey, which is +partly what made us so late, though Winifred couldn’t get +away as soon as she expected. They have floods of wheat +coming in to the elevators and I understand that the milling +people can’t take another bushel in.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings glanced at Agatha, who understood what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +the look meant, for Sproatly had hitherto spoken of Winifred +circumspectly as Miss Rawlinson. +</p> +<p>Hastings took the papers which Agatha handed to him +and laid them aside. +</p> +<p>“We’ll let them wait until supper’s over. I don’t expect +any news that’s particularly good,” he said. “The +bottom’s apparently dropping out of the wheat market.” +</p> +<p>“Mr. Hamilton can’t get cars enough, and we’ll have to +shut down in another day or two unless they turn up,” remarked +Winifred. “It’s much the same all along the line. +The Winnipeg traffic people wired us that they haven’t an +empty car in the yards. Why do you rush the grain in +that way? It’s bound to break the market.” +</p> +<p>Hastings smiled. “Well,” he explained, “a good many +of us have bills to meet. For another thing, they’ve had a +heavy crop in Manitoba, Dakota and Minnesota, and I +suppose some folks have an idea they’ll get in first before +the other people swamp the Eastern markets. I think +they’re foolish. It’s a temporary scare. Prices will stiffen +by and by.” +</p> +<p>“That’s what Mr. Hamilton says, but I suppose the +thing is natural. Men are very like sheep, aren’t they?” +</p> +<p>Mr. Hastings laughed. “Well,” he admitted, “we are, +in some respects. When prices break a little we generally +rush to sell. One or two of my neighbors are holding on, +and it’s hardly likely that very much of my wheat will be +flung on to a falling market.” +</p> +<p>“We have been getting a good deal from the Range.” +</p> +<p>There was displeasure in Hastings’ face. “Gregory’s +selling largely on Harry’s account?” +</p> +<p>“They’ve been hauling wheat in to us for the last few +weeks,” said Winifred. +</p> +<p>Agatha noticed that Hastings glanced at his wife significantly, +but Mrs. Hastings interposed and forbade any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +further conversation on the subject until supper was over. +After the table had been cleared Hastings opened his papers. +The others sat expectantly silent, while he turned +the pages over one after another. +</p> +<p>“No,” he said, “there’s no news of Harry, and I’m +afraid it’s scarcely possible that we’ll hear anything of him +this winter.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was conscious that Mrs. Hastings’ eyes were upon +her, and she sat very still, though her heart was beating +faster than usual. Hastings went on again: +</p> +<p>“The <i>Colonist</i> has a line or two about a barque from +Alaska which put into Victoria short of stores. She was +sent up to an A. C. C. factory, and had to clear out before +she was ready. The ice, it seems, was closing in unusually +early. A steam whaler at Portland reports the same thing, +and from the news brought by a steamer from Japan all +communication with Northeastern Asia is already cut +off.” +</p> +<p>No one spoke for a moment or two, and Agatha, leaning +back in her chair, glanced around the room. There was +not much furniture in it, but, though this was unusual on +the prairie, door and double casements were guarded by +heavy hangings. The big brass lamp overhead shed a +cheerful light, and birch wood in the stove snapped and +cracked noisily, and the stove-pipe, which was far too hot +to touch, diffused a drowsy heat. One could lounge beside +the fire contentedly, knowing that the stinging frost was +drying the snow to dusty powder outside. The cozy room +heightened the contrast that all recognized in thinking of +Wyllard. Agatha pictured the little schooner bound fast +in the Northern ice, and then two or three travel-worn +men crouching in a tiny tent that was buffeted by an Arctic +gale. She could see the poles bend, and the tricings +strain. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p> +<p>After that, with a sudden transition, her thoughts went +back to the early morning when Wyllard had driven away, +and every detail of the scene rose up clearly in her mind. +She saw him and the stolid Dampier sitting in the wagon, +with nothing in their manner to suggest that they were +setting out upon a perilous venture, and she felt his hand +close tight upon her fingers, as it had done just before +the vehicle jolted away from the homestead. She could +once more see the wagon growing smaller and smaller on +the white prairie, until it dipped behind the crest of a low +hill, and the sinking beat of hoofs died away. Then, at +least, she had realized that he had started on the first stage +of a journey which might lead him through the ice-bound +gates of the North to the rest that awaits the souls of sailors. +She could not, however, imagine him shrinking from +any ordeal. Gripping helm, or hauling in the sled traces, +he would gaze with quiet eyes steadfastly ahead, even if he +saw only the passage from this world to the next. Once +more a curious thrill ran through her, and there was pride +as well as regret in it. Presently she became conscious +that Hastings was speaking. +</p> +<p>“What took you around by the Range, Jim?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Collecting,” answered Sproatly. “I sold Gregory a +couple of binders earlier in the season, but I couldn’t get +a dollar out of him.” He laughed. “Of course, if it had +been anybody else I’d have stayed until he handed over the +money, but I couldn’t press Gregory too hard after quartering +myself upon him as I did last winter, though I’m +rather afraid my employers wouldn’t appreciate that kind +of delicacy.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings looked thoughtful. “Gregory should +have been able to pay. He thrashed out a moderately good +crop.” +</p> +<p>“About two-thirds of what it should have been, and I’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +reason for believing that he has been putting up a mortgage. +Interest’s heavy. There’s another matter. I wonder +if you’ve heard that he’s getting rid of two of Harry’s +hands? I mean Pat and Tom Moran.” +</p> +<p>“You’re sure of that?” Hastings asked sharply. +</p> +<p>“Tom told me.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings leaned forward suddenly in her chair. +“Then,” she said, “I’m going to drive across on Monday, +and have a few words with Gregory. Did Moran tell you +that Harry had decided to keep the two of them on +throughout the year?” +</p> +<p>“He wasn’t very explicit, but he seemed to feel he had +a grievance against Gregory. Of course, in a way, you +can’t blame Gregory. He’s in charge, and it isn’t in him +to carry out Harry’s policy. This fall in wheat is getting +on his nerves, and in any case he’d probably have held his +hand and cut down the crop next year.” +</p> +<p>“I do blame him.” Mrs. Hastings turned to Agatha. +“You will understand that in a general way there’s not +much that can be done when the snow’s upon the ground, +and as one result of it the hired man prefers to engage +himself for the year. To secure himself from being +turned adrift when harvest is over he frequently makes a +concession in wages. Now I know Harry intended to keep +those two men on, and Tom Moran, who has a little half-cleared +ranch back somewhere in the bush of Ontario, came +out here tempted by higher wages. I understand he had +to raise a few dollars or give the place up, and he left his +wife behind. Many of the smaller ranch men can’t live +upon their holdings. Well, I’m going over on Monday to +tell Gregory he has got to keep these two men, and you’re +coming with me.” +</p> +<p>Agatha made no reply. In the first place, she knew +that if Mrs. Hastings had made any plan she would gain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +nothing by objecting, and in addition to this she was conscious +of a certain desire to go. She felt that if Wyllard +had let the men understand that he would not dismiss them, +the promise, implied or explicit, must be redeemed. Wyllard +would not have attempted to release himself from it—she +was sure of that—and it appeared intolerable to her +that another man should be permitted to do anything that +would unfavorably reflect on him. Somewhat to her relief, +Hastings started another topic. +</p> +<p>“You have sold quite a few binders and harrows one +way or another, haven’t you, Jim?” he asked. +</p> +<p>Sproatly laughed. “I have,” he answered. “As I +told the Company’s Western representative some time ago, +a man who could sell patent medicine to the folks round +here could do a good trade in anything. He admitted that +my contention sounded reasonable, but I didn’t wear store +clothes then, and he seemed very far from sure of me. +Anyway, he gave me a show, and now I’ve got two or three +complimentary letters from the Company. They’ve added +a few dollars to my salary, and hint that it’s possible they +may put me in charge of an implement store.” +</p> +<p>“And you’re satisfied?” +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Sproatly, with an air of reflection, “in +some respects, I suppose I am. In others, the thing’s galling. +You have to report who you’ve called upon, and, if +you couldn’t do business, why they bought somebody else’s +machines. If you can’t get a farmer to take you in you +have to put up at a hotel. There’s no more camping in +a birch bluff under your wagon. Besides, you have to wear +store clothes.” +</p> +<p>Hastings glanced at Winifred, and Agatha fancied that +she understood what was in his mind. +</p> +<p>“Some folks would sooner sleep in a hotel,” he remarked, +with a twinkle in his eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>“Then,” declared Sproatly, “they don’t know very +much. They’re the kind of men who’d spend an hour every +morning putting their clothes on, and they haven’t found +out that there’s no comfort in any garment until you’ve +had to sew two or three flour bag patches on to it. Then +think of the splendid freeness of the other way of living. +You get your supper when you want it and just as you +like it. No tea tastes as good as the kind with the wood +smoke in it that you drink out of a blackened can. You +can hear the little birch leaves and the grasses whispering +about you when you lie down at night, and you drive on +in the glorious freshness—just when it pleases you—every +morning. Now the Company has the whole route and +programme plotted out for me. Their clerks write me +letters demanding most indelicately why I haven’t done +this and that.” +</p> +<p>Winifred looked at him disapprovingly. “Civilization,” +she said, “implies responsibility. You can’t live +just as you like without its being detrimental to the community.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” returned Sproatly with a rueful gesture, “it +implies no end of giving up. You have to fall into line, +and that’s why I kept outside it just as long as I could. +I don’t like standing in a rank, and,” he glanced down at +his cloth, “I’ve an inborn objection to wearing uniform.” +</p> +<p>Agatha laughed as she caught Hastings’ eye. She +guessed that Sproatly would be sorry for his candor afterwards, +but to some extent she understood what he was feeling. +It was a revolt against cramping customs and conventionalities, +and she partly sympathized with it, though +she knew that such revolts are dangerous. Even in the +West, those who cannot lead must march in column with +the rank and file or bear the consequences of their futile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +mutiny. It is a hard truth that no man can live as he +pleases. +</p> +<p>“Restraint,” asserted Winifred, “is a wholesome thing, +but it’s one most of the men I have met are singularly deficient +in. That’s why they can’t be left alone, but must +be driven, as they are, in companies. It’s their own fault +if they now and then find it a little humiliating.” +</p> +<p>There was a faint gleam in her eyes, at which Sproatly +apparently took warning, for he said no more upon that +subject, and they talked about other matters until he took +his departure an hour or two later. It was the next afternoon +when he appeared again and Mrs. Hastings smiled at +Agatha as he and Winifred drove away together. +</p> +<p>“Thirty miles is a long way to drive in the frost. I +suppose you have noticed that she calls him Jim?” Mrs. +Hastings commented. “Anyway, there’s a good deal of +very genuine ability in that young man. He isn’t altogether +wild.” +</p> +<p>“His appearance rather suggested it when I first met +him,” replied Agatha with a laugh. “Was it a pose?” +</p> +<p>“No,” said Mrs. Hastings reflectively. “I think one +could call it a reaction, and it’s probable that some very +worthy people in the Old Country are to blame for it. +Sproatly is not the only young man who has suffered from +having too many rules and conventions crammed down his +throat. In fact, they’re rather plentiful.” +</p> +<p>Agatha said nothing further, for the little girls appeared +just then, and it was not until the next afternoon that she +and Mrs. Hastings were again alone together. Then as +they drove across the prairie the older woman spoke of the +business they had in hand. +</p> +<p>“Gregory must keep those men,” she said. “There’s no +doubt that Harry meant to do it, and it would be horribly +unfair to turn them loose now when there is absolutely +nothing going on. Besides, Tom Moran is a man I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +specially sorry for. As I told you, he left a young wife +and a very little child behind him when he came out here.” +</p> +<p>“One would wonder why he did it,” responded Agatha. +</p> +<p>“He had to. There seems to be a notion in the Old +Country that we earn our money easily, but it’s very wrong. +We’ll take that man’s case as an example. He has a little, +desolate holding up in the bush of Ontario, a hole chopped +out of the forest and studded all over with sawn-off fir-stumps. +On it is a little two-roomed log shack. In all +probability there isn’t a settlement within two or three +leagues of the spot. Now, as a rule, a place of that kind +won’t produce enough to keep a man for several years after +he has partially cleared it, and unless he can earn something +in the meanwhile he must give it up. Moran, it +seems, got heavily into debt with the nearest storekeeper, +and had to choose between selling the place or coming out +here where wages are higher. Well, you can probably imagine +what it must be to the woman who stayed behind in +the desolate bush, seeing nobody for weeks together, though +I’ve no doubt that she’d bear it uncomplainingly believing +that her husband would come back with enough to clear +the debt.” +</p> +<p>Agatha could imagine the state of affairs in the little +home, and a certain indignation against Gregory crept into +her heart. She had once liked to think of him as pitiful +and chivalrous, and now, it seemed, he was quite willing +that this woman should make her sacrifice in vain. +</p> +<p>“But why have you taken the trouble to impress this +on—me?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings smiled. “I want you to plead that +woman’s cause. Gregory may do what you ask him gracefully. +That would be much the nicest way out of it.” +</p> +<p>“The nicest way?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Mrs. Hastings, “there is another one. +Gregory is going to keep Tom Moran, anyway. Harry has +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +one or two friends in this neighborhood who feel it more +or less of an obligation on them to maintain his credit.” +</p> +<p>Agatha felt the blood rise to her face. It was an unpleasant +thing to admit, but she fancied that Gregory +might yield to judicious pressure when he would not be +influenced by either compassion or a sense of equity. It +flashed upon her that had Mrs. Hastings believed that she +still retained any tenderness for the man, the story of +Moran would not have been told to her. The whole situation +was horribly embarrassing, but Agatha had courage in +her. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she promised simply, “I will speak to him.” +</p> +<p>They said nothing more until they approached the +Range, and as they drove by the outbuildings Agatha +glanced about her curiously. It occurred to her that the +homestead did not look quite the same as it appeared when +Wyllard was there. A wagon without one wheel stood +near the straw pile. A door of the barn hung awkwardly +open in a manner which suggested that it needed mending, +and the snow had blown inside the building. In the side of +one sod and pole structure there was a gap which should +have been repaired. Several other things suggested slackness +and indifference. She saw Mrs. Hastings frown. +</p> +<p>“There is a change in the place already,” said her +friend. They alighted in another minute or two, and +when they entered the house the gray-haired Swedish +woman greeted them moodily. She seemed to notice the +glance Mrs. Hastings cast around her, and her manner became +deprecatory. +</p> +<p>“I can’t keep things straight now. It is not the same,” +she complained. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings asked if Hawtrey was in, and hearing +that he was, turned to Agatha. “Go along and talk to +him. I’ve something to say to Mrs. Nansen,” she said. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_THE_PRIOR_CLAIM' id='XIX_THE_PRIOR_CLAIM'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>THE PRIOR CLAIM</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was with confused feelings, among which a sense of +repugnance predominated, that Agatha walked toward +Hawtrey’s room. She was not one of the women who +take pleasure in pointing out another person’s duty, for, +while she had discovered that this task is apparently an +easy one to some people, she was aware that a duty usually +looks much more burdensome when it is laid upon one’s +self. Indeed, she was conscious just then that one might +be shortly thrust upon her, which she would find it very +hard to bear, and she became troubled with a certain compunction +as she remembered how she had of late persistently +driven all thought of it out of her mind. +</p> +<p>There was no doubt that she was still pledged to Gregory, +and that she had loved him once. Both facts had to +be admitted, and it seemed to her that if he insisted she +must marry him. Deep down in her there was an innate +sense of right and honesty, and she realized that the fact +that he was not the man she had once imagined him to be +did not release her. It was clear that, if he was about to +commit a cruel and unjustifiable action, she was the one +person of all others whose part it was to restrain him. +</p> +<p>The color was a little plainer in her face than usual when +she entered the room where he lay, pipe in hand, in a +lounge chair. His attitude of languid ease irritated her. +She had seen that there were several things outside which +should have had some claim on his attention. A litter of +letters and papers lay upon a little table at his side, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +the fact that he could not reach them as he lay was suggestive. +He did not notice her entrance immediately. +He rose, when he saw her, and came forward with outstretched +hand. +</p> +<p>“I didn’t hear you,” he said. “This is a pleasure I +scarcely anticipated.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat down in the chair that he drew out for her +near the stove. He noticed that she glanced at the papers +on the table, and he laughed. +</p> +<p>“Bills, and things of that kind. They’ve been worrying +me for a week or two,” he said lightly. He seized the litter, +and bundling it together flung it into an open drawer, +which he shut with a snap. “Anyway, that’s the last of +them for to-day. I’m awfully glad you drove over.” +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled. The action was so characteristic of the +man. She had once found no fault with Gregory’s careless +habits, and his way of thrusting a difficulty into the background +had appealed to her. It had suggested his ability +to straighten out the trouble when it appeared advisable. +Now she told herself that she would not be absurdly hypercritical, +and, as it happened, he had given her the lead that +she desired. +</p> +<p>“I should think that you would have had to give them +more attention as wheat is going down,” she remarked. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey looked at her with an air of reproach. “It +must be nearly three weeks since I have seen you, and now +you expect me to talk of farming.” He made a rueful +gesture. “If you quite realized the situation it would be +about the last thing you would ask me to do.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was astonished to remember that three weeks +had actually elapsed since she had last met him, and they +had only exchanged a word or two then. He had certainly +not obtruded himself upon her, for which she was grateful. +</p> +<p>“Nobody is talking about anything except the fall in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +prices just now,” she persisted. “I suppose it affects you, +too?” +</p> +<p>Gregory, who seemed to accept this as a rebuff, looked +at her rather curiously, and then laughed. +</p> +<p>“It must be admitted that it does. In fact, I’ve been +acquiring parsimonious habits and worrying myself about +expenses lately. The expenses have to be kept down somehow, +and that’s a kind of thing I never took kindly to.” +</p> +<p>“You feel it a greater responsibility when you’re managing +somebody else’s affairs?” suggested Agatha, who was +still awaiting her opportunity. +</p> +<p>“Well,” replied Hawtrey, in whom there was, after all, +a certain honesty, “that’s not quite the only thing that has +some weight with me. You see, I’m not altogether disinterested. +I get a certain percentage—on the margin—after +everything is paid, and I want it to be a big one. +Things are rather tight just now, and the wretched mortgage +on my place is crippling me.” +</p> +<p>It had slipped out before he quite realized what he was +saying, and he saw the girl’s look of concern. She now +realized what Sproatly had meant. +</p> +<p>“You are in debt, Gregory? I thought you had, at +least, kept clear of that,” she said. +</p> +<p>“So I did—for a while. In any case, if Wyllard stays +away, and I can run this place on the right lines, I shall, +no doubt, get out of it again.” +</p> +<p>She was vexed that he should speak so selfishly, for it +was clear to her that, if Wyllard did not return until another +crop was gathered in, it would be because he was +held fast among the Northern ice in peril of his life. Then +another thought struck her. She had never quite understood +why Gregory had been willing to undertake the management +of the Range. In view of the probability that +Wyllard had plainly told him what to expect concerning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +herself, she had been greatly puzzled by his acquiescence. +But he had made that point clear by admitting that he had +been burdened with a load of debt. But why had he incurred +debts? The answer came to her as she remembered +having heard Mrs. Hastings or somebody else say that he +had spent a great deal of money upon his house and the +furnishings for it. It brought her a sudden sense of confusion, +for as one result of that expenditure he had been +forced into doing what she fancied must have been a very +repugnant thing. And she had never even crossed his +threshold! +</p> +<p>“When did you borrow that money?” she asked +sharply. +</p> +<p>There was no doubt that Gregory was embarrassed, and +her heart softened toward him for his hesitation. It was +to further her comfort that he had laid that load upon +himself, and he was clearly unwilling that she should know +it. That counted for much in her favor. +</p> +<p>“Was it just before I came out?” she asked again. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey made a little sign of expostulation. “You +really mustn’t worry me about these matters, Aggy. A +good many of us are in the storekeepers’ or mortgage-jobbers’ +hands, and there’s no doubt that if I have another +good year at the Range I shall clear off the debt.” +</p> +<p>Agatha turned her face away from him for a moment or +two. The thing that Gregory had done laid a heavy obligation +on her, and she remembered that she had only found +fault with him! Even then, stirred as she was, she was +conscious that all the tenderness that she had once felt for +him had vanished. The duty, however, remained, and +with a little effort she turned to him again. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey smiled. “I really don’t think I deserve a very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +great deal of pity. As I have said, I’ll probably come out +all right next year if I can only keep expenses down.” +</p> +<p>Then Agatha remembered the task that she had in hand. +It was a very inauspicious moment to set about it, but +that could not be helped, and even for Gregory’s own sake +she felt that she must win him over. +</p> +<p>“There is one way, Gregory, in which I don’t think it +ought to be done,” she said. “You assumed Mr. Wyllard’s +obligations when you took the farm, and I think you +should keep the two Morans.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey started. “Ah!” he replied. “Mrs. Hastings +has been setting you on; I partly expected it.” +</p> +<p>“She told me,” Agatha admitted. “Unless you will +look at the thing as I do, I could almost wish she hadn’t. +The thought of that man’s wife shut up in the woods all +winter only to find that what she has had to bear has all +been thrown away troubles me. Now Wyllard promised to +keep those men on, didn’t he?” +</p> +<p>“There was no regular engagement so far as I can make +out.” +</p> +<p>“Still, Moran seems to have understood that he was to +be kept on.” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Hawtrey, “he evidently does. If the +market had gone with us I’d have fallen in with his views. +As it hasn’t, every man’s wages count.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was conscious of a little thrill of repugnance. +Of late Gregory’s ideas had frequently jarred on her. +</p> +<p>“Does that release you?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey did not answer this. +</p> +<p>“I’ll keep those men on if you want me to,” he promised. +</p> +<p>Agatha winced at this. She had discovered that she +must not look for too much from Gregory, but to realize +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +that he had practically no sense of moral obligation, and +could be influenced to do justice only by the expectation +of obtaining her favor positively hurt her. +</p> +<p>“I want them kept on, but I don’t want you to do it for +that reason,” she said. “Can’t you grasp the distinction, +Gregory?” +</p> +<p>A trace of darker color dyed Hawtrey’s face, but while +she was a little surprised at the evidence that he felt her +rebuke, he looked at her steadily. He had not thought +much about her during the last month, but now the faint +scorn in her voice aroused his resentment. +</p> +<p>“Now,” he said, “there are just three reasons, Aggy, +why you should have troubled yourself about this thing. +You are, perhaps, a little sorry for Moran’s wife, but as +you haven’t even seen her that can hardly count for much. +The next is, that you don’t care to see me doing what you +regard as a shabby thing; perhaps it is a shabby thing in +some respects, but I feel it’s justifiable. Of course, if +that’s your reason there’s a sense in which, while not exactly +complimentary—it’s consoling.” +</p> +<p>He broke off, and looked at her with a question in his +eyes, and it cost Agatha an effort to meet his. She was +not prudish or overconscious of her own righteousness, +but once or twice, after the shock of her disillusionment +in regard to him had lessened, she had dreamed of the possibility +of endowing him little by little with some of the +qualities she had once fancied he possessed, and, as she +vaguely thought of it, rehabilitating him. Now, however, +the thing seemed impossible, and, what was more, the desire +to bring it about had gone. Hateful as the situation +was becoming, she was honest, and she could not let him +credit her with a motive that had not influenced her. +</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, her very coldness and aloofness stirred +desire in the man, and she shrank as she saw a spark of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +passion kindling in his eyes. She recognized that there +was a strain of grossness in him. +</p> +<p>“No,” she responded, “that reason was not one which +had any weight with me.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey’s face darkened. “Then,” he said grimly, +“we’ll get on to the third. Wyllard’s credit is a precious +thing to you; sooner than anything should cast a stain on +it you would beg a favor from—me. You have set him up +on a pedestal, and it would hurt you if he came down. Considering +everything, it’s a remarkably curious situation.” +</p> +<p>Agatha grew pale. Gregory was horribly right, for she +had no doubt now that he had merely thrust upon her a +somewhat distressing truth. It was to save Wyllard’s +credit, and for that alone, that she had undertaken this +most unpleasant task. She did not answer, and Hawtrey +stood up. +</p> +<p>“Wyllard has his faults, but there’s this in his favor—he +keeps a promise,” he said. “One has a certain respect +for a person who never goes back upon his word. Well, because +I really think he would like it, I’ll keep those men.” +</p> +<p>He paused for a moment, as if to let her grasp the drift +of his words, and then turned to her with something that +startled her in his voice and manner. “The question is—are +you willing to emulate his example?” +</p> +<p>Agatha shrank from the glow in his eyes. “Oh!” she +broke out, “you cannot urge me now—after what you +said.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed harshly. “Well,” he said, “I’ll come +for my answer very shortly. It seems that you and Wyllard +attach a great deal of importance to a moral obligation—and +I must remind you that the time agreed upon is +almost up.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat very still for perhaps half a minute, while a +sense of dismay took possession of her. There was no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +doubt that Gregory’s retort was fully warranted. She +had insisted upon his carrying out an obligation which +would cost him something, not because she took pleasure in +seeing him do what was honorable, but to preserve the +credit of another man. And now it was with intense repugnance +that she recognized that there was apparently no +escaping from the obligation she had incurred. Gregory’s +attitude was perfectly natural and logical. She had promised +to marry him, and he had saddled himself with a load +of debt on her account, but the slight pity and tenderness +that she had felt for him a few minutes earlier had utterly +disappeared. Indeed, she felt that she almost hated him. +His face had grown hard and almost brutal, and there was +a look she shrank from in his eyes. +</p> +<p>She rose with trembling limbs. +</p> +<p>“Do you wish to speak to Mrs. Hastings?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey’s lip curled. “No,” he said, “if she’ll excuse +me, I don’t think I do. If you tell her you have been successful, +she’ll probably be quite content.” +</p> +<p>Agatha went out without another word. Hawtrey +lighted his pipe and stretched himself out in his chair, +when he heard the wagon drive away a few minutes later. +He did not like Mrs. Hastings, and had a suspicion that +she had no great regard for him, but he was conscious of a +grim satisfaction. There was, though it seldom came to +the surface, a current of crude brutality in his nature, and +it was active now. When Agatha had first come from +England the change in her had been a shock to him, and +it would not have cost him very much to let her go. Since +then, however, her coldness and half-perceived disdain had +angered him, and the interview which was just past had +left him in an unpleasant mood. Though it was, perhaps, +the last effect he would have expected, it had stirred him +to desire a fulfillment of her pledge. It was consoling to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +feel that he could exact the keeping of her promise. His +face grew coarser as he assured himself of his claim, but +he had never realized the shiftiness and instability of his +own character. It was his misfortune that the impulses +which swayed him one day had generally changed the next. +</p> +<p>This became apparent when, having occasion to drive in +to the elevators on the railroad a week later, he called at a +store to make one or two purchases. The man who kept +the store laid a package on the counter. +</p> +<p>“I wonder if you’d take this along to Miss Creighton as +a favor,” he said. “She wrote for the things, and Elliot +was to take them out, but I guess he forgot. Anyway, he +didn’t call.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey told the clerk to put the package in his wagon. +He had scarcely seen Sally since his recovery, and he suddenly +remembered that, after all, he owed her a good deal, +and that she was very pretty. Besides, one could talk to +Sally without feeling the restraint that Agatha’s manner +usually laid on him. +</p> +<p>The storekeeper laid an open box upon the counter. +</p> +<p>“I guess you’re going to be married by and by,” he said. +Hawtrey was thinking of Sally then, and the question irritated +him. +</p> +<p>“I don’t know that it concerns you, but in a general +way it’s probable,” he replied. +</p> +<p>“Well,” said the storekeeper good-humoredly, “a pair +of these mittens would make quite a nice present for a lady. +Smartest thing of the kind I’ve ever seen here; choicest +Alaska fur.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey bought a pair, and the storekeeper took a fur +cap out of another box. +</p> +<p>“Now,” he said, “this is just the thing she’d like to go +with the mittens. There’s style about that cap; feel the +gloss of it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span></p> +<p>Hawtrey bought the cap, and smiled as he swung himself +up into his wagon. Gloves are not much use in the prairie +frost, and mittens, which are not divided into fingerstalls, +will within limits fit almost anybody. This, he felt, +was fortunate, for he was not quite sure that he meant to +give them to Agatha. +</p> +<p>It was bitterly cold, and the pace the team made was +slow, for the snow was loose and too thin for a sled of any +kind. Night had closed down and Hawtrey was suffering +from the cold, when at last a birch bluff rose out of the +waste in front of him. It cut black against the cold blueness +of the sky and the spectral gleam of snow, but when +he had driven a little further a stream of ruddy orange +light appeared in the midst of it. A few minutes later he +pulled his team up in front of a little log-built house, and +getting down with difficulty saw the door open as he approached +it. Sally stood in the entrance silhouetted against +a blaze of cheerful light. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she cried. “Gregory!” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey recognized the thrill in her voice, and took both +her hands, as he had once been in the habit of doing. +</p> +<p>“Will you let me in?” he asked. +</p> +<p>The girl laughed in a strained fashion. She had been a +little startled, and was not quite sure yet as to how she +should receive him; but Hawtrey drew her in. +</p> +<p>“The old folks are out,” she said. “They’ve gone over +to Elliot’s for supper. He’s bringing us a package.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey, who explained that he had the parcel, let her +hands go, and sat down somewhat limply. He had come +suddenly out of the bitter frost into the little, brightly-lighted, +stove-warmed room. The comfort and cheeriness +of it appealed to him. +</p> +<p>“This looks very cozy after my desolate room at the +Range,” he remarked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p> +<p>“Then if you’ll stay I’ll cook you supper. I suppose +there’s nothing to take you home?” +</p> +<p>“No,” declared Hawtrey with a significant glance at +her, “there certainly isn’t, Sally. As a matter of fact, I +often wish there was.” +</p> +<p>He saw her sudden uncertainty, which was, however, not +tinged with embarrassment, and feeling that he had gone +far enough he went out to put up his team. When he returned +there was a cloth on the table, and Sally was busy +about the stove. He sat down and watched her attentively. +In some respects, he thought she compared favorably +with Agatha. She had a nicely molded figure, and +a curious lithe gracefulness of carriage which was suggestive +of a strong vitality. Agatha’s bearing was usually +characterized by a certain frigid repose. Then Sally’s +face was at least as comely as Agatha’s, though attractive +in a different way, and there was no reserve in it. Sally +was what he thought of as human, frankly flesh and blood. +Her quick smile was, as a rule, provocative, and never +chilled one as Agatha’s quiet glances sometimes did. +</p> +<p>“Sally,” he said, “you’ve grown prettier than ever.” +</p> +<p>The girl turned partly towards him with a slow, sinuous +movement. +</p> +<p>“Now,” she replied quickly, “you oughtn’t to say those +things to me.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed; he was usually sure of his ground +with Sally. +</p> +<p>“Why shouldn’t I, when I’m telling the truth?” +</p> +<p>“For one thing, Miss Ismay wouldn’t like it.” +</p> +<p>Gregory’s face hardened. “I’m not sure she’d mind. +Anyway, Miss Ismay doesn’t like many things I’m in the +habit of doing.” +</p> +<p>Sally, who had watched him closely, turned away again, +but a thrill of exultation ran through her. It had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +with dismay she had first heard him speak of his marriage, +and she had fled home in an agony of anger and humiliation. +That state of mind, however, had not lasted long, +and when it became evident that the wedding was postponed +indefinitely, she began to wonder whether it was +quite impossible that Hawtrey should come back to her. +She felt that he belonged to her, although he had never +given her any very definite claim on him. She was primitive +and passionate, but she was determined, and now that +he had done what she had almost expected him to do, she +meant to keep him. +</p> +<p>“You have fallen out?” she inquired, and contrived to +keep the anxiety that she was conscious of out of her voice. +</p> +<p>The question, and more particularly the form of it, +jarred upon Hawtrey, but he answered it. +</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” he said. “As a matter of fact, Sally, you +can’t fall out nicely with everybody. Now when we fell +out you got delightfully angry—I don’t know whether you +were more delightful then or when you graciously agreed +to make it up again.” He laughed. “I almost wish I +could make you a little angry now.” +</p> +<p>Sally had moved nearer him to take a kettle off the stove, +and she looked down on him with her eyes shining in the +lamplight. She realized that she would have to fight Miss +Ismay for the man; but there was this in her favor—that +she appealed directly to one side of his nature, as Agatha, +even if she had loved him, could not have attracted him. +</p> +<p>“Would you?” she asked. “Dare you try?” +</p> +<p>“I might if I was tempted sufficiently.” +</p> +<p>She leaned upon the table still looking at him mockingly, +and she was probably aware that her pose and expression +challenged him. Indeed, she could not have +failed to recognize the meaning of the sudden tightening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +of his lips, though she did not in the least shrink from it. +She had not the faintest doubt of her ability to keep him +at a due distance if it appeared necessary. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she taunted, “you only say things.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed, and stooping down packed up a package +he had brought from the store. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “after all, I think I’d rather try +to please you.” He opened the package. “Are these +things very much too big for you, Sally?” +</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes glistened at the sight of the mittens he +held out. They were very different from the kind she had +been in the habit of wearing, and when he carelessly took +out the fur cap she broke into a little cry of delight. Hawtrey +watched her with a curious expression. He was not +quite sure that he had meant Sally to have the things when +he had purchased them, but he was quite contented now. +The one gift he had diffidently offered Agatha since her +arrival in Canada had been almost coldly laid aside. +</p> +<p>In a few minutes Sally laid out supper, and as she waited +upon him daintily or filled his cup Hawtrey thrust the +misgivings he had felt further behind him. Sally, he +thought with a feeling of satisfaction, could certainly cook. +When the meal was finished he sat talking about nothing +in particular for almost an hour, and then it occurred to +him that Sally’s mother would be back before very long. +She was a person he had no great liking for and he was +anxious to go. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “I must be getting home. Won’t you +let me see you with that cap on?” +</p> +<p>Sally, who betrayed no diffidence, put on the cap, and +stood before a dingy mirror with both hands raised while +she pressed it down upon her gleaming hair. She flashed +a smiling glance at him. It was quite sufficient, and as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +she turned again Hawtrey slipped forward as softly as he +could. She swung around, however, with a flush in her +face and a forceful restraining gesture. +</p> +<p>“Don’t spoil it all, Gregory,” she said sharply. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey, who saw that she meant it—which was a cause +of some astonishment to him—dropped his arms that were +held out to embrace her. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” he said, “if you look at it in that way I’m sorry. +Good-night, Sally!” +</p> +<p>She let him go, but she smiled when he drove away; +and half an hour later she showed the cap and mittens +to her mother with significant candor. Mrs. Creighton, +who was a severely practical person, nodded. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she said, “he only wants a little managing if +he bought you these, and nobody could say you ran after +him.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_THE_FIRST_STAKE' id='XX_THE_FIRST_STAKE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>THE FIRST STAKE</h3> +</div> + +<p>A fortnight had slipped by since the evening Hawtrey +had spent with Sally, when Winifred and Sproatly once +more arrived at the Hastings homestead. The girl was +looking jaded, and it appeared that the manager of the +elevator, who had all along treated her with a great deal +of consideration, had insisted upon her going away for a +few days when the pressure of business which had followed +the harvest had slackened. Sproatly, as usual, had driven +her in from the settlement. +</p> +<p>When the evening meal was finished they drew their +chairs close up about the stove, and Hastings thrust fresh +birch billets into it, for there was a bitter frost. Mrs. +Hastings installed Winifred in a canvas lounge and +wrapped a shawl about her. +</p> +<p>“You haven’t got warm yet, and you’re looking quite +worn out,” she said. “I suppose Hamilton has still been +keeping you at work until late at night?” +</p> +<p>“We have been very busy since I was last here,” Winifred +admitted, and then turned to Hastings. “Until the +last week or so there has been no slackening in the rush to +sell. Everybody seems to have been throwing wheat on to +the market.” +</p> +<p>Hastings looked thoughtful. “A good many of the +smaller men have been doing so, but I think they’re foolish. +They’re only helping to break down prices, and I +shouldn’t wonder if one or two of the big, long-headed buyers +saw their opportunity in the temporary panic. In fact, +if I’d a pile of money lying in the bank I’m not sure that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +I wouldn’t send along a buying order and operate for a +rise.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings shook her head at him. “No,” she said; +“you certainly wouldn’t while I had any say in the matter. +You’re rather a good farmer, but I haven’t met one yet who +made a successful speculator. Some of our friends have +tried it—and you know where it landed them. I expect +those broker and mortgage men must lick their lips when +a nice fat woolly farmer comes along. It must be quite +delightful to shear him.” +</p> +<p>Hastings laughed. “I should like to point out that +most of the farmers in this country are decidedly thin, and +have uncommonly little wool on them.” Then he turned +to the others. “I feel inclined to tell you how Mrs. Hastings +made the expenses of her Paris trip; it’s an example +of feminine consistency. She went around the neighborhood +and bought up all the wheat anybody had left on +hand, or, at least, she made me do it.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings, who had means of her own, nodded. +“That was different,” she declared; “anyway, I had the +wheat, and I—knew—it would go up.” +</p> +<p>“Then why shouldn’t other folks sell forward, for instance, +when they know it will go down? That’s not what +I suggested doing, but the point’s the same.” +</p> +<p>“They haven’t got the wheat.” +</p> +<p>“Of course; they wouldn’t operate for a fall if they had. +On the other hand, if their anticipations proved correct, +they could buy it for less than they sold at before they had +to deliver.” +</p> +<p>“That,” asserted Mrs. Hastings severely, “is pure gambling. +It’s sure to land one in the hands of the mortgage +jobber.” +</p> +<p>Hastings smiled at the others. “As a matter of fact, it +not infrequently does, but I want you to note the subtle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +distinction. The thing’s quite legitimate if you’ve only +got the wheat in a bag. In such a case you must naturally +operate for a rise.” +</p> +<p>“There’s a good deal to be said for that point of view,” +observed Sproatly. “You can keep the wheat if you’re +not satisfied, but when you try the other plan the margin +that may vanish at any moment is the danger. I suppose +Gregory has still been selling the Range wheat, Winifred?” +</p> +<p>“I believe we have sent on every bushel.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly exchanged a significant glance with Hastings, +whose face once more grew thoughtful. +</p> +<p>“Then,” remarked Hastings, “if he’s wise he’ll stop +at that.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings changed the subject, and drew her chair +closer in to the stove, which snapped and crackled cheerfully. +</p> +<p>“It must be a lot colder where Harry is,” she said with +a shiver. +</p> +<p>She flashed a swift glance at Agatha, and saw the girl’s +expression change, but Sproatly broke in again. +</p> +<p>“It was bad enough driving in from the railroad this +afternoon,” he said. “Winifred was almost frozen. That +is why I didn’t go round for the pattern mat—I think +that’s what Creighton said it was—Mrs. Creighton borrowed +from you. I met him at the settlement a day or +two ago.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings said that he could bring it another time, +and while the rest talked of something else Winifred +turned to Agatha. +</p> +<p>“It really was horribly cold, and I almost fancied one +of my hands was frost-nipped,” she said. “As it happens, +I can’t buy mittens like your new ones.” +</p> +<p>“My new ones?” questioned Agatha. +</p> +<p>“The ones Gregory bought you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p> +<p>Agatha laughed. “My dear, he never gave me any.” +</p> +<p>Winifred looked puzzled. “Well,” she persisted, “he +certainly bought them, and a fur cap, too. I was in the +store when he did it, though I don’t think he noticed me. +They were lovely mittens—such a pretty brown fur.” +</p> +<p>Just then Mrs. Hastings, unobserved by either of them, +looked up and caught Sproatly’s eye. His face became +suddenly expressionless, and he looked away. +</p> +<p>“When was that?” Agatha asked. +</p> +<p>“A fortnight ago, anyway.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat silent, and was glad when Mrs. Hastings +asked Winifred a question. She desired no gifts from +Gregory, but since he had bought the cap and mittens she +wondered what he could have done with them. It was +disconcerting to feel that, while he evidently meant to hold +her to her promise, he must have given them to somebody +else. She had never heard of his acquaintance with Sally +Creighton, but it struck her as curious that although the +six months’ delay he had granted her had lately expired, +he had neither sent her any word nor called at the homestead. +</p> +<p>A few minutes later Mrs. Hastings took up a basket of +sewing and moved towards the door. Sproatly, who rose +as she approached him, drew aside his chair, and she +handed the basket to him. +</p> +<p>“You can carry it if you like,” she said. +</p> +<p>Sproatly took the basket, and followed her into another +room, where he sat it down. +</p> +<p>“Well?” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings regarded him thoughtfully. “I wonder +if you know what Gregory did with those mittens?” +</p> +<p>“I’m rather pleased that I can assure that I don’t.” +</p> +<p>“Do you imagine that he kept them?” +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t an opinion on that point.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p> +<p>“Still, if I said that I felt certain he had given them +to somebody you would have some idea as to who it would +probably be?” +</p> +<p>“Well,” confessed Sproatly reluctantly, “if you insist +upon it, I must admit that I could make a guess.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings smiled in a manner which suggested comprehension. +“So could I,” she said. “I shouldn’t wonder +if we both guessed right. Now you may as well go +back to the others.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly, who made no answer, turned away, and he was +talking to Agatha when, half an hour later, a wagon drew +up outside the door. In another minute or two he leaned +forward in amused expectation as Sally walked into the +room. +</p> +<p>“I’m going on to Lander’s, and just called to bring back +the mat you lent us,” she said to Mrs. Hastings. “Sproatly +was to have come for it, but he didn’t?” +</p> +<p>Sproatly, who said he was sorry, fixed his eyes on her. +It was clear to him that Agatha did not understand the +situation, but he fancied that Sally was filled with an almost +belligerent satisfaction. She was wearing a smart +fur cap, and in one hand she carried a pair of new fur +mittens which she had just taken off. Sproatly, who +glanced at them, noticed that Winifred did the same. +Then Mrs. Hastings spoke. +</p> +<p>“I don’t think you have met Miss Ismay, Sally,” she +said. +</p> +<p>Sally merely acknowledged that she had not been introduced, +and Sproatly became more sure that the situation +was an interesting one, when Mrs. Hastings formally presented +her. It was clear to him that Agatha was somewhat +puzzled by Sally’s attitude. +</p> +<p>As a matter of fact, Agatha, who said that she must have +had a cold drive, was regarding the new arrival with a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +curiosity that she had not expected to feel when the girl +first came in. Miss Creighton, she admitted, was comely, +though she was clearly somewhat primitive and crude. +The long skin coat she wore hid her figure, but her pose +was too virile; and there was a look which mystified Agatha +in her eyes. It was almost openly hostile, and there +was a suggestion of triumph in it. Agatha, who could +find no possible reason for this, resented it. +</p> +<p>Sally had remained standing, and, as she said nothing +further, there was an awkward silence. She was the dominant +figure in the room, and the others became sensible of +a slight constraint and embarrassment as she gazed at +Agatha with unwavering eyes. In fact, it was rather a relief +to them when at last she turned to Mrs. Hastings. +</p> +<p>“I can’t stop. It wouldn’t do to leave the team in this +frost,” said she. +</p> +<p>This was so evident that they let her go, and Mrs. Hastings, +who went with her to the door, afterwards sat down +beside Sproatly a little apart from the rest. +</p> +<p>“I’ve no doubt you noticed those mittens,” she commented +softly. +</p> +<p>“I did,” Sproatly admitted. “I think you can rely +upon my discretion. If you hadn’t wanted this assurance +I don’t suppose you’d have said anything upon the +subject. It, however, seems very probable that Winifred +noticed them, too.” +</p> +<p>“Does that mean you’re not sure that Winifred’s discretion +is equal to your own?” +</p> +<p>Sproatly’s eyes twinkled. “In this particular case the +trouble is that she’s animated by a sincere attachment to +Miss Ismay, and has, I understand, a rather poor opinion +of Gregory. Of course, I don’t know how far your views +on that point coincide with hers.” +</p> +<p>“Do you expect me to explain them to you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p>“No,” answered Sproatly, “I’m only anxious to keep +out of the thing. Gregory is a friend of mine, and, after +all, he has his strong points. I should, however, like to +mention that Winifred’s expression suggests that she’s +thinking of something.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings smiled. “Then I must endeavor to have +a word or two with her.” +</p> +<p>She left him with this, and not long afterwards she and +Winifred went out together. When the others were retiring +she detained Agatha for a minute or two in the empty +room. +</p> +<p>“Haven’t the six months Gregory gave you run out +yet?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Agatha said they had, but she spoke in a careless tone +and it was evident that she had attached no particular +significance to the fact that Sally had worn a new fur cap. +</p> +<p>“He hasn’t been over to see you since.” +</p> +<p>The girl, who admitted it, looked troubled. Mrs. Hastings +laid a hand upon her shoulder. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” she said, “if he does come you must put +him off.” +</p> +<p>“Why?” Agatha asked, in a low, strained voice. +</p> +<p>“For one thing, because we want to keep you.” Mrs. +Hastings looked at her with a very friendly smile. “Are +you very anxious to make it up with Gregory?” A shiver +ran through the girl. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I can’t answer +you that! I must do what is right!” +</p> +<p>To her astonishment, Mrs. Hastings drew her a little +nearer, stooped and kissed her. +</p> +<p>“Most of us, I believe, have that wish, but the thing is +often horribly complex,” she said. “Anyway, you must +put Gregory off again, if it’s only for another month or +two. I fancy you will not find it difficult.” +</p> +<p>She turned away, thus ending the conversation, but her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +manner had been so significant that Agatha, who did not +sleep well that night, decided, if it was possible, to act on +the well-meant advice. +</p> +<p>It happened that a little dapper man who was largely +interested in the land agency and general mortgage business +spent that evening with Hawtrey in Wyllard’s room +at the Range. He had driven around by Hawtrey’s homestead +earlier in the afternoon, and had deduced a good deal +from the state of it, though this was a point he kept to +himself. Now he lay on a lounge chair beside the stove +smoking one of Wyllard’s cigars and unobtrusively watching +his companion. There was a roll of bills in his pocket +with which Gregory had very reluctantly parted. +</p> +<p>“In view of the fall in wheat it must have been rather a +pull for you to pay me that interest,” he remarked. +</p> +<p>“It certainly was,” Hawtrey admitted with a rueful +smile. “I’m sorry it had to be done.” +</p> +<p>“I don’t quite see how you made it,” persisted the other +man. “What you got for your wheat couldn’t have done +much more than cover working expenses.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed. He was quite aware that his visitor’s +profession was not one that was regarded with any great +favor by the prairie farmers, but he was never particularly +cautious, and he rather liked the man. +</p> +<p>“As a matter of fact, it didn’t, Edmonds,” he confessed. +“You see, I practically paid you out of what I get for running +this place. The red wheat Wyllard raises generally +commands a cent or two a bushel more from the big milling +people than anything put on the market round here.” +</p> +<p>Edmonds made a sign of agreement. He had without +directly requesting him to do so led Hawtrey into showing +him around the Range that afternoon, and having of necessity +a practical knowledge of farming he had been impressed +by all that he had noticed. The farm, which was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +a big one, had evidently been ably managed until a recent +date, and he felt the strongest desire to get his hands on +it. This, as he knew, would have been out of the question +had Wyllard been at home, but with Hawtrey, upon whom +he had a certain hold, in charge, the thing appeared by no +means impossible. +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” he replied. “I suppose he was reasonably +liberal over your salary.” +</p> +<p>“I don’t get one. I take a share of the margin after +everything is paid.” +</p> +<p>Edmonds carefully noted this. He was not sure that +such an arrangement would warrant one in regarding +Hawtrey as Wyllard’s partner, but he meant to gather a +little more information upon that point. +</p> +<p>“If wheat keeps on dropping there won’t be any margin +at all next year, and that’s what I’m inclined to figure on,” +he declared. “There are, however, ways a man with nerve +could turn it to account.” +</p> +<p>“You mean by selling wheat down.” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Edmonds, “that’s just what I mean. Of +course, there is a certain hazard in the thing. You can +never be quite sure how the market will go, but the signs +everywhere point to still cheaper wheat next year.” +</p> +<p>“That’s your view?” +</p> +<p>Edmonds smiled, and took out of his pocket a little bundle +of market reports. +</p> +<p>“Other folks seem to share it in Winnipeg, Chicago, +New York, and Liverpool. You can’t get behind these +stock statistics, though, of course, dead low prices are apt +to cut the output.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey read the reports with evident interest. All +were in the same pessimistic strain, and he could not know +that the money-lender had carefully selected them with a +view to the effect he hoped to produce. Edmonds, who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +saw the interest in Hawtrey’s eyes, leaned towards him +confidentially when he spoke again. +</p> +<p>“I don’t mind admitting that I’m taking a hand in a +big bear operation,” he said. “It’s rather outside my +usual business, but the thing looks almost certain.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey glanced at him with a gleam in his eyes. There +was no doubt that the prospect of acquiring money by an +easier method than toiling in the rain and wind appealed +to him. +</p> +<p>“If it’s good enough for you it should be safe,” he remarked. +“The trouble is that I’ve nothing to put in.” +</p> +<p>“Then you’re not empowered to lay out Wyllard’s +money. If that was the case it shouldn’t be difficult to +pile up a bigger margin than you’re likely to do by farming.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey started, for the idea had already crept into his +mind. +</p> +<p>“In a way, I am, but I’m not sure that I’m warranted +in operating on the market with it.” +</p> +<p>“Have you the arrangement you made with him in +writing?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey opened a drawer, and Edmonds betrayed no +sign of the satisfaction he felt when he was handed an informally +worded document. He perused it carefully, and +it seemed to him that it constituted Hawtrey a partner in +the Range, which was satisfactory. He looked up thoughtfully. +</p> +<p>“Now,” he said, “while I naturally can’t tell what +Wyllard contemplated, this paper certainly gives you power +to do anything you think advisable with his money. In +any case, I understand that he can’t be back until well on +in next year.” +</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t expect him until late in the summer, anyway.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p> +<p>There was silence for a moment or two, and during it +Hawtrey’s face grew set. It was unpleasant to look forward +to the time when he would be required to relinquish +the charge of the Range, and of late he had been wondering +how he could make the most of the situation. Then +Edmonds spoke again. +</p> +<p>“It’s almost certain that the operation I suggested can +result only one way, and it appears most unlikely that Wyllard +would raise any trouble if you handed him several +thousand dollars over and above what you had made by +farming. I can’t imagine a man objecting to that kind +of thing.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey sat still with indecision in his eyes for half a +minute, and Edmonds, who was too wise to say anything, +leaned back in his chair. Then Hawtrey turned to the +drawer again with an air of sudden resolution. +</p> +<p>“I’ll give you a check for a couple of thousand dollars, +which is as far as I care to go just now,” he announced +with studied carelessness. +</p> +<p>He took a pen, and Edmonds watched him with quiet +amusement as he wrote. As a matter of fact, Hawtrey +was in one respect, at least, perfectly safe in entrusting +the money to him. Edmonds had deprived a good many +prairie farmers of their possessions in his time, but he +never stooped to any crude trickery. He left that to the +smaller fry. Just then he was playing a deep and cleverly +thought-out game. +</p> +<p>He pocketed the check that Hawtrey gave him, and then +discussed other subjects for half an hour or so before he +rose to go. +</p> +<p>“You might ask them to get my team out. I’ve some +business at Lander’s and have ordered a room there,” he +said. “I’ll send you a line when there’s any change in +the market.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_GREGORY_MAKES_UP_HIS_MIND' id='XXI_GREGORY_MAKES_UP_HIS_MIND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>GREGORY MAKES UP HIS MIND</h3> +</div> + +<p>Wheat was still being flung on to a lifeless market when +Hawtrey walked out of the mortgage jobber’s place of +business in the railroad settlement one bitter afternoon. +He had a big roll of paper money in his pocket, and was +feeling particularly pleased with himself, for prices had +steadily fallen since he had joined in the bear operation +Edmonds had suggested, and the result of it had proved +eminently satisfactory. This was why he had just given +Edmonds a further draft on Wyllard’s bank, with instructions +to sell wheat down on a more extensive scale. He +meant to operate in earnest now, which was exactly what +the broker had anticipated, but in this case Edmonds had +decided to let Hawtrey operate alone. Indeed, being an +astute and far-seeing man, the broker had gone so far as +to hint that caution might be advisable, though he had at +the same time been careful to show Hawtrey only those +market reports which had a distinctly pessimistic tone. +Edmonds was rather disposed to agree with the men who +looked forward to a reaction before very long. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey glanced about him as he strode down the street. +It was wholly unpaved, and deeply rutted, but the drifted +snow had partly filled the hollows, and it did not look very +much rougher than it would have appeared if somebody +had recently driven a plow through it. Along both sides +of it ran a rude plank sidewalk, raised a foot or two above +the ground, so that foot-passengers might escape the mire +of the thaw in spring. Immediately behind the sidewalk +squat, weatherbeaten, frame houses, all of much the same +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +pattern, rose abruptly. On some of the houses the fronts, +carried up as high as the ridge of the shingled roof, had +an unpleasantly square appearance. Here and there a dilapidated +wagon stood with lowered pole before a store, but +it was a particularly bitter afternoon, and there was nobody +out of doors. The place looked desolate and forlorn, with +a leaden sky hanging over it and an icy wind sweeping +through the streets. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey strode along briskly until he reached the open +space which divided the little wooden town from the unfenced +railroad track. It was strewn with fine dusty snow, +and the huge bulk of the grain elevators towered high +above it against the lowering sky. A freight locomotive +was just hauling a long string of wheat cars out of a sidetrack. +The locomotive stopped presently, and though +Hawtrey could not see anything beyond the big cars, he +knew by the shouts which broke out that something unusual +was going on. He was expecting Sally, who was +going east to Brandon by a train due in an hour or two. +</p> +<p>When the shouts grew a little louder he walked around +in front of the locomotive, which stood still with the steam +blowing noisily from a valve, and he saw the cause of the +commotion. A pair of vicious, half-broken bronchos were +backing a light wagon away from the locomotive on the +other side of the track, and a fur-wrapped figure sat stiffly +on the driving seat. Hawtrey called out and ran suddenly +forward as he saw that it was Sally who was in peril. +</p> +<p>Just then one of the horses lifted its fore hoofs off the +ground, and being jerked back by the pole plunged and +kicked furiously, until the other horse flung up its head +and the wagon went backward with a run. Then they +stopped, and there was a series of resounding crashes +against the front of the vehicle. Hawtrey was within a +pace or two of the wagon when Sally recognized him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>“Keep off,” she cried, “you can’t lead them! They +don’t want to cross the track, but they’ve got to if I pull +the jaws off them.” +</p> +<p>This was more forcible than elegant, and the shrill +harshness of the girl’s voice jarred upon Hawtrey, though +he was getting accustomed to Sally’s phraseology. He +understood that she would not have his help, even if it +would have been of much avail, which was doubtful, and +he reluctantly moved back toward the group of loungers +who were watching her. +</p> +<p>“I guess you’ve no call to worry about her,” said one of +the men. “She’s holding them on the lowest notch, and +it’s a mighty powerful bit fixing. Besides, that girl could +drive anything that goes on four legs.” +</p> +<p>“Sure,” said one of the others. “She’s a daisy.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey was annoyed to notice that in place of being +embarrassed Sally evidently rather enjoyed the situation, +though several of the freight-train and station hands had +now joined the group of loungers and were cheering her +on. He had already satisfied himself that she had not a +trace of fear. In another moment or two, however, he forgot +his slight sense of disapproval, for Sally, sitting tense +and strung up on the driving seat with a glow in her +cheeks and a snap in her eyes, was wholly admirable. +There was lithe grace, strength, and resolution in every +line of her fur-wrapped figure. It is possible that her appearance +would have been less effective in a drawing-room, +but in the wagon she was in her place and in harmony with +her surroundings. Lowering sky, gleaming snow, fur-clad +men, and even the big, dingy locomotive, all fitted curiously +into the scene, and she made an imposing central +figure as she contended with the half-tamed team. Hawtrey +was conscious of a tumult of emotion as he watched +her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></p> +<p>The struggle with the team lasted for several minutes, +during which the horses plunged and kicked again, until +Sally stood boldly erect a moment while the wagon rocked +to and fro. Her tall, straight figure was commanding and +her face with a tress of loosened hair streaming out beneath +her fur cap was glowing with excitement. Again +and again she swung the stinging whip. Then it seemed +that the team had had enough, for as she dropped lightly +back into the seat the bronchos broke into a gallop, and in +another moment the wagon, jolting noisily as it bounced +across the track, vanished behind the locomotive. Gregory +heard a shout of acclamation as he turned and hurried +after it. +</p> +<p>Sally drove right through the settlement and back outside +it before she could check the horses, and she had just +pulled them up in front of the wooden hotel when Hawtrey +reached it. He stood beside the wagon holding up +his hand to her, and Sally, who laughed, dropped bodily +into his arms, which was, as he realized, a thing that +Agatha certainly would not have done. He set Sally down +upon the sidewalk, and when a man came out to take the +team Hawtrey took her into the hotel. +</p> +<p>“It was the locomotive that did it,” she explained. +“They were most too scared for anything, but I hate to be +beaten by a team. Ours know too much to try, but I got +Haslem to drive me in. I dropped him at Norton’s, who’ll +bring him on.” +</p> +<p>“He oughtn’t to have left you with them,” said Hawtrey +severely. +</p> +<p>Sally laughed. “Well,” she replied, “I’d quit driving +if I couldn’t handle any team you or Haslem could put the +harness on.” +</p> +<p>The hotels in the smaller prairie settlements offer one +very little comfort or privacy. As a rule they contain two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +general rooms, in one of which the three daily meals are +served with a punctuality which is as unvarying as the +menu. The traveler who arrives a few minutes too late for +one meal must wait until the next is ready. The second +room usually contains a rusty stove, and a few uncomfortable +benches; and there are not infrequently a couple of +rows of very small match-boarded cubicles on the floor +overhead. The Occident was, however, a notable exception. +For one thing, the building was unusually large, +and its proprietor had condescended to study the requirements +of his guests, who came from the outlying settlements. +There were two rooms above the general lounging +place on the first floor, one of which was reserved for the +wives and daughters of the farmers who drove in long distances +to purchase stores or clothing. In the other, dry-goods +traveling men were permitted to display their wares, +and privileged customers who wished to leave by a train, +the departure of which did not correspond with the hotel +arrangements, were occasionally supplied with meals. +</p> +<p>It was getting dusk when Hawtrey and Sally entered the +first of the two rooms, where the proprietor’s wife was just +lighting the big lamp. The woman smiled at Gregory, +who was a favorite of hers. +</p> +<p>“Go right along, and I’ll bring your supper up in a +minute or two,” she said. “I guess you’ll want it after +your drive.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey strode on down a short corridor towards the +second room, but Sally stopped behind him a moment. +</p> +<p>“Is Hastings in town?” she asked. “I thought I saw +his new wagon outside.” +</p> +<p>“His wife is,” said the other woman. “She and Miss +Ismay drove in to buy some things.” +</p> +<p>Sally asked no further questions. It was evident that +Mrs. Hastings would not start home until after supper, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +and as the regular hour meal would be ready in about half +an hour it seemed certain that she would come back to the +hotel very shortly. That left Sally very little time, for she +had no desire that Hawtrey should meet either Mrs. Hastings +or Agatha until she had carried out the purpose she +had in hand. It was at Gregory’s special request that she +had permitted him to drive in to see her off, and she meant +to make the most of the opportunity. She had long ago +regretted her folly in running away from his homestead +when he lay helpless, but things had changed considerably +since then. +</p> +<p>When she entered the second room, she said nothing to +Hawtrey about what she had heard. The room was cozily +warm and brightly lighted, and the little table was laid +for two with a daintiness very uncommon on the prairie. +It was a change for Sally to be waited on and to have a +meal set before her which she had not prepared with her +own fingers, and she sank into a chair with a smile of appreciation. +</p> +<p>“It’s real nice, Gregory,” she remarked. “Supper’s +never quite the same when you’ve had to stand over the +stove ever so long getting it ready.” She sighed. “When +I have to do that after working hard all day I don’t want +to eat.” +</p> +<p>The man felt compassionate. Sally, as he was aware, +had to work unusually hard at the desolate homestead +where she and her mother perforce undertook a great many +duties that do not generally fall to a woman. Creighton, +who was getting to be an old man, was of a grasping nature, +and hired assistance only when it was indispensable. +</p> +<p>“Well,” Hawtrey responded, “I’m not particularly +fond of cooking either.” +</p> +<p>Sally glanced at him with a provoking smile, for he had +given her a lead. “Then,” she asked with a coquettish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +raising of the eyebrows, “why don’t you get somebody else +to do it for you?” +</p> +<p>This was, as Gregory recognized, almost painfully direct, +but there was no doubt that Sally looked very pretty with +the faint flush of color in her cheeks and the tantalizing +light in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“As a matter of fact, that’s a thing I’ve been thinking +over rather often the last few months,” he said, and he +laughed. “It’s rather a pity you don’t seem to like cooking, +Sally.” +</p> +<p>Sally appeared to consider this. “Oh,” she said, “it +depends a lot on who it’s for.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey became suddenly serious for a moment or two. +There was no doubt that at one time he would have considered +it impossible that he should marry a girl of Sally’s +description, and even now he had misgivings. He had, +however, almost made up his mind, and he was not exactly +pleased that the proprietor’s wife came in with the meal, +and stayed to talk a while. +</p> +<p>When the woman went out he watched Sally with close +and what he imagined was unobtrusive attention while she +ate, and though he was aware of the indelicacy of his scrutiny, +he was relieved to find that she did nothing that was +actually repugnant to him. There was a certain daintiness +about the girl, and her frank appreciation of the good +things set before her only amused him. She was certainly +much more companionable than Agatha had been since she +came out to Canada, and her cheerful laughter had a pleasant +ring. +</p> +<p>When at last the meal was over Sally bade Gregory draw +her chair up to the stove. +</p> +<p>“Now,” she said, as she pointed to another chair across +the room, “you can sit yonder and smoke. I know you +want to.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p> +<p>Hawtrey remembered that Agatha did not like tobacco +smoke, and always had been inclined to exact a certain conventional +deference which he had grown to regard as rather +out of place upon the prairie. +</p> +<p>“My chair’s a very long way off,” he objected. +</p> +<p>Sally showed no sign of conceding the point as he had +expected, and he took out his pipe. He wanted to think, +for once more instincts deep down in him stirred in faint +protest against what he almost meant to do. There were +also several points that required practical consideration, +and among them were his financial difficulties, though +these did not trouble him so much as they had done a few +months earlier. For a minute or two neither of them said +anything, and then Sally spoke again. +</p> +<p>“You’re worrying about something, Gregory,” she said. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey admitted it. “Yes,” he replied, “I am. My +place is a poor one, and when Wyllard comes home I shall +have to go back to it again. Things would be so much +easier for me just now if I had the Range.” +</p> +<p>The girl looked at him steadily with reproach in her +eyes. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she said, “your place is quite big enough if you’d +only take hold and run it as it ought to be run. You could +surely do it, Gregory, if you tried.” +</p> +<p>The man’s resistance grew feebler, as it usually did +when his prudence was at variance with his desires. Sally’s +words were in this case wholly guileless, as he recognized, +and they stirred him. He made no comment, however, +and she spoke again. +</p> +<p>“Isn’t it worth while, though there are things you would +have to give up?” she asked. “You couldn’t go away +and waste your money in Winnipeg every now and then.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey laughed. “No,” he admitted; “I suppose if +I meant to make anything of the place that couldn’t be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +done. Still, you see, it’s horribly lonely sitting by oneself +beside the stove in the long winter nights. I wouldn’t +want to go to Winnipeg if I had only somebody to keep +me company.” +</p> +<p>He turned towards her suddenly with decision in his +face, and Sally lowered her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Don’t you think you could get anybody if you tried?” +she inquired. +</p> +<p>“The trouble,” said Hawtrey gravely, “is that I have +so little to offer. It’s a poor place, and I’m almost afraid, +Sally, that I’m rather a poor farmer. As you have once +or twice pointed out, I don’t stay with things. Still, it +might be different if there was any particular reason why +I should.” +</p> +<p>He rose, and crossing the room, stood close beside her +chair. “Sally,” he added, “would you be afraid to take +hold and see what you could make of the place and me? +Perhaps you could make something, though it would probably +be very hard work, my dear.” +</p> +<p>The blood surged into the girl’s face, and she looked up +at him with open triumph in her eyes. It was her hour, +and Sally, as it happened, was not afraid of anything. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she exclaimed; “you really want me?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Hawtrey quietly; “I think I have wanted +you for ever so long, though I did not know it until +lately.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” she said, “I’ll do what I can, Gregory.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/wheat-242.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 354px; height: 425px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 354px;'> +“‘WOULD YOU BE AFRAID TO SEE WHAT YOU COULD MAKE OF THE PLACE AND ME?’” <i>Page</i> 242 +<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Hawtrey bent his head and kissed her with a deference +that he had not expected to feel, for there was something +in the girl’s simplicity and the completeness of her surrender +which, though the thing seemed astonishing, laid a +restraint on him. As he sat down on the arm of her chair +with a hand upon her shoulder, he was more astonished +still, for she quietly made it clear that she expected a good +deal from him. For one thing, he realized that she meant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +him to take and to keep a foremost place among his neighbors, +and, though Sally had not the gift of clear and imaginative +expression, it became apparent that this was less +for her own sake than his. She was, with somewhat crude +forcefulness, trying to arouse a sense of responsibility in +the man, to incite him to resolute action and wholesome +restraint, and, as he remembered what he had hitherto +thought of her, a salutary sense of confusion crept upon +him. +</p> +<p>She seemed to recognize it, for at length she glanced up +at him sharply. +</p> +<p>“What is it, Gregory? Why do you look at me like +that?” she asked. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey smiled in a perplexed fashion. Hitherto she +had made her appeal through his senses to one side of his +nature only. There was no doubt on that point, but now +it seemed there were in her qualities he had never suspected. +She had desired him as a husband, but it was becoming +clear that she would not be content with the mere +possession of him. Sally, it seemed, had wider ideas in +her mind, and, though the idea seemed almost ludicrous, +she wanted to be proud of him. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” he faltered, “I can’t quite tell you—but +you have made me heartily ashamed. I’m afraid it’s a +very rash thing you are going to do.” +</p> +<p>She looked at him with candid anxiety, and then appeared +to dismiss the subject with a smile. +</p> +<p>“There is so much I want to say, and it mayn’t be so +easy—afterwards,” she said. “It’s a pity the train starts +so soon.” +</p> +<p>“We can get over that difficulty, anyway,” said Hawtrey. +“I’ll come on as far as I can with you, and get back +from one of the way stations by the Pacific express.” +</p> +<p>Sally made no objections, and drawing a little closer to +him she talked on in a low voice. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_A_PAINFUL_REVELATION' id='XXII_A_PAINFUL_REVELATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>A PAINFUL REVELATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>A sprinkle of snow was driving down the unpaved street +before the biting wind, when Mrs. Hastings came out of a +store in the settlement and handed Sproatly, who was waiting +close by, several big packages. +</p> +<p>“You can put them into the wagon, and tell Jake we’ll +want the team as soon as supper’s over,” she said. “We’re +going to stay with Mrs. Ormond to-night, and I don’t want +to get there too late.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly took the parcels, and Mrs. Hastings turned to +Agatha, who stood a pace or two behind her with Winifred. +</p> +<p>“Now,” she announced, “if there’s nothing else you +want to buy we’ll go across to the hotel.” +</p> +<p>They were standing in a big comfortless room in the +hotel when Sproatly rejoined them. +</p> +<p>“This place is quite shivery,” observed Mrs. Hastings. +“They generally have the stove lighted in the little room +along the corridor. Go and see, Jim.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly went out. It happened that he was wearing +rubber boots, which make very little noise. He proceeded +along the dark corridor, and then stopped abruptly when he +had almost reached a partly-open door, for he could see +into a lighted room. Hawtrey was sitting near the stove +on the arm of Sally’s chair. +</p> +<p>Though he was not greatly surprised, Sproatly drew +back a pace or two into the shadow, for it became evident +that there were only two courses open to him. He could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +judiciously announce his presence by making the door rattle, +and then go in and mention as casually as possible that +Mrs. Hastings and Agatha were in the hotel. He felt that +he ought to do it, but there was the difficulty that he could +not warn Hawtrey without embarrassing Sally. Sproatly +hesitated in honest doubt as it became evident that the +situation was a delicate one. He decided on the alternative. +He would go back quietly, and keep Mrs. Hastings +out of the room if it could be done. +</p> +<p>“I think you would be just as comfortable where you +are,” he informed her when he joined the others. +</p> +<p>“I’m rather doubtful,” declared Mrs. Hastings. +“Wasn’t the stove lighted?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Sproatly, “I fancy it was.” +</p> +<p>“But I sent you to make sure.” +</p> +<p>“The fact is, I didn’t go in,” said Sproatly uneasily. +“There’s somebody in the room already.” +</p> +<p>“Any of the boys would go out if they knew we wanted +it.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” acquiesced Sproatly. “Still, you see, it’s +only a small room, and one of them has been smoking.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings flashed a keen glance at him, and then +smiled in a manner he did not like. It suggested that +while she yielded to his objections she had by no means +abandoned the subject. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she said, “what shall we do until supper? +This stove won’t draw properly, and I don’t feel inclined +to sit shivering here.” +</p> +<p>Then Sproatly was seized by what proved to be a singularly +unfortunate inspiration. +</p> +<p>“It’s really not snowing much, and we’ll go down to +the depôt and watch the Atlantic express come in,” he +suggested. “It’s one of the things everybody does.” +</p> +<p>This was, as a matter of fact, correct. There are not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +many amusements open to the inhabitants of the smaller +settlements along the railroad track, and the arrival of the +infrequent trains is a source of unflagging interest. Mrs. +Hastings fell in with the suggestion, and Sproatly was +congratulating himself upon his diplomacy, when Agatha +stopped as they reached the door of the hotel. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she said, “I’ve only brought one of my mittens.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll go back for the other,” responded Sproatly +promptly. +</p> +<p>“You don’t know where I left it.” +</p> +<p>“Then I’ll lend you one of mine. It will certainly go +on,” the man persisted. +</p> +<p>Agatha objected to this, and Sproatly, who fancied that +Mrs. Hastings was watching him, let her go, after which +he and the others moved out into the street. Agatha ran +back to the room they had left, and, finding the mitten, +had reached the head of the stairway when she heard voices +behind her in the corridor. She recognized them, and +turned in sudden astonishment. Standing in the shadow +she involuntarily waited. Not far away a stream of light +from the door of the room shone out into the corridor. +Next moment Hawtrey and Sally approached the door, and +as the light fell upon them the blood surged into Agatha’s +face, for she remembered the embarrassment in Sproatly’s +manner, and that he had done all he could to prevent her +from going back for the mitten. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey spoke to Sally, and there was no doubt whatever +that he called her “My dear.” Filled with burning +indignation, Agatha stood still for a moment and they were +almost upon her before she turned and fled precipitately +down the stairway. She felt that this was horribly undignified, +but she could not stay and face them. When she +overtook the others she had recovered her outward composure, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +and they went on together toward the track. As +yet she was conscious only of anger at Gregory’s treachery. +That feeling possessed her too completely for her to be conscious +of anything else. +</p> +<p>Cold as it was, there were a good many loungers in the +station, and Sproatly, who spoke to one or two of them, +led his party away from the little shed where they loitered, +and walked briskly up and down beside the track until a +speck of blinking light rose out of the white wilderness. +The light grew rapidly larger, until they could make out a +trail of smoke behind it, and the roar of wheels rose in a +long crescendo. Then a bell commenced to toll, and the +blaze of a big lamp beat into their faces as the great locomotive +came clanking into the station. +</p> +<p>The locomotive stopped, and the light from the long car +windows fell upon the groups of watching fur-clad men, +while here and there a shadowy object that showed black +against it leaned out from a platform. There was, however, +no sign of any passengers for the train until at the +last moment two figures appeared hurrying along. They +drew nearer, and Agatha set her lips tight as she recognized +them, for the light from a vestibule shone into Hawtrey’s +face as he half lifted Sally on to one of the platforms and +sprang up after her. Then the bell tolled again, and the +train slid slowly out of the station with its lights flashing +upon the snow. +</p> +<p>Agatha turned away abruptly and walked a little apart +from the rest. The thing, she felt, admitted of only one +explanation. Sproatly’s diplomacy had had a most unfortunate +result, and she was sensible of an intolerable disgust. +She had kept faith with Gregory, at least as far as +it was possible, and he had utterly humiliated her. The +affront he had put upon her was almost unbearable. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p> +<p>In the meanwhile, Mrs. Hastings walked up to Sproatly, +who, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, had drawn back +judiciously into the shadow. +</p> +<p>“Now,” she said, “I understand. You, of course, anticipated +this.” +</p> +<p>“I didn’t,” declared Sproatly with a decision which carried +conviction with it. “I certainly saw them at the +hotel, but how could I imagine that they had anything of +the kind in view?” +</p> +<p>He broke off for a moment, and waved his hand. “After +all,” he added, “what right have you to think it now?” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings laughed somewhat harshly. “Unfortunately, +I have my eyes, but I’ll admit that there’s a certain +obligation on me to make quite certain before going any +further. That’s why I want you to ascertain where he +checked his baggage to.” +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid that’s more than I’m willing to undertake. +Do you consider it advisable to set the station agent wondering +about the thing? Besides, once or twice in my +career appearances have been rather badly against me, and +I’m not altogether convinced yet.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings let the matter drop, and they went back +rather silently to the hotel. As soon as supper was past, +Mrs. Hastings bade Sproatly get their wagon out and she +drove away with Agatha. During the long, cold journey +she said very little to the girl, and they had no opportunity +of private conversation when they reached the homestead +where they were to spend the night. Agatha hated herself +for the thought in her mind, but everything seemed to +warrant it, and it would not be driven out. She had heard +what Gregory had called Sally at the hotel, and the fact +that he must have bought his ticket and checked his baggage +earlier in the afternoon when there was nobody about, +so that he could run down with Sally at the last moment, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +evidently in order to escape observation, was very significant. +</p> +<p>The two women went home next day, and on the following +morning a man, who was driving in to Lander’s, +brought Mrs. Hastings a note from Sproatly. It was very +brief, and ran: +</p> +<p>“Gregory arrived same night by Pacific train. It is +evident he must have got off at the next station down the +line.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings showed it to her husband. +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid we have been too hasty. What am I to do +with this?” she said. +</p> +<p>Hastings smiled. “Since you ask my advice, I’d put +it into the stove.” +</p> +<p>“But it clears the man. Isn’t it my duty to show it +to Agatha?” +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Hastings reflectively, “I’m not sure that +it is your duty to put ideas into her mind when you can’t +be quite certain that she has entertained them.” +</p> +<p>“I should be greatly astonished if she hadn’t,” answered +Mrs. Hastings. +</p> +<p>Hastings made an expressive gesture. “Oh,” he remarked, +“you’ll no doubt do what you think wisest. When +you come to me for advice you have usually made up your +mind, and you merely expect me to tell you that you’re +right.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings thought over the matter for another hour +or two. For one thing, Agatha’s quiet manner puzzled +her, and she did not know that the girl had passed a night +in agony of anger and humiliation, and had then become +conscious of a relief of which she was ashamed. There +was, however, no doubt that while Agatha blamed herself +in some degree for what had happened, she did feel as if a +weight had been lifted from her heart. She was sitting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +alone in a shadowy room watching the light die off the +snowy prairie outside, when Mrs. Hastings came softly in +and sat down beside her. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” said Mrs. Hastings, “it’s rather difficult to +speak of, but that little scene at the station must have hurt +you.” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked at her quietly and searchingly, but there +was only sympathy in her face, and she leaned forward impulsively. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she exclaimed, “it hurt me horribly, because I +feel it was my fault. I was the cause of it!” +</p> +<p>“How could that be?” +</p> +<p>“If I had only been kinder to Gregory he would, perhaps, +never have thought of that girl. I must have made +it clear that he jarred upon me. I drove him”—Agatha +turned her face away, while her voice trembled—“into +that woman’s arms. No doubt she was ready to make the +most of the opportunity.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings thought that the girl’s scorn and disgust +were perfectly natural, even though, as it happened, they +were not quite warranted. +</p> +<p>“In the first place,” she suggested, “I think you had +better read this note.” +</p> +<p>Agatha took the note, and there was light enough left +to show that the blood had crept into her face when she laid +it down again. For almost a minute she sat very still. +</p> +<p>“It is a great relief to know that I was wrong—in one +respect, but you must not think I hated this girl because +Gregory had preferred her to me,” she said at last. “When +the first shock had passed, there was an almost horrible +satisfaction in feeling that he had released me—at any +cost. I suppose I shall always be ashamed of that.” +</p> +<p>She broke off a moment, and her voice was very steady +when she went on again: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p> +<p>“Still, what Sproatly says does not alter the case so +much after all. It can’t free me of my responsibility. If +I hadn’t driven him, Gregory would not have gone to her.” +</p> +<p>“You consider that in itself a very dreadful thing?” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked at Mrs. Hastings with suddenly lifted +head. “Of course,” she answered. “Can you doubt it?” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings laughed, though there was a little gleam +in her eyes, for this was an opportunity for which she had +been waiting. +</p> +<p>“Then,” she said, “you spoke like an Englishwoman—of +station—just out from the Old Country—but I’m going +to try to disabuse you of one impression. Sally, to put it +crudely, is quite good enough for Gregory. In fact, if +she had been my daughter I’d have kept him away from +her. To begin with, once you strip Gregory of his little +surface graces, and his clean English intonation, how does +he compare with the men you meet out here? What does +his superiority consist of? Is he truer or kinder than you +have found most of them to be? Has he a finer courage, +or a more resolute endurance—a greater capacity for labor, +or a clearer knowledge of the calling by which he makes +his living?” +</p> +<p>Agatha did not answer. She could not protest that +Gregory possessed any of these qualities, and Mrs. Hastings +continued: +</p> +<p>“Has he even a more handsome person? I could point +to a dozen men between here and the railroad, whose clean, +self-denying lives have set a stamp on them that Gregory +will never wear. To descend to perhaps the lowest point +of all, has he more money? We know he wasted what he +had—probably in indulgence—and there is a mortgage on +his farm. Has he any sense of honor? He let Sally believe +he was in love with her before you even came out +here, and of late, while he still claimed you, he has gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +back to her. Can’t you get away from your point of view, +and realize what kind of a man he is?” +</p> +<p>Agatha turned her head away. “Ah!” she cried, “I +realized him—several months ago. They were painful +months to me. But you are quite sure he was in love with +Sally before I came out?” +</p> +<p>“Well,” Mrs. Hastings declared, “his conduct suggested +it.” She laid a caressing hand on the girl’s shoulder. +“You tried to keep faith with him. Tried desperately, +I think. Did you succeed?” +</p> +<p>Agatha contrived to meet the older woman’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“At least, I would have married him.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” asserted Mrs. Hastings, “I can forgive Gregory +even his treachery, and you have no cause to pity him. +Sally is simple—primitive, you would call her—but she’s +clever and capable in all practical things. She will bear +with Gregory when you would turn from him in dismay, +and, when it is necessary, she will not shrink from putting +a little judicious pressure on him in a way you could not +have done. It may sound incomprehensible, but that girl +will lead or drive Gregory very much further than he could +have gone with you. She doesn’t regard him as perfection, +but she loves him.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings paused, and for several minutes there was +a tense silence in the little shadowy room. It had grown +almost dark, and the square of the window glimmered +faintly with the dim light flung up by the snow. +</p> +<p>Agatha turned slowly in her chair. “Thank you,” she +said in a low voice. “You have taken a heavy weight off +my mind.” +</p> +<p>She paused a moment, and then added, “You have been +a good friend all along. It was supreme good fortune that +placed me in your hands.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings patted her shoulder, and then went out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +quietly. Agatha lay still in her chair beside the stove. +The fire snapped and crackled cheerfully, but except for +the pleasant sound, there was a restful quietness. The +room was cozily warm, though its occupant could hear a +little icy wind wail about the building. It swept Agatha’s +thoughts away to the frozen North, and she realized what +it had cost her to keep faith with Gregory as she pictured +a little snow-sheeted schooner hemmed in among the floes, +and two or three worn-out men hauling a sled painfully +over the ridged and furrowed ice. The man who had gone +up into that great desolation had been endued with an almost +fantastic sense of honor, and now he might never +even know that she loved him. She admitted that she had +loved him for several months. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_THROUGH_THE_SNOW' id='XXIII_THROUGH_THE_SNOW'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>THROUGH THE SNOW</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next morning, the mail-carrier, who, half-frozen and white +all over, drove up to the homestead out of a haze of falling +snow, brought Agatha a note from Gregory. The note was +brief, and Agatha read it with a smile of half-amused contempt, +though she admitted that, considering everything, +he had handled the embarrassing situation gracefully. +This attitude, however, was only what she had expected, +and she recognized that it was characteristic of Hawtrey +that he had written releasing her from her engagement instead +of seeking an interview. Gregory, as she realized +now, had always taken the easiest way, and it was evident +that he had not even the courage to face her. She quietly +dropped the note—it did not seem worth while to fling it—into +the stove. +</p> +<p>Agatha could forgive Gregory for choosing Sally. +Though she was very human in most respects, that scarcely +troubled her, but she could not forgive him for persisting +in his claim to her while he was philandering—and this +seemed the most fitting term—with her rival. Had he +only been honest, she would not have let Wyllard go away +without some assurance of her regard which would have +cheered the brave seafarer on his perilous journey. And +it was clear to her that Wyllard might never come back +again! Her face grew hard when she thought of it, and +she had thought of it frequently. For that double-dealing +she felt she almost hated Gregory. +</p> +<p>A month passed drearily, with Arctic frost outside on +the prairie, and little to do inside the homestead except to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +cook and gorge the stove, and endeavor to keep warmth in +one’s body. Water froze solid inside the house, stinging +draughts crept in through the double windows, and there +were evenings when Mrs. Hastings and Agatha, shivering +close beside the stove, waited anxiously for the first sign +of Hastings and the hired man, who were bringing back a +sled loaded with birch logs from a neighboring bluff. The +bluff was only a few miles away, but men sent out to cut +fuel in the awful cold snaps in that country have now and +then sunk down in the snow with the life frozen out of +them. There were other days when the wooden building +seemed to rock beneath the buffeting of the icy hurricane, +and it was a perilous matter to cross the narrow open space +between it and the stables through the haze of swirling +snow. +</p> +<p>The weather moderated a little by and by, and one +afternoon Mrs. Hastings drove off to Lander’s with the one +hired man that they kept through the winter. Mr. Hastings +had set out earlier for the bluff, and as the Scandinavian +maid had been married and had gone away, Agatha +was left in the house with the little girls. +</p> +<p>It was bitterly cold, even inside the dwelling, but Agatha +was busy baking, and she failed to notice that the temperature +had become almost Arctic, until she stood beside a +window as evening was closing in. A low, dingy sky hung +over the narrowing sweep of prairie which stretched back, +gleaming lividly, into the creeping dusk, but a few minutes +later a haze of snow whirled across it and cut off the +dreary scene. +</p> +<p>The light died out suddenly, and Agatha and the little +girls drew their chairs close up to the stove. The house +was very quiet, and Agatha could hear the mournful wailing +of the wind about it, with now and then the soft swish +of driven snow upon the walls and roofing shingles. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p> +<p>The table was laid for supper, and the kettle was singing +cheerfully upon the stove, but there was no sign of +the other members of the family, and presently Agatha began +to feel a little anxious. Mrs. Hastings, she fancied, +would stay one night at Lander’s, if there was any unfavorable +change in the weather, but she wondered what +could be detaining Hastings. It was not very far to the +bluff, and as he could not have continued chopping in the +darkness it seemed to her that he should have reached the +homestead. +</p> +<p>He did not come, however, and she grew more uneasy as +the time slipped by. The wail of the wind grew louder +and the stove crackled more noisily. At last one of the +little girls rose with a cry that she thought she heard the +beat of hoofs. The impression grew more distinct until +she was sure that some one was riding toward the homestead, +and Agatha heard the hoofbeats, but soon after that +the sound ceased abruptly, and she could not hear the rattle +of flung-down logs which she had expected. This struck +Agatha as curious, since she knew that Hastings generally +unloaded the sled before he led the team to the stable. +She waited a moment or two, but except for the doleful +wind nothing broke the silence now, and when the stillness +became oppressive she moved towards the door. +</p> +<p>The wind tore the door from her grasp when she opened +it, and flung it against the wall with a jarring crash, while +a fine powder that stung the skin unbearably drove into +her face. For a few moments she could see nothing but a +whirling haze, and then, as her eyes became accustomed +to the change of light, she dimly made out the blurred +white figures of the horses standing still, with the load of +birch logs rising a shapeless mass behind them. There +seemed to be nobody with the team, and, though she twice +called sharply, no answer came out of the falling snow. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +Then she recognized the significant fact that the team had +come home alone. +</p> +<p>It was difficult to close the door, and before she accomplished +what was a feat of strength her hands had stiffened +and grown almost useless, and the hall was strewn with +snow. It was every evident that there was something for +her to do. It cost her three or four minutes to slip on a +blanket skirt, and soft hide moccasins, with gum boots over +them. Muffled in her furs, she opened the door again. +When she had contrived to close it, the cold struck through +her to the bone as she floundered towards the team. There +was nobody to whom she could look for assistance, but that +could not be helped. It was evident that some misfortune +had befallen Hastings and that she must act wisely and +quickly. +</p> +<p>The first thing necessary was to unload the sled, and, +though the birches seldom grow to any size in a prairie +bluff, some of the logs were heavy. She was gasping with +the effort when she had flung a few of them down, after +which she discovered that the rest were held up by one +or two stout poles let into sockets. Try as she would, she +could not get them out, and then she remembered that +Hastings kept a whipsaw in a shed close by. She contrived +to find it, and attacked the poles in breathless haste, +working clumsily with mittened hands, until there was a +crash and rattle as she sprang clear. Then she started the +team, and the rest of the logs rolled off into the snow. +</p> +<p>That was one difficulty overcome, but the next appeared +more serious. She must find the bluff as soon as possible, +and in the snow-filled darkness she could not tell where it +lay. Even if she could have seen anything of the kind, +there was no landmark on the desolate level waste between +it and the homestead. She, however, remembered that she +had one guide. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p> +<p>Hastings and his hired man had recently hauled in a +great many loads of birch logs, and as they had made a +well-worn trail it seemed to her just possible that she +might trace it back to the bluff. No great weight of snow +had fallen yet. +</p> +<p>Before Agatha set out she had a struggle with the team, +for the horses evidently had no intention of making another +journey if they could help it, but at last she swung +them into the narrow riband of trail, and plodded away +into the darkness at their heads. It was then that she first +clearly realized what she had undertaken. Very little of +her face was left bare between her fur cap and collar, but +every inch of uncovered skin tingled as if it had been +lashed with thorns or stabbed with innumerable needles. +The air was thick with a fine powder that filled her eyes +and nostrils, the wind buffeted her, and there was an awful +cold—the cold that taxes the utmost strength of mind and +body of those who are forced to face it on the shelterless +prairie. +</p> +<p>Still the girl struggled on, feeling with half-frozen feet +for the depression of the trail, and grappling with a horrible +dismay when she failed to find it. She was never sure +to what extent she guided the team, or how far from mere +force of habit they headed for the bluff, but as the time +went by, and there was nothing before her but the whirling +snow, she grew feverishly apprehensive. The trail was +becoming fainter and fainter, and now and then she could +find no trace of it for several minutes. +</p> +<p>The horses floundered on, blurred shapes as white as the +haze they crept through, and at length she felt that they +were dipping into a hollow. Then a faint sense of comfort +crept into her heart as she remembered that a shallow +ravine which seamed the prairie ran through the bluff. +She called out, and started at the faintness of her voice. +It seemed such a pitifully feeble thing. There was no answer, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +nothing but the soft fall of the horses’ hoofs and the +wail of the wind, but the wind was reassuring, for the volume +of sound suggested that it was driving through a bluff +close by. +</p> +<p>A few minutes later Agatha cried out again, and this +time she felt the throbbing of her heart, for a faint sound +came out of the whirling haze. She pulled the horses up, +and as she stood still listening, a blurred object appeared +almost in front of them. It shambled forward in a curious +manner, stopped, and moved again, and in another moment +or two Hastings lurched by her with a stagger and +sank down into a huddled white heap on the sled. She +turned back towards him, and he seemed to look up at +her. +</p> +<p>“Turn the team,” he said. +</p> +<p>Agatha obeyed, and sat down beside him when the horses +moved on again. +</p> +<p>“A small birch I was chopping fell on me,” he said. +“I don’t know whether it smashed my ankle, or whether +I twisted it wriggling clear—the thing pinned me down. +It is badly hurt anyway.” +</p> +<p>He spoke disconnectedly and hoarsely, as if in pain, and +Agatha, who noticed that one of his gum boots was almost +ripped to pieces, realized part of what he must have suffered. +She knew that nobody pinned to the ground and +helpless could have withstood that cold for more than a +very little while. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she cried, “it must have been dreadful!” +</p> +<p>“I found a branch,” Hastings added. “It helped me, +but I fell over every now and then. Headed for the homestead. +Don’t think I could have made it if you hadn’t +come for me!” He stopped abruptly, and turned to her. +“You mustn’t sit down. Walk—keep warm—but don’t +try to lead the team.” +</p> +<p>Agatha struggled forward as far as the near horse’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +shoulder. The team slightly sheltered her, and it was a +little easier walking with a hand upon a trace. It was a +relief to cling to something, for the wind that flung the +snow into her face drove her garments against her limbs, +so that now and then she could scarcely move. When her +strength began to flag, every yard of the homeward journey +was made with infinite pain and difficulty. At times +she could scarcely see the horses, and again, blinded, +breathless and dazed, she stumbled along beside them. +She did not know how Hastings was faring, but she half-consciously +recognized that if once she let the trace go the +sled would slip away from her and she would sink down to +freeze. +</p> +<p>At last, however, a dim mass crept out of the white haze +ahead, and a moment later a man laid hold of her. The +man told her that Mrs. Hastings was with him, and that +the homestead was close at hand. Agatha learned afterwards +that they had reached the house a short time previously +and had immediately set out in search of her and +Hastings. +</p> +<p>She floundered on beside the horses, with another +team dimly visible in front of her, until a faint ray +of light streamed out into the snow. Then the team +stopped, and she had only a hazy recollection of staggering +into a lighted room in the homestead and sinking into +a chair. What they did with Hastings she did not know, +but Mrs. Hastings, who went with her to her room, kissed +her before she left her. +</p> +<p>Nobody could have faced the snow next morning, and it +was several days later when Watson, who had attended +Hawtrey after his accident, was brought over. Watson +did what he could, but it was several weeks before Hastings +could use his injured foot again. Before Hastings +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +recovered, news was sent him of some difficulty in the affairs +of a small creamery at a settlement further along the +line, in which he and his wife held an interest, and Mrs. +Hastings went East to make inquiries respecting it. She +took Agatha with her, and one evening after she had finished +the business she had in hand they left a little way +station by the Pacific train. +</p> +<p>The car that they entered was empty except for two persons +who sat close together near the middle of it. A big +lamp overhead shed a brilliant light, and Agatha started +when one of their fellow passengers looked around as she +approached him. In another moment she stood face to face +with Hawtrey, who had risen, while Sally gazed up at her +with a curious expression in her eyes. Agatha was perfectly +composed. She felt no sympathy for Hawtrey, who +was visibly confused. She was not surprised that he found +the situation a somewhat difficult one. +</p> +<p>“You have been to Winnipeg?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Hawtrey, with evident relief that she +had chosen a safe topic, “only to Brandon. Sally has +some friends there, and she spends a day or two with them +once or twice each winter. Brandon is quite a lively place +after the prairie. I went in last night to bring her back.” +He turned to his companion, “I think you have met Miss +Ismay?” +</p> +<p>Agatha was conscious that Sally’s eyes were fixed upon +her, and that Mrs. Hastings was watching them all with +quiet amusement, but she was a little astonished when the +girl moved some wraps from the seat opposite her. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, “I have. If Miss Ismay doesn’t mind, +I should like to talk to her.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey’s relief was evident, and Agatha glanced at him +with a smile that was half-contemptuous. He had carefully +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +kept out of her way since he had written her the note, +and now it seemed only natural that if there was anything +to be said, he should leave it to Sally. +</p> +<p>“I think I’ll go along for a smoke,” he observed with +evident impatience to leave them, and he retired precipitately. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings looked after him, and laughed in a manner +that caused Sally to wince. +</p> +<p>“He doesn’t seem anxious to talk to me,” she said. +“You can come along to the next car by and by, Agatha.” +</p> +<p>She moved away, and Agatha, who sat down opposite +Sally, looked at her questioningly. +</p> +<p>“Well?” she said. +</p> +<p>Sally made a little deprecatory gesture. “I’ve something +to say, but it’s hard. To begin with, are you very +angry with me?” +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Agatha. “I think I really am a little +angry with Gregory, but not altogether because he chose +you.” +</p> +<p>Sally considered this statement for a moment or two before +she looked up again. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she confessed, “not long ago, I wanted to hate +you, and I guess I ’most succeeded. It made things easier. +Still, I want to say that I don’t hate you now.” She hesitated +a moment. “I’d like you to forgive me.” +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled. “I can do that willingly,” she said. +</p> +<p>Sally was disconcerted by her quiet ease of manner and +perfect candor. It was evidently not quite what she had +looked for. +</p> +<p>“Then you were never very fond of him?” she suggested. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Agatha reflectively, “since you have +compelled me to say it, I don’t think now that I ever was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +really fond of him, though I don’t know how I can make +that quite clear to you. It was only after I came out here +that I—realized—Gregory. It was not the actual man I +fell in love with in England.” +</p> +<p>Sally turned her face away, for Agatha had made her +meaning perfectly plain. Somewhat to Sally’s astonishment, +she showed no sign of resentment. +</p> +<p>“Then,” Sally responded, “it is way better that you +didn’t marry him.” She paused, and seemed to search +for words with which to express herself. “I knew all along +all there was to know about Gregory—except that he was +going to marry you, and it was some time before I heard +that—and I was ready to take him. I was fond of him.” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s heart went out to her. “Yes,” she said simply, +“it is a very good thing that I let him go.” She +smiled. “That, however, doesn’t quite describe it, Sally.” +</p> +<p>Gregory’s fiancée flushed. “I couldn’t have said that, +but you don’t quite understand yet. I said I knew all +there was to know about him—and you never did. You +made too much of him in England, and when you came +out here you only saw the things you didn’t like in him. +Still, they weren’t the only ones.” +</p> +<p>Agatha started at this statement, for she realized that +part of it was certainly true, and she could admit the possibility +of all of it being a fact. Gregory might possess +a few good qualities that she had never discovered! +</p> +<p>“Perhaps I did,” she admitted. “I don’t think it matters +now.” +</p> +<p>“They’re all of them mixed,” persisted Sally. “One +can’t expect too much, but you can bear with a great deal +when you’re fond of any one.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat silent a while, for she was troubled by a certain +sense of wholesome confusion. It seemed to her that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +Sally had the clearer vision. Love had given her discernment +as well as charity, and, not expecting perfection, it +was the man’s strong points upon which she fixed her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied presently. “I am glad you look at +it that way, Sally.” +</p> +<p>The girl laughed. “Oh!” she said, “I’ve only seen one +man on the prairie who was quite white all through, and +I had a kind of notion that he was fond of you.” +</p> +<p>Agatha sat very still, but it cost her an effort. +</p> +<p>Her face asked the question that was in her heart. +</p> +<p>“Harry Wyllard,” announced Sally. +</p> +<p>Agatha made no answer, and Sally changed the subject. +“Well,” said Sally, “after all, I want you to be friends +with me.” +</p> +<p>“I think you can count on that,” replied Agatha with a +smile, as she rose to rejoin Mrs. Hastings. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_THE_LANDING' id='XXIV_THE_LANDING'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE LANDING</h3> +</div> + +<p>The ice among the inlets on the American side of the +North Pacific broke up unusually early when spring came +round again, and several weeks before Wyllard had expected +it the <i>Selache</i> floated clear. The crew had suffered +little during the bitter winter, for Dampier had kept +the men busy splicing gear and patching sails, and they +had fitted the schooner with a new mainmast hewn out of +a small cedar. None of the sailors had been trained as +carpenters, but men who keep the sea for months in small +vessels are necessarily handy at repairs, and they had all +used ax and saw to some purpose in their time. +</p> +<p>Wyllard was satisfied when they thrashed the <i>Selache</i> +out of the inlet under whole mainsail in a fresh breeze, and +when evening came he sat smoking near the wheel. He +was in a contemplative mood as the climbing forests and +snow-clad heights dropped back astern. He wondered +what his friends were doing upon the prairie, and whether +Agatha had married Gregory yet. It seemed to him that +it was, at least, possible that Agatha was married, for she +was one to keep a promise, and it was difficult to believe +that Gregory would fail to press his claim. Wyllard’s face +grew grim as he thought of it, though this was a thing +he had done more or less constantly during the winter. +He fancied that he might have ousted Gregory if he had +remained at the Range, for perhaps unconsciously Agatha +had shown him that she was not quite indifferent to him; +but that would have been to involve her in a breach of +faith which she would probably always have looked back +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +on with regret. In any case he could not have stayed to +press his suit. He knew that he would never forget her, +but it was not impossible that she might forget him. He +realized also, though this was not by comparison a matter +of great consequence, that the Range was scarcely likely +to prosper under Gregory’s management, but that could +not be helped, and after all he owed Gregory something. +It never occurred to him that he was doing an extravagant +thing in setting out upon the search that he had undertaken. +He felt that the obligation was laid upon him, +and, being what he was, he could not shrink from it. +</p> +<p>A puff of spray that blew into his face disturbed his +meditations, and when a little tumbling sea splashed in +over the weather bow, he helped the others to haul down +a reef in the mainsail. That accomplished, he went below +and brought out a well-worn chart. The <i>Selache</i> drove +away to the westwards over a white-flecked sea. This time +she carried fresh southerly breezes with her most of the +way across the Pacific, and plunged along hove down +under the last piece of canvas they dared to set upon her +until at last they ran into the fog close in to the Kamtchatkan +beaches. Then the wind dropped, and they were +baffled by light and fitful breezes, while it became evident +that there was ice about. +</p> +<p>The day they saw the first big mass of ice gleaming +broad across their course on a raw green sea, Dampier +got an observation, and they held a brief council in the +little cabin that evening. The schooner was hove to then, +and lay rolling with banging blocks and thrashing canvas +on a sluggish heave of sea. +</p> +<p>“Thirty miles off shore,” announced Dampier. “If it +had been clear enough we’d have seen the top of the big +range quite a way further out to sea. Now, it’s drift ice +ahead of us, but it’s quite likely there’s a solid block along +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +the beach. Winter holds on a long while in this country. +I guess you’re for pushing on as fast as you can?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard nodded. “Of course,” he said, “you’ll look +for an opening, and work her in as far as possible. Then, +if it’s necessary, Charly and I and another man will take +the sled and head for the beach across the ice. If there’s +a lane anywhere I would, however, probably take the smallest +boat. We might haul her a league or two, anyway, on +the sled if the ice wasn’t very rough.” +</p> +<p>He looked at Charly, who acquiesced. +</p> +<p>“Well,” Charly observed simply, “I guess I’ll have to +see you through. Now we’ve made a sled for her I’d take +the boat, anyway. We’re quite likely to strike a big +streak of water when the ice is breaking up.” +</p> +<p>“There’s one other course,” declared Dampier; “the +sensible one, and that’s to wait until it has gone altogether. +Seems to me I ought to mention it, though it’s not likely +to appeal to you.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard laughed. “From all appearances we might +wait a month. I don’t want to stay up here any longer +than is strictly necessary.” +</p> +<p>“You’ll head north?” +</p> +<p>“That’s my intention.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” said Dampier, pointing to the chart before +them, “as you should make the beach in the next day or +two I’ll head for the inlet here. As it’s not very far you +won’t have to pack so many provisions along, and I’ll +give you, say, three weeks to turn up in. If you don’t, +I’ll figure that there’s something wrong, and do what +seems advisable.” +</p> +<p>They agreed to that, and when next morning a little +breeze came out of the creeping haze, they sailed the +<i>Selache</i> slowly shorewards among the drifting ice until, at +nightfall, an apparently impenetrable barrier stretched +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +gleaming faintly ahead of them. Wyllard turned in soon +afterwards and slept soundly. All his preparations had +been made during the winter and there was no occasion +for new plans. When morning broke he breakfasted before +he went out on deck. The boat was already packed with +provisions, sleeping-bags, a tent, and two light sled frames, +on one of which it seemed possible that they might haul +her a few miles. She was very light and small, and had +been built for such a purpose as they had in view. +</p> +<p>The schooner lay to with backed fore-staysail tumbling +wildly on a dim, gray sea. Half a mile away the ice +ran back into a dingy haze, and there was a low, gray sky +to weather. Now and then a fine sprinkle of snow slid +across the water before a nipping breeze. As Wyllard +glanced to windward Dampier strode up to him. +</p> +<p>“I guess you’d better put it off,” he said. “I don’t +like the weather; we’ll have wind before long.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled, and Dampier made a forceful gesture. +</p> +<p>“Then,” he advised, “I’d get on to the ice just as +soon as possible. You’re still quite a way off the +beach.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard shook hands with him. “We should make +the inlet in about nine days, and if I don’t turn up in +three weeks you’ll know there’s something wrong,” he +said. “If there’s no sign of me in another week you can +take her home again.” +</p> +<p>Dampier, who made no further comment, bade them +swing the boat over, and when she lay heaving beneath +the rail Wyllard and Charly and one Indian dropped into +her. It was only a preliminary search they were about to +engage in, for they had decided that if they found nothing +they would afterwards push further north or inland when +they had supplied themselves with fresh stores from the +schooner. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<p>They gazed at the <i>Selache</i> with grim faces as they +pulled away, and Wyllard, who loosed his oar a moment +to wave his fur cap when Dampier stood upon her rail, +was glad when a fresher rush of the bitter breeze forced +him to fix his attention on his task. The boat was heavily +loaded, and the tops of the gray seas splashed unpleasantly +close about her gunwale. She was running before +them, rising sharply, and dropping down into the hollows, +out of sight of all but the schooner’s canvas, and +though this made rowing easier, Wyllard was apprehensive +of difficulties when he reached the ice. +</p> +<p>His misgivings proved warranted, for the ice presented +an almost unbroken wall against the face of which the +sea spouted. There was no doubt as to what would happen +if the frail craft was hurled upon that frozen mass, +and Wyllard, who was sculling, fancied that before the +boat could even reach it, there was a probability of +her being swamped in the upheaval where the backwash +met the oncoming sea. Charly looked at him dubiously. +</p> +<p>“It’s a sure thing we can’t get out there,” Charly observed. +</p> +<p>Wyllard nodded. “Then,” he said, “we’ll pull along +the edge of it until we find an opening or something to +make a lee. The sea’s higher than it seemed to be from +the schooner.” +</p> +<p>“We’ve got to do it soon,” Charly declared. “There’s +more wind not far away.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard dipped his oar again, and for an hour they +pulled along the edge of the ice, for there were now little +frothing white tops on the seas. +</p> +<p>It was evident that the wind was freshening, and at +times a deluge of icy water slopped in over the gunwale. +The men were hampered by their furs, and the stores +lying about their feet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p> +<p>The perspiration dripped from Wyllard when they approached +a ragged, jutting point. It did not seem advisable +to attempt a landing on that side of it, and when +a little snow began to fall he looked at his companions. +</p> +<p>“I guess we’ve got to pull her out,” said Charly. +“Dampier’s heaving a reef down; he sees what’s working +up to windward.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard could barely make out the schooner, which had +apparently followed them, a blur of dusky canvas against +a bank of haze, and then as the boat slid down into a hollow +there was nothing but the low-hung, lowering sky. +It was evident to him that if they were to make a landing +it must be done promptly. +</p> +<p>“We’ll pull around the point first, anyway,” he decided. +</p> +<p>A shower of fine snow that blotted out the schooner +broke upon them, and the work was arduous. They were +pulling to windward now, and it was necessary to watch +the seas that ranged up ahead and to handle the boat circumspectly +while the freshening breeze blew the spray over +them. They had to fight for every fathom, and once or +twice the little craft nearly rolled over with them. It +became apparent by degrees that, as they could not have +reached the schooner had they attempted it, they were +pulling for their lives, and that the one way of escape +open to them was to find an egress of some kind around +the point, the ragged tongue of which was horribly +close to lee of them. When the snow cleared for a +minute or two, they saw that Dampier had driven the +<i>Selache</i> further off the ice. The schooner was hove to +now, and there was a black figure high up in her shrouds. +</p> +<p>A bitter rush of wind hurled the spray about them, +and the boat fell off almost beam-on to the sea, in spite +of all that they could do. The icy brine washed into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +the boat, and it seemed almost certain that she would +swamp or roll over before they could get way on her. +Still, pulling desperately, they drove her around the point. +Gasping and dripping they made their last effort. A sea +rolled up ahead, and as the boat swung up with it Wyllard +had a momentary glimpse of an opening not far away. +He shouted to his companions, but could not tell whether +they heard and understood him, for after that he was conscious +only of rowing savagely until another sea broke into +the boat and she struck. There was a crash, and she +swung clear with the backwash, with all one side smashed +in. Then she swung in again just beyond a tongue of +ice over which the froth was pouring tumultuously, and +the Indian jumped from the bow. He had the painter +with him, and for half a minute, standing in the foam, +he held the boat somehow, while they hurled a few of the +carefully made-up packages that composed her important +freight as far on to the ice as possible. +</p> +<p>As Wyllard, who seized one sled frame, jumped, the +disabled boat rolled over. He landed on his hands and +knees, but in another moment he was on his feet, and he +and the Indian clutched at Charly, who drove towards +them amid a long wash of foam. They dragged him +clear, and as he stood up dripping without his cap a sudden +haze of snow whirled about them. There was no sign +of the schooner, and they could scarcely see the broken ice +some sixty yards away. They had made the landing, wet +through, with about half their stores, and it was evident +that their boat would not carry them across the narrowest +lane of water, even if they could have recovered her. The +sea rumbled along the edge of the ice, and they could +not tell whether the frozen wall extended as far as the +beach. They looked at one another until Wyllard spoke. +</p> +<p>“We have got the hand-sled, and some, at least, of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +things,” he said. “The sooner we start for the beach the +sooner we’ll get there.” +</p> +<p>It was a relief to load the sled, and when that was +done they put themselves into the hide traces and set off +across the ice. Their traveling was arduous work apart +from the hauling of the load, for the ice was rough and +broken, and covered for the most part with softening snow. +They had only gum-boots with soft hide moccasins under +them, for snow-shoes are used only in Eastern Canada, +and it takes one a long while to learn to walk on them. +</p> +<p>Sometimes the three men sank almost knee-deep, sometimes +they slipped and scrambled on uncovered ledges, but +they pushed on with the sled bouncing and sliding unevenly +behind them, until the afternoon had almost gone. +</p> +<p>They set up the wet tent behind a hummock, and +crouched inside it upon a ground-sheet, while Charly +boiled a kettle on the little oil blast stove. The wind +hurled the snow upon the straining canvas, which stood +the buffeting. When they had eaten a simple meal Charly +put the stove out and the darkness was not broken except +when one of them struck a match to light his pipe. They +had but one strip of rubber sheeting between them and the +snow, for the water had gotten into the sleeping bags. +Their clothes dried upon them with the heat of their +bodies. They said nothing for a while, and Wyllard was +half asleep when Charly spoke. +</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking about that boat,” he remarked. +“Though I don’t know that we could have done it, we +ought to have tried to pull her out.” +</p> +<p>“Why?” asked Wyllard. “She’d have been all to +pieces, anyway. +</p> +<p>“I’m figuring it out like this. If Dampier wasn’t up +in the shrouds when we made the landing he’d sent +somebody. We could see him up against the sky, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +we’d be much less clear to him low down with the ice +and the surf about us. Besides, it was snowing quite +fast then. Well, I don’t know what Dampier saw, but +I guess he’d have made out that we hadn’t hauled the +boat up, anyway. The trouble is that with the wind +freshening and it getting thick he’d have to thrash the +schooner out and lie to until it cleared. When he runs +in again it’s quite likely that he’ll find the boat and an +oar or two. Seems to me that’s going to worry him considerable.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard, drowsy as he was, agreed with this view of the +matter. He realized that it would have been quite impossible +for Dampier to send them any assistance, and it +was merely a question whether they should retrace their +steps to the edge of the ice next morning and make him +some signal. Against this there was the strong probability +that he would not run in, if the gale and snow continued, +and the fact that it was desirable to make the +beach as soon as possible in case the ice broke up before +they reached it. What was rather more to the purpose, +Wyllard was quietly determined on pushing on. +</p> +<p>“It can’t be helped,” he said simply. “We’ll start +for the beach as soon as it’s daylight.” +</p> +<p>Charly made no answer, and the brawny, dark-skinned +Siwash, who spoke English reasonably well, merely +grunted. Unless it seemed necessary, he seldom said anything +at all. Bred to the sea, and living on the seal and +salmon, an additional hazard or two or an extra strain on +his tough body did not count for much with him. He had +been accustomed to sleep wet through with icy water, +and to crouch for hours with numbed hands clenched on +the steering-paddle while the long sea canoe scudded furiously +over the big combers before bitter gale or driving +snow. Wyllard, who rolled over, pulled a wet sleeping-bag +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +across him, and after that there was silence in the little +rocking tent. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Charly’s deductions had been proved correct, for when +the breeze freshened Dampier climbed into the shrouds. +He had noticed the ominous blackness to windward, and +he knew what it meant. That was why he had hauled down +a reef in the schooner’s mainsail, and now kept the vessel +out a little from the ice. As the light faded he found it +very difficult to see the boat against the white wash of the +seas that recoiled from the ice, but when the snow was +whirling about him he decided that she was in some peril +unless her crew could pull her around the point. It was +evident that this would be a difficult matter, though he +had only an occasional glimpse of her now. He waved an +arm to the helmsman, who understood that he was to run +the schooner in. There was a rattle of blocks as the booms +swung out, and as the <i>Selache</i> sped away before the rapidly +freshening breeze it seemed to Dampier that he saw the +boat hurled upon the ice. A blinding haze of snow suddenly +shut out everything, and the skipper hastened down +to the deck. He stood beside the wheel for several minutes. +Gazing forward, he could see nothing except the filmy +whiteness and the tops of the seas that had steadily been +getting steeper. The schooner was driving furiously down +upon the ice, but it was evident that to send Wyllard any +assistance was utterly beyond his power. He could have +hove to the schooner while he got the bigger boat over, +and two men might have pulled towards the ice with the +breeze astern of them, but it was perfectly clear that they +could have neither made a landing nor have pulled her +back again. It was also uncertain whether he and the +other man could have brought the schooner round or have +gotten more sail off her. He stood still until they heard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +the wash of the sea upon the ice close to lee of them, and +then it was a hard-clenched hand he raised in sign to the +helmsman. +</p> +<p>“On the wind! Haul lee sheets!” he commanded. +</p> +<p>The <i>Selache</i> came round a little, heading off the ice, and +when she drove away with the foam seething white beneath +one depressed rail and the spray whirling high about her +plunging bows, there was a tense look in the white men’s +faces as they gazed into the thickening white haze to lee +of her. They thrashed her out until Dampier decided that +there was sufficient water between him and the ice, and +then stripped most of the sail off her, and she lay to until +next morning, when they once more got sail on her and ran +in again. The breeze had fallen a little, it was rather +clearer, and they picked up the point, though it had somewhat +changed its shape. They got a boat over, and the +two men who went off in her found a few broken planks, +a couple of oars, and Charly’s cap washing up and down +in the surf. They had very little doubt as to what that +meant. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXV_NEWS_OF_DISASTER' id='XXV_NEWS_OF_DISASTER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>NEWS OF DISASTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>When the boat reached the schooner Dampier went off +with one of the men, and with difficulty contrived to make +a landing on the ice only to find it covered with a trackless +sheet of slushy snow. Though Dampier floundered +shorewards a mile or two, there was nothing except the +shattered boat to suggest what had befallen Wyllard +and his companions. The skipper, who retraced his steps +with a heavy heart, retained little hope of seeing them +again. Dampier waited two days until a strong breeze blew +him off the ice, which was rapidly breaking up, and he +then stood out for the open sea, where he hove the <i>Selache</i> +to for a week or so. After that he proceeded northward to +the inlet Wyllard and he had agreed to. +</p> +<p>Dampier was convinced that this was useless, but as the +opening was almost clear of ice he sailed the schooner in, +and spent a week or two scouring the surrounding country. +He found it a desolation, still partly covered with slushy +snow, out of which ridges of volcanic rock rose here and +there. On two of these spots a couple of days’ march from +the schooner, he made a depôt of provisions, and piled a +heap of stones beside them. At times, when it was clear, +he could see the top of a great range high up against the +western sky, but those times were rare. For the most +part, the wilderness was swept by rain or wrapped in +clammy fog. +</p> +<p>There was, however, no sign of Wyllard, and at last +Dampier, coming back jaded and dejected from another +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +fruitless search, after the time agreed upon had expired, +shut himself up alone for a couple of hours in the little +cabin. He was certain now that Wyllard and his companions +had been drowned while attempting to make a landing +on the ice, since they would have joined him at the inlet +as arranged had this not been the case. The distance was +by no means great, and there were no Russian settlements +on that part of the coast. The skipper sat very still with +a clenched hand upon the little table, balancing conjecture +against conjecture, and then regretfully decided that there +was only one course open to him. It was dark when he +went up on deck again, but the men were sitting smoking +about the windlass forward. +</p> +<p>“You can heave some of that cable in, boys,” he announced. +“We’ll clear out for Vancouver at sun-up.” +</p> +<p>The men said nothing, but they shipped the levers, and +Dampier went back to the cabin, for the clank of the +windlass and the ringing of the cable jarred upon him. +</p> +<p>Early next morning the <i>Selache</i> stood out to sea, and +once they had left behind them the fog and rain near the +coast, she carried fine weather with her across the Pacific. +On reaching Vancouver, Dampier had some trouble with +the authorities, to whom it was necessary to report the +drowning of three of his crew, but he was more fortunate +than he expected, and after placing the schooner for sale +with a broker, he left the city one evening on the Atlantic +train. Three days later he was driving across the prairie +towards the Hastings homestead. The members were sitting +together in the big general room after supper, when +the wagon Dampier had hired swung into sight over the +crest of a hill. +</p> +<p>It was a still, hot evening, and, as the windows were +open wide, a faint beat of hoofs came up across the tall +wheat and dusty prairie before the wagon topped the rise. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +Hastings, who sat in a cane chair near the window, with +his pipe in his hand, looked up as he heard it. +</p> +<p>“Somebody driving in,” he remarked. “I shouldn’t be +astonished if it’s Gregory. He talked about coming over +the last time I saw him.” +</p> +<p>“If he wants to talk about a deal in wheat, he can stay +away,” said Mrs. Hastings sharply. “If all one hears is +true, he has lost quite a few of Harry’s dollars on the market +lately.” +</p> +<p>Hastings looked troubled at this. “I’d sooner think it +was his own money he’d thrown away.” +</p> +<p>“That’s quite out of the question. He hasn’t any.” +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Hastings, with an air of reflection, “I’ll +get Sproatly to make inquiries. He’ll probably be along +with Winifred this evening, and if he finds that Gregory +is getting in rather deep I’ll have a word or two with him. +I can’t have him wasting Harry’s money, and, as one of +the executors, I have a right to protest.” +</p> +<p>Agatha started at the last word. It had an ominous +ring, and she fancied that Hastings had noticed the effect +on her, for he glanced at her curiously. Turning from +him, she rose and walked to the window. +</p> +<p>The wheat stretched across the foreground, tall and +darkly green, and beyond it the white grass ran back to +the hill, which cut sharply against a red and smoky glow. +The sun had gone down some time before, and there was +an exhilarating coolness in the air. Somehow the sight +reminded her of another evening, when she had looked out +across the prairie from a seat at Wyllard’s table. Almost +a year had passed since then. +</p> +<p>The wagon drew nearer down the long slope of the hill, +and the beat of hoofs that grew steadily louder in a sharp +staccato made the memories clearer. She had heard Dampier +riding in the night Wyllard had received his summons, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +and now she wondered who the approaching stranger +was, and what his business could be. She did not know +why, but she thought it was not Gregory. +</p> +<p>Presently Hastings looked round again. “It’s the team +Bramfield hires out at the settlement,” he said. “None +of our friends would get him to drive them in. There +seem to be two men in the wagon. Bramfield will be one. +I can’t make out the other.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings, who was evidently becoming curious +about the unexpected guest, went to his side, and they +stood watching the wagon until Agatha made an abrupt +movement. +</p> +<p>“It’s Captain Dampier!” she exclaimed with foreboding +in her voice. +</p> +<p>She stood tensely still, with lips slightly parted, and a +strained look in her eyes, while Hastings gazed at the +wagon for another moment or two. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, and his voice was harsh, “it’s Dampier. +The other man’s surely Bramfield. Harry’s not with him.” +</p> +<p>He glanced at Agatha, who turned away, and sat down in +the nearest chair. She made no comment, and there was +an oppressive silence, through which the beat of hoofs and +rattle of wheels rang more distinctly. +</p> +<p>It seemed a long time before Dampier came in. He +shook hands with Agatha and Mrs. Hastings diffidently. +</p> +<p>“You remember me?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Of course,” answered Mrs. Hastings, with impatience +in her tone. “Where’s Harry?” +</p> +<p>The skipper spread a hard hand out, and sat down +heavily. +</p> +<p>“That,” he said, “is what I have to tell you. He asked +me to.” +</p> +<p>“He asked you to?” questioned Agatha, and though her +voice was strained there was relief in it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span></p> +<p>Dampier made a gesture, which seemed to beseech her +patience. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “if—anything went wrong—he told me +I was to come here to Mrs. Hastings.” +</p> +<p>Agatha turned her head away, but Mrs. Hastings saw +that she caught her breath before she cried: +</p> +<p>“Then something has gone wrong!” +</p> +<p>“About as wrong as it could.” Dampier met her gaze +gravely. “Wyllard and two other men are drowned.” +</p> +<p>He paused as if watching for words that might soften +the dire meaning of his message, and Mrs. Hastings saw +Agatha shiver. The girl turned slowly around with a +drawn white face. It was, however, Hastings who spoke, +almost sternly. +</p> +<p>“Go on,” he said. +</p> +<p>“I’m to tell you all?” +</p> +<p>This time it was Agatha who broke in. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, with a steadiness that struck the +others as being strained and unnatural, “you must tell us +all.” +</p> +<p>Dampier, who appeared to shrink from his task, began +awkwardly, but he gained coherence and force of expression +as he proceeded. He made them understand something +of the grim resolution which had animated Wyllard. +He pictured, in terse seaman’s words, the little schooner +plunging to windward over long phalanxes of icy seas, or +crawling white with snow through the blinding fog. His +listeners saw the big combers tumbling ready to break short +upon the dipping bows, and half-frozen men struggling +for dear life with folds of madly thrashing sail. The pictures +were necessarily somewhat blurred and hazy, for +after all only an epic poet could fittingly describe the +things that must be done and borne at sea, and epic poets +are not bred in the forecastle. When he reached the last +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +scene he gained dramatic power, and Agatha’s face grew +white and tense. She saw the dim figures pulling the boat +through the flying spray beneath the wall of ice. +</p> +<p>“We ran her in,” he told them, “with the snow blinding +us. It was working up for a heavy blow, and as we’d +have to beat her out we couldn’t take sail off her. We +stood on until we heard the sea along the edge of the ice, +and then there was nothing to do but jam her on the wind +and thrash her clear. There was only a plank or two of +the boat, an oar, and Charly’s cap, when we came back +again!” +</p> +<p>“After all, though the boat was smashed, they might +have gotten out,” Hastings suggested. +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Dampier simply, “it didn’t seem likely. +The ice was sharp and ragged, and there was a long wash +of sea. A man’s not tough enough to stand much of that +kind of hammering.” +</p> +<p>Agatha’s face grew whiter, but Dampier went on again. +</p> +<p>“Anyway,” he said, “they didn’t turn up at the inlet +as we’d fixed, and that decided the thing. If Wyllard had +been alive, he surely would have been there.” +</p> +<p>“Isn’t it just possible that he might have fallen into the +hands of the Russians?” asked Hastings. +</p> +<p>“I naturally thought of that, but so far as the chart +shows there isn’t a settlement within leagues of the spot. +Besides, supposing the Russians had got him, how could +I have helped him? They’d have sent him off in the first +place to one of the bigger settlements in the South, and if +the authorities couldn’t have connected him with any illegal +sealing they’d no doubt have managed to send him +across to Japan by and by. In that case, he’d have gotten +home without any trouble.” +</p> +<p>Dampier paused, and it was significant that he turned +to Agatha with a deprecatory gesture. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p> +<p>“No,” he added, “there was nothing I could do.” +</p> +<p>It was evident that Agatha acquitted him, but she asked +a question. +</p> +<p>“Captain Dampier,” she said, “had you any expectation +of finding those three men when you sailed the second +time?” +</p> +<p>“No,” acknowledged the bronzed sailor, with an impressive +calmness, “I hadn’t any, and I don’t think Wyllard +had either. Still, he meant to make quite certain. +He felt he had to.” +</p> +<p>The skipper gazed at Agatha, and saw comprehension in +her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she observed with an unsteady voice, “and +when you have said that, you could say very little more +of any man.” +</p> +<p>She turned her head away from them, and for a few +moments there was a heavy silence in the room. It cost +the girl a painful effort to sit still, apparently unmoved, +but there was strength in her, and she would not betray +her distress. She felt that her grief must be endured +bravely. It was almost overwhelming, but there was mingled +with it a faint consolatory thrill of pride, for it was +clear that the man who had loved her had done a splendid +thing. He had given all that had been given him—she +knew she would never forget that phrase of his—willingly, +and it seemed to her that the traits with which he had been +endowed were rare and precious ones. She recognized the +steadfast, unflinching courage, and the fine sense of honor +which had sent him out on that forlorn hope. Unyielding +and undismayed he had gone down to death—she felt sure +of that—amid the blinding snow. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings set food before Dampier. By and by +Sproatly and Winifred arrived and they heard the story. +After that Dampier, who had promised to stay with them +a day or two, left Wyllard’s friends for an hour. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p> +<p>“It seems to me you’ll naturally want to talk over +things,” he said; “if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a stroll +across the prairie.” +</p> +<p>He went out, and Hastings looked at each member of +the little group with hasty scrutiny. +</p> +<p>“Harry’s friends are numerous, but we’re, perhaps, the +nearest, and, as Dampier said, we have to consider things,” +he observed, speaking with deliberation. “To begin with, +there’s a certain possibility that he has escaped, after all.” +</p> +<p>He saw the quick movement that Agatha made, and +went on more quickly. +</p> +<p>“Gregory, of course, has control of the Range until we +have proof of Harry’s death, though Wyllard made a proviso +that if there was no word of the party within eighteen +months after he had sailed, or within six months of the +time Dampier had landed him, we could assume it, after +which the will he handed me would take effect. This, it is +evident, leaves Gregory in charge for some months yet, but +it seems to me it’s our duty to see he doesn’t fling away +Harry’s property. I’ve reasons for believing that he has +been doing it lately.” +</p> +<p>He looked at Sproatly, who sat silent a moment or two. +</p> +<p>“I’m rather awkwardly placed,” Sproatly remarked. +“You see, there’s no doubt that I’m indebted to Gregory.” +</p> +<p>Winifred turned to him with impatience in her eyes. +“Then,” she said severely, “you certainly shouldn’t have +been, and it ought to be quite clear that nobody wishes you +to do anything that would hurt him.” She looked at +Hastings. “In case the will takes effect, who does the +property go to?” +</p> +<p>Hastings appeared embarrassed. “That,” he objected, +“is a thing I’m not warranted in telling you now.” +</p> +<p>A suggestive gleam flashed into Winifred’s eyes, but it +vanished and her manner became authoritative when she +turned back to Sproatly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></p> +<p>“Jim,” she said, “you will tell Mr. Hastings all you +know.” +</p> +<p>Sproatly made a gesture of resignation. “After all,” +he admitted, “I think it’s necessary. Gregory, as I’ve told +you already, put a big mortgage on his place, and, in view +of the price of wheat and the state of his crop, it’s evident +that he must have had some difficulty in meeting the interest, +unless—and one or two things suggest this—he paid +it with Harry’s money. Of course, as Harry gave him a +share, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t do this so long +as he does not overdraw that share. There’s no doubt, +however, that he has lost a good deal of money on the +wheat market.” +</p> +<p>“Has he lost any of Harry’s?” Mrs. Hastings asked. +</p> +<p>Sproatly hesitated. “I’m afraid it’s practically certain.” +</p> +<p>Winifred broke in. “Yes,” she asserted, “he has lost +a great deal. Hamilton knows almost everything that’s +going on, and I got it out of him. He’s a friend of Wyllard’s, +and seems vexed with Gregory.” +</p> +<p>The others did not speak for a moment or two, and then +Mrs. Hastings said: +</p> +<p>“Most of us don’t keep much in the bank, and that expedition +must have cost Harry several thousand dollars. +How would Gregory get hold of the money before harvest?” +</p> +<p>“Edmonds, who holds his mortgage, would let him have +it,” Sproatly explained. +</p> +<p>“But wouldn’t he be afraid of Gregory not being able +to pay, if the market went against him?” +</p> +<p>Sproatly looked thoughtful. “The arrangement Wyllard +made with Gregory would, perhaps, give Edmonds a +claim upon the Range if Gregory borrowed any money in +his name. I almost think that’s what the money-lender is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +scheming for. The man’s cunning enough for anything. +I don’t like him.” +</p> +<p>Hastings stood up with an air of resolution. “Yes,” he +said, “I’m afraid you’re quite correct. Anyway, I’ll drive +over in a day or two, and have a talk with Gregory.” +</p> +<p>After that they separated. Hastings strolled away to +join Dampier. +</p> +<p>Sproatly and Winifred walked out on to the prairie. +When they had left the house Sproatly turned to his companion. +</p> +<p>“Why did you insist upon my telling them what I +did?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” answered Winifred, “I had several reasons. +For one thing, when I first came out feeling very forlorn +and friendless, it was Wyllard who sent me to the elevator, +and they really treat me very decently.” +</p> +<p>“They?” repeated Sproatly with resentment in his face. +“If you mean Hamilton, it seems to me that he treats +you with an excess of decency that there’s no occasion for.” +</p> +<p>Winifred laughed. “In any case, he doesn’t drive me +out here every two or three weeks, though”—she glanced +at her companion provokingly—“he once or twice suggested +that he would like to.” +</p> +<p>“I suppose you pointed out his presumption?” +</p> +<p>“No,” confessed Winifred with an air of reflection, “I +didn’t go quite so far as that. After all, the man is my +employer; I had to handle him tactfully.” +</p> +<p>“He won’t be your employer a week after the implement +people open their new depôt,” returned Sproatly resolutely. +“But we’re getting away from the subject. Have +you any more reasons for concerning yourself about what +Gregory does with Wyllard’s property?” +</p> +<p>“I’ve one; I suppose you don’t know who he has left +at least a part of it to?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span></p> +<p>Sproatly started as an idea crept into his mind. +</p> +<p>“I wonder if you’re right,” he said. +</p> +<p>“I feel reasonably sure of it.” Winifred smiled. “In +fact, that’s partly why I don’t want Gregory to throw +any more of Wyllard’s money away. You have done all I +expect from you.” +</p> +<p>“Then Hastings is to go on with the thing?” +</p> +<p>“Hastings,” Winifred assured him, “will fail—just as +you would. This is a matter which requires to be handled +delicately—and effectively.” +</p> +<p>“Then who is going to undertake it?” +</p> +<p>Winifred laughed. “Oh,” she answered, “a woman, +naturally. I’m going back by and by to have a word or +two with Mrs. Hastings.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVI_THE_RESCUE' id='XXVI_THE_RESCUE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>THE RESCUE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Winifred’s suspicions soon were proved correct, for Hastings, +who drove over to the Range a day or two after her +visit, returned home rather disturbed in temper after what +he described as a very unsatisfactory interview with Hawtrey. +</p> +<p>“I couldn’t make the man hear reason,” he informed +Mrs. Hastings. “In fact, he practically told me that the +matter was no concern of mine. I assured him that it +concerned me directly as one of the executors of Harry’s +will, and I’m afraid I afterwards indulged in a few personalities. +I expect that blamed mortgage-broker has got +a very strong hold on him.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings looked thoughtful. “You have never +told me anything about the will.” +</p> +<p>“If I haven’t, it wasn’t for want of prompting,” returned +Hastings dryly. “The will was sealed, and handed +to me by Harry on the express understanding that it was +not to be opened until we had proof that he was dead or +until the six months mentioned had expired. If he turned +up it would, of course, be handed back to him. He made +me promise solemnly that I would not offer the least hint +as to its provisions to anybody.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings indulged in a shrug indicating resignation. +“In that case I suppose I must be content, but he +might have made an exception of—me. Anyway, I think +I see how we can put what appears to be a little necessary +pressure upon Gregory.” She turned again to her husband +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +rather abruptly. “After all, is it worth while for me to +trouble about the thing?” +</p> +<p>Hastings was taken off his guard. “Yes,” he said decidedly, +“if you can put any pressure on Gregory I guess +it would be very desirable to do it as soon as possible.” +</p> +<p>“Then you think that Harry may turn up, after all?” +</p> +<p>“I do,” said Hastings gravely, “I don’t know why. +In any case it’s highly desirable that Gregory shouldn’t +fling his property away.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings smiled. “Well,” she said, “I’ll think +over it. I’ll probably get Agatha to see what she can do +in the first place.” +</p> +<p>She saw a trace of uncertainty in her husband’s face. +</p> +<p>“As you like,” he said. “Something must be done, but +on the whole I’d rather you didn’t trouble Agatha about +the matter. It would be wiser.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings asked no more questions. She believed +that she understood the situation, and she had Agatha’s +interests at heart, for she had grown very fond of the girl. +There was certainly one slight difficulty in the way of +what she meant to do, but she determined to disregard it, +though she admitted that it might, cause Agatha some embarrassment +afterward. When she found the girl alone, +she sat down beside her. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” she said, “I wonder if I may ask whether +you are quite convinced that Harry is dead?” +</p> +<p>She felt that the question was necessary, though it +seemed rather a cruel one. +</p> +<p>“No,” replied Agatha calmly, “I can’t quite bring myself +to believe it.” +</p> +<p>“Then, since you heard what Sproatly said, you would +be willing to do anything that appeared possible to prevent +Gregory throwing Harry’s money away?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Agatha, “I have been thinking about it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +A sparkle of disdainful anger showed in her eyes. “Gregory +seems to have been acting shamefully.” +</p> +<p>“Then as he won’t listen to Allen, we must get Sally +to impress that fact on him.” +</p> +<p>“Sally?” questioned Agatha in evident astonishment. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings smiled. “I don’t think you understand +Sally as well as I do. Of course, like the rest of us, she +falls a long way short of perfection, and—though it’s a +difficult subject—there’s no doubt that her conduct in leading +Gregory on while he was still engaged to you was +hardly quite correct. After all, however, you owe her +something for that.” +</p> +<p>“It isn’t very hard to forgive her for it,” confessed +Agatha. +</p> +<p>“Well, I want you to understand Sally. Right or wrong, +she’s fond of Gregory. Of course, I’ve told you this already, +but I must try to make it clear how that fact bears +upon the business in hand. Sally certainly fought for +him, and there’s no doubt that one could find fault with +several things she did; but the point is that she’s evidently +determined on making the most of him now she has got +him. In some respects, at least, she’s absolutely straight—one +hundred cents to the dollar is what Allen says of +her—and although you might perhaps not have expected +this, I believe it would hurt her horribly to feel that Gregory +was squandering money that didn’t strictly belong to +him.” +</p> +<p>“Then you mean to make her understand what he is +doing?” +</p> +<p>“No,” replied Mrs. Hastings; “I want you to do it. +I’ve reasons for believing that your influence would go +further with her than mine. For one thing, I fancy she +is feeling rather ashamed of herself.” +</p> +<p>Agatha looked thoughtful. She had certainly not credited +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +Sally with possessing any fine sense of honor, but she +was willing to accept Mrs. Hastings’ assurance. +</p> +<p>“The situation,” she pointed out, “is rather a delicate +one. You wish to expose Gregory’s conduct to the girl +he is going to marry, though, as you admit, the explanation +will probably be painful to her. Can’t you understand +that the course suggested is a particularly difficult +and repugnant one—to me?” +</p> +<p>“I’ve no doubt of it,” admitted Mrs. Hastings. “Still, +I believe it must be adopted—for several reasons. In the +first place, I think that if we can pull Gregory up now +we shall save him from involving himself irretrievably. +After all, perhaps, you owe him the effort. Then I think +that we all owe something to Harry, and we can, at least, +endeavor to carry out his wishes. He told what was to be +done with his possessions in a will, and he never could +have anticipated that Gregory would dissipate them as he +is doing.” +</p> +<p>The least reason, as she had foreseen, proved convincing +to Agatha, and she made a sign of concurrence. +</p> +<p>“If you will drive me over I will do what I can,” she +promised. +</p> +<p>Now that she had succeeded, Mrs. Hastings lost no time, +and they set out for the Creighton homestead next day. +Soon after they reached the house she contrived that Sally +should be left alone with Agatha. The two girls stood outside +the house together when Agatha turned to her companion. +</p> +<p>“Sally,” she said, “there is something that I must tell +you.” +</p> +<p>Sally glanced at her face, and then walked forward until +the log barn hid them from the house. She sat down upon +a pile of straw and motioned to Agatha to take a place beside +her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span></p> +<p>“Now,” she observed sharply, “you can go on; it’s +about Gregory, I suppose.” +</p> +<p>Agatha, who found it very difficult to begin, though she +had been well primed by Hastings on the previous evening, +sat down in the straw, and looked about her for a +moment or two. It was a hot afternoon, dazzlingly bright, +and almost breathlessly still. In front of her the dark +green wheat rolled waist-high, and beyond it the vast sweep +of grass stretched back to the sky-line. Far away a team +and a wagon slowly moved across the prairie, but that was +the only sign of life, and no sound from the house reached +them to break the heavy stillness. +</p> +<p>She finally nerved herself to the effort, and spoke earnestly +for several minutes before she glanced at Sally. It +was evident that Sally had understood all that had been +said, for she sat very still with a hard, set face. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” Sally exclaimed, “if I’d thought you’d come to +tell me this because you were vexed with me, I’d know what +to do.” +</p> +<p>This was what Agatha had dreaded. It certainly looked +as if she had come to triumph over her rival’s humiliation, +but Sally made it clear that she acquitted her of that intention. +</p> +<p>“Still,” said Sally, “I know that wasn’t the reason, and +I’m not mad with—you. It hurts”—she made an abrupt +movement—“but I know it’s true.” +</p> +<p>She turned to Agatha suddenly. “Why did you do it?” +</p> +<p>“I thought you might save Gregory, if I told you.” +</p> +<p>“That was all?” Sally looked at her with incredulous +eyes. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Agatha simply, “that was only part. +It did not seem right that Gregory should go against Wyllard’s +wishes, and gamble the Range away on the wheat +market.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span></p> +<p>She admitted it without hesitation, for she realized now +exactly what had animated her to seek this painful interview. +She was fighting Wyllard’s battle, and that fact +sustained her. +</p> +<p>Sally winced. “Yes” she agreed, “I guess you had to +tell me. He was fond of you. One could be proud of +that. Harry Wyllard never did anything low down and +mean.” +</p> +<p>Agatha did not resent her candor. Although this was +a thing she would scarcely have credited a little while ago, +she saw that the girl felt the contrast between Gregory’s +character and that of the man whose place he had taken, +and regretted it. Agatha’s eyes became dim with unshed +tears. +</p> +<p>“Wyllard, they think, is dead,” she said, in a low voice. +“You have Gregory still.” +</p> +<p>Sally looked at her with unveiled compassion, and Agatha +did not shrink from it. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she declared, with a simplicity that became her, +“and Gregory must have someone to—take care of him. +I must do it if I can.” +</p> +<p>There was no doubt that Agatha was stirred. This +half-taught girl’s quiet acceptance of the burden that many +women must carry made her almost ashamed. +</p> +<p>“We will leave it to you,” she said. +</p> +<p>It became evident that there was another side to Sally’s +character, for her manner changed, and the hardness crept +back into her face. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she admitted, “I’d ’most been expecting something +of this kind when I heard that man Edmonds was +going to the Range. He has got a pull on Gregory, but +he’s surely not going to feel quite happy when I get hold +of him.” +</p> +<p>She rose in another moment, and saying nothing further, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +walked back toward the house, in front of which they +came upon Mrs. Hastings. Sally looked at Mrs. Hastings +significantly. +</p> +<p>“I’m going over to the Range after supper,” she said. +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings drove away with Agatha. She said little +to the girl during the journey, but an hour after they +had reached the homestead she slipped quietly into Agatha’s +room. She found her reclining in a big chair sobbing +bitterly. She sat down close beside her, and laid a +hand upon her shoulder. +</p> +<p>“I don’t think Sally could have said anything to trouble +you like this,” she said. +</p> +<p>It was a moment or two before Agatha turned a wet, +white face toward her, and saw gentle sympathy in her +eyes. There was, she felt, no cause for reticence. +</p> +<p>“No,” she said, “it was the contrast between us. She +has Gregory.” +</p> +<p>Mrs. Hastings showed sympathy and comprehension. +“And you have lost Harry—but I think you have not lost +him altogether. We do not know that he is dead—but +even if it be so, it was all that was finest in him that he +offered you. It is yours still.” +</p> +<p>She sat silent a moment or two before she went on +again. +</p> +<p>“My dear, it is, perhaps, cold comfort, and I am not +sure that I can make what I feel quite clear. Still, Harry +was only human, and it is almost inevitable that, had it +all turned out differently, he would have said and done +things that would have offended you. Now he has left +you a purged and stainless memory—one, I think, which +must come very near to the reality. The man who went +up there—for an idea, a fantastic point of honor—sloughed +off every taint of the baseness that hampers most of us in +doing it. It was a man changed and uplifted above all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +petty things by a high chivalrous purpose, who made that +last grim journey.” +</p> +<p>Agatha realized the truth of this. Already Wyllard’s +memory had become etherealized, and she treasured it as a +very fine and precious thing. Still, though he now wore +immortal laurels, that would not content her when all her +human nature cried out for his bodily presence. She +wanted him, as she had grown to love him, in the warm, +erring flesh, and the vague, splendid vision was cold and +remote. There was a barrier greater than that of crashing +ice and bitter water between them. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she cried, “I have felt that. I try to feel it +always—but just now it’s not enough.” +</p> +<p>She turned her face away with a bitter sob, and Mrs. +Hastings, who stooped and kissed her, went out of the +room. The older woman knew that the girl had broken +down at last, after months of strain. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>It happened that Edmonds, the mortgage-broker, drove +over to the Range, and found Hawtrey waiting for him in +Wyllard’s room. It was early in the evening, and he could +see the hired men busy outside tossing prairie hay from the +wagons into the great barn. The men were half-naked +and grimed with dust, but Hawtrey, who was dressed in +store clothes, evidently had taken no share in their labors. +When Edmonds came in he turned to the money-lender +with anxiety in his face. +</p> +<p>“Well?” he questioned brusquely. +</p> +<p>“Market’s a little stiffer,” said Edmonds. +</p> +<p>Edmonds sat down and stretched out his hand toward +the cigar-box on the table, while Hawtrey waited with +very evident impatience. +</p> +<p>“Still moving up?” he asked. +</p> +<p>Edmonds nodded. “It’s the other folks’ last stand,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +declared. “With the wheat ripening as it’s doing, the +flood that will pour in before the next two months are out +will sweep them off the market. I was half afraid from +your note that this little rally had some weight with you, +and that as one result of it you meant to cover now.” +</p> +<p>“That,” admitted Hawtrey, “was in my mind.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” remarked his companion, “it’s a pity.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey leaned upon the table with hesitation in his +face and attitude. He had neither the courage nor the +steadfastness to make a gambler, and every fluctuation of +the market swayed him to and fro. He had a good deal +of wheat to deliver by and by, and he could still secure +a very desirable margin if he bought in against his sales +now. Unfortunately, however, he had once or twice lost +heavily in an unexpected rally, and he greatly desired to +recoup himself. Then, he had decided, nothing could +tempt him to take part in another deal. +</p> +<p>“If I hold on and the market stiffens further I’ll be +awkwardly fixed,” he declared. “Wyllard made a will, +and in a few months I’ll have to hand everything over to +his executors. There would naturally be unpleasantness +over a serious shortage.” +</p> +<p>Edmonds smiled. He had handled his man cleverly, +and had now a reasonably secure hold upon him and the +Range, but he was far from satisfied. If Hawtrey made +a further loss he would in all probability become irretrievably +involved. +</p> +<p>“Then,” he pointed out, “there’s every reason why you +should try to get straight.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey admitted it. “Of course,” he said. “You +feel sure I could do it by holding on?” +</p> +<p>Edmonds seldom answered such a question. It was apt +to lead to unpleasantness afterwards. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “Beeman, and Oliphant, and Barstow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +are operating for a fall. One would fancy that you +were safe in doing what they do. When men of their +weight sell forward figures go down.” +</p> +<p>This was correct, as far as it went, but Edmonds was +quite aware that the gentlemen referred to usually played +a very deep and obscure game. He had also reasons for +believing that they were doing it now. It was, however, +evident that Hawtrey’s hesitation was vanishing. +</p> +<p>“It’s a big hazard, but I feel greatly tempted to hang +on,” he said. +</p> +<p>Edmonds, who disregarded his remark, sat smoking +quietly. Since he was tolerably certain as to what the result +would be, he felt that it was now desirable to let Hawtrey +decide for himself, in which case it would be impossible +to reproach him afterwards. Wheat, it seemed very +probable, would fall still further when the harvest began, +but he had reasons for believing that the market would +rally first. In that case Hawtrey, who had sold forward +largely, would fall altogether into his hands, and he looked +forward with very pleasurable anticipation to enforcing +his claim upon the Range. In the meanwhile he was unobtrusively +watching Hawtrey’s face, and it had become +evident that in another moment or two his victim would +adopt the course suggested, when there was a rattle of +wheels outside. Edmonds, who saw a broncho team and a +a wagon appear from behind the barn, realized that he +must decide the matter without delay. +</p> +<p>“As I want to reach Lander’s before it’s dark I’ll have +to get on,” he said carelessly. “If you’ll give me a letter +to the broker, I’ll send it to him.” +</p> +<p>Next moment a clear voice rose somewhere outside. +</p> +<p>“I guess you needn’t worry,” it said, “I’ll go right in.” +</p> +<p>Then Sally walked into the room. +</p> +<p>Edmonds was disconcerted, but bowed, and then sat +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +down again, quietly determined to wait, for he discovered +that there was hostility in the swift glance she flashed at +him. +</p> +<p>“That’s quite a smart team you were driving, Miss +Creighton,” he remarked. +</p> +<p>Sally, who disregarded this, turned to Hawtrey. +</p> +<p>“What’s he doing here?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“He came over on a little matter of business,” answered +Hawtrey. +</p> +<p>“You have been selling wheat again?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey looked embarrassed, for her manner was +not conciliatory. “Well,” he admitted, “I have sold +some.” +</p> +<p>“Wheat you haven’t got?” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey did not answer, and Sally sat down. Her +manner suggested that she meant thoroughly to investigate +the matter, and Edmonds, who would have greatly preferred +to get rid of her, decided that as it appeared impossible +he would appeal to her cupidity. The Creightons +were grasping folk, and he had heard of her engagement +to Hawtrey. +</p> +<p>“If you will permit me I’ll try to explain,” he said. +“We’ll say that you have reason for believing that wheat +will go down and you tell a broker to sell it forward at a +price a little below the actual one. If other people do the +same it drops faster, and before you have to deliver you can +buy it in at less than you sold it at. A great deal of money +can be picked up that way.” +</p> +<p>“It looks easy,” Sally agreed, with something in her +manner which led him to fancy he might win her over. +“Of course, prices have been falling. Gregory has been +selling down?” +</p> +<p>“He has. In fact, there’s already a big margin to his +credit,” declared Edmonds unsuspectingly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></p> +<p>“That is, if he bought in now he’d have cleared—several +thousand dollars?” +</p> +<p>Edmonds told her exactly how much, and then started +in sudden consternation with rage in his heart, for she +turned to Hawtrey imperiously. +</p> +<p>“Then you’ll write your broker to buy in right away,” +she said. +</p> +<p>There was an awkward silence, during which the two +men looked at each other until Edmonds spoke. +</p> +<p>“Are you wise in suggesting this, Miss Creighton?” he +asked. +</p> +<p>Sally laughed harshly. “Oh, yes,” she replied, “it’s a +sure thing. And I don’t suggest. I tell him to get it +done.” +</p> +<p>She turned again to Hawtrey, who sat very still looking +at her with a flush in his face. “Take your pen and give +him that letter to the broker now.” +</p> +<p>There was this in her favor that Hawtrey was to some +extent relieved by her persistence. He had not the courage +to make a successful speculator, and he had already +felt uneasy about the hazard that he would incur by waiting. +Besides, although prices had slightly advanced, he +could still secure a reasonable margin if he covered his +sales. In any case, he did as she bade him, and in another +minute or two he handed Edmonds an envelope. +</p> +<p>The broker took it from him without protest, for he was +one who could face defeat. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, with a gesture of resignation, “I’ll +send the thing on. If Miss Creighton will excuse me, I’ll +tell your man to get out my wagon.” +</p> +<p>He went out, and Sally turned to Hawtrey with the color +in her cheeks and a flash in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“It’s Harry Wyllard’s money!” she commented, as she +met his glance with flashing eyes. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVII_IN_THE_WILDERNESS' id='XXVII_IN_THE_WILDERNESS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>IN THE WILDERNESS</h3> +</div> + +<p>A bitter wind was blowing when Wyllard stood outside +the little tent the morning after he had made a landing +on the ice. He was to leeward of the straining canvas which +partly sheltered him, but the raw cold struck through him +to the bone, and he was stiff and sore from his exertions +during the previous day. His joints ached unpleasantly, +and his clothing had not quite dried upon him. He was +conscious of a strong desire to crawl back into the tent +and go to sleep again, but that was one it would clearly +not be wise to indulge in, since they were, he believed, still +some distance off the beach, and the ice might begin to +break up at any moment. It stretched away before him, +seamed by fissures and serrated ridges here and there, for a +few hundred yards, and then was lost in the snow. As he +gazed at it he shrank from the prospect of the journey +through the frozen desolation. +</p> +<p>With a shiver he crawled back into the tent where his +two companions were crouching beside the cooking-lamp. +The feeble light of its sputtering blue flame touched their +faces, which were graver than usual, but Charly looked up +as he came in. +</p> +<p>“Wind’s dropping,” announced Wyllard curtly. +“We’ll start as soon as you have made breakfast. We +must try to reach the beach to-night.” +</p> +<p>Charly made no answer, though the dusky-skinned Siwash +grunted, and in a few more minutes they silently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +commenced their meal, which was promptly finished. They +struck the tent, and packed it with their sleeping-bags and +provisions upon the sled, and then, taking up the traces, +set out across the ice. The light had grown clearer now, +and the snow was thinning, but it still whirled about them, +and lay piled in drawn-out wreaths to lee of every hummock +or ragged ridge. They floundered knee-deep, and in +the softer places the weight upon the traces grew unpleasantly +heavy. That, however, was not a thing any of them +felt the least desire to complain of, and it was indeed a +matter of regret to them that they were not harnessed to +a heavier burden. There was a snow-wrapped desolation +in front of them, and they had lost a number of small +comforts and part of their provisions in making a landing. +Whether the provisions could be replaced they did not +know. +</p> +<p>The small supply of food was an excellent reason for +pushing on as fast as possible, and they stumbled and +floundered forward until late in the afternoon. The ice +became more rugged and broken as they proceeded. The +snow had ceased, but the drifts which stretched across their +path were plentiful, and they were in the midst of one +when it seemed to Wyllard, who was leading, that they were +sinking much deeper than usual. The snow was over the +tops of his long boots, the sled seemed very heavy, and +he could hear his comrades floundering savagely. There +was a cry behind him, and he was jerked suddenly backwards +for a pace or two until he flung himself down at +full length in the snow. After that he was drawn back no +further, but the strain upon the trace became almost insupportable, +and there was still a furious scuffling behind +him. +</p> +<p>In a moment or two, however, the strain slackened, and +looking round, he saw Charly waist-deep in the snow. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +Charly struggled out with difficulty, holding on by the +trace, but the sled had vanished, and it was with grave misgivings +that Wyllard scrambled to his feet. They hauled +with all their might, and after a tense effort, that left +them gasping, dragged the sled back into sight. Part of +its load, however, had been left behind in the yawning hole. +</p> +<p>Charly went back a pace or two cautiously until he once +more sank to the waist, and they had some trouble in dragging +him clear. Then he sat down on the sled, and Wyllard +stood still looking at the holes in the snow. +</p> +<p>“Did you feel anything under you?” he asked at length +in a jarring voice. +</p> +<p>“I didn’t,” said Charly simply. “It was only the trace +saved me from dropping through altogether, but if I’d gone +a little further I’d have been in the water. Kind of snow +bridge over a crevice. We broke it up, and the sled fell +through.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard turned and flung the tent, their sleeping-bags, +and the few packages which had not fallen out of the sled, +after which he hastily opened one or two of them. His +companions looked at them with apprehension in their +eyes until he spoke again. +</p> +<p>“The provisions may last a week or so, if we cut down +rations,” he said. +</p> +<p>He could not remember afterwards whether anybody +suggested it, and he believed that the same idea occurred +to all of them at once, but in another moment or two they +set about undoing the traces from the sled, and making +them secure about their bodies. For half an hour they +made perilous attempt after attempt to recover the lost +provisions, and failed. The snow broke through continuously +beneath the foremost man, but it did not break away +altogether, and they could not tell what lay beneath it when +they had drawn him out of the hole. When it became evident +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +that the attempt was useless, sitting on the sled, they +held a brief council. +</p> +<p>“I guess we don’t want to go back,” said Charly. “It’s +quite likely we’ve crossed a good many of these crevices, +and the snow’s getting soft. Besides, Dampier will have +hauled off and headed for the inlet by now.” +</p> +<p>He spoke quietly, though his face was grave. Pausing +a moment, he waved his hand. “It seems to me,” he +added, “we have got to fetch the inlet while the provisions +last.” +</p> +<p>“Exactly,” agreed Wyllard. “Since the chart shows +a river between us and it, the sooner we start the better. +If the thaw holds, the stream will break up the ice on it.” +</p> +<p>The Indian, who made no suggestion, grunted what appeared +to be concurrence, and they silently set to work to +reload the sled. That done, they took up the traces and +floundered on again into the gathering dimness and a thin +haze of driving snow. Darkness had fallen when they made +camp again, and sat, worn-out and aching in every bone, +about the sputtering lamp inside the little straining tent. +The meal they made was a very frugal one, and they lay +down in the darkness after it, for half their store of oil had +been left behind in the crevice. They spoke seldom, for +the second disaster had almost crushed the courage out of +them, and it was clear to all that it would be only by a +strenuous effort that they could reach the inlet before their +provisions quite ran out. They slept, however, and rising +in a stinging frost next morning set out again on the weary +march, but it was slow traveling, and at noon they left +the tent and poles behind. +</p> +<p>“In another few days,” said Wyllard, “we’ll leave the +sled.” +</p> +<p>They made the beach that afternoon, though the only +sign of it was the fringe of more ragged ice and the white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +slope beyond. A thin haze hung about them heavy with +rime, and they could not see more than a quarter of a mile +ahead. When darkness fell they scraped out a hollow beneath +what seemed to be a snow-covered rock, and sat upon +their sleeping-bags. The cooking-lamp gave little heat. +Having eaten, they huddled close together with part of +their aching bodies upon the sled, but none of them slept +much that night, for the cold was severe. +</p> +<p>The morning broke clear and warmer, and Wyllard, +climbing to the summit of the rock, had a brief glimpse of +the serrated summits of a great white range that rose to +the west and south. It, however, faded like a vision while +he watched it, and turning he looked out across the rolling +wilderness that stretched away to the north. Nothing +broke its gleaming monotony, and there was no sign of +life anywhere in the vast expanse. +</p> +<p>They set out after breakfast, breaking through a thin +crust of snow, which rendered the march almost insuperably +difficult, and they had made a league or two by the +approach of night. The snow had grown softer, and the +thawing surface would not bear the sled, which sank in the +slush beneath. Still, they floundered on for a while after +darkness fell, and then lay down in a hollow. A fine rain +poured down on them. +</p> +<p>Somehow they slept, and, though this was more difficult, +got upon their feet again when morning came, for of +all the hard things the wanderer in rain-swept bush or +frozen wilderness must bear, there is none that tests his +powers more than, in the early dawn, the bracing of himself +for another day of effort. Comfortless as the night’s +lair has been, the jaded body craves for such faint warmth +as it afforded, and further rest; the brain is dull and +heavy, and the aching limbs appear incapable of supporting +the weight on them. Difficulties loom appallingly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +large in the faint creeping light, courage fails, and the will +grows feeble. Wyllard and his companions felt all this, +but it was clear to them that they could not dally, with +their provisions out, and staggering out of camp after a +very scanty meal they hauled the sled through the slush +for an hour or so. Then they had stopped, gasping, and +the Indian slipped out of the traces. +</p> +<p>“We’ve hauled that thing about far enough,” said +Charly, who dropped the traces, too, and slipped away from +the sled. +</p> +<p>Wyllard stood looking at them for a moment or two with +anxious eyes. It was evident that they could haul the +hampering load no further, and he was troubled by an almost +insupportable weariness. +</p> +<p>“In that case,” he said, “you have to decide what you’ll +leave behind.” +</p> +<p>They discussed the subject for some minutes, partly because +it furnished an excuse for sitting upon the sled, +though none of them had much doubt as to the result of +the council. It was unthinkable that they should sacrifice +a scrap of the provisions. Then, when each man had +lashed a light load upon his shoulders with a portion of +the cut-up traces, they set out again, and it rained upon +them heavily all that day. +</p> +<p>During the four following days they were buffeted by a +furious wind, but the temperature had risen, and the snow +was melting fast, and splashing knee-deep through slush +and water they made progress. While he stumbled along +with the pack-straps galling his shoulders, Wyllard was +conscious of little beyond the unceasing pain in his joints +and the leaden heaviness of his limbs. The recollection of +that march haunted him like a horrible nightmare long +afterwards, when each sensation and incident emerged +from the haze of numbing misery. He remembered that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +he stormed at Charly, who lagged behind now and then in +a fit of languid dejection, and that once he fell heavily, +and was sensible of a half-conscious regret that he was still +capable of going on, when the Indian dragged him to his +feet again. They rarely spoke to one another, and noticed +nothing beyond the strip of white waste, through which +uncovered brown patches commenced to break, immediately +in front of them, except when they crossed some low +elevation and looked down upon the stretch of dull gray +water not far away on one hand. The breeze had swept +the ice away, and that was reassuring, because it meant +that Dampier would be at the inlet when they reached it, +though now and then a horrible fear that their strength +would fail them or that their provisions would run out first, +crept in. +</p> +<p>Their faces had grown gaunt and haggard, and each +scanty meal had been cut down to the smallest portion +which would keep life and power of movement within +them. Still, though the weight of it hampered him almost +intolerably, Wyllard clung to the one rifle that they +had saved from the disaster at the landing and a dozen +cartridges. This was a folly about which he and Charly +once had virulent words. +</p> +<p>At last they came to a river which flowed across their +path, and lay down beside it, feeling that the end was not +far away. Except in the eddies and shallows, the ice had +broken up, and the stream swirled by in raging flood, thick +with heavy masses which it had brought down from its +higher reaches. The ice crashed upon the gleaming spurs +that here and there projected from the half-thawed fringe, +and smashed with a harsh crackling among the boulders, +and there was no doubt as to what would befall the stoutest +swimmer who might attempt the passage. So far as Wyllard +afterwards remembered, none of them said anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +when they lay down among the wet stones, but with the +first of the daylight they started up stream. The river was +not a large one, and it seemed just possible that they might +find a means of crossing higher up, though they afterwards +admitted that this was a great deal more than they expected. +</p> +<p>The ground rose sharply, and the stream flowed out of +a deep ravine which they followed. The rocks were of +volcanic origin, and some of them had crumbled into heaps +of ragged débris. The slope of the ravine became a talus +along which it was almost impossible to scramble, and they +were forced back upon the boulders and the half-thawed ice +in the slacker pools. +</p> +<p>They made progress, notwithstanding all the obstacles +in their way, and when evening drew near found a little +clearer space between rock and river. The Indian had +wrenched his knee, and when they stopped to make camp +among the rocks it was some little time before he overtook +them. He said that he had found the tracks of some animal +which he believed had gone up the ravine. What the +beast was he did not know, but he was sure that it was, at +least, large enough to eat, and that appeared to be of the +most importance then. He would not, however, take the +rifle. Nothing could compel him to drag himself another +rod that night, he said, and the others, who had noticed +how he limped, accepted his decision. With an expressionless +face he sat down among the stones, and Charly +decided that it was Wyllard’s part to pick the trail. +</p> +<p>“You could beat me every time at trailing or shooting +when we went ashore on the American side, and I’m +not sorry to let it go at that now,” he said. +</p> +<p>Wyllard smiled grimly. “And I’ve carried this rifle a +week on top of my other load. You can’t shoot when +you’re dead played out.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p> +<p>They called in the Indian and gave the rifle to him. +He gravely pointed to Wyllard. +</p> +<p>Charly grinned for the first time in several days. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he remarked, “in this case I guess I’ve no +objections to let it be as he suggests.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard resignedly took up the rifle and strode wearily +out of camp. There was, he knew, scarcely an hour’s daylight +left, and already the dimness seemed a little more +marked down in the hollow. He, however, found the place +where the Indian had seen the animal’s track, and as +there was a wall of rock on one side, up which he believed +the beast could not scramble, he pushed on up stream beside +the ice. There was nothing to guide him, but he was a +little surprised to feel that his perceptions, which had been +dull and dazed for the last few days, were growing clearer. +He noticed the different sounds the river made, and picked +out the sharp crackle of ice among the stones, though he +had hitherto been conscious only of a hoarse, pulsating +roar. The rocks also took distinctive shapes instead of +looming in blurred masses before his heavy eyes, and he +found himself gazing with strained attention into each +strip of deeper shadow. Still, though he walked cautiously, +there was no sign of any life in the ravine. He +was horribly weary, and now and then he set his lips as +he stumbled noisily among the stones, but he pushed on +beside the water while the deep hollow grew dimmer and +more shadowy. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVIII_THE_UNEXPECTED' id='XXVIII_THE_UNEXPECTED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>THE UNEXPECTED</h3> +</div> + +<p>After a hard tramp Wyllard felt a troublesome dizziness +creeping over him, and he sat down upon a boulder with +the rifle across his knees. He had eaten little in the last +few days, which had been spent in arduous exertion, and +now the leaden weariness which he had fought against +since morning threatened to overcome him. In addition +to this, he was oppressed by a black dejection, which, +though his mind had never been clearer, reacted upon +his failing physical powers, for it was now evident that +he and his companions could not reach the inlet while +their provisions held out. There was no longer any doubt +that he had involved the two faithful men in disaster, and +the knowledge that he had done so was bitter. +</p> +<p>With haggard face he sat gazing up the ravine. Although +he scarcely imagined that either of the others had +expected anything, he shrank from going back as empty-handed +as when he had left them. The light was getting +very dim, but he could still see the ice fringe upon the +pool in front of him, and a mass of rock that rose black +against the creeping dusk not very far away. Beyond it +on the one side there seemed to be a waste of stones amid +which a few wreaths of snow still gleamed lividly. Then +a wall of rock scarcely distinguishable in the shadow shut +in the hollow. +</p> +<p>The hollow was filled with the hoarse roar of the river +and the sharp crash and crackle of stream-driven ice, but +by and by the worn-out man started as he caught another +faint sound which suggested the clink of a displaced stone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +His hands closed hard upon the rifle, but he sat very still, +listening with strained attention until he heard the sound +again. Then a thrill ran through him, for he was quite +certain of it’s meaning. A stone had rolled over higher +up the gorge, and he rose and crept forward, cautiously, +keeping the detached rock between him and the upper +portion of the ravine. Once or twice a stone clattered +noisily beneath his feet, and he stopped for a moment or +two, wondering with tense anxiety whether the sound +could be heard at any distance through the roar of the +river. This was a much more serious business than crawling +through the long grass for a shot at the prairie antelope, +when in ease of success it had seemed scarcely worth +while to pack the tough and stringy venison back to the +homestead. +</p> +<p>By and by he heard the clatter of a displaced stone +again, and this time the sound was so distinct and near +that it puzzled him. The wild creatures of the waste were, +he knew, always alert, and their perception of an approaching +danger was wonderful. It seemed strange that the +beast he was creeping in upon could not hear him, but +he realized that he must face the hazard of detection, since +in another few minutes it would be too dark to shoot. He +had almost reached the rock by this time, and he shifted +his grasp on the rifle, holding it thrust forward in front +of him while crouching low he looked down for a spot on +which to set his foot each time he moved. It would, he +knew, be useless to go any further if a stone turned over +now. He was fortunate, however, and, strung up to +highest tension, he stole into the deeper gloom behind the +rock. +</p> +<p>A little pool ran in close beneath the rock, but it was +covered with ice and slushy snow. Treading cautiously, +he crept across it, and held his breath as he moved out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +from behind the rock. He stopped suddenly, for a man +stood face to face with him scarcely a stone’s throw away. +The stranger’s fur-clad figure cut sharply against a gleaming +back of snow, and he held a gun in his hand. Though +the light had almost gone, it was evident to Wyllard that +he was a white man. +</p> +<p>They stood very still for several seconds gazing at each +other, and then the stranger dropped the butt of his weapon +and called out sharply, uttering words in a tongue that +Wyllard did not recognize. Wyllard did not move and +the man spoke again. What he said was still unintelligible, +but this time Wyllard knew that he was trying German. +When he received only a shake of the head as an +answer, the stranger tried again. This time is was French +that he spoke. +</p> +<p>“You can come forward, comrade,” he said. +</p> +<p>He did not seem to be hostile, and Wyllard, who tossed +his rifle into the hollow of his left arm, moved out a pace +or two to meet him. +</p> +<p>“You are Russian?” he questioned in the language the +other had used, for French is freely spoken in parts of +Canada. +</p> +<p>The man laughed. “That afterwards,” he answered. +</p> +<p>“It is said so. My name is Overweg—Albrecht Overweg. +As to you, it appears you do not understand Russian.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard drew a little nearer, and sat down upon a +boulder. Now that the tension had slackened, his weariness +had once more become almost insupportable, and he +felt that he might need his strength and senses. He was +bewildered by the encounter, for it was certainly astonishing +in that desolate wilderness to fall in with a man who +spoke three civilized languages and wore spectacles. +</p> +<p>“No,” he replied, after a slight pause, “it is almost the +first time I have heard Russian spoken.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></p> +<p>“Ah,” responded the other, “there is a certain significance +in that admission, my friend. May I inquire where +you have come from, and what you are doing here?” +</p> +<p>Wyllard, who had no desire to give him any information +concerning the quest for his lost comrades, pointed towards +the east. +</p> +<p>“That is where I come from. As to my business at +the moment you will excuse me. It is perhaps not a rudeness +to ask what is yours.” +</p> +<p>The stranger laughed. “Caution, it seems, is necessary; +and to the east, where you have pointed, there is only the +sea. I will, however, tell you my business. It is science, +and not”—he seemed to add this with a certain significance—“in +any way connected with the administration of +the country.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard was conscious of a vast relief on hearing this, +but as he was not quite sure that he could believe it, he +felt that prudence was still advisable. In any case, he +could not let the stranger go away until he had learned +whether there were any more white men with him. He +sat still, thinking hard for a moment or two. +</p> +<p>“You have a camp somewhere near?” he asked at +length. +</p> +<p>“Certainly,” replied the man. “You will come back +with me, or shall I come to yours?” +</p> +<p>“There are several of you?” +</p> +<p>“Besides myself, two Kamtchadales.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” said Wyllard, “I will come with you. I have +left two comrades a little further down the ravine. Will +you wait until I bring them?” +</p> +<p>The stranger made a sign of assent, and sitting down +upon a ledge of rock took out a cigar. Wyllard now felt +more sure of him, since it was evident that had he meditated +any treachery he would naturally have preferred him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +to make the visit unattended. In any case, it seemed likely +that he would have something to eat in his camp. +</p> +<p>Wyllard plodded back down the ravine, and when he returned +with his comrades Overweg was still sitting there in +the gathering darkness. He greeted them with a wave of his +hand, and rising, silently led the way up the hollow until +they came in sight of a little tent that glimmered beneath +a rock. There was a light inside the tent and two dusky +figures were silhoueted against the canvas. Overweg drew +the flap back, and the light shone upon his face as he signed +them to enter. Wyllard, standing still a moment, looked +at him steadily, and then, seeing a reassuring smile, +went in. +</p> +<p>Overweg called to one of the Kamtchadales, who came +in and busied himself about the cooking-lamp. The three +famished men sat down with a sense of luxurious content +among the skins that were spread upon the ground sheet. +After the raw cold outside the tent was very snug and +warm. Wyllard said little, however, and Overweg made +no attempt at conversation until the Kamtchadale laid out +a meal, when he watched his guests with a smile while they +ate voraciously. He had stripped off his furs, and with +his knees drawn up sat on one of the skins. He was a +little, plump, round-faced man, with tow-colored hair, and +eyes that gleamed shrewdly behind his spectacles. +</p> +<p>“Shall I open another can?” he asked presently. +</p> +<p>“No,” answered Wyllard. “We owe you thanks +enough already. Provisions are evidently plentiful with +you.” +</p> +<p>Overweg nodded. “I have a base camp two or three +days’ journey back,” he explained. “It is possible that I +shall make a depôt. We brought our stores up from the +south with dog sleds before the snow grew soft, but it is +necessary for me to push on further. My business, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +understand, is the scientific survey; to report upon the +natural resources of the country.” +</p> +<p>He paused, and his manner changed a little when he +went on again. “I have,” he added, “to this extent taken +you into my confidence, and I invite an equal candor. Two +things are evident. You have made a long journey, and +your French is not that one hears in Paris.” +</p> +<p>“First of all,” said Wyllard, “I must ask again, are you +a Russian?” +</p> +<p>Overweg shrugged his shoulders. “My name, which I +have told you, is not Slavonic, and it may be admitted +that I was born in Bavaria. In the meanwhile, it is true +that I have been sent on a mission by the Russian Government.” +</p> +<p>“I wonder,” remarked Wyllard reflectively, “how far +you consider your duty towards your employers goes.” +</p> +<p>Overweg’s eyes twinkled. “It covers all that can be ascertained +about the geological structure and the fauna of +the country, especially the fauna that produce marketable +furs. At present I am not convinced that it goes very +much further.” +</p> +<p>It was clear to Wyllard that he was already in this man’s +hands, since he could not reach the inlet without provisions, +and Overweg could, if he thought fit, send back a +messenger to the Russian authorities. He was one who +could think quickly and make a momentous decision, and +he realized that if he could not win the man’s sympathy +there must be open hostility between them. +</p> +<p>“In that case I think I may tell you what has brought +me here,” he said. “If you have traveled much in Kamtchatka +you can, perhaps, help me. To begin with, I sailed +from Vancouver, in Canada, nearly a year ago.” +</p> +<p>It required some time to make his errand clear, and then +Overweg looked at him with an inscrutable expression. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span></p> +<p>“It is,” said the scientist, “a tale that in these days one +finds some little difficulty in believing. Still, it must be +admitted that I am acquainted with one fact which appears +to substantiate it.” +</p> +<p>As he saw the blood rise to Wyllard’s forehead he broke +off with a laugh. +</p> +<p>“My friend,” he added, “is it permitted to offer you +my felicitations? The men who would attempt a thing +of this kind are, I think, singularly rare.” +</p> +<p>“What is the fact that gives me at least partial credence?” +asked Wyllard, impatiently. +</p> +<p>“There is a Kamtchadale in my base camp who told me +of a place where a white man was buried some distance to +the west of us. He spoke of a second white man, but nobody, +I understand, knows what became of him.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard straightened himself suddenly. “You will +send for that Kamtchadale?” +</p> +<p>“Assuredly. The tale you have told me has stirred my +curiosity. As my path lies west up the river valley, we +can, if it pleases you, go on for a while together.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard, who thanked him, turned to Charly with a sigh +of relief. +</p> +<p>“It seems that we shall not bring those men back, but +I think we may find out where they lie,” he said. +</p> +<p>Charly made no comment, for this was the most he had +expected, and a few minutes later there was silence in the +little tent when the men lay down to sleep among the +skins. +</p> +<p>They started at sunrise next morning, and followed the +river slowly by easy stages until the man sent back to +Overweg’s base camp overtook them with another Kamtchadale. +Then they pushed on still further inland, and it +was a week later when one evening their guide led them +up to a little pile of stones upon a lonely ridge of rock. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +There were two letters very rudely cut on one of the stones, +and Wyllard, who stooped down beside it, took off his cap +when he rose. +</p> +<p>“There’s no doubt that Jake Leslie lies here,” he said. +Looking at Overweg, he asked, “Your man is sure there +was only one white man who buried him?” +</p> +<p>Overweg spoke to the Kamtchadale, who answered: +</p> +<p>“There was only one white man. It seems he went inland +afterwards—at least a year ago.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard turned to Charly, and his face was very grave. +“That makes it certain that two of them have died. There +was one left, and he may be dead by this time.” He made +a forceful gesture. “If one only knew!” +</p> +<p>Charly made no answer. He was not a man of education +or much imagination, but like others of his kind he +had alternately borne many privations in the wilderness, +logging, prospecting, trail-cutting about the remoter +mines, and at sea. As one result of this there crept into +his mind some recognition of what the outcast who lay +at rest beside their feet had had to face—the infinite toil +of the march, the black despair, the blinding snow, and +Arctic frost. He met his leader’s gaze with a look of comprehending +sympathy. +</p> +<p>By what grim efforts and primitive devices their comrade +had clung to life for a time, it seemed probable they +would never know, but they clearly realized that, though +some might call it an illegal raid, or even piracy, it was +a work of mercy this outlaw had undertaken when he was +cast away. In the command to swing the boats over and +face the roaring surf in the darkness of the night he had +heard the clear call of duty, and had fearlessly obeyed. +His obedience had cost him much, but as the man who had +come so far to search for him looked down upon the little +pile of stones there in the desolate wilderness, there awoke +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +within him a sure recognition of the fact that this was not +the end. That, at least, was unthinkable. His comrade, +putting off the half-frozen, suffering flesh, had gone on to +join the immortals with his duty done. +</p> +<p>It was with warmth at his heart and a slight haziness in +his eyes that Wyllard turned away at length, but when he +put on his fur cap again he was more determined than ever +to carry out the search. There were many perils and difficulties +to be faced, but he felt that he must not flinch. +</p> +<p>“One man went inland,” he said to Overweg. “I must +go that way, too.” +</p> +<p>The little spectacled scientist looked at him curiously. +</p> +<p>“Ah,” he replied, “the road your comrade traveled is +a hard one. You have seen what it leads to.” +</p> +<p>Then Wyllard gave another a glimpse of the emotion +that he generally kept hidden deep in him. +</p> +<p>“No,” he said, quietly, “the hard road leads further—where +we do not know—but one feels that the full knowledge +will not bring sorrow when it is some day given to +those who have the courage to follow.” +</p> +<p>Overweg waved a hand as he spoke. “It is not the view +of the materialists, but it is conceivable that the materialists +may be wrong,” he responded. “In this case, however, +it is the concrete and practical we have to grapple +with, my friend. You say you are going inland to search +for that man, and for a while I go that way, but though I +have my base camp there is the question of provisions if +you come with me.” +</p> +<p>They discussed the matter until Wyllard suggested that +he could replace any provisions his companion supplied +him with from the schooner, to which Overweg agreed, +and they afterwards decided to send the Siwash and one +of the Kamtchadales on to the inlet with a letter to Dampier. +The two messengers started next day, when they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span> +found a place where the river was with difficulty fordable, +and the rest pushed on slowly into a broken and rising +country seamed with belts of thin forest here and there. +They held westwards for another week, and then one evening +made their camp among a few stunted, straggling firs. +The temperature had risen in the daytime, but the nights +were cold, and when they had eaten their evening meal +they were glad of the shelter of the tent. A small fire of +resinous branches was sinking into a faintly glowing mass +close outside the canvas. +</p> +<p>The flap was drawn back, and Wyllard, who lay facing +the opening, could see a triangular patch of dim blue sky +with a sharp sickle moon hanging low above a black fir +branch. The night was clear and still, but now and then +among the stunted trees there was a faint elfin sighing that +quickly died away again. While still determined, Wyllard +was moodily discouraged, for they had seen no sign of +human life during the journey, and his reason told him +that he might search for years before he found the bones +of the last survivor of the party. Still, he meant to search +while Overweg was willing to supply him with provisions. +</p> +<p>By and by he saw Charly sharply raise his head and gaze +towards the opening. +</p> +<p>“Did you hear anything outside?” asked Charly. +</p> +<p>“It must be the Kamtchadales,” Wyllard answered. +</p> +<p>“They went back a mile or two to lay some traps.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” said Wyllard, decisively, “it couldn’t have +been anything.” +</p> +<p>Charly did not appear satisfied, and it seemed to Wyllard +that Overweg was also listening, but there was deep +stillness outside now, and he dismissed the matter from +his mind. A few minutes later, however, it seemed to him +that a shadowy form appeared out of the gloom among the +firs and faded into it again. This struck him as very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +curious, since if it had been one of the Kamtchadales he +would have walked straight into camp, but he said nothing +to his companions, and there was silence for a while until +Charly rose softly to his feet. +</p> +<p>“Get out as quietly as you can,” he said, as he slipped +by Wyllard, who crept after him to the entrance. +</p> +<p>When he reached it Wyllard’s voice rang out with a +startling vehemence. +</p> +<p>“Stop right now,” he cried, and after a pause, “Nobody’s +going to hurt you. Walk right ahead.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard felt his heart beat furiously, for a dusky, half-seen +figure materialized out of the gloom, and grew into +sharper form as it drew nearer to the sinking fire. The +thing was wholly unexpected, almost incredible, but it was +clear that the man could understand English, and his face +was white. In another moment Wyllard’s last doubt vanished, +and he sprang forward with a gasp. +</p> +<p>“Lewson—Tom Lewson!” he cried. +</p> +<p>Charly thrust the man inside the tent, and when somebody +lighted a lamp Lewson sat down stupidly and looked +at them. His face was gaunt and almost blackened by exposure +to the frost, his hair was long, and tattered garments +of greasy skins hung about him. There was something +that suggested bewildered incredulity in his eyes. +</p> +<p>“It’s real?” he said, slowly and haltingly. “You have +come at last?” +</p> +<p>They assured him that this was the case. For a moment +or two the man’s face was distorted with a strange look +and he made a hoarse sound in his throat. +</p> +<p>“Lord,” he muttered! “if I’m dreaming I don’t want +to wake.” +</p> +<p>Charly leaned forward and smote him on the shoulder. +</p> +<p>“Shall I hit you like I did that afternoon in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +Thompson House on the Vancouver water front?” he +asked. +</p> +<p>Then the certainty of the thing seemed to dawn upon +the man, for he quivered, and his eyes half closed. After +that he straightened himself with an effort. +</p> +<p>“I should have known, and I think I did,” he said, turning +to Wyllard. “Something seemed to tell me that you +would come for us when you could.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard’s face flushed, but he made no answer, and it +was Charly who asked the next question: +</p> +<p>“The others are dead?” +</p> +<p>Lewson made an expressive gesture. “Hopkins was +drowned in a crevice of the ice. I buried Leslie back yonder.” +</p> +<p>He broke off abruptly, as though speech cost him an effort, +and Wyllard turned to Overweg. +</p> +<p>“This is the last of the men I was looking for,” he announced. +</p> +<p>Overweg quietly nodded. “Then you have my felicitations—but +it might be advisable if you did not tell me +too much,” he remarked. “Afterwards I may be questioned +by those in authority.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIX_CAST_AWAY' id='XXIX_CAST_AWAY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>CAST AWAY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Tom Lewson had been an hour in camp before he began +the story of his wanderings, and at first, lying propped up +on one elbow, with the lamplight on his worn face, he +spoke slowly and with faltering tongue. +</p> +<p>“We broke an oar coming off the beach that night, and +it kind of crippled us,” he said. “Twice the boat nearly +went back again in the surf, and I don’t quite know how +we pulled her off. Anyway, one of us was busy heaving out +the water that broke into her. It was Jake, I think, and +he seemed kind of silly. Once we saw a boat hove up on a +sea, but we lost her in the spray, and a long while after we +saw the schooner. Just then a comber that broke on board +’most hove us over, and when we had dodged the next two +there wasn’t a sign of the schooner. After that we knew +that we were done, and we just tried to keep her head-to +and ease her to the seas.” +</p> +<p>He stopped a moment, and looked around at the others +with troubled eyes, as if trying to marshal uncertain memories. +He was a simple sailorman, who contented himself +with the baldest narrative; still, two of those who heard +him could fill in the things he had not mentioned—the +mad lurching of the half-swamped boat, the tense struggle +with the oars each time a big frothing comber forged out +of the darkness, and the savage desperation of the drenched +and half-frozen men cast away with the roaring surf to lee +of them and their enemies watching upon the hammered +beach. +</p> +<p>“It blew hard that night,” he continued. “Somehow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +our little boat lived through it, but there wasn’t a sign of +the island when morning came—nothing but the combers +and the flying haze! Guess the wind must have shifted a +few points and drove us by the end of it. Then we found +Jake had his head laid open by a sealing club. The sea +was getting longer, and as we were too played out to hold +the boat to it we got her away before it, and somehow she +didn’t roll over. I think it was next day, though it might +have been longer, when we fetched another island. She +just washed up on it, and one of the others pulled me out. +There wasn’t a sign of anybody on the beach, but there +were plenty of skinned holluschickie seals on the slope behind +it, and that was fortunate for us.” +</p> +<p>“You struck nobody on the island?” questioned Wyllard. +</p> +<p>“We didn’t,” Lewson answered simply. “The Russians +must have sent a vessel to take off the killers after the last +drive of the season a day or two before, for the holluschickie +were quite fresh. It was blowing hard and the +surf was getting steep, and the men had left quite a few +of their things behind them. We found the shacks that +the killers lived in, and we made out that winter in one +of them.” +</p> +<p>It occurred to Wyllard that this was a thing very few +men except sealers could have done had they been cast +ashore without stores or tools to face the awful winter of +the North. +</p> +<p>“How did you get through?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Well,” explained Lewson, “we had a rifle, and the +ca’tridges weren’t spoilt. The killers hadn’t taken their +cooking outfit, and by and by we got a walrus in an open +lane among the ice. They’d left some gear behind them, +but we were most of two days cutting and heaving the beast +out with a parbuckle under him. There was no trouble +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +about things keeping in that frost. Besides, we’d the holluschickie +blubber to burn, and there was a half-empty bag +or two of stores in one of the shacks. No, we hadn’t any +great trouble in making out.” +</p> +<p>“You had to stay there until the ice broke up,” Charly +observed. +</p> +<p>“And after. The boat was gone, and we couldn’t get +away. She broke up in the surf, and we burned what we +saved of her. At last a schooner came along, and we hid +out across the island until she’d gone away. It was blowing +fresh, and hazy, and she just shoved a new gang of +killers ashore. There was an Okotsk Russian with them, +but he made no trouble for us. He was white, anyway, +and it kind of seemed to me he didn’t like one of the other +men who got hurt that night on the beach.” +</p> +<p>“Then some of them did get badly hurt?” Wyllard +broke in. +</p> +<p>“Well,” Lewson said, “from what that Russian told us—and +we got to understand each other after a time—one +of the killers had his ribs broke, and it seems that another +would go lame for life. Besides, among other things, there +was a white man got his face quite smashed. I saw him +with his nose flattened way out to starboard, and one eye +canted. He was a boss of some kind. They called him +Smirnoff.” +</p> +<p>Overweg looked up sharply. “Ah,” he commented, +“Smirnoff. A man with an unsavory name. I have +heard of him.” +</p> +<p>“Anyway,” Lewson went on, “we killed seals all the +open season with that Russian, and I’ve no fault to find +with him. In fact, I figure that if he could have fixed it +he’d have left us on the island that winter, but when a +schooner came to take the killers off and collect the skins +Smirnoff was on board of her. That”—an ominous gleam +crept into Lewson’s eyes—“was the real beginning of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span> +trouble. He had us hauled up before him—guess the other +man had to tell him who we were—and when I wouldn’t +answer he slashed me across the face with a dog whip.” +</p> +<p>Lewson clenched a lean brown fist. “Yes” he added, +hoarsely, “I was whipped—but they should have tied my +hands first. It was not my fault I didn’t have that man’s +life. It was ’most a minute before three of them pulled me +off him, and he was considerably worse to look at then.” +</p> +<p>There was silence for a minute or two, and Wyllard, +who felt his own face grow warm, saw the suggestive hardness +in Charly’s eyes. Lewson was gazing out into the +darkness, but the veins were swollen on his forehead and +his whole body had stiffened. +</p> +<p>“We’ll let that go. I can’t think of it,” he said, recovering +his composure. “They put us on board the schooner, +and by and by she ran into a creek on the coast. We were +to be sent somewhere to be dealt with, and we knew what +that meant, with what they had against us. Well, they +went ashore to collect some skins from the Kamtchadales, +and at night we cut the boat adrift. We got off in the +darkness, and if they followed they never trailed us. Guess +they figured we couldn’t make out through the winter that +was coming on.” +</p> +<p>So far the story had been more or less connected and +comprehensible. It laid no great tax on Wyllard’s credulity, +and, indeed, all that Lewson described had come +about very much as Dampier had once or twice suggested; +but it seemed an almost impossible thing that the three +men should have survived during the years that followed. +Lewson, as it happened, never made that matter very clear. +He sat silent for almost a minute before he went on again. +</p> +<p>“We hauled the boat out, and hid her among the rocks, +and after that we fell in with some Kamtchadales going +north,” he said. “They took us along, I don’t know how +far, but they were trapping for furs, and after a time—I think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +it was months after—we got away from them. +Then we fell in with another crowd, and went on further +north with them. They were Koriaks, and we lived with +them a long while—a winter and a summer anyway. It +was more, perhaps—I can’t remember.” +</p> +<p>He broke off with a vague gesture, and sat looking at the +others vacantly with his lean face furrowed. +</p> +<p>“We must have been with them two years—but I don’t +quite know. It was all the same up yonder—ever so far +to the north.” +</p> +<p>It seemed to Wyllard that he had seldom heard anything +more expressive in its way than this sailorman’s brief +and fragmentary description of his life in the wilderness. +He had heard from whaler-skippers a little about the tundra +that fringes the Polar Sea, the vast desolation frozen +hard in summer a few inches below the surface, on which +nothing beyond the mosses ever grew. It was easy to understand +the brain-crushing sameness and monotony of an +existence checkered only by times of dire scarcity on those +lonely shores. +</p> +<p>“How did you live?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“There were the birds in summer, and fish in the rivers. +In winter we killed things in the lanes in the ice, though +there were weeks when we lay about the blubber lamp in +the pits. They made pits and put a roof on them. I don’t +know why we staked there, but Jake had always a notion +that we might get across to Alaska—somehow. We were +way out on the ice one day when Jim fell into a crevice, +and we couldn’t get him out.” +</p> +<p>He stopped, and sat still a while as one dreaming. “I +can’t put things together, but at last we came south, Jake +and I, and struck the Kamtchadales again. We could talk +to them, and one of them told us about a schooner lying in +an inlet by a settlement. The Russians had brought her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +there from the islands, and she must have been a sealer. +Jake figured it was just possible we might run away with +her and push across for the Aleutians or Alaska.” +</p> +<p>Charly looked up suddenly. “She—was—a sealer—Hayson’s +<i>Seminole</i>. I was in Victoria when we heard that +the Russians had seized her.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard turned to Overweg, who nodded when he asked +a question in French. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I believe the vessel lies in the inlet +still. They have used her now and then. It is understood +that they were warranted in seizing her, but I think there +was some diplomatic pressure brought to bear on them, for +they sent her crew home.” +</p> +<p>Lewson went on again. “Food was scarce that season, +and we got ’most nothing in the traps,” he said. “Besides, +there were Russians out prospecting, and that headed us +off. We figured that some of the Kamtchadales who +traded skins to the settlements would put them on our trail. +When we went to look for the boat she’d gone, but we +hadn’t much notion of getting off in her, though another +time—I don’t remember when—we gave two Kamtchadales +messages we’d cut on slips of wood. Sometimes the schooners +stood in along the coast.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard nodded. “Dunton of the <i>Cypress</i> got your +message,” he said. “He was in difficulties then, but he +afterwards sent it me.” +</p> +<p>“Well,” said Lewson, “there isn’t much more to it. We +hung about the beach a while, and then went north before +the winter. Jake played out on the trail. By and by +he had to let up, and in a day or two I buried him.” +</p> +<p>His voice grew hoarse. “After that it didn’t seem to +matter what became of me, but I kept the trail somehow, +and found I couldn’t stay up yonder. That’s why I +started south with some of them before the summer came. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +Now I’m here—talking English—talking with white men—but +it doesn’t seem the same as it should have been—without +the others.” +</p> +<p>He talked no more that night, but Wyllard translated +part of his story for the benefit of Overweg. +</p> +<p>“The thing, it seems incredible,” commented the scientist. +“This man, who has so little to tell, knows things +which would make a trained explorer famous.” +</p> +<p>“It generally happens that way,” said Wyllard. “The +men who know can’t tell.” +</p> +<p>Overweg made a sign of assent, and then changed the +subject. +</p> +<p>“What shall you do now?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“Start for the inlet, where we expect to find the schooner, +at sunrise. I want to say”—Wyllard hesitated—“that +you have laid an obligation on me which I can never repay; +but I can, at least, replace the provisions you have +given me.” +</p> +<p>“That goes for nothing,” declared Overweg, with a smile. +“I have, however, drawn upon my base camp rather heavily, +and should be glad of any stores from the schooner +that you could let me have. The difficulty is that I do not +wish to go too far toward the beach.” +</p> +<p>They arranged a rendezvous a few days’ march from the +inlet, and in another half-hour all of them were fast asleep. +</p> +<p>When the first of the daylight came Wyllard set off +with his two companions, and since it was evident that +Dampier must have now lain in the inlet awaiting them +a considerable time, they marched fast for several days. +Then, to their consternation, they came upon the Siwash +lying beside a river badly lame. It appeared that in climbing +a slippery ridge of rock the knee he had injured had +given way, and he had fallen some distance heavily, after +which the Kamtchadale, finding him helpless, had disappeared +with most of the provisions. None of the party +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span> +ever learned what had become of the faithless courier, but +they realized that the situation was now a rather serious +one. Charly, who looked at Wyllard when he had heard +the Indian’s story, explained it concisely. +</p> +<p>“I’m worrying about the boat we left on the edge of the +ice,” he said. “I’ve had a notion all along it was going +to make trouble. Dampier would see the wreckage when +he ran in, and I guess it would only mean one thing to +him. He’d make quite certain he was right when he didn’t +find us at the inlet.” He paused and pointed towards the +distant sea. “You have got to push right on with Lewson +as fast as you can while I try to bring the Siwash +along.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard started within the next few minutes, and afterward +never quite forgot the strain and stress of that arduous +march. The journey that he had made with Overweg +had been difficult enough, but they had then traversed +rising ground from which most of the melting snow had +drained away. Now, however, as they approached the +more level littoral there were wide tracts of mire and +swamp to be painfully floundered through, while every ravine +and hollow was swept by a frothing torrent, and they +had often to search for hours for a place where it was possible +to cross. To make things worse, they were drenched +with rain half the time, and trails of dingy mist obscured +their path, but they toiled on stubbornly through every +obstacles, though it was only by the tensest effort that Wyllard +kept pace with his companion. The gaunt, long-haired +Lewson seemed proof against physical weariness, +and there was seldom any change in the expression of his +grim, lined face. Now and then Wyllard felt a curious +shrinking as he glanced at Lewson, for his fixed look suggested +what he had borne in the awful solitudes of the +frozen North. +</p> +<p>Slowly, with infinite toil, they crossed the weary leagues, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +lying at night with a single skin between them and the +soil, for they traveled light. Wyllard was limping painfully, +with his boots worn off his feet, when one morning +they came into sight of a low promontory which rose +against a stretch of gray lifeless sea. His heart throbbed +fast as he realized that behind it lay the inlet into which +Dampier had arranged to bring the <i>Selache</i>. He glanced +at Lewson, who said nothing, and they plodded forward +faster than before. +</p> +<p>The misty sun was high in the heavens when they +reached the foot of the steep rise, and Wyllard gasped heavily +as they crept up the ascent. He was making a severe +muscular effort; but it was the nervous tension that +troubled him most, for he knew that he would look down +upon the inlet from the summit. He blamed himself bitterly +for not sending a messenger to Dampier immediately +after he fell in with Overweg. There had certainly been +difficulties in the way, for the increase in the scientist’s +party had made additional packers necessary, and Wyllard +felt that he could not reasonably compel the man who had +succored him to leave behind the camp comforts to which +he had evidently been accustomed. In spite of that, he +had been at fault in not disregarding every objection, and +he realized it now. +</p> +<p>Somehow he kept pace with Lewson, but he closed one +hand tight as he neared the top of the promontory. When +he reached the summit he stopped suddenly, and his face +set hard as he looked down. Beneath him lay a strip of +dim, green water, with a fringe of soft white surf, while +beyond the beach there stretched away an empty expanse +of slowly heaving sea. There was no schooner in the inlet, +no boat upon the beach. +</p> +<p>In another moment or two they went down the slope at +a stumbling run, and then stopped, gasping by the water’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span> +edge, and looked at one another. There were marks in +the sand which showed where a boat had been drawn up +not very long before. The <i>Selache</i> evidently had been +there, and had sailed away again. +</p> +<p>Wyllard sat down limply upon the shingle, for all the +strength seemed suddenly to melt out of him, and it was +several minutes before he looked up. Gazing out at sea, +Lewson was still standing, a shapeless, barbaric figure in +his garments of skins. The hide moccasins he wore had +chafed through, and Wyllard noticed that the blood was +trickling from one of his feet. +</p> +<p>“Well?” Lewson asked harshly. +</p> +<p>Wyllard laid a stern restraint upon himself. Their case +looked desperate, but it must be grappled with. +</p> +<p>“We must go back and meet the rest,” he said. “That +first—what is to come afterwards I don’t quite know.” A +faint gleam of resolution crept into his eyes. “The +schooner the Russians seized lies in an inlet down the +coast.” +</p> +<p>Lewson made a sign of comprehension. “There are +four of us. There will be birds by and by. I can trap +things.” +</p> +<p>He flung himself down near his comrade, and for an +hour neither of them spoke. Wyllard was worn out physically +and limp from the last few hours’ mental strain, +while Lewson very seldom said more than was absolutely +necessary. They made a very frugal meal, and long afterwards +Wyllard was haunted by the memory of that dreary +afternoon during which he lay upon the shingle watching +the slow pulsations of the dim, lifeless sea. +</p> +<p>They set out again early next morning, and, as it happened, +found a little depôt of provisions that Dampier had +made, but it was several days before they met Charly and +the Indian, and another week had passed before Overweg +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span> +reached the appointed meeting-place. The scientist listened +to Wyllard’s story gravely, and then appeared to consider. +</p> +<p>“You have some plans?” he asked. +</p> +<p>Wyllard admitted that this was the case, and Overweg +smiled behind his spectacles. +</p> +<p>“It is, perhaps, better that you should not tell me what +they are,” he said. “There is, however, one thing I can +do. You say you left some stores you could not carry at +the depôt, which I will take, for provisions are now not +plentiful with me, but at my base camp there are still a +few things you have not which are almost necessary, and”—he +made a gesture of reassuring significance—“after all, +if I have to go south a little earlier than I intended it is +not a great matter.” +</p> +<p>He wrote on a strip of paper which he handed to Wyllard. +“You will take these, and nothing else. I may add +that Smirnoff is stationed at the inlet where the schooner +lies.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard thanked him, and then looked him in the eyes. +“There is a long journey before us, and you have only +my word that I will take nothing but these things.” +</p> +<p>Overweg nodded quietly. “Yes,” he said, “it is perhaps +permissible to assure you that it is sufficient for me.” +</p> +<p>Little more was said, and in another half-hour Wyllard +and his companions were ready to set out. He and the +little spectacled scientist grasped each other’s hands, and +then Wyllard abruptly turned away. Looking back a few +minutes later, he saw Overweg standing upon the ridge +where he had left him, silhouetted against a low, gray sky. +The scientist raised his cap once, and Wyllard, who answered +him, swung around once more, and strode faster +towards the south. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXX_THE_LAST_EFFORT' id='XXX_THE_LAST_EFFORT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>THE LAST EFFORT</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was after a long and arduous journey which had left its +mark on all of them that Wyllard and his companions, one +lowering evening, lay among the boulders beside a sheltered +inlet waiting for the dusk to fall. They were cramped +and aching, for they had scarcely moved during the last +hour. Their garments were badly tattered, and their half-covered +feet were bleeding. With three knives and one +rifle among them they were a pitiful company to seize a +vessel, but there was resolution in their haggard faces. +</p> +<p>Close in front of them the green water lapped softly +among the stones. The breeze was light off shore, and the +tide, which was just running ebb, rippled against the bows +of a little schooner lying some thirty yards from the bank. +The vessel had been seized for illegal sealing some years +earlier, and it was evident that she had been little used +since then. The paint was peeling from her cracked and +weathered side, her gear was frayed and bleached with +frost and rain, and only very hardpressed men would have +faced the thought of going to sea in her. Wyllard and his +companions were, however, very hardpressed indeed, and +they preferred the hazards of a voyage in the crazy vessel +to falling into the Russians’ hands. It was also clear that +they had no choice. It must be either one thing or the +other. +</p> +<p>Some little distance up stream a low hill cut against the +dingy sky. It shut off all of the upper part of the inlet +which wound in behind it, but Wyllard and his companions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span> +had cautiously climbed the slope earlier in the afternoon, +and, lying flat upon the summit, had looked down upon the +little wooden houses that clustered above the beach. He +had then decided that this part of the inlet would dry out +at about half-ebb, and as the schooner’s boat, which he +meant to seize lay upon the shingle, it was evident that +he must carry out his plans within the next three hours. +</p> +<p>These plans were very simple. There was nobody on +board the schooner, which lay in deeper water, and he believed +that it would be possible to swim off to her and slip +the cable; but they must have provisions, and there was, +so far as he could see, only one way of obtaining them. +A building which stood by itself close beside the beach was +evidently a store, for he had seen two men carrying bags +and cases out of it under the superintendence of a third in +some kind of uniform, and it appeared to be unguarded. +Wyllard had reasons for surmising that the store contained +Government supplies, and had arranged that Charly and +Lewson should break into it as soon as darkness fell. They +were to pull off to the schooner with anything they could +find inside. Whether they would succeed in doing this he +did not know, and he admitted to himself that it scarcely +seemed probable, but he could think of no other plan, and +the attempt must be made. +</p> +<p>A thin haze drove across the crest of the hill, the breeze +freshened slightly, and the little ripples lapped more noisily +along the shingle. There was evidently a great deal +of fresh water coming down the inlet, and it was in a fever +of impatience he watched the schooner strain at her cable. +That evening had already seemed the longest he had ever +spent in his life. By and by it began to rain, and little +streams of chilly water trickled about the weary men, but +they lay still, with lips tight set in tense suspense. What +Lewson had had to face in the awful icy wastes to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +north of them Wyllard could scarcely imagine, and Lewson +could not tell, but he and his two other comrades had +borne things almost beyond endurance since he began his +search, and now there was far too much at stake for him +to increase the odds against them by any undue precipitancy. +He was then in a dangerous mood, but he had laid +his plans with grim, cold-blooded caution, and he meant +to adhere to them. +</p> +<p>Very slowly the light faded, until the beach grew shadowy, +and the schooner’s spars and rigging showed dim and +blurred against a dusky background. The rise that shut +off the settlement was lost in drifting haze, and the dull +rumble of the surf on the outer beach came up more sharply +through the gathering darkness. The measured beat of the +tide’s deep pulsations almost maddened Wyllard as he lay +and listened, for if all went right, in an hour or two he +would be sliding out over the long heave with every sail +piled on to the crazy schooner. +</p> +<p>When there was only a faint gleam of water sliding by +below, he rose stiffly to his feet, and Lewson stretched out +a hand for the rifle that lay among the stones. There was +a sharp click as he jerked the lever, and then he laughed, +a little jarring laugh, as the magazine snapped back. +</p> +<p>“They’ll treat us as pirates if they get hands on us—and +I’ve been lashed in the face—with a sled-dog-whip,” +he said. +</p> +<p>Charly made no remark as he loosed the long seaman’s +knife in his belt. Wyllard could not utter a remonstrance, +for there is, as he recognized, a point beyond which prudence +does not count. After what Overweg had once or +twice told him, it was unthinkable that they should fall +into Smirnoff’s hands. +</p> +<p>Lewson and Charly melted away into the darkness. +Wyllard and the Siwash walked quietly down to the water’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span> +edge, a little up-stream of the schooner, as the stream was +running strong. As they waited a few moments before +plunging into the sea they stripped off nothing, for it was +evident that none of the rags they left behind could be replaced, +and they knew from experience that when the first +shock is over a man swimming in icy water is kept a little +warmer by his clothing. For all that, the cold struck +through Wyllard when he flung himself forward and swung +his left hand out. It was perhaps a minute before he was +clearly conscious of anything beyond the physical agony +and the mental effort to retain control of his faculties. +Then he made out the schooner, a vague, blurred shape a +little down-stream, and he swam furiously, his face dipping +under each time his left hand came out. +</p> +<p>He drew level with the vessel, clutched at her cable, a +foot short, and was driven against her bows. The stream +swept him onward, gasping, and clawing savagely at the +slippery side of the schooner, until his fingers found a hold. +It was merely the rounded top of a bolt that he touched, +but with a desperate effort he clutched the bent iron that +led up from it to one of the dead-eyes of the mainmast-shrouds. +He could not, however, draw himself up any further, +and he hung on, wondering when his strength would +fail him. The Siwash, who had crawled up the cable, +leaned down from above and seized his shoulder. In another +moment he reached the rail, and went staggering +across the deck, dripping and half-dazed. +</p> +<p>Action was imperatively necessary, and he braced himself +for the effort. The schooner was lying with her anchor +up-stream, but he did not think it would be possible +to heave her over it and break it out unless he waited until +the others arrived, and it would then be a lengthy and, +what was more to the purpose, a noisy operation. The +anchor must be sacrificed, but there was the difficulty that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span> +in the dark he could hardly expect to find a shackle on the +cable. Running forward with the Siwash, he pulled out a +chain stopper, and then shipping the windlass levers found +with vast relief that it would work. It would make a horribly +distinct clanking, he knew, but that could not be +helped, and the next thing was to discover whether the end +of the chain was made fast below, for it is very seldom that +a skipper finds it necessary to pay out all his cable. +</p> +<p>Dropping into the darkness of the locker beneath the +forecastle, he was more fortunate than he could reasonably +have expected to be, for as he crawled over the rusty links +he felt a shackle. It appeared to be of the usual harp-pattern +with a cottered pin, and he called out sharply to +the Siwash, who presently flung him an iron bar and a big +spike. He struck one of the two or three sulphur matches +he had carefully treasured, and when the sputtering blue +flame went out set to work to back the pin out in the dark. +He smashed his knuckles and badly bruised his hands, but +he succeeded, and knew that he had shortened the chain by +two-thirds now. +</p> +<p>He scrambled up on deck again and hurried aft for +the vessel’s kedge had been laid out astern to prevent her +swinging. There was a heavy hemp warp attached to it, +and it cost them some time to heave most of it over, after +which they proceeded to get the mainsail on to her. It was +covered with a coat, and Wyllard cut himself as he slashed +through the tiers in savage impatience. Then he and the +Siwash toiled at the halliards desperately, for the task of +raising the heavy gaff was almost beyond their powers. +</p> +<p>There was no grease on the mast-hoops; the blocks evidently +had not been used for months. Several times they +desisted a moment or two, gasping, breathless, and utterly +exhausted. Still, foot by foot they got the black canvas up, +and then, leaving the peak hanging, ran forward to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span> +boom-foresail, which was smaller and lighter. They set that, +cast two jibs and the staysail loose, and let them lie. Wyllard +sat down feeling that the thing they had done would, +if attempted in cold blood, have appeared almost impossible. +It was done, however, and now he must wait until +the boat appeared. There was no sign of her, and as he +gazed up the inlet, seeing only the glimmer of the water +and the sliding mist, the suspense became almost intolerable. +Minute after minute slipped by, and still nothing +loomed out of the haze. The canvas rustled and banged +above him, there was a growing splashing beneath the bows, +and the schooner strained more heavily at her cable. +Everything was ready, only his comrades did not appear. +He clenched his hands and set his lips as he waited. He +wondered at the Siwash, who sat upon the rail, a dim, +shapeless figure, impassively still. +</p> +<p>At last his heart leaped, for a faint splash of oars came +out of the darkness. Both men ran forward to the windlass. +The sharp clanking it made drowned the splash of +oars, but in another minute or two there was a crash as +the boat drove alongside, and Charly scrambled up with +a rope while Lewson hurled sundry bags and cases after +him. Then he climbed on deck in turn, and Charly began +a breathless explanation. +</p> +<p>“It’s all we could get. There’s nobody on our trail,” he +said. +</p> +<p>The last fact was most important, and Wyllard cut him +short. “Get the jibs and staysail on to her,” he commanded. +</p> +<p>The new arrivals worked rapidly while the cable clanked +and rattled as the schooner drove astern, but at the first +heave the rotten staysail tore off the hanks, and one jib +burst as they ran it up its stay. For an anxious moment +or two the cable jammed, and the anchor brought the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span> +schooner up. All four flung themselves upon the windlass +levers, and after a furious effort the chain came up again +and ran out faster, fathom by fathom, rattling horribly, +until the end of it shot suddenly over the windlass. Then +there was another check as the schooner brought up by the +kedge swung suddenly across the stream. +</p> +<p>Her banging canvas filled, she listed over, and it was evident +to all of them that if the kedge started she would +forthwith drive ashore. Tense with strain, its warp ripped +out of the water, and she was swinging on it heading for +the beach when Wyllard flung himself upon the wheel. +</p> +<p>“Hang on to every inch or break it!” he roared. “Out +main-boom; box your jib and staysail up to weather!” +</p> +<p>In desperate haste they obeyed orders, amid a great clatter +of blocks and thrashing of canvas, while Wyllard +wrenched up his helm, and the schooner, straining on the +warp, fell away with her bows down-stream. The sweat +of effort dripped from Wyllard when he swung up an arm +to Lewson, who was standing at the bollard to which the +warp was made fast. +</p> +<p>“Now!” he cried hoarsely, “let her go!” +</p> +<p>The rope fell with a splash, the schooner lurched forward +and drove away down the inlet with the stream running +seaward under her, while Wyllard felt a trifle dazed from +sheer revulsion of feeling. The rumble of the surf was +growing louder; the deck slanted slightly beneath him. If +they could keep her off the beach for the next few minutes +there was freedom before them! He hazarded a glance +astern, but could see no sign of a boat up the inlet. They +had done a thing which even then appeared almost incredible. +</p> +<p>The breeze came down fresher, the gurgle at the bows +grew louder, and the deck began to heave with a slow and +regular rise and fall. A long, shadowy point girt about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span> +with spectral surf slipped by, and they were out in open +water. They ran the schooner out for an hour or two and +then, though the peak of the mainsail burst to tatters as +they hauled her on a wind, let her stretch away northward +following the trend of coast. +</p> +<p>“We’ll stand on as she’s lying until we find a creek or +river mouth. We must have water,” Wyllard said. +</p> +<p>An hour later he called Charly to the wheel, and sitting +down in the shelter of the rail, went to sleep, though this +was about the last thing he had contemplated doing. It +was gray dawn when he opened his eyes again, and aching +all over and very cold, stood up to see that the schooner was +tumbling over a spiteful sea with the hazy loom of land not +far away from her. He glanced at the gear and canvas, +and was almost appalled, while Charly, who was busy close +by, saw his face and grinned. +</p> +<p>“You don’t want to look at her too much,” he observed. +“We took a swig on the peak-halliards a little while ago, +and had to let up before we pulled the gaff off her. Boom-foresail’s +worse, and the jibs are dropping off her, while +the water just pours in through her top-sides when she puts +another lee plank down.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made an expressive gesture, and leaned upon +the rail. He realized then something of the nature of the +task he had undertaken. They had no anchor, no fresh +water, no fuel for cooking, and, so far as he was aware, +very few provisions, while it seemed to him that the weathered, +worn-out gear would not hold the masts in the vessel +in any weight of breeze. Still, the thing must be attempted, +and there was one want, at least, that could be +supplied. +</p> +<p>“Anyway,” he said, “we’ll beat her in. When we come +abreast of the first creek you and Tom and the Siwash will +go ashore.” +</p> +<p>It was afternoon when they sighted a little stream, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span> +and they took most of the canvas off the vessel before three +of them pulled away in the boat, leaving Wyllard at the +helm. It was blowing moderately fresh off shore, and it +was with feverish impatience that he watched them toiling +at the oars, two of them pulling while the third man sculled. +They disappeared behind a point, and an anxious hour went +by before the boat, which now showed a very scanty strip +of side above the tumbling foam, crept out from the beach +again. Having no breakers, they had brought the water +off in bulk, sitting in it as they pulled, and it was fortunate +that the boat lurched off shore easily before the little +splashing seas. They lost some of the water before they +hove it into the big rusty tank, and then they held a consultation +when they had swung the boat in and the schooner +was running off to the east again. +</p> +<p>“We’ve about stores enough to last two weeks—that is, +if you don’t expect too much,” Lewson pointed out. +“There’s an American stove in the deck-house, and while +we can’t find anything meant to burn in it there’s an ax +down forward, and we could cut out cabin floorings, or a +beam or two, without taking too much stiffening out of +her.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard, who had inspected the stores, knew that a fortnight +was the very longest that could be counted on, though +they ate no more than would keep a modicum of strength +in them. From their kind and quality he surmised that +the provisions had been intended for the officials in charge +of the settlement. +</p> +<p>“How did you get them, Tom?” he asked. +</p> +<p>“The thing;” said Lewson quietly, “was simple. It +was dark and hazy, and raining quite hard. The first thing +we did was to run the boat down and leave her nearly +afloat. Then we crawled back, and lay by listening outside +that store. We were figuring how we were to break it +in when two men came along. They went in and came out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span> +with a bag or two, and as they left the door open we figured +they were coming back for more. We humped out a +moderate load, and had just got it down to the boat when +we saw those men, or two others, in the haze. I was for +lying by, but Charly would get out then.” +</p> +<p>Charly laughed dryly. “He wanted to take the rifle +and go back to look for Smirnoff. I’d no use for any +trouble of that kind, and I shoved the boat off while he was +seeing how many ca’tridges there were in the magazine. +He waded in and grabbed the boat when he saw I was sure +going, but I shoved her away from him. Then it kind of +struck him he had to get in or swim.” +</p> +<p>Lewson’s expression grew grim. “That’s the thing that +hurts the most—to go away before I got even with that +man,” he declared. “Still, I may get over it if I try to +think of him with his nose smashed hard to starboard.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard made a sign of impatience. He felt that, after +all, there was perhaps something to be said for Smirnoff’s +point of view. +</p> +<p>“There is just one plan open to us, and that’s to drive +the schooner across to the eastward as fast as we can,” he +said. “We might, perhaps, pick up an Alaska C. C. factory +before the provisions quite run out if this breeze and +the gear hold up. Failing that, we must try for one of the +Western Aleutians.” +</p> +<p>The others concurred in this, and very fortunately the +breeze kept to the west and south, for Wyllard had very +grave doubts as to whether he could have thrashed the +schooner to windward through a steep head sea. Indeed, +on looking back on that voyage and remembering the state +of the vessel, it seemed to him that he and his companions +had escaped as by a miracle. In any case, they hove the +vessel to, one misty evening, in a deep inlet behind a promontory, +and Wyllard, who sculled up the inlet alone in the +growing darkness, badly startled the agent of an A.C.C. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span> +factory when he appeared, ragged, haggard, and wet with +rain, in the doorway of a big, stove-warmed room. +</p> +<p>The agent, however, was out for business, but when Wyllard +produced a wad of paper money stained by wet and +perspiration he appeared quite willing to part with certain +provisions. He was told that no questions would be answered, +and when he had given his visitor supper, Wyllard +sculled away in the darkness leaving him none the wiser. +Half an hour later the schooner slipped out to sea again. +</p> +<p>The rest was by comparison easy. They had the coast of +Alaska and British Columbia close aboard, and they crept +southwards in fine weather, once running off their course +when the smoke of a steamer crept up above the horizon. +In a strong breeze, they ran for the northern tongue of +Vancouver Island, and Wyllard, who had already decided +that the vessel would fetch scarcely five hundred dollars, +and that it would be better if all trace of her disappeared, +pulled his wheel over suddenly as she was scraping by a +surf-swept reef. +</p> +<p>In another minute she was on hard and fast, and they +had scarcely got the boat over when the masts went with a +crash. A quarter of an hour later the wreckage was thrown +up on the beach, and, before they set out on a long march +through the bush, there was very little to be seen of the +vessel. +</p> +<p>Three or four days afterward they reached a little +wooden town, and Wyllard, who slipped into it alone in +the dusk, bought clothing for himself and his companions, +who put it on in the bush. Then they went into the town +together, and slept that night in a hotel. +</p> +<p>Their troubles were over, and, what was more, Wyllard, +who pledged the rest to secrecy, fancied that what had become +of the schooner would remain a mystery. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXI_WYLLARD_COMES_HOME' id='XXXI_WYLLARD_COMES_HOME'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<h3>WYLLARD COMES HOME</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harvest had commenced at the Range, and the clashing +binders were moving through the grain when Hawtrey sat +one afternoon in Wyllard’s room. It was about five +o’clock, and every man belonging to the homestead +was toiling, bare-armed and grimed with dust, among +the yellow oats, but Hawtrey sat at a table gazing with a +troubled face at the litter of papers in front of him. He +wore a white shirt and store clothes, which was distinctly +unusual in case of a Western farmer at harvest time, and +Edmonds, the mortgage-jobber, leaned back in a big chair +quietly watching him. +</p> +<p>Edmonds had called at a singularly inconvenient time, +and Hawtrey was anxious to get rid of him before the arrival +of the guests that he expected. It was Sally’s birthday, +and, since she took pleasure in simple festivities of +any kind, he had arranged to celebrate it at the Range. +He was, however, sufficiently acquainted with the money-lender’s +character to realize that it was most unlikely that +he would take his departure before he had accomplished the +purpose which had brought him there. This was to collect +several thousand dollars. +</p> +<p>It was quite clear to Hawtrey that he was in an unpleasantly +tight place. Edmonds held a bond upon his homestead, +teams and implements as security for a short date +loan, repayment of which was due, and he was to be married +to Sally in a month or so. +</p> +<p>“Can’t you wait a little?” he asked at length. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span></p> +<p>“I’m afraid not,” was the uncompromising reply. +“Money’s tight this fall, and things have gone against me. +Besides, you could pay me off if you wanted to.” +</p> +<p>Edmonds turned toward an open window, and glanced +at the great stretch of yellow grain that ran back across +the prairie. Dusty teams and binders with flashing wooden +arms moved half-hidden along the edge of the vast field, +and the still, clear air was filled with a clash and clatter +and the rustle of flung-out sheaves. +</p> +<p>There was no doubt that money could be raised upon +that harvest field. Indeed, Hawtrey fancied that his companion +would be quite content to take a bond for the delivery +of so many thousand bushels in repayment of the +loan, but while he had already gone further than he had +at one time contemplated doing, this was a course he shrank +from suggesting. After all, the grain was Wyllard’s, and +there was the difficulty that Wyllard might still come back. +If Wyllard failed to return, an absence of another few +months would entitle his executors to consider him dead. +In either case, Hawtrey would be required to account for +his property. +</p> +<p>“No,” he decided, “I can’t take—that way.” +</p> +<p>There was a trace of contempt in the mortgage-jobber’s +smile. “You of course understand just how you’re fixed, +but it seemed to me from that draft of the arrangement +with Wyllard that you have the power to do pretty much +what you like. Anyway, if you gave me a bond on as +much of that grain as would wipe out the loan at the present +figure, it would only mean that you would have Wyllard’s +trustees for creditors instead of me, and it’s probable +that they wouldn’t be as hard upon you as I’m compelled +to be. As things stand, you have got to square up or I +throw your place on the market.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey’s face betrayed his dismay; and Edmonds believed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span> +that he would yield to a little further pressure. +Gregory had not said anything about the mortgage to +Sally, and it would be extremely unpleasant to be turned +out upon the prairie within a month or two of his marriage, +for he could not count upon being left in possession of the +Range much longer. +</p> +<p>“I’m only entitled to handle Wyllard’s money on his account,” +he objected. +</p> +<p>Edmonds appeared to reflect. “So far as I can remember +there was nothing of that kind stated in the draft of +the arrangement. It empowered you to do anything you +thought fit with the money, but it’s altogether your own +affair. I can, of course, get my money back by selling your +homestead, and I must decide if that must be done or not +before I leave.” +</p> +<p>Edmonds had very little doubt as to what the decision +would be. Hawtrey would yield, and afterwards it would +not be difficult to draw him into some unwise speculation +with the object of getting the money back, which he imagined +that Hawtrey would be desperately anxious to do. As +the result of this, he expected to get such a hold upon the +Range that he would be master of the situation when the +property fell into the hands of Wyllard’s trustees. That +Hawtrey would be disgraced as well as ruined naturally +did not count with him. +</p> +<p>Gregory took up one of the papers, and read it through. +Then he rose, and stood leaning on the table while he gazed +at the teams toiling amid the grain. There was wealth +enough yonder to release him from his torturing anxieties, +and after all, he felt, something must turn up before the +reckoning was due. It was not in his nature to face a +crisis, and with him a trouble seemed less formidable if it +could only be put off a little. Edmonds, who knew with +what kind of man he had to deal, said nothing further, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span> +quietly reached out for another cigar. He saw vacillation +in his victim’s manner. +</p> +<p>Meantime, though neither of the men were aware of it, +Sally had alighted from her wagon on the other side of the +house, and two other vehicles were growing larger upon the +sweep of whitened prairie. As she entered the homestead +the girl met Mrs. Nansen, who informed her that Hawtrey +was busy with Edmonds in Wyllard’s room. Sally’s eyes +sparkled when she heard it, and her face grew hard. +</p> +<p>“That man!” she exclaimed. “Well, I guess I’ll go +right in to them.” +</p> +<p>In another minute she opened the door, and answered +the mortgage-jobber’s embarrassed greeting with a frigid +stare. Having had some experience with Sally’s uncompromising +directness, he was inclined to fancy that the +game was up, but he waited calmly. +</p> +<p>“What’s this man doing here again?” Sally asked, fixing +her eyes on Hawtrey. “You promised me you would +never make another deal with him.” +</p> +<p>Gregory flushed. Had he thought it would be the least +use he would have made some attempt to get Sally out of +the room, but he was unpleasantly sure that unless she was +fully satisfied first it would only result in failure. Driven +to desperation, as he was, he had a half-conscious feeling +that she might provide him with some means of escape. +Sally had certainly saved him once, and, humiliating as +the thought was, he had an idea that she did not expect too +much from him. She might be very angry, but Sally’s +anger was, after all, less difficult to face than Agatha’s +quiet scorn. +</p> +<p>“I haven’t made another deal. It’s—a previous one,” +Gregory explained lamely. +</p> +<p>Sally swung around on Edmonds. “You have come +here for money? You may as well tell me. I won’t leave +you with Gregory until you do.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span></p> +<p>It was quite evident that she would make her promise +good, and Edmonds nodded. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, “about three thousand dollars.” +</p> +<p>“And Gregory can’t pay you?” +</p> +<p>Edmonds thought rapidly, and decided to take a bold +course. He was acquainted with Hawtrey’s habit of putting +things off, and fancied that his debtor would seize +upon the first loophole of escape from an embarrassing situation. +That was why he gave him a lead. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “there is a way in which he could do +it if he wished. He has only to fill in a paper and hand +it to me.” +</p> +<p>Edmonds had not sufficiently counted on Sally’s knowledge +of his victim’s affairs, or her quickness of wit, for +she turned to Hawtrey with a commanding gesture. +</p> +<p>“Where are you going to get three thousand dollars +from?” she asked. +</p> +<p>The blood rushed into Hawtrey’s face, for this was a +thing he could not tell her; but a swift suspicion, flashed +into her mind as she looked at him. +</p> +<p>“Perhaps it could be—raised,” he answered. +</p> +<p>“To pay this mortgage off?” Sally swung round on Edmonds +now, as she questioned him. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he admitted, “he can easily do it.” +</p> +<p>Then the girl turned to Hawtrey. “Gregory,” she said +with harsh incisiveness, “there’s only one way you could +get that money—and it isn’t yours.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey made no reply. He could not meet her gaze, +and when he turned from her she looked back at the mortgage-broker. +</p> +<p>“If you’re gone before I come back there’ll sure be +trouble,” she informed him, and sped swiftly out of the +room. +</p> +<p>Hawtrey sat down limply in his chair, and Edmonds +laughed in a jarring manner. The game was up, but, after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span> +all, if he got his three thousand dollars he could be satisfied, +for one way or another he had already extracted a +great deal of money from Hawtrey. +</p> +<p>“If I were you I’d marry that girl right away,” Edmonds +advised Hawtrey. “You’d be safer if you had her +to look after you.” +</p> +<p>Hawtrey let the jibe pass. For one thing, he felt that +it was warranted, and just then his anxiety was too strong +for anger. +</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, Sally had run out of the house to +meet Hastings, who had just handed his wife down +from their wagon. The girl drew him a pace or two +aside. +</p> +<p>“I’m worried about Gregory,” she said; “he’s in trouble—big +trouble. Somehow we have got to raise three thousand +dollars. Edmonds is inside with him.” +</p> +<p>Hastings did not seem surprised. “Ah!” he said, “I +guess it’s over that mortgage of his. It would be awkward +for you and Gregory if Edmonds took the homestead and +turned him out.” +</p> +<p>Sally’s face grew white, but she met his gaze steadily. +</p> +<p>“Oh,” she replied, “that’s not what I would mind the +most.” +</p> +<p>Hastings reflected a moment or two. He thought that it +was a very difficult admission for the girl to make, and that +she had made it suggested that Hawtrey might become involved +in more serious difficulties. He had also a strong +suspicion of what they were likely to be. +</p> +<p>“Sally,” questioned Hastings quietly, “you are afraid +of Edmonds making him do something you would not +like?” +</p> +<p>Though she did not answer directly, he saw the shame +in the girl’s face, and remembered that he was one of +Wyllard’s trustees. +</p> +<p>“I must raise that money—now—and I don’t know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span> +where to get more than five hundred dollars from. I +might manage that,” she said. +</p> +<p>“Well,” answered Hastings, “you want me to lead you +then, and I’m not sure that I can. Still, if you’ll wait a +few minutes I’ll see what I can do.” +</p> +<p>Sally left him, and he turned to his wife, whose expression +suggested that she had overheard part of what was +said and had guessed the rest. +</p> +<p>“You mean to raise that money? After all, we are +friends of his, and it may save him from letting Edmonds +get his grip upon the Range,” she said. +</p> +<p>Hastings made a sign of reluctant assent. “I don’t +quite know how I can do it personally, in view of the figure +wheat is standing at, and I don’t think much of any +security that Gregory could offer me. Still, there is, perhaps, +a way in which it could be arranged, and it’s one that, +considering everything, is more or less admissible. I think +I’ll wait here for Agatha.” +</p> +<p>Agatha was in the wagon driven by Sproatly. When +Sproatly had helped her and Winifred to alight, Hastings, +who walked to the house with them, drew Agatha into an +unoccupied room. +</p> +<p>“I’m afraid that Gregory’s in rather serious trouble. +Sally seems very anxious about him,” he said. “It’s rather +a delicate subject, but I understand that in a general way +you are on good terms with both of them?” +</p> +<p>Agatha met his embarrassed gaze with a smile. She +knew that what he really wished to discover was whether +she still felt any bitterness against Gregory or blamed him +for pledging himself to Sally. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered, “Sally and I are good friends, and +I am very sorry to hear that Gregory is in any difficulty.” +</p> +<p>Hastings still seemed embarrassed, and she was becoming +puzzled by his manner. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span></p> +<p>“Once upon a time you would have done anything possible +to make things easier for him,” he said. “I wonder +if I might ask if to some extent you have that feeling +still?” +</p> +<p>“Of course. If he is in serious trouble I should be glad +to do anything within my power to help him.” +</p> +<p>“Even if it cost, we will say, about six hundred English +pounds?” +</p> +<p>Agatha gazed at him in bewilderment. +</p> +<p>“There are some twenty dollars in my possession which +your wife handed me not long ago,” she remarked in a puzzled +tone. +</p> +<p>“Still, if you had the money, you would be glad to help +him—and would not regret it afterwards?” +</p> +<p>“No,” asserted Agatha decisively; “if I had the means, +and the need was urgent, I should be glad to do what I +could.” Then she laughed. “I can’t understand in the +least how this is to the purpose.” +</p> +<p>“If you will wait for the next two or three months I +may be able to explain it to you,” replied Hastings. “In +the meanwhile, there are one or two things I have to do.” +</p> +<p>When he left her, Agatha sat still, wondering what he +could have meant, but feeling that she would be willing to +do what she could for Gregory. Hastings’ suggestion that +it was possible that she still cherished any sense of grievance +against him because he was going to marry Sally, +brought a scornful smile to her lips. It was easy to forgive +Gregory that, for she now saw him as he was—shallow, +careless, shiftless, a man without depth of character. He +had a few surface graces, and on occasion a certain half-insolent +forcefulness of manner which in a curious fashion +was almost becoming. There was, however, nothing beneath +the surface. He was, it seemed, quite willing that +a woman should help him out of the trouble in which he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span> +had involved himself, for she had no doubt that Sally had +sent Hastings on his incomprehensible errand. +</p> +<p>Then a clear voice came in through the window, and +turning towards it Agatha discovered that a young lad clad +in blue duck was singing as he drove his binder through +the grain. The song was a simple one which had some +vogue just then upon the prairie, but her eyes grew suddenly +hazy as odd snatches of it reached her through the +beat of hoofs, the clash of the binder’s arms and the rustle +of the flung-out sheaves. +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“My Bonny lies over the ocean,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>My Bonny lies over the sea.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The youth called to his horses, and it was a few moments +before she heard again— +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Bring back my Bonny to me.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>A quiver ran through her as she leaned upon the window +frame. There was a certain pathos in the simple strain, +and she could fancy that the lad, who was clearly English, +as an exile felt it, too. Once more as the jaded horses and +clashing machine grew smaller down the edge of the great +sweep of yellow grain, his voice came faintly up to her with +its haunting thrill of longing and regret— +</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Bring back my Bonny to me.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>This in her case was more than anyone could do, and +as she stood listening a tear splashed upon her closed +hands. The man, by comparison with whom Gregory appeared +a mere lay figure, was in all probability lying still +far up in the solitudes of the frozen North, with his last +grim journey done. This time, however, he had not carried +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span> +her picture with him. Gregory was to blame for that, +and it was the one thing she could not forgive him. +</p> +<p>She leaned against the window for another minute, struggling +with an almost uncontrollable longing, and looking +out upon the sweep of golden wheat and whitened grass +with brimming eyes, until there was a rattle of wheels, and +she saw Edmonds drive away. She heard voices in the +corridor, and it became evident that Hastings was speaking +to his wife. +</p> +<p>“I’ve got rid of the man, and it’s reasonable to expect +that Gregory will keep clear of him after this,” he said. +</p> +<p>“Don’t you mean that Agatha did it?” +</p> +<p>It was Mrs. Hastings who asked the question, and Agatha +became intent as she heard her name. She did not, +however, hear the answer, and Mrs. Hastings spoke again. +</p> +<p>“Allen,” she said, “you don’t keep a secret badly, +though Harry pledged you not to tell. Still, all that caution +was a little unnecessary. It was, of course, just the +kind of thing he would do.” +</p> +<p>“What did he do?” Hastings asked, and Agatha heard +Mrs. Hastings’ soft laugh, for they were just outside the +door now. +</p> +<p>“Left the Range, or most of it, to Agatha in case he +didn’t come back again.” +</p> +<p>They went on, and Agatha, turning from the window, +sat down limply with the blood in her face and her heart +beating fast. Wyllard’s last care, it seemed, had been to +provide for her, and that fact brought her a curious sense +of solace. In an unexplainable fashion it took the bitterest +sting out of her grief, though how far he had succeeded +in his intentions did not seem to matter in the least.. +It was sufficient to know that amid all the haste of his +preparation he had not forgotten her. +</p> +<p>Becoming a little calmer, she understood what had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_352' name='page_352'></a>352</span> +in Hastings’ mind during the interview that had puzzled +her, and was glad that she assured him of her willingness +to sacrifice anything that might be hers if it was needed +to set Gregory free. It was, she felt, what Wyllard would +have done with the money. He had said that Gregory was +a friend of his, and that, she knew, meant a great deal to +him. +</p> +<p>She suddenly realized that she must join the others if +she did not wish her absence to excite comment. Going +out, she came face to face with Sally in the corridor. The +girl stopped, and saw the sympathy in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said impulsively, “I’ve saved him. Edmonds +has gone. Hastings bought him off, and, though I +don’t quite know how, you helped him. He stayed behind +to wait for you.” +</p> +<p>Agatha smiled. The vibrant relief in her companion’s +voice stirred her, and she realized once more that in choosing +this half-taught girl Gregory had acted with a wholly +unusual wisdom. It was with a sense of half-contemptuous +amusement at her own folly that she remembered how +she had once fancied that Gregory was marrying beneath +him. Sally was far from perfect, but in the essentials the +man was not fit to brush her shoes. +</p> +<p>“My dear,” responded Agatha, “I really don’t know +exactly what I—have—done, but if it amounts to anything +it is a pleasure to me.” +</p> +<p>They went together into the big general room where +Gregory was talking to Winifred somewhat volubly. Agatha, +however, judged from his manner that he had, at least, +the grace to feel ashamed of himself. Supper, she heard +Mrs. Nansen say, would be ready very shortly, and feeling +in no mood for general conversation, she sat near a window +looking out across the harvest field until she heard a distant +shout, and saw a wagon appear on the crest of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span> +hill. To her astonishment, two of the binders stopped, +and she saw the men who sprang down from them run to +meet the wagon. In another moment or two more of the +teams stopped, and a faint clamor of cries went up, while +here and there little running figures straggled up the slope. +All the occupants of the room clustered about her at the +window, and Winifred turned to Hastings. +</p> +<p>“What are they shouting for?” she asked. “They are +all crowding about the wagon now.” +</p> +<p>Agatha felt suddenly dazed and dizzy, for she knew what +the answer to that question must be even before Mrs. Hastings +spoke. +</p> +<p>“It’s Harry coming back!” she gasped. +</p> +<p>In another moment they all hastened out of the house, +and Agatha found it scarcely possible to follow them, for +the sudden revulsion of feeling had almost overpowered +her. Still, she reached the door, and saw the wagon drawn +up amid a cluster of struggling men. Presently Wyllard, +whom they surrounded, broke from them. She stood on +the threshold waiting for him, and in the moment of her +exultation a pang smote her as she saw how gaunt and +worn he was. He came straight toward her, apparently +regardless of the others, and, clasping the hands she held +out, drew her into the house. +</p> +<p>“So you have not married Gregory yet?” he questioned, +and laughed triumphantly when he saw the answer in her +shining eyes. +</p> +<p>“No,” she said softly, “it is certain that I will never +marry him.” +</p> +<p>Wyllard drew her back still further with a compelling +grasp. +</p> +<p>“Why?” he asked. +</p> +<p>Agatha looked up at him, and then turned her eyes away. +</p> +<p>“I was waiting for you,” she said simply. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_354' name='page_354'></a>354</span></p> +<p>Then he took her in his arms and kissed her before he +turned, still with her hand in his, to face the others who +were now flocking back to the house. In another moment +they went in together, amid a confused clamor of good +wishes. +</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p><b>Popular Copyright Books</b></p> +<p>AT MODERATE PRICES</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>Any of the following titles can be bought of your</p> +<p>bookseller at the price you paid for this volume</p> +</div> + +<div class='la'> +<p><b>Alternative, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p><b>Angel of Forgiveness, The.</b> By Rosa N. Carey.</p> +<p><b>Angel of Pain, The.</b> By E. F. Benson.</p> +<p><b>Annals of Ann, The.</b> By Kate Trimble Sharber.</p> +<p><b>Battle Ground, The.</b> By Ellen Glasgow.</p> +<p><b>Beau Brocade.</b> By Baroness Orczy.</p> +<p><b>Beechy.</b> By Bettina Von Hutten.</p> +<p><b>Bella Donna.</b> By Robert Hichens.</p> +<p><b>Betrayal, The.</b> By E. 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