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diff --git a/29695-h/29695-h.htm b/29695-h/29695-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b2bc6d --- /dev/null +++ b/29695-h/29695-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12039 @@ +<!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 The Hound From the North, by Ridgwell Cullum.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; 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;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%; font-size: 90%;} + h1 {font-size:1.8em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em;} + h3 {font-size:1.0em;} + hr.p10 {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 10%;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + p.center {text-align: center !important;} + p.cg {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: left; width: 101%;} + p.lalign {text-align: left !important;} + p.ralign {text-align: right !important;} + span.rindent16 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 6.4em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent2 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: right;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hound From The North, by Ridgwell Cullum + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hound From The North + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Illustrator: Charles Livingston Bull + +Release Date: August 15, 2009 [EBook #29695] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>The Hound from the North</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='342' height='475' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“AND EVERY NOW AND THEN IT WOULD CEASE ITS HEALING<br /> +OPERATION TO THROW UP ITS LONG MUZZLE AND<br /> +EMIT ONE OF THOSE DRAWN-OUT HOWLS.”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;margin-top:40px;font-size:2.0em;'>The Hound From<br />The North</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.8em;margin-bottom:20px;'>By RIDGWELL CULLUM</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-variant:small-caps;margin-bottom:10px;'>Author of</p> +<p class='tp' >“In the Brooding Wild,”<br />“The Story of the Foss River Ranch,”<br />“The Law Breakers,” “The Way of the Strong,” Etc.</p> +<div style='margin:40px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>With Frontispiece<br />By CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;margin-bottom:10px;'>Publishers New York</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;font-size:smaller;'>Published by Arrangement with <span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Page Company</span></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:20px;font-size:smaller;'><i>Copyright, 1904</i></p> +<p class='tp' ><span style='font-size:smaller;font-variant:small-caps'>By L. C. Page & Company</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>(INCORPORATED)</p> +<hr class='p10' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;font-size:smaller;'><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>IN THE MOUNTAINS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_IN_THE_MOUNTAINS'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>MR. ZACHARY SMITH</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_MR_ZACHARY_SMITH'>15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>MR. ZACHARY SMITH SMOKES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_MR_ZACHARY_SMITH_SMOKES'>29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>‘YELLOW BOOMING––SLUMP IN GREY’</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_YELLOW_BOOMINGSLUMP_IN_GREY'>46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_THE_RETURN_OF_THE_PRODIGAL'>65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE PROGRESSIVE EUCHRE PARTY</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_THE_PROGRESSIVE_EUCHRE_PARTY'>81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>LESLIE GREY FULFILS HIS DESTINY</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_LESLIE_GREY_FULFILS_HIS_DESTINY'>98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>GREY’S LAST WORDS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_GREYS_LAST_WORDS'>115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>LONELY RANCH AT OWL HOOT</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_LONELY_RANCH_AT_OWL_HOOT'>133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE GRAVEYARD AT OWL HOOT</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_THE_GRAVEYARD_AT_OWL_HOOT'>157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>CANINE VAGARIES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_CANINE_VAGARIES'>181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE BREAKING OF THE STORM</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_THE_BREAKING_OF_THE_STORM'>202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>BLACKMAIL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_BLACKMAIL'>226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A STAB IN THE DARK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_A_STAB_IN_THE_DARK'>240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE MAGGOT AT THE CORE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XV_THE_MAGGOT_AT_THE_CORE'>257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>AN ECHO FROM THE ALASKAN MOUNTAINS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVI_AN_ECHO_FROM_THE_ALASKAN_MOUNTAINS'>273</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE LAST OF LONELY RANCH</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVII_THE_LAST_OF_LONELY_RANCH'>286</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE FOREST DEMON PURSUES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_FOREST_DEMON_PURSUES'>306</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE AVENGER</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIX_THE_AVENGER'>321</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>IN CONCLUSION</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IN_CONCLUSION'>341</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.6em;'><span style='font-size:smaller;'>THE</span> HOUND FROM THE NORTH</p> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_IN_THE_MOUNTAINS' id='CHAPTER_I_IN_THE_MOUNTAINS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>IN THE MOUNTAINS</h3> +</div> +<p>A pallid sun, low, gleaming just over a rampart +of mountain-tops. Sundogs––heralds of stormy +weather––fiercely staring, like sentries, upon either +hand of the mighty sphere of light. Vast glaciers +shimmering jewel-like in the steely light of the semi-Arctic +evening. Black belts of gloomy pinewoods +on the lower slopes of the mountains; the trees +snow-burdened, but black with the darkness of night +in their melancholy depths. The earth white; snow +to the thickness of many feet on all. Life none; not +a beast of the earth, nor a fowl of the air, nor the +hum of an insect. Solitude. Cold––grey, pitiless +cold. Night is approaching.</p> +<p>The hill ranges which backbone the American +continent––the northern extremity of the Rocky +Mountains. The barrier which confronts the traveller +as he journeys from the Yukon Valley to the Alaskan +seaboard. Land where the foot of man but rarely +treads. And mid-winter.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span></div> +<p>But now, in the dying light of day, a man comes +slowly, painfully into the picture. What an atom +in that infinity of awful grandeur. One little life in +all that desert of snow and ice. And what a life. +The poor wretch was swathed in furs; snow-shoes +on his feet, and a long staff lent his drooping figure +support. His whole attitude told its own tale of +exhaustion. But a closer inspection, one glance into +the fierce-burning eyes, which glowered from the +depths of two cavernous sockets, would have added +a sequel of starvation. The eyes had a frenzied look +in them, the look of a man without hope, but with +still that instinct of life burning in his brain. Every +now and again he raised one mitted hand and +pressed it to nose and cheeks. He knew his face +was frozen, but he had no desire to stop to thaw +it out. He was beyond such trifles. His upturned +storm-collar had become massed with icicles about +his mouth, and the fur was frozen solidly to his chin +whisker, but he gave the matter no heed.</p> +<p>The man tottered on, still onward with the dogged +persistence which the inborn love of life inspires. +He longed to rest, to seat himself upon the snow +just where he happened to be, to indulge that craving +for sleep which was upon him. His state of exhaustion +fostered these feelings, and only his brain +fought for him and clung to life. He knew what +that drowsy sensation meant. He was slowly freezing. +To rest meant sleep––to sleep meant death.</p> +<p>Slowly he dragged himself up the inclining ledge +he was traversing. The path was low at the base +of one of the loftiest crags. It wound its way upwards +in such a fashion that he could see little more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +than fifty yards ahead of him ere it turned away to +the left as it skirted the hill. He was using his last +reserve of strength, and he knew it. At the top he +stood half dazed. The mountain rose sheer up to +dizzy heights on one side, and a precipice was on the +other. He turned his dreadful eyes this way and +that. Then he scanned the prospect before him––a +haze of dimly-outlined mountains. He glanced back, +tracing his uneven tracks until they disappeared in +the grey evening light. Then he turned back again +to a contemplation of what lay before him. Suddenly +his staff slipped from his hand as though he no +longer had the strength to grip it. Then, raising his +arms aloft, he gave vent to one despairing cry in which +was expressed all the pent-up agony of his soul. It +was the cry of one from whom all hope had gone.</p> +<p>“God! God have mercy on me! I am lost––lost!”</p> +<p>The despairing note echoed and re-echoed among +the hills. And as each echo came back to his dulled +ears it was as though some invisible being mocked +him. Suddenly he braced himself, and his mind +obtained a momentary triumph over his physical +weakness. He stooped to recover his staff. His +limbs refused to obey his will. He stumbled. Then +he crumpled and fell in a heap upon the snow.</p> +<p>All was silent, and he lay quite still. Death +was gripping him, and he knew it. Presently he +wearily raised his head. He gazed about him with +eyelids more than half closed. “Is it worth the +struggle?” he seemed to ask; “is there any hope?” +He felt so warm, so comfortable out there in the +bitter winter air. Where had been the use of his +efforts? Where the use of the gold he had so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +laboriously collected at the new Eldorado? At the +thought of his gold his spirit tried to rouse him from +the sleep with which he was threatened. His eyelids +opened wide, and his eyes, from which intelligence +was fast disappearing, rolled in their gaunt +sockets. His body heaved as though he were about +to rise, but beyond that he did not move.</p> +<p>As he lay there a sound reached his numbed ears. +Clear through the crisp night air it came with the +keenness and piercing incision which is only obtained +in the still air of such latitudes. It was a human +cry: a long-drawn “whoop.” Like his own cry, it +echoed amongst the hills. It only needed such as +this to support the inclinations of the sufferer’s will. +His head was again raised. And in his wild eyes +was a look of alertness––hope. He listened. He +counted the echoes as they came. Then, with an +almost superhuman effort, he struggled to his feet. +New life had come to him born of hope. His +weakened frame answered to his great effort. His +heart was throbbing wildly.</p> +<p>As he stood up the cry came to him again, nearer +this time. He moved forward and rounded the bend +in the path. Again the cry. Now just ahead of +him. He answered it with joy in his tone and +shambled on. Now two dark figures loomed up in +the grey twilight. They were moving swiftly along +the ledge towards him. They cried out something +in a foreign tongue. He did not understand, but +his joy was no less. They came up, and he saw +before him the short, stout figures of two fur-clad +Eskimos. He was saved.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></div> +<p>Inside a small dugout a dingy oil lamp shed its +murky rays upon squalid surroundings. The place +was reeking with the offensive odours exhaled from +the burning oil. The atmosphere was stifling.</p> +<p>There were four occupants of this abode, and, +stretched in various attitudes on dusty blankets +spread upon the ground, they presented a strange +picture. Two of these were Eskimos. The broad, +flat faces, sharp noses, and heavy lips were unmistakable, +as were their dusky, greasy skins and +squat figures. A third man was something between +the white-man and the redskin. He was in the nature +of a half-breed, and, though not exactly pleasant to +look upon, he was certainly interesting as a study. +He was lying with limbs outstretched and his head +propped upon one hand, while his gaze was directed +with thoughtful intensity towards a small, fierce-burning +camp-stove, which, at that moment, was +rendering the hut so unbearably hot.</p> +<p>His face was sallow, and indented with smallpox +scars. He had no hair upon it, except a tuft or two +of eyebrows, which the ravages of disease had condescended +to leave to him. His nose, which was his +best feature, was beaky, but beautifully aquiline; +but his mouth was wide, with a lower lip that sagged +loosely from its fellow above. His head was small, +and was burdened with a crown of lank black hair +which had been allowed to grow Indian-like until it +hung upon his shoulders. He was of medium height, +and his arms were of undue length.</p> +<p>The other occupant of the dugout was our traveller. +He was stretched upon a blanket, on which was +spread his fur coat; and he was alternating between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +the disposal of a bowl of steaming soup and groaning +with the racking pains caused by his recently +thawed-out frost-bites.</p> +<p>The soup warmed his starving body, and his pain +increased proportionately. In spite of the latter, however, +he felt very much alive. Occasionally he glanced +round upon his silent companions. Whenever he +did so one or the other, or both of the Eskimos were +gazing stolidly at him.</p> +<p>He was rather a good-looking man, notwithstanding +his now unkempt appearance. His eyes were +large––very large in their hollow sockets. His nose +and cheeks were, at present, a mass of blisters from +the thawing frost-bites, and his mouth and chin were +hidden behind a curtain of whisker of about three +weeks’ growth. There was no mistaking him for +anything but an Anglo-Saxon, and a man of considerable +and very fine proportions.</p> +<p>When his soup was finished he set the bowl down +and leaned back with a sigh. The pock-marked man +glanced over at him.</p> +<p>“More?” he said, in a deep, not unmusical, tone.</p> +<p>The half-starved traveller nodded, and his eyes +sparkled. One of the Eskimos rose and re-filled the +bowl from a tin camp-kettle which stood on the +stove. The famished man took it and at once began +to sup the invigorating liquid. The agonies of his +frost-bites were terrible, but the pangs of hunger +were greater. By and by the bowl was set down +empty.</p> +<p>The half-breed sat up and crossed his legs, and +leant his body against two sacks which contained +something that crackled slightly under his weight.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<p>“Give you something more solid in an hour or so. +Best not have it too soon,” he said, speaking slowly, +but with good enunciation.</p> +<p>“Not now?” said the traveller, in a disappointed +tone.</p> +<p>The other shook his head.</p> +<p>“We’re all going to have supper then. Best wait.” +Then, after a pause: “Where from?”</p> +<p>“Forty Mile Creek,” said the other.</p> +<p>“You don’t say! Alone?”</p> +<p>There was a curious saving of words in this man’s +mode of speech. Possibly he had learned this method +from his Indian associates.</p> +<p>The traveller nodded.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Where to?”</p> +<p>“The sea-coast.”</p> +<p>The half-breed laughed gutturally.</p> +<p>“Forty Mile Creek. Sea-coast. On foot. Alone. +Winter. You must be mad.”</p> +<p>The traveller shook his head.</p> +<p>“Not mad. I could have done it, only I lost my +way. I had all my stages thought out carefully. I +tramped from the sea-coast originally. Where am I +now?”</p> +<p>The half-breed eyed the speaker curiously. He +seemed to think well before he answered. Then––</p> +<p>“Within a few miles of the Pass. To the north.”</p> +<p>An impressive silence followed. The half-breed +continued to eye the sick man, and, to judge from +the expression of his face, his thoughts were not +altogether unpleasant. He watched the weary face +before him until the eyes gradually closed, and, in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +spite of the burning pains of the frost-bites, exhaustion +did its work, and the man slept. He waited +for some moments listening to the heavy, regular +breathing, then he turned to his companions and +spoke long and earnestly in a curious tongue. One +of the Eskimos rose and removed a piece of bacon +from a nail in the wall. This he placed in the +camp-kettle on the stove. Then he took a tin billy +and dipped it full from a bucket containing beans +that had been set to soak. These also went into the +camp-kettle. Then the fellow threw himself down +again upon his blankets, and, for some time, the +three men continued to converse in low tones. They +glanced frequently at the sleeper, and occasionally +gurgled out a curious throaty chuckle. Their whole +attitude was furtive, and the man slept on.</p> +<p>An hour passed––two. The third was more than +half gone. The hut reeked with the smell of cooking +victuals. The Eskimo, who seemed to act as cook, +occasionally looked into the camp-kettle. The other +two were lying on their blankets, sometimes conversing, +but more often silent, gazing stolidly before +them. At length the cook uttered a sharp ejaculation +and lifted the steaming kettle from its place on the +stove. Then he produced four deep pannikins from +a sack, and four greasy-looking spoons. From another +he produced a pile of biscuits. “Hard tack,” well +known on the northern trails.</p> +<p>Supper was ready, and the pock-marked man leant +over and roused the traveller.</p> +<p>“Food,” he said laconically, as the startled sleeper +rubbed his eyes.</p> +<p>The man sat up and gazed hungrily at the iron pot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +The Indian served out the pork with ruthless hands. +A knife divided the piece into four, and he placed +one in each pannikin. Then he poured the beans +and soup over each portion. The biscuits were placed +within reach, and the supper was served.</p> +<p>The sick man devoured his uncouth food with great +relish. The soup which had been first given him had +done him much good, and now the “solid” completed +the restoration so opportunely begun. He was a +vigorous man, and his exhaustion had chiefly been +brought about by lack of food. Now, as he sat with +his empty pannikin in front of him, he looked gratefully +over at his rescuers, and slowly munched some +dry biscuit, and sipped occasionally from a great +beaker of black coffee. Life was very sweet to him +at that moment, and he thought joyfully of the belt +inside his clothes laden with the golden result of his +labours on Forty Mile Creek.</p> +<p>Now the half-breed turned to him.</p> +<p>“Feeling pretty good?” he observed, conversationally.</p> +<p>“Yes, thanks to you and your friends. You must +let me pay you for this.” The suggestion was coarsely +put. Returning strength was restoring the stranger +to his usual condition of mind. There was little +refinement about this man from the Yukon.</p> +<p>The other waived the suggestion.</p> +<p>“Sour-belly’s pretty good tack when y’ can’t get +any better. Been many days on the road?”</p> +<p>“Three weeks.” The traveller was conscious of +three pairs of eyes fixed upon his face.</p> +<p>“Hoofing right along?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I missed the trail nearly a week back. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +Followed the track of a dog-train. It came some +distance this way. Then I lost it.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Food ran out, maybe.”</p> +<p>The half-breed had now turned away, and was +gazing at the stove as though it had a great fascination +for him.</p> +<p>“Yes, I meant to make the Pass where I could lay +in a fresh store. Instead of that I wandered on till I +found the empty pack got too heavy, then I left it.”</p> +<p>“Left it?” The half-breed raised his two little +tufts of eyebrows, but his eyes remained staring at +the stove.</p> +<p>“Oh, it was empty––clean empty. You see, I +didn’t trust anything but food in my pack.”</p> +<p>“No. That’s so. Maybe gold isn’t safe in a +pack?”</p> +<p>The pock-marked face remained turned towards +the glowing stove. The man’s manner was quite +indifferent. It suggested that he merely wished to +talk.</p> +<p>The traveller seemed to draw back into his shell +at the mention of gold. A slight pause followed.</p> +<p>“Maybe you ain’t been digging up there?” the +half-breed went on presently.</p> +<p>“It’s rotten bad digging on the Creek,” the traveller +said, clumsily endeavouring to evade the question.</p> +<p>“So I’ve heard,” said the half-breed.</p> +<p>He had produced a pipe, and was leisurely filling +it from a pouch of antelope hide. His two companions +did the same. The stranger took his pipe +from his fur coat pocket and cut some tobacco from +a plug. This he offered to his companions, but it was +rejected in favour of their own.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></div> +<p>“The only thing I’ve had––that and my fur coat––to +keep me from freezing to death for more than four +days. Haven’t so much as seen a sign of life since I +lost the dog track.”</p> +<p>“This country’s a terror,” observed the half-breed +emphatically.</p> +<p>All four men lit their pipes. The sick man only +drew once or twice at his, then he laid it aside. The +process of smoking caused the blisters on his face to +smart terribly.</p> +<p>“Gives your face gyp,” said the half-breed, sympathetically. +“Best not bother to smoke to-night.”</p> +<p>He pulled vigorously at his own pipe, and the +two Indians followed suit. And gradually a pleasant +odour, not of tobacco but some strange perfume, +disguised the reek of the atmosphere. It was +pungent but delightful, and the stranger remarked +upon it.</p> +<p>“What’s that you are smoking?” he asked.</p> +<p>For one instant the half-breed’s eyes were turned +upon him with a curious look. Then he turned back +to the contemplation of the stove.</p> +<p>“Kind o’ weed that grows around these wilds,” he +answered. “Only stuff we get hereabouts. It’s good +when you’re used to it.” He laughed quietly.</p> +<p>The stranger looked from one to the other of his +three companions. He was struck by a sudden +thought.</p> +<p>“What do you do here? I mean for a living?”</p> +<p>“Trap,” replied the Breed shortly.</p> +<p>“Many furs about?”</p> +<p>“Fair.”</p> +<p>“Slow work,” said the stranger, indifferently.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></div> +<p>Then a silence fell. The wayfarer was getting +very drowsy. The pungent odour from his companions’ +pipes seemed to have a strangely soothing +effect upon him. Before he was aware of it he caught +himself nodding, and, try as he would, he could not +keep his heavy eyelids open. The men smoked on +in silence. Three pairs of eyes watched the stranger’s +efforts to keep awake, and a malicious gleam was in +the look with which they surveyed him. He was too +sleepy to observe. Besides, had he been in condition +to do so, the expression of their eyes would probably +have been different. Slowly his head drooped forward. +He was dreaming pleasantly already, although, +as yet, he was not quite asleep. Now he no longer +attempted to keep his eyes open. Further his head +drooped forward. The three men were still as mice. +Then suddenly he rolled over on one side, and his +stertorous breathing indicated a deep, unnatural +slumber.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The hut was in darkness but for a beam of light +which made its way in through a narrow slit over the +door. The sunlight shone down upon the huddled +figure of the traveller, who still slept in the attitude +in which he had rolled over on his fur coat when +sleep had first overcome him. Otherwise the hut +was empty. The half-breed and his companions had +disappeared. The fire was out. The lamp had +burned itself out. The place was intensely cold.</p> +<p>Suddenly the sleeper stirred. He straightened +himself out and turned over. Then, without further +warning, he sat up and found himself staring up at +the dazzling streak of light.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>“Daylight,” he murmured; “and they’ve let the +stove go out. Gee! but I feel queer about the head.”</p> +<p>Moving his head so that his eyes should miss the +glare of light, he gazed about him. He was alone, +and as he realized this he scrambled to his feet, and, +for the moment, the room––everything about him––seemed +to be turning topsy-turvy. He placed his +hand against the post which supported the roof and +steadied himself.</p> +<p>“I wonder where they are?” he muttered. “Ah! +of course,” as an afterthought, “they are out at their +traps. They might have stoked the fire. It’s perishing +in here. I feel beastly queer; must be the effects +of starvation.”</p> +<p>Then he moved a step forward. He brought up +suddenly to a standstill. His two hands went to his +waist. They moved, groping round it spasmodically. +Undoing his clothes he passed his hand into his shirt. +Then one word escaped him. One word––almost a +whisper––but conveying such a world of fierce, horror-stricken +intensity––</p> +<p>“Robbed!”</p> +<p>And the look which accompanied his exclamation +was the look of a man whose mind is distracted.</p> +<p>So he stood for some seconds. His lips moved, +but no words escaped them. His hand remained +within his shirt, and his fingers continued to grope +about mechanically. And all the time the dazed, +strained look burned in his great, roving eyes.</p> +<p>It was gone. That broad belt, weighted down with +the result of one year’s toil, gold dust and nuggets, +was gone. Presently he seated himself on the cold +iron of the stove. Thus he sat for an hour, looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +straight before him with eyes that seemed to draw +closer together, so intense was their gaze. And who +shall say what thoughts he thought; what wild +schemes of revenge he planned? There was no outward +sign. Just those silent moving lips.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_MR_ZACHARY_SMITH' id='CHAPTER_II_MR_ZACHARY_SMITH'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>MR. ZACHARY SMITH</h3> +</div> +<p>“Rot, man, rot! I’ve been up here long enough +to know my way about this devil’s country. No +confounded neche can teach me. The trail forked at +that bush we passed three days back. We’re all +right. I wish I felt as sure about the weather.”</p> +<p>Leslie Grey broke off abruptly. His tone was +resentful, as well as dictatorial. He was never what +one might call an easy man. He was always headstrong, +and never failed to resent interference on the +smallest provocation. Perhaps these things were in +the nature of his calling. He was one of the head +Customs officials on the Canadian side of the Alaskan +boundary. His companion was a subordinate.</p> +<p>The latter was a man of medium height, and from +the little that could be seen of his face between the +high folds of the storm-collar of his buffalo coat, he +possessed a long nose and a pair of dark, keen, yet +merry eyes. His name was Robb Chillingwood. The +two men were tramping along on snow-shoes in the +rear of a dog-train. An Indian was keeping pace +with the dogs in front; the latter, five in number, +harnessed in the usual tandem fashion to a heavily-laden +sled.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></div> +<p>“It’s no use anticipating bad weather,” replied +Chillingwood, quietly. “But as to the question of +the trail–––”</p> +<p>“There’s no question,” interrupted Grey, sharply.</p> +<p>“Ah, the map shows two clumps of bush. The trail +turns off at one of them. My chart says the second. +I studied it carefully. The ‘confounded neche,’ as +you call him, says ‘not yet.’ Which means that he +considers it to be the second bush. You say no.”</p> +<p>“The neche only knows the trail by repute. You +have never been over it before. I have travelled it +six times. You make me tired. Give it a rest. +Perhaps you can make something of those nasty, +sharp puffs of wind which keep lifting the ground +snow at intervals.”</p> +<p>Robb shrugged his fur-coated shoulders, and glanced +up at the sun. It seemed to be struggling hard to +pierce a grey haze which hung over the mountains. +The sundogs, too, could be seen, but, like the sun +itself, they were dim and glowed rather than shone. +That patchy wind, so well known in the west of +Canada, was very evident just then. It seemed to +hit the snow-bound earth, slither viciously along the +surface, sweep up a thin cloud of loose surface snow, +then drop in an instant, but only to operate in the +same manner at some other spot. This was going on +spasmodically in many directions, the snow brushing +up in hissing eddies at each attack. And slowly the +grey mist on the hills was obscuring the sun.</p> +<p>Robb Chillingwood was a man of some experience +on the prairie, although, as his companion had said, he +was new to this particular mountain trail. To his +trained eye the outlook was not encouraging.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></div> +<p>“Storm,” he observed shortly.</p> +<p>“That’s my opinion,” said Grey definitely.</p> +<p>“According to calculations, if we have not got off +the trail,” Chillingwood went on, with a sly look at +his superior, “we should reach Dougal’s roadside +hostelry in the Pass by eight o’clock––well before +dark. We ought to escape the storm.”</p> +<p>“You mean we shall,” said Grey pointedly.</p> +<p>“If––”</p> +<p>“Bunkum!”</p> +<p>The two men relapsed into silence. They were +very good friends these two. Both were used to +the strenuous northern winter. Both understood the +dangers of a blizzard. Their argument about the +trail they were on was quite a friendly one. It was +only the dictatorial manner of Leslie Grey which +gave it the appearance of a quarrel. Chillingwood +understood him, and took no notice of his somewhat +irascible remarks, whilst, for himself, he remained of +opinion that he had read his Ordnance chart aright.</p> +<p>They tramped on. Each man, with a common +thought, was watching the weather indications. As +the time passed the wind “patches” grew in size, in +force, and in frequency of recurrence. The haze upon +the surrounding hills rapidly deepened, and the air +was full of frost particles. A storm was coming on +apace. Nor was Dougal’s wayside hostelry within +sight.</p> +<p>“It’s a rotten life on the boundary,” said Robb, as +though continuing a thought aloud.</p> +<p>“It’s not so much the life,” replied Grey vindictively, +“it’s the d–––d red tape that demands the half-yearly +journey down country. That’s the dog’s part +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +of our business. Why can’t they establish a branch +bank up here for the bullion and send all ‘returns’ by +mail? There is a postal service––of a kind. It’s a +one-horsed lay out––Government work. There’ll come +a rush to the Yukon valley this year, and when there’s +a chance of doing something for ourselves––having +done all we can for the Government––I suppose they’ll +shift us. It’s the way of Governments. I’m sick of it. +I draw four thousand dollars a year, and I earn every +cent of it. You––”</p> +<p>“Draw one thousand, and think myself lucky if I +taste fresh vegetables once a week during the summer. +Say, Leslie, do you think it’s possible to assimilate +the humble but useful hog by means of a steady diet +of ‘sour-belly’?”</p> +<p>Grey laughed.</p> +<p>“If that were possible I guess we ought to make +the primest bacon. Hallo, here comes the d–––d +neche. What’s up now, I wonder? Well, Rainy-Moon, +what is it?”</p> +<p>The Indian had stopped his dogs and now turned +back to speak to the two men. His face was expressionless. +He was a tall specimen of the Cree Indian.</p> +<p>“Ugh,” he grunted, as he came to a standstill. +Then he stretched out his arm with a wide sweep in +the direction of the mountains. “No good, white-men––coyote, +yes. So,” and he pointed to the south +and made a motion of running, “yes. Plenty beef, +plenty fire-water. White-man store.” His face slowly +expanded into a smile. Then the smile died out +suddenly and he turned to the north and made a long +‘soo-o-o-sh’ with rising intonation, signifying the rising +wind. “Him very bad. White-man sleep––sleep. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +Wake––no.” And he finished up with a shake of the +head.</p> +<p>Then his arm dropped to his side, and he waited +for Grey to speak. For a moment the Customs +officer remained silent. Chillingwood waited anxiously. +Both men understood the Indian’s meaning. +Chillingwood believed the man to be right about +the trail. As to the coming storm, and the probable +consequences if they were caught in it, that +was patent to all three.</p> +<p>But Grey, with characteristic pig-headedness, gave +no heed to the superior intelligence of the Indian +where matters of direction in a wild country were +concerned. He <i>knew</i> he was on the right trail. That +was sufficient for him. But he surveyed the surrounding +mountains well before he spoke. They had +halted in a sort of cup-like hollow, with towering sides +surmounted by huge glaciers down which the wind +was now whistling with vicious force. There were +only two exits from this vast arena. The one by +which the travellers had entered it, and the other +directly ahead of them; the latter was only to be +approached by a wide ledge which skirted one of the +mountains and inclined sharply upwards. Higher up +the mountain slope was a belt of pinewoods, close to +which was a stubbly growth of low bush. This was +curiously black in contrast with the white surroundings, +for no snow was upon its weedy branches and +shrivelled, discoloured leaves. Suddenly, while Grey +was looking out beyond the dog-train, he observed the +impress of snow-shoes in the snow. He pointed to +them and drew his companion’s attention.</p> +<p>“You see,” he said triumphantly, “there has been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +some one passing this way just ahead of us. Look +here, neche, you just get right on and don’t let me +have any more nonsense about the trail.”</p> +<p>The Indian shook his head.</p> +<p>“Ow,” he grunted. “This little––just little.” +Then he pointed ahead. “Big, white––all white. +No, no; white-man no come dis way. Bimeby neche +so,” and Rainy-Moon made a motion of lying down +and sleeping. He meant that they would get lost and +die in the snow.</p> +<p>Grey became angry.</p> +<p>“Get on,” he shouted. And Rainy-Moon reluctantly +turned and started his dogs afresh.</p> +<p>The little party ascended the sloping path. The +whipping snow lashed their faces as the wind rushed +it up from the ground in rapidly thickening clouds. The +fierce gusts were concentrating into a steady shrieking +blast. A grey cloud of snow, thin as yet, but +plainly perceptible, was in the air. The threat it conveyed +was no idle one. The terror of the blizzard +was well known to those people. And they knew +that in a short space they would have to seek what +shelter they might chance to find upon these almost +barren mountains.</p> +<p>The white-men tightened the woollen scarves about +the storm-collars of their coats, and occasionally +beat their mitted hands against their sides. The +gathering wind was intensifying the cold.</p> +<p>“If this goes on we shall have to make that belt of +pinewoods for shelter,” observed Robb Chillingwood +practically. “It won’t do to take chances of losing +the dogs––and their load––in the storm. What say?”</p> +<p>They had rounded a bend and Grey was watchfully +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +gazing ahead. He did not seem to hear his companion’s +question. Suddenly he pointed directly +along the path towards a point where it seemed to +vanish between two vast crags.</p> +<p>“Smoke,” he said. And his tone conveyed that he +wished his companion to understand that he, Grey, +had been right about the trail, and that Robb had +been wrong. “That’s Dougal’s store,” he went on, +after a slight pause.</p> +<p>Chillingwood looked as directed. He saw the rush +of smoke which, in the rising storm, was ruthlessly +swept from the mouth of a piece of upright stove-pipe, +which in the now grey surroundings could just be +distinguished.</p> +<p>“But I thought there was a broad, open trail at +Dougal’s,” he said, at last, after gazing for some +moments at the tiny smoke-stack.</p> +<p>“Maybe the road opens out here,” answered Grey +weakly.</p> +<p>But it didn’t. Instead it narrowed. And as they +ascended the slope it became more and more precipitous. +The storm was now beating up, seemingly from +every direction, and it was with difficulty that the five +great huskies hauled their burden in the face of it. +However, Rainy-Moon urged them to their task with +no light hand, and just as the storm settled down to +its work in right good earnest they drew up abreast +of a small dugout. The path had narrowed down to +barely six feet in width, bordered on the left hand by +a sharp slope upwards towards the pinewood belt +above, and on the right by a sheer precipice; whilst +fifty feet further on there was no more path––just +space. As this became apparent to him, Robb Chillingwood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +could not help wondering what their fate +might have been had the storm overtaken them earlier, +and they had not come upon the dugout. However, +he had no time for much speculation on the subject, +for, as the dogs came to a stand, the door of the dugout +was thrown back and a tall, cadaverous-looking +man stood framed in the opening.</p> +<p>“Kind o’ struck it lucky,” he observed, without any +great show of enthusiasm. “Come right in. The +neche can take the dogs round the side there,” +pointing to the left of the dugout. “There’s a +weatherproof shack there where I keep my kindling. +Guess he can fix up in that till this d–––d breeze +has blown itself out. You’ve missed the trail, I take +it. Come right in.”</p> +<p>Half-an-hour later the two Customs officers were +seated with their host round the camp-stove which +stood hissing and spluttering in the centre of the +hut. The dogs and Rainy-Moon were housed in the +woodshed.</p> +<p>Now that the travellers were divested of their +heavy furs, their appearance was less picturesque but +more presentable. Robb Chillingwood was about +twenty-five; his whole countenance indexed a sturdy +honesty of thought and a merry disposition. There +was considerable strength too about brow and jaw. +Leslie Grey was shorter than his companion. A man +of dapper, sturdy figure, and with a face good-looking, +obstinate, and displaying as much sense of +humour as a barbed-wire fence post. He was fully +thirty years of age.</p> +<p>Their host possessed a long, attenuated, but powerful +figure, and a face chiefly remarkable for its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +cadaverous hollows and a pair of hungry eyes and a +dark chin-whisker.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” this individual was saying, “she’s goin’ +to howl good and hard for the next forty-eight hours, +or I don’t know these parts. Maybe you’re from the +valley?”</p> +<p>Chillingwood shook his head.</p> +<p>“No. Fort Cudahy way,” he said. “My name’s +Chillingwood––Robb Chillingwood. This is Mr. +Leslie Grey, Customs officer. I am his assistant.”</p> +<p>The long man glanced slowly at his guests. His +great eyes seemed to take in the details of each man’s +appearance with solemn curiosity. Then he twisted +slowly upon the upturned box on which he was +seated and crossed his legs.</p> +<p>“I’m pleased to meet you, gentlemen. It’s lonely +in these parts––lonely.” He shuddered as though +with cold. “I’ve been trapping in these latitudes for +a considerable period, and it’s––lonely. My name is +Zachary Smith.”</p> +<p>As the trapper pronounced his name he glanced +keenly from one to the other of the two men beside +him. His look was suggestive of doubt. He seemed +to be trying to re-assure himself that he had never +before crossed the paths of these chance guests of +his. After a moment of apprehensive silence he +went on slowly, like one groping in darkness. His +confidence was not fully established.</p> +<p>“You can make up your minds to a couple of days +in this shanty––anyhow. I mostly live on ‘sour-belly’ +and ‘hard tack.’ Don’t sound inviting, +eh?”</p> +<p>Chillingwood laughed pleasantly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></div> +<p>“We’re Government officials,” he said with meaning.</p> +<p>“Yes,” put in Grey. “But we’ve got plenty of +canned truck in our baggage. I’m thinking you may +find our supplies a pleasant change.”</p> +<p>“No doubt––no doubt whatever. Cat’s meat would +be a delicacy after––months of tallowy pork.”</p> +<p>This slow-spoken trapper surveyed his guests +thoughtfully. The travellers were enjoying the comforting +shelter and warmth. Neither of them seemed +particularly talkative.</p> +<p>Presently Grey roused himself. Extreme heat +after extreme cold always has a somnolent effect on +those who experience it.</p> +<p>“We’d best get the––stuff off the sleigh, Chillingwood,” +said he. “Rainy-Moon’s above the average +Indian for honesty, but, nevertheless, we don’t need +to take chances. And,” as the younger man rose +and stretched himself, “food is good on occasions. +What does Mr. Zachary Smith say?”</p> +<p>“Ay, let’s sample some white-man’s grub. Gentlemen, +this is a fortunate meeting––all round.”</p> +<p>Chillingwood passed out of the hut. As he opened +the door a vindictive blast of wind swept a cloud of +snow in, and the frozen particles fell crackling and +hissing upon the glowing stove.</p> +<p>“And they call this a white-man’s country,” observed +Mr. Smith pensively, as the door closed again. He +opened the stove and proceeded to knock the embers +together preparatory to stoking up afresh.</p> +<p>“Guess you were making for the Pass,” he said +conversationally.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Grey.</p> +<p>“Missed the trail,” the other said, pitching a cord-wood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +stick accurately into the centre of the glowing +embers.</p> +<p>Grey made no answer.</p> +<p>“’Tisn’t in the way of Governments to show consideration +to their servants,” Mr. Smith went on, +filling the stove with fuel to the limit of its holding +capacity. “It’s a deadly season to be forced to +travel about in.”</p> +<p>“Consideration,” said Grey bitterly. “I’m forced +to undertake this journey twice a year. Which +means I am on the road the best part of my time. +And merely because there is no bank or authorized +place for depositing–––”</p> +<p>“Ah, gold,” put in Mr. Zachary Smith quietly.</p> +<p>“And reams of ‘returns.’”</p> +<p>“They reckon that the ‘rush’ to the Yukon’ll come +next year. Maybe things will alter then.”</p> +<p>Smith straightened himself up from his occupation. +His face displayed but the most ordinary interest in +the conversation.</p> +<p>At that moment Chillingwood returned bearing +two small brass-bound chests. The Indian followed +him bringing a number of packages of tinned food. +Smith glanced from the chests––which were as much +as Chillingwood could carry––to the angular proportions +of the Indian’s burden, then back again to +the chests. He watched furtively as the officer +deposited the latter; then he turned back to the +stove and opened the damper.</p> +<p>Then followed a meal of which all three partook +with that heartiness which comes of an appetite +induced by a hardy open-air life. They talked but +little while they ate, and that little was of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +prospects of the new Eldorado. Leslie Grey spoke +with the bitterness of a disappointed man. In reality +he had been successful in the business he had adopted. +But some men are born grumblers, and he was one. +It is probable that had he been born a prince he +would have loudly lamented the fact that he was not +a king. Chillingwood was different; he accepted the +situation and enjoyed his life. He was unambitious +whilst faithfully doing that which he regarded as his +duty, first to himself, then to his employers. His +method of life was something like that of the sailor. +He fully appreciated the motto of the seafaring +gentry––one hand for himself and one for his +employers. When in doubt both hands for self. +He meant to break away from his present employment +when the Yukon “rush” came. In the meantime +he was on the spot. Mr. Zachary Smith chiefly +listened. He could eat and watch his guests. He +could study them. And he seemed in no way +inclined to waste his time on words when he could +do the other two things. He said little about himself, +and was mainly contented with comprehensive nods +and grunts, whilst he devoured huge portions of +tinned tongue and swallowed bumpers of scalding +tea.</p> +<p>After dinner the travellers produced their pipes. +Grey offered his tobacco to their host. Mr. Zachary +Smith shook his head.</p> +<p>“Given up tobacco––mostly,” he said, glancing in +the direction of the door, which groaned under a +sudden attack from the storm which was now howling +with terrible force outside. “It isn’t that I don’t +like it. But when a man gets cooped up in these +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +hills he’s like to run out of it, and then it’s uncomfortable. +I’ve taken on a native weed which does me +for smoking when I need it––which isn’t often. It +grows hereabouts and isn’t likely to give out. Guess +I won’t smoke now.”</p> +<p>Grey shrugged and lit his pipe. If any man could +be fool enough to reject tobacco, Leslie Grey was +not the sort of man to press him. He was intolerant +of ideas in any one but himself. Chillingwood +sucked luxuriously at his pipe and thought big +things.</p> +<p>The blue smoke clouds curled insinuatingly about +the heads of the smokers, and rose heavily upon the +dense atmosphere of the hut. The two men stretched +themselves indolently upon the ground, sometimes +speaking, but, for the most part, silent. These wayfarers +thought little of time. They had a certain +task to perform which, the elements permitting, they +would carry out in due course. In the meantime it +was storming, and they had been fortunate in finding +shelter in these wastes of snow and ice; they were +glad to accept what comfort came their way. This +enforced delay would find a simple record in Leslie +Grey’s report to his superiors. “Owing to a heavy +storm, etc.” They were Government servants. The +routine of these men’s lives was all very monotonous, +but they were used to it, and use is a wonderful +thing. It so closely borders on content.</p> +<p>Cards were produced later on. Mr. Zachary Smith +resisted the blandishments of “cut-throat” euchre. +He had no money to spare for gambling, he informed +his guests; he would look on. He sat over the stove +whilst the others played. Later on the cards were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +put away, and the travellers, curling themselves into +their blankets, composed themselves to sleep.</p> +<p>The lean figure sat silently blinking at the red sides +of the fire-box. His legs were crossed, and he nursed +his knee in a restful embrace. For nearly an hour he +sat thus, and only the slow movement of his great +rolling eyes, and an occasional inclination of his head +told of the active thought which was passing behind +his mask-like features.</p> +<p>As he sat there he looked older by half a score of +years than either of his companions, but, in reality, +he was a young man. The furrows and hollows upon +his face were the marks of privation and exposure, +not of age. His bowed figure was not the result of +weakness or senility, it was chiefly the result of +great height and the slouching gait of one who has +done much slow tramping. Mr. Zachary Smith made +an interesting study as he sat silently beside his +stove.</p> +<p>His face was the face of an honest man––when his +eyes were concealed beneath their heavy lids. It was +a good face, and refined; tough, vigorous, honest, +until the eyelids were raised. Then the expression +was utterly changed. A something looked out from +those great rolling eyeballs which was furtive, watchful, +doubtful. They were eyes one sometimes sees in +a madman or a great criminal. And now, as he sat +absorbed in his own reflections, their gaze alternated +between the two brass-bound chests and the recumbent +figure of Leslie Grey.</p> +<p>So he sat, this self-styled Zachary Smith, trapper.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_MR_ZACHARY_SMITH_SMOKES' id='CHAPTER_III_MR_ZACHARY_SMITH_SMOKES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>MR. ZACHARY SMITH SMOKES</h3> +</div> +<p>It was the third morning of the travellers’ sojourn +in Mr. Smith’s dugout. Two long idle days had been +spent in the fœtid atmosphere of the trapper’s half-buried +house. During their enforced stay neither +Grey nor his subordinates had learnt much of their +reticent host. It is doubtful if they had troubled +themselves much about him. He had greeted them +with a sort of indifferent hospitality, and they were +satisfied. It was not in the nature of their work to +question the characters of those whom they encountered +upon their journey. To all that he had Mr. Zachary +Smith had made them welcome; they could expect +no more, they needed no more. Now the day had +arrived for their departure, for the storm had subsided +and the sun was shining with all its wintry splendour.</p> +<p>The three men leisurely devoured an early morning +breakfast.</p> +<p>Mr. Smith was quite cheerful. He seemed to be +labouring under some strange excitement. He looked +better, too, since the advent of his guests. Perhaps +it was the result of the ample supplies of canned +provisions which the two men had lavished unsparingly +upon him. His face was less cadaverous; the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +deep searing furrows were less pronounced. Altogether +there was a marked improvement in this +solitary dweller in the wild. Now he was discussing +the prospects of the weather, whilst he partook liberally +of the food set before him.</p> +<p>“These things aren’t like most storms,” he said. +“They blow themselves out and have done with it. +They don’t come back on you with a change of wind. +That isn’t the way of the blizzard. We’ve got a clear +spell of a fortnight and more before us––with luck. +Now, which way may you be taking, gentlemen? Are +you going to head through the mountains for the +main trail, or are you going to double on your +tracks?”</p> +<p>“We are going back,” said Grey, with unpleasant +emphasis. Any allusion to his mistake of the road +annoyed him.</p> +<p>Chillingwood turned his head away and hid a +smile.</p> +<p>“I think you will do well,” replied the trapper +largely. “I know these hills, and I should be inclined +to hark back to where you missed the trail. I hope +to cover twenty miles myself to-day.”</p> +<p>“Your traps will be buried, I should say,” suggested +Robb.</p> +<p>“I’m used to that,” replied the tall man quietly. +“Guess I shan’t have much difficulty with ’em.” He +permitted himself the suspicion of a smile.</p> +<p>Grey drew out his pipe and leisurely loaded it. +Robb followed suit. Mr. Zachary Smith pushed his +tin pannikin away from before him and leaned back.</p> +<p>“Going to smoke?” he asked. “Guess I’ll join +you. No, not your plug, thanks. I’m feeling pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +good. My weed’ll do me. You don’t fancy to try +it?”</p> +<p>“T. and B.’s good enough for me,” said Grey, with +a smile. “No, I won’t experiment.”</p> +<p>Smith held his pouch towards Chillingwood.</p> +<p>“Can I?”</p> +<p>Robb shook his head with a doubtful smile.</p> +<p>“Guess not, thanks. What’s good enough for my +chief is good enough for me.”</p> +<p>The trapper slowly unfolded an antelope hide +pouch of native workmanship. He emptied out a +little pile of greenish-brown flakes into the palm of +his hand. It was curious, dusty-looking stuff, suggestive +of discoloured bran. This he poured into the +bowl of a well-worn briar, the mouthpiece of which +he carefully and with accuracy adjusted into the corner +of his mouth.</p> +<p>“If you ever chance to have the experience I have +had in these mountains, gentlemen,” he then went on +slowly, as gathering into the palm of his hand a red-hot +cinder from the stove he tossed it to and fro until +it lodged on the bowl of his pipe, “I think you’ll find +the use of the weed which grows on this hillside,” with +a jerk of his head upwards to indicate the bush which +flourished in that direction, “has its advantages.”</p> +<p>“Maybe,” said Grey contemptuously.</p> +<p>“I doubt it,” said Robb, with a pleasant smile.</p> +<p>The lean man knocked the cinder from his pipe +and emitted a cloud of pungent smoke from between +his lips. The others had lit up. But the odour of the +trapper’s weed quickly dominated the atmosphere. +He talked rapidly now.</p> +<p>“You folks who travel the main trails don’t see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +much of what is going on in the mountains––the real +life of the mountains,” he said. “You have no conception +of the real dangers which these hills contain. +Yes, sir, they’re hidden from the public eye, and only +get to be known outside by reason of the chance +experience of the traveller who happens to lose his +way, but is lucky enough to escape the pitfalls with +which he finds himself surrounded. I could tell you +some queer yarns of these hills.”</p> +<p>“Travellers’ tales,” suggested Grey, with a yawn and +a disparaging smile. “I have heard some.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Robb, “there are queer tales afloat of +adventures encountered by travellers journeying from +the valley to the coast. But they’re chiefly confined +to wayside robbery, and are of a very sordid, everyday +kind. No doubt your experiences are less matter-of-fact +and more romantic. By Jove, I feel jolly +comfy. Not much like turning out.”</p> +<p>“That’s how it takes me,” said Smith quietly, but +with a quick glance at the speaker. “But idleness +won’t boil my pot. It’s a remarkable thing that I’ve +felt wonderfully energetic these last few days, and +now that I have to turn out I should prefer to stop +where I am. I s’pose it’s human nature.”</p> +<p>He gazed upon his audience with a broad smile.</p> +<p>At that moment the loud yelping of the dogs penetrated +the thick sides of the dugout. Rainy-Moon +was preparing for the start. Doubtless the brilliant +change in the weather had inspired the savage burden-bearers +of the north.</p> +<p>“That’s curious-smelling stuff you’re smoking,” said +Grey, rousing himself with an effort after a moment’s +dead silence. “What do you call it?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div> +<p>“Can’t say––a weed,” said Zachary Smith, glancing +down his nose towards the bowl of his pipe. “Not +bad, is it? Smells of almonds––tastes like nutty +sherry.”</p> +<p>Grey stifled a yawn.</p> +<p>“I feel sleepy, d–––d sleepy. Wonder if Rainy-Moon +has got the sleigh loaded.”</p> +<p>Smith emitted another dense cloud of smoke from +between his pursed lips; he seemed wrapt in the +luxurious enjoyment of his smoke. Robb Chillingwood’s +eyelids were drooping, and his pipe had gone +out. Quite suddenly the trapper’s eyes were turned +on the face of Grey, and the smoke from his pipe was +chiefly directed towards him.</p> +<p>“There’s time enough yet,” he said quietly. “Half-an-hour +more or less won’t make much difference to +you on the road. You were talking of travellers’ tales, +and I reckon you were thinking of fairy yarns that +some folks think it smart to spin. Well, maybe those +same stories have some foundation in fact, and ain’t +all works of imagination. Anyhow, my experience +has taught me never to disbelieve until I’ve some good +sound grounds for doing so.”</p> +<p>He paused and gazed with a far-off look at the +opposite wall. Then a shadowy smile stole over his +face, and he went on. His companions’ heads had +drooped slowly forward, and their eyes were heavy +with sleep. Grey was fighting against the drowsiness +by jerking his head sharply upwards, but his eyes +would close in spite of his efforts.</p> +<p>“Well, I never thought that I’d get caught napping,” +continued Smith, with a chuckle. “I thought +I knew these regions well enough, but I didn’t. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +lost my way, too, and came near to losing my +life–––”</p> +<p>He broke off abruptly as Robb Chillingwood +slowly rolled over on his side and began to snore +loudly. Then Smith turned back to Leslie Grey, and +leaning forward, so that his face was close to that of +the officer, blew clouds of the pungent smoke right +across the half-stupefied man’s mouth and nostrils.</p> +<p>“I lost other things,” he then went on meditatively, +“but not my life. I lost that which was more +precious to me. I lost gold––gold! I lost the result +of many weary months of toil. I had hoarded it up +that I might go down to the east and buy a nice little +ranch, and settle down into a comfortable, respectable +man of property. I didn’t even wait until the spring +opened so that I could take the river route. No, +that wasn’t my way, because I knew it would cost a +lot of money and I wasn’t overburdened with wealth. +I had just enough–––”</p> +<p>He puffed vigorously at his pipe. Grey’s head was +now hanging forward and his chin rested on his chest.</p> +<p>There came the sound of Rainy-Moon’s voice +adjuring the dogs outside the door of the dugout. +The trapper’s eyes flashed evilly in the direction of +the unconscious Indian.</p> +<p>“–––to do what I wanted,” he resumed. “No +more––no less; and I set out on foot.” He was +anxiously watching for Grey’s collapse. “Yes, I was +going to tramp to the sea-coast through these mountains. +I hit the wrong trail, decoyed by a false track +carefully made by those who waited for me in these +hills.”––Grey was swaying heavily and his breathing +was stertorous.––“I met my fate and was robbed of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +my gold. I was drugged––as you poor fools are +being drugged now. When it was too late I discovered +how it was done, and determined to do the +same thing by the first victim that fell into my +clutches. I tried the weed and soon got used to its +fumes. Then I waited––waited. I had set my decoy +at the cross-roads, and you––you––came.”</p> +<p>As the trapper ceased speaking Grey slowly rolled +over, insensible.</p> +<p>In a moment the watching man was upon his feet. +His whole face was transfigured. Alertness was in +every movement, in every flash of his great eyes. +He moved quickly across the floor of the hut and +took two shallow pannikins from the sack which lay +upon the floor, dropped some of the flaky weed into +the bottom of each one, and then from the stove he +scraped some coals of fire into them. The fire set +the dry weed smouldering, and the thick smoke rose +heavily from the two tins. These he placed upon the +ground in such a position that his hard-breathing +victims should thoroughly inhale the fumes. Thus +he would make doubly sure of them.</p> +<p>This done he stood erect and gazed for some +seconds at the result of his handiwork; he was +satisfied, but there was no look of pleasure on his +face. He did not look like a man of naturally criminal +instincts. There was nothing savage about his expression, +or even callous. His look merely seemed +to say that he had set himself this task, and, so far, +what he had done was satisfactory in view of his +object. He turned from the heavy-slumbering men +and his eyes fell upon the two small gold chests. +Instantly his whole expression changed. Here was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +the keynote to the man’s disposition. Gold! It was +the gold he coveted. At all costs that gold was to +be his. His eyes shone with greed. He moved +towards the boxes as though he were about to handle +them; but he paused abruptly before he reached +them. The barking of the dogs and the strident +tones of the Indian’s voice outside arrested him. He +suddenly remembered that he had not yet completed +his work.</p> +<p>Now he moved with unnecessarily stealthy steps +over to the darkest corner of the hut, to where a pile +of rough skins stood. The steady nerve which had +hitherto served him seemed in a measure to have +weakened. It was a phase which a man of his disposition +must inevitably pass through in the perpetration +of a first crime. He was assailed by a sensation +of watching eyes following his every movement; +with a feeling that another presence than those two +slumbering forms moved with him in the dim light of +the dugout. He was haunted by his other self; the +moral self.</p> +<p>From beneath the pile of furs he drew a heavy +revolver which he carefully examined. The chambers +were loaded.</p> +<p>Again came the sound of the dogs outside. And +he even fancied he heard the shuffling of Rainy-Moon’s +moccasins over the beaten snow just outside +the door. He turned his face in the direction. The +expression of his great hungry eyes was malevolent. +Whatever moral fear might have been his, there could +be no doubt that he would carry his purpose out. +He gripped his pistol firmly and moved towards the +door.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></div> +<p>As his hand rested on the latch he paused. Just +for one instant he hesitated. It seemed as though all +that was honest in him was making one final appeal +to the evil passions which swayed him. His eyelids +lowered suddenly, as though he could not even face +the dim light of that gloomy interior. It was the +attitude of one who fully realizes the nature of his +actions, of one who shrinks from the light of honest +purpose and prefers the obscure recesses of his own +moral darkness. Then with an effort he pulled himself +together; he gripped his nerve. The next +moment he flung wide the door.</p> +<p>A flood of wintry sunshine suffused the interior of +the dugout. The glare of the crystal white earth was +dazzling to a degree, and the hungry-looking trapper +stood blinking in the light. His pistol was concealed +behind him. The sleigh was before the door. Rainy-Moon +stood on the far side of the path in the act of +hitching the dogs up. One of the animals, the largest +of them all, was already harnessed, the others were +standing or squatting around, held in leash by the +Indian.</p> +<p>When he heard the door open Rainy-Moon looked +up from his work. He was standing with his back to +the precipice which bordered the narrow ledge. His +great stolid face expressed nothing but solemn +gravity. He grunted and turned again to his work.</p> +<p>Like a flash the trapper’s pistol darted from behind +him, and its report rang out echoing and re-echoing +amongst the surrounding hills. There was an answering +cry of pain from the harnessed dog, and Rainy-Moon +with a yell stood erect to find himself gazing +into the muzzle of the revolver. The expression of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +the trapper’s face was relentless now. His first shot +had been fired under the influence of excitement, and +he had missed his object and only wounded the dog. +Now it was different.</p> +<p>Again the pistol rang out. Rainy-Moon gave one +sharp cry of pain and sprang backwards––into space. +In one hand he still gripped the leashes of the dogs. +The other clutched wildly at the air. For one instant +his fall was broken by his hold upon the four dogs, +then the suddenness of his precipitation and his +weight told, and the poor beasts were dragged over +the side of the chasm after him.</p> +<p>The whole dastardly act was but the work of a +moment.</p> +<p>The next all was silence save for the yelping of the +wounded dog lying upon the snow.</p> +<p>The trapper stood for a moment framed in the +doorway. The horror of his crime was upon him. +He waited for a sound to come up to him from below. +He longed to, but he dared not, look over the side of +the yawning chasm. He feared what awful sight his +eyes might encounter. His imagination conjured up +pictures that turned him sick in the stomach, and +a great dread came over him. Suddenly he turned +back into the hut and slammed the door.</p> +<p>The wounded dog had not changed its attitude. +The moments sped by. Suddenly the poor beast +began to struggle violently. It was a huge specimen +of the husky breed, exceptionally powerful and wolfish +in its appearance. The wretched brute moaned +incessantly, but its pain only made it struggle the +harder to free itself from its harness. At length it +succeeded in wriggling out of the primitive “breast-draw” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +which held it. Then the suffering beast +limped painfully away down the path. Fifty yards +from the hut it squatted upon its haunches and began +to lick its wounded foot. And every now and then it +would cease its healing operation to throw up its long +muzzle and emit one of those drawn-out howls, so +dismal and dispiriting, in which dogs are able to +express their melancholy feelings.</p> +<p>At length the hut door opened again and the +trapper came out; he was equipped for a long journey. +Thick blanket chaps covered his legs, and a great +fur coat reached to his knees. His head was buried +beneath a beaver cap, which, pressed low down over +his ears, was overlapped by the collar of his coat. +He carried a roll of blankets over his shoulder and +a pack on his back. As he came out into the sunshine +he looked fearfully about him. There stood the +loaded sleigh quite undisturbed. The harness alone +was tumbled about by reason of the wounded dog’s +struggles. And there was a pool of canine blood +upon the snow, and a faint trail of sanguinary hue +leading from it. The man eyed this and followed its +direction until he saw the dog crouching down further +along the path. But he was not thinking of the dog. +He turned back to the sleigh, and his eyes wandered +across, beyond it, to the brink of the precipice. The +only marks that had disturbed the smooth white edge +of the path were those which had tumbled the snow +where the dogs had been dragged to their fate. +Otherwise there was no sign.</p> +<p>The man stepped forward as though to look down +to the depths below, but, as he neared the edge, he +halted shudderingly. Nor did his eyes turn downwards, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +he looked around him, above him––but not +down. He gazed long and earnestly at the hard, +cold, cloudless sky. His brow frowned with unpleasant +thought. Then his lips moved, and he +muttered words that sounded as though he were +endeavouring to justify his acts to himself.</p> +<p>“The gold was mine––honestly mine. It was +wrested from me. It may be Christian to submit +without retaliation. It is not human. What is a +neche’s life––nothing. Pooh! An Indian life is of +no value in this country. Come on, let’s go.”</p> +<p>He spoke as though he were not alone. Perhaps +he was addressing that moral self of his which kept +reminding him of his misdeeds. Anyhow, he was +uncomfortable, and his words told of it.</p> +<p>He stooped and adjusted his snow-shoes, after +which he gripped his long staff and slowly began his +journey down the hill.</p> +<p>He quickly got into his stride, that forward, leaning +attitude of the snow-shoer; nor did he glance to the +left or right.</p> +<p>Straight ahead of him he stared, over the jagged +rampart of mountains to the clear steely hue of the +sky above. He was leaving the scene of his crime; +he wished also to leave its memory. He gave no +heed to the trail of blood that stained the whiteness +of the snow beneath his feet; his thoughts were not +of the present––his present; his mind was travelling +swiftly beyond. The whining of the dog as he passed +him fell upon ears that were deaf to all entreaty.</p> +<p>The crystal-covered earth glided by him; the long, +reaching stride of the expert snow-shoer bore him +rapidly along.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></div> +<p>He paused in the valley below and took fresh +bearings. He intended to strike through the heart of +the mountains. The Pass was his goal, for he knew +that there lay the main trail he sought.</p> +<p>He cast about for the landmarks which he had +located during his long tenancy of the dugout. Not +a branch of a tree rustled. Not a breath of air +fanned the steaming breath which poured from his +lips. His mind was centred on his object, but the +nervous realization of loneliness was upon him.</p> +<p>Suddenly the awful stillness was broken. The +man bent his head in a listening attitude. The +sound came from behind and he turned sharply. +His movement was hurried and anxious. His nerves +were not steady. A long-drawn-out wail rose upon +the air. Fifty yards behind stood the wounded hound +gazing after him as if he, too, were endeavouring to +ascertain the right direction. The creature was standing +upon three legs, the fourth was hanging useless, +and the blood was dripping from the footless limb.</p> +<p>The man turned away with an impatient shrug and +stepped out briskly. He knew his direction now, and +resolutely centred his thoughts upon his journey. +Past experience told him that this would tax all his +energy and endurance, and that he must keep a clear +head, for he was not a native of the country, nor had +he the instinct of one whose life had been passed in a +mountainous world. Once he turned at the sound of +a plaintive whining, and, to his annoyance, he saw +that the dog was following him. A half-nervous +laugh escaped him, but he did not pause. He had +hitherto forgotten the creature, and this was an +unpleasant reminder.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>An hour passed. The exhilarating exercise had +cleansed the atmosphere of the murderer’s thoughts. +Once only he looked back over his shoulder as some +memory of the dog flashed across his brain. He +could see nothing but the immaculate gleam of snow. +Something of the purity of his surroundings seemed +to communicate itself to his thoughts. He found +himself looking forward to a life, the honest, respectable +life, which the burden he carried in his pack +would purchase for him. He saw himself the owner +of vast tracts of pasture, with stock grazing upon it, +a small but comfortable house, and a wife. He +pictured to himself the joys of a pastoral life, a +community in which his opinions and influence would +be matters of importance. He would be looked up +to, and gradually, as his wealth grew, he would +become interested in the world of politics, and he +would–––</p> +<p>He was dragged back to the present by a memory +of the scene at the dugout, and quite suddenly he +broke into a cold perspiration. He increased his +pace, nor did those pleasant visions again return to +him. It was well past noon when at last he halted +for food and rest.</p> +<p>He devoured his simple fare ravenously, but he +gained no enjoyment therefrom. He was moody. +At that moment he hated life; he hated himself for +his weak yielding to the pricks of conscience; he +hated the snow and ice about him for their deadening +effect upon the world through which he was passing; +he hated the dreadful solitude with which he was +surrounded.</p> +<p>Presently he drew out a pipe. He looked at it for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +one instant, then raised it to his nose. He smelt it, +and, with a motion of disgust and a bitter curse, he +threw it from him. It reeked of the weed he had +found at the dugout.</p> +<p>Now he was seized with a feverish restlessness +and was about to rise to his feet. Suddenly, out +on the still, biting air wailed the familiar long-drawn +note of misery. To his disturbed fancy it +came like a dreadful signal of some awful doom. +It echoed in undulating waves of sound, dying +away hardly, as though it were loth to leave its +mournful surroundings. He turned in the direction +whence it proceeded, and slowly into view limped +the wounded husky, yelping piteously at every +step.</p> +<p>At that moment the man was scarcely responsible +for what he did. He was beside himself with dread. +The solitude was on his nerves, this haunting dog, his +own reflections, all had combined to reduce him to +the verge of nervous prostration. With the last +dying sound his heavy revolver was levelled in the +direction of the oncoming hound. There was a +moment’s pause, then a shot rang out and the dog +stood quite still. The bullet fell short and only +kicked up the snow some yards in front of the +animal, nor did the beast display the least sign of +fear. The man prepared to take another shot, but, +as he was about to fire, his arm dropped to his +side, and, with a mirthless laugh, he put the pistol +away.</p> +<p>“The d–––d cur seems to know the range of a +gun,” he muttered, with an uneasy look at the +motionless creature. His words were an apology to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +himself, although perhaps he would not have admitted +it.</p> +<p>The dog remained in its rigid attitude. Its head +was slightly lowered, and its wicked grey eyes glared +ferociously. Its thick mane bristled, and it looked +like a gaunt, hungry wolf following upon the trail of +some unconscious traveller. So long as the man +stood, so long did the dog remain still and silent. +But as the former returned to his seat, and began to +pack up, the dog began to whine and furtively draw +nearer.</p> +<p>Although he did not look up the man knew that +the animal was coming towards him. When he had +finished packing he straightened himself; the dog +was within a few paces of him. He called gently, +and the animal responded with a whimper, but remained +where it was. Its canine mind was evidently +dubious, and the man was forced to take the initiative. +Whatever may have been his intention in the first +place, he now exhibited a curious display of feeling +for one who could plan and perpetrate so dastardly a +crime as that which he had committed at the dugout. +Human nature is a strange blending of good and evil +passions. Two minutes ago the man would, without +the least remorse, have shot the dog. Now as he +reached him, and he listened to the beast’s plaintive +cries, he stretched out his arm and stroked its +trembling sides, and then stooped to examine the +wounded limb. And, stranger still, he tore off a +portion of the woollen scarf that circled his waist +and proceeded to bandage up the shattered member. +The dog submitted to the operation with languid +resignation. The foot of one hind leg had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +entirely torn away by a revolver shot, and only the +stump of the leg was left. The poor beast would go +on three legs for the rest of his life.</p> +<p>When the man had finished he rose to his feet, and +a bitter laugh shocked the silence of the snow-bound +world.</p> +<p>“There, you miserable cur. It’s better like that +than to get the cold into it. I’ve had some; besides, +I didn’t intend to damage you. If you’re going to +travel with me you’d best come along, and be d–––-d +to you.”</p> +<p>And he walked back to where his pack and blankets +lay, and the dog limped at his heels.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_YELLOW_BOOMINGSLUMP_IN_GREY' id='CHAPTER_IV_YELLOW_BOOMINGSLUMP_IN_GREY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>‘YELLOW BOOMING––SLUMP IN GREY’</h3> +</div> +<p>The days are long since gone when the name of +the midland territory of the great Canadian world, +Manitoba, suggested to the uninitiated nothing but +Red Indians, buffalo and desperadoes of every sort +and condition. Now-a-days it is well known, even +in remote parts of the world, as one of the earth’s +greatest granaries; a land of rolling pastures, golden +cornfields and prosperous, simple farm folk. In a +short space of time, little more than a quarter of a +century, this section of the country has been elevated +from the profound obscurity of a lawless wilderness +to one of the most thriving provinces of a great +dominion. The old Fort Garry, one of the oldest +factories of the Hudson’s Bay Company, has given +place to the magnificent city of Winnipeg, with its +own University, its own governing assembly, its +own clubs, hotels, its own world-wide commercial +interests, besides being the great centre of railway +traffic in the country. All these things, and many +other indications of splendid prosperity too numerous +to mention, have grown up in a little over twenty-five +years. And with this growth the buffalo has gone, +the red-man has been herded on to a limited reservation, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +and the “Bad-man” is almost an unknown +quantity. Such is the Manitoba of to-day.</p> +<p>But during the stages of Manitoba’s transition its +history is interesting. The fight between law and +lawlessness was long and arduous, the pitched battles +many and frequent. Buffalo could be killed off +quickly, the red-man was but a poor thing after the +collapse of the Riel rebellion, but the “Bad-man” +died hard.</p> +<p>This is the period in the history of Manitoba which +at present interests us. When Winnipeg was building +with a rapidity almost rivalling that of the second +Chicago, and the army of older farmers in the land +was being hastily augmented by recruits from the +mother country. When the military police had withdrawn +their forces to the North-West Territories, +leaving only detachments to hold the American +border against the desperadoes which both countries +were equally anxious to be rid of.</p> +<p>In the remote south-eastern corner of the province, +forty-five miles from the nearest town––which happened +to be the village of Ainsley––dumped down on the +crest of a far-reaching ocean-like swell of rolling +prairie, bare to the blast of the four winds except for +the insignificant shelter of a small bluff on its northeastern +side, stood a large farm-house surrounded by +a small village of barns and outbuildings. It was a +typical Canadian farm of the older, western type. +One of those places which had grown by degrees +from the one central hut of logs, clay and thatch to +the more pretentious proportions of the modern frame +building of red pine weather-boarding, with shingled +roofing to match, and the whole coloured with paint +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +of a deep, port-wine hue, the points and angles being +picked out with a dazzling white. It was a farm, let +there be no mistake, and not merely a homestead.</p> +<p>There were abundant signs of prosperity in the +trim, well-groomed appearance of the place. The +unmistakable hall-mark was to be found in the +presence of a steam-thresher, buried beneath a covering +of tarpaulin and snow, in the array of farming +machinery, and in the maze of pastures enclosed by +top-railed, barbed-wire fencing. All these things, +and the extent of the buildings, told of years of ceaseless +industry and thrift, of able management and a +proper pride in the vocation of its owner.</p> +<p>Nor were these outward signs in any way misleading. +Silas Malling in his lifetime had been +one of those sound-minded men, unimaginative and +practical, the dominant note of whose creed had +always been to do his duty in that state of life in +which he found himself. The son of an early pioneer +he had been born to the life of a farmer, and, having +the good fortune to follow in the footsteps of a thrifty +father, he had lived long enough to see his farm grow +to an extent many times larger and more prosperous +than that of any neighbour within a radius of a +hundred miles. But at the time of our story he had +been gathered to his forefathers for nearly three years, +and his worthy spouse, Hephzibah Malling, reigned in +his stead. She ruled with an equally practical hand, +and fortune had continued to smile upon her. Her +bank balance had grown by leaps and bounds, and +she was known to be one of the richest women in +Southern Manitoba, and her only daughter, Prudence, +to be heiress to no inconsiderable fortune. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +was a son in the family, but he had eschewed the farm +life, and passing out of the home circle, as some +sons will, had gone into the world to seek his own +way––his own experiences of life.</p> +<p>In spite of the wealth of the owners of Loon Dyke +Farm they were very simple, unpretentious folk. +They lived the life they had always known, abiding +by the customs of childhood and the country to +which they belonged with the whole-hearted regard +which is now becoming so regrettably rare. Their +world was a wholesome one which provided them +with all they needed for thought, labour and recreation. +To journey to Winnipeg, a distance of a +hundred and twenty-six miles, was an event which +required two days’ preparation and as many weeks +of consideration. Ainsley, one of those little border +villages which dot the international boundary dividing +Canada from the United States, was a place rarely +visited by them, and when undertaken the trip was +regarded as a notable jaunt.</p> +<p>Just now Mrs. Malling was a prey to the wildest +excitement. An event was about to happen which +disturbed her to a degree. It is doubtful as to what +feeling was uppermost in her motherly bosom. She +was torn between many conflicting emotions––joy, +grief, pleasurable excitement. Her daughter, her +only child, as she was wont to confide to her matronly +friends––for her boy, whom she loved as only a mother +can love a son, she believed she would never see +again––was about to be married.</p> +<p>No visit to town, not even a sea voyage across the +ocean could possibly compare with this. It was a +more significant event in her life even than when she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +went into Winnipeg to choose the monument which +was to be erected over the grave of her departed +Silas. That she had always had in her mind’s eye, +not because she looked forward to his demise, but +because she hoped some day to share with him its +sheltering canopy. But somehow this forthcoming +marriage of her daughter was in the nature of a shock +to her. She was not mercenary, far from it, she was +above any such motive as that, but she had hoped, +when the time came for such matters to be considered, +that Prudence would have married a certain +rancher who lived out by the Lake of the Woods, a +man of great wealth, and a man whom Mrs. Malling +considered desirable in every way. Instead of that +Prudence had chosen for herself amongst her many +suitors, and worst of all she had chosen an insignificant +official in the Customs department. That +to Hephzibah Malling was the worst blow of all. +With proper motherly pride she had hoped that “her +girl” would have married a “some one” in her own +world.</p> +<p>The winter evening shadows––it was the middle of +January and winter still held sway upon the prairie––were +falling, and the parlour at the farm was enveloped +in a grey dusk. The room was large, low-ceiled, and +of irregular shape.</p> +<p>It was furnished to serve many purposes, principally +with a view to solid comfort. There was no blatant +display of wealth, and every article of furniture bore +signs of long though careful use. The spotless boarded +floor was bare of carpet, but was strewn with rough-cured +skins, timber-wolf, antelope, coyote and bear, +and here and there rugs of undoubted home make; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +these latter of the patchwork order. The centre +table was of wide proportions and of solid mahogany, +and told of the many services of the apartment; the +small chairs were old-fashioned mahogany pieces +with horse-hair seats, while the easy-chairs––and +there were several of these––were capacious and of +divers descriptions. A well-worn sofa was stowed +away in an obscure angle, and a piano with a rose-silk +front and fretwork occupied another of the many +dark corners which the room possessed.</p> +<p>The whole atmosphere of the place was of extreme +comfort. The bare description of furniture conveys +nothing, but the comfort was there and showed out +in the odds and ends of family possessions which +were in evidence everywhere––the grandfather’s clock, +the sewing-machine, the quaint old oil-lamps upon +the mantel-board over the place where the fire should +have been but was not; the soft hangings and curious +old family pictures and discoloured engravings; the +perfect femininity of the room. In all respects it was +a Canadian farm “best parlour.”</p> +<p>There were four occupants of the room. Two old +ladies, rotund, and garbed in modest raiment of some +sort of dark, clinging material, were gathered about +the monster self-feeding stove, seated in arm-chairs +in keeping with their ample proportions. One was +the widow of the late Silas Malling, and the other +was the school-ma’am from the Leonville school-house. +This good lady rejoiced in the name of +Gurridge, and Mrs. Gurridge was the oldest friend +of Hephzibah Malling, a fact which spoke highly +for the former good dame’s many excellent qualities. +Hephzibah was not a woman to set her affections +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +on her sex without good reason. Her moral standard +was high, and though she was ever ready to +show kindliness to her fellow-creatures, she was +far too practical and honest herself to take to her +motherly bosom any one who was not worthy of +regard.</p> +<p>As was natural, they were talking of the forthcoming +marriage, and the tone of their lowered voices +indicated that their remarks were in the nature of +confidences. Mrs. Malling was sitting bolt upright, +and her plump, rather rough hands were folded in her +broad lap. Mrs. Gurridge was leaning towards the +stove, gazing into the fire through the mica sides of +the fire-box.</p> +<p>“I trust they will be happy,” said Mrs. Gurridge, +with a sigh. Then as an afterthought: “He seems +all right.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” Mrs. Malling said, with a responsive exhalation, +“I think so. He has few faults. But he is not +the man to follow my Silas on this farm. I truly +believe, Sarah, that he couldn’t tell the difference +between a cabbage-field and a potato-patch. These +what-d’you-call-’ems, Civil servants, are only fit to +tot up figures and play around with a woman’s wardrobe +every time she crosses the border. Thank +goodness I’m not of the travelling kind; I’m sure I +should hide my face for very shame every time I saw +a Customs officer.”</p> +<p>The round, rosy face of the farm-wife assumed a +deeper hue, and her still comely lips were pursed into +an indignant <i>moue</i>. Her smooth grey head, adorned +by a black lace cap trimmed with pearl beads, was +turned in the direction of the two other occupants of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +the room, who were more or less buried in the +obscurity of a distant corner.</p> +<p>For a moment she gazed at the dimly-outlined +figure of a man who was seated on one of the horse-hair +chairs, leaning towards the sofa on which +reclined the form of her daughter, Prudence. His +elbows were resting on his knees and his chin was +supported upon his two clenched fists. He was +talking earnestly. Mrs. Malling watched him for +some moments, then her eyes drifted to the girl, the +object of her solicitude.</p> +<p>Although the latter was in the shadow her features +were, even at this distance, plainly discernible. +There was a strong resemblance between mother and +daughter. They were both of medium dark complexion, +with strong colouring. Both were possessed +of delightfully sweet brown eyes, and mouths and +chins firm but shapely. The one remarkable difference +between them was in the nasal organ. While +the mother’s was short, well-rounded, and what one +would call pretty though ordinary, the girl’s was +prominent and aquiline with a decided bridge. This +feature gave the younger woman a remarkable +amount of character to her face. Altogether hers was +a face which, wherever she went, would inevitably +attract admiring attention. Just now she was +evidently teasing the man before her, and the mother +turned back to the stove with a merry twinkle in her +eyes.</p> +<p>“I think Prudence will teach him a few lessons,” +she murmured to her friend.</p> +<p>“What––about the farm?”</p> +<p>“Well, I wasn’t just thinking of the farm.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></div> +<p>The two ladies smiled into each other’s faces.</p> +<p>“She is a good child,” observed Mrs. Gurridge +affectionately, after awhile.</p> +<p>“Or she wouldn’t be her father’s child.”</p> +<p>“Or your daughter, Hephzibah,” said Sarah +Gurridge sincerely.</p> +<p>The two relapsed into silence. The glowing coals +in the stove shook lower and received augmentation +from the supply above. Darkness was drawing on.</p> +<p>Prudence was holding the <i>Free Press</i> out towards +the dying light and the man was protesting. The +latter is already known to us. His name was Leslie +Grey, now an under-official of the Customs department +at the border village of Ainsley.</p> +<p>“Don’t strain your eyes in this light, dear,” he was +saying. “Besides, I want to talk to you.” He laid his +hand upon the paper to take it from her. But the +girl quickly withdrew it out of his reach.</p> +<p>“You must let me look at the personal column, +Leslie,” she said teasingly, “I just love it. What do +you call it? The ‘Agony’ column, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” the man answered, with some show of irritation. +“But I want–––”</p> +<p>“Of course you do,” the girl interrupted. “You +want to talk to me––very right and proper. But +listen to this.”</p> +<p>Grey bit his lip. Prudence bent her face close to +the paper and read in a solemn whisper––</p> +<p>“‘Yellow booming––slump in Grey’! Now I wonder +what that means? Do you think it’s a disguised +love message to some forlorn damsel in the east, or +does it conceal the heartrending cry of a lost soul to +some fond but angry parent?” Then, as the man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +did not immediately answer, she went on with a +pucker of thought upon her brow. “‘Yellow’––that +might mean gold. ‘Booming’––ah, yes, the Kootenai +mines, or the Yukon. There is going to be a rush +there this year, isn’t there? Oh, I forgot,” with real +contrition, “I mustn’t mention the Yukon, must I? +That is where your disaster occurred that caused +you to be banished to the one-horsed station of +Ainsley.”</p> +<p>“Not forgetting the reduction of my salary to the +princely sum of two thousand dollars per annum,” +Grey added bitterly.</p> +<p>“Never mind, old boy, it brought us together, and +dollars aren’t likely to trouble us any. But let me +get on with my puzzle. ‘Slump in Grey.’ That’s +funny, isn’t it? ‘Slump’ certainly has to do with +business. I’ve seen ‘Slump’ in the finance columns +of the Toronto <i>Globe</i>. And then ‘Grey.’ That’s +your name.”</p> +<p>“I believe so.”</p> +<p>“Um. Guess I can’t make much of it. Seems to +me it must be some business message. I call it real +disappointing.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps not so disappointing as you think, sweetheart,” +Grey said thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“What, do you understand it?” The girl at once +became all interest.</p> +<p>“Yes,” slowly, “I understand it, but I don’t know +that I ought to tell you.”</p> +<p>“Of course you must. I’m just dying of curiosity. +Besides,” she went on coaxingly, “we are going to be +married, and it wouldn’t be right to have any secrets +from me. Dear old Gurridge never lost an opportunity +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +of firing sage maxims at us when I used to go to +her school. I think the one to suit this occasion ran +something like this––</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>‘Secrets withheld ’twixt man and wife,<br /> +Infallibly end in connubial strife.’</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“She always made her rhymes up as she went +along. She’s a sweet old dear, but so funny.”</p> +<p>But Grey was not heeding the girl’s chatter. His +face was serious and his obstinate mouth was tight-shut. +He was gazing with introspective eyes at the +paper which was now lying in the girl’s lap. +Suddenly he leaned further forward and spoke almost +in a whisper.</p> +<p>“Look here, Prue, I want you to listen seriously to +what I have to say. I’m not a man given to undue +hopefulness. I generally take my own way in things +and see it through, whether that way is right or +wrong. So far I’ve had some successes and more +failures. If I were given to dreaming or repining I +should say Fate was dead against me. That last +smasher I came in the mountains, when I lost the +Government bullion, nearly settled me altogether, but, +in spite of it all, I haven’t given up hope yet, and +what is more, I anticipate making a big coup shortly +which will reinstate me in favour with the heads of +my department. My coup is in connection with the +notice you have just read out from the ‘Agony’ +column.”</p> +<p>The girl nodded. She was quite serious now. +Grey paused, and the ticking of the grandfather’s +clock on the other side of the room pounded heavily +in the twilight The murmur of the old ladies’ voices +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +occasionally reached the lovers, but it did not interrupt +them or divert their attention from their own +affairs.</p> +<p>“That notice,” Grey went on, “has appeared at +regular intervals in the paper, and is a message to +certain agents from a certain man, to say that certain +illicit work has been carried out. I have discovered +who this man is and the nature of his work. It does +not matter who he is or what the work; in fact, it +would be dangerous to mention either, even here; +the point is that I have discovered the secret, and I, +alone, am going to benefit by my discovery. I am +not going to let any one share the reward with me. +I want to reinstate myself with the authorities, and so +regain my lost position, then no one will be able to +say things about my marriage with you.”</p> +<p>“No one had better say anything against you in my +hearing, anyway, Leslie,” the girl put in quickly. +“Because I happen to be rich––or shall be––is nothing +to do with any one but myself. As far as I +can see it will be a blessing. Go on.”</p> +<p>“No doubt it is as you say, dear,” the man pursued; +“but there are plenty of people unkind enough to +believe that I am marrying you for your money. +However, I am going to get this man red-handed, +and, I tell you, it will be the greatest coup of my +life.”</p> +<p>“I hope you will succeed, Leslie,” the girl said, her +brown eyes fixed in admiration upon her lover. “Do +you know, I never thought you were such a determined +fellow,” she added impulsively. “Why, I can +almost believe that you’d learn to farm if you took +the notion.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></div> +<p>Grey’s sense of humour was not equal to the +occasion, and he took her remark quite seriously.</p> +<p>“A man must be a fool if he can’t run a farm,” he +said roughly.</p> +<p>“Many folks labour under that mistake,” the girl +replied. Then: “Say, when are you going to do this +thing?”</p> +<p>“Strangely enough, the critical moment will come +two days after our marriage. Let’s see. This is +Monday. We are to be married to-morrow week. +That will make it Thursday week.”</p> +<p>The girl sat herself up on the sofa, and her +young face expressed dismay.</p> +<p>“Right in the middle of our honeymoon. Oh, +Leslie!”</p> +<p>“It can’t be helped, dearest. I shall only be away +from you for that afternoon and the night. Think +of what it means to me. Everything.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes.” She sank back again upon the sofa. +There was the faintest glimmer of a smile in the +depths of her dark eyes. “I forgot what it meant to +you.”</p> +<p>The unconscious irony of her words fell upon +stony ground.</p> +<p>Prudence Malling was deeply in love with Leslie +Grey. How few men fully appreciate the priceless +treasure of a good woman’s regard.</p> +<p>“If I bring this off it means immediate promotion,” +Grey went on, in his blindly selfish way. “I must +succeed. I hate failure.”</p> +<p>“They will take you off the border, then,” said the +girl musingly. “That will mean––leaving here.”</p> +<p>“Which also means a big step up.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></div> +<p>“Of course––it will mean a big step up.”</p> +<p>The girl sighed. She loved the farm; that home +which she had always known. She changed the +subject suddenly.</p> +<p>“It must be nearly tea-time. We are going to +have tea early, Leslie, so that we can get through +with it comfortably before the people come.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I forgot you are having a ‘Progressive +Euchre’ party to-night. What time does it begin? +I mean the party.”</p> +<p>“Seven o’clock. But you are going to stay to +tea?”</p> +<p>Grey glanced up at the yellow face of the grandfather’s +clock and shook his head.</p> +<p>“Afraid not, little girl. I’ve got some work to do +in connection with Thursday week. I will drop in +about nine o’clock. Who’re coming?”</p> +<p>“Is it really necessary, this work?” There was a +touch of bitterness in Prudence’s voice. But the next +moment she went on cheerfully. She would not +allow herself to stand in her lover’s way. “The usual +people are coming. It will be just our monthly +gathering of neighbouring––moss-backs,” with a laugh. +“The Turners, the Furrers––Peter Furrers, of course; +he still hopes to cut you out––and the girls; old +Gleichen and his two sons, Harry and Tim. And the +Ganthorns from Rosebank and their cousins the +Covills of Lakeville. And––I almost forgot him––mother’s +flame, George Iredale of Lonely Ranch.”</p> +<p>“Is Iredale coming? It’s too bad of you to have +him here, Prue. Your mother’s flame––um, I like +that. Why, he’s been after you for over three years. +It’s not right to ask him when I am here, besides–––” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +Grey broke off abruptly. Darkness hid the angry +flush which had spread over his face. The girl knew +he was angry. His tone was raised, and there was +no mistaking Leslie Grey’s anger. He was very +nearly a gentleman, but not quite.</p> +<p>“I think I have a perfect right to ask him, Leslie,” +she answered seriously. “His coming can make no +possible difference to you. Frankly, I like him, but +that makes no difference to my love for you. Why, +you dear, silly thing, if he asked me from now till +Doomsday I wouldn’t marry him. He’s just a real +good friend. But still, if it will please you, I don’t +mind admitting that mother insisted on his coming, +and that I had nothing to do with it. That is why +I call him mother’s flame. Now, then, take that +ugly frown off your face and say you’re sorry.”</p> +<p>Grey showed no sign of obedience; he was very +angry. It was believed and put about by the busy-bodies +of the district, that George Iredale had sought +Prudence Malling in marriage ever since she had +grown up. He was a bachelor of close upon forty. +One of those quiet, determined men, slow of speech, +even clumsy, but quick to make up their minds, and +endowed with a great tenacity of purpose. A man +who rarely said he was going to do a thing, but +generally did it. These known features in a man who, +up to the time of the announcement of Prudence’s +engagement to Grey, had been a frequent visitor to +the farm, and who was also well known to be wealthy +and more than approved of by Mrs. Malling, no +doubt, gave a certain amount of colour to the belief of +those who chose to pry into their neighbours’ affairs.</p> +<p>“Anyway I don’t think there is room for both +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +Iredale and myself in the house,” Grey went on +heatedly. “If you didn’t want him you should have +put your foot down on your mother’s suggestion. I +don’t think I shall come to-night.”</p> +<p>For one moment the girl looked squarely into her +lover’s face and her pretty lips drew sharply together. +Then she spoke quite coldly.</p> +<p>“You will––or I’ll never speak to you again. You +are very foolish to make such a fuss.”</p> +<p>There was along silence between the lovers. Then +Grey drew out his watch, opened it, glanced at the +time, and snapped it closed again.</p> +<p>“I must go,” he said shortly.</p> +<p>Prudence had risen from the sofa. She no longer +seemed to heed her lover. She was looking across +the darkened room at the homely picture round the +glowing stove.</p> +<p>“Very well,” she said. And she moved away from +the man’s side.</p> +<p>The two old ladies pausing in their conversation +heard Grey’s announcement and the answer Prudence +made. Sarah Gurridge leaned towards her companion +with a confidential movement of the head. +The two grey heads came close together.</p> +<p>The school-ma’am whispered impressively––</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“‘Maid who angers faithful swain<br /> +Will shed more tears and know mere pain<br /> +Than she who loves and loves in vain.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Hephzibah laughed tolerantly. Sarah’s earnestness +never failed to amuse her.</p> +<p>“My dear,” the girl’s mother murmured back, when +her comfortable laugh had gurgled itself out, “young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +folks must skit-skat and bicker, or where would be +the making up? La, I’m sure when I was a girl I +used to tweak my poor Silas’s nose for the love of +making him angry––Silas had a long nose, my dear, +as you may remember. Men hate to be tweaked, +especially on their weak points. My Silas was always +silly about his nose. And we never had less than +half-an-hour’s making up. I wonder how Prudence +has tweaked Mr. Grey––I can’t bring myself to call +him Leslie, my dear.”</p> +<p>Prudence had reached her mother’s side. The two +old heads parted with guilty suddenness.</p> +<p>“Oh, my dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Malling, “how you +did startle me.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, mother,” the girl said, “but I wanted to +tell you that Leslie is not coming to-night.” Prudence +turned a mischievous face towards her lover.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling wrinkled up her smooth forehead. +She assumed an air of surprise.</p> +<p>“Why not, my child?”</p> +<p>“Oh, because you have asked Mr. Iredale. Leslie +says it isn’t right.”</p> +<p>Prudence was still looking in her lover’s direction. +He had his back turned. He was more angry than +ever now.</p> +<p>“My dears,” said her mother with an indulgent +smile, “you are a pair of silly noodles. But Mr. +Grey––I mean Leslie––must please himself. George +Iredale is coming because I have asked him. This +house is yours to come and go as you like––er––Leslie. +George Iredale has promised to come to the +cards to-night. Did I hear you say you were going +now? I should have taken it homely if you would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +have stayed to tea. The party begins at seven, don’t +forget.”</p> +<p>Three pairs of quizzical eyes were fixed upon Grey’s +good-looking but angry face. His anger was against +Prudence entirely now. She had made him look +foolish before these two ladies, and that was not +easily to be forgiven. Grey’s lack of humour made +him view things in a ponderous light. He felt most +uncomfortable under the laughing gaze of those three +ladies.</p> +<p>However, he would not give way an inch.</p> +<p>“Yes, I must go now,” he said ungraciously. “But +not on account of George Iredale,” he added blunderingly. +“I have some important work to do–––”</p> +<p>He was interrupted by a suppressed laugh from +Prudence. He turned upon her suddenly, glared, +then walked abruptly to the door.</p> +<p>“Good-bye,” he exclaimed shortly, and the door +closed sharply behind him.</p> +<p>“Why, Prudence,” said Mrs. Malling, turning her +round laughing face to her daughter and indicating +the door. “Aren’t you–––”</p> +<p>“No, I’m not, mother dear,” the girl answered with +a forced laugh.</p> +<p>Sarah Gurridge patted her late pupil’s shoulder +affectionately. But her head shook gravely as though +a weight of worldly wisdom was hers.</p> +<p>“I don’t think he’ll stay away,” said the mother, +with a tender glance in the girl’s direction.</p> +<p>“He hasn’t chin enough,” said Sarah, who prided +herself upon her understanding of physiognomy.</p> +<p>“Indeed he has,” retorted Prudence, who heard the +remark.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div> +<p>Mrs. Malling was right, Leslie Grey was not going +to stay away. He had no intention of doing so. But +his reasons were quite apart from those Hephzibah +Malling attributed to him. He wished to see George +Iredale, and because of the man’s coming Grey would +forego his angry desire to retaliate upon Prudence. +He quite ignored what he was pleased to call his own +pride in the matter. He would come because he had +what he considered excellent reasons for so doing.</p> +<p>Prudence lit the lamps and laid the table for tea. +Her mother ambled off to the great kitchen as fast as +her bulk would allow her. There were many things +in that wonderful place to see to for the supper, and +on these occasions Mrs. Malling would not trust their +supervision even to Prudence, much less to the hired +girl, Mary. Sarah Gurridge remained in her seat by +the stove watching the glowing coals dreamily, her +mind galloping ahead through fanciful scenes of her +own imagination. Had she been asked she would +probably have stated that she was looking forward into +the future of the pair who were so soon to be married.</p> +<p>Prudence went on quietly and nimbly with her +work. Presently Sarah turned, and after a moment’s +intent gaze at the trim, rounded figure, said in her +profoundest tone––</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“‘Harvest your wheat ere the August frost;<br /> +One breath of cold and the crop is lost.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“Oh, bother––there, I’ve set a place for Leslie,” +exclaimed Prudence in a tone of vexation. “What is +that about ‘frost’ and ‘lost’?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, dear, I was only thinking aloud.” And +Sarah Gurridge relapsed into silence, and continued +to bask in the warm glow of the stove.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_THE_RETURN_OF_THE_PRODIGAL' id='CHAPTER_V_THE_RETURN_OF_THE_PRODIGAL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL</h3> +</div> +<p>Grey strode away from the house in no very +amiable frame of mind. A fenced-in patch, planted +with blue-gums and a mass of low-growing shrubs, +formed a sort of garden in front of the farm.</p> +<p>This enclosure was devoid of all artistic effect, +but in summer-time it served as a screen to break +the rigour of the wooden farm-buildings. It was a +practical but incongruous piece of man’s handiwork, +divided down the centre by a pathway bordered with +overlapped hoopings of bent red willow switches, +which, even in winter, protruded hideously above the +beaten snow. The path led to a front gate of +primitive and bald manufacture, but stout and serviceable, +as was everything else about the farm. And +this was the main approach to the house.</p> +<p>It was necessary for Grey, having taken his +departure by the front door, to pass out through this +gate in order to reach the barn where he had left his +saddle-horse. He might have saved himself this +trouble by leaving the house by the back door, which +opened out directly opposite the entrance to the great +barn. But he was in no mood for back doors; the +condition of his mind demanded nothing less than a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +dignified exit, and a dignified exit is never compatible +with a back door. Had he left Loon Dyke Farm in +an amiable frame of mind, much that was to happen +in his immediate future might have been different.</p> +<p>But the writing had been set forth, and there was +no altering it.</p> +<p>He walked with a great show of unnecessary +energy. It was his nature to do so. His energy was +almost painful to behold. Too much vigour and +energy is almost worse than chronic indolence; sooner +or later people so afflicted find themselves in +difficulties.</p> +<p>It was more than a year since his misadventure in +the mountains. He had suffered for his own wrong-headedness +over that matter, but he had not profited +by his experience; he was incapable of doing so. His +length of service and reputation for hard work had +saved him from dismissal, but Chillingwood was less +fortunate; subordinates in Government service generally +are less fortunate when their superiors blunder.</p> +<p>However, Grey had outlived that unpleasantness. +He was not the man to brood over disaster. Soon +after he had been transferred to Ainsley the Town +Clerkship fell vacant. He did what he could for +Chillingwood, with the result that the younger man +eventually secured the post, and thus found himself +enjoying a bare existence on an income of $500 per +annum.</p> +<p>Halfway down the path Grey became aware of a +horseman approaching the farm. The figure was +moving along slowly over the trail from Ainsley. In +the dusk the horse appeared to be jaded; its head +hung down, and its gait was ambling. The stranger +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +was tall, but beyond that Grey could see nothing, +for the face was almost entirely hidden in the depths +of the storm-collar of his coat. The officer looked +hard at the new-comer. It was part of his work +to know, at least by sight, every inhabitant of his +district. This man was quite a stranger to him. +The horse was unknown to him, and the fur coat was +unfamiliar. In winter these things usually mark a +man out to his acquaintances. The horse shows up +against the snow, and the prairie man does not usually +possess two fur coats.</p> +<p>On the stranger’s first appearance Grey’s thoughts +had at once flown to George Iredale, but now, as he +realized that the man was unknown to him, his +interest relaxed. However, he walked slowly on to +the gate so that he might obtain a closer inspection. +Horse and rider were about twenty-five yards off +when Grey reached the gate, and he saw that they +were followed at some distance by a great wolfish-looking +hound.</p> +<p>The evening shadows had grown rapidly. The +grey vault of snow-clouds above made the twilight +much darker than usual. Grey waited. The traveller +silently drew up his horse, and for a moment sat +gazing at the figure by the gate. All that was +visible of his face was the suggestion of a nose and +a pair of large dark eyes.</p> +<p>Grey opened the gate and passed out.</p> +<p>“Evening,” said the horseman, in a voice muffled by +the fur of his coat-collar.</p> +<p>“Good-evening,” replied Grey shortly.</p> +<p>“Loon Dyke Farm,” said the stranger, in a tone less +of inquiry than of making a statement.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></div> +<p>Grey nodded, and turned to move away. Then he +seemed to hesitate, and turned again to the stranger. +Those eyes! Where had he seen just such a pair of +eyes before? He tried to think, but somehow his +memory failed him. The horseman had turned his +face towards the house and so the great roving eyes +were hidden. But Grey was too intent upon the +business he had in hand to devote much thought to +anything else.</p> +<p>There was no further reason for remaining; he had +satisfied his curiosity. He would learn all about the +stranger later on.</p> +<p>He hurried round to the stables. When he had +gone the stranger dismounted; for a moment or two +he stood with one hand on the gate and the other +holding the horse’s reins, gazing after the retreating +form of the Customs officer. He waited until the +other had disappeared, then leisurely hitched his +horse’s reins on to the fence of the enclosure, and, +passing in through the gate, approached the house. +Presently he saw Grey ride away, and a close observer +might have detected the sound of a heavy sigh +escaping from between the embracing folds of the fur +collar as the man walked up the path and rapped +loudly upon the front door with his mitted fist. The +three-footed hound had closed up on his master, and +now stood beside him.</p> +<p>Prudence opened the door. Tea was just ready; +and she answered the summons, half expecting to +find that her lover had thought better of his ill-humour +and had returned to share the evening meal. +She drew back well within the house when she +realized her mistake. The stranger stood for one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +second as though in doubt; then his voice reached the +waiting girl.</p> +<p>“Prudence, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>The girl started. Then a smile broke over her +pretty, dark face.</p> +<p>“Why, it’s Hervey––brother Hervey. Here, +mother,” she called back into the house. “Quick, +here’s Hervey. Why, you dear boy, I didn’t expect +you for at least a week––and then I wasn’t sure you +would come. You got my letter safely then, and you +must have started off almost at once––you’re a real +good brother to come so soon. Yes, in here; tea is +just ready. Take off your coat. Come along, +mother,” she called out again joyously. “Hurry; come +as fast as you can; Hervey is here.” And she ran +away towards the kitchen. Her mother’s movements +were far too slow to suit her.</p> +<p>The man removed his coat, and voices reached him +from the direction of the kitchen.</p> +<p>“Dearie me, but, child, you do rush one about so. +Where is he? There, you’ve left the door open; and +whose is that hideous brute of a dog? Why, it looks +like a timber-wolf. Send him out.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling talked far more rapidly than she +walked, or rather trotted, under the force of her +daughter’s bustling excitement. Hervey went out +into the hall to meet her. Standing framed in the +doorway he saw his dog.</p> +<p>“Get out, you brute,” he shouted, and stepping +quickly up to the animal he launched a cruel kick at +it which caught it squarely on the chest. The beast +turned solemnly away without a sound, and Hervey +closed the door.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div> +<p>The mother was the first to meet him. Her stout +arms were outstretched, while her face beamed with +pride, and her eyes were filled with tears of joy.</p> +<p>“My dear, dear boy,” she exclaimed, smiling +happily. Hervey made no reciprocal movement. +He merely bent his head down to her level and +allowed her to kiss his cheek. She hugged him +forcefully to her ample bosom, an embrace from +which he quickly released himself. Her words then +poured forth in a swift, incoherent flow. “And to +think I believed that I should never see you again. +And how you have grown and filled out. Just like +your father. And where have you been all this time, +and have you kept well? Look at the tan on his +face, Prudence, and the beard too. Why, I should +hardly have known you, boy, if I hadn’t ’a known +who it was. Why, you must be inches taller than +your father for sure––and he was a tall man. But +you must tell me all about yourself when the folks +are all gone to-night. We are having a party, you +know. And isn’t it nice?––you will be here for +Prudence’s wedding–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t you think we’d better go into the parlour +instead of standing out here?” the girl interrupted +practically. Her mother’s rambling remarks had +shown no sign of cessation, and the tea was waiting. +“Hervey must be tired and hungry.”</p> +<p>“Well, I must confess I am utterly worn out,” the +man replied with a laugh. “Yes, mother, if tea is +ready let’s come along. We can talk during the +meal.”</p> +<p>They passed into the parlour. As they seated +themselves at the table, Sarah Gurridge joined them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +from her place beside the stove. Hervey had not +noticed her presence when he first entered the room, +and the good school-ma’am, quietly day-dreaming, had +barely awakened to the fact of his coming. Now she, +too, joined in the enthusiasm of the moment.</p> +<p>“Ah, Hervey,” she said, with that complacent air +of proprietorship which our early preceptors invariably +assume, “you haven’t forgotten me, I know.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>‘Though the tempest of life will oft shut out the past,<br /> +The thoughts of our school-days remain to the last.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“Glad to see you, Mrs. Gurridge. No, I haven’t +forgotten you,” the man replied.</p> +<p>A slight pause followed. The women-folk had so +much to say that they hardly knew where to begin. +That trifling hesitation might have been accounted +for by this fact. Or it might have been that Hervey +was less overjoyed at his home-coming than were +his mother and sister.</p> +<p>Prudence was the first to speak.</p> +<p>“Funny that I should have set a place more than +I intended at the tea-table,” she said, “and funnier +still that when I found out what I’d done I didn’t +remove the plate and things. And now you turn up.” +She laughed joyously.</p> +<p>Sarah Gurridge looked over in the girl’s direction +and shook an admonitory forefinger at her.</p> +<p>“Mr. Grey, my dear––you were thinking of Mr. +Grey, in spite of your lover’s tiff.”</p> +<p>“Who did you say?” asked Hervey, with a quick +glance at Prudence.</p> +<p>“Leslie Grey,” said his mother, before the old +school-ma’am could reply. “Didn’t our Prudence tell +you when she wrote? He’s the man she’s going to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +marry. I must say he’s not the man I should have +set on for her; but she’s got her own ploughing to +seed, and I’m not the one to say her ‘nay’ when she +chooses her man.”</p> +<p>Hervey busied himself with his food, nor did he +look up when he spoke.</p> +<p>“That was Grey, I s’pose, I saw riding away as I +came up? Good, square-set chunk of a man.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he left just before you came,” said Prudence. +“But never mind about him, brother. Tell us about +yourself. Have you made a fortune?”</p> +<p>“For sure, he must,” said their mother, gazing with +round, proud eyes upon her boy, “for how else came +he to travel from California to here, just to set his +eyes on us and see a slip of a girl take to herself a +husband? My, but it’s a great journey for a boy to +take.”</p> +<p>“Nothing to what I’ve done in my time,” replied +Hervey. “Besides, mother, I’ve got further to go +yet. And as for sister Prudence’s marriage, I’m +afraid I can’t stay for that.”</p> +<p>“Not stay?” exclaimed his mother.</p> +<p>“Do you mean it?” asked his sister incredulously.</p> +<p>Sarah Gurridge contented herself with looking her +dismay.</p> +<p>“You see, it’s like this,” said Hervey. He had an +uncomfortable habit of keeping his eyes fixed upon +the table, only just permitting himself occasional +swift upward glances over the other folk’s heads. +“When I got your letter, Prudence, I was just preparing +to come up from Los Mares to go and see a +big fruit-grower at Niagara. The truth is that my +fruit farm is a failure and I am trying to sell it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></div> +<p>“My poor boy!” exclaimed his mother; “and you +never told me. But there, you were always as proud +as proud, and never would let me help you. Your +poor father was just the same; when things went +wrong he wouldn’t own up to any one. I remember +how we lost sixty acres of forty-bushel, No. 1 wheat +with an August frost. I never learned it till we’d +taken in the finest crop in the district at the next +harvesting. But you didn’t put all your savings into +fruit?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I did, mother, worse luck.”</p> +<p>“All you made up at the Yukon goldfields?” +asked Prudence, alarm in her voice.</p> +<p>“Every cent.”</p> +<p>There followed a dead silence.</p> +<p>“Then–––” Mrs. Malling could get no further.</p> +<p>“I’m broke––dead broke. And I’m going East to +sell my land to pay off my debts. I’ve had an offer +for it, and I’m going to clinch the deal quick. Say, +I just came along here to see you, and I’m going on +at once. I only got into Winnipeg yesterday. I +rode out without delay, but struck the Ainsley trail, +or I should have been here sooner. Now, see here, +mother,” Hervey went on, as a woe-begone expression +closely verging on tears came into the old dame’s +eyes, “it’s no use crying over this business. What’s +done is done. I’m going to get clear of my farm +first, and maybe afterwards I’ll come here again and +we’ll talk things over a bit.”</p> +<p>Prudence sat staring at her brother, but Hervey +avoided her gaze. Mrs. Malling was too heartbroken +to speak yet. Her weather-tanned face had blanched +as much as it was possible for it to do. Her boy had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +gone out upon the world to seek his fortune, and he +had succeeded in establishing himself, he had written +and told her. He had found gold in quantities in the +Yukon valley, and now––now, at last, he had failed. +The shock had for the moment crushed her; her boy, +her proud independent boy, as she had been wont +to consider him, had failed. She did not ask herself, +or him, the reason of his failure. Such failure, she +felt, must be through no fault of his, but the result of +adverse circumstances.</p> +<p>She never thought of the gambling-table. She +never thought of reckless living. Such things could +not enter her simple mind and be in any way +associated with her boy. Hephzibah Malling loved +her son; to her he was the king who could do no +wrong. She continued to gaze blankly in the man’s +direction.</p> +<p>Sarah Gurridge alone of the trio allowed herself +sidelong, speculative glances at the man’s face. She +had seen the furtive overhead glances; the steady +avoidance of the loving observation of his womankind. +She had known Hervey as well, and perhaps just a +shade better than his mother and sister had; and +long since, in his childish school-days, she had detected +a lurking weakness in an otherwise good character. +She wondered now if he had lived to outgrow that +juvenile trait, or had it grown with him, gaining +strength as the greater passions of manhood +developed?</p> +<p>After the first shock of Hervey’s announcement +had passed, Mrs. Malling sought refuge in the consolation +of her own ability to help her son. He must +never know want, or suffer the least privation. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +could and would give him everything he needed. +Besides, after all, she argued with womanly feeling, +now perhaps she could persuade him to look after the +farm for her; to stay by her side. He should be in +no way dependent. She would install him as manager +at a comfortable salary. The idea pleased her beyond +measure, and it was with difficulty she could keep +herself from at once putting her proposal into words. +However, by a great effort, she checked her enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“Then when do you think of going East?” she +asked, with some trepidation. “You won’t go at +once, sure.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I must go at once,” Hervey replied promptly. +“That is, to-morrow morning.”</p> +<p>“Then you will stay to-night,” said Prudence.</p> +<p>“Yes; but only to get a good long sleep and rest +my horse. I’m thoroughly worn out. I’ve been in +saddle since early this morning.”</p> +<p>“Have you sent your horse round to the barn?” +asked Sarah Gurridge.</p> +<p>“Well, no. He’s hitched to the fence.” The +observing Sarah had been sure of it.</p> +<p>Prudence rose from her seat and called out to the +hired girl––</p> +<p>“Mary, send out and tell Andy to take the horse +round to the barn. He’s hitched to the fence.” Then +she came back. “You’ll join our party to-night, of +course.”</p> +<p>“Hoity, girl, of course not,” said their mother. +“How’s the lad going to get rest gallivanting with a +lot of clowns who can only talk of ‘bowers’ and +‘jokers’? You think of nothing but ‘how-de-doin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +with your neighbours since you’re going to be married. +Things were different in my day. I’ll look after +Hervey,” she continued, turning to her son. “You +shall have a good night, lad, or my name’s not +Hephzibah Malling. Maybe you’ll tell me by and by +what you’d like to do.”</p> +<p>“That’s right, mother,” replied Hervey, with an air +of relief. “You understand what it is for a man to +need rest. I’ll just hang around till the folks come, and +then sneak off to bed. You don’t mind, Prue, do +you? I’m dead beat, and I want to leave at daybreak.”</p> +<p>“Mind?” answered Prudence; “certainly not, +Hervey. I should have liked you to meet Mr. Grey, +but you must get your rest.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” added her mother, “and as for meeting +Mr. Grey––well, your brother won’t sicken for want of +seeing him, I’ll wager. Come along, Hervey, we’ll go +to the kitchen; Prudence has to get her best parlour +ready for these chattering noodles. And, miss,” turning +to her daughter with an expression of pretended +severity, “don’t forget that I’ve got a batch o’ layer +cakes in the ice-box, and you’ve not told me what you +want in the way of drinks. La, young folks never +think of the comforts. I’m sure I don’t know what +you’ll do without your mother, girl. Some o’ these +times your carelessness will get your parties made a +laughing-stock of. Come along, Hervey.”</p> +<p>The old lady bustled out, bearing her son off in +triumph to the kitchen. She was quite happy again +now. Her scheme for her son’s welfare had shut out +all thought of his bad news. Most women are like +this; the joy of giving to their own is perhaps the +greatest joy in the life of a mother.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></div> +<p>In the hall they met the flying, agitated figure of +the hired girl, Mary.</p> +<p>“Oh, please, ’m, there’s such a racket going on by +the barn. There’s Andy an’ the two dogs fighting +with a great, strange, three-legged dog wot looks like +a wolf. They’re that mussed up that I don’t know, +I’m sure.”</p> +<p>“It’s that brute Neche of mine,” said Hervey, with +an imprecation. “It’s all right, girl; I’ll go.”</p> +<p>Hervey rushed out to the barn. The great three-legged +savage was in the midst of a fierce scrimmage. +Two farm dogs were attacking him. They were both +half-bred sheep-dogs. One was making futile attempts +to get a hold upon the stranger, and Neche was +shaking the other as a terrier would shake a rat. +And Andy, the choreman, was lambasting the intruder +with the business end of a two-tine hay-fork, and +shouting frightful curses at him in a strong American +accent.</p> +<p>As Hervey came upon the scene, Neche hurled his +victim from him, either dead or dying, for the dog lay +quite still where it fell upon the snow. Then, impervious +to the onslaught of the choreman, he seized +the other dog.</p> +<p>“Come out of it, Andy,” cried Hervey.</p> +<p>The hired man ceased his efforts at once, glad to be +done with the savage. Hervey then ran up to the +infuriated husky, and dealt him two or three terrible +kicks.</p> +<p>The dog turned round instantly. His fangs were +dripping with blood, and he snarled fiercely, his +baleful eyes glowing with ferocity. But he slunk +off when he recognized his assailant, allowing the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +second dog to run for its life, howling with canine +fear.</p> +<p>Andy went over to the dog that was stretched upon +the snow.</p> +<p>“Guess ’e’s done, boss,” he said, looking up at +Hervey as the latter came over to his side. “Say, +that’s about the slickest scrapper round these parts. +Gee-whizz, ’e went fur me like the tail end o’ a +cyclone when I took your plug to the barn. It was +they curs that kind o’ distracted his attention. Mebbe +thar’s more wolf nor dog in him. Mebbe, I sez.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he’s a devil-tempered husky,” said Hervey. +“I’ll have to shoot him one of these days.”</p> +<p>“Wa’al, I do ’lows that it’s a mercy ’e ain’t got +no more’n three shanks. Mackinaw! but he’s +handy.”</p> +<p>The four women had watched the scene from the +kitchen door. Hervey came over to where they were +standing.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, mother,” he said. “Neche has killed +one of your dogs. He’s a fiend for fighting. I’ve a +good mind to shoot him now.”</p> +<p>“No, don’t go for to do that,” said his mother. +“We oughtn’t to have sent Andy to take your horse. +I expect the beast thought he was doing right.”</p> +<p>“He’s a brute. Curse him!”</p> +<p>Prudence said nothing. Now she moved a little +away from the house and talked to the dog. He was +placidly, and with no show of penitence, lying down +and licking a laceration on one of his front legs. He +occasionally shook his great head, and stained the +snow with the blood which dripped from his fierce-looking +ears. He paused in his operation at the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +sound of the girl’s voice, and looked up. Her tone +was gentle and caressing. Hervey suddenly called to +her.</p> +<p>“Don’t go near him. He’s as treacherous as a +dogone Indian.”</p> +<p>“Come back,” called out her mother.</p> +<p>The girl paid no attention. She called again, and +patted her blue apron encouragingly. The animal +rose slowly to his feet, looked dubiously in her +direction, then, without any display of enthusiasm, +came slowly towards her. His limp added to his +wicked aspect, but he came, nor did he stop until his +head was resting against her dress, and her hand was +caressing his great back. The huge creature seemed +to appreciate the girl’s attitude, for he made no +attempt to move away. It is probable that this was +the first caress the dog had ever known in all his +savage life.</p> +<p>Hervey looked on and scratched his beard thoughtfully, +but he said nothing more. Mrs. Malling went +back to the kitchen. Sarah Gurridge alone had +anything to say.</p> +<p>“Poor creature,” she observed, in tones of deep +pity. “I wonder how he lost his foot. Is he always +fighting? A poor companion, I should say.”</p> +<p>Hervey laughed unpleasantly.</p> +<p>“Oh, he’s not so bad. He’s savage, and all that +But he’s a good friend.”</p> +<p>“Ah, and a deadly enemy. I suppose he’s very +fond of you. He lets you kick him,” she added +significantly.</p> +<p>“I hardly know––and I must say I don’t much +care––what his feelings are towards me. Yes, he lets +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +me kick him.” Then, after a pause, “But I think he +really hates me.”</p> +<p>And Hervey turned abruptly and went back into +the kitchen. He preferred the more pleasant atmosphere +of his mother’s adulation to the serious +reflections of Sarah Gurridge.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_THE_PROGRESSIVE_EUCHRE_PARTY' id='CHAPTER_VI_THE_PROGRESSIVE_EUCHRE_PARTY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>THE PROGRESSIVE EUCHRE PARTY</h3> +</div> +<p>The Mallings always had a good gathering at their +card parties. Such form of entertainment and +dances were the chief winter amusement of these +prairie-bred folks. A twenty-mile drive in a box-sleigh, +clad in furs, buried beneath heavy fur robes, +and reclining on a deep bedding of sweet-smelling +hay, in lieu of seats, made the journey as comfortable +to such people as would the more luxurious brougham +to the wealthy citizen of civilization. There was +little thought of display amongst the farmers of +Manitoba. When they went to a party their primary +object was enjoyment, and they generally contrived to +obtain their desire at these gatherings. Journeys +were chiefly taken in parties; and the amount of +snugness obtained in the bottom of a box-sleigh +would be surprising to those without such experience. +There was nothing <i>blasé</i> about the simple country +folk. A hard day’s work was nothing to them. They +would follow it up by an evening’s enjoyment with +the keenest appreciation; and they knew how to +revel with the best.</p> +<p>The first to arrive at Loon Dyke Farm were the +Furrers. Daisy, Fortune, and Rachel, three girls of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +round proportions, all dressed alike, and of age ranging +in the region of twenty. They spoke well and +frequently; and their dancing eyes and ready laugh +indicated spirits at concert pitch. These three were +great friends of Prudence, and were loud in their +admiration of her. Peter Furrer, their brother, was +with them; he was a red-faced boy of about seventeen, +a giant of flesh, and a pigmy of intellect––outside of +farming operations. Mrs. Furrer accompanied the +party as chaperon––for even in the West chaperons +are recognized as useful adjuncts, and, besides, enjoyment +is not always a question of age.</p> +<p>Following closely on the heels of the Furrers came +old Gleichen and his two sons, Tim and Harry. +Gleichen was a well-to-do “mixed” farmer––a +widower who was looking out for a partner as staid +and robust as himself. His two sons were less of the +prairie than their father, by reason of an education at +St. John’s University in Winnipeg. Harry was an +aspirant to Holy Orders, and already had charge of a +mission in the small neighbouring settlement of Lakeville. +Tim acted as foreman to his father’s farm; a +boy of enterprising ideas, and who never hesitated to +advocate to his steady-going parent the advantage of +devoting himself to stock-raising.</p> +<p>Others arrived in quick succession; a truly agricultural +gathering. Amongst the latest of the early +arrivals were the Ganthorns; mother, son, and +daughter, pretentious folk of considerable means, and +recently imported from the Old Country.</p> +<p>By half-past seven everybody had arrived with the +exception of George Iredale and Leslie Grey. The +fun began from the very first.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>The dining-table had disappeared from the parlour, +as had the rugs from the floor, and somehow a layer +of white wax, like an incipient fall of snow, lay invitingly +on the bare white pine boarding. And, too, it +seemed only natural that the moment she came into +the room ready for the fray, Daisy Furrer should +make a rush for the ancient piano, and tinkle out +with fair execution the strains of an old waltz. Her +efforts broke up any sign of constraint; everybody +knew everybody else, so they danced. This was the +beginning; cards would come later.</p> +<p>They could all dance, and right well, too. Faces +devoid of the absorbing properties of powder quickly +shone with the exercise; complexions innocent of all +trace of pigments and the toilet arts glowed with a +healthy hue and beamed with perfect happiness. +There could be no doubt that Prudence and her +mother knew their world as well as any hostess could +wish. And it was all so easy; no formality, few +punctilios to observe––just free-and-easy good-fellowship.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling emerged from the region of the +kitchen. She was a little heated with her exertions, +and a stray wisp or two of grey hair escaping from +beneath her quaint lace cap testified to her culinary +exertions. She had been stooping at her ovens +regardless of her appearance. She found her daughter +standing beside the door of the parlour engaged in a +desultory conversation with Peter Furrer. Prudence +hailed her mother with an air of relief, and the +monumental Peter moved heavily away.</p> +<p>“Oh, mother dear, it’s too bad of you,” exclaimed +the girl, gazing at her critically. “And after all the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +trouble I took with your cap! Look at it now. It’s +all on one side, and your hair is sticking out like––like––Timothy +grass. Stand still while I fix it.”</p> +<p>The girl’s deft fingers soon arranged her mother +afresh, the old lady protesting all the while, but +submitting patiently to the operation.</p> +<p>“There, there; you children think of nothing but +pushing and patting and tittivating. La, but one ’ud +think I was going to sit down at table with a King or +a Minister of the Church. Nobody’s going to look at +me, child––until the victuals come on. Besides, what +does it matter with neighbours? Look at old Gleichen +over there, bowing and scraping to Mrs. Ganthorn; +one would think it wasn’t his way to do nothing else. +He’s less elaborate when he’s trailing after his plough. +My, but I can’t abide such pretending. Guess some +folks think women are blind. And where’s George +Iredale? I don’t see him. Now there’d be some +excuse for his doing the grand. He’s a gentleman +born and bred.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, mother, we all know your weakness for +Mr. Iredale,” replied Prudence, with an affectionate +finishing pat to the grey old head. “But then he +just wouldn’t ‘bow and scrape,’ as you call it, to +Mrs. Ganthorn or anybody else. He’s not the sort +for that kind of thing. He hasn’t come yet. I’ll +bring him to you at once, dear, when he arrives,” +she finished up with a laugh.</p> +<p>“You’re a saucy hussy,” her mother returned, with +a chuckle. Then: “But I’d have taken to him as +a son. Girls never learn anything now-a-days until +they’re married to the man they fancy.”</p> +<p>“Nothing like personal experience, lady mother. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +Did you ask any one’s advice when you married +father?”</p> +<p>“That I didn’t for sure, child, but it was different. +Your father, Silas, wasn’t the man to be put off with +any notions. He just said he was going to marry +me––and he did marry me. I was all sort of swept +off my feet.”</p> +<p>“But still you chose him yourself,” persisted the +girl, laughing.</p> +<p>“Well, maybe I did, child, maybe I did.”</p> +<p>“And <i>you</i> didn’t regret your own choice, mother; +so why should I?”</p> +<p>“Ah, it was different with me––quite different. +Ah, there’s some one coming in.” Hephzibah Malling +turned as she spoke, glad to be able to change the +subject. The front door was opened, and a fur-clad +figure entered. “It’s George Iredale,” she went on, +as the man removed his cap and displayed a crown +of dark-brown hair, tinged here and there with grey, +a broad high forehead and a pair of serious eyes.</p> +<p>“Come along, George.” Mrs. Malling bustled forward, +followed by her daughter. “I thought you +couldn’t get, maybe. The folks are all dancing and +dallying. You must come into the kitchen first and +have something warm. It’s a cold night.”</p> +<p>“I meant to come earlier,” replied the new arrival, +in a deep, quiet voice. “Unfortunately, just as I +was going to start, word was brought in to me that +a suspicious-looking horseman was hovering round. +You see my place is so isolated that any arrival has +to be inquired into. There are so many horse-thieves +and other dangerous characters about that I have to +be careful. Well, I rode out to ascertain who the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +intruder was, but I lost him. That delayed me. +How are you, and Prudence too? Why, it’s ages +since I’ve seen either of you. Yes, something hot is +always welcome after a long winter’s ride.”</p> +<p>George Iredale had divested himself of his coat +and over-shoes, and now followed his hostess to +the kitchen. He was a man of considerable inches, +being little short of six feet in height. He was +powerfully built, although his clothes disguised the +fact to a large extent, and his height made him look +even slim. He had a strong, keen, plain face that +was very large-featured, and would undoubtedly have +been downright ugly but for an expression of kindly +patience, not unmixed with a suspicion of amused +tolerance. It was the face of a man in whom women +like to place confidence, and with whom men never +attempt to take liberties. He had, too, a charm of +manner unusual in men living the rough life of the +prairie.</p> +<p>The tinkling strains of the waltz had ceased, and +Prudence went back to the parlour. She felt that +it was high time to set the tables for “progressive +euchre.” It was past eight and Grey had not turned +up. She began to think he intended carrying out +his threat of staying away. Well, if he chose to do +so he could. She wouldn’t ask him to do otherwise. +She felt unhappy about him in spite of her brave +thoughts.</p> +<p>Her announcement of cards was hailed with delight, +and the guests departed with a rush to search +the house for a sufficient number of small tables to +cope with the requirements of the game.</p> +<p>In the kitchen George Iredale was slowly sipping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +a steaming glass of rye whisky toddy. He was +seated in a rigid, high-backed arm-chair, well away +from the huge cook-stove, at which Hephzibah +Malling was presiding. Many kettles and saucepans +stood steaming upon the black iron top, and the +occasional opening and shutting of the ovens told of +dainties which needed the old farm-wife’s most +watchful care. Mrs. Malling’s occupation, however, +did not interrupt her flow of conversation. George +Iredale was a great favourite of hers.</p> +<p>“He’s like his poor father in some things,” she +was saying, as she lifted a batch of small biscuits +out of the oven and moved towards the ice-box with +them. “He never squealed about his misfortune to +me. Not one letter did I get asking for help. He’s +proud, is Hervey. And now I don’t know, I’m sure.”</p> +<p>She paused with her hand on the open door of the +refrigerator and looked back into the man’s face.</p> +<p>“Did he tell you any details of his failure? What +was responsible for it?” Iredale asked, poising his +glass on one of the unyielding arms of his chair.</p> +<p>“No, that he didn’t, not even that,” in a tone of +pride. “He just said he’d failed. That he was +‘broke.’ He’s too knocked up with travelling––he’s +come from Winnipeg right here––or you should hear +it from his own lips. He never blamed no one.”</p> +<p>“Ah––and you are going to help him, Mrs. +Malling. What are you going to do?”</p> +<p>“That’s where I’m fixed some. Money he can +have––all he wants.”</p> +<p>Iredale shook his head gravely.</p> +<p>“Bad policy, Mrs. Malling––until you know all the +facts.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></div> +<p>“What, my own flesh and blood, too? Well, +there–––”</p> +<p>“I mean nothing derogatory to your boy, believe +me,” interrupted Iredale, as he noted the heightened +colour of face and the angry sparkle that flashed +in the good dame’s eyes “I simply mean that it +is useless to throw good money after bad. Fruit +farming is a lottery in which the prizes go to those +who take the most tickets. In other words, it is a +question of acreage. A small man may lose his +crop through blight, drought, a hundred causes. +The larger man has a better chance by reason of +the extent of his crop. Now I should take it, you +could do better for your son by obtaining all the +facts, sorting them out and then deciding what to +do. My experience prompts me to suggest another +business. Why not the farm?”</p> +<p>All signs of resentment had left Mrs. Malling’s +face. She deposited her biscuits and returned to the +stove, standing before her guest with her hands +buried deep in her apron pockets and a delighted +smile on her face.</p> +<p>“That’s just what I thought at once,” she said. +“You’re real smart, George; why not the farm? I says +that to myself right off. I couldn’t do better, I know, +but there’s drawbacks. Yes, drawbacks. Hervey isn’t +much for the petticoats––meaning his own folks. He’s +not one to play second fiddle, so to speak. Now while +I live the farm is mine, and I learned my business +from one who could teach me––my Silas. Now I’d +make Hervey my foreman and give him a good wage. +He’d have all he wants, but he’d have to be <i>my</i> foreman.” +The old lady shook her head dubiously.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></div> +<p>“And you think Hervey wouldn’t accept a subordinate +position?”</p> +<p>“He’s that proud. Just like my poor Silas,” +murmured the mother.</p> +<p>“Then he’s a fool. But you try him,” Iredale said +dryly.</p> +<p>“Do you think he might?”</p> +<p>“You never can tell.”</p> +<p>“I wonder now if you––yes, I’ll ask him.”</p> +<p>“Offer it to him, you mean.” George Iredale +smiled quietly.</p> +<p>“Yes, offer it to him,” the old lady corrected herself +thoughtfully. “But I’m forgetting my stewing +oysters, and Mistress Prudence will get going on––for +she had them sent up all the way from St. John’s––if +they’re burned.” She turned to one of the kettles +and began stirring at once. “Hervey is coming back +after he’s been to Niagara, and I’ll talk to him then. +I wish you could have seen him before he went, but +he’s abed.”</p> +<p>“Never mind, there’s time enough when he comes +back. Ah, Prudence, how is the euchre ‘progressing’?” +Iredale turned as the girl came hurriedly in.</p> +<p>“Oh, here you are. You two gossiping as usual. +Mother, it’s too bad of you to rob me of my guests. +But I came to ask for more lemonade.”</p> +<p>“Dip it out of yonder kettle, child. And you can +take George off at once. It’s high time he got at the +cards.”</p> +<p>“He’s too late, the game is nearly over. He’ll +have to sit out with Leslie. He, also, was too late. +Come along, Mr. Iredale,”––she had filled the lemonade +pitcher,––“and, mother, when shall you be ready +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +with the supper? Remember, you’ve got to come +and give out the prizes to the winners before that.”</p> +<p>“Also to the losers,” put in Iredale.</p> +<p>“Yes, they must all have prizes. What time, +mother?”</p> +<p>“In an hour. And be off, the pair of you. Mary! +Mary!” the old lady called out, moving towards the +summer kitchen. “Bustle about, girl, and count down +the plates from the dresser. La, look at you,” she +went on, as the hired girl came running in; “where’s the +cap I gave you? And for good-a-mussey’s sake go +and scrub your hands. My, but girls be jades.”</p> +<p>Iredale and Prudence went off to the parlour. The +game was nearly over, and the guests were laughing +and chattering noisily. The excitement was intense. +Leslie Grey sat aloof. He was engaged in a pretence +at conversation with Sarah Gurridge, but, to judge +by the expression of his face, his temper was still +sulky or his thoughts were far away. The moment +Iredale entered the room Grey’s face lit up with +something like interest.</p> +<p>Prudence, accompanying the rancher, was quick to +observe the change. She had been prepared for +something of the sort, although the reason she assigned +to his interest was very wide of the mark. She smiled +to herself as she turned to reply to something Iredale +had just said.</p> +<p>The evening passed in boisterous jollification. And +after the prizes had been awarded supper was served. +A solid supper, just such a repast as these people +could and did appreciate. The delicacies Mrs. +Malling offered to her guests were something to be +remembered. She spared no pains, and even her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +enemies, if she had any, which is doubtful, admitted +that she could cook; such an admission amongst +the prairie folks was a testimonial of the highest +order.</p> +<p>After supper George Iredale, whose quiet manner +and serious face debarred him from the revels of the +younger men, withdrew to a small work-room which +was usually set aside on these occasions for the use of +those who desired to smoke. Leslie Grey, who had +been talking to Mrs. Malling, and who had been +watching for this opportunity, quickly followed.</p> +<p>He fondly believed that Iredale came to the farm +to thrust his attentions upon Prudence. This was +exasperating enough in itself, but when Grey, in his +righteous indignation, thought of other matters +pertaining to the owner of Lonely Ranch, his indignation +rose to boiling pitch. He meant to have it +out with him to-night.</p> +<p>Iredale had already adjusted himself into a comfortable +chintz-covered arm-chair when Grey arrived upon +the scene. A great briar pipe hung from the corner +of his strong, decided mouth, and he was smoking +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Grey moved briskly to another chair and flung +himself into its depths with little regard for its age. +Nor did he attempt to smoke. His mind was too +active and disturbed for anything so calm and +soothing.</p> +<p>His first words indicated the condition of his +mind.</p> +<p>“Kicking up a racket in there,” he said jerkily, +indicating the parlour. “Can’t stand such a noise +when I’ve got a lot to think about.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></div> +<p>“No.” Iredale nodded his head and spoke without +removing the pipe from his mouth.</p> +<p>“We are to be married to-morrow week––Prudence +and I.”</p> +<p>“So I’ve been told. I congratulate you.”</p> +<p>Iredale looked at his companion with grave eyes. +They were quite alone in the room. He had met +Grey frequently and had learned to understand his +ways and to know his bull-headed methods. Now he +quietly waited. He had a shrewd suspicion that the +man had something unpleasant to say. Unconsciously +his teeth closed tighter upon his pipe.</p> +<p>Grey raised his eyebrows.</p> +<p>“Thanks. I hardly expected it.”</p> +<p>“And why not?” Iredale was smiling, his grey +eyes had a curious look in them––something between +quizzical amusement and surprise.</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” the other retorted with a +shrug. “There is no telling how some men will take +these things.”</p> +<p>Iredale removed his pipe, and pressed the ash +down with his little finger. The operation required the +momentary lowering of his eyes from his companion’s +face.</p> +<p>“I don’t think I understand you.”</p> +<p>Grey laughed unpleasantly.</p> +<p>“There’s not much need of comprehension. If two +men run after the same girl and one succeeds where +the other fails, the successful suitor doesn’t usually +expect congratulations from his unfortunate rival.”</p> +<p>“Supposing such to be the case in point,” Iredale +replied quietly, but with an ominous lowering of his +eyelids. “Mark you, I only say ‘supposing.’ I admit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +nothing––to you. The less successful man may surely +be honest enough, and man enough, to wish his rival +well. I have known such cases among––men.”</p> +<p>Grey twisted himself round in his chair and assumed +a truculent attitude.</p> +<p>“Notwithstanding the fact that the rival in question +never loses an opportunity of seeking out the particular +girl, and continuing his attentions after she is engaged +to the other? That may be the way among––men. +But not honest men.”</p> +<p>The expression of Iredale’s face remained quite +calm. Only his eyes––keen, direct-gazing eyes––lit +up with an angry sparkle. He drew a little more +rapidly at his pipe, perhaps, but he spoke quietly still. +He quite understood that Grey intended forcing a +quarrel upon him.</p> +<p>“I shall not pretend to misunderstand you, Grey. +Your manner puts that out of the question. You are +unwarrantably accusing me of a most ungentlemanly +proceeding. Such an accusation being made by any +one––what shall I say?––more responsible than you, +I should take considerable notice of; as it is, it is +hardly worth my consideration. You are at best a +blunderer. I should pause before I replied had I the +misfortune to be you, and try to recollect where you +are. If you wish to quarrel there is time and place +for so doing.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s words stung Leslie Grey to the quick. His +irresponsible temper fairly jumped within him, his +eyes danced with rage, and he could scarcely find +words to express himself.</p> +<p>“You may sneer as much as you like,” he at length +blurted out, “but you cannot deny that your visits to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +this house are paid with the object of addressing my +affianced wife. You are right when you describe such +conduct as ungentlemanly. You are no gentleman! +But I do not suppose that the man who owns Lonely +Ranch will feel the sting of being considered a––a––cad +or anything else.”</p> +<p>“Stop!” Iredale was roused, and there was no +mistaking the set of his square jaw and the compression +between his brows. “You have gone a step too +far. You shall apologize or–––”</p> +<p>“Stop––eh? You may well demand that I should––stop, +Mr. George Iredale. Were I to go on you +would have a distinctly bad time of it. But my +present consideration is not with the concerns of +Lonely Ranch, but only with your visits here, which +shall cease from to-day out. And as for apologizing +for anything I have said, I’ll see you damned +first.”</p> +<p>There was a pause; a breathless pause. The two +men confronted each other, both held calm by a +strength which a moment ago would have seemed +impossible in at least one of them.</p> +<p>Grey’s face worked painfully with suppressed +excitement, but he gripped himself. George Iredale +was calm under the effort of swift thought. He was +the first to break the silence, and he did so in a voice +well modulated and under perfect control. But the +mouthpiece of his pipe was nearly bitten through.</p> +<p>“Now I shall be glad if you will go on. You +apparently have further charges to make against me. +I hardly know whether I am in the presence of a +madman or a fool. One or the other, I am sure. +You may as well make your charges at once. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +will certainly answer for all you have already said, so +make the list of your accusations complete before–––”</p> +<p>“You fool!” hissed Grey, goaded to the last +extremity of patience. His headlong nature could +not long endure restraint. Now his words came with +a blind rush.</p> +<p>“Do you think I’d speak without being sure of +my ground? Do you think, because other men who +have occupied the position which is mine at Ainsley +have been blind, that I am? Lonely Ranch; a fitting +title for your place,” with a sneer. “Lonely! in +neighbourhood, yes, but not as regards its owner. +You are wealthy, probably the wealthiest man in +the province of Manitoba; why, that alone should +have been sufficient to set the hounds of the law on +your trail. I know the secret of Lonely Ranch. I +have watched day after day the notice you have +inserted in the <i>Free Press</i>––‘Yellow booming––slump +in Grey.’ Nor have I rested until I discovered your +secret. I shall make no charge here beyond what I +have said, but–––”</p> +<p>He suddenly broke off, awakening from his blind +rage to the fact of what he was doing. His mouth +shut like a trap, and beads of perspiration broke out +upon his forehead. His eyes lowered before the +ironical gaze of his companion. Thus he sat for a +moment a prey to futile regrets. His anger had +undone him. The sound of a short laugh fell upon +his ears, and, as though drawn by a magnet, his eyes +were once more turned on the face of the rancher.</p> +<p>“I was not sure which it was,” said Iredale dryly; +“whether you were a fool or a madman. Now +I know. I had hoped that it was madness. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +is hope for a madman, but none for a fool. Thank +you, Grey, for the information you have supplied +me with. Your folly has defeated your ends. Remember +this. You will never be able to use the +‘Secret’––as you are pleased to call it––of Lonely +Ranch. I will take good care of that. And now, as +I hear sounds of people running up-stairs, we will +postpone further discussion. This interview has been +prolonged sufficiently––more than sufficiently for +you.”</p> +<p>Iredale rose from his chair; to all appearance he +was quite undisturbed. Grey’s condition was exactly +the reverse.</p> +<p>He, too, rose from his seat. There was a sound of +some one approaching the door. Grey stepped up to +his companion and put his mouth close to his ear.</p> +<p>“Don’t forget that you cannot conceal the traces +that are round your––ranch. Traces which are unmistakable +to those who have an inkling of the truth.”</p> +<p>“No, but I can take steps which will effectually +nullify the exertions you have been put to. Remember +you said I was wealthy. I am tired of your stupid +long-winded talk.”</p> +<p>Iredale turned away with a movement of disgust +and irritation just as the door opened and Prudence +came in.</p> +<p>“Ah, here you are, you two. I have been wondering +where you were all this time. Do you know the +people are going home?”</p> +<p>The girl ceased speaking abruptly and looked +keenly at the two men before her. Iredale was +smiling; Grey was gazing down at the stove, and +apparently not listening to her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></div> +<p>Prudence saw that something was wrong, but she +had no suspicion of the truth. She wondered; then +she delivered a message she had brought and dismissed +Iredale.</p> +<p>“Mother wants to see you, Mr. Iredale; something +about Hervey.”</p> +<p>“I will go to her at once.” And the owner of +Lonely Ranch passed out of the room.</p> +<p>The moment the door closed behind him the girl +turned anxiously to her lover.</p> +<p>“What is it, Leslie dear? You are not angry with +me still?”</p> +<p>The man laughed mirthlessly.</p> +<p>“Angry? No, child. I wonder if I––no, better +not. It’s time to be off. Give me a kiss, and I’ll say +good-night.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_LESLIE_GREY_FULFILS_HIS_DESTINY' id='CHAPTER_VII_LESLIE_GREY_FULFILS_HIS_DESTINY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>LESLIE GREY FULFILS HIS DESTINY</h3> +</div> +<p>It was early morning. Early even for the staff of +the Rodney House Hotel. And Leslie Grey was +about to breakfast. The solitary waitress the hotel +boasted was laying the tables for the eight-o’clock +meal. The room had not yet assumed the spick-and-span +appearance which it would wear later +on. There was a suggestion of last night’s supper +about the atmosphere; and the girl, too, who moved +swiftly here and there arranging the tables, was still +clad in her early morning, frowsy print dress, and her +hair showed signs of having been hastily adjusted +without the aid of a looking-glass. A sight of her +suggested an abrupt rising at the latest possible +moment.</p> +<p>From the kitchen beyond a savoury odour of steak +and coffee penetrated the green baize swing-door +which stood at one end of the room.</p> +<p>“Is that steak nearly ready?” asked Grey irritably, +as the girl flicked some crumbs from the opposite end +of his table on to the floor, with that deft flourish of a +dirty napkin which waitresses usually obtain.</p> +<p>She paused in her work, and her hand went up +consciously to the screws of paper which adorned her +front hair.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></div> +<p>“Yessir, it’ll be along right now.”</p> +<p>Then she continued to flick the table in other +directions.</p> +<p>“I ordered breakfast for six o’clock. This is the +slackest place I ever knew. I shall talk to Morton +and see if things can’t be altered. Just go and rouse +that cook up. I’ve got to make Leonville before +two.”</p> +<p>The girl gave a final angry flick at an imaginary +crumb and flounced off in the direction of the kitchen. +The next moment her shrill voice was heard addressing +the cook.</p> +<p>“Mr. Grey wants his breakfast––sharp, Molly. +Dish it up. If it ain’t done it’s his look-out. There’s +no pleasing some folks. I s’pose Mr. Chillingwood’ll +be along d’rectly. Better put something on for him +or there’ll be a row. What’s that––steak? That +ain’t no good for Mr. Robb. He wants pork chops. +He never eats anything else for breakfast. Says he’s +used to pork.”</p> +<p>The girl returned to the breakfast room bearing +Grey’s steak and some potatoes. Coffee followed +quickly, and the officer attacked his victuals hungrily. +Then Robb Chillingwood appeared.</p> +<p>Leslie Grey was about to rate the girl for her +remarks to the cook, but Robb interrupted him.</p> +<p>“Well, how does the bridegroom feel?” he asked +cheerily.</p> +<p>“Shut up!”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? Cranky on your wedding +morning?” pursued the town clerk irrepressibly.</p> +<p>“I wish to goodness you’d keep your mouth shut. +Why don’t you go and proclaim my affairs from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +steps of your beastly Town Hall?” Grey glanced +meaningly in the direction of the waitress standing in +open-mouthed astonishment beside one of the tables.</p> +<p>Robb laughed and his eyes twinkled mischievously. +He turned sharply on the girl.</p> +<p>“Why, didn’t you know that Mr. Grey was going +to be married to-day?” he asked, with assumed +solemnity. “Well, I’m blessed,” as the girl shook her +head and giggled. “You neglect your duty, Nellie, +my girl. What are you here for but to ‘sling hash’ +and learn all the gossip and scandal concerning the +boarders? Yes, Mr. Grey is going to get married +to-day, and I––I am to be his best man. Now be off, +and fetch my ‘mutton’––which is pork.”</p> +<p>The girl ran off to do as she was bid, and also to +convey the news to her friends in the kitchen. Robb +sat down beside his companion and chuckled softly +as he gazed at Grey’s ill-humoured face, and listened +to the shrieks of laughter which were borne on the +atmosphere of cooking from beyond the baize door.</p> +<p>Grey choked down his indignation. For once he +understood that protest would not serve him. Everything +about his marriage had been kept quiet in +Ainsley up till now, not because there was any need +for it, but Robb had acceded to his expressed wishes. +The latter, however, felt himself in no way bound to +keep silence on this, the eventful day. Robb attacked +some toast as a preliminary, while the other devoured +his steak. Then Grey looked up from his plate. +His face had cleared; his ill-humour had been +replaced by a look of keen earnestness.</p> +<p>“It’s a beastly nuisance that this is my wedding +day,” he began. “Yes, I mean it,” as Robb looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +up in horrified astonishment. “I don’t mean anything +derogatory to anybody. I just state an obvious fact. +You would understand if you knew all.”</p> +<p>“But, damn it, man, you ought to be ashamed of +yourself for saying such a thing. You are marrying +one of the best and sweetest girls in Southern Manitoba, +and yet––why, it’s enough to choke a man off +his feed.” Chillingwood was angry.</p> +<p>“Don’t be a fool. You haven’t many brains, I +know, but use the few you possess now, and listen to +me. A week ago, yes; a week hence, yes. But for +the next three days I have some dangerous work on +hand that must be done. Work of my department.”</p> +<p>“Ah, dirty work, I suppose, or there’d be no ‘must’ +or ‘danger’ about it.”</p> +<p>Grey shrugged.</p> +<p>“Call it what you like. Since you’ve left the service +I notice you look at things differently,” he said. +“Anyway, it’s good enough for me to be determined +to see it through in spite of my wedding. Damn it, +there’s always some obstacle or other cropping up +at inopportune moments in my life. However––I +wish I knew whether I could still trust you to do +something for me. It would simplify matters considerably.”</p> +<p>Robb looked serious. He might not be possessed +of many brains, as Grey had suggested––although +Grey’s opinions were generally warped––but he +thought well before he replied. And when he spoke +he showed considerable decision and foresight.</p> +<p>“You can trust me all right enough if the matter is +clean and honest. I’ll do nothing dirty for you or +anybody else. I’ve seen too much.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></div> +<p>“Oh, it’s clean enough. I don’t dirty my hands +with dishonest dealings. I simply do my duty.”</p> +<p>“But your sense of duty is an exaggerated one––peculiar. +I notice that it takes the form of any +practices which you consider will advance your +personal interests.”</p> +<p>“It so happens that my ‘personal interests’ are +synonymous with the interests of those I serve. But +all I require is the delivery of a letter in Winnipeg, +at a certain time on a given date. I can’t trust the +post for a very particular reason, and as for the telegraph, +that wouldn’t answer my purpose. I could +employ a messenger, but that would not do either––a +disinterested messenger could be got at. You, I +know, couldn’t be––er––influenced. If you fail me, +then I must do it myself, which means that I must +leave my bride shortly after the ceremony to-day, and +not return to her until Friday, more than two days +hence. That’s how the matter stands. I will pay all +your expenses and give you a substantial present to +boot. Just for delivering a letter to the chief of police +in Winnipeg. I will go and write it at once if you +consent.”</p> +<p>Robb shook his head doubtfully.</p> +<p>“I must know more than that. First, I must know, +in confidence of course, the object of that letter. +And, secondly, who is to be the victim of your machinations. +Without these particulars you can count me +‘out.’ I’ll be no party to anything I might afterwards +have cause to regret.”</p> +<p>“That settles it then,” replied Grey resentfully. “I +can’t reveal the name of my ‘victim,’ as you so +graphically put it. You happen to know him, I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +believe, and are on a friendly footing with him.” He +finished up with a callous laugh.</p> +<p>Robb’s eyes shone wickedly.</p> +<p>“By Jove, Grey, you’ve sunk pretty low in your +efforts to regain your lost position. I always knew +that you hadn’t a particle of feeling in your whole +body for any one but yourself, but I didn’t think you’d +treat me to a taste of your rotten ways. Were it not +for the sake of Alice Gordon’s chum, the girl you are +going to marry, I wouldn’t be your best man. You +have become utterly impossible, and, after to-day’s +event, I wash my hands of you. Damn it, you’re a +skunk!”</p> +<p>Grey laughed loudly, but there was no mirth in his +hilarity. It was a heartless, nervous laugh.</p> +<p>“Easy, Robb, don’t get on your high horse,” he said +presently. Then he became silent, and a sigh escaped +him. “I had to make the suggestion,” he went on, +after a while. “You are the only man I dared to +trust. Confound it, if you must have it, I’m sorry!” +The apology came out with a jerk; it seemed to have +been literally wrung from him. “Try and forget it, +Robb,” he went on, more quietly, “we’ve known each +other for so many years.”</p> +<p>Robb was slightly mollified, but he was not likely +to forget his companion’s proposition. He changed +the subject.</p> +<p>“Talking of Winnipeg, you know I was up there +on business the other day. I had a bit of a shock +while I was walking about the depôt waiting for the +train to start.”</p> +<p>“Oh.” Grey was not paying much attention; he +was absorbed in his own thoughts.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></div> +<p>“Yes,” Robb went on. “You remember Mr. +Zachary Smith?”</p> +<p>His companion looked up with a violent start.</p> +<p>“Well, I guess. What of him? I’m not likely to +forget him easily. There is just one desire I have in +life which dwarfs all others to insignificance, and that +is to stand face to face with Mr. Zachary Smith,” +Grey finished up significantly.</p> +<p>“Ah! So I should suppose,” Robb went on. +“Those are my feelings to a nicety. But I didn’t +quite realize my desire, and, besides, I wasn’t sure, +anyhow. A man appeared, just for one moment, at +the booking-office door as I happened to pass it. He +stared at me, and I caught his eye. Then he beat a +retreat before I had called his face to mind––you see, +his appearance was quite changed. A moment later +I remembered him, or thought I did, and gave chase. +But I had lost him, couldn’t discover a trace of him, +and nearly lost the train into the bargain. Mind, I +am not positive of the fellow’s identity, but I’d gamble +a few dollars on the matter, anyway.”</p> +<p>“Lord! I’d have missed fifty trains rather than have +lost sight of him. Just our luck,” Grey exclaimed +violently.</p> +<p>“Well, if he’s in the district, we’ll come across him +again. Perhaps you will have the next chance.” Robb +pushed his chair back.</p> +<p>“I hope so.”</p> +<p>“It was he, right enough,” Robb went on meditatively, +his cheery face puckered into an expression of +perplexity. “He was well dressed, too, in the garb +of an ordinary citizen, and looked quite clean and +respectable. His face had filled out; but it was his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +eyes that fixed me. You remember those two great, +deep-sunken, cow-eyes of his–––” Robb broke off as +he saw Grey start. “Why, what’s up?”</p> +<p>Grey shook himself; then he gazed straight before +him. Nor did he heed his companion’s question. A +strongly-marked pucker appeared between his eyebrows, +and a look of uncertainty was upon his face. +Robb again urged him.</p> +<p>“You haven’t seen him?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Grey.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I have just remembered something. I came across +a––stranger the other day. He was wrapped in furs, +and I could only see his eyes. But those eyes were distinctly +familiar––‘cow’-eyes, I think you said. I was +struck with their appearance at the time, but couldn’t +just realize where I had seen eyes like ’em before.” +Then he went on reflectively: “But no, it couldn’t +have been he. Ah–––” He broke off and glanced +in the direction of the window as the jangle of sleigh-bells +sounded outside. “Here’s our cutter. Come +on.”</p> +<p>Robb rose from his seat and brushed the crumbs +from his trousers. There came the sound of voices +from the other side of the door.</p> +<p>“Some of the boys,” said Robb, with a meaning +smile. “It’s early for ’em.”</p> +<p>“I believe this is your doing,” said Grey sulkily.</p> +<p>Robb nodded in the direction of the window. +“You’ve got a team. This is no ‘one-horsed’ +affair.”</p> +<p>The door opened suddenly and two men entered.</p> +<p>“Oh, here he is,” said one, Charlie Trellis, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +postmaster, with a laugh. “Congratulate you, Grey, +my friend. Double harness, eh? Tame you down, +my boy. Good thing, marriage––for taming a man.”</p> +<p>“You’re not looking your best,” said the other, +Jack Broad, the telegraph operator. “Why, man, you +look as though you were going to your own funeral. +Buck up! Come and have a ‘Collins’; brace you +up for the ordeal.”</p> +<p>“Go to the devil, both of you,” said Grey ungraciously. +“I don’t swill eye-openers all day like you, +Jack Broad. Got something else to do.”</p> +<p>“So it seems. But cheer up, man,” replied Broad +imperturbably, “it’s not as bad as having a tooth +drawn.”</p> +<p>“Nor half as unpleasant as a funeral,” put in +Trellis, with a grin.</p> +<p>Grey turned to Robb.</p> +<p>“Come on,” he said abruptly. “Let’s get. I shall +say things in a minute if I stay here.”</p> +<p>“That ’ud be something new for you,” called out +Broad, as the two men left the room.</p> +<p>The door closed on his remark and he turned to +his companion.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry for the poor girl,” he went on. “The +most can-tankerous pig I ever ran up against––is +Grey.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” agreed the other; “I can’t think how a +decent fellow like Robb Chillingwood can chum up +with him. He’s a surly clown––only fit for such +countries as the Yukon, where he comes from. He’s +not particularly clever either. Yes,” turning to the +waitress, “the usual. How would you like to be the +bride?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></div> +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> +<p>“No, thanks. I like candy.”</p> +<p>“Ah, not vinegar.”</p> +<p>“Nor––nor––pigs.”</p> +<p>Broad turned to the grey-headed postmaster with a +loud guffaw.</p> +<p>“She seems to have sized Grey up pretty slick.”</p> +<p>Outside in the hall the two men donned their furs +and over-shoes. Fortunately for Grey’s peace of +mind there was no one else about. The bar-tender +was sweeping the office out, but he did not pause in +his work. Outside the front door the livery-stable +man was holding the horses. Grey took his seat to +drive, and wrapped the robes well about him. It was +a bitterly cold morning. Robb was just about to climb +in beside him when a ginger-headed man clad in a +pea-jacket came running from the direction of the +Town Hall. He waved one arm vigorously, clutching +in his hand a piece of paper. Robb saw him first.</p> +<p>“Something for me, as sure as a gun. Hold on, +Grey,” he said. “It’s Sutton, the sheriff. I wonder +what’s up?”</p> +<p>The ginger-headed man came up breathlessly.</p> +<p>“Thought I was going to miss you, Chillingwood. +A message from the Mayor. ‘Doc’ Ridley sends +word that the United States marshal has got that +horse-thief, Le Mar, over the other side. You’ll have +to make out the papers for bringing him over. I’ve +got to go and fetch him at once.”</p> +<p>“But, hang it, man, I can’t do them now,” exclaimed +Robb.</p> +<p>“He’s on leave of absence,” put in Grey.</p> +<p>“Can’t be helped. I’m sorry,” said the sheriff.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div> +<p>“It’s business, you know. Besides, it won’t take +you more than an hour. I must get across to Verdon +before noon or it’ll be too late to get the papers +‘backed’ there. Come on, man; you can get another +cutter and follow Grey up in an hour. You won’t +lose much time.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and who’s going to pay the damage?” said +Robb, relinquishing his hold on the cutter’s rail.</p> +<p>The sheriff shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to stay,” he said conclusively.</p> +<p>“I suppose so. Grey, I’m sorry.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” replied Grey coldly. “It’s +not your fault. Well, good-bye. Don’t bother to +follow me up.”</p> +<p>“Damn!” ejaculated the good-hearted Robb, as +the cutter moved away.</p> +<p>“Going to get married, ain’t he?” said the sheriff +shortly, as Grey departed.</p> +<p>“Yes.” And the two men walked off in the direction +of Chillingwood’s office.</p> +<p>And Grey drove off to his wedding alone. He +was denied even the support of the only man who, +out of sheer good-heartedness, would have accompanied +him. The life of a man is more surely influenced +by the peculiarities of his own disposition than +anything else. When a man takes to himself a wife, +it is naturally a time for the well-wishes of his friends. +This man set out alone. Not one God-speed went +with him. And yet he was not disturbed by the lack +of sympathy. He looked at life from an uncommon +standpoint, measuring its scope for the attainment of +happiness by his own capacity for doing, not by any +association with his kind. He was one of those men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +who need no friendship from his fellows, preferring +rather to be without it. Thus he considered he was +freer to follow his own methods of life. Position +was his goal––position in the walk of life he had +chosen. Could he not attain this solely by his own +exertions, then he would do without it.</p> +<p>The crisp, morning air smote his cheeks with the +sting of a whip-lash as he drove down the bush-lined +trail which led from the Rodney House to the railway +depôt. It was necessary for him to cross the track at +this point before he would find himself upon the +prairie road to the Leonville school-house, at which +place the ceremony was to be performed. The “gush” +of the horses’ nostrils sounded refreshingly in his ears +as the animals fairly danced over the smooth, icy trail. +The sleigh-bells jangled with a confused clashing of +sounds in response to the gait of the eager beasts. +But Grey thought little of these things. He thought +little of anything just now but his intended despoiling +of the owner of Lonely Ranch. All other matters +were quite subsidiary to his one chief object.</p> +<p>Once out in the open, the horses settled down into +their long-distance stride. Here the trail was not so +good as in the precincts of the village. The snow +was deeper and softer. Now and then the horses’ +hoofs would break through the frozen crust and sink +well above the fetlocks into the under-snow.</p> +<p>Now the thick bush, which surrounded the village, +gave place to a sparser covering of scattered bluffs, +and the grey-white aspect of the country became +apparent. The trail was well marked as far as the +eye could reach––two great furrows ploughed by the +passage of horses and the runners of the farmers’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +heavy “double-bobs.” Besides this, the colour was +different. There was a strong suggestion of earthiness +about the trail which was not to be observed +upon the rolling snow-fields of the surrounding +prairie.</p> +<p>The air was still though keen, and the morning sun +had already risen well above the mist of grey clouds +which still hovered above the eastern horizon. There +was a striking solemnity over all. It was the morning +promise of a fair day, and soon the dazzling sunshine +upon the snow would become blinding to eyes +unused to the winter prairie.</p> +<p>But Grey was no tenderfoot. Such things had no +terrors for him. His half-closed eyes faced the glare +of light defiantly. It is only the inexperienced who +gaze across the snow-bound earth, at such a time, +with wide-open eyes.</p> +<p>The bluffs became scarcer as mile after mile was +covered by the long, raking strides of the hardy +horses. Occasionally Grey was forced to pull off the +trail into the deep snow to allow the heavy-laden +hay-rack of some farmer to pass, or a box-sleigh, +weighted down with sacks of grain, toiling on its way +to the Ainsley elevator. These inconveniences were +the rule of the road, the lighter always giving way +to the heavier conveyance.</p> +<p>Ten miles from Ainsley and the wide open sea of +snow proclaimed the prairie in its due form. Not a +tree in sight, not a rock, not a hill to break the awful +monotony. Just one vast rolling expanse of snow +gleaming beneath the dazzling rays of a now warming +sun. A hungry coyote and his mate prowling in +search of food at a distance of half-a-mile looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +large by reason of their isolation. An occasional +covey of prairie chicken, noisily winging their way to +a far-distant bluff, might well be startling both to +horses and driver. A dark ribbon-like flight of ducks +or geese, high up in the heavens, speeding from the +south to be early in the field when the sodden prairie +should be open, was something to distract the attention +of even the most pre-occupied. But Grey was +oblivious to everything except the trail beneath him, +the gait of his team, and his scheme for advancement. +The sun mounted higher, and the time passed +rapidly to the traveller. And, as the record of mileage +rose, the face of the snow-clad earth began again to +change its appearance. The undulations of the +prairie assumed vaster proportions. The waves rose +to the size of hills, and the gentle hollows sank +deeper until they declined into gaping valleys. +Here and there trees and small clumps of leafless +bush dotted the view. A house or two, with barn +looming largely in the rear, and spidery fencing, +stretching in rectangular directions, suggested homesteads; +the barking of dogs––life. These signs of +habitation continued, and became now more frequent, +and now, again, more rare. The hills increased in +size and the bush thickened. Noon saw the traveller +in an “up-and-down” country intersected by icebound +streams and snow-laden hollows. The timber +became more heavy, great pine trees dominating the +more stunted growths, and darkening the outlook +by reason of their more generous vegetation. On +the eastern extremity of this belt of country stood +the school-house of Leonville; beyond that the +undulating prairie again on to Loon Dyke Farm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></div> +<p>Leslie Grey looked at his watch; the hands indicated +a near approach to the hour of one. He had +yet three miles to go to reach his destination. He +had crossed a small creek. A culvert bridged it, but +the snow upon either side of the trail was so deep in +the hollow that no indication of the woodwork was +visible. It was in such places as these that a watchful +care was needed. The smallest divergence from +the beaten track would have precipitated the team +and cutter into a snow-drift from which it would have +been impossible to extricate it without a smash-up. +Once safely across this he allowed the horses to climb +the opposite ascent leisurely. They had done well––he +had covered the distance in less than six hours.</p> +<p>The hill was a mass of redolent pinewoods. It +was as though the gradual densifying of this belt +of woodland country had culminated upon the hill. +The brooding gloom of the forest was profound. +The dark green foliage of the pines seemed black by +contrast with the snow, and gazing in amongst the +leafless lower trunks was like peering into a world of +dayless night The horses walked with ears pricked +and wistful eyes alertly gazing. The darkness of +their surroundings seemed to have conveyed something +of its mysterious dread to their sensitive nerves. +Tired they might be, but they were ready to shy at +each rustle of the heavy branches, as some stray +breath of air bent them lazily and forced from them a +creaking protest.</p> +<p>As the traveller neared the summit the trail +narrowed down until a hand outstretched from the +conveyance could almost have brushed the tree-trunks.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></div> +<p>Grey’s eyes were upon his horses and his thoughts +were miles away. Ahead of him gaped the opening +in the trees which marked the brow of the hill against +the skyline. He had traversed the road many times +on his way to Loon Dyke Farm and knew every foot +of it. It had no beauties for him. These profound +woods conveyed nothing to his unimpressionable +mind; not even danger, for fear was quite foreign to +his nature. This feeling of security was more the +result of his own lofty opinion of himself, and the +contempt in which he held all law-breakers, rather +than any high moral tone he possessed. Whatever +his faults, fear was a word which found no place in +his vocabulary. A nervous or imaginative man +might have conjured weird fancies from the gloom +with which he found himself surrounded at this point. +But Leslie Grey was differently constituted.</p> +<p>Now, as he neared the summit of the hill, he leant +slightly forward and gathered up the lines which he +had allowed to lie slack upon his horses’ backs. A +resounding “chirrup” and the weary beasts strained +at their neck-yoke. Something moving in amongst +the trees attracted their attention. Their snorting +nostrils were suddenly thrown up in startled attention. +The off-side horse jumped sideways against its companion, +and the sleigh was within an ace of fouling +the trees. By a great effort Grey pulled the animals +back to the trail and his whip fell heavily across their +backs. Then he looked up to discover the cause of +their fright. A dark figure, a man clad in a black +sheepskin coat, stood like a statue between two +trees.</p> +<p>His right arm was raised and his hand gripped a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +levelled pistol. For one brief instant Grey surveyed +the apparition, and he scarcely realized his position. +Then a sharp report rang out, ear-piercing in the +grim silence, and his hands went up to his chest and +his eyes closed.</p> +<p>The next moment the eyes, dull, almost unseeing, +opened again, he swayed forward as though in great +pain, then with an effort he flung himself backwards, +settling himself against the unyielding back of the +seat; his face looked drawn and grey, nor did he +attempt to regain the reins which had dropped from +his hands. The horses, unrestrained, broke into a +headlong gallop; fright urged them on and they +raced down the trail, keeping to the beaten track +with their wonted instinct, even although mad with +fear. A moment later and the sleigh disappeared +over the brow of the hill.</p> +<p>All became silent again, except for the confused, +distant jangle of the sleigh-bells on the horses’ backs. +The dark figure moved out on to the trail, and +stood gazing after the sleigh. For a full minute +he stood thus. Then he turned again and swiftly +became lost in the black depths whence he had so +mysteriously appeared.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_GREYS_LAST_WORDS' id='CHAPTER_VIII_GREYS_LAST_WORDS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>GREY’S LAST WORDS</h3> +</div> +<p>Rigid, hideous, stands the Leonville school-house +sharply outlined against the sky, upon the summit of +a high, rising ground. It stands quite alone as though +in proud distinction for its classic vocation. Its flat, +uninteresting sides; its staring windows; its high-pitched +roof of warped shingles; its weather-boarding, +innocent of paint; its general air of neglect; these +things strike one forcibly in that region of Nature’s +carefully-finished handiwork.</p> +<p>However, its cheerless aspect was for the moment +rendered less apparent than usual by reason of many +people gathered about the storm-porch, and the +number and variety of farmers’ sleighs grouped about +the two tying-posts which stood by the roadside in +front of it An unbroken level of smooth prairie +footed one side of the hill, whilst at the back of the +house stretched miles of broken, hilly woodland.</p> +<p>The wedding party had arrived from Loon Dyke +Farm. Hephzibah Malling had gathered her friends +together, and all had driven over for the happy event +amidst the wildest enthusiasm and excited anticipation. +Each girl, clad in her brightest colours +beneath a sober outer covering of fur, was accompanied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +by her attendant swain, the latter well oiled about the +hair and well bronzed about the face, and glowing as +an after-effect of the liberal use of soap and water. +A wedding was no common occurrence, and, in +consequence, demanded special mark of appreciation. +No work would be done that day by any of those +who attended the function.</p> +<p>But the enthusiasm of the moment had died out at +the first breath of serious talk––talk inspired by the +non-appearance of the bridegroom. The hour of the +ceremony was close at hand and still he had not +arrived. He should have been the first upon the +scene. The elders were agitated, the younger folk +hopeful and full of excuses for the belated groom, the +Minister fingered his great silver timepiece nervously. +He had driven over from Lakeville, at much inconvenience +to himself, to officiate at the launching of his +old friend’s daughter upon the high seas of wedded +life.</p> +<p>The older ladies had rallied to Mrs. Malling’s side. +The younger people held aloof. There was an +ominous grouping and eager whispering, and eyes +were turned searchingly upon the grey trail which +stretched winding away towards the western horizon.</p> +<p>The Rev. Charles Danvers, the Methodist minister +of Lakeville, was the central figure of the situation, +and at whom the elder ladies fired their comments +and suggestions. There could be no doubt, from the +nature and tone of these remarks, that a panic was +spreading.</p> +<p>“It’s quite too bad, you know,” said Mrs. Covill, an +iron-grey haired lady of decided presence and +possessing a hooked nose. “I can’t understand it in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +a man of Mr. Grey’s business-like ways. Now he’s +just the sort of man whom I should have expected +would have been here at least an hour before it was +necessary.”</p> +<p>“It is just his sort that fail on these occasions,” +put in Mrs. Ganthorn pessimistically. “He’s just too +full of business for my fancy. What is the time now, +Mr. Danvers?”</p> +<p>“On the stroke of the half-hour,” replied the +parson, with a gloomy look. “My eyesight is not +very good; can I see anything on the trail, or is that +black object a bush?”</p> +<p>“Bush,” said some one shortly.</p> +<p>“Ah,” ejaculated the parson. Then he turned to +Mrs. Malling, who stood beside him staring down the +trail with unblinking eyes. Her lips were pursed +and twitching nervously. “There can have been +no mistake about the time, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Mistake? No,” retorted the good lady with +irritation. “Folks don’t make no mistake about the +hour of their wedding. Not the bridegroom, anyway. +No, it’s an accident, that’s what it is, as sure as my +name’s Hephzibah Malling. And that’s what comes +of his staying at Ainsley when he ought to have been +hereabouts. To think of a man driving forty odd +miles to get married. La’ sakes! It just makes me +mad with him. There’s my girl there most ready to +cry her eyes out on her wedding morning, and small +blame to her neither. It’s a shame, and I’m not the +one to be likely to forget to tell him so when he +comes along. If he were my man he’d better his +ways, I know.”</p> +<p>No one replied to the old lady’s heated complaint. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +They all too cordially agreed with her to defend the +recalcitrant bridegroom. Mr. Danvers drew out his +watch for at least the twentieth time.</p> +<p>“Five minutes overdue,” he murmured. Then +aloud and in a judicial tone: “We must allow him +some margin. But, as you say, it certainly was a +mistake his remaining at Ainsley.”</p> +<p>“Mistake––mistake, indeed,” Mrs. Malling retorted, +with all the scorn she was capable of. “He’s that +fool-headed that he won’t listen to no reason. Why +couldn’t he have stopped at the farm? Propriety–– +fiddlesticks!” Her face was flushed and her brow +ominously puckered; she folded her fat hands with +no uncertain grip across the slight frontal hollow +which answered her purpose for a waist. Her anger +was chiefly based upon alarm, and that alarm was +not alone for her daughter. She was anxious for the +man himself, and her anxiety found vent in that +peculiar angry protest which is so little meant by +those who resort to it. The good dame was on pins +and needles of nervous suspense. Had Grey suddenly +appeared upon the scene doubtless her kindly +face would have at once wreathed itself into a broad +expanse of smiles. But the moments flew by and +still the little group waited for the coming which was +so long delayed.</p> +<p>Three of the young men approached the agitated +mother from the juvenile gathering. Their faces +were solemn. Their own optimism had given way +before the protracted delay. Tim Gleichen and +Peter Furrers came first, Andy, the choreman, brought +up the rear.</p> +<p>“We’ve been thinking,” said Tim, feeling it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +necessary to explain the process which had brought +them to a certain conclusion, “that maybe we might +just drive down the trail to see if we can see anything +of him, Mrs. Malling. Ye can’t just say how things +have gone with him. Maybe he’s struck a ‘dump’ +and his sleigh’s got smashed up. There’s some tidy +drifts to come through, and it’s dead easy to get +dumped in ’em. Peter and Andy here have volunteered +to go with me.”</p> +<p>“That’s real sensible of you, Tim,” replied Mrs. +Malling, with an air of relief. She felt quite convinced +that an accident had happened. She turned +to the minister. In this matter she considered he +was the best judge. Like many of her neighbours, +she looked to the minister as the best worldly as well +as spiritual adviser of his flock. “Like as not the +boys will be able to help him?” she suggested, in a +tone of inquiry.</p> +<p>“I don’t think I should let them go yet,” the man +of the cloth replied. “I should give him an hour. +It seems to me it will be time enough then. Ah, +here’s Mrs. Gurridge,” as that lady appeared in the +doorway. “There’s no sign of him,” he called out in +anticipation of her inquiry. “I hope you are not +letting the bride worry too much.”</p> +<p>“It’s too dreadful,” said Mrs. Ganthorn, as her +thoughts reverted to Prudence waiting in the school-ma’am’s +sitting-room.</p> +<p>“Whatever can have happened to him?”</p> +<p>“That’s what’s been troubling us this hour and +more,” snapped the girl’s mother. She was in no +humour to be asked silly questions, however little they +were intended to be answered.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></div> +<p>She turned to Sarah. In this trouble the peaceful +Sarah would act as oil on troubled waters.</p> +<p>Sarah understood her look of inquiry.</p> +<p>“She’s bearing up bravely, Hephzibah. She’s not +one of the crying sort. Too much of your Silas in +her for that. I’ve done my best to console her.”</p> +<p>She did not say that she had propounded several +mottos more or less suitable to the occasion, which +had been delivered with great unction to the disconsolate +girl. Prudence had certainly benefited by the +good woman’s company, but not in the way Sarah had +hoped and believed. It was the girl’s own sense of +humour which had helped her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling turned away abruptly. Her red face +had grown a shade paler, and her round, brown eyes +were suspiciously watery. But she gazed steadily +down the trail on which all her hopes were set. The +guests stood around in respectful silence. The party +which had arrived so light-heartedly had now become +as solemn as though they had come to attend a +funeral. The minister continued to glance at his +watch from time to time. He had probably never in +his life so frequently referred to that faithful companion +of his preaching hours. Tim Gleichen and +Peter Furrers and Andy had moved off in the direction +of the sleighs. The others followed Mrs. Malling’s +example and bent their eyes upon the vanishing point +of the trail.</p> +<p>Suddenly an ejaculation escaped one of the +bystanders. Something moving had just come into +view. All eyes concentrated upon a black speck +which was advancing rapidly in a cloud of ground +snow. Hope rose at a bound to wild, eager delight. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +The object was a sleigh. And the speed at which it +was coming down the trail told them that it was +bearing the belated bridegroom, who, conscious of his +fault, was endeavouring to make up the lost time. +Mrs. Malling’s round face shone again in her relief, +and a sigh of content escaped her. Word was sent +at once to the bride, and all was enthusiasm again. +Then followed a terrible shock. Peter Furrer, more +long-sighted than the rest, delivered it in a boorish +fashion all his own.</p> +<p>“Ther’ ain’t no one aboard of that sleigh,” he called +out. “Say, them plugs is just boltin’. Gum, but they +be comin’ hell-belt-fer-leckshuns.” Every one understood +his expression, and faces that a moment before +had been radiant with hope changed their expression +with equal suddenness to doubt, then in a moment to +apprehension.</p> +<p>“You don’t say–––” Mrs. Malling gasped; it was +all she could say.</p> +<p>“It can’t–––” The minister got no further, and +he fingered his watch from force of habit.</p> +<p>“It’s–––” some one said and broke off. Then +followed an excited murmur. “What’s Peter going +to do?”</p> +<p>The young giant had darted off down the trail in +the direction of the approaching sleigh. He lurched +heavily over the snow, his ungainly body rolling to +his gait, but he was covering ground in much the +same way that a racing elephant might. His stride +carried him along at a great pace. The onlookers +wondered and exclaimed, their gaze alternating in +amazement between the two objects, the oncoming +sleigh and the huge lurching figure of the boy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></div> +<p>Now the sleigh was near enough for them to note +the truth of Peter’s statement. The horses, ungoverned +by any guiding hand, were tearing along at a desperate +pace. The cutter bumped and swayed in a threatening +manner; now it was lifted bodily from the trail as +its runners struck the banked sides of the furrows; +now it balanced on one side, hovering between overturning +and righting itself, now on the other; then +again it would jerk forward with a rush on to the +heels of the affrighted horses with maddening effect. +The poor brutes stretched themselves wildly to escape +from their terror. On they came amidst a whirl of +flying snow, and Peter had halted beside the trail +awaiting them.</p> +<p>Those who were watching saw the boy move outside +the beaten track. Already the panting of the +runaways could be heard by those looking on. If the +animals were not stayed in their mad career they +must inevitably crash into the school-house or collide +with the sleighs at the tying-posts. There was no +chance of their leaving the beaten trail, for they were +prairie horses.</p> +<p>Some of the men, as the realization of this fact +dawned upon them, hurried away to remove their +possessions to some more secure position, but most of +them remained gaping at the runaway team.</p> +<p>Now they saw Peter crouch down, beating the +snow under his feet to give himself a firm footing. +Barely fifty yards separated him from the sleigh. He +settled himself into an attitude as though about to +spring. Nearer drew the sleigh. The boy’s position +was fraught with the greatest danger. The onlookers +held their breath. What did he contemplate? Peter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +had methods peculiar to himself, and those who looked +wondered. Nearer––nearer came the horses. A +moment more and the boy was lost in the cloud of +snow which rose beneath the horses’ speeding feet. A +sigh broke from many of the ladies as they saw him +disappear. Then, next, there came an exclamation of +relief as they saw his bulky figure struggling wildly to +draw himself up over the high back of the sleigh. It +was no easy task, but Peter’s great strength availed +him. They saw him climb over and stand upon the +cushion, then, for a moment, he looked down as though +in doubt.</p> +<p>At last he leaned forward, and, laying hold of the +rail of the incurved dashboard, he climbed laboriously +out on to the setting of the sleigh’s tongue. The +flying end of one of the reins was waving annoyingly +beyond his reach. He ventured out further, still +holding to the dashboard, which swayed and bent +under the unaccustomed weight. Suddenly he made +a grab and caught the elusive strap and overbalanced +in the effort. He came within an ace of falling, but +was saved by lurching on to the quarters of one of +the horses. With a struggle he recovered himself +and regained the sleigh. The rest was the work of a +few seconds.</p> +<p>Bracing himself, he leant his whole weight on the +single rein. The horses swerved at once, and leaving +the trail plunged into the deep snow. The frantic +animals fell, recovered themselves, and floundered on, +then with a great jolt the sleigh turned over. Peter +shot clear of the wreck, but with experience of such +capsizes, he clung tenaciously to the rein. He was +dragged a few yards; then, trembling and ready to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +start off again at a moment’s notice, the jaded beasts +stood.</p> +<p>There was a rush of men to Peter’s assistance. The +women followed. But the latter never reached the +sleigh. Something clad in the brown fur of the +buffalo was lying beside the trail where the cutter had +overturned. Here they came to a stand, and found +themselves gazing down upon the inanimate form of +Leslie Grey.</p> +<p>It was a number of the younger ladies of the party +who reached the injured man first; the Furrer girls +and one of the Miss Covills. They paused abruptly +within a couple of yards of the fur-clad object and +craned forward, gazing down at it with horrified eyes. +The next minute they were thrust aside by the parson. +He came, followed by Mrs. Malling.</p> +<p>In a moment he had thrown himself upon his knees +and was looking into the pallid face of the prostrate +man, and almost unconsciously his hand pushed itself +in through the fastenings of the fur coat. He withdrew +it almost instantly, giving vent to a sharp +exclamation. It was covered with blood.</p> +<p>“Stand back, please, everybody,” he commanded.</p> +<p>He was obeyed implicitly. But his order came +too late. They had seen the blood upon his hand.</p> +<p>Miss Ganthorn began to faint and was led away. +Other girls looked as though they might follow suit. +Only Hephzibah Malling stood her ground. Her +face was blanched, but her mouth was tightly clenched. +She uttered no sound. All her anger against the +prostrate man had vanished; a world of pity was in +her eyes as she silently looked on.</p> +<p>The parson summoned some of the men.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></div> +<p>“Bear a hand, boys,” he said, in a business-like +tone which deceived no one. “We’d better get him +into the house.” Then, seeing Mrs. Malling, he went +on, “Get Prudence away at once. She must not +see.”</p> +<p>The old farm-wife hurried off, and the others gently +raised the body of the unconscious man and bore it +towards the house.</p> +<p>Thus did Leslie Grey attend his wedding.</p> +<p>The body was taken in by a back way to Sarah +Gurridge’s bedroom and laid upon the bed. Tim +Gleichen was dispatched at once to Lakeville for the +doctor. Then, dismissing everybody but Harry +Gleichen, Mr. Danvers proceeded to remove the sick +man’s outer clothing.</p> +<p>The room was small, the one window infinitely so. +A single sunbeam shone coldly in through the latter +and lit up the well-scrubbed bare floor. There was +nothing but the plainest of “fixings” in the apartment, +but they had been set in position by the deft +hand of a woman of taste. The bed on which the +unconscious man had been placed was narrow and +hard. Its coverlet was a patchwork affair of depressing +hue.</p> +<p>Mr. Danvers bent to his work with a full appreciation +of the tragedy which had happened. His face +was solemn, and expressive of the most tender solicitude +for the injured man. In a whisper he dispatched +his assistant for warm water and bandages, whilst he +unfastened and removed the fur coat. Inside the +clothing was saturated with still warm blood. The +minister’s lips tightened as the truth of what had +happened slowly forced itself upon his mind.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></div> +<p>So absorbed was he in his ministrations that he +failed to heed the sound of excited whisperings which +came to him from beyond the door. It was not until +the creaking of the hinges had warned him that the +door was ajar, that he looked up from his occupation. +At that moment there was a rustle of silk, the noise +of swift footsteps across the bare boards, and Prudence +was at the opposite side of the bed.</p> +<p>The soft oval of the girl’s face was drawn, and deep +lines of anxious thought had broken up the smooth +expanse of her forehead. Her eyes seemed to be +straining out of their sockets, and the whites were +bloodshot. She did not speak, but her look displayed +an anguish unspeakable. Her eyes were +turned upon the face of the prostrate man; she did +not appear to see the minister. Her look suggested +some mute question, which seemed to pass from her +troubled eyes to the silent figure. Watching her, +Danvers understood that, for the present, it would +be dangerous to break the dreadful silence that held +her. He stooped again and drew back the waistcoat +and began to cut away the under-garments from +Grey’s chest.</p> +<p>Swiftly as the minister’s deft fingers moved about +the man’s body, his thoughts travelled faster. He +was not a man given to morbid sentimentality; his +calling demanded too much of the practical side of +human nature. He was there to aid his flock, materially +as well as spiritually, but at the moment he felt +positively sick in the stomach with sorrow and pity +for the woman who stood like a statue on the other +side of what he knew to be this man’s deathbed. He +dared not look over at her again. Instead, he bent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +his head lower and concentrated his, mind on the +work before him.</p> +<p>The silence continued, broken only by an occasional +heavy gasp of breath from the girl. The dripping +shirt was cut clear of the man’s chest, and the woollen +under-shirt was treated in a similar manner. The +exposed flesh was crimson with the blood which was +slowly oozing from a small wound a few inches higher +up in the chest than where the heart was so faintly +beating. One glance sufficed to tell the parson that +medical aid would be useless. The wound was +through the lungs.</p> +<p>For a moment he hesitated. His better sense +warned him to keep silence, but pity urged him to +speak. Pity swayed him with the stronger hand.</p> +<p>“He is alive,” he said. And the next moment he +regretted his words.</p> +<p>The tension of the girl’s dreadful expression relaxed +instantly. It was as the lifting of a dead weight +which had crushed her heart within her. She had +been numbed, paralyzed. Actual suffering had not +been hers, she had experienced a suspension of feeling +which had resulted from the shock. But that +suspension was far more dreadful than the most acute +suffering. Her whole soul had asked her senses, +“What is it?” and the waiting for the answer had +been to her in the nature of a blank.</p> +<p>The minister’s low murmured sentence had supplied +her with an answer. “He is alive.” The words +touched the springs of life within her and a glad +flush swept over her straining nerves. Reason once +more resumed its sway, and thought flowed through +her brain in an unchecked torrent It seemed to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +Prudence as though some barrier had suddenly shut +off the simple life which had always been hers, and +had opened out for her a fresh existence in which she +found herself alone with the still, broken body of her +lover. For one brief instant her lips quivered, and a +faint in-catching of the breath told of the woman, +which, at the first return of feeling, had leapt uppermost +in her. But before the maturity of emotion +brought about the breakdown, a calm strength came to +her aid and steadied her nerves and checked the tears +which had so suddenly come into her eyes. Women +are like this. At a crisis in sickness they rise +superior to all emotion. When the crisis is past, +whether for good or ill, it is different.</p> +<p>The water was brought, and the minister set about +cleaning the discoloured flesh, while Prudence looked +on in silence. She was very pale, and her eyes were +painfully bright. While her gaze followed the gentle +movements of the minister, her thoughts were running +swiftly over the scenes of her life in which the +wounded man had played his part. She remembered +every look of the now closed eyes, and every expression +of his well-loved features. She called to mind +his words of hope, and the carefully-laid plans for his +advancement. Nor was there any taint of his selfishness +in her recollection of these things. Everything +about him, to her, was good and true. She loved him +with all the passionate intensity of one who had only +just attained to perfect womanhood. He had been to +her something of a hero, by reason of his headstrong, +dominating ways––ways which more often attract the +love of woman in the first flush of her youth than in +her maturer, more experienced years.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></div> +<p>The sponging cleaned the flesh of the ghastly +stain, and the small wound with its blackened rim +lay revealed in all its horrid significance. The girl’s +eyes fixed themselves on it, and for some seconds +she watched the blood as it welled up to the +surface. The meaning of the puncture forced itself +slowly upon her mind, and she realized that it +was no accident which had laid her lover low. +Her eyes remained directed towards the crimson +flow, but their expression had changed, as had +the set of her features. A hard, relentless look had +replaced the one of tender pity––a look which indexed +a feeling more strong than any other in +the human organism. She was beginning to understand +now that a crime had been committed, and +a vengeful hate for some person unknown possessed +her.</p> +<p>She pointed at the wound, and her voice sounded +icily upon the stillness of the room.</p> +<p>“That,” she said. “They have murdered him.”</p> +<p>“He has been shot.” The parson looked up into +the girl’s face.</p> +<p>Then followed a pause. Sarah Gurridge and +Prudence’s mother stole softly in and approached the +bedside. The former carried a tumbler of brandy in +her hand and came to Mr. Danvers’s side; Mrs. +Malling ranged herself beside her daughter, but the +latter paid no heed to her.</p> +<p>The farm-wife lifted the girl’s hand from the bedpost +and caressed it in loving sympathy. Then she +endeavoured to draw her away.</p> +<p>“Come, child, come with me. You can do no good +here.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div> +<p>Prudence shook her off roughly. Nor did she +answer. Her mother did not renew her attempt.</p> +<p>All watched while Danvers forced some of the +spirit between Grey’s tightly-closed lips and then +stood up to note the effect.</p> +<p>He was actuated by a single thought. He knew +that the man was doomed, but he hoped that consciousness +might be restored before the tiny spark of +life burnt itself out. There was something to be +said if human aid could give the dying man the +power to say it. Prudence seemed to understand +the minister’s motive, for she vaguely nodded her +approval as she saw the spirit administered.</p> +<p>All waited eagerly for the sign of life which the +stimulating properties of the spirit might reveal. The +girl allowed her thoughts to drift away to the lonely +trail over which her lover had driven. She saw in +fancy the crouching assailants firing from the cover +of some wayside bluff. She seemed to hear many +shots, to see the speeding horses, to hear the dull +sound of the fatal bullet as her man was hit. She +pictured to herself the assassins, with callous indifference, +as the cutter passed out of view, mounting their +horses and riding away. Her thoughts had turned +to the only criminals she understood––horse-thieves.</p> +<p>The sign of life which had been so anxiously +awaited came at last. It was apparent in the flicker +of the wax-like eyelids; in the faintest of sighs from +between the colourless lips. Danvers bent again over +the dying man and administered more of the spirit +It took almost instantaneous effect. The eyelids half +opened and the mouth distinctly moved. The action +was like that of one who is parched with thirst. Grey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +gasped painfully, and a strange rattle came from his +throat.</p> +<p>Danvers shook his head as he heard the sound. +Prudence, whose eyes had never left the dying man’s +face, spoke sharply. She voiced a common thought +“Who did it, Leslie?”</p> +<p>The minister nodded approval. For a moment his +eyes rested admiringly on the girl’s eager face. Her +courage astonished him. Then, as he read her expression +aright, his wonder lessened. The gulf is +bridged by a single span at the point of transition +from the girl to the woman. He understood that she +had crossed that bridge.</p> +<p>Grey struggled to speak, but only succeeded in +uttering an inarticulate sound. The minutes dragged. +The suspense was dreadful. They all realized that +he was fast sinking, but in every heart was a hope +that he would speak, would say one word which +might give some clue to what had happened.</p> +<p>The minister applied the rest of the brandy. The +dying man’s breathing steadied. The eyes opened +wider. Prudence leaned forward. Her whole soul +was in the look she bestowed upon the poor drawn +face, and in the tones of her voice.</p> +<p>“Leslie, Leslie, speak to me. My poor, poor boy. +Tell me, how did it happen? Who did it?”</p> +<p>The man gasped in response. He seemed to be +making one last great struggle against the overwhelming +weakness which was his. His head moved +and a feeble cough escaped his lips. The girl put her +arm under his head and slightly raised it, and the +dying eyes looked into hers. She could no longer +find words to utter; great passionate sobs shook her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +slight frame, and scalding tears coursed down her +cheeks and fell upon the dingy coverlet.</p> +<p>A whistling breath came from between the dying +man’s parted lips, and culminated in a hoarse rattling +in his throat. Then his body moved abruptly, and +one arm lifted from the elbow-joint, the head half +turned towards the girl, and words distinct, but halting, +came from the working lips.</p> +<p>“He––he––did––it. <i>Free––P––Press</i>. Yell––ow––G–––” The +last word died away to a gurgle. A +violent fit of coughing seized the dying man, then it +ceased suddenly. His head weighed like lead upon +the girl’s supporting hand, and a thin trickle of blood +bubbled from the corners of his mouth. Prudence +withdrew her arm from beneath him and replaced the +head upon the pillow. Her tears had ceased to flow +now.</p> +<p>“He is dead,” she said with studied calmness, as +she straightened herself up from the bed.</p> +<p>She moved a step or two away. Then she paused +uncertainly and gazed about her like one dazed. Her +mother went towards her, but before she reached her +side Prudence uttered a strange, wild cry and rushed +from the room, tearing wildly at the fastenings of her +silk dress as though to rid herself of the mocking +reminder of that awful day.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX_LONELY_RANCH_AT_OWL_HOOT' id='CHAPTER_IX_LONELY_RANCH_AT_OWL_HOOT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>LONELY RANCH AT OWL HOOT</h3> +</div> +<p>In spite of the recent tragic events the routine of +the daily life at Loon Dyke Farm was very little interfered +with. Just for a few weeks following upon +the death of Leslie Grey the organization of Mrs. +Malling’s household had been thrown out of gear.</p> +<p>The coming of the police and the general scouring +of the country for the murderers of the Customs +officer had entailed a “nine days’ wonder” around +the countryside, and had helped to disturb the wonted +peace of the farm. But the search did not last long. +Horse-thieves do not wait long in a district, and the +experience of the “riders of the plains” taught them +that it would be useless to pursue where there was no +clue to guide them. The search was abandoned after +a while, and the dastardly murder remained an unsolved +mystery.</p> +<p>The shock to Prudence’s nervous system had been +a terrible one, and a breakdown, closely bordering +upon brain fever, had followed. The girl’s condition +had demanded the utmost care, and, in this matter, +Sarah Gurridge had proved herself a loyal friend. Dr. +Parash, with conscientious soundness of judgment, had +ordered her removal for a prolonged sojourn to city +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +life in Toronto; a course which, in spite of heartbroken +appeal on the girl’s part, her mother insisted upon +carrying out with Spartan-like resolution.</p> +<p>“Broken hearts,” she had said to Sarah, during a +confidential chat upon the subject, “are only kept from +mending by them as talks sympathy. There isn’t +nothin’ like mixing with folks what’s got their own +troubles to worrit over. She’ll get all that for sure +when she gets to one o’ them cities. Cities is full of +purgat’ry,” she added profoundly. “I shall send her +down to sister Emma, she’s one o’ them hustlin’ +women that’ll never let the child rest a minute.”</p> +<p>And Sarah had approved feelingly.</p> +<p>So Prudence was safely dispatched eastwards for +an indefinite period before the spring opened. But +Hephzibah Malling had yet to realize that her daughter +had suddenly developed from a child, who looked +to her mother’s guidance in all the more serious questions +of life, into a woman of strong feelings and +opinions. This swift casting off of the fetters of childhood +had been the work of those few passionate +moments at the bedside of her dying lover.</p> +<p>Prudence had submitted to the sentence which her +mother, backed by the doctor’s advice, had passed, and +she went away. But in complying with the order she +had performed the last act which childhood’s use had +prompted. The period of her absence was indefinite. +The fiat demanded no limitation to her stay with +“sister” Emma. She could return when she elected +so to do. Bred in the pure air of the prairie, no city +could claim her for long. And so she returned to the +farm against all opposition within two months of +leaving it.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></div> +<p>The spring brought another change to the farm, a +change which was as welcome to the old farm-wife as +the opening of the spring itself. Hervey returned +from Niagara, bringing with him the story of the +failure of his mission. True to herself and the +advice of Iredale, Hephzibah made her proposition +to her son, with the result that, with some show of +distaste, he accepted the situation, and with his +three-legged companion took up his abode at the +farm.</p> +<p>And so the days lengthened and the summer heat +increased; the hay in the sloughs ripened and +filled the air with its refreshing odours; the black +squares of ploughed land were quickly covered with +the deepening carpet of green, succulent grain; the +wild currant-bushes flowered, and the choke-cherries +ripened on the laden branches, and the deep blue +vault of the heavens smiled down upon the verdant +world.</p> +<p>George Iredale again became a constant and welcome +visitor at the farm, nor in her leisure did Sarah +Gurridge seek relaxation in any other direction.</p> +<p>The morning was well advanced. The air was still +and very hot. There was a peaceful drowsiness about +the farm buildings and yard which was only broken by +the occasional squeal of the mouching swine routing +amongst any stray garbage their inquisitive eyes +happened to light upon. The upper half of the barn +door stood open, and in the cool shade of the interior +could be seen the outline of dark, well-rounded forms +looming between the heel-posts of the stalls which +lined the side walls. An occasional impatient stamp +from the heavily-shod hoofs told of the capacity for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +annoyance of the ubiquitous fly or aggravating mosquito, +whilst the steady grinding sound which pervaded +the atmosphere within, and the occasional +“gush” of distended nostrils testified to healthy +appetites, and noses buried in mangers well filled with +sweet-smelling “Timothy” hay.</p> +<p>The kitchen doorway was suddenly filled with the +ample proportions of Hephzibah Malling. She moved +out into the open. She was carrying a large pail +filled with potato-parings and other fragments of +culinary residuum. A large white sun-bonnet protected +her grey head and shaded her now flaming +face from the sun, and her dress, a neat study in +grey, was enveloped in a huge apron.</p> +<p>She moved out to a position well clear of the +buildings and began to call out in a tone of persuasive +encouragement––</p> +<p>“Tig––tig––tig! Tig––tig––tig!”</p> +<p>She repeated her summons several times, then +moved on slowly, continuing to call at intervals.</p> +<p>The swine gathered with a hungry rush at her +heels, and their chorus of acclamation drowned her +familiar cry. Passing down the length of the barn +she reached a cluster of thatched mud hovels. Here +she opened the crazy gate to admit her clamorous +flock, and then deposited the contents of her pail in +the trough provided for that purpose. The pigs +fell-to with characteristic avidity, complaining vociferously +the while as only pigs will.</p> +<p>She stood for a few moments looking down at her +noisy charges with calculating eyes. It was a fine +muster of young porkers, and the old lady was estimating +their bacon-yielding capacity.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></div> +<p>Suddenly her reflections were interrupted by the +sound of footsteps, and turning, she saw Hervey +crossing the yard in the direction of the creamery. +She saw him disappear down the steps which led to +the door, for the place was in the nature of a dugout +She sighed heavily and moved away from +her porkers, and slowly she made her way to the +wash-house. The sight of this man had banished all +her feelings of satisfaction. Her son was a constant +trouble to her; a source of grave worry and anxiety. +Her hopes of him had been anything but fulfilled.</p> +<p>In the meantime Hervey had propped himself +against the doorway of the creamery and was talking +to his sister within. The building, like all dugouts, +was long and low; its roof was heavily thatched +to protect the interior from the effects of the sun’s +rays. Prudence was moving slowly along the two +wide counters which lined the walls from one end to +the other. Each counter was covered with a number +of huge milk-pans, from which the girl was carefully +skimming the thick, yellow cream. She worked +methodically; and the rich fat dropped with a heavy +“plonk” into the small pail she carried, in a manner +which testified to the quality of the cream.</p> +<p>She looked a little paler than usual; the healthy +bloom had almost entirely disappeared from her +cheeks, and dark shadows surrounded her brown +eyes. But this was the only sign she displayed of +the tragedy which had come into her young life. +The trim figure was unimpaired, and her wealth of +dark hair was as carefully adjusted as usual. Hervey +watched his sister’s movements as she passed from +pan to pan.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div> +<p>“Iredale wants me to ride over to Owl Hoot +to-day,” he said slowly. “We’re going to have an +afternoon’s ‘chicken shoot.’ He says the prairie-chicken +round his place are as thick as mosquitoes. +He’s a lucky beggar. He seems to have the best of +everything. I’ve scoured our farm all over and +there’s not so much as a solitary grey owl to get a +pot at. I hate the place.”</p> +<p>Prudence ceased working and faced him. She +scornfully looked him up and down. At that +moment she looked very picturesque with her black +skirt turned up from the bottom and pinned about +her waist, displaying an expanse of light-blue petticoat. +Her blouse was a simple thing in spotless +white cotton, with a black ribbon tied about her +neck.</p> +<p>“I think you are very ungrateful, Hervey,” she +said quietly. “I’ve only been home for a few +months, and not a day has passed but what I’ve +heard you grumble about something in connection +with your home. If it isn’t the dulness it’s the +work; if it isn’t the work it’s your position of +dependence, or the distance from town, or the people +around us. Now you grumble because of the shooting. +What do you want? We’ve got a section and +a half, nearly a thousand acres, under wheat; we’ve +got everything that money can buy in the way of +improvements in machinery; we’ve got a home that +might fill many a town-bred man with envy, and a +mother who denies us nothing; and yet you aren’t +satisfied. What <i>do</i> you want? If things aren’t +what you like, for goodness’ sake go back to the wilds +again, where, according to your own account, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +were happy. Your incessant grumbling makes me +sick.”</p> +<p>“A new departure, sister, eh?” Hervey retorted, +smiling unpleasantly. “I always thought it was +everybody’s privilege to grumble a bit. Still, I don’t +think it’s for you to start lecturing me if even it isn’t. +Mother’s treated me pretty well––in a way. But +don’t forget she’s only hired me the same as she’s +hired Andy, or any of the rest of the hands. Why, +I haven’t even the same position as you have. I am +paid so many dollars a month, for which I have to +do certain work. Let me tell you this, my girl: if I +had stayed on this farm until father died my position +would have been very different. It would all have +been mine now.”</p> +<p>“Well, since you didn’t do so, the farm is mother’s.” +Prudence’s pale cheeks had become flushed with +anger. “And I think, all things considered, she has +treated you particularly well.”</p> +<p>And she turned back to her work.</p> +<p>The girl was very angry, and justifiably so. Hervey +was lazy. The work which was his was rarely +done unless it happened to fall in with his plans for +the moment. He was thoroughly bearish to both his +mother and herself, and he had already overdrawn +the allowance the former had made him. All this +had become very evident to the girl since her return +to the farm, and it cut her to the quick that the +peace of her home should have been so rudely +broken. Even Prudence’s personal troubles were +quite secondary to the steady grind of Hervey’s ill-manners.</p> +<p>Curiously enough, after the first passing of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +shock of Grey’s death she found herself less stricken +than she would have deemed it possible. There +could be no doubt that she had loved the man in her +girlish, adoring fashion.</p> +<p>She had thought that never again could she return +to the place which had such dread memories for her. +Thoughts of the long summer days, and the dreary, +interminable winter, when the distractions of labour +are denied the farmer, had been revolting to her. To +live within a few miles of where that dreadful tragedy +had occurred; to live amongst the surroundings +which must ever be reminding her of her dead lover; +these things had made her shrink from the thought +of the time when she would again turn westward to +her home.</p> +<p>But when she had once more taken her place in +the daily life at the farm, it was, at first with a certain +feeling of self-disgust, and later with thankfulness, +that she learned that she could face her old life with +perfect equanimity. The childish passion for her +dead lover had died; the shock which had suddenly +brought about her own translation from girlhood to +womanhood had also dispelled the illusions of her +girlish first love.</p> +<p>She confided nothing to anybody, but just went +about her daily round of labours in a quiet, pensive +way, striving by every means to lighten her mother’s +burden and to help her brother to the path which +their father before them had so diligently trodden.</p> +<p>Her patience had now given way under the +wearing tide of Hervey’s dissatisfaction, and it +seemed as though a rupture between them were +imminent.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div> +<p>“Oh, well enough, if you consider bare duty,” +Hervey retorted after a deliberate pause.</p> +<p>“Bare duty, indeed!” Prudence’s two brown eyes +flashed round on him in an instant. “You are the +sort of man who should speak of duty, Hervey. You +just ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your mother’s +debt of duty towards you was fulfilled on the day +you left the farm years ago. She provided you with +liberal capital to start you in life. Now you have +come back, and she welcomes you with open arms––we +both do––glad that you should be with us again. +And what return have you made to her for her goodness? +I’ll tell you; you have brought her nothing +but days of unhappiness with your lazy, grumbling +ways. If you are going to continue like this, for +goodness’ sake go away again. She has enough on +her shoulders without being worried by you.”</p> +<p>The man looked for a moment as though he were +going to give expression to some very nasty talk. +Prudence had returned to her pans and so lost the +evil glance of his expressive eyes. Then his look +changed to a mocking smile, and when he spoke his +words were decidedly conciliating.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I’ve done something to offend you, +Prue. But you shouldn’t use hard words like that +I know I’m not much of a farmer, and I am always +a bit irritable when I am not my own master. But +don’t let’s quarrel. I wanted to talk to you about +George Iredale. He seems a jolly decent fellow––much +too good to be kicking his heels about in such +a district as Owl Hoot. He’s extremely wealthy, +isn’t he?”</p> +<p>The girl felt angry still, but Hervey’s tone slightly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +mollified her. She answered shortly enough, and the +skimming of the milk was not done with the adeptness +which she usually displayed.</p> +<p>“Rich? Yes, he’s one of the richest men in +Manitoba. Why?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. He seems very interested in––us. +He’s always over here. And he never by any +chance loses an opportunity of ingratiating himself +with mother. I wonder what his object is?”</p> +<p>Prudence bent over her work to hide the tell-tale +flush which had spread over her face, and the skimming +was once more done with the utmost care.</p> +<p>“Mother is very fond of Mr. Iredale,” she replied +slowly. “He is a good man, and a good friend. +We, as you know, are his nearest neighbours. Are +you going over there to-day?”</p> +<p>“I think so. Why?”</p> +<p>“Oh––it doesn’t matter––I was going to ask you +to ride over to Lakeville to ask Alice Gordon to +come here during the harvesting. She’s staying with +the Covills. But it doesn’t matter in the least, I +can send one of the boys.”</p> +<p>“Yes, better send one of the boys. I’m going over +to Lonely Ranch. I shall cultivate Iredale; he’s the +only man I care about round here.”</p> +<p>Prudence had nearly completed her operations and +was salting the cream in the pail.</p> +<p>“Say, sis, did it ever strike you that Iredale’s dead +sweet on you?” Hervey went on coarsely.</p> +<p>The girl suddenly turned and looked her brother +squarely in the face. Her brow was again flushed, +but now with anger.</p> +<p>“You’ll lose the best of your shooting if you don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +hurry. You’ve got ten miles to ride. And––I am +going to lock up.”</p> +<p>Her brother didn’t offer to move.</p> +<p>“Why do you do all this work?” he went on +calmly. “Why don’t you send all the milk to the +Government creamery? It’ll save labour, and you get +market price for the produce.”</p> +<p>“Because Government creameries are for those who +can’t afford to send their stuff to market, or make +their cheese on their farms.”</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s the worst of being large farmers, it +entails so much work. By Jove! Iredale doesn’t +work like we ‘moss-backs’ have to, and he’s made a +fortune. I guess if there were a Mrs. George Iredale +she’d have a bully time. No cheese- or butter-making, +eh, sis?” And, with a grin, Hervey turned on his +heel, and, passing up the steps, walked away towards +the barn.</p> +<p>Prudence waited until her brother had disappeared +within the stables; then she locked up. As she +turned from the door she heard her mother’s voice +calling.</p> +<p>“Girl––girl, where are you?”</p> +<p>“Here I am, mother dear, at the creamery.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling trundled round the corner of the +house.</p> +<p>“Prudence, there’s young Peter Furrer come over, +and I haven’t time to stop and gossip with him. +Like as not he don’t want to talk to a body like me, +anyway. Just drop that skirt o’ yours, girl, and go +and see him. A nice time o’ day to come a-courtin’. +He’ll be a-follerin’ you to the grain fields when we’re +harvesting.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>Prudence smiled.</p> +<p>“Never mind, mother. He’s come at an opportune +moment. I want a messenger to go over to Lakeville. +He’ll do. I’m sending word to Alice Gordon. +I want her to come here for the harvesting. Alice +must get very sick of living at Ainsley, in spite of the +fact of her beau living there. I’ve a good mind to tell +her to bring him out here. Shan’t be long, dear; +I’ll join you directly. Where are you? In the wash-house?”</p> +<p>The girl ran off, letting her skirt fall as she went +The mother passed on to the wash-house, muttering +to herself as she went.</p> +<p>“La, if he were only like her. But there, the Lord +ordains, and them as brings their offspring into the +world must abide the racket. But it goes hard with +a man about the house who idles. Mussy-a-me, he +ain’t like his poor father. And I’m not goin’ to give +him no extra dollars to fling around in Winnipeg. +He’s too fond of loose company.”</p> +<p>The old lady continued to mutter audibly until she +reached the wash-house door, where she disappeared +just as the object of her thoughts led his horse out of +the barn, jumped on its back, and rode away.</p> +<p>It was noon when Hervey reached Owl Hoot. +He had been there several times lately, sometimes +at George Iredale’s invitation, but generally at his +own. He had his own particular reasons for cultivating +the owner of Lonely Ranch, and those +reasons he kept carefully to himself. This unworthy +son had only been at Loon Dyke Farm for little +more than four months, and during that brief period +he had plainly shown what manner of man he was.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></div> +<p>Even the doting affection of his mother had not +blinded that simple soul to his shortcomings. Each +month since his coming he had steadily overdrawn +his allowance to no inconsiderable extent. His +frequent visits to Winnipeg had always ended in +his return home with pockets empty, and an +accumulation of debts, of which he said nothing, +left behind him. Then came the inevitable request +for money, generally backed up by some plausible +excuse, and Hephzibah’s cheque-book was always +forthcoming on these occasions. But though, hitherto, +she had not failed him, he saw by her manner that +the time was not far distant when her sweet old +face would become curiously set, and the comely +mouth would shut tight, and the cheque-book would +remain locked in her wardrobe, while he poured his +flimsy excuses on stone-deaf ears.</p> +<p>He understood his mother. She would do much, +perhaps far too much for her children, but she would +not allow herself to be preyed upon; she was too keen +a business woman for that. Besides, his accumulation +of debts was now so great that all he was able to +bleed her for would be but a drop in the ocean. In +Winnipeg he posed as the owner of Loon Dyke Farm, +and as such his credit was extensive. But now there +were clamourings for settlements, and Hervey knew +that gaming debts and hotel bills must be met in due +course. Tradesmen can wait, they have redress from +owners of property, but the others have no such means +of repaying themselves, therefore they must be paid +if he wished to remain in the district. Now he meant +to raise what he required from Iredale. He had +recognized the fact that Iredale was in love with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +Prudence, nor was he slow to appreciate the possibilities +which this matter suggested as a money-raising +means. Yes, Hervey intended that Iredale +should pay for the privilege of enjoying his sister’s +society. Money he must have, and that at once.</p> +<p>It was a wild, desolate region which he rode +through on his way to Lonely Ranch. No one, finding +themselves suddenly dropped into the midst of +those wood-covered crags and clean-cut ravines, the +boulder-strewn, grassless land, would have dreamed +that they were within half-a-dozen miles of the +fertile prairie-lands of Canada. It was like a slum +hidden away in the heart of a fashionable city. The +country round the mysterious Lake of the Woods is +something utterly apart from the rest of the Canadian +world, and partakes much of the nature of the +Badlands of Dakota. It is tucked away in the +extreme south-eastern corner of Manitoba, and the +international boundary runs right through the heart +of it.</p> +<p>Lonely Ranch was situated in an abrupt hollow, +and was entirely lost to view in a mammoth growth +of pinewoods. Years ago a settlement had existed +in this region, but what the nature of that settlement +it was now impossible to tell. Local tradition +held that, at some far-distant period, the place +had been occupied by a camp of half-breed “bad-men” +who worked their evil trade upon the south +side of the American border, and sought security +in the shelter of this perfect hiding-place. Be that +as it may, it was now the abode of George Iredale, +rancher. He had built for himself a splendid house +of hewn logs, and his outbuildings––many of them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +the restored houses of the early settlers––and corrals +formed a ranch of very large dimensions.</p> +<p>And it was all hidden away in black woods which +defied the keenest observation of the passer-by. And +the hollow was approached by a circuitous road which +entered the cutting at its northern end. Any other +mode of ingress was impossible for any beast of +burden.</p> +<p>As Hervey entered the valley and became lost to +view in the sombre woods, he was greeted by the +woeful cry of a screech-owl. So sudden and unexpected +was the ear-piercing cry that both horse and +rider started. The horse threw up its head and +snorted, and stood for an instant trembling with +apprehension. Hervey looked about him keenly. +He could see nothing but the crowd of leafless tree-trunks, +and a bed of dry pine-cones which covered +the surrounding earth. The owl was probably hidden +in the hollow of some dead tree, for there were +many about. He pressed his horse forward. The +animal moved cautiously, dancing along in its nervous +apprehension.</p> +<p>Presently another cry split the air. Again some +owl had protested at his intrusion.</p> +<p>So suddenly did the cry come that Hervey felt +a slight superstitious quiver pass down his back, but +he rode on. He had nearly a mile of the valley to +travel before he came to the house, and, during the +journey, seven times came the hideous screech of +the owls. Now he began to understand why this +place was called “Owl Hoot.”</p> +<p>It was with a feeling of relief that he at length +saw the ranch through the trees, and he greeted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +Iredale, who was standing in his doorway when he +dismounted, with genuine pleasure.</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, after shaking his host by the +hand, “another mile of this d–––d valley and I +should have turned tail and fled back to the open. +Why, you must have a regular colony of owls in +the place. Man, I never heard such weird cries +in my life. How is it that I haven’t heard them +before when I came here?”</p> +<p>Iredale took his visitor’s horse. He was dressed in +moleskin. Underneath his loose, dun-coloured vest +he wore a soft shirt, and in place of a linen collar he +had a red bandana tied about his neck. His headgear +was a Stetson hat. In this garb he looked +much more burly and powerful than in the tweeds +he usually wore when visiting at the farm. His +strong, patient face was lit by a quiet smile. He +was a man whose eyes, and the expression of his +features, never betrayed his thoughts. A keen +observer would have noticed this at once, but to +such people as he encountered he merely appeared +a kindly man who was not much given to talking.</p> +<p>“Colony of owls, eh?” he said, leading the horse +in the direction of the barn. “Those cries you have +heard are what this cheerful place takes its name +from. It only needs one cry to set the whole valley +ringing with them. Had not the first creature seen +you approach you might have reached your destination +without hearing one disturbing sound. As a +rule, in the daytime, they are not heard, but at night +no one can enter these woods without the echoes +being aroused. When they begin to shriek there is +no sleep for any one in my house.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></div> +<p>“So I should say. Well, never mind them now, +we have other matters on hand. What coverts are we +going to shoot over first?”</p> +<p>Hervey had followed his host to the stable. A +strange-looking little creature came from the obscurity +within. He was an undersized man with a small +face, which seemed somehow to have shrivelled up +like a dead leaf. He had a pair of the smallest eyes +Hervey had ever seen, and not a vestige of hair on +his face. His head was covered with a crown of +bristly grey hair that seemed to grow in patches, +and his feet were both turned in one direction––to +the right.</p> +<p>“Take this plug and give him a rub down, Chintz,” +said Iredale. “When he’s cool, water and feed him. +Mr. Malling won’t need him until about eight o’clock.”</p> +<p>Then he turned towards the house.</p> +<p>“He don’t waste words,” observed Hervey, indicating +the man, who had silently disappeared into the +stable, taking the horse with him.</p> +<p>“No; he’s dumb,” replied Iredale. “He’s my head +boy.”</p> +<p>“Boy?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Sixty-two.”</p> +<p>The two men passed into Iredale’s sitting-room. +It was plainly but comfortably furnished in a typical +bachelor manner. There were more signs of the +owner’s sporting propensities in the room than anything +else, the walls being arranged with gun-racks, +fishing-tackle, and trophies of the chase.</p> +<p>“We’ll draw the bush on the other side of the +Front Hill, otherwise known as the ‘Haunted Hill,’” +said Iredale, pointing to a gun-rack. “Select your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +weapon. I should take a mixed bore––ten and +twelve. We may need both. There are some geese +in a swamp over that way. The cartridges are in the +bookcase; help yourself to a good supply, and one +of those haversacks.”</p> +<p>Hervey did as his host suggested.</p> +<p>“Why ‘Haunted Hill’?” he asked curiously.</p> +<p>Iredale shrugged.</p> +<p>“By reason of a little graveyard on the side of it. +Evidently where the early settlers buried their dead. +It is a local name given, I suppose, by the prairie folk +of your neighbourhood. Come on.”</p> +<p>The two men set out. Nor did they return until +six o’clock. Their shoot was productive of a splendid +bag––prairie chicken and geese. Both men were +excellent shots. Iredale was perhaps the better of +the two, at least his bag numbered two brace more +than that of his companion; but then, as Hervey told +himself, he was using a strange gun, whilst Iredale +was using the weapon he most favoured. Supper +was prepared by the time they returned to the house. +Iredale, healthily hungry and calmly contented, sat +down to the meal; Hervey, famished by his unusual +exercise, joined him in the loudest of good spirits.</p> +<p>Towards the close of the meal, when the whisky-and-water +Hervey had liberally primed himself with +had had due effect, he broached the subject that +was ever uppermost in his thoughts. He began +expansively––</p> +<p>“You know, George,”––he had already adopted the +familiarity, and Iredale had not troubled to show +disapproval, probably he remembered the relationship +between this man and Prudence,––“I’m sick of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +farming. It’s too monotonous. Not only that; so +long as mother lives I am little better than a hired +man. Of course she’s very good,” he went on, +as he noted a sudden lowering of his companion’s +eyelids; “does no end for me, and all that sort of +thing; but my salary goes nowhere with a man who +has––well––who has hitherto had considerable resources. +It’s no easy thing under the circumstances +to keep my expenses down. It seems such nonsense, +when one comes to think of it, that I, who will +eventually own the farm, subject, of course, to some +provision for Prue, have to put up with a trifling +allowance doled out to me every month; it’s really +monstrous. Who ever heard of a fellow living on +one hundred dollars a month! That’s what I’m +getting. Why, I owe more than five months’ wages +at the Northern Union Hotel in Winnipeg. It can’t +be done; that’s all about it.”</p> +<p>Iredale looked over at the dark face opposite him. +Nor could he help drawing a comparison between the +man and the two ladies who owned him, one as +brother, the other as son. How utterly unlike them +he was in every way. There was not the smallest +resemblance in mind, face, or figure. His thoughts +reverted to Silas Malling, and here they paused. +Here was the resemblance of outward form; and he +wondered what unfathomed depths had lain in the +nature of the old farmer which could have communicated +themselves in such developed form to the son. +It was inconceivable that this indolent, selfish spendthrift +could have inherited his nature from Silas +Malling. No; he felt sure that some former ancestor +must have been responsible for it. He understood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +the drift of Hervey’s words in a twinkling. He had +experienced this sort of thing before from other men. +Now he did not discourage it.</p> +<p>“A hundred a month on the prairie should be a +princely––er––wage,” he said in his grave way. “Of +course it might be different in a city.”</p> +<p>“It is,” said Hervey decidedly. “I don’t know, +I’m sure,” he went on, after a moment’s pause. “I +suppose I must weather through somehow.”</p> +<p>He looked across at Iredale in such a definitely +meaning way that the latter had no hesitation in +speaking plainly. He knew it was money, and this +was Prudence’s brother.</p> +<p>“Got into a––mess?” he suggested encouragingly.</p> +<p>Hervey felt that he had an easy victim, but he +smoked pensively for a moment before he spoke, +keeping his great eyes turned well down upon the +table-cover.</p> +<p>“Um––I lost a lot of money at poker the last time +I was in the city. I was in an awful streak of bad +luck; could do nothing right. Generally it’s the +other way about. Now they’re pressing me to redeem +the I.O.U.s. When they owe me I notice +they’re not so eager about it.”</p> +<p>“That’s bad; I’m sorry to hear it.” Iredale’s eyes +were smiling, whilst in their depths there was the +faintest suspicion of irony. He was in no way +imposed upon by the breadth of the fabrication. It +was the old story. He, too, lit his pipe and leant +back in his chair. “I hope the amount is not too +overwhelming. If I can––er––be–––”</p> +<p>Hervey interrupted him eagerly. He brought his +hand down heavily upon the table.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div> +<p>“By Jove! you are a good sort, George. If you +could––just a loan, of course––you see I can offer you +security on my certain inheritance of the farm–––”</p> +<p>But Iredale had no wish to hear anything about +his future possibilities of inheritance. He interrupted +him sharply, and his tone was unusually icy.</p> +<p>“Tut––tut, man. Never mind about that. In spite +of your need of money, I hope it will be many a year +before your mother leaves our farming world.”</p> +<p>“I trust so,” murmured Hervey, without enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“How much will appease your creditors?”</p> +<p>Iredale spoke with such indifference about the +amount that Hervey promptly decided to double the +sum he originally intended to ask for.</p> +<p>“Five thousand dollars,” he said, with some show +of diffidence, but with eyes that gazed hungrily +towards this man who treated the loaning of a large +amount in such a careless manner.</p> +<p>Iredale offered no comment. He merely rose from +his seat, and opening a drawer in his bookcase, +produced a cheque-book and a pen and ink. He +made out a cheque for the amount named, and +passed it across the table. His only remark was––</p> +<p>“Your luck may change. Pay me when you like. +No, don’t bother about a receipt.”</p> +<p>Hervey seized upon the piece of paper. He was +almost too staggered to tender his thanks. Iredale +in his quiet way was watching, nor was any movement +on his companion’s part lost to his observant +eyes. He had “sized” this man up, from the soles of +his boots to the crown of his head, and his contempt +for him was profound. But he gave no sign. His +cordiality was apparently perfect. The five thousand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +dollars were nothing to him, and he felt that the +giving of that cheque might save those at Loon +Dyke Farm from a world of anxiety and trouble. +Somehow behind that impassive face he may have +had some thoughts of the coming of a future time +when he would be able to deal with this man’s mode +of life with that firmness which only relationship +could entitle him to––when he could personally +relieve Hephzibah of the responsibility and wearing +anxiety of her worthless son’s doings. In the meantime, +like the seafaring man, he would just “stand by.”</p> +<p>“I can’t thank you enough, George,” said Hervey +at last. “You have got me out of an awkward +situation. If I can do you a good turn, I will.” +Iredale detected a meaning emphasis in the last +remark which he resented. “Some day,” the man +went on; “but there––I will say no more.”</p> +<p>“No, I shouldn’t say anything. These things +happen in the course of a lifetime, and one mustn’t +say too much about them.” The two men then +smoked on in silence.</p> +<p>Presently Hervey rose to go. It was nearly eight +o’clock.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Iredale, as he prepared to bid his +guest good-bye, “we have had a good afternoon’s +sport. Now you know my coverts you must come +over again. Come whenever you like. If I am +unable to go with you, you are welcome to shoot +over the land by yourself. There are some grand +antelope about the place.”</p> +<p>“Thanks. I shall certainly come again. And––well, +when are you coming over to us again? I can’t +offer you any shooting.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></div> +<p>“Don’t trouble,” smiled Iredale.</p> +<p>Hervey saw the “boy” Chintz leading his horse +round.</p> +<p>“You might tell your mother,” the rancher went on, +“that I’ll come to-morrow to read over that fencing +contract she spoke about for her.”</p> +<p>Hervey leered round upon him.</p> +<p>“Will it do if I tell Prue instead?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not.” Iredale’s face was quite expressionless +at that moment. “You will please do as I +ask.”</p> +<p>Hervey gulped down his chagrin; but his eyes +were alight with the anger from which his lips +refrained. He mounted his horse.</p> +<p>“Well, good-bye, George,” he said, with a great +display of cordiality. “I hope those owls of yours +will permit me to ride in peace.”</p> +<p>“I have no doubt they will,” replied Iredale, with +an inscrutable smile. “Good-bye.”</p> +<p>Hervey rode away. The man he had left remained +standing at his front door. The horseman half +turned in his saddle as the bush closed about him.</p> +<p>“Curse the man for his d–––d superiority,” he +muttered. “I suppose he thinks I am blind. Well, +Mr. Iredale, we’ve made a pleasant start from my +point of view. If you intend to marry Prudence +you’ll have to pay the piper. Guess I’m that piper. +It’s money I want, and it’s money you’ll have to pay.”</p> +<p>The mysterious owner of Lonely Ranch was +thinking deeply as he watched his guest depart.</p> +<p>“I believe he’s the greatest scoundrel I have ever +come across,” he said to himself. “Money? Why, +he’d sell his soul for it, or I’m no judge of men of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +his kidney, and, worse luck, I know his sort well +enough. I wonder what made me do it? Not friendship. +Prudence? No, not exactly. And yet––I +don’t know. I think I’d sooner have him on my side +than against me.” Then he turned his eyes towards +the corrals and outbuildings which were dotted about +amongst the trees, and finally they settled upon a +little clearing on the side of Front Hill. It was a +graveyard of the early settlers. “Yes, I must break +away from it all––and as soon as possible. I have +said so for many a year, but the fascination of it has +held me. If I hope to ever marry Prudence I must +give it up. I must not––dare not let her discover the +truth. The child’s goodness drives me to desperation. +Yes––it shall all go.”</p> +<p>His gaze wandered in the direction Hervey had +taken, and a troubled look came into his calm eyes. +A moment later he turned suddenly with a shiver and +passed into the house. Somehow his thoughts were +very gloomy.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X_THE_GRAVEYARD_AT_OWL_HOOT' id='CHAPTER_X_THE_GRAVEYARD_AT_OWL_HOOT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>THE GRAVEYARD AT OWL HOOT</h3> +</div> +<p>Prudence and Alice Gordon surveyed the wild +scene that suddenly opened out before them. They +had drawn their horses up to a standstill on the brow +of no inconsiderable hill, and beyond stretched a +panorama of strikingly impressive beauty. Nature in +one of her wildest moments, verdant and profound, +was revealed.</p> +<p>Alice was a pretty girl, rather ordinary, and ever +ready for laughter, which helped to conceal an undercurrent +of serious thought. She was an old pupil of +Sarah Gurridge’s, and consequently Prudence’s school-friend. +But Alice lived in Ainsley, where, report had +it, she was “keeping company” with Robb Chillingwood, +and now the two girls only met when Alice +visited the farm at such seasons of the year as the +present.</p> +<p>“Do you think it will be safe to go further?” asked +Alice, in a tone of awestruck amazement. “You say +you are sure of the way. Would it not be better to +turn off here and make for Lonely Ranch, and seek +Chintz’s guidance? There is time enough, and it is +so easy to get lost.”</p> +<p>The girls had set out to visit Lonely Ranch, to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +enjoy a ramble and a sort of picnic in the surrounding +woods. Iredale was away on business, and the two +friends, availing themselves of the opportunity, were +taking a day off from the duties of the farm. They +had started with the intention of riding over and +leaving their horses with Iredale’s man, Chintz, and +then proceeding on foot. At the last moment Prudence +had changed her mind and decided on a visit to +the great Lake of the Woods, which was two miles +further on to the south-west of the ranch. They +carried their provisions in their saddle-bags, and had +made up their minds to find some suitable break in +the woods on the shore of the lake where they could +tether their horses and idle the afternoon away.</p> +<p>Instead of turning into the valley of Owl Hoot +they had crossed the mouth of it, and were now at +the summit of its eastern slope, gazing out upon the +mysteries of the almost uninhabited regions beyond.</p> +<p>“Of course it’s safe, you silly,” said Prudence. +“Why, suppose we were to lose ourselves, that old +mare you are riding would take you home straight as +the crow flies. Besides, I have no fancy for that ferret-faced +Chintz becoming one of our party. We could +never talk freely in front of him.”</p> +<p>“All right, then,” said Alice, with a sigh. “You +are leader of this expedition. Don’t the woods look +gloomy? And look out beyond. There seems to be +no end to them. Shall we stop and have dinner here, +and ride on afterwards?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not, madam,” Prudence said briskly. +“No shirking; besides, we want water to make our +tea. There’s none here.”</p> +<p>Prudence understood her friend’s fears, which were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +not without reason. It was a simple thing to get lost +in such a forest. But anyway, as she had said, the +old prairie horses they were riding would carry them +home should they mistake the road. There was +really no danger.</p> +<p>It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining with +unabated splendour; as yet it wanted an hour to +noon. The brilliant daylight was somehow different +here to what it was on the prairie. The fierce sunlight +poured down upon an unbroken carpet of dull +green, which seemed to have in it a tinge of the blackness +of the heavy tree-trunks which it concealed +beneath. The result was curiously striking. The +brightness of the day was dulled, and the earth seemed +bathed in a peculiar light such as a vault of grey +rain-clouds above it bestows. The girls, gazing into +the valley which yawned at their feet, were looking +into a shadowed hollow of sombre melancholy––unchanging, +unrelieved.</p> +<p>Beyond stretched a vista of hills, growing steadily +greater as the hazy distance was reached. Behind +where they stood was the Owl Hoot valley and +woodlands, equally sombre, until the prairie was +reached.</p> +<p>The moments passed, and they made no effort to +move. They were both lost in thought, and looked +out across the wild woodlands with eyes which beheld +only that which was most profoundly beautiful. +Prudence was enjoying the scene, the redolent air +which rose from the woods below, the solitary grandeur +of the world about her, with all the appreciation of a +prairie-bred girl. Alice merely saw and marvelled at +the picture before her. She was less enthusiastic, less +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +used to such surroundings than her companion. They +affected her differently. She marvelled, she wondered, +but a peculiar nervousness was inspired by what she +beheld. At length Prudence took the initiative. She +lifted her reins and her horse moved forward.</p> +<p>“Come along, Alice,” she said. And the two +disappeared down the slope into the giant forest +below.</p> +<p>Once on their way Alice recovered her good spirits +again. Within the forest the world did not seem +so vast, so confusing to the eye. On either hand, +ahead, were to be seen only bare tree-trunks beneath +the ponderous green canopy which shut out the +sunlight from above. The scrunch of the pine-cones +crushing under the hoofs of the horses carried a +welcome sense of companionship to the riders. Alice +found the reality much less fearful than the contemplation +from the heights above. In a few moments +both girls were chattering gaily, all thoughts of +losing themselves, or of other dangers which these +virgin forests might conceal, having passed from their +minds.</p> +<p>Whatever doubts may have assailed Alice they +were soon set at rest, for, in a short time, after +ascending another rather sharp slope, they found +themselves gazing down upon a long, narrow sheet of +water. It was one of the many inlets with which the +shores of the mysterious Lake of the Woods abound. +From where the girls first caught sight of it, it looked +as though the forest had been cleanly rent by the +glistening water which had cut its way into the dense +growth, demolishing every sign of vegetation in its +path, but leaving everything which grew even down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +to its very edge. This inlet widened out between two +hills, and, beyond that, in a dazzling haze, the vast +body of the lake, like a distant view of the sea, was +just visible. It was a perfect picture.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it gorgeous?” said Prudence enthusiastically. +“Isn’t it worth a few miles’ ride to see it? I’m glad +we didn’t go and bother that horrid little Chintz. It +would have taken half the pleasure away to have had +his ferrety face with us.”</p> +<p>“Lovely––lovely,” exclaimed Alice rapturously. +Her bright eyes were dancing with delight, and her +breath came and went rapidly. “Just fancy, Prue; I +have lived all these years within reach of this place +and this is the first time I have ever set eyes upon +the lake.”</p> +<p>Her companion laughed.</p> +<p>“That is not to be wondered at. There are very +few people who ever come this way. Why, I couldn’t +say, unless it is that the country is bad to travel +through on this side. Mind, although there are few +habitations on the western shore, there are plenty to +the east and south. I never could understand why +George Iredale selected Owl Hoot for the site of his +ranch. Just think how delightful it would be to have +your home built on this hill.” The girl indicated +their position with her riding-whip. “Wouldn’t it be +delightful to wake each morning and gaze out upon +such a scene?”</p> +<p>“Perfect,” said Alice, whilst her eyes glanced +mischievously in her friend’s direction. “Summer or +winter?”</p> +<p>“Summer, of course, you goose,” exclaimed Prudence.</p> +<p>“Of course; winter would be different, wouldn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +it?” Alice was laughing, but Prudence was quite +serious.</p> +<p>“Yes; that’s the worst of all Nature’s finest handiwork. +There’s always some drawback to it. Ugh, +winter in this place would be too dreadful to contemplate. +These wilds are only fit for Indians and +coyotes and wolves when the summer is over.”</p> +<p>“But it’s a heavenly spot now,” said Alice. Suddenly +she raised her whip and pointed. Far down, +out upon the surface of the silvery belt of water, a +tiny speck was slowly moving. At first so distant +was it that it appeared to be stationary, but after a +while it was distinctly to be seen moving. “What +is it?” she questioned sharply.</p> +<p>“Looks like a boat,” replied Prudence. “I wonder +whose?”</p> +<p>“I give it up. Does Mr. Iredale keep a boat?”</p> +<p>Although Prudence was the elder of the two girls +she was much the simpler. She was essentially of +the prairie. She had no suspicion of the apparently +innocent inquiry.</p> +<p>“I don’t think so. I never really heard. No; I +should think that must belong to some Indians or +half-breed fishermen. There are some of those people +about, I believe.”</p> +<p>She continued to watch the boat for some moments. +The less serious girl beside her allowed her attention +to wander. Prudence saw the boat approach the near +shore. Then it disappeared under the shadow of the +towering pines. An exclamation from Alice drew her +attention.</p> +<p>“Look over the other side, Prue; there’s another +boat. It has just shot out from that great clump of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +undergrowth. Why, there are a dozen people in it. +Look! they are racing along. Where’s the other +gone?”</p> +<p>“It disappeared under this bank. Ah, the other +one is following in its wake. Yes, I should say those +are Indians.”</p> +<p>“Let us go on down. We can see better from the +bank. My curiosity is aroused. I didn’t know there +was so much fishing done here. Mr. Iredale never +speaks of it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think Mr. Iredale sees much of the lake. +His land––that is, his grazing––lies to the west of the +house. But he rarely talks about his work. As he +says, so few people care about this wild district that +he does not like to worry folks by reminding them of +its existence.”</p> +<p>“All the same,” replied Alice, “one of these fine +days some enterprising American will come along +and find out some, at present, unknown wealth in the +place, and then the settlers round the district will +kick themselves. Trust a Canuk for sitting down on +his hundred and sixty acres and never moving beyond +the limits of his fencing. I like this weird place, with +its woods, its hills and valleys, its lake and its +mysterious boats. You should draw George––I mean +Mr. Iredale––out. There must be a deal that is of +interest here.”</p> +<p>“Why should I draw him out?” asked Prudence +innocently, as the horses ambled down the hill towards +the shore of the lake. “You ask him. I believe he’d +like to tell some one all about it.”</p> +<p>“No, thanks, friend Prue,” said Alice cheerfully. +“I’m not what you might call a ‘free agent.’ There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +is a young man, to wit, a certain Robb, who might +object. Besides, I have not turned poacher yet.”</p> +<p>“What on earth do you mean?”</p> +<p>Prudence turned a pair of astonished brown eyes +on her companion. Alice didn’t answer, and the two +looked squarely into each other’s faces. The elder +girl read the meaning which Alice did not attempt +to conceal, and a warm flush mounted quickly and +suffused her sun-tanned face.</p> +<p>Then followed a long silence, and the crackling of +the pine-cones beneath the horses’ feet alone aroused +the echoes of the woods. Prudence was thinking +deeply. A thoughtful pucker marred the perfect arch +of her brows, and her half-veiled eyes were turned +upon her horse’s mane.</p> +<p>George Iredale. What of him? He seemed so to +have grown into her life of late that she would now +scarcely recognize Loon Dyke Farm without him. +This sudden reminder made her look back over the +days since her return from “down East,” and she +realized that George, since that time, had literally +formed part of her life. He was always in her thoughts +in some way or other. Every one on the farm spoke +of him as if he belonged to it. Hardly a day passed +but what some portion of it was spent by him in her +company. His absence was only when his business +took him elsewhere.</p> +<p>And what was the meaning of it all? What was +he to her that her friend should talk of “poaching” +when regarding her own intercourse with this man? +Prudence’s face grew hotter. The awakening had +come. At that moment she knew that George Iredale +was a good deal to her, and she felt a certain maidenly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +shame at the discovery. He had never uttered a word +of love to her––not one, in all the years she had +known him, and, unbidden, she had given him her +love. In those first moments of realization her heart +was filled with something like dismay which was not +wholly without a feeling of joy. She felt herself +flushing under the thoughts conjured by her friend’s +implication, and her feelings became worse as Alice +went on.</p> +<p>“Ah, Prue, you can’t hide these things from me. +I have always intended to say something, but you +are such an austere person that I was afraid of getting +a snub. Mr. Iredale is a charming man, and––well––I +hope when it comes off you’ll be very, very happy.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be absurd, Alice.” Prudence had recovered +herself now.</p> +<p>“My dear Prue,” the girl retorted emphatically, and +imitating the other’s lofty tone, “George Iredale just +worships the ground you walk on. One word of +encouragement from you, if you haven’t already given +it to him, and in a short time you will be the mistress +of Lonely Ranch.”</p> +<p>“Nothing of the sort”</p> +<p>“My dear girl, I know.”</p> +<p>“You know less than you think you do, and I am +not going to listen to any more of your nonsense.”</p> +<p>Prudence touched her horse’s flank with her heel +and trotted on ahead of her companion. But in her +heart she knew that what Alice had said was true.</p> +<p>Alice called after her to wait. The trees were so +closely set that she had difficulty in steering clear of +them; but Prudence was obdurate and kept right on. +Nor did she draw rein until the shore of the lake was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +reached, and then only did she do so because of the +impassable tangle of undergrowth which confronted +her. Just as Alice came up with her she started off +again at right angles to the direction they had come, +riding parallel with the bank. Alice, breathless and +laughing, followed in her wake, until at length a break +in the trees showed them a grassy patch which sank +slowly down in a gentle declivity to the water’s edge. +By the time this was reached Prudence’s good-humour +was quite restored.</p> +<p>“A nice dance you’ve led me,” expostulated Alice, +as they dismounted and began to off-saddle.</p> +<p>“Serves you right for your impertinence,” Prudence +smiled over at the other.</p> +<p>“All the same I’m right.”</p> +<p>“Now keep quiet, or I’ll ride off again and leave +you.”</p> +<p>“So you can if you like; this old mare I’m riding +will take me home straight as the crow flies. What’s +that?”</p> +<p>Out across the water came a long-drawn cry, so +weird yet so human that the two girls stood still as +statues, their faces blanching under their tan. The +echoes seemed to die hard, growing slowly fainter and +fainter. Alice’s eyes were widely staring and filled +with an expression of horror. Prudence recovered +herself first. She laughed a little constrainedly, +however.</p> +<p>“We are in the region of Owl Hoot,” she said +significantly. “That was one of the screech-owls.”</p> +<p>“O-oh! I thought it was some one being murdered.”</p> +<p>“We shall probably hear lots of strange cries; +these regions are renowned for them. You’ve got the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +kettle on your saddle, Al. Get all the things out +whilst I gather some kindling and make a fire.”</p> +<p>“For goodness’ sake don’t leave me here alone for +long,” Alice entreated. “I won’t mention George’s +name again, sure.”</p> +<p>But Prudence had tethered her horse and set off +on her quest. Alice, left alone, secured her horse +and proceeded to disgorge the contents of her saddle-bags, +and also those on her friend’s saddle. This done, +she stepped down to the water’s edge, and, pushing +the reedy vegetation on one side, filled the kettle. As +she rose from her task she looked out down the wide +inlet. The view was an enchanting one. The wooded +banks opposite her rose abruptly from the water, +overshadowing it, and throwing a black reflection +upon its still surface. There was not a breath of air +stirring; the world seemed wondrously still.</p> +<p>Away to the left the water widened out, and was +overhung by a haze of heat. She was about to turn +away when, from out of the distance, there appeared +another long boat. Instantly the girl was all attention. +This boat was not travelling in the same direction +as were those they had first seen, but was making +for the point where the others had appeared. She +had a much better view down here at the bank of +anything moving on the lake than from the higher +land, and she could not help being struck by the fact +that, whoever the occupants of the strange craft, they +were not Indians. One man was standing in the +stern steering the boat by the aid of a long paddle, +and this man was garbed in white-man’s attire. The +distance she was away from the object of her curiosity +prevented her distinguishing the features of these +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +people of the lake; but that which was apparent to +her was the fact that they were not fishermen, nor +was their boat a fishing-boat. It was long, and +built with the narrowness of a rice-lake canoe, and +so low in the water that its gunwale looked to be +within an inch of the glassy surface.</p> +<p>So intent was the girl upon this strange appearance +that she did not notice Prudence’s return, and as the +strange craft disappeared within the undergrowth of +the opposite shore, she turned with a start at the +sound of her friend’s voice beside her.</p> +<p>“Another boat,” asked Prudence, “or the one we +saw before?”</p> +<p>“Another.”</p> +<p>There was a silence; then the two turned away and +prepared their dinner.</p> +<p>They pitched their camp in the shade, and the meal +was quickly prepared. The smoke from their fire +helped to keep off the few late summer mosquitoes +that hummed drowsily upon the sultry air. Everything +was wonderfully peaceful and sleepy about +their little encampment. Not a leaf stirred or a +bough creaked; there was the stillness of death over +all. Gradually the silence communicated itself to +the girls, and the pauses in their chatter grew longer +and their eyes more thoughtful. Even their horses +for the most part stood idly by. The green grass +had but a passing attraction for them. They nibbled +at it occasionally, it is true, but with apparently +little appetite. After dinner the two friends spread +their saddle-blankets upon the grass, and stretched +themselves thereon in attitudes of comfort, from +which they could look out across the shining surface +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +of the lake; and soon their talk almost entirely +ceased. Then, for a while, they lay dreaming the time +away in happy waking dreams of the future.</p> +<p>Alice had bridged for a moment the miles which +divided Owl Hoot from Ainsley, and her thoughts +were with her sturdy lover, Robb Chillingwood. She +was contemplating their future together, that future +which would contain for them, if no great ease and +luxury, at least the happiness of a perfect love and +mutual assistance in times of trial. Her practical +mind did not permit her to gaze on visionary times +of prosperity and rises to position, but rather she +considered their present trifling income, and what they +two could do with it. Now and again she sighed, not +with any feeling of discontent, but merely at the +thought of her own inability to augment her future +husband’s resources. She was in a serious mood, +and pondered long upon these, to her, all-important +things.</p> +<p>Prudence’s thoughts were of a very different nature, +although she too was dreaming of the man whom +her sudden realization had brought so pronouncedly +into her life. Her round dark face was clouded +with a look of sore perplexity, and at first the +dominant note of her reflections was her blindness +to the real state of her own feelings. Now everything +was clear to her of the manner in which George +Iredale had steadily grown into her daily life, and +how her own friendly liking for him had already +ripened into something warmer. He was so quiet, so +undemonstrative, so good and kind. She saw now +how she had grown accustomed to look for and abide +by his decisions in matters which required more consideration +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +than she could give––matters which were +beyond her. She understood the strong, reliant +nature which underlaid the quiet exterior. And now, +when she came to think of it, in all the days of her +grown womanhood he had ever been near her, seeking +her society always. There was just that brief period +during which Leslie Grey had swayed her heart with +his tempestuous manner, for the rest it was Iredale. +She tried to shut him out; to contemplate his removal +from the round of her daily life. Instantly the picture +of that life lost its brightness and colouring, and her +world appeared to her a very dreary smudge of endless +toil. Yes, Alice had sounded the keynote, and +Prudence’s heart had responded with the chord in +sympathy. She knew now that she loved George +Iredale.</p> +<p>This realization was not wholly pleasurable, for +with it came a sudden grip of fear at her simple heart. +Her thoughts went back to some eight months before. +And she found herself again looking into the death-chamber +at the Leonville school-house. That scene +had no longer power to move her; at least not +in the way one might have expected. She no +longer loved the dead man; he had passed from her +thoughts as though she had never cared for him. +But a new feeling had sprung up in her heart which +the realization of this indifference had brought. +And this feeling filled her with an utter self-loathing. +She shuddered as she thought of her own heartlessness, +the shallow nature which was hers. She remembered +her feelings at that bedside as she listened to +the dying man’s last words. Worst of all, she remembered +how, in the paroxysm of her grief, she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +sworn to discover the murderer of Leslie Grey and +see justice administered. Now she asked herself, +What had she done? And the answer came in all its +callous significance––Nothing!</p> +<p>She roused herself; her face was very pale. Her +thoughts framed themselves into unspoken words.</p> +<p>“If this is the way I have fulfilled my promise to +the dead, if this is the extent and depth of my +love, then I am the most worthless woman on earth. +What surety can I give that my love for George +is a better thing than was my affection for Leslie +Grey?”</p> +<p>She sat herself up, she looked over at her companion +and noted the drooping eyelids. Her features +were strangely set, and her smooth forehead wore a +disfiguring frown. Then she spoke in a sharp tone +that startled the girl beside her.</p> +<p>“Alice, do you think it is possible to imagine you +are in love with a man––I mean, that you honestly +believe you love him at the time and really do not?”</p> +<p>Alice endeavoured to collect her wandering +thoughts.</p> +<p>“Why, yes, I suppose so. I’ve been in love with a +dozen men at one time and another, never longer +than a month with any one of them. I never go to a +dance but what I fall in love with at least two of +my partners, and my undying affection for both just +lasts the evening out. Imagination is strongly +developed in some people––when they’re young.”</p> +<p>“No, be serious.”</p> +<p>Alice gazed at the other curiously. Then––</p> +<p>“Out with it, Prue. What is it that’s troubling you? +Your face is significant of some dire tragedy.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></div> +<p>“How long have you been engaged to Robb +Chillingwood?”</p> +<p>“Nearly six months. Why?”</p> +<p>“And you’ve never thought of any other man?”</p> +<p>Alice shook her head. For once she was quite +serious.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t look at another man. Robb hasn’t +got two cents to his name, but I’m going to marry +him or––or––die an old maid.”</p> +<p>For a moment the expression of Prudence’s face +relaxed, but a moment later it set itself into more +stern lines than ever.</p> +<p>“Alice, you were right in what you said about +George,” she went on slowly. “I can hardly believe +it myself yet. Leslie Grey has only been dead eight +months, and yet here I am thinking all day long of +another man. I believe I am utterly heartless––worthless.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s just this. I am not worth an honest +man’s love. I used to think I worshipped the ground +poor Leslie walked on––I’m sure I loved him to distraction,” +the girl went on passionately. “Very well; +suppose George asked me to marry him and I consented. +In all probability, in the light of what has +gone before, I should be tired of him in a year, and +then––and then–––”</p> +<p>“You’re talking nonsense now, Prue,” said Alice. +She was alarmed at the other’s tone. The beautiful +face of her friend was quite pale, and sharp lines were +drawn about the mouth.</p> +<p>“I’m not talking nonsense,” the other went on in +a tense, bitter tone. “What I say is true. In less +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +than eight months I have forgotten the dead. I have +done nothing to discover the murderer who robbed +me of a husband and lover. I have simply forgotten––forgotten +him. Put yourself in my place––put +your Robb in Leslie’s place. What would you have +done?”</p> +<p>Alice thought seriously before she answered.</p> +<p>“I should never have rested until I had avenged +his death,” she said at last, and a hard glitter shone +in her eyes. Then a moment after she smiled. “But +it is different. I don’t think you really loved Leslie +Grey. You merely thought you did.”</p> +<p>“That only makes it worse,” the other retorted. +Prudence’s face was alight with inflexible resolve. +“My debt to the dead must be paid. I see it now +in a light in which it has never presented itself to +me before. I must prove myself to myself before––before–––” +She broke off, only to resume again with +a fierce and passionate earnestness of which Alice +had never believed her capable. “I can never marry +George Iredale with Leslie’s unavenged death upon +my conscience. I could never trust myself. George +may love me now; I believe I love him, but–––No, +Alice, I will never marry him until my duty to Leslie +Grey is fulfilled. This shall be my punishment for +my heartless forgetfulness.”</p> +<p>Alice surveyed her friend for some seconds without +speaking. Then she burst out into a scathing +protest––</p> +<p>“You are mad, Prue,––mad, mad, utterly mad. +You would throw away a life’s happiness for the mere +shadow of what you are pleased to consider a duty. +Worse, you would destroy a man’s happiness for a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +morbid phantasm. What can you do towards avenging +Leslie’s death? You hold no clue. What the +police have failed to fathom, how can you hope to +unravel? If I were a man, do you know what I’d do +to you? I’d take you by the shoulders and shake +you until that foolish head of yours threatened to part +company with your equally foolish body. You +should have thought of these things before, and not +now, when you realize how fond you are of George, +set about wrecking two healthy lives. Oh, Prue, you +are––are––a fool! And I can scarcely keep my +temper with you.” Alice paused for want of breath +and lack of vocabulary for vituperation. Prudence +was looking out across the water. Her expression +was quite unchanged. With all the warped illogicalness +of the feminine mind she had discovered the +path in which she considered her duty to lie, and +was resolved to follow it.</p> +<p>“I have a better clue than you suppose, Alice,” she +said thoughtfully, “the clue of his dying words. I +understood his reference to the Winnipeg <i>Free Press</i>. +That must be the means by which the murderer is +discovered. They were not horse-thieves who did him +to death. And I will tell you something else. The +notice in that paper to which he referred––you know––is +even now inserted at certain times. The man or +men who cause that notice to be inserted in the paper +were in some way responsible for his death.”</p> +<p>There was a moment’s pause. Then Alice spoke +quite calmly.</p> +<p>“Tell me, Prue, has George proposed yet?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” And Alice smiled broadly and turned her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +eyes towards the setting sun. When she spoke again +it was to draw attention to the time. As though by +common consent the matter which had been under +discussion was left in abeyance.</p> +<p>“It is time to be moving,” the girl said. “See, the +sun will be down in an hour. Let us have tea and +then we’ll saddle-up.”</p> +<p>Tea was prepared, and by the time the sun dipped +below the horizon the horses were re-saddled and all +was ready for the return journey. They set out for +home. Alice was in the cheeriest of spirits, but Prudence +was pre-occupied, even moody. That afternoon +spent in the peaceful wilds of the “back” +country had left its mark upon her. All her life––her +world––seemed suddenly to have changed. It +was as though this second coming of love to her had +brought with it the banking clouds of an approaching +storm. The two rode Indian fashion through the +woods, and neither spoke for a long time; then, at +last, it was Alice who ventured a protest.</p> +<p>“Where are you leading us to, Prue?” she asked. +“I am sure this is not the way we came.”</p> +<p>Prudence looked round; she seemed as though she +had only just awakened from some unpleasant +dream.</p> +<p>“Not the way?” she echoed. Then she drew her +horse up sharply. She was alert in an instant. “I’m +afraid you’re right, Al.” Then in a tone of perplexity, +“Where are we?”</p> +<p>Alice stared at her companion with an expression +of dismay.</p> +<p>“Oh, Prue, you’ve gone and lost us––and the sun +is already down.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div> +<p>Prudence gazed about her blankly for a few +moments, realizing only too well how truly her companion +had spoken. She had not the vaguest notion +of the way they had come. The forest was very +dark. The day-long twilight which reigned beneath +the green had darkened with the shadows of approaching +night. There was no opening in view +anywhere; there was nothing but the world of tree-trunks, +and, beneath their horses’ feet, the soft carpet +of rotting vegetation, whilst every moment the gloom +was deepening to darkness––a darkness blacker than +the blackest night.</p> +<p>“What shall we do?” asked Alice, in a tone of +horror. Then: “Shall we go back?”</p> +<p>Prudence shook her head. Her prairie instincts +were roused now.</p> +<p>“No; come along; give your mare her head. Our +horses will find the way.”</p> +<p>They touched the animals sharply, and, in response, +they moved forward unhesitatingly. The old mare +Alice was riding took the lead, and the journey was +continued. The gloom of the forest communicated +something of its depressing influence to the travellers. +There was no longer any attempt at talk. Each was +intent upon ascertaining their whereabouts and watching +the alert movements of the horses’ heads and ears. +The darkness had closed in in the forest with alarming +suddenness, and, in consequence, the progress was +slow; but, in spite of this, the assurance with which +the horses moved on brought confidence to the minds +of the two girls. Prudence was in no way disturbed. +Alice was not quite so calm. For an hour they +threaded their way through the endless maze of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +trees. They had climbed hills and descended into +valleys, but still no break in the dense foliage above. +They had just emerged from one hollow, deeper +and wider than the rest, and were slowly ascending +a steep hill. Prudence was suddenly struck by an +idea.</p> +<p>“Alice,” she said, “I believe we are heading for the +ranch. The valleys all run north and south hereabouts. +We are travelling westwards.”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” replied the other decidedly; “we shall +then be able to get on the right trail for home. This +is jolly miserable. O––oh!”</p> +<p>The girl’s exclamation was one of horror. A +screech-owl had just sent its dreadful note in melancholy +waves out upon the still night air. It started low, +almost pianissimo, rose with a hideous crescendo to +fortissimo, and then died away like the wail of a lost +soul. It came from just ahead of them and to the +right. Alice’s horse shied and danced nervously. +Prudence’s horse stood stock still. Then, as no +further sound came, they started forward again.</p> +<p>“My, but those owls are dreadful things,” said +Alice. “I believe I nearly fainted.”</p> +<p>“Come on,” said Prudence. “After all they are +only harmless owls.” Her consolatory words were as +much for the benefit of her own nerves as for those +of her friend.</p> +<p>The brow of the hill was passed and they began to +descend the other side. Suddenly they saw the +twinkling of stars ahead. Alice first caught sight of +the welcome clearing.</p> +<p>“An opening at last, Prue; now we shall find out +where we are.” A moment later she turned again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +“A light,” she said. “That must be the ranch. Quick, +come along.”</p> +<p>The blackness of the wood gave place to the starlit +darkness of the night. They were about to pass +out into the open when suddenly Alice’s horse came +to a frightened stand. For an instant the mare +swerved, then she reared and turned back whence +she had come. Prudence checked her horse and +looked for what had frightened the other animal.</p> +<p>A sight so weird presented itself that she suddenly +raised one hand to her face and covered her eyes in +nervous terror. Alice had regained the mastery of +her animal and now drew up alongside the other. She +looked, and the sharp catching of her breath told of +what she saw. Suddenly she gripped Prudence’s arm +and drew the girl’s hand from before her face.</p> +<p>“Keep quiet, Prue,” she whispered. “What is this +place?”</p> +<p>“The Owl Hoot graveyard. This is the Haunted +Hill.”</p> +<p>“And those?” Alice was pointing fearfully towards +the clearing.</p> +<p>“Are–––Oh, come away, I can’t stand it.”</p> +<p>But neither girl made a move to go. Their eyes +were fixed in a gaze of burning fascination upon the +scene before them. Dark, almost black, the surrounding +woods threw up in relief the clearing lit by the +stars. But even so the scene was indistinct and uncertain. +A low broken fence surrounded a small patch +of ground, in the middle of which stood a ruined +log-hut. Round the centre were scattered half-a-dozen +or more tumbled wooden crosses, planted each +in the centre of an elongated mound of earth. Here +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +and there a slab of stone marked the grave of some +dead-and-gone resident of Owl Hoot, and a few +shrubs had sprung up as though to further indicate +these obscure monuments. But it was not these +things which had filled the spectators with such +horror. It was the crowd of silent flitting figures +that seemed to come from out of one of the stone-marked +graves, and pass, in regular procession, in +amongst the ruins of the log-hut, and there disappear. +To the girls’ distorted fancy they seemed to be +shrouded human forms. Their faces were hidden by +reason of their heads being bent forward under the +pressure of some strange burden which rested on their +shoulders. Forty of these gruesome phantoms rose +from out of the ground and passed before their wildly-staring +eyes and disappeared amidst the ruins. Not +a sound was made by their swift-treading feet. They +seemed to float over the ground. Then all became +still again. Nothing moved, nor was there even the +rustle of a leaf upon the boughs above. The stars +twinkled brightly, and the calm of the night was undisturbed. +Alice’s grip fell from her companion’s +arm. Her horse reared and plunged, then, taking +the bit between its teeth, it set off down the hill in +the direction of Iredale’s house. The light which +had burned in one of the windows had suddenly gone +out, and there was nothing now to indicate the way, +but the mare made no mistake. Prudence gave her +horse its head and followed in hot pursuit.</p> +<p>Both animals came to a stand before the door of +the barn behind the house, where, to the girls’ joy, +they found the ferret-faced Chintz apparently awaiting +them.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></div> +<p>Alice was almost in a fainting condition, but +Prudence was more self-possessed. She merely told +the little man that they had lost their way, and asked +his assistance to guide them out of the valley to +where the trail to Loon Dyke Farm began. Such was +the unexpected ending of their picnic.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI_CANINE_VAGARIES' id='CHAPTER_XI_CANINE_VAGARIES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>CANINE VAGARIES</h3> +</div> +<p>The last stage of the girls’ journey––the ride home +from the ranch––was like some horrible nightmare. +It was as though recollection had suddenly turned +itself into a hideous, tangible form which was pursuing +them over the dark expanse of prairie. Even their +horses seemed to share something of their riders’ fears, +for their light springing stride never slackened during +that ten miles’ stretch, and they had to be literally +forced down to a walk to give them the necessary +“breathing.” Like their riders, the animals’ one idea +seemed to be to reach the security of the farm with all +possible dispatch.</p> +<p>The farm dogs heralded their approach, and when +the girls slid down from their saddles Hephzibah was +at the threshold waiting for them. The rest of the +evening was spent in recounting their adventures. +Hephzibah listened to their narrative, filled with superstitious +emotion whilst endeavouring to treat the +matter in what she deemed a practical, common-sense +manner. She was profoundly impressed. Hervey +was there, but chose to treat their story with uncompromising +incredulity. So little was he interested, +although he listened to what was said, as to rouse the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +indignation of both girls, and only his sudden departure +to bed saved a stormy ending to the scene.</p> +<p>It was not until the house was locked up, and +Prudence and Alice were preparing to retire––they +shared the same bedroom––that Hephzibah Malling +dropped her mask of common-sense and laid bare the +quaintly superstitious side of her character. The +good farm-wife had not lived on the prairie all her +life without contracting to the full the superstitions +which always come to those whose lives are spent in +such close communion with Nature. She could talk +freely with these two girls when no one else was +present. She had heard a hundred times the legends +pertaining to the obscure valley of Owl Hoot, but +this was the first time that she had heard the account +of these things from eye-witnesses.</p> +<p>She came into the girls’ bedroom arrayed in a red +flannel dressing-gown, which had shrunk considerably +under the stress of many washings, and her night-cap +with its long strings, white as driven snow, enveloped +her head like a miniature sun-bonnet. She came +with an excuse upon her lips, and seated herself in +a rigid rush-bottomed chair. Prudence was brushing +her hair and Alice was already in bed.</p> +<p>“My dears,” she said, as she plumped herself down; +she was addressing them both, but her round eyes +were turned upon Alice, who was sitting up in bed with +her hands clasped about her knees, “I’ve been thinking +that maybe we might ask young Mr. Chillingwood +out here. It’s quite a time since I’ve seen him. He +used to come frequent-like before––before––” with a +sharp glance over at her daughter, “a few months +back. He’s a good lad, and I thought as he’d make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +quite a companion for Hervey. An’ it ’ud do ’em a +deal of good to air them spare rooms. I’m sure +they’re smelling quite musty. What say?”</p> +<p>Alice blushed and Hephzibah’s old eyes twinkled +with pleasure. Prudence answered at once––</p> +<p>“That’s a good idea, mother, I’ll write to him at +once for you.” Then she turned her smiling face +upon the old lady and shook a forefinger at her. +“You’re an arch-plotter, lady mother. Look at Alice’s +face. That’s not sunburn, I know.”</p> +<p>“Maybe it isn’t––maybe it isn’t,” replied Mrs. +Malling, with a comfortable chuckle, whilst her fat +face was turned up towards a gorgeous wool-worked +text which hung directly over the head of the bed, +“though I’ll not say but what a day in the sun +like she’s just had mightn’t have redded the skin +some.”</p> +<p>“I am very sun-burnt,” said Alice consciously.</p> +<p>“Why, we’ve been in the forest, where there’s no +sun, nearly all day,” exclaimed Prudence quickly.</p> +<p>“Ah, them forests––them forests,” observed Hephzibah, +in a pensive tone of reflection. “Folks says +strange things about them forests.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” put in Alice, glad to turn attention from +herself, “usually folks talk a lot of nonsense when +they attribute supernatural things to certain places. +But for once they’re right, mother Hephzy; I shall +never disbelieve in ghosts again. Oh, the horror of +it––it was awful,” and the girl gave a shudder of +genuine horror.</p> +<p>“And could you see through ’em?” asked the old +lady, in a tone of suppressed excitement.</p> +<p>“No, mother,” chimed in Prudence, leaving the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +dressing-table and seating herself on the patchwork +coverlet of the bed. “They seemed quite––solid.”</p> +<p>“But they wore long robes,” said Alice.</p> +<p>“Did they now?” said Mrs. Malling, wagging her +head meaningly. “But the lore has it that spectres is +flimsy things as ye can see through––like the steam +from under the lid of a stewpan.”</p> +<p>“Ye––es,” said Alice thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“All I can say is, that I wonder George Iredale +can live beside that graveyard. I tell you, mother, +there’s no arguing away what we saw. They came +up out of one of those graves and marched in a +procession into the ruined dead-house,” said Prudence +seriously.</p> +<p>“And my mare nearly threw me in her fright.” +Alice’s face had paled at the recollection.</p> +<p>Hephzibah nodded complacently. She was thoroughly +enjoying herself.</p> +<p>“True––true. That’s just how ’tis. Animals has +an instinct that ain’t like to human. They sees more. +Now maybe your horses just stood of a tremble, +bimeby like? That’s how it mostly takes ’em.”</p> +<p>Under any other circumstances the two girls would +probably have laughed at the good lady’s appreciation +of the supposed facts. But their adventures were of +too recent a date; besides, they believed themselves. +The gloom of the forest seemed to have got into +their bones, and the horrid picture was still with +them.</p> +<p>“The Haunted Hill,” said Prudence musingly. “I +don’t think I ever heard in what way the valley was +haunted. Have you, mother?”</p> +<p>“Sakes alive, girl, yes. It’s the way you have said, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +with fantastic fixin’s added accordin’ to taste. That’s +how it come I never believed. Folks disagreed about +the spooks. They all allowed as the place was +haunted, but their notions wasn’t just alike. Your +poor father, child, was a man o’ sense, an’ he argued +as plain as a tie-post. He said there was fabrications +around that valley ’cause of the variating yarns, and +I wouldn’t gainsay him. But, as Sarah says, when +the washing don’t dry white there’s mostly a prairie +fire somewheres around. Your father was that set on +his point that he wouldn’t never go an’ see for himself, +although, I do say, I urged him to it for the sake of +truth.”</p> +<p>Prudence yawned significantly and Alice had +snuggled down on to her pillow. The former +clambered in beneath the clothes.</p> +<p>“Well, mother, all I can say is, that never again, +unless I am forced to, will I visit Owl Hoot. And +under any circumstances I will never run the risk of +getting benighted there.”</p> +<p>“Well, well,” said the farm-wife, rising heavily to +her feet and preparing to depart, “maybe George +would like to hear about the thing you’ve seen when +he comes back.” She paused on her way to the +door, and turned an earnest face upon the two +girls. “Say, children, you didn’t see no blue lights, +did ye?”</p> +<p>“No, mother Hephzy,” said Alice sleepily. “There +were no blue lights.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” in a tone of relief. “There’s no gainsaying +the blue lights. They’re bad. It means death, +children, death, does the blue light––sure.” And the +good lady passed out of the room with the shuffling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +gait which a pair of loose, heelless slippers contrived +to give her.</p> +<p>“Prue,” said Alice, when the door had closed, +“when are you going to ask Robb to come?”</p> +<p>“As soon as possible, if you like.”</p> +<p>“Thanks. Good-night, dear; mother Hephzy is a +sweet old thing.”</p> +<p>The two girls turned over, and in a few moments +were sleeping soundly. It would have taken more +than the recollections of their adventures to banish +sleep from their tired eyes. They slept the sweet +refreshing sleep of those who have passed their +waking hours in the strong, bracing air of the prairie.</p> +<p>Two days later Hervey was abroad early. He +was cleaning his guns outside the back door of the +house. Two weapons were lying upon a large dust +sheet which was spread out upon the ground. The +guns were in pieces, and each portion had been carefully +oiled and wiped. He was now devoting his +attention to a heavy revolver.</p> +<p>Prudence was standing in the kitchen doorway +watching her brother. Andy was over by the barn +superintending the dispatch of the teams to the +harvest fields; the hands were preparing to depart +to their work. Prudence’s early morning work was +in the creamery.</p> +<p>Hervey looked up from the weapon he was cleaning, +and turned his great eyes upon his sister.</p> +<p>“When is this fellow coming out here?” he asked +in a tone of irritation. His question was merely the +result of his own train of thought. He had not been +speaking of any one in particular.</p> +<p>“Who? Robb Chillingwood?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></div> +<p>“Yes, of course. I’ve not heard of any one else’s +coming.”</p> +<p>“We’ve asked him for a fortnight to-day. Why?”</p> +<p>Hervey ran the cleaning-rod through a couple of +the chambers of the pistol before he spoke again. +The rag jammed in the barrel and entailed a hard +pull to extract it.</p> +<p>“Who asked him to come?” he went on, as he +re-adjusted the piece of rag in the eye of the rod.</p> +<p>“Mother did. He’s a very nice fellow.” Prudence +looked over at the parade of “Shire” teams as they +started for the fields. “Alice and he are engaged to +be married, you know.”</p> +<p>“And I suppose he’s coming out here to ‘spoon’ +her––ugh! It’s sickening.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be so brutal,” the girl replied sharply.</p> +<p>“Brutal?” Hervey laughed coarsely. “You’re +getting particular. The house won’t be a fit place +to live in with an engaged couple in it. I should +have thought mother would have known better than +to have asked him.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be absurd.”</p> +<p>Prudence moved from her stand. The dog, Neche, +had slowly emerged from round the corner of the +barn, and was now mouching leisurely towards her. +She went over to meet him and caress his great ugly +head.</p> +<p>“I’m not absurd.” Hervey followed her movements +with no very friendly gaze. He hated with +an unreasonable hatred to see her go near the dog. +“I know what engaged couples are. Look at the +way some of the clowns around here carry on with +their girls. When Mr. Robb Chillingwood takes up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +his abode here, I shall depart, I tell you straight. +I think mother should have consulted me first. But, +there, I suppose that little vixen Alice arranged it +all. I hate that chum of yours.”</p> +<p>“There’s nothing like mutual regard, whatever +its quality,” laughed Prudence; but there was a look +of anger in her deep brown eyes. “You are at +liberty to please yourself as to your goings or +comings––they make no difference to the work of +the farm.”</p> +<p>The girl’s face was turned defiantly upon her +brother. Hervey spun the chambers of the pistol +round. His eyes remained upon the weapon, and +his forefinger pressed sharply upon the trigger. He +looked thoughtfully over the fore-sight and rested +the pistol in the crook of his upraised, bent left arm. +His attitude was one of taking steady aim. He +made no reply.</p> +<p>Suddenly Prudence felt the bristling of Neche’s +mane under her hand. And she sought to soothe +him. This dog’s displays of sudden temper were +as unaccountable as they were fierce.</p> +<p>“What are you going to do to-day?” she asked, +as her brother did not speak and the dog quietened.</p> +<p>“Going over to Iredale’s place. Why?”</p> +<p>“When shall you return?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know.” Hervey turned; his pistol was +pointing towards his sister.</p> +<p>“Well, what about the ‘thresher’? You and Andy +were going to get it–––Look out!”</p> +<p>Her exclamation came with a shriek. The great +husky had dashed from her side and made a charge +towards its master. Its lips were drawn up, and its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +fearful, bared fangs gleamed in the morning light. +Hervey lowered his weapon with a laugh. The dog +paused irresolute, then, with a wicked growl, it +turned back and sought again the girl’s caressing +hand.</p> +<p>“One of these days I’ll give you something to +snarl at, you d–––d cur,” Hervey said, between his +clenched teeth. Then he turned at the sound of his +mother’s voice. The old lady was standing in the +kitchen doorway.</p> +<p>“What’s all the fuss about?” she asked, turning +her round eyes from one to the other. “Quarrelling +again, I’ll be bound. Breakfast’s ready, so just come +in, both of you, or the ‘slap-jacks’ ’ll all be spoiled.”</p> +<p>Prudence glanced covertly in the dog’s direction +as she obeyed the summons. She was fearful that +the brute contemplated a further attack upon its +master. In spite of the constant bickerings which +took place between these two, the girl had no desire +that her brother should be hurt.</p> +<p>Hervey spoke not a word during the morning +meal, except to demand the food he required, and +his surliness had a damping effect on those about +him, and it was with a sigh of relief that his mother +at last rose from the table and began to gather the +plates preparatory to clearing away. Once, as Hervey +moved slowly towards the door to return to his guns, +she looked as though she were going to speak. But +the words died on her lips, and she ambled off to the +wash-house without speaking.</p> +<p>The atmosphere cleared when Hervey mounted +his horse and rode off. His mother looked after +him, sighed and shrugged; then she went on with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +her work with a touch of her old cheerful manner +about her. No complaint ever passed her lips, but, +to those who knew the kindly old face, the change +that had come over it was very apparent. The +smooth forehead was ploughed deeply with wrinkles +which were new to it, and the eyes had lost something +of their expression of placid content.</p> +<p>But Hervey travelled his own road at his own +gait. His thoughts he kept to himself. The man +was more or less inscrutable to those about him.</p> +<p>To-day he had taken his dog with him. He had +at length made up his mind to rid himself of the +brute. The exhibition of that morning had decided +him upon a course which he had long meditated, but +had always failed to carry out when the critical +moment arrived.</p> +<p>The hound limped along beside its master’s horse +as they plunged into the deep woods of the Owl +Hoot Valley. Nor did he show the least sign of +wishing to wander from “heel.” He followed on +the beaten track, stubbornly keeping pace with +the horse in spite of the fact of only possessing +three legs.</p> +<p>Arrived at the ranch Hervey handed over his +horse to Chintz and proceeded into the woods on +foot. To-day he meant to move out in a new +direction. The valley beyond the Haunted Hill +had been done regularly by him; now he was intent +upon the hills on the south. Access to this region +was obtained by the one other practicable exit from +the valley; namely, the Haunted Hill, and then by +bearing away to the right. He breasted the steep +slopes of the hill and soon came upon the narrow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +overgrown trail which at some period had been hewn +by the early settlers of the district.</p> +<p>Here he tramped along steadily, the hound limping +at his heels. He walked slowly, with that long, lazy +gait of a man accustomed to walking great distances. +He gave little heed to his surroundings as far as the +beauties of the place were concerned. He was not +the man to regard Nature’s handiwork in the light +of artistic effects. His great roving eyes were never +still; they moved swiftly from side to side, eagerly +watching for the indication of game either furred or +feathered. It seemed as though this sport was as +the breath of life to him. Now and again his gaze +would turn upon the hound behind him, and, on +these occasions, the movement was evidently the +result of some sudden, unpleasant thought, and +had nothing to do with the sportsman’s watchfulness +which makes him seek to discover, in the +alert canine attitude, some keener instinct of the +presence of game than is possessed by the human +being.</p> +<p>Almost without forewarning the road, after rounding +an abrupt bend, suddenly opened out on to the +graveyard clearing. It was the first time in Hervey’s +many wanderings in these regions that he had +actually come across this obscure little cemetery. +For a moment, as he gazed upon it, he hardly +realized what it was. Then, as he noted the ruined +hut in the middle, the wooden fencing broken and +tumbled about the place, and the armless and sadly +leaning crosses and the various-shaped slabs of stone +which marked the graves, he remembered the weird +story his sister and her friend had told, and, advancing, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +he leant upon one of the fence posts and looked +about him curiously.</p> +<p>He stood for some moments quite still. The place +was silent with the peaceful calm of a sweltering +August day. Hervey’s eyes moved from one vaguely +outlined grave to another, and unconsciously he +counted them. Thirteen graves in all were visible +amongst the long grass. Then his eyes turned upon +the ruined hut. The roof had fallen in, and broken +rafters protruded above the still standing walls of +pine logs. The casing of the doorway remained, but +the door had gone, and in its place hung a piece of +tattered sacking. There was one small window, but +this had been boarded over. The building was +largely covered with lichen, and weeds had grown +out of the mud-filling daubed in between the logs. +There was something very desolate but wondrously +peaceful about the place.</p> +<p>The master’s curiosity seemed to have communicated +itself to the hound, for the animal slowly, +and with uncertain tread, moved off within the enclosure. +Neche’s movements were furtive; strangely +so. But though Hervey’s eyes now followed the +dog’s actions, it was merely the result of the attraction +of the one moving object within the range of his +vision, and not with any purpose of his own. In +fact, it is doubtful if, at first, the animal’s movements +conveyed any meaning to the watching man. The +moments slipped away and the dog snuffed inquiringly +at the various curious objects its wolfish +eyes beheld.</p> +<p>It stretched out its neck across one grave and +snuffed at the projecting arm of a wooden cross. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +Then it drew back sharply with its little upstanding +ears twitching with a motion of attention and canine +uncertainty. Then the wolf head was turned in the +direction of its master, and its unblinking gaze was +fixed upon his face. The animal stood thus with +ears constantly moving, turning this way and that, +listening for any strange sound that might chance +upon the air. Then with a dignified movement, so +expressive of ill-concealed curiosity, it turned away +to continue investigations in other directions.</p> +<p>The dog’s show of indifference only lasted for a +moment. In limping towards the central hut the +animal stepped on to the only path which was not +overgrown with rank vegetation. The instant its +foot touched the sandy soil its head went down until +its nose touched the ground. Then followed a loud +snuff. The dog’s great mane bristled ominously, and +a low growl sounded significantly upon the still air. +Now Hervey’s gaze instantly became one of keen +intelligence. His thoughts no longer wandered, but +were of the present. He watched the movements of +the hound with the profoundest interest.</p> +<p>The dog moved a step or two forward. Its attitude +was as though it wished to make no mistake. +The snuffing came short, quick and incisive. Then +the great head was raised, and the snuffing continued +upon the air. Now the nose turned in the direction +of the hut, then it turned back to the opposite +direction of the path. Hervey remained motionless +where he stood, and his thoughts were filled with +wondering speculation.</p> +<p>Suddenly the dog darted off down the path, away +from the hut. There was something very like the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +sleuth in its attitude. Nor did it pause until the +path terminated at a stone-covered grave. Here the +brute’s eagerness was displayed to the full. Its +excitement was intense. The low growls became +more frequent and tense. The bristling mane, so +thick and wolfish, fairly quivered in its rigidity. +Balancing itself on its one hind foot it tore away +at the baked earth around the stone with its huge +fore-paws, as though it would tear up the whole +grave and lay bare the mouldering bones it contained.</p> +<p>Hervey encouraged the eager hound.</p> +<p>“See––ek ’em,” he hissed, in an undertone.</p> +<p>The dog responded, making the earth fly beneath +its sharp claws. The animal’s excitement had communicated +itself to its master, and the man’s great +eyes glowed strangely. He now moved from his +position and came over to the dog’s side. He +stooped down and examined the place where the +dog had been working. He pushed his fingers deep +into the hollow which the vigorous claws had made. +The next instant he drew them back sharply, and a +faint ejaculation escaped him. He straightened himself +up and pushed the dog roughly away from the +spot.</p> +<p>“Come here, you cur,” he muttered. “Come over +to the hut.”</p> +<p>The dog obeyed with reluctance, and Hervey had +to keep a clutch upon the beast’s mane to hold him +to his side. He half dragged him and half led him +up the path until they neared the ruin. Then with a +bound the dog leapt forward and rushed in beneath +the sacking which covered the doorway, giving tongue +to little yelps of eagerness as he went.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></div> +<p>Hervey was about to follow, but a strange sound +beneath his feet attracted him and made him pause. +He listened. The noise went on. It was very faint +but quite distinct, and very like the regular fall of a +hammer. He called instantly to the dog. Neche’s +head appeared from beneath the canvas, but he +showed unusual signs of disobedience. Instantly, +Hervey seized him by the mane, then, subdued and +sulky, the animal allowed himself to be dragged from +the building. Hervey did not relax his hold until he +and the dog were well clear of the place, and were +once more buried from view within the depths of +the woods.</p> +<p>For a moment, when the hound regained its freedom, +it stood still and turned its head back towards +the place they had just left, but a threatening command +from the man brought him to heel at once, and +there was no further bother. It was strange the relations +which existed between this curiously-assorted +pair. There could be no doubt that Hervey hated +the dog, and the dog’s regard for its master was of +doubtful quality. As a rule, it would fawn in a most +servile manner, but its attitude, the moment its +master’s back was turned, was always morose and +even truculent. Hervey had told his sister that the +dog was as treacherous as an Indian. But Hervey +was not a keen observer, or he would have added, +“and as wicked as a rattlesnake.”</p> +<p>The two tramped on all that day, but there was +little shooting done. Hervey also seemed to have +utterly forgotten his intention to shoot the dog. +Time after time jack-rabbits got up and dashed off +into the woods, but there followed no report of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +gun. Prairie chicken in the open glades whirred up +from the long succulent grass, but Hervey paid no +heed, and when several deer trotted across the man’s +path, and the gun remained tucked under his arm, it +plainly showed the pre-occupied state of his mind.</p> +<p>The truth was that Hervey was thinking with a +profundity that implied something which must very +nearly affect his personal interests. And these personal +interests, at the moment, centred round George +Iredale and––the graveyard. He had discredited +the story the girls had told as he would discredit +anything which pertained to the supernatural. But +now he had learned something which put an +entirely different meaning to the adventures the +two girls had related. It is easy enough to mystify +the simple human mind, but dogs’ instincts +are purely practical, and, as Hervey argued, ghosts +do not leave a hot scent. Neche had lit upon a hot +scent. At first the man had been doubtful as to +what that scent was. Graveyards on the prairie are +places favoured by the hungry coyote, and he had +been inclined to believe that such was the trail which +the dog had discovered. But his own investigations +had suggested something different.</p> +<p>The grave which the dog had attacked so furiously +was no ordinary grave, for, in thrusting his hand into +the hole the dog had made at the edge, he had found +that beneath the stone was a cavity. Then had come +the recollection of the faint pounding he had distinctly +heard beneath the ground. And instantly the story +the girls had related assumed a human aspect. Without +hesitation he told himself that they had not seen +spectres marching in procession through the mysterious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +graveyard, but real, live, human beings. What, +he asked himself, was the meaning of it? What +strange occupation was George Iredale’s in this lonely +valley? Where was Iredale now? Where did he go +to when he moved out of the district on business, +and what was the nature of the business? To +Hervey it was no great step from questions of this +sort to a general answer. And, when he reviewed +the isolation, the secret nightly doings, the unsuitability +of the district to cattle-raising, and the great +wealth of the owner, all made since his sojourn in +the country, it was no difficult task for his thoughts +to suggest some felonious undertaking. But the one +question for which he could find no reasonable reply +was that which asked the nature of the doings which +seemed to go on at night in the shadow of those +dense forests.</p> +<p>He tramped on heedless of the passing time. His +discovery had roused him to a pitch of excitement +which swayed his thoughts in the direction they +would naturally incline. In what manner could he +turn his discovery to account? His sense of proportion +quickly balanced his ideas. He must at all +costs learn the secret of the graveyard, and if it was, +as he believed, some “crooked” dealings upon which +Iredale was engaged, the rest would be easy. All he +wanted was money, and the owner of Lonely Ranch +had plenty and to spare.</p> +<p>The sun was quite low over the horizon when he at +length turned his steps again in the direction of the +ranch. He was hungry; he had eaten nothing since +breakfast.</p> +<p>Hervey was not the man to be disturbed by any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +scruples with regard to the hospitality of the owner +of Lonely Ranch. He partook of the ample supper +which Chintz had prepared for him without the +slightest compunction. And when it was finished he +idled the time away smoking one of Iredale’s best +cigars with the utmost enjoyment. He watched the +shadows grow and deepen. He waited until the blue +vault of the sky had changed its hue to the indescribable +shadow which follows in the wake of the +daylight, and the sparkling diamonds of night shone +out upon its surface; then he called for his horse and +set out ostensibly for Loon Dyke.</p> +<p>He rode away down the valley until he was clear +of the woods; then, leaving the prairie trail, he turned +away to the right, and, describing a wide semi-circle, +doubled back into the woods again, taking a course +which lay to the eastwards, parallel to the valley of +the ranch. Now he quickened his pace, and the +hound, limping laboriously at his horse’s heels, had +difficulty in keeping up with him. Nor did he draw +rein until he reached the wide hollow which backed +the graveyard hill. Here, however, he dismounted, +and secured his horse to a tree. Then he removed +the reins from his horse’s bridle, and proceeded to +secure the hound in an adjacent position. The night +had quite closed in and the darkness of the woods +was profound when he started to make his way up +the side of the hill in the direction of the graveyard.</p> +<p>Hervey paused for nothing. His mind was clearly +made up. Whatever weakness may have been his +there was none to be traced in his actions now. He +saw ahead of him the possibilities of furthering his +own interests, and he revelled in the thought of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +George Iredale’s wealth. The despicable methods +he was adopting troubled him not in the least. +Iredale should pay dearly if his work partook of the +nature of crime.</p> +<p>Hervey entertained no friendship for any one. +The greed of gold was his ruling passion. He cared +nothing from whom it was obtained, or by what +means. If things were as he believed them to be, +then was this a truly golden opportunity. And he +would bleed Iredale to the very limits of his resources.</p> +<p>He reached the outskirts of the clearing, but he +did not leave the obscurity of the forest. The black +recesses served him for a hiding-place from which he +could obtain a perfect view of the ghostly enclosure. +The tumbled hut and the weirdly-outlined graves +with their crowning monuments showed up distinctly +in the starlight. And he settled himself for a long vigil.</p> +<p>An hour passed without result. It was weary +work, this waiting. He dared not move about, for at +every movement of his feet upon the ground the +rotting vegetation crunched and crackled loudly in +the profundity of silence. The man’s patience, however, +was long-enduring under such circumstances. +He told himself that the result would more than +recompense him for the trouble. He had everything +to gain, and the task appealed to him. Two hours +passed and still not a sound broke the awful stillness. +Then came the first sign. Suddenly a bright light +shone out down in the valley in the direction where +Iredale’s house stood. It gleamed luridly, almost +red, in its depth of yellow. Hervey held his breath, +so deep was his excitement and the feeling of anticipation.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div> +<p>The sudden appearance of the light was the signal +for further demonstration. The prolonged screech of +an owl replied to it. The screech, so shrill and ear-piercing, +gave the watcher such a nerve-racking +moment as to almost urge him to beat a hasty retreat. +But the cry died away, and, as the echoes grew fainter +and eventually became silent, he recovered himself. +A moment passed and another cry split the air, only +this time it came from across the valley on the +opposite heights. Hervey stood with ears straining. +He had detected something curious in the sound of +those cries. Then as the second died away a single +word muttered below his breath voiced his discovery.</p> +<p>“Human!” he said to himself, and a feeling of +unholy joy swept over him, and he drew a pistol from +his pocket and his hand gripped its butt significantly.</p> +<p>His eyes were still turned in the direction of the +house where the light was burning when a scraping +noise suddenly drew his attention to the graveyard +before him. The scraping continued, and sounded +like the grinding of an axe upon a whetstone. It +distinctly came from one of the graves, and, for a +moment, he experienced a shudder of superstitious +fear. The next moment he suppressed a chuckle as +he realized that the sound came from the grave at +the side of which Neche had made such a demonstration +that morning. He gazed in the direction, his +great eyes burning with the lurid fires of pent-up +excitement and speculation. What was the secret he +was about to learn? He longed to draw closer to the +spot, but he knew that he dared not move.</p> +<p>Suddenly a vague shadow loomed up from +amongst the grass which grew so rankly in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +cemetery. Up, up it rose, black even against the +background of utter darkness in which the forest was +bathed. Hervey leaned forward, his eyes straining +and every nerve tense-drawn. What was this––thing?</p> +<p>The shadow paused. Then it rose higher. It +seemed to suddenly straighten up, and Hervey permitted +a deep breath to escape him. The black +figure had assumed the shape of a man, and the +form moved forward towards the log dead-house. +Then the waiting man saw that other figures were +following the first in rapid succession. Each figure +was bearing its burden. Some seemed to be carrying +bundles, some carried that which appeared to be +boxes, and others carried small square packages. +As Hervey’s eyes became used to the strange scene +he was able to distinguish something of the habiliments +of these denizens of the grave. He noted the +long, dark, smock-shaped garment each figure wore, +and, after a while, in the starlight, he was able to note +that most of them wore on their heads little skull-caps. +Then a muttered exclamation broke from his lips, +and in his tone was a world of satisfaction.</p> +<p>“Chinese!” he whispered. Then: “Traffic in +yellow, by all that’s holy!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII_THE_BREAKING_OF_THE_STORM' id='CHAPTER_XII_THE_BREAKING_OF_THE_STORM'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE BREAKING OF THE STORM</h3> +</div> +<p>The master of Lonely Ranch was seated before +the table in his unpretentious sitting-room. Before +him were piled a number of open account-books, and +books containing matters relating to the business of +his ranch.</p> +<p>He was not looking at them now, but sat gazing +at the blank wall in front of him with thoughtful, +introspective eyes. His chin was resting upon his +clenched hands, and his elbows were propped upon +the table. He was sitting with his shirt-sleeves +rolled up above his elbows, for the day was hot and +the air was close and heavy. On one hand the +window was wide open, but no jarring sounds came +in to disturb the thinker. The door on the other +side was also open wide. George Iredale showed +no desire for secrecy. His attitude was that of a +man who feels himself to be perfectly safe-guarded +against any sort of surprise. Thus he sat in the +quiet of the oppressive heat thinking of many things +which chiefly concerned his life in the valley of Owl +Hoot.</p> +<p>He had been going over the accounts which +represented his fifteen years of labour in that quiet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +corner of the great Dominion, and the perusal had +given him a world of satisfaction. Fifteen years ago +he had first settled in the valley. He had acquired +the land for a mere song; for no one would look +at the region of Owl Hoot as a district suitable +either for stock-raising or for the cultivation of +grain. But he had seen possibilities in the place––possibilities +which had since been realized even +beyond his expectations. His sense of humour was +tickled as he thought of the cattle he had first +brought to the ranch––a herd of old cows which he +had picked up cheap somewhere out West at the +foot of the Rockies. He almost laughed aloud as +he thought of the way in which he had fostered and +added to the weird, stupid legends of the place, +and how he had never failed to urge the undesirability +of his neighbourhood for any sort of agriculture. +And thus for fifteen years he had kept +the surrounding country clear of inquisitive settlers. +Life had been very pleasant, quiet, monotonous, and +profitable for him, and, as he thought of it all, his +eyes drooped again to his books before him, and +he gazed upon a sea of entries in a long, thick, +narrow volume which bore on the cover the legend––</p> +<p class='center'>OPIUM.</p> +<p>Yes, he never attempted to disguise from himself +the nature of his calling. He plastered neither +himself nor his trade with thick coatings of whitewash. +He knew what he was, and faced the offensive +title with perfect equanimity. He was a smuggler, +probably the largest operator in the illicit traffic of +opium smuggling, and the most successful importer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +of Chinese along the whole extent of the American +border. He knew that the penitentiary was yearning +for him; and he knew that every moment of +his life was shadowed by the threat of penal servitude. +And in the meantime he was storing up his wealth, +not in driblets, dependent upon the seasons for their +extent, but in huge sums which were proportionate +to the risks he was prepared to run.</p> +<p>And his risks had been many, and his escapes +narrow and frequent. But he had hitherto evaded +the law, and now the time had come when he +intended to throw it all up––to blot out at one +sweep the traces of those fifteen prosperous years, +and settle down to enjoy the proceeds of his toil.</p> +<p>It was only after much thought and after months +of deliberation that he had arrived at this decision. +For this man revelled in his calling with an enthusiasm +which was worthy of an honest object. +He was not a man whose natural inclinations leant +towards law-breaking; far from it. Outside of his +trade he lived a cleaner life than many a so-called +law-abiding citizen. The risks he ran, the excitement +of contraband trade had a fatal fascination +which was as the breath of life to him; a fascination +which, with all his strength of mind in every other +direction, he was as powerless to resist as were the +consumers powerless to resist the fascinations of the +drug he purveyed.</p> +<p>But now he stood face to face with a contingency +he had never taken into his considerations. He had +fallen a victim to man’s passion for a woman; and +he had been forced to a choice between the two +things. Either he must renounce all thoughts of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +Prudence Malling, or he must marry her, and break from +all his old associations. To a man of Iredale’s disposition +the two things were quite incompatible. The +steady growth of his love for this girl, a love which +absorbed all that was best in his deep, strong nature, +had weighed heavily in the balance; and, reluctant +though the master of Lonely Ranch was to sever +himself from the traffic which had afforded him so +much wealth, and so many years of real, living +moments, his decision had been taken with calm +deliberation; the fiat had gone forth. Henceforth +the traffic in yellow would know him no more.</p> +<p>He rose from his seat, and crossing the room +stood gazing out of the open window. Finally his +eyes were turned up towards the heavy banking of +storm-clouds which hovered low over the valley.</p> +<p>Already the greater portion of his plans had been +carefully laid. They had been costly for many +reasons. His agents were men who required to be +dealt with liberally. However, everything had been +satisfactorily settled. Now only remained the disposal +of the ranch. This was rather a delicate matter for +obvious reasons. He wished to effectually obliterate +all traces of the traffic he had carried on there.</p> +<p>He went back to the table and picked up an +official-looking letter. It was a communication from +Robb Chillingwood, written on the municipal notepaper +of Ainsley.</p> +<p>He read the letter carefully through.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>My dear Mr. Iredale</span>,”</p> +<p>“There is a man named Gordon Duffield +stopping at the hotel here, who has lately arrived +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +from Scotland. I have effected the sale of the +Dominion Ranch––you know, the German, Grieg’s, +old place––to him. He is a man of considerable +means, and is going in largely for stock-raising. He +has commissioned me to buy something like five +thousand head of cows and two-year-old steers for +him. His bulls he brought out with him. You will +understand the difficulty I shall have in obtaining +such a bunch of suitable animals; and I thought you +might have some surplus stock that you wish to +dispose of at a reasonable price. You might let me +know by return if such is the case, always bearing +in mind when you make your quotations that the +gentleman hails from old Scotia. There is shortly +to be a great boom in emigration from both the old +country and the States, and I am now combining the +business of land agent with my other duties, and I +find it a paying concern. Let me know about the +cattle at your earliest convenience.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Yours truly,<span class='rindent16'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Robb Chillingwood.</span>”<span class='rindent2'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Iredale smiled as he read the letter over.</p> +<p>“Comes at an opportune moment,” he said to +himself. “Surplus stock, eh? Well, I think I can +offer him all the stock he needs at a price which will +meet with the approval of even a canny Scot. I’ll +write him at once.”</p> +<p>He seated himself at his table and wrote a long +letter asking Chillingwood to come out and see him, +and, at the same time, offering to dispose of the stock +of Lonely Ranch. He sealed the letter, and then +returned his account-books to their hiding-place +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +behind the bookcase. Then he went to the door +and summoned his head man.</p> +<p>In spite of the habit of years, Iredale was not without +a strong sense of relief as he reviewed the +progress of the disestablishment of the ranch. He +remembered how narrowly he had escaped from +Leslie Grey less than a year ago, and now that he had +begun to burn his boats he was eager to get through +with the process.</p> +<p>The ferret-faced Chintz framed himself in the +doorway.</p> +<p>“My horse!” demanded his master. “And, Chintz, +I want you to take this letter to Lakeville and post it +with your own hands. You understand?”</p> +<p>The little man nodded his head.</p> +<p>“Good!” Iredale paused thoughtfully. “Chintz,” +he went on a moment later, “we’ve finished with +opium. We retire into private life from now out––you +and I. We are going to leave Owl Hoot. How +does that suit you?”</p> +<p>The little man cheerfully nodded, and twisted his +face into a squinting grimace intended for a pleasant +smile. Then his eyebrows went up inquiringly. +Iredale took his meaning at once.</p> +<p>“I don’t know where we are going as yet. But +you’ll go with me. I want you to remain my ‘head +man.’”</p> +<p>Chintz nodded. There could be no doubt from his +expression that he was devoted to his master.</p> +<p>“Right. Send my horse round at once. I am +going to Loon Dyke, and shall be back for supper.”</p> +<p>The man departed, and the rancher prepared for his +ride.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></div> +<p>When George Iredale set out for Loon Dyke the +valley was shrouded in the gloom of coming storm. +But he knew the peculiarities of the climate too well +to be alarmed. The storm, he judged, would not break +until nearly sundown, and then it would only be short +and sharp. In the meantime he would have reached +the farm. There was a curious, unconscious rapidity +in his way of settling up his affairs. It was as though +some strange power were urging him to haste. This +may have been the result of the man’s character, for +he was of a strikingly vigorous nature. He had +put the machinery in motion, and now he primed +it with the oil of eager desire to see the work swiftly +carried out.</p> +<p>As his horse galloped over the prairie––he took the +direct route of the crow’s flight––his thoughts centred +upon the object of his visit. He saw nothing of the +pleasant fields and pastures through which his journey +took him. The threat of coming storm was nothing +to him. For all heed he paid to it the sky might have +been of a tropical blue. The ruffling prairie chicken +rose lazily in their coveys, with their crops well filled +with the gleanings of the harvested wheat fields, but +he scarcely even saw them. All he saw was the sweet, +dark face of the girl to whom he intended to put the +question which women most love to hear; whether it +be put by the man of their choice or by some one for +whom they care not a cent. He had always longed +for this day to come, but, until now, had never seen +how such could ever dawn for him. It had been a +great wrench to sever himself from the past, but his +decision once taken his heart was filled with thankfulness, +and never had he felt so free from care as now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +He realized all that a lover may realize of his own +unworthiness, but he allowed himself no extravagances +of thought in this direction. Prudence was a good +woman, he knew, and he intended, if Fate so willed, +to devote the rest of his life to her happiness. As he +drew near to his destination his heart beat a shade +faster, and doubts began to assail him. He found +himself speculating upon his chances of success. He +believed that the daughter of Hephzibah Malling +regarded him with favour, but nothing had gone +before to give him any clue to her maiden feelings. +He wondered doubtfully, and, in proportion, his +nervousness increased.</p> +<p>Out upon the trail, at a distance, he saw a horseman +riding away from the farm; he did not even trouble +about the rider’s identity. The strong, reckless nature, +concealed beneath his quiet exterior, urged him on to +learn his fate. Nothing mattered to him now but his +sentence as pronounced by the child of the prairie +whose love he sought.</p> +<p>There were three occupants of the sitting-room at +the farm. Prudence and Alice Gordon were at the +table, which was covered by a litter of tweed dress +material and paper patterns. Prudence was struggling +with a maze of skirt-folds, under which a sewing-machine +was almost buried. Alice was cutting and +pinning and basting seams at the other end of the +table. Sarah Gurridge was standing beside the open +window watching the rising of the storm.</p> +<p>Conversation came spasmodically. The girls were +intent upon their work.</p> +<p>“It’s all very well to have new dresses,” said Prudence, +with an impatient tug at the material on which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +the machine was operating, “but I’m afraid half the +pleasure of them is absorbed by the process of ‘making.’ +Oh, these endless seams! And I don’t believe a single +one of them is straight. I feel quite hopeless.”</p> +<p>“Cheer up, Prue,” said Alice, without looking up. +She herself was endeavouring to set a wristband +pattern upon a piece of stuff so that she could get the +two bands out of barely enough cloth for one. “You +should use more dash when working a machine. +When you are turning it, imagine you are driving a +‘through mail’ to the coast and have to make up +time. The seams will come all right.”</p> +<p>“Yes; and break cotton and needles, and––and land +the engine over the side of a cut-bank, or run down a +gang of plate-layers or something. There now, I’ve +run clean off the cloth. I wish you wouldn’t talk so +much.”</p> +<p>The two girls laughed whilst they joined efforts in +righting the catastrophe.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it getting dark?” said Alice, when Prudence +had once more settled to work.</p> +<p>Sarah spoke without turning from the window.</p> +<p>“The storm’s banking, child. The lightning is +already flashing over Owl Hoot way. Hervey will +only just escape it.”</p> +<p>“What did he want to go over to the ranch for?” +asked Prudence. “He never seems to go anywhere +else now. I should think Mr. Iredale will get sick of +having him always round.”</p> +<p>“My dear,” observed Sarah, with unction, “when +two men enjoy destroying the harmless life which the +good God has set upon the prairie, they never tire of +one another’s society. Men who would disdain to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +black a pair of boots would not hesitate to crawl +about in the mud and damp reeds of a swamp at daybreak +to slaughter a few innocent ducks. There is +a bond amongst sportsmen which is stronger than all +the vows made at any altar. Hervey’s delight in +destroying life is almost inhuman. I trust he never +shoots sitting game.”</p> +<p>“I should hope not,” said Prudence. “I would +never own him as a brother if he did. Hello, Neche,” +as the door was pushed slowly open and the great +husky limped heavily into the room. The animal +looked round him in a dignified, unblinking way, and +then came over to Prudence’s side and leisurely curled +himself up on the skirt of her dress. “Say, old boy,” +she added, looking down at the recumbent form, “if +mother comes in and finds you here you’ll leave the +room hurriedly.”</p> +<p>Alice laid her scissors down and looked over at +her friend.</p> +<p>“Hervey seems quieter than ever lately. He won’t +even take the trouble to quarrel.”</p> +<p>“And a good thing too,” said Prudence shortly.</p> +<p>Sarah turned and surveyed the two girls for a +moment, an amused expression was in her dreamy +eyes. Then she turned back to the window as the +first distant growl of the coming storm made itself +heard.</p> +<p>“Hervey only quarrels when his mind is in a state +of stagnation. The mind of a man is very like a +pool of water. Let it stand, and it corrodes with +matter which throws off offensive odours. The +longer it stands the worse state it gets into. Set +the water in motion, turn it into a running stream, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +and it at once cleanses itself. Hervey’s mind has +been lately set in motion. I have noticed the change.”</p> +<p>“He has certainly become less offensive of late,” +said Alice. “I wonder what has changed him.”</p> +<p>“Food for mental occupation,” said Sarah.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘A life monotonous, unrelieved, breeds selfish discontent, +Dead’ning a mind to lofty thought for which by nature meant.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Prudence brought the machine to a standstill, and +propping one elbow upon the table rested her chin +upon her hand.</p> +<p>“I believe you are right, Aunt Sarah,” she said +slowly. “Hervey’s certainly found something which +has set him thinking. I rather fancy I know––or +can guess––what it is that has roused him.”</p> +<p>The old lady turned from the window and gazed +curiously at her pupil. She was keenly interested. +The recreation of her life was the observation of her +kind. Her logic and philosophy may not always +have been sound, but she never failed to arrive somewhere +in the region of the truth. The recent change +in Hervey had puzzled her.</p> +<p>“He asked me yesterday to let him see that notice +in the <i>Free Press</i> which appeared when Leslie was +murdered,” Prudence went on. “He also asked me +what Leslie’s dying words were. He insisted on the +exact words.”</p> +<p>“The storm will break soon,” observed Sarah. +She had turned away to the window.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” said Alice; “perhaps he has discovered–––” +She broke off meaningly.</p> +<p>“That’s what I think,” said Prudence.</p> +<p>Sarah shook her head; but what she meant to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +convey was uncertain, for she had her back turned +and she said nothing at the moment. Prudence restarted +her machine and Alice reluctantly bent over +her patterns. Sarah moved back from the window. +She saw a horseman galloping over the prairie in the +direction of the house. She had recognized Iredale.</p> +<p>“Girls,” she said, her soft eyes turning on Prudence’s +bent head, “I really think some one should be helping +the mother. This is baking day.” Prudence looked +up with an expression of contrition. “No––no, not +you, child. You stay here and get on with your +fandangles and dressmaking. I’ll go and help her.”</p> +<p>Without waiting for a reply she darted off. She +had no intention of having her innocent little scheme +upset. The moment after her departure the clatter +of horse’s hoofs came in through the open window. +Alice, looking up, saw Iredale dismounting from his +horse. She jumped up to go to the front door.</p> +<p>“Here’s Mr. Iredale!” she exclaimed. Then: “So +he’s returned home. I’m so glad. One scarcely +knows the place without him.”</p> +<p>She dashed out to meet him, and, a moment later, +returned ushering him in.</p> +<p>“Mr. George Iredale,” she announced, with mock +ceremony. Then she stood aside to allow him to +pass, bowing low as he entered the room. She stood +for a moment smiling upon the burly figure. She +noted how the plain features lit up at the sight of +the girl bending over the sewing-machine. Then she +gave herself an obvious cue.</p> +<p>“I’ll go and call mother Hephzy,” she said, and +retreated hastily to the bake-house.</p> +<p>Iredale moved over to where Prudence was sitting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +She had ceased work to greet him, but she did not +rise from the table. Neche surveyed the intruder, +grunted and closed his eyes again. Prudence was +half inclined to resent Alice’s sudden departure. +Alice was in her confidence; she knew her feelings +as regarded George Iredale. She considered her +friend’s action was unkind.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t let me disturb you, Prudence,” Iredale +said in his low, pleasant voice. “What is this”––fingering +the material––“a new fall dress? Wonderful +how you can cope with the intricacies of the manufacture +of such things. It would be a very sorry day +for me if I were left to cut my own coats.” He +laughed nervously.</p> +<p>Prudence detected an unusual eagerness in his voice, +and something warned her that this man had come +over that afternoon to see her alone. She joined in +the laugh, but her eyes remained quite serious.</p> +<p>“When did you come back from town?” she asked, +after a pause.</p> +<p>“I haven’t been to town. I’ve been across the +border. My business took me into Minnesota.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I thought you had been to Winnipeg.” She +stooped and caressed the great dog at her feet.</p> +<p>Iredale shook his head. A vivid flash of lightning +shot across the open window, and a crash of thunder +followed it immediately. The storm was breaking +at last.</p> +<p>“I’ll close the window.” Iredale moved across the +room to do so. Prudence looked after him. When +he returned he sat himself in Alice’s chair, having +brought it nearer to the machine. Then followed a +long silence while the machine rattled down a seam. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +The man watched the nimble fingers intently as they +guided the material under the needle. The bent +head prevented him seeing more than the barest +outline of the girl’s cheek, but he seemed content. +Now that the moment had arrived for him to speak, +he was quite master of himself.</p> +<p>“Prudence,” he began, at last, “I am giving up +my ranch. I have been making the necessary +arrangements. I have done with money-making.”</p> +<p>“Really.” The girl looked up sharply, then down +again at her work. She had encountered the steady +gaze of the man’s earnest eyes. “Are you going +to––to leave us?” She was conscious of the lameness +of her question.</p> +<p>“I don’t quite know. That depends largely upon +circumstances. I am certainly about to seek pleasant +places, but I cannot tell yet where those pleasant +places will be found. Perhaps you will help me.”</p> +<p>“How?” The seam swerved out into a great bow, +and Prudence was forced to go back over it.</p> +<p>“Easily enough, if you will.”</p> +<p>The girl did not answer, but busied herself with the +manipulation of her machine. Her face had paled, +and her heart was thumping in great pulsations. +Iredale went on. He had assumed his characteristic +composure. What fire burned beneath his calm +exterior, it would have needed the discerning eyes +of Sarah Gurridge to detect, for, beyond the occasional +flashing of his quiet grey eyes, there was little or no +outward sign.</p> +<p>“I have known you for a good many years, child; +years which have helped to put a few grey hairs on +my head, it is true, but still years which have taught +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +me something which I never dreamed of learning out +here on the prairie. They have taught me that such +a thing as love exists for every man on this earth, +and that somewhere in this world there is a woman +who can inspire him with feelings which make the +pettinesses of his own solitary existence seem very +small indeed. I have learned that man was not +made to live alone, but that a certain woman must +share his life with him, or that life is an utterly worthless +thing. I have learned that there is but one +woman in the world who can help me to the better, +loftier aspirations of man, and that woman is––you, +Prudence.”</p> +<p>The girl had ceased to work, and was staring +straight in front of her out of the window, where the +vivid lightning was now flashing incessantly. As +Iredale pronounced the last words she shook her head +slowly––almost helplessly. The man had leaned +forward in his chair, and his elbows rested on his +parted knees, and his hands were tightly clasped.</p> +<p>“Don’t shake your head, dear,” he went on, with +persuasive earnestness. “Hear me out first, and then +you shall give me your decision. I know I am much +older than you, but surely that disparity need not +stand in our way. I dare say I have many more +years of life yet left than lots of younger men. Besides, +I am rich––very rich. With me you can live the life +you choose. If you wish to stay here on the prairie, +why, you shall have the most perfect farm that money +can buy; if, on the other hand, you choose to see the +world, you only have to say the word. Prudence, I +know I am not a very attractive man. I have little +to recommend me, and my life has not always been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +spent as perhaps it should have been; but I love you +very dearly, and my future shall be devoted to your +happiness. Will you be my wife?”</p> +<p>There was a deafening crash of thunder which +seemed to come from directly overhead. The dog +started up with a growl. Then he stood looking up +into the girl’s face. The dying reverberations slowly +rolled away and left the room in deathly silence. +The serious light in the girl’s eyes was augmented by +the decided set of her mouth. She kept her face +studiously turned from Iredale, who, observing with +all the intuition of a man in deadly earnest, read in +her expression something of what his answer was +to be.</p> +<p>“Can you not––do you not care for me sufficiently?”</p> +<p>The words contained such a world of appeal that +Prudence felt herself forced to turn in his direction. +She now looked squarely into his eyes, nor was there +the faintest suspicion of embarrassment in her manner. +The moment had come when she must choose between +herself and her self-imposed duty. She knew that +she loved Iredale, but––she checked something which +sounded very like a sigh. She had listened to the +precepts of Sarah Gurridge all her life, and, in consequence, +she had learned to regard her duty before +all things. She now conceived she had a great duty +to perform. She felt so helpless––so feeble in the +matter; but the voice of conscience held her to her +mistaken course.</p> +<p>“I believe I love you; I am sure I care for you +very, very much, but–––”</p> +<p>“Then you will marry me.” The man reached out +to take her hand, but she drew it back. His eager +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +eyes shone in the stormy darkness in which the room +was bathed.</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>“When Leslie Grey was murdered I made a vow +that I would not rest until the murderer was brought +to justice. My vow is unfulfilled. I could not marry +you and be happy while this is so. Do you know +what marriage with you would mean? Simply that +I should make no effort to fulfil my vow to the dead. +I cannot marry you now.”</p> +<p>Iredale was staggered by the woeful wrong-mindedness +under which he considered she was labouring. +For a moment he could scarcely find words to express +himself.</p> +<p>“But––but surely, child, you are not going to let +this phantom of duty come between us? Oh, you +can never do such a thing! Besides, we would work +together; we would not leave a stone unturned to +discover the wretch who did him to death–––”</p> +<p>He broke off. Prudence answered swiftly, and the +set of her face seemed to grow harder as she felt the +difficulty of abiding by her resolve.</p> +<p>“This is no phantom of duty, George. It is very +much a reality. I cannot marry you––until––until–––”</p> +<p>Iredale was smiling now. The shock of the girl’s +strange decision had passed. He saw something of +the motive underlying it. Her sense of duty seemed +to have warped her judgment, and, with quiet firmness, +he meant to set it aside.</p> +<p>“And this is the only reason for refusing me?” he +asked. He had become serious again; he seemed +merely to be seeking assurance.</p> +<p>“Yes. Oh, George, can’t you see how it is?” She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +gazed appealingly into his face. And the man had +to keep a very tight hold upon his feelings.</p> +<p>“I am afraid I am a little dense, child,” he said +gravely.</p> +<p>“I must make you understand,” Prudence went +on with nervous haste. Her conscience urged her +forward, whilst her love prompted her to set aside all +recollection of the dead and to bask in the love this +man offered her. She was a simple, womanly soul, +trying with all the strength of her honest purpose to +resist the dictates of her love, and to do that which +seemed right in her own eyes. The task she had set +herself had seemed easy when she had spoken of it to +Alice, but now in the face of this man’s love, in the +face of her own self-realization, it seemed beyond her +strength. “Listen to me, and you will see for yourself +that I must not marry you––yet. I believed that +I loved Leslie Grey truly, fondly. As I look back +now I am sure I did. I was never happy but when +I was with him. He seemed so strong and resolute. +I never had a moment in which to doubt myself. +Then, when he died, the agony I suffered was something +too dreadful to contemplate. As he lay on the +little bed with his life slowly ebbing, and I watched +him dying by inches, I was filled with such horror and +despair that I thought surely I should go mad. Then +it dawned on me that he had been murdered, and my +anguish turned to a dreadful feeling of rage and longing +to avenge him. Never in my life did I experience +such terrible passion as at that moment. I believe at +the time I really was mad. The one thought in my +mind was, ‘Who––who has done this thing?’ Then +Leslie died, and in his death agony he spoke and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +told me, as well as his poor gasping faculties could +tell me, what had happened. His words were unintelligible +to every one except me. And those words +formed a clue to the assassin’s identity. By his bedside +I swore to avenge him. Never would I rest until +my oath was carried out. As you know, after that I +became ill and went away. And, oh, the shame of it, +during those months of rest and illness I forgot Leslie +Grey, I forgot my vow. I forgot everything that +claimed my duty. Think of it––the shame, the +shallow heartlessness, the fickle nature which is mine. +I, who had loved him as I believed no girl had ever +loved, had forgotten him as though he had never come +into my life.”</p> +<p>Iredale nodded comprehensively as the girl paused.</p> +<p>“Then you came into my life,” Prudence went on. +Her face was turned towards the window now, outside +of which she saw the tongues of lightning playing +across the sky. “Time went on, and slowly something +crept into my heart which made me realize my shortcomings. +Gradually my conduct was revealed to me +in its true colours, and I saw myself as I really was––a +heartless, worthless creature, so despicable, even to +myself, as to make me shudder when I contemplated +the future. Let me be honest now, at least. I knew +that I loved you, George, that is”––bitterly––“as far as +I was capable of love; but what sort of affection was +mine to give to anybody? I could not trust myself––I +despised myself. My conscience cried out. +Leslie’s unavenged death still remained. My vow +was still unfulfilled. Knowing this, how could I +believe in this new love which had come to me? No, +I could not. And it was then that I saw what I must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +do. Before I could ever dream of love I must redeem +the pledge I made at Leslie’s deathbed. That alone +could restore my faith in myself. I know that it is +almost impossible to convey to you all that I have +thought upon the matter; but, believe me, I can never +marry while Leslie remains unavenged.”</p> +<p>Tears stood in the girl’s eyes as she finished up +her curiously twisted self-accusations. And the +sincerity of her words was not to be doubted for +a moment. Iredale had listened wonderingly, and +he marvelled to himself at the wonders of perspective +in a woman’s mind.</p> +<p>“And you are prepared to undertake the matter––alone?”</p> +<p>“Mother is helping me––it costs money.”</p> +<p>“Just so. But would not a man’s help be of +greater importance than your mother’s? Don’t you +think that your husband’s assistance might help you +far more? That it might be able to lighten the +burden of this self-imposed labour. Tut, tut, child. +Because of your vow it should not deter you from +marriage, especially when your husband is not only +ready, but most willing to assist you in clearing +up the mystery, and avenging Leslie Grey. As +regards the quality”––with a quiet smile––“of your +regard, well, come, you love me, little girl, on +your own confession, and if you have no graver +scruples than you have offered, then you must––marry +me.”</p> +<p>Iredale leant forward and took the girl’s two hands +in his. This time she made no resistance. She +allowed them to rest in his broad palms, and, in spite +of all her protests, felt ineffably happy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></div> +<p>At last she drew them away and shook her head +weakly.</p> +<p>“No, it is no good, George. You must not be +burdened with my undertaking. I cannot consent +to such a thing. It is only your generosity and +kindness which make you look at the matter so +lightly. You would regret your decision later on, +and then–––No, mother and I will see the matter +through. We have already secured the services of +the smartest detective in Winnipeg, and he is working +upon the only clue we possess.”</p> +<p>“But I insist,” said Iredale, with a smile which +made his plain features almost handsome. “And, +Prue, I am going to tell your mother that you have +engaged yourself to me, and that I am a new recruit, +fortune as well, in the work. No––” holding up his +hand as the girl was about to protest again––“no +objections, sweetheart. And, before we go further, +tell me of this clue.”</p> +<p>Prudence smiled happily. She had done her duty; +she had laid bare her heart to this man. She had +spared herself in no way. She had let him see, she +told herself, the sort of girl she was. He still cared +for her; he still wished to marry her. She bowed +her will to his quiet decision.</p> +<p>“It is not much to go upon, but, as Deane, that +is the detective, says, it is a decided clue.”</p> +<p>She rose from her seat and walked over to a small +work-table. At that moment the house shook to its +very foundations with a dreadful crash of thunder. +Neche, who had moved with her, leapt fiercely at the +window as though flying at some invisible enemy. +The girl called him to her side, then she stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +trembling. Flash after flash of lightning blazed in +the heavens, and she covered her eyes with her hands, +whilst the thunder seemed as though it would rend +the earth from end to end. Iredale was at her side +in an instant, and his arm was about her, and he drew +her head upon his shoulder. Instantly her nerve +was restored, and, as the noise passed, she quietly +released herself. Then, stooping, she opened the +drawer of the table and produced a torn copy of the +Winnipeg <i>Free Press</i>. She held out the paper and +pointed to the personal column.</p> +<p>“See,” she said, with her index finger upon the +second line of the column. “‘Yellow booming––slump +in Grey.’ Those who are responsible for that +message, whatever it may mean, are also responsible +for Leslie’s death.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s eyes were fixed with a terrible fascination +upon the print. A breath escaped him which sounded +almost like a gasp. His hands clenched at his sides, +and he stood like one turned into stone.</p> +<p>“How––how do you know this?” he asked, in a +tense, hoarse voice.</p> +<p>“Leslie said so with his last dying breath.”</p> +<p>There came no answering word to the girl’s statement. +Iredale did not move. His eyes were still +upon the paper. The silence of death reigned in +the room. Even the storm seemed suddenly to have +ceased; only was there the incessant swish of the +torrential rain outside.</p> +<p>“That is the clue poor Leslie gave me.”</p> +<p>“Ah!”</p> +<p>“What do you think?”</p> +<p>“You must give me time to think.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span></div> +<p>Iredale’s mouth was parched. His voice sounded +strange in his own ears. For the moment he could +scarcely realize his position. An overwhelming +horror was upon him. Suddenly he turned.</p> +<p>“What is the date of that paper?”</p> +<p>“A few days before Leslie’s death. But this notice +has appeared many times since––which will make +our task the easier.”</p> +<p>“Yes, it will make our task the easier.”</p> +<p>Another pause, which was protracted until the +silence could almost be felt. Then Prudence spoke.</p> +<p>“You will stay to tea?”</p> +<p>Iredale pulled himself together.</p> +<p>“No, I think not. The storm has passed, the rain +is ceasing. I had better hurry back home. It will +come back on us––the storm, I mean.”</p> +<p>The girl looked out of the window.</p> +<p>“Yes, I think it will. Oh, I forgot to tell you. +Hervey went over to see you this afternoon.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s eyes turned sharply upon the girl.</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, I will go at once. I will call to-morrow +and see Mrs. Malling. Good-bye.”</p> +<p>He turned away and abruptly left the room. +Prudence looked after him. She saw him pass out; +she saw him go out by the front door and hurry +down the little path which bisected the front garden. +She saw him go round to the stables, and he seemed +not to heed the rain which was still falling lightly. +But it was not until she saw him riding away down +the trail that she realized the suddenness of his departure +and the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to +kiss her.</p> +<p>Iredale’s horse received little consideration at its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +master’s hands on that homeward journey. The +animal was ridden almost at racing pace over the +long ten miles of country. And all the way home +the words the girl had spoken were running in his +ears with maddening insistence––</p> +<p>“And when we find the author of those words we +find his murderer.”</p> +<p>She had virtually accused him of murder. For he +alone was the author of those words in the paper. +Truly his sins were finding him out.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII_BLACKMAIL' id='CHAPTER_XIII_BLACKMAIL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>BLACKMAIL</h3> +</div> +<p>As Hervey entered the valley of the ranch he +listened for the warning owl cries. To-day, however, +there were none. He smiled to himself as he noted +the fact, for he knew their origin; he knew their +object. He understood that these cries were the +alarm of sentries stationed at certain points to warn +those at the ranch of the approach of strangers. He +knew, too, that they were used as signals for other +things. And he admired the ingenuity of Iredale +in thus turning the natural features of the valley to +his own uses. Rain was beginning to fall in great +drops, and the thunder of the rising storm had already +made itself heard. He urged his horse forward.</p> +<p>Few men can embark on a mission of hazard or +roguery without some feelings of trepidation. And +Hervey was no exception to the rule. He experienced +a feeling of pleasurable excitement and anticipation. +There was sufficient uncertainty in his mission to +make him think hard and review his powers of attack +with great regard for detail. There must be no loophole +of escape for his victim.</p> +<p>On the whole he was well satisfied. But he was +not unprepared for failure. During his acquaintance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +with Iredale he had learned that the master of Lonely +Ranch was not easily trifled with, neither was he the +man to accept a tight situation without making a hot +fight for it. It was just these things which gave +Hervey the gentle qualms of excitement as he +meditated upon the object of his journey. He +thought of the large sums of money he had borrowed +from this man, and the ease with which they had been +obtained. He remembered the kindly ways and +gentle manner of this reserved man, and somehow he +could not get away from the thought of the velvet +glove.</p> +<p>But even as he thought of it he laughed. There +was no getting away from the facts he possessed, and +if it came to anything in the shape of physical +resistance, well, he was not unprepared. There was +a comfortable feeling about the heavy jolt of the six-chambered +“lawyer” in his pocket.</p> +<p>The valley seemed much more lonely than usual. +The horrid screeching of the watchful sentries would +almost have been welcome to him. The forest was +so dark and still. Even the falling raindrops and the +deep rolling thunder had no power to give the place +any suggestion of life. There was a mournful tone +over everything that caused the rider to glance about +him furtively, and wish for a gleam of the prairie +sunlight.</p> +<p>At length he drew up at the house. There was +no one about. A few cattle were calmly reposing in +the corrals. There was not even the sharp bark of a +dog to announce his arrival. As Hervey drew up +he looked to see Iredale come to the door, for he +knew the rancher had returned from his wanderings; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +but the front door remained shut, and, although the +window of the sitting-room was wide open, there was +no sign of any occupant within the room. He +dismounted and stood thinking for a moment. Then +he raised his voice and called to Chintz.</p> +<p>His summons was repeated before the man’s ferret +face appeared round a corner of the building. The +little fellow advanced with no show of alacrity. +Iredale had told him nothing about any expected +visitor. He was not quite sure what to do.</p> +<p>By dint of many questions and replies, which took +the form of nods and shakes of the head on the part +of Chintz, Hervey learnt that Iredale had gone over +to Loon Dyke, but that he would be back to supper.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll wait for him,” he said decidedly. “You +can take my horse. I’ll go inside.”</p> +<p>The head man took the horse reluctantly and +Hervey passed into the house.</p> +<p>For a long time he stood at the open window +watching the storm. How it raged over the valley! +The rain came down in one steady, hissing deluge, +and the hills echoed and re-echoed with the crashing +thunder. The blinding lightning shot athwart the +lowering sky till the nerves of the watcher fairly +jumped at each successive flash. And he realized +what a blessing the deluge of rain was in that world +of resinous timber. What might have been the +consequences had the storm preceded the rain? +Hardened as he was to such things, even Hervey +shuddered to think.</p> +<p>Wild as was the outlook, the waiting man’s thoughts +were in keeping with his surroundings, for more +relentless they could not well have been. Iredale’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +money-bags should surely be opened for him that +night before he returned home. He would levy a +heavy toll for his silence.</p> +<p>His great dark eyes, so indicative of the unrestrained +nature which was his, burned with deep, cruel fires +as he gazed out upon the scene. There was a +profoundness, a capacity for hellishness in their +expression which scarcely belonged to a sanely-balanced +mind. It was inconceivable that he could +be of the same flesh and blood as his sister, and yet +there was no doubt about it. Perhaps some unusually +sagacious observer would have been less hard to +convince. Hervey was bad, bad all through. Prudence +was good. Swayed by emotion the girl might +have displayed some strange, hidden, unsuspected +passionate depths, as witness her feelings at her dying +lover’s bedside. Her rage at the moment when she +realized that he had been murdered was indescribable. +The hysterical sweep of passion which had moved her +at that moment had been capable of tragic impulse, +the consequences of which one could hardly have +estimated. But her nature was thoroughly good. +Under some sudden stress of emotion, which for the +moment upset the balance of reason, a faint resemblance +to the brother might be obtained. But +while Hervey’s motives would be bad, hers would +have for their primary cause a purpose based upon +righteousness. The man needed no incentive to sway +his dispositions. He had let go his hold upon the +saving rock, now he floated willingly upon the tide of +his evil disposition. He preferred the broad road to +Hell to the narrow path of Righteousness. It may +not always have been so.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></div> +<p>The storm abated with the suddenness of its kind. +During Hervey’s long wait Chintz did not leave him +entirely alone. Several times, on some trivial pretext +the little man visited the sitting-room. And his +object was plainly to keep an eye upon his master’s +unbidden guest. At last there came a clatter of +galloping hoofs splashing through the underlay of +the forest, and presently Iredale pulled up at the +door.</p> +<p>Hervey watched the rancher dismount. And his +survey was in the nature of taking the man’s moral +measure. He looked at the familiar features which +he had come to know so well; the easy, confident +movements which usually characterized Iredale; the +steady glance, the quiet undisturbed expression of +his strong face. The watching man saw nothing +unusual in his appearance, nothing to give him any +clue; but Hervey was not a keen observer. Only +the most apparent change would have been seen by +him; the subtler indications of a disturbed mind were +beyond his ken. Iredale seemed to be merely the +Iredale he knew, and as he watched his lips parted +with a sucking sound such as the gourmand might +make in contemplating a succulent dish.</p> +<p>Iredale came in. Hervey met him at the door of +the sitting-room, and his greeting was cordial, even +effusive.</p> +<p>“How are you, George? I knew you were to be +back to-day. Jolly glad you’ve returned. Quite +missed you, you know. By Jove! what a storm. +Wet?”</p> +<p>“A bit; nothing to speak of. They told me at +the farm you were over here.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div> +<p>Iredale looked quickly round the room. His survey +was not lost upon his visitor. Then he went on––</p> +<p>“Chintz looked after you? Had any refreshment? +Whisky?”</p> +<p>“Chintz looked after me! He looked in every now +and then to see what I was doing.” Hervey laughed +unpleasantly. “Yes, I can do with a gentle ‘four-fingers’; +thanks.”</p> +<p>Iredale produced a decanter and glasses and a +carafe of water. Then he excused himself while he +went to change his clothes. While he was gone +Hervey helped himself to a liberal measure of the +spirit. He felt that it would be beneficial just then. +His host’s unconcerned manner was a little disconcerting. +The rancher seemed much harder to tackle +when he was present.</p> +<p>Presently Iredale returned, and, seating himself in +a deck-chair, produced a pipe, and pushed his tobacco +jar over to his visitor. He was wondering what +Hervey had come over for. He had no wish for his +company just then. He had hoped to spend this +evening alone. His mind was still in a state of +feverish turmoil. However, he decided that he would +get rid of the man as quickly as the laws of hospitality +would allow.</p> +<p>A silence fell whilst the rancher waited to hear the +object of the visit. The other refused to smoke, but +Iredale lit his pipe and smoked solemnly. His face +was, if possible, more serious than usual. His eyes +he kept half veiled. Hervey cast about in his mind +for the opening of his attack. He seated himself on +the edge of the table and looked out of the window. +He raised his eyes to the leaden sky, then he withdrew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +his gaze and looked upon the floor. He swung one +leg to and fro, as he leant sideways and supported his +attitude with a hand resting upon the table. At +length, as the silence continued, and Iredale presently +raised his eyes and stared straight at him, he +turned to the decanter and helped himself to another +drink. Then he set his glass down with a heavy +hand.</p> +<p>“Good tack, that,” he observed. “By the bye, where +have all your owls departed to? Are they like the +ducks, merely come, pause, and proceed on their +migratory way? Or perhaps”––with a leer––“they only +stand on sentry in the valley when––when you require +them to.”</p> +<p>Iredale permitted the suspicion of a smile. But +there was no geniality in it; on the contrary, it was +the movement of his facial muscles alone. Hervey +had touched upon delicate ground.</p> +<p>“Did they not welcome you with their wonted +acclamation?” he asked, removing his pipe from his +lips, and gently pressing the ash down into the bowl +with his finger-tip.</p> +<p>The other grinned significantly. He had plunged, +and now he felt that things were easier. Besides, +the spirit had warmed him.</p> +<p>“That’s a real good game you play, George, old +man. The imitation is excellent. I was deceived +entirely by it. It was only the other night that I +learned that those fearful screech-owls were human. +Most ingenious on your part. You are well served.”</p> +<p>Iredale never moved. He smoked quite calmly. +His legs were crossed and the smile still remained +about his mouth. Only his eyes changed their expression, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +but this was lost upon Hervey, for they were +half closed.</p> +<p>“I don’t think I quite understand. Will you explain?” +The rancher spoke very deliberately, his +voice was well modulated but cold.</p> +<p>Hervey laughed boisterously to cover a slight +nervousness. This attitude of Iredale’s was embarrassing. +He had anticipated something different.</p> +<p>“Is there any need of explanation?” he asked, +when his forced hilarity had abruptly terminated. +“The only thing which puzzles me is that you’ve +kept it up so long without being discovered.”</p> +<p>There was a long pause. Then Iredale removed +his pipe from his mouth, knocked it out upon the +heel of his boot, and returned it to his pocket. Then +he rose from his seat and stood squarely before the +other.</p> +<p>“Don’t let us beat about the bush,” he said. “I +think plain speaking is best––in some cases. Now, +what have you to say?”</p> +<p>Hervey shrugged his shoulders. His dark eyes +avoided the other’s gaze; the steely flash in Iredale’s +grey eyes was hard to confront.</p> +<p>“A good deal,” he said, with raucous intonation. +“The smuggling of Chinese and consequently opium +is a profitable trade. There’s room for more than one +in it.”</p> +<p>“Go on.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s tone was icy.</p> +<p>“Of course I am not the man to blow a gaff like +this. There’s too much money in it, especially when +worked on extensive lines, and when one is possessed +of such an ideal spot as this from which to operate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +That was a positive stroke of genius of yours in +selecting the graveyard as a hiding-place. I suppose +now that place is honeycombed with cellars for the +storage of––of––yellow. Must be, from the number of +‘yellow-devils’ I saw come out of the grave the other +night. My, but you’re slick, Iredale; slick as paint. +I admire you immensely. Who’d have thought of +such a thing? I tell you what, you were never intended +for anything but defeating the law, George, +my boy. We could do a lot together. I suppose +you aren’t looking for a partner?”</p> +<p>Iredale’s face wore an almost genial expression as +he replied. The rancher’s tones were so cordial that +Hervey congratulated himself upon the manner in +which he had approached the subject.</p> +<p>“Well, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t,” he said. +“As a matter of fact, you must have seen me despatching +my last cargo of––yellow. Why? Were +you thinking of starting in the business?”</p> +<p>“That <i>is</i> my intention.”</p> +<p>“Is?”</p> +<p>“Yes, is.” Hervey’s tone was emphatic, and his +attitude truculent.</p> +<p>“Ah! are you prepared to buy this place?” Iredale +went on. “I can easily hand you over my connection.”</p> +<p>“Buy?” Hervey thought this man was dense. +“Why, I haven’t two cents to my name to buy +anything with. No, I don’t think there will be any +buying and selling between us, George Iredale.”</p> +<p>“Then what do you propose? We may as well +come to a definite arrangement.”</p> +<p>The rancher’s tone was peculiar.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></div> +<p>“We’ll run this thing for all it’s worth. Hang to +it as long as there’s a cent to be made.”</p> +<p>Hervey helped himself to more whisky. His self-satisfaction +was immense. He had not thought that +Iredale would have been so easy to handle.</p> +<p>“Um. A very nice, comfortable arrangement––for +you.” Iredale moistened his lips slowly. “You’ll sup +the juice while I squeeze the orange for you. No, +friend Hervey, I’m not dealing.”</p> +<p>“But you must!”</p> +<p>“Must?”</p> +<p>“Yes; don’t be a fool. It means more money to +you, and I shall share in the profits.”</p> +<p>“If I wanted to make more money I could continue +in the business alone. I am not here to make +money for you.”</p> +<p>Iredale stared straight into the face before him. +His grey eyes seemed to pierce through and through +his companion. Hervey moved from his position. +Iredale’s attitude was coldly uncompromising.</p> +<p>“Then you refuse my offer?”</p> +<p>“Most emphatically.”</p> +<p>Hervey was inclined to show his teeth. However, he +checked the impulse and spoke in a conciliating tone.</p> +<p>“There is another alternative. Your fortune is +very large. I want fifty thousand dollars.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s face relaxed into a genuine smile.</p> +<p>“Your demands are too modest,” he said ironically, +“Anything else?”</p> +<p>The other’s eyes looked dangerous. The lurid +depths were beginning to glow.</p> +<p>“The money I am going to have before I leave +here to-night.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></div> +<p>“Ah! blackmail. I thought so.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s contempt was biting.</p> +<p>“Call it what you like, Mr. George Iredale. I tell +you this, you are in my power and you will have to +buy my silence. You like plain speaking; and now +you’ve got it. Refuse compliance, and I leave here to +expose you.”</p> +<p>“Pooh,” said Iredale, leisurely turning to the window. +“Do you think I’m a babe? How are you going to +prove your charge? Why, you must be the veriest +simpleton to think I am unprepared. By the time +you can bring the law about me there will not remain +a trace of––my work. You can never bring your +charge home.”</p> +<p>“Ah, you think not.” Hervey’s words sounded like +a snarl. The whisky he had drunk had worked him +to a proper pitch. He had not done yet. His next +shot was to be a long one and a bold one, and he was +not sure where it would hit. He was not sure that it +might not rebound and––but his was the nature +which makes for success or disaster without a second +thought. For him there was no middle course. His +temperament was volcanic and his actions were largely +governed by the passionate nature which was his. +Iredale had not turned from the window, or he would +have seen the evil working of that face. His own +great, broad shoulders were set squarely before +Hervey’s gaze, and the uncompromising attitude only +added fuel to the latter’s already superheated feelings. +“Perhaps you might find it interesting to know that +they are hot upon the trail of the man who shot +Leslie Grey.”</p> +<p>Iredale swung round like a flash. Nor were the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +storm-clouds which but now frowned in the heavens +more black than the expression of his face.</p> +<p>“You miserable hound!” he cried, his eyes sparkling, +and his jaw muscles fairly quivering with the +force of his clenching teeth. “What hellish crime +would you attempt to fix on me now?”</p> +<p>Hervey grinned with all the ferocity of a tiger.</p> +<p>“I wish to fix no crime on you. I merely mention +a fact. Leslie Grey was the only accuser of his +murderer. He stated before he died that the man +who inserted the notice in the paper which ran, +‘Yellow booming––slump in Grey,’ was the man who +murdered him. I suppose you don’t happen to know +who was responsible for that enigmatical line? You +did not inspire it?”</p> +<p>The look that accompanied the man’s words was +fiendish. The great eyes shone with a savage light +They expressed a hatred which no words could +describe. Iredale’s hands clenched and unclenched. +His fingers seemed as though they were clutching at +something which they longed to tear to atoms, and +his thoughts centred upon the man before him.</p> +<p>Twice that day he had heard this challenge. Once +uttered in all unconsciousness of its significance, but +now with hideous meaning. His powers of self-restraint +were great, but he had reached their limit. +This man had accused him of a dastardly murder. +Suddenly his voice rang out through the room like +the bellow of a maddened bull. His great figure +quivered with the fury of his passion. Hervey had +done his worst; now he shrank before the storm he +had provoked.</p> +<p>“Out of my house, you scum!” Iredale roared.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span></div> +<p>“God! but if you stay here an instant longer, I’ll +smash you as I would a louse.”</p> +<p>The rancher stood panting at the door. His flashing +eyes never left the face of the man before him. +Hervey moved; he hesitated. The grin had left his +face and a look of dread had replaced it. Then he +moved on, forgetful of all but his moral and physical +fear of the commanding figure of enraged manhood +that seemed to tower over him. He even forgot the +weapon which lay concealed in his pocket. He slunk +on out of the door amidst a profound silence, out into +the soft twilight of the valley.</p> +<p>The door stood open; the window stood open. +Iredale looked after him. He watched the tall, drooping +figure; then, as Hervey passed from view, Iredale +turned back and flung himself into his chair, and his +laugh sounded through the stillness of the room.</p> +<p>But there was no mirth in that laugh. It was like +the hysterical laugh of a man whose nerves are +strained to breaking tension.</p> +<p>He knew he had made a terrible mistake. His +rage had placed a deadly weapon in his enemy’s +hands. He had practically admitted his authorship +of the notice in the Winnipeg paper. What would +be the result? he asked himself. Again that strained +laugh sounded through the room.</p> +<p>As Hervey rode away from the valley his fear +of George Iredale fell from him as might a cloak. +His face wore full expression of the evil in his +heart.</p> +<p>He, too, laughed; but his laugh was an expression +of triumph.</p> +<p>“You’re less clever than I thought, George Iredale,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +he muttered. “You would have done better to have +bought my silence. Now I can sell my discovery +elsewhere. Money I want, and money I mean to +have.”</p> +<p>But he spurred his horse on as an anxious thought +came to him.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV_A_STAB_IN_THE_DARK' id='CHAPTER_XIV_A_STAB_IN_THE_DARK'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>A STAB IN THE DARK</h3> +</div> +<p>Mrs. Malling fumbled her glasses out of her +pocket and adjusted them on her nose. She had +paused in her work to receive her letters, which had +just been brought from Lakeville. The girls stood +by waiting to learn the news.</p> +<p>The summer kitchen was stifling hot. The great +cook-stove, throwing off a fearful heat, helped to +heighten the brilliancy of the farm-wife’s complexion, +and brought beads of perspiration out upon her +forehead. Prudence and Alice looked cool beside +“Mother Hephzy,” but then they were never allowed +to do any work in the kitchen. Mrs. Malling loved +her kitchen better than any part of the house. She +had always reigned supreme there, and as long as she +could work such would always be the case.</p> +<p>Now she was preparing the midday meal for the +threshing gang which was at work in the fields. +Great blocked-tin canteens stood about upon the floor +waiting to receive the hot food which was to be sent +down to the workers. Hephzibah was a woman of +generous instincts where the inner man was concerned. +The wages she paid were always board wages, but no +hired man was ever allowed to work for her and pay +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +for his keep. She invariably insisted that every +labourer should be fed from her kitchen, and she took +care that his food was the best she could provide.</p> +<p>“Alice, girl,” the old lady said, as she tore open the +first letter, “go and see if Andy is hitching-up yet. +Tell him that the dinner boxes will be ready in +quarter-hour. Maybe you’ll find him in the bean +patch, I sent him to gather a peck o’ broad beans. +Who’s this from?” she went on, turning to the last +page of her letter to look at the signature. “H’m––Winnipeg––the +bank. Guess I’ll read that later.”</p> +<p>Alice ran off to find Andy, and Mrs. Malling picked +up another envelope.</p> +<p>“Prudence, my girl,” went on the farm-wife, as +soon as Alice’s back was turned, “just open that +other,” pointing to a blue envelope. “The postmark +reads Ainsley. I take it, it’s from young Robb +Chillingwood. Maybe it’s to say as he’ll be along +d’rectly.”</p> +<p>Prudence picked the last letter up.</p> +<p>“It is hot in here, mother; I wonder you can stand +it.”</p> +<p>Her mother looked up over her spectacles.</p> +<p>“Stand it, child? It’s a woman’s place, is the +kitchen. I can’t trust no one at the stove but myself. +I’ve done it for over forty summers, an’ I don’t +reckon to give it up now. This is from that p’lice +feller. He ain’t doing much, I’m thinking. Seems to +me he spends most of his time in making up his bills +of expenses. Howsum, you look into it. What’s +Master Robb say?”</p> +<p>She put her glasses back into their broad old-fashioned +case and turned back to the stove. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +could never allow anything to keep her long from her +cooking. She lifted a lid and stabbed her cooking +fork gently into a great boiler full of potatoes. Then +she passed round to the other side and shook up the +fire.</p> +<p>“Oh, what a shame, mother! Won’t Al be disappointed? +Robb can’t come out here, at least not to +stay.” Prudence had finished her letter and now +looked disappointedly over at her mother.</p> +<p>“And how be that?” asked the old lady, standing +with a shovel of anthracite coal poised in her hand.</p> +<p>“He says that the rush of emigrants to the district +keeps him at work from daylight to dark. It’s too +bad. Poor old Al!”</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling dumped the coal into the stove with a +clatter and replaced the circular iron top. She said +nothing, and Prudence went on.</p> +<p>“He’s coming out this way on business shortly, and +will call over here if possible. But he can’t stay. +Says he’s making money now, and is writing to Al +and giving her all particulars. I <i>am</i> sorry he can’t +come.”</p> +<p>“Well, well; maybe it’s for the best,” said her +mother, in a consolatory manner. “Seemingly his +coming would only ’a caused bickerings with Hervey, +and, good-sakes, we get enough of that now. I’m not +one for underhand dealings, but I’m thinking it would +be for the best not to say anything to your brother +about his coming at all. If he asks, just say he can’t +come to stop. I’d sooner keep Hervey under my eye. +If he goes off, as he said, you never know what mischief +he’ll be getting up to. He just goes into Winnipeg +and gets around with them scallywags, and––and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +you never know. I have heard tell––though he never +lets on––as he’s too fond o’ poker. Leastways, I do +know as he spends more money than is good for him. +Sarah and me was talking only the other day. +Sarah’s pretty ’cute, and she declares that he’s got +gaming writ in his lines. Maybe it’s so. I’ll not dispute. +He won’t have no excuse for leaving now.” +And she sighed heavily and took up the vegetables +from the stove.</p> +<p>Alice returned, and the sound of wheels outside +told the farm-wife that the buckboard was ready for +the men’s dinner.</p> +<p>The two girls and the old lady portioned out the +food into the great canteens, and Andy lifted them on +to the buckboard. Then the choreman drove away.</p> +<p>By the time the farm dinner was ready Alice had +quite got over her disappointment. Prudence had +told her the contents of the letter, and also her +mother’s wishes on the subject. Alice was naturally +too cheerful to think much of the matter; besides, she +was glad that Robb’s business was improving.</p> +<p>Hervey came up from the fields in Andy’s buckboard. +He always came home for his dinner, and to-day +he brought an atmosphere of unwonted cheerfulness +with him. He had spent much thought and consideration +upon his relations with George Iredale, and +the result of his reflections was displayed in his +manner when he returned from the fields. Never in +his life had he held such a handful of trumps. His +hand needed little playing, and the chances of a cross +ruff looked to him remote.</p> +<p>After the meal he went out to the barn, where he +smoked for awhile in pensive solitude. He thought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +long and earnestly, and was so absorbed that he looked +up with a start at the sound of his mother’s voice +calling to him from the open kitchen window.</p> +<p>“Bestir yourself, Hervey, boy. There’s work to be +done down in the fields, which is your share in the +day’s doings.”</p> +<p>And the man, removing the pipe from his mouth, +forgot to grumble back a rough retort, and answered +quite cheerfully––</p> +<p>“All right, mother. Is Prudence there?”</p> +<p>“Where should she be, if not?” replied his mother, +turning back from the window to tell his sister that +she was wanted.</p> +<p>Prudence came out. Hervey watched her as she +approached. He could not but admit to himself the +prettiness of her trim figure, the quiet sedateness of +her beautiful, gentle face. Gazing intently, he failed +to observe the faint shadow in the expression of her +soft brown eyes. There was no sympathy in his +nature, and without sympathy it would have been impossible +to read the expression. But Prudence was +feeling a little sad and a little hurt. Iredale had not +fulfilled his promise. Two days had passed since he +had told her that he loved her and had asked her to +be his wife; nor, since then, had he been over to the +farm, nor had she heard a word from him. +Fortunately, she told herself, she had said nothing of +what had passed between them, not even to her friend +Alice; thus she was spared the sympathy of her +friends. She had waited for his coming with a world +of eager delight in her heart, and each moment of the +day on which he was to have come to see her mother +had been one of unalloyed happiness to her. Then as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +the evening drew on she became anxious. And again +as night came, and still no sign from him, her anxiety +had given place to alarm. That night she slept little, +but she kept her trouble to herself. Alice was all +eagerness to ask questions of her friend, but Prudence +gave her no opportunity. The next morning a note +had arrived. Business detained him, but he would be +over at the earliest possible moment. And now the +third day was well advanced and he still remained +away. She did not doubt him, but she felt hurt and a +little rebellious at the thought of his allowing himself +to be detained by business. Surely his first duty was +to her. It was not like him, she told herself; and she +felt very unhappy.</p> +<p>Hervey greeted her with an assumption of kindness, +almost of affection.</p> +<p>“Are you busy, Prue? I mean, I want to have a +little talk with you. I’ve been working in your +interests lately. You may guess in what direction. +And I have made a strange discovery. We haven’t +hit it off very well, I know, but you must forgive me +my shortcomings. I have lived too long in the wilds +to be a pleasant companion. Can you spare me a few +minutes?”</p> +<p>The dark eyes of the man were quite gentle in their +expression, and in the girl’s present state of mind his +apparent kindliness had a strong effect upon her. She +was surprised, but she smiled up into his face with a +world of gratitude. In spite of all, her love for her +brother was very deeply rooted. The simplicity of her +nature and the life she lived made her an easy victim +to his villainous wiles.</p> +<p>“Why, yes, Hervey; as long as you like.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span></div> +<p>“Good; I’m going down to the threshing. Will you +walk some part of the way with me? Mother has just +reminded me that my work must not be neglected. +Another two days and we shall be ready for the fall +ploughing.”</p> +<p>The sun was pouring down with fervid intensity. +The yard was very still and quiet. Everything that +had leisure was resting drowsily in the trifling shade +obtainable. The swine had ceased to make themselves +heard and were sleeping upon each other’s abdomens. +The fowls were scratching with ruffled feathers in the +sandy hollows of the parched earth, which they had +made during the hours of morning energy. The +pigeons had departed for the day to the shelter of a +distant bluff. Even the few horses remaining within +the barn were dozing. The dog, Neche, alone seemed +restless. He seemed to share with his master the +stormy passions of a cruel heart, for, with infinite +duplicity, he was lying low, pretending to be occupied +with a great beef shin-bone, while his evil eyes watched +intently the movements of half-a-dozen weary milch +cows, which were vainly endeavouring to reach the +shelter of their sheds. But the dog would not have it. +With a refinement of torture he would allow them to +mouch slowly towards their yard, then, just as they +were about to enter, he would fly into a dreadful +passion, and, limping vigorously at their heels, would +chase them out upon the prairie and then return once +more to his bone, only to await his opportunity of +repeating the operation.</p> +<p>Hervey and Prudence moved away and passed +down the trail. Neche reluctantly left his bone––having +satisfied himself in a comprehensive survey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +that no canine interloper was about who could steal +his treasure during his absence––and followed them. +He walked beside the girl without any sign of +pleasure. He was a dog that seemed to find no +joy in his master’s or mistress’s company. He seemed +to have no affection in him, and lived a life of mute +protest.</p> +<p>Hervey did not speak for a few minutes. It was +Prudence who broke the silence.</p> +<p>“I suppose it is something to do with Leslie’s +death that you want to talk to me about. I wondered +what your object was when you questioned me so +closely upon his dying words. Have you discovered +a fresh clue?”</p> +<p>“Something more than a fresh clue.” Hervey had +relapsed into his old moroseness.</p> +<p>“Ah!” The girl’s face lit with an almost painful +eagerness. For a moment her own immediate +troubles were forgotten. A wild feeling surged up +in her heart which set the blood tingling in her veins, +and she waited almost breathlessly for her brother’s +next words.</p> +<p>Hervey displayed no haste. Rather he seemed as +though he would gain time.</p> +<p>“That message or advertisement in the paper. +Did you ever attempt to fathom its meaning? It +was something of a puzzle.”</p> +<p>Prudence gazed up at the dark face beside her. +Hervey was looking down upon the dusty trail. His +look was one of profound thought. In reality he was +calculating certain chances.</p> +<p>“I tried, but failed dismally. To me it conveyed +nothing beyond the fact that its author shot Leslie.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></div> +<p>“Just so. But before I tell you what I have +discovered you must understand the argument. That +line contained a message, a message so significant +that once read with understanding the mystery of +Grey’s death became one that a child might solve.”</p> +<p>“Yes––yes. But the reading of it,” Prudence +exclaimed impatiently.</p> +<p>“It is intelligible to me.”</p> +<p>“And–––”</p> +<p>It was a different girl to the one we have hitherto +seen who awaited the man’s next words. The old, +gentle calmness, the patient, even disposition had +given place to a world of vengeful thought. There +was a look in those usually soft brown eyes which +bore a strange resemblance to her brother’s. A +moment had arrived in her life when circumstances +aroused that other side of her character of which, +perhaps, even she had been ignorant. She learned +now of her own capacity for hatred and revenge. +Some preliminary warnings of these latent passions +had been given when Grey had died, but the moment +had passed without full realization. Now she felt +the ruthless sway of a wave of passionate hatred +which seemed to rise from somewhere in her heart +and creep over her faculties, locking her in an embrace +in which she felt her good motives and love being +crushed out of all recognition. There could be no +doubt as to the resemblance between these two people +in that one touch of nature. Hervey was a long time +in answering. He had not only to tell her of his +discovery, but there were his personal interests to +consider. He wished to re-assure himself of his own +advantage.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></div> +<p>“See here, Prue, what are you offering––or rather, +is mother offering––to that detective chap if he +discovers the murderer of Grey? Let us quite understand +one another. I don’t intend to part with my +discovery for nothing. I want money as badly as +anybody can want it. For a consideration I’ll tell +you, and prove to you, who murdered your man. +Provided, of course, the consideration is sufficiently +large. Otherwise I say nothing.”</p> +<p>For a moment Prudence looked up from beneath +her sun-bonnet into her brother’s face. The scorn +in her look was withering. She had long since +learned the selfish nature of this man, but she had +not realized the full depths to which he had sunk +until now. He would sell his information. And the +thought scorched her brain with its dreadful significance.</p> +<p>“How much will buy you?” she asked at last. +And words fail to express the contempt she conveyed +in her tone.</p> +<p>Hervey laughed in a hollow fashion.</p> +<p>“You don’t put it nicely,” he said. “Ah, how +much will buy me?” he added thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“When a man chooses the methods of Judas it +seems to me there need be no picking or choosing +of words. What do you want? How much?”</p> +<p>His answer came swiftly. He spoke eagerly, and +his tone was quite different from that which his +companion was used to. It was as if some deep +note in his more obscure nature had been struck, and +was now making itself heard above the raucous +jangling of discord by which his life was torn. His +words were almost passionate, and there was a ring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +of truth in them which was astonishing, coming from +such a man.</p> +<p>“Look here, Prue, I want to get away from here. +I want to get out upon the world again, alone, to +make my life what I choose. I can’t stand this +place; the quiet surroundings; the people with +whom I come in contact. It isn’t living; it’s existence, +and a hellish one at that. Look around; +prairie––nothing but prairie. In the winter, snow, +endless snow; in the summer, the brown, scorched +prairie. The round of unrelieved, monotonous labour. +Farming; can mind of man conceive a life more +deadly? No––no! I want to get away from it all; +back to the life in which I was my own master, +unfettered by duties and distasteful labours for which +I am responsible to others. From the beginning my +life has been a failure. But that was not originally +my fault. I worked hard, and my ideals were sound +and good. Then I met with misfortune. My life was +my own to make or mar after that; what I chose +to do with it was my own concern. But here I do +not live. I want the means to get away; to make +a fresh start in different surroundings. Sooner or +later I must go, or I shall become a raving maniac. +You can help me in this, even as I can help you in +the cause in which you are now spending and wasting +a lot of money. Get mother to give me fifteen +thousand dollars, not only as the price of my information, +but also to help me, as your brother, to make +another start. I am not wanted here, neither do I +want to remain.”</p> +<p>He ceased speaking. The truth had died out of +his tone when he mentioned the money, and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +words were the specious wheedling of one who knows +the generous kindliness of those with whom he is +dealing. But Prudence gave no heed to anything +but that which found an answering chord in the +passionate emotion which swayed her. Hervey’s +appeal to get away drew from her some slight proportion +of sympathetic understanding, but her main +feeling was a desire to learn the truth which he had +discovered.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; but the clue––discovery.”</p> +<p>“First, the money. First, you must show me +that you will do this thing for me.”</p> +<p>“I can only answer for myself. I can promise +nothing in mother’s name.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but for yourself. You have an interest in +the farm.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I will give you all I have––all––all––if you +can prove to me, and in a court of law, who was the +man who shot Leslie Grey. I have saved nearly +everything I have made out of creamery. It is not +as large a sum as you require, but I can raise the +rest from mother. You shall have all you ask if you +can tell me this thing. But bear this in mind, +Hervey, you will have to prove your words. I give +you my word of honour that the money will be +forthcoming when you have accomplished this thing.”</p> +<p>Prudence spoke earnestly. But there was caution +in what she said. She did not trust her brother. +And though she was ready to pay almost anything +for the accomplishment of her purpose, she was not +going to allow herself to be tricked.</p> +<p>Hervey didn’t like these stipulations. He had +calculated to extort a price for his information only. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +The proving of his charge was a matter which would +entail time and trouble, and something else which he +did not care to contemplate; besides, he wanted to +get away. His recollection of his recent interview +with Iredale was still with him. And he remembered +well the rancher’s attitude. It struck him that George +Iredale would fight hard to prove his innocence. He +wondered uncomfortably if he could establish it. +No, he must make a better bargain than the girl +offered.</p> +<p>“See here, Prue, this is a matter of business. +There is no sentiment in it as far as I am concerned. +Your conditions are too hard. You pay me half the +money down when I give you the story. You can +pay the rest when I have carried out your further +conditions. It is only fair. Establishing a case in +the law courts is a thing that takes time. And, besides, +I have known guilty people to get off before +now. I can convince you of the truth of my case. +A jury is different.”</p> +<p>Prudence thought for a moment. They were +already within earshot of the thresher. And the droning +of the machine and the jerky spluttering of the +traction engine sounded pleasantly in the sultry +atmosphere. The dog hobbled lazily at her heels, +nor did he show the least sign of interest in his +surroundings. The wagons loaded with bountiful +sheaves were drawing up to the thresher from half-a-dozen +directions, whilst those already emptied were +departing for fresh supplies. Everywhere was a +wondrous peace; only in those two hearts was an +ocean of unrest.</p> +<p>“Very well. If you can convince me, it shall be as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +you say. You shall have the money. The rest shall +remain until after the jury’s verdict. I am not prepared +to give you the money I have saved for any +tale you choose to concoct. Now let me have your +story. You have shown me too much of your sordid +craving to make me a ready believer.”</p> +<p>“You will believe me before I have finished, Prue,” +the man retorted, with a bitter laugh. “You will find +corroboration for what I have to tell in your own +knowledge of certain facts.”</p> +<p>“So much the better for you. Go on.”</p> +<p>In spite of her cautious words Prudence waited with +nerves tingling and with rapidly beating heart for her +brother’s story. She did not know herself. She did +not understand the feelings which swayed her. +Hervey had an easier task than either of them believed. +Of late she had dwelt so long––so intently––upon +the matter under discussion that she was ready +to believe almost anything which offered a solution to +the ghastly mystery. But she did not know this. +Hervey told his story with all the cunning of a man +who appreciates the results which attach to the effect +of his words. He lost no detail which could further +his ends.</p> +<p>“Grey, on his deathbed, alluded to the notice in +the paper. He did so in answer to your question as +to who had shot him?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“He was perfectly conscious?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Some time before he died you and he had discussed +this notice, and he told you he was meditating +a coup in which that notice had afforded him his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +principal clue.” The girl nodded, and Hervey went +on. “Grey was a Customs officer. All his works +centred round contraband. No other work came into +his sphere of operations. Very well, the clue which +that notice afforded had to do with some illicit traffic. +The question is, What was the nature of that traffic? +Here is the obvious solution. ‘Yellow booming.’ +What traffic is known by such a title as ‘Yellow’ in +this country? There is only one. Traffic in Chinese! +The smuggling of Chinese across the border. And this +traffic was booming. Operations were being successfully +carried out. Where? The rest is easy. Somewhere +in Grey’s district. ‘Slump in Grey’ could only +mean, under the circumstances, that Grey’s supervision +was avoided; that the work was carried out in spite +of him. You know––everybody knows that Chinese +are smuggled into Canada at many points along the +border, and that opium is brought in at the same time. +Thus the poll tax and the opium tax are avoided by +men who make a living out of this traffic. The profit +is worth the risk. There is a fortune in smuggling +opium. The authorities are endeavouring to put it +down. It is well known that our cities are swarming +with Chinese for whom no poll tax has been paid. +And yet the legitimate importation of opium does not +increase. Rather has it decreased in consequence of +the prohibitive tax imposed upon it. Still, these +Chinese must have their opium. This then was the +coup poor Grey meditated. He had discovered a hotbed +of opium smuggling. If he succeeded in rounding +the smugglers up, it meant a great deal to his future +prospects. Is that all plain?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; go on.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></div> +<p>The girl’s eyes were gleaming strangely. She +followed every word her brother said with an intentness +which boded well for the result of his efforts. +The careful array of arguments was speciously +detailed. Now she waited for what was still to come +without any attempt at concealing her impatience. +For the time everything was forgotten while she +learned of the murderer of her first love. The peaceful +scene about her was set before eyes which no +longer gazed with intelligence upon their surroundings. +She was back in the farm parlour listening to Leslie’s +story of his hopes––his aspirations. Every detail of +that evening was brought vividly back to her memory. +She remembered, too, that that was the night on +which Hervey had returned. There was a significance +in the thought that was not lost upon her.</p> +<p>Hervey had come to a stand, and Prudence placed +herself before him. Neche squatted beside her, and as +he sat his head reached up to her waist.</p> +<p>“Very well. The question alone remains, who +along the border in this part of the country is +smuggling Chinese? And having found your man, +did he insert the notice in question?”</p> +<p>“Yes––and you–––”</p> +<p>“Chance pointed out the man to me. And I have +ascertained the rest.”</p> +<p>“And who is the murderer of Leslie?”</p> +<p>There was an impressive pause. Hervey gazed +down into the eager upturned face. The dog beside +the girl moved restlessly, and as he moved he made a +curious whining noise. His nose was held high in the +air, and his greenish eyes looked up towards the +spotless sun-bonnet.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></div> +<p>“The owner of Lonely Ranch. George Iredale!”</p> +<p>Hervey turned abruptly away. Neche had moved +a little way back along the trail and stood looking +about him. Then out on the still air rang a piercing, +hysterical laugh. And Prudence stretched out her +arm and clutched at the barbed-wire fence-post as +though her mirth had overcome her.</p> +<p>Hervey looked sharply round upon her. Neche +gave a low growl, the noise seemed to have offended +him; then he limped off down the trail back to the +house.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV_THE_MAGGOT_AT_THE_CORE' id='CHAPTER_XV_THE_MAGGOT_AT_THE_CORE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>THE MAGGOT AT THE CORE</h3> +</div> +<p>Hervey’s look of surprise quickly changed to one +of displeasure. To him his sister’s attitude merely +suggested incredulity, nothing more.</p> +<p>“Well?” he said at last, as her laugh died out +suddenly.</p> +<p>Prudence turned upon him with a strange fierceness.</p> +<p>“Go on. You must tell me more than that to +convince me. George Iredale––smuggler, murderer! +You must be mad!”</p> +<p>Hervey kept himself well in hand. He was playing +for a great stake. He would lose nothing through +any ill-advised bluster.</p> +<p>“I was never more sane in my life,” he answered +coldly. “I am ready to prove my words.”</p> +<p>“Prove them.”</p> +<p>Prudence’s face and the tone of her voice were icy. +Her mouth was set firmly, the declined corners testifying +to the hard setting of her jaws. She looked straight +into her brother’s face with an intentness which made +him lower his eyes. He had no conception of the fires +which he had stirred within her. One unconquerable +desire swayed her. This man must tell her all he +knew. Then she would refute every word, tell him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +what manner of man he was, and have him driven +from the farm. She hated him at that moment as +she might hate a rattlesnake. She was filled with a +longing to strike him, her own brother, to the earth.</p> +<p>Hervey spoke in measured, even tones.</p> +<p>“You know the ranch and its surroundings well. +You have been there. You have heard the so-called +owl cries which greet the visitor upon entering the +valley. Those are not owl cries at all, but the work +of human sentries always on the watch, ready to give +immediate alarm at the approach of danger. The +secret of the ranch lies in the graveyard.” Prudence +started. “That is where I made my first discovery, +a discovery of which I should not have understood +the significance but for your experiences when picnicking +in that region two or three days before. At +the time I speak of I had come upon the cemetery for +the first time. I had Neche with me. I paused at +the broken fence which surrounded it, and surveyed +the overgrown graves. While I did so, Neche +mouched about among them with canine inquisitiveness. +Suddenly he became agitated, and showed +signs of having hit upon a hot scent. I watched him +curiously. He ran up a path and then paused at one +of the stone-marked graves. Here he began to tear +wildly at the edge of it. I followed him up and saw +that he had dug a hole below the stone. I dragged +him away, and found that beneath the stone the grave +was hollow. Then I moved hastily away, and, taking +the dog to the ruined dead-house, put him on the +scent again. He dashed in, whining excitedly as he +went. It was while I stood watching for his return +that I discovered the most significant point. Directly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +under my feet, somewhere under the ground, I heard +a sound of hammering. Then I knew that the graveyard +was no longer the resting-place of the dead, but +the abode of the living. Instantly I remembered all +the details of your ghost story, and determined to +witness for myself the scenes you had observed. Settle +it for once and all in your mind. I was troubled with +no superstitious fears upon the matter. I guessed the +truth.” Hervey broke off, but resumed quickly. +“That evening I returned to the graveyard surreptitiously, +and took up a position in the black shelter of +the surrounding woods. I saw all you saw. But the +robed figures were not the ghosts which you thought +them to be; they were Chinese, carrying their boxes +and bundles of personal luggage, and, I have no doubt, +a cargo of opium. Then I understood that the graveyard +was honeycombed with cellars, and that this +place formed the central depôt of Iredale’s traffic and +his distributing station. I can understand how these +‘yellow-devils’ are distributed by means of loaded +hayracks and such things. The point I have not +fathomed is the means by which the ‘goods’ are +brought into the country. I suggest the only means +I can think of as being almost without risk, and that +is the lake.”</p> +<p>Hervey paused to watch the effect of his story. +Prudence gave no sign. She no longer looked at her +companion, but away across the harvested fields in the +direction of Iredale’s ranch. As he waited for her +comment her lips moved.</p> +<p>“Go on,” was all she said; and the man proceeded.</p> +<p>“It was an unconscious expression which, in the +first flush of discovery I made use of which ultimately +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +gave me a clue to the rest. As realization of Iredale’s +doings came to me I thought of the notorious ‘Traffic +in Yellow.’ That night I pondered long over the +whole thing. I had learned to like Iredale better +than any man I have ever known. He had always +seemed such an honest, straightforward man. And +all of you folks were so fond of him. It was a painful +awakening; but there was worse to come, for, as I lay +awake thinking, there flashed through my brain the +recollection of what you had told me of Grey’s death +and his reference to the notice in the paper. Instantly +the interpretation of that line came to me. It related +to the yellow traffic. And I shuddered as I reviewed +the possibilities which my discovery opened up. I +couldn’t rest. A feverish desire to know the worst +assailed me. I questioned you as you may remember, +and, with every reply you gave me, my fears received +confirmation. In the end I could no longer keep +silence, and my anger drove me to a course which I +have since almost regretted, for it has destroyed the +last vestige of the regard I entertained for the man +you have all so liked and respected. I went over to +the ranch and challenged George Iredale–––”</p> +<p>“On the night of the storm. The night he visited +me. Go on.” Prudence’s face was ghastly in its +pallor. She gave no other sign of emotion.</p> +<p>“Yes, on the night of the storm. I taxed him with +smuggling. He admitted it. I taxed him with the +authorship of that notice–––”</p> +<p>“Well?” The girl leant forward in her eagerness.</p> +<p>“He did not contradict it. His attitude was a tacit +admission. That is my evidence.”</p> +<p>Hervey ceased speaking, and a long pause followed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +The man waited. He did not wish to hurry her. He +was not blind to the fact that she regarded Iredale +with something more than mere friendly feeling, and, +with fiendish cunning, he had played upon the knowledge +by his allusions to his own regard for the man +and the trust which they all placed in him. This +woman’s love for Iredale he knew would help him; +for, gradually, as the damning evidence he had +produced filtered through her armour of loyal affection, +her hatred for the man would be doubled and trebled. +In this Hervey displayed a knowledge of human +nature which one would scarcely have credited him +with.</p> +<p>At last Prudence turned. The pallor of her face +was unchanged. Only the look in her eyes had +altered. The horror which had shone there had +become a world of piteous appeal. All her soul +shone forth in those sweet, brown eyes. Surely it +must have needed a heart of stone to resist her. Her +body was leaning forward, her two brown hands were +held out towards him.</p> +<p>“I don’t believe it! I can’t believe it! George is +no––murderer.”</p> +<p>Hervey’s great eyes lowered before that heartful +look. His face was a study in hopelessness. From +his expression of deep sorrow Iredale might have been +his own brother who was accused of murder.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid there is no hope of what you say, Prue. +Leslie was conscious; he knew what he was saying. +<i>Iredale had every reason for shooting him</i>. The +circumstantial evidence is damning. The most +sceptical jury would be convinced.”</p> +<p>“O God! O God! And he has asked me to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +his wife.” Prudence covered her face with her hands, +and her body heaved with great, passionate sobs.</p> +<p>Hervey started at the words. His face lit up with +a wicked joy. This was better than he had expected. +George should pay dearly for his refusal to buy his +silence.</p> +<p>“You say he dared to propose to you with that foul +crime upon his soul? He is a worse villain than I +had believed. By heavens, he shall swing for his +crime! I had hoped that my news had come in time +to save you this cruel wrong. The scum! The foul, +black-hearted scum!”</p> +<p>Hervey’s rage was melodramatic. But the girl, +even in the depths of her misery and distraught +feelings, was impressed. Her heart cried out for +her lover, and proclaimed his innocence in terms +which would not be silenced. His image rose before +her mind’s eye, and she looked upon that kindly, +strong face, the vigorous bearing of that manly figure, +and the story she had just listened to became dwarfed +as her faith in him rose superior to the evidence of her +senses. It could not be. Her quivering lips struggled +to frame the words she longed to utter, but no sound +came. Hervey’s words, his attitude, his appearance of +deep, honest sorrow for his sister paralyzed her faculties +and hope died down in her heart.</p> +<p>The man moved forward to her side, and touched +her gently on the shoulders.</p> +<p>“Come, Prue, we had best go back to the house. I +can do no work to-day. You, too, need quiet for +reflection. The heartless villain!” And he harped +upon the information his sister had provided him +with.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></div> +<p>Prudence allowed herself to be led. She did not +care whither she went or what happened. She was +incapable of reasoning. She was stunned by the cruel +blow that had fallen. Later she would recover herself, +for all such blows are but passing; in waking moments +mind and reason cannot long remain inert and sanity +obtain. For the present she was a mere automaton.</p> +<p>Hervey grew uncomfortable at the girl’s prolonged +silence. He cared nothing for her feelings; he cared +nothing for the heart he had broken. He cared only +for the money he had not yet secured. He realized +only too well that, whatever protest his sister might +offer, he had convinced her of Iredale’s guilt; it was +only a question of time before she admitted it openly. +But some feeling of doubt prompted him to secure +his wage without delay. Thus his greed rushed him +on to a false trail.</p> +<p>Halfway to the house he broke the silence.</p> +<p>“Well, Prue, you cannot refute my evidence. +Iredale is the man you have all been seeking. I +have served you well. You yourself have escaped a +course which would have brought you lifelong regret. +Think of it! What would it have meant to you had +you married the man? Terrible! Terrible!”</p> +<p>The girl looked up. There was a wild, hunted look +in her eyes. Her brother’s words had in some way +driven her at bay. He had struck a chord which had +set her every nerve on edge, and in doing so had +upset all his best-laid schemes. A flood of passionate +protest surged to her lips and flowed forth in a seething +torrent. She remembered what his story had +been told for; she had forgotten for the moment, so +well had he acted his part, and had thought only that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +what he had said was the outcome of his regard for +her. Now she turned upon him like a tigress.</p> +<p>“Judas!” she cried, a flush of rage sweeping up +into her face as the words hissed from between her +teeth. “You have come to sell this man. Your +thoughts have nothing to do with the meting out of +human justice. You want a price for your filthy +work. I loathe you! What curse is on our family +that you should have been born into it? You shall +have your money; do you hear? You shall have it, +and with it goes my curse. But not yet. My conditions +are not fulfilled. I do not believe you; your +story has not convinced me; I can see no reason in +it. Ha, ha!” and she laughed hysterically. “You +cannot make me believe it because I will not. You +shall have your money, I will not go back on my +word; but you must fulfil the conditions. You must +convince me of the reason in your story. You will +earn your pay as you have never earned anything +in your life. Shall I tell you how you will earn it? +You will prove your story before judge and jury. +When you have convinced them you will have convinced +me. Then I will pay you. My God, what +taint has brought such blood into the veins of our +flesh? If Iredale is the murderer he shall pay the +extreme penalty, and you––whether you like it or +not––shall be instrumental in that punishment. You +shall be his accuser; you shall see him to the scaffold. +And after it is over, after you have received the sum +of your blood-money, I will tell the world of your +doings. That you––my brother––demanded a price +for your work. They––the world––shall know you; +shall loathe you as I loathe you. You shall be an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +outcast wherever you go, stamped with the brand of +Judas––the most despised of all men. Better for you +if you stood in George Iredale’s place on the scaffold +than face the world so branded. Oh, you wretched +man, you have destroyed my life––my all! Go, and +bring the police. Go to those whose duty it is to +listen to such stories as yours. Now I will drive you +to it; you shall go, whether you like it or not. Refuse, +and I will lay the information and force you to +become a witness. You thought you were dealing +with a soft, silly woman; you thought to cajole +the price out of me, and then, having obtained what +you desired, to leave me to do the work. Fool! +You will face George Iredale, the accuser and the +accused. You shall earn your money. I know the +ways of such men as you. Do you know what you +are doing? Do you know the name that such work +as yours goes by? It is blackmail!”</p> +<p>The girl paused for breath. Then she went on +with a bitterness that was almost worse than the +contempt in all she had said before.</p> +<p>“But rest content. Every penny you have asked +for shall be yours when Iredale’s crimes are expiated. +Nor shall I give to the world the story of my brother’s +perfidy until such time as you have gone out of our +world for ever. Go, go from me now; I will not walk +beside you.”</p> +<p>Hervey’s face was a study in villainous expression +as he listened to his sister’s hysterical denunciation. +He knew the reason of her tirade. He knew that she +loved Iredale. He had convinced her of this lover’s +crimes; he knew this. And now, woman-like, she +turned upon him––for his hand, his words had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +destroyed her happiness. But her words smote hard. +The lowest natures care not what others think of +them, but those others’ spoken thoughts have a +different effect. So it was with Hervey. It mattered +nothing to him what the girl thought of him––what +the world thought of him. But words––abuse––had +still power to move him.</p> +<p>She struck the right note when she said the money +down was what he wanted. Now he saw that he had +over-reached himself, and he cursed himself for having +trusted to a woman’s promise. There was but one +thing left for him to do. He controlled himself well +when he replied.</p> +<p>“Very well, sister,” he said. “In spite of what you +say, you are going back on your word. You should +have thought to fling dirt before you entered into a +compact with me. However, I care nothing for all +your threats. As you have said, I want money. +Nothing else matters to me. So I will go to Winnipeg +and see this thing through.”</p> +<p>“You certainly will have to do so. Andy shall +drive you into town to-night, and I could find it in +my heart to wish that I might never see your face +again.”</p> +<p>“Very well.” Hervey laughed harshly. “As you +wish. I accept your commands. See you as readily +fulfil your part of the contract when the time comes. +You do not hoodwink me again with impunity.”</p> +<p>And so brother and sister parted. The girl walked +on to the house, her feet dragging wearily over the +dusty trail. Hervey paused irresolutely. His burning +eyes, filled with a look of bitter hatred, gazed after +the slight figure of his sister, whose life he had so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +wantonly helped to wreck. Then he laughed cruelly +and turned abruptly back on his tracks and returned +once more to the harvesters.</p> +<p>Prudence gained the house and went straight to +her room. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to +straighten out the chaos of her thoughts. She heard +the cheery voices of her mother and Alice talking in +the kitchen. She heard the clatter of plates and +dishes, and she knew that these two were washing up. +But beyond that she noticed nothing; she did not +even see the plump figure of Sarah Gurridge approaching +the house from the direction of Leonville.</p> +<p>Once in her own little room she flung herself into +an arm-chair and sat staring straight in front of her. +Her paramount feeling was one of awful horror. The +mystery was solved, and George Iredale was the +murderer. The metal alarm clock ticked away upon +the wooden top of her bureau, and the sound pervaded +the room with its steady throb. Her feelings, +her thoughts, seemed to pulsate in concert with its +rhythm. The words which expressed her dominant +emotions hammered themselves into her brain with +the steady precision of the ticking––</p> +<p>“George Iredale, the murderer of Leslie Grey!”</p> +<p>The moments passed, but time brought the girl +no relief. All thought of the man who had told her +of this thing had passed from her. Only the fact +remained. Slowly, as she sat with nerves tingling +and whirling brain, a flush of blood mounted to her +head, her brain became hot, and she seemed to be +looking out on a red world. The ticking of the clock +grew fainter and more distant. The room seemed to +diminish in size, while the objects about her drew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +nearer and nearer. A sense of compression was +hers, although she seemed to be gazing out over +some great distance with everything around her in +due perspective.</p> +<p>Mechanically she rose and opened the window; +then she returned to her chair with something of the +action of an automaton.</p> +<p>And as she sat the blood seemed to recede from +her brain and an icy dew broke out upon her forehead. +She was numbed with a sort of paralysis now, +and the measured beat of the clock no longer pounded +out the words of her thought. Only her heart beat +painfully, and she was conscious of a horrible void. +Something was wrong with her, but she was incapable +of realizing what it was.</p> +<p>She moved, the chair creaked under her, and again +thought flowed through her brain. It came with a +rush; the deadly numbness had gone as quickly as +it had come, and once more her faculties worked +feverishly. Now she realized pain, horror, despair, +hopelessness in a sudden, overwhelming flood. She +shrank back deeper into the chair as though to avoid +physical blows which were being rained upon her by +some unseen hand.</p> +<p>Presently she started up with a faint cry. She +walked across the room and back again. She paused +at the bureau, muttering––</p> +<p>“It can’t be! It can’t be!” she said to herself, in +an agony of terror. “George is too good, too honest. +Ah!”</p> +<p>Her love cried out for the man, but reason checked +her while her heart tried to rush her into extravagant +hopefulness. Iredale had admitted the smuggling. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +She had seen with her own eyes the doings at the +graveyard. And therein lay the key to everything. +Leslie had said so with his dying breath. But as this +thought came to her it was chased away by her love +in a fresh burst of fervour. She could not believe it. +There must be some awful, some horrible mistake.</p> +<p>Slowly her mind steadied itself; the long years of +calmness which she had spent amidst the profound +peace of the prairie helped her. She gripped herself +lest the dreadful thought of what she had heard +should drive her to madness. She went over what +she had been told with a keen examination. She +listened to her own arguments for and against the +man she loved. She went back to the time when +Leslie had told her of his “coup.” She remembered +everything so well. She paused as she recollected +her dead lover’s anger at George’s coming to the +party. And, for a moment, her heart almost stood +still. She asked herself, had she misinterpreted his +meaning? Had there been something underlying +his expressed displeasure at George’s coming which +related to what he knew of his, George Iredale’s, +doings at the ranch? Every word he had said came +back to her. She remembered that he had finished +up his protest with a broken sentence.</p> +<p>“––And besides–––”</p> +<p>There was a significance in those words now which +she could not help dwelling upon. Then she put the +thought from her as her faith in her lover re-asserted +itself. But the effort was a feeble one; her love was +being overwhelmed by the damning evidence.</p> +<p>She moved restlessly from the bureau to the +window. The curtained aperture looked out upon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +the far-reaching cornfields, which were now only a +mass of brown stubble. In the distance, beyond the +dyke, she could see the white steam of the traction-engine +and the figures of many men working. The +carts and racks were moving in the picture, but for +all else the view was one of peaceful, unbroken +calm.</p> +<p>Her mind passed on to the time when the party +had broken up. She remembered how in searching +for Iredale she had found the two men quarrelling, or +something in that nature. Again Leslie had been on +the verge of telling her something, but the moment +had gone by and he had kept silence. She tried to +deny the significance of these things, but reason +checked her, and her heart sank to zero. And she +no longer tried to defend her lover.</p> +<p>Then came the recollection of that picnic. The +screech-owls; the boats laden with their human freight +moving suspiciously over the waters of the great lake. +She thought of the graveyard and the ghostly procession. +And all the time her look was hardening +and the protests of her heart slowly died out. If she +had doubted Hervey’s words, all these things of which +she now thought were facts evident to her own senses. +The hard light in her eyes changed to the bright +flash of anger. This man had come to her with his +love, she reminded herself, and she had yielded to +him all that she had power to bestow. The brown +eyes grew darker until their glowing depths partially +resembled those of her brother.</p> +<p>As the anger in her heart rose her pain increased, +and she recoiled in horror at the thought that this +man had dared to offer her his love while his hands +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +were stained with black crime. At best he was a +law-breaker; at the worst he was–––</p> +<p>She paced her room with agitated steps. The +blood rose to her head again, and she felt dizzy and +dazed. What could she do? What must she do? +She longed for some one to whom she could tell all +that was in her heart, but she could not speak of it––she +dared not. She felt that she must be going mad. +Through all her agony of mind she knew that she +loved this man who was––a murderer.</p> +<p>She told herself that she hated him, and she knew +that she lied to deceive herself. No, no, he was not +guilty. He had not been proved guilty, and no man +is guilty until he is proved so. Thoughts crowded +thick and fast on her sorely-taxed brain, and again +and again her hands went up to her head with the +action of one who is mentally distracted. But in +spite of the conflict that raged within her the angry +light in her eyes grew, and a look which was out of +all keeping with the sweet face was slowly settling +itself upon her features. Again she cried in her heart, +“What shall I do?”</p> +<p>Suddenly a light broke through her darkness and +revealed to her a definite course. This man must +not be judged, at least by her, without a hearing. +Why should she not go to him? Why not challenge +him with the story? If he were the murderer, perhaps +he would strike her to the earth, and add her to +the list of his victims. She laughed bitterly. It +would be good to die by his hand, she thought. +Under any circumstances life was not worth living. +The thought fascinated her. Yes, she would do it. +Then her spirit of justice rose and rebelled. No. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +He would then go unpunished. Leslie’s death would +remain unavenged. The murderer would have +triumphed.</p> +<p>She thought long; she moved wildly about the +room. And as the hours passed a demon seemed to +come to her and take hold of her. It was the demon +which looked out of her brother’s eyes, and which +now looked out of hers. He whispered to her, and her +willing ears listened to all he said. Her heart, torn by +conflicting passions, drank in the cruel promptings.</p> +<p>“Why not kill him? Why not kill him?” suggested +the demon. “If he is guilty, kill him, and your life +will not have been lived in vain. If he be a murderer +it were but justice. You will have fulfilled your +promise of vengeance. After that you could turn +your hand against yourself.”</p> +<p>And her heart echoed the question, “Why not?”</p> +<p>For nearly an hour she continued to pace her room. +Yes, yes! Hers was the right, she told herself. If +he were the murderer she did not care to live. They +should die together; they should journey beyond +together. She thought over all the details, and all +the time the demon looked out of her eyes and +jogged her with fresh arguments when her heart failed. +She knew where her brother kept his pistols. She +would wait until he had set out for Winnipeg. Then, +on the morrow, she would ride over to Lonely Ranch.</p> +<p>She nursed her anger; she encouraged it at every +turn. And she longed for the morrow. But outwardly +she grew calm. Only her eyes betrayed her. +And they were not the eyes of perfect sanity. They +glowed with a lurid fire, the fire which shone in the +fierce, dark eyes of her brother.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI_AN_ECHO_FROM_THE_ALASKAN_MOUNTAINS' id='CHAPTER_XVI_AN_ECHO_FROM_THE_ALASKAN_MOUNTAINS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>AN ECHO FROM THE ALASKAN MOUNTAINS</h3> +</div> +<p>Alice searched all over the farm for her friend. +The last place in which she thought of looking was +the little bedroom the two girls shared. Here at +length she arrived, and a shock awaited her.</p> +<p>Prudence was sitting beside the window. She was +gazing out at the bare, harvested fields, nor did she +turn at her friend’s approach. It was not until Alice +spoke that she looked round.</p> +<p>“Here you are, Prue! Why, whatever is the +matter?” she exclaimed, as she noted the grey pallor +of the face before her; the drawn lines about the +mouth, the fiercely burning eyes. “You poor soul, +you are ill; and you never told me a word about it. +I have been looking everywhere for you. It is +tea-time. What is it, dear?”</p> +<p>“Do I look ill?” Prudence asked wearily. She +passed her hand across her forehead. She was almost +dazed. Then she went on as she turned again to the +window: “I’m all right; my head is aching––that’s +all. I don’t think I want any tea.” The next +moment she was all alertness. “Has Hervey returned +from the fields?”</p> +<p>“Hervey? Yes; why? He’s returned and gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +away again; gone into Winnipeg. He nearly frightened +poor mother Hephzy out of her wits. Came in +all of a sudden and declared he must hurry off to +Winnipeg at once, and he wanted Andy to drive +him. You know his way. He wouldn’t give any +explanation. He was like a bear to his mother. My +fingers were just itching to slap his face. But come +along, dear, you must have some tea. It’ll do your +head good.”</p> +<p>While she was speaking Alice’s eyes never left her +friend’s face. There was something about Prudence’s +expression she didn’t like. Her mind at once reverted +to thoughts of fever and sunstroke and such +things, but she said nothing that might cause alarm. +She merely persisted when the other shook her head.</p> +<p>Eventually her persuasions prevailed.</p> +<p>“Mother Hephzy’s fretting away down-stairs and +Sarah is backing her up. The long-suffering Mary +has been catching it in consequence. So come along +and be your most cheerful self, Prue. The poor old +dears must be humoured.”</p> +<p>And Alice with gentle insistence led her companion +down to the parlour.</p> +<p>“And where, miss, have you been all this precious +time?” asked Mrs. Malling, when the two girls +reached the parlour. “Sleeping, I’ll be bound, to +judge by them spectacles around your eyes. There’s +no git-up about young folk now-a-days,” she went on, +turning to Sarah. “Six hours’ sleep for healthy-minded +women, I says; not an hour more nor an +hour less. Sister Emma was allus one o’ them for +her sy-esta.” Then she turned back to Prudence. +“Maybe she learned you, my girl.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span></div> +<p>“I haven’t been sleeping, mother,” Prudence protested, +taking her place at the table. “I don’t feel +very well.”</p> +<p>“Ah, you don’t say so,” exclaimed the old lady, all +anxiety at once. “An’ why didn’t you tell me before? +Now maybe you’ve got a touch o’ the sun?”</p> +<p>“Have you been faint and giddy?” asked Sarah, +fixing her quiet eyes upon the girl’s face.</p> +<p>“No, I don’t think so. I’ve got a headache––nothing +more.”</p> +<p>“Ah; cold bath and lemon soda,” observed her +mother practically.</p> +<p>“Tea, and be left alone,” suggested Sarah.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘Nature designs all human ills, but in the making +Suggests the cure which best is for the taking.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Her steady old eyes seemed able to penetrate mere +outward signs.</p> +<p>“Quite right, ‘Aunt’ Sarah,” said Alice decidedly. +“Leave the nostrums and quackeries alone. Prue +will be all right after a nice cup of tea. Now, +mother Hephzy, one of your best for the invalid, +and, please, I’ll have some more ham.”</p> +<p>“That you shall, you flighty harum-scarum. And +to think o’ the likes o’ you dictating to me about +nostrums and physickings,” replied the farm-wife, +with a comfortable laugh. “I’ll soon be having Mary +teaching me to toss a buckwheat ‘slap-jack.’ Now +see an’ cut from the sides o’ that ham where the +curin’s primest. I do allow as the hams didn’t cure +just so, last winter. Folks at my board must have of +the best.”</p> +<p>“I never knew any one to get anything else here,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +laughed Alice. Then she turned her head sharply +and sat listening.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling looked over towards the window. +Prudence silently sipped her tea, keeping her eyes +lowered as much as possible. She knew that, in +spite of their talk, these kindly people were worried +about her, and she tried hard to relieve their anxiety.</p> +<p>“Some one for us,” said Alice, as the sound of +horse’s hoofs came in through the open window.</p> +<p>“Some one from Lakeville, I expect,” said Mrs. +Malling, making a guess.</p> +<p>“That’s George Iredale’s horse,” said Sarah, who +had detected the sound of a pacer’s gait.</p> +<p>Prudence looked up in a startled, frightened way. +Sarah was looking directly at her. She made no +further comment aloud, but contented herself with a +quiet mental note.</p> +<p>“Something wrong,” she thought; “and it’s to do +with him. Poor child, poor child. Maybe she’s +fretting herself because–––”</p> +<p>Her reflections were abruptly broken off as the +sound of a man’s voice hailing at the front door +penetrated to the parlour.</p> +<p>“Any one in?” cried the voice; and instantly +Alice sprang to her feet.</p> +<p>“It’s Robb!” she exclaimed. There was a clatter +as her chair fell back behind her; she nearly fell over +it, reached the door, and the next moment those in +the parlour heard the sound of joyous exclamations +proceeding from the hall.</p> +<p>Prudence’s expression was a world of relief. Her +mother was overjoyed.</p> +<p>“This is real good. Bring him in! Bring him in, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +Miss Thoughtless! Don’t keep him there a-philandering +when there’s good fare in the parlour!”</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“‘Love feeds on kisses, we read in ancient lay; +Meaning the love of yore; not of to-day,’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>murmured Sarah, with a pensive smile, while she +turned expectantly to greet the visitor.</p> +<p>Radiant, her face shining with conscious happiness, +Alice led her fiancé into the room. And Robb +Chillingwood found himself sitting before the farm-wife’s +generous board almost before he was aware of +it. While he was being served he had to face a +running fire of questions from, at least, three of the +ladies present.</p> +<p>Robb was a cheerful soul and ever ready with a +pleasant laugh. This snatched holiday from a stress +of under-paid work was like a “bunk” to a schoolboy. +It was more delightful to him by reason of the +knowledge that he would have to pay up for it afterwards +with extra exertions and overtime work.</p> +<p>“You didn’t tell us when you were coming,” said +Alice.</p> +<p>“Didn’t know myself. Thought I’d ride over from +Iredale’s place on spec’.”</p> +<p>“And you’re come from there now?” asked Mrs. +Malling.</p> +<p>Prudence looked up eagerly.</p> +<p>“Yes; I’ve just bought all his stock for a Scotch +client of mine.”</p> +<p>“Scotch?” Sarah turned away with a motion of +disgust.</p> +<p>“What, has George sold all his beasties at last?” +exclaimed the farm-wife.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></div> +<p>“Why, yes. Didn’t you know? He’s giving up +his ranch.”</p> +<p>Robb looked round the table in surprise. There +was a pause. Then Mrs. Malling broke it––</p> +<p>“He has spoken of it––hinted. But we wasn’t +expectin’ it so soon. He’s made his pile.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he must have done so,” said Robb readily. +“The price he parted with his cattle to me for was +ridiculous. I shall make a large profit out of my +client. It’ll all help towards furnishing, Al,” he went +on, turning to his fiancée.</p> +<p>“I’m so glad you are doing well now, Robb,” the +girl replied, with a happy smile.</p> +<p>“Yes.” Then the man turned to Mrs. Malling. +“We’re going to get married this fall. I hope Alice +has been learning something of housekeeping”––with +a laugh.</p> +<p>“Why, yes. Alice knows a deal more than she +reckons to let on, I guess,” said the farm-wife, with a +fat chuckle.</p> +<p>Prudence now spoke for the first time since Robb’s +arrival. She looked up suddenly, and, though she +tried hard to speak conversationally, there was a +slightly eager ring in her voice.</p> +<p>“When is George Iredale going to leave the +ranch?”</p> +<p>Robb turned to her at once.</p> +<p>“Can’t say. Not yet, I should think. He seems +to have made no preparations. Besides, I’ve got to +see him again in a day or two.”</p> +<p>“Then you will stay out here?” asked Alice +eagerly.</p> +<p>“Well, no.” Robb shook his head with a comical +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +expression of chagrin. “Can’t be done, I’m afraid. +But I’ll come over here when I’m in the neighbourhood, +if possible.” Then to Mrs. Malling, +“May I?”</p> +<p>“Why, certainly,” said the farm-wife, with characteristic +heartiness. “If you come to this district +without so much as a look in here, well, you can +just pass right along for the future.”</p> +<p>When the meal was over the old lady rose from +the table.</p> +<p>“Alice,” said she, “you stay right here. Sarah and +I’ll clear away. Prudence, my girl, just lie down and +get your rest. Maybe you’ll feel better later on. +Come along, Sarah; the young folks can get on +comfortably without us for once.”</p> +<p>Prudence made no attempt to do as her mother +suggested. She moved about the room, helping with +the work. Then the two old ladies adjourned to the +kitchen. Robb and Alice had moved over to the +well-worn sofa at the far end of the room, and +Prudence took up her position at the open window. +She seemed to have no thought of leaving the lovers +together; in fact, it seemed as though she had forgotten +their existence altogether. She stood staring +out over the little front garden with hard, unmeaning +eyes. From her expression it is doubtful if she saw +what her eyes looked upon. Her thoughts were +of other matters that concerned only herself and +another.</p> +<p>The low tones of the lovers sounded monotonously +through the room. They, too, were now wrapt in +their own concerns, and had forgotten the presence +of the girl at the window. They had so much to say +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +and so little time in which to say it; for Robb had +to make Ainsley that night.</p> +<p>The cool August evening was drawing on. The +threshing gang was returning from the fields, and the +purple haze of sundown was rising above the eastern +horizon; Prudence did not move. Her hands were +clasped before her; her pale face might have been +of carved stone. There was only the faintest sign +of life about her, and that was the steady rise and +fall of her bosom.</p> +<p>A cool breeze rustled in through the open +window and set the curtains moving. Then all +became still again. Two birds squabbled viciously +amongst the branches of a blue-gum in the little +patch of a garden, but Prudence’s gaze was still +directed towards the horizon. She saw nothing; she +felt nothing but the pain which her own thoughts +brought her.</p> +<p>Suddenly the sound of something moving outside +became audible. There was the noisy yawn of some +large animal rising from its rest. Then came the +slow, heavy patter of the creature’s feet. Neche +approached the window. His fierce-looking head +stood well above the sill. His greenish eyes looked +up solemnly at the still figure framed in the opening. +His ears twitched attentively. There was no friendly +motion of his straight, lank tail; but his appearance +was undoubtedly expressive of some sort of well-meaning, +canine regard. Whether the dog understood +and sympathized with the girl at the window +it would have taken something more than a keen +observer to have said. But in his strangely unyielding +fashion he was certainly struggling to convey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +something to this girl from whom he was accustomed +to receive nothing but kindness.</p> +<p>For some moments he stood thus, quite still. His +unkempt body rose and fell under his wiry coat. He +was a vast beast, and the wolf-grey and black of his +colouring was horribly suggestive of his ancestry. +Presently he lifted one great paw to the window. +Balancing his weight upon his only serviceable hind-leg, +he lifted himself and stood with both front feet +upon the sill, and pushed his nose against the girl’s +dress. She awoke from her reverie at the touch, and +her hands unclasped, and she slowly caressed the +bristly head. The animal seemed to appreciate the +attention, for, with his powerful paws, he drew himself +further into the room.</p> +<p>The girl offered no objection. She paid no heed +to what he was doing. Her hand merely rested on +his head, and she thought no more about him. Finding +himself unrebuffed Neche made further efforts; +then, suddenly, he became aware of the other +occupants of the room. Quick as a flash his nose +was directed towards the old sofa on which they were +seated, and his eyes, like two balls of phosphorescent +light, gleamed in their direction. He became motionless +at once. It seemed as though he were uncertain +of something.</p> +<p>He was inclined to resent the presence of these +two, but the caress of the soft, warm hand checked +any hostile demonstration beyond a whine, half +plaintive, half of anger.</p> +<p>The disturbing sound drew Alice’s attention, and +she looked over to where Prudence was standing; it +was then she encountered the unblinking stare of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +hound’s wicked eyes. The sight thrilled her for a +moment, nor could she repress a slight shudder. +She nudged her companion and drew his attention +without speaking. Robb followed the direction of +her gaze, and a silence followed whilst he surveyed +the strange apparition.</p> +<p>He could only see the dog’s head––the rest of the +creature was hidden behind the window curtain––and +its enormous size suggested the great body and +powerful limbs which remained concealed. To Robb +there was a suggestion of hell about the cruel lustre +of the relentless eyes.</p> +<p>At last he broke into a little nervous laugh.</p> +<p>“By Jove!” he said. “I thought for the moment +I’d got ’em. Gee-whizz! The brute looks like the +devil himself. What is it? Whose?”</p> +<p>Without replying, Alice called to her friend.</p> +<p>“Let Neche come in, Prue,” she said. “That is”––dubiously––“if +you think it’s safe.” Then she turned +to Robb. “He’s so savage that I’m afraid of him. +Still, with Prue here, I think he’ll be all right; he’s +devoted to her.”</p> +<p>At the sound of the girl’s voice Prudence turned +back from the window like one awakening from a +dream. Her eyes still had a far-away look in them, +and though she had heard the voice it seemed doubtful +as to whether she had taken the meaning of the +words. For a moment her eyes rested on Alice’s +face, then they drooped to the dog at her side, but +Alice was forced to repeat her question before the +other moved. Then, in silence, she stepped back and +summoned the dog to her with an encouraging chirrup. +Neche needed no second bidding. There was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +scramble and a scraping of sharp claws upon the +woodwork, then the animal stood in the room. And +his attitude as he eyed the two seated upon the sofa +said as plainly as possible, “Well, which one is it to +be first?”</p> +<p>Robb felt uneasy. Alice was decidedly alarmed at +the dog’s truculent appearance.</p> +<p>But the tension was relieved a moment later by the +brute’s own strange behaviour. Suddenly, without +the slightest warning, Neche plumped down upon his +hind-quarters. His pricked ears drooped, and his two +fore paws began to beat a sort of tattoo upon the +floor. Then followed a broken whine, tremulous and +blandishing, and the great head moved from side to +side with that curious movement which only dogs use +to express their gladness. Then the strange, three-legged +beast went further. Down he threw himself +full length upon the floor and grovelled effusively, +whining and scraping the boards in a perfect fervour +of abject delight.</p> +<p>Robb looked hard at the dog. Then he laughed +and turned to Alice.</p> +<p>“What is the creature’s name? I didn’t catch it.”</p> +<p>“Neche,” she replied.</p> +<p>Robb held out his hand encouragingly and called +the dog by name. The animal continued to squirm +but did not offer to come nearer. Every now and then +its head was turned back, and the green eyes looked +up into Prudence’s face. At last Robb ceased his +efforts. His blandishments were ineffectual beyond +increasing the dog’s effusive display.</p> +<p>“A husky,” he said, looking across at Prudence. +“A bad dog to have about the house. He reminds +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +me of the animals we had up north in our dog-train. +They’re devils to handle and as fierce as wild cats. +We had one just like him. Unusually big brute. He +was our ‘wheeler.’ The most vicious dog of the lot. +The resemblance is striking. By Jove!” he went on +reminiscently, “he was a sulky, cantankerous cuss. +His name was ‘Sitting Bull,’ after the renowned Sioux +Indian chief. We had to be very careful of the other +dogs on account of his ‘scrapping’ propensities. He +killed one poor beast I think we nicknamed him +rather appropriately. He was affectionately dubbed +‘Bully.’”</p> +<p>As Robb pronounced the name he held out his +hand again and flicked his fingers. The dog rose +from his grovelling posture and came eagerly forward, +wagging his lank tail. He rubbed his nose against +the man’s hand and slowly licked the sun-tanned skin.</p> +<p>Robb’s brows drew together in a pucker of deep +perplexity. He looked the animal over long and +earnestly, and slowly there crept into his eyes an +expression of wondering astonishment. He was interrupted +in his inspection by the girl at his side.</p> +<p>“Why, he’s treating you like an old friend, Robb.”</p> +<p>The man sat gazing down upon the wiry coat of +the beast.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said shortly. Then he looked over at +Prudence. “Yours?” he went on.</p> +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> +<p>“No, he belongs to Hervey.”</p> +<p>“Um! I wonder where he got him from,” in a +meditative tone.</p> +<p>“Somewhere out in the wilds of the Yukon,” put in +Alice.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></div> +<p>“Ah! The Yukon.” And Robb’s face was serious +as he turned towards the window and looked out at +the creeping shadows of evening.</p> +<p>There was a pause. Prudence was thinking of anything +but the subject of Robb’s inquiries. Alice was +curious, but she forbore to question. She had heard +her lover’s account of his misadventure in the Alaskan +hills, but she saw no connection between the hound +and that disastrous affair. But the man’s thoughts +were hard at work. Presently he rose to depart.</p> +<p>He bade Prudence good-bye and moved towards +the door. The dog remained where he had been +standing and looked after him. At the door Robb +hesitated, then he turned and looked back.</p> +<p>“Poor old Bully,” he said.</p> +<p>With a bound the dog was at his side. Then the +man turned away, and, accompanied by Alice, left the +room. In the passage he paused, and Alice saw an +expression on his face she had never seen before. He +was nervous and excited, and his eyes shone in the +half-light.</p> +<p>“Al,” he said slowly, “I know that dog. <i>And his +name is Bully</i>. Don’t say anything to anybody. +Hervey may be able to tell me something of those +who robbed us up in the hills. But on no account +must you say anything to him; leave it to me. I +shall come here again––soon. Good-bye, little woman.”</p> +<p>That evening as Robb Chillingwood rode back to +Ainsley he thought of many things, but chiefly he +reviewed the details of that last disastrous journey +when he and Grey had traversed the snow-fields of +Alaska together.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII_THE_LAST_OF_LONELY_RANCH' id='CHAPTER_XVII_THE_LAST_OF_LONELY_RANCH'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>THE LAST OF LONELY RANCH</h3> +</div> +<p>There are moments which come in all lives when +calm reflection is powerless to influence the individual +acts; when calmness, even in the most phlegmatic +natures, is impossible; when a tide of impulse sweeps +us on, giving us not even so much as a breathless, +momentary pause in which to consider the result of +our headlong career. We blunder on against every +jagged obstacle, lacerated and bleeding, jolting cruelly +from point to point, whither our passions irresistibly +drive us. It is a blind, reckless journey, from which +there is no escape when the tide sets in. We see our +goal ahead, and we fondly believe that because it is +ahead we must come to it. We do not consider the +awful road we travel, nor the gradual exhaustion +which is overtaking us. We do not realize that we +must fall by the wayside for lack of strength, nor +even, if our strength be sufficient to carry us on to the +end, do we ask ourselves, shall we be able to draw +aside out of the raging torrent when our goal is +reached? or shall we be swept on to the yawning +Beyond where, for evermore, we must continue to +struggle hopelessly to return? Once give passion +unchecked sway, and who can say what the end will be?</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></div> +<p>It was at such a moment in her life at which +Prudence had arrived. Her mind was set upon an +object which absorbed all her faculties, all her brain, +all her feelings. Had she been able to pause, even +for one moment, reason must have asserted itself and +she would have understood the folly of what she was +doing. But that moment was denied her. All the +latent passions of a strong nature had been let loose +and she was swept on by their irresistible tide. She +believed that she was the appointed avenger of the +man she had once loved, and that this duty unfulfilled +would be a crime, the stain of which nothing could +wipe out. Iredale must be confronted, challenged, +and–––</p> +<p>And so she came to Lonely Ranch on her self-imposed +errand of justice.</p> +<p>The man she sought was not in the house when she +came. The valley seemed to be devoid of life as +she rode up. But the solitude was almost instantly +broken by the appearance of Chintz from the region +of the barn. She dispatched him in search of his +master and passed into the bachelor sitting-room to +await his coming.</p> +<p>She was restless and her nerves were strung to a +great tension. Her eyes still shone with that peculiar +light which ever seemed to look out of her brother’s. +There was no yielding in the set of her mouth. +Her resolve disfigured the sweetness which usually +characterized her beautiful features.</p> +<p>She stood before the window, looking out upon the +shadow-bathed valley. She saw before her the dark +wall of foliage which rose to the heights of the Front +Hill. Not a living soul was about, only was there a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +rising wind which disturbed the unbroken forest of +pines. She turned abruptly from the view as though +she could not bear the solitude which was thus +made so apparent. She crossed over to where the +bookcase stood against the wall, and glanced in +through the glazed doors. But she comprehended +nothing of what she saw. She was thinking, thinking, +and her mind was in a tumult of hysterical fancies. +And she was listening too; listening for a sound––any +sound other than that which the wind made. +Mechanically she came over to the table and leant +against it in an attitude of abstraction. She shivered; +she stood up to steady herself and she shivered again. +And all the time the frenzied eyes gleamed in their +beautiful oval setting, the lips were drawn inwards, +and there remained only a sharply-defined line to +mark the sweet mouth. Presently her lips parted and +she moistened them with her tongue. A fever seemed +to be upon her, and mouth and throat were parched.</p> +<p>Suddenly the sound for which she waited came. +She darted eagerly to the window and saw Chintz +pass round in the direction of the barn. Then she +saw the burly figure of the man she was awaiting +appear in the clearing fronting the house.</p> +<p>George Iredale came along at a robust gait. He +was clad in moleskin riding-breeches, much stained +with clay, as though he had been digging; a soft shirt, +the sleeves of which were rolled up above the elbow; +his Stetson hat was adjusted at the correct angle +upon his head; and he wore a pair of tan-coloured +field boots, much smeared with the signs of toil. He +came rapidly towards the house. There was nothing +furtive, nothing guilty about this man’s bearing; he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +came readily to meet his visitor, and his appearance +was the confident bearing of a man who has little to +fear.</p> +<p>She saw him look towards the window where she +stood, and his smile of welcome set her nerves tingling +with a sensation she failed to understand. Her +hand went round to the pocket of her linen riding-skirt +and remained there. She heard his step in the +hall; she heard him approach and turn the door +handle. As he came into the room she faced him.</p> +<p>“Why, Prudence, this is a delightful–––” he began. +But she interrupted him coldly.</p> +<p>“One moment,” she said, and her voice was hoarse +with the dryness of her throat. “I have not come +over for any visit of pleasure, but strictly upon a +matter of––of––business. There are some explanations +which we both need to make, but more +especially you.”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>Iredale was gazing earnestly into the face before +him. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her +coldness. For the moment he wondered; then, +slowly, he began to understand that Hervey had been +at work.</p> +<p>“You got my note,” he said, choosing to ignore the +result of his observations. “My delay in calling at +the farm was unavoidable. I am in the midst of +disposing of my ranch. I had not expected that I +should have been called upon to do so so soon. I +beg that you will forgive me what must seem an +unwarrantable delay.”</p> +<p>Prudence’s nerves were so strung that she felt as +though she could strike him for his calm words. Her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +condition demanded the opposition of passion equal +to her own. His coolness maddened her. So long +had she dwelt upon the accusation Hervey had +brought against him that she believed in this man’s +guilt. The evidence of her own senses had militated +against him, and now she steeled herself in an armour +of unbelief. But, in spite of herself, the dictates of +her heart were struggling hard to find the joints of +her armour. Nor were the struggles lessened now +that she stood confronting him. His coolness, though +maddening to her, was not without effect. The +moral influence he wielded was great.</p> +<p>She backed to the table; then she plunged into +the subject of her mission without further preamble. +Her eyes stared straight into his, and her tones +sounded incisively in the stillness of the room.</p> +<p>“I little knew the man whom I was listening to +when he offered me his life, nor had I an idea of +how near I was to the man who inspired the words +which have appeared in the paper––the words which +were the last Leslie Grey ever uttered. What must +have been your feelings when I told you that I knew +their author to be a murderer?” Then, with scathing +bitterness: “But your feelings must have long since +been dead––dead as the poor creature you so wantonly +sent to his reckoning. The time has come for +you to defend yourself; that is, if defence you can +offer. No flimsy excuse or extenuation will cover +you. Even the Scriptures teach us that the penalty +is ‘a life for a life.’ Yours is the hand that struck +Leslie down, and now you must face the consequences +of your wanton act.”</p> +<p>Iredale’s quiet eyes never attempted to avoid the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +girl’s direct gaze, nor did he flinch as the accusation +fell from her lips. Never was he more alert, never +more gently disposed towards this half-demented +creature than at that moment. He recognized the +hand that had been at work, and he laid no blame +upon her. His feelings were of sorrow––sorrow for +the woman he loved, and sorrow for himself. But his +thoughts were chiefly for her. He knew, as she had +said, that his time had come.</p> +<p>“So Hervey has been to you to sell the discovery +which I rejected at the price he asked. He told you +that I was a smuggler; that the announcement in the +paper was mine. And did he tell you that I was the +murderer of Leslie Grey? Or did your heart prompt +you to that conclusion?”</p> +<p>The girl supported herself against the table with +one hand, and the other was still in the pocket behind +her. Iredale noted these things without moving his +eyes from her face.</p> +<p>“Hervey told me the facts and the inevitable proof +they bore. Nor was his statement exaggerated. My +own reason told me that.”</p> +<p>The man sighed. He had hoped that the work +had been only of the brother’s doings. He had +hoped that she had come bearing Hervey’s accusation +and not her own.</p> +<p>“Go on,” he said.</p> +<p>“I know you for what you really are, George +Iredale. And now I have come to you to give you +the chance of defending yourself. No man must be +condemned without a hearing. Neither shall you. +The evidence against you is overwhelming; I can see +no escape for you. But speak, if you have anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +to say in your defence, and I will listen. I charge +you with the murder of Leslie Grey.”</p> +<p>Just for one brief moment Iredale felt a shiver pass +through his body. The icy tones of the girl’s voice, +the seemingly dispassionate words filled him with a +horror unspeakable. Then he pulled himself together. +He was on his defence before the one person in the +world from whose condemnation he shrank. He did +not answer at once. He wished to make no mistake. +When at last he spoke his words came slowly as +though he weighed well each syllable before he gave +it utterance.</p> +<p>“With one exception all that Hervey has doubtless +said of me is true. I am a smuggler; I inspired that +line in the paper; but I am no––murderer. Leslie +Grey’s life was sacred to me at the time if only for +the reason that he was your affianced husband. I +loved you at that time as I have loved you for years, +and all my thoughts and wishes were for your happiness. +It would have made you happy to have married +Grey, therefore I wished that you should marry him. +I am quite unchanged. I will tell you now what +neither you nor Hervey knows, even though it makes +my case look blacker. I knew that Grey was on my +track. I knew that he had discovered my secret. +How he had done so I cannot say. He quarrelled +with me, and, in the heat of his anger, told me of his +intentions. It was late one night at a card-party at +your house, and just before he was so foully murdered. +No doubt you, or any right-minded person for that +matter, will say that this evidence only clinches the +case against me. But, in spite of it, I assert my +innocence. Amongst my many sins the crime Hervey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +charges me with”––he purposely avoided associating +the charge with her––“is not numbered. Can I hope +that you will believe me?”</p> +<p>The gentle tones in which the burly man spoke, the +earnest fearlessness which looked out from his quiet +eyes, gave infinite weight to all he said. Prudence +shook her head slowly, but the fire in her eyes was +less bright, and the voice of her own heart crying out +began to make itself heard in the midst of her chaotic +thought.</p> +<p>She tried to stiffen herself for the task she had +undertaken, but the result was not all she sought +Still, she replied coldly––</p> +<p>“How can I believe with all the black evidence +against you? You, in all this region, were the one +man interested in Leslie’s death. His life meant +penitentiary to you; his death meant liberty. Your +own words tell me that. How can I believe such a +denial as you now make? Tell me, have you no +proof to offer? Account for the day on which Leslie +met his death; prove your movements upon that +day.”</p> +<p>The girl’s denial of belief was belied by the eagerness +in her voice. For one brief instant a flash of +hope rose in her. She saw a loophole for her lover. +She longed to believe him. But the hope died down, +leaving her worse distracted for its coming.</p> +<p>For Iredale did not speak, and his face assumed a +look of gloom.</p> +<p>“Ah, you cannot––you cannot,” she went on +hysterically. “I might have known, I did know.” +A world of passion again leapt into her eyes. Then +something of the woman broke through her anger, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +and a heart-breaking piteousness sounded in her +voice. “Oh, why, why did you do this thing? Why +did you stain your hands with such a crime as murder? +What would his living have meant to you? At worst +the penitentiary. Was it worth it to destroy thus the +last chance of your immortal soul? Oh, God! And +to think of it! A murderer!” Then the fierce anger +became dominant once more. “But you shall not +escape. Your crime shall be expiated as far as +human crimes can be expiated. The gallows awaits +you, George Iredale, and your story shall be told to +the world. You shall hang unless you can give to +judge and jury a better denial than you have given to +me.” She suddenly broke off. A whistling indrawn +breath startled the man before her. She gazed round +her wildly; she had remembered what she had come +for. She had forgotten when she had talked of +“judge and jury.” Her face assumed a ghastly hue +at the recollection. Her eyes alone still told of the +madness that possessed her.</p> +<p>Nor was Iredale without an uneasy feeling at what +he saw––that catch of breath; that hunted look as +she gazed about the room. Intuition served him in +the moment of crisis. What was the meaning? Why +was that hand concealed in her dress? There was +only one possible answer to such questions, and he +read the answer aright.</p> +<p>“Prudence,” he said, in his deep musical voice, +whilst his keen eyes riveted her attention, “I can +prove my innocence of the crime you charge me with. +Listen to me patiently, and I will tell you how. Do +not let your anger drive you to any rash act which +might bring you––lifelong regret.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span></div> +<p>The girl made a sharp ejaculation. But she did +not attempt to interrupt him.</p> +<p>“I can prove that I was not within three hundred +miles of this place on the day of Leslie’s death,” the +man went on. “That I was in a city to the west +of here distributing”––bitterly––“my wares. I can +prove all this––to you. And I intend that before you +leave me to-day you shall be a witness to my innocence, +even against all prejudice. But before judge +and jury it will be different––very different.” He +sighed. “There I cannot prove my innocence, for to +do so would be to betray my comrades––those who +have traded with me and trusted me––and send them +to the penal servitude which also awaits me.” His +eyes had become reflective. He seemed to be talking +to himself now rather than to the woman before him. +“No, I cannot save myself at such a cost. Even +to escape the gallows I will not play the part of +Judas.”</p> +<p>The woman made no reply. She stood staring at +him with all that was best in her shining in her eyes. +She was trying to follow his every word and to take +his meaning, and the one thought which dominated +her whole mind was his expressed ability to prove his +innocence to her.</p> +<p>He seemed to awake from some melancholy reverie, +and again his eyes sought hers.</p> +<p>“Do you wish me to prove my innocence?”</p> +<p>“Yes; you must––you shall!”</p> +<p>The girl moved from the table; and, for the first +time during the interview, her hand was removed +from the pocket in her skirt. Hope filled the heart +in which but now the fires of hell had seemed to burn. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +She drank in his words with a soul-consuming thirst +The proof! That was what she required.</p> +<p>Iredale went on with grave gentleness.</p> +<p>“The proof is in here.” He moved to the bookcase +and opened a secret recess in the back of it, +“In this cupboard.”</p> +<p>He produced a pile of books and brought them to +the table. Picking out one he opened it at the date +of Grey’s death. It was a diary. He read out the +entries for the entire week, all of which bore out his +testimony. Every one was dated at a different town +or village, and related to his sales of opium. He then +opened another book and showed the entries of his +sales and the figures. He went through the whole +pile, book after book, and all of them bore out his +statement as to his whereabouts. Then he produced +several contracts; these were deeds between himself +and various traders, and were dated at the towns at +which they were signed. Each book and paper he +passed on to Prudence for her scrutiny, drawing her +attention to the corroboration in the evidence. There +could be no doubt as to the genuineness of these facts, +and the girl’s last shadowy doubts of his innocence +evaporated before the overwhelming detail. The +hope which had filled her heart was now replaced +by a triumphant joy. This man had shown her, had +convinced her, and she wanted nothing more at that +moment.</p> +<p>She looked up into his face, hoping to see a +reflection of her own happiness in it. But there +was no happiness there. His face was calm, but the +melancholy had deepened in his eyes. What she +saw came like an icy douche to her, and the happy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +expression died upon her lips. She suddenly remembered +that he had said he could not use this evidence +to publicly declare his innocence.</p> +<p>“But–––” she began.</p> +<p>He shook his head. He knew that she wished to +protest. For a moment they looked into each other’s +eyes. Then the woman, the weaker, broke down +under the strain. Tears came to her eyes, and she +poured out all the pent-up grief of her hours of misery.</p> +<p>“Oh, George,” she cried, “can you ever forgive +my wickedness? I ought never to have believed. +My heart told me that you were innocent; but the +evidence––oh, the evidence. I could see no loophole. +Everything pointed to you––you. And I, wretch that +I am, I believed.” And the girl sobbed as though +her heart would break. Iredale made no attempt to +soothe her; he felt that it would be good for her to +weep. She leant against the table, and after a while +her sobs quietened. Then the man touched her upon +the shoulder.</p> +<p>“Don’t cry, Prue; my heart bleeds for you when I +listen to your sobs. You’re not to blame for believing +me guilty. Twelve jurymen will shortly do the same, +and who can blame them?” He shrugged. “I must +face the ‘music’ and take my chance. And now, child,” +he added, his hand still resting upon her shoulder, and +smiling down upon her from his superior height, “give +me that which you have concealed in your pocket. +We will throw it away.”</p> +<p>Prudence sprang up and moved beyond his reach.</p> +<p>“No, no! I can’t! Don’t ask me. Spare me the +shame of it. As you love me, George, don’t ask me +for it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></div> +<p>“As you will, dear; I merely wished to rid ourselves +of an ugly presence. While we are together––and +it may not be for long now––nothing should +come between us, least of all that.”</p> +<p>The girl’s tears had dried. She looked over at her +lover. His compelling influence was upon her. She +paused irresolute; then she plunged her hand into +her pocket and drew forth a large revolver.</p> +<p>“Here, take it. Take it, and do what you like +with it” Then she laughed bitterly. “You know +me as I am now. I brought that to shoot you with, +and afterwards to shoot myself. You see, I am a +murderess at heart.” And she smiled bitterly.</p> +<p>Iredale took the weapon and placed it in his bookcase. +Then he came to the girl’s side and put his +arm tenderly about her shoulders.</p> +<p>“Forget it, child; forget it as you would a hideous +dream. Your feelings were forced upon you by––well, +through my wretched doings. That which I +have done to gain wealth has brought only what +might have been expected in its train. No work of +evil is without its sting, and, as is always the case, +that sting seeks out the most sensitive part of its +victim. The chastisement for my wrongdoing has +been inflicted with cruel cunning, for you, Prue, +have been made to suffer; thus is my punishment a +hundredfold greater.”</p> +<p>He drew her to him as he spoke, and gently +smoothed her dark hair. Under the influence of his +touch and the sound of his voice, the girl calmed. +She nestled close to his side, and for a moment +abandoned herself to the delight of being with him. +But her thoughts would not remain idle for long. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +Suddenly she released herself and moved to arm’s +length from him.</p> +<p>“George,” she said, in a tone of suppressed eagerness, +“they cannot try you for––for murder. You +will tell them. You will show them all––these. For +my sake, for the sake of all your friends, you will not +let them––condemn you. Oh, you can’t allow it. +Think,” she went on, more passionately; “no men +would willingly let you be declared guilty when they +know you to be innocent. It must not be.”</p> +<p>Iredale gave no outward sign. He had turned his +face away and was gazing in the direction of the +window. His reflective eyes looked out upon the +valley, but his resolve was written plainly in them.</p> +<p>“Do not tempt me, Prue,” he said quietly. “Were +I to do otherwise than I have resolved, and obtained +an acquittal thereby, I should live a life of utter +regret. I should despise myself; I should loathe my +own shadow. Nothing could be more revolting to +me than the man who plays the part of a traitor, and +were I that man life would be impossible to me. +Think of it only for one moment, sweetheart, and +your own good heart will tell you how impossible is +that which you ask me to do. It cannot be. All the +world would despise me. But even so, its utmost +execration would be nothing compared with my own +feelings at the thought that I had saved myself by +such methods.” He withdrew his hand from her +embrace. “No, when the time comes and I am +forced to stand my trial for Grey’s murder, I shall +face it. Nor shall I betray my friends by one single +word. And, too, when that time comes there will +not remain one single trace of the traffic which has +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +hitherto been part of my very existence. There shall +be no possible chance of discovery for those who have +trusted me. Your brother Hervey will never hold +his hand. I know that. I realized that when he left +me after seeking ‘blackmail.’ His vindictive nature +will see this through. And perhaps I would rather +have it so. It will then be settled once and for all. +I may get off, but I fear that it will be otherwise.”</p> +<p>At the mention of her brother’s name, Prudence +started, and the blood receded from her anxious face, +leaving it ghastly in its pallor. She had forgotten +that he was even now on his way to Winnipeg for the +express purpose of denouncing Iredale. For one +instant she shook like an aspen. Then she recovered +herself. What was to be done? She tried to think. +This matter of Hervey was of her doing. She had +driven him to it; urged him to it. Now she realized +the full horror of what her foolish credulity had led +her into. It had been in her power to stay his hand, +at least to draw his fangs. Now it was too late. +Suddenly she turned upon her lover in one final +appeal. At that moment it seemed the only chance +of saving him.</p> +<p>“George, there is a way out of it all; one last +resource if you will only listen to me. You love me +even in spite of the way I have wronged you. You +belong to me if only by reason of our love. You +have no right to throw your life away when you are +innocent. God knows I honour you for your decision +not to betray your companions. If it were possible, I +love you more than ever. But the sin would be as +great to throw your life away for such a shadow as it +would be to deliver your friends up to justice. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +can save yourself; you must. The border is near. +We are right on it. Surely the way you have brought +the Chinese into the country should provide an exit +for us. Oh, my poor love, will you not listen to me? +Will you not give me the life I crave? George, let +us go––together.”</p> +<p>Her words came passionately. She had stepped +forward and placed her two brown hands upon his +great shoulders, and her dark, earnest eyes gazed +lovingly up into his.</p> +<p>The temptation was a sore one, and the man found +it hard to resist. He experienced a sudden rush of +blood to the brain. His body seemed to be on fire. +He was pulsating with a mad passion. The thought +of what she suggested came near to overthrowing his +sternest resolve. To go with her. To have her evermore +by his side. The thought was maddening. +Surely he had never realized until that moment how +dearly he loved this woman. But his strong nature +came to his rescue in time. The passion had died +down as swiftly as it had risen and left him cold and +collected.</p> +<p>He gazed down into the brown eyes ever so kindly, +ever so lovingly; and his answer came in a tone so +gentle that the girl felt that whatever the future might +hold for them, this moment had been worth living for.</p> +<p>“No, no, sweetheart. Not flight, even though you +would be my companion. We love one another +dearly, and for that very fact I could never allow +myself to remain under this cloud. At all costs we +will have the matter cleared. I owe it to you, to those +at the farm, and to myself.”</p> +<p>The girl’s hands dropped to her sides and she turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +away. Then all the agony of her soul found vent in +one exclamation.</p> +<p>“Oh, God!” she cried. And with that last cry +came the revealing flash which answered the question +she had so repeatedly asked herself. She turned back +to her lover, and the agonized expression of her face +had changed, and in her eyes was the eager light of +excitement. Iredale saw the change, but did not +recognize its meaning. He felt that she must no +longer remain there.</p> +<p>“Child, I want you to go back to the farm and tell +them of the accusation that has been brought against +me. Tell them all the circumstances of it. Tell them +that I have clearly convinced you of my innocence; +but, as you love me, I charge you not to reveal the +manner in which it was done. Tell your mother that +I shall come over to-morrow, and she shall hear the +whole story from my own lips. I wish to do this +that she may hear my version before she reads of +what must happen in the papers. After that I shall +go into Winnipeg and set the law in motion. I will +clear myself or––otherwise. But on your honour you +must promise that all I have shown you to-day remains +a secret between us.”</p> +<p>Prudence listened intently to all he said, but a quiet +look of resolve slowly crept into her eyes.</p> +<p>“I promise,” she said, and Iredale thanked her with +a look.</p> +<p>There was the briefest of pauses; then she went on––</p> +<p>“On one condition.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>Iredale looked his surprise.</p> +<p>“Now you must hear me, George,” she went on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +eagerly. “You have charged me with this thing. +You must abide by my time. A day more or less +can make little difference to you.”</p> +<p>“But I wish to give myself up before others can +make the charge.”</p> +<p>“Just so. And in the meantime I want your +promise not to come to the farm until the”––she +paused to make a swift mental calculation––“day after +to-morrow at four o’clock in the afternoon.”</p> +<p>“Tell me your reason.”</p> +<p>“That is my own.” The girl was smiling now. +Then she again became excited. “Promise, promise, +promise! There is no time to lose. Even now I +fear we are too late.”</p> +<p>Iredale looked dubiously at her. Suddenly he saw +her face darken.</p> +<p>“Promise!” she demanded almost fiercely, “or I +will not abide by my promise to you.”</p> +<p>“I promise.”</p> +<p>An expression of relief came into Prudence’s eyes, and +she stepped towards him and looked up into his face.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, George, dearest.”</p> +<p>The man suddenly clasped her in a bear-like +embrace and rained passionate, burning kisses on +her upturned lips. Then quietly she released herself. +She stood away from him holding one of his great +hands in both of hers.</p> +<p>“Quick! Now my horse.”</p> +<p>Iredale departed, and Prudence was left alone. She +stood looking after him thinking, thinking.</p> +<p>“Can I do it?” she asked herself.</p> +<p>Damside City was the nearest telegraph station. +It lay nearly thirty-five miles due west of Owl Hoot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +It was merely a grain station for the district and in +no sense a village. She must make that point and so +intercept Hervey with a telegraphic message. It was +her one chance. In spite of her lover she would buy +Hervey’s silence, and trust to the future to set the +rest straight. She was strong and her horse was +good. She must reach the office before it was closed +at six o’clock that evening. She calculated it up; +she had just three hours in which to cover the distance. +She looked out of the window. The wind +was blowing from the east; that was good, it would +ease the horse. She looked up at the sky, there were +a few clouds scudding westwards.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ll do it,” she said at last, “if it kills poor +Kitty.”</p> +<p>A moment later Iredale returned with the mare. +The girl waited not a second. Her lover assisted her +into the saddle reluctantly. He did not approve this +sudden activity on the part of the girl. When she +had settled herself she bent down, and their lips met +in one long, passionate kiss.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, George.”</p> +<p>The man waved his adieu. His heart was too full +to speak. She swung her mare round and galloped +down the valley to the north. Her object was to +clear the valley and then turn off to the west on the +almost disused trail to Damside.</p> +<p>Iredale looked after her until the sound of the +mare’s hoofs died away in the distance. He was +filled with wonder at her strange request and her +hurried departure. But his speculations brought him +to no definite conclusions, and he turned abruptly and +called to his man, Chintz.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span></div> +<p>The man hurried from the stable.</p> +<p>“We have been a little delayed. Is everything +ready?” Iredale looked up at the sky, then down +at the grizzled face before him.</p> +<p>Chintz nodded.</p> +<p>“Good. Then get to work. Start the first fire +directly beyond the graveyard to the east. The wind +is getting up steadily. You are sure there are no +farms to the west of us, between here and Rosy +River?”</p> +<p>The man gave a negative shake of the head.</p> +<p>“That’s all right then. There will be no damage +done. And the river will cut the fire off. This time +to-morrow we shall be homeless wanderers, Chintz––you +and I.” And the smuggler laughed bitterly.</p> +<p>Then his laugh died out.</p> +<p>“Well, to work. Set the fires going.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_FOREST_DEMON_PURSUES' id='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_FOREST_DEMON_PURSUES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>THE FOREST DEMON PURSUES</h3> +</div> +<p>Prudence swung her mare out on to the overgrown +trail to Damside City. Kitty was a trim-built +little “broncho,” compact, well-ribbed, and with +powerful shoulders and chest. She was just the animal +to “stay” and travel fast. The road cut through the +heart of the Owl Hoot bush, and ran in a diagonal +direction, south-west towards the border. Then it +converged with the border trail which skirted the +great southern muskeg, and, passing through a broken, +stony country, went on to Damside.</p> +<p>The wind was rapidly freshening, and the scudding +clouds were quickly changing from white to grey, +which, to the girl’s practised mind, indicated an +immediate change of weather. But she thought little +of the matter beyond being thankful that the wind +was well behind her, she wished to travel fast, and a +“fair” wind is as necessary to the horseman, under +such circumstances, as it is to the mariner.</p> +<p>For a time the roughness of the road required her +attention. Kitty was surefooted, but the outstanding +roots with which her path was lined needed careful +negotiation. Presently the trail became wider and its +surface more even, and signs of recent usage became +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span> +apparent. The roots were worn down and the projecting +stones had been removed. Neither did it take +the girl long to decide whose servants had done these +things. On this obscure trail were to be seen many +signs of the traffic upon which the owner of Lonely +Ranch had been engaged. Now Prudence gave +Kitty her head, and the mare travelled at a great +pace.</p> +<p>The breeze had chastened the laden air of the pine +world. The redolent woods no longer scented the +air, which had in consequence become fresh and +bracing. For the moment the emergency of her +journey had dulled the girl’s sensibilities to her surroundings. +She looked out upon the beautiful tinted +world, but she heeded nothing of what her eyes +beheld. Her mind was set upon the object of her +journey, and her thoughts were centred round the +players in the drama of her life.</p> +<p>How different her life seemed to have suddenly +become from that which she had contemplated that +morning. A great triumphant joy was with her since +her lover had established his innocence to her. Her +troubles and anxieties were still many, and the least +thing might upset every hope she entertained, but +there was always with her the remembrance that +George Iredale was innocent, and in that thought she +felt a wonderful security. That he was a smuggler +was a matter of insignificance. She loved him too +well to let such knowledge narrow her estimation of +him. She was too essentially of the prairie to consider +so trifling a matter. Half the farmers in the +country were in the habit of breaking the Customs +regulations by cutting wood and hay on Government +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +lands without a permit, and even hauling these things +from across the border when such a course suited +them, and in every case it was “contraband”; but +they were thought no less of by their friends. Iredale +was no worse than they, in spite of the fact that his +offence carried with it a vastly heavier sentence.</p> +<p>But for the dread that she might be too late to +intercept her brother, Prudence would almost have +been happy as she raced along that westward-bound +trail. She knew her brother’s nature well. She knew +that he was vindictive, and no doubt her own treatment +of him had roused his ire and all the lower +instincts of his malignant nature; but she also knew +that he loved money––needed money. His greed for +gold was a gluttonous madness which he was incapable +of resisting, and he would sacrifice any personal +feeling provided the inducement were sufficiently +large. She meant that the inducement should be as +large as even he could wish, and she knew that in this +direction his ideas were extensive. Her one trouble, +the one thought which alarmed her, was the question +of time. If the office were closed when she arrived, +her journey would have been in vain, for the operator +lived in Ainsley and would have gone home; Hervey +would have arrived in Winnipeg, and, by the time the +office opened the following morning, the mischief +would have been done.</p> +<p>She flicked her mare with the end of her reins and +touched her flank with her heel. Kitty responded +with a forward bound. The increased speed was all +too slow for the rapid thought and deadly anxiety of +the girl, but she was too good a horsewoman to press +the willing beast beyond a rational gait.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span></div> +<p>The hardy mare “propped” jerkily as she passed +down the sharp side of a dried-out slough. She +plunged through a thicket of long grass, and a grey +cloud of mosquitoes rose and enveloped horse and +rider. The vicious insects settled like a grey cloth +upon the heated mare, and Prudence’s soft flesh was +punctured by hundreds of venomous needles at once. +The girl swept the insects from neck and face, heedless +of the torturing stings. The mare fretted and raced +up the opposite slope, while the girl leant forward in +her saddle and sought to relieve the staunch little +creature’s agony by sweeping the poisonous insects +from her steaming coat.</p> +<p>The mare pressed on. Suddenly she threw up her +head and snorted violently. Prudence was startled. +Something had distracted Kitty’s attention, and her +wide-set ears were cocked in alarm. Her nose was +held high, and again and again she snorted. In +consequence her pace was slackened and became +awkward. She no longer kept a straight line along +the trail, but moved from side to side in evident agitation. +Prudence was puzzled and endeavoured to +steady the creature. But Kitty was not to be easily +appeased. She rattled her bit and mouthed it +determinedly, grabbing at the side-bar with an evident +desire to secure it in her teeth. The girl kept a tight +rein and attempted to soothe her with the tender caress +of her hand; but her efforts were unavailing. The +ears were now turned backwards, and had assumed +that curiously vicious inclination which in a horse is +indicative of bad temper or equine terror. Kitty had +no vice in her, and Prudence quickly understood the +nature of her mare’s feelings.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span></div> +<p>The failure of her soothing efforts alarmed the girl. +She sat up and looked about her. In the dense forest +there seemed to be no unusual appearance. The trees +were waving and bending in the wind, and their +groanings had a sadly mournful effect, upon the scene, +but otherwise there was nothing strange to be +observed. The sky had assumed a leaden hue, and +in this direction the prospect was not alluring, but +the clouds were fairly high and there was no suggestion +of immediate storm.</p> +<p>Suddenly a couple of jack-rabbits darted across the +road. The mare “propped,” reared, and swung round +towards the trees. Prudence brought her up to her +work sharply. Then she saw that the rabbits were +racing on ahead, down the trail. For the moment her +patience gave way, and she dug her heel hard against +Kitty’s side and the mare plunged forward. But her +gait remained unsteady, and in her agitation she kept +changing her stride, and once even tripped and nearly +fell.</p> +<p>A coyote followed by his mate and two young ones +ran out on to the trail and raced along ahead of her. +They did not even turn their heads to look at her. +Further on a great timber-wolf appeared and trotted +along the edge of the woods, every now and then +turning its head furtively to glance back.</p> +<p>Then quite suddenly Prudence became conscious of +something unusual. She raised her face to the grey +vault of the sky and sniffed at the air. A pungent +scent was borne upon the wind. The odour of +resinous wood, so strong as to be sickly, came to her, +and its pungency was not the ordinary scent of the +forest about her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></div> +<p>Half-a-dozen kit-foxes dashed out on to the trail +and joined in the race, and the “yowl” of the prairie +dog warned her that other animals were about. +The resinous odour grew stronger every moment, and +at last Prudence detected the smell of smoke. She +turned her head and looked back; and behind her, +directly in her wake, she saw a thin grey haze which +the wind was sweeping along above the trees.</p> +<p>She drew her mare up to a stand, and as she sat +looking back, a deadly fear crept into her eyes. Kitty +resented the delay and reared and plunged in protest +The restraint maddened her. And all the time the +girl saw that the smoke haze was thickening, and some +strange distant sounds like the discharge of heavy +ordnance reached her.</p> +<p>The sweet oval face wore a strained expression; +her eyes were wide open and staring, and the fear +which looked out of them was fear of no ordinary +danger. She watched the dull haze as it thickened +and rolled on towards her. She saw it rise like great +steam-jets and wreath itself upwards as fresh volumes +displayed the lower strata. She saw the dull brown +tint creep into it as it densified, and she knew that <i>it +was smoke</i>. The rest needed no explanation beyond +the evidence of her senses. The sickly resinous smell +told her what had happened. The forest was on fire!</p> +<p>The thought found vent in a muttered exclamation. +Then came an afterthought––</p> +<p>“And the wind is blowing it straight along behind +me.”</p> +<p>For a moment she gazed about her wildly. She +looked to the right and left The forest walls were +impassable. She looked back along the trail. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +narrow ribbon-like space was filled with a fog of smoke +which was even now enveloping her. What should she +do? There was nothing for it but to go on. But the fire +must be travelling apace in the high wind. Still she +stood. It seemed as though for the moment her +faculties were paralyzed with the horror of her +discovery.</p> +<p>But at last she was moved to action. The mare +became troublesome. The girl could no longer keep her +still. The distracted animal humped her back and +began to show signs of “bucking.” Then came a rush +of animals along the trail; they came racing for dear +life, and their numbers were augmented from the +wooded depths which lined their route.</p> +<p>Antelope led the way; with heads thrown up and +antlers pressed low down upon their backs they +seemed to fly over the sandy soil. Then came the +“loping” dogs, coyotes, prairie wolves. Birds of all +sorts assembled in one long continuous flight. The +animal kingdom of that region of forest seemed to +have become united in their mutual terror––wolf and +hare, coyote and jack-rabbit, hawks and blackbird, +prairie chicken and grey-owl; all sworn enemies in +time of calm prosperity, but now, in their terror, +companions to the last. And all the time, in the +growing twilight of smoke, came the distant booming +as of the discharge of great cannon.</p> +<p>The girl leaned forward. She clapped her heel +hard against the mare’s side, and with a silent prayer +joined in the race for life.</p> +<p>She had no exact knowledge of how far these woods +extended, or where the break would come which should +cut off the fire. The wild beasts were speeding on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +down the trail, and, with the instinct of her prairie +world, she reasoned that in this direction alone must lie +safety.</p> +<p>The smoke grew denser and more choking. Her +eyes became sore. Under her she felt the mare +stretching herself to the utmost of her gait. She +came up with many of the racing denizens of the +forest, but they did not attempt to move off the +trail at her approach. They were beyond the fear of +human presence. A more terrible enemy was behind +them, pursuing with gigantic strides which demolished +space with incredible swiftness.</p> +<p>Every moment the air grew hotter in spite of the +mare’s best efforts, and Prudence knew that the fire +was gaining. Hill or dale made no difference now. +It must be on––on, or the devouring monster would +be upon them. Kitty never flagged, and with increasing +speed her footing became even more sure. A +loose line, with body bent well forward to ease the +animal, Prudence did all she knew to assist her willing +companion; but for every stride the faithful mare +took, she knew that the fire was gaining many yards.</p> +<p>The booming had increased to a steady roar, in the +midst of which the deep, thunderous detonations came +like the peals of a raging storm; the wind rushed +headlong forward, the fire bringing with it an almost +cyclonic sweep of heated air. The mighty forest +giants about her bent like reeds under the terrible +force, and shrieked aloud their fears at the coming +of the devouring demon.</p> +<p>The mare rushed down into a wide hollow. A +culvert bridged a reedy slough. The affrighted beast +raced across it. The stream of the animal world +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +swept on about her. She breasted the steep ascent +opposite, and Prudence was forced to draw rein. +She dared not allow the horse to race up such an +incline, even though the fire were within a quarter +of a mile of her; she would have been mad to exhaust +the faithful creature, which was now her only hope. +Even the poor forest creatures, mad as they were with +terror, slackened their gait.</p> +<p>At length the hilltop was gained, and a long descent +confronted them. Kitty showed no signs of exhaustion +yet, and faced her work amidst the rush of refugees +with all her original zest. Down into the valley they +tore, for the worst of all perils was in pursuit.</p> +<p>The valley stretched away far into the distance; +ahead, here, in this hollow, the air was clearer. The +hill had shut off the fog of smoke for the moment +The refugees now had a smooth run, and a faint +glimmer of hope gladdened the heart of the girl.</p> +<p>Without slackening her speed, she looked back at +the hill, fearing to see the ruthless flames dart up over +the path which her mare’s feet had so recently trodden. +But the flames had not yet reached the brow, and she +sighed her satisfaction. The smoke was pouring over +the tree-tops, and, circling and rolling in a tangled +mass, was creeping down in her wake, but as yet there +were no flames. She looked this way and that at the +dark green of the endless woods, the gracious fields +of bending pines. She thought of the beauty which +must so soon pass away, leaving behind it only the +charred skeletons, the barren, leafless trunks, which +for years would remain to mark the cruel path of +flame.</p> +<p>Suddenly the roar, which had partly died away into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +a vague distant murmur beyond the hill, burst out +again with redoubled fury. Again she looked round, +and the meaning was made plain to her. She saw the +yellow fringe of flame as it came dancing, chaotic, a +tattered ribbon of light upon the brow of the hill; she +saw the dense pall of smoke hovering high above it +like the threat of some dreadful doom. The black of +the forest upon the summit remained for a second, +then over swept the red-gold fire, absorbing all, devouring +all, in an almost torrential rush down to the woods +below.</p> +<p>And now she beheld a sea of living fire as the hills +blazed before her eyes. It was as though the whole +place had been lit at one touch. The sea rolled on +with incredible swiftness, as the tongues of flame licked +up the inflammable objects they encountered. The +efforts of her mare became puerile in comparison with +the fearful pace of the flames. How could she hope +to outstrip such awful speed?</p> +<p>On, on raced the mare, and on came the molten +torrent. Now the heat was intolerable. The girl leant +limply over her faithful horse’s neck; she was dizzy +and confused. Every blast of the wind burnt her more +fiercely as the fire drew nearer. She felt how utterly +hopeless were her horse’s efforts.</p> +<p>The mare faltered in her stride; it was her first +trip. The girl shrieked wildly. She screamed at the +top of her voice like one demented. Her nerves were +failing, and hysteria gripped her. Kitty redoubled +her efforts. The fear of the fire was aggravated by +the girl’s wild cries, and she stretched herself as she +had never done before.</p> +<p>Now it seemed as though they were racing in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +heart of a furnace. The whole country was in flames, +and the roar and crashing of falling timber was incessant, +and the yellow glow was everywhere––even +ahead.</p> +<p>Blinded, dazed, the girl was borne on by the faithful +Kitty. She no longer thought of what was so near +behind her. What little reason was left to her she +centred upon keeping her seat in the saddle. An +awful faintness was upon her, and everything about +her seemed distant.</p> +<p>Kitty alone fought out the battle of that ride; her +mistress was beyond all but keeping upon the faithful +animal’s back. Had she been less exhausted, the girl +would have seen what the mare saw. She would have +seen the broad stream of the Rosy river ahead, and +less than a quarter of a mile away. But she saw +nothing; she felt nothing; she cared for nothing but +her hold upon the saddle. Thus it was that when she +came to the riverside, and the mare plunged from the +steep bank into the deep, quick-flowing stream, she +knew not what had happened, but, with a strange +tenacity, she held to the pummels of her saddle, while +her loyal friend breasted the waters.</p> +<p>How they got out of the river Prudence never knew, +nor did she fully realize all that had happened when +at last the horse and rider again stood on firm ground. +And the tough little broncho had covered another +mile or more before the girl awoke to the fact that +they were now in an open prairie country, and skirting +the brink of the great southern muskeg. Then it all +came back to her, and, as Kitty kept steadily on, she +looked fearfully about her. She saw away in the +distance the awful pall, the lurid gleam of the flames; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span> +and a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving went up from +that lonely trail for the merciful escape which had +been hers. The girl leant over her mare’s shoulder +and caressed the foaming neck.</p> +<p>“Good Kitty, faithful little mare,” she exclaimed +emotionally. Then she looked ahead and she remembered +all. “But on, girl, on. There is more +to do yet.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The telegraph operator at Damside was closing +up his little shack. He had just disconnected his +instrument and was standing in his doorway gazing +out across the prairie to the east, watching the vast +clouds of smoke belching from the direction of the +woods. All about him was a heavy haze, and a +nasty taste of smoke was in his mouth. He looked +across to the only other buildings which formed the +city of Damside, the grain elevator and the railway +siding buildings. His own hut was close beside the +latter. The men were leaving their work. Then +presently he looked back in the direction of the +distant fire.</p> +<p>“’Tain’t the prairie,” he muttered. “Too thick. +Guess the woods are blazin’. That’s beyond the Rosy. +Can’t cross there, so I reckon there’s no danger to +us. The air do stink here; guess I’ll go and git +my hand-car and vamoose.”</p> +<p>He turned back to the room and put on his hat. +Just as he left his doorway to pass over to where his +hand-car was standing on the railway track, he brought +up to a halt A horse and rider were racing up the +trail towards him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span></div> +<p>“Hullo, what’s this?” he exclaimed sharply. +“Maybe it <i>is</i> the prairie.”</p> +<p>Prudence drew rein beside him. She had seen her +man, and she knew that she was in time. Her joy +was written in her face.</p> +<p>“My, but I’ve had a time,” she exclaimed, as she +slid down from her saddle. “I thought that fire had +got me. Call up Winnipeg, please, Mr. Frances.”</p> +<p>“Why, Miss Mailing, have you ridden through +that?” asked the operator, pointing to the distant +smoke.</p> +<p>“Not through it, but with it distinctly hot upon my +heels––or rather my mare’s,” the girl laughed. “But +I want you to send a message for me. It isn’t too +late for Winnipeg?”</p> +<p>“Late, bless you, no. But what is it? Prairie or +forest?”</p> +<p>“Forest,” replied the girl shortly. “Where’s a +form?”</p> +<p>They passed into the hut. Prudence proceeded to +write out her message while the man connected up +Winnipeg and carried on a short conversation.</p> +<p>“Bad fire,” he said.</p> +<p>“Very.”</p> +<p>Prudence began to write.</p> +<p>“Just where?”</p> +<p>“Owl Hoot.”</p> +<p>“River’ll stop it”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Good.”</p> +<p>Prudence went on writing.</p> +<p>“Iredale’s ranch burnt out?”</p> +<p>The girl started.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span></div> +<p>“Don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Must be.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Then: “Here you are; and do you mind +if I wait for an answer?”</p> +<p>“Pleasure.” And the man read the message––</p> +<blockquote> +<p class='lalign'>“To Hervey Malling, Northern Union Hotel,<br /> +Winnipeg.</p> +<p>“Return at once. Money awaiting you. Willing +to pay the price on your arrival. Do not fail to return +at once. The other matter can rest.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“<span class='smcap'>Prudence</span>.”<span class='rindent2'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The operator tapped away at the instrument.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Hervey was sitting in the Northern Union Hotel +smoking-room. He was talking to a burly man, with +a red face and a shock of ginger-grey hair. This was +the proprietor of the hotel.</p> +<p>“How long can you give me? I can settle everything +by this day month. The harvesting is just +finished. I only need time to haul the grain to the +elevator. Will that satisfy you?”</p> +<p>The big man shrugged.</p> +<p>“You’ve put me off so often, Mr. Malling. It’s not +business, and you know it,” he replied gutturally. +“Will you give me an order on––your crop?”</p> +<p>He looked squarely into the other’s face. Hervey +hesitated. He knew that he could not do this, and +yet he was sorely pressed for money. However, he +made up his mind to take the risk. He thought his +mother would not go back on him.</p> +<p>“Very well.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span></div> +<p>He turned as the bell-boy approached.</p> +<p>“Telegram for you, sir; ‘expressed.’”</p> +<p>Hervey took the envelope and tore it open. He +read his sister’s message, and a world of relief and +triumph lit up his face.</p> +<p>“Good,” he muttered. Then he passed it to his +companion. “Read that. Do you still need a +mortgage? I shall set out to-night.”</p> +<p>The hotel proprietor read the message, and a +satisfied smile spread over his face. It did not do +for him to press his customers too hard. But still +he was a business man. He, too, felt relieved.</p> +<p>“This relates to–––?”</p> +<p>“An ouylying farm of mine which I have now sold.”</p> +<p>“Your promise will be sufficient, Mr. Malling. I +thought we should find an amicable settlement for our +difficulty. You start to-night?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX_THE_AVENGER' id='CHAPTER_XIX_THE_AVENGER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>THE AVENGER</h3> +</div> +<p>Alice was standing at the gate of the little front +garden. She was talking to her lover, who had just +ridden up from the direction of Owl Hoot. Robb +had not dismounted, and his face was very serious +as he leant down towards her.</p> +<p>“And I never knew a word about it. It’s a jolly +good thing I obtained the delivery of his bunch of +cattle when I did, or goodness knows what would +have happened. Well, anyhow I’ve lost a nice lump. +My client, when he heard about the place being for +sale, wanted to buy it for a back country for his +beeves to winter in. Just my confounded luck. I knew +there was a big fire out this way, but I never thought +that Iredale was the unfortunate victim. Now I’ve +got to go over to Lakeville to see him––he’s staying +there, you know, since he was burnt out. I’ll come +back this way, and if Mrs Malling can put me up +for the night, I’ll be grateful. My ‘plug’ won’t stand +the journey back home. You say Hervey will be +along this evening?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied the girl Then seriously, “What +are you going to do?”</p> +<p>“Interview him. There are things about that dog +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +that want explaining. I take it he can explain ’em. +I don’t easily forget. And I owe some one a deal +more than I’ve yet been able to pay. P’r’aps that +dog’ll help me to discharge my debt. Good-bye, Al; +I must be off or I shan’t get back this afternoon.”</p> +<p>Robb turned away in his cheerful, debonair +manner and rode off. Troubles sat lightly on his +stout heart. His effervescent nature never left him +long depressed when Fortune played her freakish +tricks upon him. He had lost his commission upon +the sale of Iredale’s land, but he had secured the +better deal of the cattle. Therefore he was satisfied. +But Robb was a very persistent man in his seemingly +haphazard fashion. He had promised himself an +interview with Hervey about his dog. He had never +forgotten or forgiven the disaster in the mountains, +and he believed that Hervey would be able to set +him on the track of Zachary Smith, whom he felt +certain he had seen at the Winnipeg depôt. He +hoped so; and, for this purpose, he intended to spend +the night at Loon Dyke Farm.</p> +<p>As her lover rode away Alice turned back to the +house. The anxious look was still upon her face. +She knew that there was serious trouble in the family, +and she could see no way of helping these people she +loved. Prudence was in sad disgrace with her +mother; she had been absent from the farm for +two days and had only returned that morning. Mrs. +Malling had been distracted with anxiety and grief +until the re-appearance of her daughter, and then, +when she saw that she was well and that no accident +had happened to her, she had flown into such a +terrible passion that even Prudence had quailed before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span> +her. Never in her life had Alice seen the kindly +old soul give way to such rage. No disparaging +epithet had been too bad for her child, and she had +literally chased the girl from the room in which they +had met. Since then Prudence had retreated to her +bedroom, and Hephzibah had poured out the vials +of her wrath upon an empty kitchen, for even the +long-suffering hired girl had feared to face her.</p> +<p>Now, as Alice approached the front door again, +she heard the sound of high-pitched voices coming +from the kitchen. Sarah Gurridge had come over +while the farm-wife’s rage was at its height; and, as +Alice listened, she thought that these two old cronies +were quarrelling. But her ears quickly told her that +her surmise was wrong. She heard Prudence’s voice +raised in angry protest, and, instead of entering the +house, she discreetly withdrew, passing round to the +farmyard instead.</p> +<p>In the kitchen a stormy scene was being enacted.</p> +<p>Prudence was standing just inside the door. Her +mother was beside a long table on which were laid +out the necessaries for pastry-making. She had +faced round upon the girl and stood brandishing a +rolling-pin in one hand, and in the other she held +a small basket of eggs. Sarah was seated in a high-backed +Windsor chair. Her arms were folded across +her waist, and her face expressed perplexed alarm. +Prudence’s face was aflame; nor were her eyes one +whit less angry than her mother’s.</p> +<p>“But I say you shall hear me, mother, whether +you like it or not. I’ll not let you or any one else +call me the filth which you did this morning for +nothing.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span></div> +<p>The girl’s voice was hoarse with nervous feeling, +Mrs Mailing shook her rolling-pin in a perfect fury.</p> +<p>“Out of this kitchen, you baggage! Out of it, do +you hear me? Go an’ get your garments packed up, +and out ye go into the street. Child o’ my flesh, are +ye? Out of my house, you drab, or maybe I’ll be +doing you a harm. I’ll teach the like o’ you to be +stoppin’ out o’ nights an’ then to come back wi’out +a word of explainin’. I’ll teach you.”</p> +<p>“Give the child a hearing, Hephzibah,” said Sarah, +in her soft even tones, as there came a lull in the +angry mother’s tirade.</p> +<p>Prudence shot a grateful glance in her preceptor’s +direction.</p> +<p>Hephzibah turned swiftly on the peaceful Sarah. +But the words of anger which hovered upon her +lips remained unspoken. Sarah was an influence in +the old lady’s life, and long association was not +without effect. She visibly calmed. Prudence saw +the change and took advantage of it.</p> +<p>“How could I explain when you wouldn’t listen +to me?” she exclaimed resentfully. “Almost before +I could say a word you called me all the shameful +things you could think of. You drove me to silence +when I was willing to tell you all––I was more than +willing. You <i>must</i> know all, for the story I have to +tell as nearly affects you as it does me. I stayed +away from home to save an innocent man from the +dreadful charge of murder, and your son from perpetrating +the most wanton act of his worthless life.”</p> +<p>A dead silence followed her words. Hephzibah +stared at her with an expression of stupefied amazement, +while Sarah turned in her chair with a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +movement which was almost a jolt. The silence +was at last broken by the girl’s mother.</p> +<p>“Murder? Hervey?”</p> +<p>And there was no understanding in her tone. +Her mind seemed to be groping blindly, and she +merely repeated the two words which struck her +most forcibly.</p> +<p>“Yes, ‘murder’ and ‘Hervey,’” Prudence retorted. +“Hervey has accused George Iredale of the murder +of Leslie Grey. Now will you listen to my +explanation?”</p> +<p>Hephzibah precipitated herself into a chair. The +rolling-pin was returned to its place upon the dough-board +with a clatter, and the basket of eggs was set +down with a force that sorely jeopardized its contents.</p> +<p>“Yes, girl. Tell me all. Let me hear what devil’s +work my Hervey’s been up to. La sakes! an’ +George Iredale a murderer!”</p> +<p>And Prudence, her anger evaporated as swiftly as +her mother’s, told the two old ladies of her love for +Iredale, and how he had asked her to be his wife. +She told them how Hervey had come to her with the +story of his discovery; how, after attempting to +blackmail his victim, he had offered his information to +her at a price. How she forced him to prove his +case, and had sent him to Winnipeg with that object; +how she had been nearly distracted, and eventually +made up her mind to go and see Iredale himself; +how the accused man had established to her his +innocence beyond any doubt, and how he had shown +her how impossible it would be for him to use the +same means of clearing himself in a court of law. +She dwelt upon each point, so that these two, who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +were so dear to her, should not fail to understand as +she understood. Then she told them how, recognizing +George’s danger, she had resolved to intercept +Hervey, and, with her mother’s assistance, pay him +off; and, finally, how she had been overtaken by the +forest fire; and how, her mare exhausted, she had +arrived at Damside in time to send her message to +her brother; and how, failing any other means of +returning home, she had taken shelter with the +elevator clerk’s wife until her mare had recovered and +she was able to resume her journey to the farm.</p> +<p>It was a long story, and the many interruptions of +her mother gave the girl much extra trouble in the +telling; but with a wonderful patience, born of her +anxiety for her lover, she dealt with every little +point that puzzled her audience.</p> +<p>When the story was finished its effect was made +curiously manifest. The one thing which seemed to +have gripped her mother’s intensest feeling was the +part her boy had played. Her round eyes had grown +stern, and her comely lips had parted as her breath +came heavy and fast. At last she burst out with a +curious mixture of anger and sorrow in her words.</p> +<p>“Bone of my Silas; flesh of my flesh; an’ to think +o’ the like. My Hervey a whelp of hell; a bloodsucker. +Oh, that I should ha’ lived to see such a +day,” and she rocked herself, with her hand supporting +her head and her elbows planted upon her knees. +“Oh, them travellin’s in foreign parts. My poor, +poor Silas; if he’d jest lived long ’nough to git around +our boy with a horsewhip we might ha’ been spared +this disgrace. Prudence, girl, I’m that sorry for what +I’ve said to you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span></div> +<p>Tears welled in the old eyes, which had now become +very wistful, and slowly rolled down the plump +cheeks. Suddenly she gathered up her apron and +flung it up over her head, and the rocking continued +dismally. Prudence came over to her and knelt at +her side, caressing her stout figure in sympathy. +Sarah sat looking away towards the window with +dreamy eyes. The old school-mistress made no +comment; she was thinking deeply.</p> +<p>“Don’t cry, mother,” said Prudence, with an +ominous catch in her voice. “Whatever Hervey’s +faults, he will reap his own punishment. I want you +to help me now, dear. I want you to give me the +benefit of your experience and your sound, practical +sense. I must see this through. I have a wicked +brother and an obstinate lover to deal with, and I +want you to help me, and tell me what is best to +do.”</p> +<p>The apron was removed from Mrs. Malling’s head, +and her eyes, red and watery, looked at the girl at +her side with a world of love in their depths.</p> +<p>“These two men will be here this afternoon,” the +girl went on. “George is coming to tell you his story +himself, that you may judge him. He declares that, +come what may, he will not rest with this shadow +upon him. In justice to us, his friends, and to himself, +he must face the consequences of his years of +wrongdoing. Hervey will be here for his money. +This is the position; and, according to my reckoning, +they will arrive at about the same time. I don’t +quite know why, but I want to confront Hervey with +the man he accuses. Now tell me what you think.”</p> +<p>“I’m thinking you make the third of a pack of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +fool-heads,” said the farm-wife gently. “George is +no murderer, he’s not the killin’ sort. He’s a man, he +is. Then why worrit? An’ say, if that boy o’ mine +comes along he’ll learn that them Ar’tic goldfields is +a cooler place for his likes than his mother’s farm.” +The old woman’s choler was rising again with +tempestuous suddenness. “Say, he’s worse’n a skunk, +and a sight more dangerous than a Greaser. My, +but he’ll learn somethin’ from them as can teach +him!”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother,” replied the girl, a little impatiently; +“but you don’t seem to see the seriousness of what +he charges–––”</p> +<p>“That I do, miss. Am I wantin’ in understandin’? +George is as innocent as an unborn babe, so what’s +the odds along o’ Hervey’s accusin’? It don’t amount +to a heap o’ corn shucks. That boy ain’t responsible, +I tell ye. He’s like to get locked up himself in a +luny ’sylum. I’ll give him accusin’!”</p> +<p>“But, mother, that won’t do any good. He must +be paid off.”</p> +<p>“An’ so he shall––and so he shall, child. There’s +more dollars in this farm than he reckons on, and +they’re ready for usin’ when I say the word. If it’s +pay that’s needed, he shall be paid, though I ain’t +just understandin’ the need.”</p> +<p>Sarah’s voice broke in at this point.</p> +<p>“The child’s right, Hephzibah; there’s money to be +spent over this thing, or I’m no judge of human +nature. Hervey’s got a strong case, and, from what +the story tells us, George is a doomed man if he goes +before the court. Innocent he may be––innocent he +is, I’ll wager; but if he’s obstinate he’s done for.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span></div> +<p>The farm-wife made no reply, but sat gazing +wistfully before her.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” Prudence said earnestly. “It is just +the money––nothing more. We must not let an +innocent man suffer. And, ‘Aunt’ Sarah, we must +prevail upon George to let us stop Hervey’s mouth. +That is our chief difficulty. You will help me––you +and mother. You are so clever, ‘Aunt’ Sarah. +George will listen to you. Oh, we must––must save +him, even against himself.”</p> +<p>Sarah nodded her head sagely; she was deeply +affected by all she had heard, but she gave no outward +sign.</p> +<p>“Child,” she replied, “we will all do our best––for +him––for you; but yours is the tongue that will +persuade him best. He loves you, child, and you love +him. He will not persist, if you are set against it.”</p> +<p>“I hope it will be as you say,” replied Prudence +dubiously. “But when he comes you will let him +tell his story in his own way. You will listen patiently +to him. Then you can laugh at his determination +and bring your arguments to bear. Then we will +keep him until Hervey arrives, and we will settle the +matter for ever. Oh, mother, I dread what is to +come.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Mailing did not seem to be paying much heed, +but, as the girl moved away from her side, she spoke. +There was no grief, no anger in her voice now. She +spoke quite coldly, and Sarah Gurridge looked keenly +over at her.</p> +<p>“Yes, girl, we’ll settle this rumpus, and––Hervey.”</p> +<p>Prudence moved towards the door. She turned at +her mother’s words.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span></div> +<p>“I will go up-stairs,” she said. “I want to think.”</p> +<p>She opened the door and nearly fell against the +dog Neche, who was standing outside it. There was +a fanciful suggestion of the eavesdropper about the +creature; his attitude was almost furtive. He moved +slowly away, and walked with the girl to the foot of +the stairs, where he laid himself down with a complacent +grunt. The girl went up to her room.</p> +<p>“This day’s doin’s will be writ on my heart for +ever,” said the farm-wife plaintively, as the door closed +behind her daughter.</p> +<p>“An’ see you, Hephzibah, and let no eyes read of +them, for there will be little credit for anyone in those +same doings,” said Sarah solemnly.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling hugged herself, and again began to +rock slowly. But there were no signs of tears in her +round, dark eyes. Now and again her lips moved, +and occasionally she muttered to herself. Sarah +heard the name “Hervey” pass her lips once or twice, +and she knew that her old friend had been sorely +stricken.</p> +<p>As the time for Iredale’s arrival drew near, Prudence +became restless. Her day had been spent in idleness +as far as her farm work was concerned. She had +chosen the companionship of Alice, and had unburdened +her heart to her. But sympathetic and +practical as her friend was, she was quite unable to +help her.</p> +<p>As four o’clock drew near, however, Alice did the +only thing possible. She took herself off for a walk +down the Lakeville trail. She felt that it was better +for everybody that she should be away while the +trouble was on, and, besides, she would meet her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span> +lover on his way to the farm, and give him timely +warning against making his meditated stay for the +night.</p> +<p>At the appointed hour there came the clatter of a +pacer’s hoofs at the front gate, and a moment later +Prudence led her lover into the parlour. After a few +brief words she hurriedly departed to summon her +mother and Sarah. There was a significant solemnity +in this assembling; nor was it lessened by the smuggler’s +manner. Even the wolfish Neche seemed +impressed with what was happening, for he clung to +the girl’s heels, following her wherever she went, and +finally laid down upon the trailing portion of her +skirt when she took up her position beside her lover +and waited for him to begin.</p> +<p>The opening was a painful one for everybody. +Iredale scarcely knew how to face those gentle folk +and recount his disgraceful story. He thought of +all they had been to him during his long years upon +the prairie. He thought of their implicit trust and +faith in him. He almost quailed before the steady, +honest eyes of the old people. However, he at last +forced himself to his task, and plunged into his story +with uncompromising bluntness.</p> +<p>“I am accused of murder,” he said, and paused, +while a sickly feeling pervaded his stomach.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling nodded her head. She was too open +to remain silent long.</p> +<p>“Of Leslie Grey,” she said at once. “And ye +needn’t to tell us nothin’ more, George. We know +the yarn you are about to tell us. An’ d’ye think +we’re goin’ to believe any addle-pated scalliwag such +as my Hervey, agin’ you? Smuggler you may be, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span> +but that you’ve sunk to killin’ human flesh not even +a minister o’ the Gospel’s goin’ to convince me. Here, +I respects the man I give my hand to. Shake me by +the hand, George––shake me by the hand.” And the +farm-wife rose from her chair and ambled across the +room with her hand outstretched.</p> +<p>Iredale clasped it in both of his. And never in his +life had he experienced such a burst of thankfulness +as he did at that moment. His heart was too full to +speak. Prudence smiled gravely as she watched this +whole-hearted token of her mother’s loyalty to a +friend. Nor was Sarah backward in her expression of +goodwill.</p> +<p>“Hephzibah’s right, George, and she speaks for +both of us. But there’s work to be done for all that. +Hervey’s to be dealt with.”</p> +<p>“To be bribed,” said Hephzibah uncompromisingly, +as she returned to her seat.</p> +<p>Iredale shook his head and his face set sternly. +Prudence saw the look she feared creep into her +lover’s eyes. She opened her lips to protest, but the +words remained unspoken. She had heard the rattle +of a buckboard outside. The sound died away, and +she knew that the vehicle had passed round to the +barn. She waited in an agony of suspense for her +brother’s appearance.</p> +<p>“You needn’t to shake your head,” went on the +farm-wife. “This matter’s my concern. It’s my +dollars as is goin’ to pay Master Hervey––an’ +when he gets ’em may they blister his fingers, I sez.”</p> +<p>Prudence heard a footstep in the hall. The crucial +moment had arrived, and her heart palpitated with +nervous apprehension. Before Iredale could reply the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +door was flung open, and Hervey stood in their midst. +Instantly every eye was turned upon him. He stood +for a moment and looked round. There was a slight +unsteadiness in his attitude. His great eyes looked +wilder than ever, and they were curiously bloodshot. +At least one of the three ladies possessed an observant +mind. Sarah saw that the man had been drinking. +To her the signs, though slight, were unmistakable. +The others did not seem to notice his condition.</p> +<p>“Ah,” he said, with an attempt at pleasantry, “a +nice little party. Well, I’ve come for the dibs.”</p> +<p>His eyes lit upon the figure of George Iredale, and +he broke off. The next moment he went on angrily––</p> +<p>“What’s that man doing in this house?” he cried, +his eyes fairly blazing with sudden rage. “Is the place +turned into a refuge for––murderers?”</p> +<p>The man’s fury had set fire to the powder train. +His mother was on her feet in a twinkling. Her +comfortable body fairly shook in her indignation. +Her face was a flaming scarlet, and her round eyes +sparkled wickedly.</p> +<p>“And who be you to question the calling of my +house, Hervey Malling?” she cried; “since when +comes it that you’ve the right to raise your voice +against my guests? An’ by what right d’ye dare to +accuse an innocent man? Answer me, you imp of +Evil,” she demanded. But she gave him no time to +speak, and went on, her voice rising to a piercing +crescendo. “Spare your wicked tongue, which should +be forked by reason of the lies as has fallen from it. +Oh, that you should be able to call me ‘mother.’ I’d +rather mother the offspring of a rattlesnake than you. +What have you done by us all your life but bring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span> +sorrow an’ trouble upon those who’ve done all that +which in them is to help you? Coward! Traitor! +An’ you come now with lies on your tongue to harm +an innocent man what’s done you no harm.” She +breathed hard. Then her wrath swept on, and the +room rang with the piercing pitch of her voice. +“You’ve come for your blood-money––your thirty +pieces. You villain; if your poor father were alive +this day he should lay a raw hide about you till +your bones were flayed. Sakes! I’ve a mind to set +about you myself. Look at him, the black-heart! +Look at him all! Was ever such filth of a man? and +him my son. Blood-money! Blood-money! And +to think that I’m living to know it.”</p> +<p>She paused. Hervey broke in––</p> +<p>“Silence, you old fool! You don’t know what +you’re talking about. That man,” pointing over at +Iredale, who sat waiting for an opportunity to interfere, +“is the murderer of Leslie Grey. I suppose he +has been priming you with blarney and yarns. But +I tell you he murdered Grey. I’m not here for any +tomfoolery. I got Prudence’s message to say the +money was forthcoming. Where is it? Fifteen +thousand dollars buys me, and that I want at once. +If I have any more yapping I’ll make it twenty +thousand.”</p> +<p>He looked about him savagely, and his eyes finally +paused at George Iredale, seated beside Prudence. +He cared nothing for his mother’s vituperation, but +he was watchful of the smuggler.</p> +<p>Suddenly the burly rancher sprang to his feet. He +stepped up to Hervey. The latter moved a pace +back.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span></div> +<p>“Not one cent, you cowardly hound!” he roared. +“Not one cent shall you have; do you hear? I thank +God that I am here to stop you robbing these, your +mother and sister.” Mrs. Malling tried to interfere, +but he waved her back. “I’ve come at the right +time, and I tell you that you shall not take one +cent of the money. I will never leave you lest you +should wheedle it from them. I will spoil your game. +This is what I intend to do. You and I will set +out for Winnipeg to-night, and together we will +interview the Commissioner of Police. Do you understand +me? I have the whip hand now. And I +promise you your silence shall <i>not</i> be bought.”</p> +<p>Prudence interfered.</p> +<p>“Listen to me, George. I implore you not to do +this thing. Hervey can have all he wants––everything. +You are innocent we know, but you cannot +prove your innocence. Why should you break my +heart when there is a way out of the difficulty? +There is but one person who can denounce you, and +his silence we can purchase. Oh, George,” the girl +went on passionately, “as you love me, listen. My +heart will break if this thing you meditate comes +to pass. Oh, my love, say you won’t do it! Let +mother pay the man off that he may pass out of +our lives for ever. See, mother is going for the +money now. It is so easy; so simple.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Mailing had risen from her seat and moved +away to the door. Hervey stood at the far end of +the parlour facing the open window. He saw his +mother pass out, and a great look of satisfaction came +into his eyes. After all, these women meant to treat +him fairly, he thought.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span></div> +<p>He grinned over at Iredale.</p> +<p>“Better drop it, Iredale, and don’t play the fool. +When I get the money I shall forget that I ever knew +you.”</p> +<p>The smuggler was about to fire a swift retort when +the sound of voices coming in at the open window +interrupted him. The voices were a man’s and a +woman’s. Prudence recognized Alice’s tones. The +other’s she did not recognize at once.</p> +<p>Sarah Gurridge, who had been a silent observer of the +scene, had heard the sound too, but she was absorbed +in what was being enacted about her. Her eyes were +upon Hervey. She saw him start, and his great +haunting eyes were turned upon the window. Suddenly +he rushed forward towards it. He had to pass +round the table, close to where Prudence was now +standing. In doing so he kicked against the dog, +which was standing with its ears pricked up and its +head turned in the direction whence the voices +sounded.</p> +<p>The man’s evil face was blanched. A wild, hunted +look was in his eyes. Iredale saw, was startled, and +his reply died upon his lips as he wondered at this +sudden change.</p> +<p>“Shut the window. Do you hear?” cried Hervey +excitedly. “Don’t let them hear. Don’t let +them–––”</p> +<p>He had reached the window to carry out his own +instructions. His hands were upon the casements, +and he was about to fling the glass frames together. +But suddenly his arms dropped to his sides. He +stood face to face with the figure of Robb +Chillingwood!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span></div> +<p>There was a dreadful silence. Then slowly Hervey +backed away; his glaring eyes were fixed upon the +stern countenance of the ex-Customs officer. Slowly +he backed, backed from the apparition; and the onlookers +noted the pallid cheeks and blazing eyes, and +they wondered helplessly. Nor did Hervey pause +until he reached the wall furthest from the window. +Then he stood, and his lips silently moved.</p> +<p>Suddenly there was a cry, and it rang with vengeful +triumph. It came from the man at the window––Robb +Chillingwood.</p> +<p>“By God! it’s Zachary Smith!”</p> +<p>The next instant and he was in the room.</p> +<p>The onlookers gazed blankly from one to the other +of the two men. What did it mean? Who was +Zachary Smith? And why did Robb so call Hervey? +Then their eyes settled on the man against the wall. +The cheeks were no longer pallid; they were flushed +with a hectic colouring, and those strange eyes were +filled with an awful, murderous light. The lips +continued to move, but he did not speak; only his +right hand slipped round behind him.</p> +<p>Then Robb’s voice sounded through the room +again.</p> +<p>“So, Mr. Zachary Smith, we meet again. And, +by the Lord Harry, you shall swing for what you +did in the mountains! Highway robbery of the +Government bullion under the charge of Leslie Grey, +and the murder of our Indian guide, Rainy-Moon.” +Then he turned––“Hold that door!” he shouted; +and Iredale sprang to obey.</p> +<p>“But–––” Prudence rushed forward, but Sarah +stopped her and drew her back.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span></div> +<p>A wild laugh came from Hervey’s direction.</p> +<p>“And who’s going to take me?” he cried. “You, +Robb Chillingwood, you? Ha, ha!” and his maniacal +laugh rang out again. “Look to yourself, you fool. +Grey crossed my path, and he paid for it with his +life. You shall follow him.”</p> +<p>While his words yet rang upon the air his hand +shot out from behind him, gripping a heavy revolver. +The pistol was raised, and a shriek went up from the +two ladies.</p> +<p>Suddenly there was a rush, a snarl; and a great +body seemed to literally hurl itself through the air. +A shot rang out; simultaneously a cry echoed +through the room; Hervey staggered as something +seized him by the throat and tore away the soft +flesh; another shot followed.</p> +<p>It all happened in a twinkling. Hervey fell to the +ground with a gurgling cry, and Neche, the dog, until +then forgotten by everybody, rolled over by his side +with one dying yelp of pain. Then silence reigned +throughout the room and all was still.</p> +<p>Iredale returned his smoking pistol to his pocket, +and went over to Hervey’s side. His movements +seemed to release the others from the spell under +which they had been held. Robb, unharmed by +Hervey’s shot, came forward, and Sarah and Prudence +followed in his wake. But Iredale waved the ladies +back.</p> +<p>“Stand away, please,” he said quietly. “The dog +had finished him before I got my shot in to save him. +The brute has literally torn his throat out.” Then +he looked over at the dead hound. “It’s awful; I +wonder what made the dog turn upon him?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span></div> +<p>“Are they both dead?” asked Robb, in an awestruck +voice.</p> +<p>Iredale nodded.</p> +<p>“It must have been the sight of Hervey’s levelled +pistol that made the dog rush at him,” said Prudence. +“I’ve seen him do so before.”</p> +<p>“Strange, strange,” murmured Iredale.</p> +<p>“That dog feared firearms,” said Sarah.</p> +<p>“Perhaps he had reason,” observed Robb significantly, +“he only has three sound legs. My God! +And not content with his victims in the mountains, +he–––But, yes, I see it. This man came here without +expecting to meet Grey or me.” Robb broke off +and looked at Prudence. “Of course, I am beginning +to understand. You and Grey were to have been +married.” Then he turned back to the contemplation +of the dead bodies.</p> +<p>“Yes, the murderer of Grey lies confessed,” said +Iredale quietly, “and I think that his motives were +even stronger than those attributed to–––”</p> +<p>Prudence placed a hand over his mouth before he +could complete his sentence.</p> +<p>They were startled from their horrified contemplation +of the work of those last few moments by the +sound of Hephzibah’s voice calling from her bedroom. +The sitting-room door had been opened by +Alice, who had entered the moment Iredale had +released the handle. Now they could hear the farm-wife +moving about overhead, evidently on her way +down-stairs.</p> +<p>Sarah was the first to recover her presence of mind. +She turned upon Robb.</p> +<p>“Not a word to her about––about–––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span></div> +<p>Robb shook his head.</p> +<p>Iredale snatched the pistol from the dead man’s +hand.</p> +<p>Mrs. Malling’s footsteps came creaking down the +stairs. Suddenly Prudence’s hands went up to her +face as she thought of the shock awaiting her mother. +Alice dragged her away to a chair. Iredale and +Robb stood looking down at the two objects on +the floor. Master and hound were lying side by +side.</p> +<p>Sarah ran to the door and met the farm-wife. She +must never know that her son was a murderer––a +double murderer.</p> +<p>Those within the room heard the school-ma’am’s +gentle tones.</p> +<p>“No, no, Hephzibah, you must not go in there yet. +There are things––things which you must not see. +The hound has killed him. Hervey enraged the dog, +and the wretched beast turned upon him––and he is +dead.”</p> +<p>Then there came the sound of a scuffle. The next +moment mother Hephzy pushed her way into the +room. She looked about her wildly; one hand was +clutching a bundle of hundred-dollar bills. Suddenly +her round, staring eyes fell upon the two objects +lying side by side upon the ground. She looked at +the hound; then she looked upon her son. Iredale +had covered the torn throat with pocket-handkerchiefs.</p> +<p>The bills slowly fell in a shower from her hand, +and her arms folded themselves over her breast. +Then she looked in a dazed fashion upon those about +her, muttering audibly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span></div> +<p>“He’s dead––he’s dead,” she repeated to herself +over and over again. Then suddenly she ceased her +repetitions and shook her head. “Mussy-a-me, mussy-a-me! +The Lord’s will be done!”</p> +<p>And she slowly fell in a heap by her dead son’s +side.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='IN_CONCLUSION' id='IN_CONCLUSION'></a> +<h3>IN CONCLUSION</h3> +</div> +<p>Time, the great healer of all sufferings, all sorrows, +can do much, but memory clings with a pertinacity +which defies all Time’s best efforts. Time may +soften the poignancy of deep-rooted sorrow, but it +cannot shut out altogether the pain of a mother’s +grief at the loss of an only son. In spite of all +Hervey’s crimes he was “the only son of his mother, +and she was a widow.” The story of his villainies +was rigidly kept from her, and so she thought of him +only as a prodigal, as a boy to be pitied, as one whose +offences must be condoned; she sought for his good +points, and, in her sweet motherly heart, saw a +wonderful deal in him on which to centre her loving +memory, which, had he lived, even she could never +have discovered. It is something that erring man has +to be humbly grateful for, that women are like this; +so full of the patient, enduring love which can see no +wrong in the object of their affections.</p> +<p>But Loon Dyke Farm became intolerable to Hephzibah +Malling after the ghastly tragedy of her son’s +death; and when Robb and Alice saw fit to marry, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span> +urged on to that risky experiment by the two older +ladies, she insisted upon leasing the place to them on +ridiculously easy terms. She would have given it to +them only for their steady refusal to accept such a +magnificent wedding gift from her.</p> +<p>The old lady was rich enough for her needs and +her daughter’s, and, business woman as she was, she +was generous to a fault where her affections were concerned. +Prudence too was satisfied with any arrangement +which would take her away from the farm. +Knowing what she knew of her brother, Loon Dyke +could never again be her home. So mother and +daughter retired to Ainsley, and only once again did +they return to their old home on the briefest of visits, +and that was to assist at the function of christening +the son and heir of the Chillingwoods.</p> +<p>Later on Prudence induced her mother to make +Winnipeg her home, but though, for her daughter’s +sake, she acceded to the request, she was never quite +at ease among her new surroundings. Nor was Sarah +Gurridge, when she visited her old friend during her +holidays, slow to observe this. “My dear,” she told +Alice, one day after her summer vacation, “Hephzibah +is failing fast. She’s quite old, although she is +my junior by two years and three months. An idle +life doesn’t suit her; and as for Prudence, she wears +fine clothes, and goes out in society all day and most +of the night, but she’s that thin and melancholy that +you wouldn’t know her for the same child. It’s my +opinion that she’s pining––they are both pining. I +found a letter from Hamilton when I got back home. +It was from George Iredale, and I’m going to answer +it at once.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span></div> +<p>“And what are you going to say in your reply?” +laughed Alice. “I know your matchmaking propensity. +So does Robb.”</p> +<p>The quiet, dreamy face of the old school-mistress +smiled over at the happy mother.</p> +<p>“Say?” she exclaimed. “I’m going to give +George a piece of my mind for staying away so long. +I know why he’s doing so, and my belief as to the +cause of his absence is different from what Prudence +is beginning to imagine. She thinks he has left her +because of her brother’s doings, and it’s that that’s +driving her to an early grave. I shall certainly tell +George what I think.” And Sarah wagged her head +sagely.</p> +<p>And she was as good as her word. She had not +seen fit to tell Alice that she had been in constant +communication with George Iredale ever since the +day of the tragedy, or that she was in his confidence +as regarded Prudence. George had left the district +to give both Prudence and her mother time to recover +from the shock. And now that a year or more had +passed away, he had written appealing to Sarah to +tell him if she thought the time auspicious for his +return.</p> +<p>In a long, carefully-worded letter Sarah advised +him not to delay.</p> +<p>“By dint of much perseverance,” she wrote, “I have +persuaded the child out of her absurd notions about +the reflections her brother’s doings have cast upon +her. She looks at things from a healthier standpoint +now. Why should she not marry? What has she +done to debar her from fulfilling the mission which +is appointed for every woman? Nothing! And I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span> +am sure if a certain man should return and renew the +appeal which he made at the time when the Lord’s +anger was visited upon her brother, she would give +him a different reply. However, I must not waste all +my space upon the silly notions of a child with a +misdirected conscience.”</p> +<p>And how her letter bore fruit, and how George +Iredale returned and sought Prudence in the midst +of the distractions of Winnipeg’s social whirl, and +how the girl’s answer, when again he appealed to her, +turned out to be the one Sarah had prophesied for +him, were matters of great satisfaction to the sage old +school-mistress.</p> +<p>She assisted at the wedding which followed, she +saw the bride and bridegroom off at the railway depôt, +she remained to console her old friend for the loss of +her daughter. Then she hied her off once more, back +to the bleak, staring school-house, where she continued +to propound sage maxims for the young of the district +until her allotted task was done, and the tally +of her years complete.</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.8em;font-weight:bold;'>Popular Copyright Novels</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;font-style:italic;margin-bottom:20px;'>AT MODERATE PRICES</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;'>Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of<br />A. L. Burt Company’s Popular Copyright Fiction</p> +<p class='lalign'><b>Abner Daniel</b>. By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Adventures of Gerard</b>. By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Adventures of a Modest Man</b>. By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes</b>. By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The</b>. By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>After House, The</b>. By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Alisa Paige</b>. By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Alton of Somasco</b>. By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>A Man’s Man</b>. By Ian Hay.<br /> +<b>Amateur Gentleman, The</b>. By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Andrew The Glad</b>. By Maria Thompson Daviess.<br /> +<b>Ann Boyd</b>. By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Anna the Adventuress</b>. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Another Man’s Shoes</b>. By Victor Bridges.<br /> +<b>Ariadne of Allan Water</b>. By Sidney McCall.<br /> +<b>Armchair at the Inn, The</b>. By F. Hopkinson Smith.<br /> +<b>Around Old Chester</b>. By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<b>Athalie</b>. By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>At the Mercy of Tiberius</b>. By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Auction Block, The</b>. By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Aunt Jane</b>. By Jeanette Lee.<br /> +<b>Aunt Jane of Kentucky</b>. By Eliza C. Hall.<br /> +<b>Awakening of Helena Richie</b>. By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Bambi</b>. By Marjorie Benton Cooke.<br /> +<b>Bandbox, The</b>. By Louis Joseph Vance.<br /> +<b>Barbara of the Snows</b>. By Harry Irving Green.<br /> +<b>Bar 20</b>. By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Bar 20 Days</b>. By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Barrier, The</b>. By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Beasts of Tarzan, The</b>. By Edgar Rice Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Beechy</b>. By Bettina Von Hutten.<br /> +<b>Bella Donna</b>. By Robert Hichens.<br /> +<b>Beloved Vagabond, The</b>. By Wm. J. Locke.<br /> +<b>Beltane the Smith</b>. By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Ben Blair</b>. By Will Lillibridge.<br /> +<b>Betrayal, The</b>. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Better Man, The</b>. By Cyrus Townsend Brady.<br /> +<b>Beulah</b>. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.<br /> +<b>Beyond the Frontier</b>. By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Black Is White</b>. By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.8em;font-weight:bold;'>Popular Copyright Novels</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;font-style:italic;margin-bottom:20px;'>AT MODERATE PRICES</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:10px;'>Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of<br />A. L. Burt Company’s Popular Copyright Fiction</p> +<p class='lalign'><b>Blind Man’s Eyes, The</b>. By Wm. MacHarg & Edwin Balmer.<br /> +<b>Bob Hampton of Placer</b>. By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Bob, Son of Battle</b>. By Alfred Ollivant.<br /> +<b>Britton of the Seventh</b>. By Cyrus Townsend Brady.<br /> +<b>Broad Highway, The</b>. By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Bronze Bell, The</b>. By Louis Joseph Vance.<br /> +<b>Bronze Eagle, The</b>. By Baroness Orczy.<br /> +<b>Buck Peters, Ranchman</b>. By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Business of Life, The</b>. By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>By Right of Purchase</b>. By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Cabbages and Kings</b>. By O. Henry.<br /> +<b>Calling of Dan Matthews, The</b>. By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Cape Cod Stories</b>. By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Dan’s Daughter</b>. By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Eri</b>. By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap’n Warren’s Wards</b>. By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cardigan</b>. By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Carpet From Bagdad, The</b>. By Harold MacGrath.<br /> +<b>Cease Firing</b>. By Mary Johnson.<br /> +<b>Chain of Evidence, A</b>. By Carolyn Wells.<br /> +<b>Chief Legatee, The</b>. By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Cleek of Scotland Yard</b>. By T. W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Clipped Wings</b>. By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Coast of Adventure, The</b>. By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Colonial Free Lance, A</b>. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss.<br /> +<b>Coming of Cassidy, The</b>. By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Coming of the Law, The</b>. By Chas. A. Seltzer.<br /> +<b>Conquest of Canaan, The</b>. By Booth Tarkington.<br /> +<b>Conspirators, The</b>. By Robt. W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Counsel for the Defense</b>. By Leroy Scott.<br /> +<b>Court of Inquiry, A</b>. By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Crime Doctor, The</b>. By E. W. Hornung.<br /> +<b>Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure</b>. By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Cross Currents</b>. By Eleanor H. Porter.<br /> +<b>Cry in the Wilderness, A</b>. By Mary E. Waller.<br /> +<b>Cynthia of the Minute</b>. By Louis Jos. Vance.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Dark Hollow, The</b>. By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Dave’s Daughter</b>. By Patience Bevier Cole.</p> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: ppg0811 --> +<!-- timestamp: Wed Aug 12 17:38:36 -0600 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hound From The North, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH *** + +***** This file should be named 29695-h.htm or 29695-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/9/29695/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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