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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8724068 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68936 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68936) diff --git a/old/68936-0.txt b/old/68936-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3337e3b..0000000 --- a/old/68936-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4962 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The mate of the Vancouver, by Morley -Roberts - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The mate of the Vancouver - -Author: Morley Roberts - -Release Date: September 8, 2022 [eBook #68936] -[Most recently updated: October 11, 2022] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE -VANCOUVER *** - - - - - - - - THE MATE OF THE - VANCOUVER - - - - BY - - MORLEY ROBERTS - - AUTHOR OF "KING BILLY OF BALLARAT," ETC. - - - - NEW YORK - STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS - 238 WILLIAM STREET - - - - - Copyright, 1892, - By CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. - - Copyright, 1900 - By STREET & SMITH - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -PART I. - -On Board the Vancouver - - -PART II. - -San Francisco and Northward - - -PART III. - -A Golden Link - - -PART IV. - -Love and Hate - - -PART V. - -At the Black Cañon - - - - -THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER. - - - -PART I. - -ON BOARD THE VANCOUVER. - -I am going to write, not the history of my life, which, on the whole, -has been as quiet as most men's, but simply the story of about a year -of it, which, I think, will be almost as interesting to other folks -as any yarn spun by a professional novel writer; and if I am wrong, -it is because I haven't the knowledge such have of the way to tell a -story. As a friend of mine, who is an artist, says, I know I can't -put in the foreground properly, but if I tell the simple facts in my -own way, it will be true, and anything that is really true always -seems to me to have a value of its own, quite independent of what the -papers call "style," which a sailor, who has never written much -besides a log and a few love-letters, cannot pretend to have. That -is what I think. - - -Our family--for somehow it seems as if I must begin at the -beginning--was always given to the sea. There is a story that my -great-grandfather was a pirate or buccaneer; my grandfather, I know, -was in the Royal Navy, and my father commanded a China clipper when -they used to make, for those days, such fast runs home with the new -season's tea. Of course, with these examples before us, my brother -and I took the same line, and were apprenticed as soon as our mother -could make up her mind to part with her sons. Will was six years -older than I, and he was second mate in the vessel in which I served -my apprenticeship; but, though we were brothers, there wasn't much -likeness either of body or mind between us; for Will had a failing -that never troubled me, and never will; he was always fond of his -glass, a thing I despise in a seaman, and especially in an officer, -who has so many lives to answer for. - -In 1881, when I had been out of my apprenticeship for rather more -than four years, and had got to be mate by a deal of hard work--for, -to tell the truth, I liked practical seamanship then much better than -navigation and logarithms--I was with my brother in the _Vancouver_, -a bark of 1100 tons register. If it hadn't been for my mother, I -wouldn't have sailed with Will, but she was always afraid he would -get into trouble through drink; for when he was at home and heard he -was appointed to the command of this new vessel, he was carried to -bed a great deal the worse for liquor. So when he offered me the -chief officer's billet, mother persuaded me to take it. - -"You must, Tom," she said; "for my sake, do. You can look after him, -and perhaps shield him if anything happens, for I am in fear all the -time when he is away, but if you were with him I should be more at -ease; for you are so steady, Tom." - -I wasn't so steady as she thought, I dare say, but still I didn't -drink, and that was something. Anyhow, that's the reason why I went -with Will, and it was through him and his drinking ways that all the -trouble began that made my life a terror to me, and yet brought all -the sweetness into it that a man can have, and more than many have a -right to look for. - -When we left Liverpool we were bound for Melbourne with a mixed cargo -and emigrants; and I shouldn't like to say which was the most mixed, -what we had in the hold or in the steerage, for I don't like such a -human cargo; no sailor does, for they are always in the way. -However, that's neither here nor there, for though Will got too much -to drink every two days or so on the passage out, nothing happened -then that has any concern with the story. It was only when we got to -Sandridge that the yarn begins, and it began in a way that rather -took me aback; for though I had always thought Will a man who didn't -care much for women, or, at any rate, enough to marry one, our anchor -hadn't been down an hour before a lady came off in a boat. It was -Will's wife, as he explained to me in a rather shamefaced way when he -introduced her, and a fine-looking woman she was--of a beautiful -complexion with more red in it than most Australians have, two -piercing black eyes, and a figure that would have surprised you, it -was so straight and full. - -She shook hands with me very firmly, and looked at me in such a way -that it seemed she saw right through me. - -"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ticehurst," she said; "I know we -shall be friends, you are so like your brother." - -Now, somehow, that didn't please me, for I could throw Will over the -spanker boom if I wanted to; I was much the bigger man of the two; -and as for strength, there was no comparison between us. -Besides--however, that doesn't matter; and I answered her heartily -enough, for I confess I liked her looks, though I prefer fair women. - -"I am sure we shall," said I; "my brother's wife must be, if I can -fix it so." - -And with that I went off and left them alone, for I thought I might -not be wanted there; and I knew very well I was wanted elsewhere, for -Tom Mackenzie, the second Officer, was making signs for me to come on -deck. - -After that I saw her a good deal, for we were often together, -especially when she came down once or twice and found Will the worse -for liquor. The first time she was in a regular fury about it, and -though she didn't say much, she looked like a woman who could do -anything desperate, or even worse than that. But the next time she -took it more coolly. - -"Well, Tom," she said, "he was to take me to the theater, but now he -can't go. What am I to do?" - -"I don't know," said I, foolishly enough, as it seemed, but then I -didn't want to take the hint, which I understood well enough. - -"Hum!" she said sharply, looking at me straight. I believe I blushed -a little at being bowled out, for I was I knew that. However, when -she had made up her mind, she was not a woman to be baulked. - -"Then I know, Tom, if you don't," she said; "you must take me -yourself. I have the tickets. So get ready." - -"But, Helen!" I said, for I really didn't like to go off with her in -that way without Will's knowing. - -Her eyes sparkled, and she stamped her foot. - -"I insist on it! So get ready, or I'll go by myself. And how would -Will like that?" - -There was no good resisting her, she was too sharp for me, and I went -like a lamb, doing just as she ordered me, for she was a masterful -woman and accustomed to have her own way. If I did wrong I was -punished for it afterward, for this was the beginning of a kind of -flirtation which I swear was always innocent enough on my side, and -would have been on hers too, if Will had not been a coward with the -drink. - -In Melbourne we got orders for San Francisco, and it was only a few -days before we were ready to sail that I found out Helen was going -with us. I was surprised enough any way, for I knew the owners -objected to their captains having their wives on board, but I was -more surprised that she was ready to come. I hope you will believe -that, for it is as true as daylight. I thought at first it was all -Will's doing, and he let me think so, for he didn't like me to know -how much she ruled him when he was sober. However, she came on board -to stay just twenty-four hours before we sailed; the very day Will -went up to Melbourne to ship two men in place of two of ours who had -run from the vessel. - -Next morning, when we were lying in the bay, for we had hauled out -from the wharf at Sandridge, a boat ran alongside just at six -o'clock, and the two men came on board. - -"Who are you, and where are you from?" I asked roughly, for I didn't -like the look of one of them. - -"These are the two hands that Captain Ticehurst shipped yesterday -from a Williamstown boarding house," said the runner who was with -them. - -I always like to ship men from the Sailor's Home, but I couldn't help -myself if Will chose to take what he could get out of a den of -thieves such as I knew his place to be. - -"Very well!" said I gruffly enough. "Look alive, get your dunnage -forward and turn to!" - -One of them was a hard-looking little Cockney, who seemed a sailor -every inch, though there weren't many of them; but the other was a -dark lithe man, with an evil face, who looked like some Oriental -half-caste. - -"Here," said I to the Cockney, "what's your name?" - -"Bill Walker, sir," he answered. - -"Who's the man with you? What is he?" I asked. - -"Dunno, sir," said Walker, looking forward at the figure of his -shipmate, who was just disappearing in the fo'c'sle; "I reckon he's -some kind of a Dago, that's what he is, some kind of a Dago." - -Now, a Dago in sailor's language means, as a rule, a Frenchman, -Spaniard, or Greek, or anyone from southern Europe, just as a -Dutchman means anyone from a Fin down to a real Hollander; so I -wasn't much wiser. However, in a day or two Bill Walker came up to -me and told me, in a confidential London twang, that he now believed -Matthias, as he called himself, was a half-caste Malay, as I had -thought at first. But I was to know him better afterward, as will be -seen before I finish. - -Now, it is a strange thing, and it shows how hard it is for a man not -accustomed to writing, like myself, to tell a story in the proper -way, that I have not said anything of the passengers who were going -with us to San Francisco. I could understand it if I had been -writing this down just at the time these things happened, but when I -think that I have put the Malay before Elsie Fleming, even if he came -into my life first, I am almost ready to laugh at my own stupidity. -For Elsie was the brightest, bonniest girl I ever saw, and even now I -find it hard not to let the cat out of the bag before the hour. As a -matter of fact, this being the third time I have written all this -over, I had to cut out pages about Elsie which did not come in their -proper place. So now I shall say no more than that Elsie and her -sister Fanny, and their father, took passage with us to California, -as we were the only sailing vessel going that way; and old Fleming, -who had been a sailor himself, fairly hated steamboats--aye, a good -deal worse than I do, for I think them a curse to sailors. But when -they came on board I was busy as a mate is when ready to go to sea, -and though I believe I must have been blind, yet I hardly took any -notice of the two sisters, more than to remark that one had hair like -gold and a laugh which was as sweet as a fair wind up Channel. But I -came to know her better since; though in a way different from the -Malay. - -When we had got our anchor on board, and were fairly out to sea, -heading for Bass's Straits, I saw her and Helen talking together, and -I think it was the contrast between the two that first attracted me -toward her, not much liking dark women, being dark myself. She -seemed, compared with Will's wife, as fair as an angel from heaven, -though the glint of her eyes, and her quick, bright ways, showed she -was a woman all over. I took a fancy to her that moment, and I -believe Helen saw it, when I think over what has happened since, for -she frowned and bit her lip hard, until I could see a mark there. -But I didn't know then what I do now, and besides, I had no time to -think about such things just then, for we were hard at it getting -things shipshape. - -Tom Mackenzie, the second officer, and a much older man than -myself--for he had been to sea for seventeen years before he took it -into his head to try for his second mate's ticket--came up to me when -the men were mustered aft. - -"Mr. Ticehurst," said he gruffly, "I should be glad if you'd take -that Malay chap in your watch, for I have two d--d Dagos already, who -are always quarreling, and if I have three, there will be bloodshed -for sure. I don't like his looks." - -"No more do I," I answered; "but I don't care for his looks. I've -tamed worse looking men; and if you ask it, Mackenzie, why I'll have -him and you can take the Cockney." - -I think this was very good of me, for Bill Walker, I could see, was a -real smart hand, and a merry fellow, not one of those grumblers who -always make trouble for'ard, and come aft at the head of a deputation -once a week growling about the victuals. But Mackenzie was a good -sort, and though he was under me, I knew that for practical -seamanship--though I won't take a back seat among any men of my years -at sea--he was ahead of all of us. So I was ready to do him a good -turn, and it was true enough he had two Greeks in his watch already. - -When we had been to sea about a week, and got into the regular -routine of work, which comes round just as it does in a house, for it -is never done, Will got into his routine, too, and was drunk every -day just as regular as eight bells at noon. Helen came to me, of -course. - -"Tom, can't you do something?" she said, with tears in her eyes, the -first time I ever saw them there, though not the last. "It is -horrible to think of his drinking this way! And then before those -two girls--I am ashamed of myself and of him! Can't you do anything?" - -"What can I do, Helen?" I asked. "I can't take it from him; I can't -stave the liquor, there's too much of it; besides, he is captain, if -he is my brother, and I can't go against him." - -"But can't you try and persuade him, Tom?" and she caught my arm and -looked at me so sorrowfully. - -"Haven't I done it, Helen!" I answered. "Do you think I have seen -him going to hell these two years without speaking? But what good is -it--what good is it?" - -She turned away and sat down by Elsie and Fanny, while just -underneath in the saloon Will was singing some old song about "Pass -the bottle round." He did, too, and it comes round quick at a party -of one. - -I can see easily that if I tell everything in this way I shall never -finish my task until I have a pile of manuscript as big as the log of -a three years' voyage, so I shall have to get on quickly, and just -say what is necessary, and no more. And now I must say that by this -time I was in love with Elsie Fleming, in love as much as a man can -be, in love with a passion that trial only strengthened, and time -could not and cannot destroy. It was no wonder I loved her, for she -was the fairest, sweetest maid I ever saw, with long golden hair, -bright blue eyes that looked straight at one, but which could be very -soft too sometimes, and a neat little figure that made me feel, great -strong brute that I was, as clumsy as an ox, though I was as quick -yet to go aloft as any young man if occasion called for the mate to -show his men the way. And when we were a little more than half -across the Pacific to the Golden Gate, I began to think that Elsie -liked me more than she did anyone else, for she would often talk to -me about her past life in sunny New South Wales, and shiver to think -that her father might insist on staying a long time in British -Columbia, for he was going to take possession of a farm left him by -an old uncle near a place called Thomson Forks. - -It was sweet to have her near me in the first watch, and I cursed -quietly to myself when young Jack Harmer, the apprentice, struck four -bells, for at ten o'clock she always said, "Good-night, Mr. -Ticehurst. I must go now. How sleepy one does get at sea! Dear me, -how can you keep your eyes open?" And when she went down it seemed -as if the moon and stars went out. - -When it was old Mackenzie's first watch I was almost fool enough to -be jealous of her being with him then, though he had a wife at home, -and a daughter just as old as Elsie, and he thought no more of women, -as a rule, than a hog does of harmony, as I once heard an American -say. Still, when I lay awake and heard her step overhead, for I knew -it well, I was almost ready to get up then and there and make an -unutterable fool of myself by losing my natural sleep. - -And now I am coming to what I would willingly leave out. I hope that -people won't think badly of me for my share in it, for though I was -not always such a straight walker in life as some are, yet I would -not do what evil-minded folks might think I did. Somehow I have a -difficulty in putting it down, for though I have spoken of it -sometimes sorrowfully enough to one who is very dear to me, yet to -write it coolly on paper seems cowardly and treacherous. And yet, -seeing that I can harm no one, and knowing as I do in my heart that I -wasn't to blame, I must do it, and do it as kindly as I can. This is -what I mean: I began to see that Helen loved me more than she should -have done, and that she hated Will bitterly, but Elsie even worse. - -It was a great surprise to me, for, to tell the truth, women as a -general rule have never taken to me very much, and Will was always -the one in our family who had most to do with them. And for my part, -until I saw Elsie I never really loved anyone, although, like most -men, I have had a few troubles which until then I thought -love-affairs. So it was very hard to convince myself that what I -suspected was true, even though I believe that I have a natural -fitness for judging people and seeing through them, even women, who -some folks say do not act from reason like men. However, I don't -think they are much different, for few of us act reasonably. But all -this has nothing to do with the matter in hand. Now, I must confess, -although it seems wicked, that I was a little pleased at first to -think that two women loved me, for we are all vain, and that -certainly touches a man's vanity, and yet I was sorry too, for I -foresaw trouble unless I was very careful, though not all the woe and -pain which came out of this business before the end. - -The first thing that made me suspect something was wrong, was that -Helen almost ceased to keep Will from the bottle, and she taunted him -bitterly, so bitterly, that if he had not usually been a -good-tempered fellow even when drunk, he might have turned nasty and -struck her. And then she would never leave me and Elsie alone if she -could help it, although she was not hypocrite enough to pretend to be -very fond of her. Indeed, Elsie said one night to me that she was -afraid Mrs. Ticehurst didn't like her. I laughed, but I saw it was -true. Then, whenever she could, Helen came and walked with me, and -she hardly ever spoke. It seems to me now, when I know all, that she -was in a perpetual conflict, and was hardly in her right mind. I -should like to think that she was not. - -I was in a very difficult position, as any man will admit. I loved -Elsie dearly; I was convinced my brother's wife loved me; and we were -all four shut up on ship-board. I think if we had been on land I -should have spoken to Elsie and run away from the others, but here I -could not speak without telling her more than I desired, or without -our being in the position of lovers, which might have caused trouble. -For I even thought, so suspicious does a man get, that Helen might -perhaps have come on board more on my account than on Will's. - -All this time we were making very fair headway, for we had a good -breeze astern of us, and the "Islands" (as they call them in San -Francisco), that is the Sandwich Islands, were a long way behind us. -If we had continued to have fine weather, or if Will had kept sober, -or even so drunk that he could not have interfered in working the -ship, things might not have taken the turn they did, and what -happened between me and the Malay who called himself Matthias might -never have occurred. And when I look back on the train of -circumstances, it almost makes me believe in Fate, though I should be -unwilling to do that; for I was taught by my mother, a very -intelligent woman who read a great deal of theology, that men have -free will and can do as they please. - -However, when we were nearing the western coast of America, Will, who -had a great notion--a much greater one than I had, by the way--of his -navigation, began to come up every day and take his observations with -me, until at last the weather altered so for the worse, and it came -on to blow so hard, that neither of us could take any more. Now, if -Will drank enough, Heaven knows, in fine weather, he drank a deal -harder in foul, though by getting excited it didn't have the usual -effect on him, and he kept about without going to sleep just where he -sat or lay down. So he was always on deck, much to my annoyance, for -I could see the men laughing as he clung to the rail at the break of -the poop, bowing and scraping, like an intoxicated dancing master, -with every roll the _Vancouver_ made. - -For five days we had been running by dead reckoning, and as well as I -could make out we were heading straight for the coast, a good bit to -the nor'ard of our true course. Besides, we were a good fifty miles -farther east than Will made out, according to his figures, and I said -as much to him. He laughed scornfully. "I'm captain of this ship," -said he; "and Tom--don't you interfere. If I've a mind to knock -Mendocino County into the middle of next week, I'll do it! But I -haven't, and we are running just right." - -You see, when he was in this state he was a very hard man to work -with, and if we differed in our figures I had often enough a big job -to convince him that he was wrong. And being wrong even a second in -the longitude means being sixty miles out. And with only dead -reckoning to rely on, we should have been feeling our way cautiously -toward the coast, seeing that in any case we might fetch up on the -Farallon Islands, which lie twenty miles west of the Golden Gate. - -On the sixth day of this weather it began to clear up a little in the -morning watch, and there seemed some possibility of our getting sight -of the sun before eight bells. Will was on deck, and rather more -sober than usual. - -"Well, sir," said I to him, for I was just as respectful, I'll swear, -as if he was no relation, "there seems a chance of getting an -observation; shall we take it?" - -"Very well," said he. "Send Harmer here, and we'll wait for a -chance." - -Harmer came aft, and brought up Will's sextant, and just then the -port foretopsail sheet parted, for it was really blowing hard, though -the sun came out at intervals. I ran forward myself, and by the time -the watch had clewed up the sail and made it fast, eight bells had -struck. When I went aft I met Harmer. - -"Did you get an observation!" I asked anxiously, for when a man has -the woman he loves on board it makes him feel worried, especially if -things go as they were going then. - -"Yes, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, "and the captain is working it out -now. But, sir, if I were you I would go over it after him, for two -heads are better than one," and he laughed, being a merry, -thoughtless youngster, and went into his berth. - -However, I did not do what he said, thinking that we should both get -an observation at noon. We were very lucky to do so, for it began to -thicken again at ten o'clock, and we were in a heavy fog until nearly -twelve. And as soon as eight bells was struck, the fog which had -lifted came down again. - -When I got below Will already had the chart out, and was showing the -women where we were, as he said; and when I came in he called me. - -"There, look, Mr. Chief Officer! what did I tell you? Look!" and he -pricked off our position as being just about where he had reckoned. - -I took up the slate he had been making the calculation on, but he saw -me, and snatched it out of my hand. - -"What d'ye mean?" said he fiercely; "what do you want?" and he threw -it on the deck, smashing it in four pieces. I made a sign to Elsie, -and she picked them up like lightning, while Will called for the -steward and some more brandy, and began drinking in a worse temper -than I had ever seen him in. - -When I passed Elsie she gave me the broken bits of slate, and I went -into my cabin, pieced them together, and worked the whole thing out -again. And when I had done it the blood ran to my head and I almost -fell. For the morning observation which Will only had taken was -wrongly worked out. I ran out on deck like lightning, and found it a -thick fog all round us, for all the wind. Old Mackenzie was in the -poop, and he roared out when he saw me: - -"What's the matter, Tom Ticehurst?" - -"Put the ship up into the wind, for God's sake!" I shouted. "And -send a hand up aloft to look out, for the coast should be right under -our bows. We must be in Ballinas Bay." And as he ported the helm, I -rushed back into the cabin and took the chart out again to verify our -position as near as I could. The coast ought to be in sight if the -fog cleared. For we had run through or past the Farallones without -seeing them. - -When I came down the women all cried out at the sight of me, for -though I controlled myself all I could, it was impossible, so sudden -was the shock, to hide all I felt. And just then the _Vancouver_ was -coming into the wind, the men were at the lee braces, and as she -dived suddenly into the head seas, her pitches were tremendous. It -seemed to the women that something must be wrong, while Will, who, -seaman-like, knew what had happened, though mad with drink, rushed on -deck with a fierce oath. I dropped the chart and ran after him; yet -I stayed a moment. - -"It will be all right," I said to the women; "but I can't tell you -now." And I followed Will, who had got hold of old Mackenzie by the -throat, while the poor fellow looked thunderstruck. - -"What the devil are you doing?" he screamed. "Why don't you keep the -course? Man the weather-braces, you dogs, and put the helm up!" - -But no one stirred; while Tom Mackenzie, seeing me there, took Will -by the wrists and threw him away from him. I caught him as he fell, -roaring, "Mutiny! Mutiny!" - -"It's no mutiny!" I shouted, in my turn; "if we keep your course we -shall be on the rocks in half an hour. I tell you the land is dead -to loo-ard, aye, and not five miles off." - -But it was less than that, for just then it cleared up a little. And -the lookout on the foreyard shouted, "Land on the lee-bow!" Then he -cried out, "Land right ahead!" Whether Will heard him or not, I -don't know, but he broke away from me and fell, rather than went, -down the companion, and in a moment I heard the women scream. - -I caught Mackenzie by the arm. - -"It's for our lives, and the lives of the women? He's gone for his -revolver! I shall take command!" - -And I sprang behind the companion like lightning. And just in time, -for, as Will came up, I saw he was armed, and I jumped right on his -back. His revolver went off and struck the taffrail; the next moment -I had kicked it forward to where Mackenzie was standing, and grasped -Will by the arms. - -I had never given him credit for the strength he showed, but then he -was mad, mad drunk, and it was not till Walker and Matthias--for all -hands were on deck by this time--came to help me that I secured him. -In the struggle Will drew back his foot and kicked the Malay in the -face, and as he rose, with the evilest look I ever saw on a man's -countenance, he drew his knife instinctively. With my left hand I -caught his wrist and nearly broke it, while the knife flew out of his -hand. And then, even by that simple action, I saw that I had made an -enemy of this man, whom up to this time I had always been kind to and -treated with far more consideration than he would have got from rough -old Mac. But this is only by the way, though it is important enough -to the story. - -I had to tie Will's hands, and all the time he foamed at the mouth, -ordering the crew to assist him. - -"I'll have you hung, you dogs, all of you!" he shrieked, while the -three women stood on the companion-ladder, white and trembling with -fear. - -It was with great trouble that we got him below, and when he was -there I shut him in his berth, and sent the two stewards in with him -to see that he neither did himself harm nor got free, and then I -turned my attention to saving the ship and our lives. - -We were in an awfully critical situation, and one which, in ordinary -circumstances, might have made a man's heart quail; but now--with the -woman I loved on board--it was maddening to think of, and made me -curse my brother who had brought us into it. Think of what it was. -Not five miles on our lee-bow there was the land, and we could even -distinguish as we lifted on the sea the cruel line of white breakers -which seemed to run nearly abeam, for the _Vancouver_ was not a very -weatherly ship, and the gale, instead of breaking, increased, until, -if I had dared, I would have ordered sail to be shortened. - -I went to the chart again. Just as I took it, Mackenzie called to -me, "Mr. Ticehurst, there's a big flat-topped mountain some way -inland. I think it must be Table Mountain." Yes, he knew the coast, -and even as I looked at the chart, I heard him order the helm to be -put up. I saw why, for when we had hauled into the wind, we were -heading dead for the great four-fathom bank that lies off Bonita -Point. But there was a channel between it and the land. - -I ran on deck and spoke to Mackenzie. He pointed out on the -starboard hand, and there the water was breaking on the bank. We -were running for the narrow channel under a considerable press of -canvas, seeing how it blew; for all Mac relieved her of when we first -put her into the wind was the main top-gallant sail. And now I could -do nothing for a moment but try to get sight of our landmarks, and -keep sight of them, for the weather was still thick. - -Fortunately, as it might have seemed for us, the chain-cables had -already been ranged fore and aft on the deck, and I told Mackenzie to -see them bent on to the anchors, and the stoppers made ready. Yet I -knew that if we had to anchor, we were lost; in such a gale it could -only postpone our fate, for they would come home or part to a dead -certainty. - -Mackenzie and I stood together on the poop watching anxiously for the -right moment to haul our wind again. - -"What do you think of it, Mr. Mackenzie?" I said, as I clung on to a -weather backstay. "Where do you think we shall be in half an hour?" - -"I don't think I shall ever see Whitechapel again, sir," he answered -quietly, and I knew he was thinking of home, of his wife and his -daughter. "She will go to leeward like a butter-cask in this sea; -and now look at the land!" And he pointed toward the line of -breakers on the land, which came nearer and nearer. We waited yet a -few minutes, and then I looked at Mackenzie inquiringly. "Yes, I -think so, sir," he said, and with my hand I motioned the men at the -wheel to put the helm down again. As she came into the wind the -upper foretopsail blew out of the boltropes, while the vessel -struggled like a beaten hound that is being dragged to execution, and -shivered from stem to stern. For the waves were running what -landsmen call mountains high; she now shipped a sea every moment, -which came in a flood over the fo'c'sle head; and pouring down -through the scuttle, the cover of which had been washed overboard, it -sent the men's chests adrift in the fo'c'sle and washed the blankets -out of the lower bunks. And to windward the roar of the breakers on -the bank was deafening. I went below just for a moment. I knew I -had no right to go there, my place was on deck, but could not help -myself. I must see Elsie once more before we died, for if the vessel -struck, the first sea that washed over her might take me with it, and -we should never see each other again on earth. But the two sisters -were not in the saloon. I stepped toward their berth, and Helen met -me, rising up from the deck, where she had been crouching down in -terror. - -I have said she was beautiful; and so she was when she smiled, and -the pleasant light fell about her like sunlight on some strange and -rare tropical flower, showing her rosy complexion, her delicate skin -of full-blooded olive, and her coils of dark and shining hair But I -never saw her so beautiful as she was then, clothed strangely with -the fear of death, white with passion that might have made a weaker -woman crimson with shame, and fiercely triumphant with a bitter -self-conquest. She caught me by the arm. "Tom, dear Tom," she said, -in a wonderful voice that came to me clearly through the howl of the -wind, "I know there is not hope for us. He" (and she pointed toward -her husband's cabin) "has ruined us! I hate him! And, Tom, now it -is all over, and we shall not live! Say good-by to me, say good-by!" - -I stood thunderstruck and motionless, for I knew what she meant even -before she put up her hands and took me round the neck. "Kiss me -once, just once, and I will die--for now I could not live, and would -not! Kiss me!" And I did kiss her. Why, I know not, whether out of -pity (it was not love--no, not love of any kind, I swear) or from the -strong constraint of her force of mind, I cannot say; and as I lifted -my head from hers, I saw Elsie, the woman I did love, looking at me -with shame at my fall, as she thought, and with scorn. I freed -myself from Helen, who sank down on her knees without seeing that she -had been observed, and I went toward Elsie. She, too, was pale, -though not with fear, for perhaps she was ignorant of her danger, but -as I thought with a little feeling of triumph even then, for we are -strange beings, with jealousy and anger. - -"You are a coward and a traitor!" she said, when I reached her. - -"No, no, I am not, Elsie," I answered sharply; "but perhaps you will -never know that I am speaking the truth. But let that be; are you a -brave woman? For---- But where is your father?" - -"With Fanny," she answered, disdainfully even then. - -I called him, and he came out. - -"Mr. Fleming," I said; "you know our position; in a few minutes we -shall be safe or--ashore. Get your daughters dressed warmly; stay at -the foot of the companion with them, and, if it is necessary, come up -when I call you." - -The old man shook hands with me and pointed to Will's wife. I had -forgotten her! - -"Look after her, too," I said, and went to Will's cabin. He was fast -asleep and snoring hard. I could hardly keep from striking him, but -I let him lie. Was it a wonder that a woman ceased to love him? And -I went on deck. - -I had not been absent five minutes, but in that time the wind had -increased even more, the seas seemed to have grown heavier, the decks -were full of water, and the fatal wake was yet broader on the -weather-quarter. All the men were aft under the break of the poop, -and most of them, thinking that we must go ashore, had taken off -their oilskins and sea-boots ready for an effort to save themselves -at the last. Even in the state of mind that I was in then, I saw -clearly, and the strange picture they presented--wet through, some -with no hats on, up to their knees in water, for the decks could not -clear themselves, though some of the main deck ports were stove in -and some out in the bulwarks--remains vividly with me now. Among -them stood Matthias, with a red handkerchief over his head, and a -swelled cheek, where Will had struck him. By his side was Walker, -the only man in the crowd who seemed cheerful, and he actually -smiled. Perhaps he was what the Scotch called "fey." - -Suddenly Mackenzie called me loudly. - -"Look sir, look! There is the point, the last of the land! It's -Bonita Point, if I know this coast at all!" - -I sprang into the weather mizzen rigging, and the men, who had -noticed the second mate's gestures, did the same at the main. I -could see the Point, and knew it, and I knew if we could only weather -it we could put the helm up and run into San Francisco in safety. -Just then Harmer, who was as cool as a cucumber, struck four bells, -and Matthias and a man called Thompson, an old one-eyed sailor, came -up to relieve the wheel. - -The point which we had to weather was about as far from us as the -land dead to leeward, and it was touch and go whether we should clear -it or not. The _Vancouver_ made such leeway, closehauled, that it -seemed doubtful, and I fancied we should have a better chance if I -freed her a little, to let her go through the water faster. Yet it -was a ticklish point, and one not to be decided without thought in a -situation which demanded instant action. - -"What think you, Mac," said I hurriedly; "shall we ease her half a -point?" - -He nodded, and I spoke to the men at the wheel, and as I did so I -noticed the Malay's face, which was ghastly with fear, although he -seemed steady enough. But I thought it best to alter the way they -stood, for the Englishman had the lee wheel. I ordered them to -change places. - -"What's that for, sir?" said Matthias, almost disrespectfully. I -stared at him. - -"Do as you are told, you dog!" I answered roughly, for I had no time -to be polite. "I don't like your steering. I have noticed it -before." - -When the course was altered she got much more way on her, but neared -the land yet more rapidly. I called the men on to the poop, for I -had long before this determined not to chance the anchors, and looked -down into the saloon to see if the women were there. - -As I did so Mr. Fleming called me. - -"If I can be of any use, Mr. Ticehurst, I am ready." - -"I think not, Mr. Fleming," I replied as cheerfully as possible; "we -shall be out of danger in a few minutes--or on the rocks," I added to -myself, as I closed the hatch. - -It was a breathless and awful time, and I confess that for a few -moments I forgot the very existence of Elsie, as I calculated over -and over again the chances as we neared the Point. It depended on a -hair, and when I looked at Mackenzie, who was silent and gloomy, I -feared the worst. Yet it shows how strangely one can be affected by -one's fellows that when I saw Harmer and Walker standing side by side -their almost cheerful faces made me hope, and I smiled. But we were -within three cables' length of the Point, and the roar of the -breakers came up against the wind until it deafened us. I watched -the men at the wheel, and I saw Matthias flinch visibly as though he -had been struck by a whip. I didn't know why it was, I am not good -at such things, but I took a deeper dislike to him that moment than I -had ever had, and I stepped up to him. Now in what followed perhaps -I myself was to blame, and yet I feel I could not have acted -differently. Perhaps I looked threatening at him as I approached, -but at any rate he let go the wheel and fell back on the gratings. -With an angry oath I jumped into his place, struck him with my heel, -and then I saw Walker make a tremendous spring for me, with an -expression of alarm in his face, as he looked beyond me, that made me -make a half turn. And that movement saved my life. I felt the knife -of Matthias enter my shoulder like a red-hot iron, and then it was -wrenched out of his hand and out of the wound by Walker. - -In a moment the two were locked together, and in another they were -separated by Mackenzie and the others; and Walker stood smiling with -the knife in his hand. Although the blood was running down my body, -I did not feel faint, and kept my eye fixed on the course kept by the -_Vancouver_, while Mackenzie held me in his arms, and Harmer took the -lee wheel from me. - -"Luff a little!" I cried, for we were almost on the Point, and I saw -a rock nearly dead ahead. "Luff a little!" and they put the helm -down on a spoke or two. - -The moments crawled by, and the coast crawled nearer and nearer, as I -began to feel I was going blind and fainting. But I clung to life -and vision desperately, and the last I saw was what I can see now, -and shall always see as plainly, the high black Point with its ring -of white water crawl aft and yet nearer, aft to the foremast, aft to -the mainmast and then I fell and knew no more. For we were saved. - -When I came to, we were before the wind, and I lay on a mattress in -the cabin. Near me was Elsie, and by her Helen, who was as white as -death. Both were watching me, and when I opened my eyes Helen fell -on her knees and suddenly went crimson, and then white again, and -fainted. But Elsie looked harder and sterner than I had ever seen -her. I turned my face away, and near me I saw another mattress with -a covered figure on it, the figure of a dead man, for I knew the -shape. In my state of faintness a strange and horrible delirium took -possession of me. It seemed as if what I saw was seen only by -myself, and that it was a prophecy of my death. I fainted again. - -When I came to we were at anchor in San Francisco Bay, and a doctor -from the shore was attending to me, while Mackenzie stood by, smiling -and rubbing his hands as if delighted to get me off them. I looked -at him and he knelt down by me. - -"Mackenzie, old man," I whispered, "didn't I see somebody dead here?" - -"Aye, poor chap," he answered, brushing away a tear; "it was poor -Walker." - -"Walker!" I said. "How was that?" - -"Accident, sir," said old Mac. "Just as we rounded the Point and you -fainted, the old bark gave a heavy roll as we put her before the -wind, and Walker, as he was standing with that black dog's knife in -his hand, slipped and fell. The blade entered his body, and all he -said after was, 'It was his knife after all. He threatened to do for -me yesterday.'" - -"Where's Will?" I asked, when he ended, for I was somehow anxious to -save my brother's credit, and I shouldn't have liked to see him -dismissed from the ship. - -"He's on deck now, as busy as the devil in a gale of wind," growled -Mackenzie. "'Tis he that saved the ship. Oh, he's a mighty -man!--but I don't sail with him no more." - -However, he altered his mind about that. - -Now, it has taken me a long time to get to this point, and perhaps if -I had been a better navigator in the waters of story-telling I might -have done just what Will didn't do, and have missed all the trouble -of beating to windward to get round to this part of my story. I -might have put it all in a few words, perhaps, but then I like people -to understand what I am about, and it seems to me necessary. If it -isn't, I dare say someone will tell me one of these days. At any -rate, here I have got into San Francisco, a city I don't like by the -way, for it is a rascally place, managed by the professional -politicians, who are the worst men in it; I had been badly wounded, -and the Malay was in prison, and (not having money) he was likely to -stay there. - -I was in the hospital for three weeks, and I never had a more -miserable or lonely time. If I had not been stronger in constitution -than most men I think I should have died, so much was I worried by my -love for Elsie, who was going away thinking me a scoundrel, who had -tried to gain the love of my brother's wife. Of course she did not -come near me, though I knew the Flemings were still in the city. I -learnt so much from Will, who had the grace to come and see me, -thanking me, too, for having saved the _Vancouver_. - -"You must get well soon, Tom," said he, "for I need you very much -just now." - -I kept silence, and he looked at me inquiringly. - -"Will," I said at length, "I shall never I sail with you again--I -can't do it." - -"Why not?" he cried, in a loud voice, which made the nurse come up -and request him to speak in a little lower tone. "Why not? I can't -see what difference it will make, anything that has occurred." - -No, he did not see, but then he did not know. How could I go in the -ship again with Helen? Besides, I had determined to win Elsie for my -wife, and how could I do that if I let her go now, thinking what she -did of me? - -"Well, Will, I can't go," said I once more; "and I don't think I -shall go to sea again, I am sick of it." - -Will stared, and whistled, and laughed. - -"Ho!" said he; "I think I see how the land lies. You are going to -settle in British Columbia, eh? You are a sly dog, but I can see -through you. I know your little love-affair; Helen told me as much -as that one day." - -"Well, then, Will," I answered wearily, for I was out of heart lying -there, "if you know, you can understand now why I am not going to -sail with you. But, Will," and I rose on my elbow, hurting myself -considerably as I did so, "let me implore you not to drink in future. -Have done with it. It will be your ruin and your wife's--aye, and if -I sailed with you, mine as well. Give me your hand, and say you will -be a sober man for the future, and then I shall be content to go -where I must go--aye, and where I will go." - -He gave me his hand, that was hot with what he had been drinking even -then (it was eleven in the morning), and I saw tears in his eyes. - -"I will try, Tom," he muttered; "but----" - -I think that "but" was the saddest word, and the most prophetic, I -ever heard on any man's lips. I saw how vain it was, and turned -away. He shook hands, and went without saying more than "Good-by, -Tom." I saw him twice after that, and just twice. - -By the time I was out of the hospital the _Vancouver_ was ready to go -to sea, being bound to England; and she might have sailed even then, -only it was necessary for Tom Mackenzie and one or two others to -remain as witnesses when they tried Matthias for stabbing me. I -shall not go into a long description of the trial, for I have read in -books of late so many trial scenes that I fear I should not have the -patience to give details, which, after all, are not necessary, since -the whole affair was so simple. And yet, what followed afterward -from that affair I can remember as brightly and distinctly as if in a -glass--the look of the dingy court, the fierce and revengeful eyes of -Matthias, who never spoke till the last, and the appearance of Helen -and Fanny (Elsie was not there)--when the judge after the verdict -inflicted a sentence of eighteen months' hard labor on the prisoner. -Perhaps he had been in prison before, and knew what it meant, or it -was simply the bitter thought of a revengeful Oriental at being -worsted by his opponent; but when he heard the sentence, he leant -forward and grasped the rail in front of him tightly, and spoke. His -skin was dark and yet pallid, the perspiration stood in beads on his -forehead, he bit his lips until blood came, while his eyes looked -more like the eyes of a human beast than those of a man. This is -what he said as he looked at me, and he spoke with a strange -intensity which hushed all noise. - -"When I come out of jail I will track you night and day, wherever you -go or whatever you do to escape me. Though you think I do not know -where you are, I shall always be seeking for you, and at last I shall -find you. If a curse of mine could touch you, you should rot and -wither now, but the time will come when my hand shall strike you -down!" - -Such was the meaning of what he said, although it was not put exactly -as I have here written it down; and if I confess, as I should have to -do at last before the end of this story comes, that the words and the -way they were spoken--spoken so vehemently and with so fixed a -resolution--made me shiver and feel afraid in a way I had never done -before, I hope nobody will blame me; but I am sure that being in love -makes a coward of a man in many ways, and in one moment I saw myself -robbed of life and love just at their fruition. I beheld myself -clasping Elsie to my bosom, having won from her at last an avowal of -her love, and then stabbed or shot in her arms. Ah! it was dreadful -the number of fashions my mind went to work, in a quick fever of -black apprehension, to foretell or foresee my own possible doom. I -had never thought myself cowardly, but then I seemed to see what -death meant better than I had ever done; and often the coward is what -he is, as I think now, from a vivid imagination, which so many of us -lack. I went out of the court in a strange whirl, for you see I had -only just recovered. If I had been quite well I might have laughed -instead of feeling as I did. But I did not laugh then. - -Now, on the next morning the _Vancouver_ was to leave the harbor, -being then at anchor off Goat Island. All the money that was due to -me I had taken, for Will had given me my discharge, and I sent home -for what I had saved, being quite uncertain what I should do if I -followed Elsie to British Columbia. And that night I saw the last of -Will, the last I ever saw, little thinking then how his fate and mine -were bound up together, nor what it was to be. Helen was with him, -and I think if he had been sober or even gentle with her in his -drink, she would have never spoken to me again as she did on that day -when she believed that life was nearly at its end for both of us. -But Will, having finished all his business, had begun to drink again, -and was in a vile temper as we sat in a room at the American Exchange -Hotel, where I was staying. Helen tried to prevent his drinking. - -"Will," she said, in rather a hard voice from the constraint she put -on herself, "you have had enough of drink, we had better go on board." - -"Go on board yourself," said he, "and don't jaw me! I wish I had -left you in Australia. A woman on board a ship is like a piano in -the fo'c'sle. Come and have a drink, Tom." - -"No, thank you," I said; "I have had quite enough." - -And out he went, standing drinks at the bar to half a dozen, some of -whom would have cut his throat for a dollar, I dare say, by the looks -of them. Then Helen came over and sat down by me. - -"I have never spoken to you, Tom," she began, and then she stopped, -"since--you know, since that dreadful day outside there," and she -pointed, just like a woman who never knows the bearings of a place -until she has reckoned out how the house points first, to the East -when she meant the West, "and now I feel I must, because I may never -have the chance again." - -She took out her handkerchief, although she was dry-eyed, and twisted -it into a regular ground-swell knot, until I saw the stuff give way -here and there. She seemed unable to go on, and perhaps she would -not have said more if we hadn't heard Will's voice, thick with drink, -as he demanded more liquor. - -"Hear him!" she said hurriedly, "hear the man who is my husband! -What a fool I was! You don't know, but I was. And I am his wife! -Ah! I could kill him! I could! I could!" - -I was horrified to see the passion she was in; it seemed to have a -touch of real male fury in it, just as when a man is trying to -control himself, feeling that if one more provocation is given him he -will commit murder, for she shook and shivered, and her voice was -strangely altered. - -And just then Will came back, demanding with an oath if she was ready -to go. She never spoke, but I should have been sorry to have any -woman look at me as she did at him when his eyes were off her. I -shook hands with her and with him, for the last time, and they went -away. - -Next morning, being lonely and having nothing to do I went out to the -park, made on the great sand-dunes which runs from the higher city to -the ocean beach and the Cliff House on the south side of the Golden -Gate. For the sake of a quiet think I went out by the cars, and -walked to a place where few ever came but chance visitors, except on -Sunday. It is just at the bend of the great drive and a little above -the road, where there is a large tank with a wooden top, which makes -a good seat from which one can see back to San Francisco and across -the bay to Oakland, Saucelito, and the other little watering-places -in the bay; or before one, toward the opening of the Golden Gate, and -the guns of Alcatraz Island, where the military prison is. Here I -took my seat and looked out on the quiet beautiful bay and the sea -just breaking in a line of foam on the beach beneath me. The sight -of the ships at anchor was rather melancholy to me, for my life had -been on the sea. It seemed as if a new and unknown life were before -me; and a sailor starting anything ashore is as strange as though -some inveterate dweller in a city should go to sea. There were one -or two white sails outside the Heads, and one vessel was being towed -in; there was a broad wake from the Saucelito ferry-boat, and far out -to sea I saw the low Farallones lying like a cloud on the horizon. -It was beyond them that my new life had begun, really begun; and -though the day was fair, I knew not how soon foul weather might -overtake me, and I knew indeed that it could only be postponed unless -fate were very kind. I don't know how long I sat on that tank -drumming on the hollow wood, as I idly picked up the pebbles from the -ground and threw them down into the road; but at last I saw what I -had partly been waiting for--the _Vancouver_ being towed out to sea. -I had no need to look at her twice; I knew every rope in her, and -every patch of paint, to say nothing of her masts being ranked a -little more than is usual nowadays. I had no glass with me, but I -fancied I could see a patch of color on her poop that was Helen. - -I watched the vessel which had been my home--and which, but for me, -would have been lying a wreck over yonder--for more than an hour, and -then I turned to go home, if I can call an American hotel "home" by -strained politeness, and just then I saw a carriage come along. Now, -I knew as well before I could distinguish them that Elsie, Fanny, and -her father were in that carriage, as I did that Helen was on board -the _Vancouver_; and I sat down again feeling very faint--I suppose -from the effects of my wound, or the illness that came from it. The -carriage had almost passed beneath me--and I felt Elsie saw me, -though she made no sign--before Mr. Fleming caught sight of me. - -"Hi! stop!" he called, and the driver drew up. "Why, Mr. Ticehurst, -is that you? I thought the _Vancouver_ had gone? Besides, how does -a mate find time to be out here? Things must have changed since I -was at sea. Come down! Come down!" - -I did so, and shook hands with them all, though Elsie's hand lay in -mine like a dead thing until she drew it away. - -"The _Vancouver_ has gone, Mr. Fleming," said I; "and there she -is--look!" - -They all turned, and Elsie kept her eyes fixed on it when the others -looked at me again. - -"Well," said Fleming, "what does it all mean? Where are you going? -Back to town? That's right, get in!" And without more ado the old -man, who had the grip of a vise, caught hold of me, and in I came -like a bale of cotton. "Drive on!" - -"Now then," he went on, "you can tell us why you didn't go with them." - -I paused a minute, watching Elsie. - -"Well, Mr. Fleming," I said at last, "you see I didn't quite agree -with my brother." - -"H'm!--calls taking the command from the captain not quite agreeing -with him," chuckled Fleming; "but I thought you made it up, didn't -you?" - -"Yes, we made it up, but I wouldn't sail with him any more. I had -more than one reason." - -Again I looked at Elsie, and she was, I thought, a little pleasanter, -though she did not speak. But Fanny pinched her arm, I could see -that, and looked roguishly at me. However, Mr. Fleming, did not -notice that byplay. - -"Well," he said, a trifle drily as I fancied, "I won't put you -through your catechism, except to ask you in a fatherly kind of way" -(Elsie looked down and frowned) "what you are going to do now. I -should have thought after what that rascal of a half-bred Malay, or -whatever he is, said, that you would have left California in a hurry." - -"Time enough, Mr. Fleming--time enough. I have eighteen months to -look out on without fear of a knife in my ribs, and I may be in -China, or Alaska, or the Rocky Mountains then." - -You see I wanted to give them a hint that I might turn up in British -Columbia. Fanny gave me a better chance though, and I could have -hugged her for it. - -"Or British Columbia perhaps, Mr. Ticehurst?" she said smiling very -innocently. - -"Who knows," I answered, hastily; "when a man begins to travel, there -is no knowing where he may turn up. I had a fancy to go to Alaska, -though." - -For the way to Alaska was the way to British Columbia, and I did not -want to surprise them too much if I went on the same steamer as far -as Victoria. And in four days I might see what chance I really had -with Elsie. - -"Well," said the father, thoughtfully, "I don't know, and can't give -advice. I should have thought that when a man was a good sailor and -held your position he ought to stick to it. A rolling stone gathers -no moss." - -"Yes," I answered, "but I am tired of the sea." - -"So am I," said Fanny, "and I don't blame you, though you ought to go -with careless captains just on purpose to save people's lives, you -know, Mr. Ticehurst; for you saved ours, and I think some of us might -thank you better than by sitting like a dry stick without saying a -word." - -With this she dug at Elsie with her elbow, smiling sweetly all the -time. - -"Yes," said Elsie, "and there is Mr. Harmer now in the _Vancouver_. -Perhaps she will be wrecked." - -This was the first word she had spoken since I had entered the -carriage, and I recognized by its spite that Elsie was a woman not -above having a little revenge. For poor Fanny, who had flirted quite -a little with Harmer, said no more. - -They put down at their hotel, and I went inside with them. - -"Well," said Fleming, "I suppose we shan't see you again, unless you -do as Fanny says, and turn up in our new country. If you do, be sure -we shall welcome you. And I wish you well, my boy." - -I shook hands with them again, and turned away; and as I did so, I -noticed some of their boxes marked, "Per SS. _Mexico_." Fanny saw me -looking, and whispered quickly, as she passed me, "Tom Ticehurst, go -to Mexico!" and vanished, while Elsie stood in the gaslight for a -moment as if in indecision. But she turned away. - - - - -PART II. - -SAN FRANCISCO AND NORTHWARD. - -I never felt so miserable and so inclined to go to sea to forget -myself in hard work as I did that evening after I had bidden farewell -to Elsie and her people. It seemed to me that she had let me go too -easily out of her life for her to really care for me enough to make -her influence my course in the way I had hoped, and hoped still. -Indeed, I think that if she had not stayed that one undecided moment -after she withdrew her hand from mine, I should have never done what -I did do, but have looked for a ship at once. For, after all, I said -to myself, what could a modest girl do more? Why, under the -circumstances, when she thought me guilty of a deliberate crime, -hateful to any woman, to say nothing of my having made love to her at -the same time, it was really more than I could have expected or -hoped. It showed that I had a hold upon her affections; and then -Fanny thought so too, or she would have never said what she did. "Go -to Mexico!" indeed; if I wasn't a fool, it was not Mexico the -country, but _Mexico_ the steamer she meant. I had one ally, at any -rate. Still, I wondered if she knew what Elsie did, though I thought -not, for she alone kissed Helen when they said good-by, and Elsie had -only given her her hand unwillingly. If I could speak to Fanny it -might help me. But I was determined to go northward, and sent my -dunnage down on board the steamer that very evening. - -In the morning, and early, for I lay awake all that night, a thing I -did not remember having done before, I went down on the Front at the -bottom of Market Street, where all the tram cars start, and walked to -and fro for some hours along the wharves where they discharge lumber, -or ship the coal. It was quite a bright morning in the late autumn, -and everything was pleasant to look upon in the pure air before it -was fouled by the oaths of the drivers of wagons and the jar of -traffic. Yet that same noise, which came dimly to me until I was -almost run over by a loaded wagon, pleased me a great deal better -than the earlier quiet of the morning, and by eight o'clock I was in -a healthy frame of mind, healthy enough to help three men with a -heavy piece of lumber just by way of exercise. I went back to my -room, washed my hands, had breakfast, and went on board the steamer, -careless if the Flemings saw me, though at first I had determined to -keep out of their way until the vessel was at sea. I thanked my -stars that I did so, for I saw Fanny by herself on deck, and when she -caught sight of me she clapped her hands and smiled. - -"Well, and where are you going, Mr. Ticehurst?" said she, nodding at -me as if she guessed my secret. - -"I am going to take your advice and go to Mexico!" I answered. - -"Is it far here? By land do you go, or water?" - -"Not far, Fanny; in fact----" - -"You are----" - -"There now!" said I, laughing in my turn. - -"Oh, I am so glad, Mr. Ticehurst!" said she; "for----" and then she -stopped. - -"For what, Fanny?" I asked. - -"I'm afraid I can't tell you. I should be a traitor, and that is -cowardly." - -"No, Fanny, not when we are friends. If you tell me, would you do -any harm?" - -"No," she answered doubtfully. - -"Then treachery is meant to do harm, and if you don't mean harm it -isn't treachery," I replied coaxingly, but with bad logic as I have -been told since. - -"Well, then, perhaps I'll say something. Now suppose you liked me -very much----" - -"So I do, Fanny, I swear!" - -"No you don't, stupid! How can you? I'm not twins--that is, I and -somebody else aren't the same--so don't interrupt. Suppose you liked -me very much, and I liked you very much----" - -"It would be very nice, I dare say," I said, in a doubtful way that -was neither diplomatic nor complimentary. - -"And suppose you went off, and suppose I didn't speak to my sister -for hours, and kept on being a nasty thing by tossing and tumbling -about all night, so that she, poor girl, couldn't go to sleep; and -then suppose when she did go off nicely, she woke up to find me--what -do you think--crying, what would it mean?" - -"Fanny," I exclaimed, in delight, "you are a dear girl, the very -dearest----" - -"No," she said, "no!" - -"That I ever saw. If there weren't so many folks about, I would kiss -you!" - -And I meant it, but Fanny burst into laughter. - -"The idea! I should like to see you try it. I would box your ears -till they were as red as beetroot. But there, Tom, I am glad you are -coming on this dirty steamer. For I have no one to talk to now but -Elsie, and she won't talk at all." - -However, Fanny's little woes did not trouble me much, for I was -thinking of my own, and wondering how I ought to act. - -"Fanny," said I, "tell me what I shall do. Shall I lie low and not -show up until we are out at sea, or what?" - -"If you don't want them to see you, you had better look sharp, for -they are coming up now, I see Elsie's hat," said Fanny. And I dived -out of sight round the deck house, and by dint of skillful navigation -I got into my bunk without any one seeing me. - -Now, the way Elsie found out I was on board was very curious, and -perhaps more pleasing to Fanny than to her. My bunk was an upper -one, and through the open porthole I could look out on to the wharf. -As I lay there, in a much happier frame of mind than I had known for -many days, I stared out carelessly, watching the men at work, and the -passers-by; and suddenly to my great astonishment, I saw young Harmer -looking very miserable and unhappy. He had left the _Vancouver_, -too, but of course without leave, as he was an apprentice. Now, if I -was surprised I was angry, too. It was such a foolish trick, and I -thought I would give him a talking to at once. I spoke through the -port. - -"You infernal young fool!" said I, "what are you doing here? Why did -you leave your ship?" - -If ever I saw a bewildered face it was Harmer's. For some seconds he -looked everywhere for the voice, and could not locate it either on -the wharf, deck, or anywhere else. - -"You ought to be rope's-ended for an idiot!" I went on, and then he -saw part of my face, but without knowing who I was. He flushed -crimson, and looked like a young turkeycock, with his wings down and -his tail up. - -"Who the devil are you, anyhow," he asked fiercely. "You come out -here and I'll pull your ugly head off!" - -"Thank you," I answered calmly, "my head is of more use to me than -yours is, apparently; and if you don't know my voice, it belongs to -Tom Ticehurst!" - -Harmer jumped. - -"Hurrah! Oh, I'm so glad. I was looking for you, Mr. Ticehurst, and -hunting everywhere." - -"And not for anyone else, I suppose?" I put in, and then I saw him -look up. I knew just as well as he did that he saw Fanny, and I -hoped that Elsie was not with her. But she was. - -"How d'ye do, Miss Fleming?" said he nervously; "and you, Miss Fanny? -I hope you are well. I was just talking to Mr. Ticehurst." - -I swore a little at this, and tumbled out of my bunk, and went on -deck to face the music, as the Americans say, and I got behind the -girls in time to hear the little hypocrite Fanny say sweetly: - -"Oh, Mr. Harmer, you must be mistaken, I'm sure! Mr. Ticehurst if -going to Mexico or somewhere. He can't be here." - -"Miss Fanny," said the boy earnestly, "I tell you he is, and -there--just behind you. By Jove, I am coming on board!" - -And he scrambled up the side like a monkey, as Elsie turned and saw -me. - -I said good-morning to her and we shook hands. I could see she was -nervous, and fancied I could see traces of what Fanny, who talked -hard, had told me. - -"Dear me, Mr. Ticehurst!" said Fanny vigorously. "You didn't shake -hands with me, and see the time it is since we last met! Why, was it -yesterday, or when? But men are so forgetful. I never did like boys -when I was a little girl, and I shall keep it up. Yes, Mr. Harmer, -now I can shake hands, for not having arms ten feet long I couldn't -reach yours over the rail, though you did hold them out like a signal -post." - -Then she and Harmer talked, and I lost what they said. - -"Where is your father, Miss Fleming?" I asked, for though I felt -obliged to talk, I could say nothing but that unless I remarked it -was a fine day. But it had been fine for six months in California. - -"He went ashore, Mr. Ticehurst, and won't be back until the steamer -is nearly ready to go. But now I must go down. Come, Fanny!" - -"What for?" demanded that young lady. "I'm not coming, I shall stay; -I like the deck, and hate the cabin--misty stuffy hole! I shall not -go down; as the pilot told the man in the stupid song: 'I shall pace -the deck with thee,' Mr. Ticehurst, please." - -"Thank you, Fanny," said I; "but I want to talk to Harmer here before -the steamer goes, and if you will go with your sister perhaps it will -be best." - -She pouted and looked about her, and with a parting smile for Harmer, -and a mouth for me, she followed Elsie. I turned to the lad. - -"Now," I began, "you're a nice boy! What does it all mean?" - -"It means that I couldn't stay on the _Vancouver_ if you weren't -there, Mr. Ticehurst. I made up my mind to that the moment I heard -you were leaving. I will go on your next ship; but you know, if you -don't mind my saying it, I couldn't stand your brother; I would -rather be struck by you than called a cub by him. A 'cub,' indeed--I -am as big as he is, and bigger!" - -So he was, and a fine handsome lad into the bargain, with curly brown -hair, though his features were a little too feminine for his size and -strength. - -"Harmer," I said drily "I think you have done it now very completely. -This is my next ship, and I am a passenger in her." - -He didn't seem to mind; in fact, he took it so coolly that I began to -think he knew. - -"That doesn't matter, Mr. Ticehurst," he said cheerfully; "I will -come with you." - -I stared. - -"The devil you will! Do you know where I am going, what I am going -to do?--or have you any plans of your own cut and dried for me?" - -"I don't see that it matters, Mr. Ticehurst," he answered, with a -coolness I admired; "I have more than enough to pay my fare, and if -you go to British Columbia I dare say I can get something to do -there." - -"Ah? I see," I replied; "you are tired of the sea, and would like to -marry and settle down, eh?" - -He looked at me, and blushed a little. - -"All the more reason I should go with you, sir; for then--then--there -would be--you know." - -"What, Harmer?" I asked. - -"A pair of us," he answered humbly. - -"H'm, you are a nice boy? What will your father say if he hears you -have gone off in this way?" - -Harmer looked at me and laughed. - -"He will say it was your fault, sir! But I had better get my dunnage -on board." - -And away he went. - -"Harmer, come back!" I cried, but he only turned, nodded cheerfully, -and disappeared in the crowd. - -On the whole, although the appearance of Harmer added a new -responsibility to those which were already a sufficient burden, I was -not ill-pleased, for I thoroughly liked him, and had parted with him -very unwillingly when I shook his hand on board the _Vancouver_ for -the last time, as I thought then. At any rate, he would be a -companion for me, and if by having to look after him I was prevented -in any measure from becoming selfish about Elsie, I might thank his -boyish foolishness in being unable to prevent himself running after -Fanny, whom, to say the truth, I considered a little flirt, though a -dear little girl. And, then, Harmer might be able to help me with -Elsie. It was something to have somebody about that I could trust in -case of accident. - -It was nearer eleven than ten when the steamer's whistle shrieked for -the last time, and the crew began to haul the warps on board. I -could see that Elsie and Fanny were beginning to think that their -father would arrive too late, when I saw him coming along the wharf -with Harmer just behind him. Up to this time I really believed Mr. -Fleming, with the curious innocence that fathers often show, even -those who from their antecedents and character might be expected to -know better, had never thought of me as being his daughter's lover; -but when he had joined his daughters on the hurricane deck, and -caught sight of Harmer and myself standing on the main, I saw in a -moment that he knew almost as much as we could tell him, and that for -a few seconds he was doubtful whether to laugh or to be angry. I saw -him look at me sternly for a few seconds, then he shook his head with -a very mixed smile on his weather-beaten face, and, sitting down on -the nearest beach, he burst into laughter. I went up the poop ladder -and caught Fanny's words: - -"Why, father, what is the matter with you? Don't laugh so, all the -people will think you crazy?" - -"So I am, my dear, clean crazy," he answered; "because I fancied I -saw Tom Ticehurst and young Harmer down on deck there, and of course -it is impossible, I know that--quite impossible. It was an -hallucination. For what could they want here, I should like to know? -You don't know, of course? Well, well, I am surprised!" - -Just then I came up and showed myself, looking quite easy, though I -confess to feeling more like a fool than I remember doing since I was -a boy. - -"Oh, then you are here, Ticehurst?" said the old man. "It wasn't a -vision, after all. I was just telling Fanny here that I thought I -was going off my head." - -I laughed. - -"Why, Mr. Fleming," I said, "is it impossible that I, too, should go -to Victoria, on my way to Alaska?" - -Fleming looked at me curiously, and almost winked. "Ah! Alaska, to -be sure," said he. "You did speak of Alaska. It must be a nice -place. You will be quite close to us. Come over and give us a call." - -"Thank you for the invitation," I replied, laughing. "I will come to -tea, and bring my young friend with me." - -For Harmer now walked up, shook hands with the old man in the most -ordinary way, and sat down between him and Fanny with a coolness I -could not have imitated for my life. It is a strange thing to think -of the amount of impudence boys have from seventeen to twenty-three -or so; they will do things a man of thirty would almost faint to -attempt, and succeed because they don't know the risk they run. -Harmer was soon engaged in talk with Fanny, and I tried in vain to -imitate him. I found Elsie as cold as ice; I could make no -impression on her and was almost in despair at the very outset. If -Fanny had told me the truth in the morning, then Elsie held a great -command over herself. I soon gave up the attack and retreated to my -berth, where I smoked savagely and was miserable. You can see I did -not understand much about women then. - -The passage from San Francisco to Victoria takes about four days, and -in that time I had to make up my mind what I was going to do. If -what Fanny said were true, Elsie loved me, and it was only that -foolish and wretched affair with Helen that stood in my way. Yet, -could I tell the girl how matters were? It seemed to me then, and -seems to me now, that I was bound in honor not to tell her. I could -not say to her brutally that my brother's wife had made love to me, -and that I was wholly blameless. It would be cowardly, and yet I -ought to clear myself. It was an awkward dilemma. Then, again, it -was quite possible that Fanny was mistaken; if she did not care for -me, it was all the harder, and I could not court her with that mark -against me. Yet I was determined to win her, and as I sat in my -berth I grew fierce and savage in my heart. I swore that I would -gain her over, I would force her to love me, if I had to kill any who -stood in my way. For love makes a man devilish sometimes as well as -good. I had come on board saying, "If I see no chance to win her -before I get to Victoria, I will let her go." And now when we were -just outside the Golden Gate, I swore to follow her always. "Yes, -even if she spurns me, if she mocks, taunts me, I will make her come -to me at last, put her arms round my neck, and ask my forgiveness." -I said this, and unconsciously I added, "I will follow her night and -day, in sunshine and in rain, in health or sickness." - -Then I started violently, for I was using words like those of the -Malay, who was waiting his time to follow me, and for ever in the -daytime or nighttime I knew he was whetting the keen edge of his -hate. I could see him in his cell; I could imagine him recalling my -face to mind, for I knew what such men are. I had served as second -mate in a vessel that had been manned with Orientals and the -off-scourings of Singapore, such as Matthias was, and I knew them -only too well. He would follow me, even as I followed her, and as -she was a light before me, he would be a dark shadow behind me. I -wished then that I had killed him on board the _Vancouver_, for I -felt that we should one day meet; and who could discern what our -meeting would bring forth in our lives? I know that from that time -forward he never left me, for in the hour that I vowed to follow -Elsie until she loved me, I saw very clearly that he would keep his -word, though he had but strength to crawl after me and kill me as I -slept. Henceforth, he was always more or less in my mind. Yet, if I -could win Elsie first, I did not care. It might be a race between -us, and her love might be a shield to protect me in my hour of need. -I prayed that it might be so, and if it could not, then at least let -me win her love before the end. - -For two days I kept out of the Flemings' way, or rather out of the -way of the girls, for Mr. Fleming himself could not be avoided, as he -slept in the men's berth in a bunk close to mine. I believe that the -first day on board he spoke to Elsie about me; indeed I know he did, -for I heard so afterward; and I think it was only on her assurance -that there was and could be nothing between us, that he endured the -situation so easily. In the first place, although he was not rich, -he was fairly well off in Australia; and though the British Columbian -ranch property was not equal in value to that which he had made for -himself, yet it represented a sum of money such as I could not -scarcely make in many years in these hard times. It would hardly be -human nature for a father to look upon me as the right sort of man -for his daughter, especially since I was such a fool as to quit the -sea without anything definite awaiting me on land. So, I say, that -if he had thought that Elsie loved me I might have found him a -disagreeable companion, and it was no consolation to me to see that -he treated me in a sort of half-contemptuous, half-pitying way, for I -would rather have seen him like one of the lizards on the Australian -plains, such as the girls had told me of, which erect a spiny frill -over their heads, and swell themselves out the whole length of their -body until their natural ugliness becomes a very horror and scares -anything which has the curiosity or rashness to approach and threaten -them. - -"What are you going to do in Alaska or British Columbia, Tom?" said -he to me one day. "Do you think of farming, or seal-hunting, or -gold-mining, or what? I should like to hear your plans, if you have -any." And then he went on without waiting for an answer, showing -plainly that he thought that I had none, and was a fool. "And that -young idiot Harmer, why didn't he stick to his ship?" - -"Because he will never stick to anything, Mr. Fleming," I answered, -"though he is a clever young fellow, and fit for other things than -sailoring, if I'm a judge. But as for myself I don't think I am, and -yet when I make up my mind to a thing, I usually do it." - -"You usually succeed, then?" said he, with a hard smile. "It is well -to have belief in one's own strength and abilities. But sometimes -others have strength as well, and then"---- - -"And then," I answered, "it is very often a question of will." - -He smiled again and dropped the subject. - -On the third day out from San Francisco, when we were running along -the coast of Oregon, I found at last an opportunity of speaking to -Elsie. I first went to Fanny. - -"Fanny, my dear girl, I want to speak to you a few minutes." I sat -down beside her. - -"I think you know, Fanny, why I am here, don't you?" I asked. - -"It is tolerably obvious, Mr. Ticehurst," she answered rather -gravely, I thought. - -"Yes, I suppose it is; but first I want to be sure whether you were -right about what you told me on the morning we left San Francisco." - -I was silent, and looked at her. She seemed a trifle distressed. - -"Well, Tom, I thought that I was," she answered at length; "and I -still think I am--and yet I don't know. You see, Elsie is a strange -girl, and never confides in anyone since dear mother died, and she -would never confess anything to me. Still, I have eyes in my head, -and ears too. But since you have been with us she has been harder -and colder than I ever saw her in all my life, and she has said -enough to make me think that there is something that I know nothing -about which makes her so. You know, I joked her about you yesterday, -and she got so angry all of a sudden, like pouring kerosene on a -fire, and she said you were a coward. When I asked her why, she -turned white and wouldn't answer. Then I said of course you must be -a coward if she said so, but I didn't think she had any right to say -it or think it when you had saved all our lives by your coolness and -courage. And then, you know, I got angry and cried, because I like -you very much, just as much as I do my brother on the station at -home. And I said she was a cruel beast, and all kinds of horrid -things, until I couldn't think of anything but making faces at her, -just as I did when I was a child. And we are having a quarrel now, -and it is all about you--you ought to be proud." And Fanny looked up -half laughing and half crying, for she dearly loved Elsie, as I knew. - -"Well, my dear little sister Fanny," I said, "for you shall be my -sister one day, there is something that makes her think ill of me, -but it is not my fault, as far as I can see. And I can't convince -her of that, except by showing her that I am not the man she thinks, -unless some accident puts me back into the place I once believed I -held in her thoughts. But I want to speak to her, and I must do it -to-day. To-morrow we shall be in Victoria, and I should not like to -part with her without speaking. If I talk with her now, it will -probably take some time, so I want you, if you can, to prevent anyone -interrupting us." - -Fanny nodded, and wiped away a tear in a quick manner, just as if it -were a fly. - -"Very well, I will. You know I trust you, if Elsie doesn't." And -she went over to Harmer, who was in a fidget, and kept looking at me -as if he was wondering what I meant by talking so confidentially to -Fanny. - -I found Elsie sitting by herself just forward of the funnel. She was -reading, and though when I spoke she answered and put the book down -in her lap, she kept looking at it in a nervous way, as if she wished -I had not interrupted her; and we had been talking some minutes -before she seemed to wholly forget that it was there. - -I spoke without any thought of what I was going to say. - -"Miss Fleming (see, I call you that, though a little while ago it was -Elsie), I have determined to speak to you in spite of the way you -avoid me." - -"I would rather you did not, Mr. Ticehurst," she said. - -"It has come to a time when I must do as I think fit, even if I am -rude and rough. I have something to say, and mean to say it, Miss -Fleming; and if I word it in rough or broken fashion, if I stumble -over it or stammer with my tongue, you will know why, just as you -know why I am here. Come now, why am I on this steamer?" - -She remained mute, with her head bent down, and the gold of her hair -loose over her eyes, so that I could not see them. But she trembled -a little, and was ripping one of the pages of her book. I took hold -of it and put it down. She made no remonstrance, and I began to feel -that I had power over her, though how far it went I could not tell. - -"Why am I here?" I went on scornfully. "Oh, on a pleasure trip to -see the advertised coast from San Francisco to Sitka, to behold Mount -Elias and its glaciers! By Heavens, I think I have ice nearer at -hand! Oh, it is business? I wish to gain wealth, so I give up what -I understand, and go into what is as familiar to me as a sextant is -to a savage! It can't be business. Do you know what it is, Miss -Fleming? Look, I think there was a girl who I knew once, but she was -a kind, bright girl, who was joyous, whom I called by her Christian -name, who walked by my side in the moonlight, when the sails were -silvered and their shadows dark, when I kept the first watch in the -_Vancouver_. I wonder what has become of her? That girl would have -known, but----" - -I stopped, and she was still stubborn. But she did not move. I went -on again: - -"There must be evil spirits on the sea that fly like petrels in the -storm, and come on board ship and enter into the hearts of those they -find there. Why----" - -"I fear, Mr. Ticehurst," she interrupted, "that you think me a fool. -If I am not, then your talk is vain; and if I am, I surely am not fit -to mate with you. Let us cease to talk about this, for it is -useless!" - -I was almost choking with passion; it was so hard to be misconceived, -even though she had so much reason on her side. Yet, since I knew -she was wrong, I almost wished to shake her. - -"No!" I said at last, "I will not go until I have an understanding -one way or the other. We have been beating about the bush, but I -will do it no longer. You know that I love you!" - -She drew herself up. - -"How many can you love at a time, Mr. Ticehurst?" she said. - -"One, only one," I replied. "You are utterly mistaken." - -"I am not mistaken!" she said; "and I think you are a coward and a -traitor. If you were not, I might love you; but as you are, such a -thing is impossible." - -I caught her by the wrist. Instinctively she tried to free herself, -but finding she could not, looked up. When she caught my eye, her -indignant remonstrance died on her lips. - -"Look you, Elsie, what can I do? Perhaps I cannot defend myself; -there are some situations where a man cannot for the sake of others. -I can say no more about that. And I will make you see you are wrong, -if not by proof, by showing you what I am--a man incapable of what -you think me--and in the end I will make you love me." I paused for -a moment, but she did not move. - -"You have listened to me; Elsie, and you can see what I mean, you can -think whether I shall falter or swerve; and now I ask you, for I am -assured you do love me, or that you did, whether you will not trust -me now? For you cannot believe that I could speak as I do if I had -done what you think." - -I looked at Elsie, and she was very pale. I could see that I had -moved her, had shaken her conviction, that she was at war with -herself. I got up, went to the side, and then turned, beckoning to -her to look over to seaward with me. She came almost like a woman -walking in her sleep, and took a place by my side. I did so to avoid -notice, for I feared to attract attention; indeed, I saw two -passengers looking at us curiously, one of whom smiled so that I -began to wish to throw him overboard. Yet I think, as a matter of -fact, I did wrong in allowing her to move; it broke the influence I -held over her in a measure, for I have often noticed since that to -obtain control of some people one should keep steadily insisting on -the one point, and never allow them to go beyond, or even to think -beyond it. But then to do so one must be stronger than I was, or he -will lose control over himself, as I did, and so make errors in -judgment. - -"Elsie," I said quietly, "are you not going to answer me? Or am I -not worth it?" - -Now, up to this moment I had taken her away from the past; in her -emotion she had almost forgotten Helen; she was just wavering and was -on the point of giving in to me. Yet by that last suggestion of mine -I brought it back to her. I could see in her mind the darker depths -of her fear and distrust of me, and what I rightly judged her hatred -and jealousy of Helen. Though I do not think I know much of -character, yet in the state of mind that I was in then I seemed to -see her mind, as a much more subtle man might have done, and my own -error. I could have cursed my own folly. She had taken the book -again, and was holding it open in her hand. Until I spoke she held -it so lightly that it shook and wavered, but she caught it in both -hands and shut it suddenly, as though it was the book of her heart -that I had been reading, and she denied my right to do it. And she -turned toward me cold once more, though by a strange influence she -caught my thought. - -"This is a closed book, Mr. Ticehurst. It is the book of the past, -and--it is gone for ever." She dropped it over the side with a -mocking smile. But I caught hold of her hand and held it. - -"Ah!" said I, "then we begin again. If the past is dead, the present -lives, and the future is yet unborn. You mean one thing now, and I -mean the other; but in the future we shall both mean the same. -Remember what I say, Elsie--remember it. For unless I am dead, I -will be your acknowledged lover and your husband at last." - -I dropped her hand and walked away, and when I looked back I saw her -following me with her eyes. I would have given much then to have -been able to know of what she thought. I went below and slept for -many hours a sleep of exhaustion, for though a man may be as strong -as a lion physically, an excess of emotion takes more from him than -the most terrible physical toil. - -The next morning we were in Victoria, and I neither had, nor did I -seek, an opportunity of again speaking with Elsie. But I did talk -for a few moments with Fanny. I told her some part of what occurred, -but not much. She said as much: - -"You are keeping something back, Tom. I think you know some reason -why Elsie won't have anything to do with you?" - -"I do, Fanny," I replied: "but there is nothing in it at all, and one -of these days she will discover it." - -"I hope so," said she, a little dryly for so young a girl; "but Elsie -is a little obstinate, and I have seen horses that would not jump a -gate. You may have to open it yet, Tom." - -"It may open of it itself, Fanny, or the horse may desire the grass -and jump at last; but I will never open it myself." - -And I shook hands with her and Mr. Fleming. I took off my hat to -Elsie, but said in a low voice: - -"Remember what I said, Elsie, for I shall never forget." And then -she turned away; but did not look back this time, as she had done -when we parted in the hotel. Yet such is the curious state a lover -is in that I actually comforted myself that she did not, for if she -had, I said, it would have showed she was callous and cold. Perhaps, -though she kept command over herself just for the time, it failed her -at the last, and she would not let me see it. - -When they were gone, Harmer and I went ashore too. As to the boy, he -was so desperately in love--calf-love--that I had to cheer him up, -and the way I did it makes me laugh now, for I have a larger -experience of boys and men than I had then. - -"Never mind, Harmer," said I, "you will get over this in no time--see -if you don't." - -He turned round in a blazing rage, and I think if it had not been for -the effects of the old discipline, which was yet strong upon him, he -would have sworn at me; for although Harmer looked as if butter -wouldn't melt in his mouth, I knew he had a very copious vocabulary -of abuse at his command, such as one learns only too easily at sea. - -"What, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said stammering. "Get over it? I never -shall, and I don't want to, and, what's more, I wouldn't if I could! -It's not kind of you to say so, and I think--I think----" - -"What, Jack?" said I, thunderstruck at this outburst, when I meant -consolation. - -"That you'll get over it first. There now!" said he, triumphant with -this retort I burst into laughter. - -"Well--well, Harmer, I didn't mean to vex you. We must not quarrel -now, for Jordan's a hard road to travel, I believe, and you and I -have got to make lots of money; at least you have; if we are going to -do anything in this country. For it's what the Yankees call a tough -place." - -"Yes," replied Harmer, now ashamed of of being angry. "I heard one -fellow say to another on the steamer, 'You goldarned fellers from the -East think you're going to get a soft seat over here, but you bet -you'll have to rustle on the Pacific Slope or else git!' And then he -turned to me. 'D'ye hear that, young feller?--you've got to rustle -right smart, or you'll get left.'" - -And Jack laughed heartily trying to imitate the accent of his -adviser, but he found it hard to disguise his own pure English, -learnt in a home far across the seas and the wide stretch of the -American Continent. - -That night we stayed in Victoria in a rough hotel kept by two -brothers, Cornishmen, who invited us both to have drinks on the -strength of our all being Englishman, though I should never have -suspected that they were such, so well did their accent disguise the -truth from me. And in the morning, two days after, we went on board -the _Western Slope_ bound for New Westminster, on the mainland of -British Columbia, whither the Flemings had preceded us. - - - - -PART III. - -A GOLDEN LINK. - -What I have just written is but the connecting link between two -series of events--the hyphen between two words; and I shall not try -to hurry on to the strange drama of a few days to which all that -precedes it has been but the inevitable prologue, without which there -were no clear understanding of its incidents. I am going, therefore, -to dispose of a whole year's events in a few words, though much -occurred in that time which might be worth relating, if I were a -professional writer, able to make things interesting to all, or if I -had the faculty of making word-pictures of places and scenes which -stand out clearly before me whenever I reflect, and the full times of -the past come up for review. - -What Jack Harmer and I did for that year truly would take ten times -the space I have allowed myself, and have been allowed, and I shall -say but little now if I can only dispose of that twelve months in a -way that places my readers in a position to clearly understand what -passed in the thirteenth month after I had landed in British Columbia. - -Now on our landing we had but £40 between us, and I was the possessor -of nearly all that amount, about two hundred dollars in American -currency. It is true I had a hundred and fifty pounds in England, -which I had sent for, and Harmer had quite coolly asked his father -for fifty, which I may state here he did _not_ get in a letter which -advised him to return to England, and go in for something worth -having before it was too late. - -"He means the Civil Service, I know," said Jack, when he read the -letter; "and I hate the notion. They are all fossils in it, and if -they have brains to start with, they rarely keep them--why should -they? They're not half as much use as a friend at court." - -Perhaps he was right, yet I advised him to take his father's advice, -and he took neither his nor mine, but stuck to me persistently with a -devotion that pleased and yet annoyed me. For I desired a free hand, -and with him I could not get it. I had some idea of going in for -farming when I landed. I would get a farm near Elsie's father, and -stay there. But I found I hadn't sufficient money, or anything like -sufficient, to buy land near Thomson Forks. So I looked round, and, -in looking round, spent money. Finally, I got Harmer something to do -in a sawmill on Burrard's Inlet, a position which give him sufficient -to live on, but very little more; and yet he had not to work very -hard, in fact he tallied the lumber into the ships loading in the -Inlet for China and Australia, and wrote to me that he liked his job -reasonably well, though he was grieved to be away from me. As for -myself, I went up to Thomson Forks, looked round me there, and at the -hotel fell in with a man named Mackintosh, an American from Michigan, -a great strong fellow, with a long red beard, and an eye like an -eagle's, who was going up in the Big Bend gold-hunting, prospecting -as they call it. I told him, after we got into conversation, that I -wanted to go farming. - -He snorted scornfully, and immediately began to dilate on gold-mining -and all the chances a man had who possessed the grit to tackle it. -And as I knew I really had too little money to farm with, it wasn't -long before he persuaded me to be his partner and go with him. For I -liked him at once, and was feeling so out in the cold that I was glad -to chum with anyone who looked like knowing his way about. We were -soon in the thick of planning our campaign, and Mac got very fluent -and ornamental in his language as he drank and talked. However, I -did not mind that much, although his blasphemy was British Columbian, -and rather worse than that in use on board ship. Yet people do not -think the sea a mean school of cursing. Presently, as I turned round -at the bar, I saw Mr. Fleming, who did not notice me until I spoke. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Fleming," I said; "will you drink with me?" - -He turned round sharply at the sound of my voice, and then shook my -hand, half doubtfully at first, and then more heartily. - -"Well, Ticehurst," he said at last, "I am glad to see you, after all. -Hang it, I am! for" (here he lowered his voice to a whisper) "I don't -care about the style of this place after New South Wales. They -nearly all carry revolvers here, damn it! as if they were police; and -last time I came in, my man and another fellow fought, and Siwash Jim -(that's what they call him) tried to gouge out the other chap's eyes. -And when I pulled him off, the other men growled about my spoiling a -fight. What do you think of that?" - -And the old man stared at me inquiringly, and then laughed. - -"Wish I could ask you over to the Creek, but I can't, and you know -why. Take my advice and go back to sea. Now, look here, let's speak -plain. I know you want Elsie; but it's a mistake, my boy. She -didn't care for you; and I know her, she's just like her mother, the -obstinatest woman you ever saw when she made up her mind. I wouldn't -mind much if she did care for you, though perhaps you aint so rich as -you ought to be, Tom. But then my wife had more money than I had by -a long sight, so I don't care for that. But seeing that Elsie -doesn't want you, what's the use? Take my advice and go to sea -again." - -Here he stopped and gave me the first chance of speaking I had had -since I accosted him. - -"Thank you, Mr. Fleming," I said firmly; "but I can't go back yet. I -am glad you have no great objection to me yourself, but I believe -that Elsie hasn't either, and I'm bound to prove it; and I will." - -"Well, you know best," he replied. "But mind your eye, old boy, when -your friend the Malay comes out. I shouldn't like to be on the same -continent with him, if I were you." - -"I don't like being either," I said. "But then it shows how fixed I -am on one object. And I shall not go, even if he were to find out -where I am. For I might have to kill him. Yet I don't see how he -can find out. Nobody knows or will know, except my brother, and he -won't tell him." - -Fleming shrugged his shoulders and dropped the subject to take up his -own affairs. - -"Damn this country, my boy! give me a plain where I can see a few -miles. On my soul, this place chokes me; I can't look out five -hundred yards for some thundering old mountain! At the Creek there -are hills at the back, at the front, and on both sides, and nearly -all are chokeful of trees, so that riding after the cattle is worse -than going after scrub cattle in Australia. I can't get the hang of -the place at all, and though I am supposed to own nearly two hundred -head of cattle, I can't muster seventy-five on my own place. Some -are up at Spullamacheen, some on the Nicola, and others over at the -Kettle River on the border, for all I know. And the place is full of -cañons, as they call gulches in this place; and thundering holes they -are, two hundred feet deep, with a roaring stream at the bottom. The -Black Cañon at the back of my place gives me the shivers. I am like -a horse bred on the plains; when it gets on the mountains it is all -abroad, and shivers at the sight of a sharp slope. I reckon I can -ride on the flat, old as I am, but here, if it wasn't for my -scoundrel Siwash Jim, who says he knows the country like a book, I -shouldn't know where to go or what to do. Here he comes, the -vagabond!" - -I had learnt by this time that Siwash means Indian, for in that -country they say Siwashes instead of Indians, so I thought Jim was -one of the natives. However, I saw at once he wasn't, for though he -was dark, his features were pure white. He had earned his nickname -by living with the Indians for so many years that he was more at home -with them than with white people, and he had acquired all their vices -as well as a goodly stock of his own, probably inherited. He was a -slightly built man of about forty, with a low forehead, a sharp -aquiline nose, and no lips to speak of; his mustache was short, and a -mere line; his teeth were black with smoking and chewing; his legs -bowed with continual riding. He wore mocassins, and kept his hair -long. He was more than half intoxicated when he came in, carrying a -stock-whip coiled round his neck. He did not speak, but drank -stolidly; and when he looked at me, I fancied it was with an air of -dislike, as though he had read my thoughts and knew how I regarded -him. - -I drew Fleming aside. - -"I don't like him," said I; "and wouldn't trust him farther than I -could swing a bull by the tail. Do the girls like him?" - -"Like him!" repeated Fleming, "they hate him, and want me to give him -the bounce, as they say here. Elsie says he looks like a murderer, -and Fanny that he is uglier than a Murrumbidgee black fellow. But -then he knows the country and does his work, and don't want to go. I -don't care much either way, for when I can get all the cattle -together and put the place in order I shall sell out and go back. -Stay in British Columbia--no, sir, I won't! not if they make me -Governor. I tell you I like to be where I can see ten miles. Then I -can breathe. I can go out at home and see all my station and almost -count the sheep and cattle from my door; and here I have to ride up -and ride down, and I never know where I am. I'm going back just as -soon as I can." - -And he went away then without asking where I was going or whether I -was doing anything. Next morning I jumped on board the steamer with -Mac and started for the head of the Shushwap Lakes. Thence we went -into the Big Bend, and though we never made the millions Mac was -always prophesying about and hungering for, our summer's work was not -wasted. For before the season was over we had struck a rich pocket -and made about four thousand dollars a piece. - -Of course I wanted to up stick and go back as soon as I had as much -as that, but Mac would not hear of it. - -"No, Tom--no," said he; "there's more here yet." - -And he eyed me so entreatingly that I caved in and promised to remain -with him prospecting, at any rate till the first snow. - -But a week after making that agreement we both went down to the -Columbia for more provisions. Finding none there, we had to make the -farther journey to the Landing. There I found a letter waiting for -me from Harmer, saying that he was tired of the sawmill on the Inlet, -and wanted to join me. I wrote back requesting him to be good enough -to stay where he was, but, to console him, promised that if I saw any -chance of his doing better with me I would send for him. He asked -rather timidly for news of Fanny. How could I give him news when I -knew nothing of Elsie? Yet the simple mention of the girl's name -again made me anxious to get back to the Forks, and if one of the -steamers had come up the lake I think I should have deserted Mac in -spite of my promise. Yet we had only brought down half the gold that -trip, perhaps because my partner had made a calculation as to what I -might do, having it on me, if we got within reach of some kind of -civilization, and I thought it best to secure the rest while I could, -though I thoroughly trusted Mac. At the same time that I answered -Harmer's letter I wrote one to my brother, telling him both what I -had done and what I proposed doing later on. And I begged him to be -careful, if he should be in San Francisco then, of the Malay when his -time was up. For although his chief spite was against me, yet Will -was my brother, and I well remembered the look that he had cast on -him when he was kicked in the struggle between Will and myself. - -The rest of the summer--and a beautiful season it was in the wooded -mountains--was spent in very unsuccessful prospecting. For one -thing, after our success Mac had taken to prospecting for pockets; -and if gold-mining be like gambling as a general rule, that is almost -pure chance. Once or twice he was in high spirits at good -indications, but on following them up we were invariably -disappointed, and we had to start again. August and September -passed, and the higher summits above us were already white with snow, -which fell on us in the lower valleys as rain. In October there was -a cessation of bad weather for a time, and Mac promised himself a -long fall season, but at the end of it we woke one morning to find a -foot of snow on our very camping ground. - -"We shall have to get up and get," said I cheerfully, for I was glad -of it. - -"Oh, no!" said Mac; "this is nothing. It will all go again by -to-morrow; there will be nothing to stop us from another week or two. -Besides, yesterday I had a notion that I saw something. I didn't -tell you, but I found another bit of quartz--aye, richer than the -piece I showed you at the Forks, Tom, and we've got to find out where -it comes from." - -I groaned, but, in spite of argument, there was no moving him; and -though I was angry enough to have gone off by myself, yet knowing -neither the trail nor the country well, I had no desire to get lost -in the mountains, which would most assuredly have meant death to me. -However, I still remonstrated, and at last got him to fix ten days as -the very longest time he would remain: I was obliged to be content -with that. - -But Mac was sorry before the hour appointed for our departure that he -had not taken my advice, "tenderfoot" and Englishman though I was. -On the evening of the eighth day the temperature, which had up to -that time been fairly warm in spite of our altitude and the advanced -season, fell suddenly, and it became bitterly cold. Our ponies, who -had managed to pick up a fair living on the plateau where our camp -stood, and along the creek bottoms, came right up to our tent, and -one of them put his head inside. "Dick," as we called him, was a -much gentler animal than most British Columbian cayuses, and had made -a friend of me, coming once a day at least for me to give him a piece -of bread, of which he had grown fond, though at first he was as -strange with it as a young foal with oats. I put up my hand and -touched his nose, which was soft and silky, while the rest of his -coat was long and rough. He whinnied gently, and I found a crust for -him, and then gently repulsing him, I fastened the fly of the tent. -Mac was fast asleep under his dark blankets, whence there came sudden -snorts like those a bear makes in his covert, or low rumblings like -thunder from a thick cloud. - -But it was he who woke me in the morning, and he did it without -ceremony. - -"Get up, old man!" he said hurriedly, while he was jamming himself, -as it were, into his garments. "The snow's come at last--and, by -thunder, it's come to stay! There's no time to be lost!" And he -vanished into the white space outside. - -When I followed I found him already at work packing the ponies, and -without any words I set to, struck the tent, rolled it up, and got -together everything I thought should go. When I touched the tools -Mac turned round. - -"Leave 'em, pard--leave 'em. There's plenty of weight without that. -Aye, plenty--and too much!" - -The last I only just caught, for it was said to himself. In half an -hour we were off, leaving behind us nearly three weeks' provisions, -all the tools but two light shovels, and what remained after our -working the quartz. - -"It's worth a thousand dollars," said Mac, regretfully, "but without -a proper crusher it's only tailings." - -We moved off camp, Mac first, leading the nameless pony, which was -the stronger of the two, and I following with Dick. - -The snow was two feet deep in many parts, and in some drifts much -more than that. Fortunately, the trail was for its greater length -well sheltered, both by overhanging rocks and big trees, spruce, -cedar, hemlock, and pine, which helped to keep it clear; but it was -evident to me by the way the ponies traveled, and the labor it was -for me to get along with no other burden than the shovel, from which -I sometimes used to free Dick, that another fall of snow would make -traveling almost impossible. Mac walked on in somber silence, -reflecting doubtless that it was his obstinacy which had brought us -into trouble, a thing I confess I was not so forgiving as to forget, -though merciful enough not to remind him of it. It had taken us -three days to come up from the Columbia, and it seemed barely -possible under the circumstances to retrace our steps in the same -time, even although the horses were not so much burdened and there -was not so much hard climbing to be done. But I could see Mac was -bent on getting out, and he traveled without more rest than we were -absolutely compelled to take on account of the animals. As for -myself, I confess that though I had traveled that same trail twice, -yet so greatly was it altered by the snow that I should have lost my -way in the first mile. For mountaineering and the knowledge of -locality are things not to be learnt in a hurry, they must come by -long custom, or by native instinct. - -Sorrowfully--for I am always loth to harm even a noxious animal, as -long as it leaves me alone--I suggested to Mac that we should leave -the horses. He shook his head. - -"Who'll carry the provisions, then?" said he. - -"Do you think we can get to the Landing, Mac?" I asked. - -"We shall be lucky," he answered, with a significant nod, "if we get -to the other side of the Columbia. Tom, I think I have let you in -for a winter up here, unless you care about snow-shoeing it over the -other pass. I was a fool--say yes to that if you like." - -It was late when we camped, but my partner was in better spirits than -he had been at noon when we held the above conversation, for we had -done, by dint of forced marching, quite as much as we did in fine -weather. But the ponies were very tired, and there was nothing for -them to eat, or next to nothing, for the grass was deeply buried. I -gave Dick a little bread, however, and the poor animal was grateful -for it, and stood by me all night, until, at the earliest dawn, we -packed them again with a load that was lighter by the day's food of -two men, and heavier to them by a day's hard toil and starvation. - -Toward the afternoon of that, the second day, we came to the hardest -part of the whole trail, for, on crossing a river which was freezing -cold, we had to climb the side of an opposing mountain. Mac's pony -traveled well, and though he showed evident signs of fatigue, he was -in much better case than mine, who every now and again staggered, or -sobbed audibly with a long-drawn breath. I drew Mac's attention to -it, but he shook his head. - -"He must go on, there's no two ways about it." And he marched off. -I went behind Dick and pushed him for a while, and though I tired -myself, yet I am not sorry for what I did, even that little -assistance was such a relief to the poor wretched animal who, from -the time he was able to bear a weight, had been used by a packer -without rest or peace, as though he were a machine, and whose only -hope of release was to die, starved, wounded, saddle and girth -galled, of slow starvation at last. Such is the lot of the pack -horse, and, though poor Dick's end was more merciful, his fellows -have no better fate to expect, while their life is a perpetual round -of ill-usage and hard work. - -By about four o'clock in the afternoon the sky grew overcast, and the -light feathery flakes of snow came at first slowly, and then faster, -turning what blue distances we caught sight of to a gray, finally -hiding them. Dick by this time was almost at a standstill. I never -thought I was a very tender-hearted man, and never set up to be; -indeed, if he had been only stubborn, I might have thrashed him in a -way some folks would call cruel; and yet, being compelled to urge -him, both for his sake and my own, I confess my heart bled to see his -suffering and wretchedness. Having scarcely the strength to lift his -feet properly, he had struck his fetlocks against many projecting -stones and roots until the blood ran down and congealed on his little -hoofs, which were growing tender, as I could see by the way he winced -on a rockier piece of the trail than common. His rough coat was -standing up and staring like that of a broken-haired terrier, in -spite of the sweat which ran down his thin sides and heaving flanks; -while every now and again he stumbled, and with difficulty recovered -himself. - -When we came to the divide, just as if he had said that he would do -so much for us, he stumbled again, and fell on the level ground, -cutting his knees deeply. Mac heard the noise, and, leaving his pony -standing, he came back to me. - -"He's done up, poor devil!" said he; "he'll go no further. What -shall we do?" - -I shook my head, for it was not I who arranged or ordered things when -Mac was about. He was silent for a while. - -"There's nothing for it," he said at last, "but one thing. We must -put all the other kieutan can stand on him." - -By this time I had got the pack off Dick, and he lay down perfectly -flat upon his side, with the blood slowly oozing from his knees, and -his flanks still heaving from the exertions which had brought him up -the hill to die on the top of it. - -"Come on," said Mac, as he moved off with what he meant to put on the -other pony. - -But at first I could not go. I put my hand in my pocket, took out a -piece of bread, and, kneeling down by the poor animal, I put it to -his lips. He mumbled it with his teeth and dropped it out. Then in -my hat I got some water out of a little pool and offered it to him. -He drank some and then fell back again. I took my revolver from my -belt, stroked his soft nose once more, and, putting the weapon to his -head between his eye and ear, I fired. He shivered all over, -stiffened a little, and all was still except for the slow drip of the -blood that ran out of his ear from a vein the ball had divided. Then -I went on--and I hope no one will think me weak if I confess my sight -was not quite so clear as it had been before, and if there was a -strange haziness about the cruelly cold trail and mountain side that -did not come from the falling snow. - -At our camp that night we spoke little more than was absolutely -necessary, and turned in as soon as we had eaten supper, drunk a tin -of coffee, and smoked a couple of pipes. Fortunately for the -remaining horse, in the place we had reached there was a little feed, -a few tussocks of withering frost-nipped bunch grass, which he ate -greedily to the last roots his sharp teeth could reach. And then he -pawed or "rustled" for more, using his hoof to bare what was hidden -under the snow. But for that we should have left him on the trail -next morning. - -The toil and suffering of the third day's march were dreadful, for I -grew footsore, and my feet bled at the heels, while the skin rose in -blisters on every toe, which rapidly became raw. But Mac was a man -of iron, and never faltered or grew tired; and his example, and a -feeling of shame at being outdone by another, kept me doggedly behind -him at a few paces' distance. How the pony stood that day was a -miracle, for he must have been made of iron and not flesh and blood -to carry his pack, while climbing up and sliding down the steep -ascents and slopes of the hills, while every few yards some -wind-felled tree had to be clambered over almost as a dog would do -it. He was always clammy with sweat, but he seemed in better -condition than on the second day, perhaps on account of the grass he -had been able to get during the night. Yet he had had to work all -night to get it, while I and Mac had slept in the torpor of great -exhaustion. - -Late in the evening we came to the banks of the Columbia, across -which stretched sandy flats and belts of scrub, until the level -ended, and lofty mountains rose once more, covered with snow and -fringed with sullen clouds, thousands of feet above where we stood. -Mac stopped, and looked anxiously across the broad stream; and when -he saw a faint curl of bluish smoke rising a mile away in the sunless -air, he pointed to it with a more pleased expression that I had seen -on his face since he had roused me so hurriedly on that snowy morning -three days ago. - -"There is somebody over there, at any rate, old man," he said almost -cheerfully, "though I don't know what the thunder they're doing here, -unless it's Montana Bill come up trapping. He said he was going to -do it, but if so, what's he doing down here?" - -"Can't he trap here, then?" I asked. - -"Well," replied Mac, "this might be the end of his line; but still, -he ought to be farther up in the hills. There isn't much to trap -close down on this flat. You see trappers usually have two camps, -and they walk the line during the day, and take out what is caught in -the night, setting the traps again, and sleeping first at one end and -then at the other. However, we shall see when we get across." And -he set about lighting a fire. - -When we had crossed before there had been a rough kind of boat built -out of pine slabs, which was as crazy a craft to go in as a -butter-tub. It had been made by some hunters the winter before, and -left there when they went west in the early spring, before we came -up. I asked Mac what had become of it, for it was not where we had -left it, hauled up a little way on a piece of shingle and tied to a -stump. - -"Somebody took it," he said, "or more likely, when the water rose -after we crossed, it was carried away. Perhaps it's in the Pacific -by this." - -I went down to the stump, and found there the remains of the painter, -and as it had been broken violently and not cut, I saw that his last -suggestion was probably correct. - -We sat down to supper by our fire, which gleamed brightly in the -gathering darkness on the surrounding snow and the waters close -beneath us, and ate some very vile bacon and a greasy mess of beans -which we had cooked the night before we left our mountain camp. - -"How are we going to cross, Mac?" said I, when we had lighted our -pipes. - -"Build a raft," said he. - -"And then?" - -"When we are over?" - -"Yes." - -"Why, stay there, I guess, if it snows any more. One more fall of -heavy snow will block Eagle Pass as sure as fire's hot!" - -I shrugged my shoulders. Though I had been expecting this, it was -not pleasant to have the prospect of spending a whole winter mewed up -in the mountains, so close before me. - -"Does it get very cold here?" I asked at length, when I had reflected -for a while. - -He nodded sardonically. - -"Does it get cold? Is it cold now?" - -I drew closer to the fire for an answer. - -"Then this is nothin'--nothin' at all. It would freeze the tail off -a brass monkey up here. It goes more than forty below zero often and -often; and it's a worse kind of cold than the cold back east, for -it's damper here, and not so steady. Bah! I wish I was a bear, so -as to hole up till spring." - -All of which was very encouraging to a man who had mostly sailed in -warm latitudes, and hated a frost worse than poison. And it didn't -please me to see that so good-tempered a man as Mac was really put -out and in a vile humor, for he knew what I could only imagine. - -The conversation--if conversation it could be called--flagged very -soon, and we got out our blankets, scraping away the snow from a -place, where we lay close to each other in order to preserve what -warmth we could. We lay in the position commonly called in America -"spooning," like two spoons fitting one into another, so that there -had to be common consent for changing sides, one of which grew damp -while the other grew cold. Just as we were settling down to sleep we -heard the sudden crack of a rifle from the other shore, and against -the wind came a "halloa" across the water, Mac sat up very -unconcernedly; but, as for me, I jumped as if I had been shot, -thinking of course at first that the shot had been fired by Indians, -though I knew there were no hostile tribes in that part of British -Columbia, where, indeed, most of the Indians are very peaceable. - -"I told you so," said Mac; "that's Montana Bill's rifle. I sold it -him myself. He's the only man up here that carries a Sharp." - -He rose, and went down to the water's edge. "Halloa!" he shouted, in -his turn, and in the quietness of the windless air I heard it faintly -repeated in distant echoes. - -"Is that you, Mac?" said the mysterious voice. - -"You bet it is!" answered my partner, in a tone that ought to have -been heard on the Arrow Lake. - -"Bully old boy!" said Bill faintly, as it seemed. "Do you know me?" - -"Aye, I reckon I know old Montana's bellow!" roared Mac. - -"Then I'll see you in the morning, pard!" came the voice again, after -which there was silence, broken only by the faint lap of the water on -the shingle, as it slipped past, and the snort of our pony as he blew -the snow out of his nostrils, vainly seeking for a tuft of grass. - -We rose at earliest dawn, and saw Montana Bill slowly coming over the -level. He sat down while Mac and I built a raft, and fashioned a -couple of rude paddles with the ax. - -"Is the pony coming across, Mac?" I asked. - -"We'll try it, but it's his own lookout," said he; "if he won't come -easy we shan't drag him, for we shall hev to paddle to do it -ourselves." - -Fortunately for him he did want to go over, and, having a long lariat -round his neck, he actually swam in front of us, and gave us a tow -instead of our giving him one. - -As we were going over, Mac said to me: - -"I never thought I'd be glad to see Montana Bill before. He's got -more gas and blow about him than'd set up a town, and he's no more -good at bottom--that is, he aint no more grit in him than a clay -bank, though to hear him talk you'd think he'd mor'n a forty-two inch -grindstone. But I hope he's got a good stock of grub." - -In a few minutes we touched bottom, and we shook hands with the -subject of Mac's eulogium, who looked as bold as brass, as fierce as -a turkeycock, and had the voice of a man-o'-war's bo'son. We took -the lariat off the pony, and turned him adrift. - -"Did you fellows strike it?" said Bill, the first thing. - -"Enough to pay for our winter's board, I reckon," said Mac. "Have -you got plenty of grub?" - -Bill nodded, using the common American word for yes, which is a kind -of cross-breed between "yea" and the German "Ja," pronounced short -like "ye." - -"You bet I've plenty. Old Hank kem up with me, and then he cleared -out again. He and I kind of disagreed first thing, and he just -skinned out. Good thing too--for him!" - -And Bill looked unutterable things. - -"Is there any chance of getting out over the pass?" asked Mac. - -"If you can fly," answered Bill. "Drifts is forty foot deep in -parts, and soft too. I could hardly get on snow-shoein' it. Better -stay and trap with me. Better'n gold-huntin' any time, and more -dollars in it." - -"Why aint you farther up in the hills?" asked Mac, as we tramped -along. - -"Dunno," said Bill; "I allers camp here every year. It's kind of -clear, and there's a chance for the cayuses to pick a bit to keep -bones and hide together. Besides, I feel more freer down here. I -see more than 'ull do me of the hills walking the line." - -And with that we came to his camp. - -Now, if I tell all that happened during that winter, which was, all -round, the most uncomfortable and most unhappy one I ever spent, for -I had so much time to think of Elsie, and how some other man more to -her mind might go to windward of me in courting her--why, I should -not write one book, but two, which is not my intention now. Besides, -I have been long enough coming to the most serious part of my history -to tire other people, as it has tired me; although I could not -exactly help it, because all, or at least nearly all, that happened -between the time I was on the _Vancouver_ and the time we all met -again seems important to me, especially as it might have gone very -differently if I had never been gold-hunting in the Selkirks, or even -if I had got out of the mountains in the fall instead of the -following spring. For things seem linked together in life, and, in -writing, one must put everything in unless more particular -description becomes tedious, because of its interfering with the -story. And though trapping is interesting enough, yet I am not -writing here about that or hunting, which is more interesting still; -and when a man tells me a yarn he says is about a certain thing, I -don't want him to break off in the middle to say something quite -different, any more than I like a man to get up in the middle of a -job of work, such as a long splice which is wanted, to do something -he wasn't ordered to do. It's only a way of doing a literary Tom -Cox's traverse, "three times round the deck house, and once to the -scuttle-butt"--just putting in time, or making what a literary friend -of mine calls "padding." - -So folks who read this can understand why I shall say nothing of this -long and weary winter, and, if they prefer it, they can think that we -"holed up," as Mac said, like the bears, and slept through it all. -For in the next part of this yarn it will be spring, with the snow -melting fast, and the trail beginning to look like a path again that -even a sailor, who was not a mountaineer, could hope to travel on -without losing his life, or even his way. - - - - -PART IV. - -LOVE AND HATE. - -It had been raining for a week in an incessant torrent, while the -heavy clouds hung low down the slopes of the sullen, sunless -mountains, when we struck camp in the spring-time, and loaded our -gaunt pack-ponies for the rapidly opening trail. Our road lay for -some twenty miles on the bottom of a flat, which closed in more and -more as we went east, until we were in the heart of the Gold Range. -The path was liquid mud, in which we sank to the tops of our long -boots, sometimes even leaving them embedded there; and the ponies -were nearly "sloughed down" a dozen times in the day. At the worst -places we were sometimes compelled to take off their packs, which we -carried piecemeal to firmer ground, and there loaded them again. It -had taken us but four or four and a half days to cross it on our last -trip, and now we barely reached Summit Lake in the same time. - -Yet, in spite of the miserable weather and our dank and dripping -condition, in spite of the hard work and harder idleness, when wind -and rain made it almost impossible to sleep, I was happy--far happier -than I had been since the time I had so miserably failed to make -Elsie believe what I told her; for now I was going back to her with -the results of my long toil, and there was nothing to prevent my -staying near her, perhaps on a farm of my own, until she should -recognize her error at last. Yet, I thought it well to waste no -time, for though I had to a great extent got rid of my fears -concerning that wretched Matthias, still his imprisonment had but a -few more months to run, and he _might_ keep his word and his sworn -oath. I wished to win her and wear her before that time, and after -that, why, I did not care, I would do my best, and trust in -Providence, even if I trusted in vain. - -I have often thought since that it was strange how much John Harmer -was in my mind, from daylight even to dark, during the sixth day of -our toilsome tramp over Eagle Pass, for his image often unaccountably -came before me, and even dispossessed the fair face of her whom I -loved. But it was so, and no time during that day should I have been -very much surprised, though perhaps a little angry, to see him come -round a bend in the trail, saying half humbly and half impudently, as -he approached me, "How do you do, Mr. Ticehurst?" I almost began to -believe after that day in second sight, clairvoyance, and all the -other mysterious things which most sensible people look upon as they -do on charlatanry and the juggling in a fair, for my presentiments -came true in such a strange way; even if it was only an accident or -mere coincidence after all. Yet I have seen many things put down as -"coincidences" which puzzled me, and wiser people than Tom Ticehurst. - -We had camped in a wretchedly miserable spot, which had nothing to -recommend it beyond the fact that there really was some grass there; -for the wall of rock on our right, which both Mac and Bill considered -a protection from the wind, acted as break-winds often do, and gave -us two gales in opposite directions, instead of one. So the wind, -instead of sweeping over us and going on its way, fought and -contended over our heads, and only ceased for a moment to rush -skrieking again about our ears as it leapt on the fire and sent the -embers here and there, while the rain descended at every possible -angle. Perhaps it was on account of the fizzing of the water in the -fire, the rattle of the branches overhead, and the whistling of the -wind, that we heard no one approaching our grumbling company until -they were right upon us. I was just then half a dozen paces out in -the darkness, cutting up some wood for our fire, and as the strangers -approached the light, I let fall my ax so that it narrowly escaped -cutting off my big toe, for one of the two I saw was a boy, and that -boy John Harmer! I slouched my big hat down over my eyes, and with -some wood in my arms I approached the group and replenished the fire. -John was talking with quite a Western twang, as though he was -determined not to be taken for an Englishman. - -"Rain!" he was saying; "well, you bet it's something like it! On the -lake it takes an old hand to know which is land and which is water. -Old Hank was nearly drowned in his tent the other day." - -"Serve him right!" growled Bill. "But who are you, young feller?--I -never see you before, and I mostly know everybody in this country." - -Harmer looked up coolly, and taking off his hat, swung it round. - -"Well," he answered, "I aint what you'd call celebrated in B.C. yet, -and so you mightn't have heard of me. But if you know everybody, -perhaps you know Tom Ticehurst and can tell me where he is to be -found. For I am looking for him." - -"Oh, you are, are you?" said Bill. "Then what's he been doing that -you want him so bad as to come across in this trail this weather?" - -"He hasn't been doing anything that I know, pard," said Jack; "but I -know he was up here with a man named Mackintosh." - -"Ah! I know him," replied Bill, "in fact, I've seen him lately. Is -Tom Ticehurst a little chap with red hair and a squint?" - -"No, he isn't!" shouted Jack, as if he had been libeled instead of -me. "He's a good looking fellow, big enough to eat you." - -"Oh, is he?" sneered the joker. "I tell you what, young feller, it -would take a big man to chew up Montana Bill's little finger." - -Harmer burst out laughing. - -"So you're Montana Bill, are you?" said he. - -"I am," answered Bill as gravely as if it were a kingly title. - -"Well, then, old Hank said he could eat you up without pepper or -salt. He's as mad at you as a man can be; says he's been practicing -shooting all the winter on purpose to do you up, and he puts a new -edge on his knife every morning." - -"That'll do, young feller," put in Mac, seeing that Bill was getting -in a rage, and knowing that he was just the man to have a row with a -youngster. "You're a little too fast, you are. My name's -Mackintosh, if you want anyone of that name." - -"Do I want you!" cried Harmer anxiously; "of course I do! Do you -know where Ticehurst is?" - -"Yes," replied Mac; while I stood close beside Harmer looking down at -the fire so that he couldn't see my face--I was laughing so. - -"Then where is he? Hang it! has anything happened to him that you -fellows make such a mystery about it?" he asked getting a little -alarmed, as I could tell by the tone of his voice. - -"Well," replied Mac quietly, "I'll tell you. He was up in the hills -with me, and we struck it rich--got a lot of gold, we did, you bet we -did," he went on in an irritating drawl; "and then came down when the -snow flew. We had such a time getting out, young feller, and then at -last we came to the Columbia and there----" - -"He was drowned?" said Harmer growing pale. - -"No, he warn't," replied Mac. "We got across all right, and stayed -all winter trapping with Bill here. And let me tell you, young man, -you mustn't trifle with Bill. He's a snorter, he is." - -I could see "Damn Bill!" almost on Jack's lips, but he restrained it. - -"And when the Chinook came up, and the snow began to melt a few days -back, we all got ready to cross the range--him, and Bill, and me. -That's six days ago. And a better fellow than him you never struck, -no, nor will. What do you think, pard?" he asked with a grin, -turning to me. - -I grunted. - -"And, young feller," Mac went on again, "if he's a pardner of yours, -or a shipmate--for I can see you're an Englishman--why, I'm glad he's -here and safe." - -Then suddenly altering his tone, he turned fiercely on Harmer, who -jumped back in alarm. - -"Why the thunder don't you shake hands with him? There he is -a-waitin'." - -And John sprang across the fire and caught me by both hands. - -"Confound it, Mr. Ticehurst, how very unkind of you!" he said, with -tears in his eyes. "I began to think you were dead." And he looked -unutterably relieved and happy, but bursting with some news, I could -see. - -"Wait till supper, Jack," said I; "and then tell me. But I'm glad to -see you." - -I was too, in spite of his leaving the Inlet without asking me. - -As to the man with whom he came, Montana Bill knew him, and they -spent their time in bullying the absent Hank Patterson. It appeared -that Harmer had hired him to come and hunt for me as far as the -Columbia River, in order to bury me decently, as he had been firmly -convinced that I was dead, when he learnt no news of me at the -Landing. - -The whole five of us sat down to beans and bacon; but I and Harmer -ate very little because he wanted to tell me something which I was -strangely loth to hear, so sure was I that it could be nothing good. -It certainly must be bad news to bring even an impulsive youngster -from the coast to the Columbia in such weather. - -"Well, what is it, Harmer?" said I at last. - -He hesitated a moment. - -"Is it anything about her?" I asked quietly, lest the others should -overhear. - -"Who? Miss F.?" he asked. I nodded, and he shook his head. - -"It's no such luck," he went on; "but I am so doubtful of what I have -to tell you, although a few hours ago I was sure enough that I didn't -know how to begin. When Mat's sentence be up, Mr. Ticehurst?" - -I had no need to reckon. - -"The 15th of August, Jack." - -He looked at me, and then bent over toward me. - -"It's up already, sir." - -"What, is he dead, then?" - -"No, sir, but he has escaped." - -And he filled his pipe while I gathered myself together. It was -dreadfully unfortunate if it were true. - -"How do you know this?" I said at length, - -"I saw him in New Westminster one night." - -"The deuce you did! Harmer, are you sure?" - -The lad looked uncomfortable, and wriggled about on his seat, which -was the old stump of a tree felled by some former occupants of our -camping ground. - -"I should have been perfectly sure, if I hadn't thought he was in the -penitentiary," he said finally; "but still, I don't think I can have -mistaken his face, even though I only caught sight of it just for a -moment down in the Indian town. I was sitting in a cabin with two -other fellows and some klootchmen, and I saw him pass. There was not -much light, and he was going quick, but I jumped up and rushed out -after him. But in the rain and darkness he got away, if he thought -anyone was following him; or I missed him." - -"I'm glad you did, my boy; he would have thought little of putting -his knife into you," and here I rubbed my own shoulder mechanically. -"Besides, if he had seen you, that would have helped him to track me. -But then, how in the name of thunder (as Mac says) did he come here -at all! It can't be chance. Did you look up the San Francisco -papers to see if anything was reported as to his escape?" - -Harmer brightened as if glad to answer that he had done what I -considered he ought to have done. - -"Yes, sir, I did; but I found nothing about it, nothing at all." - -I reflected a little, and saw nothing clearly, after all, but the -imperative necessity of my getting down to the Forks. If Mat were -loose, why, I should have to be very careful, it was true; but -perhaps he might be retaken, though I did not know if a man could be -extradited for simply breaking prison. And if he came up country, -and couldn't find me, he might take it into his Oriental skull to -harm anyone I knew. The thought made me shiver. - -"Did you stay at Thomson Forks, Harmer?" I asked, to try and turn the -dark current of my thoughts. - -He blushed a little. - -"Yes, sir, but only a day. I saw no one, though." - -"What, not even Fanny?" - -"No, but I wrote to her and told her I was going up the Lakes to see -what had become of you." - -"That was kind of you, Jack," said I; "I mean it was kind of you to -come up here. How do you like the country, eh?" - -He turned round comically, shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. -I could see that early spring in the mountains did not please him, -especially as we were in the Wet Belt. - -But if he did not like the country, I found he could stand it well, -for he was as hardy as a pack pony, and never complained, not though -we were delayed a whole day by the rain, and on our return to the -Landing had to go to Thomson Forks in Indian dugouts. When we did -arrive there it was fine at last, and the sun was shining brilliantly. - -Mac, Harmer, and I were greeted in the friendliest manner at the -hotel by Dave, the bar-tender, who was resplendent with a white shirt -of the very finest get up, and diamond studs. He stood us drinks at -once. - -"You're welcome to it, gentlemen, and more too. For we did think -down here that you had been lost in the snow. We never expected to -hear of you again. I think a young lady round here must have an -interest in you, Mr. Ticehurst," said he knowingly, "for only two -days ago she called me out and asked more than particularly about -you. When I told her nobody knew enough to make a line in 'Local -Items,' unless they said, 'Nothing has yet been heard,' I reckon she -was sorry." - -"Who was it, Dave?" I asked carelessly "Was it Miss Fanny Fleming?" - -"No, sir, it was not; it was Miss Fleming herself, and I must say -she's a daisy. The best looking girl between the Rocky Mountains and -the Pacific, gentlemen! Miss Fanny is nice--a pretty girl I will -say; but----" He stopped and winked, so that I could hardly keep -from throwing my glass at his carefully combed and oiled head. But I -was happy to think that Elsie had asked after me. - -In the morning we got horses from Ned Conlan, and rode over to Mr. -Fleming's ranch, which was situated in a long low valley, that -terminated a mile above his house in a narrow gulch, down which the -creek came. On either side were high hills, covered on their lower -slopes with bunch grass and bull pines, and higher up with thick -scrub, that ran at last into bare rock, on the topmost peaks of which -snow lay for nine months of the year. As we approached the farm, we -saw a few of the cattle on the opposing slopes; and on the near side -of the valley were the farm-buildings and the house itself, which was -partly hidden in trees. We tied our horses to the fence, and marched -in, as we fancied, as bold as brass in appearance; but if Harmer felt -half as uncomfortable as I did, which I doubt, I am sorry for him. -The first person we saw was Fanny, and the first thing she did was to -upset her chair on the veranda on the top of a sleeping dog, who at -first howled, and then made a rush at us barking loudly. - -"Down, Di!" cried Fanny. "How dare you! O Mr. Ticehurst, how glad I -am you're not dead! And you, too, Mr. Harmer, though no one said you -were! Oh, where's father, I wonder--he'll be glad, too!" - -"And Elsie, will she be glad as well, Fanny?" I asked. She looked at -me slyly, and nodded. - -"You'd better ask her, I think. Here comes father." - -He rode up on horseback, followed by Siwash Jim, swinging the noose -of a lariat in his right hand, as though he had been after horses or -cattle. - -"Oh, it's you, Tom, is it?" said Fleming, who was looking very well. -"I'm glad you're not quite so dead as I was told. And you, Harmer, -how are you? Jim, take these gentlemen's horses to the stable. -You've come to stay for dinner, of course. I shan't let you go. I -heard you did very well gold-gambling last fall. Come in!" For that -news went down the country when we went to the Landing for grub. - -I followed, wondering a little whether he would have been quite so -effusive if I had done badly. But I soon forgot that when I saw -Elsie, who had just come out of her room. I thought, when I saw her, -that she was a little paler than when we had last met, though perhaps -that was due to the unaccustomed cold and the sunless winter; but she -more than ever merited the rough tribute which Dave had paid her in -Conlan's bar. She was very beautiful to them; but how much more to -me, as she came up, a little shyly, and shook hands softly, saying -that she was glad that the bad news they had heard of me was not -true. I fancied that she had thought of me often during that winter, -and perhaps had seen she had been unjust. At any rate, there was a -great difference between what she was then and what she was now. - -We talked during dinner about the winter, which the three Australians -almost cursed; in fact, the father did curse it very admirably, while -Elsie hardly reproved his strong language, so much did she feel that -forty degrees below zero merited all the opprobrium that could be -cast on it. I described our gold-mining adventures and the winter's -trapping, which, by the way, had added five hundred dollars to my -other money. - -I told Fleming that I was now worth, with some I still had at home, -more than five thousand dollars, and I could see it gave him -satisfaction. - -"What do you think of the country now, Mr. Fleming?" I asked; "and -how long shall you stay here?" - -He shook his head. - -"I don't know, my boy," he answered; "I think, in spite of the cold, -we shall have to stand another winter here. This summer I must -rebuild the barns and stables; there are still a lot of cattle adrift -somewhere; and I won't sell out under a certain sum. That's -business, you know; and I have just a little about me, though I am an -old fool at times, when the girls want their own way." - -"What would you advise me to do?" said I, hoping he would give me -some advice which I could flatter him by taking. "You see, when one -has so much money, it is only the correct thing to make more of it. -The question is how to do it." - -"That's quite right, Ticehurst--quite right!" said he energetically. -"I'm glad you talk like that; your head's screwed on right; you will -be well in yet" (an Australian phrase for our "well off"), "I'll bet -on that. Well, you can open a store, or go lumbering, or -gold-mining, or hunting, or raise cattle, like me." - -I pretended to reflect, though I nearly laughed at catching Harmer's -eye, for he knew quite well what I wanted to do. - -"Yes, Mr. Fleming, you're right. That's nearly all one can do. But -as to keeping a store, you see, I've been so accustomed to an -open-air life, I don't think it would suit me. Besides, a big man -like me ought to do something else than sell trousers! As to -gold-mining, I've done that, and been lucky once, which, in such a -gambling game, is against me. And hunting or trapping--well, there's -nothing great in that. I think I should prefer cattle-raising, if I -could do it. I was brought up on a farm in England, and why -shouldn't I die on one in British Columbia, or" (and I looked at -Elsie) "in Australia?" - -"Quite right, Tom," said Fanny, laughing, for she was too cute to -miss seeing what I meant. - -Mr. Fleming looked at me approvingly. - -"You'll die worth a lot yet, Tom Ticehurst. I like your spirit. I -was just the same once. Now, I'll tell you what. Did you ever see -George Nettlebury at the Forks?" - -"No," I replied, "not that I know of." - -"I dare say you have," said he; "he's mostly drunk; and Indian Alice, -who is always with him, usually has a black eye, as a gentle reminder -that she belongs to an inferior race, if she is his wife. Now, he -lives about two miles from here, over yonder" (he pointed over the -valley). "He has a house--a very dirty one now, it is true; a -stable, and a piece of meadow, fenced in, where he could raise good -hay if he would mend the fence and keep other folks' cattle out. He -told me the other day that he was sick to death of this place, and he -wants just enough to go East with, and return to his old trade of -shipbuilding. He says he will take $300 for the whole place, with -what is on it. That don't amount to much--two cows, one old steer, -and a cayuse he rides round on. If you like, we'll go over and see -him. You can buy it, and buy some more cattle, and if you have more -next winter than you can feed, I'll let you have the hay cheap. What -do you say?" - -My heart leapt up, but I pretended I wanted time to think about it. - -"Then let's ride over now, and you can look at the place," said he; -rising. - -Harmer would not come, so I left him with the sisters. When we -returned I was the owner of the house, stable, two cows, etc., and -George Nettlebury was fighting with Indian Alice, to whom he had -announced his intention of going East at once, and without her. - -"I'm tired of this life; it's quite disgusting!" said George, as we -departed. "I'm glad you came, Mr. Ticehurst, for I'm off too quick." - -As we rode back to Thomson Forks, Harmer asked pathetically what he -was to do. - -"We must see, Jack," I answered kindly. "We'll get you something in -town." - -"I'd rather be with you," he answered dolorously. - -"Well, you can't yet, that's certain," said I. "I can't afford to -pay you wages, when there will be no more than I can get through -myself; when there is, I'll let you know. In the meantime you must -make money, Jack. There's a sawmill in town. I know the man that -runs it--Bill Custer, and I'll go and see him for you." - -Jack sighed, and we rode on in silence until we reached the Forks. - -After we had had supper Jack and I were standing in the barroom, not -near the stove, which was surrounded by a small crowd of men, who -smoked and chewed and chattered, but close by the door for the sake -of the fresher air, when we saw Siwash Jim ride up. After tying his -horse to the rail in front of the house, to which half a dozen other -animals in various stages of equine despondency or irritation were -already attached, he swaggered into the bar, brushing against me -rather rudely as he did so. Harmer's eyes flashed with indignation, -as if it was he who had been insulted. But I am a very peaceable -man, and don't always fight at the first chance. Besides, being so -much bigger than Jim, I could, I considered, afford to take no notice -of what an ill-conditioned little ruffian like that did when he was -probably drunk. Presently Jack spoke to me. - -"That beastly fellow keeps looking at you, Mr. Ticehurst, as if he -would like to cut your throat. What's wrong with him? Is he jealous -of you, do you think?" - -It was almost blasphemy to dream of such a thing, and I looked at Mr. -John Harmer so sternly that he apologized; yet I believe it must to -some extent have been that which caused the trouble that ensued -almost directly, and added afterward to the danger in which I already -stood. I turned round and looked at Jim, who returned my glance -furiously. He ordered another drink, and then another. It seemed as -if he was desirous of making himself drunk. Presently Dave, who was, -as usual, behind the bar, spoke to him. - -"Going back to the ranch to-night, Jim?" - -Jim struck the bar hard with his fist. - -"No, I'm not! Never, unless I go to set the damned place on fire!" - -"Why, what's the matter?" asked Dave, smiling, while Harmer and I -pricked up our ears. - -"Ah! I had some trouble with old Fleming just now," said Jim, in a -hoarse voice of passion. "He's like the rest, wants too much; the -more one does, the more one may do. He's a dirty coyote, and his -girls are----" And the gentle-minded Jim used an epithet which made -both our ears tingle. - -Jack made a spring, but I caught him by the shoulder and sent him -spinning back, and walked up alongside the men. I saw my own face in -the glass at the back of the bar; it was very white, and I could -hardly recognize it. - -"Mind what you say, you infernal ruffian!" I said, in a low voice, -"or I'll break your neck for you! Don't you dare to speak about -ladies, you dog, or I'll strangle you!" He sprang back like -lightning. If he had had a six-shooter on him I think my story would -have ended here, for I had none myself. But Jim had no weapon. Yet -he was no coward, and did not "take water," or "back down," as they -say there. He steadied himself one moment, and then threw the -water-bottle at me with all his force. Though I ducked, I did not -quite escape it, for the handle caught me on the forehead near the -hair, and, in breaking, cut a gash which sent the blood down into my -left eye. But I caught hold of him before he could do anything else. -In a moment the room was in an uproar; some of the men climbed on to -the tables in order to get a view, while those outside crowded to the -door. They roared, "Leave 'em alone!" when Dave attempted to -approach, and one big fellow caught hold of Harmer and held him, -saying at the same time, as Jack told me afterward, "You stay right -here, sonny, and see 'em fight. Mebbe you'll larn something!" - -I found Jim a much tougher customer than I should have imagined, -although I might have handled him more easily if I had not been for -the time blind in one eye. But he was like a bunch of muscle; his -arms, though slender, were as tough and hard as his stock-whip -handle, and his quickness was surprising. He struck me once or twice -as we grappled, and then we fell, rolling over and over, and -scattering the onlookers, as we went, until we came against the legs -of the table, which gave way and sent three men to the floor with a -shock that shook the house. Finally, Jim got his hand in my hair and -tried to gouge out my eyes. Fortunately, it was not long enough for -him to get a good hold, but when I felt his thumbs feeling for my -eyes, all the strength and rage I ever had seemed to come to me, and -I rose suddenly with him clinging to me. For a moment we swayed -about, and then I caught his throat, pushed him at arm's length from -me, and, catching hold of his belt, I threw him right over my head. -I was standing with my back to the door, and he went through it, fell -on the sidewalk, and rolled off into the road, where he lay -insensible. - -"Very good!" said Dave; "very well done indeed! Pick him up, some of -you fellows, and see if he's dead. The son of a gun, I'll make him -pay for that bottle, and for the table! Come, have a drink, Mr. -Ticehurst. You look rather warm." - -I should think I did, besides being smothered with blood and dust. I -was glad to accept his invitation. - -"Is he dead?" I asked of Harmer, who came in just then. - -"Not he," said Jack, "he's coming to already, but I guess he'll fight -no more for a few days. That must have been a sickener. By Jove! -how strong you must be--he went out of the door like a stone out of a -sling. Lucky he didn't hit the post." And Harmer chuckled loudly, -and then went off with me to wash away the blood, and bandage the cut -in my forehead. - -When I left town in the morning I heard that Jim was still in bed and -likely to stay there for some time. And Harmer, who was going to -work with Bill Custer, promised to let me know if he heard anything -which was of importance to me. - -On my way out to my new property I met its late owner and his Indian -wife in their ricketty wagon, drawn by the horse I had not thought -worth buying. Nettlebury was more than half drunk, although it was -early in the morning, and when he saw me coming he rose up, waved his -hand to me, bellowed, "I'm a-goin' East, I am!" and, falling over the -seat backward, disappeared from view. Alice reached out her hand and -helped her husband to regain his former position. I came up -alongside and reined in my horse. - -He looked at me. - -"Been fightin' already, hev you; or did you get chucked off? More -likely you got chucked--it takes an American to ride these cay uses!" -said he half scornfully. - -"No," said I, "I wasn't chucked, and I have been fighting. Did you -hear why Siwash Jim left Fleming!" - -"No, not exactly," he returned; "but he was sassy with Miss Elsie, -and--oh, I dunno--but you hev been fightin', eh? Did you lick -him--and who was it?" - -"The man himself, Mr. Nettlebury," said I--"Jim; and I reckon I did -whip him." - -He laughed. - -"Good on you, old man! He's been wanting it this long while past; -but look out he don't put a knife in your ribs. Now then," said he -ferociously, turning to his wife, "why don't you drive on? Here, -catch hold!" and giving her the reins, he lifted his hand to strike -her. But just then the old horse started up, he fell over the seat -again, and lay there on a pile of sacking. I hardly thought he would -get East with his money, and I was right, for I hired him to work for -me soon afterward. - -When I came to the Flemings' there was no one about but the old man. - -"Busy!" said he, "you may bet I'm busy. I sent that black ruffian -off yesterday, and I've got no one to help me. What's the matter -with your head?" - -When I told him, he laughed heartily, and then shook my hand. - -"I'm glad you thrashed him, Tom," said he; "I'd have done it myself -yesterday if I had been ten years younger. When Elsie wanted him to -get some water, he growled and said all klootchmen, as he calls -'em--women, you know--were alike, Indian or white, and no good. I -told him to get out. Is he badly hurt?" - -"Not very," I answered. - -"I hoped he was," said the old man. "It's a pity you didn't break -his neck! I would as soon trust a black snake! Are you going over -yonder?" - -"I guess so," I answered; "I must get the place cleaned up a -bit--it's like a pigsty, or what they call a hog-pen in this country," - -"Well, I guess it is," he replied; "but come over in the evening, if -you like." - -I thanked him and rode off, happy in one thing at least--I was near -Elsie. I felt as if Harmer's suspicions about Mat were a mere -chimera, and that the lad in some excitement had mistaken the dark -face of some harmless Indian for that of the revengeful Malay. And -as to Siwash Jim, why, I shrugged my shoulders; I did not suppose he -was so murderously inclined as Nettlebury imagined. It would be hard -lines on me to have two men so ill disposed toward me, through no -fault of my own, as to wish to kill me. - -I went back to the Flemings' after a hard day's work, in which I -burnt, or otherwise disposed of, an almost unparalleled collection of -rubbish, including old crockery and bottles, dirty shirts and -worn-out boots, which had been accumulating indoors and out for some -ten years. After being nearly smothered, I was glad to go down to -the creek and take a bath in the clear, cold water which ran into the -main watercourse issuing, some two miles away, from the Black Cañon -at the back of the valley, concerning which Fleming had once spoken -to me. That evening at his ranch was the pleasantest I ever spent in -my life up to that time, in spite of the black cloud which hung over -me, for Fanny was as bright and happy as a bird, while Elsie, who -seemed to have come to her senses, spoke almost freely, displaying no -more disinclination to me, even apparently, than might naturally be -set down to her instinctive modesty, and her knowledge that I was -courting her, and desired to be received as her lover. - -I spoke to her late that evening when Fleming went out to throw down -the night's hay to his horses. For Fanny vanished discreetly at the -same moment, and continued to make just enough noise in the kitchen -to assure us she was there, while it was not sufficient to drown even -the softest conversation. Good girl she was, and is--I love her yet, -though--well, perhaps I had better leave that unsaid at present. - -"Elsie," I said, when we were alone, "do you remember what I said -when we parted on the steamer?" - -She cast her eyes down, but did not answer. - -"I think you do, Elsie," I went on; "I said I should never forget. -Do you think I have? Don't you know why I left my ship, why I came -to this country, why I went mining, and why I have worked so hard and -patiently for long, long months without seeing you? Answer me; do -you know why?" - -She hesitated a moment, lifted up her blue eyes, dropped them at the -sight of the passion in mine, and said gently, "I suppose so, Mr. -Ticehurst." - -"Yes, you know, Elsie; it was that I might be near you, that I might -get rich enough to be able to claim you. How fortunate I have been -in that! But am I fortunate in other things, too, Elsie? Will you -answer me that, Elsie?" - -I approached her, but she held up her hand. - -"Stay, Mr. Ticehurst!--if I must speak. I may have judged you -wrongly, but I am not wholly sure that I have. If I have not, I -should only be preparing misery for myself and for you, if I answered -your questions as you would have me. I want time, and I must have -it, or some other assurance; for how can I wholly trust you when you -will not speak as you might do?" - -Ah! how could I? But this was far better than I had expected--far -better. - -"Elsie," I answered quietly, "I am ready to give you time, all the -time you need to prove me, and my love for you, though there is no -need. My heart is yours, and yours only, ever from the time I saw -you. I have never even wavered in my faith and hope. But I do not -care so long as I may be near you--so long as I may see you -sometimes, and speak to you. For without you I shall be wretched, -and would be glad even if that wretched Malay were to kill me, as he -threatened." - -I thought I was cunning to bring in Matthias, and indeed she lifted -her eyes then. But she showed no signs of fear for me. Perhaps she -looked at me, saying to herself there was no need of such a strong -man being afraid of such a visionary danger. She spoke after a -little silence. - -"Then let it be so, Mr. Ticehurst. If what you say be true, there at -least is nothing for you to fear." - -She looked at me straight then with her glorious blue eyes, and I -would have given worlds to catch her in my arms and press her to my -heart. She went on: - -"And if you never give me cause, why--" She was silent, but held out -her hand. - -I took it, pressed it, and would have raised it to my lips, only she -drew it gently away. But I went to rest happy that night. Give her -cause!--indeed, what cause could I give her? That is what I asked -myself, without knowing what was coming, without feeling my -ignorance, my blindness, and my helplessness in the strange web of -fate and fated crime which was being woven around me--without being -conscious, as an animal is in the prairie, of that storm, so ready to -burst on my head, whose first faint clouds had risen on the horizon -of my life, even before I had seen her, in the very hour that I had -joined the _Vancouver_ under my own brother's command. I went to -sleep, wondering vaguely what had become of him. But we are blind, -all of us, and see nothing until the curtain rises on act after act; -being ignorant still, whether the end shall be sweet or bitter to us, -whether it shall justify our smiles in happiness, or our tears in -some bitter tragedy. - - -For two days I worked in and about my house, putting things in some -order, and on the third I rode over to the Flemings' early in the -morning, as it had been arranged that I was to go out with Mr. -Fleming to look after some cattle of his, which a neighbor had -complained of. I never felt in better spirits than when I rode over -the short two miles which separated us, for the morning was calm and -bright, with a touch of that glorious freshness known only among -mountains or on high plateaus lifted up from the common level of the -under world. I even sang softly to myself, for the black cloud of -doubt, which but a few days ago had obscured all my light, was driven -away by a new dawning of hope, and I was content and without fear. I -shouted cheerfully for Fleming as I rode up, and he came to the door -with his whip over his arm, followed by the two girls. I alighted, -and shook hands all round. - -"Then you are ready, Mr. Fleming?" I asked. - -"When I have put the saddle on the black horse," he replied, as he -went toward the stable, leaving me standing there, for I was little -inclined to offer to assist him while Elsie remained outside the -house. Fanny was quite as mischievous as ever, and whether her -sister had told her anything of what had passed between us two days -before or not, she was evidently conscious that the relations between -Elsie and myself had somehow altered for the better. - -"How do you find yourself these days, Tom?" she asked, with a merry -twinkle in her eye. - -"Very well, Fanny," I answered. "Thanks for your inquiry." - -"Does the climate suit you, then? Or is it the surroundings?" - -"Both, my dear girl, as long as the sun shines on us!" I replied, -laughing, while Elsie turned away with a smile. - -Fanny almost winked at me, and then looked up the road toward Thomson -Forks, which ran close by the ranch and led toward an Indian -settlement on the Lake about ten miles away. - -"There's someone coming," she said, "and he's in a hurry. Isn't he -galloping, Mr. Ticehurst?" - -I looked up the road and saw somebody who certainly was coming down -the long slope from the crest of the hill with more than reasonable -rapidity. I looked, and then turned away carelessly. What was the -horseman to me? I leant against the post of the veranda, which some -former occupant of the house had ornamented by whittling with his -knife, until it was almost too thin to do its duty, and began to -speak to Fanny again, when I saw her blush and start. - -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," she said, "it's Mr. Harmer!" - -Then the horseman was something to me, after all. For what but some -urgent need would bring Jack, who was entirely ignorant of horses and -riding, at that breakneck gallop over the mountain road? My -carelessness went suddenly, and I felt my heart begin to beat with -unaccustomed violence. I turned pale, I know, as I watched him -coming nearer. I was quite unconscious that Elsie had rejoined her -sister, and stood behind me. - -Harmer came closer and closer, and when he saw us waved his hat. In -a moment he was at the gate, while I stood still at the house, and -did not move to go toward him. He alighted, opened the gate, and, -with his bridle over his aim, came up to us. He said good-morning to -the girls hurriedly, and turned to me. - -"You must come to Thomson Forks directly, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said, -gasping, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Something's happened, -I don't know what, and I can't tell; but she wants to see you at -once, and sent me off to fetch you--and so I came, and, oh! how sore -I am," and he wriggled suggestively, and in a way that would have -been comic under other circumstances. - -I caught hold of his arm. - -"What do you mean," I roared, "you young fool? What's happened, and -who wants to see me? Who's _she_?" - -He looked up in astonishment. - -"Why, didn't I say Mrs. Ticehurst, of course?" - -I let him go and fell against the post, making it crack as I did so. -I looked at Elsie, and she was white and stern. But she did not -avoid my eye. - -"Well, what is it--what's happened?" I said at last. - -"I don't know, I tell you, sir," said he almost piteously; "all I -know is that I was sent for to the sawmill by Dave, and when I came I -saw Mrs. Ticehurst; and she's dressed in black, sir, and she looked -dreadfully bad, and she just shook hands with me, and told me to -fetch you at once. And when I asked what for, she just stamped, sir, -and told me to go. And so I came, and that's all!" - -Surely it was enough. Much as I liked her, I would rather have met -Mat or the very devil in the way than had this happen now, when -things were going so well with me. And in black?--good God! had -anything happened to my brother? I turned white, I know, and almost -fell. - -"You had better go at once, Tom," laid Fanny, who held me by the arm. -I turned, I hardly know why, to her sister. Her face was very pale, -but her eyes glittered, and she looked like marble. I know my own -asked hers a question, but I got no response. I turned away toward -my horse, and then she spoke. - -"Mr. Ticehurst, let me speak to you one moment. Fanny, go and talk -to Mr. Harmer." - -And Fanny and I both obeyed her like children. - -She looked at me straight. - -"How could I prove you, Mr. Ticehurst," she said, in a low voice, -"was what I asked the other night. Now the means are in my power. -What are you going to do?" - -"I am going to the Forks," I said, in bewilderment. Her eyes -flashed, and she looked at me scornfully. - -"Then go, but don't ever speak to me again! Go!" - -And she turned away. I caught her arm. - -"Don't be unjust, Elsie!--don't be cruelly unjust!" I cried. What a -fool I was; I knew she loved me, and yet I asked her not to be cruel -and unjust. Can a woman or a man in love be anything else? - -"How can I stay away?" I asked passionately, "when my brother's wife -sends for me? And she is in black--poor Will must be dead!" - -If he was dead, then Helen was free. I saw that and so did Elsie, -and it hardened her more than ever, for she did not answer. - -"Look then, Elsie, I am going, and you say I shall not speak to you -again. You are cruel, very cruel--but I love you! And you shall -speak to me--aye, and one day ask my pardon for doubting me. But -even for you I cannot refuse this request of my own -sister-in-law--who is ill, alone, in sorrow and trouble, in a strange -land. For the present, good-by!" - -I turned away, took my horse from the fence, and rode off rapidly, -without thinking of Harmer, or of Fleming, who was standing in -amazement at his stable, as I saw when I opened the swing-gate. And -if Harmer had come up at a gallop, I went at one, until my horse was -covered with sweat, and the foam, flying from his champed bit, hung -about my knees like sea-foam that did not easily melt. In half an -hour I was at Conlan's door, and was received by Dave. In two -minutes I stood in Helen's presence. - -When I saw her last she had that rich red complexion which showed the -pure color of the blood through a delicate skin; her eyes were -piercing and perhaps a little hard, and her figure was full and -beautiful. She had always rejoiced, too, in bright colors, such as -an Oriental might have chosen, and their richness had suited her -striking appearance. But now she was woefully altered, and I barely -knew her. The color had deserted her cheeks, which were wan and -hollow; her eyes were sunken and ringed with dark circles, and her -bust had fallen in until she looked like the ghost of her former -self, a ghost that was but a mere vague memory of her whom I had -first known in Melbourne. - -Her dress, too, was black, which I knew she hated, and in which she -looked even less like herself. Her voice, when she spoke, no longer -rang out with assurance, but faltered ever and again with the tears -that rose to her eyes and checked her utterance. - -I took her hand, full of pity for her, and dread of what she had to -tell me, for it must be something dreadful which had changed her so -much and brought her so far. - -"What is it, Helen?" I said, in a low voice. - -"What did I come for, you mean, Tom?" she asked, though desiring no -answer. "I came for your sake--and not for Will's. I thought you -might never get a letter, and I wanted to see you once again. Ah! -how much I desired that. Tom, you are in danger!" she spoke that -suddenly--"in danger every moment! For that man who threatened your -life----" - -I nodded, sucking my dry lips, for I knew what she meant, and I was -only afraid of what else she had to tell me. - -"That man has escaped, and has not been caught. O Tom, be -careful--be careful! If you were to die, too----" - -"What do you mean, Helen?" I asked, though I knew full well what she -meant. She looked at me. - -"Can't you think? Yes, you can perhaps partly; but not all--not all -the horror of it. Tom, Will is dead! And not only that, but he was -murdered in San Francisco!" - -I staggered, and sat down staring at her. She went on in a curiously -constrained voice. - -"Yes; the very first night we came ashore, and in our hotel! He was -intoxicated, and came in late, and I wouldn't have him in my room. I -made them put him in the next, and I heard him shouting out of his -window over the veranda soon afterward, and then I fell asleep. And -in the morning I found him--I myself found him dead in bed, struck -right through with a stab in the heart. And he was robbed, too. -Tom, it nearly killed me, it was so horrible--oh, it was horrible! I -didn't know what to do. I was going to send for you, and then I read -in the paper about Mat having escaped two days before, so I came away -at once." - -She ceased and sobbed violently; and I kept silence. God alone knows -what was in my heart, and how it came there; but for a moment--yes, -and for more than that--I suspected her, his wife, of my brother's -murder! I was blind enough, I suppose, and so was she; but then so -many times in life we wonder suddenly at our want of sight when the -truth comes out. I remembered she had once said she hated him, and -could kill him. And besides, she loved me. I shivered and was still -silent. She looked up and caught my eye, which, I knew, was full of -doubt. She rose up suddenly, came to me, fell on her knees, and -cried: - -"No, no, Tom--not that! For God's sake, don't look at me so!" - -And I knew she saw my very heart, and I was ashamed of myself. I -lifted her up and put her on a chair. Heavens! how light she was to -what she had been, for her soul had wasted her body away like a -strong wind fanning a fire. - -"Poor Will!" I said at last, and then I asked if she had remained for -the inquest. No, she had not, she answered. I started at her reply. -If I could think what I had, what might others not do? For her to -disappear like that after the murder of her husband was enough to -make people believe her guilty of the crime, and I wondered that she -had not been prevented from leaving. But on questioning her further, -I learnt that the police suspected a certain man who was a frequenter -of that very hotel; and, after the manner of their kind, had got him -in custody, and were devoting all their attention to proving him -guilty of the crime, whether there were _prima facie_ proofs or not. -Still, it seemed bitter that poor Will should be left to strangers -while his wife came to see me; and though she had done it to save me, -as she thought, yet, after all, the danger was hardly such as to -warrant her acting as she had done. But I was not the person to -blame her. She had done it, poor woman, because she yet loved me, as -I knew even then. But I saw, too, that it was love without hope; and -even if it had not been, she must have learnt that I was near to -Elsie; and that I was "courting old Fleming's gal" was the common -talk whenever my name was mentioned. I tried to convince myself that -she had most likely ceased to think of me, and I preferred to believe -it was only the daily and hourly irritation of poor Will's conduct -which had driven her to compare me with him to his disadvantage. -Well, whatever his faults were, they had been bitterly expiated; as, -indeed, such faults as his usually are. It does not require -statistics to convince anyone who has seen much of the world that -most of the trouble in it comes directly from drink. - -I was in a strange situation as I sat reflecting. I suppose strict -duty required me to go to San Francisco, and yet Will would be buried -before I could get there. Then what was I to do with his widow? She -could not stay there, I could not allow it, nor did I think she -desired it. Still she was not fit to travel in her state of nervous -exhaustion; indeed, it was a marvel that she had been able to come so -far, even under the stimulus of such unwonted excitement. I could -not go away with her even for a part of the return journey, for I -felt Elsie would be harder and harder to manage the more she knew I -saw of Helen. I ended by coming to the conclusion that she must stay -at the Forks for a while, and that I must go back and try to have an -explanation with Elsie. Helen bowed her head in acquiescence when I -told her what she had better do, for the poor woman was utterly -broken down, and ready to lean on any arm that was offered her; and -she, who had been so strong in her own will, was at last content to -be advised like an obedient child. I left her with Mrs. Conlan, to -whom I told as much as I thought desirable, and, kissing her on the -forehead, I took my horse and rode slowly toward home. - -As I left the town I saw Siwash Jim sitting on the sidewalk, and he -looked at me with a face full of diabolical hatred. When I got to -the crest of the hill above the town I turned in the saddle, and saw -him still gazing after me. - -When half-way home I met Harmer, who was riding even slower than I, -and sitting as gingerly in the saddle as if he were very -uncomfortable, as I had no doubt he was. - -"Well, Mr. Ticehurst," said he eagerly, when we came near, "what was -it?" - -I told him, and he looked puzzled. - -"Well," he remarked at last, "it seems to me I must have been -mistaken after all, and that I didn't see Mat when I thought I did. -Let me see, when did he escape?" - -I reckoned it up, and it was only twelve days ago, for Helen had -taken nine days coming from San Francisco, according to what she told -me. - -"Then it is impossible for me to have seen him in New Westminster," -said Harmer. "But it is very strange that I should have imagined I -did see him, and that he did escape after all." - -Then I told him of my brother's death. - -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," he exclaimed, "Matthias must have done it -himself! He must--don't you see he must?" - -The thought had not entered into my head. - -"No," said I; "I don't see it at all. There's a man in custody for -it now, and it is hardly likely Mat would stay in San Francisco, if -he escaped, for two days. Besides, it is even less likely that he -would fall across my brother the very first evening he came ashore." - -Harmer shook his head obstinately. - -"We shall see, sir--we shall see. You know he didn't like Captain -Ticehurst much better than you. Then, you say he was robbed of his -papers. Was your address among them, do you think?" - -I started, for Jack's suspicion seemed possible after all. The -thing, looked more likely than it had done at first sight. And yet -it was only my cowardice that made me think so. I shook my head, but -answered "yes" to his question. - -"Then pray, Mr. Ticehurst, be careful," said Jack earnestly, "and -carry your revolver always. Besides, that fellow Jim is about again. -You hardly hurt him at all; he must be made of iron, and I heard last -night he threatened to have your life." - -"Threatened men live long, Jack," said I. "I am not scared of him. -That's only talk and blow. I don't care much if Mat doesn't get on -my track. He would be dangerous. Did you see Miss Fleming before -you left?" I said, turning the conversation. - -He shook his head. She had gone to her room, and remained there when -I went away. - -"Well, Harmer, I shall be in town the day after to-morrow," I said at -last, "and if anything happens, you can send me word; and go and see -Mrs. Ticehurst meanwhile." - -"I will do that," said he, "but to-morrow morning I have to go up the -lake to the logging camp, and don't know when I shall be back. -That's what Custer said this morning, when I asked him to let me come -over here." - -"Very well, it won't matter, I dare say," I answered. "Take care of -yourself, Jack." - -"Oh, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, turning round in the saddle, and -wincing as he did so, "it is you who must be careful! Pray, do be -very careful!" - -I nodded, shook hands, and rode on. - -When I came to the Flemings', Fanny was at the big gate, and she -asked a question by her eyes before we got close enough to speak. - -"Yes, Fanny," said I, "it was serious." And then I told her what had -occurred. She held out her hand and pressed mine sympathetically. - -"I am so sorry, Tom," was all she said; but she said it so kindly -that her voice almost brought the tears to my eyes. - -"Has Elsie spoken to you since I went, Fanny?" I asked, as we walked -down to the house together, while my horse followed with his head -hanging down. - -"I haven't even seen her, Tom," she replied; "the door was locked, -and when I knocked she told me to go away, which, as it's my room -too, was not very polite." - -In spite of my love for Elsie, I felt somewhat bitter against her -injustice to me, and I was glad to see that I made her suffer a -little on her part. I know I have said very little about my own -feelings, for I don't care somehow to put down all that I felt, any -more than I like to tell any stranger all that is near my heart; but -I did feel strongly and deeply, and to see her, who was with me by -day and night as the object of my fondest hope, so unjust, was enough -to make me bitter. I wished to reproach her, for I was not a -child--a boy, to be fooled with like this. - -"Go and ask her to see me, Fanny, please," I said rather sternly, as -I stood outside the door. "And don't tell her anything of what I -told you, either of Will or Matthias." - -Fanny started. - -"You never said anything of Matthias!" she cried. - -"Didn't I, Fanny? Well, then, I will. He has escaped from prison, -and I suppose he is after me by this. But don't tell Elsie. Just -say I want to see her." - -In a few moments she came back, with tears in her eyes. - -"She won't, Tom! She is in an obstinate fit, I know. And though she -is crying her eyes out--the spiteful cat!--she won't come. I know -her. She just told me to go away. What shall I do?" she asked. - -"Nothing, Fanny," I answered; "you can tell her what you like. Will -you be so cruel to your lover, little Fanny?" - -She looked up saucily. - -"I don't know, Tom; I shall see when I have one"--and she laughed. - -"What about Jack Harmer, then?" - -"Well, you see," and she looked down, "he's very young." She wasn't -more than seventeen herself, and looked younger. "And, besides, I -don't care for anybody but Elsie and father and you, Tom." - -"Very well, Fanny," said I; "give me a kiss from Elsie, and make her -give it you back." - -"I will, Tom," she said quite simply, and, kissing her, I rode off -quietly across the flat to my solitary home. - - - - -PART V - -AT THE BLACK CAÑON. - -Now, as far as I have gone in this story, I have related nothing -which I did not see or hear myself, which is, as it seems to me, the -proper way to do it, provided nothing important is left out. But as -I have learnt since then what happened to other people, and have -pieced the story together in my mind, I see it is necessary to depart -from the rule I have observed hitherto, if I don't want to explain, -after I have come to the end of the whole history, what occurred -before; and that, I can see, would be a very clumsy way of narrating -any affair. Now, what I am going to tell I have on very good -evidence, for Dave at the Forks, and Conlan's stableman told me part, -and afterward, as will be seen, I actually learnt something from -Siwash Jim himself, who here plays rather a curious and important -part. - -It appears that the day after I was at the Forks (which day I spent, -by the way, with Mr. Fleming, riding round the country, returning -afterward by the trail which led from the Black Cañon down to my -house) Siwash Jim, who had to all appearance recovered from the -injuries, which, however, were only bruises, that I had inflicted on -him, began to drink early in the morning. He had, so Dave says, -quite an unnatural power of keeping sober--and Dave himself can drink -more than any two men I am acquainted with, unless it is Mac, my old -partner, so he ought to know. And though Jim drank hard, he did not -become drunk, but only abused me. He called me all the names from -coyote upward and downward which a British Columbian of any standing -has at his tongue's end, and when Jim had exhausted the resources of -the fertile American language, he started in Siwash or Indian, in -which there are many choice terms of abuse. But in spite of his -openness, Dave says it was quite evident he was dangerous, and that I -might really have been in peril at any time of the day if I had come -to town, for Jim was deemed a bad character among his companions, and -had, so it was said, killed one man at least, though he had never -been tried for it. But though he sat all day in the bar, using my -name openly, he never made a move till eight in the evening, when he -went out for awhile. - -When he returned he was accompanied by a thin dark man, wearing a -slouch hat over his eyes, whom Dave took to be a half-breed of some -kind, and they had drinks together, for which the stranger paid, -speaking in good English, but not with a Western accent. Then the -two went to the other side of the room. What their conversation was, -no one knows exactly, nor did I ever learn; but Dave, who was keeping -his eye on Jim, says that it seemed as if the stranger was trying to -persuade Jim to be quiet and stay where he was, and from what -occurred afterward there is little doubt his supposition was correct. -Moreover, my name undoubtedly occurred in this conversation, for Dave -heard it, and the name of my ranch as well. Soon after that some men -came in, and, in consequence of his being busy, Dave did not see Jim -go out. But Conlan's stableman says Jim came to the stable with the -stranger and got his horse. When asked where he was going, he said -for a ride, and would answer no more questions. And all the time the -strange man tried to persuade him not to go, and to come and have -another drink. If Jim had been flush of money there might have been -a motive for this, but as he was not, there seemed then to be none -beyond the sudden and absurd fondness that men sometimes conceive for -each other when drunk. But if this were the case, it was only on the -stranger's side, for when the horse was brought round to the door Jim -mounted it, and when the other man still importuned him not to go, -Siwash Jim struck at him with his left hand and knocked off his hat -as he stood in the light coming from the bar. And just then -attention was drawn from Jim by a sudden shriek from the other side -of the road where Conlan's private house stood. When Dave came out -and looked for him again, both he and the other man had disappeared -down the road, which branched about half a mile out of town into two -forks, one leading eastward and the other southward to the Flemings'. - -Now, as I said before, most of that day I had been out riding with -Mr. Fleming, who left me early, in order to go to the next ranch down -the road, and I had told him the whole story about Mat's escape, and -my brother's death; which he agreed with me were hardly likely to be -connected. Yet he acknowledged if they were I was in much more -danger than one would have thought before, because such a deed would -show the Malay was a desperado of the most fearless and dangerous -description; and besides, if he had robbed Will, it was more than -likely he knew where I was from my own letters, or from my address -written in a pocketbook my brother always carried, and which was -missing. Of course, this conversation made me full, as it were, of -Mat; and that, combined with the unlucky turn affairs had taken with -regard to Elsie, made me more nervous than I was inclined to -acknowledge to her father. So before I went to bed, which I did at -ten o'clock--for I was very tired, being still unaccustomed to much -riding--I locked my door carefully, and put the table against it, -neither of which things I had ever done before, and which I was -almost inclined to undo at once, for it seemed cowardly to me. Yet I -thought of Elsie, and, still hoping to win her, I was careful of my -life. I went to sleep, in spite of my nervous preoccupation, almost -as soon as I lay down, and I suppose I must have been asleep two -hours before I woke out of a horrible dream. I thought that I was on -board ship, in my own berth, lying in the bunk, and that Mat was on -my chest strangling me with his long lithe fingers. And all the time -I heard, as I thought, the sails flap, as though the vessel had come -up in the wind. As I struggled--and I did struggle desperately--the -blood seemed to go up into my head and eyes, until I saw the fiend's -face in a red light, and then I woke. The house was on fire, and I -was being suffocated! As the flames worked in from the outside, and -made the scorching timbers crack again and again, I sprang out of -bed. I had lain down with my trousers on, and, seeing at once there -must be foul play for the house to catch fire on the outside, and at -the back too, where I never went, I drew on my boots, snatched my -revolver up, and leapt at the front window, through which I went with -a crash, uttering a loud cry as I did so, for a piece of the glass -cut my left arm deeply. As I came to the ground, I saw a horseman in -front of me, and by the light of the fire, which had already mounted -to the roof of the house, I recognized Siwash Jim. Then, whether it -was that the horse he rode was frightened at the crash I made or not, -it suddenly bounded into the air, turned sharp round, and bolted into -the brush, just where the trail came down from the Black Cañon. As -Jim disappeared, I fired, but with no effect; and that my shot was -neither returned nor anticipated was, I saw, due to the fact that the -villain had dropped his own six-shooter, probably at the first bound -of his horse, just where he had been standing. - -I was in a blind fury of rage, for such a cowardly and treacherous -attack on an unoffending man's life seemed hardly credible to me. -And there my home was burning, and it was no fault of his that I was -not burning with it, or shot dead outside my own door. But he should -not escape, if I chased him for a month. I was glad he had been -forced to take the trail, for there was no possible outlet to it for -miles, so thick was the brush in that mountainous region. -Fortunately, I now had two horses; and the one in my stable, which I -had only bought from Fleming a week before, was not the one I had -been riding all that day. I threw the saddle on him, clinched it up -tightly, and led him out. I carried both the weapons, my own and -Jim's, and I rode up the narrow and winding path in a blind and -desperate fury, which seldom comes to a man, but it when it does it -makes him careless of his own life and utterly reckless; and as I -rode, in a fashion I had never done before, even though I trusted a -mountain-bred and forest-trained horse, I swore that I myself should -die that night, or that Siwash Jim should feel the just weight of my -wrath. But before I can tell the terrible story of that terrible -night I must return once more, and for the last time, to Thomson -Forks. - -I said, some pages back, that attention had been drawn from Siwash -Jim and his strange companion by a sudden shriek from Ned Conlan's -house. That shriek had been uttered by Helen, who was still staying -with Mrs. Conlan, as she and her hostess were standing outside in the -dying twilight, and, after screaming, she had fainted, remaining -insensible for nearly half an hour. When Dr. Smith, as he called -himself--though an Englishman has natural doubts as to how the -practitioners in the West earn their diplomas--had helped her -recovery, she spoke at once in a state of nervous excitement painful -to witness. - -"Oh, I saw him--I saw him!" she said, in an hysterical voice. - -"Who, my dear?" asked Mrs. Conlan, in what people call a comforting -way. - -"Where is Mr Conlan?" was Helen's answer. He came into the room in -which she was lying. Helen turned to him at once. - -"Mr. Conlan, I want you to take me out to my brother-in-law's -house--to Mr. Ticehurst's farm!" - -They all exclaimed against her foolishness and demanded why; while -Conlan scratched his head in a puzzled manner. - -"I tell you I must see him to-night, and at once! For I saw the man -who swore to kill him." - -The bystanders shook their heads sagely, thinking she was mad, but -Conlan asked if she meant Siwash Jim. - -"No," she said, "it was not Jim." But she must go, and she would. -With an extraordinary exhibition of strength, she rose and ordered -horses in an imperative tone, saying she was quite well enough to do -as she liked. - -Mrs. Conlan appealed to the doctor, and he, perhaps being glad to -advise against the opinion of those present, as such a course might -indicate his superior knowledge, said he thought it best to let her -have her own way. I think, too, that Helen, who seemed to have -regained her strength, had regained with it her old power of making -people do as she wished. At any rate, Mr. Conlan meekly acquiesced, -and, saying he would drive her himself, went out to order horses at -once. When the buggy was brought to the door, Helen got up without -assistance, and begged him to be quick. His wife, who would never -have dared to even suggest his hurrying, stood aghast at seeing her -usually masterful husband do as he was bid. They drove off, leaving -Mrs. Conlan to prophesy certain death as the result of this -inexplicable expedition, while the others speculated, more or less -wildly, as to what it all meant. - -Conlan told me that Helen never spoke all the way except to ask how -much longer they were going to be, or to complain of the slowness of -the pace. - -"Most women," said Ned, "would have been scared at the way I drove, -for it was pitch dark; and if the horses hadn't known the road as -well, or better, than I did, we should have come to grief in the -first mile. But she never turned a hair. She was a wonderful woman, -sir!" - -It was already past eleven o'clock when they got to the top of the -hill just above Fleming's, and from there the light of my house -burning could be distinctly seen, although the place itself was -hidden by a rise, and Helen pointed to it, nervously demanding what -it was. - -"Ticehurst must have been burning brush," said Conlan, offering the -very likeliest explanation. But Helen said, "No, no," impatiently, -and told him to hurry. Just then Conlan remembered that he did not -know the road across from Fleming's to my place, and said so. - -"You had better stop at Fleming's, and send for him. They aint in -bed yet, ma'am. I see their light." - -"I don't want to see the Flemings; I want Mr. Ticehurst," said Helen -obstinately. - -"Well, we must stop at Fleming's," said Conlan, "if it's only to ask -the way. I don't know the road, and I'm not going to kill you and -myself by driving into the creek such a night as this." - -And Helen was fain to acquiesce, for she could not do otherwise. - -When they reached the house Fanny was standing outside, and as the -light from the open door fell on Helen's pallid face, she screamed. - -"Good Heavens, Mrs. Ticehurst! Is it you?" she cried--"and you, Mr. -Conlan? Oh, I am so glad!--father's away, and Mr. Ticehurst's house -must be on fire." - -"Ah!" said Helen, "I thought so. Oh, oh! he's dead, I know he's -dead! I must go to him! Fanny, dear, can you show us the way--can -you? You must! Perhaps we can save him yet!" - -She frightened Fanny terribly, for her face was so pale and her eyes -glittered so, and for a moment the girl could hardly speak. - -"I don't know it by night, Mrs. Ticehurst; but Elsie does," she said -at last. - -"Where is she, then?" said Helen eagerly. - -"She's gone over there now," cried Fanny, "for father had not come -home; and when we saw the fire, we were afraid something had -happened, so Elsie took the black horse and went over. She's there -now." - -"Then what shall we do?" cried Helen, in an agony, "he will be -killed!" - -"What is it, Mrs. Ticehurst?" asked Fanny, trembling all over. "Oh, -what is it!" - -But she took no notice and sat like a statue, only she breathed hard -and heavily, and her hands twitched; as she looked toward my burning -home. - -"Silence!" she cried suddenly, though no one spoke. "There is -somebody coming." - -And the three of them looked into the darkness, in which there was a -white figure moving rapidly. - -"It is Elsie!" screamed Fanny joyfully; and Helen sprang from the -buggy, and stood in the light, as Elsie exclaimed in wonder at -Fanny's excited voice. - -The two women stood face to face, looking in each other's eyes, and -then Elsie, who for one moment had shown nothing but surprise, went -white with scorn and anger. How glad I should have been to have seen -her so, or to have learnt, even at that moment when I stood in the -greatest peril I have ever known, that she had ridden over to save or -help me, even though her acts but added a greater danger to those in -which I already stood. For her deed and her look were the deed and -look of a woman who loves and is jealous. But it might have seemed -to me, had I been there, that Helen's coming had overbalanced the -scale once more against me, and perhaps for the last time. I am glad -I did not know that fear until it was only imagination, and the -imaginary canceling of a series of events, that could place me again -in such a situation. - -The two women looked at each other, and then Elsie turned away. - -"Stop, stop!" cried Helen; "what has happened? Where is Mr. -Ticehurst?" - -"What is that to you?" said Elsie cruelly, and with her eyes flaming. - -"Tell us, Elsie," said Fanny imploringly. - -"I will _not_!" said her sister--"not to this woman! Go back, Mrs. -Ticehurst! What are you doing here?" - -Helen caught her by the arm, and looked in her face. - -"Girl, I know your thoughts!" she said; "but you are wrong--I tell -you, you are wrong! You love him----" - -"I do not!" said Elsie angrily. "I love no other woman's lover!" - -Surely, though there were two dazed onlookers, these women were in a -state to speak their natural minds. - -"Girl, girl!" said Helen, once more, "I tell you again, you are -wrong! You are endangering _your_ lover's life. Is he not your -lover, or did you go over there to find out nothing? I tell you, I -came to save him, and to save him for you--no, not for you, you are -not worth it, though he thinks you perfection! You are a wicked -girl, and a fool! Come, come! why don't you speak? What has become -of him? Is he over there now?" - -Elsie was silent, but yielding. Fanny spoke again. - -"Elsie--Elsie, speak--answer her! What happened over there, and -where is the horse?" - -Elsie turned to her, as though disdaining to answer Helen. - -"Someone set his house on fire, I think; perhaps it was Jim, and Mr. -Ticehurst has gone after him!" - -"Ah!" said Helen, as if relieved, "if that is all! How did you know -he is gone--did you see him, speak to him?" - -"No," said Elsie; "I did not!" - -"Then how do you know?" cried Fanny and Helen, together. - -"There was a man there----" - -Helen cried out as if she were struck, and Elsie paused. - -"Go on!" the other cried--"go on!" - -"And when I came up he was sitting by the house. I asked him if Mr. -Ticehurst was there----" - -"Oh, you fool!" groaned Helen, but only Fanny heard it. - -"And he got up," continued Elsie, "and said there was no one there, -but just as he was coming from his camp to see what the fire was, he -heard a shot, and when he got to the house he saw somebody just -disappear up the trail toward the cañon." - -"Did you know him?" said Helen, as Elsie paused to take breath, for -when she began to speak she spoke rapidly, and, conceal it as she -would, it was evident she was in a fearful state of excitement. - -"No," said Elsie; "but I think I have seen him before." - -"Where is he, then?" cried Helen, holding her hand to her heart. "Is -he there still?" - -"No," cried Fanny, almost joyfully, "you gave him your horse to go -and find Tom, and help him, didn't you, Elsie?" - -And Helen screamed out in a terrible voice, "No, no! you did not, you -did not--say you did not, girl!" - -Elsie, who had turned whiter and whiter, turned to her suddenly. - -"Yes, I did," she cried; "I did give him the horse." - -Helen lifted her hands up over her head with an awful gesture of -despair, and fell on her knees, catching hold of both the girls' -dresses. But she held up and spoke. - -"Oh, you wretched, unhappy girl!" she cried. "What have you -done--what _have_ you done? To whom did you give the horse? I know, -I know! I saw him this very night--the man who swore to be revenged -on him if it were after a century. The man who nearly killed him -once, and who has escaped from prison. You have given him the means -of killing your lover--you have given Tom Ticehurst up to Matthias, -to a murderer--a murderer!" - -And she fell back, and this time did not recover herself, but lay -insensible, still holding the girls' dresses with as desperate a -clutch as though she were keeping back from following me the man who -was upon my track that terrible midnight. But Elsie stooped, freed -her dress, and saying to Fanny, "See to her--see to her!" ran down to -the stable again, just as her father rode through the higher gate. - -And as that girl, who had known and ridden from her childhood, was -saddling the first one she came to in the stable, I was riding hard -and desperately in the dark not a quarter of a mile behind Siwash Jim. - - -The trail upon which we both were ran from my house, straight up into -the mountains for nearly ten miles, and then followed the verge of -the Black Cañon for more than a mile farther. When I came up to that -place I stayed for one moment, and heard the dull and sullen roar of -the broken waters three hundred feet beneath me, and then I rode on -again as though I was as irresistibly impelled as they were, and was -just as bound to cut my way through what Fate had placed before as -they had been to carve that narrow and tremendous chasm in the living -rock. And at last I came to a fork in the trail. If I had not been -there before with Mr. Fleming, I should most likely have never seen -Jim that night, perhaps never again. But we had stayed at that very -spot. The left-hand fork was the main track, and led right over the -mountains into the Nicola Valley; while the left and disused one, -which was partially obliterated by thick-growing weeds, led back -through the impassable scrub and rough rocks to the middle of the -Black Cañon. I had passed that end of it without thinking, for -indeed it was scarcely likely he would have turned off there. The -chances seemed a thousand to one that Jim would take the left-hand -path, but just because it did seem so certain, I alighted from my -horse and struck a light. The latest horse track led to the right -hand! He had relied on my taking the widest path, and continuing in -it until it was too late to catch a man who had so skillfully doubled -on me. I had no doubt that his curses at losing his revolver were -changed into chuckles, as he thought of me riding headlong in the -night, until my horse was exhausted, while he was returning the way I -had come. I stopped to think, and then, getting on my horse, I rode -back slowly to where the trails joined at the edge of the Cañon. I -would wait for him there. And I waited more than half an hour. - -It is strange how such little circumstances alter everything, for not -only would Jim's following the Nicola trail have resulted in -something very different, but, waiting half an hour, during which I -cooled somewhat and lost the first blind rage of passion in which I -had set out, set me reflecting as to what I should do. If I had come -up with him at full gallop I should have shot him there and then. He -would have expected it, and it would have been just vengeance; but -now I was quietly waiting for him, and to shoot him when he appeared -seemed to me hardly less cowardly conduct than his own. Then, if I -gave him warning, he would probably escape me, and I was not so -generous as to let him have the chance. Yet, in after years, seeing -all that followed from what I did, I think I was more generous than -just. I ought to have regarded myself as the avenging arm of the -law, and have struck as coolly as an executioner. But I determined -to give him a chance for his life, though giving him that was risking -my own, which I held dear, if only for Elsie's sake; and so I backed -my horse into the brush, where I commanded both trails, and, cocking -both revolvers, I sat waiting. In half an hour I heard the tramp of -a horse, though at first I could not tell from which way the sound -came. But at last I saw that I had been right in my conjecture, and -that my enemy was given into my hands. My heart beat fast, but my -hands were steady, for I had full command over myself. I waited -until he was nearly alongside of me, and then I spoke. - -"Throw up your hands, Siwash Jim!" I said, in a voice that rang out -over the roar of the waters below us, "or you are a dead man!" - -And he threw them up, and as he sat there I could see his horse was -wearied out. If it had not been, perhaps my voice would have -startled it, and compelled me to fire. - -"What are you going to do?" said he, sullenly peering in my -direction, for he could barely see me against my background of trees -and brush, whereas I had him against the sky. - -"I will tell you, you miserable scoundrel!" I answered. "But first, -get off your horse, and do it slowly, or I will put two bullets -through you! Mind me!" - -He dismounted slowly. - -"Tie your horse to that sapling, if you will be kind enough," I said -further; "and don't be in a hurry about it, and don't attempt to get -behind it, or you know what will happen." - -When he had done as I ordered, I spoke again. - -"Have you got any matches?" - -"Yes," he replied. - -"Of course you have, you villain! The same you set my house on fire -with. Well, now rake up some brush, and make a little fire here." - -"What for?" said he quickly, for I believe he thought for a moment I -meant to roast him alive. I undeceived him if that was his idea. - -"So that we can see each other," I replied, "for I'm going to give -you a chance for your life, though you don't deserve it. Where's -your six-shooter?" - -"I dropped it," he grunted. - -"And I picked it up," said I. "So make haste if you don't want to be -killed with your own weapon!" - -What his thoughts were I can't say, but without more words he set -about making a fire, soon having a vigorous blaze, by which I saw -plainly enough the looks of fear, distrust, and hatred he cast at me. -But he piled on the branches, though I checked him once or twice when -I thought he was going too far to gather them. When there was -sufficient light to illuminate the whole space about us and the -opposing bank of the cañon, I told him that was enough. - -"That will do," I said; "go and stand at the edge of the cañon!" - -He hesitated. - -"You're not going to shoot me like a dog, and put me down there, are -you?" said he, trembling. - -"Like a dog?" said I passionately; "did you not try to smother me -like a bear in his den, to burn me alive in my own house? Do as I -tell you, or I'll shoot you now and roll your body in the river! Go!" - -And he went as I asked him. - -"Have you got any cartridges?" I demanded. - -He pointed to his belt, and growled that he had plenty. - -"Then stay there, and I will tell you what I will do with you. I am -going to empty your revolver, and you can have it when it is empty. -I will get off my horse and then you can load it again, and when I -see you have filled it, you can do your best for yourself. Do you -hear me?" - -He nodded his head, and kept his eyes fixed on me anxiously, as -though not daring to hope I was going to be so foolish as my word. -But I was, even to the extent of firing his revolver into the air, -though I had no suspicion of what I was really doing, nor what such -an act would bring about. - -I alighted from my horse, and let him go, for there was no danger of -his running away. I even struck him lightly, and sent him up the -trail out of the way of accident; and then, keeping my own revolver -pointed at Jim, who stood like a statue, I raised his in my left -hand. I fired, and the reports rang out over the hills. I threw -Siwash Jim his weapon, saying: - -"Load the chambers slowly, and count as you do so." - -What a fool I was, to be sure, not to have shot him dead and let him -lie! Though I should not have been free from the dangers that -encompassed me, yet they would have been fewer, far fewer, and more -easily contended with. But I acted as Fate would have, and even as I -counted I heard Jim count too, in a strained, hoarse voice--one, two, -three, four, five, six--and he was an armed man again, armed in the -light, almost half-way between us, that glittered in his eyes and -fell on my face. And it was his life or mine; his life that was -worth nothing, and mine that was precious with the possibilities of -love that I yet knew not, of love that was hurrying toward me even -then, side by side with hate and death. - -When Jim's weapon was loaded, he turned toward me with the barrel -pointed to the ground. His eyes were fixed on mine, fixed with a -look of fear and hatred, but hatred now predominated. I lowered my -own revolver until we both stood on equal terms. - -"Look," said I sternly; "you see that burning branch above the fire. -It is already half burnt through; when it falls, look out for -yourself." - -And he stood still, perfectly still, while behind and under him the -flood in the cañon fretted and roared menacingly, angrily, hungrily, -and the sappy branch cracked and cracked again. It was bending, -bending slowly, but not yet falling, when Jim threw his weapon up and -fired, treacherous to the last. But his aim was not sure, no surer -than mine when I returned his shot. As we both fired again, I felt a -sting in my left shoulder, and the branch fell, slowly, slowly--ah! -as slowly as Jim did, for he sank on his knees, rolled over sideways, -and slipped backward on the verge of the cañon, its sloping, -treacherous verge. And as he slipped, he caught a long root -disclosed by the falling earth, and with the last strength of life -hung on to it, a yard below me; as I ran to the edge, and stopped -there, horror-struck. My desire for vengeance was satisfied, more -than satisfied, for if I could have restored him to solid ground and -life I would have done it, and bidden him go his way, so that I saw -him no more. For his face was ghastly and horrible to see; his lips -disclosed his teeth as he breathed through them convulsively, and his -nostrils were widely distended. I knelt down and vainly reached out -my hands. But he was a yard below me, and to go half that distance -meant death for me as well. I knelt there and saw him fail -gradually; his eyes closed and opened again and again; he caught his -lower lip between his teeth and bit it through and through, and then -his head fell back, his hands relaxed, and he was gone. And I heard -the sullen plunge of his body as it fell three hundred feet into the -waters below. I remained still and motionless for a moment. What a -thing man was that he should do such deeds! I rose, and a feeling of -sorrow and remorse for this terrible death of a fellow-creature made -me stagger. I put my hand to my brow, and then peered over the edge -of the cañon. What was I looking for? Was I looking into the river -of Fate? I took my revolver and threw it into the cañon, that it -should slay no other man. As it fell it struck a projecting rock, -and, exploding, the echoes in the narrow space roared and thundered -up the gorge toward the east, where, just beyond the mountains, the -first faint signs of rosy dawn were written upon the heavens. Was -that an omen of peace and love to me, of a fairer, brighter day? I -lifted my heart above and prayed it might be so. But it was yet -night, still dark, and the darkest hour is before the dawn, for as I -turned my back to the cañon and stepped across to the fire which had -lighted poor, foolish, ignorant Jim to his death, I looked up, and -saw before me the thin face I feared more than all others, and the -wicked eyes of my escaped enemy, Matthias of the _Vancouver_. - -I have never believed myself a coward, for I have faced death too -often, and but a few minutes ago I had risked my life in a manner -which few men would have imitated; but I confess that in the horrible -surprise of that moment, in the strange unexpectedness of this sudden -and most unlooked-for appearance, I was stricken dumb and motionless, -and stood glaring at him with opened eyes, while my heart's blood ran -cold, For I was unarmed, by my own act of revulsion and remorse; and -wounded too, for I could feel the blood trickle slowly from my -shoulder that had been deeply scored by the second bullet from Jim's -revolver. And I was in the same position that I had put him in, in a -clear space with thick brush on both sides, through which there was -no escape, and in which there was no shelter but a single tree to the -left of the blazing fire, which was already gradually crawling in the -dry brush. Surely I was delivered into my enemy's hands, for he was -armed and carried a revolver, on whose bright barrel the fire glinted -harshly. How long we stood facing each other I cannot say, but it -seemed hours. If he had but fired then, he might have killed me at -once, for I was unable to move; but he did not desire that, I could -see he did not, as his hot eyes devoured me and gleamed with a light -of savage joy and triumph. He spoke at last, and in a curiously -quiet voice, that was checked every now and again with a sort of sob -which made me shiver. - -"Ah! Mr. Ticehurst," he said slowly, "you know me? You look as if -you did. I am glad you feel like that. You are afraid!" - -I looked at him and answered: - -"It is a lie!" - -And from that time forward it was a lie, for I feared no more. - -"No," he said, "I think not; you are pale, and just now you shook. I -don't shake, even after what I have been through. Look at me!" - -He pointed his weapon at me, and his hand was as steady as a rock. -He lowered it again and stroked the barrel softly with his lean left -hand. - -"You remember what I said to you," he went on, "don't you, Thomas -Ticehurst? I do, and I have kept my word. Ah! I have thought of -this many times, many times. They tortured me and treated me like a -dog in the jail you sent me to; they beat me, and kicked me, and -starved me, but I never complained, lest my time there should be -longer. And when I lay down at night I thought of the time when I -should kill you. I knew it would come, and it has. But just now, -when I saw you by the side of your own grave, looking down, I didn't -know whether it was you or the other man, and I thought perhaps he -had killed you. If it had been he, I would have killed him." - -He paused, and I still stood there with a flood of thoughts rushing -through me. What should I do? If he had taken his eyes off mine for -but one single moment I would have sprung on him; but he did not, and -while he talked, I heard the horses champing their bits in the brush. -And cruelest of all, my own horse moved, and put his head through the -branches and looked at me. Oh, if I were only on his back! But I -did not speak. - -"How shall I kill you?" said Matthias at last; "I would like to cut -you to pieces!" - -He paused again, and then another horse that I had not yet seen moved -on the other side of the trail where he had come up. It had heard -the others, and I knew it must be the animal he had ridden. It came -out of the brush into the light of the fire, and I knew it was -Elsie's. My heart gave a tremendous leap, and then stood still. How -had he become possessed of it? I spoke, and in a voice I could not -recognize as my own, so hoarse and terrible it was. - -"How did you get that white horse, you villain?" I asked. - -He looked at me fiercely without at first seeing how he could hurt -me, and then a look of beast-like, cruel cunning came into his eyes. - -"Ah!" said he, "I knew her! It was your girl's horse! How did I get -it? Perhaps you would like to know? You will never see her -again--never! Where is she now--where?" - -He knew as little as I did, but the way he spoke, and the horrible -things he put into his voice, made me boil with fury. - -"You are a lying dog!" I cried, though he had said nothing that I -should be so wrathful. He grinned diabolically, seeing how he had -hurt me, and then laughed loud in an insulting, triumphant manner. -It was too much, and I made one tremendous bound across the fire, and -landed within three feet of him. He fired at the same moment, and -whether he had wounded me or not I did not know; but the revolver -went spinning two yards off, and we grappled in a death-hug. - -I have said that Siwash Jim was a hard man to beat, but whether it -was that I was weak with my wound or not, I found Matthias, who was -mad with hate and fury, the most terrible antagonist I had ever -tackled. He was as slippery as an eel, as lithe as a snake, and -withal his grip was like that of a steel trap. Yet if I could but -prevent him drawing his knife, which was at his belt, I did not care. -I was his match if not in agility, at least in strength, and I would -never let him go. We were for one moment still, after we grappled, -and I trust I shall never see anything that looks more like a devil -than his eyes, in which the light of the fire shone, while he gnashed -his teeth and ground them until the foam and saliva oozed out of his -mouth like a mad dog's venom. His forehead was seamed and wrinkled, -his cheeks were sucked in and then blown out convulsively, and his -whole aspect was more hideous than that of a beast of prey. And then -the struggle began. - -At first it was a trial of strength, for although I was so much the -bigger, he knew his own power and the force of his iron nerves, and -he hoped to overcome me thus. We reeled to and fro, and twice went -through the fire, where I once held him for an instant with a -malicious joy that was short-lived, for the pain added to his -strength, and he forced me backward, until I struck the trunk of the -tree a heavy blow. Then we swayed hither and thither, for I had him -by the right wrist and the left shoulder, not daring to alter my grip -on his right hand, lest he should get his knife. He held me in the -same way, and at last we came to the very verge of the cañon, and -spurned the tracks that Jim had made in his agony. For a moment I -thought he would throw us both in, but he had not lost hope. If he -had, that moment would have been my last. In another second we had -staggered to the fire, and he tried all his strength to free his -right hand. At last, by a sudden wrench he did it, and dropped his -fingers like lightning on his knife, just as I bent his left wrist -over, and struck him in the face with his own clenched hand. We both -went down; his knife ripped my shoulder by the very place that Jim's -bullet had struck, and we rolled over and over madly and blindly, -burning ourselves on the scattered embers, tearing ourselves on the -jagged roots and small branches, which we smashed, as I strove to -dash him on the ground, and he struggled to free his arm, which I had -gripped above the elbow, to end the battle at one blow. But though -he once drove the point more than an inch into the biceps, and three -times cut me deeply, he did not injure any nerve so as to paralyse -the limb. And yet I felt that I was becoming insensible, so -tremendous was the strain and the excitement, and I felt that I must -make a last effort, or die. Somehow we rose to our knees, still -grappling, and if I looked a tithe as horrible as he did, covered -with blood, saliva, and sweat, I must have been horrible to see. We -glared in each other's eyes for one moment, and then, loosing my hold -on his left arm, I caught his right wrist with both hands. With his -freed hand he struck me with all his remaining strength full in the -face while I twisted his right wrist with a force that should have -broken it, but which only compelled him to relinquish the bloody -piece of steel. And then we rolled over again, and lay locked in -each other's arms. There was a moment's truce, for human nature -could not stand the strain. But I think he believed I was beaten, -and at his mercy, for he was on top of me, lying half across my -breast, with his face not six inches from mine. He spoke in a -horrible voice, that shook with hate and pain and triumph. - -"I've got you now--and I'll kill you, as I did your brother!" - -Great God! then it was he who had done it, after all. Better had it -been for him to have held his peace, for that word roused me again as -nothing else could have done, and I caught his throat with both -hands, though he struck me viciously. I held him as he lay on top of -me, and saw him die. Then I knew no more for a little while, and as -I lay there insensible, I still bled. - -What was it that called me to myself? Whether it was that my soul -had gone out to meet someone, and returned in triumph, for I awoke -with a momentary feeling of gladness; or whether it was an -unconscious effort of the brain, in the presence of a new and -terrible danger, I cannot say. All I know is that, when that spasm -of joy passed, I felt weak and unable to move under the weight of -Matthias, whose protruding eyes and tongue mocked at me hideously in -death, as though his revenge was even now being accomplished; and I -saw the fiery brush creeping across the space that lay between me and -the fire Jim had kindled at my bidding. Was I to die by fire at the -last, when that horrible night was passing and the dawn was already -breaking on the eastern horizon? For I could not stir, my limbs were -like lead, my heart beat feebly, and my feet were cold. I lay -glaring at the fire, and, as I did so, I saw that the revolver I had -struck out of Matthias's hand was lying as far from the fire as the -fire was from me. How is it that there is such a clear intellect at -times in the very presence of death? I saw then that the shots I had -fired from that weapon had brought my enemy up just in time, for -otherwise he might have been wearied out or lost; and now I thought -if I could only get to it, to fire it, I might thus bring help: for -what enemies had I left now save the crawling fire? I might even -bring Elsie. But then, how did the dead villain who lay across me, -choking me still, get her horse, and what had happened to her in his -hands! I tried to scream, and I sighed as softly as the vague wind -which was impelling the slow fires toward me. How near they -came!--how near--and nearer yet, like serpents rearing their heads, -spitting viciously as they came? And then I thought how slow they -were; why did they not come and end it at once, and let me die? And -I looked at the fires again. They were within two feet of me, I -could feel the heat, and within eighteen inches of the revolver. I -was glad, and watched it feverishly. But then the weapon's muzzle -was pointed almost at me. Suppose it exploded, and shot me dead as -it called for help! How strange it was! I put up my hands feebly -and tried to move the dead body, so as to screen myself. I might as -well have tried to uproot a tree, for I could barely move my hands. -I looked at the fire again as it crawled on and on, now wavering, now -staying one moment to lift up its thousand little crests and vicious -eyes, and then stooping to lick up the grass and the dried brush on -which I lay. But as I glared at it intently, at last it reached the -weapon, and coiled round it triumphantly as though that had been its -goal, licking it round and round. Would the flames heat the -cartridges enough, and if they did, where would the bullets go? I -asked that deliriously, for I was in a fever, and instead of being -cold at heart, the blood ran through me like fire. I thought I began -to feel the fire that was so close to me. I heard the explosion of -the heated weapon. I was yet alive. "Come, Elsie! come, if you are -not dead--come and save me--come!" I thought I cried out loudly, but -not even her ear, that heard a sharper sound afar, could have caught -that. Once more and once again the cartridges fired, and I heard a -crash, saw a horse burst like a flame through the black brush, and -there was a white thing before my eyes. I looked up and saw Elsie, -my own true love after all, and then I fainted dead away, and did not -recover until long, long after. - -I ask myself sometimes even now, when those hours that were burnt -into my soul return to my sight like an old brand coming out on the -healed flesh when it is struck sudden and sharply, whether, after -all, my enemy had been balked of his revenge. To die one death and -go into oblivion is the lot of all who face the rising sun, and, -after a while, veil their eyes when its last fires sink in the -western sea. But I suffered ten thousand deaths by violence, by -cruel ambush and torture, by crawling flames and flashing knives in -the interval between my rescue and my recovery from the fever that my -wounds and the horror of it all brought upon me. They told me--Elsie -herself told me--that I lay raving only ten days; but it seemed -incredible to me, as I shook my head in a vague disbelief that made -them fear for my reason. If I had been in the care of strangers who -were unfamiliar to me, I might have thought myself a worn-out relic -of some dead and buried era, whose monuments had crumbled slowly to -ashes in the very fires through which my soul had passed, shrieking -for the forgetful dead I had loved. But though I saw her only -vaguely like a spirit in clouds, or knew her, without sight as I lay -half unconscious, as a beneficent presence only, I grew gradually to -feel that Elsie, who still lived after the centuries of my delirium, -loved me with the passion I had felt for her. I say _had_ felt, for -I was like a child, and my desire for her was scarcely more than a -pathetic longing for tenderness of thought and touch, until the great -strength which had been my pride returned in a flood and brought -passion with it once more. - -How strangely that came to pass which I had foretold in my last talk -with Elsie! I had said, angrily--for I was angered--that she should -one day speak to me, though she swore she would not, and that she -should implore my pardon. And she did it, she who had been so strong -and self-contained, in the meekest and dearest way the thoughts of a -maiden could devise. And then she asked me if I would marry her? -Would I marry her? I stared at her in astonishment, not at her -asking, for it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to -do, but at the idiocy of the Question. "I do believe you love me, -Elsie," I said at last, "for I have heard that love makes the most -sensible people quite stupid. If you were in your right senses, -dear, you would not have asked it----" - -"I should think not, indeed!" she broke in. But she smiled tenderly. - -"Because you know very well that I settled that long enough ago, on -board the _Vancouver_," I said stoutly. - -"Then I had no voice in it?" Elsie said. - -"Not the least, I assure you! I made up my mind." - -"And so did I," said Elsie, softly. - -"What do you mean, dear?" - -She leant her head against my shoulder, and against my big beard, and -whispered: - -"I made up my mind, dear Tom, that if you didn't love me, I would -never love anyone else, but go and be a nun or a nurse all my life. -And that's why I was so hard, you know!" - -Yes, I knew that well enough. - - -And where was Helen, meantime? I am drawing so near the end of my -story that I must say what I have to in a few words. She had -remained at the ranch until the doctor had declared I was going to -recover (it was no fault of his that I did), and then she went away. -What she told Elsie I have never known, nor shall I ever ask; but -they parted good friends--yes, the best of friends--and she returned -home to Melbourne. I never saw her again, at least not to my -knowledge, although once, when Elsie and I were both in that -city--for I returned to my profession--I thought, nay, for the moment -I made sure, that she had come to know of our presence there. For -Elsie had presents of fruit and flowers almost every day she was at -Melbourne. I part with her now with a strange regret, and somehow I -have never confessed to anyone that I was very vexed at her not -waiting until I was well enough to recognize her before she went. -For, you see, she loved me. - -But--and this is the last--the time came when I was able to go out -with Elsie and Fanny, and though we rode slowly, it did not need -rapid motion to exhilarate me when she was by my side. As for Fanny, -she used to lose us in the stupidest way, just as if she had not been -brought up in the bush, and been able to follow a trail like a black -fellow. But when Harmer came out on Sundays, it was we who lost -them, for Fanny used to go off at full speed, while Jack, who never -got used to a horse for many months, used to risk his neck to keep up -with her. Then she used to annoy him at night by offering him the -softest seat, which he stoutly refused, preferring to suffer untold -tortures on a wooden stool, rather than confess. But I don't think -they will ever imitate us, who got married at last in the autumn at -Thomson Forks. I invited almost everyone I knew to the wedding, and -I made Mac my chief man, much to Jack's disgust. I would even have -invited Montana Bill, but he was lying in the hospital with a bullet -in his shoulder; while Hank Patterson could not come on account of -the police wanting him for putting it there. But half the population -of the Forks had bad headaches next day; and if I didn't have to wear -my right hand in a sling on account of the shaking it got, it was -because I was as strong as ever. The only man who looked unhappy was -Mr. Fleming, and he certainly had a right to be miserable, -considering that I had robbed him of his housekeeper, leaving him to -the tender mercies of flighty Fanny. And she was so vicious to poor -Jack that he actually dared to say to me, "that if Elsie had the -temper of her sister, he was sorry for me, and that it was a pity -Siwash Jim and Mat had made a mess of it." When I rebuked him, he -said merrily, "he guessed it was a free country, and not the poop of -the _Vancouver_." So I let him alone, being quite convinced then, -and I have never changed my opinion since, though we have been -married almost five years, that Elsie Ticehurst is the best wife a -man ever had, and worth fighting for, even against the world. - - - -THE END - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The mate of the Vancouver</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Morley Roberts</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 8, 2022 [eBook #68936]<br /> -[Most recently updated: October 11, 2022]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - THE MATE OF THE<br /> - VANCOUVER<br /> -</h1> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - MORLEY ROBERTS<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - AUTHOR OF "KING BILLY OF BALLARAT," ETC.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - NEW YORK<br /> - STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS<br /> - 238 WILLIAM STREET<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - Copyright, 1892,<br /> - By CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.<br /> -<br /> - Copyright, 1900<br /> - By STREET & SMITH<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -CONTENTS. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART I. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap01">On Board the Vancouver</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART II. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap02">San Francisco and Northward</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART III. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap03">A Golden Link</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART IV. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap04">Love and Hate</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART V. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap05">At the Black Cañon</a> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -PART I. -<br /><br /> -ON BOARD THE VANCOUVER. -</h3> - -<p> -I am going to write, not the history of my -life, which, on the whole, has been as quiet -as most men's, but simply the story of about -a year of it, which, I think, will be almost -as interesting to other folks as any yarn spun -by a professional novel writer; and if I am -wrong, it is because I haven't the knowledge -such have of the way to tell a story. As a -friend of mine, who is an artist, says, I know -I can't put in the foreground properly, but if -I tell the simple facts in my own way, it will -be true, and anything that is really true -always seems to me to have a value of its -own, quite independent of what the papers -call "style," which a sailor, who has never -written much besides a log and a few -love-letters, cannot pretend to have. That is -what I think. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Our family—for somehow it seems as if I -must begin at the beginning—was always -given to the sea. There is a story that my -great-grandfather was a pirate or buccaneer; -my grandfather, I know, was in the Royal -Navy, and my father commanded a China -clipper when they used to make, for those -days, such fast runs home with the new -season's tea. Of course, with these examples -before us, my brother and I took the same -line, and were apprenticed as soon as our -mother could make up her mind to part -with her sons. Will was six years older -than I, and he was second mate in the vessel -in which I served my apprenticeship; but, -though we were brothers, there wasn't much -likeness either of body or mind between us; -for Will had a failing that never troubled -me, and never will; he was always fond of -his glass, a thing I despise in a seaman, and -especially in an officer, who has so many lives -to answer for. -</p> - -<p> -In 1881, when I had been out of my -apprenticeship for rather more than four years, -and had got to be mate by a deal of hard -work—for, to tell the truth, I liked practical -seamanship then much better than navigation -and logarithms—I was with my brother -in the <i>Vancouver</i>, a bark of 1100 tons -register. If it hadn't been for my mother, I -wouldn't have sailed with Will, but she was -always afraid he would get into trouble -through drink; for when he was at home -and heard he was appointed to the command -of this new vessel, he was carried to bed a -great deal the worse for liquor. So when he -offered me the chief officer's billet, mother -persuaded me to take it. -</p> - -<p> -"You must, Tom," she said; "for my sake, -do. You can look after him, and perhaps -shield him if anything happens, for I am in -fear all the time when he is away, but if you -were with him I should be more at ease; for -you are so steady, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -I wasn't so steady as she thought, I dare -say, but still I didn't drink, and that was -something. Anyhow, that's the reason why -I went with Will, and it was through him -and his drinking ways that all the trouble -began that made my life a terror to me, and -yet brought all the sweetness into it that a -man can have, and more than many have a -right to look for. -</p> - -<p> -When we left Liverpool we were bound -for Melbourne with a mixed cargo and -emigrants; and I shouldn't like to say which was -the most mixed, what we had in the hold or -in the steerage, for I don't like such a human -cargo; no sailor does, for they are always in -the way. However, that's neither here nor -there, for though Will got too much to drink -every two days or so on the passage out, -nothing happened then that has any concern -with the story. It was only when we got to -Sandridge that the yarn begins, and it began -in a way that rather took me aback; for -though I had always thought Will a man who -didn't care much for women, or, at any rate, -enough to marry one, our anchor hadn't been -down an hour before a lady came off in a -boat. It was Will's wife, as he explained to -me in a rather shamefaced way when he -introduced her, and a fine-looking woman she -was—of a beautiful complexion with more -red in it than most Australians have, two -piercing black eyes, and a figure that would -have surprised you, it was so straight and -full. -</p> - -<p> -She shook hands with me very firmly, and -looked at me in such a way that it seemed -she saw right through me. -</p> - -<p> -"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ticehurst," -she said; "I know we shall be friends, -you are so like your brother." -</p> - -<p> -Now, somehow, that didn't please me, for -I could throw Will over the spanker boom if -I wanted to; I was much the bigger man of -the two; and as for strength, there was no -comparison between us. Besides—however, -that doesn't matter; and I answered her -heartily enough, for I confess I liked her -looks, though I prefer fair women. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure we shall," said I; "my brother's -wife must be, if I can fix it so." -</p> - -<p> -And with that I went off and left them -alone, for I thought I might not be wanted -there; and I knew very well I was wanted -elsewhere, for Tom Mackenzie, the second -Officer, was making signs for me to come on deck. -</p> - -<p> -After that I saw her a good deal, for we -were often together, especially when she came -down once or twice and found Will the worse -for liquor. The first time she was in a -regular fury about it, and though she didn't say -much, she looked like a woman who could -do anything desperate, or even worse than -that. But the next time she took it more -coolly. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Tom," she said, "he was to take -me to the theater, but now he can't go. What -am I to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know," said I, foolishly enough, -as it seemed, but then I didn't want to take -the hint, which I understood well enough. -</p> - -<p> -"Hum!" she said sharply, looking at me -straight. I believe I blushed a little at being -bowled out, for I was I knew that. However, -when she had made up her mind, she -was not a woman to be baulked. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I know, Tom, if you don't," she -said; "you must take me yourself. I have -the tickets. So get ready." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Helen!" I said, for I really didn't -like to go off with her in that way without -Will's knowing. -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes sparkled, and she stamped her foot. -</p> - -<p> -"I insist on it! So get ready, or I'll go -by myself. And how would Will like that?" -</p> - -<p> -There was no good resisting her, she was -too sharp for me, and I went like a lamb, -doing just as she ordered me, for she was a -masterful woman and accustomed to have her -own way. If I did wrong I was punished for -it afterward, for this was the beginning of a -kind of flirtation which I swear was always -innocent enough on my side, and would have -been on hers too, if Will had not been a -coward with the drink. -</p> - -<p> -In Melbourne we got orders for San Francisco, -and it was only a few days before we -were ready to sail that I found out Helen was -going with us. I was surprised enough any -way, for I knew the owners objected to their -captains having their wives on board, but I -was more surprised that she was ready to -come. I hope you will believe that, for it is -as true as daylight. I thought at first it was -all Will's doing, and he let me think so, for -he didn't like me to know how much she -ruled him when he was sober. However, she -came on board to stay just twenty-four hours -before we sailed; the very day Will went up -to Melbourne to ship two men in place of -two of ours who had run from the vessel. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning, when we were lying in the -bay, for we had hauled out from the wharf -at Sandridge, a boat ran alongside just at six -o'clock, and the two men came on board. -</p> - -<p> -"Who are you, and where are you from?" -I asked roughly, for I didn't like the look of -one of them. -</p> - -<p> -"These are the two hands that Captain -Ticehurst shipped yesterday from a -Williamstown boarding house," said the runner -who was with them. -</p> - -<p> -I always like to ship men from the Sailor's -Home, but I couldn't help myself if Will -chose to take what he could get out of a -den of thieves such as I knew his place to be. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well!" said I gruffly enough. -"Look alive, get your dunnage forward and -turn to!" -</p> - -<p> -One of them was a hard-looking little -Cockney, who seemed a sailor every inch, -though there weren't many of them; but the -other was a dark lithe man, with an evil -face, who looked like some Oriental half-caste. -</p> - -<p> -"Here," said I to the Cockney, "what's -your name?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bill Walker, sir," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"Who's the man with you? What is -he?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Dunno, sir," said Walker, looking forward -at the figure of his shipmate, who was just -disappearing in the fo'c'sle; "I reckon he's -some kind of a Dago, that's what he is, some -kind of a Dago." -</p> - -<p> -Now, a Dago in sailor's language means, -as a rule, a Frenchman, Spaniard, or Greek, -or anyone from southern Europe, just as a -Dutchman means anyone from a Fin down -to a real Hollander; so I wasn't much wiser. -However, in a day or two Bill Walker came -up to me and told me, in a confidential -London twang, that he now believed Matthias, -as he called himself, was a half-caste Malay, -as I had thought at first. But I was to know -him better afterward, as will be seen before -I finish. -</p> - -<p> -Now, it is a strange thing, and it shows -how hard it is for a man not accustomed -to writing, like myself, to tell a story in the -proper way, that I have not said anything -of the passengers who were going with us to -San Francisco. I could understand it if I -had been writing this down just at the time -these things happened, but when I think -that I have put the Malay before Elsie -Fleming, even if he came into my life first, -I am almost ready to laugh at my own -stupidity. For Elsie was the brightest, -bonniest girl I ever saw, and even now I find it -hard not to let the cat out of the bag before -the hour. As a matter of fact, this being the -third time I have written all this over, I had -to cut out pages about Elsie which did not -come in their proper place. So now I shall -say no more than that Elsie and her sister -Fanny, and their father, took passage with us -to California, as we were the only sailing -vessel going that way; and old Fleming, -who had been a sailor himself, fairly hated -steamboats—aye, a good deal worse than I -do, for I think them a curse to sailors. But -when they came on board I was busy as a -mate is when ready to go to sea, and though -I believe I must have been blind, yet I hardly -took any notice of the two sisters, more than -to remark that one had hair like gold and a -laugh which was as sweet as a fair wind up -Channel. But I came to know her better -since; though in a way different from the Malay. -</p> - -<p> -When we had got our anchor on board, -and were fairly out to sea, heading for -Bass's Straits, I saw her and Helen talking -together, and I think it was the contrast -between the two that first attracted me -toward her, not much liking dark women, -being dark myself. She seemed, compared -with Will's wife, as fair as an angel from -heaven, though the glint of her eyes, and her -quick, bright ways, showed she was a woman -all over. I took a fancy to her that moment, -and I believe Helen saw it, when I think -over what has happened since, for she -frowned and bit her lip hard, until I could -see a mark there. But I didn't know then -what I do now, and besides, I had no -time to think about such things just then, -for we were hard at it getting things shipshape. -</p> - -<p> -Tom Mackenzie, the second officer, and -a much older man than myself—for he had -been to sea for seventeen years before he -took it into his head to try for his second -mate's ticket—came up to me when the men -were mustered aft. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Ticehurst," said he gruffly, "I should -be glad if you'd take that Malay chap in -your watch, for I have two d—d Dagos -already, who are always quarreling, and if -I have three, there will be bloodshed for -sure. I don't like his looks." -</p> - -<p> -"No more do I," I answered; "but I don't -care for his looks. I've tamed worse looking -men; and if you ask it, Mackenzie, why I'll -have him and you can take the Cockney." -</p> - -<p> -I think this was very good of me, for Bill -Walker, I could see, was a real smart hand, -and a merry fellow, not one of those -grumblers who always make trouble for'ard, and -come aft at the head of a deputation once -a week growling about the victuals. But -Mackenzie was a good sort, and though he -was under me, I knew that for practical -seamanship—though I won't take a back -seat among any men of my years at sea—he -was ahead of all of us. So I was ready -to do him a good turn, and it was true -enough he had two Greeks in his watch -already. -</p> - -<p> -When we had been to sea about a week, -and got into the regular routine of work, -which comes round just as it does in a house, -for it is never done, Will got into his routine, -too, and was drunk every day just as regular -as eight bells at noon. Helen came to me, -of course. -</p> - -<p> -"Tom, can't you do something?" she said, -with tears in her eyes, the first time I ever -saw them there, though not the last. "It is -horrible to think of his drinking this way! -And then before those two girls—I am -ashamed of myself and of him! Can't you -do anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"What can I do, Helen?" I asked. "I -can't take it from him; I can't stave the -liquor, there's too much of it; besides, he is -captain, if he is my brother, and I can't go -against him." -</p> - -<p> -"But can't you try and persuade him, -Tom?" and she caught my arm and looked -at me so sorrowfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Haven't I done it, Helen!" I answered. -"Do you think I have seen him going to -hell these two years without speaking? But -what good is it—what good is it?" -</p> - -<p> -She turned away and sat down by Elsie -and Fanny, while just underneath in the -saloon Will was singing some old song -about "Pass the bottle round." He did, -too, and it comes round quick at a party of one. -</p> - -<p> -I can see easily that if I tell everything in -this way I shall never finish my task until I -have a pile of manuscript as big as the log of -a three years' voyage, so I shall have to get -on quickly, and just say what is necessary, -and no more. And now I must say that by -this time I was in love with Elsie Fleming, -in love as much as a man can be, in love with -a passion that trial only strengthened, and -time could not and cannot destroy. It was -no wonder I loved her, for she was the fairest, -sweetest maid I ever saw, with long golden -hair, bright blue eyes that looked straight at -one, but which could be very soft too sometimes, -and a neat little figure that made me -feel, great strong brute that I was, as clumsy -as an ox, though I was as quick yet to go -aloft as any young man if occasion called for -the mate to show his men the way. And -when we were a little more than half across -the Pacific to the Golden Gate, I began to -think that Elsie liked me more than she did -anyone else, for she would often talk to me -about her past life in sunny New South -Wales, and shiver to think that her father -might insist on staying a long time in British -Columbia, for he was going to take possession -of a farm left him by an old uncle near a place -called Thomson Forks. -</p> - -<p> -It was sweet to have her near me in the -first watch, and I cursed quietly to myself -when young Jack Harmer, the apprentice, -struck four bells, for at ten o'clock she always -said, "Good-night, Mr. Ticehurst. I must go -now. How sleepy one does get at sea! Dear -me, how can you keep your eyes open?" And -when she went down it seemed as if the moon -and stars went out. -</p> - -<p> -When it was old Mackenzie's first watch I -was almost fool enough to be jealous of her -being with him then, though he had a wife at -home, and a daughter just as old as Elsie, and -he thought no more of women, as a rule, than -a hog does of harmony, as I once heard an -American say. Still, when I lay awake and -heard her step overhead, for I knew it well, I -was almost ready to get up then and there -and make an unutterable fool of myself by -losing my natural sleep. -</p> - -<p> -And now I am coming to what I would -willingly leave out. I hope that people won't -think badly of me for my share in it, for -though I was not always such a straight -walker in life as some are, yet I would not do -what evil-minded folks might think I did. -Somehow I have a difficulty in putting it -down, for though I have spoken of it -sometimes sorrowfully enough to one who is very -dear to me, yet to write it coolly on paper -seems cowardly and treacherous. And yet, -seeing that I can harm no one, and knowing -as I do in my heart that I wasn't to blame, I -must do it, and do it as kindly as I can. -This is what I mean: I began to see that -Helen loved me more than she should have -done, and that she hated Will bitterly, but -Elsie even worse. -</p> - -<p> -It was a great surprise to me, for, to tell -the truth, women as a general rule have -never taken to me very much, and Will was -always the one in our family who had most -to do with them. And for my part, until I -saw Elsie I never really loved anyone, -although, like most men, I have had a few -troubles which until then I thought -love-affairs. So it was very hard to convince -myself that what I suspected was true, even -though I believe that I have a natural fitness -for judging people and seeing through them, -even women, who some folks say do not act -from reason like men. However, I don't think -they are much different, for few of us act -reasonably. But all this has nothing to do with -the matter in hand. Now, I must confess, -although it seems wicked, that I was a little -pleased at first to think that two women loved -me, for we are all vain, and that certainly -touches a man's vanity, and yet I was sorry -too, for I foresaw trouble unless I was very -careful, though not all the woe and pain which -came out of this business before the end. -</p> - -<p> -The first thing that made me suspect -something was wrong, was that Helen almost -ceased to keep Will from the bottle, and she -taunted him bitterly, so bitterly, that if he -had not usually been a good-tempered fellow -even when drunk, he might have turned -nasty and struck her. And then she would -never leave me and Elsie alone if she could -help it, although she was not hypocrite -enough to pretend to be very fond of her. -Indeed, Elsie said one night to me that she -was afraid Mrs. Ticehurst didn't like her. I -laughed, but I saw it was true. Then, -whenever she could, Helen came and walked with -me, and she hardly ever spoke. It seems to -me now, when I know all, that she was in a -perpetual conflict, and was hardly in her right -mind. I should like to think that she was not. -</p> - -<p> -I was in a very difficult position, as any -man will admit. I loved Elsie dearly; I was -convinced my brother's wife loved me; and -we were all four shut up on ship-board. I -think if we had been on land I should have -spoken to Elsie and run away from the -others, but here I could not speak without -telling her more than I desired, or without -our being in the position of lovers, which -might have caused trouble. For I even -thought, so suspicious does a man get, -that Helen might perhaps have come on -board more on my account than on Will's. -</p> - -<p> -All this time we were making very fair -headway, for we had a good breeze astern of -us, and the "Islands" (as they call them in -San Francisco), that is the Sandwich Islands, -were a long way behind us. If we had -continued to have fine weather, or if Will had -kept sober, or even so drunk that he could -not have interfered in working the ship, -things might not have taken the turn they -did, and what happened between me and the -Malay who called himself Matthias might -never have occurred. And when I look back -on the train of circumstances, it almost makes -me believe in Fate, though I should be -unwilling to do that; for I was taught by my -mother, a very intelligent woman who read a -great deal of theology, that men have free -will and can do as they please. -</p> - -<p> -However, when we were nearing the -western coast of America, Will, who had a -great notion—a much greater one than I had, -by the way—of his navigation, began to come -up every day and take his observations with -me, until at last the weather altered so for the -worse, and it came on to blow so hard, that -neither of us could take any more. Now, if -Will drank enough, Heaven knows, in fine -weather, he drank a deal harder in foul, -though by getting excited it didn't have the -usual effect on him, and he kept about -without going to sleep just where he sat or lay -down. So he was always on deck, much to -my annoyance, for I could see the men laughing -as he clung to the rail at the break of the -poop, bowing and scraping, like an -intoxicated dancing master, with every roll the -<i>Vancouver</i> made. -</p> - -<p> -For five days we had been running by dead -reckoning, and as well as I could make out we -were heading straight for the coast, a good -bit to the nor'ard of our true course. Besides, -we were a good fifty miles farther east than -Will made out, according to his figures, and I -said as much to him. He laughed scornfully. -"I'm captain of this ship," said he; "and -Tom—don't you interfere. If I've a mind to knock -Mendocino County into the middle of next -week, I'll do it! But I haven't, and we are -running just right." -</p> - -<p> -You see, when he was in this state he was -a very hard man to work with, and if we -differed in our figures I had often enough a big -job to convince him that he was wrong. And -being wrong even a second in the longitude -means being sixty miles out. And with only -dead reckoning to rely on, we should have -been feeling our way cautiously toward the -coast, seeing that in any case we might fetch -up on the Farallon Islands, which lie twenty -miles west of the Golden Gate. -</p> - -<p> -On the sixth day of this weather it began -to clear up a little in the morning watch, and -there seemed some possibility of our getting -sight of the sun before eight bells. Will was -on deck, and rather more sober than usual. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, sir," said I to him, for I was just as -respectful, I'll swear, as if he was no relation, -"there seems a chance of getting an observation; -shall we take it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," said he. "Send Harmer -here, and we'll wait for a chance." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer came aft, and brought up Will's -sextant, and just then the port foretopsail -sheet parted, for it was really blowing hard, -though the sun came out at intervals. I ran -forward myself, and by the time the watch -had clewed up the sail and made it fast, eight -bells had struck. When I went aft I met Harmer. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you get an observation!" I asked -anxiously, for when a man has the woman he -loves on board it makes him feel worried, -especially if things go as they were going -then. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, "and the -captain is working it out now. But, sir, if I -were you I would go over it after him, for -two heads are better than one," and he -laughed, being a merry, thoughtless -youngster, and went into his berth. -</p> - -<p> -However, I did not do what he said, thinking -that we should both get an observation -at noon. We were very lucky to do so, for -it began to thicken again at ten o'clock, and -we were in a heavy fog until nearly twelve. -And as soon as eight bells was struck, the -fog which had lifted came down again. -</p> - -<p> -When I got below Will already had the -chart out, and was showing the women where -we were, as he said; and when I came in he -called me. -</p> - -<p> -"There, look, Mr. Chief Officer! what did -I tell you? Look!" and he pricked off our -position as being just about where he had -reckoned. -</p> - -<p> -I took up the slate he had been making -the calculation on, but he saw me, and snatched -it out of my hand. -</p> - -<p> -"What d'ye mean?" said he fiercely; "what -do you want?" and he threw it on the deck, -smashing it in four pieces. I made a sign to -Elsie, and she picked them up like lightning, -while Will called for the steward and some -more brandy, and began drinking in a worse -temper than I had ever seen him in. -</p> - -<p> -When I passed Elsie she gave me the -broken bits of slate, and I went into my cabin, -pieced them together, and worked the whole -thing out again. And when I had done it -the blood ran to my head and I almost fell. -For the morning observation which Will only -had taken was wrongly worked out. I ran -out on deck like lightning, and found it a -thick fog all round us, for all the wind. Old -Mackenzie was in the poop, and he roared out -when he saw me: -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter, Tom Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -"Put the ship up into the wind, for God's -sake!" I shouted. "And send a hand up -aloft to look out, for the coast should be -right under our bows. We must be in -Ballinas Bay." And as he ported the helm, -I rushed back into the cabin and took the -chart out again to verify our position as near -as I could. The coast ought to be in sight if -the fog cleared. For we had run through or -past the Farallones without seeing them. -</p> - -<p> -When I came down the women all cried -out at the sight of me, for though I controlled -myself all I could, it was impossible, so -sudden was the shock, to hide all I felt. And -just then the <i>Vancouver</i> was coming into the -wind, the men were at the lee braces, and as -she dived suddenly into the head seas, her -pitches were tremendous. It seemed to the -women that something must be wrong, -while Will, who, seaman-like, knew what had -happened, though mad with drink, rushed on -deck with a fierce oath. I dropped the chart -and ran after him; yet I stayed a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"It will be all right," I said to the women; -"but I can't tell you now." And I followed -Will, who had got hold of old Mackenzie by -the throat, while the poor fellow looked -thunderstruck. -</p> - -<p> -"What the devil are you doing?" he -screamed. "Why don't you keep the course? -Man the weather-braces, you dogs, and put -the helm up!" -</p> - -<p> -But no one stirred; while Tom Mackenzie, -seeing me there, took Will by the wrists and -threw him away from him. I caught him as -he fell, roaring, "Mutiny! Mutiny!" -</p> - -<p> -"It's no mutiny!" I shouted, in my turn; -"if we keep your course we shall be on the -rocks in half an hour. I tell you the land is -dead to loo-ard, aye, and not five miles off." -</p> - -<p> -But it was less than that, for just then it -cleared up a little. And the lookout on the -foreyard shouted, "Land on the lee-bow!" Then -he cried out, "Land right ahead!" Whether -Will heard him or not, I don't -know, but he broke away from me and fell, -rather than went, down the companion, and -in a moment I heard the women scream. -</p> - -<p> -I caught Mackenzie by the arm. -</p> - -<p> -"It's for our lives, and the lives of the -women? He's gone for his revolver! I -shall take command!" -</p> - -<p> -And I sprang behind the companion like -lightning. And just in time, for, as Will -came up, I saw he was armed, and I jumped -right on his back. His revolver went off and -struck the taffrail; the next moment I had -kicked it forward to where Mackenzie was -standing, and grasped Will by the arms. -</p> - -<p> -I had never given him credit for the -strength he showed, but then he was mad, -mad drunk, and it was not till Walker and -Matthias—for all hands were on deck by this -time—came to help me that I secured him. -In the struggle Will drew back his foot and -kicked the Malay in the face, and as he rose, -with the evilest look I ever saw on a man's -countenance, he drew his knife instinctively. -With my left hand I caught his wrist and -nearly broke it, while the knife flew out of -his hand. And then, even by that simple -action, I saw that I had made an enemy of -this man, whom up to this time I had always -been kind to and treated with far more -consideration than he would have got from -rough old Mac. But this is only by the -way, though it is important enough to the -story. -</p> - -<p> -I had to tie Will's hands, and all the time -he foamed at the mouth, ordering the crew to -assist him. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll have you hung, you dogs, all of you!" -he shrieked, while the three women stood on -the companion-ladder, white and trembling -with fear. -</p> - -<p> -It was with great trouble that we got him -below, and when he was there I shut him in -his berth, and sent the two stewards in with -him to see that he neither did himself harm -nor got free, and then I turned my attention -to saving the ship and our lives. -</p> - -<p> -We were in an awfully critical situation, -and one which, in ordinary circumstances, -might have made a man's heart quail; but -now—with the woman I loved on board—it -was maddening to think of, and made me -curse my brother who had brought us into it. -Think of what it was. Not five miles on our -lee-bow there was the land, and we could even -distinguish as we lifted on the sea the cruel -line of white breakers which seemed to run -nearly abeam, for the <i>Vancouver</i> was not a -very weatherly ship, and the gale, instead -of breaking, increased, until, if I had -dared, I would have ordered sail to be -shortened. -</p> - -<p> -I went to the chart again. Just as I took -it, Mackenzie called to me, "Mr. Ticehurst, -there's a big flat-topped mountain some way -inland. I think it must be Table Mountain." Yes, -he knew the coast, and even as I looked -at the chart, I heard him order the helm to -be put up. I saw why, for when we had -hauled into the wind, we were heading dead -for the great four-fathom bank that lies off -Bonita Point. But there was a channel -between it and the land. -</p> - -<p> -I ran on deck and spoke to Mackenzie. He -pointed out on the starboard hand, and there -the water was breaking on the bank. We -were running for the narrow channel under a -considerable press of canvas, seeing how it -blew; for all Mac relieved her of when we -first put her into the wind was the main -top-gallant sail. And now I could do nothing -for a moment but try to get sight of our -landmarks, and keep sight of them, for the -weather was still thick. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, as it might have seemed for -us, the chain-cables had already been ranged -fore and aft on the deck, and I told Mackenzie -to see them bent on to the anchors, and the -stoppers made ready. Yet I knew that if we -had to anchor, we were lost; in such a gale it -could only postpone our fate, for they would -come home or part to a dead certainty. -</p> - -<p> -Mackenzie and I stood together on the -poop watching anxiously for the right moment -to haul our wind again. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think of it, Mr. Mackenzie?" -I said, as I clung on to a weather backstay. -"Where do you think we shall be in half an -hour?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I shall ever see Whitechapel -again, sir," he answered quietly, and I knew -he was thinking of home, of his wife and his -daughter. "She will go to leeward like a -butter-cask in this sea; and now look at the -land!" And he pointed toward the line of -breakers on the land, which came nearer and -nearer. We waited yet a few minutes, and -then I looked at Mackenzie inquiringly. -"Yes, I think so, sir," he said, and with my -hand I motioned the men at the wheel to put -the helm down again. As she came into the -wind the upper foretopsail blew out of the -boltropes, while the vessel struggled like a -beaten hound that is being dragged to -execution, and shivered from stem to stern. -For the waves were running what landsmen -call mountains high; she now shipped a sea -every moment, which came in a flood over -the fo'c'sle head; and pouring down through -the scuttle, the cover of which had been -washed overboard, it sent the men's chests -adrift in the fo'c'sle and washed the blankets -out of the lower bunks. And to windward -the roar of the breakers on the bank was -deafening. I went below just for a moment. -I knew I had no right to go there, my place -was on deck, but could not help myself. I -must see Elsie once more before we died, for -if the vessel struck, the first sea that washed -over her might take me with it, and we -should never see each other again on earth. -But the two sisters were not in the saloon. I -stepped toward their berth, and Helen met -me, rising up from the deck, where she had -been crouching down in terror. -</p> - -<p> -I have said she was beautiful; and so she -was when she smiled, and the pleasant light -fell about her like sunlight on some strange -and rare tropical flower, showing her rosy -complexion, her delicate skin of full-blooded -olive, and her coils of dark and shining hair -But I never saw her so beautiful as she was -then, clothed strangely with the fear of death, -white with passion that might have made a -weaker woman crimson with shame, and -fiercely triumphant with a bitter -self-conquest. She caught me by the arm. "Tom, -dear Tom," she said, in a wonderful voice -that came to me clearly through the howl of -the wind, "I know there is not hope for us. -He" (and she pointed toward her husband's -cabin) "has ruined us! I hate him! And, -Tom, now it is all over, and we shall not -live! Say good-by to me, say good-by!" -</p> - -<p> -I stood thunderstruck and motionless, for -I knew what she meant even before she put -up her hands and took me round the neck. -"Kiss me once, just once, and I will die—for -now I could not live, and would not! Kiss -me!" And I did kiss her. Why, I know not, -whether out of pity (it was not love—no, -not love of any kind, I swear) or from the -strong constraint of her force of mind, I -cannot say; and as I lifted my head from hers, I -saw Elsie, the woman I did love, looking at -me with shame at my fall, as she thought, -and with scorn. I freed myself from Helen, -who sank down on her knees without seeing -that she had been observed, and I went -toward Elsie. She, too, was pale, though not -with fear, for perhaps she was ignorant of her -danger, but as I thought with a little feeling -of triumph even then, for we are strange -beings, with jealousy and anger. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a coward and a traitor!" she -said, when I reached her. -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, I am not, Elsie," I answered -sharply; "but perhaps you will never know -that I am speaking the truth. But let that -be; are you a brave woman? For—— But -where is your father?" -</p> - -<p> -"With Fanny," she answered, disdainfully -even then. -</p> - -<p> -I called him, and he came out. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Fleming," I said; "you know our -position; in a few minutes we shall be safe -or—ashore. Get your daughters dressed -warmly; stay at the foot of the companion -with them, and, if it is necessary, come up -when I call you." -</p> - -<p> -The old man shook hands with me and -pointed to Will's wife. I had forgotten her! -</p> - -<p> -"Look after her, too," I said, and went to -Will's cabin. He was fast asleep and snoring -hard. I could hardly keep from striking -him, but I let him lie. Was it a wonder that -a woman ceased to love him? And I went -on deck. -</p> - -<p> -I had not been absent five minutes, but in -that time the wind had increased even more, -the seas seemed to have grown heavier, the -decks were full of water, and the fatal wake -was yet broader on the weather-quarter. All -the men were aft under the break of the -poop, and most of them, thinking that we -must go ashore, had taken off their oilskins -and sea-boots ready for an effort to save -themselves at the last. Even in the state of -mind that I was in then, I saw clearly, and -the strange picture they presented—wet -through, some with no hats on, up to their -knees in water, for the decks could not clear -themselves, though some of the main deck -ports were stove in and some out in the -bulwarks—remains vividly with me now. -Among them stood Matthias, with a red -handkerchief over his head, and a swelled -cheek, where Will had struck him. By his -side was Walker, the only man in the crowd -who seemed cheerful, and he actually smiled. -Perhaps he was what the Scotch called "fey." -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly Mackenzie called me loudly. -</p> - -<p> -"Look sir, look! There is the point, the -last of the land! It's Bonita Point, if I -know this coast at all!" -</p> - -<p> -I sprang into the weather mizzen rigging, -and the men, who had noticed the second -mate's gestures, did the same at the main. -I could see the Point, and knew it, and I -knew if we could only weather it we could -put the helm up and run into San Francisco -in safety. Just then Harmer, who was as -cool as a cucumber, struck four bells, and -Matthias and a man called Thompson, an old -one-eyed sailor, came up to relieve the wheel. -</p> - -<p> -The point which we had to weather was -about as far from us as the land dead to -leeward, and it was touch and go whether we -should clear it or not. The <i>Vancouver</i> made -such leeway, closehauled, that it seemed -doubtful, and I fancied we should have a -better chance if I freed her a little, to let her -go through the water faster. Yet it was a -ticklish point, and one not to be decided -without thought in a situation which -demanded instant action. -</p> - -<p> -"What think you, Mac," said I hurriedly; -"shall we ease her half a point?" -</p> - -<p> -He nodded, and I spoke to the men at the -wheel, and as I did so I noticed the Malay's -face, which was ghastly with fear, although -he seemed steady enough. But I thought it -best to alter the way they stood, for the -Englishman had the lee wheel. I ordered -them to change places. -</p> - -<p> -"What's that for, sir?" said Matthias, -almost disrespectfully. I stared at him. -</p> - -<p> -"Do as you are told, you dog!" I -answered roughly, for I had no time to be -polite. "I don't like your steering. I have -noticed it before." -</p> - -<p> -When the course was altered she got much -more way on her, but neared the land yet -more rapidly. I called the men on to the -poop, for I had long before this determined -not to chance the anchors, and looked down -into the saloon to see if the women were there. -</p> - -<p> -As I did so Mr. Fleming called me. -</p> - -<p> -"If I can be of any use, Mr. Ticehurst, I -am ready." -</p> - -<p> -"I think not, Mr. Fleming," I replied as -cheerfully as possible; "we shall be out of -danger in a few minutes—or on the rocks," I -added to myself, as I closed the hatch. -</p> - -<p> -It was a breathless and awful time, and I -confess that for a few moments I forgot the -very existence of Elsie, as I calculated over -and over again the chances as we neared the -Point. It depended on a hair, and when -I looked at Mackenzie, who was silent and -gloomy, I feared the worst. Yet it shows -how strangely one can be affected by one's -fellows that when I saw Harmer and Walker -standing side by side their almost cheerful -faces made me hope, and I smiled. But we -were within three cables' length of the Point, -and the roar of the breakers came up against -the wind until it deafened us. I watched -the men at the wheel, and I saw Matthias -flinch visibly as though he had been struck -by a whip. I didn't know why it was, I am -not good at such things, but I took a deeper -dislike to him that moment than I had ever -had, and I stepped up to him. Now in what -followed perhaps I myself was to blame, and -yet I feel I could not have acted differently. -Perhaps I looked threatening at him as I -approached, but at any rate he let go the wheel -and fell back on the gratings. With an angry -oath I jumped into his place, struck him with -my heel, and then I saw Walker make a -tremendous spring for me, with an expression -of alarm in his face, as he looked beyond me, -that made me make a half turn. And that -movement saved my life. I felt the knife of -Matthias enter my shoulder like a red-hot -iron, and then it was wrenched out of his -hand and out of the wound by Walker. -</p> - -<p> -In a moment the two were locked together, -and in another they were separated by -Mackenzie and the others; and Walker stood -smiling with the knife in his hand. Although -the blood was running down my body, I did -not feel faint, and kept my eye fixed on the -course kept by the <i>Vancouver</i>, while Mackenzie -held me in his arms, and Harmer took the -lee wheel from me. -</p> - -<p> -"Luff a little!" I cried, for we were almost -on the Point, and I saw a rock nearly dead -ahead. "Luff a little!" and they put the -helm down on a spoke or two. -</p> - -<p> -The moments crawled by, and the coast -crawled nearer and nearer, as I began to feel -I was going blind and fainting. But I clung -to life and vision desperately, and the last I -saw was what I can see now, and shall always -see as plainly, the high black Point with its -ring of white water crawl aft and yet nearer, -aft to the foremast, aft to the mainmast -and then I fell and knew no more. For we -were saved. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to, we were before the wind, -and I lay on a mattress in the cabin. Near -me was Elsie, and by her Helen, who was as -white as death. Both were watching me, and -when I opened my eyes Helen fell on her -knees and suddenly went crimson, and then -white again, and fainted. But Elsie looked -harder and sterner than I had ever seen her. -I turned my face away, and near me I saw -another mattress with a covered figure on it, -the figure of a dead man, for I knew the shape. -In my state of faintness a strange and horrible -delirium took possession of me. It seemed -as if what I saw was seen only by myself, and -that it was a prophecy of my death. I fainted -again. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to we were at anchor in San -Francisco Bay, and a doctor from the shore was -attending to me, while Mackenzie stood by, -smiling and rubbing his hands as if delighted -to get me off them. I looked at him and he -knelt down by me. -</p> - -<p> -"Mackenzie, old man," I whispered, "didn't -I see somebody dead here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aye, poor chap," he answered, brushing -away a tear; "it was poor Walker." -</p> - -<p> -"Walker!" I said. "How was that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Accident, sir," said old Mac. "Just as -we rounded the Point and you fainted, the -old bark gave a heavy roll as we put her -before the wind, and Walker, as he was standing -with that black dog's knife in his hand, -slipped and fell. The blade entered his -body, and all he said after was, 'It was his -knife after all. He threatened to do for me -yesterday.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Where's Will?" I asked, when he ended, -for I was somehow anxious to save my -brother's credit, and I shouldn't have liked -to see him dismissed from the ship. -</p> - -<p> -"He's on deck now, as busy as the devil in -a gale of wind," growled Mackenzie. "'Tis -he that saved the ship. Oh, he's a mighty -man!—but I don't sail with him no more." -</p> - -<p> -However, he altered his mind about that. -</p> - -<p> -Now, it has taken me a long time to get to -this point, and perhaps if I had been a better -navigator in the waters of story-telling I might -have done just what Will didn't do, and have -missed all the trouble of beating to windward -to get round to this part of my story. I might -have put it all in a few words, perhaps, but -then I like people to understand what I am -about, and it seems to me necessary. If it -isn't, I dare say someone will tell me one -of these days. At any rate, here I have got -into San Francisco, a city I don't like by the -way, for it is a rascally place, managed by -the professional politicians, who are the worst -men in it; I had been badly wounded, -and the Malay was in prison, and (not -having money) he was likely to stay there. -</p> - -<p> -I was in the hospital for three weeks, and -I never had a more miserable or lonely time. -If I had not been stronger in constitution -than most men I think I should have died, so -much was I worried by my love for Elsie, -who was going away thinking me a scoundrel, -who had tried to gain the love of my -brother's wife. Of course she did not come -near me, though I knew the Flemings were -still in the city. I learnt so much from Will, -who had the grace to come and see me, -thanking me, too, for having saved the <i>Vancouver</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"You must get well soon, Tom," said he, -"for I need you very much just now." -</p> - -<p> -I kept silence, and he looked at me inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -"Will," I said at length, "I shall never I -sail with you again—I can't do it." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" he cried, in a loud voice, -which made the nurse come up and request -him to speak in a little lower tone. "Why -not? I can't see what difference it will make, -anything that has occurred." -</p> - -<p> -No, he did not see, but then he did not -know. How could I go in the ship again -with Helen? Besides, I had determined to -win Elsie for my wife, and how could I do -that if I let her go now, thinking what she -did of me? -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Will, I can't go," said I once more; -"and I don't think I shall go to sea again, I -am sick of it." -</p> - -<p> -Will stared, and whistled, and laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Ho!" said he; "I think I see how the -land lies. You are going to settle in British -Columbia, eh? You are a sly dog, but I can -see through you. I know your little love-affair; -Helen told me as much as that one day." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, Will," I answered wearily, for -I was out of heart lying there, "if you know, -you can understand now why I am not going -to sail with you. But, Will," and I rose on -my elbow, hurting myself considerably as I -did so, "let me implore you not to drink in -future. Have done with it. It will be your -ruin and your wife's—aye, and if I sailed -with you, mine as well. Give me your hand, -and say you will be a sober man for the -future, and then I shall be content to go -where I must go—aye, and where I will go." -</p> - -<p> -He gave me his hand, that was hot with -what he had been drinking even then (it was -eleven in the morning), and I saw tears in his -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"I will try, Tom," he muttered; "but——" -</p> - -<p> -I think that "but" was the saddest word, -and the most prophetic, I ever heard on any -man's lips. I saw how vain it was, and turned -away. He shook hands, and went without -saying more than "Good-by, Tom." I saw -him twice after that, and just twice. -</p> - -<p> -By the time I was out of the hospital the -<i>Vancouver</i> was ready to go to sea, being -bound to England; and she might have -sailed even then, only it was necessary for -Tom Mackenzie and one or two others to -remain as witnesses when they tried Matthias -for stabbing me. I shall not go into a long -description of the trial, for I have read in -books of late so many trial scenes that I fear -I should not have the patience to give details, -which, after all, are not necessary, since the -whole affair was so simple. And yet, what -followed afterward from that affair I can -remember as brightly and distinctly as if in -a glass—the look of the dingy court, the -fierce and revengeful eyes of Matthias, who -never spoke till the last, and the appearance -of Helen and Fanny (Elsie was not -there)—when the judge after the verdict inflicted a -sentence of eighteen months' hard labor on -the prisoner. Perhaps he had been in prison -before, and knew what it meant, or it was -simply the bitter thought of a revengeful -Oriental at being worsted by his opponent; -but when he heard the sentence, he leant -forward and grasped the rail in front of him -tightly, and spoke. His skin was dark and -yet pallid, the perspiration stood in beads on -his forehead, he bit his lips until blood came, -while his eyes looked more like the eyes of a -human beast than those of a man. This is -what he said as he looked at me, and he -spoke with a strange intensity which hushed -all noise. -</p> - -<p> -"When I come out of jail I will track you -night and day, wherever you go or whatever -you do to escape me. Though you think I -do not know where you are, I shall always -be seeking for you, and at last I shall find -you. If a curse of mine could touch you, -you should rot and wither now, but the time -will come when my hand shall strike you down!" -</p> - -<p> -Such was the meaning of what he said, -although it was not put exactly as I have -here written it down; and if I confess, as I -should have to do at last before the end of -this story comes, that the words and the way -they were spoken—spoken so vehemently -and with so fixed a resolution—made me -shiver and feel afraid in a way I had never -done before, I hope nobody will blame me; -but I am sure that being in love makes a -coward of a man in many ways, and in one -moment I saw myself robbed of life and love -just at their fruition. I beheld myself -clasping Elsie to my bosom, having won from her -at last an avowal of her love, and then -stabbed or shot in her arms. Ah! it was -dreadful the number of fashions my mind -went to work, in a quick fever of black -apprehension, to foretell or foresee my own -possible doom. I had never thought myself -cowardly, but then I seemed to see what -death meant better than I had ever done; -and often the coward is what he is, as I think -now, from a vivid imagination, which so -many of us lack. I went out of the court in -a strange whirl, for you see I had only just -recovered. If I had been quite well I might -have laughed instead of feeling as I did. -But I did not laugh then. -</p> - -<p> -Now, on the next morning the <i>Vancouver</i> -was to leave the harbor, being then at anchor -off Goat Island. All the money that was -due to me I had taken, for Will had given -me my discharge, and I sent home for what I -had saved, being quite uncertain what I -should do if I followed Elsie to British -Columbia. And that night I saw the last of -Will, the last I ever saw, little thinking then -how his fate and mine were bound up -together, nor what it was to be. Helen was -with him, and I think if he had been sober -or even gentle with her in his drink, she -would have never spoken to me again as she -did on that day when she believed that life -was nearly at its end for both of us. But -Will, having finished all his business, had -begun to drink again, and was in a vile -temper as we sat in a room at the American -Exchange Hotel, where I was staying. -Helen tried to prevent his drinking. -</p> - -<p> -"Will," she said, in rather a hard voice -from the constraint she put on herself, "you -have had enough of drink, we had better go -on board." -</p> - -<p> -"Go on board yourself," said he, "and -don't jaw me! I wish I had left you in -Australia. A woman on board a ship is like -a piano in the fo'c'sle. Come and have a -drink, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you," I said; "I have had -quite enough." -</p> - -<p> -And out he went, standing drinks at the -bar to half a dozen, some of whom would -have cut his throat for a dollar, I dare say, by -the looks of them. Then Helen came over -and sat down by me. -</p> - -<p> -"I have never spoken to you, Tom," she -began, and then she stopped, "since—you -know, since that dreadful day outside there," -and she pointed, just like a woman who -never knows the bearings of a place until she -has reckoned out how the house points first, -to the East when she meant the West, "and -now I feel I must, because I may never have -the chance again." -</p> - -<p> -She took out her handkerchief, although -she was dry-eyed, and twisted it into a -regular ground-swell knot, until I saw the stuff -give way here and there. She seemed -unable to go on, and perhaps she would not -have said more if we hadn't heard Will's -voice, thick with drink, as he demanded more -liquor. -</p> - -<p> -"Hear him!" she said hurriedly, "hear -the man who is my husband! What a fool I -was! You don't know, but I was. And I -am his wife! Ah! I could kill him! I -could! I could!" -</p> - -<p> -I was horrified to see the passion she was -in; it seemed to have a touch of real male -fury in it, just as when a man is trying to -control himself, feeling that if one more -provocation is given him he will commit murder, -for she shook and shivered, and her voice -was strangely altered. -</p> - -<p> -And just then Will came back, demanding -with an oath if she was ready to go. -She never spoke, but I should have been -sorry to have any woman look at me as she -did at him when his eyes were off her. I -shook hands with her and with him, for the -last time, and they went away. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning, being lonely and having -nothing to do I went out to the park, made -on the great sand-dunes which runs from the -higher city to the ocean beach and the Cliff -House on the south side of the Golden Gate. -For the sake of a quiet think I went out by -the cars, and walked to a place where few -ever came but chance visitors, except on -Sunday. It is just at the bend of the great -drive and a little above the road, where -there is a large tank with a wooden top, -which makes a good seat from which one -can see back to San Francisco and across the -bay to Oakland, Saucelito, and the other -little watering-places in the bay; or before -one, toward the opening of the Golden -Gate, and the guns of Alcatraz Island, where -the military prison is. Here I took my seat -and looked out on the quiet beautiful bay -and the sea just breaking in a line of foam -on the beach beneath me. The sight of the -ships at anchor was rather melancholy to me, -for my life had been on the sea. It seemed -as if a new and unknown life were before -me; and a sailor starting anything ashore is -as strange as though some inveterate dweller -in a city should go to sea. There were one -or two white sails outside the Heads, and -one vessel was being towed in; there was a -broad wake from the Saucelito ferry-boat, -and far out to sea I saw the low Farallones -lying like a cloud on the horizon. It was -beyond them that my new life had begun, -really begun; and though the day was fair, -I knew not how soon foul weather might -overtake me, and I knew indeed that it could -only be postponed unless fate were very -kind. I don't know how long I sat on that -tank drumming on the hollow wood, as I idly -picked up the pebbles from the ground and -threw them down into the road; but at last -I saw what I had partly been waiting -for—the <i>Vancouver</i> being towed out to sea. I -had no need to look at her twice; I knew -every rope in her, and every patch of paint, -to say nothing of her masts being ranked a -little more than is usual nowadays. I had -no glass with me, but I fancied I could see a -patch of color on her poop that was Helen. -</p> - -<p> -I watched the vessel which had been my -home—and which, but for me, would have -been lying a wreck over yonder—for more -than an hour, and then I turned to go home, -if I can call an American hotel "home" by -strained politeness, and just then I saw a -carriage come along. Now, I knew as well -before I could distinguish them that Elsie, -Fanny, and her father were in that carriage, -as I did that Helen was on board the -<i>Vancouver</i>; and I sat down again feeling -very faint—I suppose from the effects of -my wound, or the illness that came from it. -The carriage had almost passed beneath me—and -I felt Elsie saw me, though she made -no sign—before Mr. Fleming caught sight of me. -</p> - -<p> -"Hi! stop!" he called, and the driver -drew up. "Why, Mr. Ticehurst, is that -you? I thought the <i>Vancouver</i> had gone? -Besides, how does a mate find time to be -out here? Things must have changed -since I was at sea. Come down! Come down!" -</p> - -<p> -I did so, and shook hands with them all, -though Elsie's hand lay in mine like a dead -thing until she drew it away. -</p> - -<p> -"The <i>Vancouver</i> has gone, Mr. Fleming," -said I; "and there she is—look!" -</p> - -<p> -They all turned, and Elsie kept her eyes -fixed on it when the others looked at me again. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Fleming, "what does it all -mean? Where are you going? Back to -town? That's right, get in!" And without -more ado the old man, who had the grip of -a vise, caught hold of me, and in I came like -a bale of cotton. "Drive on!" -</p> - -<p> -"Now then," he went on, "you can tell us -why you didn't go with them." -</p> - -<p> -I paused a minute, watching Elsie. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Mr. Fleming," I said at last, "you -see I didn't quite agree with my brother." -</p> - -<p> -"H'm!—calls taking the command from -the captain not quite agreeing with him," -chuckled Fleming; "but I thought you made -it up, didn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, we made it up, but I wouldn't sail -with him any more. I had more than one reason." -</p> - -<p> -Again I looked at Elsie, and she was, I -thought, a little pleasanter, though she did -not speak. But Fanny pinched her arm, I -could see that, and looked roguishly at me. -However, Mr. Fleming, did not notice that byplay. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he said, a trifle drily as I fancied, -"I won't put you through your catechism, -except to ask you in a fatherly kind of way" -(Elsie looked down and frowned) "what you -are going to do now. I should have thought -after what that rascal of a half-bred Malay, -or whatever he is, said, that you would have -left California in a hurry." -</p> - -<p> -"Time enough, Mr. Fleming—time enough. -I have eighteen months to look out on -without fear of a knife in my ribs, and I may be -in China, or Alaska, or the Rocky Mountains -then." -</p> - -<p> -You see I wanted to give them a hint that -I might turn up in British Columbia. Fanny -gave me a better chance though, and I could -have hugged her for it. -</p> - -<p> -"Or British Columbia perhaps, Mr. Ticehurst?" -she said smiling very innocently. -</p> - -<p> -"Who knows," I answered, hastily; "when -a man begins to travel, there is no knowing -where he may turn up. I had a fancy to go -to Alaska, though." -</p> - -<p> -For the way to Alaska was the way to -British Columbia, and I did not want to -surprise them too much if I went on the same -steamer as far as Victoria. And in four -days I might see what chance I really had -with Elsie. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said the father, thoughtfully, "I -don't know, and can't give advice. I should -have thought that when a man was a good -sailor and held your position he ought to stick -to it. A rolling stone gathers no moss." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I answered, "but I am tired of the sea." -</p> - -<p> -"So am I," said Fanny, "and I don't -blame you, though you ought to go with -careless captains just on purpose to save -people's lives, you know, Mr. Ticehurst; for -you saved ours, and I think some of us -might thank you better than by sitting like a -dry stick without saying a word." -</p> - -<p> -With this she dug at Elsie with her elbow, -smiling sweetly all the time. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Elsie, "and there is Mr. Harmer -now in the <i>Vancouver</i>. Perhaps -she will be wrecked." -</p> - -<p> -This was the first word she had spoken -since I had entered the carriage, and I -recognized by its spite that Elsie was a -woman not above having a little revenge. -For poor Fanny, who had flirted quite a -little with Harmer, said no more. -</p> - -<p> -They put down at their hotel, and I went -inside with them. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Fleming, "I suppose we -shan't see you again, unless you do as Fanny -says, and turn up in our new country. If -you do, be sure we shall welcome you. And -I wish you well, my boy." -</p> - -<p> -I shook hands with them again, and -turned away; and as I did so, I noticed -some of their boxes marked, "Per -SS. <i>Mexico</i>." Fanny saw me looking, and -whispered quickly, as she passed me, "Tom -Ticehurst, go to Mexico!" and vanished, -while Elsie stood in the gaslight for a -moment as if in indecision. But she turned -away. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART II. -<br /><br /> -SAN FRANCISCO AND NORTHWARD. -</h3> - -<p> -I never felt so miserable and so inclined -to go to sea to forget myself in hard work -as I did that evening after I had bidden -farewell to Elsie and her people. It seemed -to me that she had let me go too easily -out of her life for her to really care for me -enough to make her influence my course in -the way I had hoped, and hoped still. -Indeed, I think that if she had not stayed -that one undecided moment after she -withdrew her hand from mine, I should have -never done what I did do, but have looked -for a ship at once. For, after all, I said to -myself, what could a modest girl do more? -Why, under the circumstances, when she -thought me guilty of a deliberate crime, -hateful to any woman, to say nothing of my -having made love to her at the same time, it -was really more than I could have expected -or hoped. It showed that I had a hold upon -her affections; and then Fanny thought so -too, or she would have never said what she -did. "Go to Mexico!" indeed; if I wasn't -a fool, it was not Mexico the country, but -<i>Mexico</i> the steamer she meant. I had one -ally, at any rate. Still, I wondered if she -knew what Elsie did, though I thought not, -for she alone kissed Helen when they said -good-by, and Elsie had only given her her -hand unwillingly. If I could speak to -Fanny it might help me. But I was -determined to go northward, and sent my -dunnage down on board the steamer that -very evening. -</p> - -<p> -In the morning, and early, for I lay awake -all that night, a thing I did not remember -having done before, I went down on the -Front at the bottom of Market Street, where -all the tram cars start, and walked to and fro -for some hours along the wharves where they -discharge lumber, or ship the coal. It was -quite a bright morning in the late autumn, -and everything was pleasant to look upon in -the pure air before it was fouled by the oaths -of the drivers of wagons and the jar of traffic. -Yet that same noise, which came dimly to me -until I was almost run over by a loaded -wagon, pleased me a great deal better than -the earlier quiet of the morning, and by eight -o'clock I was in a healthy frame of mind, -healthy enough to help three men with a -heavy piece of lumber just by way of -exercise. I went back to my room, washed my -hands, had breakfast, and went on board the -steamer, careless if the Flemings saw me, -though at first I had determined to keep out -of their way until the vessel was at sea. I -thanked my stars that I did so, for I saw -Fanny by herself on deck, and when she -caught sight of me she clapped her hands and -smiled. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, and where are you going, Mr. Ticehurst?" -said she, nodding at me as if she -guessed my secret. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to take your advice and go to -Mexico!" I answered. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it far here? By land do you go, or water?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not far, Fanny; in fact——" -</p> - -<p> -"You are——" -</p> - -<p> -"There now!" said I, laughing in my turn. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am so glad, Mr. Ticehurst!" said -she; "for——" and then she stopped. -</p> - -<p> -"For what, Fanny?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm afraid I can't tell you. I should be a -traitor, and that is cowardly." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Fanny, not when we are friends. If -you tell me, would you do any harm?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," she answered doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Then treachery is meant to do harm, and -if you don't mean harm it isn't treachery," I -replied coaxingly, but with bad logic as I have -been told since. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, perhaps I'll say something. -Now suppose you liked me very much——" -</p> - -<p> -"So I do, Fanny, I swear!" -</p> - -<p> -"No you don't, stupid! How can you? -I'm not twins—that is, I and somebody else -aren't the same—so don't interrupt. -Suppose you liked me very much, and I liked -you very much——" -</p> - -<p> -"It would be very nice, I dare say," I said, -in a doubtful way that was neither diplomatic -nor complimentary. -</p> - -<p> -"And suppose you went off, and suppose I -didn't speak to my sister for hours, and kept -on being a nasty thing by tossing and tumbling -about all night, so that she, poor girl, -couldn't go to sleep; and then suppose when -she did go off nicely, she woke up to find -me—what do you think—crying, what would it mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Fanny," I exclaimed, in delight, "you -are a dear girl, the very dearest——" -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "no!" -</p> - -<p> -"That I ever saw. If there weren't so -many folks about, I would kiss you!" -</p> - -<p> -And I meant it, but Fanny burst into -laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"The idea! I should like to see you try it. -I would box your ears till they were as red -as beetroot. But there, Tom, I am glad you -are coming on this dirty steamer. For I -have no one to talk to now but Elsie, and -she won't talk at all." -</p> - -<p> -However, Fanny's little woes did not -trouble me much, for I was thinking of my -own, and wondering how I ought to act. -</p> - -<p> -"Fanny," said I, "tell me what I shall do. -Shall I lie low and not show up until we are -out at sea, or what?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you don't want them to see you, you -had better look sharp, for they are coming -up now, I see Elsie's hat," said Fanny. And -I dived out of sight round the deck house, -and by dint of skillful navigation I got into -my bunk without any one seeing me. -</p> - -<p> -Now, the way Elsie found out I was on -board was very curious, and perhaps more -pleasing to Fanny than to her. My bunk -was an upper one, and through the open -porthole I could look out on to the wharf. As I -lay there, in a much happier frame of mind -than I had known for many days, I stared -out carelessly, watching the men at work, -and the passers-by; and suddenly to my -great astonishment, I saw young Harmer -looking very miserable and unhappy. He -had left the <i>Vancouver</i>, too, but of course -without leave, as he was an apprentice. Now, -if I was surprised I was angry, too. It was -such a foolish trick, and I thought I would -give him a talking to at once. I spoke -through the port. -</p> - -<p> -"You infernal young fool!" said I, "what -are you doing here? Why did you leave -your ship?" -</p> - -<p> -If ever I saw a bewildered face it was -Harmer's. For some seconds he looked -everywhere for the voice, and could not locate it -either on the wharf, deck, or anywhere else. -</p> - -<p> -"You ought to be rope's-ended for an -idiot!" I went on, and then he saw part -of my face, but without knowing who I was. -He flushed crimson, and looked like a young -turkeycock, with his wings down and his tail up. -</p> - -<p> -"Who the devil are you, anyhow," he -asked fiercely. "You come out here and I'll -pull your ugly head off!" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," I answered calmly, "my -head is of more use to me than yours is, -apparently; and if you don't know my voice, -it belongs to Tom Ticehurst!" -</p> - -<p> -Harmer jumped. -</p> - -<p> -"Hurrah! Oh, I'm so glad. I was looking -for you, Mr. Ticehurst, and hunting everywhere." -</p> - -<p> -"And not for anyone else, I suppose?" I -put in, and then I saw him look up. I knew -just as well as he did that he saw Fanny, and -I hoped that Elsie was not with her. But -she was. -</p> - -<p> -"How d'ye do, Miss Fleming?" said he -nervously; "and you, Miss Fanny? I hope -you are well. I was just talking to Mr. Ticehurst." -</p> - -<p> -I swore a little at this, and tumbled out of -my bunk, and went on deck to face the music, -as the Americans say, and I got behind the -girls in time to hear the little hypocrite Fanny -say sweetly: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mr. Harmer, you must be mistaken, -I'm sure! Mr. Ticehurst if going to Mexico -or somewhere. He can't be here." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Fanny," said the boy earnestly, -"I tell you he is, and there—just behind -you. By Jove, I am coming on board!" -</p> - -<p> -And he scrambled up the side like a -monkey, as Elsie turned and saw me. -</p> - -<p> -I said good-morning to her and we shook -hands. I could see she was nervous, and -fancied I could see traces of what Fanny, -who talked hard, had told me. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear me, Mr. Ticehurst!" said Fanny -vigorously. "You didn't shake hands with -me, and see the time it is since we last met! -Why, was it yesterday, or when? But men -are so forgetful. I never did like boys -when I was a little girl, and I shall keep -it up. Yes, Mr. Harmer, now I can shake -hands, for not having arms ten feet long I -couldn't reach yours over the rail, though -you did hold them out like a signal post." -</p> - -<p> -Then she and Harmer talked, and I lost -what they said. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is your father, Miss Fleming?" -I asked, for though I felt obliged to talk, -I could say nothing but that unless I -remarked it was a fine day. But it had been -fine for six months in California. -</p> - -<p> -"He went ashore, Mr. Ticehurst, and won't -be back until the steamer is nearly ready to -go. But now I must go down. Come, -Fanny!" -</p> - -<p> -"What for?" demanded that young lady. -"I'm not coming, I shall stay; I like the -deck, and hate the cabin—misty stuffy hole! -I shall not go down; as the pilot told the -man in the stupid song: 'I shall pace the -deck with thee,' Mr. Ticehurst, please." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Fanny," said I; "but I -want to talk to Harmer here before the -steamer goes, and if you will go with your -sister perhaps it will be best." -</p> - -<p> -She pouted and looked about her, and -with a parting smile for Harmer, and a -mouth for me, she followed Elsie. I turned -to the lad. -</p> - -<p> -"Now," I began, "you're a nice boy! -What does it all mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"It means that I couldn't stay on the -<i>Vancouver</i> if you weren't there, Mr. Ticehurst. -I made up my mind to that the moment -I heard you were leaving. I will go -on your next ship; but you know, if you -don't mind my saying it, I couldn't stand -your brother; I would rather be struck by you -than called a cub by him. A 'cub,' indeed—I -am as big as he is, and bigger!" -</p> - -<p> -So he was, and a fine handsome lad into -the bargain, with curly brown hair, though -his features were a little too feminine for his -size and strength. -</p> - -<p> -"Harmer," I said drily "I think you have -done it now very completely. This is my -next ship, and I am a passenger in her." -</p> - -<p> -He didn't seem to mind; in fact, he took it -so coolly that I began to think he knew. -</p> - -<p> -"That doesn't matter, Mr. Ticehurst," he -said cheerfully; "I will come with you." -</p> - -<p> -I stared. -</p> - -<p> -"The devil you will! Do you know -where I am going, what I am going to do?—or -have you any plans of your own cut and -dried for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see that it matters, Mr. Ticehurst," -he answered, with a coolness I -admired; "I have more than enough to pay -my fare, and if you go to British Columbia -I dare say I can get something to do there." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah? I see," I replied; "you are tired of -the sea, and would like to marry and settle -down, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me, and blushed a little. -</p> - -<p> -"All the more reason I should go with -you, sir; for then—then—there would be—you know." -</p> - -<p> -"What, Harmer?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"A pair of us," he answered humbly. -</p> - -<p> -"H'm, you are a nice boy? What will -your father say if he hears you have gone off -in this way?" -</p> - -<p> -Harmer looked at me and laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"He will say it was your fault, sir! -But I had better get my dunnage on board." -</p> - -<p> -And away he went. -</p> - -<p> -"Harmer, come back!" I cried, but he -only turned, nodded cheerfully, and -disappeared in the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -On the whole, although the appearance of -Harmer added a new responsibility to those -which were already a sufficient burden, I -was not ill-pleased, for I thoroughly liked -him, and had parted with him very unwillingly -when I shook his hand on board the -<i>Vancouver</i> for the last time, as I thought -then. At any rate, he would be a companion -for me, and if by having to look after him I -was prevented in any measure from becoming -selfish about Elsie, I might thank his boyish -foolishness in being unable to prevent -himself running after Fanny, whom, to say the -truth, I considered a little flirt, though a dear -little girl. And, then, Harmer might be able -to help me with Elsie. It was something to -have somebody about that I could trust in -case of accident. -</p> - -<p> -It was nearer eleven than ten when the -steamer's whistle shrieked for the last time, -and the crew began to haul the warps on -board. I could see that Elsie and Fanny -were beginning to think that their father -would arrive too late, when I saw him coming -along the wharf with Harmer just behind -him. Up to this time I really believed -Mr. Fleming, with the curious innocence that -fathers often show, even those who from their -antecedents and character might be expected -to know better, had never thought of me as -being his daughter's lover; but when he had -joined his daughters on the hurricane deck, -and caught sight of Harmer and myself -standing on the main, I saw in a moment -that he knew almost as much as we could tell -him, and that for a few seconds he was doubtful -whether to laugh or to be angry. I saw -him look at me sternly for a few seconds, -then he shook his head with a very -mixed smile on his weather-beaten face, and, -sitting down on the nearest beach, he burst -into laughter. I went up the poop ladder -and caught Fanny's words: -</p> - -<p> -"Why, father, what is the matter with -you? Don't laugh so, all the people will -think you crazy?" -</p> - -<p> -"So I am, my dear, clean crazy," he -answered; "because I fancied I saw Tom -Ticehurst and young Harmer down on deck there, -and of course it is impossible, I know that—quite -impossible. It was an hallucination. -For what could they want here, I should like -to know? You don't know, of course? -Well, well, I am surprised!" -</p> - -<p> -Just then I came up and showed myself, -looking quite easy, though I confess to -feeling more like a fool than I remember doing -since I was a boy. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, then you are here, Ticehurst?" said -the old man. "It wasn't a vision, after all. -I was just telling Fanny here that I thought -I was going off my head." -</p> - -<p> -I laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr. Fleming," I said, "is it -impossible that I, too, should go to Victoria, on -my way to Alaska?" -</p> - -<p> -Fleming looked at me curiously, and almost -winked. "Ah! Alaska, to be sure," -said he. "You did speak of Alaska. It -must be a nice place. You will be quite -close to us. Come over and give us a call." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you for the invitation," I replied, -laughing. "I will come to tea, and bring my -young friend with me." -</p> - -<p> -For Harmer now walked up, shook hands -with the old man in the most ordinary way, -and sat down between him and Fanny with -a coolness I could not have imitated for my -life. It is a strange thing to think of the -amount of impudence boys have from -seventeen to twenty-three or so; they will do -things a man of thirty would almost faint to -attempt, and succeed because they don't -know the risk they run. Harmer was soon -engaged in talk with Fanny, and I tried in -vain to imitate him. I found Elsie as cold -as ice; I could make no impression on her -and was almost in despair at the very outset. -If Fanny had told me the truth in the -morning, then Elsie held a great command over -herself. I soon gave up the attack and -retreated to my berth, where I smoked -savagely and was miserable. You can see I did -not understand much about women then. -</p> - -<p> -The passage from San Francisco to Victoria -takes about four days, and in that time -I had to make up my mind what I was -going to do. If what Fanny said were true, -Elsie loved me, and it was only that foolish -and wretched affair with Helen that stood in -my way. Yet, could I tell the girl how -matters were? It seemed to me then, and -seems to me now, that I was bound in honor -not to tell her. I could not say to her -brutally that my brother's wife had made love to -me, and that I was wholly blameless. It -would be cowardly, and yet I ought to clear -myself. It was an awkward dilemma. -Then, again, it was quite possible that Fanny -was mistaken; if she did not care for me, it -was all the harder, and I could not court her -with that mark against me. Yet I was -determined to win her, and as I sat in my -berth I grew fierce and savage in my heart. -I swore that I would gain her over, I would -force her to love me, if I had to kill any who -stood in my way. For love makes a man -devilish sometimes as well as good. I had -come on board saying, "If I see no chance -to win her before I get to Victoria, I will -let her go." And now when we were just -outside the Golden Gate, I swore to follow her -always. "Yes, even if she spurns me, if -she mocks, taunts me, I will make her -come to me at last, put her arms round my -neck, and ask my forgiveness." I said this, -and unconsciously I added, "I will follow -her night and day, in sunshine and in rain, in -health or sickness." -</p> - -<p> -Then I started violently, for I was using -words like those of the Malay, who was -waiting his time to follow me, and for ever -in the daytime or nighttime I knew he was -whetting the keen edge of his hate. I could -see him in his cell; I could imagine him -recalling my face to mind, for I knew what -such men are. I had served as second mate -in a vessel that had been manned with -Orientals and the off-scourings of Singapore, -such as Matthias was, and I knew them only -too well. He would follow me, even as I -followed her, and as she was a light before -me, he would be a dark shadow behind me. -I wished then that I had killed him on board -the <i>Vancouver</i>, for I felt that we should one -day meet; and who could discern what our -meeting would bring forth in our lives? I -know that from that time forward he never -left me, for in the hour that I vowed to -follow Elsie until she loved me, I saw very -clearly that he would keep his word, though -he had but strength to crawl after me and -kill me as I slept. Henceforth, he was -always more or less in my mind. Yet, if I -could win Elsie first, I did not care. It -might be a race between us, and her love -might be a shield to protect me in my hour -of need. I prayed that it might be so, -and if it could not, then at least let me -win her love before the end. -</p> - -<p> -For two days I kept out of the Flemings' -way, or rather out of the way of the girls, -for Mr. Fleming himself could not be -avoided, as he slept in the men's berth in a -bunk close to mine. I believe that the first -day on board he spoke to Elsie about me; -indeed I know he did, for I heard so -afterward; and I think it was only on her -assurance that there was and could be -nothing between us, that he endured the -situation so easily. In the first place, -although he was not rich, he was fairly -well off in Australia; and though the -British Columbian ranch property was -not equal in value to that which he had -made for himself, yet it represented a sum -of money such as I could not scarcely make -in many years in these hard times. It would -hardly be human nature for a father to look -upon me as the right sort of man for his -daughter, especially since I was such a fool -as to quit the sea without anything definite -awaiting me on land. So, I say, that if he -had thought that Elsie loved me I might -have found him a disagreeable companion, -and it was no consolation to me to see that -he treated me in a sort of half-contemptuous, -half-pitying way, for I would rather have -seen him like one of the lizards on the -Australian plains, such as the girls had -told me of, which erect a spiny frill over -their heads, and swell themselves out the -whole length of their body until their -natural ugliness becomes a very horror and -scares anything which has the curiosity -or rashness to approach and threaten them. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you going to do in Alaska or -British Columbia, Tom?" said he to me one -day. "Do you think of farming, or -seal-hunting, or gold-mining, or what? I -should like to hear your plans, if you have -any." And then he went on without waiting -for an answer, showing plainly that he -thought that I had none, and was a fool. -"And that young idiot Harmer, why -didn't he stick to his ship?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because he will never stick to anything, -Mr. Fleming," I answered, "though he is a -clever young fellow, and fit for other things -than sailoring, if I'm a judge. But as for -myself I don't think I am, and yet when I -make up my mind to a thing, I usually do it." -</p> - -<p> -"You usually succeed, then?" said he, -with a hard smile. "It is well to have -belief in one's own strength and abilities. -But sometimes others have strength as well, -and then"—— -</p> - -<p> -"And then," I answered, "it is very often -a question of will." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled again and dropped the subject. -</p> - -<p> -On the third day out from San Francisco, -when we were running along the coast of -Oregon, I found at last an opportunity of -speaking to Elsie. I first went to Fanny. -</p> - -<p> -"Fanny, my dear girl, I want to speak -to you a few minutes." I sat down beside her. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you know, Fanny, why I am -here, don't you?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is tolerably obvious, Mr. Ticehurst," -she answered rather gravely, I thought. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I suppose it is; but first I want -to be sure whether you were right about -what you told me on the morning we left -San Francisco." -</p> - -<p> -I was silent, and looked at her. She -seemed a trifle distressed. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Tom, I thought that I was," she -answered at length; "and I still think I -am—and yet I don't know. You see, Elsie is a -strange girl, and never confides in anyone -since dear mother died, and she would never -confess anything to me. Still, I have eyes -in my head, and ears too. But since you -have been with us she has been harder and -colder than I ever saw her in all my life, and -she has said enough to make me think that -there is something that I know nothing about -which makes her so. You know, I joked her -about you yesterday, and she got so angry -all of a sudden, like pouring kerosene on a -fire, and she said you were a coward. When -I asked her why, she turned white and -wouldn't answer. Then I said of course you -must be a coward if she said so, but I didn't -think she had any right to say it or think it -when you had saved all our lives by your -coolness and courage. And then, you know, -I got angry and cried, because I like you -very much, just as much as I do my brother -on the station at home. And I said she was -a cruel beast, and all kinds of horrid things, -until I couldn't think of anything but making -faces at her, just as I did when I was a child. -And we are having a quarrel now, and it is -all about you—you ought to be proud." And -Fanny looked up half laughing and half -crying, for she dearly loved Elsie, as I knew. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my dear little sister Fanny," I said, -"for you shall be my sister one day, there is -something that makes her think ill of me, -but it is not my fault, as far as I can see. -And I can't convince her of that, except by -showing her that I am not the man she -thinks, unless some accident puts me back -into the place I once believed I held in her -thoughts. But I want to speak to her, and I -must do it to-day. To-morrow we shall be -in Victoria, and I should not like to part -with her without speaking. If I talk with -her now, it will probably take some time, so -I want you, if you can, to prevent anyone -interrupting us." -</p> - -<p> -Fanny nodded, and wiped away a tear -in a quick manner, just as if it were a fly. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, I will. You know I trust -you, if Elsie doesn't." And she went over -to Harmer, who was in a fidget, and kept -looking at me as if he was wondering what I -meant by talking so confidentially to Fanny. -</p> - -<p> -I found Elsie sitting by herself just -forward of the funnel. She was reading, and -though when I spoke she answered and put -the book down in her lap, she kept looking -at it in a nervous way, as if she wished I had -not interrupted her; and we had been talking -some minutes before she seemed to wholly -forget that it was there. -</p> - -<p> -I spoke without any thought of what I -was going to say. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Fleming (see, I call you that, though -a little while ago it was Elsie), I have -determined to speak to you in spite of the way -you avoid me." -</p> - -<p> -"I would rather you did not, Mr. Ticehurst," -she said. -</p> - -<p> -"It has come to a time when I must do as -I think fit, even if I am rude and rough. I -have something to say, and mean to say it, -Miss Fleming; and if I word it in rough or -broken fashion, if I stumble over it or -stammer with my tongue, you will know why, -just as you know why I am here. Come -now, why am I on this steamer?" -</p> - -<p> -She remained mute, with her head bent -down, and the gold of her hair loose over her -eyes, so that I could not see them. But she -trembled a little, and was ripping one of the -pages of her book. I took hold of it and put -it down. She made no remonstrance, and I -began to feel that I had power over her, -though how far it went I could not tell. -</p> - -<p> -"Why am I here?" I went on scornfully. -"Oh, on a pleasure trip to see the advertised -coast from San Francisco to Sitka, to behold -Mount Elias and its glaciers! By Heavens, -I think I have ice nearer at hand! Oh, it is -business? I wish to gain wealth, so I give -up what I understand, and go into what is as -familiar to me as a sextant is to a savage! -It can't be business. Do you know what it -is, Miss Fleming? Look, I think there was -a girl who I knew once, but she was a kind, -bright girl, who was joyous, whom I called -by her Christian name, who walked by my -side in the moonlight, when the sails were -silvered and their shadows dark, when I kept -the first watch in the <i>Vancouver</i>. I wonder -what has become of her? That girl would -have known, but——" -</p> - -<p> -I stopped, and she was still stubborn. -But she did not move. I went on again: -</p> - -<p> -"There must be evil spirits on the sea that -fly like petrels in the storm, and come on -board ship and enter into the hearts of those -they find there. Why——" -</p> - -<p> -"I fear, Mr. Ticehurst," she interrupted, -"that you think me a fool. If I am not, -then your talk is vain; and if I am, I surely -am not fit to mate with you. Let us cease to -talk about this, for it is useless!" -</p> - -<p> -I was almost choking with passion; it was -so hard to be misconceived, even though she -had so much reason on her side. Yet, since -I knew she was wrong, I almost wished to -shake her. -</p> - -<p> -"No!" I said at last, "I will not go until -I have an understanding one way or the -other. We have been beating about the -bush, but I will do it no longer. You know -that I love you!" -</p> - -<p> -She drew herself up. -</p> - -<p> -"How many can you love at a time, -Mr. Ticehurst?" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"One, only one," I replied. "You are -utterly mistaken." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not mistaken!" she said; "and I -think you are a coward and a traitor. If -you were not, I might love you; but as you -are, such a thing is impossible." -</p> - -<p> -I caught her by the wrist. Instinctively -she tried to free herself, but finding she -could not, looked up. When she caught my -eye, her indignant remonstrance died on her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Look you, Elsie, what can I do? -Perhaps I cannot defend myself; there are -some situations where a man cannot for the -sake of others. I can say no more about -that. And I will make you see you are -wrong, if not by proof, by showing you -what I am—a man incapable of what you -think me—and in the end I will make you -love me." I paused for a moment, but she -did not move. -</p> - -<p> -"You have listened to me; Elsie, and you -can see what I mean, you can think whether -I shall falter or swerve; and now I ask you, -for I am assured you do love me, or that you -did, whether you will not trust me now? -For you cannot believe that I could speak -as I do if I had done what you think." -</p> - -<p> -I looked at Elsie, and she was very pale. -I could see that I had moved her, had -shaken her conviction, that she was at war -with herself. I got up, went to the side, -and then turned, beckoning to her to look -over to seaward with me. She came almost -like a woman walking in her sleep, and took -a place by my side. I did so to avoid -notice, for I feared to attract attention; -indeed, I saw two passengers looking at us -curiously, one of whom smiled so that I -began to wish to throw him overboard. Yet -I think, as a matter of fact, I did wrong in -allowing her to move; it broke the influence -I held over her in a measure, for I have -often noticed since that to obtain control of -some people one should keep steadily -insisting on the one point, and never allow -them to go beyond, or even to think beyond -it. But then to do so one must be stronger -than I was, or he will lose control over -himself, as I did, and so make errors in -judgment. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie," I said quietly, "are you not -going to answer me? Or am I not worth it?" -</p> - -<p> -Now, up to this moment I had taken her -away from the past; in her emotion she had -almost forgotten Helen; she was just wavering -and was on the point of giving in to me. -Yet by that last suggestion of mine I -brought it back to her. I could see in her -mind the darker depths of her fear and -distrust of me, and what I rightly judged -her hatred and jealousy of Helen. Though I -do not think I know much of character, yet in -the state of mind that I was in then I seemed -to see her mind, as a much more subtle man -might have done, and my own error. I could -have cursed my own folly. She had taken -the book again, and was holding it open in -her hand. Until I spoke she held it so -lightly that it shook and wavered, but she -caught it in both hands and shut it suddenly, -as though it was the book of her heart that -I had been reading, and she denied my right -to do it. And she turned toward me cold -once more, though by a strange influence she -caught my thought. -</p> - -<p> -"This is a closed book, Mr. Ticehurst. It -is the book of the past, and—it is gone for -ever." She dropped it over the side with a -mocking smile. But I caught hold of her -hand and held it. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said I, "then we begin again. If -the past is dead, the present lives, and the -future is yet unborn. You mean one thing -now, and I mean the other; but in the -future we shall both mean the same. -Remember what I say, Elsie—remember it. -For unless I am dead, I will be your -acknowledged lover and your husband at last." -</p> - -<p> -I dropped her hand and walked away, and -when I looked back I saw her following me -with her eyes. I would have given much -then to have been able to know of what she -thought. I went below and slept for many -hours a sleep of exhaustion, for though a -man may be as strong as a lion physically, an -excess of emotion takes more from him than -the most terrible physical toil. -</p> - -<p> -The next morning we were in Victoria, and -I neither had, nor did I seek, an opportunity -of again speaking with Elsie. But I did talk -for a few moments with Fanny. I told her -some part of what occurred, but not much. -She said as much: -</p> - -<p> -"You are keeping something back, Tom. -I think you know some reason why Elsie -won't have anything to do with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do, Fanny," I replied: "but there is -nothing in it at all, and one of these days she -will discover it." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope so," said she, a little dryly for so -young a girl; "but Elsie is a little obstinate, -and I have seen horses that would not jump a -gate. You may have to open it yet, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -"It may open of it itself, Fanny, or the -horse may desire the grass and jump at last; -but I will never open it myself." -</p> - -<p> -And I shook hands with her and Mr. Fleming. -I took off my hat to Elsie, but -said in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -"Remember what I said, Elsie, for I shall -never forget." And then she turned away; -but did not look back this time, as she had -done when we parted in the hotel. Yet -such is the curious state a lover is in that I -actually comforted myself that she did not, -for if she had, I said, it would have showed -she was callous and cold. Perhaps, though -she kept command over herself just for the -time, it failed her at the last, and she would -not let me see it. -</p> - -<p> -When they were gone, Harmer and I went -ashore too. As to the boy, he was so -desperately in love—calf-love—that I had to -cheer him up, and the way I did it makes me -laugh now, for I have a larger experience of -boys and men than I had then. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind, Harmer," said I, "you will -get over this in no time—see if you don't." -</p> - -<p> -He turned round in a blazing rage, and I -think if it had not been for the effects of the -old discipline, which was yet strong upon -him, he would have sworn at me; for -although Harmer looked as if butter wouldn't -melt in his mouth, I knew he had a very -copious vocabulary of abuse at his command, -such as one learns only too easily at sea. -</p> - -<p> -"What, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said stammering. -"Get over it? I never shall, and I -don't want to, and, what's more, I wouldn't -if I could! It's not kind of you to say so, -and I think—I think——" -</p> - -<p> -"What, Jack?" said I, thunderstruck at -this outburst, when I meant consolation. -</p> - -<p> -"That you'll get over it first. There -now!" said he, triumphant with this retort -I burst into laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"Well—well, Harmer, I didn't mean to -vex you. We must not quarrel now, for -Jordan's a hard road to travel, I believe, and -you and I have got to make lots of money; -at least you have; if we are going to do -anything in this country. For it's what the -Yankees call a tough place." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," replied Harmer, now ashamed of -of being angry. "I heard one fellow say to -another on the steamer, 'You goldarned -fellers from the East think you're going to -get a soft seat over here, but you bet you'll -have to rustle on the Pacific Slope or else -git!' And then he turned to me. 'D'ye -hear that, young feller?—you've got to rustle -right smart, or you'll get left.'" -</p> - -<p> -And Jack laughed heartily trying to imitate -the accent of his adviser, but he found it -hard to disguise his own pure English, learnt -in a home far across the seas and the wide -stretch of the American Continent. -</p> - -<p> -That night we stayed in Victoria in a rough -hotel kept by two brothers, Cornishmen, who -invited us both to have drinks on the strength -of our all being Englishman, though I should -never have suspected that they were such, so -well did their accent disguise the truth from -me. And in the morning, two days after, we -went on board the <i>Western Slope</i> bound for -New Westminster, on the mainland of British -Columbia, whither the Flemings had preceded us. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART III. -<br /><br /> -A GOLDEN LINK. -</h3> - -<p> -What I have just written is but the -connecting link between two series of -events—the hyphen between two words; -and I shall not try to hurry on to the strange -drama of a few days to which all that precedes -it has been but the inevitable prologue, -without which there were no clear understanding -of its incidents. I am going, therefore, -to dispose of a whole year's events in a -few words, though much occurred in that -time which might be worth relating, if I -were a professional writer, able to make -things interesting to all, or if I had the -faculty of making word-pictures of places -and scenes which stand out clearly before -me whenever I reflect, and the full times of -the past come up for review. -</p> - -<p> -What Jack Harmer and I did for that -year truly would take ten times the space I -have allowed myself, and have been allowed, -and I shall say but little now if I can only -dispose of that twelve months in a way that -places my readers in a position to clearly -understand what passed in the thirteenth -month after I had landed in British Columbia. -</p> - -<p> -Now on our landing we had but £40 -between us, and I was the possessor of nearly -all that amount, about two hundred dollars -in American currency. It is true I had a -hundred and fifty pounds in England, which -I had sent for, and Harmer had quite coolly -asked his father for fifty, which I may state -here he did <i>not</i> get in a letter which advised -him to return to England, and go in for -something worth having before it was too late. -</p> - -<p> -"He means the Civil Service, I know," -said Jack, when he read the letter; "and I -hate the notion. They are all fossils in it, -and if they have brains to start with, they -rarely keep them—why should they? -They're not half as much use as a friend at -court." -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps he was right, yet I advised him -to take his father's advice, and he took -neither his nor mine, but stuck to me -persistently with a devotion that pleased and -yet annoyed me. For I desired a free hand, -and with him I could not get it. I had some -idea of going in for farming when I landed. -I would get a farm near Elsie's father, and -stay there. But I found I hadn't sufficient -money, or anything like sufficient, to buy -land near Thomson Forks. So I looked -round, and, in looking round, spent money. -Finally, I got Harmer something to do in a -sawmill on Burrard's Inlet, a position which -give him sufficient to live on, but very little -more; and yet he had not to work very hard, -in fact he tallied the lumber into the ships -loading in the Inlet for China and Australia, and -wrote to me that he liked his job reasonably -well, though he was grieved to be away -from me. As for myself, I went up to -Thomson Forks, looked round me there, -and at the hotel fell in with a man named -Mackintosh, an American from Michigan, a -great strong fellow, with a long red beard, -and an eye like an eagle's, who was going -up in the Big Bend gold-hunting, prospecting -as they call it. I told him, after we got -into conversation, that I wanted to go farming. -</p> - -<p> -He snorted scornfully, and immediately -began to dilate on gold-mining and all the -chances a man had who possessed the grit to -tackle it. And as I knew I really had too -little money to farm with, it wasn't long -before he persuaded me to be his partner and -go with him. For I liked him at once, and -was feeling so out in the cold that I was -glad to chum with anyone who looked like -knowing his way about. We were soon in -the thick of planning our campaign, and Mac -got very fluent and ornamental in his -language as he drank and talked. However, I -did not mind that much, although his -blasphemy was British Columbian, and rather -worse than that in use on board ship. Yet -people do not think the sea a mean school of -cursing. Presently, as I turned round at the -bar, I saw Mr. Fleming, who did not notice -me until I spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-morning, Mr. Fleming," I said; -"will you drink with me?" -</p> - -<p> -He turned round sharply at the sound -of my voice, and then shook my hand, -half doubtfully at first, and then more -heartily. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Ticehurst," he said at last, "I am -glad to see you, after all. Hang it, I am! for" -(here he lowered his voice to a whisper) -"I don't care about the style of this place -after New South Wales. They nearly all -carry revolvers here, damn it! as if they -were police; and last time I came in, my -man and another fellow fought, and Siwash -Jim (that's what they call him) tried to -gouge out the other chap's eyes. And when -I pulled him off, the other men growled about -my spoiling a fight. What do you think of -that?" -</p> - -<p> -And the old man stared at me inquiringly, -and then laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Wish I could ask you over to the Creek, -but I can't, and you know why. Take my -advice and go back to sea. Now, look here, -let's speak plain. I know you want Elsie; -but it's a mistake, my boy. She didn't care -for you; and I know her, she's just like her -mother, the obstinatest woman you ever saw -when she made up her mind. I wouldn't -mind much if she did care for you, though -perhaps you aint so rich as you ought to be, -Tom. But then my wife had more money -than I had by a long sight, so I don't care -for that. But seeing that Elsie doesn't want -you, what's the use? Take my advice and -go to sea again." -</p> - -<p> -Here he stopped and gave me the first -chance of speaking I had had since I -accosted him. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Mr. Fleming," I said firmly; -"but I can't go back yet. I am glad you -have no great objection to me yourself, but -I believe that Elsie hasn't either, and I'm -bound to prove it; and I will." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you know best," he replied. "But -mind your eye, old boy, when your friend the -Malay comes out. I shouldn't like to be on -the same continent with him, if I were you." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't like being either," I said. "But -then it shows how fixed I am on one object. -And I shall not go, even if he were to find -out where I am. For I might have to kill -him. Yet I don't see how he can find out. -Nobody knows or will know, except my -brother, and he won't tell him." -</p> - -<p> -Fleming shrugged his shoulders and -dropped the subject to take up his own -affairs. -</p> - -<p> -"Damn this country, my boy! give me a -plain where I can see a few miles. On my -soul, this place chokes me; I can't look out -five hundred yards for some thundering old -mountain! At the Creek there are hills at -the back, at the front, and on both sides, and -nearly all are chokeful of trees, so that -riding after the cattle is worse than going after -scrub cattle in Australia. I can't get the -hang of the place at all, and though I am -supposed to own nearly two hundred head of -cattle, I can't muster seventy-five on my own -place. Some are up at Spullamacheen, some -on the Nicola, and others over at the Kettle -River on the border, for all I know. And -the place is full of cañons, as they call -gulches in this place; and thundering holes -they are, two hundred feet deep, with a -roaring stream at the bottom. The Black -Cañon at the back of my place gives me the -shivers. I am like a horse bred on the -plains; when it gets on the mountains it is -all abroad, and shivers at the sight of a -sharp slope. I reckon I can ride on the -flat, old as I am, but here, if it wasn't for my -scoundrel Siwash Jim, who says he knows -the country like a book, I shouldn't know -where to go or what to do. Here he comes, -the vagabond!" -</p> - -<p> -I had learnt by this time that Siwash -means Indian, for in that country they say -Siwashes instead of Indians, so I thought -Jim was one of the natives. However, I -saw at once he wasn't, for though he was -dark, his features were pure white. He had -earned his nickname by living with the -Indians for so many years that he was more -at home with them than with white people, -and he had acquired all their vices as well -as a goodly stock of his own, probably -inherited. He was a slightly built man of -about forty, with a low forehead, a sharp -aquiline nose, and no lips to speak of; his -mustache was short, and a mere line; his -teeth were black with smoking and chewing; -his legs bowed with continual riding. He -wore mocassins, and kept his hair long. He -was more than half intoxicated when he -came in, carrying a stock-whip coiled round -his neck. He did not speak, but drank -stolidly; and when he looked at me, I -fancied it was with an air of dislike, as -though he had read my thoughts and knew -how I regarded him. -</p> - -<p> -I drew Fleming aside. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't like him," said I; "and wouldn't -trust him farther than I could swing a bull -by the tail. Do the girls like him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Like him!" repeated Fleming, "they -hate him, and want me to give him the -bounce, as they say here. Elsie says he -looks like a murderer, and Fanny that he is -uglier than a Murrumbidgee black fellow. -But then he knows the country and does his -work, and don't want to go. I don't care -much either way, for when I can get all the -cattle together and put the place in order I -shall sell out and go back. Stay in British -Columbia—no, sir, I won't! not if they make -me Governor. I tell you I like to be where -I can see ten miles. Then I can breathe. I -can go out at home and see all my station -and almost count the sheep and cattle from -my door; and here I have to ride up and -ride down, and I never know where I am. -I'm going back just as soon as I can." -</p> - -<p> -And he went away then without asking -where I was going or whether I was doing -anything. Next morning I jumped on board -the steamer with Mac and started for the -head of the Shushwap Lakes. Thence we -went into the Big Bend, and though we -never made the millions Mac was always -prophesying about and hungering for, our -summer's work was not wasted. For before -the season was over we had struck a rich -pocket and made about four thousand dollars -a piece. -</p> - -<p> -Of course I wanted to up stick and go -back as soon as I had as much as that, but -Mac would not hear of it. -</p> - -<p> -"No, Tom—no," said he; "there's more -here yet." -</p> - -<p> -And he eyed me so entreatingly that I -caved in and promised to remain with him -prospecting, at any rate till the first snow. -</p> - -<p> -But a week after making that agreement -we both went down to the Columbia for -more provisions. Finding none there, we had -to make the farther journey to the Landing. -There I found a letter waiting for me from -Harmer, saying that he was tired of the -sawmill on the Inlet, and wanted to join me. I -wrote back requesting him to be good -enough to stay where he was, but, to console -him, promised that if I saw any chance of his -doing better with me I would send for him. -He asked rather timidly for news of Fanny. -How could I give him news when I knew -nothing of Elsie? Yet the simple mention -of the girl's name again made me anxious to -get back to the Forks, and if one of the -steamers had come up the lake I think I -should have deserted Mac in spite of my -promise. Yet we had only brought down -half the gold that trip, perhaps because my -partner had made a calculation as to what I -might do, having it on me, if we got within -reach of some kind of civilization, and I -thought it best to secure the rest while I -could, though I thoroughly trusted Mac. At -the same time that I answered Harmer's -letter I wrote one to my brother, telling -him both what I had done and what I -proposed doing later on. And I begged him to -be careful, if he should be in San Francisco -then, of the Malay when his time was up. -For although his chief spite was against me, -yet Will was my brother, and I well remembered -the look that he had cast on him when -he was kicked in the struggle between Will -and myself. -</p> - -<p> -The rest of the summer—and a beautiful -season it was in the wooded mountains—was -spent in very unsuccessful prospecting. For -one thing, after our success Mac had taken to -prospecting for pockets; and if gold-mining -be like gambling as a general rule, that is -almost pure chance. Once or twice he was -in high spirits at good indications, but on -following them up we were invariably -disappointed, and we had to start again. -August and September passed, and the -higher summits above us were already white -with snow, which fell on us in the lower -valleys as rain. In October there was a -cessation of bad weather for a time, and Mac -promised himself a long fall season, but at -the end of it we woke one morning to find a -foot of snow on our very camping ground. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall have to get up and get," said I -cheerfully, for I was glad of it. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no!" said Mac; "this is nothing. -It will all go again by to-morrow; there will -be nothing to stop us from another week or -two. Besides, yesterday I had a notion that -I saw something. I didn't tell you, but I -found another bit of quartz—aye, richer than -the piece I showed you at the Forks, Tom, -and we've got to find out where it comes from." -</p> - -<p> -I groaned, but, in spite of argument, there -was no moving him; and though I was -angry enough to have gone off by myself, -yet knowing neither the trail nor the country -well, I had no desire to get lost in the -mountains, which would most assuredly have -meant death to me. However, I still remonstrated, -and at last got him to fix ten days as -the very longest time he would remain: I -was obliged to be content with that. -</p> - -<p> -But Mac was sorry before the hour -appointed for our departure that he had not -taken my advice, "tenderfoot" and -Englishman though I was. On the evening of the -eighth day the temperature, which had up to -that time been fairly warm in spite of our -altitude and the advanced season, fell -suddenly, and it became bitterly cold. Our -ponies, who had managed to pick up a fair -living on the plateau where our camp stood, -and along the creek bottoms, came right up -to our tent, and one of them put his head -inside. "Dick," as we called him, was a much -gentler animal than most British Columbian -cayuses, and had made a friend of me, -coming once a day at least for me to give him a -piece of bread, of which he had grown fond, -though at first he was as strange with it as a -young foal with oats. I put up my hand -and touched his nose, which was soft and -silky, while the rest of his coat was long and -rough. He whinnied gently, and I found a -crust for him, and then gently repulsing him, -I fastened the fly of the tent. Mac was fast -asleep under his dark blankets, whence there -came sudden snorts like those a bear makes -in his covert, or low rumblings like thunder -from a thick cloud. -</p> - -<p> -But it was he who woke me in the -morning, and he did it without ceremony. -</p> - -<p> -"Get up, old man!" he said hurriedly, -while he was jamming himself, as it were, -into his garments. "The snow's come at -last—and, by thunder, it's come to stay! -There's no time to be lost!" And he -vanished into the white space outside. -</p> - -<p> -When I followed I found him already at -work packing the ponies, and without any -words I set to, struck the tent, rolled it up, -and got together everything I thought -should go. When I touched the tools Mac -turned round. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave 'em, pard—leave 'em. There's -plenty of weight without that. Aye, -plenty—and too much!" -</p> - -<p> -The last I only just caught, for it was said -to himself. In half an hour we were off, -leaving behind us nearly three weeks' -provisions, all the tools but two light -shovels, and what remained after our -working the quartz. -</p> - -<p> -"It's worth a thousand dollars," said Mac, -regretfully, "but without a proper crusher -it's only tailings." -</p> - -<p> -We moved off camp, Mac first, leading -the nameless pony, which was the stronger -of the two, and I following with Dick. -</p> - -<p> -The snow was two feet deep in many -parts, and in some drifts much more than -that. Fortunately, the trail was for its -greater length well sheltered, both by -overhanging rocks and big trees, spruce, -cedar, hemlock, and pine, which helped to -keep it clear; but it was evident to me by -the way the ponies traveled, and the labor -it was for me to get along with no other -burden than the shovel, from which I -sometimes used to free Dick, that another -fall of snow would make traveling almost -impossible. Mac walked on in somber -silence, reflecting doubtless that it was his -obstinacy which had brought us into -trouble, a thing I confess I was not so -forgiving as to forget, though merciful -enough not to remind him of it. It had -taken us three days to come up from the -Columbia, and it seemed barely possible -under the circumstances to retrace our steps -in the same time, even although the horses -were not so much burdened and there was -not so much hard climbing to be done. But -I could see Mac was bent on getting out, and -he traveled without more rest than we were -absolutely compelled to take on account of -the animals. As for myself, I confess that -though I had traveled that same trail twice, -yet so greatly was it altered by the snow -that I should have lost my way in the -first mile. For mountaineering and the -knowledge of locality are things not to be -learnt in a hurry, they must come by long -custom, or by native instinct. -</p> - -<p> -Sorrowfully—for I am always loth to -harm even a noxious animal, as long as it -leaves me alone—I suggested to Mac that we -should leave the horses. He shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"Who'll carry the provisions, then?" said he. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think we can get to the Landing, -Mac?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall be lucky," he answered, with a -significant nod, "if we get to the other side of -the Columbia. Tom, I think I have let you -in for a winter up here, unless you care about -snow-shoeing it over the other pass. I was a -fool—say yes to that if you like." -</p> - -<p> -It was late when we camped, but my -partner was in better spirits than he had been -at noon when we held the above conversation, -for we had done, by dint of forced -marching, quite as much as we did in fine -weather. But the ponies were very tired, -and there was nothing for them to eat, or -next to nothing, for the grass was deeply -buried. I gave Dick a little bread, however, -and the poor animal was grateful for it, and -stood by me all night, until, at the earliest -dawn, we packed them again with a load that -was lighter by the day's food of two men, -and heavier to them by a day's hard toil and -starvation. -</p> - -<p> -Toward the afternoon of that, the second -day, we came to the hardest part of the whole -trail, for, on crossing a river which was -freezing cold, we had to climb the side of an -opposing mountain. Mac's pony traveled -well, and though he showed evident signs of -fatigue, he was in much better case than -mine, who every now and again staggered, or -sobbed audibly with a long-drawn breath. I -drew Mac's attention to it, but he shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"He must go on, there's no two ways about -it." And he marched off. I went behind -Dick and pushed him for a while, and though -I tired myself, yet I am not sorry for what I -did, even that little assistance was such a -relief to the poor wretched animal who, from -the time he was able to bear a weight, had -been used by a packer without rest or peace, -as though he were a machine, and whose only -hope of release was to die, starved, wounded, -saddle and girth galled, of slow starvation at -last. Such is the lot of the pack horse, and, -though poor Dick's end was more merciful, -his fellows have no better fate to expect, -while their life is a perpetual round of -ill-usage and hard work. -</p> - -<p> -By about four o'clock in the afternoon the -sky grew overcast, and the light feathery -flakes of snow came at first slowly, and then -faster, turning what blue distances we caught -sight of to a gray, finally hiding them. Dick -by this time was almost at a standstill. I -never thought I was a very tender-hearted -man, and never set up to be; indeed, if he -had been only stubborn, I might have -thrashed him in a way some folks would -call cruel; and yet, being compelled to urge -him, both for his sake and my own, I -confess my heart bled to see his suffering and -wretchedness. Having scarcely the strength -to lift his feet properly, he had struck his -fetlocks against many projecting stones and -roots until the blood ran down and congealed -on his little hoofs, which were growing -tender, as I could see by the way he winced -on a rockier piece of the trail than common. -His rough coat was standing up and -staring like that of a broken-haired terrier, -in spite of the sweat which ran down his -thin sides and heaving flanks; while every -now and again he stumbled, and with difficulty -recovered himself. -</p> - -<p> -When we came to the divide, just as if -he had said that he would do so much for -us, he stumbled again, and fell on the level -ground, cutting his knees deeply. Mac heard -the noise, and, leaving his pony standing, he -came back to me. -</p> - -<p> -"He's done up, poor devil!" said he; -"he'll go no further. What shall we do?" -</p> - -<p> -I shook my head, for it was not I who -arranged or ordered things when Mac was -about. He was silent for a while. -</p> - -<p> -"There's nothing for it," he said at last, -"but one thing. We must put all the other -kieutan can stand on him." -</p> - -<p> -By this time I had got the pack off Dick, -and he lay down perfectly flat upon his side, -with the blood slowly oozing from his knees, -and his flanks still heaving from the -exertions which had brought him up the hill to -die on the top of it. -</p> - -<p> -"Come on," said Mac, as he moved off with -what he meant to put on the other pony. -</p> - -<p> -But at first I could not go. I put my hand -in my pocket, took out a piece of bread, and, -kneeling down by the poor animal, I put it to -his lips. He mumbled it with his teeth and -dropped it out. Then in my hat I got some -water out of a little pool and offered it to -him. He drank some and then fell back -again. I took my revolver from my belt, -stroked his soft nose once more, and, putting -the weapon to his head between his eye and -ear, I fired. He shivered all over, stiffened a -little, and all was still except for the slow -drip of the blood that ran out of his ear from -a vein the ball had divided. Then I went -on—and I hope no one will think me weak -if I confess my sight was not quite so clear -as it had been before, and if there was a -strange haziness about the cruelly cold trail -and mountain side that did not come from -the falling snow. -</p> - -<p> -At our camp that night we spoke little -more than was absolutely necessary, and -turned in as soon as we had eaten supper, -drunk a tin of coffee, and smoked a couple of -pipes. Fortunately for the remaining horse, -in the place we had reached there was a little -feed, a few tussocks of withering frost-nipped -bunch grass, which he ate greedily to the last -roots his sharp teeth could reach. And then -he pawed or "rustled" for more, using his -hoof to bare what was hidden under the -snow. But for that we should have left him -on the trail next morning. -</p> - -<p> -The toil and suffering of the third day's -march were dreadful, for I grew footsore, and -my feet bled at the heels, while the skin rose -in blisters on every toe, which rapidly -became raw. But Mac was a man of iron, and -never faltered or grew tired; and his -example, and a feeling of shame at being -outdone by another, kept me doggedly behind -him at a few paces' distance. How the pony -stood that day was a miracle, for he must -have been made of iron and not flesh and -blood to carry his pack, while climbing up -and sliding down the steep ascents and slopes -of the hills, while every few yards some -wind-felled tree had to be clambered over -almost as a dog would do it. He was always -clammy with sweat, but he seemed in better -condition than on the second day, perhaps on -account of the grass he had been able to get -during the night. Yet he had had to work -all night to get it, while I and Mac had slept -in the torpor of great exhaustion. -</p> - -<p> -Late in the evening we came to the banks -of the Columbia, across which stretched sandy -flats and belts of scrub, until the level ended, -and lofty mountains rose once more, covered -with snow and fringed with sullen clouds, -thousands of feet above where we stood. -Mac stopped, and looked anxiously across the -broad stream; and when he saw a faint curl -of bluish smoke rising a mile away in the -sunless air, he pointed to it with a more -pleased expression that I had seen on his face -since he had roused me so hurriedly on that -snowy morning three days ago. -</p> - -<p> -"There is somebody over there, at any -rate, old man," he said almost cheerfully, -"though I don't know what the thunder -they're doing here, unless it's Montana Bill -come up trapping. He said he was going to -do it, but if so, what's he doing down here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Can't he trap here, then?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," replied Mac, "this might be the -end of his line; but still, he ought to be -farther up in the hills. There isn't much -to trap close down on this flat. You see -trappers usually have two camps, and they -walk the line during the day, and take out -what is caught in the night, setting the -traps again, and sleeping first at one end and -then at the other. However, we shall see -when we get across." And he set about -lighting a fire. -</p> - -<p> -When we had crossed before there had -been a rough kind of boat built out of pine -slabs, which was as crazy a craft to go in as -a butter-tub. It had been made by some -hunters the winter before, and left there -when they went west in the early spring, -before we came up. I asked Mac what had -become of it, for it was not where we had -left it, hauled up a little way on a piece of -shingle and tied to a stump. -</p> - -<p> -"Somebody took it," he said, "or more -likely, when the water rose after we crossed, -it was carried away. Perhaps it's in the -Pacific by this." -</p> - -<p> -I went down to the stump, and found -there the remains of the painter, and as it -had been broken violently and not cut, I -saw that his last suggestion was probably -correct. -</p> - -<p> -We sat down to supper by our fire, which -gleamed brightly in the gathering darkness -on the surrounding snow and the waters -close beneath us, and ate some very vile -bacon and a greasy mess of beans which we -had cooked the night before we left our -mountain camp. -</p> - -<p> -"How are we going to cross, Mac?" said -I, when we had lighted our pipes. -</p> - -<p> -"Build a raft," said he. -</p> - -<p> -"And then?" -</p> - -<p> -"When we are over?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, stay there, I guess, if it snows any -more. One more fall of heavy snow will -block Eagle Pass as sure as fire's hot!" -</p> - -<p> -I shrugged my shoulders. Though I had -been expecting this, it was not pleasant to -have the prospect of spending a whole winter -mewed up in the mountains, so close before me. -</p> - -<p> -"Does it get very cold here?" I asked at -length, when I had reflected for a while. -</p> - -<p> -He nodded sardonically. -</p> - -<p> -"Does it get cold? Is it cold now?" -</p> - -<p> -I drew closer to the fire for an answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Then this is nothin'—nothin' at all. It -would freeze the tail off a brass monkey up -here. It goes more than forty below zero -often and often; and it's a worse kind of cold -than the cold back east, for it's damper here, -and not so steady. Bah! I wish I was a -bear, so as to hole up till spring." -</p> - -<p> -All of which was very encouraging to a -man who had mostly sailed in warm latitudes, -and hated a frost worse than poison. And -it didn't please me to see that so good-tempered -a man as Mac was really put out and -in a vile humor, for he knew what I could -only imagine. -</p> - -<p> -The conversation—if conversation it could -be called—flagged very soon, and we got out -our blankets, scraping away the snow from -a place, where we lay close to each other in -order to preserve what warmth we could. -We lay in the position commonly called in -America "spooning," like two spoons fitting -one into another, so that there had to be -common consent for changing sides, one of -which grew damp while the other grew cold. -Just as we were settling down to sleep we -heard the sudden crack of a rifle from the -other shore, and against the wind came a -"halloa" across the water, Mac sat up very -unconcernedly; but, as for me, I jumped as -if I had been shot, thinking of course at first -that the shot had been fired by Indians, -though I knew there were no hostile tribes -in that part of British Columbia, where, -indeed, most of the Indians are very peaceable. -</p> - -<p> -"I told you so," said Mac; "that's Montana -Bill's rifle. I sold it him myself. He's -the only man up here that carries a Sharp." -</p> - -<p> -He rose, and went down to the water's -edge. "Halloa!" he shouted, in his turn, -and in the quietness of the windless air I -heard it faintly repeated in distant echoes. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, Mac?" said the mysterious voice. -</p> - -<p> -"You bet it is!" answered my partner, -in a tone that ought to have been heard on -the Arrow Lake. -</p> - -<p> -"Bully old boy!" said Bill faintly, as it -seemed. "Do you know me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aye, I reckon I know old Montana's -bellow!" roared Mac. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'll see you in the morning, pard!" -came the voice again, after which there was -silence, broken only by the faint lap of the -water on the shingle, as it slipped past, and -the snort of our pony as he blew the snow -out of his nostrils, vainly seeking for a tuft -of grass. -</p> - -<p> -We rose at earliest dawn, and saw Montana -Bill slowly coming over the level. He -sat down while Mac and I built a raft, and -fashioned a couple of rude paddles with the ax. -</p> - -<p> -"Is the pony coming across, Mac?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"We'll try it, but it's his own lookout," -said he; "if he won't come easy we shan't -drag him, for we shall hev to paddle to do it -ourselves." -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately for him he did want to go -over, and, having a long lariat round his neck, -he actually swam in front of us, and gave us -a tow instead of our giving him one. -</p> - -<p> -As we were going over, Mac said to me: -</p> - -<p> -"I never thought I'd be glad to see Montana -Bill before. He's got more gas and -blow about him than'd set up a town, and -he's no more good at bottom—that is, he -aint no more grit in him than a clay bank, -though to hear him talk you'd think he'd -mor'n a forty-two inch grindstone. But I -hope he's got a good stock of grub." -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes we touched bottom, and -we shook hands with the subject of Mac's -eulogium, who looked as bold as brass, as -fierce as a turkeycock, and had the voice of -a man-o'-war's bo'son. We took the lariat -off the pony, and turned him adrift. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you fellows strike it?" said Bill, the -first thing. -</p> - -<p> -"Enough to pay for our winter's board, I -reckon," said Mac. "Have you got plenty -of grub?" -</p> - -<p> -Bill nodded, using the common American -word for yes, which is a kind of cross-breed -between "yea" and the German "Ja," -pronounced short like "ye." -</p> - -<p> -"You bet I've plenty. Old Hank kem -up with me, and then he cleared out again. -He and I kind of disagreed first thing, and -he just skinned out. Good thing too—for him!" -</p> - -<p> -And Bill looked unutterable things. -</p> - -<p> -"Is there any chance of getting out over -the pass?" asked Mac. -</p> - -<p> -"If you can fly," answered Bill. "Drifts -is forty foot deep in parts, and soft too. I -could hardly get on snow-shoein' it. Better -stay and trap with me. Better'n gold-huntin' -any time, and more dollars in it." -</p> - -<p> -"Why aint you farther up in the hills?" -asked Mac, as we tramped along. -</p> - -<p> -"Dunno," said Bill; "I allers camp here -every year. It's kind of clear, and there's a -chance for the cayuses to pick a bit to keep -bones and hide together. Besides, I feel -more freer down here. I see more than 'ull -do me of the hills walking the line." -</p> - -<p> -And with that we came to his camp. -</p> - -<p> -Now, if I tell all that happened during -that winter, which was, all round, the most -uncomfortable and most unhappy one I ever -spent, for I had so much time to think of -Elsie, and how some other man more to her -mind might go to windward of me in -courting her—why, I should not write one book, -but two, which is not my intention now. -Besides, I have been long enough coming to -the most serious part of my history to tire -other people, as it has tired me; although -I could not exactly help it, because all, or at -least nearly all, that happened between the -time I was on the <i>Vancouver</i> and the time we -all met again seems important to me, especially -as it might have gone very differently if I had -never been gold-hunting in the Selkirks, or -even if I had got out of the mountains in the -fall instead of the following spring. For -things seem linked together in life, and, in -writing, one must put everything in unless -more particular description becomes tedious, -because of its interfering with the story. -And though trapping is interesting enough, -yet I am not writing here about that or hunting, -which is more interesting still; and when -a man tells me a yarn he says is about a -certain thing, I don't want him to break off in -the middle to say something quite different, -any more than I like a man to get up in -the middle of a job of work, such as a long -splice which is wanted, to do something he -wasn't ordered to do. It's only a way of -doing a literary Tom Cox's traverse, "three -times round the deck house, and once to -the scuttle-butt"—just putting in time, or -making what a literary friend of mine calls -"padding." -</p> - -<p> -So folks who read this can understand -why I shall say nothing of this long and -weary winter, and, if they prefer it, they can -think that we "holed up," as Mac said, like -the bears, and slept through it all. For in -the next part of this yarn it will be spring, -with the snow melting fast, and the trail -beginning to look like a path again that even a -sailor, who was not a mountaineer, could -hope to travel on without losing his life, or -even his way. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART IV. -<br /><br /> -LOVE AND HATE. -</h3> - -<p> -It had been raining for a week in an -incessant torrent, while the heavy clouds hung -low down the slopes of the sullen, sunless -mountains, when we struck camp in the -spring-time, and loaded our gaunt -pack-ponies for the rapidly opening trail. Our -road lay for some twenty miles on the -bottom of a flat, which closed in more and -more as we went east, until we were in the -heart of the Gold Range. The path was -liquid mud, in which we sank to the tops of -our long boots, sometimes even leaving them -embedded there; and the ponies were nearly -"sloughed down" a dozen times in the day. -At the worst places we were sometimes -compelled to take off their packs, which we -carried piecemeal to firmer ground, and there -loaded them again. It had taken us but -four or four and a half days to cross it on -our last trip, and now we barely reached -Summit Lake in the same time. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, in spite of the miserable weather and -our dank and dripping condition, in spite of -the hard work and harder idleness, when -wind and rain made it almost impossible to -sleep, I was happy—far happier than I had -been since the time I had so miserably failed -to make Elsie believe what I told her; for -now I was going back to her with the results -of my long toil, and there was nothing to -prevent my staying near her, perhaps on a -farm of my own, until she should recognize -her error at last. Yet, I thought it well to -waste no time, for though I had to a -great extent got rid of my fears concerning -that wretched Matthias, still his imprisonment -had but a few more months to run, and -he <i>might</i> keep his word and his sworn oath. -I wished to win her and wear her before that -time, and after that, why, I did not care, I -would do my best, and trust in Providence, -even if I trusted in vain. -</p> - -<p> -I have often thought since that it was -strange how much John Harmer was in my -mind, from daylight even to dark, during the -sixth day of our toilsome tramp over Eagle -Pass, for his image often unaccountably came -before me, and even dispossessed the fair face -of her whom I loved. But it was so, and -no time during that day should I have been -very much surprised, though perhaps a little -angry, to see him come round a bend in the -trail, saying half humbly and half -impudently, as he approached me, "How do -you do, Mr. Ticehurst?" I almost began to -believe after that day in second sight, -clairvoyance, and all the other mysterious things -which most sensible people look upon as -they do on charlatanry and the juggling in a -fair, for my presentiments came true in such -a strange way; even if it was only an accident -or mere coincidence after all. Yet I have -seen many things put down as "coincidences" -which puzzled me, and wiser people -than Tom Ticehurst. -</p> - -<p> -We had camped in a wretchedly miserable -spot, which had nothing to recommend it -beyond the fact that there really was some -grass there; for the wall of rock on our -right, which both Mac and Bill considered a -protection from the wind, acted as break-winds -often do, and gave us two gales in -opposite directions, instead of one. So the -wind, instead of sweeping over us and going -on its way, fought and contended over our -heads, and only ceased for a moment to rush -skrieking again about our ears as it leapt on -the fire and sent the embers here and there, -while the rain descended at every possible -angle. Perhaps it was on account of the -fizzing of the water in the fire, the rattle -of the branches overhead, and the whistling -of the wind, that we heard no one approaching -our grumbling company until they were -right upon us. I was just then half a dozen -paces out in the darkness, cutting up some -wood for our fire, and as the strangers -approached the light, I let fall my ax so -that it narrowly escaped cutting off my big -toe, for one of the two I saw was a boy, -and that boy John Harmer! I slouched my -big hat down over my eyes, and with some -wood in my arms I approached the group -and replenished the fire. John was talking -with quite a Western twang, as though -he was determined not to be taken for an -Englishman. -</p> - -<p> -"Rain!" he was saying; "well, you bet -it's something like it! On the lake it takes -an old hand to know which is land and -which is water. Old Hank was nearly -drowned in his tent the other day." -</p> - -<p> -"Serve him right!" growled Bill. "But -who are you, young feller?—I never see you -before, and I mostly know everybody in this -country." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer looked up coolly, and taking off -his hat, swung it round. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he answered, "I aint what you'd -call celebrated in B.C. yet, and so you -mightn't have heard of me. But if you -know everybody, perhaps you know Tom -Ticehurst and can tell me where he is to -be found. For I am looking for him." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you are, are you?" said Bill. -"Then what's he been doing that you want -him so bad as to come across in this trail this -weather?" -</p> - -<p> -"He hasn't been doing anything that I -know, pard," said Jack; "but I know he -was up here with a man named Mackintosh." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! I know him," replied Bill, "in fact, -I've seen him lately. Is Tom Ticehurst a -little chap with red hair and a squint?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, he isn't!" shouted Jack, as if he had -been libeled instead of me. "He's a good -looking fellow, big enough to eat you." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, is he?" sneered the joker. "I tell -you what, young feller, it would take a big -man to chew up Montana Bill's little finger." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer burst out laughing. -</p> - -<p> -"So you're Montana Bill, are you?" said he. -</p> - -<p> -"I am," answered Bill as gravely as if it -were a kingly title. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, old Hank said he could eat -you up without pepper or salt. He's as mad -at you as a man can be; says he's been -practicing shooting all the winter on purpose -to do you up, and he puts a new edge on his -knife every morning." -</p> - -<p> -"That'll do, young feller," put in Mac, -seeing that Bill was getting in a rage, and -knowing that he was just the man to have -a row with a youngster. "You're a little -too fast, you are. My name's Mackintosh, if -you want anyone of that name." -</p> - -<p> -"Do I want you!" cried Harmer anxiously; -"of course I do! Do you know where -Ticehurst is?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," replied Mac; while I stood close -beside Harmer looking down at the fire so -that he couldn't see my face—I was laughing so. -</p> - -<p> -"Then where is he? Hang it! has anything -happened to him that you fellows make -such a mystery about it?" he asked getting a -little alarmed, as I could tell by the tone of -his voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," replied Mac quietly, "I'll tell you. -He was up in the hills with me, and we -struck it rich—got a lot of gold, we did, you -bet we did," he went on in an irritating -drawl; "and then came down when the snow -flew. We had such a time getting out, young -feller, and then at last we came to the -Columbia and there——" -</p> - -<p> -"He was drowned?" said Harmer growing pale. -</p> - -<p> -"No, he warn't," replied Mac. "We got -across all right, and stayed all winter trapping -with Bill here. And let me tell you, young -man, you mustn't trifle with Bill. He's a -snorter, he is." -</p> - -<p> -I could see "Damn Bill!" almost on Jack's -lips, but he restrained it. -</p> - -<p> -"And when the Chinook came up, and the -snow began to melt a few days back, we all -got ready to cross the range—him, and Bill, -and me. That's six days ago. And a better -fellow than him you never struck, no, nor -will. What do you think, pard?" he asked -with a grin, turning to me. -</p> - -<p> -I grunted. -</p> - -<p> -"And, young feller," Mac went on again, -"if he's a pardner of yours, or a shipmate—for -I can see you're an Englishman—why, I'm -glad he's here and safe." -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly altering his tone, he turned -fiercely on Harmer, who jumped back in alarm. -</p> - -<p> -"Why the thunder don't you shake -hands with him? There he is a-waitin'." -</p> - -<p> -And John sprang across the fire and caught -me by both hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Confound it, Mr. Ticehurst, how very -unkind of you!" he said, with tears in his -eyes. "I began to think you were dead." And -he looked unutterably relieved and -happy, but bursting with some news, I could see. -</p> - -<p> -"Wait till supper, Jack," said I; "and -then tell me. But I'm glad to see you." -</p> - -<p> -I was too, in spite of his leaving the Inlet -without asking me. -</p> - -<p> -As to the man with whom he came, Montana -Bill knew him, and they spent their -time in bullying the absent Hank Patterson. -It appeared that Harmer had hired him to -come and hunt for me as far as the Columbia -River, in order to bury me decently, as he -had been firmly convinced that I was dead, -when he learnt no news of me at the Landing. -</p> - -<p> -The whole five of us sat down to beans -and bacon; but I and Harmer ate very little -because he wanted to tell me something -which I was strangely loth to hear, so sure -was I that it could be nothing good. It -certainly must be bad news to bring even an -impulsive youngster from the coast to the -Columbia in such weather. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what is it, Harmer?" said I at last. -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it anything about her?" I asked -quietly, lest the others should overhear. -</p> - -<p> -"Who? Miss F.?" he asked. I nodded, -and he shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"It's no such luck," he went on; "but I -am so doubtful of what I have to tell you, -although a few hours ago I was sure enough -that I didn't know how to begin. When -Mat's sentence be up, Mr. Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -I had no need to reckon. -</p> - -<p> -"The 15th of August, Jack." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me, and then bent over -toward me. -</p> - -<p> -"It's up already, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"What, is he dead, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir, but he has escaped." -</p> - -<p> -And he filled his pipe while I gathered -myself together. It was dreadfully -unfortunate if it were true. -</p> - -<p> -"How do you know this?" I said at length, -</p> - -<p> -"I saw him in New Westminster one night." -</p> - -<p> -"The deuce you did! Harmer, are you sure?" -</p> - -<p> -The lad looked uncomfortable, and wriggled -about on his seat, which was the old stump -of a tree felled by some former occupants of -our camping ground. -</p> - -<p> -"I should have been perfectly sure, if I -hadn't thought he was in the penitentiary," -he said finally; "but still, I don't think I -can have mistaken his face, even though I -only caught sight of it just for a moment -down in the Indian town. I was sitting in -a cabin with two other fellows and some -klootchmen, and I saw him pass. There was -not much light, and he was going quick, but -I jumped up and rushed out after him. But -in the rain and darkness he got away, if he -thought anyone was following him; or I -missed him." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad you did, my boy; he would -have thought little of putting his knife into -you," and here I rubbed my own shoulder -mechanically. "Besides, if he had seen you, -that would have helped him to track me. -But then, how in the name of thunder (as -Mac says) did he come here at all! It can't -be chance. Did you look up the San Francisco -papers to see if anything was reported -as to his escape?" -</p> - -<p> -Harmer brightened as if glad to answer -that he had done what I considered he ought -to have done. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, I did; but I found nothing -about it, nothing at all." -</p> - -<p> -I reflected a little, and saw nothing clearly, -after all, but the imperative necessity of my -getting down to the Forks. If Mat were -loose, why, I should have to be very careful, -it was true; but perhaps he might be retaken, -though I did not know if a man could -be extradited for simply breaking prison. -And if he came up country, and couldn't -find me, he might take it into his Oriental -skull to harm anyone I knew. The thought -made me shiver. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you stay at Thomson Forks, -Harmer?" I asked, to try and turn the dark -current of my thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -He blushed a little. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, but only a day. I saw no one, -though." -</p> - -<p> -"What, not even Fanny?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, but I wrote to her and told her I -was going up the Lakes to see what had -become of you." -</p> - -<p> -"That was kind of you, Jack," said I; "I -mean it was kind of you to come up here. -How do you like the country, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -He turned round comically, shrugged his -shoulders, and said nothing. I could see -that early spring in the mountains did not -please him, especially as we were in the Wet -Belt. -</p> - -<p> -But if he did not like the country, I found -he could stand it well, for he was as hardy -as a pack pony, and never complained, not -though we were delayed a whole day by the -rain, and on our return to the Landing had -to go to Thomson Forks in Indian dugouts. -When we did arrive there it was fine at last, -and the sun was shining brilliantly. -</p> - -<p> -Mac, Harmer, and I were greeted in the -friendliest manner at the hotel by Dave, the -bar-tender, who was resplendent with a white -shirt of the very finest get up, and diamond -studs. He stood us drinks at once. -</p> - -<p> -"You're welcome to it, gentlemen, and -more too. For we did think down here that -you had been lost in the snow. We never -expected to hear of you again. I think a -young lady round here must have an interest -in you, Mr. Ticehurst," said he knowingly, -"for only two days ago she called me out -and asked more than particularly about you. -When I told her nobody knew enough to -make a line in 'Local Items,' unless they -said, 'Nothing has yet been heard,' I reckon -she was sorry." -</p> - -<p> -"Who was it, Dave?" I asked carelessly -"Was it Miss Fanny Fleming?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir, it was not; it was Miss Fleming -herself, and I must say she's a daisy. The -best looking girl between the Rocky -Mountains and the Pacific, gentlemen! Miss -Fanny is nice—a pretty girl I will say; -but——" He stopped and winked, so that I -could hardly keep from throwing my glass at -his carefully combed and oiled head. But I -was happy to think that Elsie had asked -after me. -</p> - -<p> -In the morning we got horses from Ned -Conlan, and rode over to Mr. Fleming's ranch, -which was situated in a long low valley, -that terminated a mile above his house in a -narrow gulch, down which the creek came. -On either side were high hills, covered on -their lower slopes with bunch grass and bull -pines, and higher up with thick scrub, that -ran at last into bare rock, on the topmost -peaks of which snow lay for nine months of -the year. As we approached the farm, we -saw a few of the cattle on the opposing -slopes; and on the near side of the valley -were the farm-buildings and the house itself, -which was partly hidden in trees. We tied -our horses to the fence, and marched in, as we -fancied, as bold as brass in appearance; but -if Harmer felt half as uncomfortable as I did, -which I doubt, I am sorry for him. The -first person we saw was Fanny, and the first -thing she did was to upset her chair on the -veranda on the top of a sleeping dog, who -at first howled, and then made a rush at us -barking loudly. -</p> - -<p> -"Down, Di!" cried Fanny. "How dare -you! O Mr. Ticehurst, how glad I am -you're not dead! And you, too, Mr. Harmer, -though no one said you were! Oh, where's -father, I wonder—he'll be glad, too!" -</p> - -<p> -"And Elsie, will she be glad as well, -Fanny?" I asked. She looked at me slyly, -and nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"You'd better ask her, I think. Here -comes father." -</p> - -<p> -He rode up on horseback, followed by -Siwash Jim, swinging the noose of a lariat in -his right hand, as though he had been after -horses or cattle. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it's you, Tom, is it?" said Fleming, -who was looking very well. "I'm glad -you're not quite so dead as I was told. And -you, Harmer, how are you? Jim, take these -gentlemen's horses to the stable. You've -come to stay for dinner, of course. I shan't -let you go. I heard you did very well -gold-gambling last fall. Come in!" For that -news went down the country when we went -to the Landing for grub. -</p> - -<p> -I followed, wondering a little whether -he would have been quite so effusive if I -had done badly. But I soon forgot that -when I saw Elsie, who had just come out of -her room. I thought, when I saw her, that -she was a little paler than when we had last -met, though perhaps that was due to the -unaccustomed cold and the sunless winter; -but she more than ever merited the rough -tribute which Dave had paid her in Conlan's -bar. She was very beautiful to them; but -how much more to me, as she came up, a little -shyly, and shook hands softly, saying that -she was glad that the bad news they had -heard of me was not true. I fancied that she -had thought of me often during that winter, -and perhaps had seen she had been unjust. -At any rate, there was a great difference -between what she was then and what she was now. -</p> - -<p> -We talked during dinner about the winter, -which the three Australians almost cursed; -in fact, the father did curse it very admirably, -while Elsie hardly reproved his strong -language, so much did she feel that forty -degrees below zero merited all the opprobrium -that could be cast on it. I described -our gold-mining adventures and the -winter's trapping, which, by the way, had -added five hundred dollars to my other money. -</p> - -<p> -I told Fleming that I was now worth, with -some I still had at home, more than five -thousand dollars, and I could see it gave him -satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think of the country now, -Mr. Fleming?" I asked; "and how long -shall you stay here?" -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, my boy," he answered; "I -think, in spite of the cold, we shall have to -stand another winter here. This summer I -must rebuild the barns and stables; there -are still a lot of cattle adrift somewhere; -and I won't sell out under a certain sum. -That's business, you know; and I have just a -little about me, though I am an old fool at -times, when the girls want their own way." -</p> - -<p> -"What would you advise me to do?" said -I, hoping he would give me some advice -which I could flatter him by taking. "You -see, when one has so much money, it is only -the correct thing to make more of it. The -question is how to do it." -</p> - -<p> -"That's quite right, Ticehurst—quite -right!" said he energetically. "I'm glad -you talk like that; your head's screwed on -right; you will be well in yet" (an -Australian phrase for our "well off"), "I'll bet on -that. Well, you can open a store, or go -lumbering, or gold-mining, or hunting, or raise -cattle, like me." -</p> - -<p> -I pretended to reflect, though I nearly -laughed at catching Harmer's eye, for he -knew quite well what I wanted to do. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Mr. Fleming, you're right. That's -nearly all one can do. But as to keeping a -store, you see, I've been so accustomed to an -open-air life, I don't think it would suit me. -Besides, a big man like me ought to do -something else than sell trousers! As to -gold-mining, I've done that, and been lucky once, -which, in such a gambling game, is against -me. And hunting or trapping—well, there's -nothing great in that. I think I should -prefer cattle-raising, if I could do it. I was -brought up on a farm in England, and why -shouldn't I die on one in British Columbia, -or" (and I looked at Elsie) "in Australia?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite right, Tom," said Fanny, laughing, -for she was too cute to miss seeing what I meant. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Fleming looked at me approvingly. -</p> - -<p> -"You'll die worth a lot yet, Tom Ticehurst. -I like your spirit. I was just the -same once. Now, I'll tell you what. Did -you ever see George Nettlebury at the Forks?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," I replied, "not that I know of." -</p> - -<p> -"I dare say you have," said he; "he's -mostly drunk; and Indian Alice, who is -always with him, usually has a black eye, as -a gentle reminder that she belongs to an -inferior race, if she is his wife. Now, he -lives about two miles from here, over -yonder" (he pointed over the valley). "He -has a house—a very dirty one now, it is true; -a stable, and a piece of meadow, fenced in, -where he could raise good hay if he would -mend the fence and keep other folks' cattle -out. He told me the other day that he was -sick to death of this place, and he wants just -enough to go East with, and return to his -old trade of shipbuilding. He says he will -take $300 for the whole place, with -what is on it. That don't amount to much—two -cows, one old steer, and a cayuse he -rides round on. If you like, we'll go over -and see him. You can buy it, and buy some -more cattle, and if you have more next -winter than you can feed, I'll let you have -the hay cheap. What do you say?" -</p> - -<p> -My heart leapt up, but I pretended I -wanted time to think about it. -</p> - -<p> -"Then let's ride over now, and you can -look at the place," said he; rising. -</p> - -<p> -Harmer would not come, so I left him -with the sisters. When we returned I was -the owner of the house, stable, two cows, -etc., and George Nettlebury was fighting -with Indian Alice, to whom he had -announced his intention of going East at once, -and without her. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm tired of this life; it's quite -disgusting!" said George, as we departed. "I'm -glad you came, Mr. Ticehurst, for I'm off too -quick." -</p> - -<p> -As we rode back to Thomson Forks, Harmer -asked pathetically what he was to do. -</p> - -<p> -"We must see, Jack," I answered kindly. -"We'll get you something in town." -</p> - -<p> -"I'd rather be with you," he answered -dolorously. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you can't yet, that's certain," said I. -"I can't afford to pay you wages, when there -will be no more than I can get through -myself; when there is, I'll let you know. -In the meantime you must make money, -Jack. There's a sawmill in town. I know -the man that runs it—Bill Custer, and I'll -go and see him for you." -</p> - -<p> -Jack sighed, and we rode on in silence -until we reached the Forks. -</p> - -<p> -After we had had supper Jack and I were -standing in the barroom, not near the stove, -which was surrounded by a small crowd of -men, who smoked and chewed and chattered, -but close by the door for the sake of the -fresher air, when we saw Siwash Jim ride -up. After tying his horse to the rail in -front of the house, to which half a dozen -other animals in various stages of equine -despondency or irritation were already -attached, he swaggered into the bar, -brushing against me rather rudely as he -did so. Harmer's eyes flashed with indignation, -as if it was he who had been insulted. -But I am a very peaceable man, and don't -always fight at the first chance. Besides, -being so much bigger than Jim, I could, I -considered, afford to take no notice of what -an ill-conditioned little ruffian like that did -when he was probably drunk. Presently -Jack spoke to me. -</p> - -<p> -"That beastly fellow keeps looking at you, -Mr. Ticehurst, as if he would like to cut -your throat. What's wrong with him? Is -he jealous of you, do you think?" -</p> - -<p> -It was almost blasphemy to dream of such -a thing, and I looked at Mr. John Harmer -so sternly that he apologized; yet I believe -it must to some extent have been that which -caused the trouble that ensued almost -directly, and added afterward to the danger -in which I already stood. I turned round -and looked at Jim, who returned my glance -furiously. He ordered another drink, and -then another. It seemed as if he was -desirous of making himself drunk. Presently -Dave, who was, as usual, behind the bar, -spoke to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Going back to the ranch to-night, Jim?" -</p> - -<p> -Jim struck the bar hard with his fist. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I'm not! Never, unless I go to set -the damned place on fire!" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, what's the matter?" asked Dave, -smiling, while Harmer and I pricked up our ears. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! I had some trouble with old Fleming -just now," said Jim, in a hoarse voice of -passion. "He's like the rest, wants too much; -the more one does, the more one may do. -He's a dirty coyote, and his girls are——" And -the gentle-minded Jim used an epithet -which made both our ears tingle. -</p> - -<p> -Jack made a spring, but I caught him by -the shoulder and sent him spinning back, and -walked up alongside the men. I saw my -own face in the glass at the back of the bar; -it was very white, and I could hardly recognize it. -</p> - -<p> -"Mind what you say, you infernal ruffian!" -I said, in a low voice, "or I'll break your neck -for you! Don't you dare to speak about -ladies, you dog, or I'll strangle you!" He -sprang back like lightning. If he had had a -six-shooter on him I think my story would -have ended here, for I had none myself. But -Jim had no weapon. Yet he was no coward, -and did not "take water," or "back down," -as they say there. He steadied himself one -moment, and then threw the water-bottle at -me with all his force. Though I ducked, -I did not quite escape it, for the handle -caught me on the forehead near the hair, and, -in breaking, cut a gash which sent the blood -down into my left eye. But I caught hold -of him before he could do anything else. -In a moment the room was in an uproar; -some of the men climbed on to the tables -in order to get a view, while those outside -crowded to the door. They roared, "Leave -'em alone!" when Dave attempted to -approach, and one big fellow caught hold -of Harmer and held him, saying at the same -time, as Jack told me afterward, "You stay -right here, sonny, and see 'em fight. Mebbe -you'll larn something!" -</p> - -<p> -I found Jim a much tougher customer than -I should have imagined, although I might -have handled him more easily if I had not -been for the time blind in one eye. But he -was like a bunch of muscle; his arms, though -slender, were as tough and hard as his -stock-whip handle, and his quickness was surprising. -He struck me once or twice as we grappled, -and then we fell, rolling over and over, and -scattering the onlookers, as we went, until we -came against the legs of the table, which gave -way and sent three men to the floor with a -shock that shook the house. Finally, Jim got -his hand in my hair and tried to gouge out -my eyes. Fortunately, it was not long enough -for him to get a good hold, but when I felt -his thumbs feeling for my eyes, all the -strength and rage I ever had seemed to come -to me, and I rose suddenly with him clinging -to me. For a moment we swayed about, and -then I caught his throat, pushed him at arm's -length from me, and, catching hold of his -belt, I threw him right over my head. I was -standing with my back to the door, and he -went through it, fell on the sidewalk, and -rolled off into the road, where he lay -insensible. -</p> - -<p> -"Very good!" said Dave; "very well -done indeed! Pick him up, some of you -fellows, and see if he's dead. The son of a -gun, I'll make him pay for that bottle, -and for the table! Come, have a drink, -Mr. Ticehurst. You look rather warm." -</p> - -<p> -I should think I did, besides being -smothered with blood and dust. I was glad -to accept his invitation. -</p> - -<p> -"Is he dead?" I asked of Harmer, who -came in just then. -</p> - -<p> -"Not he," said Jack, "he's coming to -already, but I guess he'll fight no more for a -few days. That must have been a sickener. -By Jove! how strong you must be—he went -out of the door like a stone out of a sling. -Lucky he didn't hit the post." And Harmer -chuckled loudly, and then went off with me -to wash away the blood, and bandage the -cut in my forehead. -</p> - -<p> -When I left town in the morning I heard -that Jim was still in bed and likely to stay -there for some time. And Harmer, who was -going to work with Bill Custer, promised to -let me know if he heard anything which was -of importance to me. -</p> - -<p> -On my way out to my new property I met -its late owner and his Indian wife in their -ricketty wagon, drawn by the horse I had not -thought worth buying. Nettlebury was -more than half drunk, although it was early -in the morning, and when he saw me coming -he rose up, waved his hand to me, bellowed, -"I'm a-goin' East, I am!" and, falling over -the seat backward, disappeared from view. -Alice reached out her hand and helped -her husband to regain his former position. -I came up alongside and reined in my horse. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me. -</p> - -<p> -"Been fightin' already, hev you; or did you -get chucked off? More likely you got -chucked—it takes an American to ride these -cay uses!" said he half scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said I, "I wasn't chucked, and I -have been fighting. Did you hear why -Siwash Jim left Fleming!" -</p> - -<p> -"No, not exactly," he returned; "but he -was sassy with Miss Elsie, and—oh, I -dunno—but you hev been fightin', eh? Did you -lick him—and who was it?" -</p> - -<p> -"The man himself, Mr. Nettlebury," said -I—"Jim; and I reckon I did whip him." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Good on you, old man! He's been -wanting it this long while past; but look -out he don't put a knife in your ribs. Now -then," said he ferociously, turning to his wife, -"why don't you drive on? Here, catch -hold!" and giving her the reins, he lifted his -hand to strike her. But just then the old -horse started up, he fell over the seat again, -and lay there on a pile of sacking. I hardly -thought he would get East with his money, -and I was right, for I hired him to work for -me soon afterward. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to the Flemings' there was -no one about but the old man. -</p> - -<p> -"Busy!" said he, "you may bet I'm busy. -I sent that black ruffian off yesterday, and -I've got no one to help me. What's the -matter with your head?" -</p> - -<p> -When I told him, he laughed heartily, and -then shook my hand. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad you thrashed him, Tom," said -he; "I'd have done it myself yesterday if I -had been ten years younger. When Elsie -wanted him to get some water, he growled -and said all klootchmen, as he calls -'em—women, you know—were alike, Indian or -white, and no good. I told him to get out. -Is he badly hurt?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not very," I answered. -</p> - -<p> -"I hoped he was," said the old man. "It's -a pity you didn't break his neck! I would -as soon trust a black snake! Are you going -over yonder?" -</p> - -<p> -"I guess so," I answered; "I must get -the place cleaned up a bit—it's like a pigsty, -or what they call a hog-pen in this country," -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I guess it is," he replied; "but -come over in the evening, if you like." -</p> - -<p> -I thanked him and rode off, happy in one -thing at least—I was near Elsie. I felt as if -Harmer's suspicions about Mat were a mere -chimera, and that the lad in some excitement -had mistaken the dark face of some harmless -Indian for that of the revengeful Malay. -And as to Siwash Jim, why, I shrugged my -shoulders; I did not suppose he was so -murderously inclined as Nettlebury imagined. -It would be hard lines on me to have two -men so ill disposed toward me, through -no fault of my own, as to wish to kill me. -</p> - -<p> -I went back to the Flemings' after a hard -day's work, in which I burnt, or otherwise -disposed of, an almost unparalleled collection -of rubbish, including old crockery and -bottles, dirty shirts and worn-out boots, -which had been accumulating indoors and -out for some ten years. After being nearly -smothered, I was glad to go down to the -creek and take a bath in the clear, cold water -which ran into the main watercourse issuing, -some two miles away, from the Black Cañon -at the back of the valley, concerning which -Fleming had once spoken to me. That -evening at his ranch was the pleasantest I -ever spent in my life up to that time, in spite -of the black cloud which hung over me, for -Fanny was as bright and happy as a bird, -while Elsie, who seemed to have come to her -senses, spoke almost freely, displaying no -more disinclination to me, even apparently, -than might naturally be set down to her -instinctive modesty, and her knowledge that -I was courting her, and desired to be -received as her lover. -</p> - -<p> -I spoke to her late that evening when -Fleming went out to throw down the night's -hay to his horses. For Fanny vanished -discreetly at the same moment, and continued -to make just enough noise in the kitchen to -assure us she was there, while it was not -sufficient to drown even the softest -conversation. Good girl she was, and is—I -love her yet, though—well, perhaps I had -better leave that unsaid at present. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie," I said, when we were alone, "do -you remember what I said when we parted -on the steamer?" -</p> - -<p> -She cast her eyes down, but did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you do, Elsie," I went on; "I said -I should never forget. Do you think I have? -Don't you know why I left my ship, why I -came to this country, why I went mining, and -why I have worked so hard and patiently for -long, long months without seeing you? Answer -me; do you know why?" -</p> - -<p> -She hesitated a moment, lifted up her blue -eyes, dropped them at the sight of the passion -in mine, and said gently, "I suppose so, -Mr. Ticehurst." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, you know, Elsie; it was that I -might be near you, that I might get rich -enough to be able to claim you. How -fortunate I have been in that! But am I -fortunate in other things, too, Elsie? Will you -answer me that, Elsie?" -</p> - -<p> -I approached her, but she held up her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Stay, Mr. Ticehurst!—if I must speak. -I may have judged you wrongly, but I am -not wholly sure that I have. If I have not, -I should only be preparing misery for myself -and for you, if I answered your questions as -you would have me. I want time, and I must -have it, or some other assurance; for how can -I wholly trust you when you will not speak -as you might do?" -</p> - -<p> -Ah! how could I? But this was -far better than I had expected—far better. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie," I answered quietly, "I am ready -to give you time, all the time you need to -prove me, and my love for you, though there -is no need. My heart is yours, and yours -only, ever from the time I saw you. I have -never even wavered in my faith and hope. -But I do not care so long as I may be near -you—so long as I may see you sometimes, -and speak to you. For without you I shall -be wretched, and would be glad even if that -wretched Malay were to kill me, as he threatened." -</p> - -<p> -I thought I was cunning to bring in Matthias, -and indeed she lifted her eyes then. -But she showed no signs of fear for me. -Perhaps she looked at me, saying to herself -there was no need of such a strong man being -afraid of such a visionary danger. She spoke -after a little silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Then let it be so, Mr. Ticehurst. If -what you say be true, there at least is nothing -for you to fear." -</p> - -<p> -She looked at me straight then with her -glorious blue eyes, and I would have given -worlds to catch her in my arms and press her -to my heart. She went on: -</p> - -<p> -"And if you never give me cause, why—" She -was silent, but held out her hand. -</p> - -<p> -I took it, pressed it, and would have raised -it to my lips, only she drew it gently away. -But I went to rest happy that night. Give -her cause!—indeed, what cause could I give -her? That is what I asked myself, without -knowing what was coming, without feeling -my ignorance, my blindness, and my helplessness -in the strange web of fate and fated -crime which was being woven around me—without -being conscious, as an animal is in -the prairie, of that storm, so ready to burst -on my head, whose first faint clouds had risen -on the horizon of my life, even before I had -seen her, in the very hour that I had joined -the <i>Vancouver</i> under my own brother's -command. I went to sleep, wondering vaguely -what had become of him. But we are blind, -all of us, and see nothing until the curtain -rises on act after act; being ignorant still, -whether the end shall be sweet or bitter to -us, whether it shall justify our smiles in -happiness, or our tears in some bitter -tragedy. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -For two days I worked in and about my -house, putting things in some order, and on -the third I rode over to the Flemings' early -in the morning, as it had been arranged that -I was to go out with Mr. Fleming to look -after some cattle of his, which a neighbor -had complained of. I never felt in better -spirits than when I rode over the short two -miles which separated us, for the morning -was calm and bright, with a touch of that -glorious freshness known only among mountains -or on high plateaus lifted up from the -common level of the under world. I even -sang softly to myself, for the black cloud of -doubt, which but a few days ago had -obscured all my light, was driven away by a -new dawning of hope, and I was content and -without fear. I shouted cheerfully for -Fleming as I rode up, and he came to the -door with his whip over his arm, followed by -the two girls. I alighted, and shook hands -all round. -</p> - -<p> -"Then you are ready, Mr. Fleming?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"When I have put the saddle on the black -horse," he replied, as he went toward the -stable, leaving me standing there, for I was -little inclined to offer to assist him while -Elsie remained outside the house. Fanny -was quite as mischievous as ever, and -whether her sister had told her anything of -what had passed between us two days before -or not, she was evidently conscious that the -relations between Elsie and myself had -somehow altered for the better. -</p> - -<p> -"How do you find yourself these days, -Tom?" she asked, with a merry twinkle in -her eye. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, Fanny," I answered. "Thanks -for your inquiry." -</p> - -<p> -"Does the climate suit you, then? Or is -it the surroundings?" -</p> - -<p> -"Both, my dear girl, as long as the sun -shines on us!" I replied, laughing, while -Elsie turned away with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -Fanny almost winked at me, and then -looked up the road toward Thomson Forks, -which ran close by the ranch and led toward -an Indian settlement on the Lake about ten -miles away. -</p> - -<p> -"There's someone coming," she said, "and -he's in a hurry. Isn't he galloping, Mr. Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -I looked up the road and saw somebody -who certainly was coming down the long -slope from the crest of the hill with more -than reasonable rapidity. I looked, and then -turned away carelessly. What was the horseman -to me? I leant against the post of the -veranda, which some former occupant of the -house had ornamented by whittling with his -knife, until it was almost too thin to do its -duty, and began to speak to Fanny again, -when I saw her blush and start. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," she said, "it's Mr. Harmer!" -</p> - -<p> -Then the horseman was something to me, -after all. For what but some urgent need -would bring Jack, who was entirely ignorant -of horses and riding, at that breakneck gallop -over the mountain road? My carelessness -went suddenly, and I felt my heart begin to -beat with unaccustomed violence. I turned -pale, I know, as I watched him coming -nearer. I was quite unconscious that Elsie -had rejoined her sister, and stood behind me. -</p> - -<p> -Harmer came closer and closer, and when -he saw us waved his hat. In a moment he -was at the gate, while I stood still at the -house, and did not move to go toward him. -He alighted, opened the gate, and, with his -bridle over his aim, came up to us. He said -good-morning to the girls hurriedly, and -turned to me. -</p> - -<p> -"You must come to Thomson Forks -directly, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said, gasping, -wiping his forehead with his sleeve. -"Something's happened, I don't know -what, and I can't tell; but she wants to see -you at once, and sent me off to fetch you—and -so I came, and, oh! how sore I am," and -he wriggled suggestively, and in a way that -would have been comic under other circumstances. -</p> - -<p> -I caught hold of his arm. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean," I roared, "you -young fool? What's happened, and who -wants to see me? Who's <i>she</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -He looked up in astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, didn't I say Mrs. Ticehurst, of course?" -</p> - -<p> -I let him go and fell against the post, -making it crack as I did so. I looked at -Elsie, and she was white and stern. But she -did not avoid my eye. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what is it—what's happened?" I -said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, I tell you, sir," said he -almost piteously; "all I know is that I was -sent for to the sawmill by Dave, and when I -came I saw Mrs. Ticehurst; and she's dressed -in black, sir, and she looked dreadfully bad, -and she just shook hands with me, and told -me to fetch you at once. And when I asked -what for, she just stamped, sir, and told me -to go. And so I came, and that's all!" -</p> - -<p> -Surely it was enough. Much as I liked -her, I would rather have met Mat or the very -devil in the way than had this happen now, -when things were going so well with me. -And in black?—good God! had anything -happened to my brother? I turned white, I -know, and almost fell. -</p> - -<p> -"You had better go at once, Tom," -laid Fanny, who held me by the arm. I -turned, I hardly know why, to her sister. -Her face was very pale, but her eyes -glittered, and she looked like marble. I know -my own asked hers a question, but I got no -response. I turned away toward my horse, -and then she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Ticehurst, let me speak to you one -moment. Fanny, go and talk to Mr. Harmer." -</p> - -<p> -And Fanny and I both obeyed her like children. -</p> - -<p> -She looked at me straight. -</p> - -<p> -"How could I prove you, Mr. Ticehurst," -she said, in a low voice, "was what I asked -the other night. Now the means are in my -power. What are you going to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to the Forks," I said, in -bewilderment. Her eyes flashed, and she -looked at me scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Then go, but don't ever speak to me again! Go!" -</p> - -<p> -And she turned away. I caught her arm. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be unjust, Elsie!—don't be cruelly -unjust!" I cried. What a fool I was; I -knew she loved me, and yet I asked her -not to be cruel and unjust. Can a woman -or a man in love be anything else? -</p> - -<p> -"How can I stay away?" I asked -passionately, "when my brother's wife sends -for me? And she is in black—poor Will -must be dead!" -</p> - -<p> -If he was dead, then Helen was free. -I saw that and so did Elsie, and it hardened -her more than ever, for she did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Look then, Elsie, I am going, and you say -I shall not speak to you again. You are cruel, -very cruel—but I love you! And you shall -speak to me—aye, and one day ask my pardon -for doubting me. But even for you I cannot -refuse this request of my own sister-in-law—who -is ill, alone, in sorrow and trouble, in a -strange land. For the present, good-by!" -</p> - -<p> -I turned away, took my horse from the -fence, and rode off rapidly, without thinking -of Harmer, or of Fleming, who was standing -in amazement at his stable, as I saw when I -opened the swing-gate. And if Harmer had -come up at a gallop, I went at one, until my -horse was covered with sweat, and the foam, -flying from his champed bit, hung about my -knees like sea-foam that did not easily melt. -In half an hour I was at Conlan's door, and -was received by Dave. In two minutes I -stood in Helen's presence. -</p> - -<p> -When I saw her last she had that rich red -complexion which showed the pure color of -the blood through a delicate skin; her eyes -were piercing and perhaps a little hard, and -her figure was full and beautiful. She had -always rejoiced, too, in bright colors, such as -an Oriental might have chosen, and their -richness had suited her striking appearance. -But now she was woefully altered, and I -barely knew her. The color had deserted -her cheeks, which were wan and hollow; -her eyes were sunken and ringed with dark -circles, and her bust had fallen in until she -looked like the ghost of her former self, a -ghost that was but a mere vague memory -of her whom I had first known in Melbourne. -</p> - -<p> -Her dress, too, was black, which I knew -she hated, and in which she looked even less -like herself. Her voice, when she spoke, no -longer rang out with assurance, but faltered -ever and again with the tears that rose to her -eyes and checked her utterance. -</p> - -<p> -I took her hand, full of pity for her, and -dread of what she had to tell me, for it must -be something dreadful which had changed -her so much and brought her so far. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Helen?" I said, in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -"What did I come for, you mean, Tom?" -she asked, though desiring no answer. "I -came for your sake—and not for Will's. I -thought you might never get a letter, and I -wanted to see you once again. Ah! how -much I desired that. Tom, you are in -danger!" she spoke that suddenly—"in -danger every moment! For that man who -threatened your life——" -</p> - -<p> -I nodded, sucking my dry lips, for I knew -what she meant, and I was only afraid of -what else she had to tell me. -</p> - -<p> -"That man has escaped, and has not been -caught. O Tom, be careful—be careful! -If you were to die, too——" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, Helen?" I asked, -though I knew full well what she meant. -She looked at me. -</p> - -<p> -"Can't you think? Yes, you can perhaps -partly; but not all—not all the horror of it. -Tom, Will is dead! And not only that, but -he was murdered in San Francisco!" -</p> - -<p> -I staggered, and sat down staring at her. -She went on in a curiously constrained -voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; the very first night we came ashore, -and in our hotel! He was intoxicated, and -came in late, and I wouldn't have him in my -room. I made them put him in the next, and -I heard him shouting out of his window over -the veranda soon afterward, and then I fell -asleep. And in the morning I found him—I -myself found him dead in bed, struck right -through with a stab in the heart. And he -was robbed, too. Tom, it nearly killed me, -it was so horrible—oh, it was horrible! I -didn't know what to do. I was going to -send for you, and then I read in the paper -about Mat having escaped two days before, -so I came away at once." -</p> - -<p> -She ceased and sobbed violently; and I -kept silence. God alone knows what was in -my heart, and how it came there; but for a -moment—yes, and for more than that—I -suspected her, his wife, of my brother's -murder! I was blind enough, I suppose, and -so was she; but then so many times in life -we wonder suddenly at our want of sight -when the truth comes out. I remembered -she had once said she hated him, and could -kill him. And besides, she loved me. I -shivered and was still silent. She looked up -and caught my eye, which, I knew, was full -of doubt. She rose up suddenly, came to -me, fell on her knees, and cried: -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, Tom—not that! For God's -sake, don't look at me so!" -</p> - -<p> -And I knew she saw my very heart, and -I was ashamed of myself. I lifted her up -and put her on a chair. Heavens! how light -she was to what she had been, for her soul -had wasted her body away like a strong -wind fanning a fire. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor Will!" I said at last, and then I -asked if she had remained for the inquest. -No, she had not, she answered. I started at -her reply. If I could think what I had, -what might others not do? For her to -disappear like that after the murder of her -husband was enough to make people believe -her guilty of the crime, and I wondered that -she had not been prevented from leaving. -But on questioning her further, I learnt that -the police suspected a certain man who was -a frequenter of that very hotel; and, after -the manner of their kind, had got him in -custody, and were devoting all their -attention to proving him guilty of the crime, -whether there were <i>prima facie</i> proofs or -not. Still, it seemed bitter that poor Will -should be left to strangers while his wife -came to see me; and though she had done it -to save me, as she thought, yet, after all, the -danger was hardly such as to warrant her -acting as she had done. But I was not the -person to blame her. She had done it, poor -woman, because she yet loved me, as I knew -even then. But I saw, too, that it was love -without hope; and even if it had not been, -she must have learnt that I was near to -Elsie; and that I was "courting old -Fleming's gal" was the common talk whenever -my name was mentioned. I tried to convince -myself that she had most likely ceased -to think of me, and I preferred to believe it -was only the daily and hourly irritation of -poor Will's conduct which had driven her to -compare me with him to his disadvantage. -Well, whatever his faults were, they had been -bitterly expiated; as, indeed, such faults as -his usually are. It does not require statistics -to convince anyone who has seen much of -the world that most of the trouble in it -comes directly from drink. -</p> - -<p> -I was in a strange situation as I sat -reflecting. I suppose strict duty required me to -go to San Francisco, and yet Will would be -buried before I could get there. Then what -was I to do with his widow? She could not -stay there, I could not allow it, nor did I -think she desired it. Still she was not fit to -travel in her state of nervous exhaustion; -indeed, it was a marvel that she had been able -to come so far, even under the stimulus of -such unwonted excitement. I could not go -away with her even for a part of the return -journey, for I felt Elsie would be harder and -harder to manage the more she knew I saw -of Helen. I ended by coming to the -conclusion that she must stay at the Forks for -a while, and that I must go back and try -to have an explanation with Elsie. Helen -bowed her head in acquiescence when I told -her what she had better do, for the poor -woman was utterly broken down, and ready -to lean on any arm that was offered her; and -she, who had been so strong in her own will, -was at last content to be advised like an -obedient child. I left her with Mrs. Conlan, -to whom I told as much as I thought desirable, -and, kissing her on the forehead, I took -my horse and rode slowly toward home. -</p> - -<p> -As I left the town I saw Siwash Jim -sitting on the sidewalk, and he looked at -me with a face full of diabolical hatred. -When I got to the crest of the hill above the -town I turned in the saddle, and saw him -still gazing after me. -</p> - -<p> -When half-way home I met Harmer, who -was riding even slower than I, and sitting as -gingerly in the saddle as if he were very -uncomfortable, as I had no doubt he was. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Mr. Ticehurst," said he eagerly, -when we came near, "what was it?" -</p> - -<p> -I told him, and he looked puzzled. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he remarked at last, "it seems to -me I must have been mistaken after all, and -that I didn't see Mat when I thought I did. -Let me see, when did he escape?" -</p> - -<p> -I reckoned it up, and it was only twelve -days ago, for Helen had taken nine days -coming from San Francisco, according to what -she told me. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it is impossible for me to have seen -him in New Westminster," said Harmer. -"But it is very strange that I should have -imagined I did see him, and that he did -escape after all." -</p> - -<p> -Then I told him of my brother's death. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," he exclaimed, -"Matthias must have done it himself! He -must—don't you see he must?" -</p> - -<p> -The thought had not entered into my head. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said I; "I don't see it at all. -There's a man in custody for it now, and it is -hardly likely Mat would stay in San -Francisco, if he escaped, for two days. -Besides, it is even less likely that he would -fall across my brother the very first evening -he came ashore." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer shook his head obstinately. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall see, sir—we shall see. You -know he didn't like Captain Ticehurst much -better than you. Then, you say he was -robbed of his papers. Was your address -among them, do you think?" -</p> - -<p> -I started, for Jack's suspicion seemed -possible after all. The thing, looked more -likely than it had done at first sight. And -yet it was only my cowardice that made me -think so. I shook my head, but answered -"yes" to his question. -</p> - -<p> -"Then pray, Mr. Ticehurst, be careful," -said Jack earnestly, "and carry your revolver -always. Besides, that fellow Jim is about -again. You hardly hurt him at all; he must -be made of iron, and I heard last night he -threatened to have your life." -</p> - -<p> -"Threatened men live long, Jack," said -I. "I am not scared of him. That's only -talk and blow. I don't care much if Mat -doesn't get on my track. He would be -dangerous. Did you see Miss Fleming -before you left?" I said, turning the -conversation. -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. She had gone to her -room, and remained there when I went away. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Harmer, I shall be in town the day -after to-morrow," I said at last, "and if -anything happens, you can send me word; -and go and see Mrs. Ticehurst meanwhile." -</p> - -<p> -"I will do that," said he, "but to-morrow -morning I have to go up the lake to the -logging camp, and don't know when I shall -be back. That's what Custer said this -morning, when I asked him to let me come -over here." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, it won't matter, I dare say," I -answered. "Take care of yourself, Jack." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, turning -round in the saddle, and wincing as he did -so, "it is you who must be careful! Pray, -do be very careful!" -</p> - -<p> -I nodded, shook hands, and rode on. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to the Flemings', Fanny -was at the big gate, and she asked a question -by her eyes before we got close enough to -speak. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Fanny," said I, "it was serious." And -then I told her what had occurred. -She held out her hand and pressed mine -sympathetically. -</p> - -<p> -"I am so sorry, Tom," was all she said; -but she said it so kindly that her voice -almost brought the tears to my eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Has Elsie spoken to you since I went, -Fanny?" I asked, as we walked down to -the house together, while my horse followed -with his head hanging down. -</p> - -<p> -"I haven't even seen her, Tom," she -replied; "the door was locked, and when I -knocked she told me to go away, which, as -it's my room too, was not very polite." -</p> - -<p> -In spite of my love for Elsie, I felt -somewhat bitter against her injustice to me, -and I was glad to see that I made her suffer -a little on her part. I know I have said very -little about my own feelings, for I don't care -somehow to put down all that I felt, any -more than I like to tell any stranger all that -is near my heart; but I did feel strongly and -deeply, and to see her, who was with me by -day and night as the object of my fondest -hope, so unjust, was enough to make me -bitter. I wished to reproach her, for I was -not a child—a boy, to be fooled with like this. -</p> - -<p> -"Go and ask her to see me, Fanny, please," -I said rather sternly, as I stood outside the -door. "And don't tell her anything of what -I told you, either of Will or Matthias." -</p> - -<p> -Fanny started. -</p> - -<p> -"You never said anything of Matthias!" she cried. -</p> - -<p> -"Didn't I, Fanny? Well, then, I will. -He has escaped from prison, and I suppose -he is after me by this. But don't tell Elsie. -Just say I want to see her." -</p> - -<p> -In a few moments she came back, with -tears in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"She won't, Tom! She is in an obstinate -fit, I know. And though she is crying her -eyes out—the spiteful cat!—she won't come. -I know her. She just told me to go away. -What shall I do?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing, Fanny," I answered; "you can -tell her what you like. Will you be so cruel -to your lover, little Fanny?" -</p> - -<p> -She looked up saucily. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, Tom; I shall see when I -have one"—and she laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"What about Jack Harmer, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you see," and she looked down, -"he's very young." She wasn't more than -seventeen herself, and looked younger. -"And, besides, I don't care for anybody but -Elsie and father and you, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, Fanny," said I; "give me a -kiss from Elsie, and make her give it you -back." -</p> - -<p> -"I will, Tom," she said quite simply, and, -kissing her, I rode off quietly across the flat -to my solitary home. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART V -<br /><br /> -AT THE BLACK CAÑON. -</h3> - -<p> -Now, as far as I have gone in this story, I -have related nothing which I did not see or -hear myself, which is, as it seems to me, the -proper way to do it, provided nothing important -is left out. But as I have learnt since -then what happened to other people, and -have pieced the story together in my mind, -I see it is necessary to depart from the rule I -have observed hitherto, if I don't want to -explain, after I have come to the end of the -whole history, what occurred before; and -that, I can see, would be a very clumsy way -of narrating any affair. Now, what I am -going to tell I have on very good evidence, for -Dave at the Forks, and Conlan's stableman -told me part, and afterward, as will be seen, -I actually learnt something from Siwash Jim -himself, who here plays rather a curious and -important part. -</p> - -<p> -It appears that the day after I was at the -Forks (which day I spent, by the way, with -Mr. Fleming, riding round the country, -returning afterward by the trail which led -from the Black Cañon down to my house) -Siwash Jim, who had to all appearance -recovered from the injuries, which, however, -were only bruises, that I had inflicted on him, -began to drink early in the morning. He -had, so Dave says, quite an unnatural power -of keeping sober—and Dave himself can -drink more than any two men I am acquainted -with, unless it is Mac, my old partner, so he -ought to know. And though Jim drank -hard, he did not become drunk, but only -abused me. He called me all the names -from coyote upward and downward which -a British Columbian of any standing has at -his tongue's end, and when Jim had exhausted -the resources of the fertile American -language, he started in Siwash or Indian, in -which there are many choice terms of abuse. -But in spite of his openness, Dave says -it was quite evident he was dangerous, and -that I might really have been in peril at any -time of the day if I had come to town, for -Jim was deemed a bad character among his -companions, and had, so it was said, killed -one man at least, though he had never been -tried for it. But though he sat all day in the -bar, using my name openly, he never made -a move till eight in the evening, when he -went out for awhile. -</p> - -<p> -When he returned he was accompanied by -a thin dark man, wearing a slouch hat over -his eyes, whom Dave took to be a half-breed -of some kind, and they had drinks together, -for which the stranger paid, speaking in good -English, but not with a Western accent. -Then the two went to the other side of the -room. What their conversation was, no one -knows exactly, nor did I ever learn; but -Dave, who was keeping his eye on Jim, says -that it seemed as if the stranger was trying -to persuade Jim to be quiet and stay where -he was, and from what occurred afterward -there is little doubt his supposition was -correct. Moreover, my name undoubtedly -occurred in this conversation, for Dave heard -it, and the name of my ranch as well. Soon -after that some men came in, and, in consequence -of his being busy, Dave did not see -Jim go out. But Conlan's stableman says -Jim came to the stable with the stranger and -got his horse. When asked where he was -going, he said for a ride, and would answer -no more questions. And all the time the -strange man tried to persuade him not to go, -and to come and have another drink. If Jim -had been flush of money there might have -been a motive for this, but as he was not, -there seemed then to be none beyond the -sudden and absurd fondness that men -sometimes conceive for each other when drunk. -But if this were the case, it was only on the -stranger's side, for when the horse was brought -round to the door Jim mounted it, and when -the other man still importuned him not to go, -Siwash Jim struck at him with his left hand -and knocked off his hat as he stood in the -light coming from the bar. And just then -attention was drawn from Jim by a sudden -shriek from the other side of the road where -Conlan's private house stood. When Dave -came out and looked for him again, both he -and the other man had disappeared down the -road, which branched about half a mile out -of town into two forks, one leading eastward -and the other southward to the Flemings'. -</p> - -<p> -Now, as I said before, most of that day I -had been out riding with Mr. Fleming, who -left me early, in order to go to the next ranch -down the road, and I had told him the whole -story about Mat's escape, and my brother's -death; which he agreed with me were hardly -likely to be connected. Yet he acknowledged -if they were I was in much more danger than -one would have thought before, because such -a deed would show the Malay was a desperado -of the most fearless and dangerous -description; and besides, if he had robbed Will, -it was more than likely he knew where I was -from my own letters, or from my address -written in a pocketbook my brother always -carried, and which was missing. Of course, -this conversation made me full, as it were, of -Mat; and that, combined with the unlucky -turn affairs had taken with regard to Elsie, -made me more nervous than I was inclined -to acknowledge to her father. So before I -went to bed, which I did at ten o'clock—for I -was very tired, being still unaccustomed to -much riding—I locked my door carefully, and -put the table against it, neither of which -things I had ever done before, and which I -was almost inclined to undo at once, for it -seemed cowardly to me. Yet I thought of -Elsie, and, still hoping to win her, I was -careful of my life. I went to sleep, in spite of -my nervous preoccupation, almost as soon as -I lay down, and I suppose I must have been -asleep two hours before I woke out of a -horrible dream. I thought that I was on board -ship, in my own berth, lying in the bunk, and -that Mat was on my chest strangling me with -his long lithe fingers. And all the time I -heard, as I thought, the sails flap, as though -the vessel had come up in the wind. As I -struggled—and I did struggle desperately—the -blood seemed to go up into my head and -eyes, until I saw the fiend's face in a red -light, and then I woke. The house was on -fire, and I was being suffocated! As the -flames worked in from the outside, and made -the scorching timbers crack again and again, -I sprang out of bed. I had lain down with -my trousers on, and, seeing at once there -must be foul play for the house to catch fire -on the outside, and at the back too, where I -never went, I drew on my boots, snatched my -revolver up, and leapt at the front window, -through which I went with a crash, uttering -a loud cry as I did so, for a piece of the glass -cut my left arm deeply. As I came to the -ground, I saw a horseman in front of me, and -by the light of the fire, which had already -mounted to the roof of the house, I recognized -Siwash Jim. Then, whether it was that the -horse he rode was frightened at the crash I -made or not, it suddenly bounded into the -air, turned sharp round, and bolted into the -brush, just where the trail came down from -the Black Cañon. As Jim disappeared, I -fired, but with no effect; and that my shot was -neither returned nor anticipated was, I saw, -due to the fact that the villain had dropped -his own six-shooter, probably at the first -bound of his horse, just where he had been standing. -</p> - -<p> -I was in a blind fury of rage, for such a -cowardly and treacherous attack on an -unoffending man's life seemed hardly credible -to me. And there my home was burning, -and it was no fault of his that I was not -burning with it, or shot dead outside my own -door. But he should not escape, if I chased -him for a month. I was glad he had been -forced to take the trail, for there was no -possible outlet to it for miles, so thick was the -brush in that mountainous region. Fortunately, -I now had two horses; and the one in -my stable, which I had only bought from -Fleming a week before, was not the one I -had been riding all that day. I threw the -saddle on him, clinched it up tightly, and led -him out. I carried both the weapons, my -own and Jim's, and I rode up the narrow and -winding path in a blind and desperate fury, -which seldom comes to a man, but it when it -does it makes him careless of his own life -and utterly reckless; and as I rode, in a -fashion I had never done before, even though -I trusted a mountain-bred and forest-trained -horse, I swore that I myself should die that -night, or that Siwash Jim should feel the just -weight of my wrath. But before I can tell -the terrible story of that terrible night I must -return once more, and for the last time, to -Thomson Forks. -</p> - -<p> -I said, some pages back, that attention had -been drawn from Siwash Jim and his strange -companion by a sudden shriek from Ned -Conlan's house. That shriek had been uttered -by Helen, who was still staying with Mrs. Conlan, -as she and her hostess were standing -outside in the dying twilight, and, after -screaming, she had fainted, remaining -insensible for nearly half an hour. When -Dr. Smith, as he called himself—though an -Englishman has natural doubts as to how -the practitioners in the West earn their -diplomas—had helped her recovery, she spoke -at once in a state of nervous excitement -painful to witness. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I saw him—I saw him!" she said, in -an hysterical voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Who, my dear?" asked Mrs. Conlan, in -what people call a comforting way. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is Mr Conlan?" was Helen's -answer. He came into the room in which -she was lying. Helen turned to him at once. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Conlan, I want you to take me out to -my brother-in-law's house—to Mr. Ticehurst's -farm!" -</p> - -<p> -They all exclaimed against her foolishness -and demanded why; while Conlan scratched -his head in a puzzled manner. -</p> - -<p> -"I tell you I must see him to-night, and at -once! For I saw the man who swore to kill him." -</p> - -<p> -The bystanders shook their heads sagely, -thinking she was mad, but Conlan asked if -she meant Siwash Jim. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "it was not Jim." But -she must go, and she would. With an extraordinary -exhibition of strength, she rose and -ordered horses in an imperative tone, saying -she was quite well enough to do as she liked. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Conlan appealed to the doctor, and -he, perhaps being glad to advise against the -opinion of those present, as such a course -might indicate his superior knowledge, said -he thought it best to let her have her own -way. I think, too, that Helen, who seemed -to have regained her strength, had regained -with it her old power of making people do as -she wished. At any rate, Mr. Conlan meekly -acquiesced, and, saying he would drive her -himself, went out to order horses at once. -When the buggy was brought to the door, -Helen got up without assistance, and begged -him to be quick. His wife, who would never -have dared to even suggest his hurrying, -stood aghast at seeing her usually masterful -husband do as he was bid. They drove -off, leaving Mrs. Conlan to prophesy certain -death as the result of this inexplicable -expedition, while the others speculated, more or -less wildly, as to what it all meant. -</p> - -<p> -Conlan told me that Helen never spoke all -the way except to ask how much longer they -were going to be, or to complain of the -slowness of the pace. -</p> - -<p> -"Most women," said Ned, "would have -been scared at the way I drove, for it was -pitch dark; and if the horses hadn't known -the road as well, or better, than I did, we -should have come to grief in the first mile. -But she never turned a hair. She was a -wonderful woman, sir!" -</p> - -<p> -It was already past eleven o'clock when -they got to the top of the hill just above -Fleming's, and from there the light of my -house burning could be distinctly seen, -although the place itself was hidden by a -rise, and Helen pointed to it, nervously -demanding what it was. -</p> - -<p> -"Ticehurst must have been burning -brush," said Conlan, offering the very -likeliest explanation. But Helen said, "No, no," -impatiently, and told him to hurry. Just -then Conlan remembered that he did not -know the road across from Fleming's to my -place, and said so. -</p> - -<p> -"You had better stop at Fleming's, and -send for him. They aint in bed yet, ma'am. -I see their light." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want to see the Flemings; I -want Mr. Ticehurst," said Helen obstinately. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, we must stop at Fleming's," said -Conlan, "if it's only to ask the way. I don't -know the road, and I'm not going to kill you -and myself by driving into the creek such a -night as this." -</p> - -<p> -And Helen was fain to acquiesce, for she -could not do otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached the house Fanny was -standing outside, and as the light from the -open door fell on Helen's pallid face, she -screamed. -</p> - -<p> -"Good Heavens, Mrs. Ticehurst! Is it -you?" she cried—"and you, Mr. Conlan? -Oh, I am so glad!—father's away, and -Mr. Ticehurst's house must be on fire." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Helen, "I thought so. Oh, -oh! he's dead, I know he's dead! I must go -to him! Fanny, dear, can you show us the -way—can you? You must! Perhaps we -can save him yet!" -</p> - -<p> -She frightened Fanny terribly, for her face -was so pale and her eyes glittered so, and for -a moment the girl could hardly speak. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know it by night, Mrs. Ticehurst; -but Elsie does," she said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is she, then?" said Helen eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -"She's gone over there now," cried Fanny, -"for father had not come home; and when -we saw the fire, we were afraid something -had happened, so Elsie took the black horse -and went over. She's there now." -</p> - -<p> -"Then what shall we do?" cried Helen, in -an agony, "he will be killed!" -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Mrs. Ticehurst?" asked -Fanny, trembling all over. "Oh, what is it!" -</p> - -<p> -But she took no notice and sat like a -statue, only she breathed hard and heavily, -and her hands twitched; as she looked -toward my burning home. -</p> - -<p> -"Silence!" she cried suddenly, though -no one spoke. "There is somebody coming." -</p> - -<p> -And the three of them looked into the -darkness, in which there was a white figure -moving rapidly. -</p> - -<p> -"It is Elsie!" screamed Fanny joyfully; -and Helen sprang from the buggy, and stood -in the light, as Elsie exclaimed in wonder at -Fanny's excited voice. -</p> - -<p> -The two women stood face to face, looking -in each other's eyes, and then Elsie, who for -one moment had shown nothing but surprise, -went white with scorn and anger. How glad -I should have been to have seen her so, or to -have learnt, even at that moment when I -stood in the greatest peril I have ever known, -that she had ridden over to save or help me, -even though her acts but added a greater -danger to those in which I already stood. -For her deed and her look were the deed and -look of a woman who loves and is jealous. -But it might have seemed to me, had I been -there, that Helen's coming had overbalanced -the scale once more against me, and perhaps -for the last time. I am glad I did not know -that fear until it was only imagination, and -the imaginary canceling of a series of -events, that could place me again in such a -situation. -</p> - -<p> -The two women looked at each other, and -then Elsie turned away. -</p> - -<p> -"Stop, stop!" cried Helen; "what has -happened? Where is Mr. Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -"What is that to you?" said Elsie cruelly, -and with her eyes flaming. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell us, Elsie," said Fanny imploringly. -</p> - -<p> -"I will <i>not</i>!" said her sister—"not to this -woman! Go back, Mrs. Ticehurst! What -are you doing here?" -</p> - -<p> -Helen caught her by the arm, and looked -in her face. -</p> - -<p> -"Girl, I know your thoughts!" she said; -"but you are wrong—I tell you, you are -wrong! You love him——" -</p> - -<p> -"I do not!" said Elsie angrily. "I love -no other woman's lover!" -</p> - -<p> -Surely, though there were two dazed onlookers, -these women were in a state to speak -their natural minds. -</p> - -<p> -"Girl, girl!" said Helen, once more, "I -tell you again, you are wrong! You are -endangering <i>your</i> lover's life. Is he not your -lover, or did you go over there to find out -nothing? I tell you, I came to save him, -and to save him for you—no, not for you, you -are not worth it, though he thinks you -perfection! You are a wicked girl, and a -fool! Come, come! why don't you speak? -What has become of him? Is he over there now?" -</p> - -<p> -Elsie was silent, but yielding. Fanny -spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie—Elsie, speak—answer her! What -happened over there, and where is the horse?" -</p> - -<p> -Elsie turned to her, as though disdaining -to answer Helen. -</p> - -<p> -"Someone set his house on fire, I think; -perhaps it was Jim, and Mr. Ticehurst has -gone after him!" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Helen, as if relieved, "if that -is all! How did you know he is gone—did -you see him, speak to him?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Elsie; "I did not!" -</p> - -<p> -"Then how do you know?" cried Fanny -and Helen, together. -</p> - -<p> -"There was a man there——" -</p> - -<p> -Helen cried out as if she were struck, and -Elsie paused. -</p> - -<p> -"Go on!" the other cried—"go on!" -</p> - -<p> -"And when I came up he was sitting by -the house. I asked him if Mr. Ticehurst was -there——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you fool!" groaned Helen, but only -Fanny heard it. -</p> - -<p> -"And he got up," continued Elsie, "and -said there was no one there, but just as he -was coming from his camp to see what the -fire was, he heard a shot, and when he got to -the house he saw somebody just disappear -up the trail toward the cañon." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you know him?" said Helen, as Elsie -paused to take breath, for when she began to -speak she spoke rapidly, and, conceal it as -she would, it was evident she was in a fearful -state of excitement. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Elsie; "but I think I have seen -him before." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is he, then?" cried Helen, holding -her hand to her heart. "Is he there still?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," cried Fanny, almost joyfully, "you -gave him your horse to go and find Tom, and -help him, didn't you, Elsie?" -</p> - -<p> -And Helen screamed out in a terrible -voice, "No, no! you did not, you did -not—say you did not, girl!" -</p> - -<p> -Elsie, who had turned whiter and whiter, -turned to her suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I did," she cried; "I did give him -the horse." -</p> - -<p> -Helen lifted her hands up over her head -with an awful gesture of despair, and fell on -her knees, catching hold of both the girls' -dresses. But she held up and spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you wretched, unhappy girl!" she -cried. "What have you done—what <i>have</i> -you done? To whom did you give the horse? -I know, I know! I saw him this very -night—the man who swore to be revenged on him -if it were after a century. The man who -nearly killed him once, and who has escaped -from prison. You have given him the means -of killing your lover—you have given Tom -Ticehurst up to Matthias, to a murderer—a -murderer!" -</p> - -<p> -And she fell back, and this time did not -recover herself, but lay insensible, still holding -the girls' dresses with as desperate a clutch -as though she were keeping back from following -me the man who was upon my track that -terrible midnight. But Elsie stooped, freed -her dress, and saying to Fanny, "See to her—see -to her!" ran down to the stable again, -just as her father rode through the higher gate. -</p> - -<p> -And as that girl, who had known -and ridden from her childhood, was saddling -the first one she came to in the stable, I was -riding hard and desperately in the dark -not a quarter of a mile behind Siwash Jim. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The trail upon which we both were ran -from my house, straight up into the mountains -for nearly ten miles, and then followed the -verge of the Black Cañon for more than a -mile farther. When I came up to that place -I stayed for one moment, and heard the dull -and sullen roar of the broken waters three -hundred feet beneath me, and then I rode on -again as though I was as irresistibly impelled -as they were, and was just as bound to cut -my way through what Fate had placed -before as they had been to carve that narrow -and tremendous chasm in the living rock. -And at last I came to a fork in the trail. -If I had not been there before with -Mr. Fleming, I should most likely have never -seen Jim that night, perhaps never again. -But we had stayed at that very spot. The -left-hand fork was the main track, and led -right over the mountains into the Nicola -Valley; while the left and disused one, which -was partially obliterated by thick-growing -weeds, led back through the impassable scrub -and rough rocks to the middle of the Black -Cañon. I had passed that end of it without -thinking, for indeed it was scarcely likely he -would have turned off there. The chances -seemed a thousand to one that Jim would -take the left-hand path, but just because it -did seem so certain, I alighted from my horse -and struck a light. The latest horse track -led to the right hand! He had relied on my -taking the widest path, and continuing in it -until it was too late to catch a man who had -so skillfully doubled on me. I had no doubt -that his curses at losing his revolver were -changed into chuckles, as he thought of me -riding headlong in the night, until my horse -was exhausted, while he was returning the -way I had come. I stopped to think, and -then, getting on my horse, I rode back slowly -to where the trails joined at the edge of the -Cañon. I would wait for him there. And I -waited more than half an hour. -</p> - -<p> -It is strange how such little circumstances -alter everything, for not only would Jim's -following the Nicola trail have resulted in -something very different, but, waiting half an -hour, during which I cooled somewhat and -lost the first blind rage of passion in which I -had set out, set me reflecting as to what I -should do. If I had come up with him at -full gallop I should have shot him there and -then. He would have expected it, and it -would have been just vengeance; but now I -was quietly waiting for him, and to shoot -him when he appeared seemed to me hardly -less cowardly conduct than his own. Then, -if I gave him warning, he would probably -escape me, and I was not so generous as to -let him have the chance. Yet, in after years, -seeing all that followed from what I did, I -think I was more generous than just. I ought -to have regarded myself as the avenging arm -of the law, and have struck as coolly as an -executioner. But I determined to give him -a chance for his life, though giving him that -was risking my own, which I held dear, if -only for Elsie's sake; and so I backed my -horse into the brush, where I commanded -both trails, and, cocking both revolvers, I sat -waiting. In half an hour I heard the tramp -of a horse, though at first I could not tell -from which way the sound came. But at -last I saw that I had been right in my -conjecture, and that my enemy was given into -my hands. My heart beat fast, but my -hands were steady, for I had full command -over myself. I waited until he was nearly -alongside of me, and then I spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Throw up your hands, Siwash Jim!" I -said, in a voice that rang out over the roar -of the waters below us, "or you are a dead man!" -</p> - -<p> -And he threw them up, and as he sat there -I could see his horse was wearied out. If it -had not been, perhaps my voice would have -startled it, and compelled me to fire. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you going to do?" said he, -sullenly peering in my direction, for he could -barely see me against my background of trees -and brush, whereas I had him against the sky. -</p> - -<p> -"I will tell you, you miserable scoundrel!" -I answered. "But first, get off your horse, -and do it slowly, or I will put two bullets -through you! Mind me!" -</p> - -<p> -He dismounted slowly. -</p> - -<p> -"Tie your horse to that sapling, if you will -be kind enough," I said further; "and don't -be in a hurry about it, and don't attempt to -get behind it, or you know what will happen." -</p> - -<p> -When he had done as I ordered, I spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you got any matches?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you have, you villain! The -same you set my house on fire with. Well, -now rake up some brush, and make a little -fire here." -</p> - -<p> -"What for?" said he quickly, for I believe -he thought for a moment I meant to roast -him alive. I undeceived him if that was his idea. -</p> - -<p> -"So that we can see each other," I replied, -"for I'm going to give you a chance for your -life, though you don't deserve it. Where's -your six-shooter?" -</p> - -<p> -"I dropped it," he grunted. -</p> - -<p> -"And I picked it up," said I. "So make -haste if you don't want to be killed with -your own weapon!" -</p> - -<p> -What his thoughts were I can't say, but -without more words he set about making a -fire, soon having a vigorous blaze, by which I -saw plainly enough the looks of fear, distrust, -and hatred he cast at me. But he piled on -the branches, though I checked him once or -twice when I thought he was going too far -to gather them. When there was sufficient -light to illuminate the whole space about us -and the opposing bank of the cañon, I told -him that was enough. -</p> - -<p> -"That will do," I said; "go and stand at -the edge of the cañon!" -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -"You're not going to shoot me like a dog, -and put me down there, are you?" said he, -trembling. -</p> - -<p> -"Like a dog?" said I passionately; "did -you not try to smother me like a bear in his -den, to burn me alive in my own house? Do -as I tell you, or I'll shoot you now and roll -your body in the river! Go!" -</p> - -<p> -And he went as I asked him. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you got any cartridges?" I demanded. -</p> - -<p> -He pointed to his belt, and growled that -he had plenty. -</p> - -<p> -"Then stay there, and I will tell you -what I will do with you. I am going to -empty your revolver, and you can have it -when it is empty. I will get off my horse -and then you can load it again, and when I -see you have filled it, you can do your best -for yourself. Do you hear me?" -</p> - -<p> -He nodded his head, and kept his eyes -fixed on me anxiously, as though not -daring to hope I was going to be so foolish -as my word. But I was, even to the -extent of firing his revolver into the air, -though I had no suspicion of what I was -really doing, nor what such an act would -bring about. -</p> - -<p> -I alighted from my horse, and let him go, -for there was no danger of his running away. -I even struck him lightly, and sent him up -the trail out of the way of accident; and then, -keeping my own revolver pointed at Jim, who -stood like a statue, I raised his in my left -hand. I fired, and the reports rang out over -the hills. I threw Siwash Jim his weapon, -saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Load the chambers slowly, and count as -you do so." -</p> - -<p> -What a fool I was, to be sure, not to have -shot him dead and let him lie! Though I -should not have been free from the dangers -that encompassed me, yet they would have -been fewer, far fewer, and more easily -contended with. But I acted as Fate would -have, and even as I counted I heard Jim -count too, in a strained, hoarse voice—one, -two, three, four, five, six—and he was an -armed man again, armed in the light, almost -half-way between us, that glittered in his -eyes and fell on my face. And it was his life -or mine; his life that was worth nothing, and -mine that was precious with the possibilities -of love that I yet knew not, of love that was -hurrying toward me even then, side by side -with hate and death. -</p> - -<p> -When Jim's weapon was loaded, he turned -toward me with the barrel pointed to the -ground. His eyes were fixed on mine, fixed -with a look of fear and hatred, but hatred -now predominated. I lowered my own -revolver until we both stood on equal terms. -</p> - -<p> -"Look," said I sternly; "you see that -burning branch above the fire. It is already -half burnt through; when it falls, look out -for yourself." -</p> - -<p> -And he stood still, perfectly still, while -behind and under him the flood in the cañon -fretted and roared menacingly, angrily, -hungrily, and the sappy branch cracked and -cracked again. It was bending, bending -slowly, but not yet falling, when Jim threw -his weapon up and fired, treacherous to the -last. But his aim was not sure, no surer -than mine when I returned his shot. As we -both fired again, I felt a sting in my left -shoulder, and the branch fell, slowly, -slowly—ah! as slowly as Jim did, for he sank on his -knees, rolled over sideways, and slipped backward -on the verge of the cañon, its sloping, -treacherous verge. And as he slipped, he -caught a long root disclosed by the falling -earth, and with the last strength of life hung -on to it, a yard below me; as I ran to the -edge, and stopped there, horror-struck. My -desire for vengeance was satisfied, more than -satisfied, for if I could have restored him to -solid ground and life I would have done it, -and bidden him go his way, so that I saw -him no more. For his face was ghastly and -horrible to see; his lips disclosed his teeth -as he breathed through them convulsively, -and his nostrils were widely distended. I -knelt down and vainly reached out my hands. -But he was a yard below me, and to go half -that distance meant death for me as well. I -knelt there and saw him fail gradually; his -eyes closed and opened again and again; he -caught his lower lip between his teeth and -bit it through and through, and then his -head fell back, his hands relaxed, and he was -gone. And I heard the sullen plunge of his -body as it fell three hundred feet into the -waters below. I remained still and -motionless for a moment. What a thing man was -that he should do such deeds! I rose, and a -feeling of sorrow and remorse for this -terrible death of a fellow-creature made me -stagger. I put my hand to my brow, and -then peered over the edge of the cañon. -What was I looking for? Was I looking -into the river of Fate? I took my revolver -and threw it into the cañon, that it should -slay no other man. As it fell it struck a -projecting rock, and, exploding, the echoes in -the narrow space roared and thundered up -the gorge toward the east, where, just beyond -the mountains, the first faint signs of rosy -dawn were written upon the heavens. Was -that an omen of peace and love to me, of a -fairer, brighter day? I lifted my heart -above and prayed it might be so. But it was -yet night, still dark, and the darkest hour is -before the dawn, for as I turned my back to -the cañon and stepped across to the fire which -had lighted poor, foolish, ignorant Jim to his -death, I looked up, and saw before me the -thin face I feared more than all others, and -the wicked eyes of my escaped enemy, -Matthias of the <i>Vancouver</i>. -</p> - -<p> -I have never believed myself a coward, for -I have faced death too often, and but a few -minutes ago I had risked my life in a manner -which few men would have imitated; but -I confess that in the horrible surprise of -that moment, in the strange unexpectedness -of this sudden and most unlooked-for -appearance, I was stricken dumb and motionless, -and stood glaring at him with opened eyes, -while my heart's blood ran cold, For I was -unarmed, by my own act of revulsion and -remorse; and wounded too, for I could feel -the blood trickle slowly from my shoulder -that had been deeply scored by the second -bullet from Jim's revolver. And I was in -the same position that I had put him in, in a -clear space with thick brush on both sides, -through which there was no escape, and in -which there was no shelter but a single tree -to the left of the blazing fire, which was -already gradually crawling in the dry brush. -Surely I was delivered into my enemy's hands, -for he was armed and carried a revolver, -on whose bright barrel the fire glinted -harshly. How long we stood facing each -other I cannot say, but it seemed hours. If -he had but fired then, he might have killed -me at once, for I was unable to move; but -he did not desire that, I could see he did not, -as his hot eyes devoured me and gleamed -with a light of savage joy and triumph. He -spoke at last, and in a curiously quiet voice, -that was checked every now and again with -a sort of sob which made me shiver. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! Mr. Ticehurst," he said slowly, "you -know me? You look as if you did. I am -glad you feel like that. You are afraid!" -</p> - -<p> -I looked at him and answered: -</p> - -<p> -"It is a lie!" -</p> - -<p> -And from that time forward it was a lie, -for I feared no more. -</p> - -<p> -"No," he said, "I think not; you are pale, -and just now you shook. I don't shake, even -after what I have been through. Look at me!" -</p> - -<p> -He pointed his weapon at me, and his -hand was as steady as a rock. He lowered it -again and stroked the barrel softly with his -lean left hand. -</p> - -<p> -"You remember what I said to you," he -went on, "don't you, Thomas Ticehurst? I -do, and I have kept my word. Ah! I have -thought of this many times, many times. -They tortured me and treated me like a dog -in the jail you sent me to; they beat me, -and kicked me, and starved me, but I never -complained, lest my time there should be -longer. And when I lay down at night I -thought of the time when I should kill you. -I knew it would come, and it has. But just -now, when I saw you by the side of your -own grave, looking down, I didn't know -whether it was you or the other man, and I -thought perhaps he had killed you. If it -had been he, I would have killed him." -</p> - -<p> -He paused, and I still stood there with -a flood of thoughts rushing through me. -What should I do? If he had taken his eyes -off mine for but one single moment I would -have sprung on him; but he did not, and -while he talked, I heard the horses champing -their bits in the brush. And cruelest of all, -my own horse moved, and put his head -through the branches and looked at me. -Oh, if I were only on his back! But I did -not speak. -</p> - -<p> -"How shall I kill you?" said Matthias -at last; "I would like to cut you to pieces!" -</p> - -<p> -He paused again, and then another horse -that I had not yet seen moved on the other -side of the trail where he had come up. It -had heard the others, and I knew it must be -the animal he had ridden. It came out of -the brush into the light of the fire, and I -knew it was Elsie's. My heart gave a -tremendous leap, and then stood still. How had -he become possessed of it? I spoke, and in a -voice I could not recognize as my own, so -hoarse and terrible it was. -</p> - -<p> -"How did you get that white horse, you -villain?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me fiercely without at first -seeing how he could hurt me, and then a look -of beast-like, cruel cunning came into his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said he, "I knew her! It was -your girl's horse! How did I get it? -Perhaps you would like to know? You will -never see her again—never! Where is she -now—where?" -</p> - -<p> -He knew as little as I did, but the way he -spoke, and the horrible things he put into his -voice, made me boil with fury. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a lying dog!" I cried, though -he had said nothing that I should be so -wrathful. He grinned diabolically, seeing -how he had hurt me, and then laughed loud -in an insulting, triumphant manner. It was -too much, and I made one tremendous bound -across the fire, and landed within three feet -of him. He fired at the same moment, and -whether he had wounded me or not I did -not know; but the revolver went spinning -two yards off, and we grappled in a death-hug. -</p> - -<p> -I have said that Siwash Jim was a hard -man to beat, but whether it was that I was -weak with my wound or not, I found Matthias, -who was mad with hate and fury, the -most terrible antagonist I had ever tackled. -He was as slippery as an eel, as lithe as a -snake, and withal his grip was like that of -a steel trap. Yet if I could but prevent him -drawing his knife, which was at his belt, I -did not care. I was his match if not in -agility, at least in strength, and I would -never let him go. We were for one moment -still, after we grappled, and I trust I shall -never see anything that looks more like a -devil than his eyes, in which the light of the -fire shone, while he gnashed his teeth and -ground them until the foam and saliva oozed -out of his mouth like a mad dog's venom. -His forehead was seamed and wrinkled, his -cheeks were sucked in and then blown out -convulsively, and his whole aspect was more -hideous than that of a beast of prey. And -then the struggle began. -</p> - -<p> -At first it was a trial of strength, for -although I was so much the bigger, he knew -his own power and the force of his iron -nerves, and he hoped to overcome me thus. -We reeled to and fro, and twice went -through the fire, where I once held him for -an instant with a malicious joy that was -short-lived, for the pain added to his -strength, and he forced me backward, until -I struck the trunk of the tree a heavy blow. -Then we swayed hither and thither, for I -had him by the right wrist and the left -shoulder, not daring to alter my grip on his -right hand, lest he should get his knife. He -held me in the same way, and at last we -came to the very verge of the cañon, and -spurned the tracks that Jim had made in his -agony. For a moment I thought he would -throw us both in, but he had not lost hope. -If he had, that moment would have been my -last. In another second we had staggered to -the fire, and he tried all his strength to free -his right hand. At last, by a sudden wrench -he did it, and dropped his fingers like lightning -on his knife, just as I bent his left wrist -over, and struck him in the face with his -own clenched hand. We both went down; -his knife ripped my shoulder by the very -place that Jim's bullet had struck, and we -rolled over and over madly and blindly, -burning ourselves on the scattered embers, -tearing ourselves on the jagged roots and -small branches, which we smashed, as I -strove to dash him on the ground, and he -struggled to free his arm, which I had -gripped above the elbow, to end the battle at -one blow. But though he once drove the -point more than an inch into the biceps, and -three times cut me deeply, he did not injure -any nerve so as to paralyse the limb. And -yet I felt that I was becoming insensible, so -tremendous was the strain and the excitement, -and I felt that I must make a last -effort, or die. Somehow we rose to our -knees, still grappling, and if I looked a tithe -as horrible as he did, covered with blood, -saliva, and sweat, I must have been horrible -to see. We glared in each other's eyes for one -moment, and then, loosing my hold on his -left arm, I caught his right wrist with both -hands. With his freed hand he struck me -with all his remaining strength full in the -face while I twisted his right wrist with a -force that should have broken it, but which -only compelled him to relinquish the bloody -piece of steel. And then we rolled over -again, and lay locked in each other's arms. -There was a moment's truce, for human -nature could not stand the strain. But I -think he believed I was beaten, and at his -mercy, for he was on top of me, lying half -across my breast, with his face not six inches -from mine. He spoke in a horrible voice, -that shook with hate and pain and triumph. -</p> - -<p> -"I've got you now—and I'll kill you, as I -did your brother!" -</p> - -<p> -Great God! then it was he who had done -it, after all. Better had it been for him to -have held his peace, for that word roused me -again as nothing else could have done, and I -caught his throat with both hands, though -he struck me viciously. I held him as he lay -on top of me, and saw him die. Then I -knew no more for a little while, and as I lay -there insensible, I still bled. -</p> - -<p> -What was it that called me to myself? -Whether it was that my soul had gone out -to meet someone, and returned in triumph, -for I awoke with a momentary feeling of -gladness; or whether it was an unconscious -effort of the brain, in the presence of a new -and terrible danger, I cannot say. All I -know is that, when that spasm of joy passed, -I felt weak and unable to move under the -weight of Matthias, whose protruding eyes -and tongue mocked at me hideously in death, -as though his revenge was even now being -accomplished; and I saw the fiery brush -creeping across the space that lay between -me and the fire Jim had kindled at my bidding. -Was I to die by fire at the last, when -that horrible night was passing and the -dawn was already breaking on the eastern -horizon? For I could not stir, my limbs -were like lead, my heart beat feebly, and my -feet were cold. I lay glaring at the fire, and, -as I did so, I saw that the revolver I had -struck out of Matthias's hand was lying as -far from the fire as the fire was from me. -How is it that there is such a clear intellect -at times in the very presence of death? I -saw then that the shots I had fired from that -weapon had brought my enemy up just in -time, for otherwise he might have been -wearied out or lost; and now I thought if I -could only get to it, to fire it, I might thus -bring help: for what enemies had I left now -save the crawling fire? I might even bring -Elsie. But then, how did the dead villain -who lay across me, choking me still, get her -horse, and what had happened to her in his -hands! I tried to scream, and I sighed as -softly as the vague wind which was impelling -the slow fires toward me. How near -they came!—how near—and nearer yet, like -serpents rearing their heads, spitting -viciously as they came? And then I thought -how slow they were; why did they not come -and end it at once, and let me die? And I -looked at the fires again. They were within -two feet of me, I could feel the heat, and -within eighteen inches of the revolver. I -was glad, and watched it feverishly. But -then the weapon's muzzle was pointed almost -at me. Suppose it exploded, and shot me -dead as it called for help! How strange it -was! I put up my hands feebly and tried -to move the dead body, so as to screen -myself. I might as well have tried to uproot a -tree, for I could barely move my hands. I -looked at the fire again as it crawled on and -on, now wavering, now staying one moment -to lift up its thousand little crests and -vicious eyes, and then stooping to lick up the -grass and the dried brush on which I lay. -But as I glared at it intently, at last it -reached the weapon, and coiled round it -triumphantly as though that had been its -goal, licking it round and round. Would -the flames heat the cartridges enough, and if -they did, where would the bullets go? I -asked that deliriously, for I was in a fever, -and instead of being cold at heart, the blood -ran through me like fire. I thought I began -to feel the fire that was so close to me. I -heard the explosion of the heated weapon. -I was yet alive. "Come, Elsie! come, if -you are not dead—come and save me—come!" I -thought I cried out loudly, but -not even her ear, that heard a sharper sound -afar, could have caught that. Once more and -once again the cartridges fired, and I heard a -crash, saw a horse burst like a flame through -the black brush, and there was a white thing -before my eyes. I looked up and saw Elsie, -my own true love after all, and then I -fainted dead away, and did not recover until -long, long after. -</p> - -<p> -I ask myself sometimes even now, when -those hours that were burnt into my soul -return to my sight like an old brand coming -out on the healed flesh when it is struck -sudden and sharply, whether, after all, my -enemy had been balked of his revenge. To -die one death and go into oblivion is the lot -of all who face the rising sun, and, after a -while, veil their eyes when its last fires sink -in the western sea. But I suffered ten -thousand deaths by violence, by cruel ambush -and torture, by crawling flames and flashing -knives in the interval between my rescue and -my recovery from the fever that my wounds -and the horror of it all brought upon me. -They told me—Elsie herself told me—that I -lay raving only ten days; but it seemed -incredible to me, as I shook my head in a -vague disbelief that made them fear for my -reason. If I had been in the care of strangers -who were unfamiliar to me, I might have -thought myself a worn-out relic of some dead -and buried era, whose monuments had -crumbled slowly to ashes in the very fires -through which my soul had passed, shrieking -for the forgetful dead I had loved. But -though I saw her only vaguely like a spirit -in clouds, or knew her, without sight as I lay -half unconscious, as a beneficent presence -only, I grew gradually to feel that Elsie, who -still lived after the centuries of my delirium, -loved me with the passion I had felt for her. -I say <i>had</i> felt, for I was like a child, and my -desire for her was scarcely more than a -pathetic longing for tenderness of thought -and touch, until the great strength which had -been my pride returned in a flood and -brought passion with it once more. -</p> - -<p> -How strangely that came to pass which -I had foretold in my last talk with Elsie! -I had said, angrily—for I was angered—that -she should one day speak to me, though -she swore she would not, and that she should -implore my pardon. And she did it, she who -had been so strong and self-contained, in the -meekest and dearest way the thoughts of a -maiden could devise. And then she asked -me if I would marry her? Would I marry -her? I stared at her in astonishment, not at -her asking, for it seemed the most natural -thing in the world for her to do, but at the -idiocy of the Question. "I do believe you -love me, Elsie," I said at last, "for I have -heard that love makes the most sensible -people quite stupid. If you were in your -right senses, dear, you would not have asked it——" -</p> - -<p> -"I should think not, indeed!" she broke -in. But she smiled tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -"Because you know very well that I -settled that long enough ago, on board the -<i>Vancouver</i>," I said stoutly. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I had no voice in it?" Elsie said. -</p> - -<p> -"Not the least, I assure you! I made up -my mind." -</p> - -<p> -"And so did I," said Elsie, softly. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, dear?" -</p> - -<p> -She leant her head against my shoulder, -and against my big beard, and whispered: -</p> - -<p> -"I made up my mind, dear Tom, that if -you didn't love me, I would never love -anyone else, but go and be a nun or a nurse all -my life. And that's why I was so hard, you -know!" -</p> - -<p> -Yes, I knew that well enough. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -And where was Helen, meantime? I am -drawing so near the end of my story that -I must say what I have to in a few words. -She had remained at the ranch until the -doctor had declared I was going to recover -(it was no fault of his that I did), and then -she went away. What she told Elsie I have -never known, nor shall I ever ask; but they -parted good friends—yes, the best of -friends—and she returned home to Melbourne. I -never saw her again, at least not to my -knowledge, although once, when Elsie and I -were both in that city—for I returned to my -profession—I thought, nay, for the moment I -made sure, that she had come to know of our -presence there. For Elsie had presents of -fruit and flowers almost every day she was at -Melbourne. I part with her now with a -strange regret, and somehow I have never -confessed to anyone that I was very vexed -at her not waiting until I was well enough -to recognize her before she went. For, you -see, she loved me. -</p> - -<p> -But—and this is the last—the time came -when I was able to go out with Elsie and -Fanny, and though we rode slowly, it did not -need rapid motion to exhilarate me when she -was by my side. As for Fanny, she used to -lose us in the stupidest way, just as if she -had not been brought up in the bush, and -been able to follow a trail like a black fellow. -But when Harmer came out on Sundays, it -was we who lost them, for Fanny used to go -off at full speed, while Jack, who never got -used to a horse for many months, used to -risk his neck to keep up with her. Then she -used to annoy him at night by offering him -the softest seat, which he stoutly refused, -preferring to suffer untold tortures on a -wooden stool, rather than confess. But I -don't think they will ever imitate us, who -got married at last in the autumn at -Thomson Forks. I invited almost everyone -I knew to the wedding, and I made Mac -my chief man, much to Jack's disgust. I -would even have invited Montana Bill, but -he was lying in the hospital with a bullet in -his shoulder; while Hank Patterson could -not come on account of the police wanting -him for putting it there. But half the -population of the Forks had bad headaches -next day; and if I didn't have to wear my -right hand in a sling on account of the -shaking it got, it was because I was as strong -as ever. The only man who looked unhappy -was Mr. Fleming, and he certainly had a -right to be miserable, considering that I had -robbed him of his housekeeper, leaving him -to the tender mercies of flighty Fanny. -And she was so vicious to poor Jack that he -actually dared to say to me, "that if Elsie -had the temper of her sister, he was sorry -for me, and that it was a pity Siwash Jim and -Mat had made a mess of it." When I -rebuked him, he said merrily, "he guessed it -was a free country, and not the poop of the -<i>Vancouver</i>." So I let him alone, being quite -convinced then, and I have never changed -my opinion since, though we have been -married almost five years, that Elsie -Ticehurst is the best wife a man ever had, -and worth fighting for, even against the -world. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The mate of the Vancouver - -Author: Morley Roberts - -Release Date: September 8, 2022 [eBook #68936] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE -VANCOUVER *** - - - - - - - - THE MATE OF THE - VANCOUVER - - - - BY - - MORLEY ROBERTS - - AUTHOR OF "KING BILLY OF BALLARAT," ETC. - - - - NEW YORK - STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS - 238 WILLIAM STREET - - - - - Copyright, 1892, - By CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. - - Copyright, 1900 - By STREET & SMITH - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -PART I. - -On Board the Vancouver - - -PART II. - -San Francisco and Northward - - -PART III. - -A Golden Link - - -PART IV. - -Love and Hate - - -PART V. - -At the Black Cañon - - - - -THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER. - - - -PART I. - -ON BOARD THE VANCOUVER. - -I am going to write, not the history of my life, which, on the whole, -has been as quiet as most men's, but simply the story of about a year -of it, which, I think, will be almost as interesting to other folks -as any yarn spun by a professional novel writer; and if I am wrong, -it is because I haven't the knowledge such have of the way to tell a -story. As a friend of mine, who is an artist, says, I know I can't -put in the foreground properly, but if I tell the simple facts in my -own way, it will be true, and anything that is really true always -seems to me to have a value of its own, quite independent of what the -papers call "style," which a sailor, who has never written much -besides a log and a few love-letters, cannot pretend to have. That -is what I think. - - -Our family--for somehow it seems as if I must begin at the -beginning--was always given to the sea. There is a story that my -great-grandfather was a pirate or buccaneer; my grandfather, I know, -was in the Royal Navy, and my father commanded a China clipper when -they used to make, for those days, such fast runs home with the new -season's tea. Of course, with these examples before us, my brother -and I took the same line, and were apprenticed as soon as our mother -could make up her mind to part with her sons. Will was six years -older than I, and he was second mate in the vessel in which I served -my apprenticeship; but, though we were brothers, there wasn't much -likeness either of body or mind between us; for Will had a failing -that never troubled me, and never will; he was always fond of his -glass, a thing I despise in a seaman, and especially in an officer, -who has so many lives to answer for. - -In 1881, when I had been out of my apprenticeship for rather more -than four years, and had got to be mate by a deal of hard work--for, -to tell the truth, I liked practical seamanship then much better than -navigation and logarithms--I was with my brother in the _Vancouver_, -a bark of 1100 tons register. If it hadn't been for my mother, I -wouldn't have sailed with Will, but she was always afraid he would -get into trouble through drink; for when he was at home and heard he -was appointed to the command of this new vessel, he was carried to -bed a great deal the worse for liquor. So when he offered me the -chief officer's billet, mother persuaded me to take it. - -"You must, Tom," she said; "for my sake, do. You can look after him, -and perhaps shield him if anything happens, for I am in fear all the -time when he is away, but if you were with him I should be more at -ease; for you are so steady, Tom." - -I wasn't so steady as she thought, I dare say, but still I didn't -drink, and that was something. Anyhow, that's the reason why I went -with Will, and it was through him and his drinking ways that all the -trouble began that made my life a terror to me, and yet brought all -the sweetness into it that a man can have, and more than many have a -right to look for. - -When we left Liverpool we were bound for Melbourne with a mixed cargo -and emigrants; and I shouldn't like to say which was the most mixed, -what we had in the hold or in the steerage, for I don't like such a -human cargo; no sailor does, for they are always in the way. -However, that's neither here nor there, for though Will got too much -to drink every two days or so on the passage out, nothing happened -then that has any concern with the story. It was only when we got to -Sandridge that the yarn begins, and it began in a way that rather -took me aback; for though I had always thought Will a man who didn't -care much for women, or, at any rate, enough to marry one, our anchor -hadn't been down an hour before a lady came off in a boat. It was -Will's wife, as he explained to me in a rather shamefaced way when he -introduced her, and a fine-looking woman she was--of a beautiful -complexion with more red in it than most Australians have, two -piercing black eyes, and a figure that would have surprised you, it -was so straight and full. - -She shook hands with me very firmly, and looked at me in such a way -that it seemed she saw right through me. - -"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ticehurst," she said; "I know we -shall be friends, you are so like your brother." - -Now, somehow, that didn't please me, for I could throw Will over the -spanker boom if I wanted to; I was much the bigger man of the two; -and as for strength, there was no comparison between us. -Besides--however, that doesn't matter; and I answered her heartily -enough, for I confess I liked her looks, though I prefer fair women. - -"I am sure we shall," said I; "my brother's wife must be, if I can -fix it so." - -And with that I went off and left them alone, for I thought I might -not be wanted there; and I knew very well I was wanted elsewhere, for -Tom Mackenzie, the second Officer, was making signs for me to come on -deck. - -After that I saw her a good deal, for we were often together, -especially when she came down once or twice and found Will the worse -for liquor. The first time she was in a regular fury about it, and -though she didn't say much, she looked like a woman who could do -anything desperate, or even worse than that. But the next time she -took it more coolly. - -"Well, Tom," she said, "he was to take me to the theater, but now he -can't go. What am I to do?" - -"I don't know," said I, foolishly enough, as it seemed, but then I -didn't want to take the hint, which I understood well enough. - -"Hum!" she said sharply, looking at me straight. I believe I blushed -a little at being bowled out, for I was I knew that. However, when -she had made up her mind, she was not a woman to be baulked. - -"Then I know, Tom, if you don't," she said; "you must take me -yourself. I have the tickets. So get ready." - -"But, Helen!" I said, for I really didn't like to go off with her in -that way without Will's knowing. - -Her eyes sparkled, and she stamped her foot. - -"I insist on it! So get ready, or I'll go by myself. And how would -Will like that?" - -There was no good resisting her, she was too sharp for me, and I went -like a lamb, doing just as she ordered me, for she was a masterful -woman and accustomed to have her own way. If I did wrong I was -punished for it afterward, for this was the beginning of a kind of -flirtation which I swear was always innocent enough on my side, and -would have been on hers too, if Will had not been a coward with the -drink. - -In Melbourne we got orders for San Francisco, and it was only a few -days before we were ready to sail that I found out Helen was going -with us. I was surprised enough any way, for I knew the owners -objected to their captains having their wives on board, but I was -more surprised that she was ready to come. I hope you will believe -that, for it is as true as daylight. I thought at first it was all -Will's doing, and he let me think so, for he didn't like me to know -how much she ruled him when he was sober. However, she came on board -to stay just twenty-four hours before we sailed; the very day Will -went up to Melbourne to ship two men in place of two of ours who had -run from the vessel. - -Next morning, when we were lying in the bay, for we had hauled out -from the wharf at Sandridge, a boat ran alongside just at six -o'clock, and the two men came on board. - -"Who are you, and where are you from?" I asked roughly, for I didn't -like the look of one of them. - -"These are the two hands that Captain Ticehurst shipped yesterday -from a Williamstown boarding house," said the runner who was with -them. - -I always like to ship men from the Sailor's Home, but I couldn't help -myself if Will chose to take what he could get out of a den of -thieves such as I knew his place to be. - -"Very well!" said I gruffly enough. "Look alive, get your dunnage -forward and turn to!" - -One of them was a hard-looking little Cockney, who seemed a sailor -every inch, though there weren't many of them; but the other was a -dark lithe man, with an evil face, who looked like some Oriental -half-caste. - -"Here," said I to the Cockney, "what's your name?" - -"Bill Walker, sir," he answered. - -"Who's the man with you? What is he?" I asked. - -"Dunno, sir," said Walker, looking forward at the figure of his -shipmate, who was just disappearing in the fo'c'sle; "I reckon he's -some kind of a Dago, that's what he is, some kind of a Dago." - -Now, a Dago in sailor's language means, as a rule, a Frenchman, -Spaniard, or Greek, or anyone from southern Europe, just as a -Dutchman means anyone from a Fin down to a real Hollander; so I -wasn't much wiser. However, in a day or two Bill Walker came up to -me and told me, in a confidential London twang, that he now believed -Matthias, as he called himself, was a half-caste Malay, as I had -thought at first. But I was to know him better afterward, as will be -seen before I finish. - -Now, it is a strange thing, and it shows how hard it is for a man not -accustomed to writing, like myself, to tell a story in the proper -way, that I have not said anything of the passengers who were going -with us to San Francisco. I could understand it if I had been -writing this down just at the time these things happened, but when I -think that I have put the Malay before Elsie Fleming, even if he came -into my life first, I am almost ready to laugh at my own stupidity. -For Elsie was the brightest, bonniest girl I ever saw, and even now I -find it hard not to let the cat out of the bag before the hour. As a -matter of fact, this being the third time I have written all this -over, I had to cut out pages about Elsie which did not come in their -proper place. So now I shall say no more than that Elsie and her -sister Fanny, and their father, took passage with us to California, -as we were the only sailing vessel going that way; and old Fleming, -who had been a sailor himself, fairly hated steamboats--aye, a good -deal worse than I do, for I think them a curse to sailors. But when -they came on board I was busy as a mate is when ready to go to sea, -and though I believe I must have been blind, yet I hardly took any -notice of the two sisters, more than to remark that one had hair like -gold and a laugh which was as sweet as a fair wind up Channel. But I -came to know her better since; though in a way different from the -Malay. - -When we had got our anchor on board, and were fairly out to sea, -heading for Bass's Straits, I saw her and Helen talking together, and -I think it was the contrast between the two that first attracted me -toward her, not much liking dark women, being dark myself. She -seemed, compared with Will's wife, as fair as an angel from heaven, -though the glint of her eyes, and her quick, bright ways, showed she -was a woman all over. I took a fancy to her that moment, and I -believe Helen saw it, when I think over what has happened since, for -she frowned and bit her lip hard, until I could see a mark there. -But I didn't know then what I do now, and besides, I had no time to -think about such things just then, for we were hard at it getting -things shipshape. - -Tom Mackenzie, the second officer, and a much older man than -myself--for he had been to sea for seventeen years before he took it -into his head to try for his second mate's ticket--came up to me when -the men were mustered aft. - -"Mr. Ticehurst," said he gruffly, "I should be glad if you'd take -that Malay chap in your watch, for I have two d--d Dagos already, who -are always quarreling, and if I have three, there will be bloodshed -for sure. I don't like his looks." - -"No more do I," I answered; "but I don't care for his looks. I've -tamed worse looking men; and if you ask it, Mackenzie, why I'll have -him and you can take the Cockney." - -I think this was very good of me, for Bill Walker, I could see, was a -real smart hand, and a merry fellow, not one of those grumblers who -always make trouble for'ard, and come aft at the head of a deputation -once a week growling about the victuals. But Mackenzie was a good -sort, and though he was under me, I knew that for practical -seamanship--though I won't take a back seat among any men of my years -at sea--he was ahead of all of us. So I was ready to do him a good -turn, and it was true enough he had two Greeks in his watch already. - -When we had been to sea about a week, and got into the regular -routine of work, which comes round just as it does in a house, for it -is never done, Will got into his routine, too, and was drunk every -day just as regular as eight bells at noon. Helen came to me, of -course. - -"Tom, can't you do something?" she said, with tears in her eyes, the -first time I ever saw them there, though not the last. "It is -horrible to think of his drinking this way! And then before those -two girls--I am ashamed of myself and of him! Can't you do anything?" - -"What can I do, Helen?" I asked. "I can't take it from him; I can't -stave the liquor, there's too much of it; besides, he is captain, if -he is my brother, and I can't go against him." - -"But can't you try and persuade him, Tom?" and she caught my arm and -looked at me so sorrowfully. - -"Haven't I done it, Helen!" I answered. "Do you think I have seen -him going to hell these two years without speaking? But what good is -it--what good is it?" - -She turned away and sat down by Elsie and Fanny, while just -underneath in the saloon Will was singing some old song about "Pass -the bottle round." He did, too, and it comes round quick at a party -of one. - -I can see easily that if I tell everything in this way I shall never -finish my task until I have a pile of manuscript as big as the log of -a three years' voyage, so I shall have to get on quickly, and just -say what is necessary, and no more. And now I must say that by this -time I was in love with Elsie Fleming, in love as much as a man can -be, in love with a passion that trial only strengthened, and time -could not and cannot destroy. It was no wonder I loved her, for she -was the fairest, sweetest maid I ever saw, with long golden hair, -bright blue eyes that looked straight at one, but which could be very -soft too sometimes, and a neat little figure that made me feel, great -strong brute that I was, as clumsy as an ox, though I was as quick -yet to go aloft as any young man if occasion called for the mate to -show his men the way. And when we were a little more than half -across the Pacific to the Golden Gate, I began to think that Elsie -liked me more than she did anyone else, for she would often talk to -me about her past life in sunny New South Wales, and shiver to think -that her father might insist on staying a long time in British -Columbia, for he was going to take possession of a farm left him by -an old uncle near a place called Thomson Forks. - -It was sweet to have her near me in the first watch, and I cursed -quietly to myself when young Jack Harmer, the apprentice, struck four -bells, for at ten o'clock she always said, "Good-night, Mr. -Ticehurst. I must go now. How sleepy one does get at sea! Dear me, -how can you keep your eyes open?" And when she went down it seemed -as if the moon and stars went out. - -When it was old Mackenzie's first watch I was almost fool enough to -be jealous of her being with him then, though he had a wife at home, -and a daughter just as old as Elsie, and he thought no more of women, -as a rule, than a hog does of harmony, as I once heard an American -say. Still, when I lay awake and heard her step overhead, for I knew -it well, I was almost ready to get up then and there and make an -unutterable fool of myself by losing my natural sleep. - -And now I am coming to what I would willingly leave out. I hope that -people won't think badly of me for my share in it, for though I was -not always such a straight walker in life as some are, yet I would -not do what evil-minded folks might think I did. Somehow I have a -difficulty in putting it down, for though I have spoken of it -sometimes sorrowfully enough to one who is very dear to me, yet to -write it coolly on paper seems cowardly and treacherous. And yet, -seeing that I can harm no one, and knowing as I do in my heart that I -wasn't to blame, I must do it, and do it as kindly as I can. This is -what I mean: I began to see that Helen loved me more than she should -have done, and that she hated Will bitterly, but Elsie even worse. - -It was a great surprise to me, for, to tell the truth, women as a -general rule have never taken to me very much, and Will was always -the one in our family who had most to do with them. And for my part, -until I saw Elsie I never really loved anyone, although, like most -men, I have had a few troubles which until then I thought -love-affairs. So it was very hard to convince myself that what I -suspected was true, even though I believe that I have a natural -fitness for judging people and seeing through them, even women, who -some folks say do not act from reason like men. However, I don't -think they are much different, for few of us act reasonably. But all -this has nothing to do with the matter in hand. Now, I must confess, -although it seems wicked, that I was a little pleased at first to -think that two women loved me, for we are all vain, and that -certainly touches a man's vanity, and yet I was sorry too, for I -foresaw trouble unless I was very careful, though not all the woe and -pain which came out of this business before the end. - -The first thing that made me suspect something was wrong, was that -Helen almost ceased to keep Will from the bottle, and she taunted him -bitterly, so bitterly, that if he had not usually been a -good-tempered fellow even when drunk, he might have turned nasty and -struck her. And then she would never leave me and Elsie alone if she -could help it, although she was not hypocrite enough to pretend to be -very fond of her. Indeed, Elsie said one night to me that she was -afraid Mrs. Ticehurst didn't like her. I laughed, but I saw it was -true. Then, whenever she could, Helen came and walked with me, and -she hardly ever spoke. It seems to me now, when I know all, that she -was in a perpetual conflict, and was hardly in her right mind. I -should like to think that she was not. - -I was in a very difficult position, as any man will admit. I loved -Elsie dearly; I was convinced my brother's wife loved me; and we were -all four shut up on ship-board. I think if we had been on land I -should have spoken to Elsie and run away from the others, but here I -could not speak without telling her more than I desired, or without -our being in the position of lovers, which might have caused trouble. -For I even thought, so suspicious does a man get, that Helen might -perhaps have come on board more on my account than on Will's. - -All this time we were making very fair headway, for we had a good -breeze astern of us, and the "Islands" (as they call them in San -Francisco), that is the Sandwich Islands, were a long way behind us. -If we had continued to have fine weather, or if Will had kept sober, -or even so drunk that he could not have interfered in working the -ship, things might not have taken the turn they did, and what -happened between me and the Malay who called himself Matthias might -never have occurred. And when I look back on the train of -circumstances, it almost makes me believe in Fate, though I should be -unwilling to do that; for I was taught by my mother, a very -intelligent woman who read a great deal of theology, that men have -free will and can do as they please. - -However, when we were nearing the western coast of America, Will, who -had a great notion--a much greater one than I had, by the way--of his -navigation, began to come up every day and take his observations with -me, until at last the weather altered so for the worse, and it came -on to blow so hard, that neither of us could take any more. Now, if -Will drank enough, Heaven knows, in fine weather, he drank a deal -harder in foul, though by getting excited it didn't have the usual -effect on him, and he kept about without going to sleep just where he -sat or lay down. So he was always on deck, much to my annoyance, for -I could see the men laughing as he clung to the rail at the break of -the poop, bowing and scraping, like an intoxicated dancing master, -with every roll the _Vancouver_ made. - -For five days we had been running by dead reckoning, and as well as I -could make out we were heading straight for the coast, a good bit to -the nor'ard of our true course. Besides, we were a good fifty miles -farther east than Will made out, according to his figures, and I said -as much to him. He laughed scornfully. "I'm captain of this ship," -said he; "and Tom--don't you interfere. If I've a mind to knock -Mendocino County into the middle of next week, I'll do it! But I -haven't, and we are running just right." - -You see, when he was in this state he was a very hard man to work -with, and if we differed in our figures I had often enough a big job -to convince him that he was wrong. And being wrong even a second in -the longitude means being sixty miles out. And with only dead -reckoning to rely on, we should have been feeling our way cautiously -toward the coast, seeing that in any case we might fetch up on the -Farallon Islands, which lie twenty miles west of the Golden Gate. - -On the sixth day of this weather it began to clear up a little in the -morning watch, and there seemed some possibility of our getting sight -of the sun before eight bells. Will was on deck, and rather more -sober than usual. - -"Well, sir," said I to him, for I was just as respectful, I'll swear, -as if he was no relation, "there seems a chance of getting an -observation; shall we take it?" - -"Very well," said he. "Send Harmer here, and we'll wait for a -chance." - -Harmer came aft, and brought up Will's sextant, and just then the -port foretopsail sheet parted, for it was really blowing hard, though -the sun came out at intervals. I ran forward myself, and by the time -the watch had clewed up the sail and made it fast, eight bells had -struck. When I went aft I met Harmer. - -"Did you get an observation!" I asked anxiously, for when a man has -the woman he loves on board it makes him feel worried, especially if -things go as they were going then. - -"Yes, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, "and the captain is working it out -now. But, sir, if I were you I would go over it after him, for two -heads are better than one," and he laughed, being a merry, -thoughtless youngster, and went into his berth. - -However, I did not do what he said, thinking that we should both get -an observation at noon. We were very lucky to do so, for it began to -thicken again at ten o'clock, and we were in a heavy fog until nearly -twelve. And as soon as eight bells was struck, the fog which had -lifted came down again. - -When I got below Will already had the chart out, and was showing the -women where we were, as he said; and when I came in he called me. - -"There, look, Mr. Chief Officer! what did I tell you? Look!" and he -pricked off our position as being just about where he had reckoned. - -I took up the slate he had been making the calculation on, but he saw -me, and snatched it out of my hand. - -"What d'ye mean?" said he fiercely; "what do you want?" and he threw -it on the deck, smashing it in four pieces. I made a sign to Elsie, -and she picked them up like lightning, while Will called for the -steward and some more brandy, and began drinking in a worse temper -than I had ever seen him in. - -When I passed Elsie she gave me the broken bits of slate, and I went -into my cabin, pieced them together, and worked the whole thing out -again. And when I had done it the blood ran to my head and I almost -fell. For the morning observation which Will only had taken was -wrongly worked out. I ran out on deck like lightning, and found it a -thick fog all round us, for all the wind. Old Mackenzie was in the -poop, and he roared out when he saw me: - -"What's the matter, Tom Ticehurst?" - -"Put the ship up into the wind, for God's sake!" I shouted. "And -send a hand up aloft to look out, for the coast should be right under -our bows. We must be in Ballinas Bay." And as he ported the helm, I -rushed back into the cabin and took the chart out again to verify our -position as near as I could. The coast ought to be in sight if the -fog cleared. For we had run through or past the Farallones without -seeing them. - -When I came down the women all cried out at the sight of me, for -though I controlled myself all I could, it was impossible, so sudden -was the shock, to hide all I felt. And just then the _Vancouver_ was -coming into the wind, the men were at the lee braces, and as she -dived suddenly into the head seas, her pitches were tremendous. It -seemed to the women that something must be wrong, while Will, who, -seaman-like, knew what had happened, though mad with drink, rushed on -deck with a fierce oath. I dropped the chart and ran after him; yet -I stayed a moment. - -"It will be all right," I said to the women; "but I can't tell you -now." And I followed Will, who had got hold of old Mackenzie by the -throat, while the poor fellow looked thunderstruck. - -"What the devil are you doing?" he screamed. "Why don't you keep the -course? Man the weather-braces, you dogs, and put the helm up!" - -But no one stirred; while Tom Mackenzie, seeing me there, took Will -by the wrists and threw him away from him. I caught him as he fell, -roaring, "Mutiny! Mutiny!" - -"It's no mutiny!" I shouted, in my turn; "if we keep your course we -shall be on the rocks in half an hour. I tell you the land is dead -to loo-ard, aye, and not five miles off." - -But it was less than that, for just then it cleared up a little. And -the lookout on the foreyard shouted, "Land on the lee-bow!" Then he -cried out, "Land right ahead!" Whether Will heard him or not, I -don't know, but he broke away from me and fell, rather than went, -down the companion, and in a moment I heard the women scream. - -I caught Mackenzie by the arm. - -"It's for our lives, and the lives of the women? He's gone for his -revolver! I shall take command!" - -And I sprang behind the companion like lightning. And just in time, -for, as Will came up, I saw he was armed, and I jumped right on his -back. His revolver went off and struck the taffrail; the next moment -I had kicked it forward to where Mackenzie was standing, and grasped -Will by the arms. - -I had never given him credit for the strength he showed, but then he -was mad, mad drunk, and it was not till Walker and Matthias--for all -hands were on deck by this time--came to help me that I secured him. -In the struggle Will drew back his foot and kicked the Malay in the -face, and as he rose, with the evilest look I ever saw on a man's -countenance, he drew his knife instinctively. With my left hand I -caught his wrist and nearly broke it, while the knife flew out of his -hand. And then, even by that simple action, I saw that I had made an -enemy of this man, whom up to this time I had always been kind to and -treated with far more consideration than he would have got from rough -old Mac. But this is only by the way, though it is important enough -to the story. - -I had to tie Will's hands, and all the time he foamed at the mouth, -ordering the crew to assist him. - -"I'll have you hung, you dogs, all of you!" he shrieked, while the -three women stood on the companion-ladder, white and trembling with -fear. - -It was with great trouble that we got him below, and when he was -there I shut him in his berth, and sent the two stewards in with him -to see that he neither did himself harm nor got free, and then I -turned my attention to saving the ship and our lives. - -We were in an awfully critical situation, and one which, in ordinary -circumstances, might have made a man's heart quail; but now--with the -woman I loved on board--it was maddening to think of, and made me -curse my brother who had brought us into it. Think of what it was. -Not five miles on our lee-bow there was the land, and we could even -distinguish as we lifted on the sea the cruel line of white breakers -which seemed to run nearly abeam, for the _Vancouver_ was not a very -weatherly ship, and the gale, instead of breaking, increased, until, -if I had dared, I would have ordered sail to be shortened. - -I went to the chart again. Just as I took it, Mackenzie called to -me, "Mr. Ticehurst, there's a big flat-topped mountain some way -inland. I think it must be Table Mountain." Yes, he knew the coast, -and even as I looked at the chart, I heard him order the helm to be -put up. I saw why, for when we had hauled into the wind, we were -heading dead for the great four-fathom bank that lies off Bonita -Point. But there was a channel between it and the land. - -I ran on deck and spoke to Mackenzie. He pointed out on the -starboard hand, and there the water was breaking on the bank. We -were running for the narrow channel under a considerable press of -canvas, seeing how it blew; for all Mac relieved her of when we first -put her into the wind was the main top-gallant sail. And now I could -do nothing for a moment but try to get sight of our landmarks, and -keep sight of them, for the weather was still thick. - -Fortunately, as it might have seemed for us, the chain-cables had -already been ranged fore and aft on the deck, and I told Mackenzie to -see them bent on to the anchors, and the stoppers made ready. Yet I -knew that if we had to anchor, we were lost; in such a gale it could -only postpone our fate, for they would come home or part to a dead -certainty. - -Mackenzie and I stood together on the poop watching anxiously for the -right moment to haul our wind again. - -"What do you think of it, Mr. Mackenzie?" I said, as I clung on to a -weather backstay. "Where do you think we shall be in half an hour?" - -"I don't think I shall ever see Whitechapel again, sir," he answered -quietly, and I knew he was thinking of home, of his wife and his -daughter. "She will go to leeward like a butter-cask in this sea; -and now look at the land!" And he pointed toward the line of -breakers on the land, which came nearer and nearer. We waited yet a -few minutes, and then I looked at Mackenzie inquiringly. "Yes, I -think so, sir," he said, and with my hand I motioned the men at the -wheel to put the helm down again. As she came into the wind the -upper foretopsail blew out of the boltropes, while the vessel -struggled like a beaten hound that is being dragged to execution, and -shivered from stem to stern. For the waves were running what -landsmen call mountains high; she now shipped a sea every moment, -which came in a flood over the fo'c'sle head; and pouring down -through the scuttle, the cover of which had been washed overboard, it -sent the men's chests adrift in the fo'c'sle and washed the blankets -out of the lower bunks. And to windward the roar of the breakers on -the bank was deafening. I went below just for a moment. I knew I -had no right to go there, my place was on deck, but could not help -myself. I must see Elsie once more before we died, for if the vessel -struck, the first sea that washed over her might take me with it, and -we should never see each other again on earth. But the two sisters -were not in the saloon. I stepped toward their berth, and Helen met -me, rising up from the deck, where she had been crouching down in -terror. - -I have said she was beautiful; and so she was when she smiled, and -the pleasant light fell about her like sunlight on some strange and -rare tropical flower, showing her rosy complexion, her delicate skin -of full-blooded olive, and her coils of dark and shining hair But I -never saw her so beautiful as she was then, clothed strangely with -the fear of death, white with passion that might have made a weaker -woman crimson with shame, and fiercely triumphant with a bitter -self-conquest. She caught me by the arm. "Tom, dear Tom," she said, -in a wonderful voice that came to me clearly through the howl of the -wind, "I know there is not hope for us. He" (and she pointed toward -her husband's cabin) "has ruined us! I hate him! And, Tom, now it -is all over, and we shall not live! Say good-by to me, say good-by!" - -I stood thunderstruck and motionless, for I knew what she meant even -before she put up her hands and took me round the neck. "Kiss me -once, just once, and I will die--for now I could not live, and would -not! Kiss me!" And I did kiss her. Why, I know not, whether out of -pity (it was not love--no, not love of any kind, I swear) or from the -strong constraint of her force of mind, I cannot say; and as I lifted -my head from hers, I saw Elsie, the woman I did love, looking at me -with shame at my fall, as she thought, and with scorn. I freed -myself from Helen, who sank down on her knees without seeing that she -had been observed, and I went toward Elsie. She, too, was pale, -though not with fear, for perhaps she was ignorant of her danger, but -as I thought with a little feeling of triumph even then, for we are -strange beings, with jealousy and anger. - -"You are a coward and a traitor!" she said, when I reached her. - -"No, no, I am not, Elsie," I answered sharply; "but perhaps you will -never know that I am speaking the truth. But let that be; are you a -brave woman? For---- But where is your father?" - -"With Fanny," she answered, disdainfully even then. - -I called him, and he came out. - -"Mr. Fleming," I said; "you know our position; in a few minutes we -shall be safe or--ashore. Get your daughters dressed warmly; stay at -the foot of the companion with them, and, if it is necessary, come up -when I call you." - -The old man shook hands with me and pointed to Will's wife. I had -forgotten her! - -"Look after her, too," I said, and went to Will's cabin. He was fast -asleep and snoring hard. I could hardly keep from striking him, but -I let him lie. Was it a wonder that a woman ceased to love him? And -I went on deck. - -I had not been absent five minutes, but in that time the wind had -increased even more, the seas seemed to have grown heavier, the decks -were full of water, and the fatal wake was yet broader on the -weather-quarter. All the men were aft under the break of the poop, -and most of them, thinking that we must go ashore, had taken off -their oilskins and sea-boots ready for an effort to save themselves -at the last. Even in the state of mind that I was in then, I saw -clearly, and the strange picture they presented--wet through, some -with no hats on, up to their knees in water, for the decks could not -clear themselves, though some of the main deck ports were stove in -and some out in the bulwarks--remains vividly with me now. Among -them stood Matthias, with a red handkerchief over his head, and a -swelled cheek, where Will had struck him. By his side was Walker, -the only man in the crowd who seemed cheerful, and he actually -smiled. Perhaps he was what the Scotch called "fey." - -Suddenly Mackenzie called me loudly. - -"Look sir, look! There is the point, the last of the land! It's -Bonita Point, if I know this coast at all!" - -I sprang into the weather mizzen rigging, and the men, who had -noticed the second mate's gestures, did the same at the main. I -could see the Point, and knew it, and I knew if we could only weather -it we could put the helm up and run into San Francisco in safety. -Just then Harmer, who was as cool as a cucumber, struck four bells, -and Matthias and a man called Thompson, an old one-eyed sailor, came -up to relieve the wheel. - -The point which we had to weather was about as far from us as the -land dead to leeward, and it was touch and go whether we should clear -it or not. The _Vancouver_ made such leeway, closehauled, that it -seemed doubtful, and I fancied we should have a better chance if I -freed her a little, to let her go through the water faster. Yet it -was a ticklish point, and one not to be decided without thought in a -situation which demanded instant action. - -"What think you, Mac," said I hurriedly; "shall we ease her half a -point?" - -He nodded, and I spoke to the men at the wheel, and as I did so I -noticed the Malay's face, which was ghastly with fear, although he -seemed steady enough. But I thought it best to alter the way they -stood, for the Englishman had the lee wheel. I ordered them to -change places. - -"What's that for, sir?" said Matthias, almost disrespectfully. I -stared at him. - -"Do as you are told, you dog!" I answered roughly, for I had no time -to be polite. "I don't like your steering. I have noticed it -before." - -When the course was altered she got much more way on her, but neared -the land yet more rapidly. I called the men on to the poop, for I -had long before this determined not to chance the anchors, and looked -down into the saloon to see if the women were there. - -As I did so Mr. Fleming called me. - -"If I can be of any use, Mr. Ticehurst, I am ready." - -"I think not, Mr. Fleming," I replied as cheerfully as possible; "we -shall be out of danger in a few minutes--or on the rocks," I added to -myself, as I closed the hatch. - -It was a breathless and awful time, and I confess that for a few -moments I forgot the very existence of Elsie, as I calculated over -and over again the chances as we neared the Point. It depended on a -hair, and when I looked at Mackenzie, who was silent and gloomy, I -feared the worst. Yet it shows how strangely one can be affected by -one's fellows that when I saw Harmer and Walker standing side by side -their almost cheerful faces made me hope, and I smiled. But we were -within three cables' length of the Point, and the roar of the -breakers came up against the wind until it deafened us. I watched -the men at the wheel, and I saw Matthias flinch visibly as though he -had been struck by a whip. I didn't know why it was, I am not good -at such things, but I took a deeper dislike to him that moment than I -had ever had, and I stepped up to him. Now in what followed perhaps -I myself was to blame, and yet I feel I could not have acted -differently. Perhaps I looked threatening at him as I approached, -but at any rate he let go the wheel and fell back on the gratings. -With an angry oath I jumped into his place, struck him with my heel, -and then I saw Walker make a tremendous spring for me, with an -expression of alarm in his face, as he looked beyond me, that made me -make a half turn. And that movement saved my life. I felt the knife -of Matthias enter my shoulder like a red-hot iron, and then it was -wrenched out of his hand and out of the wound by Walker. - -In a moment the two were locked together, and in another they were -separated by Mackenzie and the others; and Walker stood smiling with -the knife in his hand. Although the blood was running down my body, -I did not feel faint, and kept my eye fixed on the course kept by the -_Vancouver_, while Mackenzie held me in his arms, and Harmer took the -lee wheel from me. - -"Luff a little!" I cried, for we were almost on the Point, and I saw -a rock nearly dead ahead. "Luff a little!" and they put the helm -down on a spoke or two. - -The moments crawled by, and the coast crawled nearer and nearer, as I -began to feel I was going blind and fainting. But I clung to life -and vision desperately, and the last I saw was what I can see now, -and shall always see as plainly, the high black Point with its ring -of white water crawl aft and yet nearer, aft to the foremast, aft to -the mainmast and then I fell and knew no more. For we were saved. - -When I came to, we were before the wind, and I lay on a mattress in -the cabin. Near me was Elsie, and by her Helen, who was as white as -death. Both were watching me, and when I opened my eyes Helen fell -on her knees and suddenly went crimson, and then white again, and -fainted. But Elsie looked harder and sterner than I had ever seen -her. I turned my face away, and near me I saw another mattress with -a covered figure on it, the figure of a dead man, for I knew the -shape. In my state of faintness a strange and horrible delirium took -possession of me. It seemed as if what I saw was seen only by -myself, and that it was a prophecy of my death. I fainted again. - -When I came to we were at anchor in San Francisco Bay, and a doctor -from the shore was attending to me, while Mackenzie stood by, smiling -and rubbing his hands as if delighted to get me off them. I looked -at him and he knelt down by me. - -"Mackenzie, old man," I whispered, "didn't I see somebody dead here?" - -"Aye, poor chap," he answered, brushing away a tear; "it was poor -Walker." - -"Walker!" I said. "How was that?" - -"Accident, sir," said old Mac. "Just as we rounded the Point and you -fainted, the old bark gave a heavy roll as we put her before the -wind, and Walker, as he was standing with that black dog's knife in -his hand, slipped and fell. The blade entered his body, and all he -said after was, 'It was his knife after all. He threatened to do for -me yesterday.'" - -"Where's Will?" I asked, when he ended, for I was somehow anxious to -save my brother's credit, and I shouldn't have liked to see him -dismissed from the ship. - -"He's on deck now, as busy as the devil in a gale of wind," growled -Mackenzie. "'Tis he that saved the ship. Oh, he's a mighty -man!--but I don't sail with him no more." - -However, he altered his mind about that. - -Now, it has taken me a long time to get to this point, and perhaps if -I had been a better navigator in the waters of story-telling I might -have done just what Will didn't do, and have missed all the trouble -of beating to windward to get round to this part of my story. I -might have put it all in a few words, perhaps, but then I like people -to understand what I am about, and it seems to me necessary. If it -isn't, I dare say someone will tell me one of these days. At any -rate, here I have got into San Francisco, a city I don't like by the -way, for it is a rascally place, managed by the professional -politicians, who are the worst men in it; I had been badly wounded, -and the Malay was in prison, and (not having money) he was likely to -stay there. - -I was in the hospital for three weeks, and I never had a more -miserable or lonely time. If I had not been stronger in constitution -than most men I think I should have died, so much was I worried by my -love for Elsie, who was going away thinking me a scoundrel, who had -tried to gain the love of my brother's wife. Of course she did not -come near me, though I knew the Flemings were still in the city. I -learnt so much from Will, who had the grace to come and see me, -thanking me, too, for having saved the _Vancouver_. - -"You must get well soon, Tom," said he, "for I need you very much -just now." - -I kept silence, and he looked at me inquiringly. - -"Will," I said at length, "I shall never I sail with you again--I -can't do it." - -"Why not?" he cried, in a loud voice, which made the nurse come up -and request him to speak in a little lower tone. "Why not? I can't -see what difference it will make, anything that has occurred." - -No, he did not see, but then he did not know. How could I go in the -ship again with Helen? Besides, I had determined to win Elsie for my -wife, and how could I do that if I let her go now, thinking what she -did of me? - -"Well, Will, I can't go," said I once more; "and I don't think I -shall go to sea again, I am sick of it." - -Will stared, and whistled, and laughed. - -"Ho!" said he; "I think I see how the land lies. You are going to -settle in British Columbia, eh? You are a sly dog, but I can see -through you. I know your little love-affair; Helen told me as much -as that one day." - -"Well, then, Will," I answered wearily, for I was out of heart lying -there, "if you know, you can understand now why I am not going to -sail with you. But, Will," and I rose on my elbow, hurting myself -considerably as I did so, "let me implore you not to drink in future. -Have done with it. It will be your ruin and your wife's--aye, and if -I sailed with you, mine as well. Give me your hand, and say you will -be a sober man for the future, and then I shall be content to go -where I must go--aye, and where I will go." - -He gave me his hand, that was hot with what he had been drinking even -then (it was eleven in the morning), and I saw tears in his eyes. - -"I will try, Tom," he muttered; "but----" - -I think that "but" was the saddest word, and the most prophetic, I -ever heard on any man's lips. I saw how vain it was, and turned -away. He shook hands, and went without saying more than "Good-by, -Tom." I saw him twice after that, and just twice. - -By the time I was out of the hospital the _Vancouver_ was ready to go -to sea, being bound to England; and she might have sailed even then, -only it was necessary for Tom Mackenzie and one or two others to -remain as witnesses when they tried Matthias for stabbing me. I -shall not go into a long description of the trial, for I have read in -books of late so many trial scenes that I fear I should not have the -patience to give details, which, after all, are not necessary, since -the whole affair was so simple. And yet, what followed afterward -from that affair I can remember as brightly and distinctly as if in a -glass--the look of the dingy court, the fierce and revengeful eyes of -Matthias, who never spoke till the last, and the appearance of Helen -and Fanny (Elsie was not there)--when the judge after the verdict -inflicted a sentence of eighteen months' hard labor on the prisoner. -Perhaps he had been in prison before, and knew what it meant, or it -was simply the bitter thought of a revengeful Oriental at being -worsted by his opponent; but when he heard the sentence, he leant -forward and grasped the rail in front of him tightly, and spoke. His -skin was dark and yet pallid, the perspiration stood in beads on his -forehead, he bit his lips until blood came, while his eyes looked -more like the eyes of a human beast than those of a man. This is -what he said as he looked at me, and he spoke with a strange -intensity which hushed all noise. - -"When I come out of jail I will track you night and day, wherever you -go or whatever you do to escape me. Though you think I do not know -where you are, I shall always be seeking for you, and at last I shall -find you. If a curse of mine could touch you, you should rot and -wither now, but the time will come when my hand shall strike you -down!" - -Such was the meaning of what he said, although it was not put exactly -as I have here written it down; and if I confess, as I should have to -do at last before the end of this story comes, that the words and the -way they were spoken--spoken so vehemently and with so fixed a -resolution--made me shiver and feel afraid in a way I had never done -before, I hope nobody will blame me; but I am sure that being in love -makes a coward of a man in many ways, and in one moment I saw myself -robbed of life and love just at their fruition. I beheld myself -clasping Elsie to my bosom, having won from her at last an avowal of -her love, and then stabbed or shot in her arms. Ah! it was dreadful -the number of fashions my mind went to work, in a quick fever of -black apprehension, to foretell or foresee my own possible doom. I -had never thought myself cowardly, but then I seemed to see what -death meant better than I had ever done; and often the coward is what -he is, as I think now, from a vivid imagination, which so many of us -lack. I went out of the court in a strange whirl, for you see I had -only just recovered. If I had been quite well I might have laughed -instead of feeling as I did. But I did not laugh then. - -Now, on the next morning the _Vancouver_ was to leave the harbor, -being then at anchor off Goat Island. All the money that was due to -me I had taken, for Will had given me my discharge, and I sent home -for what I had saved, being quite uncertain what I should do if I -followed Elsie to British Columbia. And that night I saw the last of -Will, the last I ever saw, little thinking then how his fate and mine -were bound up together, nor what it was to be. Helen was with him, -and I think if he had been sober or even gentle with her in his -drink, she would have never spoken to me again as she did on that day -when she believed that life was nearly at its end for both of us. -But Will, having finished all his business, had begun to drink again, -and was in a vile temper as we sat in a room at the American Exchange -Hotel, where I was staying. Helen tried to prevent his drinking. - -"Will," she said, in rather a hard voice from the constraint she put -on herself, "you have had enough of drink, we had better go on board." - -"Go on board yourself," said he, "and don't jaw me! I wish I had -left you in Australia. A woman on board a ship is like a piano in -the fo'c'sle. Come and have a drink, Tom." - -"No, thank you," I said; "I have had quite enough." - -And out he went, standing drinks at the bar to half a dozen, some of -whom would have cut his throat for a dollar, I dare say, by the looks -of them. Then Helen came over and sat down by me. - -"I have never spoken to you, Tom," she began, and then she stopped, -"since--you know, since that dreadful day outside there," and she -pointed, just like a woman who never knows the bearings of a place -until she has reckoned out how the house points first, to the East -when she meant the West, "and now I feel I must, because I may never -have the chance again." - -She took out her handkerchief, although she was dry-eyed, and twisted -it into a regular ground-swell knot, until I saw the stuff give way -here and there. She seemed unable to go on, and perhaps she would -not have said more if we hadn't heard Will's voice, thick with drink, -as he demanded more liquor. - -"Hear him!" she said hurriedly, "hear the man who is my husband! -What a fool I was! You don't know, but I was. And I am his wife! -Ah! I could kill him! I could! I could!" - -I was horrified to see the passion she was in; it seemed to have a -touch of real male fury in it, just as when a man is trying to -control himself, feeling that if one more provocation is given him he -will commit murder, for she shook and shivered, and her voice was -strangely altered. - -And just then Will came back, demanding with an oath if she was ready -to go. She never spoke, but I should have been sorry to have any -woman look at me as she did at him when his eyes were off her. I -shook hands with her and with him, for the last time, and they went -away. - -Next morning, being lonely and having nothing to do I went out to the -park, made on the great sand-dunes which runs from the higher city to -the ocean beach and the Cliff House on the south side of the Golden -Gate. For the sake of a quiet think I went out by the cars, and -walked to a place where few ever came but chance visitors, except on -Sunday. It is just at the bend of the great drive and a little above -the road, where there is a large tank with a wooden top, which makes -a good seat from which one can see back to San Francisco and across -the bay to Oakland, Saucelito, and the other little watering-places -in the bay; or before one, toward the opening of the Golden Gate, and -the guns of Alcatraz Island, where the military prison is. Here I -took my seat and looked out on the quiet beautiful bay and the sea -just breaking in a line of foam on the beach beneath me. The sight -of the ships at anchor was rather melancholy to me, for my life had -been on the sea. It seemed as if a new and unknown life were before -me; and a sailor starting anything ashore is as strange as though -some inveterate dweller in a city should go to sea. There were one -or two white sails outside the Heads, and one vessel was being towed -in; there was a broad wake from the Saucelito ferry-boat, and far out -to sea I saw the low Farallones lying like a cloud on the horizon. -It was beyond them that my new life had begun, really begun; and -though the day was fair, I knew not how soon foul weather might -overtake me, and I knew indeed that it could only be postponed unless -fate were very kind. I don't know how long I sat on that tank -drumming on the hollow wood, as I idly picked up the pebbles from the -ground and threw them down into the road; but at last I saw what I -had partly been waiting for--the _Vancouver_ being towed out to sea. -I had no need to look at her twice; I knew every rope in her, and -every patch of paint, to say nothing of her masts being ranked a -little more than is usual nowadays. I had no glass with me, but I -fancied I could see a patch of color on her poop that was Helen. - -I watched the vessel which had been my home--and which, but for me, -would have been lying a wreck over yonder--for more than an hour, and -then I turned to go home, if I can call an American hotel "home" by -strained politeness, and just then I saw a carriage come along. Now, -I knew as well before I could distinguish them that Elsie, Fanny, and -her father were in that carriage, as I did that Helen was on board -the _Vancouver_; and I sat down again feeling very faint--I suppose -from the effects of my wound, or the illness that came from it. The -carriage had almost passed beneath me--and I felt Elsie saw me, -though she made no sign--before Mr. Fleming caught sight of me. - -"Hi! stop!" he called, and the driver drew up. "Why, Mr. Ticehurst, -is that you? I thought the _Vancouver_ had gone? Besides, how does -a mate find time to be out here? Things must have changed since I -was at sea. Come down! Come down!" - -I did so, and shook hands with them all, though Elsie's hand lay in -mine like a dead thing until she drew it away. - -"The _Vancouver_ has gone, Mr. Fleming," said I; "and there she -is--look!" - -They all turned, and Elsie kept her eyes fixed on it when the others -looked at me again. - -"Well," said Fleming, "what does it all mean? Where are you going? -Back to town? That's right, get in!" And without more ado the old -man, who had the grip of a vise, caught hold of me, and in I came -like a bale of cotton. "Drive on!" - -"Now then," he went on, "you can tell us why you didn't go with them." - -I paused a minute, watching Elsie. - -"Well, Mr. Fleming," I said at last, "you see I didn't quite agree -with my brother." - -"H'm!--calls taking the command from the captain not quite agreeing -with him," chuckled Fleming; "but I thought you made it up, didn't -you?" - -"Yes, we made it up, but I wouldn't sail with him any more. I had -more than one reason." - -Again I looked at Elsie, and she was, I thought, a little pleasanter, -though she did not speak. But Fanny pinched her arm, I could see -that, and looked roguishly at me. However, Mr. Fleming, did not -notice that byplay. - -"Well," he said, a trifle drily as I fancied, "I won't put you -through your catechism, except to ask you in a fatherly kind of way" -(Elsie looked down and frowned) "what you are going to do now. I -should have thought after what that rascal of a half-bred Malay, or -whatever he is, said, that you would have left California in a hurry." - -"Time enough, Mr. Fleming--time enough. I have eighteen months to -look out on without fear of a knife in my ribs, and I may be in -China, or Alaska, or the Rocky Mountains then." - -You see I wanted to give them a hint that I might turn up in British -Columbia. Fanny gave me a better chance though, and I could have -hugged her for it. - -"Or British Columbia perhaps, Mr. Ticehurst?" she said smiling very -innocently. - -"Who knows," I answered, hastily; "when a man begins to travel, there -is no knowing where he may turn up. I had a fancy to go to Alaska, -though." - -For the way to Alaska was the way to British Columbia, and I did not -want to surprise them too much if I went on the same steamer as far -as Victoria. And in four days I might see what chance I really had -with Elsie. - -"Well," said the father, thoughtfully, "I don't know, and can't give -advice. I should have thought that when a man was a good sailor and -held your position he ought to stick to it. A rolling stone gathers -no moss." - -"Yes," I answered, "but I am tired of the sea." - -"So am I," said Fanny, "and I don't blame you, though you ought to go -with careless captains just on purpose to save people's lives, you -know, Mr. Ticehurst; for you saved ours, and I think some of us might -thank you better than by sitting like a dry stick without saying a -word." - -With this she dug at Elsie with her elbow, smiling sweetly all the -time. - -"Yes," said Elsie, "and there is Mr. Harmer now in the _Vancouver_. -Perhaps she will be wrecked." - -This was the first word she had spoken since I had entered the -carriage, and I recognized by its spite that Elsie was a woman not -above having a little revenge. For poor Fanny, who had flirted quite -a little with Harmer, said no more. - -They put down at their hotel, and I went inside with them. - -"Well," said Fleming, "I suppose we shan't see you again, unless you -do as Fanny says, and turn up in our new country. If you do, be sure -we shall welcome you. And I wish you well, my boy." - -I shook hands with them again, and turned away; and as I did so, I -noticed some of their boxes marked, "Per SS. _Mexico_." Fanny saw me -looking, and whispered quickly, as she passed me, "Tom Ticehurst, go -to Mexico!" and vanished, while Elsie stood in the gaslight for a -moment as if in indecision. But she turned away. - - - - -PART II. - -SAN FRANCISCO AND NORTHWARD. - -I never felt so miserable and so inclined to go to sea to forget -myself in hard work as I did that evening after I had bidden farewell -to Elsie and her people. It seemed to me that she had let me go too -easily out of her life for her to really care for me enough to make -her influence my course in the way I had hoped, and hoped still. -Indeed, I think that if she had not stayed that one undecided moment -after she withdrew her hand from mine, I should have never done what -I did do, but have looked for a ship at once. For, after all, I said -to myself, what could a modest girl do more? Why, under the -circumstances, when she thought me guilty of a deliberate crime, -hateful to any woman, to say nothing of my having made love to her at -the same time, it was really more than I could have expected or -hoped. It showed that I had a hold upon her affections; and then -Fanny thought so too, or she would have never said what she did. "Go -to Mexico!" indeed; if I wasn't a fool, it was not Mexico the -country, but _Mexico_ the steamer she meant. I had one ally, at any -rate. Still, I wondered if she knew what Elsie did, though I thought -not, for she alone kissed Helen when they said good-by, and Elsie had -only given her her hand unwillingly. If I could speak to Fanny it -might help me. But I was determined to go northward, and sent my -dunnage down on board the steamer that very evening. - -In the morning, and early, for I lay awake all that night, a thing I -did not remember having done before, I went down on the Front at the -bottom of Market Street, where all the tram cars start, and walked to -and fro for some hours along the wharves where they discharge lumber, -or ship the coal. It was quite a bright morning in the late autumn, -and everything was pleasant to look upon in the pure air before it -was fouled by the oaths of the drivers of wagons and the jar of -traffic. Yet that same noise, which came dimly to me until I was -almost run over by a loaded wagon, pleased me a great deal better -than the earlier quiet of the morning, and by eight o'clock I was in -a healthy frame of mind, healthy enough to help three men with a -heavy piece of lumber just by way of exercise. I went back to my -room, washed my hands, had breakfast, and went on board the steamer, -careless if the Flemings saw me, though at first I had determined to -keep out of their way until the vessel was at sea. I thanked my -stars that I did so, for I saw Fanny by herself on deck, and when she -caught sight of me she clapped her hands and smiled. - -"Well, and where are you going, Mr. Ticehurst?" said she, nodding at -me as if she guessed my secret. - -"I am going to take your advice and go to Mexico!" I answered. - -"Is it far here? By land do you go, or water?" - -"Not far, Fanny; in fact----" - -"You are----" - -"There now!" said I, laughing in my turn. - -"Oh, I am so glad, Mr. Ticehurst!" said she; "for----" and then she -stopped. - -"For what, Fanny?" I asked. - -"I'm afraid I can't tell you. I should be a traitor, and that is -cowardly." - -"No, Fanny, not when we are friends. If you tell me, would you do -any harm?" - -"No," she answered doubtfully. - -"Then treachery is meant to do harm, and if you don't mean harm it -isn't treachery," I replied coaxingly, but with bad logic as I have -been told since. - -"Well, then, perhaps I'll say something. Now suppose you liked me -very much----" - -"So I do, Fanny, I swear!" - -"No you don't, stupid! How can you? I'm not twins--that is, I and -somebody else aren't the same--so don't interrupt. Suppose you liked -me very much, and I liked you very much----" - -"It would be very nice, I dare say," I said, in a doubtful way that -was neither diplomatic nor complimentary. - -"And suppose you went off, and suppose I didn't speak to my sister -for hours, and kept on being a nasty thing by tossing and tumbling -about all night, so that she, poor girl, couldn't go to sleep; and -then suppose when she did go off nicely, she woke up to find me--what -do you think--crying, what would it mean?" - -"Fanny," I exclaimed, in delight, "you are a dear girl, the very -dearest----" - -"No," she said, "no!" - -"That I ever saw. If there weren't so many folks about, I would kiss -you!" - -And I meant it, but Fanny burst into laughter. - -"The idea! I should like to see you try it. I would box your ears -till they were as red as beetroot. But there, Tom, I am glad you are -coming on this dirty steamer. For I have no one to talk to now but -Elsie, and she won't talk at all." - -However, Fanny's little woes did not trouble me much, for I was -thinking of my own, and wondering how I ought to act. - -"Fanny," said I, "tell me what I shall do. Shall I lie low and not -show up until we are out at sea, or what?" - -"If you don't want them to see you, you had better look sharp, for -they are coming up now, I see Elsie's hat," said Fanny. And I dived -out of sight round the deck house, and by dint of skillful navigation -I got into my bunk without any one seeing me. - -Now, the way Elsie found out I was on board was very curious, and -perhaps more pleasing to Fanny than to her. My bunk was an upper -one, and through the open porthole I could look out on to the wharf. -As I lay there, in a much happier frame of mind than I had known for -many days, I stared out carelessly, watching the men at work, and the -passers-by; and suddenly to my great astonishment, I saw young Harmer -looking very miserable and unhappy. He had left the _Vancouver_, -too, but of course without leave, as he was an apprentice. Now, if I -was surprised I was angry, too. It was such a foolish trick, and I -thought I would give him a talking to at once. I spoke through the -port. - -"You infernal young fool!" said I, "what are you doing here? Why did -you leave your ship?" - -If ever I saw a bewildered face it was Harmer's. For some seconds he -looked everywhere for the voice, and could not locate it either on -the wharf, deck, or anywhere else. - -"You ought to be rope's-ended for an idiot!" I went on, and then he -saw part of my face, but without knowing who I was. He flushed -crimson, and looked like a young turkeycock, with his wings down and -his tail up. - -"Who the devil are you, anyhow," he asked fiercely. "You come out -here and I'll pull your ugly head off!" - -"Thank you," I answered calmly, "my head is of more use to me than -yours is, apparently; and if you don't know my voice, it belongs to -Tom Ticehurst!" - -Harmer jumped. - -"Hurrah! Oh, I'm so glad. I was looking for you, Mr. Ticehurst, and -hunting everywhere." - -"And not for anyone else, I suppose?" I put in, and then I saw him -look up. I knew just as well as he did that he saw Fanny, and I -hoped that Elsie was not with her. But she was. - -"How d'ye do, Miss Fleming?" said he nervously; "and you, Miss Fanny? -I hope you are well. I was just talking to Mr. Ticehurst." - -I swore a little at this, and tumbled out of my bunk, and went on -deck to face the music, as the Americans say, and I got behind the -girls in time to hear the little hypocrite Fanny say sweetly: - -"Oh, Mr. Harmer, you must be mistaken, I'm sure! Mr. Ticehurst if -going to Mexico or somewhere. He can't be here." - -"Miss Fanny," said the boy earnestly, "I tell you he is, and -there--just behind you. By Jove, I am coming on board!" - -And he scrambled up the side like a monkey, as Elsie turned and saw -me. - -I said good-morning to her and we shook hands. I could see she was -nervous, and fancied I could see traces of what Fanny, who talked -hard, had told me. - -"Dear me, Mr. Ticehurst!" said Fanny vigorously. "You didn't shake -hands with me, and see the time it is since we last met! Why, was it -yesterday, or when? But men are so forgetful. I never did like boys -when I was a little girl, and I shall keep it up. Yes, Mr. Harmer, -now I can shake hands, for not having arms ten feet long I couldn't -reach yours over the rail, though you did hold them out like a signal -post." - -Then she and Harmer talked, and I lost what they said. - -"Where is your father, Miss Fleming?" I asked, for though I felt -obliged to talk, I could say nothing but that unless I remarked it -was a fine day. But it had been fine for six months in California. - -"He went ashore, Mr. Ticehurst, and won't be back until the steamer -is nearly ready to go. But now I must go down. Come, Fanny!" - -"What for?" demanded that young lady. "I'm not coming, I shall stay; -I like the deck, and hate the cabin--misty stuffy hole! I shall not -go down; as the pilot told the man in the stupid song: 'I shall pace -the deck with thee,' Mr. Ticehurst, please." - -"Thank you, Fanny," said I; "but I want to talk to Harmer here before -the steamer goes, and if you will go with your sister perhaps it will -be best." - -She pouted and looked about her, and with a parting smile for Harmer, -and a mouth for me, she followed Elsie. I turned to the lad. - -"Now," I began, "you're a nice boy! What does it all mean?" - -"It means that I couldn't stay on the _Vancouver_ if you weren't -there, Mr. Ticehurst. I made up my mind to that the moment I heard -you were leaving. I will go on your next ship; but you know, if you -don't mind my saying it, I couldn't stand your brother; I would -rather be struck by you than called a cub by him. A 'cub,' indeed--I -am as big as he is, and bigger!" - -So he was, and a fine handsome lad into the bargain, with curly brown -hair, though his features were a little too feminine for his size and -strength. - -"Harmer," I said drily "I think you have done it now very completely. -This is my next ship, and I am a passenger in her." - -He didn't seem to mind; in fact, he took it so coolly that I began to -think he knew. - -"That doesn't matter, Mr. Ticehurst," he said cheerfully; "I will -come with you." - -I stared. - -"The devil you will! Do you know where I am going, what I am going -to do?--or have you any plans of your own cut and dried for me?" - -"I don't see that it matters, Mr. Ticehurst," he answered, with a -coolness I admired; "I have more than enough to pay my fare, and if -you go to British Columbia I dare say I can get something to do -there." - -"Ah? I see," I replied; "you are tired of the sea, and would like to -marry and settle down, eh?" - -He looked at me, and blushed a little. - -"All the more reason I should go with you, sir; for then--then--there -would be--you know." - -"What, Harmer?" I asked. - -"A pair of us," he answered humbly. - -"H'm, you are a nice boy? What will your father say if he hears you -have gone off in this way?" - -Harmer looked at me and laughed. - -"He will say it was your fault, sir! But I had better get my dunnage -on board." - -And away he went. - -"Harmer, come back!" I cried, but he only turned, nodded cheerfully, -and disappeared in the crowd. - -On the whole, although the appearance of Harmer added a new -responsibility to those which were already a sufficient burden, I was -not ill-pleased, for I thoroughly liked him, and had parted with him -very unwillingly when I shook his hand on board the _Vancouver_ for -the last time, as I thought then. At any rate, he would be a -companion for me, and if by having to look after him I was prevented -in any measure from becoming selfish about Elsie, I might thank his -boyish foolishness in being unable to prevent himself running after -Fanny, whom, to say the truth, I considered a little flirt, though a -dear little girl. And, then, Harmer might be able to help me with -Elsie. It was something to have somebody about that I could trust in -case of accident. - -It was nearer eleven than ten when the steamer's whistle shrieked for -the last time, and the crew began to haul the warps on board. I -could see that Elsie and Fanny were beginning to think that their -father would arrive too late, when I saw him coming along the wharf -with Harmer just behind him. Up to this time I really believed Mr. -Fleming, with the curious innocence that fathers often show, even -those who from their antecedents and character might be expected to -know better, had never thought of me as being his daughter's lover; -but when he had joined his daughters on the hurricane deck, and -caught sight of Harmer and myself standing on the main, I saw in a -moment that he knew almost as much as we could tell him, and that for -a few seconds he was doubtful whether to laugh or to be angry. I saw -him look at me sternly for a few seconds, then he shook his head with -a very mixed smile on his weather-beaten face, and, sitting down on -the nearest beach, he burst into laughter. I went up the poop ladder -and caught Fanny's words: - -"Why, father, what is the matter with you? Don't laugh so, all the -people will think you crazy?" - -"So I am, my dear, clean crazy," he answered; "because I fancied I -saw Tom Ticehurst and young Harmer down on deck there, and of course -it is impossible, I know that--quite impossible. It was an -hallucination. For what could they want here, I should like to know? -You don't know, of course? Well, well, I am surprised!" - -Just then I came up and showed myself, looking quite easy, though I -confess to feeling more like a fool than I remember doing since I was -a boy. - -"Oh, then you are here, Ticehurst?" said the old man. "It wasn't a -vision, after all. I was just telling Fanny here that I thought I -was going off my head." - -I laughed. - -"Why, Mr. Fleming," I said, "is it impossible that I, too, should go -to Victoria, on my way to Alaska?" - -Fleming looked at me curiously, and almost winked. "Ah! Alaska, to -be sure," said he. "You did speak of Alaska. It must be a nice -place. You will be quite close to us. Come over and give us a call." - -"Thank you for the invitation," I replied, laughing. "I will come to -tea, and bring my young friend with me." - -For Harmer now walked up, shook hands with the old man in the most -ordinary way, and sat down between him and Fanny with a coolness I -could not have imitated for my life. It is a strange thing to think -of the amount of impudence boys have from seventeen to twenty-three -or so; they will do things a man of thirty would almost faint to -attempt, and succeed because they don't know the risk they run. -Harmer was soon engaged in talk with Fanny, and I tried in vain to -imitate him. I found Elsie as cold as ice; I could make no -impression on her and was almost in despair at the very outset. If -Fanny had told me the truth in the morning, then Elsie held a great -command over herself. I soon gave up the attack and retreated to my -berth, where I smoked savagely and was miserable. You can see I did -not understand much about women then. - -The passage from San Francisco to Victoria takes about four days, and -in that time I had to make up my mind what I was going to do. If -what Fanny said were true, Elsie loved me, and it was only that -foolish and wretched affair with Helen that stood in my way. Yet, -could I tell the girl how matters were? It seemed to me then, and -seems to me now, that I was bound in honor not to tell her. I could -not say to her brutally that my brother's wife had made love to me, -and that I was wholly blameless. It would be cowardly, and yet I -ought to clear myself. It was an awkward dilemma. Then, again, it -was quite possible that Fanny was mistaken; if she did not care for -me, it was all the harder, and I could not court her with that mark -against me. Yet I was determined to win her, and as I sat in my -berth I grew fierce and savage in my heart. I swore that I would -gain her over, I would force her to love me, if I had to kill any who -stood in my way. For love makes a man devilish sometimes as well as -good. I had come on board saying, "If I see no chance to win her -before I get to Victoria, I will let her go." And now when we were -just outside the Golden Gate, I swore to follow her always. "Yes, -even if she spurns me, if she mocks, taunts me, I will make her come -to me at last, put her arms round my neck, and ask my forgiveness." -I said this, and unconsciously I added, "I will follow her night and -day, in sunshine and in rain, in health or sickness." - -Then I started violently, for I was using words like those of the -Malay, who was waiting his time to follow me, and for ever in the -daytime or nighttime I knew he was whetting the keen edge of his -hate. I could see him in his cell; I could imagine him recalling my -face to mind, for I knew what such men are. I had served as second -mate in a vessel that had been manned with Orientals and the -off-scourings of Singapore, such as Matthias was, and I knew them -only too well. He would follow me, even as I followed her, and as -she was a light before me, he would be a dark shadow behind me. I -wished then that I had killed him on board the _Vancouver_, for I -felt that we should one day meet; and who could discern what our -meeting would bring forth in our lives? I know that from that time -forward he never left me, for in the hour that I vowed to follow -Elsie until she loved me, I saw very clearly that he would keep his -word, though he had but strength to crawl after me and kill me as I -slept. Henceforth, he was always more or less in my mind. Yet, if I -could win Elsie first, I did not care. It might be a race between -us, and her love might be a shield to protect me in my hour of need. -I prayed that it might be so, and if it could not, then at least let -me win her love before the end. - -For two days I kept out of the Flemings' way, or rather out of the -way of the girls, for Mr. Fleming himself could not be avoided, as he -slept in the men's berth in a bunk close to mine. I believe that the -first day on board he spoke to Elsie about me; indeed I know he did, -for I heard so afterward; and I think it was only on her assurance -that there was and could be nothing between us, that he endured the -situation so easily. In the first place, although he was not rich, -he was fairly well off in Australia; and though the British Columbian -ranch property was not equal in value to that which he had made for -himself, yet it represented a sum of money such as I could not -scarcely make in many years in these hard times. It would hardly be -human nature for a father to look upon me as the right sort of man -for his daughter, especially since I was such a fool as to quit the -sea without anything definite awaiting me on land. So, I say, that -if he had thought that Elsie loved me I might have found him a -disagreeable companion, and it was no consolation to me to see that -he treated me in a sort of half-contemptuous, half-pitying way, for I -would rather have seen him like one of the lizards on the Australian -plains, such as the girls had told me of, which erect a spiny frill -over their heads, and swell themselves out the whole length of their -body until their natural ugliness becomes a very horror and scares -anything which has the curiosity or rashness to approach and threaten -them. - -"What are you going to do in Alaska or British Columbia, Tom?" said -he to me one day. "Do you think of farming, or seal-hunting, or -gold-mining, or what? I should like to hear your plans, if you have -any." And then he went on without waiting for an answer, showing -plainly that he thought that I had none, and was a fool. "And that -young idiot Harmer, why didn't he stick to his ship?" - -"Because he will never stick to anything, Mr. Fleming," I answered, -"though he is a clever young fellow, and fit for other things than -sailoring, if I'm a judge. But as for myself I don't think I am, and -yet when I make up my mind to a thing, I usually do it." - -"You usually succeed, then?" said he, with a hard smile. "It is well -to have belief in one's own strength and abilities. But sometimes -others have strength as well, and then"---- - -"And then," I answered, "it is very often a question of will." - -He smiled again and dropped the subject. - -On the third day out from San Francisco, when we were running along -the coast of Oregon, I found at last an opportunity of speaking to -Elsie. I first went to Fanny. - -"Fanny, my dear girl, I want to speak to you a few minutes." I sat -down beside her. - -"I think you know, Fanny, why I am here, don't you?" I asked. - -"It is tolerably obvious, Mr. Ticehurst," she answered rather -gravely, I thought. - -"Yes, I suppose it is; but first I want to be sure whether you were -right about what you told me on the morning we left San Francisco." - -I was silent, and looked at her. She seemed a trifle distressed. - -"Well, Tom, I thought that I was," she answered at length; "and I -still think I am--and yet I don't know. You see, Elsie is a strange -girl, and never confides in anyone since dear mother died, and she -would never confess anything to me. Still, I have eyes in my head, -and ears too. But since you have been with us she has been harder -and colder than I ever saw her in all my life, and she has said -enough to make me think that there is something that I know nothing -about which makes her so. You know, I joked her about you yesterday, -and she got so angry all of a sudden, like pouring kerosene on a -fire, and she said you were a coward. When I asked her why, she -turned white and wouldn't answer. Then I said of course you must be -a coward if she said so, but I didn't think she had any right to say -it or think it when you had saved all our lives by your coolness and -courage. And then, you know, I got angry and cried, because I like -you very much, just as much as I do my brother on the station at -home. And I said she was a cruel beast, and all kinds of horrid -things, until I couldn't think of anything but making faces at her, -just as I did when I was a child. And we are having a quarrel now, -and it is all about you--you ought to be proud." And Fanny looked up -half laughing and half crying, for she dearly loved Elsie, as I knew. - -"Well, my dear little sister Fanny," I said, "for you shall be my -sister one day, there is something that makes her think ill of me, -but it is not my fault, as far as I can see. And I can't convince -her of that, except by showing her that I am not the man she thinks, -unless some accident puts me back into the place I once believed I -held in her thoughts. But I want to speak to her, and I must do it -to-day. To-morrow we shall be in Victoria, and I should not like to -part with her without speaking. If I talk with her now, it will -probably take some time, so I want you, if you can, to prevent anyone -interrupting us." - -Fanny nodded, and wiped away a tear in a quick manner, just as if it -were a fly. - -"Very well, I will. You know I trust you, if Elsie doesn't." And -she went over to Harmer, who was in a fidget, and kept looking at me -as if he was wondering what I meant by talking so confidentially to -Fanny. - -I found Elsie sitting by herself just forward of the funnel. She was -reading, and though when I spoke she answered and put the book down -in her lap, she kept looking at it in a nervous way, as if she wished -I had not interrupted her; and we had been talking some minutes -before she seemed to wholly forget that it was there. - -I spoke without any thought of what I was going to say. - -"Miss Fleming (see, I call you that, though a little while ago it was -Elsie), I have determined to speak to you in spite of the way you -avoid me." - -"I would rather you did not, Mr. Ticehurst," she said. - -"It has come to a time when I must do as I think fit, even if I am -rude and rough. I have something to say, and mean to say it, Miss -Fleming; and if I word it in rough or broken fashion, if I stumble -over it or stammer with my tongue, you will know why, just as you -know why I am here. Come now, why am I on this steamer?" - -She remained mute, with her head bent down, and the gold of her hair -loose over her eyes, so that I could not see them. But she trembled -a little, and was ripping one of the pages of her book. I took hold -of it and put it down. She made no remonstrance, and I began to feel -that I had power over her, though how far it went I could not tell. - -"Why am I here?" I went on scornfully. "Oh, on a pleasure trip to -see the advertised coast from San Francisco to Sitka, to behold Mount -Elias and its glaciers! By Heavens, I think I have ice nearer at -hand! Oh, it is business? I wish to gain wealth, so I give up what -I understand, and go into what is as familiar to me as a sextant is -to a savage! It can't be business. Do you know what it is, Miss -Fleming? Look, I think there was a girl who I knew once, but she was -a kind, bright girl, who was joyous, whom I called by her Christian -name, who walked by my side in the moonlight, when the sails were -silvered and their shadows dark, when I kept the first watch in the -_Vancouver_. I wonder what has become of her? That girl would have -known, but----" - -I stopped, and she was still stubborn. But she did not move. I went -on again: - -"There must be evil spirits on the sea that fly like petrels in the -storm, and come on board ship and enter into the hearts of those they -find there. Why----" - -"I fear, Mr. Ticehurst," she interrupted, "that you think me a fool. -If I am not, then your talk is vain; and if I am, I surely am not fit -to mate with you. Let us cease to talk about this, for it is -useless!" - -I was almost choking with passion; it was so hard to be misconceived, -even though she had so much reason on her side. Yet, since I knew -she was wrong, I almost wished to shake her. - -"No!" I said at last, "I will not go until I have an understanding -one way or the other. We have been beating about the bush, but I -will do it no longer. You know that I love you!" - -She drew herself up. - -"How many can you love at a time, Mr. Ticehurst?" she said. - -"One, only one," I replied. "You are utterly mistaken." - -"I am not mistaken!" she said; "and I think you are a coward and a -traitor. If you were not, I might love you; but as you are, such a -thing is impossible." - -I caught her by the wrist. Instinctively she tried to free herself, -but finding she could not, looked up. When she caught my eye, her -indignant remonstrance died on her lips. - -"Look you, Elsie, what can I do? Perhaps I cannot defend myself; -there are some situations where a man cannot for the sake of others. -I can say no more about that. And I will make you see you are wrong, -if not by proof, by showing you what I am--a man incapable of what -you think me--and in the end I will make you love me." I paused for -a moment, but she did not move. - -"You have listened to me; Elsie, and you can see what I mean, you can -think whether I shall falter or swerve; and now I ask you, for I am -assured you do love me, or that you did, whether you will not trust -me now? For you cannot believe that I could speak as I do if I had -done what you think." - -I looked at Elsie, and she was very pale. I could see that I had -moved her, had shaken her conviction, that she was at war with -herself. I got up, went to the side, and then turned, beckoning to -her to look over to seaward with me. She came almost like a woman -walking in her sleep, and took a place by my side. I did so to avoid -notice, for I feared to attract attention; indeed, I saw two -passengers looking at us curiously, one of whom smiled so that I -began to wish to throw him overboard. Yet I think, as a matter of -fact, I did wrong in allowing her to move; it broke the influence I -held over her in a measure, for I have often noticed since that to -obtain control of some people one should keep steadily insisting on -the one point, and never allow them to go beyond, or even to think -beyond it. But then to do so one must be stronger than I was, or he -will lose control over himself, as I did, and so make errors in -judgment. - -"Elsie," I said quietly, "are you not going to answer me? Or am I -not worth it?" - -Now, up to this moment I had taken her away from the past; in her -emotion she had almost forgotten Helen; she was just wavering and was -on the point of giving in to me. Yet by that last suggestion of mine -I brought it back to her. I could see in her mind the darker depths -of her fear and distrust of me, and what I rightly judged her hatred -and jealousy of Helen. Though I do not think I know much of -character, yet in the state of mind that I was in then I seemed to -see her mind, as a much more subtle man might have done, and my own -error. I could have cursed my own folly. She had taken the book -again, and was holding it open in her hand. Until I spoke she held -it so lightly that it shook and wavered, but she caught it in both -hands and shut it suddenly, as though it was the book of her heart -that I had been reading, and she denied my right to do it. And she -turned toward me cold once more, though by a strange influence she -caught my thought. - -"This is a closed book, Mr. Ticehurst. It is the book of the past, -and--it is gone for ever." She dropped it over the side with a -mocking smile. But I caught hold of her hand and held it. - -"Ah!" said I, "then we begin again. If the past is dead, the present -lives, and the future is yet unborn. You mean one thing now, and I -mean the other; but in the future we shall both mean the same. -Remember what I say, Elsie--remember it. For unless I am dead, I -will be your acknowledged lover and your husband at last." - -I dropped her hand and walked away, and when I looked back I saw her -following me with her eyes. I would have given much then to have -been able to know of what she thought. I went below and slept for -many hours a sleep of exhaustion, for though a man may be as strong -as a lion physically, an excess of emotion takes more from him than -the most terrible physical toil. - -The next morning we were in Victoria, and I neither had, nor did I -seek, an opportunity of again speaking with Elsie. But I did talk -for a few moments with Fanny. I told her some part of what occurred, -but not much. She said as much: - -"You are keeping something back, Tom. I think you know some reason -why Elsie won't have anything to do with you?" - -"I do, Fanny," I replied: "but there is nothing in it at all, and one -of these days she will discover it." - -"I hope so," said she, a little dryly for so young a girl; "but Elsie -is a little obstinate, and I have seen horses that would not jump a -gate. You may have to open it yet, Tom." - -"It may open of it itself, Fanny, or the horse may desire the grass -and jump at last; but I will never open it myself." - -And I shook hands with her and Mr. Fleming. I took off my hat to -Elsie, but said in a low voice: - -"Remember what I said, Elsie, for I shall never forget." And then -she turned away; but did not look back this time, as she had done -when we parted in the hotel. Yet such is the curious state a lover -is in that I actually comforted myself that she did not, for if she -had, I said, it would have showed she was callous and cold. Perhaps, -though she kept command over herself just for the time, it failed her -at the last, and she would not let me see it. - -When they were gone, Harmer and I went ashore too. As to the boy, he -was so desperately in love--calf-love--that I had to cheer him up, -and the way I did it makes me laugh now, for I have a larger -experience of boys and men than I had then. - -"Never mind, Harmer," said I, "you will get over this in no time--see -if you don't." - -He turned round in a blazing rage, and I think if it had not been for -the effects of the old discipline, which was yet strong upon him, he -would have sworn at me; for although Harmer looked as if butter -wouldn't melt in his mouth, I knew he had a very copious vocabulary -of abuse at his command, such as one learns only too easily at sea. - -"What, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said stammering. "Get over it? I never -shall, and I don't want to, and, what's more, I wouldn't if I could! -It's not kind of you to say so, and I think--I think----" - -"What, Jack?" said I, thunderstruck at this outburst, when I meant -consolation. - -"That you'll get over it first. There now!" said he, triumphant with -this retort I burst into laughter. - -"Well--well, Harmer, I didn't mean to vex you. We must not quarrel -now, for Jordan's a hard road to travel, I believe, and you and I -have got to make lots of money; at least you have; if we are going to -do anything in this country. For it's what the Yankees call a tough -place." - -"Yes," replied Harmer, now ashamed of of being angry. "I heard one -fellow say to another on the steamer, 'You goldarned fellers from the -East think you're going to get a soft seat over here, but you bet -you'll have to rustle on the Pacific Slope or else git!' And then he -turned to me. 'D'ye hear that, young feller?--you've got to rustle -right smart, or you'll get left.'" - -And Jack laughed heartily trying to imitate the accent of his -adviser, but he found it hard to disguise his own pure English, -learnt in a home far across the seas and the wide stretch of the -American Continent. - -That night we stayed in Victoria in a rough hotel kept by two -brothers, Cornishmen, who invited us both to have drinks on the -strength of our all being Englishman, though I should never have -suspected that they were such, so well did their accent disguise the -truth from me. And in the morning, two days after, we went on board -the _Western Slope_ bound for New Westminster, on the mainland of -British Columbia, whither the Flemings had preceded us. - - - - -PART III. - -A GOLDEN LINK. - -What I have just written is but the connecting link between two -series of events--the hyphen between two words; and I shall not try -to hurry on to the strange drama of a few days to which all that -precedes it has been but the inevitable prologue, without which there -were no clear understanding of its incidents. I am going, therefore, -to dispose of a whole year's events in a few words, though much -occurred in that time which might be worth relating, if I were a -professional writer, able to make things interesting to all, or if I -had the faculty of making word-pictures of places and scenes which -stand out clearly before me whenever I reflect, and the full times of -the past come up for review. - -What Jack Harmer and I did for that year truly would take ten times -the space I have allowed myself, and have been allowed, and I shall -say but little now if I can only dispose of that twelve months in a -way that places my readers in a position to clearly understand what -passed in the thirteenth month after I had landed in British Columbia. - -Now on our landing we had but £40 between us, and I was the possessor -of nearly all that amount, about two hundred dollars in American -currency. It is true I had a hundred and fifty pounds in England, -which I had sent for, and Harmer had quite coolly asked his father -for fifty, which I may state here he did _not_ get in a letter which -advised him to return to England, and go in for something worth -having before it was too late. - -"He means the Civil Service, I know," said Jack, when he read the -letter; "and I hate the notion. They are all fossils in it, and if -they have brains to start with, they rarely keep them--why should -they? They're not half as much use as a friend at court." - -Perhaps he was right, yet I advised him to take his father's advice, -and he took neither his nor mine, but stuck to me persistently with a -devotion that pleased and yet annoyed me. For I desired a free hand, -and with him I could not get it. I had some idea of going in for -farming when I landed. I would get a farm near Elsie's father, and -stay there. But I found I hadn't sufficient money, or anything like -sufficient, to buy land near Thomson Forks. So I looked round, and, -in looking round, spent money. Finally, I got Harmer something to do -in a sawmill on Burrard's Inlet, a position which give him sufficient -to live on, but very little more; and yet he had not to work very -hard, in fact he tallied the lumber into the ships loading in the -Inlet for China and Australia, and wrote to me that he liked his job -reasonably well, though he was grieved to be away from me. As for -myself, I went up to Thomson Forks, looked round me there, and at the -hotel fell in with a man named Mackintosh, an American from Michigan, -a great strong fellow, with a long red beard, and an eye like an -eagle's, who was going up in the Big Bend gold-hunting, prospecting -as they call it. I told him, after we got into conversation, that I -wanted to go farming. - -He snorted scornfully, and immediately began to dilate on gold-mining -and all the chances a man had who possessed the grit to tackle it. -And as I knew I really had too little money to farm with, it wasn't -long before he persuaded me to be his partner and go with him. For I -liked him at once, and was feeling so out in the cold that I was glad -to chum with anyone who looked like knowing his way about. We were -soon in the thick of planning our campaign, and Mac got very fluent -and ornamental in his language as he drank and talked. However, I -did not mind that much, although his blasphemy was British Columbian, -and rather worse than that in use on board ship. Yet people do not -think the sea a mean school of cursing. Presently, as I turned round -at the bar, I saw Mr. Fleming, who did not notice me until I spoke. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Fleming," I said; "will you drink with me?" - -He turned round sharply at the sound of my voice, and then shook my -hand, half doubtfully at first, and then more heartily. - -"Well, Ticehurst," he said at last, "I am glad to see you, after all. -Hang it, I am! for" (here he lowered his voice to a whisper) "I don't -care about the style of this place after New South Wales. They -nearly all carry revolvers here, damn it! as if they were police; and -last time I came in, my man and another fellow fought, and Siwash Jim -(that's what they call him) tried to gouge out the other chap's eyes. -And when I pulled him off, the other men growled about my spoiling a -fight. What do you think of that?" - -And the old man stared at me inquiringly, and then laughed. - -"Wish I could ask you over to the Creek, but I can't, and you know -why. Take my advice and go back to sea. Now, look here, let's speak -plain. I know you want Elsie; but it's a mistake, my boy. She -didn't care for you; and I know her, she's just like her mother, the -obstinatest woman you ever saw when she made up her mind. I wouldn't -mind much if she did care for you, though perhaps you aint so rich as -you ought to be, Tom. But then my wife had more money than I had by -a long sight, so I don't care for that. But seeing that Elsie -doesn't want you, what's the use? Take my advice and go to sea -again." - -Here he stopped and gave me the first chance of speaking I had had -since I accosted him. - -"Thank you, Mr. Fleming," I said firmly; "but I can't go back yet. I -am glad you have no great objection to me yourself, but I believe -that Elsie hasn't either, and I'm bound to prove it; and I will." - -"Well, you know best," he replied. "But mind your eye, old boy, when -your friend the Malay comes out. I shouldn't like to be on the same -continent with him, if I were you." - -"I don't like being either," I said. "But then it shows how fixed I -am on one object. And I shall not go, even if he were to find out -where I am. For I might have to kill him. Yet I don't see how he -can find out. Nobody knows or will know, except my brother, and he -won't tell him." - -Fleming shrugged his shoulders and dropped the subject to take up his -own affairs. - -"Damn this country, my boy! give me a plain where I can see a few -miles. On my soul, this place chokes me; I can't look out five -hundred yards for some thundering old mountain! At the Creek there -are hills at the back, at the front, and on both sides, and nearly -all are chokeful of trees, so that riding after the cattle is worse -than going after scrub cattle in Australia. I can't get the hang of -the place at all, and though I am supposed to own nearly two hundred -head of cattle, I can't muster seventy-five on my own place. Some -are up at Spullamacheen, some on the Nicola, and others over at the -Kettle River on the border, for all I know. And the place is full of -cañons, as they call gulches in this place; and thundering holes they -are, two hundred feet deep, with a roaring stream at the bottom. The -Black Cañon at the back of my place gives me the shivers. I am like -a horse bred on the plains; when it gets on the mountains it is all -abroad, and shivers at the sight of a sharp slope. I reckon I can -ride on the flat, old as I am, but here, if it wasn't for my -scoundrel Siwash Jim, who says he knows the country like a book, I -shouldn't know where to go or what to do. Here he comes, the -vagabond!" - -I had learnt by this time that Siwash means Indian, for in that -country they say Siwashes instead of Indians, so I thought Jim was -one of the natives. However, I saw at once he wasn't, for though he -was dark, his features were pure white. He had earned his nickname -by living with the Indians for so many years that he was more at home -with them than with white people, and he had acquired all their vices -as well as a goodly stock of his own, probably inherited. He was a -slightly built man of about forty, with a low forehead, a sharp -aquiline nose, and no lips to speak of; his mustache was short, and a -mere line; his teeth were black with smoking and chewing; his legs -bowed with continual riding. He wore mocassins, and kept his hair -long. He was more than half intoxicated when he came in, carrying a -stock-whip coiled round his neck. He did not speak, but drank -stolidly; and when he looked at me, I fancied it was with an air of -dislike, as though he had read my thoughts and knew how I regarded -him. - -I drew Fleming aside. - -"I don't like him," said I; "and wouldn't trust him farther than I -could swing a bull by the tail. Do the girls like him?" - -"Like him!" repeated Fleming, "they hate him, and want me to give him -the bounce, as they say here. Elsie says he looks like a murderer, -and Fanny that he is uglier than a Murrumbidgee black fellow. But -then he knows the country and does his work, and don't want to go. I -don't care much either way, for when I can get all the cattle -together and put the place in order I shall sell out and go back. -Stay in British Columbia--no, sir, I won't! not if they make me -Governor. I tell you I like to be where I can see ten miles. Then I -can breathe. I can go out at home and see all my station and almost -count the sheep and cattle from my door; and here I have to ride up -and ride down, and I never know where I am. I'm going back just as -soon as I can." - -And he went away then without asking where I was going or whether I -was doing anything. Next morning I jumped on board the steamer with -Mac and started for the head of the Shushwap Lakes. Thence we went -into the Big Bend, and though we never made the millions Mac was -always prophesying about and hungering for, our summer's work was not -wasted. For before the season was over we had struck a rich pocket -and made about four thousand dollars a piece. - -Of course I wanted to up stick and go back as soon as I had as much -as that, but Mac would not hear of it. - -"No, Tom--no," said he; "there's more here yet." - -And he eyed me so entreatingly that I caved in and promised to remain -with him prospecting, at any rate till the first snow. - -But a week after making that agreement we both went down to the -Columbia for more provisions. Finding none there, we had to make the -farther journey to the Landing. There I found a letter waiting for -me from Harmer, saying that he was tired of the sawmill on the Inlet, -and wanted to join me. I wrote back requesting him to be good enough -to stay where he was, but, to console him, promised that if I saw any -chance of his doing better with me I would send for him. He asked -rather timidly for news of Fanny. How could I give him news when I -knew nothing of Elsie? Yet the simple mention of the girl's name -again made me anxious to get back to the Forks, and if one of the -steamers had come up the lake I think I should have deserted Mac in -spite of my promise. Yet we had only brought down half the gold that -trip, perhaps because my partner had made a calculation as to what I -might do, having it on me, if we got within reach of some kind of -civilization, and I thought it best to secure the rest while I could, -though I thoroughly trusted Mac. At the same time that I answered -Harmer's letter I wrote one to my brother, telling him both what I -had done and what I proposed doing later on. And I begged him to be -careful, if he should be in San Francisco then, of the Malay when his -time was up. For although his chief spite was against me, yet Will -was my brother, and I well remembered the look that he had cast on -him when he was kicked in the struggle between Will and myself. - -The rest of the summer--and a beautiful season it was in the wooded -mountains--was spent in very unsuccessful prospecting. For one -thing, after our success Mac had taken to prospecting for pockets; -and if gold-mining be like gambling as a general rule, that is almost -pure chance. Once or twice he was in high spirits at good -indications, but on following them up we were invariably -disappointed, and we had to start again. August and September -passed, and the higher summits above us were already white with snow, -which fell on us in the lower valleys as rain. In October there was -a cessation of bad weather for a time, and Mac promised himself a -long fall season, but at the end of it we woke one morning to find a -foot of snow on our very camping ground. - -"We shall have to get up and get," said I cheerfully, for I was glad -of it. - -"Oh, no!" said Mac; "this is nothing. It will all go again by -to-morrow; there will be nothing to stop us from another week or two. -Besides, yesterday I had a notion that I saw something. I didn't -tell you, but I found another bit of quartz--aye, richer than the -piece I showed you at the Forks, Tom, and we've got to find out where -it comes from." - -I groaned, but, in spite of argument, there was no moving him; and -though I was angry enough to have gone off by myself, yet knowing -neither the trail nor the country well, I had no desire to get lost -in the mountains, which would most assuredly have meant death to me. -However, I still remonstrated, and at last got him to fix ten days as -the very longest time he would remain: I was obliged to be content -with that. - -But Mac was sorry before the hour appointed for our departure that he -had not taken my advice, "tenderfoot" and Englishman though I was. -On the evening of the eighth day the temperature, which had up to -that time been fairly warm in spite of our altitude and the advanced -season, fell suddenly, and it became bitterly cold. Our ponies, who -had managed to pick up a fair living on the plateau where our camp -stood, and along the creek bottoms, came right up to our tent, and -one of them put his head inside. "Dick," as we called him, was a -much gentler animal than most British Columbian cayuses, and had made -a friend of me, coming once a day at least for me to give him a piece -of bread, of which he had grown fond, though at first he was as -strange with it as a young foal with oats. I put up my hand and -touched his nose, which was soft and silky, while the rest of his -coat was long and rough. He whinnied gently, and I found a crust for -him, and then gently repulsing him, I fastened the fly of the tent. -Mac was fast asleep under his dark blankets, whence there came sudden -snorts like those a bear makes in his covert, or low rumblings like -thunder from a thick cloud. - -But it was he who woke me in the morning, and he did it without -ceremony. - -"Get up, old man!" he said hurriedly, while he was jamming himself, -as it were, into his garments. "The snow's come at last--and, by -thunder, it's come to stay! There's no time to be lost!" And he -vanished into the white space outside. - -When I followed I found him already at work packing the ponies, and -without any words I set to, struck the tent, rolled it up, and got -together everything I thought should go. When I touched the tools -Mac turned round. - -"Leave 'em, pard--leave 'em. There's plenty of weight without that. -Aye, plenty--and too much!" - -The last I only just caught, for it was said to himself. In half an -hour we were off, leaving behind us nearly three weeks' provisions, -all the tools but two light shovels, and what remained after our -working the quartz. - -"It's worth a thousand dollars," said Mac, regretfully, "but without -a proper crusher it's only tailings." - -We moved off camp, Mac first, leading the nameless pony, which was -the stronger of the two, and I following with Dick. - -The snow was two feet deep in many parts, and in some drifts much -more than that. Fortunately, the trail was for its greater length -well sheltered, both by overhanging rocks and big trees, spruce, -cedar, hemlock, and pine, which helped to keep it clear; but it was -evident to me by the way the ponies traveled, and the labor it was -for me to get along with no other burden than the shovel, from which -I sometimes used to free Dick, that another fall of snow would make -traveling almost impossible. Mac walked on in somber silence, -reflecting doubtless that it was his obstinacy which had brought us -into trouble, a thing I confess I was not so forgiving as to forget, -though merciful enough not to remind him of it. It had taken us -three days to come up from the Columbia, and it seemed barely -possible under the circumstances to retrace our steps in the same -time, even although the horses were not so much burdened and there -was not so much hard climbing to be done. But I could see Mac was -bent on getting out, and he traveled without more rest than we were -absolutely compelled to take on account of the animals. As for -myself, I confess that though I had traveled that same trail twice, -yet so greatly was it altered by the snow that I should have lost my -way in the first mile. For mountaineering and the knowledge of -locality are things not to be learnt in a hurry, they must come by -long custom, or by native instinct. - -Sorrowfully--for I am always loth to harm even a noxious animal, as -long as it leaves me alone--I suggested to Mac that we should leave -the horses. He shook his head. - -"Who'll carry the provisions, then?" said he. - -"Do you think we can get to the Landing, Mac?" I asked. - -"We shall be lucky," he answered, with a significant nod, "if we get -to the other side of the Columbia. Tom, I think I have let you in -for a winter up here, unless you care about snow-shoeing it over the -other pass. I was a fool--say yes to that if you like." - -It was late when we camped, but my partner was in better spirits than -he had been at noon when we held the above conversation, for we had -done, by dint of forced marching, quite as much as we did in fine -weather. But the ponies were very tired, and there was nothing for -them to eat, or next to nothing, for the grass was deeply buried. I -gave Dick a little bread, however, and the poor animal was grateful -for it, and stood by me all night, until, at the earliest dawn, we -packed them again with a load that was lighter by the day's food of -two men, and heavier to them by a day's hard toil and starvation. - -Toward the afternoon of that, the second day, we came to the hardest -part of the whole trail, for, on crossing a river which was freezing -cold, we had to climb the side of an opposing mountain. Mac's pony -traveled well, and though he showed evident signs of fatigue, he was -in much better case than mine, who every now and again staggered, or -sobbed audibly with a long-drawn breath. I drew Mac's attention to -it, but he shook his head. - -"He must go on, there's no two ways about it." And he marched off. -I went behind Dick and pushed him for a while, and though I tired -myself, yet I am not sorry for what I did, even that little -assistance was such a relief to the poor wretched animal who, from -the time he was able to bear a weight, had been used by a packer -without rest or peace, as though he were a machine, and whose only -hope of release was to die, starved, wounded, saddle and girth -galled, of slow starvation at last. Such is the lot of the pack -horse, and, though poor Dick's end was more merciful, his fellows -have no better fate to expect, while their life is a perpetual round -of ill-usage and hard work. - -By about four o'clock in the afternoon the sky grew overcast, and the -light feathery flakes of snow came at first slowly, and then faster, -turning what blue distances we caught sight of to a gray, finally -hiding them. Dick by this time was almost at a standstill. I never -thought I was a very tender-hearted man, and never set up to be; -indeed, if he had been only stubborn, I might have thrashed him in a -way some folks would call cruel; and yet, being compelled to urge -him, both for his sake and my own, I confess my heart bled to see his -suffering and wretchedness. Having scarcely the strength to lift his -feet properly, he had struck his fetlocks against many projecting -stones and roots until the blood ran down and congealed on his little -hoofs, which were growing tender, as I could see by the way he winced -on a rockier piece of the trail than common. His rough coat was -standing up and staring like that of a broken-haired terrier, in -spite of the sweat which ran down his thin sides and heaving flanks; -while every now and again he stumbled, and with difficulty recovered -himself. - -When we came to the divide, just as if he had said that he would do -so much for us, he stumbled again, and fell on the level ground, -cutting his knees deeply. Mac heard the noise, and, leaving his pony -standing, he came back to me. - -"He's done up, poor devil!" said he; "he'll go no further. What -shall we do?" - -I shook my head, for it was not I who arranged or ordered things when -Mac was about. He was silent for a while. - -"There's nothing for it," he said at last, "but one thing. We must -put all the other kieutan can stand on him." - -By this time I had got the pack off Dick, and he lay down perfectly -flat upon his side, with the blood slowly oozing from his knees, and -his flanks still heaving from the exertions which had brought him up -the hill to die on the top of it. - -"Come on," said Mac, as he moved off with what he meant to put on the -other pony. - -But at first I could not go. I put my hand in my pocket, took out a -piece of bread, and, kneeling down by the poor animal, I put it to -his lips. He mumbled it with his teeth and dropped it out. Then in -my hat I got some water out of a little pool and offered it to him. -He drank some and then fell back again. I took my revolver from my -belt, stroked his soft nose once more, and, putting the weapon to his -head between his eye and ear, I fired. He shivered all over, -stiffened a little, and all was still except for the slow drip of the -blood that ran out of his ear from a vein the ball had divided. Then -I went on--and I hope no one will think me weak if I confess my sight -was not quite so clear as it had been before, and if there was a -strange haziness about the cruelly cold trail and mountain side that -did not come from the falling snow. - -At our camp that night we spoke little more than was absolutely -necessary, and turned in as soon as we had eaten supper, drunk a tin -of coffee, and smoked a couple of pipes. Fortunately for the -remaining horse, in the place we had reached there was a little feed, -a few tussocks of withering frost-nipped bunch grass, which he ate -greedily to the last roots his sharp teeth could reach. And then he -pawed or "rustled" for more, using his hoof to bare what was hidden -under the snow. But for that we should have left him on the trail -next morning. - -The toil and suffering of the third day's march were dreadful, for I -grew footsore, and my feet bled at the heels, while the skin rose in -blisters on every toe, which rapidly became raw. But Mac was a man -of iron, and never faltered or grew tired; and his example, and a -feeling of shame at being outdone by another, kept me doggedly behind -him at a few paces' distance. How the pony stood that day was a -miracle, for he must have been made of iron and not flesh and blood -to carry his pack, while climbing up and sliding down the steep -ascents and slopes of the hills, while every few yards some -wind-felled tree had to be clambered over almost as a dog would do -it. He was always clammy with sweat, but he seemed in better -condition than on the second day, perhaps on account of the grass he -had been able to get during the night. Yet he had had to work all -night to get it, while I and Mac had slept in the torpor of great -exhaustion. - -Late in the evening we came to the banks of the Columbia, across -which stretched sandy flats and belts of scrub, until the level -ended, and lofty mountains rose once more, covered with snow and -fringed with sullen clouds, thousands of feet above where we stood. -Mac stopped, and looked anxiously across the broad stream; and when -he saw a faint curl of bluish smoke rising a mile away in the sunless -air, he pointed to it with a more pleased expression that I had seen -on his face since he had roused me so hurriedly on that snowy morning -three days ago. - -"There is somebody over there, at any rate, old man," he said almost -cheerfully, "though I don't know what the thunder they're doing here, -unless it's Montana Bill come up trapping. He said he was going to -do it, but if so, what's he doing down here?" - -"Can't he trap here, then?" I asked. - -"Well," replied Mac, "this might be the end of his line; but still, -he ought to be farther up in the hills. There isn't much to trap -close down on this flat. You see trappers usually have two camps, -and they walk the line during the day, and take out what is caught in -the night, setting the traps again, and sleeping first at one end and -then at the other. However, we shall see when we get across." And -he set about lighting a fire. - -When we had crossed before there had been a rough kind of boat built -out of pine slabs, which was as crazy a craft to go in as a -butter-tub. It had been made by some hunters the winter before, and -left there when they went west in the early spring, before we came -up. I asked Mac what had become of it, for it was not where we had -left it, hauled up a little way on a piece of shingle and tied to a -stump. - -"Somebody took it," he said, "or more likely, when the water rose -after we crossed, it was carried away. Perhaps it's in the Pacific -by this." - -I went down to the stump, and found there the remains of the painter, -and as it had been broken violently and not cut, I saw that his last -suggestion was probably correct. - -We sat down to supper by our fire, which gleamed brightly in the -gathering darkness on the surrounding snow and the waters close -beneath us, and ate some very vile bacon and a greasy mess of beans -which we had cooked the night before we left our mountain camp. - -"How are we going to cross, Mac?" said I, when we had lighted our -pipes. - -"Build a raft," said he. - -"And then?" - -"When we are over?" - -"Yes." - -"Why, stay there, I guess, if it snows any more. One more fall of -heavy snow will block Eagle Pass as sure as fire's hot!" - -I shrugged my shoulders. Though I had been expecting this, it was -not pleasant to have the prospect of spending a whole winter mewed up -in the mountains, so close before me. - -"Does it get very cold here?" I asked at length, when I had reflected -for a while. - -He nodded sardonically. - -"Does it get cold? Is it cold now?" - -I drew closer to the fire for an answer. - -"Then this is nothin'--nothin' at all. It would freeze the tail off -a brass monkey up here. It goes more than forty below zero often and -often; and it's a worse kind of cold than the cold back east, for -it's damper here, and not so steady. Bah! I wish I was a bear, so -as to hole up till spring." - -All of which was very encouraging to a man who had mostly sailed in -warm latitudes, and hated a frost worse than poison. And it didn't -please me to see that so good-tempered a man as Mac was really put -out and in a vile humor, for he knew what I could only imagine. - -The conversation--if conversation it could be called--flagged very -soon, and we got out our blankets, scraping away the snow from a -place, where we lay close to each other in order to preserve what -warmth we could. We lay in the position commonly called in America -"spooning," like two spoons fitting one into another, so that there -had to be common consent for changing sides, one of which grew damp -while the other grew cold. Just as we were settling down to sleep we -heard the sudden crack of a rifle from the other shore, and against -the wind came a "halloa" across the water, Mac sat up very -unconcernedly; but, as for me, I jumped as if I had been shot, -thinking of course at first that the shot had been fired by Indians, -though I knew there were no hostile tribes in that part of British -Columbia, where, indeed, most of the Indians are very peaceable. - -"I told you so," said Mac; "that's Montana Bill's rifle. I sold it -him myself. He's the only man up here that carries a Sharp." - -He rose, and went down to the water's edge. "Halloa!" he shouted, in -his turn, and in the quietness of the windless air I heard it faintly -repeated in distant echoes. - -"Is that you, Mac?" said the mysterious voice. - -"You bet it is!" answered my partner, in a tone that ought to have -been heard on the Arrow Lake. - -"Bully old boy!" said Bill faintly, as it seemed. "Do you know me?" - -"Aye, I reckon I know old Montana's bellow!" roared Mac. - -"Then I'll see you in the morning, pard!" came the voice again, after -which there was silence, broken only by the faint lap of the water on -the shingle, as it slipped past, and the snort of our pony as he blew -the snow out of his nostrils, vainly seeking for a tuft of grass. - -We rose at earliest dawn, and saw Montana Bill slowly coming over the -level. He sat down while Mac and I built a raft, and fashioned a -couple of rude paddles with the ax. - -"Is the pony coming across, Mac?" I asked. - -"We'll try it, but it's his own lookout," said he; "if he won't come -easy we shan't drag him, for we shall hev to paddle to do it -ourselves." - -Fortunately for him he did want to go over, and, having a long lariat -round his neck, he actually swam in front of us, and gave us a tow -instead of our giving him one. - -As we were going over, Mac said to me: - -"I never thought I'd be glad to see Montana Bill before. He's got -more gas and blow about him than'd set up a town, and he's no more -good at bottom--that is, he aint no more grit in him than a clay -bank, though to hear him talk you'd think he'd mor'n a forty-two inch -grindstone. But I hope he's got a good stock of grub." - -In a few minutes we touched bottom, and we shook hands with the -subject of Mac's eulogium, who looked as bold as brass, as fierce as -a turkeycock, and had the voice of a man-o'-war's bo'son. We took -the lariat off the pony, and turned him adrift. - -"Did you fellows strike it?" said Bill, the first thing. - -"Enough to pay for our winter's board, I reckon," said Mac. "Have -you got plenty of grub?" - -Bill nodded, using the common American word for yes, which is a kind -of cross-breed between "yea" and the German "Ja," pronounced short -like "ye." - -"You bet I've plenty. Old Hank kem up with me, and then he cleared -out again. He and I kind of disagreed first thing, and he just -skinned out. Good thing too--for him!" - -And Bill looked unutterable things. - -"Is there any chance of getting out over the pass?" asked Mac. - -"If you can fly," answered Bill. "Drifts is forty foot deep in -parts, and soft too. I could hardly get on snow-shoein' it. Better -stay and trap with me. Better'n gold-huntin' any time, and more -dollars in it." - -"Why aint you farther up in the hills?" asked Mac, as we tramped -along. - -"Dunno," said Bill; "I allers camp here every year. It's kind of -clear, and there's a chance for the cayuses to pick a bit to keep -bones and hide together. Besides, I feel more freer down here. I -see more than 'ull do me of the hills walking the line." - -And with that we came to his camp. - -Now, if I tell all that happened during that winter, which was, all -round, the most uncomfortable and most unhappy one I ever spent, for -I had so much time to think of Elsie, and how some other man more to -her mind might go to windward of me in courting her--why, I should -not write one book, but two, which is not my intention now. Besides, -I have been long enough coming to the most serious part of my history -to tire other people, as it has tired me; although I could not -exactly help it, because all, or at least nearly all, that happened -between the time I was on the _Vancouver_ and the time we all met -again seems important to me, especially as it might have gone very -differently if I had never been gold-hunting in the Selkirks, or even -if I had got out of the mountains in the fall instead of the -following spring. For things seem linked together in life, and, in -writing, one must put everything in unless more particular -description becomes tedious, because of its interfering with the -story. And though trapping is interesting enough, yet I am not -writing here about that or hunting, which is more interesting still; -and when a man tells me a yarn he says is about a certain thing, I -don't want him to break off in the middle to say something quite -different, any more than I like a man to get up in the middle of a -job of work, such as a long splice which is wanted, to do something -he wasn't ordered to do. It's only a way of doing a literary Tom -Cox's traverse, "three times round the deck house, and once to the -scuttle-butt"--just putting in time, or making what a literary friend -of mine calls "padding." - -So folks who read this can understand why I shall say nothing of this -long and weary winter, and, if they prefer it, they can think that we -"holed up," as Mac said, like the bears, and slept through it all. -For in the next part of this yarn it will be spring, with the snow -melting fast, and the trail beginning to look like a path again that -even a sailor, who was not a mountaineer, could hope to travel on -without losing his life, or even his way. - - - - -PART IV. - -LOVE AND HATE. - -It had been raining for a week in an incessant torrent, while the -heavy clouds hung low down the slopes of the sullen, sunless -mountains, when we struck camp in the spring-time, and loaded our -gaunt pack-ponies for the rapidly opening trail. Our road lay for -some twenty miles on the bottom of a flat, which closed in more and -more as we went east, until we were in the heart of the Gold Range. -The path was liquid mud, in which we sank to the tops of our long -boots, sometimes even leaving them embedded there; and the ponies -were nearly "sloughed down" a dozen times in the day. At the worst -places we were sometimes compelled to take off their packs, which we -carried piecemeal to firmer ground, and there loaded them again. It -had taken us but four or four and a half days to cross it on our last -trip, and now we barely reached Summit Lake in the same time. - -Yet, in spite of the miserable weather and our dank and dripping -condition, in spite of the hard work and harder idleness, when wind -and rain made it almost impossible to sleep, I was happy--far happier -than I had been since the time I had so miserably failed to make -Elsie believe what I told her; for now I was going back to her with -the results of my long toil, and there was nothing to prevent my -staying near her, perhaps on a farm of my own, until she should -recognize her error at last. Yet, I thought it well to waste no -time, for though I had to a great extent got rid of my fears -concerning that wretched Matthias, still his imprisonment had but a -few more months to run, and he _might_ keep his word and his sworn -oath. I wished to win her and wear her before that time, and after -that, why, I did not care, I would do my best, and trust in -Providence, even if I trusted in vain. - -I have often thought since that it was strange how much John Harmer -was in my mind, from daylight even to dark, during the sixth day of -our toilsome tramp over Eagle Pass, for his image often unaccountably -came before me, and even dispossessed the fair face of her whom I -loved. But it was so, and no time during that day should I have been -very much surprised, though perhaps a little angry, to see him come -round a bend in the trail, saying half humbly and half impudently, as -he approached me, "How do you do, Mr. Ticehurst?" I almost began to -believe after that day in second sight, clairvoyance, and all the -other mysterious things which most sensible people look upon as they -do on charlatanry and the juggling in a fair, for my presentiments -came true in such a strange way; even if it was only an accident or -mere coincidence after all. Yet I have seen many things put down as -"coincidences" which puzzled me, and wiser people than Tom Ticehurst. - -We had camped in a wretchedly miserable spot, which had nothing to -recommend it beyond the fact that there really was some grass there; -for the wall of rock on our right, which both Mac and Bill considered -a protection from the wind, acted as break-winds often do, and gave -us two gales in opposite directions, instead of one. So the wind, -instead of sweeping over us and going on its way, fought and -contended over our heads, and only ceased for a moment to rush -skrieking again about our ears as it leapt on the fire and sent the -embers here and there, while the rain descended at every possible -angle. Perhaps it was on account of the fizzing of the water in the -fire, the rattle of the branches overhead, and the whistling of the -wind, that we heard no one approaching our grumbling company until -they were right upon us. I was just then half a dozen paces out in -the darkness, cutting up some wood for our fire, and as the strangers -approached the light, I let fall my ax so that it narrowly escaped -cutting off my big toe, for one of the two I saw was a boy, and that -boy John Harmer! I slouched my big hat down over my eyes, and with -some wood in my arms I approached the group and replenished the fire. -John was talking with quite a Western twang, as though he was -determined not to be taken for an Englishman. - -"Rain!" he was saying; "well, you bet it's something like it! On the -lake it takes an old hand to know which is land and which is water. -Old Hank was nearly drowned in his tent the other day." - -"Serve him right!" growled Bill. "But who are you, young feller?--I -never see you before, and I mostly know everybody in this country." - -Harmer looked up coolly, and taking off his hat, swung it round. - -"Well," he answered, "I aint what you'd call celebrated in B.C. yet, -and so you mightn't have heard of me. But if you know everybody, -perhaps you know Tom Ticehurst and can tell me where he is to be -found. For I am looking for him." - -"Oh, you are, are you?" said Bill. "Then what's he been doing that -you want him so bad as to come across in this trail this weather?" - -"He hasn't been doing anything that I know, pard," said Jack; "but I -know he was up here with a man named Mackintosh." - -"Ah! I know him," replied Bill, "in fact, I've seen him lately. Is -Tom Ticehurst a little chap with red hair and a squint?" - -"No, he isn't!" shouted Jack, as if he had been libeled instead of -me. "He's a good looking fellow, big enough to eat you." - -"Oh, is he?" sneered the joker. "I tell you what, young feller, it -would take a big man to chew up Montana Bill's little finger." - -Harmer burst out laughing. - -"So you're Montana Bill, are you?" said he. - -"I am," answered Bill as gravely as if it were a kingly title. - -"Well, then, old Hank said he could eat you up without pepper or -salt. He's as mad at you as a man can be; says he's been practicing -shooting all the winter on purpose to do you up, and he puts a new -edge on his knife every morning." - -"That'll do, young feller," put in Mac, seeing that Bill was getting -in a rage, and knowing that he was just the man to have a row with a -youngster. "You're a little too fast, you are. My name's -Mackintosh, if you want anyone of that name." - -"Do I want you!" cried Harmer anxiously; "of course I do! Do you -know where Ticehurst is?" - -"Yes," replied Mac; while I stood close beside Harmer looking down at -the fire so that he couldn't see my face--I was laughing so. - -"Then where is he? Hang it! has anything happened to him that you -fellows make such a mystery about it?" he asked getting a little -alarmed, as I could tell by the tone of his voice. - -"Well," replied Mac quietly, "I'll tell you. He was up in the hills -with me, and we struck it rich--got a lot of gold, we did, you bet we -did," he went on in an irritating drawl; "and then came down when the -snow flew. We had such a time getting out, young feller, and then at -last we came to the Columbia and there----" - -"He was drowned?" said Harmer growing pale. - -"No, he warn't," replied Mac. "We got across all right, and stayed -all winter trapping with Bill here. And let me tell you, young man, -you mustn't trifle with Bill. He's a snorter, he is." - -I could see "Damn Bill!" almost on Jack's lips, but he restrained it. - -"And when the Chinook came up, and the snow began to melt a few days -back, we all got ready to cross the range--him, and Bill, and me. -That's six days ago. And a better fellow than him you never struck, -no, nor will. What do you think, pard?" he asked with a grin, -turning to me. - -I grunted. - -"And, young feller," Mac went on again, "if he's a pardner of yours, -or a shipmate--for I can see you're an Englishman--why, I'm glad he's -here and safe." - -Then suddenly altering his tone, he turned fiercely on Harmer, who -jumped back in alarm. - -"Why the thunder don't you shake hands with him? There he is -a-waitin'." - -And John sprang across the fire and caught me by both hands. - -"Confound it, Mr. Ticehurst, how very unkind of you!" he said, with -tears in his eyes. "I began to think you were dead." And he looked -unutterably relieved and happy, but bursting with some news, I could -see. - -"Wait till supper, Jack," said I; "and then tell me. But I'm glad to -see you." - -I was too, in spite of his leaving the Inlet without asking me. - -As to the man with whom he came, Montana Bill knew him, and they -spent their time in bullying the absent Hank Patterson. It appeared -that Harmer had hired him to come and hunt for me as far as the -Columbia River, in order to bury me decently, as ne had been firmly -convinced that I was dead, when he learnt no news of me at the -Landing. - -The whole five of us sat down to beans and bacon; but I and Harmer -ate very little because he wanted to tell me something which I was -strangely loth to hear, so sure was I that it could be nothing good. -It certainly must be bad news to bring even an impulsive youngster -from the coast to the Columbia in such weather. - -"Well, what is it, Harmer?" said I at last. - -He hesitated a moment. - -"Is it anything about her?" I asked quietly, lest the others should -overhear. - -"Who? Miss F.?" he asked. I nodded, and he shook his head. - -"It's no such luck," he went on; "but I am so doubtful of what I have -to tell you, although a few hours ago I was sure enough that I didn't -know how to begin. When Mat's sentence be up, Mr. Ticehurst?" - -I had no need to reckon. - -"The 15th of August, Jack." - -He looked at me, and then bent over toward me. - -"It's up already, sir." - -"What, is he dead, then?" - -"No, sir, but he has escaped." - -And he filled his pipe while I gathered myself together. It was -dreadfully unfortunate if it were true. - -"How do you know this?" I said at length, - -"I saw him in New Westminster one night." - -"The deuce you did! Harmer, are you sure?" - -The lad looked uncomfortable, and wriggled about on his seat, which -was the old stump of a tree felled by some former occupants of our -camping ground. - -"I should have been perfectly sure, if I hadn't thought he was in the -penitentiary," he said finally; "but still, I don't think I can have -mistaken his face, even though I only caught sight of it just for a -moment down in the Indian town. I was sitting in a cabin with two -other fellows and some klootchmen, and I saw him pass. There was not -much light, and he was going quick, but I jumped up and rushed out -after him. But in the rain and darkness he got away, if he thought -anyone was following him; or I missed him." - -"I'm glad you did, my boy; he would have thought little of putting -his knife into you," and here I rubbed my own shoulder mechanically. -"Besides, if he had seen you, that would have helped him to track me. -But then, how in the name of thunder (as Mac says) did he come here -at all! It can't be chance. Did you look up the San Francisco -papers to see if anything was reported as to his escape?" - -Harmer brightened as if glad to answer that he had done what I -considered he ought to have done. - -"Yes, sir, I did; but I found nothing about it, nothing at all." - -I reflected a little, and saw nothing clearly, after all, but the -imperative necessity of my getting down to the Forks. If Mat were -loose, why, I should have to be very careful, it was true; but -perhaps he might be retaken, though I did not know if a man could be -extradited for simply breaking prison. And if he came up country, -and couldn't find me, he might take it into his Oriental skull to -harm anyone I knew. The thought made me shiver. - -"Did you stay at Thomson Forks, Harmer?" I asked, to try and turn the -dark current of my thoughts. - -He blushed a little. - -"Yes, sir, but only a day. I saw no one, though." - -"What, not even Fanny?" - -"No, but I wrote to her and told her I was going up the Lakes to see -what had become of you." - -"That was kind of you, Jack," said I; "I mean it was kind of you to -come up here. How do you like the country, eh?" - -He turned round comically, shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. -I could see that early spring in the mountains did not please him, -especially as we were in the Wet Belt. - -But if he did not like the country, I found he could stand it well, -for he was as hardy as a pack pony, and never complained, not though -we were delayed a whole day by the rain, and on our return to the -Landing had to go to Thomson Forks in Indian dugouts. When we did -arrive there it was fine at last, and the sun was shining brilliantly. - -Mac, Harmer, and I were greeted in the friendliest manner at the -hotel by Dave, the bar-tender, who was resplendent with a white shirt -of the very finest get up, and diamond studs. He stood us drinks at -once. - -"You're welcome to it, gentlemen, and more too. For we did think -down here that you had been lost in the snow. We never expected to -hear of you again. I think a young lady round here must have an -interest in you, Mr. Ticehurst," said he knowingly, "for only two -days ago she called me out and asked more than particularly about -you. When I told her nobody knew enough to make a line in 'Local -Items,' unless they said, 'Nothing has yet been heard,' I reckon she -was sorry." - -"Who was it, Dave?" I asked carelessly "Was it Miss Fanny Fleming?" - -"No, sir, it was not; it was Miss Fleming herself, and I must say -she's a daisy. The best looking girl between the Rocky Mountains and -the Pacific, gentlemen! Miss Fanny is nice--a pretty girl I will -say; but----" He stopped and winked, so that I could hardly keep -from throwing my glass at his carefully combed and oiled head. But I -was happy to think that Elsie had asked after me. - -In the morning we got horses from Ned Conlan, and rode over to Mr. -Fleming's ranch, which was situated in a long low valley, that -terminated a mile above his house in a narrow gulch, down which the -creek came. On either side were high hills, covered on their lower -slopes with bunch grass and bull pines, and higher up with thick -scrub, that ran at last into bare rock, on the topmost peaks of which -snow lay for nine months of the year. As we approached the farm, we -saw a few of the cattle on the opposing slopes; and on the near side -of the valley were the farm-buildings and the house itself, which was -partly hidden in trees. We tied our horses to the fence, and marched -in, as we fancied, as bold as brass in appearance; but if Harmer felt -half as uncomfortable as I did, which I doubt, I am sorry for him. -The first person we saw was Fanny, and the first thing she did was to -upset her chair on the veranda on the top of a sleeping dog, who at -first howled, and then made a rush at us barking loudly. - -"Down, Di!" cried Fanny. "How dare you! O Mr. Ticehurst, how glad I -am you're not dead! And you, too, Mr. Harmer, though no one said you -were! Oh, where's father, I wonder--he'll be glad, too!" - -"And Elsie, will she be glad as well, Fanny?" I asked. She looked at -me slyly, and nodded. - -"You'd better ask her, I think. Here comes father." - -He rode up on horseback, followed by Siwash Jim, swinging the noose -of a lariat in his right hand, as though he had been after horses or -cattle. - -"Oh, it's you, Tom, is it?" said Fleming, who was looking very well. -"I'm glad you're not quite so dead as I was told. And you, Harmer, -how are you? Jim, take these gentlemen's horses to the stable. -You've come to stay for dinner, of course. I shan't let you go. I -heard you did very well gold-gambling last fall. Come in!" For that -news went down the country when we went to the Landing for grub. - -I followed, wondering a little whether he would have been quite so -effusive if I had done badly. But I soon forgot that when I saw -Elsie, who had just come out of her room. I thought, when I saw her, -that she was a little paler than when we had last met, though perhaps -that was due to the unaccustomed cold and the sunless winter; but she -more than ever merited the rough tribute which Dave had paid her in -Conlan's bar. She was very beautiful to them; but how much more to -me, as she came up, a little shyly, and shook hands softly, saying -that she was glad that the bad news they had heard of me was not -true. I fancied that she had thought of me often during that winter, -and perhaps had seen she had been unjust. At any rate, there was a -great difference between what she was then and what she was now. - -We talked during dinner about the winter, which the three Australians -almost cursed; in fact, the father did curse it very admirably, while -Elsie hardly reproved his strong language, so much did she feel that -forty degrees below zero merited all the opprobrium that could be -cast on it. I described our gold-mining adventures and the winter's -trapping, which, by the way, had added five hundred dollars to my -other money. - -I told Fleming that I was now worth, with some I still had at home, -more than five thousand dollars, and I could see it gave him -satisfaction. - -"What do you think of the country now, Mr. Fleming?" I asked; "and -how long shall you stay here?" - -He shook his head. - -"I don't know, my boy," he answered; "I think, in spite of the cold, -we shall have to stand another winter here. This summer I must -rebuild the barns and stables; there are still a lot of cattle adrift -somewhere; and I won't sell out under a certain sum. That's -business, you know; and I have just a little about me, though I am an -old fool at times, when the girls want their own way." - -"What would you advise me to do?" said I, hoping he would give me -some advice which I could flatter him by taking. "You see, when one -has so much money, it is only the correct thing to make more of it. -The question is how to do it." - -"That's quite right, Ticehurst--quite right!" said he energetically. -"I'm glad you talk like that; your head's screwed on right; you will -be well in yet" (an Australian phrase for our "well off"), "I'll bet -on that. Well, you can open a store, or go lumbering, or -gold-mining, or hunting, or raise cattle, like me." - -I pretended to reflect, though I nearly laughed at catching Harmer's -eye, for he knew quite well what I wanted to do. - -"Yes, Mr. Fleming, you're right. That's nearly all one can do. But -as to keeping a store, you see, I've been so accustomed to an -open-air life, I don't think it would suit me. Besides, a big man -like me ought to do something else than sell trousers! As to -gold-mining, I've done that, and been lucky once, which, in such a -gambling game, is against me. And hunting or trapping--well, there's -nothing great in that. I think I should prefer cattle-raising, if I -could do it. I was brought up on a farm in England, and why -shouldn't I die on one in British Columbia, or" (and I looked at -Elsie) "in Australia?" - -"Quite right, Tom," said Fanny, laughing, for she was too cute to -miss seeing what I meant. - -Mr. Fleming looked at me approvingly. - -"You'll die worth a lot yet, Tom Ticehurst. I like your spirit. I -was just the same once. Now, I'll tell you what. Did you ever see -George Nettlebury at the Forks?" - -"No," I replied, "not that I know of." - -"I dare say you have," said he; "he's mostly drunk; and Indian Alice, -who is always with him, usually has a black eye, as a gentle reminder -that she belongs to an inferior race, if she is his wife. Now, he -lives about two miles from here, over yonder" (he pointed over the -valley). "He has a house--a very dirty one now, it is true; a -stable, and a piece of meadow, fenced in, where he could raise good -hay if he would mend the fence and keep other folks' cattle out. He -told me the other day that he was sick to death of this place, and he -wants just enough to go East with, and return to his old trade of -shipbuilding. He says he will take $300 for the whole place, with -what is on it. That don't amount to much--two cows, one old steer, -and a cayuse he rides round on. If you like, we'll go over and see -him. You can buy it, and buy some more cattle, and if you have more -next winter than you can feed, I'll let you have the hay cheap. What -do you say?" - -My heart leapt up, but I pretended I wanted time to think about it. - -"Then let's ride over now, and you can look at the place," said he; -rising. - -Harmer would not come, so I left him with the sisters. When we -returned I was the owner of the house, stable, two cows, etc., and -George Nettlebury was fighting with Indian Alice, to whom he had -announced his intention of going East at once, and without her. - -"I'm tired of this life; it's quite disgusting!" said George, as we -departed. "I'm glad you came, Mr. Ticehurst, for I'm off too quick." - -As we rode back to Thomson Forks, Harmer asked pathetically what he -was to do. - -"We must see, Jack," I answered kindly. "We'll get you something in -town." - -"I'd rather be with you," he answered dolorously. - -"Well, you can't yet, that's certain," said I. "I can't afford to -pay you wages, when there will be no more than I can get through -myself; when there is, I'll let you know. In the meantime you must -make money, Jack. There's a sawmill in town. I know the man that -runs it--Bill Custer, and I'll go and see him for you." - -Jack sighed, and we rode on in silence until we reached the Forks. - -After we had had supper Jack and I were standing in the barroom, not -near the stove, which was surrounded by a small crowd of men, who -smoked and chewed and chattered, but close by the door for the sake -of the fresher air, when we saw Siwash Jim ride up. After tying his -horse to the rail in front of the house, to which half a dozen other -animals in various stages of equine despondency or irritation were -already attached, he swaggered into the bar, brushing against me -rather rudely as he did so. Harmer's eyes flashed with indignation, -as if it was he who had been insulted. But I am a very peaceable -man, and don't always fight at the first chance. Besides, being so -much bigger than Jim, I could, I considered, afford to take no notice -of what an ill-conditioned little ruffian like that did when he was -probably drunk. Presently Jack spoke to me. - -"That beastly fellow keeps looking at you, Mr. Ticehurst, as if he -would like to cut your throat. What's wrong with him? Is he jealous -of you, do you think?" - -It was almost blasphemy to dream of such a thing, and I looked at Mr. -John Harmer so sternly that he apologized; yet I believe it must to -some extent have been that which caused the trouble that ensued -almost directly, and added afterward to the danger in which I already -stood. I turned round and looked at Jim, who returned my glance -furiously. He ordered another drink, and then another. It seemed as -if he was desirous of making himself drunk. Presently Dave, who was, -as usual, behind the bar, spoke to him. - -"Going back to the ranch to-night, Jim?" - -Jim struck the bar hard with his fist. - -"No, I'm not! Never, unless I go to set the damned place on fire!" - -"Why, what's the matter?" asked Dave, smiling, while Harmer and I -pricked up our ears. - -"Ah! I had some trouble with old Fleming just now," said Jim, in a -hoarse voice of passion. "He's like the rest, wants too much; the -more one does, the more one may do. He's a dirty coyote, and his -girls are----" And the gentle-minded Jim used an epithet which made -both our ears tingle. - -Jack made a spring, but I caught him by the shoulder and sent him -spinning back, and walked up alongside the men. I saw my own face in -the glass at the back of the bar; it was very white, and I could -hardly recognize it. - -"Mind what you say, you infernal ruffian!" I said, in a low voice, -"or I'll break your neck for you! Don't you dare to speak about -ladies, you dog, or I'll strangle you!" He sprang back like -lightning. If he had had a six-shooter on him I think my story would -have ended here, for I had none myself. But Jim had no weapon. Yet -he was no coward, and did not "take water," or "back down," as they -say there. He steadied himself one moment, and then threw the -water-bottle at me with all his force. Though I ducked, I did not -quite escape it, for the handle caught me on the forehead near the -hair, and, in breaking, cut a gash which sent the blood down into my -left eye. But I caught hold of him before he could do anything else. -In a moment the room was in an uproar; some of the men climbed on to -the tables in order to get a view, while those outside crowded to the -door. They roared, "Leave 'em alone!" when Dave attempted to -approach, and one big fellow caught hold of Harmer and held him, -saying at the same time, as Jack told me afterward, "You stay right -here, sonny, and see 'em fight. Mebbe you'll larn something!" - -I found Jim a much tougher customer than I should have imagined, -although I might have handled him more easily if I had not been for -the time blind in one eye. But he was like a bunch of muscle; his -arms, though slender, were as tough and hard as his stock-whip -handle, and his quickness was surprising. He struck me once or twice -as we grappled, and then we fell, rolling over and over, and -scattering the onlookers, as we went, until we came against the legs -of the table, which gave way and sent three men to the floor with a -shock that shook the house. Finally, Jim got his hand in my hair and -tried to gouge out my eyes. Fortunately, it was not long enough for -him to get a good hold, but when I felt his thumbs feeling for my -eyes, all the strength and rage I ever had seemed to come to me, and -I rose suddenly with him clinging to me. For a moment we swayed -about, and then I caught his throat, pushed him at arm's length from -me, and, catching hold of his belt, I threw him right over my head. -I was standing with my back to the door, and he went through it, fell -on the sidewalk, and rolled off into the road, where he lay -insensible. - -"Very good!" said Dave; "very well done indeed! Pick him up, some of -you fellows, and see if he's dead. The son of a gun, I'll make him -pay for that bottle, and for the table! Come, have a drink, Mr. -Ticehurst. You look rather warm." - -I should think I did, besides being smothered with blood and dust. I -was glad to accept his invitation. - -"Is he dead?" I asked of Harmer, who came in just then. - -"Not he," said Jack, "he's coming to already, but I guess he'll fight -no more for a few days. That must have been a sickener. By Jove! -how strong you must be--he went out of the door like a stone out of a -sling. Lucky he didn't hit the post." And Harmer chuckled loudly, -and then went off with me to wash away the blood, and bandage the cut -in my forehead. - -When I left town in the morning I heard that Jim was still in bed and -likely to stay there for some time. And Harmer, who was going to -work with Bill Custer, promised to let me know if he heard anything -which was of importance to me. - -On my way out to my new property I met its late owner and his Indian -wife in their ricketty wagon, drawn by the horse I had not thought -worth buying. Nettlebury was more than half drunk, although it was -early in the morning, and when he saw me coming he rose up, waved his -hand to me, bellowed, "I'm a-goin' East, I am!" and, falling over the -seat backward, disappeared from view. Alice reached out her hand and -helped her husband to regain his former position. I came up -alongside and reined in my horse. - -He looked at me. - -"Been fightin' already, hev you; or did you get chucked off? More -likely you got chucked--it takes an American to ride these cay uses!" -said he half scornfully. - -"No," said I, "I wasn't chucked, and I have been fighting. Did you -hear why Siwash Jim left Fleming!" - -"No, not exactly," he returned; "but he was sassy with Miss Elsie, -and--oh, I dunno--but you hev been fightin', eh? Did you lick -him--and who was it?" - -"The man himself, Mr. Nettlebury," said I--"Jim; and I reckon I did -whip him." - -He laughed. - -"Good on you, old man! He's been wanting it this long while past; -but look out he don't put a knife in your ribs. Now then," said he -ferociously, turning to his wife, "why don't you drive on? Here, -catch hold!" and giving her the reins, he lifted his hand to strike -her. But just then the old horse started up, he fell over the seat -again, and lay there on a pile of sacking. I hardly thought he would -get East with his money, and I was right, for I hired him to work for -me soon afterward. - -When I came to the Flemings' there was no one about but the old man. - -"Busy!" said he, "you may bet I'm busy. I sent that black ruffian -off yesterday, and I've got no one to help me. What's the matter -with your head?" - -When I told him, he laughed heartily, and then shook my hand. - -"I'm glad you thrashed him, Tom," said he; "I'd have done it myself -yesterday if I had been ten years younger. When Elsie wanted him to -get some water, he growled and said all klootchmen, as he calls -'em--women, you know--were alike, Indian or white, and no good. I -told him to get out. Is he badly hurt?" - -"Not very," I answered. - -"I hoped he was," said the old man. "It's a pity you didn't break -his neck! I would as soon trust a black snake! Are you going over -yonder?" - -"I guess so," I answered; "I must get the place cleaned up a -bit--it's like a pigsty, or what they call a hog-pen in this country," - -"Well, I guess it is," he replied; "but come over in the evening, if -you like." - -I thanked him and rode off, happy in one thing at least--I was near -Elsie. I felt as if Harmer's suspicions about Mat were a mere -chimera, and that the lad in some excitement had mistaken the dark -face of some harmless Indian for that of the revengeful Malay. And -as to Siwash Jim, why, I shrugged my shoulders; I did not suppose he -was so murderously inclined as Nettlebury imagined. It would be hard -lines on me to have two men so ill disposed toward me, through no -fault of my own, as to wish to kill me. - -I went back to the Flemings' after a hard day's work, in which I -burnt, or otherwise disposed of, an almost unparalleled collection of -rubbish, including old crockery and bottles, dirty shirts and -worn-out boots, which had been accumulating indoors and out for some -ten years. After being nearly smothered, I was glad to go down to -the creek and take a bath in the clear, cold water which ran into the -main watercourse issuing, some two miles away, from the Black Cañon -at the back of the valley, concerning which Fleming had once spoken -to me. That evening at his ranch was the pleasantest I ever spent in -my life up to that time, in spite of the black cloud which hung over -me, for Fanny was as bright and happy as a bird, while Elsie, who -seemed to have come to her senses, spoke almost freely, displaying no -more disinclination to me, even apparently, than might naturally be -set down to her instinctive modesty, and her knowledge that I was -courting her, and desired to be received as her lover. - -I spoke to her late that evening when Fleming went out to throw down -the night's hay to his horses. For Fanny vanished discreetly at the -same moment, and continued to make just enough noise in the kitchen -to assure us she was there, while it was not sufficient to drown even -the softest conversation. Good girl she was, and is--I love her yet, -though--well, perhaps I had better leave that unsaid at present. - -"Elsie," I said, when we were alone, "do you remember what I said -when we parted on the steamer?" - -She cast her eyes down, but did not answer. - -"I think you do, Elsie," I went on; "I said I should never forget. -Do you think I have? Don't you know why I left my ship, why I came -to this country, why I went mining, and why I have worked so hard and -patiently for long, long months without seeing you? Answer me; do -you know why?" - -She hesitated a moment, lifted up her blue eyes, dropped them at the -sight of the passion in mine, and said gently, "I suppose so, Mr. -Ticehurst." - -"Yes, you know, Elsie; it was that I might be near you, that I might -get rich enough to be able to claim you. How fortunate I have been -in that! But am I fortunate in other things, too, Elsie? Will you -answer me that, Elsie?" - -I approached her, but she held up her hand. - -"Stay, Mr. Ticehurst!--if I must speak. I may have judged you -wrongly, but I am not wholly sure that I have. If I have not, I -should only be preparing misery for myself and for you, if I answered -your questions as you would have me. I want time, and I must have -it, or some other assurance; for how can I wholly trust you when you -will not speak as you might do?" - -Ah! how could I? But this was far better than I had expected--far -better. - -"Elsie," I answered quietly, "I am ready to give you time, all the -time you need to prove me, and my love for you, though there is no -need. My heart is yours, and yours only, ever from the time I saw -you. I have never even wavered in my faith and hope. But I do not -care so long as I may be near you--so long as I may see you -sometimes, and speak to you. For without you I shall be wretched, -and would be glad even if that wretched Malay were to kill me, as he -threatened." - -I thought I was cunning to bring in Matthias, and indeed she lifted -her eyes then. But she showed no signs of fear for me. Perhaps she -looked at me, saying to herself there was no need of such a strong -man being afraid of such a visionary danger. She spoke after a -little silence. - -"Then let it be so, Mr. Ticehurst. If what you say be true, there at -least is nothing for you to fear." - -She looked at me straight then with her glorious blue eyes, and I -would have given worlds to catch her in my arms and press her to my -heart. She went on: - -"And if you never give me cause, why--" She was silent, but held out -her hand. - -I took it, pressed it, and would have raised it to my lips, only she -drew it gently away. But I went to rest happy that night. Give her -cause!--indeed, what cause could I give her? That is what I asked -myself, without knowing what was coming, without feeling my -ignorance, my blindness, and my helplessness in the strange web of -fate and fated crime which was being woven around me--without being -conscious, as an animal is in the prairie, of that storm, so ready to -burst on my head, whose first faint clouds had risen on the horizon -of my life, even before I had seen her, in the very hour that I had -joined the _Vancouver_ under my own brother's command. I went to -sleep, wondering vaguely what had become of him. But we are blind, -all of us, and see nothing until the curtain rises on act after act; -being ignorant still, whether the end shall be sweet or bitter to us, -whether it shall justify our smiles in happiness, or our tears in -some bitter tragedy. - - -For two days I worked in and about my house, putting things in some -order, and on the third I rode over to the Flemings' early in the -morning, as it had been arranged that I was to go out with Mr. -Fleming to look after some cattle of his, which a neighbor had -complained of. I never felt in better spirits than when I rode over -the short two miles which separated us, for the morning was calm and -bright, with a touch of that glorious freshness known only among -mountains or on high plateaus lifted up from the common level of the -under world. I even sang softly to myself, for the black cloud of -doubt, which but a few days ago had obscured all my light, was driven -away by a new dawning of hope, and I was content and without fear. I -shouted cheerfully for Fleming as I rode up, and he came to the door -with his whip over his arm, followed by the two girls. I alighted, -and shook hands all round. - -"Then you are ready, Mr. Fleming?" I asked. - -"When I have put the saddle on the black horse," he replied, as he -went toward the stable, leaving me standing there, for I was little -inclined to offer to assist him while Elsie remained outside the -house. Fanny was quite as mischievous as ever, and whether her -sister had told her anything of what had passed between us two days -before or not, she was evidently conscious that the relations between -Elsie and myself had somehow altered for the better. - -"How do you find yourself these days, Tom?" she asked, with a merry -twinkle in her eye. - -"Very well, Fanny," I answered. "Thanks for your inquiry." - -"Does the climate suit you, then? Or is it the surroundings?" - -"Both, my dear girl, as long as the sun shines on us!" I replied, -laughing, while Elsie turned away with a smile. - -Fanny almost winked at me, and then looked up the road toward Thomson -Forks, which ran close by the ranch and led toward an Indian -settlement on the Lake about ten miles away. - -"There's someone coming," she said, "and he's in a hurry. Isn't he -galloping, Mr. Ticehurst?" - -I looked up the road and saw somebody who certainly was coming down -the long slope from the crest of the hill with more than reasonable -rapidity. I looked, and then turned away carelessly. What was the -horseman to me? I leant against the post of the veranda, which some -former occupant of the house had ornamented by whittling with his -knife, until it was almost too thin to do its duty, and began to -speak to Fanny again, when I saw her blush and start. - -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," she said, "it's Mr. Harmer!" - -Then the horseman was something to me, after all. For what but some -urgent need would bring Jack, who was entirely ignorant of horses and -riding, at that breakneck gallop over the mountain road? My -carelessness went suddenly, and I felt my heart begin to beat with -unaccustomed violence. I turned pale, I know, as I watched him -coming nearer. I was quite unconscious that Elsie had rejoined her -sister, and stood behind me. - -Harmer came closer and closer, and when he saw us waved his hat. In -a moment he was at the gate, while I stood still at the house, and -did not move to go toward him. He alighted, opened the gate, and, -with his bridle over his aim, came up to us. He said good-morning to -the girls hurriedly, and turned to me. - -"You must come to Thomson Forks directly, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said, -gasping, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Something's happened, -I don't know what, and I can't tell; but she wants to see you at -once, and sent me off to fetch you--and so I came, and, oh! how sore -I am," and he wriggled suggestively, and in a way that would have -been comic under other circumstances. - -I caught hold of his arm. - -"What do you mean," I roared, "you young fool? What's happened, and -who wants to see me? Who's _she_?" - -He looked up in astonishment. - -"Why, didn't I say Mrs. Ticehurst, of course?" - -I let him go and fell against the post, making it crack as I did so. -I looked at Elsie, and she was white and stern. But she did not -avoid my eye. - -"Well, what is it--what's happened?" I said at last. - -"I don't know, I tell you, sir," said he almost piteously; "all I -know is that I was sent for to the sawmill by Dave, and when I came I -saw Mrs. Ticehurst; and she's dressed in black, sir, and she looked -dreadfully bad, and she just shook hands with me, and told me to -fetch you at once. And when I asked what for, she just stamped, sir, -and told me to go. And so I came, and that's all!" - -Surely it was enough. Much as I liked her, I would rather have met -Mat or the very devil in the way than had this happen now, when -things were going so well with me. And in black?--good God! had -anything happened to my brother? I turned white, I know, and almost -fell. - -"You had better go at once, Tom," laid Fanny, who held me by the arm. -I turned, I hardly know why, to her sister. Her face was very pale, -but her eyes glittered, and she looked like marble. I know my own -asked hers a question, but I got no response. I turned away toward -my horse, and then she spoke. - -"Mr. Ticehurst, let me speak to you one moment. Fanny, go and talk -to Mr. Harmer." - -And Fanny and I both obeyed her like children. - -She looked at me straight. - -"How could I prove you, Mr. Ticehurst," she said, in a low voice, -"was what I asked the other night. Now the means are in my power. -What are you going to do?" - -"I am going to the Forks," I said, in bewilderment. Her eyes -flashed, and she looked at me scornfully. - -"Then go, but don't ever speak to me again! Go!" - -And she turned away. I caught her arm. - -"Don't be unjust, Elsie!--don't be cruelly unjust!" I cried. What a -fool I was; I knew she loved me, and yet I asked her not to be cruel -and unjust. Can a woman or a man in love be anything else? - -"How can I stay away?" I asked passionately, "when my brother's wife -sends for me? And she is in black--poor Will must be dead!" - -If he was dead, then Helen was free. I saw that and so did Elsie, -and it hardened her more than ever, for she did not answer. - -"Look then, Elsie, I am going, and you say I shall not speak to you -again. You are cruel, very cruel--but I love you! And you shall -speak to me--aye, and one day ask my pardon for doubting me. But -even for you I cannot refuse this request of my own -sister-in-law--who is ill, alone, in sorrow and trouble, in a strange -land. For the present, good-by!" - -I turned away, took my horse from the fence, and rode off rapidly, -without thinking of Harmer, or of Fleming, who was standing in -amazement at his stable, as I saw when I opened the swing-gate. And -if Harmer had come up at a gallop, I went at one, until my horse was -covered with sweat, and the foam, flying from his champed bit, hung -about my knees like sea-foam that did not easily melt. In half an -hour I was at Conlan's door, and was received by Dave. In two -minutes I stood in Helen's presence. - -When I saw her last she had that rich red complexion which showed the -pure color of the blood through a delicate skin; her eyes were -piercing and perhaps a little hard, and her figure was full and -beautiful. She had always rejoiced, too, in bright colors, such as -an Oriental might have chosen, and their richness had suited her -striking appearance. But now she was woefully altered, and I barely -knew her. The color had deserted her cheeks, which were wan and -hollow; her eyes were sunken and ringed with dark circles, and her -bust had fallen in until she looked like the ghost of her former -self, a ghost that was but a mere vague memory of her whom I had -first known in Melbourne. - -Her dress, too, was black, which I knew she hated, and in which she -looked even less like herself. Her voice, when she spoke, no longer -rang out with assurance, but faltered ever and again with the tears -that rose to her eyes and checked her utterance. - -I took her hand, full of pity for her, and dread of what she had to -tell me, for it must be something dreadful which had changed her so -much and brought her so far. - -"What is it, Helen?" I said, in a low voice. - -"What did I come for, you mean, Tom?" she asked, though desiring no -answer. "I came for your sake--and not for Will's. I thought you -might never get a letter, and I wanted to see you once again. Ah! -how much I desired that. Tom, you are in danger!" she spoke that -suddenly--"in danger every moment! For that man who threatened your -life----" - -I nodded, sucking my dry lips, for I knew what she meant, and I was -only afraid of what else she had to tell me. - -"That man has escaped, and has not been caught. O Tom, be -careful--be careful! If you were to die, too----" - -"What do you mean, Helen?" I asked, though I knew full well what she -meant. She looked at me. - -"Can't you think? Yes, you can perhaps partly; but not all--not all -the horror of it. Tom, Will is dead! And not only that, but he was -murdered in San Francisco!" - -I staggered, and sat down staring at her. She went on in a curiously -constrained voice. - -"Yes; the very first night we came ashore, and in our hotel! He was -intoxicated, and came in late, and I wouldn't have him in my room. I -made them put him in the next, and I heard him shouting out of his -window over the veranda soon afterward, and then I fell asleep. And -in the morning I found him--I myself found him dead in bed, struck -right through with a stab in the heart. And he was robbed, too. -Tom, it nearly killed me, it was so horrible--oh, it was horrible! I -didn't know what to do. I was going to send for you, and then I read -in the paper about Mat having escaped two days before, so I came away -at once." - -She ceased and sobbed violently; and I kept silence. God alone knows -what was in my heart, and how it came there; but for a moment--yes, -and for more than that--I suspected her, his wife, of my brother's -murder! I was blind enough, I suppose, and so was she; but then so -many times in life we wonder suddenly at our want of sight when the -truth comes out. I remembered she had once said she hated him, and -could kill him. And besides, she loved me. I shivered and was still -silent. She looked up and caught my eye, which, I knew, was full of -doubt. She rose up suddenly, came to me, fell on her knees, and -cried: - -"No, no, Tom--not that! For God's sake, don't look at me so!" - -And I knew she saw my very heart, and I was ashamed of myself. I -lifted her up and put her on a chair. Heavens! how light she was to -what she had been, for her soul had wasted her body away like a -strong wind fanning a fire. - -"Poor Will!" I said at last, and then I asked if she had remained for -the inquest. No, she had not, she answered. I started at her reply. -If I could think what I had, what might others not do? For her to -disappear like that after the murder of her husband was enough to -make people believe her guilty of the crime, and I wondered that she -had not been prevented from leaving. But on questioning her further, -I learnt that the police suspected a certain man who was a frequenter -of that very hotel; and, after the manner of their kind, had got him -in custody, and were devoting all their attention to proving him -guilty of the crime, whether there were _prima facie_ proofs or not. -Still, it seemed bitter that poor Will should be left to strangers -while his wife came to see me; and though she had done it to save me, -as she thought, yet, after all, the danger was hardly such as to -warrant her acting as she had done. But I was not the person to -blame her. She had done it, poor woman, because she yet loved me, as -I knew even then. But I saw, too, that it was love without hope; and -even if it had not been, she must have learnt that I was near to -Elsie; and that I was "courting old Fleming's gal" was the common -talk whenever my name was mentioned. I tried to convince myself that -she had most likely ceased to think of me, and I preferred to believe -it was only the daily and hourly irritation of poor Will's conduct -which had driven her to compare me with him to his disadvantage. -Well, whatever his faults were, they had been bitterly expiated; as, -indeed, such faults as his usually are. It does not require -statistics to convince anyone who has seen much of the world that -most of the trouble in it comes directly from drink. - -I was in a strange situation as I sat reflecting. I suppose strict -duty required me to go to San Francisco, and yet Will would be buried -before I could get there. Then what was I to do with his widow? She -could not stay there, I could not allow it, nor did I think she -desired it. Still she was not fit to travel in her state of nervous -exhaustion; indeed, it was a marvel that she had been able to come so -far, even under the stimulus of such unwonted excitement. I could -not go away with her even for a part of the return journey, for I -felt Elsie would be harder and harder to manage the more she knew I -saw of Helen. I ended by coming to the conclusion that she must stay -at the Forks for a while, and that I must go back and try to have an -explanation with Elsie. Helen bowed her head in acquiescence when I -told her what she had better do, for the poor woman was utterly -broken down, and ready to lean on any arm that was offered her; and -she, who had been so strong in her own will, was at last content to -be advised like an obedient child. I left her with Mrs. Conlan, to -whom I told as much as I thought desirable, and, kissing her on the -forehead, I took my horse and rode slowly toward home. - -As I left the town I saw Siwash Jim sitting on the sidewalk, and he -looked at me with a face full of diabolical hatred. When I got to -the crest of the hill above the town I turned in the saddle, and saw -him still gazing after me. - -When half-way home I met Harmer, who was riding even slower than I, -and sitting as gingerly in the saddle as if he were very -uncomfortable, as I had no doubt he was. - -"Well, Mr. Ticehurst," said he eagerly, when we came near, "what was -it?" - -I told him, and he looked puzzled. - -"Well," he remarked at last, "it seems to me I must have been -mistaken after all, and that I didn't see Mat when I thought I did. -Let me see, when did he escape?" - -I reckoned it up, and it was only twelve days ago, for Helen had -taken nine days coming from San Francisco, according to what she told -me. - -"Then it is impossible for me to have seen him in New Westminster," -said Harmer. "But it is very strange that I should have imagined I -did see him, and that he did escape after all." - -Then I told him of my brother's death. - -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," he exclaimed, "Matthias must have done it -himself! He must--don't you see he must?" - -The thought had not entered into my head. - -"No," said I; "I don't see it at all. There's a man in custody for -it now, and it is hardly likely Mat would stay in San Francisco, if -he escaped, for two days. Besides, it is even less likely that he -would fall across my brother the very first evening he came ashore." - -Harmer shook his head obstinately. - -"We shall see, sir--we shall see. You know he didn't like Captain -Ticehurst much better than you. Then, you say he was robbed of his -papers. Was your address among them, do you think?" - -I started, for Jack's suspicion seemed possible after all. The -thing, looked more likely than it had done at first sight. And yet -it was only my cowardice that made me think so. I shook my head, but -answered "yes" to his question. - -"Then pray, Mr. Ticehurst, be careful," said Jack earnestly, "and -carry your revolver always. Besides, that fellow Jim is about again. -You hardly hurt him at all; he must be made of iron, and I heard last -night he threatened to have your life." - -"Threatened men live long, Jack," said I. "I am not scared of him. -That's only talk and blow. I don't care much if Mat doesn't get on -my track. He would be dangerous. Did you see Miss Fleming before -you left?" I said, turning the conversation. - -He shook his head. She had gone to her room, and remained there when -I went away. - -"Well, Harmer, I shall be in town the day after to-morrow," I said at -last, "and if anything happens, you can send me word; and go and see -Mrs. Ticehurst meanwhile." - -"I will do that," said he, "but to-morrow morning I have to go up the -lake to the logging camp, and don't know when I shall be back. -That's what Custer said this morning, when I asked him to let me come -over here." - -"Very well, it won't matter, I dare say," I answered. "Take care of -yourself, Jack." - -"Oh, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, turning round in the saddle, and -wincing as he did so, "it is you who must be careful! Pray, do be -very careful!" - -I nodded, shook hands, and rode on. - -When I came to the Flemings', Fanny was at the big gate, and she -asked a question by her eyes before we got close enough to speak. - -"Yes, Fanny," said I, "it was serious." And then I told her what had -occurred. She held out her hand and pressed mine sympathetically. - -"I am so sorry, Tom," was all she said; but she said it so kindly -that her voice almost brought the tears to my eyes. - -"Has Elsie spoken to you since I went, Fanny?" I asked, as we walked -down to the house together, while my horse followed with his head -hanging down. - -"I haven't even seen her, Tom," she replied; "the door was locked, -and when I knocked she told me to go away, which, as it's my room -too, was not very polite." - -In spite of my love for Elsie, I felt somewhat bitter against her -injustice to me, and I was glad to see that I made her suffer a -little on her part. I know I have said very little about my own -feelings, for I don't care somehow to put down all that I felt, any -more than I like to tell any stranger all that is near my heart; but -I did feel strongly and deeply, and to see her, who was with me by -day and night as the object of my fondest hope, so unjust, was enough -to make me bitter. I wished to reproach her, for I was not a -child--a boy, to be fooled with like this. - -"Go and ask her to see me, Fanny, please," I said rather sternly, as -I stood outside the door. "And don't tell her anything of what I -told you, either of Will or Matthias." - -Fanny started. - -"You never said anything of Matthias!" she cried. - -"Didn't I, Fanny? Well, then, I will. He has escaped from prison, -and I suppose he is after me by this. But don't tell Elsie. Just -say I want to see her." - -In a few moments she came back, with tears in her eyes. - -"She won't, Tom! She is in an obstinate fit, I know. And though she -is crying her eyes out--the spiteful cat!--she won't come. I know -her. She just told me to go away. What shall I do?" she asked. - -"Nothing, Fanny," I answered; "you can tell her what you like. Will -you be so cruel to your lover, little Fanny?" - -She looked up saucily. - -"I don't know, Tom; I shall see when I have one"--and she laughed. - -"What about Jack Harmer, then?" - -"Well, you see," and she looked down, "he's very young." She wasn't -more than seventeen herself, and looked younger. "And, besides, I -don't care for anybody but Elsie and father and you, Tom." - -"Very well, Fanny," said I; "give me a kiss from Elsie, and make her -give it you back." - -"I will, Tom," she said quite simply, and, kissing her, I rode off -quietly across the flat to my solitary home. - - - - -PART V - -AT THE BLACK CAÑON. - -Now, as far as I have gone in this story, I have related nothing -which I did not see or hear myself, which is, as it seems to me, the -proper way to do it, provided nothing important is left out. But as -I have learnt since then what happened to other people, and have -pieced the story together in my mind, I see it is necessary to depart -from the rule I have observed hitherto, if I don't want to explain, -after I have come to the end of the whole history, what occurred -before; and that, I can see, would be a very clumsy way of narrating -any affair. Now, what I am going to tell I have on very good -evidence, for Dave at the Forks, and Conlan's stableman told me part, -and afterward, as will be seen, I actually learnt something from -Siwash Jim himself, who here plays rather a curious and important -part. - -It appears that the day after I was at the Forks (which day I spent, -by the way, with Mr. Fleming, riding round the country, returning -afterward by the trail which led from the Black Cañon down to my -house) Siwash Jim, who had to all appearance recovered from the -injuries, which, however, were only bruises, that I had inflicted on -him, began to drink early in the morning. He had, so Dave says, -quite an unnatural power of keeping sober--and Dave himself can drink -more than any two men I am acquainted with, unless it is Mac, my old -partner, so he ought to know. And though Jim drank hard, he did not -become drunk, but only abused me. He called me all the names from -coyote upward and downward which a British Columbian of any standing -has at his tongue's end, and when Jim had exhausted the resources of -the fertile American language, he started in Siwash or Indian, in -which there are many choice terms of abuse. But in spits of his -openness, Dave says it was quite evident he was dangerous, and that I -might really have been in peril at any time of the day if I had come -to town, for Jim was deemed a bad character among his companions, and -had, so it was said, killed one man at least, though he had never -been tried for it. But though he sat all day in the bar, using my -name openly, he never made a move till eight in the evening, when he -went out for awhile. - -When he returned he was accompanied by a thin dark man, wearing a -slouch hat over his eyes, whom Dave took to be a half-breed of some -kind, and they had drinks together, for which the stranger paid, -speaking in good English, but not with a Western accent. Then the -two went to the other side of the room. What their conversation was, -no one knows exactly, nor did I ever learn; but Dave, who was keeping -his eye on Jim, says that it seemed as if the stranger was trying to -persuade Jim to be quiet and stay where he was, and from what -occurred afterward there is little doubt his supposition was correct. -Moreover, my name undoubtedly occurred in this conversation, for Dave -heard it, and the name of my ranch as well. Soon after that some men -came in, and, in consequence of his being busy, Dave did not see Jim -go out. But Conlan's stableman says Jim came to the stable with the -stranger and got his horse. When asked where he was going, he said -for a ride, and would answer no more questions. And all the time the -strange man tried to persuade him not to go, and to come and have -another drink. If Jim had been flush of money there might have been -a motive for this, but as he was not, there seemed then to be none -beyond the sudden and absurd fondness that men sometimes conceive for -each other when drunk. But if this were the case, it was only on the -stranger's side, for when the horse was brought round to the door Jim -mounted it, and when the other man still importuned him not to go, -Siwash Jim struck at him with his left hand and knocked off his hat -as he stood in the light coming from the bar. And just then -attention was drawn from Jim by a sudden shriek from the other side -of the road where Conlan's private house stood. When Dave came out -and looked for him again, both he and the other man had disappeared -down the road, which branched about half a mile out of town into two -forks, one leading eastward and the other southward to the Flemings'. - -Now, as I said before, most of that day I had been out riding with -Mr. Fleming, who left me early, in order to go to the next ranch down -the road, and I had told him the whole story about Mat's escape, and -my brother's death; which he agreed with me were hardly likely to be -connected. Yet he acknowledged if they were I was in much more -danger than one would have thought before, because such a deed would -show the Malay was a desperado of the most fearless and dangerous -description; and besides, if he had robbed Will, it was more than -likely he knew where I was from my own letters, or from my address -written in a pocketbook my brother always carried, and which was -missing. Of course, this conversation made me full, as it were, of -Mat; and that, combined with the unlucky turn affairs had taken with -regard to Elsie, made me more nervous than I was inclined to -acknowledge to her father. So before I went to bed, which I did at -ten o'clock--for I was very tired, being still unaccustomed to much -riding--I locked my door carefully, and put the table against it, -neither of which things I had ever done before, and which I was -almost inclined to undo at once, for it seemed cowardly to me. Yet I -thought of Elsie, and, still hoping to win her, I was careful of my -life. I went to sleep, in spite of my nervous preoccupation, almost -as soon as I lay down, and I suppose I must have been asleep two -hours before I woke out of a horrible dream. I thought that I was on -board ship, in my own berth, lying in the bunk, and that Mat was on -my chest strangling me with his long lithe fingers. And all the time -I heard, as I thought, the sails flap, as though the vessel had come -up in the wind. As I struggled--and I did struggle desperately--the -blood seemed to go up into my head and eyes, until I saw the fiend's -face in a red light, and then I woke. The house was on fire, and I -was being suffocated! As the flames worked in from the outside, and -made the scorching timbers crack again and again, I sprang out of -bed. I had lain down with my trousers on, and, seeing at once there -must be foul play for the house to catch fire on the outside, and at -the back too, where I never went, I drew on my boots, snatched my -revolver up, and leapt at the front window, through which I went with -a crash, uttering a loud cry as I did so, for a piece of the glass -cut my left arm deeply. As I came to the ground, I saw a horseman in -front of me, and by the light of the fire, which had already mounted -to the roof of the house, I recognized Siwash Jim. Then, whether it -was that the horse he rode was frightened at the crash I made or not, -it suddenly bounded into the air, turned sharp round, and bolted into -the brush, just where the trail came down from the Black Cañon. As -Jim disappeared, I fired, but with no effect; and that my shot was -neither returned nor anticipated was, I saw, due to the fact that the -villain had dropped his own six-shooter, probably at the first bound -of his horse, just where he had been standing. - -I was in a blind fury of rage, for such a cowardly and treacherous -attack on an unoffending man's life seemed hardly credible to me. -And there my home was burning, and it was no fault of his that I was -not burning with it, or shot dead outside my own door. But he should -not escape, if I chased him for a month. I was glad he had been -forced to take the trail, for there was no possible outlet to it for -miles, so thick was the brush in that mountainous region. -Fortunately, I now had two horses; and the one in my stable, which I -had only bought from Fleming a week before, was not the one I had -been riding all that day. I threw the saddle on him, clinched it up -tightly, and led him out. I carried both the weapons, my own and -Jim's, and I rode up the narrow and winding path in a blind and -desperate fury, which seldom comes to a man, but it when it does it -makes him careless of his own life and utterly reckless; and as I -rode, in a fashion I had never done before, even though I trusted a -mountain-bred and forest-trained horse, I swore that I myself should -die that night, or that Siwash Jim should feel the just weight of my -wrath. But before I can tell the terrible story of that terrible -night I must return once more, and for the last time, to Thomson -Forks. - -I said, some pages back, that attention had been drawn from Siwash -Jim and his strange companion by a sudden shriek from Ned Conlan's -house. That shriek had been uttered by Helen, who was still staying -with Mrs. Conlan, as she and her hostess were standing outside in the -dying twilight, and, after screaming, she had fainted, remaining -insensible for nearly half an hour. When Dr. Smith, as he called -himself--though an Englishman has natural doubts as to how the -practitioners in the West earn their diplomas--had helped her -recovery, she spoke at once in a state of nervous excitement painful -to witness. - -"Oh, I saw him--I saw him!" she said, in an hysterical voice. - -"Who, my dear?" asked Mrs. Conlan, in what people call a comforting -way. - -"Where is Mr Conlan?" was Helen's answer. He came into the room in -which she was lying. Helen turned to him at once. - -"Mr. Conlan, I want you to take me out to my brother-in-law's -house--to Mr. Ticehurst's farm!" - -They all exclaimed against her foolishness and demanded why; while -Conlan scratched his head in a puzzled manner. - -"I tell you I must see him to-night, and at once! For I saw the man -who swore to kill him." - -The bystanders shook their heads sagely, thinking she was mad, but -Conlan asked if she meant Siwash Jim. - -"No," she said, "it was not Jim." But she must go, and she would. -With an extraordinary exhibition of strength, she rose and ordered -horses in an imperative tone, saying she was quite well enough to do -as she liked. - -Mrs. Conlan appealed to the doctor, and he, perhaps being glad to -advise against the opinion of those present, as such a course might -indicate his superior knowledge, said he thought it best to let her -have her own way. I think, too, that Helen, who seemed to have -regained her strength, had regained with it her old power of making -people do as she wished. At any rate, Mr. Conlan meekly acquiesced, -and, saying he would drive her himself, went out to order horses at -once. When the buggy was brought to the door, Helen got up without -assistance, and begged him to be quick. His wife, who would never -have dared to even suggest his hurrying, stood aghast at seeing her -usually masterful husband do as he was bid. They drove off, leaving -Mrs. Conlan to prophesy certain death as the result of this -inexplicable expedition, while the others speculated, more or less -wildly, as to what it all meant. - -Conlan told me that Helen never spoke all the way except to ask how -much longer they were going to be, or to complain of the slowness of -the pace. - -"Most women," said Ned, "would have been scared at the way I drove, -for it was pitch dark; and if the horses hadn't known the road as -well, or better, than I did, we should have come to grief in the -first mile. But she never turned a hair. She was a wonderful woman, -sir!" - -It was already past eleven o'clock when they got to the top of the -hill just above Fleming's, and from there the light of my house -burning could be distinctly seen, although the place itself was -hidden by a rise, and Helen pointed to it, nervously demanding what -it was. - -"Ticehurst must have been burning brush," said Conlan, offering the -very likeliest explanation. But Helen said, "No, no," impatiently, -and told him to hurry. Just then Conlan remembered that he did not -know the road across from Fleming's to my place, and said so. - -"You had better stop at Fleming's, and send for him. They aint in -bed yet, ma'am. I see their light." - -"I don't want to see the Flemings; I want Mr. Ticehurst," said Helen -obstinately. - -"Well, we must stop at Fleming's," said Conlan, "if it's only to ask -the way. I don't know the road, and I'm not going to kill you and -myself by driving into the creek such a night as this." - -And Helen was fain to acquiesce, for she could not do otherwise. - -When they reached the house Fanny was standing outside, and as the -light from the open door fell on Helen's pallid face, she screamed. - -"Good Heavens, Mrs. Ticehurst! Is it you?" she cried--"and you, Mr. -Conlan? Oh, I am so glad!--father's away, and Mr. Ticehurst's house -must be on fire." - -"Ah!" said Helen, "I thought so. Oh, oh! he's dead, I know he's -dead! I must go to him! Fanny, dear, can you show us the way--can -you? You must! Perhaps we can save him yet!" - -She frightened Fanny terribly, for her face was so pale and her eyes -glittered so, and for a moment the girl could hardly speak. - -"I don't know it by night, Mrs. Ticehurst; but Elsie does," she said -at last. - -"Where is she, then?" said Helen eagerly. - -"She's gone over there now," cried Fanny, "for father had not come -home; and when we saw the fire, we were afraid something had -happened, so Elsie took the black horse and went over. She's there -now." - -"Then what shall we do?" cried Helen, in an agony, "he will be -killed!" - -"What is it, Mrs. Ticehurst?" asked Fanny, trembling all over. "Oh, -what is it!" - -But she took no notice and sat like a statue, only she breathed hard -and heavily, and her hands twitched; as she looked toward my burning -home. - -"Silence!" she cried suddenly, though no one spoke. "There is -somebody coming." - -And the three of them looked into the darkness, in which there was a -white figure moving rapidly. - -"It is Elsie!" screamed Fanny joyfully; and Helen sprang from the -buggy, and stood in the light, as Elsie exclaimed in wonder at -Fanny's excited voice. - -The two women stood face to face, looking in each other's eyes, and -then Elsie, who for one moment had shown nothing but surprise, went -white with scorn and anger. How glad I should have been to have seen -her so, or to have learnt, even at that moment when I stood in the -greatest peril I have ever known, that she had ridden over to save or -help me, even though her acts but added a greater danger to those in -which I already stood. For her deed and her look were the deed and -look of a woman who loves and is jealous. But it might have seemed -to me, had I been there, that Helen's coming had overbalanced the -scale once more against me, and perhaps for the last time. I am glad -I did not know that fear until it was only imagination, and the -imaginary canceling of a series of events, that could place me again -in such a situation. - -The two women looked at each other, and then Elsie turned away. - -"Stop, stop!" cried Helen; "what has happened? Where is Mr. -Ticehurst?" - -"What is that to you?" said Elsie cruelly, and with her eyes flaming. - -"Tell us, Elsie," said Fanny imploringly. - -"I will _not_!" said her sister--"not to this woman! Go back, Mrs. -Ticehurst! What are you doing here?" - -Helen caught her by the arm, and looked in her face. - -"Girl, I know your thoughts!" she said; "but you are wrong--I tell -you, you are wrong! You love him----" - -"I do not!" said Elsie angrily. "I love no other woman's lover!" - -Surely, though there were two dazed onlookers, these women were in a -state to speak their natural minds. - -"Girl, girl!" said Helen, once more, "I tell you again, you are -wrong! You are endangering _your_ lover's life. Is he not your -lover, or did you go over there to find out nothing? I tell you, I -came to save him, and to save him for you--no, not for you, you are -not worth it, though he thinks you perfection! You are a wicked -girl, and a fool! Come, come! why don't you speak? What has become -of him? Is he over there now?" - -Elsie was silent, but yielding. Fanny spoke again. - -"Elsie--Elsie, speak--answer her! What happened over there, and -where is the horse?" - -Elsie turned to her, as though disdaining to answer Helen. - -"Someone set his house on fire, I think; perhaps it was Jim, and Mr. -Ticehurst has gone after him!" - -"Ah!" said Helen, as if relieved, "if that is all! How did you know -he is gone--did you see him, speak to him?" - -"No," said Elsie; "I did not!" - -"Then how do you know?" cried Fanny and Helen, together. - -"There was a man there----" - -Helen cried out as if she were struck, and Elsie paused. - -"Go on!" the other cried--"go on!" - -"And when I came up he was sitting by the house. I asked him if Mr. -Ticehurst was there----" - -"Oh, you fool!" groaned Helen, but only Fanny heard it. - -"And he got up," continued Elsie, "and said there was no one there, -but just as he was coming from his camp to see what the fire was, he -heard a shot, and when he got to the house he saw somebody just -disappear up the trail toward the cañon." - -"Did you know him?" said Helen, as Elsie paused to take breath, for -when she began to speak she spoke rapidly, and, conceal it as she -would, it was evident she was in a fearful state of excitement. - -"No," said Elsie; "but I think I have seen him before." - -"Where is he, then?" cried Helen, holding her hand to her heart. "Is -he there still?" - -"No," cried Fanny, almost joyfully, "you gave him your horse to go -and find Tom, and help him, didn't you, Elsie?" - -And Helen screamed out in a terrible voice, "No, no! you did not, you -did not--say you did not, girl!" - -Elsie, who had turned whiter and whiter, turned to her suddenly. - -"Yes, I did," she cried; "I did give him the horse." - -Helen lifted her hands up over her head with an awful gesture of -despair, and fell on her knees, catching hold of both the girls' -dresses. But she held up and spoke. - -"Oh, you wretched, unhappy girl!" she cried. "What have you -done--what _have_ you done? To whom did you give the horse? I know, -I know! I saw him this very night--the man who swore to be revenged -on him if it were after a century. The man who nearly killed him -once, and who has escaped from prison. You have given him the means -of killing your lover--you have given Tom Ticehurst up to Matthias, -to a murderer--a murderer!" - -And she fell back, and this time did not recover herself, but lay -insensible, still holding the girls' dresses with as desperate a -clutch as though she were keeping back from following me the man who -was upon my track that terrible midnight. But Elsie stooped, freed -her dress, and saying to Fanny, "See to her--see to her!" ran down to -the stable again, just as her father rode through the higher gate. - -And as that girl, who had known and ridden from her childhood, was -saddling the first one she came to in the stable, I was riding hard -and desperately in the dark not a quarter of a mile behind Siwash Jim. - - -The trail upon which we both were ran from my house, straight up into -the mountains for nearly ten miles, and then followed the verge of -the Black Cañon for more than a mile farther. When I came up to that -place I stayed for one moment, and heard the dull and sullen roar of -the broken waters three hundred feet beneath me, and then I rode on -again as though I was as irresistibly impelled as they were, and was -just as bound to cut my way through what Fate had placed before as -they had been to carve that narrow and tremendous chasm in the living -rock. And at last I came to a fork in the trail. If I had not been -there before with Mr. Fleming, I should most likely have never seen -Jim that night, perhaps never again. But we had stayed at that very -spot. The left-hand fork was the main track, and led right over the -mountains into the Nicola Valley; while the left and disused one, -which was partially obliterated by thick-growing weeds, led back -through the impassable scrub and rough rocks to the middle of the -Black Cañon. I had passed that end of it without thinking, for -indeed it was scarcely likely he would have turned off there. The -chances seemed a thousand to one that Jim would take the left-hand -path, but just because it did seem so certain, I alighted from my -horse and struck a light. The latest horse track led to the right -hand! He had relied on my taking the widest path, and continuing in -it until it was too late to catch a man who had so skillfully doubled -on me. I had no doubt that his curses at losing his revolver were -changed into chuckles, as he thought of me riding headlong in the -night, until my horse was exhausted, while he was returning the way I -had come. I stopped to think, and then, getting on my horse, I rode -back slowly to where the trails joined at the edge of the Cañon. I -would wait for him there. And I waited more than half an hour. - -It is strange how such little circumstances alter everything, for not -only would Jim's following the Nicola trail have resulted in -something very different, but, waiting half an hour, during which I -cooled somewhat and lost the first blind rage of passion in which I -had set out, set me reflecting as to what I should do. If I had come -up with him at full gallop I should have shot him there and then. He -would have expected it, and it would have been just vengeance; but -now I was quietly waiting for him, and to shoot him when he appeared -seemed to me hardly less cowardly conduct than his own. Then, if I -gave him warning, he would probably escape me, and I was not so -generous as to let him have the chance. Yet, in after years, seeing -all that followed from what I did, I think I was more generous than -just. I ought to have regarded myself as the avenging arm of the -law, and have struck as coolly as an executioner. But I determined -to give him a chance for his life, though giving him that was risking -my own, which I held dear, if only for Elsie's sake; and so I backed -my horse into the brush, where I commanded both trails, and, cocking -both revolvers, I sat waiting. In half an hour I heard the tramp of -a horse, though at first I could not tell from which way the sound -came. But at last I saw that I had been right in my conjecture, and -that my enemy was given into my hands. My heart beat fast, but my -hands were steady, for I had full command over myself. I waited -until he was nearly alongside of me, and then I spoke. - -"Throw up your hands, Siwash Jim!" I said, in a voice that rang out -over the roar of the waters below us, "or you are a dead man!" - -And he threw them up, and as he sat there I could see his horse was -wearied out. If it had not been, perhaps my voice would have -startled it, and compelled me to fire. - -"What are you going to do?" said he, sullenly peering in my -direction, for he could barely see me against my background of trees -and brush, whereas I had him against the sky. - -"I will tell you, you miserable scoundrel!" I answered. "But first, -get off your horse, and do it slowly, or I will put two bullets -through you! Mind me!" - -He dismounted slowly. - -"Tie your horse to that sapling, if you will be kind enough," I said -further; "and don't be in a hurry about it, and don't attempt to get -behind it, or you know what will happen." - -When he had done as I ordered, I spoke again. - -"Have you got any matches?" - -"Yes," he replied. - -"Of course you have, you villain! The same you set my house on fire -with. Well, now rake up some brush, and make a little fire here." - -"What for?" said he quickly, for I believe he thought for a moment I -meant to roast him alive. I undeceived him if that was his idea. - -"So that we can see each other," I replied, "for I'm going to give -you a chance for your life, though you don't deserve it. Where's -your six-shooter?" - -"I dropped it," he grunted. - -"And I picked it up," said I. "So make haste if you don't want to be -killed with your own weapon!" - -What his thoughts were I can't say, but without more words he set -about making a fire, soon having a vigorous blaze, by which I saw -plainly enough the looks of fear, distrust, and hatred he cast at me. -But he piled on the branches, though I checked him once or twice when -I thought he was going too far to gather them. When there was -sufficient light to illuminate the whole space about us and the -opposing bank of the cañon, I told him that was enough. - -"That will do," I said; "go and stand at the edge of the cañon!" - -He hesitated. - -"You're not going to shoot me like a dog, and put me down there, are -you?" said he, trembling. - -"Like a dog?" said I passionately; "did you not try to smother me -like a bear in his den, to burn me alive in my own house? Do as I -tell you, or I'll shoot you now and roll your body in the river! Go!" - -And he went as I asked him. - -"Have you got any cartridges?" I demanded. - -He pointed to his belt, and growled that he had plenty. - -"Then stay there, and I will tell you what I will do with you. I am -going to empty your revolver, and you can have it when it is empty. -I will get off my horse and then you can load it again, and when I -see you have filled it, you can do your best for yourself. Do you -hear me?" - -He nodded his head, and kept his eyes fixed on me anxiously, as -though not daring to hope I was going to be so foolish as my word. -But I was, even to the extent of firing his revolver into the air, -though I had no suspicion of what I was really doing, nor what such -an act would bring about. - -I alighted from my horse, and let him go, for there was no danger of -his running away. I even struck him lightly, and sent him up the -trail out of the way of accident; and then, keeping my own revolver -pointed at Jim, who stood like a statue, I raised his in my left -hand. I fired, and the reports rang out over the hills. I threw -Siwash Jim his weapon, saying: - -"Load the chambers slowly, and count as you do so." - -What a fool I was, to be sure, not to have shot him dead and let him -lie! Though I should not have been free from the dangers that -encompassed me, yet they would have been fewer, far fewer, and more -easily contended with. But I acted as Fate would have, and even as I -counted I heard Jim count too, in a strained, hoarse voice--one, two, -three, four, five, six--and he was an armed man again, armed in the -light, almost half-way between us, that glittered in his eyes and -fell on my face. And it was his life or mine; his life that was -worth nothing, and mine that was precious with the possibilities of -love that I yet knew not, of love that was hurrying toward me even -then, side by side with hate and death. - -When Jim's weapon was loaded, he turned toward me with the barrel -pointed to the ground. His eyes were fixed on mine, fixed with a -look of fear and hatred, but hatred now predominated. I lowered my -own revolver until we both stood on equal terms. - -"Look," said I sternly; "you see that burning branch above the fire. -It is already half burnt through; when it falls, look out for -yourself." - -And he stood still, perfectly still, while behind and under him the -flood in the cañon fretted and roared menacingly, angrily, hungrily, -and the sappy branch cracked and cracked again. It was bending, -bending slowly, but not yet falling, when Jim threw his weapon up and -fired, treacherous to the last. But his aim was not sure, no surer -than mine when I returned his shot. As we both fired again, I felt a -sting in my left shoulder, and the branch fell, slowly, slowly--ah! -as slowly as Jim did, for he sank on his knees, rolled over sideways, -and slipped backward on the verge of the cañon, its sloping, -treacherous verge. And as he slipped, he caught a long root -disclosed by the falling earth, and with the last strength of life -hung on to it, a yard below me; as I ran to the edge, and stopped -there, horror-struck. My desire for vengeance was satisfied, more -than satisfied, for if I could have restored him to solid ground and -life I would have done it, and bidden him go his way, so that I saw -him no more. For his face was ghastly and horrible to see; his lips -disclosed his teeth as he breathed through them convulsively, and his -nostrils were widely distended. I knelt down and vainly reached out -my hands. But he was a yard below me, and to go half that distance -meant death for me as well. I knelt there and saw him fail -gradually; his eyes closed and opened again and again; he caught his -lower lip between his teeth and bit it through and through, and then -his head fell back, his hands relaxed, and he was gone. And I heard -the sullen plunge of his body as it fell three hundred feet into the -waters below. I remained still and motionless for a moment. What a -thing man was that he should do such deeds! I rose, and a feeling of -sorrow and remorse for this terrible death of a fellow-creature made -me stagger. I put my hand to my brow, and then peered over the edge -of the cañon. What was I looking for? Was I looking into the river -of Fate? I took my revolver and threw it into the cañon, that it -should slay no other man. As it fell it struck a projecting rock, -and, exploding, the echoes in the narrow space roared and thundered -up the gorge toward the east, where, just beyond the mountains, the -first faint signs of rosy dawn were written upon the heavens. Was -that an omen of peace and love to me, of a fairer, brighter day? I -lifted my heart above and prayed it might be so. But it was yet -night, still dark, and the darkest hour is before the dawn, for as I -turned my back to the cañon and stepped across to the fire which had -lighted poor, foolish, ignorant Jim to his death, I looked up, and -saw before me the thin face I feared more than all others, and the -wicked eyes of my escaped enemy, Matthias of the _Vancouver_. - -I have never believed myself a coward, for I have faced death too -often, and but a few minutes ago I had risked my life in a manner -which few men would have imitated; but I confess that in the horrible -surprise of that moment, in the strange unexpectedness of this sudden -and most unlooked-for appearance, I was stricken dumb and motionless, -and stood glaring at him with opened eyes, while my heart's blood ran -cold, For I was unarmed, by my own act of revulsion and remorse; and -wounded too, for I could feel the blood trickle slowly from my -shoulder that had been deeply scored by the second bullet from Jim's -revolver. And I was in the same position that I had put him in, in a -clear space with thick brush on both sides, through which there was -no escape, and in which there was no shelter but a single tree to the -left of the blazing fire, which was already gradually crawling in the -dry brush. Surely I was delivered into my enemy's hands, for he was -armed and carried a revolver, on whose bright barrel the fire glinted -harshly. How long we stood facing each other I cannot say, but it -seemed hours. If he had but fired then, he might have killed me at -once, for I was unable to move; but he did not desire that, I could -see he did not, as his hot eyes devoured me and gleamed with a light -of savage joy and triumph. He spoke at last, and in a curiously -quiet voice, that was checked every now and again with a sort of sob -which made me shiver. - -"Ah! Mr. Ticehurst," he said slowly, "you know me? You look as if -you did. I am glad you feel like that. You are afraid!" - -I looked at him and answered: - -"It is a lie!" - -And from that time forward it was a lie, for I feared no more. - -"No," he said, "I think not; you are pale, and just now you shook. I -don't shake, even after what I have been through. Look at me!" - -He pointed his weapon at me, and his hand was as steady as a rock. -He lowered it again and stroked the barrel softly with his lean left -hand. - -"You remember what I said to you," he went on, "don't you, Thomas -Ticehurst? I do, and I have kept my word. Ah! I have thought of -this many times, many times. They tortured me and treated me like a -dog in the jail you sent me to; they beat me, and kicked me, and -starved me, but I never complained, lest my time there should be -longer. And when I lay down at night I thought of the time when I -should kill you. I knew it would come, and it has. But just now, -when I saw you by the side of your own grave, looking down, I didn't -know whether it was you or the other man, and I thought perhaps he -had killed you. If it had been he, I would have killed him." - -He paused, and I still stood there with a flood of thoughts rushing -through me. What should I do? If he had taken his eyes off mine for -but one single moment I would have sprung on him; but he did not, and -while he talked, I heard the horses champing their bits in the brush. -And cruelest of all, my own horse moved, and put his head through the -branches and looked at me. Oh, if I were only on his back! But I -did not speak. - -"How shall I kill you?" said Matthias at last; "I would like to cut -you to pieces!" - -He paused again, and then another horse that I had not yet seen moved -on the other side of the trail where he had come up. It had heard -the others, and I knew it must be the animal he had ridden. It came -out of the brush into the light of the fire, and I knew it was -Elsie's. My heart gave a tremendous leap, and then stood still. How -had he become possessed of it? I spoke, and in a voice I could not -recognize as my own, so hoarse and terrible it was. - -"How did you get that white horse, you villain?" I asked. - -He looked at me fiercely without at first seeing how he could burt -me, and then a look of beast-like, cruel cunning came into his eyes. - -"Ah!" said he, "I knew her! It was your girl's horse! How did I get -it? Perhaps you would like to know? You will never see her -again--never! Where is she now--where?" - -He knew as little as I did, but the way he spoke, and the horrible -things he put into his voice, made me boil with fury. - -"You are a lying dog!" I cried, though he had said nothing that I -should be so wrathful. He grinned diabolically, seeing how he had -hurt me, and then laughed loud in an insulting, triumphant manner. -It was too much, and I made one tremendous bound across the fire, and -landed within three feet of him. He fired at the same moment, and -whether he had wounded me or not I did not know; but the revolver -went spinning two yards off, and we grappled in a death-hug. - -I have said that Siwash Jim was a hard man to beat, but whether it -was that I was weak with my wound or not, I found Matthias, who was -mad with hate and fury, the most terrible antagonist I had ever -tackled. He was as slippery as an eel, as lithe as a snake, and -withal his grip was like that of a steel trap. Yet if I could but -prevent him drawing his knife, which was at his belt, I did not care. -I was his match if not in agility, at least in strength, and I would -never let him go. We were for one moment still, after we grappled, -and I trust I shall never see anything that looks more like a devil -than his eyes, in which the light of the fire shone, while he gnashed -his teeth and ground them until the foam and saliva oozed out of his -mouth like a mad dog's venom. His forehead was seamed and wrinkled, -his cheeks were sucked in and then blown out convulsively, and his -whole aspect was more hideous than that of a beast of prey. And then -the struggle began. - -At first it was a trial of strength, for although I was so much the -bigger, he knew his own power and the force of his iron nerves, and -he hoped to overcome me thus. We reeled to and fro, and twice went -through the fire, where I once held him for an instant with a -malicious joy that was short-lived, for the pain added to his -strength, and he forced me backward, until I struck the trunk of the -tree a heavy blow. Then we swayed hither and thither, for I had him -by the right wrist and the left shoulder, not daring to alter my grip -on his right hand, lest he should get his knife. He held me in the -same way, and at last we came to the very verge of the cañon, and -spurned the tracks that Jim had made in his agony. For a moment I -thought he would throw us both in, but he had not lost hope. If he -had, that moment would have been my last. In another second we had -staggered to the fire, and he tried all his strength to free his -right hand. At last, by a sudden wrench he did it, and dropped his -fingers like lightning on his knife, just as I bent his left wrist -over, and struck him in the face with his own clenched hand. We both -went down; his knife ripped my shoulder by the very place that Jim's -bullet had struck, and we rolled over and over madly and blindly, -burning ourselves on the scattered embers, tearing ourselves on the -jagged roots and small branches, which we smashed, as I strove to -dash him on the ground, and he struggled to free his arm, which I had -gripped above the elbow, to end the battle at one blow. But though -he once drove the point more than an inch into the biceps, and three -times cut me deeply, he did not injure any nerve so as to paralyse -the limb. And yet I felt that I was becoming insensible, so -tremendous was the strain and the excitement, and I felt that I must -make a last effort, or die. Somehow we rose to our knees, still -grappling, and if I looked a tithe as horrible as he did, covered -with blood, saliva, and sweat, I must have been horrible to see. We -glared in each other's eyes for one moment, and then, loosing my hold -on his left arm, I caught his right wrist with both hands. With his -freed hand he struck me with all his remaining strength full in the -face while I twisted his right wrist with a force that should have -broken it, but which only compelled him to relinquish the bloody -piece of steel. And then we rolled over again, and lay locked in -each other's arms. There was a moment's truce, for human nature -could not stand the strain. But I think he believed I was beaten, -and at his mercy, for he was on top of me, lying half across ray -breast, with his face not six inches from mine. He spoke in a -horrible voice, that shook with hate and pain and triumph. - -"I've got you now--and I'll kill you, as I did your brother!" - -Great God! then it was he who had done it, after all. Better had it -been for him to have held his peace, for that word roused me again as -nothing else could have done, and I caught his throat with both -hands, though he struck me viciously. I held him as he lay on top of -me, and saw him die. Then I knew no more for a little while, and as -I lay there insensible, I still bled. - -What was it that called me to myself? Whether it was that my soul -had gone out to meet someone, and returned in triumph, for I awoke -with a momentary feeling of gladness; or whether it was an -unconscious effort of the brain, in the presence of a new and -terrible danger, I cannot say. All I know is that, when that spasm -of joy passed, I felt weak and unable to move under the weight of -Matthias, whose protruding eyes and tongue mocked at me hideously in -death, as though his revenge was even now being accomplished; and I -saw the fiery brush creeping across the space that lay between me and -the fire Jim had kindled at my bidding. Was I to die by fire at the -last, when that horrible night was passing and the dawn was already -breaking on the eastern horizon? For I could not stir, my limbs were -like lead, my heart beat feebly, and my feet were cold. I lay -glaring at the fire, and, as I did so, I saw that the revolver I had -struck out of Matthias's hand was lying as far from the fire as the -fire was from me. How is it that there is such a clear intellect at -times in the very presence of death? I saw then that the shots I had -fired from that weapon had brought my enemy up just in time, for -otherwise he might have been wearied out or lost; and now I thought -if I could only get to it, to fire it, I might thus bring help: for -what enemies had I left now save the crawling fire? I might even -bring Elsie. But then, how did the dead villain who lay across me, -choking me still, get her horse, and what had happened to her in his -hands! I tried to scream, and I sighed as softly as the vague wind -which was impelling the slow fires toward me. How near they -came!--how near--and nearer yet, like serpents rearing their heads, -spitting viciously as they came? And then I thought how slow they -were; why did they not come and end it at once, and let me die? And -I looked at the fires again. They were within two feet of me, I -could feel the heat, and within eighteen inches of the revolver. I -was glad, and watched it feverishly. But then the weapon's muzzle -was pointed almost at me. Suppose it exploded, and shot me dead as -it called for help! How strange it was! I put up my hands feebly -and tried to move the dead body, so as to screen myself. I might as -well have tried to uproot a tree, for I could barely move my hands. -I looked at the fire again as it crawled on and on, now wavering, now -staying one moment to lift up its thousand little crests and vicious -eyes, and then stooping to lick up the grass and the dried brush on -which I lay. But as I glared at it intently, at last it reached the -weapon, and coiled round it triumphantly as though that had been its -goal, licking it round and round. Would the flames heat the -cartridges enough, and if they did, where would the bullets go? I -asked that deliriously, for I was in a fever, and instead of being -cold at heart, the blood ran through me like fire. I thought I began -to feel the fire that was so close to me. I heard the explosion of -the heated weapon. I was yet alive. "Come, Elsie! come, if you are -not dead--come and save me--come!" I thought I cried out loudly, but -not even her ear, that heard a sharper sound afar, could have caught -that. Once more and once again the cartridges fired, and I heard a -crash, saw a horse burst like a flame through the black brush, and -there was a white thing before my eyes. I looked up and saw Elsie, -my own true love after all, and then I fainted dead away, and did not -recover until long, long after. - -I ask myself sometimes even now, when those hours that were burnt -into my soul return to my sight like an old brand coming out on the -healed flesh when it is struck sudden and sharply, whether, after -all, my enemy had been balked of his revenge. To die one death and -go into oblivion is the lot of all who face the rising sun, and, -after a while, veil their eyes when its last fires sink in the -western sea. But I suffered ten thousand deaths by violence, by -cruel ambush and torture, by crawling flames and flashing knives in -the interval between my rescue and my recovery from the fever that my -wounds and the horror of it all brought upon me. They told me--Elsie -herself told me--that I lay raving only ten days; but it seemed -incredible to me, as I shook my head in a vague disbelief that made -them fear for my reason. If I had been in the care of strangers who -were unfamiliar to me, I might have thought myself a worn-out relic -of some dead and buried era, whose monuments had crumbled slowly to -ashes in the very fires through which my soul had passed, shrieking -for the forgetful dead I had loved. But though I saw her only -vaguely like a spirit in clouds, or knew her, without sight as I lay -half unconscious, as a beneficent presence only, I grew gradually to -feel that Elsie, who still lived after the centuries of my delirium, -loved me with the passion I had felt for her. I say _had_ felt, for -I was like a child, and my desire for her was scarcely more than a -pathetic longing for tenderness of thought and touch, until the great -strength which had been my pride returned in a flood and brought -passion with it once more. - -How strangely that came to pass which I had foretold in my last talk -with Elsie! I had said, angrily--for I was angered--that she should -one day speak to me, though she swore she would not, and that she -should implore my pardon. And she did it, she who had been so strong -and self-contained, in the meekest and dearest way the thoughts of a -maiden could devise. And then she asked me if I would marry her? -Would I marry her? I stared at her in astonishment, not at her -asking, for it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to -do, but at the idiocy of the Question. "I do believe you love me, -Elsie," I said at last, "for I have heard that love makes the most -sensible people quite stupid. If you were in your right senses, -dear, you would not have asked it----" - -"I should think not, indeed!" she broke in. But she smiled tenderly. - -"Because you know very well that I settled that long enough ago, on -board the _Vancouver_," I said stoutly. - -"Then I had no voice in it?" Elsie said. - -"Not the least, I assure you! I made up my mind." - -"And so did I," said Elsie, softly. - -"What do you mean, dear?" - -She leant her head against my shoulder, and against my big beard, and -whispered: - -"I made up my mind, dear Tom, that if you didn't love me, I would -never love anyone else, but go and be a nun or a nurse all my life. -And that's why I was so hard, you know!" - -Yes, I knew that well enough. - - -And where was Helen, meantime? I am drawing so near the end of my -story that I must say what I have to in a few words. She had -remained at the ranch until the doctor had declared I was going to -recover (it was no fault of his that I did), and then she went away. -What she told Elsie I have never known, nor shall I ever ask; but -they parted good friends--yes, the best of friends--and she returned -home to Melbourne. I never saw her again, at least not to my -knowledge, although once, when Elsie and I were both in that -city--for I returned to my profession--I thought, nay, for the moment -I made sure, that she had come to know of our presence there. For -Elsie had presents of fruit and flowers almost every day she was at -Melbourne. I part with her now with a strange regret, and somehow I -have never confessed to anyone that I was very vexed at her not -waiting until I was well enough to recognize her before she went. -For, you see, she loved me. - -But--and this is the last--the time came when I was able to go out -with Elsie and Fanny, and though we rode slowly, it did not need -rapid motion to exhilarate me when she was by my side. As for Fanny, -she used to lose us in the stupidest way, just as if she had not been -brought up in the bush, and been able to follow a trail like a black -fellow. But when Harmer came out on Sundays, it was we who lost -them, for Fanny used to go off at full speed, while Jack, who never -got used to a horse for many months, used to risk his neck to keep up -with her. Then she used to annoy him at night by offering him the -softest seat, which he stoutly refused, preferring to suffer untold -tortures on a wooden stool, rather than confess. But I don't think -they will ever imitate us, who got married at last in the autumn at -Thomson Forks. I invited almost everyone I knew to the wedding, and -I made Mac my chief man, much to Jack's disgust. I would even have -invited Montana Bill, but he was lying in the hospital with a bullet -in his shoulder; while Hank Patterson could not come on account of -the police wanting him for putting it there. But half the population -of the Forks had bad headaches next day; and if I didn't have to wear -my right hand in a sling on account of the shaking it got, it was -because I was as strong as ever. The only man who looked unhappy was -Mr. Fleming, and he certainly had a right to be miserable, -considering that I had robbed him of his housekeeper, leaving him to -the tender mercies of flighty Fanny. And she was so vicious to poor -Jack that he actually dared to say to me, "that if Elsie had the -temper of her sister, he was sorry for me, and that it was a pity -Siwash Jim and Mat had made a mess of it." When I rebuked him, he -said merrily, "he guessed it was a free country, and not the poop of -the _Vancouver_." So I let him alone, being quite convinced then, -and I have never changed my opinion since, though we have been -married almost five years, that Elsie Ticehurst is the best wife a -man ever had, and worth fighting for, even against the world. - - - -THE END - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The mate of the Vancouver</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Morley Roberts</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 8, 2022 [eBook #68936]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - THE MATE OF THE<br /> - VANCOUVER<br /> -</h1> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - MORLEY ROBERTS<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - AUTHOR OF "KING BILLY OF BALLARAT," ETC.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - NEW YORK<br /> - STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS<br /> - 238 WILLIAM STREET<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - Copyright, 1892,<br /> - By CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.<br /> -<br /> - Copyright, 1900<br /> - By STREET & SMITH<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -CONTENTS. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART I. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap01">On Board the Vancouver</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART II. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap02">San Francisco and Northward</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART III. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap03">A Golden Link</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART IV. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap04">Love and Hate</a> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -PART V. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#chap05">At the Black Cañon</a> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -PART I. -<br /><br /> -ON BOARD THE VANCOUVER. -</h3> - -<p> -I am going to write, not the history of my -life, which, on the whole, has been as quiet -as most men's, but simply the story of about -a year of it, which, I think, will be almost -as interesting to other folks as any yarn spun -by a professional novel writer; and if I am -wrong, it is because I haven't the knowledge -such have of the way to tell a story. As a -friend of mine, who is an artist, says, I know -I can't put in the foreground properly, but if -I tell the simple facts in my own way, it will -be true, and anything that is really true -always seems to me to have a value of its -own, quite independent of what the papers -call "style," which a sailor, who has never -written much besides a log and a few -love-letters, cannot pretend to have. That is -what I think. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Our family—for somehow it seems as if I -must begin at the beginning—was always -given to the sea. There is a story that my -great-grandfather was a pirate or buccaneer; -my grandfather, I know, was in the Royal -Navy, and my father commanded a China -clipper when they used to make, for those -days, such fast runs home with the new -season's tea. Of course, with these examples -before us, my brother and I took the same -line, and were apprenticed as soon as our -mother could make up her mind to part -with her sons. Will was six years older -than I, and he was second mate in the vessel -in which I served my apprenticeship; but, -though we were brothers, there wasn't much -likeness either of body or mind between us; -for Will had a failing that never troubled -me, and never will; he was always fond of -his glass, a thing I despise in a seaman, and -especially in an officer, who has so many lives -to answer for. -</p> - -<p> -In 1881, when I had been out of my -apprenticeship for rather more than four years, -and had got to be mate by a deal of hard -work—for, to tell the truth, I liked practical -seamanship then much better than navigation -and logarithms—I was with my brother -in the <i>Vancouver</i>, a bark of 1100 tons -register. If it hadn't been for my mother, I -wouldn't have sailed with Will, but she was -always afraid he would get into trouble -through drink; for when he was at home -and heard he was appointed to the command -of this new vessel, he was carried to bed a -great deal the worse for liquor. So when he -offered me the chief officer's billet, mother -persuaded me to take it. -</p> - -<p> -"You must, Tom," she said; "for my sake, -do. You can look after him, and perhaps -shield him if anything happens, for I am in -fear all the time when he is away, but if you -were with him I should be more at ease; for -you are so steady, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -I wasn't so steady as she thought, I dare -say, but still I didn't drink, and that was -something. Anyhow, that's the reason why -I went with Will, and it was through him -and his drinking ways that all the trouble -began that made my life a terror to me, and -yet brought all the sweetness into it that a -man can have, and more than many have a -right to look for. -</p> - -<p> -When we left Liverpool we were bound -for Melbourne with a mixed cargo and -emigrants; and I shouldn't like to say which was -the most mixed, what we had in the hold or -in the steerage, for I don't like such a human -cargo; no sailor does, for they are always in -the way. However, that's neither here nor -there, for though Will got too much to drink -every two days or so on the passage out, -nothing happened then that has any concern -with the story. It was only when we got to -Sandridge that the yarn begins, and it began -in a way that rather took me aback; for -though I had always thought Will a man who -didn't care much for women, or, at any rate, -enough to marry one, our anchor hadn't been -down an hour before a lady came off in a -boat. It was Will's wife, as he explained to -me in a rather shamefaced way when he -introduced her, and a fine-looking woman she -was—of a beautiful complexion with more -red in it than most Australians have, two -piercing black eyes, and a figure that would -have surprised you, it was so straight and -full. -</p> - -<p> -She shook hands with me very firmly, and -looked at me in such a way that it seemed -she saw right through me. -</p> - -<p> -"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ticehurst," -she said; "I know we shall be friends, -you are so like your brother." -</p> - -<p> -Now, somehow, that didn't please me, for -I could throw Will over the spanker boom if -I wanted to; I was much the bigger man of -the two; and as for strength, there was no -comparison between us. Besides—however, -that doesn't matter; and I answered her -heartily enough, for I confess I liked her -looks, though I prefer fair women. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure we shall," said I; "my brother's -wife must be, if I can fix it so." -</p> - -<p> -And with that I went off and left them -alone, for I thought I might not be wanted -there; and I knew very well I was wanted -elsewhere, for Tom Mackenzie, the second -Officer, was making signs for me to come on deck. -</p> - -<p> -After that I saw her a good deal, for we -were often together, especially when she came -down once or twice and found Will the worse -for liquor. The first time she was in a -regular fury about it, and though she didn't say -much, she looked like a woman who could -do anything desperate, or even worse than -that. But the next time she took it more -coolly. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Tom," she said, "he was to take -me to the theater, but now he can't go. What -am I to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know," said I, foolishly enough, -as it seemed, but then I didn't want to take -the hint, which I understood well enough. -</p> - -<p> -"Hum!" she said sharply, looking at me -straight. I believe I blushed a little at being -bowled out, for I was I knew that. However, -when she had made up her mind, she -was not a woman to be baulked. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I know, Tom, if you don't," she -said; "you must take me yourself. I have -the tickets. So get ready." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Helen!" I said, for I really didn't -like to go off with her in that way without -Will's knowing. -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes sparkled, and she stamped her foot. -</p> - -<p> -"I insist on it! So get ready, or I'll go -by myself. And how would Will like that?" -</p> - -<p> -There was no good resisting her, she was -too sharp for me, and I went like a lamb, -doing just as she ordered me, for she was a -masterful woman and accustomed to have her -own way. If I did wrong I was punished for -it afterward, for this was the beginning of a -kind of flirtation which I swear was always -innocent enough on my side, and would have -been on hers too, if Will had not been a -coward with the drink. -</p> - -<p> -In Melbourne we got orders for San Francisco, -and it was only a few days before we -were ready to sail that I found out Helen was -going with us. I was surprised enough any -way, for I knew the owners objected to their -captains having their wives on board, but I -was more surprised that she was ready to -come. I hope you will believe that, for it is -as true as daylight. I thought at first it was -all Will's doing, and he let me think so, for -he didn't like me to know how much she -ruled him when he was sober. However, she -came on board to stay just twenty-four hours -before we sailed; the very day Will went up -to Melbourne to ship two men in place of -two of ours who had run from the vessel. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning, when we were lying in the -bay, for we had hauled out from the wharf -at Sandridge, a boat ran alongside just at six -o'clock, and the two men came on board. -</p> - -<p> -"Who are you, and where are you from?" -I asked roughly, for I didn't like the look of -one of them. -</p> - -<p> -"These are the two hands that Captain -Ticehurst shipped yesterday from a -Williamstown boarding house," said the runner -who was with them. -</p> - -<p> -I always like to ship men from the Sailor's -Home, but I couldn't help myself if Will -chose to take what he could get out of a -den of thieves such as I knew his place to be. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well!" said I gruffly enough. -"Look alive, get your dunnage forward and -turn to!" -</p> - -<p> -One of them was a hard-looking little -Cockney, who seemed a sailor every inch, -though there weren't many of them; but the -other was a dark lithe man, with an evil -face, who looked like some Oriental half-caste. -</p> - -<p> -"Here," said I to the Cockney, "what's -your name?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bill Walker, sir," he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"Who's the man with you? What is -he?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Dunno, sir," said Walker, looking forward -at the figure of his shipmate, who was just -disappearing in the fo'c'sle; "I reckon he's -some kind of a Dago, that's what he is, some -kind of a Dago." -</p> - -<p> -Now, a Dago in sailor's language means, -as a rule, a Frenchman, Spaniard, or Greek, -or anyone from southern Europe, just as a -Dutchman means anyone from a Fin down -to a real Hollander; so I wasn't much wiser. -However, in a day or two Bill Walker came -up to me and told me, in a confidential -London twang, that he now believed Matthias, -as he called himself, was a half-caste Malay, -as I had thought at first. But I was to know -him better afterward, as will be seen before -I finish. -</p> - -<p> -Now, it is a strange thing, and it shows -how hard it is for a man not accustomed -to writing, like myself, to tell a story in the -proper way, that I have not said anything -of the passengers who were going with us to -San Francisco. I could understand it if I -had been writing this down just at the time -these things happened, but when I think -that I have put the Malay before Elsie -Fleming, even if he came into my life first, -I am almost ready to laugh at my own -stupidity. For Elsie was the brightest, -bonniest girl I ever saw, and even now I find it -hard not to let the cat out of the bag before -the hour. As a matter of fact, this being the -third time I have written all this over, I had -to cut out pages about Elsie which did not -come in their proper place. So now I shall -say no more than that Elsie and her sister -Fanny, and their father, took passage with us -to California, as we were the only sailing -vessel going that way; and old Fleming, -who had been a sailor himself, fairly hated -steamboats—aye, a good deal worse than I -do, for I think them a curse to sailors. But -when they came on board I was busy as a -mate is when ready to go to sea, and though -I believe I must have been blind, yet I hardly -took any notice of the two sisters, more than -to remark that one had hair like gold and a -laugh which was as sweet as a fair wind up -Channel. But I came to know her better -since; though in a way different from the Malay. -</p> - -<p> -When we had got our anchor on board, -and were fairly out to sea, heading for -Bass's Straits, I saw her and Helen talking -together, and I think it was the contrast -between the two that first attracted me -toward her, not much liking dark women, -being dark myself. She seemed, compared -with Will's wife, as fair as an angel from -heaven, though the glint of her eyes, and her -quick, bright ways, showed she was a woman -all over. I took a fancy to her that moment, -and I believe Helen saw it, when I think -over what has happened since, for she -frowned and bit her lip hard, until I could -see a mark there. But I didn't know then -what I do now, and besides, I had no -time to think about such things just then, -for we were hard at it getting things shipshape. -</p> - -<p> -Tom Mackenzie, the second officer, and -a much older man than myself—for he had -been to sea for seventeen years before he -took it into his head to try for his second -mate's ticket—came up to me when the men -were mustered aft. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Ticehurst," said he gruffly, "I should -be glad if you'd take that Malay chap in -your watch, for I have two d—d Dagos -already, who are always quarreling, and if -I have three, there will be bloodshed for -sure. I don't like his looks." -</p> - -<p> -"No more do I," I answered; "but I don't -care for his looks. I've tamed worse looking -men; and if you ask it, Mackenzie, why I'll -have him and you can take the Cockney." -</p> - -<p> -I think this was very good of me, for Bill -Walker, I could see, was a real smart hand, -and a merry fellow, not one of those -grumblers who always make trouble for'ard, and -come aft at the head of a deputation once -a week growling about the victuals. But -Mackenzie was a good sort, and though he -was under me, I knew that for practical -seamanship—though I won't take a back -seat among any men of my years at sea—he -was ahead of all of us. So I was ready -to do him a good turn, and it was true -enough he had two Greeks in his watch -already. -</p> - -<p> -When we had been to sea about a week, -and got into the regular routine of work, -which comes round just as it does in a house, -for it is never done, Will got into his routine, -too, and was drunk every day just as regular -as eight bells at noon. Helen came to me, -of course. -</p> - -<p> -"Tom, can't you do something?" she said, -with tears in her eyes, the first time I ever -saw them there, though not the last. "It is -horrible to think of his drinking this way! -And then before those two girls—I am -ashamed of myself and of him! Can't you -do anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"What can I do, Helen?" I asked. "I -can't take it from him; I can't stave the -liquor, there's too much of it; besides, he is -captain, if he is my brother, and I can't go -against him." -</p> - -<p> -"But can't you try and persuade him, -Tom?" and she caught my arm and looked -at me so sorrowfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Haven't I done it, Helen!" I answered. -"Do you think I have seen him going to -hell these two years without speaking? But -what good is it—what good is it?" -</p> - -<p> -She turned away and sat down by Elsie -and Fanny, while just underneath in the -saloon Will was singing some old song -about "Pass the bottle round." He did, -too, and it comes round quick at a party of one. -</p> - -<p> -I can see easily that if I tell everything in -this way I shall never finish my task until I -have a pile of manuscript as big as the log of -a three years' voyage, so I shall have to get -on quickly, and just say what is necessary, -and no more. And now I must say that by -this time I was in love with Elsie Fleming, -in love as much as a man can be, in love with -a passion that trial only strengthened, and -time could not and cannot destroy. It was -no wonder I loved her, for she was the fairest, -sweetest maid I ever saw, with long golden -hair, bright blue eyes that looked straight at -one, but which could be very soft too sometimes, -and a neat little figure that made me -feel, great strong brute that I was, as clumsy -as an ox, though I was as quick yet to go -aloft as any young man if occasion called for -the mate to show his men the way. And -when we were a little more than half across -the Pacific to the Golden Gate, I began to -think that Elsie liked me more than she did -anyone else, for she would often talk to me -about her past life in sunny New South -Wales, and shiver to think that her father -might insist on staying a long time in British -Columbia, for he was going to take possession -of a farm left him by an old uncle near a place -called Thomson Forks. -</p> - -<p> -It was sweet to have her near me in the -first watch, and I cursed quietly to myself -when young Jack Harmer, the apprentice, -struck four bells, for at ten o'clock she always -said, "Good-night, Mr. Ticehurst. I must go -now. How sleepy one does get at sea! Dear -me, how can you keep your eyes open?" And -when she went down it seemed as if the moon -and stars went out. -</p> - -<p> -When it was old Mackenzie's first watch I -was almost fool enough to be jealous of her -being with him then, though he had a wife at -home, and a daughter just as old as Elsie, and -he thought no more of women, as a rule, than -a hog does of harmony, as I once heard an -American say. Still, when I lay awake and -heard her step overhead, for I knew it well, I -was almost ready to get up then and there -and make an unutterable fool of myself by -losing my natural sleep. -</p> - -<p> -And now I am coming to what I would -willingly leave out. I hope that people won't -think badly of me for my share in it, for -though I was not always such a straight -walker in life as some are, yet I would not do -what evil-minded folks might think I did. -Somehow I have a difficulty in putting it -down, for though I have spoken of it -sometimes sorrowfully enough to one who is very -dear to me, yet to write it coolly on paper -seems cowardly and treacherous. And yet, -seeing that I can harm no one, and knowing -as I do in my heart that I wasn't to blame, I -must do it, and do it as kindly as I can. -This is what I mean: I began to see that -Helen loved me more than she should have -done, and that she hated Will bitterly, but -Elsie even worse. -</p> - -<p> -It was a great surprise to me, for, to tell -the truth, women as a general rule have -never taken to me very much, and Will was -always the one in our family who had most -to do with them. And for my part, until I -saw Elsie I never really loved anyone, -although, like most men, I have had a few -troubles which until then I thought -love-affairs. So it was very hard to convince -myself that what I suspected was true, even -though I believe that I have a natural fitness -for judging people and seeing through them, -even women, who some folks say do not act -from reason like men. However, I don't think -they are much different, for few of us act -reasonably. But all this has nothing to do with -the matter in hand. Now, I must confess, -although it seems wicked, that I was a little -pleased at first to think that two women loved -me, for we are all vain, and that certainly -touches a man's vanity, and yet I was sorry -too, for I foresaw trouble unless I was very -careful, though not all the woe and pain which -came out of this business before the end. -</p> - -<p> -The first thing that made me suspect -something was wrong, was that Helen almost -ceased to keep Will from the bottle, and she -taunted him bitterly, so bitterly, that if he -had not usually been a good-tempered fellow -even when drunk, he might have turned -nasty and struck her. And then she would -never leave me and Elsie alone if she could -help it, although she was not hypocrite -enough to pretend to be very fond of her. -Indeed, Elsie said one night to me that she -was afraid Mrs. Ticehurst didn't like her. I -laughed, but I saw it was true. Then, -whenever she could, Helen came and walked with -me, and she hardly ever spoke. It seems to -me now, when I know all, that she was in a -perpetual conflict, and was hardly in her right -mind. I should like to think that she was not. -</p> - -<p> -I was in a very difficult position, as any -man will admit. I loved Elsie dearly; I was -convinced my brother's wife loved me; and -we were all four shut up on ship-board. I -think if we had been on land I should have -spoken to Elsie and run away from the -others, but here I could not speak without -telling her more than I desired, or without -our being in the position of lovers, which -might have caused trouble. For I even -thought, so suspicious does a man get, -that Helen might perhaps have come on -board more on my account than on Will's. -</p> - -<p> -All this time we were making very fair -headway, for we had a good breeze astern of -us, and the "Islands" (as they call them in -San Francisco), that is the Sandwich Islands, -were a long way behind us. If we had -continued to have fine weather, or if Will had -kept sober, or even so drunk that he could -not have interfered in working the ship, -things might not have taken the turn they -did, and what happened between me and the -Malay who called himself Matthias might -never have occurred. And when I look back -on the train of circumstances, it almost makes -me believe in Fate, though I should be -unwilling to do that; for I was taught by my -mother, a very intelligent woman who read a -great deal of theology, that men have free -will and can do as they please. -</p> - -<p> -However, when we were nearing the -western coast of America, Will, who had a -great notion—a much greater one than I had, -by the way—of his navigation, began to come -up every day and take his observations with -me, until at last the weather altered so for the -worse, and it came on to blow so hard, that -neither of us could take any more. Now, if -Will drank enough, Heaven knows, in fine -weather, he drank a deal harder in foul, -though by getting excited it didn't have the -usual effect on him, and he kept about -without going to sleep just where he sat or lay -down. So he was always on deck, much to -my annoyance, for I could see the men laughing -as he clung to the rail at the break of the -poop, bowing and scraping, like an -intoxicated dancing master, with every roll the -<i>Vancouver</i> made. -</p> - -<p> -For five days we had been running by dead -reckoning, and as well as I could make out we -were heading straight for the coast, a good -bit to the nor'ard of our true course. Besides, -we were a good fifty miles farther east than -Will made out, according to his figures, and I -said as much to him. He laughed scornfully. -"I'm captain of this ship," said he; "and -Tom—don't you interfere. If I've a mind to knock -Mendocino County into the middle of next -week, I'll do it! But I haven't, and we are -running just right." -</p> - -<p> -You see, when he was in this state he was -a very hard man to work with, and if we -differed in our figures I had often enough a big -job to convince him that he was wrong. And -being wrong even a second in the longitude -means being sixty miles out. And with only -dead reckoning to rely on, we should have -been feeling our way cautiously toward the -coast, seeing that in any case we might fetch -up on the Farallon Islands, which lie twenty -miles west of the Golden Gate. -</p> - -<p> -On the sixth day of this weather it began -to clear up a little in the morning watch, and -there seemed some possibility of our getting -sight of the sun before eight bells. Will was -on deck, and rather more sober than usual. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, sir," said I to him, for I was just as -respectful, I'll swear, as if he was no relation, -"there seems a chance of getting an observation; -shall we take it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," said he. "Send Harmer -here, and we'll wait for a chance." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer came aft, and brought up Will's -sextant, and just then the port foretopsail -sheet parted, for it was really blowing hard, -though the sun came out at intervals. I ran -forward myself, and by the time the watch -had clewed up the sail and made it fast, eight -bells had struck. When I went aft I met Harmer. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you get an observation!" I asked -anxiously, for when a man has the woman he -loves on board it makes him feel worried, -especially if things go as they were going -then. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, "and the -captain is working it out now. But, sir, if I -were you I would go over it after him, for -two heads are better than one," and he -laughed, being a merry, thoughtless -youngster, and went into his berth. -</p> - -<p> -However, I did not do what he said, thinking -that we should both get an observation -at noon. We were very lucky to do so, for -it began to thicken again at ten o'clock, and -we were in a heavy fog until nearly twelve. -And as soon as eight bells was struck, the -fog which had lifted came down again. -</p> - -<p> -When I got below Will already had the -chart out, and was showing the women where -we were, as he said; and when I came in he -called me. -</p> - -<p> -"There, look, Mr. Chief Officer! what did -I tell you? Look!" and he pricked off our -position as being just about where he had -reckoned. -</p> - -<p> -I took up the slate he had been making -the calculation on, but he saw me, and snatched -it out of my hand. -</p> - -<p> -"What d'ye mean?" said he fiercely; "what -do you want?" and he threw it on the deck, -smashing it in four pieces. I made a sign to -Elsie, and she picked them up like lightning, -while Will called for the steward and some -more brandy, and began drinking in a worse -temper than I had ever seen him in. -</p> - -<p> -When I passed Elsie she gave me the -broken bits of slate, and I went into my cabin, -pieced them together, and worked the whole -thing out again. And when I had done it -the blood ran to my head and I almost fell. -For the morning observation which Will only -had taken was wrongly worked out. I ran -out on deck like lightning, and found it a -thick fog all round us, for all the wind. Old -Mackenzie was in the poop, and he roared out -when he saw me: -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter, Tom Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -"Put the ship up into the wind, for God's -sake!" I shouted. "And send a hand up -aloft to look out, for the coast should be -right under our bows. We must be in -Ballinas Bay." And as he ported the helm, -I rushed back into the cabin and took the -chart out again to verify our position as near -as I could. The coast ought to be in sight if -the fog cleared. For we had run through or -past the Farallones without seeing them. -</p> - -<p> -When I came down the women all cried -out at the sight of me, for though I controlled -myself all I could, it was impossible, so -sudden was the shock, to hide all I felt. And -just then the <i>Vancouver</i> was coming into the -wind, the men were at the lee braces, and as -she dived suddenly into the head seas, her -pitches were tremendous. It seemed to the -women that something must be wrong, -while Will, who, seaman-like, knew what had -happened, though mad with drink, rushed on -deck with a fierce oath. I dropped the chart -and ran after him; yet I stayed a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"It will be all right," I said to the women; -"but I can't tell you now." And I followed -Will, who had got hold of old Mackenzie by -the throat, while the poor fellow looked -thunderstruck. -</p> - -<p> -"What the devil are you doing?" he -screamed. "Why don't you keep the course? -Man the weather-braces, you dogs, and put -the helm up!" -</p> - -<p> -But no one stirred; while Tom Mackenzie, -seeing me there, took Will by the wrists and -threw him away from him. I caught him as -he fell, roaring, "Mutiny! Mutiny!" -</p> - -<p> -"It's no mutiny!" I shouted, in my turn; -"if we keep your course we shall be on the -rocks in half an hour. I tell you the land is -dead to loo-ard, aye, and not five miles off." -</p> - -<p> -But it was less than that, for just then it -cleared up a little. And the lookout on the -foreyard shouted, "Land on the lee-bow!" Then -he cried out, "Land right ahead!" Whether -Will heard him or not, I don't -know, but he broke away from me and fell, -rather than went, down the companion, and -in a moment I heard the women scream. -</p> - -<p> -I caught Mackenzie by the arm. -</p> - -<p> -"It's for our lives, and the lives of the -women? He's gone for his revolver! I -shall take command!" -</p> - -<p> -And I sprang behind the companion like -lightning. And just in time, for, as Will -came up, I saw he was armed, and I jumped -right on his back. His revolver went off and -struck the taffrail; the next moment I had -kicked it forward to where Mackenzie was -standing, and grasped Will by the arms. -</p> - -<p> -I had never given him credit for the -strength he showed, but then he was mad, -mad drunk, and it was not till Walker and -Matthias—for all hands were on deck by this -time—came to help me that I secured him. -In the struggle Will drew back his foot and -kicked the Malay in the face, and as he rose, -with the evilest look I ever saw on a man's -countenance, he drew his knife instinctively. -With my left hand I caught his wrist and -nearly broke it, while the knife flew out of -his hand. And then, even by that simple -action, I saw that I had made an enemy of -this man, whom up to this time I had always -been kind to and treated with far more -consideration than he would have got from -rough old Mac. But this is only by the -way, though it is important enough to the -story. -</p> - -<p> -I had to tie Will's hands, and all the time -he foamed at the mouth, ordering the crew to -assist him. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll have you hung, you dogs, all of you!" -he shrieked, while the three women stood on -the companion-ladder, white and trembling -with fear. -</p> - -<p> -It was with great trouble that we got him -below, and when he was there I shut him in -his berth, and sent the two stewards in with -him to see that he neither did himself harm -nor got free, and then I turned my attention -to saving the ship and our lives. -</p> - -<p> -We were in an awfully critical situation, -and one which, in ordinary circumstances, -might have made a man's heart quail; but -now—with the woman I loved on board—it -was maddening to think of, and made me -curse my brother who had brought us into it. -Think of what it was. Not five miles on our -lee-bow there was the land, and we could even -distinguish as we lifted on the sea the cruel -line of white breakers which seemed to run -nearly abeam, for the <i>Vancouver</i> was not a -very weatherly ship, and the gale, instead -of breaking, increased, until, if I had -dared, I would have ordered sail to be -shortened. -</p> - -<p> -I went to the chart again. Just as I took -it, Mackenzie called to me, "Mr. Ticehurst, -there's a big flat-topped mountain some way -inland. I think it must be Table Mountain." Yes, -he knew the coast, and even as I looked -at the chart, I heard him order the helm to -be put up. I saw why, for when we had -hauled into the wind, we were heading dead -for the great four-fathom bank that lies off -Bonita Point. But there was a channel -between it and the land. -</p> - -<p> -I ran on deck and spoke to Mackenzie. He -pointed out on the starboard hand, and there -the water was breaking on the bank. We -were running for the narrow channel under a -considerable press of canvas, seeing how it -blew; for all Mac relieved her of when we -first put her into the wind was the main -top-gallant sail. And now I could do nothing -for a moment but try to get sight of our -landmarks, and keep sight of them, for the -weather was still thick. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, as it might have seemed for -us, the chain-cables had already been ranged -fore and aft on the deck, and I told Mackenzie -to see them bent on to the anchors, and the -stoppers made ready. Yet I knew that if we -had to anchor, we were lost; in such a gale it -could only postpone our fate, for they would -come home or part to a dead certainty. -</p> - -<p> -Mackenzie and I stood together on the -poop watching anxiously for the right moment -to haul our wind again. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think of it, Mr. Mackenzie?" -I said, as I clung on to a weather backstay. -"Where do you think we shall be in half an -hour?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I shall ever see Whitechapel -again, sir," he answered quietly, and I knew -he was thinking of home, of his wife and his -daughter. "She will go to leeward like a -butter-cask in this sea; and now look at the -land!" And he pointed toward the line of -breakers on the land, which came nearer and -nearer. We waited yet a few minutes, and -then I looked at Mackenzie inquiringly. -"Yes, I think so, sir," he said, and with my -hand I motioned the men at the wheel to put -the helm down again. As she came into the -wind the upper foretopsail blew out of the -boltropes, while the vessel struggled like a -beaten hound that is being dragged to -execution, and shivered from stem to stern. -For the waves were running what landsmen -call mountains high; she now shipped a sea -every moment, which came in a flood over -the fo'c'sle head; and pouring down through -the scuttle, the cover of which had been -washed overboard, it sent the men's chests -adrift in the fo'c'sle and washed the blankets -out of the lower bunks. And to windward -the roar of the breakers on the bank was -deafening. I went below just for a moment. -I knew I had no right to go there, my place -was on deck, but could not help myself. I -must see Elsie once more before we died, for -if the vessel struck, the first sea that washed -over her might take me with it, and we -should never see each other again on earth. -But the two sisters were not in the saloon. I -stepped toward their berth, and Helen met -me, rising up from the deck, where she had -been crouching down in terror. -</p> - -<p> -I have said she was beautiful; and so she -was when she smiled, and the pleasant light -fell about her like sunlight on some strange -and rare tropical flower, showing her rosy -complexion, her delicate skin of full-blooded -olive, and her coils of dark and shining hair -But I never saw her so beautiful as she was -then, clothed strangely with the fear of death, -white with passion that might have made a -weaker woman crimson with shame, and -fiercely triumphant with a bitter -self-conquest. She caught me by the arm. "Tom, -dear Tom," she said, in a wonderful voice -that came to me clearly through the howl of -the wind, "I know there is not hope for us. -He" (and she pointed toward her husband's -cabin) "has ruined us! I hate him! And, -Tom, now it is all over, and we shall not -live! Say good-by to me, say good-by!" -</p> - -<p> -I stood thunderstruck and motionless, for -I knew what she meant even before she put -up her hands and took me round the neck. -"Kiss me once, just once, and I will die—for -now I could not live, and would not! Kiss -me!" And I did kiss her. Why, I know not, -whether out of pity (it was not love—no, -not love of any kind, I swear) or from the -strong constraint of her force of mind, I -cannot say; and as I lifted my head from hers, I -saw Elsie, the woman I did love, looking at -me with shame at my fall, as she thought, -and with scorn. I freed myself from Helen, -who sank down on her knees without seeing -that she had been observed, and I went -toward Elsie. She, too, was pale, though not -with fear, for perhaps she was ignorant of her -danger, but as I thought with a little feeling -of triumph even then, for we are strange -beings, with jealousy and anger. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a coward and a traitor!" she -said, when I reached her. -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, I am not, Elsie," I answered -sharply; "but perhaps you will never know -that I am speaking the truth. But let that -be; are you a brave woman? For—— But -where is your father?" -</p> - -<p> -"With Fanny," she answered, disdainfully -even then. -</p> - -<p> -I called him, and he came out. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Fleming," I said; "you know our -position; in a few minutes we shall be safe -or—ashore. Get your daughters dressed -warmly; stay at the foot of the companion -with them, and, if it is necessary, come up -when I call you." -</p> - -<p> -The old man shook hands with me and -pointed to Will's wife. I had forgotten her! -</p> - -<p> -"Look after her, too," I said, and went to -Will's cabin. He was fast asleep and snoring -hard. I could hardly keep from striking -him, but I let him lie. Was it a wonder that -a woman ceased to love him? And I went -on deck. -</p> - -<p> -I had not been absent five minutes, but in -that time the wind had increased even more, -the seas seemed to have grown heavier, the -decks were full of water, and the fatal wake -was yet broader on the weather-quarter. All -the men were aft under the break of the -poop, and most of them, thinking that we -must go ashore, had taken off their oilskins -and sea-boots ready for an effort to save -themselves at the last. Even in the state of -mind that I was in then, I saw clearly, and -the strange picture they presented—wet -through, some with no hats on, up to their -knees in water, for the decks could not clear -themselves, though some of the main deck -ports were stove in and some out in the -bulwarks—remains vividly with me now. -Among them stood Matthias, with a red -handkerchief over his head, and a swelled -cheek, where Will had struck him. By his -side was Walker, the only man in the crowd -who seemed cheerful, and he actually smiled. -Perhaps he was what the Scotch called "fey." -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly Mackenzie called me loudly. -</p> - -<p> -"Look sir, look! There is the point, the -last of the land! It's Bonita Point, if I -know this coast at all!" -</p> - -<p> -I sprang into the weather mizzen rigging, -and the men, who had noticed the second -mate's gestures, did the same at the main. -I could see the Point, and knew it, and I -knew if we could only weather it we could -put the helm up and run into San Francisco -in safety. Just then Harmer, who was as -cool as a cucumber, struck four bells, and -Matthias and a man called Thompson, an old -one-eyed sailor, came up to relieve the wheel. -</p> - -<p> -The point which we had to weather was -about as far from us as the land dead to -leeward, and it was touch and go whether we -should clear it or not. The <i>Vancouver</i> made -such leeway, closehauled, that it seemed -doubtful, and I fancied we should have a -better chance if I freed her a little, to let her -go through the water faster. Yet it was a -ticklish point, and one not to be decided -without thought in a situation which -demanded instant action. -</p> - -<p> -"What think you, Mac," said I hurriedly; -"shall we ease her half a point?" -</p> - -<p> -He nodded, and I spoke to the men at the -wheel, and as I did so I noticed the Malay's -face, which was ghastly with fear, although -he seemed steady enough. But I thought it -best to alter the way they stood, for the -Englishman had the lee wheel. I ordered -them to change places. -</p> - -<p> -"What's that for, sir?" said Matthias, -almost disrespectfully. I stared at him. -</p> - -<p> -"Do as you are told, you dog!" I -answered roughly, for I had no time to be -polite. "I don't like your steering. I have -noticed it before." -</p> - -<p> -When the course was altered she got much -more way on her, but neared the land yet -more rapidly. I called the men on to the -poop, for I had long before this determined -not to chance the anchors, and looked down -into the saloon to see if the women were there. -</p> - -<p> -As I did so Mr. Fleming called me. -</p> - -<p> -"If I can be of any use, Mr. Ticehurst, I -am ready." -</p> - -<p> -"I think not, Mr. Fleming," I replied as -cheerfully as possible; "we shall be out of -danger in a few minutes—or on the rocks," I -added to myself, as I closed the hatch. -</p> - -<p> -It was a breathless and awful time, and I -confess that for a few moments I forgot the -very existence of Elsie, as I calculated over -and over again the chances as we neared the -Point. It depended on a hair, and when -I looked at Mackenzie, who was silent and -gloomy, I feared the worst. Yet it shows -how strangely one can be affected by one's -fellows that when I saw Harmer and Walker -standing side by side their almost cheerful -faces made me hope, and I smiled. But we -were within three cables' length of the Point, -and the roar of the breakers came up against -the wind until it deafened us. I watched -the men at the wheel, and I saw Matthias -flinch visibly as though he had been struck -by a whip. I didn't know why it was, I am -not good at such things, but I took a deeper -dislike to him that moment than I had ever -had, and I stepped up to him. Now in what -followed perhaps I myself was to blame, and -yet I feel I could not have acted differently. -Perhaps I looked threatening at him as I -approached, but at any rate he let go the wheel -and fell back on the gratings. With an angry -oath I jumped into his place, struck him with -my heel, and then I saw Walker make a -tremendous spring for me, with an expression -of alarm in his face, as he looked beyond me, -that made me make a half turn. And that -movement saved my life. I felt the knife of -Matthias enter my shoulder like a red-hot -iron, and then it was wrenched out of his -hand and out of the wound by Walker. -</p> - -<p> -In a moment the two were locked together, -and in another they were separated by -Mackenzie and the others; and Walker stood -smiling with the knife in his hand. Although -the blood was running down my body, I did -not feel faint, and kept my eye fixed on the -course kept by the <i>Vancouver</i>, while Mackenzie -held me in his arms, and Harmer took the -lee wheel from me. -</p> - -<p> -"Luff a little!" I cried, for we were almost -on the Point, and I saw a rock nearly dead -ahead. "Luff a little!" and they put the -helm down on a spoke or two. -</p> - -<p> -The moments crawled by, and the coast -crawled nearer and nearer, as I began to feel -I was going blind and fainting. But I clung -to life and vision desperately, and the last I -saw was what I can see now, and shall always -see as plainly, the high black Point with its -ring of white water crawl aft and yet nearer, -aft to the foremast, aft to the mainmast -and then I fell and knew no more. For we -were saved. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to, we were before the wind, -and I lay on a mattress in the cabin. Near -me was Elsie, and by her Helen, who was as -white as death. Both were watching me, and -when I opened my eyes Helen fell on her -knees and suddenly went crimson, and then -white again, and fainted. But Elsie looked -harder and sterner than I had ever seen her. -I turned my face away, and near me I saw -another mattress with a covered figure on it, -the figure of a dead man, for I knew the shape. -In my state of faintness a strange and horrible -delirium took possession of me. It seemed -as if what I saw was seen only by myself, and -that it was a prophecy of my death. I fainted -again. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to we were at anchor in San -Francisco Bay, and a doctor from the shore was -attending to me, while Mackenzie stood by, -smiling and rubbing his hands as if delighted -to get me off them. I looked at him and he -knelt down by me. -</p> - -<p> -"Mackenzie, old man," I whispered, "didn't -I see somebody dead here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aye, poor chap," he answered, brushing -away a tear; "it was poor Walker." -</p> - -<p> -"Walker!" I said. "How was that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Accident, sir," said old Mac. "Just as -we rounded the Point and you fainted, the -old bark gave a heavy roll as we put her -before the wind, and Walker, as he was standing -with that black dog's knife in his hand, -slipped and fell. The blade entered his -body, and all he said after was, 'It was his -knife after all. He threatened to do for me -yesterday.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Where's Will?" I asked, when he ended, -for I was somehow anxious to save my -brother's credit, and I shouldn't have liked -to see him dismissed from the ship. -</p> - -<p> -"He's on deck now, as busy as the devil in -a gale of wind," growled Mackenzie. "'Tis -he that saved the ship. Oh, he's a mighty -man!—but I don't sail with him no more." -</p> - -<p> -However, he altered his mind about that. -</p> - -<p> -Now, it has taken me a long time to get to -this point, and perhaps if I had been a better -navigator in the waters of story-telling I might -have done just what Will didn't do, and have -missed all the trouble of beating to windward -to get round to this part of my story. I might -have put it all in a few words, perhaps, but -then I like people to understand what I am -about, and it seems to me necessary. If it -isn't, I dare say someone will tell me one -of these days. At any rate, here I have got -into San Francisco, a city I don't like by the -way, for it is a rascally place, managed by -the professional politicians, who are the worst -men in it; I had been badly wounded, -and the Malay was in prison, and (not -having money) he was likely to stay there. -</p> - -<p> -I was in the hospital for three weeks, and -I never had a more miserable or lonely time. -If I had not been stronger in constitution -than most men I think I should have died, so -much was I worried by my love for Elsie, -who was going away thinking me a scoundrel, -who had tried to gain the love of my -brother's wife. Of course she did not come -near me, though I knew the Flemings were -still in the city. I learnt so much from Will, -who had the grace to come and see me, -thanking me, too, for having saved the <i>Vancouver</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"You must get well soon, Tom," said he, -"for I need you very much just now." -</p> - -<p> -I kept silence, and he looked at me inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -"Will," I said at length, "I shall never I -sail with you again—I can't do it." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" he cried, in a loud voice, -which made the nurse come up and request -him to speak in a little lower tone. "Why -not? I can't see what difference it will make, -anything that has occurred." -</p> - -<p> -No, he did not see, but then he did not -know. How could I go in the ship again -with Helen? Besides, I had determined to -win Elsie for my wife, and how could I do -that if I let her go now, thinking what she -did of me? -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Will, I can't go," said I once more; -"and I don't think I shall go to sea again, I -am sick of it." -</p> - -<p> -Will stared, and whistled, and laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Ho!" said he; "I think I see how the -land lies. You are going to settle in British -Columbia, eh? You are a sly dog, but I can -see through you. I know your little love-affair; -Helen told me as much as that one day." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, Will," I answered wearily, for -I was out of heart lying there, "if you know, -you can understand now why I am not going -to sail with you. But, Will," and I rose on -my elbow, hurting myself considerably as I -did so, "let me implore you not to drink in -future. Have done with it. It will be your -ruin and your wife's—aye, and if I sailed -with you, mine as well. Give me your hand, -and say you will be a sober man for the -future, and then I shall be content to go -where I must go—aye, and where I will go." -</p> - -<p> -He gave me his hand, that was hot with -what he had been drinking even then (it was -eleven in the morning), and I saw tears in his -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"I will try, Tom," he muttered; "but——" -</p> - -<p> -I think that "but" was the saddest word, -and the most prophetic, I ever heard on any -man's lips. I saw how vain it was, and turned -away. He shook hands, and went without -saying more than "Good-by, Tom." I saw -him twice after that, and just twice. -</p> - -<p> -By the time I was out of the hospital the -<i>Vancouver</i> was ready to go to sea, being -bound to England; and she might have -sailed even then, only it was necessary for -Tom Mackenzie and one or two others to -remain as witnesses when they tried Matthias -for stabbing me. I shall not go into a long -description of the trial, for I have read in -books of late so many trial scenes that I fear -I should not have the patience to give details, -which, after all, are not necessary, since the -whole affair was so simple. And yet, what -followed afterward from that affair I can -remember as brightly and distinctly as if in -a glass—the look of the dingy court, the -fierce and revengeful eyes of Matthias, who -never spoke till the last, and the appearance -of Helen and Fanny (Elsie was not -there)—when the judge after the verdict inflicted a -sentence of eighteen months' hard labor on -the prisoner. Perhaps he had been in prison -before, and knew what it meant, or it was -simply the bitter thought of a revengeful -Oriental at being worsted by his opponent; -but when he heard the sentence, he leant -forward and grasped the rail in front of him -tightly, and spoke. His skin was dark and -yet pallid, the perspiration stood in beads on -his forehead, he bit his lips until blood came, -while his eyes looked more like the eyes of a -human beast than those of a man. This is -what he said as he looked at me, and he -spoke with a strange intensity which hushed -all noise. -</p> - -<p> -"When I come out of jail I will track you -night and day, wherever you go or whatever -you do to escape me. Though you think I -do not know where you are, I shall always -be seeking for you, and at last I shall find -you. If a curse of mine could touch you, -you should rot and wither now, but the time -will come when my hand shall strike you down!" -</p> - -<p> -Such was the meaning of what he said, -although it was not put exactly as I have -here written it down; and if I confess, as I -should have to do at last before the end of -this story comes, that the words and the way -they were spoken—spoken so vehemently -and with so fixed a resolution—made me -shiver and feel afraid in a way I had never -done before, I hope nobody will blame me; -but I am sure that being in love makes a -coward of a man in many ways, and in one -moment I saw myself robbed of life and love -just at their fruition. I beheld myself -clasping Elsie to my bosom, having won from her -at last an avowal of her love, and then -stabbed or shot in her arms. Ah! it was -dreadful the number of fashions my mind -went to work, in a quick fever of black -apprehension, to foretell or foresee my own -possible doom. I had never thought myself -cowardly, but then I seemed to see what -death meant better than I had ever done; -and often the coward is what he is, as I think -now, from a vivid imagination, which so -many of us lack. I went out of the court in -a strange whirl, for you see I had only just -recovered. If I had been quite well I might -have laughed instead of feeling as I did. -But I did not laugh then. -</p> - -<p> -Now, on the next morning the <i>Vancouver</i> -was to leave the harbor, being then at anchor -off Goat Island. All the money that was -due to me I had taken, for Will had given -me my discharge, and I sent home for what I -had saved, being quite uncertain what I -should do if I followed Elsie to British -Columbia. And that night I saw the last of -Will, the last I ever saw, little thinking then -how his fate and mine were bound up -together, nor what it was to be. Helen was -with him, and I think if he had been sober -or even gentle with her in his drink, she -would have never spoken to me again as she -did on that day when she believed that life -was nearly at its end for both of us. But -Will, having finished all his business, had -begun to drink again, and was in a vile -temper as we sat in a room at the American -Exchange Hotel, where I was staying. -Helen tried to prevent his drinking. -</p> - -<p> -"Will," she said, in rather a hard voice -from the constraint she put on herself, "you -have had enough of drink, we had better go -on board." -</p> - -<p> -"Go on board yourself," said he, "and -don't jaw me! I wish I had left you in -Australia. A woman on board a ship is like -a piano in the fo'c'sle. Come and have a -drink, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you," I said; "I have had -quite enough." -</p> - -<p> -And out he went, standing drinks at the -bar to half a dozen, some of whom would -have cut his throat for a dollar, I dare say, by -the looks of them. Then Helen came over -and sat down by me. -</p> - -<p> -"I have never spoken to you, Tom," she -began, and then she stopped, "since—you -know, since that dreadful day outside there," -and she pointed, just like a woman who -never knows the bearings of a place until she -has reckoned out how the house points first, -to the East when she meant the West, "and -now I feel I must, because I may never have -the chance again." -</p> - -<p> -She took out her handkerchief, although -she was dry-eyed, and twisted it into a -regular ground-swell knot, until I saw the stuff -give way here and there. She seemed -unable to go on, and perhaps she would not -have said more if we hadn't heard Will's -voice, thick with drink, as he demanded more -liquor. -</p> - -<p> -"Hear him!" she said hurriedly, "hear -the man who is my husband! What a fool I -was! You don't know, but I was. And I -am his wife! Ah! I could kill him! I -could! I could!" -</p> - -<p> -I was horrified to see the passion she was -in; it seemed to have a touch of real male -fury in it, just as when a man is trying to -control himself, feeling that if one more -provocation is given him he will commit murder, -for she shook and shivered, and her voice -was strangely altered. -</p> - -<p> -And just then Will came back, demanding -with an oath if she was ready to go. -She never spoke, but I should have been -sorry to have any woman look at me as she -did at him when his eyes were off her. I -shook hands with her and with him, for the -last time, and they went away. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning, being lonely and having -nothing to do I went out to the park, made -on the great sand-dunes which runs from the -higher city to the ocean beach and the Cliff -House on the south side of the Golden Gate. -For the sake of a quiet think I went out by -the cars, and walked to a place where few -ever came but chance visitors, except on -Sunday. It is just at the bend of the great -drive and a little above the road, where -there is a large tank with a wooden top, -which makes a good seat from which one -can see back to San Francisco and across the -bay to Oakland, Saucelito, and the other -little watering-places in the bay; or before -one, toward the opening of the Golden -Gate, and the guns of Alcatraz Island, where -the military prison is. Here I took my seat -and looked out on the quiet beautiful bay -and the sea just breaking in a line of foam -on the beach beneath me. The sight of the -ships at anchor was rather melancholy to me, -for my life had been on the sea. It seemed -as if a new and unknown life were before -me; and a sailor starting anything ashore is -as strange as though some inveterate dweller -in a city should go to sea. There were one -or two white sails outside the Heads, and -one vessel was being towed in; there was a -broad wake from the Saucelito ferry-boat, -and far out to sea I saw the low Farallones -lying like a cloud on the horizon. It was -beyond them that my new life had begun, -really begun; and though the day was fair, -I knew not how soon foul weather might -overtake me, and I knew indeed that it could -only be postponed unless fate were very -kind. I don't know how long I sat on that -tank drumming on the hollow wood, as I idly -picked up the pebbles from the ground and -threw them down into the road; but at last -I saw what I had partly been waiting -for—the <i>Vancouver</i> being towed out to sea. I -had no need to look at her twice; I knew -every rope in her, and every patch of paint, -to say nothing of her masts being ranked a -little more than is usual nowadays. I had -no glass with me, but I fancied I could see a -patch of color on her poop that was Helen. -</p> - -<p> -I watched the vessel which had been my -home—and which, but for me, would have -been lying a wreck over yonder—for more -than an hour, and then I turned to go home, -if I can call an American hotel "home" by -strained politeness, and just then I saw a -carriage come along. Now, I knew as well -before I could distinguish them that Elsie, -Fanny, and her father were in that carriage, -as I did that Helen was on board the -<i>Vancouver</i>; and I sat down again feeling -very faint—I suppose from the effects of -my wound, or the illness that came from it. -The carriage had almost passed beneath me—and -I felt Elsie saw me, though she made -no sign—before Mr. Fleming caught sight of me. -</p> - -<p> -"Hi! stop!" he called, and the driver -drew up. "Why, Mr. Ticehurst, is that -you? I thought the <i>Vancouver</i> had gone? -Besides, how does a mate find time to be -out here? Things must have changed -since I was at sea. Come down! Come down!" -</p> - -<p> -I did so, and shook hands with them all, -though Elsie's hand lay in mine like a dead -thing until she drew it away. -</p> - -<p> -"The <i>Vancouver</i> has gone, Mr. Fleming," -said I; "and there she is—look!" -</p> - -<p> -They all turned, and Elsie kept her eyes -fixed on it when the others looked at me again. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Fleming, "what does it all -mean? Where are you going? Back to -town? That's right, get in!" And without -more ado the old man, who had the grip of -a vise, caught hold of me, and in I came like -a bale of cotton. "Drive on!" -</p> - -<p> -"Now then," he went on, "you can tell us -why you didn't go with them." -</p> - -<p> -I paused a minute, watching Elsie. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Mr. Fleming," I said at last, "you -see I didn't quite agree with my brother." -</p> - -<p> -"H'm!—calls taking the command from -the captain not quite agreeing with him," -chuckled Fleming; "but I thought you made -it up, didn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, we made it up, but I wouldn't sail -with him any more. I had more than one reason." -</p> - -<p> -Again I looked at Elsie, and she was, I -thought, a little pleasanter, though she did -not speak. But Fanny pinched her arm, I -could see that, and looked roguishly at me. -However, Mr. Fleming, did not notice that byplay. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he said, a trifle drily as I fancied, -"I won't put you through your catechism, -except to ask you in a fatherly kind of way" -(Elsie looked down and frowned) "what you -are going to do now. I should have thought -after what that rascal of a half-bred Malay, -or whatever he is, said, that you would have -left California in a hurry." -</p> - -<p> -"Time enough, Mr. Fleming—time enough. -I have eighteen months to look out on -without fear of a knife in my ribs, and I may be -in China, or Alaska, or the Rocky Mountains -then." -</p> - -<p> -You see I wanted to give them a hint that -I might turn up in British Columbia. Fanny -gave me a better chance though, and I could -have hugged her for it. -</p> - -<p> -"Or British Columbia perhaps, Mr. Ticehurst?" -she said smiling very innocently. -</p> - -<p> -"Who knows," I answered, hastily; "when -a man begins to travel, there is no knowing -where he may turn up. I had a fancy to go -to Alaska, though." -</p> - -<p> -For the way to Alaska was the way to -British Columbia, and I did not want to -surprise them too much if I went on the same -steamer as far as Victoria. And in four -days I might see what chance I really had -with Elsie. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said the father, thoughtfully, "I -don't know, and can't give advice. I should -have thought that when a man was a good -sailor and held your position he ought to stick -to it. A rolling stone gathers no moss." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I answered, "but I am tired of the sea." -</p> - -<p> -"So am I," said Fanny, "and I don't -blame you, though you ought to go with -careless captains just on purpose to save -people's lives, you know, Mr. Ticehurst; for -you saved ours, and I think some of us -might thank you better than by sitting like a -dry stick without saying a word." -</p> - -<p> -With this she dug at Elsie with her elbow, -smiling sweetly all the time. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Elsie, "and there is Mr. Harmer -now in the <i>Vancouver</i>. Perhaps -she will be wrecked." -</p> - -<p> -This was the first word she had spoken -since I had entered the carriage, and I -recognized by its spite that Elsie was a -woman not above having a little revenge. -For poor Fanny, who had flirted quite a -little with Harmer, said no more. -</p> - -<p> -They put down at their hotel, and I went -inside with them. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Fleming, "I suppose we -shan't see you again, unless you do as Fanny -says, and turn up in our new country. If -you do, be sure we shall welcome you. And -I wish you well, my boy." -</p> - -<p> -I shook hands with them again, and -turned away; and as I did so, I noticed -some of their boxes marked, "Per -SS. <i>Mexico</i>." Fanny saw me looking, and -whispered quickly, as she passed me, "Tom -Ticehurst, go to Mexico!" and vanished, -while Elsie stood in the gaslight for a -moment as if in indecision. But she turned -away. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART II. -<br /><br /> -SAN FRANCISCO AND NORTHWARD. -</h3> - -<p> -I never felt so miserable and so inclined -to go to sea to forget myself in hard work -as I did that evening after I had bidden -farewell to Elsie and her people. It seemed -to me that she had let me go too easily -out of her life for her to really care for me -enough to make her influence my course in -the way I had hoped, and hoped still. -Indeed, I think that if she had not stayed -that one undecided moment after she -withdrew her hand from mine, I should have -never done what I did do, but have looked -for a ship at once. For, after all, I said to -myself, what could a modest girl do more? -Why, under the circumstances, when she -thought me guilty of a deliberate crime, -hateful to any woman, to say nothing of my -having made love to her at the same time, it -was really more than I could have expected -or hoped. It showed that I had a hold upon -her affections; and then Fanny thought so -too, or she would have never said what she -did. "Go to Mexico!" indeed; if I wasn't -a fool, it was not Mexico the country, but -<i>Mexico</i> the steamer she meant. I had one -ally, at any rate. Still, I wondered if she -knew what Elsie did, though I thought not, -for she alone kissed Helen when they said -good-by, and Elsie had only given her her -hand unwillingly. If I could speak to -Fanny it might help me. But I was -determined to go northward, and sent my -dunnage down on board the steamer that -very evening. -</p> - -<p> -In the morning, and early, for I lay awake -all that night, a thing I did not remember -having done before, I went down on the -Front at the bottom of Market Street, where -all the tram cars start, and walked to and fro -for some hours along the wharves where they -discharge lumber, or ship the coal. It was -quite a bright morning in the late autumn, -and everything was pleasant to look upon in -the pure air before it was fouled by the oaths -of the drivers of wagons and the jar of traffic. -Yet that same noise, which came dimly to me -until I was almost run over by a loaded -wagon, pleased me a great deal better than -the earlier quiet of the morning, and by eight -o'clock I was in a healthy frame of mind, -healthy enough to help three men with a -heavy piece of lumber just by way of -exercise. I went back to my room, washed my -hands, had breakfast, and went on board the -steamer, careless if the Flemings saw me, -though at first I had determined to keep out -of their way until the vessel was at sea. I -thanked my stars that I did so, for I saw -Fanny by herself on deck, and when she -caught sight of me she clapped her hands and -smiled. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, and where are you going, Mr. Ticehurst?" -said she, nodding at me as if she -guessed my secret. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to take your advice and go to -Mexico!" I answered. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it far here? By land do you go, or water?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not far, Fanny; in fact——" -</p> - -<p> -"You are——" -</p> - -<p> -"There now!" said I, laughing in my turn. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am so glad, Mr. Ticehurst!" said -she; "for——" and then she stopped. -</p> - -<p> -"For what, Fanny?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm afraid I can't tell you. I should be a -traitor, and that is cowardly." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Fanny, not when we are friends. If -you tell me, would you do any harm?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," she answered doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Then treachery is meant to do harm, and -if you don't mean harm it isn't treachery," I -replied coaxingly, but with bad logic as I have -been told since. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, perhaps I'll say something. -Now suppose you liked me very much——" -</p> - -<p> -"So I do, Fanny, I swear!" -</p> - -<p> -"No you don't, stupid! How can you? -I'm not twins—that is, I and somebody else -aren't the same—so don't interrupt. -Suppose you liked me very much, and I liked -you very much——" -</p> - -<p> -"It would be very nice, I dare say," I said, -in a doubtful way that was neither diplomatic -nor complimentary. -</p> - -<p> -"And suppose you went off, and suppose I -didn't speak to my sister for hours, and kept -on being a nasty thing by tossing and tumbling -about all night, so that she, poor girl, -couldn't go to sleep; and then suppose when -she did go off nicely, she woke up to find -me—what do you think—crying, what would it mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Fanny," I exclaimed, in delight, "you -are a dear girl, the very dearest——" -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "no!" -</p> - -<p> -"That I ever saw. If there weren't so -many folks about, I would kiss you!" -</p> - -<p> -And I meant it, but Fanny burst into -laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"The idea! I should like to see you try it. -I would box your ears till they were as red -as beetroot. But there, Tom, I am glad you -are coming on this dirty steamer. For I -have no one to talk to now but Elsie, and -she won't talk at all." -</p> - -<p> -However, Fanny's little woes did not -trouble me much, for I was thinking of my -own, and wondering how I ought to act. -</p> - -<p> -"Fanny," said I, "tell me what I shall do. -Shall I lie low and not show up until we are -out at sea, or what?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you don't want them to see you, you -had better look sharp, for they are coming -up now, I see Elsie's hat," said Fanny. And -I dived out of sight round the deck house, -and by dint of skillful navigation I got into -my bunk without any one seeing me. -</p> - -<p> -Now, the way Elsie found out I was on -board was very curious, and perhaps more -pleasing to Fanny than to her. My bunk -was an upper one, and through the open -porthole I could look out on to the wharf. As I -lay there, in a much happier frame of mind -than I had known for many days, I stared -out carelessly, watching the men at work, -and the passers-by; and suddenly to my -great astonishment, I saw young Harmer -looking very miserable and unhappy. He -had left the <i>Vancouver</i>, too, but of course -without leave, as he was an apprentice. Now, -if I was surprised I was angry, too. It was -such a foolish trick, and I thought I would -give him a talking to at once. I spoke -through the port. -</p> - -<p> -"You infernal young fool!" said I, "what -are you doing here? Why did you leave -your ship?" -</p> - -<p> -If ever I saw a bewildered face it was -Harmer's. For some seconds he looked -everywhere for the voice, and could not locate it -either on the wharf, deck, or anywhere else. -</p> - -<p> -"You ought to be rope's-ended for an -idiot!" I went on, and then he saw part -of my face, but without knowing who I was. -He flushed crimson, and looked like a young -turkeycock, with his wings down and his tail up. -</p> - -<p> -"Who the devil are you, anyhow," he -asked fiercely. "You come out here and I'll -pull your ugly head off!" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," I answered calmly, "my -head is of more use to me than yours is, -apparently; and if you don't know my voice, -it belongs to Tom Ticehurst!" -</p> - -<p> -Harmer jumped. -</p> - -<p> -"Hurrah! Oh, I'm so glad. I was looking -for you, Mr. Ticehurst, and hunting everywhere." -</p> - -<p> -"And not for anyone else, I suppose?" I -put in, and then I saw him look up. I knew -just as well as he did that he saw Fanny, and -I hoped that Elsie was not with her. But -she was. -</p> - -<p> -"How d'ye do, Miss Fleming?" said he -nervously; "and you, Miss Fanny? I hope -you are well. I was just talking to Mr. Ticehurst." -</p> - -<p> -I swore a little at this, and tumbled out of -my bunk, and went on deck to face the music, -as the Americans say, and I got behind the -girls in time to hear the little hypocrite Fanny -say sweetly: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mr. Harmer, you must be mistaken, -I'm sure! Mr. Ticehurst if going to Mexico -or somewhere. He can't be here." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Fanny," said the boy earnestly, -"I tell you he is, and there—just behind -you. By Jove, I am coming on board!" -</p> - -<p> -And he scrambled up the side like a -monkey, as Elsie turned and saw me. -</p> - -<p> -I said good-morning to her and we shook -hands. I could see she was nervous, and -fancied I could see traces of what Fanny, -who talked hard, had told me. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear me, Mr. Ticehurst!" said Fanny -vigorously. "You didn't shake hands with -me, and see the time it is since we last met! -Why, was it yesterday, or when? But men -are so forgetful. I never did like boys -when I was a little girl, and I shall keep -it up. Yes, Mr. Harmer, now I can shake -hands, for not having arms ten feet long I -couldn't reach yours over the rail, though -you did hold them out like a signal post." -</p> - -<p> -Then she and Harmer talked, and I lost -what they said. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is your father, Miss Fleming?" -I asked, for though I felt obliged to talk, -I could say nothing but that unless I -remarked it was a fine day. But it had been -fine for six months in California. -</p> - -<p> -"He went ashore, Mr. Ticehurst, and won't -be back until the steamer is nearly ready to -go. But now I must go down. Come, -Fanny!" -</p> - -<p> -"What for?" demanded that young lady. -"I'm not coming, I shall stay; I like the -deck, and hate the cabin—misty stuffy hole! -I shall not go down; as the pilot told the -man in the stupid song: 'I shall pace the -deck with thee,' Mr. Ticehurst, please." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Fanny," said I; "but I -want to talk to Harmer here before the -steamer goes, and if you will go with your -sister perhaps it will be best." -</p> - -<p> -She pouted and looked about her, and -with a parting smile for Harmer, and a -mouth for me, she followed Elsie. I turned -to the lad. -</p> - -<p> -"Now," I began, "you're a nice boy! -What does it all mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"It means that I couldn't stay on the -<i>Vancouver</i> if you weren't there, Mr. Ticehurst. -I made up my mind to that the moment -I heard you were leaving. I will go -on your next ship; but you know, if you -don't mind my saying it, I couldn't stand -your brother; I would rather be struck by you -than called a cub by him. A 'cub,' indeed—I -am as big as he is, and bigger!" -</p> - -<p> -So he was, and a fine handsome lad into -the bargain, with curly brown hair, though -his features were a little too feminine for his -size and strength. -</p> - -<p> -"Harmer," I said drily "I think you have -done it now very completely. This is my -next ship, and I am a passenger in her." -</p> - -<p> -He didn't seem to mind; in fact, he took it -so coolly that I began to think he knew. -</p> - -<p> -"That doesn't matter, Mr. Ticehurst," he -said cheerfully; "I will come with you." -</p> - -<p> -I stared. -</p> - -<p> -"The devil you will! Do you know -where I am going, what I am going to do?—or -have you any plans of your own cut and -dried for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see that it matters, Mr. Ticehurst," -he answered, with a coolness I -admired; "I have more than enough to pay -my fare, and if you go to British Columbia -I dare say I can get something to do there." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah? I see," I replied; "you are tired of -the sea, and would like to marry and settle -down, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me, and blushed a little. -</p> - -<p> -"All the more reason I should go with -you, sir; for then—then—there would be—you know." -</p> - -<p> -"What, Harmer?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"A pair of us," he answered humbly. -</p> - -<p> -"H'm, you are a nice boy? What will -your father say if he hears you have gone off -in this way?" -</p> - -<p> -Harmer looked at me and laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"He will say it was your fault, sir! -But I had better get my dunnage on board." -</p> - -<p> -And away he went. -</p> - -<p> -"Harmer, come back!" I cried, but he -only turned, nodded cheerfully, and -disappeared in the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -On the whole, although the appearance of -Harmer added a new responsibility to those -which were already a sufficient burden, I -was not ill-pleased, for I thoroughly liked -him, and had parted with him very unwillingly -when I shook his hand on board the -<i>Vancouver</i> for the last time, as I thought -then. At any rate, he would be a companion -for me, and if by having to look after him I -was prevented in any measure from becoming -selfish about Elsie, I might thank his boyish -foolishness in being unable to prevent -himself running after Fanny, whom, to say the -truth, I considered a little flirt, though a dear -little girl. And, then, Harmer might be able -to help me with Elsie. It was something to -have somebody about that I could trust in -case of accident. -</p> - -<p> -It was nearer eleven than ten when the -steamer's whistle shrieked for the last time, -and the crew began to haul the warps on -board. I could see that Elsie and Fanny -were beginning to think that their father -would arrive too late, when I saw him coming -along the wharf with Harmer just behind -him. Up to this time I really believed -Mr. Fleming, with the curious innocence that -fathers often show, even those who from their -antecedents and character might be expected -to know better, had never thought of me as -being his daughter's lover; but when he had -joined his daughters on the hurricane deck, -and caught sight of Harmer and myself -standing on the main, I saw in a moment -that he knew almost as much as we could tell -him, and that for a few seconds he was doubtful -whether to laugh or to be angry. I saw -him look at me sternly for a few seconds, -then he shook his head with a very -mixed smile on his weather-beaten face, and, -sitting down on the nearest beach, he burst -into laughter. I went up the poop ladder -and caught Fanny's words: -</p> - -<p> -"Why, father, what is the matter with -you? Don't laugh so, all the people will -think you crazy?" -</p> - -<p> -"So I am, my dear, clean crazy," he -answered; "because I fancied I saw Tom -Ticehurst and young Harmer down on deck there, -and of course it is impossible, I know that—quite -impossible. It was an hallucination. -For what could they want here, I should like -to know? You don't know, of course? -Well, well, I am surprised!" -</p> - -<p> -Just then I came up and showed myself, -looking quite easy, though I confess to -feeling more like a fool than I remember doing -since I was a boy. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, then you are here, Ticehurst?" said -the old man. "It wasn't a vision, after all. -I was just telling Fanny here that I thought -I was going off my head." -</p> - -<p> -I laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr. Fleming," I said, "is it -impossible that I, too, should go to Victoria, on -my way to Alaska?" -</p> - -<p> -Fleming looked at me curiously, and almost -winked. "Ah! Alaska, to be sure," -said he. "You did speak of Alaska. It -must be a nice place. You will be quite -close to us. Come over and give us a call." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you for the invitation," I replied, -laughing. "I will come to tea, and bring my -young friend with me." -</p> - -<p> -For Harmer now walked up, shook hands -with the old man in the most ordinary way, -and sat down between him and Fanny with -a coolness I could not have imitated for my -life. It is a strange thing to think of the -amount of impudence boys have from -seventeen to twenty-three or so; they will do -things a man of thirty would almost faint to -attempt, and succeed because they don't -know the risk they run. Harmer was soon -engaged in talk with Fanny, and I tried in -vain to imitate him. I found Elsie as cold -as ice; I could make no impression on her -and was almost in despair at the very outset. -If Fanny had told me the truth in the -morning, then Elsie held a great command over -herself. I soon gave up the attack and -retreated to my berth, where I smoked -savagely and was miserable. You can see I did -not understand much about women then. -</p> - -<p> -The passage from San Francisco to Victoria -takes about four days, and in that time -I had to make up my mind what I was -going to do. If what Fanny said were true, -Elsie loved me, and it was only that foolish -and wretched affair with Helen that stood in -my way. Yet, could I tell the girl how -matters were? It seemed to me then, and -seems to me now, that I was bound in honor -not to tell her. I could not say to her -brutally that my brother's wife had made love to -me, and that I was wholly blameless. It -would be cowardly, and yet I ought to clear -myself. It was an awkward dilemma. -Then, again, it was quite possible that Fanny -was mistaken; if she did not care for me, it -was all the harder, and I could not court her -with that mark against me. Yet I was -determined to win her, and as I sat in my -berth I grew fierce and savage in my heart. -I swore that I would gain her over, I would -force her to love me, if I had to kill any who -stood in my way. For love makes a man -devilish sometimes as well as good. I had -come on board saying, "If I see no chance -to win her before I get to Victoria, I will -let her go." And now when we were just -outside the Golden Gate, I swore to follow her -always. "Yes, even if she spurns me, if -she mocks, taunts me, I will make her -come to me at last, put her arms round my -neck, and ask my forgiveness." I said this, -and unconsciously I added, "I will follow -her night and day, in sunshine and in rain, in -health or sickness." -</p> - -<p> -Then I started violently, for I was using -words like those of the Malay, who was -waiting his time to follow me, and for ever -in the daytime or nighttime I knew he was -whetting the keen edge of his hate. I could -see him in his cell; I could imagine him -recalling my face to mind, for I knew what -such men are. I had served as second mate -in a vessel that had been manned with -Orientals and the off-scourings of Singapore, -such as Matthias was, and I knew them only -too well. He would follow me, even as I -followed her, and as she was a light before -me, he would be a dark shadow behind me. -I wished then that I had killed him on board -the <i>Vancouver</i>, for I felt that we should one -day meet; and who could discern what our -meeting would bring forth in our lives? I -know that from that time forward he never -left me, for in the hour that I vowed to -follow Elsie until she loved me, I saw very -clearly that he would keep his word, though -he had but strength to crawl after me and -kill me as I slept. Henceforth, he was -always more or less in my mind. Yet, if I -could win Elsie first, I did not care. It -might be a race between us, and her love -might be a shield to protect me in my hour -of need. I prayed that it might be so, -and if it could not, then at least let me -win her love before the end. -</p> - -<p> -For two days I kept out of the Flemings' -way, or rather out of the way of the girls, -for Mr. Fleming himself could not be -avoided, as he slept in the men's berth in a -bunk close to mine. I believe that the first -day on board he spoke to Elsie about me; -indeed I know he did, for I heard so -afterward; and I think it was only on her -assurance that there was and could be -nothing between us, that he endured the -situation so easily. In the first place, -although he was not rich, he was fairly -well off in Australia; and though the -British Columbian ranch property was -not equal in value to that which he had -made for himself, yet it represented a sum -of money such as I could not scarcely make -in many years in these hard times. It would -hardly be human nature for a father to look -upon me as the right sort of man for his -daughter, especially since I was such a fool -as to quit the sea without anything definite -awaiting me on land. So, I say, that if he -had thought that Elsie loved me I might -have found him a disagreeable companion, -and it was no consolation to me to see that -he treated me in a sort of half-contemptuous, -half-pitying way, for I would rather have -seen him like one of the lizards on the -Australian plains, such as the girls had -told me of, which erect a spiny frill over -their heads, and swell themselves out the -whole length of their body until their -natural ugliness becomes a very horror and -scares anything which has the curiosity -or rashness to approach and threaten them. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you going to do in Alaska or -British Columbia, Tom?" said he to me one -day. "Do you think of farming, or -seal-hunting, or gold-mining, or what? I -should like to hear your plans, if you have -any." And then he went on without waiting -for an answer, showing plainly that he -thought that I had none, and was a fool. -"And that young idiot Harmer, why -didn't he stick to his ship?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because he will never stick to anything, -Mr. Fleming," I answered, "though he is a -clever young fellow, and fit for other things -than sailoring, if I'm a judge. But as for -myself I don't think I am, and yet when I -make up my mind to a thing, I usually do it." -</p> - -<p> -"You usually succeed, then?" said he, -with a hard smile. "It is well to have -belief in one's own strength and abilities. -But sometimes others have strength as well, -and then"—— -</p> - -<p> -"And then," I answered, "it is very often -a question of will." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled again and dropped the subject. -</p> - -<p> -On the third day out from San Francisco, -when we were running along the coast of -Oregon, I found at last an opportunity of -speaking to Elsie. I first went to Fanny. -</p> - -<p> -"Fanny, my dear girl, I want to speak -to you a few minutes." I sat down beside her. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you know, Fanny, why I am -here, don't you?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is tolerably obvious, Mr. Ticehurst," -she answered rather gravely, I thought. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I suppose it is; but first I want -to be sure whether you were right about -what you told me on the morning we left -San Francisco." -</p> - -<p> -I was silent, and looked at her. She -seemed a trifle distressed. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Tom, I thought that I was," she -answered at length; "and I still think I -am—and yet I don't know. You see, Elsie is a -strange girl, and never confides in anyone -since dear mother died, and she would never -confess anything to me. Still, I have eyes -in my head, and ears too. But since you -have been with us she has been harder and -colder than I ever saw her in all my life, and -she has said enough to make me think that -there is something that I know nothing about -which makes her so. You know, I joked her -about you yesterday, and she got so angry -all of a sudden, like pouring kerosene on a -fire, and she said you were a coward. When -I asked her why, she turned white and -wouldn't answer. Then I said of course you -must be a coward if she said so, but I didn't -think she had any right to say it or think it -when you had saved all our lives by your -coolness and courage. And then, you know, -I got angry and cried, because I like you -very much, just as much as I do my brother -on the station at home. And I said she was -a cruel beast, and all kinds of horrid things, -until I couldn't think of anything but making -faces at her, just as I did when I was a child. -And we are having a quarrel now, and it is -all about you—you ought to be proud." And -Fanny looked up half laughing and half -crying, for she dearly loved Elsie, as I knew. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my dear little sister Fanny," I said, -"for you shall be my sister one day, there is -something that makes her think ill of me, -but it is not my fault, as far as I can see. -And I can't convince her of that, except by -showing her that I am not the man she -thinks, unless some accident puts me back -into the place I once believed I held in her -thoughts. But I want to speak to her, and I -must do it to-day. To-morrow we shall be -in Victoria, and I should not like to part -with her without speaking. If I talk with -her now, it will probably take some time, so -I want you, if you can, to prevent anyone -interrupting us." -</p> - -<p> -Fanny nodded, and wiped away a tear -in a quick manner, just as if it were a fly. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, I will. You know I trust -you, if Elsie doesn't." And she went over -to Harmer, who was in a fidget, and kept -looking at me as if he was wondering what I -meant by talking so confidentially to Fanny. -</p> - -<p> -I found Elsie sitting by herself just -forward of the funnel. She was reading, and -though when I spoke she answered and put -the book down in her lap, she kept looking -at it in a nervous way, as if she wished I had -not interrupted her; and we had been talking -some minutes before she seemed to wholly -forget that it was there. -</p> - -<p> -I spoke without any thought of what I -was going to say. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Fleming (see, I call you that, though -a little while ago it was Elsie), I have -determined to speak to you in spite of the way -you avoid me." -</p> - -<p> -"I would rather you did not, Mr. Ticehurst," -she said. -</p> - -<p> -"It has come to a time when I must do as -I think fit, even if I am rude and rough. I -have something to say, and mean to say it, -Miss Fleming; and if I word it in rough or -broken fashion, if I stumble over it or -stammer with my tongue, you will know why, -just as you know why I am here. Come -now, why am I on this steamer?" -</p> - -<p> -She remained mute, with her head bent -down, and the gold of her hair loose over her -eyes, so that I could not see them. But she -trembled a little, and was ripping one of the -pages of her book. I took hold of it and put -it down. She made no remonstrance, and I -began to feel that I had power over her, -though how far it went I could not tell. -</p> - -<p> -"Why am I here?" I went on scornfully. -"Oh, on a pleasure trip to see the advertised -coast from San Francisco to Sitka, to behold -Mount Elias and its glaciers! By Heavens, -I think I have ice nearer at hand! Oh, it is -business? I wish to gain wealth, so I give -up what I understand, and go into what is as -familiar to me as a sextant is to a savage! -It can't be business. Do you know what it -is, Miss Fleming? Look, I think there was -a girl who I knew once, but she was a kind, -bright girl, who was joyous, whom I called -by her Christian name, who walked by my -side in the moonlight, when the sails were -silvered and their shadows dark, when I kept -the first watch in the <i>Vancouver</i>. I wonder -what has become of her? That girl would -have known, but——" -</p> - -<p> -I stopped, and she was still stubborn. -But she did not move. I went on again: -</p> - -<p> -"There must be evil spirits on the sea that -fly like petrels in the storm, and come on -board ship and enter into the hearts of those -they find there. Why——" -</p> - -<p> -"I fear, Mr. Ticehurst," she interrupted, -"that you think me a fool. If I am not, -then your talk is vain; and if I am, I surely -am not fit to mate with you. Let us cease to -talk about this, for it is useless!" -</p> - -<p> -I was almost choking with passion; it was -so hard to be misconceived, even though she -had so much reason on her side. Yet, since -I knew she was wrong, I almost wished to -shake her. -</p> - -<p> -"No!" I said at last, "I will not go until -I have an understanding one way or the -other. We have been beating about the -bush, but I will do it no longer. You know -that I love you!" -</p> - -<p> -She drew herself up. -</p> - -<p> -"How many can you love at a time, -Mr. Ticehurst?" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"One, only one," I replied. "You are -utterly mistaken." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not mistaken!" she said; "and I -think you are a coward and a traitor. If -you were not, I might love you; but as you -are, such a thing is impossible." -</p> - -<p> -I caught her by the wrist. Instinctively -she tried to free herself, but finding she -could not, looked up. When she caught my -eye, her indignant remonstrance died on her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Look you, Elsie, what can I do? -Perhaps I cannot defend myself; there are -some situations where a man cannot for the -sake of others. I can say no more about -that. And I will make you see you are -wrong, if not by proof, by showing you -what I am—a man incapable of what you -think me—and in the end I will make you -love me." I paused for a moment, but she -did not move. -</p> - -<p> -"You have listened to me; Elsie, and you -can see what I mean, you can think whether -I shall falter or swerve; and now I ask you, -for I am assured you do love me, or that you -did, whether you will not trust me now? -For you cannot believe that I could speak -as I do if I had done what you think." -</p> - -<p> -I looked at Elsie, and she was very pale. -I could see that I had moved her, had -shaken her conviction, that she was at war -with herself. I got up, went to the side, -and then turned, beckoning to her to look -over to seaward with me. She came almost -like a woman walking in her sleep, and took -a place by my side. I did so to avoid -notice, for I feared to attract attention; -indeed, I saw two passengers looking at us -curiously, one of whom smiled so that I -began to wish to throw him overboard. Yet -I think, as a matter of fact, I did wrong in -allowing her to move; it broke the influence -I held over her in a measure, for I have -often noticed since that to obtain control of -some people one should keep steadily -insisting on the one point, and never allow -them to go beyond, or even to think beyond -it. But then to do so one must be stronger -than I was, or he will lose control over -himself, as I did, and so make errors in -judgment. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie," I said quietly, "are you not -going to answer me? Or am I not worth it?" -</p> - -<p> -Now, up to this moment I had taken her -away from the past; in her emotion she had -almost forgotten Helen; she was just wavering -and was on the point of giving in to me. -Yet by that last suggestion of mine I -brought it back to her. I could see in her -mind the darker depths of her fear and -distrust of me, and what I rightly judged -her hatred and jealousy of Helen. Though I -do not think I know much of character, yet in -the state of mind that I was in then I seemed -to see her mind, as a much more subtle man -might have done, and my own error. I could -have cursed my own folly. She had taken -the book again, and was holding it open in -her hand. Until I spoke she held it so -lightly that it shook and wavered, but she -caught it in both hands and shut it suddenly, -as though it was the book of her heart that -I had been reading, and she denied my right -to do it. And she turned toward me cold -once more, though by a strange influence she -caught my thought. -</p> - -<p> -"This is a closed book, Mr. Ticehurst. It -is the book of the past, and—it is gone for -ever." She dropped it over the side with a -mocking smile. But I caught hold of her -hand and held it. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said I, "then we begin again. If -the past is dead, the present lives, and the -future is yet unborn. You mean one thing -now, and I mean the other; but in the -future we shall both mean the same. -Remember what I say, Elsie—remember it. -For unless I am dead, I will be your -acknowledged lover and your husband at last." -</p> - -<p> -I dropped her hand and walked away, and -when I looked back I saw her following me -with her eyes. I would have given much -then to have been able to know of what she -thought. I went below and slept for many -hours a sleep of exhaustion, for though a -man may be as strong as a lion physically, an -excess of emotion takes more from him than -the most terrible physical toil. -</p> - -<p> -The next morning we were in Victoria, and -I neither had, nor did I seek, an opportunity -of again speaking with Elsie. But I did talk -for a few moments with Fanny. I told her -some part of what occurred, but not much. -She said as much: -</p> - -<p> -"You are keeping something back, Tom. -I think you know some reason why Elsie -won't have anything to do with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do, Fanny," I replied: "but there is -nothing in it at all, and one of these days she -will discover it." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope so," said she, a little dryly for so -young a girl; "but Elsie is a little obstinate, -and I have seen horses that would not jump a -gate. You may have to open it yet, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -"It may open of it itself, Fanny, or the -horse may desire the grass and jump at last; -but I will never open it myself." -</p> - -<p> -And I shook hands with her and Mr. Fleming. -I took off my hat to Elsie, but -said in a low voice: -</p> - -<p> -"Remember what I said, Elsie, for I shall -never forget." And then she turned away; -but did not look back this time, as she had -done when we parted in the hotel. Yet -such is the curious state a lover is in that I -actually comforted myself that she did not, -for if she had, I said, it would have showed -she was callous and cold. Perhaps, though -she kept command over herself just for the -time, it failed her at the last, and she would -not let me see it. -</p> - -<p> -When they were gone, Harmer and I went -ashore too. As to the boy, he was so -desperately in love—calf-love—that I had to -cheer him up, and the way I did it makes me -laugh now, for I have a larger experience of -boys and men than I had then. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind, Harmer," said I, "you will -get over this in no time—see if you don't." -</p> - -<p> -He turned round in a blazing rage, and I -think if it had not been for the effects of the -old discipline, which was yet strong upon -him, he would have sworn at me; for -although Harmer looked as if butter wouldn't -melt in his mouth, I knew he had a very -copious vocabulary of abuse at his command, -such as one learns only too easily at sea. -</p> - -<p> -"What, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said stammering. -"Get over it? I never shall, and I -don't want to, and, what's more, I wouldn't -if I could! It's not kind of you to say so, -and I think—I think——" -</p> - -<p> -"What, Jack?" said I, thunderstruck at -this outburst, when I meant consolation. -</p> - -<p> -"That you'll get over it first. There -now!" said he, triumphant with this retort -I burst into laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"Well—well, Harmer, I didn't mean to -vex you. We must not quarrel now, for -Jordan's a hard road to travel, I believe, and -you and I have got to make lots of money; -at least you have; if we are going to do -anything in this country. For it's what the -Yankees call a tough place." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," replied Harmer, now ashamed of -of being angry. "I heard one fellow say to -another on the steamer, 'You goldarned -fellers from the East think you're going to -get a soft seat over here, but you bet you'll -have to rustle on the Pacific Slope or else -git!' And then he turned to me. 'D'ye -hear that, young feller?—you've got to rustle -right smart, or you'll get left.'" -</p> - -<p> -And Jack laughed heartily trying to imitate -the accent of his adviser, but he found it -hard to disguise his own pure English, learnt -in a home far across the seas and the wide -stretch of the American Continent. -</p> - -<p> -That night we stayed in Victoria in a rough -hotel kept by two brothers, Cornishmen, who -invited us both to have drinks on the strength -of our all being Englishman, though I should -never have suspected that they were such, so -well did their accent disguise the truth from -me. And in the morning, two days after, we -went on board the <i>Western Slope</i> bound for -New Westminster, on the mainland of British -Columbia, whither the Flemings had preceded us. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART III. -<br /><br /> -A GOLDEN LINK. -</h3> - -<p> -What I have just written is but the -connecting link between two series of -events—the hyphen between two words; -and I shall not try to hurry on to the strange -drama of a few days to which all that precedes -it has been but the inevitable prologue, -without which there were no clear understanding -of its incidents. I am going, therefore, -to dispose of a whole year's events in a -few words, though much occurred in that -time which might be worth relating, if I -were a professional writer, able to make -things interesting to all, or if I had the -faculty of making word-pictures of places -and scenes which stand out clearly before -me whenever I reflect, and the full times of -the past come up for review. -</p> - -<p> -What Jack Harmer and I did for that -year truly would take ten times the space I -have allowed myself, and have been allowed, -and I shall say but little now if I can only -dispose of that twelve months in a way that -places my readers in a position to clearly -understand what passed in the thirteenth -month after I had landed in British Columbia. -</p> - -<p> -Now on our landing we had but £40 -between us, and I was the possessor of nearly -all that amount, about two hundred dollars -in American currency. It is true I had a -hundred and fifty pounds in England, which -I had sent for, and Harmer had quite coolly -asked his father for fifty, which I may state -here he did <i>not</i> get in a letter which advised -him to return to England, and go in for -something worth having before it was too late. -</p> - -<p> -"He means the Civil Service, I know," -said Jack, when he read the letter; "and I -hate the notion. They are all fossils in it, -and if they have brains to start with, they -rarely keep them—why should they? -They're not half as much use as a friend at -court." -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps he was right, yet I advised him -to take his father's advice, and he took -neither his nor mine, but stuck to me -persistently with a devotion that pleased and -yet annoyed me. For I desired a free hand, -and with him I could not get it. I had some -idea of going in for farming when I landed. -I would get a farm near Elsie's father, and -stay there. But I found I hadn't sufficient -money, or anything like sufficient, to buy -land near Thomson Forks. So I looked -round, and, in looking round, spent money. -Finally, I got Harmer something to do in a -sawmill on Burrard's Inlet, a position which -give him sufficient to live on, but very little -more; and yet he had not to work very hard, -in fact he tallied the lumber into the ships -loading in the Inlet for China and Australia, and -wrote to me that he liked his job reasonably -well, though he was grieved to be away -from me. As for myself, I went up to -Thomson Forks, looked round me there, -and at the hotel fell in with a man named -Mackintosh, an American from Michigan, a -great strong fellow, with a long red beard, -and an eye like an eagle's, who was going -up in the Big Bend gold-hunting, prospecting -as they call it. I told him, after we got -into conversation, that I wanted to go farming. -</p> - -<p> -He snorted scornfully, and immediately -began to dilate on gold-mining and all the -chances a man had who possessed the grit to -tackle it. And as I knew I really had too -little money to farm with, it wasn't long -before he persuaded me to be his partner and -go with him. For I liked him at once, and -was feeling so out in the cold that I was -glad to chum with anyone who looked like -knowing his way about. We were soon in -the thick of planning our campaign, and Mac -got very fluent and ornamental in his -language as he drank and talked. However, I -did not mind that much, although his -blasphemy was British Columbian, and rather -worse than that in use on board ship. Yet -people do not think the sea a mean school of -cursing. Presently, as I turned round at the -bar, I saw Mr. Fleming, who did not notice -me until I spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-morning, Mr. Fleming," I said; -"will you drink with me?" -</p> - -<p> -He turned round sharply at the sound -of my voice, and then shook my hand, -half doubtfully at first, and then more -heartily. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Ticehurst," he said at last, "I am -glad to see you, after all. Hang it, I am! for" -(here he lowered his voice to a whisper) -"I don't care about the style of this place -after New South Wales. They nearly all -carry revolvers here, damn it! as if they -were police; and last time I came in, my -man and another fellow fought, and Siwash -Jim (that's what they call him) tried to -gouge out the other chap's eyes. And when -I pulled him off, the other men growled about -my spoiling a fight. What do you think of -that?" -</p> - -<p> -And the old man stared at me inquiringly, -and then laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Wish I could ask you over to the Creek, -but I can't, and you know why. Take my -advice and go back to sea. Now, look here, -let's speak plain. I know you want Elsie; -but it's a mistake, my boy. She didn't care -for you; and I know her, she's just like her -mother, the obstinatest woman you ever saw -when she made up her mind. I wouldn't -mind much if she did care for you, though -perhaps you aint so rich as you ought to be, -Tom. But then my wife had more money -than I had by a long sight, so I don't care -for that. But seeing that Elsie doesn't want -you, what's the use? Take my advice and -go to sea again." -</p> - -<p> -Here he stopped and gave me the first -chance of speaking I had had since I -accosted him. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, Mr. Fleming," I said firmly; -"but I can't go back yet. I am glad you -have no great objection to me yourself, but -I believe that Elsie hasn't either, and I'm -bound to prove it; and I will." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you know best," he replied. "But -mind your eye, old boy, when your friend the -Malay comes out. I shouldn't like to be on -the same continent with him, if I were you." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't like being either," I said. "But -then it shows how fixed I am on one object. -And I shall not go, even if he were to find -out where I am. For I might have to kill -him. Yet I don't see how he can find out. -Nobody knows or will know, except my -brother, and he won't tell him." -</p> - -<p> -Fleming shrugged his shoulders and -dropped the subject to take up his own -affairs. -</p> - -<p> -"Damn this country, my boy! give me a -plain where I can see a few miles. On my -soul, this place chokes me; I can't look out -five hundred yards for some thundering old -mountain! At the Creek there are hills at -the back, at the front, and on both sides, and -nearly all are chokeful of trees, so that -riding after the cattle is worse than going after -scrub cattle in Australia. I can't get the -hang of the place at all, and though I am -supposed to own nearly two hundred head of -cattle, I can't muster seventy-five on my own -place. Some are up at Spullamacheen, some -on the Nicola, and others over at the Kettle -River on the border, for all I know. And -the place is full of cañons, as they call -gulches in this place; and thundering holes -they are, two hundred feet deep, with a -roaring stream at the bottom. The Black -Cañon at the back of my place gives me the -shivers. I am like a horse bred on the -plains; when it gets on the mountains it is -all abroad, and shivers at the sight of a -sharp slope. I reckon I can ride on the -flat, old as I am, but here, if it wasn't for my -scoundrel Siwash Jim, who says he knows -the country like a book, I shouldn't know -where to go or what to do. Here he comes, -the vagabond!" -</p> - -<p> -I had learnt by this time that Siwash -means Indian, for in that country they say -Siwashes instead of Indians, so I thought -Jim was one of the natives. However, I -saw at once he wasn't, for though he was -dark, his features were pure white. He had -earned his nickname by living with the -Indians for so many years that he was more -at home with them than with white people, -and he had acquired all their vices as well -as a goodly stock of his own, probably -inherited. He was a slightly built man of -about forty, with a low forehead, a sharp -aquiline nose, and no lips to speak of; his -mustache was short, and a mere line; his -teeth were black with smoking and chewing; -his legs bowed with continual riding. He -wore mocassins, and kept his hair long. He -was more than half intoxicated when he -came in, carrying a stock-whip coiled round -his neck. He did not speak, but drank -stolidly; and when he looked at me, I -fancied it was with an air of dislike, as -though he had read my thoughts and knew -how I regarded him. -</p> - -<p> -I drew Fleming aside. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't like him," said I; "and wouldn't -trust him farther than I could swing a bull -by the tail. Do the girls like him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Like him!" repeated Fleming, "they -hate him, and want me to give him the -bounce, as they say here. Elsie says he -looks like a murderer, and Fanny that he is -uglier than a Murrumbidgee black fellow. -But then he knows the country and does his -work, and don't want to go. I don't care -much either way, for when I can get all the -cattle together and put the place in order I -shall sell out and go back. Stay in British -Columbia—no, sir, I won't! not if they make -me Governor. I tell you I like to be where -I can see ten miles. Then I can breathe. I -can go out at home and see all my station -and almost count the sheep and cattle from -my door; and here I have to ride up and -ride down, and I never know where I am. -I'm going back just as soon as I can." -</p> - -<p> -And he went away then without asking -where I was going or whether I was doing -anything. Next morning I jumped on board -the steamer with Mac and started for the -head of the Shushwap Lakes. Thence we -went into the Big Bend, and though we -never made the millions Mac was always -prophesying about and hungering for, our -summer's work was not wasted. For before -the season was over we had struck a rich -pocket and made about four thousand dollars -a piece. -</p> - -<p> -Of course I wanted to up stick and go -back as soon as I had as much as that, but -Mac would not hear of it. -</p> - -<p> -"No, Tom—no," said he; "there's more -here yet." -</p> - -<p> -And he eyed me so entreatingly that I -caved in and promised to remain with him -prospecting, at any rate till the first snow. -</p> - -<p> -But a week after making that agreement -we both went down to the Columbia for -more provisions. Finding none there, we had -to make the farther journey to the Landing. -There I found a letter waiting for me from -Harmer, saying that he was tired of the -sawmill on the Inlet, and wanted to join me. I -wrote back requesting him to be good -enough to stay where he was, but, to console -him, promised that if I saw any chance of his -doing better with me I would send for him. -He asked rather timidly for news of Fanny. -How could I give him news when I knew -nothing of Elsie? Yet the simple mention -of the girl's name again made me anxious to -get back to the Forks, and if one of the -steamers had come up the lake I think I -should have deserted Mac in spite of my -promise. Yet we had only brought down -half the gold that trip, perhaps because my -partner had made a calculation as to what I -might do, having it on me, if we got within -reach of some kind of civilization, and I -thought it best to secure the rest while I -could, though I thoroughly trusted Mac. At -the same time that I answered Harmer's -letter I wrote one to my brother, telling -him both what I had done and what I -proposed doing later on. And I begged him to -be careful, if he should be in San Francisco -then, of the Malay when his time was up. -For although his chief spite was against me, -yet Will was my brother, and I well remembered -the look that he had cast on him when -he was kicked in the struggle between Will -and myself. -</p> - -<p> -The rest of the summer—and a beautiful -season it was in the wooded mountains—was -spent in very unsuccessful prospecting. For -one thing, after our success Mac had taken to -prospecting for pockets; and if gold-mining -be like gambling as a general rule, that is -almost pure chance. Once or twice he was -in high spirits at good indications, but on -following them up we were invariably -disappointed, and we had to start again. -August and September passed, and the -higher summits above us were already white -with snow, which fell on us in the lower -valleys as rain. In October there was a -cessation of bad weather for a time, and Mac -promised himself a long fall season, but at -the end of it we woke one morning to find a -foot of snow on our very camping ground. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall have to get up and get," said I -cheerfully, for I was glad of it. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, no!" said Mac; "this is nothing. -It will all go again by to-morrow; there will -be nothing to stop us from another week or -two. Besides, yesterday I had a notion that -I saw something. I didn't tell you, but I -found another bit of quartz—aye, richer than -the piece I showed you at the Forks, Tom, -and we've got to find out where it comes from." -</p> - -<p> -I groaned, but, in spite of argument, there -was no moving him; and though I was -angry enough to have gone off by myself, -yet knowing neither the trail nor the country -well, I had no desire to get lost in the -mountains, which would most assuredly have -meant death to me. However, I still remonstrated, -and at last got him to fix ten days as -the very longest time he would remain: I -was obliged to be content with that. -</p> - -<p> -But Mac was sorry before the hour -appointed for our departure that he had not -taken my advice, "tenderfoot" and -Englishman though I was. On the evening of the -eighth day the temperature, which had up to -that time been fairly warm in spite of our -altitude and the advanced season, fell -suddenly, and it became bitterly cold. Our -ponies, who had managed to pick up a fair -living on the plateau where our camp stood, -and along the creek bottoms, came right up -to our tent, and one of them put his head -inside. "Dick," as we called him, was a much -gentler animal than most British Columbian -cayuses, and had made a friend of me, -coming once a day at least for me to give him a -piece of bread, of which he had grown fond, -though at first he was as strange with it as a -young foal with oats. I put up my hand -and touched his nose, which was soft and -silky, while the rest of his coat was long and -rough. He whinnied gently, and I found a -crust for him, and then gently repulsing him, -I fastened the fly of the tent. Mac was fast -asleep under his dark blankets, whence there -came sudden snorts like those a bear makes -in his covert, or low rumblings like thunder -from a thick cloud. -</p> - -<p> -But it was he who woke me in the -morning, and he did it without ceremony. -</p> - -<p> -"Get up, old man!" he said hurriedly, -while he was jamming himself, as it were, -into his garments. "The snow's come at -last—and, by thunder, it's come to stay! -There's no time to be lost!" And he -vanished into the white space outside. -</p> - -<p> -When I followed I found him already at -work packing the ponies, and without any -words I set to, struck the tent, rolled it up, -and got together everything I thought -should go. When I touched the tools Mac -turned round. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave 'em, pard—leave 'em. There's -plenty of weight without that. Aye, -plenty—and too much!" -</p> - -<p> -The last I only just caught, for it was said -to himself. In half an hour we were off, -leaving behind us nearly three weeks' -provisions, all the tools but two light -shovels, and what remained after our -working the quartz. -</p> - -<p> -"It's worth a thousand dollars," said Mac, -regretfully, "but without a proper crusher -it's only tailings." -</p> - -<p> -We moved off camp, Mac first, leading -the nameless pony, which was the stronger -of the two, and I following with Dick. -</p> - -<p> -The snow was two feet deep in many -parts, and in some drifts much more than -that. Fortunately, the trail was for its -greater length well sheltered, both by -overhanging rocks and big trees, spruce, -cedar, hemlock, and pine, which helped to -keep it clear; but it was evident to me by -the way the ponies traveled, and the labor -it was for me to get along with no other -burden than the shovel, from which I -sometimes used to free Dick, that another -fall of snow would make traveling almost -impossible. Mac walked on in somber -silence, reflecting doubtless that it was his -obstinacy which had brought us into -trouble, a thing I confess I was not so -forgiving as to forget, though merciful -enough not to remind him of it. It had -taken us three days to come up from the -Columbia, and it seemed barely possible -under the circumstances to retrace our steps -in the same time, even although the horses -were not so much burdened and there was -not so much hard climbing to be done. But -I could see Mac was bent on getting out, and -he traveled without more rest than we were -absolutely compelled to take on account of -the animals. As for myself, I confess that -though I had traveled that same trail twice, -yet so greatly was it altered by the snow -that I should have lost my way in the -first mile. For mountaineering and the -knowledge of locality are things not to be -learnt in a hurry, they must come by long -custom, or by native instinct. -</p> - -<p> -Sorrowfully—for I am always loth to -harm even a noxious animal, as long as it -leaves me alone—I suggested to Mac that we -should leave the horses. He shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"Who'll carry the provisions, then?" said he. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think we can get to the Landing, -Mac?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall be lucky," he answered, with a -significant nod, "if we get to the other side of -the Columbia. Tom, I think I have let you -in for a winter up here, unless you care about -snow-shoeing it over the other pass. I was a -fool—say yes to that if you like." -</p> - -<p> -It was late when we camped, but my -partner was in better spirits than he had been -at noon when we held the above conversation, -for we had done, by dint of forced -marching, quite as much as we did in fine -weather. But the ponies were very tired, -and there was nothing for them to eat, or -next to nothing, for the grass was deeply -buried. I gave Dick a little bread, however, -and the poor animal was grateful for it, and -stood by me all night, until, at the earliest -dawn, we packed them again with a load that -was lighter by the day's food of two men, -and heavier to them by a day's hard toil and -starvation. -</p> - -<p> -Toward the afternoon of that, the second -day, we came to the hardest part of the whole -trail, for, on crossing a river which was -freezing cold, we had to climb the side of an -opposing mountain. Mac's pony traveled -well, and though he showed evident signs of -fatigue, he was in much better case than -mine, who every now and again staggered, or -sobbed audibly with a long-drawn breath. I -drew Mac's attention to it, but he shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"He must go on, there's no two ways about -it." And he marched off. I went behind -Dick and pushed him for a while, and though -I tired myself, yet I am not sorry for what I -did, even that little assistance was such a -relief to the poor wretched animal who, from -the time he was able to bear a weight, had -been used by a packer without rest or peace, -as though he were a machine, and whose only -hope of release was to die, starved, wounded, -saddle and girth galled, of slow starvation at -last. Such is the lot of the pack horse, and, -though poor Dick's end was more merciful, -his fellows have no better fate to expect, -while their life is a perpetual round of -ill-usage and hard work. -</p> - -<p> -By about four o'clock in the afternoon the -sky grew overcast, and the light feathery -flakes of snow came at first slowly, and then -faster, turning what blue distances we caught -sight of to a gray, finally hiding them. Dick -by this time was almost at a standstill. I -never thought I was a very tender-hearted -man, and never set up to be; indeed, if he -had been only stubborn, I might have -thrashed him in a way some folks would -call cruel; and yet, being compelled to urge -him, both for his sake and my own, I -confess my heart bled to see his suffering and -wretchedness. Having scarcely the strength -to lift his feet properly, he had struck his -fetlocks against many projecting stones and -roots until the blood ran down and congealed -on his little hoofs, which were growing -tender, as I could see by the way he winced -on a rockier piece of the trail than common. -His rough coat was standing up and -staring like that of a broken-haired terrier, -in spite of the sweat which ran down his -thin sides and heaving flanks; while every -now and again he stumbled, and with difficulty -recovered himself. -</p> - -<p> -When we came to the divide, just as if -he had said that he would do so much for -us, he stumbled again, and fell on the level -ground, cutting his knees deeply. Mac heard -the noise, and, leaving his pony standing, he -came back to me. -</p> - -<p> -"He's done up, poor devil!" said he; -"he'll go no further. What shall we do?" -</p> - -<p> -I shook my head, for it was not I who -arranged or ordered things when Mac was -about. He was silent for a while. -</p> - -<p> -"There's nothing for it," he said at last, -"but one thing. We must put all the other -kieutan can stand on him." -</p> - -<p> -By this time I had got the pack off Dick, -and he lay down perfectly flat upon his side, -with the blood slowly oozing from his knees, -and his flanks still heaving from the -exertions which had brought him up the hill to -die on the top of it. -</p> - -<p> -"Come on," said Mac, as he moved off with -what he meant to put on the other pony. -</p> - -<p> -But at first I could not go. I put my hand -in my pocket, took out a piece of bread, and, -kneeling down by the poor animal, I put it to -his lips. He mumbled it with his teeth and -dropped it out. Then in my hat I got some -water out of a little pool and offered it to -him. He drank some and then fell back -again. I took my revolver from my belt, -stroked his soft nose once more, and, putting -the weapon to his head between his eye and -ear, I fired. He shivered all over, stiffened a -little, and all was still except for the slow -drip of the blood that ran out of his ear from -a vein the ball had divided. Then I went -on—and I hope no one will think me weak -if I confess my sight was not quite so clear -as it had been before, and if there was a -strange haziness about the cruelly cold trail -and mountain side that did not come from -the falling snow. -</p> - -<p> -At our camp that night we spoke little -more than was absolutely necessary, and -turned in as soon as we had eaten supper, -drunk a tin of coffee, and smoked a couple of -pipes. Fortunately for the remaining horse, -in the place we had reached there was a little -feed, a few tussocks of withering frost-nipped -bunch grass, which he ate greedily to the last -roots his sharp teeth could reach. And then -he pawed or "rustled" for more, using his -hoof to bare what was hidden under the -snow. But for that we should have left him -on the trail next morning. -</p> - -<p> -The toil and suffering of the third day's -march were dreadful, for I grew footsore, and -my feet bled at the heels, while the skin rose -in blisters on every toe, which rapidly -became raw. But Mac was a man of iron, and -never faltered or grew tired; and his -example, and a feeling of shame at being -outdone by another, kept me doggedly behind -him at a few paces' distance. How the pony -stood that day was a miracle, for he must -have been made of iron and not flesh and -blood to carry his pack, while climbing up -and sliding down the steep ascents and slopes -of the hills, while every few yards some -wind-felled tree had to be clambered over -almost as a dog would do it. He was always -clammy with sweat, but he seemed in better -condition than on the second day, perhaps on -account of the grass he had been able to get -during the night. Yet he had had to work -all night to get it, while I and Mac had slept -in the torpor of great exhaustion. -</p> - -<p> -Late in the evening we came to the banks -of the Columbia, across which stretched sandy -flats and belts of scrub, until the level ended, -and lofty mountains rose once more, covered -with snow and fringed with sullen clouds, -thousands of feet above where we stood. -Mac stopped, and looked anxiously across the -broad stream; and when he saw a faint curl -of bluish smoke rising a mile away in the -sunless air, he pointed to it with a more -pleased expression that I had seen on his face -since he had roused me so hurriedly on that -snowy morning three days ago. -</p> - -<p> -"There is somebody over there, at any -rate, old man," he said almost cheerfully, -"though I don't know what the thunder -they're doing here, unless it's Montana Bill -come up trapping. He said he was going to -do it, but if so, what's he doing down here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Can't he trap here, then?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," replied Mac, "this might be the -end of his line; but still, he ought to be -farther up in the hills. There isn't much -to trap close down on this flat. You see -trappers usually have two camps, and they -walk the line during the day, and take out -what is caught in the night, setting the -traps again, and sleeping first at one end and -then at the other. However, we shall see -when we get across." And he set about -lighting a fire. -</p> - -<p> -When we had crossed before there had -been a rough kind of boat built out of pine -slabs, which was as crazy a craft to go in as -a butter-tub. It had been made by some -hunters the winter before, and left there -when they went west in the early spring, -before we came up. I asked Mac what had -become of it, for it was not where we had -left it, hauled up a little way on a piece of -shingle and tied to a stump. -</p> - -<p> -"Somebody took it," he said, "or more -likely, when the water rose after we crossed, -it was carried away. Perhaps it's in the -Pacific by this." -</p> - -<p> -I went down to the stump, and found -there the remains of the painter, and as it -had been broken violently and not cut, I -saw that his last suggestion was probably -correct. -</p> - -<p> -We sat down to supper by our fire, which -gleamed brightly in the gathering darkness -on the surrounding snow and the waters -close beneath us, and ate some very vile -bacon and a greasy mess of beans which we -had cooked the night before we left our -mountain camp. -</p> - -<p> -"How are we going to cross, Mac?" said -I, when we had lighted our pipes. -</p> - -<p> -"Build a raft," said he. -</p> - -<p> -"And then?" -</p> - -<p> -"When we are over?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, stay there, I guess, if it snows any -more. One more fall of heavy snow will -block Eagle Pass as sure as fire's hot!" -</p> - -<p> -I shrugged my shoulders. Though I had -been expecting this, it was not pleasant to -have the prospect of spending a whole winter -mewed up in the mountains, so close before me. -</p> - -<p> -"Does it get very cold here?" I asked at -length, when I had reflected for a while. -</p> - -<p> -He nodded sardonically. -</p> - -<p> -"Does it get cold? Is it cold now?" -</p> - -<p> -I drew closer to the fire for an answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Then this is nothin'—nothin' at all. It -would freeze the tail off a brass monkey up -here. It goes more than forty below zero -often and often; and it's a worse kind of cold -than the cold back east, for it's damper here, -and not so steady. Bah! I wish I was a -bear, so as to hole up till spring." -</p> - -<p> -All of which was very encouraging to a -man who had mostly sailed in warm latitudes, -and hated a frost worse than poison. And -it didn't please me to see that so good-tempered -a man as Mac was really put out and -in a vile humor, for he knew what I could -only imagine. -</p> - -<p> -The conversation—if conversation it could -be called—flagged very soon, and we got out -our blankets, scraping away the snow from -a place, where we lay close to each other in -order to preserve what warmth we could. -We lay in the position commonly called in -America "spooning," like two spoons fitting -one into another, so that there had to be -common consent for changing sides, one of -which grew damp while the other grew cold. -Just as we were settling down to sleep we -heard the sudden crack of a rifle from the -other shore, and against the wind came a -"halloa" across the water, Mac sat up very -unconcernedly; but, as for me, I jumped as -if I had been shot, thinking of course at first -that the shot had been fired by Indians, -though I knew there were no hostile tribes -in that part of British Columbia, where, -indeed, most of the Indians are very peaceable. -</p> - -<p> -"I told you so," said Mac; "that's Montana -Bill's rifle. I sold it him myself. He's -the only man up here that carries a Sharp." -</p> - -<p> -He rose, and went down to the water's -edge. "Halloa!" he shouted, in his turn, -and in the quietness of the windless air I -heard it faintly repeated in distant echoes. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, Mac?" said the mysterious voice. -</p> - -<p> -"You bet it is!" answered my partner, -in a tone that ought to have been heard on -the Arrow Lake. -</p> - -<p> -"Bully old boy!" said Bill faintly, as it -seemed. "Do you know me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aye, I reckon I know old Montana's -bellow!" roared Mac. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I'll see you in the morning, pard!" -came the voice again, after which there was -silence, broken only by the faint lap of the -water on the shingle, as it slipped past, and -the snort of our pony as he blew the snow -out of his nostrils, vainly seeking for a tuft -of grass. -</p> - -<p> -We rose at earliest dawn, and saw Montana -Bill slowly coming over the level. He -sat down while Mac and I built a raft, and -fashioned a couple of rude paddles with the ax. -</p> - -<p> -"Is the pony coming across, Mac?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"We'll try it, but it's his own lookout," -said he; "if he won't come easy we shan't -drag him, for we shall hev to paddle to do it -ourselves." -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately for him he did want to go -over, and, having a long lariat round his neck, -he actually swam in front of us, and gave us -a tow instead of our giving him one. -</p> - -<p> -As we were going over, Mac said to me: -</p> - -<p> -"I never thought I'd be glad to see Montana -Bill before. He's got more gas and -blow about him than'd set up a town, and -he's no more good at bottom—that is, he -aint no more grit in him than a clay bank, -though to hear him talk you'd think he'd -mor'n a forty-two inch grindstone. But I -hope he's got a good stock of grub." -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes we touched bottom, and -we shook hands with the subject of Mac's -eulogium, who looked as bold as brass, as -fierce as a turkeycock, and had the voice of -a man-o'-war's bo'son. We took the lariat -off the pony, and turned him adrift. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you fellows strike it?" said Bill, the -first thing. -</p> - -<p> -"Enough to pay for our winter's board, I -reckon," said Mac. "Have you got plenty -of grub?" -</p> - -<p> -Bill nodded, using the common American -word for yes, which is a kind of cross-breed -between "yea" and the German "Ja," -pronounced short like "ye." -</p> - -<p> -"You bet I've plenty. Old Hank kem -up with me, and then he cleared out again. -He and I kind of disagreed first thing, and -he just skinned out. Good thing too—for him!" -</p> - -<p> -And Bill looked unutterable things. -</p> - -<p> -"Is there any chance of getting out over -the pass?" asked Mac. -</p> - -<p> -"If you can fly," answered Bill. "Drifts -is forty foot deep in parts, and soft too. I -could hardly get on snow-shoein' it. Better -stay and trap with me. Better'n gold-huntin' -any time, and more dollars in it." -</p> - -<p> -"Why aint you farther up in the hills?" -asked Mac, as we tramped along. -</p> - -<p> -"Dunno," said Bill; "I allers camp here -every year. It's kind of clear, and there's a -chance for the cayuses to pick a bit to keep -bones and hide together. Besides, I feel -more freer down here. I see more than 'ull -do me of the hills walking the line." -</p> - -<p> -And with that we came to his camp. -</p> - -<p> -Now, if I tell all that happened during -that winter, which was, all round, the most -uncomfortable and most unhappy one I ever -spent, for I had so much time to think of -Elsie, and how some other man more to her -mind might go to windward of me in -courting her—why, I should not write one book, -but two, which is not my intention now. -Besides, I have been long enough coming to -the most serious part of my history to tire -other people, as it has tired me; although -I could not exactly help it, because all, or at -least nearly all, that happened between the -time I was on the <i>Vancouver</i> and the time we -all met again seems important to me, especially -as it might have gone very differently if I had -never been gold-hunting in the Selkirks, or -even if I had got out of the mountains in the -fall instead of the following spring. For -things seem linked together in life, and, in -writing, one must put everything in unless -more particular description becomes tedious, -because of its interfering with the story. -And though trapping is interesting enough, -yet I am not writing here about that or hunting, -which is more interesting still; and when -a man tells me a yarn he says is about a -certain thing, I don't want him to break off in -the middle to say something quite different, -any more than I like a man to get up in -the middle of a job of work, such as a long -splice which is wanted, to do something he -wasn't ordered to do. It's only a way of -doing a literary Tom Cox's traverse, "three -times round the deck house, and once to -the scuttle-butt"—just putting in time, or -making what a literary friend of mine calls -"padding." -</p> - -<p> -So folks who read this can understand -why I shall say nothing of this long and -weary winter, and, if they prefer it, they can -think that we "holed up," as Mac said, like -the bears, and slept through it all. For in -the next part of this yarn it will be spring, -with the snow melting fast, and the trail -beginning to look like a path again that even a -sailor, who was not a mountaineer, could -hope to travel on without losing his life, or -even his way. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART IV. -<br /><br /> -LOVE AND HATE. -</h3> - -<p> -It had been raining for a week in an -incessant torrent, while the heavy clouds hung -low down the slopes of the sullen, sunless -mountains, when we struck camp in the -spring-time, and loaded our gaunt -pack-ponies for the rapidly opening trail. Our -road lay for some twenty miles on the -bottom of a flat, which closed in more and -more as we went east, until we were in the -heart of the Gold Range. The path was -liquid mud, in which we sank to the tops of -our long boots, sometimes even leaving them -embedded there; and the ponies were nearly -"sloughed down" a dozen times in the day. -At the worst places we were sometimes -compelled to take off their packs, which we -carried piecemeal to firmer ground, and there -loaded them again. It had taken us but -four or four and a half days to cross it on -our last trip, and now we barely reached -Summit Lake in the same time. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, in spite of the miserable weather and -our dank and dripping condition, in spite of -the hard work and harder idleness, when -wind and rain made it almost impossible to -sleep, I was happy—far happier than I had -been since the time I had so miserably failed -to make Elsie believe what I told her; for -now I was going back to her with the results -of my long toil, and there was nothing to -prevent my staying near her, perhaps on a -farm of my own, until she should recognize -her error at last. Yet, I thought it well to -waste no time, for though I had to a -great extent got rid of my fears concerning -that wretched Matthias, still his imprisonment -had but a few more months to run, and -he <i>might</i> keep his word and his sworn oath. -I wished to win her and wear her before that -time, and after that, why, I did not care, I -would do my best, and trust in Providence, -even if I trusted in vain. -</p> - -<p> -I have often thought since that it was -strange how much John Harmer was in my -mind, from daylight even to dark, during the -sixth day of our toilsome tramp over Eagle -Pass, for his image often unaccountably came -before me, and even dispossessed the fair face -of her whom I loved. But it was so, and -no time during that day should I have been -very much surprised, though perhaps a little -angry, to see him come round a bend in the -trail, saying half humbly and half -impudently, as he approached me, "How do -you do, Mr. Ticehurst?" I almost began to -believe after that day in second sight, -clairvoyance, and all the other mysterious things -which most sensible people look upon as -they do on charlatanry and the juggling in a -fair, for my presentiments came true in such -a strange way; even if it was only an accident -or mere coincidence after all. Yet I have -seen many things put down as "coincidences" -which puzzled me, and wiser people -than Tom Ticehurst. -</p> - -<p> -We had camped in a wretchedly miserable -spot, which had nothing to recommend it -beyond the fact that there really was some -grass there; for the wall of rock on our -right, which both Mac and Bill considered a -protection from the wind, acted as break-winds -often do, and gave us two gales in -opposite directions, instead of one. So the -wind, instead of sweeping over us and going -on its way, fought and contended over our -heads, and only ceased for a moment to rush -skrieking again about our ears as it leapt on -the fire and sent the embers here and there, -while the rain descended at every possible -angle. Perhaps it was on account of the -fizzing of the water in the fire, the rattle -of the branches overhead, and the whistling -of the wind, that we heard no one approaching -our grumbling company until they were -right upon us. I was just then half a dozen -paces out in the darkness, cutting up some -wood for our fire, and as the strangers -approached the light, I let fall my ax so -that it narrowly escaped cutting off my big -toe, for one of the two I saw was a boy, -and that boy John Harmer! I slouched my -big hat down over my eyes, and with some -wood in my arms I approached the group -and replenished the fire. John was talking -with quite a Western twang, as though -he was determined not to be taken for an -Englishman. -</p> - -<p> -"Rain!" he was saying; "well, you bet -it's something like it! On the lake it takes -an old hand to know which is land and -which is water. Old Hank was nearly -drowned in his tent the other day." -</p> - -<p> -"Serve him right!" growled Bill. "But -who are you, young feller?—I never see you -before, and I mostly know everybody in this -country." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer looked up coolly, and taking off -his hat, swung it round. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he answered, "I aint what you'd -call celebrated in B.C. yet, and so you -mightn't have heard of me. But if you -know everybody, perhaps you know Tom -Ticehurst and can tell me where he is to -be found. For I am looking for him." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you are, are you?" said Bill. -"Then what's he been doing that you want -him so bad as to come across in this trail this -weather?" -</p> - -<p> -"He hasn't been doing anything that I -know, pard," said Jack; "but I know he -was up here with a man named Mackintosh." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! I know him," replied Bill, "in fact, -I've seen him lately. Is Tom Ticehurst a -little chap with red hair and a squint?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, he isn't!" shouted Jack, as if he had -been libeled instead of me. "He's a good -looking fellow, big enough to eat you." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, is he?" sneered the joker. "I tell -you what, young feller, it would take a big -man to chew up Montana Bill's little finger." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer burst out laughing. -</p> - -<p> -"So you're Montana Bill, are you?" said he. -</p> - -<p> -"I am," answered Bill as gravely as if it -were a kingly title. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, old Hank said he could eat -you up without pepper or salt. He's as mad -at you as a man can be; says he's been -practicing shooting all the winter on purpose -to do you up, and he puts a new edge on his -knife every morning." -</p> - -<p> -"That'll do, young feller," put in Mac, -seeing that Bill was getting in a rage, and -knowing that he was just the man to have -a row with a youngster. "You're a little -too fast, you are. My name's Mackintosh, if -you want anyone of that name." -</p> - -<p> -"Do I want you!" cried Harmer anxiously; -"of course I do! Do you know where -Ticehurst is?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," replied Mac; while I stood close -beside Harmer looking down at the fire so -that he couldn't see my face—I was laughing so. -</p> - -<p> -"Then where is he? Hang it! has anything -happened to him that you fellows make -such a mystery about it?" he asked getting a -little alarmed, as I could tell by the tone of -his voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," replied Mac quietly, "I'll tell you. -He was up in the hills with me, and we -struck it rich—got a lot of gold, we did, you -bet we did," he went on in an irritating -drawl; "and then came down when the snow -flew. We had such a time getting out, young -feller, and then at last we came to the -Columbia and there——" -</p> - -<p> -"He was drowned?" said Harmer growing pale. -</p> - -<p> -"No, he warn't," replied Mac. "We got -across all right, and stayed all winter trapping -with Bill here. And let me tell you, young -man, you mustn't trifle with Bill. He's a -snorter, he is." -</p> - -<p> -I could see "Damn Bill!" almost on Jack's -lips, but he restrained it. -</p> - -<p> -"And when the Chinook came up, and the -snow began to melt a few days back, we all -got ready to cross the range—him, and Bill, -and me. That's six days ago. And a better -fellow than him you never struck, no, nor -will. What do you think, pard?" he asked -with a grin, turning to me. -</p> - -<p> -I grunted. -</p> - -<p> -"And, young feller," Mac went on again, -"if he's a pardner of yours, or a shipmate—for -I can see you're an Englishman—why, I'm -glad he's here and safe." -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly altering his tone, he turned -fiercely on Harmer, who jumped back in alarm. -</p> - -<p> -"Why the thunder don't you shake -hands with him? There he is a-waitin'." -</p> - -<p> -And John sprang across the fire and caught -me by both hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Confound it, Mr. Ticehurst, how very -unkind of you!" he said, with tears in his -eyes. "I began to think you were dead." And -he looked unutterably relieved and -happy, but bursting with some news, I could see. -</p> - -<p> -"Wait till supper, Jack," said I; "and -then tell me. But I'm glad to see you." -</p> - -<p> -I was too, in spite of his leaving the Inlet -without asking me. -</p> - -<p> -As to the man with whom he came, Montana -Bill knew him, and they spent their -time in bullying the absent Hank Patterson. -It appeared that Harmer had hired him to -come and hunt for me as far as the Columbia -River, in order to bury me decently, as ne -had been firmly convinced that I was dead, -when he learnt no news of me at the Landing. -</p> - -<p> -The whole five of us sat down to beans -and bacon; but I and Harmer ate very little -because he wanted to tell me something -which I was strangely loth to hear, so sure -was I that it could be nothing good. It -certainly must be bad news to bring even an -impulsive youngster from the coast to the -Columbia in such weather. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what is it, Harmer?" said I at last. -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it anything about her?" I asked -quietly, lest the others should overhear. -</p> - -<p> -"Who? Miss F.?" he asked. I nodded, -and he shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"It's no such luck," he went on; "but I -am so doubtful of what I have to tell you, -although a few hours ago I was sure enough -that I didn't know how to begin. When -Mat's sentence be up, Mr. Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -I had no need to reckon. -</p> - -<p> -"The 15th of August, Jack." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me, and then bent over -toward me. -</p> - -<p> -"It's up already, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"What, is he dead, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir, but he has escaped." -</p> - -<p> -And he filled his pipe while I gathered -myself together. It was dreadfully -unfortunate if it were true. -</p> - -<p> -"How do you know this?" I said at length, -</p> - -<p> -"I saw him in New Westminster one night." -</p> - -<p> -"The deuce you did! Harmer, are you sure?" -</p> - -<p> -The lad looked uncomfortable, and wriggled -about on his seat, which was the old stump -of a tree felled by some former occupants of -our camping ground. -</p> - -<p> -"I should have been perfectly sure, if I -hadn't thought he was in the penitentiary," -he said finally; "but still, I don't think I -can have mistaken his face, even though I -only caught sight of it just for a moment -down in the Indian town. I was sitting in -a cabin with two other fellows and some -klootchmen, and I saw him pass. There was -not much light, and he was going quick, but -I jumped up and rushed out after him. But -in the rain and darkness he got away, if he -thought anyone was following him; or I -missed him." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad you did, my boy; he would -have thought little of putting his knife into -you," and here I rubbed my own shoulder -mechanically. "Besides, if he had seen you, -that would have helped him to track me. -But then, how in the name of thunder (as -Mac says) did he come here at all! It can't -be chance. Did you look up the San Francisco -papers to see if anything was reported -as to his escape?" -</p> - -<p> -Harmer brightened as if glad to answer -that he had done what I considered he ought -to have done. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, I did; but I found nothing -about it, nothing at all." -</p> - -<p> -I reflected a little, and saw nothing clearly, -after all, but the imperative necessity of my -getting down to the Forks. If Mat were -loose, why, I should have to be very careful, -it was true; but perhaps he might be retaken, -though I did not know if a man could -be extradited for simply breaking prison. -And if he came up country, and couldn't -find me, he might take it into his Oriental -skull to harm anyone I knew. The thought -made me shiver. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you stay at Thomson Forks, -Harmer?" I asked, to try and turn the dark -current of my thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -He blushed a little. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, but only a day. I saw no one, -though." -</p> - -<p> -"What, not even Fanny?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, but I wrote to her and told her I -was going up the Lakes to see what had -become of you." -</p> - -<p> -"That was kind of you, Jack," said I; "I -mean it was kind of you to come up here. -How do you like the country, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -He turned round comically, shrugged his -shoulders, and said nothing. I could see -that early spring in the mountains did not -please him, especially as we were in the Wet -Belt. -</p> - -<p> -But if he did not like the country, I found -he could stand it well, for he was as hardy -as a pack pony, and never complained, not -though we were delayed a whole day by the -rain, and on our return to the Landing had -to go to Thomson Forks in Indian dugouts. -When we did arrive there it was fine at last, -and the sun was shining brilliantly. -</p> - -<p> -Mac, Harmer, and I were greeted in the -friendliest manner at the hotel by Dave, the -bar-tender, who was resplendent with a white -shirt of the very finest get up, and diamond -studs. He stood us drinks at once. -</p> - -<p> -"You're welcome to it, gentlemen, and -more too. For we did think down here that -you had been lost in the snow. We never -expected to hear of you again. I think a -young lady round here must have an interest -in you, Mr. Ticehurst," said he knowingly, -"for only two days ago she called me out -and asked more than particularly about you. -When I told her nobody knew enough to -make a line in 'Local Items,' unless they -said, 'Nothing has yet been heard,' I reckon -she was sorry." -</p> - -<p> -"Who was it, Dave?" I asked carelessly -"Was it Miss Fanny Fleming?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir, it was not; it was Miss Fleming -herself, and I must say she's a daisy. The -best looking girl between the Rocky -Mountains and the Pacific, gentlemen! Miss -Fanny is nice—a pretty girl I will say; -but——" He stopped and winked, so that I -could hardly keep from throwing my glass at -his carefully combed and oiled head. But I -was happy to think that Elsie had asked -after me. -</p> - -<p> -In the morning we got horses from Ned -Conlan, and rode over to Mr. Fleming's ranch, -which was situated in a long low valley, -that terminated a mile above his house in a -narrow gulch, down which the creek came. -On either side were high hills, covered on -their lower slopes with bunch grass and bull -pines, and higher up with thick scrub, that -ran at last into bare rock, on the topmost -peaks of which snow lay for nine months of -the year. As we approached the farm, we -saw a few of the cattle on the opposing -slopes; and on the near side of the valley -were the farm-buildings and the house itself, -which was partly hidden in trees. We tied -our horses to the fence, and marched in, as we -fancied, as bold as brass in appearance; but -if Harmer felt half as uncomfortable as I did, -which I doubt, I am sorry for him. The -first person we saw was Fanny, and the first -thing she did was to upset her chair on the -veranda on the top of a sleeping dog, who -at first howled, and then made a rush at us -barking loudly. -</p> - -<p> -"Down, Di!" cried Fanny. "How dare -you! O Mr. Ticehurst, how glad I am -you're not dead! And you, too, Mr. Harmer, -though no one said you were! Oh, where's -father, I wonder—he'll be glad, too!" -</p> - -<p> -"And Elsie, will she be glad as well, -Fanny?" I asked. She looked at me slyly, -and nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"You'd better ask her, I think. Here -comes father." -</p> - -<p> -He rode up on horseback, followed by -Siwash Jim, swinging the noose of a lariat in -his right hand, as though he had been after -horses or cattle. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it's you, Tom, is it?" said Fleming, -who was looking very well. "I'm glad -you're not quite so dead as I was told. And -you, Harmer, how are you? Jim, take these -gentlemen's horses to the stable. You've -come to stay for dinner, of course. I shan't -let you go. I heard you did very well -gold-gambling last fall. Come in!" For that -news went down the country when we went -to the Landing for grub. -</p> - -<p> -I followed, wondering a little whether -he would have been quite so effusive if I -had done badly. But I soon forgot that -when I saw Elsie, who had just come out of -her room. I thought, when I saw her, that -she was a little paler than when we had last -met, though perhaps that was due to the -unaccustomed cold and the sunless winter; -but she more than ever merited the rough -tribute which Dave had paid her in Conlan's -bar. She was very beautiful to them; but -how much more to me, as she came up, a little -shyly, and shook hands softly, saying that -she was glad that the bad news they had -heard of me was not true. I fancied that she -had thought of me often during that winter, -and perhaps had seen she had been unjust. -At any rate, there was a great difference -between what she was then and what she was now. -</p> - -<p> -We talked during dinner about the winter, -which the three Australians almost cursed; -in fact, the father did curse it very admirably, -while Elsie hardly reproved his strong -language, so much did she feel that forty -degrees below zero merited all the opprobrium -that could be cast on it. I described -our gold-mining adventures and the -winter's trapping, which, by the way, had -added five hundred dollars to my other money. -</p> - -<p> -I told Fleming that I was now worth, with -some I still had at home, more than five -thousand dollars, and I could see it gave him -satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think of the country now, -Mr. Fleming?" I asked; "and how long -shall you stay here?" -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, my boy," he answered; "I -think, in spite of the cold, we shall have to -stand another winter here. This summer I -must rebuild the barns and stables; there -are still a lot of cattle adrift somewhere; -and I won't sell out under a certain sum. -That's business, you know; and I have just a -little about me, though I am an old fool at -times, when the girls want their own way." -</p> - -<p> -"What would you advise me to do?" said -I, hoping he would give me some advice -which I could flatter him by taking. "You -see, when one has so much money, it is only -the correct thing to make more of it. The -question is how to do it." -</p> - -<p> -"That's quite right, Ticehurst—quite -right!" said he energetically. "I'm glad -you talk like that; your head's screwed on -right; you will be well in yet" (an -Australian phrase for our "well off"), "I'll bet on -that. Well, you can open a store, or go -lumbering, or gold-mining, or hunting, or raise -cattle, like me." -</p> - -<p> -I pretended to reflect, though I nearly -laughed at catching Harmer's eye, for he -knew quite well what I wanted to do. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Mr. Fleming, you're right. That's -nearly all one can do. But as to keeping a -store, you see, I've been so accustomed to an -open-air life, I don't think it would suit me. -Besides, a big man like me ought to do -something else than sell trousers! As to -gold-mining, I've done that, and been lucky once, -which, in such a gambling game, is against -me. And hunting or trapping—well, there's -nothing great in that. I think I should -prefer cattle-raising, if I could do it. I was -brought up on a farm in England, and why -shouldn't I die on one in British Columbia, -or" (and I looked at Elsie) "in Australia?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite right, Tom," said Fanny, laughing, -for she was too cute to miss seeing what I meant. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Fleming looked at me approvingly. -</p> - -<p> -"You'll die worth a lot yet, Tom Ticehurst. -I like your spirit. I was just the -same once. Now, I'll tell you what. Did -you ever see George Nettlebury at the Forks?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," I replied, "not that I know of." -</p> - -<p> -"I dare say you have," said he; "he's -mostly drunk; and Indian Alice, who is -always with him, usually has a black eye, as -a gentle reminder that she belongs to an -inferior race, if she is his wife. Now, he -lives about two miles from here, over -yonder" (he pointed over the valley). "He -has a house—a very dirty one now, it is true; -a stable, and a piece of meadow, fenced in, -where he could raise good hay if he would -mend the fence and keep other folks' cattle -out. He told me the other day that he was -sick to death of this place, and he wants just -enough to go East with, and return to his -old trade of shipbuilding. He says he will -take $300 for the whole place, with -what is on it. That don't amount to much—two -cows, one old steer, and a cayuse he -rides round on. If you like, we'll go over -and see him. You can buy it, and buy some -more cattle, and if you have more next -winter than you can feed, I'll let you have -the hay cheap. What do you say?" -</p> - -<p> -My heart leapt up, but I pretended I -wanted time to think about it. -</p> - -<p> -"Then let's ride over now, and you can -look at the place," said he; rising. -</p> - -<p> -Harmer would not come, so I left him -with the sisters. When we returned I was -the owner of the house, stable, two cows, -etc., and George Nettlebury was fighting -with Indian Alice, to whom he had -announced his intention of going East at once, -and without her. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm tired of this life; it's quite -disgusting!" said George, as we departed. "I'm -glad you came, Mr. Ticehurst, for I'm off too -quick." -</p> - -<p> -As we rode back to Thomson Forks, Harmer -asked pathetically what he was to do. -</p> - -<p> -"We must see, Jack," I answered kindly. -"We'll get you something in town." -</p> - -<p> -"I'd rather be with you," he answered -dolorously. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you can't yet, that's certain," said I. -"I can't afford to pay you wages, when there -will be no more than I can get through -myself; when there is, I'll let you know. -In the meantime you must make money, -Jack. There's a sawmill in town. I know -the man that runs it—Bill Custer, and I'll -go and see him for you." -</p> - -<p> -Jack sighed, and we rode on in silence -until we reached the Forks. -</p> - -<p> -After we had had supper Jack and I were -standing in the barroom, not near the stove, -which was surrounded by a small crowd of -men, who smoked and chewed and chattered, -but close by the door for the sake of the -fresher air, when we saw Siwash Jim ride -up. After tying his horse to the rail in -front of the house, to which half a dozen -other animals in various stages of equine -despondency or irritation were already -attached, he swaggered into the bar, -brushing against me rather rudely as he -did so. Harmer's eyes flashed with indignation, -as if it was he who had been insulted. -But I am a very peaceable man, and don't -always fight at the first chance. Besides, -being so much bigger than Jim, I could, I -considered, afford to take no notice of what -an ill-conditioned little ruffian like that did -when he was probably drunk. Presently -Jack spoke to me. -</p> - -<p> -"That beastly fellow keeps looking at you, -Mr. Ticehurst, as if he would like to cut -your throat. What's wrong with him? Is -he jealous of you, do you think?" -</p> - -<p> -It was almost blasphemy to dream of such -a thing, and I looked at Mr. John Harmer -so sternly that he apologized; yet I believe -it must to some extent have been that which -caused the trouble that ensued almost -directly, and added afterward to the danger -in which I already stood. I turned round -and looked at Jim, who returned my glance -furiously. He ordered another drink, and -then another. It seemed as if he was -desirous of making himself drunk. Presently -Dave, who was, as usual, behind the bar, -spoke to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Going back to the ranch to-night, Jim?" -</p> - -<p> -Jim struck the bar hard with his fist. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I'm not! Never, unless I go to set -the damned place on fire!" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, what's the matter?" asked Dave, -smiling, while Harmer and I pricked up our ears. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! I had some trouble with old Fleming -just now," said Jim, in a hoarse voice of -passion. "He's like the rest, wants too much; -the more one does, the more one may do. -He's a dirty coyote, and his girls are——" And -the gentle-minded Jim used an epithet -which made both our ears tingle. -</p> - -<p> -Jack made a spring, but I caught him by -the shoulder and sent him spinning back, and -walked up alongside the men. I saw my -own face in the glass at the back of the bar; -it was very white, and I could hardly recognize it. -</p> - -<p> -"Mind what you say, you infernal ruffian!" -I said, in a low voice, "or I'll break your neck -for you! Don't you dare to speak about -ladies, you dog, or I'll strangle you!" He -sprang back like lightning. If he had had a -six-shooter on him I think my story would -have ended here, for I had none myself. But -Jim had no weapon. Yet he was no coward, -and did not "take water," or "back down," -as they say there. He steadied himself one -moment, and then threw the water-bottle at -me with all his force. Though I ducked, -I did not quite escape it, for the handle -caught me on the forehead near the hair, and, -in breaking, cut a gash which sent the blood -down into my left eye. But I caught hold -of him before he could do anything else. -In a moment the room was in an uproar; -some of the men climbed on to the tables -in order to get a view, while those outside -crowded to the door. They roared, "Leave -'em alone!" when Dave attempted to -approach, and one big fellow caught hold -of Harmer and held him, saying at the same -time, as Jack told me afterward, "You stay -right here, sonny, and see 'em fight. Mebbe -you'll larn something!" -</p> - -<p> -I found Jim a much tougher customer than -I should have imagined, although I might -have handled him more easily if I had not -been for the time blind in one eye. But he -was like a bunch of muscle; his arms, though -slender, were as tough and hard as his -stock-whip handle, and his quickness was surprising. -He struck me once or twice as we grappled, -and then we fell, rolling over and over, and -scattering the onlookers, as we went, until we -came against the legs of the table, which gave -way and sent three men to the floor with a -shock that shook the house. Finally, Jim got -his hand in my hair and tried to gouge out -my eyes. Fortunately, it was not long enough -for him to get a good hold, but when I felt -his thumbs feeling for my eyes, all the -strength and rage I ever had seemed to come -to me, and I rose suddenly with him clinging -to me. For a moment we swayed about, and -then I caught his throat, pushed him at arm's -length from me, and, catching hold of his -belt, I threw him right over my head. I was -standing with my back to the door, and he -went through it, fell on the sidewalk, and -rolled off into the road, where he lay -insensible. -</p> - -<p> -"Very good!" said Dave; "very well -done indeed! Pick him up, some of you -fellows, and see if he's dead. The son of a -gun, I'll make him pay for that bottle, -and for the table! Come, have a drink, -Mr. Ticehurst. You look rather warm." -</p> - -<p> -I should think I did, besides being -smothered with blood and dust. I was glad -to accept his invitation. -</p> - -<p> -"Is he dead?" I asked of Harmer, who -came in just then. -</p> - -<p> -"Not he," said Jack, "he's coming to -already, but I guess he'll fight no more for a -few days. That must have been a sickener. -By Jove! how strong you must be—he went -out of the door like a stone out of a sling. -Lucky he didn't hit the post." And Harmer -chuckled loudly, and then went off with me -to wash away the blood, and bandage the -cut in my forehead. -</p> - -<p> -When I left town in the morning I heard -that Jim was still in bed and likely to stay -there for some time. And Harmer, who was -going to work with Bill Custer, promised to -let me know if he heard anything which was -of importance to me. -</p> - -<p> -On my way out to my new property I met -its late owner and his Indian wife in their -ricketty wagon, drawn by the horse I had not -thought worth buying. Nettlebury was -more than half drunk, although it was early -in the morning, and when he saw me coming -he rose up, waved his hand to me, bellowed, -"I'm a-goin' East, I am!" and, falling over -the seat backward, disappeared from view. -Alice reached out her hand and helped -her husband to regain his former position. -I came up alongside and reined in my horse. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me. -</p> - -<p> -"Been fightin' already, hev you; or did you -get chucked off? More likely you got -chucked—it takes an American to ride these -cay uses!" said he half scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said I, "I wasn't chucked, and I -have been fighting. Did you hear why -Siwash Jim left Fleming!" -</p> - -<p> -"No, not exactly," he returned; "but he -was sassy with Miss Elsie, and—oh, I -dunno—but you hev been fightin', eh? Did you -lick him—and who was it?" -</p> - -<p> -"The man himself, Mr. Nettlebury," said -I—"Jim; and I reckon I did whip him." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Good on you, old man! He's been -wanting it this long while past; but look -out he don't put a knife in your ribs. Now -then," said he ferociously, turning to his wife, -"why don't you drive on? Here, catch -hold!" and giving her the reins, he lifted his -hand to strike her. But just then the old -horse started up, he fell over the seat again, -and lay there on a pile of sacking. I hardly -thought he would get East with his money, -and I was right, for I hired him to work for -me soon afterward. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to the Flemings' there was -no one about but the old man. -</p> - -<p> -"Busy!" said he, "you may bet I'm busy. -I sent that black ruffian off yesterday, and -I've got no one to help me. What's the -matter with your head?" -</p> - -<p> -When I told him, he laughed heartily, and -then shook my hand. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad you thrashed him, Tom," said -he; "I'd have done it myself yesterday if I -had been ten years younger. When Elsie -wanted him to get some water, he growled -and said all klootchmen, as he calls -'em—women, you know—were alike, Indian or -white, and no good. I told him to get out. -Is he badly hurt?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not very," I answered. -</p> - -<p> -"I hoped he was," said the old man. "It's -a pity you didn't break his neck! I would -as soon trust a black snake! Are you going -over yonder?" -</p> - -<p> -"I guess so," I answered; "I must get -the place cleaned up a bit—it's like a pigsty, -or what they call a hog-pen in this country," -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I guess it is," he replied; "but -come over in the evening, if you like." -</p> - -<p> -I thanked him and rode off, happy in one -thing at least—I was near Elsie. I felt as if -Harmer's suspicions about Mat were a mere -chimera, and that the lad in some excitement -had mistaken the dark face of some harmless -Indian for that of the revengeful Malay. -And as to Siwash Jim, why, I shrugged my -shoulders; I did not suppose he was so -murderously inclined as Nettlebury imagined. -It would be hard lines on me to have two -men so ill disposed toward me, through -no fault of my own, as to wish to kill me. -</p> - -<p> -I went back to the Flemings' after a hard -day's work, in which I burnt, or otherwise -disposed of, an almost unparalleled collection -of rubbish, including old crockery and -bottles, dirty shirts and worn-out boots, -which had been accumulating indoors and -out for some ten years. After being nearly -smothered, I was glad to go down to the -creek and take a bath in the clear, cold water -which ran into the main watercourse issuing, -some two miles away, from the Black Cañon -at the back of the valley, concerning which -Fleming had once spoken to me. That -evening at his ranch was the pleasantest I -ever spent in my life up to that time, in spite -of the black cloud which hung over me, for -Fanny was as bright and happy as a bird, -while Elsie, who seemed to have come to her -senses, spoke almost freely, displaying no -more disinclination to me, even apparently, -than might naturally be set down to her -instinctive modesty, and her knowledge that -I was courting her, and desired to be -received as her lover. -</p> - -<p> -I spoke to her late that evening when -Fleming went out to throw down the night's -hay to his horses. For Fanny vanished -discreetly at the same moment, and continued -to make just enough noise in the kitchen to -assure us she was there, while it was not -sufficient to drown even the softest -conversation. Good girl she was, and is—I -love her yet, though—well, perhaps I had -better leave that unsaid at present. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie," I said, when we were alone, "do -you remember what I said when we parted -on the steamer?" -</p> - -<p> -She cast her eyes down, but did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you do, Elsie," I went on; "I said -I should never forget. Do you think I have? -Don't you know why I left my ship, why I -came to this country, why I went mining, and -why I have worked so hard and patiently for -long, long months without seeing you? Answer -me; do you know why?" -</p> - -<p> -She hesitated a moment, lifted up her blue -eyes, dropped them at the sight of the passion -in mine, and said gently, "I suppose so, -Mr. Ticehurst." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, you know, Elsie; it was that I -might be near you, that I might get rich -enough to be able to claim you. How -fortunate I have been in that! But am I -fortunate in other things, too, Elsie? Will you -answer me that, Elsie?" -</p> - -<p> -I approached her, but she held up her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Stay, Mr. Ticehurst!—if I must speak. -I may have judged you wrongly, but I am -not wholly sure that I have. If I have not, -I should only be preparing misery for myself -and for you, if I answered your questions as -you would have me. I want time, and I must -have it, or some other assurance; for how can -I wholly trust you when you will not speak -as you might do?" -</p> - -<p> -Ah! how could I? But this was -far better than I had expected—far better. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie," I answered quietly, "I am ready -to give you time, all the time you need to -prove me, and my love for you, though there -is no need. My heart is yours, and yours -only, ever from the time I saw you. I have -never even wavered in my faith and hope. -But I do not care so long as I may be near -you—so long as I may see you sometimes, -and speak to you. For without you I shall -be wretched, and would be glad even if that -wretched Malay were to kill me, as he threatened." -</p> - -<p> -I thought I was cunning to bring in Matthias, -and indeed she lifted her eyes then. -But she showed no signs of fear for me. -Perhaps she looked at me, saying to herself -there was no need of such a strong man being -afraid of such a visionary danger. She spoke -after a little silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Then let it be so, Mr. Ticehurst. If -what you say be true, there at least is nothing -for you to fear." -</p> - -<p> -She looked at me straight then with her -glorious blue eyes, and I would have given -worlds to catch her in my arms and press her -to my heart. She went on: -</p> - -<p> -"And if you never give me cause, why—" She -was silent, but held out her hand. -</p> - -<p> -I took it, pressed it, and would have raised -it to my lips, only she drew it gently away. -But I went to rest happy that night. Give -her cause!—indeed, what cause could I give -her? That is what I asked myself, without -knowing what was coming, without feeling -my ignorance, my blindness, and my helplessness -in the strange web of fate and fated -crime which was being woven around me—without -being conscious, as an animal is in -the prairie, of that storm, so ready to burst -on my head, whose first faint clouds had risen -on the horizon of my life, even before I had -seen her, in the very hour that I had joined -the <i>Vancouver</i> under my own brother's -command. I went to sleep, wondering vaguely -what had become of him. But we are blind, -all of us, and see nothing until the curtain -rises on act after act; being ignorant still, -whether the end shall be sweet or bitter to -us, whether it shall justify our smiles in -happiness, or our tears in some bitter -tragedy. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -For two days I worked in and about my -house, putting things in some order, and on -the third I rode over to the Flemings' early -in the morning, as it had been arranged that -I was to go out with Mr. Fleming to look -after some cattle of his, which a neighbor -had complained of. I never felt in better -spirits than when I rode over the short two -miles which separated us, for the morning -was calm and bright, with a touch of that -glorious freshness known only among mountains -or on high plateaus lifted up from the -common level of the under world. I even -sang softly to myself, for the black cloud of -doubt, which but a few days ago had -obscured all my light, was driven away by a -new dawning of hope, and I was content and -without fear. I shouted cheerfully for -Fleming as I rode up, and he came to the -door with his whip over his arm, followed by -the two girls. I alighted, and shook hands -all round. -</p> - -<p> -"Then you are ready, Mr. Fleming?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"When I have put the saddle on the black -horse," he replied, as he went toward the -stable, leaving me standing there, for I was -little inclined to offer to assist him while -Elsie remained outside the house. Fanny -was quite as mischievous as ever, and -whether her sister had told her anything of -what had passed between us two days before -or not, she was evidently conscious that the -relations between Elsie and myself had -somehow altered for the better. -</p> - -<p> -"How do you find yourself these days, -Tom?" she asked, with a merry twinkle in -her eye. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, Fanny," I answered. "Thanks -for your inquiry." -</p> - -<p> -"Does the climate suit you, then? Or is -it the surroundings?" -</p> - -<p> -"Both, my dear girl, as long as the sun -shines on us!" I replied, laughing, while -Elsie turned away with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -Fanny almost winked at me, and then -looked up the road toward Thomson Forks, -which ran close by the ranch and led toward -an Indian settlement on the Lake about ten -miles away. -</p> - -<p> -"There's someone coming," she said, "and -he's in a hurry. Isn't he galloping, Mr. Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -I looked up the road and saw somebody -who certainly was coming down the long -slope from the crest of the hill with more -than reasonable rapidity. I looked, and then -turned away carelessly. What was the horseman -to me? I leant against the post of the -veranda, which some former occupant of the -house had ornamented by whittling with his -knife, until it was almost too thin to do its -duty, and began to speak to Fanny again, -when I saw her blush and start. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," she said, "it's Mr. Harmer!" -</p> - -<p> -Then the horseman was something to me, -after all. For what but some urgent need -would bring Jack, who was entirely ignorant -of horses and riding, at that breakneck gallop -over the mountain road? My carelessness -went suddenly, and I felt my heart begin to -beat with unaccustomed violence. I turned -pale, I know, as I watched him coming -nearer. I was quite unconscious that Elsie -had rejoined her sister, and stood behind me. -</p> - -<p> -Harmer came closer and closer, and when -he saw us waved his hat. In a moment he -was at the gate, while I stood still at the -house, and did not move to go toward him. -He alighted, opened the gate, and, with his -bridle over his aim, came up to us. He said -good-morning to the girls hurriedly, and -turned to me. -</p> - -<p> -"You must come to Thomson Forks -directly, Mr. Ticehurst!" he said, gasping, -wiping his forehead with his sleeve. -"Something's happened, I don't know -what, and I can't tell; but she wants to see -you at once, and sent me off to fetch you—and -so I came, and, oh! how sore I am," and -he wriggled suggestively, and in a way that -would have been comic under other circumstances. -</p> - -<p> -I caught hold of his arm. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean," I roared, "you -young fool? What's happened, and who -wants to see me? Who's <i>she</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -He looked up in astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, didn't I say Mrs. Ticehurst, of course?" -</p> - -<p> -I let him go and fell against the post, -making it crack as I did so. I looked at -Elsie, and she was white and stern. But she -did not avoid my eye. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what is it—what's happened?" I -said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, I tell you, sir," said he -almost piteously; "all I know is that I was -sent for to the sawmill by Dave, and when I -came I saw Mrs. Ticehurst; and she's dressed -in black, sir, and she looked dreadfully bad, -and she just shook hands with me, and told -me to fetch you at once. And when I asked -what for, she just stamped, sir, and told me -to go. And so I came, and that's all!" -</p> - -<p> -Surely it was enough. Much as I liked -her, I would rather have met Mat or the very -devil in the way than had this happen now, -when things were going so well with me. -And in black?—good God! had anything -happened to my brother? I turned white, I -know, and almost fell. -</p> - -<p> -"You had better go at once, Tom," -laid Fanny, who held me by the arm. I -turned, I hardly know why, to her sister. -Her face was very pale, but her eyes -glittered, and she looked like marble. I know -my own asked hers a question, but I got no -response. I turned away toward my horse, -and then she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Ticehurst, let me speak to you one -moment. Fanny, go and talk to Mr. Harmer." -</p> - -<p> -And Fanny and I both obeyed her like children. -</p> - -<p> -She looked at me straight. -</p> - -<p> -"How could I prove you, Mr. Ticehurst," -she said, in a low voice, "was what I asked -the other night. Now the means are in my -power. What are you going to do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to the Forks," I said, in -bewilderment. Her eyes flashed, and she -looked at me scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Then go, but don't ever speak to me again! Go!" -</p> - -<p> -And she turned away. I caught her arm. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be unjust, Elsie!—don't be cruelly -unjust!" I cried. What a fool I was; I -knew she loved me, and yet I asked her -not to be cruel and unjust. Can a woman -or a man in love be anything else? -</p> - -<p> -"How can I stay away?" I asked -passionately, "when my brother's wife sends -for me? And she is in black—poor Will -must be dead!" -</p> - -<p> -If he was dead, then Helen was free. -I saw that and so did Elsie, and it hardened -her more than ever, for she did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Look then, Elsie, I am going, and you say -I shall not speak to you again. You are cruel, -very cruel—but I love you! And you shall -speak to me—aye, and one day ask my pardon -for doubting me. But even for you I cannot -refuse this request of my own sister-in-law—who -is ill, alone, in sorrow and trouble, in a -strange land. For the present, good-by!" -</p> - -<p> -I turned away, took my horse from the -fence, and rode off rapidly, without thinking -of Harmer, or of Fleming, who was standing -in amazement at his stable, as I saw when I -opened the swing-gate. And if Harmer had -come up at a gallop, I went at one, until my -horse was covered with sweat, and the foam, -flying from his champed bit, hung about my -knees like sea-foam that did not easily melt. -In half an hour I was at Conlan's door, and -was received by Dave. In two minutes I -stood in Helen's presence. -</p> - -<p> -When I saw her last she had that rich red -complexion which showed the pure color of -the blood through a delicate skin; her eyes -were piercing and perhaps a little hard, and -her figure was full and beautiful. She had -always rejoiced, too, in bright colors, such as -an Oriental might have chosen, and their -richness had suited her striking appearance. -But now she was woefully altered, and I -barely knew her. The color had deserted -her cheeks, which were wan and hollow; -her eyes were sunken and ringed with dark -circles, and her bust had fallen in until she -looked like the ghost of her former self, a -ghost that was but a mere vague memory -of her whom I had first known in Melbourne. -</p> - -<p> -Her dress, too, was black, which I knew -she hated, and in which she looked even less -like herself. Her voice, when she spoke, no -longer rang out with assurance, but faltered -ever and again with the tears that rose to her -eyes and checked her utterance. -</p> - -<p> -I took her hand, full of pity for her, and -dread of what she had to tell me, for it must -be something dreadful which had changed -her so much and brought her so far. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Helen?" I said, in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -"What did I come for, you mean, Tom?" -she asked, though desiring no answer. "I -came for your sake—and not for Will's. I -thought you might never get a letter, and I -wanted to see you once again. Ah! how -much I desired that. Tom, you are in -danger!" she spoke that suddenly—"in -danger every moment! For that man who -threatened your life——" -</p> - -<p> -I nodded, sucking my dry lips, for I knew -what she meant, and I was only afraid of -what else she had to tell me. -</p> - -<p> -"That man has escaped, and has not been -caught. O Tom, be careful—be careful! -If you were to die, too——" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, Helen?" I asked, -though I knew full well what she meant. -She looked at me. -</p> - -<p> -"Can't you think? Yes, you can perhaps -partly; but not all—not all the horror of it. -Tom, Will is dead! And not only that, but -he was murdered in San Francisco!" -</p> - -<p> -I staggered, and sat down staring at her. -She went on in a curiously constrained -voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; the very first night we came ashore, -and in our hotel! He was intoxicated, and -came in late, and I wouldn't have him in my -room. I made them put him in the next, and -I heard him shouting out of his window over -the veranda soon afterward, and then I fell -asleep. And in the morning I found him—I -myself found him dead in bed, struck right -through with a stab in the heart. And he -was robbed, too. Tom, it nearly killed me, -it was so horrible—oh, it was horrible! I -didn't know what to do. I was going to -send for you, and then I read in the paper -about Mat having escaped two days before, -so I came away at once." -</p> - -<p> -She ceased and sobbed violently; and I -kept silence. God alone knows what was in -my heart, and how it came there; but for a -moment—yes, and for more than that—I -suspected her, his wife, of my brother's -murder! I was blind enough, I suppose, and -so was she; but then so many times in life -we wonder suddenly at our want of sight -when the truth comes out. I remembered -she had once said she hated him, and could -kill him. And besides, she loved me. I -shivered and was still silent. She looked up -and caught my eye, which, I knew, was full -of doubt. She rose up suddenly, came to -me, fell on her knees, and cried: -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, Tom—not that! For God's -sake, don't look at me so!" -</p> - -<p> -And I knew she saw my very heart, and -I was ashamed of myself. I lifted her up -and put her on a chair. Heavens! how light -she was to what she had been, for her soul -had wasted her body away like a strong -wind fanning a fire. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor Will!" I said at last, and then I -asked if she had remained for the inquest. -No, she had not, she answered. I started at -her reply. If I could think what I had, -what might others not do? For her to -disappear like that after the murder of her -husband was enough to make people believe -her guilty of the crime, and I wondered that -she had not been prevented from leaving. -But on questioning her further, I learnt that -the police suspected a certain man who was -a frequenter of that very hotel; and, after -the manner of their kind, had got him in -custody, and were devoting all their -attention to proving him guilty of the crime, -whether there were <i>prima facie</i> proofs or -not. Still, it seemed bitter that poor Will -should be left to strangers while his wife -came to see me; and though she had done it -to save me, as she thought, yet, after all, the -danger was hardly such as to warrant her -acting as she had done. But I was not the -person to blame her. She had done it, poor -woman, because she yet loved me, as I knew -even then. But I saw, too, that it was love -without hope; and even if it had not been, -she must have learnt that I was near to -Elsie; and that I was "courting old -Fleming's gal" was the common talk whenever -my name was mentioned. I tried to convince -myself that she had most likely ceased -to think of me, and I preferred to believe it -was only the daily and hourly irritation of -poor Will's conduct which had driven her to -compare me with him to his disadvantage. -Well, whatever his faults were, they had been -bitterly expiated; as, indeed, such faults as -his usually are. It does not require statistics -to convince anyone who has seen much of -the world that most of the trouble in it -comes directly from drink. -</p> - -<p> -I was in a strange situation as I sat -reflecting. I suppose strict duty required me to -go to San Francisco, and yet Will would be -buried before I could get there. Then what -was I to do with his widow? She could not -stay there, I could not allow it, nor did I -think she desired it. Still she was not fit to -travel in her state of nervous exhaustion; -indeed, it was a marvel that she had been able -to come so far, even under the stimulus of -such unwonted excitement. I could not go -away with her even for a part of the return -journey, for I felt Elsie would be harder and -harder to manage the more she knew I saw -of Helen. I ended by coming to the -conclusion that she must stay at the Forks for -a while, and that I must go back and try -to have an explanation with Elsie. Helen -bowed her head in acquiescence when I told -her what she had better do, for the poor -woman was utterly broken down, and ready -to lean on any arm that was offered her; and -she, who had been so strong in her own will, -was at last content to be advised like an -obedient child. I left her with Mrs. Conlan, -to whom I told as much as I thought desirable, -and, kissing her on the forehead, I took -my horse and rode slowly toward home. -</p> - -<p> -As I left the town I saw Siwash Jim -sitting on the sidewalk, and he looked at -me with a face full of diabolical hatred. -When I got to the crest of the hill above the -town I turned in the saddle, and saw him -still gazing after me. -</p> - -<p> -When half-way home I met Harmer, who -was riding even slower than I, and sitting as -gingerly in the saddle as if he were very -uncomfortable, as I had no doubt he was. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Mr. Ticehurst," said he eagerly, -when we came near, "what was it?" -</p> - -<p> -I told him, and he looked puzzled. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he remarked at last, "it seems to -me I must have been mistaken after all, and -that I didn't see Mat when I thought I did. -Let me see, when did he escape?" -</p> - -<p> -I reckoned it up, and it was only twelve -days ago, for Helen had taken nine days -coming from San Francisco, according to what -she told me. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it is impossible for me to have seen -him in New Westminster," said Harmer. -"But it is very strange that I should have -imagined I did see him, and that he did -escape after all." -</p> - -<p> -Then I told him of my brother's death. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr. Ticehurst," he exclaimed, -"Matthias must have done it himself! He -must—don't you see he must?" -</p> - -<p> -The thought had not entered into my head. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said I; "I don't see it at all. -There's a man in custody for it now, and it is -hardly likely Mat would stay in San -Francisco, if he escaped, for two days. -Besides, it is even less likely that he would -fall across my brother the very first evening -he came ashore." -</p> - -<p> -Harmer shook his head obstinately. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall see, sir—we shall see. You -know he didn't like Captain Ticehurst much -better than you. Then, you say he was -robbed of his papers. Was your address -among them, do you think?" -</p> - -<p> -I started, for Jack's suspicion seemed -possible after all. The thing, looked more -likely than it had done at first sight. And -yet it was only my cowardice that made me -think so. I shook my head, but answered -"yes" to his question. -</p> - -<p> -"Then pray, Mr. Ticehurst, be careful," -said Jack earnestly, "and carry your revolver -always. Besides, that fellow Jim is about -again. You hardly hurt him at all; he must -be made of iron, and I heard last night he -threatened to have your life." -</p> - -<p> -"Threatened men live long, Jack," said -I. "I am not scared of him. That's only -talk and blow. I don't care much if Mat -doesn't get on my track. He would be -dangerous. Did you see Miss Fleming -before you left?" I said, turning the -conversation. -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. She had gone to her -room, and remained there when I went away. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Harmer, I shall be in town the day -after to-morrow," I said at last, "and if -anything happens, you can send me word; -and go and see Mrs. Ticehurst meanwhile." -</p> - -<p> -"I will do that," said he, "but to-morrow -morning I have to go up the lake to the -logging camp, and don't know when I shall -be back. That's what Custer said this -morning, when I asked him to let me come -over here." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, it won't matter, I dare say," I -answered. "Take care of yourself, Jack." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mr. Ticehurst," said he, turning -round in the saddle, and wincing as he did -so, "it is you who must be careful! Pray, -do be very careful!" -</p> - -<p> -I nodded, shook hands, and rode on. -</p> - -<p> -When I came to the Flemings', Fanny -was at the big gate, and she asked a question -by her eyes before we got close enough to -speak. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Fanny," said I, "it was serious." And -then I told her what had occurred. -She held out her hand and pressed mine -sympathetically. -</p> - -<p> -"I am so sorry, Tom," was all she said; -but she said it so kindly that her voice -almost brought the tears to my eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Has Elsie spoken to you since I went, -Fanny?" I asked, as we walked down to -the house together, while my horse followed -with his head hanging down. -</p> - -<p> -"I haven't even seen her, Tom," she -replied; "the door was locked, and when I -knocked she told me to go away, which, as -it's my room too, was not very polite." -</p> - -<p> -In spite of my love for Elsie, I felt -somewhat bitter against her injustice to me, -and I was glad to see that I made her suffer -a little on her part. I know I have said very -little about my own feelings, for I don't care -somehow to put down all that I felt, any -more than I like to tell any stranger all that -is near my heart; but I did feel strongly and -deeply, and to see her, who was with me by -day and night as the object of my fondest -hope, so unjust, was enough to make me -bitter. I wished to reproach her, for I was -not a child—a boy, to be fooled with like this. -</p> - -<p> -"Go and ask her to see me, Fanny, please," -I said rather sternly, as I stood outside the -door. "And don't tell her anything of what -I told you, either of Will or Matthias." -</p> - -<p> -Fanny started. -</p> - -<p> -"You never said anything of Matthias!" she cried. -</p> - -<p> -"Didn't I, Fanny? Well, then, I will. -He has escaped from prison, and I suppose -he is after me by this. But don't tell Elsie. -Just say I want to see her." -</p> - -<p> -In a few moments she came back, with -tears in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"She won't, Tom! She is in an obstinate -fit, I know. And though she is crying her -eyes out—the spiteful cat!—she won't come. -I know her. She just told me to go away. -What shall I do?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing, Fanny," I answered; "you can -tell her what you like. Will you be so cruel -to your lover, little Fanny?" -</p> - -<p> -She looked up saucily. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, Tom; I shall see when I -have one"—and she laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"What about Jack Harmer, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you see," and she looked down, -"he's very young." She wasn't more than -seventeen herself, and looked younger. -"And, besides, I don't care for anybody but -Elsie and father and you, Tom." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, Fanny," said I; "give me a -kiss from Elsie, and make her give it you -back." -</p> - -<p> -"I will, Tom," she said quite simply, and, -kissing her, I rode off quietly across the flat -to my solitary home. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -PART V -<br /><br /> -AT THE BLACK CAÑON. -</h3> - -<p> -Now, as far as I have gone in this story, I -have related nothing which I did not see or -hear myself, which is, as it seems to me, the -proper way to do it, provided nothing important -is left out. But as I have learnt since -then what happened to other people, and -have pieced the story together in my mind, -I see it is necessary to depart from the rule I -have observed hitherto, if I don't want to -explain, after I have come to the end of the -whole history, what occurred before; and -that, I can see, would be a very clumsy way -of narrating any affair. Now, what I am -going to tell I have on very good evidence, for -Dave at the Forks, and Conlan's stableman -told me part, and afterward, as will be seen, -I actually learnt something from Siwash Jim -himself, who here plays rather a curious and -important part. -</p> - -<p> -It appears that the day after I was at the -Forks (which day I spent, by the way, with -Mr. Fleming, riding round the country, -returning afterward by the trail which led -from the Black Cañon down to my house) -Siwash Jim, who had to all appearance -recovered from the injuries, which, however, -were only bruises, that I had inflicted on him, -began to drink early in the morning. He -had, so Dave says, quite an unnatural power -of keeping sober—and Dave himself can -drink more than any two men I am acquainted -with, unless it is Mac, my old partner, so he -ought to know. And though Jim drank -hard, he did not become drunk, but only -abused me. He called me all the names -from coyote upward and downward which -a British Columbian of any standing has at -his tongue's end, and when Jim had exhausted -the resources of the fertile American -language, he started in Siwash or Indian, in -which there are many choice terms of abuse. -But in spits of his openness, Dave says -it was quite evident he was dangerous, and -that I might really have been in peril at any -time of the day if I had come to town, for -Jim was deemed a bad character among his -companions, and had, so it was said, killed -one man at least, though he had never been -tried for it. But though he sat all day in the -bar, using my name openly, he never made -a move till eight in the evening, when he -went out for awhile. -</p> - -<p> -When he returned he was accompanied by -a thin dark man, wearing a slouch hat over -his eyes, whom Dave took to be a half-breed -of some kind, and they had drinks together, -for which the stranger paid, speaking in good -English, but not with a Western accent. -Then the two went to the other side of the -room. What their conversation was, no one -knows exactly, nor did I ever learn; but -Dave, who was keeping his eye on Jim, says -that it seemed as if the stranger was trying -to persuade Jim to be quiet and stay where -he was, and from what occurred afterward -there is little doubt his supposition was -correct. Moreover, my name undoubtedly -occurred in this conversation, for Dave heard -it, and the name of my ranch as well. Soon -after that some men came in, and, in consequence -of his being busy, Dave did not see -Jim go out. But Conlan's stableman says -Jim came to the stable with the stranger and -got his horse. When asked where he was -going, he said for a ride, and would answer -no more questions. And all the time the -strange man tried to persuade him not to go, -and to come and have another drink. If Jim -had been flush of money there might have -been a motive for this, but as he was not, -there seemed then to be none beyond the -sudden and absurd fondness that men -sometimes conceive for each other when drunk. -But if this were the case, it was only on the -stranger's side, for when the horse was brought -round to the door Jim mounted it, and when -the other man still importuned him not to go, -Siwash Jim struck at him with his left hand -and knocked off his hat as he stood in the -light coming from the bar. And just then -attention was drawn from Jim by a sudden -shriek from the other side of the road where -Conlan's private house stood. When Dave -came out and looked for him again, both he -and the other man had disappeared down the -road, which branched about half a mile out -of town into two forks, one leading eastward -and the other southward to the Flemings'. -</p> - -<p> -Now, as I said before, most of that day I -had been out riding with Mr. Fleming, who -left me early, in order to go to the next ranch -down the road, and I had told him the whole -story about Mat's escape, and my brother's -death; which he agreed with me were hardly -likely to be connected. Yet he acknowledged -if they were I was in much more danger than -one would have thought before, because such -a deed would show the Malay was a desperado -of the most fearless and dangerous -description; and besides, if he had robbed Will, -it was more than likely he knew where I was -from my own letters, or from my address -written in a pocketbook my brother always -carried, and which was missing. Of course, -this conversation made me full, as it were, of -Mat; and that, combined with the unlucky -turn affairs had taken with regard to Elsie, -made me more nervous than I was inclined -to acknowledge to her father. So before I -went to bed, which I did at ten o'clock—for I -was very tired, being still unaccustomed to -much riding—I locked my door carefully, and -put the table against it, neither of which -things I had ever done before, and which I -was almost inclined to undo at once, for it -seemed cowardly to me. Yet I thought of -Elsie, and, still hoping to win her, I was -careful of my life. I went to sleep, in spite of -my nervous preoccupation, almost as soon as -I lay down, and I suppose I must have been -asleep two hours before I woke out of a -horrible dream. I thought that I was on board -ship, in my own berth, lying in the bunk, and -that Mat was on my chest strangling me with -his long lithe fingers. And all the time I -heard, as I thought, the sails flap, as though -the vessel had come up in the wind. As I -struggled—and I did struggle desperately—the -blood seemed to go up into my head and -eyes, until I saw the fiend's face in a red -light, and then I woke. The house was on -fire, and I was being suffocated! As the -flames worked in from the outside, and made -the scorching timbers crack again and again, -I sprang out of bed. I had lain down with -my trousers on, and, seeing at once there -must be foul play for the house to catch fire -on the outside, and at the back too, where I -never went, I drew on my boots, snatched my -revolver up, and leapt at the front window, -through which I went with a crash, uttering -a loud cry as I did so, for a piece of the glass -cut my left arm deeply. As I came to the -ground, I saw a horseman in front of me, and -by the light of the fire, which had already -mounted to the roof of the house, I recognized -Siwash Jim. Then, whether it was that the -horse he rode was frightened at the crash I -made or not, it suddenly bounded into the -air, turned sharp round, and bolted into the -brush, just where the trail came down from -the Black Cañon. As Jim disappeared, I -fired, but with no effect; and that my shot was -neither returned nor anticipated was, I saw, -due to the fact that the villain had dropped -his own six-shooter, probably at the first -bound of his horse, just where he had been standing. -</p> - -<p> -I was in a blind fury of rage, for such a -cowardly and treacherous attack on an -unoffending man's life seemed hardly credible -to me. And there my home was burning, -and it was no fault of his that I was not -burning with it, or shot dead outside my own -door. But he should not escape, if I chased -him for a month. I was glad he had been -forced to take the trail, for there was no -possible outlet to it for miles, so thick was the -brush in that mountainous region. Fortunately, -I now had two horses; and the one in -my stable, which I had only bought from -Fleming a week before, was not the one I -had been riding all that day. I threw the -saddle on him, clinched it up tightly, and led -him out. I carried both the weapons, my -own and Jim's, and I rode up the narrow and -winding path in a blind and desperate fury, -which seldom comes to a man, but it when it -does it makes him careless of his own life -and utterly reckless; and as I rode, in a -fashion I had never done before, even though -I trusted a mountain-bred and forest-trained -horse, I swore that I myself should die that -night, or that Siwash Jim should feel the just -weight of my wrath. But before I can tell -the terrible story of that terrible night I must -return once more, and for the last time, to -Thomson Forks. -</p> - -<p> -I said, some pages back, that attention had -been drawn from Siwash Jim and his strange -companion by a sudden shriek from Ned -Conlan's house. That shriek had been uttered -by Helen, who was still staying with Mrs. Conlan, -as she and her hostess were standing -outside in the dying twilight, and, after -screaming, she had fainted, remaining -insensible for nearly half an hour. When -Dr. Smith, as he called himself—though an -Englishman has natural doubts as to how -the practitioners in the West earn their -diplomas—had helped her recovery, she spoke -at once in a state of nervous excitement -painful to witness. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I saw him—I saw him!" she said, in -an hysterical voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Who, my dear?" asked Mrs. Conlan, in -what people call a comforting way. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is Mr Conlan?" was Helen's -answer. He came into the room in which -she was lying. Helen turned to him at once. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr. Conlan, I want you to take me out to -my brother-in-law's house—to Mr. Ticehurst's -farm!" -</p> - -<p> -They all exclaimed against her foolishness -and demanded why; while Conlan scratched -his head in a puzzled manner. -</p> - -<p> -"I tell you I must see him to-night, and at -once! For I saw the man who swore to kill him." -</p> - -<p> -The bystanders shook their heads sagely, -thinking she was mad, but Conlan asked if -she meant Siwash Jim. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "it was not Jim." But -she must go, and she would. With an extraordinary -exhibition of strength, she rose and -ordered horses in an imperative tone, saying -she was quite well enough to do as she liked. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Conlan appealed to the doctor, and -he, perhaps being glad to advise against the -opinion of those present, as such a course -might indicate his superior knowledge, said -he thought it best to let her have her own -way. I think, too, that Helen, who seemed -to have regained her strength, had regained -with it her old power of making people do as -she wished. At any rate, Mr. Conlan meekly -acquiesced, and, saying he would drive her -himself, went out to order horses at once. -When the buggy was brought to the door, -Helen got up without assistance, and begged -him to be quick. His wife, who would never -have dared to even suggest his hurrying, -stood aghast at seeing her usually masterful -husband do as he was bid. They drove -off, leaving Mrs. Conlan to prophesy certain -death as the result of this inexplicable -expedition, while the others speculated, more or -less wildly, as to what it all meant. -</p> - -<p> -Conlan told me that Helen never spoke all -the way except to ask how much longer they -were going to be, or to complain of the -slowness of the pace. -</p> - -<p> -"Most women," said Ned, "would have -been scared at the way I drove, for it was -pitch dark; and if the horses hadn't known -the road as well, or better, than I did, we -should have come to grief in the first mile. -But she never turned a hair. She was a -wonderful woman, sir!" -</p> - -<p> -It was already past eleven o'clock when -they got to the top of the hill just above -Fleming's, and from there the light of my -house burning could be distinctly seen, -although the place itself was hidden by a -rise, and Helen pointed to it, nervously -demanding what it was. -</p> - -<p> -"Ticehurst must have been burning -brush," said Conlan, offering the very -likeliest explanation. But Helen said, "No, no," -impatiently, and told him to hurry. Just -then Conlan remembered that he did not -know the road across from Fleming's to my -place, and said so. -</p> - -<p> -"You had better stop at Fleming's, and -send for him. They aint in bed yet, ma'am. -I see their light." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want to see the Flemings; I -want Mr. Ticehurst," said Helen obstinately. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, we must stop at Fleming's," said -Conlan, "if it's only to ask the way. I don't -know the road, and I'm not going to kill you -and myself by driving into the creek such a -night as this." -</p> - -<p> -And Helen was fain to acquiesce, for she -could not do otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached the house Fanny was -standing outside, and as the light from the -open door fell on Helen's pallid face, she -screamed. -</p> - -<p> -"Good Heavens, Mrs. Ticehurst! Is it -you?" she cried—"and you, Mr. Conlan? -Oh, I am so glad!—father's away, and -Mr. Ticehurst's house must be on fire." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Helen, "I thought so. Oh, -oh! he's dead, I know he's dead! I must go -to him! Fanny, dear, can you show us the -way—can you? You must! Perhaps we -can save him yet!" -</p> - -<p> -She frightened Fanny terribly, for her face -was so pale and her eyes glittered so, and for -a moment the girl could hardly speak. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know it by night, Mrs. Ticehurst; -but Elsie does," she said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is she, then?" said Helen eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -"She's gone over there now," cried Fanny, -"for father had not come home; and when -we saw the fire, we were afraid something -had happened, so Elsie took the black horse -and went over. She's there now." -</p> - -<p> -"Then what shall we do?" cried Helen, in -an agony, "he will be killed!" -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Mrs. Ticehurst?" asked -Fanny, trembling all over. "Oh, what is it!" -</p> - -<p> -But she took no notice and sat like a -statue, only she breathed hard and heavily, -and her hands twitched; as she looked -toward my burning home. -</p> - -<p> -"Silence!" she cried suddenly, though -no one spoke. "There is somebody coming." -</p> - -<p> -And the three of them looked into the -darkness, in which there was a white figure -moving rapidly. -</p> - -<p> -"It is Elsie!" screamed Fanny joyfully; -and Helen sprang from the buggy, and stood -in the light, as Elsie exclaimed in wonder at -Fanny's excited voice. -</p> - -<p> -The two women stood face to face, looking -in each other's eyes, and then Elsie, who for -one moment had shown nothing but surprise, -went white with scorn and anger. How glad -I should have been to have seen her so, or to -have learnt, even at that moment when I -stood in the greatest peril I have ever known, -that she had ridden over to save or help me, -even though her acts but added a greater -danger to those in which I already stood. -For her deed and her look were the deed and -look of a woman who loves and is jealous. -But it might have seemed to me, had I been -there, that Helen's coming had overbalanced -the scale once more against me, and perhaps -for the last time. I am glad I did not know -that fear until it was only imagination, and -the imaginary canceling of a series of -events, that could place me again in such a -situation. -</p> - -<p> -The two women looked at each other, and -then Elsie turned away. -</p> - -<p> -"Stop, stop!" cried Helen; "what has -happened? Where is Mr. Ticehurst?" -</p> - -<p> -"What is that to you?" said Elsie cruelly, -and with her eyes flaming. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell us, Elsie," said Fanny imploringly. -</p> - -<p> -"I will <i>not</i>!" said her sister—"not to this -woman! Go back, Mrs. Ticehurst! What -are you doing here?" -</p> - -<p> -Helen caught her by the arm, and looked -in her face. -</p> - -<p> -"Girl, I know your thoughts!" she said; -"but you are wrong—I tell you, you are -wrong! You love him——" -</p> - -<p> -"I do not!" said Elsie angrily. "I love -no other woman's lover!" -</p> - -<p> -Surely, though there were two dazed onlookers, -these women were in a state to speak -their natural minds. -</p> - -<p> -"Girl, girl!" said Helen, once more, "I -tell you again, you are wrong! You are -endangering <i>your</i> lover's life. Is he not your -lover, or did you go over there to find out -nothing? I tell you, I came to save him, -and to save him for you—no, not for you, you -are not worth it, though he thinks you -perfection! You are a wicked girl, and a -fool! Come, come! why don't you speak? -What has become of him? Is he over there now?" -</p> - -<p> -Elsie was silent, but yielding. Fanny -spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -"Elsie—Elsie, speak—answer her! What -happened over there, and where is the horse?" -</p> - -<p> -Elsie turned to her, as though disdaining -to answer Helen. -</p> - -<p> -"Someone set his house on fire, I think; -perhaps it was Jim, and Mr. Ticehurst has -gone after him!" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Helen, as if relieved, "if that -is all! How did you know he is gone—did -you see him, speak to him?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Elsie; "I did not!" -</p> - -<p> -"Then how do you know?" cried Fanny -and Helen, together. -</p> - -<p> -"There was a man there——" -</p> - -<p> -Helen cried out as if she were struck, and -Elsie paused. -</p> - -<p> -"Go on!" the other cried—"go on!" -</p> - -<p> -"And when I came up he was sitting by -the house. I asked him if Mr. Ticehurst was -there——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you fool!" groaned Helen, but only -Fanny heard it. -</p> - -<p> -"And he got up," continued Elsie, "and -said there was no one there, but just as he -was coming from his camp to see what the -fire was, he heard a shot, and when he got to -the house he saw somebody just disappear -up the trail toward the cañon." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you know him?" said Helen, as Elsie -paused to take breath, for when she began to -speak she spoke rapidly, and, conceal it as -she would, it was evident she was in a fearful -state of excitement. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Elsie; "but I think I have seen -him before." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is he, then?" cried Helen, holding -her hand to her heart. "Is he there still?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," cried Fanny, almost joyfully, "you -gave him your horse to go and find Tom, and -help him, didn't you, Elsie?" -</p> - -<p> -And Helen screamed out in a terrible -voice, "No, no! you did not, you did -not—say you did not, girl!" -</p> - -<p> -Elsie, who had turned whiter and whiter, -turned to her suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I did," she cried; "I did give him -the horse." -</p> - -<p> -Helen lifted her hands up over her head -with an awful gesture of despair, and fell on -her knees, catching hold of both the girls' -dresses. But she held up and spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you wretched, unhappy girl!" she -cried. "What have you done—what <i>have</i> -you done? To whom did you give the horse? -I know, I know! I saw him this very -night—the man who swore to be revenged on him -if it were after a century. The man who -nearly killed him once, and who has escaped -from prison. You have given him the means -of killing your lover—you have given Tom -Ticehurst up to Matthias, to a murderer—a -murderer!" -</p> - -<p> -And she fell back, and this time did not -recover herself, but lay insensible, still holding -the girls' dresses with as desperate a clutch -as though she were keeping back from following -me the man who was upon my track that -terrible midnight. But Elsie stooped, freed -her dress, and saying to Fanny, "See to her—see -to her!" ran down to the stable again, -just as her father rode through the higher gate. -</p> - -<p> -And as that girl, who had known -and ridden from her childhood, was saddling -the first one she came to in the stable, I was -riding hard and desperately in the dark -not a quarter of a mile behind Siwash Jim. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The trail upon which we both were ran -from my house, straight up into the mountains -for nearly ten miles, and then followed the -verge of the Black Cañon for more than a -mile farther. When I came up to that place -I stayed for one moment, and heard the dull -and sullen roar of the broken waters three -hundred feet beneath me, and then I rode on -again as though I was as irresistibly impelled -as they were, and was just as bound to cut -my way through what Fate had placed -before as they had been to carve that narrow -and tremendous chasm in the living rock. -And at last I came to a fork in the trail. -If I had not been there before with -Mr. Fleming, I should most likely have never -seen Jim that night, perhaps never again. -But we had stayed at that very spot. The -left-hand fork was the main track, and led -right over the mountains into the Nicola -Valley; while the left and disused one, which -was partially obliterated by thick-growing -weeds, led back through the impassable scrub -and rough rocks to the middle of the Black -Cañon. I had passed that end of it without -thinking, for indeed it was scarcely likely he -would have turned off there. The chances -seemed a thousand to one that Jim would -take the left-hand path, but just because it -did seem so certain, I alighted from my horse -and struck a light. The latest horse track -led to the right hand! He had relied on my -taking the widest path, and continuing in it -until it was too late to catch a man who had -so skillfully doubled on me. I had no doubt -that his curses at losing his revolver were -changed into chuckles, as he thought of me -riding headlong in the night, until my horse -was exhausted, while he was returning the -way I had come. I stopped to think, and -then, getting on my horse, I rode back slowly -to where the trails joined at the edge of the -Cañon. I would wait for him there. And I -waited more than half an hour. -</p> - -<p> -It is strange how such little circumstances -alter everything, for not only would Jim's -following the Nicola trail have resulted in -something very different, but, waiting half an -hour, during which I cooled somewhat and -lost the first blind rage of passion in which I -had set out, set me reflecting as to what I -should do. If I had come up with him at -full gallop I should have shot him there and -then. He would have expected it, and it -would have been just vengeance; but now I -was quietly waiting for him, and to shoot -him when he appeared seemed to me hardly -less cowardly conduct than his own. Then, -if I gave him warning, he would probably -escape me, and I was not so generous as to -let him have the chance. Yet, in after years, -seeing all that followed from what I did, I -think I was more generous than just. I ought -to have regarded myself as the avenging arm -of the law, and have struck as coolly as an -executioner. But I determined to give him -a chance for his life, though giving him that -was risking my own, which I held dear, if -only for Elsie's sake; and so I backed my -horse into the brush, where I commanded -both trails, and, cocking both revolvers, I sat -waiting. In half an hour I heard the tramp -of a horse, though at first I could not tell -from which way the sound came. But at -last I saw that I had been right in my -conjecture, and that my enemy was given into -my hands. My heart beat fast, but my -hands were steady, for I had full command -over myself. I waited until he was nearly -alongside of me, and then I spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Throw up your hands, Siwash Jim!" I -said, in a voice that rang out over the roar -of the waters below us, "or you are a dead man!" -</p> - -<p> -And he threw them up, and as he sat there -I could see his horse was wearied out. If it -had not been, perhaps my voice would have -startled it, and compelled me to fire. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you going to do?" said he, -sullenly peering in my direction, for he could -barely see me against my background of trees -and brush, whereas I had him against the sky. -</p> - -<p> -"I will tell you, you miserable scoundrel!" -I answered. "But first, get off your horse, -and do it slowly, or I will put two bullets -through you! Mind me!" -</p> - -<p> -He dismounted slowly. -</p> - -<p> -"Tie your horse to that sapling, if you will -be kind enough," I said further; "and don't -be in a hurry about it, and don't attempt to -get behind it, or you know what will happen." -</p> - -<p> -When he had done as I ordered, I spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you got any matches?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you have, you villain! The -same you set my house on fire with. Well, -now rake up some brush, and make a little -fire here." -</p> - -<p> -"What for?" said he quickly, for I believe -he thought for a moment I meant to roast -him alive. I undeceived him if that was his idea. -</p> - -<p> -"So that we can see each other," I replied, -"for I'm going to give you a chance for your -life, though you don't deserve it. Where's -your six-shooter?" -</p> - -<p> -"I dropped it," he grunted. -</p> - -<p> -"And I picked it up," said I. "So make -haste if you don't want to be killed with -your own weapon!" -</p> - -<p> -What his thoughts were I can't say, but -without more words he set about making a -fire, soon having a vigorous blaze, by which I -saw plainly enough the looks of fear, distrust, -and hatred he cast at me. But he piled on -the branches, though I checked him once or -twice when I thought he was going too far -to gather them. When there was sufficient -light to illuminate the whole space about us -and the opposing bank of the cañon, I told -him that was enough. -</p> - -<p> -"That will do," I said; "go and stand at -the edge of the cañon!" -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -"You're not going to shoot me like a dog, -and put me down there, are you?" said he, -trembling. -</p> - -<p> -"Like a dog?" said I passionately; "did -you not try to smother me like a bear in his -den, to burn me alive in my own house? Do -as I tell you, or I'll shoot you now and roll -your body in the river! Go!" -</p> - -<p> -And he went as I asked him. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you got any cartridges?" I demanded. -</p> - -<p> -He pointed to his belt, and growled that -he had plenty. -</p> - -<p> -"Then stay there, and I will tell you -what I will do with you. I am going to -empty your revolver, and you can have it -when it is empty. I will get off my horse -and then you can load it again, and when I -see you have filled it, you can do your best -for yourself. Do you hear me?" -</p> - -<p> -He nodded his head, and kept his eyes -fixed on me anxiously, as though not -daring to hope I was going to be so foolish -as my word. But I was, even to the -extent of firing his revolver into the air, -though I had no suspicion of what I was -really doing, nor what such an act would -bring about. -</p> - -<p> -I alighted from my horse, and let him go, -for there was no danger of his running away. -I even struck him lightly, and sent him up -the trail out of the way of accident; and then, -keeping my own revolver pointed at Jim, who -stood like a statue, I raised his in my left -hand. I fired, and the reports rang out over -the hills. I threw Siwash Jim his weapon, -saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Load the chambers slowly, and count as -you do so." -</p> - -<p> -What a fool I was, to be sure, not to have -shot him dead and let him lie! Though I -should not have been free from the dangers -that encompassed me, yet they would have -been fewer, far fewer, and more easily -contended with. But I acted as Fate would -have, and even as I counted I heard Jim -count too, in a strained, hoarse voice—one, -two, three, four, five, six—and he was an -armed man again, armed in the light, almost -half-way between us, that glittered in his -eyes and fell on my face. And it was his life -or mine; his life that was worth nothing, and -mine that was precious with the possibilities -of love that I yet knew not, of love that was -hurrying toward me even then, side by side -with hate and death. -</p> - -<p> -When Jim's weapon was loaded, he turned -toward me with the barrel pointed to the -ground. His eyes were fixed on mine, fixed -with a look of fear and hatred, but hatred -now predominated. I lowered my own -revolver until we both stood on equal terms. -</p> - -<p> -"Look," said I sternly; "you see that -burning branch above the fire. It is already -half burnt through; when it falls, look out -for yourself." -</p> - -<p> -And he stood still, perfectly still, while -behind and under him the flood in the cañon -fretted and roared menacingly, angrily, -hungrily, and the sappy branch cracked and -cracked again. It was bending, bending -slowly, but not yet falling, when Jim threw -his weapon up and fired, treacherous to the -last. But his aim was not sure, no surer -than mine when I returned his shot. As we -both fired again, I felt a sting in my left -shoulder, and the branch fell, slowly, -slowly—ah! as slowly as Jim did, for he sank on his -knees, rolled over sideways, and slipped backward -on the verge of the cañon, its sloping, -treacherous verge. And as he slipped, he -caught a long root disclosed by the falling -earth, and with the last strength of life hung -on to it, a yard below me; as I ran to the -edge, and stopped there, horror-struck. My -desire for vengeance was satisfied, more than -satisfied, for if I could have restored him to -solid ground and life I would have done it, -and bidden him go his way, so that I saw -him no more. For his face was ghastly and -horrible to see; his lips disclosed his teeth -as he breathed through them convulsively, -and his nostrils were widely distended. I -knelt down and vainly reached out my hands. -But he was a yard below me, and to go half -that distance meant death for me as well. I -knelt there and saw him fail gradually; his -eyes closed and opened again and again; he -caught his lower lip between his teeth and -bit it through and through, and then his -head fell back, his hands relaxed, and he was -gone. And I heard the sullen plunge of his -body as it fell three hundred feet into the -waters below. I remained still and -motionless for a moment. What a thing man was -that he should do such deeds! I rose, and a -feeling of sorrow and remorse for this -terrible death of a fellow-creature made me -stagger. I put my hand to my brow, and -then peered over the edge of the cañon. -What was I looking for? Was I looking -into the river of Fate? I took my revolver -and threw it into the cañon, that it should -slay no other man. As it fell it struck a -projecting rock, and, exploding, the echoes in -the narrow space roared and thundered up -the gorge toward the east, where, just beyond -the mountains, the first faint signs of rosy -dawn were written upon the heavens. Was -that an omen of peace and love to me, of a -fairer, brighter day? I lifted my heart -above and prayed it might be so. But it was -yet night, still dark, and the darkest hour is -before the dawn, for as I turned my back to -the cañon and stepped across to the fire which -had lighted poor, foolish, ignorant Jim to his -death, I looked up, and saw before me the -thin face I feared more than all others, and -the wicked eyes of my escaped enemy, -Matthias of the <i>Vancouver</i>. -</p> - -<p> -I have never believed myself a coward, for -I have faced death too often, and but a few -minutes ago I had risked my life in a manner -which few men would have imitated; but -I confess that in the horrible surprise of -that moment, in the strange unexpectedness -of this sudden and most unlooked-for -appearance, I was stricken dumb and motionless, -and stood glaring at him with opened eyes, -while my heart's blood ran cold, For I was -unarmed, by my own act of revulsion and -remorse; and wounded too, for I could feel -the blood trickle slowly from my shoulder -that had been deeply scored by the second -bullet from Jim's revolver. And I was in -the same position that I had put him in, in a -clear space with thick brush on both sides, -through which there was no escape, and in -which there was no shelter but a single tree -to the left of the blazing fire, which was -already gradually crawling in the dry brush. -Surely I was delivered into my enemy's hands, -for he was armed and carried a revolver, -on whose bright barrel the fire glinted -harshly. How long we stood facing each -other I cannot say, but it seemed hours. If -he had but fired then, he might have killed -me at once, for I was unable to move; but -he did not desire that, I could see he did not, -as his hot eyes devoured me and gleamed -with a light of savage joy and triumph. He -spoke at last, and in a curiously quiet voice, -that was checked every now and again with -a sort of sob which made me shiver. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! Mr. Ticehurst," he said slowly, "you -know me? You look as if you did. I am -glad you feel like that. You are afraid!" -</p> - -<p> -I looked at him and answered: -</p> - -<p> -"It is a lie!" -</p> - -<p> -And from that time forward it was a lie, -for I feared no more. -</p> - -<p> -"No," he said, "I think not; you are pale, -and just now you shook. I don't shake, even -after what I have been through. Look at me!" -</p> - -<p> -He pointed his weapon at me, and his -hand was as steady as a rock. He lowered it -again and stroked the barrel softly with his -lean left hand. -</p> - -<p> -"You remember what I said to you," he -went on, "don't you, Thomas Ticehurst? I -do, and I have kept my word. Ah! I have -thought of this many times, many times. -They tortured me and treated me like a dog -in the jail you sent me to; they beat me, -and kicked me, and starved me, but I never -complained, lest my time there should be -longer. And when I lay down at night I -thought of the time when I should kill you. -I knew it would come, and it has. But just -now, when I saw you by the side of your -own grave, looking down, I didn't know -whether it was you or the other man, and I -thought perhaps he had killed you. If it -had been he, I would have killed him." -</p> - -<p> -He paused, and I still stood there with -a flood of thoughts rushing through me. -What should I do? If he had taken his eyes -off mine for but one single moment I would -have sprung on him; but he did not, and -while he talked, I heard the horses champing -their bits in the brush. And cruelest of all, -my own horse moved, and put his head -through the branches and looked at me. -Oh, if I were only on his back! But I did -not speak. -</p> - -<p> -"How shall I kill you?" said Matthias -at last; "I would like to cut you to pieces!" -</p> - -<p> -He paused again, and then another horse -that I had not yet seen moved on the other -side of the trail where he had come up. It -had heard the others, and I knew it must be -the animal he had ridden. It came out of -the brush into the light of the fire, and I -knew it was Elsie's. My heart gave a -tremendous leap, and then stood still. How had -he become possessed of it? I spoke, and in a -voice I could not recognize as my own, so -hoarse and terrible it was. -</p> - -<p> -"How did you get that white horse, you -villain?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me fiercely without at first -seeing how he could burt me, and then a look -of beast-like, cruel cunning came into his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said he, "I knew her! It was -your girl's horse! How did I get it? -Perhaps you would like to know? You will -never see her again—never! Where is she -now—where?" -</p> - -<p> -He knew as little as I did, but the way he -spoke, and the horrible things he put into his -voice, made me boil with fury. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a lying dog!" I cried, though -he had said nothing that I should be so -wrathful. He grinned diabolically, seeing -how he had hurt me, and then laughed loud -in an insulting, triumphant manner. It was -too much, and I made one tremendous bound -across the fire, and landed within three feet -of him. He fired at the same moment, and -whether he had wounded me or not I did -not know; but the revolver went spinning -two yards off, and we grappled in a death-hug. -</p> - -<p> -I have said that Siwash Jim was a hard -man to beat, but whether it was that I was -weak with my wound or not, I found Matthias, -who was mad with hate and fury, the -most terrible antagonist I had ever tackled. -He was as slippery as an eel, as lithe as a -snake, and withal his grip was like that of -a steel trap. Yet if I could but prevent him -drawing his knife, which was at his belt, I -did not care. I was his match if not in -agility, at least in strength, and I would -never let him go. We were for one moment -still, after we grappled, and I trust I shall -never see anything that looks more like a -devil than his eyes, in which the light of the -fire shone, while he gnashed his teeth and -ground them until the foam and saliva oozed -out of his mouth like a mad dog's venom. -His forehead was seamed and wrinkled, his -cheeks were sucked in and then blown out -convulsively, and his whole aspect was more -hideous than that of a beast of prey. And -then the struggle began. -</p> - -<p> -At first it was a trial of strength, for -although I was so much the bigger, he knew -his own power and the force of his iron -nerves, and he hoped to overcome me thus. -We reeled to and fro, and twice went -through the fire, where I once held him for -an instant with a malicious joy that was -short-lived, for the pain added to his -strength, and he forced me backward, until -I struck the trunk of the tree a heavy blow. -Then we swayed hither and thither, for I -had him by the right wrist and the left -shoulder, not daring to alter my grip on his -right hand, lest he should get his knife. He -held me in the same way, and at last we -came to the very verge of the cañon, and -spurned the tracks that Jim had made in his -agony. For a moment I thought he would -throw us both in, but he had not lost hope. -If he had, that moment would have been my -last. In another second we had staggered to -the fire, and he tried all his strength to free -his right hand. At last, by a sudden wrench -he did it, and dropped his fingers like lightning -on his knife, just as I bent his left wrist -over, and struck him in the face with his -own clenched hand. We both went down; -his knife ripped my shoulder by the very -place that Jim's bullet had struck, and we -rolled over and over madly and blindly, -burning ourselves on the scattered embers, -tearing ourselves on the jagged roots and -small branches, which we smashed, as I -strove to dash him on the ground, and he -struggled to free his arm, which I had -gripped above the elbow, to end the battle at -one blow. But though he once drove the -point more than an inch into the biceps, and -three times cut me deeply, he did not injure -any nerve so as to paralyse the limb. And -yet I felt that I was becoming insensible, so -tremendous was the strain and the excitement, -and I felt that I must make a last -effort, or die. Somehow we rose to our -knees, still grappling, and if I looked a tithe -as horrible as he did, covered with blood, -saliva, and sweat, I must have been horrible -to see. We glared in each other's eyes for one -moment, and then, loosing my hold on his -left arm, I caught his right wrist with both -hands. With his freed hand he struck me -with all his remaining strength full in the -face while I twisted his right wrist with a -force that should have broken it, but which -only compelled him to relinquish the bloody -piece of steel. And then we rolled over -again, and lay locked in each other's arms. -There was a moment's truce, for human -nature could not stand the strain. But I -think he believed I was beaten, and at his -mercy, for he was on top of me, lying half -across ray breast, with his face not six inches -from mine. He spoke in a horrible voice, -that shook with hate and pain and triumph. -</p> - -<p> -"I've got you now—and I'll kill you, as I -did your brother!" -</p> - -<p> -Great God! then it was he who had done -it, after all. Better had it been for him to -have held his peace, for that word roused me -again as nothing else could have done, and I -caught his throat with both hands, though -he struck me viciously. I held him as he lay -on top of me, and saw him die. Then I -knew no more for a little while, and as I lay -there insensible, I still bled. -</p> - -<p> -What was it that called me to myself? -Whether it was that my soul had gone out -to meet someone, and returned in triumph, -for I awoke with a momentary feeling of -gladness; or whether it was an unconscious -effort of the brain, in the presence of a new -and terrible danger, I cannot say. All I -know is that, when that spasm of joy passed, -I felt weak and unable to move under the -weight of Matthias, whose protruding eyes -and tongue mocked at me hideously in death, -as though his revenge was even now being -accomplished; and I saw the fiery brush -creeping across the space that lay between -me and the fire Jim had kindled at my bidding. -Was I to die by fire at the last, when -that horrible night was passing and the -dawn was already breaking on the eastern -horizon? For I could not stir, my limbs -were like lead, my heart beat feebly, and my -feet were cold. I lay glaring at the fire, and, -as I did so, I saw that the revolver I had -struck out of Matthias's hand was lying as -far from the fire as the fire was from me. -How is it that there is such a clear intellect -at times in the very presence of death? I -saw then that the shots I had fired from that -weapon had brought my enemy up just in -time, for otherwise he might have been -wearied out or lost; and now I thought if I -could only get to it, to fire it, I might thus -bring help: for what enemies had I left now -save the crawling fire? I might even bring -Elsie. But then, how did the dead villain -who lay across me, choking me still, get her -horse, and what had happened to her in his -hands! I tried to scream, and I sighed as -softly as the vague wind which was impelling -the slow fires toward me. How near -they came!—how near—and nearer yet, like -serpents rearing their heads, spitting -viciously as they came? And then I thought -how slow they were; why did they not come -and end it at once, and let me die? And I -looked at the fires again. They were within -two feet of me, I could feel the heat, and -within eighteen inches of the revolver. I -was glad, and watched it feverishly. But -then the weapon's muzzle was pointed almost -at me. Suppose it exploded, and shot me -dead as it called for help! How strange it -was! I put up my hands feebly and tried -to move the dead body, so as to screen -myself. I might as well have tried to uproot a -tree, for I could barely move my hands. I -looked at the fire again as it crawled on and -on, now wavering, now staying one moment -to lift up its thousand little crests and -vicious eyes, and then stooping to lick up the -grass and the dried brush on which I lay. -But as I glared at it intently, at last it -reached the weapon, and coiled round it -triumphantly as though that had been its -goal, licking it round and round. Would -the flames heat the cartridges enough, and if -they did, where would the bullets go? I -asked that deliriously, for I was in a fever, -and instead of being cold at heart, the blood -ran through me like fire. I thought I began -to feel the fire that was so close to me. I -heard the explosion of the heated weapon. -I was yet alive. "Come, Elsie! come, if -you are not dead—come and save me—come!" I -thought I cried out loudly, but -not even her ear, that heard a sharper sound -afar, could have caught that. Once more and -once again the cartridges fired, and I heard a -crash, saw a horse burst like a flame through -the black brush, and there was a white thing -before my eyes. I looked up and saw Elsie, -my own true love after all, and then I -fainted dead away, and did not recover until -long, long after. -</p> - -<p> -I ask myself sometimes even now, when -those hours that were burnt into my soul -return to my sight like an old brand coming -out on the healed flesh when it is struck -sudden and sharply, whether, after all, my -enemy had been balked of his revenge. To -die one death and go into oblivion is the lot -of all who face the rising sun, and, after a -while, veil their eyes when its last fires sink -in the western sea. But I suffered ten -thousand deaths by violence, by cruel ambush -and torture, by crawling flames and flashing -knives in the interval between my rescue and -my recovery from the fever that my wounds -and the horror of it all brought upon me. -They told me—Elsie herself told me—that I -lay raving only ten days; but it seemed -incredible to me, as I shook my head in a -vague disbelief that made them fear for my -reason. If I had been in the care of strangers -who were unfamiliar to me, I might have -thought myself a worn-out relic of some dead -and buried era, whose monuments had -crumbled slowly to ashes in the very fires -through which my soul had passed, shrieking -for the forgetful dead I had loved. But -though I saw her only vaguely like a spirit -in clouds, or knew her, without sight as I lay -half unconscious, as a beneficent presence -only, I grew gradually to feel that Elsie, who -still lived after the centuries of my delirium, -loved me with the passion I had felt for her. -I say <i>had</i> felt, for I was like a child, and my -desire for her was scarcely more than a -pathetic longing for tenderness of thought -and touch, until the great strength which had -been my pride returned in a flood and -brought passion with it once more. -</p> - -<p> -How strangely that came to pass which -I had foretold in my last talk with Elsie! -I had said, angrily—for I was angered—that -she should one day speak to me, though -she swore she would not, and that she should -implore my pardon. And she did it, she who -had been so strong and self-contained, in the -meekest and dearest way the thoughts of a -maiden could devise. And then she asked -me if I would marry her? Would I marry -her? I stared at her in astonishment, not at -her asking, for it seemed the most natural -thing in the world for her to do, but at the -idiocy of the Question. "I do believe you -love me, Elsie," I said at last, "for I have -heard that love makes the most sensible -people quite stupid. If you were in your -right senses, dear, you would not have asked it——" -</p> - -<p> -"I should think not, indeed!" she broke -in. But she smiled tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -"Because you know very well that I -settled that long enough ago, on board the -<i>Vancouver</i>," I said stoutly. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I had no voice in it?" Elsie said. -</p> - -<p> -"Not the least, I assure you! I made up -my mind." -</p> - -<p> -"And so did I," said Elsie, softly. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, dear?" -</p> - -<p> -She leant her head against my shoulder, -and against my big beard, and whispered: -</p> - -<p> -"I made up my mind, dear Tom, that if -you didn't love me, I would never love -anyone else, but go and be a nun or a nurse all -my life. And that's why I was so hard, you -know!" -</p> - -<p> -Yes, I knew that well enough. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -And where was Helen, meantime? I am -drawing so near the end of my story that -I must say what I have to in a few words. -She had remained at the ranch until the -doctor had declared I was going to recover -(it was no fault of his that I did), and then -she went away. What she told Elsie I have -never known, nor shall I ever ask; but they -parted good friends—yes, the best of -friends—and she returned home to Melbourne. I -never saw her again, at least not to my -knowledge, although once, when Elsie and I -were both in that city—for I returned to my -profession—I thought, nay, for the moment I -made sure, that she had come to know of our -presence there. For Elsie had presents of -fruit and flowers almost every day she was at -Melbourne. I part with her now with a -strange regret, and somehow I have never -confessed to anyone that I was very vexed -at her not waiting until I was well enough -to recognize her before she went. For, you -see, she loved me. -</p> - -<p> -But—and this is the last—the time came -when I was able to go out with Elsie and -Fanny, and though we rode slowly, it did not -need rapid motion to exhilarate me when she -was by my side. As for Fanny, she used to -lose us in the stupidest way, just as if she -had not been brought up in the bush, and -been able to follow a trail like a black fellow. -But when Harmer came out on Sundays, it -was we who lost them, for Fanny used to go -off at full speed, while Jack, who never got -used to a horse for many months, used to -risk his neck to keep up with her. Then she -used to annoy him at night by offering him -the softest seat, which he stoutly refused, -preferring to suffer untold tortures on a -wooden stool, rather than confess. But I -don't think they will ever imitate us, who -got married at last in the autumn at -Thomson Forks. I invited almost everyone -I knew to the wedding, and I made Mac -my chief man, much to Jack's disgust. I -would even have invited Montana Bill, but -he was lying in the hospital with a bullet in -his shoulder; while Hank Patterson could -not come on account of the police wanting -him for putting it there. But half the -population of the Forks had bad headaches -next day; and if I didn't have to wear my -right hand in a sling on account of the -shaking it got, it was because I was as strong -as ever. The only man who looked unhappy -was Mr. Fleming, and he certainly had a -right to be miserable, considering that I had -robbed him of his housekeeper, leaving him -to the tender mercies of flighty Fanny. -And she was so vicious to poor Jack that he -actually dared to say to me, "that if Elsie -had the temper of her sister, he was sorry -for me, and that it was a pity Siwash Jim and -Mat had made a mess of it." When I -rebuked him, he said merrily, "he guessed it -was a free country, and not the poop of the -<i>Vancouver</i>." So I let him alone, being quite -convinced then, and I have never changed -my opinion since, though we have been -married almost five years, that Elsie -Ticehurst is the best wife a man ever had, -and worth fighting for, even against the -world. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MATE OF THE VANCOUVER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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