THE ERRAND TO THE POOL
On the afternoon of the last of those November days Maud Neville chose
again the road to Pelican Pool. She had learned of Power's banishment
until dark to a corner of the run, and so might take the way without
fear of a meeting. Time, if a slow leech, was proving of service, and
misery had been exchanged for a jog-along content.
The picture was discovering its proportions, and, from the chair of
justice, she could examine it and pronounce verdict. It was crudely
drawn when studied thus. A man ran crying for a prize which he would
throw away as soon as gained. He demanded the meagre thing because it
stayed out of reach. There was humour in the picture if one was in the
mood to see it.
To-day an idea had come, building itself to shape during the morning.
As a result, when lunch was over, she had saddled the chestnut horse
again and taken the road to the river.
As she left the stable, Mr. King crossed to the office. He waited for
her in the path, and she pulled up the horse.
"Aren't you very energetic so early in the day?"
"One has to do something for a change, even if one becomes energetic.
Life is rather like those travelling shows that find the way here
sometimes. You have to clap and laugh loud in case you yawn your head
off."
"I would sooner yawn than clap on a day like this. Where are you off
to?"
"Somewhere. Anywhere. As the spirit shall move."
She felt friendly towards this man, who stood wrinkling his face at the
sunlight--a little slow, a little stout, and rather middle-aged. He too
was tangled in this stupid net. Could he have guessed it, she was in no
better case than he. He might have guessed it. The laugh might be his
as much as hers.
"Sometimes life moves fast enough to prevent one yawning," he said.
"So you have told me lately. Then you still look for copper by Pelican
Pool? You are a good miner, Mr. King. You follow the lode to its end."
"Did you think the fool ever learns from his folly?" he said.
"As much as the wise man garners from his wisdom."
"What, the sage is the fool grown old and bloodless?"
"Why not the spectator who leaves the arena to watch from the box."
"But will he seek the box, before he has lost in the arena? First,
must he not be broken by the other wrestlers, and come second in the
footrace?"
"Perhaps so, Mr. King."
"I must get under the tree, here. The sun never agrees with me after
lunch. That's better. Now I am ready for your profoundest philosophy.
Have you any for me?"
"Mr. King, I want you to be serious for once."
"What do you want?"
"Now don't be angry. Do you think it right to run after this girl? She
is very young."
"Right? There are no such things as right or wrong."
"I said be serious."
"I am serious. There are no such things as right or wrong. Mark me the
virtuous one. Find me the sinner. Some are born godly--a fig then for
their virtue. Some have no wish for narrow ways. Who shall point a
finger at them? Some struggle and win or lose. They who win have been
lent strength--where then their virtue? They who lose were denied aid.
Where is their vice? Foolish human souls all of us, given the hopes of
angels and the bodies of beasts."
"Fine big words, Mr. King."
"And if virtue exists, where is its reward? Does the gardener turn his
spade from the worm that tills his garden. Does the fowler cast less
wide his net lest he trap the song bird that soothed him overnight. The
old ox to the shambles. The old horse to the knacker."
"Come, I am not to be bluffed. Don't you think you ought to leave such
a child alone?"
"But why must I let be and others go on? Besides, her arms are very
wide."
"How can you talk like that, Mr. King. I thought you were fond of her.
You have made me angry now."
She drew the reins together and Stockings passed at a fast walk across
the plain. Presently the green belt of the river had risen out of the
horizon, and later they had come among the first trees. As she was
carried into the nobler timber, and saw the ribbons of water among
laced boughs, and met the pleasant play of light and shade, and felt
the cooler ways, and heard the call of birds in hidden places, the
charm of this quiet spot beside the river affected her magically as it
had done three weeks before. Indeed, this time she felt better able to
face circumstance. Then she had been an untried soldier, firm enough of
purpose, but one whom the first whistle of bullets had shocked. Three
weeks of war had proven her.
She rode' to the edge of the water. She found the fair scene had no
whit altered--unless the margin of the Pool had shrunken--unless the
great white lilies had tired of blooming, and slept now beneath the
water until another year should revive them--unless the sun, climbed
higher in the sky, stared down more unkindly.
After a space spent thus, with Stockings standing beneath her like a
rock, she turned over what was to be done. She frowned a little and
nursed her lip. It was not a pleasant errand she had come on, nor one
with a beginning easy to find. She had come to talk with the girl that
lived here, and bring her to a decision. She must give Jim yes or no.
Let her have him if she wanted; but let her say so. This could not go
on. His character was being sapped away. Let the girl take him and he
would have what he wanted, or let her send him away and he must pull
himself together. It did not matter to her--Maud. Things had gone too
far. The worst had been over a long time, and she could look the future
in the face. She was sure she did not care now as acutely as once she
had done. She would do him this kindness for old times sake, and
then she must begin to put him out of her life. But it was a hateful
business. She might meet scorn at the girl's hands--worse, Jim might
hear of her errand and think she was willing to throw pride away, if
by hook or by crook she could clutch back his affection. Well, love
must go on many services, and the trusted servant travels always by
unkindest ways.
She ordered Stockings forward, and he backed from the edge of the Pool
into the trees and followed the bridle path where soon the camp would
discover itself. The gentle birds piped them down their passage. The
hut came out among the trees. It looked mean and shabby from long
wooing by the weather. The hessian walls were drooping and the tents
had crumbled.
She pulled up the horse before he had carried her from the shelter of
the trees. She was disturbed again as to what to do. She must pretend
to come that way by chance. And how do that? She might ride up to the
door and ask for a cup of water. And then father or mother might open
to her. Well, things would happen as they would happen, and wit was the
serving man to enlist.
When she was ready to give Stockings the signal to advance, he lifted
his ears. She followed their direction and discovered she was watched.
Next instant she found the watcher was the girl she had come to find.
The child must have gone among the trees to gather dead branches for
firewood, and now stood there among the trunks, as still as they,
staring at her boldly. The figure might have been a dryad pausing on
the instant before flight. Its loveliness wounded her as though a
dart had been cast at her. Who could look upon such beauty and after
be content with less? She touched the flank of her big horse, and he
carried her across the space still to traverse. He came to full stop
when she tightened the reins.
She must be the first to speak. The girl had stood unmoved the while,
looking her boldly in the face. She wondered if she guessed her name
from hearsay.
"That must be hot work for the middle of the day. It would have waited
for evening. But I'm setting no better example, am I, riding about the
country like this? I was glad to find these trees."
She looked the girl over from head to foot. She judged her to be
eighteen years old or no more than nineteen, but a flower which had
come quick to bloom. She looked her over with uncharitable eyes, but
nowhere found fault. She gave up the task to tell herself never had
she seen such beauty. The girl returned stare for stare.
"I was gettin' a few sticks together," Moll Gregory answered. "Dad went
off without chopping a thing this morning, and we've run short."
"Are you in a hurry to be back with them?"
"No. Why?"
"I've made myself hot. This looks a nice place to spend a minute or
two. Will you keep me company a little while? I must soon go on."
Maud dismounted, the better to push matters forward. As she patted
the old horse she looked about for a seat. A fallen tree lay at hand,
and she dropped the reins upon the ground and sat down upon it. Moll
Gregory stood where she was, her eyes wide open. It seemed solitude
had not taught her to be shy. It occurred to Maud she must not delay.
At any moment the father or mother might come out of the doorway and
opportunity be gone.
"You have a lovely place to live in," she said. "But you must find it
out of the way. It's a long fag to Surprise."
"It's a treat for us. There isn't too much doing round here."
"I dare say. But loneliness has not kept you quite hidden. You are
better known than you may think. I had heard of you before we met
to-day. You are Moll Gregory, aren't you? You know a friend of mine.
Mr. Power, of Kaloona. He told me about you once. He said he had met
you in his travels."
The eyes which looked at her big with curiosity fell asleep all in a
moment. But the change made their loveliness no less lovely.
"Yes, I know Mr. Power."
"I'm a great friend of his. We have been friends a long time. Almost
brother and sister. We tell each other most secrets."
She wished the girl would say something. But instead, Moll Gregory
continued to stand before her, beautiful and sulky. It was the sense
of hurry in the matter that found her courage to go on. "Yes, we are
pretty staunch friends," she said desperately. She took courage in both
hands. "He told me how fond he had become of you lately."
"Mr. Power is a poor sort of feller to go running about with tales."
The insult brought speech crowding into her mouth. "When you know Mr.
Power a little better you will find him to be no very expert merchant
of stories. Friend to friend is an honest enough matter. And as a
matter of fact----" She stopped. She had not courage to say she had
been her own bloodhound.
"Well, and what about it?"
"I suppose there's not much to say about it, is there, since it's no
affair of mine? But I hear my friend has little enough to be glad over,
for it seems you don't care much for him. I'm his friend, and so I'm
sorry. That's all."
"He thinks that, do he?"
"And is it true?"
"That's my business, isn't it?"
"It's nobody's business that I have ever heard to let a man make
himself miserable, and for his pains give him neither no or yes."
"A girl don't always ask a man to come crying after her. You don't
expect a girl to nurse every man that runs at her skirt."
"There is such a thing as kindness."
Moll Gregory shrugged her shoulders.
"Don't think Mr. Power sent me here to plead for him. He can look after
himself in most cases I have found. But I am so great a friend of his
that it distresses me to see him so unhappy. The quicker he is sent
about his business the sooner he will find cure. I hate to interfere;
but it was for old acquaintance sake I came along to-day to ask you to
help me put things into better shape. I tell you Mr. Power is a changed
man this last month. It hurts me keenly to see him come to this."
"I will tell him the worry he's givin' you."
"You must never say a word about this visit."
"Why not? You are a kind friend."
"You must not say one word."
"Not say Miss Neville called? The Miss Neville as was going to marry
him."
She could have cried aloud at the hurt, and the next moment a cold
courage possessed her. "You cannot hurt me like that," she said in a
level voice, "and I have done my best to take care of your feelings.
True, I am engaged to Mr. Power, and we should have been married had he
not become fond of you. I have spent a good many unhappy hours lately,
as no doubt you suppose; but no anxieties of my own would have brought
me here to haggle and bargain. That might have happened when I lost my
head in the beginning; but I have had long enough to look things in the
face and accept what must be. Understand me then, I am still fond of
Mr. Power in spite of what has happened and I want to do what I can to
help. If you have ever loved a man, you will believe me. If you don't
know what love is, you will have to think as you like, and I suppose I
shall be none the worse or better for the verdict."
"There's others have been in love besides you, Miss Neville. There's
others have had their kisses."
"Kisses! I mean something more than kisses. When you are older you
won't weigh love by kisses. You will find love grows deeper down than
the kisses that stop in the doorway of your mouth. You will find love
sending you on errands like this one I am come on to-day, and you will
be grateful enough to run them, though all you buy is rudeness and
scorn. Love is a queer plant when you sow it properly. It makes shade
for some one man, and you find yourself glad to sit in the open and
watch it grow. Come, I am talking wildly again."
"Have him if he's to be got. I'm not breaking my heart what comes."
"Don't let us quarrel. I know you've not asked for my visit. I shall be
glad enough to find it done; but we have come together, and let us see
together a little while. I have made a bad beginning. I meant to speak
gently."
Moll Gregory turned away impatiently. It seemed they had come to a
deadlock; but help was at hand. There were the sounds of steps, and a
man of moulting appearance with tools upon his shoulder came out of the
trees towards the hut. He was passing out of their direction, but he
threw a glance over his shoulder before going far on the way. He saw
them at once, and stopped.
"Hullo, Moll, gel, out of doors? And a visitor, too. Why, it's Miss
Neville from Surprise." He came across at a clumsy, fawning run. "It's
Miss Neville, and I'm very pleased to meet you. You may have heard of
me from the old gentleman your father. As nice an old gentleman as one
would meet in a day's work. Miss Neville, to be sure, doin' us this
honour. Miss Neville come our way." A dirty hand was pushed forward.
Gregory began to hump his shoulders, pluck his beard and swell his
chest. "Well, Miss Neville, and what can have brought you all this way
in the heat?"
"I was passing and thought it looked cool among the trees. But I must
be away again. I've rested long enough."
Maud moved towards the horse; but Gregory became more friendly. "You
won't be gettin' back yet, Miss Neville? Oh, no, Miss Neville, we can't
let you go. The missis is inside there. Moll here can get tea going in
a minute. Mother! Are you there?"
The woman came out of the house, and stared in their direction.
"Miss Neville from Surprise has come our way. You can give her a taste
of tea, can't yer? Come inside, Miss Neville. Yes, we folk will be in a
bad way when we have no seat for Miss Neville. A-haw, haw, haw! A-haw,
haw, he, haw!"
"No thanks, I'm sorry. I must be going at once. If I am round these
parts again I won't forget to call and find out who is at home. I must
be going at once. I'm sorry to look so rude."
"Come, Miss Neville, it's not many visitors ride our way. We've not
much to offer, but its our best when you comes. The show has gone down
into a hundred foot of rock, and storekeepers aren't too flash with
tick just now. But there's always our best for Miss Neville."
There seemed a press about the horse, but Maud was firm in purpose and
mounted. She hated the greedy face of the man. She liked no better
the lovely features of the girl. She was in a rage with herself for
considering the undertaking. The man and the woman in the doorway of
the hut were exchanging glances at her back.
"Good-bye," she said, as she drew together the reins. "You mustn't
think me rude, but I have to get along."
She would have walked over the man had he not stepped out of the way.