Jimmy gave her the pouch and she went off. He was puzzled and rather
annoyed, but somehow he could not get on his feet. By and by Margaret
came back, carrying the pouch opened like a double cup. Jimmy drank some
water and the numbness began to go.
"You're very kind. I expect I'm ridiculous," he said.
"I was not kind. I let you carry the pack, although the cayuse knocked
you down."
"Perhaps the knock accounts for something," Jimmy remarked in a languid
voice.
He had got a nasty knock, but he imagined Stannard's cigars and
Deering's iced drinks were really accountable. In the meantime, he noted
that Margaret was wiping his tobacco pouch.
"You mustn't bother," he resumed. "Give me the thing."
"But when it's wet you cannot put in the tobacco."
"I thought you threw away the stuff. I can get another lot at the
hotel."
Margaret brushed the tobacco from a flake of bark, and filled the pouch.
"In the woods, one doesn't throw away expensive tobacco."
"Thanks!" said Jimmy. "Some time since, I lived with people like you."
"Poor and frugal people?"
"No," said Jimmy, with a twinkle. "Dick and his wife were rather rich.
In fact, in England, I think you begin to use economy when you get rich.
Anyhow, it's not important, and you needn't bother about me. As a rule,
philosophizing doesn't knock me out. The cayuse kicked pretty hard.
Well, suppose we start?"
He got up and when Margaret tried to take the pack he pulled it away.
"The job's mine. I undertook to carry the load."
"But you're tired, and I think you're lame."
"We won't dispute," said Jimmy. "You oughtn't to dispute. Perhaps it's
strange, but one feels your word ought to go."
"It looks as if my word did not go."
"Oh, well," said Jimmy, "when you command people, you have got to use
some caution. Much depends on whom you command, and in Lancashire we're
an obstinate lot. Anyhow, I'll take the bag."
He pushed his arms through the straps and Margaret said nothing. She
might have taken the bag from him, but to use force was not dignified
and she knew to let her carry the load would jar. When they set off she
noted that his face was rather white and his step was not even. He had
obviously got a nasty kick, but his pluck was good.
The sun went down behind the woods, the pines got dim and sweet resinous
scents floated about the trail. The hum of insects came out of the
shadow, and Jimmy was forced to rub the mosquitoes from his neck. To put
up his hands was awkward, for the ground was uneven, and he must balance
his load. He could not talk, the important thing was to reach the ranch
before it got dark, and setting his mouth, he pushed ahead.
At length Margaret stopped at a fence, and when she began to pull down
the rails Jimmy leaned against a post. The rails were rudely split, and
the zig-zag fence was locked by crossed supports and not fastened by
nails. On the other side, where timothy grass and oats had grown, was
stubble, dotted by tall stumps and fern. A belt of chopped trees
surrounded the clearing, and behind the tangled belt the forest rose
like a dark wall. An indistinct log house and barns occupied the other
end. An owl swooped noiselessly across the fence, and Jimmy heard the
distant howl of a timber wolf.
"Kelshope ranch," said Margaret. "The path goes to the house. I must put
up the rails."
Jimmy went through the gap. Perhaps it was soothing quietness, but he
felt he liked Kelshope and his curiosity was excited. He knew the big
Canadian hotels, the pullmans and observation-cars. So far, money had
supplied him, as in London, with much that made life smooth. Now he was
to see something of the Canada in which man must labor for all he gets.
The strange thing was, he felt this was the Canada he really ought to
know.