"I have played up. Perhaps it's strange, but in the woods to be content
because we were pals was not hard. Now we'll soon reach your cousin's,
I'm not content, and one is forced to think----"
"For a time you must think about beating the police; that's all," said
Margaret firmly.
"It is not all," Jimmy declared. "When we went up the hill in the
evening, I asked you to marry me and you promised----"
"I promised we would talk about it," said Margaret. "Before you start
from Peter's we will do so; but since you must start soon, we'll go on."
Jimmy saw he could not move her, and they went down the hill. At the
ranch fence a man met them and took them to the house. When they went in
a woman got up, kissed Margaret, and gave Jimmy a smile. So far as he
could see, Mrs. Jardine and her husband did not think it strange he had
arrived with Margaret, and he was somewhat comforted, although he noted
that Margaret's color rose. Margaret knew her relations. They were
primitive, honest folk, and took it for granted Jimmy was her lover.
"Sit right down. Dinner will soon be ready," said Peter Jardine. "How's
the old man? Give us your news."
Jimmy narrated his and Margaret's adventures and, until he stopped, his
hosts said nothing. It did not look as if they were disturbed, but they
were bush folk and the bush is quiet. For all that, Jimmy felt they
owned themselves Margaret's relations and for her sake were willing to
help him out.
"The trapper's old shack is the spot for you," Peter remarked. "After
dinner we'll start. Margaret must stay with us."
Margaret agreed, but Jimmy objected.
"Margaret is going with me to the Mission. The police will soon arrive."
"I reckon they don't know her, and they don't know how many womenfolk
I've got. When she puts on Sadie's clothes, she'll look as if she
belonged to the ranch. Maybe the police haven't found your trail; but we
mustn't bet on that."
Margaret went off with Sadie and Jimmy speculated about their talk. By
and by he turned to his host.
"I'm going to marry your cousin when she is willing."
"Sure," said Peter. "You reckoned to get married at the Mission?"
"That is so. So far, Margaret refuses."
Peter knitted his brows. "Sometimes I don't see what Sadie gets after
and I sure can't calculate Margaret's notion. Women beat me. All the
same, it's plain she thinks you a white man, and Margaret's not a fool.
Now we'll let it go. Say, did you plug the warden?"
"It looks like that," Jimmy replied. "However, if I did hit the fellow,
I didn't know I was shooting at a man."
"Very well! You can't get down the main track to the coast, because the
police will reckon on your going there and watch the stations. I'd make
for the plains and then shove south for Montana."
"That was Stannard's plan."
Peter smiled scornfully. "You were to cross the rocks and carry your
grub and camping truck? Shucks! An old-time prospector might make it;
you could not. You've got to lie up at the trapper's shack until we look
about. Maybe we can fix it to ship you out of the mountains on board a
construction train that sometimes runs down to a station on the Calgary
side. Well, let's make our packs and catch the horse."
They got to work and after the horse was caught, Peter turned back to
the house, but Jimmy stopped. "I must talk to Margaret for a few
minutes," he said.
Margaret came out to him. Her look was quiet but he knew her resolute.
"When dinner's over, Peter and I must start," he said. "You refused to
go to the Mission. I want to know what this implies."
Margaret gave him a level glance. "Isn't it plain, Jimmy? You know my
father, and now you have met my relations. They are not your sort."
"So far as I know, they're a remarkably good sort," Jimmy rejoined.
"Besides, in a way, I am their sort. My grandfather was a mill hand; my
father borrowed a small sum, and started with cheap machinery to spin
cotton at a little old-fashioned mill. He was frugal and laborious; in
fact, he prospered because he had your bushman's qualities. I have
loafed and squandered, but after a time I felt I'd had enough and began
to see I'd inherited something from the people who made Leyland's go.
Then, if we must talk about our relations, you don't know my uncle Dick.
Well, I've stated something like this before, but it's my reply to your
argument."
"But you mean to go back to Lancashire, and when you marry your wife
ought----"
"To begin with, I doubt if the police will allow me to go back. Then, if
I can't get you, I don't want a wife!"
"Yet, not very long since, it looked as if you might be satisfied with
Miss Stannard."
The blood came to Jimmy's skin, and to conquer his embarrassment was
hard.
"I don't think you're kind. Well, I'm young and, until I met Stannard, I
was very raw. All I knew was the cotton mill, and I expect Laura
carried me away. But I was not altogether a fool; Laura Stannard is a
charming girl. The obstacle was, she saw I was not the man for her. Then
I did not know you."
Margaret smiled, but her smile was gentle. "Perhaps I was not kind.
You're stanch and my experiment was shabby."
"Your remark was justified. Anyhow, it's not important. If I can cheat
the police and get back to Lancashire, will you marry me, Margaret?"
For a few moments Margaret was quiet. Then she said in a steady voice:
"Your cheating the police would not persuade me; in fact, somehow I
think they will find out you had nothing to do with the warden's getting
shot. The obstacle's not there. You are young, Jimmy, and you admitted
you were carried away."
"One cannot carry you away," Jimmy rejoined.
"I must think for you and for myself," said Margaret and Jimmy's heart
beat, because he saw her calm was forced. "Suppose your trustees did not
approve your marrying a girl from the bush?"
"Dick Leyland might not approve; his habit's to be nasty, but mine's not
to bother about Dick. Sir Jim is head of the house and he's human. I
can't picture his not being altogether satisfied with you."
"But you don't know!"
Jimmy pondered. Margaret's firmness baffled him, but, from her point of
view, he saw she took the proper line. All the same, it cost her
something; she was highly strung, her color came and went, and her
tight mouth was significant. The trouble was, he dared not urge her very
hard. In the meantime, he must hide from the police and might be sent to
the chain-gang.
"I want you, my dear," he said. "I'm selfish. If you marry me, I run no
risk, but you may run some. My drawbacks are rather numerous,
particularly just now."
"Very well," said Margaret. "When you come back from the mountains, I
may perhaps agree. But your relations must approve and I don't yet
engage----"
Jimmy advanced, but she stepped back and stopped him. Then he turned and
saw Mrs. Jardine wave to them from the stoop.
Dinner was a melancholy function, and Jimmy thought his hosts disturbed.
They were Margaret's relations and for her sake were willing to help,
but he pictured Mrs. Jardine's weighing the risk. Then he was bothered
about Margaret, for Peter's confidence that his wife could bluff the
police if they arrived before he returned did not banish his doubts.
At length Mrs. Jardine got up and Peter and Jimmy went to load the
horse. By and by the rancher ran back for some tobacco and Jimmy moodily
fastened the pack-rope. Stooping by the horse, he thought he heard a
step, but did not look up, and a few moments afterwards he felt a hand
on his shoulder. Then an arm went around his neck and Margaret turned
his head and kissed him. He tried to seize her, but she slipped away
and stopped a yard or two off. Jimmy thrilled and his eyes sparkled.
"Now I know when I come back you won't refuse me."
"You don't know; I don't know," Margaret replied in a trembling voice.
"All the same, I love you, and you're going away----"
Peter and Mrs. Jardine came out. The rancher seized the bridle and
called to the horse. Jimmy lifted his battered hat and they started
across the clearing.
Three days afterwards, they stopped at a small stone hut, built against
the bottom of a great rock. On one side dark pines rolled up to the
walls, and a hundred yards off one could hardly see the pile of stones
was a building. Yet the small room was rudely furnished and the earth
floor was dry. They cut some wood, made a fire, and cooked food, and
after the meal lighted their pipes.
"You have got an ax and a rifle, but if you run out of grub, Graham, the
section-hand on the railroad will put me wise," said Peter. "Tom's a
white man and his post's not far from the spot we crossed the line. The
trapper who lived here is dead and I reckon nobody but Tom and me knows
about the shack."
"I expect I've got all I want, but I'm bothered about Margaret."
"You don't want to bother. In the meantime, Margaret's my wife's sister
from Calgary. That's good enough for the police, and anyhow the Royal
North-West aren't city patrolmen. They reckon they're highbrow frontier
cavalry and I guess the trooper won't allow a girl held him up. You'll
stay put, until we see if we can ship you out with the construction boys
to the Calgary side. If that plan won't go, we'll push across the range
for the big park valley and try to run you south. I think that's all;
but if you want to send a letter to your friends, Graham will mail it
for you."
After a time Peter knocked out his pipe and Jimmy went with him to the
door. When the rancher vanished in the woods and all was quiet Jimmy
leaned against the post and gave himself to gloomy thought.
It began to get dark. The snow-veined rocks melted in the mist and the
pines were vague and black. In the distance a timber wolf howled and the
long mournful note emphasized the dreariness. In the rocks where Jimmy
hid at the beginning he had Deering's society and at the ranch he had
Margaret's and Jardine's. Now he was altogether alone in the savage
wilds. Going back to the fire, he threw on fresh wood, and although he
was not keen about smoking, lighted his pipe.