CHAPTER XXV

ORMOND'S LAST JOURNEY

"Launch her down handy. Bring the sick man along!" called some one

outside; and when we carried Ormond out I saw the others running a big

Siwash canoe down over the shingle, and the dark pines rising spires of

solid blackness against the coming day. It was bitterly cold, and white

mist hung about them, while huge masses of rock rose through the smoke of

the river, whose clamor filled all the hollow. None of us quite liked the

task before us, for man's vigor is never at its highest in the chilly

dawn; but I remembered Ormond's eagerness to continue the journey. So we

laid him gently on our blankets in the waist, and thrust out the long and

beautifully modeled craft, which was of the type that the coastwise Siwash

use when hunting the fur seals. I knelt grasping the forward paddle until

Hector, who held the steering blade, said: "If ye'll follow my bidding

I'll land ye safe across. Together! Lift her all!"

The light shell surged forward to the sturdy stroke, for several of those

behind me were masters of the paddle, and as I plied my blade I felt with

a thrill that it was good to fight the might of the river in such a

company. Snowy wreaths boiled high about the shearing prow, I could hear

the others catch their breath with a hiss, and once more after a heavy

thud the cedar floor seemed to raise itself beneath me and leap to the

impulse, while, with a hardening of every muscle, I swept the leaf-shaped

blade outward ready for the dip. There was spray in my eyes, and bearing

down on us through it a boulder, with dim trunks opening and closing

beyond; then I saw only the bird's head on the prow, for some one cried

behind that my stroke was slow, and by the rush of foam and the shock of

thudding blow I knew that the others' blades were whirling like flails.

The rock loomed nearer, the river piled against its battered feet, and I

hazarded a glance over my shoulder, which showed me a row of set faces

turned toward the bow, with stout arms and the flats of redwood blades

swung out before them, until with a swing of shoulders the heads went

down, and a white wave burst apart before the stern. Looking forward the

next instant I saw that the rock lay right athwart our way; but the others

had blind confidence in our pilot.

"Back ye on the up-stream; drive her yere hardest, down!" he called.

Then the current strove to wrest my dipped blade away, as with the paddles

on one side held fast by sinewy wrists the craft turned as on a pivot, and

lurching on the backwash whirled past the stone, after which the cry was:

"Drive her all!" and we shot away on the eddy with our faces turned

slantwise up-stream. This was well, for close below the whole weight of

the current hurled itself in fury upon a ragged barrier, and I understood

that Hector had calculated our impetus to a quarter fathom. There was a

fight to reach the landing, and with any other than the crew behind me the

river might have won; but four of the lean hard men had fought many such

battles, and though the trunks raced up-stream we closed with the shore

until the shock of the bows on shingle flung me backward.

Our next proceeding was to portage a smaller craft several hundred yards

up the river, for Hector to make the return passage, and then, as we

thanked him for the food and the small comforts for Ormond that he forced

on us, the old man said:

"Ye're very welcome, an' I'm not wanting yere dollars. Will I take payment

for a bit of dried venison, when the Almighty freely gives me all the good

fish in the river an' the deer in the woods? Go, an' haste ye; yon man is

needing the aid of science."

Then he turned away, and watched us from the shingle as we took up

Ormond's litter, and the last that we ever saw of him was a tall lonely

figure which vanished into the gray smoke of the river as we plodded up

the climbing trail. Still, even now, that lonely figure rises up before

me.

"Old Hector tells strange things when the fit takes him. Used to speak our

language--it's curious, he talks like some of them emigrants from the old

country now," a man beside me said. "But you can stake your last dollar he

isn't mad. No, sir, it's quaint he is. I've had my voyageur training in

the frozen country under the H. B. C, but when it's dead knowledge of a

rapid he'll beat me easy. Some day the river will get him, and then we'll

miss him bad."

In due time we reached a shingle-roofed settlement, where a man who had

some local reputation for skill in healing horses examined our companion.

"He's pretty well played out," he said. "Ship him straight down to

Vancouver in a sleeping-car, and don't you let any of them bush-doctors

get their claws on him. I know when a job's too big for me, and this is

one. You'll fetch up in time for the Pacific mail if you start now in a

wagon."

"What did that fellow say?" asked Ormond, and when I judiciously modified

the horse-doctor's verdict he smiled understandingly.

"That's a wise man," he said, "and I can guess what he told you. Lorimer,

I know I'm sinking fast, and if you leave me here I'll die before you can

send a doctor up. Probably I'll also die in Vancouver, but every man is

justified in making a fight for his life--and there's another reason why I

should get there first."

We hired a light wagon, for a passable trail led to the railroad, and

perhaps because time was scanty, or the jolting of the wagon was more

trying than the swing of the litter, our patient grew worse, and I was

thankful at last to see him safe in a berth of the sleeper on the Pacific

express. I had grown almost as impatient as Ormond, and I recollect

nothing of the journey except that when the lights of Port Moody glittered

across the forest-shrouded inlet he said: "Lorimer, I've a stupid

prejudice against a hospital. Please take me to Wilson's instead. He lives

alone, and I did him several services--you can tell him that it will not

be for long."

So when we reached the station Harry volunteered to find the best doctor

in the timber city--for hewn stone had only begun to replace sawn lumber

then--and arrange for transit to Wilson's house; because he said that it

was my particular duty to tell Colonel Carrington and Grace. An hour

passed before I traced them, and then I found them at a function given to

celebrate the starting of some new public enterprise, and it was with

hesitation that, followed by Calvert, I entered the vestibule of the

brilliantly lighted hall. We gave a message to a bland Chinese attendant,

and waited until returning he beckoned us through a crimson curtain, which

swung to behind, and I found myself standing bewildered under a blaze of

light in a ball-room.

There was a crash of music, a swishing of colored dresses, and then, as

the orchestra ceased, we stood before the astonished assembly just as we

had left the bush, in tattered fur wrappings and torn deerskin, with the

stains of leagues of travel on our leggings, while I recollect that a

creeper-spike on my heel made holes in the polished marquetry. All eyes

were turned toward us.

"This is considerably more than I bargained for," growled Calvert. "I feel

guiltily like the man who brought the news to Edinburgh after Flodden.

What did you play this confounded trick upon us for, John?"

"John savvy Miss Callington," said the unblushing Mongolian; and Calvert

added savagely:

"Then hide us somewhere, and tell her, before I twist your heathen neck

for you."

I noticed Martin Lorimer moving toward me; but before he reached us Grace

came up, a dazzling vision of beauty.

"I am thankful to see you back safe, Ralph, and hear you have news for

me," she said. "Lawrence Calvert, the same applies to you."

It was bravely done, for few women would have cared to link themselves

publicly with such a gaunt and tattered scarecrow as I undoubtedly was

then; but Grace was born with high courage and a manner which made all she

did appear right. When Calvert said that he would send for Colonel

Carrington, she calmly placed her hand within my arm, and added:

"We will find quietness yonder in the empty supper-room. You have made me

anxious."

Then, doubtless to the wonder of many citizens' daughters and wives, we

passed together, a sufficiently striking couple, across the hall; and when

at length we escaped the curious eyes, Grace held me back at arm's

length.

"You look thin and haggard, Ralph," she said. "Something has happened. Now

begin, and tell me clearly all about it."

I did not know how to commence, and I proceeded awkwardly to temporize,

though I really meant what I said.

"It was the fault of that stupid Chinaman, Grace, and I am sorry. It was

so courageous of you to come to me before them all."

She looked at me with a curious mingling of pride and humor. "Am I, then,

so little as to fear a few inquisitive women? And do you fancy that I

loved you for your prepossessing exterior? Now, sir, before you offend me

further, at once begin."

I placed a lounge for her, and leaned over it as I said, "It is about

Geoffrey. We went up prospecting, and found his party in difficulties.

Geoffrey is--"

"Not dead!" she said with a shudder, clutching the arms of the chair. And

I laid my hand soothingly on one of hers as I answered:

"No, but he is hurt, and he is longing to see you. He is in Vancouver now.

Listen, I will tell you about it."

"Poor Geoffrey!" she said when I had finished, while a tear glistened on

her long lashes. "Geoffrey, my old playmate! I can hardly believe it.

Ralph, there are very few like him. He is in all things a true-hearted

gentleman. He stood between us; but how many others would have played

their part so chivalrously when he had the power through my father to

force me to his will. And--may I be forgiven for it--more than once I had

hard thoughts of him. And now he is dying! Take me at once to see him."

Shortly afterward a voice reached us through an open door. It was

Calvert's, saying, "I want you to understand, sir, that if we had not

struck Lorimer's camp we should have starved to death. I saw the accident

from a distance, and again it's my firm opinion that he ran the utmost

risk to extricate Ormond. If the latter were my own brother I should

consider myself indebted to him for life."

"I am glad to hear it," answered an unseen person, whom it was easy to

recognize as the footsteps drew nearer. "Still, one must take precautions;

and, as I observed, in the circumstances some people might have

suspicions. I may say that, indirectly, Lorimer knew that he would profit

by my partner's death."

I started, and would have risen, burning with wrath, but Grace's clasp

held me fast. The next moment her father and Calvert entered the room. The

former glanced toward us in cold surprise; and then, in a hard, ringing

tone, Grace said:

"There is still, I hope, a little charity left in the world. The reference

is hardly becoming. There are others beside Mr. Lorimer who would benefit,

directly, by Geoffrey Ormond's death."

I would have spoken, but she prevented me; and her father stood for a

moment speechless with astonishment. Grace was a dutiful daughter, and,

though he must have tried her patience hardly now and then, I fancied that

this was the first time she had ever openly defied him; while I saw that

the shaft had gone home. Colonel Carrington was not, however, to be shaken

into any exhibition of feeling, for he turned to me with his usual

chilliness:

"I congratulate you on your lucky escape," he said. "Calvert has told me.

If you are quite ready, Grace, and will get on your wrappings, we will

drive over and visit the sick man immediately."

So, seeing that my presence was by no means desired, I saluted the Colonel

with stiffness, and hurried on foot in the direction of Wilson's house. He

was a bachelor, it appeared, who dealt in mining gear, and during their

business intercourse had made friends with Ormond. Now he was absent

inland, but his housekeeper had placed the pretty wooden dwelling at our

patient's disposal. What passed between the latter and Colonel Carrington

I do not know, but when Grace met me on the stairway as I entered she

said:

"He told us how much you had done for him, and made my father believe it

even against his will."

Presently the surgeon came down.

"I can do little for him," he said. "There are internal injuries--I

needn't describe them--which practically leave no hope of recovery. You

can't get a trained woman nurse for love or money, and it rests between

yourselves and a Chinaman. I fancy that he would prefer you. I don't know

how he stood the journey."

"We did our best, and he was very patient," I said. And the surgeon

answered:

"I have no doubt you did, and it speaks well for your comrade's fortitude.

You need not blame yourselves, however, for from the first he could not

have got better."

"I'll take first watch," said Harry, when, after giving us full

instructions, the surgeon departed. "Miss Carrington has already insisted

on helping. I've sampled Wilson's wardrobe, but his things would split up

if you tried to get into them. Go out and borrow or buy some anywhere. You

can't expect to meet Miss Carrington in that most fantastic disarray. I've

taken quarters at the Burrard House, and it's not your turn until

to-morrow. The Colonel has graciously signified his approval of our

arrangements."

When my watch commenced the next day Ormond seemed pleased to see me, and

Grace, who was spreading southern flowers in the room, withdrew. Then

Calvert and Colonel Carrington came in with a lawyer, and I raised Ormond

so that he could see them. Outside, and not far below the window, bright

sunlight beat down upon the sparkling inlet, and across it the mountains

rose in a giant wall. Ormond glanced at them and sighed. Then he said with

slow distinctness:

"Put it down in your own fashion. This is the gist of it: I, Geoffrey

Ormond, being now at least perfectly sound in mind, bequeath my gray

horse at Day Spring, all my guns and rifles, with my silver harness and

two pedigree hunters at Carrington, to Ralph Lorimer, in token of

friendship and gratitude for a courageous attempt at my rescue when by

accident I fell from a rock. I especially desire this inserted, Mr.

Solicitor. You quite understand what I am saying, Colonel Carrington?"

There was a significant smile in his eyes as they met mine, and something

rose in my throat threatening to choke me when he added aside: "You will

accept these things as a memento of our last march, I hope? With this

exception, I bequeath my property in stocks and lands of all and every

kind--I do not enumerate, or appoint other executor--to Colonel Carrington

of Carrington Manor, the balance remaining after his death to revert to

his daughter Grace. Set it all out in due form, and give me the paper to

sign."

Remembering what Grace once told me I fancied that an expression of

unutterable relief smoothed out the wrinkles of anxiety on the legatee's

brow, but I may have been mistaken in this. There was a curious look in

Ormond's face, and I understood the depth of his loyalty to Grace. It

struck me with a shock that Ormond, in spite of his apparent carelessness,

realized how far matters had drifted, and hoped to spare her the painful

discovery. Then he lay back struggling for breath, when, after the will

was signed, at a signal from the doctor the others withdrew. Perhaps an

hour passed while I kept watch alone before he spoke again, saying very

faintly:

"It's strange, Lorimer, that circumstances should constitute you my

protector. It's not the usual ending of a very old story. A rich man and a

poor man loved the same woman, and--this is where the strangeness happens,

perhaps because of all women she was most worthy to be loved--she looked

kindly upon the poorer man. The other had all that fortune could give him

save what he most desired, and being older he waited patiently, trusting

her heart would turn toward him, and when at last he learned the truth he

had not courage to give her up, but waited still, hoping, he hardly knew

for what, against hope. Then circumstances held them closer together in a

bond that even for her sake he dare not break, until at last the knot was

cut. Lorimer, we fought it out fairly, you and I. Now you have won, and I

am dying. I only ask you to be good to her."

I turned my head aside, for I could say nothing appropriate, and he

added:

"I should like you to keep those rifles, and when some day Grace receives

the reversion she will find it but little. We made some heavy losses in

joint ventures, her father and I--you will tell her to remember that. I

think now all is settled. God bless her!"

He slept or lay quite still for some time, and once more, knowing what I

knew, I wondered at the greatness of his nature, for it was evident that,

realizing that his love was hopeless, he had stood by her father only to

serve her. Then he said feebly:

"Lift me a little, Lorimer, so that I can see the moonrise on the snow.

Before another nightfall I shall have followed your partner on the unknown

trail."

I raised him on the pillows, and then sat by the window, from

which--because the lamp that tired his eyes had been turned very low--I

could see the shimmer of stars on the dark breast of the inlet, which was

wrapped in shadow, and a broad band of silver radiance grow wider across

the heights of snow, until Grace came in softly with more blossoms from

sunny Mexico.

Ormond saw her, and he had probably forgotten me, for there was a great

longing in his voice as he said huskily: "Will you kiss me, Grace, for

the first and last time since we were innocent children?"

She bent over him a compassionate figure, etherealized by the pale light

that touched her through the eastern window, and I went out and waited on

the stairway until, after the surgeon went in, she passed me, sobbing, and

stilled an expression of sympathy with a lifted hand. That was the last I

saw of Geoffrey Ormond in this life, for when next I looked at him he lay

very white and still with the seal of death upon him, and I knew that a

very clean and chivalrous soul had gone to its resting-place. I touched

his cold forehead reverently, and then turned away, mourning him, heaven

knows, sincerely, and feeling thankful that when tempted sorely I had kept

my promise that day in the bush as I remembered his words, "We have fought

it out fairly."

Lorimer of the Northwest · 第 25 / 33 章