THE BROKEN RANGE
The fortnight Agatha agreed to had nearly gone when, early one morning,
Thirlwell and Drummond climbed a hill behind the camp and stood on the
summit, looking about. Thin mist drifted across the low ground in front,
but some miles off a forest-covered ridge rose against the sky. It was
hardly a range of hills, but rather what prospectors call a height of
land; a moderately elevated watershed marking off two river basins.
Running roughly east and west as far as he could see, it limited
Thirlwell's view and had puzzled him for some days.
Since the rivers that drained the country flowed northeast to Hudson
Bay, it was obvious that there must be an opening in the ridge, but he
had been unable to find one. Moreover, as Strange's creek ran south
before it turned east, he imagined it was on his side of the heighth of
land, but he had seen no stream flowing in either direction. Strange's
notes were incomplete; and although Thirlwell calculated that he was
about thirty miles from the spot where the ore outcropped, he had found
none of the landmarks. The creek was not behind him, but a radius of
thirty miles would cover a wide belt of country, and he doubted if he
could persuade Agatha to extend the fortnight. Her obstinacy was
ridiculous, but must be reckoned on.
By and by a faint breeze sprang up and the mist rolled back. Here and
there a lake sparkled in the light of the rising sun and dark pines rose
out of the streaming vapor. But there was no glistening thread to
indicate a creek, and Thirlwell turned to Drummond with an impatient
frown.
"Do you see anything that you think you ought to recognize?"
"No," said Drummond, rather sulkily, "I don't."
"You haven't been of much use to us yet! I think you stated that when
you got here you'd recollect all your father told you about Strange's
talk. Seeing the places would bring things back!"
"I haven't seen the places, and the old man was very sick when he told
me. Anyhow, I've tracked your blamed canoes, and packed your stores
across the divides. Guess I'd have hit the back trail long since if it
wasn't for Miss Strange."
"Then we had better get down," said Thirlwell. "The boys don't seem to
have started to cook breakfast, and I want to pull out soon."
He was turning away when Drummond stopped him, stretching out his arm.
"Hold on! What's that yonder?"
"Mist," said Thirlwell, impatiently.
"No; it's too dark. Look again!"
Thirlwell started. The mist was drifting past the detached clump of
pines his companion indicated, but its color was silvery, and he now
noted a faint blue streak. This was something of a shock, for he had
thought there was nobody but his party in the neighborhood.
"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "Go down as fast as you can and tell the boys not
to make a fire."
When Drummond went off Thirlwell sat down and watched the smoke. It got
plainer, and rose in a thick blue cloud when the mist rolled away.
Somebody was cooking breakfast and the volume of smoke indicated a large
fire. It looked as if there were a number of men to be fed, and
Thirlwell had not expected to find Indians near the spot just then.
After a time, the smoke died away and he went back to camp, but told
Agatha nothing about what he had seen. When breakfast was over he took
one of the _Metis_ and plunged into the bush. There was not much need
for caution, because the party would, no doubt, set off when they had
finished their meal, and if they were Indians, it did not matter if he
met them. But he did not think they were Indians.
When he had gone a mile or two, he stopped at the edge of a muskeg and
sent the _Metis_ on to a clump of pines on the other side. The man,
keeping in the shadow, stole round the swamp, and vanished noiselessly
in the underbrush. After a time, he reappeared, beckoning, and Thirlwell
knitted his brows when he joined him.
The ashes of a fire smoldered between two hearth-logs; white chips and
broken branches were scattered about. Near his feet were six small round
holes, spaced in a regular pattern, and a cotton flour-bag and some
empty cans lay beneath a bush.
"A white man's camp; they had a tent," he said.
"Sure," agreed the _Metis_. "Teepee poles they not mak' hole lak' dat."
"Well, I reckon a sour-dough prospector wouldn't have bothered about a
tent. Looks as if one of them was a tenderfoot. _Qu'en pense-tu?_"
The _Metis'_ keen eyes had wandered round the camp and he nodded. "But,
yes! Dat man _sait vivre_; he lak' it comfortable."
"A city man!" Thirlwell remarked, with a frown. How many packers?"
"_Quat_," said the _Metis_.
"_Voyageurs?_"
The _Metis_ laughed scornfully as he indicated the trampled brush,
broken branches, greasy papers, and scraps of food. "Me, I think no!
Railroad outfit. _Voyageur_ not muss up camp lak' dat."
Thirlwell agreed. A half-breed _voyageur_ does not waste food, and with
inherited caution seldom disturbs the bush. It looked as if the city man
had engaged a gang of track-layers, who are used to pioneering and
sometimes carry surveyors' stores through the wilds.
"Well," he said, "we'll follow their trail."
The party had obviously left the water for a time, because their track
led away from the creek in the valley and the bush was too thick to
permit the portaging of canoes. Thirlwell followed the trail until he
satisfied himself that they were going east, and then went back to his
camp. Finding Agatha at the water's edge he sat down opposite.
"I'm afraid you didn't get much breakfast, but I didn't want the fire
lighted," he said, and told her what he had seen.
"Ah!" she cried. "Do you think Stormont is looking for the ore?"
"I think so; I'm not certain."
"But he failed to find it once and nearly starved."
Thirlwell smiled. "I understand the fellow's obstinate. He may have got
a fresh clue or found out something we don't know."
"Do you think he has been following us?"
"I don't. If he'd known we were in the neighborhood, he would not have
lighted a fire."
"After all," said Agatha thoughtfully, "my father stated that he had
staked the claim."
"I'm afraid that doesn't count for much. You're not recognized as
prospective owner until your record's filed. I imagine your father's
statement would carry some weight, but going to law about a mine is
generally an expensive job, and it's hard to put up a good fight against
a man with capital."
"Then what are you going to do about it?" Agatha asked anxiously.
"Get away from here at once, and as far as possible keep to the lakes;
water carries no trail. Then Stormont has decided a point that has been
bothering me--since he's gone east, we must go north or west."
"Yes. Unless it's possible that his clue is better than ours."
"I thought about that," Thirlwell replied. "We don't know if he has a
clue, but we'll stick to ours and take the risk. Your father's
directions are plain enough if we can find the first of his landmarks."
"Then go west," said Agatha. "I imagine the creek is on this side of the
range."
Thirlwell got up and went to see the canoes launched, but he wondered
whether Agatha remembered that there were only two or three days of the
fortnight left. He thought she did remember, but he resolved that they
would not turn back.
Soon after they started, a fresh breeze sprang up from the north-west
and the shadows of flying clouds sped across the lake. The sky between
the clouds was a curious vivid blue, the light was strong, and the woods
along the bank flashed into bright color and faded to somber green as
the gleams of sunshine passed. For a few minutes, trunks and branches
stood out, sharply distinct, and then melted suddenly into their
background. By degrees the ripples that lined the lake got larger; there
was an angry splashing at the bows of the canoes, and little showers of
spray began to fly.
"This clearness means the wind will hold and it's right ahead,"
Thirlwell said to Agatha, "We haven't had much luck of late!"
"The luck will change," she answered, smiling. "I am confident."
"Confidence doesn't cost you much effort," Thirlwell rejoined. "You were
persuaded from the beginning that you would find the ore. It looks as if
you were naturally optimistic."
"Oh, no! I had my weak moments when I wanted to shirk. I hated to feel I
wasn't free like other people, and was willing to throw away my chance
of getting rich. But that wouldn't have helped much; I couldn't get rid
of the duty."
"You have pluck. For all that, I think you're indulging a rather
exaggerated sentiment. Anyhow, it's hard to imagine you have had many
doubts since we left the mine."
"I've had none. When you found the tobacco-box I knew I would succeed.
There was something strangely significant about your finding it."
"I happened to look in the right place," said Thirlwell, dryly.
Agatha laughed. "You take a very matter-of-fact view."
"Perhaps so," Thirlwell agreed. "If I were steeped in sentiment, it
wouldn't help me drive the canoe faster against a head-wind or carry a
heavier load across a portage. That's a purely mechanical proposition.
In the meantime, we're slowing up and will soon begin to drift astern."
"Then paddle," said Agatha, smiling. "After all, you're much more of a
sentimentalist than I think you know."
Thirlwell bent over his paddle and the canoe forged ahead, but the
breeze freshened, and the ripples changed to crested waves. Agatha's
face was wet, her slicker dripped, and the men breathed hard between the
strokes. They labored on, and at noon ran the canoes aground in the lee
of a rocky island. Thirlwell ordered the _Metis_ to use nothing but dry
driftwood, which makes little smoke, for the fire, and when they rested
after a meal found Drummond sitting alone outside the camp. He looked
moody and his eyes were fixed on the height of land.
"Feeling bothered about something?" Thirlwell asked.
"Yes," said Drummond. "I'm trying to get back all the old man told me
about Strange's tale. He only talked about it once, when he was sick.
Looks as if he hadn't thought the lode a business proposition, and I
didn't _then_. Besides, I was anxious and didn't listen much. Part of it
came back afterwards, but not all. There's something I can't get."
"That's unlucky," Thirlwell remarked in a dry tone. "We need a hint."
"I reckoned I'd get it when I saw the country," Drummond went on. "I
allow we're not far enough yet."
Thirlwell made a sign of disagreement. "Strange said the creek ran south
and then turned east. I imagine there isn't another neighborhood where
that's likely to happen. If we cross the divide, I expect we'll find the
water running north."
"Well," said Drummond moodily, "you'd better leave me alone. There's
something--if I'm quiet, I may get what I'm feeling for." He knitted his
brows and a curious fixed look came into his eyes. "I know it's not far
off, but I miss it when I'm just getting on the track."
Thirlwell left him and smiled half impatiently as he went back across
the rocks. He had sometimes been puzzled, and sometimes amused, by
Agatha's confidence, and now Drummond, who had given him no help so far,
talked about an elusive clue. It looked as if both allowed their
imagination too much rein, and trusted to vague feelings instead of
their reasoning powers. Give him a compass bearing, or a definite
base-line to calculate an angle from, and he would engage to take the
party to the required spot; but he had frankly no use for the other
thing. Yet he sometimes wondered--there was a calm assurance in Agatha's
eyes. If this was not founded on superstition, from what did it spring?
They launched again in the afternoon, and reached the head of the lake
wet and tired. Thirlwell did not talk much after supper, but sat by the
fire, smoking, for some time after Agatha went to her tent. He had, in
fact, been rather silent for the last few days. Now they were near the
end of their journey he did not know if he wanted Agatha to find the
lode or not. When they started he had imagined that the search would
lead to nothing, and had gone because her society had a charm and he
wanted to free her mind of a dangerous illusion. But he could no longer
think the lode an illusion. The silver was there, and if one searched
long enough, could, no doubt, be found.
This was somehow disturbing, but with a half-conscious wish to shirk the
truth he would not inquire bluntly why it disturbed him. He wanted the
girl to be happy, and had thought it best for her that she should give
up the attempt to find the lode. Now he must readjust his views, and it
was hard to see what place there would be for him in her affairs if she
became the owner of a rich mining claim.
Next morning they made a difficult portage to another lake, and
launching the canoes at noon found the wind blowing fresh. The lake was
wide, and when by and by an angry sea got up Thirlwell reluctantly
steered for the shelter of a rocky point. They had covered very little
ground since they started, and there was only another day of the
fortnight left. After supper some of the men went fishing, and Drummond
set off alone along the beach, while Agatha and Thirlwell sat among the
rocks where the pungent wood-smoke drifted past and kept the mosquitoes
off. The sun had set and the air was very clear; they could see the
ragged pines across the lake, but the trees on the point behind them cut
off their view to the north.
Presently Drummond came back, running fast, and stopped in front of
Agatha. His eyes sparkled and the sweat ran down his face.
"What's the matter?" Thirlwell asked. "Have the timber wolves got after
you?"
"The _broken range_!" Drummond gasped. "Get up, Miss Strange, and come
right along!"
Agatha looked at Thirlwell, who smiled. "I don't know what he means, but
perhaps we had better go."
They followed the lad for some distance, though the shingle was large
and rough. Now and then he turned and looked back impatiently, as if
they were not coming fast enough; but at length he stopped and indicated
the high ground to the north. Its bold line, colored a soft blue, stood
out against the yellow sky, and in one place there was a sharply defined
gap.
"There!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "I guess that's the _broken range_!"
"I see the break," said Thirlwell. "What about it?"
"Don't embarrass him," Agatha interrupted. "It's something he remembers.
Perhaps his father talked about the gap."
"He did," said Drummond. "The thing's been kind of floating in my mind
all day, but I couldn't get it fixed. Then I saw that gap and knew I'd
got what I'd been feeling for."
"What did your father say?"
"The Indian camp he sent Strange to was in thin bush, close under the
broken range, on the north side."
Thirlwell turned to Agatha. "Then we oughtn't to have much trouble in
locating the ore. We know where the factory stood, and if we can find
the thin bush, I can follow the line your father took."
Agatha's eyes shone and her color came and went, but with an effort she
preserved her calm.
"After all, the bush may have grown."
"I think not," said Thirlwell. "It's probably rocky ground where the
trees are small."
"But how was it my father did not see the gap?"
"That is easily accounted for. The gap's not large, and I expect you can
only see it when you're directly opposite, at a right angle to the line
of the high ground. If you moved back a mile or two, the rocks and trees
would shut it in. Drummond didn't see it as we came up the lake."
"I suppose we must wait until to-morrow?"
"Yes," said Thirlwell. "We must leave the water, and can't get through
the bush in the dark."
Agatha made a sign of agreement. "Very well; I am glad the nights are
very short. But I would like to start at daybreak."
Then they turned and went back silently to camp. Thirlwell was conscious
of a keen disturbance that he would not analyze and saw that Agatha did
not want to talk. As a matter of fact, Agatha could not talk. She felt a
curious exaltation: her heart was full.