A POINT OF HONOR
Florence Hunter sat in her wagon in front of the grocery store at
Graham's Bluff waiting until the man who kept it should bring out
various goods she had ordered. Though a fresh breeze swept the
surrounding prairie the little town was very hot, and it looked
singularly unattractive with the dust blowing through its one unpaved
street. In one place a gaily striped shade, which flapped and fluttered
in the wind, had been stretched above the window of an ambitious store;
but with this exception the unlovely wooden buildings boldly fronted the
weather, with the sun-glare on their thin, rent boarding and the roofing
shingles crackling overhead, as they had done when they had borne the
scourge of snow-laden gales and the almost Arctic frost. They were
square and squat, as destitute, most of them, of paint as they were of
any attempt at adornment; and in hot weather the newer ones were
permeated with a pungent, resinous smell.
Where Florence sat, however, the odors that flowed out of the store were
more diffuse, for the fragrance of perspiring cheese was mingled with
that of pork which had gained flavor and lost its stiffness in the heat,
and the aroma of what was sold as coffee at Graham's Bluff. Florence,
indeed, had been glad to escape from the store, which resembled an oven
with savory cooking going on, though after all it was not a great deal
better in the wagon. The dust was beginning to gather in the folds of
her dainty dress, the wind plucked at her veil, and the fierce sun smote
her face.
On the whole, she was displeased with things in general and inclined to
regret that she had driven into the settlement, which she had done in a
fit of compunction. Hitherto she had contented herself with sending the
storekeeper an order for goods to be supplied, without any attempt to
investigate his charges, but now, with Elcot's harvest ruined it had
appeared her duty to consider carefully the subject of housekeeping
accounts. She rather resented the fact that her first experiment had
proved unpleasant, for she had shrunk from the sight of the slabs of
half-melted pork flung down for her inspection, and having hitherto
shopped only in England and eastern Canada she had found the naïve
abruptness of the western storekeeper somewhat hard on her temper.
Retail dealers in the prairie settlements seldom defer to their
customers. If the latter do not like their goods or charges they are
generally favored with a hint that they would better go somewhere else,
and there is an end of the matter. It really did not look as if much
encouragement was held out to those who aspired to cultivate the
domestic virtues. At length the storekeeper appeared with several large
packages.
"You want to cover this one up; it's the butter," he cautioned. "Guess
you're going to have some trouble in keeping it in the wagon if the sun
gets on to it. Better bring a big can next time, same as your hired man
does."
The warning was justified, because when the inexperienced customer
brings nothing to put it in, butter is usually retailed in light baskets
made of wood, in spite of the fact that it is addicted to running out
of them in the heat of the day. The man next deposited a heavy cotton
bag in the wagon, and while a thin cloud of flour which followed its
fall descended upon Florence he laid his hands on the wheel and looked
at her confidentially.
"I guess if your husband meant to let up on that creamery scheme you
would have heard of it," he suggested.
"Yes," replied Florence; "I don't think he has any intention of doing
so."
The man made a sign of assent.
"That's just what I was telling the boys last night. There were two or
three of them from Traverse staying at the hotel, and when we got to
talking about the hail they allowed that he'd have to cut the creamery
plan out. I said that when Elcot Hunter took a thing up he stayed with
it until he put it through."
His words had their effect on Florence. This, it seemed, was what the
men who dealt with Elcot thought of him. After a few more general
observations about the creamery her companion went back into his store,
and as he did so Nevis came out of a house near by. He stopped beside
her team.
"I didn't know you were in the settlement," he said, and his manner
implied that had he been acquainted with the fact he would have sought
her out.
Florence glanced at him sharply as she gathered up the reins. The man
seemed disposed to be more amiable than he had shown himself on the last
occasion, but she now cherished two strong grievances against him. He
had cunningly saddled her with a debt which was becoming horribly
embarrassing, and he had given her husband a hint that she had dealings
of some kind with him. As the latter course was, on the face of it,
clearly not calculated to earn her gratitude, she surmised that he must
have had some ulterior object in adopting it.
"I've been buying stores," she answered indifferently.
"That's a new departure, isn't it?" Nevis suggested. "You generally
contented yourself with sending in for them."
Florence did not like his tone, and he seemed suspiciously well informed
about her habits. This indicated that he had been making inquiries about
her, and she naturally resented it. She disregarded the speech, however.
"I suppose you're here on business?"
"Yes," answered Nevis, and there was something significant in his
manner; "I thought it wiser to look up my clients after the hail we had
two nights ago. It's going to make things very tight for many of the
prairie farmers."
"And a disaster naturally brings you on the field. Rather like the
vultures, isn't it?"
She was about to drive on, but Nevis suddenly laid his hand on the rein.
"I think you ought to give me a minute or two, if only to answer that,"
he said with a laugh. "You compared me to a pickpocket not long ago, and
I'm not prepared to own that you have chosen a very fortunate simile
now."
"No? After the fact you mentioned it struck me as rather apposite; but I
may have been wrong. The point's hardly worth discussing, and I'm going
on to the hotel."
She had expected him to take the hint and drop the rein, but he showed
no intention of doing so, and it suddenly dawned on her that he meant
to keep her talking as long as possible. Everybody in the settlement who
cared to look out could see them, and she had no doubt that the women in
the place were keenly observant. It almost seemed as if he wished the
fact that they had a good deal to say to each other to attract
attention, with the idea that this might serve to give him a further
hold on her. It was an opposite policy to the one he had pursued when
she had driven him across the prairie some time ago, but the man had
become bolder and more aggressive since then.
"Will you let that rein go?" she asked directly.
Nevis did not comply, and though he made a gesture of deprecation the
look in his eyes warned her that he meant to let her feel his power.
"Won't you give me an opportunity for convincing you that I'm not like
the vultures first? You see, they gather round the carrion, and I don't
suppose you would care to apply that term to the farmers in our
vicinity. Most of them aren't more than moribund yet."
It struck Florence that he was indifferent as to whether she took
offense at this or not; and he was undoubtedly determined to stick fast
to the rein. There were already one or two loungers watching them, and,
if he persisted, she could not start the team without some highly
undesirable display of force. The man, she fancied, realized this, and
an angry warmth crept into her face. Then, somewhat to her relief, she
saw Thorne strolling down the street behind her companion. He wore a
battered, wide gray hat, a blue shirt which hung open at the neck, duck
trousers and long boots, and though he was freely sprinkled with dust he
looked distinctly picturesque. What was more to the purpose, he seemed
to be regarding Nevis with suspicion, and she knew that he was a man of
quick resource. In any case, the situation was becoming intolerable, and
she flashed a quick glance at him. She fancied that he would understand
it as an intimation that he was wanted, and the expectation was
justified, for although she had never been gracious to him he approached
a little faster. In the meanwhile Nevis, who had seen nothing of all
this, talked on.
"There are, of course," he added, "people who are prejudiced against me;
but on the other hand I have set a good many of the small farmers on
their feet again."
"Presumably you made them pay for it?"
The man had no opportunity for answering this, for just then Thorne's
hand fell heavily upon his shoulder.
"You here, Nevis?" he cried.
Nevis dropped the rein as he swung around and Florence wasted no time in
starting her team. As the wagon jolted away down the rutted street
Nevis, standing still, somewhat flushed in face, gazed at Thorne.
"Well," he demanded, "what do you want?"
Thorne leaned against the front of the store with sardonic amusement in
his eyes.
"Oh," he replied, "it merely occurred to me that Mrs. Hunter wished to
drive on. I thought I'd better point it out to you."
Nevis glanced at him savagely and then strode away, which was, indeed,
all that he could do. An altercation would serve no useful purpose, and
his antagonist was notoriously quick at repartee.
Thorne proceeded toward the wooden hotel and crossing the veranda he
entered a long roughly boarded room, where he found Alison and Mrs.
Farquhar as well as Florence Hunter waiting for supper. Mrs. Farquhar
told him that supper would be served to them before the regular
customers came in for theirs. They chatted a while and then a young lad
appeared in the doorway and stopped hesitatingly.
"I'm sorry if I'm intruding," he apologized. "I meant to have supper
with the boys, and Symonds didn't tell me there was anybody in the
room."
Thorne turned to Mrs. Farquhar, and she smiled.
"Then unless you would prefer to take it with the boys, Dave, there's no
reason why you should run away," he said.
He led the lad toward Alison when Mrs. Farquhar had spoken to him.
"I think you will remember him, Miss Leigh. He's the young man who
boiled the fowls whole at the raising."
Alison laughed and shook hands with him, but after a word or two with
her he looked at Thorne significantly and moved a few paces toward the
door.
"Did you know that Winthrop was in the neighborhood?" he whispered.
Alison still stood near them and Thorne fancied that she started
slightly, which implied that she had overheard, though why the news
should cause her concern was far from clear to him.
"I didn't," he said sharply. "It's a little difficult to believe it now.
You're quite sure?"
"I saw him," the lad persisted. "I was riding here along the trail and
I'd come to the ravine. It's quite likely the birches had hidden me, for
when I came out of them he was sitting on the edge of the sloo on the
south side, near enough for me to recognize him, eating something. The
next moment he rolled over into the grass and vanished."
"Then you didn't speak to him?"
"He was too quick. It looked as if he didn't want me to see him, and I
rode on. I had to call at Forrester's and I found Corporal Slaney there.
One or two things he said made it clear that he hadn't the faintest
notion that Winthrop was within a mile or two of him."
He was apparently about to add something further when Thorne looked at
him warningly. They were standing near the entrance, the approach to
which led through the veranda, and the next moment Nevis walked into the
room.
"Have you been picking up interesting news?" he asked. "I believe I
caught Winthrop's name."
It was spoken sharply, in the expectation, Thorne fancied, that his
companion, taken off his guard, would blurt out some fresh information;
but the lad turned toward Nevis with an air of cold resentment.
"I was talking to Mr. Thorne," he replied.
Nevis laughed, though Thorne noticed that he did not do it easily.
"Well," he said, "I'm sorry if I interrupted you."
Then he turned toward the others as if he had just noticed them.
"I didn't know that Symonds had placed the room at your disposal; I've
no doubt that will excuse me."
Nobody invited him to remain, but he withdrew gracefully, and when he
had gone Thorne led the lad out on to the veranda. It was unoccupied,
but as it stood some little height above the ground he walked to the
edge of it and looked over before he spoke.
"Now, Dave, I want you to tell me one or two things as clearly as you
can."
The lad answered his questions, and in a minute or two Thorne nodded as
if satisfied. Then he pointed to the room.
"Go in and talk to Mrs. Farquhar. Keep clear of Nevis, and ride home as
soon as you can after supper. If you feel compelled to mention the
thing, there's no reason why you shouldn't to-morrow. It won't do much
harm then."
He went down the steps and along the street, and when he came back some
time later he found Alison waiting for him on the veranda.
"So you heard what Dave told me? I thought you did," he said.
"Yes," assented Alison. "The question is whether Nevis heard him too."
"He certainly heard part, but there are one or two things he can't very
well know. For instance, it was Slaney's intention to ride in to the
railroad as soon as he'd had supper."
"Forrester's place must be at least two leagues from here," commented
Alison.
"About that," Thorne agreed with a smile. "It's far enough to make it
exceedingly probable that anybody who started from this settlement when
he'd had his supper would only get there after Winthrop had gone."
"But Nevis might send a messenger immediately."
Thorne shook his head.
"It strikes me as very unlikely that he'd get any one to go. There are
only one or two horses in the place, and I've been round to see the men
to whom they belong."
Alison's eyes sparkled approvingly.
"But suppose he goes himself?"
"He won't until after supper. Nevis is not the man to deny himself
unless it seems absolutely necessary, and he'll naturally assume that
Slaney is spending the night with Forrester. But there's a certain
probability of his setting out immediately after the meal."
"And what are you going to do about it?"
Thorne's expression became regretful.
"I'm very much afraid I can't do anything. You see,
the--arrangement--with Corporal Slaney stands in the way."
"You never thought that Winthrop would come back here when you made it,"
Alison suggested.
"No," acknowledged Thorne; "the point is that the corporal didn't
either."
Alison appeared to reflect, and he watched her with quiet amusement.
"I've changed my mind about Winthrop," she told him at length. "I want
him to get away."
Thorne made no answer, and she continued:
"Lucy Calvert is, no doubt, a good deal more anxious than I am that he
should escape, and it would be only natural if you wished to earn her
thanks. I think she could be very nice, and her eyes are wonderfully
blue."
Thorne met her inquiring gaze with one of contemplative scrutiny.
"Yours," he said, "are usually delightfully still and gray--like a pool
on a moorland stream at home under a faintly clouded sky; but now and
then they gleam with a golden light as the water does when the sun comes
through."
His companion hastily abandoned that line of attack. His defense was too
vigorous for her to follow it up.
"You feel that your hands are absolutely tied by the hint you gave
Slaney that afternoon?" she asked.
"That's how it strikes me," Thorne declared. "In this case I'm afraid
I'll have to stand aside and content myself with looking on."
"But haven't you already made it difficult for Nevis to get a
messenger?"
"I've certainly given a couple of men a hint that I'd rather they didn't
do any errand of his to-night. That may have been going too far--I can't
tell." He paused and laughed softly. "Except when it's a case of selling
patent medicines, I'm not a casuist."
Alison realized his point of view and in several ways it appealed to
her. He had treated the matter humorously, but, though so little had
been said by either of the men, it was clear that he felt he had pledged
himself to Slaney, and was not to be moved.
"Well," she urged, "somebody must stop Nevis from driving over to
Forrester's."
"It would be very desirable," Thorne admitted dryly. "The most annoying
thing is that it could have been managed with very little trouble."
"How?" Alison asked with assumed indifference.
Thorne, suspecting nothing, fell into the trap.
"Nevis's hired buggy is a rather rickety affair. It wouldn't astonish
anybody if, when he wished to start, there was a bolt short."
A look of satisfaction flashed into Alison's eyes.
"Then he will certainly have to put up with any trouble the absence of
that bolt is capable of causing. As there doesn't seem to be any other
way, I'll pull it out myself. Your scruples won't compel you to forbid
me?"
The man expostulated, but she was quietly determined.
"If you won't tell me what to do, I'll get Dave," she laughed. "I've no
doubt he'd be willing to help me."
Thorne thought it highly undesirable that they should take a third
person into their confidence, and he reluctantly yielded.
"Then," he advised, "it would be wiser to set about it while the boys
are getting supper; there'll be nobody about the back of the hotel then.
In the meanwhile, we'd better go in again and talk to the others."