GEOFFREY MAKES PROGRESS
Thurston did justice to his breakfast at Bransome's ranch, and he
frankly informed his host that he had found it difficult to exist on
two handfuls of crackers and one of hot corn cakes. When the meal was
finished and pipes were lighted, the two men surveyed each other with
mutual interest. They were not unlike in physique, for the Colonial,
was, as is usual with his kind, lean and wiry. His quick, restless
movements suggested nervous energy, but when advisable, he could assume
the bovine stolidity which, though foreign to his real nature, the
Canadian bushman occasionally adopts for diplomatic purposes.
Thurston, however, still retained certain traits of the Insular Briton,
including a curtness of speech and a judicious reserve.
"That blame lake backs up on my meadows each time the creek rises,"
Bransome observed at length. "The snow melts fast in hay-time, and,
more often than I like, a freshet harvests my timothy grass for me.
Now cutting down three-hundred-foot redwoods is good as exercise, but
it gets monotonous, and a big strip of natural prairie would be
considerably more useful than a beaver's swimming bath. You said you
could blow a channel through the rocks that hold up the outlet, didn't
you?"
"I can!" Geoffrey asserted confidently. "From some knowledge of mining
I am inclined to think that a series of heavy charges fired
simultaneously along the natural cleavage would reduce the lake's level
at least a fathom. Have you got a pencil?"
Here it was that the national idiosyncrasies of the men became
apparent; for Thurston, leaning on one elbow, made an elaborate sketch
and many calculations with Bransome's pencil. A humming-bird,
resplendent in gold and purple, blundered in between the roses
shrouding the open window, and hovered for a moment above him on
invisible wings. Thurston did not notice the bird, but Bransome flung
a crust at it as he smiled on his companion.
"We'll take the figures for granted. Life is too short to worry over
them," the rancher said. "Let's get down to business. How much are
you asking, no cure no pay, I finding tools and material? I want your
bottom price straight away."
Thurston had never done business in so summary a fashion before, but he
could adapt himself to circumstances, and he mentioned a moderate sum
forthwith.
"Can't come down?--then it's a deal!" Bransome announced.
"Contract--this is the Pacific slope, and we've no time for such
foolery. I'm figuring that I can trust you, and my word's good enough
in this locality. Run that pond down a fathom and you'll get your
money. Any particular reason why you shouldn't start in to-day? Don't
know of any? Then put that pipe in your pocket, and we'll strike out
for the store at the settlement now."
So it came about that at sunset Geoffrey was deposited with several
bags of provisions, a blanket, and a litter of tools, outside a ruined
shack on the edge of the natural prairie surrounding Bransome's lake.
He had elected to live beside his work.
A tall forest of tremendous growth walled the lake, and then for a
space rotting trees and willow swale showed where the intermittent rise
of waters had set a limit to the all-encroaching bush. The wail of a
loon rang eerily out of the shadow, and was answered by the howl of a
distant wolf. A thin silver crescent sailed clear of the fretted
minarets of towering firs clear cut against a pale pearl of the sky.
"Carlton's prairie, we call it," said Bransome, leaning against his
light wagon, which stood, near the deserted dwelling. "Land which
isn't all rock or forest is mighty scarce, and Carlton figured he'd
done great things when he bought this place. Five years he tried to
drain it, working night and day, and pouring good money into it, and
five times the freshets washed out his crops for him. The creek just
laughed at his ditches. Then when he'd no more money he went out to
help track-laying, and a big tree flattened him. The boys said he
didn't seem very sorry. This prairie had broken his heart for him, and
I've heard the Siwash say he still comes back and digs at nights when
the moon is full."
"Carlton made a mistake," said Geoffrey, who had been examining the
surroundings rather than listening to the tale. "He began in what
looked the easiest and was the hardest way. He should have cut the
mother rock instead of trenching the forest." When Bransome drove away
Thurston rolled himself in the thick brown blanket, and sank into
slumber under the lee of the dead man's dwelling, through which a maple
tree had grown from the inside, wrenching off the shingle roof.
An owl that circled about the crumbling house, stooped now and then on
muffled wing to inspect the sleeper. Once a stealthy panther, slipping
through the willows, bared its fangs and passed the other way, and the
pale green points of luminescence that twinkled in the surrounding
bush, and were the eyes of timber wolves, faded again. Neither did the
deer that panther and wolves sought, come down to feed on the swamp
that night, for a man, holding dominion over the beasts of the forest,
lay slumbering in the desolate clearing.
Geoffrey began work early next day, and afterwards week by week toiled
from dawn until nearly sunset, blasting clear minor reefs and ledges
until he attacked the mother rock under the lip of a clashing fall.
The fee promised was by no means large, and, because current wages
prohibited assistance, he did all the work himself. So he shoveled
debris and drilled holes in the hard blue grit; and drilling,
single-handed, is a difficult operation, damaging to the knuckles of
the man attempting it. He waded waist-deep in water, learned to carry
heavy burdens on his shoulder, and found his interest in the task
growing upon him. He felt that much depended upon the successful
completion of his contract. It was not, however, all monotonous labor,
and there were compensations, for, after each day's toil was done, he
lay prone on scented pine twigs, and heard the voices of the bush break
softly through the solemn hush as, through gradations of fading glories
along the lofty snows, night closed in. He would watch the black bear
grubbing hog-fashion among the tall wild cabbage, while the little
butter duck, paddling before its brood, set divergent lines creeping
across the steely lake until the shadows of the whitened driftwood
broke and quivered.
Sometimes he would call the chipmunks, which scurried up and down
behind him, or tap on a rotten log until a crested woodpecker cried in
answer, and by degrees the spell of the mountains gained upon him,
until he forgot his troubles and became no more subject to fits of
berserk rage. He was growing quiet and more patient, learning to wait,
but his energy and determination still remained. But he was not wholly
cut off from human intercourse, for at times some of the scattered
ranchers would ride over to offer impracticable advice or to predict
his failure, and Geoffrey listened quietly, answering that in time it
would be proved which was right. Sometimes, he tramped through scented
shadow to Graham's homestead and discussed crops and cattle with the
rancher. On these occasions, he had long conversations with Helen
Savine, who, finding no person of liberal education thereabouts, was
pleased to talk to him. There was nothing incongruous in this, for
petty class distinctions vanish in the bush, where, when his daily task
is done, the hired man meets his master on terms of equality.
At last the day on which Thurston's work was to be practically tested
arrived, and most of the ranchers drove over to witness what they
regarded as a reckless experiment.
Jean Graham and Helen Savine stood a little apart from the rest on the
edge of the forest looking down on the glancing water and talking with
the experimenter. The rich wet meadows were heavy with flag and
blossom to the edge of the driftwood frieze, and the splash of rising
trout alone disturbed the reflection of the mighty trunks and branches
crowning a promontory on the farther side.
"It is very beautiful, and now you are going to spoil it all, Mr.
Bransome," said Helen.
The rancher glanced at her with admiration in his eyes. Helen was
worthy of inspection. Her thin summer dress, with the cluster of
crimson roses tucked into the waist of it, brought out her rich beauty
which betokened a Latin ancestry.
"Yes, it's mighty pretty; a picture worth looking at--all of it," he
said, and there was a faint smile on Helen's lips as she recognized
that the general tribute to the picturesque was as far as Bransome
dared venture in the direction of a compliment. He was not a diffident
person, but he felt a wholesome respect for Helen Savine.
"Mighty pretty, but what's the good of it, and I'm not farming for my
health," he continued. "It's just a beautiful wilderness, and what has
a man brains given him for, unless it's to turn the wilderness into
cheese and butter. It has broken one man's heart, and my thick-headed
neighbors said a swamp it would remain forever, but a stranger with
ideas came along, and I told him, 'Sail ahead.'"
"I did hear you told him not to be a--perhaps I had better say--a
simple fool," Helen answered mischievously; and Bransome coughed before
he made reply.
"Maybe!" he acknowledged. "I didn't know him then, but to-day I'm
ready to back that man to put through just whatever he sets his mind
upon."
As Bransome spoke, the subject of this encomium came up from the little
gorge by the lake outlet, and it struck Helen Savine that the rock
worker had changed to advantage since she first saw him. His keen
eyes, which she had noticed were quick to flash with anger, had grown
more kindly and the bronzed face was more reposeful. The thin jean
garments and great knee boots, which had no longer any rents in them,
suited the well-proportioned frame.
"I was disappointed about the electric firing gear ordered from
Vancouver, but I think the coupled time-fuses should serve almost as
well," said Thurston, acknowledging Helen's presence with a bow that
was significant. "You appear interested, Miss Savine. We are trusting
to the shock of a number of charges fired simultaneously, and perhaps
you had better retire nearer the bush, for the blast will be powerful.
I should like your good wishes, since you are in a measure responsible
for this venture. You will remember you gave me my first commission."
"You have them!" said Helen, with a frank sincerity, for though the man
was a mere enterprising laborer, she was too proud to assume any air of
condescension. She was Helen Savine, and considered that she had no
need to maintain her dignity.
Geoffrey returned a conventional answer, and there was a buzz of voices
as he and Bransome walked back together towards the gorge. The rancher
halted discreetly when his companion, taking a brand from a fire near
it, clambered over the boulders. Geoffrey disappeared among the rocks,
and the voices grew louder when he came into view again walking
hurriedly.
Several trails of thin blue vapor began to crawl in and out among the
rocks. Bransome joined Thurston, and both men broke into a smart trot.
They were heading for the bush until Geoffrey, halting near it, ran
back at full speed towards the gorge. All who watched him were
astonished, for they were already bracing themselves to face the heavy
shock.
"He's mad--stark mad!" roared Graham. "Come back for your life,
Bransome. It's smashed into small pieces both of you will be," and the
eyes of the spectators grew wide as they watched the two running
figures, for the rancher also had turned, and the lines of vapor were
creeping with ominous swiftness across the face of the stone.
There was a roar as the behind man clutched at the other, missed him,
and staggered several paces, leaving his hat behind him before he took
up the chase again. Single cries sharper than the rest rose out of the
clamor, "Blown to glory both of them! Two sticks of giant powder in
most of the holes. All that's left of the Britisher won't be worth
picking up!"
The two men disappeared among the boulders almost under the white foam
of the fall, and for a brief space there was heavy silence emphasized
by the song of hurrying water and the drumming of a blue-grouse on the
summit of a fir. Helen Savine fancied she could hear the assembly
breathing unevenly, and felt a pricking among the roots of her hair,
while she struggled with an impulse which prompted her to cry aloud or
in any wild fashion to break the torturing suspense. Jean Graham,
whose eyes were wide with apprehension, noted that her face was
bloodless to the lips. Neither had as yet been rudely confronted with
tragedy, and both felt held fast, spellbound, without the power to move.
"The Lord have mercy on them," said the hoarse voice of a man somewhere
behind the girls.
Once more a murmur swelled into a roar, and Jean, twining her brown
fingers together, cried, "There! They're coming. They may be in time!"
A figure, apparently Bransome's, leaped down from a boulder close in
front of one that climbed over the stone, and there followed harsh,
breathless cries of encouragement as the two headed at mad speed for
the sheltering forest, the rear runner, who came up with hands clenched
and long swinging strides, gaining steadily on the one before him.
They were near enough for those who watched to see that the fear of
sudden death was stamped upon their perspiring faces. Then, as they
passed a spur of rock out-crop, Thurston leaped upon the leader, hurled
him forward so that he lost his balance and the pair went down out of
sight among the rocks, while a shaft of radiance pale in the sunlight
blazed aloft beside the outlet of the lake. Thick yellow-tinted vapor
followed it, and hillside and forest rang to the shock of a stunning
detonation.
The smoke curling in filmy wreaths spread itself across the quaggy
meadows, while the patter of falling fragments filled the quivering
bush, and was mingled with a loud splashing, or a heavy crash as some
piece of greater weight drove hurtling through the trees or plunged
into the lake. Then for the last time the assembly gave voice, raising
a tumultuous cheer of relief as the two men came forth uninjured out of
the eddying smoke.
Geoffrey, shaking the dust from his garments, turned to his companion
with a somewhat nervous laugh:
"We cut it rather fine," he said, "but I felt reasonably sure there
would be just sufficient time, and it might have spoiled the whole
blast if the two bad fuses had failed to fire their shots. Of course,
I'm grateful for your company, but as it was my particular business I
don't quite see why you turned back after me."
Bransome, who mopped his forehead, stared at the speaker with some
wonder and more admiration before he answered:
"There's a good deal of cast iron about you, and I guess I'd a long way
sooner have trusted the rest than have gone back to stir up those two
charges. What took me?--well, I figured you had turned suddenly crazy,
and I was in a way responsible for you. Made the best bargain for your
time I could, but I didn't buy you up bones and body--see?"
"I think I do," answered Geoffrey, and that was all, but it meant the
recognition of a bond between them. Bransome, as if glad to change the
subject, asked:
"Say, after you had fired the fuse what did you waste precious seconds
looking for? If I wasn't too scared to notice anything clearly I'd
swear you found something and picked it up."
"I did!" declared Geoffrey, smiling. "It was something I must have
dropped before. Only a trifle, but I would not like to lose it, and--I
had one eye on the fuses--there seemed a second or two to spare.
However, for some reason my throat feels all stuck together. Have you
any cider in your wagon?"
Half-an-hour later, when most of the spectators stood watching the
released waters thunder down the gorge, for the blast had been
successful, Helen Savine said:
"I don't quite understand what happened, Mr. Bransome."
"It was this way!" answered the rancher, glad to profit by any
opportunity of interesting the girl. "That Thurston is a hard, tough
man. Two fuses that were to fire small charges petered out, and sooner
than risk anything he must light them again. I don't quite understand
all the rest of it, either, for he's not a mean man, and why he should
stay fooling on top of a powder mine looking for one dollar when I've a
hatful to pay him is away beyond me. Yet I'm sure he picked up a piece
of silver just before we ran. Curious kind of creature, isn't he?"
Helen thought the incident distinctly odd. She could not comprehend
why a man should risk his life for the sake of a silver coin. She
could not find a solution of the mystery until it was explained that
evening.
Geoffrey Thurston, attired in white shirt, black sash, and new store
clothes, had tramped over to Graham's ranch and by degrees he and Miss
Savine gravitated away from the others. They were interested in
subjects that did not appeal to the rest, and, though Jean smiled
mischievously at times, this excited no comment.
Clear moonlight sparkled upon the untrodden snows above them, snows
that had remained stainless since the giant peaks were framed when the
world was young. The pines were black on their lower slopes, and white
mists filled the valley, out of which the song of the river rose in
long reverberations. Geoffrey and Helen leaned on the veranda
balustrade, both silent, for the solemnity of the mountains impressed
them, and speech seemed superfluous.
After a while, the girl told Geoffrey that he ought to be glad to live
after his narrow escape from death. "There was really no great risk,
and, if there had been, the results would have justified it," Geoffrey
replied. "The failure of two charges might have spoiled all my work
for me. Since I left you the Roads and Trails Surveyor voluntarily
offered me a rock work contract he had refused before, and I at once
accepted it."
"You have not been used to this laborious life. Have you no further
ambition, and do you like it?" asked Helen, flashing a quick glance at
him.
"It is not exactly what I expected, but as there appears to be no great
demand in this country for mental abilities, one is glad to earn a
living as one can," he said. "I am afraid I am a somewhat ambitious
person. I consider this only the beginning, and Miss Savine
responsible for it. You will remember who it was offered me my first
contract."
"Don't!" commanded Helen, averting her eyes. "That is hardly fair or
civil. You really looked so--and how was I to know?"
Geoffrey's pulse beat faster, and the smile faded out of his eyes as he
noticed, for the moon was high, the trace of faintly heightened color
in the speaker's face.
"I doubtless looked the hungry, worn-out tramp I was," he interposed
gravely. "And out of gentle compassion, you offered me a dollar.
Well, I earned that dollar, and I have it still. It has brought me
good luck, and I will keep it as a talisman."
Instinctively his fingers slid to one end of a thin gold chain, and for
a moment a look of consternation came into his face, for the links hung
loose; then as the hard hand dropped to his pocket, he looked relieved
and Helen found it judicious to watch a gray blur of shadow moving
across the snow. She had sometimes wondered what he wore at one end of
that cross-pattern chain, for rock cutters do not usually adorn
themselves with such trinkets, but, remembering Bransome's comments,
she now understood what had happened just before the explosion.
Geoffrey's quick eyes had noticed something unusual in her air, and his
old reckless spirit, breaking through all restraint, prompted him to
say:
"It will, I fancy, still bring me good fortune. I come of a
superstitious race, and nothing would tempt me to part with it. This,
as I said, is only the beginning. It appeared impossible to move the
boulder from your wagon trail, and I did it. The neighbors declared
nobody could drain Bransome's prairie, and a number of goodly acres are
drying now, while to-night I feel it may be possible to go on and on,
until----"
"Does not that sound somewhat egotistical?" interposed Helen.
"Horribly," said Thurston, with a curious smile. "But you see I am
trusting in the talisman, and some day I may ask you to admit that I
have made it good. I'm not avaricious, and desire money only as means
to an end. Dollars! If all goes well, the contract for the wagon road
rock work should bring me in a good many of them."
"You are refreshingly certain," averred Helen. "But will the end or
dominant purpose justify all this?"
Thurston answered quietly:
"I may ask you to judge that, also, some day!"
Helen was conscious of a chagrin quite unusual to her. Hitherto, she
had experienced little difficulty in making the men she knew regret
anything that resembled presumption, but with this man it was
different. What he meant she would not at the moment ask herself, but,
though she rather admired his quietly confident tone, it nettled her,
and yet, without begging an awkward question she could not resent it.
Geoffrey's reckless frankness was often more unassailable than wiser
men's diplomacy--and she was certainly pleased that he had recovered
the dollar.
"The dew is getting heavy, and I promised Jean some instruction in
netting," she told him rather unsteadily. She paused a second, and,
with an assumed carelessness, added, "isn't it useless to forecast the
future?"