THE WORK OF AN ENEMY
It was a bitter morning when a weary man, sprinkled white with powdery
snow, came limping into Thurston's camp, which was then pitched in the
canyon. A pitiless wind swept down from the range side across the
thrashing pines, and filled the deep rift with its shrill moaning which
sounded above the diapason of the shrunken river. A haze of
frost-dried snow infinitesimally fine, which stung the unprotected skin
like the prick of hot needles, whirled before the wind and then
thinned, leaving bare the higher shoulders of the hills, though a rush
of dingy vapor hid the ice-ribbed peaks above. The canyon was a scene
of appalling desolation, but few of the long-booted men who hurried
among the boulders had leisure to contemplate it. The men were working
for Geoffrey Thurston, who did not encourage idleness.
So the stranger came almost unnoticed into the center of the camp where
Thurston saw him, and asked sharply, "Where do you come from, and what
do you want?"
"I'm a frame-carpenter," answered the new arrival. "Got fired from the
Hastings saw-mill when work slacked down. Couldn't find anybody who
wanted me at Vancouver, so I struck out for the mountains and mines.
Found worse luck up here; spent all my money and wore my clothes out,
but the boss of the Orchard Mill, who took me for a few days, said I
might tell you he recommended me. I'm about played out with getting
here, and I'm mighty hungry."
Geoffrey looked the man over, and decided there was truth in the latter
part of his story. "Take this spanner and wade across to the reef
yonder," he said. "You can begin by giving aid to those men who are
bolting the beams down."
The stranger glanced dubiously at the rush of icy water, thick with
jagged cakes of frozen snow, then at his dilapidated foot gear, and
hesitated. "I'm not great at swimming. It looks deep," he objected.
"You can walk, I suppose," Geoffrey answered. "If you do, it won't
drown you."
The man prepared to obey. He had reached the edge of the water when
Geoffrey called him. "I see you're willing, and I'll take you for a
few weeks any way," he said. "In the meantime a rest wouldn't do you
much harm, and the cook might find you something to keep you from
starving until supper, if you asked him civilly."
"Thanks!" the man answered, with a curious expression in his face. "I
am a bit used up, and I guess I'll see the cook."
Work proceeded until the winter's dusk fell, when a bountiful supper
was served. The stranger, who did full justice to the meal, showed
himself a capable hand when work was resumed under the flaring light of
several huge lamps. That night two of his new comrades sat in the
cook-shed discussing the stranger. One was James Gillow, whom Geoffrey
had first employed at Helen's suggestion, and now replaced the man he
formerly assisted. He was apparently without ambition, and chiefly
remarkable for an antipathy to physical effort. Although he had a good
education, he found that cooking suited him. He sat upon an overturned
bucket discoursing whimsically, while Mattawa Tom, who acted as
Thurston's foreman, peeled potatoes for him. The cook-shanty was warm
and snug, and Gillow made those to whom he granted the right of entry
work for the privilege.
"Strikes me as queer," said the big axeman, with a grin, when the cook
halted to refill his pipe. "Strikes me as queer, it does, that some of
you fellows who know so much kin do so little. Knowledge ain't worth a
cent unless you've got the rustle. Now there's the boss. You talk the
same talk, an' he can't well know more than you seem to do, but look
where he is, while you stop right down at the bottom running a
cook-shanty. Guess you were born tired, English Jim."
"I dare say you're right," answered Gillow. "Other folks in the Old
Country have said the same thing, though they didn't put it so neatly.
The fact is, some men, like Thurston, are born to wear themselves out
trying to manage things, while I was intended for philosophic
contemplation. He's occasionally hard to get on with, but since I came
here, I'm willing to acknowledge that men of his species are useful,
and I have struck harder masters in this great Dominion."
Mattawa Tom laughed hoarsely as he responded: "I should say! You found
him hard the day you ran black lines all over his drawings and nearly
burnt his shanty up, trying to prove he didn't know his business, when
you was brim-full of Red Pine whiskey."
"It was poison," said Gillow, with unruffled good humor. "Several
bottles of genuine whiskey would not confuse me, but I have sworn off
since the day you mention, partly to oblige Thurston, who seemed to
desire it, and because I can't get any decent liquor. But what do you
think of our latest acquisition?"
"He kin work, which is more than you could, before the boss taught
you," was the dry answer. "But there's something odd about him. You
saw the outfit he came in with? Couldn't have swapped it with a Siwash
Indian--well, the man has better clothes than you or I on underneath,
and if he was so blame hard up, what did he offer Jake five dollars for
his old gum boots for?"
"Afraid of wetting his feet. Most sensible person, considering the
weather," remarked Gillow, indifferently.
"'Fraid of wetting his feet! This is just where horse sense beats
knowledge. That fellow is scared of nothing around this camp. Hasn't
it struck you the boss is going to put through a big contract in a way
that's not been tried before, and that there are some folks who would
put up a good many dollars to see him let down nicely?"
"Well?" Gillow questioned with a show of interest, and the foreman
nodded sagaciously as he answered:
"Whoever busts the boss up will have to get both feet on the neck of
Mattawa Tom first, and that's not going to be easy. I'll keep my eyes
right on to that fellow."
Tom went out, and Gillow, awakening at midnight, saw that his blankets
were still empty. The same thing happened several times, and it was
well for Thurston that he had the true leader's gift of inspiring his
followers with loyalty, for one night a week later the foreman, who had
kept his own counsel, shook Gillow out of his slumber. The sleepy man,
who groped for a boot to fling at the disturber of his peace, abandoned
the benevolent intention when he saw his comrade's face under the
hanging lamp.
"Don't ask no fool questions, but get your things on and come with me,"
Tom commanded.
Five minutes later Gillow, shivering and reluctant, turned out into the
frost. It was a bitter night, and his breath froze upon his mustache.
The snow and froth of the river glimmered spectrally, and when they had
left the camp some distance behind, there was light enough to see a
black figure crawl up a ladder leading to a wire rope stretched tight
in mid-air above the torrent. A trolley hung beneath it by means of
which men and material were hauled across the chasm.
"Get down here!" whispered Tom. "We'll watch him. If we should fall
over any more of these blame rocks he'd see us certain."
Gillow was glad to obey, for, though there was faint moonlight, he had
already cut one knee cruelly. It was bitterly cold beneath the boulder
where he crouched in the snow, and when the black object, which worked
its way along the bending cable, had disappeared in the gloom of
overhanging rocks on the opposite shore, there was nothing to see but
the tossing spray of the river. The stream was still a formidable
torrent, though now that the feeding snows were frozen fast, it was
shrunken far below its summer level. A good many minutes had passed
with painful slowness when Gillow, who regretted that he had left the
snug cook-shed, said:
"This is distinctly monotonous, and it's about time we struck back to
camp. Guess that fellow has tackled too much Red Pine whiskey, and is
just walking round to cool himself."
In answer the foreman grasped the speaker's shoulder, and stretched out
a pointing hand. The moonlight touched one angle of the rock upon the
opposite shore which encroached upon the frothing water, and the dark
figure showed sharply against it. The figure vanished, reappeared, and
sank from sight again. When this had happened several times Gillow
remarked: "Perhaps we had better go over. The man's clean gone mad."
"No, sir!" objected Mattawa Tom. "No more mad than you. See what he's
after? No! You don't remember, either, how mighty hard it was to
wedge in the holdfasts for the chain guys stiffening the front of the
dam, or how the keys work loose? There wouldn't be much of the boring
machines or dam framing left if the chains pulled those wedges out.
Catch on to the idee?"
Gillow gasped. The huge timber framing, which held back the river so
that the costly boring machines could work upon the reef, cumbering
part of its bed, had been built only with the greatest difficulty, and
when finished Thurston had found it necessary to strengthen it by heavy
chains made fast in the rock above. The sockets to which these were
secured had been wedged into deep-sunk holes, but more than once some
of the hard wood keys had worked loose, and Gillow could guess what
would happen if many were partially set free at the same time.
"If he hammered three or four of those wedges clear it would only need
a bang on another one to give the river its way," Gillow said
excitedly. "Then it would take Thurston six months to fix up the
damage, if he ever did, and nobody would know how it happened. The
cold-blooded brute's in the maintenance gang?"
"Just so. A blame smart man, too!" asserted Mattawa Tom. "I guess the
boss wouldn't want everybody to know. Rustle back your hardest and
bring him along."
Fifteen minutes later Thurston took his place behind the boulder, and,
because the light was clearer now, he could dimly see the man swinging
a heavy hammer, against the rock. He knew that the miscreant, whose
business was to prevent the possibility of such accidents, need only
start a few more keys, which he would probably do when the dam was
clear of men, and many thousand dollars' worth of property and the
result of months of labor would be swallowed by the river. His face
paled with fierce anger when he recognized this fact.
"I want that man," he declared with shut teeth. "I want him so badly
that I'd forfeit five hundred dollars sooner than miss him. Slip
forward, Gillow, as much out of sight as you can, and hide yourself on
the other side of the ladder. Mattawa and I will wait for him here,
and among us three we ought to make sure of him."
Gillow, who stole forward stooping, swore softly as he fell over many
obstacles on the way. The man they wanted became visible, ascending
another ladder across the river. Then, hanging in the suspended
trolley, he moved, a black shape clear against the snow--along the wire
which stretched high across the gulf. While the others watched him,
his progress grew slower on reaching the hollow, where the cable bent
slightly under the weight at its center. Suddenly the car's progress
was checked altogether, and it began to move in the opposite direction
more rapidly than before, while Thurston sprang to his feet.
"Slack the setting up tackles, Gillow. Hurry for your life," he
shouted. "He'll cast the cable loose and be off by the Indian trail
into the ranges, if he once gets across."
Gillow ran his best, where running of any kind was barely possible even
by daylight. He knew that his master was slow to forgive those whose
carelessness thwarted any plan, and that, while taking the easier way
over instead of crawling round a ledge, he had probably alarmed the
fugitive. He reached the foot of the ladder. Climbing up in a
desperate hurry, he cast loose the end of the tackle by means of which
the cable was set up taut, but neglected in his haste to take a turn
with the hemp rope about a post, which would have eased him of most of
the strain.
"Got him safe!" cried Tom from Mattawa, scrambling to the top of the
boulder, as the curve of the wire rope high above their heads
increased. In spite of the fugitive's efforts, the trolley from which
he was suspended ran back to the slackest part of the loop that sagged
down nearer the river. Thurston, who watched him, nodded with a sense
of savage satisfaction. He did not for a moment believe that, of his
own initiative, any workman would have made a long journey or would
have run considerable personal risk to do him an injury. That was why
he was so anxious to secure the offender.
The curve grew rapidly deeper, until the rope stretched into two
diagonals between its fastenings on either shore. Then the trolley
descended with a run towards the river, and Geoffrey ran forward,
shouting, "The weight's too much for Gillow. Bring along the coil of
line from the tool locker, Tom. Hurry, I don't want to drown the
rascal."
What had happened was simple. The cook, endeavoring to take a turn of
the line too late, had failed, and the hemp ran through his half-frozen
fingers, chafing the skin from them. Seeing Thurston floundering in
his direction over the boulders, he valiantly strove to check it,
regardless of the pain until it was whipped clear of his slackening
grasp and the trolley rushed downwards towards the torrent. Thurston
was abreast of it before it splashed in, and had just time to see its
occupant, still clutching the rope, drawn under by the sinking wire,
before he plunged recklessly into the foam.
The water was horribly cold, and the first shock left him gasping and
almost paralyzed. The stream was running fast, and rebounding in white
foam from great stones and uneven ledges below. But the distance was
short, and Thurston was a strong swimmer, so almost before the man had
risen, he was within a few yards of the struggling figure. Hardly had
Geoffrey clutched the man before Mattawa Tom, who had, meantime, run
down stream, whirling a coil of line, loosed it, and the folds, well
directed, shot through the air towards Geoffrey, uncoiling as they
came. By good fortune Thurston was able to seize the end and to pass
it around them both, when--for Gillow had by this time joined his
companion--the two men blundered backwards up the contracted beach, and
Thurston and the fugitive were drawn shorewards together, until their
feet struck bottom.
Breathless and dripping, they staggered out, and, because Geoffrey
still clutched the stranger's jacket, the man said:
"Mightily obliged to you! But you can let up now there's no more
swimming. I couldn't run very far, if it was worth while trying to."
"You needn't trouble to thank me," was the answer. "It wasn't because
I thought the world would miss you that I went into the water; but I
can't expect much sense from a half-drowned man. Do you think the rest
of the boys have heard us, Tom?"
The foreman glanced towards the tents clustered in the mouth of a
ravine above, and seeing no sign of life there, shook his head,
whereupon Geoffrey directed:
"Take him quietly to the cook-shed, and give him some whiskey. I've no
doubt that in spite of my orders you have some. Lend him dry clothes,
and bring him along to my shanty as soon as he's ready. Meantime,
rouse the maintenance foreman, and, if any wedges have worked loose,
let him drive them home."
"You're a nice man," commented Mattawa Tom, surveying the stranger
disgustedly as the man stood with the water draining from him in the
cook-shed. "Here, get into these things and keep them as a present. I
wouldn't like the feel of them after they'd been on to you."
"That's all right!" was the cool answer. "I expect the game's up, and
I'm quite ready to buy them of you. By the way, partner, you helped
your boss to pull me out, didn't you? As I said before, I'm not great
on swimming."
"I'm almost sorry I had to," said Mattawa Tom, who was a loyal
partisan. "But don't call me 'partner,' or there'll be trouble."
The stranger laughed, as, after a glass of hot liquor, he arrayed
himself beside the banked-up stove, and presently marched under escort
towards Thurston's wood and bark winter dwelling. Mattawa Tom followed
close behind him with a big ax on his shoulder.
"I might be a panther you'd corralled. How do you know I haven't a
pistol in my pocket, if it was any use turning ugly?" the prisoner
inquired.
"I'm quite certain about you, because your pistol is in my pocket," was
the dry answer, and Tom chuckled. "You weren't quite smart enough when
you slipped off your jacket."
From the door of his shanty, Thurston called them, and Mattawa,
thrusting his prisoner in, proceeded to mount guard close outside until
Thurston reappeared to ask angrily:
"What are you doing there?"
"I figured you might want me, sir. That man's not to be trusted,"
answered Tom, and Thurston laughed as he said:
"Go back, see that the maintenance man has made a good job of the
wedges, and if any of the boys should ask questions you'll tell
them--nothing," Geoffrey commanded. "You don't suppose I've suddenly
grown helpless, do you?"
Mattawa Tom withdrew with much reluctance, and it was long before any
person knew exactly what Geoffrey and the stranger said to each other,
though Gillow informed his comrade that the captured man said to him,
by way of explanation before sleeping:
"Your boss is considerably too smart a man for me to bluff, and I've
kind of decided to help him. Shouldn't wonder if he didn't beat my
last one, who would have seen me roasted before he'd have gone into a
river for me. I'm not fond of being left out in the rain with the
losing side, either, see? It's not my tip to talk too much, and I
guess that's about good enough for you."
"You're going to help him!" commented Gillow, ironically. "All things
considered, that's very kind of you."
Next morning Thurston, who summoned the cook and foreman before him,
said: "I want you two to keep what happened last night a close secret,
and while I cannot tell you much, I may say that the man who will
remain in camp was, as you have no doubt guessed, only the cat's paw of
several speculators, whom it wouldn't suit to see our employer, Savine,
successful."
"But mightn't he try the same game again?" asked Mattawa, and Thurston
answered:
"He might, but I hardly think he will. I intend to keep him here under
my own eyes until I want him. There's no particular reason why you
shouldn't see that he earns his wages, Tom. Gillow, it's perhaps not
wholly unfortunate you dropped him into the river."
"Kind of trump ace up your sleeve!" suggested Mattawa, and his master
answered with a smile:
"Not exactly. The other side is quite smart enough to know who holds
the aces; but I fancy the complete disappearance of this few-spot card
will puzzle them. Now, forget all about it. I wouldn't have said so
much, but that I know I can trust you two!"