FESTING'S NEW PARTNER
Charnock felt better next morning and luck favored him. An accident
to the gravel train disorganized the work, and he and some others were
dismissed for the afternoon. He went to Festing's shack, and making
himself comfortable by the fire, opened a tattered book and enjoyed
several hours of luxurious idleness. After his exertions in the rain and
mud, it was delightful to bask in warmth and comfort and rest his aching
limbs. The next day was Sunday and he lounged about the shack, sometimes
reading and sometimes bantering his comrade. The pain had gone and he
felt cheerful.
When he returned to work on Monday he was sent with a bag of bolts to
the bridge, and presently reached a spot where the heavy rain had washed
away the track. For about a dozen yards the terrace cut in the hillside
had slipped down, leaving a narrow shelf against the bank. The shelf
broke off near the middle, where a gully had opened in the hill. Water
flowed through the gap, and in order to get across one must pick a
way carefully over the steep, wet slope. This, however, would save a
toilsome climb, and Charnock, jerking the bag higher on his shoulders,
went on.
A few minutes later he saw Wilkinson come round a corner. One of them
would have to go back to let the other pass, and it would be difficult
to turn if they met at the gully. Charnock did not mean to give way, and
with his arms crooked to support his load, he required some room.
There was no way up the torn bank, and on the other side a nearly
perpendicular slope of wet soil and gravel ran down to the river. In
places, the surface was broken by small, half-buried firs.
When both were near the gully Wilkinson stopped, and Charnock, whose
head was bent, thought he had not known who he was. He certainly looked
surprised, and Charnock was conscious of rather grim amusement as he
guessed the reason. Wilkinson had, no doubt, not expected him to be
capable of carrying a heavy bag along the dangerous ledge.
“Hallo!” he said. “The boys told me you were crippled by your pains.”
“I was. The pain's gone.”
“Rest's a good cure,” said Wilkinson. “You got laid off on Saturday,
didn't you?”
The curiosity that had made Charnock stop was satisfied. Since
Wilkinson's work kept him at some distance from the gravel gang, it
looked as if he had made inquiries about Charnock, and had probably been
surprised to learn he had started with the others. There was, however,
no use in taxing the fellow with trying to make him drunk, because he
would deny that he knew anything about the whisky or declare that he had
sent it with a friendly object.
“Yes,” he said, “but I didn't need the cure as badly as you think.
However, I'm not in a talkative mood and this bag is heavy. I'll trouble
you to get out of the way.”
Wilkinson looked hard at him. Charnock knew why he had sent the whisky
and meant to quarrel, but was shrewd enough to choose his ground.
“You can dump your bag and wait until I get past.”
“Not at all,” said Charnock. “I don't see why I should pick up the load
again to convenience you. Anyhow, I'm going on, and the thing takes up
some room.”
Wilkinson measured the distance across the gap. He imagined he could
reach the other side first and squeeze against the bank, when Charnock
must take the outside and would probably fall. He did not mean to be
forced back, particularly as there were men at work not far off who had,
no doubt, noted Charnock's aggressive attitude. The latter, however, was
quicker than he thought, and reached the dangerous spot before Wilkinson
got across. Splashing, and slipping in the mud, he advanced recklessly,
and Wilkinson could not turn back. Moreover, he could not strike
Charnock, because he was in the workmen's view, and the railroaders
would not approve his attacking an apparently defenseless man. He
thought Charnock knew this, but the fellow was not as defenseless as he
looked. The heavy bag gave him a certain stability and momentum.
“If you come any farther before I find a hold, we'll both go down,” he
said.
“It looks like that,” Charnock agreed. “I don't mean to stop.”
Wilkinson clutched at the slippery bank but the wet gravel tore out. It
was impossible to get up, and if he tried to scramble down, he might not
stop until he fell into the river. He glanced at Charnock's set face and
got something of a shock. He had thought the fellow meant to bluff and
would give way if he were resolutely met; Charnock was impulsive, but
never stayed with a thing. Now, however, he looked dangerous.
Driving his boots into the mud, Wilkinson braced himself, with one foot
so placed that it might trip his antagonist. Then he set his lips as
he met the shock. Charnock struck him with his shoulder and forced him
backwards by the weight of the bag. The mud slipped under his feet; he
staggered and clawed at the bank, but his fingers found no hold. They
plowed through the miry gravel, and falling face downwards, he rolled
down the hill.
Charnock lurched across the gully and stopped when he reached the shelf.
Wilkinson had swung round on his descent and his head was lowest. He
was sliding down rather slower, and there were some trees not far off.
Charnock did not care if he brought up among them or not, and watched
with a curious dispassionate interest. The fellow looked ridiculous
as he went down, scattering the gravel with his hands. He was in some
danger, but this was his affair.
Wilkinson rolled against the thin branches of a half-buried tree, which
caught and turned him partly round. The branches broke and he went down
sideways, until he and a wave of loosened gravel struck another tree.
This stopped him, and Charnock plodded on until he was off the shelf.
“Better go down and fetch him, boys,” he shouted to the other men. “I
reckon he's not much the worse, except in temper, and you'll find a rope
a piece back up the track.”
He saw them start and then resumed his journey. Whether he was hurt or
not, Wilkinson could talk, for he was pouring out scurrilous epithets.
Charnock laughed as he stamped through the mud. His antagonist had
got the worst of it, and there was a satisfactory explanation of their
quarrel. They had met on a narrow path and neither would give way, but
as Charnock was carrying the load he had put the other in the wrong.
Wilkinson could not revenge himself by circulating the story he had
told before because it would interest nobody at the camp, and Charnock's
friendship with Festing would prove it untrue. In fact, he imagined
Wilkinson would think it prudent to leave him alone.
He delivered the bag, and going back stopped at a spot where Festing and
some others were fitting the end of a heavy beam into a pole. Charnock
watched while the men dragged out the beam and then replaced it after
deepening the hole. They were splashed and dirty, and presently Festing
leaned upon his shovel while he got his breath.
“You seem determined to fix it properly,” Charnock remarked.
Festing nodded. “There's no use in piling rock about half-bedded frames.
It would mean trouble if they gave way under a freight train.”
“You look ahead. The first difficulty is that if the frames don't hold
up, you won't get paid. The engineers are responsible after the regular
traffic starts, and I've no doubt they test a contractor's work. You
would save something in wages if you built a pile-driver to sink those
posts.”
“I haven't the men or time. If I don't get this part of the work done
before the frost comes, it's going to cost me more. It would mean using
powder and making fires to thaw out the ground.”
Charnock agreed and went on. He had been long enough over his errand and
the foreman's tongue was sharp, but he mused about Festing as he picked
his way across the pools between the ties. Festing's object was to make
money, and he imagined, perhaps foolishly, that he had urgent ground for
doing so, but he meant to make a good job. He felt his responsibility,
and apart from this took a curious delight in doing things well. In
fact, Festing's thoroughness was rather fine; he was an artist in his
way. The artist's methods, however, were not as a rule profitable
when applied to contract work. Then Charnock's meditations were rudely
disturbed, for he heard a shout and saw the foreman had noted his
cautious advance.
“Watch him coming, boys!” the latter remarked. “Like a blamed cat that's
scared of wetting its pretty feet! Say, do you want a private car
to move you along the track? Jump now and load up that trolley, you
soft-bodied slob!”
Charnock obeyed, promptly and silently. He had, at first, responded
to encouragement of this kind by a witty retort, but had found the
consequences unfortunate. There was no use in wasting delicate satire on
a dolt. Besides, it was a relief to feel he was getting better and was
able to work.
In the afternoon, he had occasion to pass the spot where Festing was
occupied, and stopped to watch. The men were getting a big log on end;
two steadying it and supporting part of the weight by a tackle fixed
to its top, while Festing and another guided its foot into a hole. The
ground was wet and slippery and their task looked almost beyond their
strength, but Charnock knew he would get into trouble if he were seen
going to their help. Since he was not in view of the foreman where he
stood on top of the bank, it was prudent to remain there.
The log swayed as its point caught a stone, and Festing's hands slipped
on the muddy bank. He shouted to the men at the tackle, who bent their
backs and hauled, but the timber did not rise as it ought. Charnock,
looking round, noted that the stake the tackle was fastened to was
pulling out.
“Get from under! She's coming down on top of you!” he cried.
Festing looked up and saw the danger; but if the log fell it would not
stop until it and the tackle plunged into the rapid below.
“Stay with it!” he gasped; and he and his companions braced themselves
against the crushing weight.
The veins rose on his forehead. His back was arched and his wet slickers
split, but it was plain to Charnock that the men could not hold up the
timber, which would injure them if it fell. But with help they might
perhaps move it enough for the point to sink into the hole before the
tackle gave way, and Charnock leaped recklessly from the top of the
bank. He knew what he was undertaking when he took hold. Festing would
not let go; he meant to put the log into its socket, or let it start on
its plunge to the river over his body.
For a few tense moments they struggled savagely, with slipping hands and
labored breath, while Festing, using his head as a ram, pushed the point
of the swaying mass nearer the hole. Then, when all could do no more,
the strain suddenly slackened and there was a jar as the log, sliding
through their arms, sank into the pit. After this, it was easier to hold
it, while one threw in and beat down the gravel. Five minutes later,
Charnock sat down on the bank. His face was crimson, his hands bled,
and his chest heaved as he fought for breath, but he felt ridiculously
satisfied.
“Thanks!” gasped Festing. “Lucky you came along. I thought she was
going!”
“Blamed silly thing not to let her go,” Charnock replied. “Some day your
confounded obstinacy will ruin you. Anyhow, we've put her in. Not bad
for a cripple!”
Then he sucked his torn fingers, and fearing that he might have to
account for the delay, went about his business. It was curious that the
tense exertion had not brought on the pain, but his back and shoulders
were sore when he went to Festing's shack in the evening. The small,
earth-floored room was dry and warm, and smelt pleasantly of resinous
wood. They did not light the lamp, for although it was dark the red
glow of the fire flickered about the walls. Charnock felt a comforting
sensation of bodily ease as he lounged in his chair, and when he had
smoked a pipe told Festing about his encounter with Wilkinson.
“I imagine the brute isn't hurt much, but don't know if I'm glad or
not,” he said. “He looked remarkably funny as he slid down the bank,
with his arms and legs spread out like a frog. Suppose I should have
thought about the risk of his tobogganing into the river, but I didn't.”
“Well, I expect he deserves all he got, and remember the satisfaction
it gave me to throw him out of the poolroom. Looks as if we were
primitive.”
“We're all primitive in this country,” Charnock rejoined. “They have no
use for philosophical refinement in Canada. Their objects are plain
and practical and they employ simple means. We're not bothered by the
conventions that handicap you at home. If a man hurts you, and you're
big enough, you knock him out.”
“We have both knocked out Wilkinson, but I'm not sure that we have done
with him. The simple plan's not always as easy as it looks.”
“I don't think he can make much trouble. If he does, one of us will
knock him out again. As it will hurt us less than it hurts him, he'll
probably get tired first.”
They let the matter drop, and Festing presently remarked: “The rain
makes things difficult, but it's lucky the frost keeps off. I must try
to get the frames up at the awkward places before it begins.”
“You haven't enough men.”
“I could use more. Still, one couldn't engage men to come here on short
notices, and if we get a long cold-snap I might have trouble to keep
them employed. I could, of course, use a number of men and teams hauling
out logs across the snow, but the heavier stuff won't be needed for some
time, and I can't lock up my money. The small man's trouble is generally
to finance his undertaking.”
Charnock looked thoughtful. “Yes; that's where the pinch comes. You
can't work economically unless you have capital. Sadie's a good business
woman, and she often said that if you want to save dollars, you must
spend some.”
“Much depends on how you spend.”
“Just so,” said Charnock, smiling. “Betting against marked cards doesn't
pay, but I've stopped that kind of thing. However, I think I could get
you the money you need.”
Festing looked hard at him. “You have none.”
“Sadie has a pile. She'd give me enough with pleasure if she thought it
would help towards my reform. But if you take the dollars, you've got to
take me.”
“Ah!” said Festing. “But why do you want to join?”
“To begin with, I'm getting avaricious and want to go home with my
wallet full. Then I'm tired of my job. I suppose it's a foreman's
privilege to insult his gang, but the brute we've got is about the
limit. He's truculent but not very big, and some day, if I stop on,
I'll pitch the hog into the river. Then I'll certainly get fired, and
there'll be an end to my dreams of wealth.”
Festing was silent for a few moments. He understood Charnock better now,
and knew that when he was serious he often used a careless tone. Bob
wanted to help him as much as he wanted to help himself, and he saw no
reason to reject his plan. He must, however, be warned.
“If you join me, you run some risk of losing your money.”
“Of course. It's obvious that you don't think the risk very big, and I'm
willing to take a fighting chance.”
“I don't know how big it is. That depends on the weather and accidents.”
“Exactly,” said Charnock. “If I join you with some money and teams, will
it lessen, or add to, the risk?”
“It will lessen the risk.”
“Will it reduce, or increase, your working costs?”
“I think the answer's obvious.”
“Then it looks as if you'd be foolish to turn my offer down.”
Festing got up and walked about irresolutely for a moment or two. Then
he stopped with some color in his face.
“I called you a shirker, Bob, and ordered Helen to leave you alone. Now
I see you're the better man and I'm a confounded, fault-finding prig.
But you're not vindictive, and we'll let that go. The trouble is,
I'm obstinate and sure of what I can do--at least, I was, though my
confidence has got shaken recently. Well, I think I can finish this
contract, but don't know. I've lost a good deal of money, and would hate
to feel I might lose yours.”
“That's the line you took with Helen,” Charnock rejoined. “I'm not
surprised that she was vexed, and since we're being frank, you're
a little too proud of yourself yet. Anyhow, I like a plunge; it's
exhilarating, and there's not much excitement in betting on a
certainty.” He paused and resumed with a twinkle: “Besides, if there is
a loss, Sadie will stand for it.”
Festing gave him a puzzled look, and he laughed.
“You don't understand yet? You're dull, Stephen. Now I'm not a greedy
fellow, and my chief use for dollars is to spend them. I want to
take back some money to show Sadie I've made good, and if we put this
contract over she'll be satisfied and you'll have her gratitude. That's
why I mean to make a job if I join you, and I imagine you're with me
there. Well, perhaps I've said enough. Is it a bargain?”
“Yes,” said Festing quietly, and they shook hands.