THE CHINOOK WIND
The frost got more rigorous, drying the snow to a dusty powder in which
Festing's lumber gang floundered awkwardly. Had there been a thaw, the
surface would have hardened, but now they were forced to move the logs
through loose, billowy drifts. The men sank to their knees, it was
difficult to find a fulcrum for the handspikes, and the logs would not
run well on the beaten roads. The latter broke into holes, and the dry
snow retarded the smooth sliding of the lumber like dust. One could not
touch a saw or ax-head with the naked hand.
Festing had seen that he might be embarrassed by hard frost, but had not
expected it to continue. On the central tablelands of British Columbia
winter is severe, but near the coast and in valleys open to the West
the mitigating warmth of the Pacific is often felt. He had imagined that
when his work upon the track was hindered the snow would help him to
bring down lumber ready for use when a thaw set in. Now, however, wages
were mounting up and little work was being done. He began to wonder what
would happen if a change did not come.
One morning he knelt in a hole below the track, holding a drill. He wore
mittens, but the back of one was split and showed a raw bruise on
his skin. It needs practise to hit the end of a drill squarely, and
Charnock, who swung the big hammer, had missed. The worst was that the
bruise would not heal while the temperature kept low. They were sinking
a hole through frozen gravel that was worse to cut than rock, because
the drill jambed in the crevices and would not turn. But for the frost,
they need not have used the tool; a hole for the post they meant to put
in could have been made with a shovel, without using expensive powder.
When he thought they had gone deep enough Festing got up and looked
about. White peaks glittered against a vivid blue sky. The pines
sparkled with frost and the snow in their shadow was a soft gray. The
river looked as black as ink, except where it foamed among the rocks,
and the gorge echoed with the crash of drifting ice that shocked and
splintered on the ledges. The light was strong, and rocks and trees far
up the slopes stood out, harshly distinct. As he turned to the West,
however, he noted a faint haziness and shading off in the outline of the
hills.
“I don't know if that softness means anything, and hardly believe it
does,” he said. “When I made up the wages book last night and saw what
the work we have been able to do has cost us, I got a shock. The boys
are a pretty good crowd, and if we pay them off we won't get them back;
but it's obvious we can't go on long like this.”
Charnock nodded. “How much money have we left?”
When Festing told him he looked thoughtful. “I didn't know things were
quite as bad! Well, I suppose I could get another cheque, but don't want
to put too much strain on Sadie's generosity. She might imagine I'd
got on a jag! There are drawbacks to having a character like mine; it's
easier lived up to than got rid of. However, what do you suggest?”
“We'll hold on while the money lasts.”
“The plan's simple, as far as it goes. It's remarkable how short a time
money does last and how hard it is to earn. Sadie misled me about that;
she used to hint that I had only to apply my talents and pick up the
cash; but since she's a business woman, she ought to have known better.
The virtuous path is about as rocky as luck can make it; but perhaps you
take something for granted if you allow that making money is virtuous.”
Festing frowned impatiently. “One ought to pay one's debts.”
“One's generally forced,” Charnock replied. “But I think I see what
you mean. We undertook this contract and must carry it out if possible.
Sadie would agree. She's like her father, and the old man often said:
'It's safe to deal with Keller's. When you put up the money, we put up
the goods.' But let's get the powder.”
Opening a box, he took out a stick of yellow material that looked rather
like a thick candle. A big copper cap was squeezed into one end, and
from the cap there trailed a length of black fuse. Festing put the stick
into the hole and cautiously filled this up with frozen soil, leaving a
short piece of fuse sticking out. While he was feeling for his matches
Kerr arrived.
“You are making trouble for me,” the latter began. “You did the square
thing in pulling out the weak frames, but they're not replaced, and I
can't run the gravel train across the spot. As the back track is nearly
ballasted up, I don't know how I'm going to use the locomotive and
cars.”
“The frost is stopping us,” said Festing. “It is not our fault.”
“That's so, but my chiefs at headquarters don't want to know whose fault
it is. Their method, as you ought to know, is statistical--we're given
a number of men and tools, and the value of the work done must equal the
expense. It's the only standard for judging an engineer. His business
is to overcome the difficulties, and if he's unable he's obviously of no
use.”
Charnock grinned. “Employers' logic! Piffle of that kind only goes when
there are more engineers than jobs. I imagine there'll be a change some
day.”
“I'm sorry Dalton's gone back,” Kerr resumed. “He's a friend of yours,
and would have seen what we're all up against. But there's another
thing; the boys are beginning to kick. We have had to lay off the
ballast gang for a day now and then, and they claim they're not getting
a square deal. One fellow told me we oughtn't to have given the contract
to a man without capital to carry him over a set-back. He said if you'd
had money you could have hired extra labor and kept to schedule, and in
the end it wouldn't have cost you more.”
“The argument is sound,” Festing agreed. “In fact, it shows more
understanding than I'd expect the boys to use.”
Kerr looked hard at him. “I suspect that somebody is stirring them up.
You see, they haven't demanded more wages yet; they only claim that I
ought to hustle you.”
“The fellow's object isn't very plain, but I've no doubt the demand for
bigger pay will come. Well, we can't hire more help, and if there's no
change soon, the frost will break us without your bothering. We'll do
our best until then.”
“We'll leave it at that,” said Kerr, with a sympathetic nod; and when he
went away Charnock turned to Festing.
“Wilkinson's the man, and as the boys have a real grievance he'll find
them easy to work on. That means I've got to write to Sadie.”
“No,” said Festing. “If you write, I stop. Your wife has sent you money
enough, and I'm afraid some of it is lost. We must trust to luck, and in
the meantime we'll fire the shot.”
He blew a whistle and then striking a match lighted the fuse and hurried
away. A minute or two later, lumps of frozen gravel flew about the track
and showers of smaller fragments scattered the snow. As Festing came out
of his shelter a man with an angry look advanced along the line.
“Why don't you warn folks before you shoot off your rocks?” he asked.
“My partner whistled,” Charnock answered. “What's the matter, anyhow?
Did the shot jar your nerves?”
“A rock a foot across mighty near jarred my head! A smaller piece got me
plumb on the ribs.”
Festing thought this unlikely, in view of the fellow's distance from the
explosion, but could not be certain he was not struck.
“I'm sorry if you got hurt,” he said. “You ought to have heard the
whistle.”
“Anyhow, I didn't. You want to stop shooting rocks when there are men
around. Then you've mussed up the track and can't put her straight. Why
don't you hire more boys and rush the job? Can't see why the bosses let
two deadbeats like you and your partner have the contract!”
“We have got it. How we mean to carry it out is our business, not
yours.”
“Then it's certainly our business if we work or not,” the other
rejoined. “As the bosses will find out if they reckon we're going to
lose our time to help you save your dollars!”
He went away grumbling, and Charnock looked at Festing.
“Was that bluff? Do you think he means it?”
“I don't know. They haven't lost much time through our fault, but the
frost has interfered with other jobs, and I expect there'll be trouble
if it lasts. I'm puzzled, because they're not a bad-tempered lot, and I
understand that Wilkinson is not a favorite. Your throwing him down the
bank wouldn't strengthen his influence.”
“It's easy to work on men's feelings when they're discontented,”
Charnock replied. “The worst is that Kerr can't stand by us if the gang
put down their tools. Labor's scarce in the mountains, and he'll be
forced to do what they want.”
Festing gloomily agreed. “I'm afraid so. However, we must do the best we
can in the time we have left.”
They worked by a blast-lamp until late at night and began again before
daybreak in the morning. The weakened frame had been replaced, but
others needed strengthening and the rockwork must be built up among the
timbers. The stones required careful fitting, and it was impossible to
dress them to rough shape. The frozen surface resisted the tool and
they broke if much force was used. Fires were made, but the rock thawed
irregularly and much time was lost.
Festing's bruised hand gave him trouble, his mittens wore to rags,
and his numbed fingers cracked and bled, but he worked savagely until
evening. Then he walked stiffly to the shack and sat, dejected and
aching, looking at the food on the table. Although he had eaten little
all day, it cost him something of an effort to begin his meal.
An hour afterward he heard steps and voices outside and opened the door.
The light shone out from behind him and he saw a group of dark figures
in the snow.
“Well, boys,” he asked, “what do you want?”
“We want to know when you're going to fix the track,” one replied.
“That's easily answered. We mean to put it right as soon as we can.”
“Not good enough!” remarked another. “We've got to know when.”
“Then I'm sorry I can't tell you. It depends on the weather.”
Some of them growled, and Festing felt Charnock's hand close warningly
on his arm.
“Won't you come into the light, boys?” the latter asked. “I'd like to
know to whom I'm talking.”
They did not move, and Charnock resumed: “Have you brought your foreman
or Wilkinson?”
Somebody said neither had come, and Charnock nodded.
“Well, I reckon they know what's best for them! Wilkinson doesn't like
me, but he's not looking for more trouble; I imagine he's had enough.
Then the foreman's not a friend of mine, but he has a better job than
yours and means to hold it down. If you get up against the bosses, he's
not going to be fired.”
There was silence, and he saw his remarks had not been wasted. He had
hinted that the men were being used and given them ground to distrust
their leaders.
“I half expected another fellow, a friend of Wilkinson's, who claimed he
had been hit by a stone. Has he come along?”
“Said he was too sore and would have to lay off to-morrow,” one replied.
“That's another thing. When you shoot off your blasts you have got to
watch out that nobody gets hurt.”
“Sure,” agreed Charnock. “We did watch out and blew the whistle; but we
want to do the square thing. If Pearson got hurt and can't work, let him
show you the bruise. We'll stand for his pay until you think he's fit to
begin again.”
“That's fair,” admitted the other with a laugh. “He wasn't showing the
bruise much. Say, you're pretty smart!”
“I hope so,” said Charnock, modestly. “Looks as if I needed all the
smartness I've got. We're up against the weather and a big awkward job,
and then you come along and worry us! However, what are you going to do
about it if we can't put the rails down as soon as you want?”
“We'll make the bosses break your contract.”
Charnock pondered, keeping his hand on Festing's arm, because he thought
he could handle the matter better than his comrade. Festing was too
blunt and sometimes got angry. He saw that the men were determined,
but while they had, no doubt, been worked upon, he thought they had no
personal grudge against him or his partner.
“There's only one way you could put the screw to the bosses, and that
way's dangerous. The _Colonist_ states that they have a number of men
unemployed in the coast towns. If Kerr wrote to a labor agent, he'd send
him up a crowd.”
“It would cost him high to bring the men here, and take some time.”
“That is so,” Charnock agreed. He saw the others had made their plans
and calculated the pressure they could put upon the engineers. Time was
important, and he thought the foreman had helped them to estimate the
expense the company would incur by the delay before they could get new
men.
“Putting down your tools would cost you something,” he resumed. “How
long do you imagine it would take to persuade Kerr?”
“I guess a week would fix him; he wouldn't stand for a fortnight.”
“Very well! I don't suppose your object is to put us off the road;
you want what you're entitled to. So do we all, and though it's often
troublesome to get, there's no use in taking the hardest way. If you
stop, you lose a fortnight's wages and somebody will get fired. Not now,
of course, but afterwards; the bosses know their job. Well, give us ten
days, and the time you miss won't run to many dollars. If we can't put
the rails down then, we'll quit.”
There was silence for a moment, and then somebody said, “We'll let it go
at that. It's a deal!”
The others growled consent and Charnock waited until they moved away,
after which he shut the door and sat down wearily.
“You took the right line,” Festing said.
“I hesitated about fixing the time, but we can't go on much longer.”
“No,” said Festing. “Well, we have ten days!”
They said nothing more and soon afterwards went to bed. Next morning
there was a marked haziness in the west, but the frost was keener. It
looked as if they must be beaten, although they meant to fight until
defeat was sure, and Festing was surprised when he glanced at his
comrade. This was not the careless lounger he had known. Charnock's
face was grim and somewhat pinched; his hands were torn and bruised.
He picked the heaviest stones to lift and was the first to take hold of
ponderous beams. Festing owned that he had misjudged Charnock, but
not more than he had misjudged himself. His farming had been a rash
experiment and the contract a reckless gamble; the one threatened to end
as badly as the other. Then Bob had somehow kept his wife's love, and
he, with senseless obstinacy, had estranged Helen.
His thoughts were depressing, but they drove him on. Hope was dead; he
had made a horrible mess of things. All that was left was to take his
punishment and hold on until he was knocked out, but he meant to do
this. He did not stop for dinner with the rest, but occupied himself
with something that needed doing, and forgot that he had gone without
the meal. Afterwards a pain began in his left side, but he had other
aches, and the extra discomfort did not trouble him much. In the
afternoon he worked with a kind of sudden fury, and when at length the
tired men dropped their tools found some difficulty in straightening
his back. He had never used his muscles as he had done for the past few
days, but the strain would soon be over.
It was unusually dark when he went up the hill to the shack. The pines
rose in blurred masses from the shadowy snow and he could not see the
hollow of the path. Supper was a melancholy meal, but he ate because he
was hungry, and afterwards dragged his chair to the fire. There was a
great pile of crackling logs and the blaze flickered about the room, but
bitter draughts came in beneath the door.
“An open fire's of no use; I thought about getting a stove,” he said,
and paused with a dreary smile. “It's lucky I didn't send the order!”
“You may need it yet,” Charnock replied. “Somehow we'll put the rails
down in time.”
Festing did not answer and picked up a newspaper. He did not want to
read, but could not sleep, although he was very tired, and felt he
must have some relief from his anxious thoughts. The newspaper was
a _Colonist_ that had left Victoria some days before, and he read it
methodically from the first column, trying to fix his attention on
things that had happened in remote mining settlements and market
reports. His efforts were mechanical, but he long afterwards remembered
what he read and how he dully followed the arguments in an article on
political reform. Indeed, when he saw the _Colonist_ his imagination
carried him back to the log-walled hut, and he felt something of the
dazed hopelessness that blunted his senses then.
In the meantime, Charnock, half asleep, lounged with his legs stretched
out to the fire. The logs snapped and a fitful wind stirred the tops of
the pines. Now and then some snow fell from a branch and a loose roofing
shingle rattled, but by degrees the sounds died away. Everything was
strangely quiet, except for the roar of the river, which had got more
distinct. Charnock shivered and felt a puzzling tension. It was often
calm at night, particularly in hard frost, but he felt as if something
was going to happen. Looking up, he saw Festing nod with his eyes half
shut, and felt for his tobacco.
While he cut the plug, the silence was broken. There was a humming in
the pine tops and light branches began to toss. The draught from the
door got stronger, but did not bite as keenly, and it sounded as if the
snow was falling from the trees. Then some slipped down the roof, and
getting up with tingling nerves, he opened the door. All the trees were
rustling and waves of sound came up the valley. The sound swelled, the
air felt damp, and a drop of moisture from the roof splashed upon his
head. He drew a deep breath of relief, for a warm wind from the Pacific
was roaring through the defile. Then Festing dropped the newspaper.
“Why have you opened the door?” he asked drowsily, and got up with a
jerk as the draught swept the smoke about the room.
“A Chinook!” he exclaimed, and ran to the door. “We'll have rain and
warmth while it blows.”
“It's great!” said Charnock hoarsely. “We are through the worst!” Then
he caught Festing's arm and laughed. “Say something wise, partner; I
want to shout and dance.”
“You had better go to bed. It will be thawing hard to-morrow, and
there's much to be done. A Chinook doesn't last long in the mountains.”
“This Chinook is going to last until we put the rails down,” Charnock
replied.