THE THAW
When Festing went out at daybreak the air was soft, and drops from the
wet pines fell into the honeycombed snow. The surface was turning to
slush, but he knew it would wear down into a slippery mass on which the
logs would run. This was fortunate, because he doubted if labor could
be usefully employed upon the stones just yet. For a few moments he
pondered the matter and listened to the river's turmoil. The deep,
booming note was sharper, water splashed noisily in the gullies, and
there was a ringing crash as an ice-floe broke upon a rock. Then he
turned as Charnock came up.
“Which is it--logs or stones?” the latter asked.
“Logs, I think; we can handle them easily,” Festing replied. “The other
job is urgent, but the thaw has only begun, and when the ground gets
properly soft we'll do twice as much as we could now. Still, there's
a risk. We could make some progress with the track, and the warm spell
mayn't last.”
“Take the risk,” said Charnock with a laugh. “There's not much fun in
playing for safety, and you don't get far that way, while when you try
to foresee things you generally see them wrong. But let's be practical!
As soon as the ground is soft enough we'll ask leave to hire half the
gravel gang. That will make friends of the opposition and won't put
up our wages bill. If you double your helpers, you halve the working
hours.”
“Obviously. But you have to pay the larger number all at once. Where's
the money coming from?”
“From the head contractor. We'll try to make Norton sign for an interim
payment. Let's go and see him.”
Festing was doubtful, but they found Norton, the contractor's engineer,
more compliant than he hoped.
“I suppose you are entitled to ask for a sum on account, but I'd take
some responsibility in allowing the demand,” he said. “Why did you come
to me now?”
“We want to be just,” Charnock answered modestly. “At present, there's
no prospect of our finishing the work we ask the money for.”
“It doesn't go much beyond a prospect yet,” Norton rejoined. “However,
I'll help you if I can, and will see what Kerr thinks. He's the man we
have both to satisfy in the end.”
They went to work up the hill in the melting snow, and soon their
clothes were dripping and their long boots soaked. At first, the logs
vanished in the drifts through which they tried to roll them, and the
horses slipped and floundered in the slush, but this flowed away and
left a harder layer that was presently beaten firm. The surface turned
black and compressed into ice, and before long rows of heavy logs
plunged down the skids. Every moment must be turned to good account, and
Festing stopped and went down reluctantly when Kerr sent for him.
“I've seen Norton and he thinks we ought to help you out,” Kerr
remarked. “Though he argues from single instances, his judgment's often
good, and he seems convinced you can be trusted because you saved a skip
of his. Of course, I had my opinion; but as he represents the contractor
you are working for, I couldn't urge him.”
“Thanks!” said Festing. “I wish I'd brought Charnock; he'd deal with
this better.”
Kerr laughed. “Your partner has some talents and seems to have made
Norton and my storekeepers his friends. If he hadn't, there might have
been trouble about certain irregularities. However, you can have the
gravel gang if I'm forced to lay the boys off, and as soon as we can run
the train over the repaired track you'll get your cheque.”
Festing went away, feeling satisfied, but not without some anxiety. He
could not urge Norton to go farther than his employer would approve, and
the payment agreed upon was small. Besides, if the frost returned before
he had made the track secure, he would have spent enough money in
extra wages to prevent his going on, and should this happen it might be
difficult to obtain payment for other work already completed. He would
be at the mercy of Norton's employer, who might contend that by throwing
up his contract he had forfeited his claim. It was obvious that he must
make the utmost use of every hour of open weather, and for the rest of
the day he worked with a stubborn energy that conquered fatigue.
For a time, the logs went screaming and grinding down the skids, but
darkness made launching them dangerous, and they could not light the
lumber road on the hill. They worked in the dark, rolling out the sawn
trunks from among the brush and melting snow until there was room to
hook on the team. Then the driver, walking by his horses' heads,
felt with his feet for the hollowed track, and losing it now and
then embedded his load in snow. Then he called for help, and men with
cantpoles laboriously hove the ponderous mass back to the road.
The work was worse on the inclines, where the logs ran smoothly and
there was a risk of their overtaking the horses. Rain had begun to fall
and one could not see the obstacles, but there were pitches where one
must go fast in order to keep in front of the dangerous loads. But risks
must be run in lumbering, and Festing felt that rashness was justified.
Speed was the thing that counted most.
When supper time drew near, men and horses were worn out, and Festing
knew that if he urged the former to continue he could not do much
without the teams. There were, however, a few logs he meant to haul
to the skidway before he stopped, and he had some misgivings when he
started with the last. It was an unusually large trunk, and the tired
horses floundered as they tightened the chain. Thawing snow when beaten
hard is as slippery as ice, but the animals kept their feet and the mass
began to move. Festing got a firm grip on the near horse's bridle and
plodded forward cautiously, with the rain in his face when he crossed
the openings in the wood. The snow reflected a puzzling glimmer, but the
darkness was thick among the trees, and drops from the shaking branches
fell into his eyes. Turning his hat-brim down, he felt for the edge of
the trail.
By and by he stopped at the top of a descent. The gray snow looked all
the same, and the hollow track vanished a few yards in front; the
rows of trunks had faded into a vague dark mass, and the branches met
overhead in a thick canopy. The horses were big, valuable Percherons,
but they were exhausted and stood slackly, with steam rising from their
foam-flecked coats. Festing did not like the look of the dip, and knew
the trees grew close upon the track at the bottom, but he must go down,
and shouted to the hesitating animals.
They moved faster; the log grinding heavily across the snow behind. Then
the strain on the chain slackened, and he dragged at the bridle as he
began to run. The log could not be stopped now; it was moving faster
than he had thought, and all that he could do was to keep the team in
front. His feet slipped on the icy trail, and the horses floundered, but
they knew the danger and broke into a clumsy trot. It was hard to keep
up, but Festing must hold them to the track and steer them round a bend
ahead.
The log lurched noisily across lumps and hollows, the chain made a harsh
clank, and the wood echoed the thud of heavy hoofs. Festing ran his
best, and imagined that he was running for the horses' lives and perhaps
for his. He durst not look round, and could only guess where the log was
by the noise. The blurred trees rolled back to him in a thick dark mass,
but he thought the gap he followed got narrower ahead. This was, no
doubt, the awkward spot where the trunks closed on the track, and there
was a corner. He must go on and trust to luck for getting round.
In a few moments he was almost at the corner, and although it was hard
to see, thought he distinguished a break in the dark wall of trees. One
must keep to the inside, on the right; but there was very little room,
and if he miscalculated, he or the horses would collide with a trunk.
He smashed through a bush that caught his foot, but his hold upon the
bridle saved him from a fall. It looked as if he had left the track and
was plunging into the wood. Then a black trunk became detached from the
rest, apparently straight in front. He did not mean to let go, although
he might be crushed between the horse's shoulder and the tree, and drew
as close as possible to the animal. Something brushed his coat, he felt
a button torn off, but the tree was passed. He knew where he was now,
and thrusting hard against the horse urged the animal towards the other
side of the road. The log ran into soft snow and slowed; there was more
room here and the steepest pitch was behind. A few minutes later, he
reached the top of the skids and sat down on the log, breathing fast and
feeling badly shaken.
He frowned as he thought there was no physical reason he should feel
shaken. He was used to strenuous effort, and danger could not be avoided
when one engaged in construction work. It was mental strain that was
wearing him out; the constant endeavor to finish a task in less than
the necessary time. Want of money was, however, the main cause of his
difficulties, and when he had got his cheque it would be possible to
take things easier. Comforting himself with this reflection, he got up
and led the horses down-hill.
The clang of hammers and rattle of shovels rose from the gorge, sharply
distinct at times, but melting when the throb of the river swelled and
a gust roared among the trees. A dark skeleton of steel that stood out
against pulsating flame, with blurred reflections below, marked
the central pier of the bridge; the line of track was picked out by
twinkling fires. Then the scream of a whistle pierced the sound and the
lights went out. The men were going back to the bunk-house and Festing
envied them. Their work was finished for the day and they could rest,
free from care, until the whistle roused them to begin again. Many were,
no doubt, tired, but that was man's common lot, and muscular fatigue
in moderation was no hardship. The strain came when one had to make
the dollars go round and see that every effort paid its cost. Among the
mountains, the cost was high.
Charnock joined him when he was grooming the horses in the rude stable,
because the teams must be cared for before the men thought of food.
Supper was ready when they went in, and when they had eaten they sat by
the hearth, drying their damp clothes and enjoying the warmth. They had
scarcely spoken to one another during the day; as a rule, it was only
after supper one could indulge in talk.
Presently Charnock took his pipe from his mouth. “It's luxuriously warm,
but one can't expect the Chinook to last. I imagine we'll have some use
for a stove after all.”
“We're not out of danger yet,” Festing replied. “Norton's cheque has
still to be earned, but I begin to feel hopeful. If we can hold out for
a few more days, I think we'll turn the corner. Anyhow, the plan you
made prevents any trouble from Wilkinson for a time. Do you think he has
had enough and will leave us alone?”
“I can't tell, but it doesn't matter much. We mustn't exaggerate the
fellow's importance; he's a very poor sample of the theatrical villain.
Besides, I imagine you seldom meet the latter in real life; it's an
unnecessary part.”
“You mean we're up against enough without a plotting antagonist? Well, I
must agree. Considering the weather--”
Charnock stopped him with a smile. “I don't mean the weather, though one
can't leave that out. In a new country, man must make the best fight he
can against Nature; but she's not his worst enemy. It's our passions,
our virtues sometimes, that lead us into a coil. Looks as if they didn't
want much help from outside.”
“That kind of speculation's not much in my line.”
“Just so. You're what you call practical, and your mind runs upon the
number of yards of rockwork you can put up in a day or the logs you can
cut. Very useful, but it doesn't take you far enough. In fact, if you
had thought more about other matters, you wouldn't be here now. Nor
would I.”
“I'm not sure I see your drift,” said Festing impatiently. “What's your
explanation for our being here?”
Charnock's eyes twinkled. “If you want the truth, it's because you're
something of an obstinate ass. Wilkinson had really nothing to do with
it, and the weather hasn't much. Your pride brought you and keeps you.
You took the wrong line with Helen, and then, knowing you were wrong,
couldn't force yourself to accept her help. However, I'll admit that we
are a pair of fools. I could have spent a lazy winter at the homestead
if I'd liked.”
“You came to look for me,” Festing remarked with feeling.
“I did, but stayed to please myself. Thought I'd show Sadie what I could
do; felt virtuous about it at the time, but begin to suspect that
vanity pushed me on. Sadie would, no doubt, sooner have me safe at home.
Anyhow, I think I've proved my argument--we're here, doing unthinkable
things, freezing, sweating, getting thin, because of our own stupidity.”
“In a way, that is so,” Festing agreed. “Still, I can't go back until I
have finished this job.”
“Perhaps you had better not,” said Charnock dryly. “I imagine you
wouldn't be easy to live with it you felt you had come home because you
had failed. You might make good resolutions, but the thing would spoil
your temper all the same. The pinch comes when you try to carry good
resolutions out.”
Festing got up and threw fresh wood on the fire. “If you have finished
philosophizing, we'll talk about something else.”
“I'm not going to talk about logs and wages,” Charnock replied.
“Very well. You haven't told me much about Wilkinson. He seems a clever
rascal. Do you think we have ground for being afraid of him?”
“I don't imagine he'd run much risk or make a sacrifice for the sake
of getting his revenge; that kind of thing isn't often done by normal
people. All the same, he doesn't like us, and if he found he could do us
an injury without much trouble, I dare say he'd seize the chance. On the
whole, it might be prudent to watch him. Now we'll let the matter go.”
Festing nodded, and they lounged in silence by the snapping fire.
Next morning they got to work upon the track, and on the following
afternoon, when the thaw had gone far enough into the ground, Charnock
went for the gravel gang. The men came willingly, although Wilkinson
and the foreman did not appear, and with the connivance of one Charnock
obtained several of the company's blast-lamps. They worked well, and
when they went away Festing was satisfied with what they had done. He
imagined that Kerr and Norton had put themselves to some inconvenience
in order to let him have the gang, and for the next two or three days he
redoubled his efforts. The strain was getting unbearable, but the thaw
would not last, and he must finish all the work the frost would delay
while he could get the men. When he dismissed his helpers, they parted
on friendly terms; but his look was grave that evening when he made up
his accounts.
The wages had been a heavy drain, and he could not meet his
storekeeper's bills unless he got his cheque. The defective underpinning
had, however, been replaced or strengthened, and he expected that Kerr
would test it soon. If the work did not pass the test, he would be
ruined, and would, moreover, have involved Charnock in a serious loss.
It was about the middle of the morning when he stood with Kerr and his
partner beside the mended tract. Bright sunshine touched the hillside,
leaving the gorge in shadow, and the air was clear and cold. The snow
had gone for a few hundred feet above the rails; the pines stood out
sharply from the dark background, and the hollows in the glittering
slopes beyond were marked by lines of soft-blue shade. Festing thought a
change was coming, and he had not finished the track too soon.
By and by a plume of smoke rose above the trees and something twinkled
in an opening. A rhythmic snorting and a rumble pierced the throb of the
river, and Kerr looked up the track.
“The engineer's bringing her along fast. Shall I flag him to snub her
and shut the throttle before he runs across the new stuff?”
“No,” said Festing quietly. “It won't be needful.”
“The work hasn't had much time to settle, and a locomotive using steam
hits the rails harder than when she's running loose.”
“We don't want our money until it's earned, and you'll have to haul
heavy loads up the grade when the regular traffic begins.”
“In the meantime, I'm not thinking about the rest, but about the gravel
train.”
“The track will stand,” said Festing, in a steady voice.
The train came on; the long, low-sided cars rocking and banging down the
incline. Small figures jolted up and down on the gravel, and at the far
end the big plow flashed in the sun. The front of the engine got larger,
and Festing fixed his eyes upon the rockwork he had built among the
piles. All that could be done had been done; he had not spared money
or labor, for Charnock had agreed that the job must stand. It was, no
doubt, exaggerated sentiment, for he was highly strung, but he felt that
he had staked his wife's respect and his future happiness on his work.
The ground shook, and flying fragments of ballast beat upon his
turned-down hat; there was a deafening roar as the cars jolted past,
and he saw the rails spring. Then the wind that buffeted him changed
to eddying puffs, the noise receded, and he lifted his bent head. The
rockwork stood firm, the ends of the timbers had not moved, and only
a few small heaps of gravel had fallen from the road-bed. Festing felt
that he was trembling, and Kerr put his hand on his arm.
“It's a good job; I'm quite satisfied. If you'll come along to Norton's
office, I'll tell him he can give you an order on headquarters for your
cheque.”
“I'll come instead,” said Charnock, who turned to Festing. “Go to the
shack and take a smoke. If you come out before I return, I'll stop the
gang.”
Half an hour later he found Festing sitting slackly by the fire.
“The order is in the mail-bag and will go out on the first train,” he
said. “It's lucky we got it, because we have cut things very fine. I
had a note some days since from the fellow who sends us our stores,
insisting on our settling his bill.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?” Festing asked.
Charnock laughed. “I imagined you had enough to bother you, and his
account is big. We couldn't have paid him without going broke, and
wages have first claim. There was a way out, but you had given me strict
orders not to write to Sadie.”
“I couldn't have allowed that, but you're a good sort, Bob!”
“Well,” said Charnock cheerfully, “it was, so to speak, touch and go;
but we have turned the awkward corner, and I think are going to make
good.”