A DELICATE POINT
The afternoon was drawing to a close when Andrew, Olcott, and a friend
of the latter's, carrying guns and spread out in line, entered a
stretch of rough, boggy pasture near the river. Clumps of reeds and
rushes grew along the open drains, water gleamed among the grass, and
the bare trees on the high bank across the stream stood out sharp and
black against a glow of saffron light. The men were wet to the knees,
and a white setter, splashed with mire, trotted in front of them.
Murray, Olcott's friend, who was on Andrew's right, sprang across a
broad drain and laughed when he alighted.
"Over my boots, but my feet can't get any wetter," he remarked. "I
don't know that this is a judicious amusement after being invalided
home from the tropics; but it looks a likely place for a mallard."
Allinson had met Murray for the first time that morning, and noticed
that the man, a government official in a West African colony, looked
at him rather intently when they were introduced. They had, however,
spent a pleasant day, and Andrew was going to Olcott's to dinner.
"I'm afraid the plover will put up any ducks there are about," he
said. "They're a nuisance and you're not allowed to shoot them here.
It will be bad to keep our line over this rough ground."
Four or five lapwings, screaming shrilly, wheeled in wide circles
overhead, showing sharply black and white as the light struck them,
and fading into indistinct gray patches as they turned in erratic
flight. The men advanced cautiously, searching the ground with eager
eyes, and keeping their positions as closely as possible. This was
needful for the safety of the party in case a bird got up and crossed
their line of march, when the right to first shot would be determined
by the code of shooting etiquette.
Andrew was plodding through a belt of rush with a plover circling
close above his head when the setter, after creeping slowly forward
for a few paces, suddenly stopped. Then a small gray object sprang up
from a drain and Andrew threw his gun to his shoulder. He dropped it
the next moment, with a low call to Murray:
"Your bird!"
The snipe had swung a little to the right in its swift flight,
swerving in sharp corkscrew twists, and Murray's gun twice flashed.
The bird, however, held on and faded against the dusky background of
the river bank. Murray stopped and turned to Andrew with a laugh.
"I'm afraid I'm hardly up to snipe," he said. "It's a pity you were
generous enough to give me the shot."
"It was yours by right."
"That," Murray disputed, "is an open point. If I had been in your
place and could have hit the bird, I wouldn't have let it go. However,
if the firing hasn't made them wild, you may get another chance."
The sun had sunk behind the tall bank and the pale yellow light that
lingered was confusing when the setter flushed a second snipe, which
went away at long range in front of Andrew. During a part of each
quick gyration he could not see it, but when it was outlined for a
second, black against the light, his gun flashed and the bird fell
among the reeds. When the setter had found it Murray looked surprised.
"Considering the bad light and the distance, it was a remarkably clean
shot," he said. "I expected to see that you had hit it with only a
stray pellet or two."
"I used the left barrel," Andrew explained, smiling. "It's a
half-choke; an old gun. That accounts for the charge hanging
together."
"It doesn't account for your killing your bird at a long range with
shot which wouldn't spread. But it's getting dark and we've had
enough."
They turned back to the nearest road, and an hour or two after
reaching home Andrew walked across to Olcott's. Ethel Hillyard was
there, and when they went into dinner Murray, sitting next to her,
glanced at Andrew near the other end of the table.
"I was out with Mr. Allinson to-day," he said. "As he's a neighbor of
yours, I've no doubt you know him pretty well. He struck me as a
particularly straight man."
"He is so," declared Ethel warmly. "I don't know a straighter. Still,
I don't see how you came to that conclusion by watching his shooting."
"It doesn't seem very obvious," Murray responded with a smile.
"However, so far as my experience goes, a man who's scrupulous in one
thing is very apt to prove the same in another. When we were out this
afternoon, a snipe got up in front of him and he let me have the
shot."
"But how does that prove his general honesty?"
"I'm not sure I was entitled to the shot, though as the bird headed
slightly toward me there was some doubt about the matter. Allinson
gave me the full benefit, though I think he must have known that I
would miss."
"Is it a great sacrifice to give up a shot?"
"A snipe," said Murray, "is very hard to hit, though Allinson showed
us afterward that he is capable of bringing one down. Now when you
know you can do a difficult thing neatly, it's not easy to refrain."
"Perhaps that's true," Ethel agreed. "No doubt the temptation's
stronger when you have an appreciative audience."
"Mine," said Murray, "was too polite to laugh."
Mrs. Olcott asked him a question and they changed the subject, but
after dinner Murray found an opportunity for a word with Andrew, whom
Olcott had left alone in his smoking-room.
"Perhaps it's hardly correct to talk to you on business here, and I
won't press you, but there's some information you may be able to give
me," he said.
Andrew looked at the man more carefully than he had hitherto done.
Murray's face was thin and rather haggard, but it bore the stamp of
authority. His manner was grave but pleasant.
"I am at your service," he replied.
"Then I want to ask about the Rain Bluff mine. A little time ago a
stock-jobbing friend told me it ought to turn out a good thing. He
said that whatever Allinson's took up could be relied on, and it was
clear that he had a high opinion of your house. On the strength of it,
I put some money into the venture." He paused with a smile. "Now, you
are wondering why a man with means enough to speculate should go to
West Africa?"
"Something like that was in my mind."
"Well, I learned that I'd the knack of getting on with primitive
peoples; in fact, it's my only talent, and I felt that I had to make
use of it. Then it's a mysterious country, that gets hold of one, and
perhaps is hardly so bad as it's painted. As a rule, I don't have
fever more than half a dozen times a year. What's more to the purpose,
part of the money was lately left to me. But I'm getting away from the
point."
Andrew was favorably impressed by the man. They had something in
common, for both were imbued with a sense of responsibility. Murray
had lightly indicated this, and Andrew knew that West Africa is far
from a desirable place to live.
"You have a reason for feeling anxious about those shares?"
"Yes. In my district, the risk of getting permanently disabled by the
climate or shot by an ambushed nigger has to be considered. Stipend
and pension are small, and I felt that I needed something to fall back
on. That was why I bought the Rain Bluff stock. Now my friend tells me
that the shares are being quietly sold in small lots, which he seems
to think ominous. If you can tell me anything about the matter, I'll
be grateful."
Andrew was silent for a minute or two, feeling troubled. He did not
pity the regular stock-jobbers and speculators who had bought Rain
Bluff stock, for they were accustomed to playing a risky game. It was,
however, different with such investors as Murray--men of small means,
who had carefully saved something to provide for old age, and women
left with just enough to keep them from want. These, he thought,
formed a numerous class and demanded his sympathy. They had, no doubt,
avoiding ventures which offered a larger return, been influenced by a
desire for security, which would seem to be promised by Allinson's
connection with the mine.
"Well," he said at last, "I believe it is true that shares have been
parted with by a man who has a say in the management of the company."
"That sounds discouraging. If I sell out, I'll lose three or four
shillings on every share."
"Yes; and if others follow your example, it will weaken the Company's
position. However, I think you can venture to keep your stock."
"You can't expect me to take the risk of holding, in order to support
a concern in which I'm badly disappointed. I must ask you frankly what
is wrong at the mine?"
"In strict confidence, I may say that the ore we are working does not
promise well."
Murray looked at him in astonishment.
"You are remarkably candid; but you give me a curious reason for
holding on to my shares."
"Here's a better one," said Andrew. "We have another mine in view; but
whether it turns out rich or not, no holder of Rain Bluff stock shall
lose a penny by his confidence in Allinson's."
"Though I don't know much about stock-jobbing, that strikes me as an
extraordinary promise."
"I dare say it is," Andrew replied. "I offer you no guarantee; you
must use your judgment."
Murray looked up sharply.
"I believe your word is good enough. You have taken a load off my
mind, Mr. Allinson. I'll hold those shares. May I add that if my proxy
is likely to be of any value at your meetings, you may count on it?"
"Thanks! And now, did I tell you that Olcott promised to bring you
out again to-morrow? There's a cover I want to beat and the pheasants
ought to be plentiful."
They went down together and Murray joined Ethel Hillyard in the
drawing-room.
"I've had a talk with Mr. Allinson which confirms your opinion of
him," he said. "But I must say that he doesn't fit in with my idea of
a Company director."
Ethel laughed.
"Andrew's new to the business, and undertook it with reluctance from a
sense of duty. For all that, though his ignorance of commercial
matters must be a handicap, I expect him to make a success of it."
"One would imagine that a desire to make money is the more usual
object, but I think you're right. In fact, you have touched upon a pet
idea of mine."
The girl turned and studied him. There was a trace of gravity in his
manner, and she understood that he had done with credit difficult and
dangerous work.
"What is the idea?" she asked.
"To put it roughly, something like this--more depends on character
than specialized training; determination and strong sincerity often
carry one farther than a knowledge of the rules of the game. One sees
people who rely on the latter come to grief."
"Even in Company floating?"
"That," said Murray, smiling, "is a subject about which I'm ignorant.
I was speaking of the general principle."
"Do you mean that right must prevail?"
"I'm sanguine enough to believe it often does in the end."
"One would like to think so. But as we seem to be getting serious,
isn't the question whether it prevails or not another matter from an
altruistic point of view?"
Murray pondered this and then looked up with a twinkle.
"So long as I'm not priggish, I don't mind being serious. You see, I'm
fresh from the shadowy bush, where life is solemn enough, and when I
came home not long ago after a three years' absence I felt strangely
out of place. You're at a disadvantage when you can't talk about the
latest musical comedy or popular dancer, and it's as bad not to know
the favorite for an approaching steeplechase. However, to stick to our
subject, I see what you mean. One must do one's work and not worry
about the result?"
Olcott was passing and he stopped beside them.
"Murray seems to be moralizing," he laughed. "I must warn you that he
spends his evenings in Africa sitting behind a mosquito-netting
studying the early Victorian philosophers. It's some excuse for him
that when the niggers are quiet he has nothing else to do and nobody
to talk to except a colored official."
"Don't you get any newspapers?" Ethel asked.
"They're often too wet and pulpy to read, and now and then the
sporting natives bag the mail-carrier. I've known them try to stalk
the white officer responsible for too drastic reforms."
Ethel regarded Murray with heightened interest. There was something
that both amused and touched her in the thought of the lonely man,
shut in by the black, steamy forest, spending his evenings reading
philosophy.
"I wonder," she said, "whether you find any practical application of
the great thinkers' theories?"
"One old favorite of mine strikes me as rather grim and singularly
hard to please; but so far as I can judge, he hits the mark now and
then. It's a pet theme of his that only that which stands on justice,
and is better than what it displaces, can endure. You see that worked
out in a primitive country like West Africa."
"But isn't the progress of civilization assisted by machine-guns and
followed by gin?"
"A fair shot!" laughed Olcott. "Our rule's often faulty, but it's a
good deal better than the natives had before. Murray knows a creek
that mutilated corpses used to drift down after each big palaver and
celebration of Ju-Ju rites."
"I suppose he had some trouble in putting a stop to it?"
Olcott broke into a grim smile.
"One would imagine so, from what I heard of the matter. An army of
savages with flintlocks took the bush on the other side; there were
about two dozen colored Mohammedan soldiers, a white lieutenant,
carried in a hammock because he was too ill to walk, and a civil
officer who wasn't authorized to fight, to carry out the reforms.
Though it didn't look encouraging at the start, they were effected."
"Ah," said Ethel, "one could be proud of things like that! After all,
Mr. Murray's philosopher may be right. It's cheering to find a man
ready to put his belief in justice to the test."
"There's one," said Olcott, indicating Andrew. "I shouldn't wonder if
it costs him something."
The group broke up and some time later Andrew walked home with Ethel.
The distance was not great, the road was dry, and a half moon threw
down a silvery light. Thin mist filled the hollows, the murmur of the
river rose from a deep valley, and the air was soft.
"It's very open weather," Ethel remarked. "I suppose it's different in
Canada?"
"In the part I'm best acquainted with the thermometer is now
registering forty degrees below zero, and it would need a charge of
dynamite to break the ice on the lakes."
"Prospecting must be stern work," said Ethel speculatively. "It's
curious that you haven't thought it worth while to give me an account
of your adventures. Won't you do so?"
"Well, you mustn't blame me if you find them tedious. As a matter of
fact, I haven't said much about them to anybody yet."
He began with a few rather involved explanations, but his style became
clearer as he followed up the main thread of the tale, and Ethel
listened with close interest.
"So it was the Frobishers who saved you by sending off a rescue
party!" she exclaimed when he had finished. "But how did they know you
were in danger?"
"That's more than I can tell. Of course, we were behind our time, but
that doesn't account for all. I've a suspicion that Miss Frobisher had
some means of finding out the most serious risk we ran."
Ethel thought this indicated that Geraldine took a marked interest in
the man. She wondered if it had occurred to him.
"And you believe the fellow really meant to starve you?" she said.
"He didn't intend us to find the food. It comes to the same thing."
"But his conduct seems so inhuman! Surely, he would not have let you
die of hunger with no better reason than to prevent you from
interfering with his contract?"
Andrew hesitated. He could not tell her that Mappin might have been
actuated by jealousy; modesty prevented his doing so.
"The fellow is greedy and unscrupulous enough for anything," he
replied evasively.
"But you hinted that he was clever," Ethel persisted. "Only a fool
would commit a serious crime for a small advantage."
"It's certainly puzzling," Andrew admitted.
Then he was surprised and disconcerted when Ethel turned on him a
searching glance.
"Andrew," she said, "the man must have been given a hint by some one
more powerful. His is not the strongest interest you are opposed to."
The color crept into Andrew's face. He suspected Leonard, but it was
unthinkable that he should declare his brother-in-law's infamy. This
was a matter that lay between the culprit and himself.
"It's an unpleasant topic and the fellow's a rascal," he answered.
"It's hard to say what might influence such men. They're not quite
normal; you can't account for them."
"But you're going back to look for the lode, aren't you?" Ethel laid
her hand on his arm. "Be careful; you have had a warning. I suppose
you must do what you have fixed your mind on and, knowing you are
right, I dare not dissuade you."
"I'll run no risks that can be avoided and, in particular, trust no
outsider to look after the supplies for our next trip," Andrew said
grimly. "One experience like the last is enough."
For a few minutes they walked on in silence. Ethel knew her
companion's character and admired it; and now she had met Murray, who
in some respects resembled him, as did Olcott. All were men of action,
and there was the same indefinite but recognizable stamp on them. They
were direct, simple in a sense which did not imply foolishness, free
from petty assumption and incapable of suave diplomacy; but one could
rely on them in time of stress. Leonard was a good example of the
opposite type; but she found the other more pleasant to think about.
When she reached the gate she gave Andrew her hand.
"You know you have my good wishes," she said.