GERALDINE
On reaching the Landing Andrew learned that Frobisher had returned and
he rowed across to visit him. It was evening when he disembarked at
the little pier. Geraldine came down across the lawn, and Andrew's
heart beat fast as he watched her. She was wonderfully graceful, he
thought, her white summer dress and light hat became her, there was a
tinge of color in her face, and she was obviously eager to hear his
news. She gave him a quick glance before they met, and then smiled in
cordial welcome, for the man's expression was suggestive. He had lost
his strained and anxious look, there was now an assured tranquillity
in his bearing; he had not come back disappointed, and, for his sake,
she rejoiced at this. Then as she gave him her hand and noticed the
eager light in his eyes she grew suddenly disturbed.
"You have been successful; I'm very glad," she said.
"Yes," responded Andrew, holding her hand; "things have gone well with
us, but except for the mineral recorder you are the first person I've
told the good news to. That strikes me as particularly appropriate."
"Why?"
"I don't suppose I'd ever have found the lode if you hadn't encouraged
me. I felt daunted once or twice. Then I ventured to think that you'd
be interested."
"I am interested," Geraldine assured him, gently withdrawing her hand.
"You needn't doubt that. But won't you come up to the house?"
Andrew laughed with a trace of awkwardness as he realized that he had
been standing at the top of the uncomfortably narrow steps by which
one reached the pier.
"It might be better, if you and Mr. Frobisher are not engaged."
"He's writing letters, though I think he'll have finished soon.
Wherever he is, he's generally busy; but I can answer for his being
glad to see you."
"That's good to hear. I'm heavily in your father's debt; but I'd like
to think he's not the only one in the family to feel the pleasure."
Geraldine smiled at him mockingly.
"How delightfully formal, Mr. Allinson! Besides, you seem to need a
good deal of assuring."
"A fair shot," Andrew laughed. "I'm afraid, when I'm really in
earnest, I'm apt to be stilted; but perhaps it isn't an altogether
unusual fault. The correct light touch seems hard to acquire."
"Not stilted; that's too harsh. Now and then you're rather too
serious."
Looking at her steadily, he saw amusement in her eyes, but he had not
wit enough to read all it covered and he felt slightly chilled. The
girl knew his love for her and had thought of him often and anxiously
in his absence; but now that he had come back safe and successful she
was seized by a strange timidity. She shrank from the drastic change
in their relations which his attitude threatened; he must be kept at a
distance until she had become more used to the situation.
"It's very possible. Wouldn't it be pleasanter here?" he hinted, as
they approached a seat which stood in the shadow of the firs. "We
might disturb your father by going in."
"Yes," Geraldine assented, somewhat dubiously, though the house, which
faced the west, was uncomfortably hot.
They sat down and she glanced at him unobtrusively. She was now very
cool and free from embarrassment, while the man seemed to be suffering
from constraint. Moreover, he looked disappointed, and she felt sorry
for him.
"So you found the lode and recorded your claims?" she said. "That must
have been a great relief; but what will you do next?"
Andrew grew impatient. He would have preferred to discuss something
more personal than his mining affairs.
"Oh," he exclaimed, "you must have heard enough about the lode to make
you tired of it! However, I expect I shall have to go back to England
before long."
Geraldine wondered whether the curt announcement was meant to alarm
her, and decided that it was not. The man was too modest to make sure
of her affection for him. Nevertheless it caused her some concern.
"Will it be a visit, or do you think of staying there?" she asked.
"I can't tell," said Andrew moodily. "If I can get things straightened
up, I may come back to the new mine; but I shall not know until I
arrive."
"Do you wish to come back?"
"Yes," he answered emphatically, "very much indeed."
"Then you will no doubt find an excuse for doing so. It shouldn't be
difficult to a fertile mind."
"Unfortunately, mine often seems to suffer from sterility. It has been
subjected to stimulating influences here, and I'll miss them on the
other side."
"If needful, couldn't you take Carnally with you?" Geraldine spoke
with a touch of raillery.
"Carnally's useful, as far as he goes, but I'm not sure that he'd be
much help in England; and he's not the only person I've, so to speak,
come to lean on."
Geraldine regarded him with faint amusement.
"Then perhaps it's better that all outside support should be withdrawn
and you learned to stand on your own feet. Don't you think you could
do so, if you made an effort?"
"It's possible; I've no doubt I'll have to try. But when it's been
generously given, one gets into a habit of looking for help and
applause."
"That's unfortunate. Criticism's much more bracing. I'm afraid you
haven't had enough of it."
"Haven't I?" said Andrew. "I got nothing else at home, and it's
damping to have somebody always ready to point out how much better you
might have managed things. If I do any good when I get back it will be
because of the encouragement I've had here."
"That's a very poor reason. You ought to do what you intend because
you feel it's right."
"No doubt," said Andrew with a stern smile. "Still, you see, it needs
a good deal of nerve."
Geraldine mused for a few moments. He had played up to her, as she
thought of it, but in his half-humorous manner there had been a touch
of gravity, and she knew what her commendation had been worth to him.
She was glad that he valued it, but she could not have him guess this,
and she shrank from showing too much earnestness.
"Well," she said, "the mail must be sent across to the Landing soon;
I'd better tell my father."
She got up, and a few minutes afterward Frobisher appeared and took
Andrew to his smoking-room. When they had talked for a while, Andrew
took out a few specimens.
"So far as we were able," he said, "we picked out the best of the
lode, but I believe much of the ore is of excellent quality. I brought
you these specimens to look at, and the assayer's report on those we
sent him after the first trip."
Frobisher examined them with care.
"A good business proposition; this stuff should pay for smelting. I
suppose you realize that your knowledge of the locality is valuable?"
"That's what I am coming to. If the thing's in your line, any
information I can give you is at your service."
"Ah!" said Frobisher. "Let us understand each other. Do you want to
sell?"
"Not to you. We have staked three claims, which is all we can legally
hold, and our records were only filed an hour and a half ago. By using
my map of our route and a sketch of the vein, you or anybody you may
send could reach the spot and have some days for prospecting before
anybody else could find it."
"Then you're offering me this out of friendship?"
"Not altogether. I don't forget that you saved us from starving; but
apart from that, I'd rather have somebody I know as owner of an
adjacent claim. You'll excuse my saying that I can't tolerate Mappin
there. I understand it isn't difficult to get up disputes over
boundaries and water-rights, and he'd find some means of attacking
us."
"You're wise, and I appreciate your generosity. There's every reason
to believe you have put me on to a good thing. But I'm getting too old
to make the journey, and there's no time to be lost. The trouble is to
fix on the right men to send, because they'll have to be reliable. I
know two or three boys in Colorado who would see the thing through,
but it would take a week to bring them here and only a British subject
can file a record."
He broke off and sat silent a few moments. "I have it!" he exclaimed.
"There's a fellow at the Landing who, I think, would deal honestly;
but he must get off with some packers to-morrow. If you'll excuse me,
I'll go across."
Andrew went to a writing-table and hastily filled up a sheet of paper;
then took a map from his pocket and wrote some directions on the back
of it.
"Here's an order on Watson at the mine for any provisions and tools he
can supply. It will save your men some transport and that means a
quicker journey. Now listen carefully for a minute."
"Thanks," said Frobisher, when he had finished, and left him on the
word.
Andrew laughed as he sat down to finish his cigar. The American's
promptness was characteristic, and he was glad to feel that he had
been of some service to him.
When he went out he found Geraldine on the lawn.
"What have you told my father?" she asked. "He ran past me without
speaking and nearly fell into the water as he jumped on board the
launch. I can't remember having seen him go so fast."
"Perhaps it's not surprising. I told Mr. Frobisher about the lode and
where the best locations were."
"The information ought to be valuable. The ore is rich, isn't it?"
"I think so, but of course it isn't mine to give away. All I did was
to give your father some information which should help him to find it
before anybody else. He means to send up a prospecting party at once."
Geraldine pondered this. The man was too modest to make much of the
affair, but her father's eager haste had its significance. His
judgment on business matters was unusually good, and she had no doubt
that the minerals were worth locating. It was, however, more important
that Andrew had been able to place him under an obligation, because,
in a sense, his power to confer a favor proved his value. She had
believed in him from the first, but it was pleasant to feel that
others must recognize his merits.
"Well," she said, smiling, "you have made some progress in his esteem.
He's inclined to judge people by what they have done, and you have
found a rich mine."
"Wouldn't it be fairer to judge them by what they would like to do?
It's often better than the other."
"Oh, no! Liking's easy; one often gets no farther. Accomplishment is
hard, but it counts."
Strolling to the beach, they found a seat on the pier. There was not a
breath of wind and the languid ripples splashed softly on the shingle.
Near the land the dark shadow of the pines floated on the glassy
water, but farther out it gleamed with silvery light. To the west the
black rocks and ragged trees cut sharp against a glow of vivid green.
Andrew was silent for a while. Geraldine had quietly checked him
whenever he bordered on the sentimental, and it was disconcerting,
though he felt that it would be wiser to make no effort to come to
closer quarters until she tacitly gave him encouragement.
"What a beautiful country this is!" he said at length, feeling that
the topic was safe.
"Yes," answered Geraldine, "it is beautiful and rugged, very different
from your well-cared-for England, and I suppose it gets wilder as you
travel north."
"It's the wildness that gets hold of one. I don't know when I was so
happy as I was when hauling the canoe over portages, tracking her up
rapids, and blowing rocks to bits. There must be a primitive strain in
us that shows itself in the waste."
"It may be useful now and then, but indulging it doesn't make for
progress. Even our Indians have found that out, and those who still
cling to their primitive customs live miserably in skin tepees by
catching fish. I dare say any of them could take a canoe up a rapid
better than you."
"There's no doubt of that," Andrew responded. "But I don't see your
drift."
"One gets impatient now and then with the cult of the physical, which
they're so proud of here. It's good in a way, but it doesn't lead to
much. For example, you can't continue finding valuable claims, and
there must be something for you to do besides drilling holes for
dynamite."
"Shooting pheasants is easier," Andrew smiled; "I can't say it's more
useful."
"And is there nothing else?"
Andrew grew suddenly thoughtful.
"I'll confess to a hazy idea that if I succeeded in straightening up
the Allinson affairs, I'd retire from the business while my laurels
were fresh, and turn miner. The claims will need attention, and it
would be more in my line than the management of the firm."
"You mean you would like it better?"
"I'm beginning to understand." Andrew looked at her gravely. "If
anybody else had hinted as much, I'd have felt it was exacting and I
was being driven too hard. With you it's different. Once or twice
already you have given me the impetus I needed, and you're right now.
But if I'm not required by Allinson's why shouldn't I attend to the
claims?"
Looking up he saw the launch, which had rounded a neighboring islet,
heading for the pier, and shortly afterward Frobisher joined them.
"I've got everything fixed," he said jubilantly. "Three men will start
at sunrise. But you look as if you had been discussing something
important. What's it all about?"
"Give us your opinion, Father. Mr. Allinson seems to think he can make
a few drastic reforms in his firm, and then leave such matters alone.
My idea is that he will find it harder than he expected."
Frobisher laughed with quiet amusement.
"Mr. Allinson has still a good deal to learn and I'm afraid he's much
mistaken in this matter." He turned to Andrew. "Once you take an
active interest in a big business you'll find you can't let go.
Instead of your directing the concern, it will come to own and drive
you unmercifully hard. For the last ten years I've been trying to take
life easier and escape from the pressure of affairs, but I'm still a
long way from doing so. In fact, in spite of my good resolutions, it's
only an hour since I launched out on another new venture."
"Isn't it largely a matter of temperament?" Andrew asked.
"No doubt; but not quite in the way you think--that is, it's not
always a question of making money. If a man has what we'll call the
constructive genius, he can't stand and look on when he sees anything
that needs to be done. He feels that he must take his coat off and get
to work."
Andrew had an uncomfortable feeling that Geraldine and her father were
right. One thing led to another, and he might be drawn irresistibly
into a long series of business complications, which was by no means
what he had at first contemplated. Nevertheless, if his services were
of any value, Allinson's had the first claim on them. He dismissed the
matter when Frobisher suggested that they go in to supper. Frobisher
was witty, Geraldine charmingly cordial, and it was with regret that
Andrew took his leave. Geraldine walked to the pier with him and he
noticed a gentleness in her face that set his heart to beating. He
thought the soft dusk emphasized her beauty by etherealizing it. When
they reached the steps she turned to him with a smile.
"I feel as if I'd presumed too far," she said. "After all, I'm only a
girl and younger than you are, which doesn't seem to justify my
imposing my half-formed views on you."
"I don't think that matters," returned Andrew. "I believe those views
are right."
"Then, though you had better test them thoroughly, you don't feel
offended?"
"I am grateful; but there's one point that disturbs me. I shouldn't
like to think you were reconciled to the idea of getting rid of me."
Geraldine smiled at him.
"That would be a wrong conclusion. If it's any comfort, we shall miss
you; but it isn't such a very long journey from England to the Lake
of Shadows. You will find it needful to come over and see how the
mines are working now and then."
"Whether the mines need me or not, I shall come."
She gave him her hand.
"We'll consider it a promise; but you're not going yet, and you
needn't neglect us before you start."
When she turned away Andrew got into his canoe and paddled back to the
Landing. He had, he felt, been firmly held off at arm's length, but
for all that he had noticed faint hints of tenderness in the girl's
manner which were highly encouraging, and she undoubtedly took a
strong interest in him. He must proceed cautiously and avoid alarming
her by being precipitate. That, after all, was the course he
preferred, for he was strangely diffident in love.
A day or two later he saw Turner in the bar at the hotel, where
several others were lounging; but the man gave him a careless
greeting. Andrew went into the lobby and Turner presently sauntered
in.
"Can you come down to the beach behind the sawmill dump in a few
minutes?" he asked.
Andrew nodded, and when Turner went out he put some bills into his
wallet and made for the beach. It was a quiet place, hidden between a
rocky head and a bank of sawdust, and Turner was waiting for him.
"I suppose you have come for the money I promised you?" Andrew said.
"That's not the only thing, though I'd be glad to have it."
Andrew counted out several bills.
"I didn't want to be seen talking to you at the hotel," Turner
explained. "It mightn't have been safe for me if Mappin got to hear of
it. But there's something you ought to know. The boys he sent after
you heard about the strike you made when they came down here for grub,
and are on the trail again."
"I don't see how that matters. When Mappin's rascals reach the lode
they'll find we have staked off the best, and it looks as if every man
about the settlement who can get away is going up to prospect."
"Those fellows," persisted Turner, "are old hands at the game. I don't
know their plans, but there's one thing you can depend on--they mean
to make trouble. They might shift some of your stakes and then claim
that your record wasn't correct, which would give Mappin a chance of
getting after you. It takes a smart surveyor to lay out boundaries and
frontage in such a way that they can't be questioned. I want to warn
you to be on the lookout."
Andrew considered. He knew there was sometimes litigation over mineral
claims, and he had to deal with a clever and unscrupulous man.
"I wonder why you told me this?"
"You treated me like a white man," Turner answered with a trace of
awkwardness, and then broke into a grin. "Besides, I was getting tired
of the business, anyhow; there wasn't a dollar in it for me. Now I
guess I'll light out before somebody comes along."
Andrew thanked him, and then went off in search of Carnally, feeling
glad that he had treated Turner leniently. The man was a rogue, but he
had the virtue of gratitude.