When the meal was over Foster began to feel impatient. Pete went away,
but Mrs. Stephen and Lucy remained, and Foster, having much to ask and
tell his comrade, was embarrassed by their presence. By and by he saw
that Lawrence was watching him with quiet amusement.
"It's like old times to have you with us," Lawrence remarked. "In
fact, it only needed your turning up to complete my satisfaction; but
you're a disturbing fellow. Don't you think this lucky reunion is
rather too good to spoil?"
Foster knew what he meant and was tempted to agree, though he felt this
was weak. It was pleasant to lounge, enjoying careless talk, and the
society of the two ladies had its charm. They added a touch of
domesticity and gave the place a homelike look, while the girl made an
attractive picture as she handed Lawrence his matches and cigarettes.
Foster thought it was worth being ill to be waited on like that. Then
his chair was comfortable and he could see the sunset fading on the
snow.
The sky was a wonderful pale-green and the high peaks glowed against
it, softly red. There was a belt where the snow glittered, but lower
down it faded to gray and blue. The pines were nearly black, but rose
out of the shadow in sharp-cut spires, and far down in the dusky gorge,
from which the roar of the flood and crash of ice ascended, there were
gleams of livid foam. Still there was much he wanted to learn, and it
was something of a relief when Mrs. Stephen picked up her sewing and
gave her daughter a meaning glance. To Foster's surprise, Lawrence
interposed.
"If you don't mind, I'd sooner you didn't go." Then he turned to
Foster with a smile. "It's obvious that you want to unbosom yourself,
Jake, but you can begin. You needn't be afraid of mentioning Daly.
Lucy knows."
Foster remarked the girl's blush. Since she knew so much, it was plain
that Lawrence had asked her to marry him and she had agreed. He
imagined that Lawrence wanted Mrs. Stephen to hear somebody else's
account of the matter, and although it would have been easier to talk
to Lawrence alone, he asked:
"Did you know the fellow was in Banff a day or two since?"
Lucy Stephen made an abrupt movement, and her mother looked interested.
She was a quiet lady and more reserved than the girl, but Foster
thought her intelligent and firm.
"I did not," said Lawrence. "As a matter of fact, I'm no longer afraid
of the fellow and mean to fight. He can't do me much harm--now."
The girl's shy glance at his comrade moved Foster. She knew what her
lover meant and valued his trust; but he could sympathize with Mrs.
Stephen, who looked disturbed. The latter was practical and no doubt
saw that Daly might give them trouble.
"You had better begin at the beginning, and then we'll understand why
you came back and how you got on Daly's trail," Lawrence resumed with a
hint of resignation.
"Very well; but first, why didn't you write?"
"I wrote twice. Once to my mother and once to you."
"We got no letters. Did you post them?"
"Ah!" said Lawrence, "that was unfortunate. I gave the first letter to
a steward to send ashore from a San Francisco boat. Walters put the
other in the mail."
"Who is Walters?"
"We'll come to him later. Get on with your story."
Foster told it as clearly as he could, though this took some time, and
when he had finished was annoyed by his comrade's smile. Lawrence
seldom took things seriously enough.
"Jake is a born meddler," he remarked to the others. "He can't resist
the temptation to put crooked matters right."
"It is a useful habit," said Mrs. Stephen quietly.
"Just so," Lawrence agreed. "Still it's a habit that ought to be
carefully controlled and not, so to speak, be indulged out of
sentimental impulses."
Foster felt embarrassed, although he thought he had said no more about
Carmen and Alice than was needed to make his narrative clear.
"First of all," Lawrence resumed, "he takes up my defense, then he must
help Carmen, and I think deserved the trouble in which she involved
him. Next he seems to have been moved by my sister's anxiety." He
paused and gave Foster a curious quiet smile. "I wondered what Alice
would think of you and hope she was grateful."
Foster saw Lucy's interest, and wondered whether he had told more than
he meant, but his comrade's amusement seemed uncalled for, and he
rejoined: "I imagined I'd made it plain that your sister wasn't the
only relative your carelessness alarmed."
"You did. The situation wasn't without its humor, Jake. After you had
embarked on a number of strange adventures on my behalf, it must have
been galling to be suspected of having made away with me. However, I
understand that Alice didn't take this view?"
"She did not," said Foster shortly, and Lawrence rang a bell.
"Get me a C.P. telegram form," he ordered the waiter.
The form was brought, and Lawrence filled it up and gave it to the man.
Then he fixed his eyes on Foster and remarked carelessly: "I've sent it
in your name, Jake, and not to my father. I thought somebody had
better break the comforting news to him, and briefly stated that you
had found me."
"Oughtn't you to have added some particulars?" Mrs. Stephen asked.
"On the whole, I don't think so. For one thing, Jake's taciturn
modesty rather becomes him, and the charges for an English telegram are
high."
Foster said nothing, but he knew the message had been sent to Alice and
Lawrence was satisfied with him as his sister's lover. This was
something, but Lawrence's approval might not count for much.
"That's done with," the latter resumed. "Since you didn't find Daly at
Banff, we have to decide if Carmen meant to deceive you and he never
intended going there. I rather think we had better leave it to Mrs.
Stephen and Lucy."
"I imagine she told the truth," Lucy replied. "If she had loved the
man, she might, after all, have tried to protect him; but a selfish,
ambitious girl who found she had been cheated, would be capable of
ruining him in a fit of jealous rage."
"But I didn't state that she was ambitious and selfish," objected
Foster.
Lawrence's eyes twinkled. "You don't realize all your talents, Jake.
For one thing, you have a gift for narrative, and the portrait you drew
of Carmen with a stroke or two was lifelike. Then, when you met and
bluffed her into giving Daly away, you couldn't have taken a more
effective line if you had been an ambassador. What do you think, Mrs.
Stephen?"
"Mr. Foster seems to have used all his advantages and the girl got a
shock that found out her weak points. I believe she meant to ruin her
worthless lover."
"So do I," Lawrence agreed. "I expect you have made Jake sorry he was
firm, but I'd warned him about Carmen and she doesn't deserve much
pity. But why did Daly leave England and how did he find out that I'd
been at Banff?"
"If you'll tell me what you have done since you left the Crossing, it
might help to solve the puzzle," Foster replied.
Lawrence made a gesture of resignation. "I suppose it must be told. I
went to California and didn't get as well as I expected. There was a
good deal of sea-fog on the coast and after a time I went farther
south. That's one reason I didn't write; I felt languid and dejected
and didn't want to alarm my folks. Well, I tried Mexico and got rather
worse; besides I found lounging tiresome work. In consequence, I
joined a steamer going north and her doctor told me that dry cold
mountain air was the best cure for troubles like mine. I met Walters
on the voyage up the coast."
"Perhaps you had better describe him," Lucy suggested.
"Walters looks about my age and is thin and dark; an amusing fellow and
remarkably well informed. In fact, I couldn't guess his nationality;
he seemed to have been everywhere. He had good manners, but somehow
one missed----"
"Something that good manners must be founded on," Lucy interposed.
Foster saw that they had argued about the man before, because Lawrence
smiled indulgently.
"Then how did he make your acquaintance?" he asked the girl.
"That was not altogether Lawrence's fault. Walters was cleverer than
he thought."
"And he mailed one of the letters that did not arrive?"
"The fellow," Lawrence continued, "was a pleasant companion and when I
mentioned why I was traveling agreed that the mountains were best for
me. Told me about some friends of his whom the air had cured."
"In short, he recommended your trying Banff," Lucy remarked.
"He did me a good turn there. We separated at Seattle, but I found him
at Victoria, where I stopped some weeks. It was there I met Lucy, who
was going to Banff. I must explain that she's a mountaineer."
The girl blushed. "I climbed in the Olympians twice with college
friends. They talked about exploring some of the northern glaciers
next summer, and as we wanted a change, I persuaded mother to spend a
month or two at a mountain resort where I could get some practice on
the ice." She paused and added in a grave voice: "I really don't climb
well, Mr. Foster, and doubt if I shall venture on the rocks again."
"Well," resumed Lawrence, "we decided to go to Banff together. I got
better rapidly and we made a few easy excursions into the mountains,
but the weather was bad and we didn't like our hotel. Then Walters
turned up again and told us about this place. In fact, he was rather
enthusiastic about it and said we'd find good rock climbs at the door,
so we agreed to move."
"And took Walters?"
"He was an amusing fellow. He'd a way of finding something interesting
for one to do and was always ready when he was wanted; a very useful
man to have about."
Foster imagined his comrade might have found the fellow about when he
was not wanted, but Mrs. Stephen's smile was illuminating. It seemed
to hint that Lawrence had found Walters useful because he took her off
his hands. Foster thought it curious that the man was satisfied with
his part, since Lucy was a very attractive girl. Walters had obviously
not attached himself to the party on her account.
"As I got stronger we tried some harder climbs," Lawrence went on.
"Lucy is clever and steady on the ice; I'd had some practice on
Scawfell in winter when I was at home, and though Walters didn't know
much about the work his nerve is good. At length, we resolved to try
the sharp peak yonder."
It was nearly dark, but Foster, looking up the valley, saw a white
summit gleam against the sky. The shoulders of the mountain had faded
to a pale gray, and the darker streak that filled a deep hollow marked
a glacier.
"We started early and at first found the glacier rough but safe.
Walters had insisted on two guides; prospectors, used to the rocks, who
now and then took a tourist party out. The glacier brought us up some
height, but after a time the surface began to be broken by big
crevasses. We spent two hours picking our way across and at noon saw
we must find another route. The slope on the right would take us off
our line; on the left there were high, icy rocks that would puzzle a
member of the Alpine club."
"We sat down and examined the mountain with the glasses. Above the
crags, a snowfield ran up to the foot of the last sharp ridge, but we
did not see how we could reach it. Ragged clouds drove across the
ridge and blowing snow streamed about the peak like mist. Lucy,
however, was keen on going on, and by and by one of the guides picked
out a _coulee_ that might take us up. _Coulee's_ good French-Canadian,
but Alpinists call it a _couloir_. It looked like a thin, white,
perpendicular streak on the face of the dark rock. But perhaps I'm
boring you with these particulars."
Lucy gave Foster a meaning glance and he said, "No; I want to
understand the thing."
"It was awkward to reach the _coulee_, because the glacier was badly
crevassed, but we got there. The gully was nearly precipitous; a
narrow trough that serves as a rubbish shoot for the mountain when the
thaw splits the rocks. I expect it's ground smooth in summer, but it
was filled with hard, slippery snow. We stopped again and studied it,
and I felt doubtful I about taking Lucy up, but she didn't want to go
back. Walters took my view and said we'd all go back, but he looked
disappointed and Lucy wouldn't agree."
"I lost my temper," Lucy admitted. "I never liked Walters and when he
supported Lawrence I got obstinate. Besides, I thought he really
wanted to get rid of me."
"Anyhow, we decided that one guide should take Lucy back down the
glacier."
"Walters decided," Lucy objected. "It's important, Mr. Foster, that he
chose the guide. Be careful how you tell the rest, Lawrence."
"He said she must take the best man, and one laughed and said that if
we meant to get up we'd better stick to him. Walters, however, sent
this fellow off with Lucy, and then we fastened on the rope and began
to climb. We got up perhaps a hundred feet by kicking steps in the
snow, but that's a tiring job for the leader, and when he found a crack
in the wall, where we could stop, the guide had had enough."
"Why was it necessary to find a crack?" Foster asked.
"One couldn't stand on the snow, and if we had tried to sit on it, we'd
have shot down to the bottom; for the most part, the walls were ground
smooth. When you go up a place like that, the leader kicks a little
hole as high as he can in front, and then stands in it while he makes
another. The rest put their feet in the holes as they follow. Well,
when we set off again I went first and had to use my ax because the
snow had hardened into ice, I soon found out I hadn't quite got better,
and was forced to stop when we were nearly half-way up. We lay down,
with our toes in the nicks, to rest, and I slid my flask down to
Walters when I'd had a drink. It was a big flask, and I'd got it
filled with brandy. I thought the guide took a remarkably long drink,
but he looked steady when he crawled up to take my place.
"After that it was very slow work and we were glad when we found a knob
of rock sticking out of the ice. It had been ground into the shape of
a bridge pier by the rubbish shooting past. We stopped a bit and
argued if we should give it up, but the guide declared he knew a better
way down into the next valley and Walters seemed keen, so we ate
something, took another drink, and set off again. The slope was
dangerously steep and I thought the guide was using his ax wildly, but
we came to a deep crack in the wall and when Walters suggested that it
might help us out of the gully I threw off the rope. It would have
been of no use if I had fallen, and I meant to come down unless I saw a
fairly safe route to the snowfield. In fact, I think I meant to give
up the climb and only went to find an excuse for this.
"The crack was not quite vertical and gave a good hold, but when I'd
got up eighteen or twenty feet I came to an awkward slab. It bulged
out, but I found a hold for my hands and scrambled over the edge. I
managed this because the alternative was falling off and shooting to
the bottom of the _coulee,_ but perhaps because I was weaker than I
thought, I wrenched my shoulder during the lift. Anyhow, I couldn't
use my arm. It appeared afterwards that a ligament was strained, and
the joint pinches yet.
"For a minute or two I thought hard. There was no way up, and I hadn't
nerve enough to lower myself over the ledge by one arm. When I moved
the other cautiously it hurt worse than at first. I called to the
others and told them how I was fixed, but got a shock when the guide
looked up.
"'Can't get down?' he said. 'Then why in thunder don't you jump?'
"'The fool's drunk,' Walters explained and added that he'd try to bring
me the rope.
"I told him to throw me the end, as there was a knob I could double it
round and then slide down both parts. The trouble was that Walters had
nothing much to stand on when he tried to throw the coil. He lost his
balance, slid down the gully, and jerked the guide out of his step. I
saw Walters' ax shoot down in front, but the guide stuck to his, and
the blade dragging over the rough surface checked them a bit. For all
that, it looked as if they'd go straight to the bottom and they would
hardly have got there alive, but the small rock wasn't far below. I
don't think I breathed while I waited to see if it would bring them up.
"Walters struck the rock first and was very quick with the rope; in
fact, I was astonished at his coolness, because he must have got a
heavy blow. He stopped the other fellow and they lay on the rock for a
few minutes. Then Walters shouted: 'He's not to be trusted, and I
can't climb back alone.'
"Well, it was some moments before I could face the situation, but I
told him to get down as fast as he could and send a rescue party with
the other guide. He objected, but admitted that he saw no other plan,
and I felt desperately lonely as I watched them crawl down the
_couloir_. I don't know that I felt much worse afterwards, although it
began to snow and my hands and feet seemed to turn to ice; two of my
left fingers aren't of much use yet. The ledge was wide enough to sit
on, but slanted, and one had to be careful to keep from slipping off.
The snow stopped, but when dark came I'd given up hope of the rescue
party's arriving in time. As a matter of fact, they were nearly too
late, and I was in bed a month after they got me down; but Lucy can
tell you the rest. You see, she saved my life."
A wave of color flushed Lucy's face. "When I reached the hotel I felt
uneasy, and when it got dark and Lawrence didn't come I was alarmed. I
had kept the guide who brought me home, and sent him to find some of
his friends at a ranch not far off. They went back to look for
Lawrence."
"You went back," said Lawrence reprovingly.
"As far as the first big crevasse; they wouldn't let me cross. But
before this we met Walters and the other guide, who was drunk. Walters
wanted to come with us, but I wouldn't allow him."
"You thought he was too tired?" Foster suggested.
"No," said Lucy quietly, "it wasn't altogether that."
Foster saw she would say no more about it, which seemed significant,
and he let her go on.
"There is not much more to tell," she said with a shiver. "I was very
anxious while I waited behind a hummock of ice, but at last I heard the
men coming; they were carrying Lawrence, who couldn't walk. We got him
down to the hotel--and I think that's all."
"But what became of Walters?" Foster asked.
"He stayed for a few days, and we were glad when he had to leave. He
was in the way when Lawrence was ill."
"Thank you," said Foster gravely and was silent for a time.
He understood why his comrade called Miss Stephen Lucy, although he had
not known her very long. She had, no doubt, saved his life by hurrying
off the rescue party and had afterwards taken care of him when he was
ill. He thought Lawrence lucky, but was not justified in
congratulating him yet, and had something else to think about. Lucy
suspected Walters, though Lawrence did not, and Foster imagined that
she had some ground for doing so. She had an object for making
Lawrence tell his story with full particulars, because it must have
been painful to recall the matter.
"We'll say no more about it now, Miss Stephen," he remarked. "Lawrence
and I are old friends, and I'm heavily in your debt."
Lucy looked up with a smile and blush, and Foster understood what she
meant when she answered: "I hope you will always be his friend."