Darkness was settling down upon the mountains and the chill of the snow
was in the air when Hetty Leger and Ingleby sat beside a crackling fire.
Down in the great gorge beneath them the white mists were streaming
athwart the climbing pines, and no sound broke the deep stillness but
the restless stamping of the tethered pack-horses and the soft splash of
falling water. Hetty had a brown blanket rolled about her, and there
were hard red blotches where the mosquitoes had left their virus on the
hand she laid upon it. Leger lay not far away, and his face was swollen,
but Ingleby had escaped almost scatheless, as some men seem to do, from
the onslaughts of the buzzing legions which had pursued them through the
swampy hollows.
A blackened kettle, a spider--as a frying-pan is usually termed in that
country--and a few plates of indurated fibre lay about the fire, for the
last meal of the day was over, and it had been as frugal as any one who
had not undertaken twelve hours' toil in that vivifying air would
probably have found it unappetizing. Where resinous wood was plentiful
Ingleby could make a fire, but he could not catch a trout or shoot a
deer. Indeed, a man unaccustomed to the bush usually finds it
astonishingly difficult even to see one, and provisions were worth a
ransom in the auriferous wilderness into which they were pushing their
way. They had spent several weeks in it now, travelling, where the trail
was unusually good, eight to twelve miles a day, though there were
occasions when they made less than half the distance with infinite
difficulty, and Hetty alone knew what that journey had cost her.
The white peaks that gleamed ethereally high up in the blue, crystal
lakes, and the endless ranks of climbing pines, scarcely appealed to her
as she floundered through tangled undergrowth and ten-foot fern, or
stumbled amidst the boulders beside thundering rivers. She had lain
awake shivering, with the ill-packed fir twigs galling her weary body,
high up on great hill shoulders, and fared Spartanly on a morsel of
unsavoury salt pork and a handful of flour, while Ingleby set his lips
now and then when he saw the little forced smile in her jaded face. It
was no great consolation to reflect that other women in that country had
borne as much and more.
"Walter," she said, "you and Tom are very quiet. I expect you're tired."
Ingleby smiled, though his heart smote him as he saw the weariness in
her eyes.
"I certainly am," he said. "Still, we can't be half as worn out as you
are. You were limping all the afternoon."
"If I was it was only the boot that hurt me," said Hetty. "All those
loose stones and gravel made it worse, you see. How many miles have we
come to-day?"
"I feel that it must have been forty, but you shall have a rest
to-morrow; and you don't look as comfortable as you ought to now. Would
you mind standing up a minute?"
Hetty rose, hiding the effort it cost her, and when he had shaken up the
cedar twigs into a softer cushion sank gratefully down on them. Then she
turned her face aside that he might not see the little flush that crept
into it as he gravely tucked the coarse brown blanket round her.
"Now," he said, "I think that ought to be a good deal nicer. You're too
patient, Hetty, and I'm almost afraid we don't take enough care of you."
The girl saw his face in the firelight, and sighed as she noticed the
gentleness in it. She knew exactly how far his concern for her went.
Leger noticed it, but his shrewdness failed him now and then.
"He will make somebody a good husband by and by," he said. "She will
have a good deal to thank you for, Hetty."
Ingleby smiled with an absence of embarrassment which had its
significance for one of the party.
"There are, after all, a good many advantages attached to being a single
man, and I shall probably have to be content with them," he said.
"Of course!" said Hetty softly. "It is no use crying for the moon."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing in particular," and Hetty glanced reflectively at the fire.
"Still, I don't think you would be content with any girl likely to look
at you, and most of us would like to have a good deal more than we ever
get."
Ingleby was a trifle disconcerted, though Hetty had an unpleasant habit
of astonishing him in this fashion, but Leger laughed.
"It probably wouldn't be good for us to have it. At least, that is the
orthodox view, and, after all, one can always do without."
"Of course!" said Hetty, with a curious little inflection in her voice.
"Still, it is a little hard now and then. Isn't it, Walter?"
"Is there any special reason why you should ask me?"
Hetty appeared reflective. "Perhaps there isn't. I really don't know. Do
you hear a sound in the valley, Tom?"
They listened, and a beat of hoofs came out of the sliding mists below.
For the last week they had met nobody upon the trail, but now several
men and horses were apparently scrambling up the hillside, for they
could hear the gravel rattling away beneath them. The sound grew
louder, and at last a man called to them.
"Lead that beast of yours out of the trail," he said.
Ingleby glanced at his comrade, for the voice was English and had a
little imperious ring in it, and Leger smiled.
"There is no doubt where that man comes from, but I scarcely think
there's any great need of haste," he said.
"Do you mean to keep us waiting?" the voice rose again sharply. "It's
some of your slouching prospectors, Major. Get down and cut that beast's
tether, trooper."
Ingleby rose and moved out into the trail, and had just led the
pack-horse clear of it when a horseman rode up. He was dressed in what
appeared to be cavalry uniform and was, Ingleby surmised, that worn by
the Northwest Police, a detachment of which had lately been dispatched
to the new mining districts of the far North. It was also evident that
he held a commission, for the firelight, which forced it up out of the
surrounding gloom, showed the imperiousness in his face. It also showed
Ingleby standing very straight in front of him with his head tilted
backwards a trifle. Then there was a jingle of accoutrements as the
young officer, turning half-round in his saddle with one hand on his
hip, glanced backward down the trail.
"Look out for the low branch as you come up, sir," he said.
Ingleby stood still, nettled by the fashion in which the man ignored
him, for no freighter or prospector would have passed without at least a
friendly greeting, and while he waited it happened that Leger stirred
the fire. A brighter blaze sprang up and flashed upon the officer's
accoutrements and spurs, and then there was a pounding of hoofs, and a
horse reared suddenly in the stream of ruddy light. The officer wheeled
his beast with a warning shout, but Ingleby had seen the shadowy form in
the habit, and seized the horse's bridle.
"Hold fast!" he said. "There's a nasty drop just outside the trail."
Then for a few seconds man and startled horse apparently went round and
round scattering fir needles and rattling gravel, until the half-broken
cayuse yielded and Ingleby stood still, gasping, with his hand on the
bridle, while a girl who did not seem very much concerned looked down on
him from the saddle.
"You!" she said. "I fancied the voice was familiar. So you are going to
the mines after all?"
The firelight still flickering redly upon the towering trunks showed
Hetty Leger the curious intentness in Ingleby's gaze. Then, having done
enough to disturb her peace of mind for that night, at least, it sank a
trifle, and as two more men rode out of the shadow the officer turned to
Ingleby.
"Have you no more sense than build your fire right beside the trail?" he
asked.
Ingleby quietly turned his back on him, and patted the still trembling
horse.
"I hope you were not frightened, Miss Coulthurst," he said.
Grace smiled at him, but before she could speak the young officer pushed
his horse a few paces nearer Ingleby.
"I asked you a question," he said.
Ingleby glanced at him over his shoulder. "Yes," he said drily, "I
believe you did."
He turned his head again, and Hetty, sitting unseen in the shadow,
failed to see his face as he looked up at the girl whose bridle he held.
She could, however, see the young officer glancing down at him
apparently with astonishment as well as anger, and the police trooper
behind sitting woodenly still with a broad grin on his face, until a
burly man appeared suddenly in the sinking light. Then Grace Coulthurst
laughed.
"Will you be good enough to ride on, Reggie? I told you my opinion of
this horse," she said. "Father, I really think you ought to thank Mr.
Ingleby."
Major Coulthurst turned suddenly in his saddle.
"Ingleby?" he said. "Very much obliged to you, I'm sure. I have a fancy
I've seen you before."
"I once had the pleasure of handing you a cup of tea at a tennis match
at Holtcar."
Coulthurst laughed. "Yes," he said. "I remember it now, especially as it
was a remarkably hot day and I would a good deal sooner have had a
whisky-and-soda. Still, I've seen you somewhere since then, haven't I?"
"Yes, sir," said Ingleby drily. "On a Sunday afternoon--at Willow Dene."
Coulthurst laughed again, good-humouredly. "Of course I remember that,
too, though I hope you've grown out of your fondness for taking
liberties with other people's property. That kind of thing is still less
tolerated in this country. In the meanwhile we have a good way to go
before we camp. Once more, I'm much obliged to you."
He touched his horse with the spur, and when he and the troopers melted
into the night Ingleby turned, with one hand closed a trifle viciously,
towards the fire.
"Major Coulthurst is human, anyway, but the other fellow's insolence
made me long to pull him off his horse," he said. "Is there, after all,
any essential difference between an officer of the Northwest Police and
a mineral claim prospector?"
"One can't help admitting that in some respects there seems to be a good
deal," said Leger drily. "Still, I should scarcely fancy the Canadian
ones are likely to be so unpleasantly sensible of it. The gentleman in
question was apparently born in England."
"Where else could you expect a man of his kind to come from?" and
Ingleby kicked a smouldering brand back into the fire, "I fancied we had
left that languid superciliousness behind us. It's galling to run up
against it again here."
"My uncle's spirit in these stones!" said Leger. "Still, aren't you
getting a little too old now to run a tilt against the defects of the
national character? One feels more sure of doing it effectively when
he's younger."
Ingleby laughed, for his ill humour seldom lasted long. "I suppose
nobody can help being an ass now and then, and, after all, the best
protest is the sure and silent kick when people who treat you like one
unnecessarily add to your burden. Anyway, that trooper's grin was
soothing. It suggested that there was a good deal of human nature under
his uniform."
"I was looking at the officer man, and scarcely noticed him. It occurred
to me that the attitude you complain of probably runs in the family."
"I can't say I understand you."
"Well," said Leger reflectively, "I can't help a fancy that we once met
somebody very like him on another occasion when we both lost our
temper."
"At Willow Dene?"
"Exactly!" said Leger. "You can think it over. I'll wash the plates at
the creek and get some water."
He turned away, leaving Ingleby considerably astonished and
half-persuaded that he was right. The latter was still looking into the
darkness when Hetty spoke to him.
"It's not worth worrying about. Come and sit down," she said. "Who was
that girl, Walter?"
"Miss Coulthurst," said Ingleby.
Hetty moved a little so that the firelight no longer fell upon her, and
Ingleby noticed that she was silent a somewhat unusual time. Then she
asked, "The girl you used to play tennis with at Holtcar?"
"Yes."
Hetty wished that she could see his face. "You have met her before, in
Canada?"
"Once only. On the Vancouver wharf, the day I let them put the tea into
the wrong car. She was coming from the steamer."
Hetty's face grew a trifle hard for a moment as she made a tolerably
accurate guess at the cause of his neglect on the afternoon in question.
Then with a sudden change of mood she laid her hand gently on his arm.
"Don't you think it would have been better for everybody if she had
stayed in England, Walter?"
"I expect it would have been for Tom and you. If I had remembered what
my business on the wharf was I should never have brought all this upon
you."
Hetty's hand closed almost sharply on his arm. "No," she said, "I don't
mean that. You see, I was really glad to get away from the boarding
house."
"You assured me you liked it once," said Ingleby.
"Well, perhaps I did, but we needn't go into that. I was thinking of you
just now."
Ingleby would not pretend to misunderstand her. He felt it would
probably be useless, for Hetty, he knew, could be persistent.
"Men get rich in this country now and then," he said. "It would, at
least, be something to work and hope for."
He could not see Hetty's face, but he noticed that there was a faint
suggestion of strain in her voice.
"Do you think she would ever be happy with you even if you found a gold
mine?" she said.
"What do you mean, Hetty?" and Ingleby turned towards her suddenly with
a flush in his face.
"I only want to save you trouble. Don't you think when a girl of that
kind found out how much there was that she had been accustomed to think
necessary and that you knew nothing about, she might remember the
difference between herself and you. After all, it's not always the most
important points that count with a girl, you know."
She stopped somewhat abruptly, but Ingleby made a little gesture. "I
would rather you would go on and say all you mean to."
"Well," said Hetty reflectively, "if I had been rich I think I should
like the man I married to do everything--even play cards and billiards
and shoot pheasants--as well as my friends did. It wouldn't be nice to
feel that I had to make excuses for him, and I'm not sure I wouldn't be
vexed if he didn't seem to know all about the things folks of that kind
get for dinner."
Ingleby's laugh was a protest, but it was only half-incredulous, for he
had now and then realized with bitterness the deference paid to
conventional niceties in England.
"You can't believe that would trouble any sensible woman?" he said.
"Well," answered Hetty, "perhaps it mightn't, for a little while, or if
there was only one thing, you see--but if you put everything together
and kept on doing what jarred on her?"
"One could get somebody to teach him."