"It is," said Ingleby. "Still, I don't see what that has to do with it."
"There's no bread like it in the Green River country," persisted Hetty.
"They taught me to bake at the boarding-house. I made it."
Ingleby looked at her in astonishment. "Go on," he said. "I'll wait a
little."
"Well," and though Hetty spoke quietly her voice was not quite her usual
one, "what are you and Tom longing for just now more than anything?"
"The means to go on working on our claim."
"Then what would you say if I gave you them?"
Ingleby gasped. For days he had been haunted by the fear that their
provisions would run out before they found the gold he believed in, for
a little very simple figuring had shown that there was only a faint hope
of their making more than the value of their day's labour once they
relinquished the hitherto unprofitable claim. There was also, it was
evident, no great probability that a mere wielder of pick and shovel
would ever gain the regard of the Gold Commissioner's daughter, though
Miss Coulthurst, whom he met occasionally, had of late been unusually
gracious to him. He had, however, not the faintest notion of the fact
that Hetty Leger read his thoughts.
"You see, it's quite simple," she said. "I made this bread, and there
are men up the valley who are really finding gold. They don't want to
waste a minute doing anything else, and it takes time to bake. You can't
even make flapjacks in a moment. Now, if I had two or three sacks of
flour I think I could get almost what I liked to ask for every loaf."
Leger looked up with a little expressive smile. "I believe she has found
the way out of the difficulty."
It was, however, Ingleby at whom Hetty glanced, though it did not strike
him then--as it did long afterwards--that she must have been quite
aware what she was offering him.
"Well?" she said.
Ingleby's lips were set, and his face a trifle grim. To live, even for
the purpose of working for a result by which she would benefit, upon the
yield of a woman's enterprise and toil did not commend itself to him,
though he could not very well tell her so.
"We haven't got the flour," he said.
"No," said Hetty. "Still, it can be bought at the settlement, and no
doubt you could find the pack-horses in the bush. You could go down and
get it while Tom holds the claim."
"There is still the difficulty that I haven't got the money."
Hetty laughed. "I have. The wages were really good at the
boarding-house. Of course, you and Tom could build the oven and chop the
wood, while I wouldn't mind your kneading the dough either if you wanted
to. That would leave me with nothing to do but watch the bread baking."
Ingleby still said nothing; but his face, as the firelight showed, was a
trifle flushed, and Leger shook his head at him. "One can't afford to be
whimsical up here," he said. "Anyway, I'm willing to give the thing a
trial, and if we don't strike gold we can always go over to Tomlinson's
or start baking, too. I shouldn't wonder if it should turn out as
profitable as mining, and it is certainly likely to be a good deal more
reliable."
Hetty once more glanced at Ingleby. "Of course, we can't make you join
us if you don't want."
At last Ingleby turned to her. "Hetty," he said quietly, "I don't think
you could understand how much you have done for me. I would sooner cut
my hand off than let the claim go."
Hetty only smiled, and they had almost thrashed out the scheme when a
thud of hoofs came up faintly through the roar of the river from the
gorge below. Then the figure of a horseman became visible, and when he
swung himself very stiffly from the saddle in front of the fire Ingleby
rose hastily and held out his hand.
"Mr. Sewell!" he said. "I don't mean it conventionally, this--is--a
pleasure."
The stranger, who swept his wide hat off as he turned to Hetty, laughed.
"I have just come in. I wonder if I could ask--Mrs. Ingleby, isn't
it--for a little supper?"
The request was a very usual one in a country where the stranger is
rarely turned away unfed; but Hetty, who seemed to draw a little farther
back into the shadow, was a trifle slow in answering it.
"Miss Leger!" she said. "Of course, you shall have supper. Put on two
more trout and fill the kettle, Tom."
Sewell gratefully took his place beside the fire, and, for he had an
engaging tongue, had almost gained Hetty's confidence, which was not
lightly given, by the time the meal was over. Then she looked hard at
him.
"What did you come here for?" she asked.
"Wouldn't the fame of the Green River mines be excuse enough?" said the
man.
Hetty shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't think it would. People
who talk as you do aren't generally fond of digging."
"Then finding I wasn't wanted in Vancouver I went back into the States,
and as usual got into a trifling difficulty there. That was in Colorado,
where the men and the manager of a certain big mine couldn't come to
terms. The manager was, as not infrequently happens, friendly with the
constituted authorities, and between them and the men's executive, with
whom I managed to quarrel, they made that town unpleasant for me. Of
course, one gets accustomed to having his character pulled to pieces and
being hustled in the streets, but they go rather farther than that in
Colorado."
"And so you ran away?"
Sewell laughed. "I certainly went when it was evident that I could do no
good. Still, it was in the daylight, and half the populace came with me
to the station."
"I asked you what brought you here," said Hetty severely.
Sewell made a little expressive gesture. "Between friends--I think I can
go so far?" he asked, and it was Hetty alone he looked at. "You see, I
met your brother and Mr. Ingleby in Vancouver."
Hetty regarded him silently for a moment or two. He was a well-favoured
man with a curiously pleasing manner. "Yes," she said. "I think you
can."
"Then I came here to see what I could do at mining--I have really used
the shovel oftener than you seem to fancy--and, when it is necessary, go
through by the Indian trail to the camps between this country and the
Yukon. Though they will probably work on quietly while the ground is
soft, they're not pleased with the mining regulations yonder."
He looked out into the soft blue darkness which now veiled the great
white peaks that lay between him and the vast desolation of the
Northwest, and the smile died out of his eyes. A few moments slipped by
before Leger broke the silence.
"I believe that trail is scarcely practicable to a white man. Only one
or two have ever tried it," he said.
"That is so much the better. I am, however, certainly going in."
There was a little silence, and then Ingleby said suggestively, "They
have been sending a good many of the Northwest Police into that
country."
Sewell smiled. "From one point of view I think they were wise. It's not
the contented that one usually finds mining in the wilderness. The
soil, of course, is British, but that, after all, does not imply very
much."
"You mean that the men up there have no country?" asked Leger.
"Some of them, at least, have unpleasantly good memories. They are the
cast-outs and the superfluities; but, as no doubt you know, it is not
their criminals the older lands get rid of now."
"That," said Hetty sharply, "is all nonsense. If they're really bad they
are put into prison."
Sewell laughed. "I believe they are, now and then. Now, suppose you tell
me about the Green River country."
They sat late that night about the crackling fire, though there was a
vague uneasiness upon two of them. Hetty liked the stranger, as a man,
but she had seen that trouble came of following out the theories he
believed in; while all Ingleby wished for just then was an opportunity
for toiling quietly at his claim.
Sewell naturally slept in their tent, and it was not until he had
breakfasted next morning that he rode into the valley. Ingleby walked
with him a short distance, and as it happened they met Grace Coulthurst
on the trail. She smiled as she passed Ingleby. Sewell, his companion
fancied, looked at her harder than was necessary as he sat still in the
saddle, a somewhat striking figure of a man, with his wide hat in his
hand.
"Who is that?" he asked.
"Miss Coulthurst, daughter of the Gold Commissioner."
"There is no reason why a prospector shouldn't look at a queen, and she
has a striking face. Of course, one would hardly call it
beautiful--still, it is distinctly attractive."
"You have no doubt met a good many beautiful women of her station?"
asked Ingleby, who was a trifle nettled and could not quite restrain the
ironical question.
Sewell laughed. "Well," he said, "I have certainly come across one or
two. Besides, I had rather a fancy that I might be an artist once--a
good while ago."
Ingleby was duly astonished, but no more was said on the subject, and in
another few minutes Sewell rode on up the valley alone.
X