Ingleby, who was very drowsy, did not seem quite sure what to make of
this, and gazed meditatively at the fire.
"That stone hearth wasn't there when I left," he said. "Who made it,
Hetty?"
"Tomlinson. Tom went round to tell the boys about the bakery, and
Tomlinson came over to show him how to build the oven."
"And he made this chair? Now I think of it we hadn't one before, and Tom
certainly didn't make it. It's too comfortable."
"Yes," said Hetty.
"And he built the new shed?"
"He certainly did!"
Ingleby seemed by no means pleased. "It seems to me," he said severely,
"that Tomlinson has been doing a good deal here. Now, you ought to know
that when you want any improvements made you have only to ask Tom and
me."
"Could you build a chimney like that one?"
"No," said Ingleby decisively. "If I must be honest, I don't think I
could. Still, there wasn't the least occasion to ask Tomlinson. He must
have been here more than once?"
"I believe he was here three or four times."
"Why did he come so often?"
Hetty laughed. "He said it was to see how Tom was getting on with the
oven."
"Of course!" said Ingleby. "Well, I suppose one excuse was as good as
another. One would, however, fancy that Tomlinson had quite enough to do
looking after his mine."
Hetty flashed a swift glance at him, but Ingleby was not looking at her.
He was too drowsy to be quite sure of what he felt, but the fact that
Tomlinson had been there on several occasions was far from pleasing him.
Just then Tom Leger came in with the kettle which he had boiled on the
fire outside, and Ingleby roused himself.
"I suppose you have struck nothing on the claim?" he said.
"No," said Leger. "Only a trace of colour, but I don't want to talk of
that to-night. You can tell us about your journey when you have had
supper."
Ingleby did so, though the narrative was distinctly tame in its
unvarnished conciseness until he came to his meeting with Esmond. He had
no desire that Hetty should know what he had endured on her account,
while it is, after all, difficult to make another person understand what
one feels like when worn-out to the verge of exhaustion. Ingleby did not
attempt it, but his tone changed a trifle as he tried to picture the
policeman floundering in the river. Leger laughed softly, but the
firelight showed a little flash in Hetty's eyes.
"Splendid!" she said, and her voice had a little vindictive ring.
Leger looked up with a whimsical smile.
"You appear almost as angry with the man as Walter was," he said.
"Well," replied Hetty sharply, "so I am."
It did not occur to Ingleby to wonder why the fact that the policeman
had attempted to drive him off the trail should cause her so much
indignation, and when Hetty abruptly asked a question calculated to give
a different trend to the subject Leger answered her.
"I fancy I should have endeavoured to let him scrape by if I had been
there," he said. "Crowding a police officer of that kind into a river
may be soothing to one's ruffled temper, but I can't help concluding
that it's likely to turn out expensive."
Ingleby did not answer this, and shortly afterwards retired to the tent,
where he spent the next ten hours in dreamless sleep. He rose a little
later than usual next morning, but did his accustomed work at the mine,
though Leger fancied he was a trifle preoccupied during most of the day.
Shortly before they left their task in the evening they saw Tomlinson
climbing the trail to their camp with a heavy burden on his shoulders.
The miner had apparently got rid of it when they met him coming back,
and smiled in a deprecatory fashion in answer to Ingleby's inquiring
glance.
"I struck a fir that was full of resin knots when I was chopping props,"
he said. "It kind of struck me Miss Leger would have some use for them
at the bakery, and I just took one or two along."
Ingleby appeared rather more reflective than ever when the big miner
went on, and finally laid his hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Of course, it's not exactly my business, but are you wise in
encouraging that man to prowl about the shanty continually, Tom?" he
said.
Leger looked at him in astonishment. "I'm not aware of having done it,
but if it pleases him to come there why shouldn't he?"
"I suppose it doesn't occur to you that there is anything unusual in
the fact that a man whose time is worth a good deal just now should
spend several hours of it hacking pine knots out of trees and then
scramble two miles with as much as a horse could carry on his back over
an infamous trail?"
"You mean that he does not do it to please you or me?"
"Yes," said Ingleby. "That is it exactly. Of course, I know I'm taking
an unwarranted liberty, but if I had felt that Hetty could have had any
liking for him I should not have mentioned it to you. Still, don't you
think it might be better if she didn't see so much of him?"
Leger laughed. "So far, at least, she hasn't shown the smallest sign of
recognizing the merits of the fortunate Tomlinson."
Ingleby looked down across the pines. "We are old friends, and you won't
mind my saying that I'm very glad."
"Well," said Leger, who glanced at him sharply, "I can't quite see why
you should be. The man has an excellent character, and I like him. He
has also, what some folks would consider of as much importance, a
profitable mine."
"Still, he isn't half good enough for her," persisted Ingleby.
Leger did not speak for a moment, and during the somewhat embarrassing
silence his face grew a trifle grave. Then, he said quietly, "I fancy
that is a point for Hetty to decide."