Tomlinson watched her with grave, reflective eyes. "Gordon was 'most
glad to eat cedar bark not long ago," he said. "Did you ever get a
dollar out of him?"
"That," said Hetty quietly, "is not your business, Mr. Tomlinson."
The long-limbed miner apparently ruminated over this.
"Well," he said, "I guess it isn't, but you just let me know when you
want any debts collected. I figure I could be quite smart at it."
"They do it with a gun in your country?" asked Leger.
Tomlinson held up a hard and distinctly large-sized hand. "No, sir! If
ever I get that on one of the fakirs who sling ink at us I guess I'll
make my little protest."
There was silence for a minute or two, and during it the beat of hoofs
came out of the valley. They drew nearer, and Tomlinson laughed softly
as he glanced at the listeners' faces.
"Hall Sewell! He's coming back," he said.
"Mr. Sewell is across the divide ever so far away," said Hetty.
"Well," said the big prospector, "that cayuse of his is coming up the
trail 'most too played out to put its feet down."
It was five minutes later when Sewell appeared leading the horse, which
was in almost as sorry a case as he was. His jean garments hung about
him torn to rags, and his face was gaunt and drawn with weariness and
hunger. He stood still, smiling at them, in the uncertain light of the
fire.
"I've come back--warned off by the police as usual," he said. "In the
language of the country, nobody seems to have any use for me."
The naive admission appealed to Hetty as much as the signs of privation,
which were plain upon him, did, and stirred her more than any account of
a successful mission would have done. Sewell was, perhaps, aware of
this, for he had the gift of pleasing women.
"Well," she said, "where else would you come to? Whenever you want it
there's room here for you. Walter, take his horse, and then spread his
blankets out near the fire. Tom, you'll get another trout and fill the
kettle."
They did her bidding, though Ingleby wondered a little as he set about
it, for Hetty had astonished him somewhat frequently of late. He had
long regarded her as a girl devoid of intellectuality, to be petted with
brotherly kindliness and taken care of in case of necessity, and it had
never occurred to him until he came to Canada that there was any depth
of character in Hetty Leger. It was, in fact, almost disconcerting to
find that she had changed into a capable woman who had by her enterprize
alone enabled him and her brother to hold on to their claim. She was
virtually mistress now, as the commands she had given him indicated;
but, while it afforded him a gratification he did not quite understand
to do her bidding, it was a trifle difficult to accustom himself to the
position.
In the meanwhile Tomlinson, who chafed inwardly because no commands had
been laid on him, lay, with respectful admiration, watching her prepare
Sewell's supper. When it was ready Sewell made an excellent meal, and
then stretched himself out wearily on a pile of branches near the fire.
The red light flickered uncertainly upon the towering trunks behind him,
and now and then fell upon the long-limbed Tomlinson lying in the shadow
and Hetty sitting in her deer-hide chair with Ingleby and Leger
stretched close at her feet. It never occurred to her that there was
anything anomalous in this. They were, in the phraseology of the
country, her boys, and though Hetty Leger was far from clever she had
the comprehension that comes of sympathy, and she understood and ruled
them as a woman with greater intellect probably could not have done. The
night was cool and still, and the hoarse murmur of the river came up in
pulsations across the pines.
"After a long journey through the bush this is exceptionally nice, even
though it is a little rough on Miss Leger," said Sewell, with a quiet
smile. "Her cares are increasing, for another of her boys has come home
a trifle the worse for wear to-night, but I scarcely think she minds. It
is the women who never do mind that are worth all the rest."
Once more Ingleby was astonished and gratified. Sewell was, of course, a
speaker by profession, but there was a vibration in his voice which
signified that this was more than a passing compliment. Ingleby believed
implicitly in Sewell, and the fact that the man he looked up to should
regard Hetty as he evidently did had naturally its effect on him, since
it not infrequently needs the appreciation of others to make clear the
value of that which lies nearest to one. Hetty, however, as usual
evinced no originality.
"When you came in one would have fancied it was quite a long while since
you were a boy," she said.
"Now and then I feel it is. Men who lead the life I do grow old rapidly,
you see. We are, in fact, nurtured on the storm, but that is really no
reason why we shouldn't occasionally like to rest in the sunshine."
"It has been dark 'most an hour," said Tomlinson the practical.
Sewell turned and glanced at him reproachfully. "It is always sunshine
where Hetty Leger is."
"Well," said Hetty, with a little laugh, "you haven't seen me when the
dough won't rise, and I don't like idle boys. They get into mischief.
What are you going to do?"
"Peg down a claim and earn my living virtuously. I have, you see, tried
mining already. I like this end of the valley, and because you have made
me one of the family I fancy I'll put up a shanty here. That brings on
the question of provisions, and when I was clambering down the range I
came upon two or three black-tail deer. I'm going back to get one as
soon as the stiffness has worn off me. Will you or Leger come with me,
Ingleby?"
"Walter will go," said Hetty.
Ingleby turned towards her slowly, and she noticed the jaded look in his
face, which was a trifle hollow as well as bronzed. He had toiled with a
fierce, feverish impatience for long weeks at two profitless claims, and
mind and body felt the strain. Still, he remembered that it was some
time since he had contributed anything to the common fund.
"I've ever so much on hand," he said. "Send Tom."
Hetty made a little authoritative gesture. "Tom couldn't hit a deer to
save his life, and my boys are expected to do what they're told. You
will take him, Mr. Sewell, and if you let him come back to the claim in
less than a week I'll be vexed with you."
Ingleby, who knew that Hetty could be persistent, permitted Sewell to
arrange the expedition; and when the latter retired shortly afterwards,
Tomlinson, who had said very little, looked up.
"You like that man?" he asked.
"Of course!" said Hetty. "If I hadn't I wouldn't have had him here."
Tomlinson said nothing further, but Hetty laughed when he glanced
inquiringly at Ingleby.
"You needn't ask Walter. There are two people he believes in before
anybody else, and Mr. Sewell's one of them."
"And I guess I know who the other is," said Tomlinson, who was a trifle
tactless now and then.
Hetty looked at him instead of at Ingleby.
"No," she said reflectively, "I don't think you do. It doesn't matter
who she is, anyway, and you haven't told me what you think of Mr.
Sewell."
Tomlinson, who watched her with steady eyes, sat silent a moment as
though ruminating over something he could not quite understand. Then he
said, "The man has grit. Still, I haven't much use for his notion of
going round trailing out trouble."
"It isn't difficult to find it," said Ingleby.
"Well," said Tomlinson, "I'm not going to light out when it comes along
my way; but I guess I'll wait until it does, like a sensible man, and
just now I have no use for any. Our folks in Oregon are poor, and if my
luck holds out there's an old woman who's had 'bout as much trouble as
she can bear going to have an easy time the rest of her life."
He stopped a moment and rose leisurely to his feet. "Well, I'll go along
now. I guess Sewell means well. Good night."
He turned away, and when he lumbered into the shadow of the pines Leger
smiled at Ingleby.
"It seems to me that Tomlinson's recommendation didn't go very far," he
said.
Ingleby laughed, a trifle scornfully. "Did you expect anything else?
When a man who could have made himself almost anything he wished gives
himself up to a life of privation for the good of his fellows, it's a
little gained when men of Tomlinson's description are willing to admit
that he probably has good intentions."
He retired to sleep shortly afterwards, for he and Leger commenced their
labours at sunrise every day. A week later, towards dusk one evening, he
and Sewell stopped near the edge of a deep ravine some distance from
their camp in the ranges.
The torrent which had worn it out moaned far down in the shadow below,
and the sombre firs rolled up to the edge of it two hundred yards away.
Thickets of tall fern and salmon-berry hung over the brink, and for a
score of yards or so a slope of soil and gravel sprinkled with tufts of
juniper and dwarf firs ran down steeper than a roof. Then it broke off
abruptly, and from where they stood Ingleby could not see the bottom of
the gulf beneath, though he knew that the depth of such canyons is often
several hundred feet. They had left their camp that morning, and one
small black-tail deer, which Sewell had shot, was all they had to show
for a day of strenuous labour.
"No way of getting across there," said Sewell as he flung himself down
at the foot of a cedar. "It's a little unfortunate, too, because from
what Tomlinson said it's a good bear country on the opposite side. One
deer won't last very long even if we can manage to dry it, and there are
parts of the black bear that are a good deal nicer than you might
suppose."
"Have you ever tried them?" asked Ingleby.
Sewell laughed. "I have. In fact, I lived on black bear for rather
longer than I cared about when I was up in the ranges once before. It's
not unlike pork. I mean the kind the Canadian usually keeps for home
consumption."
That a man, who could probably get nothing else, should have lived on
bear meat is, of course, not necessarily any great recommendation, but
the fact tended to increase Ingleby's respect for his companion. There
was, it seemed, very little that Sewell had not done or borne for the
cause of the Democracy, and Ingleby had already indued him with the
qualities of Garibaldi. Other men, older and shrewder than he was, are,
however, occasionally addicted to idealization; and Sewell could
certainly ride and shoot as well as he could rouse the hopes and
passions of the multitude--which was a good deal. Ingleby, who could do
neither, had the Englishman's appreciation of physical capability, and
it had once or twice been a grief to him to discover that other
exponents of the opinions Sewell held were flabby, soft-fleshed men
whose appearance warranted the belief that the adoption of the simple
laborious life they lauded would promptly make an end of them.
The hard and wiry Sewell, who, while he preached his gospel, earned his
bread by bodily toil, a man of comely presence and finished courtesy,
Spartanly temperate in everything but speech, with unquestioned physical
as well as moral courage, approached in his opinion the Paulinian ideal.
It was, however, seldom that he permitted it to become apparent, for
Ingleby, like most men who shape their lives by them, kept his deeper
thoughts to himself, and on that occasion he complained about a boot
which had split in an untimely fashion at a seam, until Sewell looked
up.
"Did you hear anything?" he asked.
Ingleby, who had not lived very long in the bush, naturally heard
nothing until the sudden crash of a rifle was flung back by the
hillside. Then there was a sharp smashing of undergrowth, and it was
plain to him that a beast of some description was travelling through the
bush.
"A bear!" exclaimed Sewell. "The small black kind go straight at
everything which lies between them and their covert. I fancy that one's
partly crippled, too. It's your shot. If he breaks cover you might stop
him for the man he belongs to."
Ingleby took up the rifle he was not greatly accustomed to, and waited,
crouching, with his eyes on the forest and one foot drawn under him
while the snapping and crackling drew nearer, until a shambling form
lurched out of a thicket. Then, while the foresight, which he could not
keep still, wobbled all over it, he pressed the trigger, or, at least,
attempted to do so as the miner to whom the rifle belonged had
instructed him. He felt the butt jar his shoulder, and the smoke blew in
his eyes, while a man burst out of the undergrowth. There was no sign of
the bear, and Ingleby fancied it had plunged over the edge of the
ravine. The man was red in face, and gasped as he brandished his rifle
in their direction.
"Who the devil are you trying to shoot?" he said.
He did not stop, however; and Sewell, who recognized him as Major
Coulthurst, sprang to his feet, and sent a warning shout after him.
"Hold on, sir. There's a big gully right in front of you," he said.
The major did not seem to hear him, and next moment there was a crash as
he floundered through a thicket. Then he disappeared suddenly, and
Ingleby felt a little shiver run through him as he heard a suggestive
rattle of stones.
"Gone over!" he said hoarsely. "Still, the top part's not quite so
horribly steep."
They made for the spot at a floundering run, for it is a trifle
difficult to travel fast in the bush, and came gasping to a rent in the
undergrowth on the edge of the gully. Ingleby set his lips as he looked
down.
The major, who looked up at them with fear in his eyes, lay full length
on the steepest part of the slope beneath, with both hands clenched
upon a little bush of juniper. Two or three yards beneath him lay a
shadowy gulf, and the dull roar of water that came up suggested its
depth.
"I think this thing is coming out," he said.
Ingleby saw a diminutive fir close to the man, and two more between
himself and the edge of the canyon, for in that country the firs will
grow on anything short of an upright wall, and next moment he swung
himself over the edge. However, he did it cautiously, taking care to
drive his feet well into the gravel, and finally contrived to slide down
to the nearest tree. Sewell was evidently coming down behind him, for
the stones went rattling by and struck the upturned face beneath. It was
flushed and distorted, with swollen veins on the forehead, for the man
was evidently feeling the strain.
"Can you hold on for a minute or two, sir?" Ingleby asked.
"I might manage one--not more," was the hoarse answer.
"That should do," said Ingleby reassuringly, and letting himself go
again clutched at the tree close above the brink of the declivity. He
also grasped Sewell, who was coming down backwards amidst a shower of
stones; and, when he arrived safe, lay full length with his comrade's
hand upon his waist and one arm stretched out. Nor did he stop to
consider whether he could get back to the tree again when the major
clutched his hand.
"Hold fast, and we'll pull you up," he said.
Next moment a strenuous grip closed upon his hand, and he felt his arm
being drawn out of its socket as he strove to bend his back. Coulthurst
was horribly heavy and apparently incapable of rendering him any
assistance. Indeed, for a moment or two he was far from sure that they
would not slide down into the shadowy gorge together. He could see the
major's suffused face and hear Sewell gasping behind him.
Then Coulthurst, apparently by a supreme effort, raised himself a
trifle, and he was a foot or two nearer the fir when he lay prone again.
Ingleby fancied he could feel his sinews cracking, and knew they would
not endure that tension long.
"Reach your left hand back!" said Sewell hoarsely. Ingleby did so, and
felt the bark of the slender tree, while Sewell leaned out recklessly
over him and clutched Coulthurst's shoulder. Then, for a few seconds,
they made a very grim effort, until the major got one foot under him and
seized the tree. After that there was no great difficulty, and when they
dragged him out of peril he lay still, gasping, for almost a minute.
Then he raised himself so that he could sit.
"I think my rifle went over," he said. "Where's the bear?"
Sewell's eyes twinkled, and Ingleby laughed, as did the major.
"Of course!" he said. "Very much obliged, I'm sure. I mean it.
But--where is--the bear?"
Personal peril was not exactly a new thing to the major, who was also a
man of fixed ideas; but he made a little comprehensive gesture when
Sewell glanced significantly at the edge of the precipice.
"I don't know, sir, and really don't think an attempt to find out would
be advisable," he said.
As a matter of fact, they never did discover what became of the bear;
but in the meanwhile nobody said anything further for a moment or two.
Then the major rubbed his leg.
"We couldn't very well stay here all night--and I've hurt my knee," he
said.
Ingleby glanced at the almost precipitous descent. "I'm afraid we
couldn't get you up without a rope."
"I am quite satisfied that you couldn't, and don't propose to let you
try," said the major. "There are, however, the pack-horse lariats at my
camp, and it can't be more than two miles away. I have a police trooper
there. One of you could get up?"
Ingleby fancied that it was within his powers.
"I'll try, sir, if it's only because I believe I came very near shooting
you," he said.