Ingleby contrived to discover Coulthurst's camp, and when a police
trooper carrying a stout lariat accompanied him back to the ravine they
had some little difficulty in transporting the major, who was no light
weight, to the surface. It was, however, safely accomplished, and
Ingleby was not greatly astonished to hear he had in the meanwhile
insisted upon their spending at least that night in his commodious tent.
Sewell possessed the useful faculty of making a good impression upon
almost anybody, and generally exercised it, even when it did not appear
worth while.
They spent the next day with the major, who extended them a bluff but
cordial invitation to visit him at his official residence, which
Ingleby, for reasons of his own, promised to do. He was, however, a
little astonished that Sewell, who had not his inducement, and could
scarcely be expected to consider Major Coulthurst's patronage any
particular compliment, should evince an equal alacrity. Still, he did
not feel warranted in inquiring his comrade's reasons, and promptly
forgot all about it when a few days later he and Leger bottomed upon
gold. It was not a rich find. Indeed, they laboriously transported and
washed down a good many hundred-weights of debris in return for an
insignificant quantity of the precious metal; but it was sufficient to
fill Ingleby with fresh ardour, and he lengthened his hours of toil
until it was with difficulty he dragged himself back at night to the
camp on the hillside. Every stroke of pick and drill brought him so
much nearer the realization of his aspirations.
Leger protested now and then, but Hetty, who was wiser, said nothing,
though there were times when she watched Ingleby, who naturally never
suspected it, with anxious eyes. The physical strain and tension were
commencing to tell on him, for even the experienced placer miner seldom
knows whether the next few strokes of the shovel will bring him wealth
or make it evident that he has thrown his toil away.
There, however, came an evening when Ingleby desisted early in order to
redeem his promise to Coulthurst, and when he had made what he felt was
a very insufficient toilet Sewell, who had pegged out a claim in the
vicinity, arrived at the bakery. Hetty and Leger were sitting, as usual
at that hour, beside the fire, and there was a little twinkle in the
latter's eyes as he glanced at Sewell.
"I suppose," he said, "Major Coulthurst knows whom he is to have the
pleasure of entertaining."
Sewell laughed. "I felt it my duty to inform him; but my name did not
seem to convey very much to him. In fact, I don't mind admitting that
one could have fancied he had never heard of it. Then, having a certain
sense of fitness, I endeavoured to make him understand what my views
were. They didn't appear to affect him greatly, either. He was good
enough to predict that I would probably grow out of them."
"He hasn't told you all," Ingleby broke in. "Major Coulthurst graciously
admitted that most men are occasionally afflicted with fancies of the
kind when they are young. No sensible person minded it. He had even
indulged in them himself when his colonel had been unduly hard on him,
and he seemed quite under the impression that people generally took to
our opinions by way of protest when they fancied themselves badly used."
For a moment it almost seemed to Ingleby that Sewell's face hardened,
and he remembered that his comrade had appeared faintly disconcerted
when the major expressed this view in camp. It had naturally not
occurred to Ingleby that Major Coulthurst's deductions, like those of
other men with no great appearance of intelligence, might come near the
truth now and then. Hetty, who was looking at Sewell, did not, however,
appear to notice anything unusual.
"So you told him who you really were?" she asked.
Sewell, for no very evident reason, stooped and flicked a little dust
off one of his boots, and it was a few moments later when he looked up
with a smile.
"I think you heard me mention it," he said. "You are ready, Ingleby?"
Ingleby stood up, with a somewhat rueful glance, not altogether
unwarranted, at his attire. He did not know what Hetty meant, and felt
no great interest in the question, for he had a supreme faith in one man
and one woman, and if he had discovered that Sewell had been charged
with felony it would not have concerned him greatly. He would have
believed in him, almost in spite of the evidences of his senses.
Coulthurst received them cordially when they reached his little
log-built dwelling, which stood not far from the police outpost beyond
the canyon where a tremendous wall of hillside shut in the adjacent
valley. That region, while unpleasantly remote from civilization, was
still accessible, and the Gold Commissioners' quarters were, considering
their situation, far from uncomfortable. There was even a very artistic
set of chessmen at which Coulthurst glanced during a pause in the
conversation.
"I was once in a native Indian state, and those pieces are a little
memento," he said. "They played the game rather well there, and I've had
a liking for it ever since."
Now Ingleby's father had also played chess well, and he knew a little of
the game; but he was accustomed to yield his comrade priority and was
more than usually content to do so that evening. Sewell, who seemed to
understand this, smiled.
"I'm afraid I should make a very indifferent opponent, sir, but that is
your affair," he said.
Coulthurst drew out a little table with some alacrity, and Grace and
Ingleby found a place apart from them. The latter made no great attempt
at conversation, for he was worn-out by a long day's toil and quite
content to be there and listen to his companion. Ingleby could talk when
he felt prompted to; but, like other men with the capacity for strenuous
effort, he could be silent without embarrassing himself or those about
him.
In the meanwhile the surroundings had their effect on him. The soft
light of the big shaded lamp was pleasant after the glare of the
crackling fire; the hangings that hid door and windows conveyed to one
who had lived as he had done a suggestion of comfort and luxury; and his
eyes did not miss the fashion in which each trifle brought up through
long leagues of forest on the pack-saddle had been arranged. Grace
Coulthurst had artistic tastes, and she had also, to some extent, the
means of indulging them.
It was, however, her propinquity that most affected him. Her daintiness
appealed to his senses, and the faint perfume that hung about her and
the touch of her gown when it brushed against him sent a little thrill
through him. Miss Coulthurst was possibly not unaware of this, but she
was none the less gracious to him. Ingleby was a well-favoured man, and
physical effort and endurance with a wholesome singleness of purpose had
set a stamp on him that almost amounted to distinction. Athletic toil
and plain living, with the moral discipline which binds the worn-out
flesh in obedience to the will, have a refining influence on most men,
and there was in Ingleby's gaunt face, steady eyes, and clear, bronzed
skin the faint suggestion of spirituality which in that country, at
least, not infrequently characterizes even the placer miner of low
degree. Grace Coulthurst, who had quick perceptions, recognized it, but
naturally kept her impressions to herself.
"Mr. Sewell plays chess very well," she said. "In fact, he made what
seemed to me a really brilliant opening."
"He is one of the men who do everything that is worth while well," said
Ingleby. "That sounds a little comprehensive, but I almost think it's no
more than the fact."
Grace asked no very pertinent question that Ingleby could remember; but
she nevertheless induced him to speak of his comrade, which, being
simple of mind in some respects, he had evident pleasure in doing. In
the meanwhile she watched the man at the chess-table, and it seemed to
her that part, at least, of his friend's belief in him was justified.
Sewell's face was expressive and mobile as well as forceful, and there
was a subtle suggestive gracefulness in his speech and gesture which was
not to be found in Ingleby's. Then she smiled, and changed the subject.
"I wonder," she said, "why he sacrificed the castle?"
"The knight," said Ingleby gravely, "was certainly not a very good
exchange."
Grace laughed. "I scarcely think you would ever, as they say in this
country, go back on a friend. My father, as he said, is fond of the
game, but that doesn't go very far, after all."
"He plays it creditably."
"And Mr. Sewell, as you are quite aware, plays it exceptionally well. I
wonder if he realizes that the major is not fond of losing."
Ingleby smiled as he again glanced round the room. Then he turned to
her, the origin and complement of its refinement, and she read his
thoughts without difficulty.
"I scarcely think that anybody who knows how we live would blame him,"
he said.
Grace laughed. "Then," she said, "as I'm not quite sure that I know,
suppose you tell me."
Ingleby did so in simple fashion, and it is probable that most young
women would not have found his story entertaining. Grace Coulthurst, who
had lived in the bush, however, had comprehension and could fill in a
good deal that he did not supply. It was also, in its own way, to one
who knew that country, an epic, a recital of man's high endeavour and
herculean grapple with untrammelled nature, for in the struggle for the
subjugation of the wilderness the placer miner leads the van. The
smothering rush of slipping gravel, the crash of shattered props as the
little shaft closed up, and the unexpected fall of half-charred trees
had a place in it, as well as the monotony of toil, and the girl
listened gravely.
"And you have found the gold?" she said.
"A little," said Ingleby, "but not half enough. We have failed to bottom
quite on the old creek bed, and are going to sink again or drive an
adit."
The mention of insufficiency was in itself significant, for though he
had spoken no word in Canada that could afford the slightest hint of the
aspirations that had animated him Grace was quite aware of them. There
are not many women who do not know when a man is in love with them.
"But there are only two of you, and it will take you ever so long," she
said.
"Still, we will get it done," and there was a curious brightness in
Ingleby's eyes.
Grace noticed the hollowness of his quiet face and the leanness of his
hard, scarred hands, and her heart grew soft towards him. The sign of
the strain was plain upon him, though the breaking point had not yet
been reached, and it was for her that he had done so much.
"And you expect the effort will be warranted?" she said.
Ingleby turned and looked at her gravely.
"Men get rich placer mining now and then, and it might happen to me," he
said. "In fact, I almost think from what one or two of the old
prospectors tell me that I am going to be successful. I don't know if
you will understand me, but after a life like mine the probability of
being so is a little overwhelming."
There was a tension in his voice which had its effect upon the girl, and
she sat silent for a moment or two until the major's voice broke sharply
in on them.
"Check! I fancied at one time the game was in your hands, but there's
seldom much use in anticipating when there are points you can't
foresee," he said.
Grace glanced at Ingleby, who smiled.
"I'm afraid Major Coulthurst is right. One can only wait," he said.
Just then there was a tapping at the door, and Ingleby moved abruptly
when Esmond came in. The officer, however, showed no sign of
astonishment when he saw who was there, but smiled as he looked at
Grace, and turned to the major.
"I have just come across for a few minutes, and will not disturb you,
sir," he said. "I don't suppose you have any objections to my looking
over your register?"
"No," said Coulthurst. "It's yonder. Has anything gone wrong?"
Esmond's eyes rested for just a moment on Sewell. "Only two or three of
the men talking rather wildly, sir. Somebody has been putting notions
into their heads. It occurred to me I might as well make sure they all
had certificates."
"Quite right!" said Coulthurst appreciatively. "I have decided
objections to their doing me out of my money."
Esmond took down the register, which was not remarkably well kept, and
had some little trouble in tracing out the information he desired. At
last, however, he read, "Thomas Leger, Free miner's certificate, Five
dollars; also Five dollars, Walter Ingleby."
He made a careful note of the date, and then turned over the pages
systematically. Later on he found, "Walter Ingleby, Five dollars," but
there was no further entry for Leger. Then he put the book back, and the
major glanced at him.
"Check!" he said. "I almost think I've got you, Mr. Sewell. You found
what you wanted, Reggie?"
"Yes, sir," said Esmond, whose eyes now rested on Grace and Ingleby. "I
fancy I have."
He crossed the room in a leisurely fashion, and Ingleby rose when Grace
turned to him.
"You have no doubt come across Mr. Ingleby in the course of your duties,
Reggie, but I should like to present him formally as one of my friends,"
she said.
Esmond made Ingleby, who responded as briefly, a little curt
inclination.
"I have," he said, "certainly met Mr. Ingleby at least twice already."
"I believe I remember one occasion," said Grace, with a little twinkle
in her eyes. She had naturally not heard of the second encounter. "I'm
not sure you were in quite as good a temper as usual that night. Still,
you see, circumstances are very different now."
Esmond laughed, but there was a dryness in his tone which Ingleby
afterwards remembered.
"Circumstances have a trick of changing somewhat rapidly in this
country," he said. "You have, I believe, bottomed on gold, Mr. Ingleby?"
"Yes," said Ingleby.
"You struck it rich?"
"No," said Ingleby. "Still, the signs are promising. We hope to be more
fortunate when we have driven our adit."
"How long do you expect to be over it?"
"It is a little difficult to tell."
Esmond appeared to reflect, and Grace, who watched him, did not quite
understand his face.
"Well," he said, "I suppose placer mining is always a trifle uncertain.
One would almost fancy that baking was more profitable. Your friend Miss
Leger seems to be doing well, or is it your venture?"
Ingleby wondered if this was meant for Miss Coulthurst's enlightenment;
but he could not very well permit his dislike of the man, who would
seize such an opportunity, to become apparent then, and there was also
something in Esmond's tone which suggested that he might, after all,
have a different purpose. Unfortunately, he had no notion of what that
purpose was.
"She is," he said quietly, "selling a good deal of bread."
"At excellent prices! Still, she probably deserves all she gains. It
would cost a good deal to bring flour up. How did she get it?"
Ingleby was a little astonished at the man's persistence, and Grace
noticed it.
"Are you going to turn baker, too?" she asked.
Esmond laughed in a fashion which brought the blood to Ingleby's face.
Still, he answered the man's question.
"I went down for it," he said.
Just then the major's voice broke in again. "A very good fight, Mr.
Sewell. I scarcely think I could have beaten you if you hadn't let me
see your game. However strong your position is, that is very seldom
wise."
"Major Coulthurst," said Esmond, "is now and then astonishingly
accurate. One could generalize from such a speech as that. But to resume
the topic, wasn't it a little careless of you, Ingleby? You invalidate
your record when you leave a placer claim."
Ingleby, secure, as he fancied, smiled. "Leger," he said, "holds a share
with me."
"Of course!" said Esmond, as though the subject had no longer any
interest to him. "So you left Leger! Well, I must get back to the
outpost now. Grace, you will excuse me."
He went out, and while Grace entertained Ingleby the major and Sewell,
who lost again, played another game. Then she made and served them
coffee with her own hands, and Ingleby, at least, went back to his tent
filled with the memory of how she did it.
In the meanwhile Grace, sitting by the fire when he had gone away,
glanced at her father.
"I wonder," she said, "what you think of Mr. Sewell?"
"The man," said Coulthurst, "is, in spite of the opinions he seems to
hold, evidently a gentleman; I can't think of a more appropriate word
for it. There is also, I fancy, a good deal more in him than any one who
was not good at reading character might suppose. He plays chess
exceptionally well. In fact, almost as well as I do."
Grace smiled a little. "I fancied he did," she said. "Were you equally
pleased with his companion?"
"Yes," said the major reflectively. "He strikes me as sensible and
solid--and one has a fancy that there's often a screw loose somewhere
about brilliant men. They are apt to--double up unexpectedly--when the
strain comes. The other kind I always find are more likely to wear
well."
Grace laughed, but made no observation. Major Coulthurst, as she was
quite aware, was almost painfully solid himself, but he had, at least,
stood the rough usage of a hard world remarkably well, and she was
disposed to admit the correctness of his opinion. Still, there was, in
spite of his name, something about Sewell that Ingleby did not possess
which appealed to her.