A Damaged Reputation Read online

  III.

  THE NARROW WAY.

  The big engine was running slowly, which did not happen often, andBrooke, who leaned on the planer table, was thankful for the respite. Abelt slid round above him, and on either side were turning wheels, whilehe had in front of him a long vista of sliding logs, whirring saws, andtoiling men. The air was heavy with gritty dust, and a sweet resinoussmell, while here and there a blaze of sunshine streamed into the greatopen-sided building. Something had gone wrong with the big engine, andits sonorous panting, which reverberated across the still, blue inlet,had slackened a trifle. There was not, as a result of this, power enoughto drive all the machines in the mill, and Brooke was waiting until theengineer should set matters right.

  It was very hot in the big shed. In fact, the cedar shingles on the roofwere crackling overhead; and Brooke's thin jean garments were soakedwith perspiration. The dust the planer threw off had also worked its waythrough them, and adhered in smeary patches to his dripping face, whilehis hair and eyebrows might have been rubbed with flour. That finepowder was, however, not the worst, for he was also covered withprismatic grains of wood, whose sharp angles caused him an intolerableirritation when his garments rasped across his flesh. His hands were rawand bleeding, there was a cramp in one shoulder, and an ache, which nowand then grew excruciating, down all the opposite side of him.

  The toilers are, as a rule, at least, liberally paid in Western Canada,but a good deal is expected from them, and the manager of the mill hadinstalled that planer because it could, the makers claimed, be run byone live man. The workmen, however, said that if he held to the contracthe would very soon be dead, and Brooke was already worn out with thestruggle to keep pace with steam. It was a long while since he hadtoiled much at the ranch, and in England he had not toiled at all,while, as he stood there, gasping, and hoping that the engineer wouldnot get through his task too soon, he remembered that on the twoeventful occasions in his life when he had made a commendable decision,it had brought him only trouble and strain. The way of the virtuous, itseemed, was hard.

  He turned languidly when a man who carried an oil can came by andstopped a moment beside him.

  "You're looking kind of played out," said the newcomer.

  "It's not astonishing," said Brooke. "I feel quite that way."

  "Then I guess that's a kind of pity. The boss will have the belt on therelief shaft in a minute now, and he allows he's going to cut every footas much as usual by the supper hour. You'll have to shake yourself quitelively. How long've you been on to that planer?"

  "A month."

  "Well," said the engineer, "she broke the last man up in considerablyless time than that. Weak in the chest he was, and when we were drivingher lively he used to cough up blood. He had to let up sudden one day,and he's in the hospital now. Say, can't you strike somebody for asofter job?"

  "I'm afraid I can't," said Brooke, drily. "I'll have to go on till I'mbeaten."

  The engineer made a little gesture of comprehension as he passed on, forthe attitude the Englishman had adopted is not uncommon in the Dominionof Canada, or the country where toil is at least as arduous to the southof it. Men who demand, and not infrequently obtain, the full value oftheir labor, are proud of their manhood there, and there was an innateresoluteness in Brooke, which had never been wholly awakened in England.

  Suddenly, however, the belt above him ran round; there was a clash as heslipped in the clutch, and a noisy whirring which sank to a deeper tonewhen he flung a rough redwood board upon the table. The whirring millerstook hold of it, and its splintery edges galled his raw hands as heguided it, while thick dust and woody fragments torn off by thetrenchant steel, whirled about him in a stream until his eyes wereblinded and his nostrils filled. Then the board slid off the tablesmooth on one side, and he knew that he was lagging when the hum of themillers changed to a thin scream. They must not at any cost be keptwaiting for their food, for by inexorable custom so many feet of dressedlumber every day was due from that machine.

  He flung up another heavy piece, reckless of the splinters in his hand,made no pause to wipe the rust from his smarting eyes, and peering atthe spinning cutters blindly thrust upon the end of the board, andwondered vaguely whether this was what man was made for, or how longflesh and blood could be expected to stand the strain. The board wentoff the table with a crash, and it was time for the next, while Brooke,who bent sideways with a distressful crick in his waist, once more facedthe sawdust stream with lowered head. It ceased only for a second ortwo, while he stooped from the table to the lumber that slid bygravitation to his feet, and he knew that to let that stream overtakehim and pile up would proclaim his incapacity and defeat. So long as hewas there he must keep pace with it, whatever tax it laid upon his jadedbody.

  He did it for an hour, flagging all the while, for it was a task no mancould have successfully undertaken unless he had done such work before,and Brooke's head was aching under a tension which had grown unendurablethat afternoon. Then the screaming millers closed upon a knot in thewood, and, half-dazed as he was, he thrust upon the board savagely,instead of easing it. There was a crash, a big piece of steel flewacross the table, and the hum of the machine ceased suddenly. Brookelaughed grimly, and sat down gasping. He had done his best, and now hewas not altogether sorry that he was beaten.

  He was still sitting there when a dusty man in store clothes, with alean, intent face, came along and glanced at the planer before he lookedat him.

  "You let her get ahead of you, and tried to make up time by feeding hertoo hard?" he said.

  "No," said Brooke. "Not exactly! She got hold of a knot."

  "Same thing!" said the other man. "You've smashed her, anyway, and itwill cost the company most of three hundred dollars before we get herrunning again. You don't expect me to keep you after that?"

  Brooke smiled drily. "I'm not quite sure that I'd like to stay."

  "Then we'll fix it so it will suit everybody. I'll give you your payorder up to now, and you'll be glad I ran you out by-and-by. There areno chances saw-milling unless you're owner, and it's quite likelysomebody's got a better use for you."

  Brooke understood this as a compliment, and took his order, after whichhe had a spirited altercation with the clerk, who desired him to waitfor payment until it was six o'clock, which he would not do. Then hewent back to his little cubicle, which, with its flimsy partitions onecould hear his neighbor snoring through, resembled a cell in a hive ofbees, in the big boarding-house, and slept heavily until he was awakenedby the clangor of the half-past six supper bell. He descended, and,devouring his share of the meal in ten minutes, which is about the usualtime in that country, strolled leisurely into the great general room,which had a big stove in the middle and a bar down one side of it. Healready loathed the comfortless place, from the hideous oleographs onthe bare wood walls down to the uncleanly sawdust on the floor.

  He sat down, and two men, whose acquaintance he had made during his staythere, lounged across to him. Trade was slack in the province then, andboth wore very threadbare jean. There was also a significant moodinessin their gaunt faces which suggested that they had felt the pinch ofadversity.

  "You let up before supper-time?" said one.

  "I did," said Brooke, a trifle grimly. "I broke up the Kenawa planer inthe Tomlinson mill. That's why I came away. I'm not going back again."

  One of the men laughed softly. "Then it was only the square thing. Sincewe've been here that planer has broke up two or three men. Held out amonth, didn't you? What were you at before that?"

  "Road-making, firing at a cannery, surrey packing. I've a ranch thatdoesn't pay, you see?"

  The other man smiled again. "So have we! Half the deadbeats in thiscountry are landholders, too. Two men couldn't get away with many of thebig trees on our lot in a lifetime, and one has to light out and earnsomething to put the winter through. This month Jake and I have made'bout twenty dollars between us. I guess your trouble's want ofcapital--same as ours. One can't do a great deal w
ith a hundred dollars.Still, you'd have had more than that when you came in?"

  "I had," said Brooke, drily. "I put six thousand into the land, orrather the land-agent's bank, besides what I spent on clearing a littleof it, and when I've paid my board and for the clothes I bought, I'llhave about four dollars now."

  "That's how those land-company folks get rich," said one of the men."Was it a piece of snow mountain he sold you, or a bottomless swamp?"

  "Rock. One might have drained a swamp."

  The men smiled. "Well," said the first of them, "that's not always easy.A man's not a steam navvy--but the game's an old one. It was the IndianSpring folks played it off on you?"

  "No. It was Devine."

  There was a little silence, and then the men appeared reflective.

  "Now, if any man in that business goes tolerably straight, it's Devine,"said one of them. "Of course, if a green Britisher comes along burstingto hand over the bills for any kind of land, he'll oblige him, but I'dsit down and think a little before I called Devine a thief. Anyway, he'squite a big man in the province."

  The bronze deepened a trifle in Brooke's face. "I can't see anyparticular difference between a swindler and a thief. In any case, theman robbed me, and if I live long enough I'll get even with him."

  "That's going to be quite a big contract," said one of the men. "It'sbest to lie low and wait for another fool when you've been taken in.Besides, there's many a worse man in his own line than Devine. There wasone fellow up at Jamieson's when the rush was on. He could talk theshoes off a mule--and he was an Englishman. Whatever any man wanted,fruit-land, mineral-land, sawing lumber, and gold outcrop, he'd got.Picked it out on the survey map and sold it him. For 'most a month herolled the dollars in, and then the circus began. The folks who'd madethe deals went up to see their land, and most of them found it belongedto another man. You see, if three of them wanted maple bush, that'sgenerally good soil and light to clear, and he'd only one piece of it,he sold the same lot to all of them. They went back with clubs, but thatman knew when to light out, and he didn't wait for them."

  Brooke sat silent awhile. He knew that the story was not a very unlikelyone, for while, in view of the simplicity of the Canadian land tenurelegislation, there is no reason why any man should be swindled, as amatter of fact, a good many are. He was also irritated that he hadallowed himself to indulge in what he realized must have appeared apuerile threat. This was, of course, of no moment in itself, but he feltthat it showed how he was losing hold of the nice discretion he had, atleast, affected in England. Still, he meant exactly what he had said.

  During the greater portion of two years he had attempted a hopelesstask, and then, discovering his folly, resigned himself, and driftedidly, perilously near the brink of the long declivity which Englishmenof good upbringing not infrequently descend with astonishing swiftnessin that country, and for that, rightly or wrongly, he blamed the man whohad robbed him. Then the awakening had come, and he saw that while therewere many careers open to a man with six thousand dollars, or even halfof them, there was only strenuous physical toil for the man with none.He had attempted it, but proficiency in even the more brutal forms oflabor cannot be attained in a day, and he now looked back on a year ofhardship and effort which had left an indelible mark on him.

  It had been a season when there was little industrial enterprise, and hehad no friends, while the dollars he gained were earned for the mostpart by the strain of overtaxed muscles and bleeding hands. He hadtoiled up to his waist in snow-water at the mines, swung the shovelunder the lashing deluge driving a Government road over a big divide,hung from dizzy railroad trestles holding with fingers bruised by thehammer the spikes the craftsmen drove, and been taught all there is tolearn about exposure and fatigue. He had braced himself to bear it,though he had lived softly in England, but each time he crawled intodraughty tent or reeking shanty, wet through, with aching limbs, atnight, he remembered the man who had robbed him.

  It was, perhaps, not altogether astonishing that under such conditionsthe wrong done him should assume undue proportions, and that when aslipping hammer laid his knuckles bare he should charge the smart toDevine, and long for the reckoning. The man who had condemned him tothis life of toil had, he told himself, grown rich by theft, and hedwelt upon his injury until the memory of it possessed him. It was not,however, the physical hardship that troubled him most, but the thoughtof the opportunities he had lost, for since he had seen the girl withthe brown eyes they had assumed their due value. Devine had not onlytaken his dollars, but had driven him out from the society of those whohad been his equals, and made him one who could scarcely hope to meet awoman of refinement on friendly terms again. Coarse fare and a life ofbrutal toil were all that seemed left to him. There were, he knew, menin that country who had commenced with a very few dollars, and acquireda competence, but they were not young Englishmen brought up as he hadbeen.

  "You are the only man I've ever heard say anything good about any one inthe land business, and it does not amount to much at that," he said."Devine has been successful so far, but even gentlemen of his talentsare liable to make a mistake occasionally, and if ever he makes a bigone, it will probably go hardly with him. That, at least, is oneconsolation."

  Another man who had been standing near the bar sauntered towards them,cigar in hand. He was dressed in store clothing, and his hands were, asBrooke noticed, not those of a workman, though they seemed wiry andcapable. He had penetrating dark eyes, and the Western business man'slean, intent face, while Brooke would have guessed his age at a littleover thirty.

  "I don't mind admitting that I heard a little," he said. "Thoseland-agency fellows have a good deal to account for. You're not exactlystruck on Devine?"

  "No," said Brooke, drily. "I have no particular cause to be. Still, thatreally does not concern everybody."

  "Beat him out of six thousand dollars!" said one of his companions.

  The stranger laughed a little. "He has done me out of a good many more,but one has to take his chances in this country. You are working at theTomlinson mill?"

  "No," said Brooke. "I was turned out to-day."

  "Got no notion where to strike next?"

  "No."

  The stranger, who did not seem at all repulsed by his abruptness, lookedat him reflectively.

  "I heard they were wanting survey packers up at the Johnston Lake in thebush," he said. "A Government man's starting to run the line through tothe big range Thursday. If you took him this card up he might put youon."

  Brooke took the card, and a little tinge of color crept into his face.

  "I appreciate the kindness, but still, you see, you know nothingwhatever about me," he said.

  The stranger laughed. "I wouldn't worry. We're not particular in thiscountry. Go up, and show him the card if you feel like it. I've been ina tight place myself once or twice, and we'll take it as anintroduction. A good many people know me--you are Mr. Brooke?"

  Brooke admitted it, and after a few minutes' conversation, the stranger,who informed him that he had come there in the hope of meeting a man whodid not seem likely to put in an appearance now, moved away.

  "Thomas P. Saxton. What is he?" said Brooke to his companions, as heglanced at the card.

  "Puts through mine and sawmill deals," said one of the men. "I'd lightout for Johnston Lake right away, and if you have the dollars take thecars. Atlantic express is late to-night, waiting the Empress boat, andif you get off at Chumas, you'll only have 'bout twelve leagues to walk.I figure it will cost you four dollars."

  Brooke decided that it would be advisable to take the risk, and when hehad settled with his host and a storekeeper, found he had about sixdollars left. When he went out, one of the ranchers looked at the other.He was the one who had spoken least, and a quiet, observant man, fromOntario.

  "I'm not that sure it was good advice you gave him," he said.

  "No," said his companion.

  The other man appeared reflective. "I was watching Saxton, and he kindof
woke up when Brooke let out about Devine. Now, it seems to me, itwasn't without a reason he put him on to that survey."

  His companion laughed. "It doesn't count, anyway. The Government'sdollars are certain."

  "Well," said the Ontario man, drily, "if I had to give one of the pairany kind of a hold on me, I figure from what I've heard it would beDevine instead of Saxton."