A Damaged Reputation Page 4

  IV.

  SAXTON MAKES AN OFFER.

  It was raining as hard as it not infrequently does in the mountainprovince, and the deluge lashed the sombre pines that towered above thedripping camp, when Brooke stood in the entrance of the Surveyor's tent.He was wet to the skin, as well as weary, for he had walked most ofthirty miles that day over a very bad trail, and was but indifferentlysuccessful in his attempts to hide his anxiety. The Surveyor alsonoticed the grimness of his wet face, and dallied a moment with the cardhe held, for he had known what fatigue and short commons were in hisearly days.

  "I'm sorry I can't take you, but I've two more men than I've anyparticular use for already," he said at last. "I can't give you a placeto spread your blankets in to-night either, because the freighter didn'tbring up all our tents. Still, you might make Beasley's Hotel, andstrike Saxton's prospectors, if you head back over the divide. He has afew men up there opening up a silver lead."

  Brooke said nothing, and the Surveyor turned to his assistant as hemoved away. "It's rough on that man, and he seems kind of played out,"he said. "I can't quite figure, either, why Saxton sent him here, whenhe's putting men on at his mine. It seems to me I told him I was onlygoing to take men who'd packed for me before."

  In the meanwhile, Brooke stood still a few moments in the rain. He wasaching all over, and his wet boots galled him, while he was also veryhungry, and uncertain what to do. There was nothing to be gained bypushing on four leagues to Beasley's Hotel, even if he had been capableof doing it, which was not the case, because he had just then only twoor three copper coins worth ten cents in his pocket. It was, he knew,scarcely likely he would be turned out for that reason, but he had notyet come down to asking a stranger's charity. Supper, which he wouldhave been offered a share of, was also over, and there was not a ranchabout, only a dripping wilderness, for he had plodded on after theSurveyor from the lonely settlement at Johnston Lake.

  It was very enviously he watched two men piling fresh branches on acrackling fire. Darkness was not far away, and already a light shonethrough the wet canvas of the Surveyor's tent. A cheerful hum of voicescame out from the others, and a man was singing in one of them. Thesurvey packers had, at least, a makeshift shelter for the night, food insufficiency, and such warmth as the fires and their damp blankets mightsupply, while he had nowhere to lay his head. The smell of the stingingwood smoke was curiously alluring, and he felt as he glanced at theblack wall of bush which closed in upon the little camp that hishardihood was deserting him, and in another minute he would go back andoffer his services in return for food. Then his pride came to therescue, and, turning away abruptly, he plodded back into the bush, wherea bitter wind that came down from the snow blew the drips from the greatbranches into his face.

  He kept to the trail instinctively, though he did not know where he wasgoing, or why, when one place had as little to commend itself asanother, he blundered on at all, except that he was getting cold, untilthe creeping dark surprised him at a forking of the way. He knew thatthe path he had come by led through a burnt forest and thin willow bush,while great cedars shrouded the other, which apparently wound up avalley towards the heights above. They promised, at least, a little moreshelter than the willows, but that, he fancied, must be the trail thatcrossed the divide and it led into a desolation of rock and forest. Hehad very little hope of being offered employment at the mine theSurveyor had mentioned, and stood still for several minutes with therain beating into his face, while, though he did not know it then, agood deal depended on his decision. A little mist rolled out of thevalley, and it was growing very cold, while the dull roar of a snow-fedtorrent made the silence more impressive.

  Then, attracted solely by the sombre clustering of the cedars, whichpromised to keep off at least a little of the rain, he turned up thevalley with a shiver, and finally unrolled his one wet blanket under abig tree. There was an angle among its roots, which ran along theground, and, scooping a hollow in the withered sprays, he crawled intoit, and lay down with his back to the trunk. The roar of the riverseemed louder now, and he could hear a timber wolf howling far off onthe hillside. He was very cold and hungry, but his weariness blunted thesense of physical discomfort, though as yet his activity of mindremained, and he asked himself what he had gained by leaving the ranch,and could find no answer.

  Still, even then, he would not regret that he had broken away, for therewas in him an inherent obstinacy, and he would have struggled on at theranch had not the absence of funds precluded it, and consideration shownhim that it would be merely throwing his toil away. Life, it seemed, hadvery little to offer him, but now he had made the decision he wouldadhere to it, though he had arrived at the resolution in cold blood, forit was his reason only which had responded to the girl's influence, andas yet what was spiritual in him remained untouched. He would not liveas the Indians do, or sink into a sot. There were vague possibilitiesbefore him which, though this appeared most unlikely, might provethemselves facts, and the place he had been born to in England might yetbe his. That was why he would not sell his birthright for a mess ofstringy venison, and the deleterious whisky sold at the settlement,which seemed to him a most unfair price. Still, he went no further, evenwhen he thought of the girl, which he did with dispassionate admiration.

  Worn-out as he was, he slept, and awakened in the grey dawn almost unfitto rise. There was a distressful pain in his hip-joints, which those whosleep in the open are acquainted with, and at the first few steps hetook his face went awry, but his physical nature demanded warmth andfood, and there was only one way of obtaining it before the life wentout of him. Whatever effort it cost him, he must reach the mine. He setout for it, limping, while the sharp gravel rolled under his bleedingfeet as he floundered up the climbing trail. It seemed to lead upwardsfor ever between endless colonnades of towering trunks, and when at lastpine and cedar had been left behind, there was slippery rock smoothed bysliding snow to be clambered over.

  Still, reeling and gasping, he held on, and it was afternoon, and he hadeaten nothing for close on thirty hours, when a filmy trail of smokethat drifted faintly blue athwart the climbing pines beneath him caughthis eye. He braced himself for the effort to reach it, and went downwith loose, uneven strides, smashing through sal-sal and barberry whenhe reached the bush again. The fern met above his head, there were mazesof fallen trunks to be scrambled through, and he tore the soaken jeanthat clung about him to rags in his haste. Still, he had learned totravel straight in the bush, and at last he staggered into sight of themine.

  There was a little scar on the hillside, an iron shanty, a few soakedtents and shelters of bark, but the ringing clink of the drills vibratedabout them, and a most welcome smell of wood smoke came up to him with amurmur of voices. Brooke heard them faintly, and did not stop until ahandful of men clustered about him, while, as he blinked at them, one,who appeared different from the others, pushed his way through thegroup.

  "You seem considerably used up," he said.

  "I am," said Brooke, hoarsely, "I'm almost starving."

  It occurred to him that the man's voice ought to be familiar, but it wasa few moments before he recognized him as the one who had sent him onthe useless journey after the Surveyor.

  "Then come right along. It's not quite supper-time, but there's food inthe camp," he said.

  Brooke went with him to the shanty, where he fell against a chair, andfound it difficult to straighten himself when he picked it up. Saxton,so far as he could remember, asked no questions, but smiled at himreassuringly while he explained, somewhat incoherently, what had broughthim there, until a man appeared with a big tray. Then Brooke atestrenuously.

  "Some folks have a notion that one can kill himself by getting throughtoo much at once when he's 'most starved," said Saxton. "I never foundit work out that way in this country."

  "Were you ever almost starved?" said Brooke, who felt the life comingback to him, with no great show of interest.

  "Oh, yes," said Saxton, drily. "Twice, at least. I was
three dayswithout food the last time. One has to take his chances in the ranges,and you don't pick up dollars without trouble anywhere. Still, we'lltalk of that afterwards. Had enough?"

  Brooke said he fancied he had, and Saxton hammered upon the iron roof ofthe shanty until a man appeared.

  "Give him a pair of blankets, Ike. He can sleep in the lean-to," hesaid.

  Brooke went with the man, vacantly, and in another few minutes foundhimself lying in dry blankets on a couch of springy twigs. He wassensible that it was delightfully warm, but he could not remember how hegot there, and was wondering why the rain no longer lashed his face,when sleep came to him.

  It was next morning when he was awakened by the roar of a blastingcharge, and lay still with an unusual sense of comfort until the silencethat followed it was broken by the clinking of the drills. Then he rosestiffly, and put on his clothes, which he found had been dried, and wasinformed by a man who appeared while he was doing it that his breakfastwas waiting. Brooke wondered a little at this, for he knew that it waspast the usual hour, but he made an excellent meal, and then, beingshown into a compartment of the little galvanized iron shanty, foundSaxton sitting at a table. The latter now wore long boots and jean, andthere were pieces of discolored stone strewn about in front of him.

  He looked up with a little nod as Brooke came in. "Feeling quiteyourself again?" he said.

  "Yes," said Brooke, "thanks to the way your men have treated me. Thisis, of course, a hospitable country, but I may admit that I couldscarcely have expected to be so well looked after by one I hadn't theslightest claim upon."

  "And you almost wondered what he did it for?"

  Brooke was a trifle astonished, for this certainly expressed histhoughts, but he was in no way disconcerted, and he laughed.

  "I should, at least, never have ventured to suggest that anything exceptgood-nature influenced you," he said.

  "Still, you felt it? Well, you were considerably used up when you camein, and, as I sent you to the Surveyor, who didn't seem to have any usefor you, I felt myself responsible. That appears sufficient?"

  Now, Brooke had mixed with men of a good many different stations, and hewas observant, and, as might have been expected, by no means diffident.

  "Since you ask, I scarcely think it does," he said.

  Saxton laughed. "Take a cigar. That's the kind of talk I like. We'llcome to the point right away."

  Brooke lighted a cigar, and found it good. "Thanks. I'm willing tolisten as long as appears necessary," he said.

  "You have a kind of grievance against Devine?"

  "I have. According to my notion of ethics, he owes me six thousanddollars, and I shall not be quite content until I get them out of him,although that may never happen. I feel just now that it would please meespecially to make him smart as well, which I quite realize, isunnecessary folly."

  The Canadian nodded, and shook the ash from his cigar. "Exactly," hesaid. "A man with sense keeps his eye on the dollars, and leaves out thesentiment. It's quite apt to get in his way and trip him up. Well,suppose I could give you a chance of getting those dollars back?"

  "I should be very much inclined to take it. Still, presumably, you donot mean to do it out of pure good-nature?"

  "No, sir," said Saxton, drily. "I'm here to make dollars. That has beenmy object since I struck out for myself at fourteen, and I've piledquite a few of them together. I'd have had more only that wherever Iplan a nice little venture in mines or land up and down this province, Irun up against Devine. That's quite straight, isn't it?"

  "I fancy it is. You are suggesting community of interest? Still, Iscarcely realize how a man with empty pockets could be of very much useto you."

  "I have a kind of notion that you could be if it suited you. I want aman with grit in him, who has had a good education, and could, if it wasnecessary, mix on equal terms with the folks in the cities."

  "One would fancy there were a good many men of that kind in Canada."

  Saxton appeared reflective. "Oh, yes," he said, drily. "The trouble isthat most of them have got something better to do, and I can't think ofone who has any special reason for wanting to get even with Devine."

  "That means the work you have in view would scarcely suit a man who wasprosperous, or likely to be fastidious?"

  "No," said Saxton, simply. "I don't quite think it would. Still, I'veseen enough to show me that you can take the sensible point of view. Weboth want dollars, and I can't afford to be particular. I'm not sure youcan, either."

  Brooke sat silent awhile. He could, at least, appreciate the Canadian'scandor, while events had rubbed the sentiment he had once had plenty ofout of him, and left him a somewhat hard and bitter man. The woman hebelieved in had used him very badly, and the first man he trusted inCanada had plundered him. Brooke was, unfortunately, young when he wascalled upon to face the double treachery, and had generalized too freelyfrom too limited premises. He felt that in all society there must be aconflict between the men who had all to gain and those who had anythingworth keeping, and sentiment, it seemed, was out of place in thatstruggle.

  "As you observed, I can't afford to be too particular," he said. "Still,it is quite possible I might not be prepared to go quite so far as youwould wish me."

  The Canadian laughed. "I'll take my chances. Nobody can bring up anyvery low-down game against me. Well, are you open to consider my offer?"

  "You haven't exactly made one yet."

  "Then we'll fix the terms. Until one of us gives the other notice thathe lets up on this agreement, you will do just what I tell you. Pay willbe about the usual thing for whatever you're set to do. It would bereasonably high if I put you on to anything in the cities."

  "Is that likely?"

  "I've a notion that we might get you into a place where you could watchDevine's game for me. I want to feel quite sure of it before I take anychances with that kind of man. If I struck him for anything worth while,you would have a share."

  Brooke's face flushed just a trifle, and again he sat silent a moment ortwo. Then he laughed somewhat curiously.

  "Well," he said, "I suppose there are no other means, and the man robbedme."

  Saxton smiled. "If we pull off the deal I'm figuring on, your sharemight 'most work up to those six thousand dollars. They're yours."

  Brooke realized that it was a clever man he was dealing with, but in hispresent state of mind the somewhat vague arrangement commended itself tohim. He was, he decided, warranted in getting his six thousand dollarsback by any means that were open to him. More he did not want, for hestill retained in a slight degree the notions instilled into him inEngland, which had, however, since he was seldom able to indulge inthem, not tended to make him happier.

  "There is a point you don't seem to have grasped," he said. "Since I amnot to be particular, can't you conceive that it would not be pleasantfor you if Devine went one better?"

  Saxton laughed. "I've met quite a few Englishmen--of yourkind--already," he said. "That's why I feel that when you've taken mydollars you're not going to go back on me without giving me warning.Besides, Devine would be considerably more likely to fix you up in quiteanother way. Now, I want an answer. Is it a deal?"

  "It is," said Brooke, who, in spite of the fashion in which he hadexpressed himself during the last few minutes, felt a slight warmth inhis face. Though he could not afford to be particular, there was oneaspect of the arrangement which did not commend itself to him.

  Saxton nodded. "Then, as you'll want to know a little about mining,we'll put you on now, helping the drillers, at $2.50 a day. You'll getconsiderably more by-and-by. Take this little treatise on the mineralsof the province, and keep it by you."