A Damaged Reputation Page 6

  VI.

  AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

  It was late at night, and raining hard, when a line of dripping mulesstood waiting beneath the pines that crowded in upon the workings of theElktail mine. A few lights blinked among the log-sheds that clusteredround the mouth of the rift in the steep hillside, and a warm wind thatdrove the deluge before it came wailing out of the blackness of thevalley beneath them. The mine was not a big one, but it was believedthat it paid Thomas P. Saxton and his friends tolerably well, in spiteof the heavy cost of transport to the nearest smelter. A somewhatvarying vein of galena, which is silver-lead, was worked there, andSaxton had, on several occasions, declined an offer to buy it, made onbehalf of a company.

  On the night in question he stood in the doorway of one of the shedswith Brooke, for whom the Surveyor had no more work just then, besidehim. Brooke wore long boots and a big rubber coat, on whose drippingsurface the light of the lantern Saxton held flickered. Here and there aman was dimly visible beside the mules, but beyond them impenetrabledarkness closed in.

  "It's a wicked kind of night," said Saxton, who, Brooke fancied,nevertheless, appeared quite content with it. "You know what you've gotto do?"

  "Yes," said Brooke, a trifle drily, "you have given me tolerablycomplete instructions once or twice already. The ore is to be deliveredto Allonby at the Dayspring mine not later than to-morrow night, and I'mto be contented with his verbal acknowledgment. The getting it acrossthe river will, I fancy, be the difficulty, especially as I'm to sendhalf the teamsters back before we reach it."

  "Still, you have got to send them back," said Saxton. "Jake and Tom willgo on, and when you have crossed the ford that will be two mules foreach of you. Not one of the other men must come within a mile of thetrail forking. It's part of our bargain that you're to do just what Itell you."

  Brooke laughed a little. "I'm not going to grumble very much at leadingtwo mules. I have done a good deal harder work quite frequently."

  "You'll find it tough enough by the time you're through. You must be inat the mine by daylight the day after to-morrow, anyway. Allonby will besitting up waiting for you."

  Brooke said nothing further, but went out into the rain, calling to oneof the teamsters, and the mules were got under way. The trail that ledto the Elktail mine sloped steep as a roof just there, and was slipperywith rain and mire, but the mules went down it as no other loaded beastscould have done, feeling their way foot by foot, or glissading on allfour hoofs for yards together. The men made little attempt to guidethem, for a mule is opinionated by nature, and when it cannot find itsown way up or down any ascent it is seldom worth while for its driver toendeavor to show it one.

  When they reached the level, or rather the depth of the hollow, for oflevel, in the usual sense of the word, there is none in that country,Brooke, who was then cumbered with no bridle, turned and looked round.The lights of the Elktail had faded among the pines, and there was onlyblack darkness about him. Here and there he could discern the ghostlyoutline of a towering trunk a little more solid than the night it roseagainst, and he could hear the men and beasts floundering and splashingin front of him. A deep reverberating sound rose out of the obscuritybeneath, and he knew it to be the roar of a torrent in a deep-sunkgully, while now and then a diminishing rattle suggested that ahundred-weight or so of water-loosened gravel had slipped down into thechasm from the perilous trail.

  It was a difficult road to travel by daylight, and, naturally,considerably worse at night, while Brooke had already wondered whySaxton had not sent off the ore earlier. That, however, was not hisbusiness, and, shaking the rain from his dripping hat, he plodded on.It was still two or three hours before daylight when they reached awider and smoother trail, and he sent away three of the men.

  "It's a tolerably good road now, and Saxton wants you at the mine," hesaid.

  One of the teamsters who were remaining laughed ironically. "I'm blamedif I ever heard the dip down to the long ford called a good trailbefore!"

  "Well," said one of the others, "what in the name of thunder are yougoing that way for?"

  Brooke, who was standing close by, fancied that a man who had not spokenkicked his loquacious comrade viciously.

  "Tom never does know where he's going. It's the mule that does thethinking for both of them," he said.

  There was a little hoarse laughter, and those who were going backvanished into the deluge, while Brooke, who took a bridle now, went onwith two men again. It was darker than ever, for great fir branches metoverhead just there, but they at least kept off a little of the rain,and he groped onward, splashing in the mire, until the roar of a riverthrobbed across the forest as the night was wearing through. Then theleading teamster pulled up his mules.

  "It's a nasty ford in daylight, and she'll be swirling over itwaist-deep and more just now," he said. "Still, we've got to take ourchances of getting through."

  "It will be light in two hours," said Brooke, suggestively. "Of course,you know better than I do whether we could make the wasted time up."

  The man laughed curiously. "I guess we could, but there's two concernedbush ranchers just started their chopping over yonder. I had a kind ofnotion the boss would have told you that."

  It commenced to dawn on Brooke that Saxton had a reason for not desiringthat everybody should know he was sending ore away, but he was too wetto concern himself about the question then.

  "I don't think he did," he said. "Anyway, if we have to go through inthe dark there's nothing to be gained by waiting here."

  They went on, down what appeared to be the side of a bottomless gully,with the stones and soil slipping away from under them, while half-seentrees flitted up out of the obscurity. Then they reached the bed of astream, and proceeded along it, splashing and stumbling amidst theboulders. In the meanwhile the roar of the river was growing steadilylouder, and when they stopped again they could hear the clamor of theinvisible flood close in front of them. It came out of the rain anddarkness, hoarse and terrifying, but while the wind drove the delugeinto his face Brooke could see nothing beyond dim, dripping trees.

  "Well," said the leading teamster, "I have struck a nicer job than thisone, but it has got to be done. Tether the spare mule, each of you, andthen get in behind me."

  Brooke had no diffidence about taking the last place in the line. Thoughhe was in charge of the pack train, it was evident that the men knew agood deal more about that ford than he did, and he had no particulardesire to make himself responsible for a disaster. Then there was ascrambling and splashing, and he found himself suddenly waist-deep inthe river. He was, however, tolerably accustomed to a ford, and thoughthe mule he led objected strenuously to entering the water, it proceededwith that beast's usual sagacity once it was in. He endeavored to keepits head a trifle up-stream, and as close behind his two companions ashe could, but apart from that he left the beast to the guidance of itsown acumen, for he knew that it is seldom the sagacious mule takes anyrisk that can be avoided.

  Twice, at least, his feet were swept from under him, and once he losthis grip on the bridle, and simultaneously all sight of his companionsand the beast he led. Then he felt unpleasantly lonely as he stood morethan waist-deep in the noisy flood, but after a few yards floundering hefound the mule again, and at last scrambled up, breathless and gasping,beneath the pines on the farther side.

  "Hit it square that time!" said the teamster. "I'm not quite so sure asI'd like to be we can do it again."

  They went back through the river for the rest of the mules, and werehalf-way across on the return journey when the leader shouted to themthat they should stop. The water seemed deeper than it had been on theprevious occasion, and Brooke found it difficult to keep his footing atall as he peered into the darkness. The rain had ceased, but there waslittle visible beyond the faint whiteness of sliding froth, and ashadowy blur of trees on either shore. He could see nothing that mightserve any one as guide, and the leading teamster was standing still,apparently in a state of uncertainty, with dim strea
ks of frothstreaming past him.

  "I'm 'most afraid we're too far down-stream," he said. "Anyway, we can'tstay here. Head the beasts up a little."

  His voice reached the others brokenly through the roar of the torrent,and with a pull at the bridle Brooke turned his face up-stream. He couldhear the rest splashing in front of him until his mule lost his footing,and he sank suddenly up to the breast. Then there was a shout, and astruggling beast swept down on him with the swing of an eddy. Brookewent down, head under, and one of the teamsters appeared to be shoutinginstructions to him when he came up again. He had not the faintestnotion of what they were, and swung round with the eddy until he wasdriven violently against a boulder. There was a mule close beside him,and he contrived to grasp the bridle, and found to his astonishment thathe could now stand upright without difficulty. Exactly where the otherswere, or where the opposite side of the river lay, he did not at themoment know; but the mule appeared to be floundering on with a definitepurpose, and he went with it, until they scrambled up the bank, and hefound two other men and one beast already there.

  "One of them's gone," said the teamster. "There'll be trouble when we goback, but I guess it can't be helped. Anyway, there's 'most a fathom inthe deep below the ford, and no mule would do much swimming with thatload."

  "A fathom's quite enough to cover the bags up so nobody's going to findthem," said the other man.

  Brooke did not quite understand why, since the ore was valuable, thisfact should afford the teamster the consolation it apparently did, buthe was not in a mood to consider that point just then, and all hisattention was occupied when they proceeded again. The trail that climbedthe rise was wet and steep, and seemed to consist largely of boulders,into which he blundered with unpleasant frequency. It was but littlebetter when they once more plunged into the forest, for the way wasscarcely two feet wide, and wound round and through thickets of thornand fern which, when he brushed against it, further saturated him. Hewas wet enough already, but the water which remained any time in hisclothing got slowly warm. It also dipped into splashy hollows andclimbed loose gravel banks, while once a hoarse shout from the leader,which changed to a howl of pain, was followed by a stoppage. The man hadstumbled into a clump of the horrible Devil's club thorn, than whichnothing that grows anywhere is more unpleasant when it gets a good holdon human flesh.

  He was cut loose, and his objurgations mingled with the soft splashingfrom the branches as they blundered on until a faint grey light filtereddown, and the firs they passed beneath grew into definite form. It hadalso become unpleasantly chilly, and a thin, clammy mist rose like steamfrom every hollow. Then the trees grew thinner as they climbed steadily,until at last Brooke could see the black hill shoulders rise out of thetrails of mist, and the leader pulled up his mules.

  "We've done 'bout enough for one spell, and nobody's going to see ushere," he said. "Get a fire started. I'm emptier'n a drum."

  Brooke, who knew where to find the resinous knots, was glad to help, andsoon a great fire blazed upon a shelf of rock. The mules were tetheredand forage given them, and the men lay steaming about the blaze untilthe breakfast of flapjacks, canned stuff, and green tea was ready. Itwas despatched in ten minutes, and rolling his half-dried blanket abouthim, Brooke lay down to sleep. He had a strip of very damp rock formattress, and a bag of ore for pillow, but he had grown accustomed to ahard bed in the bush, and had scarcely laid his head down when slumbercame to him. Food and sleep, he had discovered, were things to beappreciated, for it was not always that he was able to obtain very muchof either. His stay in the Canadian cities had been brief, and the nighthe had spent with the brown-eyed girl at the opera-house had alreadydrifted back into the past.

  It was raining when he awakened, and they once more took the trail,while during what was left of the day they plodded among the bouldersbeside frothing streams, crept through shadowy forests, and climbed overtreacherous slopes of gravel and slippery rock outcrop round the greathill shoulders above. Everywhere the cold gleam of snow met the eye,save when the mists that clung in ragged wisps about the climbing pinesrolled together and blotted all the vista out. The smell of fir andbalsam filled every hollow, and the song of the rivers rang through adead stillness that even to Brooke, who was accustomed to it, wascuriously impressive.

  There was no sign of man anywhere, save for the smear of trampled mireor hoof-scattered gravel, and no sound that was made by any creature ofthe forest in all the primeval solitude. For no very evident reason,tracts of that wild country remain a desolation of grand and almostoverwhelming beauty, and in such places even the bushman speaks softly,or plods on faster, as though anxious to escape from them, in wonderingsilence. The teamsters, however, appeared by no means displeased at thesolitude, and Brooke was not in a condition to be receptive of more thanphysical impressions. His long boots were full of water, his clotheswere soaked, the sliding gravel had galled his feet, and his limbsached. The beasts were also flagging, for their loads were heavy, andthe patter of their hoofs rose with a slower beat through the rain,while the teamsters said nothing save when they urged them on.

  They rested again for an hour and lighted another fire, and afterwardsfound the trail smoother, but evening was closing in when, scramblingdown from a hill shoulder, they came upon a winding valley. It wasfilled with dusky cedars, and the mist rolled out of it, but theteamsters quickened their pace a trifle, and smote the lagging beasts.Then, where the trees were thinner, Brooke saw a faint smear of vapor alittle bluer than the mist drawn out across the ragged pines above him,and one of his companions laughed.

  "Well," he said, "I guess we're there at last, and if Boss Allonby isn'ton the jump you'll be putting away your supper, and as much whisky asyou've any use for inside an hour."

  "Is it a complaint he's often troubled with?" said Brooke.

  The teamster grinned. "He has it 'bout once a fortnight--when the packbeasts from the settlement come in. It lasts two days, in the usual way,and on the third one every boy about the mine looks out for him."

  Brooke asked no more questions, though he hoped that several days hadelapsed since the supplies from the settlement had come up, and inanother few minutes they plodded into sight of the mine. The workingsappeared to consist of a heap of debris and a big windlass, but here andthere a crazy log hut stood amidst the pines which crowded in serriedranks upon the narrow strip of clearing. The door of the largest shantystood open, and the shadowy figure of a man appeared in it.

  "Good-evening, boys," he said. "You have brought the ore and Saxton'sman along?"

  One of the teamsters said they had, and turned to Brooke with a laugh.

  "You're not going to have any trouble to-night," he said. "He's cominground again, and when he feels like it, there's nobody can be morehigh-toned polite!"