CHAPTER XIV
A JOURNEY BEGINS
It was a five-hour trip. He dined aboard the train with little desirefor food, the July evening being oppressive, and a thunder stormbrewing over the Hudson. It burst in the vicinity of Fishkill with alively display of lightning, deluging the Catskills with rain. Andwhen he changed to a train on the Mohawk division the cooler air wasagreeably noticeable.
He changed trains again at Orangeville, and here the night breeze wasdelightful and the scent of rain-soaked meadows came through the opencar window.
It was nearly ten o'clock and already, ahead, he caught sight of thelights of Neeland's Mills. Always the homecoming was a keen delight tohim; and now, as he stepped off the train, the old familiar odourswere in his nostrils--the unique composite perfume of the native placewhich never can be duplicated elsewhere.
All the sweet and aromatic and homely smells of earth and land andwater came to him with his first deep-drawn breath. The rank growth ofwild flowers and weeds were part of it--the flat atmosphere of themill pond, always redolent of water weed and lily pads, tinctured it;distant fields of buckwheat added heavier perfume.
Neither in the quaint brick feed mill nor in the lumber mill werethere any lights, but in his own home, almost buried among tall treesand vines, the light streamed from the sitting-room windows.
From the dark yard two or three dogs barked at him, then barked againin a different key, voicing an excited welcome; and he opened thepicket gate and went up the path surrounded by demonstrative settersand pointers, leaping and wagging about him and making a vast amountof noise on the vine-covered verandah as he opened the door, lethimself into the house, and shut them out.
"Hello, dad!" he said, crossing swiftly to where his father sat by thereading lamp.
Their powerful grip lingered. Old Dick Neeland, ruddy, white-haired,straight as a pine, stood up in his old slippers and quilted smokingcoat, his brier pipe poised in his left hand.
"Splendid, Jim. I've been thinking about you this evening." He mighthave added that there were few moments when his son was not in histhoughts.
"Are you all right, dad?"
"Absolutely. You are, too, I see."
They seated themselves.
"Hungry, Jim?"
"No; I dined aboard."
"You didn't telegraph me."
"No; I came at short notice."
"Can't you stay?"
"Dad, I have a drawing-room reserved for the midnight tonight, and Iam sailing on the _Volhynia_ tomorrow at nine in the morning!"
"God bless me! Why, Jim?"
"Dad, I'll tell you all I know about it."
His father sat with brier pipe suspended and keen blue eyes fixed onhis son, while the son told everything he knew about the reason forhis flying trip to Paris.
"You see how it is, don't you, dad?" he ended. "The Princess has beena good and loyal friend to me. She has used her influence; I have met,through her, the people I ought to know, and they have given me workto do. I'm in her debt; I'm under real obligation to her. And I've gotto go, that's all."
Old Dick Neeland's clear eyes of a sportsman continued to study hisson's face.
"Yes, you've got to go," he said. He smoked for a few moments, then:"What the devil does it mean, anyway? Have you any notion, Jim?"
"No, I haven't. There seems to be some military papers in this boxthat is mentioned. Evidently they are of value to somebody. Evidentlyother people have got wind of that fact and desire to obtain them forthemselves. It almost seems as though something is brewing overthere--trouble of some sort between Germany and some other nation. ButI haven't heard of anything."
His father continued to smoke for a while, then:
"There _is_ something brewing over there, Jim."
"I hadn't heard," repeated the young man.
"I haven't either, directly. But in my business some unusual ordershave come through--from abroad. Both France and Germany have beenmaking inquiries through agents in regard to shipments of grain andfeed and lumber. I've heard of several very heavy rush orders."
"What on earth could cause war?"
"I can't see, Jim. Of course Austria's attitude toward Servia is verysullen. But outside of that I can see no trouble threatening.
"And yet, the Gayfield woollen mill has just received an enormousorder for socks and underwear from the French Government. They'rerunning all night now. And another thing struck me: there has been aman in this section buying horses for the British Government. Ofcourse it's done now and then, but, taking this incident with theothers which have come to my personal knowledge, it would seem asthough something were brewing over in Europe."
Jim's perplexed eyes rested on his father; he shook his youthful headslightly:
"I can't see why," he said. "But if it's to be France and Germanyagain, why my sympathy is entirely for France."
"Naturally," nodded his father.
Their Irish ancestors had fought for Bonaparte, and for the Bourbonsbefore him. And, cursed with cousins, like all Irish, they were awareof plenty of Neelands in France who spoke no English.
Jim rose, glanced at his watch:
"Dad, I'll just be running over to Brookhollow to get that box. Ihaven't such a lot of time, if I'm to catch the midnight train atOrangeville."
"I should say you hadn't," said his father.
He was disappointed, but he smiled as he exchanged a handclasp withhis only son.
"You're coming right back from Paris?"
"Next steamer. I've a lot of work on hand, thank goodness! But thatonly puts me under heavier obligations to the Princess Mistchenka."
"Yes, I suppose so. Anything but ingratitude, Jim. It's the vilestvice of 'em all. They say it's in the Irish blood--ingratitude. Theymust never prove it by a Neeland. Well, my boy--I'm not lonesome, youunderstand; busy men have no time to be lonesome--but run up, willyou, when you get back?"
"You bet I will."
"I'll show you a brace of promising pups. They stand rabbits, still,but they won't when the season is over."
"Blue Bird's pups?"
"Yes. They take after her."
"Fine! I'll be back for the shooting, anyway. Many broods thisseason?"
"A fair number. It was not too wet."
For a moment they lingered, smiling at each other, then Jim gave hisfather's hand a quick shake, picked up his suitcase, turned.
"I'll take the runabout, dad. Someone from the Orangeville garage willbring it over in the morning."
He went out, pushed his way among the leaping dogs to the garage,threw open the doors, and turned on the electric light.
A slim and trim Snapper runabout stood glistening beside a larger carand two automobile trucks. He exchanged his straw hat for a cap;placed hat and suitcase in the boot; picked up a flash light from thework-table, and put it into his pocket, cranked the Snapper, jumpedin, ran it to the service entrance, where his father stood ready tocheck the dogs and close the gates after him.
"Good-bye, dad!" he called out gaily.
"Good-bye, my son."
The next instant he was speeding through the starry darkness,following the dazzling path blazed out for him by his headlights.