CHAPTER XIII
BETTY DECIDES
Two nights later Dave was waiting in the tally room for his guests toarrive. The place was just a corner partitioned off from the millingfloor. It was here the foreman kept account of the day's work--a bareroom, small, and hardly worth the name of "office." Yet there was workenough done in it to satisfy the most exacting master.
The master of the mills had taken up a position in the narrow doorway,in full view of the whole floor, and was watching the sawyer on No. 1.It was Mansell. He beheld with delight the wonderful skill with whichthe man handled the giant logs as they creaked and groaned along overthe rollers. He appeared to be sober, too. His deliberate movements,timed to the fraction of a second, were sufficient evidence of this. Hefelt glad that he had taken him on his time-sheet. Every really skilfulsawyer was of inestimable value at the moment, and, after all, thisman's failing was one pretty common to all good lumbermen.
Dawson came up, and Dave nodded in the sawyer's direction.
"Working good," he observed with satisfaction.
"Too good to last, if I know anything," grumbled the foreman. "He'llget breakin' out, an then---- I've a mind to set him on a 'buzz-saw'.These big saws won't stand for tricks if he happens to git around witha 'jag' on."
"You can't put a first-class sawyer on to a 'buzzer,'" said Davedecisively. "It's tantamount to telling him he doesn't know his work.No, keep him where he is. If he 'signs' in with a souse on, push himout till he's sober. But so long as he's right let him work where heis."
"Guess you're 'boss' o' this lay-out," grumbled the foreman.
"Just so."
Then, as though the matter had no further concern for him, Dawsonchanged the subject.
"There's twenty 'jacks' scheduled by to-night's mail," he said, asthough speaking of some dry-goods instead of a human freight.
"They're for the hills to-night. Mr. Chepstow's promised to go up anddose the boys for their fever. I'm putting it to him to-night. He'lltake 'em with him. By the way, I'm expecting the parson and Miss Bettyalong directly. They want to get a look at this." He waved an arm inthe direction of the grinding rollers. "They want to see it--busy."
Dawson was less interested in the visitors.
"I see 'em as I come up," he said indifferently. "Looked like they'dbeen around your office."
Dave turned on him sharply.
"Go down and bring 'em along up. And say--get things ready for sendingup to the camps to-night. Parson'll have my buckboard and the blackteam. He's got to travel quick. They can come right away back when he'sgot there. See he's got plenty of bedding and rations. Load it downgood. There's a case of medical supplies in my office. That goes withhim. Then you'll get three 'democrats' from Mulloc's livery barn forthe boys. See they've got plenty of grub too."
When Dave gave sharp orders, Dawson simply listened and obeyed. Heunderstood his employer, and never ventured criticism at such times. Hehurried away now to give the necessary orders, and then went on to findthe visitors.
Directly he had gone the master of the mills moved over to the sawyeron No. 1.
"You haven't forgotten your craft, Mansell," he said pleasantly, hisdeep voice carrying, clarion-like, distinctly over the din of thesawing-floor.
"Would you fergit how t' eat, boss?" the man inquired surlily,measuring an oncoming log keenly with his eye. He bore down on a"jolting" lever and turned the log into a fresh position. Then he leantforward and tipped the end of it with chalk. Hand and eye workedmechanically together. He knew to a hairsbreadth just where thetrimming blade should strike the log to get the maximum square oftimber.
Dave shook his head.
"It would take some forgetting," he said, with a smile. "You seethere's always a stomach to remind you."
The log was passing, and the man had a moment's breathing space whileit traveled to the fangs of the rushing saw. He looked up with a pairof dark, brooding eyes in which shone a peculiarly offensive light.
"Jest so," he vouchsafed. "I learned this when I learned t' eat, an'it's filled my belly that long, fi' year ain't like to set mefergittin'."
He turned to the rollers and watched the log. He saw it hit the teethof the saw plumb on his chalk mark.
"An awful waste out of a lumberman's life, that five years," Dave wenton, when the crucial moment had passed. "That mill would have beendoing well now, and--and you were foreman."
He was looking straight into the fellow's mean face. He noted theterrible inroads drink had made upon it, the sunken eyes, the pendulouslip, the lines of dissipation in deep furrows round his mouth. Hepitied him from the bottom of his heart, but allowed no softness ofexpression.
"Say," exclaimed the sawyer, with a vicious snap, "when I'm lumberin' Iain't got time fer rememberin' anything else--which is a heap good. Idon't guess it's good for any one buttin' in when the logs are rollin'.Guess that log's comin' right back."
The man's unnecessary insolence was a little staggering. Yet Daverather liked him for it. The independence of the sawyer's spiritappealed to him. He really had no right to criticize Mansell's past, tostir up an unpleasant memory for him.
He knew his men, and he realized that he had overstepped his rights inthe matter. He was simply their employer. It was for him to giveorders, and for them to obey. In all else he must take them as man andman. He felt now that there was nothing more for him to say, so whilethe sawyer clambered over to the return rollers, ready for the secondjourney of the log, he walked thoughtfully back to his office.
At that moment his visitors appeared, escorted by Dawson. The foremanwas piloting them with all the air of a guide and the pride of hisassociation with the mills. Betty was walking beside him, and whiletaking in the wonderful scene that opened out before her, she waslistening to the conversation of the two men.
The foreman had taken upon himself to tell the parson of the orders hehad received for the night journey, and the details of the preparationsbeing made for it. The news came to Chepstow unpleasantly, yet heunderstood that its urgency must be great, or Dave would never havedecided upon so sudden a journey. He was a little put out, but quiteready to help his friend.
It was the first Betty had heard of it. She was astonished andresentful. She had heard that there was fever up in the hills, but heruncle had told her nothing of Dave's request to him. Therefore, beforegreetings had been exchanged, and almost before the door of the tallyroom had closed upon the departing foreman, she opened a volley ofquestions upon him.
"What's this about uncle going up to the hills to-night, Dave?" shedemanded. "Why has it been kept secret? Why so sudden? Why to-night?"
Her inquiring glance turned from one to the other.
Dave made no hurry to reply. He was watching the play of the strong,eager young face. The girl's directness appealed to him even more thanher beauty. To-night she looked very pretty in a black clinging gownwhich made her look almost fragile. She seemed so slight, so delicate,yet her whole manner had such reserve of virile force. He thought now,as he had often thought before, she possessed a brain much too big andkeen for her body, yet withal so essentially womanly as to be somethingto marvel at.
The girl became impatient.
"Why wasn't I told? For goodness' sake don't stand there staring, Dave."
"There's no secrecy exactly, Betty," the lumberman said, "that is,except from the folks in the village. You see, anything likely to checkour work, such as fever up in the camps, is liable to set them worryingand talking. We didn't mean to keep it from you----"
"Yes, yes," the girl broke in. "But why this hurry? Why to-night?"
And so she forced Dave into a full explanation, which alone wouldsatisfy her. At the end of it she turned to her uncle, who had stoodquietly by enjoying the manner in which she dictated her will upon themaster of the mills.
"It's an awful shame you've got to go, uncle, especially while you'vegot all the new church affairs upon your hands. But I quite see Dave'sright, and we must get the boys well as quickly as possible. We'
ve gotto remember that these mills are not only Dave's. They also belong toMalkern--one might almost say to the people of this valley. It is theship, and--and we are its freight. So we start at midnight. Does auntieknow?"
Instantly two pairs of questioning eyes were turned upon her. Thatcoupling of herself with her uncle in the matter had not escaped them.
"Your Aunt Mary knows I am going some time. But she hasn't heard thelatest development, my dear," her uncle said. "But--but you said 'we'just now?"
Dave understood. He knew what was coming. But then he understood Bettyas did no one else. He smiled.
"Of course I said 'we,'" Betty exclaimed, with a laugh which onlyserved to cloak the resolve that lay behind it. "You are not goingalone. Besides, you can physic people well enough, uncle dear, but youcan't nurse them worth--worth a cent. School's all right, and can geton without me for a while. Well?" She smiled quickly from one to theother. "Well, we're ready, aren't we? We can't let this interfere withour view of the mill."
Her uncle shook his head.
"You can't go up there, Betty," he said seriously. "You can't go aboutamongst those men. They're good fellows. They're men. But----" helooked over at Dave as though seeking support, a thing he rarelyneeded. But he was dealing with Betty now, and where she was concerned,there were times when he felt that a little support might be welcome.
Dave promptly added his voice in support of his friend's protest.
"You can't go, little Betty," he said. "You can't, little girl," hereiterated, shaking his shaggy head. "You think you know thelumber-jacks, and I'll allow you know them a lot. But you don't know'em up in those camps. They're wild men. They're just as savage aswolves, and foolish as babes. They're just great big baby men, and asirresponsible as half-witted schoolboys. I give you my word I can't letyou go up. I know how you want to help us out. I know your big heart.And I know still more what a help you'd be----"
"And that's just why I'm going," Betty snapped him up. That oneunfortunate remark undid all the impression his appeal might otherwisehave made. And as the two men realized the finality of her tone, theyunderstood the hopelessness of turning her from her purpose.
"Uncle dear," she went on, "please say 'yes.' Because I'm going, andI'd feel happier with your sanction. Dave," she turned with a smileupon the lumberman, "you've just got to say 'yes,' or I'll never--neverlet you subscribe to any charity or--or anything I ever get up inMalkern again. Now you two dears, mind, I'm going anyway. I'll justcount three, and you both say 'yes' together."
She counted deliberately, solemnly, but there was a twinkle in herbrown eyes.
"One--two--three!"
And a simultaneous "Yes" came as surely as though neither had anyobjection to the whole proceeding. And furthermore, both men joined inthe girl's laugh when they realized how they had been cajoled. To themshe was quite irresistible.
"I don't know whatever your aunt will say," her uncle said lugubriously.
"It's not so much what she'll say as--as what may happen up there,"protested Dave, his conscience still pricking him.
But the girl would have no more of it.
"You are two dear old--yes, 'old'--sillies. Now, Dave, the mills!"
Betty carried all before her with these men who were little better thanher slaves. They obeyed her lightest command hardly knowing they obeyedit. Her uncle's authority, whilst fully acknowledged by her, waspractically non-existent. Her loyalty to him and her love for both herguardians left no room for the exercise of authority. And Dave--well,he was her adviser in all things, and like most people who have anadviser, Betty went her own sweet way, but in such a manner that madethe master of the mills believe that his help and advice werepractically indispensable to her.