XIV
HOW THE TRUTH CAME TO ELIZA
Appleton found his employer with one foot in a tub of hot water and hislap full of blueprints. O'Neil explained briefly the condition ofaffairs down the river.
"I want some one to make that crossing," he said.
"A volunteer?" asked Dan, with quickened pulses.
"Yes."
"Will I do?"
"I sent for you to give you the first chance--you've been chafing so atyour idleness. We must have steel laid to this point before snow flies.Every hour counts. I daren't risk Mellen or McKay, for they might bedisabled. I intended to take charge myself, but I won't be able to walknow for some time." He swore a little, and Dan nodded sympathetically."I wouldn't send anybody where I'd refuse to go myself. You understand?"
"Of course."
"If either McKay or Mellen were hurt I couldn't build the bridge, andthe bridge must be built."
"If Gordon stands pat somebody may be--hurt."
"I don't look for anything worse than a few broken heads, but of courseI can't tell. I'll stand behind you with my last dollar, no matter whathappens."
Dan laughed. "As I understand the situation you won't have a dollarunless we make the crossing."
"Right!" O'Neil smiled cheerfully. "The life of the S. R. & N. dependsupon it. I'd give ten thousand dollars for your right ankle."
"You can have it for nothing, Chief. I'd amputate the whole leg andpresent it to you," Dan declared earnestly.
Murray took his hand in a hearty grip. "Perhaps I'll be able to serveyou some time," he said, simply. "Anyhow, I'll look out for the chance.Now spend the evening with the girls, and leave in the morning. I'll bedown as soon as I can travel, to watch the fight from the side-lines."O'Neil's voice was level, but his teeth were shut and his fingers wereclenched with rage at his disability.
Dan hurried away highly elated, but when he told Eliza of the part hehad undertaken she stormed indignantly.
"Why, the brute! He has no right to send you into danger. This isn'twar."
"Sis, dear, it's my chance. He can't stand, and he daren't risk hisright-hand men."
"So he sacrifices you! I won't permit it. Your life and safety areworth more than all his dollars. Let his old railroad go to smash!"
"Wait! More than my safety depends on this. He said he'd wait for achance to pay me back. If I do this he'll owe me more than any man onthe job, and when he learns that I love Natalie--"
"Dan!" exclaimed his sister.
"Oh, he'll make good!"
"Why, you're worse than he! The idea of suggesting such a thing!"
"Don't preach! I've had nothing to do lately but think of her; she'salways in my mind. The loneliness up here has made me feel more thanever that I can't exist without her. The river whispers her name; herface looks at me from the campfire; the wind brings me her messages--"
"Fiddlesticks! She saves her messages for him. When a man reaches thepoetical stage he's positively sickening. You'll be writing versesnext."
"I've written 'em," Dan confessed, sheepishly; "oceans of mush."
"Fancy! Thank Heaven one of us is sane."
"Our dispositions were mixed when we were born, Eliza. You'reunsentimental and hard-headed: I'm romantic. You'll never know whatlove means."
"If you are a sample, I hope not." Eliza's nose assumed an even highertilt than usual.
"Well, if I knew I had no chance with Natalie I'd let Gordon's men putan end to me--that's how serious it is. But I have a chance--I know Ihave."
"Bosh! You've lived in railroad camps too long. I know a dozen girlsprettier than she." Eying him with more concern, she asked, seriously,"You wouldn't really take advantage of a service to Murray O'Neilto--to tell him the nature of your insanity?"
"I might not actually tell him, but I'd manage it so he'd find out."
"Don't you think Natalie has something to say? Don't you think she ismore than a piece of baggage waiting to be claimed by the first man whocomes along?" sputtered Miss Appleton in fine disgust at this attitude."She has more sense and determination than any girl, any pretty girl, Iever saw. That's one reason why I hate her so. There's no use trying toselect a husband for her. When the time comes she'll do the selectingherself. She'll knock over all our plans and walk blushingly up to thealtar with O'Neil, leaving us out on the sidewalk to cheer. I'm sorry Iever tried to help you! I'm going to quit and get back my self-respect."
"You'll do no such thing. You'll continue to help your poor red-headedbrother to the finish. Say! When I'm alone I'm just bursting withoptimism; when I'm with you I wither with despair; when I'm withNatalie I become as heavy and stupid as a frog full of buckshot--I justsit and blink and bask and revel in a sort of speechless bliss. If sheever saw how really bright and engaging I am--"
"You!" Eliza sniffed. "You're as uninteresting as I am."
"Now that you've pledged your undying support, here goes for somebasking," said Dan; and he made off hastily in search of Miss Gerard.
Eliza had really made up her mind to wash her hands of the affair, butshe wavered, and, as usual, she gave in. She did go to O'Neil toprotest at Dan's selection for the post of danger, but after talkingwith him she began to see the matter in a new light, and her oppositionweakened. He showed her that the S. R. & N. had an individuality of itsown--an individuality greater than Murray O'Neil's, or Dan Appleton's,or that of any man connected with it. She began to understand that itwas a living thing, and that O'Neil was merely a small part of it--aperson driven by a power outside himself, the head servant of a greatundertaking, upon whom rested a heavy responsibility. She saw for thefirst time that the millions invested in the project imposed upon thoseconcerned with its management a sacred duty, and that failure to defendthe company's rights would be the worst sort of treachery. She began toappreciate also how men may be willing to lay down their lives, ifnecessary, to pave the way for the march of commerce.
"I never looked at it in this way," she told him, when he had finished."I--don't like to take that view of it, even now, but I suppose I must."
"Try not to worry about Dan," he said, sympathetically. "We'll startback as soon as I'm able to move around, and I'll do my best to seethat he isn't hurt. It's--tough to be laid up this way."
"There's another sick man in camp, by the way."
"Who?"
"The Indian boy who helps the cook. He was hunting and shot himself inthe arm."
"They told me he was doing well."
"Oh, he is, but the pain has kept the poor fellow awake until he'snearly out of his head. There are no drugs here."
"None this side of the end of the track."
"Can't we do something?"
"We can give Dan a note to 'Happy Tom' in the morning and have whateveryou want sent up. Tom will be there, and perhaps if you ask him he'lldespatch a man on foot at once."
Seizing pen and paper from the table, Eliza wrote a note, which sheread aloud:
"DEAR UNCLE TOM,--There is a sick Indian here. Won't you please send upan opiate by special messenger, and receive the blessing of, Youraffectionate, ELIZA."
"Better change the word 'opiate,'" O'Neil advised. "I don't think Tomis equal to that; he might send overalls!" So Eliza substituted"something to put him to sleep." This message Dan promised faithfullyto deliver.
Murray had expected to begin the return journey within twenty-fourhours after his arrival; but his injury mended slowly, and when thetime came he was still unable to stand. This interval the girls spentin watching the glaciers, of which they never seemed to tire, and inspoiling many films.
It was late on the second day when a tired and sodden messenger bearingthe marks of heavy travel appeared at O'Neil's tent and inquired forMiss Appleton. To her he handed a three-foot bundle and a note from TomSlater which read:
DEAR MADAM,--Here is the best thing I know of to put an Indian tosleep. THOS. SLATER.
"There's some mistake, surely," said the girl, as she unrolled theodd-looking package; then she crie
d out angrily, and O'Neil burst intolaughter. For inside the many wrappings was a pick-handle.
Eliza's resentment at "Happy Tom's" unsympathetic sense of humor wastempered in a measure by the fact that the patient had taken a turn forthe better and really needed no further medical attention. But she wasnot accustomed to practical jokes, and she vowed to make Tom's lifemiserable if ever the occasion offered.
As the days wore on and Murray remained helpless his impatience becameacute, and on the fourth morning he determined to leave, at whatevercost in pain or danger to the injury. He gave orders, therefore, tohave a boat prepared, and allowed himself to be carried to it. Theforeman of the bridge crew he delegated to guide the girls down acrossthe moraine, where he promised to pick them up. The men who had comewith him he sent on to the cataract where Dan had been.
"Aren't you coming with us?" asked Natalie, when they found him seatedin the skiff with an oarsman.
"It's rough going. I'd have to be carried, so I prefer this," he toldthem.
"Then we'll go with you," Eliza promptly declared.
Natalie paled and shook her dark head. "Is it safe?" she ventured.
"No, it isn't! Run along now! I'll be down there waiting, when youarrive."
"If it's safe enough for you, it's safe enough for us," said Eliza.Climbing into the boat, she plumped herself down with a look whichseemed to defy any power to remove her. Her blue eyes met O'Neil's grayones with an expression he had never seen in them until this moment.
"Nonsense, child!" he said. "Don't be silly."
"Don't you try to put me out. I'll hang on and--kick. Don't you say'please,' either," she warned him.
"I must," he protested. "Please don't insist."
She scowled like an angry boy, and seized the gunwales firmly. Herexpression made him smile despite his annoyance, and this provoked herthe more.
"I'm going!" she asserted, darkly.
This outing had done wonders for both girls. The wind and the sunshinehad tanned them, the coarse fare had lent them a hearty vigor, and theymade charming pictures in their trim short skirts and sweaters andleather-banded hats.
"Very well! If you're going, take off your boots," commanded O'Neil.
"What for?"
"We may be swamped and have to swim for it. You see the man has takenhis off." Murray pointed to the raw-boned Norwegian oarsman, who hadstripped down as if for a foot-race.
Eliza obeyed.
"Now your sweater."
Natalie had watched this scene with evident concern. She now seatedherself upon a boulder and began to tug at her rubber boots.
"Here! Here! You're not going, too!" O'Neil exclaimed.
"Yes, I am. I'm frightened to death, but I won't be a coward." Hershaking hands and strained voice left no doubt of her seriousness.
"She can't swim," said Eliza; and O'Neil put an end to this display ofheroism with a firm refusal.
"You'll think I'm afraid," Natalie expostulated.
"Bless you, of course we will, because you are! So am I, and so isEliza, for that matter. If you can't swim you'd only be taking afoolish risk and adding to our danger. Besides, Eliza doesn't know thefeel of cold water as we do."
Natalie smiled a little tremulously at recollection of the shipwreck.
"I'd much rather walk, of course," she said; and then to Eliza, "It--itwill be a lovely ramble for us."
But Eliza shook her head. "This is material for my book, and I'll makeenough out of it to--to--"
"Buy another orchard," Murray suggested.
Feeling more resigned now that the adventure had taken on a purelyfinancial color, Natalie at length allowed herself to be dissuaded, andEliza settled herself in her seat with the disturbing consciousnessthat she had made herself appear selfish and rude in O'Neil's eyes.Nevertheless, she had no notion of changing her mind.
When the other girl had gone the oarsman completed his preparations bylashing fast the contents of the skiff--a proceeding which Elizawatched with some uneasiness. O'Neil showed his resentment by a pointedsilence, which nettled her, and she resolved to hold her seat thoughthe boat turned somersaults.
Word was finally given, and they swung out into the flood. O'Neil stoodas best he could on his firm leg, and steered by means of asculling-oar, while the Norwegian rowed lustily.
Bits of drift, patches of froth, fragments of ice accompanied them,bobbing alongside so persistently that Eliza fancied the boat must bestationary until, glancing at the river-banks, she saw them racing pastlike the panoramic scenery in a melodrama. The same glance showed herthat they were rushing directly toward the upper ramparts of JacksonGlacier, as if for an assault. Out here in the current there werewaves, and these increased in size as the bed of the Salmon grewsteeper, until the poling-boat began to rear and leap like a frightenedhorse. The gleaming wall ahead rose higher with every instant: itoverhung, a giant, crumbling cliff, imposing, treacherous. Then thestream turned at right angles; they were swept along parallel with theice face, and ahead of them for three miles stretched the gauntlet. Thetottering wall seemed almost within reaching distance; its breath wascold and damp and clammy. O'Neil stood erect and powerful in the stern,swaying to the antics of the craft, his weight upon the sweep, his eyesfixed upon the Thing overhead. The Norwegian strained at his oars whilethe sweat ran down into his open shirt. The boat lunged and walloweddesperately, rising on end, falling with prodigious slaps, drenchingthe occupants with spray. It was splendid, terrifying! Eliza clung toher seat and felt her heartbeats smothering her. Occasionally theoarsman turned, staring past her with round, frightened eyes, andaffording her a glimpse of a face working with mingled fear andexultation.
Thus far the glacier had not disputed their passage; it maintained thesilence and the immobility of marble; nothing but the snarl of thesurging flood re-echoed from its face. But with the suddenness of arifle-shot there came a detonation, louder, sharper than any blast ofpowder. The Norwegian cursed; the helmsman dropped his eyes to thewhite face in the bow and smiled.
Half a mile ahead of them a mass of ice came rumbling down, and thewhole valley rocked with the sound. Onward the little craft fled, adancing speck beneath the majesty of that frozen giant, an atomthreatened by the weight of mountains. At last through the opening ofthe gorge below came a glimpse of the flats that led to the sea. Amoment later the boat swung into an eddy and came to rest, bumpingagainst the boulders.
O'Neil sat down, wiping his wet face.
"Well, was it worth your trouble, Miss Kick-over the-traces?" he asked.
"Oh, it was glorious! I'll never forget it."
Eliza's cheeks were burning now, her aching hands relaxed their hold,and she drew a deep breath--the first of which she had been conscioussince the start, fifteen minutes before.
"Now, on with your boots and your sweater. We'll have an hour's waitfor Natalie."
She gave a cry of surprise and offered him a glimpse of a trim ankleand a dripping foot.
"See! They're wet, and I wriggled my toes right through my stockings. INEVER was so excited."
The boatman fastened the painter and resumed his outer clothing. O'Neillit a cigar and asked:
"Tell me, why did you insist on coming?"
"I was afraid something might happen to you."
He raised his brows, and she flushed. "Don't you understand? Dan wouldnever have forgiven me, and--and--I just HAD to come, that's all. It'scorking material for me--I thought you might upset, and I--I don't knowwhy I insisted." She bent over her stubborn boots, hiding her face. Shewas flaming to the ears, for suddenly she knew the reason that hadprompted her. It rushed upon her like a sense of great shame. Sherecalled the desperate grip at her heart when she had seen him ready toleave, the wildness of her longing to share his danger, the black fearthat he might meet disaster alone. It had all come without warning, andthere had been no time for self-consciousness, but now she realized thetruth. The poignant pain of it made her fingers clumsy and sent thatflood of scarlet to her neck and ears.
W
hen Natalie arrived they cast off, and the remaining miles were madein a few hours.
Appleton joined them for lunch in the tent they remembered so well, andprofessed to be shocked at the report of his sister's foolhardiness.But whatever may have been Natalie's fear of ridicule, it promptlydisappeared under his complete indorsement of her wisdom in refrainingfrom such a mad adventure. As if to put her even more at ease, O'Neilwas especially attentive to her; and Eliza reflected gloomily that men,after all, dislike bravado in women, that a trapeze artist or a ladyballoonist inspires only a qualified admiration.
During O'Neil's absence work had progressed steadily. On his return hefound the grade completed to within a few yards of Gordon'sright-of-way. Although he was still unable to walk, he insisted upongoing to the front, whither he was helped by Appleton and "Happy Tom."
Into the narrow space between the end of his embankment and that of hisrival's a gravel-train was spilling its burden, and a hundredpick-and-shovel men were busy. The opposing forces also seemed hard atwork, but their activity was largely a pretense, and they showedplainly that they were waiting for the clash. They were a hard-lookingcrew, and their employer had neglected no precaution. He had erectedbarricades for their protection until his grade looked like a militarywork.
"They haven't showed any guns yet, but I'm sure they're armed,"Appleton told his chief.
"How is the place lighted by night?" O'Neil inquired.
"Oil torches," Slater answered. "Ah! We've been recognized. That comesfrom being fat, I s'pose."
As he spoke a donkey-engine at the right of the proposed crossing setup a noisy rattling, a thin steel cable whipped into view between therails, and from the left there appeared a contrivance which O'Neil eyedcuriously. It was a sort of drag, and rode back and forth upon therails.
"Humph! They'd better not put much trust in that," Murray grunted,grimly.
"Don't fool yourself; it's no rubber-tired baby-carriage," said Slater."Our men are afraid of it."
After watching the device scuttle back and forth for a few momentsO'Neil said shortly:
"Post a notice at once, offering a thousand dollars for any man whocuts that cable."
"A thousand--" Appleton gasped. "Why, I'll do it. Let me--"
"No, you won't," Slater broke in. "I'll take that on myself."
"I spoke first. It's my first chance," Dan cried.
"It's my job! I'm going--"
"Wait a minute!" O'Neil silenced the two, who were glaring at eachother angrily. "Don't let's have any fighting; there will be enough ofthat later."
"I spoke first," Dan repeated, stubbornly.
"I had my mouth puckered to spit, that's why," the fat man explained."A fellow has to spit--"
"I'd rather you wouldn't volunteer, Dan," said O'Neil.
"Why?"
"You might get hurt."
"Happy Tom" nodded his agreement. "Certainly! Never send a boy on aman's errand."
"And I don't want you to do it either, Tom, for the same reason."
Slater mumbled some sort of sour acquiescence, but Dan would not bedenied.
"You made the offer, and I took it up," he told O'Neil. "Somebody hasto make the first move, and I have a particular need for exactly onethousand dollars. If they start a rumpus, it will give us the excusewe're looking for. I've been studying that 'go-devil' throughfield-glasses for two days now, and I'll guarantee to put it out ofcommission before Gordon's men know what I'm about. Just forget thereward, if you like, and give me a chance."
"What's your plan?" Slater inquired, eagerly; but Appleton shook hishead.
"No you don't, Tommy!" he said. "I'm wise to you."
Murray hesitated briefly, then gave his permission. "I'd rather you'dlet one of the rough-necks take the chance, but if you insist--"
"I do."
"Then get your sister's consent--"
Slater swore mournfully, as if from a heart filled with black despair.
"Ain't that my luck? One cud of gum cost me a thousand dollars! Hell!It would take a millionaire to afford a habit like that." He expelledthe gum violently and went grumbling off up the track.
"Sis won't object," said Dan, lightly. "She'd offer to do the trickherself, for she's getting the spirit of the work."
When O'Neil had managed to regain the camp he began preparations for anattack that very night, using the telephone busily. News of the comingaffray quickly spread, and both the day and night shifts discussed itexcitedly at supper-time.
Nor was the excitement lessened when a loaded gravel-train rolled inand Dr. Gray descended from it with his emergency kit and two helpersfrom the hospital at Omar.
Up to this point both Eliza and Natalie had hoped that the affair mightnot, after all, turn out to be very serious, but the presence of thegrim-faced surgeon and the significant preparations he set about makingboded otherwise. Eliza undertook to reason with her brother, but herwords refused to come. As a matter of fact, deep down in her heart wasa great rebellion at the fate which had made her a woman and thusdebarred her from an active part in the struggle. Natalie, on the otherhand, was filled with dread, and she made a much more vigorous attemptto dissuade Dan from his purpose than did his sister. But he refused toheed even her, and soon hurried away to finish his preparations.
After supper the camp settled itself to wait for darkness. Night wasslow in coming, and long before Appleton signified his readinessspeculation was rife. With the approach of twilight the torches alongGordon's grade began to glow brightly. Then Dan set his watch with"Happy Tom's," kissed Eliza, and made off across the tundra. He leftthe S. R. & N. at right angles and continued in that direction for amile or more before swinging about in a wide circle which brought himwell to the rear of Gordon's encampment. The gloom now covered hismovements, and by taking advantage of an alder thicket he managed toapproach very closely to the enemy's position. But the footing wastreacherous, the darkness betrayed him into many a fall, and he waswet, muddy, and perspiring when he finally paused not more than twohundred feet from the scene of the proposed crossing.