CHAPTER III
AT THE ELBOW POOL
While waiting for his foreign commission, Dane found the summer daysslip by almost too rapidly, though there were occasions when, after along afternoon spent in Lilian's company, he fancied he could understandthe feelings of Tantallus. The girl appeared completely reassured, andtreated him with sisterly cordiality, while Chatterton, who knew nothingof their compact, nodded sapiently as he observed their growingfriendship. Dane sometimes wondered if he were not heaping up futuresorrow for himself; but, with infrequent exceptions, he found thepresent very good, and, being a sanguine man who could wait, he made themost of it.
Lilian was troubled by no misgivings. Once, when her aunt asked adiplomatic question, she smiled frankly as she said: "Yes. I am in oneway very fond of Hilton; you will remember that I always was. Weunderstand each other thoroughly; and he is so assured and solid thatone feels a restful sense of security in his company. You will rememberthe Highland chieftain's candlesticks--the men with the claymores andtorches, Aunty. Well, I fancy that worthy gentleman must have felt thesame thing when he dined in state with them about him. He had but tolift his finger and they would disappear, you know."
Mrs. Chatterton looked slightly grave as she answered: "Don't forgetthat they were also men with passions, and very terrible men,sometimes--for instance, at Killiecrankie. It would not surprise me ifyou discovered that there is a good deal of very vigorous human naturein Hilton Dane."
Thomas Chatterton still went fishing, generally with indifferentsuccess, but once Lilian caught Dane examining his creel, which wassurprisingly well filled.
"I am puzzled, Hilton," she said. "I made a wager with Uncle that hewould not catch a dozen good trout in a month, and now I fancy that hewill win it."
"Well?"
"Men are deceivers ever--especially when it is a question of catchingfish. I have noticed that when your host goes fishing by daylight herarely catches anything but eels, which, as everybody knows, do not riseto a fly, while when he rises early or returns in the dusk he brings areally fine trout or two. I cannot, however, believe that this one diedonly two hours ago. Can you suggest an explanation?"
"Charity," said Dane gravely, "suspecteth nothing. Don't you know thattrout rise most freely just before the dusk?"
Lilian shook her head.
"You are not sufficiently clever to set your wits against a woman's,"she declared.
Dane laughed, a trifle grimly; and the girl, momentarily startled bysomething in his merriment, decided that she must have been mistaken;but she abandoned the subject with some abruptness.
That very evening, perhaps sent forth by fate, because much dependedupon his fishing, Thomas Chatterton took up his rod and landing net,and, as he did not return by nightfall, his wife once more despatchedDane in search of him.
"I think you know where to find him; and I wish I did, for he has onlyto take two more trout to win," Lilian added significantly.
Dane proceeded by the shortest way to the big elbow pool, but it wasalmost dark when he reached it. There had been heavy rain, and all thefirs which loomed through thin white mist were dripping. The water camedown beneath them thick with the peat of the moorlands in incipientflood. Dane could hear its hoarse growl about the boulders studding thetail rapid, and surmised that there ought to be several trout on thepoacher's line. Having, nevertheless, no desire to surprise his hostred-handed, he did not immediately proceed toward it, but sat upon thedriest stone he could find, listening for his coming. There was no soundbut the clamor of the river and the heavy splashing of moisture from theboughs above, some of which trickled down his neck, until he heard arattle of falling stones, and a shadowy figure, which he guessed wasChatterton's, crawled down toward the alder roots.
A splash was followed by a hoarse exclamation as the man slipped intothe water up to the knee; then Dane heard the thud of a flung out fish,and sat very still, for it would clearly be injudicious to presenthimself just then. He noticed a minute twinkle of brightness among theboulders across the pool which puzzled him. It was too small for thelight of a lantern, and he remembered nothing that shone in just thesame fashion. While he wondered what it could be, another dark objectrose beside the alder, gripping what looked like a heavy stick.
"I'm thinking I have ye noo!" a gruff voice exclaimed. "Ye sorrowfulwastrel, stealing a puir man's fish!"
Thomas Chatterton stood upright, knee-deep in the river, with anexclamation; and Dane, knowing there was much deeper water close behindhim, sprang to his feet. That the irascible iron-master would show fightif necessary, he felt certain, and equally so that a portly elderlygentleman would make a poor match for a brawny laborer. Hardly had hegot to his feet, however, than the keeper, sliding down the bank,dropped silently into the river, and disappeared as if by magic, while,as Dane wondered what had startled him, another voice rang out.
"Run straight in on the alder while I head him off from the firs!" itdirected; and a whistle was followed by the sound of trampling feet.
Somebody came smashing through the undergrowth, and Dane was never quitecertain as to the cause for what happened next, though he surmised thatChatterton's dread of becoming a laughing-stock to his enemy provedmomentarily stronger than his reason. In any case, he must haveendeavored to follow the keeper's lead, and lost his footing, for a sideswing of the stream swept him out from shore, while Dane, realizing thatan elderly gentleman in heavy boots and leggings was hardly likely tomake much head against a flooded river, plunged from the bank in theflattest dive he could compass, though horribly afraid that he mightstrike his head against a submerged stone. It was a good plunge, for herose almost in mid-stream, and heard a great splashing and pantingclose before him. A few moments later, he had Chatterton by theshoulder, and braced himself for a struggle.
Chatterton, though driving sideways down the stream, could apparentlyswim a little, and did not appear unduly alarmed. Indeed, Dane had causefor believing he feared nothing except ridicule; but he was very heavy,and panted stentoriously, while muddy froth beat into the younger man'seyes and nostrils, and the rebound, which surged in a whirling eddy froma central rock, swept them down together toward the white race betweenthe boulders at the tail of the pool. Dane had no intention of beinghammered against them if it could be avoided, and did his utmost,thrusting with one hand on Chatterton's shoulder and swimming on hisside. Still, the boulders swept up-stream past them, the larches flittedby, and though they drew clear of the fastest rush, it seemed impossiblethat they could make a landing in time to escape the rapid. Chattertonwas apparently swallowing water, and choking badly now.
"For heaven's sake, make a last effort, sir!" spluttered Dane; and theiron-master splashed furiously.
A strip of shingle grew nearer, but they would hardly have reached ithad not a man floundered in almost shoulder-deep and clutched them asthey passed. All three went down together, Chatterton undermost; butwhen Dane's head broke the surface, a hand was twined in his hair, and ahalf-choked voice said:
"You are in wading distance, man. Get up and walk!"
Dane felt sliding shingle beneath him, and tightening his grip onChatterton he struggled for a foothold; and finally they reeled,breathless, dazed, and dripping, out among the boulders. Then somebodyturned back the slide of a darkened lantern, and the half-drownedChatterton gasped, for it was evident that his rescuer was CarsluithMaxwell, the son of his enemy. Maxwell stared at Chatterton, and theiron-master gaped at him; but while blank astonishment was stamped onboth their faces, it was Maxwell who recovered his senses first.
"Robertson, hail Jim to run over to The Larches, and say that Mr.Chatterton, who fell into the river trying to capture a poacher, iscoming home with me to change his clothes," he ordered, and then turnedtoward the dripping pair. "It was very plucky of you, sir, and you wereonly a few seconds too late. I thought you would secure the depredator.It is two miles round by the footbridge, and you hardly look fit for thewalk, so you are coming to Culmeny with me. There is really no us
eprotesting."
Thomas Chatterton did not look capable of much exertion, but hehesitated.
"It is very kind of you, but your father and I, unfortunately--"
Maxwell laughed.
"I believe you had some trifling difference; but this is a Christiancountry, and the reason given quite insufficient for letting you freezeto death. Mr. Dane, I presume? You will help me to persuade your host."
Chatterton, although exhausted, yielded dubiously, and it was not longbefore the pair shed their dripping garments beside a blazing fire inCulmeny, and struggled into the dry ones provided, both sets being ofaverage size. Dane, however, was tall and long of limb; Chatterton wasshort and broad, and when his toilet was finished, he stood uphalf-choked, with every button straining about him.
"This is worse than a strait waistcoat, Hilton," he fumed; "and I'drather forfeit five pounds than go down and meet them as I am. By theway, I believe I never thanked you; but I will not forget our swim. Buttell me how you came to turn up so opportunely."
Chatterton betrayed some anxiety in the last words, but Dane managed toframe an answer which reassured him as he surveyed himself in a glassand hoped the Misses Maxwell would not put in an appearance. The wethair plastered down his forehead showed a washed-out straw color againstthe darkened skin. His brown wrists and ankles projected ridiculouslyfrom the borrowed garments, and somebody's slippers would not cover morethan a portion of his feet.
"We are neither of us particularly prepossessing at first sight, but Isuppose we must make the best of it; Maxwell asked us to come down whenwe were ready," he said.
They went down, Chatterton fuming, Dane struggling with a desire tolaugh; and two men rose to meet them when they entered a long,low-ceilinged room. That meeting was fraught with far-reachingconsequences, and Dane could afterward recall it vividly. The old placeof Culmeny was an ancient and somewhat decrepit edifice, owned for manygenerations by the Maxwells, and the wainscot of the room was dark withage. Quaintly embroidered curtains were drawn across one end of it;there were few pictures, and these old; while the whole place wore asomber air, almost intensified by the light of the wax candles on thegreat uncovered table, which supported a steaming bowl. This, Danenoticed, was of oak hooped with tarnished silver. It was, however, thetwo men who fixed his attention. The elder, a spare gray-haired man witha white moustache, came forward holding out his hand.
"I must congratulate you upon your escape, Mr. Chatterton," he said. "Iam glad that Carsluith had sense enough to bring you home with him; andI can recommend a ladleful of this mixture as a preventative against achill, while regretting that, because the fires were low, we could notsend you a dose earlier. The customs of Culmeny are not altogether whatthey used to be."
The pair formed a striking contrast when Chatterton turned toward hishost, glass in hand. The one was softly spoken, spare to gauntness, andcharacterized by a subtle air of distinction; the other, short, florid,abrupt in speech, and more often aggressive than dignified in manner.Then, because Chatterton was also a man of impulse, who cared forneither place nor tradition when anything stirred him, as his host'swelcome evidently did, he bowed to Brandram Maxwell with more grace thanDane deemed him capable of.
"Here's to our better acquaintance, sir; and my best thanks," he said."I'm a plain, self-taught man, and may have blundered in enforcing whatI thought my rights. If so, I regret it."
What Brandram Maxwell answered Dane did not remember, but he expressedit very neatly; and while the feud was patched up, his son smiledcuriously at the younger man. He was like his father, but taller instature, dark in color of eyes and hair, and slightly olive-tinted incomplexion, while his movements suggested a wiry suppleness. Danesurmised that he was of reserved, if not slightly sardonic, disposition.
The bowl of punch was emptied with every sign of amity; and when it wasfinished Thomas Chatterton, who had absorbed the major portion anddeclared that he had never tasted anything better, said: "I hope weshall see much more of each other in future, and, as an earnest of thewish, I will expect you shortly at The Larches, where Mrs. Chattertonwill thank you for your kindness better than I can."
While Brandram Maxwell started some topic of conversation with his elderguest, his son, to whom Dane had mentioned the affair of the Englishmanin South America, drew him aside.
"Hyslop and I were once good friends, and I consider myself your debtorfor what you did for him," he said. "Did he tell you much about hiswanderings, or that he and I came near successfully exploiting a Mexicanmine?"
"No," said Dane. "He told me very little. What went wrong with themine?"
Maxwell laughed.
"The unexpected happened. It generally does when one awaits theconsummation of an ingenious scheme. I am especially sorry Hyslop hasgone."
Dane longed to ascertain whether his new friend suspected any otherexplanation than the one he had seized upon for Chatterton's plunge intothe river, and endeavored to do so, without success; for even when heafterward learned to know and trust him well, he never found it easy toglean more from Carsluith Maxwell than he wished to tell. An accident,however, favored him, and he thought more of the man for his reticencewhen, as the master of Culmeny was exhibiting some new artificialminnows in his gun-room, he heard his son, who had slipped away, say tosomebody in the darkness beneath the open window:
"You remember the pheasants' eggs incident, Kevan? You need not repeatyour explanations, because I have no intention of raking it up, andmerely wish to suggest that you find means of preventing your comradesfrom talking too much about what happened to-night. When a gentleman ofMr. Chatterton's years allows his excitement to overcome him to such anextent that he follows a poacher into a flooded river, he naturallywould not like his adventures made public property."
"I'm a wee bit puzzled, sir," answered an invisible person; andMaxwell's voice rose faintly through the sound of retreating footsteps:
"I am not puzzled in the least; and that ought to be sufficient. You aresure you understand my wishes?"
He came in a few moments later to inform his guests that the dog-cartwas waiting.
As they drove home, Chatterton said sententiously:
"We all make mistakes at times, Hilton; and that was most excellentpunch. For instance, when one comes to know him, Maxwell is what mightbe termed a very good fellow. Hard up like the rest of them, of course;land and buildings, as everybody knows, burdened to the hilt, but--Isuppose it was born in him--he bears the stamp, and his son wears ittoo. You and I are different, you know, though travel has done a gooddeal for you. I have handled a good many men in my time, and I like thatfellow's looks. He would be a very bad kind to tackle when the devilthat smiles through his black eyes wakes up; and I think he'd stand bythe man who played him fair through the damnedest kind of luck."
Dane, who fully endorsed this opinion, was afterward to discover thatThomas Chatterton was no bad judge of his fellow-men.
"They are neither of the type one associates with this part of thecountry," he commented.
"No," said Chatterton. "They were, I understand, always an adventurousfamily, and some of them who took part in the wars there in the old daysintermarried with the Spaniards then holding the Low Countries. A strainof that kind takes a long time to work out, you know."
Chatterton's fishing was not without results, for in spite of, orperhaps because of, their different character and experience, it was thecommencement of a friendship between himself and Maxwell of Culmeny. Theiron-master had hewn his own way to fortune, and, being troubled by nopetty diffidence, was, if anything, overfond of recounting has earlierstruggles. The wild blood of the old moss-troopers still pulsed in theveins of the Maxwells, and the impoverished gentleman, who listened withinterest, sighed as he remembered the sordid monotony of his own career,during which he had, by dint of painful economy, somewhat lightened theburden with which his inheritance had been saddled by the recklessnessof his forbears.
Carsluith Maxwell took even more kindly to his new acquaintances;
andthere sprang up between himself and Dane a comradeship which was tostand a bitter test, while, as summer merged into autumn, he wouldsometimes wonder at himself. He said nothing about his African venture,and spent much time considering old rent books and the cost of moss-landreclamation schemes. The rest he spent shooting with Dane, or loungingat The Larches, if possible in Lilian Chatterton's vicinity; but,although he could rouse himself to temporary brilliancy, Maxwell wasusually oversilent in feminine society, and Dane felt no jealousy. Thelatter rested content in the meantime with the knowledge that Lilianfound a mild pleasure in his company; and only Mrs. Chatterton felt anymisgivings respecting future possibilities. Being a wise woman, she kepther suspicions to herself until they became certainties, when one dayMiss Margaret Maxwell, perhaps not wholly by accident, gave her asignificant hint.
"I hear that your brother has undertaken an extensive drainage scheme,"said the elder lady.
"We are hopeful that he will settle down at last," responded MargaretMaxwell. "My father's health is failing, and he has long desired hisson's company; but Carsluith was always ambitious, and used to say hewould never vegetate in poverty at Culmeny. Of late, however, we havebeen pleased to see that he is taking an almost suspicious interest inthe improvement of the estate, and is now investing the money he made inMexico in the reclamation of Langside Moss. As Carsluith seldom doesanything without a reason, his sudden change of program puzzles us."
Mrs. Chatterton fancied she could supply the reason, but she made nocomment. Lilian, she decided, had a right to choose for herself, andmight make a worse selection than a Maxwell of Culmeny.
In the meantime, Dane still awaited his foreign commission, and mighthave waited indefinitely, but that once again a poacher played a part inthe shaping of his destiny. There were plenty of them in thatneighborhood; while rogue, and clown, and commonplace individual ofaverage honesty usually outnumber either the saints or heroes in life'scomedy. The poachers were netting the Culmeny partridges, and Danepromised to assist his comrade in an attempt to capture them.