X.
THE FLUME BUILDER.
It was a hot afternoon, and a long trail of ethereal mist lay motionlessathwart the gleaming snow above, when Brooke stood dripping withperspiration in the shadow of a towering pine. The red dust was thickupon him, and his coarse blue shirt, which was badly torn, fell open atthe neck as he turned his head and looked down fixedly into the windingvalley. A lake flashed like a mirror among the trees below, save wherethe slumbering shadows pointed downwards into its crystal depths, butthe strip of hillside the forest had been hewn back from was scarred andtorn with raw gashes, and the dull thumping of the stamp-heads thatcrushed the gold-bearing quartz jarred discordantly through the song ofthe river. Mounds of debris, fire-blackened fir stumps, and piles ofhalf-burnt branches cumbered the little clearing, round which thetowering redwoods uplifted their stately spires, and the acrid fumes ofsmoke and giant powder drifted through their drowsy fragrance.
The blotch of man's crude handiwork marred the pristine beauty of thewilderness; but it had its significance, and pointed to what was to comewhen the plough had followed the axe and drill, and cornfields andorchards should creep up the hillsides where now the solemn pines lookeddown upon the desecrated valley. Brooke, however, was very naturally notconcerned with this just then. He was engaged in building a flume, orwooden conduit to bring down water to the mine, and was intentlywatching two little trails of faint blue smoke with a thin red sparklein the midst of them which crept up a dark rock's side.
He had no interest whatever in the task when he undertook it, but asomewhat astonishing and unexpected thing had happened, for by degreesthe work took hold of him. He was not by nature a lounger, and wasendued with a certain pertinacity, which had, however, only led him intodifficulties hitherto, or he would probably never have come out toCanada. Thus it came about that when he found the building of the flumetaxed all his ingenuity, as well as his physical strength, he becamesensible of a wholly unanticipated pleasure in the necessary effort, andhad almost forgotten the purpose which brought him there.
"How long did you cut those fuses to burn?" he said to Jimmy, who,though by no means fond of physical exertion, had come up to assist himfrom the ranch.
The latter glanced at the two trails of smoke, which a handful of men,snugly ensconced behind convenient trees, were also watching.
"I guessed it at four minutes," he said. "They're 'bout half-way throughnow. Still, I can't see nothing of the third one."
"No," said Brooke. "Nor can I. That loosely-spun kind snuffs outoccasionally. Quite sure they're not more than half-way through?"
"No," said Jimmy, reflectively. "I'd give them 'most two minutes yet.Hallo! What in the name of thunder are you going to do?"
It was not an unnatural question, because when those creeping trains ofsparks reached the detonators the rock would be reft asunder by giantpowder and a shower of ponderous fragments and flying debris hurledacross the valley, while Brooke, who swung round abruptly, bounded downthe slope.
Jimmy stared at him in wonder, and then set off without reflection inchase of him. He was not addicted to hurrying himself when it was notnecessary, but he ran well that day, with the vague intention ofdragging back his comrade, whose senses, he fancied, had suddenlydeserted him. The men behind the trees were evidently under the sameimpression, for confused cries went up.
"Go back! Stop right there! Catch him, Jimmy; trip him up!"
Jimmy did his best, but he was slouching and loose of limb, whileBrooke was light of foot and young. He was also running his hardest,with grim face and set lips, straight for the rock, and was scramblingacross the debris beneath it, which rolled down at every step, whenJimmy reached up and caught his leg. He said nothing, but when Brookeslid backwards, grabbed his jacket, which tore up the back; and therewas a shout from the men behind the trees, two of whom came runningtowards the pair.
"Pull him down! No, let go of him, and tear the fuses out!"
Nobody saw exactly what took place next, and neither Brooke nor Jimmyafterwards remembered; but in another moment the latter sat gaspingamong the debris, while his comrade clambered up the slope alone. Italso happened, though everybody was too intent to notice this, that agirl, with brown eyes and a big white hat, who had been strollingthrough the shadow of the pines on the ridge above, stopped abruptlyjust then. She could see the trail of sparks creep across the stone, andunderstood the position, which the shouts of the miners would have madeplain to her if she had not. She could not see the man's face, thoughshe realized that he was in imminent peril, and felt her heart throbpainfully. Then, in common with the rest of those who watched him, shehad a second astonishment, for he did not pull out the burning fuses,but crawled past them, and bent over something with a lighted match inhis hand.
Brooke in the meanwhile set his lips as the match went out, and struckanother, while a heavy silence followed the shouts. The men, who graspedhis purpose, now realized that interference would come too late, andthose who had started from them went back to the trees. There onlyremained Brooke, clinging with one hand to a cranny of the rock while heheld the match, whose diminutive flame showed pale in the blaze ofsunlight, and Jimmy, rising apparently half-dazed from among the debris.The girl in the white hat afterwards recalled that picture, and couldsee the two lonely men, blurred figures in the shadows, and clusteringpines. When that happened, she also felt a curious little thrill whichwas half-horror and half-appreciation.
Then the third fuse sparkled, and Brooke sprang down, grasped Jimmy'sshoulder, and drove him before him. There was a fresh shouting, and nowevery one could see two men running for their lives for the shelter ofthe pines. It seemed a very long while before they reached them, and allthe time three blue trails of smoke and sparkling lines of fire werecreeping with remorseless certainty up the slope of stone. The girl uponthe ridge above closed her hands tightly to check a scream, and bronzedmen, who had braved a good many perils in their time, set their lips ormurmured incoherently.
In the meanwhile the two men were running well, with drawn faces,staring eyes, and the perspiration dripping from them, and there was ahoarse murmur of relief when at last they flung themselves into theshadow of the pines. It was followed by a stunning detonation, and ablaze of yellow flame, while the hillside trembled when the smoke rolleddown. Flying fragments of rock came out of it, there was a roar offalling stones, a crashing in the forest where great boughs snapped, andthe lake boiled as though torn up by cannon shot. Then a curious silencefollowed, intensified by an occasional splash and rattle as a stonewhich had travelled farther than the rest came down, and the girl in thewhite hat retired hastily as the fumes of giant powder, which producedizziness and nausea, drifted up the hillside.
Brooke sat down on a felled log, Jimmy leaned against a tree, and whilethe men clustered round them they looked at one another, and gaspedheavily.
"I figured you'd be blown into very little pieces less than a minuteago," said one of those who stood by. "What did you do it for, anyway?"
Brooke blinked at the questioner. "Third fuse snuffed out," he said. "Itwould have spoiled the shot. I cut it to match the others, and lightedit."
This was comprehensible, for to rend a piece of rock effectively, it isoccasionally necessary to apply the riving force at several places atthe same time.
"Still, you could have pulled the other fuses out and put new ones back.It would have been considerably less risky," said another man.
Brooke laughed breathlessly. "It certainly would, but I never thought ofthat," he said.
Then Jimmy broke in. "What made me sit down like I did?" he said.
"It was probably the same thing that tore my jacket half-way up theback."
"Well," said Jimmy, "there's a big lump there didn't use to be on theside of my head, too, and it was the concernedest hardest kind of rock Isat down upon. Next time you try to blow yourself up, I'm not goingafter you."
Brooke glanced at him quietly, with a curious look in his eyes.
"What made you
come at all?" he said.
Jim appeared to reflect. "I've done quite a lot of foolish thingsbefore--and I don't quite know."
Brooke only smiled, but a little flush crept into Jimmy's face, for mendo not express their sentiments dramatically in that country, that is,unless they are connected with mineral speculations or the selling ofland.
"Of course!" he said. "I fancy I shall remember it."
They turned away together to inspect the result of the shot, and one ofthe miners who looked after them nodded approval. "When that man takeshold of anything he puts it through 'most every time," he said."There's good hard sand in him."
In the meanwhile Jimmy glanced at his comrade, apparently with an entireabsence of interest, out of half-closed eyes.
"I guess you were too busy to see a friend of yours a little while ago?"he said.
"I expect I was," said Brooke. "Anyway, nobody I'm acquainted with islikely to be met with in this part of the province, unless it wasSaxton."
"No," said Jimmy, "it wasn't him. Saxton doesn't go trailing round in abig white hat and a four-decker skirt with a long tail to it."
Brooke turned a trifle sharply, and glanced at him. "You mean MissHeathcote?"
"Yes," said Jimmy, reflectively, "if it's the one that was Barbara lasttime, I guess I do. You have been finding out the rest of it since youmet her at the ranch? She was up yonder ten minutes ago."
He pointed to a forest-covered ridge above the mine, but Brooke, lookingup with all his eyes, saw nothing but the serried ranks of climbingpines. As it happened, however, the girl, who stood amidst theirshadows, saw him, and smiled. She had noticed Jimmy's pointing hand, andfancied she knew what his companion was looking for.
"Then you are certainly mistaken," he said. "There is nowhere she couldbe staying at within several leagues of the Canopus."
"There's the Englishman's old ranch house Devine bought. It's quite agood one."
Brooke started a little, and Jimmy, who was much quicker of wit thansome folks believed, noticed it.
"She certainly couldn't be staying there. It's quite out of thequestion," he said, with an assurance that was chiefly intended toconvince himself.
"Well," said Jimmy, who appeared to ruminate, "I guess you know best.Still, I can't think of any other place, unless she's living in a cave."
Brooke said nothing further, but signed to the men who were waiting, andproceeded to roll the shattered rock out of the course of his flume. Hefelt it was certain that Jimmy was mistaken, for the only otherconclusion appeared preposterous, and he could not persuade himself toconsider it. Still, he thought of the girl with the brown eyes oftenwhile he swung axe and hammer during the rest of the afternoon, and whenhe strolled up the hillside after the six o'clock supper he was thinkingof her still. He climbed until the raw gap of the workings was lostamong the pines, and then lay down.
The evening was still and cool, for the chill of the snow made itselffelt once the sunlight faded from the valley. Now and then a sound cameup faintly from the mine, but that was not often, and a great quietnessreigned among the pines, which towered above him, two hundred feet totheir topmost sprays, in serried ranks. They were old long before thewhite man first entered that wild mountain land, while, as he lay therein the scented dimness among their wide-girthed trunks, all thatconcerned the Canopus and its pounding stamp-heads slipped away fromhim. He was worn out in body, but his mind was clear and free, and,lying still, unlighted pipe in hand, he gave his fancy the rein, and,forgetting Devine and the flume, dreamed of what had once been his, andmight, if he could make his purpose good, be his again.
The sordid details of the struggle he had embarked upon faded from hismemory, for the cold silence of the mountains seemed to banish them. Itgave him courage and tranquillity, and, for the time at least, nothingseemed unattainable, while through all his wandering fancies moved avision of a girl in a long white dress, who looked down upon himfearlessly from a plunging pony's back. That was the recollection hecherished most, though he had also seen her with diamonds gleaming inher dusky hair in the Vancouver opera-house.
Then he started, and a little thrill ran through him as he wonderedwhether it was a trick his eyes had played him or he saw her in theflesh. She stood close beside him, with a grey cedar trunk behind her,in a long trailing dress, but the white hat was in her hand now, and thelittle shapely head bared to the cooling touch of the dew. Still, shehad materialized so silently out of the shadows that he almost feltafraid to move lest she should melt into them again, and he lay verystill, watching her until she glanced at him. Then he sprang, awkwardly,to his feet, with a little smile.
"I would scarcely venture to tell you what I thought you were, but it isin one respect consoling to find you real," he said.
"Why?" said the girl.
"Because you are not likely to vanish again. You must remember that Ifirst saw you clothed in white samite, with the moon behind yourshoulder, in the river."
The girl laughed. "I wonder if you know what white samite is?"
"I don't," said Brooke, reflectively. "I never did, but it seems to gowith water lapping on the rocks and mystery. Still, you--are--material,fortunately."
"Very," said Barbara. "Besides, I certainly did not bring you a sword."
Brooke appeared to consider. "One can never be quite certain ofanything--especially in British Columbia. But how did you come here?"
The girl favored him with a comprehensive glance, which Brooke felt tookin his well-worn jean, coarse blue shirt, badly-rent jacket, andshapeless hat.
"I was about to ask you the same thing. It was in Vancouver I saw youlast," she said.
"I came here on a very wicked pack-horse--one that kicked, and on twooccasions came very near falling down a gorge with me. I am now buildinga flume for the Canopus mine--if you know what that is."
Barbara laughed. "I fancy I know rather more about flumes than you did alittle while ago. At least, I have reason to believe so, from what amining foreman told me this afternoon. He, however, expressedunqualified approval, as well as a little astonishment, at the progressyou had made. You see, I happened to observe what took place before theshot was fired a few hours ago."
"Then you witnessed an entirely unwarranted piece of folly."
A curious little gleam crept into Barbara's eyes, but she smiled. "Youcould have cut those fuses, and relighted them afterwards, but, sinceyou did not remember it, I don't think that counts. What made you takethe risk?"
"Well," said Brooke, reflectively, "after worrying over the probableline of cleavage of that troublesome rock, it seemed to me that if Iwished to split it, I must explode three charges of giant powder incertain places simultaneously. Now, if you examine what you might callthe texture of a rock, though, of course, a really crystalline body----"
Barbara made a little gesture of impatience. "That is not in the leastwhat I mean--as I fancy you are quite aware."
"Then," said Brooke, with a faint twinkle in his eyes, "I'm afraid Idon't quite understand the moral causes of the proceeding myself, thoughI have heard my comrade describe one quality which may have hadsomething to do with it as mulishness. It was, of course, reprehensibleof me to be led away by it, especially as when I took the contract Ireally didn't care if the flume was never built."
"And now you mean to finish it if it ruins you?"
"No," said Brooke, "I really don't think I do. In fact, I hope to make agood many dollars out of it, directly or indirectly."
He had spoken without reflection, and was sensible of a most unpleasantembarrassment when the girl glanced at him sharply, which she did notfail to notice.
"Building flumes is evidently more profitable than I thought it was,"she said. "Still, you will no doubt make most of thosedollars--indirectly?"
Brooke decided that it was advisable to change the subject. "I have," hesaid, "answered--your--question."
"Then I will do the same. I came here, because one can see the sunset onthe snow from this ridge, most prosaically on my feet
."
"But from where?" and Brooke's voice was almost sharp.
"From the old ranch house in the valley, of course!"
Brooke made an effort to retain his serenity, but his face grew a triflegrim, and he looked at the girl curiously, with his lips tight set. Thenhe made a little gesture.
"But that is where Devine lives when he comes here. It's preposterous!"he said.
Barbara felt astonished, though she was very reposeful. "I really don'tsee why it should be. Mrs. Devine is there. We have to entertain a gooddeal in the city, and are glad to get away to the mountains forquietness occasionally."
"But what connection can you possibly have with Mrs. Devine?"
"I am," said Barbara, quietly, "merely her sister. I have always livedwith her."
Brooke positively gasped. "And you never told me!"
"Why should I? You never asked me, and I fancied everybody knew."
Brooke stood silent a moment, with the fingers of one hand closed, andthe blood in his face, then he turned, as the girl moved, and they wentback along the little rough rail together.
"Of course, I can think of no reason," he said, quietly. "Still, thenews astonished me."
Barbara glanced away from him. There was only one way in which she couldaccount for his evident concern at what she had told him, and thededuction she made was not altogether unpleasant to her, though, as ithappened, it was not the correct one. The man was, as he had told her,without friends or dollars, but she knew that men with his capacities donot always remain poor in that country, and there were qualities whichhad gained her appreciation in him, while it had not dawned on her thatthere might also be others which could only meet with herdisapprobation.
"If you had called at the address I gave you in Vancouver, you wouldhave known exactly who I was, but there is now nothing to prevent youcoming to the ranch," she said.
Brooke glanced down somewhat grimly at his hard, scarred hands and hisclothes, and a faint flush crept into the girl's face.
"Have I to remind you again that you are not in the English valley?" shesaid. "Mr. Devine, at least, is rather proud of the fact that he onceearned his living with the shovel and the drill."
"I am not sure that the one you imagine is my only reason for feeling atrifle diffident about presenting myself at Mr. Devine's house," saidBrooke, very slowly.
Barbara looked at him with a little imperious smile. "I did not ask youfor any at all. I merely suggested that if you wished to come we shouldbe pleased to see you at the ranch."
Brooke made her a little inclination, and said nothing, until, whenanother white-clad figure appeared among the pines, the girl turned tohim.
"That is Mrs. Devine," she said. "Shall I present you?"
Brooke stopped abruptly, with, as the girl noticed once more, a verycurious expression in his face. He meant to use whatever means wereavailable against Devine, but he could not profit by a woman's kindnessto creep into his adversary's house.
"No," he said, almost harshly. "Not to-night. It would be apleasure--another time."
Barbara looked at him with big, grave eyes, and the faintest suggestionof color in her cheek. "Very well," she said. "I need not detain you."
Brooke swung round, and as Mrs. Devine strolled towards them, retiredalmost precipitately into the shadow of the pines, while, when hestopped again, with a curious little laugh, he was distinctly flushed inface.