XI.
AN EMBARRASSING POSITION.
The wooden conduit which sprang across a gorge just there on a slendertrestle was full to the brim, and Brooke, who leaned on his long hammershaft, watched the crystal water swirl by with a satisfaction which wasdistinctly new to him, while the roar it made as it plunged down intothe valley from the end of the uncompleted flume came throbbing acrossthe pines. Though it was a very crude piece of engineering, that trestlehad cost him hours of anxious thought and days of strenuous labor, andnow, standing above it, very wet and somewhat ragged, with hands as hardas a navvy's, he surveyed it with a pride which was scarcely warrantedby its appearance. It was, however, the creation of his hands and brain,and evidently capable of doing its work effectively.
Then he smiled somewhat curiously as he remembered with what purpose hehad taken over the contract to build the flume from its original holder,and, turning abruptly away, walked along it until he stopped where thetorrent that fed it swirled round a pool. The latter had rapidlylowered its level since the big sluice was opened, and he stood lookingat it intently while a project, which involved a fresh struggle withhard rock and forest, dawned upon him. He had gained his firstpractically useful triumph over savage Nature, and it had filled himwith a desire he had never supposed himself capable of for a renewal ofthe conflict. A little sparkle came into his eyes, and he stood withhead flung back a trifle and his corded arms uncovered to the elbow,busy with rough calculations, and once more oblivious of the fact thathe was only there to play his part in a conspiracy, until a man withgrey in his hair came out of the shadow of the pines.
"I came up along the flume and she's wasting very little water," hesaid. "Not a trickle from the trestle! It would 'most carry a wagon. Youmust have spent quite a pile of dollars over it."
Brooke smiled a trifle drily, for that was a point he had overlookeduntil the cost had been sharply impressed upon him.
"I'm afraid I did, Mr. Devine," he said. "Still, I couldn't see how toget the work done more cheaply without taking the risk of the flumesettling a little by and by. That would, of course, have started itleaking. What do you think of it?"
Devine smiled as he noticed his eagerness. "It seems to me that riskwould have been mine," he said. "I've seen neater work, but not verymuch that looked like lasting longer. Who gave you the plan of it?"
"Nobody," said Brooke, with a trace of the pride he could not quiterepress. "I worried it out myself. You see, I once or twice gave thecarpenters a hand at stiffening the railroad trestles."
Devine nodded, and flashed a keen glance at him as he said, "What areyou looking at that pool for?"
Brooke stood silent a moment or two. "Well," he said, diffidently, "itoccurred to me that when there was frost on the high peaks you mighthave some difficulty in getting enough water to feed the flume. You cansee how the pool has run down already. Now, with a hundred tons or so ofrock and debris and a log framing, one could contrive a very workabledam. It would ensure you a full supply and equalize the pressure."
"You feel equal to putting the thing through?"
"I would at least very much like to try."
Devine regarded him thoughtfully. "Then you can let me have yournotions."
Brooke unfolded his crude scheme, and the other man watched him keenlyuntil he said, "If that meets with your approbation I could start two ofmy men getting out the logs almost immediately."
Devine smiled. "Has it struck you that there is a point you haveforgotten?"
"It is quite possible there are a good many."
"You can't think of one that's important in particular?"
"No," said Brooke, reflectively, "not just now."
A little sardonic twinkle crept into Devine's eyes. "Well," he said,"before I took hold of any contract of that kind I would like to knowjust how much I was going to make on it, and what it would cost me."
Brooke looked at him and laughed. "Of course!" he said. "Still, I neverthought of it until this moment."
"It's quite clear you weren't raised in Canada," said Devine. "You canworry out the thing during the afternoon and bring along any rough planyou'd like to show me to the ranch this evening. That's fixed? Thenthere's another thing. Has anybody tried to stop you getting outlumber?"
"No," said Brooke. "I met two men who appeared to be timber-rightprospectors more than once, but they made no difficulty."
Devine, who seemed a trifle astonished, looked at him curiously beforehe turned away. "Then," he said drily, "you are more fortunate than Iam."
Brooke went back to his work, and supper had been cleared away in hisdouble tent when he completed his simple toilet, which had commencedwith a plunge into a whirling pool of the snow-fed river, preparatory tohis visit to the ranch. Jimmy, who had assisted in it, stood surveyinghim complacently.
"Now," he said, with a nod of approbation, "I guess you'll do when I'verun a few stitches up the back of you. Stand quite still while I get thetent needle."
Brooke glanced at the implement he produced somewhat dubiously, for itwas of considerable thickness and several inches long.
"I suppose," he said, resignedly, "you haven't got a smaller one?"
Jimmy shook his head. "I guess I wouldn't trust it if I had," he said."I want to fix that darn up good and strong so it will do you credit.There are two women at the ranch, and it's quite likely they'll come inand talk to you."
Brooke made no further protest, but he smiled somewhat curiously asJimmy stitched away. His work was not remarkable for neatness, andBrooke remembered that the two women at the ranch were fresh from thecities, where men do not mend their clothes with pieces of tents orcotton flour bags. Then he decided that, after all, it did not matterwhat they thought of him. One would probably set him down as a rude bushchopper, and the other, whose good opinion he would have valued underdifferent circumstances, was a kinswoman of his adversary. Sooner orlater she would know him for what he was, and then it was clear shewould only have contempt for him. That she of all women should be Mrs.Devine's sister was, he reflected with a sense of impotent anger, oneof the grim jests that Fate seemed to delight in playing.
"Now," said Jimmy, breaking off his thread at last, "I guess you mightgo 'most anywhere if you stand with your face to the folks who talk toyou, and don't sit down too suddenly. Be cautious how you get up againif you hear those stitches tearing through."
Brooke went out, and discovered that Jimmy had, no doubt as aprecautionary measure, sewn several of his garments together as hewalked through the shadowy bush towards the ranch. Devine, to whom thescheme suggested had commended itself, was, as it happened, alreadywaiting him in a big log walled room. He sat by the open window, whichlooked across blue lake and climbing pines towards the great whiteramparts of unmelting snow that shut the valley in. The rest of the roomwas dim, and now the sun had gone, sweet resinous odors and anexhilarating coolness that stirred the blood like wine came in. Twowomen sat back in the shadow, and Devine moved a little in his chair ashe answered one of them.
"I know very little about the man, but I never saw more thorough workthan he has put in on the flume," he said. "That's 'most enoughguarantee for him, but there are one or two points about him I can'tquite worry out the meaning of. For one thing, the timber-rightershaven't stopped him chopping."
Mrs. Devine looked thoughtful, for she was acquainted with the lesspleasant aspect of mine-owning, but Barbara broke in.
"It is a little difficult to understand what use timber-rights would beto anybody here," she said. "They could hardly get their lumber out, andthere are very few people to sell it to if they put up a mill."
"I expect they mean to sell it me," said Devine, a trifle grimly.
"But you always cut what you wanted without asking anybody."
"I did. Still, it seems scarcely likely that I'm going to do it again.If anyone has located timber-rights--which he'd get for 'most nothing ona patent from the Crown--he has never worried about them until theCanopus began to pay. Of course, one has to
put in timber as he takesout the ore, and it seems to have struck somebody that the men whostarted it on the Canopus had burnt off all the young firs they ought tohave kept. That's why he bought those timber-rights up."
"Still there are thousands of them nobody can ever use, and you musthave timber," said Barbara.
"Precisely!" said Devine. "That man figures that when I get it he'sgoing to screw a big share of the profits in this mine out of me."
A portentous sparkle crept into Barbara's eyes, while Mrs. Devine, whoknew her husband best, watched him with a little smile.
"But that is infamous extortion!" said the girl.
Devine laughed. "Well," he said, "it's not going to be good business forthe man who puts up the game, but I don't quite see why he didn't strikeBrooke for a few dollars as well. Men of his kind are like ostriches.They take in 'most anything."
He might have said more, but Brooke appeared in the doorway just thenand stood still with, so Barbara fancied, a faint trace of disconcertionwhen he saw the women, until Devine turned to him.
"Come right in," he said. "Barbara tells me she has met you, but youhaven't seen Mrs. Devine. Mr. Brooke, who is building the new flume forme, Katty."
There was no avoiding the introduction, nor could Brooke escape with aninclination as he wished to do, for the lady held out her hand to him.She was older and more matronly than Barbara, but otherwise very likeher, and she had the same gracious serenity. Still, Brooke felt hischeeks burn beneath the bronze on them as he shook hands with her. Itwas one thing to wrest his dollars back from Devine, but, while hecherished that purpose, quite another to be graciously welcomed to hishouse.
"We are very pleased to see any of Barbara's friends," she said. "Youapparently hadn't an opportunity of calling upon us in Vancouver?"
Brooke glanced at Barbara, who was not exactly pleased with her sisterjust then, and met his gaze a trifle coldly. Still, he was sensible of acurious satisfaction, for it was evident that the girl who had been hiscomrade in the bush had not altogether forgotten him in the city.
"I left the day after Miss Heathcote was kind enough to give mepermission," he said.
He felt that his response might have been amplified, but he was chieflyconscious of a desire to avoid any further civilities then, and becausehe was quite aware that Barbara was watching him quietly, it was arelief when Devine turned to him.
"We'll get down to business," he said. "You brought a plan of the damalong?"
He led the way to the little table at the window, and while Mrs. Devinewent on with her sewing and Barbara took up a book again, Brookeunrolled the plan he had made with some difficulty. Then the mendiscussed it until Devine said, "You can start in when it pleases you,and my clerk will hand you the dollars as soon as you are through. Howlong do you figure it will take you?"
"Three or four months," said Brooke, and looking up saw that the girl'seyes were fixed on him. She turned them away next moment, but he feltthat she had heard him and they would be companions that long.
"Well," said Devine, "it's quite likely we will be up here part, atleast, of the time. Now you'll have to put on more men, and I haven'tforgotten what you admitted the day I drove you in to the settlement.You'll want a good many dollars to pay them."
"If you will give me a written contract, I dare say I can borrow themfrom a bank agent or mortgage broker on the strength of it."
"Oh, yes," said Devine, drily. "It's quite likely you can, but he wouldcharge you a percentage that's going to make a big hole in the profit."
"I'm afraid I haven't any other means of getting the money."
"Well," said Devine, "I rather think you have. In fact, I'll lend it youas the work goes on."
Brooke felt distinctly uncomfortable and sat silent a moment, for thiswas the last thing he had desired or expected.
"I have really no claim on you, sir," he said at length. "In thisprovince payment is very seldom made until the work is done, and quiteoften not until a long while afterwards."
Devine smiled drily. "I guess that is my business. Now is there anyspecial reason you shouldn't borrow those dollars from me?"
Brooke felt that there was a very good one, but it was one he could notwell make plain to Devine. He was troubled by an unpleasant sense ofmeanness already, and felt that it would be almost insufferable to havea kindness thrust upon him by his companion. He was, though he would notlook at her, also sensible that Barbara Heathcote was watching himcovertly, and decided that what he and Devine had said had beenperfectly audible in the silent room.
"I would, at least, prefer to grapple with the financial difficulty inmy own way, sir," he said.
Devine made a little gesture of indifference. "Then, if you should wanta few dollars at any time you know where to come for them. Now, I guesswe're through with the business and you can talk to Mrs. Devine--who hasbeen there--about the Old Country."
Brooke did so, and after the first few minutes, which were distinctlyunpleasant to him, managed to forget the purpose which had brought himto the ranch. His hostess was quietly kind, and evidently a lady who hadappreciated and was pleased to talk about what she had seen in England,which was, as it happened, a good deal. Brooke also knew how to listen,and now and then a curious little smile crept into his eyes as shedilated on scenes and functions which were very familiar to him. It wasevident that she never for a moment supposed that the man who satlistening to her somewhat stiffly, from reasons connected with Jimmy'srepairs to his clothes, could have taken a part in them, but he wasonce or twice almost embarrassed when Barbara, who seemed to take hiscomprehension for granted, broke in.
In the meanwhile a miner came for Devine, who went out with him, and byand by Mrs. Devine, making her household duties an excuse, also left theroom. Then Barbara smiled a little as she turned to Brooke.
"I wonder," she said, quietly, "why you were so unwilling to meet mysister? There is really no reason why anybody should be afraid of her."
Brooke was glad that the dimness which was creeping across the valleyhad deepened the shadow in the room, for he was not anxious that thegirl should see his face just then.
"You assume that I was unwilling?" he said.
"It was evident, though I am not quite sure that Mrs. Devine noticedit."
Brooke saw that an answer was expected from him. "Well," he said, "Mrs.Devine is a lady of station, and I am, you see, merely the builder ofone of her husband's flumes. One naturally does not care to presume, andit takes some little time to get accustomed to the fact that theselittle distinctions are not remembered in this country."
Barbara laughed. "One could get accustomed to a good deal in three orfour years. I scarcely think that was your reason."
"Why?" said Brooke.
"Well," said the girl, reflectively, "the fact is that we do recognizethe distinctions you allude to, though not to the same extent that youdo; but it takes rather longer to acquire certain mannerisms and modesof expressing oneself than it does to learn the use of the axe anddrill. To be more candid, any one can put on a flume-builder's clothes."
"I fancy you are jumping at conclusions. There are hotel waiters in theOld Country who speak much better English than I do."
"It is possible. I am, however, not quite sure that they would make goodflume-builders. Still, we will let that pass, as well as one or twovague admissions you have previously made me. Why wouldn't you take thedollars you needed when Mr. Devine was perfectly willing to lend them toyou?"
"It really isn't usual to make a stranger an advance of that kind," saidBrooke, reflectively. "Besides, I might spend the dollars recklessly,and then break away and leave the work unfinished some day. Everybody issubject to occasional fits of restlessness here."
Barbara laughed. "Pshaw!" she said. "You had a much better reason thanthat. Now I think we were what might be called good comrades in thebush?"
Again Brooke felt a little thrill of pleasure. The girl sat where thedim light that still came in through the open window fell upon her, andshe was ve
ry alluring with the faint smile, which was, nevertheless,curiously expressive, in her eyes.
"Yes," he said, almost grimly, "I had a better reason. I cannot tell youwhat it was, but it may become apparent presently."
Barbara asked no more questions, and while she sat silent, Mrs. Devinecame in with a little dainty silver set on a tray. Maids of any kind,and even Chinese house-boys, are scarce in that country, especially inthe bush, and Brooke realized that it must have been with her own handsshe had prepared the quite unusual meal. Supper is served at six orseven o'clock through most of Canada. Probably the stove was burning,and her task was but a light one, but once more Brooke was sensible of amost unpleasant embarrassment when she smiled at him.
"Barbara and I got used to taking a cup of coffee in the evening when wewere in England," she said. "Talking of the Old Country reminded me ofit. Will you pour it out, Barbara?"
Barbara did so, and Brooke's fingers closed more tightly than wasnecessary on the cup she handed to him, while the cracker he forcedhimself to eat came near choking him. This was absurd sentimentality, hetold himself, but, for all that, he dared scarcely meet the eyes of thelady who had, he realized, prepared that meal out of compliment to him.It was a relief when it was over and he was able to take his leave, but,as it happened, he forgot the plan he had laid down, and Barbara, whonoticed it, overtook him in the log-hall. Devine had not come back yet.
"We shall be here for some little time--in fact, until Mr. Devine hasseen the new adit driven," she said.
Brooke understood that this was tantamount to a general invitation, andsmiled, as she noticed, somewhat wryly.
"I am afraid I shall scarcely venture to come back again," he said."Mrs. Devine is very kind, but still, you see--it really wouldn't befitting."
Then he turned and vanished into the darkness outside, and Barbara wentback to the lighted room with a curious look in her eyes.