XIV.
BROOKE HAS VISITORS.
The afternoon was hot, and the roar of the river in the depths belowemphasized the drowsy stillness of the hillside and climbing bush, whenBrooke stood on the little jutting crag above the canyon. Two hundredfeet above him rose a wall of fissured rock, but a gully, down which thewhite thread of a torrent frothed, split through that grim battlement,and already a winding strip of somewhat perilous pathway had been cutout of and pinned against the side of the chasm. Men with hammers andshovels were busy upon it, and the ringing of the drills broke sharplythrough the deep pulsations of the flood, while several more wereclustered round the foot of an iron column, which rose from the verge ofthe crag, where the rock fell in one tremendous sweep to the dim greenriver.
Close beside it, and overhung by the rock wall, stood Brooke's doubletent, for, absorbed as he had become in the struggle with the naturaldifficulties that must be faced and surmounted at every step, he livedby his work, and when he had risen that morning the sun had not touchedthe dim white ramparts beyond the climbing pines. He was just then,however, not watching his workmen, but looking up the gorge, and alittle thrill of pleasure ran through him when two figures in lightdraperies appeared at the head of it. Then he went up at a pace whichJimmy, who grinned as he watched him, wondered at, and stopped a triflebreathless beside the two women who awaited him above.
"I was almost afraid you would not come," he said. "You are sure youwould care to go down now you have done so?"
Mrs. Devine gazed down into the tremendous depths with something thatsuggested a shiver, but Barbara laughed. "Of course," she said. "Thosemen go up and down with big loads every day, don't they?"
"They have to, and that naturally makes a difference," said Brooke, witha little smile.
"Then we can go down because we wish to, which is, in the case of mostpeople, even a better reason."
Mrs. Devine appeared a trifle uncertain, and her face expressed ratherresignation than any special desire to make the descent, but shepermitted Brooke to assist her down the zig-zag trail, while Barbarafollowed with light, fearless tread. Once they entered the gully, theycould not, however, see the canyon, which, in the elder lady's case, atleast, made the climb considerably easier, and they reached the tentwithout misadventure. The door was triced up to form an outer shelter,and Barbara was a trifle astonished when Brooke signed them to enter.
She had seen how he lived at the ranch, and the squalid discomfort ofthe log room had not been without its significance to her, but there wasa difference now. Nothing stood out of place in that partition of thebig double tent, and from the spruce twigs which lay a soft, springycarpet, on the floor, to the little nickelled clock above her head, allshe saw betokened taste and order. Even the neat folding chairs andtable shone spotlessly, and there was no chip or flaw upon the crockerylaid out upon the latter. There had, it seemed, been a change, of whichall this was but the outward sign, in the man who stood smiling besideher.
"Tea at four o'clock is another English custom you may have becomeaddicted to, and you have had a climb," he said. "Still, I'm afraid Ican't guarantee it. Jimmy does the cooking."
Jimmy, as it happened, came in with a teapot in his hand just then."Well," he said, "I guess I'm considerably smarter at it than my boss.You needn't be bashful, either. I've a kettle that holds most of agallon outside there on the fire, and here's two big tins of fixings wesent for to Vancouver."
Mrs. Devine smiled, but Brooke's face was a trifle grim, as he glancedat his retainer, and Barbara did not look at either of them just then.It was, of course, after all, only a little thing, but she was,nevertheless, gratified that he could think of these trifles in themidst of his activities. She, however, took the white metal teapot,which was burnished brilliantly, from Jimmy, who, in spite of Brooke'swarning glances, still hung about the tent, contemplating her withevident approbation as she passed the cups.
"I guess she does it considerably smarter than Tom Gordon's Bella wouldhave done," he said, with a wicked grin. "Bella had no use for teapotseither. She'd have given it you out of the kettle."
The glance Brooke rewarded him with was almost venomous, for he had seenthe swift inquiry which had flashed into them fade as suddenly out ofBarbara's eyes. She could not well admit the least desire to know whoTom Gordon's Bella was, though she would not have been unwilling to beenlightened. Jimmy, however, beamed upon Mrs. Devine, who had taken upher cup.
"I hope you like it. No smoke on that," he said. "When you use the greentea a smack of the resin goes well as flavoring, especially if it'sbrewed in a coal-oil tin. Now, there's tea they make right where theysell it in Vancouver, but what you've got is different I guess it'sgrown in China, or it ought to be, for the boss he sent me down, andsays he----"
"Isn't it about time you made a start at getting that boulder out?" saidBrooke, drily.
Jimmy retired unwillingly, and Brooke glanced deprecatingly at hisguests. "We have been comrades for several years," he said.
"Of course!" said Mrs. Devine, with a little smile. "Still, I reallydon't think you need be so anxious to hide the fact that you have takensome pains to provide these little dainties for us. It would have beenapparent in any case. We know how men live in the bush."
Brooke made no disclaimer, though a faint trace of color deepened thebronze in his face, for he remembered the six thousand dollars, andwinced under her graciousness. Then they discussed other matters, untilat last Barbara laid aside her cup.
"We came to see the canyon, and how you mean to put the rope across," shesaid.
She glanced at her sister, but Mrs. Devine resolutely shook her head. "Ihave seen quite as much of the canyon as I have any wish to do," shesaid. "Besides, it was not exactly an easy matter getting down here, andI expect it will be considerably worse getting up. You can go with Mr.Brooke, my dear."
They left her in the tent, and five minutes later Brooke led the girl toa seat on a dizzy ledge, from which the rock fell away in one awfulsmooth wall.
"Now," he said quietly, "you can look about you."
Barbara, who had been too occupied in picking her way to notice verymuch as yet, drew in her breath as she gazed down into the tremendouschasm. The sunshine lay warm upon the pine-clad slopes above, but no rayof brightness streamed down into that depth of shadow, and its eeriedimness was thickened by the mist which drifted filmily above theriver's turmoil. Out of it a deep vibratory roar came up, diminished bythe distance, in long pulsations that died far up among the pines insinking waves of sound.
"Oh," she said, with a little gasp, "it's tremendous!"
"A trifle overwhelming!" said Brooke, reflectively, "and yet it getshold of one. There is a difference between it and the English valley youonce mentioned."
Barbara turned to him, with a little gleam in her eyes.
"Of course!" she said. "One is glad there is, since it is typical ofboth countries. You couldn't tame this river and set it gliding smoothlybetween mossy stepping-stones."
"No," said Brooke, "I scarcely think one would wish to if he could. Onefeels it wouldn't be fitting."
"And yet we shall put the power that's in it into harness by and by."
"Without taming it?"
Barbara nodded. "Yes," she said. "If you had ever stood in a Canadianpower house, as I have done once or twice, you would understand. Youcan hear the big dynamos humming in one low, deep note while the littleblue sparks flicker about the shafts. They stand for controlled energy;but the whole place rocks with the whirring of the turbines and thethunder of the water plunging down the shoots. The river that drivesthem does it exulting in its strength. You couldn't fancy it lappingamong the lily leaves in sunlit pools. It hasn't time."
"To have no time for artistic effect is typical of this country, then?"said Brooke.
Barbara smiled. "Yes," she said, "I really think it is. We shall come tothat later, but this, you see, isn't art, but something greater. It'snature untrammelled, and primeval force."
"Then you,
who personify reposefulness, admire force?"
Barbara held her hand up. "When it accomplishes anything I do; butlisten," she said. "That sound isn't the discord of purposeless haste.There's a rhythm in it. It's ordered and stately harmony."
Brooke sat still, watching the little gleam in her brown eyes, until sheturned again to him.
"You are going to put that rope across?" she said.
"I am, at least, going to try. There will, however, be difficulties."
Barbara smiled a little. "There generally are. Still, I think you willget over them." She looked down again at the tremendous gap, and thenmet his eyes in a fashion that sent a thrill through him. "It would beworth while."
"I almost think it would. Still, it is largely a question of dollars,and I have spent a good many with no great result already."
"My brother-in-law will not see you beaten. He would throw in as much asthe mine was worth before he yielded a point to the timber-righters."
Brooke noticed the little hardness in her voice, and the sparkle in hereyes. "If he did, you would evidently sympathize with him?"
"Of course, though it wasn't exactly in that sense I meant it would beworth while. One would naturally sympathize with anybody who was madethe subject of that kind of extortion. If there is anything detestable,it is a conspiracy."
"Still," said Brooke, reflectively, "it is in one sense a perfectlylegitimate transaction."
"Would you consider yourself warranted in scheming to extort money fromany one?"
Brooke did not look at her. "It would, of course, depend--upon, forexample, any right I might consider I had to the money. We will supposethat somebody had robbed me----"
"Then one who has been robbed may steal?"
Brooke made a little deprecatory gesture while the blood crept to hisface. "I'm afraid I have never given any questions of this kind muchconsideration. We were discussing the country."
Barbara laughed. "Of course. I ought to have remembered. You are sohorribly afraid of betraying your sentiments in England that you wouldalmost prefer folks to believe you hadn't any. I am, however, going toventure on dangerous ground again. I think the country is having aneffect on you. You have changed considerably since I met you at theranch."
"It is possible," and Brooke met her gaze with a little smile in hiseyes. "Still, I am not quite sure it was altogether the fault of thecountry."
Barbara looked down at the canyon. "Isn't that a little ambiguous?"
"Well," said Brooke, reflectively, "it is, at least, rather a stretchingof the simile, but I saw you first clothed in white samite, mystic,wonderful, in the midst of a frothing river--and I am not quite surethat you were right when you said it was not a sword you brought me."
Barbara flashed a swift, keen glance at him, though she smiled. "Thenbeware in what quarrel you draw it--if I did. One would expect such agift to be used with honor. It could, however, be legitimately employedagainst timber-righters, claim-jumpers, and all schemers andextortioners of that kind."
She stopped a moment, and looked at him, steadily now. "Do you know thatI am glad you left the ranch?"
"Why?"
"What you are doing now is worth while. You would consider thatpriggishness in England, but it's the truth."
"You mean helping your brother-in-law to get ahead of thetimber-righters?"
"No," said Barbara. "That is not what I mean, though if it is anyconsolation to you, it meets with my approbation, too."
"Then what I was doing before was not worth while?"
"That," said Barbara, with a trace of dryness, "is a question you cananswer best, though I saw no especial evidence of activity of any kind.The question is--Can you do nothing better still? This province needsbig bridges and daringly-built roads."
"I'm afraid not," and Brooke smiled a trifle wryly. "It costs a goodmany dollars to build a big bridge, and it is apparently very difficultfor any man to acquire them so long as he works with his own hands."
"Still, isn't it worth the effort--not exactly for the dollars?"
Brooke looked at her gravely, with a slight hardening of his lips.
"I think it would be in my case," he said. "The difficulty is that Ishould run a heavy risk if the effort was ever made. Now, however, Ihad, perhaps, better show you how far we have got with the tramway."
There was, as it happened, not very much to show, and before half anhour had passed Barbara and Mrs. Devine climbed the steep ascent, whileBrooke returned to redeem the hour spent with them by strenuous toil. Itwas also late that night before he flung aside the sheet of crudedrawings and calculations he was making, and leaned back wearily in hischair. His limbs were aching, and so were his eyes, and he sat stillawhile with them half-closed in a state of dreamy languor. He haddropped a tin shade over the lamp, and the tent was shadowy outside thenarrow strip of radiance. There was no sound from the workmen's bark andcanvas shanty, and the pulsating roar of the canyon broke sharply throughan impressive stillness, until at last there was a faint rattle ofgravel outside that suggested the approach of a cautious foot, andBrooke straightened himself suddenly as a man came into the tent. Hisface was invisible until he sat down within the range of light, and thenBrooke started a little.
"Saxton!" he said.
Saxton laughed, and flung down his big hat. "Precisely!" he said. "Thereare camps in the province I wouldn't have cared to come into like this.It wouldn't be healthy for me, but in this case it seemed advisable toget here without anybody seeing me. Left my horse two hours ago atTomlinson's ranch."
"It was something special brought you so far on foot?"
"Yes," said Saxton, "I guess it was. I came along to see what in thename of thunder you were doing here so long."
"I was building Devine a dam, and I am now stretching a rope across thecanyon to bring his mine props over."
Saxton straightened himself, and stared at him, with blank astonishmentin his face.
"I want to understand," he said. "You are putting him a rope across tobring props over with?"
"Yes," said Brooke. "Is there anything very extraordinary in that?"
Saxton laughed harshly. "Under the circumstances, I guess there is. Doyou know who's stopping him cutting all the props he wants right behindthe mine?"
"No," said Brooke, drily. "Devine doesn't either, which I fancy isprobably as well for the man. The one who holds the rights is, Iunderstand, only the dummy."
"Then I'll tell you right now. It's me."
Brooke started visibly, and then laid a firm restraint upon himself. "Iwarned you against leaving me in the dark."
Saxton slammed his hand down on the table. "Well," he said, "who wouldhave figured on your taking up that contract? What in the name ofthunder do you want to build his slingway for?"
Brooke sat thoughtfully silent for a moment or two. "To tell the truth,I'm not quite sure I know. The thing, you see, got hold of me."
"You don't know!" and Saxton laughed again, unpleasantly. "It's no greatwonder they were glad to send you out here from the Old Country. Thelast thing I counted on was that my partner would spoil my game. You'llhave to stop it right away."
Brooke closed his eyes a trifle, and looked at him. "No," he said. "Thatis precisely what can't be done."
There was no anger in his voice, and he made no particular display ofresolution, but Saxton seemed to realize that this decision wasdefinite. He sat fuming for a space, and then made a little emphaticgesture, which expressed complete bewilderment as well as desperation.Still, even then, he was quick enough of wit to make no futile protest,for there are occasions when the quiet inertia of the insularEnglishman, who has made up his mind, is more than a match for thenervous impatience of the Westerner.
"Well," he said again, as though it was the only thing that occurred tohim, "what did you do it for?"
Brooke smiled quietly. "As I told you not long ago, I really don'tknow."
"Then I guess there's nobody could size you up, and put you in thegrade you belong to. You wouldn't take De
vine's dollars when he wantedto hire you, and now you're building flumes and dams for him. I can'tsee any difference. There's no sense in it."
"I'm afraid there is really very little myself. It's rather likesplitting hairs, isn't it? Still, there is, at least, what one mightcall a distinction. You see, I took over another man's contract, andwhat I'm doing now doesn't make it necessary for Devine to favor me withhis confidence."
Saxton shook his head in a fashion that suggested he considered hiscomrade's case hopeless. "And it's just his confidence we want!" hesaid. "You don't seem able to get hold of the fact that you can't makevery many dollars and keep your high-toned notions at the same time. Thething's out of the question. Now, I once heard a lecture on the NewEngland States long ago, and pieces of it stuck to me. There were two orthree of the hard old Puritans made their little pile cuttingFrenchmen's and Spaniards' throats in the Gulf of Mexico, and builtmeeting-houses when they came home and settled down. Still, they hadsense enough to see that what was the correct thing among the Quakersand Baptists of New England was quite out of place on the CaribbeanSea."
Brooke felt that there was truth in this, but he meant, at least, tocling to the distinction, even though he disregarded the difference,and Saxton seemed to realize it.
"Well," he said resignedly, "we may do something with that prop slingwhen we jump the claim. How are you getting on about the mine?"
"In point of fact, I'm not getting on at all. Each time I try to saunterinto the workings, I am civilly turned out again. Devine, it seems, willnot even let the few men who work on top in."
Saxton appeared to reflect. "Now, I wonder why," he said. "He's toosmart to do anything without a reason, and he's not afraid of you, orhe'd never have had you round the place. Still, you'll have to get holdof the facts we want before we can do anything, and I'm not quite surewhat use I'll make of those timber-rights in the meanwhile. They cost mequite a few dollars, and it may be a while yet before anybody takes themfrom me. Building that slingway isn't quite what I expected from Devineafter buying up forests to oblige him."
"Well, I will do what I can, but I wish Devine would give me thosedollars back of his own accord. I'm almost commencing to like the man."
Saxton shook his head. "You can't afford to consider a point of thatkind when it's against your business," he said. "Anyway, if you can giveme a blanket or two, I'll get some sleep now. I have to be on the trailagain by sun-up."
Brooke gave him his own spruce-twig couch, and made him breakfast inthe chilly dawn on a kerosene stove, and then was sensible of a curiousrelief as his confederate vanished into the filmy mists which drifteddown the gorge.