XVI.
BARBARA'S RESPONSIBILITY.
Darkness had closed down outside, and the lamp was lighted in Devine'soffice, which occupied a projection of the wooden ranch. Behind it stoodthe kitchen, and a short corridor, which gave access to both, led backfrom its inner door to the main building. Another door opened directlyon to the clearing, and a grove of willows, past which the trail led,crept close up to it, so that any one standing among them could see intothe room. There was, however, little probability of that happening, fornobody lived in that stretch of forest, except the miners, whose shantystood almost a mile away. Devine sat opposite the captain of the mineacross the little table, and he had let his cigar go out, while his facewas a trifle grim.
"The last clean-up was not particularly encouraging, Tom," he said.
Wilkins nodded, and there was a trace of concern in his face, which wasseamed and rugged, for he was one of the old-time prospectors, who,trusting solely to their practical acquaintance with the rocks, hadplayed a leading part in the development of the mineral resources ofthat province.
"The trouble is that the next one's going to be worse," he said. "Thepay-dirt's getting scarcer as we cut further in, and I have a notionthat the boys are beginning to notice it now and then, though there'snot a man in the crowd who would make his grub prospecting. They'reroad-makers, most of them."
Devine glanced at the little leather-bound book he held, in which wasentered the net yield of gold from the ore the stamps crushed down, andnoted the steady decrease.
"It's quite plain to me that the vein is working out," he said. "Itremains to be seen whether we'll strike better rock with the adit on thedifferent level. I don't notice very many signs of that yet."
Wilkins shook his head. "I guess I haven't seen any for a week, andwe're spending quite a pile of dollars trying to hold the hillside up.The signs were all on top," he said. "There are ranges where you canstrike it just as sure and easy as falling off a log, but I guesssomething long ago shook these mountains up, and mixed up all the rock.There's only one man figures he knows how it was done, and he won't talkabout it when he's sensible."
"Allonby, of the Dayspring!" said Devine. "Now, the last time we worriedabout the thing you told me you considered our chances good enough toput your savings in. Would you feel like doing it to-day? I want theinformation, not the dollars. You know it's generally wisest to bestraight with me."
"No, sir," said Wilkins, drily, "I wouldn't."
Devine sat thoughtfully silent for a minute or two, and the captain, wholighted his cigar again, wondered what was in his mind. He felttolerably certain there was, as usual, a good deal, and that somethingwould result from it presently.
"You went through the Dayspring?" Devine said, at length.
"I did. So far as I can figure, it's a mine that will make its living,and nothing worth while more. 'Bout two or three cents on the dollar."
"Allonby thinks more of it."
A little incredulous smile crept into the captain's eyes. "When he hasgot most of a bottle of rye whisky into him! Allonby's a skin."
"Well," said Devine, "I'm going over to talk to him, and I needn't keepyou any longer in the meanwhile. You will remember that only you and Ihave got to know what the Canopus is really doing."
The captain's smile was very expressive as he went out, but when thedoor closed behind him Devine sat still with wrinkled forehead andthoughtful eyes while half an hour slipped by. He was, however, notaddicted to purposeless reflections, and the results of his cogitationsas a rule became apparent in due time. He cheerfully took risks, orchances, as he called them, which the average English business manwould have shrunk from, for the leaders of the Pacific Slope'sactivities have no time for caution. Life is too short, they tell one,to make sure of everything, and it is, in point of fact, notparticularly long in case of most of them, for there is a significantscarcity of old men. Like the rest, he staked his dollars boldly, andwhen he lost them, which happened now and then, accepted it as what wasto be expected, and usually recouped himself on another deal.
That was why he had bought the Canopus under somewhat peculiarcircumstances, and extended the workings without concerning himselfgreatly as to whether every stipulation of the Crown mining regulationshad been complied with, until the mine proved profitable, when it hadappeared advisable not to court inquiry, which might result in the claimbeing jumped by applying for corrected records. It also explained thefact that although he had no safe at the ranch, he had brought up allthe plans and papers relating to it from his Vancouver office, and keptthem merely covered by certain dusty books. Nobody who might feel anillegitimate interest in them would, he argued, expect to find themthere.
While he sat there the inner door opened softly, and Barbara, who camein noiselessly, laid a hand upon his shoulder. Devine had not, as ithappened, heard her, but it was significant that he did not start atall, and only turned his head a trifle more quickly than usual. Then helooked up at her quietly.
"Are you never astonished or put out?" she said. "You didn't expect me?"
Devine smiled a little. "Well," he said, "I don't think I often am. Thelast time I remember, a cinnamon bear ran me up a tree. What broughtyou, anyway?"
"It's getting late," and Barbara sat down. "You have been here two hoursalready. Now, of course, you show very little sign of it, but I can'thelp a fancy that you have been worrying over something the last day ortwo. I suppose one could scarcely expect you to take me into yourconfidence."
"The thing's not big enough to worry over, but I have been thinkingsome. We have struck no gold in the adit, and now when we're waiting forthe props the Englishman has dropped the rope into the canyon. Thatlittle contract is going to cost him considerable."
Barbara wondered whether he had any particular reason for watching her,or if she only fancied that his gaze was a trifle more observant thanusual.
"Still, I think he will get a rope across," she said.
"Oh, yes," said Devine, indifferently. "There's grit in him. A curiouskind of man. Wouldn't take a good offer to work for me, and yet hejumped right at those contracts. He's going to find it hard to makethem pay his grocery bill. I guess he hasn't told you anything?"
"No," said Barbara, a trifle hastily, for once more she felt the keeneyes scan her face. "Of course not. Why should he?"
Devine smiled. "If you don't know any reason you needn't ask me. Youcan't make a Britisher talk, anyway, unless he wants to."
He made a little gesture as though to indicate that the subject was notworth discussing, and then, taking up a bundle of documents, turned toher again.
"You see those papers, Bab? They're plans and Crown patents for themine. I'm going away to-morrow, and can't take them along, so I'll putthem under that pile of old books yonder. Now, if I was to tell Katty tomake sure the doors were fast she'd get worrying, but you have betternerves, and I'll ask you to see that nobody gets in here until I comeback again. Nobody's likely to want to, but I'll put a screw in thewindow, and give you the key."
Barbara laughed. "I shall not be afraid. Are the papers valuable?"
"No," said Devine, with a trace of dryness. "Not exactly! In fact, I'mnot quite sure they would be worth anything to anybody in a month ortwo. Still, the man who got hold of them in the meanwhile might fancy hecould make trouble for me."
"How?" said Barbara. "You said they mightn't be much use to anybody."
Devine smiled a little, but it was evident that he had considerableconfidence in the discretion of his wife's sister.
"I can't explain part of it," he said. "When I took hold of the Canopus,it didn't seem likely to pay me for my trouble, and I didn't worry aboutthe patents or how far they covered what I was doing. Now, if you drivebeyond the frontage you've made your claim on, it constitutes anothermine, which isn't covered by your record and belongs to the Crown. It'sopen to any jumper who comes along. Besides, unless you do a good manythings exactly as the law lays down, your patent mayn't hold good, andany one who knows the
regulations can re-record the claim."
"That means you or the previous owner neglected one or two formalities,and an unscrupulous person who found it out from those papers could takethe Canopus, or part of it, away from you?"
Devine smiled grimly. "Yes," he said. "That is, he might try."
"I understand," said Barbara. "Still, there are no strangers here, and Idon't think you have a man who would attempt anything of that kind aboutthe mine."
"Or at the canyon?"
Barbara was sensible of a curious little thrill of anger, for Brookewas at the canyon, but she looked at him steadily.
"No," she said. "I am quite sure that is the last thing one would expectfrom anybody at the canyon, but if we stay here Katty will be wonderingwhat has become of me."
Devine rose and followed her out of the room, and in another half-hourthe ranch was in darkness. He rode away early next morning, and the big,empty living-room seemed lonely to the two women who sat by the windowwhen night drew in again. The evening was very still and clear, and thechill of the snow was in the motionless air. No sound but the distantroar of the river broke the silence, and when the white line of snowgrew dimmer high up in the dusky blue, and the pines across the clearingfaded to a blur of shadow, Mrs. Devine shivered a little.
"I suppose quietness is good for one, if only because it isn't verynice, but it gets a trifle depressing now and then," she said. "Whydidn't you ask Mr. Brooke to come across?"
"You may have noticed that he never comes when my brother-in-law is nothere, and then he brings drawings or estimates of some kind with him."
Mrs. Devine appeared reflective. "Grant has not been away for almost twoweeks now, and it is quite that time since we have seen Mr. Brooke," shesaid. "Didn't we ask him to come when you had Minnie here?"
"You did," said Barbara, with a faint flush, which the shadows hid. "Heasked me to excuse him."
"Because Grant was away?"
"No," said Barbara, drily. "That, at least, was not the reason he gaveme. He said he was--too tired."
Mrs. Devine laughed, for she had noticed the hardness in her sister'svoice.
"It really must have been exasperating. He should have thought of abetter excuse," she said. "You have only to hold up a finger atVancouver, and they all flock round, eager to do a good deal more thanyou wish them to, while this flume-builder doesn't seem to understandwhat is implied by a royal invitation. No doubt you will find a way ofmaking him realize his contumacy."
"I am almost afraid I shall not have the opportunity."
"And you can't very well attempt to make one, especially as I remembernow that Grant told me he was very hard at work at the canyon. It wouldbe even worse to be told he was too busy, since that implies that onehas something better to do."
Barbara had a spice of temper, as her sister naturally knew, but shesmiled at this, for she was unwilling to admit, even to herself, andmuch less to anybody else, that she felt the slightest irritation at thefact that Brooke had shown no eagerness to avail himself of theinvitation she had given him. Still, she was, on this score, very farfrom feeling pleased with him.
"I dare say he has," she said.
"Then he is, at least, not doing it very successfully. The rope--Iforgot how much Grant said it cost--fell into the canyon."
"I am not very sure there are many men who would have attempted to put arope across at all," said Barbara, and did not realize for a moment thatshe had, to some extent, betrayed herself. She might, though she did notadmit it, feel displeased with the flume-builder herself, but that wasno reason why she should permit another person to disparage hiscapabilities, all of which her sister was probably acquainted with.
"Well," she said, indifferently, "we hope he will be successful. The manpleases me, but I would very much like to know what Grant thinks abouthim."
"Then why don't you ask him?"
Mrs. Devine shook her head. "Grant never tells anybody his opinionsuntil he's tolerably sure he's right, and I fancy he is a littleundecided about Mr. Brooke as yet," she said. "Still, it's gettingshivery, and this silence is a trifle eerie. I'm going to bed."
She lighted a lamp, but when she went out Barbara made her way to herroom without one. There was nobody else beyond Wilkins' wife in theranch, and she had retired some time ago. The rambling wooden buildingwas not dark, but dusky, with black depths of shadow in the corners ofthe rooms, for the dim crepuscular light would, at that season, lingeralmost until the dawn. To some natures it would also have been moresuggestive of hidden dangers than impenetrable obscurity, but Barbarapassed up the rickety stairway and down an echoing passage fearlessly,and then sat down by the open window of her room, looking out into thenight. A half-moon was now slowly lifting itself above thefaintly-gleaming snow, and she could see the pines roll away in sombrebattalions into the drifting mists below. Their sleep-giving fragrancereached her through the dew-cooled air, but she scarcely noticed it asshe lay with her low basket-chair drawn close up to the window-sill.
It was the flume-builder her thoughts hovered round, and she endeavoredfruitlessly to define the attraction he had for her, or, as shepreferred to consider it, the reason for the interest she felt in him.She admitted that this existed, and wondered vaguely how much of it wasdue to vanity resulting from a recognition of the fact that it was shewho had roused him from a state of too acquiescent lethargy. What shehad seen at the Quatomac ranch had had its significance for her, and shehad realized the hopelessness of the life he was leading there. Even ifshe had not done so, he had told her, more or less plainly, that it wasshe who had given him new aspirations, and re-awakened his sense ofresponsibility. That, perhaps, accounted for a good deal, since she wasendued with the compassionate maternal instinct which, when it finds nonatural outlet, prompts many women to encourage, and on opportunity,shelter the beaten down and fallen.
It was, however, evident that the flume-builder did not exactly comeunder that category. Indeed, of late, his daring and pertinacity had wonher admiration as well as sympathy, and that led her to the questionwhat his aspirations pointed to. She would not consider it, for thefashion in which she had once or twice felt his eyes dwell upon her facewas, in that connection, almost unpleasantly suggestive. Then shewondered why the fact that he had not long ago excused himself fromspending an evening in her company at the ranch should have hurt her, asshe now almost admitted that it did. It was, she decided, not exactlydue to pique or wounded vanity, for, though very human in many respects,she, at least, considered herself too strong for either. That, however,brought her no nearer any answer which commended itself to her.
The man was less brilliant than several she had met. She could not evenbe sure that there were not grave defects in his character, and he was,in the meanwhile, a mere flume-builder. Yet he was different from thoseother men, though, since the difference was by no means altogether inhis favor, it was almost irritating that her thoughts should dwell uponhim, to the exclusion of the rest. There was presumably a reason forthis, but she made a little impatient movement, and resolutely put asidethe subject as one suggested itself. It was, she decided, altogetheruntenable, and, in fact, preposterous.
Still, she felt far from sleepy, and sat still, shivering a little nowand then, while the moon rose higher above the snow, until its faintlight drove back the shadows from the swamp. The clustering pines shookoff their duskiness, and grew into definite tracery; an owl that hootedeerily flitted by on soundless wing, and she felt the silence becomesuddenly almost overwhelming. There was no wind that she could feel, butshe could hear the little willow leaves stirring, it seemed, beneath thecooling dew, for the sound had scarcely strength enough to make atangible impression upon her senses. It, however, appeared to grow atrifle louder, and she found herself listening with strained attentionwhen it ceased awhile, until it rose again, a trifle more clearly. Sheglanced at the cedars above the clearing, but they stood sombre andmotionless in silent ranks, and she leaned forward in her chair withheart beating more rapidly than usual as she won
dered what made thoseleaves move. They were certainly rustling now, while the ranch was verysilent, and the rest of the clearing altogether still.
Then a shadow detached itself from the rest, and its contour did notsuggest that of a slender tree. It increased in length, and, rememberingDevine's papers, she rose with a little gasp. Her sister, as he hadpointed out, had delicate nerves, Mrs. Wilkins was dull of hearing, and,as the men's shanty stood almost a mile away, it was evident that shemust depend upon her own resources. She stood still, quivering a little,for almost a minute, and then with difficulty repressed a cry when thedim figure of a man appeared in the clearing. Two minutes later sheslipped softly into the room where Katty Devine lay asleep, and opened acupboard set apart for her husband's use, while, when she flitted acrossthe stream of radiance that shone in through the window, she held anobject, that gleamed with a metallic lustre, clenched in one hand.