CHAPTER V
COMRADES OF THE TRAIL
There was no wild stampede to the Big Draw mining camp on ScupperCreek, where gold had been discovered. There had been so many suchreports in the past which proved but flurries, that many of theold-timers became sceptical, and waited for further developments.There were some, however, who were always on the lookout for anythingnew, and the hope of making a strike induced them to hasten away at theleast information of any discovery. These drifted forth in littlegroups by the way of the river and mountain passes. Among such therewere always newcomers, men from the outside, as well as miners who hadleft the country years before.
It was with the latest arrivals that Reynolds made his way into BigDraw. He was accustomed to life in the open, and his recent experienceof camp life in France served him in good stead now. He had justhimself to look after, and, accordingly, he did not need a largeoutfit. He also learned that provisions could be procured at themining camp, where a store had been established. He, therefore, tookwith him only what was absolutely necessary, such as a small tent, afew cooking utensils, a good rifle, and sufficient food to last him forseveral days. A steamer would carry him part of the way, while therest of the journey would be made overland on foot.
After her departure from the dance that night, Reynolds saw nothingmore of Glen. He found that she had left the hotel, but where she hadgone he did not know. He inquired of the clerk, and was answered witha curt "Don't know." He wondered who the Indian could be. Thereseemed to be a mutual understanding between him and the girl, at anyrate, and they must have departed together. During the remainder ofhis stay in town he had wandered about the streets, with the faint hopethat he might again see the girl, or learn something as to herwhereabouts.
Frontier Samson had also disappeared, and no one seemed to knowanything about him. Reynolds did not mind asking about the oldprospector, as it was different from enquiring about Glen. In fact,the girl had become so real to him and such a vital part of his veryexistence that should he speak of her to others he might betray hisdeep concern.
During the voyage down river he thought much about her and tried toimagine who she really was and what had become of her. The idea evensuggested itself that she might be that stolid Indian's wife. Strangethings often happened in the north, so he had read, and this might beone of them. He banished the thought, however, as too ridiculous, andbeyond the bounds of probability.
The voyage was an uneventful one to Reynolds, who kept much to himselfand did not join his companions at cards, which were played day andnight. At times there was considerable roughness, though no shooting.Curly was there, and enjoying himself to his heart's content. Heplayed most of the time, losing and winning in turn. Reynolds oftensat and watched him as he played, wondering where the fellow had firstmet Glen and what he knew about her. He had never spoken to therascal, and had no inclination to do so. But several times glancing upfrom his cards Curly noticed Reynolds' eyes fixed intently upon him.Although he had found out that the quiet, reserved man was not a"parson," yet he knew that he had been with Frontier Samson, and he wascurious to know what the old prospector had told him about his career.His record was so black that he naturally became suspicious until he atlength imagined that the young man with the steady unswerving eyes wasfollowing him north with some special object in view. The idea annoyedhim, although he said nothing, but went on with his game.
It took the little steamer some time to reach her destination, as shehad to buck a heavy current part of the way. When she at length tiedup at the landing where the trail over the mountain began, thepassengers scrambled quickly ashore, and started at once upon theirhard journey, carrying heavy loads upon their backs. With their longtrip of several thousand miles almost at an end, the excitement of thequest increased, and eagerly and feverishly they pressed forward, eachanxious to be the first of the party to reach the mining camp.
But Reynolds was in no hurry. He had not the same incentive as theothers, and so long as his supply of food lasted he was as contented onthe trail as anywhere else. His pack was heavy and the day promised tobe very warm. He preferred to be alone, away from the insipid chatterand profanity of his companions. It would give him an opportunity tothink and to study the beauty of the landscape.
Leaving the landing, he walked along the trail, which in a short timebegan to ascend around the right side of the mountain. Here he stoppedand looked back. The river wound below, and the little steamer waslying at the bank discharging her cargo. It was the last link betweenhim and the great outside world of civilization. In a few hours itwould be gone, and for an instant there came to him the longing to goback and give up his foolish quest. He banished the temptation,however, and plodded steadily on his way. He had never turned backyet, and he was determined that this should not be the first time. Hehad the unaccountable conviction that the lap of the future heldsomething in store for him, and that he would come into his own in duetime.
The higher he climbed the more wonderful became the view. The trailtwisted around the mountain side, and from this vantage ground thesolitary traveller could look forth upon vast reaches of forest andgreat wild meadows far below, with here and there placid lakes,mirroring trees, mountain peaks, and billowy clouds. The voices of hiscompanions had long since died away, and he was alone with the broodingsilence all around, and his own thoughts for company.
At noon he rested under the shade of an old storm-beaten tree, and atehis meagre lunch. This finished, he lighted his pipe and stretchedhimself full length upon the mossy ground. He was feeling morecontented than he had been in many a day. The air was invigorating,and a desire came over him to be up and doing. His old indifference tolife seemed to slip away like a useless and impeding garment, leavinghim free for action. He even thought with pleasure of mingling againin the activities of civilization, and winning for himself a worthyreputation. He would make good in the north, and then go back andsurprise his friend, the editor, and all who knew him.
So strong was this feeling that he sat suddenly up, wondering what hadcome over him to cause the subtle change. "It must be the wild mysteryof this region," he mused. "It is stimulating and impelling. It maybe the spirit of the mountains, and the other grand things of nature.They are carrying out the designs for which they were intended, andperhaps they have silently rebuked me for being a traitor to thehighest that is in me. But I shall show them a thing or two, if I amnot much mistaken."
Springing lightly to his feet, he continued his journey. His step wasmore buoyant, his heart lighter, and the pack seemed less heavy thanwhen he left the river.
He travelled all that afternoon, crossed the summit, and moved swiftlydown the opposite slope. It was easy walking now, and he hoped toreach the valley and there spend the night. He believed that he shouldfind water among that heavy timber ahead of him, and thither he madehis way. Neither was he mistaken, for when his steps at length beganto lag he heard the ripple of water drifting up the trail. As he drewnearer he smelled the smoke of a camp-fire, and the appetizing odor ofroasting meat. "Somebody must be camping there," he mused, "and I mayhave company. I am sorry, but then it can't be helped."
The brook was a small one, shallow, and Reynolds easily sprang across.Gaining the opposite bank, he peered among the trees, and to hissurprise he saw Frontier Samson squatting upon the ground, roasting agrouse over a fire he had previously lighted. The old prospector'sface brightened as the young man approached.
"My, y've been a long time comin'," he accosted. "I thought mebbe ye'dplayed out, tumbled down the side of the mountain, or a grizzly hadgobbled ye up. What in time kept ye so long?"
"And where in the world did you come from?" Reynolds asked in reply, ashe unslung his pack and tossed it aside. "I never expected to meet youhere."
"Ye didn't, eh? Wall, ye never want to be surprised at anything I do.I'm here to-day an' somewhere else to-morrow. I'm allus on the move,rovin' from place to place. It's me nature, I guess."
"A rolling stone gathers no moss, so I've heard. Is that the way withyou?" Reynolds asked, with a twinkle to his eyes.
"I may git no moss, young man, an' not become a fossil like some of thefellers in big cities, but I git a heap of rubbin' with me rollin', an'that keeps me brightened up."
"But how did you get here ahead of me?" Reynolds questioned. "You werenot on the steamer, and I am certain you didn't walk."
Samson drew the grouse from the fire, and examined it critically.Finding it not done to his satisfaction, he thrust it back again.
"Jist hand me that fryin'-pan, will ye?" and he motioned to his left."I want it handy when the bird's cooked. Ye didn't expect to find asupper here to-night, young man, did ye?" and he looked quizzically atReynolds.
"Indeed I didn't," was the emphatic reply.
"Neither did ye imagine that it 'ud be a grouse's bones ye'd bepickin'. Why, it's no tellin' where that bird was three days ago. Itmay have been fifty miles or more away, fer all we know. But it's herenow, isn't it?"
"It looks very much like it," and Reynolds laughed.
"Wall, that's jist the way with many other things. It's allus theunexpected that happens, an' thar are surprises on every trail, asye'll larn if ye haven't done so already. Meetin' me here is one of'em, an' my movements are jist as unsartin an' mysterious as were themof that bird which is now sizzlin' over this fire."
"But with not such an unhappy ending, I hope," and again Reynoldssmiled.
The prospector's eyes twinkled as he drew the bird from the fire, andlaid it carefully in the frying-pan.
"Guess it's done all right this time," he remarked. "Now fer supper.I'm most starved."
Reynolds was hungry, and he did full justice to the meal. Samson hadsome excellent sour-dough bread of which he was very proud.
"Made it last night," he explained, "an' it turned out better'n usual.Thought mebbe I'd have company before long."
"Did you meet the others?" Reynolds asked.
"Oh, yes, I met 'em," Samson chuckled.
"Were they far ahead?"
"Y' bet, an' chatterin' like a bunch of monkeys. Guess they're thar bynow."
"Were they surprised to see you?"
"H'm, they didn't see me. I was settin' under a tree well out ofsight. I didn't want to meet that crowd; they're not to my likin'. Ijist wished to see if Curly was along."
"You seem to be keepin' a sharp eye on that fellow still," Reynoldsremarked. He was anxious to draw the prospector out. Perhaps he mightlearn something about Curly's acquaintance with Glen.
"Yes, I do keep me eyes peeled fer Curly," Samson drawled, as hefinished his supper and pulled out his pipe. "It's necessary, let metell ye that. He ain't safe nohow."
"You have known him for some time, then?"
"Long enough to be suspicious of the skunk."
"He seems to be very friendly with you, though."
"Oh, he's got sense enough not to buck up aginst me. An' besides, I'veyanked him out of many a nasty fix. Most likely he'd been planted longbefore this if I hadn't been around at the right moment."
"He's up here for more than gold, so I understand."
"How did ye larn that, young man?" There was a sharp note in Samson'svoice.
"Oh, I merely overheard your conversation with him in the smoking-roomof the _Northern Light_. That was all, but I drew my own conclusion."
"An' what was that?"
"Nothing very definite. I simply inferred that he is after a girlsomewhere here in the north, and that she is so guarded by a lion of afather that Curly hasn't much of a chance."
"An' so that's what ye surmised, is it?" the prospector queried.
"Am I right?"
"Guess yer not fer astray."
"Have you seen the girl? Do you know her father?"
"Have I seen the girl? Do I know her father?" the old man slowlyrepeated. "Yes, I believe I've seen her, all right. But as ferknowin' her father, wall, that's a different thing. Frontier Samsondoesn't pretend to know Jim Weston; he never did."
"Weston, did you say?" Reynolds eagerly asked.
"That's what I said, young man. The name seems to interest ye."
"It does. When I registered at the hotel in Whitehorse, the name justbefore mine was 'Glen Weston,' and the girl who wrote it came north onthe _Northern Light_. Do you suppose she is Jim Weston's daughter?"
"She might be," was the somewhat slow reply. "As I told ye before,it's ginerally the unexpected that happens. Anyway, ye can't tell muchby names these days."
"But Curly knows her, for I saw them together at a dance the night Iarrived in town."
"Ye did!" The prospector took his pipe from his mouth and stared hardat Reynolds. "Are ye sure?"
"Positive. Why, I was standing at the door watching the dance, when Isaw the two together upon the floor. Later they came over and sat downquite close to me. Curly did most of the talking, and the girl seemedquite uneasy. She left shortly after with a fine-looking Indian, whohad evidently come for her. I have not seen her since."
"So Curly was dancin' with her," Samson mused. "Then she must be JimWeston's gal. I wonder what the old man'll say when he hears about it?"
"How will he know?"
"Oh, he'll find out, all right. There's nuthin' that misses him herein the north."
"What will he do to Curly?"
"I wouldn't like to say at present. That remains to be seen."
"Is this Jim Weston a desperate character?"
"The ones who have tried to fool with him say he is, an' I guess theyought to know. He's a holy terror when he gits goin', 'specially whenanyone's after that lass of his."
"The men up here all know about her, I suppose?"
"Should say so. They're about crazy over her. She's been the cause ofmany a row, an' several shootin' rackets."
"Does she favor anyone?"
"Not as fer as I know. She's in a class all by her lonesome, an' wellable to take care of herself. She's not anxious fer lovers, so Iunderstand, at least, not the brand ye find up here. She's some lass,all right, an' whoever succeeds in winnin' her'll be a mighty luckychap."
"What does her father do? Is he a miner?"
"It's jist hard to tell what Jim Weston does an' what he doesn't do.No one seems to know fer sartin. He lives like a lord on Big Lake, wayover yonder," and Samson motioned to the east. "All the folks knowthat he lives thar with his lass, guarded by a hull pack of Injuns.But what he does an' what he doesn't do is a mighty problem."
"His daughter travels, though, and alone at that, doesn't she?"Reynolds queried.
"Occasionally. Jim's givin' her an eddication, so I hear. She must becomin' back now, as this is vacation time."
"But what happened to her, do you suppose, after the dance that night?"Reynolds asked. "She disappeared as if by magic, and I believe the bigIndian had something to do with it."
"How d'ye know she disappeared?" was the sudden and somewhatembarrassing question.
Reynolds laughed, and his face flushed. He knew that he had betrayedhimself, and that the prospector noted his confusion.
"Oh, I didn't notice her in town," he explained, "and I saw by theregister that she had left the hotel."
"So you're interested in her, too, are ye, young man?"
"I certainly am," was the candid confession. "From the moment that Ifirst saw her at a street crossing in Vancouver she has been hardly outof my mind. I never saw any girl who affected me so much, and she isthe reason why I am here now."
"Ye don't tell!" Samson tapped the ashes out of his pipe, and thenstretched himself full length upon the ground. "Make a clean breast ofit, young man," he encouraged. "I'm an old hardened chap meself, but Ido like to hear a real interestin' heart-story once in a while. I gitsick an' disgusted listenin' to brutes on two legs, callin' themselvesmen when they talk about women. But when it comes to a clean youngfeller, sich as I take you to be, tellin' of his heart-stroke, thenit's different, an
' I'm allus pleased to listen."
And make a clean breast of it Reynolds did. He was surprised athimself for talking so freely as he told about his indifference to lifeuntil he first saw Glen Weston. It was easy to talk there in thesilence of the great forest, with the shadows of evening closing aroundand such a sympathetic listener nearby. He felt better when his storywas ended, for he had shared his heart feeling with one worthy of hisconfidence, so he believed.
Frontier Samson remained silent for a few minutes after the confessionhad been concluded.. He looked straight before him off among the treesas if he saw something there. Reynolds wondered what he was thinkingabout, and whether he considered him a fool for becoming so infatuatedover a mere girl.
"I must seem ridiculous to you," he at length remarked. "Would any manin his senses act as I have?"
"Ye might do worse," was the quiet reply. "I am sartinly interested inwhat ye've jist told me, an' I thank ye fer yer confidence. Me ownheart was stirred once, an' the feelin' ain't altogether left me yit.But ye've got a difficult problem ahead of ye, young man. Ye want thatlass, so I believe, but between you an' her stands Jim Weston."
"And the girl, why don't you say?"
"Sure, sure; she's to be considered. But a gal kin be won when shetakes a fancy to a man of your make-up. The trouble'll be with herdad, an' don't fergit that. But thar, I guess we've talked enoughabout this fer the present. I'm dead beat an' want some sleep. Wemust be away early in the mornin', remember."
"What! are you going my way?" Reynolds eagerly asked.
"Sure; if ye'd like to have me along. I'm bound fer Big Draw meself."
It was just what Reynolds desired. He liked the old prospector, andnow that he had confided to him his tale of love, he was drawn closerthan ever to this wandering veteran of the trails.