Just then Leger appeared, carrying a fishing-rod which Ingleby had laboriously fashioned out of a straight fir branch. He had also a string of trout, but was apparently dripping below the knees and somewhat disconsolate. The trout were dressed ready, and he laid two or three of them in the pan, and then sat down upon one of the hearth logs.
"I expect that"s the last we"ll get," he said.
"You haven"t whipped those flies off?" said Ingleby.
Leger nodded ruefully. "I"m afraid I have," he said. "At least, I let them sink in an eddy and hooked a boulder. It comes to very much the same thing."
Hetty laughed as she saw Ingleby"s face. "Perhaps I"d better go away,"
she said. "Aren"t there times when it hurts you to be quiet?"
"There are," said Ingleby drily. "This is one of them."
"Well," said Hetty, "you can talk when you break out. I heard you one night in the car--but we"ll get supper, and then if you"re very good I"ll show you something."
She stirred the fire, and laid out the inevitable dried apples and a loaf of bread which was not exactly of the kind somewhat aptly termed grindstone in that country. Then when the edge of their hunger was blunted she took out a very diminutive fluffy object and handed it to Ingleby.
"I wonder if the trout would be silly enough to jump at that," she said.
"It"s a little plumper than the other ones, but I hadn"t any silk to tie it with."
Ingleby stared at the fly in blank astonishment, and then gravely pa.s.sed it to Leger.
"Look at that, and be thankful you have a sister," he said.
"I am," said Leger with a little smile, though something in his voice suggested that he meant it. "But whatever did you make it out of, Hetty?"
"Strips of frayed-out cloth, the blue grouse"s feathers, and the very little threads there are in a piece of cotton when you unwind it."
"The tail was never made of feathers or cotton," said Ingleby. "No more was this wing hackle. That"s quite sure. Look at it, Tom. You"ll notice the bright colour."
Hetty unwisely s.n.a.t.c.hed at the fly, but Leger"s hand closed upon it, and a moment or two later he laughed softly. "It certainly won"t come out in the water, and that is presumably more than could be said of everybody"s hair."
Ingleby took the fly from him, and Leger proceeded. "Now we have got over that difficulty there is another to consider."
"There generally is," said Hetty.
"This one is serious," said her brother. "One can no more live upon trout and nothing else than he can upon dried apples, and while the flour is running out we have neither dollars nor dust to buy any more with. Our friend the freighter cannot be induced to grub-stake everybody, and I"m not sure one could blame him for asking five or six times as much for his provisions as they are worth in the cities when you consider the nature of the trail. Of course, Walter and I could earn a few dollars at Tomlinson"s mine."
He stopped, and looked at Ingleby, whose face grew a trifle grave.
"A placer claim," said the latter, "can only be held while you work upon it continuously."
"Exactly! Seventy-two hours after we lay down the shovel any other man who thinks it worth while can seize upon our last chance of making a fortune. I think you understand that, considering the present cost of provisions, we are scarcely likely to save as much as would keep us while we try again, out of what we make on Tomlinson"s claim."
Ingleby realized this and said nothing. The giving up of his claim implied the parting with certain aspirations which had of late supported him through long days of feverish toil; but one must live, and he had discovered that to work as the free miners do in that country a somewhat ample diet is necessary. He sat near the fire, and Hetty, who saw the hardness of his face, understood it.
"You really think there is gold in the claim?" she said.
"Yes," said Ingleby. "Tomlinson and one or two of the others who have played this game half their lives admitted that the signs were as good as any they had seen. Still, I"m by no means sure we can hold out until we strike it."
Hetty smiled in a curious fashion. "Especially while you have me to keep?"
Even Leger appeared astonished, and Ingleby flushed hotly as he turned to her. "Hetty," he said sternly, "what do you mean by that?"
The girl laughed, and pointed to the loaf. "That is nice bread?"
"It is," said Ingleby. "Still, I don"t see what that has to do with it."
"There"s no bread like it in the Green River country," persisted Hetty.
"They taught me to bake at the boarding-house. I made it."
Ingleby looked at her in astonishment. "Go on," he said. "I"ll wait a little."
"Well," and though Hetty spoke quietly her voice was not quite her usual one, "what are you and Tom longing for just now more than anything?"
"The means to go on working on our claim."
"Then what would you say if I gave you them?"
Ingleby gasped. For days he had been haunted by the fear that their provisions would run out before they found the gold he believed in, for a little very simple figuring had shown that there was only a faint hope of their making more than the value of their day"s labour once they relinquished the hitherto unprofitable claim. There was also, it was evident, no great probability that a mere wielder of pick and shovel would ever gain the regard of the Gold Commissioner"s daughter, though Miss Coulthurst, whom he met occasionally, had of late been unusually gracious to him. He had, however, not the faintest notion of the fact that Hetty Leger read his thoughts.
"You see, it"s quite simple," she said. "I made this bread, and there are men up the valley who are really finding gold. They don"t want to waste a minute doing anything else, and it takes time to bake. You can"t even make flapjacks in a moment. Now, if I had two or three sacks of flour I think I could get almost what I liked to ask for every loaf."
Leger looked up with a little expressive smile. "I believe she has found the way out of the difficulty."
It was, however, Ingleby at whom Hetty glanced, though it did not strike him then--as it did long afterwards--that she must have been quite aware what she was offering him.
"Well?" she said.
Ingleby"s lips were set, and his face a trifle grim. To live, even for the purpose of working for a result by which she would benefit, upon the yield of a woman"s enterprise and toil did not commend itself to him, though he could not very well tell her so.
"We haven"t got the flour," he said.
"No," said Hetty. "Still, it can be bought at the settlement, and no doubt you could find the pack-horses in the bush. You could go down and get it while Tom holds the claim."
"There is still the difficulty that I haven"t got the money."
Hetty laughed. "I have. The wages were really good at the boarding-house. Of course, you and Tom could build the oven and chop the wood, while I wouldn"t mind your kneading the dough either if you wanted to. That would leave me with nothing to do but watch the bread baking."
Ingleby still said nothing; but his face, as the firelight showed, was a trifle flushed, and Leger shook his head at him. "One can"t afford to be whimsical up here," he said. "Anyway, I"m willing to give the thing a trial, and if we don"t strike gold we can always go over to Tomlinson"s or start baking, too. I shouldn"t wonder if it should turn out as profitable as mining, and it is certainly likely to be a good deal more reliable."
Hetty once more glanced at Ingleby. "Of course, we can"t make you join us if you don"t want."
At last Ingleby turned to her. "Hetty," he said quietly, "I don"t think you could understand how much you have done for me. I would sooner cut my hand off than let the claim go."
Hetty only smiled, and they had almost thrashed out the scheme when a thud of hoofs came up faintly through the roar of the river from the gorge below. Then the figure of a horseman became visible, and when he swung himself very stiffly from the saddle in front of the fire Ingleby rose hastily and held out his hand.
"Mr. Sewell!" he said. "I don"t mean it conventionally, this--is--a pleasure."
The stranger, who swept his wide hat off as he turned to Hetty, laughed.