"I can"t help that. You have my offer. I can"t have that kind of man on our pay-roll."
Weston stood silent for a moment or two. He had arrived at the wooden hotel too late for supper the previous evening, and, as a rule, neither blandishments nor money will secure the stranger a meal at an establishment of that kind after the appointed hour. As the result, he had eaten nothing since noon, when the sawmill hands had offered him a share of their dinner; and, having a.s.sisted Grenfell along an infamous trail most of the night, he was jaded and very hungry. Now work and food were offered him, and there was not a settlement within several leagues of the spot. He had, however, already decided that he could not cast his comrade adrift.
"Well," he said, "perhaps there"s a way out of it. If you"ll let him camp with the boys, I"ll be responsible for his board."
"Any relation of yours?"
"No," replied Weston simply, "he"s just my partner."
The other man looked at him curiously, and then made what Weston fancied was an unusual concession.
"Well," he said, "we"ll fix it. You may go along and drill with the boys yonder in the open cut."
Weston did as he was bidden, and spent the rest of the morning alternately holding the jarring drill and swinging a hammer. It was strenuous work which demanded close attention, for the hammer was heavy, and it is far from easy to hit a drill neatly on the head, while the man who fails to do so runs the risk of smashing the fingers of the comrade who holds it. It was not much more pleasant when he gripped the drill in turn, for, though the other man stood on a plank inserted in a crevice, Weston had to kneel on a slippery slope of rock and twist the drill each time the hammer descended. The concussion jarred his stiffened hands and arms. The distressful st.i.tch also was coming back into his side, and once or twice his companion cast an expostulating glance at him.
"You want to speed up," he said. "Guess that boss of ours knows just how much the most is that a man can drill, and he has to do it or get out."
Though it cost him an effort, Weston contrived to keep his companion going until the dinner hour arrived, and he found the work a little easier when he had eaten. Still, he was perplexed about Grenfell, who did not understand what arrangement he had arrived at with the mine captain. Grenfell spent the afternoon mending his own and some of Weston"s clothes, which badly needed it, and the evening meal was over when the latter sat with the others outside the shanty wearing a jacket which his companion had sewed. Grenfell, however, was not with them just then. By and by the man who had desired to wreck the hotel bar turned to Weston.
"What are you going to do with your partner?" he asked.
"I don"t quite know," said Weston. "In the meanwhile he"ll stay here."
"How"s he going to raise his board?"
"That"s not quite your business," said Weston quietly.
The man laughed good-humoredly.
"Well," he replied, "in one way I guess it isn"t. Still, if you pay your partner"s board you"re going to have mighty little money left.
Mended that jacket, didn"t he? Won"t you take it off?"
Weston wondered a little at this request, but he complied; and the man pa.s.sed the garment around to" the others, who gravely inspected the sewed-up rents and the patches inserted in it.
"Quite neat, isn"t it?" he commented.
They admitted that it was; and the chopper, handing the garment back to Weston, smiled as though satisfied.
"I"ve an idea, boys," he announced.
His companions appeared dubious, but he nodded quietly.
"I"ve got one sure," he said. "Now, in a general way, if there"s a store handy, I"ve no use for mending clothes; but you have to wash them now and then, and it never struck me as quite comfortable to put them on with half the st.i.tching rubbed out of them. Well, washing"s a thing I"m not fond of either, and it"s kind of curious that when one man starts in at it everybody wants the coal-oil can."
They murmured languid concurrence, for, as he said, clothes must be washed and mended now and then, and the man who has just finished a long day"s arduous toil seldom feels any great inclination for the task. It usually happens, however, that when one sets about it his companions do the same, and there is sometimes trouble as to who has the prior claim on the big kerosene can in which the garments are generally boiled.
"Well," said the chopper, "I"ve a proposition to make. There are quite a few of us, and a levy of thirty or forty cents a week"s not going to hurt anybody while there"s a man round here who can"t chop or shovel.
Guess he has to live, and it"s a blame hard country, boys, to that kind of man. Now, it"s my notion we make the fellow mender and washer to the camp."
There was a murmur of applause, for, when they own any money, which, however, is not frequently the case, the free companions are usually open-handed men, and Weston was not astonished at their readiness to do what they could for his companion. He had been in that land long enough to learn that it is the hard-handed drillers and axmen from whom the wanderer and even the outcast beyond the pale is most likely to receive a kindness. Their wide generosity is exceeded only by the light-hearted valor with which they plunge into some tremendous struggle with flood and rock and snow.
"Make it half a dollar anyway," said one of them.
Then Weston stood up, with a little flush on his face and a curious look in his eyes.
"Thank you, boys, but I have to move an objection," he said. "This is a thing that concerns me."
"Sit down," commanded one of them sharply. "It"s a cold business proposition."
They silenced his objections, and sent for Grenfell, who appeared disconcerted for a moment when he heard what they had to say. Then he laughed somewhat harshly.
"Well," he said, "I"ll be glad to do it, and I don"t mind admitting that the offer is a relief to me."
They strolled away by and by, and Grenfell made a little grimace as he looked at Weston.
"When I can tell how the ore should pan out by a glance at the dump, and plot just how the vein should run, it"s disconcerting to find that the only way I can earn a living is by washing and mending," he said.
"In fact," and he spread out his hands, "the thing"s humiliating."
To a certain extent Weston sympathized with him. The man, it seemed, had been a famous a.s.sayer, and now the one capability which was of any use to him was that of neatly mending holes in worn-out garments. He undertook the task cheerfully, however, and things went smoothly for a week or two. Then a stranger, who appeared to be a man of authority, arrived at the camp. He was a young man, who looked opinionative, and when he first appeared was dressed in city clothes. Soon after his arrival he strolled around the workings with the man whom Weston hitherto had regarded as the manager. When he spoke sharply to one or two of the men, the driller who worked with Weston snorted expressively.
"Colvin puts the work through, but that"s the top boss," he said. "You can see it all over him. Learned all about mining back east in the cities, and couldn"t sink a hole for a stick of giant-powder to save his life. Been down at Vancouver fixing up with the directors what they"re going to tell the stockholders. Still, I guess he"s not going to run this company"s stock up very much."
"How"s that?" Weston asked.
The man lowered his voice confidentially.
"Well," he said, "there"s a good deal in mining that you can"t learn from books, and a little you can"t learn at all. It has to be given you when you"re born. Colvin"s a hustler, but that"s "bout all he is, and I"ve a kind of notion they aren"t going to bottom on the richest of this vein. Anyway, it"s not my call. They wouldn"t listen to me."
Weston"s gesture might have expressed anything. He naturally had been favored with hints of this kind while he followed other somewhat similar occupations, for it is not an uncommon thing for the men who toil with the drill and shovel to feel more or less convinced that those set over them are not going about the work in the right way. He had also more than once seen this belief proved warranted. His companion"s suggestions, however, were borne out when he sat smoking with Grenfell in the bush after supper.
"I"ve been in the adit this afternoon," observed the latter. "Colvin sent me along to where they are putting in the heavy timbering." He laughed softly. "Well, they"re throwing away most of their money."
"You"re sure?" inquired Weston.
"Am I sure!" expostulated his comrade. "I need only point out that I ought to be."
"Then," said Weston, reflectively, "unless they ask your opinion, which isn"t very probable, I"d say nothing about it. Some people don"t take kindly to being told they"re wrong. The thing doesn"t affect you, anyway."
He was a little astonished at the change in his companion, for a sparkle crept into Grenfell"s watery eyes, and his voice grew sharper.
"You haven"t the miner"s or the engineer"s instinct; it"s the same as the artist"s," he said. "He can see the unapproachable, beautiful simplicity of perfection, and bad work hurts him. I don"t know that it"s a crime to throw away money, but it is to waste intelligence and effort that could accomplish a good deal properly directed. Why was man given the power to understand the structure of this material world? I may be a worn-out whisky wreck, but I could tell them how to strike the copper."
"Still," said Weston, dryly, "I"d very much rather you didn"t. I don"t think that it would be wise."
His companion left him shortly afterward, and it was some days later when the subject was reopened. Then Grenfell came to him with a rueful face.
"I"ve had an interview with the manager," he explained.
"Well," said Weston, sharply, "what did he say?"