Janet Austin was frail and worn by pain. Her pale face flushed a little as the man suddenly stooped and touched her forehead with his lips.
"G.o.d bless you for your kindly heart," he said. "A ruined man has very few friends, and many acquaintances are waiting to convince him that his downfall is the result of his own folly, but"--and he straightened his wiry frame, while his eyes glinted--"they have not seen the end, and even if beaten, there is satisfaction in a stubborn, single-handed struggle."
Janet Austin, perhaps thinking of her own helplessness, sighed as she answered:
"I do not think you will be beaten, Geoffrey, but if you will take advice from me, remember that over-confidence in your powers and the pride that goes with it may cost you many a minor victory. Good-by, and good luck, Geoffrey. You will remember me."
That afternoon, while Thurston was in the midst of preparations to leave his native land, the mining engineer called upon him with a provincial newspaper in his hand. "I suppose this is your answer," he remarked, laying his finger on a paragraph.
"Mr. G. Thurston, who has, in the face of many difficulties, attempted to exploit the copper vein in Crosbie Fell, has been compelled to close the mine," the printed lines ran. "We understand he came upon an unexpected break in the strata, coupled with a subsidence which practically precludes the possibility of following the lost lead with any hope of commercial success. He has, therefore, placed his affairs in the hands of Messrs. Lonsdale & Routh, solicitors, and, we understand, intends emigrating. His many friends and former employees wish him success."
"Yes," Geoffrey answered dryly, "I sent them the information, also a copy to London financial papers. Considering the interest displayed just now in British mines, they should insert a paragraph. I"ve staked down your backers" game in return for your threats, and you may be thankful you have come off so easily. Your check is ready. It is the last you will ever get from me."
The expert smiled almost good-naturedly. "You needn"t have taken so much trouble, Thurston," he said. "The exploitation of your rabbit burrow would only have been another drop in the bucket to my correspondents, and it"s almost a pity we can"t be friends, for, with some training, your sledge-hammer style would make its mark in the ring."
"Thanks!" replied Geoffrey. "I"m not fishing for compliments, and it"s probably no use explaining my motives--you wouldn"t understand them.
Still, in future, don"t set down every man commonly honest as an uncommon fool. If I ever had much money, which is hardly likely, I should fight extremely shy of any investments recommended by your friends!"
CHAPTER III
GEOFFREY"S FIRST CONTRACT
It was springtime among the mountains which, glistening coldly white with mantles of eternal snow, towered above the deep-sunk valley, when, one morning, Geoffrey Thurston limped painfully out of a redwood forest of British Columbia. The boom of a hidden river set the pine sprays quivering. A blue grouse was drumming deliriously on the top of a stately fir, and the morning sun drew clean, healing odors from balsam and cedar.
The scene was characteristic of what is now the grandest and wildest, as it will some day be the richest, province of the Canadian Dominion.
The serene majesty of snow-clad heights and the grandeur of vast shadowy aisles, with groined roofs of red branches and mighty colonnades of living trunks, were partly lost upon the traveler who, most of the preceding night, had trudged wearily over rough railroad ballast. He had acquired Colonial experience of the hardest kind by working through the winter in an Ontario logging camp, which is a rough school.
An hour earlier the man, to visit whom Thurston had undertaken an eight-league journey, had laughed in his face when he offered to drain a lake which flooded his ranch. Saying nothing, but looking grimmer than ever, Geoffrey had continued his weary journey in search of sustenance. He frowned as he flung himself down beneath a fir, for, shimmering like polished steel between the giant trees, the glint of water caught his eye, and the blue wood smoke curling over the house on a distant slope suggested the usual plentiful Colonial breakfast.
Although Geoffrey"s male forbears had been reckless men, his mother had transmitted him a strain of north-country canniness. The remnant of his poor possessions, converted into currency, lay in a Canadian bank to provide working capital and, finding no scope for his mental abilities, he had wandered here and there endeavoring to sell the strength of his body for daily bread. Sometimes he had been successful, more often he had failed, but always, when he would accept it, the kindly bush settlers gave him freely of their best. As he basked in the warmth and brightness, he took from his pocket a few cents" worth of crackers. When he had eaten, his face relaxed, for the love of wild nature was born in him, and the glorious freshness of the spring was free to the poorest as well as to the richest. He stooped to drink at a glacier-fed rill, and then producing a corn-cob pipe, sighed on finding that only the tin label remained of his cake of tobacco.
Through the shadow of the firs two young women watched him with curiosity. The man looked worn and weary, his jean jacket was old and torn, and an essential portion of one boot was missing. The stranger"s face had been almost blackened by the snow-reflected glare of the clear winter sun, and yet both girls decided that he was hardly a representative specimen of the wandering fraternity of tramps.
Helen Savine was slender, tall, and dark. Though arrayed in a plain dress of light fabric, she carried herself with a dignity befitting the daughter of the famous engineering contractor, Julius Savine, and a descendant, through her mother, from Seigneurs of ancient French descent who had ruled in patriarchal fashion in old-world Quebec. Jean Graham, whose father owned the ranch on the slope behind them, was ruddy in face, with a solidity of frame that betokened Caledonian extraction, and true trans-Atlantic directness of speech.
"He must be hungry," whispered Jean. "Quite good-looking, too, and it"s queer he sits there munching those crackers, instead of walking straight up and striking us for a meal. I don"t like to see a good-looking man hungry," she added, reflectively.
"We will go down and speak to him," said Helen, and the suggestion that she should interview a wandering vagrant did not seem out of place in that country where men from many different walks of life turned their often ill-fitted hands to the rudest labor that promised them a livelihood. In any case, Helen possessed a somewhat imperious will, which was supplemented by a grace of manner which made whatever she did appear right.
Geoffrey, looking round at the sound of approaching steps, stood suddenly upright, thrusting the more dilapidated boot behind the other, and wondering with what purpose the two girls had sought him. One he recognized as a type common enough throughout the Dominion--kindly, shrewd, somewhat hard-featured and caustic in speech; but the other, who looked down on him with thinly-veiled pity, more resembled the women of birth and education whom he had seen in England.
"You are a stranger to this district. Looking for work, perhaps?" said Helen Savine. Geoffrey lifted his wide and battered felt hat as he answered, "I am."
"There is work here," announced Helen. "I can offer you a dollar now--if you would care to earn it. Yonder rock, which I believe is a loose boulder, obstructs our wagon trail. If you are willing to remove it and will follow us to the ranch, you will find suitable tools."
Geoffrey flushed a little under his tan. When seeking work he had grown used to being sworn at by foremen with Protectionist tendencies, but it galled him to be offered a woman"s charity, and the words "If you would care to earn it," left a sting. Nevertheless, he reflected that any superfluous sensitiveness would be distinctly out of place in one of his position, and, considering the wages paid in that country, the man who rolled the boulder clear would well earn his dollar.
Accordingly he answered: "I should be glad to remove the rock, if I can."
The two young women turned back towards the ranch, and Thurston followed respectfully, as far as possible in the rear, that they might not observe the condition of his attire. This was an entirely superfluous precaution, for Helen"s keen eyes had noticed.
Reaching the ranch, Geoffrey possessed himself of a grub-hoe, which is a pick with an adz-shaped blade with an ax and shovel; also he returned with the girls to the boulder. For an hour or two he toiled hard, grubbing out hundredweights of soil and gravel from round about the rock. Then cutting a young fir he inserted the b.u.t.t of it as a lever, and spent another thirty minutes focusing his full strength on the opposite end. The rock, however, refused to move an inch, and, because a few crackers are not much for a hungry man to work on after an all-night march, Thurston became conscious that he had a headache and a distressful st.i.tch in his side. Still, being obstinate and filled with an unreasoning desire to prove his trustworthiness to his fair employer, he continued doggedly, and after another hour"s digging found the stone still immovable. Then it happened that while, with the perspiration dripping from him, he tugged at the lever, the rancher who had rebuffed him that morning, drew rein close beside.
"h.e.l.lo! What are you after now? You"re messing all this trail up if you"re doing nothing else," he declared in a tone of challenge.
"If you have come here to amuse yourself at my expense, take care. I"m not in the mood for baiting," answered Thurston, who still smarted under the recollection of the summary manner in which the speaker had rejected his proffered services. "There are, however, folks in this country more willing to give a stranger a chance than you, and I"ve taken a contract to remove that rock for a dollar. Now, if you are satisfied, ride on your way."
"Then you"ve made a blame bad bargain," commented the rancher, with unruffled good humor. "I was figuring that I might help you. I thought you were a hobo after my chickens, or trying to bluff me into a free meal this morning. If you"d asked straight for it, I"d have given it you."
Geoffrey hesitated, divided between an inclination to laugh or to a.s.sault the rancher, who perhaps guessed his thoughts, for, dismounting, he said:
"If you"re so mighty thin-skinned what are you doing here? Why don"t you British dukes stop right back in your own country where folks touch their hats to you? Let me on to that lever."
For at least twenty minutes, the two men tugged and panted. Then Bransome, the rancher, said:
"The blame thing"s either part of the out-crop or wedged fast there forever, and I"ve no more time to spare. Say, Graham"s a hard man, and has been playing it low on you. What"s the matter with turning his contract up and going over to fill oat bags for me?"
"Thank, but having given my word to move that rock, I"m going to stay here until I do it," answered Geoffrey; and Bransome, nodding to him, rode on towards the ranch.
When he reached it Bransome said to Jean Graham in the hearing of Miss Savine:
"The old man has taken in yonder guileless stranger who has put two good dollars" worth of work into that job already, and the rock"s rather faster than it was before."
"Did he say Mr. Graham hired him?" asked Helen, and she drew her own inference when Bransome answered:
"Why, no! I put it that way, and he didn"t contradict me."
It was afternoon when Thurston realized at last that even considerable faith in one"s self is not sufficient, unaided, to move huge boulders.
He felt faint and hungry, but the pride of the Insular Briton restrained him from begging for a meal. His own dislike to acknowledge defeat also prompted him to decide that where weary muscles failed, mechanical power might succeed, and he determined to tramp back a league to the settlement in the hope of perhaps obtaining a drill and some giant powder on credit. He had not studied mining theoretically as well as in a costly practical school for nothing.
It was a rough trail to the settlement. The red dust lay thick upon it and the afternoon sun was hot. When at last, powdered all over with dust and very weary, Thurston came in sight of the little wooden store, he noticed Bransome"s horse fastened outside it. He did not see the rancher, who sat on an empty box behind a sugar hogshead inside the counter.
"I want two sticks of giant powder, a fathom or two of fuse, and several detonators," said Geoffrey as indifferently as he could. "I have only two bits at present to pay for them, but if they don"t come to more than a dollar you shall have the rest to-morrow. I also want to borrow a drill."
The storekeeper was used to giving much longer credit than Geoffrey wanted, but the glance he cast at the applicant was not rea.s.suring, and it is possible he might have refused his request, but that, unseen by Thurston, Bransome signaled to him from behind the barrel.
"We don"t trade that way with strangers generally," the storekeeper answered. "Still, if you want them special, and will pay me what they"re worth to-morrow, I"ll oblige you, and even lend you a set of drills. But you"ll come back sure, and not lose any of them drills?"
he added dubiously.
"I haven"t come here to rob you. It"s a business deal, and not a favor I"m asking," a.s.serted Geoffrey grimly, and when he withdrew the storekeeper observed:
"Why can"t you do your own charity, Bransome, instead of taxing me?
That"s the crank who wanted to run your lake down, isn"t he? I guess I"ll never see either him or them drills again."