Haldane could command any man's attention when he chose to exert himself, and, I fancied, made a special effort on my behalf during his homeward journey. As a result of this I almost forgot that I was a homeless and practically ruined man as I listened to his shrewd predictions concerning the future of that region, or occasionally ventured to point out improbabilities in some of them. The depression, however, returned with double force when we came into sight of Bonaventure soon after dusk, and with it a curious reluctance to face the young mistress of the homestead.
Lucille Haldane was my junior by several years. Indeed, on our first meeting I had considered her little more than a girl, but since then a respect for her opinions, and a desire to retain her approval, had been growing upon me. Perhaps it was because her opinions more or less coincided with my own, but this fact would not account for the undeniable thrill of pleasure which had followed her naïve announcement that she believed in me. Hitherto, with one exception, I had figured before her as a successful man, and I positively shrank from appearing as one badly beaten and brought down by his own overconfident folly. I remembered how she once said: "You must not disappoint us."
This seemed wholly absurd, but the worst bitterness I had yet experienced made itself felt when Haldane pulled up his team, and, pointing to a figure on the threshold of his homestead, said: "Lucille must have been getting impatient. She is watching for us."
I allowed him to precede me by as long a space as possible, while I lingered to assist the hired man with a refractory buckle, and then it was with an effort Ibraced myself for the interview. Haldane had vanished into the house, but the slight, graceful figure still waited upon the threshold, and I wondered, with a strange anxiety, what his daughter would say to me.
The question was promptly answered, for, as I entered the hall, feeling horribly ashamed and with doubtless a very wooden face, Lucille Haldane held out both hands to me. Her manner was half-shy, wholly compassionate, and I stood quite still a while comforted by the touch of the little soft fingers which I held fast within my own. Then she said very simply: "I am so sorry, but you will have better fortune yet."
A lamp hung close above us, and it was, perhaps, as well that it did, for the relief which followed the quiet words that vibrated with sincerity was more inimical to rational behavior than the previous causeless hesitation. Lucille Haldane looked more girlish than ever and most bewitchingly pretty as, glancing up at me, partly startled by my fervent grasp, she drew her hands away. She seemed the incarnation of innocence, freshness, and gentle sympathy, and, perhaps as a result of the strain lately undergone, there came upon me an insane desire to stoop and kiss her as, or so at least it seemed, a brother might have done.
She may have grown suspicious, for feminine perceptions are keen, and, though the movement was graceful and not precipitate, a distance of several feet divided us next moment, and we stood silent, looking at each other, while my heart beat at what appeared double its usual rate.
"You have given me new hope, and those were the kindest words I have ever heard," I said. "I think you meant them."
Lucille Haldane's manner changed. The change was indefinite, but it existed, and it was with a smile she answered me. "Of course I did. One does not generally trouble to deceive one's friends; and we are friends, are we not, Mr. Ormesby?"
"No one could desire a better, and I hope we shall always remain so," I answered, with an attempt at abow; and the girl, turning, preceded me into the big central hall.
"What kept you so long, Ormesby? One could almost have fancied you had become possessed of an unusual bashfulness," said Haldane, when we came in; and I glanced apologetically at his daughter before I answered him.
"Something of the kind happened, and my excuse is that I had very little cause for self-confidence. Now, however, I am only ashamed of the hesitation."
"You deserve to be," said Haldane, with a mock severity which veiled a certain pride. "Fortunately, the young mistress of Bonaventure atones for her father's shortcomings, and so long as she rules there will always be a welcome for anybody in adversity here, as well as the best we can give to harassed friends. It is a convenient arrangement, for while, according to my unsuccessful rivals, I grow rich by paralyzing industries and unscrupulous gambling upon the markets, Lucille assists me to run up a counter score by proxy."
The girl's face flushed a little, and it was pleasant to see the quick indignation sparkle in her eyes. "You never did anything unscrupulous; and I do not think we are very rich," she said.
One might have fancied that Haldane was gratified, though he smiled whimsically and turned in my direction as he answered: "The last assertion, at least, is true if it proves anything, for it is tolerably hard to acquire even a competence nowadays by strictly honest means, isn't it, Ormesby? You, however, do not know the inconvenience of having an uncomfortably elevated standard fixed for one to live up to, and I am seriously contemplating a reckless attack on some national industry to prove its impossibility."
The girl's confidence in her father was supreme, for, though this time she laughed, it was evident she did not believe a word of this. "It is well you are known by your actions and not your speeches," she said. "There are commercial combinations which deserve to be attacked. Why"—and her tone grew serious enough—"do you not crush the man or men who are doing so much mischief in our vicinity?"
Haldane looked at his daughter, and then across at me, and, while slightly ironical good-humor was stamped on his face, it was a mask. There was more than one side to his character, and, when it pleased him to be so, there was nobody more inscrutable. "It is a rather extensive order, and men of that stamp are generally hard to crush," he said. "Still, if those mistaken doctors should conspire to forbid me more profitable employment, I might, perhaps, make the attempt some day."
This was vague enough, but I felt that Haldane had intended the hint for me. There was no further reference to anything financial, for henceforward both my host and his daughter laid themselves out to help me to forget my troubles, and were so successful in this that I even wondered at myself. The troubles were certainly not far away, but the financier's anecdotes and his daughter's comments proved so entertaining that they diminished and melted into a somber background.
When Lucille left us Haldane sat chatting with me over his cigar, and at last he said abruptly: "I dare say you wondered at my half-hearted action to-day?"
"I did, sir," I answered; and the financier nodded good-humoredly.
"There is nothing to equal plain speaking, Ormesby. When a man knows just what he wants and asks for it he stands the best chance of obtaining it, though I don't always act in accordance with the maxim myself. Well, I made a few bids somewhat against my better judgment because I had promised to, and then ceased because it seemed best to me that, since you could not hold it, Lane should acquire the property."
"I don't quite see the reason, sir. On the other hand, a stiff advance in prices would have meant a good deal to me," I said.
Haldane answered oracularly: "That gentleman's funds are not inexhaustible, and he already holds what one might call foreclosure options on a good deal ofproperty. I should not be sorry to see him take hold of further land so long as it did not lie west of Gaspard's Trail. It is possible that he has, as we say in the vernacular, bitten off more than he can chew—considering the present scarcity of money. I should take heart if I were you, and hold on to Crane Valley whatever it costs you."
"Can't you speak a little more directly?" I asked.
Haldane shook his head. "I am not in a position to do so yet; but, if surmises turn into certainties, I will some day. Meanwhile, are you open to train some of the Bonaventure colts, and look after my surplus stock on a profit-division basis? I have more than my staff can handle."
"I should be very glad to do so," I answered, seeing that while the offer was prompted by kindness it had also its commercial aspect. "But, if there is anything going on, say, some plan for the exploitation of this district in opposition to Lane, can I not take my part in it?"
"I have heard of no such scheme; and, if I had, you could help it most by driving new straight furrows and raising further cattle," said Haldane, with an enigmatical smile. "There are games which require a lifelong experience from the men who would succeed in them; and, because Rome was not built in a day, perhaps you were wiser to stick to your plowing, Ormesby. One gets used to the excitement of the other life, but the strain remains, and that is one reason why you see me at Bonaventure again."
My host's words encouraged me. It was true he had said very little, but that was always Haldane's way; and, seeing that he now desired to change the subject, I followed his lead. "I hope your health is not failing you again, sir?" I said.
"Save for one weakness, my general health is good enough," was the quiet answer. "Still, the weakness is there, and for the second time this year physicians have ordered an interval of quietness and leisure. One has to pay the penalty for even partial success, you know, and I am not so young or vigorous as I used to be."
"Then, if I may ask the question, why not abandon altogether an occupation which tries you, sir?"
Haldane smiled over his cigar, but a shadow crossed his face. "We are what the Almighty made us, Ormesby, and I suppose the restless gaming instinct was born in me. Even in my enforced leisure down here it is almost too strong for me, and I indulge in it on a minor scale by way of recreation. I can't sit down and quietly rust into useless inactivity. Further, while handling a good deal of money, my private share is smaller than many folks suppose it, and I have my daughters' future to ensure. Both have been brought up to consider a certain amount of luxury as necessary."
I do not think the last words were intended as a hint, for had Haldane considered the latter necessary it is hardly likely I should have been welcomed so often at Bonaventure. In any case it would have been superfluous, for I had already faced the worst, and decided that Beatrice Haldane must remain what she had always been to me—an ideal to be worshiped in the abstract and at a distance. Strangest of all, once the knowledge was forced on me, I found it possible to accept the position with some degree of resignation. All this flashed through my mind as I looked into the wreaths of smoke, and then Haldane spoke:
"Have you come across that photographer fellow lately?"
"Not for some time. Do you wish to see him?" I answered, with a slightly puzzled air.
"I think I should like to"—and Haldane's voice changed from its reflective tone. "Do you know who he is, Ormesby?"
"I should hardly care to say without consulting him, sir," I answered; and Haldane laughed.
"You need not trouble, because I do. If you chance upon him tell him what I said. Getting late, isn't it? Good-night to you!"
He left me equally relieved and mystified, and that I should feel any relief at all formed part of the mystery. Whatever was the cause of it, I was neither utterly castdown nor desperate when I sought my couch, and I managed to sleep soundly.
That was the first of several visits to Bonaventure. The acreage of Crane Valley was ample, but the house a mere elongated sod hovel, of which Miss Steel monopolized the greater portion, although I reflected grimly that in existing circumstances it was quite good enough for me. Our life there was dreary enough, and, at times, I grew tired of Sally's alternate blandishments and railleries; so, when the frost bound fast the sod and but little could be done for land and cattle, it was very pleasant to spend a few days amid the refinement and comfort which ruled at Bonaventure. During one of my journeys there I met Cotton, and rode some distance with him across the prairie. I could see there was something he wished to say, but his usually ample confidence seemed to fail him, and finally he bade me farewell with visible hesitation where our ways parted. I had, however, scarcely resumed my journey before he hailed me, and when I checked my horse he rode back in my direction with resolve and irresolution mingled in his face.
"You are in a great hurry. There was something I wanted to ask," he commenced. "Do you think this frost will hold, Ormesby?"
"You have a barometer in the station, haven't you?" I answered, regarding him ironically. "Cotton, you have something on your mind to-day, and it is not the frost. Out with it, man. I'm in no way dangerous."
"I have," he answered, with a slight darkening of the bronze in his face. "It is not a great thing, but your paternal advice and cheap witticisms pall on me now and then. Curious way to ask a favor, isn't it? But that is just what I'm going to do."
"We'll omit the compliments. Come to the point," I said; and the trooper made the plunge he had so much hesitated over.
"I want you to ride out on Wednesday night and meet Freighter Walker coming in from the rail. As you know, he generally travels all night by the BitterLakes trail. Ask him for a packet with my name on the label, then tear that label off and give Mail-carrier Steve the packet addressed to Miss Haldane. Those confounded people at the rail post office chatter so about every trifle, and Steve is too thick in the head to notice anything. My rounds make it quite impossible for me to go myself, and that fool of a freighter would certainly lose or smash the thing before he passed our way on his return journey. It is not asking too much, is it?"
"No," I said readily, seeing the eagerness in the trooper's eyes, though that statement implied a long, cold night's ride. "Miss Haldane is, however, in Ottawa."
"I don't care where she is," said Cotton. "Confound—of course, I mean it's very good of you; but there's no use in assuming stupidity. It is Miss Lucille Haldane I mean, you know."
"I might certainly have guessed it," I said dryly. "It is no business of mine, Cotton, but in return for your compliments I can't help asking, do you think Haldane would appreciate it?"
Cotton straightened himself in his saddle, and I was sorry for him. He looked very young with that light in his eyes and the hot blood showing through his tan; also, I fancied, very chivalrous.
"Don't be under any misapprehension, Ormesby," he said quietly. "That packet merely contains an article I heard Miss Haldane lamenting that she could not obtain. It is of no value, only useful; but Thursday is her birthday, and I think she would be pleased to have it. Being Trooper Cotton, I should never have presumed to send a costly present, and you do not for a moment suppose Miss Lucille would appreciate the trifle for anything beyond its intrinsic utility. This is the second time you have forced me to point out the absurdity of your conclusions."
I was angry with him both for his infatuation and obtuseness, for it struck me that in the circumstances the simple gift was made in a dangerously graceful fashion, and calculated to appeal to a young woman's sympathies. "I can't offer you advice?" I said.
"No," was the answer. "One might surmise that you needed all your abilities in that direction for yourself. Still, to prevent your drawing any unwarranted inference, I may repeat that it would be quite unnecessary."
"I understand," I said somberly, feeling that there were two of us in the same position. "Very glad to oblige you. The times are out of joint for all of us just now, Cotton. Good-night—and, on consideration, I think the frost will hold."
We rode in different directions, and because I had made that unfortunate promise it was late on Wednesday night when I prepared to leave Bonaventure quietly. Haldane had journeyed to the railroad and could not return before midnight at earliest. Lucille informed me that she would be busy with some household affairs, and, as I could be back by morning, it seemed possible that neither would miss me. Having promised the trooper secrecy, I did not wish to answer questions or name excuses.
As ill-luck would have it, the last person I desired to meet chanced upon me, as, well wrapped in furs, I was slipping towards the door, and I must have looked confused when Lucille Haldane said: "Where are you going, Mr. Ormesby?"
"A little ride," I answered. "I have—I have some business to do, and after two idle days begin to long for exercise."
The girl looked hard at me, and I saw she recognized that the excuse was very lame. "There is nobody living within reach of a short ride. Will you return to-night?" she asked.
It was most unfortunate, for I did not wish to anticipate the trooper's gift. "I hardly think so," I answered. "Now, I will make a bargain with you. If you will keep my departure a secret, you will discover what my errand is very shortly."
"Very well," said Lucille Haldane; though she still seemed curious. "A safe journey to you, but I don't envy you the exercise."
I afterwards had cause to abuse Trooper Cotton and his errand, but I swung myself into the saddle, and, when I reached the Bitter Lakes trail, I patrolled it for two long hours under the nipping frost. No lumbering ox-team, however, crawled up out of the white prairie, though as yet the moon was in the sky; and I decided that the freighter had, as he sometimes did, taken another trail. It then, fortunately, occurred to me that I had promised to inspect some horses with a small rancher living four or five leagues away, and so determined to do so in the morning. A deserted sod-house stood at no great distance, which the scattered settlers kept supplied with fuel. It served as a convenient half-way shelter for those who must break their long journey to the railroad settlement, and I set out for it at a canter. As I did so the moon dipped, and darkness settled on the prairie.
The hole in the roof of the sod-house had been insufficiently stopped, the green birch billets stored in a corner burned sulkily in the rusty stove, so that the earth-floored room was bitterly cold. Still, after tying my horse at one end of it, and partly burying myself in a heap of prairie hay, I managed to sink into a light slumber. I awakened feeling numbed all through, with the pain at the joints which results from sleeping insufficiently protected in a low temperature, and looked about me shivering. There was not a spark in the stove, the horse was stamping impatiently, and, when a sputtering match had shown me that it was after two in the morning, I rose stiffly. Anything appeared better than slowly freezing there, and I strode out into the night, leading the horse by the bridle.
A cold wind swept the prairie, and it was very dark; but, when we had covered a league or so, and the exercise had warmed me, a dull red glare appeared on the horizon. A grass fire was out of the question at that season, and it was evident that somebody's homestead was burning. I was in the saddle the next moment and riding fast towards the distant blaze. The frozen sod was rough, the night very black, and haste distinctly imprudent; but I pressed on recklessly, haunted by a fear that the scene of the conflagration was Bonaventure. Reaching the edge of a rise, I pulled the horse up with a sense of vast relief, for a struggling birch bluff gave me my bearings and made it plain that neither Haldane's homestead nor his daughter could be in peril.
Then it dawned on me that the fire was at Gaspard's Trail and I sat still a minute, irresolute. I had no doubt that the recent purchaser was merely acting forLane, and I felt tempted to resume my journey; but curiosity, or the instinct which calls out each prairie settler when his neighbor's possessions are in jeopardy, was too strong for me, and I rode towards the blaze, but much more slowly. It was one thing to risk a broken limb when danger appeared to threaten Bonaventure, but quite another to do so for the sake of an unscrupulous adversary. It would have been well for me had I obeyed the first impulse which prompted me—and turned my back upon the fire.
An hour had passed before I reached the house which had once been mine, and, after tethering the horse in shelter of an unthreatened granary, I proceeded to look about me. Gaspard's Trail was clearly doomed. One end of the dwelling had fallen in. The logs, dried by the fierce summer, were blazing like a furnace, and a column of fire roared aloft into the blackness of the night. Showers of sparks drove down-wind, barns and stables were wrapped in smoke; but, although the blaze lighted up the space about them, there was nobody visible. This was in one respect not surprising, because the nearest homestead stood a long distance away, but, as the new owner had an assistant living with him, I wondered what had become of them. From the position of the doors and windows they could have had no difficulty in escaping, so, deciding that if the ostensible proprietor had deserted his property I was not called on to burn myself, I proceeded to prowl about the buildings in case he should be sheltering inside one of them.
Finally I ran up against him carrying an armful of tools out of a shed, and he dropped them at sight of me. "Hallo! Where did you spring from? Blamed hard luck, isn't it?" said he.
Niven, for that was his name, did not appear greatly disconcerted, or was able to face his loss with enviable tranquillity. He was a lanky, thin-faced man, with cunning eyes, and I did not like the way he looked at me.
"I was out on the prairie and saw the blaze. Where'syour hired man; and is there nothing better worth saving than these?" I asked.
"I haven't seen Wilkins since he woke me up," was the answer. "He shouted that the place was burning, and he'd run the horses out of the stable and on to the prairie, while I hunted up odd valuables and dressed myself. He must have done it and ridden off to the nearest ranch for help, for I haven't seen him since. The fire had got too good a hold for us to put it out."
If I had hitherto entertained any doubts as to the ownership of Gaspard's Trail, the speaker's manner would have dissipated them. No man would, in the circumstances, have wasted time in speech had his own property been in danger; and the sight of the homestead, which I had spent the best years of my life in building, now burning without an effort being made to save it, filled me with indignation.
"You're the man who used to own this place, aren't you?" asked Niven, with a sidelong glance. "Should have thought you would have had enough of it; but you might as well help heave these things out, now you're here."
The question was innocent, if unnecessary, for I had spoken to him at the sale; but the manner in which he put it made me long to assault him, and I answered wrathfully: "I'll see you and your master burned before I move a hand!"
"I'm my own master, worse luck!" said the other coolly, before he commenced to gather up his load; and then turned again as another man came up breathless.
"Is that you, Ormesby. Come to see the last of it?" he said; and I saw that the newcomer was Boone, or Adams, the photographer.
"I don't quite know what I came for," I answered. "Probably out of curiosity. It's too late to save anything, even if there were more water in the well than there used to be."
Boone nodded as he glanced towards the house. It was burning more fiercely than ever. The straw roof of the stable, which stood not far away, was also wellalight, and we could scarcely hear each other's voices through the crackling of blazing logs and the roaring of the flame. It was moodily I watched it toss and tower, now straight aloft, now hurled earthwards by the wind in bewildering magnificence. After many a hard day's toil I had robbed myself of much needed sleep to fashion what the pitiless fire devoured, and it seemed as though I had given my blood to feed the flame, and that the hopes which had nerved me had dissipated like its smoke. "I can guess what you're feeling, but a bad failure is sometimes the best way to success. You will get over it," said Boone.
I was grateful, but I did not answer him, for just then a rattle of wheels broke through the roar of the conflagration, and two jolting wagons lurched into the glare. Black figures on horseback followed, and a breathless man ran up. "Trooper came round and warned us, and there's more behind. Looks as if we'd come too late," he said.
We formed the center of an excited group in a few more minutes, for Niven had joined us, and, when he had answered some of the many questions, he asked one in turn. "It was my man Wilkins warned you?"
"I guess not," was the answer. "Trooper Chapleau saw the blaze on his rounds"; and, when the others had stated how the news had been passed on to them, the new owner said: "Then where in the name of thunder has the fool gone?"
A swift suspicion flashed upon me, and I glanced at Adams; but his face was serene enough, and, when the question remained unanswered, another thought struck me. "Did you see him lead the horses out?" I asked.
"No," was the answer. "He was good at handling beasts, and I was way too busy to worry about him. Must have done it long ago. I made sure he'd lit out to ask for assistance, when I saw the door had swung to."
I twisted round on my heel. "Who's coming with me to the stable, boys?" I asked.
The men looked at me and then at the fire. Thestable was built of the stoutest logs obtainable, packed with sod, and its roof of branches, sod, and straw piled several feet thick to keep out the frost. A wind-driven blaze eddied about one end of it, but the rest of the low edifice appeared uninjured as far as we could see it through the smoke. The glare beat upon the weather-darkened faces of the spectators, which glowed like burnished copper under it; but, if devoid of malicious satisfaction, I thought I could read a resolve not to interfere stamped on most of them.
"There's nothing of yours inside, and this fellow says the teams are clear," said one. "A bigger fire wouldn't stop us if the place was Ormesby's; but when the man who allows he owns it does nothing I'll not stir a finger to pull out a few forks and pails for that black thief Lane."
His comrades nodded, and another man said: "It's justice. Boys, you'll remember the night we brought Redmond home?"
I knew the first speaker's statement was true enough. One and all would have freely risked their lives to assist even a stranger who had dealt fairly with them; but they were stubborn men, unused to oppression, and recent events had roused all the slow vindictiveness that lurked within them. I felt very much as they did; but, remembering something, I was not quite certain that the teams were out of the stable, and the dumb beasts had served me well. Before I could speak a police trooper came up at a gallop. "Hallo! What are you gaping at? Can't you stir around and pull anything clear of harm's way, boys?" he shouted.
"We're not a Montreal fire brigade, and I forgot my big helmet," said one.
"Not a stir," interjected another.
"We'd pull the very sod up off the corral if you'd run Lane in for wholesale robbery," added a third; and it was not until the hoarse laugh which followed died away that I found my opportunity.
"I'm afraid the horses are inside there, boys," I said. "It's not their fault they belong to Lane, andwhether you come along or not, I'm going to liberate them."
There was a change in a moment. I never saw even the most unfortunate settler ill-use his beast, though all young plow oxen and half-broken broncos, besides a good many old ones, are sufficiently exasperating. "Ormesby's talking now," said somebody; and there was an approving chorus. "Get the poor brutes clear, anyway. Coming right along!" Then I started for the stable at a run, with the rest of the company hard behind me.
Thick smoke rolled between us and the door, and when we halted just clear of the worst of it a bright blaze shot up from the thatch. The heat scorched our faces, and one or two fell back with heads averted; but the sound of a confused trampling reached us from the building. "We've got to get in before the poor brutes are roasted, and do it mighty smartly," said somebody.
That at least was evident; but the question how it was to be accomplished remained, for I recoiled, blinded and choking, at the first attempt, before I even reached the door. I had framed it, with my own hands, of stout tenoned logs, so that it would fit tightly to keep out the frost. One of the posts loosened by the fire had settled, apparently since the last person entered the building. Another man went with me the second time, but though we managed to reach the handle the door remained immovable, and once more we reeled back beaten, when a strip of blazing thatch fell almost on our heads. Because the roof fed it, the fire was mostly on the outside of the building.
"Solid as a rock," gasped my companion. "Say, somebody find a lariat and we'll heave her out by the roots."
A rope was found and with difficulty hitched about the handle, after which a dozen strong men grasped the slack of it. A glance at their faces, illumined by the glare, showed that the thought of the suffering beasts had roused them, and they were in earnest now. Therewas a heave of brawny shoulders, a straining of sinewy limbs, and the line of bodies swayed backwards as one, when a voice rose: "All together! Heave your best!"
I felt the straining hemp contract within my grasp. Trampling feet clawed for a firmer hold on the frozen sod, and I could hear the men behind me panting heavily. The door remained fast, however, and again a breathless voice encouraged us: "This time does it! Out she comes!"
The rope creaked, the trampling increased, and a man behind kicked me cruelly on the ankle during his efforts; but instead of the jammed door, its handle came out, and the next moment we went down together in one struggling heap. "There was a good birch log by the granary. We'll use it for a ram," I gasped.
Two men brought the log, which was unusually long and heavy for that region, where the stoutest trees are small, and Boone and I staggered with the butt of it into the smoke. The rest grasped the thinner end, swung it back, and drove the other forward with all the impetus they could furnish. The door creaked, but the most manifest result was the fall of a further strip of burning thatch on us.
"We must manage this time," spluttered Boone. "If we once let go it will be too late before anyone else takes hold again."
Once more the door defied us. The heat was almost stifling, the smoke thicker than ever; but, choking, panting, and dripping with perspiration, we managed to swing and guide the end of the log until the battered frame went down with a crash, and we two reeled over it into the building. The fire which traveled along the roof had eaten a portion out, but though one strip of the interior was flooded with lurid light, the smoke of a burning hay pile rolled about the rest. A horse was squealing in agony; one stall partition had been wrenched away, and another kicked to pieces; while two panic-stricken brutes blundered about the building. The rest were plunging and straining at their tethers, andthere was a curious look in Boone's face as he turned to me.
"Somebody will risk being kicked to death before we get them out. I wish we could give their owner the first chance," he said.
Several of the agonized beasts had been in times of loneliness almost as human friends to me. Others had, in their own dumb faithful way, helped me to realize my first ambitions, and the sight of their suffering turned me savage. "Do you know anything of this?" I asked.
Boone wheeled around on me with a menace in his eyes, but apparently mastering his temper with an effort, laughed unpleasantly. "No. Take care you are not asked the same question. Are you disposed to let the horses roast while we quarrel?"
The latter, at least, was out of the question, and I had only paused to gather breath and consider a plan of operations, for it is by no means easy to extricate frantic beasts from a burning building. The others in the meantime were gathering around, and we set about it as best we could. At times thick smoke wreaths blew into our eyes, the heat grew insupportable, and the first horse I freed would have seized me with its teeth but that I smote it hard upon the nostrils. Two men were knocked down and trampled on, another badly kicked, but amid an indescribable confusion the task was accomplished, until only one badly burned horse, and another with a broken leg, remained inside the building.
"We can't leave them to grill," I said. "Thorn used to keep an old shotgun inside the chop-chest lid."
It was Boone who brought me the weapon, and the burned horse was quickly put out of its misery; but a portion of the roof fell in as I ran towards the other. This one lay still, and, I saw, recognized me. It had carried me gallantly on many a weary ride, and was the one on which Lucille Haldane had leaped across the fence. I felt like a murderer when it turned its eyes on me with an almost human appeal, for all that I could do was to press the deadly muzzle against its head. The shock of the detonation shook down a shower of blazingfragments, and I had turned away with a horrible sense of guilt, when somebody shouted, "There's a man in the end stall!"
The stall was hidden by the smoke, but, now that the emptied stable was quieter, a voice reached us faintly through the vapor: "Won't anyone take me out of this?"
Several of us made a rush in that direction; but, so far as memory serves, only Boone and I reached the stall, and, groping around it blindly, came upon something which resembled a human form. We lifted it between us, and the man both groaned and swore; then, staggering through the vapor, we came, blackened, burned a little, and half-asphyxiated, into the open. The rest were already outside, and, when we laid down our burden, they stood about him, panting.
"You've nearly killed me between you, boys, but it wasn't your fault," he gasped. "Horse fell over me when I tried to turn him loose." The half-articulate words which followed suspiciously suggested that the sufferer was cursing somebody, and I caught the name of Lane before he lapsed into semi-consciousness.
"It's pretty simple," one of the onlookers said. "The way Ormesby fixed that door, it shut itself. He got some bones smashed, and was turned half-silly by the shock. Couldn't make us hear him even if he had sense enough. My place is the nearest, and I'll take him along."
I heard my name called softly, and saw Boone standing apart from the rest. "I want to ask why you spoke as you did a little while ago?" he said.
"I did not stop to reflect just then, but I'll hear your explanation if you care to volunteer one before I apologize," I said.
"I was camped under a bluff with the wagon when I saw the blaze, and as the distance was not great, I came in on foot," was the answer. "That is the simple truth. Do you believe it?"
"Yes," I said, for his manner impressed me. "In turn, you also hinted something."
"I was giving you a warning," said Boone. "You are dealing with a dangerous man, and can't you see that if there is any doubt concerning the fire's origin a charge might be worked up against you? Be careful what you say; but as I see the sergeant yonder, you need not mention my presence unless it is necessary."
I alluded to Haldane's desire to see him, and, when he vanished, followed the rest into the presence of Sergeant Mackay, who, ubiquitous as usual, had mysteriously appeared. He sat motionless in his saddle, with slightly compressed lips, though his keen eyes moved along the encircling faces. It was evident that he was making an official inquiry, and the owner of the homestead was speaking.
"My name is Niven, late of the Brandon district, and I purchased this property recently," he said.
"Any partners?" asked the sergeant; and I noticed a gleam of what appeared malicious satisfaction in the other's face as he answered: "No. You will find my name recorded as sole owner. All was right when I turned in about ten o'clock, but I didn't notice the time when my hired man Wilkins roused me to say the house was burning. Had too much to think about. Can't suggest any cause for the fire, and it doesn't count much, anyway, for the result is certain. House and stable burned out—and all uninsured."
"Had ye any other hired man than Wilkins?" interposed the sergeant; and Niven answered: "No. Stable didn't seem to be burning when I first got up, but Wilkins said it was swept by sparks and he'd get the horses out. One of them must have knocked him down, and he was only found at the last minute."
"Who was the first man ye met when ye went out?" asked the sergeant.
"My predecessor—Ormesby," said Niven.
Mackay appeared to meditate before he spoke again: "Where did ye meet him, and what did he say?"
"Slipping around the corner of a shed, and he said he'd see me burnt before he stirred a hand to help,"was the prompt answer. Then Mackay questioned several others before he turned to me.
"How did ye happen to come to Gaspard's Trail, Henry Ormesby?"
"I was riding out from Bonaventure to intercept the freighter and saw the blaze," I answered indignantly. "I certainly refused to help Niven at first, for I had little cause for goodwill towards him or the man behind him; but afterwards I saved most of his working beasts."
There was a murmur of assent from the bystanders, but the sergeant, disregarding it, spoke again: "Did ye meet the freighter?"
"No," I said bluntly.
Mackay smiled. "Ye did not. I passed him an hour gone by on the Buffalo trail. What was your business with him?"
"To ask him for a package."
"All that should be easily corroborated," was the answer; and I was glad that the examination was over, for, remembering Boone's warning, it appeared that my answers might give rise to unpleasant suspicions. It also struck me that, in the hurry and confusion, nobody had noticed him or remembered it if they had done so, while, somewhat strange to say, after the last brief interview I had full confidence in his statement that he knew nothing about the origin of the fire.
"I'm thinking that will do in the meantime. Chapleau, ye'll ride in to the depot and wire for a surgeon. Now, boys, are any of ye willing to take Niven home?" asked Mackay.
Apparently none of them were willing, though at last two offers were reluctantly made. It was the only time I ever saw the prairie settlers deficient in hospitality; but the man's conduct had confirmed their suspicions as to his connection with Lane, which was sufficient to prejudice the most generous. "Maybe he would be comfortable if I took him along with me," Mackay said dryly.
Thereupon the assembly broke up, and I rode back to Bonaventure, reaching it with the first of the daylight,blackened and singed, while, as it happened, Lucille Haldane was the first person I met. "Where have you been? Your clothes are all burned!" she said.
"Gaspard's Trail is burned down and I helped to save some of the horses," I answered wearily; and I never forgot the girl's first startled look. She appeared struck with a sudden consternation. It vanished in a moment, and, though she looked almost guilty, her answer was reassuring.
"Of course; that is just what you would do. But you are tired and must rest before you tell me about it."
I was very tired, and slept until noon, when I told my story to Haldane and his daughter together. The former made very few comments, but presently I came upon Lucille alone, and laid my hand on her shoulder as I said: "Do you know that somebody suggested it was I who burned Gaspard's Trail?"
The girl's color came and went under my gaze; then she lifted her head and met it directly. "I—I was afraid you might be suspected, and for just a moment or two, when you first came in looking like a ghost, I did not know what to think," she said. "But it was only because you startled me so."
"I would not like to think that you could believe evil against me," I said; and Lucille drew herself up a little. "Do not be ungenerous. As soon as I could reason clearly I knew it was quite—quite impossible."
"I hope any work of that kind is," I said; and Lucille Haldane, turning suddenly, left me.
Winter passed very monotonously with us in the sod-house at Crane Valley. When the season's work is over and the prairie bound fast by iron frost, the man whom it has prospered spends his well-earned leisure visiting his neighbors or lounging contentedly beside the stove; but those oppressed by anxieties find the compulsory idleness irksome, and I counted the days until we could commence again in the spring. The goodwill of my neighbors made this possible, for one promised seed-wheat, to be paid for when harvest was gathered in; another placed surplus stock under my charge on an agreement to share the resultant profit, while Haldane sent a large draft of young horses and cattle he had hardly hands enough to care for, under a similar arrangement.
I accepted these offers the more readily because, while prompted by kindness, the advantages were tolerably equal to all concerned. So the future looked slightly brighter, and I hoped that better times would come, if we could hold out sufficiently long. The debt I still owed Lane, however, hung as a menace over me, while although—doubtless because it suited him—he did not press me for payment, the extortionate interest was adding to it constantly. Some of my neighbors were in similar circumstances, and at times we conferred together as to the best means of mutual protection.
In the meantime the fire at Gaspard's Trail was almost forgotten—or so, at least, it seemed. Haldane, much against his wishes, spent most of the winter at Bonaventure; but his elder daughter remained in Montreal. Boone, the photographer, appeared but once, and spent the night with us. He looked less like the average Englishman than ever, for frost and snow-blink had darkened his skin to an Indian's color, and when supper was over I watched him languidly as we lounged smoking about the stove. Sally Steel had managed to render the sod-house not only habitable but comfortable in a homely way, and though she ruled us all in a somewhat tyrannical fashion, she said it was for our good.
"There's a little favor I want to ask of you, Ormesby, but I suppose you are all in one another's confidence?" said Boone.
"Yes," I answered. "We are all, in one sense, partners, with a capital of about ten dollars, and are further united by the fear of a common enemy."
Boone laughed silently, though his face was a trifle sardonic. "That is as it should be, and you may have an opportunity for proving the strength of the combination before very long. I have, as I once told you, a weakness for horses and cattle, and I couldn't resist purchasing some at a bargain a little while ago. I want you to take charge of them for me. Here are particulars, and my idea of an equitable agreement." He laid a paper on the table, and I glanced through it. The conditions were those usual in arrangements of the kind, which were not then uncommon, but though cattle and horses were lamentably cheap, they could not be obtained for nothing, and the total value surprised me.
"We are as honest as most people down this way, and we take one another's word without any use for spilling ink," observed the irrepressible Sally.
"I once heard of a grasping storekeeper being badly beaten over a deal in butter by a clever young lady," said Boone; and Steel laughed, while his sister frowned.
"He deserved it, but you seem to know just everything," she said.
"Some people are born clever, and some handsome; but it is really not my fault," said Boone, with a smile at Sally. "For instance, I know what Ormesby is thinking. He is wondering where I got the money to pay for those beasts."
The laugh was against me, but I answered frankly:"That was in my thoughts; but I also wondered what I had done to merit the trouble you have taken to do me a kindness."
"Don't flatter yourself," said Boone. "It is a matter of business, and equally possible that I wished to do some other person the opposite. You must decide to-night, because I have a new assortment of beautifiers and cosmetics in my wagon which I must set about vending to-morrow. They would not, of course, be of any use to Miss Sally, but I am going on to the Swedish settlement where the poor people need them."
It was not delicate flattery, but Boone was quick at judging his listener's capacity, and it pleased Miss Steel—the more so because a certain Scandinavian damsel was her principal rival in the question of comeliness. She drew herself up a little, while Boone smiled whimsically. "You know it is true," he said.
The man had always interested me. He was at home anywhere, and his tongue equally adept at broad prairie raillery or finely modulated English. Yet one could see that there was a shadow upon him.
"You need have no compunction, Ormesby. I really made only one successful attempt at housebreaking in my life," he said. "Do you accept the offer?"
"Yes, with many thanks; though I don't quite see why you make it in writing," I said. "There are, however, a good many other things I don't comprehend just now, and sometimes I feel that I am being moved here and there blindly to suit other persons' unknown purposes. The position does not please me."
Boone laughed. "There is something in the fancy. You are the king's bishop, and I'm not sure that as yet even the players quite know their own game. Of course you are aware that Lane holds a power of attachment against you?"
"At present there is nothing but the prairie sod to attach, though I don't see why he does not at once grab as much as he is entitled to of that," I said. "If I get enough time I may be able to pay him off after harvest."
"I hope you will," was Boone's answer; and, changing the topic, he entertained us with the quaintest anecdotes.
Some time had passed since that evening, and spring had come suddenly, when I commenced my plowing. Hitherto little wheat had been grown so far West, but the soil was good, and I knew that sooner or later there would be grain elevators in Crane Valley. Though the sub-soil was still frozen, the black clods that curled in long waves from the mold-board's side were steaming under the April sun; and as I tramped down the quarter-mile furrow my spirits rose with the freshness of the spring. It was good to be up and doing again, and the coming months of strain and effort would help me to forget. Thorn and Steel, who were also plowing, shouted jests as they passed, and it was with a contentment long strange to us we rested at noon. Some distance divided the breaking from the house, and we lay on the warm grasses, basking in the radiance of the cloudless sun over our simple meal.
The whole prairie was flooded with it, the air sweet and warm, and we recommenced our task with pulses which throbbed in unison with that of reawakening nature. The long months of darkness and deathlike cold had gone, green blades presaging the golden ears would soon shoot upwards from every furrow, and one drank in the essence of hope eternal in every breath of air. Anxiety faded into insignificance, and one rejoiced in the mere possession of physical strength, while the tender greenness checkering the frost-nipped sod testified again that seed time and harvest should not fail so long as the world rolled onward from darkness into light.
We came home more cheerful than we had been for months, but I felt an instinctive foreboding when I saw Cotton talking to Sally beside the corral fence. She was apparently bantering him, but there was satisfaction in his face, as, after some jests of hers, he glanced at the stripes on his sleeve.
"I guess he's much too proud to look at you. They've made him a corporal!" said Sally.
There was a contrast between us. Spring plowing is not cleanly work, and the mire which clung about our leggings had also freely spattered our old jean overalls. Cotton was immaculate in new uniform, and sat, a trim, soldierly figure, on his freshly caparisoned horse.
"Here is a note for you from Bonaventure," he said. "I was riding in to the railroad with some dispatches and to bring out our pay when Miss Haldane asked me to give it to you."
I saw a faint sparkle in Sally's eyes at the mention of Bonaventure, as I said: "It was very good of you to ride so far round. Your superiors are punctilious, are they not?"
"With the exception of Mackay, who's away, they don't leave one much discretion," said the corporal. "Still, I have time to spare, and don't suppose anybody will be much the wiser. In any case, Miss Haldane said the note was urgent, and—though having to call at the reservation I might have passed this way on my homeward journey—I came at once."
The missive brought a frown to my face. "Our hired men are busy, and Corporal Cotton will kindly take you this," it ran. "Father, who went East for a day or two, writes me to let you know immediately that Lane is coming over shortly to attach your horses and cattle."
I saw at once that if the money-lender seized our working beasts in the midst of plowing, when nobody had a team to spare, our prospects of a harvest would be ruined. However, I reflected with grim satisfaction that the beasts were not mine, and that every man is entitled to protect the property entrusted to him. "Read that," I said, passing it to Thorn. "You had better start after supper and let the South-side boys know. I'll warn the others, and it strikes me that Lane will have his work cut out to drive off a single head."
We had forgotten the bearer of the message, though once or twice I heard Sally's voice and Cotton's laugh; but on turning towards the house I saw he had backed his horse away from the corral and was somewhat dubiously regarding the fence. Sally leaned against it watching him with an assumption of ironical admiration.
"I'll see that you keep your promise if I win," he said; and the girl laughed mockingly.
"If you don't I'll try not to cry over you," she retorted; and I guessed the madcap had made some wager with him that he could not leap the fence. Sally afterwards declared penitently that she never fancied he would attempt it; but I could see by the lad's face he meant to take the risk.
"Your horse is not fresh enough, and you'll certainly break your neck!" I shouted.
Cotton glanced over his shoulder, then gathered up his bridle, while, as I ran towards him, Sally's heart must have failed her, for she called out: "Don't! I'll pay forfeit!"
We were both too late. The corporal had touched the beast with the spurs, and man and horse were flying towards the tall and well-braced fence. I held my breath as I watched, for I had nailed the birch poles home securely, and had not much faith in the beast's leaping powers. It launched itself into the air, then there was a crash, and the top rail flew into splinters, while horse and rider parted company. The former, after rolling over, scrambled to its feet, but the uniformed figure smote the ground with a distressful thud and lay very still. Sally screamed, and must have climbed the fence, for when we had run around by the slip rails she was bending over the limp figure stretched upon the sod. Her eyes were wide with terror.
"He is dead, and I have killed him," she said.
I bent down with misgivings, for Cotton did not move, and there was something peculiar about his eyes. "Can you hear us? Are you badly hurt?" I asked.
"What's that?" he answered drowsily; and I gathered courage, remembering symptoms noticeable in similar cases; but Thorn had administered a dose of prohibited whisky before he became intelligible. I was not wholly sorry for Sally, but seeing that she had beensufficiently punished, I said: "There are no bones broken, and his pulse is regaining strength."
Cotton's scattered senses were evidently returning, for he looked up, saying: "I'm only shaken, Miss Steel, and I won the bet. Don't be in a hurry, Ormesby; I hardly fancy I could get up just yet."
We waited several minutes, then, forcibly refusing Miss Steel's assistance, carried him into the house and laid him on a makeshift couch in our general-room. His color was returning, but his face was awry with pain, and, so he expressed it, something had given way inside his back. It was a dismal termination to an inspiriting day, and the old depression returned with double force as I glanced at the untasted meal on the table, at Lucille Haldane's note, and around the disordered room. Sally looked badly frightened, Steel very grim, and Cotton seemed to be suffering.
"It will pass presently, and you had better get your supper," he said. "I must try to eat a morsel, for I have a long way to ride to-night."
"You are not going to move off that couch until morning at least," I said. But the corporal answered: "I simply must. Is the horse all right?"
"Doesn't seem much the worse," said Steel; and Sally held a teacup to the corporal's lips, and afterwards coaxed him very prettily to eat a little. Seeing this, the rest of us attacked the cold supper, for we had duties that must be attended to. Returning to the house some little time later, I found that Sally had disappeared and Cotton was standing upright. He moved a few paces, and then halted, leaning heavily on the table, while his face grew gray with pain.
"Lie down at once. You are not fit to move," I said.
"It means degradation and heaven knows what besides unless I can reach the depot to-night," he said. "Mackay is away, and the other man's a cast-iron martinet, while I have just got my stripes and a hint of something better. You see we are not supposed to undertake private errands when under definite orders,and there are special reports and a receipt for the pay in my wallet."
He made another attempt to reach the door, then staggered, and, grasping his arm, I settled him with some difficulty once more on the couch. "You are right. There's nothing left but to face the inevitable," he said, trying to check a groan.
I forgot my own anxieties in my regret. "I am very sorry this should have happened," I said. "You were far too generous; but can't one of us take in the papers and get the money?"
Cotton tried to smile, though his fingers twitched. "Miss Haldane asked me; and it would be no use. They wouldn't give you the money, and if they did, how would that get over the fact that I'm lying here helpless? Why couldn't it have happened on the return journey?"
"Did you tell Miss Haldane you were running a risk?" I asked.
"Would one naturally do so when she asked a favor?" he answered, with a trace of indignation.
It was of course absurd of Corporal Cotton, but I felt very sorry for him when he laid his head down with a groan, and I subsequently surmised that Sally had overheard part, at least, of the conversation, for when the lad, who had perhaps not wholly recovered from the weakness of the shock, sank into sleep, she called me.
"It's all my fault, and I'll never forgive myself; but I never guessed he'd rush the fence," she said. "They couldn't put him in prison?"
"They might turn him out of the service, which, in his eyes, would be worse," I answered dryly. "It should be a lesson to you, Sally. You can't help being pretty, but that is no reason why you should so often lead some unfortunate man into difficulties."
Sally's penitent expression vanished, and there was a flash in her eyes. "You are so foolish, all of you, and I guess you needn't look wise, Harry Ormesby. He is perhaps a little worse than the rest—and that's why one likes him. When he wakes, you and Charlie have justgot to take those tight things off him and put him in your berth. If anybody wants him the next day or two they'll have to tackle me."
We did so presently, and, after seeing that our patient was comfortable, Sally returned, wearing his uniform tunic. "How does this fit me?" she asked.
Steel looked angry, and I grew thoughtful. Nobody who knew her was, as a rule, astonished at Sally's actions, but she asked the question soberly, with no trace of mischief.
"Do you wish me to say that you would look well in anything?" I asked.
"I don't. You can tell lies enough when you trade horses," she answered tartly. "It's a plain question—how does this thing fit me?"
"Tolerably well," and I surveyed her critically. "It is a trifle large, but if you don't draw it in too much at the waist it wouldn't fit you badly. Are you going to turn police trooper, Sally?"
Miss Steel was not generally bashful, but she looked a trifle confused as she answered: "Don't ask any more fool questions."
I went out soon afterwards to overhaul a plow under a shed, and had spent considerable time over it, when Steel approached with a lantern. "Have you seen anything of Sally?" he asked.
"No," I answered carelessly. "What mischief has she been contriving now?"
"That's just what I'm anxious to know; that, and where the corporal's horse is," he said. "They're both missing, and Cotton's fast asleep. I"—and Steel used a few illegal expletives before he continued—"I can't find his uniform either."
"It must be somewhere. You can't have looked properly," I said; and Steel restrained himself with an effort.
"You can try yourself, and I'd give a hundred dollars, if I had it, to see you find it," he said.
I hurriedly left the plow, but though we hunted everywhere could discover no trace of the missing uniform."I didn't think we would," said the harassed brother, with a groan of dismay. "She's—well, the Lord only knows what Sally would do if she took the notion, and there's no shirking the trouble. I've got to find out if she has the whole blame outfit on."
"I'll leave you to settle that point," I said; and hearing the locked door of Sally's portion of the house wrenched open and garments being hurled about, I surmised that Steel was prosecuting his inquiries. He flung the split door to with a crash when he came out, leaving, as I saw by a brief glimpse, ruin behind him, and he grew very red in the face as he looked at me.
"It will be a mighty relief when she marries somebody," he said gloomily. "The only comfort is that you're a sensible man, and one could trust you, Ormesby. You will never breathe a word of this. There's no use trying to catch her, for she can get as much out of a beast as any man."
I pledged myself willingly, smothering a wild desire to laugh; and, as it happened, it was I who met the truant riding home very wearily two days later. Her mount was a chestnut, while Cotton's horse was gray, and there was a bundle strapped before her. Still, except for a spattering of mire, she was dressed in a manner befitting a young lady, and actually blushed crimson when I accosted her.
"Where have you been, Sally, and where did you get the horse?"
"In to the railroad; and I borrowed him from Carsley's wife. They'll send the corporal's over," she said. "I'm very tired, Harry Ormesby. Won't you get me supper instead of worrying me?"
Silence seemed best, and I could not resist the appeal, and so hurried back to set about the supper; while what passed between brother and sister I do not know, though when they came in together Sally appeared triumphant and Steel in a very bad humor.
"I'm going to see whether you have let the patient starve. You'll come along with me," she said, when she came out of her own quarters, with no trace of thejourney about her. We entered the lean-to shed, which Steel and I occupied together, and found Cotton better in health, though as depressed as he had been all day. Sally held out a bag and a handful of documents towards him.
"There are your papers and money. Now all you have to do is to get well again," she said demurely.
There was no mistaking the relief in the corporal's face, and he positively clutched at the articles she handed him. "You don't know what this has saved me from. But how did you get them?"
A flush of tell-tale color crept into Sally's cheeks, and I noticed that her voice was not quite steady as she answered him. "You must solemnly promise never to ask that again, or to tell anyone you were not at the depot yourself. Nobody will ask you, we fixed it up so well. Now promise, before I take them back again."
The lad did so, and Sally glanced at me. "If Harry Ormesby ever tells you I'll poison him."
I do not think Corporal Cotton ever discovered Sally's part, or who personated him, though he apparently suspected both Steel and myself; but when we went out together I turned to the girl: "Just one question, and then we'll forget it. How did you manage at the depot, Sally?"
Miss Steel avoided my glance, but she laughed. "It was very dark, there was only a half-trimmed lamp, and the agent was 'most asleep. It's pretty easy, anyway, to fool a man," she said.