A Damaged Reputation

Brooke closed one hand a trifle, and the bronze deepened in his face. The opportunity Saxton had been waiting for was now, it seemed, being thrust upon him, and yet he felt that he could not avail himself of it. It was clear that he had everything to gain by doing so, but there was, he realized now, a treachery he could not descend to. He strove to persuade himself that this was a sentimental weakness, for it had become even more apparent of late that with the knowledge he had gained of that country there would be no great difficulty in making his way once he had the dollars he had been robbed of again in his hands, and he had had a bitter taste of the life that must be dragged through by the man with none. Still, the fact that his instincts, which, as occasionally happens to other men, would not be controlled by his reason, revolted from the part he must play if he made terms with Devine, remained, and he sat very still, with forehead wrinkled and one hand clenched, until his companion, who had never taken his eyes off him, spoke again.

"It doesn't sound good enough?" he said.

Brooke shook himself together. "As a matter of fact, I am very doubtful if I shall get quite as good an offer again. Still, I am afraid I can't quite see my way to entertaining it."

"No?" said Devine. "I guess you have your reasons?"

Brooke felt that he could scarcely consider the motive which had induced him to answer as he did a reason. It was rather an impulse he could not hold in check, or the result of a prejudice, but he could not explain this, and what was under the circumstances a somewhat illogical bitterness against Devine took possession of him.

"When I first came into this province my confiding simplicity cost me a good deal, and I almost think I should rather feel myself impelled to warn any of my countrymen I came into contact with against making rash ventures in land and mines than induce them to do so," he said.

Devine smiled drily. "That is tolerably plain talk, anyway. Still, it ought to be clear that a man can't keep on taking folks' dollars without giving them reasonable value anywhere. No, sir. As soon as they find out he has only worthless goods to sell, they stop dealing with him right away. There's another point. Are they all fools who come out from England to buy mines and ranching land?"

"I have certainly met a few who seemed to be. Of course, I include myself," said Brooke, grimly.

"Well, you can take it from me, and I ought to know, that there are folks back yonder quite as smart at getting one hundred and fifty cents for the dollar's worth as any man in Canada. We needn't, however, worry about that. I made you an offer, and you have quite decided that it wouldn't suit you?"

Again Brooke sat silent a space. He felt in some degree bound to Saxton, though he had certainly earned every dollar the latter had handed him, and it had been agreed that a verbal intimation from either would suffice to terminate the compact between them. There was also no reason why he should do anything that would prejudice him if he entered Devine's service, and a very faint hope commenced to dawn on him that there might be a way out of the difficulty. Devine appeared to be a reasonable man, and he determined to at least give him an opportunity.

"It is probably an unusual course under the circumstances, but before I decide I would like to ask a question," he said. "We will suppose that you or one of your agents had sold a man who did not know what he was buying a tract of worthless land, and he demanded compensation. What would you do?"

"The man would naturally look at the land and use his discretion."

"We'll assume that he didn't. Men who come into this country at a time when everybody is eager to buy now and then most unwisely take a land-agent's statements for granted. Even if they surveyed the property offered them they would not very often be able to form any opinion of its value."

"Then," said Devine, drily, "they take their chances, and can't blame the other man."

"Still, if the buyer convinced you that your agent knew the land was worth nothing when he sold it him?"

Devine glanced at him sharply. "That would be a little difficult, but I'll answer you. I've been stuck with a good many bad bargains in my time, and I never went back and tried to cry off one of them. No, sir. I took hold and worried the most I could out of them. Nobody quite knows what a piece of land in this country is or will be worth, except that it's quite certain every rod of it is going to be some use for something, and bring in dollars to the man who holds on to it, presently."

"Then you would not make the victim any compensation?"

"No, sir. Not a cent. I shouldn't consider him a victim. That's quite straight?"

"I scarcely think anybody would consider it ambiguous," Brooke said, drily, for he felt his face grow warm, and realized that it was not advisable to give the anger that was gaining on him the rein. "It demands an equal candor, and I have given you one of my reasons for deciding that it would not suit me to enter your service. I can't help wondering what induced you to make me the offer."

Devine laughed. "Well," he said, reflectively, "so am I. I had, as I told you, a notion that I might have a use for a man of the kind you seem to be, but I'm not quite so sure of it now. Though I don't know that I'm especially thin in the skin, some of the questions you seem fond of asking might make trouble between you and me. For another thing, on thinking it over afterwards, it struck me that the team might have tilted that wagon off the bridge this afternoon. I'm not sure that they would have done, but you came along handy."

He rose with a little sardonic smile and went into the hotel, leaving Brooke sitting on the verandah and staring at the dusky forest vacantly, for his thoughts were not exactly pleasant just then. He had been offered a chance Saxton, at least, would have eagerly seized upon, and it was becoming evident that there was little of the stuff successful conspirators are made of in him. He could not ignore the fact that it was a conspiracy they were engaged in, for he meant to get his six thousand dollars back, and found it especially galling to remember that it was a kindness Devine had purposed doing him.

He had also misgivings as to what his confederate – for that was, he recognized, the most fitting term he could apply to Saxton – would have to say about his decision, and after all it was evident that he owed him a little. Once more he fumed at his folly in ever buying the ranch, for all his difficulties sprang from that mistake, and he felt he could not face the result of it and drag out his days cut off from all that made life bearable, a mere wielder of axe and shovel, without a struggle, even though it left a mark on him which could never be quite effaced.

The freighter came in early next morning with the drills, and Brooke, who hired pack-horses, set off with them, but as he drove the loaded beasts out of the clearing he saw Devine watching him from the verandah, with a little smile. He made a salutation, and Brooke, for no apparent reason, jerked the leading pack-horse's bridle somewhat viciously. It was a long journey to the mine, and there were several difficult ascents upon the way, but he reached it safely, and found Saxton expecting him impatiently. They spent an hour or two getting the drills to work, and then sat down to a meal in the galvanized shanty.

Saxton was damp and stained with soil, his long boots were miry, and one of his hands was bleeding, but he laughed a little as he glanced at the heavy, doughy bread and untempting canned stuff on the table and round the comfortless room.

"I guess I don't get my dollars easily," he said. "There are quite a few ways of making them, but the one the sensible man has the least use for is with the hammer and drill. Still, I'm going back to the city, and we'll try another one presently. You'll stay here about a week, and then there'll be work for you. I've heard of something while you were away."

"So have I!" said Brooke. "I met Devine, and he gave me an opportunity of entering his service."

Saxton became suddenly eager. "You took it?"

"No," said Brooke, drily, "I did not. I had one or two reasons for not doing so, though I feel it is very probable that you would not appreciate them."

Saxton stared at him in astonishment, and then made a little gesture of resignation. "Well," he said, "I guess I wouldn't – after what I've seen of you. Still, can't you understand what kind of chance you've thrown away? I might have made 'most anything out of the pointers you could have picked up and given me."

Brooke smiled drily. "I don't think you could," he said. "As a matter of fact, I wouldn't have given you any."

Saxton turned towards him resolutely, with his elbows planted on the table and his black eyes intent. "Now," he said, "I want a straight answer. Are you going back on your bargain?"

"No. If I had meant to do that, I should naturally have taken Devine's offer. As I have told you a good many times already, I am going to get my six thousand dollars out of him. That is, of course, if we can manage it, about which I am more than a little doubtful."

Saxton laughed contemptuously. "You would never get six dollars out of anybody who wasn't quite willing to let you have them," he said. "A struggling man has no use for the notions you seem proud of."

"I really can't help having them," said Brooke, with a little smile.

Saxton shook his head. "Well," he said, "it's fortunate you're not going to be left to yourself, or somebody would take the clothes off you. Now, I've heard from a friend of mine, who has a contract to build the Canopus folks a flume. It seems they want more water, and it's Devine's mine."

"How is that going to help us?"

"Since Leeson made that contract, he got the offer of another that would pay him better, and he's willing to pass it on at Devine's figure to any one who will take it off his hands. Now, I'll find you a man or two and tools, and when they're ready, you'll start right away for the Canopus and build that flume."

"The difficulty is that I haven't the least notion how to build a flume."

Saxton made a little impatient gesture. "Then I guess you have got to learn, and there are plenty of men to be hired in the bush who do. You know how to rough down redwood logs and blow out rocks?"

Brooke admitted that he did, and Saxton nodded.

"Then the thing's quite easy," he said. "You look at the one they've got already, and make another like it. Haven't you found out yet that a man can do 'most anything that another one can?"

"Well," said Brooke, "I'll try it, but that brings us to the question, what else do you expect from me? It is very probable that I shall make an unfortunate mistake for both of us, if you leave me in the dark. I want to understand the position."

Saxton explained it at length, and Brooke leaned back in his chair, glancing abstractedly through the open door as he listened, for his mind took in the details mechanically, while his thoughts were otherwise busy. He saw the dusky forest he had toiled and lost hope in, and then, turning his head a trifle, the comfortless dingy room and Saxton's intent face and eager eyes. He was speaking with little nervous gestures, vehemently, and all the sensibility that the struggle had left in Brooke shrank from the sordidness of the compact he had made with him. The fact that his confederate apparently considered their purpose perfectly legitimate and even commendable, intensified the disgust he felt, but once more he told himself that he could not afford to be particular. There was, it seemed, a price to everything, and if he was ever to regain his status he must let no more opportunities slip past him.

Still the memory of the old house in the English valley, and a certain silver-haired lady who had long ago paced the velvet lawns that swept about it with her white hand upon his shoulder, returned to trouble him. She had endeavored to instil the fine sense of honor that guided her own life into him, and he remembered her wholesome pride and the stories she had told him of the men who had gone forth from that quiet home before him. Most of them had served their nation well, even those who had hewn down the ancient oaks and mortgaged the wheat-land in the reckless Georgian days, and now, when the white-haired lady slept in the still valley, he was about to sell the honor she had held priceless for six thousand dollars in Western Canada. Nevertheless, he strove to persuade himself that the times had changed and the old codes vanished, and sat still listening while Saxton, stained with soil and water from the mine, talked on, and gesticulated with a bleeding hand. He touched upon frontages, ore-leads, record and patents from the Crown, and then stopped abruptly, and looked hard at Brooke.

"Now I think you've got it all," he said.

"Yes," said Brooke, whose face had grown a trifle grim, "I fancy I have. I am to find out, if I can, how far the third drift runs west, and when the driving of it began. Then one of us will stake off a claim on Devine's holding and endeavor, with the support of the other, to hold his own in as tough a struggle as was probably ever undertaken by two men in our position. You see I have met Devine."

Saxton laughed. "I guess he's not going to give us very much trouble. He'll buy us off instead, once we make it plain that we have got the whip hand of him. Your share's six thousand dollars, and if you lay them out as I tell you, you'll go back to England a prosperous man."

Brooke smiled a trifle drily. "I hope so," he said. "Still, I shall have left more than I could buy with a great many dollars behind me in Canada."

"Dollars will buy you anything," said Saxton. "That is, when you have enough of them. They're going to buy me a seat in the Provincial Legislature by and by. Then I'll let the business slide, and start in doing something for the other folks. We've got 'most everything but men here, and I'll bring out your starving deadbeats from England and make them happy – like Strathcona."

Brooke looked hard at him, and then leaned back in his chair, and laughed when he saw that he was perfectly serious.

X.

THE FLUME BUILDER

It was a hot afternoon, and a long trail of ethereal mist lay motionless athwart the gleaming snow above, when Brooke stood dripping with perspiration in the shadow of a towering pine. The red dust was thick upon him, and his coarse blue shirt, which was badly torn, fell open at the neck as he turned his head and looked down fixedly into the winding valley. A lake flashed like a mirror among the trees below, save where the slumbering shadows pointed downwards into its crystal depths, but the strip of hillside the forest had been hewn back from was scarred and torn with raw gashes, and the dull thumping of the stamp-heads that crushed the gold-bearing quartz jarred discordantly through the song of the river. Mounds of débris, fire-blackened fir stumps, and piles of half-burnt branches cumbered the little clearing, round which the towering redwoods uplifted their stately spires, and the acrid fumes of smoke and giant powder drifted through their drowsy fragrance.

The blotch of man's crude handiwork marred the pristine beauty of the wilderness; but it had its significance, and pointed to what was to come when the plough had followed the axe and drill, and cornfields and orchards should creep up the hillsides where now the solemn pines looked down upon the desecrated valley. Brooke, however, was very naturally not concerned with this just then. He was engaged in building a flume, or wooden conduit to bring down water to the mine, and was intently watching two little trails of faint blue smoke with a thin red sparkle in the midst of them which crept up a dark rock's side.

He had no interest whatever in the task when he undertook it, but a somewhat astonishing and unexpected thing had happened, for by degrees the work took hold of him. He was not by nature a lounger, and was endued with a certain pertinacity, which had, however, only led him into difficulties hitherto, or he would probably never have come out to Canada. Thus it came about that when he found the building of the flume taxed all his ingenuity, as well as his physical strength, he became sensible of a wholly unanticipated pleasure in the necessary effort, and had almost forgotten the purpose which brought him there.

"How long did you cut those fuses to burn?" he said to Jimmy, who, though by no means fond of physical exertion, had come up to assist him from the ranch.

The latter glanced at the two trails of smoke, which a handful of men, snugly ensconced behind convenient trees, were also watching.

"I guessed it at four minutes," he said. "They're 'bout half-way through now. Still, I can't see nothing of the third one."

"No," said Brooke. "Nor can I. That loosely-spun kind snuffs out occasionally. Quite sure they're not more than half-way through?"

"No," said Jimmy, reflectively. "I'd give them 'most two minutes yet. Hallo! What in the name of thunder are you going to do?"

It was not an unnatural question, because when those creeping trains of sparks reached the detonators the rock would be reft asunder by giant powder and a shower of ponderous fragments and flying débris hurled across the valley, while Brooke, who swung round abruptly, bounded down the slope.

Jimmy stared at him in wonder, and then set off without reflection in chase of him. He was not addicted to hurrying himself when it was not necessary, but he ran well that day, with the vague intention of dragging back his comrade, whose senses, he fancied, had suddenly deserted him. The men behind the trees were evidently under the same impression, for confused cries went up.

"Go back! Stop right there! Catch him, Jimmy; trip him up!"

Jimmy did his best, but he was slouching and loose of limb, while Brooke was light of foot and young. He was also running his hardest, with grim face and set lips, straight for the rock, and was scrambling across the débris beneath it, which rolled down at every step, when Jimmy reached up and caught his leg. He said nothing, but when Brooke slid backwards, grabbed his jacket, which tore up the back; and there was a shout from the men behind the trees, two of whom came running towards the pair.

"Pull him down! No, let go of him, and tear the fuses out!"

Nobody saw exactly what took place next, and neither Brooke nor Jimmy afterwards remembered; but in another moment the latter sat gasping among the débris, while his comrade clambered up the slope alone. It also happened, though everybody was too intent to notice this, that a girl, with brown eyes and a big white hat, who had been strolling through the shadow of the pines on the ridge above, stopped abruptly just then. She could see the trail of sparks creep across the stone, and understood the position, which the shouts of the miners would have made plain to her if she had not. She could not see the man's face, though she realized that he was in imminent peril, and felt her heart throb painfully. Then, in common with the rest of those who watched him, she had a second astonishment, for he did not pull out the burning fuses, but crawled past them, and bent over something with a lighted match in his hand.

Brooke in the meanwhile set his lips as the match went out, and struck another, while a heavy silence followed the shouts. The men, who grasped his purpose, now realized that interference would come too late, and those who had started from them went back to the trees. There only remained Brooke, clinging with one hand to a cranny of the rock while he held the match, whose diminutive flame showed pale in the blaze of sunlight, and Jimmy, rising apparently half-dazed from among the débris. The girl in the white hat afterwards recalled that picture, and could see the two lonely men, blurred figures in the shadows, and clustering pines. When that happened, she also felt a curious little thrill which was half-horror and half-appreciation.

Then the third fuse sparkled, and Brooke sprang down, grasped Jimmy's shoulder, and drove him before him. There was a fresh shouting, and now every one could see two men running for their lives for the shelter of the pines. It seemed a very long while before they reached them, and all the time three blue trails of smoke and sparkling lines of fire were creeping with remorseless certainty up the slope of stone. The girl upon the ridge above closed her hands tightly to check a scream, and bronzed men, who had braved a good many perils in their time, set their lips or murmured incoherently.

In the meanwhile the two men were running well, with drawn faces, staring eyes, and the perspiration dripping from them, and there was a hoarse murmur of relief when at last they flung themselves into the shadow of the pines. It was followed by a stunning detonation, and a blaze of yellow flame, while the hillside trembled when the smoke rolled down. Flying fragments of rock came out of it, there was a roar of falling stones, a crashing in the forest where great boughs snapped, and the lake boiled as though torn up by cannon shot. Then a curious silence followed, intensified by an occasional splash and rattle as a stone which had travelled farther than the rest came down, and the girl in the white hat retired hastily as the fumes of giant powder, which produce dizziness and nausea, drifted up the hillside.

Brooke sat down on a felled log, Jimmy leaned against a tree, and while the men clustered round them they looked at one another, and gasped heavily.

"I figured you'd be blown into very little pieces less than a minute ago," said one of those who stood by. "What did you do it for, anyway?"

Brooke blinked at the questioner. "Third fuse snuffed out," he said. "It would have spoiled the shot. I cut it to match the others, and lighted it."

This was comprehensible, for to rend a piece of rock effectively, it is occasionally necessary to apply the riving force at several places at the same time.

"Still, you could have pulled the other fuses out and put new ones back. It would have been considerably less risky," said another man.

Brooke laughed breathlessly. "It certainly would, but I never thought of that," he said.

Then Jimmy broke in. "What made me sit down like I did?" he said.

"It was probably the same thing that tore my jacket half-way up the back."

"Well," said Jimmy, "there's a big lump there didn't use to be on the side of my head, too, and it was the concernedest hardest kind of rock I sat down upon. Next time you try to blow yourself up, I'm not going after you."

Brooke glanced at him quietly, with a curious look in his eyes.

"What made you come at all?" he said.

Jim appeared to reflect. "I've done quite a lot of foolish things before – and I don't quite know."

Brooke only smiled, but a little flush crept into Jimmy's face, for men do not express their sentiments dramatically in that country, that is, unless they are connected with mineral speculations or the selling of land.

"Of course!" he said. "I fancy I shall remember it."

They turned away together to inspect the result of the shot, and one of the miners who looked after them nodded approval. "When that man takes hold of anything he puts it through 'most every time," he said. "There's good hard sand in him."

In the meanwhile Jimmy glanced at his comrade, apparently with an entire absence of interest, out of half-closed eyes.

"I guess you were too busy to see a friend of yours a little while ago?" he said.

"I expect I was," said Brooke. "Anyway, nobody I'm acquainted with is likely to be met with in this part of the province, unless it was Saxton."

"No," said Jimmy, "it wasn't him. Saxton doesn't go trailing round in a big white hat and a four-decker skirt with a long tail to it."

Brooke turned a trifle sharply, and glanced at him. "You mean Miss Heathcote?"

"Yes," said Jimmy, reflectively, "if it's the one that was Barbara last time, I guess I do. You have been finding out the rest of it since you met her at the ranch? She was up yonder ten minutes ago."

He pointed to a forest-covered ridge above the mine, but Brooke, looking up with all his eyes, saw nothing but the serried ranks of climbing pines. As it happened, however, the girl, who stood amidst their shadows, saw him, and smiled. She had noticed Jimmy's pointing hand, and fancied she knew what his companion was looking for.