Partners of the Out-Trail

Jim laughed. He had sent to London for the American spring rocking-chair that clashed with the old oak in the hall, but it was a pattern Mrs. Winter liked and he was satisfied. He ate his muffin silently, for he was tired, and Carrie's remarks had wakened memories of other fires that burned among the tall straight trunks in the Canadian wilds; he thought he could hear the snow-fed river brawl, and smell the smoke that drifted in blue wreaths about the lonely camp. Carrie had laughed and bantered him then and he had been happy. He was happy now and hoped to be happier yet, but Carrie was often quiet and he had a puzzling feeling that he had lost something he could not recapture.

Presently she picked up a local newspaper and lighted a candle with a shade. The light only spread a yard or two, but it touched the page she folded back and sparkled in her hair.

"They have got a master for the otter-hounds!" she exclaimed, and then her color rose and her eyes went hard. "I don't know the committee, but if the others are like Hodson, they're solemn old fools."

"I'd rather have liked the post, but it doesn't matter much," said Jim, and added, with a smile: "Now you're like the Carrie who went North with us."

"Bernard meant you to have the hounds; he's a dear, although some stupid people are afraid of him," Carrie went on. "He'd certainly have fixed it if he hadn't got lame again. But I remember – Dick went to their old meeting and was mad about something afterwards. I think it was something about Lance Mordaunt – now I begin to see!"

"I don't think it's worth while your bothering about the thing."

"Don't interrupt!" said Carrie. "I'm going to talk. Lance doesn't like you, and I imagine Dick doesn't trust him. Dick is smart sometimes and knows Lance is mean. He is mean; he has a yellow streak – "

She stopped, for she saw Jim's frown. He was not vexed with her, but her statement chimed with some vague doubts of his. She got up and made him a formal curtsy.

"I'm sorry, Jim. That was the Carrie you knew in the woods. If you don't want her, you oughtn't to burn logs and sit by the fire when it's getting dark, as we used to do. But she has gone back to the shadows that creep among the pines, and I don't think she will come out again."

She pulled up an easy-chair, and when she sat down and shielded her face from the fire with her hand Jake's eyes twinkled. He wondered whether Jim saw she was cleverly imitating Evelyn's graceful languidness. After a few moments she indicated the dark oak paneling and old furniture.

"That's your proper background, Jim, when you frown. It's plain that you belong to Langrigg. When you fought the Scots and hunted wolves I expect you often looked like you looked just now."

"But I didn't fight the Scots," Jim objected.

"Your people did," said Carrie. "Sometimes you're very dull."

Jim laughed and glanced at her. Flames leaped up round the logs and the red light played about her face. Her color was rather marked, she looked strangely alert and forceful, and something about her dress gave her a touch of stateliness, for Carrie had well chosen her English clothes. Jim knew her to be staunch and fearless, and although her humor was sometimes puzzling he felt her charm.

"By George!" he said impulsively, "I think you belong to the old days as much as I belong. One could have trusted you to hold the tower against all comers when your man went off to hunt."

Carrie held her hand to her face a moment, as if the fire were hot, and then smiled as she looked up.

"If my man had gone off often, I would have taken the wolf-spear and gone with him."

Mrs. Winter, who had quietly studied both, began to talk about something else, and presently a servant brought in some letters. Jim moved the shaded candle and opened his, but after a time put one down and looked straight in front, knitting his brows.

"What is it, partner?" Jake asked.

"I have got a knock. I told my Vancouver agent to sell some shares and send along a check. He says I'd better wait; the market's very flat."

"Then you bought the Bench-lands Irrigation stock?"

"I did. I have invested most of the money I got for the Bluebird mine."

"All ours is at the Merchants' Bank," Carrie remarked. "Jake wanted to buy Irrigation stock, but I wouldn't let him. However, the company ought to make good."

"I hope so. Jeffreys is doubtful. I bought because I know the Bench country and Martin was interested in the scheme. It seems they are having trouble about their water rights and an order has been granted to stop the ditches. Jeffreys says nobody wants the stock just now and imagines the lawsuit may go against them."

"Will this make things awkward for you?"

"To some extent. Langrigg costs much to run and the dykes are expensive. I'll get my farm rents soon, but they won't go very far. For all that, the dykes must be finished; it's the only way to get back the money I have spent."

"Besides, you want to finish them," Carrie suggested.

"That is so," Jim agreed. "You can't leave a job half done."

He began to ponder and struggle with a disturbing doubt. If the Irrigation Company failed, he must use economy, because the farm rents would not enable him to live at Langrigg like a country gentleman. For himself, this did not matter much; he did not want a number of servants and gardeners. But Evelyn was used to the extravagance at Whitelees, and he knew Mrs. Halliday's views.

"Well," said Carrie, "to begin with, the dykes must be finished. When your money runs out you will use ours."

"Carrie speaks for the rest of us," Jake declared. "What she says goes."

Jim hardly understood the emotion by which he was moved and said awkwardly: "Thanks! You're generous, but I can't let you pay for my mistakes."

"We are partners, Jim," said Carrie. "Until you break the partnership, all that's ours is yours. Go on with the dykes and when you need money, ask Jake for a check."

"Give him the book," said Mrs. Winter. "Jake can sign some forms."

Jim hesitated and smiled to hide his embarrassment. "We'll wait. I'm not broken yet, and since Martin is backing the scheme things can't go very wrong. However, it's lucky they didn't make me master of hounds."

In the evening he went to Dryholm and dined with Bernard at a small table in the spacious room. Afterwards they sat by the fire talking quietly. Flickering reflections played about the carved marble and bright steel; electric lights, half-hidden by the cornice, threw down a soft light, and Bernard looked old and worn as he leaned back languidly in his big chair.

"Since you have begun to drain the marsh, we may take it for granted you are going to stay at Langrigg," he said.

"Yes, I mean to stay."

"Then it's obvious that you ought to marry."

"I don't know if it's obvious or not," Jim rejoined. "However, since you are the head of the house, I dare say you are entitled to feel some curiosity."

Bernard smiled. "Suppose you think about me as an old man who would like to be your friend."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Jim. "We're an independent lot in Canada and I've fought for my own hand since I was a boy. Anyhow, I mean to marry Evelyn, if she is willing."

"It looks as if you had not asked her yet."

"I have not; I'm half-afraid. In one way, it would be a rash plunge for a girl like Evelyn. Though I've inherited Langrigg, I'm a Western adventurer; I've lived with rough men in the wilds. She's refined and cultivated. Well, I've gone slow, trying to persuade myself I was justified before I persuaded her. Then I wanted her, so to speak, to get used to me."

"You are modest," Bernard remarked. "You imply that Evelyn does not know."

"I don't think she knows. I have been cautious. If I hinted at my hopes too soon, she might get disturbed and alarmed."

Bernard smiled. "Well, perhaps you have taken a prudent line. But do you imagine your reserve has deceived Janet Halliday?"

"Perhaps it has not; Mrs. Halliday is clever. I think she is my friend."

"It's possible," Bernard agreed, with a touch of ironical humor. "How long do you think you must give Evelyn, in order to avoid the jar she might get if you prematurely revealed your hopes?"

Jim knitted his brows. He was used to Bernard's cynical dryness and trusted him. "It will be longer than I thought," he answered, grimly. "I have had a bad set-back."

He told Bernard about the risk of his losing his money, and the latter was silent for a minute or two. Then he remarked: "I suppose you see that if I thought it a good plan I could help you out."

"That is not why I told you," said Jim. "I could not take your help."

"I imagined you would not. Well, perhaps your frankness accounts for our friendship. You are unembarrassed because you have no grounds for indulging my caprices and expect nothing from me."

Jim made a little abrupt movement. He had once said something like that; to Mordaunt, he thought.

"Very well," Bernard resumed. "If you think I can help, I am willing; but I will not insist."

"Thank you," said Jim, "I must trust my own efforts."

Bernard lighted a cigar and pondered. He was satisfied and somewhat amused. It would not have cost him much to banish Jim's difficulties and he would have liked to earn his gratitude, but was glad the other had refused. It was better that Jim's troubles about money should not be banished yet. He was something of a romantic fool; but Bernard knew Evelyn was not. By and by he led Jim into confidential talk about his investments in Canada and his plans for developing his new estate, and then let him go.

When Jim had gone, he sat by the fire, thinking hard, and after a time sent a servant to the library for a bundle of architect's drawings. The drawings gave the plans and elevation of a new hospital and Bernard thought the plain, straight front, looked mean. Knowing something about building, he saw how it could be altered and ornamented, and the hospital enlarged, if funds permitted. He was one of the founders and thought it might be advisable to augment his gift.

Next day he went to Whitelees and was received by Mrs. Halliday in her drawing-room, which always annoyed him. He felt he wanted to clear out Janet's room and furnish it on another plan. Bernard hated sensual prettiness and liked bold, clean lines and subdued color. Besides, his gout was rather bad, the fragile chair was uncomfortable, and he could not rest his foot. When the pain gripped him he frowned, and Mrs. Halliday remarked that he was not looking well.

"I am getting old and have recently felt my age," he replied. "One must pay for a strenuous youth, and it's becoming plain that I ought to straighten my affairs while the opportunity is mine."

Mrs. Halliday looked sympathetic and felt curious. She had wondered when Bernard would give her his confidence. "Well," she said, "I suppose this is one's duty, although I hope you have no particular grounds for imagining it needful just now."

"One cannot tell," Bernard remarked. "Anyhow, I have responsibilities that must not be shirked. Well, Evelyn and Lance will get a share of my property; in fact, I have made some provision for them."

"I expect you have been generous," said Mrs. Halliday, who wondered how far she durst go. "But what about Jim?"

"His claim will need some thought. For that matter, he has hinted that he is satisfied with Langrigg. Independence like his is not common and perhaps ought to be indulged."

Mrs. Halliday was disturbed, but Bernard did not seem to be curious about her feelings and resumed: "In the meantime, I've been thinking about the new Brunstock hospital and am going to see the committee. Since you promised us a donation, I have brought the plans." He unrolled the elevation and gave it her. "This is not the kind of building we want and I mean to propose some alterations."

He indicated the alterations, and Mrs. Halliday said: "But it will cost a very large sum."

"I expect so. My money came from the iron mines; the Brunstock pitmen and furnace men earned the most part for me. A number get hurt and it is just that I should give them something back. Then if we called it the Dearham hospital, as the committee suggest, the building would keep my memory green, and I am vain enough to prefer a handsome monument."

"In some ways it is a good ambition," Mrs. Halliday agreed, although she was puzzled, for she thought Bernard had an object he had not stated. He certainly was not vain.

"Of course," he went on, "one must be just to one's relations, and it would be harsh to leave out Jim altogether. Still, you see, he's rash; we have an example in his dyking plan, and I would not like my money squandered. I expect you know he has lost much of his in a Canadian speculation?"

Mrs. Halliday did not know and got something of a jar. She gave Bernard a quick and rather anxious glance.

"But if he has lost his, your gift would be more needful."

Bernard made a sign of disagreement. "The drawback is, Jim might use it as rashly as he has used the rest."

"They sometimes waste money at hospitals."

"That is so, but if I carry out my plans, there will not be much waste at Brunstock. I have been pondering some stipulations, and if I give them a proper endowment, the trustees must consent."

"Do you mean to endow the new wards? We understood you would be satisfied with giving part of what they needed for the original building."

"Of course," said Bernard. "Since I'm going to urge the extension, I must find the money. The hospital is getting a hobby of mine and I may make the endowment much larger than I meant." He got up. "It's a long drive and I must not keep the committee."

He went off and Mrs. Halliday tried to brace herself. She had grounds for disturbance, but she must think. If Bernard carried out his plans, it was obvious that she must change hers.

CHAPTER XI

EVELYN'S ADVENTURE

After Bernard had gone, Mrs. Halliday talked to Evelyn. At first she was cautious and rather implied than stated her meaning, but by degrees she threw off her reserve. Although Evelyn and her mother generally agreed, Mrs. Halliday felt she was antagonistic, and this disturbed her. Evelyn was not romantic; as a rule, her judgment was cool and sound, but she was human, and it began to look as if she were strongly attracted by Jim Dearham.

"On the whole, it would be better if you did not go to Langrigg to-morrow," Mrs. Halliday concluded. "You can make an excuse."

"I think not," said Evelyn. "You urged me not to disappoint Jim the last time we went, but we will let this go. Now he has had bad luck, it would look significant if you suddenly withdrew your approval. He knew it was his not long since."

"In a way, I am forced to withdraw it. I like Jim – "

"But you do not like him to be poor," Evelyn interrupted with a smile. "Well, it seems to me a proper and tactful line for his friends to rally round him when he is in trouble."

"One can, of course, be sympathetic if one meets him."

Evelyn laughed. "But one need not go too far?" She paused and gave her mother a steady look. "Langrigg is a fine old house, I don't suppose Jim is ruined, and I have some money. Then you have taught me to expect that I may get some more."

"Bernard is capricious. He has a bitter humor and may disappoint us all. You have come to think refinement needful; you are extravagant and could not live with an impoverished husband. Let me beg you not to be obstinate and rash."

"Ah," said Evelyn, "I sometimes felt I would like to be rash, but was not brave enough. I do not know if I have much courage now."

Mrs. Halliday got up. Perhaps she had said enough and after all one could trust Evelyn when she was cool. It looked as if the girl's disappointment had been sharp, and the wise plan was to leave her alone. Yet she was puzzled; Evelyn had given signs of a recklessness her mother thought new.

When Mrs. Halliday went out Evelyn tried to formulate her thoughts. To begin with, her mother's calculating caution repelled her; it had made her feel shabby. Then she had, no doubt, taken much for granted. Jim had, perhaps, had bad luck, but this did not mean that he was impoverished, and after all there were many expensive things one could go without. She was not as greedy as some people thought. Indeed, it would be rather fine to make a plunge; to let cold caution go and play a romantic part.

She mused about Jim. He was marked by a certain roughness, but he had dignity. He gave one pleasant thrills – there was the scene on the dyke when she was half-shocked and yet strangely moved. His physical fineness appealed; his figure was like an old Greek athlete's, his face was sharply cut and somehow ascetic. He was hot-blooded, but one knew he was not gross. His was a clean virility.

Evelyn thought she loved him, as much as she could love anybody, for she had not been touched by passion, and it counted for something that he loved her. The reserve he thought he used was, of course, ridiculous. Evelyn resolved she would go to Langrigg and sympathize with Jim. Then she would wait and by and by her feelings might get stronger and she would see her way. She would not admit that the possibility of learning whether Jim would get over his difficulties had some influence.

Next evening she went to Langrigg, without Mrs. Halliday, who made an excuse. Jim called for her with his car, and, for the most part, she was quiet and he did not talk much. There were steep hills and awkward corners as they ran down from the rolling country to the plain. The evening was calm and the noise of the sea came softly out of the distance. Now and then plover and curlew cried, a half-moon hung in the west, and the black hills rose out of fleecy mist. Evelyn was imaginative and liked the drive across the flat holms in the dark. It was romantic ground, rich with traditions of the old Border raids, and now as she watched Jim, sitting, absorbed, with his hands on the wheel, she felt he, so to speak, dated back. He drove the powerful modern car with ease and skill, but somehow she imagined him wearing steel cap and leather jack and guiding a shaggy pony. Perhaps it was the picture in a hall she knew that haunted her. One saw the shadowy horsemen and glitter of spears in the moonlight.

Meanwhile, she gave herself to irresolute thought. Jim had some advantages and some drawbacks; Evelyn saw the drawbacks plainly. He attracted her; it would be exciting to let him carry her away and embark with him on a romantic adventure. She knew he had recently used a stern control, but he was hot-blooded and his reserve might be undermined. Yet there was a risk; she must give up much. She was drawn in different ways by romance and worldly caution and it looked as if caution would win.

Soon after she reached Langrigg Mordaunt arrived with Dick. The latter declared that Jim was a very good sort, and Evelyn knew his feeling was sincere, but she imagined Dick liked Carrie and was sometimes disturbed. For all that, she had been relieved to note that Carrie liked Dick.

Dinner was a cheerful function, but when they went back to the hall Evelyn was quiet. Joseph Dearham and others had made some renovations in the hall, but they harmonized with the crooked roof-beams and dark oak. There were one or two tall lamps and another that hung by iron chains, but Jim generally used candles in old silver stands. Evelyn wondered how Jim knew that candles were right. It was strange that he often, unconsciously, she thought, struck the proper note.

She studied him and Jake while she talked to Mrs. Winter. Jim seldom wore conventional evening clothes, but he had put on an American dinner-jacket. He and his comrade were strangely agile; their movements were quick, their step was light, like a cat's, and she noted how they lifted their feet. She did not know the prospector gets the habit by walking through tangled bush and across rough stones. They had a suppleness that came from using the long ax, and toil in the wilds had given them a fine-drawn look. In some ways both were modern, but in some they belonged to the past, when the fortress peels were built and the marsh-men fought the Scots.

Jim crossed the floor, and when he began to talk to Carrie, Evelyn felt a jealous pang. The girl had been in the woods with Jim; she had beauty and a curious primitive strength. Jim leaned forward, smiling as he talked to her; they talked confidentially, like tried comrades. Evelyn was moved to something near anger and went to the old grand piano Jim had brought from the drawing-room when he found that Carrie could play ragtime airs. Evelyn had a talent for music and meant to make an experiment. If Jim was what she thought, he would respond.

"If somebody will light the candles, I will sing," she said.

The candles had pale-yellow shades and when Jim struck a match the colored light touched her face and dress. Except for this, the corner was somewhat dark. Amber was Evelyn's color. She struck a few chords that seemed to echo in the distance and then, glancing at Jim, began a prelude with a measured beat. His face was intent; he seemed to search for something in the music that sounded as if it were getting nearer. She wondered whether he heard the call of trumpets and horses' feet drumming in the dark. Somehow she thought he did.

Perhaps she was debasing her talent; this kind of thing was rather a theatrical trick than music. For all that, it needed feeling, and she knew the old Border ballads and their almost forgotten airs. Jim was very still when she began to sing, for her voice and the music moved him strongly. The air was wild, the rude words rang with something one felt when one battled with floods and snowslides. They told how the moss-troopers rode down Ettrick water long ago; but human nature did not change and hard-bitten men now went out on the snowy trail, carrying shovels and axes instead of spears. But how did Evelyn, surrounded by luxurious refinements, understand?

"It's fine!" he exclaimed when she stopped. "You have got it just right; horses' feet, and harness jingling. But you go back of that to the feeling one has when one braces up and sets one's mouth tight."

Evelyn laughed and looked at Mordaunt, who frowned. "Perhaps you are easily satisfied, Jim, but music, critical folks contemptuously call descriptive, needs some talent." She paused and beat out a few bars imitating a horse's gallop. "It really does go back of this."

"Never mind critical folks," said Jim. "Sing another – the song of Flodden."

"I'm not sure the song you mean has really much to do with Flodden, but I know one that has. It's old and rude, like the Borderers. You know a band would not fight, but were too proud to run away. They stood fast, by themselves, and were shot down by the archers while the loyal Scots fell round their wounded king. This, however, is shocking art; it's like writing what you are meant to see at the top of a picture. I know it annoys Lance."

"I can endure much from you," Mordaunt rejoined.

Evelyn struck the keys and began to sing. Words and air had a strange barbaric force, and Jim pictured the stern Scots spearmen closing round their fallen monarch and their hate for the stubborn mutineers. The blood came to his skin when the music stopped and the girl's voice flung out a dying soldier's curse. The curse was strangely modern; one heard it often in the West.

"Thank you! You have not sung like this before," he said, and turned to Jake. "How does it strike you, partner?"

"It hits me where I feel it, and hits me hard. I reckon the men who fought that old battle meant to make good. I don't know how Miss Halliday knows what a man with red blood feels when he's got to put over a big hard job, but she does know."

"I'm afraid you would make me vain," said Evelyn.

She turned as she left the piano and gave Carrie a quick glance. A sharp jealousy seized her, for while she could imagine what a strong man felt, Carrie really knew. She had fronted danger with Jim; she had watched and helped his struggle in the lonely North. Evelyn was suddenly afraid of Carrie. She was a powerful rival.

The party went to the billiard-room, but Evelyn would not play and sat in a corner, thinking hard. She was highly-strung, and her hesitation had vanished. Jim loved her and nobody else should claim him. Perhaps she was rash, but she had begun to feel passion, and saw she must embark upon her great adventure now, when Jim had had reverses and was smarting from the blow. He must see that she had pluck and was willing to bear his troubles. After all, to have done with caution was exhilarating. Yet she knew her lover. He would not ask her to make a sacrifice for him; unless his luck changed he would keep up his reserve. Well, she must break it down, and she knew her power. Then she turned as Mordaunt stopped by the bench she occupied.