CHAPTER XI
GORDON INVITES HIMSELF TO DINNER--AND DOES NOT ENJOY IT
Big Bill and his companions reached Kamatlah early next day. Theyreported at once to Selfridge. It had been the intention of Wally tovent upon them the bad temper that had been gathering ever since histalk with Elliot. But his first sarcastic question drew such a snarl ofanger that he reconsidered. The men were both sullen and furious. Theylet him know roundly that if Holt made them any trouble through thecourts, they would tell all they knew.
The little man became alarmed. Instead of reproaches he gave them softwords and promises. The company would see them through. It would protectthem against criminal procedure. But above all they must stand pat indenial. A conviction would be impossible even if the State's attorneyfiled an indictment against them. Meanwhile they would remain on thecompany pay-roll.
Gordon Elliot was a trained investigator. Even without Holt at his sidehe would probably have unearthed the truth about the Kamatlah situation.But with the little miner by his side to tell him the facts, he foundhis task an easy one.
Selfridge followed orders and let him talk with the men freely. All ofthem had been drilled till they knew their story like parrots. They weresuspicious of the approaches of Elliot, but they had been warned thatthey must appear to talk candidly. The result was that some talked toomuch and some not enough. They contradicted themselves and one another.They let slip admissions under skillful examination that could beexplained on no other basis than that of company ownership.
Both Selfridge and Howland outdid themselves in efforts to establishclose social relations. But Gordon was careful to put himself under noobligations. He called on the Howlands, but he laughingly explained whyhe could not accept the invitations of Mrs. Howland to dinner.
"I have to tell things here as I see them, and may not have your pointof view. How can I accept your hospitality and then report that I thinkyour husband ought to be sent up for life?"
She was a good, motherly woman and she laughed with him. But she didwish this pleasant young fellow could be made to take the proper view ofthings.
Within two weeks Elliot had finished his work at Kamatlah.
"Off for Kusiak to-morrow," he told Holt that night.
The old miner went with him as a guide to the big bend. Gordon had nodesire to attempt again Fifty-Mile Swamp without the help of some onewho knew every foot of the trail. Holt had taken the trip a dozen times.With him to show the way the swamp became merely a hard, grueling mushthrough boggy lowlands.
Weary with the trail, they reached the river at the end of a long day.An Indian village lay sprawled along the bank, and through this the twomen tramped to the roadhouse where they were to put up for the night.
Holt called to the younger man, who was at the time in the lead.
"Wait a minute, Elliot."
Gordon turned. The old Alaskan was offering a quarter to a littlehalf-naked Indian boy. Shyly the four-year-old came forward, a step ata time, his finger in his mouth. He held out a brown hand for the coin.
"What's your name, kid?" Holt flashed a look at Elliot that warned himto pay attention.
"Colmac," the boy answered bashfully.
His fist closed on the quarter, he turned, and like a startled caribouhe fled to a comely young Indian woman standing near the trail.
With gleaming eyes Holt turned to Elliot. "Take a good look at thesquaw," he said in a low voice.
Elliot glanced at the woman behind whose skirts the youngster washiding. He smiled and nodded pleasantly to her.
"She's not bad looking if that's what you mean," he said after they hadtaken up the trail again.
"You ain't the only white man that has thought that," retorted the oldminer significantly.
"No?" Gordon had learned to let Holt tell things at his leisure. Itusually took less time than to try to hurry him.
"Name of the kid mean anything to you?"
"Can't say it did."
"Hm! Named for his dad. First syllable of each of his names."
The land inspector stopped in his stride and wheeled upon Holt. His eyesasked eagerly a question. "You don't mean Colby Macdonald?"
"Why don't I?"
"But--Good Lord, he isn't a squawman, is he?"
"Not in the usual meaning of the word. She never cooked and kept housefor him. Just the same, little Colmac is his kid. Couldn't you see itsticking out all over him? He's the spit'n' image of his dad."
"I see it now you've pointed it out. I was trying to think who hereminded me of. Of course it was Macdonald."
"Mac met up with Meteetse when he first scouted this country for coalfive years ago. So far's I know he was square enough with the girl. Shenever claimed he made any promises or anything like that. He sends acheck down once a quarter to the trader here for her and the kid."
But young Elliot was not thinking about Meteetse. His mind's eye sawanother picture--the girl at Kusiak, listening spellbound to the talesof a man whose actions translated romance into life for her, a girlswept from the quiet backwaters of an Irish village to this land ofthe midnight sun with its amazing contrasts.
And all the way up on the boat she continued to fill his mind. Theslowness of the steamer fretted him. He paced up and down the deck forhours at a time worried and anxious. Sometimes the jealousy in his heartflamed up like a prairie fire when it comes to a brush heap. The outrageof it set him blazing with indignation. Diane ought to be whipped, hetold himself, for her part in the deception. It was no less than aconspiracy. What could an innocent young girl like Sheba know of sucha man as Colby Macdonald? Her imagination conceived, no doubt, anidealized vision of him. But the real man was clear outside her ken.
Gordon set his jaw grimly. He would have it out with Diane. He would lether see she was not going to have it all her own way. By God, he wouldput a spoke in her wheel.
Sometimes, when the cool, evening breezes blew on his bare, feveredhead, he laughed at himself for an idiot. How did he know that Macdonaldwanted Sheba O'Neill. All the evidence he had was that he had once seenthe man watch her while she sang a sentimental song. Whereas it wascommon talk that he would probably marry Mrs. Mallory, that for monthshe had been her almost daily companion. If the older woman had lostthe sweet, supple slimness of her first youth, she had won in exchangea sophisticated grace, a seductive allure that made her the envy ofall the women with whom she associated. She held at command a warm,languorous charm which had stirred banked fires in the hearts of manymen. Why should not Macdonald woo her? Gordon himself admitted herattractiveness.
And why should he take it for granted that Sheba was ready to drop intothe arms of the big Alaskan whenever he said the word? At the least hewas twenty years older than she. Surely she might admire him withoutfalling in love with the man. Was there not something almost insultingin the supposition that Macdonald had only to speak to her in order towin?
But in spite of reason he was on fire to come to his journey's end.No sooner had he reached his hotel than he called up Mrs. Paget. Quiteclearly she understood that he wanted an invitation to dinner. Yet shehesitated.
"My 'phone can't be working well," Gordon told her gayly. "You must haveasked me to dinner, but I didn't just hear it. Never mind. I'll bethere. Seven o'clock, did you say?"
Diane laughed. "You're just as much a boy as you were ten years ago,Gord. All right. Come along. But you're to leave at ten. Do youunderstand?"
"No, I can't hear that. My 'phone has gone bad again. And if I hadheard, I shouldn't think of doing anything so ridiculous as leaving atthat hour. It would be an insult to your hospitality. I know when I'mwell off."
"Then I'll have to withdraw my invitation. Perhaps some other day--"
"I'll leave at ten," promised Elliot meekly.
He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she answered. "Very well.Seven sharp. I'll explain about the curfew limit sometime."
Macdonald was with Miss O'Neill in the living-room when Gordon arrivedat the Paget home.
&n
bsp; Sheba came forward to greet the new guest. The welcome in her eyes wasvery genuine.
"You and Mr. Macdonald know each other, of course," she said after herhandshake.
The Scotchman nodded his lean, grizzled head, looking straight into theeyes of the field agent. There was always a certain deliberation abouthis manner, but it was the slowness of strength and not of weakness.
"Yes, I know Mr. Elliot--now. I'm not so sure that he knows me--yet."
"I'm beginning to know you rather well, Mr. Macdonald," answered Gordonquietly, but with a very steady look.
If the Alaskan wanted to declare war he was ready for it. The fieldagent knew that Selfridge had sent reports detailing what had happenedat Kamatlah. Up to date Macdonald had offered him the velvet glove. Hewondered if the time had come when the fist of steel was to be doubled.
Paget was frankly pleased to see Gordon again. He was a simple, honestman who moved always in a straight line. He had liked Elliot as a boyand he still liked him. So did Diane, for that matter, but she was alittle on her guard against him. She had certain plans under way thatshe intended to put through. She was not going to let even Gordon Elliotfrustrate them.
"Did you have a successful trip, Mr. Elliot?" asked Sheba innocently.
Paget grinned behind his hand. The girl's question was like a matchto powder, and every one in the room knew it but she. The engineer'sinterests and his convictions were on the side of Macdonald, buthe recognized that Elliot had been sent in to gather facts for theGovernment and not to give advice to it. If he played fair, he couldonly tell the truth as he saw it.
The eyes of Diane held a spark of hostility as she leaned forward. Theword had already been passed among the faithful that this young man wasnot taking the right point of view.
"Did you, Gordon?" echoed his hostess.
"I think so," he answered quietly.
"I hear you put up with old Gideon Holt. Is he as cracked as he used tobe?" asked Macdonald.
"Was he cracked when you used to know him on Frenchman Creek?" counteredthe young man.
Macdonald shot a quick, slant look at him. The old man had been talking,had he?
"He was cracked and broke too," laughed the mine-owner hardily. "Crackedwhen he came, broke when he left."
"Yes, that was one of the stories he told me." Gordon turned to Sheba."You should meet the old man, Miss O'Neill. He knew your father atDawson and on Bonanza."
The girl was all eagerness. "I'd like to. Does he ever come to Kusiak?"
"Nonsense!" cut in Diane sharply. She flashed at Gordon a look ofannoyance. "He's nothing but a daft old idiot, my dear."
The dinner had started wrong, and though Paget steered the conversationto safer ground, it did not go very well. At least three of thosepresent were a little on edge. Even Sheba, who had missed entirely thepoint of the veiled thrusts, knew that Elliot was not in harmony witheither Diane or Macdonald.
Gordon was ashamed of himself. He could not quite have told what werethe impulses that had moved him to carry the war into the camp of theenemy. Perhaps, more than anything else, it had been a certain look ofquiet assurance in the eyes of his rival when he looked at Sheba.
He rose promptly at ten.
"Must you go so soon?" Diane asked. She was smiling at him with blandmockery.
"I really must," answered Elliot.
His hostess followed him into the hall. She watched him get into hiscoat before saying what was on her mind.
"What did you mean by telling Sheba that old Holt knew her father?What is he to tell her if they meet--that her father died of pneumoniabrought on by drink? Is that what you want?"
Gordon was honestly contrite. "I didn't think of that."
"No, you were too busy thinking of something mean to say to Mr.Macdonald."
He agreed, yet could not forbear one dig more. "I suppose I wanted Holtto tell her that Macdonald robbed her father and indirectly was thecause of his death."
"Absurd!" exploded Diane. "You're so simple that you accept as true thegossip of every crack-brained idiot--when it suits your purpose."
He smiled, boyishly, engagingly, as he held out his hand. "Don't let'squarrel, Di. I admit I forgot myself."
"All right. We won't. But don't believe all the catty talk you hear,Gordon."
"I'll try to believe only the truth." He smiled, a little ruefully. "Andit isn't necessary for you to explain why the curfew law applies to meand not to Macdonald."
She was on her dignity at once. "You're quite right. It isn't necessary.But I'm going to tell you anyhow. Mr. Macdonald is going away to-morrowfor two or three days and he has some business he wants to talk overwith Sheba. He had made an appointment with her, and I didn't think itfair to let your coming interfere with it."
Gordon took this facer with his smile still working.
"I've got a little business I want to talk over with _you_, Di."
She had always been a young woman of rather a hard finish. Now she methim fairly, eye to eye. "Any time you like, Gordon."
Elliot carried away with him one very definite impression. Dianeintended Sheba to marry Macdonald if she could bring it about. She hadas good as served notice on him that the girl was spoken for.
The young man set his square jaw. Diane was used to having her own way.So was Macdonald. Well, the Elliots had a will of their own too.
The Yukon Trail: A Tale of the North Page 12