The Cattle-Baron's Daughter

by Harold Bindloss

  XXI

  CLAVERING APPEARS RIDICULOUS

  There was silence in the log-house when the men drove away, and Clavering,who sat in a corner, found the time pass heavily. A clock ticked noisilyupon the wall, and the stove crackled when the draughts flowed in; butthis, he felt, only made the stillness more exasperating. The big,hard-faced bushman sat as motionless as a statue and almost asexpressionless, with a brown hand resting on the rifle across his knees,in front of a row of shelves which held Miss Muller's crockery. Claveringfelt his fingers quiver in a fit of anger as he watched the man, but heshook it from him, knowing that he would gain nothing by yielding tofutile passion.

  "I guess I can smoke," he said flinging his cigar-case on the table. "Takeone if you feel like it."

  The swiftness with which the man's eyes followed the first move of hisprisoner's hand was significant, but he shook his head deliberately.

  "I don't know any reason why you shouldn't, but you can keep your cigarsfor your friends," he said.

  He drawled the words out, but the vindictive dislike in his eyes made themvery expressive, and Clavering, who saw it, felt that any attempt to gainhis jailer's goodwill would be a failure. As though to give point to thespeech, the man took out a pipe and slowly filled it with tobacco from alittle deerskin bag.

  "What are you going to do with me?" asked Clavering, partly to hide hisanger, and partly because he was more than a little curious on thesubject.

  "Well," said the man reflectively. "I don't quite know. Keep you hereuntil Larry comes, any way. It wouldn't take long to fix it so you'd besorry you had worried poor folks if the boys would listen to me."

  This was even less encouraging; but there were still points on whichClavering desired enlightenment.

  "Will Muller bring Miss Torrance and her companion here?" he asked.

  The bushman nodded. "I guess he will. It's quite a long way to Allonby's,and they'll be 'most frozen after waiting in the bluff. Now, I'm notanxious for any more talk with you."

  A little flush crept into Clavering's forehead; but it was not the man'scontemptuous brusqueness which brought it there, though that was notwithout its effect. It was evident that the most he could hope for wasLarry's clemency, and that would be difficult to tolerate. But there wasanother ordeal before him. Hetty was also coming back, and would see him aprisoner in the hands of the men he had looked down upon with ironicalcontempt. Had the contempt been assumed, his position would have been lessintolerable; but it was not, and the little delicately venomous jibes heseldom lost an opportunity of flinging at the homesteaders expressed nomore than he felt, and were now and then warranted.

  Clavering, of course, knew that to pose as a prisoner as the result of hisefforts on her behalf would stir Hetty's sympathy, and his endurance ofpersecution at the hands of the rabble for his adherence to the principleshe fancied she held would further raise him in her estimation; but he hadno desire to acquire her regard in that fashion. He would have preferredto take the chances of a rifle-shot, for while he had few scruples he hadbeen born with a pride which, occasionally at least, prevented hisindulgence in petty knavery; and, crushing down his anger, he set himselfto consider by what means he could extricate himself.

  None, however, were very apparent. The homesteader showed no sign ofdrowsiness or relaxed vigilance, but sat tranquilly alert, watching himthrough the curling smoke. It was also some distance to the door, which,from where Clavering sat, appeared to be fastened and he knew the quickprecision with which the bushman can swing up a rifle, or if it suits himfire from the hip. A dash for liberty could, he fancied, have only oneresult; it was evident that he must wait.

  Now waiting is difficult to most men, and especially to those in whoseveins there flows the hot Southern blood, and Clavering felt the taste ofthe second excellent cigar grow bitter in his mouth. He sat very still,with half-closed eyes, and a little ironical smile upon his lips when hisgrim companion glanced at him. In the meantime the stove crackled lessnoisily and the room grew steadily colder. But Clavering scarcely felt thechill, even when the icy draughts whirled the cigar-smoke about him, forhe began to see that an opportunity would be made for him, and waited,strung up and intent. When he thought he could do so unobserved, heglanced at the clock whose fingers now moved with a distressful rapidity,knowing that his chance would be gone if the bob-sled arrived before thecold grew too great for his jailer.

  Ten minutes dragged by, then another five, and still the man sat smokingtranquilly, while Clavering realized that, allowing for all probabledelays, Muller and Miss Torrance should arrive before the half-hour wasup. Ten more minutes fled by, and Clavering, quivering in an agony ofimpatience, found it almost impossible to sit still; but at last thebushman stood up and laid his rifle on the table.

  "You will stop right where you are," he said. "I'm going to put a fewbillets in the stove."

  Clavering nodded, for he dared not trust himself to speak, and the man,who took up an armful of the billets, dropped a few of them through theopen top of the stove. One, as it happened, jammed inside it, so that hecould get no more in, and he laid hold of an iron scraper to free it with.He now stood with his back to Clavering, but the rifle still lay withinhis reach upon the table.

  Clavering rose up, and, though his injured foot was painful, moved forwarda pace or two noiselessly in his soft moccasins. A billet had rolled inhis direction, and swaying lithely from the waist, with his eyes fixedupon the man, he seized it. The homesteader was stooping still, and hemade another pace, crouching a trifle, with every muscle hardening.

  Then, the man turned sharply, and hurled the scraper straight atClavering. It struck him on the face, but he launched himself forward,and, while the homesteader grabbed at his rifle, fell upon him. He feltthe thud of the billet upon something soft, but the next moment it wastorn from him, the rifle fell with a clatter, and he and the bushmanreeled against the stove together. Then, they fell against the shelves andwith a crash they and the crockery went down upon the floor.

  Clavering was supple and wiry and just then consumed with an almostinsensate fury. He came down uppermost but his adversary's leg was hookedround his knee, and the grip of several very hard fingers unpleasantlyimpeded his respiration. Twice he struck savagely at a half-seen brownface, but the grip did not relax, and the knee he strove to extricatebegan to pain him horribly. The rancher possessed no mean courage and atraditional belief in the prowess of his caste, was famed for proficiencyin most manly sports; but that did not alter the fact that the other man'smuscle, hardened by long use of the axe, was greater than his own, and thestubborn courage which had upheld the homesteader in his struggle withadverse seasons and the encroaching forest was at least the equal of thatborn in Clavering.

  So the positions were slowly reversed, until at last Clavering lay withhis head amidst a litter of broken cups and plates, and the homesteaderbent over him with a knee upon his chest.

  "I guess you've had 'bout enough," he said. "Will you let up, or do youwant me to pound the life out of you?"

  Clavering could not speak, but he managed to make a movement with hishead, and the next moment the man had dragged him to his feet and flunghim against the table. He caught at it, gasping, while his adversarypicked up the rifle.

  "You will be sorry for this night's work yet," he said.

  The homesteader laughed derisively. "Well," he said, "I guess you're sorrynow. Anyone who saw you would think you were. Get right back to the chairyonder and stay there."

  It was at least five minutes before Clavering recovered sufficiently tosurvey himself, and then he groaned. His deerskin jacket was badly rent,there was a great burn on one side of it, and several red scratchesdefaced his hands. From the splotches on them after he brushed back hisruffled hair he also had a suspicion that his head was cut, and thetingling where the scraper had struck him suggested a very visible weal.He felt dizzy and shaken, but his physical was less than his mentaldistress. Clavering was distinguished for his artistic taste in dress andindolent
grace; but no man appears dignified or courtly with discolouredface, tattered garments, and dishevelled hair. He thought he heard thebob-sled coming and in desperation glanced at his jailer.

  "If you would like ten dollars you have only got to let me slip into thatother room," he said.

  The bushman grinned sardonically, and Clavering's fears were confirmed."You're that pretty I wouldn't lose sight of you for a hundred," he said."No, sir; you're going to stop where you are."

  Clavering anathematized him inwardly, knowing that the beat of hoofs wasunmistakable--he must face what he dreaded most. A sword-cut, or even arifle-shot, would, he fancied, have entitled him to sympathy, not untingedwith admiration, but he was unpleasantly aware that a man damaged in anencounter with nature's weapons is apt to appear either brutal orludicrous, and he had noticed Miss Torrance's sensibility. He set hislips, and braced himself for the meeting.

  A few minutes later the door opened, and, followed by the fraeulein Muller,Hetty and Miss Schuyler came in. They did not seem to have sufferedgreatly in the interval, which Clavering knew was not the case with him,and he glanced at the homesteader with a little venomous glow in his eyeswhen Hetty turned to him.

  "Oh!" she said with a gasp, and her face grew pale and stern as closingone hand she, too, looked at the bushman.

  Clavering took heart at this; but his enemy's vindictiveness was evidentlynot exhausted, for he nodded comprehendingly.

  "Yes," he said, "he's damaged. He got kind of savage a little while ago,and before I could quiet him he broke up quite a lot of crockery."

  The imperious anger faded out of Hetty's face, and Flora Schuylerunderstood why it did so as she glanced at Clavering. There was nothingthat could appeal to a fastidious young woman's fancy about him just then;he reminded Miss Schuyler of a man she had once seen escorted homewards byhis drunken friends after a fracas in the Bowery. At the same time it wasevident that Hetty recognized her duty, and was sensible, if not ofadmiration, at least of somewhat tempered sympathy.

  "I am dreadfully sorry, Mr. Clavering--and it was all my fault," she said."I hope they didn't hurt you very much."

  Clavering, who had risen, made her a little inclination; but he also sethis lips, for Hetty had not expressed herself very tactfully, and justthen Muller and another man came in and stood staring at them. The rancherendeavoured to smile, with very small success for he was consumed with anunsatisfied longing to destroy the bushman.

  "I don't think you need be, Miss Torrance," he said. "I am only sorry Icould not come back for you; but unfortunately--circumstances--preventedme."

  "You have done enough," said Hetty impulsively, apparently forgetting thepresence of the rest. "It was splendid of you."

  Then the bushman looked up again with an almost silent chuckle. "I guessif it had been your plates he sat on, you wouldn't be quite so sure ofit--and the circumstance was me," he said.

  Hetty turned from the speaker, and glanced at the rest. Muller wasstanding near the door, with his spectacles down on his nose and mildinquiry in his pale blue eyes, and a big bronzed Dakota man beside him wasgrinning visibly. The fraeulein was kneeling despairingly amidst hershattered china, while Flora Schuyler leaned against the table with herlips quivering and a most suspicious twinkle in her eyes.

  "Flo," said Hetty half-aloud. "How can you?"

  "I don't know," said Miss Schuyler, with a little gasp. "Don't look at me,Hetty. I really can't help it."

  Hetty said no more, but she glanced at the red-cheeked fraeulein, who wasgazing at a broken piece of crockery with tearful eyes, and turned herhead away. Clavering saw the effort it cost her to keep from laughing, andwrithed.

  "Well," said the man who had come with Muller, pointing to the wreck,"what started you smashing up the house?"

  "It's quite simple," said the bushman. "Mr. Clavering and I didn't quiteagree. He had a billet in his hand when he crept up behind me, and somehowwe fell into the crockery. I didn't mean to damage him, but he wanted toget away, you see."

  Hetty swung round towards Muller. "You haven't dared to make Mr. Claveringa prisoner?"

  Muller was never very quick at speech, and the American by his sideanswered for him. "Well, we have got to keep him until Larry comes. He'llbe here 'most directly."

  "Flo," said Hetty, with relief in her face, "Larry is coming. We need notworry about anything now."

  The fraeulein had risen in the meanwhile, and was busy with the kettle anda frying-pan. By and by, she set a steaming jug of coffee and a hotcornmeal cake before her guests for whom Muller had drawn out chairs. Theywere glad of the refreshment, and still more pleased when Grant andBreckenridge came in. When Larry shook hands with them, Hetty contrived towhisper in his ear:

  "If you want to please me, get Clavering away."

  Grant glanced at her somewhat curiously, but both were sensible that othereyes were upon them, and with a just perceptible nod he passed on withMuller into the adjoining room. Clavering and the two Americans followedhim with Breckenridge, and Grant who had heard something of what hadhappened from the fraeulein, asked a few questions.

  "You can go when it pleases you, Clavering," he said. "I am sorry you havereceived some trifling injury, but I have an idea that you brought it uponyourself. In the face of your conduct to them it seems to me that myfriends were warranted in detaining you until they made sure of thecorrectness of your story."

  Clavering flushed, for there was a contemptuous incisiveness in Grant'svoice which stung his pride.

  "I don't know that I am very grateful," he said angrily, "and you areprobably doing this because it suits you. In any case, your friends darenot have offered violence to me."

  Grant smiled grimly. "I wouldn't try them too far. But I don't quite catchyour meaning. I can gain nothing by letting you go."

  "It should be tolerably plain. I fancied you desired to please somefriends at Cedar who send money to you."

  There was a murmur of astonishment from the rest and Clavering saw thatthe shot had told.

  "I guess he's lying, Larry," said one of them.

  Grant stood still a moment with his eyes fixed on Clavering. "I wonder,"he said, "if you are hazarding a guess."

  "No," said Clavering, "I don't think I am. I know you got a wallet ofdollars--though I don't know who sent them. Are you prepared to deny it?"

  "I'm not prepared to exchange any words with you," said Grant. "Go whilethe door is open, and it would not be advisable for you to fall into ourhands again. We hanged a friend of yours who, I fancy, lived up to, atleast, as high a standard as you seem to do."

  When Clavering had left the room, the others turned to Grant. "You havesomething to tell us?"

  "No," said Grant quietly. "I don't think I have."

  The men looked at each other, and one of them said, "That fellow's storysounded kind of ugly. What were you taking dollars from the cattle-menfor, Larry?"

  Grant saw the growing distrust in their eyes, but his own were resolute.

  "I can't help that," he said. "I am with you, as I have always been, butthere are affairs of mine I can't have anybody inquiring into. That is allI can tell you. You will have to take me on trust."

  "You're making it hard," said the man who had spoken first.

  Before Grant could answer, Clavering returned ready for his ride, butGrant gave him no opportunity to address Hetty and Miss Schuyler. "It istoo far to drive to Allonby's in the sled," he said to them. "My sleigh isat your service. Shall I drive you?"

  Hetty, for a moment, looked irresolute, but she saw Clavering's face, andremembered what was due to him and what he had apparently suffered for hersake.

  "It wouldn't be quite fair to dismiss Mr. Clavering in that fashion," shesaid.

  Grant glanced at her, and the girl longed for an opportunity of making himunderstand what influenced her. But this was out of the question.

  "Then, if he will be surety for their safety, the team is at Mr.Clavering's disposal," he said.

  Clavering said nothing to Grant, b
ut he thrust his hand into his pocketand laid a five-dollar bill on the table.

  "I am very sorry I helped to destroy some of your crockery, fraeulein, andthis is the only amend I can make," he said. "If I knew how to replace thebroken things I wouldn't have ventured to offer it to you."

  The little deprecatory gesture was graceful, and Hetty flashed anapproving glance at him; but she also looked at Grant, as if to beseechhis comprehension, when she went out. Larry, however, did not understandher, and stood gravely aside as she passed him. He said nothing, but whenhe was fastening the fur robe round her in the sleigh Hetty spoke.

  "Larry," she said softly, "can't you understand that one has to do thesquare thing to everybody?"

  Then, Clavering, who could not hear what she was saying, flicked thehorses and the sleigh slid away into the darkness.

  A moment or two later, while the men still lingered talking without andLarry stood putting on his furs in the room, Breckenridge saw Miss Muller,who had been gazing at the money rise, and as though afraid her resolutionmight fail her, hastily thrust it into the stove.

  "You are right," he said. "That was an abominably unfair shot ofClavering's, Larry. Of course, you couldn't answer him or tell anybody,but it's horribly unfortunate. The thing made the impression he meant itto."

  "Well," said Larry bitterly, "I have got to bear it with the rest. I can'tsee any reason for being pleased with anything to-night."

  Breckenridge nodded, but once more a little twinkle crept into his eyes."I scarcely think you need worry about one trifle, any way," he said. "Ifyou think Miss Torrance or Miss Schuyler wanted Clavering to drive them,you must be unusually dense. They only asked him to because they have asense of fairness, and I'd stake a good many dollars on the fact that whenMiss Schuyler first saw him she was convulsed with laughter."

  "Did Miss Torrance seem amused?" Grant asked eagerly.

  "Yes," said Breckenridge decisively. "She did though she tried to hide it.Miss Torrance has, of course, a nice appreciation of what is becoming. Infact, her taste is only slightly excelled by Miss Schuyler's."

  Grant stared at him for a moment, and then for the first time, duringseveral anxious months, broke into a great peal of laughter.