Campbell's Kingdom

by Hammond Innes

  The following morning, Tuesday, June 3rd, broke in a grey mist. The sun came through, however, before we had finished breakfast and for three hours it shone from a clear blue sky and insects hovered round us in the heat. But shortly after midday, thunder heads began to build up to the west. Boy got in about two. He’d hitched a ride up from Quesnel in one of the cement trucks and had picked up his horse in Come Lucky on the way down to our rendezvous at the entrance to Thunder Creek. He had a copy of the Calgary Tribune with him. They had run the story of Campbell’s Kingdom as a news item on the front page and there was a long feature article inside. Boy had seen the editor, so had Winnick. They had talked to some of the scouts from the big companies. The legend of oil in the Rocky Mountains had got off to a good start. But his big news was that Garry was already at 150-Mile House. It only needed a phone call from us to get his convoy rolling.

  I looked up at the gathering clouds. ‘What’s the weather going to do tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘I’d say rain,’ Bill answered.

  Boy didn’t say anything, but walked across the clearing to where there was a view up the valley. He stood for some time, staring up towards Solomon’s Judgment where small puffs of snow were being driven down the forward slopes. ‘The weather’s breaking.’

  ‘Rain?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Snow more likely. The wind’s from the east.’

  ‘Snow?’ It might be even better than rain. ‘Have you brought that phone testing equipment?’

  ‘It’s in my pack.’ He went over to the two saddle bags he had dropped on to the ground and got out the instruments. ‘What are you planning to do, Bruce?’

  ‘Get Garry and his trucks up tonight,’ I said. ‘How long do you reckon it will take him from 150-Mile House?’

  ‘Six, seven hours.’ He hesitated, glancing up at the mountains. ‘If the snow is heavy he may bog down, you know. There’s a lot of weight in some of his trucks.’

  ‘We’ll have to risk that.’

  We rode down the highway, past the turning up to Come Lucky, until we reached a stretch where it ran through trees. The telephone wires were close against the branches here. I posted the two of them as guards and climbed a fir tree. There was no difficulty in tapping the wires. I had to wait for a while, listening to Trevedian talking to Keithley Creek. As soon as he got off the line I rang the exchange and got put through to 150-Mile House. I was afraid Garry might not be ready to move, but I needn’t have worried. When I asked him how soon he could get started, he said, ‘Whenever you say. The gear’s all stowed, everything’s ready. We only got to start the engines.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Can you make the entrance to the creek by eleven-thirty tonight?’

  ‘Sure. Providing everything’s okay we could probably make it by ten, mebbe even earlier.’

  ‘I don’t want you earlier,’ I replied. ‘I want you there dead on eleven-thirty. The timing is important. What’s your watch say?’

  ‘Two twenty-eight.’

  ‘Okay.’ I adjusted my watch by a couple of minutes. ‘Now listen carefully, Garry. Keep moving all the time and try not to get involved with any truck coming in with materials for the dam. As you approach the rendezvous only the leading truck is to have any lights. Keep your convoy bunched. We’ll meet you where the timber starts. If we’re not there, turn around and go back as far as Hydraulic and I’ll contact you there tomorrow. It will mean something has gone wrong with our plans. Okay?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘See you tonight, then.’

  ‘Just a minute, Bruce. What are our plans? How do you propose—’

  ‘I haven’t time to go into that now,’ I cut in quickly. ‘See you at eleven-thirty. Good-bye.’

  I unclipped my wires and climbed down to the ground. Boy heeled his horse up to me as I packed the instrument away. ‘Where did you learn to tap telephone wires?’ he asked.

  ‘The war,’ I said. ‘Taught me quite a lot of things that I didn’t imagine would be of any use to me after it was over.’

  He was very silent as we rode back to our camp and several times I caught him looking at me with a worried frown. As we sat over our food that evening he tried to question me about my plans, but I kept on putting him off and in the end I walked down to the edge of the creek and sat there smoking. Every now and then I glanced at the luminous dial of my watch. And as the hands crept slowly round to zero hour the sense of nervousness increased.

  At twenty to eleven I walked back to where the two of them sat smoking round the blackened embers of the fire. The night was very dark. There were no stars. A cold wind drifted down the valley. ‘What about your snow?’ I asked Boy.

  ‘It’ll come,’ he said.

  ‘When?’

  Something touched my face—a cold kiss, light as a feather. More followed. ‘It’s here now,’ Boy said. I shone my torch into the darkness. A flurry of white flakes was drifting across the clearing. ‘Going to be cold up by the dam, if we get there.’

  I glanced at my watch again. Ten forty-five. ‘Bill.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Get on your horse and ride up the road to the bend just before the gate. Tether your horse in the timber and work your way unobserved to a point where you can watch the guard hut. Now listen carefully. At eleven-fifteen exactly the guard will get a phone call. As a result of that call he should leave immediately, going up the road towards the hoist on foot. If he hasn’t left by eleven twenty-five get your horse and come back down the road as fast as you can to let us know.’

  ‘And if he does?’

  ‘Wait till he’s out of earshot, then open the gate and block it open. Get your horse and follow him up without him knowing. Okay? About a mile up the road there’s a trail cutting straight over a rocky bluff. He should take that trail. Wait for us there to let us know whether he took it or kept to the road. I’ll also want to know the exact time he started up the trail. When we’ve passed, ride back down here, collect the two remaining horses and get part of the way up the pony trail to the Kingdom before camping. We’ll see you up at the Kingdom tomorrow, if all goes well. If by any chance we’re not in the Kingdom by the time you get there, then I’m afraid you’ll have to come down again with the horses. All right?’

  He went through his instructions and then I checked his watch with mine. ‘Good luck,’ he said as he mounted his horse. ‘And see you don’t make me come down off the Kingdom again. I kinda want to see a rig operating up there now.’ He grinned and waved his hand as he walked his horse out of the clearing.

  ‘What now?’ Boy asked.

  ‘We wait,’ I said. I glanced at my watch. Five to eleven. Thirty-five minutes to wait. ‘Hell!’ I muttered.

  He caught hold of my arm as I turned away. ‘Don’t I get any instructions?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I said.

  I could just see his eyes staring at me in the darkness. I wondered whether he could see in the dark. His eyes were large and luminous. ‘I don’t like going into something without a briefing.’

  ‘There’s nothing to brief you on.’

  For a moment I thought he was going to insist. But then he dropped his hand. ‘All right. I understand. But just tell me one thing. Is anybody going to get hurt?’

  ‘Nobody’s going to get hurt,’ I said.

  ‘Then why are you carrying a gun?’

  ‘How the—’ I stopped. What did it matter? Probably he’d just opened my rucksack by mistake in the dark. I hesitated and then groped my way forward, found my pack and got out the Luger Jean had given me. ‘Here,’ I said, handing it to him. ‘Does that make you happier?’

  He took it and stood for a moment, holding it in his hand. I glanced at my watch. Eleven o’clock. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Time we were moving.’

  As we walked up towards the road, lights cleaved the darkness away to our right. We waited, watching them grow nearer, watching the trees become black shapes fringed already with a coating of snow. I put my watch to my ear, listening for the ti
ck of it, afraid for the moment that it had stopped and this was Garry’s convoy. Then a single truck swept by giving us a brief glimpse of the road curving upwards through the timber, already whitening under the curtain of snow swirling down through the gap in the trees.

  A moment later I was climbing a fir tree that stood close against the telephone wires. I had my testing box slung round my neck. I clipped the wires on and waited, my eyes on my watch. At eleven-fifteen exactly I reached into my pack, pulled out a pair of pliers and cut both wires close by my clips. Then I lifted my receiver and wound the handle in a single long ring. There was no answer. I repeated the ring. Suddenly a voice was crackling in my ears. ‘Valley guard.’

  I held the mouthpiece well away from me. ‘Trevedian here,’ I bawled, deepening my voice. ‘I’ve had a report—’

  Another voice chipped in on the line. ‘Butler, Slide Camp, here. What’s the trouble?’

  ‘Get off the line, Butler,’ I shouted. ‘I’m talking to the Valley guard. Valley guard?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Trevedian.’

  ‘I’ve had a report of some falls occurring a couple of miles up from you. Go up and investigate. It’s by that first overhang just after the hairpin bends.’

  ‘It’d be quicker to send a truck down from the camp. They could send a gang down—’

  ‘I’m not bringing a truck down through this snow on a vague report,’ I yelled at him. ‘You’re nearest. You get up there and see what it’s all about. There’s a short-cut—’

  ‘But, Mr Trevedian. There’s a truck just gone up. He’ll be able to report at the other—’

  ‘Will you stop making excuses for getting a little snow down your damned neck. Get up there and report back to me. That’s an order. And take that short-cut. It’ll save you a good fifteen minutes. Now, get moving.’ I banged the receiver down and stayed there for a moment, clinging to the tree, trembling so much from nervous exhaustion that I was in danger of falling.

  ‘Are you coming down?’ Boy called up.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not for a moment.’ I lifted the receiver again and placed it reluctantly to my ears. But the line was dead. Neither the man up at the camp nor the guard had apparently dared to ring back. As the minutes passed I began to feel easier. I glanced at my watch. Eleven twenty-three. The guard should be well up the road by now.

  ‘Got rid of the guard?’ Boy asked, as I climbed down.

  ‘I think so,’ I said. ‘If Bill isn’t here in the next five minutes we’ll know for sure.’

  We waited in silence after that. It was very dark. The snow made a gentle, murmuring sound as it fell and the wind stirred the tops of the firs. From behind us came the sound of water. Every now and then I glanced at my watch and as the minute hand crept slowly to the half-hour my nervousness increased. One of the trucks might have developed engine trouble. Maybe the snow had already drifted down towards Keithley. Or they might have got bogged down.

  Suddenly Boy’s hand gripped my arm. Above the now familiar sounds of water, wind and snow I thought I heard a steady, distant murmur like the rattle of tanks in a parallel valley. The sound steadily grew and then a beam of light glowed yellow through the curtain of the snow. The light increased steadily till we could see each other’s faces and the shape of the trees around us. Two eyes suddenly thrust the black dots of the snow aside and an instant later the hulking shape of a diesel truck showed in the murk and panted to a stop. I glanced at my watch. It was eleven-thirty exactly.

  ‘That you, Garry?’ Boy called.

  ‘Sure and it’s me. Who d’you think it was?’ Garry leaned out of the cab. ‘What now, Bruce?’

  I signalled Boy to clamber on and swung myself up on to the step. ‘All your trucks behind you?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. I checked about five miles back. What do we do now? What’s the plan, eh?’

  ‘Get going as fast as we can,’ I said.

  The driver leaned forward to thrust in his gear, but Garry stopped him. ‘Before we go ahead I want to know just what sort of trouble I’m headed for.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not budging till I know your plan, Bruce. There’s six vehicles here and a man to each vehicle. I’m responsible for them. I got to know what I’m heading into.’

  ‘We’ll talk as we go,’ I said.

  ‘No. Now.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ I shouted at him angrily. ‘The guard is off the gate. Every second you delay—’ I took a deep breath and got control of myself. ‘Get going,’ I said. ‘My plan works on split timing over this section.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘You’re half a minute behind schedule now. If you can’t make up that half minute you might just as well not have run over from 150-Mile House. And if you miss it this time, there won’t be another chance. All your effort will have been wasted. I can only do this once.’

  He hesitated, but I think the earnestness of my voice convinced him as much as my words. He motioned to the driver. The gears crunched, the big motor roared and the trees began to fall away from us on either side as the heavy rig truck gathered speed.

  ‘I see you cut the telephone wires.’ Garry’s voice was barely audible above the roar of the engine.

  ‘That’s why I can’t do it again,’ I said. ‘All we’ve got to do is rely on confusion. I’ve been tapping the telephone wires and issuing orders in the name of Trevedian. That enough for you to go on with?’

  He hesitated. Then he suddenly nodded and squeezed my arm. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You got something up your sleeve. I know that. But if the guard is off the gate up here, I’ll agree you’ve been smart and leave it at that for the moment.’

  All the way up I was watching for Bill, but there was no sign of him and as we rounded the bend where the guard was posted I saw that the gate was swung open and knew that it was all right so far. I caught a glimpse of the deserted guard hut as we passed and then we were climbing. ‘Can you manage on sidelights?’ I shouted to the driver.

  For answer he switched off the heads. The night closed in. Snow was beating against the clicking windscreen wipers. He switched on the heads again. ‘Too dangerous.’ I leaned out from the running board and looked back. The other trucks had their headlights on now. I counted five. A pity about the heads, but it couldn’t be helped. I glanced at my watch. Eleven thirty-six. The guard should be on the short-cut now. Slowly we approached the point where the shoulder of rock rose, blocking the road and forcing it away to the right into the hairpins. A figure loomed suddenly in the headlights—a figure on horseback, ghostly in his mantle of white.

  At a gesture from me the driver checked. ‘Bruce?’ Bill called. And then as he saw me leaning out towards him he shouted, ‘It’s okay. He’s on the trail now. Started up at eleven thirty-three.’

  ‘Fine. See you at the Kingdom.’

  His ‘Good luck!’ came faintly as the engine roared and we swung away to the first of the hairpins.

  That first bend had me in a panic. The truck was big, probably a lot bigger than the ones Trevedian was using. If we got stuck on the hairpins . . .

  But we didn’t get stuck. The driver knew his stuff and we scraped round with inches to spare. The second and third bends were easier, but on the fourth we were forced to run back slightly. And then we were over the top and running out to the cliff where the overhang was. ‘Now listen, Garry,’ I shouted. ‘I’m dropping off in a minute. You’ll go on till you get to an area of swamp ground where a lot of hard core has been thrown in to make a causeway. Just beyond that you’ll find a place where you can turn off to the right into the brush. Get all your vehicles parked in under the trees and all facing outwards, ready to go on up the road at a moment’s notice. All lights out. No smoking. No talking. I’ll bring the last truck in myself a little later. Okay?’

  He nodded. ‘Another phone call to make?’ he said with a grin.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. The road was a shelf now, running along the cliff face. The headlights showed rock and road, and beyond, noth
ing but black emptiness. Slowly the big truck rounded the bend under the overhang and then dipped her nose for the long, straight run down to the swamp ground. And as the nose dipped I dropped to the ground.

  One by one the trucks passed me—a pair of round eyes beaming into blazing headlights as they pierced the snow and then sudden blackness as the bulk of it ground past me. Three—four—five; and then I was flagging down the last truck, jumping for the running board. ‘I’m Bruce Wetheral,’ I shouted to the driver. ‘Pull up a moment, will you?’

  He hesitated, eyeing me uncertainly. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘I’ve just dropped off Garry’s truck.’

  ‘Okay.’ The engine died and the big tanker pulled up with a jerk. ‘What now?’

  ‘We’re acting as rear guard,’ I told him, unslinging my pack. ‘They’ll be waiting for us about a mile further on.’ I pulled out the box containing batteries and detonating plunger, slung the coil of wire over my shoulder and flicked on my torch. ‘I’ll be about five minutes,’ I said.

  The snow was thicker now as I walked back down the road. In places it was drifting. My feet made no sound. Visibility was almost nil—the torch revealed nothing but a world of whirling white. I found the cliff wall and felt my way along it, probing with the torch for the branch with which I had marked the shot holes. The branch was still there, white with snow. I found the wires without difficulty, connected up with them and walked back, trailing the battery wires out behind me. At the limit of the wires I connected to the batteries, checked my connections carefully and then stood back, hesitating for a moment, wondering whether I had fixed the detonators correctly, scarcely believing that a thrust of the plunger could bring down thousands of tons of rock. Then quickly I stooped, grasped the handle and plunged it down.