A Damaged Reputation

by Harold Bindloss

  XV.

  SAXTON GAINS HIS POINT.

  Brooke was very wet and physically weary, which in part accounted forhis dejected state of mind, when he led his jaded horse up the last fewrods of climbing trail that crossed the big divide. It had just ceasedraining, and the slippery rock ran water, while a cold wind, which sethim shivering, shook a doleful wailing out of the scattered pines. Oneof them had fallen, and, stopping beside it, he looped the bridle rounda broken branch, and sat down to rest and think, for the difficulties ofthe way had occupied his attention during a long day's journey, and,since he expected to meet Saxton in another hour, he had food forreflection.

  It was not a cheerful prospect he looked down upon, and that evening thedesolation of the surroundings reacted upon him. The gleaming snow wassmothered now in banks of dingy mist, and below him there rolled away adreary waste of pines, whose ragged spires rose out of the driftingvapors rent and twisted by the ceaseless winds. It was, in words he hadnot infrequently heard applied to it, a hard country he must spend hisyears of exile in, and of late nothing had gone well with him.

  Since he had last seen Saxton, he had lived in a state of tension,waiting for the time when circumstances should render the carrying outof their purpose feasible, and yet clinging to a faint hope that hemight, by some unknown means, still be relieved of the necessity ofpersisting in a course that was becoming more odious every day. The damwas almost completed, but it was with dismay he had counted the cost ofit, and twice the steel rope had torn up stays and columns, and hurledthem into the canyon, while he would, he knew, be fortunate if he secureda profit of a couple of hundred dollars as the result of several monthsof perilous labor. Prosperity, it was very evident, was not to beachieved in that fashion. He had also seen very little of BarbaraHeathcote for some time, and she had been to him as a mental stimulant,of which he felt the loss, while now his prospects seemed as dreary asthe dripping waste he stared across with heavy eyes. All this, as ithappened, bore directly upon his errand, for it once more brought homethe fact that a man without dollars could expect very little in thatcountry, while there was, it seemed, only one way of obtaining them opento him. It was true that he shrank from availing himself of it, but thatdid not, after all, greatly affect the case, and he endeavored to reviewthe situation dispassionately.

  He had decided that he was warranted in recovering the six thousanddollars by any means available, and it was evidently folly to take intoaccount the anger and contempt of a girl who could, of course, benothing to him. Her station placed that out of the question, since itwould, so far as he could see, be a very long time indeed before hecould secure even the most modest competence, and he felt that there wasa still greater distinction between them morally; but, in spite of this,he realized that the girl's approbation was the one thing he clung to.He could scarcely nerve himself to fling it away, and yet it seemed, inthe light of reason, a very indifferent requital for a life of struggleand poverty. She had, he told himself, merely taken a passing interestin him, and once she met a man of her own station fortunate enough togain her regard, was scarcely likely even to remember him.

  Then he rose with a little hardening of his lips, and, flinging himselfwearily into the saddle, strove to shake off his thoughts as the jadedhorse floundered down into the valley. They were both too weary toattempt to pick their way, and went down, sliding and slipping, with thegravel rattling away from under them, until they reached the thickertimber, and smashed recklessly through thickets of giant fern and salmonberry. Now and then a drooping branch struck Brooke as he passed, but hescarcely noticed it, and rode on, swaying in his saddle, while greatdrops of moisture splashed upon his grim, wet face. It was sunrise whenhe had ridden out from the Canopus mine, with his horse's head turnedtowards the settlement, and dark was closing down when at last hedropped, aching all over, from the saddle at the door of Saxton's shantyat the Elktail mine. The latter, who opened it, smiled at him somewhatdrily, and was by no means effusive in his greeting.

  "I wasn't quite sure the message I sent you from Vancouver would fetchyou, though I made it tolerably straight," he said.

  "You certainly did," said Brooke. "In fact, I don't know that you couldhave made it more unlikely to bring me here. Still, what put the fancythat I might disregard it into your head?"

  Saxton looked at him curiously. "Well," he said, with an air ofreflection, "you seemed to be quite at home in several senses, andmaking the most of it there. There are folks who would consider thatgirl with the big eyes pretty."

  Brooke, who was entering the shanty, swung round sharply. "I think wecan leave Miss Heathcote out. It's a little difficult to understand howyou came to know what I was doing at the Canopus? You were inVancouver."

  Saxton appeared almost disconcerted for a moment, but he laughed."Well," he said, "I figured on what was most likely when I heard MissHeathcote was still there."

  He saw that he had made another mistake, and wondered whether Brooke,who had, as it happened, done so, had noticed it, while the fact thatthe latter's face was now expressionless roused him to a little displayof vindictiveness.

  "I heard something about her in Vancouver, anyway, which it's quitelikely she didn't mention to you. It was that she's mighty good friendswith one of the Pacific Squadron officers. She has a good many dollarsof her own, and they're mostly folks who make a splash in their owncountry."

  Brooke afterwards decided that this must have been an inspiration, butjust then he felt that Saxton was watching him, and showed no sign ofinterest.

  "If she did, I don't remember it, though I should consider the thingquite probable," he said. "Still, as Miss Heathcote's fancies don'tconcern us, wouldn't it be more to the purpose if you got me a little toeat?"

  Saxton summoned his cook, and nothing more was said until Brooke hadfinished his meal. Then his host looked at him as they sat beside thecrackling stove.

  "Isn't it 'bout time you made a move at the Canopus?" he said. "So faras you have gone, you have only spoiled my hand. You didn't go there tobuild Devine flumes and dams."

  "In point of fact, I rather think I did. The difficulty, however, isthat I am still unable to get into the mine. I have invented severalexcuses, which did not work, already. Nobody except the men who get theore is even allowed to look at the workings."

  A little gleam crept into Saxton's eyes. "Now, it seems to me thatDevine has struck it rich, or he wouldn't be so concerned particular.It's quite plain that he doesn't want everybody to know what he'sgetting out of the Canopus. It's only a mine that's paying folks thinkof jumping."

  "Has it struck you that he might wish to sell it, and be takingprecautions for exactly the opposite reason?"

  Saxton made a little gesture of approval, though he shook his head. "Youshow you have a little sense now and then, but there's nothing in thatview," he said. "Is a man going to lay out dollars on dams and wire-ropeslings when he knows that none of them will be any use to him?"

  "I think he might. That is, if he wanted investors, who could be inducedto take it off his hands, to hear of it."

  "The point is that he has only to put the Canopus into the market, andthey'd pile down the dollars now."

  "Still, it is presumably our business, and not Devine's, you purposed totalk about."

  Saxton nodded. "Then we'll start in," he said. "You can't get into themine, and it has struck me that if you could your eyes wouldn't be asgood as a compass and a measuring-chain. Well, that brings us to thenext move. When Devine left Vancouver a week ago, he took up a tin casehe keeps the plans and patents of the Canopus in with him. You needn'tworry about how I'm sure of this, but I am. Those papers will tell usall we want to know."

  "I have no doubt they would. Still, I don't see that we are any nearergetting over the difficulty. Devine is scarcely likely to show them me."

  "You'll have to lay your hands upon the case. It's in the ranch."

  Brooke's face flushed, and for a moment his lips set tight, while heclosed one hand as he looked at his confed
erate. Then he spoke onimpulse, "I'll be hanged if I do!"

  Saxton, who had, perhaps, expected the outbreak, regarded him with alittle sardonic smile.

  "Now," he said, quietly, "you'll listen to me, and put aside thosenotions of yours for a while. I've had about enough of them already.Devine robbed you--once--and he has taken dollars out of my pocket agood many times, while I can't see any great difference between glancingat another man's papers and crawling into his mine. We're not going totake the Canopus from him anyway--it would be too big a deal--but wehave got to find out enough to put the screw on him. You don't owe himanything, for you're building those flumes and dams cheaper than hewould get it done by anybody else."

  Brooke sat silent a space, with the blood still in his cheeks and onehand closed. He was sensible of a curious disgust, and yet it wasevident that his confederate was right. There was, after all, no greatdifference between the scheme suggested and what he had already beenwilling to do, and yet he was sensible that it was not that fact whichchiefly influenced him, for Saxton had done wisely when he hinted atBarbara Heathcote's supposititious fondness for the naval officer.Brooke had already endeavored to contemplate the likelihood of somethingof this kind happening, with equanimity, and there was nothingincredible about the story. The men of the Pacific Squadron werefrequently in Victoria, and steamers crossed to Vancouver every day; butnow probability had changed to what appeared to be certainty, he wassensible almost of dismay. At the same time, the restraint which hadcounted most with him was suddenly removed, and he turned to Saxton witha little decisive gesture. He certainly owed Devine nothing, and hisconfederate had, when he needed it badly, shown him what he fancied was,in part, at least, genuine kindness.

  "Well," he said, "I will do what I can."

  "Then," said Saxton, drily, "you had better do it soon. Devine goesacross to the Sumas valley, where he's selling land, every now and then,and I have reason for believing he's expected there not later than nextweek. I guess he's not likely to take that case with him. It's quite abig one. You'll get hold of it, and find out what we want to know, assoon as he's gone."

  "The question is--How am I to manage it? You wouldn't expect me to pickthe lock of his safe, presumably?"

  Saxton, who appeared reflective, quite failed to notice the irony of theinquiry. "Well," he said, "if I figured I could do it, I guess Iwouldn't let that stand in my way. Still, I'm not sure that he has any,and it's even chances he keeps the case under some books or truck ofthat kind in the room he has fixed up as office at the ranch. You see,the dollars for the men come straight up from Vancouver every pay-day."

  Brooke straightened himself in his chair, with a little shake of hisshoulders. "Now," he said, "we'll talk of something else. This isn'tparticularly pleasant. I had, of course, realized before I came out thatone might find it necessary to follow an occupation he had no particulartaste for in the Dominion of Canada, which is, it seems, the home of theadaptable man who can accustom himself to anything, but I really neverexpected that I should consider it an admissible thing to steal myemployer's papers. That, however, is not the question. Give me a cigar,and tell me how you purpose stimulating the progress of this greatprovince when you get into the Legislature."

  Saxton did so at length, and it was perfectly evident that he saw noincongruity between what he purposed to do when in the Legislature andthe means he adopted of getting there, for he sketched out reforms andimprovements with optimistic ability. Once or twice a sardonic smilecrept into Brooke's eyes, for there was no mistaking the fact that theman was serious, and then his attention wandered, and he ruminated onthe position. Saxton appeared curiously well informed as to Devine'smovements, but though Brooke could find no answer to the question how hehad obtained the information, it did not, after all, seem to be of anygreat importance, and he once more found himself listening to hiscomrade languidly. Saxton was then declaiming against officialcorruption and incapacity.

  "We want to make a clean sweep, and put the best and squarest men intooffice. This country has no use for any other kind," he said.

  "That," said Brooke, drily, "is no doubt why you are going in. Anyway, Ifancy it is getting late, and I have a long ride before me to-morrow."

  Saxton smiled good-humoredly. "Well," he said, "I can go just asstraight as any man when I've made my little pile. Most folks find it agood deal easier then."

  It seemed to Brooke, who had not found adversity especially conduciveto uprightness, that there was, perhaps, a certain truth in hiscomrade's notion, but he felt no great inclination to consider thequestion, and in another ten minutes was sinking into sleep. He alsostarted before sunrise next morning, and was walking stiffly up theclimbing trail to the Canopus mine, with the bridle of the jaded horsein his hand, when he came upon Barbara Heathcote amidst the pines. Sheapparently noticed his weariness and the mire upon the horse.

  "The trail must have been very bad," she said.

  "It certainly was," said Brooke, who, because it did not appearadvisable that any one should suspect he was riding to the Elktail mine,had taken the trail to the settlement when he set out. "When there hasbeen heavy rain, it usually is. The trail-choppers should have laid downlogs in the Saverne swamp."

  "But what took you that way?" said the girl. "It must have been atremendous round."

  Brooke realized that he had been indiscreet, for nobody who wished toreach the settlement was likely to cross that swamp.

  "As a matter of fact, it is," he said. "As you see, the horse is almostplayed out."

  Barbara glanced at him, as he fancied, rather curiously, but she changedthe subject. "I have a friend from Vancouver, who heard you play at theconcert, here, and we had hoped you might be persuaded to bring yourviolin across to the ranch to-night. Katty asked Jimmy to tell you thatwe expected you. That is, if you were not too tired."

  Brooke felt the blood creep into his face. He longed to go, but he had asense of fitness, and he felt that, although such scruples were a trifleout of place in his case, he could not, after the arrangement he hadmade with Saxton, betray the girl's confidence by visiting the ranchagain as a respected guest. No excuse but the one she had suggested,however, presented itself, and it seemed to him advisable to make use ofit with uncompromising candidness. Her friendliness hurt him, and, sinceit presumably sprang from a mistaken good opinion, it would be a slightrelief to show her that he was deficient even in courtesy.

  "I'm almost afraid I am," he said.

  Barbara Heathcote had a good deal of self-restraint, but there was atrace of astonishment in her face, and, for a moment, a suspicioussparkle in her eyes.

  "Then we will, of course, excuse you," she said. "You will, I hope, notthink it very inconsiderate of me to stop you now."

  Brooke said nothing, but tugged at the bridle viciously, and trudgedforward into the gloom of the pines, while Barbara, who would not admitthat she had come there in the hope of meeting him, turned homewardsthoughtfully. As it happened, she also met the freight-packer, whobrought their supplies up on the way.

  "Where is Saverne swamp? Behind the range, isn't it?" she said.

  "Yes, miss," said the freighter, pointing across the pines. "Backyonder."

  "Then if I wished to ride into the settlement I could scarcely go roundthat way?"

  The man laughed. "No," he said. "I guess you couldn't. Not unless youstarted the night before, and then you'd have to climb right across thebig divide. Nobody heading for the settlement would take that trail."

  He went on with his loaded beasts, and Barbara stood still, looking downupon the forest with a little pink tinge in her cheeks and a curiousexpression in her eyes. Remembering the trace of disconcertion he hadshown, she very much wished to know where Brooke had really been.