Kitabı oku: «Northwest!», sayfa 14

XXVII
DEERING'S PROGRESS

Soon after Deering started from the hotel he met Jardine. Deering knew the shrewd Canadian Scots and thought the rancher a man to trust. Moreover he had not yet got all the light he wanted. Jardine was on foot and Deering said, "Hello! It's a long hike to Kelshope. Where's your horse?"

"Margaret's got the cayuse at Green Lake. D'ye no' ken?"

"I didn't know," said Deering. "But you're coming from the station. When do they expect the construction train?"

"She stopped doon the track for the boys to fix some rails. The operator was grumbling because she'd no' get through till dark and he'd got to block the line for the Kamloops freight."

"Oh, well," said Deering, "since I want to get on board the calaboose, perhaps her stopping in the dark is not a drawback. But what about Miss Margaret's going to Green Lake?"

Jardine looked at him rather hard. "I alloo ye're Mr. Leyland's friend?"

"Sure thing!" said Deering. "Jimmy reckons you his friend. Well, I want to know how he got away."

Jardine told him and Deering pondered. He had undertaken an awkward job, and since he saw some obstacles, he resolved to give the rancher his confidence. Among the trees the frost was not keen and the sun was on the road. Deering indicated a spruce log and pulled out some cigars.

"Suppose we take a smoke and talk," he said, and when Jardine lighted a cigar resumed: "Won't Miss Margaret's shooting the fellow's horse make trouble for her?"

"I reckon not," said Jardine, who had heard the trooper's statement, and when he got a note from Margaret remarked that the narratives did not agree. "I'm thinking the boys dinna mean to pit it on Margaret and the trooper's no' altogether prood."

"It's possible. But why didn't you put Jimmy wise?"

"I'd cut my foot chopping, a day or two before."

Deering rather doubted if Jardine's cutting his foot accounted for all, but he said, "Let's talk straight! I suppose Miss Margaret is going to marry Leyland?"

"Maybe, but I dinna ken. Jimmy wanted to marry her."

"Very well," said Deering. "I'll tell you all I know."

He narrated his interview with Laura and Stannard's going to Jimmy's help. Jardine's look got thoughtful and sometimes he frowned. When Deering stopped he said, "Ye dinna trust Stannard! Ye'd sooner Jimmy hadna gone across the rocks wi' him?"

"I would sooner he had not," Deering agreed. "Jimmy trusts Stannard, the others are tenderfoots, and I understand they have not a first-class guide."

"The man they've got is no' a mountain guide ava; Gillane's a packer on the Government surveys. But I dinna see much light yet. Jimmy owes Stannard a guid sum."

"Leyland insured his life in Stannard's favor and Stannard wants money. Well, I'm going up the line with the construction gang to follow the party's trail."

Jardine got up and his look was very grim. "Just that! I'll join ye."

"Not at all," said Deering. "Your part's to go to Green River depot afterwards and watch out. I expect you're a good bushman, but this is a job for a first-class mountaineer. Besides, you cut your foot!"

Jardine gave him a keen glance, but Deering resumed. "You see, I must hit up the pace and can't boost you along. Can I hire a young man, a prospector if possible, at Green River?"

The other's arguments did not move him and by and by Jardine resigned himself to stay behind.

"I'm thinking my nephew, Peter, is the man ye want. Whiles he goes to the depot for his groceries and mail. The storekeeper will ken if he's aboot. Ye can tell Peter I sent ye to him."

After a few minutes Deering went off, but he went slowly and did not keep the road to the station. Joining the line two or three miles down the valley, he found a track-grader's tool hut and went in and smoked. The hut was cold, but Deering's fur coat was thick and good. When dusk began to fall he walked along the track and stopped three or four hundred yards from the station.

By and by a light twinkled like a star in the gloom of the woods. A steady throb rolled up the valley, and presently Deering distinguished a locomotive's measured snorts and the rumble of wheels. The star was now a dazzling moon, and its reflections picked out, far in advance, glittering rails and frost-spangled trees. When the locomotive was level with Deering he began to run up the line, and soon after the train stopped he got behind the last car.

He knew the company's rules, but he knew something about train-gangs, and he had ready a few dollar bills. Although the station agent did not see him get on board, when the train rolled up the track he occupied a box in front of the calaboose stove. The men gave him supper, and when he had drained a can of strong coffee he pulled out some cards and showed how an expert puzzled his antagonists.

Cold draughts swept the rocking calaboose, the stove roared, and one smelt locomotive smoke. Labored snorts echoed in the rocks, couplings rang, and when the train sped across a bridge the roll of wheels drowned Deering's voice. Deering smiled and waited for the noise to stop. He had undertaken a daunting job and was bothered about Jimmy, but in the meantime he owed something to his hosts and he played up. Although Deering had some drawbacks, his rule was to play up.

A number of the men had long studied cards and could bluff on a poor hand. Three or four won regularly some part of their companions' wages, but they knew a master's touch and for a time Deering held the group. Then he lighted his pipe and began to talk about something else. He found out that the train ran between a gravel pit and Green River. The men were filling up a trestle and cutting out an awkward curve.

"Have they got a hotel at the settlement?" Deering inquired.

"They've no use for a hotel at Green River. Sometimes a rancher comes in for his mail and a survey party jumps off. I guess that's all. You can stop at the post office. The man who keeps it runs a small store."

"Nothing much doing yet," Deering remarked. "Do the mounted policemen come to the settlement?"

A big shovel-man laughed. "They're getting busy around Green River. Two lots came in not long since and a trooper's there now, but he won't bother you. Looks as if he was sent to watch out for somebody who wanted to get on the train."

"Then, you reckon they're after somebody in the rocks?" said Deering carelessly.

"That's so," another agreed. "I wouldn't bet much on the fellow's chance! When we ran up with the last load, a police outfit was starting for the range. Three or four troopers and a pack-horse. They'd loaded up some truck."

"Oh, well," said Deering. "The Royal North-West are smart boys, but I've known them beat. However, I've been for some time on the road and think I'll go to bed. Can somebody give me a bunk?"

They gave him a bunk, and for an hour or two he slept; he knew it might be long before he slept warm again. When he awoke the locomotive bell was tolling and the roll of wheels was getting slack. The calaboose was very cold, and Deering, jumping from his bunk, went to the open door.

In front a fire burned by a water tank and the beam from the headlamp flickered across a small clearing and touched a wooden house. Farther off, a big blast-lamp threw up a pillar of flame. The light tossed and for a few moments all was shadowy. Then the strong illumination leaped up again, and Deering saw a man who carried a short rifle walk along the line. He knew the Royal North-West uniform.

Deering picked up his fur coat and hesitated. In the mountains one must wear proper clothes and the coat was good, but unless he could cheat the trooper he might not reach the mountains. He touched the man who had given him the bunk.

"I'll trade my coat and cap for yours."

The fellow's skin coat and cap were old, and he looked at Deering with surprise.

"Why do you want to trade? A track-grader doesn't buy Revillon furs."

Deering indicated the trooper. "The policeman might calculate something like that, but I expect he knows you belong to the gang. You are going to dump some rails and for half an hour I want a job."

"Now I get you!" said the other.

He pulled off his shabby coat, and when the train stopped and Deering jumped down nothing distinguished him from the construction gang. Climbing on to a flat car, he joined the men who threw down the rails, and presently saw the trooper stop the fellow who wore his coat and cap. He did not know how the railroad man accounted for his wearing good furs, but he was obviously a track-grader and after a few moments the trooper let him go. Then the train rolled up the line and Deering stayed with the men who moved the rails.

By and by the trooper walked past the gang, glanced at the men carelessly, and, turning back, vanished in the gloom. Deering thought him satisfied nobody but the track-graders was about, and soon afterwards he started for the house. So far, he had trusted his luck, but he wanted help and must get food. Moreover, he must not excite the storekeeper's curiosity.

A clump of pines cut the illumination up the track. Sometimes when the blast-lamp's flame leaped up, bright reflections touched the house, but for the most part, the ground in front was dark. When Deering was near the door, a man came out and stopped for a few moments. Deering thought him a rancher and when he went down the steps met him at the bottom.

"Can I buy some flour and groceries?" he asked.

"You might," said the other and looked at Deering as if he thought the inquiry strange. "Why do you want groceries? Where are you going?"

Deering saw something must be risked and when a risk must be run he did not hesitate.

"If I can find the trail, I'm going up the valley. Peter Jardine has a ranch at the lake, I think?"

"That's so," said the other. "I'm Peter Jardine!"

Deering laughed. His luck had not turned and when the reflections from the blast-lamp touched the rancher's face he thought he had got the proper man.

"Then, as soon as you can get me some groceries, I'll start for the rocks. Your uncle sent me along and stated you would help. You see, I'm Jimmy Leyland's partner and Miss Margaret's friend."

"Ah," said Peter, "you're Deering? Well, the police are after Jimmy. For some days two troopers hunted for his tracks and then a sergeant and another came in on the train and started off as if they knew where he was. In the meantime, a sports outfit hit the trail, but I didn't meet up with them. I made the station in the afternoon and didn't know what I ought to do. In fact, when you came along, I was wondering if I'd pull out for the ranch."

"You're coming with me. I don't want to boast, but I'm a mountain clubman and on the rocks I reckon I can beat the police."

"But Jimmy's friends got off in front of the troopers."

"There's the trouble; they're not all his friends," Deering rejoined. "On the whole, I'd sooner the police got him than he crossed the range with the other lot. But we'll talk about this again. When can you start?"

"I can start as soon as my horse is loaded up, but we have got to bluff the policeman. He mustn't see us take the mountain trail. Well, I've pork and flour and groceries. Have you got all you want?"

"I want a Hudson's Bay blanket and a pack-rope," said Deering and gave Peter a roll of bills. "Then you had better buy a frying-pan and grub-hoe."

"Very well. Go ahead up the trail across the clearing and wait for me by the creek," said Peter and returned to the store.

After a time he rejoined Deering and tied his loaded horse to a branch.

"The storekeeper knows I hit the Green Lake trail, and we don't want the cayuse. When we have sorted out the truck we need, he'll make the ranch all right. Light the lantern and we'll fix our packs."

Deering lighted the lantern and after a few minutes strapped a bag of food on his back. He pushed his folded blanket through the straps, gave Peter the rope, and picked up the grub-hoe, a Canadian digging tool very like a mountaineer's ice-ax. Then they put out the light, let the horse go, and went back quietly to the railroad. Nobody was about, and stealing across the line, they plunged into the gloom.

"My luck's good," said Deering. "When I think about all we're up against, I sure want it good."

XXVIII
A DISSOLVING PICTURE

After a time Deering stopped and looked about. The stones on the river bank were large and sharp, the night was dark, and his load embarrassed him. In the distance, he saw a small red fire; a dim light marked the post office, and the reflections from the blast-lamp quivered behind the trees. Deering got his breath and braced up.

Born in the bush, he had known poverty and stern physical toil. He was a good mountaineer, but he admitted that his two hundred pounds was something of a load to carry across icy rocks. Then he had, for the most part, lived extravagantly at fashionable hotels, and his big muscles were soft; but this was not all. The distant lights stood for human society and civilization. Deering was very human and fought against an atavistic shrinking from the dark and loneliness. Moreover, he knew the wilds. For all that, he meant to conquer his shrinking.

He admitted that he was perhaps a romantic sentimentalist and his adventure did not harmonize with his occupation. Sometimes, however, one was not logical and not long since he would have plunged down the rocks but for Jimmy's pluck. Besides he saw Stannard had used him to entangle the lad. Deering had his rude code, but Stannard had none. He was cold and calculating, and Deering thought he meant to carry out the plan he tried before when he sent Jimmy over the neck. Although Deering did not like the job, he meant to baffle him.

In the meantime, all was quiet but for the turmoil of the river a few yards off. Dark pines occupied the narrow level belt by the track, and on the other side vague blurred rocks went up. Thin mist drifted about, and the line, running downhill, melted into the gloom. The trooper was at the station and Deering imagined nobody was about.

"The stones are sharp and slippery," he said. "We'll take the track and push on for the section-hut."

They got on the line, but did not progress fast. The gravel ballast was large and hurt their feet; the ties were not evenly spaced. Sometimes Deering stepped on the timber and sometimes on the loose stones. Then numerous ravines pierced the rocks, and although the construction gangs had begun to fill up the chasms, for the most part wooden trestles spanned the gaps. To cross an open-work trestle in the dark is awkward, and when Deering balanced on a narrow tie and looked for the next, he sweated and breathed hard. On one trestle he stopped. Sixty feet below him, he saw the foam of an angry torrent; the next tie was some distance off, and the wood sparkled with frost.

In a sense, his adventure was ridiculous. When he used the railroad he went on board a first-class car and checked his baggage. Now he stumbled over the ballast and carried on his back all he could not go without. In the meantime, however, he must cross the trestle, and he trusted his luck and jumped.

He got across and after three or four hours they reached the section-shack. Graham was in bed, but he got up and told them all they wanted to know. Three policemen with an Indian and a pack-horse had come down the track and Graham imagined they had found the entrance to Jimmy's valley. He reckoned they would send back the Indian and the horse when they took the rocks, but the fellow had not yet returned. Peter was puzzled about the Indian.

"They didn't hire him up at the station," he remarked. "Looks as if they'd fixed it for him to meet them."

"It looks as if they'd made their plans and their plans were pretty good," said Deering. "However, since they've got a loaded horse, they can't shove on fast. How long was the other outfit in front?"

Graham told him and for a few moments Deering pondered. Then he said, "It's awkward! Stannard knows where Jimmy is, and he'll hit up the pace. I reckon the police don't know and must look for his tracks. If we hustle, we'll run up against the gang."

The difficulty was obvious and Peter frowned.

"We might get by their camp in the dark. We'd see the fire."

"I doubt," Deering rejoined. "If the boys make a fire, they'll make it where the light is hid. They don't want to put Jimmy wise."

"Well?" said Peter. "What is your plan?"

Deering laughed, a noisy laugh, for now he had started, his hesitation vanished.

"We'll trust our luck and shove ahead. In the morning we'll get up the rocks and look about. I've brought my glasses. Let's get going."

Graham gave them directions and when they climbed a steep hill they found the valley. The ground was broken and in places covered by tangled brush, but they made progress and at daybreak labored across the snow to the top of a spur. Deering sat on his pack and used his prismatic glasses.

Gray cloud floated about the mountain slopes, but the high peaks were sharp and began to shine in the rising sun. Some were rose-pink and some were yellow; the hollows between their broken tops were gray and blue. A map of the mountains occupied a wall of the hotel rotunda, and Deering, using his glasses, imagined it roughly accurate.

"I expect the blue gap is the head of the valley," he remarked and when Peter nodded resumed: "We'll allow Stannard joined Jimmy ahead of the police and took him along. We have got to hit their line and this is not as hard as it looks. They can't steer for the shoulder of the big peak; the rocks won't go and I see an ugly ice-fall on the glacier. I reckon I'd head back, obliquely, for the col, up the long arrête."

"I don't use no habitant French," Peter observed.

"Oh, well. Our clubmen have begun to use the tourists' talk," said Deering and gave Peter the glasses. "Anyway, you see the ridge that runs up to the neck?"

Peter studied the ridge. He had hunted mountain sheep and imagined sun and frost had worn the rocks to something like a knife-edge. In places, sharp pinnacles broke the top, and he thought it significant that for the most part the snow did not lie. The shadow behind the top, no doubt, marked a great precipitous gulf, but the farther end of the ridge touched a white hollow between two peaks. If one could get across, one might find a glacier going down the other side.

"I reckon your friends couldn't make it between sun-up and dark," he said. "Anyhow, the police would see them on the rocks."

"Stannard might hit a line a few yards below the top, but I imagine the clouds will soon roll up. Give me the glasses. I want to locate a gully that goes for some distance up the ridge."

Peter saw his object. The long ridge ran back obliquely from farther up the valley and to get up by the line Deering marked would cut out the corner. Moreover Peter imagined the police had reached Jimmy's hut, and if they found the tracks of Stannard's party, they would climb the ridge from the other end. In consequence, Deering's going up the gully would put him in front.

"I guess we'll start. When we noon we'll be nearer, and if the mist's not thick, you can look for the line you want."

They went down the hill, and by and by the cloud rolled up the slope, and rocks and peaks were lost in gloom. Then Deering began to get tired, for although there was no snow at the bottom of the valley, the ground was rough. After an hour or two he pushed into the timber and stopped.

"Perhaps it's risky, but I've got to eat and take a rest," he said. "The trees are pretty thick, and if the smoke goes up, the hill's a good background."

They cooked some food and then sat by the fire. Not far off the belt of trees was broken, and presently Deering saw the cloud had got thin and begun to roll back, up the mountains. Vague rocks pierced the vapor and grew distinct; the mist trailed away from battered trees and slanted fields of snow. For a time it clung about the high dark precipices, and then one saw the snow-packed gullies seam the crags like marble veins. A faint light pierced the vapor, and the broken top of the ridge began to cut the background.

Deering pulled out his glasses and went to the opening in the wood. The light was getting stronger, but he did not think the cloud would altogether melt and he must search the rocks while search was possible. By and by a beam touched the ridge and the snow glimmered like pale gold against blue shadow. Above the shadow were broken peaks, but the belt of dark blue indicated a gap and Deering, noting the strong color, thought the gap profound.

The landscape, lighted by the unsteady beam, was strangely beautiful. The pale illumination did not travel far and the rocks outside its reach owed something of their mysterious grandeur to the contrast. Deering, however, was not romantic and thought he saw a line, across a steep, white slope and up a buttress, to the ridge. If he could get up, he would cut Stannard's track and imagined he would not be much behind the party.

He concentrated on the ridge. The slope along the top was not even but went up, rather like a terraced walk. Rocky buttresses supported the terraces, and, for the most part, the stones were free from snow; Deering knew this indicated a very steep pitch. One buttress was marked by a broad white band, and when he rubbed the glasses he thought he saw on the snow a small object he had not remarked before. The object moved, and calling Peter, he gave him the glasses.

"What's that? A cinnamon?"

"The bears have come down," said Peter. "The big-horn have gone for the low benches. I guess the thing's a man."

Deering agreed and waited. Perhaps it was strange, but of all the animals, civilized man alone was willing to front the cold on the daunting heights. The ridge, outlined against a vague background of majestic peaks, looked as remote as another world. To imagine flesh and blood could reach it was hard, but Deering meant to try and knew Stannard's calculating steadiness. If one went carefully, studying the obstacles, and using the ax and rope —

"It's a man all right. I see another," said Jardine and gave Deering the glasses. Deering saw three men. They advanced very slowly, and he pictured their cutting steps before they moved. One crossed the snow-belt and vanished. When he was anchored in the rocks he would steady his companions. Deering knew it was Stannard, for Stannard would not trust a poor guide at a spot like that. The others, perhaps, were Dillon and Stevens. Then he saw two more; Gillane, the packer, and Jimmy. Anyhow, Stannard had started with three companions and now he had four. Deering knew all he wanted to know.

He watched the party, strung out at even distances, move across the white band; and then the figures melted. They had not reached the other side, but when he rubbed his glasses they were gone. The peaks in the background vanished, the ridge got indistinct, and the black pines on the lower snow-fields faded, as if a curtain were drawn across the picture.

Deering shut his glasses and went for his pack. The mist was not thick and he knew his line to the buttress.

"Put out the fire and let's get off," he said.

"You can't cross the ridge in the dark and the cold's going to be fierce," Peter remarked.

"That is so. I doubt if Stannard can make the neck, but if he gets there, he must wait for morning. Maybe we'll find a hole in the rocks."

Peter said nothing. He had engaged to go where the other went and must try to make good, although the road was daunting. In thick timber, a bushman can front biting cold; but on the high, icy rocks one could not make camp and light a fire. If their luck were very good, they might find a hole behind a stone, in which they must wait for daybreak and try not to freeze.

He put out the fire and when they went through the wood pondered gloomily. To reach the neck would cost them much; but to get there was not all. They must get down on the other side, and, for the most part, the mountain tops were tremendous precipices. Peter rather thought the neck opened on a glacier, but sometimes a glacier is broken by awkward ice-falls.

All the same, Peter set his mouth and pushed ahead. In the valley, he could hit up the pace for Deering, but he imagined to follow the big fellow on the rocks was another thing. When a bushman took the rocks he went to shoot big-horn and bear. The mountain clubmen studied climbing as one studies the ball-game.