Читать книгу The Lone Hand - Harold Bindloss - Страница 12

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Snow glimmered on the moor-tops, and where a dark cloud broke, the bleak slopes melted in a gray smear of sleet. The sun, however, was on the Millhouse, and by the pool a few pale primroses pushed through the dead leaves. A robin sang on a bare oak-branch, and water throbbed across the weir.

Flora Scot, steadying herself by a willow-branch, leaned out over the pool. The bank was precipitous and the water deep, and when the branch began to bend Wellwin seized Flora's arm and strongly pulled her back. When he let her go his heart beat and faint color stained her skin. Bob remarked that her brows were knit in a sort of puzzled frown, as if his touch had somehow disturbed her, but when she was conscious of his study the frown melted. She was not going to admit she was annoyed, and he imagined her carelessness, so to speak, was defensive.

"You perhaps do not know I'm a mountaineer," she said. "A mountaineer trusts his feet and his balance, and the stones on which I stood were firm."

"Looks as if you trusted a willow-branch. When the sap runs in spring, a willow-branch is soft and treacherous."

"Then, you have willows in Canada?"

"Sure we have," said Bob. "Willows and oaks and birches, besides the pines and firs. All the trees you have in the Old Country, and then some."

"In aw t' fells there's nea heaf like oor heaf, bleats Herdwick sheep. Perhaps you see the implication?"

"We are both bi-lingual?" Bob suggested with a grin. "Well, although boosting is not allowed, we have trout in Canada, and the fish you spotted behind the stone was a big fellow."

Their habit was to indulge in humorous banter and Flora remarked; "Since you were farther off, your eyes are pretty keen."

"The explanation is, I know where a trout ought to be."

"Then, you are a fisherman?"

Bob nodded. "One tries to be modest, but I imagine you haven't yet found out all my talents. For example, although I did not carry a rope and a long, pointed stick, I have crawled about on snowy rocks."

"A mountaineer does not carry a pointed stick," Flora rejoined. "What was your load?"

"Sometimes a surveyor's chain and two blankets, but I have carried a seventy-pound bag of flour."

Flora thought it possible. Wellwin was athletic and his balance was good. His statement interested her; she rather imagined he meant it to do so and she might be frank.

"But you are a lumber company's salesman. In England when one moves heavy stuff one engages a porter."

"At present, I am a salesman, but I have stacked boards at a sawmill and hauled logs in the snow. Then, you see, I expect to get a more important post, and a good lumber man knows all about his job. I mustn't bore you, but sometimes I have an object for talking at large."

"I wondered——" said Flora. "You will perhaps satisfy my curiosity?"

"Mark's my pal, and I'm a meddlesome fellow, as you perhaps remarked when I pulled you from the bank. If you were annoyed, I'm sorry, although I don't know if annoyed is quite the proper word. Classical English is not my medium."

Flora looked up, rather sharply. He was keener than she had thought.

"It is not at all important. Suppose you go ahead?"

"Very well. I'd like to give Mark a boost, and I feel I ought to account for my haunting the Millhouse. When I think about it, I have rather haunted you."

"I hope you do not imagine we were bored," said Flora politely. "For one thing, you are a fresh type."

"If you were bored, I would not know," Bob rejoined with a twinkle. "At home, I wouldn't be left to guess, because when you make a Canadian tired he firmly fires you out. After all, the plan has some advantages. But, since you don't yet see where I'm steering you, Mark is your pal."

"That is so. Then, he is Madge's lover, and she is the best friend I've got."

Bob thrilled. Flora's smile was careless, but he rather thought she wanted him to know Mark was not her lover.

"Now we can go ahead," he resumed. "Mark cannot finance his garage plan, but I'm not allowed to help. He doubts if he can get a post in the Old Country and he hates to loaf. Well, since we are his pals, we are entitled to think for him. In a way, the drawback is, we must think for Miss Forsyth, because although I could get Mark a post in Canada, she might not approve."

"You are a very good sort," said Flora, in a quiet voice.

"To some extent, I'm selfish. So long as we are both resolved to give Mark a fighting chance, I am entitled to consult with my confederate. I admit the Millhouse is a charming spot."

Flora looked up. Bob's eyes twinkled, but he gave her a level glance, and she knew he did not altogether joke.

"But you cannot stop. The lumber company, no doubt, needs its salesman."

"There's the trouble," Bob agreed. "I hate to think about it. However, when the old man wants me he must get busy at the cable. In the meantime, I've got a week or two, and I hope you'll help me forget——"

Big drops splashed the flagged path, and Flora shivered. The sun was gone, the birch-branches tossed, and sleet blew down the dale. Then she saw Madge signaled at the door and she touched Bob.

"Tea waits," said Madge. "I expected you sooner. The wind is cold."

"We were talking about Mark," said Flora. "Mr. Wellwin thinks you might weigh his proposition."

Madge gave Bob a keen glance, and he smiled.

"I am studying Old Country English, and Miss Scot knows some Canadian. We, so to speak, pool our talents——But I have a proposition."

"You are kind. After tea we will talk about it," Madge replied.

Bob waited and when the plates were carried off they went to the big fireplace, Bob opposite Madge across the rug, and Flora between them. Hail beat the windows, one heard the wind in the birches, and the room got dark, but the big fire snapped cheerfully and the leaping reflections flickered on shining oak.

"Miss Scot is umpire, although I hope we are not antagonists," said Bob. "Well, Mark reckoned if he did not start the garage, he might emigrate."

"I am afraid he must," said Madge.

Bob liked her frankness. One could talk to Madge Forsyth as one talked to a man. Yet she was fastidious and cultivated, and the house she ruled was beautiful, although Bob doubted if the doctor earned as much as a Canadian locomotive engineer. The big, quiet dalesfolk were a queer lot, but they had the sort of qualities that in Canada commanded some reward.

"Very well. Mark talked about Australia, but if you fix on a spot half-way round the world, you must stop where you locate——"

Madge Forsyth's look got thoughtful, but that was all. She had weighed the long separation from her lover, and, for his sake, was willing to let him go. When he sent for her, Bob imagined she would cheerfully join him, although to leave all she knew might hurt.

"Quebec is not quite three thousand miles off and you can get there in six days," he resumed. "My proposition is, Mark locates in Canada, because, if you approve, I believe I might help him go ahead. The drawback is, in the Dominion, one does not get rich quick. One must sweat and hustle for all one wants."

"That is so in Cumberland," Madge remarked with a smile. "As a rule, when one has hustled one's reward is small."

"When Flora and I talked about it by the pool I tried to put her wise," said Bob, and turned to Flora. "When I told you I'd stacked boards and so forth I did not talk at large——"

He wondered whether Miss Forsyth's smile implied that she had noted he called her cousin Flora. The queer thing was, he dared not have done so by the pool; but by the fireplace in the homelike room she was somehow domestic and altogether friendly. Bob admitted his explanations did not advance fast. In the Old Country speed was not important, and he was satisfied to discourse by the Millhouse fire for as long as he was allowed.

"You stated you had an object," Flora remarked. "Perhaps you are modest, but the object is not yet very obvious."

"I'm getting there," Bob rejoined, and turned to Madge. "My father is the Duquesne Company's president, but when I joined him I started at the mill and went to the camps in the woods. There's my plan for Mark. Our engineers' pay is pretty good, but as long as they stop with us they are engine-tenders and that's all. Although the company has a job for a useful man, the man we want must know his job from the beginning. Well, the start is hard, and before Mark made much progress some time might go. For example, I stacked boards in summer and was two winters in the woods. I camped and ate with roughneck choppers, and my pay was a workman's pay. Now I reckon most any lumber house in Canada would give me a post."

Madge thought it possible. Wellwin had graduated at a Canadian University. One sensed his keen intelligence and driving-force. Then, although he was rather lightly built, labor with the axe had hardened his muscles and given him the woodsman's balance. His body, brain, and nerve were firmly disciplined and sound. Yet Madge thought all he did, Mark, when he was trained, could do.

"I understand you have not yet told Mark about your plan," she said.

"I have not," said Bob, and gave her an apologetic glance. "I reckon Mark's my sort and I might perhaps work on him and carry him away; but, unless you are willing, I mustn't experiment. You see, while I begin to know Mark's qualities, something depends on his luck, and I, so to speak, can't fix a date for his making good."

"In fact, you feel you ought to think for me? It might be long before Mark could give me the home you imagine I ought to have! And, of course, in the meantime, I must let him go."

"Yes; I did argue like that. Sometimes perhaps I am not remarkably bright."

"You are very kind," said Madge. "I believe you considered another plan——"

The blood came to Wellwin's skin, but Madge gave him a smile and went on:

"The plan would not work; Flora's advice was good, but you and she are useful friends. However, I am not as fastidious as you think and at the Millhouse we use economy. If Mark believes he can mend his fortunes in Canada, I am willing for him to try."

"I like your pluck," said Bob. "I believe he has a fighting chance he might not get in the Old Country."

"Then he must seize the chance," said Madge. "Where you can help I know you will help, and if Mark's advance is slower than he thinks, we will not make you accountable."

She began to talk about something else, but Bob was satisfied. Miss Forsyth was his friend; moreover she was Flora's cousin and confidante. He imagined the dalesfolk did not forget.

After some time Forsyth arrived. The doctor was tall, his hair was touched by white, and his type was the thin-faced Cumbrian type. Bob got up.

"You will be ready for supper, sir, and I must shove off."

"I am home sooner than my household expected and must wait for my food," Forsyth replied. "Since the girls will be occupied, you might stop with me."

He gave Bob a cigarette, filled his pipe, and stretched his legs to the fire.

"The wind is keen and I have finished a sixteen-mile ride on a borrowed horse across moors and bogs where a car cannot go. The patients I visit are a queer, primitive lot. Sometime when I can use my little car, to go round with me might interest you. Will you be at the inn for long?"

"I mean to stop as long as I'm allowed," said Bob. "By and by the old man will cable for me, but I'm coming across another time."

Forsyth imagined the young fellow felt he ought to be frank, and he admitted he liked his honesty.

"I suppose the lumber house transacts some business at Glasgow? Well, if you take another holiday on the Border, you must look us up. In our quiet dales young folks are not numerous. The ambitious start for the towns, and we who are left soon get old-fashioned. To make contact with the modern world is bracing, and one imagines North American youth is very much up-to-date."

"Perhaps I'm not a very good example, sir. Anyhow, I was happy in the frozen woods, and the old-time calm at the Millhouse is altogether delightful."

"When you wish to enjoy it, it is yours," said Forsyth with a smile. "I myself like calm, but you see my hair is white, and I know the golden days are gone. Yours are yet in front, and youth is keen to push ahead. You do not advance by the roads we know, but one admits you get somewhere fast."

"One does not know where," said Bob. "I expect it's important, but one must be satisfied to shove along hopefully. Anyhow, in all that's fundamental, I reckon the old rules stand."

"Then, you do not believe a young man's main business is to express himself?"

Bob smiled. "In Canada, his main occupation is to supply himself with food and clothes. We have, of course, psycho-analysts and complex-hunters; but if you live by industry you can't be independent. When you go with the crowd, you must think for the crowd, and where you take the other fellow's dollars you must give him the goods for which he pays. There is no use in stating he ought to want another sort, and in Canada the inferiority-complex is pretty scarce. He gets annoyed and inquires why you reckon he knows less than you."

Plates rattled in the passage and Bob got on his feet.

"I am not much of a philosopher and you want your food. Any time you invite me to join your excursions I'll be glad to do so, sir."

He went off, and when Flora carried in supper Forsyth laughed.

"I like Mark's friend. Physically, he's a fine example of the transplanted English type, and on the whole, I think his views about life and conduct as sound as his well-trained body."