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MRS. MARVIN LOOKS BACK
All was quiet at the Marvin ranch-house by the British Columbian lake, and across the shining water a tranquil sunset glimmered on the snow. The head of the lake was narrow, and for a space along the other shore, the dark pines’ reflections trembled on the glassy surface. The lake, however, was not at rest. Slow ripples splashed the gravel, and where a rock rose from the depths wrinkling lines curved about the stone. One sensed dynamic force, and behind the woods a river throbbed with a measured beat.
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Five minutes afterwards, Marvin, breathless and trembling, reached the camp. Breakers crashed in the rapid, broken trees struck the rocks, and thirty pounds of camp supplies were strapped to Aylward’s back. Marvin’s skin was wet by sweat and his big hands shook. Had he firmly seized his proper load, had he but stopped for a moment at the bottom of the slab, Tom might have made the camp. Moreover, Marvin knew he had not got rattled; he had consciously indulged his moodiness. All he had thought was, Tom had refused to go when he might and must take his punishment.
In the morning the river fell and for two horrible days Marvin searched the rocks and pools. He knew there was no use in searching, but until he had done so he dared not start. Then at daybreak he threw the rifle on his shoulder and took the mountain trail. He hated his load; to some extent it accounted for the tragedy at the slab, but he had two or three cartridges of the proper size and he might find a deer. The nearest settlement was some distance off, and all his food was a hard bannock.
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