A Damaged Reputation Part 41

Saxton evidently lost his temper. "Well," he said, "I guess I'm going to do it, you slinking skunk. If it can't be fixed any other way, I'll strike you for shooting Brooke."

Wilkins laughed. "Any more of you coming along? It's a kind of pity you didn't get here a little earlier."

They knew what he meant in another moment, when the sound of a horse ridden hard through slushy snow rose from the shadows of the pines.

Wilkins made a little ironical gesture.

"I guess you'll never get rich claim-jumping, boys," he said.

Then Saxton's voice rose again. "The game's not finished. We'll play you for it yet," he said. "Where's that horse? Get your stakes in."

He vanished in another minute, but his followers remained, and there was for a time a very lively scuffle about the stakes Brooke had already hammered in. They were torn up, and replaced several times before the affray was over, and then two men, who furnished a very vague account of the fas.h.i.+on in which they had received their injuries, were with difficulty conveyed to the Vancouver hospital. In spite of a popular illusion, pistols are not in general use in that country, but it is not insuperably difficult to disable an opponent effectively with an axe or shovel.

In the meanwhile, three men, who realized that, under the circ.u.mstances, a good deal would depend upon who was first to reach it, were riding hard by different ways towards the recorder's office, and Brooke, having no great confidence in the horse Wilkins had supplied him with, had taken what was at once the worst and shortest route. That is not a nice country to ride through in daylight, even when there is no snow upon the ground, and there were times when he held his breath as the horse plunged down the side of a gulley with the half-melted snow and gravel sliding away beneath its hoofs. They also smashed and floundered through withered fern and crackling thickets of sal-sal and salmon berry, and during one perilous hour Brooke dragged the beast by the bridle up slopes of wet and slippery rock, from which the winds had swept the snow away.

Still, it was long since he had felt in the same high spirits, and when they reached more even ground the rush through the cold night air brought him a curious elation. He felt he was, at least doing what might count in his favor against the past, and, apart from that, there was satisfaction to be derived from the reckless ride itself. He had, however, only a blurred recollection of most of it, flitting forest, peaks that glittered coldly, the glint of moonlight on still frozen lakes, and the frequent splas.h.i.+ngs through icy fords, until, when the stars had faded, and the firs rose black and hard against the dawn, they reeled down to the bank of a larger river, from which the white mists were streaming. It swirled by thick with floating ice, and the horse strenuously objected to enter the water at all. Twice it reared at the stabbing of the spurs, and then bounded with arching back, but Brooke was used to that trick, and contrived to keep his saddle until he and the beast slid down the bank together, and there was a splash and flounder as they reached the water.

It was most of it freshly-melted ice, and when he slipped from the saddle, which he promptly found it necessary to do, the cold took his breath away, and he clung by the stirrup leather, gasping and half-dazed, while the beast proceeded unguided for a minute or two.

Then, as they swung round in a white eddy, his perceptions came back to him, and he realized that there was no longer any need for swimming, when he drove against a boulder, whose head just showed above the swirling foam. He got on his feet somehow, and was never quite sure whether he led the beast through the rest of the pa.s.sage or held on by the bridle, but at last they staggered up the opposite bank, where a man he could not see very well in the dim light sat looking down on him from the saddle. Brooke moved a pace nearer, and then recognized him as the one who had shot him at Devine's ranch.

"Saxton has taken the high trail and he'll cross by the bridge, but I guess we're quite a while ahead of him," he said. "Now, do you know any reason why we shouldn't pool the thing?"

Brooke stared at him, divided between indignation and appreciation of his a.s.surance.

"Yes," he said, drily, "several, and one of them is quite sufficient by itself."

"Figure it out," said the other. "I tell you Saxton can't make our time over the high trail, though it's a better road. Now that one of us will get there first is a sure thing, but it's quite as certain it can't be both, and I'd be content with half of what you bluff out of Devine.

That's reasonable."

Brooke felt his face grow a trifle hot, though he recognized that it was not astonis.h.i.+ng the man should credit him with the purpose he had certainly been impelled by at their last meeting.

"I can't make a deal with you on any terms," he said. "Ride on, or pull your horse out of the trail."

"I guess that wouldn't suit me," said the other man, and when Brooke had his foot in the stirrup, suddenly swung up his hand.

Then there was a flash and a detonation, and the horse plunged. The flash was repeated, and while Brooke strove to clear his foot of the stirrup, the beast staggered and fell back on him. It, however, rolled and struggled, and, for his foot was free now, he contrived to drag himself away.

When he was next sensible of anything, he could hear a very faint thud of hoofs far up the climbing trail, and, after lying still for several minutes, ventured to move circ.u.mspectly. He felt very sore, but all his limbs appeared to be in their usual places, and, rising shakily, he found, somewhat to his astonishment, that he could walk. The horse was evidently dead, but there was, he remembered, a ranch not very far away, and a certain probability of the other man still breaking one of his own limbs or his horse's legs, for the trail was rather worse than trails usually are in that country. Brooke accordingly decided to hobble on to the ranch, and somehow accomplished it, though the man who opened the door to him looked very dubious when he asked him for a horse.

"The only beast I've got isn't worth much, but you don't look up to taking him in over the lake trail," he said.

He, however, parted with the horse, and hove Brooke into the saddle, while the latter groaned as he rode away. One arm and one leg were stiff and aching, and at every jolt his back hurt him excruciatingly, but a few hours later he rode, spattered with mire and slushy snow, into a little wooden town, and had afterwards a fancy that somebody offered to lift him down. He was not sure how he got out of the saddle, but a man he recognized took the horse, and he proceeded, limping stiffly, with his wet clothes sticking to his skin, to the Crown mining office. The recorder, who appeared to be a young Englishman, looked hard at him when he came in, and then pointed to a chair.

"You may as well sit down. If my surmises are correct, there is no great need for haste," he said.

Brooke's face, which was a trifle grey, grew suddenly set.

"Some one else has already recorded a new claim on the Canopus?" he said.

"Yes," said the recorder. "In fact, two of them, and the last man was good enough to inform me that there was another of you coming along."

"Then you can't give a record?"

"No," said the other man, with a little smile. "I'm not sure that any of you will get one in the meanwhile; that is, not until we have obtained a few particulars from Mr. Devine."

"I have come on behalf of him."

"That," said the recorder, "is, under the circ.u.mstances, no great recommendation. In fact, there are several points your employer will be asked to clear up before we go any further with the matter."

Brooke, who asked no more questions, contrived to make his way to the hotel, and flung himself down to rest, when he had ascertained when the Pacific express came in. Important as it was that he should see Devine, he was, however, very uncertain whether he would be able to get up again.

XXVII.

THE LAST ROUND.

The whistle screamed hoa.r.s.ely as the long train swung out from the shadow of the pines, and Brooke raised himself stiffly in his seat in a big, dusty car. A sawmill veiled in smoke and steam swept by, and, while the roar of wheels sank to a lower pitch, he caught the gleam of the blue inlet Vancouver City is built above ahead. Then, as the cl.u.s.tering roofs, which seamed the hillside ridge on ridge with a maze of poles and wires cutting against the background of stately pines grew plainer, he straightened his back with an effort. It was aching distressfully, and he felt dizzy as well as stiff, while he commenced to wonder whether his strength would hold out until he had seen Devine and finished his business in the city.

Then the cars lurched a little, there was a doleful tolling of a bell, and when the long, dusty train rolled slowly into the depot he dropped shakily from a vestibule platform. The rough planking did not seem quite steady, and he struck his feet against the metals when he crossed the track, but he managed to reach Devine's office, and found that he was out. He would, however, be back in another hour, his clerk said, and it occurred to Brooke that he could, in the meanwhile, consult a doctor.

The latter asked him a few questions, and then sat looking at him thoughtfully for a moment or two.

"It's not quite clear to me how the horse came to fall on you. You were dismounted at the time?" he said. "Still, after all, that's not quite the question."

Brooke smiled a little. "No," he said. "I scarcely think it is."

"Well," said the doctor, drily, "whichever way you managed it, the snow was either very soft or something else took the weight of the beast off you, but I don't think you need worry greatly about that fall. Lie down for a day or two, and rub some of the stuff I give you on the bruises.

Now, suppose you tell me what you've been doing for the last few months."

Brooke did so concisely, and the doctor nodded. "Pretty much as I figured," he said. "You want to stop it right away. Go down the Sound on a steamboat, or across to Victoria for two or three weeks, and do nothing."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question."

The doctor made a little gesture. "Then, if you go on taking it out of yourself, there'll be trouble, especially if you worry. Go slow, and eat and sleep all you can for a month, anyway."

Brooke thanked him, and went back to Devine's office thoughtfully. He felt that the advice was good, though there were difficulties in the way of his acting upon it. He had already realized that the strain of the last few months, the insufficient food, and feverish work, were telling upon him, but he had made up his mind to hold out until the work at the Dayspring was in full swing and the value of the ore lead had been made clear beyond all doubt. Then there would be time to rest and consider the position.

Devine was in when he reached the office, and looked hard at him, but he said very little while Brooke told his story. Nor did he appear by any means astonished or concerned.

"Well," he said, reflectively, "it's quite likely that we'll have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Saxton to-morrow. He'll hang off until then, and when he comes I'll be ready to talk to him. In the meanwhile, you're coming home with me."

Brooke hoped that he did not show the embarra.s.sment he certainly felt, for, much as he longed to see her, it was, after their last meeting, difficult to believe that Barbara would appreciate his company, and he scarcely felt in a mood for another taste of her displeasure.

"I had decided on going out on the Atlantic express this evening," he said. "There is a good deal to do at the Dayspring, and I could scarcely expect Mrs. Devine to be troubled with me. Besides, you see, I came right away----"

He glanced significantly at his clothes, but Devine, who rose, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You're coming along," he said. "I may want you to-morrow."