The Hound From The North Part 18

"Bare duty, indeed!" Prudence's two brown eyes flashed round on him in an instant. "You are the sort of man who should speak of duty, Hervey.

You just ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your mother's debt of duty towards you was fulfilled on the day you left the farm years ago. She provided you with liberal capital to start you in life. Now you have come back, and she welcomes you with open arms--we both do--glad that you should be with us again. And what return have you made to her for her goodness? I'll tell you; you have brought her nothing but days of unhappiness with your lazy, grumbling ways. If you are going to continue like this, for goodness' sake go away again. She has enough on her shoulders without being worried by you."

The man looked for a moment as though he were going to give expression to some very nasty talk. Prudence had returned to her pans and so lost the evil glance of his expressive eyes. Then his look changed to a mocking smile, and when he spoke his words were decidedly conciliating.

"I'm afraid I've done something to offend you, Prue. But you shouldn't use hard words like that I know I'm not much of a farmer, and I am always a bit irritable when I am not my own master. But don't let's quarrel. I wanted to talk to you about George Iredale. He seems a jolly decent fellow--much too good to be kicking his heels about in such a district as Owl Hoot. He's extremely wealthy, isn't he?"

The girl felt angry still, but Hervey's tone slightly mollified her.

She answered shortly enough, and the skimming of the milk was not done with the adeptness which she usually displayed.

"Rich? Yes, he's one of the richest men in Manitoba. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. He seems very interested in--us. He's always over here. And he never by any chance loses an opportunity of ingratiating himself with mother. I wonder what his object is?"

Prudence bent over her work to hide the tell-tale flush which had spread over her face, and the skimming was once more done with the utmost care.

"Mother is very fond of Mr. Iredale," she replied slowly. "He is a good man, and a good friend. We, as you know, are his nearest neighbours. Are you going over there to-day?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Oh--it doesn't matter--I was going to ask you to ride over to Lakeville to ask Alice Gordon to come here during the harvesting.

She's staying with the Covills. But it doesn't matter in the least, I can send one of the boys."

"Yes, better send one of the boys. I'm going over to Lonely Ranch. I shall cultivate Iredale; he's the only man I care about round here."

Prudence had nearly completed her operations and was salting the cream in the pail.

"Say, sis, did it ever strike you that Iredale's dead sweet on you?"

Hervey went on coa.r.s.ely.

The girl suddenly turned and looked her brother squarely in the face.

Her brow was again flushed, but now with anger.

"You'll lose the best of your shooting if you don't hurry. You've got ten miles to ride. And--I am going to lock up."

Her brother didn't offer to move.

"Why do you do all this work?" he went on calmly. "Why don't you send all the milk to the Government creamery? It'll save labour, and you get market price for the produce."

"Because Government creameries are for those who can't afford to send their stuff to market, or make their cheese on their farms."

"Ah, that's the worst of being large farmers, it entails so much work.

By Jove! Iredale doesn't work like we 'moss-backs' have to, and he's made a fortune. I guess if there were a Mrs. George Iredale she'd have a bully time. No cheese- or b.u.t.ter-making, eh, sis?" And, with a grin, Hervey turned on his heel, and, pa.s.sing up the steps, walked away towards the barn.

Prudence waited until her brother had disappeared within the stables; then she locked up. As she turned from the door she heard her mother's voice calling.

"Girl--girl, where are you?"

"Here I am, mother dear, at the creamery."

Mrs. Malling trundled round the corner of the house.

"Prudence, there's young Peter Furrer come over, and I haven't time to stop and gossip with him. Like as not he don't want to talk to a body like me, anyway. Just drop that skirt o' yours, girl, and go and see him. A nice time o' day to come a-courtin'. He'll be a-follerin' you to the grain fields when we're harvesting."

Prudence smiled.

"Never mind, mother. He's come at an opportune moment. I want a messenger to go over to Lakeville. He'll do. I'm sending word to Alice Gordon. I want her to come here for the harvesting. Alice must get very sick of living at Ainsley, in spite of the fact of her beau living there. I've a good mind to tell her to bring him out here.

Shan't be long, dear; I'll join you directly. Where are you? In the wash-house?"

The girl ran off, letting her skirt fall as she went The mother pa.s.sed on to the wash-house, muttering to herself as she went.

"La, if he were only like her. But there, the Lord ordains, and them as brings their offspring into the world must abide the racket. But it goes hard with a man about the house who idles. Mussy-a-me, he ain't like his poor father. And I'm not goin' to give him no extra dollars to fling around in Winnipeg. He's too fond of loose company."

The old lady continued to mutter audibly until she reached the wash-house door, where she disappeared just as the object of her thoughts led his horse out of the barn, jumped on its back, and rode away.

It was noon when Hervey reached Owl Hoot. He had been there several times lately, sometimes at George Iredale's invitation, but generally at his own. He had his own particular reasons for cultivating the owner of Lonely Ranch, and those reasons he kept carefully to himself.

This unworthy son had only been at Loon d.y.k.e Farm for little more than four months, and during that brief period he had plainly shown what manner of man he was.

Even the doting affection of his mother had not blinded that simple soul to his shortcomings. Each month since his coming he had steadily overdrawn his allowance to no inconsiderable extent. His frequent visits to Winnipeg had always ended in his return home with pockets empty, and an acc.u.mulation of debts, of which he said nothing, left behind him. Then came the inevitable request for money, generally backed up by some plausible excuse, and Hephzibah's cheque-book was always forthcoming on these occasions. But though, hitherto, she had not failed him, he saw by her manner that the time was not far distant when her sweet old face would become curiously set, and the comely mouth would shut tight, and the cheque-book would remain locked in her wardrobe, while he poured his flimsy excuses on stone-deaf ears.

He understood his mother. She would do much, perhaps far too much for her children, but she would not allow herself to be preyed upon; she was too keen a business woman for that. Besides, his acc.u.mulation of debts was now so great that all he was able to bleed her for would be but a drop in the ocean. In Winnipeg he posed as the owner of Loon d.y.k.e Farm, and as such his credit was extensive. But now there were clamourings for settlements, and Hervey knew that gaming debts and hotel bills must be met in due course. Tradesmen can wait, they have redress from owners of property, but the others have no such means of repaying themselves, therefore they must be paid if he wished to remain in the district. Now he meant to raise what he required from Iredale. He had recognized the fact that Iredale was in love with Prudence, nor was he slow to appreciate the possibilities which this matter suggested as a money-raising means. Yes, Hervey intended that Iredale should pay for the privilege of enjoying his sister's society.

Money he must have, and that at once.

It was a wild, desolate region which he rode through on his way to Lonely Ranch. No one, finding themselves suddenly dropped into the midst of those wood-covered crags and clean-cut ravines, the boulder-strewn, gra.s.sless land, would have dreamed that they were within half-a-dozen miles of the fertile prairie-lands of Canada. It was like a slum hidden away in the heart of a fas.h.i.+onable city. The country round the mysterious Lake of the Woods is something utterly apart from the rest of the Canadian world, and partakes much of the nature of the Badlands of Dakota. It is tucked away in the extreme south-eastern corner of Manitoba, and the international boundary runs right through the heart of it.

Lonely Ranch was situated in an abrupt hollow, and was entirely lost to view in a mammoth growth of pinewoods. Years ago a settlement had existed in this region, but what the nature of that settlement it was now impossible to tell. Local tradition held that, at some far-distant period, the place had been occupied by a camp of half-breed "bad-men" who worked their evil trade upon the south side of the American border, and sought security in the shelter of this perfect hiding-place. Be that as it may, it was now the abode of George Iredale, rancher. He had built for himself a splendid house of hewn logs, and his outbuildings--many of them the restored houses of the early settlers--and corrals formed a ranch of very large dimensions.

And it was all hidden away in black woods which defied the keenest observation of the pa.s.ser-by. And the hollow was approached by a circuitous road which entered the cutting at its northern end. Any other mode of ingress was impossible for any beast of burden.

As Hervey entered the valley and became lost to view in the sombre woods, he was greeted by the woeful cry of a screech-owl. So sudden and unexpected was the ear-piercing cry that both horse and rider started. The horse threw up its head and snorted, and stood for an instant trembling with apprehension. Hervey looked about him keenly.

He could see nothing but the crowd of leafless tree-trunks, and a bed of dry pine-cones which covered the surrounding earth. The owl was probably hidden in the hollow of some dead tree, for there were many about. He pressed his horse forward. The animal moved cautiously, dancing along in its nervous apprehension.

Presently another cry split the air. Again some owl had protested at his intrusion.

So suddenly did the cry come that Hervey felt a slight superst.i.tious quiver pa.s.s down his back, but he rode on. He had nearly a mile of the valley to travel before he came to the house, and, during the journey, seven times came the hideous screech of the owls. Now he began to understand why this place was called "Owl Hoot."

It was with a feeling of relief that he at length saw the ranch through the trees, and he greeted Iredale, who was standing in his doorway when he dismounted, with genuine pleasure.

"Well," he said, after shaking his host by the hand, "another mile of this d----d valley and I should have turned tail and fled back to the open. Why, you must have a regular colony of owls in the place. Man, I never heard such weird cries in my life. How is it that I haven't heard them before when I came here?"

Iredale took his visitor's horse. He was dressed in moleskin.

Underneath his loose, dun-coloured vest he wore a soft s.h.i.+rt, and in place of a linen collar he had a red bandana tied about his neck. His headgear was a Stetson hat. In this garb he looked much more burly and powerful than in the tweeds he usually wore when visiting at the farm.

His strong, patient face was lit by a quiet smile. He was a man whose eyes, and the expression of his features, never betrayed his thoughts.

A keen observer would have noticed this at once, but to such people as he encountered he merely appeared a kindly man who was not much given to talking.

"Colony of owls, eh?" he said, leading the horse in the direction of the barn. "Those cries you have heard are what this cheerful place takes its name from. It only needs one cry to set the whole valley ringing with them. Had not the first creature seen you approach you might have reached your destination without hearing one disturbing sound. As a rule, in the daytime, they are not heard, but at night no one can enter these woods without the echoes being aroused. When they begin to shriek there is no sleep for any one in my house."

"So I should say. Well, never mind them now, we have other matters on hand. What coverts are we going to shoot over first?"