Hawtrey's Deputy Part 28

"Well," he said, "I still hold by my first notion. They were blown ash.o.r.e on the beach we'd just left, and made prisoners. Then a supply schooner or perhaps a steamer came along, and they sent them off in her to be handed over to the authorities. The vessel put in somewhere.

We'll say she was lying in an inlet with a boat astern, and somehow they cut that boat loose in the dark, and got away in her."

He broke off for a moment, and then looked at his companion significantly.

"You can find quite a few points where that idea seems to fail," he added. "They were in Kamtchatka, but I'm beginning to feel that we shall never know any more than that."

Wyllard made a little weary gesture of concurrence, but before he closed them Dampier saw no sign that he meant to abandon his project in his eyes. In another few minutes he seemed to sink into sleep, and Dampier, who went up on deck, paced to and fro awhile before he stopped by the wheel and turned to the helmsman.

"You can let her come up a couple of points. We may as well make a little southing while we can," he said.

Charly, who was steering, looked up with suggestive eagerness. "Then he's not going for the Aleutians?"

"No," said Dampier drily. "I was kind of afraid of that, but I choked him off. Anyway, this year won't see us back in Vancouver." He paused, with a little jarring laugh. "We're going to stay up here until we find out where those men left their bones. The man who has this thing in hand isn't the kind that lets up."

Charly made no answer, but his face hardened as he put his helm down a spoke or two.

Next day the wind fell lighter, but for a week it still held westerly, and after that it blew moderately fresh from the south. Crippled as she was, the _Selache_ would lie a point or two south of east when they had set an old cut down fore-staysail on what was left of her mainmast, and the hearts of her crew grew a little lighter as she crawled on across the Pacific. They had no wish to be blown back to the frozen North. The days were, however, growing shorter rapidly, and the sun hung low in the southern sky when at length she crept into one of the many inlets that indent the coast of Southern Alaska. There was just wind enough to carry her in round a long, foam-lapped point, and soon afterwards they let the anchor go in four fathoms in a sheltered arm, with a river mouth not far away. There was no sign of life anywhere about it, and the ragged cedars that crept close down to the beach stood out in sombre spires against the gleaming snow.

The cold was not particularly severe when she crept in, but when Dampier went ash.o.r.e next morning to pick a log that they could hew a mast out of the temperature suddenly fell, and that night the drift ice from the river mouth closed in on them. When the late daylight broke she was frozen fast, and they knew it would be several months before she moved again. It was then before the gold rush, and in winter Alaska was practically cut off from all communication with the south.

No man would have attempted to traverse the tremendous snow-wrapped desolation of almost impa.s.sable hills and trackless forests that lay between them and the nearest of the commercial factories on the north, or the canneries on the other hand. Besides, the canneries were shut up in winter time. They were prisoners, and could only wait with what patience they could muster until the thaw set them free again.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A DELICATE ERRAND.

There was sharp frost outside, and the prairie was white with a thin sprinkle of snow, when a little party sat down to supper in the Hastings homestead one Sat.u.r.day evening. Hastings sat at the head of the table, his wife at the foot with her little daughters, Agatha, Sproatly, and Winifred between them. The latter two had just driven over from the railroad settlement, as they did now and then, which explained why the meal, which is usually served early in the evening, had been delayed an hour or so. The two hired men, whom Mrs. Hastings had not kept waiting, had gone out to some task in the barn or stables.

By and bye Sproatly took a bundle of papers out of his pocket and laid them on the table. There had been a remarkable change in his appearance of late, for he now wore store clothes, and the skin coat he had taken off when he came in was, as his hostess had noticed, a new one. It occurred to her that there was a certain significance in this, though Sproatly had changed his occupation some little time ago, and now drove about the prairie on behalf of certain makers of agricultural implements.

"I called for your mail and Gregory's before we left," he said. "I had to go round to see him, which is partly what made us so late, though Winifred couldn't get away as soon as she expected. They've floods of wheat coming in to the elevators, and I understand that the milling people can't take another bushel in."

Mrs. Hastings glanced at Agatha, who understood what she meant, for Sproatly had hitherto spoken of Winifred circ.u.mspectly as Miss Rawlinson. Hastings, however, took the papers which Agatha handed him, and laid them aside.

"We'll let them wait until supper's over. I don't expect any news that's particularly good," he said. "The bottom's apparently dropping out of the wheat market."

"Hamilton can't get cars enough, and we'll have to shut down in another day or two unless they turn up," said Winifred. "It's much the same all along the line. The Winnipeg traffic people wired us they haven't an empty car in the yards. Why do you rush the grain in that way?

It's bound to break the market."

Hastings smiled rather drily. "Well," he said, "a good many of us have bills to meet. For another thing, they've had a heavy crop in Manitoba, Dakota, and Minnesota, and I suppose some folks have an idea they'll get in first before the other people swamp the Eastern markets.

I think they're foolish. It's a temporary scare. Prices will stiffen by and bye."

"That's what Hamilton says, but I suppose the thing is natural. Men are very like sheep, aren't they?"

Hastings laughed. "Well," he admitted, "we are, in some respects.

When prices break a little we generally rush to sell. One or two of my neighbours are, however, holding on, and it's hardly likely that very much of my wheat will be flung on to a falling market."

"We have been getting a good deal from the Range."

There was displeasure in Hastings's face. "Gregory's selling largely on Harry's account?"

"They've been hauling wheat in to us for the last few weeks," said Winifred.

Hastings, as Agatha noticed, glanced at his wife significantly, but she interposed and forbade any further conversation of the kind until supper was over, while when the table had been cleared Hastings opened his papers. The rest sat expectantly silent, while he turned them over one after another.

"No," he said, "there's no news of Harry, and I'm afraid it's scarcely possible that we'll hear anything of him this winter."

Agatha was conscious that Mrs. Hastings's eyes were upon her, and she sat very still, though her heart was beating a little faster than usual. Hastings, however, went on again.

"The _Colonist_ has a line or two about a barque from Alaska, which put into Victoria short of stores," he said. "She was sent up to an A.C.C.

factory, and had to clear out before she was ready. The ice, it seems, was closing in unusually early. A steam whaler at Portland reports the same thing, and from the news brought by a steamer from j.a.pan all communication with North-Eastern Asia is already cut off."

None of the others said anything for a moment or two, and Agatha, leaning back in her chair, glanced round the room. There was not much furniture in it, but, though this was unusual on the prairie, door and double cas.e.m.e.nts were guarded by heavy hangings. The big bra.s.s lamp overhead shed down a cheerful light, the birch billets in the stove snapped and crackled noisily, and its pipe, which was far too hot to touch, diffused a drowsy heat. One could lounge beside it contentedly, knowing that the stinging frost was drying the snow to dusty powder outside. That heightened the contrast, for Agatha pictured the little schooner bound fast in the Northern ice, and then two or three travel-worn men crouching in a tiny tent buffeted by an Arctic gale.

She could see the poles bend, and the tricings strain.

After that, with a sudden transition, her thoughts went back to the early morning when Wyllard had driven away, and every detail of the scene rose up clearly in her mind. She saw him and the stolid Dampier sitting in the waggon, with nothing in their manner to suggest that they were setting out upon a very perilous venture, and she felt his hand close tight upon her fingers, as it had done just before the waggon jolted away from the homestead. She could once more see it growing smaller and smaller on the white prairie, until it dipped behind the crest of a low rise, and the sinking beat of hoofs died away. Then, at least, she had realised that he had started on the first stage of a journey which might lead him through the ice-bound gates of the North to the rest that awaits the souls of the sailormen.

She could not, however, imagine him shrinking. Gripping helm, or hauling in the sled traces, he would gaze with quiet eyes steadfastly ahead, even if they saw only the pa.s.sage from this world to the next.

Once more, as it had done that morning, a curious thrill ran through her, and there was pride as well as regret in it. Then she became conscious that Hastings was speaking.

"What took you round by the Range, Jim?" he asked.

"Collecting," said Sproatly. "I sold Gregory a couple of binders earlier in the season, but, as it happened, I couldn't get a dollar out of him." He laughed. "Of course, if it had been anybody else I'd have stayed until he handed over, but I couldn't press Gregory too hard after quartering myself upon him as I did last winter, though I'm rather afraid my employers wouldn't appreciate that kind of delicacy."

Mrs. Hastings looked thoughtful. "Gregory should have been able to pay. He thrashed out a moderately good crop."

"About two-thirds of what it should have been, and I've reason for believing that he has been putting up a mortgage. Interest's heavy.

There's another matter. I wonder if you've heard that he's getting rid of two of Harry's hands? I mean Pat and Tom Moran."

"You're sure of that?" Hastings asked somewhat sharply.

"Tom told me."

Mrs. Hastings leaned forward suddenly in her chair. "Then," she said, "I'm going to drive across on Monday, and have a few words with Gregory. Did Moran tell you that Harry had decided to keep the two of them on throughout the year?"

"He wasn't very explicit, but he seemed to feel he had a grievance against Gregory. Of course, in a way, you can't blame Gregory. He's in charge, and it isn't in him to carry out Harry's policy. This fall in wheat is getting on his nerves, and in any case he'd probably have held his hand and cut down the crop next year."

"I do blame him," and Mrs. Hastings turned to Agatha. "You will understand that in a general way there's not much that can be done when the snow's upon the ground, and as one result of it the hired man prefers to engage himself for the year. To secure himself from being turned adrift when harvest's over he will frequently make a concession in wages. Now I know Harry intended to keep those two men on, and Tom Moran, who has a little half-cleared ranch back somewhere in the bush of Ontario, came out here tempted by higher wages. I understand he had to raise a few dollars or give the place up, and he left his wife behind. A good many of the little men can't live upon their holdings all the while. Well, I'm going over on Monday to tell Gregory he has got to keep them, and you're coming with me."

Agatha said nothing. In the first place, she knew that if Mrs.

Hastings had made her mind up she would gain nothing by objecting, and in addition to this she was conscious of a certain desire to go. It appeared in some respects an unreasonable wish, but she felt deep down in her that if Wyllard had let the men understand that he would not dismiss them the promise, implied or explicit, must be redeemed. He would not have attempted to release himself from it--she was sure of that--and it appeared intolerable to her that another should be permitted to do anything that would unfavourably reflect on him. Then, somewhat to her relief, Hastings started another topic.

"You have sold quite a few binders and harrows one way or another, haven't you, Jim?" he said.

Sproatly laughed. "I have," he said. "As I told the Company's Western representative some time ago, a man who could sell patent medicine to the folks round here could do a good trade in anything. He admitted that my contention sounded reasonable, but I didn't wear store clothes then, and he seemed very far from sure of me. Anyway, he gave me a show, and now I've got two or three quite complimentary letters from the Company. They've added a few dollars to my salary, and hint that it's possible they may put me in charge of an implement store."

"And you're satisfied?"