The One-Way Trail Part 2

He half rose, but Will sat up in a moment.

"Not yet, Jim," he said, almost roughly. Then his tone changed in a way through which his mercurial disposition spoke. "Look here," he went on, "whatever happens in the future, I'd like you to understand that all you've done for me in the past counts for something."

"Then it's real serious, lad?" Jim smiled back at him. But he failed to catch his eye. Then he, too, changed his manner, and there was a sudden coolness in it. "You needn't recite," he said. "Anything I've done has been a--a pleasure to me. Our ways have lain a bit apart for some months, but it makes no difference to my feelings, except to make me regret it. The fortunes of war, eh? And a fair bit of grist is rolling into our separate mills. Honest grist. We're good friends, lad--so let's have it. It's--it's a woman?"

At the mention of the word, "woman," Will seemed to utterly freeze up.

"Yes, it's--a woman," he said frigidly.

"Eve Marsham?"

"Yes."

Jim sighed. He knew there were breakers ahead. Breakers which must be faced, and faced sternly.

"You love her?" There was a dryness in his throat.

"Yes. I--I can't live without her. She is my whole world. She is more than that. G.o.d! How I love her!"

"I love her, too."

Jim's darkly brilliant eyes were on the younger man's face. They compelled his gaze, and the two men looked long at each other, vainly trying to penetrate to that which lay behind. It was Will who turned away at last.

"I knew it," he said, and there was no longer any pretense of cordiality in his tone.

"Well?"

"Well?"

It was a tense moment for both men; and tremendous in its possibilities.

There was no shrinking in either now; no yielding. But, as it ever was, Jim took the lead after a few moments' silence.

"And--does she love you?" he asked slowly.

His words were little above a whisper, but so tense was his feeling that his voice seemed to cut through the still air of the room. Will hesitated before replying. Perhaps he was reckoning up Jim's chances as compared with his own. Finally, he was reluctantly compelled to make an admission.

"I don't know--yet."

The other sighed audibly. Then he mechanically began to refill his pipe. He wanted to speak, but there seemed to be nothing adequate to say. Two men, virile, thrilling with the ripe, red blood of perfect manhood, friends, and--a woman stood between them.

"It's no good," Jim said, preparing to light his pipe. "The position is--impossible."

"Yes."

Now both pipes were smoking as under a forced draught.

"I'd give my life for her," the elder muttered, almost unconsciously.

Will caught at his words.

"My life is hers," he cried, almost defiantly.

They were no further on.

"Can you--suggest----?"

Will shook his head. The snow on the distant peaks glistened like diamonds in the gorgeous sunlight, and his attention seemed riveted upon it.

"What pay are you making, Will?" Jim inquired presently.

"Eighty dollars a month--why?"

"Ten more than me." Jim laughed harshly. "You're the better match.

You're younger, too."

"She's got a wad of her own. A thousand dollars," added Will.

His remark was unpleasing, and Jim's eyes grew colder.

"That don't cut any figure. That's hers," he said sharply.

"But--it's useful----"

"To her--maybe."

The flow of their talk dried up again. They could make no headway in clearing up their dilemma. To Jim each pa.s.sing moment was making things harder; with each pa.s.sing moment their friends.h.i.+p was straining under the pressure. Suddenly a thought flashed through his brain. It was a light of hope, where, before, all had been darkness.

"I haven't asked her yet," he said. "And you--you haven't?"

"No."

"Say, we're sailing an uncharted sea, and--there's a fog."

It was a reluctant nod Jim received in reply.

"We'll have to ask her," he went on. "She can't marry us both. Maybe she'll marry neither."

"That's so." Jim failed to observe Will's smile of confidence. "Yes, we'll both ask her. I've got to go through Barnriff on my way to the hills. I'll call and see her. You can ride in this evening."

Jim shook his head.

"Guess that's an elegant plan--for you."

Quick as a flash Will turned on him. His volcanic anger rose swiftly.

"What d'you mean?"

"Just what I say." Jim's response seemed to have less friendliness in it. Then he knocked his pipe out, and rose from his seat. "No, boy,"

he said. "We'll just play the game right here. We'll take a chance for who goes to her first. If she wants neither of us--well, we'll have played the game by each other, anyway. And if she chooses either of us then the other must take his medicine like a man. Let's--be sportsmen."