Part 26 (1/2)

”He has not,” she said very quietly. ”Still, as I said, these are subjects I cannot discuss with everybody.”

”And yet you were anxious to know why friendliness was out of the question between you and me! Well, I admit that I find a certain pleasure in telling you, and it isn't quite unnatural. You read how my father--Jimmy's father--died, but you do not know how he came to be living in that sordid shanty, an infirm and nerveless man. Your father slowly ruined him, wringing his few dollars out of him one by one, by practices no honorable man would condescend to, until there was nothing more he could lay his grasping hands upon. When that happened my father was broken in health and courage, and only wished to hide what he felt, most foolishly, was shameful poverty. There wore other things--things I cannot tell you of--but they make it clear that your father is directly responsible for my father's death.”

She stopped abruptly and took up her sewing, but her face looked very grim and vindictive in its dead pallor, for the spot of color had faded now, and presently she flung the dainty fabric down again and looked steadily at her companion. Neither of them spoke for almost a minute, and once more Anthea felt the stillness of the ranch-house and the heavy honey-like smell of the pines curiously oppressive. She believed in her father, or had made up her mind to do so, which was, however, perhaps not quite the same thing; but she could not doubt that Eleanor Wheelock was firmly persuaded of the accuracy of the indictment that she had made. The pa.s.sionate vindictive thrill in her voice had been absolutely genuine, and Anthea recognized that it could not have been so without some reason. Then Eleanor spoke again.

”You may wonder why I have told you this--though I am not quite sure that you do,” she said. ”Well, you at least understand why I resent your sympathy, and if I had any other purpose it may perhaps appear to you when you think over what you have heard.”

Anthea rose at last, and turned toward her quietly, but with a certain rigidity of pose which had its significance. She stood very straight and looked at her companion with big, grave eyes.

”You have, at least, said all I care to listen to,” she said.

”And I think sufficient,” said Eleanor, with a bitter smile.

Then, and it was a relief to Anthea, Forster came in, and dropped into a chair.

”I fancy Jake will fix that wheel; but he may be an hour yet, and it's very hot,” he said. ”I don't want to break off your talk, but perhaps you could make us some tea, Miss Wheelock. I don't feel like waiting until supper.”

Eleanor went out, and Anthea found it cost her an effort to talk tranquilly to Forster. She liked the man, but her mind was busy, and had there been any means available she would gladly have escaped from him.

It was evident that Eleanor Wheelock believed what she had told her. The rancher who had kept his jumper in the way was as clearly persuaded that Merril had injured him, and it was conceivable that the newspaper-man also believed his statements warranted. If they were right, her father must have treated several people with considerable harshness, but she could not bring herself to admit that--at least, just then. She naturally did not know Eleanor Wheelock had foreseen that once her doubts were aroused, enlightenment would presently follow. Then there was the latter's veiled suggestion that she was attracted by Jimmy Wheelock, and had condescended to cajole or encourage him. Had she been alone, her cheeks would have tingled at the thought of it, for in one respect the notion was intolerable. Still, though it cost her an effort, she contrived to discourse with Forster, until at last the hired man announced that the wheel was fixed, and, thanking the rancher for his offer to accompany her, she drove on to Vancouver alone.

CHAPTER XIX

WOOD PULP

The fresh northwest breeze that crisped the Inlet swept in through the open ports and set the cigar smoke eddying about the table, when Jimmy sat with Jordan and another man in the _Shasta_'s little stern cabin.

Looking forward through the hooked-back door, he could see the lower yards and serried shrouds of a big iron s.h.i.+p that was lying half-loaded on the _Shasta_'s starboard side. Beyond her there rode a little schooner with reefed mainsail and boom foresail thras.h.i.+ng, while the musical clinketty-clank of her windla.s.s betokened that she was just going to sea. Jimmy's face grew a trifle hard as he heard it, for she was the _Tyee_.

Jordan sprawled on a settee not far away, and a burly, red-faced Briton who commanded the iron s.h.i.+p sat opposite to Jimmy, cigar in hand. The latter had the faculty some people possess of making friends, and, though they had after all seen very little of him, the s.h.i.+pmaster's manner was confidential.

”If the canners who are loading me had kept their promise I'd be driving south with the royals on her before this breeze instead of lying here,”

he said. ”My broker doesn't know when they mean to send the rest of the cases down either, and it seems it's only now and then a mail goes up that coast. In fact, I've almost made up my mind to run round to the Columbia. I believe the packers would load me there.”

”Port charges and tugs are expensive items,” said Jordan thoughtfully.

”Vancouver freights are tolerably good, and it might pay you to wait a week or so. You see that schooner on your quarter? She's going up to the cannery now.”

The skipper made a little impatient gesture. ”How long's she going to be getting there with a head-wind? Besides, all she could bring down would be nothing to me. I wouldn't have stayed so long, only that confounded broker told me a man called Merril was sending a steamer up.”

”Then, since the schooner belongs to him, I guess he has changed his mind. How long would you wait for a steamboat load?”

”A week,” said the skipper--”not a day more. I believe I could fill up on the Columbia, and, as there's not another vessel offering for the United Kingdom here, it would please me to feel that the canners would have to keep their salmon.”

Jordan flashed a warning glance at Jimmy. ”Well,” he said, ”it seems to me that if you will wait the week, you are going to get your freight. I can't tell you exactly why, but I wouldn't break out my anchor for another eight days if I were you.”

”I can take a hint as well as another man;” and the skipper rose. ”In the meanwhile, I'll go ash.o.r.e and stir up that broker again. You'll have a head-wind if you're going north, Mr. Wheelock. Expect you to come off and feed with me when you're back again. Good luck!”

Jordan went with him to the gangway, and then came back and smiled at Jimmy.

”It's just as well you made the New Cannery people a half-promise you'd call this trip,” he said. ”Now I guess you've got to keep it. Things fit in. Merril, as usual, hasn't played a straight game with those packers.