Part 9 (1/2)

”I hardly expected an answer,” he went on. ”Accordingly, I'll proceed to name the men who I believe must know about this contemptible action, and notify them that they will be paid off to-morrow.”

A tumult of mingled wrath and applause started when Thurston coolly called aloud a dozen names. One voice broke through the others: ”We're working for Julius Savine, an' don't count a bad two-bits on you,” it declared defiantly. ”We'll all fling our tools into the river before we let one of them fellows go.”

”In that case the value of the tools will be deducted from the wages due you,” Thurston announced calmly. ”After this notice, Julius Savine's representative won't pay any of the men I mention, whether they work or not; and n.o.body, who does not earn it, will get a single meal out of the cook shanty. I'll give you until to-morrow to make up your minds concerning what you will do.” Aside to Davies he said: ”I'll take your lumber gang in any case. Go back and send them in as soon as you can.”

The a.s.sembly broke up in a divided state of mind. Although it was very late, little groups lingered outside the tents, and at intervals angry voices were heard. Summers set out for the railroad to communicate by telegraph with his employer, and Thurston retired to his tent, where he went peacefully to sleep. Awakening later than usual, he listened with apparent unconcern to Mattawa Tom, who aroused him, with the warning:

”It's time you were out. Them fellows are coming along for their money. The boys called up a big roll, as soon as the lumber gang marched in, and, though there was considerable wild talking, the sensible ones allowed it was no more use kicking.”

”That's all right,” averred Thurston, who paid the departing malcontents and was glad to get rid of them, knowing that the lumbermen, who were mostly poor settlers, had small sympathy with the mutineers and that he would have at least a balance of power. He set the men to work immediately lengthening the wing of the log slide and the wedge guards of the piers. He himself toiled as hard as any two among them, and, to the astonishment of all, completed the big task before the week was past.

”I hardly like to say what it has cost me, but no log of any length could jam itself in the new pa.s.s,” he said to Summers.

”You're an enterprising man,” was the answer. ”Savine is a bit of a rustler, too, and you'll have a chance of explaining things to him to-morrow. I have had word from him that he's coming through.”

CHAPTER VIII

A REST BY THE WAY

It was afternoon when Julius Savine, accompanied by Summers, had entered Thurston's tent. On the way from the railroad, Summers had explained to the contractor all that had happened. Geoffrey rose to greet Savine, glancing at his employer with some curiosity, for he had not met him before. Savine was a man of quick, restless movements and nervous disposition. The gray that tinged his long mustache, lightly sprinkled his hair, gave evidence of his fifty years of intense living.

He was known to be not only a daring engineer, but a generally successful speculator in mining and industrial enterprises.

Nevertheless, Geoffrey fancied that something in his face gave a hint of physical weakness.

”I have heard one or two creditable things about you, and thought of asking you to run up to my offices, but I'm glad to meet you now,” said Savine with a smile, adding when Thurston made a solemn bow, ”There, I've been sufficiently civil, and I see you would rather I talked business. I'm considerably indebted to you for the way you tackled the late crisis, and approve of the log-guard's extension. How much did the extra work cost you?”

”Here is the wages bill and a list of the iron work charged at cost,”

Thurston answered. ”As I did the work without any orders you would be justified in declining to pay for it, and I have included no profit.”

”Ah!” said Savine, who glanced over the paper and scribbled across it.

Looking up with a twinkle in his eye, he asked: ”Have you been acquiring riches latterly? My cas.h.i.+er will pay that note whenever you hand it in at Vancouver. I'll also endorse your contract for payment if you will give it me. Further, I want to say that I've been to look at your work, and it pleases me. There are plenty of men in this province who would have done it as solidly, but it's the general design and ingenious fixings that take my fancy. May I ask where you got the ideas?”

”In England,” answered Geoffrey. ”I spent some time in the drawing office of a man of some note.” He mentioned a name, and Savine, who looked at him critically, nodded as if in recognition. The older man smiled when Thurston showed signs of resenting his inspection.

”In that case I should say you ought to do,” Savine observed, cheerfully.

”I don't understand,” said Thurston, and Savine answered:

”No? Well, if you'll wait a few moments I'll try to make things plain to you. I want a live man with brains of his own, and some knowledge of mechanical science. There is no trouble about getting them by the car load from the East or the Old Country, but the man for me must know how to use his muscles, if necessary, and handle ax and drill as well.

In short, I want one who has been right through the mill as you seem to have been, and, so long as he earns it, I'm not going to worry over his salary.”

”I'm afraid I would not suit you,” said Geoffrey. ”I'm rather too fond of my own way to make a good servant, and of late I have not done badly fighting for my own hand. Therefore, while I thank you, and should be glad to undertake any minor contracts you can give me, I prefer to continue as at present.”

”I should not fancy that you would be particularly easy to get on with,” Savine observed with another shrewd glance, but with unabated good humor. ”Still, what you suggest might suit me. I have rather more work at present than I can hold on to with both hands, and have tolerably good accounts of you. Come West with me and spend the week end at my house, where we could talk things over quietly.”

Geoffrey was gratified--for the speaker was famous in his profession--and he showed his feeling as he answered: ”I consider myself fortunate that you should ask me.”

”I figured you were not fond of compliments, and I'm a plain man myself,” declared Savine, with the humor apparent in his keen eyes again. ”I will, however, give you one piece of advice before I forget it. My sister-in-law might be there, and if she wants to doctor you, don't let her. She has a weakness for physicking strangers, and the results are occasionally embarra.s.sing.”

It happened accordingly that Thurston, who had overhauled his wardrobe in Vancouver, duly arrived at a pretty wooden villa which looked down upon a deep inlet. He knew the mountain valleys of the c.u.mberland, and had wandered, sometimes footsore and hungry, under the giant ramparts of the Selkirks and the Rockies, but he had never seen a fairer spot than the reft in the hills which sheltered Savine's villa, and was known by its Indian name, ”The Place of the Hundred Springs.”