Part 27 (1/2)

Many leagues divided us from the railroad, and the way seemed very long.

The dejection that settled upon me brought a physical la.s.situde with it, and I rode wearily, jolting in the saddle before the journey was half done. Since the memorable night at Bonaventure, when I first met Boone, trouble after trouble had crowded on me, and, supported by mere obstinacy when hope had gone, I still held on. Now it seemed the end had come, and, at the best, I must retire beaten to earn a daily wage by the labor of my hands if I escaped conviction as a felon. Lane would absorb Crane Valley, as he had done Gaspard's Trail. As if in mockery the prairie had donned its gayest robe of green, and lay flooded with cloudless suns.h.i.+ne.

Mackay made no further advances since my last repulse, but rode silently on my right hand, Cotton on my left, holding back a little so that I could not see him, and so birch bluff, willows, and emerald levels rolled up before us and slid back to the prairie's rim until, towards dusk on the second day, cubes of wooden houses and a line of gaunt telegraph poles loomed up ahead.

”I'm glad,” said Corporal Cotton, breaking into speech at last. ”I don't know if you'll believe it, Ormesby, but this has been a sickening day to me. I'm tired of the confounded service--I'm tired of everything.”

”Ye're young and tender on the bit, and without the sense to go canny when it galls ye. What ails ye at the service anyway?” interposed the sergeant.

”I'll say nothing about some of the duties. They're a part of the contract,” answered Cotton. ”Still, I never bargained to arrest my best friends when I became a policeman.”

”Friends!” said Mackay. ”Who were ye meaning?” and Cotton turned in my direction with the face of one who had narrowly escaped a blunder.

”Aren't you asking useless questions? I mean Rancher Ormesby.”

”I observed ye used the plural,” said Mackay.

Cotton answered shortly: ”When one is going through a disgusting duty to the best of his ability, he may be forgiven a trifling lapse in grammar.”

The light was failing as we rode up to the station some time before the train was due, and looking back, I saw several diminutive objects on the edge of the prairie. They were, I surmised, mounted settlers coming in for letters or news, but except that the blaze of crimson behind them forced them up, it would have been hard to recognize the shapes of men and beasts. Round the other half of the circle the waste was fading into the dimness that crept up from the east, and feeling that I had probably done with the prairie, and closed another chapter of my life, I turned my eyes towards the string of giant poles and the little railroad station ahead.

There were fewer loungers than usual about it, but when we dismounted, Cotton started as two feminine figures strolled side by side down the platform, and said something softly under his breath.

”What has surprised you?” I asked, and he pointed towards the pair.

”Those are Haldane's daughters, by all that is unfortunate!”

There was no avoiding the meeting. Darkness had not settled yet, and Mackay, who failed to recognize the ladies, was regarding us impatiently. ”I'll do my best, and they may not notice anything suspicious,” the corporal said.

We moved forward, Mackay towards the office, Cotton hanging behind me, but, as ill-luck would have it, both ladies saw us when we reached the track, and before I could recover from my dismay, I stood face to face with Beatrice Haldane. She was, it seemed to me, more beautiful than ever, but I longed that the earth might open beneath me.

”It is some time since I have seen you, and you do not look well,” she said. ”You once described the Western winters as invigorating; but one could almost fancy the last had been too much for you.”

”I cannot say the same thing, and if we had nothing more than the weather to contend with, we might preserve our health,” I said. ”I did not know you were at Bonaventure, or I should have ridden over to pay my respects to you.”

Beatrice Haldane did not say whether this would have given her pleasure or otherwise. Indeed, her manner, if slightly cordial, was nothing more, and I found it desirable to study a rail fastening when I saw her sister watching me.

”I arrived from the East only a few days ago, and we are now awaiting my father, who had some business down the line. Are you going out with the train?”

”I am going to Empress,” I said; and Lucille Haldane interposed: ”That is a long way; and the last time he met you, you told father you were too busy to visit Bonaventure. Who will see to your sowing--and will you stay there long?”

I heard Corporal Cotton grind his heel viciously into the plank beneath him; and I answered, in desperation:

”I do not know. I am afraid so.”

Perhaps the girl noticed by my voice that all was not well. Indeed, Beatrice also commenced to regard the corporal and myself curiously.

”What has happened, Mr. Ormesby? You look positively haggard?” the younger sister said. ”Why are you keeping in the background, Corporal Cotton? Have you done anything to be ashamed of?” Then she ceased with a gasp of pained surprise, and I read consternation in her eyes.

”You have guessed aright. I am not making this journey of my own will,”

I said.