Part 32 (1/2)
But no evidence of this knowledge appeared in his manner.
”I didn't give my last name because there is a prejudice against me in this country,” he explained in an even voice.
He wondered as he spoke if he had better try to fling himself through the window sash. There might be a remote chance that he could make it.
The miner at the table killed this possibility by rising and standing squarely in the road.
”Look out! He's got a gat,” warned Macy.
Gordon fervently wished he had. But he was unarmed. While his eyes quested for a weapon he played for time.
”You can't get away with this, you know. The United States Government is back of me. It's known I left the Willow Creek Camp. I'll be traced here.”
Through Gordon's mind there flashed a word of advice once given him by a professional prize-fighter: ”If you get in a rough house, don't wait for the other fellow to hit first.”
They were crouching for the attack. In another moment they would be upon him. Almost with one motion he stooped, s.n.a.t.c.hed up by the leg a heavy stool, and sprang to the bed upon which he had been sitting.
The four men closed with him in a rush. They came at him low, their heads protected by uplifted arms. His memory brought to him a picture of the whitewashed gridiron of a football field, and in it he saw a vision of safety.
The stool crashed down upon Big Bill Macy's head. Gordon hurdled the crumpling figure, plunged between hands outstretched to seize him, and over the table went through the window, taking the flimsy sash with him.
CHAPTER XXI
A NEW WAY OF LEAVING A HOUSE
The surge of disgust with which Sheba had broken her engagement to marry Macdonald ebbed away as the weeks pa.s.sed. It was impossible for her to wait upon him in his illness and hold any repugnance toward this big, elemental man. The thing he had done might be wrong, but the very openness and frankness of his relation to Met.e.e.t.se redeemed it from shame. He was neither a profligate nor a squawman.
This was Diane's point of view, and in time it became to a certain extent that of Sheba. One takes on the color of one's environment, and the girl from Drogheda knew in her heart that Met.e.e.t.se and Colmac were no longer the real barriers that stood between her and the Alaskan.
She had been disillusioned, saw him more clearly; and though she still recognized the quality of bigness that set him apart, her spirit did not now do such complete homage to it. More and more her thoughts contrasted him with another man.
Macdonald did not need to be told that he had lost ground, but with the dogged determination that had carried him to success he refused to accept the verdict. She was a woman, therefore to be won. The habit of victory was so strong in him that he could see no alternative.
He embarra.s.sed her with his downright attentions, hemmed her in with courtesies she could not evade. If she appealed to her cousin, Diane only laughed.
”My dear, you might as well make up your mind to him. He is going to marry you, w.i.l.l.y-nilly.”
Sheba herself began to be afraid he would. There was something dominant and masterful about the man that swept opposition aside. He had a way of getting what he wanted.
The motor-car picnic to the Willow Creek Camp was a case in point. Sheba did not want to go, but she went. She would much rather have sat in the rear seat with Diane,--at least, she persuaded herself that she would,--yet she occupied the place beside Macdonald in front. The girl was a rebel. Still, in her heart, she was not wholly reluctant. He made a strong appeal to her imagination. She felt that it would have been impossible for any girl to be indifferent to the wooing of such a man.
The picnic was a success. Macdonald was an outdoor man rather than a parlor one. He took charge of the luncheon, lit the fire, and cooked the coffee without the least waste of effort. In his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, the neck open at the throat, he looked the embodiment of masculine vigor. Diane could not help mentioning it to her cousin.
”Isn't he a splendid human animal?”
Sheba nodded. ”He's wonderful.”
”If I were a little Irish colleen and he had done me the honor to care for me, I'd have fallen fathoms deep in love with him.”
The Irish colleen's eyes grew reflective. ”Not if you had seen Peter first, Di. There's nothing reasonable about a girl, I do believe. She loves--or else she just doesn't.”