Part 23 (1/2)

Saxton did so at length, and it was perfectly evident that he saw no incongruity between what he purposed to do when in the Legislature and the means he adopted of getting there, for he sketched out reforms and improvements with optimistic ability. Once or twice a sardonic smile crept into Brooke's eyes, for there was no mistaking the fact that the man was serious, and then his attention wandered, and he ruminated on the position. Saxton appeared curiously well informed as to Devine's movements, but though Brooke could find no answer to the question how he had obtained the information, it did not, after all, seem to be of any great importance, and he once more found himself listening to his comrade languidly. Saxton was then declaiming against official corruption and incapacity.

”We want to make a clean sweep, and put the best and squarest men into office. This country has no use for any other kind,” he said.

”That,” said Brooke, drily, ”is no doubt why you are going in. Anyway, I fancy it is getting late, and I have a long ride before me to-morrow.”

Saxton smiled good-humoredly. ”Well,” he said, ”I can go just as straight as any man when I've made my little pile. Most folks find it a good deal easier then.”

It seemed to Brooke, who had not found adversity especially conducive to uprightness, that there was, perhaps, a certain truth in his comrade's notion, but he felt no great inclination to consider the question, and in another ten minutes was sinking into sleep. He also started before sunrise next morning, and was walking stiffly up the climbing trail to the Canopus mine, with the bridle of the jaded horse in his hand, when he came upon Barbara Heathcote amidst the pines. She apparently noticed his weariness and the mire upon the horse.

”The trail must have been very bad,” she said.

”It certainly was,” said Brooke, who, because it did not appear advisable that any one should suspect he was riding to the Elktail mine, had taken the trail to the settlement when he set out. ”When there has been heavy rain, it usually is. The trail-choppers should have laid down logs in the Saverne swamp.”

”But what took you that way?” said the girl. ”It must have been a tremendous round.”

Brooke realized that he had been indiscreet, for n.o.body who wished to reach the settlement was likely to cross that swamp.

”As a matter of fact, it is,” he said. ”As you see, the horse is almost played out.”

Barbara glanced at him, as he fancied, rather curiously, but she changed the subject. ”I have a friend from Vancouver, who heard you play at the concert, here, and we had hoped you might be persuaded to bring your violin across to the ranch to-night. Katty asked Jimmy to tell you that we expected you. That is, if you were not too tired.”

Brooke felt the blood creep into his face. He longed to go, but he had a sense of fitness, and he felt that, although such scruples were a trifle out of place in his case, he could not, after the arrangement he had made with Saxton, betray the girl's confidence by visiting the ranch again as a respected guest. No excuse but the one she had suggested, however, presented itself, and it seemed to him advisable to make use of it with uncompromising candidness. Her friendliness hurt him, and, since it presumably sprang from a mistaken good opinion, it would be a slight relief to show her that he was deficient even in courtesy.

”I'm almost afraid I am,” he said.

Barbara Heathcote had a good deal of self-restraint, but there was a trace of astonishment in her face, and, for a moment, a suspicious sparkle in her eyes.

”Then we will, of course, excuse you,” she said. ”You will, I hope, not think it very inconsiderate of me to stop you now.”

Brooke said nothing, but tugged at the bridle viciously, and trudged forward into the gloom of the pines, while Barbara, who would not admit that she had come there in the hope of meeting him, turned homewards thoughtfully. As it happened, she also met the freight-packer, who brought their supplies up on the way.

”Where is Saverne swamp? Behind the range, isn't it?” she said.

”Yes, miss,” said the freighter, pointing across the pines. ”Back yonder.”

”Then if I wished to ride into the settlement I could scarcely go round that way?”

The man laughed. ”No,” he said. ”I guess you couldn't. Not unless you started the night before, and then you'd have to climb right across the big divide. n.o.body heading for the settlement would take that trail.”

He went on with his loaded beasts, and Barbara stood still, looking down upon the forest with a little pink tinge in her cheeks and a curious expression in her eyes. Remembering the trace of disconcertion he had shown, she very much wished to know where Brooke had really been.

XVI.

BARBARA'S RESPONSIBILITY.

Darkness had closed down outside, and the lamp was lighted in Devine's office, which occupied a projection of the wooden ranch. Behind it stood the kitchen, and a short corridor, which gave access to both, led back from its inner door to the main building. Another door opened directly on to the clearing, and a grove of willows, past which the trail led, crept close up to it, so that any one standing among them could see into the room. There was, however, little probability of that happening, for n.o.body lived in that stretch of forest, except the miners, whose shanty stood almost a mile away. Devine sat opposite the captain of the mine across the little table, and he had let his cigar go out, while his face was a trifle grim.

”The last clean-up was not particularly encouraging, Tom,” he said.