Part 36 (1/2)

”No,” said Brooke, with a harsh laugh. ”In that case the climax of it would have been unnecessarily realistic. You may remember that he shot me. Still, since you may as well know the worst of me, it happened that we both came there with the same purpose, which is somewhat naturally accounted for by the fact that your brother-in-law was away that night.”

”And you allowed me to sympathize with you for your injury and to fancy----”

Barbara broke off abruptly, for it appeared inadvisable under the circ.u.mstances to let him know what motive she had accredited him with.

”My brother-in-law is naturally not aware of this?” she said.

”I, at least, considered it necessary to acquaint him with most of it before I went to the Dayspring. No doubt you will find it difficult to credit that, but if it appears worth while you can of course confirm it.

You would evidently have been less tolerant than he has shown himself!”

Barbara stood up, and Brooke became sensible of intense relief as he saw Mrs. Devine was approaching with a bundle of wraps.

”I would sooner have sacrificed the mine than continue to have any dealings with you,” she said.

Then she turned away, and left him sitting somewhat limply in his chair and staring vacantly at the sea. He saw no more of her during the rest of the voyage, but when two hours later the steamer reached Victoria he went straight to the cable company's office and sent his kinsman in England a message which somewhat astonished him.

”Buy Dayspring on my account as far as funds will go,” it read.

XXIV.

ALLONBY STRIKES SILVER.

Winter had closed in early, with Arctic severity, and the pines were swathed in white and gleaming with the frost when Brooke stood one morning beside the crackling stove in the shanty he and Allonby occupied at the Dayspring mine. A very small piece of rancid pork was frizzling in the frying-pan, and he was busy whipping up two handfuls of flour with water, to make flapjacks of. He could readily have consumed twice as much alone, for it was twelve hours since his insufficient six o'clock supper, but he realized that it was advisable to curb his appet.i.te. Supplies had run very low, and the lonely pa.s.ses over which the trail to civilization led were blocked with snow, while it was a matter of uncertainty when the freighter and his packhorse train could force his way in.

When the flour was ready he stirred the stove to a brisker glow, and, crossing the room, flung open the outer door. It was still an hour or two before sunrise, and the big stars scintillated with an intensity of frosty radiance, though the deep indigo of the cloudless vault was paling in color, and the pines were growing into definite form. Here and there a sombre spire or ragged branch rose harshly from the rest, but, for the most part, they were smeared with white, and his eyes were dazzled by the endless vista of dimly-gleaming snow. Towering peak and serrated rampart rose hard and sharp against a background of coldest blue. There was no sound, for the glaciers' slushy feet that fed the streams had hardened into adamant, and a deathlike silence pervaded the frozen wilderness.

Brooke felt the cold strike through him with the keenness of steel, and was about to cross the s.p.a.ce between the shanty and the men's log shelter, when a dusky figure, beating its arms across its chest, came out of the latter.

”Are the rest of the boys stirring yet?” he said.

The man laughed, and his voice rang with a curious distinctness through the nipping air.

”I guess we've had the stove lit 'most an hour ago,” he said. ”They've no use for being frozen, and that's what's going to happen to some of us unless we can make Truscott's before it's dark. Say, hadn't you better change your mind, and come along with us?”

Brooke made a little sign of negation, though it would have pleased him to fall in with the suggestion. Work is seldom continued through the winter at the remoter mines, and he had most unwillingly decided to pay off the men, owing to the difficulty of transporting provisions and supplies. There was, however, a faint probability of somebody attempting to jump the unoccupied claim, and he had of late become infected by Allonby's impatience, while he felt that he could not sit idle in the cities until the thaw came round again. Still, he was quite aware that he ran no slight risk by remaining.

”I'm not sure that it wouldn't be wiser, but I've got to stay,” he said.

”Anyway, Allonby wouldn't come.”

The other man dropped his voice a little. ”That don't count. If you'll stand in, we'll take him along on the jumper sled. The old tank's 'most played out, and it's only the whisky that's keeping the life in him.

He'll go out on the long trail sudden when there's no more of it, and it's going to be quite a long while before the freighter gets a load over the big divide.”

Brooke knew that this was very likely, but he shook his head. ”I'm half afraid it would kill him to leave the mine,” he said. ”It's the hope of striking silver that's holding him together as much as the whisky.”

”Well,” said the man, who laughed softly, ”I've been mining and prospecting most of twenty years, and it's my opinion that, except the little you're getting on the upper level, there's not a dollar's worth of silver here. Now I guess Harry will have breakfast ready.”

He moved away, and when Brooke went back into the shanty, Allonby came out of an inner room s.h.i.+vering. His face showed grey in the lamplight, and he looked unusually haggard and frail.

”It's bitter cold, and I seem to feel it more than I did last year,” he said. ”We will, however, be beyond the necessity of putting up with any more unpleasantness of the kind long before another one is over. I shall probably feel adrift then--it will be difficult, in my case, to pick up the thread of the old life again.”