Part 32 (2/2)

There was no answer. That was subject to different explanations. A knock on a bachelor's door, miles from a neighbour, in midwinter, is a thing so unexpected that sometimes the ear does not register it; it merely c.o.c.ks itself to make sure if the sound should be repeated.

I knocked again. In a moment the door opened, and I saw Spoof, in a flannel s.h.i.+rt and smoking jacket, corduroy trousers, moccasins--I think I took in every detail of his attire. His tie was drawn neatly up to the throat; his hair was well brushed; he had not shaved. His moustache was heavier, his face paler, thinner----

”Why, Frank!” he exclaimed. I seemed to hear both welcome and embarra.s.sment in his voice. ”Come in, old man! This is quite a day at section Two.”

On account of the dull weather and the frosted windows Spoof had a lamp burning; it was a bra.s.s lamp, with a twisted, ornamental bowl and a cloth shade of some old gold color. It stood on a shelf which he had built in a corner of his only room; its subdued but cheerful light touched the objects in the little shack with a glint of color which was in sharp contrast to the drab day outside. Spoof's couch had been made up; his steamer rug lay tucked about it. The walls were a maze of firearms, prints, curios. There was the warmth of a fire and the odor of something cooking.

In the corner opposite to the lamp, on the floor, on a mat, sat Jean.

Her knees were propped up in front of her and her long, supple fingers were linked about them. It was as she had sat that day--what, only yesterday?--with me under the great drift on the bank of the gully. A tapestry affair of some kind, hung on the wall, sheltered her from direct contact with the cold boards, and a cus.h.i.+on with a yellow dragon further protected her. She looked up at me as I entered and her face was a riddle too enigmatic to a.n.a.lyse. Annoyance, defiance, pleasure, humor, indifference, were strangely and inextricably interwoven.

”h.e.l.lo, Frank,” she said, quietly.

”You see, Je----Miss Lane is an early caller,” Spoof explained.

”Although not a frequent one,” he added, ”any more than you are. If she had known you were coming no doubt you would have come together.”

”Yes, that might have been better,” I said, pointedly.

”The trail is gone,” Spoof continued, ignoring the jab in my remark. ”It must have taken some skill to find the direction.”

”Particularly before daylight,” I said, more pointedly than before.

”Oh, don't quizz, Frank,” Jean protested. ”I'll tell you all about it presently. I was just saying to Spoof, when your knock interrupted me, how much the wiser the j.a.panese are than we. They sit on the floor, as nature intended them to do, and how graceful they are! I am playing the part.”

”But not for that reason, I am afraid,” said Spoof. ”You see, I rejoice in only one chair, called 'easy' by way of courtesy. Miss Lane refused to sit in it while I stood, and I, of course, could not sit in it while she stood. So she solved a deadlock by sitting on the floor.”

Nothing very incriminating about all this. They were just chatting naturally; surely they couldn't be such actors as to stage this dialogue without a moment's notice. Still--I had had to knock the second time. .

”You have breakfasted?” Spoof inquired.

”Why, I am afraid I must confess I haven't. I left home rather unexpectedly.” I was not disposed to beat about the bush, and the commonplaceness of their talk irritated me. Surely here was a situation bad enough without making it worse by pretending there was nothing bad about it.

Spoof glanced at a clock which chuckled away amiably on his wall. ”We can have lunch within an hour,” he said. With a fork he prodded something stewing on the stove. ”Yes, the rabbit is almost done. By Jove, a good fat one! Fancy how they pick so lordly a living! Will you wait, or would you rather have a bite now? I can only give you bread and marmalade at once. You must be hungry.”

”No, I'm not hungry,” I said, truthfully enough. The fact is, I couldn't keep my eyes off Jean. Now and again, when she didn't know I watched, her face seemed to take on something of melancholy; but mostly it was bright, responsive, vivacious. She seemed to fit so wonderfully--physically and mentally she fitted so wonderfully into Spoof's shack. She had laid her overshoes aside and as she sat the brown ribs of her homeknit stockings peeped over the top of a neatly laced boot. This was before the days of the frank revelations of our modern fas.h.i.+ons. Her intertwined fingers shuttled slowly back and forth against each other; her lips were ruddy in the glow from the little bra.s.s lamp; her hair, parted in the middle and drawn into a wavy roll at the back of her head gave her a peculiarly girlish appearance. She was so young, so small, and withal so wise, so venturesome, so defiant. The place where my breakfast should have been contracted with a great yearning; a huge emptiness filled me.

So we waited for the rabbit to stew, and Spoof and Jean chatted on. I was more the audience than one of the players. They were away into some dispute about atmospheric colorings; something that had to do with rainbows, sun-dogs, ice prisms, light radiation. It was beyond me; so obviously beyond me that Spoof had mercy and brought Jean back to earth.

”What do you think of the scheme to form a new Province here--two new Provinces,” he shot at me, ”instead of our present Districts? More autonomy and more taxes as I see it.”

”Yes, I suppose,” I groped. The fact is I knew nothing about it.

”Would seem more natural to follow the old district boundaries, though,”

Spoof commented. ”They say they are going to run the Provinces from south to north--as far as the sixtieth parallel. There'll be an election next year. You ought to think about that, Frank. It would be some honor to sit in the first parliament of Saskatchewan.”

The idea struck me as grotesque. I said so.

”Why not?” Jean demanded, and there was fire in her voice. ”Perhaps not the first parliament, but some parliament,” she qualified.

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