Part 6 (1/2)
”What was it I heard?” Nasmyth asked.
”Cow-bells,” Lisle explained, laughing. ”In this country, they generally put them on any cattle that run loose in the timber. Some adventurous rancher has located up here, though I hadn't expected to find one so far north. Anyway, it's a relief; he'll no doubt be able to let us have something to eat.”
They reached the man's log house an hour later, and spent the day with him, enjoying a much needed rest. The next morning he supplied them with provisions and told them how to find a trail down to a wagon road; and, setting out, they safely reached a settlement in regular communication with the cities.
It was the settlement Lisle had expected to come to, and he found a bundle of correspondence awaiting him there. Before he opened it, however, he and Nasmyth supplied themselves with such clothing as they could obtain at the local store, and then demanded a bath at the little wooden hotel. They had some trouble in obtaining it, but Nasmyth was firm, and eventually he sat down to supper, clad in a blue s.h.i.+rt with scarlet tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, extremely tight-fitting clothes and daintily-pointed shoes.
”I think I'd have done better if I'd stuck to my rags, or else bought a pair of what that fellow called river-Jacks' boots,” he commented ruefully.
Lisle was similarly attired, but he was too busy with his meal to sympathize with him, and some time after it was over Nasmyth, strolling into the private room which they had obtained as a signal concession, found him writing at a littered table. Sitting down, he watched him for a while with some slight wonder. For a number of weeks, he had seen his companion handling heavy loads, cooking, and hauling canoes round rapids with the skill of a professional packer. It was hard to disa.s.sociate him from the ranges and the bush; but now, with the pile of letters before him, he had suddenly become a business man. Nasmyth saw him answer a couple in a swift, decided manner which showed that he was at home in his present occupation. It was one of the quick character-changes which, while common in the West, are apt to bewilder the more stereotyped Englishman.
”Are you coming to England with me?” Nasmyth asked at length.
”No; I'm sorry I can't,” answered Lisle, pausing, pen in hand. ”This Gladwyne matter will probably take time and I have none to spare now.
There have been some unexpected developments in my affairs. I don't know when I can get away.”
Nasmyth was conscious of some relief. His companion would have to defer the prosecution of plans that threatened to cause trouble in England, which was something to be thankful for, though he had a strong sympathy for the man.
”Has it ever struck you that you might have less difficulty if you could be content with proving half of what you claim?” he asked. ”It's the more important part--I mean that your late comrade failed to find the cache.”
”Half a truth is not much use--Gladwyne realized that. To declare you haven't done the wrong is a good deal less effective than pointing to the guilty man.”
”I suppose that's correct,” Nasmyth agreed. ”But, after all, unless you can get hold of a list of the provisions cached--and it has most likely been destroyed--there's only one way of substantiating your views.”
”Exactly. Gladwyne's confession will place the matter beyond all doubt.”
”Do you think you will ever get it?”
Lisle's expression hardened.
”Well,” he said, ”I'm going to try.”
Nasmyth abandoned all attempt to daunt or dissuade him.
”Anyway,” he resumed, ”when you come over you must stay with me. I'm sorry we'll have to part company to-morrow. I start east by the first train.”
He strolled out into the moonlight and the keen frosty air. The little wooden town was soon left behind, and sauntering down the rough wagon road beneath towering firs, he saw the great hill summits glitter white against the sky. It was a wonderful country; the grandest he had ever traversed; but it demanded a good deal from the man who ventured into its wilds, and he was not sorry that he was turning his back on it.
Then, as he thought of the land he was bound for and recalled the tragic story of Gladwyne's journey, he once more grew troubled. He realized the immutable sequence of cause and effect--each action had its result which must be faced however much one repented and regretted it. The deed, once done, could not be altered and, what was worse, its consequences reached out to others. Then he wondered whether Clarence had ever repented, and admitted, with a recurrence of his indignation against the man, that it was far from probable. Clarence was one who took life lightly, and although his means had been small until he came into his cousin's possessions, he had somehow succeeded in getting what is often considered the best out of it. Self-denial in any shape was unknown to him.
The next morning Nasmyth took the train for Montreal, and about a fortnight later alighted at a little station in the north of England as the early dusk was closing in. It was a quiet evening and the soft moistness of his native air struck him as something pleasantly familiar after the keener, drier atmosphere of the Dominion. He was glad to be back again, but when he looked around, the trap waiting in the wet road outside the railings was not his own. Neither did it belong to Clarence, whom he had partly expected; but on the whole Nasmyth was glad of that.
He had not looked forward to the first meeting with Clarence with any pleasure.
In another moment, a girl came along the platform through the groups of local pa.s.sengers, who respectfully made way for her. She was tall, and her long outer garment failed to conceal her grace of movement and fine poise, though in the fading light her face was almost invisible beneath a large hat. The sight of her sent a thrill of satisfaction through the man; it was seldom that Millicent Gladwyne's appearance was unwelcome to her friends. She approached him with outstretched hand.
”I drove over for you. Clarence couldn't come; he was suddenly called up to town,” she began. ”It would have been rather lonely for you to spend the first evening by yourself at the Lodge. You will come to us?”
”Thoughtful as ever,” smiled Nasmyth, with a little bow which was respectful as well as friendly. ”I needn't ask how you are; the way you walked along the platform was a testimony to our Border air.”