Part 7 (1/2)

There was another enemy made! He had never felt quite sure of this man, but had been glad to have him about the place as being thoroughly efficient in his own business. It was only during the last ten days that he had agreed to pay him for night-watching, leaving the man to do as much additional day-work as he pleased--for which, of course, he would be paid at the regular contract price. There was a double purpose intended in this watching--as was well understood by all the hands employed: first, that of preventing incendiary fire by the mere presence of the watchers; and secondly, that of being at hand to extinguish fire in case of need. Now a man ringing trees five or six miles away from the beat on which he was stationed could not serve either of these purposes. Boscobel therefore had been fraudulently at work for his own dishonest purposes, and knew well that his employment was of that nature. All this was quite clear to Heathcote; and it was clear to him, also, that when he detected fraud he was bound to expose it. Had the man acknowledged his fault and been submissive, there would have been an end of the matter.

Heathcote would have said no word about it to any one, and would not have stopped a farthing from the week's unearned wages. That he had to encounter a certain amount of ill usage from the rough men about him, and to forgive it, he could understand; but it could not be his duty, either as a man or a master, to pa.s.s over dishonesty without noticing it. No; that he would not do, though Gangoil should burn from end to end. He did not much mind being robbed. He knew that to a certain extent he must endure to be cheated. He would endure it. But he would never teach his men to think that he pa.s.sed over such matters because he was afraid of them, or that dishonesty on their part was indifferent to him.

But now he had made another enemy--an enemy of a man who had declared to him that he knew the movements of ”that chap,” meaning Nokes! How hard the world was! It seemed that all around were trouble to him. He turned his horse back, and made again for the spot which was his original destination. As he cantered on among the trees, twisting here and there, and regulating his way by the stars, he asked himself whether it would not be better for him to go home and lay himself down by his wife and sleep, and await the worst that these men could do to him. This idea was so strong upon him that at one spot he made his horse stop till he had thought it all out. No one encouraged him in his work. Every one about the place, friend or foe, Bates, his wife, Medlicot, and this Boscobel, spoke to him as though he were fussy and fidgety in his anxiety. ”If fires must come, they will come; and if they are not to come, you are simply losing your labor.”

This was the upshot of all they said to him. Why should he be wiser than they? If the ruin came, let it come. Old Bates had been ruined, but still had enough to eat and drink, and clothes to wear, and did not work half as hard as his employer. He thought that if he could only find some one person who would sympathize with him and support him, he would not mind. But the mental loneliness of his position almost broke his heart.

Then there came across his mind the dim remembrance of certain old school words, and he touched his horse with his spur and hurried onward: ”Let there be no steps backward.” A thought as to the manliness of persevering, of the want of manliness in yielding to depression, came to his rescue. Let him, at any rate, have the comfort of thinking that he had done his best according to his lights. After some dim fas.h.i.+on, he did come to recognize it as a fact that nothing could really support him but self-approbation. Though he fell from his horse in utter weariness, he would persevere.

As the night wore on he came to the German's hut, and finding it empty, as he expected, rode on to the outside fence of his run. When he reached this he got off his horse, and taking a key out of his pocket, whistled upon it loudly. A few minutes afterward the German came up to him.

”There's been no one about, I suppose?” he asked.

”Not a one,” said the man.

”You've been across on Brownbie's run?”

”We're on it now, Mr. 'Eathcote.” They were both on the side of the fence away from Gangoil station.

”I don't know how that is, Karl. I think Gangoil goes a quarter of a mile beyond this. But we did not quite strike the boundary when we put up the fence.”

”Brownbie's cattle is allays here, Mr. 'Eathcote, and is knocking down the fence every day. Brownbie is a rascal, and 'is cattle as bad as 'isself.”

”Never mind that, Karl, now. When we've got through the heats, we'll put a mile or two of better fencing along here. You know Boscobel?”

”In course I know Bos.”

”What sort of a fellow is he?” Then Harry told his German dependent exactly what had taken place between him and the other man.

”He's in and in wid all them young Brownbies,” said Karl.

”The Brownbies are a bad lot, but I don't think they'd do any thing of this kind,” said Harry, whose mind was still dwelling on the dangers of fire.

”They likes muttons, Mr. 'Eathcote.”

”I suppose they do take a sheep or two now and then. They wouldn't do worse than that, would they?”

”Not'ing too 'ot for 'em; not'ing too 'eavy,” said Karl, smoking his pipe. ”The vind, vat there is, comes just here, Mr. 'Eathcote.” And the man lifted up his arm, and pointed across in the direction of Brownbie's run.

”And you don't think much of Boscobel?”

Karl Bender shook his head.

”He was always well treated here,” said Harry, ”and has had plenty of work, and earned large wages. The man will be a fool to quarrel with me.”

Karl again shook his head. With Karl Bender, Harry was quite sure of his man, but not on that account need he be quite sure of the correctness of the man's opinion.

Thence he went on till he met his other lieutenant, O'Dowd, and so, having completed his work, he made his way home, reaching the station at sunrise.

”Did Bates tell you he'd met me?” he asked his wife.

”Yes, Harry; kiss me, Harry. I was so glad you sent a word. Promise me, Harry, not to think that I don't agree with you in every thing.”