Part 3 (2/2)

Anyhow, it's not important, and you needn't bother about me. As a rule, philosophizing doesn't knock me out. The cayuse kicked pretty hard.

Well, suppose we start?”

He got up and when Margaret tried to take the pack he pulled it away.

”The job's mine. I undertook to carry the load.”

”But you're tired, and I think you're lame.”

”We won't dispute,” said Jimmy. ”You oughtn't to dispute. Perhaps it's strange, but one feels your word ought to go.”

”It looks as if my word did not go.”

”Oh, well,” said Jimmy, ”when you command people, you have got to use some caution. Much depends on whom you command, and in Lancas.h.i.+re we're an obstinate lot. Anyhow, I'll take the bag.”

He pushed his arms through the straps and Margaret said nothing. She might have taken the bag from him, but to use force was not dignified and she knew to let her carry the load would jar. When they set off she noted that his face was rather white and his step was not even. He had obviously got a nasty kick, but his pluck was good.

The sun went down behind the woods, the pines got dim and sweet resinous scents floated about the trail. The hum of insects came out of the shadow, and Jimmy was forced to rub the mosquitoes from his neck. To put up his hands was awkward, for the ground was uneven, and he must balance his load. He could not talk, the important thing was to reach the ranch before it got dark, and setting his mouth, he pushed ahead.

At length Margaret stopped at a fence, and when she began to pull down the rails Jimmy leaned against a post. The rails were rudely split, and the zig-zag fence was locked by crossed supports and not fastened by nails. On the other side, where timothy gra.s.s and oats had grown, was stubble, dotted by tall stumps and fern. A belt of chopped trees surrounded the clearing, and behind the tangled belt the forest rose like a dark wall. An indistinct log house and barns occupied the other end. An owl swooped noiselessly across the fence, and Jimmy heard the distant howl of a timber wolf.

”Kelshope ranch,” said Margaret. ”The path goes to the house. I must put up the rails.”

Jimmy went through the gap. Perhaps it was soothing quietness, but he felt he liked Kelshope and his curiosity was excited. He knew the big Canadian hotels, the pullmans and observation-cars. So far, money had supplied him, as in London, with much that made life smooth. Now he was to see something of the Canada in which man must labor for all he gets.

The strange thing was, he felt this was the Canada he really ought to know.

IV

KELSHOPE RANCH

Breakfast was over at Kelshope ranch and Jimmy occupied a log at the edge of the clearing. Although his muscles were sore, he felt strangely fresh and somehow satisfied. At the hotel, as a rule, he had not felt like that. His leg hurt, but his host had doctored the cut with some American liniment, and Jimmy was content to rest in the shade and look about. He thought he saw the whole process of clearing a ranch.

In the background, was virgin forest; pine, spruce and hemlock, locking their dark branches. Then one noted the _slas.h.i.+ng_, where chopped trees had fallen in tangled rows, and an inner belt of ashes and blackened stumps. Other stumps, surrounded by fern, checkered the oblong of cultivated soil, and the dew sparkled on the short oat stubble. The oats were not grown for milling; the heads were small and Jardine cut the crop for hay. The garden-lot and house occupied a gentle slope. The walls were built of logs, notched and crossed at the corners; cedar s.h.i.+ngles, split by hand on the spot, covered the roof. Behind the house, one saw fruit trees and log barns. Nothing was factory-made, and Jimmy thought all indicated strenuous labor.

A yard or two off, Jardine rubbed his double-bitted axe with a small round hone. He wore a gray s.h.i.+rt, overalls and long boots, and his skin was very brown. He was not a big man, but he looked hard and muscular and his glance was keen.

”Ye need to get the edge good. It pays to keep her sharp,” he said and tried the blade with his thumb.

”I expect that is so,” Jimmy agreed. ”Did you, yourself, clear the ranch?”

”I chopped every tree, burned the slas.h.i.+ng, and put up the house and barns. Noo I'm getting things in trim and run a small bunch of stock.”

Jimmy thought it a tremendous undertaking; the logs stacked ready to burn were two or three feet across the b.u.t.t.

”How long were you occupied?” he asked.

”Twelve years,” said Jardine, rather drily. ”When the country doon the Fraser began to open up I sold my other ranch, bought two or three building lots in a new town, and started for the bush. I liked this location and I stopped.”

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