Part 37 (1/2)
He pulled off his shabby coat, and when the train stopped and Deering jumped down nothing distinguished him from the construction gang.
Climbing on to a flat car, he joined the men who threw down the rails, and presently saw the trooper stop the fellow who wore his coat and cap.
He did not know how the railroad man accounted for his wearing good furs, but he was obviously a track-grader and after a few moments the trooper let him go. Then the train rolled up the line and Deering stayed with the men who moved the rails.
By and by the trooper walked past the gang, glanced at the men carelessly, and, turning back, vanished in the gloom. Deering thought him satisfied n.o.body but the track-graders was about, and soon afterwards he started for the house. So far, he had trusted his luck, but he wanted help and must get food. Moreover, he must not excite the storekeeper's curiosity.
A clump of pines cut the illumination up the track. Sometimes when the blast-lamp's flame leaped up, bright reflections touched the house, but for the most part, the ground in front was dark. When Deering was near the door, a man came out and stopped for a few moments. Deering thought him a rancher and when he went down the steps met him at the bottom.
”Can I buy some flour and groceries?” he asked.
”You might,” said the other and looked at Deering as if he thought the inquiry strange. ”Why do you want groceries? Where are you going?”
Deering saw something must be risked and when a risk must be run he did not hesitate.
”If I can find the trail, I'm going up the valley. Peter Jardine has a ranch at the lake, I think?”
”That's so,” said the other. ”I'm Peter Jardine!”
Deering laughed. His luck had not turned and when the reflections from the blast-lamp touched the rancher's face he thought he had got the proper man.
”Then, as soon as you can get me some groceries, I'll start for the rocks. Your uncle sent me along and stated you would help. You see, I'm Jimmy Leyland's partner and Miss Margaret's friend.”
”Ah,” said Peter, ”you're Deering? Well, the police are after Jimmy. For some days two troopers hunted for his tracks and then a sergeant and another came in on the train and started off as if they knew where he was. In the meantime, a sports outfit hit the trail, but I didn't meet up with them. I made the station in the afternoon and didn't know what I ought to do. In fact, when you came along, I was wondering if I'd pull out for the ranch.”
”You're coming with me. I don't want to boast, but I'm a mountain clubman and on the rocks I reckon I can beat the police.”
”But Jimmy's friends got off in front of the troopers.”
”There's the trouble; they're not all his friends,” Deering rejoined.
”On the whole, I'd sooner the police got him than he crossed the range with the other lot. But we'll talk about this again. When can you start?”
”I can start as soon as my horse is loaded up, but we have got to bluff the policeman. He mustn't see us take the mountain trail. Well, I've pork and flour and groceries. Have you got all you want?”
”I want a Hudson's Bay blanket and a pack-rope,” said Deering and gave Peter a roll of bills. ”Then you had better buy a frying-pan and grub-hoe.”
”Very well. Go ahead up the trail across the clearing and wait for me by the creek,” said Peter and returned to the store.
After a time he rejoined Deering and tied his loaded horse to a branch.
”The storekeeper knows I hit the Green Lake trail, and we don't want the cayuse. When we have sorted out the truck we need, he'll make the ranch all right. Light the lantern and we'll fix our packs.”
Deering lighted the lantern and after a few minutes strapped a bag of food on his back. He pushed his folded blanket through the straps, gave Peter the rope, and picked up the grub-hoe, a Canadian digging tool very like a mountaineer's ice-ax. Then they put out the light, let the horse go, and went back quietly to the railroad. n.o.body was about, and stealing across the line, they plunged into the gloom.
”My luck's good,” said Deering. ”When I think about all we're up against, I sure want it good.”
XXVIII
A DISSOLVING PICTURE