Part 17 (1/2)

It seemed to Wisbech as he gazed at the cars that they ran pigmy freight trains in the land he came from, and he was conscious of something that had a curious stirring effect on him in the clang and clatter of that giant rolling stock, as the engineer hurled his great train furiously down-grade. It was man's defiance of the wilderness, a symbol of his domination over all the great material forces of the world. The engineer, who glanced out once from his dust-swept cab, held them bound and subject in the hollow of the grimy hand he clenched upon the throttle. With a deafening roar, the great train leapt across the trestle, which seemed to rock and reel under it, and plunged once more into the forest. A whistle sounded--a greeting to the men upon the bridge--and then the uproar died away in a long diminuendo among the sombre pines.

It was in most respects a fortuitous moment for Wisbech's nephew to meet him, and the older man smiled as Nasmyth strode along the track to grasp his outstretched hand.

”I'm glad to see you, Derrick,” said Wisbech, who drew back a pace and looked at his nephew critically.

”You have changed since I last shook hands with you in London, my lad,” he continued. ”You didn't wear blue duck, and you hadn't hands of that kind then.”

Nasmyth glanced at his scarred fingers and broken nails.

”I've been up against it, as they say here, since those days,” he replied.

”And it has done you a world of good!”

Nasmyth laughed. ”Well,” he said, ”perhaps it has. Any way, that's not a point we need worry over just now. Where have you sprung from?”

Wisbech told him, and added that there were many things he would like to talk about, whereupon Nasmyth smiled in a deprecatory manner.

”I'm afraid you'll have to wait an hour or two,” he said. ”You see, there are several more big logs ready for hauling down, and I have to keep the boys supplied. I'll be at liberty after supper, and you can't get back to-night. In the meanwhile you might like to walk along to where we're getting the logs out.”

Wisbech went with him and Gordon, and was impressed when he saw how they and the oxen handled the giant trunks. He, however, kept his thoughts to himself, and, quietly smoking, sat on a redwood log, a little, un.o.btrusive, grey-clad figure, until Gordon, who had disappeared during the last hour, announced that supper was ready.

Then Wisbech followed Nasmyth and Gordon to their quarters, which they had fas.h.i.+oned out of canvas, a few sheets of corrugated iron, and strips of bark, for, as their work was on the hillside, they lived apart from the regular railroad gang. The little hut was rudely comfortable, and the meal Gordon set out was creditably cooked.

Wisbech liked the resinous scent of the wood smoke that hung about the spot, and the faint aromatic odour of the pine-twig beds and roofing-bark. When the meal was over, they sat a while beneath the hanging-lamp, smoking and discussing general topics, until Nasmyth indicated the canvas walls of the hut and the beds of spruce twigs with a wave of his hand.

”You will excuse your quarters. They're rather primitive,” he said.

Wisbech's eyes twinkled. ”I almost think I shall feel as much at home as I did when you last entertained me at your club, and I'm not sure that I don't like your new friends best,” he said. ”The others were a trifle patronizing, though, perhaps, they didn't mean to be. In fact, it was rather a plucky thing you did that day.”

A faint flush crept into Nasmyth's bronzed face, but Wisbech smiled rea.s.suringly as he glanced about the hut.

”The question is what all this is leading to,” he observed with inquiry in his tone.

Gordon rose. ”I'll go along and talk to the boys,” he announced. ”I won't be back for an hour or two.”

Nasmyth glanced at Wisbech before he turned to his comrade.

”I would sooner you stayed where you are,” he said. Then he answered Wisbech. ”In the first place, if we are reasonably fortunate, it should lead to the acquisition of about a couple of hundred dollars.”

”Still,” said Wisbech, ”that will not go very far. What will be the next thing when you have got the money?”

”In a general way, I should endeavour to earn a few more dollars by pulling out fir-stumps for somebody or clearing land.”

Wisbech nodded. ”No doubt they're useful occupations, but one would scarcely fancy them likely to prove very remunerative,” he said. ”You have, it seems to me, reached an age when you have to choose. Are you content to go on as you are doing now?”

Nasmyth's face flushed as he saw the smile in Gordon's eyes, for it was evident that Wisbech and Laura Waynefleet held much the same views concerning him. They appeared to fancy that he required a lot of what might be termed judicious prodding. This was in one sense not exactly flattering, but he did not immediately mention his great project for drying out the valley. He would not hasten to remove a wrong impression concerning himself.

”Well,” resumed Wisbech, seeing he did not answer, ”if you care to go back and take up your profession in England again, I think I can contrive to give you a fair start. You needn't be diffident. I can afford it, and the thing is more or less my duty.”

Nasmyth sat silent. There was no doubt that the comfort and refinement of the old life appealed to one side of his nature, and there were respects in which his present surroundings jarred on him. It is also probable that, had the offer been made him before he had had a certain talk with Laura Waynefleet, he would have profited by it, but she had roused something that was latent in him, and at the same time endued him with a vague distrust of himself, the effect of which was largely beneficial. He had realized then his perilous propensity for what she had called drifting, and, after all, men of his kind are likely to drift fastest when everything is made pleasant for them. It was characteristic that he looked inquiringly at Gordon, who nodded.