Part 19 (1/2)

The _Tillic.u.m_ would not have compared favourably with an English steam-yacht. She had been built for the useful purpose of towing saw-logs, and was sold cheap when, as the mill she kept supplied grew larger, she proved too small for it. Acton, however, was by no means a fastidious person, and when he had fitted her with a little saloon, and made a few primitive alterations below, he said she was quite good enough for him. For that matter, anyone fond of it might navigate the land-locked waters of Puget Sound and the Straits of Georgia in an open whaleboat with satisfaction in summer-time. There are islands everywhere, wonderful rock-walled inlets that one can sail into, beaches to which the primeval forest comes rolling down, and always above the blue waters tower tremendous ramparts of never-melting snow.

On the evening in question, Acton was not on board. He had taken his wife and guests ash.o.r.e that morning for an excursion to a certain river where there was excellent trout-fis.h.i.+ng, and, as a hotel had lately been built for the convenience of sportsmen visitors, it was uncertain whether they would return that night. Nasmyth had not made one of the party because there was scarcely room for everybody in the gig, and six miles, which was the distance to the river mouth, was rather far to row in the dinghy. Another guest called Martial also had been left behind, and afterwards had been rowed ash.o.r.e to visit a ranching property somewhere in the neighbourhood. He was the man who had followed Miss Hamilton out on to the veranda one night, and Nasmyth, who did not like him, understood that he was connected with a big land exploitation agency.

Nasmyth felt more or less contented with everything, as he lay upon the _Tillic.u.m's_ deck listening to the faint murmur of the swell upon the boulder beach. He had made certain propositions to the Crown lands authorities, which he believed they would look into, and while he waited he found the customs and luxuries of civilization pleasant. He found the society of Violet Hamilton more pleasant still, and the demeanour of the man, Martial, was almost the only thing that ruffled him. Martial had const.i.tuted himself Miss Hamilton's special attendant, and though Nasmyth fancied Mrs. Acton connived at this, it was by no means as evident that the girl was pleased with it. Indeed, he surmised that she liked the man as little as he did. Martial was brusque in mariner, and, though that is not usually resented in British Columbia, he now and then went even further than is considered permissible in that country, and he had gained the sincere dislike of the red-haired George, who acted as the _Tillic.u.m's_ deck-hand, cook, and skipper.

George sat upon the skylights sucking at his pipe, and it presently became evident that his thoughts and Nasmyth's were very much alike.

There was n.o.body else on board, for the man who fired and drove the engines was ash.o.r.e.

”I guess you can catch trout?” the skipper remarked.

”Oh yes,” answered Nasmyth indifferently. ”As a matter of fact, I've had to, when there was very little else to eat.”

George, who was big and lank, and truculent in appearance, nodded.

”Juss so!” he rejoined. ”You've been up against it in the Bush.

Anybody could figure on that by the look of you and the way you use your hands. A city man takes holds of things as if they were going to hurt him. That's kind of why I froze on to you.”

Nasmyth took this as a compliment, and smiled his acknowledgment, for George was a privileged person, and most of his recent companions held democratic views. He, however, said nothing, and George went on again.

”Mrs. Acton's a mighty smart woman, but she plays some fool tricks,”

he commented. ”Where's the blame use in taking a boatload of folks after trout when none of them but the boss knows how to fish?” Then he chuckled. ”You'd have gone with the rest this morning if she wanted you to. Guess the gig would have carried another one quite nicely.”

Nasmyth fancied that this was possible, though he naturally would not admit it to his companion. The fact that his hostess had somewhat cleverly contrived to leave him behind had its significance, since it seemed to indicate that she recognized that Miss Hamilton regarded him with a certain amount of favour.

”Well,” said George reflectively, ”the boss is quite smart, too! Mrs.

Acton crowded you out of the gig. The boss says nothing, but he knocks off that blame Martial. That makes the thing even, and, unless he does it, none of them gets any fish. Now, it kind of seems to me that for a girl like Miss Hamilton to look at a man like Martial is a throwing of herself away. I guess it strikes you like that, too?”

This was rather too pointed a question for Nasmyth to answer, but, so far as it went, he could readily have agreed with the skipper. As a matter of fact it suggested the query why he should object to Miss Hamilton throwing herself away.

”Well,” he observed, ”I'm not quite sure that it's any concern of mine.”

George's grin was expressive of good-natured toleration. ”Oh!” he replied, ”I guess that's plain enough for me. You're not going to talk about the boss's friends. Still, one man's as good as another in this country, and, if I wasn't way better than Martial, I'd drown myself.

That's the kind of pernicious insect a decent man has no use for.

What's he come on board for with three bags ram full of clothes, when many a better man humps his outfit up and down the Bush in an old blanket same as you have done? It's a sure thing that no man with a conscience wants to get into the land agency business. It's an inst.i.tution for selling greensuckers ranching land that's rock and gravel and virgin forest. Besides, I heard the blame insect telling Miss Hamilton that n.o.body not raised in the hog-pen could drink my coffee.”

It seemed to Nasmyth that there was a little reason in the skipper's observations, though he thought that Martial's strictures upon the coffee accounted for most of them.

”I guess it might have been wiser if Martial had kept on good terms with the skipper,” he laughingly rejoined.

George chuckled softly. ”Well,” he declared, ”when anyone up and says my coffee's only fit for the hog-pen, I'm going to get even with him.

I kind of feel I have to. It's up to me.”

He said nothing further for some little time, and Nasmyth, who fancied that he would sooner or later carry out his amiable intentions, lay p.r.o.ne upon the deck smoking placidly. Nasmyth was one who adapted himself to his environment with readiness, and on board the _Tillic.u.m_ the environment was particularly comfortable. Through Acton's hospitality, he was brought into contact with the luxuries of civilization without the galling restraints. Miss Hamilton had been gracious to him of late. That was a cause for satisfaction in itself.

The days when he swung the heavy axe, or, drenched with icy water, stood gripping the drill had slipped far away behind him. For the time, at least, he could bask in the suns.h.i.+ne with ears stopped against the shrill trumpet-call to action that he had heard in the crash of rent trees and the turmoil of the wild flood.

A faint cry came from the sh.o.r.e out of the stillness of the woods, and George listened carefully.

”That can't be the boss. Guess he's stopping at the hotel,” he said.