Part 28 (1/2)

He was a reckless stripling with a certain grace of manner which he could scarcely have acquired in the ranks of the Northwest Police, though men whose family name is well known in the older country occasionally join that service for reasons which they do not as a rule explain. He was comely, and he not infrequently loitered at the bakery, even when he was supposed to be elsewhere at his duty. It happened that he stood there one Sat.u.r.day afternoon, watching Hetty Leger with undisguised appreciation, when there was n.o.body else about. He had perhaps chosen that particular time because Leger, who had shown that he did not approve of him, was at the mine; but there were smears of flour upon his uniform which suggested what his occupation had been.

Hetty, who rather liked the lad, looked distinctly pretty just then, as, with sleeves rolled to the elbow, she moulded a loaf for the oven. The bush was very still, and it was pleasantly cool in the shadow of the pines, which rolled in sombre ranks down the face of the hill. It was, perhaps, unfortunate that Hetty smiled as she held out the bread.

”You can put this loaf in and seal up the oven if you're very good,” she said.

Probyn seized the loaf somewhat clumsily, so that in steadying it Hetty's fingers left an impression on the plastic dough.

”Now,” said Probyn gravely, ”that ought to make it worth another ten dollars to anybody.”

”Would you think it worth all that?”

”A hundred,” said Probyn, ”would not be too much. I'd buy the thing now only, unfortunately, I haven't a coin of any kind by me. There are, you see, a good many disadvantages attached to being a police trooper.”

”Are there?” said Hetty. ”Then why did you become one, and what would you have liked to be?”

”That,” answered the lad, with a trace of dryness, ”is neither here nor there.” Then his eyes twinkled again. ”A baker! Couldn't you give me that loaf on credit--to keep forever?”

”I certainly couldn't. Besides, you would eat it the first time you were hungry. Hold it still while I make it smooth again!”

She did it with dainty little pats, and the lad watched her, openly appreciative, with his head on one side, for her pose and the movements of arm and shoulder effectively displayed a prettily moulded figure.

”There's a little bit you have left out. Hadn't you better go round it again?” he said.

It was, perhaps, not altogether wise of Hetty to laugh provokingly as she glanced at him; but she was young, and masculine approbation was no more distasteful to her than it is to most young women. She also believed--as she had, indeed, once pointed out to Tom Leger--that, though Trooper Probyn had very little sense, there was not a grain of harm in him.

”Why? It's quite smooth enough,” she said.

”You do it so prettily. Of course, that's only what one would expect from a girl with a hand like that. The wrist runs into it so nicely, too. When some people try to work their wrists get red, you know.”

”Put the bread into the oven--now,” said Hetty severely.

The lad, who noticed a certain warning tone he had heard before, did as he was bidden, and luted up the door of the big clay-built oven. When he returned there was no longer any of Hetty's arm visible beneath her sleeve.

”It's getting late, and I have the boys' supper to look after,” she said significantly.

Probyn knew by the lengthening of the shadows that this was true, and he had still a long round to make; but he was a trifle more inconsequent than usual that afternoon, and in place of taking his departure leaned against a cedar.

”Well,” he said, ”I mean to stay a little. It's very pleasant here.”

The statement was perfectly warranted, for the sound of the river came up soothingly across the pines, and through openings between them one could see the tremendous ramparts of never-melting snow that cut cold and white against the blue. Hetty, too, standing with fluffy hair a trifle disordered, and with the sunlight streaming between the great branches upon her, was very alluring; but still, it was unfortunate that Trooper Probyn did not go. He was not aware that Tomlinson, who had had difficulties with the flume he was building, was just then coming up the hillside in a somewhat uncertain temper.

”You have been here quite an hour,” said Hetty.

”A year,” said Probyn, ”wouldn't be half enough for me. Now, I've a piece of news I hadn't the heart to tell you--and you'll try to be brave. Esmond is sending two or three of us South very shortly, and I'm very much afraid I will be one of them.”

”Is that all?” and Hetty laughed.

The lad looked at her reproachfully. ”You seem to bear up astonis.h.i.+ngly well. It will be different with me. You may even have married one of those miner fellows by the time I come back again.”

There was no apparent reason why the suggestion should drive the smile out of Hetty's eyes; but it certainly did; though Probyn did not notice her sudden change of mood.