The Greater Power Part 4

"I have," answered Nasmyth, with a little laugh. "I almost venture to think I do you credit, in view of the state I was in when I reached the ranch. If you hadn't taken me in hand, two or three days would probably have been the length of my stay."

The girl made no disclaimer. She was one who admitted facts, even when they did not chime with her wishes, and she still regarded Nasmyth thoughtfully. He certainly did her credit, so far as his physical appearance went, for his strength had fully come back to him, and, as he lay among the wineberries in an easy pose, his thin duck garments displayed the fine proportions of a figure that had been trained almost to muscular perfection by strenuous labour. The light of the paling sunset was on his bronzed face, and it revealed the elusive delicacy that characterized it. Nasmyth was certainly a well-favoured man, but there were respects in which his companion was not altogether satisfied with him. She had, as she admitted, restored him to bodily health, but, after all, that was only going so far, and she felt it was possible that she might accomplish a little more, though there was no very evident reason why she should wish to do so.

Still, she was conscious of the wish.

"I was wondering," she said, "how long you would be content to stay."

Nasmyth gazed at her in evident astonishment. "Stay!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, you can call it twenty years, if one must be precise."

"Ah!" replied Laura, "in one sense, that is an admission I'm not exactly pleased that you should make."

The man raised himself slowly, and his face became intent as he strove to grasp her meaning. He was not in the least astonished that she should speak to him as she did, for there are few distinctions drawn between the hired man and those who employ him on the Pacific slope, and he had discovered already that the girl was at least his equal in intelligence and education. In fact, he had now and then a suspicion that her views of life were broader than his. In the meanwhile it was in one respect gratifying to feel that she could be displeased at anything he might think or do.

"I'm not quite sure I see the drift of that," he said.

"You would be content to continue a ranch-hand indefinitely?"

"Why not?" Nasmyth asked, with a smile.

Laura once more looked at him with an almost disconcerting steadiness, and she had, as he was already aware, very fine eyes. She, however, noticed the suggestive delicacy of his face, which had, as it happened, more than once somewhat displeased her, and a certain languidness of expression, with which she had also grown almost impatient. This man, she had decided, was too readily acquiescent.

"That," she continued, "is rather a big question, isn't it?"

"Ah!" said Nasmyth reflectively. "Now I begin to understand. Well, I don't mind admitting that I once had ambitions and the means of gratifying them, as well as an optimistic belief in myself. That, however, was rudely shattered when the means were withdrawn, and a man very soon learns of how little account he is in Western Canada. Why shouldn't I be content to live as the ranch-hands do, especially when it's tolerably evident that I can't do anything else?"

"You are forgetting that most of them were born to it. That counts for a good deal. Have you noticed how far some of the others drift?" A faint trace of heightened colour crept into her cheeks. "Perhaps one couldn't blame them when they have once acquired the whisky habit and a Siwash wife."

Nasmyth lay very still for a few moments, resting on one elbow among the wineberries, for she had, after all, only suggested a question that had once or twice troubled him. It was, however, characteristic of him that he had temporized, and, though he knew it must be answered some day, had thrust it aside.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "you want to send me away. Now, I had almost fancied I had made things easier in various ways for you, and we have been good comrades, haven't we? One could call it that?"

"Yes," agreed Laura slowly; "I think one could call it that."

"Then," returned Nasmyth, "why do you want me to go?"

It was difficult to answer, and, to begin with, Laura did not exactly know she desired him to leave the ranch--in fact, she was willing to admit that there were several reasons why she wished him to stay.

Still, perhaps because she had watched over him in his sickness, and, so Gordon said, had s.n.a.t.c.hed him back to life again, she had a certain pride in him, and vaguely felt that. In one sense, he belonged to her.

She would not have him throw away the life she had saved, and she had recognized, as many of his English friends had not, the perilously acquiescent side of his character. He was, she feared, one who had an unfortunate apt.i.tude for drifting.

"That," she said, "is rather more than I could explain either to myself or to you, but I will tell you something. They are going to build the pulp-mill down the valley, and they are now asking for tenders for the construction of the dam. The thing, I have heard, is not big enough to interest contractors from the cities, and most of the men round here have their hands full with their ranches."

Nasmyth became a trifle more intent. "Still," he remarked, "I have never built a dam."

"You told me you were rather a good chopper, and I think you are. You have made roads, too, and know how to handle giant-powder in the rock-cutting, and how to use the drill."

"There are shoals of men in this country who know considerably more about those things than I do."

Laura made a little impatient gesture. "Yes," she admitted, "there are, but they are simple Bushmen for the most part; and does intellect count for nothing at all? Are a trained understanding and a quick comprehension of no use when one builds a dam?"

Nasmyth frowned, though she saw a little glow kindle in his eyes. "I'm by no means sure that I possess any of those desirable qualities.

Besides, there's a rather serious objection--that of finance."

Then Laura Waynefleet made it clear that she had considered the question, and she favoured the man with a glimpse of the practical side of her character.

"The stores give long credit, and partial payments are generally made as a work of that kind goes on. Then it is not a very unusual thing for workmen to wait for their wages until the contract is carried through."

Nasmyth lay still for at least another minute. He had gradually lost his ambition during the few years he had wandered through the Bush of British Columbia. The aimless life was often hard, but it had its compensations, and he had learned to value its freedom from responsibility and care. When he did not like a task he had undertaken, he simply left it and went on again. Still, he had had misgivings now and then when he noticed how far some of his comrades had drifted. Presently he rose slowly to his feet.

"Well," he said, "you're right, I think, and, if I'm given an opportunity, I'll undertake the thing. The credit will be yours if I'm successful."

The girl rose. "Then," she admonished, with a faint smile, "don't tell me that you have failed."

She turned away and left him somewhat abruptly, but Nasmyth did not resume his fis.h.i.+ng, though he could hear the big trout splas.h.i.+ng in the pool as the sunset light faded off the water. He lay down among the wineberries, which were scattered among the glossy leaves like little drops of blood, to think harder than he had thought for a considerable time. An hour ago, as he had told Laura Waynefleet, he would have been well content to stay on at the ranch, and, though she had roused him, he knew that it would cost him an effort to leave it.

He was not, he fancied, in love with her. Indeed, he now and then admitted that she would probably look for more from the man who won her favour than there was in him, but the camaraderie--he could think of no better word for it--that had existed between them had been very pleasant to him.

He realized that he was in one sense hers to dispose of. She had, in all probability, saved his life, and now she was endeavouring to arouse his moral responsibility. She was sending him out to play a man's part in the battle of life. He admitted that he had shrunk from it, of late, or, at least, had been content to sink back among the rank and file. He had made the most of things, but that, he was beginning to realize, was, after all, a somewhat perilous habit. Laura Waynefleet evidently considered that a resolute attempt to alter conditions was more becoming than to accept them, even though one was likely to be injured while making it. He heard footsteps, and, looking up, saw Gordon sit down upon the cedar-log.

"I came to look at Wiston's hand, and walked across when I heard that Waynefleet hadn't been about," he explained. "I don't think you need feel any particular anxiety about your employer."

Nasmyth grinned at this. Waynefleet had spent part of one day chopping a big balsam, and was apparently feeling the effects of the very unusual exertion. Then Gordon took out his pipe.

"I guess you're fis.h.i.+ng?" he observed.

"I came here to get a trout for breakfast."

"You look like it." Gordon smiled. "As it happened, I saw Miss Waynefleet crossing the clearing. It occurs to me that she may have said something that set you thinking."

"I wonder," said Nasmyth reflectively, "what made you fancy that?"

Gordon regarded him with a little twinkle in his eyes. "Well," he replied, "I have the honour of Miss Waynefleet's acquaintance, and have some little knowledge of her habits."

Men make friends with one another quickly in the Western forests, and Nasmyth had acquired a curious confidence in his companion, in spite of the story Gordon had told him. As the result of this he related part, at least, of what the girl had said. Gordon nodded.

"It's quite likely you'll get that contract if you apply for it. The folks about the settlement haven't sent an offer in," he said. "The notion is naturally Miss Waynefleet's. It's the kind of thing that would appeal to her, and, in a way, it's fortunate you have fallen into her hands. She's one of the protesters."

"The protesters?"

"Yes," answered Gordon; "I can't think of a better name for them, though it doesn't exactly convey all I mean. To make the thing a little clearer, we'll take the other kind--in this country they're best typified by the Indians. The Siwash found it a wilderness, and made the most of it as such. They took their toll of the salmon, and fed their ponies on the natural prairie gra.s.s. If we'd left it to them for centuries it would have remained a wilderness. We came, and found Nature omnipotent, but we challenged her--drove the steel road down the great canon to bring us provisions in, d.y.k.ed the swamp meadows, ploughed up the forest, and rent the hills. We made our protest, and, quite often, it was no more than that, for the rivers were too strong for us, and the Bush crept back upon our little clearings. Still, we never let go, and it's becoming evident that we have done more than hold our own."

He paused, and laughed in a deprecatory fas.h.i.+on before he went on again. "Now and then I have an outbreak of this kind," he added lightly. "The thing would make an epic, but, if one could write it, it wouldn't be worth while. The protest that counts in this land is made with the axe and drill."

The outbreak was comprehensible, for it must be remembered that the average Westerner, either by birth or adoption, is seldom a reticent man. He is, in fact, usually characterized by a daring optimism, and not infrequently filled to overflowing with the clean pride of achievement. One can hear this new-world enthusiasm bubble over on public platforms and at brilliant functions, as well as in second-rate saloons, but it is most forcibly expressed where men toil waist-deep in icy water building d.y.k.e and dam, or blast their waggon roads out of the side of the gloomy canons. Their handiwork is not always beautiful, but one wonders to see what they have made of that great desolation.

Nasmyth lay still among the wineberries, for a minute or two, and, though a cold green transparency had replaced the fires of sunset behind the tall trunks now, and the trout were splas.h.i.+ng furiously in the pool, he forgot all about the rod beside him as he pondered over a question which had often occurred to him.

"How is it that Miss Waynefleet is content to stay here?" he asked.

"You would hardly expect her to leave her father."