The Lure of the North Part 24

"I knew you had grit. But I want you to understand! I wouldn't give you five cents to help you find the lode, but you'll go broke on ten dollars long before your next pay's due. Better take this; it may help you out."

Agatha took the envelope, but as she began to open it the rig stopped at the gate, and George put his hand on her shoulder.

"We mustn't keep Farnam; wait until I've gone," he said and kissed her.

"I'm not going to wish you good luck, but if you have trouble with the school people when you get back, come along and stop with Florence. I'll interview the managers, and, if needful, find you another job."

He hurried off, and when the rattle of wheels died away Agatha opened the envelope and found a check for a hundred dollars. She felt moved, but smiled. The gift was generous, but the way he had made it was very like George.

Three days afterwards, Farnam and his wife drove her to the railroad and she felt a pang at leaving them when the cars rolled in. The excitement of starting, however, helped her over an awkward few minutes, and she found a girl on the train who wanted to talk. Besides, it was evening, and after an hour or two the colored porter lighted the lamps and told her her berth was ready. She slept well, for it was too late to give way to misgivings now, and soon after she rose next morning the train stopped at the station where she must get down.

The conductor threw her baggage out upon the line. The locomotive bell tolled, the cars went on, and Agatha's heart sank as she glanced about.

It was early morning and thin mist drifted among the pines. There was no platform, but a small wooden shack with an iron roof stood beside the rails, which ran into the forest a hundred yards off. The agent, after gruffly asking for her checks, vanished into his office and banged the door. There was n.o.body else about, and the place was very quiet except for the murmur of running water.

A narrow clearing, strewn with ashes and dotted by blackened stumps, ran along the track, and at its end were three or four shabby frame houses.

A rudely painted board on one stated that the building was the Strathcona Hotel. Agatha felt very forlorn. Except for a week or two with Thirlwell, and once with a band of merry companions at a summer camp she had not seen the rugged bush, and now it daunted her. She was not going on a pleasure excursion, from which she could return when she liked, but to push far into the lonely wilds. She had done with civilization until she came back; it could not help her when she left the railroad. She must live and struggle with savage Nature as the prospectors and half-breeds did. But this was not all; she had, perhaps, cut herself off from other things than the comfort and security that civilization offered.

Mabel Farnam's warning was, no doubt, justified. It was possible that the school managers would dismiss her and she would be unable to get another scholastic post. She might have to give up her occupation and although she disliked business earn a frugal living as a clerk. Her face got hot as she remembered Mabel's statement that her rashness had given her friends a jar; but in one sense Mabel was wrong. She had not been rash; she knew she could trust Thirlwell and the men he hired. There was nothing to fear from them. Still she had made a bold plunge that might cost her much, and now the reaction had begun she felt slack and dispirited. The plunge, however, was made; she must carry out what she had undertaken, and it was foolish to indulge her doubts. She tried to pull herself together and in a few minutes a man led a team out of the hotel stable.

He leisurely harnessed the lean horses to a very dirty wagon and then drove them across the clearing to the track, where he stopped in front of Agatha's baggage. She noted that his skin was very brown and he had coa.r.s.e black hair. The overalls he wore were very ragged.

"Mees Strange?" he said. "Dat your truck?"

Agatha said it was, and jumping down he threw her bag and some rough wooden boxes into the wagon. Then he climbed back up the wheel and held out his hand.

"_Montez. Allons, en route!_"

Agatha got up with some trouble and when she sat down on a board that crossed the vehicle he cracked his whip and the wagon, rocking wildly, rolled away among the stumps and plunged into a narrow trail chopped out of the bush.

"Eet is long way; we mak' breakfast by and by," he said. "Thirlwell wait at portage. We arrive to-night, _si tout va bien_."

Agatha said nothing, but felt somewhat comforted as they jolted along the uneven trail.

CHAPTER XXI

THE WILDERNESS

Dusk was falling and the tired horses plodded slowly past the rows of shadowy trunks when the sound of running water came out of the gloom.

Agatha ached from the jolting and felt cramped and sleepy, but she roused herself when a light began to flicker among the trees. The driver urged his team, the light got brighter as the rig lurched down a rough incline, and Agatha saw a man standing in the trail. His figure was indistinct and she could not see his face, but she no longer felt jaded and lonely, for she knew who he was.

"Tired?" he said in a sympathetic voice as he gave her his hand to get down when the rig stopped in an opening. "It's a long ride from the railroad, but after all it was better for you to make it in the day.

Besides, we must pull out to-morrow."

Agatha said she was not excessively tired. She liked his matter-of-fact manner and thought he had struck the right note.

"Have you got the tent I recommended?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "It's in the small box."

"Then as the poles are cut, the boys will soon put it up. In the meantime, supper's ready."

He took her across the narrow open s.p.a.ce, and when near the fire she stopped and looked about. It was after ten o'clock, but a pale-green glow shone above the pines, whose ragged tops cut against it in a black saw-edge. Below, a river brawled among dark rocks, catching a reflection here and there, and then plunging into shadow. It was not dark; she could see the brush and the wild-berry vines that crawled between the trunks. Then she turned towards the fire that burned at the foot of a ledge. Two or three figures moved about the rocks behind it; sometimes picked out with hard distinctness so that she could see their brown faces and travel-stained overalls, and sometimes fading into gloom.

The smoke went nearly straight up and then spread slowly across the river; the flames leaped among the snapping branches and sank. Strong lights and puzzling shadows played about the camp; there was an aromatic smell, and the air was keen and bracing. The turmoil of the river rather emphasized than disturbed the quietness. It was different from the noisy city where the big arc-lights burned above the hurrying crowds, but Agatha did not find it strange. She felt as if she were revisiting a scene she had known before, and thought this was an inheritance from her father, who had loved the wilds. But perhaps she might go further back; it was, relatively, not long since all Ontario was a wilderness, and she sprang from pioneering stock.

Then Thirlwell indicated a folding chair and she sat down beside two logs, rolled close together to make a cooking hearth. A kettle and two frying-pans stood on the logs, supported by both, and the s.p.a.ce between was filled with glowing embers, about which flickered little blue and orange flames. Thirlwell gave her a plate and a tin mug, and she found the fresh trout and hot bannocks appetizing. Then she liked the acid wild-berries he brought on a bark tray, and the strong, smoke-flavored tea. She smiled as she remembered that in Toronto she had been fastidious about her meals and sometimes could not eat food that was roughly-served.

When supper was over Thirlwell sat on one of the hearth-logs and lighted his pipe. Agatha was pleased that he did so. While they were in the bush their relations must be marked by an informal friendliness, as if she were a comrade and partner and not a girl. Anything that hinted at the difference in their s.e.x must be avoided.

"You'll get used to camp-life in a few days," he remarked by and by. "At first I expect you'll find it a change from, the cities. Things are rudimentary in the bush."

"Nothing jars, except the mosquitoes," Agatha replied. "I have no sense of strangeness; in fact, I feel as if I had been here before and belonged to the woods."

"After, all, you do know something about them. I think you said you had camped in the timber."

"That was different. It was a summer camp, organized by the railroad, and supplied with modern comforts. You bought a ticket and a gasolene launch took you up the lake. Then the men wore smart flannels and the girls new summer clothes. In the evenings one sang and played a banjo, another a mandolin."

Thirlwell laughed. "You don't like music?"

"I love it; but not ragtime and modern c.o.o.n songs in the bush. No doubt the people who went there had earned a holiday, but it would have been different had they gone to fish or hunt. They went to loaf, play noisy games, and flirt. Indeed, I used to think we jarred as much as the horrible dump of old fruit and meat cans among the willows."

"I think I know what you mean. Man makes ugly marks on the wilderness unless he goes to farm. A mine, for example, is remarkably unpicturesque."

"But it stands for endeavor, for something useful done."

"Not all mines. A number stand for wasted money."

"And vanished hopes," said Agatha. "Do you think I shall find the lode?

I want you to be frank."

Thirlwell hesitated. "On the whole, I don't think so, but my judgment mayn't be sound and my employer, Scott, does not agree. Anyway, I'll help you all I can."

For a moment or two Agatha studied him. His face was brown and rather thin and had a hint of quiet force; his easy pose was graceful but virile. Somehow he did not clash with the austerity of the woods; nor did the other men, who now sat, smoking, round the larger fire. Agatha liked their quietness, their slow, drawling speech and tranquil movements. She knew she could trust Thirlwell, but remembering a remark of Mabel Farnam's, she asked herself why he had offered his help. She could find no satisfactory answer and thought it better to leave the puzzle alone.

"But you are doubtful," she said. "Confidence is a strong driving force."

"In a way, that's true," he agreed. "Still it sometimes drives you into mistakes, and when you get to work in the right way it doesn't matter much if you're confident or not. Your feelings can't alter Nature's laws. If you know how the vein dips, you can strike the ore; if you sink the shot-hole right, and use enough powder, you split the rock."

"It's obvious that you are a materialist."

"I'm a mining engineer," Thirlwell rejoined with a smile.

Agatha gave him a quiet, friendly look. "It's lucky I have you to help, because I could not have gone far alone. I've studied Nature's laws in the laboratory, but in the bush she works on another scale. There's a difference between a blow-pipe flame and the subterranean fires. Now if I don't find the ore, it will be some comfort to know that I have properly tried." She glanced at her wrist-watch and got up. "It is later than I thought!"

"Your tent is ready," Thirlwell replied.