The Rapids Part 15

"You not going to tell any one I find iron. You swear that or I kill you here."

The constable's brain began to rock giddily. Fisette in his present condition would not hesitate to kill. He knew that. "I swear it," he panted unsteadily, "on my honor."

Fisette bared his white teeth. "Your honor no good. You swear by G.o.d and the Mother of G.o.d."

Manson repeated it, his breath coming more steadily. He had been near death, but as he stared at his conqueror he felt a contemptuous pity for him. Fisette had moved away and was fumbling in his pockets.

Presently he looked up. "You got a match?"

Manson searched, while his relaxing muscles trembled like quicksilver.

He found a match and held it out.

"Now go to h.e.l.l!" said the half-breed calmly, and recommenced the ritual of smoke.

XI.--CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION, ALSO HIS DIRECTORS

The j.a.panese cook pottered softly about in the square stone bas.e.m.e.nt of the blockhouse, while, up above, his master sat at a table with his eyes fixed on a small mountain of blackish-gray rock. He had given orders to admit none. Fingering the pointed fragments he experienced more emotion than ever before in his kaleidoscopic life. He sat in profound contemplation of that which prehistoric and elemental fires had laid down for his use. There was in his mind no question of strangeness that it should be himself who had decided that the thing was there and must be unearthed. It was the turning of another page in the book of his own history, the beginning of that chapter which would be the most fascinating of all.

Methodically he searched his retentive brain for data about iron ore.

It existed in Pennsylvania and Alabama and New York, and, nearer still, there was the great field of Northern Michigan. But in Canada there were only the distant mines of Nova Scotia. He unrolled a great geological map and pored over it, finding here, as always, the greatest fascination. Within two miles of St. Marys there was an inexhaustible supply of limestone. He stared at the map with a queer but quite inflexible consciousness that this moment was the one he had awaited for years and his faith had not betrayed him. He got up with sudden restlessness and stood at the window. The rapids sounded clearly, but his mind was not on them. Looking to the west he saw the sky stabbed with the red streaks of flame from converters that were yet to be, and ranks of black steel stacks and the rounded shoulders of great furnaces silhouetted against the horizon. He heard the rumble of a mill that rolled out steel rails and, over it all, perceived a canopy of smoke that drifted far out on the clear, cold waters of the lake. He remembered with a smile that his directors would shortly arrive, and worked out for their visit a program totally unlike that they had mapped out for themselves. Last of all he went to the piano and played to himself. At any rate, he reflected, he would be known as the man who created the iron and steel industry in the district of Algoma. And that was satisfying to Clark.

Still feeling strangely restless, he moved again to the window, and just then Elsie and Belding walked slowly past the blockhouse toward the tiny Hudson Bay lock. Involuntarily he tapped on the pane. They both looked up and he beckoned. When they mounted to the living room, he met them with a smile.

Elsie glanced about with intense interest. She had been there once before, but with a group of visitors. This occasion seemed more intimate. She surveyed Clark a little breathlessly and with an overwhelming sensation that here was the nerve center of this whole gigantic enterprise. Belding felt a shade awkward as he caught the glance of the gray eyes.

"Sit down and have some coffee." Clark clapped his hands softly and the j.a.panese cook emerged from below. Presently their host began to talk with a certain comfortable ease that gave the girl a new glimpse of what the man might really be.

"The directors are coming up this week--that means more work for you, Belding."

The engineer nodded. Then the other man went on with the fluent confidence of one who knows the world. Persia, India, Russia,--he had been everywhere.

"But what brought you here, Mr. Clark?" put in the girl presently. Her eyes were very bright.

He turned to her: "What would you say?"

"Was it destiny?" she answered slowly.

"Yes," he replied with sudden gravity and a strange look at her bright eyes, "I think it was destiny."

Her heart beat more rapidly, and from Clark her glance moved to Belding who sat a little awkwardly. There was not more than fifteen years between them but Clark's face had that peculiarly ageless appearance which characterizes some men and lends them additional interest.

"And now you'll stay?" added Elsie.

"Don't you think there's enough to keep me?"

Belding roused himself with a chuckle but Clark went on thoughtfully.

"Do you see much change in St. Marys in the last few years?"

"Before you came," she said slowly, "it was just--just Arcadia."

"Are you sorry to say good-by to Arcadia?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Not a bit; I am glad it's over, but I remember father often talking about the old days long before any of us were here. First there were just the Indians, and then the Jesuit priests. They used to paddle up the Ottawa River to Lake Nip.i.s.sing and then down the French River to the Georgian Bay, and so up Lake Huron round the rapids and on into Lake Superior. After them came the traders and then the Hudson Bay Company, but," she concluded a little apologetically, "you know all about that."

"Yes, I know, and now what do the people of St. Marys think about the works? Eh, Belding, what do you say?"

"They don't think very much, sir--they've got into the way of taking them for granted."

Clark laughed. "I think I know that too. But you don't take me for granted?" Here he glanced provocatively at Elsie.

The girl recovered herself with difficulty. She was only twenty-one, but beside this wizard it struck her that Belding looked immature.

Clark had seized on her imagination. He was the dreamer and the prophet and as well a great builder under whose hands marvelous things took shape. Now she was filled with a sudden and delightful confusion, and Belding, watching her, remembered the night they had floated opposite the blockhouse while Clark's music drifted across the unruffled water. He felt good for his own job, but very helpless against the mesmeric fascination that the older man might exert if he would. And behind all this moved his intense loyalty and great admiration for his chief.

"Then St. Marys has produced all you hoped for, Mr. Clark?" said Elsie.

"I not only hoped but believed and worked." The answer was vibrant and steady. "Hope doesn't do very much nowadays without belief and work."

He glanced at the piano. "Won't you play something?"

She blushed and shook her head. "No, please do yourself."

"I don't play in public and I never had a lesson in my life."

"But this isn't public," she countered; "I think it's--well--rather private."

He laughed, went to the piano and his fingers began to explore the keys. The others sat motionless. Elsie's eyes were fixed, not on Clark but on Belding, and in them was an unanswered question. The music was not anything she knew but the chords were compelling and she perceived in them that which this strange personality could not or did not put into words--his hopes, his courage, his inflexible will and the deep note of his power. Suddenly she recognized in him a lonely man.

Her heart went out and her eyes filled with tears. Presently he looked over his shoulder.

"The G.o.ds are good to me to-day."

"Yes?" Her voice was very uncertain.

"I've found something for which I've been looking for years past."

Belding's brows furrowed. There was that in Clark's manner which baffled him. Elsie seemed more than ever dainty and desirable in this unusual setting. Had Clark seen this too?

"I'm so glad." The girl's eyes were very soft.

The two went home rather silently. Elsie seemed to be in a dream, and Belding had no words for that which now worked poisonously in his brain, but just so often as he yielded to the sharp pang of jealousy just so often did his faith in his chief rise in protest.

The engineer had seen Clark in many moods and under many circ.u.mstances.

There were times when only the driving force of the man had pulled things through, and he was transformed into an agency that worked its invincible will. There was another thing. So far as Belding knew, Clark had no links, sentimental or otherwise, with the rest of the world. No whisper had come from outside regarding his past, and it was only when he himself talked that any light was thrown upon his former years. He seemed, in consequence, to be enviably free and ready for anything. Unfettered by tradition or a.s.sociation, he was a pendulum, balanced to swing potently in either direction. And what darkened Belding's horizon was the thought that Clark, at any moment, might swing toward Elsie Worden.

Two miles away, Fisette was at home with his children. He was tired but in no way worn out, and in his pocket was one single piece of ore kept as a souvenir. Clark's check lay safely deposited in the bank and the halfbreed's teeth gleamed when he thought of the mortgage. It was only a thousand dollars. Therese, four years and three days old, was on his knee. They were all very happy, though only Fisette knew exactly why. With eyes half closed, he contentedly examined the cracks in the big iron box stove and, since the night was cool, stuffed in more wood. It was in the back of his head that he had done what so many men had failed to do, and soon, when Monsieur Clark gave the word, he would be known as the man who had found iron in Algoma.

At the big jail, halfway between Fisette and Clark, Manson sat at his desk in his little square office. He was very sore and very stiff, and however savage he might feel about his defeat he could not but admire the fierce loyalty of the halfbreed. It was what he would have liked one of his own men to do. Now, however he might ache, he had a glow in every strained joint. There was iron in Algoma and not far from St.