Northwest! Part 32

"It is not all," Jimmy declared. "When we went up the hill in the evening, I asked you to marry me and you promised----"

"I promised we would talk about it," said Margaret. "Before you start from Peter's we will do so; but since you must start soon, we'll go on."

Jimmy saw he could not move her, and they went down the hill. At the ranch fence a man met them and took them to the house. When they went in a woman got up, kissed Margaret, and gave Jimmy a smile. So far as he could see, Mrs. Jardine and her husband did not think it strange he had arrived with Margaret, and he was somewhat comforted, although he noted that Margaret's color rose. Margaret knew her relations. They were primitive, honest folk, and took it for granted Jimmy was her lover.

"Sit right down. Dinner will soon be ready," said Peter Jardine. "How's the old man? Give us your news."

Jimmy narrated his and Margaret's adventures and, until he stopped, his hosts said nothing. It did not look as if they were disturbed, but they were bush folk and the bush is quiet. For all that, Jimmy felt they owned themselves Margaret's relations and for her sake were willing to help him out.

"The trapper's old shack is the spot for you," Peter remarked. "After dinner we'll start. Margaret must stay with us."

Margaret agreed, but Jimmy objected.

"Margaret is going with me to the Mission. The police will soon arrive."

"I reckon they don't know her, and they don't know how many womenfolk I've got. When she puts on Sadie's clothes, she'll look as if she belonged to the ranch. Maybe the police haven't found your trail; but we mustn't bet on that."

Margaret went off with Sadie and Jimmy speculated about their talk. By and by he turned to his host.

"I'm going to marry your cousin when she is willing."

"Sure," said Peter. "You reckoned to get married at the Mission?"

"That is so. So far, Margaret refuses."

Peter knitted his brows. "Sometimes I don't see what Sadie gets after and I sure can't calculate Margaret's notion. Women beat me. All the same, it's plain she thinks you a white man, and Margaret's not a fool.

Now we'll let it go. Say, did you plug the warden?"

"It looks like that," Jimmy replied. "However, if I did hit the fellow, I didn't know I was shooting at a man."

"Very well! You can't get down the main track to the coast, because the police will reckon on your going there and watch the stations. I'd make for the plains and then shove south for Montana."

"That was Stannard's plan."

Peter smiled scornfully. "You were to cross the rocks and carry your grub and camping truck? Shucks! An old-time prospector might make it; you could not. You've got to lie up at the trapper's shack until we look about. Maybe we can fix it to s.h.i.+p you out of the mountains on board a construction train that sometimes runs down to a station on the Calgary side. Well, let's make our packs and catch the horse."

They got to work and after the horse was caught, Peter turned back to the house, but Jimmy stopped. "I must talk to Margaret for a few minutes," he said.

Margaret came out to him. Her look was quiet but he knew her resolute.

"When dinner's over, Peter and I must start," he said. "You refused to go to the Mission. I want to know what this implies."

Margaret gave him a level glance. "Isn't it plain, Jimmy? You know my father, and now you have met my relations. They are not your sort."

"So far as I know, they're a remarkably good sort," Jimmy rejoined.

"Besides, in a way, I am their sort. My grandfather was a mill hand; my father borrowed a small sum, and started with cheap machinery to spin cotton at a little old-fas.h.i.+oned mill. He was frugal and laborious; in fact, he prospered because he had your bushman's qualities. I have loafed and squandered, but after a time I felt I'd had enough and began to see I'd inherited something from the people who made Leyland's go.

Then, if we must talk about our relations, you don't know my uncle d.i.c.k.

Well, I've stated something like this before, but it's my reply to your argument."

"But you mean to go back to Lancas.h.i.+re, and when you marry your wife ought----"

"To begin with, I doubt if the police will allow me to go back. Then, if I can't get you, I don't want a wife!"

"Yet, not very long since, it looked as if you might be satisfied with Miss Stannard."

The blood came to Jimmy's skin, and to conquer his embarra.s.sment was hard.

"I don't think you're kind. Well, I'm young and, until I met Stannard, I was very raw. All I knew was the cotton mill, and I expect Laura carried me away. But I was not altogether a fool; Laura Stannard is a charming girl. The obstacle was, she saw I was not the man for her. Then I did not know you."

Margaret smiled, but her smile was gentle. "Perhaps I was not kind.

You're stanch and my experiment was shabby."

"Your remark was justified. Anyhow, it's not important. If I can cheat the police and get back to Lancas.h.i.+re, will you marry me, Margaret?"

For a few moments Margaret was quiet. Then she said in a steady voice: "Your cheating the police would not persuade me; in fact, somehow I think they will find out you had nothing to do with the warden's getting shot. The obstacle's not there. You are young, Jimmy, and you admitted you were carried away."

"One cannot carry you away," Jimmy rejoined.

"I must think for you and for myself," said Margaret and Jimmy's heart beat, because he saw her calm was forced. "Suppose your trustees did not approve your marrying a girl from the bush?"

"d.i.c.k Leyland might not approve; his habit's to be nasty, but mine's not to bother about d.i.c.k. Sir Jim is head of the house and he's human. I can't picture his not being altogether satisfied with you."

"But you don't know!"

Jimmy pondered. Margaret's firmness baffled him, but, from her point of view, he saw she took the proper line. All the same, it cost her something; she was highly strung, her color came and went, and her tight mouth was significant. The trouble was, he dared not urge her very hard. In the meantime, he must hide from the police and might be sent to the chain-gang.

"I want you, my dear," he said. "I'm selfish. If you marry me, I run no risk, but you may run some. My drawbacks are rather numerous, particularly just now."

"Very well," said Margaret. "When you come back from the mountains, I may perhaps agree. But your relations must approve and I don't yet engage----"

Jimmy advanced, but she stepped back and stopped him. Then he turned and saw Mrs. Jardine wave to them from the stoop.

Dinner was a melancholy function, and Jimmy thought his hosts disturbed.

They were Margaret's relations and for her sake were willing to help, but he pictured Mrs. Jardine's weighing the risk. Then he was bothered about Margaret, for Peter's confidence that his wife could bluff the police if they arrived before he returned did not banish his doubts.

At length Mrs. Jardine got up and Peter and Jimmy went to load the horse. By and by the rancher ran back for some tobacco and Jimmy moodily fastened the pack-rope. Stooping by the horse, he thought he heard a step, but did not look up, and a few moments afterwards he felt a hand on his shoulder. Then an arm went around his neck and Margaret turned his head and kissed him. He tried to seize her, but she slipped away and stopped a yard or two off. Jimmy thrilled and his eyes sparkled.

"Now I know when I come back you won't refuse me."

"You don't know; I don't know," Margaret replied in a trembling voice.

"All the same, I love you, and you're going away----"

Peter and Mrs. Jardine came out. The rancher seized the bridle and called to the horse. Jimmy lifted his battered hat and they started across the clearing.

Three days afterwards, they stopped at a small stone hut, built against the bottom of a great rock. On one side dark pines rolled up to the walls, and a hundred yards off one could hardly see the pile of stones was a building. Yet the small room was rudely furnished and the earth floor was dry. They cut some wood, made a fire, and cooked food, and after the meal lighted their pipes.

"You have got an ax and a rifle, but if you run out of grub, Graham, the section-hand on the railroad will put me wise," said Peter. "Tom's a white man and his post's not far from the spot we crossed the line. The trapper who lived here is dead and I reckon n.o.body but Tom and me knows about the shack."