The Secret of the Reef

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER XIII--THE REPULSE

  The night was dark and the road bad, and Clay leaned forward in thelurching car, looking fixedly ahead. The glare of the headlamp flickeredacross wagon ruts and banks of tall fern that bordered the uneven track,while here and there the base of a great fir trunk flashed suddenly outof the enveloping darkness and passed. Where the bush was thinnest, Claycould see the tiny wineberries glimmer red in the rushing beam of light,but all above was wrapped in impenetrable gloom. They were travelingvery fast through a deep woods, but the road ran straight and roughlylevel, and talking was possible.

  "You had trouble in the city lately. How did it begin?" Clay asked thedriver. "I'm a stranger, and know only what's in your papers."

  "The boys thought too many Japs were coming in," the man replied. "Theycorralled most of the salmon netting, and when there was talk aboutprices being cut, the white men warned them to quit."

  He broke off as the car dropped into a hole, and it was a few momentslater when Clay spoke.

  "The Japs wouldn't go?"

  "No, sir; they allowed they meant to hold their job; and the boys didn'tmake a good show when they tried to chase them off. Then, as they weregetting other work into their hands, the trouble spread. The city'ssurely full of foreigners."

  "You had a pretty big row a day or two ago."

  "We certainly had," the driver agreed, and added, after a pause duringwhich he avoided a deep rut, "The boys had fixed it up to run everyblamed Asiatic out of the place."

  "I understand they weren't able to carry their program out?"

  "That's so. I've no use for Japs, but I'll admit they put up a goodfight. Wherever the boys made a rush there was a bunch of them ready.You couldn't take that crowd by surprise. Then they shifted back andforward and slung men into the row just where they were wanted most.Fought like an army, and the boys hadn't made much of it when the policewhipped both crowds off."

  "Looks like good organization," Clay remarked. "It's useful to know whatyou mean to do before you make a start. Have the boys tried to run offthose who are working at the outside mills?"

  "Not yet, but we're expecting something of the kind. They'd whip them inbunches if they tried that plan."

  This was what Clay feared; it was the method he would have used had heled the strikers. When a general engagement is risky, one might win bycrushing isolated forces; and Aynsley's mill was particularly open toattack. It stood at some distance from both Vancouver and NewWestminster, and any help that could be obtained from the civicauthorities would probably arrive too late. There was, however, reasonto believe that the aliens employed must have recognized their danger,and perhaps guarded against it. Clay knew something about Japs andChinamen, and had a high respect for their sagacity.

  He asked no more questions, and as the state of the road confined thedriver's attention to his steering, nothing was said as they sped onthrough the dark. Sometimes they swept across open country wherestraggling split-fences streamed back to them in the headlamps' glareand a few stars shone mistily overhead. Sometimes they raced through thegloom beside a bluff, where dark fir branches stretched across the roadand a sweet, resinous fragrance mingled with the smell of dew-dampeddust. The car was traveling faster than was safe, but Clay frownedimpatiently when he tried to see his watch. It was characteristic thatalthough he was keenly anxious he offered the driver no extra bribe toincrease the pace. He seldom lost his judgment, and the possibility ofsaving a few minutes was offset by the danger of their not arriving atall.

  Presently they plunged into another wood. It seemed very thick by theway the hum of the engine throbbed among the trees, but outside theflying beam of the lamps all was wrapped in darkness. Clay was flungviolently to and fro as the car lurched; but after a time he heard asharp click, and the speed suddenly slackened.

  "Why are you stopping?" he asked impatiently.

  "Men on the road," explained the driver. "I'm just slowing down."

  Clay could see nothing, but a sound came out of the gloom. There was aregular beat in it that indicated a body of men moving with some order.

  "Hold on!" he cautioned, as the driver reached out toward the horn. "Lether go until we see who they are. I suppose there's no way round?"

  "Not a cut-out trail until you reach the mill."

  "Then we'll have to pass them. Don't blow your horn or pull up unlessyou're forced to."

  The car slid forward softly and a few moments later the backs of fourmen appeared in the fan-shaped stream of light. As it passed themanother four were revealed, with more moving figures in the gloombeyond. Most of them seemed to be carrying something in the shape ofextemporized weapons, and their advance was regular and orderly. Thiswas not a mob, but an organized body on its way to execute somewell-thought-out plan. As the car drew nearer a man swung round with acry, and the rearmost fours stopped and faced about. There was a murmurof voices farther in front; and, seeing no way through, the driverstopped, though the engine rattled on.

  "Let us pass, boys; you don't want all the road," he calledgood-naturedly.

  None of them moved.

  "Where are you going?" one asked.

  "To the Clanch Mill," answered the driver before Clay could stop him.

  The men seemed to confer, and then one stood forward.

  "You can't go there to-night. Swing her round and light out the way youcame!"

  Clay had no doubt of their object; and he knew when to bribe high.

  "They'll jump clear if you rush her at them," he said softly. "A hundreddollars if you take me through!"

  The car leaped forward, gathering speed with every second; and as itraced toward them the courage of the nearest failed. Springing asidethey scrambled into the fern, and while the horn hooted in savagewarning the driver rushed the big automobile into the gap.

  For a few moments it looked as if they might get through. There was aconfused shouting; indistinct, hurrying figures appeared and vanished asthe shaft of light drove on. Some struck at the car as it passed them,some turned and gazed; but the men ahead were bolder, or perhaps moreclosely massed and unable to get out of the way in time.

  "Straight for them!" cried Clay.

  A man leaped into the light with a heavy stake in his hand.

  The next moment there was a crash, and the car swerved, ran wildly up abank, and overturned.

  Clay was thrown violently forward, and fell, unconscious, into a brakeof fern. When he came to, he was lying on his back with a group of menstanding round him. He felt dazed and shaky, and by the smarting of hisface he thought it was cut. When he feebly put up his hand to touch ithe felt his fingers wet. Then one of the men struck a match and bentover him.

  "Broken any bones?" he asked.

  "No." Clay found some difficulty in speaking. "I think not, but I don'tfeel as if I could get up."

  "Well," the man said, "it was your own fault; we told you to stop.Anyhow, you had better keep still a bit. If you're here when we comeback, we'll see what we can do."

  Glancing quickly round, Clay saw the driver sitting by the wrecked car;and then the match went out. In the darkness the nearest men spokesoftly to one another.

  "What were you going to the mill for?" one man asked him.

  "I had some business there," Clay answered readily. "I buy lumber nowand then."

  The men seemed satisfied.

  "Leave them alone," one suggested; "they'll make no trouble and it'stime we were getting on."

  The others seemed to agree, for there was some shouting to those infront, and the men moved forward. Clay heard the patter of their feetgrow fainter, and congratulated himself that he had obviously lookedworse than he felt. Now that the shock was passing, he did not think hewas much injured, but he lay quiet a few minutes to recover before hespoke to the driver.

  "How have you come off?" he asked.

  "Wrenched my leg when she pitched me out; hurts when I move it, but Idon't think there's anything out of joint."

  "As soon as I'm able I'll have to get o
n. How far do you reckon it is tothe mill?"

  "About two miles."

  Clay waited for some minutes and then got shakily up on his feet.

  "You'll find me at the C.P.R. hotel to-morrow if I don't see youbefore," he said; and, pulling himself together with an effort, helimped away along the road.

  For the first half-mile he had trouble in keeping on his feet; but as hewent on his head grew clearer and his legs steadier, and after a whilehe was able to make a moderate pace. There was no sign of the strikers,who had obviously left him well behind, but he pushed on, hoping toarrive not very long after them, for it was plain that he would bewanted. He was now plodding through open country, but there was nothingto be seen except scattered clumps of trees and the rough fences alongthe road. No sound came out of the shadows and all was very still.

  At last a dark line of standing timber rose against the sky, and when alight or two began to blink among the trees Clay knew he was nearer themill. He quickened his speed, and when a hoarse shouting reached him hebroke into a run. It was long since he had indulged in much physicalexercise, and he was still shaky from his fall, but he toiled on withlabored breath. The lights got brighter, but there was not much to beheard now; though he knew that the trouble had begun. He had no plans;it would be time to make them when he saw how things were going, for ifAynsley could deal with the situation he meant to leave it to him. Itwas his part to be on hand if he were needed, which was his usualattitude toward his son.

  An uproar broke out as he ran through an open gate with the darkbuildings and the lumber stacks looming in front. Making his way to oneof the huge piles of lumber, he stopped in its shadow, breathing hardwhile he looked about.

  The office was lighted, and the glow from its windows showed a crowd ofmen filling the space between the small building and the long saw-sheds.They were talking noisily and threatening somebody in the office, behindwhich, so far as Clay could make out, another body of men was gathered.Then the door opened, and he felt a thrill as Aynsley came out alone andstood where the light fell on him. He looked cool and even good-naturedas he confronted the hostile crowd; nothing in his easy pose suggestedthe strain Clay knew he must be bearing. As he fixed his eyes on thestraight, handsome figure and the calm face, Clay felt that his son wasa credit to him.

  "I'd hate to see you get into trouble for nothing, boys," Aynsley saidin a clear voice. "If you'll think it over, you'll see that you havenothing against the management of this mill. We pay standard wages andengaged foreigners only when we could get nobody else. They'll bereplaced by white men when their work is done."

  "We've come along to see you fire them out to-night!" cried one of thestrikers.

  "I'm sorry that's impossible," Aynsley replied firmly.

  "See here!" shouted another. "We've no time for foolin', and this ain'ta bluffin' match! The boys mean business, and if you're wise, you'll dowhat they ask. Now, answer straight off: Have we got your last word onthe matter?"

  "Yes," said Aynsley; "you can take it that you have."

  "That's all right," said the spokesman. "Now we know how we stand." Heraised his voice. "Boys, we've got to run the blasted Japs off!"

  There was a pause and a confused murmuring for nearly a minute. Clay,remaining in the shadow of the lumber, wondered whether it might nothave been wiser had he struggled back to Vancouver in search ofassistance; but, after all, the police had their hands full in the city,and he might not have been able to obtain it. Besides, he had been usedto the primitive methods of settling a dispute in vogue on the Mexicanfrontier and in Arizona twenty years ago, and, shaken, bruised, andbleeding, as he was, his nerves tingled pleasantly at the prospect of afight.

  When the strikers began to close in on the office Clay slipped round thelumber stack, and was fortunate in finding Jevons, the manager.

  "Mr. Clay!" exclaimed Jevons, glancing at his lacerated face.

  "Sure," said Clay. "Don't mention that I'm here. My boy's in charge solong as he can handle the situation."

  "It's ugly," declared Jevons. "Are you armed?"

  "I have a pistol. Don't know that I can afford to use it. What's theprogram?"

  Before Jevons could answer, there was a rush of dark figures toward theoffice, and a hoarse shout.

  "The Japs first! Into the river with them!"

  "Steady, boys!" Aynsley's voice rang out. "Hold them, saw gang A!"

  A confused struggle began in the darkness and raged among the lumberstacks. Groups of shadowy figures grappled, coalesced into a fightingmass, broke apart, surged forward, and were violently thrust back. Therewas not much shouting and no shots were fired yet, but Clay was keenlywatchful as he made his way from place to place, where resistance seemedweakest, and encouraged the defenders, who did not know him. With rudegeneralship he brought up men from the less threatened flank and threwthem into action where help was needed; but he realized that thegarrison was outnumbered and was being steadily pushed back.

  They were, however, making a stubborn fight, and the conflict grewfiercer. Yells of rage and pain now broke through the sound of scufflingfeet, stertorous breathing, and shock of blows; orders and threats wereshouted, and Clay's face grew stern when one or two pistols flashed. Hehad found a big iron bar and was satisfied with it, but if forced toshoot he would not miss, as he thought the rioters did.

  A red glow leaped up from the end of a shed. The blaze spread quickly;there was a sharp crackling, louder than the turmoil it broke in upon,and a cloud of pungent smoke hung above the struggling men. Clay couldsee their faces now: Japs and white men bunched together, but slowlygiving ground, with his son in the midst of the surging, swaying clusterthat bore the brunt of the attack.

  It struck Clay, as he paused for a moment, that the little, sallow-facedaliens were remarkably cool, though it must be obvious to them that theywere not holding their own. He wondered whether they had some plan inreserve. There was, however, no time to ponder this, for a pistolflashed among the rioters. The group that Aynsley led gave back and thendrove forward again with a savage rush, while hoarse shouts went up.

  "Stand them off while we take him out! Sock the fellow with the pistol;he's plugged the boss!"

  Clay suddenly was filled with murderous fury. There was a good deal ofthe barbarian in him and he had led a hard, adventurous life. His sonwas shot. The brutes who had brought him down would suffer!

  "I'm his father, boys!" he cried. "Follow me and drive the damned hogsinto the river!"

  The boldest closed in about him, a knot of determined men, smallranchers and prospectors who had long fought with flood and frost in thelonely hills. They were of sterner stuff than the city millhands, and,led by one who would go on until he dropped, they cleft the front of themob like a wedge. The man with the pistol fired almost in their leader'sface, and missed; but Clay did not miss with the bar, and he trod on thefellow's body as he urged on the furious charge.

  It was a forlorn hope. Though for a time the men could not be stopped,the rioters closed in behind them, cutting off support. They could notkeep up the rush, and presently they gained only a foot or two bydesperate struggling. Clay knew their position was now dangerous. Thestrikers' passions were unloosed and no mercy would be shown; but thisdid not matter so long as he could leave his mark on some of his foesbefore they got him down. He fought with a cold fury that helped him toplace his blows, and the long bar made havoc among the strikers; butsoon he was hemmed in, with his back to a lumber pile, and he knew theend was near. Bruised, dazed, and bleeding, he stood wielding his weaponand sternly watching for a chance to strike.

  Suddenly the crowd which pressed upon him gave back and he heard a rushof feet and alarmed shouts. There was a yell that was not made by whitemen; short, active figures, lithe and fierce as cats, fell withresistless fury upon the retreating foe. The retreat turned into a rout:the strikers were running for their lives, with a swarm of aliens insavage pursuit.

  Clay saw that they outnumbered all the Japanese at the mill; but wherethey came from w
as not a matter of much consequence. He must rousehimself to take part in the chase, and exact full vengeance from thefugitives. The rioters fled along the bank, scrambled across the logbooms, and took to the water; and Clay laughed harshly as he drove someof the laggards in. Whether they could swim or not was their own affair.

  He went back to the office with an anxious heart, and a few minuteslater he stood beside a camp bed in his son's quarters. He had lost hishat, his city coat was torn to rags, and his white shirt was stainedwith blood from the gash in his cheek; but he was unconscious of allthis. Aynsley lay there, breathing feebly, with a drawn, white face anda small blue mark on his uncovered breast, while an ominous red frothgathered about his lips.

  Clay placed his hand on the damp forehead, and the boy half opened hiseyes.

  "Do you know who I am?" his father asked.

  "Sure!" Aynsley smiled feebly. "You said you wouldn't fail me. I supposeyou whipped them?"

  He turned his head and coughed, and Clay beckoned Jevons.

  "Help me raise his shoulders a bit, and then I guess we'd better putsome wet bandages on him. As they've cut the 'phone wires, send somebodyto the nearest ranch for a horse to bring a doctor from Vancouver."

  "I've done so," Jevons told him.

  "Then send another man to Westminster, and we'll take the first doctorwho gets through or keep them both."

  They placed Aynsley in a position in which he could breathe more easily,and Clay gently wrapped him round with wetted rags.

  "I don't know if this is the right thing, but it's all I can think of,"he said. "We want to keep down any internal bleeding."

  After this they waited anxiously for the doctor. Jevons presently creptout to restore order and to see that the fire had been extinguished; andClay was left alone with his boy. There was no sound in the room wherehe sat, sternly watching over the unconscious form that lay so still onthe bed.

  After what seemed an interminable time Jevons opened the door softly.

  "Has the doctor come?" Clay asked eagerly.

  "Not yet. Any change?"

  "None," said Clay. "He can't hear--I wish he could. Who were thosefellows who came to the rescue?"

  "City Japs, so far as I can learn. It seems they're pretty wellorganized, and suspecting a raid would be made on their partners heretheir committee sent a body out. I've been round the mill, and it looksas if a thousand dollars would cover--"

  "Get out of here!" Clay exclaimed roughly. "I can't talk about thedamage now. Watch for those doctors and bring them in right off!"

  Jevons was glad to get away, but it was nearly daybreak when he returnedwith a surgeon from Vancouver. Shortly afterward the Westminster surgeonarrived, and the two doctors turned Clay out of the room. He paced upand down the corridor, tensely anxious. His own weakness, the ugly gashon his face--everything was forgotten except the danger in which his boylay. After a while his head reeled, and he stopped and leaned on therude banister, unconscious of the dizziness.

  The first streaks of daylight were sifting into the room when Clay waspermitted to enter. Aynsley lay in a stupor, but the doctors seemedsatisfied.

  "We got the bullet," one of them reported; "but there's still some causefor anxiety. However, we'll do our best to pull him through. Now you'dbetter let me dress your face: it needs attention."

  Clay submitted to his treatment and then sat down wearily in a roombelow to wait for news.