XI
At six o'clock Donald came in from the logging-camp. Daney made it hisbusiness to be in the entry of the outer office when his superior tookhis mail from his box, and, watching narrowly, thought he observed afrown on the young laird's face as he read Nan Brent's letter.Immediately he took refuge in his private office, to which he wasfollowed almost immediately by Donald.
"That's your handwriting, Mr. Daney," he said, thrusting the largeenvelop under Daney's nose. "Another letter in a smaller envelop wasenclosed by you in this large one. You knew, of course, who wrote it."
"Miss Brent brought it personally."
Donald started slightly. He was amazed.
"I take it," he continued, after a slight pause, "that it was entirelyyour idea to conceal from the office force the fact that Miss Brenthad written me this letter."
"It was, Don."
"I am at a loss to know why you took such a precaution." Donald's eyesmet Daney's in frank suspicion; the latter thought that he detectedsome slight anger in the younger man's bearing.
"I can enlighten you, Don. Miss Brent was at some pains to conceal thefact that she had written you a letter; she brought it to me to behanded to you, rather than run the risk of discovery by dropping it inthe post-office for special delivery. Some of the girls in our officewent to school with Nan Brent and might recognize her handwriting ifthey saw the envelop. I saw Hetty Fairchaild looking over your lettersrather interestedly the other day, when she was sorting the mail andputting it in the boxes."
"The entire procedure appears to me to be peculiar and whollyunnecessary. However, I'm obliged to you, Mr. Daney, for acceding sothoroughly to Nan's apparent wishes." He frowned as he tore theenvelop into shreds and dropped them in Dahey's waste-basket. "I'mafraid some young women around this plant are going to lose their jobsunless they learn to restrain their curiosity and their tongues," headded.
"I thought I was still general manager," Daney reminded him gently,"Hiring and firing have always been my peculiar prerogatives."
"Forgive me, Mr. Daney. They shall continue to be." The young Lairdgrinned at the rebuke; Daney smiled back at him, and the somewhatcharged atmosphere cleared instantly.
"By the way, Donald, your father is in town. He's going up to Seattleto-night on the seven-ten train. Your mother and the girls leftearlier in the week. He's dining at the hotel and wishes you to joinhim there. He figured that, by the time you could reach The Dreamerie,shave, bathe, and dress, it would be too late to have dinner with himthere and still allow him time to catch his train."
"How does idleness sit on my parent, Mr. Daney?"
"Not very well, I fear. He shoots and fishes and takes long walks withthe dogs; he was out twice in your sloop this week. I think he andyour mother and the girls plan a trip to Honolulu shortly."
"Good!" Donald yawned and stretched his big body, "I've lost eightpounds on this chopping-job," he declared, "and I thought I hadn't anounce of fat on me. Zounds, I'm sore! But I'm to have an easy job nextweek. I'm to patrol the skid-roads with a grease-can. That woods bossis certainly running me ragged."
"Well, your innings will come later," Daney smiled.
At the mill office, Donald washed, and then strolled over to the hotelto meet his father. Old Hector grinned as Donald, in woolen shirt,mackinaw, corduroy trousers, and half-boots came into the littlelobby, for in his son he saw a replica of himself thirty years agone.
"Hello, dad!" Donald greeted him.
"Hello, yourself!"
The father, in great good humor, joined his son, and they proceeded todine, chaffing each other good-naturedly the while, and occasionallyexchanging pleasantries with their neighbors at adjoining tables. TheLaird was in excellent spirits, a condition which his interview thatafternoon with Nan Brent had tended to bring about; during the periodthat had elapsed between his subsequent doubts and his meeting withhis son, he had finally decided that the entire matter was a mare'snest and had dismissed it from his mind.
After dinner, they walked down to the railroad station together,Donald carrying his father's bag. While The Laird was at theticket-window purchasing his transportation, his son walked over to abaggage-truck to rest the bag upon it. As the bag landed with a thud,a man who had been seated on the truck with his back toward Donaldglanced over his shoulder in a leisurely way, and, in that glance, thelatter recognized one of the Greeks he had evicted from the SawdustPile--the same man who had thrown a beer-bottle at him the day hemotored through Darrow.
"What are you doing in Port Agnew?" Donald demanded.
To his query, the fellow replied profanely that this was none of hisinterrogator's affair.
"Well, it is some of my affair," the new boss of Tyee replied. "I havea crow to pluck with you, anyhow, and I'm going to pluck it now." Hegrasped the Greek by his collar and jerked him backward until the manlay flat on his back across the baggage-truck; then, with his hornyleft hand, Donald slapped the sullen face vigorously, jerked thefellow to his feet, faced him in the direction of Darrow, and, with avigorous kick, started him on his way. "That's for throwingbeer-bottles!" he called after the man. "And hereafter you keep out ofPort Agnew. Your kind are not welcome here."
The Greek departed into the night cursing, while The Laird, still atthe ticket-window, glanced interestedly from his son to the Greek andthen back to Donald.
"What's the idea, son?" he demanded.
"A recent dweller on the Sawdust Pile," his son replied easily. "Hedeclared war on me, so, naturally, he comes into my territory at hisown risk. That scum from Darrow must keep out of our town, dad, andforce is the only argument they can understand. Daney gave them a freehand and spoiled them, but I'm going to teach them who's boss aroundhere now. Besides, I owe that fellow a poke. He insulted Nan Brent.There would have been a bill for repairs on the scoundrel if I hadcaught him the day I drove his gang off the Sawdust Pile."
"Well, I approve of your sentiments, Donald, but, nevertheless, it's apoor practise for a gentleman to fight with a mucker, although," headded whimsically, "when I was your age I always enjoyed a go withsuch fellows. That man you just roughed is George Chirakes, and he's abad one. Knifed three of his countrymen in a drunken riot in Darrowlast fall, but got out of it on a plea of self-defense. Keep your eyeon the brute. He may try to play even, although there's no realcourage in his kind. They're born bushwhackers," The Laird glanced athis watch and saw that it still lacked eight minutes of train-time."Wait for me a minute," he told his son. "I want to telephone Daney ona little matter I overlooked this afternoon."
He entered the telephone-booth in the station and called up AndrewDaney.
"McKaye speaking," he announced. "I've just discovered Donald has anenemy--that Greek, Chirakes, from Darrow. Did Dirty Dan come in fromthe woods to-night?"
"I believe he did. He usually comes in at week-ends."
"Look him up immediately, and tell him to keep an eye on Donald, andnot to let him out of his sight until the boy boards the logging-trainto-morrow night to go back to the woods. Same thing next week-end, andwhen Donald completes his tour of duty in the woods, transfer Dan fromthe logging-camp and give him a job in the mill, so he can watch overthe boy when he's abroad nights. He is not, of course, to let my sonknow he is under surveillance."
"I will attend to the matter immediately," Daney promised, and TheLaird, much relieved, hung up and rejoined his son.
"Take care of yourself--and watch that Greek, boy," he cautioned, ashe swung aboard the train.
Donald stood looking after the train until the tail-lights haddisappeared round a curve.
Kindred of the Dust Page 11
