Carmen's Messenger

by Harold Bindloss

  XXIII

  AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

  Daly was not at Banff, and Foster, who made cautious inquiries, foundnothing to indicate that he had been there. Indeed, he began to weighthe possibility of Carmen's having deceived him, but rejected thisexplanation. The girl was clever at intrigue, but he did not think shehad acted a part. She had really lost her self-control and told himthe truth in a fit of rage. On the other hand, it was possible thatDaly had deceived her, but there was no obvious reason for his doing so.

  The fellow, however, was not in Banff, which is a small place,frequented mostly by tourists and invalids who come there in summer,and Foster took a west-bound train. He was once more at a loss andfelt dispirited. For one thing, he had no time to lose, because itwould spoil his plans if Hulton's agents got on Daly's track before him.

  He left Banff late at night, with a ticket for Vancouver, which he hadbought on speculation, partly because the seaboard city is aclearing-house for travelers to all parts of the Pacific coast, but didnot sleep much as the heavy train rumbled through the mountains. Thejolting of the cars and the roar of wheels that echoed among the rocksdisturbed him, and he was troubled by gloomy thoughts. He had promisedAlice Featherstone that he would clear her brother; but he had also toclear himself, and in order to do so must find Lawrence as well asDaly. Just now he had not much hope of finding either, but hecherished a vague belief in his luck, and it was unthinkable that heshould neglect any chance of justifying the girl's confidence. He wasready to follow Daly round the world, sooner than lose that. Thetrouble was that he could not tell if he was following the fellow ornot.

  He went to sleep at last, and getting up rather late, spent an hour ortwo trying to knit up broken clews and looking for a light. It was aprofitless but absorbing occupation and he vacantly glanced at themajestic panorama of snowy peaks and climbing forest that rolled pastthe windows of the car. When his thoughts wandered from their groove,he saw Alice Featherstone moving with stately calm about the Garth, orstanding in the orchard with the sunset shining on her face. Herecalled the grace of her tall figure and how her dress harmonized withthe mossy trunks, but he loved to dwell upon the look of trust in hersteady eyes. Then the memories were suddenly banished, for a whistlerang up the track and there was a jar of brakes.

  Foster hurried out to the platform when the long train stopped, and sawthe conductor talking to the engineer and passengers jumping down intothe snow. Pete joined him as he followed them, but he stopped for somemoments and looked about. There was no station near. The track, whichwas marked by cinders and stains on the snow, ran along a desolatemountainside. Dark pines that looked as if they had been dusted withicing-sugar rolled in curiously rigid ranks up the slope, gettingsmaller until they dwindled to a fine saw-edge that bit into a vastsweep of white. This ended in a row of jagged peaks whose summitsgleamed with dazzling brightness against the blue sky. Below thetrack, the ground fell away to a tremendous gorge, where dark-coloredmist hung about a green river dotted with drifting ice. The sun struckwarm upon his face, though the snow was dry.

  "We'll find out why they've stopped," he said to Pete and walkedforward past the cars.

  The engineer stood on the step of the huge locomotive and had not muchinformation to give.

  "Track's gone down not far ahead; snow-slide, I guess."

  He shrugged when Foster asked if it would be a long job. "You can seefor yourself, if you like," he remarked, indicating a plume of smokethat rose above the pines. "There's a construction gang at work roundthe bend. It's a sure thing we won't pull out before you're back."

  Foster set off with Pete and several passengers, and the Scot gazedabout with wonder.

  "I was born among the hills, but never have I seen ought like this!" heexclaimed. "Man, it passes dreamin' o'; it's just stupenjious! But Iwouldna' say they'll mak' much o' farming here."

  "They have some bench tablelands and pretty rich alluvial valleys,"Foster answered with a smile. "The province depends largely on itsminerals."

  Pete glanced back up the track that wound down between rock and forestfrom a distant notch in the high, white rampart.

  "I'm thinking the men who built yon line had stout hearts."

  "It wasn't an easy job," Foster agreed. "They were up against savageNature, and she's still too strong for the engineer now and then, as Iexpect you'll shortly see."

  They walked through a gap in the pines and stopped with a sense of aweon the edge of a great red furrow in the mountain. The gash wasfringed by shattered trees, and here and there a giant splintered trunkrested precariously among stones ground to fragments. Far beneath, avast pile of earth and snow dammed the river, and half-way up anoverturned locomotive, with boiler crushed like an eggshell, lay amongthe wreckage. The end of a smashed box-car rose out of the boilingflood. For a hundred yards the track had vanished, but gangs of menwere hurrying to and fro about the gap. Farther back, there was clangof flung-down rails and a ringing of hammers.

  "If they open the road again by to-morrow morning, they'll be lucky,"Foster remarked, and stopped a big fellow who was going past with an axon his shoulder. "Is there any settlement not too far ahead?"

  "There's a smart new hotel at the flag station about six miles off,"said the man. "You can make it all right walking if you keep to thetrack and watch out you don't meet the construction train in thesnowshed."

  Foster, who knew he would find waiting tedious, went back to the carfor his small bag, after which he and Pete set off for the hotel. Theyhad some trouble to cross the path of the avalanche and then spent sometime getting past the men who were unloading a row of flat cars. Thesingle-line track was cut out of the rock and one ran a risk ofglissading down to the river by venturing outside its edge. Once,indeed, a heavy beam, thrown too far, plunged down like a toboggan, andleaping from a rock's crest splashed into the flood. The men on thecars worked in furious haste, and it was difficult to avoid theclanging rails they threw off.

  Foster got past, but did not find walking easy when he had done so.The track wound among the folds of the hills, and where the sun hadstruck the snow there was a slippery crust, through which he broke.Where it ran past tall crags and between the trees, the snow was dryand loose as dust. They made something over two miles in the firsthour and soon afterwards came to the mouth of a snowshed. The openingmade a dark blotch on the glittering slope, for the roof was pitched ata very small angle to the declivity and the snow passed down hill overit with scarcely a wrinkle.

  It was only when they entered they saw signs of man's work in themassive beams and stringers that braced the structure. These werepresently lost in the gloom and Foster stumbled among the ties.Shingle ballast rolled under his feet; where he found a tie to step onit was generally by stubbing his toe, and once or twice he struck theside of the shed.

  For all that, he pushed on as fast as possible. The warning he hadbeen given was indefinite, but it looked as if a train was shortlyexpected and the locomotive, with its outside cylinders, would not givethem much room. He imagined that refuges would be provided atintervals, but did not know where to find them. Now and then theystopped to listen, but heard nothing. There was deep silence, whichwas a relief, and they blundered on again as fast as they could. Itwas rather daunting work and one could not make much speed, but when afaint, muffled throbbing reached them they began to run.

  Foster had no means of guessing the length of the shed, and as heslipped among the ballast looked anxiously in front, but could not seethe glimmering patch of light he expected. The darkness wasimpenetrable, but the contour of the hillside had indicated that theshed was curved, and the outlet might be nearer than he thought. Inthe meantime, the sweat ran down his face and his breath came hard. Hewas in good training, for his journeys among the Scottish hills hadstrengthened his muscles, but the footing was bad among the stones, andhe labored through them awkwardly with set lips and clenched hands. Hethought of throwing away his heavy coat, but it would take a fe
wmoments to get it off and he must put down the bag, in which there wasthe letter he would need. By and by his foot struck something andlurching forward he lost his balance and came down heavily. The blowshook him and he was a little slow in getting up until he felt a railhe put his hand on quiver. Then he scrambled to his feet, but couldnot find the bag.

  "I hae't," said Pete, who seized his arm and urged him forward.

  A deep snorting reached them and a tie he trod on trembled, but as heran savagely with labored breath there was an elusive glimmer in thedark ahead. It grew brighter, an irregularly-shaped white patchappeared, and making a tense effort while the ballast rolled beneathhis feet, he staggered into the sunshine. Then with a gasp of keenrelief he threw himself upon the snow beside the track.

  About a hundred yards away, a giant locomotive toiled up the incline,hurling out clouds of smoke that streamed far back among the pines.The road bed shook and the hillside rang with the din of wheels. WhileFoster lay panting, the locomotive labored past, and then long, flatcars, on which men sat upon the load of jarring rails, clanged by. Theblack mouth of the shed swallowed them, a cloud of smoke and dusty snowcurled about the opening, and the uproar suddenly sank to a muffledrumble. This died away and the deep silence of the mountains wasemphasized by the sound of the river.

  "We were not much too soon," Foster said with a breathless laugh. "NowI come to think of it, there's no obvious reason we shouldn't havestopped on board the train and got our lunch comfortably. I seem tohave a habit of doing unusual and unnecessary things; it's curious howsoon you get into trouble when you indulge a bent like that."

  "Yon's a verra true remairk," Pete agreed. "It's a rough and thornyworld, an' if ye will not walk in the cleared paths but gang yere airgait, ye must struggle with the briars."

  "And scramble through snowsheds? You Scots are a philosophical lot.But do you call poaching sticking to the beaten path?"

  "I'm thinking it's as near it as stravaging aboot the Border mosses,when ye might gang by train."

  "A fair hit! But after all, man wears the regulation paths so deepthat he can't get out when he wants. What about the pioneers, whoblaze the new trails? Aren't they needed?"

  "Whiles, maybe," Pete answered grinning. "For a' that, they maun tak'the consequences. Do ye feel it's yere business to break a new road?"

  "Certainly not! I'm not a philanthropist and would be quite satisfiedwith making things a little easier for myself and my friends, but ammuch afraid I haven't succeeded yet. In fact, there's one friend inEngland who's very far from grateful. But the question is--Why did Ileave the train?"

  "Ye just felt ye had to?"

  "I think I did. But why did I feel that?"

  Pete chuckled. "There ye have me! This I ken; whiles when I had ahare or a few paltrig in the lining o' my auld coat and cam' to a slapin a dyke, I had a kind o' feeling yon was no' the road for me. Icouldna' tell there was a keeper hiding on the ither side; but I didna'gang. Maybe it's better no' to argue but follow yere heart."

  "No," said Foster, "I imagine it's really better to follow your head.In the meantime, I've had no lunch and think we'll get on."

  They came to a wide hollow in the hills where the snow was deep andloose. The sun was shut out and the frost was keen, while Foster sawby the lengthening shadow of the pines across the river that theafternoon was wearing on. A glance at his watch showed that he hadbeen walking for nearly three hours, but there was no sign of thehotel. Dark masses of trees ran up from the water to the line ofsummer snow, and no roof or curl of smoke broke their somber monotony.High above, the peaks glittered with a steely brightness that seemed tointensify the cold.

  Their breath hung about them as they plodded on, but at length, whenthey came to the middle of the bend, where the hills curved out again,there was a break and they stopped at the end of a bridge. The low sunshone into the gap, which was profoundly deep and majesticallybeautiful. On its farther side, tremendous crags held up the snow,which trickled down their faces in thin gray streaks and stretched backabove, steeped in soft blue shadow. On Foster's side, giant pinesglimmered a bright green in the warm light, running up to a glitteringslope that ended in two rugged peaks, and a river that sprang from awrinkled glacier foamed through the dusky gorge. Where a smallclearing had been cut in the forest, steep red roofs stood out inharmonious contrast with the green of the firs, and a picturesquewooden building with pillars and verandas occupied the greater part ofthe opening.

  "If the place is as attractive inside, it's worth the walk," Fosterremarked. "You appreciate your quarters best when you've had sometrouble to get there."

  "I'm thinking that's true. The peat fire and the auld rush chair inthe bit cothouse are weel worth winning to when ye come through therain and wind ower the dark moss. This is a gran' country, but it'sno' like that ither amang the Border fells."

  Foster stood for a few moments and mused, for he sympathized with Pete.He remembered the satisfaction with which he had seen the lights of alonely inn or farmstead twinkle when he tramped, wet and tired, acrossthe Scottish moors. They were bleak and often forbidding, but had acharm one felt but could not analyze, with the half-lights thattrembled across them and their subdued coloring. In spite of somehardships, he had been happy in the misty, rain-swept land, but he knewit had been touched by the glamour of romance. That was over. He wason his probation in utilitarian Canada, and very much at a loss; but hemeant to make good somehow and go forward, trusting in his luck.

  "Well," he said, "I'm hungry and we'll get on. I hope they won't makeus wait for supper, though they'll no doubt call it dinner at a placelike this."

  Five minutes afterwards he stamped the snow off his boots as he entereda glass-fronted veranda in front of the hotel. It was comfortablyfurnished, warm, and occupied by three people. A lady sat with somesewing at a table, and a very pretty girl, holding a cigarette case,leaned over the side of a basket chair, in which a man reclined.Foster, who imagined he was an invalid by his slack pose, was passingon to the main door when the man moved. As he turned to take acigarette Foster saw his face.

  "Lawrence!" he exclaimed.

  "Jake!" said the other, and would have got up, but the girl put herhand restrainingly on his arm.

  Foster stood still for a moment, overcome by surprise and satisfaction,but understanding what he saw. The lady with the sewing was studyinghim, but he did not resent this and thought he would like her. Thegirl divided her attention between him and his comrade, whom sherestrained with a pretty air of authority. She obviously knew whoFoster was and felt curious, but meant to take care of Lawrence. Therewas something in her protective manner that Foster found singularlycharming. Then Lawrence beckoned and held out his hand.

  "I'm uncommonly glad to see you, Jake, but how did you get here?"

  "Why aren't you in California?"

  They both laughed and Lawrence turned to the lady.

  "This is my neglectful partner, as I dare say you have guessed. Mrs.Stephen, of Victoria, Jake."

  She gave Foster her hand and he was next presented to Miss LucyStephen. Then Lawrence indicated Pete, who waited, looking very bigand muscular but quite at ease.

  "Who's this and where did you get him? I'll engage that he was bornbetween Ettrick and Liddel."

  "He kens!" Peter remarked with a twinkle. "My name's no' far fraeEttrick, sir."

  "My friend, Pete Scott," said Foster. "You have heard the ladies'names, Pete, but this is my partner, Mr. Featherstone, from the Garth."

  Pete lifted his hand to his forehead and the movement had a touch ofdignity. "Your servant, all; an' if ye'll alloo it, Mr. Foster'sfriends are mine."

  Lawrence laughed. "A very proper sentiment, and a true Borderer! Butyou haven't told us how you found him, Jake."

  "It's a long tale," said Foster. "Besides, I'm hungry. So I expect isPete."

  Lucy Stephen rang a bell. "Tea ought to be ready. We often take ithere."

  The tea was brought a f
ew minutes afterwards and when Lucy gave him hiscup Foster sat in a basket chair studying his comrade. Lawrence's facewas pinched and his pose languid, but Foster thought he was not so illas he had been. He did not know how much he ought to ask and haddecided to wait until they were alone when Lawrence smiled.

  "You needn't be alarmed, partner. I'm very much better than I was andwill soon be quite fit again."

  "We have good ground for hoping so," Lucy Stephen added in a friendlytone, and Foster thought she had noted his anxiety and liked him for it.

  Her remark seemed to warrant his looking at her and he approved what hesaw. The girl was attractive and had character, but what struck him atfirst sight was the protective gentleness she showed his comrade. Heliked her eyes, which were a soft, clear blue, while her supple figureand warm-tinted skin hinted that she was vigorous. It was plain thatshe had not Alice Featherstone's reserve and pride, nor he thought thedepth of tenderness that the latter hid. She was softer and morepliable, for Alice was marked by an unflinching steadfastness. Hesmiled as he admitted that for him Alice stood alone on anunapproachable plane.

  "But how did you get ill?" he asked.

  "I was left on an icy _couloir_," Lawrence replied. "When they foundme I was half-frozen, but it makes a story that's probably as long asyours. I'll tell it you later. How's our Borderer getting on?"

  Foster turned to Pete, who had a large, hot Canadian biscuit on hisplate. "This kind of meal isn't very common in this country, Pete.Perhaps I'd better warn you that there'll be another by and by."

  "Aweel," said Pete, grinning, "I've no' done so bad. It's a guid planto mak' certain when ye hae the chance."