A Damaged Reputation

by Harold Bindloss

  IX.

  DEVINE MAKES A SUGGESTION.

  There was only one hotel, which scarcely deserved the title, in thesettlement, and when Brooke returned to it an hour after the six o'clocksupper, he found Devine sitting on the verandah. He had never met theman until that afternoon, and had only received one very terse responseto the somewhat acrimonious correspondence he had insisted on his agentforwarding him respecting the ranch. He had no doubt that the affair hadlong ago passed out of Devine's memory, though he was still, on hispart, as determined as ever on obtaining restitution. He had, however,no expectation of doing it by persuasion, though the man was evidently avery different individual from the one his fancy had depicted, and, thatbeing so, recrimination appeared useless, as well as undignified. Hewas, therefore, while he would have done nothing to avoid him, by nomeans anxious to spend the remainder of the evening in Devine's company.The latter was, however, already on the verandah, and looked up when heentered it.

  "I had almost a fancy you meant to keep out of my way," he said.

  Brooke sat down, and there was a trace of dryness in his smile.

  "If I had felt inclined to do so, you would scarcely expect me to admitit? I don't mean because that would not have been complimentary to you,"he said.

  Devine laughed, and handed his cigar-case across. "Take one if you feellike it. I quite see your point," he said. "Some of you folks from theold country are a trifle tender in the hide, but I don't mind tellingyou that there was a time when I spent an hour or two every day keepingout of other men's way. They wanted dollars I couldn't raise, you see,and now and then I had to spend mornings in the city because I couldn'tget into my office on account of them. I meant to pay them, and I did,but there was no way of doing it just then."

  Brooke's smile was a trifle curious, and might have been construed intoimplying a doubt of his companion's commendable intentions, but thelatter did not appear to notice it, and he took one of the cigarsoffered him, and found it excellent. Though they were to be adversaries,there was nothing to be gained by betraying a puerile bitterness againstthe man, and now he had met him, Brooke was not quite so sure as hecould have wished that he disliked him personally. He meant to securehis six thousand dollars if it could be done, which appeared distinctlydoubtful, and sentiment of any kind was, he assured himself, out ofplace. Still, he did not altogether relish Devine's cigar.

  "They were probably persistent men," he said.

  Devine glanced at him sharply, but Brooke's face was, or at least hehoped so, expressionless.

  "Well," he said, tranquilly, "I contrive to pay my debts as the usualthing, but we'll let that slide. What are you at up here in the bush?"

  "Mining, just now," said Brooke. "To be more definite, acting as handyman about a mine."

  "You'd make more rock-drilling. Feel fond of it?"

  "I can't say I do. Still, I have a notion that it is going to lead tothe acquisition of a few dollars presently."

  Devine sat silent at a space, apparently reflecting, and then looked upagain.

  "Now," he said, "suppose I was to make you an offer, would you feelinclined to listen to me?"

  Brooke had acquired in England a composure which was frequently usefulto him, but he was young, and started a trifle, while once more theblood showed through his unfortunately clear skin.

  "I think I could promise that much, at least," he said.

  "Well," said Devine, "I have some use for a man who knows a little aboutbush ranches and mines, and understands the English folks who now andthen buy them from me. I could afford to pay him a moderate salary."

  Brooke closed one hand a trifle, and the bronze deepened in his face.The opportunity Saxton had been waiting for was now, it seemed, beingthrust upon him, and yet he felt that he could not avail himself of it.It was clear that he had everything to gain by doing so, but there was,he realized now, a treachery he could not descend to. He strove topersuade himself that this was a sentimental weakness, for it had becomeeven more apparent of late that with the knowledge he had gained of thatcountry there would be no great difficulty in making his way once he hadthe dollars he had been robbed of again in his hands, and he had had abitter taste of the life that must be dragged through by the man withnone. Still, the fact that his instincts, which, as occasionally happensto other men, would not be controlled by his reason, revolted from thepart he must play if he made terms with Devine, remained, and he satvery still, with forehead wrinkled and one hand clenched, until hiscompanion, who had never taken his eyes off him, spoke again.

  "It doesn't sound good enough?" he said.

  Brooke shook himself together. "As a matter of fact, I am very doubtfulif I shall get quite as good an offer again. Still, I am afraid I can'tquite see my way to entertaining it."

  "No?" said Devine. "I guess you have your reasons?"

  Brooke felt that he could scarcely consider the motive which had inducedhim to answer as he did a reason. It was rather an impulse he could nothold in check, or the result of a prejudice, but he could not explainthis, and what was under the circumstances a somewhat illogicalbitterness against Devine took possession of him.

  "When I first came into this province my confiding simplicity cost me agood deal, and I almost think I should rather feel myself impelled towarn any of my countrymen I came into contact with against making rashventures in land and mines than induce them to do so," he said.

  Devine smiled drily. "That is tolerably plain talk, anyway. Still, itought to be clear that a man can't keep on taking folks' dollars withoutgiving them reasonable value anywhere. No, sir. As soon as they find outhe has only worthless goods to sell, they stop dealing with him rightaway. There's another point. Are they all fools who come out fromEngland to buy mines and ranching land?"

  "I have certainly met a few who seemed to be. Of course, I includemyself," said Brooke, grimly.

  "Well, you can take it from me, and I ought to know, that there arefolks back yonder quite as smart at getting one hundred and fifty centsfor the dollar's worth as any man in Canada. We needn't, however, worryabout that. I made you an offer, and you have quite decided that itwouldn't suit you?"

  Again Brooke sat silent a space. He felt in some degree bound to Saxton,though he had certainly earned every dollar the latter had handed him,and it had been agreed that a verbal intimation from either wouldsuffice to terminate the compact between them. There was also no reasonwhy he should do anything that would prejudice him if he enteredDevine's service, and a very faint hope commenced to dawn on him thatthere might be a way out of the difficulty. Devine appeared to be areasonable man, and he determined to at least give him an opportunity.

  "It is probably an unusual course under the circumstances, but before Idecide I would like to ask a question," he said. "We will suppose thatyou or one of your agents had sold a man who did not know what he wasbuying a tract of worthless land, and he demanded compensation. Whatwould you do?"

  "The man would naturally look at the land and use his discretion."

  "We'll assume that he didn't. Men who come into this country at a timewhen everybody is eager to buy now and then most unwisely take aland-agent's statements for granted. Even if they surveyed the propertyoffered them they would not very often be able to form any opinion ofits value."

  "Then," said Devine, drily, "they take their chances, and can't blamethe other man."

  "Still, if the buyer convinced you that your agent knew the land wasworth nothing when he sold it him?"

  Devine glanced at him sharply. "That would be a little difficult, butI'll answer you. I've been stuck with a good many bad bargains in mytime, and I never went back and tried to cry off one of them. No, sir. Itook hold and worried the most I could out of them. Nobody quite knowswhat a piece of land in this country is or will be worth, except thatit's quite certain every rod of it is going to be some use forsomething, and bring in dollars to the man who holds on to it,presently."

  "Then you would not make the victim any compensation?"

 
"No, sir. Not a cent. I shouldn't consider him a victim. That's quitestraight?"

  "I scarcely think anybody would consider it ambiguous," Brooke said,drily, for he felt his face grow warm, and realized that it was notadvisable to give the anger that was gaining on him the rein. "Itdemands an equal candor, and I have given you one of my reasons fordeciding that it would not suit me to enter your service. I can't helpwondering what induced you to make me the offer."

  Devine laughed. "Well," he said, reflectively, "so am I. I had, as Itold you, a notion that I might have a use for a man of the kind youseem to be, but I'm not quite so sure of it now. Though I don't knowthat I'm especially thin in the skin, some of the questions you seemfond of asking might make trouble between you and me. For another thing,on thinking it over afterwards, it struck me that the team might havetilted that wagon off the bridge this afternoon. I'm not sure that theywould have done, but you came along handy."

  He rose with a little sardonic smile and went into the hotel, leavingBrooke sitting on the verandah and staring at the dusky forest vacantly,for his thoughts were not exactly pleasant just then. He had beenoffered a chance Saxton, at least, would have eagerly seized upon, andit was becoming evident that there was little of the stuff successfulconspirators are made of in him. He could not ignore the fact that itwas a conspiracy they were engaged in, for he meant to get his sixthousand dollars back, and found it especially galling to remember thatit was a kindness Devine had purposed doing him.

  He had also misgivings as to what his confederate--for that was, herecognized, the most fitting term he could apply to Saxton--would haveto say about his decision, and after all it was evident that he owed hima little. Once more he fumed at his folly in ever buying the ranch, forall his difficulties sprang from that mistake, and he felt he could notface the result of it and drag out his days cut off from all that madelife bearable, a mere wielder of axe and shovel, without a struggle,even though it left a mark on him which could never be quite effaced.

  The freighter came in early next morning with the drills, and Brooke,who hired pack-horses, set off with them, but as he drove the loadedbeasts out of the clearing he saw Devine watching him from the verandah,with a little smile. He made a salutation, and Brooke, for no apparentreason, jerked the leading pack-horse's bridle somewhat viciously. Itwas a long journey to the mine, and there were several difficult ascentsupon the way, but he reached it safely, and found Saxton expecting himimpatiently. They spent an hour or two getting the drills to work, andthen sat down to a meal in the galvanized shanty.

  Saxton was damp and stained with soil, his long boots were miry, and oneof his hands was bleeding, but he laughed a little as he glanced at theheavy, doughy bread and untempting canned stuff on the table and roundthe comfortless room.

  "I guess I don't get my dollars easily," he said. "There are quite a fewways of making them, but the one the sensible man has the least use foris with the hammer and drill. Still, I'm going back to the city, andwe'll try another one presently. You'll stay here about a week, and thenthere'll be work for you. I've heard of something while you were away."

  "So have I!" said Brooke. "I met Devine, and he gave me an opportunityof entering his service."

  Saxton became suddenly eager. "You took it?"

  "No," said Brooke, drily, "I did not. I had one or two reasons for notdoing so, though I feel it is very probable that you would notappreciate them."

  Saxton stared at him in astonishment, and then made a little gesture ofresignation. "Well," he said, "I guess I wouldn't--after what I've seenof you. Still, can't you understand what kind of chance you've thrownaway? I might have made 'most anything out of the pointers you couldhave picked up and given me."

  Brooke smiled drily. "I don't think you could," he said. "As a matter offact, I wouldn't have given you any."

  Saxton turned towards him resolutely, with his elbows planted on thetable and his black eyes intent. "Now," he said, "I want a straightanswer. Are you going back on your bargain?"

  "No. If I had meant to do that, I should naturally have taken Devine'soffer. As I have told you a good many times already, I am going to getmy six thousand dollars out of him. That is, of course, if we can manageit, about which I am more than a little doubtful."

  Saxton laughed contemptuously. "You would never get six dollars out ofanybody who wasn't quite willing to let you have them," he said. "Astruggling man has no use for the notions you seem proud of."

  "I really can't help having them," said Brooke, with a little smile.

  Saxton shook his head. "Well," he said, "it's fortunate you're not goingto be left to yourself, or somebody would take the clothes off you. Now,I've heard from a friend of mine, who has a contract to build theCanopus folks a flume. It seems they want more water, and it's Devine'smine."

  "How is that going to help us?"

  "Since Leeson made that contract, he got the offer of another that wouldpay him better, and he's willing to pass it on at Devine's figure to anyone who will take it off his hands. Now, I'll find you a man or two andtools, and when they're ready, you'll start right away for the Canopusand build that flume."

  "The difficulty is that I haven't the least notion how to build aflume."

  Saxton made a little impatient gesture. "Then I guess you have got tolearn, and there are plenty of men to be hired in the bush who do. Youknow how to rough down redwood logs and blow out rocks?"

  Brooke admitted that he did, and Saxton nodded.

  "Then the thing's quite easy," he said. "You look at the one they've gotalready, and make another like it. Haven't you found out yet that a mancan do 'most anything that another one can?"

  "Well," said Brooke, "I'll try it, but that brings us to the question,what else do you expect from me? It is very probable that I shall makean unfortunate mistake for both of us, if you leave me in the dark. Iwant to understand the position."

  Saxton explained it at length, and Brooke leaned back in his chair,glancing abstractedly through the open door as he listened, for his mindtook in the details mechanically, while his thoughts were otherwisebusy. He saw the dusky forest he had toiled and lost hope in, and then,turning his head a trifle, the comfortless dingy room and Saxton'sintent face and eager eyes. He was speaking with little nervousgestures, vehemently, and all the sensibility that the struggle had leftin Brooke shrank from the sordidness of the compact he had made withhim. The fact that his confederate apparently considered their purposeperfectly legitimate and even commendable, intensified the disgust hefelt, but once more he told himself that he could not afford to beparticular. There was, it seemed, a price to everything, and if he wasever to regain his status he must let no more opportunities slip pasthim.

  Still the memory of the old house in the English valley, and a certainsilver-haired lady who had long ago paced the velvet lawns that sweptabout it with her white hand upon his shoulder, returned to trouble him.She had endeavored to instil the fine sense of honor that guided her ownlife into him, and he remembered her wholesome pride and the storiesshe had told him of the men who had gone forth from that quiet homebefore him. Most of them had served their nation well, even those whohad hewn down the ancient oaks and mortgaged the wheat-land in thereckless Georgian days, and now, when the white-haired lady slept in thestill valley, he was about to sell the honor she had held priceless forsix thousand dollars in Western Canada. Nevertheless, he strove topersuade himself that the times had changed and the old codes vanished,and sat still listening while Saxton, stained with soil and water fromthe mine, talked on, and gesticulated with a bleeding hand. He touchedupon frontages, ore-leads, record and patents from the Crown, and thenstopped abruptly, and looked hard at Brooke.

  "Now I think you've got it all," he said.

  "Yes," said Brooke, whose face had grown a trifle grim, "I fancy I have.I am to find out, if I can, how far the third drift runs west, and whenthe driving of it began. Then one of us will stake off a claim onDevine's holding and endeavor, with the support of the other, to holdhis own in as t
ough a struggle as was probably ever undertaken by twomen in our position. You see I have met Devine."

  Saxton laughed. "I guess he's not going to give us very much trouble.He'll buy us off instead, once we make it plain that we have got thewhip hand of him. Your share's six thousand dollars, and if you laythem out as I tell you, you'll go back to England a prosperous man."

  Brooke smiled a trifle drily. "I hope so," he said. "Still, I shall haveleft more than I could buy with a great many dollars behind me inCanada."

  "Dollars will buy you anything," said Saxton. "That is, when you haveenough of them. They're going to buy me a seat in the ProvincialLegislature by and by. Then I'll let the business slide, and start indoing something for the other folks. We've got 'most everything but menhere, and I'll bring out your starving deadbeats from England and makethem happy--like Strathcona."

  Brooke looked hard at him, and then leaned back in his chair, andlaughed when he saw that he was perfectly serious.