CORPORAL CAMERON OF THE NORTH WEST MOUNTED POLICE

A TALE OF THE MACLEOD TRAIL

By Ralph Connor

BOOK I

I THE QUITTER

II THE GLEN OF THE CUP OF GOLD

III THE FAMILY SOLICITOR

IV A QUESTION OF HONOUR

V A LADY AND THE LAW

VI THE WASTER'S REFUGE

VII FAREWELL TO CUAGH OIR

VIII WILL HE COME BACK?

BOOK II

I HO FOR THE OPEN!

II A MAN'S JOB

III A DAY'S WORK

IV A RAINY DAY

V HOW THEY SAVED THE DAY

VI A SABBATH DAY IN LATE AUGUST

VII THE CHIVAREE

VIII IN APPLE TIME

BOOK III

I THE CAMP BY THE GAP

II ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM

III THE STONIES

IV THE DULL RED STAIN

V SERGEANT CRISP

VI A DAY IN THE MACLEOD BARRACKS

VII THE MAKING OF BRAVES

VIII NURSE HALEY

IX "CORPORAL" CAMERON

CORPORAL CAMERON

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER I

THE QUITTER

"Oh-h-h-h, Cam-er-on!" Agony, reproach, entreaty, vibrated in the clearyoung voice that rang out over the Inverleith grounds. The Scottishline was sagging!--that line invincible in two years of Internationalconflict, the line upon which Ireland and England had broken theirpride. Sagging! And because Cameron was weakening! Cameron, thebrilliant half-back, the fierce-fighting, erratic young Highlander, disciplined, steadied by the great Dunn into an instrument of Scotland'sglory! Cameron going back! A hush fell on the thronged seats and packedinner-circle, --a breathless, dreadful hush of foreboding. High over thehushed silence that vibrant cry rang; and Cameron heard it. The voice heknew. It was young Rob Dunn's, the captain's young brother, whose soulknew but two passions, one for the captain and one for the half-back ofthe Scottish International. 

And Cameron responded. The enemy's next high punt found him rock-likein steadiness. And rock-like he tossed high over his shoulders thetow-headed Welshman rushing joyously at him, and delivered his ball fardown the line safe into touch. But after his kick he was observed tolimp back into his place. The fierce pace of the Welsh forwards wasdrinking the life of the Scottish backline. 

An hour; then a half; then another half, without a score. And now thefinal quarter was searching, searching the weak spots in their line. Thefinal quarter it is that finds a man's history and habits; the clean ofblood and of life defy its pitiless probe, but the rotten fibre yieldsand snaps. That momentary weakness of Cameron's like a subtle poisonruns through the Scottish line; and like fluid lightning through theWelsh. It is the touch upon the trembling balance. With cries exultantwith triumph, the Welsh forwards fling themselves upon the steady Scotsnow fighting for life rather than for victory. And under their captain'sdirections these fierce, victory-sniffing Welsh are delivering theirattack upon the spot where he fancies he has found a yielding. In vainCameron rallies his powers; his nerve is failing him, his strength isdone. Only five minutes to play, but one minute is enough. Down uponhim through a broken field, dribbling the ball and following hard likehounds on a hare, come the Welsh, the tow-head raging in front, bloodyand fearsome. There is but one thing for Cameron to do; grip thattumbling ball, and, committing body and soul to fate, plunge intothat line. Alas, his doom is upon him! He grips the ball, pauses amoment--only a fatal moment, --but it is enough. His plunge is too late. He loses the ball. A surge of Welshmen overwhelm him in the mud andcarry the ball across. The game is won--and lost. What though the Scots, like demons suddenly released from hell, the half-back Cameron mostdemon-like of all, rage over the field, driving the Welshmen hither andthither at will, the gods deny them victory; it is for Wales that day!

In the retreat of their rubbing-room the gay, gallant humour which theScots have carried with them off the field of their defeat, vanishesinto gloom. Through the steaming silence a groan breaks now and then. Atlength a voice:

"Oh, wasn't it rotten! The rank quitter that he is!"

"Quitter? Who is? Who says so?" It was the captain's voice, sharp withpassion. 

"I do, Dunn. It was Cameron lost us the game. You know it, too. I knowit's rotten to say this, but I can't help it. Cameron lost the game, andI say he's a rank 'quitter, ' as Martin would say. "

"Look here, Nesbitt, " the captain's voice was quiet, but every manpaused in his rubbing. "I know how sore you are and I forgive you that;but I don't want to hear from you or from any man on the team that wordagain. Cameron is no quitter; he made--he made an error, --he wasn'tfit, --but I say to you Cameron is no quitter. "

While he was speaking the door opened and into the room came a player, tall, lanky, with a pale, gaunt face, plastered over the forehead withdamp wisps of straight, black hair. His deep-set, blue-grey eyes sweptthe room. 

"Thanks, Dunn, " he said hoarsely. "Let them curse me! I deserve it all. It's tough for them, but God knows I've got the worst of it. I've playedmy last game. " His voice broke huskily. 

"Oh, rot it, Cameron, " cried Dunn. "Don't be an ass! Your first biggame--every fellow makes his mistake--"

"Mistake! Mistake! You can't lie easily, Dunn. I was a fool and worsethan a fool. I let myself down and I wasn't fit. Anyway, I'm throughwith it. " His voice was wild and punctuated with unaccustomed oaths; hisbreath came in great sobs. 

"Oh, rot it, Cameron!" again cried Dunn. "Next year you'll be twice theman. You're just getting into your game. "

Right loyally his men rallied to their captain:

"Right you are!"

"Why, certainly; no man gets into the game first year!"

"We'll give 'em beans next year, Cameron, old man!"

They were all eager to atone for the criticism which all had held intheir hearts and which one of them had spoken. But this business wasserious. To lose a game was bad enough, but to round on a comrade wasunpardonable; while to lose from the game a half-back of Cameron'scalibre was unthinkable. 

Meanwhile Cameron was tearing off his football togs and hustling on hisclothes with fierce haste. Dunn kept his eye on him, hurrying his owndressing and chatting quietly the while. But long before he was readyfor the street, Cameron had crushed his things into a bag and waslooking for his hat. 

"Hold on! I'm with you; I'm with you in a jiffy, " said Dunn. 

"My hat, " muttered Cameron, searching wildly among the jumble. 

"Oh, hang the hat; let it go! Wait for me, Cameron. Where are yougoing?" cried Dunn. 

"To the devil, " cried the lad, slamming the door behind him. 

"And, by Jove, he'll go, too!" said Nesbitt. "Say, I'm awfully sorry Imade that break, Dunn. It was beastly low-down to round on a chap likethat. I'll go after him. "

"Do, old chap! He's frightfully cut up. And get him for to-night. Hemay fight shy of the dinner. But he's down for the pipes, you know, and--well, he's just got to be there. Good-bye, you chaps; I'm off!And--I say, men!" When Dunn said "men" they all knew it was theircaptain that was speaking. Everybody stood listening. Dunn hesitated amoment or two, as if searching for words. "About the dinner to-night:I'd like you to remember--I mean--I don't want any man to--oh, hang it, you know what I mean! There will be lots of fellows there who will wantto fill you up. I'd hate to see any of our team--" The captain pausedembarrassed. 

"We tumble, Captain, " said Martin, a medical student from Canada, whoplayed quarter. "I'll keep an eye on 'em, you bet!"

Everybody roared; for not only on the quarter-line but also at thedinner table the little quarter-back was a marvel of endurance. 

"Hear the blooming Colonist!" said Linklater, Martin's comrade onthe quarter-line, and his greatest friend. "We know who'll want thewatching, but we'll see to him, Captain. "

"All right, old chap! Sorry I'll have to cut the van. I'm afraid mygovernor's got the carriage here for me. "

But the men all made outcry. There were other plans for him. 

"But, Captain; hold on!"

"Aw, now, Captain! Don't forsake us!"

"But I say, Dunn, see us through; we're shy!"

"Don't leave us, Captain, or you'll be sorry, " sang out Martin. "Comeon, fellows, let's keep next him! We'll give him 'Old Grimes!'"

Already a mighty roar was heard outside. The green, the drive, thegateways, and the street were blocked with the wildest football fanaticsthat Edinburgh, and all Scotland could produce. They were waiting forthe International players, and were bent on carrying their great captaindown the street, shoulder high; for the enthusiasm of the Scot reachesthe point of madness only in the hour of glorious defeat. But beforethey were aware, Dunn had shouldered his mighty form through theopposing crowds and had got safely into the carriage beside his fatherand his young brother. But the crowd were bound to have him. 

"We want him, Docthor, " said a young giant in a tam-o'-shanter. "Infac', Docthor, " he argued with a humourous smile, "we maun hae him. "

"Ye'll no' get him, Jock Murchison, " shouted young Rob, standing infront of his big brother. "We want him wi' us. "

The crowd laughed gleefully. 

"Go for him, Jock! You can easy lick him, " said a voice encouragingly. 

"Pit him oot, Docthor, " said Jock, who was a great friend of the family, and who had a profound respect for the doctor. 

"It's beyond me, Jock, I fear. See yon bantam cock! I doubt ye'll hae tobe content, " said the doctor, dropping into Jock's kindly Doric. 

"Oh, get on there, Murchison, " said Dunn impatiently. "You're not goingto make an ass of me; make up your mind to that!"

Jock hesitated, meditating a sudden charge, but checked by his respectfor Doctor Dunn. 

"Here, you fellows!" shouted a voice. "Fall in; the band is going toplay! Get into line there, you Tam-o'-shanter; you're stopping theprocesh! Now then, wait for the line, everybody!" It was Little Martinon top of the van in which were the Scottish players. "Tune, 'OldGrimes'; words as follows. Catch on, everybody!"

 "Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn. "

With a delighted cheer the crowd formed in line, and, led by the littlequarter-back on top of the van, they set off down the street, two men atthe heads of the doctor's carriage horses, holding them in place behindthe van. On went the swaying crowd and on went the swaying chant, withMartin, director of ceremonies and Dunn hurling unavailing objurgationsand entreaties at Jock's head. 

Through the uproar a girl's voice reached the doctor's ear:

"Aren't they lovely, Sir?"

The doctor turned to greet a young lady, tall, strong, and with thebeauty of perfect health rather than of classic feature in her face. There was withal a careless disregard of the feminine niceties of dress. 

"Oh, Miss Brodie! Will you not come up? We can easily make room. "

"I'd just love to, " cried the girl, "but I'm only a humble member of theprocession, following the band and the chariot wheels of the conqueror. "Her strong brown face was all aglow with ardour. 

"Conqueror!" growled Dunn. "Not much of a conqueror!"

"Why not? Oh fudge! The game? What matters the game? It's the play wecare about. "

"Well spoken, lassie, " said the doctor. "That's the true sport. "

"Aren't they awful?" cried Dunn. "Look at that young Canadian idiot upthere. "

"Well, if you ask me, I think he's a perfect dear, " said Miss Brodie, deliberately. "I'm sure I know him; anyway I'm going to encourage himwith my approval. " And she waved her hand at Martin. 

The master of ceremonies responded by taking off his hat and making asweeping bow, still keeping up the beat. The crowd, following his eyes, turned their attention to the young lady, much to Dunn's delight. 

"Oh, " she gasped, "they'll be chanting me next! Good-bye! I'm off!" Andshe darted back to the company of her friends marching on the pavement. 

At this point Martin held up both arms and called for silence. 

"Second verse, " he shouted, "second verse! Get the words now!"

 "Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done. "

But the crowd rejected the Colonial version, and rendered in their owngood Doric:

 "Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done. "

And so they sang and swayed, following the van till they neared QueenStreet, down which lay the doctor's course. 

"For heaven's sake, can't they be choked off?" groaned Dunn. 

The doctor signalled Jock to him. 

"Jock, " he said, "we'll just slip through at Queen Street. "

"We'd like awfully to do Princes Street, Sir, " pleaded Jock. 

"Princes Street, you born ass!" cried Dunn wrathfully. 

"Oh, yes, let them!" cried young Rob, whose delight in the glory ofhis hero had been beyond all measure. "Let them do Princes Street, justonce!"

But the doctor would not have it. "Jock, " he said quietly, "just get usthrough at Queen Street. "

"All right, Sir, " replied Jock with great regret. "It will be as yousay. "

Under Jock's orders, when Queen Street was reached, the men at thehorses' heads suddenly swung the pair from the crowd, and after somestruggling, got them safely into the clear space, leaving the processionto follow the van, loudly cheering their great International captain, whose prowess on the field was equalled only by his modesty and hishatred of a demonstration. 

"Listen to the idiots, " said Dunn in disgust, as the carriage bore themaway from the cheering crowd. 

"Man, they're just fine! Aren't they, Father?" said young Rob in anecstasy of joy. 

"They're generous lads, generous lads, boy, " said Doctor Dunn, his oldeyes shining, for his son's triumph touched him deeply. "That's the onlyway to take defeat. "

"That's all right, Sir, " said Dunn quickly, "but it's ratherembarrassing, though it's awfully decent of them. "

The doctor's words suggested fresh thoughts to young Rob. "But it wasterrible; and you were just on the win, too, I know. "

"I'm not so sure at all, " said his brother. 

"Oh, it is terrible, " said Bob again. 

"Tut, tut, lad! What's so terrible?" said his father. "One side has tolose. "

"Oh, it's not that, " said Rob, his lip trembling. "I don't care a snifffor the game. "

"What, then?" said his big brother in a voice sharpened by his ownthoughts. 

"Oh, Jack, " said Rob, nervously wreathing his hands, "he--it looked asif he--" the lad could not bring himself to say the awful word. Nor wasthere need to ask who it was the boy had in mind. 

"What do you mean, Rob?" the captain's voice was impatient, almostangry. 

Then Rob lost his control. "Oh, Jack, I can't help it; I saw it. Doyou think--did he really funk it?" His voice broke. He clutched hisbrother's knee and stood with face white and quivering. He had givenutterance to the terrible suspicion that was torturing his heroic youngsoul. Of his two household gods one was tottering on its pedestal. Thata football man should funk--the suspicion was too dreadful. 

The captain glanced at his father's face. There was gloom there, too, and the same terrible suspicion. "No, Sir, " said Dunn, with impressivedeliberation, answering the look on his father's face, "Cameron isno quitter. He didn't funk. I think, " he continued, while Rob'stear-stained face lifted eagerly, "I know he was out of condition; hehad let himself run down last week, since the last match, indeed, gotout of hand a bit, you know, and that last quarter--you know, Sir, thatlast quarter was pretty stiff--his nerve gave just for a moment. "

"Oh, " said the doctor in a voice of relief, "that explains it. But, " headded quickly in a severe tone, "it was very reprehensible for a man onthe International to let himself get out of shape, very reprehensibleindeed. An International, mind you!"

"It was my fault, Sir, I'm afraid, " said Dunn, regretfully. "I ought tohave--"

"Nonsense! A man must be responsible for himself. Control, to be of anyvalue, must be ultroneous, as our old professor used to say. "

"That's true, Sir, but I had kept pretty close to him up to the lastweek, you see, and--"

"Bad training, bad training. A trainer's business is to school his mento do without him. "

"That is quite right, Sir. I believe I've been making a mistake, " saidDunn thoughtfully. "Poor chap, he's awfully cut up!"

"So he should be, " said the doctor sternly. "He had no business to getout of condition. The International, mind you!"

"Oh, Father, perhaps he couldn't help it, " cried Rob, whose loyal, tender heart was beating hard against his little ribs, "and he looksawful. I saw him come out and when I called to him he never looked at meonce. "

There is no finer loyalty in this world than that of a boy below histeens. It is so without calculation, without qualification, and withoutreserve. Dr. Dunn let his eyes rest kindly upon his little flushed face. 

"Perhaps so, perhaps so, my boy, " he said, "and I have no doubt heregrets it now more than any of us. Where has he gone?"

"Nesbitt's after him, Sir. He'll get him for to-night. "

But as Dunn, fresh from his bath, but still sore and stiff, wasindulging in a long-banished pipe, Nesbitt came in to say that Cameroncould not be found. 

"And have you not had your tub yet?" said his captain. 

"Oh, that's all right! You know I feel awfully about that beastly remarkof mine. "

"Oh, let it go, " said Dunn. "That'll be all right. You get right awayhome for your tub and get freshened up for to-night. I'll look afterCameron. You know he is down for the pipes. He's simply got to be thereand I'll get him if I have to bring him in a crate, pipes, kilt andall. "

And Nesbitt, knowing that Dunn never promised what he could not fulfil, went off to his tub in fair content. He knew his captain. 

As Dunn was putting on his coat Rob came in, distress written on hisface. 

"Are you going to get Cameron, Jack?" he asked timidly. "I askedNesbitt, and he said--"

"Now look here, youngster, " said his big brother, then paused. Thedistress in the lad's face checked his words. "Now, Rob, " he saidkindly, "you needn't fret about this. Cameron is all right. "

The kind tone broke down the lad's control. He caught his brother'sarm. "Say, Jack, are you sure--he didn't--funk?" His voice dropped to awhisper. 

Then his big brother sat down and drew the lad to his side, "Now listen, Rob; I'm going to tell you the exact truth. CAMERON DID NOT FUNK. Thetruth is, he wasn't fit, --he ought to have been, but he wasn't, --andbecause he wasn't fit he came mighty near quitting--for a moment, I'msure, he felt like it, because his nerve was gone, --but he didn't. Remember, he felt like quitting and didn't, And that's the finest thinga chap can do, --never to quit, even when he feels like it. Do you see?"

The lad's head went up. "I see, " he said, his eyes glowing. "It wasfine! I'm awfully glad he didn't quit, 'specially when he felt like it. You tell him for me. " His idol was firm again on his pedestal. 

"All right, old chap, " said his big brother. "You'll never quit, I bet!"

"Not if I'm fit, will I?"

"Right you are! Keep fit--that's the word!"

And with that the big brother passed out to find the man who waswrithing in an agony of self-contempt; for in the face of all Scotlandand in the hour of her need he had failed because he wasn't fit. 

After an hour Dunn found his man, fixed in the resolve to there and thenabandon the game with all the appurtenances thereof, and among these thedinner. Mightily his captain laboured with him, plying him with varyingmotives, --the honour of the team was at stake; the honour of the countrywas at stake; his own honour, for was he not down on the programme forthe pipes? It was all in vain. In dogged gloom the half-back listenedunmoved. 

At length Dunn, knowing well the Highlander's tender heart, cunninglytouched another string and told of Rob's distress and subsequent relief, and then gave his half-back the boy's message. "I promised to tell you, and I almost forgot. The little beggar was terribly worked up, and asI remember it, this is what he said: 'I'm awfully glad he didn't quit, 'specially when he felt like it. ' Those were his very words. "

Then Cameron buried his face in his hands and groaned aloud, while Dunn, knowing that he had reached his utmost, stood silent, waiting. SuddenlyCameron flung up his head:

"Did he say I didn't quit? Good little soul! I'll go; I'd go throughhell for that!"

And so it came that not in a crate, but in the gallant garb of aHighland gentleman, pipes and all, Cameron was that night in his place, fighting out through the long hilarious night the fiercest fight of hislife, chiefly because of the words that lay like a balm to his laceratedheart:

"He didn't quit, 'specially when he felt like it. "

CHAPTER II

THE GLEN OF THE CUP OF GOLD

Just over the line of the Grampians, near the head-waters of the Spey, aglen, small and secluded, lies bedded deep among the hills, --a glen thatwhen filled with sunlight on a summer day lies like a cup of gold; thegold all liquid and flowing over the cup's rim. And hence they call theglen "The Cuagh Oir, " The Glen of the Cup of Gold. 

At the bottom of the Cuagh, far down, a little loch gleams, an oval ofemerald or of sapphire, according to the sky above that smiles intoits depths. On dark days the loch can gloom, and in storm it can rage, white-lipped, just like the people of the Glen. 

Around the emerald or sapphire loch farmlands lie sunny and warm, setabout their steadings, and are on this spring day vivid with green, or rich in their red-browns where the soil lies waiting for the seed. Beyond the sunny fields the muirs of brown heather and bracken climbabruptly up to the dark-massed firs, and they to the Cuagh's rim. Butfrom loch to rim, over field and muir and forest, the golden, liquidlight ever flows on a sunny day and fills the Cuagh Oir till it runsover. 

On the east side of the loch, among some ragged firs, a rambling ManorHouse, ivy-covered and ancient, stood; and behind it, some distanceaway, the red tiling of a farm-cottage, with its steading clusteringnear, could be seen. About the old Manor House the lawn and gardentold of neglect and decay, but at the farmhouse order reigned. The trimlittle garden plot, the trim lawn, the trim walks and hedges, the trimthatch of the roof, the trim do'-cote above it, the trim stables, byres, barns and yard of the steading, proclaimed the prudent, thrifty care ofa prudent, thrifty soul. 

And there in the steading quadrangle, amidst the feathered creatures, hens, cocks and chicks, ducks, geese, turkeys and bubbly-jocks, stoodthe mistress of the Manor and prudent, thrifty manager of the farm, --agirl of nineteen, small, well-made, and trim as the farmhouse and itssurroundings, with sunny locks and sunny face and sunny brown eyes. Hershapely hands were tanned and coarsened by the weather; her little feetwere laced in stout country-made brogues; her dress was a plain brownwinsey, kilted and belted open at the full round neck; the kerchief thathad fallen from her sunny, tangled hair was of simple lawn, spotlessand fresh; among her fowls she stood, a country lass in habit andoccupation, but in face and form, in look and poise, a lady every inchof her. Dainty and daunty, sweet and strong, she stood, "the bonny likeo' her bonny mither, " as said the South Country nurse, Nannie, who hadalways lived at the Glen Cuagh House from the time that that mother wasa baby; "but no' sae fine like, " the nurse would add with a sigh. Forshe remembered ever the gentle airs and the high-bred, stately grace ofMary Robertson, --for though married to Captain Cameron of Erracht, Mary Robertson she continued to be to the Glen folk, --the lady of herancestral manor, now for five years lain under the birch trees yonder bythe church tower that looked out from its clustering firs and bircheson the slope beyond the loch. Five years ago the gentle lady had passedfrom them, but like the liquid, golden sunlight, and like the perfume ofthe heather and the firs, the aroma of her saintly life still filled theGlen. 

A year after that grief had fallen, Moira, her one daughter, "the bonnylike o' her bonny mither, though no' sae fine, " had somehow slippedinto command of the House Farm, the only remaining portion of the widedemesne of farmlands once tributary to the House. And by the thriftwhich she learned from her South Country nurse in the care of herpoultry and her pigs, and by her shrewd oversight of the thriftless, doddling Highland farmer and his more thriftless and more doddlingwomenfolk, she brought the farm to order and to a basis of profitablereturns. And this, too, with so little "clash and claver" that herfather only knew that somehow things were more comfortable about theplace, and that there were fewer calls than formerly upon his pursefor the upkeep of the House and home. Indeed, the less appeared Moira'smanagement, both in the routine of the House and in the care of thefarm, the more peacefully flowed the current of their life. It seriouslyannoyed the Captain at intervals when he came upon his daughterdirecting operations in barnyard or byre. That her directing meantanything more than a girlish meddling in matters that were his entireconcern and about which he had already given or was about to giveorders, the Captain never dreamed. That things about the House weresomehow prospering in late years he set down to his own skill andmanagement and his own knowledge of scientific farming; a knowledgewhich, moreover, he delighted to display at the annual dinners of theSociety for the Improvement of Agriculture in the Glen, of which he washonourary secretary; a knowledge which he aired in lengthy articles inlocal agricultural and other periodicals; a knowledge which, however, at times became the occasion of dismay to his thrifty daughter and herHighland farmer, and not seldom the occasion of much useless expenditureof guineas hard won from pigs and poultry. True, more serious loss wasoften averted by the facility with which the Captain turned from onescheme to another, happily forgetful of orders he had given and whichwere never carried out; and by the invincible fabianism of the Highlandfarmer, who, listening with gravest attention to the Captain's ordersdelivered in the most definite and impressive terms, would makereply, "Yess, yess indeed, I know; she will be attending to itimmediately--tomorrow, or fery soon whateffer. " It cannot be said thatthis capacity for indefinite procrastination rendered the Highlander anyless valuable to his "tear young leddy. "

The days on which Postie appeared with a large bundle of mail wereaccounted good days by the young mistress, for on these and succeedingdays her father would be "busy with his correspondence. " And these dayswere not few, for the Captain held many honourary offices in countyand other associations for the promotion and encouragement of variousactivities, industrial, social, and philanthropic. Of the importance ofthese activities to the county and national welfare, the Captain had nomanner of doubt, as his voluminous correspondence testified. As to theworth of his correspondence his daughter, too, held the highestopinion, estimating her father, as do all dutiful daughters, at his ownvaluation. For the Captain held himself in high esteem; not simply forhis breeding, which was of the Camerons of Erracht; nor for his manners, which were of the most courtly, if occasionally marred by fretfulness;nor for his dress, which was that of a Highland gentleman, perfect indetail and immaculate, but for his many and public services rendered tothe people, the county, and the nation. Indeed his mere membership duesto the various associations, societies and committees with which hewas connected, and his dining expenses contingent upon their annualmeetings, together with the amounts expended upon the equipment andadornment of his person proper to such festive occasions, cut so deepinto the slender resources of the family as to give his prudent daughtersome considerable concern; though it is safe to say that such concernher father would have regarded not only as unnecessary but almost asimpertinent. 

The Captain's correspondence, however extensive, was on the wholeregarded by his daughter as a good rather than an evil, in that itsecured her domestic and farm activities from disturbing incursions. This spring morning Moira's apprehensions awakened by an extremely lightmail, were realized, as she beheld her father bearing down upon herwith an open letter in his hand. His handsome face was set in a fretfulfrown. 

"Moira, my daughter!" he exclaimed, "how often have I spoke to you aboutthis--this--unseemly--ah--mussing and meddling in the servants' duties!"

"But, Papa, " cried his daughter, "look at these dear things! I love themand they all know me, and they behave so much better when I feed themmyself. Do they not, Janet?" she added, turning to the stout and sonsyfarmer's daughter standing by. 

"Indeed, then, they are clever at knowing you, " replied the maid, whoseparticular duty was to hold a reserve supply of food for the fowls thatclamoured and scrambled about her young mistress. 

"Look at that vain bubbly-jock there, Papa, " cried Moira, "he loves tohave me notice him. Conceited creature! Look out, Papa, he does not likeyour kilts!" The bubbly-jock, drumming and scraping and sidling evernearer to the Captain's naked knees, finally with great outcry flewstraight at the affronting kilts. 

"Get off with you, you beast!" cried the Captain, kicking vainly at thewrathful bird, and at the same time beating a wise retreat before hisonset. 

Moira rushed to his rescue. "Hoot, Jock! Shame on ye!" she cried. "Therenow, you proud thing, be off! He's just jealous of your fine appearance, Papa. " With her kerchief she flipped into submission the haughtybubbly-jock and drew her father out of the steading. "Come away, Papa, and see my pigs. "

But the Captain was in no humour for pigs. "Nonsense, child, " he cried, "let us get out of this mess! Besides, I wish to speak to you on amatter of importance. " They passed through the gate. "It is aboutAllan, " he continued, "and I'm really vexed. Something terrible hashappened. "

"Allan!" the girl's voice was faint and her sunny cheek grew white. "About Allan!" she said again. "And what is wrong with Allan, Papa?"

"That's what I do not know, " replied her father fretfully; "but Imust away to Edinburgh this very day, so you'll need to hasten with mypacking. And bid Donald bring round the cart at once. "

But Moira stood dazed. "But, Papa, you have not told me what is wrongwith Allan. " Her voice was quiet, but with a certain insistence in itthat at once irritated her father and compelled his attention. 

"Tut, tut, Moira, I have just said I do not know. "

"Is he ill, Papa?" Again the girl's voice grew faint. 

"No, no, not ill. I wish he were! I mean it is some business matter youcannot understand. But it must be serious if Mr. Rae asks my presenceimmediately. So you must hasten, child. "

In less than half an hour Donald and the cart were waiting at the door, and Moira stood in the hall with her father's bag ready packed. "Oh, Iam glad, " she said, as she helped her father with his coat, "that Allanis not ill. There can't be much wrong. "

"Wrong! Read that, child!" cried the father impatiently. 

She took the letter and read, her face reflecting her changing emotions, perplexity, surprise, finally indignation. "'A matter for the police, '"she quoted, scornfully, handing her father the letter. "'A matter forthe police' indeed! My but that Mr. Rae is the clever man! The police!Does he think my brother Allan would cheat?--or steal, perhaps!" shepanted, in her indignant scorn. 

"Mr. Rae is a careful man and a very able lawyer, " replied her father. 

"Able! Careful! He's an auld wife, and that's what he is! You can tellhim so for me. " She was trembling and white with a wrath her father hadnever before seen in her. He stood gazing at her in silent surprise. 

"Papa, " cried Moira passionately, answering his look, "do you think whathe is saying? I know my brother Allan clean through to the heart. Heis wild at times, and might rage perhaps and--and--break things, but hewill not lie nor cheat. He will die first, and that I warrant you. "

Still her father stood gazing upon her as she stood proudly erect, her pale face alight with lofty faith in her brother and scorn of histraducer. "My child, my child, " he said, huskily, "how like you are toyour mother! Thank God! Indeed it may be you're right! God grant it!" Hedrew her closely to him. 

"Papa, Papa, " she whispered, clinging to him, while her voice broke in asob, "you know Allan will not lie. You know it, don't you, Papa?"

"I hope not, dear child, I hope not, " he replied, still holding her tohim. 

"Papa, " she cried wildly, "say you believe me. "

"Yes, yes, I do believe you. Thank God, I do believe you. The boy isstraight. "

At that word she let him go. That her father should not believe in Allanwas to her loyal heart an intolerable pain. Now Allan would have someoneto stand for him against "that lawyer" and all others who might seek todo him harm. At the House door she stood watching her father drive downthrough the ragged firs to the highroad, and long after he had passedout of sight she still stood gazing. Upon the church tower rising out ofits birches and its firs her eyes were resting, but her heart waswith the little mound at the tower's foot, and as she gazed, the tearsgathered and fell. 

"Oh, Mother!" she whispered. "Mother, Mother! You know Allan would notlie!"

A sudden storm was gathering. In a brief moment the world and the Glenhad changed. But half an hour ago and the Cuagh Oir was lying gloriouswith its flowing gold. Now, from the Cuagh as from her world, theflowing gold was gone. 

CHAPTER III

THE FAMILY SOLICITOR

The senior member of the legal firm of Rae & Macpherson was perplexedand annoyed, indeed angry, and angry chiefly because he was perplexed. He resented such a condition of mind as reflecting upon his legal andother acumen. Angry, too, he was because he had been forced to accept, the previous day, a favour from a firm--Mr. Rae would not condescend tosay a rival firm--with which he for thirty years had maintained onlythe most distant and formal relations, to wit, the firm of Thomlinson &Shields. Messrs. Rae & Macpherson were family solicitors and for threegenerations had been such; hence there gathered about the firm a fineflavour of assured respectability which only the combination of solidintegrity and undoubted antiquity can give. Messrs. Rae & Macpherson hadnot yielded in the slightest degree to that commercialising spiritwhich would transform a respectable and self-respecting firm of familysolicitors into a mere financial agency; a transformation which Mr. Raewould consider a degradation of an ancient and honourable profession. This uncompromising attitude toward the commercialising spirit of theage had doubtless something to do with their losing the solicitorshipfor the Bank of Scotland, which went to the firm of Thomlinson &Shields, to Mr. Rae's keen, though unacknowledged, disappointment;a disappointment that arose not so much from the loss of the veryhonourable and lucrative appointment, and more from the fact that theappointment should go to such a firm as that of Thomlinson & Shields. For the firm of Thomlinson & Shields were of recent origin, withoutancestry, boasting an existence of only some thirty-five years, and, asone might expect of a firm of such recent origin, characterised by thecommercialising modern spirit in its most pronounced and objectionableform. Mr. Rae, of course, would never condescend to hostile criticism, dismissing Messrs. Thomlinson & Shields from the conversation with thesingle remark, "Pushing, Sir, very pushing, indeed. "

It was, then, no small humiliation for Mr. Rae to be forced to accepta favour from Mr. Thomlinson. "Had it been any other than Cameron, " hesaid to himself, as he sat in his somewhat dingy and dusty office, "I would let him swither. But Cameron! I must see to it and at once. "Behind the name there rose before Mr. Rae's imagination a long lineof brave men and fair women for whose name and fame and for whose goodestate it had been his duty and the duty of those who had preceded himin office to assume responsibility. 

"Young fool! Much he cares for the honour of his family! I wonder what'sat the bottom of this business! Looks ugly! Decidedly ugly! The firstthing is to find him. " A messenger had failed to discover young Cameronat his lodgings, and had brought back the word that for a week hehad not been seen there. "He must be found. They have given me tillto-morrow. I cannot ask a further stay of proceedings; I cannot and Iwill not. " It made Mr. Rae more deeply angry that he knew quite wellif necessity arose he would do just that very thing. "Then there's hisfather coming in this evening. We simply must find him. But how andwhere?"

Mr. Rae was not unskilled in such a matter. "Find a man, find hisfriends, " he muttered. "Let's see. What does the young fool do? Whatare his games? Ah! Football! I have it! Young Dunn is my man. " Hence toyoung Dunn forthwith Mr. Rae betook himself. 

It was still early in the day when Mr. Rae's mild, round, jolly, clean-shaven face beamed in upon Mr. Dunn, who sat with dictionaries, texts, and class notebooks piled high about him, burrowing in thatmound of hidden treasure which it behooves all prudent aspirants foruniversity honours to diligently mine as the fateful day approaches. With Mr. Dunn time had now come to be measured by moments, and everymoment golden. But the wrathful impatience that had gathered in hisface at the approach of an intruder was overwhelmed in astonishment atrecognising so distinguished a visitor as Mr. Rae the Writer. 

"Ah, Mr. Dunn, " said Mr. Rae briskly, "a moment only, one moment, Iassure you. Well do I know the rage which boils behind that genial smileof yours. Don't deny it, Sir. Have I not suffered all the pangs, withjust a week before the final ordeal? This is your final, I believe?"

"I hope so, " said Mr. Dunn somewhat ruefully. 

"Yes, yes, and a very fine career, a career befitting your father'sson. And I sincerely trust, Sir, that as your career has been marked byhonour, your exit shall be with distinction; and all the more that I amnot unaware of your achievements in another department of--ah--shall Isay endeavour. I have seen your name, Sir, mentioned more than once, to the honour of our university, in athletic events. " At this point Mr. Rae's face broke into a smile. 

An amazing smile was Mr. Rae's; amazing both in the suddenness ofits appearing and in the suddenness of its vanishing. Upon a face ofsupernatural gravity, without warning, without beginning, the smile, broad, full and effulgent, was instantaneously present. Then equallywithout warning and without fading the smile ceased to be. Under itseffulgence the observer unfamiliar with Mr. Rae's smile was moved, to aresponsive geniality of expression, but in the full tide of this emotionhe found himself suddenly regarding a face of such preternatural gravityas rebuked the very possibility or suggestion of geniality. Before thesmile Mr. Rae's face was like a house, with the shutters up and thefamily plunged in gloom. When the smile broke forth every shutter wasflung wide to the pouring sunlight, and every window full of flowersand laughing children. Then instantly and without warning the housewas blank, lifeless, and shuttered once more, leaving you helplesslyapologetic that you had ever been guilty of the fatuity of associatinganything but death and gloom with its appearance. 

To young Mr. Dunn it was extremely disconcerting to discover himselfsmiling genially into a face of the severest gravity, and eyes thatrebuked him for his untimely levity. "Oh, I beg pardon, " exclaimed Mr. Dunn hastily, "I thought--"

"Not at all, Sir, " replied Mr. Rae. "As I was saying, I have observedfrom time to time the distinctions you have achieved in the realm ofathletics. And that reminds me of my business with you to-day, --a sadbusiness, a serious business, I fear. " The solemn impressiveness ofMr. Rae's manner awakened in Mr. Dunn an awe amounting to dread. "It isyoung Cameron, a friend of yours, I believe, Sir. "

"Cameron, Sir!" echoed Dunn. 

"Yes, Cameron. Does he, or did he not have a place on your team?"

Dunn sat upright and alert. "Yes, Sir. What's the matter, Sir?"

"First of all, do you know where he is? I have tried his lodgings. He isnot there. It is important that I find him to-day, extremely important;in fact, it is necessary; in short, Mr. Dunn, --I believe I can confidein your discretion, --if I do not find him to-day, the police willto-morrow. "

"The police, Sir!" Dunn's face expressed an awful fear. In the heart ofthe respectable Briton the very mention of the police in connectionwith the private life of any of his friends awakens a feeling of gravestapprehension. No wonder Mr. Dunn's face went pale! "The police!" he saida second time. "What for?"

Mr. Rae remained silent. 

"If it is a case of debts, Sir, " suggested Mr. Dunn, "why, I wouldgladly--"

Mr. Rae waved him aside. "It is sufficient to say, Mr. Dunn, that we arethe family solicitors, as we have been for his father, his grandfatherand great-grandfather before him. "

"Oh, certainly, Sir. I beg pardon, " said Mr. Dunn hastily. 

"Not at all; quite proper; does you credit. But it is not a case ofdebts, though it is a case of money; in fact, Sir, --I feel sure I mayventure to confide in you, --he is in trouble with his bank, the Bankof Scotland. The young man, or someone using his name, has been guiltyof--ah--well, an irregularity, a decided irregularity, an irregularitywhich the bank seems inclined to--to--follow up; indeed, I may say, instructions have been issued through their solicitors to that effect. Mr. Thomlinson was good enough to bring this to my attention, and tooffer a stay of proceedings for a day. "

"Can I do anything, Sir?" said Dunn. "I'm afraid I've neglected him. Thetruth is, I've been in an awful funk about my exams, and I haven't keptin touch as I should. "

"Find him, Mr. Dunn, find him. His father is coming to town thisevening, which makes it doubly imperative. Find him; that is, if you canspare the time. "

"Of course I can. I'm awfully sorry I've lost touch with him. He's beenrather down all this winter; in fact, ever since the International heseems to have lost his grip of himself. "

"Ah, indeed!" said Mr. Rae. "I remember that occasion; in fact, I waspresent myself, " he admitted. "I occasionally seek to renew my youth. "Mr. Rae's smile broke forth, but anxiety for his friend saved Mr. Dunn from being caught again in any responsive smile. "Bring him to myoffice, if you can, any time to-day. Good-bye, Sir. Your spirit does youcredit. But it is the spirit which I should expect in a man who playsthe forward line as you play it. "

Mr. Dunn blushed crimson. "Is there anything else I could do? Anyone Icould see? I mean, for instance, could my father serve in any way?"

"Ah, a good suggestion!" Mr. Rae seized his right ear, --a characteristicaction of his when in deep thought, --twisted it into a horn, and pulledit quite severely as if to assure himself that that important featureof his face was firmly fixed in its place. "A very good suggestion! Yourfather knows Mr. Sheratt, the manager of the bank, I believe. "

"Very well, Sir, I think, " answered Mr. Dunn. "I am sure he would seehim. Shall I call him in, Sir?"

"Nothing of the sort, nothing of the sort; don't think of it! I mean, let there be nothing formal in this matter. If Mr. Dunn should chance tomeet Mr. Sheratt, that is, casually, so to speak, and if young Cameron'sname should come up, and if Mr. Dunn should use his influence, his verygreat influence, with Mr. Sheratt, the bank might be induced to take amore lenient view of the case. I think I can trust you with this. " Mr. Rae shook the young man warmly by the hand, beamed on him for one briefmoment with his amazing smile, presented to his answering smile a faceof unspeakable gravity, and left him extremely uncertain as to theproper appearance for his face, under the circumstances. 

Before Mr. Rae had gained the street Dunn was planning his campaign; forno matter what business he had in hand, Dunn always worked by plan. Bythe time he himself had reached the street his plan was formed. "No usetrying his digs. Shouldn't be surprised if that beast Potts has gothim. Rotten bounder, Potts, and worse! Better go round his way. " Andoscillating in his emotions between disgust and rage at Cameron for hisweakness and his folly, and disgust and rage at himself for his neglectof his friend, Dunn took his way to the office of the Insurance Companywhich was honoured by the services of Mr. Potts. 

The Insurance Company knew nothing of the whereabouts of Mr. Potts. Indeed, the young man who assumed responsibility for the informationappeared to treat the very existence of Mr. Potts as a matter of slightimportance to his company; so slight, indeed, that the company had notfound it necessary either to the stability of its business or to theprotection of its policy holders--a prime consideration with InsuranceCompanies--to keep in touch with Mr. Potts. That gentleman had left forthe East coast a week ago, and that was the end of the matter as far asthe clerk of the Insurance Company was concerned. 

At his lodgings Mr. Dunn discovered an even more callous indifference toMr. Potts and his interests. The landlady, under the impression thatin Mr. Dunn she beheld a prospective lodger, at first received him withthat deferential reserve which is the characteristic of respectablelodging-house keepers in that city of respectable lodgers andrespectable lodging-house keepers. When, however, she learned the realnature of Mr. Dunn's errand, she became immediately transformed. In avoice shrill with indignation she repudiated Mr. Potts and his affairs, and seemed chiefly concerned to re-establish her own reputation forrespectability, which she seemed to consider as being somewhat shatteredby that of her lodger. Mr. Dunn was embarrassed both by her volubilityand by her obvious determination to fasten upon him a certain amount ofresponsibility for the character and conduct of Mr. Potts. 

"Do you know where Mr. Potts is now, and have you any idea when he mayreturn?" inquired Mr. Dunn, seizing a fortunate pause. 

"Am I no' juist tellin' ye, " cried the landlady, in her excitementreverting to her native South Country dialect, "that I keep nae coont o'Mr. Potts' stravagins? An' as to his return, I ken naething aboot thatan' care less. He's paid what he's been owing me these three months an'that's all I care aboot him. "

"I am glad to hear that, " said Mr. Dunn heartily. 

"An' glad I am tae, for it's feared I was for my pay a month back. "

"When did he pay up?" inquired Mr. Dunn, scenting a clue. 

"A week come Saturday, --or was it Friday?--the day he came in with ayoung man, a friend of his. And a night they made of it, I remember, "replied the landlady, recovering command of herself and of her speechunder the influence of Mr. Dunn's quiet courtesy. 

"Did you know the young man that was with him?"

"Yes, it was young Cameron. He had been coming about a good deal. "

"Oh, indeed! And have you seen Mr. Cameron since?"

"No; he never came except in company with Mr. Potts. "

And with this faint clue Mr. Dunn was forced to content himself, and tobegin a systematic search of Cameron's haunts in the various parts ofthe town. It was Martin, his little quarter-back, that finally put himon the right track. He had heard Cameron's pipes not more than an hourago at his lodgings in Morningside Road. 

"But what do you want of Cameron these days?" inquired the youngCanadian. "There's nothing on just now, is there, except this infernalgrind?"

Dunn hesitated. "Oh, I just want him. In fact, he has got into sometrouble. "

"There you are!" exclaimed Martin in disgust. "Why in thunder shouldyou waste time on him? You've taken enough trouble with him this winteralready. It's his own funeral, ain't it?"

Dunn looked at him a half moment in surprise. "Well, you can't go backon a fellow when he's down, can you?"

"Look here, Dunn, I've often thought I'd give you a little wise advice. This sounds bad, I know, but there's a lot of blamed rot going aroundthis old town just on this point. When a fellow gets on the bum and getsinto a hole he knows well that there'll be a lot of people tumbling overeach other to get him out, hence he deliberately and cheerfully slidesin. If he knew he'd have to scramble out himself he wouldn't be soblamed keen to get in. If he's in a hole let him frog it for awhile, byJingo! He's hitting the pace, let him take his bumps! He's got to take'em sooner or later, and better sooner than later, for the sooner hetakes 'em the quicker he'll learn. Bye-bye! I know you think I'm asemi-civilised Colonial. I ain't; I'm giving you some wisdom gained fromexperience. You can't swim by hanging on to a root, you bet!"

Dunn listened in silence, then replied slowly, "I say, old chap, there'ssomething in that. My governor said something like that some time ago:'A trainer's business is to train his men to do without him. '"

"There you are!" cried Martin. "That's philosophy! Mine's just horsesense. "

"Still, " said Dunn thoughtfully, "when a chap's in you've got to lenda hand; you simply can't stand and look on. " Dunn's words, tone, andmanner revealed the great, honest heart of human sympathy which hecarried in his big frame. 

"Oh, hang it, " cried Martin, "I suppose so! Guess I'll go along withyou. I can't forget you pulled me out, too. "

"Thanks, old chap, " cried Dunn, brightening up, "but you're busy, and--"

"Busy! By Jingo, you'd think so if you'd watch me over night and hear mybrain sizzle. But come along, I'm going to stay with you!"

But Dunn's business was private, and could be shared with no one. It wasdifficult to check his friend's newly-aroused ardour. "I say, old chap, "he said, "you really don't need to come along. I can do--"

"Oh, go to blazes! I know you too well! Don't you worry about me! You'vegot me going, and I'm in on this thing; so come along!"

Then Dunn grew firm. "Thanks, awfully, old man, " he said, "but it's athing I'd rather do alone, if you don't mind. "

"Oh!" said Martin. "All right! But say, if you need me I'm on. You're agreat old brick, though! Tra-la!"

As Martin had surmised, Dunn found Cameron in his rooms. He was lyingupon his bed enjoying the luxury of a cigarette. "Hello! Come rightin, old chap!" he cried, in gay welcome. "Have a--no, you won't have acigarette--have a pipe?"

Dunn gazed at him, conscious of a rising tide of mingled emotions, relief, wrath, pity, disgust. "Well, I'll be hanged!" at last he saidslowly. "But you've given us a chase! Where in the world have you been?"

"Been? Oh, here and there, enjoying my emancipation from the thralldomin which doubtless you are still sweating. "

"And what does that mean exactly?"

"Mean? It means that I've cut the thing, --notebooks, lectures, professors, exams, 'the hale hypothick, ' as our Nannie would say athome. "

"Oh rot, Cameron! You don't mean it?"

"Circumspice. Do you behold any suggestion of knotted towels and themidnight oil?"

Dunn gazed about the room. It was in a whirl of confusion. Pipes andpouches, a large box of cigarettes, a glass and a half-empty decanter, were upon the table; boots, caps, golf-clubs, coats, lay piled invarious corners. "Pardon the confusion, dear sir, " cried Cameroncheerfully, "and lay it not to the charge of my landlady. That estimablewoman was determined to make entry this afternoon, but was denied. "Cameron's manner one of gay and nervous bravado. 

"Come, Cameron, " said Dunn sadly, "what does this mean? You're notserious; you're not chucking your year?"

"Just that, dear fellow, and nothing less. Might as well as beploughed. "

"And what then are you going to do?" Dunn's voice was full of a greatpity. "What about your people? What about your father? And, by Jove, that reminds me, he's coming to town this evening. You know they've beentrying to find you everywhere this last day or two. "

"And who are 'they, ' pray?"

"Who? The police, " said Dunn bluntly, determined to shock his friendinto seriousness. 

Cameron sat up quickly. "The police? What do you mean, Dunn?"

"What it means I do not know, Cameron, I assure you. Don't you?"

"The police!" said Cameron again. "It's a joke, Dunn. "

"I wish to Heaven it were, Cameron, old man! But I have it straight fromMr. Rae, your family solicitor. They want you. "

"Old Rae?" exclaimed Cameron. "Now what the deuce does this all mean?"

"Don't you really know, old chap?" said Dunn kindly, anxiety and reliefstruggling in his face. 

"No more than you. What did the old chap say, anyway?"

"Something about a Bank; an irregularity, he called it, a seriousirregularity. He's had it staved off for a day. "

"The Bank? What in Heaven's name have I got to do with the Bank? Let'ssee; I was there a week or ten days ago with--" he paused. "Hang it, I can't remember!" He ran his hands through his long black locks, andbegan to pace the room. 

Dunn sat watching him, hope and fear, doubt and faith filling his heartin succession. 

Cameron sat down with his face in his hands. "What is it, old man? Can'tI help you?" said Dunn, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

"I can't remember, " muttered Cameron. "I've been going it some, youknow. I had been falling behind and getting money off Potts. Two weeksago I got my monthly five-pound cheque, and about ten days ago the usualfifty-pound cheque to square things up for the year, fees, etc. Seems tome I cashed those. Or did Potts? Anyway I paid Potts. The deuce take it, I can't remember! You know I can carry a lot of Scotch and never showit, but it plays the devil with my memory. " Cameron was growing more andmore excited. 

"Well, old chap, we must go right along to Mr. Rae's office. You don'tmind?"

"Mind? Not a bit. Old Rae has no love for me, --I get him into too muchtrouble, --but he's a straight old boy. Just wait till I brush up a bit. "He poured out from a decanter half a glass of whiskey. 

"I'd cut that out if I were you, " said Dunn. 

"Later, perhaps, " replied Cameron, "but not to-day. "

Within twenty minutes they were ushered into Mr. Rae's private office. That gentleman received them with a gravity that was portentous in itssolemnity. "Well, Sir, you have succeeded in your task, " he said to Mr. Dunn. "I wish to thank you for this service, a most valuable service tome, to this young gentleman, and to his family; though whether much maycome of it remains to be seen. "

"Oh, thanks, " said Dunn hurriedly. "I hope everything will be allright. " He rose to go. Cameron looked at him quickly. There was nomistaking the entreaty in his face. 

Mr. Rae spoke somewhat more hurriedly than his wont. "If it is notasking too much, and if you can still spare time, your presence might behelpful, Mr. Dunn. "

"Stay if you can, old chap, " said Cameron. "I don't know what this thingis, but I'll do better if you're in the game, too. " It was an appeal tohis captain, and after that nothing on earth could have driven Dunn fromhis side. 

At this point the door opened and the clerk announced, "Captain Cameron, Sir. "

Mr. Rae rose hastily. "Tell him, " he said quickly, "to wait--"

He was too late. The Captain had followed close upon the heels of theclerk, and came in with a rush. "Now, what does all this mean?"he cried, hardly waiting to shake hands with his solicitor. "Whatmischief--?"

"I beg your pardon, Captain, " said Mr. Rae calmly, "let me present Mr. Dunn, Captain Dunn, I might say, of International fame. " The solicitor'ssmile broke forth with its accustomed unexpectedness, but had vanishedlong before Mr. Dunn in his embarrassment had finished shaking handswith Captain Cameron. 

The Captain then turned to his son. "Well, Sir, and what is this affairof yours that calls me to town at a most inconvenient time?" His tonewas cold, fretful, and suspicious. 

Young Cameron's face, which had lighted up with a certain eagernessand appeal as he had turned toward his father, as if in expectation ofsympathy and help, froze at this greeting into sullen reserve. "I don'tknow any more than yourself, Sir, " he answered. "I have just come intothis office this minute. "

"Well, then, what is it, Mr. Rae?" The Captain's voice and manner weredistinctly imperious, if not overbearing. 

Mr. Rae, however, was king of his own castle. "Will you not be seated, Sir?" he said, pointing to a chair. "Sit down, young gentlemen. "

His quiet dignity, his perfect courtesy, recalled the Captain tohimself. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Rae, but I am really much disturbed. Can we begin at once?" He glanced as he spoke at Mr. Dunn, whoimmediately rose. 

"Sit down, Mr. Dunn, " said Mr. Rae quietly. "I have asked this younggentleman, " he continued, turning to the Captain, "to remain. He hasalready given me valuable assistance. I fancy he may be able to serve usstill further, if he will be so good. "

Mr. Dunn bowed in silence. 

"Now let us proceed with what must be an exceedingly painful matter forus all, and out of which nothing but extreme candour on the part of Mr. Allan here, and great wisdom on the part of us all, can possibly extractus. " Mr. Rae's glance rested upon the Captain, who bowed, and upon hisson, who made no sign whatever, but remained with his face set in thesame sullen gloom with which he had greeted his father. 

Mr. Rae opened a drawer and brought forth a slip of paper. "Mr. Allan, "he said, with a certain sharpness in his tone, "please look at this. "

Cameron came to the desk, picked up the paper, glanced at it. "It is myfather's cheque, " he said, "which I received about a week ago. "

"Look at the endorsement, please, " said Mr. Rae. 

Cameron turned it over. A slight flush came to his pale face. "It ismine to--" he hesitated, "Mr. Potts. "

"Mr. Potts cashed it then?"

"I suppose so. I believe so. I owed him money, and he gave me backsome. "

"How much did you owe him?"

"A considerable amount. I had been borrowing of him for some time. "

"As much as fifty pounds?"

"I cannot tell. I did not keep count, particularly; Potts did that. "

The Captain snorted contemptuously. "Do you mean to say--?" he began. 

"Pardon me, Captain Cameron. Allow me, " said Mr. Rae. 

"Now, Mr. Allan, do you think you owed him as much as the amount of thatcheque?"

"I do not know, but I think so. "

"Had you any other money?"

"No, " said Allan shortly; "at least I may have had a little remainingfrom the five pounds I had received from my father a few days before. "

"You are quite sure you had no other money?"

"Quite certain, " replied Allan. 

Again Mr. Rae opened his desk and drew forth a slip and handed it toyoung Cameron. "What is that?" he said. 

Cameron glanced at it hurriedly, and turned it over. "That is myfather's cheque for five pounds, which I cashed. "

Mr. Rae stretched out his hand and took the cheque. "Mr. Allan, " hesaid, "I want you to consider most carefully your answer. " He leanedacross the desk and for some moments--they seemed like minutes toDunn--his eyes searched young Cameron's face. "Mr. Allan, " he said, witha swift change of tone, his voice trembling slightly, "will you look atthe amount of that cheque again?"

Cameron once more took the cheque, glanced at it. "Good Lord!" he cried. "It is fifty!" His face showed blank amazement. 

Quick, low, and stern came Mr. Rae's voice. "Yes, " he said, "it is forfifty pounds. Do you know that that is a forgery, the punishment forwhich is penal servitude, and that the order for your arrest is alreadygiven?"

The Captain sprang to his feet. Young Cameron's face became ghastlypale. His hand clutched the top of Mr. Rae's desk. Twice or thrice hemoistened his lips preparing to speak, but uttered not a word. "GoodGod, my boy!" said the Captain hoarsely. "Don't stand like that. Tellhim you are innocent. "

"One moment, Sir, " said Mr. Rae to the Captain. "Permit me. " Mr. Rae'svoice, while perfectly courteous, was calmly authoritative. 

"Mr. Allan, " he continued, turning to the wretched young man, "whatmoney have you at present in your pockets?"

With shaking hands young Cameron emptied upon the desk the contents ofhis pocketbook, from which the lawyer counted out ten one-pound notes, a half-sovereign and some silver. "Where did you get this money, Mr. Allan?"

The young man, still silent, drew his handkerchief from his pocket, touched his lips, and wiped the sweat from his white face. 

"Mr. Allan, " continued the lawyer, dropping again into a kindly voice, "a frank explanation will help us all. "

"Mr. Rae, " said Cameron, his words coming with painful indistinctness, "I don't understand this. I can't think clearly. I can't remember. Thatmoney I got from Potts; at least I must have--I have had money from noone else. "

"My God!" cried the Captain again. "To think that a son of mineshould--!"

"Pardon me, Captain Cameron, " interrupted Mr. Rae quickly and somewhatsharply. "We must not prejudge this case. We must first understand it. "

At this point Dunn stepped swiftly to Cameron's side. "Brace up, oldchap, " he said in a low tone. Then turning towards the Captain he said, "I beg your pardon, Sir, but I do think it's only fair to give a man achance to explain. "

"Allow me, gentlemen, " said Mr. Rae in a firm, quiet voice, asthe Captain was about to break forth. "Allow me to conduct thisexamination. "

Cameron turned his face toward Dunn. "Thank you, old man, " he said, his white lips quivering. "I will do my best, but before God, I don'tunderstand this. "

"Now, Mr. Allan, " continued the lawyer, tapping the desk sharply, "here are two cheques for fifty pounds, both drawn by your father, bothendorsed by you, one apparently cashed by Mr. Potts, one by yourself. What do you know about this?"

"Mr. Rae, " replied the young man, his voice trembling and husky, "I tellyou I can't understand this. I ought to say that for the last two weeksI haven't been quite myself, and whiskey always makes me forget. I canwalk around steadily enough, but I don't always know what I am doing--"

"That's so, Sir, " said Dunn quickly, "I've seen him. "

"--And just what happened with these cheques I do not know. Thischeque, " picking up the one endorsed to Potts, "I remember giving toPotts. The only other cheque I remember is a five-pound one. "

"Do you remember cashing that five-pound cheque?" inquired Mr. Rae. 

"I carried it about for some days. I remember that, because I onceoffered it to Potts in part payment, and he said--" the white facesuddenly flushed a deep red. 

"Well, Mr. Allan, what did he say?"

"It doesn't matter, " said Cameron. 

"It may and it may not, " said Mr. Rae sharply. "It is your duty to tellus. "

"Out with it, " said his father angrily. "You surely owe it to me, to usall, to let us have every assistance. "

Cameron paid no attention to his father's words. "It has really nobearing, Sir, but I remember saying as I offered a five-pound cheque, 'Iwish it was fifty. '"

"And what reply did Mr. Potts make?" said Mr. Rae, with quietindifference, as if he had lost interest in this particular feature ofthe case. 

Again Cameron hesitated. 

"Come, out with it!" said his father impatiently. 

His son closed his lips as if in a firm resolve. "It really has nothingwhatever to do with the case. "

"Play the game, old man, " said Dunn quietly. 

"Oh, all right!" said Cameron. "It makes no difference anyway. He saidin a joke, 'You could easily make this fifty; it is such mighty poorwriting. '"

Still Mr. Rae showed no sign of interest. "He suggested in a joke, Iunderstand, that the five-pound cheque could easily be changed intofifty pounds. That was a mere pleasantry of Mr. Potts', doubtless. Howdid the suggestion strike you, Mr. Allan?"

Allan looked at him in silence. 

"I mean, did the suggestion strike you unpleasantly, or how?"

"I don't think it made any impression, Sir. I knew it was a joke. "

"A joke!" groaned his father. "Good Heavens! What do you think--?"

"Once more permit me, " said Mr. Rae quietly, with a wave of his handtoward the Captain. "This cheque of five pounds has evidently beenaltered to fifty pounds. The question is, by whom, Mr. Allan? Can youanswer that?" Again Mr. Rae's eyes were searching the young man's face. 

"I have told you I remember nothing about this cheque. "

"Is it possible, Mr. Allan, that you could have raised this chequeyourself without your knowing--?"

"Oh, nonsense!" said his father hotly, "why make the boy lie?"

His son started as if his father had struck him. "I tell you once more, Mr. Rae, and I tell you all, I know nothing about this cheque, and thatis my last word. " And from that position nothing could move him. 

"Well, " said Mr. Rae, closing the interview, "we have done our best. Thelaw must take its course. "

"Great Heavens!" cried the Captain, springing to his feet. "Do you meanto tell me, Allan, that you persist in this cursed folly and will giveus no further light? Have you no regard for my name, if not for yourown?" He grasped his son fiercely by the arm. 

But his son angrily shook off his grasp. "You, " he said, looking hisfather full in the face, "you condemned me before you heard a word fromme, and now for my name or for yours I care not a tinker's curse. " Andwith this he flung himself from the room. 

"Follow him, " said Mr. Rae to Dunn, quietly; "he will need you. And keephim in sight; it is important. "

"All right, Sir!" said Dunn. "I'll stay with him. " And he did. 

CHAPTER IV

A QUESTION OF HONOUR

Mr. Rae in forty years' experience had never been so seriouslydisturbed. To his intense humiliation he found himself abjectlyappealing to the senior member of the firm of Thomlinson & Shields. Notthat Mr. Thomlinson was obdurate; in the presence of mere obduracy Mr. Rae might have found relief in the conscious possession of more generousand humane instincts than those supposed to be characteristic of themembers of his profession. Mr. Thomlinson, however, was anything butobdurate. He was eager to oblige, but he was helpless. The instructionshe had received were simple but imperative, and he had gone to unusuallengths in suggesting to Mr. Sheratt, the manager of the Bank, a courseof greater leniency. That gentleman's only reply was a brief order toproceed with the case. 

With Mr. Sheratt, therefore, Mr. Rae proceeded to deal. His first movewas to invite the Bank manager to lunch, in order to discuss some ratherimportant matters relative to one of the great estates of which Mr. Raewas supposed to be the guardian. Some fifty years' experience ofMr. Sheratt as boy and man had let Mr. Rae into a somewhat intimateknowledge of the workings of that gentleman's mind. Under the mollifyinginfluences of the finest of old port, Mr. Rae made the discovery that aswith Mr. Thomlinson, so with Mr. Sheratt there was every disposition tooblige, and indeed an eagerness to yield to the lawyer's desires; it wasnot Mr. Sheratt, but the Bank that was immovable. Firm-fixed it stoodupon its bedrock of tradition that in matters of fraud, crime should bepunished to the full limit of the law. 

"The estate of the criminal, high or low, " said Mr. Sherattimpressively, "matters not. The Bank stands upon the principle, and fromthis it cannot be moved. " Mr. Sheratt began to wax eloquent. "Fidelityto its constituency, its shareholders, its depositors, indeed to thegeneral public, is the corner-stone of its policy. The Bank of Scotlandis a National Institution, with a certain National obligation. "

Mr. Rae quietly drew from his pocket a pamphlet, opened it slowly, and glanced at the page. "Ay, it's as I thought, Mr. Sheratt, " he saiddryly. "At times I wondered where Sir Archibald got his style. "

Mr. Sheratt blushed like a boy caught copying. 

"But now since I know who it is that writes the speech of the Chairmanof the Board of Directors, tell me, Sheratt, as man to man, is it you oris it Sir Archibald that's at the back of this prosecution? For if it isyou, I've something to say to you; if not, I'll just say it where it'smost needed. In some way or other I'm bound to see this thing through. That boy can't go to prison. Now tell me, Tom? It's for auld sake'ssake. "

"As sure as death, Rae, it's the Chairman, and it's God's truth I'mtelling ye, though I should not. " They were back again into the speechand spirit of their boyhood days. 

"Then I must see Sir Archibald. Give me time to see him, Tom. "

"It's a waste of time, I'm tellin' ye, but two days I'll give ye, Sandy, for auld sake's sake, as you say. A friendship of half a hundred yearsshould mean something to us. For your sake I'd let the lad go, Godknows, and there's my han' upon it, but as I said, that lies with SirArchibald. "

The old friends shook hands in silence. 

"Thank ye, Tom, thank ye, " said Mr. Rae; "I knew it. "

"But harken to me, ye'll no' move Sir Archibald, for on this particularpoint he's quite mad. He'd prosecute the Duke of Argyll, he would. Buttwo days are yours, Sandy. And mind with Sir Archibald ye treat his Bankwith reverence! It's a National Institution, with National obligations, ye ken?" Mr. Sheratt's wink conveyed a volume of meaning. "And mind you, Rae, " here Mr. Sheratt grew grave, "I am trusting you to produce thatlad when wanted. "

"I have him in safe keeping, Tom, and shall produce him, no fear. "

And with that the two old gentlemen parted, loyal to a lifelongfriendship, but loyal first to the trust of those they stood pledged toserve; for the friendship that gives first place to honour is the onlyfriendship that honourable men can hold. 

Mr. Rae set off for his office through the drizzling rain. "Now then, for the Captain, " he said to himself; "and a state he will be in! Whydid I ever summon him to town? Then for Mr. Dunn, who must keep his eyeupon the young man. "

In his office he found Captain Cameron in a state of distraction thatrendered him incapable of either coherent thought or speech. "What now, Rae? Where have you been? What news have you? My God, this thing isdriving me mad! Penal servitude! Think of it, man, for my son! Oh, thescandal of it! It will kill me and kill his sister. What's your report?Come, out with it! Have you seen Mr. Sheratt?" He was pacing up and downthe office like a beast in a cage. 

"Tut, tut, Captain Cameron, " said Mr. Rae lightly, "this is no way fora soldier to face the enemy. Sit down and we will just lay out ourcampaign. "

But the Captain's soldiering, which was of the lightest, had taught himlittle either of the spirit or of the tactics of warfare. "Campaign!" heexclaimed. "There's no campaign about it. It's a complete smash, horse, foot, and artillery. "

"Nonsense, Captain Cameron!" exclaimed Mr. Rae more briskly than hiswont, for the Captain irritated him. "We have still fighting to do, andhence we must plan our campaign. But first let us get comfortable. HereDavie, " he called, opening the office door, "here, mend this fire. It'sa winter's day this, " he continued to the Captain, "and goes to themarrow. "

Davie, a wizened, clean-shaven, dark-visaged little man, appeared with ascuttle of coal. "Ay, Davie; that's it! Is that cannel?"

"Ay, Sir, it is. What else? I aye get the cannel. "

"That's right, Davie. It's a gran' coal. "

"Gran' it's no', " said Davie shortly, who was a fierce radical inpolitics, and who strove to preserve his sense of independence of allsemblance of authority by cultivating a habit of disagreement. "Gran'it's no', " he repeated, "but it's the best the Farquhars hae, thoughthat's no' saying much. It's no' what I call cannel. "

"Well, well, Davie, it blazes finely at any rate, " said Mr. Rae, determined to be cheerful, and rubbing his hands before the blazingcoal. 

"Ay, it bleezes, " grumbled Davie, "when it's no' smootherin'. "

"Come then, Davie, that will do. Clear out, " said Mr. Rae to the oldservant, who was cleaning up the hearth with great diligence and care. 

But Davie was not to be hurried. He had his regular routine infire-mending, from which no power could move him. "Ay, Sir, " hemuttered, brushing away with his feather besom. "I'll clear oot when Iclear up. When a thing's no' dune richt it's no dune ava. "

"True, Davie, true enough; that's a noble sentiment. But will that no'do now?" Mr. Rae knew himself to be helpless in Davie's hands, and heknew also that nothing short of violence would hasten Davie from his"usual. "

"Ay, that'll dae, because it's richt dune. But that's no' what I callcannel, " grumbled Davie, glowering fiercely at the burning coal, as ifmeditating a fresh attack. 

"Well, well, " said Mr. Rae, "tell the Farquhars about it. "

"Ay, Sir, I will that, " said Davie, as he reluctantly took himself offwith his scuttle and besom. 

The Captain was bursting with fretful impatience. "Impudent old rascal!"he exclaimed. "Why don't you dismiss him?"

"Dismiss him!" echoed Mr. Rae in consternation. "Dismiss him!" herepeated, as if pondering an entirely new idea. "I doubt if Davie wouldconsider that. But now let us to work. " He set two arm-chairs before thefire, and placed a box of cigars by the Captain's elbow. "I have seenSheratt, " he began. "I'm quite clear it is not in his hands. "

"In whose then?" burst forth the Captain. 

Mr. Rae lit his cigar carefully. "The whole matter, I believe, lies nowwith the Chairman of the Board of Directors, Sir Archibald Brodie. "

"Brodie!" cried the Captain. "I know him. Pompous little fool!"

"Fool, Captain Cameron! Make no mistake. Sir Archibald may have--ah--theself-importance of a self-made man somewhat under the average height, but he is, without doubt, the best financier that stands at this momentin Scotland, and during the last fifteen years he has brought up theBank of Scotland to its present position. Fool! He's anything but that. But he has his weak spots--I wish I knew what they were!--and these wemust seek to find out. Do you know him well?"

"Oh, yes, quite well, " said the Captain; "that is, I've met him atvarious functions, where he always makes speeches. Very common, Icall him. I know his father; a mere cottar. I mean, " added the Captainhurriedly, for he remembered that Mr. Rae was of the same humbleorigin, "you know, he is thoroughly respectable and all that, but ofno--ah--social or family standing; that is--oh, you understand. "

"Quite, " said Mr. Rae drily. 

"Yes, I shall see him, " continued the Captain briskly. "I shallcertainly see him. It is a good suggestion. Sir Archibald knows myfamily; indeed, his father was from the Erracht region. I shall see himpersonally. I am glad you thought of that, Mr. Rae. These smaller men, Sheratt and the rest, I do not know--in fact, I do not seem to be ableto manage them, --but with Sir Archibald there will be no difficulty, Ifeel quite confident. When can you arrange the interview?"

Mr. Rae sat gazing thoughtfully into the fire, more and more convincedevery moment that he had made a false move in suggesting a meetingbetween the Captain and Sir Archibald Brodie. But labour as he might hecould not turn the Captain from his purpose. He was resolved to see SirArchibald at the earliest moment, and of the result of the meeting hehad no manner of doubt. 

"He knew my family, Sir, " insisted the Captain. "Sir Archibald willundoubtedly accede to my suggestion--ah--request to withdraw his action. Arrange it, Mr. Rae, arrange it at once. "

And ruefully enough Mr. Rae was compelled to yield against his betterjudgment. 

It was discovered upon inquiry that Sir Archibald had gone for a day ortwo to his country estate. "Ah, much better, " said the Captain, "awayfrom his office and away from the--ah--commercial surroundings of thecity. Much better, much better! We shall proceed to his country home. "

Of the wisdom of this proposal Mr. Rae was doubtful. There seemed, however, no other way open. Hence, the following morning found them ontheir way to Sir Archibald's country seat. Mr. Rae felt that it wasan unusual course to pursue, but the time was short, the occasion wasgravely critical, and demanded extreme measures. 

During their railway journey Mr. Rae strove to impress upon theCaptain's mind the need of diplomacy. "Sir Archibald is a man of strongprejudices, " he urged; "for instance, his Bank he regards with anaffection and respect amounting to veneration. He is a bachelor, youunderstand, and his Bank is to him wife and bairns. On no account mustyou treat his Bank lightly. "

"Oh, certainly not, " replied the Captain, who was inclined to resent Mr. Rae's attempts to school him in diplomacy. 

"He is a great financier, " continued Mr. Rae, "and with him finance is ahigh art, and financial integrity a sacred obligation. "

"Oh, certainly, certainly, " again replied the Captain, quite unimpressedby this aspect of the matter, for while he considered himself distinctlya man of affairs, yet his interests lay more in matters of great publicmoment. Commercial enterprises he regarded with a feeling akin tocontempt. Money was an extremely desirable, and indeed necessary, appendage to a gentleman's position, but how any man of fine feelingcould come to regard a financial institution with affection orveneration he was incapable of conceiving. However, he was preparedto deal considerately with Sir Archibald's peculiar prejudices in thismatter. 

Mr. Rae's forebodings as to the outcome of the approaching interviewwere of the most gloomy nature as they drove through the finelyappointed and beautifully kept grounds of Sir Archibald Brodie's estate. The interview began inauspiciously. Sir Archibald received them withstiff courtesy. He hated to be pursued to his country home with businessmatters. Besides, at this particular moment he was deeply engrossed inthe inspection of his pigs, for which animals he cherished what mightalmost be called an absorbing affection. Mr. Rae, who was proceedingwith diplomatic caution and skill to approach the matter in hand by wayof Sir Archibald's Wiltshires, was somewhat brusquely interrupted by theCaptain, who, in the firm conviction that he knew much better than didthe lawyer how to deal with a man of his own class, plunged at once intothe subject. 

"Awfully sorry to introduce business matters, Sir Archibald, to theattention of a gentleman in the privacy of his own home, but there is alittle matter in connection with the Bank in which I am somewhat deeplyinterested. "

Sir Archibald bowed in silence. 

"Rather, I should say, it concerns my son, and therefore, Sir Archibald, myself and my family. "

Again Sir Archibald bowed. 

"It is, after all, a trivial matter, which I have no doubt can be easilyarranged between us. The truth is, Sir Archibald--, " here the Captainhesitated, as if experiencing some difficulty in stating the case. 

"Perhaps Captain Cameron will allow me to place the matter before you, Sir Archibald, " suggested Mr. Rae, "as it has a legal aspect of somegravity, indeed of very considerable gravity. It is the case of youngMr. Cameron. "

"Ah, " said Sir Archibald shortly. "Forgery case, I believe. "

"Well, " said Mr. Rae, "we have not been able as yet to get at thebottom of it. I confess that the case has certainly very grave featuresconnected with it, but it is by no means clear that--"

"There is no need for further statement, Mr. Rae, " said Sir Archibald. "I know all about it. It is a clear case of forgery. The facts have allbeen laid before me, and I have given my instructions. "

"And what may these be, may I inquire?" said the Captain somewhathaughtily. 

"The usual instructions, Sir, where the Bank of Scotland is concerned, instructions to prosecute. " Sir Archibald's lips shut in a firm, thinline. As far as he was concerned the matter was closed. 

"But, Sir, " exclaimed the Captain, "this young man is my son. "

"I deeply regret it, " replied Sir Archibald. 

"Yes, Sir, he is my son, and the honour of my family is involved. "

Sir Archibald bowed. 

"I am here prepared to offer the fullest reparation, to offer the mostgenerous terms of settlement; in short, I am willing to do anything inreason to have this matter--this unfortunate matter--hushed up. "

"Hushed up!" exclaimed Sir Archibald. "Captain Cameron, it isimpossible. I am grieved for you, but I have a duty to the Bank in thismatter. "

"Do you mean to say, Sir, " cried the Captain, "that you refuse toconsider any arrangement or compromise or settlement of any kindwhatever? I am willing to pay the amount ten times over, rather thanhave my name dragged through legal proceedings. "

"It is quite impossible, " said Sir Archibald. 

"Come, come, Sir Archibald, " said the Captain, exercising an unusualself-control; "let us look at this thing as two gentlemen should whorespect each other, and who know what is due to our--ah--class. "

It was an unfortunate remark of the Captain's. 

"Our class, Sir? I presume you mean the class of gentlemen. All thatis due to our class or any other class is strict justice, and that you, Sir, or any other gentleman, shall receive to the very fullest in thismatter. The honour of the Bank, which I regard as a great NationalInstitution charged with National responsibilities, is involved, as isalso my own personal honour. I sincerely trust your son may be clearedof every charge of crime, but this case must be prosecuted to the veryfullest degree. "

"And do you mean to tell me, Sir Archibald, " exclaimed the Captain, nowin a furious passion, "that for the sake of a few paltry pounds you willblast my name and my family name in this country?--a name, I venture tosay, not unknown in the history of this nation. The Camerons, Sir, havefought and bled for King and country on many a battlefield. What mattersthe question of a few pounds in comparison with the honour of anancient and honourable name? You cannot persist in this attitude, SirArchibald!"

"Pounds, Sir!" cried Sir Archibald, now thoroughly aroused by thecontemptuous reference to what to him was dearer than anything in life. "Pounds, Sir! It is no question of pounds, but a question of the honourof a National Institution, a question of the lives and happiness ofhundreds of widows and orphans, a question of the honour of a name whichI hold as dear as you hold yours. "

Mr. Rae was in despair. He laid a restraining hand upon the Captain, andwith difficulty obtained permission to speak. "Sir Archibald, I craveyour indulgence while I put this matter to you as to a business man. Inthe first place, there is no evidence that fraud has been committedby young Mr. Cameron, absolutely none. --Pardon me a moment, SirArchibald. --The fraud has been committed, I grant, by someone, but bywhom is as yet unknown. The young man for some weeks has been in a stateof incapacity; a most blameworthy and indeed shameful condition, it istrue, but in a state of incapacity to transact business. He declaresthat he has no knowledge of this act of forgery. He will swear this. Iam prepared to defend him. "

"Very well, Sir, " interrupted Sir Archibald, "and I hope, I sincerelyhope, successfully. "

"But while it may be difficult to establish innocence, it will beequally difficult to establish guilt. Meantime, the young man's lifeis blighted, his name dishonoured, his family plunged into unspeakablegrief. I venture to say that it is a case in which the young man mightbe given, without injury to the Bank, or without breaking through itstraditional policy, the benefit of the doubt. "

But Sir Archibald had been too deeply stirred by Captain Cameron'sunfortunate remarks to calmly weigh Mr. Rae's presentation of the case. "It is quite useless, Mr. Rae, " he declared firmly. "The case is out ofmy hands, and must be proceeded with. I sincerely trust you may be ableto establish the young man's innocence. I have nothing more to say. "

And from this position neither Mr. Rae's arguments nor the Captain'spassionate pleadings could move him. 

Throughout the return journey the Captain raged and swore. "Acontemptible cad, Sir! a base-born, low-bred cad, Sir! What else couldyou expect from a fellow of his breeding? The insolence of these lowerorders is becoming insupportable. The idea! the very idea! His bankagainst my family name, my family honour! Preposterous!"

"Honour is honour, Captain Cameron, " replied Mr. Rae firmly, "andit might have been better if you had remembered that the honour of acottar's son is as dear to him as yours is to you. "

And such was Mr. Rae's manner that the Captain appeared to consider itwise to curb his rage, or at least suppress all reference to questionsof honour in as far as they might be related to the question of birthand breeding. 

CHAPTER V

A LADY AND THE LAW

Mr. Rae's first care was to see Mr. Dunn. This case was getting rathermore trying to Mr. Rae's nerves than he cared to acknowledge. For asecond time he had been humiliated, and humiliation was an experience towhich Mr. Rae was not accustomed. It was in a distinctly wrathful frameof mind that he called upon Mr. Dunn, and the first quarter of an hourof his interview he spent in dilating upon his own folly in havingallowed Captain Cameron to accompany him on his visit to Sir Archibald. 

"In forty years I never remember having made such an error, Sir. Thiswas an occasion for diplomacy. We should have taken time. We should havediscovered his weak spots; every man has them. Now it is too late. The only thing left for us is fight, and the best we can hope for is averdict of NOT PROVEN, and that leaves a stigma. "

"It is terrible, " said Mr. Dunn, "and I believe he is innocent. Have youthought of Potts, Sir?"

"I have had Potts before me, " said Mr. Rae, "and I may safely say thatthough he strikes me as being a man of unusual cleverness, we can donothing with Mr. Potts. Of course, " added Mr. Rae hastily, "this is notto say we shall not make use of Mr. Potts in the trial, but Mr. Pottscan show from his books debts amounting to nearly sixty pounds. Hefrankly acknowledges the pleasantry in suggesting the raising of thefive-pound cheque to fifty pounds, but of the act itself he professesentire ignorance. I frankly own to you, Sir, " continued Mr. Rae, foldinghis ear into a horn after his manner when in perplexity, "that this casepuzzles me. I must not take your time, " he said, shaking Mr. Dunn warmlyby the hand. "One thing more I must ask you, however, and that is, keepin touch with young Cameron. I have pledged my honour to produce himwhen wanted. Furthermore, keep him--ah--in good condition; cheer him up;nerve him up; much depends upon his manner. "

Gravely Mr. Dunn accepted the trust, though whether he could fulfil ithe doubted. "Keep him cheerful, " said Mr. Dunn to himself, as the doorclosed upon Mr. Rae. "Nice easy job, too, under the circumstances. Let's see, what is there on? By Jove, if I could only bring him!" Thereflashed into Mr. Dunn's mind the fact that he was due that evening at aparty for students, given by one of the professors, belated beyond theperiod proper to such functions by one of those domestic felicitieswhich claim right of way over all other human events. At this partyCameron was also due. It was hardly likely, however, that he wouldattend. But to Dunn's amazement he found Cameron, with a desperatejollity such as a man might feel the night before his execution, eagerto go. 

"I'm going, " he cried, in answer to Dunn's somewhat timid suggestion. "They'll all be there, old man, and I shall make my exit with mucheclat, with pipe and dance and all the rest of it. "

"Exit, be blowed!" said Dunn impatiently. "Let's cut all this nonsenseout. We're going into a fight for all there's in us. Why should a fellowthrow up the sponge after the first round?"

"Fight!" said Cameron gloomily. "Did old Rae say so?"

"Most decidedly. "

"And what defence does he suggest?"

"Defence? Innocence, of course. "

"Would to God I could back him up!" groaned Cameron. 

Dunn gazed at him in dismay. "And can you not? You do not mean to tellme you are guilty?"

"Oh, I wish to heaven I knew!" cried Cameron wildly. "But there, let itgo. Let the lawyers and the judge puzzle it out. 'Guilty or not guilty?''Hanged if I know, my lord. Looks like guilty, but don't see very wellhow I can be. ' That will bother old Rae some; it would bother Old Nickhimself. 'Did you forge this note?' 'My lord, my present ego recognizesno intent to forge; my alter ego in vino may have done so. Of that, however, I know nothing; it lies in that mysterious region of thesubconscious. ' 'Are you, then, guilty?' 'Guilt, my lord, lies in intent. Intent is the soul of crime. ' It will be an interesting point for Mr. Rae and his lordship. "

"Look here, old chap, " asked Dunn suddenly, "what of Potts in thisbusiness?"

"Potts! Oh, hang it, Dunn, I can't drag Potts into this. It wouldbe altogether too low-down to throw suspicion upon a man without theslightest ground. Potts is not exactly a lofty-souled creature. In fact, he is pronouncedly a bounder, though I confess I did borrow money ofhim; but I'd borrow money of the devil when I'm in certain moods. A manmay be a bounder, however, without being a criminal. No, I have thoughtthis thing out as far as I can, and I've made my mind up that I've gotto face it myself. I've been a fool, ah, such a fool!" A shudder shookhis frame. "Oh, Dunn, old man, I don't mind for myself, I can go outeasily enough, but it's my little sister! It will break her heart, andshe has no one else; she will have to bear it all alone. "

"What do you mean, Cameron?" asked Dunn sharply. 

Cameron sprang to his feet. "Let it go, " he cried. "Let it go forto-night, anyway. " He seized a decanter which stood all too ready to hishand, but Dunn interposed. 

"Listen to me, old man, " he said, in a voice of grave and earnestsadness, while he pushed Cameron back into a chair. "We have adesperately hard game before us, you and I, --this is my game, too, --andwe must be fit; so, Cameron, I want your word that you will play up forall that's in you; that you will cut this thing out, " pointing to thedecanter, "and will keep fit to the last fighting minute. I am askingyou this, Cameron. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to me, you owe itto your sister. "

For some moments Cameron sat gazing straight before him, his faceshowing the agony in his soul. "As God's above, I do! I owe it to you, Dunn, and to her, and to the memory of my--" But his quivering lipscould not utter the word; and there was no need, for they both knew thathis heart was far away in the little mound that lay in the shadow of thechurch tower in the Cuagh Oir. The lad rose to his feet, and stretchingout his hand to Dunn cried, "There's my hand and my honour as aHighlander, and until the last fighting moment I'll be fit. "

At the party that night none was gayer than young Cameron. The shyreserve that usually marked him was thrust aside. His fine, lithefigure, set off by his Highland costume, drew all eyes in admiration, and whether in the proud march of the piper, or in the wild abandon ofthe Highland Fling, he seemed to all the very beau ideal of a gallantHighland gentleman. 

Dunn stood in the circle gathered to admire, watching Cameron'sperformance of that graceful and intricate Highland dance, allunconscious of a pair of bright blue eyes fastened on his face thatreflected so manifestly the grief and pain in his heart. 

"And wherefore this gloom?" said a gay voice at his side. It was MissBessie Brodie. 

Poor Dunn! He was not skilled in the fine art of social deception. Hecould only gaze stupidly and with blinking eyes upon his questioner, devoutly hoping meanwhile that the tears would not fall. 

"Splendid Highlander, isn't he?" exclaimed Miss Bessie, hastilywithdrawing her eyes from his face, for she was much too fine a lady tolet him see her surprise. 

"What?" exclaimed Dunn. "I don't know. I mean--yes, awfully--oh, confound the thing, it's a beastly shame!"

Thereupon Miss Bessie turned her big blue eyes slowly upon him. "Meaningwhat?" she said quietly. 

"Oh, I beg pardon. I'm just a fool. Oh, hang it all!" Dunn could notrecover his composure. He backed out of the circle of admirers into adarker corner. 

"Fool?" said Miss Brodie, stepping back with him. "And why, pray? CanI know? I suppose it's Cameron again, " she continued. "Oh, I know allabout you and your mothering of him. "

"Mothering!" said Dunn bitterly. "That is just what he needs, by Jove. His mother has been dead these five years, and that's been the ruin ofhim. "

The cheers from Cameron's admirers broke in upon Dunn's speech. "Oh, it's too ghastly, " he muttered. 

"Is it really so bad? Can't I help?" cried Miss Brodie. "You know I'vehad some experience with boys. "

As Dunn looked into her honest, kindly eyes he hesitated. Should he tellher? He was in sore need of counsel, and besides he was at the limitof his self-control. "I say, " he said, staring at her, while his lipsquivered, "I'd like awfully to tell you, but I know if I ever begin Ishall just burst into tears before this gaping crowd. "

"Tears!" exclaimed Miss Bessie. "Not you! And if you did it wouldn'thurt either them or you. An International captain possesses thisadvantage over other mortals: that he may burst into tears or anythingelse without losing caste, whereas if I should do any such thing--Butcome, let's get somewhere and talk it over. Now, then, " said Miss Brodieas they found a quiet corner, "first of all, ought I to know?"

"You'll know, all Edinburgh will know time day after to-morrow, " saidDunn. 

"All right, then, it can't do any harm for me to know to-night. Itpossibly may do good. "

"It will do me good, anyway, " said Dunn, "for I have reached my limit. "

Then Dunn told her, and while she listened she grew grave and anxious. "But surely it can be arranged!" she exclaimed, after he had finished. 

"No, Mr. Rae has tried everything. The Bank is bound to pursue it to thebitter end. It is apparently a part of its policy. "

"What Bank?"

"The Bank of Scotland. "

"Why, that's my uncle's Bank! I mean, he is the Chairman of the Boardof Directors, and the Bank is the apple of his eye; or one of them, Imean--I'm the other. "

"Oh, both, I fancy, " said Dunn, rather pleased with his own courage. 

"But come, this is serious, " said Miss Brodie. "The Bank, you know, oryou don't know, is my uncle's weak spot. "

Mr. Rae's words flashed across Dunn's mind: "We ought to have found hisweak spots. "

"He says, " continued Miss Brodie with a smile--"you know he's an olddear!--I divide his heart with the Bank, that I have the left lobe. Isn't that the bigger one? So the Bank and I are his weak spots; unlessit is his Wiltshires--he is devoted to Wiltshires. "

"Wiltshires?"

"Pigs. There are times when I feel myself distinctly second to them. Areyou sure my uncle knows all about Cameron?"

"Well, Mr. Rae and Captain Cameron--that's young Cameron's father--wentout to his place--"

"Ah, that was a mistake, " said Miss Brodie. "He hates people followinghim to the country. Well, what happened?"

"Mr. Rae feels that it was rather a mistake that Captain Cameron wentalong. "

"Why so? He is his father, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is, though I'm bound to say he's rather queer for a father. "Whereupon Dunn gave her an account of his interview in Mr. Rae's office. 

Miss Brodie was indignant. "What a shame! And what a fool! Why, he isten times more fool than his son; for mark you, his son is undoubtedlya fool, and a selfish fool at that. I can't bear a young fool whosacrifices not simply his own life, but the interests of all who carefor him, for some little pet selfishness of his own. But this fatherof his seems to be even worse than the son. Family name indeed! And Iventure to say he expatiated upon the glory of his family name to myuncle. If there's one thing that my uncle goes quite mad about it isthis affectation of superiority on the ground of the colour of a man'sblood! No wonder he refused to withdraw the prosecution! What could Mr. Rae have been thinking about? What fools men are!"

"Quite true, " murmured Mr. Dunn. 

"Some men, I mean, " cried Miss Brodie hastily. "I wish to heaven I hadseen my uncle first!"

"I suppose it's too late now, " said Dunn, with a kind of gloomywistfulness. 

"Yes, I fear so, " said Miss Brodie. "You see when my uncle makes up hismind he appears to have some religious scruples against changing it. "

"It was a ghastly mistake, " said Dunn bitterly. 

"Look here, Mr. Dunn, " said Miss Brodie, turning upon him suddenly, "Iwant your straight opinion. Do you think this young man guilty?"

They were both looking at Cameron, at that moment the centre of a groupof open admirers, his boyish face all aglow with animation. For thetime being it seemed as if he had forgotten the terrible catastropheoverhanging him. 

"If I hadn't known Cameron for three years, " replied Dunn slowly, "Iwould say offhand that this thing would be impossible to him; but yousee you never know what a man in drink will do. Cameron can carry abottle of Scotch without a stagger, but of course it knocks his headall to pieces. I mean, he is quite incapable of anything like clearthought. "

"It is truly terrible, " said Miss Brodie. "I wish I had known yesterday, but those men have spoilt it all. But here's 'Lily' Laughton, " shecontinued hurriedly, "coming for his dance. " As she spoke a youth ofwillowy figure, languishing dark eyes and ladylike manner drew near. 

"Well, here you are at last! What a hunt I have had! I am quiteexhausted, I assure you, " cried the youth, fanning himself with hishandkerchief. "And though you have quite forgotten it, this is ourdance. What can you two have been talking about? But why ask? There isonly one theme upon which you could become so terrifically serious. "

"And what is that, pray? Browning?" inquired Miss Brodie sweetly. 

"Dear Miss Brodie, if you only would, but--ugh!--" here "Lily"shuddered, "I can in fancy picture the gory scene in which you have beenrevelling for the last hour!" And "Lily's" handsome face and languid, liquid eyes indicated his horror. It was "Lily's" constant declarationthat he "positively loathed" football, although his persistentattendance at all the great matches rather belied this declaration. "Itis the one thing in you, Miss Bessie, that I deplore, 'the fly in thepot--' no, 'the flaw--' ah, that's better--'the flaw in the matchlesspearl. '"

"How sweet of you, " murmured Miss Brodie. 

"Yes, indeed, " continued "Lily, " wreathing his tapering fingers, "it isyour devotion to those so-called athletic games, --games! ye gods!--thechief qualifications for excellence in which appear to be brute strengthand a blood-thirsty disposition; as witness Dunn there. I was positivelyhorrified last International. There he was, our own quiet, domestic, gentle Dunn, raging through that howling mob of savages like abloody Bengal tiger. --Rather apt, that!--A truly awful and degradingexhibition!"

"Ah, perfectly lovely!" murmured Miss Brodie ecstatically. "I can seehim yet. "

"Miss Brodie, how can you!" exclaimed "Lily, " casting up his eyes inhorror towards heaven. "But it was ever thus! In ancient days uponthe bloody sands of the arena, fair ladies were wont to gaze withunrelenting eyes and thumbs turned down--or up, was it--?"

"Excellent! But how clever of them to gaze with their thumbs in thatway!"

"Please don't interrupt, " said "Lily" severely; "I have just 'struck mygait, ' as that barbaric young Colonial, Martin, another of your bloody, brawny band, would say. And here you sit, unblushing, glorying in theirdisgusting deeds and making love open and unabashed to their captain!"

"Go away, 'Lily' or I'll hurt you, " cried Dunn, his face a brilliantcrimson. "Come, get out!"

"But don't be uplifted, " continued "Lily, " ignoring him, "you are notthe first. By no means! It is always the last International captain, andhas been to my certain knowledge for the last ten years. "

"Ten years!" exclaimed Miss Brodie in horrified accents. "You monster!If you have no regard for my character you might at least respect myage. "

"Age! Dear Miss Brodie, " ejaculated "Lily, " "who could ever associateage with your perennial youth?"

"Perennial! Wretch! If there is anything I am sensitive about, reallysensitive about, it is my age! Mr. Dunn, I beseech you, save me fromfurther insult! Dear 'Lily, ' run away now. You are much too tired todance, and besides there is Mrs. Craig-Urquhart waiting to talk yourbeloved Wagner-Tennyson theory; or what is the exact combination?Mendelssohn-Browning, is it?"

"Oh, Miss Bessie!" cried "Lily" in a shocked voice, "how canyou? Mendelssohn-Browning! How awful! Do have some regard for theaffinities. "

"Mr. Dunn, I implore you, save me! I can bear no more. There! A mercifulprovidence has accomplished my deliverance. They are going. Good-night, 'Lily. ' Run away now. I want a word with Mr. Dunn. "

"Oh, heartless cruelty!" exclaimed "Lily, " in an agonised voice. "Butwhat can you expect from such associations?" And he hastened away tohave a last word with Mrs. Craig-Urquhart, who was swimming languidlyby. 

Miss Brodie turned eagerly to Dunn. "I'd like to help you awfully, " shesaid; "indeed I must try. I have very little hope. My uncle is so strongwhen he is once set, and he is so funny about that Bank. But a boy isworth more than a Bank, if he IS a fool; besides, there is his sister. Good-night. Thanks for letting me help. I have little hope, butto-morrow I shall see Sir Archibald, and--and his pigs. "

It was still in the early forenoon of the following day when MissBrodie greeted her uncle as he was about to start upon his round of thepastures and pens where the Wiltshires of various ages and sizes andsexes were kept. With the utmost enthusiasm Miss Brodie entered into hisadmiration of them all, from the lordly prize tusker to the great motherlying broadside on in grunting and supreme content, every grunt eloquentof happiness and maternal love and pride, to allow her week-old brood toprod and punch her luxuriant dugs for their breakfast. 

By the time they had made their rounds Sir Archibald had arrived at hismost comfortable and complacent mood. He loved his niece. He loved herfor the sake of his dead brother, and as she grew in years, he came tolove her for herself. Her sturdy independent fearlessness, hersound sense, her honest heart, and chiefly, if it must be told, herwhole-souled devotion to himself, made for her a great space in hisheart. And besides all this, they were both interested to the point ofdevotion in pigs. As he watched his niece handling the little sucklingswith tender care, and listened to her appraising their varying meritswith a discriminating judgment, his heart filled up with pride in hermany accomplishments and capabilities. 

"Isn't she happy, Uncle?" she exclaimed, lifting her brown, sunny faceto him. 

"Ay, lassie, " replied Sir Archibald, lapsing into the kindly "braidScots, " "I ken fine how she feels. "

"She's just perfectly happy, " said his niece, "and awfully useful andgood. She is just like you, Uncle. "

"What? Oh, thank you, I'm extremely flattered, I assure you. "

"Uncle, you know what I mean! Useful and good. Here you are in thislovely home--how lovely it is on a warm, shiny day like this!--safe fromcares and worries, where people can't get at you, and making--"

"Ah, I don't know about that, " replied her uncle, shaking his head witha frown. "Some people have neither sense nor manners. Only yesterdayI was pestered by a fellow who annoyed me, seriously annoyed me, interfering in affairs which he knew nothing of, --actually the affairsof the Bank!--prating about his family name, and all the rest of it. Family name!" Here, it must be confessed, Sir Archibald distinctlysnorted, quite in a manner calculated to excite the envy of any of hisWiltshires. 

"I know, Uncle. He is a fool, a conceited fool, and a selfish fool. "

"You know him?" inquired her uncle in a tone of surprise. 

"No, I have no personal acquaintance with him, I'm glad to say, but Iknow about him, and I know that he came with Mr. Rae, the Writer. "

"Ah, yes! Thoroughly respectable man, Mr. Rae. "

"Yes, Mr. Rae is all right; but Captain Cameron--oh, I can't bear him!He came to talk to you about his son, and I venture to say he took mostof the time in talking about himself. "

"Exactly so! But how--?"

"And, Uncle, I want to talk to you about that matter, about youngCameron. " For just a moment Miss Brodie's courage faltered as sheobserved her uncle's figure stiffen. "I want you to know the rights ofthe case. "

"Now, now, my dear, don't you go--ah--"

"I know, Uncle, you were going to say 'interfering, ' only you rememberin time that your niece never interferes. Isn't that true, Sir?"

"Yes, yes! I suppose so; that is, certainly. "

"Now I am interested in this young Cameron, and I want you to get theright view of his case, which neither your lawyer nor your manager northat fool father of his can give you. I know that if you see this caseas I see it you will do--ah--exactly what is right; you always do. "

Miss Brodie's voice had assumed its most reasonable and business-liketone. Sir Archibald was impressed, and annoyed because he was impressed. 

"Look here, Bessie, " he said, in as impatient a tone as he ever adoptedwith his niece, "you know how I hate being pestered with businessaffairs out here. "

"I know quite well, Uncle, and I regret it awfully, but I know, too, that you are a man of honour, and that you stand for fair play. But thatyoung man is to be arrested to-day, and you know what that will mean fora young fellow with his way to make. "

Her appeal was not without its effect. Sir Archibald set himself to giveher serious attention. "Let us have it, then, " he said briefly. "Whatdo you know of the young man?"

"This first of all: that he has a selfish, conceited prig for a father. "

With which beginning Sir Archibald most heartily agreed. "But how do youknow?"

"Now, let me tell you about him. " And Miss Brodie proceeded to describethe scene between father and son in Mr. Rae's office, with vigorous andilluminating comments. "And just think, the man in the company who wasfirst to condemn the young chap was his own father. Would you do that?You'd stand for him against the whole world, even if he were wrong. "

"Steady, steady, lass!"

"You would, " repeated Miss Bessie, with indignant emphasis. "Would youchuck me over if I were disgraced and all the world hounding me? Wouldyou?"

"No, by God!" said Sir Archibald in a sudden tempest of emotion, andMiss Bessie smiled lovingly upon him. 

"Well, that's the kind of a father he has. Now about the young fellowhimself: He's just a first-class fool, like most young fellows. You knowhow they are, Uncle. "

Sir Archibald held up his hand. "Don't make any such assumptions. "

"Oh, I know you, and when you were a boy you were just as gay andfoolish as the rest of them. "

Her arch, accusing smile suddenly cast a rich glow of warm colourover the long, grey road of Sir Archibald's youth of self-denialand struggle. The mild indulgences of his early years, under thetransforming influence of that same arch and accusing smile, took on forSir Archibald such an aspect of wild and hilarious gaiety as to impart atone of hesitation to his voice while he deprecated his niece's charge. 

"What, I? Nonsense! What do you know about it? Well, well, we have allhad our day, I suppose!"

"Aha! I know you, and I should love to have known you when you wereyoung Cameron's age. Though I'm quite sure you were never such a fool ashe. You always knew how to take care of yourself. "

Her uncle shook his head as if to indicate that the less said aboutthose gay young days the better. 

"Now what do you think this young fool does? Gets drinking, and gets somuddled up in all his money matters--he's a Highlander, you know, andDunn, Mr. Dunn says--"

"Dunn!"

"Yes, Mr. Dunn, the great International captain, you know! Mr. Dunn sayshe can take a whole bottle of Scotch--"

"What, Dunn?"

"No, no; you know perfectly well, Uncle! This young Cameron can takea whole bottle of Scotch and walk a crack, but his head gets awfullymuddled. "

"Shouldn't be surprised!"

"And Mr. Dunn had a terrible time keeping him fit for the International. You know he was Dunn's half-back. Yes, " cried his niece with enthusiasm, suddenly remembering a tradition that in his youth Sir Archibald hadbeen a famous quarter, his one indulgence, "a glorious half-back, too!You must remember in the match with England last fall the brilliant workof the half-back. Everybody went mad about him. That was young Cameron!"

"You don't tell me! The left-half in the English International lastfall?"

"Yes, indeed! Oh, he's wonderful! But he has to be watched, you know, and the young fool lost us the last--" Miss Bessie abruptly checkedherself. "But never mind! Well, after the season, you know, he got goingloose, and this is the result. Owed money everywhere, and with the trueHighland incapacity for business, and the true Highland capacity fortrusting people--"

"Huh!" grunted Sir Archibald in disapproval. 

"--When his head is in a muddled condition he does something or other toa cheque--or doesn't do it, nobody knows--and there he is in this awfulfix. Personally, I don't believe he is guilty of the crime. "

"And why, pray?"

"Why? Well, Mr. Dunn, his captain, who has known him for years, says itis quite impossible; and then the young man himself doesn't deny it. "

"What? Does NOT deny it?"

"Exactly! Like a perfectly straightforward gentleman, --and I think it'sawfully fine of him, --though he has a perfectly good chance to put thething on a--a fellow Potts, quite a doubtful character, he simply says, 'I know nothing about it. That looks like my signature. I can't rememberdoing this, don't know how I could have, but don't know a thing aboutit. ' There you are, Uncle! And Mr. Dunn says he is quite incapable ofit. "

"Mr. Dunn, eh? It seems you build somewhat broadly upon Mr. Dunn. "

The brown on Miss Bessie's check deepened slightly. "Well, Mr. Dunn is asplendid judge of men. "

"Ah; and of young ladies, also, I imagine, " said Sir Archibald, pinchingher cheek. 

It may have been the pinch, but the flush on her cheek grew distinctlybrighter. "Don't be ridiculous, Uncle! He's just a boy, a perfectlysplendid boy, and glorious in his game, but a mere boy, and--well, youknow, I've arrived at the age of discretion. "

"Quite true!" mused her uncle. "Thirty last birthday, was it? How timedoes--!"

"Oh, you perfectly horrid uncle! Thirty indeed! Are you not ashamed toadd to the already intolerable burden of my years? Thirty! No, Sir, notby five good years at least! There now, you've made me tell my age! Youought to blush for shame. "

Her uncle patted her firm, round cheek. "Never a blush, my dear! Youbear even your advanced age with quite sufficient ease and grace. Butnow about this young Cameron, " he continued, assuming a sternly judicialtone. 

"All I ask for him is a chance, " said his niece earnestly. 

"A chance? Why he will get every chance the law allows to clearhimself. "

"There you are!" exclaimed Miss Bessie, in a despairing tone. "That'sthe way the lawyers and your manager talk. They coolly and without aqualm get him arrested, this young boy who has never in all his lifeshown any sign of criminal tendency. These horrid lawyers display theirdreadful astuteness and ability in catching a lad who never tries to runaway, and your manager pleads the rules of the Bank. The rules! Fancyrules against a young boy's whole life!"

Her uncle rather winced at this. 

"And like a lot of sheep they follow each other in a circle; there isabsolutely no independence, no initiative. Why, they even went so far asto suggest that you could do nothing, that you were bound by rules andmust follow like the rest of them; but I told them I knew better. "

"Ah!" said Sir Archibald in his most dignified manner. "I trust I have amind of my own, but--"

"Exactly! So I said to Mr. Dunn. 'Rules or no rules, ' I said, 'myuncle will do the fair thing. ' And I know you will, " cried Miss Brodietriumphantly. "And if you look at it, there's a very big chance that theboy never did the thing, and certainly if he did it at all it was whenhe was quite incapable. Oh, I know quite well what the lawyers say. Theygo by the law, --they've got to, --but you--and--and--I go by the--thereal facts of the case. " Sir Archibald coughed gently. "I mean tosay--well you know, Uncle, quite well, you can tell what a man isby--well, by his game. "

"His game!"

"And by his eye. "

"His eye! And his eye is--?"

"Now, Uncle, be sensible! I mean to say, if you could only see him. Oh, I shall bring him to see you!" she cried, with a sudden inspiration. 

Sir Archibald held up a deprecating hand. "Do not, I beg. "

"Well, Uncle, you can trust my judgment, you know you can. You wouldtrust me in--in--" For a moment Miss Brodie was at a loss; then her eyesfell upon the grunting, comfortable old mother pig with her industriouslitter. "Well, don't I know good Wiltshires when I see them?"

"Quite true, " replied her uncle solemnly; "and therefore, men. "

"Uncle, you're very nearly rude. "

"I apologise, " replied her uncle hastily. "But now, Bessie, my deargirl, seriously, as to this case, you must understand that I cannotinterfere. The Bank--hem--the Bank is a great National--"

Miss Bessie saw that the Guards were being called upon. She hastened tobring up her reserves. "I know, Uncle, I know! I wouldn't for the worldsay a word against the Bank, but you see the case against the lad is atleast doubtful. "

"I was going on to observe, " resumed her uncle, judicially, "that theBank--"

"Don't misunderstand me, Uncle, " cried his niece, realising that she hadreached a moment of crisis. "You know I would not for a momentpresume to interfere with the Bank, but"--here she deployed her wholeforce, --"the lad's youth and folly; his previous good character, guaranteed by Dunn, who knows men; his glorious game--no man who wasn'tstraight could play such a game!--the large chance of his innocence, thesmall chance of his guilt; the hide-bound rigidity of lawyers and bankmanagers, dominated by mere rules and routine, in contrast with theopen-minded independence of her uncle; the boy's utter helplessness; hisown father having been ready to believe the worst, --just think of it, Uncle, his own father thinking of himself and of his family name--muchhe has ever done for his family name!--and not of his own boy, and"--here Miss Brodie's voice took a lower key--"and his mother diedsome five or six years ago, when he was thirteen or fourteen, and Iknow, you know, that is hard on a boy. " In spite of herself, and to herdisgust, a tremor came into her voice and a rush of tears to her eyes. 

Her uncle was smitten with dismay. Only on one terrible occasion sinceshe had emerged from her teens had he seen his niece in tears. Thememory of that terrible day swept over his soul. Something desperatewas doing. Hard as the little man was to the world against which he hadfought his way to his present position of distinction, to his niecehe was soft-hearted as a mother. "There, there!" he exclaimed hastily. "We'll give the boy a chance. No mother, eh? And a confounded prig for afather! No wonder the boy goes all wrong!" Then with a sudden vehemencehe cried, striking one hand into the other, "No, by--! that is, wewill certainly give the lad the benefit of the doubt. Cheer up, lassie!You've no need to look ashamed, " for his niece was wiping her eyesin manifest disgust; "indeed, " he said, with a heavy attempt atplayfulness, "you are a most excellent diplomat. "

"Diplomat, Uncle!" cried the girl, vehement indignation in her voice andface. "Diplomat!" she cried again. "You don't mean that I've not beenquite sincere?"

"No, no, no; not in the least, my dear! But that you have put your casewith admirable force. "

"Oh, " said the girl with a breath of relief, "I just put it as I feelit. And it is not a bit my putting it, Uncle, but it is just thatyou are a dear and--well, a real sport; you love fair play. " The girlsuddenly threw her strong, young arms about her uncle's neck, drew himclose to her, and kissed him almost as if she had been his mother. 

The little man was deeply touched, but with true Scotch horror of ademonstration he cried, "Tut, tut, lassie, ye're makin' an auld fule o'your uncle. Come now, be sensible!"

"Sensible!" echoed his niece, kissing him again. "That's my livingdescription among all my acquaintance. It is their gentle way ofreminding me that the ordinary feminine graces of sweetness and generalloveliness are denied me. "

"And more fools they!" grunted her uncle. "You're worth the halecaboodle o' them. "

That same evening there were others who shared this opinion, and nonemore enthusiastically than did Mr. Dunn, whom Miss Brodie chanced tomeet just as she turned out of the Waverly Station. 

"Oh, Mr. Dunn, " she cried, "how very fortunate!" Her face glowed withexcitement. 

"For me; yes, indeed!" said Mr. Dunn, warmly greeting her. 

"For me, for young Cameron, for us all, " said Miss Brodie. "Oh, Rob, isthat you?" she continued, as her eye fell upon the youngster standingwith cap off waiting her recognition. "Look at this!" she flashed aletter before Dunn's face. "What do you think of that?"

Dunn took the letter. "It's to Sheratt, " he said, with a puzzled air. 

"Yes, " cried Miss Brodie, mimicking his tone, "it's to Sheratt, from SirArchibald, and it means that Cameron is safe. The police will never--"

"The police, " cried Dunn, hastily, getting between young Rob and her andglancing at his brother, who stood looking from one to the other with astartled face. 

"How stupid! The police are a truly wonderful body of men, " she went onwith enthusiasm. "They look so splendid. I saw some of them as I camealong. But never mind them now. About this letter. What's to do?"

Dunn glanced at his watch. "We need every minute. " He stood a moment ortwo thinking deeply while Miss Brodie chatted eagerly with Rob, whoseface retained its startled and anxious look. "First to Mr. Rae's office. Come!" cried Mr. Dunn. 

"But this letter ought to go. "

"Yes, but first Mr. Rae's office. " Mr. Dunn had assumed command. Hiswords shot out like bullets. 

Miss Brodie glanced at him with a new admiration in her face. As arule she objected to being ordered about, but somehow it seemed good toaccept commands from this young man, whose usually genial face was nowset in such resolute lines. 

"Here, Rob, you cut home and tell them not to wait dinner for me. "

"All right, Jack!" But instead of tearing off as was his wont wheneverhis brother gave command, Rob lingered. "Can't I wait a bit, Jack, tosee--to see if anything--?" Rob was striving hard to keep his voice incommand and his face steady. "It's Cameron, Jack. I know!" He turned hisback on Miss Brodie, unwilling that she should see his lips quiver. 

"What are you talking about?" said his brother sharply. 

"Oh, it is all my stupid fault, Mr. Dunn, " said Miss Brodie. "Let himcome along a bit with us. I say, youngster, you are much too acute, " shecontinued, as they went striding along together toward Mr. Rae's office. "But will you believe me if I tell you something? Will you? Straightnow?"

The boy glanced up into her honest blue eyes, and nodded his head. 

"Your friend Cameron is quite all right. He was in some difficulty, butnow he's quite all right. Do you believe me?"

The boy looked again steadily into her eyes. The anxious fear passedout of his face, and once more he nodded; he knew he could not keep hisvoice quite steady. But after a few paces he said to his brother, "Ithink I'll go now, Jack. " His mind was at rest; his idol was safe. 

"Oh, come along and protect me, " cried Miss Brodie. "These lawyer peopleterrify me. "

The boy smiled a happy smile. "I'll go, " he said resolutely. 

"Thanks, awfully, " said Miss Brodie. "I shall feel so much safer withyou in the waiting room. "

It was a difficult matter to surprise Mr. Rae, and even more difficultto extract from him any sign of surprise, but when Dunn, leaving MissBrodie and his brother in the anteroom, entered Mr. Rae's private officeand laid the letter for Mr. Sheratt before him, remarking, "This letteris from Sir Archibald, and withdraws the prosecution, " Mr. Rae stoodspeechless, gazing now at the letter in his hand, and now at Mr. Dunn'sface. 

"God bless my soul! This is unheard of. How came you by this, Sir?"

"Miss Brodie--" began Dunn. 

"Miss Brodie?"

"She is in the waiting room, Sir. "

"Then, for heaven's sake, bring her in! Davie, Davie! Where is that mannow? Here, Davie, a message to Mr. Thomlinson. "

Davie entered with deliberate composure. 

"My compliments to Mr. Thomlinson, and ask if he would step over atonce. It is a matter of extreme urgency. Be quick!"

But Davie had his own mind as to the fitness of things. "Wad a note no'be better, Sir? Wull not--?"

"Go, will you!" almost shouted Mr. Rae. 

Davie was so startled at Mr. Rae's unusual vehemence that he seized hiscap and made for the door. "He'll no' come for the like o' me, " hesaid, pausing with the door-knob in his hand. "It's no' respectable liketae--"

"Man, will ye no' be gone?" cried Mr. Rae, rising from his chair. 

"I will that!" exclaimed Davie, banging the door after him. "But, " hecried furiously, thrusting his head once more into the room, "if he'llno' come it's no' faut o' mine. " His voice rose higher and higher, andended in a wrathful scream as Mr. Rae, driven to desperation, hurled alaw book of some weight at his vanishing head. 

"The de'il take ye! Ye'll be my deith yet. "

The book went crashing against the door-frame just as Miss Brodie wasabout to enter. "I say, " she cried, darting back. "Heaven protect me!Rob, save me!"

Rob sprang to her side. She stood for a moment gazing aghast at Mr. Dunn, who gazed back at her in equal surprise. "Is this his 'usual'?"she inquired. 

At that the door opened. "Ah, Mr. Dunn, this is Miss Brodie, I suppose. Come in, come in!" Mr. Rae's manner was most bland. 

Miss Brodie gave him her hand with some hesitation. "I'm very glad tomeet you, Mr. Rae, but is this quite the usual method? I mean to say, I've heard of having advice hurled at one's head, but I can't say that Iever was present at a demonstration of the method. "

"Oh, " said Mr. Rae, with bland and gallant courtesy, "the method, mydear young lady, varies with the subject in hand. "

"Ah, the subject!"

"And with the object in view. "

"Oh, I see. "

"But pray be seated. And now explain this most wonderful phenomenon. " Hetapped the letter. 

"Oh, that is quite simple, " said Miss Brodie. "I set the case of youngMr. Cameron before my uncle, and of course he at once saw that the onlything to do was withdraw the prosecution. "

Mr. Rae stood gazing steadily at her as if striving to take in themeaning of her words, the while screwing up his ear most violently tillit stuck out like a horn upon the side of his shiny, bald head. "Permitme to say, Miss Brodie, " he said, with a deliberate and measuredemphasis, "that you must be a most extraordinary young lady. " At thispoint Mr. Rae's smile broke forth in all its glory. 

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Rae, " replied Miss Brodie, smiling responsively athim. "You are most--" But Mr. Rae's smile had vanished. "What! I begyour pardon!" Miss Brodie's smiling response was abruptly arrested byfinding herself gazing at a face whose grave solemnity rebuked her smileas unwarranted levity. 

"Not at all, not at all!" said Mr. Rae. "But now, there are mattersdemanding immediate action. First, Mr. Sheratt must receive and actupon this letter without delay. " As he spoke he was scribbling hastilya note. "Mr. Dunn, my young men have gone for the day. Might I troubleyou?"

"Most certainly, " cried Mr. Dunn. "Is an answer wanted?"

"Bring him with you, if possible; indeed, bring him whether it ispossible or not. But wait, it is past the hour appointed. Already theofficer has gone for young Cameron. We must save him the humiliation ofarrest. "

"Oh, could I not warn him?" cried Miss Brodie eagerly. "No, " she added, "Rob will go. He is in the waiting room now, poor little chap. It willbe a joy to him. "

"It is just as well Rob should know nothing. He is awfully fond ofCameron. It would break his heart, " said Mr. Dunn. 

"Oh, of course! Quite unnecessary that he should know anything. Wesimply wish Cameron here at the earliest possible moment. "

Dunn went with his young brother down the stairs and out to the street. "Now, Rob, you are to go to Cameron's lodgings and tell him that Mr. Raewants him, and that I want him. Hold on, youngster!" he cried, grabbingRob by the collar, "do you understand? It is very important that Cameronshould get here as quick as he possibly can, and--I say, Rob, " the bigbrother's eyes traveled over the darkening streets that led up into theold town, "you're not afraid?"

"A wee bit, " said Rob, tugging at the grasp on his collar; "but I don'tcare if I am. "

"Good boy!" cried his brother. "Good little brick! I wouldn't let yougo, but it's simply got to be done, old chap. Now fly!" He held him justa moment longer to slap him on the back, then released his hold. Dunnstood watching the little figure tearing up the North Bridge. "Greatlittle soul!" he muttered. "Now for old Sheratt!"

He put his head down and began to bore through the crowd toward Mr. Sheratt's house. When he had gone but a little distance he was broughtup short by a bang full in the stomach. "Why, what the deuce!"

"Dod gast ye! Whaur are ye're een?" It was Davie, breathless and furiousfrom the impact. "Wad ye walk ower me, dang ye?" cried the little managain. Davie was Free Kirk, and therefore limited in the range of hisvocabulary. 

"Oh! That you, Davie? I'm sorry I didn't see you. "

"A'm no' as big as a hoose, but a'm veesible. " And Davie walkedwrathfully about his business. 

"Oh, quite, " acknowledged Dunn cheerfully, hurrying on; "and tangible, as well. "

"He's comin', " cried Davie over his shoulder; "but gar it had beenmasel', " he added grudgingly, "catch me!"

But Dunn was too far on his way to make reply. Already his mind was onthe meeting of the lawyers in Mr. Rae's office, and wondering what wouldcome of it. On this subject he meditated until he reached Mr. Sheratt'shome. Twice he rang the bell, still meditating. 

"By Jove, she is stunning! She's a wonder!" he exclaimed to himself ashe stood in Mr. Sheratt's drawing-room. "She's got 'em all skinned amile, as Martin would say. " It is safe to affirm that Mr. Dunn was notreferring to the middle-aged and highly respectable maid who hadopened the door to him. It is equally safe to affirm that this was theunanimous verdict of the three men who, half an hour later, broughttheir deliberations to a conclusion, frankly acknowledging to eachother that what they had one and all failed to achieve, the lady hadaccomplished. 

CHAPTER VI

THE WASTER'S REFUGE

"I say, you blessed Colonial, what's come over you?" Linklater wasobviously disturbed. He had just returned from a summer's yachtingthrough the Norway fjords, brown and bursting with life. The lasthalf-hour he had been pouring forth his experiences to his friendMartin. These experiences were some of them exciting, some of themof doubtful ethical quality, but all of them to Linklater at leastinteresting. During the recital it was gradually borne in upon him thathis friend Martin was changed. Linklater, as the consciousness of thechange in his friend grew upon him, was prepared to resent it. "What thedeuce is the matter with you?" he enquired. "Are you ill?"

"Never better. I could at this present moment sit upon your fat andflorid carcass. "

"Well, what then is wrong? I say, you haven't--it isn't a girl, is it?"

"Nothing so lucky for a bloomin' Colonial in this land of wealth andculture. If I only dared!"

"There's something, " insisted Linklater; "but I've no doubt itwill develop. Meantime let us go out, and, in your own picturesquevocabulary, let us 'hit the flowing bowl. '"

"No, Sir!" cried Martin emphatically. "No more! I am on the water wagon, and have been all summer. "

"I knew it was something, " replied Linklater gloomily, "but I didn'tthink it was quite so bad as that. No wonder you've had a hard summer!"

"Best summer ever!" cried Martin. "I only wish I had started two yearsago when I came to this bibulous burgh. "

"How came it? Religion?"

"No; just horse sense, and the old chief. "

"Dunn!" exclaimed Linklater. "I always knew he was against that sort ofthing in training, but I didn't think he would carry it to this length. "

"Yes, Dunn! I say, old boy, I've no doubt you think you know him, Ithought so, too, but I've learned some this summer. Here's a yarn, andit is impressive. Dunn had planned an extensive walking tour in theHighlands; you know he came out of his exams awfully fagged. Well, atthis particular moment it happened that Balfour Murray--you know thechap that has been running that settlement joint in the Canongate forthe last two years--proposes to Dunn that he should spend a few weeksin leading the young hopefuls in that interesting and uncleanlyneighbourhood into paths of virtue and higher citizenship by way ofsoccer and kindred athletic stunts. Dunn in his innocence agrees, whereupon Balfour Murray promptly develops a sharp attack of pneumonia, necessitating rest and change of air, leaving the poor old chief in thedeadly breach. Of course, everybody knows what the chief would do in anydeadly breach affair. He gave up his Highland tour, shouldered the wholeCanongate business, organised the thing as never before, inveigled allhis friends into the same deadly breach, among the number your humbleservant, who at the time was fiercely endeavouring in the last lap ofthe course to atone for a two years' loaf, organised a champion teamwhich has licked the spots off everything in sight, and in short, hasmade the whole business a howling success; at the cost, however, of allworldly delights, including his Highland tour and the International. "

"Oh, I say!" moaned Linklater. "It makes me quite ill to think of theold chief going off this way. "

Martin nodded sympathetically. "Kind of 'Days that are no more, ' 'Lostleader' feeling, eh?"

"Exactly, exactly! Oh, it's rotten! And you, too! He's got you on thissame pious line. "

"Look here, " shouted Martin, with menace in his voice, "are youclassifying me with the old chief? Don't be a derned fool. "

Linklater brightened perceptibly. "Now you're getting a little natural, "he said in a hopeful tone. 

"Oh, I suppose you'd like to hear me string out a lot of damns. "

"Well, it might help. I wouldn't feel quite so lonely. But don'tviolate--"

"I'd do it if I thought it would really increase your comfort, thoughI know I'd feel like an infernal ass. I've got new light upon this'damning' business. I've come to regard it as the refuge of the mentallyinert, not to say imbecile, who have lost the capacity for originalityand force in speech. For me, I am cured. "

"Ah!" said Linklater. "Dunn again, I suppose. "

"Not a bit! Clear case of psychological reaction. After listening tothe Canongate experts I was immediately conscious of an overwhelmingand mortifying sense of inadequacy, of amateurishness; hence I quit. Besides, of course, the chief is making rather a point of uplifting theCanongate forms of speech. "

Linklater gazed steadily at this friend, then said with mournfuldeliberation, "You don't drink, you don't swear, you don't smoke--"

"Oh, that's your grouch, is it?" cried Martin. "Forgive me; here'smy pouch, old chap; or wait, here's something altogether finer thananything you've been accustomed to. I was at old Kingston's last night, and the old boy would have me load up with his finest. You know I'vebeen working with him this summer. Awfully fine for me! Dunn got me on;or rather, his governor. There you are now! Smoke that with reverence. "

"Ah, " sighed Linklater, as he drew in his first whiff, "there is stillsomething left to live for. Now tell me, what about Cameron?"

"Oh, Cameron! Cameron's all up a tree. The last time I saw him, by Jove, I was glad it was in the open daylight and on a frequented street. Hisface and manner suggested Roderick Dhu, The Black Douglas, and all therest of that interesting gang of cutthroats. I can't bring myself totalk of Cameron. He's been the old chief's relaxation during dog-days. It makes me hot to see Dunn with that chap. "

"Why, what's the trouble?"

"He tried him out in half a dozen positions, in every one of which heproved a dead failure. The last was in Mr. Rae's office, a lawyer, youknow, Writer, to use your lucid and luminous speech. That experimentproved the climax. " At the memory of that experience Martin laughed loudand long. "It was funny! Mr. Rae, the cool, dignified, methodical, exactman of the law, struggling to lick into shape this haughty Highlandchieftain, who in his heart scorned the whole silly business. Theresult, the complete disorganisation of Mr. Rae's business, andtotal demoralisation of Mr. Rae's office staff, who one and all sworeallegiance to the young chief. Finally, when Mr. Rae had reached thedepths of desperation, Cameron graciously deigned to inform his bossthat he found the office and its claims quite insupportable. "

"Oh, it must have been funny. What happened?"

"What happened? You bet old Rae fell on his neck with tears of joy, andsent him off with a handsome honorarium, as your gentle speech has it. That was a fortnight ago. Then Dunn, in despair, took Cameron off to hisnative haunts, and there he is to this day. By the same token, this isthe very afternoon that Dunn returns. Let us go to meet him with cornetsand cymbals! The unexpected pleasure of your return made me quiteforget. But won't he revel in you, old boy!"

"I don't know about that, " said Linklater gloomily. "I've a kind offeeling that I've dropped out of this combination. "

"What?" Then Martin fell upon him. 

But if Martin's attempts to relieve his friend of melancholy forebodingswere not wholly successful, Dunn's shout of joy and his double-handedshake as he grappled Linklater to him, drove from that young man's heartthe last lingering shade of doubt as to his standing with his friends. 

On his way home Dunn dropped into Martin's diggings for a "crack, " andfor an hour the three friends reviewed the summer's happenings, eachfinding in the experience of the others as keen a joy as in his own. 

Linklater's holiday had been the most fruitful in exciting incident. For two months he and his crew had dodged about among quaint Norwegianharbours and in and out of fjords of wonderful beauty. Storms theyhad weathered and calms they had endured; lazy days they had spent, swimming, fishing, loafing; and wild days in fighting gales andhigh-running seas that threatened to bury them and their crew beneaththeir white-topped mountainous peaks. 

"I say, that must have been great, " cried Dunn with enthusiastic delightin his friend's experiences. 

"It sounds good, even in the telling, " cried Martin, who had beenlistening with envious ears. "Now my experiences are quite other. Oneword describes them, grind, grind, grind, day in and day out, in agallant but futile attempt to justify the wisdom of my late examiners ingranting me my Triple. "

"Don't listen to him, Linklater, " said Dunn. "I happen to know that hecame through with banners flying and drums beating; and he has turnedinto no end of a surgeon. I've heard old Kingston on him. "

"But what about you, Dunn?" asked Linklater, with a kind of curiousuncertainty in his voice, as if dreading a tale of calamity. 

"Oh, I've loafed about town a little, golfing a bit and slumming abit for a chap that got ill, and in spare moments looking after Martinhere. "

"And the International?"

Dunn hesitated. 

"Come on, old chap, " said Martin, "take your medicine. "

"Well, " admitted Dunn, "I had to chuck it. But, " he hastened to add, "Nesbitt has got the thing in fine shape, though of course lacking thetwo brilliant quarters of last year and the half--for Cameron's out ofit--it's rather rough on Nesbitt. "

"Oh, I say! It's rotten, it's really ghastly! How could you do it, Dunn?" said Linklater. "I could weep tears of blood. "

To this Dunn made no reply. His disappointment was even yet too keenfor him to treat it lightly. "Anything else seemed quite impossible, " atlength he said; "I had to chuck it. "

"By the way, " said Martin, "how's Cameron?"

Again Dunn paused. "I wish I could tell you. He's had hard luck thissummer. He somehow can't get hold of himself. In fact, I'm quite worriedabout Cameron. I can't tell you chaps the whole story, but last springhe had a really bad jolt. "

"Well, what's he going to do?" Martin asked, somewhat impatiently. 

"I wish I knew, " replied Dunn gloomily. "There seems nothing he canget here that's suitable. I'm afraid he will have to try the Colonies;Canada for preference. "

"Oh, I say, Dunn, " exclaimed Martin, "it can't really be as bad as allthat?"

Dunn laughed. "I apologise, old chap. That was rather a bad break, wasn't it? But all the same, to a Scotchman, and especially to aHighlander, to leave home and friends and all that sort of thing, youknow--"

"No, he doesn't know, " cried Linklater. "The barbarian! How could he?"

"No, thank God, " replied Martin fervently, "I don't know! To my mind anyman that has a chance to go to Canada on a good job ought to call in hisfriends and neighbours to rejoice with him. "

"But I say, that reminds me, " said Dunn. "Mr. Rae is coming to have atalk with my governor and me about this very thing to-morrow night. I'dlike awfully if you could drop in, Martin; and you, too, Linklater. "

Linklater declined. "My folks have something on, I fear. "

Martin hesitated, protesting that there was "altogether too much of thiscoddling business" in the matter of Cameron's future. "Besides, my workis rather crowding me. "

"Oh, my pious ancestors! Work!" exclaimed Linklater in disgust. "At thisseason of the year! Come, Martin, this pose is unworthy of you. "

"If you could, old man, " said Dunn earnestly, "we won't keep you long. It would be a great help to us all. "

"All right, I'll come, " said Martin. 

"There'll be no one there but Mr. Rae. We'll just have a smoke and achat. "

But in this expectation Dunn was reckoning without his young brother, Rob, who, ever since a certain momentous evening, had entered intoa covenant of comradeship with the young lady who had figured soprominently in the deliverance of his beloved Cameron from pending evil, and who during the summer had allowed no week to pass without spendingat least a part of a day with her. On this particular evening, havingobtained leave from his mother, the young gentle man had succeeded inpersuading his friend to accept an invitation to dinner, assuring herthat no one would be there except Jack, who was to arrive home the daybefore. 

The conclave of Cameron's friends found themselves, therefore, unexpectedly reinforced by the presence of Miss Brodie, to the unmingledjoy of all of them, although in Martin's case his joy was tinged with acertain fear, for he stood in awe of the young lady, both because of herreputation for cleverness, and because of the grand air which, when itpleased her, she could assume. Martin, too, stood in wholesome aweof Doctor Dunn, whose quiet dignity and old-time courtesy exercised achastening influence upon the young man's somewhat picturesque style oflanguage and exuberance of metaphor. But with Mrs. Dunn he felt quiteat ease, for with that gentle, kindly soul, her boys' friends were herfriends and without question she took them to her motherly heart. 

Immediately upon Mr. Rae's arrival Cameron's future became the subjectof conversation, and it required only the briefest discussion to arriveat the melancholy, inevitable conclusion that, as Mr. Rae put it, "fora young man of his peculiar temperament, training, and habits, Scotlandwas clearly impossible. "

"But I have no doubt, " continued that excellent adviser, "that inCanada, where the demand for a high standard of efficiency is lessexacting, and where openings are more plentiful, the young man will dovery well indeed. "

Martin took the lawyer up somewhat sharply. "In other words, Iunderstand you to mean that the man who is a failure in Scotland maybecome a success in Canada. "

"Exactly so. Would you not say so, Mr. Martin?"

"It depends entirely upon the cause of failure. If failure arises fromunfitness, his chances in Canada are infinitely less than in Scotland. "

"And why?" inquired Miss Brodie somewhat impatiently. 

Martin hesitated. It was extremely difficult in the atmosphere of thathome to criticise one whom he knew to be considered as a friend of thefamily. 

"Why, pray?" repeated Miss Brodie. 

"Well, of course, " began Martin hesitatingly, "comparisons are alwaysodious. "

"Oh, we can bear them. " Miss Brodie's smile was slightly sarcastic. 

"Well, then, speaking generally, " said Martin, somewhat nettled by hersmile, "in this country there are heaps of chaps that simply can't falldown because of the supports that surround them, supports of custom, tradition, not to speak of their countless friends, sisters, cousins, and aunts; if they're anyways half decent they're kept a going; whereasif they are in a new country and with few friends, they must stand aloneor fall. Here the crowd support them; there the crowd, eager to get on, shove them aside or trample them down. "

"Rather a ghastly picture that, " said Miss Brodie. 

"But true; that is, of the unfit. People haven't time to bother withthem; the game is too keen. "

"Surely the picture is overdrawn, " said Doctor Dunn. 

"It may be, Sir, " replied Martin, "but I have seen so many young fellowswho had been shipped out to Canada because they were failures at home. Ihave seen them in very hard luck. "

"And what about the fit?" inquired Miss Brodie. 

"They get credit for every ounce that's in them. "

"But that is so in Scotland as well. "

"Pardon me, Miss Brodie, hardly. Here even strong men and fit men haveto wait half a lifetime for the chance that calls for all that's inthem. They must march in the procession and the pace is leisurely. InCanada the chances come every day, and the man that's ready jumps in andwins. "

"Ah, I see!" exclaimed Miss Brodie. "There are more ladders by which toclimb. "

"Yes, " cried Martin, "and fewer men on them. "

"But, " argued Dunn, "there are other causes of failure in this country. Many a young fellow, for instance, cannot get a congenial position. "

"Yes, " replied Martin quickly, "because you won't let him; your castelaw forbids. With us a man can do anything decent and no one thinks theless of him. "

"Ah, I see!" again cried Miss Brodie, more eagerly than before. "Notonly more ladders, but more kinds of ladders. "

"Exactly, " said Martin with an approving glance. "And he must not be toolong in the choosing. "

"Then, Mr. Martin, " said Mr. Rae, "what would you suggest for our youngfriend?"

But this Martin refused to answer. 

"Surely there are openings for a young fellow in Canada, " said Dunn. "Take a fellow like myself. What could I do?"

"You?" cried Martin, his eyes shining with loving enthusiasm. "There aredoors open on every business street in every town and city in Canada foryou, or for any fellow who has brain or brawn to sell and who will takeany kind of a job and stay with it. "

"Well, what job, for instance?"

"What job?" cried Martin. "Heaps of them. "

At this point a diversion was created by the entrance of "Lily"Laughton. Both Martin and Dunn envied the easy grace of his manner, hisperfect self-possession, as he greeted each member of the company. For each he had exactly the right word. Miss Brodie he greeted with anexaggerated devotion, but when he shook hands with Dunn there was nomistaking the genuine warmth of his affection. 

"Heard you were home, old chap, so I couldn't help dropping in. Ofcourse I knew that Mrs. Dunn would be sure to be here, and I more thansuspected that my dear Miss Brodie, " here he swept her an elaborate bow, "whom I discovered to be away from her own home, might be found in thispleasant company. "

"Yes, I fear that my devotion to her youngest boy is leading me tooverstep the bounds of even Mrs. Dunn's vast and generous hospitality. "

"Not a bit, my dear, " replied Mrs. Dunn kindly. "You bring sunshine withyou, and you do us all good. "

"Exactly my sentiments!" exclaimed "Lily" with enthusiasm. "But what areyou all doing? Just having a 'collyshog'?"

For a moment no one replied; then Dunn said, "We were just talking aboutCameron, who is thinking of going to Canada. "

"To Canada of all places!" exclaimed "Lily" in tones of horrifiedsurprise. "How truly dreadful! But why should Cameron of all beingsexile himself in those remote and barbarous regions?"

"And why should he not?" cried Miss Brodie. "What is there for a youngman of spirit in Mr. Cameron's position in this country?"

"Why, my dear Miss Brodie, how can you ask? Just think of the heaps ofthings, of perfectly delicious things, Cameron can do, --the Highlands insummer, Edinburgh, London, in the season, a run to the Continent! Justthink of the wild possibility of a life of unalloyed bliss!"

"Don't be silly!" said Miss Brodie. "We are talking seriously. "

"Seriously! Why, my dear Miss Brodie, do you imagine--?"

"But what could he do for a life-work?" said Dunn. "A fellow must havesomething to do. "

"Oh, dear, I suppose so, " said "Lily" with a sigh. "But surely he couldhave some position in an office or something!"

"Exactly!" replied Miss Brodie. "How beautifully you put it! Now Mr. Martin was just about to tell us of the things a man could do in Canadawhen you interrupted. "

"Awfully sorry, Martin. I apologise. Please go on. What do the nativesdo in Canada?"

"Please don't pay any attention to him, Mr. Martin. I am extremelyinterested. Now tell me, what are the openings for a young fellow inCanada? You said the professions are all wide open. "

It took a little persuasion to get Martin started again, so disgustedwas he with Laughton's references to his native country. "Yes, MissBrodie, the professions are all wide open, but of course men must enteras they do here, but with a difference. Take law, for instance: Knew achap--went into an office at ten dollars a month--didn't know a thingabout it. In three months he was raised to twenty dollars, and within ayear to forty dollars. In three or four years he had passed his exams, got a junior partnership worth easily two thousand dollars a year. Theywanted that chap, and wanted him badly. But take business: That chapgoes into a store and--"

"A store?" inquired "Lily. "

"Yes, a shop you call it here; say a drygoods--"

"Drygoods? What extraordinary terms these Colonials use!"

"Oh, draper's shop, " said Dunn impatiently. "Go on, Martin; don't mindhim. "

"A draper's clerk!" echoed "Lily. " "To sell tapes and things?"

"Yes, " replied Martin stoutly; "or groceries. "

"Do you by any chance mean that a University man, a gentleman, takes aposition in a grocer's shop to sell butter and cheese?"

"I mean just that, " said Martin firmly. 

"Oh, please!" said "Lily" with a violent shudder. "It is too awful!"

"There you are! You wouldn't demean yourself. "

"Not I!" said "Lily" fervently. 

"Or disgrace your friends. You want a gentleman's job. There are notenough to go round in Canada. "

"Oh, go on, " said Miss Brodie impatiently. "'Lily, ' we must ask you tonot interrupt. What happens? Does he stay there?"

"Not he!" said Martin. "From the small business he goes to biggerbusiness. First thing you know a man wants him for a big job and off hegoes. Meantime he saves his money, invests wisely. Soon he is his ownboss. "

"That's fine!" cried Miss Brodie. "Go on, Mr. Martin. Start him lowerdown. "

"All right, " said Martin, directing his attention solely to the younglady. "Here's an actual case. A young fellow from Scotland found himselfstrapped--"

"Strapped? What DOES he mean?" said "Lily" in an appealing voice. 

"On the rocks. "

"Rocks?"

"Dear me!" cried Miss Brodie impatiently. "You are terribly lacking inimagination. Broke, he means. "

"Oh, thanks!"

"Well, finds himself broke, " said Martin; "gets a shovel, jumps into acellar--"

"And why a cellar, pray?" inquires "Lily" mildly. "To hide himself fromthe public?"

"Not at all; they were digging a cellar preparatory to building ahouse. "

"Oh!"

"He jumps in, blisters his hands, breaks his back--but he stays with thejob. In a week the boss makes him timekeeper; in three months he himselfis boss of a small gang; the next year he is made foreman at a hundred amonth or so. "

"A hundred a month?" cries "Lily" in astonishment. "Oh, Martin, please!We are green, but a hundred pounds a month--!"

"Dollars, " said Martin shortly. "Don't be an ass! I beg pardon, " headded, turning to Mrs. Dunn, who was meantime greatly amused. 

"A hundred dollars a month; that is--I am so weak in arithmetic--twentypounds, I understand. Go on, Martin; I'm waiting for the carriage andpair. "

"That's where you get left, " said Martin. "No carriage and pair for thischap yet awhile; overalls and slouch hat for the next five years forhim. Then he begins contracting on his own. "

"I beg your pardon, " says "Lily. "

"I mean he begins taking jobs on his own. "

"Great!" cried Miss Brodie. 

"Or, " continued Martin, now fairly started on a favourite theme, "thereare the railroads all shouting for men of experience, whether in theconstruction department or in the operating department. "

"Does anyone here happen to understand him?" inquires "Lily" faintly. 

"Certainly, " cried Miss Brodie; "all the intelligent people do. Atleast, I've a kind of notion there are big things doing. I only wish Iwere a man!"

"Oh, Miss Brodie, how can you?" cried "Lily. " "Think of us in such acontingency!"

"But, " said Mr. Rae, "all of this is most interesting, extremelyinteresting, Mr. Martin. Still, they cannot all arrive at these exaltedpositions. "

"No, Mr. Rae. I may have given that impression. I confess to a littlemadness when I begin talking Canada. "

"Ah!" exclaimed "Lily. "

"But I said men of brawn and brains, you remember. "

"And bounce, to perfect the alliteration, " murmured "Lily. "

"Yes, bounce, too, " said Martin; "at least, he must never takeback-water; he must be ready to attempt anything, even the impossible. "

"That's the splendid thing about it!" cried Miss Brodie. "You'reentirely on your own and you never say die!"

"Oh, my dear Miss Brodie, " moaned "Lily" in piteous accents, "you are sofearfully energetic! And then, it's all very splendid, but just thinkof a--of a gentleman having to potter around among butter and cheese, or mess about in muddy cellars! Ugh! Positively GHAWSTLY! I would simplydie. "

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, 'Lily, '" said Martin kindly. "We have afternoonteas and Browning Clubs, too, you must remember, and some 'cultchaw' andthat sort of thing. "

There was a joyous shout from Dunn. 

"But, Mr. Martin, " persisted Mr. Rae, whose mind was set in arriving ata solution of the problem in hand, "I have understood that agriculturewas the chief pursuit in Canada. "

"Farming! Yes, it is, but of course that means capital. Good land inOntario means seventy-five to a hundred dollars per acre, and a mancan't do with less than a hundred acres; besides, farming is getting tobe a science now-a-days, Sir. "

"Ah, quite true! But to a young man bred on a farm in this country--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Rae, " replied Martin quickly, "there is no such thing inCanada as a gentleman farmer. The farmer works with his men. "

"Do you mean that he actually works?" inquired "Lily. " "With the ploughand hoe, and that sort of thing?"

"Works all day long, as long as any of his men, and indeed longer. "

"And does he actually live--? of course he doesn't eat with hisservants?" said "Lily" in a tone that deprecated the preposterousproposition. 

"They all eat together in the big kitchen, " replied Martin. 

"How awful!" gasped "Lily. "

"My father does, " replied Martin, a little colour rising in his cheek, "and my mother, and my brothers. They all eat with the men; my sister, too, except when she waits on table. "

"Fine!" exclaimed Miss Brodie. "And why not? 'Lily, ' I'm afraid you'rehorribly snobbish. "

"Thank the Lord, " said "Lily" devoutly, "I live in this belovedScotland!"

"But, Mr. Martin, forgive my persistence, I understand there is cheaperland in certain parts of Canada; in, say, ManitoBAW. "

"Ah, yes, Sir, of course, lots of it; square miles of it!" cried Martinwith enthusiasm. "The very best out of doors, and cheap, but I fancythere are some hardships in Manitoba. "

"But I see by the public newspapers, " continued Mr. Rae, "that there isa very large movement in the way of emigration toward that country. "

"Yes, there's a great boom on in Manitoba just now. "

"Boom?" said "Lily. " "And what exactly may that be in the vernacular?"

"I take it, " said Mr. Rae, evidently determined not to allow theconversation to get out of his hands, "you mean a great excitementconsequent upon the emigration and the natural rise in land values?"

"Yes, Sir, " cried Martin, "you've hit it exactly. "

"Then would there not be opportunity to secure a considerable amount ofland at a low figure in that country?"

"Most certainly! But it's fair to say that success there means work andhardship and privation. Of course it is always so in a new country; itwas so in Ontario. Why, the new settlers in Manitoba don't know whathardships mean in comparison with those that faced the early settlers inOntario. My father, when a little boy of ten years, went with his fatherinto the solid forest; you don't know what that means in this country, and no one can who has not seen a solid mass of green reaching from theground a hundred feet high without a break in it except where the trailenters. Into that solid forest in single file went my grandfather, his two little boys, and one ox carrying a bag of flour, some pork andstuff. By a mark on a tree they found the corner of their farm. " Martinpaused. 

"Do go on, " said Miss Brodie. "Tell me the very first thing he did. "

But Martin seemed to hesitate. "Well, " he began slowly, "I've oftenheard my father tell it. When they came to that tree with the mark onit, grandfather said, 'Boys, we have reached our home. Let us thankGod. ' He went up to a big spruce tree, drove his ax in to the butt, thenkneeled down with the two little boys beside him, and I have heard myfather say that when he looked away up between the big trees and saw thebit of blue sky there, he thought God was listening at that blue holebetween the tree-tops. " Martin paused abruptly, and for a few momentssilence held the group. Then Doctor Dunn, clearing his throat, said withquiet emphasis:

"And he was right, my boy; make no doubt of that. "

"Then?" inquired Miss Brodie softly. "If you don't mind. "

Martin laughed. "Then they had grub, and that afternoon grandfather cutthe trees and the boys limbed them off, clearing the ground where thefirst house stood. That night they slept in a little brush hut that didthem for a house until grandmother came two weeks later. "

"What?" said Doctor Dunn. "Your grandmother went into the forest?"

"Yes, Sir, " said Martin; "and two miles of solid black bush stretchedbetween her and the next woman. "

"Why, of course, my dear, " said Mrs. Dunn, taking part for the firsttime in the conversation. "What else?"

They all laughed. 

"Of course, Mother, " said her eldest son, "that's what you would do. "

"So would I, Mamma, wouldn't I?" whispered Rob, leaning towards her. 

"Certainly, my dear, " replied his mother; "I haven't the slightestdoubt. "

"And so would any woman worth her salt if she loved her husband, " criedMiss Brodie with great emphasis. 

"Why, why, " cried Doctor Dunn, "it's the same old breed, Mother. "

"But in Manitoba--?" began Mr. Rae, still clinging to the subject. 

"Oh, in Manitoba there is no forest to cut. However, there are otherdifficulties. Still, hundreds are crowding in, and any man who has thecourage and the nerve to stay with it can get on. "

"And what did they do for schools?" said Mrs. Dunn, returning to thetheme that had so greatly interested her. 

"There were no schools until father was too big to be spared to goexcept for a few weeks in the winter. "

"How big do you mean?"

"Say fifteen. "

"Fifteen!" exclaimed Miss Brodie. "A mere infant!"

"Infant!" said Martin. "Not much! At fifteen my father was doing a man'sfull work in the bush and on the farm, and when he grew to be a man hecleared most of his own land, too. Why, when I was eleven I drove myteam all day on the farm. "

"And how did you get your education, Mr. Martin?"

"Oh, they kept me at school pretty steadily, except in harvest and haytime, until I was fourteen, and after that in the winter months. When Iwas sixteen I got a teacher's certificate, and then it was easy enough. "

"And did you put yourself through college?" inquired Mr. Rae, bothinterest and admiration in his voice, for now they were on groundfamiliar in his own experience. 

"Why, yes, mostly. Father helped, I suspect more than he ought to, buthe was anxious for me to get through. "

"Rob, " cried Miss Brodie suddenly, "let's go! What do you say? We'll geta big bit of that land in the West, and won't it be splendid to build upour own estate and all that?"

Rob glanced from her into his mother's face. "I'd like it fine, Mamma, "he said in a low voice, slipping his hand into hers. 

"But what about me, Rob?" said his mother, smiling tenderly down intothe eager face. 

"Oh, I'd come back for you, Mamma. "

"Hold on there, youngster, " said his elder brother, "there are othersthat might have something to say about that. But I say, Martin, "continued Dunn, "we hear a lot about the big ranches further West. "

"Yes, in Alberta, but I confess I don't know much about them. Therailways are just building and people are beginning to go in. Butranching needs capital, too. It must be a great life! They practicallylive in the saddle. It's a glorious country!"

"On the whole, then, " said Mr. Rae, as if summing up the discussion, "ayoung man has better opportunities of making his fortune, so to speak, in the far West rather than in, say, Ontario. "

"I didn't speak of fortune, Mr. Rae, --fortune is a chance thing, more orless, --but what I say is this, that any young man not afraid of work, of any kind of work, and willing to stay with his job, can make a livingand get a home in any part of Canada, with a bigger chance of fortune inthe West. "

"All I say, Mr. Rae, is this, " said Miss Brodie emphatically, "that Ionly wish I were a man with just such a chance as young Cameron!"

"Ah, my dear young lady, if all the young men were possessed of yourspirit, it would matter little where they went, for they would achievedistinct success. " As he spoke Mr. Rae's smile burst forth in all itseffulgent glory. 

"Dear Mr. Rae, how very clever of you to discover that!" replied MissBrodie, smiling sweetly into Mr. Rae's radiant face. "And how very sweetof you--ah, I beg your pardon; that is--" The disconcerting rapiditywith which Mr. Rae's smile gave place to an appearance of grave, of evensevere solemnity, threw Miss Brodie quite "out of her stride, " asMartin said afterward, and left her floundering in a hopeless attempt tocomplete her compliment. 

Her confusion was the occasion of unlimited joy to "Lily, " who was notunfamiliar with this facial phenomenon on the part of Mr. Rae. "Oh, Isay!" he cried to Dunn in a gale of smothered laughter, "how does thedear man do it? It is really too lovely! I must learn the trick of that. I have never seen anything quite so appallingly flabbergasting. "

Meantime Mr. Rae was blandly assisting Miss Brodie out of her dilemma. "Not at all, Miss Brodie, not at all! But, " he continued, throwinghis smile about the room, "I think, Doctor Dunn, we have reason tocongratulate ourselves upon not only a pleasant but an extremelyprofitable evening--ah--as far as the matter in hand is concerned. Ihope to have further speech with our young friend, " bowing to Mr. Martinand bringing his smile to bear upon that young gentleman. 

"Oh, certainly, " began Martin with ready geniality, "whenever you--eh?What did you say, Sir? I didn't quite--"

But Mr. Rae was already bidding Mrs. Dunn goodnight, with a face ofpreternatural gravity. 

"What the deuce!" said Martin, turning to his friend Dunn. "Does the oldboy often go off at half-cock that way? He'll hurt himself some time, sure. "

"Isn't it awful?" said Dunn. "He's got me a few times that way, too. ButI say, old boy, we're awfully grateful to you for coming. "

"I feel like a fool, " said Martin; "as if I'd been delivering alecture. "

"Don't think it, " cried Miss Brodie, who had drawn near. "You've beenperfectly lovely, and I am so glad to have got to know you better. Forme, I am quite resolved to go to Canada. "

"But do you think they can really spare us all, Miss Brodie?" exclaimed"Lily" in an anxious voice. "For, of course, if you go we must. "

"No, 'Lily, ' I'm quite sure they can't spare you. Just think, what couldthe Browning-Wagner circle do? Besides, what could we do with you whenwe were all working, for I can quite see that there is no use going toCanada unless you mean to work?"

"You've got it, Miss Brodie, " said Martin. "My lecture is not in vain. There is no use going to Canada unless you mean to work and to stay withthe job till the cows come home. "

"Till the cows come--?" gasped "Lily. "

"Oh, never mind him, Mr. Martin! Come, 'Lily' dear, I'll explain it toyou on the way home. Good-night, Mr. Dunn; we've had a jolly evening. And as for our friend Cameron, I've ceased to pity him; on the contrary, I envy him his luck. "

CHAPTER VII

FAREWELL TO CUAGH OIR

Once more the golden light of a sunny spring day was shining on thesapphire loch at the bottom, and overflowing at the rim of the CuaghOir. But for all its flowing gold, there was grief in the Glen--griefdeep and silent, like the quiet waters of the little loch. It was seenin the grave faces of the men who gathered at the "smiddy. " It was heardin the cadence of the voices of the women as they gathered to "kalie"(Ceilidh) in the little cottages that fringed the loch's side, or dottedthe heather-clad slopes. It even checked the boisterous play of thebairns as they came in from school. It lay like a cloud on the Cuagh, and heavy on the hearts that made up the little hill-girt community ofone hundred souls, or more. 

And the grief was this, that on the "morrow's morn" Mary Robertson's sonwas departing from the Glen "neffer to return for effermore, " as Donaldof the House farm put it, with a face gloomy as the loch on a darkwinter's day. 

"A leaving" was ever an occasion of wailing to the Glen, and many aleaving had the Glen known during the last fifty years. For whereverthe tartan waved, and the bonnie feathers danced for the glory of theEmpire, sons of the Glen were ever to be found; but not for fifty yearshad the heart of the Glen known the luxury of a single rallying centrefor their pride and their love till the "young chentleman, " young Mr. Allan, began to go in and out among them. And as he grew into manhood sogrew their pride in him. And as, from time to time, at the Great Gameshe began to win glory for the Glen with his feats of skill and strength, and upon the pipes, and in the dances, their pride in him grew untilit passed all limits. Had he not, the very year before he went to thecollege, cut the comb of the "Cock of the North" from Glen Urquhart, in running and jumping; and the very same year had he not wrestedfrom Callum Bheg, the pride of Athole, the coveted badge of SpecialDistinction in Highland Dancing? Then later, when the schoolmaster wouldread from the Inverness Courier to one group after another at the postoffice and at the "smiddy" (it was only fear of the elder MacPherson, that kept the master from reading it aloud at the kirk door before theservice) accounts of the "remarkable playing" of Cameron, the brilliantyoung "half-back" of the Academy in Edinburgh, the Glen settled downinto an assured conviction that it had reached the pinnacle of vicariousglory, and that in all Scotland there was none to compare with theiryoung "chieftain" as, quite ignoring the Captain, they loved to callhim. 

And there was more than pride in him, for on his holidays he came backto the Glen unspoiled by all his honours and achievements, and wentabout among them "jist like ain o' their ain sels, " accepting theirhomage as his right, but giving them in return, according to theirvarious stations, due respect and honour, and their love grew greaterthan their pride. 

But the "morrow's morn" he was leaving the Glen, and, worse than all, noone knew for why. A mystery hung over the cause of his going, a mysterydeepened by his own bearing during the past twelve months, for all thesemonths a heavy gloom had shrouded him, and from all that had once beenhis delight and their glory he had withdrawn. The challenge, indeed, from the men of Glen Urquhart which he had accepted long ago, he refusednot, but even the overwhelming defeat which he had administered to hishaughty challengers, had apparently brought him no more than a passinggleam of joy. The gloom remained unlifted and the cause the Glen knewnot, and no man of them would seek to know. Hence the grief of theGlen was no common grief when the son of Mary Robertson, the son of theHouse, the pride of the Glen, and the comrade and friend of them all, was about to depart and never to return. 

His last day in the Glen Allan spent making his painful way throughthe cottages, leaving his farewell, and with each some slight gift ofremembrance. It was for him, indeed, a pilgrimage of woe. It was notonly that his heart roots were in the Glen and knit round every stickand stone of it; it was not that he felt he was leaving behind him alove and loyalty as deep and lasting as life itself. It was that intearing himself from them he could make no response to the dumb appealin the eyes that followed him with adoration and fidelity: "Whereforedo you leave us at all?" and "Why do you make no promise of return?" Tothat dumb appeal there was no answer possible from one who carried onhis heart for himself, and on his life for some few others, and amongthese his own father, the terrible brand of the criminal. It was thisgrim fact that stained black the whole landscape of his consciousness, and that hung like a pall of death over every living and delightsomething in the garden of his soul. While none could, without challenge, condemn him, yet his own tongue refused to proclaim his innocence. Every face he loved drove deeper into his heart his pain. The deathlessloyalty and unbounded pride of the Glen folk rebuked him, without theirknowing, for the dishonour he had done them. The Glen itself, the hills, the purpling heather, the gleaming loch, how dear to him he had neverknown till now, threw in his face a sad and silent reproach. Smallwonder that the Glen, that Scotland had become intolerable to him. Withthis bitter burden on his heart it was that young Mr. Allan went his waythrough the Glen making his farewells, not daring to indulge the luxuryof his grief, and with never a word of return. 

His sister, who knew all, and who would have carried--oh! howgladly!--on her own heart, and for all her life long, that bitterburden, pleaded to be allowed to go with him on what she knew full wellwas a journey of sorrow and sore pain, but this he would not permit. This sorrow and pain which were his own, he would share with no one, and least of all with her upon whose life he had already cast so darka shadow. Hence she was at the house alone, her father not having yetreturned from an important meeting at a neighbouring village, when ayoung man came to the door asking for young Mr. Cameron. 

"Who is it, Kirsty?" she inquired anxiously, a new fear at her heart forher brother. 

"I know not, but he has neffer been in this Glen before whateffer, "replied Kirsty, with an ominous shake of the head, her primitiveinstincts leading her to view the stranger with suspicion. "But!" sheadded, with a glance at her young mistress' face, "he iss no man to beafraid of, at any rate. He is just a laddie. "

"Oh, he is a YOUNG man, Kirsty?" replied her mistress, glancing at herblue serge gown, her second best, and with her hands striving to tuck insome of her wayward curls. 

"Och, yess, and not much at that!" replied Kirsty, with the idea ofrelieving her young mistress of unnecessary fears. 

Then Moira, putting on her grand air, stepped into the parlour, and sawstanding there and awaiting her, a young man with a thin and somewhathard face, a firm mouth, and extraordinarily keen, grey eyes. Upon herappearing the young man stood looking upon her without a word. As amatter of fact, he was struggling with a problem; a problem that wasquite bewildering; the problem, namely, "How could hair ever manageto get itself into such an arrangement of waves and curls, and goldengleams and twinkles?" Struggling with this problem, he became consciousof her voice gravely questioning him. "You were wishing to see mybrother?" The young man came back part way, and replied, "Oh! how doesit--? That is--. I beg your pardon. " The surprise in her face broughthim quite to the ground, and he came at once to his business. "I am Mr. Martin, " he said in a quick, sharp voice. "I know your brother and Mr. Dunn. " He noted a light dawn in her eyes. "In fact, I played with themon the same team--at football, you know. "

"Oh!" cried the girl, relief and welcome in her voice, "I know you, Mr. Martin, quite well. I know all about you, and what a splendidquarter-back you are. " Here she gave him both her hands, which Mr. Martin took in a kind of dream, once more plunged into the mazes ofanother and more perplexing problem, viz. , Was it her lips with thatdelicious curve to them? or her eyes so sunny and brown (or were theybrown?) with that alluring, bewitching twinkle? or was it both lips andeyes that gave to the smile with which she welcomed him its subtle powerto make his heart rise and choke him as it never had been known to do inthe most strenuous of his matches? "I'm awfully glad, " he heard himselfsay, and her voice replying, "Oh, yes! Allan has often and often spokenof you, Mr. Martin. " Mr. Martin immediately became conscious of aprofound and grateful affection to Allan, still struggling, however, with the problem which had been complicated still further by the charmof her soft, Highland voice. He was on the point of deciding in favourof her voice, when on her face he noted a swift change from glad welcometo suspicion and fear, and then into her sunny eyes a sudden leaping offierce wrath, as in those of a lioness defending her young. 

"Why do you look so?" she cried in a voice sharp and imperious. "Is itmy brother--? Is anything wrong?"

The shock of the change in eyes and voice brought Martin quite tohimself. 

"Wrong? Not a bit, " he hastened to say, "but just the finest thing inthe world. It is all here in this letter. Dunn could not come himself, and there was no one else, and he thought Cameron ought to have itto-day, so here I am, and here is the letter. Where is he?"

"Oh!" cried the girl, clasping her hands upon her heart, her voicegrowing soft, and her eyes dim with a sudden mist. "I am so thankful!I am so glad!" The change in her voice and in her eyes so affected Mr. Martin that he put his hands resolutely behind his back lest they shouldplay him tricks, and should, without his will, get themselves round herand draw her close to his heart. 

"So am I, " he said, "awfully glad! Never was so glad in all my life!" Hewas more conscious than ever of bewilderment and perplexity in the midstof increasing problems that complicated themselves with mist brown eyes, trembling lips, and a voice of such pathetic cadences as aroused inhim an almost uncontrollable desire to exercise his utmost powers ofcomfort. And all the while there was growing in his heart a desperateanxiety as to what would be the final issue of these bewildering desiresand perplexities; when at the extremity of his self-control he was savedby the girl's suggestion. 

"Let us go and find my brother. "

"Oh, yes!" cried Martin, "for heaven's sake let us. "

"Wait until I get my hat. "

"Oh! I wouldn't put on a hat, " cried he in dismay. 

"Why?" enquired the girl, looking at him with surprised curiosity. 

"Oh! because--because you don't need one; it's so beautiful and sunny, you know. " In spite of what he could do Mr. Martin's eyes kept wanderingto her hair. 

"Oh, well!" cried Moira, in increasing surprise at this strange youngman, "the sun won't hurt me, so come, let us go. "

Together they went down the avenue of rugged firs. At the highwayshe paused. Before them lay the Glen in all the splendid sweep of itsbeauty. 

"Isn't it lovely!" she breathed. 

"Lovely!" echoed Martin, his eyes not on the Glen. "It is so sunny, youknow. "

"Yes, " she answered quickly, "you notice that?"

"How could I help it?" said Martin, his eyes still resting upon her. "How could I?"

"Of course, " she replied, "and so we call it the Glen Cuagh Oir, thatis the 'Glen of the Cup of Gold. ' And to think he has to leave it allto-morrow!" she added. 

The pathetic cadences in her voice again drove Martin to despair. Herecovered himself, however, to say, "But he is going to Canada!"

"Yes, to Canada. And we all feel it so dreadfully for him, and, " sheadded in a lower voice, "for ourselves. "

Had it been yesterday Martin would have been ready with scorn for anysuch feeling, and with congratulations to Cameron upon his exceptionallygood luck in the expectation of going to Canada; but to-day, somehow itwas different. He found the splendid lure of his native land availed notto break the spell of the Glen, and as he followed the girl in and outof the little cottages, seeking her brother, and as he noted the perfectcourtesy and respect which marked her manner with the people, and theirunstudied and respectful devotion to their "tear young leddy, " thisspell deepened upon him. Unconsciously and dimly he became aware of amysterious and mighty power somehow and somewhere in the Glen strainingat the heart-strings of its children. Of the nature and origin of thismysterious and mighty power, the young Canadian knew little. Hiscountry was of too recent an origin for mystery, and its people tooheterogeneous in their ethnic characteristics to furnish a soil fortribal instincts and passions. The passionate loves and hatreds of theclans, their pride of race, their deathless lealty; and more than all, and better than all, their religious instincts, faiths and prejudices;these, with the mystic, wild loveliness of heather-clad hill androck-rimmed loch, of roaring torrent and jagged crags, of lonely muirand sunny pasture nuiks; all these, and ten thousand nameless andunnamable things united in the weaving of the spell of the Glen upon thehearts of its people. Of how it all came to be, Martin knew nothing, but like an atmosphere it stole in upon him, and he came to vaguelyunderstand something of what it meant to be a Highlander, and to bidfarewell to the land into whose grim soil his life roots had struckdeep, and to tear himself from hearts whose life stream and his hadflowed as one for a score of generations. So from cot to cot Martinfollowed and observed, until they came to the crossing where the broadpath led up from the highroad to the kirkyard and the kirk. Here theywere halted by a young man somewhat older than Martin. Tall and gaunthe stood. His face, pale and pock-marked and lit by light blue eyes, andcrowned by brilliant red hair, was, with all its unloveliness, a face ofa certain rugged beauty; while his manner and bearing showed the nativecourtesy of a Highland gentleman. 

"You are seeking Mr. Allan?" he said, taking off his bonnet to the girl. "He is in yonder, " waving his hand towards the kirkyard. 

"In yonder? You are sure, Mr. Maclise?" She might well ask, for neverbut on Sabbath days, since the day they had laid his mother away underthe birch trees, had Allan put foot inside the kirkyard. 

"Half an hour ago he went in, " replied the young Highlander, "and he hasnot returned. "

"I will go in, then, " said the girl, and hesitated, unwilling that astranger's eyes should witness what she knew was waiting her there. 

"You, Sir, will perhaps abide with me, " suggested Mr. Maclise to Martin, with a quick understanding of her hesitation. 

"Oh, thank you, " cried Moira. "This is Mr. Martin from Canada, Mr. Maclise--my brother's great friend. Mr. Maclise is our schoolmasterhere, " she added, turning to Martin, "and we are very proud of him. "The Highlander's pale face became the colour of his brilliant hair as heremarked, "You are very good indeed, Miss Cameron, and I am glad to makethe acquaintance of Mr. Martin. It will give me great pleasure to showMr. Martin the little falls at the loch's end, if he cares to step thatfar. " If Mr. Martin was conscious of any great desire to view the littlefalls at the loch's end, his face most successfully dissembled any suchfeeling, but to the little falls he must go as the schoolmaster quietlypossessed himself of him and led him away, while Miss Cameron, withnever a thought of either of them, passed up the broad path into thekirkyard. There, at the tower's foot, she came upon her brother, proneupon the little grassy mound, with arms outspread, as if to hold it inembrace. At the sound of his sister's tread upon the gravel, he raisedhimself to his knees swiftly, and with a fierce gesture, as if resentingintrusion. 

"Oh, it is you, Moira, " he said quietly, sinking down upon the grass. Atthe sight of his tear-stained, haggard face, the girl ran to him witha cry, and throwing herself down beside him put her arms about him withinarticulate sounds of pity. At length her brother raised himself fromthe ground. 

"Oh, it is terrible to leave it all, " he groaned; "yet I am glad toleave, for it is more terrible to stay; the very Glen I cannot look at;and the people, I cannot bear their eyes. Oh, " he groaned, wringing hishands, "if she were here she would understand, but there is nobody. "

"Oh, Allan, " cried his sister in reproach. 

"Oh, yes, I know! I know! You believe in me, Moira, but you are just alassie, and you cannot understand. "

"Yes, you know well I believe in you, Allan, and others, too, believe inyou. There is Mr. Dunn, and--"

"Oh, I don't know, " said her brother bitterly, "he wants to believe it. "

"Yes, and there is Mr. Martin, " she continued, "and--Oh, I forgot! hereis a letter Mr. Martin brought you. "

"Martin?"

"Yes, your Martin, a strange little man; your quarter-back, you know. Hebrought this, and he says it is good news. " But already Allan was intohis letter. As he read his face grew white, his hand began to shake, hiseyes to stare as if they would devour the very paper. The second time heread the letter his whole body trembled, and his breath came in gasps, as if he were in a physical struggle. Then lifting arms and voicetowards the sky, he cried in a long, low wail, "Oh God, it is good, itis good!"

With that he laid himself down prone upon the mound again, his face inthe grass, sobbing brokenly, "Oh, mother, mother dear, I have got youonce more; I have got you once more!"

His sister stood, her hands clasped upon her heart--a manner shehad--her tears, unnoted, flowing down her cheeks, waiting till herbrother should let her into his joy, as she had waited for entrance intohis grief. His griefs and his joys were hers, and though he stillheld her a mere child, it was with a woman's self-forgetting love sheministered to him, gladly accepting whatever confidence he would give, but content to wait until he should give more. So she stood waiting, with her tears flowing quietly, and her face alight with wonder and joyfor him. But as her brother's sobbing continued, this terrible displayof emotion amazed her, startled her, for since their mother's death noneof them had seen Allan weep. At length he raised himself from the groundand stood beside her. 

"Oh, Moira, lassie, I never knew how terrible it was till now. I hadlost everything, my friends, you, and, " he added in a low voice, "mymother. This cursed thing shut me out from all; it got between me andall I ever loved. I have not for these months been able to see her faceclear, but do you know, Moira, " here his voice fell and the mystic lightgrew in his eyes, "I saw her again just now as clear as clear, andI know I have got her again; and you, too, Moira, darling, " here hegathered his sister to him, "and the people! and the Glen! Oh! is it notterrible what a crime can do? How it separates you from your folk, andfrom all the world, for, mind you, I have felt myself a criminal; but Iam not! I am not!" His voice rose into an exultant shout, "I am clear ofit, I am a man again! Oh, it is good! it is good! Here, read the letter, it will prove to you. "

"Oh, what does it matter at all, Allan, " she cried, still clinging tohim, "as if it made any difference to me. I always knew it. "

Her brother lifted her face from his breast and looked into her eyes. "Do you tell me you don't want to know the proof of it?" he asked inwonder. "No, " she said simply. "Why should I need any proof? I alwaysknew it. "

For a moment longer he gazed upon her, then said, "Moira, you are awonder, lassie. No, you are a lassie no longer, you are a woman, and, doyou know, you are like mother to me now, and I never saw it. "

She smiled up at him through her tears. "I should like to be, " she saidsoftly. Then, because she was truly Scotch, she added, "for your sake, for I love you terribly much; and I am going to lose you. "

A quiver passed through her frame, and her arms gripped him tight. Inthe self-absorption in his grief and pain he had not thought of hers, nor considered how with his going her whole life would be changed. 

"I have been a selfish brute, " he muttered. "I have only thought of myown suffering; but, listen Moira, it is all past; thank God, it isall past. This letter from Mr. Rae holds a confession from Potts (poorPotts! I am glad that Rae let him off): it was Potts who committed theforgery. Now I feel myself clean again; you can't know what that is; tobe yourself again, and to be able to look all men in the face withoutfear or shame. Come, we must go; I must see them all again. Let us tothe burn first, and put my face right. "

A moment he stood looking down upon his mother's grave. The hideousthing that had put her far from him, and that had blurred the clearvision of her face, was gone. A smile soft and tender as a child's stoleover his face, and with that smile he turned away. As they werecoming back from the burn, Martin and the schoolmaster saw them in thedistance. 

"Bless me, man, will you look at him?" said the master in an awestrucktone, clutching Martin's arm. "What ever is come to him?"

"What's up, " cried Martin. "By Jove! you're right! the Roderick Dhu andBlack Douglas business is gone, sure!"

"God bless my soul!" said Maclise in an undertone. "He is himself oncemore. "

He might well exclaim, for it was a new Allan that came striding upthe high road, with head lifted, and with the proud swing of a Highlandchieftain. 

"Hello, old man!" he shouted, catching sight of Martin and runningtowards him with hands outstretched, "You are welcome"--he graspedhis hands and held them fast--"you are welcome to this Glen, and to mewelcome as Heaven to a Hell-bound soul. "

"Maclise, " he cried, turning to the master, "this letter, " waving it inhis hand, "is like a reprieve to a man on the scaffold. " Maclise stoodgazing in amazement at him. 

"They accused me of crime!"

"Of crime, Mr. Allan?" Maclise stiffened in haughty surprise. 

"Yes, of base crime!"

"But this letter completely clears him, " cried Martin eagerly. 

Maclise turned upon him with swift scorn, "There was no need, for anyonein this Glen whatever. " The Highlander's face was pale, and in his lightblue eyes gleamed a fierce light. 

Martin flashed a look upon the girl standing so proudly erect besideher brother, and reflecting in her face and eyes the sentiments of theschoolmaster. 

"By Jove! I believe you, " cried Martin with conviction, "it is notneeded here, but--but there are others, you know. "

"Others?" said the Highlander with fine scorn, "and what difference?"

The Glen folk needed no clearing of their chief, and the rest of theworld mattered not. 

"But there was myself, " said Allan. "Now it is gone, Maclise, and I cangive my hand once more without fear or shame. "

Maclise took the offered hand almost with reverence, and, removing hisbonnet from his head, said in a voice, deep and vibrating with emotion, "Neffer will a man of the Glen count it anything but honour to takethiss hand. "

"Thank you, Maclise, " cried Allan, keeping his grip of the master'shand. "Now you can tell the Glen. "

"You will not be going to leave us now?" said Maclise eagerly. 

"Yes, I shall go, Maclise, but, " with a proud lift of his head, "tellthem I am coming back again. "

And with that message Maclise went to the Glen. From cot to cot and fromlip to lip the message sped, that Mr. Allan was himself again, and that, though on the morrow's morn he was leaving the Glen, he himself hadpromised that he would return. 

That evening, as the gloaming deepened, the people of the Glen gathered, as was their wont, at their cottage doors to listen to old piperMacpherson as he marched up and down the highroad. This night, it wasobserved, he no longer played that most heart-breaking of allScottish laments, "Lochaber No More. " He had passed up to the no lessheart-thrilling, but less heartbreaking, "Macrimmon's Lament. " In apause in Macpherson's wailing notes there floated down over the Glen thesound of the pipes up at the big House. 

"Bless my soul! whisht, man!" cried Betsy Macpherson to her spouse. "Listen yonder!" For the first time in months they heard the sound ofAllan's pipes. 

"It is himself, " whispered the women to each other, and waited. Down thelong avenue of ragged firs, and down the highroad, came young Mr. Allan, in all the gallant splendour of his piper's garb, and the tune he playedwas no lament, but the blood-stirring "Gathering of the Gordons. " Ashe came opposite to Macpherson's cottage he gave the signal for the oldpiper, and down the highroad stepped the two of them together, till theypassed beyond the farthest cottage. Then back again they swung, and thistime it was to the "Cock of the North, " that their tartans swayed andtheir bonnets nodded. Thus, not with woe and lamentation, but with goodhope and gallant cheer, young Mr. Allan took his leave of the Glen CuaghOir. 

CHAPTER VIII

WILL HE COME BACK?

It was the custom in Doctor Dunn's household that, immediately afterdinner, his youngest son would spend half an hour in the study with hisfather. It was a time for confidences. During this half hour father andson met as nearly as possible on equal terms, discussing, as friendsmight, the events of the day or the plans for the morrow, school workor athletics, the latest book or the newest joke; and sometimes the talkturned upon the reading at evening prayers. This night the story hadbeen one of rare beauty and of absorbing interest, the story, viz. , ofthat idyllic scene on the shore of Tiberias where the erring disciplewas fully restored to his place in the ranks of the faithful, as he hadbeen restored, some weeks before, to his place in the confidence of hisMaster. 

"That was a fine story, Rob?" began Doctor Dunn. 

"That it was, " said Rob gravely. "It was fine for Peter to get backagain. "

"Just so, " replied his father. "You see, when a man once turns his backon his best Friend, he is never right till he gets back again. "

"Yes, I know, " said Rob gravely. For a time he sat with a shadow ofsadness and anxiety on his young face. "It is terrible!" he exclaimed. 

"Terrible?" inquired the Doctor. "Oh, yes, you mean Peter's fall? Yes, that was a terrible thing--to be untrue to our Master and faithless toour best Friend. "

"But he did not mean to, Dad, " said Rob quickly, as if springing tothe fallen disciple's defence. "He forgot, just for a moment, and wasawfully sorry afterwards. "

"Yes, truly, " said his father, "and that was the first step back. "

For a few moments Rob remained silent, his face sad and troubled. 

"Man! It must be terrible!" at length he said, more to himself thanto his father. The Doctor looked closely at the little lad. The eager, sensitive face, usually so radiant, was now clouded and sad. 

"What is it, Rob? Is it something you can tell me?" asked his father ina tone of friendly kindness. 

Rob moved closer to him. The father waited in silence. He knew betterthan to force an unwilling confidence. At length the lad, with anobvious effort at self-command, said:

"It is to-morrow, Daddy, that Cameron--that Mr. Cameron is going away. "

"To-morrow? So it is. And you will be very sorry, Rob. But, of course, he will come back. "

"Oh, Dad, " cried Rob, coming quite close to his father, "it isn't that!It isn't that!"

His father waited. He did not understand his boy's trouble, and so hewisely refrained from uttering word that might hinder rather than help. At length, with a sudden effort, Rob asked in a low, hurried voice:

"Do you think, Dad, he has--got--back?"

"Got back?" said his father. "Oh, I see. Why, my boy? What do you knowof it? Did you know there was a letter from a man named Potts, thatcompletely clears your friend of all crime?"

"Is there?" asked the boy quickly. "Man! That is fine! But I always knewhe could not do anything really bad--I mean, anything that the policecould touch him for. But it is not that, Dad. I have heard Jack say heused to be different when he came down first, and now sometimes he--"The lad's voice fell silent. He could not bring himself to accuse hishero of any evil. His father drew him close to his side. 

"You mean that he has fallen into bad ways--drink, and things likethat?"

The boy hung his head; he was keenly ashamed for his friend. After a fewmoments' silence he said:

"And he is going away to Canada to-morrow, and I wonder, Dad, if hehas--got--back? It would be terrible--Oh, Dad, all alone and awayfrom--!"

The boy's voice sank to a whisper, and a rush of tears filled his eyes. 

"I see what you mean, my boy. You mean it would be terrible for him tobe in that far land, and away from that Friend we know and love best. "

The lad looked at his father through his tears, and nodded his head, andfor some moments there was silence between them. If the truth must betold, Doctor Dunn felt himself keenly rebuked by his little son's words. Amid the multitude of his responsibilities, the responsibility for hissons' best friend he had hardly realised. 

"I am glad that you spoke of it, Rob; I am glad that you spoke of it. Something will be done. It is not, after all, in our hands. Still, wemust stand ready to help. Good-night, my boy. And remember, it is alwaysgood to hurry back to our best Friend, if ever we get away from Him. "

The boy put his arms around his father's neck and kissed him good-night;then, kissing him again, he whispered: "Thank you, Daddy. "

And from the relief in his tone the father recognised that upon him thelad had laid all the burden of his solicitude for his friend. 

Later in the evening, when his elder son came home, the father calledhim in, and frankly gave him the substance of the conversation of theearlier part of the evening. 

Jack laughed somewhat uneasily. "Oh, Rob is an awfully religious littlebeggar; painfully so, I think, sometimes--you know what I mean, Sir, " headded, noticing the look on his father's face. 

"I am not sure that I do, Jack, " said his father, "but I want to tellyou, that as far as I am concerned, I felt distinctly rebuked at thelittle chap's anxiety for his friend in a matter of such vital import. His is a truly religious little soul, as you say, but I wonder if histype is not more nearly like the normal than is ours. Certainly, ifreality, simplicity, sincerity are the qualities of true religiousfeeling--and these, I believe, are the qualities emphasised by theMaster Himself--then it may indeed be that the boy's type is nearer theideal than ours. "

At this point Mrs. Dunn entered the room. 

"Anything private?" she enquired with a bright smile at her husband. 

"Not at all! Come in!" said Doctor Dunn, and he proceeded to repeat theconversation with his younger son, and his own recent comment thereupon. 

"I am convinced, " he added, "that there is a profundity of meaning inthose words, 'Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a littlechild, he shall not enter therein, ' that we have not yet fathomed. Isuspect Wordsworth is not far astray when he suggests that with thepassing years we grow away from the simplicity of our faith and theclearness of our vision. There is no doubt that to Rob, Jesus is as realas I am. "

"There is no doubt of that, " said his wife quickly. 

"Not only as real, but quite as dear; indeed, dearer. I shall neverforget the shock I received when I heard him one day, as a wee, wee boy, classifying the objects of his affection. I remember the ascending scalewas: 'I love Jack and Daddy just the same, then mother, then Jesus. ' Itwas always in the highest place, Jesus; and I believe that the scale isthe same to-day, unless Jack, " she added, with a smile at her son, "hasmoved to his mother's place. "

"Not much fear of that, mother, " said Jack, "but I should not besurprised if you are quite right about the little chap. He is a queerlittle beggar!"

"There you are again, Jack, " said his father, "and it is upon that pointI was inclined to take issue with you when your mother entered. "

"I think I shall leave you, " said the mother. "I am rather tired, and soI shall bid you good-night. "

"Yes, " said the father, when they had seated themselves again, "thevery fact that to you, and to me for that matter, Rob's attitude ofmind should seem peculiar raises the issue. What is the normal type ofChristian faith? Is it not marked by the simplicity and completeness ofthe child's?"

"And yet, Sir, " replied Jack, "that simplicity and completeness is theresult of inexperience. Surely the ideal faith is not that which ignoresthe facts and experiences of life?"

"Not exactly, " replied his father, "yet I am not sure but after all, 'the perfect love which casteth out fear' is one which ignores theexperiences of life, or, rather, classifies them in a larger category. That is, it refuses to be disturbed by life's experiences, because amongthose experiences there is a place for the enlarged horizon, the clearervision. But I am not arguing about this matter; I rather wish to makea confession and enlist your aid. Frankly, the boy's words gave me anuneasy sense of failure in my duty to this young man; or, perhaps Ishould say, my privilege. And really, it is no wonder! Here is thislittle chap actually carrying every day a load of intense concern forour friend, as to whether, as he puts it himself, 'he has come back. 'And, after all, Jack, I wonder if this should not have been more uponour minds? The young man, I take it, since his mother's death has littlein his home life to inspire him with religious faith and feeling. If shehad been alive, one would not feel the same responsibility; she was asingularly saintly woman. "

"You are quite right, Sir, " said Jack quickly, "and I suspect you rathermean that I am the one that should feel condemned. "

"Not at all! Not at all, Jack! I am thinking, as every man must, of myown responsibility, though, doubtless, you have yours as well. Of courseI know quite well you have stuck by him splendidly in his fight for aclean and self-controlled life, but one wonders whether there is notsomething more. "

"There is, Sir!" replied his son quickly. "There undoubtedly is! Butthough I have no hesitation in speaking to men down in the Settlementabout these things, you know, still, somehow, to a man of your ownclass, and to a personal friend, one hesitates. One shrinks from whatseems like assuming an attitude of superiority. "

"I appreciate that, " said his father, "but yet one wonders to whatextent this shrinking is due to a real sense of one's own imperfections, and to what extent it is due to an unwillingness to risk criticism, evenfrom ourselves, in a loyal attempt to serve the Master and His cause. And, besides that, one wonders whether from any cause one shouldhesitate to do the truly kind and Christian thing to one's friend. Imean, you value your religion; or, to put it personally, as Rob would, you would esteem as your chief possession your knowledge of the Christ, as Friend and Saviour. Do not loyalty to Him and friendship require thatyou share that possession with your dearest friend?"

"I know what you mean, Sir, " said Jack earnestly. "I shall think itover. But don't you think a word from you, Sir--"

His father looked at his son with a curious smile. 

"Oh, I know what you are thinking, " said his son, "but I assure you itis not quite a case of funk. "

"Do you know, Jack, " said his father earnestly, "we make our religionfar too unreal; a thing either of forms remote from life, or a thing ofindividualistic emotion divorced from responsibility. One thinghistory reveals, that the early propagandum for the faith was entirelyunprofessional. It was from friend to friend, from man to man. It washorizontal rather than perpendicular. "

"Well, I shall think it over, " said Jack. 

"Do you know, " said his father, "that I have the feeling of havingaccepted from Rob responsibility for our utmost endeavour to bring itabout that, as Rob puts it, 'somehow he shall get back'?"

It was full twenty minutes before train time when Rob, torn with anxietylest they should be late, marched his brother on to the railway platformto wait for the Camerons, who were to arrive from the North. Up anddown they paraded, Dunn turning over in his mind the conversation of thenight before, Rob breaking away every three minutes to consult the clockand the booking clerk at the wicket. 

"Will he come to us this afternoon, Jack, do you think?" enquired theboy. 

"Don't know! He turned down a football lunch! He has his sister and hisfather with him. "

"His sister could come with him!" argued the boy. 

"What about his father?"

Rob had been close enough to events to know that the Captain constitutedsomething of a difficulty in the situation. 

"Well, won't he have business to attend to?"

His brother laughed. "Good idea, Rob, let us hope so! At any rate wewill do our best to get Cameron and his sister to come to us. We wantthem, don't we?"

"We do that!" said the boy fervently; "only I'm sure something willhappen! There, " he exclaimed a moment later, in a tone of disappointmentand disgust, "I just knew it! There is Miss Brodie and some one else;they will get after him, I know!"

"So it is, " said Dunn, with a not altogether successful attempt atsurprise. 

"Aw! you knew!" said Rob reproachfully. 

"Well! I kind of thought she might turn up!" said his brother, withan air of a convicted criminal. "You know she is quite a friend ofCameron's. But what is Sir Archibald here for?"

"They will just get him, I know, " said Rob gloomily, as he followed hisbrother to meet Miss Brodie and her uncle. 

"We're here!" cried that young lady, "to join in the demonstration tothe hero! And, my uncle being somewhat conscience-stricken over histardy and unwilling acceptance of our superior judgment in the recentfamous case, has come to make such reparation as he can. "

"What a piece of impertinence! Don't listen to her, Sir!" criedSir Archibald, greeting Dunn warmly and with the respect due anInternational captain. "The truth is I have a letter here for him to abusiness friend in Montreal, which may be of service. Of course, I maysay to you that I am more than delighted that this letter of Potts hasquite cleared the young man, and that he goes to the new country withreputation unstained. I am greatly delighted! greatly delighted! and Iwish the opportunity to say so. "

"Indeed, we are all delighted, " replied Dunn cordially, "though, ofcourse, I never could bring myself to believe him guilty of crime. "

"Well, on the strength of the judgment of yourself and, I must confess, of this young person here, I made my decision. "

"Well, " cried Miss Brodie, "I gave you my opinion because it was myopinion, but I confess at times I had my own doubts--"

Here she paused abruptly, arrested by the look on young Rob's face; itwas a look of surprise, grief, and horror. 

"That is to say, " continued Miss Brodie hastily, answering the look, andrecognising that her high place in Rob's regard was in peril, "the wholething was a mystery--was impossible to solve--I mean, " she continued, stumbling along, "his own attitude was so very uncertain and sounsatisfactory--if he had only been able to say clearly 'I am notguilty' it would have been different--I mean--of course, I don't believehim guilty. Don't look at me like that, Rob! I won't have it! But was itnot clever of that dear Mr. Rae to extract that letter from the wretchedPotts?"

"There's the train!" cried Dunn. "Here, Rob, you stay here with me!Where has the young rascal gone!"

"Look! Oh, look!" cried Miss Brodie, clutching at Dunn's arm, her eyeswide with terror. There before their horrified eyes was young Rob, hanging on to the window, out of which his friend Cameron was leaning, and racing madly with the swiftly moving train, in momentary danger ofbeing dragged under its wheels. With a cry, Dunn rushed forward. 

"Merciful heavens!" cried Miss Brodie. "Oh! he is gone!"

A porter, standing with his back towards the racing boy, had knockedhis feet from under him. But as he fell, a strong hand grabbed him, anddragged him to safety through the window. 

Pale and shaking, the three friends waited for the car door to beopened, and as Rob issued in triumphant possession of his friend, MissBrodie rushed at him and, seizing him in her strong grasp, cried:

"You heartless young rascal! You nearly killed me--not to speak ofyourself! Here, " she continued, throwing her arms about him, and givinghim a loud smack, "take that for your punishment! Do you hear, younearly killed me! I had a vision of your mangled form ground up betweenthe wheels and the platform. Hold on, you can't get away from me! I havea mind to give you another!"

"Oh, Miss Brodie, please, " pleaded Cameron, coming forward to Rob'srescue, "I assure you I was partly to blame; it is only fair I shouldshare his punishment. "

"Indeed, " cried Miss Brodie, the blood coming back into her cheeks thathad been white enough a moment before, "if it were not for your size, and your--looks, I should treat you exactly the same, though notwith the same intent, as our friend Mr. Rae would say. You did thatsplendidly!"

"Alas! for my size, " groaned Cameron--he was in great spirits--"andalas! for my ugly phiz!"

"Who said 'ugly'?" replied Miss Brodie. "But I won't rise to your bait. May I introduce you to my uncle, Sir Archibald Brodie, who has a littlebusiness with you?"

"Ah! Mr. Cameron, " said that gentleman, "that was extremely welldone. Indeed, I can hardly get back my nerve--might have been an uglyaccident. By the way, Sir, " taking Cameron aside, "just a moment. Youare on your way to Canada? I have a letter which I thought might beof service to you. It is to a business friend of mine, a banker, inMontreal, Mr. James Ritchie. You will find him a good man to know, and Ifancy glad to serve any--ah--friend of mine. "

On hearing Sir Archibald's name, Cameron's manner became distinctlyhaughty, and he was on the point of declining the letter, when SirArchibald, who was quick to observe his manner, took him by the arm andled him somewhat further away. 

"Now, Sir, there is a little matter I wish to speak of, if you willpermit. Indeed, I came specially to say how delighted I am thatthe--ah--recent little unpleasantness has been removed. Of course youunderstand my responsibility to the Bank rendered a certain courseof action imperative, however repugnant. But, believe me, I am trulydelighted to find that my decision to withdraw the--ah--action has beenentirely justified by events. Delighted, Sir! Delighted! And much moresince I have seen you. "

Before the overflowing kindliness of Sir Archibald's voice and manner, Cameron's hauteur vanished like morning mist before the rising sun. 

"I thank you, Sir Archibald, " he said, with dignity, "not only for thisletter, but especially for your good opinion. "

"Very good! Very good! The letter will, I hope, be useful, " replied SirArchibald, "and as for my opinion, I am glad to find not only that it iswell founded, but that it appears to be shared by most of this companyhere. Now we must get back to your party. But let me say again, I amtruly glad to have come to know you. "

BOOK TWO

CHAPTER I

HO FOR THE OPEN!

Mr. James Ritchie, manager of the Bank of Montreal, glanced from theletter in his hand to the young man who had just given it to him. "Ah!you have just arrived from the old land, " he said, a smile of genialwelcome illuminating his handsome face. "I am pleased to hear from myold friend, Sir Archibald Brodie, and pleased to welcome any friend ofhis to Canada. "

So saying, with fine old-time courtesy, the banker rose to his splendidheight of six feet two, and shook his visitor warmly by the hand. 

"Your name is--?"

"Cameron, Sir, " said the young man. 

"Yes, I see! Mr. Allan Cameron--um, um, " with his eyes on the letter. "Old and distinguished family--exactly so! Now, then, Mr. Cameron, Ihope we shall be able to do something for you, both for the sake of myold friend, Sir Archibald, and, indeed, for your own sake, " said thebanker, with a glance of approval at Cameron's upright form. 

"Sit down, Sir! Sit down! Now, business first is my motto. What can I dofor you?"

"Well, first of all, " said Cameron with a laugh, "I wish to make adeposit. I have a draft of one hundred pounds here which I should liketo place in your care. "

"Very well, Sir, " said the banker, touching a button, "my young man willattend to that. "

"Now, then, " when the business had been transacted, "what are yourplans, Mr. Cameron? Thirty-five years ago I came to Montreal a youngman, from Scotland, like yourself, and it was a lonely day for me whenI reached this city, the loneliest in my life, and so my heart warmsto the stranger from the old land. Yes, " continued Mr. Ritchie, in areminiscent tone, "I remember well! I hired as errand boy and generalfactotum to a small grocer down near the market. Montreal was a smallcity then, with wretched streets--they're bad enough yet--and poorbuildings; everything was slow and backward; there have been mightychanges since. But here we are! Now, what are your plans?"

"I am afraid they are of the vaguest kind, " said Cameron. "I wantsomething to do. "

"What sort of thing? I mean, what has been the line of your training?"

"I am afraid my training has been defective. I have passed throughEdinburgh Academy, also the University, with the exception of my lastyear. But I am willing to take anything. "

"Ah!" said the banker thoughtfully. "No office training, eh?"

"No, Sir. That is, if you except a brief period of three or four monthsin the law office of our family solicitor. "

"Law, eh?--I have it! Denman's your man! I shall give you a letter toMr. Denman--a lawyer friend of mine. I shall see him personally to-day, and if you call to-morrow at ten I hope to have news for you. Meantime, I shall be pleased to have you lunch with me to-day at the club. Oneo'clock is the hour. If you would kindly call at the bank, we shall godown together. "

Cameron expressed his gratitude. 

"By the way!" said Mr. Ritchie, "where have you put up?"

"At the Royal, " said Cameron. 

"Ah! That will do for the present, " said Mr. Ritchie. "I am sorry ourcircumstances do not permit of my inviting you to our home. The truthis, Mrs. Ritchie is at present out of the city. But we shall find somesuitable lodging for you. The Royal is far too expensive a place for ayoung man with his fortune to make. "

Cameron spent the day making the acquaintance of the beautiful, quaint, if somewhat squalid, old city of Montreal; and next morning, witha letter of introduction from Mr. Ritchie, presented himself at Mr. Denman's office. Mr. Denman was a man in young middle life, athleticof frame, keen of eye, and energetic of manner; his voice was loudand sharp. He welcomed Cameron with brisk heartiness, and immediatelyproceeded to business. 

"Let me see, " he began, "what is your idea? What kind of a job are youafter?"

"Indeed, " replied Cameron, "that is just what I hardly know. "

"Well, what has been your experience? You are a University man, Ibelieve? But have you had any practical training? Do you know officework?"

"No, I've had little training for an office. I was in a law office forpart of a year. "

"Ah! Familiar with bookkeeping, or accounting? I suppose you can't runone of these typewriting machines?"

In regard to each of these lines of effort Cameron was forced to confessignorance. 

"I say!" cried Mr. Denman, "those old country people seriously annoy mewith their inadequate system of education!"

"I am afraid, " replied Cameron, "the fault is more mine than thesystem's. "

"Don't know about that! Don't know about that!" replied Mr. Denmanquickly; "I have had scores of young men, fine young men, too, come tome; public school men, university men, but quite unfit for any practicalline of work. "

Mr. Denman considered for some moments. "Let us see. You have done somework in a law office. Now, " Mr. Denman spoke with some hesitation; "Ihave a place in my own office here--not much in it for the present, but--"

"To tell the truth, " interrupted Cameron, "I did not make much of thelaw; in fact, I do not think I am suited for office work. I would prefersomething in the open. I had thought of the land. "

"Farming, " exclaimed Mr. Denman. "Ah!--you would, I suppose, be able toinvest something?"

"No, " said Cameron, "nothing. "

Denman shook his head. "Nothing in it! You would not earn enough to buya farm about here in fifteen years. "

"But I understood, " replied Cameron, "that further west was cheaperland. "

"Oh! In the far west, yes! But it is a God-forsaken country! I don'tknow much about it, I confess. I know they are booming town lots allover the land. I believe they have gone quite mad in the business, butfrom what I hear, the main work in the west just now is jaw work; theonly thing they raise is corner lots. "

On Cameron's face there fell the gloom of discouragement. One of hisfondest dreams was being dispelled--his vision of himself as a wealthyrancher, ranging over square miles of his estate upon a "buckingbroncho, " garbed in the picturesque cowboy dress, began to fade. 

"But there is ranching, I believe?" he ventured. 

"Ranching? Oh yes! There is, up near the Rockies, but that is out ofcivilization; out of reach of everything and everybody. "

"That is what I want, Sir!" exclaimed Cameron, his face once more aglowwith eager hope. "I want to get away into the open. "

Mr. Denman did not, or could not, recognise this as the instinctive cryof the primitive man for a closer fellowship with Mother Nature. He waskeenly practical, and impatient with everything that appeared to him tobe purely visionary and unbusiness-like. 

"But, my dear fellow, " he said, "a ranch means cattle and horses; andcattle and horses means money, unless of course, you mean to be simply acowboy--cowpuncher, I believe, is the correct term--but there is nothingin that; no future, I mean. It is all very well for a little fun, ifyou have a bank account to stand it, although some fellows stand it onsomeone's else bank account--not much to their credit, however. There isa young friend of mine out there at present, but from what I can gatherhis home correspondence is mainly confined to appeals for remittancesfrom his governor, and his chief occupation spending these remittancesas speedily as possible. All very well, as I have said, for fun, ifyou can pay the shot. But to play the role of gentleman cowboy, whilesomebody else pays for it, is the sort of thing I despise. "

"And so do I, Sir!" said Cameron. "There will be no remittance in mycase. "

Denman glanced at the firm, closed lips and the stiffening figure. 

"That is the talk!" he exclaimed. "No, there is no chance in ranchingunless you have capital. "

"As far as I can see, " replied Cameron gloomily, "everything seemsclosed up except to the capitalist, and yet from what I heard at homesituations were open on every hand in this country. "

"Come here!" cried Denman, drawing Cameron to the office window. "Seethose doors!" pointing to a long line of shops. "Every last one isopened to a man who knows his business. See those smokestacks! Everylast wheel in those factories is howling for a man who is on to his job. But don't look blue, there is a place for you, too; the thing is to findit. "

"What are those long buildings?" inquired Cameron, pointing towards thewater front. 

"Those are railroad sheds; or, rather, Transportation Company's sheds;they are practically the same thing. I say! What is the matter withtrying the Transportation Company? I know the manager well. The verything! Try the Transportation Company!"

"How should I go about it?" said Cameron. "I mean to say just whatposition should I apply for?"

"Position!" shouted Denman. "Why, general manager would be good!"

Then, noting the flush in Cameron's face, he added quickly, "Pardon me!The thing is to get your foot in somehow, and then wire in till you aregeneral manager, by Jove! It can be done! Fleming has done it! Went inas messenger boy, but--" Denman paused. There flashed through his mindthe story of Fleming's career; a vision of the half-starved ragged waifwho started as messenger boy in the company's offices, and who, by dintof invincible determination and resolute self-denial, fought his waystep by step to his present position of control. In contrast, he lookedat the young man, born and bred in circles where work is regarded asa calamity, and service wears the badge of social disfranchisement. Fleming had done it under compulsion of the inexorable mistress"Necessity. " But what of this young man?

"Will we try?" he said at length. "I shall give you a letter to Mr. Fleming. "

He sat down to his desk and wrote vigourously. 

"Take this, and see what happens. "

Cameron took the letter, and, glancing at the address, read, Wm. Fleming, Esquire, General Manager, Metropolitan Transportation & CartageCompany. 

"Is this a railroad?" asked Cameron. 

"No, but next thing to it. The companies are practically one. Thetransition from one to the other is easy enough. Let me know how you geton. Good-by! And--I say!" cried Mr. Denman, calling Cameron back againfrom the door, "see Mr. Fleming himself. Remember that! And remember, "he added, with a smile, "the position of manager is not vacant just yet, but it will be. I give you my word for it when you are ready to take it. Good-by! Buck up! Take what he offers you! Get your teeth in, and neverlet go!"

"By George!" said Denman to himself as the door closed on Cameron, "these chaps are the limit. He's got lots of stuff in him, but he hasbeen rendered helpless by their fool system--God save us from it! Thatchap has had things done for him ever since he was first bathed;they have washed 'em, dressed 'em, fed 'em, schooled 'em, found 'empositions, stuck 'em in, and watched that they didn't fall out. Andyet, by George!" he added, after a pause, "they are running theworld to-day--that is, some of them. " Facing which somewhat puzzlingphenomenon, Denman plunged into his work again. 

Meantime Cameron was making his way towards the offices of theMetropolitan Transportation & Cartage Company, oppressed with anunacknowledged but none the less real sense of unfitness, and hauntedby a depressing sense of the deficiency of his own training, and ofthe training afforded the young men of his class at home. As he startedalong he battled with his depression. True enough, he had no skillin the various accomplishments that Mr. Denman seemed to consideressential; he had no experience in business, he was not fit for officework--office work he loathed; but surely there was some position wherehis talents would bring him recognition and fortune at last. After all, Mr. Denman was only a Colonial, and with a Colonial's somewhat narrowview of life. Who was he to criticise the system of training that forgenerations had been in vogue at home? Had not Wellington said "thatEngland's battles were first won on the football fields of Eton andRugby, " or something like that? Of course, the training that might fitfor a distinguished career in the British army might not necessarilyinsure success on the battle fields of industry and commerce. Yetsurely, an International player should be able to get somewhere!

At this point in his cogitations Cameron was arrested by a memorythat stabbed him like a knife-thrust; the awful moment when upon theInverleith grounds, in the face of the Welsh forward-line, he hadfaltered and lost the International. Should he ever be able to forgetthe agony of that moment and of the day that followed? And yet, he neednot have failed. He knew he could play his position with any man inScotland; he had failed because he was not fit. He set his teeth hard. He would show these bally Colonials! He would make good! And with hishead high, he walked into the somewhat dingy offices of the MetropolitanTransportation & Cartage Company, of which William Fleming, Esquire, wasmanager. 

Opening the door, Cameron found himself confronted by a short counterthat blocked the way for the general public into the long room, filledwith desks and chairs and clicking typewriting machines. Cameron hadnever seen so many of these machines during the whole period of hislife. The typewriter began to assume an altogether new importance inhis mind. Hitherto it had appeared to him more or less of a Yankee fad, unworthy of the attention of an able-bodied man of average intelligence. In Edinburgh a "writing machine" was still something of a new-fangledluxury, to be apologised for. Mr. Rae would allow no such finickyinstrument in his office. Here, however, there were a dozen, more orless, manipulated for the most part by young ladies, and some of themactually by men; on every side they clicked and banged. It may havebeen the clicking and banging of these machines that gave to Cameron thesense of rush and hurry so different from the calm quiet and dignifiedrepose of the only office he had ever known. For some moments he stoodat the counter, waiting attention from one of the many clerks sittingbefore him, but though one and another occasionally glanced in hisdirection, his presence seemed to awaken not even a passing curiosity intheir minds, much less to suggest the propriety of their inquiring hisbusiness. 

As the moments passed Cameron became conscious of a feeling of affront. How differently a gentleman was treated by the clerks in the officeof Messrs. Rae & Macpherson, where prompt attention and deferentialcourtesy in a clerk were as essential as a suit of clothes. GraduallyCameron's head went up, and with it his choler. At length, in hishaughtiest tone, he hailed a passing youth:

"I say, boy, is this Mr. Fleming's office?"

The clicking and banging of the typewriters, and the hum of voicesceased. Everywhere heads were raised and eyes turned curiously upon thehaughty stranger. 

"Eh?" No letters can represent the nasal intonation of this syllabicinquiry, and no words the supreme indifference of the boy's tone. 

"Is Mr. Fleming in? I wish to see him!" Cameron's voice was loud andimperious. 

"Say, boys, " said a lanky youth, with a long, cadaverous countenanceand sallow, unhealthy complexion, illumined, however, and redeemed toa certain extent by black eyes of extraordinary brilliance, "it is thePrince of Wales!" The drawling, awe-struck tones, in the silence thathad fallen, were audible to all in the immediate neighbourhood. 

The titter that swept over the listeners brought the hot blood toCameron's face. A deliberate insult a Highlander takes with calm. He isprepared to deal with it in a manner affording him entire satisfaction. Ridicule rouses him to fury, for, while it touches his pride, it leaveshim no opportunity of vengeance. 

"Can you tell me if Mr. Fleming is in?" he enquired again of the boythat stood scanning him with calm indifference. The rage that possessedhim so vibrated in his tone that the lanky lad drawled again in awarning voice:

"Slide, Jimmy, slide!"

Jimmy "slid, " but towards the counter. 

"Want to see him?" he enquired in a tone of brisk impertinence, as ifsuddenly roused from a reverie. 

"I have a letter for him. "

"All right! Hand it over, " said Jimmy, fully conscious that he was thehero of more than usual interest. 

Cameron hesitated, then passed his letter over to Jimmy, who, readingthe address with deliberate care, winked at the lanky boy, and with ajaunty step made towards a door at the farther end of the room. As hepassed a desk that stood nearest the door, a man who during the last fewminutes had remained with his head down, apparently so immersed inthe papers before him as to be quite unconscious of his surroundings, suddenly called out, "Here, boy!"

Jimmy instantly assumed an air of respectful attention. 

"A letter for Mr. Fleming, " he said. 

"Here!" replied the man, stretching out his hand. 

He hurriedly glanced through the letter. 

"Tell him there is no vacancy at present, " he said shortly. 

The boy came back to Cameron with cheerful politeness. The "old man's"eye was upon him. 

"There is no vacancy at present, " he said briefly, and turned away as ifhis attention were immediately demanded elsewhere by pressing businessof the Metropolitan Transportation & Cartage Company. 

For answer, Cameron threw back the leaf of the counter that barred hisway, and started up the long room, past the staring clerks, to the desknext the door. 

"I wish to see Mr. Fleming, Sir, " he said, his voice trembling slightly, his face pale, his blue-gray eyes ablaze. 

The man at the desk looked up from his work. 

"I have just informed you there is no vacancy at present, " he saidtestily, and turned to his papers again, as if dismissing the incident. 

"Will you kindly tell me if Mr. Fleming is in?" said Cameron in a voicethat had grown quite steady; "I wish to see him personally. "

"Mr. Fleming cannot see you, I tell you!" almost shouted the man, risingfrom his desk and revealing himself a short, pudgy figure, with flabbyface and shining bald head. "Can't you understand English?--I can't bebothered--!"

"What is it, Bates? Someone to see me?"

Cameron turned quickly towards the speaker, who had come from the innerroom. 

"I have brought you a letter, Sir, from Mr. Denman, " he said quietly;"it is there, " pointing to Bates' desk. 

"A letter? Let me have it! Why was not this brought to me at once, Mr. Bates?"

"It was an open letter, Sir, " replied Bates, "and I thought there wasno need of troubling you, Sir. I told the young man we had no vacancy atpresent. "

"This is a personal letter, Mr. Bates, and should have been brought tome at once. Why was Mr. --ah--Mr. Cameron not brought in to me?"

Mr. Bates murmured something about not wishing to disturb the manager ontrivial business. 

"I am the judge of that, Mr. Bates. In future, when any man asks to seeme, I desire him to be shown in at once. "

Mr. Bates began to apologise. 

"That is all that is necessary, Mr. Bates, " said the manager, in a voiceat once quiet and decisive. 

"Come in, Mr. Cameron. I am very sorry this has happened!"

Cameron followed him into his office, noting, as he passed, the redpatches of rage on Mr. Bates' pudgy face, and catching a look of fiercehate from his small piggy eyes. It flashed through his mind that in Mr. Bates, at any rate, he had found no friend. 

The result of the interview with Mr. Fleming was an intimation to Mr. Bates that Mr. Cameron was to have a position in the office of theMetropolitan Transportation & Cartage Company, and to begin work thefollowing morning. 

"Very well, Sir, " replied Mr. Bates--he had apparently quite recoveredhis equanimity--"we shall find Mr. Cameron a desk. "

"We begin work at eight o'clock exactly, " he added, turning to Cameronwith a pleasant smile. 

Mr. Fleming accompanied Cameron to the door. 

"Now, a word with you, Mr. Cameron. You may find Mr. Bates a littledifficult--he is something of a driver--but, remember, he is in chargeof this office; I never interfere with his orders. "

"I understand, Sir, " said Cameron, resolving that, at all costs, heshould obey Mr. Bates' orders, if only to show the general manager hecould recognise and appreciate a gentleman when he saw one. 

Mr. Fleming was putting it mildly when he described Mr. Bates as"something of a driver. " The whole office staff, from Jimmy, the officeboy, to Jacobs, the gentle, white-haired clerk, whose desk was in thefarthest corner of the room, felt the drive. He was not only officemanager, but office master as well. His rule was absolute, and from hisdecisions there was no appeal. The general manager went on the theorythat it was waste of energy to keep a dog and bark himself. In thepolicy that governed the office there were two rules which Mr. Batesenforced with the utmost rigidity--the first, namely, that every memberof the staff must be in his or her place and ready for work when theclock struck eight; the other, that each member of the staff must workindependently of every other member. A man must know his business, andgo through with it; if he required instructions, he must apply to theoffice manager. But, as a rule, one experience of such applicationsufficed for the whole period of a clerk's service in the office of theMetropolitan Transportation & Cartage Company, for Mr. Bates was giftedwith such an exquisiteness of ironical speech that the whole staff werewont to pause in the rush of their work to listen and to admire whena new member was unhappy enough to require instructions, their silentadmiration acting as a spur to Mr. Bates' ingenuity in the invention ofironical discourse. 

Of the peculiarities and idiosyncrasies of Mr. Bates' system, however, Cameron was quite ignorant; nor had his experience in the office ofMessrs. Rae & Macpherson been such as to impress upon him the necessityof a close observation of the flight of time. It did not disturb him, therefore, to notice as he strolled into the offices of the MetropolitanTransportation & Cartage Company the next morning that the hands of theclock showed six minutes past the hour fixed for the beginning ofthe day's work. The office staff shivered in an ecstasy of expectantdelight. Cameron walked nonchalantly to Mr. Bates' desk, his overcoat onhis arm, his cap in his hand. 

"Good morning, Sir, " he said. 

Mr. Bates finished writing a sentence, looked up, and nodded a briefgood morning. 

"We deposit our street attire on the hooks behind the door, yonder!" hesaid with emphatic politeness, pointing across the room. 

Cameron flushed, as in passing his desk he observed the pleased smile onthe lanky boy's sallow face. 

"You evidently were not aware of the hours of this office, " continuedMr. Bates when Cameron had returned. "We open at eight o'clock. "

"Oh!" said Cameron, carelessly. "Eight? Yes, I thought it was eight! Ah!I see! I believe I am five minutes late! But I suppose I shall catch upbefore the day is over!"

"Mr. Cameron, " replied Mr. Bates earnestly, "if you should work fortwenty years for the Metropolitan Transportation & Cartage Company, never will you catch up those five minutes; every minute of your officehours is pledged to the company, and every minute has its own properwork. Your desk is the one next Mr. Jacobs, yonder. Your work is waitingyou there. It is quite simple, the entry of freight receipts uponthe ledger. If you wish further instructions, apply to me here--youunderstand?"

"I think so!" replied Cameron. "I shall do my best to--"

"Very well! That is all!" replied Mr. Bates, plunging his head againinto his papers. 

The office staff sank back to work with every expression ofdisappointment. A moment later, however, their hopes revived. 

"Oh! Mr. Cameron!" called out Mr. Bates. Mr. Cameron returned to hisdesk. "If you should chance to be late again, never mind going to yourdesk; just come here for your cheque. "

Mr. Bates' tone was kindly, even considerate, as if he were anxious tosave his clerk unnecessary inconvenience. 

"I beg your pardon!" stammered Cameron, astonished. 

"That is all!" replied Mr. Bates, his nose once more in his papers. 

Cameron stood hesitating. His eye fell upon the boy, Jimmy, whose faceexpressed keenest joy. 

"Do you mean, Sir, that if I am late you dismiss me forthwith?"

"What?" Mr. Bates' tone was so fiercely explosive that it appeared tothrow up his head with a violent motion. 

Cameron repeated his question. 

"Mr. Cameron, my time is valuable; so is yours. I thought that I spokequite distinctly. Apparently I did not. Let me repeat: In case youshould inadvertently be late again, you need not take the trouble to goto your desk; just come here. Your cheque will be immediately made out. Saves time, you know--your time and mine--and time, you perceive, inthis office represents money. "

Mr. Bates' voice lost none of its kindly interest, but it had grownsomewhat in intensity; the last sentence was uttered with his face closeto his desk. 

Cameron stood a moment in uncertainty, gazing at the bald head beforehim; then, finding nothing to reply, he turned about to behold Jimmyand his lanky friend executing an animated war pantomime which theyapparently deemed appropriate to the occasion. 

With face ablaze and teeth set Cameron went to his desk, to the extremedisappointment of Jimmy and the lanky youth, who fell into each other'sarms, apparently overcome with grief. 

For half an hour the office hummed with the noise of subdued voices andclicked with the rapid fire of the typewriters. Suddenly through the humMr. Bates' voice was heard, clear, calm, and coldly penetrating:

"Mr. Jacobs!"

The old, white-haired clerk started up from Cameron's desk, and beganin a confused and gentle voice to explain that he was merely giving somehints to the new clerk. 

"Mr. Jacobs, " said Mr. Bates, "I cannot hear you, and you are wasting mytime!"

"He was merely showing me how to make these entries!" said Cameron. 

"Ah! Indeed! Thank you, Mr. Cameron! Though I believe Mr. Jacobs has notyet lost the power of lucid speech. Mr. Jacobs, I believe you know therules of this office; your fine will be one-quarter of a day. "

"Thank you!" said Mr. Jacobs, hurriedly resuming his desk. 

"And, Mr. Cameron, if you will kindly bring your work to me, I shall domy best to enlighten you in regard to the complex duty of entering yourfreight receipts. "

An audible snicker ran through the delighted staff. Cameron seized hisledger and the pile of freight bills, and started for Mr. Bates' desk, catching out of the corner of his eye the pantomime of Jimmy and thelanky one, which was being rendered with vigor and due caution. 

For a few moments Cameron stood at the manager's desk till thatgentleman should be disengaged, but Mr. Bates was skilled in thefine art of reducing to abject humility an employee who might giveindications of insubordination. Cameron's rage grew with every passingmoment. 

"Here is the ledger, Sir!" he said at length. 

But Mr. Bates was so completely absorbed in the business of saving timethat he made not the slightest pause in his writing, while the redoubledvigor and caution of the pantomime seemed to indicate the approach of acrisis. At length Mr. Bates raised his head. Jimmy and the lanky clerkbecame at once engrossed in their duties. 

"You have had no experience of this kind of work, Mr. Cameron?" inquiredMr. Bates kindly. 

"No, Sir. But if you will just explain one or two matters, I think Ican--"

"Exactly! This is not, however, a business college! But we shall do ourbest!"

A rapturous smile pervaded the office. Mr. Bates was in excellent form. 

"By the way, Mr. Cameron--pardon my neglect--but may I inquire just whatdepartment of this work you are familiar with?"

"Oh, general--"

"Ah! The position of general manager, however, is filled at present!"replied Mr. Bates kindly. 

Cameron's flush grew deeper, while Jimmy and his friend resignedthemselves to an ecstasy of delight. 

"I was going to say, " said Cameron in a tone loud and deliberate, "thatI had been employed with the general copying work in a writer's office. "

"Writing? Fancy! Writing, eh? No use here!" said Mr. Bates shortly, fortime was passing. 

"A writer with us means a lawyer!" replied Cameron. 

"Why the deuce don't they say so?" answered Mr. Bates impatiently. "Well! Well!" getting hold of himself again. "Here we allow oursolicitors to look after our legal work. Typewrite?" he inquiredsuddenly. 

"I beg your pardon!" replied Cameron. "Typewrite? Do you mean, can I usea typewriting machine?"

"Yes! Yes! For heaven's sake, yes!"

"No, I cannot!"

"Bookkeep?"

"No. "

"Good Lord! What have I got?" inquired Mr. Bates of himself, in a tone, however, perfectly audible to those in the immediate neighbourhood. 

"Try him licking stamps!" suggested the lanky youth in a voice that, while it reached the ears of Jimmy and others near by, includingCameron, was inaudible to the manager. Mr. Bates caught the sound, however, and glared about him through his spectacles. Time was beingwasted--the supreme offense in that office--and Mr. Bates was fastlosing his self-command. 

"Here!" he cried suddenly, seizing a sheaf of letters. "File theseletters. You will be able to do that, I guess! File's in the vault overthere!"

Cameron took the letters and stood looking helplessly from them to Mr. Bates' bald head, that gentleman's face being already in close proximityto the papers on his desk. 

"Just how do I go about this?--I mean, what system do you--"

"Jim!" roared Mr. Bates, throwing down his pen, "show this con--showMr. Cameron how to file these letters! Just like these blank old-countrychumps!" added Mr. Bates, in a lower voice, but loud enough to bedistinctly heard. 

Jim came up with a smile of patronising pity on his face. It was thesmile that touched to life the mass of combustible material that hadbeen accumulating for the last hour in Cameron's soul. Instead offollowing the boy, he turned with a swift movement back to the manager'sdesk, laid his sheaf of letters down on Mr. Bates' papers, and, leaningover the desk, towards that gentleman, said:

"Did you mean that remark to apply to me?" His voice was very quiet. But Mr. Bates started back with a quick movement from the white face andburning eyes. 

"Here, you get out of this!" he cried. 

"Because, " continued Cameron, "if you did, I must ask you to apologiseat once. "

All smiles vanished from the office staff, even Jimmy's face assumed aserious aspect. Mr. Bates pushed back his chair. 

"A-po-pologise!" he sputtered. "Get out of this office, d'ye hear?"

"Be quick!" said Cameron, his hands gripping Mr. Bates' desk till itshook. 

"Jimmy! Call a policeman!" cried Mr. Bates, rising from his chair. 

He was too slow. Cameron reached swiftly for his collar, and with onefierce wrench swept Mr. Bates clear over the top of his desk, shook himtill his head wobbled dangerously, and flung him crashing across thedesk and upon the prostrate form of the lanky youth sitting behind it. 

"Call a policeman! Call a policeman!" shouted Mr. Bates, who wasstruggling meantime with the lanky youth to regain an upright position. 

Cameron, meanwhile, walked quietly to where his coat and cap hung. 

"Hold him, somebody! Hold him!" shouted Mr. Bates, hurrying towards him. 

Cameron turned fiercely upon him. 

"Did you want me, Sir?" he inquired. 

Mr. Bates arrested himself with such violence that his feet slid fromunder him, and once more he came sitting upon the floor. 

"Get up!" said Cameron, "and listen to me!"

Mr. Bates rose, and stood, white and trembling. 

"I may not know much about your Canadian ways of business, but I believeI can teach you some old-country manners. You have treated me thismorning like the despicable bully that you are. Perhaps you will treatthe next old-country man with the decency that is coming to him, even ifhe has the misfortune to be your clerk. "

With these words Cameron turned upon his heel and walked deliberatelytowards the door. Immediately Jimmy sprang before him, and, throwing thedoor wide open, bowed him out as if he were indeed the Prince ofWales. Thus abruptly ended Cameron's connection with the MetropolitanTransportation & Cartage Company. Before the day was done the whole cityhad heard the tale, which lost nothing in the telling. 

Next morning Mr. Denman was surprised to have Cameron walk in upon him. 

"Hullo, young man!" shouted the lawyer, "this is a pretty business!Upon my soul! Your manner of entry into our commercial life is somewhatforceful! What the deuce do you mean by all this?"

Cameron stood, much abashed. His passion was all gone; in the calm lightof after-thought his action of yesterday seemed boyish. 

"I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Denman, " he replied, "and I came to apologise toyou. "

"To me?" cried Denman. "Why to me? I expect, if you wish to get ajob anywhere in this town, you will need to apologise to the chap youknocked down--what's his name?"

"Mr. Bates, I think his name is, Sir; but, of course, I cannot apologiseto him. "

"By Jove!" roared Mr. Denman, "he ought to have thrown you out of hisoffice! That is what I would have done!"

Cameron glanced up and down Mr. Denman's well-knit figure. 

"I don't think so, Sir, " he said, with a smile. 

"Why not?" said Mr. Denman, grasping the arms of his office chair. 

"Because you would not have insulted a stranger in your office who wastrying his best to understand his work. And then, I should not havetried it on you. "

"And why?"

"Well, I think I know a gentleman when I see one. "

Mr. Denman was not to be appeased. 

"Well, let me tell you, young man, it would have been a mighty unhealthything for you to have cut up any such shine in this office. I have donesome Rugby in my day, my boy, if you know what that means. "

"I have done a little, too, " said Cameron, with slightly heightenedcolour. 

"You have, eh! Where?"

"The Scottish International, Sir. "

"By Jove! You don't tell me!" replied Mr. Denman, his tone expressing anew admiration and respect. "When? This year?"

"No, last year, Sir--against Wales!"

"By Jove!" cried Mr. Denman again; "give me your hand, boy! Any man whohas made the Scottish Internationals is not called to stand any cheekfrom a cad like Bates. "

Mr. Denman shook Cameron warmly by the hand. 

"Tell us about it!" he cried. "It must have been rare sport. If Batesonly knew it, he ought to count it an honour to have been knocked downby a Scottish International. "

"I didn't knock him down, Sir!" said Cameron, apologetically; "he isonly a little chap; I just gave him a bit of a shake, " and Cameronproceeded to recount the proceedings of the previous morning. 

Mr. Denman was hugely delighted. 

"Serves the little beast bloody well right!" he cried enthusiastically. "But what's to do now? They will be afraid to let you into their officesin this city. "

"I think, Sir, I am done with offices; I mean to try the land. "

"Farm, eh?" mused Mr. Denman. "Well, so be it! It will probably be saferfor you there--possibly for some others as well. "

CHAPTER II

A MAN'S JOB

Cameron slept heavily and long into the day, but as he awoke he wasconscious of a delightful exhilaration possessing him. For the firsttime in his life he was a free man, ungoverned and unguided. For fourdreary weeks he had waited in Montreal for answers to his enquiriesconcerning positions with farmers, but apparently the Canadian farmerswere not attracted by the qualifications and experience Cameron hadto offer. At length he had accepted the advice of Martin's unclein Montreal, who assured him with local pride that, if he desired aposition on a farm, the district of which the little city of London wasthe centre was the very garden of Canada. He was glad now to rememberthat he had declined a letter of introduction. He was now entirely onhis own. Neither in this city nor in the country round about was therea soul with whom he had the remotest acquaintance. The ways of life ledout from his feet, all untried, all unknown. Which he should choosehe knew not, but with a thrill of exultation he thanked his stars thechoosing was his own concern. A feeling of adventure was upon him, a newcourage was rising in his heart. The failure that had hitherto doggedhis past essays in life did not dampen his confidence, for they hadbeen made under other auspices than his own. He had not fitted into hisformer positions, but they had not been of his own choosing. He wouldnow find a place for himself and if he failed again he was prepared toaccept the responsibility. One bit of philosophy he carried with himfrom Mr. Denman's farewell interview--"Now, young man, rememer, " thatgentleman had said after he had bidden him farewell, "this world ispretty much made already; success consists in adjustment. Don't try tomake your world, adjust yourself to it. Don't fight the world, serve ittill you master it. " Cameron determined he would study adjustments; hisfighting tendency, which had brought him little success in the past, hewould control. 

At this point the throb of a band broke in upon his meditations andsummoned him from his bed. He sprang to the window. It was circus dayand the morning parade, in all its mingled and cosmopolitan glory, wasslowly evolving its animated length to the strains of bands of music. There were bands on horses and bands on chariots, and at the tail of theprocession a fearful and wonderful instrument bearing the euphonious andclassic name of the "calliope, " whose chief function seemed to be thatof terrifying the farmers' horses into frantic and determined attemptsto escape from these horrid alarms of the city to the peaceful haunts oftheir rural solitudes. 

Cameron was still boy enough to hurry through his morning duties inorder that he might mix with the crowd and share the perennial delightswhich a circus affords. The stable yard attached to his hotel was linedthree deep with buggies, carriages, and lumber waggons, which had bornein the crowds of farmers from the country. The hotel was thronged withsturdy red-faced farm lads, looking hot and uncomfortable in theirunaccustomed Sunday suits, gorgeous in their rainbow ties, and rakishwith their hats set at all angles upon their elaborately brushed heads. Older men, too, bearded and staid, moved with silent and self-respectingdignity through the crowds, gazing with quiet and observant eyes uponthe shifting phantasmagoria that filled the circus grounds and thestreets nearby. With these, too, there mingled a few of both old andyoung who, with bacchanalian enthusiasm, were swaggering their waythrough the crowds, each followed by a company of friends good-naturedlytolerant or solicitously careful. 

Cameron's eyes, roving over the multitude, fell upon a little group thatheld his attention, the principal figure of which was a tall middle agedman with a good-natured face, adorned with a rugged grey chin whisker, who was loudly declaiming to a younger companion with a hard face andvery wide awake, "My name's Tom Haley; ye can't come over me. "

"Ye bet yer life they can't. Ye ain't no chicken!" exclaimed hishard-faced friend. "Say, let's liquor up once more before we go to seethe elephant. "

With these two followed a boy of some thirteen years, freckled faced andsolemn, slim and wiry of body, who was anxiously striving to drag hisfather away from one of the drinking booths that dotted the circusgrounds, and towards the big tent; but the father had been already atoo frequent visitor at the booth to be quite amenable to his son'spleading. He, in a glorious mood of self-appreciation, kept announcingto the public generally and to his hard-faced friend in particular--

"My name's Tom Haley; ye can't come over me!"

"Come on, father, " pleaded Tim. 

"No hurry, Timmy, me boy, " said his father. "The elephants won't runaway with the monkeys and the clowns can't git out of the ring. "

"Oh, come on, dad, I'm sure the show's begun. "

"Cheese it, young feller, " said the young man, "yer dad's able to takecare of himself. "

"Aw, you shut yer mouth!" replied Tim fiercely. "I know what you'resuckin' round for. "

"Good boy, Tim, " laughed his father; "ye giv' 'im one that time. Guesswe'll go. So long, Sam, if that's yer name. Ye see I've jist got tertake in this 'ere show this morning with Tim 'ere, and then we have gotsome groceries to git for the old woman. See there, " he drew a paperfrom his pocket, "wouldn't dare show up without 'em, ye bet, eh, Tim!Why, it's her egg and butter money and she wants value fer it, she does. Well, so long, Sam, see ye later, " and with the triumphant Tim he madefor the big tent, leaving a wrathful and disappointed man behind him. 

Cameron spent the rest of the day partly in "taking in" the circusand partly in conversing with the farmers who seemed to have takenpossession of the town; but in answer to his most diligent and carefulenquiries he could hear of no position on a farm for which he couldhonestly offer himself. The farmers wanted mowers, or cradlers, or goodsmart turnip hands, and Cameron sorrowfully had to confess he was noneof these. There apparently was no single bit of work in the farmer'slife that Cameron felt himself qualified to perform. 

It was wearing towards evening when Cameron once more came across Tim. He was standing outside the bar room door, big tears silently coursingdown his pale and freckled cheeks. 

"Hello!" cried Cameron, "what's up old chap? Where's your dad, and hashe got his groceries yet?"

"No, " said Tim, hastily wiping away his tears and looking up somewhatshyly and sullenly into Cameron's face. What he saw there apparently wonhis confidence. 

"He's in yonder, " he continued, "and I can't git him out. They won't lethim come. They're jist making 'im full so he can't do anything, and weought to be startin' fer home right away, too!"

"Well, let's go in anyway and see what they are doing, " said Cameroncheerfully, to whom the pale tear-stained face made strong appeal. 

"They won't let us, " said Tim. "There's a feller there that chucks meout. "

"Won't, eh? We'll see about that! Come along!"

Cameron entered the bar room, with Tim following, and looked about him. The room was crowded to the door with noisy excited men, many of whomwere partially intoxicated. At the bar, two deep, stood a line of menwith glasses in their hands, or waiting to be served. In the farthestcorner of the room stood Tim's father, considerably the worse of hisday's experiences, and lovingly embracing the hard-faced young man, towhom he was at intervals announcing, "My name's Tom Haley! Ye can't gitover me!"

As Cameron began to push through the crowd, a man with a very red face, obviously on the watch for Tim, cried out--

"Say, sonny, git out of here! This is no place fer you!"

Tim drew back, but Cameron, turning to him, said, "Come along, Tim. He's with me, " he added, addressing the man. "He wantshis father. "

"His father's not here. He left half an hour ago. I told him so. "

"You were evidently mistaken, for I see him just across the room there, "said Cameron quietly. 

"Oh! is he a friend of yours?" enquired the red-faced man. 

"No, I don't know him at all, but Tim does, and Tim wants him, " saidCameron, beginning to push his way through the crowd towards thevociferating Haley, who appeared to be on the point of backing up someof his statements with money, for he was flourishing a handful of billsin the face of the young man Sam, who apparently was quite willing toaccommodate him with the wager. 

Before Cameron could make his way through the swaying, roaring crowd, the red-faced man slipped from his side, and in a very few momentsappeared at a side door near Tom Haley's corner. Almost immediatelythere was a shuffle and Haley and his friends disappeared through theside door. 

"Hello!" cried Cameron, "there's something doing! We'll just slip aroundthere, my boy. " So saying, he drew Tim back from the crowd and outof the front door, and, hurrying around the house, came upon Sam, thered-faced man, and Haley in a lane leading past the stable yard. Thered-faced man was affectionately urging a bottle upon Haley. 

"There they are!" said Tim in an undertone, clutching Cameron's arm. "You get him away and I'll hitch up. "

"All right, Tim, " said Cameron, "I'll get him. They are evidently up tono good. "

"What's yer name?" said Tim hurriedly. 

"Cameron!"

"Come on, then!" he cried, dragging Cameron at a run towards his father. "Here, Dad!" he cried, "this is my friend, Mr. Cameron! Come on home. I'm going to hitch up. We'll be awful late for the chores and we gotthem groceries to git. Come on, Dad!"

"Aw, gwan! yer a cheeky kid anyway, " said Sam, giving Tim a shove thatnearly sent him on his head. 

"Hold on there, my man, you leave the boy alone, " said Cameron. 

"What's your business in this, young feller?"

"Never mind!" said Cameron. "Tim is a friend of mine and no one is goingto hurt him. Run along, Tim, and get your horses. "

"Friend o' Tim's, eh!" said Haley, in half drunken good nature. "Friendo' Tim's, friend o' mine, " he added, gravely shaking Cameron by thehand. "Have a drink, young man. You look a' right!"

Cameron took the bottle, put it to his lips. The liquor burned likefire. 

"Great Caesar!" he gasped, contriving to let the bottle drop upon astone. "What do you call that?"

"Pretty hot stuff!" cried Haley, with a shout of laughter. 

But Sam, unable to see the humour of the situation, exclaimed in a rage, "Here, you cursed fool! That is my bottle!"

"Sorry to be so clumsy, " said Cameron apologetically, "but it surelywasn't anything to drink, was it?"

"Yes, it jest was something to drink, was it?" mocked Sam, approachingCameron with menace in his eye and attitude. "I have a blanked goodnotion to punch your head, too!"

"Oh! I wouldn't do that if I were you, " said Cameron, smilingpleasantly. 

"Say, Sam, don't get mad, Sam, " interposed Haley. "This young feller'sa friend o' Tim's. I'll git another bottle a' right. I've got the stuffright here. " He pulled out his roll of bills. "And lots more where thiscomes from. "

"Let me have that, Mr. Haley, I'll get the bottle for you, " saidCameron, reaching out for the bills. 

"A' right, " said Haley. "Friend o' Tim's, friend o' mine. "

"Here, young feller, you're too fresh!" cried the red-faced man, "buttin' in here! You make tracks, git out! Come, git out, I tell yeh!"

"Give it to him quick, " said Sam in a low voice. 

The red-faced man, without the slightest warning, swiftly steppedtowards Cameron and, before the latter could defend himself, struck hima heavy blow. Cameron staggered, fell, and struggled again to his knees. The red-faced man sprang forward to kick him in the face, when Haleyinterposed--

"Hold up there, now! Friend o' Tim's, friend o' mine, ye know!"

"Hurry up, " said Sam, closing in on Haley. "Quit fooling. Give 'im thebilly and let's get away!"

But Haley, though unskilled with his hands, was a man of more thanordinary strength, and he swung his long arms about with such vigourthat neither Sam, who was savagely striking at his head, nor thered-faced man, who was dancing about waiting for a chance to get in withthe "billy, " which he held in his hand, was able to bring the affair toa finish. It could be a matter of only a few moments, however, for bothSam and his friend were evidently skilled in the arts of the thug, whileHaley, though powerful enough, was chiefly occupying himself in beatingthe air. A blow from the billy dropped one of Haley's arms helpless. Thered-faced man, following up his advantage, ran in to finish, but Haleygripped him by the wrist and, exerting all his strength, gave a mightyheave and threw him heavily against Sam, who was running in upon theother side. At the same time Cameron, who was rapidly recovering, clutched Sam by a leg and brought him heavily to earth. Reaching down, Haley gripped Cameron by the collar and hauled him to his feet just asSam, who had sprung up, ran to the attack. Steadied by Haley, Cameronbraced himself, and, at exactly the right moment, stiffened his leftarm with the whole weight of his body behind it. The result was a mostunhappy one for Sam, who, expecting no such reception, was liftedclear off his feet and hurled to the ground some distance away. Theexhilaration of his achievement brought Cameron's blood back again tohis brain. Swiftly he turned upon the red-faced man just as that worthyhad brought Haley to his knees with a cruel blow and was preparingto finish off his victim. With a shout Cameron sprang at him, the manturned quickly, warded off Cameron's blow, and then, seeing Sam lyinghelpless upon the ground, turned and fled down the lane. 

"Say, young feller!" panted Haley, staggering to his feet, "yeh came inmighty slick that time. Yeh ain't got a bottle on ye, hev yeh?"

"No!" said Cameron, "but there's a pump near by. "

"Jest as good and a little better, " said Haley, staggering towards thepump. "Say, " he continued, with a humourous twinkle in his eye, andglancing at the man lying on the ground, "Sam's kinder quiet, ain't he?Run agin something hard like, I guess. "

Cameron filled a bucket with water and into its icy depths Haley plungedhis head. 

"Ow! that's good, " he sputtered, plunging his head in again and again. "Fill 'er up once more!" he said, wiping off his face with a big redhandkerchief. "Now, I shouldn't wonder if it would help Sam a bit. "

He picked up the bucket of water and approached Sam, who meantime hadgot to a sitting position and was blinking stupidly around. 

"Here, ye blamed hog, hev a wash, ye need it bad!" So saying, Haleyflung the whole bucket of water over Sam's head and shoulders. "Fill'er up again, " he said, but Sam had had enough, and, swearing wildly, gasping and sputtering, he made off down the lane. 

"I've heard o' them circus toughs, " said Haley in a meditative tone, "but never jest seen 'em before. Say, young feller, yeh came in mightyhandy fer me a' right, and seeing as yer Tim's friend put it there. " Hegripped Cameron's hand and shook it heartily. "Here's Tim with the team, and, say, there's no need to mention anything about them fellers. Tim'sreal tender hearted. Well, I'm glad to hev met yeh. Good-bye! Livinghere?"

"No!"

"Travellin', eh?"

"Not exactly, " replied Cameron. "The truth is I'm looking for aposition. "

"A position? School teachin', mebbe?"

"No, a position on a farm. "

"On a farm? Ha! ha! good! Position on a farm, " repeated Haley. 

"Yes, " replied Cameron. "Do you know of any?"

"Position on a farm!" said Haley again, as if trying to grasp themeaning of this extraordinary quest. "There ain't any. "

"No positions?" enquired Cameron. 

"Nary one! Say, young man, where do you come from?"

"Scotland, " replied Cameron. 

"Scotland! yeh don't say, now. Jest out, eh?"

"Yes, about a month or so. "

"Well, well! Yeh don't say so!"

"Yes, " replied Cameron, "and I am surprised to hear that there is nowork. "

"Oh! hold on there now!" interposed Haley gravely. "If it's work youwant there are stacks of it lying round, but there ain't no positions. Positions!" ejaculated Haley, who seemed to be fascinated by the word, "there ain't none on my farm except one and I hold that myself; butthere's lots o' work, and--why! I want a man right now. What say? Comealong, stay's long's yeh like. I like yeh fine. "

"All right, " said Cameron. "Wait till I get my bag, but I ought to tellyou I have had no experience. "

"No experience, eh!" Haley pondered. "Well, we'll give it to you, andanyway you saved me some experience to-day and you come home with me. "

When he returned he found Haley sitting on the bottom of the wagonrapidly sinking into slumber. The effects of the bucket were passingoff. 

"What about the groceries, Tim?" enquired Cameron. 

"We've got to git 'em, " said Tim, "or we'll catch it sure. "

Leaving Cameron to wonder what it might be that they were sure to catch, Tim extracted from his father's pocket the paper on which were listedthe groceries to be purchased, and the roll of bills, and handed both toCameron. 

"You best git 'em, " he said, and, mounting to the high spring seat, turned the team out of the yard. The groceries secured with Cameron'shelp, they set off for home as the long June evening was darkening intonight. 

"My! it's awful late, " said Tim in a voice full of foreboding. "AndPerkins ain't no good at chores. "

"How far is it to your home?" enquired Cameron. 

"Nine miles out this road and three off to the east. "

"And who's Perkins?"

"Perkins! Joe Perkins! He's our hired man. He's a terror to work atplowin', cradlin', and bindin', but he ain't no good at chores. I betyeh he'll leave Mandy to do the milkin', ten cows, and some's awfulbad. "

"And who's Mandy?" enquired Cameron. 

"Mandy! She's my sister. She's an awful quick milker. She can beat Dad, or Perkins, or any of 'em, but ten cows is a lot, and then there's thepigs and the calves to feed, and the wood, too. I bet Perkins won't cuta stick. He's good enough in the field, " continued Tim, with an obviousdesire to do Perkins full justice, "but he ain't no good around thehouse. He says he ain't hired to do women's chores, and Ma she won't ask'im. She says if he don't do what he sees to be done she'd see 'im farenough before she'd ask 'im. " And so Timothy went on with a monologuereplete with information, his high thin voice rising clear above theroar and rattle of the lumber wagon as it rumbled and jolted over therutty gravel road. Those who knew the boy would have been amazed at hisloquacity, but something in Cameron had won his confidence and openedhis heart. Hence his monologue, in which the qualities, good and bad, ofthe members of the family, of their own hired man and of other hiredmen were fully discussed. The standard of excellence for work in theneighbourhood, however, appeared to be Perkins, whose abilities Timappeared greatly to admire, but for whose person he appeared to havelittle regard. 

"He's mighty good at turnip hoeing, too, " he said. "I could pretty nearkeep up to him last year and I believe I could do it this year. Someday soon I'm going to git after 'im. My! I'd like to trim 'im to a finepoint. "

The live stock on the farm in general, and the young colts inparticular, among which a certain two-year-old was showing signs ofmarvellous speed, these and cognate subjects relating to the farm, itsdwellers and its activities, Tim passed in review, with his own shrewdcomments thereon. 

"And what do you play, Tim?" asked Cameron, seeking a point of contactwith the boy. 

"Nothin', " said Tim shortly. "No time. "

"Don't you go to school?"

"Yes, in fall and winter. Then we play ball and shinny some, but thereain't much time. "

"But you can't work all the time, Tim? What work can you do?"

"Oh!" replied Tim carelessly, "I run a team. "

"Run a team? What do you mean?"

Tim glanced up at him and, perceiving that he was quite serious, proceeded to explain that during the spring's work he had taken hisplace in the plowing and harrowing with the "other" men, that heexpected to drive the mower and reaper in haying and harvest, that, inshort, in almost all kinds of farm work he was ready to take the placeof a grown man; and all this without any sign of boasting. 

Cameron thought over his own life, in which sport had filled up so largea place and work so little, and in which he had developed so littlepower of initiative and such meagre self-dependence, and he envied thesolemn-faced boy at his side, handling his team and wagon with the skillof a grown man. 

"I say, Tim!" he exclaimed in admiration, "you're great. I wish I coulddo half as much. "

"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Tim in modest self-disdain, "that ain't nothin', but I wish I could git off a bit. "

"Get off? What do you mean?"

The boy was silent for some moments, then asked shyly:

"Say! Is there big cities in Scotland, an' crowds of people, an' trains, an' engines, an' factories, an' things? My! I wish I could git away!"

Then Cameron understood dimly something of the wander-lust in the boy'ssoul, of the hunger for adventure, for the colour and movement of lifein the great world "away" from the farm, that thrilled in the boy'svoice. So for the next half hour he told Tim tales of his own life, thechief glory of which had been his achievements in the realm of sport, and, before he was aware, he was describing to the boy the greatInternational with Wales, till, remembering the disastrous finish, hebrought his narrative to an abrupt close. 

"And did yeh lick 'em?" demanded Tim in a voice of intense excitement. 

"No, " said Cameron shortly. 

"Oh, hedges! I wisht ye had!" exclaimed Tim in deep disappointment. 

"It was my fault, " replied Cameron bitterly, for the eager wish in theboy's heart had stirred a similar yearning in his own and had opened anold sore. 

"I was a fool, " he said, more to himself than to Tim. "I let myself getout of condition and so I lost them the match. "

"Aw, git out!" said Tim, with unbelieving scorn. "I bet yeh didn't! My!I wisht I could see them games. "

"Oh, pshaw! Tim, they are not half so worth while as plowing, harrowing, and running your team. Why, here you are, a boy of--how old?"

"Thirteen, " said Tim. 

"A boy of thirteen able to do a man's work, and here am I, a man oftwenty-one, only able to do a boy's work, and not even that. But I'mgoing to learn, Tim, " added Cameron. "You hear me, I am going to learnto do a man's work. If I can, " he added doubtfully. 

"Oh, shucks!" replied Tim, "you bet yeh can, and I'll show yeh, " withwhich mutual determination they turned in at the gate of the Haley farm, which was to be the scene of Cameron's first attempt to do a man's workand to fill a man's place in the world. 

CHAPTER III

A DAY'S WORK

The Haley farm was a survival of an ambitious past. Once the property ofa rich English gentleman, it had been laid out with an eye to appearancerather than to profit and, though the soil was good enough, it hadnever been worked to profit. Consequently, when its owner had tiredof Colonial life, he had at first rented the farm, but, finding thisunsatisfactory, he, in a moment of disgust, advertised it for sale. Pretentious in its plan and in its appointments, its neglected and rundown condition gave it an air of decayed gentility, depressing aliketo the eye of the beholder and to the selling price of the owner. Haleybought it and bought it cheap. From the high road a magnificent avenueof maples led to a house of fine proportions, though sadly needingrepair. The wide verandahs, the ample steps were unpainted and fallinginto ruin; the lawn reaching from the front door to the orchard wasspacious, but overgrown with burdocks, nettles and other noxious weeds;the orchard, which stretched from the lawn to the road on both sidesof the lane, had been allowed to run sadly to wood. At the side of thehouse the door-yard was littered with abandoned farm implements, pilesof old fence rails and lumber and other impedimenta, which, thoughkindly Nature, abhorring the unsightly rubbish, was doing her utmost tohide it all beneath a luxuriant growth of docks, milkweed, and nettles, lent an air of disorder and neglect to the whole surroundings. Theporch, or "stoop, " about the summer kitchen was set out with anassortment of tubs and pails, pots and pans, partially filled withvarious evil looking and more evil smelling messes, which afforded anexcellent breeding and feeding place for flies, mosquitoes, and otherunpleasant insects. Adjoining the door yard, and separated from it by afence, was the barn yard, a spacious quadrangle flanked on three sidesby barns, stables, and sheds, which were large and finely planned, butwhich now shared the general appearance of decrepitude. The fence, whichseparated one yard from the other, was broken down, so that the barnyard dwellers, calves, pigs, and poultry, wandered at will in search ofamusement or fodder to the very door of the kitchen, and so materiallycontributed to the general disorder, discomfort, and dirt. 

Away from the house, however, where Nature had her own way, the farmstretched field after field on each side of the snake fenced lane to theline of woods in the distance, a picture of rich and varied beauty. Fromthe rising ground on which the house was situated a lovely vista sweptright from the kitchen door away to the remnant of the forest primevalat the horizon. On every field the signs of coming harvest wereluxuriantly visible, the hay fields, grey-green with blooming "Timothy"and purple with the deep nestling clover, the fall wheat green andyellowing into gold, the spring wheat a lighter green and bursting intohead, the oats with their graceful tasselated stalks, the turnip fieldribboned with its lines of delicate green on the dark soil drills, backof all, the "slashing" where stumps, blackened with fire, and trunksof trees piled here and there in confusion, all overgrown with weeds, represented the transition stage between forest and harvest field, andbeyond the slashing the dark cool masses of maple, birch, and elm; allthese made a scene of such varied loveliness as to delight the soulattuned to nature. 

Upon this scene of vivid contrasts, on one side house and barn and yard, and on the other the rolling fields and massive forest, Cameron stoodlooking in the early light of his first morning on the farm, withmingled feelings of disgust and pleasure. In a few moments, however, theloveliness of the far view caught and held his eye and he stood as in adream. The gentle rolling landscape, with its rich variety of greens andyellows and greys, that swept away from his feet to the dark masses ofwoods, with their suggestions of cool and shady depth, filled his soulwith a deep joy and brought him memory of how the "Glen of the Cup ofGold" would look that morning in the dear home-land so far away. True, there were neither mountains nor moors, neither lochs nor birch-cladcliffs here. Nature, in her quieter mood, looked up at him from thesesloping fields and bosky woods and smiled with kindly face, and thatsmile of hers it was that brought to Cameron's mind the sunny Glen ofthe Cup of Gold. It was the sweetest, kindliest thing his eye had lookedon since he had left the Glen. 

A harsh and fretful voice broke in upon his dreaming. 

"Pa-a-w, there ain't a stick of wood for breakfast! There was none lastnight! If you want any breakfast you'd best git some wood!"

"All right, Mother!" called Haley from the barn yard, where he wasassisting in the milking. "I'm a comin'. "

Cameron walked to meet him. 

"Can I help?" he enquired. 

"Why, of course!" shouted Haley. "Here, Ma, here's our new hand, thevery man for you. "

Mrs. Haley, who had retired to the kitchen, appeared at the door. Shewas a woman past middle age, unduly stout, her face deep lined withthe fret of a multitude of cares, and hung with flabby folds of skin, browned with the sun and wind, though it must be confessed its color wasdetermined more by the grease and grime than by the tan upon it. Yet, in spite of the flabby folds of flesh, in spite of the grime and grease, there was still a reminiscence of a one-time comeliness, all the morepathetic by reason of its all too obvious desecration. Her voice washarsh, her tone fretful, which indeed was hardly to be wondered at, for the burden of her life was by no means light, and the cares of thehousehold, within and without, were neither few nor trivial. 

For a moment or two Mrs. Haley stood in silence studying and appraisingthe new man. The result did not apparently inspire her with hope. 

"Come on now, Pa, " she said, "stop yer foolin' and git me that wood. Iwant it right now. You're keepin' me back and there's an awful lot todo. "

"But I ain't foolin', Ma. Mr. Cameron is our new hand. He'll knock yehoff a few sticks in no time. " So saying, Haley walked off with his pailsto the milking, leaving his wife and the new hand facing each other, each uncertain as to the next move. 

"What can I do, Mrs. Haley?" enquired Cameron politely. 

"Oh, I don't know, " said Mrs. Haley wearily. "I want a few sticks forthe breakfast, but perhaps I can get along with chips, but chips don'tgive no steady fire. "

"If you would show me just what to do, " said Cameron with somehesitation, "I mean, where is the wood to be got?"

"There, " she said, in a surprised tone, pointing to a pile of long logsof ash and maple. "I don't want much. " She gathered her apron full ofchips and turned away, all too obviously refusing to place her hope ofwood for the breakfast fire upon the efforts of the new man. Cameronstood looking alternately at the long, hard, dry logs and at the axewhich he had picked up from the bed of chips. The problem of how toproduce the sticks necessary to breakfast by the application of the oneto the other was one for which he could see no solution. He lifted hisaxe and brought it down hard upon a maple log. The result was a slightindentation upon the log and a sharp jar from the axe handle that ran uphis arm unpleasantly. A series of heavy blows produced nothing more thana corresponding series of indentations in the tough maple log and ofjars more or less sharp and painful shooting up his arms. The result wasnot encouraging, but it flashed upon him that this was his first attemptto make good at his job on the farm. He threw off his coat and went athis work with energy; but the probability of breakfast, so far as itdepended upon the result of his efforts, seemed to be growing more andmore remote. 

"Guess ye ain't got the knack of it, " said a voice, deep, full, andmellow, behind him. "That axe ain't no good for choppin', it's asplittin' axe. "

Turning, he saw a girl of about seventeen, with little grace and lessbeauty, but strongly and stoutly built, and with a good-natured, ifsomewhat stupid and heavy face. Her hair was dun in colour, coarsein texture, and done up loosely and carelessly in two heavy braids, arranged about her head in such a manner as to permit stray wisps ofhair to escape about her face and neck. She was dressed in a loose pinkwrapper, all too plainly of home manufacture, gathered in at thewaist, and successfully obliterating any lines that might indicatethe existence of any grace of form, and sadly spotted and stained withgrease and dirt. Her red stout arms ended in thick and redder hands, decked with an array of black-rimmed nails. At his first glance, sweeping her "tout ensemble, " Cameron was conscious of a feeling ofrepulsion, but in a moment this feeling passed and he was surprised tofind himself looking into two eyes of surprising loveliness, dark blue, well shaped, and of such liquid depths as to suggest pools of waterunder forest trees. 

"They use the saw mostly, " said the girl. 

"The saw?" echoed Cameron. 

"Yes, " she said. "They saw 'em through and then split 'em with the axe. "

Cameron picked up the buck-saw which lay against a rickety saw horse. Never in his life had he used such an instrument. He gazed helplessly athis companion. 

"How do you use this thing?" he enquired. 

"Say! are you funny, " replied the girl, flashing a keen glance upon him, "or don't ye know?"

"Never saw it done in my life, " said Cameron solemnly. 

"Here!" she cried, "let me show you. "

She seized the end of a maple log, dragged it forward to the rickety sawhorse, set it in position, took the saw from his hands, and went at herwork with such vigour that in less than a minute as it seemed to Cameronshe had made the cut. 

"Give me that axe!" she said impatiently to Cameron, who was preparingto split the block. 

With a few strong and skillful blows she split the straight-grainedblock of wood into firewood, gathered up the sticks in her arms, and, with a giggle, turned toward the house. 

"I won't charge you anything for that lesson, " she said, "but you'llhave to hustle if you git that wood split 'fore breakfast. "

"Thank you, " said Cameron, grateful that none of the men had witnessedthe instruction, "I shall do my best, " and for the next half hour, withlittle skill, but by main strength, he cut off a number of blocks fromthe maple log and proceeded to split them. But in this he made slowprogress. From the kitchen came cheerful sounds and scents of cooking, and ever and anon from the door waddled, with quite surprising celerity, the unwieldy bulk of the mistress of the house. 

"Now, that's jest like yer Pa, " Cameron heard her grumbling to herdaughter, "bringin' a man here jest at the busy season who don't knownothin'. He's peckin' away at 'em blocks like a rooster peckin' grain. "

"He's willin' enough, Ma, " replied the girl, "and I guess he'll learn. "

"Learn!" puffed Mrs. Haley contemptuously. "Did ye ever see anold-country man learn to handle an axe or a scythe after he was growedup? Jest look at 'im. Thank goodness! there's Tim. "

"Here, Tim!" she called from the door, "best split some o' that wood'fore breakfast. "

Tim approached Cameron with a look of pity on his face. 

"Let me have a try, " he said. Cameron yielded him the axe. The boy seton end the block at which Cameron had been laboring and, with a swiftglancing blow of the axe, knocked off a slab. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Cameron admiringly, "how did you do that?"

For answer the boy struck again the same glancing blow, a slab startedand, at a second light blow, fell to the ground. 

"I say!" exclaimed Cameron again, "I must learn that trick. "

"Oh, that's easy!" said Tim, knocking the slabs off from the outside ofthe block. "This heart's goin' to be tough, though; got a knot in it, "and tough it proved, resisting all his blows. 

"You're a tough sucker, now, ain't yeh?" said Tim, through his shutteeth, addressing the block. "We'll try yeh this way. " He laid the endof the block upon a log and plied the axe with the full strength ofhis slight body, but the block danced upon the log and resisted all hisblows. 

"Say! you're a tough one now!" he said, pausing for breath. 

"Let me try that, " said Cameron, and, putting forth his strength, hebrought the axe down fairly upon the stick with such force that theinstrument shore clean through the knot and sank into the log below. 

"Huh! that's a cracker, " said Tim with ungrudging admiration. "All youwant is knack. I'll slab it off and you can do the knots, " he added witha grin. 

As the result of this somewhat unequal division of labor, there lay inhalf an hour a goodly pile of fire wood ready for the cooking. It caughtHaley's eye as he came in to breakfast. 

"I say, Missus, that's a bigger pile than you've had for some time. Guess my new man ain't so slow after all. "

"Huh!" puffed his wife, waddling about with great agility, "it was Timthat done it. "

"Now, Ma, ye know well enough he helped Tim, and right smart too, " saidthe daughter, but her mother was too busy getting breakfast ready forthe hungry men who were now performing their morning ablutions with thehelp of a very small basin set upon a block of wood outside the kitchendoor to answer. 

There were two men employed by Haley, one the son of a Scotch-Canadianfarmer, Webster by name, a stout young fellow, but slow in hismovements, both physical and mental, and with no further ambition thanto do a fair day's work for a fair day's pay. He was employed by themonth during the busier seasons of the year. The other, Perkins, wasHaley's "steady" man, which means that he was employed by the year andwas regarded almost as a member of the family. Perkins was an Englishmanwith fair hair and blue eyes, of fresh complexion, burned to a clearred, clean-cut features, and a well knit, athletic frame. He was, asTim declared, a terror to work; indeed, his fame as a worker was wellestablished throughout the country side. To these men Cameron wasintroduced as being from Scotland and as being anxious to be initiatedinto the mysteries of Canadian farm life. 

"Glad to see you!" said Perkins, shaking him heartily by the hand. "We'll make a farmer of you, won't we, Tim? From Scotland, eh? Prettyfine country, I hear--to leave, " he added, with a grin at his ownhumour. Though his manner was pleasant enough, Cameron became consciousof a feeling of aversion, which he recognised at once as being asunreasonable as it was inexplicable. He set it down as a reflectionof Tim's mental attitude toward the hired man. Perkins seized thetin basin, dipped some water from the rain barrel standing near, and, setting it down before Cameron, said:

"Here, pile in, Scotty. Do they wash in your country?"

"Yes, " replied Cameron, "they are rather strong on that, " wondering atthe same time how the operation could be performed successfully withsuch a moderate supply of water. After using a second and third supply, however, he turned, with hands and face dripping, and looked about for atowel. Perkins handed him a long roller towel, black with dirt andstiff with grease. Had his life depended upon it Cameron could not haveavoided a shuddering hesitation as he took the filthy cloth preparatoryto applying it to his face. 

"'Twon't hurt you, " laughed Perkins. "Wash day ain't till next week, youknow, and this is only Wednesday. " Suddenly the towel was snatched fromCameron's hands. 

"Gimme that towel!" It was the girl, with face aflame and eyes emittingblue fire. "Here; Mr. Cameron, take this, " she said. 

"Great Jerusalem, Mandy! You ain't goin' to bring on a clean towel themiddle of the week?" said Perkins in mock dismay. "Guess it's for Mr. Cameron, " he continued with another laugh. 

"We give clean towels to them that knows how to use 'em, " said Mandy, whisking wrathfully into the house. 

"Say, Scotty!" said Perkins, in a loud bantering tone, "guess you'remakin' a mash on Mandy all right. "

"I don't know exactly what you mean, " said Cameron with a quick risingof wrath, "but I do know that you are making a beastly cad of yourself. "

"Oh, don't get wrathy, Scotty!" laughed Perkins, "we're just having alittle fun. Here's the comb!" But Cameron declined the article, which, from its appearance, seemed to be intended for family use, and, proceeding to his room, completed his toilet there. 

The breakfast was laid in the kitchen proper, a spacious and comfortableroom, which served as living room for the household. The table wasladen with a variety and abundance of food that worthily sustained thereputation of the Haleys of being "good feeders. " At one end of thetable a large plate was heaped high with slices of fat pork, and hereand there disposed along its length were dishes of fried potatoes, hugepiles of bread, hot biscuits, plates of butter, pies of different kinds, maple syrup, and apple sauce. It was a breakfast fit for a lord, andCameron sat down with a pleasurable anticipation induced by his earlyrising and his half hour's experience in the fresh morning air with thewood pile. A closer inspection, however, of the dishes somewhat dampedthe pleasure of his anticipation. The food was good, abundant, and wellcooked, but everywhere there was an utter absence of cleanliness. The plates were greasy, the forks and knives bore the all too evidentremains of former meals, and everywhere were flies. In hundreds theyswarmed upon the food, while, drowned in the gravy, cooked in thepotatoes, overwhelmed in the maple syrup, buried in the butter, theirghastly carcasses were to be seen. With apparent unconcern the menbrushed aside the living and picked out and set aside the remains of thedead, the unhappy victims of their own greed or temerity, and went oncalmly and swiftly with their business. Not a word was spoken exceptby Cameron himself, who, constrained by what he considered to be theordinary decencies of society, made an effort to keep up a conversationwith Mr. Haley at the head of the table and occasionally ventured aremark to his wife, who, with Mandy, was acting as a waiter upon thehungry men. But conversation is a social exercise, and Cameron foundhimself compelled to abandon his well meant but solitary efforts atmaintaining the conventions of the breakfast table. There was neithertime nor occasion for conversation. The business of the hour wassomething quite other, namely, that of devouring as large a portionof the food set before them as was possible within the limits of timeassigned for the meal. Indeed, the element of time seemed to be one ofvery considerable importance, as Cameron discovered, for he was stillpicking his way gingerly and carefully through his pork and potatoes bythe time that Perkins, having completed a second course consisting ofpie and maple syrup, had arrived at the final course of bread and butterand apple sauce. 

"Circulate the butter!" he demanded of the table in general. He took theplate from Cameron's hand, looked at it narrowly for a moment, then withthumb and forefinger drew from the butter with great deliberation a longdun-coloured hair. 

"Say!" he said in a low voice, but perfectly audible, "they forgot tocomb it this morning. "

Cameron was filled with unspeakable disgust, but, glancing at Mrs. Haley's face, he saw to his relief that both the action and the remarkhad been unnoticed by her. But on Mandy's face he saw the red ensign ofshame and wrath, and in spite of himself he felt his aversion towardsthe ever-smiling hired man deepen into rage. 

Finding himself distanced in his progress through the various courses atbreakfast, Cameron determined to miss the intermediate course of pieand maple syrup and, that he might finish on more even terms with theothers, proceeded with bread and butter and apple sauce. 

"Don't yeh hurry, " said Mrs. Haley with hearty hospitality. "Eat plenty, there's lots to spare. Here, have some apple sauce. " She caught up thebowl which held this most delicious article of food. 

"Where's the spoon?" she said, glancing round the table. There was noneimmediately available. "Here!" she cried, "this'll do. " She snatcheda large spoon from the pitcher of thick cream, held it dripping fora moment in obvious uncertainty, then with sudden decision she cried"Never mind, " and with swift but effective application of lip and tongueshe cleansed the spoon of the dripping cream, and, stirring the applesauce vigourously, passed the bowl to Cameron. For a single momentCameron held the bowl, uncertain whether to refuse or not, but before hecould make up his mind Mandy caught it from his hands. 

"Oh, Ma!" she exclaimed in a horrified tone. 

"What's the matter?" exclaimed her mother. "A little cream won't hurt. "

But Mandy set the bowl at the far end of the table and passed another toCameron, who accepted it with resolute determination and continued hisbreakfast. 

But Perkins, followed by Webster and Tim, rose from the table and passedout into the yard, whence his voice could be heard in explosions oflaughter. Cameron in the meantime was making heroic attempts to coverup the sound by loud-voiced conversation with Haley, and, rendereddesperate by the exigencies of the situation, went so far as to venturea word of praise to Mrs. Haley upon the excellence and abundance of hercooking. 

"She ain't got no chance, " said her husband. "She's got too much to doand it's awful hard to get help. Of course, there's Mandy. "

"Of course, there's Mandy, " echoed his wife. "I guess you'd just bettersay, 'There's Mandy. ' She's the whole thing is Mandy. What I'd dowithout her goodness only knows. "

But Mandy was no longer present to enjoy her mother's enconiums. Hervoice could be heard in the yard making fierce response to Perkins'jesting remarks. As Cameron was passing out from the kitchen he heardher bitter declaration: "I don't care, it was real mean of you, and I'llpay you for it yet, Mr. Perkins--before a stranger, too. " Mandy's voicesuggested tears. 

"Oh, pshaw, Mandy!" remonstrated Perkins, "it was all a joke, and whocares for him anyway, unless it's yourself?"

But Mandy, catching sight of Cameron, fled with fiery face behind thekitchen, leaving Perkins gazing after her with an apologetic grin uponhis countenance. 

"She's rather hot under the collar, " he confided to Cameron, "but sheneedn't get so, I didn't mean nothin'. "

Cameron ignored him. He was conscious mainly of a resolute determinationthat at all costs he must not yield to his almost uncontrollable desireto wipe off the apologetic smile with a well directed blow. Mr. Denman'sparting advice was in his mind and he was devoting all his powers tothe business of adjusting himself to his present environment. But tohis fastidious nature the experiences of the morning made it somewhatdoubtful if he should be able to carry out the policy of adjustmentto the extreme of schooling himself to bear with equal mind the dailycontact with the dirt and disorder which held so large a place inthe domestic economy of the Haley household. One thing he was firmlyresolved upon, he would henceforth perform his toilet in his own room, and thereby save himself the horror of the family roller towel and thefamily comb. 

Breakfast over, the men stood waiting orders for the day. 

"We'll have to crowd them turnips through, Tim, " said his father, whoseemed to avoid as far as possible giving direct orders to his men. "Next week we'll have to git at the hay. " So to the turnip field theywent. 

It is one of the many limitations of a city-bred boy that he knowsnothing of the life history and the culture of the things that grow upona farm. Apples and potatoes he recognises when they appear as articlesof diet upon the table; oats and wheat he vaguely associates in somemysterious and remote way with porridge and bread, but whether potatoesgrow on trees or oats in pods he has no certain knowledge. Blessed isthe country boy for many reasons, but for none more than this, that theworld of living and growing things, animate and inanimate, is one whichhe has explored and which he intimately knows; and blessed is the cityboy for whom his wise parents provide means of acquaintance with thiswonder workshop of old mother Nature, God's own open country. 

Turnip-hoeing is an art, a fine art, demanding all the talents of highgenius, a true eye, a sure hand, a sensitive conscience, industry, courage, endurance, and pride in achievement. These and other giftsare necessary to high success. Not to every man is it given to become aturnip-hoer in the truest sense of that word. The art is achieved onlyafter long and patient devotion, and, indeed, many never attain highexcellence. Of course, therefore, there are grades of artists in this asin other departments. There are turnip-hoers and turnip-hoers, just asthere are painters and painters. It was Tim's ambition to be the firstturnip-hoer of his district, and toward this end he had striven bothlast season and this with a devotion that deserved, if it did notachieve, success. Quietly he had been patterning himself upon thatmaster artist, Perkins, who for some years had easily held thechampionship for the district. Keenly Tim had been observing Perkins'excellencies and also his defects; secretly he had been developing astyle of his own, and, all unnoted, he had tested his speed by that ofPerkins by adopting the method of lazily loafing along and then catchingup by a few minutes of whirlwind work. Tim felt in his soul the day ofbattle could not be delayed past this season; indeed, it might come anyday. The very thought of it made his slight body quiver and his heartbeat so quickly as almost to choke him. 

To the turnip field hied Haley's men, Perkins and Webster leading theway, Tim and Cameron bringing up the rear. 

"You promised to show me how to do it, Tim, " said Cameron. "Remember Ishall be very slow. "

"Oh, shucks!" replied Tim, "turnip-hoeing is as easy as rollin' off alog if yeh know how to do it. "

"Exactly!" cried Cameron, "but that is what I don't. You might give mesome pointers. "

"Well, you must be able to hit what yeh aim at. "

"Ah! that means a good eye and steady hand, " said Cameron. "Well, I cando billiards some and golf. What else?"

"Well, you mustn't be too careful, slash right in and don't give a rip. "

"Ah! nerve, eh!" said Cameron. "Well, I have done some Rugby in myday--I know something of that. What else? This sounds good. "

"Then you've got to leave only one turnip in one place and not a weed;and you mustn't leave any blanks. Dad gets hot over that. "

"Indeed, one turnip in each place and not a weed, " echoed Cameron. "Say!this business grows interesting. No blanks! Anything else?" he demanded. 

"No, I guess not, only if yeh ever git into a race ye've got to keepgoin' after you're clear tuckered out and never let on. You see theother chap may be feelin' worse than you. "

"By Jove, Tim! you're a born general!" exclaimed Cameron. "You willgo some distance if you keep on in that line. Now as to racing let meventure a word, for I have done a little in my time. Don't spurt toosoon. "

"Eh!" said Tim, all eagerness. 

"Don't get into your racing stride too early in the day, especially ifyou are up against a stronger man. Wait till you know you can stay tillthe end and then put your best licks in at the finish. "

Tim pondered. 

"By Jimminy! you're right, " he cried, a glad light in his eye, and atouch of colour in his pale cheek, and Cameron knew he was studying war. 

The turnip field, let it be said for the enlightening of the benightedand unfortunate city-bred folk, is laid out in a series of drills, adrill being a long ridge of earth some six inches in height, some eightinches broad on the top and twelve at the base. Upon each drill the seedhas been sown in one continuous line from end to end of the field. Whenthis seed has grown each drill will discover a line of delicate green, this line being nothing less than a compact growth of young turnipplants with weeds more or less thickly interspersed. The operation ofhoeing consists in the eliminating of the weeds and the superfluousturnip plants in order that single plants, free from weeds, may be leftsome eight inches apart in unbroken line, extending the whole lengthof the drill. The artistic hoer, however, is not content with this. His artistic soul demands not only that single plants should stand inunbroken row from end to end along the drill top, but that the drillitself should be pared down on each side to the likeness of a house roofwith a perfectly even ridge. 

"Ever hoe turnips?" enquired Perkins. 

"Never, " said Cameron, "and I am afraid I won't make much of a fist atit. "

"Well, you've come to a good place to learn, eh, Tim! We'll show him, won't we?"

Tim made no reply, but simply handed Cameron a hoe and picked up hisown. 

"Now, show me, Tim, " said Cameron in a low voice, as Perkins and Websterset off on their drills. 

"This is how you do it, " replied Tim. "Click-click, " forward and backwent Tim's sharp shining instrument, leaving a single plant standingshyly alone where had boldly bunched a score or more a moment before. "Click-click-click, " and the flat-topped drill stood free of weedsand superfluous turnip plants and trimmed to its proper roof-likeappearance. 

"I say!" exclaimed Cameron, "this is high art. I shall never reach yourclass, though, Tim. "

"Oh, shucks!" said Tim, "slash in, don't be afraid. " Cameron slashed in. "Click-click, " "Click-click-click, " when lo! a long blank space of drilllooked up reproachfully at him. 

"Oh, Tim! look at this mess, " he said in disgust. 

"Never mind!" said Tim, "let her rip. Better stick one in though. Blanks look bad at the END of the drill. " So saying, he made a hole inCameron's drill and with his hoe dug up a bunch of plants fromanother drill and patted them firmly into place, and, weeding out theunnecessary plants, left a single turnip in its proper place. 

"Oh, come, that isn't so bad, " said Cameron. "We can always fill up theblanks. "

"Yes, but it takes time, " replied Tim, evidently with the racing feverin his blood. Patiently Tim schooled his pupil throughout the forenoon, and before the dinner hour had come Cameron was making what to Timappeared satisfactory progress. It was greatly in Cameron's favor thathe possessed a trained and true eye and a steady hand and that he wasquick in all his movements. 

"You're doin' splendid, " cried Tim, full of admiration. 

"I say, Scotty!" said Perkins, coming up and casting a critical eyealong Cameron's last drill, "you're going to make a turnip-hoer allright. "

"I've got a good teacher, you see, " cried Cameron. 

"You bet you have, " said Perkins. "I taught Tim myself, and in two orthree years he'll be almost as good as I am, eh, Tim!"

"Huh!" grunted Tim, contemptuously, but let it go at that. 

"Perhaps you think you're that now, eh, Tim?" said Perkins, seizingthe boy by the back of the neck and rubbing his hand over his hair in amanner perfectly maddening. "Don't you get too perky, young feller, orI'll hang your shirt on the fence before the day's done. "

Tim wriggled out of his grasp and kept silent. He was not yet ready withhis challenge. All through the afternoon he stayed behind with Cameron, allowing the other two to help them out at the end of each drill, but asthe day wore on there was less and less need of assistance for Cameron, for he was making rapid progress with his work and Tim was able to do, not only his own drill, but almost half of Cameron's as well. By suppertime Cameron was thoroughly done out. Never had a day seemed so long, never had he known that he possessed so many muscles in his back. Thecontinuous stooping and the steady click-click of the hoe, together withthe unceasing strain of hand and eye, and all this under the hot burningrays of a June sun, so exhausted his vitality that when the cow bellrang for supper it seemed to him a sound more delightful than thestrains of a Richter orchestra in a Beethoven symphony. 

On the way back to the field after supper Cameron observed that Tim wasin a state of suppressed excitement and it dawned upon him that the hourof his challenge of Perkins' supremacy as a turnip-hoer was at hand. 

"I say, Tim, boy!" he said earnestly, "listen to me. You are going toget after Perkins this evening, eh?"

"How did you know?" said Tim, in surprise. 

"Never mind! Now listen to me; I have raced myself some and I havetrained men to race. Are you not too tired with your day's work?"

"Tired! Not a bit, " said the gallant little soul scornfully. 

"Well, all right. It's nice and cool and you can't hurt yourself much. Now, how many drills do you do after supper as a rule?"

"Down and up twice, " said Tim. 

"How many drills can you do at your top speed, your very top speed, remember?"

"About two drills, I guess, " replied Tim, after a moment's thought. 

"Now, listen to me!" said Cameron impressively. "Go quietly for two anda half drills, then let yourself out and go your best. And, listen! Ihave been watching you this afternoon. You have easily done once anda half what Perkins has done and you are going to lick him out of hisboots. "

Tim gulped a moment or two, looked at his friend with glistening eyes, but said not a word. For the first two and a half drills Cameron exertedto the highest degree his conversational powers with the two-foldpurpose of holding back Perkins and Webster and also of so occupyingTim's mind that he might forget for a time the approaching conflict, thestrain of waiting for which he knew would be exhausting for the lad. But when the middle of the second last drill had been reached, Tim beganunconsciously to quicken his speed. 

"I say, Tim, " called Cameron, "come here! Am I getting these spaces toowide?" Tim came over to his side. "Now, Tim, " said Cameron, in a lowvoice, "wait a little longer; you can never wear him out. Your onlychance is in speed. Wait till the last drill. "

But Tim was not to be held back. Back he went to his place and with arush brought his drill up even with Webster, passed him, and in a fewmoments like a whirlwind passed Perkins and took the lead. 

"Hello, Timmy! where are you going?" asked Perkins, in surprise. 

"Home, " said Tim proudly, "and I'll tell 'em you're comin'. "

"All right, Timmy, my son!" replied Perkins with a laugh, "tell them youwon't need no hot bath; I'm after you. "

"Click-click, " "Click-click-click" was Tim's only answer. It was adistinct challenge, and, while not openly breaking into racing speed, Perkins accepted it. 

For some minutes Webster quickened his pace in an attempt to follow theleaders, but soon gave it up and fell back to help Cameron up with hisdrill, remarking, "I ain't no blamed fool. I ain't going to bust myselffor any man. THEY'RE racing, not me. "

"Will Tim win?" enquired Cameron. 

"Naw! Not this year! Why, Perkins is the best man in the whole countryat turnips. He took the Agricultural Society's prize two years ago. "

"I believe Tim will beat him, " said Cameron confidently, with his eyesupon the two in front. 

"Beat nothing!" said Webster. "You just wait a bit, Perkins isn'tletting himself out yet. "

In a short time Tim finished his drill some distance ahead, and then, though it was quitting time, without a pause he swung into the next. 

"Hello, Timmy!" cried Perkins good-naturedly, "going to work all night, eh? Well, I'll just take a whirl out of you, " and for the first time hefrankly threw himself into his racing gait. 

"Good boy, Tim!" called out Cameron, as Tim bore down upon them, stillin the lead and going like a small steam engine. "You're all right andgoing easy. Don't worry!"

But Perkins, putting on a great spurt, drew up within a hoe-handlelength of Tim and there held his place. 

"All right, Tim, my boy, you can hold him, " cried Cameron, as the racerscame down upon him. 

"He can, eh?" replied Perkins. "I'll show him and you, " and with anaccession of speed he drew up on a level with Tim. 

"Ah, ha! Timmy, my boy! we've got you where we want you, I guess, " heexulted, and, with a whoop and still increasing his speed, he drew pastthe boy. 

But Cameron, who was narrowly observing the combatants and their work, called out again:

"Don't worry, Tim, you're doing nice clean work and doing it easily. "The inference was obvious, and Perkins, who had been slashing wildly andleaving many blanks and weeds behind him where neither blanks nor weedsshould be, steadied down somewhat, and, taking more pains with his work, began to lose ground, while Tim, whose work was without flaw, movedagain to the front place. There remained half a drill to be done and theissue was still uncertain. With half the length of a hoe handle betweenthem the two clicked along at a furious pace. Tim's hat had fallen off. His face showed white and his breath was coming fast, but there was noslackening of speed, and the cleanness and ease with which he was doinghis work showed that there was still some reserve in him. They wereapproaching the last quarter when, with a yell, Perkins threw himselfagain with a wild recklessness into his work, and again he gained uponTim and passed him. 

"Steady, Tim!" cried Cameron, who, with Webster, had given up their ownwork, it being, as the latter remarked, "quitting time anyway, " andwere following up the racers. "Don't spoil your work, Tim!" continuedCameron, "don't worry. "

His words caught the boy at a critical moment, for Perkins' yell andhis fresh exhibition of speed had shaken the lad's nerve. But Cameron'svoice steadied him, and, quickly responding, Tim settled down again intohis old style, while Perkins was still in the lead, but slashing wildly. 

"Fine work, Tim, " said Cameron quietly, "and you can do better yet. " Fora few paces he walked behind the boy, steadying him now and then witha quiet word, then, recognising that the crisis of the struggle was athand, and believing that the boy had still some reserve of speed andstrength, he began to call on him. 

"Come on, Tim! Quicker, quicker; come on, boy, you can do better!" Hiswords, and his tone more than his words, were like a spur to the boy. From some secret source of supply he called up an unsuspected reserveof strength and speed and, still keeping up his clean cutting finishedstyle, foot by foot he drew away from Perkins, who followed in the rear, slashing more wildly than ever. The race was practically won. Tim waswell in the lead, and apparently gaining speed with every click of hishoe. 

"Here, you fellers, what are yeh hashin' them turnips for?" It wasHaley's voice, who, unperceived, had come into the field. Tim's replywas a letting out of his last ounce of strength in a perfect fury ofendeavour. 

"There--ain't--no--hashin'--on this--drill--Dad!" he panted. 

The sudden demand for careful work, however, at once lowered Perkins'rate of speed. He fell rapidly behind and, after a few moments offurther struggle, threw down his hoe with a whoop and called out, "Quitting time, I guess, " and, striding after Tim, he caught him by thearms and swung him round clear off the ground. 

"Here, let me go!" gasped the boy, kicking, squirming, and trying tostrike his antagonist with his hoe. 

"Let the boy go!" said Cameron. The tone in his voice arrested Perkins'attention. 

"What's your business?" he cried, with an oath, dropping the boy andturning fiercely upon Cameron. 

"Oh, nothing very much, except that Tim's my candidate in this race andhe mustn't be interfered with, " replied Cameron in a voice still quietand with a pleasant smile. 

Perkins was white and panting; in a moment more he would have hurledhimself at the man who stood smiling quietly in his face. At thiscritical moment Haley interposed. 

"What's the row, boys?" he enquired, recognising that something seriouswas on. 

"We have been having a little excitement, Sir, in the form of a race, "replied Cameron, "and I've been backing Tim. "

"Looks as if you've got him wound up so's he can't stop, " replied Haley, pointing to the boy, who was still going at racing pace and was justfinishing his drill. "Oh, well, a boy's a boy and you've got to humourhim now and then, " continued Haley, making conversation with diplomaticskill. Then turning to Perkins, as if dismissing a trivial subject, headded, "Looks to me as if that hay in the lower meadow is pretty nighfit to cut. Guess we'd better not wait till next week. You best startTim on that with the mower in the mornin'. " Then, taking a survey of theheavens, he added, "Looks as if it might be a spell of good weather. "His diplomacy was successful and the moment of danger was past. MeantimeCameron had sauntered to the end of the drill where Tim stood leaningquietly on his hoe. 

"Tim, you are a turnip-hoer!" he said, with warm admiration in histone, "and what's more, Tim, you're a sport. I'd like to handle you insomething big. You will make a man yet. "

Tim's whole face flushed a warm red under the coat of freckles. For atime he stood silently contemplating the turnips, then with difficultyhe found his voice. 

"It was you done it, " he said, choking over his words. "I was beat thereand was just quittin' when you came along and spoke. My!" he continued, with a sharp intake of his breath, "I was awful near quittin', " andthen, looking straight into Cameron's eyes, "It was you done it, and--I--won't forget. " His voice choked again, but, reading his eyes, Cameron knew that he had gained one of life's greatest treasures, aboy's adoring gratitude. 

"This has been a great day, Tim, " said Cameron. "I have learned to hoeturnips, and, " putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, "I believe I havemade a friend. " Again the hot blood surged into Tim's face. He stoodvoiceless, but he needed no words. Cameron knew well the passionateemotion that thrilled his soul and shook the slight body, tremblingunder his hand. For Tim, too, it had been a notable day. He had achievedthe greatest ambition of his life in beating the best turnip-hoer on theline, and he, too, had found what to a boy is a priceless treasure, aman upon whom he could lavish the hero worship of his soul. 

CHAPTER IV

A RAINY DAY

It was haying time. Over the fields of yellowing fall wheat and barley, of grey timothy and purple clover, the heat shimmered in dancing waves. Everywhere the growing crops were drinking in the light and heat witheager thirst, for the call of the harvest was ringing through the land. The air was sweet with scents of the hay fields, and the whole countryside was humming with the sound of the mowers. It was the crowning timeof the year; toward this season all the life of the farm moved steadilythe whole year long; the next two months or three would bring to thefarmer the fruit of long days of toil and waiting. Every minute of theseharvest days, from the early grey dawn, when Mandy called the cows infor the milking, till the long shadows from the orchard lay quite acrossthe wide barley field, when Tim, handling his team with careless pride, drove in the last load for the day, every minute was packed full of lifeand action. But though busy were the days and full of hard and at timesback-breaking and nerve-straining work, what of it? The colour, therush, the eager race with the flying hours, the sense of triumph, thepromise of wealth, the certainty of comfort, all these helped to carryoff the heaviest toil with a swing and vim that banished aches from thebody and weariness from the soul. 

To Cameron, all unskilled as he was, the days brought many an hour ofstrenuous toil, but every day his muscles were knitting more firmly, hishands were hardening, and his mastery of himself growing more complete. 

In haying there is no large place for skill. This operation, unlike thatof turnip-hoeing, demands chiefly strength, quickness, and endurance, and especially endurance. To stand all day in the hay field under theburning sun with its rays leaping back from the super-heated ground, androll up the windrows into huge bundles and toss them on to the wagon, or to run up a long line of cocks and heave them fork-handle high to thetop of a load, calls for something of skill, but mainly for strengthof arm and back. But skill had its place, and once more it was Tim whostood close to Cameron and showed him all the tricks of pitching hay. Itwas Tim who showed him how to stand with his back to the wagon so as toget the load properly poised with the least expenditure of strength; itwas Tim who taught him the cunning trick of using his thigh as a fulcrumin getting his load up, rather than doing it by "main strength andawkwardness"; it was Tim who demonstrated the method of lifting half acock by running the end of the fork handle into the ground so that thewhole earth might aid in the hoisting of the load. Of course in allthis Cameron's intelligence and quickness stood him in the place of longexperience, and before the first day's hauling was done he was able tokeep his wagon going. 

But with all the stimulus of the harvest movement and colour, Cameronfound himself growing weary of the life on the Haley farm. It was notthe long days, and to none on the farm were the days longer than toCameron, who had taken upon himself the duty of supplying the kitchenwith wood and water, no small business, either at the beginning or atthe end of a long day's work; it was not the heavy toil; it was chieflythe continuous contact with the dirt and disorder of his environmentthat wore his body down and his spirit raw. No matter with how keen ahunger did he approach the dinner table, the disgusting filth everywhereapparent would cause his gorge to rise and, followed by the cheerfulgibes of Perkins, he would retire often with his strength unrecruitedand his hunger unappeased, and, though he gradually achieved a certainskill in picking his way through a meal, selecting such articles of foodas could be less affected than others by the unsavoury surroundings, the want of appetising and nourishing food told disastrously upon hisstrength. His sleep, too, was broken and disturbed by the necessity ofsharing a bed with Webster. He had never been accustomed to "doublingup, " and under the most favourable circumstances the experience wouldnot have been conducive to sound sleep, but Webster's manner of life wasnot such as to render him an altogether desirable bed-fellow. For, whilethe majority of farm lads in the neighbourhood made at least semi-weeklypilgrimages to the "dam" for a swim, Webster felt no necessity laid uponhim for such an expenditure of energy after a hard and sweaty day in thefield. His ideas of hygiene were of the most elementary nature; henceit was his nightly custom, when released from the toils of the day, to proceed upstairs to his room and, slipping his braces from hisshoulders, allow his nether garments to drop to the floor and, withoutfurther preparation, roll into bed. Of the effeminacy of a night robeWebster knew nothing except by somewhat hazy rumour. Once under thepatchwork quilt he was safe for the night, for, heaving himself into themiddle of the bed, he sank into solid and stertorous slumber, from whichall Cameron's prods and kicks failed to arouse him till the grey dawnonce more summoned him to life, whereupon, resuming the aforesaidnether garments, he was once more simply, but in his opinion quitesufficiently, equipped for his place among men. Many nights did ithappen that the stertorous melody of Webster's all too odourous slumbersdrove Cameron to find a bed upon the floor. Once again Tim was hisfriend, for it was to Tim that Cameron owed the blissful experience of anight in the hay loft upon the newly harvested hay. There, buried inits fragrant depths and drawing deep breaths of the clean unbreathed airthat swept in through the great open barn doors, Cameron experienceda joy hitherto undreamed of in association with the very commonplaceexercise of sleep. After his first night in the hay mow, which he sharedwith Tim, he awoke refreshed in body and with a new courage in hisheart. 

"By Jove, Tim! That's the finest thing I ever had in the way of sleep. Now if we only had a tub. "

"Tub! What for?"

"A dip, my boy, a splash. "

"To wash in?" enquired Tim, wondering at the exuberance of his friend'sdesires. "I'll get a tub, " he added, and, running to the house, returnedwith wash tub and towel. 

"Tim, my boy, you're a jewel!" exclaimed Cameron. 

From the stable cistern they filled the vessel full and first Cameronand, after persuasion and with rather dubious delight, Tim tasted thejoy of a morning tub. Henceforth life became distinctly more endurableto Cameron. 

But, more than all the other irritating elements in his environmentput together, Cameron chafed under the unceasing rasp of Perkins' wit, clever, if somewhat crude and cumbrous. Perkins had never forgotten norforgiven his defeat at the turnip-hoeing, which he attributed chiefly toCameron. His gibes at Cameron's awkwardness in the various operationson the farm, his readiness to seize every opportunity for ridicule, hisskill at creating awkward situations, all these sensibly increased thewear on Cameron's spirit. All these, however, Cameron felt he could putup with without endangering his self-control, but when Perkins, withvulgar innuendo, chaffed the farmer's daughter upon her infatuationfor the "young Scotty, " as he invariably designated Cameron, or whenhe rallied Cameron upon his supposed triumph in the matter of Mandy'syouthful affections, then Cameron raged and with difficulty kept hishands from his cheerful and ever smiling tormentor. It did nothelp matters much that apparently Mandy took no offense at Perkins'insinuations; indeed, it gradually dawned upon Cameron that what to himwould seem a vulgar impertinence might to this uncultured girl appear nomore than a harmless pleasantry. At all costs he was resolved that underno circumstances would he allow his self-control to be broken through. He would finish out his term with the farmer without any violentoutbreak. It was quite possible that Perkins and others would take himfor a chicken-hearted fool, but all the same he would maintain thisattitude of resolute self-control to the very end. After all, whatmattered the silly gibes of an ignorant boor? And when his term was donehe would abandon the farm life forever. It took but little calculationto make quite clear that there was not much to hope for in the wayof advancement from farming in this part of Canada. Even Perkins, whoreceived the very highest wage in that neighbourhood, made no more than$300 a year; and, with land at sixty to seventy-five dollars per acre, it seemed to him that he would be an old man before he could become theowner of a farm. He was heart sick of the pettiness and sordidness ofthe farm life, whose horizon seemed to be that of the hundred acres orso that comprised it. Therefore he resolved that to the great West hewould go, that great wonderful West with its vast spaces and its vastpossibilities of achievement. The rumour of it filled the country side. Meantime for two months longer he would endure. 

A rainy day brought relief. Oh, the blessed Sabbath of a rainy day, whenthe wheels stop and silence falls in the fields; and time tired harvesthands recline at ease upon the new cut and sweet smelling hay on thebarn floor, and through the wide open doors look out upon the fallingrain that roars upon the shingles, pours down in cataracts from theeaves and washes clean the air that wanders in, laden with those subtlescents that old mother earth releases only when the rain falls. Oh, happy rainy days in harvest time when, undisturbed by conscience, theweary toilers stretch and slumber and wake to lark and chaff in carelessease the long hours through!

In the Haleys' barn they were all gathered, gazing lazily and withundisturbed content at the steady downpour that indicated an all-dayrest. Even Haley, upon whose crops the rain was teeming down, wasenjoying the rest from the toil, for most of the hay that had been cutwas already in cock or in the barn. Besides, Haley worked as hard as thebest of them and welcomed a day's rest. So let it rain!

While they lay upon the hay on the barn floor, with tired musclesall relaxed, drinking in the fragrant airs that stole in from therain-washed skies outside, in the slackening of the rain two neighboursdropped in, big "Mack" Murray and his brother Danny, for a "crack" aboutthings in general and especially to discuss the Dominion Day picnicwhich was coming off at the end of the following week. This picnicwas to be something out of the ordinary, for, in addition to the usualfeasting and frolicking, there was advertised an athletic contest ofa superior order, the prizes in which were sufficiently attractiveto draw, not only local athletes, but even some of the best from theneighbouring city. A crack runner was expected and perhaps even McGee, the big policeman of the London City force, a hammer thrower of fame, might be present. 

"Let him come, eh, Mack?" said Perkins. "I guess we ain't afraid of nocity bug beating you with the hammer. "

"Oh! I'm no thrower, " said Mack modestly. "I just take the thing up andgive it a fling. I haven't got the trick of it at all. "

"Have you practised much?" said Cameron, whose heart warmed at theaccent that might have been transplanted that very day from his ownNorth country. 

"Never at all, except now and then at the blacksmith's shop on a rainyday, " replied Mack. "Have you done anything at it?"

"Oh, I have seen a good deal of it at the games in the north ofScotland, " replied Cameron. 

"Man! I wish we had a hammer and you could show me the trick of it, "said Mack fervently, "for they will be looking to me to throw and I donot wish to be beaten just too easily. "

"There's a big mason's hammer, " said Tim, "in the tool house, I think. "

"Get it, Tim, then, " said Mack eagerly, "and we will have a littlepractise at it, for throw I must, and I have no wish to bring discrediton my country, for it will be a big day. They will be coming from allover. The Band of the Seventh is coming out and Piper Sutherland fromZorra will be there. "

"A piper!" echoed Cameron. "Is there much pipe playing in this country?"

"Indeed, you may say that!" said Mack, "and good pipers they are too, they tell me. Piper Sutherland, I think, was of the old Forty-twa. Areyou a piper, perhaps?" continued Mack. 

"Oh, I play a little, " said Cameron. "I have a set in the house. "

"God bless my soul!" cried Mack, "and we never knew it. Tell Danny wherethey are and he will fetch them out. Go, Danny!"

"Never mind, I will get them myself, " said Cameron, trying to concealhis eagerness, for he had long been itching for a chance to play and hisfingers were now tingling for the chanter. 

It was an occasion of great delight, not only to big Mack and hisbrother Danny and the others, but to Cameron himself. Up and down thefloor he marched, making the rafters of the big barn ring with theancient martial airs of Scotland and then, dropping into a lighterstrain, he set their feet a-rapping with reels and strathspeys. 

"Man, yon's great playing!" cried Mack with fervent enthusiasm to thecompany who had gathered to the summons of the pipes from the house andfrom the high road, "and think of him keeping them in his chest all thistime! And what else can you do?" went on Mack, with the enthusiasm of adiscoverer. "You have been in the big games, too, I warrant you. "

Cameron confessed to some experience of these thrilling events. 

"Bless my soul! We will put you against the big folk from the city. Comeand show us the hammer, " said Mack, leading the way out of the barn, forthe rain had ceased, with a big mason's hammer in his hand. It neededbut a single throw to make it quite clear to Cameron that Mack wasgreatly in need of coaching. As he said himself he "just took up thething and gave it a fling. " A mighty fling, too, it proved to be. 

"Twenty-eight paces!" cried Cameron, and then, to make sure, steppedit back again. "Yes, " he said, "twenty-eight paces, nearly twenty-nine. Great Caesar! Mack, if you only had the Braemar swing you would be afamous thrower. "

"Och, now, you are just joking me!" said Mack modestly. 

"You can add twenty feet easily to your throw if you get the swing, "asserted Cameron. "Look here, now, get this swing, " and Camerondemonstrated in his best style the famous Braemar swing. 

"Thirty-two paces!" said Mack in amazement after he had measured thethrow. "Man alive! you can beat McGee, let alone myself. "

"Now, Mack, get the throw, " said Cameron, with enthusiasm. "You will bea great thrower. " But try though he might Mack failed to get the swing. 

"Man, come over to-night and bring your pipes. Danny will fetch out hisfiddle and we will have a bit of a frolic, and, " he added, as if in anafterthought, "I have a big hammer yonder, the regulation size. We mighthave a throw or so. "

"Thanks, I will be sure to come, " said Cameron eagerly. 

"Come, all of you, " said Mack, "and you too, Mandy. We will clear outthe barn floor and have a regular hoe-down. "

"Oh, pshaw!" giggled Mandy, tossing her head. "I can't dance. "

"Oh, come along and watch me, then, " said Mack, in good humour, who, with all his two hundred pounds, was lightfooted as a girl. 

The Murrays' new big bank barn was considered the finest in the countryand the new floor was still quite smooth and eminently suited to a"hoe-down. " Before the darkness had fallen, however, Mack drew Cameron, with Danny, Perkins, and a few of the neighbours who had dropped in, outto the lane and, giving him a big hammer, "Try that, " he said, with somedoubt in his tone. 

Cameron took the hammer. 

"This is the right thing. The weight of it will make more difference tome, however, than to you, Mack. "

"Oh, I'm not so sure, " said Mack. "Show us how you do it. "

The first throw Cameron took easily. 

"Twenty-nine paces!" cried Mack, after stepping it off. "Man! that's agreat throw, and you do it easy. "

"Not much of a throw, " laughed Cameron. "Try it yourself. "

Ignoring the swing, Mack tried the throw in his own style and hurled thehammer two paces beyond Cameron's throw. 

"You did that with your arms only, " said Cameron. "Now you must put legsand shoulders into it. "

"Let's see you beat that throw yourself, " laughed Perkins, who was by nomeans pleased with the sudden distinction that had come to the "Scotty. "

Cameron took the hammer and, with the easy slow grace of the Braemarswing, made his throw. 

"Hooray!" yelled Danny, who was doing the measuring. "You got it yontime for sure. Three paces to the good. You'll have to put your backinto it, Mack, I guess. "

Once more Mack seized the hammer. Then Cameron took Mack in hand and, over and over again, coached him in the poise and swing. 

"Now try it, and think of your legs and back. Let the hammer take careof itself. Now, nice and easy and slow, not far this time. "

Again and again Mack practised the swing. 

"You're getting it!" cried Cameron enthusiastically, "but you are tryingtoo hard. Forget the distance this time and think only of the easy slowswing. Let your muscles go slack. " So he coached his pupil. 

At length, after many attempts, Mack succeeded in delivering his hammeraccording to instructions. 

"Man! you are right!" he exclaimed. "That's the trick of it and it is assmooth as oil. "

"Keep it up, Mack, " said Cameron, "and always easy. "

Over and over again he put the big man through the swing till he beganto catch the notion of the rhythmic, harmonious cooperation of thevarious muscles in legs and shoulders and arms so necessary to thehighest result. 

"You've got the swing, Mack, " at length said Cameron. "Now then, thistime let yourself go. Don't try your best, but let yourself out. Easy, now, easy. Get it first in your mind. "

For a moment Mack stood pondering. He was "getting it in his mind. "Then, with a long swing, easy and slow, he gave the great hammer amighty heave. With a shout the company crowded about. 

"Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven!Hooray! bully for you, Mack. You are the lad!"

"Get the line on it, " said Mack quietly. The measuring line showedone hundred and eleven and a half feet. The boys crowded round him, exclaiming, cheering, patting him on the back. Mack received thecongratulations in silence, then, turning to Cameron, said veryearnestly:

"Man! yon's as easy as eating butter. You have done me a good turnto-day. "

"Oh, that's nothing, Mack, " said Cameron, who was more pleased than anyof them. "You got the swing perfectly that time. You can put twentyfeet to that throw. One hundred and eleven feet! Why, I can beat thatmyself. "

"Man alive! Do you tell me now!" said Mack in amazement, running hiseyes over Cameron's lean muscular body. 

"I have done it often when I was in shape. "

"Oh, rats!" said Perkins with a laugh. "Where was that?"

Cameron flushed a deep red, then turned pale, but kept silent. 

"I believe you, my boy, " said Mack with emphasis and facing sharply uponPerkins, "and if ever I do a big throw I will owe it to you. "

"Oh, come off!" said Perkins, again laughing scornfully. "There areothers that know the swing besides Scotty here. What you have got youowe to no one but yourself, Mack. "

"If I beat the man McGee next week, " said Mack quietly, "it will be fromwhat I learned to-night, and I know what I am saying. Man! it's a luckything we found you. But that will do for just now. Come along to thebarn. Hooray for the pipes and the lassies! They are worth all thehammers in the world!" And, putting his arm through Cameron's, he ledthe way to the barn, followed by the others. 

"If Scotty could only hoe turnips and tie wheat as well as he can playthe pipes and throw the hammer, " said Perkins to the others as theyfollowed in the rear, "I guess he'd soon have us all leaning against thefence to dry. "

"He will, too, some day, " said Tim, whose indignation at Perkinsovercame the shyness which usually kept him silent in the presence ofolder men. 

"Hello, Timmy! What are you chipping in for?" said Perkins, reaching forthe boy's coat collar. "He thinks this Scotty is the whole works, and heis great too--at showing people how to do things. "

"I hear he showed Tim how to hoe turnips, " said one of the boys slyly. The laugh that followed showed that the story of Tim's triumph over thechampion had gone abroad. 

"Oh, rot!" said Perkins angrily. "Tim's got a little too perky because Ilet him get ahead of me one night in a drill of turnips. "

"Yeh done yer best, didn't he, Webster?" cried Tim with indignation. 

"Well, he certainly was making some pretty big gashes in them drills, "said Webster slowly. 

"Oh, get out!" replied Perkins. "Though all the same Tim's quite aturnip-hoer, " he conceded. "Hello! There's quite a crowd in the barn, Danny. I wish I had my store clothes on. "

At this a girl came running to meet them. 

"Come on, Danny! Tune up. I can hardly keep my heels on my boots. "

"Oh, you'll not be wanting my little fiddle after you have heard Cameronon the pipes, Isa. "

"Never you fear that, Danny, " replied Isa, catching him by the arm andhurrying him onward. 

"Wait a minute. I want you to meet Mr. Cameron, " said Danny. 

"Come away, then, " replied Isa. "I am dying to get done with it and getthe fiddle going. "

But Cameron was in the meantime engaged, for Mack was busy introducinghim to a bevy of girls who stood at one corner of the barn floor. 

"My! but he's a braw lad!" said Isa gayly, as she watched Cameron makinghis bows. 

"Yes, he is that, " replied Danny with enthusiastic admiration, "and ahammer-thrower, too, he is. "

"What! yon stripling?"

"You may say it. He can beat Mack there. "

"Mack!" cried Isa, with scorn. "It's just big lies you are telling me. "

"Indeed, he has beaten Mack's best throw many a time. "

"And how do you know?" exclaimed Isa. 

"He said so himself. "

"Ah ha!" said Isa scornfully. "He is good at blowing his own hornwhatever, and I don't believe he can beat Mack--and I don't like him abit, " she continued, her dark eyes flashing and the red colour glowingin her full round cheek. 

"Come, Isa!" cried Mack, catching sight of her in the dim light. "Comehere, I want Mr. Cameron to meet you. "

"How do you do?" said the girl, giving Cameron her hand and glancingsaucily into his face. "I hear you are a piper and a hammer-thrower andaltogether a wonderful man. "

"A wonderfully lucky man, to have the pleasure of meeting you, " saidCameron, glancing boldly back at her. 

"And I am sure you can dance the fling, " continued Isa. "All theHighlanders do. "

"Not all, " said Cameron. "But with certain partners all Highlanderswould love to try. "

"Oh aye, " with a soft Highland accent that warmed Cameron's blood. "Isee you have the tongue. Come away, Danny, now, strike up, or I will goon without you. " And the girl kilted her skirts and began a reel, andas Mack's eyes followed her every step there was no mistaking theirexpression. To Mack there was only one girl in the barn, or in all theworld for that matter, and that was the leal-hearted, light-footed, black-eyed Isa MacKenzie. Bonnie she was, and that she well knew, thebelle of the whole township, driving the men to distraction and for allthat holding the love of her own sex as well. But her heart was stillher own, or at least she thought it was, for all big Mack Murray's openand simple-hearted adoration, and she was ready for a frolic with anyman who could give her word for word or dance with her the Highlandreel. 

With the courtesy of a true gentleman, Danny led off with his fiddletill they had all got thoroughly into the spirit and swing of thefrolic, and then, putting his instrument back into its bag, he declaredthat they were all tired of it and were waiting for the pipes. 

"Not a bit of it!" cried Isa. "But we will give you a rest, Danny, andbesides I want to dance a reel with you myself--though Mr. Cameron isnot bad, " she added, with a little bow to Cameron, with whom she hadjust finished a reel. 

Readily enough Cameron tuned his pipes, for he was aching to get at themand only too glad to furnish music for the gay company of kindly heartedfolk who were giving him his first evening's pleasure since he had leftthe Cuagh Oir. 

From reel to schottische and from schottische to reel, foursome andeightsome, they kept him playing, ever asking for more, till thegloaming passed into moonlight and still they were not done. The respitecame through Mandy, who, solid in weight and heavy of foot, had labouredthrough the reels as often as she could get a partner, and at othertimes had sat gazing in rapt devotion upon the piper. 

"Whoop her up again, Scotty!" cried Perkins, when Cameron paused at theend of a reel. 

"Don't you do it!" said Mandy sharply, her deep voice booming throughthe barn. "He's just tired of it, and I'm tired looking at him. "

There was a shout of laughter which covered poor Mandy with wrathfulconfusion. 

"Good for you, Mandy, " cried Perkins with a great guffaw. "You want somemusic now, don't you? So do I. Come on, Danny. "

"No, I don't, " snapped Mandy, who could understand neither the previouslaugh nor that which greeted Perkins' sally. 

"Allan, " she said, sticking a little over the name, "is tired out, andbesides it's time we were going home. "

"That's right, take him home, Mandy, and put the little dear to bed, "said Perkins. 

"You needn't be so smart, Joe Perkins, " said Mandy angrily. "Anyway I'mgoing home. I've got to be up early. "

"Me too, Mandy, " said Cameron, packing up his pipes, for his sympathyhad been roused for the girl who was championing him so bravely. "Ihave had a great night and I have played you all to death; but you willforgive me. I was lonely for the chanter. I have not touched it since Ileft home. "

There was a universal cry of protest as they gathered about him. 

"Indeed, Mr. Cameron, you have given us all a rare treat, " cried Isa, coming close to him, "and I only wish you could pipe and dance at thesame time. "

"That's so!" cried Mack, "but what's the matter with the fiddle, Isa?Come, Danny, strike up. Let them have a reel together. "

Cameron glanced at Mandy, who was standing impatiently waiting. Perkinscaught the glance. 

"Oh, please let him stay, Mandy, " he pleaded. 

"He can stay if he likes, " sniffed Mandy scornfully. "I got no string onhim; but I'm goin' home. Good-night, everybody. "

"Good-night, Mandy, " called Perkins. "Tell them we're comin'. "

"Just a moment, Mandy!" said Cameron, "and I'm with you. Another timeI hope to do a reel with you, Miss MacKenzie, " he said, bidding hergood-night, "and I hope it will be soon. "

"Remember, then, " cried Isa, warmly shaking hands with him. "I will keepyou to your promise at the picnic. "

"Fine!" said Cameron, and with easy grace he made his farewells and setoff after Mandy, who by this time was some distance down the lane. 

"You needn't come for me, " she said, throwing her voice at him over hershoulder. 

"What a splendid night we have had!" said Cameron, ignoring her wrath. "And what awfully nice people. "

Mandy grunted and in silence continued her way down the lane, pickingher steps between the muddy spots and pools left by the rain. 

After some minutes Cameron, who was truly sorry for the girl, venturedto resume the conversation. 

"Didn't you enjoy the evening, Mandy?"

"No, I didn't!" she replied shortly. "I can't dance and they all knowit. "

"Why don't you learn, Mandy? You could dance if you practised. "

"I can't. I ain't like the other girls. I'm too clumsy. "

"Not a bit of it, " said Cameron. "I've watched you stepping about thehouse and you are not a bit clumsy. If you only practised a bit youwould soon pick up the schottische. "

"Oh, you're just saying that because you know I'm mad, " said Mandy, slightly mollified. 

"Not at all. I firmly believe it. I saw you try a schottische to-nightwith Perkins and--"

"Oh, shucks!" said Mandy. "He don't give me no show. He gets mad when Itramp on him. "

"All you want is practise, Mandy, " replied Cameron. 

"Oh, I ain't got no one to show me, " said Mandy. "Perkins he won't bebothered, and--and--there's no one else, " she added shyly. 

"Why, I--I would show you, " replied Cameron, every instinct ofchivalry demanding that he should play up to her lead, "if I had anyopportunity. "

"When?" said Mandy simply. 

"When?" echoed Cameron, taken aback. "Why, the first chance we get. "

As he spoke the word they reached the new bridge that crossed the deepditch that separated the lane from the high road. 

"Here's a good place right here on this bridge, " said Mandy with agiggle. 

"But we have no music, " stammered Cameron, aghast at the prospect of adancing lesson by moonlight upon the public highway. 

"Oh, pshaw!" said Mandy. "We don't need music. You can just count. Iseen Isa showin' Mack once and they didn't have no music. But, " sheadded, regarding Cameron with suspicion, "if you don't want to--"

"Oh, I shall be glad to, but wouldn't the porch be better?" he repliedin desperation. 

"The porch! That's so, " assented Mandy eagerly. "Let's hurry before therest come home. " So saying, she set off at a great pace, followedby Cameron ruefully wondering to what extent the lesson in theTerpsichorean art might be expected to go. 

As soon as the porch was reached Mandy cried--

"Now let's at the thing. I'm going to learn that schottische if it costsa leg. "

Without stopping to enquire whose leg might be in peril, Cameronproceeded with his lesson, and he had not gone through many paces tillhe began to recognise the magnitude of the task laid upon him. Thegirl's sense of time was accurate enough, but she was undeniably awkwardand clumsy in her movements and there was an almost total absence ofcoordination of muscle and brain. She had, however, suffered too longand too keenly from her inability to join with the others in the danceto fail to make the best of her opportunity to relieve herself of thisserious disability. 

So, with fierce industry she poised, counted and hopped, according toCameron's instructions and example, with never a sign of weariness, butalas with little indication of progress. 

"Oh, shucks! I can't do it!" she cried at length, pausing in despair. "Ithink we could do it better together. That's the way Mack and Isa do it. I've seen them at it for an hour. "

Cameron's heart sank within him. He had caught an exchange of glancesbetween the two young people mentioned and he could quite understand howa lesson in the intricacies of the Highland schottische might very wellbe extended over an hour to their mutual satisfaction, but he shrankwith a feeling of dismay, if not disgust, from a like experience withthe girl before him. 

He was on the point of abruptly postponing the lesson when his eye fellupon her face as she stood in the moonlight which streamed in throughthe open door. Was it the mystic alchemy of the moon on her face, orwas it the glowing passion in her wonderful eyes that transfigured thecoarse features? A sudden pity for the girl rose in Cameron's heart andhe said gently, "We will try it together, Mandy. "

He took her hand, put his arm about her waist, but, as he drew hertowards him, with a startled look in her eyes she shrank back sayinghurriedly:

"I guess I won't bother you any more to-night. You've been awfully goodto me. You're tired. "

"Not a bit, Mandy, come along, " replied Cameron briskly. 

At that moment a shadow fell upon the square of moonlight on the floor. Mandy started back with a cry. 

"My! you scairt me. We were--Allan--Mr. Cameron was learnin' me theHighland schottische. " Her face and her voice were full of fear. 

It was Perkins. White, silent, and rigid, he stood regarding them, forminutes, it seemed, then turned away. 

"Let's finish, " said Cameron quietly. 

"Oh! no, no!" said Mandy in a low voice. "He's awful mad! I'm scairt todeath! He'll do something! Oh! dear, dear! He's awful when he gets mad. "

"Nonsense!" said Cameron. "He can't hurt you. "

"No, but you!"

"Oh, don't worry about me. He won't hurt me. "

Cameron's tone arrested the girl's attention. 

"But promise me--promise me!" she cried, "that you won't touch him. " Sheclutched his arm in a fierce grip. 

"Certainly I won't touch him, " said Cameron easily, "if he behaveshimself. " But in his heart he was conscious of a fierce desire thatPerkins would give him the opportunity to wipe out a part at least ofthe accumulated burden of insult he had been forced to bear during thelast three weeks. 

"Oh!" wailed Mandy, wringing her hands. "I know you're going to fighthim. I don't want you to! Do you hear me?" she cried, suddenly grippingCameron again by the arm and shaking him. "I don't want you to! Promiseme you won't!" She was in a transport of fear. 

"Oh, this is nonsense, Mandy, " said Cameron, laughing at her. "Therewon't be any fight. I'll run away. "

"All right, " replied the girl quietly, releasing his arm. "Remember youpromised. " She turned from him. 

"Good night, Mandy. We will finish our lesson another time, eh?" he saidcheerfully. 

"Good night, " replied Mandy, dully, and passed through the kitchen andinto the house. 

Cameron watched her go, then poured for himself a glass of milk from apitcher that always stood upon the table for any who might be returninghome late at night, and drank it slowly, pondering the situation thewhile. 

"What a confounded mess it is!" he said to himself. "I feel like cuttingthe whole thing. By Jove! That girl is getting on my nerves! And thatinfernal bounder! She seems to--Poor girl! I wonder if he has got anyhold on her. It would be the greatest satisfaction in the world to teachHIM a few things too. But I have made up my mind that I am not going toend up my time here with any row, and I'll stick to that; unless--" and, with a tingling in his fingers, he passed out into the moonlight. 

As he stepped out from the door a dark mass hurled itself at him, a handclutched at his throat, missed as he swiftly dodged back, and carriedaway his collar. It was Perkins, his face distorted, his white teethshowing in a snarl as of a furious beast. Again with a beast-like growlhe sprang, and again Cameron avoided him; while Perkins, missing hisclutch, stumbled over a block of wood and went crashing head first amonga pile of pots and pans and, still unable to recover himself and wildlygrasping whatever chanced to be within reach, fell upon the board thatstood against the corner of the porch to direct the rain into the tub;but the unstable board slid slowly down and allowed the unfortunatePerkins to come sitting in the tub full of water. 

"Very neatly done, Perkins!" cried Cameron, whose anger at the furiousattack was suddenly transformed into an ecstasy of delight at seeing theplight of his enemy. 

Like a cat Perkins was on his feet and, without a single moment's pause, came on again in silent fury. By an evil chance there lay in his paththe splitting axe, gleaming in the moonlight. Uttering a low chokingcry, as of joy, he seized the axe and sprang towards his foe. Quickerthan thought Cameron picked up a heavy arm chair that stood near theporch to use it as a shield against the impending attack. 

"Are you mad, Perkins?" he cried, catching the terrific blow that camecrashing down, upon the chair. 

Then, filled with indignant rage at the murderous attack upon him, andsuddenly comprehending the desperate nature of the situation, he sprangat his antagonist, thrusting the remnants of the chair in his face and, following hard and fast upon him, pushed him backward and still backwardtill, tripping once more, he fell supine among the pots and pans. Seizing the axe that had dropped from his enemy's hand, Cameron hurledit far beyond the wood pile and then stood waiting, a cold and deadlyrage possessing him. 

"Come on, you dog!" he said through his shut teeth. "You have beenneeding this for some time and now you'll get it. "

"What is it, Joe?"

Cameron quickly turned and saw behind him Mandy, her face blanched, hereyes wide, and her voice faint with terror. 

"Oh, nothing much, " said Cameron, struggling to recover himself. "Perkins stumbled over the tub among the pots and pans there. He madea great row, too, " he continued with a laugh, striving to get his voiceunder control. 

"What is it, Joe?" repeated Mandy, approaching Perkins. But Perkinsstood leaning against the corner of the porch in a kind of dazedsilence. 

"You've been fighting, " she said, turning upon Cameron. 

"Not at all, " said Cameron lightly, "but, if you must know, Perkins wentstumbling among these pots and pans and finally sat down in the tub; andnaturally he is mad. "

"Is that true, Joe?" said Mandy, moving slowly nearer him. 

"Oh, shut up, Mandy! I'm all wet, that's all, and I'm going to bed. "

His voice was faint as though he were speaking with an effort. 

"You go into the house, " he said to the girl. "I've got something to sayto Cameron here. "

"You are quarreling. "

"Oh, give us a rest, Mandy, and get out! No, there's no quarreling, butI want to have a talk with Cameron about something. Go on, now!"

For a few moments she hesitated, looking from one to the other. 

"It's all right, Mandy, " said Cameron quietly. "You needn't be afraid, there won't be any trouble. "

For a moment more she stood, then quietly turned away. 

"Wait!" said Perkins to Cameron, and followed Mandy into the house. Forsome minutes Cameron stood waiting. 

"Now, you murderous brute!" he said, when Perkins reappeared. "Come downto the barn where no girl can interfere. " He turned towards the barn. 

"Hold on!" said Perkins, breathing heavily. "Not to-night. I want to saysomething. She's waiting to see me go upstairs. "

Cameron came back. 

"What have you got to say, you cur?" he asked in a voice filled with acold and deliberate contempt. 

"Don't you call no names, " replied Perkins. "It ain't no use. " His voicewas low, trembling, but gravely earnest. "Say, I might have killed youto-night. " His breath was still coming in quick short gasps. 

"You tried your best, you dog!" said Cameron. 

"Don't you call no names, " panted Perkins again. "I might--a--killedyeh. I'm mighty--glad--I didn't. " He spoke like a man who had had agreat deliverance. "But don't yeh, " here his teeth snapped like a dog's, "don't yeh ever go foolin' with that girl again. Don't yeh--ever--doit. I seen yeh huggin' her in there and I tell yeh--I tell yeh--, " hisbreath began to come in sobs, "I won't stand it--I'll kill yeh, sure asGod's in heaven. "

"Are you mad?" said Cameron, scanning narrowly the white distorted face. 

"Mad? Yes, I guess so--I dunno--but don't yeh do it, that's all. She'smine! Mine! D'yeh hear?"

He stepped forward and thrust his snarling face into Cameron's. 

"No, I ain't goin' to touch yeh, " as Cameron stepped back into a postureof defense, "not to-night. Some day, perhaps. " Here again his teeth cametogether with a snap. "But I'm not going to have you or any otherman cutting in on me with that girl. D'yeh hear me?" and he lifted atrembling forefinger and thrust it almost into Cameron's face. 

Cameron stood regarding him in silent and contemptuous amazement. Neither of them saw a dark form standing back out of the moonlight, inside the door. At last Cameron spoke. 

"Now what the deuce does all this mean?" he said slowly. "Is this girlby any unhappy chance engaged to you?"

"Yes, she is--or was as good as, till you came; but you listen to me. AsGod hears me up there"--he raised his shaking hand and pointed up tothe moonlit sky, and then went on, chewing on his words like a dog ona bone--"I'll cut the heart out of your body if I catch you monkeyinground that girl again. You've got to get out of here! Everything was allright till you came sneaking in. You've got to get out! You've got toget out! D'yeh hear me? You've got to get out!"

His voice was rising, mad rage was seizing him again, his fingers wereopening and shutting like a man in a death agony. 

Cameron glanced towards the door. 

"I'm done, " said Perkins, noting the glance. "That's my last word. You'dbetter quit this job. " His voice again took on an imploring tone. "You'dbetter go or something will sure happen to you. Nobody will miss youmuch, except perhaps Mandy. " His ghastly face twisted into a snarlingsmile, his eyes appeared glazed in the moonlight, his voice washusky--the man seemed truly insane. 

Cameron stood observing him quietly when he had ceased speaking. 

"Are you finished? Then hear me. First, in regard to this girl, shedoesn't want me and I don't want her, but make up your mind, I promiseyou to do all I can to prevent her falling into the hands of a brutelike you. Then as to leaving this place, I shall go just when it suitsme, no sooner. "

"All right, " said Perkins, his voice low and trembling. "All right, mindI warned you! Mind I warned you! But if you go foolin' with that girl, I'll kill yeh, so help me God. "

These words he uttered with the solemnity of an oath and turned towardsthe porch. A dark figure flitted across the kitchen and disappeared intothe house. Cameron walked slowly towards the barn. 

"He's mad. He's clean daffy, but none the less dangerous, " he said tohimself. "What a rotten mess all this is!" he added in disgust. "ByJove! The whole thing isn't worth while. "

But as he thought of Mandy's frightened face and imploring eyes and thebrutal murderous face of the man who claimed her as his own, he saidbetween his teeth:

"No, I won't quit now. I'll see this thing through, whatever it costs, "and with this resolve he set himself to the business of getting tosleep; in which, after many attempts, he was at length successful. 

CHAPTER V

HOW THEY SAVED THE DAY

There never was such a Dominion Day for weather since the first DominionDay was born. Of this "Fatty" Freeman was fully assured. Fatty Freemanwas a young man for whose opinion older men were accustomed to wait. Hisperson more than justified his praenomen, for Mr. Harper Freeman, Jr. , was undeniably fat. "Fat, but fine and frisky, " was ever his own commentupon the descriptive adjective by which his friends distinguished him. And fine and frisky he was; fine in his appreciation of good eating, fine in his judgment of good cattle and fine in his estimate of men;frisky, too, and utterly irrepressible. "Harp's just like a young pup, "his own father, the Reverend Harper Freeman, the old Methodist ministerof the Maplehill circuit, used to say. "If Harp had a tail he wouldnever do anything but play with it. " On this, however, it is difficultto hold any well based opinion. Ebullient in his spirits, he radiatedcheeriness wherever he went and was at the bottom of most of thepractical jokes that kept the village of Maplehill in a state offerment; yet if any man thought to turn a sharp corner in business withMr. Harper Freeman, Jr. , he invariably found that frisky individualwaiting for him round the corner with a cheery smile of welcome, shrewdand disconcerting. It was this cheery shrewdness of his that made himthe most successful cattle buyer in the county and at the same timesecretary of the Middlesex Caledonian Society. As secretary of thissociety he was made chiefly responsible for the success of the DominionDay picnic and, as with everything that he took hold of, Fatty toiledat the business of preparation for this picnic with conscientious zeal, giving to it all his spare hours and many of his working hours for thethree months preceding. 

It was due solely to his efforts that so many distinguished countymagnates appeared eager to lend their patronage. It needed but a littlepersuasion to secure the enthusiastic support of the Honourable J. J. Patterson, M. P. P. , and, incidentally, the handsome challenge cupfor hammer-throwing, for the honourable member of Parliament was afull-blooded Highlander himself and an ardent supporter of "the games. "But only Fatty Freeman's finesse could have extracted from Dr. Kane, theOpposition candidate for Provincial Parliamentary honours, the cup forthe hundred yards race, and other cups from other individuals more orless deeply interested in Dominion, Provincial, and Municipal politics. The prize list secured, it needed only a skillful manipulation of thelocal press and a judicious but persistent personal correspondenceto swell the ranks of the competitors in the various events, andthus ensure a monster attendance of the people from the neighbouringtownships and from the city near by. 

The weather being assured, Fatty's anxieties were mostly allayed, for hehad on the file in his office acceptance letters from the distinguishedmen who were to cast the spell of their oratory over the assembledmultitude, as also from the big men in the athletic world who hadentered for the various events in the programme of sports. It wasa master stroke of diplomacy that resulted in the securing for thehammer-throwing contest the redoubtable and famous Duncan Ross ofZorra, who had at first disdained the bait of the Maplehill Dominion Daypicnic, but in some mysterious way had at length been hooked and landed. For Duncan was a notable man and held the championship of the Zorras;and indeed in all Ontario he was second only to the world-famous RoryMaclennan of Glengarry, who had been to Braemar itself and was beatenthere only by a fluke. How he came to agree to be present at theMaplehill picnic "Black Duncan" could not quite understand, but had hecompared notes with McGee, the champion of the London police force andof various towns and cities of the western peninsula, he would doubtlesshave received some enlightenment. To the skill of the same master handwas due the appearance upon the racing list of the Dominion Day picnicof such distinguished names as Cahill of London, Fullerton of Woodstock, and especially of Eugene La Belle of nowhere in particular, who held theprovincial championship for skating and was a runner of provincial fame. 

In the racing Fatty was particularly interested because his youngbrother Wilbur, of whom he was uncommonly proud, a handsome lad, swiftand graceful as a deer, was to make his first essay for more than localhonours. 

The lists for the other events were equally well filled and everydetail of the arrangements for the day had passed under the secretary'spersonal review. The feeding of the multitude was in charge of theMethodist Ladies' Aid, an energetic and exceptionally businesslikeorganization, which fully expected to make sufficient profit from theenterprise to clear off the debt from their church at Maplehill, anachievement greatly desired not only by the ladies themselves but bytheir minister, the Reverend Harper Freeman, now in the third year ofhis incumbency. The music was to be furnished by the Band of theSeventh from London and by no less a distinguished personage than PiperSutherland himself from Zorra, former Pipe Major of "The old Forty-twa. "The discovery of another piper in Cameron brought joy to the secretary'sheart, who only regretted that an earlier discovery had not renderedpossible a pipe competition. 

Early in the afternoon the crowds began to gather to MacBurney's woods, a beautiful maple grove lying midway between the Haleys' farm andMaplehill village, about two miles distant from each. The grove ofnoble maple trees overlooking a grassy meadow provided an ideal spot forpicnicking, furnishing as it did both shade from the sun and a fine openspace with firm footing for the contestants in the games. High over anoble maple in the centre of the grassy meadow floated the Red Ensign ofthe Empire, which, with the Canadian coat of arms on the fly, by commonusage had become the national flag of Canada. From the great trees theswings were hung, and under their noble spreading boughs were placed thetables, and the platform for the speech making and the dancing, while atthe base of the encircling hills surrounding the grassy meadow, hard bythe grove another platform was placed, from which distinguishedvisitors might view with ease and comfort the contests upon the campusimmediately adjacent. 

Through the fence, let down for the purpose, the people drove infrom the high road. They came in top buggies and in lumber wagons, in democrats and in "three seated rigs, " while from the city came a"four-in-hand" with McGee, Cahill, and their backers, as well as othercarriages filled with good citizens of London drawn thither by thepromise of a day's sport of more than usual excellence or by the lureof a day in the woods and fields of God's open country. A speciallyfine carriage and pair, owned and driven by the honourable member ofParliament himself, conveyed Piper Sutherland, with colours streamingand pipes playing, to the picnic grounds. Warmly was the old piperwelcomed, not only by the frisky cheery secretary, but by many oldfriends, and by none more warmly than by the Reverend Alexander Munro, the douce old bachelor Presbyterian minister of Maplehill, a great loverof the pipes and a special friend of Piper Sutherland. But the welcomewas hardly over when once more the sound of the pipes was heard far upthe side line. 

"Surely that will be Gunn, " said Mr. Munro. 

Sutherland listened for a minute or two. 

"No, it iss not Gunn. Iss Ross coming? No, yon iss not Ross. Thatwill be a stranger, " he continued, turning to the secretary, butthe secretary remained silent, enjoying the old man's surprise andperplexity. 

"Man, that iss not so bad piping! Not so bad at all! Who iss it?" headded with some impatience, turning upon the secretary again. 

"Oh, that's Haley's team and I guess that's his hired man, a youngfellow just out from Scotland, " replied the secretary indifferently. "Iam no great judge of the pipes myself, but he strikes me as a crackajackand I shouldn't be surprised if he would make you all sit up. "

But the old piper's ear was closed to his words and open only to thestrains of music ever drawing nearer. 

"Aye, yon's a piper!" he said at length with emphasis. "Yon's a piper!"

"I only wish I had discovered him in time for a competition, " said Fattyregretfully. 

"Aye, " said Sutherland. "Yon's a piper worth playing against. "

And very brave and gallant young Cameron looked as Tim swung his teamthrough the fence and up to the platform under the trees where thegreat ones of the people were standing in groups. They were all there, Patterson the M. P. P. , and Dr. Kane the Opposition candidate, ReeveRobertson, for ten years the Municipal head of his county, InspectorGrant, a little man with a massive head and a luminous eye, Patterson'sunderstudy and generally regarded as his successor in Provincialpolitics, the Reverend Harper Freeman, Methodist minister, talland lank, with shrewd kindly face and a twinkling eye, the ReverendAlexander Munro, the Presbyterian minister, solid and sedate, slow totake fire but when kindled a very furnace for heat. These, with theirvarious wives and daughters, such as had them, and many others lessnotable but no less important, constituted a sort of informal receptioncommittee under Fatty Freeman's general direction and management. And here and there and everywhere crowds of young men and maidens, conspicuous among the latter Isa MacKenzie and her special friends, made merry with each other, as brave and gallant a company of sturdysun-browned youths and bonnie wholesome lassies as any land or age couldever show. 

"Look at them!" cried the Reverend Harper Freeman, waving his handtoward the kaleidoscopic gathering. "There's your Dominion Day orationfor you, Mr, Patterson. "

"Most of it done in brown, too, " chuckled his son, Harper Freeman, Jr. 

"Yes, and set in jewels and gold, " replied his father. 

"You hold over me, Dad!" cried his son. "Here!" he called to Cameron, who was standing aloof from the others. "Come and meet a brother Scotand a brother piper, Mr. Sutherland from Zorra, though to your ignorantScottish ear that means nothing, but to every intelligent Canadian, Zorra stands for all that's finest in brain and brawn in Canada. "

"And it takes both to play the pipes, eh, Sutherland?" said the M. P. P. 

"Oh aye, but mostly wind, " said the piper. 

"Just like politics, eh, Mr. Patterson?" said the Reverend HarperFreeman. 

"Yes, or like preaching, " replied the M. P. P. 

"One on you, Dad!" said the irrepressible Fatty. 

Meantime Sutherland was warmly complimenting Cameron on his playing. 

"You haf been well taught, " he said. 

"No one taught me, " said Cameron. "But we had a famous old piper at homein our Glen, Macpherson was his name. "

"Macpherson! Did he effer play at the Braemar gathering?"

"Yes, but Maclennan beat him. "

"Maclennan! I haf heard him. " The tone was quite sufficient to classifythe unhappy Maclennan. "And I haf heard Macpherson too. You iss aplayer. None of the fal-de-rals of your modern players, but grand andmighty. "

"I agree with you entirely, " replied Cameron, his heart warming atthe praise of his old friend of the Glen Cuagh Oir. "But, " he added, "Maclennan is a great player too. "

"A great player? Yes and no. He has the fingers and the notes, but heiss not the beeg man. It iss the soul that breathes through the chanter. The soul!" Here he gripped Cameron by the arm. "Man! it iss likepraying. A beeg man will neffer show himself in small things, but whenhe will be in communion with his Maker or when he will be pouring outhis soul in a pibroch then the beegness of the man will be manifest. Aye, " continued the piper, warming to his theme and encouraged by theeager sympathy of his listener, "and not only the beegness but thequality of the soul. A mean man can play the pipes, but he can nefferbe a piper. It iss only a beeg man and a fine man and, I will venture tosay, a good man, and there are not many men can be pipers. "

"Aye, Mr. Sutherland, " broke in the Reverend Alexander Munro, "what yousay is true, but it is true not only of piping. It is true surely ofanything great enough to express the deepest emotions of the soul. Aman is never at his best in anything till he is expressing his noblestself. "

"For instance in preaching, eh!" said Dr. Kane. 

"Aye, in preaching or in political oratory, " replied the minister. 

At this, however, the old piper shook his head doubtfully. 

"You do not agree with Mr. Munro in that?" said the M. P. P. 

"No, " replied Sutherland, "speaking iss one thing, piping iss another. "

"And that is no lie, and a mighty good thing too it is, " said Dr. Kaneflippantly. 

"It iss no lie, " replied the old piper with dignity. "And if you knewmuch about either of them you would say it deeferently. "

"Why, what is the difference, Mr. Sutherland?" said Dr. Kane, anxious toappease the old man. "They both are means of expressing the emotions ofthe soul, you say. "

"The deeference! The deeferenee iss it? The deeference iss here, thatthe pipes will neffer lie. "

There was a shout of laughter. 

"One for you, Kane!" cried the Reverend Harper Freeman. "And, " hecontinued when the laughing had ceased, "we will have to take our sharetoo, Mr. Munro. "

But the hour for beginning the programme had arrived and the secretaryclimbed to the platform to announce the events for the day. 

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he cried, in a high, clear, penetrating voice, "the speech of welcome will be delivered toward the close of the day bythe president of the Middlesex Caledonian Society, the Honourable J. J. Patterson, M. P. P. My duty is the very simple one of announcing the orderof events on the programme and of expressing on behalf of the MiddlesexCaledonian Society the earnest hope that you all may enjoy the day, andthat each event on the programme will prove more interesting than thelast. The programme is long and varied and I must ask your assistanceto put it through on schedule time. First there are the athleticcompetitions. I shall endeavour to assist Dr. Kane and the judges inrunning these through without unnecessary and annoying delays. Then willfollow piping, dancing, and feasting in their proper order, after whichwill come the presentation of prizes and speeches from our distinguishedvisitors. On the platform over yonder there are places for the speakers, the officials, and the guests of the society, but such is the veryexcellent character of the ground that all can be accommodated withgrand stand seats. One disappointment, and one only, I must announce, the Band of the Seventh, London, cannot be with us to-day. "

"But we will never miss them, " interpolated the Reverend Alexander Munrowith solemn emphasis. 

"Exactly so!" continued Fatty when the laugh had subsided. "And nowlet's all go in for a good old time picnic, 'where even the farmerscease from grumbling and the preachers take a rest. ' Now take yourplaces, ladies and gentlemen, for the grand parade is about to begin. "

The programme opened with the one hundred yard flat race. For this racethere were four entries, Cahill from London, Fullerton from Woodstock, La Belle from nowhere in particular, and Wilbur Freeman from Maplehill. But Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. The secretary came breathless to theplatform. 

"Where's Wilbur?" he asked his father. 

"Wilbur? Surely he is in the crowd, or in the tent perhaps. "

At the tent the secretary found his brother nursing a twisted ankle, heart-sick with disappointment. Early in the day he had injured his footin an attempt to fasten a swing upon a tree. Every minute since thattime he had spent in rubbing and manipulating the injured member, butall to no purpose. While the pain was not great, a race was out of thequestion. The secretary was greatly disturbed and as nearly wrathful asever he allowed himself to become. He was set on his brother making agood showing in this race; moreover, without Wilbur there would be nocompetitor to uphold the honour of Maplehill in this contest and thiswould deprive it of much of its interest. 

"What the dickens were you climbing trees for?" he began impatiently, but a glance at his young brother's pale and woe-stricken face changedhis wrath to pity. "Never mind, old chap, " he said, "better luck nexttime, and you will be fitter too. "

Back he ran to the platform, for he must report the dismal news to hismother, whose chief interest in the programme for the day lay in thisrace in which her latest born was to win his spurs. The cheery secretarywas nearly desperate. It was an ominous beginning for the day's sports. What should he do? He confided his woe to Mack and Cameron, who werestanding close by the platform. 

"It will play the very mischief with the programme. It will spoil thewhole day, for Wilbur was the sole Maplehill representative in the threeraces; besides, I believe the youngster would have shown up well. "

"He would that!" cried Mack heartily. "He was a bird. But is there noone else from the Hill that could enter?"

"No, no one with a chance of winning, and no fellow likes to go insimply to be beaten. "

"What difference?" said Cameron. "It's all in a day's sport. "

"That's so, " said Mack. "If I could run myself I would enter. I wonderif Danny would--"

"Danny!" said the secretary shortly. "You know better than that. Danny's too shy to appear before this crowd even if he were dead sure ofwinning. "

"Say, it is too bad!" continued Mack, as the magnitude of the calamitygrew upon him. "Surely we can find some one to make an appearance. Whatabout yourself, Cameron? Did you ever race?"

"Some, " said Cameron. "I raced last year at the Athole Games. "

Fatty threw himself upon him. 

"Cameron, you are my man! Do you want to save your country, and perhapsmy life, certainly my reputation? Get out of those frills, " touching hiskilt, "and I'll get a suit from one of the jumpers for you. Go! Blessyour soul, anything you want that's mine you can have! Only hustle fordear life's sake! Go! Go! Go! Take him away, Mack. We'll get somethingelse on!"

Fatty actually pushed Cameron clear away from the platform and after himbig Mack. 

"There seems to be no help for it, " said Cameron, as they went to thetent together. 

"It's awful good of you, " replied Mack, "but you can see how hard Fattytakes it, though it is not a bit fair to you. "

"Oh, nobody knows me here, " said Cameron, "and I don't mind being avictim. "

But as Mack saw him get into his jersey and shorts he began to wonder abit. 

"Man, it would be great if you should beat yon Frenchman!" he exclaimed. 

"Frenchman?"

"Yes! La Belle. He is that stuck on himself; he thinks he is a winnerbefore he starts. "

"It's a good way to think, Mack. Now let us get down into the woods andhave a bit of a practise in the 'get away. ' How do they start here? Witha pistol?"

"No, " replied Mack. "We are not so swell. The starter gives the wordthis way, 'All set? Go!'"

"All right, Mack, you give me the word sharp. I am out of practise and Imust get the idea into my head. "

"You are great on the idea, I see, " replied Mack. 

"Right you are, and it is just the same with the hammer, Mack. "

"Aye, I have found that out. "

For twenty minutes or so Cameron practised his start and at everyattempt Mack's confidence grew, so that when he brought his man back tothe platform he announced to a group of the girls standing near, "Don'tsay anything, but I have the winner right here for you. "

"Why, Mr. Cameron, " cried Isa, "what a wonder you are! What else can youdo? You are a piper, a dancer, a hammer-thrower, and now a runner. "

"Jack-of-all-trades, " laughed Perkins, who, with Mandy, was standingnear. 

"Yes, but you can't say 'Master of none, '" replied Isa sharply. 

"Better wait, " said Cameron. "I have entered this race only to save Mr. Freeman from collapse. "

"Collapse? Fatty? He couldn't, " said Isa with emphasis. 

"Lass, I do not know, " said Mack gravely. "He looked more hollow thanever I have seen him before. "

"Well, we'll all cheer for you, Mr. Cameron, anyway, " cried Isa. "Won'twe, girls? Oh, if wishes were wings!"

"Wings?" said Mandy, with a puzzled air. "What for? This is a RACE. "

"Didn't you never see a hen run, Mandy?" laughed Perkins. 

"Yes, I have, but I tell you Mr. Cameron ain't no hen, " replied Mandyangrily. "And more! He's going to win. "

"Say, Mandy, that is the talk, " said Mack, when the laugh had passed. "Did you hear yon?" he added to Cameron. 

Cameron nodded. 

"It is a good omen, " he said. "I am going to do my best. "

"And, by Jingo! if you only had a chance, " said Mack, "I believe youwould lick them all. "

At this Fatty bustled up. 

"All ready, eh? Cameron, I shall owe you something for this. La Bellekicked like a steer against your entering at the last minute. It isagainst the rules, you know. But he's given in. "

Fatty did not explain that he had intimated to La Belle that therewas no need for anxiety as far as the "chap from the old country" wasconcerned; he was there merely to fill up. 

But if La Belle's fears were allayed by the secretary's disparagingdescription of the latest competitor, they sprang full grown into lifeagain when he saw Cameron "all set" for the start, and more especiallyso when he heard his protest against the Frenchman's method in the "getaway. "

"I want you to notice, " he said firmly to Dr. Kane, who was acting asstarter, "that this man gets away WITH the word 'Go' and not AFTER it. It is an old trick, but long ago played out. "

Then the Frenchman fell into a rage. 

"Eet ees no treeck!" sputtered La Belle. "Eet ees too queeck for him. "

"All right!" said Dr. Kane. "You are to start after the word 'Go. 'Remember! Sorry we have no pistol. "

Once more the competitors crouched over the scratch. 

"All set? Go!"

Like the releasing of a whirlwind the four runners spring from thescratch, La Belle, whose specialty is his "get away, " in front, Fullerton and Cameron in second place, Cahill a close third. A blanketwould cover them all. A tumult of cheers from the friends of the variousrunners follows them along their brief course. 

"Who is it? Who is it?" cries Mandy breathlessly, clutching Mack by thearm. 

"Cameron, I swear!" roars Mack, pushing his way through the crowd to thejudges. 

"No! No! La Belle! La Belle!" cried the Frenchman's backers from thecity. The judges are apparently in dispute. 

"I swear it is Cameron!" roars Mack again in their ears, his eyes aflameand his face alight with a fierce and triumphant joy. "It is Cameron Iam telling you!"

"Oh, get out, you big bluffer!" cries a thin-faced man, pressing closeupon the judges. "It is La Belle by a mile!"

"By a mile, is it?" shouts Mack. "Then go and hunt your man!" and witha swift motion his big hand falls upon the thin face and sweeps it clearout of view, the man bearing it coming to his feet in a white fury somepaces away. A second look at Mack, however, calms his rage, and from adistance he continues leaping and yelling "La Belle! La Belle!"

After a few moments' consultation the result is announced. 

"A tie for the first place between La Belle and Cameron! Time elevenseconds! The tie will be run off in a few minutes. "

In a tumult of triumph big Mack shoulders Cameron through the crowdand carries him off to the dressing tent, where he spends the next tenminutes rubbing his man's legs and chanting his glory. 

"Who is this Cameron?" enquired the M. P. P. , leaning over the platformrailing. 

Quick came the answer from the bevy of girls thronging past theplatform. 

"Cameron? He's our man!" It was Mandy's voice, bold and strong. 

"Your man?" said the M. P. P. , laughing down into the coarse flushed face. 

"Yes, OUR man!" cried Isa MacKenzie back at him. "And a winner, you maybe sure. "

"Ah, happy man!" exclaimed the M. P. P. "Who would not win with suchbackers? Why, I would win myself, Miss Isa, were you to back me so. Butwho is Cameron?" he continued to the Methodist minister at his side. 

"He is Haley's hired man, I believe, and that first girl is Haley'sdaughter. "

"Poor thing!" echoed Mrs. Freeman, a kindly smile on her motherly face. "But she has a good heart has poor Mandy. "

"But why 'poor'?" enquired the M. P. P. 

"Oh, well, " answered Mrs. Freeman with hesitation, "you see she is sovery plain--and--well, not like other girls. But she is a good workerand has a kind heart. "

Once more the runners face the starter, La Belle gay, alert, confident;Cameron silent, pale, and grim. 

"All set? Go!" La Belle is away ere the word is spoken. The bell, however, brings him back, wrathful and less confident. 

Once more they stand crouching over the scratch. Once more the wordreleases them like shafts from the bow. A beautiful start, La Belleagain in the lead, but Cameron hard at his heels and evidently withsomething to spare. Thus for fifty yards, sixty, yes, sixty-five. 

"La Belle! La Belle! He wins! He wins!" yell his backers frantically, the thin-faced man dancing madly near the finishing tape. Twenty yardsto go and still La Belle is in the lead. High above the shouting risesMack's roar. 

"Now, Cameron! For the life of you!"

It was as if his voice had touched a spring somewhere in Cameron'sanatomy. A great leap brings him even with La Belle. Another, another, and still another, and he breasts the tape a winner by a yard, time tenand three fifths seconds. The Maplehill folk go mad, and madder than allIsa and her company of girl friends. 

"I got--one--bad--start--me! He--pull--me back!" panted La Belle to hisbackers who were holding him up. 

"Who pulled you back?" indignantly cried the thin-faced man, looking forblood. 

"That sacre startair!"

"You ran a fine race, La Belle!" said Cameron, coming up. 

"Non! Peste! I mak heem in ten and one feeft, " replied the disgusted LaBelle. 

"I have made it in ten, " said Cameron quietly. 

"Aha!" exclaimed La Belle. "You are one black horse, eh? So! I race nomore to-day!"

"Then no more do I!" said Cameron firmly. "Why, La Belle, you will beatme in the next race sure. I have no wind. "

Under pressure La Belle changed his mind, and well for him he did; forin the two hundred and twenty yards and in the quarter mile Cameron'slack of condition told against him, so that in the one he ran second toLa Belle and in the other third to La Belle and Fullerton. 

The Maplehill folk were gloriously satisfied, and Fatty in an ecstasy ofdelight radiated good cheer everywhere. Throughout the various conteststhe interest continued to deepen, the secretary, with able generalship, reserving the hammer-throwing as the most thrilling event to the lastplace. For, more than anything in the world, men, and especially women, love strong men and love to see them in conflict. For that fatal lovecruel wars have been waged, lands have been desolated, kingdoms havefallen. There was the promise of a very pretty fight indeed between thethree entered for the hammer-throwing contest, two of them experiencedin this warfare and bearing high honours, the third new to the game andunskilled, but loved for his modest courage and for the simple, gentleheart he carried in his great body. He could not win, of course, forMcGee, the champion of the city police force, had many scalps at hisgirdle, and Duncan Ross, "Black Duncan, " the pride of the Zorras, theunconquered hero of something less than a hundred fights--who could hopeto win from him? But all the more for this the people loved big Mack andwished him well. So down the sloping sides of the encircling hills thecrowds pressed thick, and on the platform the great men leaned overthe rail, while they lifted their ladies to places of vantage upon thechairs beside them. 

"Oh, I cannot see a bit!" cried Isa MacKenzie, vainly pressing upon thecrowding men who, stolidly unaware of all but what was doing in front ofthem, effectually shut off her view. 

"And you want to see?" said the M. P. P. , looking down at her. 

"Oh, so much!" she cried. 

"Come up here, then!" and, giving her a hand, he lifted her, smiling andblushing, to a place on the platform whence she with absorbing interestfollowed the movements of big Mack, and incidentally of the others in asfar as they might bear any relation to those of her hero. 

And now they were drawing for place. 

"Aha! Mack is going to throw first!" said the Reverend Alexander Munro. "That is a pity. "

"It's a shame!" cried Isa, with flashing eyes. "Why don't they put oneof those older--ah--?"

"Stagers?" suggested the M. P. P. 

"Duffers, " concluded Isa. 

"The lot determines the place, Miss Isa, " said Mr. Freeman, with a smileat her. "But the best man will win. "

"Oh, I am not so sure of that!" cried the girl in a distressed voice. "Mack might get nervous. "

"Nervous?" laughed the M. P. P. "That giant?"

"Yes, indeed, I have seen him that nervous--" said Isa, and stoppedabruptly. 

"Ah! That is quite possible, " replied the M. P. P. With a quizzical smile. 

"And there is young Cameron yonder. He is not going to throw, is he?"enquired Mr. Munro. 

"He is coaching Mack, " explained Isa, "and fine he is at it. Oh, there!He is going to throw! Oh, if he only gets the swing! Oh! Oh! Oh! He hasgot it fine!"

A storm of cheers followed Mack's throw, then a deep silence while thejudges took the measurement. 

"One hundred and twenty-one feet!"

"One hundred and twenty-one!" echoed a hundred voices in amazement. 

"One hundred and twenty-one! It is a lie!" cried McGee with an oath, striding out to personally supervise the measuring. 

"One hundred and twenty-one!" said Duncan Ross, shaking his headdoubtfully, but he was too much of a gentleman to do other than wait forthe judges' decision. 

"One hundred and twenty-one feet and two inches, " was the final verdict, and from the crowd there rose a roar that rolled like thunder around thehills. 

"It's a fluke, and so it is!" said McGee with another oath. 

"Give me your hand, lad, " said Duncan Ross, evidently much roused. "Itiss a noble throw whateffer, and worthy of beeg Rory himself. I haf donebetter, howeffer, but indeed I may not to-day. "

It was indeed a great throw, and one immediate result was that therewas no holding back in the contest, no playing 'possum. Mack's throw wasthere to be beaten, and neither McGee nor even Black Duncan could affordto throw away a single chance. For hammer-throwing is an art requiringnot only strength but skill as well, and not only strength and skill butsomething else most difficult to secure. With the strength and the skillthere must go a rhythmic and perfect coordination of all the muscles inthe body, with exactly the proper contracting and relaxing of each atexactly the proper moment of time, and this perfect coordination is aresult rarely achieved even by the greatest throwers, but when achieved, and with the man's full strength behind it, his record throw is theresult. 

Meantime Cameron was hovering about his man in an ecstasy of delight. 

"Oh, Mack, old man!" he said. "You got the swing perfectly. It was adream. And if you had put your full strength into it you would have madea world record. Why, man, you could add ten feet to it!"

"It is a fluke!" said McGee again, as he took his place. 

"Make one like it, then, my lad, " said Black Duncan with a grim smile. 

But this McGee failed to do, for his throw measured ninety-seven feet. 

"A very fair throw, McGee, " said Black Duncan. "But not your best, andnothing but the best will do the day appearingly. "

With that Black Duncan took place for his throw. One--twice--thrice heswung the great hammer about his head, then sent it whirling into theair. Again a mighty shout announced a great throw and again a deadsilence waited for the measurement. 

"One hundred and fourteen feet!"

"Aha!" said Black Duncan, and stepped back apparently well satisfied. 

It was again Mack's turn. 

"You have the privilege of allowing your first throw to stand, " said Dr. Kane. 

"Best let it stand, lad, till it iss beat, " advised Black Duncan kindly. "It iss a noble throw. "

"He can do better, though, " said Cameron. 

"Very well, very well!" said Duncan. "Let him try. "

But Mack's success had keyed him up to the highest pitch. Every nervewas tingling, every muscle taut. His first throw he had taken withoutstrain, being mainly anxious, under Cameron's coaching, to get theswing, but under the excitement incident to the contest he had put morestrength into the throw than appeared either to himself or to his coach. Now, however, with nerves and muscles taut, he was eager to increasehis distance, too eager it seemed, for his second throw measured onlyeighty-nine feet. 

A silence fell upon his friends and Cameron began to chide him. 

"You went right back to your old style, Mack. There wasn't the sign of aswing. "

"I will get it yet, or bust!" said big Mack between his teeth. 

McGee's second throw went one hundred and seventeen feet. A cheer arosefrom his backers, for it was a great throw and within five feet ofhis record. Undoubtedly McGee was in great form and he might well beexpected to measure up to his best to-day. 

Black Duncan's second throw measured one hundred and nineteen feetseven, which was fifteen feet short of his record and showed him to beclimbing steadily upward. 

Once more the turn came to Mack, and once more, with almost savageeagerness, he seized the hammer preparatory to his throw. 

"Now, Mack, for heaven's sake go easy!" said Cameron. "Take your swingeasy and slow. "

But Mack heeded him not. "I can beat it!" he muttered between his shutteeth, "and I will. " So, with every nerve taut and every muscle strainedto its limit, he made his third attempt. It was in vain. The measureshowed ninety-seven feet six. A suppressed groan rose from the Maplehillfolk. 

"A grand throw, lad, for a beginner, " said Black Duncan. 

The excitement now became intense. By his first throw of one hundred andtwenty-one feet two, Mack remained still the winner. But McGee hadonly four feet to gain and Black Duncan less than two to equal him. The little secretary went skipping about aglow with satisfactionand delight. The day was already famous in the history of Canadianathletics. 

Again McGee took place for his throw, his third and last. The crowdgathered in as near as they dared. But McGee had done his best for thatday, and his final throw measured only one hundred and five feet. 

There remained yet but a single chance to wrest from Mack Murray theprize for that day, but that chance lay in the hands of Duncan Ross, thecool and experienced champion of many a hard-fought fight. Again BlackDuncan took the hammer. It was his last throw. He had still fifteen feetto go to reach his own record, and he had often beaten the throw thatchallenged him to-day, but, on the other hand, he had passed throughmany a contest where his throw had fallen short of the one he must nowbeat to win. A hush fell upon the people as Black Duncan took his place. Once--twice--and, with ever increasing speed, thrice he swung the greathammer, then high and far it hurtled through the air. 

"Jerusalem!" cried Mack. "What a fling!"

"Too high, " muttered Black Duncan. "You have got it, lad, you have gotit, and you well deserve it. "

"Tut-tut, nonsense!" said Mack impatiently. "Wait you a minute. "

Silent and expectant the crowd awaited the result. Twice over the judgesmeasured the throw, then announced "One hundred and twenty-one feet. "Mack had won by two inches. 

A great roar rose from the crowd, round Mack they surged like a flood, eager to grip his hands and eager to carry him off shoulder high. Buthe threw them off as a rock throws back the incoming tide and madefor Duncan Ross, who stood, calm and pale, and with hand outstretched, waiting him. It was a new experience for Black Duncan, and a bitter, tobe second in a contest. Only once in many years had he been forced tolower his colours, and to be beaten by a raw and unknown youth addedto the humiliation of his defeat. But Duncan Ross had in his veins theblood of a long line of Highland gentlemen who knew how to take defeatwith a smile. 

"I congratulate you, Mack Murray, " he said in a firm, clear voice. "Yourfame will be through Canada tomorrow, and well you deserve it. "

But Mack caught the outstretched hand in both of his and, leaning towardBlack Duncan, he roared at him above the din. 

"Mr. Ross, Mr. Ross, it is no win! Listen to me!" he panted. "What aretwo inches in a hundred and twenty feet? A stretching of the tape willdo it. No, no! Listen to me! You must listen to me as you are a man! Iwill not have it! You can beat me easily in the throw! At best it is atie and nothing else will I have to-day. At least let us throw again!"he pleaded. But to this Ross would not listen for a moment. 

"The lad has made his win, " he said to the judges, "and his win he musthave. "

But Mack declared that nothing under heaven would make him change hismind. Finally the judges, too, agreed that in view of the possibility ofa mistake in measuring with the tape, it would be only right and fairto count the result a tie. Black Duncan listened respectfully to thejudges' decision. 

"You are asking me a good deal, Mack, " he said at length, "but you are agallant lad and I am an older man and--"

"Aye! And a better!" shouted Mack. 

"And so I will agree. "

Once more the field was cleared. And now there fell upon the crowdingpeople a hush as if they stood in the presence of death itself. 

"Ladies and gentlemen!" said the M. P. P. "Do you realise that you arelooking upon a truly great contest, a contest great enough to be ofnational, yes, of international, importance?"

"You bet your sweet life!" cried the irrepressible Fatty. "We're goingsome. 'What's the matter with our Mack?'" he shouted. 

"'HE'S--ALL--RIGHT!'" came back the chant from the surrounding hills inhundreds of voices. 

"And what's the matter with Duncan Ross?" cried Mack, waving a handabove his head. 

Again the assurance of perfect rightness came back in a mighty roarfrom the hills. But it was hushed into immediate silence, a silencebreathless and overwhelming, for Black Duncan had taken once more hisplace with the hammer in his hand. 

"Oh, I do wish they would hurry!" gasped Isa, her hands pressed hardupon her heart. 

"My heart is rather weak, too, " said the M. P. P. "I fear I cannot lastmuch longer. Ah! There he goes, thank God!"

"Amen!" fervently responds little Mrs. Freeman, who, in the intensityof her excitement, is standing on a chair holding tight by her husband'scoat collar. 

Not a sound breaks the silence as Black Duncan takes his swing. It is acrucial moment in his career. Only by one man in Canada has he ever beenbeaten, and with the powers of his antagonist all untried and unknown, for anyone could see that Mack has not yet thrown his best, he may becalled upon to surrender within the next few minutes the proud positionhe has held so long in the athletic world. But there is not a signof excitement in his face. With great care, and with almost painfuldeliberation, he balances the hammer for a moment or two, thenonce--twice--and, with a tremendous quickening of speed, --thrice--heswings, and his throw is made. A great throw it is, anyone can see, andone that beats the winner. In hushed and strained silence the peopleawait the result. 

"One hundred and twenty-one feet nine. "

Then rises the roar that has been held pent up during the last fewnerve-racking minutes. 

"It iss a good enough throw, " said Black Duncan with a quiet smile, "butthere iss more in me yet. Now, lad, do your best and there will be nohard feeling with thiss man whateffer happens. "

Black Duncan's accent and idioms reveal the intense excitement that liesbehind his quiet face. 

Mack takes the hammer. 

"I will not beat it, you may be sure, " he says. "But I will just take afling at it anyway. "

"Now, Mack, " says Cameron, "for the sake of all you love forget thedistance and show them the Braemar swing. Easy and slow. "

But Mack waves him aside and stands pondering. He is "getting the idea. "

"Man, do you see him?" whispers his brother Danny, who stands near toCameron. "I believe he has got it. "

Cameron nods his head. Mack wears an impressive air of confidence andstrength. 

"It will be a great throw, " says Cameron to Danny. 

"Easy and slow" Mack poises the great hammer in his hand, swinging itgently backward and forward as if it had been a boy's toy, the greatmuscles in arms and back rippling up and down in firm full waves underhis white skin, for he is now stripped to the waist for this throw. 

Suddenly, as if at command, the muscles seem to spring to their places, tense, alert. "Easy. " Yes, truly, but by no means "slow. " "Easy, " thegreat hammer swings about his head in whirling circles, swift and everswifter. Once--and twice--the great muscles in back and arms and backand legs knotted in bunches--thrice!

"Ah-h-h!" A long, wailing, horrible sound, half moan, half cry, breaksfrom the people. Mack has missed his direction, and the great hammer, weighted with the potentialities of death, is describing a parabola highover the heads of the crowding, shrieking, scattering people. 

"Oh, my God! My God! Oh, my God! My God!" With his hands covering hiseyes the big man is swaying from side to side like a mighty tree beforea tempest. Cameron and Ross both spring to him. On the hillsides menstand rigid, pale, shaking; women shriek and faint. One ghastly momentof suspense, and then a horrid sickening thud; one more agonising secondof silence, and then from a score of throats rises a cry:

"It's all right! All right! No one hurt!"

From five hundred throats breaks a weird unearthly mingling of strangesounds; cheers and cries, shouts and sobs, prayers and oaths. In themidst of it all Mack sinks to his knees, with hands outstretched toheaven. 

"Great God, I thank Thee! I thank Thee!" he cries brokenly, the tearsstreaming down his ghastly face. Then, falling forward upon his hands, he steadies himself while great sobs come heaving from his mighty chest. Cameron and Ross, still upholding him, through the crowd a man comespushing his way, hurling men and women right and left. 

"Back, people! And be still. " It is the minister, Alexander Munro. "Bestill! It is a great deliverance that God has wrought! Peace, woman! Godis near! Let us pray. "

Instantly all noises are hushed, hats come off, and all up the slopinghills men and women fall to their knees, or remain standing with headsbowed, while the minister, upright beside the kneeling man, spreads hishands towards heaven and prays in a voice steady, strong, thrilling:

"Almighty God, great and wonderful in Thy ways, merciful and graciousin Thy providence, Thou hast wrought a great deliverance before our eyesthis day. All power is in Thy hands. All forces move at Thy command. Thine hand it is that guided this dread hammer harmless to its ownplace, saving the people from death. It is ever thus, Father, for Thouart Love. We lift to Thee our hearts' praise. May we walk softly beforeThee this day and alway. Amen!"

"Amen! Amen!" On every hand and up the hillsides rises the ferventsolemn attestation. 

"Rise, Mr. Murray!" says the minister in a loud and solemn voice, givingMack his hand. "God has been gracious to you this day. See that you donot forget. "

"He has that! He has that!" sobs Mack. "And God forgive me if I everforget. " And, suddenly pushing from him the many hands stretched outtowards him, he stumbles his way through the crowd, led off by his twofriends towards the tent. 

"Hold on there a minute! Let us get this measurement first. " It was thematter-of-fact, cheery voice of Fatty Freeman. "If I am not mistaken wehave a great throw to measure. "

"Quite right, Mr. Freeman, " said the minister. "Let us get themeasurement and let not the day be spoiled. "

"Here, you people, don't stand there gawking like a lot of dottychumps!" cried the secretary, striving to whip them out of the mood ofhorror into which they had fallen. "Get a move on! Give the judges achance! What is it, doctor?"

The judges were consulting. At length the decision was announced. 

"One hundred and twenty-nine seven. "

"Hooray!" yelled Fatty, flinging his straw hat high. "One hundred andtwenty-nine seven! It is a world throw! Why don't you yell, you people?Don't you know that you have a world-beater among you? Yell! Yell!"

"Three cheers for Mack Murray!" called out the Reverend Harper Freemanfrom the platform, swinging his great black beaver hat over his head. 

It was what the people wanted. Again, and again, and yet again the crowdexhausted its pent-up emotions in frantic cheers. The clouds of gloomwere rolled back, the sun was shining bright again, and with fresh zestthe people turned to the enjoyment of the rest of the programme. 

"Thank you, Sir!" said Fatty amid the uproar, gripping the hand of Mr. Munro. "You have saved the day for us. We were all going to smash, butyou pulled us out. "

Meantime in the tent Duncan Ross was discoursing to his friends. 

"Man, Mack! Yon's a mighty throw! Do you know it iss within five feetof my own record and within ten of Big Rory's? Then, " he said solemnly, "you are in the world's first class to-day, my boy, and you are justbeginning. "

"I have just quit!" said Mack. 

"Whist, lad! Thiss iss not the day for saying anything about it. Wewill wait a wee and to-day we will just be thankful. " And with that theyturned to other things. 

They were still in the dressing tent when the secretary thrust hischeery face under the flap. 

"I say, boys! Are you ready? Cameron, we want you on the pipes. "

"Harp!" said Mack. "I am going home. I am quite useless. "

"And me, too, " said Cameron. "I shall go with you, Mack. "

"What?" cried Fatty in consternation. "Look here, boys! Is this a squaredeal? God knows I am nearly all in myself. I've had enough to keep thisthing from going to pieces. Don't you go back on me now!"

"That is so!" said Mack slowly. "Cameron, you must stay. You are needed. I will spoil things more by staying than by going. I would be foreverseeing that hammer crushing down--" He covered his face with his handsand shuddered. 

"All right, Mack! I will stay, " said Cameron. "But what about you?"

"Oh, " said Black Duncan, "Mack and I will walk about and have a smokefor a little. "

"Thanks, boys, you are the stuff!" said Fatty fervently. "Once more youhave saved the day. Come then, Cameron! Get your pipes. Old Sutherlandis waiting for you. "

But before he set off Mack called Cameron to him. 

"You will see Isa, " he said, "and tell her why I could not stay. And youwill take her home. " His face was still pallid, his voice unsteady. 

"I will take care of her, Mack, never fear. But could you not remain? Itmight help you. "

But Mack only shook his head. His fervent Highland soul had too recentlypassed through the valley of death and its shadows were still upon him. 

Four hours later Fatty looked in upon Mack at his own home. He found himsitting in the moonlight in the open door of the big new barn, with hisnew-made friend, Duncan Ross, at one door post and old Piper Sutherlandat the other, while up and down the floor in the shadow within Cameronmarched, droning the wild melody of the "Maccrimmon Lament. " Mournfuland weird it sounded through the gloom, but upon the hearts of theseHighlanders it fell like a soothing balm. With a wave of his hand Mackindicated a seat, which Fatty took without a word. Irrepressible thoughhe was, he had all the instincts of a true gentleman. He knew it was thetime for silence, and silent he stood till the Lament had run throughits "doubling" and its "trebling, " ending with the simple statelymovement of its original theme. To Fatty it was a mere mad andunmelodious noise, but, reading the faces of the three men before him inthe moonlight, he had sense enough to recognise his own limitations. 

At length the Lament was finished and Cameron came forward into thelight. 

"Ah! That iss good for the soul, " said old piper Sutherland. "Do youknow what your pipes have been saying to me in yon Lament?

 'Yea, though I walk through Death's dark vale, Yet will I fear none ill; For Thou art with me, and Thy rod And staff me comfort still. '

And we have been in the valley thiss day. "

Mack rose to his feet. 

"I could not have said it myself, but, as true as death, that is theword for me. "

"Well, " said Fatty, rising briskly, "I guess you are all right, Mack. Iconfess I was a bit anxious about you, but--"

"There is no need, " said Mack gravely. "I can sleep now. "

"Good-night, then, " replied Fatty, turning to go. "Cameron, I owe you awhole lot. I won't forget it. " He set his hat upon the back of his head, sticking his hands into his pockets and surveying the group before him. "Say! You Highlanders are a great bunch. I do not pretend to understandyou, but I want to say that between you you have saved the day. " Andwith that the cheery, frisky, irrepressible, but kindly little man fadedinto the moonlight and was gone. 

For the fourth time the day had been saved. 

CHAPTER VI

A SABBATH DAY IN LATE AUGUST

It was a Sabbath day in late August, and in no month of the year doesa Sabbath day so chime with the time. For the Sabbath day is a day forrest and holy thought, and the late August is the rest time of the year, when the woods and fields are all asleep in a slumberous blue haze; thesacred time, too, for in late August old Mother Earth is breathing herholiest aspirations heavenward, having made offering of her best in thefull fruitage of the year. Hence a Sabbath day in late August chimesmarvellously well with the time. 

And this particular Sabbath day was perfect of its kind, a dreamy, drowsy day, a day when genial suns and hazy cool airs mingle inexcellent harmony, and the tired worker, freed from his week's toil, basks and stretches, yawns and revels in rest under the orchard trees;unless, indeed, he goes to morning church. And to morning church Cameronwent as a rule, but to-day, owing to a dull ache in his head and ageneral sense of languor pervading his limbs, he had chosen instead, aslikely to be more healing to his aching head and his languid limbs, thegenial sun, tempered with cool and lazy airs under the orchard trees. And hence he lay watching the democrat down the lane driven off tochurch by Perkins, with Mandy beside him in the front seat, the seatof authority and of activity, and Mr. Haley alone in the back seat, theseat of honour and of retirement. Mrs. Haley was too overborne by theheat and rush of the busy week to adventure the heat and dust of theroad, and to sustain the somewhat strenuous discourse of the ReverendHarper Freeman, to whose flock the Haleys belonged. This, however, wasnot Mrs. Haley's invariable custom. In the cooler weather it was herhabit to drive on a Sunday morning to church, sitting in the back seatbeside her husband, with Tim and Mandy occupying the front seat besidethe hired man, but during the heat and hurry of the harvest time shewould take advantage of the quietness of the house and of the two orthree hours' respite from the burden of household duties to make uparrears of sleep accumulated during the preceding week, salving herconscience, for she had a conscience in the matter, with a promise thatshe might go in the evening when it was cooler and when she was morerested. This promise, however, having served its turn, was neverfulfilled, for by the evening the wheels of household toil began oncemore to turn, and Mrs. Haley found it easier to worship vicariously, sending Mandy and Tim to the evening service. And to this service theyoung people were by no means loath to go, for it was held on fairevenings in MacBurney's woods, two miles away by the road, one mile bythe path through the woods. On occasion Perkins would hitch up in thesingle buggy Dexter, the fiery young colt, too fiery for any other todrive, and, as a special attention to his employer's daughter, woulddrive her to the service. But since the coming of Cameron, Mandy hadallowed this custom to fall into disuse, at first somewhat to Perkins'relief, for the colt was restless and fretted against the tie rein;and, besides, Perkins was not as yet quite prepared to acknowledge anyspecial relationship between himself and the young lady in questionbefore the assembled congregation, preferring to regard himself andto be regarded by others as a free lance. Later, however, as Mandy'spreference for a walk through the woods became more marked, Perkins, much to his disgust, found himself reduced to the attitude of asuppliant, urging the superior attraction of a swift drive behindDexter as against a weary walk to the service. Mandy, however, withthe directness of her simple nature, had no compunction in franklymaintaining her preference for a walk with Tim and Cameron through thewoods; indeed, more than once she allowed Perkins to drive off with hisfiery colt, alone in his glory. 

But this Sabbath morning, as Cameron lay under the orchard trees, he wasfirmly resolved that he would give the whole day to the nursing of theache in his head and the painful languor in his body. And so lying heallowed his mind to wander uncontrolled over the happenings of the pastmonths, troubled by a lazy consciousness of a sore spot somewhere in hislife. Gradually there grew into clearness the realisation of the causeof this sore spot. 

"What is the matter with Perkins?" he asked of Tim, who had declinedto go to church, and who had strolled into the orchard to be near hisfriend. 

"What is the matter with Perkins?" Cameron asked a second time, for Timwas apparently too much engaged with a late harvest apple to answer. 

"How?" said the boy at length. 

"He is so infernally grumpy with me. "

"Grumpy? He's sore, I guess. "

"Sore?"

"You bet! Ever since I beat him in the turnips that day. "

"Ever since YOU beat him?" asked Cameron in amazement. "Why should he besore against me?"

"He knows it was you done it, " said Tim. 

"Nonsense, Tim! Besides, Perkins isn't a baby. He surely doesn't holdthat against me. "

"Huh, huh, " said Tim, "everybody's pokin' fun at him, and he hates that, and ever since the picnic, too, he hates you. "

"But why in the world?"

"Oh, shucks!" said Tim, impatient at Cameron's density. "I guess youknow all right. "

"Know? Not I!"

"Git out?"

"Honor bright, Tim, " replied Cameron, sitting up. "Now, honestly, tellme, Tim, why in the world Perkins should hate me. "

"You put his nose out of joint, I guess, " said Tim with a grin. 

"Oh, rot, Tim! How?"

"Every how, " said Tim, proceeding to elaborate. "First when you camehere you were no good--I mean--" Tim checked himself hastily. 

"I know what you mean, Tim. Go on. You are quite right. I couldn't doanything on the farm. "

"Now, " continued Tim, "you can do anything jist as good as him--exceptbindin', of course. He's a terror at bindin', but at pitchin' andshockin' and loadin' you're jist as good. "

"But, Tim, that's all nonsense. Perkins isn't such a fool as to hate mebecause I can keep up my end. "

"He don't like you, " said Tim stubbornly. 

"But why? Why in the name of common sense?"

"Well, " said Tim, summing up the situation, "before you come he used tobe the hull thing. Now he's got to play second fiddle. "

But Cameron remained unenlightened. 

"Oh, pshaw!" continued Tim, making further concessions to hisfriend's stupidity. "At the dances, at the raisin's, runnin', jumpin'--everythin'--Perkins used to be the King Bee. Now--" Tim'ssilence furnished an impressive close to the contrast. "Why! They allthink you are just fine!" said Tim, with a sudden burst of confidence. 

"They?"

"All the boys. Yes, and the girls, too, " said Tim, allowing his solemnface the unusual luxury of a smile. 

"The girls?"

"Aw, yeh know well enough--the Murray girls, and the MacKenzies, and thehull lot of them. And then--and then--there's Mandy, too. " Here Tim shota keen glance at his friend, who now sat leaning against the trunk of anapple tree with his eyes closed. 

"Now, Tim, you are a shrewd little chap"--here Cameron sat upright--"buthow do you know about the girls, and what is this you say about Mandy?Mandy is good to me--very kind and all that, but--"

"She used to like Perkins pretty well, " said Tim, with a kind ofhesitating shyness. 

"And Perkins?"

"Oh, he thought he jist owned her. Guess he ain't so sure now, " addedTim. "I guess you've changed Mandy all right. "

It was the one thing Cameron hated to hear, but he made light of it. 

"Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed. "But if I did I would be mighty glad ofit. Mandy is too good for a man like Perkins. Why, he isn't safe. "

"He's a terror, " replied Tim seriously. "They are all scairt of him. He's a terror to fight. Why, at MacKenzie's raisin' last year he jistwent round foamin' like an old boar and nobody dast say a word to him. Even Mack Murray was scairt to touch him. When he gets like that heain't afraid of nothin' and he's awful quick and strong. "

Tim proceeded to enlarge upon this theme, which apparently fascinatedhim, with tales of Perkins' prowess in rough-and-tumble fighting. ButCameron had lost interest and was lying down again with his eyes closed. 

"Well, " he said, when Tim had finished his recital, "if he is that kindof a man Mandy should have nothing to do with him. "

But Tim was troubled. 

"Dad likes him, " he said gloomily. "He is a good hand. And ma likes him, too. He taffies her up. "

"And Mandy?" enquired Cameron. 

"I don't know, " said Tim, still more gloomy. "I guess he kind of makesher. I'd--I'd jist like to take a lump out of him. " Tim's eyes blazedinto a sudden fire. "He runs things on this farm altogether too much. "

"Buck up then, Tim, and beat him, " said Cameron, dismissing the subject. "And now I must have some sleep. I have got an awful head on. "

Tim was quick enough to understand the hint, but still he hovered about. 

"Say, I'm awful sorry, " he said. "Can't I git somethin'? You didn't eatno breakfast. "

"Oh, all I want is sleep, Tim. I will be all right tomorrow, " repliedCameron, touched by the tone of sympathy in Tim's voice. "You are a finelittle chap. Trot along and let me sleep. "

But no sleep came to Cameron, partly because of the hammer knocking inhis head, but chiefly because of the thoughts set going by Tim. Cameronwas not abnormally egotistical, but he was delightedly aware of the newplace he held in the community ever since the now famous Dominion Daypicnic, and, now that the harvest rush had somewhat slackened, socialengagements had begun to crowd upon him. Dances and frolics, coon huntsand raisings were becoming the vogue throughout the community, and nosocial function was complete without the presence of Cameron. Butthis sudden popularity had its embarrassments, and among them, andthreatening to become annoying, was the hostility of Perkins, veiled asyet, but none the less real. Moreover, behind Perkins stood a band ofyoung fellows of whom he was the recognised leader and over whom hisability in the various arts and crafts of the farm, his physical prowessin sports, his gay, cheery manner, and, it must be said, the reputationhe bore for a certain fierce brute courage in rough-and-tumble fighting, gave him a sort of ascendency. 

But Perkins' attitude towards him did not after all cause Cameron muchconcern. There was another and more annoying cause of embarrassment, andthat was Mandy. Tim's words kept reiterating themselves in his brain, "You've changed Mandy all right. " Over this declaration of Tim's, Cameron proceeded to argue with himself. He sat bolt upright that hemight face himself on the matter. 

"Now, then, " he said to himself, "let's have this thing out. "

"Most willingly. This girl was on the way to engagement to this youngman Perkins. You come on the scene. Everything is changed. "

"Well! What of it? It's a mighty good thing for her. "

"But you are the cause of it. "

"The occasion, rather. "

"No, the cause. You have attracted her to you. "

"I can't help that. Besides, it is a mere passing whim. She'll get overall that?" And Cameron laughed scornfully in his own face. 

"Do you know that? And how do you know it? Tim thinks differently. "

"Oh, confound it all! I see that I shall have to get out of here. "

"A wise decision truly, and the sooner the better. Do you propose to goat once?"

"At once? Well, I should like to spend the winter here. I have made anumber of friends and life is beginning to be pleasant. "

"Exactly! It suits your convenience, but how about Mandy?"

"Oh, rubbish! Must I be governed by the fancies of that silly girl?Besides, the whole thing is absurdly ridiculous. "

"But facts are stubborn, and anyone can see that the girl is--"

"Hang it all! I'll go at the end of the month. "

"Very well. And in the leave-taking--?"

"What?"

"It is pleasant to be appreciated and to carry away with one memories, Iwill not say tender, but appreciative. "

"I can't act like a boor. I must be decent to the girl. Besides, sheisn't altogether a fool. "

"No, but very crude, very primitive, very passionate, and therefore verydefenseless. "

"All right, I shall simply shake hands and go. "

So, with the consequent sense of relief that high resolve always brings, Cameron lay down again and fell into slumber and dreams of home. 

From these dreams of home Mandy recalled him with a summons to dinner. As his eye, still filled with the vision of his dreams, fell upon herin all the gorgeous splendour of her Sunday dress, he was conscious ofa strong sense of repulsion. How coarse, how crude, how vulgar sheappeared, how horribly out of keeping with those scenes through which hehad just been wandering in his dreams. 

"I want no dinner, Mandy, " he said shortly. "I have a bad head and I amnot hungry. "

"No dinner?" That a man should not want dinner was to Mandy quiteinexplicable, unless, indeed, he were ill. 

"Are you sick?" she cried in quick alarm. 

"No, I have a headache. It will pass away, " said Cameron, turning overon his side. Still Mandy lingered. 

"Let me bring you a nice piece of pie and a cup of tea. "

Cameron shuddered. 

"No, " he said, "bring me nothing. I merely wish to sleep. "

But Mandy refused to be driven away. 

"Say, I'm awful sorry. I know you're sick. "

"Nonsense!" said Cameron, impatiently, waiting for her to be gone. StillMandy hesitated. 

"I'm awful sorry, " she said again, and her voice, deep, tender, full-toned, revealed her emotion. 

Cameron turned impatiently towards her. 

"Look here, Mandy! There's nothing wrong with me. I only want a littlesleep. I shall be all right to-morrow. "

But Mandy's fears were not to be allayed. 

"Say, " she cried, "you look awful bad. "

"Oh, get out, Mandy! Go and get your dinner. Don't mind me. " Cameron'stone was decidedly cross. 

Without further remonstrance Mandy turned silently away, but before sheturned Cameron caught the gleam of tears in the great blue eyes. A swiftcompunction seized him. 

"I say, Mandy, I don't want to be rude, but--"

"Rude?" cried the girl. "You? You couldn't be. You are always good--tome--and--I--don't--know--" Here her voice broke. 

"Oh, come, Mandy, get away to dinner. You are a good girl. Now leave mealone. "

The kindness in his voice quite broke down Mandy's all too slightcontrol. She turned away, audibly sniffling, with her apron to her eyes, leaving Cameron in a state of wrathful perplexity. 

"Oh, confound it all!" he groaned to himself. "This is a rotten go. ByJove! This means the West for me. The West! After all, that's the place. Here there is no chance anyway. Why did I not go sooner?"

He rose from the grass, shivering with a sudden chill, went to his bedin the hay mow, and, covering himself with Tim's blankets and his own, fell again into sleep. Here, late in the afternoon, Tim found him andcalled him to supper. 

With Mandy's watchful eye upon him he went through the form of eating, but Mandy was not to be deceived. 

"You ain't eatin' nothin', " she said reproachfully as he rose from thetable. 

"Enough for a man who is doing nothing, " replied Cameron. "What I wantis exercise. I think I shall take a walk. "

"Going to church?" she enquired, an eager light springing into her eye. 

"To church? I hadn't thought of it, " replied Cameron, but, catchingthe gleam of a smile on Perkins' face and noting the utterly woebegoneexpression on Mandy's, he added, "Well, I might as well walk to churchas any place else. You are going, Tim?"

"Huh huh!" replied Tim. 

"I am going to hitch up Deck, Mandy, " said Perkins. 

"Oh, I'm goin' to walk!" said Mandy, emphatically. 

"All right!" said Perkins. "Guess I'll walk too with the crowd. "

"Don't mind me, " said Mandy. 

"I don't, " laughed Perkins, "you bet! Nor anybody else. "

"And that's no lie!" sniffed Mandy, with a toss of her head. 

"Better drive to church, Mandy, " suggested her mother. "You know you'rejist tired out and it will be late when you get started. "

"Tired? Late?" cried Mandy, with alacrity. "I'll be through them dishesin a jiffy and be ready in no time. I like the walk through the woods. "

"Depends on the company, " laughed Perkins again. "So do I. Guess we'llall go together. "

True to her promise, Mandy was ready within half an hour. Cameronshuddered as he beheld the bewildering variety of colour in her attireand the still more bewildering arrangement of hat and hair. 

"You're good and gay, Mandy, " said Perkins. "What's the killing?"

Mandy made no reply save by a disdainful flirt of her skirts as she setoff down the lane, followed by Perkins, Cameron and Tim bringing up therear. 

The lane was a grassy sward, cut with two wagon-wheel tracks, and witha picturesque snake fence on either side. Beyond the fences lay thefields, some of them with stubble raked clean, the next year's clovershowing green above the yellow, some with the grain standing still inthe shock, and some with the crop, the late oats for instance, stilluncut, but ready for the reaper. The turnip field was splendidly andluxuriantly green with never a sign of the brown earth. The hay meadow, too, was green and purple with the second growth of clover. 

So down the lane and between the shorn fields, yellow and green, betweenthe clover fields and the turnips, they walked in silence, for thespell of the Sabbath evening lay upon the sunny fields, barred with theshadows from the trees that grew along the fence lines everywhere. At the "slashing" the wagon ruts faded out and the road narrowed to asingle cow path, winding its way between stumps and round log piles, half hidden by a luxuriant growth of foxglove and fireweed and asters, and everywhere the glorious goldenrod. Then through the bars the pathled into the woods, a noble remnant of the beech and elm and mapleforest from which the farm had been cut some sixty years before. Cooland shadowy they stood, and shot through with bright shafts of gold fromthe westering sun, full of mysterious silence except for the twitteringof the sleepy birds or for the remonstrant call of the sentinel crowfrom his watch tower on the dead top of a great elm. Deeper into theshade the path ran until in the gloom it faded almost out of sight. 

Soothed by the cool shade, Cameron loitered along the path, pausing tolearn of Tim the names of plants and trees as he went. 

"Ain't yeh never comin'?" called Mandy from the gloom far in front. 

"What's all the rush?" replied Tim, impatiently, who loved nothingbetter than a quiet walk with Cameron through the woods. 

"Rush? We'll be late, and I hate walkin' up before the hull crowd. Comeon!" cried his sister in impatient tone. 

"All right, Mandy, we're nearly through the woods. I begin to seethe clearing yonder, " said Cameron, pointing to where the light wasbeginning to show through the tree tops before them. 

But they were late enough, and Mandy was glad of the cover of theopening hymn to allow her to find her way to a group of her girlfriends, the males of the party taking shelter with a neighbouring groupof their own sex near by. 

Upon the sloping sides of the grassy hills and under the beech andmaple trees, the vanguard of the retreating woods, sat the congregation, facing the preacher, who stood on the grassy level below. Behind themwas the solid wall of thick woods, over them time spreading boughs, andfar above the trees the blue summer sky, all the bluer for the littlewhite clouds that sailed serene like ships upon a sea. At their feet laythe open country, checkered by the snake fences into fields of yellow, green, and brown, and rolling away to meet the woods at the horizon. 

The Sabbath rest filled the sweet air, breathed from the shady woods, rested upon the checkered fields, and lifted with the hymn to the blueheaven above. A stately cathedral it was, this place of worship, filledwith the incense of flowers and fields, arched by the high dome ofheaven, and lighted by the glory of the setting sun. 

Relieved by the walk for a time from the ache in his head, Cameronsurrendered himself to the mysterious influences of the place andthe hour. He let his eyes wander over the fields below him to the farhorizon, and beyond--beyond the woods, beyond the intervening leaguesof land and sea--and was again gazing upon the sunlit loveliness of theCuagh Oir. The Glen was abrim with golden light this summer evening, the purple was on the hills and the little loch gleamed sapphire at thebottom. 

The preacher was reading his text. 

"Unto one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to everyman according to his several ability, and straightway took his journey, "and so on to the end of that marvellously wise tale, wise with thewisdom of God, confirmed by the wisdom of human experience. 

The Reverend Harper Freeman's voice could hardly, even by courtesy, becalled musical; in fact, it was harsh and strident; but this eveningthe hills, and the trees, and the wide open spaces, Nature's mightymodulator, subdued the harshness, so that the voice rolled up to thepeople clear, full, and sonorous. Nor was the preacher possessed ofgreat learning nor endued with the gift of eloquence. He had, however, ashrewd knowledge of his people and of their ways and of their needs, andhe had a kindly heart, and, more than all, he had the preacher's gift, the divine capacity for taking fire. 

For a time his words fell unheeded upon Cameron's outer ear. 

"To every man his own endowments, some great, some small, but, mark you, no man left quite poverty-stricken. God gives every man his chance. Noman can look God in the face, not one of you here can say that you havehad no chance. "

Cameron's vagrant mind, suddenly recalled, responded with a quickassent. Opportunity? Endowment? Yes, surely. His mind flashed back overthe years of his education at the Academy and the University, long lazyyears. How little he had made of them! Others had turned them into thegold of success. He wondered how old Dunn was getting on, and Linklater, and little Martin. How far away seemed those days, and yet only somefour or five months separated him from them. 

"One was a failure, a dead, flat failure, " continued the preacher. "Not so much a wicked man, no murderer, no drunkard, no gambler, but amiserable failure. Poor fellow! At the end of life a wretched bankrupt, losing even his original endowment. How would you like to come homeafter ten, twenty, thirty years of experiment with life and confess toyour father that you were dead broke and no good?"

Again Cameron's mind came back from its wandering with a start. Go backto his father a failure! He drew his lip down hard over his teeth. Notwhile he lived! And yet, what was there in prospect for him? His wholesoul revolted against the dreary monotony and the narrowness of hispresent life, and yet, what other path lay open? Cameron went strayingin fancy over the past, or in excursions into the future, while, parallel with his rambling, the sermon continued to make its way throughits various heads and particulars. 

"Why?" The voice of the preacher rose clear, dominant, arresting. "Whydid he fail so abjectly, so meanly, so despicably? For there is noexcuse for a failure. Listen! No man NEED fail. A man who is a failureis a mean, selfish, lazy chump. " Mr. Freeman was colloquial, ifanything. "Some men pity him. I don't. I have no use for him, and he isthe one thing in all the world that God himself has no use for. "

Again Cameron's mind was jerked back as a runaway horse by a rein. Sofar his life had been a failure. Was there then no excuse for failure?What of his upbringing, his education, his environment? He had beenindulging the habit during these last weeks of shifting responsibilityfrom himself for what he had become. 

"What was the cause of this young man's failure?" reiterated thepreacher. The preacher had a wholesome belief in the value ofreiteration. He had a habit of rubbing in his points. "He blamed theboss. Listen to his impudence! 'I knew thee to be a hard man. ' He blamedhis own temperament and disposition. 'I was afraid. ' But the boss bringshim up sharp and short. 'Quit lying!' he said. 'I'll tell you what'swrong with you. You've got a mean heart, you ain't honest, and you'retoo lazy to live. Here, take that money from him and give it to the manthat can do most with it, and take this useless loafer out of my sight. 'And served him right, too, say I, impudent, lazy liar. "

Cameron found his mind rising in wrathful defense of the unhappywretched failure in the story. But the preacher was utterly relentlessand proceeded to enlarge upon the character of the unhappy wretch. 

"Impudent! The way to tell an impudent man is to let him talk. Nowlisten to this man cheek the boss! 'I knew you, ' he said. 'You skineverybody in sight. ' I have always noticed, " remarked the preacher, witha twinkle in his eye, "that the hired man who can't keep up his end isthe kind that cheeks the boss. And so it is with life. Why, some menwould cheek Almighty God. They turn right round and face the other waywhen God is explaining things to them, when He is persuading them, whenHe is trying to help them. Then they glance back over their shouldersand say, 'Aw, gwan! I know better than you. ' Think of the impudence ofthem! That's what many a man does with God. With GOD, mind you! GOD!Your Father in heaven, your Brother, your Saviour, God as you know himin the Man of Galilee, the Man you always see with the sick and theoutcast and the broken-hearted. It is this God that owns you and allyou've got--be honest and say so. You must begin by getting right withGod. "

"God!" Once more Cameron went wandering back into the far away daysof childhood. God was very near then, and very friendly. How well heremembered when his mother had tucked him in at night and had kissed himand had put out the light. He never felt alone and afraid, for she lefthim, so she said, with God. It was God who took his mother's place, nearto his bedside. In those days God seemed very near and very kind. Heremembered his mother's look one day when he declared to her that hecould hear God breathing just beside him in the dark. How remoteGod seemed to-day and how shadowy, and, yes, he had to confess it, unfriendly. He heard no more of the sermon. With a curious ache in hisheart he allowed his mind to dwell amid those happy, happy memories whenhis mother and God were the nearest and dearest to him of all he knew. It may have been the ache in his head or the oppressive languor thatseemed to possess his body, but throughout the prayer that followedthe sermon he was conscious chiefly of a great longing for his mother'stouch upon his head, and with that a longing for his boyhood's sense ofthe friendly God in his heart. 

And so as the preacher led them up to God in prayer, Cameron bowed hishead with the others, thankful that he could still believe that, thoughclouds and darkness might be about Him, God was not beyond the reach ofthe soul's cry nor quite unmoved by human need. And for the first timefor years he sent forth as a little child his cry of need, "God help me!God help me!"

CHAPTER VII

THE CHIVAREE

There was still light enough to see. The last hymn was announced. Cameron was conscious of a deep, poignant emotion. He glanced swiftlyabout him. The eyes of all were upon the preacher's face while he readin slow sonorous tones the words of the old Methodist hymn:

 "Come, Thou Fount of every blessing! Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;"

all except the group of young men of whom Perkins was the centre, who, by means of the saccharine medium known as conversation lozenges, wereseeking to divert the attention of the band of young girls sittingbefore them. Among these sat Mandy. As his eye rested upon the billowyoutlines of her figure, struggling with the limitations of her whiteblouse, tricked out with pink ribbons, he was conscious of a wave ofmingled pity and disgust. Dull, stupid, and vulgar she looked. It was ather that Perkins was flipping his conversation lozenges. One fellupon her hymn book. With a start she glanced about. Not an eye exceptCameron's was turned her way. With a smile and a blush that burned deepunder the dull tan of her neck and cheek she took the lozenge, read itsinscription, burning a deeper red. The words which she had read shetook as Cameron's. She turned her eyes full upon his face. The lightof tremulous joy in their lovely depths startled and thrilled him. A snicker from the group of young men behind roused in him a deepindignation. They were taking their coarse fun out of this simple-mindedgirl. Cameron's furious glance at them appeared only to increase theiramusement. It did not lessen Cameron's embarrassment and rage that nowand then during the reading of the hymn Mandy's eyes were turned uponhim as if with new understanding. Enraged with himself, and more withthe group of hoodlums behind him, Cameron stood for the closing hymnwith his arms folded across his breast. At the second verse a handtouched his arm. It was Mandy offering him her book. Once more a snickerfrom the group of delighted observers behind him stirred his indignationon behalf of this awkward and untutored girl. He forced himself tolisten to the words of the third verse, which rose clear and sonorous inthe preacher's voice:

 "Here I raise my Ebenezer, Hither by Thy help I'm come; And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home. "

The serene assurance of the old Methodist hymn rose triumphant in thesinging, an assurance born of an experience of past conflict endingin triumph. That note of high and serene confidence conjured up witha flash of memory his mother's face. That was her characteristic, aserene, undismayed courage. In the darkest hours that steady flame ofcourage never died down. 

But once more he was recalled to the service of the hour by a voice, rich, full, low, yet of wonderful power, singing the old words. It tookhim a moment or two to discover that it was Mandy singing beside him. Her face was turned from him and upwards towards the trees above her, through the network of whose leaves the stars were beginning to shine. Amazed, enthralled, he listened to the flowing melody of her voice. It was like the song of a brook running deep in the forest shade, full-toned yet soft, quiet yet thrilling. She seemed to have forgottenher surroundings. Her soul was holding converse with the Eternal. Helost sight of the coarse and fleshly habiliments in the glimpse hecaught of the soul that lived within, pure, it seemed to him, tender, and good. His heart went out to the girl in a new pity. Before the hymnwas done she turned her face towards him, and, whether it was the magicof her voice, or the glorious splendour of her eyes, or the mystic touchof the fast darkening night, her face seemed to have lost much of itscoarseness and all of its stupidity. 

As the congregation dispersed, Cameron, in silence, and with the spellof her voice still upon him, walked quietly beside Mandy towards the gapin the fence leading to the high road. Behind him came Perkins with hisgroup of friends, chaffing with each other and with the girls walkingin front of them. As Cameron was stepping over the rails where thefence had been let down, one of the young men following stumbled heavilyagainst him, nearly throwing him down, and before he could recoverhimself Perkins had taken his place by Mandy's side and seized her arm. There was a general laugh at what was considered a perfectly fair andnot unusual piece of jockeying in the squiring of young damsels. Theproper procedure in such a case was that the discomfited cavalier shouldbide his time and serve a like turn upon his rival, the young ladymeanwhile maintaining an attitude purely passive. But Mandy was not sominded. Releasing herself from Perkins' grasp, she turned upon the groupof young men following, exclaiming angrily, "You ought to be ashamedof yourself, Sam Sailor!" Then, moving to Cameron's side, she said in aclear, distinct voice:

"Mr. Cameron, would you please take my book for me?"

"Come on, boys!" said Perkins, with his never failing laugh. "I guesswe're not in this. "

"Take your medicine, Perkins, " laughed one of his friends. 

"Yes, I'll take it all right, " replied Perkins. But the laugh could notconceal the shake of passion in his voice. "It will work, too, you bet!"

So saying, he strode off into the gathering gloom followed by hisfriends. 

"Come along, Mr. Cameron, " said Mandy with a silly giggle. "I guess wedon't need them fellows. They can't fool us, can they?"

Her manner, her speech, her laugh rudely dissipated all Cameron's newfeeling towards her. The whole episode filled him only with disgust andannoyance. 

"Come, then, " he said, almost roughly. "We shall need to hurry, forthere is a storm coming up. "

Mandy glanced at the gathering clouds. 

"My goodness!" she cried; "it's comin' up fast. My! I hate to git myclothes wet. " And off she set at a rapid pace, keeping abreast ofher companion and making gay but elephantine attempts at sprightlyconversation. Before Cameron's unsympathetic silence, however, all hersprightly attempts came to abject failure. 

"What's the matter with you?" at length she asked. "Don't you want tosee me home?"

"What?" said Cameron, abruptly, for his thoughts were far away. "Oh, nonsense! Of course! Why not? But we shall certainly be caught in thestorm. Let us hurry. Here, let me take your arm. "

His manner was brusque, almost rude. 

"Oh, I guess I can get along, " replied Mandy, catching off her hat andgathering up her skirt over her shoulders, "but we'll have to hustle, for I'd hate to have you get, wet. " Her imperturbable good humour andher solicitude for him rebuked Cameron for his abruptness. 

"I hope you will not get wet, " he said. 

"Oh, don't you worry about me. I ain't salt nor sugar, but I forgotall about your bein' sick. " And with laboured breath poor Mandy hurriedthrough the growing darkness with Cameron keeping close by her side. "We won't be long now, " she panted, as they turned from the side linetowards their own gate. 

As if in reply to her words there sounded from behind the fence andclose to their side a long loud howl. Cameron gave a start. 

"Great Caesar! What dog is that?" he exclaimed. 

"Oh, " said Mandy coolly, "guess it's MacKenzie's Carlo. "

Immediately there rose from the fence on the other side an answeringhowl, followed by a full chorus of howls and yelps mingled with abawling of calves and the ringing of cow bells, as if a dozen curs ormore were in full cry after a herd of cattle. Cameron stood still inbewildered amazement. 

"What the deuce are they at?" he cried, peering through the darkness. 

"Huh!" grunted Mandy. "Them's curs all right, but they ain't much dog. You wait till I see them fellows. They'll pay for this, you bet!"

"Do you mean to say these are not dogs?" cried Cameron, speaking in herear, so great was the din. 

"Dogs?" answered Mandy with indignant scorn. "Naw! Just or'nary curs!Come along, " she cried, catching his arm, "let's hurry. "

"Here!" he cried, suddenly wrenching himself free, "I am going to seeinto this. "

"No, no!" cried Mandy, gripping his arm once more with her strong hands. "They will hurt you. Come on! We're just home. You can see them again. No, I won't let you go. "

In vain he struggled. Her strong hands held him fast. Suddenly there wasa succession of short, sharp barks. Immediately dead silence fell. Not asound could be heard, not a shape seen. 

"Come out into the open, you cowardly curs!" shouted Cameron. "Come on!One, two, three at a time, if you dare!"

But silence answered him. 

"Come, " said Mandy in a low voice, "let's hurry. It's goin' to rain. Come on! Come along!"

Cameron stood irresolute. Then arose out of the black darkness a longquavering cat call. With a sudden dash Cameron sprang towards the fence. Instantly there was a sound of running feet through the plowed field onthe other side, then silence. 

"Come back, you cowards!" raged Cameron. "Isn't there a man among you?"

For answer a clod came hurtling through the dark and struck with a thudupon the fence. Immediately, as if at a signal, there fell about Camerona perfect hail of clods and even stones. 

"Oh! Oh!" shrieked Mandy, rushing towards him and throwing herselfbetween him and the falling missiles. "Come away! Come away! They'lljust kill you. "

For answer Cameron put his arms about her and drew her behind him, shielding her as best he could with his body. 

"Do you want to kill a woman?" he called aloud. 

At once the hail of clods ceased and, raging as he was, Mandy draggedhim homeward. At the door of the house he made to turn back. 

"Not much, you don't, " said Mandy, stoutly, "or I go with you. "

"Oh, all right, " said Cameron, "let them go. They are only a lot ofcurs, anyway. "

For a few minutes they stood and talked in the kitchen, Cameron makinglight of the incident and making strenuous efforts to dissemble the ragethat filled his soul. After a few minutes conversation Cameron announcedhis intention of going to bed, while Mandy passed upstairs. He left thehouse and stole down the lane toward the road. The throbbing pain in hishead was forgotten in the blind rage that possessed him. He had only onelonging, to stand within striking distance of the cowardly curs, onlyone fear, that they should escape him. Swiftly, silently, he stole downthe lane, every nerve, every muscle tense as a steel spring. His throatwas hot, his eyes so dazzled that he could scarcely see; his breath camein quick gasps; his hands were trembling as with a nervous chill. Thestorm had partially blown away. It had become so light that he coulddimly discern a number of figures at the entrance to the lane. Havinghis quarry in sight, Cameron crouched in the fence corner, holding hardby the rail till he should become master of himself. He could hear theirexplosions of suppressed laughter. It was some minutes before he hadhimself in hand, then with a swift silent run he stood among them. So busy were they in recounting the various incidents in the recent"chivaree, " that before they were aware Cameron was upon them. At hisapproach the circle broke and scattered, some flying to the fence. ButPerkins with some others stood their ground. 

"Hello, Cameron!" drawled Perkins. "Did you see our cows? I thought Iheard some of them down the line. "

For answer Cameron launched himself at him like a bolt from a bow. Therewas a single sharp crack and Perkins was literally lifted clear off hisfeet and hurled back upon the road, where he lay still. Fiercely Cameronfaced round to the next man, but he gave back quickly. A third sprangto throw himself upon Cameron, but once more Cameron's hand shot forwardand his assailant was hurled back heavily into the arms of his friends. Before Cameron could strike again a young giant, known as Sam Sailor, flung his arms about him, crying--

"Tut-tut, young fellow, this won't do, you know. Can't you take a bit offun?"

For answer Cameron clinched him savagely, gripping him by the throat andplanting two heavy blows upon his ribs. 

"Here--boys, " gasped the young fellow, "he's--chokin'--the--life--out--of me. "

From all sides they threw themselves upon him and, striking, kicking, fighting furiously, Cameron went down under the struggling mass, hishand still gripping the throat it had seized. 

"Say! He's a regular bull-dog, " cried one. "Git hold of his legs andyank him off, " which, with shouts and laughter, they proceeded to do andpiled themselves upon him, chanting the refrain--"More beef! More beef!"

A few minutes more of frantic struggling and a wild agonised scream rosefrom beneath the mass of men. 

"Git off, boys! Git off!" roared the young giant. "I'm afraid he'shurt. "

Flinging them off on either side, he stood up and waited for theirvictim to rise. But Cameron lay on his face, moaning and writhing, onthe ground. 

"Say, boys, " said Sam, kneeling down beside him, "I'm afraid he's hurtedbad. "

In his writhing Cameron lifted one leg. It toppled over to one side. 

"Jumpin' Jeremiah!" said Sam in an awed voice. "His leg's broke! What inSam Hill can we do?"

As he spoke there was a sound of running feet, coming down the lane. The moon, shining through the breaking clouds, revealed a figure withfloating garments rapidly approaching. 

"My cats!" cried Sam in a terrified voice. "It's Mandy. "

Like leaves before a sudden gust of wind the group scattered and onlySam was left. 

"What--what are you doin'?" panted Mandy. "Where is he? Oh, is thathim?" She flung herself down in the dust beside Cameron and turned himover. His face was white, his eyes glazed. He looked like death. "Oh!Oh!" she moaned. "Have they killed you? Have they killed you?" Shegathered his head upon her knees, moaning like a wounded animal. 

"Good Lord, Mandy, don't go on like that!" cried Sam in a horrifiedvoice. "It's only his leg broke. "

Mandy laid his head gently down, then sprang to her feet. 

"Only his leg broke? Who done it? Who done it, tell me? Who done it?"she panted, her voice rising with her gasping breath. "What coward doneit? Was it you, Sam Sailor?"

"Guess we're all in it, " said Sam stupidly. "It was jist a bit of fun, Mandy. "

For answer she swung her heavy hand hard upon Sam's face. 

"Say, Mandy! Hold hard!" cried Sam, surprise and the weight of the blowalmost knocking him off his feet. 

"You cowardly brute!" she gasped. "Get out of my sight. Oh, what shallwe do?" She dropped on her knees and took Cameron's head once more inher arms. "What shall we do?"

"Guess we'll have to git him in somewheres, " said Sam. "How can we carryhim though? If we had some kind of a stretcher?"

"Wait! I know, " cried Mandy, flying off up the lane. 

Before many minutes had passed she had returned, breathing hard. 

"It's--the---milkhouse--door, " she said. "I--guess that'll--do. "

"That'll do all right, Mandy. Now I wish some of them fellers wouldcome. "

Sam pulled off his coat and made of it a pillow, then stood up lookingfor help. His eye fell upon the prostrate and senseless form of Perkins. 

"Say, what'll we do with him?" he said, pointing to the silent figure. 

"Who is it?" enquired Mandy. "What's the matter?"

"It's Perkins, " replied Sam. "He hit him a terrible crack. "

"Perkins!" said Mandy with scorn. "Let him lie, the dog. Come on, takehis head. "

"You can't do it, Mandy, no use trying. You can't do it. "

"Come on, I tell you, " she said fiercely. "Quit your jawin'. He may bedyin' for all I know. I'd carry him alone if it wasn't for his brokenleg. " Slowly, painfully they carried him to the house and to the frontdoor. 

"Wait a minute!" said Mandy. "I'll have to git things fixed a bit. Wemustn't wake mother. It would scare her to death. "

She passed quickly into the house and soon Sam saw a light pass fromroom to room. In a few moments Mandy reappeared at the front door. 

"Quick!" whispered Sam. "He's comin' to. "

"Oh, thank goodness!" cried Mandy. "Let's git him in before he wakes. "

Once more they lifted their burden and with infinite difficulty and muchpainful manoeuvering they got the injured man through the doors and uponthe spare room bed. 

"And now, Sam Sailor, " cried Mandy, coming close to him, "you jist hitchup Deck and hustle for the doctor if ever you did in your life. Don'twait for nothin', but go! Go!" She fairly pushed him out of the door, running with him towards the stable. "Oh, Sam, hurry!" she pleaded, "forif this man should die I will never be the like again. " Her facewas white, her eyes glowing like great stars; her voice was soft andtremulous with tears. 

Sam stood for a moment gazing as if upon a vision. 

"What are you lookin' at?" she cried, stamping her foot and pushing himaway. 

"Jumpin' Jeremiah!" muttered Sam, as he ran towards the stable. "Is thatMandy Haley? Guess we don't know much about her. "

His nimble fingers soon had Dexter hitched to the buggy and speedingdown the lane at a pace sufficiently rapid to suit the high spirit ofeven that fiery young colt. 

At the high road he came upon his friends, some of whom were workingwith Perkins, others conversing in awed and hurried undertones. 

"Hello, Sam!" they called. "Hold up!"

"I'm in a hurry, boys, don't stop me. I'm scared to death. And youbetter git home. She'll be down on you again. "

"How is he?" cried a voice. 

"Don't know. I'm goin' for the doctor, and the sooner we git that doctorthe better for everybody around. " And Sam disappeared in a whirl ofdust. 

"Say! Who would a thought it?" he mused. "That Mandy Haley? She's aterror. And them eyes! Oh, git on, Deck, what you monkeyin' about?Wonder if she's gone on that young feller? I guess she is all right!Say, wasn't that a clout he handed Perkins. And didn't she give me one. But them eyes! Mandy Haley! By the jumpin' Jeremiah! And the way shelooks at a feller! Here, Deck, what you foolin' about? Gwan now, oryou'll git into trouble. "

Deck, who had been indulging himself in a series of leaps and plunges, shying at even the most familiar objects by the road side, settled downat length to a businesslike trot which brought him to the doctor's doorin about fifteen minutes from the Haleys' gate. But to Sam's dismay thedoctor had gone to Cramm's Mill, six or seven miles away, and wouldnot be back till the morning. Sam was in a quandary. There was anotherdoctor at Brookfield, five miles further on, but there was a possibilitythat he also might be out. 

"Say, there ain't no use goin' back without a doctor. She'd--she'd--Jumpin' Jeremiah! What would she do? Say, Deck, you'vegot to git down to business. We're goin' to the city. There are doctorsthere thick as hair on a dog. We'll try Dr. Turnbull. Say, it'll begreat if we could git him! Deck, we'll do it! But you got to git up anddust. "

And this Deck proceeded to do to such good purpose that in about anhour's time he stood before Dr. Turnbull's door in the city, somewhatwet, it is true, but with his fiery spirit still untamed. 

Here again adverse fate met the unfortunate Sam. 

"Doctor Turnbull's no at home, " said the maid, smart with cap and apron, who opened the door. 

"How long will he be gone?" enquired Sam, wondering what she had on herhead, and why. 

"There's no tellin'. An hour, or two hours, or three. "

"Three hours?" echoed Sam. "Say, a feller might kick the bucket in thattime. "

The maid smiled an undisturbed smile. 

"Bucket? What bucket, eh? What bucket are ye talkin' aboot?" sheenquired. 

"Say, you're smart, ain't yeh! But I got a young feller that's broke hisleg and--"

"His leg?" said the maid indifferently. "Well, he's got another?"

"Yes, you bet he has, but one leg ain't much good without the other. Howwould you like to hop around on one leg? And he's hurt inside, too, his lights, I guess, and other things. " Sam's anatomical knowledge wassomewhat vague. "And besides, his girl's takin' on awful. "

"Oh, is she indeed?" replied the maid, this item apparently being to herof the very slightest importance. 

"Say, if you only saw her, " said Sam. 

"Pretty, I suppose, " said the maid with a touch of scorn. 

"Pretty? No, ugly as a hedge fence. But say, I wish she was here rightnow. She'd bring you to your--to time, you bet. "

"Would she, now? I'd sort her. " And the little maid's black eyessnapped. 

"Say, what'll I do? Jist got to have a doctor. "

"Ye'll no git him till to-morrow. "

"To-morrow?"

"How far oot are ye?"

"Twelve miles. "

"Twelve miles? Ye'll no get him a minute afore to-morrow noon. "

"Say, that young feller'll croak, sure. Away from home too. No friends. All his folks in Scotland. "

"Scotland, did ye say?" Something appeared to wake up in the littlemaid. "Look here, why don't ye get a doctor instead o' daunderin' yourtime here?"

"Git a doctor?" echoed Sam in vast surprise. "And ain't I tryin' to gita doctor? Where'll I git a doctor?"

"Go to the hospital, ye gawk, and ask for Dr. Turnbull, and tell himthe young lad is a stranger and that his folk are in Scotland. Hoots, yegomeril, be off noo, an' the puir lad wantin' ye. Come, I'll pit ye onyer way. " The maid by her speech was obviously excited. 

Sam glanced at the clock as he passed out. He had been away an hour anda half. 

"Jumpin' Jeremiah! I've got to hurry. She'll take my head off. "

"Of course ye have, " said the maid sharply. "Go down two streets there, then take the first turn to your left and go straight on for half adozen blocks or so. Mind ye tell the doctor the lad's frae Scotland!"she cried to Sam as he drove off. 

At the hospital Sam was fortunate enough to catch Dr. Turnbull in thehall with one or two others, just as they were about to pass into theconsulting room. Such was Sam's desperate state of mind that he wentstraight up to the group. 

"I want Dr. Turnbull, " he said. 

"There he is before you, " replied a sharp-faced young doctor, pointingto a benevolent looking old gentleman. 

"Dr. Turnbull, there's a young feller hurt dreadful out our way. Hisleg's broke. Guess he's hurt inside too. And he's a stranger. His folksare all in Scotland. Guess he's dyin', and I've got--I've got a horseand buggy at the door. I can git you out and back in a jiffy. Say, doctor, I'm all ready to start. "

A smile passed over the faces of the group. But Dr. Turnbull had toolong experience with desperate cases and with desperate men. 

"My dear Sir, " he replied, "I cannot go for some hours. "

"Doctor, I want you now. I got to have somebody right now. "

"A broken leg?" mused the doctor. 

"Yes, and hurt inside. "

"How did it happen?" said the doctor. 

"Eh? I don't know exactly, " replied Sam, taken somewhat aback. "Somethin' fell on him. But he needs you bad. "

"I can't go, my man, but we'll find some one. What's his name did yousay?"

"His name is Cameron, and he's from Scotland. "

"Cameron?" said the sharp-faced young doctor. "What does he look like?"

"Look like?" said Sam in a perplexed voice. "Well, the girls all thinkhe looks pretty good. He's dark complected and he's a mighty smart youngfeller. Great on jumpin' and runnin'. Say, he's a crackajack. Why, atthe Dominion Day picnic! But you must a' heard about him. He's the chap, you know, that won the hundred yards. Plays the pipes and--"

"Plays the pipes?" cried Dr. Turnbull and the young doctor together. 

"And his name's Cameron?" continued the young doctor. "I wonder nowif--"

"I say, Martin, " said Dr. Turnbull, "I think you had better go. The casemay be urgent. "

"Cameron!" cried Martin again. "I bet my bat it's--Here, wait till I getmy coat. I'll be with you in a jerk. Have you got a good horse?"

"He's all right, " said Sam. "He'll git you there in an hour. "

"An hour? How far is it?"

"Twelve miles. "

"Great heavens! Come, then, get a move on!" And so it came that withinan hour Cameron, opening his eyes, looked up into the face of hisfriend. 

"Martin! By Jove!" he said, and closed his eyes again. "Martin!" he saidagain, looking upon the familiar face. "Say, old boy, is this a dream? Iseem to be having lots of them. "

"It's no dream, old chap, but what in the mischief is the matter? Whatdoes all this fever mean? Let's look at you. "

A brief examination was enough to show the doctor that a broken leg wasthe least of Cameron's trouble. A hasty investigation of the resourcesof the farm house determined the doctor's course. 

"This man has typhoid fever, a bad case too, " he said to Mandy. "We willtake him in to the hospital. "

"The hospital?" cried Mandy fiercely. "Will you, then?"

"He will be a lot of trouble to you, " said the doctor. 

"Trouble? Trouble? What are you talkin' about?"

"We're awful busy, Mandy, " interposed the mother, who had been rousedfrom her bed. 

"Oh, shucks, mother! Oh, don't send him away, " she pleaded. "I can nursehim, just as easy. " She paused, with quivering lips. 

"It will be much better for the patient to be in the hospital. He willget constant and systematic care. He will be under my own observationevery hour. I assure you it will be better for him, " said the doctor. 

"Better for him?" echoed Mandy in a faint voice. "Well, let him go. "

In less than an hour's time, such was Dr. Martin's energetic promptness, he had his patient comfortably placed in the democrat on an improvisedstretcher and on his way to the city hospital. 

And thus it came about that the problem of his leave-taking, which hadvexed Cameron for so many days, was solved. 

CHAPTER VIII

IN APPLE TIME

"Another basket of eggs, Mr. Cameron, and such delicious cream! I amdeeply grieved to see you so nearly well. "

"Grieved?"

"For you will be leaving us of course. "

"Thanks, that is kind of you. "

"And there will be an end to eggs and cream. Ah! You are a lucky man. "And the trim, neat, bright-faced nurse shook her finger at him. 

"So I have often remarked to myself these six weeks. "

"A friend is a great discovery and by these same tokens you have foundone. "

"Truly, they have been more than kind. "

"This makes the twelfth visit in six weeks, " said the nurse. "In busyharvest and threshing time, too. Do you know what that means?"

"To a certain extent. It is awfully good of them. "

"But she is shy, shy--and I think she is afraid of YOU. Her chiefinterest appears to be in the kitchen, which she has never failed tovisit. "

The blood slowly rose in Cameron's face, from which the summer tan hadall been bleached by his six weeks' fight with fever, but he made noreply to the brisk, sharp-eyed, sharp-minded little nurse. 

"And I know she is dying to see you, and, indeed, " she chuckled, "itmight do you good. She is truly wonderful. " And again the nurse laughed. "Don't you think you could bear a visit?" The smile broadened upon herface. 

But unaware she had touched a sensitive spot in her patient, hisHighland pride. 

"I shall be more than pleased to have an opportunity to thank Miss Haleyfor her great kindness, " he replied with dignity. 

"All right, " replied the nurse. "I shall bring her in. Now don't exciteyourself. That fever is not so far away. And only a few minutes. When wefarmers go calling--I am a farmer, remember, and know them well--when wego calling we take our knitting and spend the afternoon. "

In a few moments she returned with Mandy. The difference between thestout, red-faced, coarse-featured, obtrusively healthy country girl, heavy of foot and hand, slow of speech and awkward of manner, andthe neat, quick, deft-fingered, bright-faced nurse was so marked thatCameron could hardly control the wave of pity that swept through hisheart, for he could see that even Mandy herself was vividly aware of thecontrast. In vain Cameron tried to put her at her ease. She simply satand stared, now at the walls, now at the floor, refusing for a time toutter more than monosyllables, punctuated with giggles. 

"I want to thank you for the eggs and cream. They are fine, " saidCameron heartily. 

"Oh, pshaw, that's nothin'! Lots more where they come from, " repliedMandy with a giggle. 

"But it's a long way for you to drive; and in the busy time too. "

"Oh, we had to come in anyway for things, " replied Mandy, making lightof her service. 

"You are all well?"

"Oh, pretty middlin'. Ma ain't right smart. She's too much to do, andthat's the truth. "

"And the boys?" Cameron hesitated to be more specific. 

"Oh, there's nothin' eatin' them. I don't bother with them much. " Mandywas desperately twisting her white cotton gloves. 

At this point the nurse, with a final warning to the patient not to talktoo much and not to excite himself, left the room. In a moment Mandy'swhole manner changed. 

"Say!" she cried in a hurried voice; "Perkins is left. "

"Left?"

"I couldn't jist stand him after--after--that night. Dad wanted him tostay, but I couldn't jist stand him, and so he quit. "

"Quit?"

"I jist hate him since--since--that night. When I think of what he doneI could kill him. My, I was glad to see him lyin' there in the dust!"Mandy's words came hot and fast. "They might 'a killed you. " For thefirst time in the interview she looked fairly into Cameron's eyes. "My, you do look awful!" she said, with difficulty commanding her voice. 

"Nonsense, Mandy! You see, it wasn't my leg that hurt me. It was thefever that pulled me down. "

"Oh, I'll never forget that night!" cried Mandy, struggling to keep herlips from quivering. 

"Nor will I ever forget what you did for me that night, Mandy. Sam toldme all about it. I shall always be your friend. "

For a moment longer she held him with her eyes. Then her face grewsuddenly pale and, with voice and hands trembling, she said:

"I must go. Good-by. "

He took her great red hand in his long thin fingers. 

"Good-by, Mandy, and thank you. "

"My!" she said, looking down at the fingers she held in her hand. "Yourhands is awful thin. Are you sure goin' to git better?"

"Of course I am, and I am coming out to see you before I go. "

She sat down quickly, still holding his hand, as if he had struck her aheavy blow. 

"Before you go? Where?" Her voice was hardly above a whisper; her facewas white, her lips beyond her control. 

"Out West to seek my fortune. " His voice was jaunty and he feigned notto see her distress. "I shall be walking in a couple of weeks or so, eh, nurse?"

"A couple of weeks?" replied the nurse, who had just entered. "Yes, ifyou are good. "

Mandy hastily rose. 

"But if you are not, " continued the nurse severely, "it may be months. Stay, Miss Haley, I am going to bring Mr. Cameron his afternoon tea andyou can have some with him. Indeed, you look quite done up. I am sureall that work you have been telling me about is too much for you. "

Her kindly tones broke the last shred of Mandy's self-control. She sankinto her chair, covered her face with her great red hands and burst intotempestuous weeping. Cameron sat up quickly. 

"What in the name of goodness is wrong, Mandy?"

"Lie down at once, Mr. Cameron!" said the nurse sternly. "Hush, hush, Miss Haley! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Don't you know that youare hurting him?"

She could have chosen no better word. In an instant Mandy was on herfeet, mopping off her face and choking down her sobs. 

"Ain't I a fool?" she cried angrily. "A blamed fool. Well, I won'tbother you any longer. Guess I'll go now. Good-by all. " Without anotherlook at Cameron she was gone. 

Cameron lay back upon his pillows, white and nerveless. 

"Now can you tell me, " he panted, "what's up?"

"Search me!" said the nurse gaily, "but I forbid you to speak a singleword for half an hour. Here, drink this right off! Now, not a word! Whatwill Dr. Martin say? Not a word! Yes, I shall see her safely off theplace. Quiet now!" She kept up a continuous stream of sprightly chatterto cover her own anxiety and to turn the current of her patient'sthoughts. By the time she had reached the entrance hall, however, Mandyhad vanished. 

"Great silly goose!" said the indignant nurse. "I'd see myself farenough before I'd give myself away like that. Little fool! He'll havea temperature sure and I will catch it. Bah! These girls! Next time shesees him it will not be here. I hope the doctor will just give me anhour to get him quiet again. "

But in this hope she was disappointed, for upon her return to herpatient she found Dr. Martin in the room. His face was grave. 

"What's up, nurse? What is the meaning of this rotten pulse? What has hebeen having to eat?"

"Well, Dr. Martin, I may as well confess my sins, " replied the nurse, "for there is no use trying to deceive you anyway. Mr. Cameron has had avisitor and she has excited him. "

"Ah!" said the doctor in a relieved tone. "A visitor! A lady visitor! Acharming, sympathetic, interested, and interesting visitor. "

"Exactly!" said the nurse with a giggle. 

"It was Miss Haley, Martin, " said Cameron gravely. 

The doctor looked puzzled. 

"The daughter of the farmer with whom I was working, " explained Cameron. 

"Ah, I remember her, " said the doctor. "And a deuce of a time I had withher, too, getting you away from her, if I remember aright. I trust thereis nothing seriously wrong in that quarter?" said Martin with unusualgravity. 

"Oh, quit it, Martin!" said Cameron impatiently. "Don't rag. She's anawful decent sort. Her looks are not the best of her. "

"Ah! I am relieved to hear that, " said the doctor earnestly. 

"She is very kind, indeed, " said the nurse. "For these six weeks she hasfed us up with eggs and cream so that both my patient and myself havefared sumptuously every day. Indeed, if it should continue much longerI shall have to ask an additional allowance for a new uniform. I havepromised that Mr. Cameron shall visit the farm within two weeks if hebehaves well. "

"Exactly!" replied the doctor. "In two weeks if he is good. The onlyquestion that troubles me is--is it quite safe? You see in his presentweak condition his susceptibility is decidedly emphasised, his resistingpower is low, and who knows what might happen, especially if she shouldinsist? I shall not soon forget the look in her eye when she dared me tolay a finger upon his person. "

"Oh, cut it out, Martin!" said Cameron. "You make me weary. " He lay backon his pillow and closed his eyes. 

The nurse threw a signal to the doctor. 

"All right, old man, we must stop this chaff. Buck up and in two weekswe will let you go where you like. I have something in mind for you, butwe won't speak of it to-day. "

The harvest was safely stored. The yellow stubble showed the fieldsat rest, but the vivid green of the new fall wheat proclaimed theastounding and familiar fact that once more Nature had begun her ancientperennial miracle. For in those fields of vivid green the harvest ofthe coming year was already on the way. On these green fields the snowymantle would lie soft and protecting all the long winter through andwhen the spring suns would shine again the fall wheat would be a monthor more on the way towards maturity. 

Somehow the country looked more rested, fresher, cleaner to Cameron thanwhen he had last looked upon it in late August. The rain had washed thedust from the earth's face and from the green sward that bordered thegrey ribbon of the high road that led out from the city. The pasturesand the hay meadows and the turnip fields were all in their freshestgreen, and beyond the fields the forest stood glorious in all its autumnsplendour, the ash trees bright yellow, the oaks rich brown, and themaples all the colours of the rainbow. In the orchard--ah, the wonderand the joy of it! even the bare and bony limbs of the apple trees onlyhelped to reveal the sumptuous wealth of their luscious fruit. For itwas apple time in the land! The evanescent harvest apples were longsince gone, the snows were past their best, the pippins were mellowingunder the sharp persuasion of the nippy, frosty nights and the bravegallantry of the sunny days. In this ancient warfare between the frostynights and the gallant sunny days the apples ripened rapidly; and wellthat they should, for the warfare could not be for long. Already in theearly morning hours the vanguard of winter's fierce hosts was to be seenflaunting its hoary banners even in the very face of the gallant sunso bravely making stand against it. But it was the time of the year inwhich men felt it good to be alive, for there was in the air thattang that gives speed to the blood, spring to the muscle, edge to theappetite, courage to the soul, and zest to life--the apple time of theyear. 

It was in apple time that Cameron came back to the farm. Undercompulsion of Mandy, Haley had found it necessary to drive into thecity for some things for the "women folk" and, being in the city, he hadcalled for Cameron and had brought him out. Under compulsion, not at allbecause Haley was indifferent to the prospect of a visit from his formerhired man, not alone because the fall plowing was pressing and thethreshing gang was in the neighbourhood, but chiefly because, throughthe channel of Dr. Martin, the little nurse, and Mandy, it had come tobe known in the Haley household and in the country side that thehired man was a "great swell in the old country, " and Haley's sturdyindependence shrank from anything that savoured of "suckin' round aswell, " as he graphically put it. But Mandy scouted this idea and waitedfor the coming of the expected guest with no embarrassment from theknowledge that he had been in the old country "a great swell. "

Hence when, through a crack beside the window blind, she saw him, apoor, pale shadow, descending wearily and painfully from the buggy, the great mother heart in the girl welled with pity. She could hardlyforbear rushing out to carry him bodily in her strong arms to the spareroom and lay him where she had once helped to lay him the night of thetragedy some eight weeks before. But in this matter she had learned herlesson. She remembered the little nurse and her indignant scorn of thelack of self-control she had shown on the occasion of her last visit tothe hospital. So, instead of rushing forth, she clutched the curtainsand forced herself to stand still, whispering to herself the while, "Oh, he will die sure! He will die sure!" But when she looked upon him seatedcomfortably in the kitchen with a steaming glass of ginger and whiskey, her mother's unfailing remedy for "anything wrong with the insides, " sheknew he would not die and her joy overflowed in boisterous welcome. 

For five days they all, from Haley to Tim, gave him of their very best, seeking to hold him among them for the winter, for they had learned thathis mind was set upon the West, till Cameron was ashamed, knowing thathe must go. 

The last afternoon they all spent in the orchard. The Gravensteins, inwhich species of apple Haley was a specialist, were being picked, andpicked with the greatest care, Cameron plucking them from the limbs anddropping them into a basket held by Mandy below. It was one of thosesunny days when, after weeks of chilly absence, summer comes again andmakes the world glow with warmth and kindly life and quickens in theheart the blood's flow. Cameron was full of talk and fuller of laughterthan his wont; indeed he was vexed to find himself struggling tomaintain unbroken the flow of laughter and of talk. But in Mandy therewas neither speech nor laughter, only a quiet dignity that disturbed andrebuked him. 

The last tree of Gravensteins was picked and then there came the timeof parting. Cameron, with a man's selfish desire for some token of awoman's adoration, even although he well knew that he could make noreturn, lingered in the farewell, hoping for some sign in the plainquiet face and the wonderful eyes with their new mystery that whenhe had gone he would not be forgotten; but though the lips quiveredpitifully and the heavy face grew drawn and old and the eyes glowedwith a deeper fire, the words, when they came, came quietly and the eyeslooked steadily upon him, except that for one brief moment a fire leapedin them and quickly died down. But when the buggy, with Tim driving, had passed down the lane, behind the curtain of the spare room thegirl stood looking through the crack beside the blind, with bothhands pressed upon her bosom, her breath coming in sobs, her blue lipsmurmuring brokenly, "Good-by, good-by! Oh, why did you come at all? But, oh, I'm glad you came! God help me, I'm glad you came!" Then, when thebuggy had turned down the side lane and out of sight, she knelt besidethe bed and kissed, again and again, with tender, reverent kisses, thepillow where his head had lain. 

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER I

THE CAMP BY THE GAP

On the foot-hills' side of The Gap, on a grassy plain bounded on threesides by the Bow River and on the other by ragged hills and brokentimber, stood Surveyor McIvor's camp, three white tents, seemingwondrously insignificant in the shadow of the mighty Rockies, but cosyenough. For on this April day the sun was riding high in the heavens inall his new spring glory, where a few days ago and for many months pastthe storm king with relentless rigour had raged, searching with pitilessfury these rock-ribbed hills and threatening these white tents and theirdwellers with dire destruction. But threaten though he might and pinthem though he did beneath their frail canvas covers, he could not makethat gang beat retreat. McIvor was of the kind that takes no back trail. In the late fall he had set out to run the line through The Gap, andafter many wanderings through the coulees of the foothills and aftermany vain attempts, he had finally made choice of his route and hadbrought his men, burnt black with chinook and frost and sun, hither toThe Gap's mouth. Every chain length in those weary marches was a battleground, every pillar, every picket stood a monument of victory. McIvor'sadvance through the foot-hill country to The Gap had been one unbrokensuccession of fierce fights with Nature's most terrifying forces, atriumphal march of heroes who bore on their faces and on their bodiesthe scars and laurels of the campaign. But to McIvor and his gang it wasall in the day's work. 

To Cameron the winter had brought an experience of a life hithertoundreamed of, but never even in its wildest blizzards did he cherishanything but gratitude to his friend Martin, who had got him attached toMcIvor's survey party. For McIvor was a man to "tie to, " as Martin said, and to Cameron he was a continual cause of wonder and admiration. He wasa big man, with a big man's quiet strength, patient, fearless of menand things, reverent toward Nature's forces, which it was his life'sbusiness to know, to measure, to control, and, if need be, to fight, careful of his men, whether amid the perils of the march, or amidthe more deadly perils of trading post and railway construction camp. Cameron never could forget the thrill of admiration that swept his soulone night in Taylor's billiard and gambling "joint" down at the postwhere the Elbow joins the Bow, when McIvor, without bluff or bluster, took his chainman and his French-Canadian cook, the latter frothing madwith "Jamaica Ginger" and "Pain-killer, " out of the hands of the gangof bad men from across the line who had marked them as lambs for thefleecing. It was not the courage of his big chief so much thathad filled Cameron with amazed respect and admiration as the calmindifference to every consideration but that of getting his men out ofharm's way, and the cool-headed directness of the method he employed. 

"Come along, boys, " McIvor had said, gripping them by their coatcollars. "I don't pay you good money for this sort of thing. " And sosaying he had lifted them clear from their seats, upsetting the table, ignoring utterly the roaring oaths of the discomfited gamblers. Whatwould have been the result none could say, for one of the gamblers hadwhipped out his gun and with sulphurous oaths was conducting a vigourousdemonstration behind the unconscious back of McIvor, when there strolledinto the room and through the crowd of men scattering to cover, a tallslim youngster in the red jacket and pill-box cap of that world-famousbody of military guardians of law and order, the North West MountedPolice. Not while he lived would Cameron forget the scene that followed. With an air of lazy nonchalance the youngster strode quietly up tothe desperado flourishing his gun and asked in a tone that indicatedcuriosity more than anything else, "What are you doing with that thing?"

"I'll show yeh!" roared the man in his face, continuing to pour forth atorrent of oaths. 

"Put it down there!" said the youngster in a smooth and silky voice, pointing to a table near by. "You don't need that in this country. "

The man paused in his demonstration and for a moment or two stood inamazed silence. The audacity of the youngster appeared to paralyse hispowers of speech and action. 

"Put it down there, my man. Do you hear?" The voice was still smooth, but through the silky tones there ran a fibre of steel. Still thedesperado stood gazing at him. "Quick, do you hear?" There was asudden sharp ring of imperious, of overwhelming authority, and, to theamazement of the crowd of men who stood breathless and silent about, there followed one of those phenomena which experts in psychologydelight to explain, but which no man can understand. Without a word thegambler slowly laid upon the table his gun, upon whose handle were manynotches, the tally of human lives it had accounted for in the hands ofthis same desperado. 

"What is this for?" continued the young man, gently touching the belt ofcartridges. "Take it off!"

The belt found its place beside the gun. 

"Now, listen!" gravely continued the youngster. "I give you twenty-fourhours to leave this post, and if after twenty-four hours you are foundhere it will be bad for you. Get out!"

The man, still silent, slunk out from the room. Irresistible authorityseemed to go with the word that sent him forth, and rightly so, forbehind that word lay the full weight of Great Britain's mighty empire. It was Cameron's first experience of the North West Mounted Police, thatfamous corps of frontier riders who for more than a quarter of a centuryhave ridden the marches of Great Britain's territories in the farnorthwest land, keeping intact the Pax Britannica amid the wild turmoilof pioneer days. To the North West Mounted Police and to the pioneermissionary it is due that Canada has never had within her borders whatis known as a "wild and wicked West. " It was doubtless owing to thepresence of that slim youngster in his scarlet jacket and pill-box capthat McIvor got his men safely away without a hole in his back and thathis gang were quietly finishing their morning meal this shining Aprilday, in their camp by the Bow River in the shadow of the big white peaksthat guard The Gap. 

Breakfast over, McIvor heaved his great form to the perpendicular. 

"How is the foot, Cameron?" he asked, filling his pipe preparatory tothe march. 

"Just about fit, " replied Cameron. 

"Better take another day, " replied the chief. "You can get up wood andget supper ready. Benoit will be glad enough to go out and take yourplace for another day on the line. "

"Sure ting, " cried Benoit, the jolly French-Canadian cook. "Good formy healt. He's tak off my front porsch here. " And the cook pattedaffectionately the little round paunch that marred the symmetry of hisfigure. 

"You ought to get Cameron to swap jobs with you, Benny, " said one of theaxemen. "You would be a dandy in about another month. "

Benoit let his eye run critically over the line of his person. 

"Bon! Dat's true, for sure. In tree, four mont I mak de beeg spark on degirl, me. "

"You bet, Benny!" cried the axeman. "You'll break 'em all up. "

"Sure ting!" cried Benny, catching up a coal for his pipe. "By by, Cameron. Au revoir. I go for tak some more slice from my porsch. "

"Good-bye, Benny, " cried Cameron. "It is your last chance, for to-morrowI give you back your job. I don't want any 'front porsch' on me. "

"Ho! ho!" laughed Benny scornfully, as he turned to hurry afterhis chief. "Dat's not moch front porsch on you. Dat's one railfence--clabbord. "

And indeed Benoit was right, for there was no "porsch" or sign of one onCameron's lean and muscular frame. The daily battle with winter's fiercefrosts and blizzards, the strenuous toil, the hard food had done theirwork on him. Strong, firm-knit, clean and sound, hard and fit, he hadcome through his first Canadian winter. No man in the camp, not eventhe chief himself, could "bush" him in a day's work. He had gainedenormously in strength lately, and though the lines of his frame stillran to angles, he had gained in weight as well. Never in the days of hisfinest training was he as fit to get the best out of himself as now. An injured foot had held him in camp for a week, but the injury was nowalmost completely repaired and the week's change of work only served toreplenish his store of snap and vim. 

An hour or two sufficed to put the camp in the perfect order that heknew Benoit would consider ideal and to get all in readiness for theevening meal when the gang should return. He had the day before himand what a day it was! Cameron lay upon a buffalo skin in front of thecook-tent, content with all the world and for the moment with himself. Six months ago he had engaged as an axeman in the surveyors' gang at$30 per month and "found, " being regarded more in the light of asupernumerary and more or less of a burden than anything else. Nowhe was drawing double the wage as rodman, and, of all the gang, stoodsecond to none in McIvor's regard. In this new venture he had comenearer to making good than ever before in his life. So in full contentwith himself he allowed his eyes to roam over the brown grassy plainthat sloped to the Bow in front, and over the Bow to the successivelines of hills, rounded except where the black rocks broke jaggedthrough the turf, and upward over the rounded hills to the grey sides ofthe mighty masses of the mountains, and still upward to where the whitepeaks lost themselves in the shining blue of the sky. Behind him acoulee ran back between hills to a line of timber, and beyond the timbermore hills and more valleys, and ever growing higher and deeper tillthey ran into the bases of the great Rockies. 

As Cameron lay thus luxuriating upon his buffalo skin and lazilywatching the hills across the river through the curling wreaths thatgracefully and fragrantly rose from his briar root, there broke from theline of timber two jumping deer, buck and doe, the latter slow-footedbecause heavy with young. Behind them in hot pursuit came a pack ofyelping coyotes. The doe was evidently hard pressed. The buck wasrunning easily, but gallantly refusing to abandon his mate to hercowardly foes. Straight for the icy river they made, plunged in, and, making the crossing, were safe from their pursuing enemy. Cameron, intent upon fresh meat, ran for McIvor's Winchester, but ere he couldbuckle round him a cartridge belt and throw on his hunting jacket thedeer had disappeared over the rounded top of the nearest hill. Up thecoulee he ran to the timber and there waited, but there was no sign ofhis game. Cautiously he made his way through the timber and droppedinto the next valley circling westward towards the mountains. The deer, however, had completely vanished. Turning back upon his tracks, he oncemore pierced the thin line of timber, when just across the coulee, somethree hundred yards away, on the sky line, head up and sniffing thewind, stood the buck in clear view. Taking hurried aim Cameron fired. The buck dropped as if dead. Marking the spot, Cameron hurried forward, but to his surprise found only a trail of blood. 

"He's badly hit though, " he said to himself. "I must get the poor chapnow at all costs. " Swiftly he took up the trail, but though the bloodstains continued clear and fresh he could get no sight of the woundedanimal. Hour after hour he kept up the chase, forgetful of everythingbut his determination to bring back his game to camp. From the freshnessof the stains he knew that the buck could not be far ahead and from thefootprints it was clear that the animal was going on three legs. 

"The beggar is hearing me and so keeps out of sight, " said Cameron ashe paused to listen. He resolved to proceed more slowly and with greatercaution, but though he followed this plan for another half hour itbrought him no better success. The day was fast passing and he couldnot much longer continue his pursuit. He became conscious of pain in hisinjured foot. He sat down to rest and to review his situation. For thefirst time he observed that the bright sky of the morning had becomeovercast with a film of hazy cloud and that the temperature was rapidlyfalling. Prudence suggested that he should at once make his way back tocamp, but with the instinct of the true hunter he was loath to abandonthe poor wounded beast to its unhappy fate. He resolved to make onefurther attempt. Refreshed by his brief rest, but with an increasingsense of pain in his foot, he climbed the slight rising ground beforehim, cautiously pushed his way through some scrub, and there, withineasy shot, stood the buck, with drooping head and evidently withstrength nearly done. Cameron took careful aim--there must be no mistakethis time--and fired. The buck leaped high in the air, dropped and laystill. The first shot had broken his leg, the second had pierced hisheart. 

Cameron hurried forward and proceeded to skin the animal. But soonhe abandoned this operation. "We'll come and get him to-morrow, " hemuttered, "and he is better with his skin on. Meantime we'll have asteak, however. " He hung a bit of skin from a pole to keep off thewolves and selected a choice cut for the supper. He worked hurriedly, for the sudden drop in the temperature was ominous of a seriousdisturbance in the weather, but before he had finished he was startledto observe a large snowflake lazily flutter to the ground beside him. He glanced towards the sky and found that the filmy clouds were rapidlyassuming definite shape and that the sun had almost disappeared. Hurriedly he took his bearings and, calculating as best he could thedirection of the camp, set off, well satisfied with the outcome of hisexpedition and filled with the pleasing anticipation of a venison supperfor himself and the rest of the gang. 

The country was for the most part open except for patches of timber hereand there, and with a clear sky the difficulty of maintaining directionwould have been but slight. With the sky overcast, however, thisdifficulty was sensibly increased. He had not kept an accurate reckoningof his course, but from the character of the ground he knew that hemust be a considerable distance westward of the line of the camp. Histraining during the winter in holding a line of march helped him now tomaintain his course steadily in one direction. The temperature was stilldropping rapidly. Over the woods hung a dead stillness, except for thelonely call of an occasional crow or for the scream of the impudentwhiskey-jack. But soon even these became silent. As he surmounted eachhill top Cameron took his bearings afresh and anxiously scanned the skyfor weather signs. In spite of himself there crept over him a sense offoreboding, which he impatiently tried to shake off. 

"I can't be so very far from camp now, " he said to himself, looking athis watch. "It is just four. There are three good hours till dark. "

A little to the west of his line of march stood a high hill whichappeared to dominate the surrounding country and on its top a loftypine. "I'll just shin up that tree, " said he. "I ought to get a sightof the Bow from the top. " In a few minutes he had reached the top ofthe hill, but even in those minutes the atmosphere had thickened. "Jove, it's getting dark!" he exclaimed. "It can't be near sundown yet. Did Imake a mistake in the time?" He looked at his watch again. It showed aquarter after four. "I must get a look at this country. " Hurriedlyhe threw off his jacket and proceeded to climb the big pine, which, fortunately, was limbed to the ground. From the lofty top his eye couldsweep the country for many miles around. Over the great peaks of theRockies to the west dark masses of black cloud shot with purple andliver-coloured bars hung like a pall. To the north a line of clear lightwas still visible, but over the foot-hills towards east and south therelay almost invisible a shimmering haze, soft and translucent, and abovethe haze a heavy curtain, while over the immediate landscape there shonea strange weird light, through which there floated down to earth largewhite snowflakes. Not a breath of air moved across the face of thehills, but still as the dead they lay in solemn oppressive silence. Farto the north Cameron caught the gleam of water. 

"That must be the Bow, " he said to himself. "I am miles too far towardthe mountains. I don't like the look of that haze and that cloud bank. There is a blizzard on the move if this winter's experience teaches meanything. "

He had once been caught in a blizzard, but on that occasion he waswith McIvor. He was conscious now of a little clutch at his heart ashe remembered that desperate struggle for breath, for life it seemed tohim, behind McIvor's broad back. The country was full of stories of menbeing overwhelmed by the choking, drifting whirl of snow. He knew howswift at times the on-fall of the blizzard could be, how long the stormcould last, how appalling the cold could become. What should he do? Hemust think and act swiftly. That gleaming water near which his camplay was, at the very best going, two hours distant. The blizzard mightstrike at any moment and once it struck all hope of advance would becut off. He resolved to seek the best cover available and wait till thestorm should pass. He had his deer meat with him and matches. Could hebut make shelter he doubted not but he could weather the storm. Swiftlyhe swept the landscape for a spot to camp. Half a mile away he spied alittle coulee where several valleys appeared to lose themselves in thickunderbrush. He resolved to make for that spot. Hurriedly he slipped downthe tree, donned belt and jacket and, picking up gun and venison, setoff at a run for the spot he had selected. A puff of wind touched hischeek. He glanced up and about him. The flakes of snow were no longerfloating gently down, but were slanting in long straight lines acrossthe landscape. His heart took a quicker beat. 

"It is coming, sure enough, " he said to himself between his teeth, "anda bad one too at that. " He quickened his pace to racing speed. Down thehill, across the valley and up the next slope he ran without pause, but as he reached the top of the slope a sound arrested him, a deep, muffled, hissing roar, and mingled with it the beating of a thousandwings. Beyond the top of the next hill there hung from sky to earththe curtain, thick, black, portentous, and swiftly making approach, devouring the landscape as it came and filling his ears with itsmuffled, hissing roar. 

In the coulee beyond that hill was the spot he had marked for hisshelter. It was still some three hundred yards away. Could he beat thatroaring, hissing, portentous cloud mass? It was extremely doubtful. Downthe hill he ran, slipping, skating, pitching, till he struck the bottom, then up the opposite slope he struggled, straining every nerve andmuscle. He glanced upward towards the top of the hill. Merciful heaven!There it was, that portentous cloud mass, roaring down upon him. Couldhe ever make that top? He ran a few steps further, then, dropping hisgun, he clutched a small poplar and hung fast. A driving, blinding, choking, whirling mass of whiteness hurled itself at him, buffeting himheavily, filling eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, clutching at his arms andlegs and body with a thousand impalpable insistent claws. For a momentor two he lost all sense of direction, all thought of advance. Oneinstinct only he obeyed--to hold on for dear life to the swayingquivering poplar. The icy cold struck him to the heart, his bare fingerswere fast freezing. A few moments he hung, hoping for a lull in the furyof the blizzard, but lull there was none, only that choking, blinding, terrifying Thing that clutched and tore at him. His heart sank withinhim. This, then, was to be the end of him. A vision of his own body, stark and stiff, lying under a mound of drifting snow, swiftly passedbefore his mind. He threw it off wrathfully. "Not yet! Not just yet!" heshouted in defiance into the face of the howling storm. 

Through the tumult and confusion of his thoughts one idea dominated--hemust make the hill-top. Sliding his hands down the trunk of the littlepoplar he once more found his rifle and, laying it in the hollow of hisarm, he hugged it close to his side, shoved his freezing hands into hispockets and, leaning hard against the driving blizzard, set off towardsthe hill-top. A few paces he made, then turning around leaned back uponthe solid massive force of the wind till he could get breath. Again afew steps upward and again a rest against the wind. His courage began tocome back. 

"Aha!" he shouted at the storm. "Not yet! Not yet!" Gradually, and withgrowing courage, he fought his way to the top. At length he stood uponthe storm-swept summit. "I say, " he cried, heartening himself with hisspeech, "this is so much to the good anyway. Now for the coulee. " Butexactly where did it lie? Absolutely nothing could he see before himbut this blinding, choking mass of whirling snow. He tried to recall thedirection in relation to the hill as he had taken it from the top of thetree. How long ago that seemed! Was it minutes or hours? Downward andtowards the left lay the coulee. He could hardly fail to strike it. Plunging headlong into the blizzard, he fought his way once more, stepby step. 

"It was jolly well like a scrimmage, " he said grimly to the stormwhich began in his imagination to assume a kind of monstrous and savagepersonality. It heartened him much to remember his sensations in manya desperate struggle against the straining steaming mass of muscle andbone in the old fierce football fights. He recalled, too, a word of hisold captain, "Never say die! The next minute may be better. "

"Never say die!" he cried aloud in the face of his enemy. "But I wish toheaven I could get up some of that heat just now. This cold is going tobe the death of me. "

As he spoke he bumped into a small bushy spruce tree. "Hello! Here youare, eh!" he cried, determined to be cheerful. "Glad to meet you. Hopethere are lots more of you. " His hope was realised! A few more steps andhe found himself in the heart of a spruce thicket. 

"Thank God!" he exclaimed. Then again--"Yes, thank God it is!" Itsteadied his heart not a little to remember the picture in his mother'sBible that had so often stirred his youthful imagination of One standingin the fishing boat and bidding the storm be still. In the sprucethicket he stood some moments to regain his breath and strength. 

"Now what next?" he asked himself. Although the thicket broke the forceof the wind, something must be done, and quickly. Night was coming onand that meant an even intenser cold. His hands were numb. His huntingjacket was but slight protection against the driving wind and thebitter cold. If he could only light a fire! A difficult business in thistumultuous whirlwind and snow. He had learned something of this art, however, from his winter's experience. He began breaking from the sprucetrees the dead dry twigs. Oh for some birch bark! Like a forgottendream it came to him that from the tree top he had seen above the sprucethicket the tops of some white birch trees purpling under the touch ofspring. 

"Let's see! Those birches must be further to my left, " he said, recalling their position. Painfully he forced his way through thescrubby underbrush. His foot struck hard against an obstruction thatnearly threw him to the ground. It was a jutting rock. Peering throughthe white mass before his eyes, he could make out a great black, looming mass. Eagerly he pushed forward. It was a towering slab of rock. Following it round on the lee side, he suddenly halted with a shout ofgrateful triumph. A great section had fallen out of the rock, forming alittle cave, storm-proof and dry. 

"Thank God once more!" he said, and this time with even deeperreverence. "Now for a fire. If I could only get some birch bark. "

He placed his rifle in a corner of the cave and went out on his hunt. "By Jove, I must hurry, or my hands will be gone sure. " Looking upwardsin the shelter of the rock through the driving snow he saw the bare topsof trees. "Birch, too, as I am alive!" he cried, and plunging throughthe bushes came upon a clump of white birches. 

With fingers that could hardly hold the curling bark he gathered a fewbunches and hurried back to the cave. Again he went forth and gatheredfrom the standing trees an armful of dead dry limbs. "Good!" he criedaloud in triumph. "We're not beaten yet. Now for the fire and supper. "He drew forth his steel matchbox with numb and shaking fingers, openedit and stood stricken dumb. There were only three matches in the box. Unreasoning terror seized him. Three chances for life! He chose a match, struck it, but in his numb and nerveless fingers the match snappednear the head. With a new terror seizing him he took a second match andstruck it. The match flared, sputtering. Eagerly he thrust the birchbark at it; too eagerly, alas, for the bark rubbed out the tiny flame. He had one match left! One hope of life! He closed his matchbox. Hishands were trembling with the cold and more with nervous fear that shookhim in every limb. He could not bring himself to make the last attempt. Up and down the cave and out and in he stamped, beating his hands tobring back the blood and fighting hard to get back his nerve. 

"This is all rotten funk!" he cried aloud, raging at himself. "I shallnot be beaten. "

Summoning all his powers, he once more pulled out his matchbox, rubbedhis birch bark fine and, kneeling down, placed it between his kneesunder the shelter of his hunting jacket. Kneeling there with thematchbox in his hand, there fell upon his spirit a great calm. "Oh, God!" he said quietly and with the conviction in his soul that therewas One listening, "help me now. " He opened the matchbox, took out thematch, struck it carefully and laid it among the birch bark. For oneheart-racking moment it flickered unsteadily, then, catching a resinousfibre of the bark, it flared up, shot out a tiny tongue to one of theheavier bunches, caught hold, sputtered, smoked, burst into flame. Withthe prayer still going in his heart, "God help me now, " Cameron fed theflame with bits of bark and tiny twigs, adding more and more till thefire began to leap, dance, and snap, and at length gaining strength itroared its triumph over the grim terror so recently threatened. 

For the present at least the blizzard was beaten. 

"Now God be thanked for that, " said Cameron. "For it was past my doing. "

CHAPTER II

ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM

Shivering and hungry and fighting with sleep, Cameron stamped upand down his cave, making now and then excursions into the storm toreplenish his fire. On sharpened sticks slices of venison were cookingfor his supper. Outside the storm raged with greater violence than everand into the cave the bitter cold penetrated, effectually neutralizingthe warmth of the little fire, for the wood was hard to get and a largerfire he could not afford. 

He looked at his watch and was amazed to find it only five o'clock. Howlong could he maintain this fight? His heart sank at the prospect ofthe long night before him. He sat down upon the rock close beside hiscooking venison and in a few moments was fast asleep. 

He awoke with a start and found that the fire had crept along a juttingbranch and had reached his fingers. He sprang to his feet. The fire layin smouldering embers, for the sticks were mere brushwood. A terriblefear seized him. His life depended upon the maintaining of this fire. Carefully he assembled the embers and nursed them into bright flame. At all costs he must keep awake. A further excursion into the woods forfuel thoroughly roused him from his sleep. Soon his fire was blazingbrightly again. 

Consulting his watch, he found that he must have slept half an hour. Hedetermined that in order to keep himself awake and to provide againstthe growing cold he would lay in a stock of firewood, and so he began asystematic search for fallen trees that he might drag to his shelter. 

As he was setting forth upon his search he became aware of a new soundmingling with the roaring of the storm about him, a soft, pounding, rhythmic sound. With every nerve strained he listened. It was like thebeating of hoofs. He ran out into the storm and, holding his handsto his ears, bent forward to listen. Faintly over the roaring of theblizzard, and rising and falling with it, there came the sound ofsinging. 

"Am I mad?" he said to himself, beating his head with his hands. Herushed into the cave, threw upon the fire all the brushwood he hadgathered, until it sprang up into a great glare, lighting up the caveand its surroundings. Then he rushed forth once more to the turn of therock. The singing could now be plainly heard. 

"Three cheers for the red, white--Get on there, you variously colouredand multitudinously cursed brutes!--Three cheers for the red--Hie there, look out, Little Thunder! They are off to the left. "

"Hello!" yelled Cameron at the top of his voice. "Hello, there!"

"Whoa!" yelled a voice sharply. The sound of hoof beats ceased and onlythe roaring of the blizzard could be heard. 

"Hello!" cried Cameron again. "Who are you?" But only the gale answeredhim. 

Again and again he called, but no voice replied. Once more he rushedinto the cave, seized his rifle and fired a shot into the air. 

"Crack-crack, " two bullets spat against the rock over his head. 

"Hold on there, you fool!" yelled Cameron, dodging back behind the rock. "What are you shooting at? Hello there!" Still there was no reply. 

Long he waited till, desperate with anxiety lest his unknown visitorsshould abandon him, he ran forward once more beyond the ledge of therock, shouting, "Hello! Hello! Don't shoot! I'm coming out to you. "

At the turn of the rocky ledge he paused, concentrating his powers tocatch some sound other than the dull boom and hiss of the blizzard. Suddenly at his side something moved. 

"Put up your hands, quick!"

A dark shape, with arm thrust straight before it, loomed through thedrift of snow. 

"Oh, I say--" began Cameron. 

"Quick!" said the voice, with a terrible oath, "or I drop you where youstand. "

"All right!" said Cameron, lifting up his hands with his rifle highabove his head. "But hurry up! I can't stand this long. I am nearlyfrozen as it is. "

The man came forward, still covering him with his pistol. He ran hisfree hand over Cameron's person. 

"How many of you?" he asked, in a voice sharp and crisp. 

"I am all alone. But hurry up! I am about all in. "

"Lead on to your fire!" said the stranger. "But if you want to live, nomonkey work. I've got you lined. "

Cameron led the way to the fire. The stranger threw a swift glancearound the cave, then, with eyes still holding Cameron, he whistledshrilly on his fingers. Almost immediately, it seemed to Cameron, therecame into the light another man who proved to be an Indian, short, heavily built, with a face hideously ugly and rendered more repulsiveby the small, red-rimmed, blood-shot eyes that seemed to Cameron to peerlike gimlets into his very soul. 

At a word of command the Indian possessed himself of Cameron's rifle andstood at the entrance. 

"Now, " said the stranger, "talk quick. Who are you? How did you comehere? Quick and to the point. "

"I am a surveyor, " said Cameron briefly. "McIvor's gang. I was left atcamp to cook, saw a deer, wounded it, followed it up, lost my way, thestorm caught me, but, thank God, I found this cave, and with my lastmatch lit the fire. I was trying to cook my venison when I heard youcoming. "

The grey-brown eyes of the stranger never left Cameron's face while hewas speaking. 

"You're a liar!" he said with cold insolence when Cameron had finishedhis tale. "You look to me like a blank blank horse thief or whiskeytrader. "

Faint as he was with cold and hunger, the deliberate insolence of theman stirred Cameron to sudden rage. The blood flooded his pale face. 

"You coward!" he cried in a choking voice, gathering himself to springat the man's throat. 

But the stranger only laughed and, stepping backward, spoke a wordto the Indian behind him. Before he could move Cameron found himselfcovered by the rifle with the malignant eye of the Indian behind it. 

"Hold on, Little Thunder, drop it!" said the stranger with a slightlaugh. 

Reluctantly the rifle came down. 

"All right, Mr. Surveyor, " said the stranger with a good-natured laugh. "Pardon my abruptness. I was merely testing you. One cannot be toocareful in these parts nowadays when the woods are full of horse thievesand whiskey runners. Oh, come on, " he continued, glancing at Cameron'sface, "I apologise. So you're lost, eh? Hungry too? Well, so am I, andthough I was not going to feed just yet we may as well grub together. Bring the cattle into shelter here, " he said to Little Thunder. "Theywill stand right enough. And get busy with the grub. "

The Indian grunted a remonstrance. 

"Oh, that's all right, " replied the stranger. "Hand it over. " He tookCameron's rifle from the Indian and set it in the corner. "Now get amove on! We have no time to waste. "

So saying he hurried out himself into the storm. In a few minutesCameron could hear the blows of an axe, and soon the stranger appearedwith a load of dry wood with which he built up a blazing fire. Hewas followed shortly by the Indian, who from a sack drew out bacon, hardtack, and tea, and, with cooking utensils produced from anothersack, speedily prepared supper. 

"Pile in, " said the stranger to Cameron, passing him the pan in whichthe bacon and venison had been fried. "Pass the tea, Little Thunder. Notime to waste. We've got to hustle. "

Cameron was only too eager to obey these orders, and in the generouswarmth of the big fire and under the stimulus of the boiling tea hisstrength and nerve began to come back to him. 

For some minutes he was too intent on satisfying his ravenous hunger toindulge in conversation with his host, but as his hunger became appeasedhe began to give his attention to the man who had so mysteriously blownin upon him out of the blizzard. There was something fascinating aboutthe lean, clean-cut face with its firm lines about the mouth and chinand its deep set brown-grey eyes that glittered like steel or shonelike limpid pools of light according to the mood of the man. They wereextraordinary eyes. Cameron remembered them like dagger points behindthe pistol and then like kindly lights in a dark window when he hadsmiled. Just now as he sat eating with eager haste the eyes were staringforward into the fire out of deep sockets, with a far-away, reminiscent, kindly look in them. The lumberman's heavy skin-lined jacket and theoveralls tucked into boots could not hide the athletic lines of thelithe muscular figure. Cameron looked at his hands with their long, sinewy fingers. "The hands of a gentleman, " thought he. "What is hishistory? And where does he come from?"

"London's my home, " said the stranger, answering Cameron's mentalqueries. "Name, Raven--Richard Colebrooke Raven--Dick for short;rancher, horse and cattle trader; East Kootenay; at present running ina stock of goods and horses; and caught like yourself in this beastlyblizzard. "

"My name's Cameron, and I'm from Edinburgh a year ago, " replied Cameronbriefly. 

"Edinburgh? Knew it ten years ago. Quiet old town, quaint folk. Neverknow what they are thinking about you. "

Cameron smiled. How well he remembered the calm, detached, critical butuncurious gaze with which the dwellers of the modern Athens were wont toregard mere outsiders. 

"I know, " he said. "I came from the North myself. "

The stranger had apparently forgotten him and was gazing steadily intothe fire. Suddenly, with extraordinary energy, he sprang from the groundwhere he had been sitting. 

"Now, " he cried, "en avant!"

"Where to?" asked Cameron, rising to his feet. 

"East Kootenay, all the way, and hustle's the word. "

"Not me, " said Cameron. "I must get back to my camp. If you will kindlyleave me some grub and some matches I shall be all right and very muchobliged. McIvor will be searching for me to-morrow. "

"Ha!" burst forth the stranger in vehement expletive. "Searching foryou, heh?" He stood for a few moments in deep thought, then spoke to theIndian a few words in his own language. That individual, with a fierceglance towards Cameron, grunted a gruff reply. 

"No, no, " said Raven, also glancing at Cameron. Again the Indian spoke, this time with insistent fierceness. "No! no! you cold-blooded devil, "replied the trader. "No! But, " he added with emphasis, "we will take himwith us. Pack! Here, bring in coat, mitts, socks, Little Thunder. Andmove quick, do you hear?" His voice rang out in imperious command. 

Little Thunder, growling though he might, no longer delayed, but divedinto the storm and in a few moments returned bearing a bag from which hedrew the articles of clothing desired. 

"But I am not going with you, " said Cameron firmly. "I cannot desertmy chief this way. It would give him no end of trouble. Leave me somematches and, if you can spare it, a little grub, and I shall do finely. "

"Get these things on, " replied Raven, "and quit talking. Don't bea fool! we simply can't leave you behind. If you only knew thealternative, you'd--"

Cameron glanced at the Indian. The eager fierce look on that hideousface startled him. 

"We will send you back all safe in a few days, " continued the traderwith a smile. "Come, don't delay! March is the word. "

"I won't go!" said Cameron resolutely. "I'll stay where I am. "

"All right, you fool!" replied Raven with a savage oath. "Take yourmedicine then. "

He nodded to the Indian. With a swift gleam of joy in his red-rimmedeyes the Indian reached swiftly for Cameron's rifle. 

"No, too much noise, " said Raven, coolly finishing the packing. 

A swift flash of a knife in the firelight, and the Indian hurled himselfupon the unsuspecting Cameron. But quick as was the attack Cameron wasquicker. Gripping the Indian's uplifted wrist with his left hand, hebrought his right with terrific force upon the point of his assailant'schin. The Indian spun round like a top and pitched out into the dark. 

"Neatly done!" cried the trader with a great oath and a laugh. "Hold on, Little Thunder!" he continued, as the Indian reappeared, knife in hand, "He'll come now. Quiet, you beast! Ah-h-h! Would you?" He seized by thethroat and wrist the Indian, who, frothing with rage and snarling likea wild animal, was struggling to reach Cameron again. "Down, you dog! Doyou hear me?"

With a twist of his arms he brought the Indian to his knees and held himas he might a child. Quite suddenly the Indian grew still. 

"Good!" said Raven. "Now, no more of this. Pack up. "

Without a further word or glance at Cameron, Little Thunder gathered upthe stuff and vanished. 

"Now, " continued the trader, "you perhaps see that it would be wise foryou to come along without further delay. "

"All right, " said Cameron, trembling with indignant rage, "but remember, you'll pay for this. "

The trader smiled kindly upon him. 

"Better get these things on, " he said, pointing to the articles ofclothing upon the cave floor. "The blizzard is gathering force and wehave still some hours to ride. But, " he continued, stepping close toCameron and looking him in the eyes, "there must be no more nonsense. You can see my man is somewhat short in temper; and indeed mine israther brittle at times. "

For a single instant a smile curled the firm lips and half closed thesteely eyes of the speaker, and, noting the smile and the steely gleamin the grey-brown eyes, Cameron hastily decided that he would no longerresist. 

Warmed and fed and protected against the blizzard, but with his heartfull of indignant wrath, Cameron found himself riding on a wretchedcayuse before the trader whose horse could but dimly be seen through thestorm, but which from his antics appeared to be possessed of a thousanddemons. 

"Steady, Nighthawk, old boy! We'll get 'em moving after a bit, " saidhis master, soothing the kicking beast. "Aha, that was just a shadeviolent, " he remonstrated, as the horse with a scream rushed openmouthed at a blundering pony and sent him scuttling forward in wildterror after the bunch already disappearing down the trail, followingLittle Thunder upon his broncho. 

The blizzard was now in their back and, though its force was therebygreatly lessened, the black night was still thick with whirling snow andthe cold grew more intense every moment. Cameron could hardly see hispony's ears, but, loping easily along the levels, scrambling wildly upthe hills, and slithering recklessly down the slopes, the little brutefollowed without pause the cavalcade in front. How they kept the trailCameron could not imagine, but, with the instinct of their breed, theponies never faltered. Far before in the black blinding storm couldbe heard the voice of Little Thunder, rising and falling in a kind ofsinging chant, a chant which Cameron was afterwards to know right well. 

 "Kai-yai, hai-yah! Hai! Hai!! Hai!!! Kai-yai, hai-yah! Hai! Hai!! Hai!!!"

Behind him came the trader, riding easily his demon-spirited broncho, and singing in full baritone the patriotic ode dear to Britishers theworld over:

 "Three cheers for the red, white and blue! Three cheers for the red, white and blue! The army and navy for ever, Three cheers for the red, white and blue!"

As Cameron went pounding along through the howling blizzard, halfasleep upon his loping, scrambling, slithering pony, with the "Kai-yai, hai-yah" of Little Thunder wailing down the storm from before him andthe martial notes of the trader behind him demanding cheers for HerMajesty's naval and military forces, he seemed to himself to be in thegrip of some ghastly nightmare which, try as he might, he was unable toshake off. 

The ghastly unreality of the nightmare was dispelled by the sudden haltof the bunch of ponies in front. 

"All off!" cried the trader, riding forward upon his broncho, which, apparently quite untired by the long night ride, danced forward throughthe bunch gaily biting and slashing as he went. "All off! Get them intothe 'bunk-house' there, Little Thunder. Come along, Mr. Cameron, we havereached our camp. Take off the bridle and blanket and let your pony go. "

Cameron did as he was told, and guided by the sound of the trader'svoice made his way to a low log building which turned out to be thedeserted "grub-house" of an old lumber camp. 

"Come along, " cried the trader heartily. "Welcome to Fifty Mile Camp. Its accommodation is somewhat limited, but we can at least offer youa bunk, grub, and fire, and these on a night like this are not to bedespised. " He fumbled around in the dark for a few moments and found andlit a candle stuck in an empty bottle. "There, " he cried in a tone ofgenial hospitality and with a kindly smile, "get a fire on here and makeyourself at home. Nighthawk demands my attention for the present. Don'tlook so glum, old boy, " he added, slapping Cameron gaily on the back. "The worst is over. " So saying, he disappeared into the blizzard, singing at the top of his voice in the cheeriest possible tones:

 "The army and navy for ever, Three cheers for the red, white and blue!"

and leaving Cameron sorely perplexed as to what manner of man this mightbe; who one moment could smile with all the malevolence of a fiend andagain could welcome him with all the generous and genial hospitality hemight show to a loved and long-lost friend. 

CHAPTER III

THE STONIES

The icy cold woke Cameron as the grey light came in through the dirtywindows and the cracks between the logs of the grub-house. AlreadyLittle Thunder was awake and busy with the fire in the cracked and rustystove. Cameron lay still and watched. Silently, swiftly the Indian movedabout his work till the fire began to roar and the pot of snow on thetop to melt. Then the trader awoke. With a single movement he was outupon the floor. 

"All hands awake!" he shouted. "Aha, Mr. Cameron! Good sleep, eh? Sleptlike a bear myself. Now grub, and off! Still blowing, eh? Well, somuch the better. There is a spot thirty miles on where we will be snugenough. How's breakfast, Little Thunder? This is our only chance to-day, so don't spare the grub. "

Cameron made but slight reply. He was stiff and sore with the cold andthe long ride of the day before. This, however, he minded but little. Ifhe could only guess what lay before him. He was torn between anxiety andindignation. He could hardly make himself believe that he was alive andin his waking senses. Twenty-four hours ago he was breakfasting withMcIvor and his gang in the camp by The Bow; now he was twenty or thirtymiles away in the heart of the mountains and practically a prisoner inthe hands of as blood-thirsty a looking Indian as he had ever seen, anda man who remained to him an inexplicable mystery. Who and what wasthis man? He scanned his face in the growing light. Strength, daring, alertness, yes, and kindliness, he read in the handsome, brown, leanface of this stranger, lit by its grey-brown hazel eyes and set offwith brown wavy hair which the absence of a cap now for the first timerevealed. 

"He looks all right, " Cameron said to himself. And yet when he recalledthe smile that had curled these thin lips and half closed these hazeleyes in the cave the night before, and when he thought of that murderousattack of his Indian companion, he found it difficult wholly to trustthe man who was at once his rescuer and his captor. 

In the days of the early eighties there were weird stories floatingabout through the Western country of outlaw Indian traders whose chiefstock for barter was a concoction which passed for whiskey, but theingredients of which were principally high wines and tobacco juice, witha little molasses to sweeten it and a touch of blue stone to giveit bite. Men of reckless daring were these traders, resourceful andrelentless. For a bottle of their "hell-fire fluid" they would buy abuffalo hide, a pack of beaver skins, or a cayuse from an Indian withouthesitation or remorse. With a keg or two of their deadly brew they wouldapproach a tribe and strip it bare of a year's catch of furs. 

In the fierce fights that often followed, the Indian, poorly armed andhalf dead with the poison he had drunk, would come off second best andmany a wretched native was left to burn and blister upon the plainsor among the coulees at the foothills to mark the trail of the whiskeyrunners. 

In British territory all this style of barter was of course unlawful. The giving, selling, or trading of any sort of intoxicant to the Indianswas absolutely prohibited. But it was a land of vast and mighty spaces, and everywhere were hiding places where armies could be safely disposed, and therefore there was small chance for the enforcement of the laws ofthe Dominion. There was little risk to the whiskey runners; and, indeed, however great the risk, the immense profits of their trade would havemade them willing to take it. 

Hence all through the Western plains the whiskey runners had their wayto the degradation and demoralization of the unhappy natives and tothe rapid decimation of their numbers. Horse thieves, too, and cattle"rustlers" operating on both sides of "the line" added to the generalconfusion and lawlessness that prevailed and rendered the lives andproperty of the few pioneer settlers insecure. 

It was to deal with this situation that the Dominion Governmentorganised and despatched the North West Mounted Police to WesternCanada. Immediately upon the advent of this famous corps matters beganto improve. The open ravages of the whiskey runners ceased and thesedaring outlaws were forced to carry on their fiendish business bymidnight marches and through the secret trails and coulees of thefoothills. The profits of the trade, however, were still great enoughto tempt the more reckless and daring of these men. Cattle rustlingand horse stealing still continued, but on a much smaller scale. To thewhole country the advent of the police proved an incalculable blessing. But to the Indian tribes especially was this the case. The natives soonlearned to regard the police officers as their friends. In them theyfound protection from the unscrupulous traders who had hitherto cheatedthem without mercy or conscience, as well as from the whiskey runnersthrough whose devilish activities their people had suffered irreparableloss. 

The administration of the law by the officers of the police with firmand patient justice put an end also to the frequent and bloody wars thathad prevailed previously between the various tribes, till, by these wildand savage people the red coat came to be regarded with mingled awe andconfidence, a terror to evil-doers and a protection to those that didwell. 

To which class did this man belong? This Cameron was utterly unable todecide. 

With this problem vexing his mind he ate his breakfast in almostcomplete silence, making only monosyllabic replies to the trader'scheerful attempts at conversation. 

Suddenly, with disconcerting accuracy, the trader seemed to read hismind. 

"Now, Mr. Cameron, " he said, pulling out his pipe, "we will have a smokeand a chat. Fill up. " He passed Cameron his little bag of tobacco. "Lastnight things were somewhat strained, " he continued. "Frankly, I confess, I took you at first for a whiskey runner and a horse thief, and havingsuffered from these gentlemen considerably I was taking no chances. "

"Why force me to go with you, then?" asked Cameron angrily. 

"Why? For your good. There is less danger both to you--and to me--withyou under my eye, " replied the trader with a smile. 

"Yet your man would have murdered me?"

"Well, you see Little Thunder is one of the Blood Tribe and rather swiftwith his knife at times, I confess. Besides, his family has suffered atthe hands of the whiskey runners. He is a chief and he owes it to thesedevils that he is out of a job just now. You may imagine he is somewhattouchy on the point of whiskey traders. 

"It was you set him on me, " said Cameron, still wrathful. 

"No, no, " said the trader, laughing quietly. "That was merely to startleyou out of your, pardon me, unreasonable obstinacy. You must believe meit was the only thing possible that you should accompany us, for if youwere a whiskey runner then it was better for us that you should be underguard, and if you were a surveyor it was better for you that you shouldbe in our care. Why, man, this storm may go for three days, and youwould be stiff long before anyone could find you. No, no, I confess ourmeasures may have seemed somewhat--ah--abrupt, but, believe me, theywere necessary, and in a day or two you will acknowledge that I am inthe right of it. Meantime let's trust each other, and there is my handon it, Cameron. "

There was no resisting the frank smile, the open manner of the man, andCameron took the offered hand with a lighter heart than he had known forthe last twelve hours. 

"Now, then, that's settled, " cried the trader, springing to his feet. "Cameron, you can pack this stuff together while Little Thunder and Idig out our bunch of horses. They will be half frozen and it will behard to knock any life into them. "

It was half an hour before Cameron had his packs ready, and, there beingno sign of the trader, he put on his heavy coat, mitts, and cap andfought his way through the blizzard, which was still raging in fullforce, to the bunk-house, a log building about thirty feet long and halfas wide, in which were huddled the horses and ponies to the number ofabout twenty. Eight of the ponies carried pack saddles, and so busy wereRaven and the Indian with the somewhat delicate operation of assemblingthe packs that he was close upon them before they were aware. Boxes andbags were strewn about in orderly disorder, and on one side were severalsmall kegs. As Cameron drew near, the Indian, who was the first tonotice him, gave a grunt. 

"What the blank blank are you doing here?" cried Raven with a stringof oaths, flinging a buffalo robe over the kegs. "My word! You startledme, " he added with a short laugh. "I haven't got used to you yet. Allright, Little Thunder, get these boxes together. Bring that grey cayusehere, Cameron, the one with the rope on near the door. "

This was easier said than done, for the half-broken brute snorted andplunged till Cameron, taking a turn of the rope round his nose, forcedhim up through the trembling, crowding bunch. 

"Good!" said the trader. "You are all right. You didn't learn to rope acayuse in Edinburgh, I guess. Here's his saddle. Cinch it on. "

While Cameron was engaged in carrying out these orders Little Thunderand the trader were busy roping boxes and kegs into pack loads with askill and dexterity that could only be the result of long practice. 

"Now, then, Cameron, we'll load some of this molasses on your pony. "

So saying, Raven picked up one of the kegs. 

"Hello, Little Thunder, this keg's leaking. It's lost the plug, as I'm asinner. "

Sure enough, from a small auger hole golden syrup was streaming over theedge of the keg. 

"I am certain I put that plug in yesterday, " said Raven. "Must have beenknocked out last night. Fortunately it stood right end up or we shouldhave lost the whole keg. "

While he was speaking he was shaping a small stick into a small plug, which he drove tight into the keg. 

"That will fix it, " he said. "Now then, put these boxes on the otherside. That will do. Take your pony toward the door and tie him there. Little Thunder and I will load the rest and bring them up. "

In a very short time all the remaining goods were packed into neat loadsand lashed upon the pack ponies in such a careful manner that neitherbox nor keg could be seen outside the cover of blankets and buffaloskins. 

"Now then, " cried Raven. "Boots and saddles! We will give you a bettermount to-day, " he continued, selecting a stout built sorrel pony. "Thereyou are! And a dandy he is, sure-footed as a goat and easy as a cradle. Now then, Nighthawk, we shall just clear out this bunch. "

As he spoke he whipped the blanket off his horse. Cameron could notforbear an exclamation of wonder and admiration as his eyes fellupon Raven's horse. And not without reason, for Nighthawk was asnear perfection as anything in horse flesh of his size could be. Hiscoal-black satin skin, his fine flat legs, small delicate head, slopinghips, round and well ribbed barrel, all showed his breed. Rolling up theblanket, Raven strapped it to his saddle and, flinging himself astridehis horse, gave a yell that galvanised the wretched, shivering, dispirited bunch into immediate life and activity. 

"Get out the packers there, Little Thunder. Hurry up! Don't be all day. Cameron, fall behind with me. "

Little Thunder seized the leading line of the first packer, leapedastride his own pony, and pushed out into the storm. But the rest of theanimals held back and refused to face the blizzard. The traditions ofthe cayuse are unheroic in the matter of blizzards and are all in favorof turning tail to every storm that blows. But Nighthawk soon overcametheir reluctance, whether traditional or otherwise. With a fury nothingless than demoniacal he fell upon the animals next him and inspired themwith such terror that, plunging forward, they carried the bunch crowdingthrough the door. It was no small achievement to turn some twentyshivering, balky, stubborn cayuses and bronchos out of their shelterand swing them through the mazes of the old lumber camp into the trailagain. But with Little Thunder breaking the trail and chanting hisencouraging refrain in front and the trader and his demoniac stalliondynamically bringing up the rear, this achievement was effected withoutthe straying of a single animal. Raven was in great spirits, singing, shouting, and occasionally sending Nighthawk open-mouthed in a fiercecharge upon the laggards hustling the long straggling line onwardsthrough the whirling drifts without pause or falter. Occasionally hedropped back beside Cameron, who brought up the rear, bringing a word ofencouragement or approval. 

"How do they ever keep the trail?" asked Cameron on one of theseoccasions. 

"Little Thunder does the trick. He is the greatest tracker in thiscountry, unless it is his cayuse, which has a nose like a bloodhound andwill keep the trail through three feet of snow. The rest of the bunchfollow. They are afraid to do anything else in a blizzard like this. "

So hour after hour, upward along mountainsides, for by this time theywere far into the Rockies, and down again through thick standing forestsin the valleys, across ravines and roaring torrents which the warmweather of the previous days had released from the glaciers, and overbenches of open country, where the grass lay buried deep beneaththe snow, they pounded along. The clouds of snow ever whirling aboutCameron's head and in front of his eyes hid the distant landscape andengulfed the head of the cavalcade before him. Without initiative andwithout volition, but in a dreamy haze, he sat his pony to which heentrusted his life and fortune and waited for the will of his mysteriouscompanion to develope. 

About mid-day Nighthawk danced back out of the storm ahead and droppedin beside Cameron's pony. 

"A chinook coming, " said Raven. "Getting warmer, don't you notice?"

"No, I didn't notice, but now that you call attention to it I do feel alittle more comfortable, " replied Cameron. 

"Sure thing. Rain in an hour. "

"An hour? In six perhaps. "

"In less than an hour, " replied Raven, "the chinook will be here. We'reriding into it. It blows down through the pass before us and it willlick up this snow in no time. You'll see the grass all about you beforethree hours are passed. "

The event proved the truth of Raven's prediction. With incrediblerapidity the temperature continued to rise. In half an hour Camerondiscarded his mitts and unbuttoned his skin-lined jacket. The winddropped to a gentle breeze, swinging more and more into the southwest, and before the hour was gone the sun was shining fitfully again and thesnow had changed into a drizzling rain. 

The extraordinary suddenness of these atmospheric changes only increasedthe sense of phantasmic unreality with which Cameron had been strugglingduring the past thirty-six hours. As the afternoon wore on the airbecame sensibly warmer. The moisture rose in steaming clouds fromthe mountainsides, the snow ran everywhere in gurgling rivulets, therivulets became streams, the streams rivers, and the mountain torrentswhich they had easily forded earlier in the day threatened to sweep themaway. 

The trader's spirits appeared to rise with the temperature. He was inhigh glee. It was as if he had escaped some imminent peril. 

"We will make it all right!" he shouted to Little Thunder as they pausedfor a few moments in a grassy glade. "Can we make the Forks beforedark?"

Little Thunder's grunt might mean anything, but to the trader itexpressed doubt. 

"On then!" he shouted. "We must make these brutes get a move on. They'llfeed when we camp. "

So saying he hurled his horse upon the straggling bunch of ponies thatwere eagerly snatching mouthfuls of grass from which the chinook hadalready melted the snow. Mercilessly and savagely the trader, with whipand voice and charging stallion, hustled the wretched animals into thetrail once more. And through the long afternoon, with unceasing andbrutal ferocity, he belabored the faltering, stumbling, half-starvedcreatures, till from sheer exhaustion they were like to fall upon thetrail. It was a weary business and disgusting, but the demon spirit ofNighthawk seemed to have passed into his master, and with an insistencethat knew no mercy together they battered that wretched bunch up anddown the long slopes till at length the merciful night fell upon thestraggling, stumbling cavalcade and made a rapid pace impossible. 

At the head of a long slope Little Thunder came to an abrupt halt, rodeto the rear and grunted something to his chief. 

"What?" cried Raven in a startled voice. "Stonies! Where?"

Little Thunder pointed. 

"Did they see you?" This insult Little Thunder disdained to notice. "Good!" replied Raven. "Stay here, Cameron, we will take a look atthem. "

In a very few minutes he returned, an eager tone in his voice, an eagergleam in his eyes. 

"Stonies!" he exclaimed. "And a big camp. On their way back from theirwinter's trapping. Old Macdougall himself in charge, I think. Do youknow him?"

"I have heard of him, " said Cameron, and his tone indicated hisreverence for the aged pioneer Methodist missionary who had accomplishedsuch marvels during his long years of service with his Indian flock andhad gained such a wonderful control over them. 

"Yes, he is all right, " replied Raven, answering his tone. "He is ashrewd old boy, though. Looks mighty close after the trading end. Well, we will perhaps do a little trade ourselves. But we won't disturb theold man, " he continued, as if to himself. "Come and take a look atthem. "

Little Thunder had halted at a spot where the trail forked. One part ledto the right down the long slope of the mountain, the other to the left, gradually climbing toward the top. The Stonies had come by the righthand trail and were now camped off the trail on a little sheltered benchfurther down the side of the mountain and surrounded by a scatteringgroup of tall pines. Through the misty night their camp fires burnedcheerily, lighting up their lodges. Around the fires could be seengroups of men squatted on the ground and here and there among the lodgesthe squaws were busy, evidently preparing the evening meal. At one sideof the camp could be distinguished a number of tethered ponies and nearthem others quietly grazing. 

But though the camp lay only a few hundred yards away and on a lowerlevel, not a sound came up from it to Cameron's ears except theoccasional bark of a dog. The Indians are a silent people and movenoiselessly through Nature's solitudes as if in reverence for her sacredmysteries. 

"We won't disturb them, " said Raven in a low tone. "We will slip pastquietly. "

"They come from Morleyville, don't they?" enquired Cameron. 

"Yes. "

"Why not visit the camp?" exclaimed Cameron eagerly. "I am sure Mr. Macdougall would be glad to see us. And why could not I go back withhim? My camp is right on the trail to Morleyville. "

Raven stood silent, evidently perplexed. 

"Well, " he replied hesitatingly, "we shall see later. Meantime let's getinto camp ourselves. And no noise, please. " His voice was low and stern. 

Silently, and as swiftly as was consistent with silence, Little Thunderled his band of pack horses along the upper trail, the trader andCameron bringing up the rear with the other ponies. For about half amile they proceeded in this direction, then, turning sharply to theright, they cut across through the straggling woods, and so came uponthe lower trail, beyond the encampment of the Stonies and well out ofsight of it. 

"We camp here, " said Raven briefly. "But remember, no noise. "

"What about visiting their camp?" enquired Cameron. 

"There is no immediate hurry. "

He spoke a few words to Little Thunder in Indian. 

"Little Thunder thinks they may be Blackfeet. We can't be too careful. Now let's get grub. "

Cameron made no reply. The trader's hesitating manner awakened all hisformer suspicions. He was firmly convinced the Indians were Stonies andhe resolved that come what might he would make his escape to their camp. 

Without unloading their packs they built their fire upon a large flatrock and there, crouching about it, for the mists were chilly, they hadtheir supper. 

In undertones Raven and Little Thunder conversed in the Indian speech. The gay careless air of the trader had given place to one of keen, purposeful determination. There was evidently serious business on foot. Immediately after supper Little Thunder vanished into the mist. 

"We may as well make ourselves comfortable, " said Raven, pulling acouple of buffalo skins from a pack and giving one to Cameron. "LittleThunder is gone to reconnoiter. " He threw some sticks upon the fire. "Better go to sleep, " he suggested. "We shall probably visit the camp inthe morning if they should prove to be Stonies. "

Cameron made no reply, but, lying down upon his buffalo skin, pretendedto sleep, though with the firm resolve to keep awake. But he had passedthrough an exhausting day and before many minutes had passed he fellinto a doze. 

From this he awoke with a start, his ears filled with the sound ofsinging. Beyond the fire lay Raven upon his face, apparently soundasleep. The singing came from the direction of the Indian camp. Noiselessly he rose and stole up the trail to a point from which thecamp was plainly visible. A wonderful scene lay before his eyes. A greatfire burned in the centre of the camp and round the fire the whole bandof Indians was gathered with their squaws in the background. In thecentre of the circle stood a tall man with a venerable beard, apparentlyreading. After he had read the sound of singing once more rose upon thenight air. 

"Stonies, all right, " said Cameron exultantly to himself. "And atevening prayers, too, by Jove. "

He remembered hearing McIvor tell how the Stonies never went on ahunting expedition without their hymn books and never closed a daywithout their evening worship. The voices were high-pitched and thin, but from that distance they floated up soft and sweet. He could clearlydistinguish the music of the old Methodist hymn, the words of which werequite familiar to him:

 "There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood. Lose all their guilty stains. "

Over and over again, with strange wild cadences of their own invention, the worshippers wailed forth the refrain, "Lose all their guilty stains. "

Then, all kneeling, they went to prayer. Over all, the misty moonstruggling through the broken clouds cast a pale and ghostly light. Itwas, to Cameron with his old-world religious conventions and traditions, a weirdly fascinating but intensely impressive scene. Afar beyond thevalley, appeared in dim outline the great mountains, with their headsthrust up into the sky. Nearer at their bases gathered the pines, atfirst in solid gloomy masses, then, as they approached, in stragglinggroups, and at last singly, like tall sentinels on guard. On thegrassy glade, surrounded by the sentinel pines, the circle of duskyworshippers, kneeling about their camp fire, lifted their facesheavenward and their hearts God-ward in prayer, and as upon those duskyfaces the firelight fell in fitful gleams, so upon their hearts, darkwith the superstitions of a hundred generations, there fell the gleamsof the torch held high by the hands of their dauntless ambassador of theblessed Gospel of the Grace of God. 

With mingled feelings of reverence and of pity Cameron stood gazing downupon this scene, resolved more than ever to attach himself to this campwhose days closed with evening prayer. 

"Impressive scene!" said a mocking voice in his ear. 

Cameron started. A sudden feeling of repulsion seized him. 

"Yes, " he said gravely, "an impressive scene, in my eyes at least, and Ishould not wonder if in the eyes of God as well. "

"Who knows?" said Raven gruffly, as they both turned back to the fire. 

CHAPTER IV

THE DULL RED STAIN

The minutes passed slowly. The scene in the camp of the Stonies that hehad just witnessed drove all sleep from Cameron. He was firmly resolvedthat at the first opportunity he would make his break for liberty; forhe was now fully aware that though not confessedly he was none the lessreally a prisoner. 

As he lay intently thinking, forming and discarding plans of escape, twoIndians, followed by Little Thunder, walked quietly within the circle ofthe firelight and with a nod and a grunt towards Raven sat down bythe fire. Raven passed his tobacco bag, which, without a word, theyaccepted; and, filling their pipes, they gravely began to smoke. 

"White Cloud, " grunted Little Thunder, waving his hand to the firstIndian. "Big Chief. Him, " pointing to the second Indian, "White Cloudbrother. "

"My brothers had good hunting this year, " said Raven. 

The Indians grunted for reply. 

"Your packs are heavy?"

Another grunt made answer. 

"We have much goods, " continued Raven. "But the time is short. Come andsee. "

Raven led them out into the dark towards the pack horse, Little Thunderremaining by the fire. From the darkness Cameron could hear Raven'svoice in low tones and the Indians' guttural replies mingled withunusual laughter. 

When they returned the change in their appearance was plainly visible. Their eyes were gleaming with an unnatural excitement, their graveand dignified demeanour had given place to an eager, almost childishexcitement. Cameron did not need the whiff that came to him from theirbreath to explain the cause of this sudden change. The signs were to himonly too familiar. 

"My brothers will need to hurry, " said Raven. "We move when the moon ishigh. "

"Good!" replied White Cloud. "Go, quick. " He waved his hand toward thedark. "Come. " He brought it back again. "Heap quick. " Without furtherword they vanished, silent as the shadows that swallowed them up. 

"Now, then, Cameron, we have big business on foot. Up and give us ahand. Little Thunder, take the bunch down the trail a couple of milesand come back. "

Selecting one of the pack ponies, he tied it to a pine tree and theothers he hurried off with Little Thunder down the trail. 

"Going to do some trading, are you?" enquired Cameron. 

"Yes, if the price is right, though I'm not too keen, " replied Raven, throwing himself down beside the fire. 

"What are you after? Furs?"

"Yes, furs mostly. Anything they have to offer. "

"What do you give in exchange?"

Raven threw him a sharp glance, but Cameron's face was turned toward thefire. 

"Oh, various articles. Wearing apparel, tobacco, finery. Molasses too. They are very fond of molasses. "

"Molasses?" echoed Cameron, with a touch of scorn. "It was not molassesthey had to-night. Why did you give them whiskey?" he asked boldly. 

Raven started. His eyes narrowed to two piercing points. 

"Why? That's my business, my friend. I keep a flask to treat my guestsoccasionally. Have you any objection?"

"It is against the law, I understand, and mighty bad for the Indians. "

"Against the law?" echoed Raven in childlike surprise. "You don't tellme!"

"So the Mounted Police declare, " said Cameron, turning his eyes uponRaven's face. 

"The Mounted Police!" exclaimed Raven, pouring forth a flood of oaths. "That! for the Mounted Police!" he said, snapping his fingers. 

"But, " replied Cameron, "I understood you very especially to object tothe operations of the whiskey runners?"

"Whiskey runners? Who's speaking of whiskey runners? I'm talking ofthe approved method of treating our friends in this country, and if thepolice should interfere between me and my friends they would be carryingthings a little too far. But all the same, " he continued, hastilychecking himself, "the police are all right. They put down a lot oflawlessness in this country. But I may as well say to you here, Mr. Cameron, " he continued, "that there are certain things it is best not tosee, or, having seen, to speedily forget. " As he spoke these words hiseyes narrowed again to two grey points that seemed to bore right throughto Cameron's brain. 

"This man is a very devil, " thought Cameron to himself. "I was a foolnot to see it before. " But to the trader he said, "There are some thingsI would rather not see and some things I cannot forget. "

Before another hour had passed the Stonies reappeared, this time onponies. The trader made no move to meet them. He sat quietly smoking bythe fire. Silently the Indians approached the fire and threw down a packof furs. 

"Huh!" said White Cloud. "Good! Ver good!" He opened his pack and spreadout upon the rock with impressive deliberation its contents. And goodthey were, even to Cameron's uncultured eye. Wolf skins and bear, cinnamon and black, beaver, fox, and mink, as well as some magnificentspecimens of mountain goat and sheep. "Good! Good! Big--fine--heapgood!" White Cloud continued to exclaim as he displayed his collection. 

Raven turned them over carelessly, feeling the furs, examining andweighing the pelts. Then going to the pack horse he returned and spreadout upon the rock beside the furs the goods which he proposed to offerin exchange. And a pitiful display it was, gaudy calicoes and flimsyflannels, the brilliance of whose colour was only equalled by theshoddiness of the material, cheap domestic blankets, half wool halfcotton, prepared especially for the Indian trade. These, with beads andbuttons, trinkets, whole strings of brass rings, rolls of tobacco, bagsof shot and powder, pot metal knives, and other articles, all bearingthe stamp of glittering fraud, constituted his stock for barter. The Indians made strenuous efforts to maintain an air of dignifiedindifference, but the glitter in their eyes betrayed their eagerness. White Cloud picked up a goat skin, heavy with its deep silky fur andwith its rich splendour covered over the glittering mass of Raven'scheap and tawdry stuff. 

"Good trade, " said White Cloud. "Him, " pointing to the skin, "and, "turning it back, "him, " laying his hand upon the goods beneath. 

Raven smiled carelessly, pulled out a flask from his pocket, took adrink and passed it to the others. Desperately struggling to suppresshis eagerness and to maintain his dignified bearing, White Cloud seizedthe flask and, drinking long and deep, passed it to his brother. 

"Have a drink, Cameron, " said Raven, as he received his flask again. 

"No!" said Cameron shortly. "And I would suggest to your friends thatthey complete the trade before they drink much more. "

"My friend here says this is no good, " said Raven to the Indians, tapping the flask with his finger. "He says no more drink. "

White Cloud shot a keen enquiring glance at Cameron, but he made noreply other than to stretch out his hand for Raven's flask again. Beforemany minutes the efficacy of Raven's methods of barter began to beapparent. The Indians lost their grave and dignified demeanour. Theybecame curious, eager, garrulous, and demonstrative. With childish gleethey began examining more closely Raven's supply of goods, trying on therings, draping themselves in the gaudy calicoes and flannels. At lengthRaven rolled up his articles of barter and set them upon one side. 

"How much?" he said. 

White Cloud selected the goat skin, laid upon it some half dozen beaverand mink, and a couple of foxes, and rolling them up in a pile laid thembeside Raven's bundle. 

The trader smiled and shook his head. "No good. No good. " So saying hetook from his pack another flask and laid it upon his pile. 

Instantly the Indian increased his pile by a bear skin, a grey wolf, anda mountain goat. Then, without waiting for Raven's words, he reached forthe flask. 

"No, not yet, " said Raven quietly, laying his hand down upon the flask. 

The Indian with gleaming eyes threw on the pile some additional skins. 

"Good!" said Raven, surrendering the flask. Swiftly the Indian caught itup and, seizing the cork in his teeth, bit it off close to the neckof the flask. Snatching his knife from his pocket with almost franticenergy, he proceeded to dig out the imbedded cork. 

"Here, " said Raven, taking the flask from him. "Let me have it. " Fromhis pocket he took a knife containing a corkscrew and with this he drewthe cork and handed the flask back to the Indian. 

With shameless, bestial haste the Indian placed the bottle to his lipsand after a long pull passed it to his waiting brother. 

At this point Raven rose as if to close the negotiations and took outhis own flask for a final drink, but found it empty. 

"Aha!" he exclaimed, turning the empty flask upside down. At once theIndian passed him his flask. Raven, however, waved him aside and, goingto his pack, drew out a tin oil can which would contain about a gallon. From this with great deliberation he filled his flask. 

"Huh!" exclaimed the Indian, pointing to the can. "How much?"

Raven shook his head. "No sell. For me, " he answered, tapping himself onthe breast. 

"How much?" said the Indian fiercely. 

Still Raven declined to sell. 

Swiftly the Indian gathered up the remaining half of his pack of fursand, throwing them savagely at Raven's feet, seized the can. 

Still Raven refused to let it go. 

At this point the soft padding of a loping pony was heard coming up thetrail and in a few minutes Little Thunder silently took his place inthe circle about the fire. Cameron's heart sank within him, for now itseemed as if his chance of escape had slipped from him. 

Raven spoke a few rapid words to Little Thunder, who entered intoconversation with the Stonies. At length White Cloud drew from hiscoat a black fox skin. In spite of himself Raven uttered a slightexclamation. It was indeed a superb pelt. With savage hate in every lineof his face and in every movement of his body, the Indian flung the skinupon the pile of furs and without a "By your leave" seized the can andpassed it to his brother. 

At this point Raven, with a sudden display of reckless generosity, placed his own flask upon the Indian's pile of goods. 

"Ask them if they want molasses, " said Raven to Little Thunder. 

"No, " grunted the Indian contemptuously, preparing to depart. 

"Ask them, Little Thunder. "

Immediately as Little Thunder began to speak the contemptuous attitudeof the Stonies gave place to one of keen interest and desire. After somefurther talk Little Thunder went to the pack-pony, returned bearing asmall keg and set it on the rock beside Raven's pile of furs. Hastilythe Stonies consulted together, White Cloud apparently reluctant, thebrother recklessly eager to close the deal. Finally with a gesture WhiteCloud put an end to the conversation, stepped out hastily into thedark and returned leading his pony into the light. Cutting asunder thelashings with his knife, he released a bundle of furs and threw it downat Raven's feet. 

"Same ting. Good!" he said. 

But Raven would not look at the bundle and proceeded to pack up thespoils of his barter. Earnestly the Stonies appealed to Little Thunder, but in vain. Angrily they remonstrated, but still without result. Atlength Little Thunder pointed to the pony and without hesitation WhiteCloud placed the bridle rein in his hands. 

Cameron could contain himself no longer. Suddenly rising from his placehe strode to the side of the Indians and cried, "Don't do it! Don't besuch fools! This no good, " he said, kicking the keg. "What would Mr. Macdougall say? Come! I go with you. Take back these furs. "

He stepped forward to seize the second pack. Swiftly Little Thunderleaped before him, knife in hand, and crouched to spring. The Stonieshad no doubt as to his meaning. Their hearts were filled with blackrage against the unscrupulous trader, but their insane thirst for the"fire-water" swept from their minds every other consideration but thatof determination to gratify this mad lust. Unconsciously they rangedthemselves beside Cameron, their hands going to their belts. QuietlyRaven spoke a few rapid words to Little Thunder, who, slowly puttingup his knife, made a brief but vigourous harangue to the Stonies, theresult of which was seen in the doubtful glances which they cast uponCameron from time to time. 

"Come on!" cried Cameron again, laying his hand upon the nearest Indian. "Let's go to your camp. Take your furs. He is a thief, a robber, abad man. All that, " sweeping his hand towards Raven's goods, "no good. This, " kicking the keg, "bad. Kill you. "

These words they could not entirely understand, but his gestures weresufficiently eloquent and significant. There was an ugly gleam inRaven's eyes and an ugly curl to his thin lips, but he only smiled. 

"Come, " he said, waving his hand toward the furs, "take them away. Tellthem we don't want to trade, Little Thunder. " He pulled out his flask, slowly took a drink, and passed it to Little Thunder, who greedilyfollowed his example. "Tell them we don't want to trade at all, "insisted Raven. 

Little Thunder volubly explained the trader's wishes. 

"Good-bye, " said Raven, offering his hand to White Cloud. "Goodfriends, " he added, once more passing him his flask. 

"Don't!" said Cameron, laying his hand again upon the Indian's arm. Fora single instant White Cloud paused. 

"Huh!" grunted Little Thunder in contempt. "Big chief scared. "

Quickly the Stony shook off Cameron's hand, seized the flask and, putting it to his lips, drained it dry. 

"Come, " said Cameron to the other Stony. "Come with me. "

Raven uttered a warning word to Little Thunder. The Indians stood forsome moments uncertain, their heads bowed upon their breasts. Then WhiteCloud, throwing back his head and looking Cameron full in the face, said--"Good man. Good man. Me no go. "

"Then I go alone, " cried Cameron, springing off into the darkness. 

As he turned his foot caught the pile of wood brought for the fire. He tripped and stumbled almost to the ground. Before he could recoverhimself Little Thunder, swift as a wildcat, leaped upon his back withhis ever-ready knife in his upraised hand, but before he could strike, Cameron had turned himself and throwing the Indian off had struggled tohis feet. 

"Hold there!" cried Raven with a terrible oath, flinging himself uponthe struggling pair. 

A moment or two the Stonies hesitated, then they too seized Cameron andbetween them all they bore him fighting to the ground. 

"Keep back! Keep back!" cried Raven in a terrible voice to LittleThunder, who, knife in hand, was dancing round, seeking an opportunityto strike. "Will you lie still, or shall I knock your head in?" saidRaven to Cameron through his clenched teeth, with one hand on his throatand the other poising a revolver over his head. Cameron gave up thestruggle. 

"Speak and quick!" cried Raven, his face working with passion, his voicethick and husky, his breath coming in quick gasps from the fury thatpossessed him. 

"All right, " said Cameron. "Let me up. You have beaten me this time. "

Raven sprang to his feet. 

"Let him up!" he said. "Now, then, Cameron, give me your word you won'ttry to escape. "

"No, I will not! I'll see you hanged first, " said Cameron. 

Raven deliberately drew his pistol and said slowly:

"I have saved your life twice already, but the time is past for any moretrifling. Now you've got to take it. "

At this Little Thunder spoke a word, pointing toward the camp of theStonies. Raven hesitated, then with an oath he strode toward Cameron andthrusting his pistol in his face said in tones of cold and concentratedrage:

"Listen to me, you fool! Your life is hanging by a hair trigger thatgoes off with a feather touch. I give you one more chance. Move hand orfoot and the bullet in this gun will pass neatly through your eye. Sohelp me God Almighty!"

He spoke to Little Thunder, still keeping Cameron covered with his gun. The Indian slipped quietly behind Cameron and swiftly threw a line overhis shoulders and, drawing it tight, bound his arms to his side. Againand again he repeated this operation till Cameron stood swathed in thecoils of the rope like a mummy, inwardly raging, not so much at hiscaptor, but at himself and his stupid bungling of his break for liberty. His helpless and absurd appearance seemed to restore Raven's goodhumour. 

"Now, then, " he said, turning to the Stonies and resuming his carelessair, "we will finish our little business. Sit down, Mr. Cameron, " hecontinued, with a pleasant smile. "It may be less dignified, but it ismuch more comfortable. "

Once more he took out his flask and passed it round, forgetting to takeit back from his Indian visitors, who continued to drink from it inturn. 

"Listen, " he said. "I give you all you see here for your furs and a ponyto pack them. That is my last word. Quick, yes or no? Tell them no moretrifling, Little Thunder. The moon is high. We start in ten minutes. "

There was no further haggling. The Indians seemed to recognise that thetime for that was past. After a brief consultation they grunted theiracceptance and proceeded to pack up their goods, but with no good will. More vividly than any in the company they realised the immensity of thefraud that was being perpetrated upon them. They were being robbed oftheir whole winter's kill and that of some of their friends as well, but they were helpless in the grip of their mad passion for the trader'sfire-water. Disgusted with themselves and filled with black rage againstthe man who had so pitilessly stripped them bare of the profits of ayear's toil and privation, how gladly would they have put their knivesinto his back, but they knew his sort by only too bitter experience andthey knew that at his hands they need expect no pity. 

"Here, " cried Raven, observing their black looks. "A present for mybrothers. " He handed them each a roll of tobacco. "And a present fortheir squaws, " adding a scarlet blanket apiece to their pack. 

Without a word of thanks they took the gifts and, loading their stuffupon their remaining pony, disappeared down the trail. 

"Now, Little Thunder, let's get out of this, for once their old manfinds out he will be hot foot on our trail. "

With furious haste they fell to their packing. Cameron stood aghast atthe amazing swiftness and dexterity with which the packs were roped andloaded. When all was complete the trader turned to Cameron in gay goodhumour. 

"Now, Mr. Cameron, will you go passenger or freight?" Cameron made noreply. "In other words, shall we pack you on your pony or will you ridelike a gentleman, giving me your word not to attempt to escape? Timepresses, so answer quick! Give me twenty-four hours. Give me your wordfor twenty-four hours, after which you can go when you like. "

"I agree, " said Cameron shortly. 

"Cut him loose, Little Thunder. " Little Thunder hesitated. "Quick, you fool! Cut him loose. I know a gentleman when I see him. He is tiedtighter than with ropes. "

"It is a great pity, " he continued, addressing Cameron in a pleasantconversational tone as they rode down the trail together, "that youshould have made an ass of yourself for those brutes. Bah! What odds?Old Macdougall or some one else would get their stuff sooner or later. Why not I? Come, cheer up. You are jolly well out of it, for, God knows, you may live to look death in the face many a time, but never whileyou live will you be so near touching the old sport as you were a fewminutes ago. Why I have interfered to save you these three times blessedif I know! Many a man's bones have been picked by the coyotes in thesehills for a fraction of the provocation you have given me, not to speakof Little Thunder, who is properly thirsting for your blood. But takeadvice from me, " here he leaned over towards Cameron and touched him onthe shoulder, while his voice took a sterner tone, "don't venture on anyfurther liberties with him. "

Suddenly Cameron's rage blazed forth. 

"Now perhaps you will listen to me, " he said in a voice thrilling withpassion. "First of all, keep your hands off me. As for your comrade andpartner in crime, I fear him no more than I would a dog and like a dogI shall treat him if he dares to attack me again. As for you, you are acoward and a cad. You have me at a disadvantage. But put down your gunsand fight me on equal terms, and I will make you beg for your life!"

There was a gleam of amused admiration in Raven's eyes. 

"By Jove! It would be a pretty fight, I do believe, and one I shouldgreatly enjoy. At present, however, time is pressing and therefore thatpleasure we must postpone. Meantime I promise you that when it comes itwill be on equal terms. "

"I ask no more, " said Cameron. 

There was no further conversation, for Raven appeared intent on puttingas large a space as possible between himself and the camp of theStonies. The discovery of the fraud he knew would be inevitable and heknew, too, that George Macdougall was not the man to allow his flock tobe fleeced with impunity. 

So before the grey light of morning began to steal over the mountaintopsRaven, with his bunch of ponies and his loot, was many miles forwardon his journey. But the endurance even of bronchos and cayuses has itslimit, and their desperate condition from hunger and fatigue renderedfood and rest imperative. 

The sun was fully up when Raven ordered a halt, and in a sunny valley, deep with grass, unsaddling the wearied animals, he turned them loose tofeed and rest. Apparently careless of danger and highly contentedwith their night's achievement, he and his Indian partner abandonedthemselves to sleep. Cameron, too, though his indignation and chagrinprevented sleep for a time, was finally forced to yield to the genialinfluences of the warm sun and the languid airs of the spring day, and, firmly resolving to keep awake, he fell into dreamless slumber. 

The sun was riding high noon when he was awakened by a hand upon hisarm. It was Raven. 

"Hush!" he said. "Not a word. Mount and quick!"

Looking about Cameron observed that the pack horses were ready loadedand Raven standing by his broncho ready to mount. Little Thunder wasnowhere to be seen. 

"What's up?" said Cameron. 

For answer Raven pointed up the long sloping trail down which they hadcome. There three horsemen could be seen riding hard, but still distantmore than half a mile. 

"Saw them three miles away, luckily enough, " said Raven. 

"Where's Little Thunder?" enquired Cameron. 

"Oh, rounding up the bunch, " answered Raven carelessly, waving his handtoward the valley. "Those men are coming some, " he added, swinging intohis saddle. 

As he spoke a rifle shot shattered the stillness of the valley. Thefirst of the riders threw up his hands, clutched wildly at the vacantair and pitched headlong out of the saddle. "Good God! What's that?"gasped Cameron. The other two wheeled in their course. Before they couldturn a second shot rang out and another of the riders fell upon hishorse's neck, clung there for a moment, then gently slid to the ground. The third, throwing himself over the side of his pony, rode back fordear life. 

A third and a fourth shot were heard, but the fleeing rider escapedunhurt. 

"What does that mean?" again asked Cameron, weak and sick with horror. 

"Mount!" yelled Raven with a terrible oath and flourishing a revolverin his hand. "Mount quick!" His face was pale, his eyes burned with afierce glare, while his voice rang with the blast of a bugle. 

"Lead those pack horses down that trail!" he yelled, thrusting the lineinto Cameron's hand. "Quick, I tell you!"

"Crack-crack!" Twice a bullet sang savagely past Cameron's ears. 

"Quicker!" shouted Raven, circling round the bunch of ponies with wildcries and oaths like a man gone mad. Again and again the revolver spatwickedly and here and there a pony plunged recklessly forward, nickedin the ear by one of those venomous singing pellets. Helpless todefend himself and expecting every moment to feel the sting of a bulletsomewhere in his body, Cameron hurried his pony with all his might downthe trail, dragging the pack animals after him. In huddled confusion theterrified brutes followed after him in a mad rush, for hard upon theirrear, like a beast devil-possessed, Nighthawk pressed, biting, kicking, squealing, to the accompaniment of his rider's oaths and yells andpistol shots. Down the long sloping trail to the very end of the valleythe mad rush continued. There the ascent checked the fury of the speedand forced a quieter pace. But through the afternoon there was noweakening of the pressure from the rear till the evening shadows and thefrequent falling of the worn-out beasts forced a slackening of the paceand finally a halt. 

Sick with horror and loathing, Cameron dismounted and unsaddled hisbroncho. He had hardly finished this operation when Little Thunderrode up upon a strange pony, leading a beautiful white broncho behind. Cameron could not repress an exclamation of disgust as the Indian drewnear him. 

"Beautiful beast that, " said Raven carelessly, pointing to the whitepony. 

Cameron turned his eyes upon the pony and stood transfixed with horror. 

"My God!" he exclaimed. "Look at that!" Across the beautiful whiteshoulders and reaching down clear to the fetlock there ran a broadstain, dull red and horrible. Then through his teeth, hard clenchedtogether, these words came forth: "Some day, by God's help, I shall wipeout that stain. "

The trader shrugged his shoulders carelessly, but made no reply. 

CHAPTER V

SERGEANT CRISP

The horror of the day followed Cameron through the night and awoke withhim next morning. Every time his eyes found the Indian his teeth cametogether in a grinding rage as he repeated his vow, "Some day I shallbring you to justice. So help me God!"

Against Raven somehow he could not maintain the same heat of rage. Thathe was a party to the murder of the Stonies there was little reasonto doubt, but as all next day they lay in the sunny glade resting theponies, or went loping easily along the winding trails making evertowards the Southwest, the trader's cheerful face, his endless tales, and his invincible good humour stole from Cameron's heart, in spite ofhis firm resolve, the fierceness of his wrath. But the resolve was nonethe less resolute that one day he would bring this man to justice. 

As they journeyed on, the woods became more open and the trees larger. Mid-day found them resting by a little lake, from which a stream flowedinto the upper reaches of the Columbia River. 

"We shall make the Crow's Nest trail by to-morrow night, " said Raven, "where we shall part; not to your very great sorrow, I fancy, either. "

The evening before Cameron would have said, "No, but to my great joy, "and it vexed him that he could not bring himself to say so to-day withany great show of sincerity. There was a charm about this man that hecould not resist. 

"And yet, " continued Raven, allowing his eyes to rest dreamily upon thelake, "in other circumstances I might have found in you an excellentfriend, and a most rare and valuable find that is. "

"That it is!" agreed Cameron, thinking of his old football captain, "butone cannot make friends with a--"

"It is an ugly word, I know, " said Raven. "But, after all, what is abunch of furs more or less to those Indians?"

"Furs?" exclaimed Cameron in horror. "What are the lives of these men?"

"Oh, " replied Raven carelessly, "these Indians are always getting killedone way or another. It is all in the day's work with them. They pickeach other off without query or qualm. Besides, Little Thunder hasa grudge of very old standing against the Stonies, whom he heartilydespises, and he doubtless enjoys considerable satisfaction from thethought that he has partially paid it. It will be his turn next, likeas not, for they won't let this thing sleep. Or perhaps mine!" he addedafter a pause. "The man is doubtless on the trail at this present minutewho will finally get me. "

"Then why expose yourself to such a fate?" said Cameron. "Surely in thiscountry a man can live an honest life and prosper. "

"Honest life? I doubt it! What is an honest life? Does any Indian traderlead an honest life? Do the Hudson Bay traders, or I. G. Baker's people, or any of them do the honest thing by the Indian they trade with? Inthe long run it is a question of the police. What escapes the police ishonest. The crime, after all, is in getting caught. "

"Oh, that is too old!" said Cameron. "You know you are talking rot. "

"Quite right! It is rot, " assented Raven. "The whole business is rot. 'Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher. ' Oh, I know the Book, yousee. I was not born a--a--an outlaw. " The grey-brown eyes had in thema wistful look. "Bah!" he exclaimed, springing to his feet and shakinghimself. "The sight of your Edinburgh face and the sound of yourEdinburgh speech and your old country ways and manners have got on myrecollection works, and I believe that accounts for you being aliveto-day, old man. "

He whistled to his horse. Nighthawk came trotting and whinneying to him. 

"I have one friend in the world, old boy, " he said, throwing his armover the black, glossy neck and searching his pocket for a biscuit. "Andeven you, " he added bitterly, "I fear do not love me for naught. "

Saddling his horse, he mounted and calling Little Thunder to him said:

"Take the bunch on as far as the Big Canyon and wait there for me. I amgoing back a bit. It is better to be sure than sorry. Cameron, yourbest route lies with us. Your twenty-four hours' parole is already up. To-morrow, perhaps to-night, I shall put you on the Macleod trail. Youare a free man, but don't try to make any breaks when I am gone. Myfriend here is extremely prompt with his weapons. Farewell! Get a moveon, Little Thunder! Cameron will bring up the rear. "

He added some further words in the Indian tongue, his voice taking astern tone. Little Thunder grunted a surly and unwilling acquiescence, and, waving his hand to Cameron, the trader wheeled his horse up thetrail. 

In spite of himself Cameron could not forbear a feeling of pity andadmiration as he watched the lithe, upright figure swaying up thetrail, his every movement in unison with that of the beautiful demonhe bestrode. But with all his pity and admiration he was none the lessresolved that he would do what in him lay to bring these two to justice. 

"This ugly devil at least shall swing!" he said to himself as he turnedhis eyes upon Little Thunder getting his pack ponies out upon the trail. This accomplished, the Indian, pointing onward, said gruffly, "You go in front--me back. "

"Not much!" cried Cameron. "You heard the orders from your chief. You goin front. I bring up the rear. I do not know the trail. "

"Huh! Trail good, " grunted Little Thunder, the red-rimmed eyes gleamingmalevolently. "You go front--me back. " He waved his hand impatientlytoward the trail. Following the direction of his hand, Cameron's eyesfell upon the stock of his own rifle protruding from a pack upon one ofthe ponies. For a moment the protruding stock held his eyes fascinated. 

"Huh!" said the Indian, noting Cameron's glance, and slipping off hispony. In an instant both men were racing for the pack and approachingeach other at a sharp angle. Arrived at striking distance, the Indianleaped at Cameron, with his knife, as was his wont, ready to strike. 

The appearance of the Indian springing at him seemed to set some of thegrey matter in Cameron's brain moving along old tracks. Like a flash hedropped to his knees in an old football tackle, caught the Indian bythe legs and tossed him high over his shoulders, then, springing tohis feet, he jerked the rifle free from the pack and stood waiting forLittle Thunder's attack. 

But the Indian lay without sound or motion. Cameron used his opportunityto look for his cartridge belt, which, after a few minutes' anxioussearch, he discovered in the pack. He buckled the belt about him, madesure his Winchester held a shell, and stood waiting. 

That he should be waiting thus with the deliberate purpose of shootingdown a fellow human being filled him with a sense of unreality. Butthe events of the last forty-eight hours had created an entirely newenvironment, and with extraordinary facility his mind had adjusteditself to this environment, and though two days before he would haveshrunk in horror from the possibility of taking a human life, he knewas he stood there that at the first sign of attack he should shoot theIndian down like a wild beast. 

Slowly Little Thunder raised himself to a sitting posture and lookedabout in dazed surprise. As his mind regained its normal condition theredeepened in his eyes a look of cunning hatred. With difficulty he roseto his feet and stood facing Cameron. Cameron waited quietly, watchinghis every move. 

"You go in front!" at length commanded Cameron. "And no nonsense, mindyou, " he added, tapping his rifle, "or I shoot quick. "

The Indian might not have understood all Cameron's words, but he was inno doubt as to his meaning. It was characteristic of his race that heshould know when he was beaten and stoically accept defeat for the timebeing. Without further word or look he led off his pack ponies, whileCameron took his place at the rear. 

But progress was slow. Little Thunder was either incapable of rapidmotion or sullenly indifferent to any necessity for it. Besides, therewas no demoniacal dynamic forcing the beasts on from the rear. They hadnot been more than three hours on the trail when Cameron heard behindhim the thundering of hoofs. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw comingdown upon him Raven, riding as if pursued by a thousand demons. Thecondition of his horse showed that the race had been long and hard; hisblack satin skin was dripping as if he had come through a river, hiseyes were bloodshot and starting from his head, his mouth was wide openand from it in large clots the foam had fallen upon his neck and chest. 

Past Cameron and down upon Little Thunder Raven rushed like a whirlwind, yelling with wild oaths the while, "Get on! Get on! What are you loafing about here for?"

A few vehement directions to the Indian and he came thundering back uponCameron. 

"What have you been doing?" he cried with an oath. "Why are you notmiles on? Get on! Move! Move!! Move!!!" At every yell he hurled hisfrenzied broncho upon the ponies which brought up the rear, and in a fewminutes had the whole cavalcade madly careering down the sloping trail. Wilder and wilder grew the pace. Turning a sharp corner round a juttingrock a pack pony stumbled and went crashing fifty feet to the rockbelow. "On! On!" yelled Raven, emptying his gun into the strugglinganimal as he passed. More and more difficult became the road until atlength it was impossible to keep up the pace. 

"We cannot make it! We cannot make it!" muttered Raven with bitteroaths. "Oh, the cursed fools! Another two miles would do it!"

At length they came to a spot where the trail touched a level bench. 

"Halt!" yelled the trader, as he galloped to the head of the column. A few minutes he spent in rapid and fierce consultation with LittleThunder and then came raging back. "We are going to get this bunch downinto the valley there, " he shouted, pointing to the thick timber at thebottom. "I do not expect your help, but I ask you to remain whereyou are for the present. And let me assure you this is no moment fortrifling. "

With extraordinary skill and rapidity Little Thunder managed to leadfirst the pack ponies and then the others, one by one, at intervals, off the trail as they went onward, taking infinite pains to cover theirtracks at the various points of departure. While this was being done thetrader stood shouting directions and giving assistance with a fury ofenergy that seemed to communicate itself to the very beasts. But thework was one of great difficulty and took many minutes to accomplish. 

"Half an hour more, just half an hour! Fifteen minutes!" he keptmuttering. "Just a short fifteen minutes and all would be well. "

As the last pony disappeared into the woods Raven turned to Cameron andwith a smile said quietly, "There, that's done. Now you are free. Here we part. This is your trail. It will take you to Macleod. I am sorry, however, that owing to a changein circumstances for which I am not responsible I must ask you for thatrifle. " With the swiftness of a flash of light he whipped his gun intoCameron's face. "Don't move!" he said, still smiling. "This gun of minenever fails. Quick, don't look round. Yes, those hoof beats are ourfriends the police. Quick! It is your life or mine. I'd hate to killyou, Cameron. I give you one chance more. "

There was no help for it, and Cameron, with his heart filled with futilefury, surrendered his rifle. 

"Now ride in front of me a little way. They have just seen us, but theydon't know that we are aware of their presence. Ride! Ride! A littlefaster!" Nighthawk rushed upon Cameron's lagging pony. "There, that'sbetter. "

A shout fell upon their ears. 

"Go right along!" said Raven quietly. "Only a few minutes longer, thenwe part. I have greatly enjoyed your company. "

Another shout. 

"Aha!" said Raven, glancing round. "It is, I verily believe it is my oldfriend Sergeant Crisp. Only two of them, by Jove! If we had only knownwe need not have hurried. "

Another shout, followed by a bullet that sang over their heads. 

"Ah, this is interesting--too interesting by half! Well, here goes foryou, sergeant!" He wheeled as he spoke. Turning swiftly in his saddle, Cameron saw him raise his rifle. 

"Hold up, you devil!" he shouted, throwing his pony across the blackbroncho's track. 

The rifle rang out, the police horse staggered, swayed, and pitched tothe earth, bringing his rider down with him. 

"Ah, Cameron, that was awkward of you, " said Raven gently. "However, itis perhaps as well. Goodbye, old man. Tell the sergeant not to follow. Trails hereabout are dangerous and good police sergeants are scarce. Again farewell. " He swung his broncho off the trail and, waving hishand, with a smile, disappeared into the thick underbrush. 

"Hold up your hands!" shouted the police officer, who had struggledupright and was now swaying on his feet and covering Cameron with hiscarbine. 

"Hurry! Hurry!" cried Cameron, springing from his pony and waving hishands wildly in the air. "Come on. You'll get him yet. "

"Stand where you are and hold up your hands!" cried the sergeant. 

Cameron obeyed, shouting meanwhile wrathfully, "Oh, come on, you ballyfool! You are losing him. Come on, I tell you!"

"Keep your hands up or I shoot!" cried the sergeant sternly. 

"All right, " said Cameron, holding his hands high, "but for God's sakehurry up!" He ran towards the sergeant as he spoke, with his hands stillabove his head. 

"Halt!" shouted the sergeant, as Cameron came near. "Constable Burke, arrest that man!"

"Oh, come, get it over, " cried Cameron in a fury of passion. "Arrest me, of course, but if you want to catch that chap you'll have to hurry. Hecannot be far away. "

"Ah, indeed, my man, " said the sergeant pleasantly. "He is not faraway?"

"No, he's a murderer and a thief and you can catch him if you hurry. "

"Ah! Very good, very good! Constable Burke, tie this man up to yoursaddle and we'll take a look round. How many might there be in yourgang?" enquired the sergeant. "Tell the truth now. It will be the betterfor you. "

"One, " said Cameron impatiently. "A chap calling himself Raven. "

"Raven, eh?" exclaimed Sergeant Crisp with a new interest. "Raven, byJove!"

"Yes, and an Indian. Little Thunder he called him. "

"Little Thunder! Jove, what a find!" exclaimed the sergeant. 

"Yes, " continued Cameron eagerly. "Raven is just ahead in the woodsthere alone and the Indian is further back with a bunch of ponies downin the river bottom. "

"Oh, indeed! Very interesting! And so Raven is all alone in the scrubthere, waiting doubtless to give himself up, " said sergeant Crisp withfine sarcasm. "Well, we are not yet on to your game, young man, but wewill not just play up to that lead yet a while. "

In vain Cameron raged and pleaded and stormed and swore, telling hisstory in incoherent snatches, to the intense amusement of Sergeant Crispand his companion. At length Cameron desisted, swallowing his rage asbest he could. 

"Now then, we shall move on. The pass is not more than an hour away. Wewill put this young man in safe keeping and return for Mr. Raven and hisinteresting friend. " For a moment he stood looking down upon his horse. "Poor old chap!" he said. "We have gone many a mile together on HerMajesty's errands. If I have done my duty as faithfully as you have doneyours I need not fear my record. Take his saddle and bridle off, Burke. We've got one of the gang. Some day we shall come up with Mr. Ravenhimself. "

"Yes, " said Cameron with passionate bitterness. "And that might beto-day if you had only listened to me. Why, man, " he shouted withreviving rage, "we three could take him even yet!"

"Ah!" said Sergeant Crisp, "so we could. "

"You had him in your hands to-day, " said Cameron, "but like a fool youlet him go. But some day, so help me God, I shall bring these murderersto justice. "

"Ah!" said Sergeant Crisp again. "Good! Very good indeed! Now, my man, march!"

CHAPTER VI

A DAY IN THE MACLEOD BARRACKS

"What's this, Sergeant Crisp?" The Commissioner, a tall, slight, andsoldier-like man, keen-eyed and brisk of speech, rapped out his wordslike a man intent on business. 

"One of a whiskey gang, Sir. Dick Raven's, I suspect. "

"And the charge?"

"Whiskey trading, theft, and murder. "

The Commissioner's face grew grave. 

"Murder? Where did you find him?"

"Kootenay trail, Sir. Got wind of him at Calgary, followed up the cluepast Morleyville, then along the Kootenay trail. A blizzard came on andwe feared we had lost them. We fell in with a band of Stony Indians, found that the band had been robbed and two of their number murdered. "

"Two murdered?" The Commissioner's voice was stern. 

"Yes, Sir. Shot down in cold blood. We have the testimony of an eyewitness. We followed the trail and came upon two of them. My horse wasshot. One of them escaped; this man we captured. "

The Commissioner sat pondering. Then with disconcerting swiftness heturned upon the prisoner. 

"Your name?"

"Cameron, Sir. "

"Where from?"

"I was working in McIvor's survey camp near Morleyville. I went outshooting, lost my way in a blizzard, was captured by a man who calledhimself Raven--"

"Wait!" said the Commissioner sharply. "Bring me that file!"

The orderly brought a file from which the Commissioner selected aletter. His keen eyes rapidly scanned the contents and then ran over theprisoner from head to foot. Thereupon, without a moment's hesitation, hesaid curtly:

"Release the prisoner!"

"But, Sir--" began Sergeant Crisp, with an expression of utterbewilderment and disgust upon his face. 

"Release the prisoner!" repeated the Commissioner sharply. "Mr. Cameron, I deeply regret this mistake. Under the circumstances it could hardlyhave been avoided. You were in bad company, you see. I am greatlypleased that my men have been of service to you. We shall continue todo all we can for you. In the meantime I am very pleased to have thepleasure of meeting you. " He passed the letter to Sergeant Crisp. "Ihave information about you from Morleyville, you see. Now tell us allabout it. "

It took Cameron some moments to recover his wits, so dumbfounded was heat the sudden change in his condition. 

"Well, Sir, " he began, "I hardly know what to say. "

"Sit down, sit down, Mr. Cameron. Take your time, " said theCommissioner. "We are somewhat hurried these days, but you must have hadsome trying experiences. "

Then Cameron proceeded with his tale. The Commissioner listened withkeen attention, now and then arresting him with a question or a comment. When Cameron came to tell of the murder of the Stonies his voice shookwith passion. 

"We will get that Indian some day, " said the Commissioner, "never fear. What is his name?"

"Little Thunder, Raven called him. And I would like to take a hand inthat too, Sir, " said Cameron eagerly. 

"You would, eh?" said the Commissioner with a sharp look at him. "Well, we'll see. Little Thunder, " he repeated to himself. "Bring that RecordBook!"

The orderly laid a large canvas-covered book before him. 

"Little Thunder, eh?" he repeated, turning the leaves of the book. "Oh, yes, I thought so! Blood Indian--formerly Chief--supplanted by RedCrow--got into trouble with whiskey traders. Yes, I remember. He is athis old tricks. This time, however, he has gone too far. We will gethim. Go on, Mr. Cameron!"

When Cameron had concluded his story the Commissioner said to theorderly sharply:

"Send me Inspector Dickson!"

In a few moments Inspector Dickson appeared, a tall, slight man, with agentle face and kindly blue eyes. 

"Inspector Dickson, how are we for men? Can you spare two or three toround up a gang of whiskey traders and to run down a murderer? We are onthe track of Raven's bunch, I believe. "

"We are very short-handed at present, Sir. This half-breed trouble inthe north is keeping our Indians all very restless. We must keep intouch with them. "

"Yes, yes, I know. By the way, how are the Bloods just now?"

"They are better, Sir, but the Blackfeet are restless and uneasy. Thereare a lot of runners from the east among them. "

"How is old Crowfoot behaving?"

"Crowfoot himself is apparently all right so far, but of course no mancan tell what Crowfoot is thinking. "

"That's right enough, " replied the Commissioner. 

"By the way, Sir, it was Crowfoot's son that got into that trouble lastnight with that Macleod man. The old Chief is in town, too, in fact isoutside just now and quite worked up over the arrest. "

"Well, we will settle this Crowfoot business in a few minutes. Now, about this Raven gang. You cannot go yourself with a couple of men? Heis an exceedingly clever rascal. "

The Inspector enumerated the cases immediately pressing. 

"Well then, at the earliest possible moment we must get after thisgang. Keep this in mind, Inspector Dickson. That Indian I consider anextremely dangerous man. He is sure to be mixed up with this half-breedtrouble. He has very considerable influence with a large section of theBloods. I shouldn't be surprised if we should find him on their reservebefore very long. Now then, bring in young Crowfoot!"

The Inspector saluted and retired, followed by Sergeant Crisp, whoseface had not yet regained its normal expression. 

"Mr. Cameron, " said the Commissioner, "if you care to remain with me forthe morning I shall be glad to have you. The administration of justiceby the police may prove interesting to you. Later on we shall discussyour return to your camp. "

Cameron expressed his delight at being permitted to remain in the courtroom, not only that he might observe the police methods of administeringjustice, but especially that he might see something of the greatBlackfeet Chief, Crowfoot, of whom he had heard much since his arrivalin the West. 

In a few minutes Inspector Dickson returned, followed by a constableleading a young Indian, handcuffed. With these entered Jerry, the famoushalf-breed interpreter, and last of all the father of the prisoner, oldCrowfoot, tall, straight, stately. One swift searching glance the oldChief flung round the room, and then, acknowledging the Commissioner'ssalute with a slight wave of the hand and a grunt, and declining theseat offered him, he stood back against the wall and there viewed theproceedings with an air of haughty defiance. 

The Commissioner lost no time in preliminaries. The charge was read andexplained to the prisoner. The constable made his statement. The youngIndian had got into an altercation with a citizen of Macleod, and onbeing hard pressed had pulled the pistol which was laid upon thedesk. There was no defense. The interpreter, however, explained, afterconversation with the prisoner, that drink was the cause. At this pointthe old Chief's face swiftly changed. Defiance gave place to disgust, grief, and rage. 

The Commissioner, after carefully eliciting all the facts, gave theprisoner an opportunity to make a statement. This being declined, theCommissioner proceeded gravely to point out the serious nature of theoffense, to emphasize the sacredness of human life and declare thedetermination of the government to protect all Her Majesty's subjects, no matter what their race or the colour of their skin. He then wenton to point out the serious danger which the young man had so narrowlyescaped. 

"Why, man, " exclaimed the Commissioner, "you might have committedmurder. "

Here the young fellow said something to the interpreter. There was aflicker of a smile on the half-breed's face. 

"He say dat pistol he no good. He can't shoot. He not loaded. "

The Commissioner's face never changed a line. He gravely turned thepistol over in his hand, and truly enough the rusty weapon appeared tobe quite innocuous except to the shooter. 

"This is an extremely dangerous weapon. Why, it might have killedyourself--if it had been loaded. We cannot allow this sort of thing. However, since it was not loaded we shall make the sentence light. Isentence you to one month's confinement. "

The interpreter explained the sentence to the young Indian, who receivedthe explanation without the movement of a muscle or the flicker of aneyelid. The constable touched him on the shoulder and said, "Come!"

Before he could move old Crowfoot with two strides stood before theconstable, and waving him aside with a gesture of indescribable dignity, took his son in his arms and kissed him on either cheek. Then, steppingback, he addressed him in a voice grave, solemn, and vibrant withemotion. Jerry interpreted to the Court. 

"I have observed the big Chief. This is good medicine. It is good thatwrong should suffer. All good men are against wickedness. My son, youhave done foolishly. You have darkened my eyes. You have covered my facebefore my people. They will ask--where is your son? My voice will besilent. My face will be covered with shame. I shall be like a dog kickedfrom the lodge. My son, I told you to go only to the store. I warned youagainst bad men and bad places. Your ears were closed, you were wiserthan your father. Now we both must suffer, you here shut up from thelight of the sky, I in my darkened lodge. But, " he continued, turningswiftly upon the Commissioner, "I ask my father why these bad men whosell whiskey to the poor Indian are not shut up with my son. My son isyoung. He is like the hare in the woods. He falls easily into the trap. Why are not these bad men removed?" The old Chief's face trembled withindignant appeal. 

"They shall be!" said the Commissioner, smiting the desk with his fist. "This very day!"

"It is good!" continued the old Chief with great dignity. Then, turningagain to his son, he said, and his voice was full of grave tenderness:

"Now, go to your punishment. The hours will be none too long if theybring you wisdom. " Again he kissed his son on both cheeks and, without alook at any other, stalked haughtily from the room. 

"Inspector Dickson, " sharply commanded the Commissioner, "find out theman that sold that whiskey and arrest him at once!"

Cameron was profoundly impressed with the whole scene. He began torealise as never before the tremendous responsibilities that lay uponthose charged with the administration of justice in this country. Hebegan to understand, too, the secret of the extraordinary hold that thePolice had upon the Indian tribes and how it came that so small a forcecould maintain the "Pax Britannica" over three hundred thousand squaremiles of unsettled country, the home of hundreds of wild adventurersand of thousands of savage Indians, utterly strange to any rule or lawexcept that of their own sweet will. 

"This police business is a big affair, " he ventured to say to theCommissioner when the court room was cleared. "You practically run thecountry. "

"Well, " said the Commissioner modestly, "we do something to keep thecountry from going to the devil. We see that every man gets a fairshow. "

"It is great work!" exclaimed Cameron. 

"Yes, I suppose it is, " replied the Commissioner. "We don't talk aboutit, of course. Indeed, we don't think of it. But, " he continued, "thatblue book there could tell a story that would make the old Empire nottoo ashamed of the men who 'ride the line' and patrol the ranges in thisfar outpost. " He opened the big canvas-bound book as he spoke and turnedthe pages over. "Look at that for a page, " he said, and Cameron glancedover the entries. What a tale they told!

"Fire-fighting!"

"Yes, " said the Commissioner, "that saved a settler's wife and child--aprairie fire. The house was lost, but the constable pulled them out andgot rather badly burned in the business. "

Cameron's finger ran down the page. 

"Sick man transported to Post. "

"That, " commented the Superintendent, "was a journey of over two hundredmiles by dog sleighs in winter. Saved the man's life. "

And so the record ran. "Cattle thieves arrested. " "Whiskey smugglerscaptured. " "Stolen horses recovered. " "Insane man brought to Post. "

"That was rather a tough case, " said the Commissioner. "Meant a journeyof some eight hundred miles with a man, a powerful man too, raving mad. "

"How many of your men on that journey?" enquired Cameron. 

"Oh, just one. The fellow got away twice, but was recaptured and finallylanded. Got better too. But the constable was all broken up for weeksafterwards. "

"Man, that was great!" exclaimed Cameron. "What a pity it should not beknown. "

"Oh, " said the Commissioner lightly, "it's all in the day's duty. "

The words thrilled Cameron to the heart. "All in the day's duty!" Thesheer heroism of it, the dauntless facing of Nature's grimmest terrors, the steady patience, the uncalculated sacrifice, the thought of all thatlay behind these simple words held him silent for many minutes as hekept turning over the leaves. 

As he sat thus turning the leaves and allowing his eye to fall uponthose simple but eloquent entries, a loud and strident voice was heardoutside. 

"Waal, I tell yuh, I want to see him right naow. I ain't come twohundred miles for nawthin'. I mean business, I do. "

The orderly's voice was heard in reply. 

"I ain't got no time to wait. I want to see yer Chief of Police rightnaow. "

Again the orderly's voice could be distinguished. 

"In court, is he? Waal, you hurry up and tell him J. B. Cadwaller ofLone Pine, Montana, an American citizen, wants to see him right smart. "

The orderly came in and saluted. 

"A man to see you, Sir, " he said. "An American. "

"What business?"

"Horse-stealing case, Sir. "

"Show him in!"

In a moment the orderly returned, followed by, not one, but threeAmerican citizens. 

"Good-day, Jedge! My name's J. B. Cadwaller, Lone Pine, Montana. I--"

"Take your hat off in the court!" said the orderly sharply. 

Mr. Cadwaller slowly surveyed the orderly with an expression ofinterested curiosity in his eyes, removing his hat as he did so. 

"Say, you're pretty swift, ain't yuh? You might give a feller a showto git in his interductions, " said Mr. Cadwaller. "I was jes goin' tointerdooce to you, Jedge, these gentlemen from my own State, DistrictAttorney Hiram S. Sligh and Mr. Rufus Raimes, rancher. "

The Commissioner duly acknowledged the introduction, standing to receivethe strangers with due courtesy. 

"Now, Jedge, I want to see yer Chief of Police. I've got a case forhim. "

"I have the honor to be the Commissioner. What can I do for you?"

"Waal, Jedge, we don't want to waste no time, neither yours nor ours. The fact is some of yer blank blank Indians have been rustlin' hossesfrom us fer some time back. We don't mind a cayuse now and then, butwhen it comes to a hull bunch of vallable hosses there's where we kickand we ain't goin' to stand fer it. And we want them hosses re-stored. And what's more, we want them blank blank copper snakes strung up. "

"How many horses have you lost?"

"How many? Jeerupiter! Thirty or forty fer all I know, they've beenrustlin' 'em for a year back. "

"Why didn't you report before?"

"Why we thought we'd git 'em ourselves, and if we had we wouldn't 'atroubled yuh--and I guess they wouldn't 'a troubled us much longer. Butthey are so slick--so blank slick!"

"Mr. Cadwaller, we don't allow any profanity in this court room, " saidthe Commissioner in a quiet voice. 

"Eh? Who's givin' yuh profanity? I don't mean no profanity. I'm talkin'about them blank blank--"

"Stop, Mr. Cadwaller!" said the Commissioner. "We must end thisinterview if you cannot make your statements without profanity. Thisis Her Majesty's court of Justice and we cannot tolerate any unbecominglanguage. 

"Waal, I'll be--!"

"Pardon me, Mr. Commissioner, " said Mr. Hiram S. Sligh, interruptinghis friend and client. "Perhaps I may make a statement. We've lost sometwenty or thirty horses. "

"Thirty-one" interjected Mr. Raimes quietly. 

"Thirty-one!" burst in Mr. Cadwaller indignantly. "That's only onelittle bunch. "

"And, " continued Mr. Sligh, "we have traced them right up to theBlood reserve. More than that, Mr. Raimes has seen the horses in thepossession of the Indians and we want your assistance in recovering ourproperty. "

"Yes, by gum!" exclaimed Mr. Cadwaller. "And we wantthem--eh--eh--consarned redskin thieves strung up. "

"You say you have seen the stolen horses on the Blood reserve, Mr. Raimes?" enquired the Commissioner. 

Mr. Raimes, who was industriously chewing a quid of tobacco, ejected, with a fine sense of propriety and with great skill and accuracy, astream of tobacco juice out of the door before he answered. 

"I seen 'em. "

"When did you lose your horses?"

Mr. Raimes considered the matter for some moments, chewing energeticallythe while, then, having delivered himself with the same delicacy andskill as before of his surplus tobacco juice, made laconic reply:

"Seventeen, no, eighteen days ago. "

"Did you follow the trail immediately yourselves?"

"No, Jim Eberts. "

"Jim Eberts?"

"Foreman, " said Mr. Raimes, who seemed to regard conversation in thelight of an interference with the more important business in which hewas industriously engaged. 

"But you saw the horses yourself on the Blood reserve?"

"Followed up and seen 'em. "

"How long since you saw them there, Mr. Raimes?"

"Two days. "

"You are quite sure about the horses?"

"Sure. "

"Call Inspector Dickson!" ordered the Commissioner. 

Inspector Dickson appeared and saluted. 

"We have information that a party of Blood Indians have stolen a band ofhorses from these gentlemen from Montana and that these horses are nowon the Blood reserve. Take a couple of men and investigate, and if youfind the horses bring them back. "

"Couple of men!" ejaculated Mr. Cadwaller breathlessly. "A couple ofhundred, you mean, General!"

"What for?"

"Why, to sur--raound them--there--Indians. " The regulations of the courtroom considerably hampered Mr. Cadwaller's fluency of speech. 

"It is not necessary at all, Mr. Cadwaller. Besides, we have only someeighty men all told at this post. Our whole force in the territories isless than five hundred men. "

"Five hundred men! You mean for this State, General--Alberta?"

"No, Sir. For all Western Canada. All west of Manitoba. "

"How much territory do you cover?" enquired the astonished Mr. Cadwaller. 

"We regularly patrol some three hundred thousand square miles, besidestaking an occasional expedition into the far north. "

"And how many Indians?"

"About the same number as you have, I imagine, in Montana and Dakota. InAlberta, about nine thousand. "

"And less than five hundred police! Say, General, I take off my hat. Ten thousand Indians! By the holy poker! And five hundred police! How inCain do you keep down the devils?"

"We don't try to keep them down. We try to take care of them. "

"Guess you've hit it, " said Mr. Raimes, dexterously squirting out of thedoor. 

"Jeerupiter! Say, General, some day they'll massacree yuh sure!" saidMr. Cadwaller, a note of anxiety in his voice. 

"Oh, no, they are a very good lot on the whole. "

"Good! We've got a lot of good Indians too, but they're all undergraound. Five hundred men! Jeerupiter! Say, Sligh, how many soldiersdoes Uncle Sam have on this job?"

"Well, I can't say altogether, but in Montana and Dakota I happen toknow we have about four thousand regulars. "

"Say, figger that out, will yuh?" continued Mr. Cadwaller. "Allowedfour times the territory, about the same number of Indians and aboutone-eighth the number of police. Say, General, I take off my hat again. Put it there! You Canucks have got the trick sure!"

"Easier to care for 'em than kill 'em, I guess, " said Mr. Raimescasually. 

"But, say, General, " continued Mr. Cadwaller, "you ain't goin' to sendfor them hosses with no three men?"

"I'm afraid we cannot spare any more. "

"Jeerupiter, General!" exclaimed Mr. Cadwaller. "I'll wait outside thereserve till this picnic's over. Say, General, let's have twenty-fivemen at least. "

"What do you say, Inspector Dickson? Will two men be sufficient?"

"We'll try, Sir, " replied the Inspector. 

"How soon can you be ready?"

"In a quarter of an hour. "

"Jeerupiter!" muttered Mr. Cadwaller to himself, as he followed theInspector out of the room. 

"I say, Commissioner, will you let me in on this thing?" said Cameron. 

"Do you mean that you want to join the force?" enquired theCommissioner, letting his eye run approvingly up and down Cameron'sfigure. 

"There is McIvor, Sir--" began Cameron. 

"Oh, I could fix that all right, " replied the Commissioner. "We wantmen, and we want men like you. We have no vacancy among the officers, but you could enlist as a constable and there is always opportunity toadvance. "

"It is a great service!" exclaimed Cameron. "I'd like awfully to join. "

"Very well, " said the Commissioner promptly, "we will take you. You arephysically sound, wind, limb, eye-sight, and so forth?"

"As far as I know, perfectly fit, " replied Cameron. 

Once more Inspector Dickson was summoned. 

"Inspector Dickson, Mr. Cameron wishes to join the force. We will havehis application taken and filled in later, and we will waive examinationfor the present. Will you administer the oath?"

"Cameron, stand up!" commanded the Inspector sharply. 

With a little thrill at his heart Cameron stood up, took the Bible inhis hand and repeated after the Inspector the words of the oath, "I, Allan Cameron, solemnly swear that I will faithfully, diligently, and impartially execute and perform the duties required of me as amember of the North West Mounted Police Force, and will well and trulyobey and perform all lawful orders and instructions which I shallreceive as such, without fear, favour, or affection of or toward anyperson. So help me, God. "

"Now then, Cameron, I congratulate you upon your new profession. The Inspector will see about your outfit and later you will receiveinstructions as to your duties. Meantime, take him along with you, Inspector, and get those horses. "

It was a somewhat irregular mode of procedure, but men were sorelyneeded at the Macleod post and the Commissioner had an eye that took innot only the lines of a man's figure but the qualities of his soul. 

"That chap will make good, or I am greatly mistaken, " he said to theInspector as Cameron went off with the orderly to select his uniform. 

"Well set up chap, " said the Inspector. "We'll try him out to-night. "

"Come now, don't kill him. Remember, other men have something else inthem besides whalebone and steel, if you have not. "

In half an hour the Inspector, Sergeant Crisp and Cameron, with thethree American citizens, were on their way to the Blood reserve. 

Cameron had been given a horse from the stable. 

All afternoon and late into the evening they rode, then camped and wereearly upon the trail the following morning. Cameron was half dead withthe fatigue from his experiences of the past week, but he would havedied rather than have hinted at weariness. He was not a little comfortedto notice that Sergeant Crisp, too, was showing signs of distress, whileDistrict Attorney Sligh was evidently in the last stages of exhaustion. Even the steel and whalebone combination that constituted the frameof the Inspector appeared to show some slight signs of wear; but allfeeling of weariness vanished when the Inspector, who was in the lead, halted at the edge of a wide sweeping valley and, pointing far ahead, said, "The Blood reserve. Their camp lies just beyond that bluff. "

"Say, Inspector, hold up!" cried Mr. Cadwaller as the Inspector set offagain. "Ain't yuh goin' to sneak up on 'em like?"

"Sneak up on them? No, of course not, " said the Inspector curtly. "Weshall ride right in. "

"Say, Raimes, " said Mr. Cadwaller, "a hole would be a blame nice thingto find just now. "

"Do you think there will be any trouble?" enquired Mr. Hiram Sligh ofSergeant Crisp. 

"Trouble? Perhaps so, " replied Crisp, as if to him it were a matter ofperfect indifference. 

"We'll never git them hosses, " said Raimes. "But we've got to stay withthe chief, I guess. "

And so they followed Inspector Dickson down into the valley, where inthe distance could be seen a number of horses and cattle grazing. Theyhad not ridden far along the valley bottom when Mr. Cadwaller spurred upupon the Inspector and called out excitedly, "I say, Inspector, them's our hosses right there. Say, let's run 'emoff. "

"Can you pick them out?" enquired the Inspector, turning in his saddle. 

"Every last one!" said Raimes. 

"Very well, cut them out and get them into a bunch, " said the Inspector. "I see there are some Indians herding them apparently. Pay no attentionto them, but go right along with your work. "

"There's one of 'em off to give tongue!" cried Mr. Cadwaller excitedly. "Bring him down, Inspector! Bring him down! Quick! Here, let me haveyour rifle!" Hurriedly he snatched at the Inspector's carbine. 

"Stop!" cried the Inspector in sharp command. "Now, attention! We areon a somewhat delicate business. A mistake might bring disaster. I am incommand of this party and I must have absolute and prompt obedience. Mr. Cadwaller, it will be at your peril that you make any such move again. Let no man draw a gun until ordered by me! Now, then, cut out thosehorses and bunch them together!"

"Jeerupiter! He's a hull brigade himself, " said Mr. Cadwaller in anundertone, dropping back beside Mr. Sligh. "Waal, here goes for thebunch. "

But though both Mr. Cadwaller and Mr. Raimes, as well as Sergeant Crispand the Inspector, were expert cattle men, it took some little time andvery considerable manoeuvering to get the stolen horses bunched togetherand separated from the rest of the animals grazing in the valley, and bythe time this was accomplished Indian riders had appeared on every side, gradually closing in upon the party. It was clearly impossible to driveoff the bunch through that gradually narrowing cordon of mounted Indianswithout trouble. 

"Now, what's to be done?" said Mr. Cadwaller, nervously addressing theInspector. 

"Forward!" cried the Inspector in a loud voice. "Towards the corralahead there!"

This movement nonplussed the Indians and in silence they fell in behindthe party who, going before, finally succeeded in driving the bunch ofhorses into the corral. 

"Sergeant Crisp, you and Constable Cameron remain here on guard. I shallgo and find the Chief. Here, " he continued, addressing a young Indianbrave who had ridden up quite close to the gate of the corral, "lead meto your Chief, Red Crow!"

The absence alike of all hesitation or fear, and of all bluster in histone and bearing, apparently impressed the young brave, for he wheeledhis pony and set off immediately at a gallop, followed by the Inspectorat a more moderate pace. 

Quickly the Indians gathered about the corral and the group at its gate. With every passing minute their numbers increased, and as their numbersincreased so did the violence of their demonstration The three Americanswere placed next the corral, Sergeant Crisp and Cameron being betweenthem and the excited Indians. Cameron had seen Indians before about thetrading posts. A shy, suspicious, and subdued lot of creatures they hadseemed to him. But these were men of another breed, with their lean, lithe, muscular figures, their clean, copper skins, their wild fierceeyes, their haughty bearing. Those others were poor beggars seekingpermission to exist; these were men, proud, fearless, and free. 

"Jove, what a team one could pick out of the bunch!" said Cameron tohimself, as his eye fell upon the clean bare limbs and observed theirgraceful motions. But to the Americans they were a hateful and fearsomesight. Indians with them were never anything but a menace to be held incheck, or a nuisance to be got rid of. 

Louder and louder grew the yells and wilder the gesticulations as thesavages worked themselves up into a fury. Suddenly, through the yelling, careering, gesticulating crowd of Indians a young brave came tearing atfull gallop and, thrusting his pony close up to the Sergeant's, stuckhis face into the officer's and uttered a terrific war whoop. Not a lineof the Sergeant's face nor a muscle of his body moved except that thenear spur slightly touched his horse's flank and the fingers tightenedalmost imperceptibly upon the bridle rein. Like a flash of light theSergeant's horse wheeled and with a fierce squeal let fly two wickedheels hard upon the pony's ribs. In sheer terror and surprise thelittle beast bolted, throwing his rider over his neck and finally to theground. Immediately a shout of jeering laughter rose from the crowd, whogreatly enjoyed their comrade's discomfiture. Except that the Sergeant'sface wore a look of pleased surprise, he simply maintained his attitudeof calm indifference. No other Indian, however, appeared ready to repeatthe performance of the young brave. 

At length the Inspector appeared, followed by the Chief, Red Crow. 

"Tell your people to go away!" said the Inspector as they reached thecorral. "They are making too much noise. "

Red Crow addressed his braves at some length. 

"Open the corral, " ordered the Inspector, "and get those horses out onthe trail. "

For a few moments there was silence. Then, as the Indians perceived thepurpose of the police, on every side there rose wild yells of protestand from every side a rush was made toward the corral. But SergeantCrisp kept his horse on the move in a series of kicks and plunges thathad the effect of keeping clear a wide circle about the corral gate. 

"Touch your horse with the spur and hold him up tight, " he said quietlyto Cameron. 

Cameron did so and at once his horse became seemingly as unmanageable asthe Sergeant's, plunging, biting, kicking. The Indian ponies could notbe induced to approach. The uproar, however, only increased. Guns beganto go off, bullets could be heard whistling overhead. Red Crow's voiceapparently could make no impression upon the maddened crowd of Indians. A minor Chief, White Horse by name, having whirled in behind theSergeant, seized hold of Mr. Cadwaller's bridle and began to threatenhim with excited gesticulations. Mr. Cadwaller drew his gun. 

"Let go that line, you blank blank redskin!" he roared, flourishing hisrevolver. 

In a moment, with a single plunge, the Inspector was at his side and, flinging off the Indian, shouted:

"Put up that gun, Mr. Cadwaller! Quick!" Mr. Cadwaller hesitated. "Sergeant Crisp, arrest that man!" The Inspector's voice rang out like atrumpet. His gun covered Mr. Cadwaller. 

"Give me that gun!" said the Sergeant. 

Mr. Cadwaller handed over his gun. 

"Let him go, " said the Inspector to Sergeant Crisp. "He will probablybehave. "

The Indians had gathered close about the group. White Horse, in thecentre, was talking fast and furious and pointing to Mr. Cadwaller. 

"Get the bunch off, Sergeant!" said the Inspector quietly. "I will holdthem here for a few minutes. "

Quietly the Sergeant backed out of the circle, leaving the Inspectorand Mr. Cadwaller with White Horse and Red Crow in the midst of thecrowding, yelling Indians. 

"White Horse say this man steal Bull Back's horses last fall!" shoutedRed Crow in the Inspector's ear. 

"Too much noise here, " said the Inspector, moving toward the Indiancamp and away from the corral and drawing the crowd with him. "Tell yourpeople to be quiet, Red Crow. I thought you were the Chief. "

Stung by the taunt, Red Crow raised his rifle and fired into the air. Then, standing high in his stirrups, he held up his hand and called outa number of names. Instantly ten men rode to his side. Again Red Crowspoke. The ten men rode out again among the crowd. Immediately theshouting ceased. 

"Good!" said the Inspector. "I see my brother is strong. Now, where isBull Back?"

The Chief called out a name. There was no response. 

"Bull Back not here, " he said. 

"Then listen, my brother, " said the Inspector earnestly. "This man, "pointing to Mr. Cadwaller, "waits with me at the Fort two days to meetWhite Horse, Bull Back, and any Indians who know about this man; andwhat is right will be done. I have spoken. Farewell!" He gave his handto Chief Red Crow. "My brother knows, " he added, "the Police do notlie. "

So saying, he wheeled his horse and, with Mr. Cadwaller before him, rode off after the others of the party, who had by this time gone somedistance up the trail. 

For a few moments hesitation held the crowd, then with a loud cry WhiteHorse galloped up and again seized Mr. Cadwaller's bridle. Instantly theInspector covered him with his gun. 

"Hold up your hands quick!" he said. 

The Indian dropped the bridle rein. The Inspector handed his gun to Mr. Cadwaller. 

"Don't shoot till I speak or I shoot you!" he said sternly. Mr. Cadwaller took the gun and covered the Indian. In a twinkling WhiteHorse found himself with handcuffs on his wrists and his bridle lineattached to the horn of the Inspector's saddle. 

"Now give me that gun, Mr. Cadwaller, and here take your own--but waitfor the word. Forward!"

He had not gone a pace till he was surrounded by a score of angryand determined Indians with levelled rifles. For the first time theInspector hesitated. Through the line of levelled rifles Chief Red Crowrode up and in a grave but determined voice said:

"My brother is wrong. White Horse, chief. My young men not let him go. "

"Good!" said the Inspector, promptly making up his mind. "I let him gonow. In two days I come again and get him. The Police never lie. "

So saying, he released White Horse and without further word, anddisregarding the angry looks and levelled rifles, rode slowly off afterhis party. On the edge of the crowd he met Sergeant Crisp. 

"Thought I'd better come back, Sir. It looked rather ugly for a minute, "said the Sergeant. 

"Ride on, " said the Inspector. "We will get our man to-morrow. Steady, Mr. Cadwaller, not too fast. " The Inspector slowed his horse down toa walk, which he gradually increased to an easy lope and so brought upwith Cameron and the others. 

Through the long evening they pressed forward till they came to theKootenay River, having crossed which they ventured to camp for thenight. 

After supper the Inspector announced his intention of riding on to theFort for reinforcements, and gave his instructions to the Sergeant. 

"Sergeant Crisp, " he said, "you will make an early start and bring inthe bunch to-morrow morning. Mr. Cadwaller, you remember you are toremain at the Fort two days so that the charges brought by White Horsemay be investigated. "

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Cadwaller. "Wait for them blank blank devils? Say, Inspector, you don't mean that?"

"You heard me promise the Indians, " said the Inspector. 

"Why, yes. Mighty smart, too! But say, you were jest joshing, weren'tyou?"

"No, Sir, " replied the Inspector. "The Police never break a promise towhite man or Indian. "

Then Mr. Cadwaller cut loose for a few moments. He did not object towaiting any length of time to oblige a friend, but that he shoulddelay his journey to answer the charges of an Indian, variously andpicturesquely described, was to him an unthinkable proposition. 

"Sergeant Crisp, you will see to this, " said the Inspector quietly as herode away. 

Then Mr. Cadwaller began to laugh and continued laughing for severalminutes. 

"By the holy poker, Sligh!" at last he exclaimed. "It's a joke. It's aregular John Bull joke. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Sligh, while he cut a comfortable chew from his blackplug. "Good joke, too, but not on John. I guess that's how five hundredpolice hold down--no, take care of--twenty thousand redskins. "

And the latest recruit to Her Majesty's North West Mounted Policestraightened up till he could feel the collar of his tunic catch him onthe back of the neck and was conscious of a little thrill running up hisspine as he remembered that he was a member of that same force. 

CHAPTER VII

THE MAKING OF BRAVES

It was to Cameron an extreme satisfaction to ride with some twenty ofhis comrades behind White Horse, who, handcuffed and with bridle reinstied to those of two troopers, and accompanied by Chief Red Crow, BullBack, and others of their tribe, made ignominious and crestfallen entryinto the Fort next day. It was hardly less of a satisfaction to see Mr. Cadwaller exercise himself considerably in making defence against thecharges of Bull Back and his friends. The defence was successful, and the American citizens departed to Lone Pine, Montana, with theirrecovered horses and with a new and higher regard for both the executiveand administrative excellence of Her Majesty's North West Mounted Policeofficers and men. Chief Red Crow, too, returned to his band with achastened mind, it having been made clear to him that a chief who couldnot control his young braves was not the kind of a chief the Great WhiteMother desired to have in command of her Indian subjects. White Horse, also, after three months sojourn in the cooling solitude of the Policeguard room, went back to his people a humbler and a wiser brave. 

The horse-stealing, however, went merrily on and the summer of 1884stands in the records of the Police as the most trying period of theirhistory in the Northwest up to that date. The booming upon the easternand southern boundaries of Western Canada of the incoming tide ofhumanity, hungry for land, awakened ominous echoes in the littleprimitive settlements of half-breed people and throughout thereservations of the wild Indian tribes as well. Everywhere, withoutwarning and without explanation, the surveyors' flags and posts madeappearance. Wild rumours ran through the land, till every flutteringflag became the symbol of dispossession and every gleaming postan emblem of tyrannous disregard of a people's rights. The ancientaboriginal inhabitants of the western plains and woods, too, had theirgrievances and their fears. With phenomenal rapidity the buffalo hadvanished from the plains once black with their hundreds of thousands. With the buffalo vanished the Indians' chief source of support, theirfood, their clothing, their shelter, their chief article of barter. Bereft of these and deprived at the same time of the supreme joy ofexistence, the chase, bitten with cold, starved with hunger, fearfulof the future, they offered fertile soil for the seeds of rebellion. Agovernment more than usually obsessed with stupidity, as all governmentsbecome at times, remained indifferent to appeals, deaf to remonstrances, blind to danger signals, till through the remote and isolatedsettlements of the vast west and among the tribes of Indians, hunger-bitten and fearful for their future, a spirit of unrest, of fear, of impatience of all authority, spread like a secret plague from PrinceAlbert to the Crow's Nest and from the Cypress Hills to Edmonton. A violent recrudescence of whiskey-smuggling, horse-stealing, andcattle-rustling made the work of administering the law throughoutthis vast territory one of exceeding difficulty and one calling forpromptitude, wisdom, patience, and courage, of no ordinary quality. Added to all this, the steady advance of the railroad into the newcountry, with its huge construction camps, in whose wake followedthe lawless hordes of whiskey smugglers, tinhorn gamblers, thugs, andharlots, very materially added to the dangers and difficulties of thesituation for the Police. 

For the first month after enlistment Cameron was kept in close touchwith the Fort and spent his hours under the polishing hands of the drillsergeant. From five in the morning till ten at night the day's routinekept him on the grind. Hard work it was, but to Cameron a continuousdelight. For the first time in his life he had a job that seemed wortha man's while, and one the mere routine of which delighted his soul. Heloved his horse and loved to care for him, and, most of all, loved toride him. Among his comrades he found congenial spirits, both among theofficers and the men. Though discipline was strict, there was an utterabsence of anything like a spirit of petty bullying which too often isfound in military service; for in the first place the men were in verymany cases the equals and sometimes the superiors of the officers bothin culture and in breeding, and further, and very specially, the natureof the work was such as to cultivate the spirit of true comradeship. When officer and man ride side by side through rain and shine, throughburning heat and frost "Forty below, " when they eat out of the same panand sleep in the same "dug-out, " when they stand back to back in themidst of a horde of howling savages, rank comes to mean little andmanhood much. 

Between Inspector Dickson and Cameron a genuine friendship sprangup; and after his first month was in, Cameron often found himself thecomrade of the Inspector in expeditions of special difficulty wherethere was a call for intelligence and nerve. The reports of theseexpeditions that stand upon the police record have as little semblanceof the deeds achieved as have stark and grinning skeletons in themedical student's private cupboard to the living moving bodies theyonce were. The records of these deeds are the bare bones. The flesh andblood, the life and colour are to be found only in the memories of thosewho were concerned in their achievement. 

But even in these bony records there are to be seen frequent entries inwhich the names of Inspector Dickson and Constable Cameron stand sideby side. For the Inspector was a man upon whom the Commissioner andthe Superintendent delighted to load their more dangerous and delicatecases, and it was upon Cameron when it was possible that the Inspector'schoice for a comrade fell. 

It was such a case as this that held the Commissioner and SuperintendentCrawford in anxious consultation far into a late September night. Whenthe consultation was over, Inspector Dickson was called in and theresult of this consultation laid before him. 

"We have every reason to believe, as you well know, Inspector Dickson, "said the Commissioner, "that there is a secret and wide-spreadpropagandum being carried on among our Indians, especially among thePiegans, Bloods, and Blackfeet, with the purpose of organizing rebellionin connection with the half-breed discontent in the territories to theeast of us. Riel, you know, has been back for some time and we believehis agents are busy on every reservation at present. This outbreak ofhorse-stealing and whiskey-smuggling in so many parts of the country atthe same time is a mere blind to a more serious business, the hatchingof a very wide conspiracy. We know that the Crees and the Assiniboinesare negotiating with the half-breeds. Big Bear, Beardy, and Little Pineare keen for a fight. There is some very powerful and secret influenceat work among our Indians here. We suspect that the ex-Chief of theBloods, Little Thunder, is the head of this organization. A verydangerous and very clever Indian he is, as you know. We have a chargeof murder against him already, and if we can arrest him and one or twoothers it would do much to break up the gang, or at least to hold incheck their organization work. We want you to get quietly after thisbusiness, visit all the reservations, obtain all information possible, and when you are ready, strike. You will be quite unhampered in yourmovements and the whole force will co-operate with you if necessary. Weconsider this an extremely critical time and we must be prepared. Take aman with you. Make your own choice. "

"I expect we know the man the Inspector will choose, " saidsuperintendent Crawford with a smile. 

"Who is that?" asked the Commissioner. 

"Constable Cameron, of course. "

"Ah, yes, Cameron. You remember I predicted he would make good. He hascertainly fulfilled my expectation. "

"He is a good man, " said the Inspector quietly. 

"Oh come, Inspector, you know you consider him the best all-round man atthis post, " said the Superintendent. 

"Well, you see, Sir, he is enthusiastic for the service, he works hardand likes his work. "

"Right you are!" exclaimed the Superintendent. "In the first place, heis the strongest man on the force, then he is a dead shot, a good manwith a horse, and has developed an extraordinary gift in tracking, andbesides he is perfectly straight. "

"Is that right, Inspector?"

"Yes, " said the Inspector very quietly, though his eyes were gleaming atthe praise of his friend. "He is a good man, very keen, very reliable, and of course afraid of nothing. "

The Superintendent laughed quietly. 

"You want him then, I suppose?"

"Yes, " said the Inspector, "if it could be managed. "

"I don't know, " said the Commissioner. "That reminds me. " He took aletter from the file. "Read that, " he said, "second page there. It is aprivate letter from Superintendent Strong at Calgary. "

The Inspector took the letter and read at the place indicated--

"Another thing. The handling of these railroad construction gangs isno easy matter. We are pestered with whiskey-smugglers, gamblers, andprostitutes till we don't know which way to turn. As the work extendsinto the mountains and as the camps grow in numbers the difficultyof control is very greatly increased. I ought to have my forcestrengthened. Could you not immediately spare me at least eight or tengood men? I would like that chap Cameron, the man, you know, who caughtthe half-breed Louis in the Sarcee camp and carried him out on hishorse's neck--a very fine bit of work. Inspector Dickson will tell youabout him. I had it from him. Could you spare Cameron? I would recommendhim at once as a sergeant. "

The Inspector handed back the letter without comment. 

"Well?" said the Commissioner. 

"Cameron would do very well for the work, " said the Inspector, "and hedeserves promotion. "

"What was that Sarcee business, Inspector?" enquired the Commissioner. "That must have been when I was down east. "

"Oh, " said the Inspector, "it was a very fine thing indeed of Cameron. Louis 'the Breed' had been working the Bloods. We got on his track andheaded him up in the Sarcee camp. He is rather a dangerous character andis related to the Sarcees. We expected trouble in his arrest. We rodein and found the Indians, to the number of a hundred and fifty or more, very considerably excited. They objected strenuously to the arrest ofthe half-breed. Constable Cameron and I were alone. We had left aparty of men further back over the hill. The half-breed brought it uponhimself. He was rash enough to make a sudden attack upon Cameron. That is where he made his mistake. Before he knew where he was Cameronslipped from his horse, caught him under the chin with a very niceleft-hander that laid him neatly out, swung him on to his horse, and wasout of the camp before the Indians knew what had happened. "

"The Inspector does not tell you, " said Superintendent Crawford, "howhe stood off that bunch of Sarcees and held them where they were tillCameron was safe with his man over the hill. But it was a very cleverbit of work, and, if I may say it, deserves recognition. "

"I should like to give you Cameron if it were possible, " said theCommissioner, "but this railroad business is one of great difficulty andSuperintendent Strong is not the man to ask for assistance unless he isin pretty desperate straits. An unintelligent or reckless man would beworse than useless. "

"How would it do, " suggested the Superintendent, "to allow Cameron inthe meantime to accompany the Inspector? Then later we might send him toSuperintendent Strong. "

Reporting this arrangement to Cameron a little later, the Inspectorenquired:

"How would you like to have a turn in the mountains? You would findSuperintendent Strong a fine officer. "

"I desire no change in that regard, " replied Cameron. "But, curiouslyenough, I have a letter this very mail that has a bearing upon thismatter. Here it is. It is from an old college friend of mine, Dr. Martin. "

The Inspector took the letter and read--

"I have got myself used up, too great devotion to scientific research;hence I am accepting an offer from the railroad people for work in themountains. I leave in a week. Think of it! The muck and the ruck, theexecrable grub and worse drink! I shall have to work my passage on handcars and doubtless by tie pass. My hands will lose all their polish. However, there may be some fun and likely some good practice. I seethey are blowing themselves up at a great rate. Then, too, there isthe prospective joy of seeing you, of whom quite wonderful tales havefloated east to us. I am told you are in direct line for the positionof the High Chief Muck-a-muck of the Force. Look me up in SuperintendentStrong's division. I believe he is the bulwark of the Empire in mydistrict. 

"A letter from the old burgh across the pond tells me your governor isfar from well. Awfully sorry to hear it. It is rough on your sister, towhom, when you write, remember your humble servant. 

"I am bringing out two nurses with me, both your devotees. Look out forsqualls. If you get shot up see that you select a locality where themedical attendance and nursing are 'A 1'. "

"It would be awfully good to see the old boy, " said Cameron as he tookthe letter from the Inspector. "He is a decent chap and quite up-to-datein his profession. "

"What about the nurses?" enquired the Inspector gravely. 

"Oh, I don't know them. Never knew but one. A good bright little soulshe was. Saw me through a typhoid trip. Little too clever sometimes, "he added, remembering the day when she had taken her fun out of theslow-footed, slow-minded farmer's daughter. 

"Well, " said the Inspector, "we shall possibly come across them inour round-up. This is rather a big game, a very big game and one worthplaying. "

A bigger game it turned out than any of the players knew, bigger in itsimmediate sweep and in its nationwide issues. 

For three months they swept the plains, haunting the reservations atunexpected moments. But though they found not a few horses and cattlewhose obliterated brands seemed to warrant confiscation, and thoughthere were signs for the instructed eye of evil doings in many an Indiancamp, yet there was nothing connected with the larger game upon whichthe Inspector of Police could lay his hand. 

Among the Bloods there were frequent sun-dances where many braves weremade and much firewater drunk with consequent blood-letting. Red Crowdeprecated these occurrences, but confessed his powerlessness to preventthe flow of either firewater or of blood. A private conversation withthe Inspector left with the Chief some food for thought, however, andresulted in the cropping of the mane of White Horse, of whose comingsand goings the Inspector was insistently curious. 

On the Blackfeet reservation they ran into a great pow-wow of chiefsfrom far and near, to which old Crowfoot invited the representativesof the Great White Mother with impressive cordiality, an invitation, however, which the Inspector, such was his strenuous hunt for stolenhorses, was forced regretfully to decline. 

"Too smooth, old boy, too smooth!" was the Inspector's comment as theyrode off. "There are doings there without doubt. Did you see the Creeand the Assiniboine?"

"I could not pick them out, " said Cameron, "but I saw Louis the Breed. "

"Ah, you did! He needs another term at the Police sanatarium. "

They looked in upon the Sarcees and were relieved to find them franklyhostile. They had not forgotten the last visit of the Inspector and hisfriend. 

"That's better, " remarked the Inspector as they left the reservation. "Neither the hostile Indian nor the noisy Indian is dangerous. When hegets smooth and quiet watch him, like old Crowfoot. Sly old boy he is!But he will wait till he sees which way the cat jumps. He is no leaderof lost causes. "

At Morleyville they breathed a different atmosphere. They feltthemselves to be among friends. The hand of the missionary here was uponthe helm of government and the spirit of the missionary was the spiritof the tribe. 

"Any trouble?" enquired the Inspector. 

"We have a great many visitors these days, " said the missionary. "Andsome of our young men don't like hunger, and the offer of a full feastmakes sweet music in their ears. "

"Any sun-dances?"

"No, no, the sun-dances are all past. Our people are no longer pagans. "

"Good man!" was the Inspector's comment as they took up the trail againtoward the mountains. "And with quite a sufficient amount of the wisdomof the serpent in his guileless heart. We need not watch the Stonies. Here's a spot at least where religion pays. And a mighty good thing forus just now, " added the inspector. "These Stonies in the old dayswere perfect devils for fighting. They are a mountain people and forgenerations kept the passes against all comers. But Macdougall haschanged all that. "

Leaving the reservation, they came upon the line of the railway. 

"There lies my old trail, " said Cameron. "And my last camp was onlyabout two miles west of here. "

"It was somewhere here that Raven fell in with you?"

"No, some ten miles off the line, down the old Kootenay trail. "

"Aha!" said the Inspector. "It might not be a bad idea to beat up thatsame old trail. It is quite possible that we might fall in with your oldfriends. "

"It would certainly be a great pleasure, " replied Cameron, "to conductMr. Raven and his Indian friend over this same trail as they did me somenine months ago. "

"We will take a chance on it, " said the Inspector. "We lose time goingback the other way. "

Upon the site of McIvor's survey camp they found camped a largeconstruction gang. Between the lines of tents, for the camp was orderedin streets like a city, they rode till they came to the headquarters ofthe Police, and enquired for the Superintendent. The Superintendenthad gone up the line, the Sergeant informed them, following the largerconstruction gangs. The Sergeant and two men had some fifty miles ofline under patrol, with some ten camps of various kinds on the line andin the woods, and in addition they had the care of that double stream ofhumanity flowing in and flowing out without ceasing day or night. 

As the Inspector stepped inside the Police tent Cameron's attention wasarrested by the sign "Hospital" upon a large double-roofed tent set on awooden floor and guyed with more than ordinary care. 

"Wonder if old Martin is anywhere about, " he said to himself as he rodeacross to the open door. 

"Is Dr. Martin in?" he enquired of a Chinaman, who appeared from a tentat the rear. 

"Doc Matin go 'way 'long tlain. "

"When will he come back?" demanded Cameron. 

"Donno. See missy woman. "

So saying, he disappeared into the tent while Cameron waited. 

"You wish to see the doctor? He has gone west. Oh! Why, it--"

Cameron was off his horse, standing with his hat in one hand, the otheroutstretched toward the speaker. 

"Why! it cannot be!--it is--my patient. " The little nurse had his handin both of hers. "Oh, you great big monster soldier! Do you know howfine you look?"

"No, " replied Cameron, "but I do know how perfectly fine you look. "

"Well, don't devour me. You look dangerous. "

"I should truly love one little bite. "

"Oh, Mr. Cameron, stop! You terrible man! Right in the open street!" Thelittle nurse's cheeks flamed red as she quickly glanced about her. "Whatwould Dr. Martin say?"

"Dr. Martin!" Cameron laughed. "Besides, I couldn't help it. "

"Oh, I am so glad!"

"Thank you, " said Cameron. 

"I mean I am so glad to see you. They told us you would be comingto join us. And now they are gone. What a pity! They will be sodisappointed. "

"Who, pray, will be thus blighted?"

"Oh, the doctor I mean, and--and"--here her eyes dancedmischievously--"the other nurse, of course. But you will be going west?"

"No, south, to-day, and in a few minutes. Here comes the Inspector. MayI present him?"

The little nurse's snapping eyes glowed with pleasure as they ran overthe tall figure of the Inspector and rested upon his fine clean-cutface. The Inspector had just made his farewell to the Sergeantpreparatory to an immediate departure, but it was a full half hourbefore they rose from the dainty tea table where the little nurse hadmade them afternoon tea from her own dainty tea set. 

"It makes me think of home, " said the Inspector with a sigh as he bentover the little nurse's hand in gratitude. "My first real afternoon teain ten years. "

"Poor man!" said the nurse. "Come again. "

"Ah, if I could!"

"But YOU are coming?" said the little nurse to Cameron as he held herhand in farewell. "I heard the doctor say you were coming and we arequite wild with impatience over it. "

Cameron looked at the Inspector. 

"I had thought of keeping Cameron at Macleod, " said the latter. "But nowI can hardly have the heart to do so. "

"Oh, you needn't look at me so, " said the little nurse with a saucy tossof her head. "He wouldn't bother himself about me, but--but--there isanother. No, I won't tell him. " And she laughed gaily. 

Cameron stood mystified. 

"Another? There is old Martin of course, but there is no other. "

The little nurse laughed, this time scornfully. 

"Old Martin indeed! He is making a shameless pretence of ignorance, Inspector Dickson. "

"Disgraceful bluff I call it, " cried the Inspector. 

"Who can it be?" said Cameron. "I really don't know any nurse. Of courseit can't be--Mandy--Miss Haley?" He laughed a loud laugh almost ofderision as he made the suggestion. 

"Ah, he's got it!" cried the nurse, clapping her hands. "As if he everdoubted. "

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Cameron. "You don't mean to tell me thatMandy--What is poor Mandy doing here? Cooking?"

"Cooking indeed!" exclaimed the nurse. "Cooking indeed! Just let the menin this camp, from John here, " indicating the Chinaman at the rearof the tent, "to the Sergeant yonder, hear you by the faintest toneindicate anything but adoration for Nurse Haley, and you will need thewhole Police Force to deliver you from their fury. "

"Good Heavens!" said Cameron in an undertone. "A nurse! With thosehands!" He shuddered. "I mean, of course--you know--she's awfullygood-hearted and all that, but as a nurse you know she is impossible. "

The little nurse laughed long and joyously. 

"Oh, this is fun! I wish Dr. Martin could hear you. You forget, Sir, that for a year and a half she has had the benefit of my example andtuition. "

"Think of that, Cameron!" murmured the Inspector reproachfully. ButCameron only shook his head. 

"Good-bye!" he said. "No, I don't think I pine for mountain scenery. Remember me to Martin and to Man--to Nurse Haley. "

"Good-bye!" said the little nurse. "I have a good mind to tell them whatyou said. I may. Just wait, though. Some day you will very humbly beg mypardon for that slight upon my assistant. "

"Slight? Believe me, I mean none. I would be an awful cad if I did. But--well, you know as well as I do that, good soul as Mandy is, she isin many ways impossible. "

"Do I?" Again the joyous laugh pealed out. "Well, well, come back andsee. " And waving her hand she stood to watch them down the trail. 

"Jolly little girl, " said the Inspector, as they turned from the railwaytote road down the coulee into the Kootenay trail. "But who is thisother?"

"Oh, " said Cameron impatiently, "I feel like a beastly cad. She'sthe daughter of the farmer where I spent a summer in Ontario, a goodsimple-hearted girl, but awfully--well--crude, you know. And yet--"Cameron's speech faded into silence, for his memory played a trick uponhim, and again he was standing in the orchard on that sunny autumn daylooking into a pair of wonderful eyes, and, remembering the eyes, heforgot his speech. 

"Ah, yes, " said the Inspector. "I understand. "

"No, you don't, " said Cameron almost rudely. "You would have to see herfirst. By Jove!" He broke into a laugh. "It is a joke with a vengeance, "and relapsed into silence that lasted for some miles. 

That night they slept in the old lumber camp, and the afternoon of thesecond day found them skirting the Crow's Nest. 

"We've had no luck this trip, " growled the Inspector, for now they werefacing toward home. 

"Listen!" said Cameron, pulling up his horse sharply. Down the pass thefaraway beat of a drum was heard. It was the steady throb of the tom-tomrising and falling with rhythmic regularity. 

"Sun-dance, " said the Inspector, as near to excitement as he generallyallowed himself. "Piegans. "

"Where?" said Cameron. 

"In the sun-dance canyon, " answered the Inspector. "I believe in my soulwe shall see something now. Must be two miles off. Come on. "

Though late in December the ground was still unfrozen and the new-madegovernment trail gave soft footing to their horses. And so without fearof detection they loped briskly along till they began to hearrising above the throb of the tom-tom the weird chant of the Indiansun-dancers. 

"They are right down in the canyon, " said the Inspector. "I know thespot well. We can see them from the top. This is their most sacred placeand there is doubtless something big going on. "

They left the main trail and, dismounting, led their horses throughthe scrubby woods, which were thick enough to give them cover withoutimpeding very materially their progress. Within a hundred yards of thetop they tied their horses in the thicket and climbed the slight ascent. Crawling on hands and knees to the lip of the canyon, they looked downupon a scene seldom witnessed by the eyes of white men. The canyon wasa long narrow valley, whose rocky sides, covered with underbrush, rosesome sixty feet from a little plain about fifty yards wide. The littleplain was filled with the Indian encampment. At one end a huge fireblazed. At the other, and some fifty yards away, the lodges were set ina semicircle, reaching from side to side of the canyon, and in front ofthe lodges were a mass of Indian warriors, squatting on their hunkers, beating time, some with tom-toms, others with their hands, to theweirdly monotonous chant, that rose and fell in response to thegesticulations of one who appeared to be their leader. In the centre ofthe plain stood a post and round this two circles of dancers leapedand swayed. In the outer circle the men, with clubs and rifles in theirhands, recited with pantomimic gestures their glorious deeds in thewar or in the chase. The inner circle presented a ghastly and horridspectacle. It was composed of younger men, naked and painted, some ofwhom were held to the top of the post by long thongs of buffalo hideattached to skewers thrust through the muscles of the breast or back. Upon these thongs they swayed and threw themselves in frantic attemptsto break free. With others the skewers were attached by thongs tobuffalo skulls, stones or heavy blocks of wood, which, as they dancedand leaped, tore at the bleeding flesh. Round and round the post thenaked painted Indians leaped, lurching and swaying from side to sidein their desperate efforts to drag themselves free from those tearingskewers, while round them from the dancing circle and from the mass ofIndians squatted on the ground rose the weird, maddening, savage chantto the accompaniment of their beating hands and throbbing drums. 

"This is a big dance, " said the Inspector, subduing his voice to anundertone, though in the din there was little chance of his being heard. "See! many braves have been made already, " he added, pointing to a placeon one side of the fire where a number of forms could be seen, somelying flat, some rolling upon the earth, but all apparently more or lessin a stupor. 

Madder and madder grew the drums, higher and higher rose the chant. Now and then an older warrior from the squatting circle would fling hisblanket aside and, waving his rifle high in the air, would join withloud cries and wild gesticulations the outer circle of dancers. 

"It is a big thing this, " said the Inspector again. "No squaws, you see, and all in war paint. They mean business. We must get closer. "

Cameron gripped him by the arm. 

"Look!" he said, pointing to a group of Indians standing at a littledistance beyond the lodges. "Little Thunder and Raven!"

"Yes, by Jove!" said the Inspector. "And White Horse, and Louis theBreed and Rainy Cloud of the Blackfeet. A couple of Sarcee chaps, I see, too, some Piegans and Bloods; the rest are Crees and Assiniboines. Thewhole bunch are here. Jove, what a killing if we could get them! Let'swork nearer. Who is that speaking to them?"

"That's Raven, " said Cameron, "and I should like to get my hands onhim. "

"Steady now, " said the Inspector. "We must make no mistake. "

They worked along the top of the ravine, crawling through the bushes, till they were immediately over the little group of which Raven was thecentre. Raven was still speaking, the half-breed interpreting to theCrees and the Assiniboines, and now and then, as the noise from thechanting, drumming Indians subsided, the policemen could catch a fewwords. After Raven had finished Little Thunder made reply, apparentlyin strenuous opposition. Again Raven spoke and again Little Thunder madereply. The dispute waxed warm. Little Thunder's former attitude towardsRaven appeared to be entirely changed. The old subservience was gone. The Indian stood now as a Chief among his people and as such wasrecognized in that company. He spoke with a haughty pride of consciousstrength and authority. He was striving to bring Raven to his way ofthinking. At length Raven appeared to throw down his ultimatum. 

"No!" he cried, and his voice rang up clear through the din. "You arefools! You are like little partridges trying to frighten the hunter. TheGreat White Mother has soldiers like the leaves of the trees. I know, for I have seen them. Do not listen to this man!" pointing to LittleThunder. "Anger has made him mad. The Police with their big guns willblow you to pieces like this. " He seized a bunch of dead leaves, groundthem in his hands and puffed the fragments in their faces. 

The half-breed and Little Thunder were beside themselves with rage. Longand loud they harangued the group about them. Only a little of theirmeaning could the Inspector gather, but enough to let him know thatthey were looking down upon a group of conspirators and that plans for awidespread rebellion were being laid before them. 

Through the harangues of Little Thunder and Louis the half-breed Ravenstood calmly regarding them, his hands on his hips. He knew well, as didthe men watching from above, that all that stood between him and deathwere those same two hands and the revolvers in his belt, whose buttswere snugly nosing up to his fingers. Little Thunder had too often seenthose fingers close and do their deadly work while an eyelid might winkto venture any hasty move. 

"Is that all?" said Raven at last. 

Little Thunder made one final appeal, working himself up into a finefrenzy of passion. Then Raven made reply. 

"Listen to me!" he said. "It is all folly, mad folly! And besides, " andhere his voice rang out like a trumpet, "I am for the Queen, God blessher!" His figure straightened up, his hands dropped on the butts of hisguns. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Cameron. "Isn't that great?"

"Very fine, indeed, " said the Inspector softly. Both men's guns werelined upon the conspirators. 

Then the half-breed spoke, shrugging his shoulders in contempt. 

"Let heem go. Bah! No good. " He spat upon the ground. 

Raven stood as he was for a few moments, smiling. 

"Good-bye, all, " he said. "Bon jour, Louis. Let no man move! Let no manmove! I never need to shoot at a man twice. Little Thunder knows. Anddon't follow!" he added. "I shall be waiting behind the rocks. "

He slowly backed away from the group, turned in behind a shelteringrock, then swiftly began to climb the rocky sides of the canyon. Themoment he was out of sight Little Thunder dodged in behind the ledges, found his rifle, and, making a wide detour, began to climb the side ofthe ravine at an angle which would cut off Raven's retreat. All thistook place in full view of the two watchers above. 

"Let's get that devil, " said the Inspector. But Cameron was alreadygone. Swiftly along the lip of the canyon Cameron ran and worked his waydown the side till he stood just over the sloping ledge upon which theIndian was crouched and waiting. Along this lodge came the unconsciousRaven, softly whistling to himself his favourite air, "Three cheers for the red, white and blue. "

There was no way of warning him. Three steps more and he would be withinrange. The Inspector raised his gun and drew a bead upon the crouchingIndian. 

"Wait!" whispered Cameron. "Don't shoot. It will bring them all down onus. " Gathering himself together as he spoke, he vaulted clear overthe edge of the rock and dropped fair upon the shoulders of the Indianbelow, knocking the breath completely out of him and bearing him flat tothe rock. Like a flash Cameron's hand was on the Indian's throat so thathe could make no outcry. A moment later Raven came in view. Swifter thanlight his guns were before his face and levelled at Cameron. 

"Don't shoot!" said the Inspector quietly from above. "I have youcovered. "

Perilous as the situation was, Cameron was conscious only of thehumourous side of it and burst into a laugh. 

"Come here, Raven, " he said, "and help me to tie up this fellow. " SlowlyRaven moved forward. 

"Why, by all the gods! If it isn't our long-lost friend, Cameron, "he said softly, putting up his guns. "All right, old man, " he added, nodding up at the Inspector. "Now, what's all this? What? LittleThunder? So! Then I fancy I owe my life to you, Cameron. "

Cameron pointed to Little Thunder's gun. Raven stood looking downupon the Indian, who was recovering his wind and his senses. His facesuddenly darkened. 

"You treacherous dog! Well, we are now nearly quits. Once you saved mylife, now you would have taken it. "

Meantime Cameron had handcuffed Little Thunder. 

"Up!" he said, prodding him with his revolver. "And not a sound!"

Keeping within cover of the bushes, they scrambled up the ravine side. As they reached the top the Indian with a mighty wrench tore himselffrom Cameron's grip and plunged into the thicket. Before he had taken asecond step, however, the Inspector was upon him like a tiger and borehim to the ground. 

"Will you go quietly, " said the Inspector, "or must we knock you on thehead?" He raised his pistol over the Indian as he spoke. 

"I go, " grunted the Indian solemnly. 

"Come, then, " said the Inspector, "we'll give you one chance more. Where's your friend?" he added, looking about him. But Raven was gone. 

"I am just as glad, " said Cameron, remembering Raven's declaration ofallegiance a few moments before. "He wasn't too bad a chap after all. Wehave this devil anyhow. "

"Quick, now, " said the Inspector. "We have not a moment to lose. Thisis an important capture. How the deuce we are to get him to the Fort Idon't know. "

Through the bushes they hurried their prisoner, threatening him withtheir guns. When they came to their horses they were amazed to findLittle Thunder's pony beside their own and on the Inspector's saddle aslip of paper upon which in the fading light they found inscribed "Onegood turn deserves another. With Mr. Raven's compliments. "

"By Jove, he's a trump!" said the Inspector. "I'd like to get him, butall the same--"

And so they rode off to the Fort. 

CHAPTER VIII

NURSE HALEY

The railway construction had reached the Beaver, and from Lagganwestward the construction gangs were strewn along the line in stragglingcamps, straggling because, though the tents of the railway men were setin orderly precision, the crowds of camp-followers spread themselveshither and thither in disorderly confusion around the outskirts of thecamp. 

To Cameron, who for a month had been attached to Superintendent Strong'sdivision, the life was full of movement and colour. The two constablesand Sergeant Ferry found the duty of keeping order among the navvies, but more especially among the outlaw herd that lay in wait to flingthemselves upon their monthly pay like wolves upon a kill, sufficientlyarduous to fill to repletion the hours of the day and often of thenight. 

The hospital tent where the little nurse reigned supreme became toCameron and to the Sergeant as well a place of refuge and relief. NurseHaley was in charge further down the line. 

The post had just come in and with it a letter for Constable Cameron. Itwas from Inspector Dickson. 

"You will be interested to know, " it ran, "that when I returned fromStand Off two days ago I found that Little Thunder, who had been waitinghere for his hanging next month, had escaped. How, was a mystery toeverybody; but when I learned that a stranger had been at the Fort andhad called upon the Superintendent with a tale of horse-stealing, hadasked to see Little Thunder and identified him as undoubtedly the thief, and had left that same day riding a particularly fine black broncho, I made a guess that we had been honoured by a visit from your friendRaven. That guess was confirmed as correct by a little note which Ifound waiting me from this same gentleman explaining Little Thunder'sabsence as being due to Raven's unwillingness to see a man go to thegallows who had once saved his life, but conveying the assurance thatthe Indian was leaving the country for good and would trouble us nomore. The Superintendent, who seems to have been captured by yourfriend's charm of manner, does not appear to be unduly worried and holdsthe opinion that we are well rid of Little Thunder. But I venture tohold a different opinion, namely, that we shall yet hear from thatIndian brave before the winter is over. 

"Things are quiet on the reservations--altogether too quiet. The Indiansare so exceptionally well behaved that there is no excuse for arrestingany suspects, so White Horse, Rainy Cloud, those Piegan chaps, and therest of them are allowed to wander about at will. The country is fullof Indian and half-breed runners and nightly pow-wows are the vogueeverywhere. Old Crowfoot, I am convinced, is playing a deep game and issimply waiting the fitting moment to strike. 

"How is the little nurse? Present my duty to her and to that other nurseover whom hangs so deep a mystery. "

Cameron folded up his letter and imparted some of the news to theSergeant. 

"That old Crowfoot is a deep one, sure enough, " said Sergeant Ferry. "Ittakes our Chief here to bring him to time. Superintendent Strong has thedistinction of being the only man that ever tamed old Crowfoot. Haveyou never heard of it? No? Well, of course, we don't talk about thesethings. I was there though, and for cold iron nerve I never saw anythinglike it. It was a bad half-breed, " continued Sergeant Ferry, who, whenhe found a congenial and safe companion, loved to spin a yarn--"a badhalf-breed who had been arrested away down the line, jumped off thetrain and got away to the Blackfeet. The Commissioner happened to be inCalgary and asked the Superintendent himself to see about the captureof this desperado. So with a couple of us mounted and another driving abuckboard we made for Chief Crowfoot's encampment. It was a black nightand raining a steady drizzle. We lay on the edge of the camp for acouple of hours in the rain and then at early dawn we rode in. It tookthe Superintendent about two minutes to locate Crowfoot's tent, and, leaving us outside, he walked straight in. There was our man, as largeas life, in the place of honour beside old Crowfoot. The interpreter, who was scared to death, afterwards told me all about it. 

"'I want this man, ' said the Superintendent, hardly waiting to saygood-day to the old Chief. 

"Crowfoot was right up and ready for a fight. The Superintendent, without ever letting go the half-breed's shoulder, set out the case. Meantime the Indians had gathered in hundreds about the tent outside, all armed, and wild for blood, you bet. I could hear the Superintendentmaking his statement. All at once he stopped and out he came with hisman by the collar, old Crowfoot after him in a fury, but afraid to givethe signal of attack. The Indians were keen to get at us, but the oldChief had his men in hand all right. 

"'Don't think you will not get justice, ' said the Superintendent. 'Youcome yourself and see. Here's a pass for you on the railroad and forany three of your men. But let me warn you that if one hair of my men istouched, it will be a bad day for you, Crowfoot, and for your band. '

"He bundled his man into the buckboard and sent him off. TheSuperintendent and I waited on horseback in parley with old Crowfoottill the buckboard was over the hill. Such a half hour I never expect tosee again. I felt like a man standing over an open keg of gunpowder witha lighted match. Any moment a spark might fall, and then good-bye. Andit is this same nerve of his that holds down these camps along thisline. Here we are with twenty-five men from Laggan to Beaver keepingorder among twenty-five hundred railroad navvies, not a bad lot, andtwenty-five hundred others, the scum, the very devil's scum from acrossthe line, and not a murder all these months. Whiskey, of course, but allunder cover. I tell you, he's put the fear of death on all that tinhornbunch that hang around these camps. "

"There doesn't seem to be much trouble just now, " remarked Cameron. 

"Trouble? There may be the biggest kind of trouble any day. Some ofthese contractors are slow in their pay. They expect men to wait amonth or two. That makes them mad and the tinhorn bunch keep stirringup trouble. Might be a strike any time, and then look out. But our Chiefwill be ready for them. He won't stand any nonsense, you bet. "

At this point in the Sergeant's rambling yarn the door was flung openand a man called breathlessly, "Man killed!"

"How is that?" cried the Sergeant, springing to buckle on his belt. 

"An accident--car ran away--down the dump. "

"They are altogether too flip with those cars, " growled the Sergeant. "Come on!"

They ran down the road and toward the railroad dump where they saw acrowd of men. The Sergeant, followed by Cameron, pushed his way throughand found a number of navvies frantically tearing at a pile of jaggedblocks of rock under which could be seen a human body. It took only afew minutes to remove the rocks and to discover lying there a young man, a mere lad, from whose mangled and bleeding body the life appeared tohave fled. 

As they stood about him, a huge giant of a man came tearing his waythrough the crowd, pushing men to right and left. 

"Let me see him, " he cried, dropping on his knees. "Oh Jack, lad, theyhave done for you this time. "

As he spoke the boy opened his eyes, looked upon the face of his friend, smiled and lay still. Then the Sergeant took command. 

"Is the doctor back, does anyone know?"

"No, he's up the line yet. He is coming in on number seven. "

"Well, we must get this man to the hospital. Here, you, " he said, touching a man on the arm, "run and tell the nurse we are bringing awounded man. "

They improvised a stretcher and laid the mangled form upon it the bloodstreaming from wounds in his legs and trickling from his pallid lips. 

"Here, two men are better than four. Cameron, you take the head, andyou, " pointing to Jack's friend, "take his feet. Steady now! I'll justgo before. This is a ghastly sight. "

At the door of the hospital tent the little nurse met them, pale, butready for service. 

"Oh, my poor boy!" she cried, as she saw the white face. "This way, Sergeant, " she added, passing into a smaller tent at one side of thehospital. "Oh, Mr. Cameron, is that you? I am glad you are here. "

"Has Nurse Haley come?" enquired the Sergeant. 

"Yes, she came in last night, thank goodness. Here, on this table, Sergeant. Oh I wish the doctor were here! Now we must lift him on tothis stretcher. Ah, here's Nurse Haley, " she added in a relieved voice, and before Cameron was aware, a girl in a nurse's uniform stood by himand appeared quietly to take command. 

"Here Sergeant, " she said, "two men take his feet. " She put her armsunder the boy's shoulder and gently and with apparent ease, assisted bythe others, lifted him to the table. "A little further--there. Now youare easier, aren't you?" she said, smiling down into the lad's face. Hervoice was low and soft and full toned. 

"Yes, thank you, " said the boy, biting back his groans and with apitiful attempt at a smile. 

"You're fine now, Jack. You'll soon be fixed up now, " said his friend. 

"Yes Pete, I'm all right, I know. "

"Oh, I wish the doctor were here!" groaned the little nurse. 

"What about a hypo?" enquired Nurse Haley quietly. 

"Yes, yes, give him one. "

Cameron's eyes followed the firm, swift-moving fingers as they deftlygave the hypodermic. 

"Now we must get this bleeding stopped, " she said. 

"Get them all out, Sergeant, please, " said the little nurse. "One or twowill do to help us. You stay, Mr. Cameron. "

At the mention of his name Nurse Haley, who had been busy preparingbandages, dropped them, turned, and for the first time looked Cameron inthe face. 

"Is it you?" she said softly, and gave him her hand, and, as more thanonce before, Cameron found himself suddenly forgetting all the world. Hewas looking into her eyes, blue, deep, wonderful. 

It was only for a single moment that his eyes held hers, but to him itseemed as if he had been in some far away land. Without a single word ofgreeting he allowed her to withdraw her hand. Wonder, and something hecould not understand, held him dumb. 

For the next half hour he obeyed orders, moving as in a dream, assistingthe nurses in their work; and in a dream he went away to his ownquarters and thence out and over the dump and along the tote road thatled through the straggling shacks and across the river into the forestbeyond. But of neither river nor forest was he aware. Before his eyesthere floated an illusive vision of masses of fluffy golden hair abovea face of radiant purity, of deft fingers moving in swift and sureprecision as they wound the white rolls of bandages round bloody andbroken flesh, of two round capable arms whose lines suggested strengthand beauty, of a firm knit, pliant body that moved with easy sinuousgrace, of eyes--but ever at the eyes he paused, forgetting all else, till, recalling himself, he began again, striving to catch and hold thatradiant, bewildering, illusive vision. That was a sufficiently maddeningprocess, but to relate that vision of radiant efficient strengthand grace to the one he carried of the farmer's daughter with herdun-coloured straggling hair, her muddy complexion, her stupid face, her clumsy, grimy hands and heavy feet, her sloppy figure, was quiteimpossible. After long and strenuous attempts he gave up the struggle. 

"Mandy!" he exclaimed aloud to the forest trees. "That Mandy! What'sgone wrong with my eyes, or am I clean off my head? I will go back, " hesaid with sudden resolution, "and take another look. "

Straight back he walked to the hospital, but at the door he paused. Whywas he there? He had no excuse to offer and without excuse he felt hecould not enter. He was acting like a fool. He turned away and once moresought his quarters, disgusted with himself that he should be disturbedby the thought of Mandy Haley or that it should cause him a moment'sembarrassment to walk into her presence with or without excuse, determinedly he set himself to regain his one-time attitude of mindtoward the girl. With little difficulty he recalled his sense ofsuperiority, his kindly pity, his desire to protect her crude simplicityfrom those who might do her harm. With a vision of that Mandy beforehim, the drudge of the farm, the butt of Perkins' jokes, the object ofpity for the neighbourhood, he could readily summon up all the feelingshe had at one time considered it the correct and rather fine thing tocherish for her. But for this young nurse, so thoroughly furnished andfit, and so obviously able to care for herself, these feelings would notcome. Indeed, it made him squirm to remember how in his farewell in theorchard he had held her hand in gentle pity for her foolish and alltoo evident infatuation for his exalted and superior self. His groan ofself-disgust he hastily merged into a cough, for the Sergeant had hiseyes upon him. Indeed, the Sergeant did not help his state of mind, forhe persisted in executing a continuous fugue of ecstatic praise of NurseHaley in various keys and tempos, her pluck, her cleverness, her skill, her patience, her jolly laugh, her voice, her eyes. To her eyes theSergeant ever kept harking back as to the main motif of his fugue, tillCameron would have dearly loved to chuck him and his fugue out of doors. 

He was saved from deeds of desperate violence by a voice at the door. 

"Letta fo' Mis Camelon!"

"Hello, Cameron!" exclaimed the Sergeant, handing him the note. "You'rein luck. " There was no mistaking the jealousy in the Sergeant's voice. 

"Oh, hang it!" said Cameron as he read the note. 

"What's up?"

"Tea!"

"Who?" enquired the Sergeant eagerly. 

"Me. I say, you go in my place. "

The Sergeant swore at him frankly and earnestly. 

"All right John, " said Cameron rather ungraciously. 

"You come?" enquired the Chinaman. 

"Yes, I'll come. "

"All lite!" said John, turning away with his message. 

"Confound the thing!" growled Cameron. 

"Oh come, you needn't put up any bluff with me, you know, " said theSergeant. 

But Cameron made no reply. He felt he was not ready for the interviewbefore him. He was distinctly conscious of a feeling of nervousembarrassment, which to a man of experience is disconcerting andannoying. He could not make up his mind as to the attitude which itwould be wise and proper for him to assume toward--ah--Nurse Haley. Whynot resume relations at the point at which they were broken off in theorchard that September afternoon a year and a half ago? Why not? Mandywas apparently greatly changed, greatly improved. Well, he was delightedat the improvement, and he would frankly let her see his pleasure andapproval. There was no need for embarrassment. Pshaw! Embarrassment? Hefelt none. 

And yet as he stood at the door of the nurses' tent he was disquieted tofind himself nervously wondering what in thunder he should talk about. As it turned out there was no cause for nervousness on this score. Thelittle nurse and the doctor--Nurse Haley being on duty--kept the streamof talk rippling and sparkling in an unbroken flow. Whenever a pause didoccur they began afresh with Cameron and his achievements, of which theystrove to make him talk. But they ever returned to their own work amongthe sick and wounded of the camps, and as often as they touched thistheme the pivot of their talk became Nurse Haley, till Cameron began tosuspect design and became wrathful. They were talking at him and weretaking a rise out of him. He would show them their error. He at oncebecame brilliant. 

In the midst of his scintillation he abruptly paused and sat listening. Through the tent walls came the sound of singing, low-toned, rich, penetrating. He had no need to ask about that voice. In silence theylooked at him and at each other. 

 "We're going home, no more to roam, No more to sin and sorrow, No more to wear the brow of care, We're going home to-morrow. 

 "We're going home; we're going home; We're going home to-morrow. "

Softer and softer grew the music. At last the voice fell silent. ThenNurse Haley appeared, radiant, fresh, and sweet as a clover field withthe morning dew upon it, but with a light as of another world upon herface. 

With the spell of her voice, of her eyes, of her radiant face upon him, Cameron's scintillation faded and snuffed out. He felt like a boy at hisfirst party and enraged at himself for so feeling. How bright she was, how pure her face under the brown gold hair, how dainty the bloom uponher cheek, and that voice of hers, and the firm lithe body with curvinglines of budding womanhood, grace in every curve and movement! The Mandyof old faded from his mind. Have I seen you before? And where? And howlong ago? And what's happening to me? With these questions he vexedhis soul while he strove to keep track of the conversation between thethree. 

A call from the other tent summoned Nurse Haley. 

"Let me go instead, " cried the little nurse eagerly. But, light-footedas a deer, Mandy was already gone. 

When the tent flap had fallen behind her Cameron pushed back his plate, leaned forward upon the table and, looking the little nurse full in theface, said:

"Now, it's no use carrying this on. What have you done to her?" And thelittle nurse laughed her brightest and most joyous laugh. 

"What has she done to us, you mean. "

"No. Come now, take pity on a fellow. I left her--well--you know what. And now--how has this been accomplished?"

"Soul, my boy, " said the doctor emphatically, "and the hairdresserand--"

But Cameron ignored him. 

"Can you tell me?" he said to the nurse. 

"Well, as a nurse, is she quite impossible?"

"Oh, spare me, " pleaded Cameron. "I acknowledge my sin and my folly isbefore me. But tell me, how was this miracle wrought?"

"What do you mean exactly? Specify. "

"Oh, hang it! Well, beginning at the top, there's her hair. "

"Her hair?"

"Yes. "

"Then, her complexion--her grace of form--her style--her manner. Oh, confound it! Her hands--everything. "

"Well, " said the little nurse with deliberation, "let's begin at thetop. Her hair? A hairdresser explains that. Her complexion? A littletreatment, massage, with some help from the doctor. Her hands? Againtreatment and release from brutalising work. Her figure? Well, you know, that depends, though we don't acknowledge it always, to a certain extenton--well--things--and how you put them on. "

"Nurse, " said the doctor gravely, "you're all off. The transformationis from within and is explained, as I have said, by one word--soul. Thesoul has been set free, has been allowed to break through. That is all. Why, my dear fellow, " continued the doctor with rising enthusiasm, "whenthat girl came to us we were in despair; and for three months she keptus there, pursuing us, hounding us with questions. Never saw anythinglike it. One telling was enough though. Her eyes were everywhere, herears open to every hint, but it was her soul, like a bird imprisoned andbeating for the open air. The explanation is, as I have said just now, soul--intense, flaming, unquenchable soul--and, I must say it, thedressmaker, the hairdresser, and the rest directed by our young friendhere, " pointing to the little nurse. "Why, she had us all on the job. Weall became devotees of the Haley Cult. "

"No, " said the nurse, "it was herself. "

"Isn't that what I have been telling you?" said the doctor impatiently. "Soul--soul--soul! A soul somehow on fire. "

And with that Cameron had to be content. 

Yes, a soul it was, at one time dormant and enwrapped within its coarseintegument. Now, touched into life by some divine fire, it had throughits own subtle power transformed that coarse integument into its ownpure gold. What was that fire? What divine touch had kindled it? And, more important still, was that fire still aglow, or, having doneits work, had it for lack of food flickered and died out? With thesequestions Cameron vexed himself for many days, nor found an answer. 

CHAPTER IX

"CORPORAL" CAMERON

Jack Green did not die. Every morning for a fortnight ConstableCameron felt it to be his duty to make enquiry--the Sergeant, it may beadded--performing the same duty with equal diligence in the afternoon, and every day the balance, which trembled evenly for some time betweenhope and fear, continued to dip more and more decidedly toward theformer. 

"He's going to live, I believe, " said Dr. Martin one day. "And he owesit to the nurse. " The doctor's devotion to and admiration for NurseHaley began to appear to Cameron unnecessarily pronounced. "She simplywould not let him go!" continued the doctor. "She nursed him, sangto him her old 'Come all ye' songs and Methodist hymns, she spun himbarnyard yarns and orchard idyls, and always 'continued in our next, 'till the chap simply couldn't croak for wanting to hear the next. "

At times Cameron caught through the tent walls snatches of those songsand yarns and idyls, at times he caught momentary glimpses of the brightyoung girl who was pouring the vigour of her life into the lad fightingfor his own, but these snatches and glimpses only exasperated him. Therewas no opportunity for any lengthened and undisturbed converse, for onthe one hand the hospital service was exacting beyond the strengthof doctor and nurses, and on the other there was serious trouble forSuperintendent Strong and his men in the camps along the line, for ageneral strike had been declared in all the camps and no one knew atwhat minute it might flare up into a fierce riot. 

It was indeed exasperating to Cameron. The relations between himself andNurse Haley were unsatisfactory, entirely unsatisfactory. It was clearlyhis duty--indeed he owed it to her and to himself--to arrive at someunderstanding, to establish their relations upon a proper and reasonablebasis. He was at very considerable pains to make it clear, not onlyto the Sergeant, but to the cheerful little nurse and to the doctor aswell, that as her oldest friend in the country it was incumbent upon himto exercise a sort of kindly protectorate over Nurse Haley. In thisit is to be feared he was only partially successful. The Sergeant wasobviously and gloomily incredulous of the purity of his motives, thelittle nurse arched her eyebrows and smiled in a most annoying manner, while the doctor pendulated between good-humoured tolerance and mildsarcasm. It added not a little to Cameron's mental disquiet that he wasquite unable to understand himself; indeed, through these days he wasengaged in conducting a bit of psychological research, with his ownmind as laboratory and his mental phenomena as the materia for hisinvestigation. It was a most difficult and delicate study and onedemanding both leisure and calm--and Cameron had neither. The briefminutes he could snatch from Her Majesty's service were necessarilygiven to his friends in the hospital and as to the philosophic calmnecessary to research work, a glimpse through the door of Nurse Haley'sgolden head bending over a sick man's cot, a snatch of song in the deepmellow tones of her voice, a touch of her strong firm hand, a quietsteady look from her deep, deep eyes--any one of these was sufficient toscatter all his philosophic determinings to the winds and leave his soula chaos of confused emotions. 

Small wonder, then, that twenty times a day he cursed the luck thathad transferred him from the comparatively peaceful environment ofthe Police Post at Fort Macleod to the maddening whirl of conflictingdesires and duties attendant upon the Service in the railroadconstruction camps. A letter from his friend Inspector Dicksonaccentuated the contrast. 

"Great doings, my boy, " wrote the Inspector, evidently under the spellof overmastering excitement. "We have Little Thunder again in the toils, this time to stay, and we owe this capture to your friend Raven. Aweek ago Mr. Raven coolly walked into the Fort and asked for theSuperintendent. I was down at stables at the time. As he was coming outI ran into him and immediately shouted 'Hands up!'

"'Ah, Mr. Inspector, ' said my gentleman, as cool as ice, 'delighted tosee you again. '

"'Stand where you are!' I said, and knowing my man and determined totake no chances, I ordered two constables to arrest him. At this theSuperintendent appeared. 

"'Ah, Inspector, ' he said, 'there is evidently some mistake here. '

"'There is no mistake, Superintendent, ' I replied. 'I know this man. Heis wanted on a serious charge. '

"'Kindly step this way, Mr. Raven, ' said the Superintendent, 'and you, Inspector. I have something of importance to say to you. '

"And, by Jove, it was important. Little Thunder had broken his pledgeto Raven to quit the rebellion business and had perfected a plan fora simultaneous rising of Blackfeet, Bloods, Piegans, and Sarcees nextmonth. Raven had stumbled upon this and had deliberately put himselfin the power of the Police to bring this information. 'I am not quiteprepared, ' he said, 'to hand over this country to a lot of ballyhalf-breeds and bloody savages. ' Together the Superintendent and he hadperfected a plan for the capture of the heads of the conspiracy. 

"'As to that little matter of which you were thinking, InspectorDickson, ' said my Chief, 'I think if you remember, we have no definitecharge laid against Mr. Raven, who has given us, by the way, veryvaluable information upon which we must immediately act. We are also tohave Mr. Raven's assistance. '

"Well, we had a glorious hunt, and by Jove, that man Raven is a wonder. He brought us right to the bunch, walked in on them, cool and quiet, pulled two guns and held them till we all got in place. There will be norebellion among these tribes this year, I am confident. "

And though it does not appear in the records it is none the less truethat to the influence of Missionary Macdougall among the Stonies and tothe vigilance of the North West Mounted Police was it due that duringthe Rebellion of '85 Canada was spared the unspeakable horrors of anIndian war. 

It was this letter that deepened the shadow upon Cameron's face andsharpened the edge on his voice as he looked in upon his hospitalfriends one bright winter morning. 

"You are quite unbearable!" said the little nurse after she had listenedto his grumbling for a few minutes. "And you are spoiling us all. "

"Spoiling you all?"

"Yes, especially me, and--Nurse Haley. "

"Nurse Haley?"

"Yes. You are disturbing her peace of mind. "

"Disturbing her? Me?"

A certain satisfaction crept into Cameron's voice. Nothing is socalculated to restore the poise of the male mind as a consciousness ofpower to disturb the equilibrium of one of the imperious sex. 

"And you must not do it!" continued the little nurse. "She has far toomuch to bear now. "

"And haven't I been just telling you that?" said Cameron savagely. "Shenever gets off. Night and day she is on the job. I tell you, I won't--itshould not be allowed. " Cameron was conscious of a fine glow offraternal interest in this young girl. "For instance, a day like this!Look at these white mountains, and that glorious sky, and this wonderfulair, and not a breath of wind! What a day for a walk! It would doher--it would do you all a world of good. "

"Wait!" cried the little nurse, who had been on duty all night. "I'lltell her what you say. "

Apparently it took some telling, for it was a full precious quarter ofan hour before they appeared again. 

"There, now, you see the effect of your authority. She would not budgefor me, but--well--there she is! Look at her!"

There was no need for this injunction. Cameron's eyes were alreadyfastened upon her. And she was worth any man's while to look at in hertramping costume of toque and blanket coat. Tall, she looked, besidethe little nurse, lithe and strong, her close-fitting Hudson Bay blanketcoat revealing the swelling lines of her budding womanhood. The daintywhite toque perched upon the masses of gold-brown hair accentuated thegirlish freshness of her face. At the nurse's words she turned her eyesupon Cameron and upon her face, pale with long night watches, a faintred appeared. But her eyes were quiet and steady and kind; too quiet andtoo kind for Cameron, who was looking for other signals. There was nosign of disturbance in that face. 

"Come on!" he said impatiently. "We have only one hour. "

"Oh, what a glorious day!" cried Nurse Haley, drawing a deep breath andstriding out like a man to keep pace with Cameron. "And how good of youto spare me the time!"

"I have been trying to get you alone for the last two weeks, " saidCameron. 

"Two weeks?"

"Yes, for a month! I wanted to talk to you. "

"To talk with me? About what?"

"About--well--about everything--about yourself. "

"Me?"

"Yes. I don't understand you. You have changed so tremendously. "

"Oh, " exclaimed the girl, "I am so glad you have noticed that! Have Ichanged much?"

"Much? I should say so! I find myself wondering if you are the Mandy Iused to know at all. "

"Oh, " she exclaimed, "I am so glad! You see, I needed to change somuch. "

"But how has it happened?" exclaimed Cameron. "It is a miracle to me. "

"How a miracle?"

For a few moments they walked on in silence, the tote road leading theminto the forest. After a time the nurse said softly, "It was you who began it. "

"I?"

"Yes, you--and then the nurse. Oh, I can never repay her! The day thatyou left--that was a dreadful day. The world was all black. I could nothave lived, I think, many days like that. I had to go into town and Icouldn't help going to her. Oh, how good she was to me that day! howgood! She understood, she understood at once. She made me come for aweek to her, and then for altogether. That was the beginning; then Ibegan to see how foolish I had been. "

"Foolish?"

"Yes, wildly foolish! I was like a mad thing, but I did not know then, and I could not help it. "

"Help what?"

"Oh, everything! But the nurse showed me--she showed me--"

"Showed you?"

"Showed me how to take care of myself--to take care of my body--of mydress--of my hair. Oh, I remember well, " she said with a bright littlelaugh, "I remember that hair-dresser. Then the doctor came and gave mebooks and made me read and study--and then I began to see. Oh, it waslike a fire--a burning fire within me. And the doctor was good to me, so very patient, till I began to love my profession; to love it at firstfor myself, and then for others. How good they all were to me thosedays!--the nurses in the hospital, the doctors, the students--everyoneseemed to be kind; but above them all my own nurse here and my owndoctor. "

In hurried eager speech she poured forth her heart as if anxious tofinish her tale--her voice, her eyes, her face all eloquent of theintense emotion that filled her soul. 

"It is wonderful!" said Cameron. 

"Yes, " she replied, "wonderful indeed! And I wanted to see you and haveyou see me, " she continued, still hurrying her speech, "for I could notbear that you should remember me as I was those dreadful days; and I amso glad that you--you--are pleased!" The appeal in her voice and in hereyes roused in Cameron an overwhelming tide of passion. 

"Pleased!" he cried. "Pleased! Great Heavens, Mandy! You are wonderful!Don't you know that?"

"No, " she said thoughtfully; "but, " she drew a long breath, "I like tohear you say it. That is all I want. You see I owe it all to you. " Theface she turned to him so innocently happy might have been a child's. 

"Mandy, " cried Cameron, stopping short in his walk, "you--I--!" Thatfrank childlike look in her eyes checked his hot words. But there wasno need for words; his eyes spoke for his faltering lips. A look of fearleaped to her eyes, a flow of red blood to her cheeks; then she stood, white, trembling and silent. 

"I am tired, I think, " she said after a moment's silence, "we will goback. "

"Yes, you are tired, " said Cameron angrily. "You are tired to death. Mandy, you need some one to take care of you. I wish you would let me. "They were now walking back toward the town. 

"They are all good to me; they are all kind to me. " Her voice was quietand steady. She had gained control of herself again. "Why, even John theChinaman, " she added with a laugh, "spoils me. Oh, no harm can come tome--I have no fear!"

"But, " said Cameron, "I--I want to take care of you, Mandy. I want theright to take care of you, always. "

"I know, I know, " she said kindly. "You are so good; you were always sogood; but I need no one. "

Cameron glanced at the lithe, strong, upright figure striding alongbeside him with easy grace; and the truth came to him in swift andpainful revelation. 

"You are right, " he said as if to himself. "You need no one, and youdon't need me. "

"But, " she cried eagerly, "it was good of you all the same. "

"Good!" he said impatiently. "Good! Nonsense! I tell you, Mandy, I wantyou, I want you. Do you understand? I want to marry you. "

"Oh, don't say that!" she cried, stopping short, her voice disturbed, but kindly, gentle and strong. "Don't say that, " she repeated, "for, ofcourse, that is impossible. "

"Impossible!" he exclaimed angrily. 

"Yes, " she said, her voice still quiet and steady, "quite impossible. But I love you for saying it, oh--, " she suddenly caught her breath. "Oh, I love you for saying it. " Then pointing up the road she cried, "Look! Some one for you, I am sure. " A horseman was galloping swiftlytowards them. 

"Oh hang it all!" said Cameron. "What the deuce does he want now?"

"We must talk this out again, Mandy, " he said. 

"No, no!" she cried, "never again. Please don't, ever again; I could notbear it. But I shall always remember, and--I am so glad. " As she spoke, her hands, with her old motion, went to her heart. 

"Oh the deuce take it!" said Cameron as the Sergeant flung his horseback on his heels at their side. "What does he want?"

"Constable Cameron, " said the Sergeant in a voice of sharp command, "there's a row on. Constable Scott has been very badly handled in tryingto make an arrest. You are to report at once for duty. "

"All right, Sir, " said Cameron, "I shall return immediately. "

The Sergeant wheeled and was gone. 

"You must go!" cried Mandy, quick fear springing into her eyes. 

"Yes, " said Cameron, "at once. Come, I shall take you home. "

"No, never mind me!" she cried. "Go! Go! I can take care of myself. Ishall follow. " Her voice rang out strong and clear; she was herself oncemore. 

"You are the right sort, Mandy, " cried Cameron, taking her hand. "Goodbye!"

"Good bye!" she replied, her face suddenly pale and her lips beginningto quiver. "I shall always remember--I--shall--always be glad for--whatyou said today. "

Cameron stood looking at her for a moment somewhat uncertainly, then, "Good bye!" he said abruptly, and, turning, went at the double towardshis quarters. 

The strikers had indeed broken loose, supported by the ruffianly hordeof camp followers who were egging them on to violence and destruction ofproperty. At present they were wild with triumph over the fact that theyhad rescued one of their leaders, big Joe Coyle, from Constable Scott. It was an exceedingly dangerous situation, for the riot might easilyspread from camp to camp. Bruised and bloody, Constable Scott reportedto Superintendent Strong lying upon his sick bed. 

"Sergeant, " said the Superintendent, "take Constables Cameron and Scott, arrest that man at once and bring him here!"

In the village they found between eight hundred and a thousand men, manyof them crazed with bad whiskey, some armed with knives and some withguns, and all ready for blood. Big Joe Coyle they found in the saloon. Pushing his way through, the Sergeant seized his man by the collar. 

"Come along, I want you!" he said, dragging him to the open door. 

"Shut that there door, Hep!" drawled a man with a goatee and a moustachedyed glossy black. 

"All right, Bill!" shouted the man called Hep, springing to the door;but before he could make it Cameron had him by the collar. 

"Hold on, Hep!" he said, "not so fast. "

For answer Hep struck hard at him and the crowd of men threw themselvesat Cameron and between him and the door. Constable Scott, who also hadhis hand upon the prisoner, drew his revolver and looked towards theSergeant who was struggling in the grasp of three or four ruffians. 

"No!" shouted the Sergeant above the uproar. "Don't shoot--we have noorders! Let him go!"

"Go on!" he said savagely, giving his prisoner a final shake. "We willcome back for you. "

There was a loud chorus of derisive cheers. The crowd opened and allowedthe Sergeant and constables to pass out. Taking his place at the saloondoor with Constable Scott, the Sergeant sent Cameron to report and askfor further orders. 

"Ask if we have orders to shoot, " said the Sergeant. 

Cameron found the Superintendent hardly able to lift his head and madehis report. 

"The saloon is filled with men who oppose the arrest, Sir. What are yourorders?"

"My orders are, Bring that man here, and at once!"

"Have we instructions to shoot?"

"Shoot!" cried the Superintendent, lifting himself on his elbow. "Bringthat man if you have to shoot every man in the saloon!"

"Very well, Sir, we will bring him, " said Cameron, departing on a run. 

At the door of the saloon he found the Sergeant and Constable white hotunder the jeers and taunts of the half drunken gang gathered about them. 

"What are the orders, Constable Cameron?" enquired the Sergeant in aloud voice. 

"The orders are, Shoot every man in the saloon if necessary!" shoutedCameron. 

"Revolvers!" commanded the Sergeant. "Constable Cameron, hold the door!Constable Scott, follow me!"

At the door stood the man named Hep, evidently keeping guard. 

"Want in?" he said with a grin. 

For answer, Cameron gripped his collar, with one fierce jerk lifted himclear out of the door to the platform, and then, putting his body intoit, heaved him with a mighty swing far into the crowd below, bringingtwo or three men to the ground with the impact of his body. 

"Come here, man!" cried Cameron again, seizing a second man who stoodnear the door and flinging him clear off the platform after the unluckyHep. 

Speedily the crowd about the door gave back, and before they were awarethe Sergeant and Constable Scott appeared with big Joe Coyle betweenthem. 

"Take him!" said the Sergeant to Cameron. 

Cameron seized him by the collar. 

"Come here!" he said, and, clearing the platform in a spring, he broughthis prisoner in a heap with him. "Get up!" he roared at him, jerking himto his feet as if he had been a child. 

"Let him go!" shouted the man with the goatee, named Bill, rushing up. 

"Take that, then, " said Cameron, giving him a swift half-arm jab on thejaw, "and I'll come back for you again, " he added, as the man fell backinto the arms of his friends. 

"Forward!" said the Sergeant, falling in with Constable Scott behindCameron and facing the crowd with drawn revolvers. The swift fiercenessof the attack seemed to paralyse the senses of the crowd. 

"Come on, boys!" yelled the goatee man, bloody and savage with Cameron'sblow. "Don't let the blank blank blank rattle you like a lot of blankblank chickens. Come on!"

At once rose a roar from eight hundred throats like nothing human inits sound, and the crowd began to press close upon the Police. But therevolvers had an ugly appearance to those in front looking into theirlittle black throats. 

"Aw, come on!" yelled a man half drunk, running with a lurch upon theSergeant. 

"Crack!" went the Sergeant's revolver, and the man dropped with a bulletthrough his shoulder. 

"Next man, " shouted the Sergeant, "I shall kill!"

The crowd gave back and gathered round the wounded man. A stream lay inthe path of the Police, crossed by a little bridge. 

"Hurry!" said the Sergeant, "let's make the bridge before they comeagain. " But before they could make the bridge the crowd had recoveredfrom their momentary panic and, with wild oaths and yells andbrandishing knives and guns, came on with a rush, led by goatee Bill. 

Already the prisoner was half way across the bridge, the Sergeant andthe constable guarding the entrance, when above the din was heard a roaras of some animal enraged. Looking beyond the Police the crowd behelda fearsome sight. It was the Superintendent himself, hatless, and withuniform in disarray, a sword in one hand, a revolver in the other. Across the bridge he came like a tornado and, standing at the entrance, roared, "Listen to me, you dogs! The first man who sets foot on this bridge Ishall shoot dead, so help me God!"

His towering form, his ferocious appearance and his well-knownreputation for utter fearlessness made the crowd pause and, before theycould make up their minds to attack that resolute little company headedby their dread commander, the prisoner was safe over the bridge andwell up the hill toward the guard room. Half way up the hill theSuperintendent met Cameron returning from the disposition of hisprisoner. 

"There's another man down there, Sir, needs looking after, " he said. 

"Better let them cool off, Cameron, " said the Superintendent. 

"I promised I'd go for him, Sir, " said Cameron, his face all ablaze forbattle. 

"Then go for him, " said the Superintendent. "Let a couple of you goalong--but I am done--just now. "

"We will see you up the hill, Sir, " said the Sergeant. 

"Come on, Scott!" said Cameron, setting off for the village once more. 

The crowd had returned from the bridge and the leaders had alreadysought their favourite resort, the saloon. Straight to the door marchedCameron, followed by Scott. Close to the counter stood goatee Bill, loudly orating, and violently urging the breaking in of the guard roomand the release of the prisoner. 

"In my country, " he yelled, "we'd have that feller out in about sixminutes in spite of all the blank blank Police in this blank country. THEY ain't no good. They're scairt to death. "

At this point Cameron walked in upon him and laid a compelling grip uponhis collar. Instantly Bill reached for his gun, but Cameron, swiftlyshifting his grip to his arm, wrenched him sharply about and struck himone blow on the ear. As if held by a hinge, the head fell over on oneside and the man slithered to the floor. 

"Out of the way!" shouted Cameron, dragging his man with him, but justas he reached the door a heavy glass came singing through the air andcaught him on the head. For a moment he staggered, caught hold of thelintel and held himself steady. 

"Here, Scott, " he cried, "put the bracelets on him. "

With revolver drawn Constable Scott sprang to his side. 

"Come out!" he said to the goatee man, slipping the handcuffs over hiswrists, while Cameron, still clinging to the lintel, was fighting backthe faintness that was overpowering him. Seeing his plight, Hep sprangtoward him, eager for revenge, but Cameron covering him with his gunheld him in check and, with a supreme effort getting command of himself, again stepped towards Hep. 

"Now, then, " he said between his clenched teeth, "will you come?" Soterrible were his voice and look that Hep's courage wilted. 

"I'll come, Colonel, I'll come, " he said quickly. 

"Come then, " said Cameron, reaching for him and bringing him forwardwith a savage jerk. 

In three minutes from the time the attack was made both men, thoroughlysubdued and handcuffed, were marched off in charge of the constables. 

"Hurry, Scott, " said Cameron in a low voice to his comrade. "I am nearlyin. "

With all possible speed they hustled their prisoners along over thebridge and up the hill. At the hospital door, as they passed, Dr. Martinappeared. 

"Hello, Cameron!" he cried. "Got him, eh? Great Caesar, man, what'sup?" he added as Cameron, turning his head, revealed a face and neckbathed in blood. "You are white as a ghost. "

"Get me a drink, old chap. I am nearly in, " said Cameron in a faintvoice. 

"Come into my tent here, " said the doctor. 

"Got to see these prisoners safe first, " said Cameron, swaying on hisfeet. 

"Come in, you idiot!" cried the doctor. 

"Go in, Cameron, " said Constable Scott. "I'll take care of 'em allright, " he added, drawing his gun. 

"No, " said Cameron, still with his hand on goatee Bill's collar. "I'llsee them safe first, " saying which he swayed drunkenly about and, butfor Bill's support, would have fallen. 

"Go on!" said Bill good-naturedly. "Don't mind me. I'm good now. "

"Come!" said the doctor, supporting him into the tent. 

"Forward!" commanded Constable Scott, and marched his prisoners beforehim up the hill. 

The wound on Cameron's head was a ghastly affair, full six inches long, and went to the bone. 

"Rather ugly, " said the doctor, feeling round the wound. "Nurse!" hecalled. "Nurse!" The little nurse came running in. "Some water and asponge!"

There was a cry behind her--low, long, pitiful. 

"Oh, what is this?" With a swift movement Nurse Haley was beside thedoctor's bed. Cameron, who had been lying with his eyes closed and wasghastly white from loss of blood, opened his eyes and smiled up into theface above him. 

"I feel fine--now, " he said and closed his eyes again. 

"Let me do that, " said Nurse Haley with a kind of jealous fierceness, taking the sponge and basin from the little nurse. 

Examination revealed nothing more serious, however, than a deep scalpwound and a slight concussion. 

"He will be fit enough in a couple of days, " said the doctor when thewound was dressed. 

Then, pale and haggard as if with long watching, Nurse Haley went to herroom there to fight out her lonely fight while Cameron slept. 

The day passed in quiet, the little nurse on guard, and the doctorlooking in every half hour upon his patient. As evening fell Cameronwoke and demanded Nurse Haley. The doctor felt his pulse. 

"Send her in!" he said and left the tent. 

The rays of the sun setting far down the Pass shone through the wallsand filled the tent with a soft radiance. Into this radiance she came, her face pale as of one who has come through conflict, and serene as ofone who has conquered, pale and strong and alight, not with the radianceof the setting sun, but with light of a soul that has made the ancientsacrifice of self-effacing love. 

"You want me?" she said, her voice low and sweet, but for all her braveserenity tremulous. 

"Yes, " said Cameron, holding out his arms. "I want you; I want YOU, Mandy. "

"Oh, " cried the girl, while her hands fluttered to her heart, "don't askme to go through it again. I am so weak. " She stood like a frightenedbird poised for flight. 

"Come, " he said, "I want you. "

"You want me? You said you wanted to take care of me, " she breathed. 

"I was a fool, Mandy; a conceited fool! Now I know what I want--Iwant--just YOU. Come. " Again he lifted his arms. 

"Oh, it cannot be, " she breathed as if to herself. "Are you sure--sure?I could not bear it if you were not sure. "

"Come, dear love, " he cried, "with all my heart and soul and body I wantyou--I want only YOU. "

For a single moment longer she stood, her soul searching his through herwonderful eyes. Then with a little sigh she sank into his arms. 

"Oh, my darling, " she whispered, wreathing her strong young arms aroundhis neck and laying her cheek close to his, "my darling, I thought I hadgiven you up, but how could I have done it?"

At the hospital door the doctor was on guard. A massive figure loomed inthe doorway. 

"Hello, Superintendent Strong, what on earth are you doing out of bed?"

"Where is he?" said the Superintendent abruptly. 

"Who?"

"Corporal Cameron. "

"CORPORAL Cameron? Constable Cameron is--"

"Corporal Cameron, I said. I have just had Constable Scott's report andfelt I must see him at once. "

"Come in, Superintendent! Sit down! I shall enquire if he is resting. Nurse! Nurse! Enquire if Corporal Cameron can be seen. "

The little nurse tip-toed into the doctor's tent, lifted the curtain, took one glance and drew swiftly back. This is what her eyes lookedupon. A girl's form kneeling by the bed, golden hair mingling with blackupon the pillow, two strong arms holding her close and hers wreathed inanswering embrace. 

"Mr. Cameron I am afraid, " she reported, "cannot be seen. He is--Ithink--he is--engaged. "

"Ah!" said the doctor. 

"Well, " said the Superintendent, "just tell Corporal Cameron for me thatI am particularly well pleased with his bearing to-day, and that I hopehe will be very soon fit for duty. "

"Certainly, Superintendent. Now let me help you up the hill. "

"Never mind, here's the Sergeant. Good evening! Very fine thing! Veryfine thing indeed! I see rapid promotion in his profession for thatyoung man. "

"Inspector, eh?" said the doctor. 

"Yes, Sir, I should without hesitation recommend him and should be onlytoo pleased to have him as Inspector in my command. "

It was not, however, as Inspector that Corporal Cameron served under thegallant Superintendent, but in another equally honourable capacity didthey ride away together one bright April morning a few weeks later, onduty for their Queen and country. But that is another story. 

"That message ought to be delivered, nurse, " said the doctorthoughtfully. 

"But not at once, " replied the nurse. 

"It is important, " urged the doctor. 

"Yes, but--there are other things. "

"Ah! Other things?"

"Yes, equally--pressing, " said the nurse with an undeniably joyouslaugh. The doctor looked at her a moment. 

"Ah, nurse, " he said in a shocked tone, "how often have I deprecatedyour tendency to--"

"I don't care one bit!" laughed the nurse saucily. 

"The message ought to be delivered, " insisted the doctor firmly as hemoved toward the tent door. 

"Well, deliver it then. But wait!" The little nurse ran in before himand called "Nu-u-u-r-s-e Ha-l-ey!"

"All right!" called Cameron from the inside. "Come in!"

"Go on then, " said the little nurse to the doctor, "you wanted to. "

"A message from the Superintendent, " said the doctor, lifting thecurtain and passing in. 

"Don't move, Mandy, " said Cameron. "Never mind him. "

"No, don't, I beg, " said the doctor, ignoring what he saw. "A message, an urgent message for--Corporal Cameron!"

"CORPORAL Cameron?" echoed Nurse Haley. 

"He distinctly said and repeated it--Corporal Cameron. And the Corporalis to report for duty as speedily as possible. "

"He can't go, " said Mandy, standing up very straight with a light inher eyes that the doctor had not seen since that tragic night nearly twoyears before. 

"Can't, eh?" said the doctor. "But the Superintendent says CorporalCameron is--"

"Corporal Cameron can't go!"

"You--"

"Yes, I forbid it. "

"The Corporal is--?"

"Yes, " she said proudly, "the Corporal is mine. "

"Then, " said the doctor emphatically, "of all the lucky chaps it hasbeen my fortune to meet, by all the gods the luckiest of them is thissame Corporal Cameron!"

And Cameron, drawing down to him again the girl standing so straight andproud beside him, looked up at his friend and said:

"Yes, old chap, the luckiest man in all the world is that same CorporalCameron. "