A Damaged Reputation

"In point of fact, I rather think I did. The difficulty, however, is that I am still unable to get into the mine. I have invented several excuses, which did not work, already. Nobody except the men who get the ore is even allowed to look at the workings."

A little gleam crept into Saxton's eyes. "Now, it seems to me that Devine has struck it rich, or he wouldn't be so concerned particular. It's quite plain that he doesn't want everybody to know what he's getting out of the Canopus. It's only a mine that's paying folks think of jumping."

"Has it struck you that he might wish to sell it, and be taking precautions for exactly the opposite reason?"

Saxton made a little gesture of approval, though he shook his head. "You show you have a little sense now and then, but there's nothing in that view," he said. "Is a man going to lay out dollars on dams and wire-rope slings when he knows that none of them will be any use to him?"

"I think he might. That is, if he wanted investors, who could be induced to take it off his hands, to hear of it."

"The point is that he has only to put the Canopus into the market, and they'd pile down the dollars now."

"Still, it is presumably our business, and not Devine's, you purposed to talk about."

Saxton nodded. "Then we'll start in," he said. "You can't get into the mine, and it has struck me that if you could your eyes wouldn't be as good as a compass and a measuring-chain. Well, that brings us to the next move. When Devine left Vancouver a week ago, he took up a tin case he keeps the plans and patents of the Canopus in with him. You needn't worry about how I'm sure of this, but I am. Those papers will tell us all we want to know."

"I have no doubt they would. Still, I don't see that we are any nearer getting over the difficulty. Devine is scarcely likely to show them me."

"You'll have to lay your hands upon the case. It's in the ranch."

Brooke's face flushed, and for a moment his lips set tight, while he closed one hand as he looked at his confederate. Then he spoke on impulse, "I'll be hanged if I do!"

Saxton, who had, perhaps, expected the outbreak, regarded him with a little sardonic smile.

"Now," he said, quietly, "you'll listen to me, and put aside those notions of yours for a while. I've had about enough of them already. Devine robbed you – once – and he has taken dollars out of my pocket a good many times, while I can't see any great difference between glancing at another man's papers and crawling into his mine. We're not going to take the Canopus from him anyway – it would be too big a deal – but we have got to find out enough to put the screw on him. You don't owe him anything, for you're building those flumes and dams cheaper than he would get it done by anybody else."

Brooke sat silent a space, with the blood still in his cheeks and one hand closed. He was sensible of a curious disgust, and yet it was evident that his confederate was right. There was, after all, no great difference between the scheme suggested and what he had already been willing to do, and yet he was sensible that it was not that fact which chiefly influenced him, for Saxton had done wisely when he hinted at Barbara Heathcote's supposititious fondness for the naval officer. Brooke had already endeavored to contemplate the likelihood of something of this kind happening, with equanimity, and there was nothing incredible about the story. The men of the Pacific Squadron were frequently in Victoria, and steamers crossed to Vancouver every day; but now probability had changed to what appeared to be certainty, he was sensible almost of dismay. At the same time, the restraint which had counted most with him was suddenly removed, and he turned to Saxton with a little decisive gesture. He certainly owed Devine nothing, and his confederate had, when he needed it badly, shown him what he fancied was, in part, at least, genuine kindness.

"Well," he said, "I will do what I can."

"Then," said Saxton, drily, "you had better do it soon. Devine goes across to the Sumas valley, where he's selling land, every now and then, and I have reason for believing he's expected there not later than next week. I guess he's not likely to take that case with him. It's quite a big one. You'll get hold of it, and find out what we want to know, as soon as he's gone."

"The question is – How am I to manage it? You wouldn't expect me to pick the lock of his safe, presumably?"

Saxton, who appeared reflective, quite failed to notice the irony of the inquiry. "Well," he said, "if I figured I could do it, I guess I wouldn't let that stand in my way. Still, I'm not sure that he has any, and it's even chances he keeps the case under some books or truck of that kind in the room he has fixed up as office at the ranch. You see, the dollars for the men come straight up from Vancouver every pay-day."

Brooke straightened himself in his chair, with a little shake of his shoulders. "Now," he said, "we'll talk of something else. This isn't particularly pleasant. I had, of course, realized before I came out that one might find it necessary to follow an occupation he had no particular taste for in the Dominion of Canada, which is, it seems, the home of the adaptable man who can accustom himself to anything, but I really never expected that I should consider it an admissible thing to steal my employer's papers. That, however, is not the question. Give me a cigar, and tell me how you purpose stimulating the progress of this great province when you get into the Legislature."

Saxton did so at length, and it was perfectly evident that he saw no incongruity between what he purposed to do when in the Legislature and the means he adopted of getting there, for he sketched out reforms and improvements with optimistic ability. Once or twice a sardonic smile crept into Brooke's eyes, for there was no mistaking the fact that the man was serious, and then his attention wandered, and he ruminated on the position. Saxton appeared curiously well informed as to Devine's movements, but though Brooke could find no answer to the question how he had obtained the information, it did not, after all, seem to be of any great importance, and he once more found himself listening to his comrade languidly. Saxton was then declaiming against official corruption and incapacity.

"We want to make a clean sweep, and put the best and squarest men into office. This country has no use for any other kind," he said.

"That," said Brooke, drily, "is no doubt why you are going in. Anyway, I fancy it is getting late, and I have a long ride before me to-morrow."

Saxton smiled good-humoredly. "Well," he said, "I can go just as straight as any man when I've made my little pile. Most folks find it a good deal easier then."

It seemed to Brooke, who had not found adversity especially conducive to uprightness, that there was, perhaps, a certain truth in his comrade's notion, but he felt no great inclination to consider the question, and in another ten minutes was sinking into sleep. He also started before sunrise next morning, and was walking stiffly up the climbing trail to the Canopus mine, with the bridle of the jaded horse in his hand, when he came upon Barbara Heathcote amidst the pines. She apparently noticed his weariness and the mire upon the horse.

"The trail must have been very bad," she said.

"It certainly was," said Brooke, who, because it did not appear advisable that any one should suspect he was riding to the Elktail mine, had taken the trail to the settlement when he set out. "When there has been heavy rain, it usually is. The trail-choppers should have laid down logs in the Saverne swamp."

"But what took you that way?" said the girl. "It must have been a tremendous round."

Brooke realized that he had been indiscreet, for nobody who wished to reach the settlement was likely to cross that swamp.

"As a matter of fact, it is," he said. "As you see, the horse is almost played out."

Barbara glanced at him, as he fancied, rather curiously, but she changed the subject. "I have a friend from Vancouver, who heard you play at the concert, here, and we had hoped you might be persuaded to bring your violin across to the ranch to-night. Katty asked Jimmy to tell you that we expected you. That is, if you were not too tired."

Brooke felt the blood creep into his face. He longed to go, but he had a sense of fitness, and he felt that, although such scruples were a trifle out of place in his case, he could not, after the arrangement he had made with Saxton, betray the girl's confidence by visiting the ranch again as a respected guest. No excuse but the one she had suggested, however, presented itself, and it seemed to him advisable to make use of it with uncompromising candidness. Her friendliness hurt him, and, since it presumably sprang from a mistaken good opinion, it would be a slight relief to show her that he was deficient even in courtesy.

"I'm almost afraid I am," he said.

Barbara Heathcote had a good deal of self-restraint, but there was a trace of astonishment in her face, and, for a moment, a suspicious sparkle in her eyes.

"Then we will, of course, excuse you," she said. "You will, I hope, not think it very inconsiderate of me to stop you now."

Brooke said nothing, but tugged at the bridle viciously, and trudged forward into the gloom of the pines, while Barbara, who would not admit that she had come there in the hope of meeting him, turned homewards thoughtfully. As it happened, she also met the freight-packer, who brought their supplies up on the way.

"Where is Saverne swamp? Behind the range, isn't it?" she said.

"Yes, miss," said the freighter, pointing across the pines. "Back yonder."

"Then if I wished to ride into the settlement I could scarcely go round that way?"

The man laughed. "No," he said. "I guess you couldn't. Not unless you started the night before, and then you'd have to climb right across the big divide. Nobody heading for the settlement would take that trail."

He went on with his loaded beasts, and Barbara stood still, looking down upon the forest with a little pink tinge in her cheeks and a curious expression in her eyes. Remembering the trace of disconcertion he had shown, she very much wished to know where Brooke had really been.

XVI.

BARBARA'S RESPONSIBILITY

Darkness had closed down outside, and the lamp was lighted in Devine's office, which occupied a projection of the wooden ranch. Behind it stood the kitchen, and a short corridor, which gave access to both, led back from its inner door to the main building. Another door opened directly on to the clearing, and a grove of willows, past which the trail led, crept close up to it, so that any one standing among them could see into the room. There was, however, little probability of that happening, for nobody lived in that stretch of forest, except the miners, whose shanty stood almost a mile away. Devine sat opposite the captain of the mine across the little table, and he had let his cigar go out, while his face was a trifle grim.

"The last clean-up was not particularly encouraging, Tom," he said.

Wilkins nodded, and there was a trace of concern in his face, which was seamed and rugged, for he was one of the old-time prospectors, who, trusting solely to their practical acquaintance with the rocks, had played a leading part in the development of the mineral resources of that province.

"The trouble is that the next one's going to be worse," he said. "The pay-dirt's getting scarcer as we cut further in, and I have a notion that the boys are beginning to notice it now and then, though there's not a man in the crowd who would make his grub prospecting. They're road-makers, most of them."

Devine glanced at the little leather-bound book he held, in which was entered the net yield of gold from the ore the stamps crushed down, and noted the steady decrease.

"It's quite plain to me that the vein is working out," he said. "It remains to be seen whether we'll strike better rock with the adit on the different level. I don't notice very many signs of that yet."

Wilkins shook his head. "I guess I haven't seen any for a week, and we're spending quite a pile of dollars trying to hold the hillside up. The signs were all on top," he said. "There are ranges where you can strike it just as sure and easy as falling off a log, but I guess something long ago shook these mountains up, and mixed up all the rock. There's only one man figures he knows how it was done, and he won't talk about it when he's sensible."

"Allonby, of the Dayspring!" said Devine. "Now, the last time we worried about the thing you told me you considered our chances good enough to put your savings in. Would you feel like doing it to-day? I want the information, not the dollars. You know it's generally wisest to be straight with me."