For the Allinson Honor

CHAPTER XIII

LOVE'S ENCOURAGEMENT

It was after dinner and Wannop, lounging comfortably over his cigar in Frobisher's smoking-room, smiled at Andrew, who sat opposite.

"This is a very nice house and I like your friend," he commented. "It's lucky he invited us, because I don't know how they'd have put us up at the hotel."

"What brought you over with Leonard?" Andrew asked bluntly.

"Gertrude wanted to make some visits this winter, which set me free. I've never been much away from home, and it struck me as a good chance for seeing Canada; then Jack Cartwright – you may remember him – is in Toronto. It's twelve years since I've met him, though he has often urged me to come over; and there's another man I know in Winnipeg."

"I wonder whether that was all?"

Wannop looked amused. He was stout and clumsy, but he had his jovial air.

"You seem to have been getting smarter since you came to Canada," he said. "Perhaps I'd better admit that I was anxious to see how you were getting on."

"Didn't Leonard tell you?"

"Leonard was as guarded and diplomatic as usual. He informed us that there had been some trouble at the mine and he was afraid you hadn't experience enough to deal with the situation. Then he gave us the impression that you were inclined to be rash and might make a mess of things unless he came over and put you right."

"Ah!" exclaimed Andrew; "I expected something of the sort."

They looked at each other with mutual comprehension.

"Can matters be straightened out?" Wannop asked.

"Not in the few days that Leonard intends to devote to it. It's most unlikely that the Rain Bluff will ever pay."

"I'm sorry to hear it. A good deal of my money and Gertrude's has gone into the mine."

"You needn't be alarmed. I don't think the shareholders will suffer."

Andrew's tone was impressive, and Wannop looked at him sharply.

"That doesn't seem to agree with your last remark."

"I've a plan for working a richer lode, but I can't tell you anything further, because the secret belongs to another man until the minerals have been recorded; and it wouldn't be fair to Leonard and the directors, who haven't been consulted about the project yet. When my plans are ready, they will be disclosed. Perhaps I'm straining your confidence."

"It will stand some strain. But are you sure that Leonard will be fair to you?"

"That is another matter," Andrew said quietly.

"Well, I'm glad you have told me something: it gives me a lead. It was obvious that you and Leonard were at variance. In fact, I've foreseen a split for some time, and if a side must be taken, I'd rather stand by you."

"Thanks! But it may get you into trouble."

Wannop lighted another cigar and then looked up with a chuckle.

"We're neither of us sentimentalists, but there's something to be said. You and I have always got on well, and when I married Gertrude you didn't lay such stress on the favor shown me in being allowed to enter the family as your estimable relatives did. Then we're the two whose abilities aren't held in much esteem, which is some reason why we should stick together. With all respect for the others, I sometimes think they're wrong."

Andrew laughed.

"We'll come to business," Wannop went on. "While the Rain Bluff shares were well taken up by outside investors, a good many are held by the family; these count as a compact block, a strong voting power – though it's remarkable that Leonard holds less than any of the rest of us. So if there's to be a fight between you and him, it will begin among your relatives; their opinion is more important than that of the general shareholders."

"Yes," assented Andrew, "Leonard would be powerful if backed by the solid family vote."

"The point is that he may not get it. Anyhow, Gertrude and I will support you, and we hold a good deal of stock between us."

"Thanks!" said Andrew. "Still, it may not come to a struggle of that kind, after all. It must be avoided if possible."

Then Frobisher came in and interrupted them.

Leonard spent a week with Frobisher, driving across to the Landing each morning on business. He and Andrew now and then discussed the Company's affairs without open disagreement. His attitude toward Andrew was friendly, but marked by a tone of good-humored forbearance, and when he spoke of him to Frobisher it was with a trace of amusement, as if Andrew were erratic and needed judicious guidance. It was done cleverly, for Leonard carefully avoided detraction, but his remarks conveyed the impression that Andrew was something of a simpleton.

"If Allinson hasn't much judgment, why did you send him over to look after the mine?" Frobisher once asked him bluntly.

Leonard smiled at this.

"We didn't give him much responsibility; to tell the truth, we wanted to get him away for a while. There was a young grass-widow that it seemed possible he might make a fool of himself about. Rather a dangerous woman, I believe, and Andrew's confiding."

When his guests had returned to the Landing, Frobisher remarked to his daughter:

"Mr. Hathersage doesn't seem to think much of his brother-in-law."

"So it seems," said Geraldine, with an angry sparkle in her eyes. "He never missed an opportunity for cunningly disparaging him."

"Then you don't agree with his opinion?"

"I don't know that it was his real opinion," Geraldine replied. "I wouldn't trust the man." She paused and asked sharply: "Would you?"

"If I had to choose, I think I'd rather put my confidence in Allinson."

He looked thoughtful when his daughter left him, for he had not spoken to her without an object, and her indignation had its significance. On the whole, however, Frobisher saw no cause for uneasiness. He liked Andrew, and though Leonard's explanation might have had a deterrent effect, he disbelieved it.

Before returning to England, Leonard had an interview with Mappin at the hotel.

"Do you know anything of the lode Allinson talks about?" he asked him.

"Nothing except that it lies up in the northern barrens, a mighty rough country, and that people think it's a delusion of the man who claims to have discovered it. But didn't your brother-in-law talk it over with you, if he's interested in the thing?"

"He did not. I may as well admit that there are points upon which his views don't agree with mine."

"So I imagined," Mappin remarked pointedly.

"He's in favor of closing the Rain Bluff. If that were done, it would, of course, cost you your contract."

Mappin looked thoughtful. Leonard had already sketched out a plan by which the notice Andrew had given Mappin might be rendered of no effect.

"Well," he said, "I'd much rather keep it; but we had better be frank. You would prefer that Allinson didn't find the lode?"

"I don't want him to waste the Company's time and money on a journey into the wilds, and expensive prospecting work which will probably lead to nothing. It would be wiser to keep the Rain Bluff going and get out as much ore as possible. I needn't point out that this would be more to your interest."

"That's so," chuckled Mappin. "I begin to see. I'm to make all the difficulties I can for Allinson?"

Leonard hesitated. He was asked to give his confederate dangerous powers, but he thought the safety of his position required it. There did not seem to be much likelihood of Andrew's discovering valuable minerals, but he might perhaps find somewhat better ore than the Rain Bluff was turning out, and with a practical scheme for working it gain support enough to embarrass the directors. If, however, Andrew failed in his search, it would be easier to discredit him, and the demand he would no doubt make for the abandoning of the mine could be withstood.

"I think that's what I meant," he said. "You are in charge of our transport and I expect he'll need a quantity of food and prospecting tools sent up into the bush. I can leave you to work out details."

Mappin's eyes flashed.

"I guess I can fix it; let it go at that. Now there's another matter I want to mention."

Leonard acquiesced in the change of subject, feeling that he had done all that was possible to counteract Andrew's projects. He left with the Montreal express the next morning.

Two days later Mappin was summoned to Andrew's room at the hotel and found him studying a list of provisions.

"We shall get off in the next few days," he said. "I want you to send these supplies up to the mine, where we'll call for them."

"What about the rest of your truck?" Mappin inquired.

"Carnally has sent it off already."

Mappin saw that he could not do as much as he had expected to delay the party.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Yes," said Andrew. "As we can't transport stores enough for the whole march, provisions will have to be cached for use on our return. Do you know where Whitefish Creek is?"

"It's a very long way up and said not to be indicated very correctly on the map. Two forks, aren't there?"

Andrew nodded.

"A lake lies about two days' march up the east branch, and there's an island in it with a sandy tongue at one end. Take this list of provisions and have a cache made there. Get them up in a month from now. You can do that?"

"Oh, yes; I've some smart packers."

"Then here's another list. To get to the Whitefish you cross the height of land and there's a low neck in the middle of the long ridge. I want another cache made at the bottom of the gap. You understand that? It's important."

"I'll make a careful note of it," Mappin promised. "Your idea is to travel with light loads, and replenish your stores at the caches as you come back?"

"Precisely. Carnally and Graham have been calculating our supplies closely and we shall not have much left when we reach the first cache. You had better put a barked fir-pole on the top of it; there are trees about."

"The boys I'll send up will see to it," said Mappin, and after a few questions took his leave.

A day or two later Andrew walked across the ice in the evening to see the Frobishers before he started on his journey, and when he had spent some time with them Geraldine went down with him to the hall. They were alone, for her father was searching for a compass he wished to give Andrew. Geraldine stopped when she reached the foot of the stairs and stood with her hand on the balustrade. Her unstudied pose was graceful, she made a very attractive picture, and though she saw Andrew's admiration she was not displeased. It was different from that which Mappin had bestowed on her.

"I think you are doing a very fine thing," she said diffidently. "You see, I know something, besides what you have told me, about the mine and Allinson's. Ethel Hillyard wrote to me not long ago – I knew her in England – and she said several nice things about you."

"Did she?" said Andrew, with some embarrassment. "Ethel's a good friend. But it's rather trying to have things said about you."

"Now you're curious," Geraldine replied, "and I'll be indiscreet enough to mention one. She said you were always sincere, and to be relied on." She paused a moment and added: "I think that's true; your going to search for the lode proves it."

Andrew looked at her steadily, his heart throbbing.

"Would you be surprised to hear that you are largely responsible for the search?"

"I! What could I have to do with it?"

"I'll try to explain. There was a time when I was half afraid to go on with my plans; I could see nothing but trouble ahead. Then one day when you were speaking of Carnally you said something about doing the square thing. That and the song you sang one evening soon afterward decided me."

"Then I'm afraid I've been very rash; it's a responsibility I should not have assumed. After all, I know nothing about the difficulties you may meet with."

"And I know very little, except that they'll certainly be plentiful. Ignorance is a heavy handicap, and it doesn't make things better when it's your own fault. Still, whether you meant it or not, you showed me that there was only one course open – to go straight ahead and leave the rest to Fate."

His words awoke a responsive thrill in Geraldine, for she knew his worth. There was courage in him and sterling honesty; he was entering on a hard fight for the sake of people unknown to him who had trusted to the honor of his house. He would, she believed, be opposed by clever trickery, prejudice and strong commercial interests, but if the world were ruled by right, as she tried to believe, it was unthinkable that he should be beaten.

"Well," she said, with the color in her face and sympathy in her eyes, "I wish you good luck. But be careful up there among the rocks and muskegs. Don't run too many risks. Come back safe."

"Thank you! It would be something to you if we kept out of trouble?"

His gaze was steadily searching and for a moment she turned her head. Then, though there was a slight change in her manner, she looked around with a smile.

"Yes, of course," she answered. "I shall be anxious while you are away and eager for news."

Andrew saw that there was nothing more to be said, and he was glad that Frobisher came down the stairs with the compass in his hand.

"It's one of the cutest things of the kind I've seen," said the American. "There's very little oscillation, the card can't come unshipped, and you can take a bearing correctly with the sights on this sliding ring."

When Andrew had thanked him for the gift, he left the house. It was a still night and bitterly cold, but he walked back across the ice to the Landing with a glow at his heart.

CHAPTER XIV

TREACHERY

The afternoon was nearly over and the frost intense when Andrew plodded up the frozen river with Carnally and Graham. The snow crunched with a squeaking sound beneath their moccasins, which Andrew had had specially made because ordinary boots are not adapted to the extreme cold of the North. On their western hand the pines stood out sharp and black against a coppery glare, and as they passed the wider openings the light struck dazzlingly into their aching eyes. Ahead the white riband of river led into a wilderness of rocks and stunted trees, but there was no sign of life in all the picture, and everything was very still.

The men were not heavily loaded, for most of their supplies had been sent on to the mine, but Andrew had found his pack a bad enough handicap on the long march up-river and had noticed with some concern that Graham seemed to feel the weight more than he did. The old man had lagged behind, but he now came up breathless.

"You want to get a move on," Carnally advised. "It's 'most six miles yet to Rain Bluff and I'm feeling ready for my supper."

"So am I," said Graham; "but it was too cold to rest by the greenwood fire when we nooned, and I'm not so young as you are. Then it is remarkable how twenty years of domestic life soften one."

"Sure!" grinned Carnally. "You don't find the man who gets his dinner every day leading in a long, hard march. That was Allinson's trouble when he first took the trail with me."

"There may be disadvantages in having regular meals, but I know from painful experience what an ache in the side you get when forced to go without," Andrew returned. "It's one of the things I've learned in Canada."

"You'll learn a few more of the same kind before you're through," Carnally drawled. "But how do you like your moccasins?"

"They're comfortable; the American shoe people have made them well; but I'm not sure they'll last the journey through. It's lucky we have some spare pairs among the provisions Mappin has sent up."

"It might have been better if we'd hired two or three boys at the Landing and packed the truck up along with us," Carnally remarked.

"Mappin engaged to forward the things. It's his business."

Carnally looked unconvinced.

"I never deal with a man who's not straight if I can help it. You can't tell when he may go back on you, unless you can fix it so that his interest is the same as yours; and you and Mappin don't agree."

"That's a fact," Andrew admitted. "However, we'll soon find out about the provisions."

He forced the pace, but it slackened again. He was tired; the red glare, which grew more lurid, hurt his eyes, and he was thankful when it suddenly faded, leaving the wilderness wrapped in soft blue shadow. The pack-straps galled his shoulders, his fur-cap was thick with rime, and its fringe of frosted hair stung his forehead. They came to a narrow reach where the stream ran fast and the ice was thrown up in ragged hummocks. It was difficult to pick their way in the dim light; they slipped and stumbled, breaking through the treacherous snow bridges between the blocks; and when they came out upon a better surface it was dark. Shadowy firs rose about them; here and there an ice-crusted rock showed above the gray level of the stream. Except for their soft footsteps there was a deathly silence. Graham was now some distance behind them, and after a while he made protest.

"Hold on!" he cried. "I'm not toughened up to your mark yet."

Andrew was glad to wait for him, though the frost bit keenly when he stopped and he was anxious to finish the long day's march. The ranks of stunted pines looked inexpressibly dreary looming out of the darkness, and, fatigued as he was, the savagery of the surrounding desolation oppressed him. They would reach warmth and shelter in another hour, but when they went on again Andrew thought with a heavy heart of the leagues of travel through the grim solitudes of the frozen North. Up there, their only resting-place would be a hollow behind a rock or a trench scooped out of the snow. Still, he was not daunted. He had undertaken a big thing, and he meant to carry it out.

At last a twinkle of light showed among the trees, and when they approached one of the shacks at the mine the door opened and a dark figure appeared against the brightness of the interior.

"Is that you, Watson?" Andrew asked. "Has Mappin sent up some provisions for us?"

"Nothing has turned up lately except some tools," Watson answered. "But come right in."

They entered the shack, which for the first few minutes felt intolerably hot.

"Did those tools come in cases with a Toronto freight tag?" Carnally asked.

"They did," said Watson.

Carnally looked at Andrew.

"That's what misled me. I found out the cases had left the Landing and thought they held our truck. What I wasn't sure about was whether they'd reach here."

"The provisions haven't come, and a day or two's rest will do us good," Andrew replied. "I suppose the fellow will send some explanation."

"That's certain. He won't want you to go down and look him up; you'll get word from him before long. Whether you'll get your provisions or not is another matter."

"Let it drop," Andrew advised; and soon afterward they sat down to supper. In an hour or two they were all asleep; but the next day passed before they heard anything about the missing supplies. They were sitting round the stove in the evening when Watson came in with a letter.

"One of Mappin's boys has brought you this," he said.

Andrew opened it and looked up with a frown.

"No answer. Let him go back when he likes."

When Watson left them he turned to the others.

"Mappin regrets to say that our stores have been lost in transit, and though he is trying to trace them, there may be some delay. He thinks I would like to know this at once – which looks like ironical wit. If needful, he will order a duplicate lot."

"Is it worth while to go down and see him?" Graham asked.

"I'd enjoy it," said Andrew grimly. "However, now that we have come so far, we can't waste time in going back, and I've no doubt it would be a week or two before I could get the goods. We'll have to do without them, which is unfortunate."

His anger was justified. Travel in the North, where food is scarce, is a question of transport. As the traveler must take all he needs with him, his supplies must be carefully regulated in accordance with the distance and his power of carrying them, while an error in his calculations may result in starvation. Knowing this, Carnally and Graham had considered how the weight could be cut down by the use of certain condensed foods, as well as clothing and camp equipment made to combine the greatest warmth with lightness. The goods were expensive, but their value could hardly be reckoned in money.

"Then we had better push on at once," Graham suggested. "We have the things Carnally sent up and we ought to get some provisions at the Hudson Bay factory, where I expect to hire the sledge dogs. It will add to our loads and shorten our stay, but we'll have to put up with that."

"You should have cut Mappin right out of this business," Carnally said to Andrew. "His first trick hasn't stopped us, but I feel uneasy about leaving him to handle the food we'll need when coming down."

Andrew looked grave.