Northwest!. Harold Bindloss
far's the hotel?"
"If you go by the trail, about eight miles. Perhaps four miles, if you cross the range."
Jimmy studied the thick timber and the steep rocky slopes. Pushing through tangled underbrush has drawbacks, particularly where devil's-club thorns are numerous. Besides, he had got a nasty knock and his leg began to hurt. Then he noted a cotton flour bag with straps attached lying in the trail.
"I think I won't cross the range. I suppose that bag is yours?"
"It is mine. They put our groceries off the train. I reckon the bag weighs about forty pounds. I carried the thing on the front of the saddle; but when you——"
Jimmy nodded. "When I butted in you were forced to let it go! Well, since I frightened your horse, I ought to carry your bag. If I take it to the ranch, do you think your folks would give me supper?"
"It's possible. Can you carry the bag?"
"I'll try," said Jimmy. "Have you some grounds to doubt?"
"Packing a load over a rough trail is not as easy as it looks," the girl rejoined with a twinkle. "Then I expect you're a tourist tenderfoot."
Jimmy liked her smile and he liked her voice. Her Western accent was not marked and her glance was frank. He thought, if he had not meddled, she would have mastered the frightened horse; her strength and pluck were obvious. In the meantime his leg hurt and he could not examine the injury.
"I am a tourist," he agreed. "Since I'm going to your house, perhaps I ought to state that I'm Jimmy Leyland, from Lancashire in the Old Country."
"I am Margaret Jardine."
"Then you're a Scot?"
"My father is a Scot," said Margaret. "I'm Canadian."
"Ah," said Jimmy, "I've heard something like that before and begin to see what it implies. Well, it looks as if you were an independent lot. Is one allowed to state that in the Old Country we are rather proud of you?"
"Since I'd like to make Kelshope before dark, perhaps you had better get going," Margaret remarked.
Jimmy picked up the bag and fastened the deerskin straps, by which it hung from his shoulders like a rucksack. They started, and for a time he kept up with Margaret, but he did not talk. The pack was heavy, he had not had much breakfast and had gone without his lunch. Besides, his leg was getting very sore. At length he stopped and began to loose the straps.
"Do you mind if I take a smoke?" he asked.
Margaret looked at him rather hard, but said she did not mind, and Jimmy, indicating a cedar log, pulled out his cigarette case.
"Do you smoke?"
"I do not. In the bush, we haven't yet copied the girls at the hotels."
"Now I think about it, the girls who smoked at the Montreal hotel were not numerous," Jimmy remarked. "When I went to the fishing lodge in Scotland, all smoked, but then Stannard's friends are very much up-to-date. The strange thing is, we're thought antiquated in the Old Country——"
He stopped and tried to brace up. What he wanted to state eluded him. He felt cold and the pines across the trail got indistinct.
"You see, in some of our circles we rather feel our duty is to be modern," he resumed with an effort. "I think you're not like that. Canada's a new country, but, in a way, one feels you're really older than we are. We have got artificial; you are flesh and blood——"
"Don't talk!" said Margaret firmly, but Jimmy thought her voice was faint, and for a few moments the tall pines melted altogether.
When he looked up Margaret asked: "Have you got a tobacco pouch?"
Jimmy gave her the pouch and she went off. He was puzzled and rather annoyed, but somehow he could not get on his feet. By and by Margaret came back, carrying the pouch opened like a double cup. Jimmy drank some water and the numbness began to go.
"You're very kind. I expect I'm ridiculous," he said.
"I was not kind. I let you carry the pack, although the cayuse knocked you down."
"Perhaps the knock accounts for something," Jimmy remarked in a languid voice.
He had got a nasty knock, but he imagined Stannard's cigars and Deering's iced drinks were really accountable. In the meantime, he noted that Margaret was wiping his tobacco pouch.
"You mustn't bother," he resumed. "Give me the thing."
"But when it's wet you cannot put in the tobacco."
"I thought you threw away the stuff. I can get another lot at the hotel."
Margaret brushed the tobacco from a flake of bark, and filled the pouch.
"In the woods, one doesn't throw away expensive tobacco."
"Thanks!" said Jimmy. "Some time since, I lived with people like you."
"Poor and frugal people?"
"No," said Jimmy, with a twinkle. "Dick and his wife were rather rich. In fact, in England, I think you begin to use economy when you get rich. Anyhow, it's not important, and you needn't bother about me. As a rule, philosophizing doesn't knock me out. The cayuse kicked pretty hard. Well, suppose we start?"
He got up and when Margaret tried to take the pack he pulled it away.
"The job's mine. I undertook to carry the load."
"But you're tired, and I think you're lame."
"We won't dispute," said Jimmy. "You oughtn't to dispute. Perhaps it's strange, but one feels your word ought to go."
"It looks as if my word did not go."
"Oh, well," said Jimmy, "when you command people, you have got to use some caution. Much depends on whom you command, and in Lancashire we're an obstinate lot. Anyhow, I'll take the bag."
He pushed his arms through the straps and Margaret said nothing. She might have taken the bag from him, but to use force was not dignified and she knew to let her carry the load would jar. When they set off she noted that his face was rather white and his step was not even. He had obviously got a nasty kick, but his pluck was good.
The sun went down behind the woods, the pines got dim and sweet resinous scents floated about the trail. The hum of insects came out of the shadow, and Jimmy was forced to rub the mosquitoes from his neck. To put up his hands was awkward, for the ground was uneven, and he must balance his load. He could not talk, the important thing was to reach the ranch before it got dark, and setting his mouth, he pushed ahead.
At length Margaret stopped at a fence, and when she began to pull down the rails Jimmy leaned against a post. The rails were rudely split, and the zig-zag fence was locked by crossed supports and not fastened by nails. On the other side, where timothy grass and oats had grown, was stubble, dotted by tall stumps and fern. A belt of chopped trees surrounded the clearing, and behind the tangled belt the forest rose like a dark wall. An indistinct log house and barns occupied the other end. An owl swooped noiselessly across the fence, and Jimmy heard the distant howl of a timber wolf.
"Kelshope ranch," said Margaret. "The path goes to the house. I must put up the rails."
Jimmy went through the gap. Perhaps it was soothing quietness, but he felt he liked Kelshope and his curiosity was excited. He knew the big Canadian hotels, the pullmans and observation-cars. So far, money had supplied him, as in London, with much that made life smooth. Now he was to see something of the Canada in which man must labor for all he gets. The strange thing was, he felt this was the Canada he really ought to know.
IV
KELSHOPE RANCH
Breakfast