The Magnetic North. Elizabeth Robins
know mighty well who it was. The Boy's all right, but he's young for this kind o' thing—young and heady. There isn't much wrong with me that I'm aware of, except that I don't know shucks. Potts's petering out wasn't altogether a surprise, and nobody expected anything from O'Flynn till we got to Dawson, when a lawyer and a fella with capital behind him may come in handy. But there was one man—who had a head on him, who had experience, and who"—he leaned over to emphasise the climax—"who had character. It was on that man's account that I joined this party."
Mac put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. His face began to look a little more natural. The long sleep or the coffee had cleared his eyes.
"Shall I tell you what I heard about that man last night?" asked the Colonel gravely.
Mac looked up, but never opened his lips.
"You remember you wouldn't sit here—"
"The Boy was always in and out. The cabin was cold."
"I left the Boy and O'Flynn at supper-time and went down to the Little Cabin to—"
"To see what I was doin'—to spy on me."
"Well, all right—maybe I was spying, too. Incidentally I wanted to tell you the cabin was hot as blazes, and get you to come to supper. I met Potts hurrying up for his grub, and I said, 'Where's Mac? Isn't he coming?' and your pardner's answer was: 'Oh, let him alone. He's got a flask in his bunk, swillin' and gruntin'; he's just in hog-heaven.'"
"Damn that sneak!"
"The man he was talkin' about, Mac, was the man we had all built our hopes on."
"I'll teach Potts—"
"You can't, Mac. Potts has got to die and go to heaven—perhaps to hell, before he'll learn any good. But you're a different breed. Teach MacCann."
Mac suddenly sat down on the stool with his head in his hands.
"The Boy hasn't caught on," said the Colonel presently, "but he said something this morning to show he was wondering about the change that's come over you."
"That I don't split wood all day, I suppose, when we've got enough for a month. Potts doesn't either. Why don't you go for Potts?"
"As the Boy said, I don't care about Potts. It's Mac that matters."
"Did the Boy say that?" He looked up.
The Colonel nodded.
"After you had made that chimney, you know, you were a kind of hero in his eyes."
Mac looked away. "The cabin's been cold," he muttered.
"We are going to remedy that."
"I didn't bring any liquor into camp. You must admit that I didn't intend—"
"I do admit it."
"And when O'Flynn said that about keeping his big demijohn out of the inventory and apart from the common stores, I sat on him."
"So you did."
"I knew it was safest to act on the 'medicinal purposes' principle."
"So it is."
"But I wasn't thinking so much of O'Flynn. I was thinking of … things that had happened before … for … I'd had experience. Drink was the curse of Caribou. It's something of a scourge up in Nova Scotia … I'd had experience."
"You did the very best thing possible under the circumstances." Mac was feeling about after his self-respect, and must be helped to get hold of it. "I realise, too, that the temptation is much greater in cold countries," said the Kentuckian unblushingly. "Italians and Greeks don't want fiery drinks half as much as Russians and Scandinavians—haven't the same craving as Nova Scotians and cold-country people generally, I suppose. But that only shows, temperance is of more vital importance in the North."
"That's right! It's not much in my line to shift blame, even when I don't deserve it; but you know so much you might as well know … it wasn't I who opened that demijohn first."
"But you don't mind being the one to shut it up—do you?"
"Shut it up?"
"Yes; let's get it down and—" The Colonel swung it off the shelf. It was nearly empty, and only the Boy's and the Colonel's single bottles stood unbroached. Even so, Mac's prolonged spree was something of a mystery to the Kentuckian. It must be that a very little was too much for Mac. The Colonel handed the demijohn to his companion, and lit the solitary candle standing on its little block of wood, held in place between three half-driven nails.
"What's that for?"
"Don't you want to seal it up?"
"I haven't got any wax."
"I have an inch or so." The Colonel produced out of his pocket the only piece in camp.
Mac picked up a billet of wood, and drove the cork in flush with the neck. Then, placing upright on the cork the helve of the hammer, he drove the cork down a quarter of an inch farther.
"Give me your wax. What's for a seal?" They looked about. Mac's eye fell on a metal button that hung by a thread from the old militia jacket he was wearing. He put his hand up to it, paused, glanced hurriedly at the Colonel, and let his fingers fall.
"Yes, yes," said the Kentuckian, "that'll make a capital seal."
"No; something of yours, I think, Colonel. The top of that tony pencil-case, hey?"
The Colonel produced his gold pencil, watched Mac heat the wax, drop it into the neck of the demijohn, and apply the initialled end of the Colonel's property. While Mac, without any further waste of words, was swinging the wicker-bound temptation up on the shelf again, they heard voices.
"They're coming back," says the Kentuckian hurriedly. "But we've settled our little account, haven't we, old man?"
Mac jerked his head in that automatic fashion that with him meant genial and whole-hearted agreement.
"And if Potts or O'Flynn want to break that seal—"
"I'll call 'em down," says Mac. And the Colonel knew the seal was safe.
"By-the-by, Colonel," said the Boy, just as he was turning in that night, "I—a—I've asked that Jesuit chap to the House-Warming."
"Oh, you did, did you?"
"Yes."
"Well, you'd just better have a talk with Mac about it."
"Yes. I've been tryin' to think how I'd square Mac. Of course, I know I'll have to go easy on the raw."
"I reckon you just will."
"If Monkey-wrench screws down hard on me, you'll come to the rescue, won't you, Colonel?"
"No I'll side with Mac on that subject. Whatever he says, goes!"
"Humph! that Jesuit's all right."
Not a word out of the Colonel.
CHAPTER III
TWO NEW SPISSIMENS
Medwjedew (zu Luka). Tag' mal—wer bist du? Ich kenne dich nicht.
Luka. Kennst du denn sonst alle Leute?
Medwjedew. In meinem Revier muß ich jeden kennen und dich kenn'ich nicht. …
Luka. Das kommt wohl daher Onkelchen, daß dein Revier nicht die ganze Erde umfasst … 's ist da noch ein Endchen draußen geblieben. …
One of the curious results of what is called wild life, is a blessed release from many of the timidities that assail