XXVIII
THE LOG BRIDGE
Lawrence had gone to his room to rest and Lucy Stephen was sitting alone in the veranda when she heard the roar of an east-bound train coming up the valley. It stopped, which did not often happen, and she put down her book and looked out at the opening in the pines that led to the track. The smoke that rose into the clear, cold air began to move, and Lucy frowned, because the train had just stopped long enough for passengers to alight. Although the hotel was generally full in summer, there were then only a few other guests, quiet people whose acquaintance she had made, and she did not wish Lawrence to be disturbed by new arrivals. He was getting better, but not so quickly as she wished. Besides, she had another ground for anxiety.
A man came up the road between the pines. It was a relief to see one man instead of a party, but she went to the glass front and watched him with keen curiosity. He vanished among the trees where the road curved and when he came out not far off she set her lips. It was Walters and her vague fears were realized, but he would not reach the hotel for a few minutes and this gave her time to brace herself.
Ringing a bell, she asked for a telegraph form and hurriedly filling it up, said to the waiting lad, "Take this down to the office."
The lad wore a smart uniform and was called a page, but he had the pertness that generally marks the bellboy in Western hotels.
"Certainly, miss. But I reckon I'll be wanted when the stranger who's coming up the road gets here. Guess it will be all right if I take your message when he's fixed."
Lucy, who scarcely heard, sent the page away. Walters would arrive in a minute or two, and now she had warned Foster she thought she had better not avoid him. If she hid her distrust, she might find out something, and she would sooner he saw her before he met Lawrence. There was nobody else in the veranda just then. Walters came in with a smile that somehow intensified her antagonism, but she waited calmly, although she did not give him her hand.
"It looks as if you were rather surprised to see me," he remarked.
"I am," said Lucy. "Perhaps that's not unnatural!"
He laughed and since she did not suggest his sitting down, remained standing in a rather graceful pose. She meant to hide her real feelings if she could, but as she had been angry when he left it was better that he should think her angry now. A marked change in her attitude would be illogical and might excite suspicion.
"I suppose that means you blame me for Lawrence's illness and haven't forgiven me yet?" he suggested.
"I do blame you. You let the guide get drunk and left Lawrence on the couloir. Then you were a long time coming back, when you knew the danger he was in."
"Well," said Walters in an apologetic tone, "I suppose all this is true, but I must point out that when we slipped down the gully it was impossible to get up again. Then there were some big crevasses in the glacier and I had a half-drunk man to help across; I really didn't know he would drink too much when I gave him the flask. However, although perhaps I was rather careless, I hope you won't forbid my seeing Lawrence."
"I couldn't forbid your seeing him, as you must know."
"You couldn't, in a sense," Walters agreed. "Still, of course, your wishes go a long way with him, and I imagine he is what one might call amenable."
"I don't understand that."
Walters smiled. "I always found Lawrence good-humored and it would surprise me if he did anything you didn't like. I don't know that I can go farther without venturing on an open compliment. But I'm anxious to know how he is."
"He is getting better, but must be kept quiet for some time. But why did you come here?"
"It ought to be obvious," Walters replied in a tone of mild protest. "You blame me for my friend's illness, and though I don't know what I left undone, I am, in a sense, responsible; anyway, I was with him. Well, I found I had to go east, and determined to put off my business for a day or two so I could stop over and see how he is getting on."
"You may see him. But you must remember that he isn't strong and needs quietness."
"I'll be very careful," Walters said with a grateful look. "May I take it that your consent is a sign that you'll try to forgive me for my share in the accident?"
Lucy forced a smile. "We'll see how you keep your promise."
She sat down, feeling rather limp, when he left her. He had, on the surface, taken a very proper line, and his excuse for coming was plausible, but she knew that it was false. The man had meant to leave her lover to freeze among the rocks and was horribly clever. It was hard to preserve her calm when she hated and feared him, and although she thought she had not acted badly, the interview had been trying. Besides, Lawrence was generous and not very discriminating. Walters might find a way of disarming the suspicions Foster had roused.
When the page showed Walters to his room, he said to the lad, "I want somebody to go to the station for my bag. Have they a telegraph office?"
"Yep; I'm going down to send a wire. Office isn't open long. Agent quits as soon as the east-bound freight comes through."
"I suppose the wire's from Miss Stephen?"
The page nodded and Walters gave him twenty-five cents. "Well, if you can wait a little, I'll have a message to send; it will save you a journey."
The boy hesitated; but the money banished his doubts. "All right; you'd better get it written. The freight's nearly due."
Walters went to Lawrence's room before he wrote the telegram, and met Lucy again at dinner. There were only two tables in use in the large dining-room, and the waiter sent him to Mrs. Stephen's. Lucy wondered whether Walters had arranged this with the man beforehand, but it gave her an opportunity of watching him and she did not object. She admitted that he had nerve and tact, for although she feared him and her mother shared her distrust, he was able to banish the constraint both felt and amuse the party. Lucy could not tell what Lawrence thought, but he laughed at the other's stories and now and then bantered him.
After dinner Walters left them and when they went; to Mrs. Stephen's sitting-room Lucy remarked rather sharply: "You seemed to find Walters amusing!"
"He is amusing," Lawrence answered. "In fact, the fellow puzzles me."
"You mean he couldn't talk in that good-humored, witty way if he had plotted to leave you on the couloir?"
"Well," said Lawrence, "I suppose I did feel something of the kind."
"I don't know that it's very logical," Lucy rejoined, hiding her alarm.
"You agreed with Foster's conclusions when he was here."
"I did, to some extent. The way Jake argued out the matter made things look pretty bad."
"But they look better now? Walters was talking to you in your room?"
"He didn't say much about our climb; just a word or two of regret for his carelessness in not seeing what had happened to the guide."
"Words that were very carefully chosen, no doubt!"
"Well," said Lawrence, "I'm frankly puzzled; the more I think about our adventure, the harder it is to decide how much one could hold Walters accountable for. It was difficult to throw me up the rope without slipping, and there was only a small, projecting rock, on which he might have broken his bones, to prevent his tobogganing to the bottom. If he had slid past it, he would have been killed."
"Walters wouldn't hesitate about a risk. It might have looked like an accident if you hadn't heard Foster's story."
Lawrence knitted his brows, rather impatiently. "After all, Jake's a romantic fellow, and his explanation's theatrical."
"You don't like theatrical things," Mrs. Stephen interposed. "You must admit that they happen, but you feel it's ridiculous that they should happen to you."
"I imagine I do feel that," Lawrence agreed with a smile. "When they happen to somebody else they're not so unnatural."
Lucy tried to preserve her self-control, but her tone was sharp as she said, "Then you feel inclined to forgive Walters the pain and illness he caused you."
"It would be harder to forgive him your anxiety," Lawrence rejoined, and his face set hard. "In fact, if I knew he really had plotted the thing———" He paused and resumed: "One would be justified in killing a brute who could do what you imagine, but there's a difference between hating a crime and punishing the man accused of it before you have proved his guilt. In the meantime, I'm trying to keep an open mind."
"But you will be careful and not trust him far," Lucy urged.
"I'll run no risks; I've some ground for being cautious."
Lucy said no more. Lawrence was not well yet and sometimes got obstinate if one argued with him. She thought he would be prudent, but it was comforting to remember that she had telegraphed for his comrade. Unfortunately, she did not know that her message was then in the page's pocket. He had waited some time for Walters' telegram, and when he reached the station found the agent gone. In consequence, fearing a reprimand, he resolved to send the messages in the morning and say nothing about the matter.
The next day was clear and calm, with bright sunshine on the snow, and Mrs. Stephen agreed when Lawrence insisted on going for a short walk with her and some of the guests. Walters joined the party, although Lucy tried to leave him behind, and they leisurely climbed a winding path among the pines. The snow was thin and crisp beneath the trees, the air exhilarating, and through openings they caught glimpses of fissured glaciers, rocks that glistened in the steely light, and majestic glittering peaks. The pines were straight and tall, and the great soft-colored trunks rose in long climbing ranks against the blue shadow on the snow.
They stopped for a few minutes at the foot of a crag, and then Lawrence, who had been sitting rather slackly on a log, got up with a shiver.
"The air's keen," he said. "Can't we go back another way where we'll get the sun?"
One of the party said there was a lower and more open trail, and they went down until they reached a narrow track that followed the edge of a steep fall to the river. The hillside above made a sharp angle with the pines that cut, in scattered cones of somber green, against the long, glittering slope. Below, the ground dropped nearly sheer to the green flood that roared among the ice. Although the trail was safe enough, Lucy kept close to Lawrence and was glad to see Walters talking to one of the others some distance behind. She felt jaded, for she had not relaxed her watchfulness since the man arrived. By and by Lawrence gave her a grateful smile.
"You look tired; I expect I'm something of a responsibility. If you like, I'll make an excuse for stopping in until Walters goes."
"No," she said with an effort, "that would be cowardly and not good for you. After all, I may be giving my imagination rein; but I wish he hadn't come."
"He won't be here long. Anyhow, we'll keep out of his way as much as we can for the rest of the time."
"That's a relief. Still, I expect you really think you are indulging me."
"I don't know what to think," Lawrence replied. "You're clever, and
Jake, who takes your view, is not a fool. But it doesn't look as if
Walters meant to do me much harm."
"He can't, so long as you don't give him an opportunity."
Lawrence's eyes twinkled. "And you'll take care that I don't? Well, it's rather nice to be protected."
Lucy blushed. "If you would take things seriously sometimes——"
"If I did, you'd find me dull. Now I like you exactly as you are, except that, in one way, I'd sooner you were not so anxious about me. That's partly why I'm not so serious as you expect I'm afraid you'd get worse if I played up to you."
"Never mind me," said Lucy. "Only take care!"
By and by the slope grew gentler, and tall forest crept up the hill when they came to a ravine a torrent had worn out of the mountain side. The ravine was narrow and for a short distance below the top the banks shelved steeply; then a wall of rock fell straight to the water that brawled in the bottom of the deep gap. The light was dim down there, but one could see livid flashes of foam through a haze of spray. The trail had been made by lumbermen or prospectors, who had provided a bridge by chopping a big fir so that it fell across the chasm. Somebody had made the passage easier by roughly squaring its upper surface, though it is seldom a Canadian bushman takes this precaution with his primitive bridge. There was no reason anybody with normal nerve should hesitate to cross, but the party stopped.
"You have gone farther than usual to-day, Featherstone, and perhaps you'd sooner cut out the bridge," said one. "I think we could get round the head of the canon without lengthening the distance much."
Lawrence smiled. "My object is to keep on going farther than I did before, and I don't see why the log should bother me. It's my legs that are weak—not my head."
"Very well," said the other. "I'll go first and Miss Chisholm will come next."
"Am I to be encouraged or shamed into crossing?" Lawrence asked with a laugh.
He let them go, and Lucy did not object. Lawrence was not well yet, but she had seen him climb among the crevasses and knew his steadiness. Then, although she did not know how much this counted, she was proud of his courage and forgot that physical weakness sometimes affects one's nerve. Walters could not harm him, because he was not near enough.
When the first two had gone over, Lawrence walked out upon the log. Lucy was not afraid, but she watched and remarked that he seemed unusually careful. After a few paces, he moved slowly, and when near the middle stopped. She saw him clench his hands as he tried to brace himself.
"Go on, Lawrence," she said, as quietly as she could.
He moved another pace or two uncertainly, and then stopped again, and Lucy struggled with her terror as she tried to think. If he were well, it would not be difficult to turn and come back, or sit upon the log, but either would be dangerous if his nerve had gone. She had failed to rouse him and durst not try again. If he slipped or stumbled, he would plunge into the canon. It was horrible to reflect that she had allowed him to make the venture. Then, throwing off the numbing fear, she sprang to her feet.
"Stand quite still; I'm coming to help you," she said in a strained voice and went towards the log.
Next moment she was seized from behind, and Walters ran past. She struggled fiercely, biting her lips as she stopped the scream that might startle her lover, and heard the man who held her breathing hard. But he held her firmly and she stopped struggling, with a paralyzing horror that made her muscles limp. Still, she could see and think, and the scene fixed itself upon her brain like a photograph; long afterwards she could remember each minute detail.
The log occupied the foreground of the picture, running boldly across the gap in the pines, with a shadowy gulf beneath. Near the middle, Lawrence stood slackly, with his back to her, and behind him Walters walked across the trunk. His step was firm and agile, his figure well-proportioned and athletic, and it was somehow obvious that he relished the opportunity of showing his powers. Afterwards, she hated him for his vanity.
It was plain that little physical help could be given. All that was possible was moral support; a firm, guiding grasp that would restore the shaken man's confidence, and the comfort of feeling there was somebody near who was not afraid. But a very slight push the wrong way, or even an unsteadiness in the hand that should have guided, might be fatal. Lawrence was at the mercy of a man who had plotted to destroy him and could do so now without risk. Lucy could not warn him, because if he were startled, he would fall. Waiting in an agony of suspense, she saw Walters grasp his shoulder.
"Steady, partner; we'll soon be across," he said in a quiet, reassuring voice, and Lawrence's slack pose stiffened, as if he had gathered confidence.
Lucy thought he did not know who had spoken, but the horrible tension did not slacken yet, though Lawrence began to move forward. Walters came close behind, rather guiding than supporting him, and in a few moments they stepped down on the other side. Then Lucy gasped and logs and pines got blurred and indistinct. She conquered the faintness and went resolutely towards the log.
"Wait and let me help you," somebody said.
"No," she answered in a strained voice; "I'm quite steady."
She crossed the log without a tremor and running to where Lawrence sat put her arm round him. Lawrence said nothing, but took and held her hand.