A RELIABLE MAN
The sun had just dipped behind a black ridge of hills, and the lake lay still, mirroring the tall cedars on its farther shore. A faint chill was creeping into the mountain air, which was scented with resinous smoke, and somewhere across the water a loon was calling. A cluster of tents stood upon the shingle, and in front of the largest Millicent reclined in a camp-chair. Near her Miss Hume sat industriously embroidering; and Nasmyth lay upon the stones. Bella occupied another camp-chair, a young man with a pleasant brown face sitting at her feet; and farther along the beach a group of packers in blue shirts and duck trousers lay smoking about a fire. By and by one rose and when he began to hack at a drift-log the sharp thudding of his ax startled the loon which departed with a peal of shrieking laughter.
The party had reached the fringe of the wilderness after a long stage journey from the railroad through a rugged country. They had met with no mishaps beyond a delay in the transport of some of their baggage, and everything had been made comparatively easy for them; but they knew that henceforward there might be a difference. Man must depend largely upon his own natural resources in the wilds, where, after furnishing the traveler with the best equipment and packers to carry it, the power of wealth is strictly limited. A recognition of the fact hovered more or less darkly in all their minds, but Millicent was the first to hint at it.
“So far we have had absolutely nothing to complain of except a little jolting in the stage,” she said. “I’m beginning to understand why adventurous sight-seers are coming out here—it’s a glorious country!”
“It’s my duty to point out that it won’t be quite the same as we go on,” Nasmyth remarked. “What do you say, Carew?”
“It doesn’t matter; he’s said it all before,” Bella broke in. “I’ve had to listen to appalling accounts of his previous adventures in Canada, which were, no doubt, meant to deter me; but the reality is that the hotels at Banff and Glacier are remarkably comfortable, and I haven’t the least fault to find with this camp. We ought to be grateful to Millicent for letting us come, and though Arthur hinted that it would be a rather sociable honeymoon, I said that was a safeguard. One’s illusions might get sooner shattered in a more conventional one.” She stooped and ruffled her husband’s hair. “Still, he hasn’t deteriorated very much on closer acquaintance, and perhaps I’m fortunate in this.”
Millicent sat silent for a few moments. She knew, to her sorrow, one man who did not improve the more one saw of him, and that was the man she had tacitly agreed to marry. She could not tell why she had done so—she had somehow drifted into it. Interest, family associations, a feeling that could best be described as liking, even pity, had played their part in influencing her, and now she realized that she could not honorably draw back when he formally claimed her. She laughed as one of the packers who had a good voice broke into a song.
“That’s the climax; it needs only the cockney accent to make the thing complete,” she said. “When I was last in London, one heard that silly jingle everywhere. I suppose it’s a triumph of the music-halls.”
“Or of modern civilization—a rendering of distance of no account,” suggested Carew. “There’s a good deal to be said for the latter achievement, as we are discovering.”
“Distance,” declared Bella, “still counts for something here. I’ve been thinking about Jim all day; imagining him dragging his canoe through the timber beyond those hills, and wondering whether he’d find us when he got to the other side.”
“She has been doing more,” her husband broke in. “Though she hasn’t confessed it, she has been looking out for him ever since this morning. In fact, I discovered that our cook is keeping a supper ready that would satisfy four or five men.”
Bella turned to Millicent with a smile.
“Do you think the meal will be wasted?” she asked.
“No; I can hardly believe it.”
“Mark the assurance of that answer,” commented Carew. “A man couldn’t feel it; it’s irrational. Miss Gladwyne speaks with a certainty that our guide will come, though she has nothing to base her calculations on—she doesn’t know the distance or the difficulties of the way.”
“What does that matter?” Bella retorted. “She knows the man.”
Carew made a grimace.
“A woman’s reasoning. As we’ve nothing better to do, I’ll try to show the absurdity of it. A man, so far as he concerns this discussion, consists of a certain quantity of bones, with muscles and tendons capable of setting them in motion—”
“Be careful,” Bella warned him. “It’s safer to avoid these details. Besides, you’re leaving something out; I don’t mean the nerve-cells, but the inner personality, whatever it is, that commands them.”
“I’m trying to show that, as a mechanical structure, he is capable of moving his own weight and so much extra a limited distance in a given time, so long as he can secure the necessary food and sleep. Neither the weight nor the distance can be increased except by an effort which, if continued, will soon reduce them below their former level.”
Bella laughed.
“Yes,” she said, “that’s how you reason—mechanically. We’re different.”
“I’ll take quite another line,” Nasmyth interposed. “Lisle’s traversing a country new to him; he can’t tell what rapids, ranges, or thick timber may cause delay. No amount of determination will enable one, for instance, to knock more than a few minutes off the time needed to carry a canoe round a portage, nor by any effort can one cross a range as quickly as one can walk up a valley. Isn’t that clear, Millicent?”
There was a smile in the girl’s eyes.
“Yes,” she replied, “but, all the same, Lisle’s supper’s waiting.”
“Such confidence makes one jealous,” grumbled Carew. “Lisle, whom I haven’t met, is evidently a man who keeps his promise. That means a good deal.”
“A very great deal,” Bella assured him. “Since one’s bound to meet with difficulties one can’t foresee, it proves that one man has resource, resolution, and many other eminently useful qualities; but all this is getting too serious. I’d better point out that Lisle hasn’t even promised to meet us here at any particular time.” She paused and laughed mischievously. “Millicent merely sent for him, mentioning to-morrow as the day she would like to start.”
A little color crept into Millicent’s face, but Bella went on:
“She called and I haven’t the least doubt that our guide set out, over ranges, up rapids, across wide lakes. One can’t imagine that man taking it easily, and there’s the obvious fact that Jim will have to keep up with him. He will find it hard, but I dare say it will do him good.”
Nasmyth laughed and strolled away with Carew. The sunset green grew dimmer behind the hills and a pale half-moon appeared above the shadowy woods. It was very still, except for the lapping of the water upon the stones.
Bella leaned back lazily in her chair.
“This is delightful,” she exclaimed. “Didn’t Clarence want to come?”
The unexpectedness of the question startled Millicent into answering:
“He didn’t know.”
“Ah! Then you didn’t tell him? Why didn’t you?”
It was difficult to reply, but there was something in Bella’s voice that disarmed Millicent’s resentment. Bella had grown gentler since her marriage and less often indulged in bitterness.
“I think,” said Millicent, “I didn’t want any one to distract me; I’m going to make photographs and sketches for the book, you know.”
“But you let us come!”
“Yes,” assented Millicent; “you’re different.”
“That’s true. We won’t disturb you; and Nasmyth wouldn’t count. He’s an unobtrusive person, only to the front when he is wanted, which is a good deal to say for him; he doesn’t expect anything. No doubt, the same applies to Lisle.”
Millicent made no answer and Bella wondered whether she had gone too far.
“But didn’t Clarence hear that you were going?” she asked.
“He was in Switzerland with his mother. She had been recommended to try a change.”
Bella asked no more questions and Millicent sat wondering how far she had been influenced by the reason she had given for leaving Clarence behind. She had undoubtedly desired to be free to devote herself to the gathering of material for her book, but that was not quite all. She had also half-consciously shrunk from the close contact with Clarence which would have been one result of their life in camp, but this she refused to admit. It was clearer that she desired an extension of the liberty which she must sometime relinquish. Taking it all round, she was rather troubled in mind.
“There’s one thing,” remarked Bella. “He can’t write you any reproachful letters for stealing away. At least, if he does so, you won’t get them.”
This, as Millicent recognized, was a relief, but Miss Hume broke in upon her reflections with some trifling request and soon afterward the men strolled back toward the fire. The packers had already gone to sleep; the dew was heavy, but Nasmyth lay down on the shingle and Carew took a place beside his wife’s chair. Suddenly Millicent leaned forward with her face turned toward the lake.
“Listen!” she cried sharply. “Can’t you hear something?”
No sound reached the others for a moment; and then Nasmyth jumped up.
“Yes,” he exclaimed; “canoe paddles.”
A measured beat stole out of the silence, increasing until it broke sharply through the tranquil lapping of the water. Then, far up the glittering lake, a dim black bar crept out into the moonlight and by degrees grew plainer.
“Of course, they may be Indians,” Bella suggested mischievously.
Carew included Millicent in his answering bow.
“No; I believe I’m beaten. You and Miss Gladwyne were right.”
The moonlight was on Millicent’s face, and Bella, watching her, read something that roused her interest in its expression—it was stronger than satisfaction, a deeper feeling not unmixed with pride. She had called and the man she had summoned from the depths of the wilderness had responded.
A few minutes later the canoe grounded noisily on the shingle and Crestwick leaped out; Bella, regardless of the others, flung her arms about his neck and kissed him; and then she held him off so that she might see him. His garments were rent and tattered, his face was very lean, and one of his hands was bleeding from continuous labor with the paddle.
“Oh!” she cried; “you disreputable scarecrow! You’re not fit for select society. And how long is it since you had anything to eat?”
“We had a rather rough time getting through; there was thick scrub timber in some of the valleys,” Crestwick explained. “We might have made things easier by spending another few days on the trail, but Lisle wouldn’t listen when I suggested it.”
“Then you did suggest it,” said Bella reproachfully. “Of course, I’m merely your sister.”
“I don’t want a better one,” Crestwick rejoined, grinning. “It strikes me you’re looking prettier than you did; but that’s perhaps because you have taken to wearing more ladylike clothes. As regards my appearance, I’ll venture to say that yours will be very much the same before you’ve finished this journey.”
Lisle had walked toward Miss Hume and had shaken hands with her before he turned to Millicent. That pleased the girl.
“We ran it rather close, but the day isn’t quite finished yet,” he laughed. “We had some little trouble once or twice which prevented our turning up earlier.”
Millicent smiled in a manner that sent a thrill through him.
“I can only say that we kept your supper; but that’s significant, isn’t it?” Then she called to Nasmyth.
“Will you see if the cook’s awake?”
She had no opportunity for saying anything further, for Carew came up with Bella, who was voluble, and some time later Lisle and Crestwick sat down to a bountiful meal, while Millicent and Bella waited on them. Lisle was slightly embarrassed by their ministrations, but Crestwick openly enjoyed them.
“Put the plate where I can reach it easily,” he bade his sister. “Look how you have placed that cup; if I move, it will spill!”
“You have more courage than I have, Jim,” Carew remarked with a smile.
“I’ve needed it,” the lad declared. “I’ve borne enough from Bella in my time. She’ll no doubt say that I deserved it, and there may be some ground for the notion.”
When the meal was finished they all gathered round the replenished fire, Lisle lying back in the shadow because of the state of his clothes. With the exception of Jim, the others were dressed much as they had been at home; their conversation was light and easy, and their manner tranquil. If he could have blotted out the background of tall straight trunks and shadowy rocks, he could have imagined that they were lounging on a sheltered English lawn. Double-skinned tents, camp-chairs, and other signs of a regard for physical comfort bore out the idea in his mind. These English people with their quiet confidence that what they needed—and that was a good deal—would, as had always happened, somehow be supplied, were at once exasperating and admirable. They were the same everywhere, unmoved by change, claiming all that was choicest as by right, and very much at ease on the fringe of the wilderness. They did not belong to it; one could have imagined that it belonged to them. Their journey, however, had only begun, and there were alterations that must obviously be made on the morrow.
Then Lisle yielded to a strong sense of satisfaction. For the next month or two he would be almost constantly in Millicent’s company; her companions were his friends, and he thought that he would not be troubled by Gladwyne’s presence. Desiring to assure himself on the latter point, he turned to Bella.
“Nobody has mentioned Clarence. I was wondering if he would join us?”
“No,” she answered, smiling at him meaningly; “he wasn’t invited.” Then she moved away, leaving Lisle more deeply content.
Presently the party broke up, and when they reached the tent they jointly occupied, Miss Hume remarked to Millicent:
“You look unusually pleased, my dear.”
“I dare say I do,” Millicent smiled. “It’s something to feel that one’s confidence has been justified, and perhaps rather more to rest assured that everything will now go as smoothly as possible.”
“I suppose you mean since Mr. Lisle has come? Apart from his practical abilities, I’m fond of that man. No doubt you noticed that he came first to me, as the eldest, though he is aware that I’m only a dependent. In a way, of course, he wasn’t altogether right, Bella Carew being married and you the actual hostess.”
“I wonder if such points are of any importance in the bush,” Millicent answered, laughing. “But I’m glad Mr. Lisle’s action won your good opinion. I like my friends to be graceful.”
Miss Hume, faded, gray-haired and formal, looked reflective.
“The word you used is not quite the one I should have chosen. Clarence Gladwyne is graceful; I think this Canadian is something better. To-night he was actuated by genuine chivalry. My esteem may not be worth much, but it is his.”
Moved by some impulse, Millicent kissed her.
“I’ve no doubt he’d value it. But I can’t have Clarence depreciated; and it’s getting very late.”
Miss Hume noticed a slight change in the girl’s voice as she mentioned Gladwyne. She put out the lamp but it was some time before she went to sleep. She loved Millicent, and she believed there was trouble awaiting her.