Chapter XXV—The Broken Range
The fortnight Agatha agreed to had nearly gone when, early one morning, Thirlwell and Drummond climbed a hill behind the camp and stood on the summit, looking about. Thin mist drifted across the low ground in front, but some miles off a forest-covered ridge rose against the sky. It was hardly a range of hills, but rather what prospectors call a height of land; a moderately elevated watershed marking off two river basins. Running roughly east and west as far as he could see, it limited Thirlwell's view and had puzzled him for some days.
Since the rivers that drained the country flowed northeast to Hudson Bay, it was obvious that there must be an opening in the ridge, but he had been unable to find one. Moreover, as Strange's creek ran south before it turned east, he imagined it was on his side of the heighth of land, but he had seen no stream flowing in either direction. Strange's notes were incomplete; and although Thirlwell calculated that he was about thirty miles from the spot where the ore outcropped, he had found none of the landmarks. The creek was not behind him, but a radius of thirty miles would cover a wide belt of country, and he doubted if he could persuade Agatha to extend the fortnight. Her obstinacy was ridiculous, but must be reckoned on.
By and by a faint breeze sprang up and the mist rolled back. Here and there a lake sparkled in the light of the rising sun and dark pines rose out of the streaming vapor. But there was no glistening thread to indicate a creek, and Thirlwell turned to Drummond with an impatient frown.
"Do you see anything that you think you ought to recognize?"
"No," said Drummond, rather sulkily, "I don't."
"You haven't been of much use to us yet! I think you stated that when you got here you'd recollect all your father told you about Strange's talk. Seeing the places would bring things back!"
"I haven't seen the places, and the old man was very sick when he told me. Anyhow, I've tracked your blamed canoes, and packed your stores across the divides. Guess I'd have hit the back trail long since if it wasn't for Miss Strange."
"Then we had better get down," said Thirlwell. "The boys don't seem to have started to cook breakfast, and I want to pull out soon."
He was turning away when Drummond stopped him, stretching out his arm. "Hold on! What's that yonder?"
"Mist," said Thirlwell, impatiently.
"No; it's too dark. Look again!"
Thirlwell started. The mist was drifting past the detached clump of pines his companion indicated, but its color was silvery, and he now noted a faint blue streak. This was something of a shock, for he had thought there was nobody but his party in the neighborhood.
"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "Go down as fast as you can and tell the boys not to make a fire."
When Drummond went off Thirlwell sat down and watched the smoke. It got plainer, and rose in a thick blue cloud when the mist rolled away. Somebody was cooking breakfast and the volume of smoke indicated a large fire. It looked as if there were a number of men to be fed, and Thirlwell had not expected to find Indians near the spot just then. After a time, the smoke died away and he went back to camp, but told Agatha nothing about what he had seen. When breakfast was over he took one of the Metis and plunged into the bush. There was not much need for caution, because the party would, no doubt, set off when they had finished their meal, and if they were Indians, it did not matter if he met them. But he did not think they were Indians.
When he had gone a mile or two, he stopped at the edge of a muskeg and sent the Metis on to a clump of pines on the other side. The man, keeping in the shadow, stole round the swamp, and vanished noiselessly in the underbrush. After a time, he reappeared, beckoning, and Thirlwell knitted his brows when he joined him.
The ashes of a fire smoldered between two hearth-logs; white chips and broken branches were scattered about. Near his feet were six small round holes, spaced in a regular pattern, and a cotton flour-bag and some empty cans lay beneath a bush.
"A white man's camp; they had a tent," he said.
"Sure," agreed the Metis. "Teepee poles they not mak' hole lak' dat."
"Well, I reckon a sour-dough prospector wouldn't have bothered about a tent. Looks as if one of them was a tenderfoot. Qu'en pense-tu?"
The Metis' keen eyes had wandered round the camp and he nodded. "But, yes! Dat man sait vivre; he lak' it comfortable."
"A city man!" Thirlwell remarked, with a frown. How many packers?"
"Quat," said the Metis.
"Voyageurs?"
The Metis laughed scornfully as he indicated the trampled brush, broken branches, greasy papers, and scraps of food. "Me, I think no! Railroad outfit. Voyageur not muss up camp lak' dat."
Thirlwell agreed. A half-breed voyageur does not waste food, and with inherited caution seldom disturbs the bush. It looked as if the city man had engaged a gang of track-layers, who are used to pioneering and sometimes carry surveyors' stores through the wilds.
"Well," he said, "we'll follow their trail."
The party had obviously left the water for a time, because their track led away from the creek in the valley and the bush was too thick to permit the portaging of canoes. Thirlwell followed the trail until he satisfied himself that they were going east, and then went back to his camp. Finding Agatha at the water's edge he sat down opposite.
"I'm afraid you didn't get much breakfast, but I didn't want the fire lighted," he said, and told her what he had seen.
"Ah!" she cried. "Do you think Stormont is looking for the ore?"
"I think so; I'm not certain."
"But he failed to find it once and nearly starved."
Thirlwell smiled. "I understand the fellow's obstinate. He may have got a fresh clue or found out something we don't know."
"Do you think he has been following us?"
"I don't. If he'd known we were in the neighborhood, he would not have lighted a fire."
"After all," said Agatha thoughtfully, "my father stated that he had staked the claim."
"I'm afraid that doesn't count for much. You're not recognized as prospective owner until your record's filed. I imagine your father's statement would carry some weight, but going to law about a mine is generally an expensive job, and it's hard to put up a good fight against a man with capital."
"Then what are you going to do about it?" Agatha asked anxiously.
"Get away from here at once, and as far as possible keep to the lakes; water carries no trail. Then Stormont has decided a point that has been bothering me—since he's gone east, we must go north or west."
"Yes. Unless it's possible that his clue is better than ours."
"I thought about that," Thirlwell replied. "We don't know if he has a clue, but we'll stick to ours and take the risk. Your father's directions are plain enough if we can find the first of his landmarks."
"Then go west," said Agatha. "I imagine the creek is on this side of the range."
Thirlwell got up and went to see the canoes launched, but he wondered whether Agatha remembered that there were only two or three days of the fortnight left. He thought she did remember, but he resolved that they would not turn back.
Soon after they started, a fresh breeze sprang up from the north-west and the shadows of flying clouds sped across the lake. The sky between the clouds was a curious vivid blue, the light was strong, and the woods along the bank flashed into bright color and faded to somber green as the gleams of sunshine passed. For a few minutes, trunks and branches stood out, sharply distinct, and then melted suddenly into their background. By degrees the ripples that lined the lake got larger; there was an angry splashing at the bows of the canoes, and little showers of spray began to fly.
"This clearness means the wind will hold and it's right ahead," Thirlwell said to Agatha, "We haven't had much luck of late!"
"The luck will change," she answered, smiling. "I am confident."
"Confidence doesn't cost you much effort," Thirlwell rejoined. "You were persuaded from the beginning that you would find the ore. It looks as if you were naturally optimistic."
"Oh, no! I had my weak moments when I wanted to shirk. I hated to feel I wasn't free like other people, and was willing to throw away my chance of getting rich. But that wouldn't have helped much; I couldn't get rid of the duty."
"You have pluck. For all that, I think you're indulging a rather exaggerated sentiment. Anyhow, it's hard to imagine you have had many doubts since we left the mine."
"I've had none. When you found the tobacco-box I knew I would succeed. There was something strangely significant about your finding it."
"I happened to look in the right place," said Thirlwell, dryly.
Agatha laughed. "You take a very matter-of-fact view."
"Perhaps so," Thirlwell agreed. "If I were steeped in sentiment, it wouldn't help me drive the canoe faster against a head-wind or carry a heavier load across a portage. That's a purely mechanical proposition. In the meantime, we're slowing up and will soon begin to drift astern."
"Then paddle," said Agatha, smiling. "After all, you're much more of a sentimentalist than I think you know."
Thirlwell bent over his paddle and the canoe forged ahead, but the breeze freshened, and the ripples changed to crested waves. Agatha's face was wet, her slicker dripped, and the men breathed hard between the strokes. They labored on, and at noon ran the canoes aground in the lee of a rocky island. Thirlwell ordered the Metis to use nothing but dry driftwood, which makes little smoke, for the fire, and when they rested after a meal found Drummond sitting alone outside the camp. He looked moody and his eyes were fixed on the height of land.
"Feeling bothered about something?" Thirlwell asked.
"Yes," said Drummond. "I'm trying to get back all the old man told me about Strange's tale. He only talked about it once, when he was sick. Looks as if he hadn't thought the lode a business proposition, and I didn't then. Besides, I was anxious and didn't listen much. Part of it came back afterwards, but not all. There's something I can't get."
"That's unlucky," Thirlwell remarked in a dry tone. "We need a hint."
"I reckoned I'd get it when I saw the country," Drummond went on. "I allow we're not far enough yet."
Thirlwell made a sign of disagreement. "Strange said the creek ran south and then turned east. I imagine there isn't another neighborhood where that's likely to happen. If we cross the divide, I expect we'll find the water running north."
"Well," said Drummond moodily, "you'd better leave me alone. There's something—if I'm quiet, I may get what I'm feeling for." He knitted his brows and a curious fixed look came into his eyes. "I know it's not far off, but I miss it when I'm just getting on the track."
Thirlwell left him and smiled half impatiently as he went back across the rocks. He had sometimes been puzzled, and sometimes amused, by Agatha's confidence, and now Drummond, who had given him no help so far, talked about an elusive clue. It looked as if both allowed their imagination too much rein, and trusted to vague feelings instead of their reasoning powers. Give him a compass bearing, or a definite base-line to calculate an angle from, and he would engage to take the party to the required spot; but he had frankly no use for the other thing. Yet he sometimes wondered—there was a calm assurance in Agatha's eyes. If this was not founded on superstition, from what did it spring?
They launched again in the afternoon, and reached the head of the lake wet and tired. Thirlwell did not talk much after supper, but sat by the fire, smoking, for some time after Agatha went to her tent. He had, in fact, been rather silent for the last few days. Now they were near the end of their journey he did not know if he wanted Agatha to find the lode or not. When they started he had imagined that the search would lead to nothing, and had gone because her society had a charm and he wanted to free her mind of a dangerous illusion. But he could no longer think the lode an illusion. The silver was there, and if one searched long enough, could, no doubt, be found.
This was somehow disturbing, but with a half-conscious wish to shirk the truth he would not inquire bluntly why it disturbed him. He wanted the girl to be happy, and had thought it best for her that she should give up the attempt to find the lode. Now he must readjust his views, and it was hard to see what place there would be for him in her affairs if she became the owner of a rich mining claim.
Next morning they made a difficult portage to another lake, and launching the canoes at noon found the wind blowing fresh. The lake was wide, and when by and by an angry sea got up Thirlwell reluctantly steered for the shelter of a rocky point. They had covered very little ground since they started, and there was only another day of the fortnight left. After supper some of the men went fishing, and Drummond set off alone along the beach, while Agatha and Thirlwell sat among the rocks where the pungent wood-smoke drifted past and kept the mosquitoes off. The sun had set and the air was very clear; they could see the ragged pines across the lake, but the trees on the point behind them cut off their view to the north.
Presently Drummond came back, running fast, and stopped in front of Agatha. His eyes sparkled and the sweat ran down his face.
"What's the matter?" Thirlwell asked. "Have the timber wolves got after you?"
"The broken range!" Drummond gasped. "Get up, Miss Strange, and come right along!"
Agatha looked at Thirlwell, who smiled. "I don't know what he means, but perhaps we had better go."
They followed the lad for some distance, though the shingle was large and rough. Now and then he turned and looked back impatiently, as if they were not coming fast enough; but at length he stopped and indicated the high ground to the north. Its bold line, colored a soft blue, stood out against the yellow sky, and in one place there was a sharply defined gap.
"There!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "I guess that's the broken range!"
"I see the break," said Thirlwell. "What about it?"
"Don't embarrass him," Agatha interrupted. "It's something he remembers. Perhaps his father talked about the gap."
"He did," said Drummond. "The thing's been kind of floating in my mind all day, but I couldn't get it fixed. Then I saw that gap and knew I'd got what I'd been feeling for."
"What did your father say?"
"The Indian camp he sent Strange to was in thin bush, close under the broken range, on the north side."
Thirlwell turned to Agatha. "Then we oughtn't to have much trouble in locating the ore. We know where the factory stood, and if we can find the thin bush, I can follow the line your father took."
Agatha's eyes shone and her color came and went, but with an effort she preserved her calm.
"After all, the bush may have grown."
"I think not," said Thirlwell. "It's probably rocky ground where the trees are small."
"But how was it my father did not see the gap?"
"That is easily accounted for. The gap's not large, and I expect you can only see it when you're directly opposite, at a right angle to the line of the high ground. If you moved back a mile or two, the rocks and trees would shut it in. Drummond didn't see it as we came up the lake."
"I suppose we must wait until to-morrow?"
"Yes," said Thirlwell. "We must leave the water, and can't get through the bush in the dark."
Agatha made a sign of agreement. "Very well; I am glad the nights are very short. But I would like to start at daybreak."
Then they turned and went back silently to camp. Thirlwell was conscious of a keen disturbance that he would not analyze and saw that Agatha did not want to talk. As a matter of fact, Agatha could not talk. She felt a curious exaltation: her heart was full.