"Wheelock to Jordan. Friends of yours?" he said. "You would probably meet them at Austerly's."
"Yes," said Anthea, "I think I may say they are."
It was essentially characteristic of Merril that he showed no displeasure. He was indulgent to his daughter, and one who very seldom allowed himself to be led away by either personal liking or rancor. For a moment he stood still looking down at her with a dry smile, and, because no father and daughter can be wholly dissimilar, Anthea bore his scrutiny with perfect composure.
"Well," he said, "they're both men of some ability, with signs of grit in them, though I don't know that it would have troubled me if I had heard no more of the Shasta. Now I'm a little late, and it will be to-night before I'm back from the city."
He turned away, and once more Anthea became sensible of a faint repulsion for her father. Every word Eleanor Wheelock had uttered in Forster's ranch had impressed itself on her memory, and she knew now that his interests clashed with those of the Shasta Company. It would not have astonished her if he had shown some sign of resentment, but this complete indifference appeared unnatural, and troubled her. He was, it seemed, as devoid of anger as he was, if Eleanor Wheelock and several others were to be believed, of pity. Then she felt that she must, to a certain extent, at least, confide in some one, and she set out to call on Nellie Austerly.
It happened that morning that Jimmy stood on the Shasta's bridge as she steamed up the softly gleaming straits. Ahead a dingy smoke-cloud was moving on toward him, and he took his glasses from the box when the black shape of a steamer grew out of it. She rose rapidly higher, and Jimmy guessed that she was considerably larger than the Shasta and steaming three or four knots faster. Then he made out that her deck was crowded with passengers, and, though the beaver ensign floated over her stern, their destination was evident when he glanced at the flag at the fore. The only American soil north of them was Alaska.
She drew abreast, a beautiful vessel of old and almost obsolete model, with the clear green water frothing high beneath her outward curve of prow. There was no forecastle forward to break the sweeping line of rail, and the broad quarter-deck that overhung her slender stern had also its suggestiveness to a seaman's eye. The smoke-cloud at her funnel further hinted that her speed was purchased by a consumption of coal that would have been considered intolerable in a modern boat. Then the strip of bunting at her mainmast head fixed Jimmy's attention.
"Merril's hard on our trail," he said. "She's taking a big crowd of miners north. That's his flag."
Fleming, who stood beneath the bridge, looked up with a little nod. "I would not compliment him on his sense," he said. "A beautiful boat, but the man who runs her will want a coal-mine of his own. Got her cheap, I figure, but it's only at top-freights she could make a living. Guess Merril's screwing all he can out of those miners, but those rates won't last when the C.P.R. and the Americans cut in, and if I had a boat of that kind I'd put up a big insurance and then scuttle her."
Then one of the two or three bronzed prospectors who had come down with the Shasta approached the bridge.