The Girl from Keller's Part 44

"I saw they had to be altered," Sadie replied. "But when you can't get things done by others, you can do them, in a smaller way, yourself, and I find I can be satisfied with running a prairie farm as it ought to be run." She paused and resumed with a soft laugh: "Looks as if neither of us was fixed quite as we like. I have a husband who must be hustled; you want to hold yours back. Well, I guess we can't change that; we must take the boys for what they are and make allowances. Besides, your man's fine energy is perhaps the best thing he has."

Helen was somewhat moved. Sadie's rude philosophy was founded on truth, and having made sacrifices, she had a right to preach. After all, to dull the fine edge of Stephen's energy would be an unworthy action and perhaps dangerous. Helen had been jealous of his farm, but admitted that she might have had worse rivals.

"Do you know 'The Sons of Martha'?" she asked and recited a verse.

"It's great," said Sadie simply. "That man has our folks placed. Well, I don't read much poetry, but there's a piece of Whitman's I like. When I watch an ox-team break the first furrow in virgin soil, or a construction train, loaded with new steel, go by, I hear him calling: 'Pioneers! Oh, Pioneers!'"

There was silence for a few moments, and then Sadie leaned forward. "I don't know if I've said enough, or said too much, but Bob goes back in three days and could take a message."

The color crept into Helen's face, and her look was strangely soft.

"Let him tell Stephen to finish his work as well as he can; say I understand."

CHAPTER XXVII

SNOW

Tossing snowflakes filled the air, and although it was three o'clock in the afternoon the light was fading, when Charnock opened the door of the caboose. A bitter wind rushed past him and eddied about the car, making the stove crackle. The iron was red-hot in places and a fierce twinkle shone out beneath the rattling door. Half-seen men lay in the bunks along the shadowy wall, tools jingled upon the throbbing boards, but the motion was gentler than usual and the wheels churned softly instead of hammering.

"Is she going to make it?" somebody asked.

Charnock leaned out of the door. Black smoke streamed about the cars and he heard a heavy snorting some distance off, but the caboose lurched slowly along the uneven track. The construction train was climbing a steep grade, the driving wheels slipped and he doubted if the locomotive could reach the summit, from which the line ran down to the camp. Dim pines, hardly distinguishable from the white hillside, drifted past; a shapeless rack loomed up and slowly drew abreast. It was some moments before Charnock lost it in the tossing white haze.

"I don't know if she'll make it or not, but rather think she won't," he said.

"Then come in and shut the blamed door," another growled. "No need to worry about it, anyhow! Pay's as good for stopping in the caboose as for humping rails in the snow."

"You're luckier than me in that way," Charnock answered as he shut the door. "There are some drawbacks to being your own boss. When you can't get to work it's comforting to know that somebody else has to find the dollars and put up the hash."

He shivered as he sat down on a box. The snow was obviously deep and things would be unpleasant at the camp, but Festing would not let this interfere with work. Charnock thought he had been foolish to come back, but Festing expected him and Sadie agreed that he ought to go. It was something of an effort to live up to the standards of such a partner and such a wife. Sadie was a very good sort, better than he deserved, but he would not have minded it if she were not quite so anxious about his moral welfare. Besides, after the comfort of the homestead, the caboose jarred. It smelt of acrid soft-coal smoke, the air was full of dust, and rubbish jolted about the floor. Then Charnock grinned as he admitted that he had not expected to find the path of virtue smooth.

His reflections were rudely disturbed, for a violent jolt threw him off the box. The boards he fell upon no longer throbbed, and it was evident that the train had stopped. The others laughed as he got up.

"Loco's. .h.i.t a big drift," said one. "I guess the engineer won't b.u.t.t her through."

"He'll surely try; Jake hates to be beat," another remarked, and the caboose began to shake as the train ran backwards down the line.

A minute or two later there was a savage jerk and a furious snorting.

The caboose rolled ahead again, faster than before, for the wheels had cut a channel through the snow, and somebody said, "Watch out! Hold tight when she jumps!"

The speed slackened, a jarring crash ran backwards along the train, and the caboose tilted as if the wheels had left the rails. Tools and sacks of provisions rolled across the inclined floor, which suddenly sank to a level, and a man who had fallen from his bunk got up and opened the door.

"She's bedded in good and fast. Guess Jake will be satisfied now," he said, and laughed when a whistle rang through the snow. "n.o.body could hear that a mile ahead, and as she's not over the divide it's some way to camp. I reckon we'll stop here until they dig us out."

Soon afterwards some more men came in, covered with snow. Then the door was shut, the stove filled and a lamp lighted, and Charnock resigned himself to spending another night in the caboose. After all, it was as warm as the shack, and he reflected with some amus.e.m.e.nt that Festing probably did not expect him to be punctual. The latter knew his habits, and no doubt imagined that he would find the comfort of the homestead seductive. But Festing did not know Sadie, who had sent him back within the promised time. He enjoyed his supper and slept well afterwards.

In fact, he did not waken until a stinging draught swept through the caboose and he saw that it was daylight. The door was open and he heard voices outside. He recognized one as the foreman's, and presently the fellow came in.

"D'you reckon you're here for good, you blamed hibernating deadbeats?"

he asked the occupants of the bunks. "Turn out and get busy before I put a move on you!"

The men got up, grumbling, and Charnock b.u.t.toned his skin-coat and jumped down into the snow. He sank to his knees, but went deeper before he reached the engine, round which a gang of men were at work with shovels. It was not his business to help them and he floundered on up the track they had made until he crossed the summit and saw the bridge in the distance. Half an hour afterwards he met Festing and thought he looked surprised.

"You didn't come with the boys to dig us out," Charnock remarked.

"No," said Festing. "We knew the train had pa.s.sed the b.u.t.te, and guessed where she was held up. But I hardly thought--"

"You didn't think I'd be up to time?" Charnock suggested. "Well, it's remarkable what a good example does!"

"Did you see Helen?"

"Sadie saw her. I understand she was very well and sent you a message.

You're to finish your job and make good--Helen understands."

Festing was silent a moment, and when he looked up his eyes were soft.

"Thank you, Bob! Or perhaps it's Sadie I ought to thank?"

"I wouldn't bother about it. Sadie's fond of meddling," Charnock answered with some embarra.s.sment. "But will the snow stop the work?"

"Not altogether. We can keep busy on the hill and I'm going up now. Will you come?"

"Presently," said Charnock, smiling. "Food's a thing you don't seem to need when you're occupied, but I want my breakfast before I start."

Festing went away, and after a time Charnock joined him on the hill, where fresh trees had been felled and roughly squared with the ax. Men and horses were working hard, but Charnock stopped for a minute or two before he began. The snow was different from the thin covering that scarcely hid the short gra.s.s on the plains. The pines were glittering white pyramids, with branches that bent beneath their load, and there were no inequalities on the drop to the river. Every projection was leveled up, the hollows were filled, and the snow ran unbroken among the trunks in a smooth white sheet. It was not drying and getting powdery, because the frost was not very keen, and he imagined that Festing meant to get as much lumber as possible down while the surface could be beaten into a smooth track.

"You might take Gordon's team and break a trail by hauling the lighter pieces to the top," Festing said. "They'll run down when they have worn a chute, but we'll have some trouble man-handling the first."

Charnock nodded as he glanced over the edge of the narrow tableland.

The descent was not steep near the top, but farther on it dropped precipitously to the water, crossing the curve by the bridge.

"How will you stop the heavy stuff going into the river?" he asked.

Festing indicated two men moving about the waterside. They looked curiously stumpy with their legs buried in the snow.

"I sent them to make a chain fast to the rocks. We'll shackle up the first logs we run down and make a lumber pond. A few may shoot across the top, but we'll see what must be done as we get on."

Charnock hooked the chain round the smallest log he could find and started the horses. They slipped and floundered as they plodded through the soft snow. Sometimes the log ran for a few yards, crushing down the surface, but it often sank overhead and the team struggled hard to drag it out. For all that, Charnock reached the top of the slope, and turning back, widened the trail he had made. The next log ran easier, although it gave him trouble, but when he stopped at noon he had beaten down a road.

When they started again he left the team to somebody else and joined the men who were clearing out a trough down the hill. This was harder work, but the small contractor finds it pays to give his men a lead instead of orders, and for a time Charnock used the shovel and his feet. Then Festing said they had better move a few logs as far as they would go, and they worked the first trunk down hill with handspikes and tackles.

The lumber scored the bottom of the trough and would not run, and they struggled through the banked-up snow, lifting the heavy ma.s.s when it sank. Now and then they fixed the tackle to a tree and dragged the log across short skids thrust under its end, and at length launched it from the brow of the steeper pitch.

It plunged down some distance, but stopped again, half buried in loose snow, and they scrambled after it, clinging to small trees. Then the work got dangerous. One could scarcely stand on the steep bank, and when the log started it rather leaped than slid. Spikes, torn from the men's hands, shot into the air, and those in front sprang back for their lives, but the ma.s.s seldom went far before loose snow brought it up and the struggle with the levers began again. At last, it slipped from a hummock and glided slowly down, crumpling the snow in front, while a man, clinging to the b.u.t.t and shouting hoa.r.s.e jokes, trailed down the track behind.

Moving the next was easier, and those that followed ran without much help for most of the way, while when dark came the bank at the top was empty and there was a pile of logs held up by the chain at the waterside. Their descent had worn the channel smooth, and it was now difficult to stop them going too far. In a day or two Festing brought the most part of his material to the spot where it would be used, and got ready to put up the frames.

Stinging frost set in, and on the morning they cleared the ground for the first post Charnock felt daunted as he beat his numbed hands. The sky was clear; a hard, dazzling blue, against which the white peaks were silhouetted with every ridge and pinnacle in sharp outline. They twinkled like steel in places, but there were patches of delicate gray, and here and there a dark rock broke through its covering. The bottom of the gorge was soft blue, and the river a streak of raw indigo, but there was no touch of warm color in the savage landscape. The glitter made Charnock's eyes ache and the reflected sunshine burned his skin.