The Major Part 20

"Do you care to come? It's not much longer that way," said Larry.

"I might," said the young man. Then looking doubtfully at his sister, "You cannot come very well, Dorothea, can you?"

"No, that is, I'm afraid not," she replied. She was a pretty girl with ma.s.ses of yellow hair, light blue eyes, a plump, kindly face and a timid manner. As she spoke she, true to her German training, evidently waited for an indication of her brother's desire.

"There are the cows, you know," continued her brother.

"Yes, there are the cows," her face clouding as she spoke.

"Oh, rot!" said Larry, "you don't milk until evening, and we get back before tea. Come along."

Still the girl hesitated. "Well," said her brother brusquely, "do you want to come?"

She glanced timidly at his rather set face and then at Larry. "I don't know. I am afraid that--"

"Oh, come along, Dorothea, do you hear me telling you? You will be in plenty of time and your brother will help you with the milking."

"Ernest help! Oh, no!"

"Not on your life!" said that young man. "I never milk. I haven't for years. Well, come along then," he added in a grudging voice.

"That is fine," said Larry. "But, Dorothea, you ought to make him learn to milk. Why shouldn't he? The lazy beggar. Do you mean to say that he never helps with the milking?"

"Oh, never," said Dorothea.

"Our men don't do women's work," said Ernest. "It is not the German way.

It is not fitting."

"And what about women doing men's work?" said Larry. "It seems to me I have seen German women at work in the fields up in the Settlement."

"I have no doubt you have," replied Ernest stiffly. "It is the German custom."

"You make me tired," said Larry, "the German custom indeed! Does that make it right?"

"For us, yes," replied Ernest calmly.

"But you are Canadians, are you not? Are there to be different standards in Canada for different nationalities?"

"Oh, the Germans will follow the German way. Because it is German, and demonstrated through experience to be the best. Look at our people. Look at our prosperity at home, at our growth in population, at our wealth, at our expansion in industry and commerce abroad. Look at our social conditions and compare them with those in this country or in any other country in the world. Who will dare to say that German methods and German customs are not best, at least for Germans? But let us move a little faster, otherwise we shall never catch up with them." He touched his splendid broncho into a sharp gallop, the other horses following more slowly behind.

"He is very German, my brother," said Dorothea. "He thinks he is Canadian, but he is not the same since he went over Home. He is talking all the time about Germany, Germany, Germany. I hate it." Her blue eyes flashed fire and her usually timid voice vibrated with an intense feeling. Larry gazed at her in astonishment.

"You may look at me, Larry," she cried. "I am German but I do not like the German ways. I like the Canadian ways. The Germans treat their women like their cows. They feed them well, they keep them warm because--because--they have calves--I mean the cows--and the women have kids. I hate the German ways. Look at my mother. What is she in that house? Day and night she has worked, day and night, saving money--and what for? For Ernest. Running to wait on him and on Father and they never know it. It's women's work with us to wait on men, and that is the way in the Settlement up there. Look at your mother and you. Mein Gott!

I could kill them, those men!"

"Why, Dorothea, you amaze me. What's up with you? I never heard you talk like this. I never knew that you felt like this."

"No, how could you know? Who would tell you? Not Ernest," she replied bitterly.

"But, Dorothea, you are happy, are you not?"

"Happy, I was until I knew better, till two years ago when I saw your mother and you with her. Then Ernest came back thinking himself a German officer--he is an officer, you know--and the way he treated our mother and me!"

"Treated your mother! Surely he is not unkind to your mother?" Larry had a vision of a meek, round-faced, kindly, contented woman, who was obviously proud of her only son.

"Kind, kind," cried Dorothea, "he is kind as German sons are kind. But you cannot understand. Why did I speak to you of this? Yes, I will tell you why," she added, apparently taking a sudden resolve. "Let's go slowly. Ernest is gone anyway. I will tell you why. Before Ernest went away he was more like a Canadian boy. He was good to his mother. He is good enough still but--oh, it is so hard to show you. I have seen you and your mother. You would not let your mother brush your boots for you, you would not sit smoking and let her carry in wood in the winter time, you would not stand leaning over the fence and watch your mother milk the cow. Mein Gott! Ernest, since he came back--the women are only good for waiting on him, for working in the house or on the farm. His wife, she will not work in the fields; Ernest is too rich for that. But she will not be like"--here the girl paused abruptly, a vivid colour dyeing her fair skin--"like your wife. I would die sooner than marry a German man."

"But Ernest is not like that, Dorothea. He is not like that with my sisters. Why, he is rather the other way, awfully polite and all that sort of thing, you know."

"Yes, that's the way with young German gentlemen to young ladies, that is, other people's ladies. But to their own, no. And I must tell you.

Oh, I am afraid to tell you," she added breathlessly. "But I will tell you, you have been so kind, so good to me. You are my friend, and you will not tell. Promise me you will never tell." The girl's usually red face was pale, her voice was hoa.r.s.e and trembling.

"What is the matter, Dorothea? Of course I won't tell."

"Ernest wants to marry your sister, Kathleen. He is just mad to get her, and he always gets his way too. I would not like to see your sister his wife. He would break her heart and," she added in a lower voice, "yours too. But remember you are not to tell. You are not to let him know I told you." A real terror shone in her eyes. "Do you hear me?" she cried.

"He would beat me with his whip. He would, he would."

"Beat you, beat you?" Larry pulled up his horse short. "Beat you in this country--oh, Dorothea!"

"They do. Our men do beat their women, and Ernest would too. The women do not think the same way about it as your women. You will not tell?"

she urged.

"What do you think I am, Dorothea? And as for beating you, let me catch him. By George, I'd, I'd--"

"What?" said Dorothea, turning her eyes full upon him, her pale face flushing.

Larry laughed. "Well, he's a big chap, but I'd try to knock his block off. But it's nonsense. Ernest is not that kind. He's an awfully good sort."

"He is, he is a good sort, but he is also a German officer and, ah, you cannot understand, but do not let him have your sister. I have told you.

Come, let us go quickly."

They rode on in silence, but did not overtake the others until they reached the timber lot where they found the party waiting. With what Dorothea had just told him in his mind, Larry could not help a keen searching of Kathleen's face. She was quietly chatting with the young German, with face serene and quite untouched with anything but the slightest animation. "She is not worrying over anything," said Larry to himself. Then he turned and looked upon the face of the young man at her side. A shock of surprise, of consternation, thrilled him. The young man's face was alight with an intensity of eagerness, of desire, that startled Larry and filled him with a new feeling of anxiety, indeed of dismay.

"Oh, you people are slow," cried Nora. "What is keeping you? Come along or we shall be late. Shall we go through the woods straight to the dump, or shall we go around?"

"Let's go around," cried Kathleen. "Do you know I have not been around for ever so long?"

"Yes," said Larry, "let's go around by Nora's mine."

"Nora's mine!" exclaimed Ernest. "Do you know I've heard about that mine a great deal but I have never seen Nora's mine?"

"Come along, then," said Nora, "but there's almost no trail and we shall have to hurry while we can. There's only a cow track."

"Move along then," said her brother; "show us the way and we will follow. Go on, Ernest."

But Ernest apparently had difficulty with his broncho so that he was found at the rear of the line with Kathleen immediately in front of him.

The cow trail led out of the coolee over a shoulder of a wooded hill and down into a ravine whose sharp sides made the riding even to those experienced westerners a matter of difficulty, in places of danger. At the bottom of the ravine a little torrent boiled and foamed on its way to join Wolf Willow Creek a mile further down. After an hour's struggle with the brushwood and fallen timber the party was halted by a huge spruce tree which had fallen fair across the trail.

"Where now, boss?" cried Larry to Nora, who from her superior knowledge of the ground, had been leading the party.