Harold Bindloss - The League of the Leopard

"Here's to our better acquaintance, sir; and my best thanks," he said. "I'm a plain, self-taught man, and may have blundered in enforcing what I thought my rights. If so, I regret it."

What Brandram Maxwell answered Dane did not remember, but he expressed it very neatly; and while the feud was patched up, his son smiled curiously at the younger man. He was like his father, but taller in stature, dark in color of eyes and hair, and slightly olive-tinted in complexion, while his movements suggested a wiry suppleness. Dane surmised that he was of reserved, if not slightly sardonic, disposition.

The bowl of punch was emptied with every sign of amity; and when it was finished Thomas Chatterton, who had absorbed the major portion and declared that he had never tasted anything better, said: "I hope we shall see much more of each other in future, and, as an earnest of the wish, I will expect you shortly at The Larches, where Mrs. Chatterton will thank you for your kindness better than I can."

While Brandram Maxwell started some topic of conversation with his elder guest, his son, to whom Dane had mentioned the affair of the Englishman in South America, drew him aside.

"Hyslop and I were once good friends, and I consider myself your debtor for what you did for him," he said. "Did he tell you much about his wanderings, or that he and I came near successfully exploiting a Mexican mine?"

"No," said Dane. "He told me very little. What went wrong with the mine?"

Maxwell laughed.

"The unexpected happened. It generally does when one awaits the consummation of an ingenious scheme. I am especially sorry Hyslop has gone."

Dane longed to ascertain whether his new friend suspected any other explanation than the one he had seized upon for Chatterton's plunge into the river, and endeavored to do so, without success; for even when he afterward learned to know and trust him well, he never found it easy to glean more from Carsluith Maxwell than he wished to tell. An accident, however, favored him, and he thought more of the man for his reticence when, as the master of Culmeny was exhibiting some new artificial minnows in his gun-room, he heard his son, who had slipped away, say to somebody in the darkness beneath the open window:

"You remember the pheasants' eggs incident, Kevan? You need not repeat your explanations, because I have no intention of raking it up, and merely wish to suggest that you find means of preventing your comrades from talking too much about what happened to-night. When a gentleman of Mr. Chatterton's years allows his excitement to overcome him to such an extent that he follows a poacher into a flooded river, he naturally would not like his adventures made public property."

"I'm a wee bit puzzled, sir," answered an invisible person; and Maxwell's voice rose faintly through the sound of retreating footsteps:

"I am not puzzled in the least; and that ought to be sufficient. You are sure you understand my wishes?"

He came in a few moments later to inform his guests that the dog-cart was waiting.

As they drove home, Chatterton said sententiously:

"We all make mistakes at times, Hilton; and that was most excellent punch. For instance, when one comes to know him, Maxwell is what might be termed a very good fellow. Hard up like the rest of them, of course; land and buildings, as everybody knows, burdened to the hilt, but – I suppose it was born in him – he bears the stamp, and his son wears it too. You and I are different, you know, though travel has done a good deal for you. I have handled a good many men in my time, and I like that fellow's looks. He would be a very bad kind to tackle when the devil that smiles through his black eyes wakes up; and I think he'd stand by the man who played him fair through the damnedest kind of luck."

Dane, who fully endorsed this opinion, was afterward to discover that Thomas Chatterton was no bad judge of his fellow-men.

"They are neither of the type one associates with this part of the country," he commented.

"No," said Chatterton. "They were, I understand, always an adventurous family, and some of them who took part in the wars there in the old days intermarried with the Spaniards then holding the Low Countries. A strain of that kind takes a long time to work out, you know."

Chatterton's fishing was not without results, for in spite of, or perhaps because of, their different character and experience, it was the commencement of a friendship between himself and Maxwell of Culmeny. The iron-master had hewn his own way to fortune, and, being troubled by no petty diffidence, was, if anything, overfond of recounting has earlier struggles. The wild blood of the old moss-troopers still pulsed in the veins of the Maxwells, and the impoverished gentleman, who listened with interest, sighed as he remembered the sordid monotony of his own career, during which he had, by dint of painful economy, somewhat lightened the burden with which his inheritance had been saddled by the recklessness of his forbears.

Carsluith Maxwell took even more kindly to his new acquaintances; and there sprang up between himself and Dane a comradeship which was to stand a bitter test, while, as summer merged into autumn, he would sometimes wonder at himself. He said nothing about his African venture, and spent much time considering old rent books and the cost of moss-land reclamation schemes. The rest he spent shooting with Dane, or lounging at The Larches, if possible in Lilian Chatterton's vicinity; but, although he could rouse himself to temporary brilliancy, Maxwell was usually oversilent in feminine society, and Dane felt no jealousy. The latter rested content in the meantime with the knowledge that Lilian found a mild pleasure in his company; and only Mrs. Chatterton felt any misgivings respecting future possibilities. Being a wise woman, she kept her suspicions to herself until they became certainties, when one day Miss Margaret Maxwell, perhaps not wholly by accident, gave her a significant hint.

"I hear that your brother has undertaken an extensive drainage scheme," said the elder lady.

"We are hopeful that he will settle down at last," responded Margaret Maxwell. "My father's health is failing, and he has long desired his son's company; but Carsluith was always ambitious, and used to say he would never vegetate in poverty at Culmeny. Of late, however, we have been pleased to see that he is taking an almost suspicious interest in the improvement of the estate, and is now investing the money he made in Mexico in the reclamation of Langside Moss. As Carsluith seldom does anything without a reason, his sudden change of program puzzles us."

Mrs. Chatterton fancied she could supply the reason, but she made no comment. Lilian, she decided, had a right to choose for herself, and might make a worse selection than a Maxwell of Culmeny.

In the meantime, Dane still awaited his foreign commission, and might have waited indefinitely, but that once again a poacher played a part in the shaping of his destiny. There were plenty of them in that neighborhood; while rogue, and clown, and commonplace individual of average honesty usually outnumber either the saints or heroes in life's comedy. The poachers were netting the Culmeny partridges, and Dane promised to assist his comrade in an attempt to capture them.

It was a chilly night when Dane crouched in very damp clover beside a straggling hedge, waiting for the poachers, and wishing he had been wise enough to remain at home. Rain had fallen throughout the day, and now heavy clouds drifted overhead, while a chilly breeze shook an eery sighing out of the firs behind him. The moon was seldom visible, but a subdued luminescence filtered through, and he could just see Maxwell crouching in a neighboring ditch which was not wholly dry.