Harold Bindloss - The Ghost of Hemlock Canyon

He reflected that he himself looked rather like a British tramp. Since he gave away his bed he had not pulled off his clothes, and they carried the stains of his scramble down the gully. The rocks had scraped his wet and rather large English boots. It, however, was not important, and he imagined he would not be long at the ranch, although he liked the spot.

Across the sparkling lake, the rocks and pines went up; a curving glacier vanished behind the dim blue woods, and, farther back, glimmering peaks cut the sky. Since the big tree crashed, all was quiet but for the river’s throb. Denis sensed the landscape’s austere beauty, although he thought about something else. If Marvin, for his partner’s sake, were friendly, he was the only friend Denis had in Canada, and he must present himself.

He went up the veranda steps. Nobody was about, but after a time a Chinese house-boy, rubbing flour from his yellow hands, arrived. Denis inquired for Marvin and the other indicated a passage and went off. Denis pushed back a door at the other end, and a man got up from his desk in the spacious matchboarded room. He was tall, but not bulky; his figure was firmly lined, his face was thin and brown, and his glance was keen. Denis thought him something of the commanding-officer type.

“I am Denis Aylward,” he said. “I expect you got my letter?”

“You did not state your boat,” said Marvin, and gave him his hand, but somehow Denis got a hint of reserve. “However, we can fix you at the ranch-house until you have looked around.”

For a moment or two he studied his guest. Denis’s look was frank; he carried himself like a soldier, and for all his shabby clothes, one knew the boy thoroughbred. In fact, he was queerly like his uncle, twenty years since, and his voice was Tom Aylward’s voice. Marvin indicated a chair and put up the papers on his desk.

“The mail goes out in the morning and I was ordering supplies. Well, you thought you would like it in Canada, and your relations were willing for you to join me? Your uncle, of course, was my partner, and although I don’t know the others, I transacted some business for Mrs. Aylward a long time since.”

Denis sensed a question. Marvin’s look was imperturbable, but he waited.

“Mrs. Aylward is my grandmother, and she, at all events, approved. Although she is old, her judgment’s shrewd, and she thought you—”

“Well?” said Marvin, for Denis hesitated.

“She declared you were an honest man,” said Denis with an apologetic smile. “I believe her lawyers agreed that the settlement you sent across was generous. Then you see, she kept my uncle’s letters, and when I studied one or two I felt you might perhaps put me on the proper track—”

For a few moments Marvin was quiet, and, resting his arms on his desk, looked straight in front. His settlement of Aylward’s claim was just; he did not think a captious accountant could dispute an item in the bill. To know his partner’s mother was satisfied was something.

“But you have other relations,” he said.

“They were not enthusiastic about my experiment. For one thing, my articles—the apprenticeship agreement—cost a good sum, and they thought me rash to turn down a useful occupation. Perhaps I was rash, but, after France, I could not stand the office; I really think I tried. All the same, when the trustees saw I was resolved, they agreed that I ought to look you up.”

Marvin’s look was inscrutable, but he was moved. For long he had speculated about his partner’s folks. He had reckoned on a touch of suspicion; perhaps frank distrust. Now he knew they had not doubted him; Aylward’s letters home had satisfied them. Well, Tom was generous, but unconsciously Marvin frowned. After all, the others did not know—

“To begin with, we must fix what you’d like to do,” he said.

“My notion is to go to work on a ranch, the first where they’ll engage me. I must, if possible, earn five hundred dollars in twelve months. If I can do so, my trustee undertakes to double the amount, and I might then think about preempting some land.”

Marvin smiled. His habit was not to smile, but he liked the young fellow’s pluck. He was keener than his uncle; Denis Aylward’s blood was red: Marvin knew men. Since wages were high, he could use the lad; but the plan would not do. He did not want another Aylward about the ranch: he wanted to forget—

“Your folks mean to try you out? Well, maybe I can fix you. Rob Stoddart down the lake wants some help, and in the morning we’ll go along and see him. Now I must put through my orders for the stores, and we’ll look for Mrs. Marvin.”

Denis got up. He saw his host did not want to go.

“You are occupied; I must not disturb you, sir. Mrs. Marvin will perhaps allow me to present myself.”

His habit was to move quickly; the door shut and he was gone. Marvin heard his step in the passage and forgot the papers on his desk. The boy walked like his uncle; his step was the step Marvin sometimes heard in the dark.

Denis was rather preoccupied. On the whole, he liked his host, but he had noted a queer reserve, and Marvin had not urged him to remain long. However, all he wanted was to get to work. He looked up, and a girl with whom he had nearly collided gave him a smile. Denis thought her attractive, although hers was not the modern, virile stamp. Her lines were curved, her glance was soft, and marked by a touch of coquetry. Denis had seen her on board the train.

“I ought to have looked where I went,” he said. “Perhaps you are Miss Marvin— But now I think you’re not.”

“Sometimes second thoughts are best. At all events, I am Rhoda Staines. However, since you don’t know Kate, your recognizing the mistake is rather remarkable.”

“For one thing, I have just interviewed Mr. Marvin,” said Denis, modestly.

“And I am not at all his sort?” Rhoda rejoined, with a smile. “Well, perhaps that is so; but you wanted Kate—”

“I am Kate Marvin,” said another voice, and the girl to whom Denis had talked by the glacier advanced. “You are Denis Aylward. Until a few moments ago I did not know you had arrived.”

“Mr. Marvin was engaged with some letters, and as I did not want to bother him, I thought I’d look for Mrs. Marvin.”

“Mother is engaged with some baking. At the ranch we are an industrious lot; but Rhoda and I have not yet got busy. Let’s go to the porch.”

The veranda was cool and commanded a noble view, and Denis was satisfied to rest in an easy-chair. He thought Miss Marvin studied him and Miss Staines was amused. Perhaps his arriving like a tramp was something of a joke.

“You are tired,” said Rhoda in a sympathetic voice. “The trail is rather dreadful, and I suppose you were forced to camp under the trees.”

“My camp was a success. My breakfast in the rain was not, and soon afterwards I got badly entangled in the rocks. The only way out was an awkward ravine.”

“Then, you came down Hemlock Creek?” said Kate, with some surprise. “Before the trail was cut, the rocks bothered experienced packers who sometimes crossed the bench. You, of course, were not loaded, but you carried a big coat.”

“There was the trouble,” Denis agreed. “The coat is not very good, but I have no other, and it looks as if the railroad has lost my trunk.”

“Well, where did you stop for the next night? The rain was heavy.”

“In the evening I made a trail-cutters’ camp. They were a hospitable lot and gave me a first-class supper.”

“Then, you liked your supper? You are not fastidious!”

Denis’s eyes twinkled. He saw where Miss Marvin led.

“The food was good, and they gave me the best they had. Then, although it is perhaps not important, I liked the men. Their talk was interesting.”