Thurston of Orchard Valley

"But that gentleman has my ticket, and doesn't know my address!" protested the unfortunate passenger, and the purser answered:

"I really cannot help it, but I will telegraph to any of your friends from the first way-port we call at, madam."

When the steamer had vanished behind the stately pines shrouding the Narrows, English Jim sat down upon a timber-head and swore a little at what he called his luck, before he uneasily recounted the folded papers in his wallet.

"A pretty mess I've made of it all, and there'll be no end of trouble if Thurston hears of this," he said aloud, so that a loafing porter heard and grinned. "I'll write a humble letter – but, confound it, I don't know where she's going to, and now here is one of those distressful tracings missing. It must have been that old sketch of Savine's, and Thurston will never want it, while nobody but a draughtsman could make head or tail of the thing. Anyway, I'll get some dinner before I decide what is best to be done."

While Gillow endeavored to enjoy his dinner, and, being an easy-going man, partially succeeded, Millicent, who had picked up a folded paper, leaned upon the steamer's rail with it open in her hand.

"This is Greek to me, but I suppose it is of value. I will keep it, and perhaps give it back to Geoffrey," she ruminated. "The game was amusing, but I feel horribly mean, and whether I shall tell Harry or not depends very much upon his behavior."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BURSTING OF THE SLUICE

One morning of early summer, Geoffrey Thurston lay neither asleep, nor wholly awake, inside his double tent. The canvas was partly drawn open, and from his camp-cot he could see a streak of golden sunlight grow broader across the valley, while rising in fantastic columns the night mists rolled away. The smell of dew-damped cedars mingled with the faint aromatic odors of wood smoke. The clamor of frothing water vibrated through the sweet cool air, for the river was swollen by melted snow. Geoffrey lay still, breathing in the glorious freshness, drowsily content. All had gone smoothly with the works, at least, during the last month or two. Each time that she rode down to camp with her father from the mountain ranch, Helen had spoken to him with unusual kindness. Savine would, when well enough, spend an hour in Geoffrey's tent. While some of the contractor's suggestions were characterized by his former genius, most betrayed a serious weakening of his mental powers, and it was apparent that he grew rapidly frailer, physically.

On this particular morning Geoffrey found something very soothing in the river's song, and, yielding to temptation, he turned his head from the growing light to indulge in another half-hour's slumber. Suddenly, a discordant note, jarring through the deep-toned harmonies, struck his ears, which were quick to distinguish between the bass roar of the cañon and the higher-pitched calling of the rapid at its entrance. What had caused it he could not tell. He dressed with greatest haste and was striding down into the camp when Mattawa Tom and Gillow came running towards him.

"Sluice number six has busted, and the water's going in over Hudson's ranch," shouted Tom. "I've started all the men there's room for heaving dirt in, but the river's going through in spite of them."

Geoffrey asked no questions, but ran at full speed through the camp, shouting orders as he went, and presently stood breathless upon a tall bank of raw red earth. On one side the green-stained river went frothing past; on the other a muddy flood spouted through a breach, and already a shallow lake was spreading fast across the cleared land, licking up long rows of potato haulm and timothy grass. Men swarmed like bees about the sloping side of the bank, hurling down earth and shingle into the aperture, but a few moments' inspection convinced Geoffrey that more heroic measures were needed and that they labored in vain. Raising his hand, he called to the men to stop work and, when the clatter of shovels ceased, he quietly surveyed the few poor fields rancher Hudson had won from the swamp. His lips were pressed tight together, and his expression showed his deep concern.

"There's only one thing to be done. Open two more sluice gates, Tom," he commanded.

"You'll drown out the whole clearing," ventured the foreman, and Geoffrey nodded.

"Exactly! Can't you see the river will tear all this part of the dyke away unless we equalize the pressure on both sides of it? Go ahead at once and get it done."

The man from Mattawa wondered at the bold order, but his master demanded swift obedience and he proceeded to execute it, while Geoffrey stood fast watching two more huge sheets of froth leap out. He knew that very shortly rancher Hudson's low-level possessions would be buried under several feet of water.

"It's done, sir, and a blamed bad job it is!" said the foreman, returning; and Geoffrey asked: "How did it happen?"

"The sluice gate wasn't strong enough, river rose a foot yesterday, and she just busted. I was around bright and early and found her splitting. Got a line round the pieces – they're floating beneath you."

"Heave them up!" ordered Geoffrey.

He was obeyed, and for a few minutes glanced at the timber frame with a puzzled expression, then turning to Gillow, he said: "You know I condemned that mode of scarting, and the whole thing's too light. What carpenters made it?"

"It's one of Mr. Savine's gates, sir. I've got the drawing for it somewhere," was the answer, and Geoffrey frowned.

"Then you will keep that fact carefully to yourself," he replied. "It is particularly unfortunate. This is about the only gate I have not overhauled personally, but one cannot see to quite everything, and naturally the breakage takes place at that especial point."

"Very good, sir," remarked Gillow. "Things generally do happen in just that way. Here's rancher Hudson coming, and he looks tolerably angry."

The man who strode along the dyke was evidently infuriated, a fact which was hardly surprising, considering that he owned the flooded property. The workmen, who now leaned upon their shovels, waited for the meeting between him and their master in the expectation of amusement.

"What in the name of thunder do you mean by turning your infernal river loose on my ranch?" inquired the newcomer. Thurston rejoined:

"May I suggest that you try to master your temper and consider the case coolly before you ask any further questions."

"Consider it coolly!" shouted Hudson. "Coolly! when the blame water's washing out my good potatoes by the hundred bushel, and slooshing mud and shingle all over my hay. Great Columbus! I'll make things red hot for you."

"See here!" and there were signs that Thurston was losing his temper. "What we have done was most unfortunately necessary, but, while I regret it at least as much as you do, you will not be a loser financially. As soon as the river falls, we'll run off the water, measure up the flooded land, and pay you current price? for the crop at average acre yield. As you will thus sell it without gathering or hauling to market, it's a fair offer."

Most of the forest ranchers in that region would have closed with the offer forthwith, but there were reasons why the one in question, who was, moreover, an obstinate, cantankerous man, should seize the opportunity to harass Thurston.

"It's not half good enough for me," he said. "How'm I going to make sure you won't play the same trick again, while it's tolerably certain you can't keep on paying up for damage done forever. Then when you're cleaned out where'll I be? This scheme which you'll never put through's a menace to the whole valley, and – "

"You'll be rich, I hope, by that time, but if you'll confine yourself to your legitimate grievance or come along to my tent I'll talk to you," said Geoffrey. "If, on the other hand, you cast doubt upon my financial position or predict my failure before my men, I'll take decided measures to stop you. You have my word that you will be repaid every cent's worth of damage done, and that should be enough for any reasonable person."

"It's not – not enough for me by a long way," shouted the rancher. "I'll demand a Government inspection, I'll – I'll break you."

"Will you show Mr. Hudson the quickest and safest way off this embankment, Tom," requested Geoffrey, coolly, and there was laughter mingled with growls of approval from the men, as the irate rancher, hurling threats over his shoulder, was solemnly escorted along the dyke by the stalwart foreman. He turned before descending, and shook his fist at those who watched him.

"I think you can close the sluices," said Geoffrey, when the foreman returned. "Then set all hands filling in this hole. I want you, Gillow."

"We are going to have trouble," he predicted, when English Jim stood before him in his tent. "Hudson unfortunately is either connected with our enemies, or in their clutches, and he'll try to persuade his neighbors to join him in an appeal to the authorities. Send a messenger off at once with this telegram to Vancouver, but stay – first find me the drawing of the defective gate."

English Jim spent several minutes searching before he answered: "I'm sorry I can't quite lay my hands upon it. It may be in Vancouver, and I'll write a note to the folks down there."

He did so, and when he went out shook his head ruefully. "That confounded sketch must have been the one I lost on board the steamer," he decided with a qualm of misgiving. "However, there is no use meeting trouble half-way by telling Thurston so, until I'm sure beyond a doubt."

Some time had passed, and the greater portion of Hudson's ranch still lay under water when, in consequence of representations made by its owner and some of his friends, a Government official armed with full powers to investigate held an informal court of inquiry in the big store shed, at which most of the neighboring ranchers were present. Geoffrey and Thomas Savine, who brought a lawyer with him, awaited the proceedings with some impatience.

"I have nothing to do with any claim for damages. If necessary, the sufferers can appeal to the civil courts," announced the official. "My business is to ascertain whether, as alleged, the way these operations are conducted endangers the occupied, and unappropriated Crown lands in this vicinity. I am willing to hear your opinions, gentlemen, beginning with the complainants."

Rancher Hudson was the first to speak, and he said:

"No sensible man would need much convincing that it's mighty bad for growing crops to have a full-bore flood turned loose on them. What's the use of raising hay and potatoes for the river to wash away? And it's plain that what has just happened is going to happen again. Before Savine began these dykes the river spread itself all over the lower swamp; now the walls hold it up, and each time it makes a hole in them, our property's most turned into a lake. I'm neither farming for pleasure nor running a salmon hatchery."

There was a hum of approval from the speaker's supporters, whose possessions lay near the higher end of the valley, and dissenting growls from those whose boundaries lay below. After several of the ranchers from the lower valley had spoken the official said:

"I hardly think you have cited sufficient to convince an unprejudiced person that the works are a public danger. You have certainly proved that two holdings have been temporarily flooded, but the first speaker pointed out that this was because the river was prevented from spreading all over the lower end of the valley, as it formerly did. Now a portion of the district is already under cultivation, and even the area under crop exceeds that of the damaged plots by at least five acres to one."

There was applause from the men whose possessions had been converted into dry land, and Hudson rose, red-faced and indignant, to his feet again.

"Has Savine bought up the whole province, Government and all? That's what I'm wanting to know," he rejoined indignantly. "What is it we pay taxes to keep you fellows for? To look the other way when the rich man winks, and stand by seeing nothing while he ruins poor settlers' hard-won holdings? I'm a law-abiding man, I am, but I'm going to let nobody tramp on me."

A burst of laughter filled the rear of the building when one of Hudson's supporters pulled him down by main force, and held him fast, observing, "You just sit right there, and look wise instead of talking too much. I guess you've said enough already to mix everything up."

The official raised his hand. "I am here to ask questions and not answer them," he said. "Any more speeches resembling the last would be likely to get the inquirer into trouble. I must also remind Mr. Hudson that, after one inundation, he signed a document signifying his approval of the scheme, and I desire to ask him what has caused the change in his opinions."

Again there was laughter followed by a few derisive comments from the party favoring Thurston's cause, while one voice was audible above the rest, "Hudson's been buying horses. Some Vancouver speculator's check!"

The rancher, shaking off his follower's grasp, bounded to his feet, and glared at the men behind him. "I'll get square with some of you fellows later on," he threatened. Turning towards the officer, he went on: "Just because I'm getting tired of being washed out I've changed my mind. When he's had two crops ruined, a man begins to get uneasy about the third one – see?"

"It is a sufficient reason," answered the official. "Now, gentlemen, I gather that some of you have benefited by this scheme. If you have any information to give me, I shall be pleased to hear it."

Several men told how they had added to their holdings many acres of fertile soil, which had once been swamp, and the Crown official said:

"I am convinced that two small ranches have been temporarily inundated, and six or seven benefited. So much for that side of the question. I must now ascertain whether the work is carried out in the most efficient manner, and how many have suffered in minor ways by the contractors' willful neglect, as the petitioners allege."

Hudson and his comrades testified at length, but each in turn, after making the most of the accidental upset of a barrow-load of earth among their crops, or the blundering of a steer into a trench, harked back to the broken sluice. When amid some laughter they concluded, others who favored Savine described the precautions Thurston had taken. Then the inquirer turned over his papers, and Thomas Savine whispered to Geoffrey: "It's all in our favor so far, but I'm anxious about that broken sluice. It's our weak point, and he's sure to tackle it."

"Yes," agreed Geoffrey, whose face was strangely set. "I am anxious about it, too. Can you suggest anything I should do, Mr. Gray?"

The Vancouver lawyer, who had a long experience in somewhat similar disputes, hitched forward his chair. "Not at present," he answered. "I think with Mr. Savine that the question of the sluice gate may be serious. Allowances are made for unpreventable accidents and force of circumstances, but a definite instance of a wholly inefficient appliance or defective workmanship might be most damaging. It is particularly unfortunate it was framed timber of insufficient strength that failed."

Geoffrey made no answer, but Thomas Savine, who glanced at him keenly, fancied he set his teeth while the lawyer, turning to the official inquirer, said:

"These gentlemen have given you all the information in their power, and if you have finished with them, I would venture to suggest that any technical details of the work concern only Mr. Thurston and yourself."

There was a protest from the assembly, and the officer beckoned for silence before he answered:

"You gentlemen seem determined between you to conduct the whole case your own way. I was about to dismiss with thanks the neighboring landholders who have assisted me to the best of their ability."

With some commotion the store-shed was emptied of all but the official, his assistant, and Thurston's party. Beckoning to Geoffrey, the official held up before his astonished eyes a plan of the defective gate. "Do you consider the timbering specified here sufficient for the strain?" he asked. "I cannot press the question, but it would be judicious of you to answer it."

"No!" replied Geoffrey, divided between surprise and dismay.

The drawing was Savine's. He could recognize the figures upon it, but it had evidently been made when the contractor was suffering from a badly-clouded brain. The broken gate itself was damaging evidence, but this was worse, for a glance at the design showed him that the artificers who worked from it had, without orders even, slightly increased the dimensions. Any man with a knowledge of mechanical science would condemn it, but, while he had often seen Savine incapable of mental effort of late, this was the first serious blunder that he had discovered. The mistake, he knew, would be taken as evidence of sheer incapacity; if further inquiry followed, perhaps it would be published broadcast in the papers, and Geoffrey was above all things proud of his professional skill. Still, he had pledged his word to both his partner and his daughter, and there was only one course open to him, if the questions which would follow made it possible.

The lawyer, leaning forward, whispered to Thomas Savine, and then said aloud, "If that drawing is what it purports to be, it must have been purloined. May we ask accordingly how it came into your possession?"

"One of the complainants forwarded it to me. He said he – obtained – it," was the dry answer. "Under the circumstances, I hesitate to make direct use of it, but by the firm's stamp it appears genuine."

"That Mr. Savine could personally be capable of such a mistake as this is impossible on the face of it," said the inquirer's professional assistant. "It is the work of a half-trained man, and suggests two questions, Do you repudiate the plan, and, if you do not, was it made by a responsible person? I presume you have a draughtsman?"

"There is no use repudiating anything that bears our stamp," said Geoffrey, disregarding the lawyer's frown, and looking steadily into the bewildered face of Thomas Savine. "I work out all such calculations and make the sketches myself. My assistant sometimes checks them."

The official, who had heard of the young contractor's reputation for daring skill, looked puzzled as he commented:

"From what you say the only two persons who could have made the blunder are Mr. Savine and yourself. I am advised, and agree with the suggestion, that Mr. Savine could never have done so. From what I have heard, I should have concluded it would have been equally impossible with you; but I can't help saying that the inference is plain."

"Is not all this beside the question?" interposed the lawyer. "The junior partner admits the plan was made in the firm's offices, and that should be sufficient."

Geoffrey held himself stubbornly in hand while the officer answered that he desired to ascertain if it was the work of a responsible person. He knew that this blunder would be recorded against him, and would necessitate several brilliant successes before it could be obliterated, but his resolution never faltered, and when the legal adviser, laying a hand upon his arm, whispered something softly, he shook off the lawyer's grasp.

"The only two persons responsible are Mr. Savine and myself – and you suggested the inference was plain," he asserted.

Here Gillow, who had been fidgeting nervously, opened his lips as if about to say something, but closed them again when his employer, moving one foot beneath the table, trod hard upon his toe.

"I am afraid I should hardly mend matters by saying I am sorry it is," said the official, dryly. "However, a mistake by a junior partner does not prove your firm incapable of high-class work, and I hardly think you will be troubled by further interference after my report is made. My superiors may warn you – but I must not anticipate. It is as well you answered frankly, as, otherwise, I should have concluded you were endeavoring to make your profits at the risk of the community; but I cannot help saying that the admission may be prejudicial to you, Mr. Thurston, if you ever apply individually for a Government contract. Here is the drawing. It is your property."

Geoffrey stretched out his hand for it, but Savine was too quick for him, and when he thrust it into his pocket, the contractor, rising abruptly, stalked out of the room. Gillow, who followed and overtook him, said:

"I can't understand this at all, sir. Mr. Savine made that drawing. I know his arrows on the measurement lines, and I was just going to say so when you stopped me. I have a confession to make. I believe I dropped that paper out of my wallet on board the steamer."

"You have a very poor memory, Gillow," and Thurston stared the speaker out of countenance. "I fear your eyes deceive you at times as well. You must have lost it somewhere else. In any case, if you mention the fact to anybody else, or repeat that you recognise Mr. Savine's handiwork, I shall have to look for an assistant who does not lose the documents with which he is entrusted."

Gillow went away growling to himself, but perfectly satisfied with both his eyesight and memory. Thurston had hardly dismissed him than Thomas Savine approached, holding out the sketch.

"See here, Geoffrey," began the contractor's brother, and one glance at the speaker was sufficient for Thurston, who stopped him.

"Are you coming to torment me about that confounded thing? Give it to me at once," he said.

He snatched the drawing from Savine's hand, tore it into fragments, and stamped them into the mould. "Now that's done with at last!" he said.

"No," was the answer. "There's no saying where a thing like this will end, if public mischief-makers get hold of it. You have your future, which means your professional reputation, to think of. In all human probability my poor brother can't last very long, and this may handicap you for years. I cannot – "

"Damn my professional reputation! Can't you believe your ears?" Geoffrey broke in.

"I'm not blind yet, and would sooner trust my eyes," was the dry answer. "Nobody shall persuade me that I don't know my own brother's figures. There are limits, Geoffrey, and neither Helen nor I would hold our peace about this."

"Listen to me!" Geoffrey's face was as hard as flint. "I see I can't bluff you as easily as the Government man, but I give you fair warning that if you attempt to make use of your suspicions I'll find means of checkmating you. Just supposing you're not mistaken, a young man with any grit in him could live down a dozen similar blunders, and, if he couldn't, what is my confounded personal credit in comparison with what your brother has done for me and my promise to Miss Savine? So far as I can accomplish it, Julius Savine shall honorably wind up a successful career, and if you either reopen the subject or tell his daughter about the drawing, there will be war between you and me. That is the last word I have to say."

"I wonder if Helen knows the grit there is in that man," pondered Savine, when, seeing all protests were useless, he turned away, divided between compunction and gratitude. Neither he nor the lawyer succeeded in finding out how the drawing fell into hostile hands, while, if Geoffrey had his suspicions, he decided that it might be better not to follow them up.

CHAPTER XIX

THE ABDUCTION OF BLACK CHRISTY

These were weighty reasons why Christy Black, whose comrades reversed his name and called him Black Christy instead, remained in Thurston's camp as long as he did. Although a good mechanic, he was by no means fond of manual labor, and he had discovered that profitable occupations were open to an enterprising and not over-scrupulous man. On the memorable night when Thurston fished him out of the river, his rescuer had made it plain that he must earn the liberal wages that were promised to him. As a matter of fact, Black had made the most of his opportunities, and in doing so had brought himself under the ban of the law during an altercation over a disputed mineral claim.

Black, who then called himself by another name, disappeared before an inquiry as to how the body of one of the owners of the claim came into a neighboring river. Only one comrade, and a mine-floating speculator, who stood behind the humbler disputants, knew or guessed at the events which led up the fatality. The comrade shortly afterwards vanished, too, but the richer man, who had connived at Black's disappearance, kept a close hand on him, forcing him as the price of freedom to act as cat's-paw in risky operations, until Black, tired of tyranny, had been glad to tell Thurston part of the truth and to accept his protection. The man from whose grip he hoped he had escaped was the one who had helped Leslie out of a difficulty.