On reaching the Landing Andrew learned that Frobisher had returned and he rowed across to visit him. It was evening when he disembarked at the little pier. Geraldine came down across the lawn, and Andrew's heart beat fast as he watched her. She was wonderfully graceful, he thought, her white summer dress and light hat became her, there was a tinge of color in her face, and she was obviously eager to hear his news. She gave him a quick glance before they met, and then smiled in cordial welcome, for the man's expression was suggestive. He had lost his strained and anxious look, there was now an assured tranquillity in his bearing; he had not come back disappointed, and, for his sake, she rejoiced at this. Then as she gave him her hand and noticed the eager light in his eyes she grew suddenly disturbed.

"You have been successful; I'm very glad," she said.

"Yes," responded Andrew, holding her hand; "things have gone well with us, but except for the mineral recorder you are the first person I've told the good news to. That strikes me as particularly appropriate."

"Why?"

"I don't suppose I'd ever have found the lode if you hadn't encouraged me. I felt daunted once or twice. Then I ventured to think that you'd be interested."

"I am interested," Geraldine assured him, gently withdrawing her hand. "You needn't doubt that. But won't you come up to the house?"

Andrew laughed with a trace of awkwardness as he realized that he had been standing at the top of the uncomfortably narrow steps by which one reached the pier.

"It might be better, if you and Mr. Frobisher are not engaged."

"He's writing letters, though I think he'll have finished soon. Wherever he is, he's generally busy; but I can answer for his being glad to see you."

"That's good to hear. I'm heavily in your father's debt; but I'd like to think he's not the only one in the family to feel the pleasure."

Geraldine smiled at him mockingly.

"How delightfully formal, Mr. Allinson! Besides, you seem to need a good deal of assuring."

"A fair shot," Andrew laughed. "I'm afraid, when I'm really in earnest, I'm apt to be stilted; but perhaps it isn't an altogether unusual fault. The correct light touch seems hard to acquire."

"Not stilted; that's too harsh. Now and then you're rather too serious."

Looking at her steadily, he saw amusement in her eyes, but he had not wit enough to read all it covered and he felt slightly chilled. The girl knew his love for her and had thought of him often and anxiously in his absence; but now that he had come back safe and successful she was seized by a strange timidity. She shrank from the drastic change in their relations which his attitude threatened; he must be kept at a distance until she had become more used to the situation.

"It's very possible. Wouldn't it be pleasanter here?" he hinted, as they approached a seat which stood in the shadow of the firs. "We might disturb your father by going in."

"Yes," Geraldine assented, somewhat dubiously, though the house, which faced the west, was uncomfortably hot.

They sat down and she glanced at him unobtrusively. She was now very cool and free from embarrassment, while the man seemed to be suffering from constraint. Moreover, he looked disappointed, and she felt sorry for him.

"So you found the lode and recorded your claims?" she said. "That must have been a great relief; but what will you do next?"

Andrew grew impatient. He would have preferred to discuss something more personal than his mining affairs.

"Oh," he exclaimed, "you must have heard enough about the lode to make you tired of it! However, I expect I shall have to go back to England before long."

Geraldine wondered whether the curt announcement was meant to alarm her, and decided that it was not. The man was too modest to make sure of her affection for him. Nevertheless it caused her some concern.

"Will it be a visit, or do you think of staying there?" she asked.

"I can't tell," said Andrew moodily. "If I can get things straightened up, I may come back to the new mine; but I shall not know until I arrive."

"Do you wish to come back?"

"Yes," he answered emphatically, "very much indeed."

"Then you will no doubt find an excuse for doing so. It shouldn't be difficult to a fertile mind."

"Unfortunately, mine often seems to suffer from sterility. It has been subjected to stimulating influences here, and I'll miss them on the other side."

"If needful, couldn't you take Carnally with you?" Geraldine spoke with a touch of raillery.

"Carnally's useful, as far as he goes, but I'm not sure that he'd be much help in England; and he's not the only person I've, so to speak, come to lean on."

Geraldine regarded him with faint amusement.

"Then perhaps it's better that all outside support should be withdrawn and you learned to stand on your own feet. Don't you think you could do so, if you made an effort?"

"It's possible; I've no doubt I'll have to try. But when it's been generously given, one gets into a habit of looking for help and applause."

"That's unfortunate. Criticism's much more bracing. I'm afraid you haven't had enough of it."

"Haven't I?" said Andrew. "I got nothing else at home, and it's damping to have somebody always ready to point out how much better you might have managed things. If I do any good when I get back it will be because of the encouragement I've had here."

"That's a very poor reason. You ought to do what you intend because you feel it's right."

"No doubt," said Andrew with a stern smile. "Still, you see, it needs a good deal of nerve."

Geraldine mused for a few moments. He had played up to her, as she thought of it, but in his half-humorous manner there had been a touch of gravity, and she knew what her commendation had been worth to him. She was glad that he valued it, but she could not have him guess this, and she shrank from showing too much earnestness.

"Well," she said, "the mail must be sent across to the Landing soon; I'd better tell my father."

She got up, and a few minutes afterward Frobisher appeared and took Andrew to his smoking-room. When they had talked for a while, Andrew took out a few specimens.

"So far as we were able," he said, "we picked out the best of the lode, but I believe much of the ore is of excellent quality. I brought you these specimens to look at, and the assayer's report on those we sent him after the first trip."

Frobisher examined them with care.

"A good business proposition; this stuff should pay for smelting. I suppose you realize that your knowledge of the locality is valuable?"

"That's what I am coming to. If the thing's in your line, any information I can give you is at your service."

"Ah!" said Frobisher. "Let us understand each other. Do you want to sell?"

"Not to you. We have staked three claims, which is all we can legally hold, and our records were only filed an hour and a half ago. By using my map of our route and a sketch of the vein, you or anybody you may send could reach the spot and have some days for prospecting before anybody else could find it."

"Then you're offering me this out of friendship?"

"Not altogether. I don't forget that you saved us from starving; but apart from that, I'd rather have somebody I know as owner of an adjacent claim. You'll excuse my saying that I can't tolerate Mappin there. I understand it isn't difficult to get up disputes over boundaries and water-rights, and he'd find some means of attacking us."

"You're wise, and I appreciate your generosity. There's every reason to believe you have put me on to a good thing. But I'm getting too old to make the journey, and there's no time to be lost. The trouble is to fix on the right men to send, because they'll have to be reliable. I know two or three boys in Colorado who would see the thing through, but it would take a week to bring them here and only a British subject can file a record."

He broke off and sat silent a few moments. "I have it!" he exclaimed. "There's a fellow at the Landing who, I think, would deal honestly; but he must get off with some packers to-morrow. If you'll excuse me, I'll go across."

Andrew went to a writing-table and hastily filled up a sheet of paper; then took a map from his pocket and wrote some directions on the back of it.

"Here's an order on Watson at the mine for any provisions and tools he can supply. It will save your men some transport and that means a quicker journey. Now listen carefully for a minute."

"Thanks," said Frobisher, when he had finished, and left him on the word.

Andrew laughed as he sat down to finish his cigar. The American's promptness was characteristic, and he was glad to feel that he had been of some service to him.

When he went out he found Geraldine on the lawn.

"What have you told my father?" she asked. "He ran past me without speaking and nearly fell into the water as he jumped on board the launch. I can't remember having seen him go so fast."

"Perhaps it's not surprising. I told Mr. Frobisher about the lode and where the best locations were."

"The information ought to be valuable. The ore is rich, isn't it?"

"I think so, but of course it isn't mine to give away. All I did was to give your father some information which should help him to find it before anybody else. He means to send up a prospecting party at once."

Geraldine pondered this. The man was too modest to make much of the affair, but her father's eager haste had its significance. His judgment on business matters was unusually good, and she had no doubt that the minerals were worth locating. It was, however, more important that Andrew had been able to place him under an obligation, because, in a sense, his power to confer a favor proved his value. She had believed in him from the first, but it was pleasant to feel that others must recognize his merits.

"Well," she said, smiling, "you have made some progress in his esteem. He's inclined to judge people by what they have done, and you have found a rich mine."

"Wouldn't it be fairer to judge them by what they would like to do? It's often better than the other."

"Oh, no! Liking's easy; one often gets no farther. Accomplishment is hard, but it counts."

Strolling to the beach, they found a seat on the pier. There was not a breath of wind and the languid ripples splashed softly on the shingle. Near the land the dark shadow of the pines floated on the glassy water, but farther out it gleamed with silvery light. To the west the black rocks and ragged trees cut sharp against a glow of vivid green. Andrew was silent for a while. Geraldine had quietly checked him whenever he bordered on the sentimental, and it was disconcerting, though he felt that it would be wiser to make no effort to come to closer quarters until she tacitly gave him encouragement.

"What a beautiful country this is!" he said at length, feeling that the topic was safe.

"Yes," answered Geraldine, "it is beautiful and rugged, very different from your well-cared-for England, and I suppose it gets wilder as you travel north."

"It's the wildness that gets hold of one. I don't know when I was so happy as I was when hauling the canoe over portages, tracking her up rapids, and blowing rocks to bits. There must be a primitive strain in us that shows itself in the waste."

"It may be useful now and then, but indulging it doesn't make for progress. Even our Indians have found that out, and those who still cling to their primitive customs live miserably in skin tepees by catching fish. I dare say any of them could take a canoe up a rapid better than you."

"There's no doubt of that," Andrew responded. "But I don't see your drift."

"One gets impatient now and then with the cult of the physical, which they're so proud of here. It's good in a way, but it doesn't lead to much. For example, you can't continue finding valuable claims, and there must be something for you to do besides drilling holes for dynamite."

"Shooting pheasants is easier," Andrew smiled; "I can't say it's more useful."

"And is there nothing else?"

Andrew grew suddenly thoughtful.

"I'll confess to a hazy idea that if I succeeded in straightening up the Allinson affairs, I'd retire from the business while my laurels were fresh, and turn miner. The claims will need attention, and it would be more in my line than the management of the firm."

"You mean you would like it better?"

"I'm beginning to understand." Andrew looked at her gravely. "If anybody else had hinted as much, I'd have felt it was exacting and I was being driven too hard. With you it's different. Once or twice already you have given me the impetus I needed, and you're right now. But if I'm not required by Allinson's why shouldn't I attend to the claims?"

Looking up he saw the launch, which had rounded a neighboring islet, heading for the pier, and shortly afterward Frobisher joined them.

"I've got everything fixed," he said jubilantly. "Three men will start at sunrise. But you look as if you had been discussing something important. What's it all about?"

"Give us your opinion, Father. Mr. Allinson seems to think he can make a few drastic reforms in his firm, and then leave such matters alone. My idea is that he will find it harder than he expected."

Frobisher laughed with quiet amusement.

"Mr. Allinson has still a good deal to learn and I'm afraid he's much mistaken in this matter." He turned to Andrew. "Once you take an active interest in a big business you'll find you can't let go. Instead of your directing the concern, it will come to own and drive you unmercifully hard. For the last ten years I've been trying to take life easier and escape from the pressure of affairs, but I'm still a long way from doing so. In fact, in spite of my good resolutions, it's only an hour since I launched out on another new venture."

"Isn't it largely a matter of temperament?" Andrew asked.

"No doubt; but not quite in the way you think – that is, it's not always a question of making money. If a man has what we'll call the constructive genius, he can't stand and look on when he sees anything that needs to be done. He feels that he must take his coat off and get to work."

Andrew had an uncomfortable feeling that Geraldine and her father were right. One thing led to another, and he might be drawn irresistibly into a long series of business complications, which was by no means what he had at first contemplated. Nevertheless, if his services were of any value, Allinson's had the first claim on them. He dismissed the matter when Frobisher suggested that they go in to supper. Frobisher was witty, Geraldine charmingly cordial, and it was with regret that Andrew took his leave. Geraldine walked to the pier with him and he noticed a gentleness in her face that set his heart to beating. He thought the soft dusk emphasized her beauty by etherealizing it. When they reached the steps she turned to him with a smile.

"I feel as if I'd presumed too far," she said. "After all, I'm only a girl and younger than you are, which doesn't seem to justify my imposing my half-formed views on you."

"I don't think that matters," returned Andrew. "I believe those views are right."

"Then, though you had better test them thoroughly, you don't feel offended?"

"I am grateful; but there's one point that disturbs me. I shouldn't like to think you were reconciled to the idea of getting rid of me."

Geraldine smiled at him.

"That would be a wrong conclusion. If it's any comfort, we shall miss you; but it isn't such a very long journey from England to the Lake of Shadows. You will find it needful to come over and see how the mines are working now and then."

"Whether the mines need me or not, I shall come."

She gave him her hand.

"We'll consider it a promise; but you're not going yet, and you needn't neglect us before you start."

When she turned away Andrew got into his canoe and paddled back to the Landing. He had, he felt, been firmly held off at arm's length, but for all that he had noticed faint hints of tenderness in the girl's manner which were highly encouraging, and she undoubtedly took a strong interest in him. He must proceed cautiously and avoid alarming her by being precipitate. That, after all, was the course he preferred, for he was strangely diffident in love.

A day or two later he saw Turner in the bar at the hotel, where several others were lounging; but the man gave him a careless greeting. Andrew went into the lobby and Turner presently sauntered in.

"Can you come down to the beach behind the sawmill dump in a few minutes?" he asked.

Andrew nodded, and when Turner went out he put some bills into his wallet and made for the beach. It was a quiet place, hidden between a rocky head and a bank of sawdust, and Turner was waiting for him.

"I suppose you have come for the money I promised you?" Andrew said.

"That's not the only thing, though I'd be glad to have it."

Andrew counted out several bills.

"I didn't want to be seen talking to you at the hotel," Turner explained. "It mightn't have been safe for me if Mappin got to hear of it. But there's something you ought to know. The boys he sent after you heard about the strike you made when they came down here for grub, and are on the trail again."

"I don't see how that matters. When Mappin's rascals reach the lode they'll find we have staked off the best, and it looks as if every man about the settlement who can get away is going up to prospect."

"Those fellows," persisted Turner, "are old hands at the game. I don't know their plans, but there's one thing you can depend on – they mean to make trouble. They might shift some of your stakes and then claim that your record wasn't correct, which would give Mappin a chance of getting after you. It takes a smart surveyor to lay out boundaries and frontage in such a way that they can't be questioned. I want to warn you to be on the lookout."

Andrew considered. He knew there was sometimes litigation over mineral claims, and he had to deal with a clever and unscrupulous man.

"I wonder why you told me this?"

"You treated me like a white man," Turner answered with a trace of awkwardness, and then broke into a grin. "Besides, I was getting tired of the business, anyhow; there wasn't a dollar in it for me. Now I guess I'll light out before somebody comes along."

Andrew thanked him, and then went off in search of Carnally, feeling glad that he had treated Turner leniently. The man was a rogue, but he had the virtue of gratitude.

CHAPTER XXIX
THE JUMPERS

The sun was rising when Joe Thorpe made a hasty breakfast with his two companions in their camp beside the lode. He was a logger by profession, though he had an extensive experience in prospecting for timber-rights and minerals. Big Joe was known as an honest man; that was why Frobisher had selected him to stake off a claim, and he had arrived late on the previous night after a forced march.

"We ought to have a clear day or two before the first of the crowd that's following us comes in, but that's all," he said. "We want to get our prospecting done and the best locations picked before the rush begins, and we'll start as soon as you've finished."

"I'll be through in a minute," said one of the others with his mouth full. "It's a pretty fair deal Frobisher made with us and he's not the man to go back on one."

"That's more than I'd say of Mappin," remarked the third of the party. "He's in this somehow, isn't he? What was it Carnally said to you when we were getting ready to start, Joe?"

"Told me to watch out for the Mappin crowd. It seems Mappin's put Scaith, who made the trouble over the Newark timber-rights, on to the job. The fellow's a crook, and two of the others have been mixed up in jumping rows. Now we like Carnally, and he allowed he was on to a good thing in the Allinson claims. Anyhow, Watkins, you've had enough for one man. Let up on the pork and bring along the drill."

They set to work, and it was late in the afternoon when, stripped to shirt and trousers and dripping with perspiration, Joe stopped for a few moments to look about. Thirty feet behind him the creek swirled furiously around a rocky head, the steep face of which was fumed and scarred by giant-powder. A stake was driven into the crest of the promontory, another could be seen a short distance back, and straggling jack-pines and spruces followed the edge of the bank. The ground had been disturbed all round and was strewn with piles of soil and stones.

"I guess the Allinson outfit know their business," he observed. "It looks a curious way to pitch a claim, but if you come to figure out the thing, it gives them the best frontage they could get. This corner post's just where I'd have put it. If they'd located it a bit to the right, it would have swung their line off the richest stuff. There's no room for us here on pay dirt: we'll move higher up."

He took a few steps forward but stopped suddenly at a sharp crash followed by a puff of vapor that curled up among the rocks ahead. Great fragments leaped out of it, and Joe ran for his life as one large piece that turned over as it sped came toward him. It fell short with a heavy thud and he swung around angrily.

"What in thunder are you firing two sticks for where you weren't told?" he cried.

"Watkins likes a big charge," grinned his companion. "He's surely rough on giant-powder."

The third man came toward them and explained.

"That blamed Allinson corner post shoves us back, and I wanted to see if we could squeeze in a block beside them and keep on the ore, though I guess there's not much use in it. If I was a jumper, I'd shift that stake."

"You can't do it!" Joe replied promptly. "We're acting square! But when the fumes have cleared, we'll look at what you've got."

The examination confirmed his opinion that they were shut out by the Allinson claim, which must be respected, and they moved farther up the lode. It was dusk when they stopped work, and they spent the following morning digging holes and firing shots before deciding on their locations. These they roughly marked with piles of stones, but there were distances to be carefully measured and bearings verified before their stakes were driven, and while they were getting dinner another party arrived. The men were ragged and weary, and the appearance of several was far from prepossessing.

"There's Scaith and Nepigon Jim," Watkins exclaimed. "Brought four other fellows with them. They're a tough-looking crowd."

The newcomers lighted a fire, and while they prepared a meal their leader strolled across to the other camp. He was a short, wiry man, with keen eyes.

"Well, Joe," he said, "you've been over the ground; what's it like?"

"Pretty good," Joe answered. "The Allinson gang got first pick and we've had the next, but there's plenty pay dirt left. I suppose you're up here for Mappin? You want to keep off our blocks."

"Sure we will," said the other genially. "We'll take a look round after grub and see where we can begin. You got away from the Landing mighty smart."

"We wanted to keep ahead of the crowd. I suppose the boys were getting ready when you left?"

"They were quitting work all round the settlement; one or two outfits would get off soon after us. We made pretty good time over the Allinson trail. But I guess our dinner's ready."

He moved away and Joe turned to his companions with a meaning glance.

"That's a man who'll want some watching," he warned them.

During the afternoon he and the others drove in their stakes, and there was apparently nothing to prevent their return to record the claims, but Joe declared that he was tired and they would not get far enough before dark to make it worth while to start. Accordingly, they lounged in camp while the newcomers wandered about the neighborhood, testing the ground. It struck Joe as suspicious that they seemed to find it necessary to cross the Allinson claims very frequently. Toward evening the sky grew overcast and rain began to fall, but Joe's camp was sheltered, and when it grew cold after supper they made a bigger fire.

"Some of the boys from the settlement should get through by morning, and they're a straight crowd," Joe said. "We'll take the trail first thing after breakfast."

A raw wind sprang up, the rain got heavier, and dusk fell early; but when the others went to sleep Joe sat up a while. He had done what he had been sent to do and would receive a good reward for it, besides retaining an interest in the claims when Frobisher took them over after the development work had been done. The thought of it excited him, but after a while he laid his blanket in a hollow and went to sleep.

It was, however, not sound sleep, for every now and then he opened his eyes, and at last raised himself to a sitting position and looked about. The fire had burned very low, so that its light did not dazzle him, and he could see the shadowy trunks that ran up into the gloom. Heavy drops fell among the red embers, the wind wailed dolefully about the branches, and he could hear the rain beat upon the stones. Though it was darker than usual, the sky was visible and rocks and trees stood out black against the surrounding obscurity. Knowing that he had a long march before him, Joe felt irritated because of his restlessness; but as he did not feel at all sleepy he lighted his pipe and began to think of his return journey.

Presently Scaith's camp-fire caught his eye. It was burning brightly, which seemed to indicate that the party had sat up very late or that somebody had risen and thrown on fresh fuel. This struck him as curious, and he watched the flickering glow. Before he had smoked out his pipe he imagined that he saw a blurred figure among the smoke. It vanished, though he did not think the fellow had left the camp. He sat for a few minutes, pondering the matter. Although they had given him no reason for doing so, he suspected Scaith's party and felt uneasy, wishing that the night were clearer. Large objects were faintly distinguishable, but Joe did not think he could see a man except at a very short distance, and the wind among the spruce tops would prevent his hearing footsteps. It was raining very hard, trickles of water ran down the trunks, and cold draughts eddied about him. He would be more comfortable lying down under his blanket but he was troubled by vague suspicions and felt that he must keep watch.

At last he got up and picked his way toward the newly staked claims. The ground was rough and he fell over a heap of stones, but he reflected that the darkness which prevented his seeing anything would also prevent his being seen. He had flung his blanket over his shoulders, and though it impeded his movements it kept him drier. He wandered about for some time before he could find the first stake, but it was easier afterward because he knew the line and had only to count his paces. The other posts were all in their proper positions; it looked as if he had wasted his pains, for no attempt had been made to tamper with the boundaries.

This was satisfactory, but Joe did not feel quite at ease. He wished that some of the other parties from the Landing had arrived, because he knew the men, and knew that they would keep a keen lookout for any trickery. Claim-jumping is sternly discountenanced by honest miners, who are apt to deal with the jumpers in a drastic manner. Joe, however, could not delay his departure. The filing of an application form in the recorder's office is the first proof a discoverer of minerals can advance of his right to them.

He stopped a few moments by the last stake, feeling that he could now return to camp, but still irresolute. It would be dark for some time yet and mischief might be on foot. Then it dawned on him that the Allinson claims would be better worth attacking than his, and he moved toward the corner post, which was the key to their position. Their safety was no direct concern of his, and he was getting wet; but Carnally was his friend and Allinson was held in much esteem at the Landing as a just and considerate employer. With difficulty he found the post, which seemed to have been undisturbed; but he felt suspicious and reluctant to leave the spot. Finding a hollow to lee of a rock, he sat down.

For a while nothing disturbed him. He could hear the creek roaring among the stones below, for the steep edge of the bank was only a few yards away. Scaith's fire glowed in the distance, and the rain blew in sheets past the edge of his shelter. Joe thought he was foolish for waiting, but he stayed. Then all at once a dim figure was outlined against the sky only a few paces from him.

Joe had heard nobody approach and he was startled; but the next moment he became cool and intent. A man was moving toward the Allinson corner post. He had his hands on it when Joe sprang forward. But he was too late to surprise the fellow. Joe closed with him in a savage grapple; but he could not throw him, and glancing sideways at a sound, he saw that he would shortly have to deal with a second enemy. Another man was running hard toward them.

It was obvious that he would be overpowered unless he could disable the fellow he had seized before his confederate arrived; and with a tense effort he drove him backward. Clutching each other, they staggered a few yards through the darkness, until Joe felt the ground slant sharply beneath his feet. Then, using all his force, he flung off his adversary. The man disappeared and there was a splash in the creek below. Then Joe turned breathlessly to meet the other man.

He was near at hand, but, instead of attacking him, the fellow stopped and cried out. This, however, did not trouble Joe, because the shout would bring his companions upon the scene as well as the other party. Moving cautiously in search of clearer ground on which to meet the rush he expected, his foot caught in his blanket, which had fallen off, and he swiftly picked it up. He had hardly done so when the fellow ran at him, and Joe, meeting him with a staggering blow, flung the heavy blanket over his head. He stumbled, unable to see, and Joe, leaping upon him, bore him to the ground. There he had the advantage of being uppermost; and, getting his knee on the other's chest, managed to hold him down. This was satisfactory, so far as it went, but he did not know what to do with his captive, and shouts now broke out in the darkness. The rest of Scaith's friends were evidently coming to the rescue, but he could hear Watkins' voice, and wondered anxiously which would arrive first.