CHAPTER I – A FRIEND IN NEED
A light breeze was blowing down the inlet, scented with the smell of the firs, and the tiny ripples it chased across the water splashed musically against the bows of the canoe. There was a thud as the blade struck the water, and the long, light hull forged onwards with slightly lifted, bird’s-head prow, while the two men swung forward for the next stroke with a rhythmic grace of motion. They knelt, facing forward, in the bottom of the craft; and dissimilar as they were in features and, to some extent, in character, the likeness between them was stronger than the difference. Both bore the unmistakable stamp of a wholesome life spent in vigorous labour in the open. Their eyes were clear, and like those of most bushmen singularly steady; their skin was weather-darkened, and they were leanly muscular.
On either side of the lane of green water giant firs, Cedars and balsams, crept down the rocky hills to the whitened driftwood fringe. They formed part of the great coniferous forest which rolls westwards from the wet coast range of Canada’s Pacific province, and, overleaping the Strait, spreads across the rugged and beautiful wilderness of Vancouver Island. Ahead, clusters of little frame houses showed up here and there in openings among the trees, and a small sloop, towards which the canoe was heading, lay anchored near the wharf.
The men had plied the paddle during most of that day, from inclination rather than necessity, because they could have hired Siwash Indians to undertake the labour for them, had they been so minded. They were, though their appearance did not suggest it, moderately prosperous; but their prosperity was of recent date, and they had been accustomed to doing everything for themselves, as are most of the men who dwell among the woods and ranges of British Columbia.
Vane, who knelt nearest the bows, was twenty-seven years of age, and he had spent nine of them chopping trees, driving cattle, poling canoes, and assisting in the search for useful minerals among the snow-clad ranges. He wore a wide, grey felt hat which had lost its shape from frequent wettings, an old shirt of the same colour, and blue duck trousers, rent in places; but the light attire revealed a fine muscular symmetry. He had brown hair and brown eyes, and a certain warmth of colouring which showed through the deep bronze of his skin hinted at a sanguine and somewhat impatient temperament.
His companion, Carroll, had lighter hair and grey eyes, and his appearance was a little less vigorous and a little more refined, though he, too, had toiled hard and borne many privations in the wilderness. His dress resembled Vane’s. The two had located a valuable mineral property some months earlier, and though this does not invariably follow, had held their own against city financiers during the negotiations that preceded the floating of a company to work the mine. That they had succeeded in securing a good deal of the stock was largely due to Vane’s pertinacity, and said something for his acumen; but both had been trained in a very hard school.
As the wooden houses ahead rose higher and the sloop’s grey hull grew into sharper shape upon the clear green shining of the brine, Vane broke into a snatch of song.
“Had I the wings of a dove, I would fly,
Just for to-night, to the Old Country.”
He stopped and laughed. “It’s nine years since I’ve seen it, but I can’t get those lines out of my head. Perhaps it’s because of the girl who sang them. Somehow, I felt sorry for her. She had remarkably fine eyes.”
“Sea-blue,” said his companion. “I don’t grasp the connection between the last two remarks.”
“Neither do I,” Vane admitted. “I suppose there isn’t one. But they weren’t sea-blue, unless you mean the depth of indigo, when you’re out of sounding. They’re Irish eyes.”
“You’re not Irish. There’s not a trace of the Celt in you, unless it’s your habit of getting indignant with the folks who don’t share your views.”
“No, sir,” answered Vane. “By birth, I’m North Country – England, I mean. Over there, we’re respectable before everything, and smart at getting hold of whatever’s worth having. As a matter of fact, you Ontario Scotsmen are mighty like us.”
“You certainly came out well ahead of those city men who put up the dollars,” said Carroll. “I guess it’s in the blood, though I fancied they would take the mine from you.”
Vane brought his paddle down with a thud. “‘Just for to-night, to the Old Country,’” he hummed, and added: “It sticks to one.”
“Why did you leave the Old Country?”
“That’s a blamed injudicious question to ask, but you shall have an answer. There was a row at home – I was a sentimentalist then and just eighteen – and as the result of it I came out to Canada.” His voice changed and grew softer. “I hadn’t many relatives, and except one sister, they’re all gone now. That reminds me – she’s not going to lecture for the county education authorities any longer.”
The sloop was close ahead, and, slackening the paddling they ran alongside. Vane glanced at his watch when they had climbed on board.
