The Gold Trail by Harold Bindloss Read Free Book Online Page B

fragile, two-seated frame bounced and lurched into and out of deep ruts, and over the split trees that had been laid flat-side downward in the quaggy places-like a field gun going into action was the best comparison Weston could think of. The horses, however, kept their feet, and the wheels held fast. Once, when a jolt nearly pitched him from his seat, Stirling laughed.
    "After the city it's a relief to let them out," he said. "I did this kind of thing for a living once. The mine was way back in the bush, leagues from anywhere, and I hired out as special store and despatch carrier. There was red-hot trouble unless I got through on time when the mail came in."
    He drove the team furiously at an unguarded log bridge which was barely wide enough to let the wheels pass.
    "It's quite a way to the lake yet, and we want to make the camp before it's dark," he explained. "Know anything about sailing a boat?"
    Weston said that he did, and Stirling nodded.
    "That's good," he observed somewhat dryly, "so does the major man."
    Weston ventured to smile at this, and once more his employer's eyes twinkled.
    "Some of you people from the old country are quite hard to amuse; though I'm open to admit that we have a few of the same kind on this side," he said. "My daughter seemed to fancy they wouldn't find a lake camp quite right without a boat, so I sent along and bought one at Toronto. Had her put on a flat car, and hired half the teams in the district to haul her to the lake. Now, I guess there are men in this country who, if they wanted a boat, would just take an ax and whipsaw and build one out of the woods."
    Weston laughed. He was commencing to understand the man better, for he had met other men of Stirling's description in Canada. As a matter of fact, they are rather common in the Dominion, men who have had very little bestowed on them beyond the inestimable faculty of getting what they want at the cost of grim self-denial and tireless labor. Still, as it was in Stirling's case, some of them retain a whimsical toleration for those of weaker fiber.
    "It's a bush camp?" Weston asked.
    Stirling smiled good-humoredly.
    "They call it that," he said. "It cost me quite a few dollars. You'll see when you get there."
    Weston was somewhat relieved when they safely accomplished the first stage of the journey, and, turning the team over to a man by the waterside, paddled off to a big, half-decked boat beautifully built and fitted in Toronto. Stirling, who admitted that he knew nothing about such matters, sat down aft and lighted a cigar, while Weston proceeded to get the tall gall mainsail and big single headsail up. He was conscious that his companion was watching him closely, and when he let go the moorings and seated himself at the tiller the latter pointed up the lake.
    "About a league yet-round that long point," he said.
    A moderately fresh breeze came down across the pines, and when Weston, getting in the sheet, headed her close up to it, the boat, slanting sharply, leaped forward through the smooth water. He sat a little farther to windward, and the slant of deck decreased slightly when Stirling did the same.
    "You can't head there straight?" the latter asked.
    "No," said Weston, "not with the wind as it is. She'll lie no higher."
    "Well," observed Stirling, "she's going, anyway. That pleases me. It helps one to get rid of the city. We'll have a talk, in the meanwhile. I sent for you before. Why didn't you come?"
    It was somewhat difficult to answer, and Weston wrinkled his forehead, stiffening his grasp on the tiller.
    "I was fortunate enough to be of some little service to Miss Stirling's friends on the range, and I fancied that because of it you meant to offer me promotion of some kind," he said.
    "Well?" queried Stirling, with his eyes fixed on his companion's face.
    Weston hesitated. He could not very well tell this man that a vein of probably misguided pride rendered him unwilling to accept a favor from Ida Stirling's father.
    "I don't