Northwest!. Bindloss Harold

is rather a good sort, but sometimes he bores one," Laura remarked carelessly. "Besides, after a time he's going to some friends in Colorado."

      Jimmy's heart beat. Although he was not yet Laura's lover, her charm was strong. Still he ought to get to work, and if he went to Puget Sound with Laura, he might not afterwards bother about the ranch. Well, perhaps the ranch was not important; if he wanted, he could, no doubt, sell the land.

      The clash of a locomotive bell, softened by the distance, echoed across the bush. A freight train had started from the water tank for the long climb to the pass and Jimmy felt the faint notes carried a message. Canada was a land of bells. At Montreal the locomotive bells rang all night; their tolling rolled across wide belts of wheat, and broke the silence that broods over the rocks. When all was quiet in the bush, the cow-bells rang sweet chimes. Perhaps Jimmy was romantic, but he felt the bells stood for useful effort, and now they called. The strange thing was, he thought he heard pine branches crack and Margaret's voice. "Oh, Buck! Oh, Bright!"

      "I'm sorry, but I can't go," he said. "I have bought the ranch and must get to work."

      Laura gave him a keen glance and got a jar. He frowned and his mouth was tight. She had thought she could move Jimmy, but now she doubted, and because she was proud she dared not try.

      "Oh, well," she said, "we have talked for some time, and Deering has left Jardine."

      She sent Jimmy off and looked about. Dillon talked to Margaret, and although Laura imagined a smile would detach him from the group, she did not smile. After all, if Frank joined her, Jimmy might occupy the chair he left. Laura crossed the terrace and joined a young Canadian.

      Jimmy sat down by the rancher and inquired: "Do you know the land I bought?"

      "The soil is pretty good, but the timber's thick and until ye work oot the turpentine, ye'll no' get much crop. Ye'll need to chop and burn off the trees, grub the stumps, and then plow for oats and timothy. For some years, the oats will no' grow milling heads; ye cut them for hay."

      "Looks like a long job. Suppose I wanted to sell the block after a time?"

      "It depends," said Jardine dryly. "Ye might get your money back."

      "You imply it depends on the labor one uses?" Jimmy remarked. "Well, I know nothing about chopping and I haven't pulled a crosscut saw. Do you think I can make good?"

      Jardine looked about the terrace and his eyes twinkled. He noted the men's dinner jackets and the women's fashionable clothes. People talked and laughed and smoked.

      "I'm thinking your friends would not make good. Ye canna play at ranching."

      "My object's not to play," said Jimmy in a quiet voice. "Anyhow, before you start to work you must get proper tools. Suppose you tell me what I need?"

      Jardine did so and added: "Proper tools and stock are a sound investment, but ye canna get them cheap. Can ye put up the money?"

      "I must borrow some," Jimmy admitted, and thought Jardine studied Stannard, who talked to two or three young men not far off.

      "Then, maybe ye had better borrow from Mr. Deering."

      Jardine had said something like this before, but Jimmy let it go and the rancher indicated Margaret. Dillon leaned against a post opposite the girl and a group of young men and women occupied the surrounding chairs. A touch of color had come to Margaret's skin; her look was alert and happy. Jimmy had known her undertake a man's job at the ranch, but on the hotel veranda she was not at all exotic.

      "I must thank ye, Mr. Leyland. Sometimes it's lonesome at the ranch," Jardine remarked.

      Jimmy said he hoped his guests would stay for some days, but Jardine refused.

      "At Kelshope work's aye waiting and we'll start the morn. If ye come back wi' us, we'll look ower the block ye bought, and I might advise ye aboot layin' 't oot. In the meantime, we'll reckon up the tools and stock ye'll need – "

      They began to talk about the ranch, and Stannard joined Laura, who sent off her companion.

      "What do you think about Jimmy's experiment?" Stannard asked.

      Laura studied him. On the whole, his look was careless, but she doubted.

      "I don't know. Do you think him rash?"

      Stannard shrugged. "My notion is, the thing's a rather expensive caprice, but after all, Jimmy's rich. He's easily moved and perhaps his bush friends have persuaded him."

      "It's possible," Laura agreed. "All the same, Jimmy's keen. He really means to ranch."

      "You have some grounds to know him keen?"

      Laura's grounds were good and she wondered whether Stannard knew. Her father was clever and she saw his look was thoughtful.

      "For one thing, he declares he cannot go with us to Puget Sound," she said.

      "You imply he would sooner start for the bush with the Jardines?" Stannard suggested with a smile.

      "After all, it's not important, and I expect Jimmy will go where he wants," said Laura, and went up the veranda steps.

      She thought she had baffled Stannard, but she was hurt. At the beginning, she knew her advice to Jimmy was good. When he was going the wrong way she had stopped him. Now, however, it looked as if her power was gone. She could see herself Jimmy's guide in Lancashire, but to guide him in the lonely bush was another thing.

       IX

      THE QUIET WOODS

      A warm Chinook wind, blowing from the Pacific, carried the smell of the pines. The dark branches tossed and a languid murmur, like distant surf, rolled up the valley. Jimmy had pulled off his coat and his gray workman's shirt was open at the neck, for he liked to feel the breeze on his hot skin. He was splitting cedar for roof shingles, but had stopped in order to sharpen his ax. Since he had not yet cut his leg, he thought his luck was good.