CHAPTER XXVIII

CLARENCE REACHES CAMP

The evening was dull and gloomy, a gray sky hung over the desolate hills, and Millicent, sitting alone on a rocky slope, felt troubled and depressed. Beneath her, the long hollow that crossed the big divide stretched back, colored in cheerless neutral tints, into drifting mist.

It was sprinkled with little ponds, and banded here and there with belts of stunted trees, small birches and willows, and ragged cedars that hid the oozy muskegs under them.

The girl was worn with travel, for Lisle had abandoned the canoes some time ago, and the party had followed, by what he called easy stages, the trail he and the packers had broken, though the women had found the way hard enough. This, he had informed them, would shorten the journey a good deal, and he expected to fall in with some Indians, from whom canoes could be obtained, once they had crossed the divide; failing this, they might be compelled to retrace their steps.

It was up the forbidding hollow they had lately reached that George Gladwyne had doggedly plodded, faint with hunger, on his last journey.

Millicent had followed his trail for the past two days and she had found them filled with painful memories. All that Lisle had shown her had brought back her brother and once more she mourned for him. But that was an old wound that had partly healed and she could face the sorrowful story of George's last struggles with a certain pride; he had endured with unwavering courage, and the manner of his death became him. The girl had other troubles which clouded the present and filled her with misgivings for the future.

During her first few weeks in the wilderness, lying all day under clear sunshine and cloudless skies, it had seemed to her an enchanted land.

Snow-peaks, and crystal lakes that mirrored ranks of climbing firs, struck her as endowed with an almost unearthly beauty and as wonderful a tranquillity; and when she pushed on through the savage portals of the mountains there was something that stirred her nature in the sight of the foaming rivers and the roar of the spray-veiled falls. Now, however, the glamour had gone, it had been rudely banished on the night when Lisle had helped her down the rocks. She, who had allowed Clarence to believe that she would marry him, had found a strange delight in the company of another man; one whom she might have loved had she been free, she tried to convince herself, in a determined attempt to hide the fact that her heart cried out for him.

Lisle had pushed on with a single companion on the previous night to see if he could obtain canoes; the packers were breaking a trail, and the others were resting in camp. Millicent was glad of this, for she wanted to be alone. Suddenly, as she looked down the hollow, two indistinct figures appeared out of the mist. The packers had gone up the valley, but there was no doubt that it was two men she saw, and they were apparently making for the camp. As the party had met n.o.body since entering the wilderness, she felt curious about the strangers. There was something in the carriage of one of them that seemed familiar; and then the uneasiness of which she had already been conscious became intensified as she recognized that he walked like Clarence.

A few minutes later the men were hidden by a growth of willows and she sped back to camp, scrambling among the rocks with a haste that was born of nervous tension. She did not see the men again--it was needful to pick a path down the steep descent very carefully--and when she came, breathless, upon the clump of birches among which the tents were pitched it was evident from the hum of voices that the strangers had already arrived. Pushing in among the trees, she stopped, with her heart beating unpleasantly fast, face to face with Clarence.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, moving forward to meet her; "now I'm rewarded for my journey. How fit and brown you look, Millicent!"

She stood still a moment, with an expressionless face, finding no words to say; then with an effort she roused herself and shook hands with him.

"You must have had a trying march if you followed our trail," she said.

"But how did you get here--I mean why did you leave Switzerland?"

Crestwick chuckled.

"That's very much what we all asked him," he broke in. "In one way, it's hardly civil; if we'd known he was coming, we'd have been better prepared to express our delight."

The lad was not, as a rule, considerate and he suffered from want of tact, but there was truth behind what he said. It is given to only a few to be sure of a warm and sincere welcome when they take their friends by surprise. Nasmyth frowned at Crestwick, who had rashly hinted at the feeling of constraint that had seized upon the party. Millicent, however, was looking at Gladwyne and her heart grew softer as she noticed his weariness and his strained expression.

"Well," she said when he had answered her, "you must sit down and rest.

Nasmyth and Crestwick will get you something to eat as soon as possible."

It was not what she would have wished to say--it sounded dreadfully commonplace--but Batley came forward with an easy laugh.

"I'm afraid our young friend"--he indicated Crestwick--"is not a diplomatist, but on the whole his fault's a good one; he's more or less honest. You'll forgive us for surprising you; it was quite impossible to send you a warning."

Millicent smiled, the tension suddenly slackened, and as the packer who cooked was away with his comrade, they all set about preparing a meal which, thanks to Batley, was eaten amid a flow of lively conversation.

The man was weary, but he could rise to an occasion and summon to his aid a genial wit. Clarence was glad of this; fatigue had reacted on him, increasing his anxiety, and he had been chilled by the coldness of his reception. Even the cordiality his companions now displayed was suspicious, because it suggested that they wished to atone for something that had previously been lacking. He ate, however, and talked when he found an opportunity, and afterward acquiesced when Millicent declined to be drawn away from the others.

When the meal was finished, they sat close together about the fire, for coldness came with the dusk, but by degrees the conversation languished.

The increasing chill, the gloom and the desolation of their surroundings affected them all; and n.o.body had been quite at ease since Gladwyne's arrival. He was too tired to make more than spasmodic attempts to talk, and though Millicent was sorry for him she could not help contrasting him with Lisle. She had seen the latter almost worn out with severe labor, but even then he had been cheerful, ready to encourage his companions with lively badinage. He seemed to take pleasure in forcing his body to the utmost strain it could bear.

The light had died away into the partial obscurity which would last until sunrise when Lisle walked into camp. The fire had burned up, and Millicent saw his start and his face set hard at the sight of Gladwyne.

"This is a surprise," he said. "When did you get here?"

"About two hours ago. We found where you left the water and followed up your trail," Gladwyne answered.

"How many packers and what stores did you bring?"

"Two packers," replied Gladwyne. "There were no more available at the last settlement. Batley has a list of the provisions--we cut them down as much as possible. As we were anxious to overtake you, we traveled light."

Lisle took the list Batley gave him and examined it by the glow of the fire.

"It looks as if you didn't mind endangering the safety of the whole party," he broke out. "This expedition is already quite large enough, and you add four people to it with less than half the necessary stores, so that you could save yourself a little trouble on the journey! What's more important, we can't make up for the shortage by better speed. Only two of you can pack an average load, though all four must be fed."

Millicent had listened, hot with anger and a little surprised. Lisle had his faults, including a shortness of temper, but he was now showing a strain of what she considered primitive barbarism which he had hitherto concealed. A cultured Englishman would have led Clarence aside or waited for an opportunity before remonstrating with him; and then her face burned as she wondered whether Lisle had been actuated by savage jealousy. It was, however, insufferable that he should display it in this fashion.

"I must point out that I organized the expedition," she said. "Everybody here is my guest."

"Did you invite Gladwyne and Batley?"

"I did not," Millicent was compelled to own. "For all that, they are now in the same position as the rest. I must ask you to remember it."

Lisle had some trouble in controlling himself, but he nodded. "Well," he responded, "I'll have to alter several of our arrangements and I'll go along and talk it over with the packers. I've got the canoes required, and we'll take the trail at seven to-morrow."

He strode away toward the packers' fire, quite aware that he had not behaved in a very seemly way, but still consumed with indignation against Gladwyne. When he had disappeared, Clarence looked up.

"I'm sorry if we have given you unnecessary trouble; but does your guide often adopt that rather hectoring tone?"

His languid contempt roused Crestwick.

"Lisle's responsible for the safety of all of us," the lad broke out, "and you haven't shown much regard for it in making your loads as light as you could!"

Millicent raised her hand.

"We'll talk about something else for a few minutes and then break up.

It's an early start to-morrow."

They dispersed shortly afterward, but Batley sought Lisle before retiring to rest.

"I regret that we have added to your anxiety," he began. "Of course, transport is a serious difficulty--I've had some little experience of this kind of thing."

"In the field?" Lisle asked bluntly. "I've had a suspicion of it. Then why didn't you remember?" He saw Batley's smile, for they were standing by the packers' fire. "Oh," he added, "you needn't trouble to shield Gladwyne. I formed my opinion of him some time ago--he's a mighty poor specimen."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," replied Batley dryly.

They set off early the next morning, and after his forced march, Gladwyne found the load given him sufficiently heavy. He was badly jaded, aching all over, and disturbed in mind, when they camped near the summit of the divide late in the afternoon without his having been able to secure a word with Millicent alone. He felt that he must gain her consent to a formal engagement before Lisle let fall any hint of his suspicions, which he did not believe had been done so far. Afterward, knowing Millicent, he thought she would staunchly refuse to listen to anything to his discredit, and he could, if it were needful, ascribe Lisle's attack to jealousy. He must, however, also contrive to push on ahead of the party, on some excuse, and obliterate any remaining trace of the former expedition's provision caches; then he would be safe.

Millicent had strolled away from the others and was standing among the rocks when he overtook her. The signs of fatigue and tension in his face softened her toward him. Still, it was only compa.s.sion; she felt no thrill, but rather an involuntary shrinking and a sense of alarm. She was to be called upon to fulfil a duty to which she had somehow pledged herself.

"Millicent," he began, "things can't go on as they have been doing--pleasant as it was. I have waited patiently, but you can't expect too much. Now I have come a long way to claim my reward. I want the right to look after you, and to tell the others so."