"It seems to me that needs an explanation."

"Then I'll try to give you one. You have given me many things for which I'm grateful, and now that you have bought me the sawmill, I'll do the best I can with it. I've allowed you to choose my career; but I think I'm justified in choosing my wife myself."

"You're young," laughed Clay, "or you'd have learned that it's very seldom a man with red blood chooses his wife; in fact, it much oftener happens the other way about. He meets her and that settles him. If you'd been capable of going round with a list of qualifications looking for a girl who could satisfy them, you'd be no son of mine. However, I'm not dictating what you call your choice. I don't object to it; that's all."

"It's enough. How would you get Miss...o...b..rne if I gave you permission?"

Though the question was awkward, Clay smiled. The boy was shrewder than he thought.

"Oh," he said, "I have some influence with Osborne. He owes me several favors."

"A man wouldn't give up his daughter in return for a favor. What is your hold on him?"

"I don't see much reason why you should know."

"You may be right." Aynsley's tone was determined as he continued: "Let's try to understand each other. If Miss...o...b..rne marries me because that's her wish, I'll be a very fortunate man; but it's unthinkable that she should be forced to do so. I can't have any pressure put upon her father."

"When I want a thing, I get after it the best way I can."

"I believe that's true," Aynsley answered with a smile. "In this case, however, the way's important. I must ask you to leave it alone."

"Very well," acquiesced Clay. "As usual, though, I'll be around if you should want me. I guess I haven't failed you yet."

"You have not, Dad," Aynsley replied in an affectionate tone. "Sit tight; I'm going to stir up the machine."

CHAPTER XII-READY FOR THE FRAY

The train was held up on its way to the Canadian frontier by a wash-out farther along the track. Devereux Clay stood in the noon sunshine talking to Osborne at a small wayside station while groups of impatient pa.s.sengers strolled about the line, stopping now and then to glance at a gap in the somber firs where the rails gleamed in the strong sunshine; the engineer, leaning out from his cab, had his eyes turned in the same direction. There was, however, nothing to be seen but climbing trees, whose ragged spires rose one behind the other far up the steep hillside, and the fragrance the hot noon sun drew out from them mingled with the sharp smell of creosote from the ties. Except for the murmur of voices and the panting of the locomotive pump, it was very quiet in the narrow clearing, and the sound of falling water came up faintly from a deep hollow where a lake glittered among the firs.

Clay leaned against the agent's wooden shack, with his watch in his hand, for time was of value to him just then.

"Twenty minutes yet, from what that fellow said," he grumbled. "Give me a cigar-I've run out-and you needn't wait."

"Oh, I'm in no hurry," said Osborne, glancing toward his automobile, which stood outside the station. "I suppose it's the labor trouble that's taking you to Vancouver?"

"You've hit it," Clay answered in a confidential tone. "I'm a bit worried about things; but I've spent the last two days wondering whether I'd go or not."

He was seldom so undecided, but Osborne thought he understood.

"It looks as if the unions meant business," he said, "and in this agitation against alien labor they seem to have public sympathy. Have you any j.a.ps at the mill?"

"I believe so. That's partly why I'm going. Until I read the papers this morning I thought I'd stay away. I figured it might be better to let the boy worry through alone and see what he could make of it."

"Let him win his spurs?"

"That's right. I told him to sit tight, and so long as he made good I'd foot the bill; but after the big row in Vancouver yesterday, I thought I'd go along. Still, my notion is to keep in the background unless I find I'm badly wanted."

His manner was half apologetic, and Osborne smiled. Clay was not addicted to hovering in the background when things were happening; but Osborne knew the affection he bore his son.

"It might be wiser for you to be on the spot; the white mob seems to be in an ugly mood," he said. "How is Aynsley getting on?"

"Better than I expected. The boy has the right grip and he's taking hold." Clay turned abruptly and fixed Osborne with his eyes. "I was a bit puzzled about his making up his mind all at once that he'd run the mill. Do you know of anything that might have helped to persuade him?"

"Since you ask, I have a suspicion," Osborne answered.

"So have I; I guess it matches yours. It's like the young fool that a word from a girl who knows less than he does should have more effect than all the reasons I gave him."

"It's not unnatural," Osborne smiled.

"Then suppose we're right in our idea of what this points to? You know my boy."

"I like him. Perhaps I'd better say that if I found that Ruth shared my good opinion, I shouldn't object. But I can't guess her views on the matter."

"I know Aynsley's," Clay said dryly. "We had a talk not long ago, and I offered to see what I could do."

Osborne gave him a searching glance and his expression changed. He looked on his guard.

"So far, you have been able to get your son everything he wished for; but you must understand that you can't dispose of my daughter. Ruth shall please herself."

Clay's eyes gleamed with rather hard amus.e.m.e.nt.

"It's curious that my boy said much the same thing. In fact, he warned me off. He knows how I've indulged him and seemed to think I might put some pressure on you."

"In the present instance it wouldn't have much effect; but what you say gives me a better opinion of Aynsley than I already had."

"That's all right," Clay rejoined, dropping his hand on the other's arm in a friendly manner. "We certainly can't afford to quarrel, and I don't know that it's unfortunate our children are more fastidious than we are.

Anyway, we don't want them to find us out. I'd feel mean if my son disowned me."

Osborne winced at this allusion.

"Aynsley stands prosperity well," he said.

"In my opinion, it's considerably less damaging than the other thing.

I'm thankful I've done the grubbing in the dirt for him. I've put him where it's easier to keep clean. So far as I can fix it, my boy shall have a better time than was possible for me. I've put him into business to teach him sense-I don't know a better education for any young man than to let him earn his bread and b.u.t.ter. He'll learn the true value of men and things; and when he's done that and shown he's capable of holding his own, he can quit and do what pleases him. I've no near relations, and there was a time when my distant connections weren't proud of me. Everything I have goes to the boy; and if your daughter will take him, I'd know he was in good hands. If she won't, I'll be sorry, but he must put up with it."

Osborne felt rea.s.sured. Clay had his good points, though they were not always very obvious, and perhaps the best was his affection for his son.

Before Osborne could reply, Clay glanced again at his watch and resumed his usual somewhat truculent manner.

"If they get me into Vancouver after the trouble begins, I'll see the road bosses in Seattle and have the superintendent of this division fired!" he announced.

At that moment the telegraph began to tick in the shack, and shortly afterward the agent came up to Clay.

"They're through. We'll get you off in five minutes, and I have orders to cut out the next two stops," he said.