He pulled up his team and pointed to the clump of giant trees.

"Look there! That's nature's challenge to man in this country."

Evelyn recognized that it was an impressive one. The great trunks ran up far aloft, tremendous columns, before their brighter portions were lost in the vaulted roof of somber greenery. They dwarfed the rig and team; she felt herself a pygmy by comparison.

"They're a little larger than the average," her companion explained, "Still, that's the kind of thing you run up against when you buy land to start a ranch or clear the ground for a mine. Chopping, sawing up, splitting those giants doesn't fill one with languorous dreams; the only dreams that our axmen indulge in materialize. It's an unending, bracing struggle. There are leagues and leagues of trees, shrouding the valleys in a shadow that has lasted since the world was young; but you see the dawn of a wonderful future breaking in as the long ranks go down."

Once more, without clearly intending it, he had stirred the girl. He had not spoken in that rather fanciful style to impress her; she knew that, trusting in her comprehension, he had merely given his ideas free rein.

But in doing so he had somehow made her hear the trumpet-call to action which, for such men, rings through the roar of the river and the song of the tall black pines.

"Ah!" she murmured, "it must be a glorious life, in many ways; but it's bound to have its drawbacks. Doesn't the flesh shrink from them?"

"The flesh?" He laughed. "In this land the flesh takes second place--except, perhaps, in the cities." He turned and looked at her curiously. "Why should you talk of shrinking? The bush couldn't daunt you; you have courage."

The girl's eyes sparkled, but not at the compliment. His words rang with freedom; the freedom of the heights, where heroic effort was the rule, in place of luxury. She longed now, as she had often done, to escape from bondage; to break away.

"Ah, well," she said, smiling half wistfully; "perhaps it's fortunate that such courage as I have may never be put to the test."

Though reticence was difficult, Vane made no comment. He had already spoken unguardedly, and he decided that caution would be desirable.

As he started the team, an automobile came up, and he looked around as he drove on.

"It's curious that I never heard the thing," he remarked.

"I didn't, either," replied Evelyn. "I was too much engrossed in the trees. But I think Miss Horsfield was in it"

"Was she?" responded Vane in a very casual manner; and Evelyn, for no reason that she was willing to recognize, was pleased.

She had not been mistaken. Jessy Horsfield was in the automobile, and she had had a few moments in which to study Vane and his companion. The man's look and the girl's expression had struck her as significant; and her lips set in an ominously tight line as the car sped on. She felt that she almost hated Vane; and there was no doubt that she entirely hated the girl at his side. It would be soothing to humiliate her, to make her suffer, and though the exact mode of setting about it was not very clear just yet, she thought it might be managed. Her companion wondered why she looked preoccupied during the rest of the journey.

CHAPTER XXIV

JESSY STRIKES

It was the afternoon before Vane's departure for the North, and Evelyn, sitting alone for the time being in Mrs. Nairn's drawing-room, felt disturbed by the thought of it. She sympathized with his object, as it had been briefly related by her hostess, but she supposed there was a certain risk attached to the journey, and that troubled her. In addition to this, there was another point on which she was not altogether pleased.

She had twice seen him acknowledge a bow from a very pretty girl whose general appearance suggested that she did not belong to Evelyn's own walk in life, and that very morning she had noticed him crossing a street in the young woman's company. Vane, as it happened, had met Kitty Blake by accident and had asked her to accompany him on a visit to Celia. Evelyn did not think she was of a jealous disposition, and jealousy appeared irrational in the case of a man whom she had dismissed as a suitor; but the thing undoubtedly rankled in her mind. While she was considering it, Jessy Horsfield entered the room.

"I'm here by invitation, to join Mr. Vane's other old friends in giving him a good send-off," she explained. "Only, Mrs. Nairn told me to come over earlier."

Evelyn noticed that Jessy laid some stress upon her acquaintance with Vane, and wondered whether she had any motive for doing so.

"I suppose you have known him for some time?"

"Oh, yes," was the careless answer. "My brother was one of the first to take him up when he came to Vancouver."

The phrase jarred on Evelyn. It savored of patronage; besides, she did not like to think that Vane owed anything to the Horsfields.

"Though I don't know much about it, I understood that they were opposed to each other," she said coldly.

Jessy laughed.

"Their business interests don't coincide; but it doesn't follow that they should disagree about anything else. My brother did all he could to dissuade Mr. Vane from going on with his search for the timber until the winter is over."

This was true, inasmuch as Horsfield had spoken to Vane about the subject, though it is possible that he would not have done so had he expected the latter to yield to his reasoning. Vane was one whom opposition usually rendered more determined.

"I think it is rather fine of him to persist in it," Evelyn declared.

Jessy smiled, though she felt venomous just then.

"Yes," she agreed; "one undoubtedly feels that. Besides, the thing's so characteristic of him; the man's impulsively generous and not easily daunted. He possesses many of the rudimentary virtues, as well as some of the corresponding weaknesses, which is very much what one would look for."

"What do you mean by that?" Evelyn inquired with a trace of asperity.

Though she was not prepared to pose as Vane's advocate, she was conscious of a growing antagonism toward her companion.

"It's difficult to explain, and I don't know that the subject's worth discussing," answered Jessy. "However, what I think I meant was this--Mr.

Vane's of a type that's not uncommon in the West, and it's a type one finds interesting. He's forcibly elementary, which is the only way I can express it; the restraints the rest of us submit to don't bind him--he breaks through them."

This, Evelyn fancied, was more or less correct. Indeed, the man's fearless disregard of hampering customs had pleased her, but she recognized that some restraints are needful. Her companion followed the same train of thought.

"When one breaks down or gets over fences, it's necessary to discriminate," she went on. "Men of the Berserker type, however, are more addicted to going straight through the lot. In a way, they're consistent--having smashed one barrier why should they respect the next?"

Jessy, as she was quite aware, was playing a dangerous game; one that might afterward be exposed. The latter possibility, however, was of less account, for detection would come too late if she were successful. She was acquainted with the salient points of Evelyn's character.

"They're consistent, if not always very logical," she concluded after a pause. "One endeavors to make allowances for men of that description."

Something in her tone roused Evelyn to sudden imperious anger. It was intolerable that this woman should offer excuses for Vane.

"What particular allowances do you feel it needful to make in Mr. Vane's case?" she asked haughtily.

Now that she was faced by the direct question, Jessy hesitated. As a rule, she was subtle, but she could be ruthlessly frank, and she was possessed by a pa.s.sionate hatred of the girl beside her.

"You have forced me to an explanation," she smiled. "The fact is that while he has a room at the hotel he has an--establishment--in a different neighborhood. Unfortunately such places are a feature of some western towns."

It was a shock to Evelyn; one that she found hard to face; though she was not convinced. The last piece of information agreed with something Mrs.

Nairn had told her; but, although she had on one occasion had the testimony of her eyes in support of it, Jessy's first statement seemed incredible.

"It's impossible!"

Jessy smiled in a bitter manner.

"It's unpleasant, but it can't be denied. He undoubtedly pays the rent of a shack in the neighborhood I mentioned."

Evelyn sat tensely still for a moment or two. She dare not give rein to her feelings, for she would not betray herself; but composure was extremely difficult.

"If that is true," she demanded, "how is it that he is received everywhere--at your house and by Mrs. Nairn? He is coming here to-night."