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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. Inopportune Arrivals |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. INOPPORTUNE ARRIVALS I hardly remember how I left Mr Raydon's office, but I do recollect seeing the bear's head grinning at me, and that of the moose gazing at me in its weak, sorrowful way. My head felt hot, and I was bitterly angry; so that when Grey went from us without speaking, after leading us to the strangers' quarters, it only wanted a few words from Esau to make me turn upon him fiercely. "Look here," he said, "this ain't England, and there's no police and madgistrits about, so I'm not going to stand it. He ain't everybody. I'm off." "To the gold-washings?" I said. "Don't you think you've done mischief enough by betraying it to Mr Gunson?" "Oh, come, I like that," cried Esau. "That's pleasant, that is. Say it was me, eh? Why, you know you told him." "I told him?" "Well, he coaxed it out of you when he had you all by himself." "Esau!" "There, don't shout at me. I don't wonder. I've been sometimes so that I couldn't hardly bear myself for wanting to tell somebody; and it was a pity for all that gold to go begging, and us not get a share." "Then you believe I told Mr Gunson?" "Course I do. I didn't; and there was no one else knew where it was except the captain, and of course he wouldn't." "You are saying that to aggravate me. Esau, once more, do you believe I told Mr Gunson?" He looked at me and laughed. "Why don't you answer?" I cried, angrily. "Do you believe I told Mr Gunson?" "Why, of course I do. What's the good of making a fuss over it with me? Should ha' thought you might ha' trusted me by this time." I sank back on one of the benches staring at him, feeling weak and hopeless. "Don't look like that," cried Esau; "I didn't want to hurt your feelings. It was quite natural. Mr Gunson was our friend before Mr Raydon was; and it was your duty to do him a good turn if you could. Who's Mr Raydon that he's to have everything his way? If he don't want gold, other folks do. I do--lots; and I'm going up now to get my share." "Then you really believe I told?" "Why, of course I do. Why, how could you help it? Seems queer to Mr Raydon, because he has been very kind; but it would have seemed queerer to poor Mr Gunson. Why, as mother used to say, my heart quite bled for him when he came back so tired-looking and shabby, after hunting for months and finding nothing. I'd ha' told him directly if I hadn't promised you I wouldn't. There, don't be in such a fidge about it; you couldn't act square to both of them." "Then it's of no use for me to keep on saying I did not tell," I said, gloomily. "Not a bit; and I'm precious glad you did tell the poor fellow. I don't like him much, and he never liked me much; but he often helped me, and I'd help him. Now then, I want to talk about what we're going to do. What do you say? Do speak. I hate to see you sit mumchance, saying nothing." "There's nothing to do," I said, sadly, "only wait." "What, like a prisoner? I'm going up to that place where the gold is, to get mine and mother's share, and you're coming too for yours." "I'm not," I said, through my set teeth. "What?" "I wouldn't stir from here now for all the gold in the world." "Why, you're talking madness. We come out here to make our fortunes, and there's our fortunes waiting to be made. The door's open and the gate's open; and though Mr Raydon talked big, he dare not try to stop us. Come on." "I tell you nothing should make me stir from here now, till Mr Raydon knows the truth." "Yah! What's the good o' keeping on with all that make-believe? He knows the truth now." I leaped up as if stung. "That's right. Come on." My voice was very husky as I said-- "I've told you what I meant to do, and you keep on insulting me." "Don't talk stuff. What's the good of making all that fuss? You couldn't help telling Mr Gunson, I know that, and I've told you I know it. Of course Mr Raydon don't like it, but he can't help himself. Now then. You're in disgrace here, but you won't be up at the camp; and when his bit of temper's past, Mr Raydon will be sorry for what he said, and ask us to come and look at the piece of land after all." While he kept on speaking, my temper, which had always remained irritable through my illness, kept on rising, and I stood there trying to fight it down, but in vain, for it was very rapidly getting the mastery. It was as if something hot was rising within me, ready to boil over if it grew a little hotter, and it soon did. "There, it's all right," cried Esau, catching me by the arm. "Never mind our things; we'll fetch them another time. Let's be off at once." "Let go of my arm," I said, hoarsely. "Shan't. Don't be stupid. You ain't been yourself since you were hurt, and I'm going to think for you, and do what's right. Come along." "Let go of my arm!" I said again, in a low menacing tone. "No, nor I shan't let go of your arm; and you ain't going to frighten me, Mayne Gordon, because I'm ever so much the stronger now, so come along." "Let--go--of my arm!" I said, in quite a whisper, as Esau hauled me towards the door. "S-h-a-r-n-'t!" cried Esau. "You're going along with me up to those gold-washings. Come along. It's of no use for you to struggle, I'm too much for you--Oh!" In my rage at my inability to reason with him, I suddenly doubled my fist and struck him full in the face, and as he uttered a cry of pain, he started back; but it was only for a moment, and then he flew at me angrily, so that the next minute we two sworn friends, who had suffered so much together, were fighting hard, giving and taking blows, now down, now up, and each growing hotter and more vindictive as we fought--Esau with determination, I with despair, for I felt myself growing weaker and weaker, and knew that in a few minutes I should be hopelessly beaten. But still in my blind fury I kept on, and I was just in the act of delivering a furious blow when I heard voices, and some one uttered a cry of horror. The struggle was over, for we two started back from our contest, Esau ashamed of his rage, and I feeling utterly crushed; for there before me, as far as I could see them in my half-blinded state, giddy as I was with weakness and blows, stood Mr Raydon, and with him the people I would have given the world then not to have met in such a state--the three travellers, who had ended their long weary journey that unfortunate morning. Mrs Dean ran to Esau, and flung her arms about his neck, as Mr Raydon said angrily-- "What is the meaning of this?" No one answered, and for a few moments the silence was to me terrible. Then Mr Raydon spoke again. "Come back to the house," he said; and I saw him take his sister's hand, draw it through his arm, and lead her away. But Mr John, who looked brown and wonderfully changed, hung back, and held out his hand. "Oh, Mayne," he said, sadly, "I did not expect to come and find you like this. What is the meaning of it all?" "Don't, mother; do be quiet," cried Esau just then. "He hit me first." "Oh, but, Esau, my boy, my boy!" "Well, what's the good o' crying? Don't; you're crying all down my neck. Be quiet. How are you? There. Now do leave off hanging on me. I want to go and have a wash." "Oh, Mr Gordon," cried the poor little woman, as Esau ungraciously shook himself free, "how could you hit Esau first--and you such friends?" "Because he was trying to make me out a blackguard," I cried. "Well, I couldn't help it," cried Esau; "I thought it was true." "But you'll shake hands with me, my dear, after I've come all these hundreds and thousands of miles--shake hands and say you're sorry you hit Esau first." "Oh, do be quiet, mother," cried Esau angrily. "What's the good o' making such a fuss? We fell out and had a bit of a fight, and it's all over, and I'm very sorry, and if he'll shake hands, there's mine." "Not till you tell me you don't believe I did that," I cried fiercely. "Well, there then, I don't believe you told him. I can't now you've knocked it all out of me. But I should have won." "If I had not been so weak from my wound, you would not have won," I cried. "Well, no," said Esau thoughtfully, as we shook hands, "for you do hit precious hard. There, mother, will that do?" "Oh yes, my dear," cried Mrs Dean, clinging to my hands now; "and may I kiss you, my dear?" I bent down and kissed the little woman, whose face was full of sympathy for me. "And you've been dangerously ill and nearly dead, Mr Raydon told us. Well, that excuses everything. Esau's temper was horrible after he had been ill with measles. You remember, my dear?" "I don't," said Esau, on being thus appealed to. "I know you were always cross with me, and wouldn't let me go out." "Ah well, ah well," said Mr John Dempster, "never mind about that now. Mayne, my dear boy, do wash your face, and let's have a long talk. I am sorry my dear wife saw you like this, for she has been talking so much about you. I am very sorry." "Sorry, sir!" I cried passionately; "it is horrible." "Yes, it is unfortunate, but an accident," he said smilingly, as he laid his hand upon my shoulder. "You have not fought much since I saw you last?" "Fought? No," I said, unable to keep back a smile at his question. "Ah! you laugh, but I have one memory of your prowess in that way. There, remove those marks." "That's better," he said, a few minutes later. "Now I want to know all about your adventures." "And I about yours, sir," I said eagerly, for we were alone, Esau having passed out of the strangers' quarters with his mother. "Tell me about Mrs John. Is she better?" "Ah, you did not see," he said, with a smile that was quite womanly lighting up his face. "For a time she frightened me, but once we were at sea she began to mend, and for months now the change has been wonderful." "I am glad," I cried. "Yes, wonderful," he continued. "My brother Raydon was right; but had I known, enthusiastic as I am, what a terribly long, slow, tedious journey it was across those vast plains, I should never have dared to venture." "But she has borne it well?" "Borne it! My dear boy, she is no longer the same. The delightful air, the freedom from all restraint, the grandeur of the scenery we have come through, everything has seemed to be giving her back her lost strength, and it is a new life she is beginning to live." "I am thankful," I said. "But tell me, Mayne," he said; "there is some coolness between you and my brother. He did not tell me what it was. Have you not been happy with him?" "Yes," I said, "till now." And then I told him everything, from the discovery of the gold to the moment of his arrival. He stood looking thoughtful for a few moments, and then said-- "And young Dean believes it too?" "Yes," I said; "and that caused the struggle that you saw." "Of course--of course. I see." "But, Mr John, indeed, indeed I kept my word. I did not--I would not tell a soul; and I have carefully avoided going to the place." He stood with his brows knit in silence, looking straight away. "You do not believe me?" I said, piteously. "Believe you? Why not?" he said, rousing himself from his musing. "Of course I believe you, Mayne, and so will my brother. He ought not to have doubted you. Ah, here he comes back." I felt a curious shrinking as I saw Mr Raydon coming across the enclosure; and as he entered there was the stern severe look in his countenance which he put on when he was angry. "I came to fetch you back, John," he said quietly. Then turning to me, "May I know the cause of the disgraceful scene that was taking place a little while ago?" "Yes," cried Mr John, instituting himself as my champion directly. "It seems that you have had unjust suspicions of my young friend Mayne, and that his companion shared them. Mayne could not turn and thrash you, but he could young Dean, and he did." Mr Raydon looked at me sharply. "You may take his word for it," continued Mr John, "as I do. There has been a mistake." "You have not altered a bit, John," said Mr Raydon drily. "Come." "Yes, I'll go back with you, for there is so much to say. Come, Mayne." I saw Mr Raydon raise his brows a little, and that was enough. "Not now, Mr John," I said. "But my wife, she wants to see you." "Yes, sir, and I want to see her; but not now." "He is quite right, John," said Mr Raydon. "Let him stay for the present." Mr John looked from one to the other and then said seriously--"As you will, Dan. Good-bye then for the present, Mayne. There, keep up your heart. I'll talk to my brother, and I'll warrant that before long he will see the truth as I do." He stopped back to say this, and then went on after Mr Raydon, leaving me to fling myself on the bench, rest my elbows on the table, and bury my face in my hands. For it seemed to me that I had never felt so miserable before, and as if fate was playing me the most cruel of tricks. I felt indignant too with Mr Raydon, who had seemed to look upon his brother-in-law's faith in me with a cruel kind of contempt, treating him as if he were an enthusiast easily deceived. And all this stung me cruelly. I was touched in my pride, and the worst part of it seemed to be that Mrs John might have so much faith in her brother, that she would be ready to believe his word before mine. As I sat there thinking, I was obliged to own that matters did look black against me, and that with such terrible evidence in array, there was some excuse for Mr Raydon. "But she might believe me," I said, half aloud. But even as I said this, I recalled how he had evidently dreaded that I should betray the secret, and watched me and Gunson at our last meeting, which certainly did look suspicious when taken into consideration with the object of the latter's visits to the neighbourhood. "Gunson shall come here and tell him everything. He shall make him believe," I said to myself; and then in a despondent way, I felt that I could not go up to the camp without making Mr Raydon think worse of me at once, and then Mrs John would believe in him more and more. And it all seemed over, and as if the happy days I had looked forward to when the travellers came, would never be, and that I was the most unfortunate fellow that had ever breathed, when a hand was laid gently on my head, and a voice said-- "Mayne." I started to my feet, and there was Mrs John gazing at me sadly, but so changed since I had seen her before my start, that I could only look at her wonderingly, and when she held out her hand I caught it and was about to raise it to my lips, but she drew me to her, and the next moment she was seated on the bench I had left, and I was down upon my knees gazing up into her sweet face, feeling that while she lived I had one who would always take for me the part of the mother I had lost so long. _ |
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