The Major Part 21

"This is something new," answered Nora. "I think we should cross the water and try to break through to the left around the top of the tree."

"No," said Ernest, "the right looks better to me, around the root here.

It is something of a scramble, but it is better than the left."

"Come along," said Nora; "this is the way of the trail, and we can get through the brush of that top all right."

"I am for the right. Come, let's try it, Kathleen, shall we?" said Ernest.

Kathleen hesitated. "Come, we'll beat them out. Right turn, march."

The commanding tones of the young man appeared to dominate the girl.

She set her horse to the steep hillside, following her companion to the right. A steep climb through a tangle of underbrush brought them into the cleared woods, where they paused to breathe their animals.

"Ah, that was splendidly done. You are a good horsewoman," said Ernest.

"If you only had a horse as good as mine we could go anywhere together.

You deserve a better horse, too. I wonder if you know how fine you look."

"My dear old Kitty is not very quick nor very beautiful, but she is very faithful, and so kind," said Kathleen, reaching down and patting her mare on the nose. "Shall we go on?"

"We need not hurry," replied her companion. "We have beaten them already. I love the woods here, and, Kathleen, I have not seen you for ever so long, for nine long months. And since your return fifteen days ago I have seen you only once, only once."

"I am sorry," said Kathleen, hurrying her horse a little. "We happened to be out every time you called."

"Other people have seen you," continued the young man with a note almost of anger in his voice. "Everywhere I hear of you, but I cannot see you.

At church--I go to church to see you--but that, that Englishman is with you. He walks with you, you go in his motor car, he is in your house every day."

"What are you talking about, Ernest? Mr. Romayne? Of course. Mother likes him so much, and we all like him."

"Your mother, ah!" Ernest's tone was full of scorn.

"Yes, my mother--we all like him, and his sister, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, you know. They are our nearest neighbours, and we have come to know them very well. Shall we go on?"

"Kathleen, listen to me," said the young man.

At this point a long call came across the ravine.

"Ah, there they are," cried the girl. "Let's hurry, please do." She brought her whip down unexpectedly on Kitty's shoulders. The mare, surprised at such unusual treatment from her mistress, sprang forward, slipped on the moss-covered sloping rock, plunged, recovered herself, slipped again, and fell over on her side. At her first slip, the young man was off his horse, and before the mare finally pitched forward was at her head, and had caught the girl from the saddle into his arms. For a moment she lay there white and breathing hard.

"My G.o.d, Kathleen!" he cried. "You are hurt? You might have been killed." His eyes burned like two blazing lights, his voice was husky, his face white. Suddenly crus.h.i.+ng her to him, he kissed her on the cheek and again on her lips. The girl struggled to get free.

"Oh, let me go, let me go," she cried. "How can you, how can you?"

But his arms were like steel about her, and again and again he continued to kiss her, until, suddenly relaxing, she lay white and shuddering in his arms.

"Kathleen," he said, his voice hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion, "I love you, I love you. I want you. Gott in Himmel, I want you. Open your eyes, Kathleen, my darling. Speak to me. Open your eyes. Look at me. Tell me you love me." But still she lay white and shuddering. Suddenly he released her and set her on her feet. She stood looking at him with quiet, searching eyes.

"You love me," she said, her voice low and quivering with a pa.s.sionate scorn, "and you treat me so? Let us go." She moved toward her horse.

"Kathleen, hear me," he entreated. "You must hear me. You shall hear me." He caught her once more by the arm. "I forgot myself. I saw you lying there so white. How could I help it? I meant no harm. I have loved you since you were a little girl, since that day I saw you first herding the cattle. You had a blue dress and long braids. I loved you then. I have loved you every day since. I think of you and I dream of you. The world is full of you. I am offering you marriage. I want you to be my wife." The hands that clutched her arm were shaking, his voice was thick and broken. But still she stood with her face turned from him, quietly trying to break from his grasp. But no word did she speak.

"Kathleen, I forgot myself," he said, letting go of her arm. "I was wrong, but, my G.o.d, Kathleen, I am not stone, and when I felt your heart beat against mine--"

"Oh," she cried, shuddering and drawing further away from him.

"--and your face so white, your dear face so near mine, I forgot myself."

"No," said the girl, turning her face toward him and searching him with her quiet, steady, but contemptuous eyes, "you forgot me."

CHAPTER IX

EXCEPT HE STRIVE LAWFULLY

The Wolf Willow Dominion Day Celebration Committee were in session in the schoolhouse with the Reverend Evans Rhye in the chair, and all of the fifteen members in attendance. The reports from the various sub-committees had been presented and approved.

The programme for the day was in the parson's hand. "A fine programme, ladies and gentlemen, thanks to you all, and especially to our friend here," said Mr. Rhye, placing his hand on Larry's shoulder.

A chorus of approval greeted his remark, but Larry protested. "Not at all. Every one was keen to help. We are all tremendous Canadians and eager to celebrate Dominion Day."

"Well, let us go over it again," said Mr. Rhye. "The football match with the Eagle Hill boys is all right. How about the polo match with the High River men, Larry?"

"The captain of the High River team wrote to express regret that two of his seniors would not be available, but that he hoped to give us a decent game."

"There will only be one fault with the dinner and the tea, Mrs. Kemp."

"And what will that be, sir?" enquired Mrs. Kemp, who happened to be Convener of the Refreshment Committee.

"They will receive far too much for their money," said Mr. Rhye. "How about the evening entertainment, Larry?" he continued.

"Everything is all right, I think, sir," said Larry.

"Are the minstrels in good form?" enquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "This is your last appearance, you know, and you must go out in a blaze of glory."

"We hope to get through somehow," said Larry.

"And the speakers?" enquired Mr. Rhye.

"Both will be on hand. Mr. Gilchrist promises a patriotic address.

Mr. Alvin P. Jones will represent Wolf Willow in a kind of local glorification stunt."

"This is all perfectly splendid," said Mr. Rhye, "and I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you all. We ought to have a memorable day to-morrow."

And a memorable day it was. The weather proved worthy of Alberta's best traditions, for it was sunny, with a fine sweeping breeze to temper the heat and to quicken the pulses with its life-bringing ozone fresh from the glacier gorges and the pine forests of the Rockies.

The captain of the Wolf Willow football team was awake and afoot soon after break of day that he might be in readiness for the Eagle Hill team when they arrived. Sam was in his most optimistic mood. His team, he knew, were in the finest condition and fit for their finest effort.

Everything promised victory. But alas! for Sam's hopes. At nine o'clock a staggering blow fell when Vial, his partner on the right wing of the forward line, rode over with the news that Coleman, their star goal-keeper, their ultimate reliance on the defence line, had been stepped on by a horse and rendered useless for the day. It was, indeed, a crus.h.i.+ng calamity. Sam spent an hour trying to dig up a subst.i.tute.