A Man of Two Countries Part 8

Danvers turned away. So new a mood a.s.sailed him that he went outside the stockade and prowled along the outer wall, not waiting to do more than greet the doctor. How he longed for a touch of that dainty hand, for a word from Eva--from _any_ young woman of his own race! All the manhood, all the heart-hunger of the isolated years, surged within him. He smiled rather piteously. He had not realized that he was starving for the sight of fair skin, sunny hair and slender hands; for a bonny white face--white--white! That was it! A white face, a womanly face! He hardly noticed the muttered "How" of Pine Coulee as she pa.s.sed, her young babe slung over her back. But he returned her salutation, and after they pa.s.sed each other he recalled a look on her usually expressionless face that he had never seen there before.

"Here, Phil! Wait for us!" Latimer was calling, and Danvers soon forgot his perturbation in the pleasure of the doctor's presence and congratulations, as he came up with Arthur.

"Got so you can talk, eh?" asked the doctor, noting how the young men vied in their efforts to entertain him. "I told the colonel that I was coming up here to see you, fully as much as him--good friends as we are.

You are good to look at, both of you."

"Arthur always could talk," smiled Danvers, "and I can--with my friends."

"How is Burroughs getting along?" asked the doctor, as the trader pa.s.sed them, too absorbed, apparently, in the recollection of his meeting with Miss Thornhill to note either them or Pine Coulee, who followed him.

"Remarkably well, from a financial standpoint. His living with a squaw makes him popular with the Indians, and the colonel swears by him--thinks he's perfect."

"And the trade in whiskey?"

Latimer shrugged his shoulders expressively.

"That's Bob's squaw," said Arthur, after an awkward pause. "She's as proud as a peac.o.c.k of that papoose. She rather lords it over her former a.s.sociates of the lodges."

The doctor whistled. He knew Pine Coulee's story, but had not heard of the child. "Bob will want to marry some day," was his sole comment. "Has Me-Casto ever been caught?"

"No. When he does turn up, Robert Burroughs may look out for trouble."

"Why did Toe String Joe leave the Force?" asked the doctor presently.

"He has been in Fort Benton for some little time."

"Drummed out of the service. But he wouldn't tell who supplied him with the whiskey. What is he doing now?"

"Joe is mining. He declares he will be a millionaire."

"He'll be a millionaire when Danvers turns American and runs for office," scoffed Latimer, remembering Joe's s.h.i.+ftless disposition and making the most improbable comparison that he could think of.

"He will never be one, then," said Philip, quietly. "I cannot think of anything that would make me break my allegiance to England. I am going to stay in the service--I like it! And as for American politics!... You know what I think of them." He smiled affectionately to atone for the words.

The glimpses that the troopers and younger officers caught of Eva Thornhill in the following week were few. Nevertheless a gust of love-madness swept through the ranks, from the officer commanding to the newest recruit. Nor were the townsmen behind in their attempts to win a part of the girl's time and thoughts--if not herself. Burroughs easily led in favor, and Lieutenant Danvers effaced himself. So rigidly did he do so that it was not long before Miss Thornhill found the flavor of rue in her Canadian visit. The smart lieutenant had made no advances, had sought no introduction. Eva demanded the homage of all, accustomed as she was to the frontier life where women were too rare to be neglected.

No chaperon was thought of in the freedom of the frontier, and, indeed, none was needed among the innately chivalrous Westerners. This little world of Macleod revolved around her--all but the silent, un.o.btrusive Danvers, whose acquaintance seemed the more desirable in direct ratio to his aloofness. Eva resolved to win him, and Arthur Latimer was artfully sounded for the cause of his friend's indifference. The Southerner, already playing at love with the fair-haired belle, and at no pains to conceal it, readily undertook to find out.

"Why don't you meet Miss Thornhill?" he asked.

"I am very busy these days," interrupted the lieutenant, giving his excuse hastily. Not even to his friend could he disclose how he was drawn toward the only white representative of her s.e.x at Macleod.

"But she wants to know you. She wants to meet you," insisted the loyal Arthur, who had sung Danvers' praises industriously and unselfishly.

"Why, Arthur!" Philip cried, gaily, to cover the tremor in his voice that would not be subdued when he learned that this haughty maid had thought of him. "If you are as much in love with Miss Thornhill as you pretend to be, you want to speak for yourself. But she evidently prefers Bob Burroughs, and I, for one, think I'll keep out of temptation." He slapped the ardent Southerner affectionately on the back. "No chance for either of us, old man! Don't talk of me to her! She will think us a.s.ses--amiable idiots!"

"I know there's no chance for me," replied Latimer, aggrieved. "What have I to offer a wife--I'm poor as the proverbial church mouse."

"Anyway, leave me out of your conversations."

"I'll see that you do not meet her!" returned the Missourian, in mock alarm. Then they laughed light-heartedly. "I know whom she'd choose--if she had the opportunity. Burroughs wouldn't stand a show, nor I either."

"There she is now." Danvers nodded toward the ford, where he had seen, for several moments, the trader and Eva riding easily.

"Bob's got his nerve! How about Pine Coulee and the child?" exploded Latimer.

"S-s.h.!.+" warned Philip, seeing a movement of the bullberry bushes near them.

As the young men looked toward the riders, whose mounts were close together and walking slowly, a dark face, with pa.s.sionate eyes gleaming, pushed cautiously out from the sheltering branches, and Pine Coulee also watched the unconscious maid and the trader.

When Colonel Macleod, wis.h.i.+ng to impress his American visitors, ordered the troops under his command to go through their cavalry exercises, Miss Thornhill sat on a glossy mare beside him, while troopers pa.s.sed at a walk or trot, and wondered why she had found it so difficult to meet Lieutenant Danvers. As the lines of superb and faultlessly groomed men and horses swept past on the last mad gallop she forgot her brooding and clapped her hands enthusiastically.

"Oh, Colonel Macleod! That was splendid! Make them go on, and on!" she cried.

"Why, of course, if you wish," a.s.sented the gallant Macleod, forgetting that the rise of ground directly in front of him had the river on its farther slope.

"Phat's the colonel thinkin' of?" growled O'Dwyer, as no halt sounded.

"He's not thinkin' at all!" responded the man next in alignment, sourly.

"A man can't think when a slip of a girl's near by."

"He's forgot the river!" groaned the fleshy Irishman, dreading the certain plunge.

Into the stream they dashed, many of the men over their heads, for there was no turning back.

As the horses balked, Lieutenant Danvers' stallion threshed viciously, hitting O'Dwyer, and then ceased to swim.

O'Dwyer groaned, "Me a-r-rm!"

It was over in an instant. Those on sh.o.r.e a.s.sisted Danvers and the Irishman to land. O'Dwyer was left in Philip's care, while the rest of the men rode back, as the review must not be interrupted.

Eva saw the break in the ranks.

"Lieutenant Danvers has dropped out," she exclaimed, and straightway bit her lip.

"Philip?" hastily asked the Fort Benton doctor, on a horse near by.

"Then there has been an accident!"

The sergeant-major rode up to report, but the impulsive Eva did not wait for details. She touched her mare and was after the doctor.

"I'm so sorry!" cried the girl, as she met Danvers and O'Dwyer returning. "It's all my fault that you are wet--and hurt! Which one is hurt?" She turned provocative eyes to the dripping lieutenant.

"O'Dwyer has a sprained elbow," answered Philip, his heart dancing at her solicitude. "It was through my carelessness."

"Don't ye be belavin' a wor-rd he says, miss!" burst out O'Dwyer. "That is (beggin' yer pardon fer spakin' to the loikes of yez, an' me a private!), don't ye belave 'tis his fault. He kep' me from drownin', that's what he did!"

O'Dwyer had noted his idol's preoccupation since Miss Thornhill's advent, the self-imposed aloofness, and had drawn his own shrewd conclusions. He determined, here and now, to do Danvers a good turn, despite the frown on the doctor's face and Philip's frantic signaling.

"Lieutenant Danvers is the finest feller G.o.d ever made!" he blurted, regardless.