To The West Part 39

"My dear madam, no," said Gunson, in the most gentlemanly way; "I only wanted to say that a cup of good tea in this wilderness is a thing that one may offer a lady, and as that is thoroughly prime China tea that I have brought up from 'Frisco, will you do us the honour of trying a cup?"

The change in the woman's countenance was wonderful. It softened; then there was a smile, and her face looked quite pleasant.

"Well, really, that's very good of you," she said. "I'll go and get myself a cup. A drop of good tea is such a treat out here."

She hurried out of the room, and Gunson laughed.

"Here, Gordon," he said, "get out that sugar you'll find in my bag. We must do it well with company."

I brought forth a tin of sugar and placed it on the table, and Gunson having tidied it a little by throwing the bacon rind away, and spreading the mugs about, we sat listening to the sputtering of the bacon and watching the flickering of the flames, which in the increasing darkness began to gild and tinge the rough boarded walls with red.

Just then the woman came back, with two cups, a saucer, and another tin.

"I thought I'd bring you a cup to dip with," she said, "and a drop of milk. A neighbour of ours ten miles up the river has got two cows, and he brings me a little milk when he comes down to buy stores. He was here this morning, so it's quite fresh."

A few minutes later, and our landlady had finished her cup of tea, which she declared to be "lovely," while upon a second one being dipped she took it up and carried it off, saying she was too busy to stay.

Left alone, we proceeded to discuss our own meal, slices of the cake-like bread forming our plates, and our pocket-knives doing double duty. Great draughts of hot tea washed down the bacon, and scarcely a word was spoken till Esau sighed, and began to wipe and polish his big new knife.

"Feel better, my lad?" said Gunson, smiling.

"Yes," said Esau, speaking rather reluctantly. "I am a bit better now."

"A bit? Why, you are like a new lad. Nothing like a good tea meal out in the wilds, my lad, to put life into one. Why I've known days when we've been ready to break down, or give up, or go back; then we've formed camp, got a bit of fire on the way, boiled the kettle with a pinch of tea in it, and eaten our cold bacon and damper, and been fit to do anything after. So are you two. To-morrow morning you'll be ready to make your start up the river, and this will be like your first lesson in camping out."

"Which way are you going, sir?" said Esau, after a long silence, during which we had been sitting gazing at the fire, but not until there had been a general tidy up of our table.

"Nor'-east," said Gunson, laconically. Then in a very abrupt way, "Now then, you've a hard day's work before you to-morrow, so roll yourselves up in your blankets and go to sleep."

"Where?" I said. "She has not showed us our bedroom."

"No, because this is, as the old song says, 'parlour and kitchen and hall,' with sleeping accommodation included. There are plenty of fine spreading spruces outside, though, if you prefer a bed there."

"Oh no," I said, as I began to realise that our journey now was going to be very rough indeed; and thoroughly appreciating the value of the blanket I had brought, I rolled myself in it, and lay down to think wonderingly of where we should be to-morrow. I knew that I could not go to sleep, but thought it better to obey Gunson in every way while he was with us; and as I lay there, I saw him rise and stand thoughtfully before the fire, while almost directly a sound arose from close by me as if Esau was practising ventriloquism, and wanted to give a good imitation of wood-sawing.

This grew so exasperating at last, that I should have kicked him to wake him up if I had not been prevented by my blanket, which was twisted so tightly round my legs that they would not move.

"I suppose he must be lying on his back," I remember thinking; and directly after, as it seemed to me, when I looked at Gunson, whose figure just before stood out big and black before the glowing fire, he was not there.

I think I considered it rather strange, but I was under the impression directly after that he had lain down too. Then there was a low, dull, humming sound, which I knew came from the river, and then I was looking up at Gunson, who was standing over me, with the fire lighting him on one side, and the broad, warm glow of the rising sun on the other.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

OUR MORNING BATH.

"Well, have you had a good night's rest?" cried Gunson, smiling at me.

"Have--have I been asleep?" I said, sitting up.

"Asleep? Yes, for a good eight hours. There, tumble up. Your washhand-basin is waiting for you. Now, Dean," he continued, touching him with his foot, "are you going to lie there all day?"

"Don't--I say, be quiet. I've only just closed my eyes. Why! Eh? If it ain't to-morrow morning!"

He got up and shook himself, and then followed my example of folding up my blanket.

"Can you lads swim?"

"I can," I said; and the words recalled our river at home, and the green bank off which I used to plunge.

"I learned in Lambeth Baths," said Esau.

"Then if I were you I'd go and have a dip; freshen you both up for the day. There's a place under the trees about a hundred yards from the wharf. I've had a swim there this morning."

"Already?" I said.

"Yes, and done some business beside. But look here; keep to the shallows there, and don't venture into the stream, for the current is exceedingly swift."

A swim in the bright morning suns.h.i.+ne sounded so delightful that I made for the door at once.

"Remember about the current, my lads," said Gunson; "and you, Dean, if you keep your eyes open you'll see plenty of salmon."

"That's his way of making fun of me," said Esau, as soon as we were outside. "Somehow he don't like me."

"And you don't like him, Esau?"

"That's about true, Mr Gordon," cried Esau. "But oh my!--only look!"

I needed no telling, for as we stood on the banks of that swift river, with the forest rising behind us, and the sun glorifying everything around, all thoughts of the last night's low spirits, and the trouble we had gone through, were forgotten, and I felt ready to shout for joy.

The axe of the woodman had been at work, but so little that it was hardly noticeable, and, look which way we would, all was lovely, glorious, more beautiful than words can paint.

"Here, I want to shout. I want to lie down and roll. Here, lay hold of my ankles and hold me," cried Esau, "Why? What are you going to do?"

"I feel as if I must stand on my head, or I shall go mad. I do indeed."

"Don't be so stupid."

"But it ain't stupid. It's all so--so--Oh! I can't tell you how beautiful it is."

"Never mind now. We are here, and can go on liking it."

"Yes, I know; but--I say, lookye here. What a tree to climb, with all its branches standing out like steps, and--Why, it must be a hundred feet high."

"It's more than two," I said as I gazed up at the grand green spire of a Douglas pine, tapering gradually up, as if it intended to pierce the bright blue sky.

"Can't be so high as that," said Esau. "But I don't know," he cried.