To The West Part 67

These wild places had a constant attraction for us, the greater that we were always in expectation of hearing a deer rush away, or catching sight of some fresh bird, while there was always a s.h.i.+vering antic.i.p.ation of our coming face to face with a bear.

The sun came down glowing and hot into the ravine, where the strong aromatic scent of the pines floated to us laden with health as we toiled on higher and higher, leaping from rock to rock, wading or climbing, and often making use of a great pine-trunk for a bridge.

"It's so different to the city," Esau used to say. "The roaring of the water puts you a bit in mind of Cheapside sometimes; but you can't lie down there, and listen and think as you can here."

"What do you generally think about, Esau?" I said.

"Dunno; mostly about getting higher up. Let's get higher up now. I say, look at the trout. Shall we try and get a few for dinner; the old man likes them?"

"As we come back," I said. "Let's go up higher now."

"How far would it be up to where this stream begins?"

"Not very far," I said. "It cannot come from the ice up yonder."

"Why not?" he said sharply. "I think it must."

"It cannot, because it is so clear. We couldn't see the trout if it was a glacier stream."

"Humph, no, I s'pose not. Where does it come from then?"

"Oh, from scores of rills away perhaps in the mountains. How beautifully clear the water is!--you can see every stone at the bottom-- and, look, it's like a network of gold on the sand."

"What makes that?" said Esau.

"The ripple of the water as it runs. How beautiful it all is!"

"Yes; I should like to build mother a cottage up there when she comes."

"That's what you always say. Why don't you set to work and build one ready when she does come?"

"If you talk like that I will," said Esau, irritably. "Of course I always say so--shame if I didn't."

"Well then, select your place and let's begin."

"Shan't! not for you to make fun of me," cried Esau, throwing himself down. "Now then, if you want to quarrel again, go it. I shan't grumble."

We went on by the side of the little stream for quite half-an-hour almost in silence, not from Esau being out of temper, but from the intense satisfaction we felt in being in so beautiful a place, and at last sat down close by a gravelly-looking shallow, where the beautiful clear water tempted us to lie flat down, lean over till we could touch it, and drink.

"That's good water," said Esau, as he wiped his mouth. "I wish plenty of fruit grew here too. What are you doing? Why, you're not going to hunt for gold, are you?"

I did not answer, but went on with what I was doing; scooping up the gravel and sand, and agitating my hand till the light sand was washed away and only the stones remained. It was in imitation of what I had seen Gunson and Quong do scores of times, and in the idlest of moods that I did this, partly, I think, because the water felt cool and pleasant to my hands, and the sensation of the sand trickling between my fingers was agreeable.

"I wonder whether Gunson has found a good place for gold yet?"

"Dunno," replied Esau, with a yawn. "I wish those people would come here, so that we could set to work in real earnest, and be making a house. Shall you come and live with us, or with Mr and Mrs John?"

"Can't say at present. All that sort of thing must be left till they come, and--oh!"

"What's the matter?"

"Nearly slipped in; that's all," I said, selecting a fresh stone for my seat, the one I had been using at the edge of the stream having turned slowly over and pitched me forward.

"Only got wet; you would soon get dry again in the suns.h.i.+ne."

"Yes," I said, taking a fresh handful of gravel and beginning to shake it to and fro in the stream, pausing every now and then to pick out the big stones and throw them away, and the gravel after them, before taking another handful.

"Makes your hands nice and clean, doesn't it?" said Esau. "Nothing like sand for that. Found any gold yet?"

"Not yet," I said.

"No, nor you won't. There's no gold here, only a few little specks like Quong got."

"Oh, there might be," I said carelessly, as I thrust in my hand a little deeper, and brought out a good handful of sand from lower down. "Gunson said he was sure there was plenty if you could--"

"Well, could what?" said Esau, as he lay back with his hands beneath his head, his cap over his eyes, and his voice sounding hollow and strange from having to run round inside his hat.

I did not answer, for I was was.h.i.+ng the contents of my hand with a sudden feeling of eagerness.

"Well?" he said again, "could what?"

"Esau, come and look down here," I whispered very huskily.

"Can't," he said, lazily. "Too comfortable to move."

"Come here!" I cried again.

"Shan't. I'm tired. I don't want to be roused up to look at a fly, or some stupid bird in a tree. You can look at it all to yourself."

"Come here, will you?" I said so fiercely that he sprang up.

"What's the matter?"

"Come and look here!"

He rose and came to me, looking wonderingly at my hands, which I held closely clasped together.

"What's the matter?" he said; "cut yourself? Wait till I tear up my hank'chief."

"No, no," I panted, and the excitement I felt made me giddy.

"Well, I thought you hadn't," he cried. "Don't bleed. Here, what is it? What's the matter with you? You look as silly as a goose."

I stared at him wildly, and no answer came.

"He's going to be ill," I heard Esau mutter, as he shook me angrily. "I say, don't, don't have no fevers nor nothink out here in this wild place where there's no doctors nor chemists' shops, to get so much as an ounce o' salts. Oh, don't, don't!"

"I'm not ill," I said at last. "There's nothing the matter."