The Secret of the Reef Part 28

"Thank you! It's evident that the opposition can do nothing at the wreck when we're on the spot, and the ice will keep the field for us while we're down here; but we must get back before they can send a steamer in the spring. In the meanwhile, we have the bags of gold to dispose of."

"That's a difficulty," said Jaques. "They certainly ought to be handed to the underwriters."

"Just so; but as soon as we part with them we give our secret away. We must stick to them and say nothing until we finish the job."

"Wouldn't it be dangerous? You have cut one bag and broken into the box.

If the fellows who are working against you found that out, they'd claim you had stolen the gold. Then you'd be in a tight place."

"The experience wouldn't be unusual," Bethune answered with a laugh. "We must take our chances, and we'll put the stuff in your safe. What most encourages me to go on is that there were several different consignments of gold sent by the steamer and insured, and I can't take it for granted that all the s.h.i.+ppers were in the conspiracy. There's no reason to suspect the contents of the remaining cases."

"You hadn't made out the marks when I last asked you about them," Jimmy broke in.

"No; they're hardly distinguishable; but I now think I have a clue. I'm inclined to believe the case was s.h.i.+pped by a man named Osborne. His name's in the vessel's manifest, and he has been a.s.sociated with her owner for a long time. I found that out when I was considering the salvage scheme."

Jimmy started.

"His Christian name?"

"Henry. I understand he has a house on the sh.o.r.e of Puget Sound. You look as if you knew him!"

Jimmy said nothing for a few moments, though he saw that the others were watching him curiously. Bethune's suggestion had given him a shock, because it seemed impossible that the pleasant, cultured gentleman he had met on board the _Empress_ should be guilty of common fraud.

Besides, it was preposterous to suppose that Ruth Osborne could be the daughter of a rogue.

"I do know him; that is, I met him on our last voyage. But you're mistaken," he said firmly.

"It's possible," Bethune admitted. "Time will show. I've only a suspicion to act on."

"How do you mean to act on it? What do you propose to do?"

Bethune gave him a searching glance.

"Nothing, until we have emptied the strong-room and we'll have to consider what's most advisable then. In the meanwhile, I expect the opposition will let us feel their hand; there may be developments during the winter." He turned to Jaques. "We'll lay the sloop up out of sight with the next big tides and then go south and look for work. In the spring we'll ask you to grubstake us, and get back to the wreck as soon as the weather permits. I think that's our best plan."

The others agreed, and soon afterward the party broke up. As they went back to the boat Bethune turned to Jimmy.

"Do you feel inclined to tell me what you know about Osborne?" he asked.

"I only know that you're on the wrong track. He isn't the man to join in a conspiracy of the kind you're hinting at."

Bethune did not reply, and they went on in silence down the snowy street. Jimmy found it hard to believe that Osborne had had any share in the fraud, but a doubt was beginning to creep into his mind. For a few minutes he felt tempted to abandon the search for the gold; but he reflected that he was bound to his comrades and could not persuade them to let the matter drop. Besides, if by any chance Bethune's suspicion proved correct, he might be of some service to Miss...o...b..rne. No matter what discovery might be made, she should not suffer; Jimmy was resolved on that.

Leaving port the next day, they found a safe berth for the sloop; and when they had hauled her up on the beach they walked to a Siwash rancherie, where they engaged one of the Indians to take them back in a canoe. Reaching Vancouver by steamboat, they had some trouble in finding work, because the approach of winter had driven down general laborers and railroad construction gangs from the high, inland ranges to the sheltered coast. There was, however, no frost in the seaboard valleys, and at last Jimmy and his friends succeeded in hiring themselves to a contractor who was clearing land.

It was not an occupation they would have taken up from choice, but as their pockets were empty they could not be particular. The firs the choppers felled were great in girth, and as Moran was the only member of the party who could use the ax, the others were set to work sawing up the ma.s.sive logs with a big crosscut. Dragging the double-handled saw backward and forward through the gummy wood all day was tiring work, while, to make things worse, it rained most of the time and the clearing was churned into a slough by the gangs of toiling men. When they left it to haul out a log that had fallen beyond its edge they were forced to plunge waist-deep into dripping brush and withered fern.

For all that, Bethune and Jimmy found the use of the crosscut easy by comparison with their next task, for they were presently sent with one or two others to build up the logs into piles for burning. The ma.s.ses of timber were ponderous, and the men, floundering up to the knees in trampled mire, laboriously rolled them into place along lines of skids.

Then they must be raised into a pyramid three or four tiers high, and getting on the last row was a herculean task carried out at the risk of being crushed to death by the logs overpowering them and running back.

Jimmy and Bethune stuck to it because they had no other recourse, toiling, wet through, in the slough all day and dragging themselves back, dripping, dejected, and worn out, to the sleeping shack at night.

The building was rudely put together, and by no means watertight. Its earth floor was slimy, the stove scarcely kept it warm, while it was filled with a rank smell of cooking, stale tobacco, and saturated clothes. The bunks, ranged like a shelf along the walls, were damp and smeared with wet soil from the garments the men seldom took off; and Jimmy was now and then wakened by the drips from the leaky roof falling on his face. He felt that once he was able to lay them down he would never wish to see a cant-pole or a crosscut-saw again.

But the deliverance he longed for came in a way he did not antic.i.p.ate.

CHAPTER XX-HOUNDED

Clammy mist hung about the edge of the clearing, veiling the somber spires of the pines, but leaving the rows of straight trunks uncovered below a straight-drawn line. It was a gloomy morning. Jimmy, standing with Bethune and several others beside a growing log-pile, stopped a moment to rest his aching muscles. He was wet through, and his arms and back were sore from the previous day's exertions. Two strong skids, placed so as to form an inclined bridge, led to the top of the log-pile and the soil between them was trodden into a wet, slippery mess in which it was difficult to keep one's footing. A length sawed off a ma.s.sive trunk lay across the ends of the skids, and Jimmy and his companions were trying to roll it into its place on top of the previously laid tier.

Getting their poles beneath it they forced it upward, little by little.

When they got half-way, a pole slipped, and for a few anxious moments the men strained every muscle to prevent the ma.s.s from rolling back, while their companion found a fresh rest for his pole. The log must be held: they could not jump clear in time. Breathing hard, with the sweat dripping from them, they raised it a foot or two, until it seemed possible to lift it on to the lower logs by a strenuous effort. They made the attempt; and one of the skids broke. Laying their shoulders beneath the ma.s.s, they struggled with it for their lives. If it overpowered them, they would be borne backward and crushed. With one support gone, it seemed impossible that they could lift it into place.

For a few moments they held it, but did no more, though Jimmy felt the veins swell on his forehead and heard a strange buzzing in his ears. His mouth was dry, his heart beat painfully, and he knew he could not stand the cruel strain much longer. But there was no help available. They must conquer or be maimed.

"Lift! You have got to land her, boys!" cried somebody in a half-choked voice. And they made their last effort.

For a moment the ma.s.s hung in the balance, and then rose an inch. Again they hove it upward before their muscles could relax, and now its weight began to rest upon the lower logs. Another thrust rolled it slowly forward-and the danger was past.

Though the incident was not of an unusual character, Jimmy sat down limply in the wet fern to recover breath, and he was still resting when the foreman came up and beckoned him.

"We'll not want you and your partner after to-night," he said abruptly.

Jimmy looked at him in surprise.

"As you haven't found any fault with us, might one ask the reason?"

"You might; but I can't tell you. There it is-you're fired. I've got my orders."

The Canadian is often laconic, and Jimmy nodded.

"Very well," he said; "we'll go now. This isn't a luxurious job."

"As you like," replied the foreman. "The boss's clerk is in the shack; I'll give him your time."

Jimmy followed him to the office and drew his pay, but the clerk seemed unable to explain his dismissal.

"I guess it's because we can't get our value out of the boys in this rain," he said evasively.

"But why single us out?" Jimmy persisted. "I don't know that I want to stay; but I'm curious. Our gang has put up as many logs as the others."

"I've no time for talking!" the clerk exclaimed. "Take your money and quit!"

Bethune drew Jimmy away and they crossed the clearing to where Moran was at work. He showed no great surprise when he heard their news.

"Well," he said, "I'll finish the week here and then follow you to the city. We'll need the money."

"All right," Bethune agreed; "if you get the chance of staying; but that's doubtful. You know where to find us."