Chapter XXI: The Brulee
Stirling, who hitherto, like a wise man, had carefully avoided
wild-cat mining schemes, and, indeed, ventures of any kind outside his
own profession, had for once thrust his prudence into the background
and done what he could to further Weston's project, for a reason which
he would not have admitted to anybody else. He was not famous as a
charitable person, but he had, for all that, unobtrusively held out a
helping hand to a good many struggling men in need of it during his
career, and there were now certain conjectures and suspicions lying
half-formulated at the back of his mind. He had acted on them with the
impulsive promptness which usually characterized him, and it was not
his fault that his efforts proved fruitless, for Weston, as it
happened, neither revisited Vancouver nor communicated with Norris &
Lander.
A week after he left Montreal, Weston met Grenfell in a little British
Columbian settlement shut in by towering ranges and leagues of shadowy
bush, where they were fortunate enough to find a storekeeper who
seemed inclined to place more credence in their story than any of the
company promoters had done. What was more to the purpose, he offered
to provide them with a horse, camp-gear and provisions, in exchange
for a certain share in the mine should their search prove successful. The share was rather a large one, but, as the man pointed out, it was very probable that they might not strike the lode at all. They also made the acquaintance of a young surveyor who had set up in the wooden settlement several months earlier and had done very little business since. He was quite willing to give them the benefit of his professional services on somewhat similar terms to those the storekeeper had made.
The result of this was that early one morning they set out once more
on the gold trail. When they made their first camp at sunset in a
grove of towering pines they held a council. It was almost dark amidst
the serried rows of tremendous trunks, but the light of the snapping
fire fell upon their faces, which were all a trifle grave. In the case
of two of the party, at least, their faces were stamped with a certain
quiet resolution and a hint of the forcefulness which comes of rigid
and continuous self-denial. Men discover in the bush that abstention
from most of the little comforts and amenities of life not
infrequently tends to vigor of body and clarity of mind. This, however, is a fact that has been accepted long ago, for it is not, as a rule, the full-fleshed, self-indulgent man who does anything worth while. Their skin was clear and bronzed, their nerves steady, and, though Grenfell differed from them in these respects, their eyes were very keen, with a snap in the depths of them. They were eyes that could look peril and defeat squarely in the face without flinching.
Devine, the young surveyor, laughed as he flung his empty enameled
plate aside.
"It's quite a long time since I had a meal of that kind," he said. "After all, there is a certain satisfaction in the feeling that you couldn't eat very much more even if you had it, though that's an opportunity to which I've not been accustomed lately. I've made my supper rather frequently on half of a stale flapjack, and had the other half for breakfast the next day. Having admitted that, suppose we turn our attention to the proposition in front of us. You were heading south when you separated from Verneille, Grenfell?"
"About south. I can't be sure."
"That," observed the surveyor, "may mean anything between southeast
and southwest; and if we take the spot where you found your partner
afterward, and make a sweep with a forty-mile radius, which is what
we've concluded was the distance he probably covered, it gives us
quite a big tract of country to search. Still, we ought to find a lake
that's a mile or two across."
Weston laughed softly.
"It's my third attempt, and I don't know how often Grenfell has tried. One could almost fancy that the lake has vanished. That sounds a little absurd, doesn't it?"
"Well," said Devine, with an air of reflection, "we won't admit that
it's an impossibility. If you can take that for granted, it simplifies
the thing."
Grenfell, who lay with his back against a fir trunk, roused himself
suddenly.
"I never thought of it in that way," he said. "Still, lakes as big as
that one don't vanish."