Part 5

Coming, as this letter did, at a time when his mind was so much exercised by events at home and his uncertain prospects for the future, it is not surprising if it revived thoughts, and imparted some life and vigour to aspirations and secretly cherished desires for a participation in some of those visions of wealth which from day to day the papers were revealing as amongst the things possible to men of energy and resource.

So much has been said and written, of late, as to the enormous riches of such regions as the Kootney, Cariboo, and the Klondyke, that, without disparaging in the least other regions of the Dominion, it is not surprising to find the eyes of thousands turned wistfully in their direction.

It was only a few days prior to the receipt of his cousin's letter that he had read in one of the papers a statement made by an ex-Mayor of Ottawa, to the effect "that the new Yukon goldfields were the richest the world has ever seen."

True, that which followed was calculated somewhat to damp the ardent enthusiast.

It was not pleasant to be told that "hundreds of the people who are now going there will be starved and frozen to death."

Some, however, would win success, and why not he?

What if he were to join his two cousins already on the way, help them to complete their arrested journey, and, by making one common cause, unite their forces, and perhaps succeed in winning a success eclipsing the dreams of the most avaricious!

It was a subject which he felt was one to be thought over, and not hastily decided upon.

The next letter to his cousin was one in which, with some amount of detail, he described the position in which he had unexpectedly found himself placed, and the thoughts, not yet matured, which he entertained of joining them. He closed his letter with the expression of a desire to hear from them on the subject.

The lapse of a month brought the expected reply, strongly advising him to join them, and proposing that if he did so, and found the means for all to go forward, they would consent to his receiving a half share of whatever was realised, they taking the remaining half between them.

The proposal seemed eminently fair, so that it only remained for him to well consider the situation before him, and whether the ways and means could be procured for the undertaking.

His wife, who had not been informed of the plan lie was contemplating, had yet to be won over to his views. This proved not so easy a matter as he had dared to hope.

To the woman's mind the journey was fraught with risks and dangers which far outweighed whatever possibility might exist of realising the golden dreams, which at present, at all events, were too far distant for serious contemplation.

Furthermore, to say nothing of the toils and hardships he would have to face, and which she was fain to believe he was not man enough to endure, she wanted to know how long he expected to be away, and what he proposed for her and the children to do until his return.

So far as his own powers of endurance were concerned, he told her, he had no fears; and was prepared to face all the terrors and hardships of the journey, as well as the risks and dangers, in the search for gold.

The question of her own and the children's subsistence during his absence he confessed he had not carefully gone into, as he first wanted to get at a general expression of her views before considering what really was the most difficult aspect of the subject.

"I understand your mother is coming this afternoon; so suppose we leave the matter as it stands at present, that you may talk it over with her, hear what she has to say, and then when I come home we can go more fully into it together."

On his return in the evening, he was quickly informed that the two women regarded the scheme as being altogether a mad and impracticable proposal; one which no sensible married man ought for a moment to entertain.

Nor, if the truth were told, did Arnold himself quite see how the thing could be accomplished.

The main difficulty was how to provide for his family during an almost two years necessary absence. His wife's mother could have rendered this part of the task easy enough, had she been so disposed; but since no such proposal came from her, he himself was not willing to suggest it.

For the present, therefore, the idea was abandoned, and in the course of a week or two he wrote his cousins, stating fully the difficulties as they had presented themselves, and explaining that the financial bogey alone rendered it impossible for him to undertake the exploit, and that it was with infinite regret he had been compelled to that conclusion.

*CHAPTER XIII.*

*BROADSTONE LIBERALS.*

"Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne." _Richard II._, Act II. sc. i.

A parliamentary election was pending at Broadstone, through the decease of one of its sitting members.

The several election agents were busy marshalling their forces, in readiness for what it was believed would be a sharp contest. Party clubs were rallying their members, so that each club might bring forward the strongest possible candidate it could find. The local press were putting out feelers as to this man and that man's suitability, evidently with no very definite notion as to which of those named the choice was likely to fall upon.

Energetic correspondents were at work detailing to an open-mouthed clientele that So-and-so was being approached with a view to stand, only to furnish a paragraph for the next day's issue to the effect that the intelligence so reported was premature or unfounded.

The Radical caucus at length brought out their man in the person of Mr. E. Quinion, who was declared to be the "Working-Man's Friend," the foe to all tyranny and oppression, the advocate of Home Rule, and the extension of the popular vote. The Conservative party showed themselves equally eager for the political fray, declaring that their man was a staunch supporter of the rights of labour, but a determined opponent of Home Rule.

Canvassers began to be busy, meetings were arranged for, and the leading men from the London clubs were sent down to aid the cause of the candidates by their floods of eloquence.

As much of the rank and file of each party as could be usefully and judiciously employed was freely pressed into service. The Conservative agent having by some means got wind of Roberts and his grievance, invited him down to a meeting at Broadstone of the working-men, where, with several others, he was announced as a former employe of the great house of H. & E. Quinion.

Not being a trained speaker, but a man nervous as to his own capabilities, and without experience of an election audience, he felt that he had undertaken a risky business, and therefore it was with considerable apprehension he ventured to face a somewhat noisy assemblage, in a crowded hall, in a quarter of the city tenanted chiefly by the working classes.

Commencing in a low key at first, he was very soon met with exclamations from various parts of the hall of "What is thee afraid of?" "Speak up, mon!" "Hold thy head up!" which, instead of disconcerting, seemed to kindle what little fire there was in him, so that, in a voice which was heard at the other end of the hall, he cried out--

"Men of Broadstone, listen to me! The issue you are called upon to decide is an all important one, inasmuch as it affects not you only but the country at large. You have to decide which of two men is the most fitting to represent your interests in the Parliament of the nation. And it is with regard to one of these that I am chiefly concerned this evening. Your Radical friends have brought forward one they describe as 'The Working-Man's Friend'" (a voice, "So he is!"--Loud cheers). "Well, I shall be content if you will decide that question when I have finished. Nearly thirty years ago I entered the service in London of the firm of which he is a member, serving them faithfully and well, as letters in my possession will show. During that period they paid me well, and treated me fairly, and to that extent I have no fault to find with them. Whilst in their service I was the means of detecting successively six men who were robbing them. Two were at once sent away; one fled, and was never again heard of; one died whilst inquiry was pending; and the other two, at my instigation, were forgiven and retained.

"But what happened to me? At the end of nearly thirty years, I was given a month's notice to leave, and on inquiring the reason was told they had no fault to find with me, but they wanted to make certain changes which rendered this course necessary.

"Another man, who had served as long as I had done, and with an equally clean bill of health, was similarly treated. And when the gentleman who now wants to pose as the Working-Man's Friend was spoken to, as to the injustice of retaining a man in their employ who had been detected robbing them, and sending away honest men, with no flaw in their characters, at an age, and after such a lengthened period of service, when it would be quite impossible for them to obtain employment elsewhere,--I say, when your Working-Man's Friend was told this, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said 'he was sorry'!

"How did he manifest it? I asked him to reinstate me, but he declared that could not be done. I suggested that he ought to pension me! But the idea was not entertained.

"Two men in London were retained who were known to be 'lushers,' and did eventually drink themselves to death. One was frequently so intoxicated during business that he has been seen to sprawl his length across the showroom, and to be picked up almost helpless. After receiving notice to leave he managed to overcome the scruples of the firm, so that he was eventually retained, and gradually lapsed into his old ways, which ultimately were the death of him. This, I suppose, is what he calls being the Working-Man's Friend! I could mention other cases, but it seems to me that these are--or ought to be--enough to show that the man who wishes to be thought your friend has such a doubtful record that you will do well, before you decide to give him your votes, to put a few questions to him concerning the facts I have so imperfectly endeavoured to present to your notice."

When Roberts sat down, after comparing and commenting upon the political programme of the two candidates, it was with a round of applause uninterrupted by any opposing sound, and it was soon evident that an impression had been produced most unfavourable for the Radical candidate.

Much capital was subsequently made of the facts and statements uttered by Roberts, and an unusual amount of election literature was the outcome.

Efforts were made by the other side to deny the facts as stated, but without success.

He was prevented by the circumstances of the case from publishing the names of the individuals referred to, but particulars of these were supplied by him to the candidate, rendering it possible to verify the truth or falsity of his statement.

His efforts during the progress of the election, together with those of the party he was associated with, resulted in the triumphant return of the Tory candidate by a big majority, much to the chagrin and bitter disappointment of Mr. Quinion and his friends.

Privately, he was heard to say that had he anticipated the advent of Roberts into the fray, he would never have come forward to contest the seat, and Roberts' coming was not made known until it was too late for him to withdraw.

Flushed with the result of his efforts at Broadstone, Roberts returned to town, hoping, although scarcely expecting, that he might hear something from Mr. Quinion with regard to the statements he had made whilst on the stump.

He knew him to be a man who prided himself on his public reputation for fair dealing, and as this had been seriously impugned, he would not have been surprised had he received such a communication.

But the Oracle remained dumb, and Roberts' prospects did not improve; so that in a little while it threatened to become a serious question in what way he was to keep the wolf from the door.

He was told, however, on reliable authority, that one of the members of the firm had been heard to say he was very sorry they had been induced to make the changes complained of--it was no doubt a mistake, but it was too late now to rectify, as they dare not contemplate recalling their acts or retracing their steps. For good or ill, a certain course had been marked out, and it must be pursued.

*CHAPTER XIV.*

*CONVALESCENTS.*

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven." _All's Well that Ends Well_, Act I. sc. i.

During the months which had intervened since we last followed the fortunes of our friends at the Ranch, events had been moving forward most favourably.

Fellows had so far recovered that he was now able to resume work, and but for the scars of the burns received, which were still visible on face and hands, there was little outwardly to denote the terrible sufferings he had gone through.

The young woman who had suffered so severely in the fatal railway collision was just capable of getting about, but the doctor said it would yet be some time before she acquired the full use of her limbs.

To lighten the arduous duties of Mrs. Ranger, which the care and attention needed by the invalids had necessarily thrown upon her, the services of Russell's daughter, so opportunely rescued by Fellows, were called in, and proved a most invaluable aid.

Miss Russell, to whom Sir Walter Scott's descriptive line might well have been applied, "Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile," was a remarkably intelligent young woman, scarcely nineteen, who three years before, on the death of her mother, had emigrated with her father, and found employment at Farmer Ranger's Ranch. She was not regarded as a field-hand, but employed in domestic and home duties, which, properly attended to, were sufficient to occupy the major portion of her time, leaving little to be wasted in idleness.

A fresh hut or shanty had very speedily been raised upon the site of the one destroyed by the fire, and Russell had resumed his old habits.

The attention which her father's home required, and the duties she was called upon to discharge at the homestead, fully occupied all the hours of the day at her disposal, besides making frequent inroads upon those which should have been reserved for repose.

Yet, notwithstanding these demands, she still found it possible to have an occasional chat with Fellows, a strong friendship having sprung up between the two during the period of her attendance, whilst he was being nursed back to convalescence, and which promised to ripen into a closer attachment still.

A dwelling had been raised for the Bartons some few yards from the homestead itself, in which they had been comfortably installed, whilst awaiting the result of their correspondence with Arnold in London.

When the letter from Arnold arrived, the contents of which has already been indicated, it created a profound feeling of disappointment and regret.

From the tenor of his previous communications they had been led to hope for a very different result, and in anticipation of a rather early forward movement had allowed their imagination freer play than was perhaps good for them. The disappointment was, therefore, all the keener when this letter reached them, which at one blow shattered the structures their fancy had been at such pains to elaborate.

After carefully considering their position, and the funds still at their disposal, they held a consultation with Ranger as to the course it would be best to adopt. That advice was readily given.

"A little capital," said he, "makes the start easier, and saves valuable time. But I have known many men do without it. Hundreds have arrived in these parts without any capital whatever, and by first working for wages have prospered and become substantial farmers. My advice to you, therefore, would be, don't be in a hurry, but continue to keep your eyes and ears open, and in the event of any suitable homestead being obtainable, let me know, and we may be able to so arrange matters as to secure it for you. And whatever you do, don't let the Klondyke craze divert your mind from that which is possible and within comparatively easy reach."

The two men thanked Ranger very heartily for his advice, and promised to think over what he had said.

"I don't understand how Jim managed to make such a fool of us as well as himself," remarked the elder Barton, when, seated smoking their pipes at the door of their hut, in the cool of the evening, they discussed the events of the day.

"Nor I," said his brother.

"Very likely, however, his wife wouldn't hear of his going away."

"That may have had a great deal to do with it."

"It's very disappointing, as it seems to me we shall be forced to act upon Ranger's advice."

"Which, of course, means that we must give up all idea of getting out to the Klondyke."

"Does that follow, Charley, as a matter of course?"

"I think so, Jack; for if we get settled here on our own location, it will not be so easy to throw that up and run off."

Farmer Ranger's education as a youth had been sadly neglected, and in later years he missed much of that enjoyment which is theirs who have a well-trained or a stored mind.

As a boy he was sent to the village school, where he was introduced into some of the mysteries of the three "R's," but the death of his father, when he was quite young, compelled his mother to send him into the fields to maintain the home over their heads. Subsequently, for a brief period, he went to the parish school on Sunday, where, after the appointed lesson in the Bible had been read, the remainder of the time was usually given up to some goody-goody story, which the children regarded as the most interesting feature.

As may be judged, his secular and religious knowledge were of a very limited character, and when he left school it was with no very exalted conceptions of the value of the education he had received.

One habit, however, was formed by his attendance at the parish school,--which grew with his growth,--and that was the daily reading of the Bible. Whatever else was neglected, this he was never known to omit. He had never been in the habit of attending church or chapel, and since his arrival in the regions of the "Wild West" such a thing as a clergyman, or a preacher of any description, was a rarity. But he was a man of good moral principles, one who never sought to obtain the best of a bargain by any underhand methods, ever ready to do unto others as he wished others to do to him.

He loved his neighbour as himself, nor stayed to inquire "Who is my neighbour?" He had but to be shown the need, to render all the help it was in his power to give.

His wife, having been a farmer's daughter, had proved herself in every way adapted for the kind of life they had adopted.

"Well, so long as we continue to work for the farmer, we had better be as economical as possible; save all we can, and then, when the time or opportunity arrives, and a suitable homestead is to be had, we can determine whether to put what we possess into it and settle down to a farmer's life, or if we shall endeavour to make a push and get through to the Yukon."

"Meanwhile, I don't think we could do better than stay where we are and work for Ranger, who seems a thoroughly honest fellow."

Ranger had been located at Qu'Appelle about eight seasons.

Originally a farm-bailiff for a small landed proprietor in North Devon, he had, together with his wife and a son and daughter, determined to try his fortune in the North-West of America. After realising the little property he possessed, he found that he had in hard cash close upon one hundred and twenty pounds.

Being attracted by the general features and local surroundings of the lovely valley of the Qu'Appelle, he was fortunately able, in those early days, to secure a section of land owned by the railway company, not very distant from the railway, by which means increased facilities were afforded for marketing his produce.

Commencing with what is known as a quarter section--one hundred and sixty acres--he had gradually increased his holding, until now he was the proprietor of six hundred and forty acres of some of the finest land to be found in America.

At no period over-burdened with serviceable and experienced hands, he was generally open to avail himself of a favourable offer of help when it presented itself.

The Bartons, with their Old World experience, were additions he was very ready to welcome, and to find them suitable remunerative occupation.

Harvesting, which begins about the middle of August and ends early in September, was nearly over; and the young woman rescued from the railway accident had made such good progress towards convalescence that she was now able to get about and make herself useful.

The farmer and his wife had frequently, of late, taken the opportunity of discussing with her of an evening, when the work of the day was over, the future and its prospects, without being able to arrive at any very satisfactory conclusion.

Her case was a peculiarly sad one. When the accident overtook her, of which she was so unfortunate a sufferer, she was travelling in the company of an uncle and his two sons, who contemplated settling in the neighbouring province of Alberta.

She was anticipating being married shortly to one of her cousins, in the event of everything turning out favourable; but to her inexpressible grief she was informed, as soon as recovery had sufficiently advanced to render such a communication safe, that all three had been killed; so that she was now alone, in a strange land, without a friend save those who had so kindly acted the part of "Good Samaritan."

Although for a time the consequences of such a revelation seemed likely to be serious, youth and a good constitution in the end triumphed, and she began to regain a little of that buoyancy and activity which those who had known her would have expected her to display.

But the memory of those dear to her, of whom she had been so suddenly and painfully bereaved, could not be so easily effaced; and the languor of her manners, and the melancholy expression which in hours of idleness would steal over her, sufficiently served to mark the influence which reflection was bound to exert, and the grief too deep for utterance which remained.

The railway company had arranged to make ample provision for her, so that little concern was felt on that score; but for the present it was undecided what course it would be best for her to pursue.

In the unsettled, or only half settled, districts of the great North-West, where woman, if not a minus quantity, is very often in many parts a _rara avis_, the advent of one is always regarded with marked attention and considerable interest.

Under any circumstances Mary Truman would have been a welcome guest at Farmer Ranger's, whilst from the unfortunate nature of her surroundings she was now made to feel doubly welcome.

To the elder Barton, it was very easy to be seen, she had become an object of peculiar interest, but her sorrow and suffering were yet of too recent a date to admit of much safe speculation with regard to the future.

*CHAPTER XV.*

*NAT LANGHAM'S.*

"You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house." _Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act III. sc. iv.

It is not so many years ago that the lands through which the lines of the Great Trunk Railway of Canada run, after leaving Winnipeg, away up to Calgary in the "Rockies," were the happy hunting-grounds of the Cree and Blackfeet Indians. Now the traveller sees little besides a number of small towns and thriving settlements, all along the line.