Part 7

Forrest moved to the window, squaring his back to the room. He stood looking down across the orchard and the maple-lined streets of the town, to the shining sea; but his hand groped for the casing and held it with a steadying grip. The Judge drew nearer. He dropped his hand on the young man's shoulder, and the tender, insistent pleading that was the chief charm of the orator dominated his voice. "I know I am facing very possible defeat. It is natural that you two should think a good deal of each other, Paul, and there isn't another man on earth to whom I could better trust her. I am fond of you; I believe in you; I have called you the man of the future Northwest. Still she has chosen that hard life up in the wilderness, and you are leaving her there. If there is nothing between you, if you do not love her, I shall ask her to go to Washington with me--to be my wife."

Forrest turned. His face was gray; suddenly older. "I don't stand in your way," he said. "I am just her friend, the one she depends on. That's all. She refused me."

"She refused you?" The Judge laid both hands on the young man's shoulders, compelling his look. "She refused you? And you love her--_like this_."

Forrest drew away from his detaining grasp. "I must catch that steamer," he said. He went back to his chair and picked up his hat. "Good-by." He lifted his head, smiling a little, and offered his hand; but his glance moved beyond the Judge to the window once more, and he started. "She is here," he added unsteadily. "She is there with her sister on the terrace. Good-by and _good luck_."

He was gone and the Judge stood regarding the closed door. Then a light step on the threshold of the open window roused him and he turned.

"Good morning, Uncle Silas," she said, "I had to come right in and congratulate you on the election, though Louise told me you were talking business with Paul."

Her glance searched the room. Disappointment clouded her face.

"He was here," answered the Judge. "He hurried away to catch the steamer back to Freeport."

"Why," she said in surprise, "Louise told me he came over with them in the _Phantom_ to hear the returns, and I thought--of course it was expected he would wait to go back with them after the ball. But," and she turned with recovered brightness to the small boy who stood waiting on the threshold, "this is Lem Myers, Uncle Silas. He came to see town and the salt water."

"Good morning," said the Judge, weighing this future voter with speculative eyes. "Good morning. You are just in time for a cruise. To-morrow my nephew will show you what the _Phantom_ can do. I suppose you never have boarded a yacht?"

"Wal, no," Lem moved towards the chair the politician offered, stepping high in new and unaccustomed shoes. "No, I dunno's I hev."

"But of course the first thing, you want to try Olympia oysters. Hop Sing manages a good pan roast." He rang and gave the order to the Chinese cook, and Lem proceeded to adapt himself to the elegant appointments of the table.

The teacher had taken the opposite chair. "Oh," she said presently, "I know I have missed things; torchlight processions and rallies, and orations,--I shall read that last speech directly,--and I'm sure you have been serenaded by all the bands. I do love a band, Uncle Silas."

"They will play again," said the Judge, laughing, "and I hope one at a time, and tonight you can enjoy the ball. But no doubt that is what brought you all the way from Nisqually. You expect to lead that ball."

She shook her head. "Your first dance belongs to Mrs. Governor, Uncle Si; we can't choose. That's the penalty of greatness."

The Judge laughed again, a soft rumble. "My dear," he said, after a moment, "isn't it about time you left off calling me Uncle?"

She looked at him, flushing, with quick surprise. "I understand," she said softly, "I understand. I should have thought of it long ago. Of course I always speak of you differently to strangers, but among ourselves--why-- It was you who taught me, at the first, when I was a little girl."

"Oh, but you don't understand," he replied hurriedly. "I mean--you see, my dear, when you were a child a young man seemed so much your senior; the years between us do not count so much since you are a woman. In short, it should be more natural to call me just Silas--or even Si."

"Call you--Si? Oh, how could I?" and she threw her head back and laughed and laughed. "Good morning--Si. I congratulate you on the election--Si--" the words came with difficulty, between trills of merriment. "I am very proud of you--Si. But it was what we expected; you are the one man big enough for the place--Si--and all the territory knew it. Oh, indeed, indeed, I cannot. It's so ridiculously familiar. But, yes, I will do it, I'll try if you--" she paused and looked away through the open window. "The truth is--of course I want to go to the ball, immensely, but I came from Nisqually really--because--to ask--"

The Judge laughed, his pleasant undernote. "I see," he said, "I see, you are ready to come home. I've expected it; I've waited for it, and I've missed you more than you can ever know. But things are changed. I am going East in a few months and the house here will be closed. You do not want to make your home with Louise at Freeport." He broke off and walked over to the window. Directly he turned, and, with his back to the light, his hands clasped loosely behind him, stood regarding her. "The home here was broken up when you went away," he added, "and I shall find it lonelier still at Washington--unless--"

"Oh," she interrupted brightly, "I'm sure you will be very gay there. Think what it means; to be the representative from the big new Northwest. A man distinguished, almost rich, and a bachelor. Why, you will never have a dull moment--Si."

He caught the swift look from under her lashes and smiled. "You are still laughing at me, yet that life at the capital would suit you well. You were meant for pleasant places, to hold your own among bright women and distinguished men. And I am eager to show what manner of woman the crude West can produce. My dear, you would outshine them all."

"Oh," she said, and clapped her hands an instant to her ears, "you need not practise those fine speeches on me, your success is assured; you will live in a whirl. And don't trouble about me, Uncle Silas; I'm not asking to come home. I--I only want you to go to the Land Office with me. I--I am going to--file a claim."

"You are what?"

"I am going to locate a homestead." And her voice tripped on the word.

"You are going to locate a homestead? You?"

"Oh, Uncle Silas,"--she rose and walked a few steps, then turned facing him with tilting chin and ruffled brows. "Why do you stand and frown like that at me? I'm not the first woman to take up Government land. Do you know of any reason why I shouldn't? I'm native born, and I'm twenty-one."

Lem cast an appreciative wink at the Judge, and, having reached familiar terms with the dish which Hop Sing had placed before him, he devoted himself to a second generous installment of Olympia oysters.

"But," said the Judge, "you are not going to improve that homestead like any settler? You do not intend to live there?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice again wavering, "I do. I am having the trail cut through to the schoolhouse now; Mose Laramie is doing it, and I have made a contract with him to cut the logs for my cabin. In payment he is to have the best gun I can find in Olympia. I want you to help me select it. But this is the piece,"--she paused to draw a township plat from her pocket. "It is all that's required; the soil is a good loam; a fairly level bottom-land at the foot of a great side-hill. And at the same time, I want to make a timber filing on the adjoining quarter up the slope. It is almost free of undergrowth except along the stream. There are some fine old trees. You see, too, the section is at the headwaters of the Des Chutes and I want to secure the water rights to these falls."

She was unmistakably in earnest and the incredulity in the Judge's face changed to dismay. He took the map and studied it. "I see," he said slowly, "I see." There was a brief silence, then his voice, that voice of the orator, took its pleading undernote. "Why will you do this thing? If you must create your own opportunities, there are other ways. Why, it is unbelievable. If ever there was a woman made for civilization, you are that one, yet you choose to bury yourself in the wilderness; to take up a claim in the heart of a jungle; to share the hardships of rough and ignorant pioneers."

"But I am a pioneer," and he saw the rising storm in her eyes, "the daughter of pioneers. You taught me to be proud of it, Uncle Silas; you loved to remind me my mother was born on the Columbia, and that her father, a New England missionary, followed Marcus Whitman to Oregon. You never let me forget that my other grandfather was among the first to enter the Straits of Fuca, and sailed his own ship a hundred miles, straight up Puget Sound, without chart or pilot. You called it a great record. And my father was the pioneer surveyor. You talked about those seasons you spent in camp with him, while he blazed the great military road through the forest, running his section lines over rocky spurs and through cedar swamps, until I should count it a triumph to have carried chain for him. You see it was born in me, Uncle Silas. I can't help it--and I've got to turn it to the best account. It was my only inheritance."

Her voice broke at the last, and the assurance dropped from her like a shell. She stood before him, lovely, irresistible, extenuating a weakness.

"Oh," he said in evident distress, "you have misunderstood me. I wouldn't have you any different. Surely you know it? To me you are the embodiment of all that is fine and sweet and best in this great Northwest that I love. You are the spirit of it all. And your people were above criticism, Alice. Only, the memory of their fortitude makes me tremble for you. Your father, that splendid young fellow with almost a lifetime before him, was cut off in ambush; and your mother--was drowned in the Cowlitz. I want to have you--safe."

He began to walk the floor, slowly, with his hands still clasped behind him, his head bent, a cloud on his face. And she waited in respectful silence, watching him with a sweet and regretful tenderness in her eyes. She believed she understood those memories from which had sprung all his great kindness to her. Finally he stopped at the table and again spread out the plat. "This must be near the section Forrest told me about," he said. "Why, it looks like the very one. He was debating on taking it up, himself, at the time I offered him the management at Freeport."

Her glance fell before his inquiring look, and the ready color flamed. "Paul doesn't know," she said. "Please say nothing about it to any one. You see, Uncle Silas,--you see--the country is being settled very fast, and if I don't make this entry, some one else will."

There was another brief silence, then the Judge said, "Poor Forrest! you are even bent on taking his chosen section of land."

The color leaped again in her face. She moved a few steps to the window and stood with her back to him, looking down through the orchard to the shimmering Sound. "He told you?" she said.

"Yes, he told me. I asked him. It had always seemed so natural you should care something for him; he is well worth caring for. It seems incredible that you should refuse a fine, interesting young fellow like him." He paused, and his voice took its soft undernote. "I asked him, Alice, because I want to take you to Washington. There is only one way I can ask you to go. My dear, you understand--I love you."

She moved, startled, and laid her hand on the casing, where Forrest's had been, waiting. It was the gesture of a woman who feels suddenly, without premonition, the foundations of her world shake. He saw her shoulders lift; her whole body trembled. His glance passed from her, through the window, and on down the slope to the shining sea, and slowly returned. "It is, then, impossible," he said. "I am impossible. Well, forget all about it, little girl; it's all right. It's all right. Your happiness first; nothing else counts."

"Dear Uncle Silas." She turned, smiling, though her lip quivered and she brushed her hand across her eyes. "_You_ count. I owe all I am to you. And you--are not impossible. I--I'm very fond of you. Its true--Silas." She nodded her head brightly, and dashed her hand again across her eyes. "And I will go to Washington--I'll be--glad--proud--to be--your wife--as soon as the homestead is safe."

*CHAPTER X*

*LEM AND THE PHANTOM*

Lem never forgot that ball. The teacher found him a nook from which he overlooked the entire floor; and he never tired of recounting to the always newly impressed settlement, the glories of the pageant. How "ther Jedge led ther parade an' was ther biggest toad in ther hull puddle." How "two fiddles an' er pianer an' er horn kep er goin' all ter oncet. An' clothes--ther Nisqually hedn't never seed sech clothes. Why, ther schoolmarm herself was fixed ter beat ther band, in er dress as soft an' thin as tons o' tissue paper, an' er gold chain, fine as er thread, clamped 'ith shiny little stones; an' she hed er mighty fine an' sassy feather--he couldn't fur ther life of him tell off'n what bird--stuck in her hair. An' pretty, land, ther wa'n't a girl there could hold er candle to her. An' ther boys all knew it; some of 'em, Mr. Stratton fur one, 'lowed they wouldn't dance 'ith nobody ef it couldn't be her; an' ther minute ther fiddles struck up somebody was on hand ter streak her off. Gee, they'd orter seen her. She jest picked up er handful o' white goods, an' her little feet went chasin' in an' out like er couple o' chipmunks foolin' in er holler cedar stump."

But if the ball was unforgettable, the cruise on the _Phantom_, the following day, marked an epoch in Lem's life.

"I think," said the teacher, as they approached the water front, "we shall come back at flood-tide with a fine, choppy sea." Her eyes caught the sparkle of the waves, and she inhaled the salt air in deep, full breaths. There was the noise of running water about the piers, and the flat kerthug of the _Phantom_ as she rose and dipped uneasily; but no whitecaps as yet, though the Sound, whipped by passing gusts, darkened and ruffled fitfully.

"Oh," said Stratton, who had joined the little party, "you will come back in the teeth of a gale, I promise you."

Philip stood regarding Lem with quizzical gravity. "I never knew it to fail with a new hand aboard, and this time I believe we're shipping a Jonah."

Stratton laughed softly, and handed the ladies aboard. Lem watched the feat with growing concern.

"There was once a man from Missouri," said Kingsley seriously, "who had to be lassoed the first time, and brought aboard."

"I'll resk it," and Lem pushed hastily forward, setting his feet on the gangplank and reaching for the Captain's hand.

"That's right, my boy; and it may encourage you to know that Missourian lived to be our mayor in time."

The _Phantom_ swung out with a lurch, and, slipping into the seat next the teacher, Lem grasped firm hold. Stratton took the helm and Philip went to the shrouds. The sails swelled to a scurrying gust, then flapped loosely. They filled again from another quarter and the yacht careened to the swinging boom. Lem's clutch tightened. Alice covered his hand with her palm. "Isn't it fine?" she asked.

"I'd ruther be erstride o' Ginger." He met her smile with a sidelong glance and looked again with apprehension at the flapping canvas. "But Jake 'lowed I'd git used to it."

"Who is Jake?" inquired Stratton.

"Jake?" Lem relaxed his grip on the rail, for the _Phantom_ settled steadily. "Jake? He's my cousin; Samanthy's brother. An' he's be'n clear ter British Columby. He went over oncet fur ther Queen o' Victory's birthday."

"And he had a great time, I'll wager," said Kingsley, coming back to the helm.

"Yes, but he counted on seeing ther Queen. He 'lowed she'd be to ther head o' ther parade, 'ith her gold crown on, an' ther rest o' her fine truck."

"And wasn't she?"

"Naw, she wa'n't ther. Aunt Lucindy 'lowed ther hull thing was er fizzle; but then she counted on bringin' back er lot o' goods; cloth an' hats an' shoes; I dunnot what all. You kin get 'em twice as cheap over to Victory ef you don't hev ter pay no duty. An' she made errangements 'ith ther neighbors ter do buyin' fur em."

"And," said Kingsley, "I suppose she made other arrangements to elude the Customs officers?"

"Ef you mean she laid out ter fool ther Gov'ment men, you're right. She made er mattress ter fit over ther one on the steamboat, an' she filled it 'ith ther goods. But they was too sharp fur her. Fust thing she knew ther boss was haulin' off ther covers, an' er rippin' open that ther tick. An' he poured ther stuff all out onter ther cabin floor, 'ith ther hull crowd lookin' on; an' Jake says they laughed like all purzest. An' he took the goods,--Jake 'lowed he kept ther pile,--'ith Aunt Lucindy er cryin' an' er takin' on."

"But it was smuggling, Lem," said the teacher in dismay. "I hadn't believed a Myers could do a dishonorable thing."

Lem threw back his head and narrowed his ferret eyes. "You kin jes' bet er Myers ain't er goin' ter let er good chancet slip; not ef he knows it; no, ma'am."

He thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned back comfortably in his seat. But if the temporary ease of the yacht had lulled his apprehensions they were speedily revived by a lurch that carried away his hat and enveloped his head in spume. He sprang to his feet, spluttering, clutching at the helm, losing his foothold on the slanting deck, while the _Phantom_ raced down before the sudden flaw.

"Why, Lem, it's all right, there isn't a bit of danger. And you shall have a new hat." The teacher placed a dry cushion and drew him down into his seat. She wrapped him in a shawl, pulling it snugly over his head, and he cuddled in it like a frightened squirrel, making a peephole for his small, bright eyes.

Her own hat was gone and she bent to search a locker trying at the same time with one hand to secure a loosened mass of wet, curling, wind-roughened hair. Presently she brought to light an oilskin hat, which she drew over her head, tilting the brim so that the rollicking wind had still a chance at the shorter hair, tumbling it, twisting it into burnished spirals about her ears. She stood for a moment, catching easily the swing of the yacht, and looked far out across the stirring reach of blue. And surely the spirit of that dauntless explorer, her grandfather, dominated her; there was an exaltation in her face; delight in every breath she drew.

Stratton watched her in undisguised pleasure. "There is no other country as favorable to the traffic," he was saying. "It is utterly impossible to guard the whole border. A regiment of soldiers might be able to patrol the woods on the mainland, but it is easier to trail an Indian than to follow a fleet craft through the Archipelago de Haro."

"No doubt that's the way most smuggling is carried on," replied Kingsley. "And it's an open secret that there are men on Puget Sound, living right in Seattle, fine, well-established men, who wouldn't defraud each other or any business man out of a dollar, yet conduct a systematic and successful opium ring."

Louise turned to him in protest. "Oh, Philip, you don't know such men, personally. You ought not to repeat such an idle rumor. Of course, if you had grounds for the suspicion, knew certain circumstances, you would do all in your power to aid the Government to apprehend these men. To stand neutral is to connive in--_crime_."

"Oh, Mrs. Kingsley, that is a harsh word." The quick flush that leaped in Stratton's face as quickly died, leaving it pale. His glance moved seaward. "There are enormous duties on some things, for instance--opium." He paused and his look returned; he smiled. "You forget you, yourself, are descended from people who objected, strenuously, to the payment of exorbitant duty. But we should hardly say that those exemplary Bostonians, who appropriated a whole cargo of tea, committed a crime."

"Oh," she said, with growing indignation, "how can you draw such a comparison? How can you? We are a young territory, Mr. Stratton, with a wide, unsettled border. What will become of us if the few educated and able men among us fail? If they wilfully break established laws; sink to the level of common smugglers, thieves?"

She rose in fine scorn from the place beside him and took a distant seat. Stratton's look followed her and the flush again left his face pale. "But I forgive her," he said at last, softly, "I forgive her, she is so charming when she is angry. Where most any other woman's voice would shrill, hers always drops to that nice contralto note."

"And you know she is right," said Alice, taking the vacant place. "It's just what I should have said, if she hadn't."

"Yes?" And he smiled again. "That surprises me--after that experience on the mountain."

"That was different. Mose believed he was justified. He was true to his traditions. That summit was his holy of holies and we were vandals come to desecrate." Her eyes turned to the great crest of Mt. Rainier, looming out of the southeast, its crater hollowed gently, like a throne between its triple alabaster domes. "Whenever I try to shake that belief I feel guilty, Mr. Stratton. It's so much more beautiful than any I can offer in exchange. After all, the most I can do is to educate Mose in other ways, and give him an occupation. The rest may come."

"I am hopelessly dense," said Stratton. "I fail to see why you draw the line so sharply. You forgive that young rascal of a horse thief and help him. But you are uncompromising, exacting, if a man has the misfortune to be--well--a gentleman."

She gave him a level look. "I consider the motive; whether he knows better."

"Oh," said Philip, laughing, "you don't know her, Stratton. In her secret heart she'd love to be a smuggler and a pirate, and defying the Government, go sailing down among those purple islands of De Haro. And principle or no principle, it would be great fun, I confess, to match my little boat against a revenue cutter. Only give me the wind and a fair start, and I could set a pace for the best of them. There isn't a channel I haven't taken her through; and I'll wager I know every tide-rip and shoal the Sound over."

Kingsley said what he pleased; his life was an open sea. If sometimes he ran too close into the wind, he knew, or he thought that he knew, how to recover, but his glance moved to his wife and rested a moment.

But clearly Louise no longer listened. Her face, the face of a dreamer, rapt, sensitive, was turned to the Olympic Mountains, shining across the ruffled sea. It was as though she saw farther than other women, and beyond those amethyst peaks and shoulders, breaking through cloud, up at the source of those shafts of mellow light, that struck the gorges between the blue foothills, she found a higher country all her own.

He drew his frame erect and began to whistle, lifting his eyes to the swelling sails. Then Alice took the guitar from a sheltered place and caught the accompaniment. And presently they began to sing.

"'Twas a gallant bark, with a crew as brave As ever launched on the seething wave."