The Highgrader, Page 3

  CHAPTER II

  MR. VERINDER COMPLAINS

  Jack Kilmeny followed the pathway which wound through the woods alongthe bank of the river. Occasionally he pushed through a thick growth ofyoung willows or ducked beneath the top strand of a neglected wirefence.

  Beyond the trees lay a clearing. At the back of this, facing the river,was a large fishing lodge built of logs and finished artistically inrustic style. It was a two-story building spread over a good deal ofground space. A wide porch ran round the front and both sides. Upon theporch were a man in an armchair and a girl seated on the top step withher head against the corner post.

  A voice hailed Kilmeny. "I say, my man."

  The fisherman turned, discovered that he was the party addressed, andwaited.

  "Come here, you!" The man in the armchair had taken the cigar from hismouth and was beckoning to him.

  "Meaning me?" inquired Kilmeny.

  "Of course I mean you. Who else could I mean?"

  The fisherman drew near. In his eyes sparkled a light that belied hisacquiescence.

  "Do you belong to the party camped below?" inquired he of the rockingchair, one eyeglass fixed in the complacent face.

  The guilty man confessed.

  "Then I want to know what the deuce you meant by kicking up such aninfernal row last night. I couldn't sleep a wink for hours--not forhours, dash it. It's an outrage--a beastly outrage. What!"

  The man with the monocle was smug with the self-satisfaction of histribe. His thin hair was parted in the middle and a faint straw-coloredmustache decorated his upper lip. Altogether, he might measure five feetfive in his boots. The miner looked at him gravely. No faintest hint ofhumor came into the sea-blue eyes. They took in the dapper Britisher asif he had been a natural history specimen.

  "So kindly tell them not to do it again," Dobyans Verinder ordered inconclusion.

  "If you please, sir," added the young woman quietly.

  Kilmeny's steady gaze passed for the first time to her. He saw a slightdark girl with amazingly live eyes and a lift to the piquant chin thatwas arresting. His hat came off promptly.

  "We didn't know anybody was at the Lodge," he explained.

  "You wouldn't, of course," she nodded, and by way of explanation: "LadyFarquhar is rather nervous. Of course we don't want to interfere withyour fun, but----"

  "There will be no more fireworks at night. One of the boys had abirthday and we were ventilating our enthusiasm. If we had known----"

  "Kindly make sure it doesn't happen again, my good fellow," cut inVerinder.

  Kilmeny looked at him, then back at the girl. The dapper little man hadbeen weighed and found wanting. Henceforth, Verinder was not on the map.

  "Did you think we were wild Utes broke loose from the reservation? Ireckon we were some noisy. When the boys get to going good they don'tquite know when to stop."

  The eyes of the young woman sparkled. The fisherman thought he had neverseen a face more vivid. Such charm as it held was too irregular forbeauty, but the spirit that broke through interested by reason of itshint of freedom. She might be a caged bird, but her wings beat for theopen spaces.

  "Were they going good last night?" she mocked prettily.

  "Not real good, ma'am. You see, we had no town to shoot up, so we justpunctured the scenery. If we had known you were here----"

  "You would have come and shot us up," she charged gayly.

  Kilmeny laughed. "You're a good one, neighbor. But you don't need toworry." He let his eyes admire her lazily. "Young ladies are too seldomin this neck of the woods for the boys to hurt any. Give them a chanceand they would be real good to you, ma'am."

  His audacity delighted Moya Dwight. "Do you think they would?"

  "In our own barbaric way, of course."

  "Do you ever scalp people?" she asked with innocent impudence.

  "It's a young country," he explained genially.

  "It has that reputation."

  "You've been reading stories about us," he charged. "Now we'll be on ourgood behavior just to show you."

  "Thank you--if it isn't too hard."

  "They're good boys, though they do forget it sometimes."

  "I'm glad they do. They wouldn't interest me if they were too good.What's the use of coming to Colorado if it is going to be as civilizedas England?"

  Verinder, properly scandalized at this free give and take with ahaphazard savage of the wilds, interrupted in the interest ofpropriety. "I'll not detain you any longer, my man. You may get at yourfishing."

  The Westerner paid not the least attention to him. "My gracious, ma'am,we think we're a heap more civilized than England. We ain't got anymilitant suffragettes in this country--at least, I've never met up withany."

  "They're a sign of civilization," the young woman laughed. "They provewe're still alive, even if we are asleep."

  "We've got you beat there, then. All the women vote here. What's thematter with you staying and running for governor?"

  "Could I--really?" she beamed.

  "Really and truly. Trouble with us is that we're so civilized we bendover backward with it. You're going to find us mighty tame. Themelodramatic romance of the West is mostly in storybooks. What there wasof it has gone out with the cowpuncher."

  "What's a cowpuncher?"

  "He rides the range after cattle."

  "Oh--a cowboy. But aren't there any cowboys?"

  "They're getting seldom. The barb wire fence has put them out ofbusiness. Mostly they're working for the moving picture companies now,"he smiled.

  Mr. Verinder prefaced with a formal little cough a second attempt todrive away this very assured native. "As I was saying, Miss Dwight, Iwouldn't mind going into Parliament, you know, if it weren't for thebally labor members. I'm rather strong on speaking--that sort of thing,you know. Used to be a dab at it. But I couldn't stand the bounders thatget in nowadays. Really, I couldn't."

  "And I had so counted on the cowboys. I'm going to be disappointed, Ithink," Miss Dwight said to the Westerner quietly.

  Verinder had sense enough to know that he was being punished. He hadtried to put the Westerner out of the picture and found himselfeliminated instead. An angry flush rose to his cheeks.

  "That's the mistake you all make," Kilmeny told her. "The true romanceof the West isn't in its clothes and its trappings."

  "Where is it?" she asked.

  "In its spirit--in the hope and the courage born of the wide plains andthe clean hills--in its big democracy and its freedom from convention.The West is a condition of mind."

  Miss Dwight was surprised. She had not expected a philosophy of thisnature from her chance barbarian. He had the hands of a working man,brown and sinewy but untorn; yet there was the mark of distinction inthe lean head set so royally on splendid shoulders. His body, spare offlesh and narrow of flank, had the lithe grace of a panther. She hadseen before that look of competence, of easy self-reliance. Some of themen of her class had it--Ned Kilmeny, for instance. But Ned was anofficer in a fighting regiment which had seen much service. Where hadthis tanned fisherman won the manner that inheres only in a leader ofmen?

  "And how long does it take to belong to your West?" asked the youngwoman, with the inflection of derision.

  But her mockery was a fraud. In both voice and face was a vivideagerness not to be missed.

  "Time hasn't a thing to do with it. Men live all their lives here andare never Westerners. Others are of us in a day. I think you wouldqualify early."

  She knew that she ought to snub his excursion into the personal, but shewas by nature unconventional.

  "How do you know?" she demanded quickly.

  "That's just a guess of mine," he smiled.

  A musical voice called from within the house. "Have you seen my_Graphic_, Moya?"

  A young woman stood in the doorway, a golden-white beauty with softsmiling eyes that showed a little surprise at sight of the fisherman. Afaint murmur of apology for the interruption escaped her lips.

  Kilme
ny could not keep his eyes from her. What a superb young creatureshe was, what perfection in the animal grace of the long lines of thesoft rounded body! Her movements had a light buoyancy that was charming.And where under heaven could a man hope to see anything lovelier thanthis pale face with its crown of burnished hair so lustrous andabundant?

  Miss Dwight turned to her friend. "I haven't seen the _Graphic_, Joyce,dear."

  "Isn't it in the billiard room? Thought I saw it there. I'll look,"Verinder volunteered.

  "Good of you," Miss Joyce nodded, her eyes on the stranger who hadturned to leave.

  Kilmeny was going because he knew that he might easily outwear hiswelcome. He had punished Verinder, and that was enough. The miner hadmet too many like him not to know that the man belonged to the family ofcommon or garden snob. No doubt he rolled in wealth made by his father.The fellow had studied carefully the shibboleths of the society withwhich he wished to be intimate and was probably letter-perfect. None theless, he was a bounder, a rank outsider tolerated only for his money. Hemight do for the husband of some penniless society girl, but he wouldnever in the world be accepted by her as a friend or an equal. Thethought of him stirred the gorge of the fisherman. Very likely the manmight capture for a wife the slim dark girl with the quick eyes, oreven her friend, Joyce, choicest flower in a garden of maidens. Nowadaysmoney would do anything socially.

  "Cheekiest beggar I ever saw," fumed Verinder. "Don't see why you letthe fellow stay, Miss Dwight."

  The girl's scornful eyes came round to meet his. She had never beforeknown how cordially she disliked him.

  "Don't you?"

  She rose and walked quickly into the house.

  Verinder bit his mustache angrily. He had been cherishing a fiction thathe was in love with Miss Dwight and more than once he had smartedbeneath the lash of her contempt.

  Joyce sank gracefully into the easiest chair and flashed a dazzlingsmile at him. "Has Moya been _very_ unkind, Mr. Verinder?"

  He had joined the party a few days before at Chicago and this was thefirst sign of interest Miss Seldon had shown in him. Verinder wasgrateful.

  "Dashed if I understand Miss Dwight at all. She blows hot and cold," heconfided in a burst of frankness.

  "That's just her way. We all have our moods, don't we? I mean we poorwomen. Don't all the poets credit us with inconstancy?" The leastripple of amusement at her sex swelled in her throat and died away.

  "Oh, by Jove, if that's all! I say, do you have moods too, Miss Joyce?"

  Her long thick lashes fluttered down to the cheeks. Was she embarrassedat his question? He felt a sudden lift of the heart, an access ofnewborn confidence. Dobyans Verinder had never dared to lift his hopesas high as the famous beauty Joyce Seldon. Now for the first time hisvanity stirred. Somehow--quite unexpectedly to him--the bars betweenthem were down. Was it possible that she had taken a fancy to him? Hisimagination soared.

  For a moment her deep pansy eyes rested in his. He felt a suddenintoxication of the senses. Almost with a swagger he drew up a chair andseated himself beside her. Already he was the conquering male inheadlong pursuit. Nor was he disturbed by the least suspicion of havingbeen filled with the sensations and the impulses that she had contrived.

  Miss Seldon had that morning incidentally overheard Lady Farquhar tellher husband that Dobyans Verinder's fortune must be nearer two millionpounds than one million. It was the first intimation she had been giventhat he was such a tremendous catch.