The Gold Trail | Page 6

discolored bruise on one of his cheeks and a
big lump on his forehead. He was glad to stand still a moment, for he
had been shoveling gravel for several hours, and that is an occupation
that conduces to an unpleasant stiffness about the waist. He was,
however, somewhat puzzled by the red-haired Cassidy's sardonic grin.
"Well," said the latter, with an air of reflection, "I guess you might do if
you got a piece of raw steak from the cook and tied it around your
face."
"For what?" asked Weston, sharply.
"For a packer. The boss's friends are going camping in the bush."
Weston did not answer immediately, for in that country, where roads
are still singularly scarce, packing usually means the transporting of
heavy loads upon one's back. The smaller ranchers are as a rule adept at
it, and when it is necessary, as it sometimes is, will cheerfully walk
over a mountain range with a big sack of flour or other sundries bound
upon their shoulders. Four or five leagues is not considered too great a

distance to pack a bushel or two of seed potatoes, or even a table for the
ranch, and Weston, who had reasons for being aware that work of the
kind is at least as arduous as shoveling gravel, did not feel greatly
tempted by the offer. Cassidy seemed to guess what he was thinking.
"It's a soft thing I'm putting you on to, as a special favor," he explained.
"It will be up-river most of the way, and I've got a couple of Siwash to
pole the canoes. All you have to do is the cooking, make camp, and
tend to Miss Stirling's friends when they go fishing." He waved his
hand, and added, as though to clinch the argument, "I've known people
of that kind to give a man that pleased them ten dollars."
Weston's face flushed a little, but he said he would go; and the next day
the party started up-river in two Indian canoes. Besides Weston and the
dark-skinned Siwash packers, it consisted of four: a tall, elderly man
called Kinnaird, with the stamp of a military training plain upon him;
his little, quiet wife; his daughter, who was somewhat elaborately
dressed; and Ida Stirling. Kinnaird and his daughter traveled in the
larger canoe with the Indians and the camp gear, and Mrs. Kinnaird and
Miss Stirling with Weston in the other.
Though Weston was more or less accustomed to the work, he found the
first few hours sufficiently arduous. It is not an easy matter to propel a
loaded canoe against a strong stream with a single paddle, and it is
almost as difficult to pole her alone; while there were two long portages
to make, when the craft and everything in them had to be hauled
painfully over a stretch of very rough boulders. Kinnaird took his share
in it, and Weston was quite willing to permit him to do so; but the latter
was floundering toward the canoes alone, with a heavy load on his
shoulders, when he came to a sharply sloped and slippery ledge of rock.
It was very hot in the deep valley, and the white stones and flashing
river flung up a blaze of light into his eyes; while he limped a little
under his burden, for his foot was still painful. He had no idea that
anybody was watching him; and, when he slipped and, falling heavily,
rolled down part of the slope, scattering the packages about him, he
relieved his feelings with a few vitriolic comments upon the luxurious
habits of the people who had compelled him to carry so many of their

superfluous comforts through the bush. Then he set about gathering up
the sundries he had dropped. First of all he came upon a lady's parasol,
white outside and lined with green. He regarded it with a rueful smile
when he had tried and failed to open it.
"Trouble ahead," he commented. "It cost eight or nine dollars anyway,
and now it's broken."
Then he came to a rather big valise, which swung open and poured out
part of its contents when he lifted it by the handle. They seemed to
consist of voluminous folds of delicate fabric and lace, and he was
gazing at them and wondering how they were to be got back into the
bag when he heard a voice behind him.
"Will you kindly put that down?" it said.
Weston dropped the bag in his astonishment; and, swinging around
suddenly, he saw Miss Stirling standing in the shadow of a great cedar.
He had been too busy during the journey up the river to pay much
attention to her; but now it occurred to him that she was not only pretty
but very much