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<h2 class="newchapter">XXIII MARGARET TAKES A PLUNGE</h2> For a time Jimmy was not disturbed at the ranch. On the high rocks the frost was keen, but in the deep valley a gentle wind from the Pacific melted the snow. Jimmy dared not order sawed lumber, but Jardine got him a door and windows and the house was warm. Sometimes he went shooting and sometimes he went to Kelshope. Jardine was friendly, but when the rancher had gone to look after his stock Jimmy was resigned. To sit by the fire and talk to Margaret was a delightful occupation. At the beginning he had remarked her beauty, but now he knew beauty was not all her charm. Margaret was clever; she saw his point of view, and when she did not agree her argument was logical and keen. Then she was proud and fearless, and he sensed in her something primitive. Margaret was his sort and sprang from stock like his. Yet he felt her physical charm. Her eyes were sea-blue, and in the firelight her hair was like red California gold. She had a bushman's balance, and her unconscious pose was Greek. Although she was frank, with something of a great lady's frankness, Jimmy soon knew her fastidious. But for his part in the shooting accident, his satisfaction would have been complete. It looked as if the police had resolved to leave him alone, and Deering had made one or two excursions to the cities, but Jimmy doubted. He knew the Royal North-West do not forget. Moreover, somebody shot Douglas, and on the whole he thought he had done so. Sometimes he wondered whether he ought to go to Kelshope, but all the same he went. When Deering was at Calgary, Margaret one afternoon rode home from the station as fast as possible. At the ranch she took down the load of groceries but left the horse tied to a post. Jardine was by the fire and had pulled off his boot. In the morning he had cut his foot with his ax. He gave Margaret a keen glance and saw she had ridden fast. "Weel?" he said. "Is something bothering ye?" "Two troopers and their horses came in on the freight train. I expect they're looking for Mr. Leyland." "Ah," said Jardine. "Somebody has given the lad away." "Bob," said Margaret and her eyes sparkled. Jardine knitted his brows. "Maybe, but I dinna ken; Bob hasna been around for long. Did the troopers saddle up?" "When I left, they were cinching on their camp truck. I thought they'd soon start. Mr. Leyland can't come down the valley and Deering's not with him. Where is he to go?" "If he could make Green Lake, Peter would put him on the Mission trail." "He cannot make Green Lake," Margaret rejoined. "He doesn't know the bench country and must start in the dark." "Jimmy must start soon. If he stays, the troopers will get him," Jardine agreed, and indicated his cut foot. "Somebody must warn the lad, but I canna gang." Margaret tried to brace up, for she had not reckoned on her father's lameness. The strange thing was, Jardine had walked some distance to round up his cattle. She must, however, weigh this again. Speed was important and Jimmy was her friend; in fact, she had begun to think him her lover. "You could ride the cayuse and carry the packs. If Mr. Leyland was not loaded he could make a good pace." "The cayuse wouldna carry a weight like mine across the bench belt and Green Lake's a two-days' hike. I canna walk; I doubt if I could get on my boot," Jardine replied, and added with philosophical resignation: "It's a pity o' the lad! I expect the police are noo on the ranch trail, but I dinna see how we can help." Margaret clenched her hands. Somebody must warn Jimmy and her father declared he could not. She looked at him hard and knew he could not be moved. He gave her an apologetic glance and began to fill his pipe, as if the thing was done with. Yet it was not done with. Margaret saw, rather vaguely because she refused to think about it, all her going to warn Jimmy implied, since if her help was to be useful, she must go with him to Green Lake. For a few moments she hesitated, but she was generous and her pluck was good. Then she turned to Jardine, who had begun to smoke. "The police shall not get Mr. Leyland. I will go." "Verra weel," said Jardine. "If ye mean to gang, ye had better start. Ye'll need to take some food; I'll get the saddle bag." He crossed the floor and Margaret remarked that for a few steps he went lightly, as if his foot did not hurt. Then he limped, and when he got to the door he stopped and leaned against the post. All the same, it was not important and Margaret began to pack some food and clothes. Ten minutes afterwards, she untied the horse and gave Jardine her hand. "Good-bye," she said in a quiet voice. "I don't know when I shall get back." Jardine held the stirrup, she seized the bridle, set her mouth and started the horse. When she vanished in the woods Jardine went back to the house, rested his foot on a chair, and knitted his brows. He saw he ran some risk, but he knew his daughter and thought he knew Jimmy. Jimmy was a white man; Jardine, so to speak, bet all he had on that. Some time afterwards, Jimmy, cooking his supper, heard a horse's feet and went to the door. He smiled, because he thought he knew the horse; but Margaret was obviously riding fast and snapping branches indicated that she had cut out a bend of the trail. When she got down her color was high and the horse's coat was white. "Roll up your blanket and put the sling on your rifle," she said. "Then I'll help you pack some food." Jimmy studied her with surprise. Her look was resolute, but he got a hint of embarrassment. Then he saw a light. "Ah!" he said. "The police are on my track?" "Two troopers are riding up the valley. They may stop at Kelshope for a few minutes. Where do you keep your groceries!" Jimmy opened a box, and Margaret picked out a number of articles. "Now make a pack, because you must start at once for my cousin's at Green Lake. I expect Peter will help you south." "But I don't know the trail, and it will soon be dark." "Make your pack! The police will arrive in a few minutes," Margaret rejoined impatiently and turned her head. "There is not a trail. I am going with you." "No!" said Jimmy with some embarrassment. "You're kind, of course, but you ought to see—— If you start me off, I expect I can find my way." Margaret turned and fronted him. The blood came to her skin and her look was strained. "You can't find the way and I can't go back. The police know I'm not at the ranch, and if I start for home, I'll meet them in the valley. But we mustn't talk. We must get off." Jimmy leaned against the table and frowned. Although his heart beat, he hesitated. He knew Margaret's pluck and he loved her, but she must not pay for her rash generosity. One must think for the girl one loved. "Suppose the police do know you warned me? It's awkward, but perhaps that's all. Anyhow, I'll go down and meet them. Since I expect I shot warden Douglas, I must bear the consequences." "Oh, but you are obstinate!" Margaret exclaimed and used Stannard's argument. "It looks as if one of your party meant to shoot Douglas and the police have not caught the man. They must catch somebody and they'll try to fix the shooting on you. To join the chain-gang would be horrible." "The thing has not much charm," Jimmy agreed and was rather surprised by his coolness, but he was cool. "I don't know much about the police code, but I rather think they'd stop at——" He heard a noise and Margaret turned. "I put up the rails," she said in a sharp voice. Jimmy went to the window and saw a mounted policeman pull down the slip-rails at the fence and ride through the gap. Then he heard a quick step and looked round. Margaret had got his rifle. The butt was at her shoulder and the barrel rested against the doorpost. Jimmy saw her face in profile; her mouth was set tight, her glance was fixed and hard. He jumped for the door, but struck a chair and the collision stopped him. The rifle jerked and a little smoke floated about the girl. When Jimmy reached the door he saw the policeman's horse stumble. The trooper leaned back, tried to pull his foot from the stirrup, and fell with the animal. Jimmy thought it rolled on him, but after a few moments he crawled away from its hoofs. The horse was quiet and the man got up. His movements were awkward and he looked dully at the house. Margaret pushed Jimmy back and put the rifle to her shoulder. A sharp report rolled across the clearing, twigs fell from a quivering pine branch, and the trooper vanished in the woods. Jimmy's hands shook, but his relief was keen. "I expect his rifle's in the bucket under the horse and the horse is dead," Margaret remarked. "I was forced to shoot." "Ah!" said Jimmy hoarsely. "I thought you had hit the man!" Margaret's pose was stiff, as if she braced herself, but she smiled. "He knows I shoot straight. Until his partner comes and helps him get his rifle, he'll stop in the woods." "But perhaps the other's not far off." "He's at the ranch," said Margaret "He'd stop to see if you were about and try to find out something from father. Father would keep him as long as possible——" She stopped and turning her head resumed: "But the first fellow knows a woman shot his horse. When I put up the rifle, he was riding for the door." "I expect that is so," said Jimmy. "After all, you must go to your cousin's. Let's start!" Margaret said nothing. When Jimmy brought her horse she got up and he ran by her stirrup. For a time she went up the valley, and then turning back obliquely through thin timber, pushed up a steep hill. Near the top she stopped and Jimmy got his breath and looked down across the trees. Dusk was falling and all was very quiet. Gloom had invaded the clearing, but he saw a small dark object he knew was the policeman's horse. A thin plume of smoke went up from his house; his fire was burning, and he wondered when it would burn again. For a few moments he was moved by a strange melancholy, and then his heart beat. "I hate to go away. If you were not with me, I think I'd stay and risk it all," he said. "I was happy at the ranch; in fact, I soon began to see I hadn't known real happiness before. At the beginning I was puzzled, but now I can account for it. You were at Kelshope——" "Not long since you didn't want me to go with you," Margaret remarked. "Oh, well," said Jimmy with some awkwardness, "you hadn't yet shot the policeman's horse." Margaret said nothing and he seized the bridle, pulled 'round the cayuse, and forced her to look down. "Will you marry me at the Mission, Margaret?" She met his glance and hers was proud. "I think not, Jimmy. You are a white man and mean to take the proper line. But I will not marry you because I stopped the trooper." Jimmy threw back his head and she liked his frank, scornful laugh. "Now, you're altogether ridiculous! Your stopping the fellow does not account for my wanting to marry you. Soon after I got to work at the ranch I knew I loved you, but I went to the mountains with Stannard and the trouble began. So long as the police were hunting for me I dared not urge you." "But now you urge me? It looks as if your scruples had vanished!" Jimmy let go the bridle and bent his head. "I suppose it does look like that. All the same, I love you." Margaret leaned down and touched him gently. "You keep your rules, and your rules are good. Perhaps it's strange, but I think a woman will break conventions where a man will not. Still, you see, I'm proud——" "You are very hard," Jimmy rejoined. "Yet you ran some risk to warn me. I know your pluck, but if you had not loved me, I think you'd have stayed at Kelshope." "We'll let it go," said Margaret in a quiet voice. "There's another thing; ranching is a game for you, but it's my proper work. Yours is at the cotton mill. You're rich and your wife must be clever and cultivated." "I haven't known a girl with talents, grace and beauty like yours," Jimmy declared. "Then I'm not rich yet, the police are on my track, and I may soon be a prisoner——" He looked up and added in a dreary voice: "I admit it's not much of an argument for your marrying me." Margaret smiled "Perhaps you were not logical, but we'll talk about it again, when we get to Green Lake. You mustn't talk now. I don't know if the trooper would stop long at the ranch, and we must cross the hill before the moon is up." She started her horse and they pushed on. An hour afterwards the moon rose from behind a broken range, and silver light touched the stiff dark pines. The high peaks sparkled; a glacier glimmered in the rocks, and the mists curling up from the valley were faintly luminous. Jimmy smelt sweet resinous smells and heard a distant river throb. The landscape was strangely beautiful, but its beauty was austere. All was keen, and cold, and bracing, and Jimmy, walking by Margaret's bridle, thought her charm was the charm of the stern and quiet North. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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