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<h2 class="newchapter">XXVI DEERING TAKES THE TRAIL</h2> Stannard was marked by a superficial languidness. Strangers thought him careless and his humorous tranquillity had charm. For all that, when speed was important he moved fast and after he telephoned to the station he got to work. He packed rucksacks for his companions, got ropes and ice-axes, and arranged with the hotel cook to put up a supply of food. Then he sent a messenger for two or three half-breeds who carried loads for fishing parties. Stevens helped and admitted that Stannard knew his job. All he did was carefully thought about. After some time Dillon joined them and Stannard said, "It's awkward, but Willmer at Revelstoke is engaged. However, he states he can send us a useful man and we are to meet him at the station. He'll come by the train in the morning and we'll get on board. We ought to reach the railroad hut Jimmy talks about by dark and if the night is clear we'll push on." "If the police are about the station where we get off, they may stop us." "It's possible," Stannard agreed. "Still they don't know our object and we must persuade them we are mountaineering tourists. Boast about your climbing and the Canadian Alpine Club; Stevens knows their exploits. All the same, I imagine the police are in the mountains. Well, your sack is packed, and when you have got your snow-spectacles and the grease for your skin, we'll stop for a smoke." In the morning the half-breed packers arrived and soon afterwards all were ready to start. The hotel servants and three or four guests came to see them go, but when the others strapped on their loads Stannard joined Laura on the steps. "Well, we are going to Jimmy's help," he said with a smile. "Frank is very keen, but as far as possible I'll try to see he does nothing rash. To know your marriage is fixed is some comfort." Laura looked up quickly. Although Stannard's smile was kind, she was vaguely disturbed. "When Frank wanted the wedding soon I thought you agreed rather easily. I was satisfied to stay with you for some time." "Oh, well," said Stannard. "I'm afraid I haven't carried out my duties. I'm a careless fellow and feel my daughter does not owe me much. Although you have grown up beautiful and attractive, Nature and your aunts are accountable. Then, you see, I'm getting old, and mountaineering is my hobby. Sometimes one slips on an icy rock—" "You mustn't talk like that; it hurts," said Laura with a touch of emotion. "You gave me all I asked for; you have always indulged me. Then I urged you to go, and now I feel I ought not to urge. To be generous in my way costs one nothing. I shall not venture on the rocks; I send you." Stannard laughed, but Laura, studying him, was moved. Her father was handsome and wore the stamp of high cultivation. Although he was not young, he carried himself like an athlete. She knew his strength and pluck and his gentleness to her. Now she thought him fine and chivalrous. "You follow your heart," he said and kissed her. Then he pulled out his watch. "But I must not be selfish and Frank is waiting." Dillon advanced and Stannard resumed: "Youth is romantic and sometimes exaggerates. Laura imagines her generosity and yours accounts for my starting on our adventure. Well, perhaps I'm slow and cautious, but now and then one recaptures a touch of one's boyish rashness. However, I mustn't philosophize. We must get off in a few minutes." "I'll join you on the trail," said Dillon, who remarked that Stannard implied that he hesitated to go. Stannard had said something like that before, as if he wanted others to note that the plan was not his. All the same, it was not important, and Dillon took Laura's hand. Five minutes afterwards the party started. The packers carried the heavy loads, the others the ice-axes, and Stevens and Stannard wore round their shoulders coils of Alpine rope. Where the trail turned they stopped for a moment and waved their hats, and then vanished in the trees. Some time afterwards Laura saw a plume of black smoke roll across the pines and stole off to her room. She did not want Mrs. Dillon's comfort. Her father and her lover had started for the rocks, and if they paid for their rashness, she was accountable. In the morning she got a jar, for a sergeant of the Royal North-West Police arrived at the hotel. He was polite but firm, and Laura saw she must brace up. Mrs. Dillon had gone with her to the rotunda and to know she had her help was some comfort. "Mr. Stannard started for the mountains yesterday," the sergeant remarked. "He took a quantity of camp truck and two of your friends. Where did he go?" "I don't altogether know his line," Laura replied. "When you climb high mountains you cannot make fixed plans. Much depends on the snow." "Well, I expect Mr. Stannard stated where he meant to start?" "Why, of course," said Mrs. Dillon. "He'd get off at the Green River depot." The sergeant remarked her frankness, but thought she saw some frankness was indicated, because for him to find out where the party had got off was not hard. "Do you know Mr. Stannard's object? Our clubmen go for the rocks in summer. His starting now was strange." Laura lifted her head and her look was proud. She thought she could play up and the fellow must not imagine Stannard had gone to Jimmy's help. "My father is not a Canadian clubman. He's a famous Alpine mountaineer and can go where others cannot." "Our boys are pretty smart," said the sergeant, smiling. "But are all Mr. Stannard's party expert mountaineers? Mr. Stevens, for example? And Mr. Frank Dillon?" "My son," said Mrs. Dillon, who saw the other had talked to the hotel clerk. "Frank knows something about the rocks and belongs to a club that explores the Olympian range. We're Americans." The sergeant bowed politely, but she resumed: "Mr. Stannard's English, all the lot are tourists and I sure can't see what the Canadian police have to do with their going off to climb your rocks. You're not going to draw strangers to the country if you bother them like that." "Sometimes the police's duty is awkward," said the sergeant in an apologetic voice. "The police have not much grounds to inquire about my father's excursion," Laura remarked haughtily. "When he killed the big-horn he did not know he poached on a game reserve, but he paid the fine and it is done with." The sergeant saw her eyes sparkled and she was not playing a part. She did not know all he knew, and he must not enlighten her. "Not long since Mr. Stannard went shooting with the pit-light, which is not allowed, and the game-warden was shot." "My father did not shoot the warden; he stayed and helped the police." "Three of his party pulled out," the sergeant rejoined. "Maybe Mr. Leyland could put us wise about the shooting and we reckoned Mr. Stannard knows where he is." "Then you must wait for his return. If you found his track, I don't suppose you could follow him on the rocks." "In the meantime, you're resolved not to help us hit his track?" "I don't know his track," Laura replied. The sergeant went off. He had talked to the hotel clerk, and although he had not found out much from Laura, he had found out something. The girl was persuaded Stannard had gone to help Leyland, and the sergeant thought his plan really was to help the young fellow get away. In fact, the sergeant thought he saw Stannard's object for doing so. Laura, however, was disturbed. She was anxious for Jimmy and knew the risks Stannard ran in the mountains, but she imagined she had baffled the sergeant and she resigned herself to wait for news. When the next train for the coast rolled across the pass Deering was on board a first-class car. He was dressed like a city sportsman, but his clothes were thick and his shooting jacket was lined with sheepskin, for Deering knew the wilds. When he went to Vancouver his movements interested the police, but at Calgary they left him alone, and nothing indicated that they now bothered where he went. Deering thought it strange, unless they knew something he did not. In the meantime, he was occupied by another subject. Although he meant to see Jimmy out, he had frankly no use for hiding much longer at the ranch. Jimmy must be smuggled across the boundary to the United States and Deering weighed a plan. When he got down at the station he meant to push on for Jardine's, but Kelshope was some distance off and he resolved to stop at the hotel. He had been for some time at Calgary and Stannard would perhaps know if Jimmy was all right. The clerk sent for Laura and by and by she came down. She gave Deering a cold glance, but he had long known her antagonism. "You cannot see my father. He and Frank are in the mountains," she said. Deering knitted his brows. When winter had begun one did not start for the rocks for nothing. "It looks as if the police have found out Jimmy was at his ranch." "Then, Jimmy was at the ranch? We didn't know; he did not come to see us. I expect you stopped him!" "You don't trust me, Miss Laura. Still you ought to see Jimmy dared not come to the hotel." "I did not think you a proper friend for Jimmy and Frank." Deering smiled. He knew he was a better friend of Jimmy's than Stannard, but he said, "Oh, well; perhaps it's not important. Anyhow, Jimmy trusts me, and I mustn't let him down. You imply he's not at the ranch?" Laura told him about Jimmy's note, and he inquired about Stannard's plans. When she had satisfied his curiosity his look was thoughtful. "Stannard will send back the packers at the bottom of the rocks," he remarked. "Has he got a guide?" "He could not engage the guide he wanted. Another man about whom I don't think he knew much was sent." "Your father needs a useful man. Jimmy's steady on an awkward pitch, but sometimes he's rash. The others are raw boys. It looks as if I've got to hit the trail." "Frank is not a boy, and my father is a famous climber," Laura rejoined. "If he cannot cross the mountains, do you think it's possible for you? Then you ought to have started before. The police have followed Jimmy for some time and I think another party set off yesterday." Deering thought to embarrass him gave her some satisfaction, but he smiled. "I know you're not my friend, Miss Laura, and I must try to be resigned. All the same, unless you put me wise, it may be awkward for Jimmy. What about the last lot of police?" She told him and he bowed. "Thank you! I'll get off." "But the sergeant is in front of you and there is not a train." "The police are pretty smart, but I've known them bluffed," Deering remarked. "Then the station agent and another fellow talked about a construction train's going up the line. I've traveled on board a calaboose before." Laura hesitated, and then gave him her hand. "After all, I think you want to help, and if you agree to leave Frank alone—" "I rather think you don't know your power," Deering rejoined with a twinkle. "Frank is well guarded from all my wiles. In fact, I'm willing to give you best." "Oh, well," said Laura, "perhaps I was not just." He went off and Laura mused. She had not liked Deering. He was a gambler and exploited the extravagance of rich young men. Yet Frank trusted the fellow and she began to doubt if her antagonism were altogether warranted. For one thing, Deering was stanch, and his pluck was rather fine. Her father had started with a well-equipped party; Deering went alone, and when he got to Green Lake must baffle the police. Then she liked his humorous politeness. He knew she doubted him, but he was not revengeful. On the whole, she thought when she gave him her hand she took the proper line. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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