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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
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RGL e-Book Cover
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IT was the first evening after Billy Strang's return to the mill on Windyridge Creek, and, tired with his long ride, he lay back comfortably in his chair by the door of the shack.
Presently he turned to Mart Medwin, the young African, who was his partner in the mill.
"Who's that chap, Mart?" he asked, pointing to an elderly and rather dirty Indian who was sitting some fifty yards away, on the bank of the creek, smoking a clay pipe and fishing.
Mart laughed.
"That's my 'old man of the sea,' Billy. I happened to do him a good turn about a month ago—pulled his little granddaughter out of the creek, and ever since then he and the kid have sort o' settled down to live on me."
"On the principle that one good turn deserves another," said Billy, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "But that's about the Indian way of looking at things."
"I guess he's harmless," replied Mart apologetically. "And he cuts kindling and catches a few fish. Anyway, I haven't the heart to turn him off."
"Don't think of it," said Billy quickly. "It's a pity if we can't spare him enough pork and beans to keep the life in him. We're doing well, Mart, and going to do better."
"Yes, I don't reckon we've got any cause to kick," agreed Medwin. "It was right smart of you to secure that contract from Moyes & Co. To say truth, I didn't imagine we'd be able to underbid Wardell."
"We evidently did," smiled Billy. "And mighty cross he is about it too. I met him down at Circle City, and you ought to have seen the way he scowled at me.
"He's an ugly-tempered fellow," said Mart thoughtfully. "I guess we'd best keep our eyes lifting. He'd be mighty apt to do us a bad turn if he had the chance."
"Don't you worry," replied Billy carelessly. "He's the sort that jaws a lot, but hasn't got the pluck to set the woods afire."
"That's just what I was thinking he might do," said Mart. "But I don't reckon they're dry enough to take much harm. Hallo! there's old Blue Feather coming up to the kitchen for his supper. I must go and see he gets some grub."
Billy smiled as he watched him.
"Just like old Mart. Always got a lame dog in tow. Well, if any chap deserves his luck, he does."
For a fact, the two partners were in luck. Mart had found a big tract of fine timber with plenty of water power, Billy had luckily had the capital to preempt the timber from the Government of British Columbia. For such youngsters, both had good business heads, and now they had things going, and, young as they were, saw fortune waiting for them at the end of a few years' hard work.
NEXT morning the mill was started at an early hour. The big
water-wheel turned steadily, the circular saws were screaming and
log after log of spruce and hemlock being hauled in and rapidly
turned into long white planks.
Billy and Mart worked with their men, and though the youngest of the lot, kept their ends up. At dinner-time Billy found Mart looking at the big pile of newly-sawn boards.
Mart turned with a smile.
"Goin' fine, Billy. At this rate we'll be well within our time on the Moyes contract. I did sort of think you'd cut the limit pretty fine, but with the stuff coming along like this there's no need to worry."
"I had to cut it, Mart. The firm is in a big hurry for the stuff. I shouldn't wonder if that's how we outbid Wardell."
"He don't get the work out of his chaps we do out of ours," replied Mart. "Come on in and eat your dinner, Billy. Old Blue Feather has earned his keep for once in a way, and caught us a string of trout."
There was no lack of appetite in the big bunk house. The amount of pork and beans, canned sweet corn, and coffee that disappeared would have scared a restaurant keeper. But Billy and Mart, with a big cheque in view at the end of three months, gave the men all they wanted. The hotter they fed them, the better they knew they would work.
At one the whistle blew, and all turned to again. Things went as well as ever until about four in the afternoon. Then all of a sudden there was a change in the note of the machinery. The big wheel slackened, the belts moved more slowly. A minute later everything came to a standstill.
"What's up?" cried Billy, and ran out.
Mart, following, heard him give a cry of dismay.
"The creek's run dry, Mart! There's not a drop of water coming down."
So it was. The rocks stood out bare in the bed of the stream. There was hardly a trickle in the bottom, and the dam had already fallen below the bottom of the race.
The two stared at one another.
"Reckon there's been a landslide somewhere up in the hills," said Mart presently.
"Then the sooner we clear it the better," replied Billy grimly.
"Too late this evening," Mart answered. "I guess we'd best wait till morning."
Billy nodded, and the two went slowly back to the mill.
THEY turned in early and were off before dawn—a party of
eight in all, armed with picks, shovels, and plenty of
dynamite.
All were rather silent. Even the loss of a day counted against them, and if the block was a bad one, it might take a week to clear it. Also, no one knew how far they would have to go before they found it.
The day was a hot one in late spring. There was no cleared track up the river, and it was hard going all the way. By midday they were twelve miles above the mill, and still looking at a dry river bed.
They had just sat down to cold pork and biscuits when a silent figure glided out of the woods and joined the group.
"Here's your old man of the sea, Mart," laughed Billy.
"He don't miss grub time very often," sneered Jim Conley, one of the men.
The old Indian paid no attention. He sat himself solemnly on a log.
"Oh, give him a bite of something," said Mart.
"He might ha' carried a pick," growled Conley. "And we ain't got too much grub along."
"He can have some of mine," said Mart, and shared with the Indian.
AN hour's rest, then they were off again. Another five miles
and suddenly they broke into a clearing.
Billy, who was leading, pulled up short. His face dropped. As the others crowded up they, too, stopped, and for a moment their surprise was too great for words.
Small wonder! There were nearly thirty men at work in the clearing, or rather in the river bed, and the mystery of the sudden water famine was suddenly clear. The river was dammed from bank to bank, and just above the dam a new channel had been cut, turning all the water into a shallow swamp which bordered the stream on the far side.
"It's that there hound, Wardell!" cried Jim Conley in sudden fury.
"That's who it is, depend upon it," said Mart to Billy. "I guess we're up against it, Billy."
At this moment a man came out of the dry river bed below the dam and walked towards them. He was tall and stooped. His arms were as long as an ape's. Scrawny whiskers grew under his sharp chin, and his eyes were red as a ferret's.
"Yew kin just git right off of here," he ordered in a high-pitched, nasal voice. "It's my property and I don't allow no one to trespass."
Billy stepped forward.
"It may be your property, Mr. Wardell, but you've no right to cut off our water. You know that as well as I do."
"I got the right to do as I like on my own place," blustered Wardell. "Ef yew think you got cause of complaint yew kin go to law if you've a mind to."
"And waste six months and all our money," retorted Billy. "No, thank you, Mr. Wardell."
There was an angry growl from the men behind.
"Law be jiggered!" said one. "You give us the word, Billy Strang, and we'll eat him and his law."
"You better try," snarled Wardell. "I got three to your one."
"You would," said Billy scornfully. "It would take about that many to hold my chaps. Especially as they all know that this is nothing but dirty spite on your part because you lost the Moyes contract."
"You kin think anything you likes," retorted Wardell sneeringly—"or do anything you likes. But ef you don't shift off my land mighty quick, my chaps'll put you."
Billy's men growled dangerously. He quieted them with a quick gesture.
"All right, Mr. Wardell," he said. "We'll leave for now, but look out for yourself against the time we come back."
"We'll be ready fer yew," jeered Wardell.
Billy led his men back into the woods. Their faces were dark and dangerous.
"No, Jim," said Billy firmly, as Conley began to protest. "Thirty to eight is too long odds. We'd only get mauled so bad that none of us would be able to work for a month."
"Be you going to set down and let that tough trample on you?" demanded Conley.
"Not me! But I'm not going to have half of you killed or disabled."
"You'll lose out on your contract," warned Conley.
IT looked as if he were right. The partners were certainly up
against it. Billy stood silent, frowning, racking his brains for
what was best to do.
"You leave um me. Me fix um Wardell."
Old Blue Feather was at Billy's elbow.
Billy stared.
"What do you think you could do, Blue Feather?" he asked with gentle contempt.
"You come along o' me. Me show you mighty quick."
"Where to?"
The Indian pointed up stream.
Billy turned to Mart.
"Think it's any use?" he asked.
"I guess I'd try. The old fellow's got a heap of sense.
"What's your plan, Blue Feather?" he asked.
"Me show you plenty soon," was all the old man would say.
"We'll give you a try anyhow," said Billy.
BLUE FEATHER'S eyes gleamed and he started off, making a round
so as to avoid the clearing. He went at a pace which kept them
all going hard, and kept it up mile after mile. The men began to
grumble, and demanded to know how much farther they were to go.
The Indian pointed to the hills which rose high in the North, but
said nothing.
That night they camped so high that they shivered in the cold wind off the ranges. Next morning Blue Feather led them on as rapidly as ever. He stuck close to the river, which here was a torrent racing down a deep gorge.
By ten they had passed the timber line, and were ankle deep in snow. On either side were great snow slopes, glistening in the bright spring sun.
"That Injun's plumb crazy, boss," growled Conley in Billy's ear, and just then Blue Feather, turned suddenly to the right, and began scrambling up the steep slope.
"There's method in his madness, Jim," said Billy. "Give him his chance. If it don't work we're no worse off than before."
Blue Feather picked his way cautiously through the snow, which was wet and soggy, and led them on till they gained a stony ridge too steep for snow to lie on. Here he stopped.
"You make um men go 'long hill, all same stung," he said to Billy. "Tell um pick big stones and roll um."
Billy stood silent staring at the solemn-faced old fellow.
"What's the use of that?"
"Start um snow. Dam um creek," replied Blue Feather curtly.
Billy gave a yell.
"Mart, he's hit it," he cried. "The old beggar has hit the nail right on the head."
Mart looked puzzled.
"What's the use? Wardell don't want the water."
"Of course he don't. But he'll get a darned sight more than he wants inside about twenty-four hours."
"Dat ees so!"
It was old Lenoir, a French Canadian, who spoke. "Le Injun vas right. Ve make ze big snow dam. Him break. Ten ze water, he come down viz one beeg rush. I guess he bust zat Wardell's dam higher zan ze kite."
There was a roar of delight from the rest of the men.
"Say, boys!" cried Conley, "the Injun's plumb right arter all. Scatter to your jobs. Roll the biggest rocks you can find. I'll lay old whiskers will be sorry for himself before a great while."
NOW that the men understood what was afoot, they wasted no
time. Scattering along the ridge, each loosened up a big boulder.
Then at a shouted command from Billy each rock went rolling over
and over down the slope.
At first they travelled slowly, but soon they gained speed and went hopping and bounding downwards at a tremendous pace. At every jump they loosened the snow, and suddenly, with a low roar, the whole snow-field began to peel off the slope, like a white table-cloth being dragged off a table.
"Whoop, let her rip!" yelled the men.
Rip she did, and next minute was pouring into the gorge with a sound like thunder. Inside five minutes a strip of snow a quarter of a mile wide and nearly as long had gone down solidly into the gorge and Billy and his men, running down to the edge as eagerly as so many schoolboys, found a dam thirty feet high blocking the gorge, while the water was already backing up behind it.
"Worked like a dream," said Billy, with huge satisfaction. "Now if she'll bust as sudden as she formed, the trick ought to be ours."
"Guess it's a case of 'wait and see,'" said Mart, and though he laughed his tone was anxious.
THEY went back into the timber to camp, and there they waited
all that night. Next morning the river was ponded back for nearly
a mile, and the water was just beginning to well over the top of
the dam.
Mart was dismayed.
"That dam'll never bust. She's just going to keep slow," he said.
"Him bust all right," replied Blue Feather shortly. "You watch um."
Watch they did, but it was not till past midday that the smash came. Then, just when they least expected it, there was a prodigious roar, and the whole great mass of snow broke away like so much sugar.
An enormous wave, capped with yellow foam, sprang forward and burst, crashing, down the gorge.
"Guess that settles it," said Mart, with a look of huge relief on his thin, brown face.
"We'll go and see," answered Billy, and started at a run.
It was a wild race down stream. The party covered in three hours a distance that had taken them five on the previous day.
Billy and old Blue Feather got there first, and the first thing that Billy saw, as he burst into the clearing, was a great heap of trees high as a house, surrounded by an acre or so of mud and stones.
He pulled up in dismay.
"Great Scott, the dam's bigger than ever!" he cried.
"Him no dam," said Blue Feather stolidly. "Dam, him busted."
Billy ran up to the spot. The Indian was right. The flood loaded with dead stuff which it had ripped up on its way down, had struck Wardell's dam, smashed it flat, and at the same time flung its cargo of uprooted trees on the bank on either side.
Of Wardell and his crew there was no sign at all. Where they had gone Billy did not know, and he certainly did not wait to inquire.
BY nightfall all were back at the mill. The dam was full. The
race roared cheerfully.
"Water came down all right about twelve o'clock," said Jamieson, the elderly Scots foreman. "We've been cutting all afternoon, Mr. Strang. What was the trouble, if I may ask?"
Billy turned to Blue Feather.
"Ask him, Jamieson. He'll tell you all about it. Won't you, Blue Feather?"
"Me tell um after supper," said Blue Feather, with a ghost of a twinkle in his solemn eyes.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.