The Major

R >> Ralph Connor >> The Major


"When it comes to the question of defending women and children it seems
to me that the question is changed," said his mother. "As to that I can
never quite make up my mind, but generally speaking we hold that it is
the Cross, not the sword, that will save the world from oppression and
break the tyrant's power."

"But after all, Mother," replied Larry, "it was not Smithfield that
saved England's freedom, but Naseby."

"Perhaps both Naseby and Smithfield," said his mother. "I am not very
wise in these things."

At the door of their house they came upon Nora sitting in the moonlight.
"Did you meet Ernest and Mr. Romayne?" she inquired. "They've only gone
five minutes or so. They walked down with us."

"No, we did not meet them."

"You must be tired after the wild excitement of the day, Mother," said
Nora. "I think you had better go at once to bed. As for me, I am going
for a swim."

"That's bully; I'm with you," said Larry.

In a few minutes they were dressed in their bathing suits, and, wrapped
up in their mackintosh coats, they strolled toward the little lake.

"Let's sit a few moments and take in this wonderful night," said Nora.
"Larry, I want to talk to you about what we heard to-night from those
two men. They made me feel that war was not only possible but near."

"It did not impress me in the very least," said Larry. "They talked as
military men always talk. They've got the war bug. These men have both
held commissions in their respective armies. Romayne, of course, has
seen war, and they look at everything from the military point of view."

As he was speaking there came across the end of the lake the sound of
voices. Over the water the still air carried the words distinctly to
their ears.

"Explain what?" It was Switzer's voice they heard, loud and truculent.

"Just what you meant by the words 'slanderous falsehood' which you used
to-night," replied a voice which they recognised to be Jack Romayne's.

"I meant just what I said."

"Did you mean to impugn my veracity, because--"

"Because what?"

"Because if you did I should have to slap your face just now."

"Mein Gott! You--!"

"Not so loud," said Romayne quietly, "unless you prefer an audience."

"You schlap my face!" cried the German, in his rage losing perfect
control of his accent. "Ach, if you were only in my country, we could
settle this in the only way."

"Perhaps you will answer my question." Romayne's voice was low and clear
and very hard. "Did you mean to call me a liar? Yes or no."

"A liar," replied the German, speaking more quietly. "No, it is not a
question of veracity. It is a question of historical accuracy."

"Oh, very well. That's all."

"No, it is not all," exclaimed the German. "My God, that I should have
to take insult from you! In this country of barbarians there is no way
of satisfaction except by the beastly, the savage method of fists, but
some day we will show you schwein of England--"

"Stop!" Romayne's voice came across the water with a sharp ring like the
tap of a hammer on steel. "You cannot use your hands, I suppose? That
saves you, but if you say any such words again in regard to England or
Englishmen, I shall have to punish you."

"Punish me!" shouted the German. "Gott in Himmel, that I must bear
this!"

"They are going to fight," said Nora in an awed and horrified voice.
"Oh, Larry, do go over."

"He-l-l-o," cried Larry across the water. "That you, Switzer? Who is
that with you? Come along around here, won't you?"

There was a silence of some moments and then Romayne's voice came
quietly across the water. "That you, Gwynne? Rather late to come around,
I think. I am off for home. Well, Switzer, that's all, I think, just
now. I'll say good-night." There was no reply from Switzer.

"You won't come then?" called Larry. "Well, goodnight, both of you."

"Good-night, good-night," came from both men.

"Do you think they will fight?" said Nora.

"No, I think not. There's Switzer riding off now. What fools they are."

"And Jack Romayne is so quiet and gentlemanly," said Nora.

"Quiet, yes, and gentlemanly, yes too. But I guess he'd be what Sam
calls a 'bad actor' in a fight. Oh, these men make me tired who can't
have a difference of opinion but they must think of fighting."

"Oh, Larry, I don't understand you a bit," cried Nora. "Of course they
want to fight when they get full of rage. I would myself."

"I believe you," said Larry. "You are a real Irish terrier. You are like
father. I am a Quaker, or perhaps there's another word for it. I only
hope I shall never be called on to prove just what I am. Come on, let's
go in."

For a half hour they swam leisurely to and fro in the moonlit water. But
before they parted for the night Nora returned to the subject which they
had been discussing.

"Larry, I don't believe you are a coward. I could not believe that of
you," she said passionately; "I think I would rather die."

"Well, don't believe it then. I hope to God I am not, but then one can
never tell. I cannot see myself hitting a man on the bare face, and
as for killing a fellow being, I would much rather die myself. Is that
being a coward?"

"But if that man," breathed Nora hurriedly, for the household were
asleep, "if that man mad with lust and rage were about to injure your
mother or your sisters--"

"Ah," said Larry, drawing in his breath quickly, "that would be
different, eh?"

"Good-night, you dear goose," said his sister, kissing him quickly. "I
am not afraid for you."



CHAPTER XII

MEN AND A MINE


It was early in July that Mr. Gwynne met his family with a proposition
which had been elaborated by Ernest Switzer to form a company for the
working of Nora's mine. With characteristic energy and thoroughness
Switzer had studied the proposition from every point of view, and the
results of his study he had set down in a document which Mr. Gwynne laid
before his wife and children for consideration. It appeared that the
mine itself had been investigated by expert friends of Switzer's from
the Lethbridge and Crows' Nest mines. The reports of these experts were
favourable to a degree unusual with practical mining men, both as to
the quality and quantity of coal and as to the cost of operation. The
quality was assured by the fact that the ranchers in the neighbourhood
for years had been using the coal in their own homes. In addition to
this Switzer had secured a report from the Canadian Pacific Railway
engineers showing that the coal possessed high steaming qualities. And
as to quantity, the seam could be measured where the creek cut through,
showing enough coal in sight to promise a sufficient supply to warrant
operation for years to come. In brief, the report submitted by the young
German was that there was every ground for believing that a paying
mine, possibly a great mine, could be developed from the property on Mr.
Gwynne's land. In regard to the market, there was of course no doubt.
Every ton of coal produced could be sold at the mine mouth without
difficulty. There remained only the question of finance to face. This
also Switzer had considered, and the result of his consideration was
before them in a detailed scheme. By this scheme a local company was
to be organised with a capitalisation of $500,000, which would be
sufficient to begin with. Of this amount $200,000 should be assigned
to the treasury, the remaining $300,000 disposed of as follows: to Mr.
Gwynne, as owner of the mine, should be allotted $151,000 stock, thus
giving him control; the remaining $149,000 stock should be placed
locally. The proposition contained an offer from Switzer to organise the
company and to place the stock, in consideration for which service he
asked a block of stock such as the directors should agree upon, and
further that he should be secretary of the company for a term of five
years at a salary of $2,000 per annum, which should be a first charge
upon the returns from the mine.

"Ernest insists on being secretary?" said Nora.

"Yes, naturally. His interests are all here. He insists also that I be
president."

"And why, Dad?" enquired Nora.

"Well," said Mr. Gwynne, with a slight laugh, "he frankly says he would
like to be associated with me in this business. Of course, he said some
nice things about me which I need not repeat."

"Oh pshaw!" exclaimed Nora, patting him on the shoulder, "I thought
you were a lot smarter man than that. Can't you see why he wants to be
associated with you? Surely you don't need me to tell you."

"Nora dear, hush," said her mother.

With an imploring look at her sister, Kathleen left the room.

"Indeed, Mother, I think it is no time to hush. I will tell you, Dad,
why he wants to be associated with you in this coal mine business.
Ernest Switzer wants our Kathleen. Mother knows it. We all know it."

Her father gazed at her in astonishment.

"Surely this is quite unwarranted, Nora," he said. "I cannot allow a
matter of this kind to be dragged into a matter of business."

"How would it do to take a few days to turn it over in our minds?" said
his wife. "We must not forget, dear," she continued, a note of grave
anxiety in her voice, "that if we accept this proposition it will mean a
complete change in our family life."

"Family life, Mother," said Mr. Gwynne with some impatience. "You don't
mean--"

"I mean, my dear," replied the mother, "that we shall no longer be
ranchers, but shall become coal miners. Let us think it over and
perhaps you might consult with some of our neighbours, say with Mr.
Waring-Gaunt."

"Surely, surely," replied her husband. "Your advice is wise, as always.
I shall just step over to Mr. Waring-Gaunt's immediately."

After Mr. Gwynne's departure, the others sat silent for some moments,
their minds occupied with the question raised so abruptly by Nora.

"You may as well face it, Mother," said the girl. "Indeed, you must face
it, and right now. If this Company goes on with Ernest as secretary, it
means that he will necessarily be thrown into closer relationship with
our family. This will help his business with Kathleen. This is what he
means. Do you wish to help it on?"

The mother sat silent, her face showing deep distress. "Nora dear," at
length she said, "this matter is really not in our hands. Surely you can
see that. I can't discuss it with you." And so saying she left the room.

"Now, Nora," said Larry severely, "you are not to worry Mother. And
besides you can't play Providence in this way. You must confess that you
have a dreadful habit of trying to run things. I believe you would have
a go at running the universe."

"Run things?" cried Nora. "Why not? There is altogether too much of
letting things slide in this family. It is all very well to trust to
Providence. Providence made the trees grow in the woods, but this house
never would have been here if Mr. Sleighter had not got on to the
job. Now I am going to ask you a straight question. Do you want Ernest
Switzer to have Kathleen?"

"Well, he's a decent sort and a clever fellow," began Larry.

"Now, Larry, you may as well cut that 'decent sort,' 'clever fellow'
stuff right out. I want to know your mind. Would you like to see Ernest
Switzer have Kathleen, or not?"

"Would you?" retorted her brother.

"No. I would not," emphatically said Nora.

"Why not?"

"To tell the truth, ever since that concert night I feel I can't trust
him. He is different from us. He is no real Canadian. He is a German."

"Well, Nora, you amaze me," said Larry. "What supreme nonsense you are
talking! You have got that stuff of Romayne's into your mind. The war
bug has bitten you too. For Heaven's sake be reasonable. If you object
to Ernest because of his race, I am ashamed of you and have no sympathy
with you."

"Not because of his race," said Nora, "though, Larry, let me tell you he
hates Britain. I was close to him that night, and hate looked out of his
eyes. But let that pass. I have seen Ernest with 'his women' as he calls
them, and, Larry, I can't bear to think of our Kathleen being treated as
he treats his mother and sister."

"Now, Nora, let us be reasonable. Let us look at this fairly," began
Larry.

"Oh, Larry! stop or I shall be biting the furniture next. When you
assume that judicial air of yours I want to swear. Answer me. Do you
want him to marry Kathleen? Yes or no."

"Well, as I was about to say--"

"Larry, will you answer yes or no?"

"Well, no, then," said Larry.

"Thank God!" cried Nora, rushing at him and shaking him vigorously. "You
wretch! Why did you keep me in suspense? How I wish that English stick
would get a move on!"

"English stick? Whom do you mean?"

"You're as stupid as the rest, Larry. Whom should I mean? Jack Romayne,
of course. There's a man for you. I just wish he'd waggle his finger at
me! But he won't do things. He just 'glowers' at her, as old McTavish
would say, with those deep eyes of his, and sets his jaw like a wolf
trap, and waits. Oh, men are so stupid with women!"

"Indeed?" said Larry. "And how exactly?"

"Why doesn't he just make her love him, master her, swing her off her
feet?" said Nora.

"Like Switzer, eh? The cave man idea?"

"No, no. Surely you see the difference?"

"Pity my ignorance and elucidate the mystery."

"Mystery? Nonsense. It is quite simple. It is a mere matter of
emphasis."

"Oh, I see," said Larry, "or at least I don't see. But credit me with
the earnest and humble desire to understand."

"Well," said his sister, "the one--"

"Which one?"

"Switzer. He is mad to possess her for his very own. He would carry her
off against her will. He'd bully her to death."

"Ah, you would like that?"

"Not I. Let him try it on. The other, Romayne, is mad to have her too.
He would give her his very soul. But he sticks there waiting till she
comes and flings herself into his arms."

"You prefer that, eh?"

"Oh, that makes me tired!" said Nora in a tone of disgust.

"Well, I give it up," said Larry hopelessly. "What do you want?"

"I want both. My man must want me more than he wants Heaven itself, and
he must give me all he has but honour. Such a man would be my slave! And
such a man--oh, I'd just love to be bullied by him."

For some moments Larry stood looking into the glowing black eyes, then
said quietly, "May God send you such a man, little sister, or none at
all."

In a few weeks the Alberta Coal Mining and Development Company was
an established fact. Mr. Waring-Gaunt approved of it and showed his
confidence in the scheme by offering to take a large block of stock
and persuade his friends to invest as well. He also agreed that it was
important to the success of the scheme both that Mr. Gwynne should
be the president of the company and that young Switzer should be its
secretary. Mr. Gwynne's earnest request that he should become the
treasurer of the company Mr. Waring-Gaunt felt constrained in the
meantime to decline. He already had too many irons in the fire. But
he was willing to become a director and to aid the scheme in any way
possible. Before the end of the month such was the energy displayed by
the new secretary of the company in the disposing of the stock it was
announced that only a small block of about $25,000 remained unsold. A
part of this Mr. Waring-Gaunt urged his brother-in-law to secure.

"Got twenty thousand myself, you know--looks to me like a sound
proposition--think you ought to go in--what do you say, eh, what?"

"Very well; get ten or fifteen thousand for me," said his
brother-in-law.

Within two days Mr. Waring-Gaunt found that the stock had all been
disposed of. "Energetic chap, that young Switzer,--got all the stock
placed--none left, so he told me."

"Did you tell him the stock was for me?" enquired Romayne.

"Of course, why not?"

"Probably that accounts for it. He would not be especially anxious to
have me in."

"What do you say? Nothing in that, I fancy. But I must see about that,
what?"

"Oh, let it go," said Romayne.

"Gwynne was after me again to take the treasurership," said
Waring-Gaunt, "but I am busy with so many things--treasurership very
hampering--demands close attention--that sort of thing, eh, what?"

"Personally I wish you would take it," said Romayne. "You would be able
to protect your own money and the investments of your friends. Besides,
I understand the manager is to be a German, which, with a German
secretary, is too much German for my idea."

"Oh, you don't like Switzer, eh? Natural, I suppose. Don't like him
myself; bounder sort of chap--but avoid prejudice, my boy, eh, what?
German--that sort of thing--don't do in this country, eh?
English, Scotch, Irish, French, Galician, Swede, German--all sound
Canadians--melting pot idea, eh, what?"

"I am getting that idea, too," said his brother-in-law. "Sybil has been
rubbing it into me. I believe it is right enough. But apart altogether
from that, frankly I do not like that chap; I don't trust him. I fancy I
know a gentleman when I see him."

"All right, all right, my boy, gentleman idea quite right too--but new
country, new standards--'Old Family' idea played out, don't you know.
Burke's Peerage not known here--every mug on its own bottom--rather
touchy Canadians are about that sort of thing--democracy stuff and all
that you know. Not too bad either, eh, what? for a chap who has got the
stuff in him--architect of his fortune--founder of his own family and
that sort of thing, don't you know. Not too bad, eh, what?"

"I quite agree," cried Jack, "at least with most of it. But all the same
I hope you will take the treasurership. Not only will you protect your
own and your friends' investments, but you will protect the interests of
the Gwynnes. The father apparently is no business man, the son is to
be away; anything might happen. I would hate to see them lose out. You
understand?"

His brother-in-law turned his eyes upon him, gazed at him steadily for
a few moments, then taking his hand, shook it warmly, exclaiming,
"Perfectly, old chap, perfectly--good sort, Gwynne--good family. Girl
of the finest--hope you put it off, old boy. Madame has put me on, you
know, eh, what? Jolly good thing."

"Now what the deuce do you mean?" said Romayne angrily.

"All right--don't wish to intrude, don't you know. Fine girl
though--quite the finest thing I've seen--could go anywhere."

His brother-in-law's face flushed fiery red. "Now look here, Tom," he
said angrily, "don't be an ass. Of course I know what you mean but as
the boys say here, 'Nothing doing!'"

"What? You mean it? Nothing doing? A fine girl like that--sweet
girl--good clean stock--wonderful mother--would make a wife any man
would be proud of--the real thing, you know, the real thing--I have
known her these eight years--watched her grow up--rare courage--pure
soul. Nothing doing? My God, man, have you eyes?" It was not often that
Tom Waring-Gaunt allowed himself the luxury of passion, but this seemed
to him to be an occasion in which he might indulge himself. Romayne
stood listening to him with his face turned away, looking out of the
window. "Don't you hear me, Jack?" said Waring-Gaunt. "Do you mean
there's nothing in it, or have you burned out your heart with those fool
women of London and Paris?"

Swiftly his brother-in-law turned to him. "No, Tom, but I almost wish to
God I had. No, I won't say that; rather do I thank God that I know now
what it is to love a woman. I am not going to lie to you any longer,
old chap. To love a sweet, pure woman, sweet and pure as the flowers out
there, to love her with every bit of my heart, with every fibre of my
soul, that is the finest thing that can come to a man. I have treated
women lightly in my time, Tom. I have made them love me, taken what they
have had to give, and left them without a thought. But if any of them
have suffered through me, and if they could know what I am getting now,
they would pity me and say I had got enough to pay me out. To think that
I should ever hear myself saying that to another man, I who have made
love to women and laughed at them and laughed at the poor weak devils
who fell in love with women. Do you get me? I am telling you this and
yet I feel no shame, no humiliation! Humiliation, great heaven! I am
proud to say that I love this girl. From the minute I saw her up there
in the woods I have loved her. I have cursed myself for loving her. I
have called myself fool, idiot, but I cannot help it. I love her. It
is hell to me or heaven, which you like. It's both." He was actually
trembling, his voice hoarse and shaking.

Amazement, then pity, finally delight, succeeded each other in rapid
succession across the face of his brother-in-law as he listened. "My
dear chap, my dear chap," he said when Romayne had finished. "Awfully
glad, you know--delighted. But why the howl? The girl is there--go in
and get her, by Jove. Why not, eh, what?"

"It's no use, I tell you," said Romayne. "That damned German has got
her. I have seen them together too often. I have seen in her eyes the
look that women get when they are ready to give themselves body and soul
to a man. She loves that man. She loves him, I tell you. She has known
him for years. I have come too late to have a chance. Too late, my God,
too late!" He pulled himself up with an effort, then with a laugh said,
"Do you recognise me, Tom? I confess I do not recognise myself. Well,
that's out. Let it go. That's the last you will get from me. But, Tom,
this is more than I can stand. I must quit this country, and I want you
to make it easy for me to go. We'll get up some yarn for Sibyl. You'll
help me out, old man? God knows I need help in this."

"Rot, beastly rot. Give her up to that German heel-clicking
bounder--rather not. Buck up, old man--give the girl a chance
anyway--play the game out, eh, what? Oh, by the way, I have made up my
mind to take that treasurership--beastly nuisance, eh? Goin'? Where?"

"Off with the dogs for a run somewhere."

"No, take the car--too beastly hot for riding, don't you know. Take my
car. Or, I say, let's go up to the mine. Must get to know more about the
beastly old thing, eh, what? We'll take the guns and Sweeper--we'll be
sure to see some birds and get the evening shoot coming back. But, last
word, my boy, give the girl a chance to say no. Think of it, a German,
good Lord! You go and get the car ready. We'll get Sybil to drive while
we shoot."

Tom Waring-Gaunt found his great, warm, simple heart overflowing with
delight at the tremendous news that had come to him. It was more than
his nature could bear that he should keep this from his wife. He found
her immersed in her domestic duties and adamant against his persuasion
to drive them to the mine.

"A shoot," she cried, "I'd love to. But, Tom, you forget I am a
rancher's wife, and you know, or at least you don't know, what that
means. Run along and play with Jack. Some one must work. No, don't tempt
me. I have my programme all laid out. I especially prayed this morning
for grace to resist the lure of the outside this day. 'Get thee behind
me--' What? I am listening, but I shouldn't be. What do you say? Tom,
it cannot be!" She sat down weakly in a convenient chair and listened to
her husband while he retailed her brother's great secret.

"And so, my dear, we are going to begin a big campaign--begin
to-day--take the girls off with us for a shoot--what do you say, eh?"

"Why, certainly, Tom. Give me half an hour to get Martha fairly on the
rails, and I am with you. We'll take those dear girls along. Oh, it is
perfectly splendid. Now let me go; that will do, you foolish boy. Oh,
yes, how lovely. Trust me to back you up. What? Don't spoil things.
Well, I like that. Didn't I land you? That was 'some job,' as dear Nora
would say. You listen to me, Tom. You had better keep in the background.
Finesse is not your forte. Better leave these things to me. Hurry up
now. Oh, I am so excited."

Few women can resist an appeal for help from a husband. The
acknowledgment of the need of help on the part of the dominating partner
is in itself the most subtle flattery and almost always irresistible. No
woman can resist the opportunity to join in that most fascinating of
all sport--man-hunting. And when the man runs clear into the open wildly
seeking not escape from but an opening into the net, this only adds a
hazard and a consequent zest to the sport. Her husband's disclosures had
aroused in Sybil Waring-Gaunt not so much her sporting instincts, the
affair went deeper far than that with her. Beyond anything else in life
she desired at that time to bring together the two beings whom, next to
her husband, she loved best in the world. From the day that her brother
had arrived in the country she had desired this, and more or less
aggressively had tried to assist Providence in the ordering of events.
But in Kathleen, with all her affection and all her sweet simplicity,
there was a certain shy reserve that prevented confidences in the matter
of her heart affairs.

"How far has the German got with her? That is what I would like to
know," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt to herself as she hastily prepared for
the motor ride. "There's no doubt about him. Every one can see how he
stands, and he has such a masterful way with him that it makes one think
that everything is settled. If it is there is no chance for Jack, for
she is not the changing kind." Meantime she would hope for the best and
play the game as best she could.