<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
<h3>THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL</h3>
<p>Grey strode away from the house in no very
amiable frame of mind. A fenced-in patch, planted
with blue-gums and a mass of low-growing shrubs,
formed a sort of garden in front of the farm.</p>
<p>This enclosure was devoid of all artistic effect,
but in summer-time it served as a screen to break
the rigour of the wooden farm-buildings. It was a
practical but incongruous piece of man’s handiwork,
divided down the centre by a pathway bordered with
overlapped hoopings of bent red willow switches,
which, even in winter, protruded hideously above the
beaten snow. The path led to a front gate of
primitive and bald manufacture, but stout and serviceable,
as was everything else about the farm. And
this was the main approach to the house.</p>
<p>It was necessary for Grey, having taken his
departure by the front door, to pass out through this
gate in order to reach the barn where he had left his
saddle-horse. He might have saved himself this
trouble by leaving the house by the back door, which
opened out directly opposite the entrance to the great
barn. But he was in no mood for back doors; the
condition of his mind demanded nothing less than a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_66' name='page_66'></SPAN>66</span>
dignified exit, and a dignified exit is never compatible
with a back door. Had he left Loon Dyke Farm in
an amiable frame of mind, much that was to happen
in his immediate future might have been different.</p>
<p>But the writing had been set forth, and there was
no altering it.</p>
<p>He walked with a great show of unnecessary
energy. It was his nature to do so. His energy was
almost painful to behold. Too much vigour and
energy is almost worse than chronic indolence; sooner
or later people so afflicted find themselves in
difficulties.</p>
<p>It was more than a year since his misadventure in
the mountains. He had suffered for his own wrong-headedness
over that matter, but he had not profited
by his experience; he was incapable of doing so. His
length of service and reputation for hard work had
saved him from dismissal, but Chillingwood was less
fortunate; subordinates in Government service generally
are less fortunate when their superiors blunder.</p>
<p>However, Grey had outlived that unpleasantness.
He was not the man to brood over disaster. Soon
after he had been transferred to Ainsley the Town
Clerkship fell vacant. He did what he could for
Chillingwood, with the result that the younger man
eventually secured the post, and thus found himself
enjoying a bare existence on an income of $500 per
annum.</p>
<p>Halfway down the path Grey became aware of a
horseman approaching the farm. The figure was
moving along slowly over the trail from Ainsley. In
the dusk the horse appeared to be jaded; its head
hung down, and its gait was ambling. The stranger
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_67' name='page_67'></SPAN>67</span>
was tall, but beyond that Grey could see nothing,
for the face was almost entirely hidden in the depths
of the storm-collar of his coat. The officer looked
hard at the new-comer. It was part of his work
to know, at least by sight, every inhabitant of his
district. This man was quite a stranger to him.
The horse was unknown to him, and the fur coat was
unfamiliar. In winter these things usually mark a
man out to his acquaintances. The horse shows up
against the snow, and the prairie man does not usually
possess two fur coats.</p>
<p>On the stranger’s first appearance Grey’s thoughts
had at once flown to George Iredale, but now, as he
realized that the man was unknown to him, his
interest relaxed. However, he walked slowly on to
the gate so that he might obtain a closer inspection.
Horse and rider were about twenty-five yards off
when Grey reached the gate, and he saw that they
were followed at some distance by a great wolfish-looking
hound.</p>
<p>The evening shadows had grown rapidly. The
grey vault of snow-clouds above made the twilight
much darker than usual. Grey waited. The traveller
silently drew up his horse, and for a moment sat
gazing at the figure by the gate. All that was
visible of his face was the suggestion of a nose and
a pair of large dark eyes.</p>
<p>Grey opened the gate and passed out.</p>
<p>“Evening,” said the horseman, in a voice muffled by
the fur of his coat-collar.</p>
<p>“Good-evening,” replied Grey shortly.</p>
<p>“Loon Dyke Farm,” said the stranger, in a tone less
of inquiry than of making a statement.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_68' name='page_68'></SPAN>68</span></div>
<p>Grey nodded, and turned to move away. Then he
seemed to hesitate, and turned again to the stranger.
Those eyes! Where had he seen just such a pair of
eyes before? He tried to think, but somehow his
memory failed him. The horseman had turned his
face towards the house and so the great roving eyes
were hidden. But Grey was too intent upon the
business he had in hand to devote much thought to
anything else.</p>
<p>There was no further reason for remaining; he had
satisfied his curiosity. He would learn all about the
stranger later on.</p>
<p>He hurried round to the stables. When he had
gone the stranger dismounted; for a moment or two
he stood with one hand on the gate and the other
holding the horse’s reins, gazing after the retreating
form of the Customs officer. He waited until the
other had disappeared, then leisurely hitched his
horse’s reins on to the fence of the enclosure, and,
passing in through the gate, approached the house.
Presently he saw Grey ride away, and a close observer
might have detected the sound of a heavy sigh
escaping from between the embracing folds of the fur
collar as the man walked up the path and rapped
loudly upon the front door with his mitted fist. The
three-footed hound had closed up on his master, and
now stood beside him.</p>
<p>Prudence opened the door. Tea was just ready;
and she answered the summons, half expecting to
find that her lover had thought better of his ill-humour
and had returned to share the evening meal.
She drew back well within the house when she
realized her mistake. The stranger stood for one
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_69' name='page_69'></SPAN>69</span>
second as though in doubt; then his voice reached the
waiting girl.</p>
<p>“Prudence, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>The girl started. Then a smile broke over her
pretty, dark face.</p>
<p>“Why, it’s Hervey––brother Hervey. Here,
mother,” she called back into the house. “Quick,
here’s Hervey. Why, you dear boy, I didn’t expect
you for at least a week––and then I wasn’t sure you
would come. You got my letter safely then, and you
must have started off almost at once––you’re a real
good brother to come so soon. Yes, in here; tea is
just ready. Take off your coat. Come along,
mother,” she called out again joyously. “Hurry; come
as fast as you can; Hervey is here.” And she ran
away towards the kitchen. Her mother’s movements
were far too slow to suit her.</p>
<p>The man removed his coat, and voices reached him
from the direction of the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Dearie me, but, child, you do rush one about so.
Where is he? There, you’ve left the door open; and
whose is that hideous brute of a dog? Why, it looks
like a timber-wolf. Send him out.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Malling talked far more rapidly than she
walked, or rather trotted, under the force of her
daughter’s bustling excitement. Hervey went out
into the hall to meet her. Standing framed in the
doorway he saw his dog.</p>
<p>“Get out, you brute,” he shouted, and stepping
quickly up to the animal he launched a cruel kick at
it which caught it squarely on the chest. The beast
turned solemnly away without a sound, and Hervey
closed the door.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_70' name='page_70'></SPAN>70</span></div>
<p>The mother was the first to meet him. Her stout
arms were outstretched, while her face beamed with
pride, and her eyes were filled with tears of joy.</p>
<p>“My dear, dear boy,” she exclaimed, smiling
happily. Hervey made no reciprocal movement.
He merely bent his head down to her level and
allowed her to kiss his cheek. She hugged him
forcefully to her ample bosom, an embrace from
which he quickly released himself. Her words then
poured forth in a swift, incoherent flow. “And to
think I believed that I should never see you again.
And how you have grown and filled out. Just like
your father. And where have you been all this time,
and have you kept well? Look at the tan on his
face, Prudence, and the beard too. Why, I should
hardly have known you, boy, if I hadn’t ’a known
who it was. Why, you must be inches taller than
your father for sure––and he was a tall man. But
you must tell me all about yourself when the folks
are all gone to-night. We are having a party, you
know. And isn’t it nice?––you will be here for
Prudence’s wedding–––”</p>
<p>“Don’t you think we’d better go into the parlour
instead of standing out here?” the girl interrupted
practically. Her mother’s rambling remarks had
shown no sign of cessation, and the tea was waiting.
“Hervey must be tired and hungry.”</p>
<p>“Well, I must confess I am utterly worn out,” the
man replied with a laugh. “Yes, mother, if tea is
ready let’s come along. We can talk during the
meal.”</p>
<p>They passed into the parlour. As they seated
themselves at the table, Sarah Gurridge joined them
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_71' name='page_71'></SPAN>71</span>
from her place beside the stove. Hervey had not
noticed her presence when he first entered the room,
and the good school-ma’am, quietly day-dreaming, had
barely awakened to the fact of his coming. Now she,
too, joined in the enthusiasm of the moment.</p>
<p>“Ah, Hervey,” she said, with that complacent air
of proprietorship which our early preceptors invariably
assume, “you haven’t forgotten me, I know.</p>
<table summary=''><tr><td>
<p class='cg'>‘Though the tempest of life will oft shut out the past,<br/>
The thoughts of our school-days remain to the last.’”</p>
</td></tr></table>
<p>“Glad to see you, Mrs. Gurridge. No, I haven’t
forgotten you,” the man replied.</p>
<p>A slight pause followed. The women-folk had so
much to say that they hardly knew where to begin.
That trifling hesitation might have been accounted
for by this fact. Or it might have been that Hervey
was less overjoyed at his home-coming than were
his mother and sister.</p>
<p>Prudence was the first to speak.</p>
<p>“Funny that I should have set a place more than
I intended at the tea-table,” she said, “and funnier
still that when I found out what I’d done I didn’t
remove the plate and things. And now you turn up.”
She laughed joyously.</p>
<p>Sarah Gurridge looked over in the girl’s direction
and shook an admonitory forefinger at her.</p>
<p>“Mr. Grey, my dear––you were thinking of Mr.
Grey, in spite of your lover’s tiff.”</p>
<p>“Who did you say?” asked Hervey, with a quick
glance at Prudence.</p>
<p>“Leslie Grey,” said his mother, before the old
school-ma’am could reply. “Didn’t our Prudence tell
you when she wrote? He’s the man she’s going to
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_72' name='page_72'></SPAN>72</span>
marry. I must say he’s not the man I should have
set on for her; but she’s got her own ploughing to
seed, and I’m not the one to say her ‘nay’ when she
chooses her man.”</p>
<p>Hervey busied himself with his food, nor did he
look up when he spoke.</p>
<p>“That was Grey, I s’pose, I saw riding away as I
came up? Good, square-set chunk of a man.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he left just before you came,” said Prudence.
“But never mind about him, brother. Tell us about
yourself. Have you made a fortune?”</p>
<p>“For sure, he must,” said their mother, gazing with
round, proud eyes upon her boy, “for how else came
he to travel from California to here, just to set his
eyes on us and see a slip of a girl take to herself a
husband? My, but it’s a great journey for a boy to
take.”</p>
<p>“Nothing to what I’ve done in my time,” replied
Hervey. “Besides, mother, I’ve got further to go
yet. And as for sister Prudence’s marriage, I’m
afraid I can’t stay for that.”</p>
<p>“Not stay?” exclaimed his mother.</p>
<p>“Do you mean it?” asked his sister incredulously.</p>
<p>Sarah Gurridge contented herself with looking her
dismay.</p>
<p>“You see, it’s like this,” said Hervey. He had an
uncomfortable habit of keeping his eyes fixed upon
the table, only just permitting himself occasional
swift upward glances over the other folk’s heads.
“When I got your letter, Prudence, I was just preparing
to come up from Los Mares to go and see a
big fruit-grower at Niagara. The truth is that my
fruit farm is a failure and I am trying to sell it.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_73' name='page_73'></SPAN>73</span></div>
<p>“My poor boy!” exclaimed his mother; “and you
never told me. But there, you were always as proud
as proud, and never would let me help you. Your
poor father was just the same; when things went
wrong he wouldn’t own up to any one. I remember
how we lost sixty acres of forty-bushel, No. 1 wheat
with an August frost. I never learned it till we’d
taken in the finest crop in the district at the next
harvesting. But you didn’t put all your savings into
fruit?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I did, mother, worse luck.”</p>
<p>“All you made up at the Yukon goldfields?”
asked Prudence, alarm in her voice.</p>
<p>“Every cent.”</p>
<p>There followed a dead silence.</p>
<p>“Then–––” Mrs. Malling could get no further.</p>
<p>“I’m broke––dead broke. And I’m going East to
sell my land to pay off my debts. I’ve had an offer
for it, and I’m going to clinch the deal quick. Say,
I just came along here to see you, and I’m going on
at once. I only got into Winnipeg yesterday. I
rode out without delay, but struck the Ainsley trail,
or I should have been here sooner. Now, see here,
mother,” Hervey went on, as a woe-begone expression
closely verging on tears came into the old dame’s
eyes, “it’s no use crying over this business. What’s
done is done. I’m going to get clear of my farm
first, and maybe afterwards I’ll come here again and
we’ll talk things over a bit.”</p>
<p>Prudence sat staring at her brother, but Hervey
avoided her gaze. Mrs. Malling was too heartbroken
to speak yet. Her weather-tanned face had blanched
as much as it was possible for it to do. Her boy had
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_74' name='page_74'></SPAN>74</span>
gone out upon the world to seek his fortune, and he
had succeeded in establishing himself, he had written
and told her. He had found gold in quantities in the
Yukon valley, and now––now, at last, he had failed.
The shock had for the moment crushed her; her boy,
her proud independent boy, as she had been wont
to consider him, had failed. She did not ask herself,
or him, the reason of his failure. Such failure, she
felt, must be through no fault of his, but the result of
adverse circumstances.</p>
<p>She never thought of the gambling-table. She
never thought of reckless living. Such things could
not enter her simple mind and be in any way
associated with her boy. Hephzibah Malling loved
her son; to her he was the king who could do no
wrong. She continued to gaze blankly in the man’s
direction.</p>
<p>Sarah Gurridge alone of the trio allowed herself
sidelong, speculative glances at the man’s face. She
had seen the furtive overhead glances; the steady
avoidance of the loving observation of his womankind.
She had known Hervey as well, and perhaps just a
shade better than his mother and sister had; and
long since, in his childish school-days, she had detected
a lurking weakness in an otherwise good character.
She wondered now if he had lived to outgrow that
juvenile trait, or had it grown with him, gaining
strength as the greater passions of manhood
developed?</p>
<p>After the first shock of Hervey’s announcement
had passed, Mrs. Malling sought refuge in the consolation
of her own ability to help her son. He must
never know want, or suffer the least privation. She
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_75' name='page_75'></SPAN>75</span>
could and would give him everything he needed.
Besides, after all, she argued with womanly feeling,
now perhaps she could persuade him to look after the
farm for her; to stay by her side. He should be in
no way dependent. She would install him as manager
at a comfortable salary. The idea pleased her beyond
measure, and it was with difficulty she could keep
herself from at once putting her proposal into words.
However, by a great effort, she checked her enthusiasm.</p>
<p>“Then when do you think of going East?” she
asked, with some trepidation. “You won’t go at
once, sure.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I must go at once,” Hervey replied promptly.
“That is, to-morrow morning.”</p>
<p>“Then you will stay to-night,” said Prudence.</p>
<p>“Yes; but only to get a good long sleep and rest
my horse. I’m thoroughly worn out. I’ve been in
saddle since early this morning.”</p>
<p>“Have you sent your horse round to the barn?”
asked Sarah Gurridge.</p>
<p>“Well, no. He’s hitched to the fence.” The
observing Sarah had been sure of it.</p>
<p>Prudence rose from her seat and called out to the
hired girl––</p>
<p>“Mary, send out and tell Andy to take the horse
round to the barn. He’s hitched to the fence.” Then
she came back. “You’ll join our party to-night, of
course.”</p>
<p>“Hoity, girl, of course not,” said their mother.
“How’s the lad going to get rest gallivanting with a
lot of clowns who can only talk of ‘bowers’ and
‘jokers’? You think of nothing but ‘how-de-doin’
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_76' name='page_76'></SPAN>76</span>
with your neighbours since you’re going to be married.
Things were different in my day. I’ll look after
Hervey,” she continued, turning to her son. “You
shall have a good night, lad, or my name’s not
Hephzibah Malling. Maybe you’ll tell me by and by
what you’d like to do.”</p>
<p>“That’s right, mother,” replied Hervey, with an air
of relief. “You understand what it is for a man to
need rest. I’ll just hang around till the folks come, and
then sneak off to bed. You don’t mind, Prue, do
you? I’m dead beat, and I want to leave at daybreak.”</p>
<p>“Mind?” answered Prudence; “certainly not,
Hervey. I should have liked you to meet Mr. Grey,
but you must get your rest.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” added her mother, “and as for meeting
Mr. Grey––well, your brother won’t sicken for want of
seeing him, I’ll wager. Come along, Hervey, we’ll go
to the kitchen; Prudence has to get her best parlour
ready for these chattering noodles. And, miss,” turning
to her daughter with an expression of pretended
severity, “don’t forget that I’ve got a batch o’ layer
cakes in the ice-box, and you’ve not told me what you
want in the way of drinks. La, young folks never
think of the comforts. I’m sure I don’t know what
you’ll do without your mother, girl. Some o’ these
times your carelessness will get your parties made a
laughing-stock of. Come along, Hervey.”</p>
<p>The old lady bustled out, bearing her son off in
triumph to the kitchen. She was quite happy again
now. Her scheme for her son’s welfare had shut out
all thought of his bad news. Most women are like
this; the joy of giving to their own is perhaps the
greatest joy in the life of a mother.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_77' name='page_77'></SPAN>77</span></div>
<p>In the hall they met the flying, agitated figure of
the hired girl, Mary.</p>
<p>“Oh, please, ’m, there’s such a racket going on by
the barn. There’s Andy an’ the two dogs fighting
with a great, strange, three-legged dog wot looks like
a wolf. They’re that mussed up that I don’t know,
I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“It’s that brute Neche of mine,” said Hervey, with
an imprecation. “It’s all right, girl; I’ll go.”</p>
<p>Hervey rushed out to the barn. The great three-legged
savage was in the midst of a fierce scrimmage.
Two farm dogs were attacking him. They were both
half-bred sheep-dogs. One was making futile attempts
to get a hold upon the stranger, and Neche was
shaking the other as a terrier would shake a rat.
And Andy, the choreman, was lambasting the intruder
with the business end of a two-tine hay-fork, and
shouting frightful curses at him in a strong American
accent.</p>
<p>As Hervey came upon the scene, Neche hurled his
victim from him, either dead or dying, for the dog lay
quite still where it fell upon the snow. Then, impervious
to the onslaught of the choreman, he seized
the other dog.</p>
<p>“Come out of it, Andy,” cried Hervey.</p>
<p>The hired man ceased his efforts at once, glad to be
done with the savage. Hervey then ran up to the
infuriated husky, and dealt him two or three terrible
kicks.</p>
<p>The dog turned round instantly. His fangs were
dripping with blood, and he snarled fiercely, his
baleful eyes glowing with ferocity. But he slunk
off when he recognized his assailant, allowing the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_78' name='page_78'></SPAN>78</span>
second dog to run for its life, howling with canine
fear.</p>
<p>Andy went over to the dog that was stretched upon
the snow.</p>
<p>“Guess ’e’s done, boss,” he said, looking up at
Hervey as the latter came over to his side. “Say,
that’s about the slickest scrapper round these parts.
Gee-whizz, ’e went fur me like the tail end o’ a
cyclone when I took your plug to the barn. It was
they curs that kind o’ distracted his attention. Mebbe
thar’s more wolf nor dog in him. Mebbe, I sez.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he’s a devil-tempered husky,” said Hervey.
“I’ll have to shoot him one of these days.”</p>
<p>“Wa’al, I do ’lows that it’s a mercy ’e ain’t got
no more’n three shanks. Mackinaw! but he’s
handy.”</p>
<p>The four women had watched the scene from the
kitchen door. Hervey came over to where they were
standing.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, mother,” he said. “Neche has killed
one of your dogs. He’s a fiend for fighting. I’ve a
good mind to shoot him now.”</p>
<p>“No, don’t go for to do that,” said his mother.
“We oughtn’t to have sent Andy to take your horse.
I expect the beast thought he was doing right.”</p>
<p>“He’s a brute. Curse him!”</p>
<p>Prudence said nothing. Now she moved a little
away from the house and talked to the dog. He was
placidly, and with no show of penitence, lying down
and licking a laceration on one of his front legs. He
occasionally shook his great head, and stained the
snow with the blood which dripped from his fierce-looking
ears. He paused in his operation at the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_79' name='page_79'></SPAN>79</span>
sound of the girl’s voice, and looked up. Her tone
was gentle and caressing. Hervey suddenly called to
her.</p>
<p>“Don’t go near him. He’s as treacherous as a
dogone Indian.”</p>
<p>“Come back,” called out her mother.</p>
<p>The girl paid no attention. She called again, and
patted her blue apron encouragingly. The animal
rose slowly to his feet, looked dubiously in her
direction, then, without any display of enthusiasm,
came slowly towards her. His limp added to his
wicked aspect, but he came, nor did he stop until his
head was resting against her dress, and her hand was
caressing his great back. The huge creature seemed
to appreciate the girl’s attitude, for he made no
attempt to move away. It is probable that this was
the first caress the dog had ever known in all his
savage life.</p>
<p>Hervey looked on and scratched his beard thoughtfully,
but he said nothing more. Mrs. Malling went
back to the kitchen. Sarah Gurridge alone had
anything to say.</p>
<p>“Poor creature,” she observed, in tones of deep
pity. “I wonder how he lost his foot. Is he always
fighting? A poor companion, I should say.”</p>
<p>Hervey laughed unpleasantly.</p>
<p>“Oh, he’s not so bad. He’s savage, and all that
But he’s a good friend.”</p>
<p>“Ah, and a deadly enemy. I suppose he’s very
fond of you. He lets you kick him,” she added
significantly.</p>
<p>“I hardly know––and I must say I don’t much
care––what his feelings are towards me. Yes, he lets
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_80' name='page_80'></SPAN>80</span>
me kick him.” Then, after a pause, “But I think he
really hates me.”</p>
<p>And Hervey turned abruptly and went back into
the kitchen. He preferred the more pleasant atmosphere
of his mother’s adulation to the serious
reflections of Sarah Gurridge.</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_81' name='page_81'></SPAN>81</span>
<SPAN name='CHAPTER_VI_THE_PROGRESSIVE_EUCHRE_PARTY' id='CHAPTER_VI_THE_PROGRESSIVE_EUCHRE_PARTY'></SPAN>
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