Campbell's Kingdom

CHAPTER TWO

I don’t know whether it was the reaction after the strain of the last two months or the physical effect of suddenly having nothing to work for any more, but that night my feet and hands were swollen and painful and my heart was thudding against my ribs. I felt exhausted and drained of all energy. They made me a bed in the back of Boy’s instrument truck and though I was reasonably comfortable I lay awake half the night, feeling certain that now my time was up and the end had at last come. I slipped off into a sort of coma and when I woke sometimes Jean was there, holding my hand, sometimes I was alone. The moon was bright and by craning my head I could just see out of the back of the truck and get a glimpse of the lake that now filled the Kingdom. The ranch-house had disappeared completely, swallowed by the waters. There was no sign left that my grandfather had ever been in the country.

I felt better in the morning, but very tired. I slept intermittently and once Boy came and sat beside me and told me he had been over to the dam and had phoned Trevedian from the control room. We were to have the trucks at the hoist by midday tomorrow. I lay back realising that this was our final exodus, that we should not be coming back. The rest of the business would be conducted in the stuffy, soul-destroying atmosphere of a court room. I didn’t feel that I wanted to live. There would be weeks, maybe months of litigation. I couldn’t face that. Jean seemed to understand my mood for she kept assuring me that it would be all right, that the lawyers would look after it all and that we’d get- the compensation required to repay everyone. But I didn’t really believe her. And then, late in the evening, Johnnie rode in with a couple of American newspaper boys, the same who had been up with him the previous fall when they had found the body of my grandfather.

I remember they came to see me that night. They were a surprisingly quiet, slow-spoken pair and somehow their interest in the whole business as a story put new heart into me. They had listened to Garry’s story of the night we’d struck the anticline. They’d got the pictures so vividly in their minds that I could see it all again as they talked. ‘But who’ll believe us?’ I said. ‘Even Steve Strachan, who was up here with us, isn’t entirely convinced.’

The taller of them laughed. ‘He’s not used to this sort of thing,’ he said. ‘We are. We’ve put the four of you through a detailed cross-examination. And it’s okay. The detail is too good to have been fabricated.

Soon as we get down I’ll send off my story and I’m going to ask my paper to put up the dough for us to get divers down before the weather breaks. If we can drag that pipe up, that’ll prove it. In the meantime, I take it you’ve no objection to Ed taking a few pictures of you.’ His big, warm-hearted laugh boomed out. ‘Boy, you certainly provide the final touch to make this one of the most human dramas I’ve ever been handed. Now if you’d been running around full of health and vigour …’ He shook his head and grinned. ‘But here you are, King Campbell’s grandson, lying sick with no roof over your head because these bastards…’ There was a flash as Ed took the first picture. ‘Well, don’t worry. Fergus will have half the North American continent gunning for him by the time I’ve finished writing this up. And by a stroke of luck we’ve got pictures of the Campbell homestead and the whole Kingdom before they flooded it.’

Next morning we started out towards the dam. The going was very rough for the water forced us up into the rock-strewn country at the foot of the mountains. In places boulders had to be hefted aside and at one point the timber came right down to the water’s edge and it took us an hour to cut a way through for the trucks. I started off in the instrument truck, but pretty soon I got out and walked. It was less tiring than being jolted and flung from side to side.

It was well after midday by the time we turned the base of the buttress and ground to a halt at the barbed wire. There was nobody on the dam or up at the concrete housing of the hoist. The whole place seemed strangely deserted. We hung about for a time, blowing on the horns and shouting to attract attention. But nobody came and in the end we found a join in the wire, rolled it back and drove the vehicles through. I had taken the precaution of hiding all the rifles under a pile of bedding. The Luger I had slipped into my pocket. The drillers, exhausted and despondent, were in an ugly mood. It only wanted a crack or two from some of the men working on the power house at the bottom of the hoist and there would be trouble. I was taking no chances of it coming to shooting.

We took the vehicle and the cart straight up to the cable terminal. There wasn’t a soul there. Boy went down to the dam and disappeared down concrete steps into the bowels of it. We stood and stared down at the dam, a little bewildered and I think even then with an odd sense of waiting for something. The silence was uncanny. The dam was a flat-topped battlement of concrete flung across the cleft that divided the peaks of Solomon’s Judgment. It was smooth and curved with clean, fresh lines as yet unmarked by weather. On the Thunder Valley side it sloped down like a great wall into the gloom of the cleft. From where we stood we couldn’t see the bottom. It gave me the feeling that it went on dropping down indefinitely till it reached the slide two thousand feet below. On the other side the lake of the Kingdom swept to within a yard or so of the top. The wall of concrete seemed to be leaning into the lake as though straining to hold the weight of the water in check. It was hot in the sunshine as we waited and the air was still, the water lying flat and sultry like a sheet of metal. The noise of water running was the only sound that broke the utter stillness.

Boy came up out of the smooth top of the dam and climbed towards us, a puzzled frown on his suntanned face. ‘Not a soul there,’ he said. ‘And all the sluices are fully open.’

‘Isn’t there a phone down in the control room?’ Jean asked.

Boy nodded. ‘I tried it, but I couldn’t get any answer. It seemed dead.’

We stood there for a moment, talking softly, wondering what to do. At length Garry said, ‘Well anyway, the cage is here. We’d better start loading the first truck.’

As Don moved towards the instrument truck there was a sudden splintering sound and the noise of falling stone. It was followed by a faint shout half-drowned in a roar of water. Then a man came clambering up the sides of the cleft. He was one of the engineers and he was followed by the guards and another engineer. They saw us and came running towards us. Their faces looked white and scared.

‘What’s happened?’ Garry called out.

‘The dam,’ shouted one of the engineers. ‘There’s a crack… It’s leaking… The whole thing will go any minute.’ He was out of breath and his voice was pitched high with fright.

We stared at him, hardly able to comprehend what he was saying — convinced only by the fear on his face.

‘Can’t you relieve the pressure?’ Boy asked.

‘The sluice gates are wide open already.’

‘Have you told them down below?’ Steve Strachan asked him.

‘No. The phone was cut in that storm the night before last. It’s terrible. I don’t know what to do. There are nearly a hundred men working down on the slide where they’re going to build the power house. What can I do?’ He stood there, wringing his hands hopelessly.

‘What about the phone in the cable house?’ I asked.

‘Yes, yes, of course. But I don’t think there’ll be anyone in the lower housing, not until six this evening.’

Everybody was talking at once now and I watched the engineer as he ran stumbling to the cable terminal. If there was nobody at the bottom to get his warning… I looked at the lake. It was six miles or more across and in the centre it would be as deep as the dam was high — over two hundred feet. I thought of the men working down there on the slide, directly in the path of that great sheet of water if the dam collapsed. It would come thundering through the cleft and then fall, millions of tons of it falling two thousand feet; all the water that had fallen on the mountains in twelve hours tumbling over in one great solid sheet. Jean’s hand gripped my arm. ‘What can we do?’ Her voice trembled and I saw by her face that she, too, was picturing that effect of a breach. But the dam looked solid enough. The great sweep of it swung smoothly and uninterruptedly across the cleft. It looked as though it could hold an ocean.

The others were already scrambling down to have a look at the damage. I followed. Johnnie came slithering down with me. And from the top of the dam itself we looked down the smooth face of it to a great jet of water fifty feet long and two or three feet across. It was coming from a jagged rent about halfway down the dam face and all around the hole were great splintering cracks through which the water seeped. Down below at the very foot of the dam the sluice gates added their rush of water.

‘It’s that cement they used on the original dam.’ Johnnie had to shout in my ear to make himself heard above the din of the water. ‘It was old stuff and it’s cracking up. The goldarned fools!’

As we turned away from the appalling sight the engineer who had gone to the hoist to try and telephone came slithering down to us. ‘There’s nobody there,’ he shouted.

‘Can’t you go down and warn them?’ Johnnie asked.

‘There’s nobody down there, I tell you,’ he almost screamed. ‘Nobody hears the telephone. There’s nobody to work the engine.’

I was looking up towards the hoist, remembering the night Jeff and I had examined the cradle together to see if there was a safety device to get the cage down if the engine packed up. ‘How long before this dam goes?’ I asked the engineer.

‘I don’t know. It may go any minute. It may last till we have drained the lake.’

‘It won’t do that. Look.’ Johnnie was peering over the edge, pointing to the great thundering jet of brownish water. It had increased in size appreciably in the last few minutes.

The American newspaper correspondent came along the top of the dam towards us. He had been out in the centre with his photographer who was taking pictures regardless of the danger. ‘Why don’t these guys do something — about the boys down below I mean?’

‘What can we do?’ the engineer demanded petulantly. ‘We’ve no phone, no means of communicating.’

I called to Boy and together we climbed the side of the cleft to the hoist. Jean caught up with us just as I was climbing into the cage. ‘What are you going to do?’ I was already looking up at the cradle, seeing what I needed to knock the pins out that secured the driving cable to it. Her hand gripped my arm. ‘No. For God’s sake, darling. You can’t. They’ll be all right. They’ll have seen that flow of water coming down-’

‘If they have then I’ll stop the cage on the lip of the fault.’ I gently disengaged her fingers. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll be all right.’ She stared at me, her face suddenly white. I think she knew as well as I did that the chances of the men working down there having noticed an increase in the flow of water from the dam were remote. ‘Why you?’ she whispered. ‘Why not one of the men who belong to the dam? It’s their responsibility.’

I turned away and climbed into the cage. I couldn’t explain to her why it was better for me to go. ‘Hand me that bit of timber, Boy.’ He passed it up and I knocked the pins out. As the last one fell to the floor I had my hand on the brake lever. The driving cable dropped free on to the rollers and the cage began to move. I hauled down on the lever and brought the bottom braking wheel into action, forcing the suspension cable up between the two travelling wheels.

‘Okay, let’s go,’ Boy said.

I turned to find Jean clambering into the cage. ‘For God’s sake,’ I cried.

‘I’m corning with you,’ Boy said. His face was white under his tan. I didn’t know it then but he was scared of heights, other than from the air.

‘So am I,’ Jean said.

I stood there, looking at them, wondering how to get rid of them. It was crazy for more than one to go down. There was a rope on the end of the lever and a pulley in the floor. I slid the rope through the sheaves of the block. Then I called to Boy. ‘For God’s sake,’ I said, ‘get Jean out of here. Pick her up and throw her out.’

He nodded. I was still holding the rope. ‘Please go, Jean.’ I called to her. But she clung to the side and Boy picked her up, fighting her to get her hands clear, and then, leaning far out, he put her over the side. At that moment I let go the rope, caught him by the legs and tipped him over after her. As he fell the cage began to move. I turned quickly and caught up the rope, applying the brake gently, holding the cradle to a steady run along the cable. Looking back I saw the two of them standing there, watching me. And away to the right, below them, was the great sweep of the dam with the wall all starred with cracks and the brown water spouting from the huge rent. I stared at it, wondering what it would be like up here, hanging in space, if the whole thing burst wide open, imagining the lake pouring through, thundering in a roaring mass only a few feet below my feet and then tumbling in a gigantic, fantastic fall over the lip of the fault.

Then the pylon on the top of the fault was coming towards me and I hauled on the rope, slowing the cradle up to walking pace. Thunder Valley opened out in front of me. I crawled up to the pylon and stopped. I could see the steep, timbered slopes of the valley, the glint of Beaver Dam Lake, but the rocks on the lip of the drop hid the slide. I inched past the pylon. The cradle tipped. I hauled on the rope. The rocks slid away below me and suddenly I was hanging in space and there far below me was the slide with the pylon and beyond it the concrete housing of the hoist. It was all very minute and unreal. The only thing that was real was that ghastly, appalling drop and the fact that the only thing that prevented me crashing the full length of that snaking cable line was this crude brake. I felt my knees beginning to shake. I don’t think I ever have been so frightened of anything in my life. For there below me the slide looked like an ant heap. Everywhere men were moving about, working on the foundations of the power house. I was committed to go down there and if the dam should burst… The pylon and the cable housing stood right in the path of the flood. They would be swept away and the cable would swing loose. I should be dashed to pieces against the face of the fault.

It was probably only a few seconds that I hesitated there, not finding the courage to commit myself irrevocably to that awful drop; but it seemed an age. Then at last I eased the tension slightly on the rope and the cage dropped down from the lip, seeming to plunge sickeningly on the steep drop down the cliff face. Nervously I strained at the rope till I was hardly moving. But as I gained confidence in the braking system I let it move faster so that soon I was past the steepest point and levelling out in a long glide towards the pylon on the slide up. Once I looked back, fearful that the dam was breaking up behind me and the pent-up waters of the lake thundering over the edge of the fault, but all I saw was a thin trickle, a slender veil of white wavering and falling, infinitely slowly, to beat in a white froth against the base of the cliff.

The pylon slid by and then I was running almost free to the concrete housing. Below me I saw men pausing in their work to look up at me, faces gleaming white in the sunlight. The heat from the rocks came up and hit me. The warm resinous smell of the pines closed round me. It seemed impossible that disaster should hang over this peaceful scene. I shouted to them that the dam was breaking as I swung over their heads and they stared at me with vacant, uncomprehending expressions. Either they didn’t believe me or they didn’t understand what I was saying, for I started no panic; they just stared at me and then got on with their work. And then I was past them and dropping down to the housing. I slid into it gently and climbed out and started back up the roadway to the site where they were working. I reached a bunch of trucks unloading materials. I yelled to the men around them to get them moving back to the camp where they would be safe. ‘The dam’s breaking up,’ I shouted at them. I climbed to the cab of the first truck and signalled to the men working on the site with the horn. ‘Get back to the camp!’ I shouted to them at the top of my voice. ‘The dam’s going. Get back to the camp!’

My voice seemed a thin reed in the vastness of the place. It was lost in the clatter of the concrete mixers and the din of metal on stone. But here and there men were stopping to stare at me and then talk to men working near them. One or two dropped their tools and moved towards me. I kept on shouting to them, my throat dry with fear and the sweat running out of every pore. I felt weak with the effort of trying to make them understand. I hadn’t realised it would be so difficult to get them started up to the camp, to safety. But here and there men began to move, and in a moment it seemed the word buzzed through the whole site and they began to move away from the slide towards the timber, slowly, like bewildered sheep.

And then Trevedian was there, shouting at them, telling them to get back to work. ‘What are you?’ he roared at them. ‘A bunch of yellow-bellies to be fooled into hiding away in the woods because this fellow Wetheral is so mad at us for drowning the Kingdom that he comes down here shouting a lot of bloody nonsense about the dam. He’s a screw-ball, you know that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been drilling for oil up there. Now get back to work and don’t be so damned easily fooled.’ He turned and came towards me. ‘You get the hell out of here,’ he shouted. His face was dark with anger.

The men had stopped, hanging uncertainly where they stood. My eyes lifted involuntarily to the cleft between the peaks. Was it my imagination or was the veil of white that wavered down the face of the fault wider and bigger? My legs felt weak and my throat was dry. I had to suppress a great desire to run. I shouted to them again to get clear whilst they could. ‘Do you think I’d risk coming down the hoist on the brakes, leaving my friends up there, if the situation wasn’t serious. There was a hole a yard wide halfway down the dam when I left. It will be a lot bigger now. Any minute the whole thing may collapse. The original structure was built of dud cement.’ I glanced up again at the cleft. ‘Well, if you won’t save yourself, I can’t help it. I’ve done my best.’ I jumped down from the truck and started to run. I thought that would get them moving. Trevedian thought so, too. I saw him glance quickly at the men. Doubt and uncertainty and the beginnings of fear showed in the faces of some of those nearest to me. He swung back towards me, started forward to intercept me and then stopped. ‘Max!’ His voice was sharp, domineering. ‘Max — stop him!’

I glanced quickly towards the timber. It was about fifty yards away and between me and it stood the huge, bear-like figure of Max Trevedian.

‘Get him, Max!’ Trevedian turned to his men. ‘And you — stay where you are. Are you going to let a crazy coot like this scare you? Why, we’ve only just built the dam. We’ll soon see what all this is about. Max! Get hold of him. I want to talk to him.’

Max had already started forward, moving towards me at a shambling run, his great arms swinging loose. I stopped. ‘Don’t be a fool, Max. It’s Bruce. Remember? Up there in the Kingdom. Stay where you are!’

I tried to talk to him as I would to a child. I tried desperately to get the same authority into my voice as his brother had. But my voice trembled with the urgency of my message and I hadn’t the intimacy of childhood memories. My words failed to get through and he came on, moving surprisingly fast. I heard Trevedian telling his men to stay where they were, telling them he’d soon find out what all this was about, and then my hand touched the gun in my pocket. ‘Max!’ I shouted. ‘For God’s sake stay where you are.’ And as he came steadily on, my fingers, automatically finding the opening to my pocket slipped in and closed over the butt of the gun. I took it out.

Max was not more than thirty yards from me now. I glanced quickly up towards where the men were standing in a close-packed huddle. They were scared and uncertain. Once Max reached me I knew I’d never get them moving in time. It was Max or them — one man or nearly a hundred. ‘Max!’ I screamed. ‘Stay where you are!’ And then, as he came on, I raised the weapon slowly, took careful aim at his right leg above the knee and fired.

The report was a thin, sharp sound in the rock-strewn valley. Max’s mouth opened, a surprised look on his face. He took two stumbling steps and then pitched forward on to his face and lay there, writhing in pain.

‘You swine! You’ll pay for this.’

I swung round to find Trevedian coming at me. I raised the gun. ‘Get back,’ I said. And then as he stopped I knew I had the situation under control for the moment. ‘Now get out of here, all of you,’ I ordered. ‘Any man who’s still around in one minute from now will get shot. And for God’s sake see you find high ground. Now, get moving.’ To start them I sent a bullet whistling over their heads. They turned then and made for the timber, bunched close together like a herd of stampeding cattle. Only Trevedian and the man who was with him stood their ground. ‘Get your brother out of here to safety,’ I ordered him.

He didn’t move. He was staring at me, his eyes wide and unblinking. ‘You must be crazy,’ he murmured.

‘Don’t be a fool,’ I snapped. ‘Come on. Get your brother out of here.’

‘That dam was all right. Government engineers inspected it at every stage. We had engineers in to inspect it before we started the work of completing it.’ He shook his head angrily. ‘I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it.’ He turned to the man beside him. ‘We’ll see if we can get them on the hoist phone. If not I’m going up there. Will you run the engine for me?’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ I said. ‘Every moment you delay-’

‘Oh, go to hell,’ he shouted. ‘Come on, George.’ They started at a run for the cable terminal. For a second I considered firing, trying to stop them. But my fractional hesitation had put them out of effective range. Anyway, what the hell. Maybe he’d make it, and if he didn’t…

I turned away and went over to where Max lay with his body doubled up over a big splinter of rock. His face was bloodless and he was unconscious. His right leg was twisted under him and blood was seeping on to the stones, a crimson splash in the sunlight. I got hold of him by the arms and began to drag him over the rocks. He was incredibly heavy. Each time I paused I called towards the line of trees, hoping one of the men would have the guts to come back and help me. But the timber seemed silent and empty. If anyone heard me, he didn’t come down to help. In shooting Max I had finally convinced them of the urgency of the danger, just as I had convinced Trevedian himself.

Foot by foot I dragged Max’s body along the stone-packed road, up the hill to the timber. Every few yards I had to pause. I heard the diesel start up and saw the cage move out of its staging. Trevedian still working on the cradle, tapping home the pins that locked the driving cable to it.

I suppose I was about halfway to the timber when I paused and glanced up once again at the cleft between the two peaks that towered high above us. The cage was halfway up the face of the fault, a small box swaying gently on the spider’s silk of the cable. And then my eyes lifted to the pylon at the top and suddenly all my body froze. A solid wave of water and rock burst from the lip of the cliff. The pylon vanished, smothered and swept away by it. And as the water spouted outwards over the cliff edge a distant rumbling reached my ears. It went on and on, sifting down from above, echoing from slope to slope from the face of the cliff. I remember seeing the cage sway violently and watching the brown flood fall with slow deliberation down the fault, frothing and spouting great gouts of white as it thundered against ledges and outcrops, smashing away great sections of the rock face with its force, flinging them outwards and down. And I stood there, rigid, unable to move, fascinated and appalled by the spectacle.

A shattering roar filled the whole valley as that monstrous fall of rock and water hit the base of the fault and came thundering on in a mighty, surging wall down the slide. I saw the pylon at the top of the slide smashed to rubble and I remember how the cable suddenly broke and the cage began to swing slowly in towards the cliff. And then I was suddenly running, climbing desperately towards the timber. I heard the angry thunder of those pent-up waters crash down the valley behind me and then the swirling fringe of it reached out to me, sent a line of trees crashing as though cut by a great scythe, caught at my legs and buried me in a frothing flood of water.

I struck out madly, reaching up towards the surface, gasping for breath. Then I was flung against something and all the breath was knocked out of my body. Pain ran like a knife up my right leg. Something swirled against me and I clutched at it, felt the soft texture of clothing and hung on. Then the water sank, my feet touched ground and as pain shot through me again, almost blacking me out, the branch of a tree curled over me and I clutched at it, holding on with the grip of desperate fear.

I must have passed out, for when I next remember anything I was lying on the sodden earth, still clutching the branch with my right hand, my left hand twined in Max’s jacket. He was lying face down beside me, his left ear almost torn off by a jagged cut that had opened to show the white of his jaw bone. And just beyond Max, only a few yards below us, a colossal flood of brown water went ripping and roaring down Thunder Creek. The valley was a cataract a thousand yards across and the face of the slide was a monstrous series of falls and rapids. And in the centre of this violent rush of water great rocks were on the move, grinding slowly down through a welter of foam. And on the fringes the scene was one of mad devastation, timber and earth and brush swept clean down to the bare rock by the first rush of the waters. I stared at it all through a blur of pain, saw the peaks of Solomon’s Judgment and the lake spilling through the cleft, felt the sun blazing down on me and passed out again.

I think it was pain that brought me round. I heard a voice say, ‘It’s his leg all right.’ The words were remote and faintly unreal. I opened my eyes to see two faces bending over me. And then they began to move me and I was screaming as the pain ran up my right side, splintering like sparks of electricity in my brain. For hours it seemed I alternated between periods of blessed unconsciousness and periods of searing pain. I remember the noise and jolting of a truck, the sound of voices, the feel of a spoon against my teeth and the smell of brandy. I think I must have asked at some time about Max. At any rate, I knew somehow that he was alive. And then there were starched uniforms and the smell of ether and the jab of a needle.

I woke at last to full consciousness in a little room where the blinds were drawn against the sunlight. There was a movement beside me and a hand closed over mine. I turned then and saw Jean bending over me. Her face was pale and drawn, but her eyes smiled at me. ‘Better?’

I nodded, trying to accustom myself to the surroundings, to her presence. It was so quiet after the roar of the waters. I tried to move my body, but I seemed weighed down. My right leg was wooden and solid, my chest stiff and painful. It hurt to breathe and I had to force myself to speak. ‘I’m in hospital, aren’t I?’ I asked her.

She nodded. ‘Don’t talk. And don’t worry. You’re all right. You’ve broken a leg, a collar bone and three ribs. The doctor says you’ll be fine in a week or two.’

‘And Max?’

‘Fractured skull and left arm’s broken. But he’ll be all right. There’s a bullet wound in his leg, but it’s not serious.’. Her hand reached out, touched my forehead and then her fingers were sliding through my hair in a caress. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Everything’s going to be all right.’

I lay back and closed my eyes. I felt very sleepy. Her voice seemed a long way away. My mind was drugged. Her voice got fainter and fainter. She was saying something about the rig, about newspaper men, about them knowing now that we’d struck oil. It didn’t seem important any more and her voice faded entirely as I slid into sleep again.

When next I woke the room was dark. I tried to raise myself, but the pain in my chest brought on a cold sweat. I lay there for a long time, my eyes open, seeing nothing in the darkness. Somewhere out in the night a train hooted and I heard the rattle of its wheels on the points. I was thinking what a waste of effort this was, this struggle back to life. Why couldn’t I have died there, quickly and easily in the flood of the burst dam? And then I remembered Max and how I had held him against the tearing grasp of the flood and I was glad. God had been good to me. He had given me time to get the men away from the slide, and we’d brought in a well. For some reason I found myself remembering how I had knelt on the floor of my digs in London and prayed for God’s guidance and for His help in doing what my grandfather had asked of me. And suddenly words were forming on my lips and I was thanking God that I had been able to achieve so much.

Slowly light filtered into the room and day dawned, grey and thick with cloud mist. Dozing gently I was conscious of the beginning of movement in the hospital and in no time, it seemed, a nurse was bringing breakfast in to me. ‘Well, how’s the great oil man this morning?’

I stared at her and she laughed. ‘You don’t imagine anybody’s discussing the international situation with you here in town, do you?’ She put the tray down on a bed table and swung it across me. ‘Now, you stay quiet and eat that egg. It’s time you got some food inside you. And I brought you the papers so that you can read all about yourself. There’s pictures of Campbell’s Kingdom and of the discovery well with the rig all broken and twisted. Dr Graham said he reckoned the papers were about the best tonic for you he had in the hospital. And here’s a letter for you.’

I took the envelope and slit it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, most of which was filled with signatures. The letter was very brief and as I read my eyes blurred.

The Golden Calf, Come Lucky, B.C. Dear Mr Wetheral This letter, signed by all of us who were working on the site of the power station, is to tell you how grateful we all are to you. If you had not risked your life and come down the hoist to warn us, not one of us would be alive today. We sure are sorry that you are in hospital because of this and wish you a speedy recovery. We will do what we can to express our gratitude and in the meantime we would like you to know that you can count on the undersigned at any time to do anything to assist you.

There followed three columns of signatures spreading over on to the back — names that were of Polish, French, Italian and Chinese origin as well as English. I looked up at the nurse. ‘What day is it?’ I asked her.

‘Friday.’

And the Kingdom had been flooded on Tuesday. ‘I’ve been out a long time,’ I murmured.

‘Not as long as you will be if you don’t get some food inside you,’ she said as she went out.

As I ate my breakfast I read through the papers.

They were full of the disaster. But there was the story of the well we had brought in, too — interviews with Garry and Johnnie, and in one of them a long feature article headed — ‘There’s Oil in the Rocky Mountains.’ The writer was Steve Strachan and in it he acknowledged the quotation as belonging to Stuart Campbell and made it clear that the old man was now completely vindicated. I put the paper down and lay back, suddenly completely happy.

The doctor came in then. He gave my broken bones only a cursory examination and then started to go over me thoroughly, listening to my breathing, taking my blood pressure, feeling my pulse, listening to my heart beats, and all the time asking me questions. ‘What’s the trouble, Doc?’ I asked him.

‘Oh, just a routine check-up.’

But I knew this wasn’t routine for a man with a broken leg and a few broken ribs. And when they wheeled in the X-ray apparatus I knew he was on to the real trouble. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ I said, and I told him what Maclean-Harvey’s verdict had been.

He shrugged his shoulders and I bit my lip as they shifted me to get the screen and X-ray tube in position. ‘How did you know I’d got cancer?’ I asked him.

‘Jean Lucas told me,’ he answered.

‘Jean!’ I tried to turn, but a hand gripped my shoulder, steadying me. All I could see was the nurse’s white uniform. I stared at a bone button, wondering how Jean knew.

They were some time taking the photographs and when they had finished they made me comfortable and trundled the equipment out. The doctor was not in the room, but he returned a few minutes later. ‘All right, Mr Wetheral? I hope they didn’t cause you too much pain moving you.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It just seemed pointless, that’s all.’

He nodded and drew up a chair beside me. ‘Does it occur to you that for a man who was given two to six months to live way back in the spring you’ve been remarkably active lately?’

There seemed no point in conserving energy,’ I murmured.

‘No, no, of course not.’ He hesitated and then said quietly, ‘There have been cures, you know.’

‘Have there?’ I looked at him, seeing his broad, rather serious features through a blur of pain as I shifted my position. ‘I thought cancer was incurable.’

‘Aye.’ He nodded. ‘It’s incurable as far as the medical profession is concerned. But there are such things as spontaneous cures. We don’t know the cause of them. I wish we did. Some change in the chemistry of the patient, maybe — or a psychological readjustment. Anyway, once in a while it happens.’ He leaned forward, his large grey eyes peering down at me from behind the thick-lensed glasses. ‘Listen, Wetheral. I don’t want to raise any false hopes. We’ll know soon enough when they’ve developed those X-ray plates. There’s just a chance, that’s all.’ There was a glint of excitement in his eyes now. It showed in his manner, in the way he spoke. ‘I can’t believe a case as desperate as yours must have been when Dr Maclean-Harvey gave you that verdict could have gone on for five months, living the way you have been, unless the condition had improved. There’s no internal haemorrhage and no trace now of secondary anaemia. You’ve been eating well and instead of getting weaker, you’ve got stronger.’ He suddenly sat back, taking his glasses off and polishing them. ‘I shouldn’t really have spoken to you about it. I should have waited till I had the X-ray results. But-’ He hesitated and got to his feet. ‘It’s a most interesting case, you see. I didn’t want you to feel that I was just taking the opportunity to examine a cancer growth.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘You must be about as obstinate a man as your grandfather, I guess. Anyway, I’ll be back as soon as I’ve got a picture of what’s going on inside you.’

He left me then and for a while I lay there, thinking over what he had said. I felt suddenly restless. The mood of excitement I had seen reflected in the doctor’s eyes had communicated itself to me. For the first time in months there was no immediate problem ahead of me and I was free to consider the future. Almost unconsciously I reached for the papers and began reading Steve’s article again. I was still reading it when the nurse showed Jean in. She was followed by Johnnie and Garry.

‘We just looked in to say goodbye,’ Johnnie said. ‘Garry’s off to Edmonton to see about a new rig and I’m going up to the Kingdom.’ He came and stood over me, his eyes narrowed as though he were looking straight into the sun, a lazy smile on his lined face.

‘You look pretty damn comfortable lying there, Bruce.’

‘What are you going up to the Kingdom for?’ I asked him.

‘Well, that’s what I came to see you about, I guess.’ He rubbed his chin awkwardly. ‘You see, the boys who were working on the power station have got together and put up some dough. A few of them are coming up to the Kingdom with me and my two Americans to clear up Campbell’s place and make it snug for the winter. The rest-’ He hesitated. ‘Well, it’s like this, Bruce, they came to me and asked what they could do about it. They’re a decent bunch and they felt sort of bad about you lying here in hospital and all of them fit and well. I didn’t know quite what to say, but I hinted you were figuring on settling down around this neighbourhood so they’ve decided to buckle to and build you a house down by the ford at the entrance to Thunder Valley. You know, the place we camped.’

‘But I couldn’t possibly allow them to do that,’ I said. ‘They’ve got their living to-’

‘Now, listen, Bruce,’ he cut in. ‘They feel bad about this. It’s their way of showing they’re grateful to you. You just got to accept it. It’s a sort of-’ He glanced at Jean, and then said, ‘Well, anyway, they want to do it and nothing’ll stop them, I guess.’ He moved awkwardly to the door. ‘I must be going now. You coming, Garry?’

The big drilling contractor nodded. ‘I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re okay.’ He gripped my left hand.

‘And I’m proud to be associated with you.’ He coughed in embarrassment and added quickly, ‘I’ll go down to Calgary and see Winnick. Things will begin to hum now. I’ll tell him you’ll be in to see him as soon as you can. I’ll see you then and find out whether you want to sell out to one of the big companies or whether you plan to develop the area yourself.’

He turned quickly and went out, leaving me alone with Jean. She hadn’t moved all the time they had been talking. I glanced at her face. It was very pale and she seemed nervous. ‘You look much better,’ she murmured, her eyes sliding away from mine. ‘Dr Graham’s very pleased with you.’

‘What’s Boy doing?’ I asked, shying away from the direct question that was on my mind.

‘He stayed on up in the Kingdom.’ She hesitated. ‘I think he’ll settle in this area now. He’s always loved it here.’

An awkward silence fell between us. She moved towards the window. ‘Did Dr Graham say anything to you?’ She had turned to face me.

I closed my eyes. She looked so cool and fresh and — radiant. ‘How did you know I had cancer of the stomach?’ I asked.

‘I don’t believe you have.’ Her voice was sharp as though mere words could kill the parasitical growth. ‘Nobody could do the things you’ve done-’

‘How did you know I had it?’ I interrupted her.

‘Sarah Garret told me.’

‘She shouldn’t have. I told her because-’ What was the use of talking about it? I felt tired now. ‘I want to sleep,’ I murmured. Anything to get her out of the room, to avoid having to look at her and have her eyes and face and body reproaching me for the future that might have been. ‘Please, Jean,’ I whispered. ‘Leave me. Let me go to sleep now.’

There was no sound in the room only a tense silence. Then I heard her move. ‘Not until I’ve said something,’ she said gently. I opened my eyes to see her bending over me. A shaft of sunlight touched her hair, rimming her face in gold. Her hand touched my face, smoothing my forehead. ‘I’m not leaving you, Bruce. Whether you marry me or not doesn’t matter, but you’ll just have to get used to having me around.’

I stared up at her for a moment and then closed my eyes. I think I wanted to hold the memory of her face, that little smile that spread up into the eyes. ‘The doctor may be wrong,’ I murmured.

‘If you weren’t injured I’d slap you for that.’ Her voice trembled slightly. Then she bent over me and her lips touched mine. ‘I seem fated to fall in love with men who are under sentence of death.’ Her fingers touched my temple and then I heard her footsteps cross the room, the door closed and I was alone. I lay there, feeling relaxed and happy. I wasn’t afraid of anything now. I wasn’t alone. Even the pain seemed dull as I sank into a deep sleep.

It is winter now and the mountains lie under a white mantle of snow. I am writing this, sitting at the desk my grandfather made. Johnnie brought it down from the Kingdom with him. Through the window I look across a clearing in the cottonwoods to the ford where the waters of Thunder Creek glide swift and black to the lake. Some day that clearing will be a garden. Already Jean has a library of gardening books sent out from England and is planning the layout. We are full of plans — plans for the house, plans for the development of the Kingdom, plans for a family. It is just wonderful to sit back and plan. To plan something is to have a future. And to have a future is to have the whole of life.

As you’ve probably guessed already, the miracle did happen. Dr Graham was right. The X-ray pictures showed no trace of a cancer growth. How it happened nobody seems to know. I can only quote the letter I received from Dr Maclean-Harvey.

Dear Mr Wetheral,

Dr Graham has sent me the full details of your case as at 27th August, together with the X-ray photographs he has had taken. I can only say that I entirely agree with his view that there is now no trace of cancer and that you are completely cured and have no need to worry for the future.

You must be wondering now whether I was correct in my original diagnosis. For your benefit I am sending Dr Graham copies of the X-rays taken at the London Hospital on 17th April together with a copy of the case notes I made at the time. You might like to frame one of the pictures side-by-side with Graham’s X-rays as a reminder that you have confounded the experts! I need hardly add that I am delighted that you have.

Dr Graham will doubtless have told you that occasionally cases of spontaneous cure do occur in cancer. The causes are not known and the instances are few. In your case I am inclined to the view that it may be largely psychological. You underwent a sudden and complete change of environment, coupled with the acquisition of an intense interest — or, since I understand you have recently got married, I should perhaps say interests. This, together with the fact that you became involved in a struggle outside yourself, may well have given you an overwhelming interest in living which you had not before. All this is not strictly within orthodox medicine, but in a case of this sort it is necessary to look beyond the laboratory and the operating theatre. It is perhaps nearer to the miracle than to medicine.

Finally, may I say how happy I am to be able to record in this instance a complete reversal of my expectations. It is cases like yours that place our medical achievements to date in their proper perspective and give to the profession that desire to go on searching diligently for the cure to a terrible disease. I wish you every success and if ever you come to England I hope you will come and see me.

Yours sincerely,

Douglas Maclean-Harvey.

On the wall behind me is a big frame, a sort of montage of pictures and documents. There are the X-ray photographs, before and after, Maclean-Harvey’s letter, a picture of Campbell Number Two before it blew in, a photograph of the dam, the original of my grandfather’s will and the document signed by Roger Fergus returning to me the mineral rights of Campbell’s Kingdom. There in that frame is the whole story of the last six months. Now I have put it down on paper. What the future has in store, I do not know. What does it matter? The great thing is to have a future. We will begin drilling operations up in the Kingdom as soon as the snows melt. Maybe I’ll end up a millionaire. But all the money in the world cannot buy what I have now.