Campbell's Kingdom

CHAPTER FIVE

Walking back to the hotel my mind unconsciously dwelt on the hatred these people had for my grandfather and thinking about this had a queer effect on the way I saw Come Lucky. The place was no longer just an ordinary shack town that was gradually falling into ruin. The desolation seemed suddenly to have a menace of its own. It had become something alive and positive. The hardness of the mountains seemed to have moved in among the dark shapes crouched against the glimmer of the snow and as I negotiated the crumbling sidewalk, clutching the cardboard box under my arm, I felt fear creeping up my spine and prickling my scalp.

I think something of this communicated itself to Pauline for she suddenly said, ‘How long will you be staying here?’

‘I don’t know,’ I answered.

Her hand tightened on my arm. ‘Do not forget the winters are long here.’

‘How do you mean?’

We had reached The Golden Calf. Lights showed through the window and there was a murmur of voices. She paused with her hand on the door. ‘Things that are small to you become big to us here at this time of the year.’

I remembered the Victorian drawing-room and the sharp grey eyes of Miss Garret avid for gossip, the sudden violence of Max Trevedian and the sullenness of James McClellan. The wind blew up the valley with the damp chill of the sea. The water gurgled under the snow.

‘We will go. in through the bar,’ Pauline said. ‘The snow is too soft now for us to go round the back. It is always like this when the chinook is blowing.’ She pressed the latch of the door and pushed it open. The murmur of voices died as we entered. There were fully a dozen men clustered round the fire now and they stared at us with the dumb, curious gaze of cattle scenting a stranger. ‘Here he is now,’ one of them hissed. ‘Give him the telegram, Hut.’ I saw Peter Trevedian watching me. He was sitting with his brother at one of the tables. Bladen was there, too, talking to Mac.

An old man with long, sad moustaches rose slowly and came towards me. He was dressed all in black with a shapeless, wide-brimmed hat on his head and he was as slim-hipped as a boy. ‘You Bruce Wetheral?’ His voice was mild and gentle.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Then this’ll be for you, I guess.’ He held out a telegraph form. ‘I brought’n in from Keithley this evenin’.’

The paper was creased and much thumbed. I opened it out and took it to the lamp, wondering who could possibly know I was here.

Bruce Wetheral, Come Lucky, B.C.

The message read: Have persuaded Larsen Company to increase offer. Urgent I see you. Hope arrive Come Lucky Tuesday, bringing Henry Fergus, chairman Larsen Mines. Please await our arrival. Vital we finally come to terms re purchase of Kingdom or alternative plan will definitely be adopted. Signed — Acheson.

I glanced at the head of the form. It had been handed in at Calgary at 4.10 p.m.

The silence in the room was intense as I stuffed it into my pocket. The men’s eyes fixed hungrily on my face and it was obvious that they knew the contents of that wire. The beast that had crouched out there in the darkness of the tattered town seemed to have moved into the huge, empty bar-room. I turned quickly and started for the door, intent upon escaping to my room.

But the old man who had given me the wire barred my way. ‘We’d take it as a favour if you’d spare us a moment of your time,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ I asked him.

He tugged awkwardly at his moustache. ‘We-ell. It’s like this, I guess, Mr Wetheral. What we want to know is — are you going to sell or not?’

‘I don’t see that it concerns you.’ I tried to keep my voice natural, but it sounded abrupt against the tension in that room.

He stared at me. ‘You wouldn’t understand, I guess. You’re a stranger here. But the completion of the Solomon’s Judgment dam means a lot to us. You’ve seen what Come Lucky is — they call it a ghost town.’ He suddenly raised a gnarled fist and declaimed. ‘The wrath of the Lord descended upon it and upon us, its inhabitants. Fire and brimstone was sent to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Here for our sins the Lord has sent age and decay.’ His eyes gleamed like bright stones as he got into his stride. ‘We- came from far places, from decent communities of honest, hard-working people, lured by the riches of gold and oil. We worshipped Mammon and we were abased- We worshipped the golden calf and the Lord sent avalanches to destroy our mines. Oil sprang from the rocks and we took it for 9 sign.’ He flung wide his arms like some fantastic scarecrow. ‘I tell you it was the Devil who-’

‘It was old man Campbell, Hut,’ somebody cut in.

‘Campbell was the instrument — the means of our temptation,’ the old man cried. ‘We were tempted. We forgot the forty days in the wilderness. We forgot the words of the Holy Book. We were tempted and we fell, and for our sins the Lord decreed that our sons should leave us and our town decay, that we should waste our lives in fruitless hopes and finally perish and be sentenced to everlasting Hell fire.’

‘Come to the point, Hut.’ It was the man with the fur cap.

The old man glared at the interruption. ‘Peace, George Riley… The way of the wicked is as darkness. We have been tempted and have fallen into evil ways, but the day of our redemption is nigh.’ And then, reverting to his ordinary voice with startling abruptness, he added, ‘You, sir, hold the power to redeem us.’

‘What he means is that if they complete the dam Come Lucky will have a new lease of life.’ This from James McClellan. He turned to his wife. ‘You clear off, Pauline. You shouldn’t be in here.’ His eyes slipped back to me, hard and anxious. ‘You may not realise it, but your grandfather is largely responsible for the way things are in this town. This damned story of oil flowing out of the rocks below the Kingdom was believed by my father and most of the men in this room now. Campbell talked them into putting-’

‘He was the Devil himself,’ the old Hutterite cried. ‘The Devil himself come to tempt us. He offered us riches and we sold our families into slavery and brought ruin to our town. Wretched is he-’

‘Campbell was a swindler.’ The cry piped shrilly from Max Trevedian’s huge bulk. ‘A bloodsucking-’

‘Shut up, Max.’ Peter Trevedian’s quiet voice silenced his brother instantly.

‘Max is right,’ McClellan said. ‘Your grandfather got the people of this town to put their money into his oil companies and they lost everything. The place gradually fell into decay and when their sons and daughters grew up they left home and went-’

‘The sins of the fathers-’ the old man cried.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Hut.’ McClellan half shrugged his shoulders and then he came slowly across the room towards me. ‘See here, Wetheral. Your grandfather was an obstinate old man. He thought more of his damned Kingdom than he did of the people he’d ruined.’ There was a growl of agreement. ‘This scheme has been talked about for more than a year now. But he wouldn’t sell and he swore he wouldn’t leave. They didn’t dare drown the old-’ He left the sentence unfinished and his hand clenched tight. The damned visitors who came up here regarded him as a character. They went up there and filled him full of rye and listened to his stories. Newspaper men, too. They wrote columns about him and they’d have fought the company if they’d tried to flood him out. Well, he’s dead now. And nobody ain’t going to fight for you, Wetheral. You’re a stranger here.’ He looked round the men at the tables. ‘We want to be sure that you’re not going to stand in the way of the townsfolk here the way the old man did.’

The others nodded. ‘We want to be certain sure you’re going to sell to the company,’ the bundle of old rags with the fur cap said in a reedy voice. ‘If you do that then there’ll be money in Come Lucky again, I guess. I can open up my store. Ain’t bin open since 1941.’

‘George is right,’ exclaimed another. There’ll be money, and work for those that want it. Peter’ll have the cable going again, won’t you, Peter? There’ll be all the machinery to haul up and the materials to complete the dam. It’ll be like old times here in Come Lucky.’

‘It sure will.’

‘Well?’ McClellan asked. ‘What are you going to do? Let’s have it right here and now so that we know where we stand.’

‘Ar. Let’s hear now.’

I stared at them, all eyeing me, all silent now, waiting. McClellan’s eyes were fixed on me greedily. And suddenly all of them seemed to have the hunger of greed in their eyes, as though the old boom days were just around the corner. They were like a bunch of shiftless curs eyeing a bone.

‘Well?’ The old Hutterite’s voice was hard with eagerness.

‘I’m not selling,’ I said.

Peter Trevedian’s chair flung back against the wall with a crash as he got to his feet. ‘You said you were going to think it over.’

‘I’ve done so,’ I said. ‘And I’ve made up my mind. I’m not selling.’

He swung round on the others. ‘I told you what it would be. We’re going to have the same damned nonsense all over again.’ He got control of himself then and came towards me. ‘Look, the townsfolk here want this scheme to go through. It’s important to them.’ His tone was considered and reasonable, but his eyes were hard and angry as they stared at me. ‘You owe it to the people your grandfather ruined.’

‘And suppose he was right?’ I said.

‘What — about the oil?’

There was a hoot of laughter.

‘Then show us the river of oil,’ somebody called out. And another shouted, ‘Aye. You drown Come Lucky with oil. We’ll drown the Kingdom with water. See who’s flooded out first.’ A shout of laughter followed this.

Under cover of it Trevedian said quietly, ‘Take my advice, sell the place and get out.’

I turned to Bladen. ‘Tell me the truth about that survey,’ I said.

‘Oh, to hell with the survey,’ Trevedian snapped. ‘Why don’t you think about the people here for a change?’

‘Why should I?’ I cried. ‘What did they ever do for my grandfather except try and cash in on his discovery and then blame him when they lost their money. I might have been willing to sell out-’ I looked round at the group facing me. The watery eyes of the old men glistened in the lamplight. They looked as ghostly as the town and their eyes had the fever-brightness of men about to jump a claim. ‘But I’ve just discovered that my grandfather knew the results of that survey. Somebody took a copy of the report Up to him just before winter set in.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ James McClellan demanded.

‘Just this.’ My voice trembled. ‘In my opinion the man who did that was responsible for my grandfather’s death. Because of that the welfare of this town is no longer a consideration as far as I’m concerned. And if I knew who’d done it-’

‘If you knew, what would you do, huh?’ Max Trevedian had thrust his massive body to its feet. ‘I took that report up. I gave it to Campbell.’ He lurched forward, hot hate in his eyes. ‘It killed him, did it? That is good.’

I stared at the foolish grin on his thick lips. ‘You’re mad,’ I heard myself say.

‘How was my brother to know that the report showed there was no possibility of oil up there?’ Peter Trevedian said. ‘We naturally thought the old man would want to know the result.’

I turned to him, staring at him. ‘You sent your brother up with that report,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Yes. I sent him.’

‘And how did you get hold of a second copy?’ He didn’t say anything, but just stood smiling at me. ‘Did this man Henry Fergus send it to you?’

He moved a step closer and his hand gripped my arm, ‘What do you think we are — a bunch of cattle to be sucked dry without any feelings about it? There’s forty years of hatred stored up in this town, hatred of Campbell and everything he did to us.’ He dropped my arm and turned away.

I looked round at the others. What I had seen in his eyes was reflected in theirs. It was then I noticed that Bladen had left. Feeling suddenly sick at heart I crossed to the door and went up to the seclusion of my room. It was bare and cold and very quiet. I put the cardboard box gently down on the chest of drawers. I had been clutching it very tightly as though it were the old man’s ashes and my fingers were stiff.

My face looked grey and haggard in the blotched mirror. I poured myself a stiff whisky, but the liquor didn’t warm me and I was still shaking as I slumped down on to the bed. The stillness seemed to close round me, the embodiment of the utter loneliness I felt. The scene in the bar-room had given me a foretaste of the struggle that lay ahead. All I had wanted to do was to crawl away to the seclusion of my grandfather’s kingdom and forget the outside world. I heard myself laugh. I hadn’t known the place was dominated by a half-completed dam. That dam was growing in my imagination to nightmare proportions. It seemed to hang over me.

I must have fallen asleep for I was suddenly startled by a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ I murmured. It was Pauline McClellan. She stood looking at me nervously. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ I said, pushing myself up on to my elbow. ‘What is it?’

‘Boy Bladen is down below. He wants to talk to you. Shall I tell him to come up?’

‘Yes.’

She hesitated. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’ % ‘No thanks.’

‘Goodnight then.’ She smiled and closed the door. I sat up and lit a cigarette. A moment later I heard Bladen’s feet on the stairs. He knocked and pushed open the door. ‘Mind if I come in?’ His voice was quiet, but his dark eyes had a peculiar brightness. He shut the door and stood there, hesitantly. ‘I’ve just been talking to Jean.’

He didn’t seem to know how to go on so I said, ‘Pull up a chair.’

I don’t think he heard me for he turned away towards the window. ‘When you spoke to me after tea this evening I didn’t know you’d emigrated to Canada, prepared to live up in the Kingdom and start out where Stuart had left off.’

He turned suddenly round on his heels, a quick, lithe movement. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that?’

‘I didn’t see any necessity,’ I murmured.

‘No, of course not.’ He lit a cigarette with quick, nervous movements. I had the feeling of something boiling up inside him. ‘You were outside Trevedian’s office this afternoon. How much did you hear of what we were saying?’

‘Enough I think to understand why you agreed with the report on your survey.’

‘You knew all the time I wasn’t being honest with you?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It was only when Jean Lucas confirmed that you’d been enthusiastic about the prospects of finding oil in the Kingdom that I began to put two and two together.’

‘I see.’ He turned away again towards the window. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, still with his back to me. ‘I thought you were just out to get the best price you could for the property. I thought… Hell!’ he said, turning sharply and facing me. ‘I was scared of losing my trucks. I’ve a lot of dough tied up in that equipment and if Trevedian had refused to bring them down the hoist-’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘All I’ve made in years of flying and in prospecting since the war is invested in that outfit.’

He suddenly pulled up a chair and sat down astride it, his hands gripping the back. ‘Now then, about the survey I did: I don’t know what the hell Winnick has been playing at, but I formed the impression I was surveying a perfect anticline. I can’t be sure. I’d need to plot the figures I got on a seismogram. But that was certainly my impression. It ran just about east and west across the Kingdom. Whether the nature of the rock strata was likely to be oil bearing I wouldn’t know. You have to be an expert geologist to determine that. But I do know this — the report Winnick made on the figures I sent him is a lot of hooey. I was never more surprised in my life than when I saw that article in the Edmonton Journal. I came across it quite by chance in a bar in Peace River. I was in town for a couple of days’ rest from the wildcat I was working on. I wrote to Louis right away, but all he said in reply was that if I cared to come and check the figures against the seismograms his office had prepared I’d find them accurate.’ He paused and blew out a streamer of smoke. ‘Maybe I slipped up. I’m not an expert and I’ve only been in the game three years. But I took time out to get a working knowledge of how the results of a seismographic survey were worked out and I can’t believe that the figures I sent him could have given the results he reported.’

‘Have you seen him?’ I asked.

‘No. I haven’t had a chance. I’ve only just come off this wildcat. But I will.’

‘You know him, do you?’

‘Oh, sure. I know him all right.’

‘Is he straight?’

‘Louis Winnick? Straight as a die. He wouldn’t be old Roger Fergus’ consultant if he weren’t. Why. What’s on your mind?’

‘I was just wondering how he could have produced a report that differs so violently from your impression.’

‘Well, maybe I was wrong. But Jean asked me to come and tell you what I really thought.’

‘Have you checked your figures with the ones Winnick worked from?’

‘I tell you, I haven’t seen him. But as soon as I get back to Calgary-’ He stopped. ‘What are you getting at?’

‘Did you take the results of your survey down to Winnick yourself?’

‘Of course not. I was working up in the Kingdom all the time. We sent them to him in batches.’

‘How?’

‘We had them mailed from Keithley.’

‘Yes, but how did you get them down to Keithley?’

‘By the hoist. Max Trevedian was running supplies up to us and each week-’ He stopped then. ‘Of course. All they had to do was substitute the figures of some unsuccessful survey.’ He jumped up to his feet and began pacing violently up and down the room. ‘No wonder Trevedian needed to be sure I kept my mouth shut.’ He stopped by the window and stood there, silent for a long time, drawing on his cigarette. ‘There’s something about the Kingdom,’ he said slowly. ‘It clings to the memory like a woman who wants to bear children and is looking for a man to father them. Last year, when I left, I had a feeling I should be coming back. There is a destiny about places. For each man there is a piece of territory that calls to him, that appeals to something deep inside him. I’ve travelled half the world. I know the northern territories and the Arctic regions of Canada like my own hand. But. nothing ever called to me with the fatal insistence of the Kingdom. All this winter it has been in my mind, and I have been afraid of it.’ He turned slowly and faced me, eyes alight as though he had seen a vision. ‘I just wanted to get my trucks and go. But now…’ He half-shrugged his shoulders and came towards me. ‘Jean said you wanted to prove Stuart right.’ His voice was suddenly practical. ‘She said you’d got guts and you’d do it if you had someone in with you to handle the technical side.’

‘She’s right about the first part,’ I said. ‘But it means drilling.’

‘Sure it means drilling. But-’ He hesitated. ‘How much is a drilling operation worth to you?’

I laughed then. ‘All I’ve got is a few hundred dollars.’

‘I don’t mean that.’ He resumed his seat astride the chair facing me. ‘Look. If I find the capital and the equipment, will you split fifty-fifty? By that I mean fifty-fifty of all profits resulting from drilling operations in the Kingdom.’

‘Aren’t you anticipating a bit?’ I said. ‘Even supposing your survey did show an anticline, you admit yourself it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s oil there.’

He nodded slowly. ‘You’re too damn levelheaded,’ he said, grinning. ‘All right. Let’s take it step by step. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Calgary. I’ll have a talk with Louis and look over the figures from which he prepared that report. Meantime, you get up to the Kingdom just as soon as they get the road through and the hoist working. You’ll find my trucks in one of the barns there. Somewhere in the instrument truck there are the results of the final surveys I did. In the worry of not being able to get my trucks out I forgot all about them. Bring them down with you and mail them direct to Louis. While you’re doing that I’ll go and see old Roger Fergus. He’s always been very good to me. I used to pilot for him quite a lot in the old days. He’s a pretty sick man now, but if I could get him interested he might put up the dough.’ He got to his feet, a gleam of excitement in his dark eyes. ‘Ever since I started in on this business I’ve dreamed of bringing in a well, of seeing the thing through right from the survey to the completion of drilling, knowing I had a stake in the result. If I can make Roger Fergus a proposition-’ He paused and lit another cigarette. ‘Would you split fifty-fifty for the chance of proving Stuart right?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘But-’

He held up his hand. ‘Leave it to me. Roger Fergus is an old man and he’s a gambler. That’s why he put up the dough for the survey. I don’t think he believed in Stuart, but he’d lost a lot of money in his ventures and he was willing to take a chance.’

‘The only person you could do it with is Fergus,’ I said. ‘Otherwise we’d be up against his son’s company. Besides, he owns the mineral rights. Of course,’ I added, ‘if you could get one of the big companies interested-’

He laughed. ‘There’s oil in the Rocky Mountains! You try and sell them that one. They’ve been caught for a million dollars on one wildcat in the Rockies and it brought in a dry well. No, if we’re going to bring in a well, it will have to be without the help of the companies.’ He turned towards the door. ‘You leave it to me. So long as I have your assurance that you’re prepared to split fifty-fifty?’

‘Of course,’ I said.

‘Okay then. You let Louis have those figures just as soon as you can get them. His office is on Eighth Avenue. I forget the number-’

‘I’ve got his address,’ I said. ‘His office is right next door to Henry Fergus and the Larsen Company.’ % He glanced at me quickly. ‘You don’t think-’ Look, Bruce, Winnick is okay. There’s nothing crooked about him. That I’m certain of. I’ll talk to him and then I’ll see the old man. I’ll wire you as soon as I’ve any news.’

‘And what about your trucks?’

‘Oh, to hell with the trucks,’ he grinned. ‘Anyway, we’ll maybe need them to check on the anticline.’ He took hold of the handle of the door. ‘I’ll leave you now. Jean said you were pretty tired. It’s the altitude. You’ll soon get used to it. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ I said. ‘And thanks for your help.’

He smiled. ‘Time enough to thank me when we bring in a well.’

The door closed and I was alone again. I lit another cigarette and lay back on the bed. The thing seemed suddenly to have moved beyond me. I didn’t feel I had the energy to cope with it.

During the next few days I saw quite a lot of Jean Lucas. She found me an old pair of skis and with the dog we trekked as far as the timber and across the lake to a little torrent where trout could be seen swimming in the dark pool among the rocks. She was a queer, quiet girl. She never talked for the sake of talking, only when she had something factual to say. She seemed a little afraid of words and mostly we trekked in silence. When we did talk she always kept the conversation away from herself. I found these expeditions very exhausting physically, but I didn’t tell her that because I enjoyed them. And they had one advantage, they made me sleep better than I had done in years.

Meantime, Creasy and his construction gang broke through the fall where the avalanche had carried the old road away and the talk after the evening meal was all of opening up the camp at the head of the creek and getting the hoist working.

When I got in on the Saturday Mac handed me a slip of paper. ‘Telegram for ye,’ he said. It was from Bladen. ‘Convinced figures not mine. Send Winnick those from Kingdom soonest possible. Roger Fergus died two days ago. Leaving for Peace River. Signed — Bladen. I looked across at the old man. ‘How did this come?’ I asked.

‘The telephone line has been repaired,’ he said. ‘They phoned it through to me from Keithley.’

I thanked him and went up to my room. So Roger Fergus was dead and that was that. I was sorry. There’d been something about him, a touch of the pioneer, and he had been my grandfather’s friend. And then I remembered how he’d talked of our meeting again soon and I shivered.

When Creasy got in that night he announced that they were through to the camp. ‘We’re wondering about the hoist,’ he said to James McClellan.

‘You don’t have to.’ McClellan answered. ‘It’ll work all right — I built it to last.’

‘Aye, ye did that,’ his father said and there was a sneer in the old man’s voice.

Hot, sudden anger flared in the younger man’s eyes. ‘Lucky I did,’ he said. ‘Ain’t anything more useless than a hoist that don’t work, I guess; unless it’s a gold mine that’s covered by a hundred feet of shoe — or the mineral rights in a country that ain’t got any oil.’

Father and son glared at each other sullenly. Then the older man shrugged his shoulders. ‘Aye, ye may be right, Jamie.’

The son thrust his chair back and got to his feet. ‘You’ll get your money back,’ he said sullenly.

When I went down to see Jean that evening it was raining hard and blowing half a gale from the west. Miss Sarah Garret opened the door to me. ‘Come in, Mr Wetheral, come in.’ She shut the door. ‘My sister and I were so sorry to hear about the death of Roger Fergus.’

I stared at her. ‘How did you know he was dead?’

‘But you received a telegram from Boy today saying so.’

I wondered whether Trevedian, too, knew the contents of that wire yet and if so what he was going to do about it. I wished now I had told Bladen to write.

‘… such a distinguished-looking man. He came here several times. That was when he was interested in Mr Campbell’s oil company. You’re very like Mr Campbell, you know.’ She cocked a bird-like glance at me. ‘Not in appearance, of course. But in — in some indefinable way. Things always happened in Come Lucky when Mr Campbell was around. And I do like things happening, don’t you?’ She smiled at me and her eyes twinkled. ‘So sensible of you to get Boy to do the organising of your venture.’

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Why?’ She tapped me with her fingers. ‘Go on with you. Think I don’t know why? I was young once, you know, and I understand only too well how lonely it can be for a girl up here in Come Lucky.’

‘But-’ I didn’t know what to say as she stood there twinkling at me. ‘I didn’t send Boy to Calgary,’ I said.

‘Of course not. You just let his enthusiasm run away with him.’ She gave a little tinkling laugh and then turned quickly at the sound of footsteps. ‘Ah, here she is,’ she said as Jean entered the room.

‘I gather you know about the wire I got from Boy,’ I said.

She nodded. ‘Miss McClellan was here two hours ago with the details of it. The news will be all over Come Lucky by now.’ She took me through into her own room. ‘You look tired,’ she said.

‘I feel it,’ I answered. ‘Fergus’ death-’ I hesitated. I think it was only then that the full implication of it dawned on me. I suddenly found myself laughing. It was so damned ironical.

‘Please,’ she cried. She had hold of my arm and was shaking me. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, controlling myself. ‘Only that Henry Fergus will now inherit the mineral rights of the Kingdom.’

She turned and stared at the fire. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ She reached for my arm. ‘But it’ll work out. You see.’ Her eyes were suddenly bright. ‘You’ve got a good partner in Boy. He’ll get the backing you need.’

She had spoken with unusual warmth. ‘Are you in love with him?’ I asked.

She stared at me in sudden shocked surprise and then turned away. ‘We’ll talk about the Kingdom, not me if you don’t mind,’ she said in a voice that trembled slightly. She sat down slowly by the fire and stared for a moment into the flames, lost in her own thoughts.

‘Why has Boy gone to Peace River, do you know?’ I asked her.

She stared slightly. ‘Has he? I didn’t know.’ Her voice was flat. She turned her head and looked at me. ‘He was working there during the winter.’

For some reason she had withdrawn into herself. I left shortly after that and returned to the hotel. I was tired anyway. The rain streamed down, steel rods against the lamplit windows of the bar, drilling holes in the greying snow. Jean had lent me several books; rare things in Come Lucky — the hotel only had American magazines and a few glossy paperbacks with lurid jackets. I planned to laze and read myself quietly to sleep. As I was starting upstairs Pauline came out of the kitchen. ‘Going to bed already, Bruce?’

‘Can you suggest anything better for me to do in Come Lucky?’ I asked her.

She smiled a trifle uncertainly. ‘I am sorry,’ she murmured. ‘It is very dull here.’ She hesitated. ‘And I am afraid we have not been very ‘ospitable.’ And then quickly, as though she wanted to say it before she forgot. ‘Jimmy is going up to the dam tomorrow.’

‘Do you mean up to the top, to the Kingdom?’ I asked.

She nodded.

‘When?’

‘They leave tomorrow after breakfast — he is going with Ben.’

‘Why do you tell me this?’

‘He ask me to tell you.’

‘Why?’

She hesitated. ‘Perhaps he thinks that if you see the dam for yourself you will understand what it means to him and to the others.’ She leaned forward and touched my arm. ‘You will go with him, won’t you, Bruce? He wants so badly for you to understand why it is we do not want this scheme to fall through. If you could see the hoist that he built…’ She stopped awkwardly. ‘He is not unfriendly really, you know. It is only that he is worried. The farm is not doing well and this hotel-’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The visitors are not enough to keep a barn like this running.’

‘Tell him I’d like to come with him, provided he’ll take me to the top if the hoist is working.’

‘Yes, I will tell him that.’ She flashed me a smile. ‘Goodnight, Bruce.’

‘Goodnight, Pauline.’

I went up to my room, suddenly too excited to think of reading. At last I was going to get a glimpse of the Kingdom.

I awoke to find daylight creeping into the room. The wind still howled and a sheet of corrugated iron clacked dismally. But the rain had ceased. The clouds had lifted, ragged wisps sailing above cold, white peaks. Footsteps sounded on the bare boards below and a door banged. Then silence again; silence except for the relentless sound of the wind and the gurgle of water seeking its natural level, starting on its long journey to the Pacific.

I was called at seven. The old Chinaman shuffled across the room to the wash basin with a steaming jug of water. ‘You sleep well, Mister?’ His wrinkled face smiled at me disinterestedly as he gave me the same greeting he had given me every morning I had been there. ‘Snow all gone. Plenty water. Plenty mud. You get to the dam okay today.’

By the time I had finished breakfast James McClellan was waiting for me. He took me down to the bunkhouse through a sea of mud. There was a truck there and Max Trevedian was loading drums of diesel fuel into the back of it.

‘All set?’ I turned to find Peter Trevedian slithering down through the mud towards us. He wore an old flying jacket, the fur collar turned up, and a shaggy, bearskin cap.

‘Just about,’ McClellan said.

Max Trevedian paused with one of the drums on his shoulders. ‘You are going to Campbell’s Kingdom today.’ He had a foolish expectant look on his face, and his eyes were excited.

‘We’re going to the dam,’ his brother replied, glancing at me.

The dam — the Kingdom, same thing,’ Max growled. ‘We go together, huh?’

‘No.’

‘But-’ His thick, loose lips trembled. I thought how like the lips of a horse they were. ‘But I must go up. You tell me he do not rest. You tell me-’

‘Shut up!’ His brother’s voice was violent and the poor fool cringed away from him. ‘Get to work and finish loading the truck.’

Max hesitated, half turning. But then he reached out a long arm and gripped his brother’s elbow. ‘Maybe the old devil still alive, eh? Maybe if we-’ His brother struck him across the mouth then and seized him by his jacket and shook him. ‘Will you shut up,’ he shouted. And then as Max gaped at him, a lost, bewildered expression on his ugly features, Trevedian put his arms affectionately round his shoulders and drew him aside out of earshot. He talked to him for a moment and then Max nodded. ‘Ja, ja. I do that.’ He stumbled back to the truck, mumbling to himself, picked up a drum and hurled it into the back..

‘Well, what do you want here, Wetheral?’ I turned to find Peter Trevedian coming towards me.

‘McClellan offered to take me up to have a look at the dam,’ I said.

‘He did, did he?’ He called to McClellan and took him on one side. ‘It can’t do any harm,’ I heard McClellan say. They were both looking at me as they talked. Finally Trevedian said in a voice that was loud enough for me to hear: ‘Well, he’s not coming up in one of my trucks. If he wants to go up there, he can find his own damn way up.’ McClellan said some-thing, but Trevedian turned with a shrug and climbed into the cab of the truck.

McClellan hesitated, glancing at me. Then he came over. ‘I’m sorry, Wetheral,’ he said. ‘Trevedian says there isn’t room for all of us. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave you behind. There’s a lot of fuel to take up, you see,’ he added lamely.

‘You mean he refuses to let me go up?’

‘That’s about it, I guess.’

‘And you take orders from him?’

He glanced at me quickly, a hard, angry look in his eyes. Then he turned away without another word, his shoulders hunched. He and Creasy climbed into the cab. The engine roared and I stood there watching the truck as it slithered through the mud to the lake-shore road and turned up towards Thunder Creek. My eyes lifted to the peaks of Solomon’s Judgment, half-veiled in twin caps of cloud. The Kingdom seemed as far away as ever. As I turned angrily away I saw Max standing just where his brother had left him, his long arms hanging loose, his eyes watching the truck. His mouth was open and there was a queer air of suppressed excitement about him. Suddenly he turned with the quickness of a bear and went up into the shacks of Come Lucky at a shambling trot.

I went slowly back to the hotel. Mac was in the bar when I entered. ‘Are ye not going up to the hoist wi’ Jamie?’

‘Trevedian refused to take me,’ I said.

He growled something under his breath. ‘Well, I’ve a message for you. Two friends of yours are down at 150 Mile House. ‘Phoned up to find out whether you were still here.’

‘Two friends?’ I stared at him. ‘Who were they?’

‘Johnnie Carstairs and a fellow called. Jeff Hart. Said they’d be up here this afternoon to see you if the road wasn’t washed out.’

I turned away towards the window. Johnnie Carstairs and Jeff Hart. It was the best news I had had in a week. And then my eyes focused on a figure on horseback slithering down the track from the bunkhouse. He reached the lake-shore road, turned right and went into a long, easy canter. No need to ask myself who it was. The size of the man told me that. But he was no longer an ungainly lout. The horse was a big, raw-boned animal and the two of them merged to form a pattern of movement that was beautiful to watch.

‘Why is Max Trevedian so eager to go up to the Kingdom?’ I asked as I lost sight of him behind the shacks opposite.

Old Mac turned away. ‘Och, the man’s just simple. Ye dinna want to worry about him. He’s been crazy for a long time. All he understands is horses.’ And he shuffled out to the kitchen.

It was around tea-time that Johnnie and Jeff rolled into Come Lucky in a station wagon plastered with mud. I met them down at the bunkhouse and walked with them up to the hotel. And it wasn’t long before I knew what had brought them. Jeff had met Boy Bladen down at Edmonton. ‘He said something about that survey being phoney,’ Johnny said. ‘He said Trevedian fixed it and then sent his brother up to the Kingdom with the report.’ His eyes were hard and narrowed under their puffy lids. ‘He said you could give us the whole story. The road’s just open so we came over. I was kinda fond of the old man,’ he added.

I took them up to my room and gave them a drink and then I told them what had happened. When I had finished Johnnie was on his feet, pacing angrily up and down. ‘So they got at him through the survey. The bastards! I don’t care what they think of him here, Campbell was a fine old man.’

‘Did you know they hated him?’ Jeff asked.

‘Sure, sure. But I didn’t think they’d stoop to a trick as mean as this.’ He turned to Jeff. ‘You never went up to the Kingdom, did you? Then you wouldn’t understand how I feel about this. You had to see the man in the place he’d made his own. By God …’ His long, bony hands were clenched and his eyes were hot with anger in the pallid tan of his face. ‘When a man’s as lonely as Campbell was he talks. Night after night I’ve sat up with him … I know him as well as I know myself. He was a fine man — it was just that the luck ran against him, I guess.’ He suddenly turned to the window, staring through it towards the peaks of Solomon’s Judgment, looking towards the Kingdom.

He turned abruptly, facing me. ‘Where’s Trevedian?’

‘Up at the hoist,’ I said. And then, because I was shocked by the tenseness of his features, I added, ‘There’s nothing you can do about it, Johnnie.’

‘No?’ He suddenly smiled gently. ‘I’m madder’n hell. And when I’m that way the meanest crittur on four legs won’t get the better of Johnnie Carstairs — nor on two legs neither.’ He turned abruptly to the door. ‘Cm on. Let’s go an’ feed.’

Johnnie was one of those men whose values are real. I had thought of him as a quiet, rather withdrawn man. And yet the violence of his reaction wasn’t unexpected. His code was the code of Nature, physically hard but with no twists. The unnatural was something that struck deep at his roots. I watched him as he sat eating, quiet and easy and friendly, exchanging banter with old Mac. Only his eyes reflected the mood that was still boiling inside him.

McClellan and Creasy were late getting back and we had nearly finished our meal by the time they arrived. ‘Was it all right, Jamie?’ Mac asked.

‘Of course it was.’ For the first time since I had known him James McClellan was smiling. It gave a queer twist to his features for it was not their accustomed expression. ‘The motor was all right and so was the cable. There was a lot of ice on it up at the top, but underneath there were still traces of the grease packing I put on last year.’ He nodded perfunctorily to Johnnie as he sat down and got straight on with his meal. ‘What brings you here?’ he asked. ‘Bit early in the season for visitors, isn’t it?’

‘This is Jeff Hart, from Jasper,’ Johnnie said. ‘We came over to see friend Bruce here. Understand you wouldn’t take him up to the Kingdom this morning.’

‘Peter Trevedian runs the transport here,’ McClellan replied sullenly.

‘Sure, sure. Peter Trevedian runs you and the whole goldarned town from what I hear. Did you know about him sending his brother up to old Campbell with the report on that survey?’ Johnnie was rolling himself a cigarette. ‘Pity I didn’t know what had happened. I had a couple of newspaper boys along who would have been interested.’

Nobody said anything. The table had become suddenly silent. Anger underlay the mildness of Johnnie’s tone, and it showed in his eyes.

‘You’d better go and talk to Peter Trevedian,’ McClellan said awkwardly.

‘Sure I will, but at the moment I’m talking to you. Jeff here saw Boy Bladen in Edmonton the other day.’

‘Well?’

‘Boy seemed kinda mad about something. You wouldn’t know what that something was, would you now?’

‘No.’

Johnnie was lighting his cigarette, and his eyes were on McClellan through the smoke. ‘I thought you were Trevedian’s partner?’

‘Only on the hoist.’

‘I see. Not when it comes to substituting phoney survey figures and driving an old man to his death.’

McClellan pushed back his chair and got to his feet. ‘What the hell are you getting at?’

‘Nothing that you can’t figure out for yourself.’ Johnnie had turned away. ‘My advice to you, McClellan, is — watch your step,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘You’re riding in bad company, boy.’ He turned suddenly. ‘Now, where will I find Trevedian?’

McClellan didn’t answer. He just turned on his heel and walked out. Johnnie gave a slight shrug. ‘Know where Trevedian is, Mac?’ he asked.

I don’t think the old man heard the question. He seemed lost in thought. It was Creasy who answered. ‘You’ll find him down at the bunkhouse. If he’s not in his office, he’ll most likely be in his quarters round at the back.’

‘Okay, Thanks.’ Johnnie had turned to the door. Jeff and I got up and followed him. ‘You boys stay here,’ he said. ‘You can order me a beer. I’ll be thirstier’n hell by the time I get through with Trevedian.’

We sat and waited for him by the stove in the bar. He was gone the better part of an hour and by the time he got back men from Creasy’s construction gang were filtering in in ones and twos. They were a mixed bunch, their hands hard and calloused: Poles, Ukrainians, Italians, a negro and two Chinamen. They wore war surplus clothing relieved by bright scarves and gaily coloured shirts. They were the same crowd that I had seen in the bar each evening. ‘Well?’ Jeff asked as Johnnie slid into the vacant chair at our table.

‘Trevedian wasn’t there,’ he said and called to the Chinaman to bring more beer. ‘I went along and saw Jean instead.’ His eyes crinkled as he looked across at me. ‘Leastaways you got yourself one friend in Come Lucky. She’s a real dandy, that girl. If I were a few years younger…’ He smiled gently to himself and drank his beer.

‘If you were a few years younger, you’d still be a bachelor,’ Jeff said.

‘Sure, I know.’ He nodded slowly. ‘A girl’s all very well, but when it comes to living with her…’ He stopped suddenly, his gaze fixed over my shoulder.

I turned in my chair. Peter Trevedian was standing in the doorway, looking round the bar. He went over to Creasy and asked him a question. Creasy shook his head. ‘No. Ain’t seen him.’ Trevedian straightened up, facing the room. ‘Just a minute, boys.’ His solid, throaty voice silenced the murmur of conversation. ‘Anybody here seen my brother today?’

‘Wasn’t he loading a truck outside the bunkhouse when we left this morning?’ a voice said.

‘Sure he was… I seen him myself.’ There was a chorus of assent all round the room.

‘I know that,’ Trevedian answered. ‘We left him at the bunkhouse when we went up to the hoist. I want to know what’s happened to him since then.’

‘Maybe he went out for a walk and lost hisself.’ It was the driver of one of the bulldozers.

‘Max doesn’t lose himself,’ Trevedian said harshly.

‘Maybe he lose his memory, eh?’

There was a laugh and somebody added, ‘Per’aps he forgot where he is going.’

Trevedian’s eyes narrowed. ‘Another crack like that and I’ll send the man who makes it back where he came from. Just confine yourselves to statements of fact. Has anybody seen Max since this morning?’

‘Yeah. I seen him.’ It was one of the old men, the one they called Ed Schieffer. ‘I seen him right after you left. Saddled his horse an’ rode off. I seen him from the window of me shack.’

‘Where was he headed for?’

‘He followed you. Up Thunder Creek.’

Trevedian growled a curse and turned towards the door. It was then that Johnnie slid to his feet. I grabbed hold of him by the arm. But he threw me off. ‘Just a minute, Trevedian.’

Something in the quietness of his voice silenced the murmur of talk that had started in the bar. Trevedian turned, his hand on the door. ‘Why, if it isn’t Johnnie Carstairs.’ He crossed the room, his hand outstretched. ‘What brings you up here this early in the year?’ His tone was affable, but his head was sunk into his shoulders and his eyes were watchful under the shaggy eyebrows.

Johnnie was in the middle of the room now. He ignored the other’s hand. He was rocking gently on his high-heeled boots, anger building up inside him like steam in a boiler. ‘I came on account of what I heard from Bladen.’

‘Well?’ Trevedian had stopped. His hand had fallen to his side … ‘What did you hear from Bladen?’

‘Did you have to play a dirty trick like that on an old man who never did you-’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know damn well what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Stuart Campbell. You killed him.’ Johnnie’s voice vibrated through the silence of the room. ‘Why the hell did you have to do it like that, striking him through his-’

‘Oh, stop talking nonsense. I didn’t touch the old man and you know it.’ Trevedian’s eyes glanced round the room, seeing it silent and listening. ‘We’d better go down to my office. We can talk there.’ He turned towards the door.

‘There’s nothing private in what I got to say.’

Johnnie had not moved, but his hands had shifted to the leather belt round his waist. ‘What were you afraid of — that he’d talk to some newspaper feller, that he’d tell them what he knew about the dam?’

‘What do you mean?’ The other had swung round.

‘Campbell wasn’t a fool. Why do you think he let them go on with the construction of the dam at the start of the war without making any demand for compensation?’

‘He’d have put in a claim only Pearl Harbor brought the Yanks into the-’

‘It wasn’t Pearl Harbor. It was because he knew the dam wouldn’t stand the weight of the water.’

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking-’

‘Sure you do. I’m talking about the Marie Bell and her cargo of cement. I took a Vancouver shipowner up to the Kingdom in 1940 and he told us the whole thing.’

‘The construction of the dam is nothing to do with me — never has been. I just pack the materials in.’ Trevedian’s voice had risen slightly. He moved a step nearer. It was like seeing a bull about to charge a matador.

Johnnie laughed softly. It reacted on Trevedian like a slap in the face. His head came down and his fists clenched. A tingle of expectation ran through the room. ‘Think I don’t know what packing rates are?’ Johnnie said. ‘You didn’t make enough out of transporting the stuff to start a transport and construction company in Alaska.’

‘The Government was responsible for building the dam,’ Trevedian snapped. ‘They had inspectors.’

‘Sure they had inspectors. But how were they to know you were packing in cement that had lain for a year on the rocks of the Queen Charlotte Islands.’

‘That’s a lie.’ Trevedian’s face was livid. ‘All the cement I delivered was from an American company down in Seattle.’

‘Sure. They were shipping cement up to Alaska for military installations. One of their ships-’

Trevedian suddenly straightened up. He had got control of himself and his big laugh boomed through the room. ‘So I’m supposed to have killed Campbell because he knew I’d supplied dud cement for the dam.’ He slapped his thigh with amusement. ‘That’s damn funny. In the first place I didn’t kill Campbell, and every God-damned person in this room knows it. In the second place, that dud cement you talk about seems to be standing up to it pretty well since the dam’s still there and there isn’t a crack in the whole structure. You want to get your facts right before you come storming up here making a lot of wild accusations.’ And still laughing he turned on his heel and went out into the night, leaving Johnnie standing there in the middle of the floor.

Johnnie didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the closed door and for a moment I thought he was going to follow Trevedian. But instead he came back to our table and knocked back the rest of his beer. ‘What’s all this about the dam?’ Jeff asked.

‘To hell with the dam.’ Johnnie’s eyes were angry.

‘But if that bastard-’ He suddenly laughed. ‘Well, maybe Stuart was right. If he was willing to let things take their course, I guess I should be, too.’ He put down his glass. ‘I’m going down to have a talk with Jean.’ He turned then and went out of the room. And as the door closed behind him a buzz of conversation filled the smoke-laden atmosphere.

‘What did he mean — about the dam?’ I asked Jeff.

‘I don’t know. Never heard him mention it before.’

We discussed it for a while and then Jeff said, ‘You know, I’d like to see this dam there’s all the fuss about. Have you seen it?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I saw it the other day from Thunder Creek. What I want to do is get up there. I want to see the Kingdom.’

‘Thunder Creek’s where they’re building the road, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

He suddenly laughed. ‘Well, what are we waiting for? It’s a fine night and there’s a moon. Let’s go right on up there.’

I stared at him. ‘Now?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

But some instinct of caution made me hesitate. ‘It would be better to go up by daylight,’ I said. ‘Could we go up tomorrow? Then you’d get a good view of the dam and I might be able to persuade-’

‘Tomorrow’s no good,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow.’ He got to his feet. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ll go up there now.’

‘What about Johnnie?’

‘Johnnie?’ He laughed. ‘Johnnie wouldn’t come anyway. He just hates automobiles. We’ll leave a message for him. How far do we have to go up Thunder Creek?’

‘I think it’s about ten or eleven miles,’ I said.

‘And the road has only just been made. Hell! We can be there and back in an hour and a half. Come on. You don’t need a coat. We got some in the station wagon and it’s got a heater, too.’