Alex Philip

“ Andy knew all the tricks of resuscitation: the upward sweep of hand on the midriff that brings the big nerve centre to life; the quick raising of the chest that brings air to the remote corners of the lungs. With a sudden choking in his throat, the little Australian realized that this boy was very dear to him. A prayer on his lips, his hands trembling, but sure and deft, he strove to restore the shattered nerves.
The colour came slowly to Donald’s cheeks and the haze cleared away as the cold water was showered upon him. He felt his strength returning. ”

“ Gabbling in an undertone they swam down the lake together.
The elusive hooting of male blue-grouse came from the tree-tops of the rocky slopes. A willow grouse moved from a clump of bushes with a haughty step to show her finery by ruffling the feathers of her neck and spreading her fan-like tail. There was a sharp “plop” as a rainbow trout curved gracefully on the surface to leave a widening circle of ripples on the calm water. All through this sun-washed valley was the soft murmur of a land at peace—at peace because unspoiled by man.
Donald drew a long breath. ”

“ Connie, clad in faded overalls and cotton shirt, stood on the edge of the “nest.” Her breast was heaving, her loosened golden hair flying in the wind. The softness in her blue eyes made Donald gasp, and his heart thumped as though it were in his throat.
“Connie!” he cried huskily, “I love you, dear! Don’t you care for me even a little?”
She sprang lightly to the ground and came toward him, her arms outstretched. Tears of joy coursed down her cheeks. “Oh, Donald, Donald, you big stupid!” she sobbed, “I have been waiting here for you every day. I—I have loved you always.” ”

“ Love—feeling—emotion, or, it might be, passion?
Laughter and voices came from the trail above. Douglas with several of the visiting party emerged into the white light of the moon. Douglas called his sister’s name and Janet and Donald moved up the hill to join them.
After the sound of their footsteps died in the distance there was a rustle in the bushes near the path as a slender, childish figure, clad in blue overalls and cotton shirt, glided into the soft moonlight. She stood leaning forward with the grace of some wild thing, her heavy hair flowing about her shoulders. ”

“ As he heard the crashing of Connie’s slender body as she tore down the hill, a softness crept into his eyes. With a speed incredible in one with his pitiful deformity, he ran in a series of bounding steps to the edge of the bluff. The noise of tumbling waters drowned the sound of his approach. Just as Hand raised his axe for the final blow, the muscular arms of the Breed were flung about him. Emitting a startled curse, the big man turned and with a twist of his powerful shoulders flung his dusky assailant to the ground. As he rose Hand swung viciously at him with the axe. ”

“ Donald decided to take the plunge. He sat down on the bench beside Connie’s father and related the scene he had witnessed that morning—of Connie’s preening before the mirror with the magazine page pinned to the logs; of the struggle with her hair; of the flour sack, and of the piteous sobbing of the heart-broken child.
Wainwright’s face flushed painfully. There was a look of poignant suffering in his grave eyes. Of all the races in the world, the English—especially of the better class—fight most stoically to hide their distress. ”

“ Connie’s face bore traces of weariness and sleeplessness. For three nights she had stolen softly away from her cabin on the hillside to lie hidden outside that of Donald. By night she had kept up a weary vigil, ever on the alert; in the forenoon she had lain behind a stump on the hill with eyes on Donald’s tall figure whenever he came in sight, her rifle ready for instant action. Hand did not know that death had nearly claimed him when he stepped forward to urge his men to charge. At that crucial moment Connie’s rifle was aimed at his heart. ”

“ Douglas waved a handkerchief, and Donald caught a flutter of white from the dizzy promontory. His mind was filled with conjectures. Why was she there? Had she still a kindly feeling for him despite last night’s exposure?
Janet could not herself have explained her reason for being there. She was up early, stole quietly to the stable, saddled her horse and rode to the Park. Riding steadily all the morning, she had battled with herself, had summoned all her courage to resist the spell this strange young man held over her, only to find that her will was impotent. ”

“ Mists covered the lake, and in an open spot near the mouth of the creek a flock of ducks disported themselves happily. The sun grew higher with every dawn, gaining strength each day until its warming energy spread the beauty of colour and fragrance over all.
One afternoon, when the air pulsated with the song of birds, and newly-opened buds burdened the atmosphere with perfume, Donald walked up the hill to Wainwright’s cabin. ”

“ Donald stopped abruptly in his flight and shot a lightning left across to his pursuer’s jaw. The champion saw it coming, but too late to block it. He threw his body into reverse, robbing the blow of a great deal of its force; yet enough was left to send him reeling back to the ropes, his head whirling and his knees wobbly. With a roar the spectators came to their feet as one man. The gong saved Garrieau.
The crowd gave Donald a deafening ovation as he walked to his corner. He looked for his friends and saw Douglas and Gillis locked in an embrace and dancing madly in the narrow aisle. ”

“ The thick lips were swollen and cracked, the eyes discoloured and puffed, and the broken teeth bared in a snarl as he saw Donald lying by the stream. Every hour since the fight Hand’s hatred for Donald had grown blacker. He would show him that he, Ole Hand, deserved his reputation as a fighter. He would hold this crippled man helpless while he showered blows on his unprotected face, make him cry out for mercy on bended knees; perhaps kill him. ”

“ The trapper’s dugout shot swiftly across the lake.
Connie lay reading in the shade of her cabin. She came to her feet at the whistle’s first call for help. A moment later, seated astride her cayuse, she was galloping down the hill.
Every man, regardless of position, answers the call to fight fire. When a forest fire is raging the forest ranger is an absolute sovereign. He can call the lawyer from his desk or the labourer from the ditch, but seldom does he need to exercise this power, as every good citizen is willing to help stay the deadly scourge. ”

“ Donald’s face turned a sickly grey, and as the well-nigh sightless foreigner staggered weakly toward him, he with a strength born of agony whipped his right to his opponent’s sagging jaw. The big man faltered, sank slowly to hands and knees, then stretched at full length, his face pressing the soil, quivered and lay still. No sound came from the crowd. The thing had been too stupendous for immediate shouting or applause. Donald stood for an instant swaying uncertainly, then turned to stumble toward his cabin.
Blackie sprang to the top of a stump and swung his hat in the air. ”

“ Andy had noticed Donald’s increasing interest in Connie and had wisely refrained from accompanying him on his nightly visits. On this particular night Donald came into the kitchen whistling a lively air, his face wreathed in smiles. He slapped Andy heartily on the back as he asked him for a lunch. His gaiety was so pronounced that Andy studied him closely.
“You look ’appy, Donnie,” he remarked.
“I am, Andy; I’m the happiest man in the world.” ”

“ As daylight abandoned the forest and twilight made eerie shadows on the dusky trail, they swung to an open space on the banks of the roaring Cheakamus River, and made camp for the night.
At daybreak they began the upward climb, and by noon felt the buoyancy of the air in the higher altitude. They crossed rushing streams and skirted the shores of small lakes on whose waters rested flocks of ducks in gregarious raft-like formations. The cayuses with their enormous packs showed signs of fatigue, and Gillis called frequent halts as the trail grew gradually steeper. ”

“ The pronunciation, clear and perfect, held a trace of English accent that was pleasing to Donald’s ears. One could not look upon Connie without thinking of flowers, birds and sunshine. Constant exercise had turned her muscles into cords of steel; mountain air and sunshine had darkened her face and hands to a deep bronze and brought to her cheeks a warm glow that showed richly through the coat of tan. ”

“ Fresh from his exercises and shower, his cheeks red, his dark eyes shining with the clear glow of health, his step springy and free, Donald was a picture of rugged health and strength. But for all this apparent outward brightness, inwardly he felt rebellious. Douglas’s invitation had brought a great longing for the comforts of his past life. Why should he assume the rôle of a pugilist to eke out an existence? Why wear shabby clothes and even know the pangs of hunger? ”

“ The willow, vine maple, birch and alder along the creeks and lake-shore held touches of autumnal colouring; while on the hills the yellowed leaves of the cottonwood were brilliant in their setting of sober dark green conifers.
A gaudy red were the vine maples, but there was a leafy beauty greater than theirs. The flowering dogwood blazed from every nook and cranny. The ripening of the dogwood gives to its leaves a flame that burns with a fierce glow; a glow that further ripening deepens until its crimson flush becomes the loveliest hue of the British Columbia woods. ”

“ Gillis reached Donald’s side as he tottered into the cabin and caught him in his arms as he collapsed into unconsciousness. The big man picked him up tenderly and placed him on the bed.
“Get some ’ot water and towels and telephone for Dr. Paul,” commanded Andy tersely.
As Gillis left to fill Andy’s commission, Connie fell on her knees by the bedside and wept with wild and passionate violence. “Oh, Donald! Donald!” she sobbed, “you fought for me. I love you! I love you! Oh, Andy,” turning her streaming eyes to the little man, “he won’t die, will he? Tell me he won’t die!” ”

“ There came a sudden patter of raindrops that drummed on the roof of the cabin. Wilkinson stood erect with arms stretched wide. “Rain!” he cried. “The merciful rain! Thank heaven!” He stood with face upturned for an interval, enjoying the pelting downpour, then turned to look in the cabin door, a deep and brooding sadness in his bloodshot eyes.
“Donald,” he said gently, “the newspaper account of this fire will mention the fact that ‘a logger was killed.’ A logger!—yes—men like Blackie are the backbone of this country, the salt of the earth. Will people ever learn?” ”

“ Dear little Connie!
Donald walked the floor until midnight. Once in bed, he tossed restlessly until the early morning, then fell into a fitful sleep in which he dreamed of a small, winsome face and big blue eyes surrounded by a wealth of golden hair.
September with its days of mellow sunshine passed. October brought heavy hoar frosts that covered the earth with a robe of diamonds, and formed ice in the small pools and marshes. Winter comes early in the mountains. ”

“ Connie sat down near him, the birds all about her.
“ ’Ow do you get them so tame, Connie?”
“They know that I love them,” she replied simply.
“I can’t get anything but the camp-robbers to come near me,” said Andy.
“It takes time and patience, Andy. As soon as the birds are assured that you mean them no harm, they are eager to be your friends. You’ll remember, Dad told you that without plants man could not live,” she went on. “It is equally true that if all the birds should perish, man would soon follow. And, still more wonderful, if we had no insects man could not survive.” ”

“ The heavy mountain dews could not penetrate the close standing timber, and the carpet of needles and moss became dry as tinder. A pall of smoke, from fires raging on the Coast, hung over lake and mountain.
For Wilkinson and his men these were anxious days. They covered the section between the mill and Squamish twice a day; scanning the hillsides and valleys, ever watchful, ever on the alert; pleading and exhorting the settlers and loggers to greater vigilance, and all the while praying fervently for rain. ”

“ Men of the underworld sat side by side with men that make and administer our laws. There was a sprinkling of Japs, Chinamen and negroes. The turbanned Hindu made bright splotches of colour here and there in the vast sea of faces. Of class distinction there was none; all welded as one in the love of the boxing game.
The preliminaries were over, and the vast crowd had settled in their seats. Suddenly there was a stir, a craning of necks. Down the aisle on the west side of the arena came Donald, followed by Andy and the two seconds, the latter carrying buckets, sponges, towels and bottles. ”

“ His coat of buckskin was open at the throat to expose a hairy chest. His mane-like mass of wiry hair stood straight out and shook with every movement of his body. A veritable wild man of the woods he looked as he grasped the cup and held it up to his admiring gaze.
The storm had reached the height of its fury. The wind roared and moaned like a famished wild thing denied its kill. Occasionally a venturesome gust would find its way down the chimney to send thin puffs of smoke to linger in the air and fill the cabin with the sweet perfume of the burning alder. ”

“ Hand could not keep away from the punishing left hand of his lighter opponent. Men not trained in the science of boxing have no punishing power in their left hand, but depend solely on their right. Such was the case with Hand. His style did not vary for a moment. With head lowered between his powerful shoulders, he would bore in, swinging wildly in the hope of landing a lucky punch, or striving to get a hold on his adversary. Donald’s hand kept beating a tattoo on his rock-like jaw, but still Hand came forward, slowly and relentlessly as a steam-roller. ”

“ Andy’s florid face took on a deeper magenta, and he blinked hard to hide certain signs of emotion. He afterwards admitted to Donald that he was no “sweet sixteen,” and that it was the first time that he had ever been kissed in his “bloomin’ ” life.
Connie wet her handkerchief in the cold water of the creek and bathed his face with tender care.
She showed Donald and Gillis the nest with the motherless birds, doomed to die a premature death by this act of wanton cruelty, and pointed to the tiny bird on the ground, for whose untimely end Andy had taken a well deserved and summary vengeance. ”