I'm not even an Englishman. My father
was a Southerner. He settled in England after the war. He used to say
bitterly that he had been born the wrong side of the Atlantic. He died
soon after I left Harrow. With what money he left me I travelled all
over the world: shooting, fishing, and playing the fool.
"When I found myself stony-broke, I hunted up my Baltimore relations.
Some of them told me it was easier to marry money than to make it. My
name--I'll keep that to myself, if you don't mind--had a certain value
in the eyes of a rich girl I knew. At the same time there was another
girl----"
"Ah--Dinah," Ajax murmured.
"We'll call her Dinah. Dinah," his voice shook for a moment, "Dinah
cared for me, and I--I cared for her. But the girl with money had a
blaring, knock-me-down sort of beauty that appeals to men. Lots of
fellows were after her. Dinah had only me. Dinah was mine, if I chose
to claim her; the other had to be won. The competition, plus the coin,
ensnared me. I became engaged to the rich girl. I don't think I knew
then what I was doing to--Dinah. Within a fortnight I was struck down
with scarlet fever. The rich girl--she was game as a pebble--nursed
me. I became delirious. My nurse listened to my ravings for two days
and nights; then she went away. I came to my senses to find Dinah at
my bedside. The other wrote later, releasing me from the engagement
and bidding me marry the girl whose name had been on my lips a
thousand times. I laughed, and showed the letter to Dinah. A friend
promised me work. Dinah and I were going to live in a cottage, and be
happy for ever and ever....
"And then she--sickened!"
In the dreary silence that followed, neither Ajax nor I were able to
speak.
"And--and she died."
* * * * *
The poor fellow left us next day, and we never saw him again. It is to
be remembered that he never encouraged Hetty Upham, whose infatuation
was doubtless fanned by his indifference. She offered him bread, nay,
cakes and ale, but he took instead a stone, because cakes and ale had
lost their savour. We heard, afterwards, that he died on the Skagway
Pass in an attempt to reach the Klondyke too early in the spring. He
was seeking the gold of the Yukon placers; perhaps he found, beyond
the Great White Silence, his Dinah.
XI
A POISONED SPRING
In our bunk-house three of the boys were about to turn into bed. They
had worked hard all day, driving cattle into th
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