The Major [77]
the hillside beyond which was the coal mine. In the noise and bustle of the work the motor came to a stop unobserved behind a long wooden structure which Nora diagnosed as the "grub shack."
"In your English speech, Mr. Romayne, the dining room of the camp. He is certainly a hustler," exclaimed Nora, gazing upon the scene before them.
"Who?" inquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.
"Ernest Switzer," said Nora, unable to keep the grudge out of her voice. "It is only a week since I was up here and during that time he has actually made this village, the streets, the sidewalks--and if that is not actually a system of water pipes."
"Some hustler, as you say, Miss Nora, eh, what?" said Tom.
"Wonderful," replied Nora; "he is wonderful."
Jack glanced at the girl beside him. It seemed to him that it needed no mind-reader to interpret the look of pride, yes and of love, in the wonderful blue-grey eyes. Sick as from a heavy blow he turned away from her; the flicker of hope that his brother-in- law's words had kindled in his heart died out and left him cold. He was too late; why try to deceive himself any longer? The only thing to do was to pull out and leave this place where every day brought him intolerable pain. But today he would get all he could, to-day he would love her and win such poor scraps as he could from her eyes, her smiles, her words.
"Glorious view that," he said, touching her arm and sweeping his hand toward the mountains.
She started at his touch, a faint colour coming into her face. "How wonderful!" she breathed. "I love them. They bring me my best thoughts."
Before he could reply there came from behind the grub shack a torrent of abusive speech florid with profane language and other adornment and in a voice thick with rage.
"That's him," said Nora. "Some one is getting it." The satisfaction in her voice and look were in sharp contrast to the look of dismay and shame that covered the burning face of her sister. From English the voice passed into German, apparently no less vigorous or threatening. "That's better," said Nora with a wicked glance at Romayne. "You see he is talking to some one of his own people. They understand that. There are a lot of Germans from the Settlement, Freiberg, you know."
As she spoke Switzer emerged from behind the shack, driving before him a cringing creature evidently in abject terror of him. "Get back to your gang and carry out your orders, or you will get your time." He caught sight of the car and stopped abruptly, and, waving his hand imperiously to the workman, strode up to the party, followed by a mild-looking man in spectacles.
"Came to see how you are getting on, Switzer, eh, what?" said Tom.
"Getting on," he replied in a loud voice, raising his hat in salutation. "How can one get on with a lot of stupid fools who cannot carry out instructions and dare to substitute their own ideas for commands. They need discipline. If I had my way they would get it, too. But in this country there is no such thing as discipline." He made no attempt to apologise for his outrageous outburst, was probably conscious of no need of apology.
"This is your foreman, I think?" said Nora, who alone of the party seemed to be able to deal with the situation.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Steinberg," said Switzer, presenting the spectacled man.
"You are too busy to show us anything this afternoon?" said Nora sweetly.
"Yes, much too busy," said Switzer, gruffly. "I have no time for anything but work these days."
"You cannot come along for a little shoot?" she said, innocently. Nora was evidently enjoying herself.
"Shoot!" cried Switzer in a kind of contemptuous fury. "Shoot, with these dogs, these cattle, tramping around here when they need some one every minute to drive them. Shoot! No, no. I am not a gentleman of leisure."
The distress upon Kathleen's face was painfully apparent. Jack was in no hurry to bring relief. Like Nora he was enjoying himself as well. It was Tom who brought about the diversion.
"Well, we must go on, Switzer. Coming over
"In your English speech, Mr. Romayne, the dining room of the camp. He is certainly a hustler," exclaimed Nora, gazing upon the scene before them.
"Who?" inquired Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.
"Ernest Switzer," said Nora, unable to keep the grudge out of her voice. "It is only a week since I was up here and during that time he has actually made this village, the streets, the sidewalks--and if that is not actually a system of water pipes."
"Some hustler, as you say, Miss Nora, eh, what?" said Tom.
"Wonderful," replied Nora; "he is wonderful."
Jack glanced at the girl beside him. It seemed to him that it needed no mind-reader to interpret the look of pride, yes and of love, in the wonderful blue-grey eyes. Sick as from a heavy blow he turned away from her; the flicker of hope that his brother-in- law's words had kindled in his heart died out and left him cold. He was too late; why try to deceive himself any longer? The only thing to do was to pull out and leave this place where every day brought him intolerable pain. But today he would get all he could, to-day he would love her and win such poor scraps as he could from her eyes, her smiles, her words.
"Glorious view that," he said, touching her arm and sweeping his hand toward the mountains.
She started at his touch, a faint colour coming into her face. "How wonderful!" she breathed. "I love them. They bring me my best thoughts."
Before he could reply there came from behind the grub shack a torrent of abusive speech florid with profane language and other adornment and in a voice thick with rage.
"That's him," said Nora. "Some one is getting it." The satisfaction in her voice and look were in sharp contrast to the look of dismay and shame that covered the burning face of her sister. From English the voice passed into German, apparently no less vigorous or threatening. "That's better," said Nora with a wicked glance at Romayne. "You see he is talking to some one of his own people. They understand that. There are a lot of Germans from the Settlement, Freiberg, you know."
As she spoke Switzer emerged from behind the shack, driving before him a cringing creature evidently in abject terror of him. "Get back to your gang and carry out your orders, or you will get your time." He caught sight of the car and stopped abruptly, and, waving his hand imperiously to the workman, strode up to the party, followed by a mild-looking man in spectacles.
"Came to see how you are getting on, Switzer, eh, what?" said Tom.
"Getting on," he replied in a loud voice, raising his hat in salutation. "How can one get on with a lot of stupid fools who cannot carry out instructions and dare to substitute their own ideas for commands. They need discipline. If I had my way they would get it, too. But in this country there is no such thing as discipline." He made no attempt to apologise for his outrageous outburst, was probably conscious of no need of apology.
"This is your foreman, I think?" said Nora, who alone of the party seemed to be able to deal with the situation.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Steinberg," said Switzer, presenting the spectacled man.
"You are too busy to show us anything this afternoon?" said Nora sweetly.
"Yes, much too busy," said Switzer, gruffly. "I have no time for anything but work these days."
"You cannot come along for a little shoot?" she said, innocently. Nora was evidently enjoying herself.
"Shoot!" cried Switzer in a kind of contemptuous fury. "Shoot, with these dogs, these cattle, tramping around here when they need some one every minute to drive them. Shoot! No, no. I am not a gentleman of leisure."
The distress upon Kathleen's face was painfully apparent. Jack was in no hurry to bring relief. Like Nora he was enjoying himself as well. It was Tom who brought about the diversion.
"Well, we must go on, Switzer. Coming over