“That’s done with!  It’s remarkable, but I don’t feel as sore as I did.  Perhaps the effort of resisting was a counter-irritant.  However, we have said enough about it.  Tell me how you got on with the job that kept you late.”

CHAPTER XXII

FESTING’S NEW PARTNER

Charnock felt better next morning and luck favored him.  An accident to the gravel train disorganized the work, and he and some others were dismissed for the afternoon.  He went to Festing’s shack, and making himself comfortable by the fire, opened a tattered book and enjoyed several hours of luxurious idleness.  After his exertions in the rain and mud, it was delightful to bask in warmth and comfort and rest his aching limbs.  The next day was Sunday and he lounged about the shack, sometimes reading and sometimes bantering his comrade.  The pain had gone and he felt cheerful.

When he returned to work on Monday he was sent with a bag of bolts to the bridge, and presently reached a spot where the heavy rain had washed away the track.  For about a dozen yards the terrace cut in the hillside had slipped down, leaving a narrow shelf against the bank.  The shelf broke off near the middle, where a gully had opened in the hill.  Water flowed through the gap, and in order to get across one must pick a way carefully over the steep, wet slope.  This, however, would save a toilsome climb, and Charnock, jerking the bag higher on his shoulders, went on.

A few minutes later he saw Wilkinson come round a corner.  One of them would have to go back to let the other pass, and it would be difficult to turn if they met at the gully.  Charnock did not mean to give way, and with his arms crooked to support his load, he required some room.  There was no way up the torn bank, and on the other side a nearly perpendicular slope of wet soil and gravel ran down to the river.  In places, the surface was broken by small, half-buried firs.

When both were near the gully Wilkinson stopped, and Charnock, whose head was bent, thought he had not known who he was.  He certainly looked surprised, and Charnock was conscious of rather grim amusement as he guessed the reason.  Wilkinson had, no doubt, not expected him to be capable of carrying a heavy bag along the dangerous ledge.

“Hallo!” he said.  “The boys told me you were crippled by your pains.”

“I was.  The pain’s gone.”

“Rest’s a good cure,” said Wilkinson.  “You got laid off on Saturday, didn’t you?”

The curiosity that had made Charnock stop was satisfied.  Since Wilkinson’s work kept him at some distance from the gravel gang, it looked as if he had made inquiries about Charnock, and had probably been surprised to learn he had started with the others.  There was, however, no use in taxing the fellow with trying to make him drunk, because he would deny that he knew anything about the whisky or declare that he had sent it with a friendly object.