Free Campbell's Kingdom by Hammond Innes Page A

to McClellan who asked me if he could have the loan of it.
    â€˜You can keep it, if you like,’ I said. ‘But what’s the trouble?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ he answered quickly. ‘Nothing at all. We just thought the place was sold, that’s all.’ And he hurried out of the room, followed by Creasy.
    I turned and stared after them in astonishment. ‘What was all that about?’ I asked the old man. He was still sitting there thumbing tobacco into his pipe.
    He didn’t say anything for a moment and as he lit his pipe he stared at me over the flame of the match. ‘So you’re Campbell’s heir and the legal owner of the Kingdom,’ he murmured. ‘What brought ye all the way out from the Old Country?’
    â€˜I wanted to see the place.’
    â€˜You’ll no be as daft as the old man, surely?’
    â€˜How do you mean?’
    â€˜Campbell had oil fever the way some folk have malaria. If he’d struck lucky he might have been a great figure. As it was . . .’ He shrugged his shoulders.
    â€˜Did you know him well?’ I asked.
    â€˜Aye, about as well as any man in this town. But he wasna a very easy man to get to know. A solitary sort of a crittur wi’ a quick temper. He spoke verra fast and violent and he’d a persuasive tongue, damn him.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘The river of oil was just a dream, I guess.’ He looked across at me and then asked abruptly, ‘What would ye be planning to do with the Kingdom now you’ve come out here?’
    â€˜I thought I might live up there,’ I said.
    â€˜Live up there!’
    â€˜My grandfather lived there,’ I reminded him.
    â€˜Aye. For night on twenty years old Campbell lived there.’ His voice was bitter and he spat out a piece of tobacco. ‘Dinna be a fool, laddie,’ he said. ‘The Kingdom’s no place for ye. And if it’s oil you’re looking for ye won’t find it as many of us in this town have learned to our cost. There’s no oil in these mountains. Bladen’s survey proved that once and for all. The place isn’t worth two nickels. Och, there’s a bit of ranching to be done up there. The alfalfa’s good and if the chinook blows there’s little need for hauling feed. But it doesna always blow.’ He got to his feet and came and stood over me. ‘This is no your sort of country,’ he said, reaching out a bony hand and gripping my shoulder. ‘It’s a hard country, and it doesna take easily to strangers.’
    I stared at him. ‘It’s supposed to be very lovely in summer,’ I murmured. ‘A lot of visitors—’
    â€˜Oh, aye, the visitors. But ye’re no a visitor. Ye’re Campbell’s heir.’ He stared down at me. ‘Take my advice; sell out and gang home where you belong.’
    His hard, grey eyes were staring down at me unwinkingly. It was as though his words were meant as a warning. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I muttered, feeling strangely ill-at-ease under his scrutiny.
    â€˜Aye, ye think about it.’ He hesitated, as though about to say something further. But he shook his head. His lids drooped down over his eyes and he turned away with a little shrug and shuffled out of the room.
    I leaned back slackly in my chair. Everything was so different from what I had expected—the place, the people, the way they regarded my grandfather. I felt suddenly very tired. I was at the end of my journey now and I went to bed wondering what tomorrow would bring.
    When I got down to breakfast next morning there was only a single place laid at the long deal table. It was eight-thirty, but already the others had finished. The Chinaman served me bacon and eggs and coffee and after I had fed I got my coat and went out to have a look at Come Lucky. The snow had stopped. It was a grey, windless morning. The place seemed utterly deserted. I