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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11328-0.txt b/11328-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5dda944 --- /dev/null +++ b/11328-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9490 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11328 *** + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +BY + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of KAZAN, Etc. + +Illustrated by + +FRANK B. HOFFMAN + + +1915 + +TO MY WIFE + +AND + +OUR COMRADES OF THE TRAIL + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +"'Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald.'" + +A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "'Another o' them Dotty Dimples +come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a little, an' +so I sent her to Bill's place'" + +"A crowd was gathering.... A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering +silk was standing beside a huge brown bear" + +"'The tunnel is closed,' she whispered.... 'That means we have just +forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another.'" + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was all new--most of it singularly dramatic and even appalling to the +woman who sat with the pearl-gray veil drawn closely about her face. For +eighteen hours she had been a keenly attentive, wide-eyed, and partly +frightened bit of humanity in this onrush of "the horde." She had heard a +voice behind her speak of it as "the horde"--a deep, thick, gruff voice +which she knew without looking had filtered its way through a beard. She +agreed with the voice. It was the Horde--that horde which has always beaten +the trails ahead for civilization and made of its own flesh and blood the +foundation of nations. For months it had been pouring steadily into the +mountains--always in and never out, a laughing, shouting, singing, +blaspheming Horde, every ounce of it toughened sinew and red brawn, except +the Straying Angels. One of these sat opposite her, a dark-eyed girl with +over-red lips and hollowed cheeks, and she heard the bearded man say +something to his companions about "dizzy dolls" and "the little angel in +the other seat." This same voice, gruffened in its beard, had told her that +ten thousand of the Horde had gone up ahead of them. Then it whispered +something that made her hands suddenly tighten and a hot flush sweep +through her. She lifted her veil and rose slowly from her seat, as if to +rearrange her dress. Casually she looked straight into the faces of the +bearded man and his companion in the seat behind. They stared. After that +she heard nothing more of the Straying Angels, but only a wildly mysterious +confabulation about "rock hogs," and "coyotes" that blew up whole +mountains, and a hundred and one things about the "rail end." She learned +that it was taking five hundred steers a week to feed the Horde that lay +along the Grand Trunk Pacific between Hogan's Camp and the sea, and that +there were two thousand souls at Tête Jaune Cache, which until a few months +before had slumbered in a century-old quiet broken only by the Indian and +his trade. Then the train stopped in its twisting trail, and the bearded +man and his companion left the car. As they passed her they glanced down. +Again the veil was drawn close. A shimmering tress of hair had escaped its +bondage; that was all they saw. + +[Illustration: "Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, +that's taking me north, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling +MacDonald."] + +The veiled woman drew a deeper breath when they were gone. She saw that +most of the others were getting off. In her end of the car the +hollow-cheeked girl and she were alone. Even in their aloneness these two +women had not dared to speak until now. The one raised her veil again, and +their eyes met across the aisle. For a moment the big, dark, sick-looking +eyes of the "angel" stared. Like the bearded man and his companion, she, +too, understood, and an embarrassed flush added to the colour of the rouge +on her cheeks. The eyes that looked across at her were blue--deep, quiet, +beautiful. The lifted veil had disclosed to her a face that she could not +associate with the Horde. The lips smiled at her--the wonderful eyes +softened with a look of understanding, and then the veil was lowered again. +The flush in the girl's cheek died out, and she smiled back. + +"You are going to Tête Jaune?" she asked. + +"Yes. May I sit with you for a few minutes? I want to ask questions--so +many!" + +The hollow-cheeked girl made room for her at her side. + +"You are new?" + +"Quite new--to this." + +The words, and the manner in which they were spoken, made the other glance +quickly at her companion. + +"It is a strange place to go--Tête Jaune," she said. "It is a terrible +place for a woman." + +"And yet you are going?" + +"I have friends there. Have you?" + +"No." + +The girl stared at her in amazement. Her voice and her eyes were bolder +now. + +"And without friends you are going--_there?_" she cried. "You have no +husband--no brother----" + +"What place is this?" interrupted the other, raising her veil so that she +could look steadily into the other's face. "Would you mind telling me?" + +"It is Miette," replied the girl, the flush reddening her cheeks again. +"There's one of the big camps of the railroad builders down on the Flats. +You can see it through the window. That river is the Athabasca." + +"Will the train stop here very long?" + +The Little Angel shrugged her thin shoulders despairingly. + +"Long enough to get me into The Cache mighty late to-night," she +complained. "We won't move for two hours." + +"I'd be so glad if you could tell me where I can go for a bath and +something to eat. I'm not very hungry--but I'm terribly dusty. I want to +change some clothes, too. Is there a hotel here?" + +Her companion found the question very funny. She had a giggling fit before +she answered. + +"You're sure new," she explained. "We don't have hotels up here. We have +bed-houses, chuck-tents, and bunk-shacks. You ask for Bill's Shack down +there on the Flats. It's pretty good. They'll give you a room, plenty of +water, and a looking-glass--an' charge you a dollar. I'd go with you, but +I'm expecting a friend a little later, and if I move I may lose him. +Anybody will tell you where Bill's place is. It's a red an' white striped +tent--and it's respectable." + +The stranger girl thanked her, and turned for her bag. As she left the car, +the Little Angel's eyes followed her with a malicious gleam that gave them +the strange glow of candles in a sepulchral cavern. The colours which she +unfurled to all seeking eyes were not secret, and yet she was filled with +an inward antagonism that this stranger with the wonderful blue eyes had +dared to see them and recognize them. She stared after the retreating +form--a tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure that filled her with envy and +a dull sort of hatred. She did not hear a step behind her. A hand fell +familiarly on her shoulder, and a coarse voice laughed something in her ear +that made her jump up with an artificial little shriek of pleasure. The man +nodded toward the end of the now empty car. + +"Who's your new friend?" he asked. + +"She's no friend of mine," snapped the girl. "She's another one of them +Dolly Dimples come out to save the world. She's that innocent she wonders +why Tête Jaune ain't a nice place for ladies without escort. I thought I'd +help eggicate her a little an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, +I told her it was respectable!" + +She doubled over the seat in a fit of merriment, and her companion seized +the opportunity to look out of the window. + +The tall, blue-eyed stranger had paused for a moment on the last step of +the car to pin up her veil, fully revealing her face. Then she stepped +lightly to the ground, and found herself facing the sunlight and the +mountains. She drew a slow, deep breath between her parted lips, and turned +wonderingly, for a moment forgetful. It was the first time she had left the +train since entering the mountains, and she understood now why some one in +the coach had spoken of the Miette Plain as Sunshine Pool. Where-ever she +looked the mountains fronted her, with their splendid green slopes reaching +up to their bald caps of gray shale and reddish rock or gleaming summits of +snow. Into this "pool"--this pocket in the mountains--the sun descended in +a wonderful flood. It stirred her blood like a tonic. She breathed more +quickly; a soft glow coloured her cheeks; her eyes grew more deeply violet +as they caught the reflection of the blue sky. A gentle wind fretted the +loose tendrils of brown hair about her face. And the bearded man, staring +through the car window, saw her thus, and for an hour after that the +hollow-cheeked girl wondered at the strange change in him. + +The train had stopped at the edge of the big fill overlooking the Flats. It +was a heavy train, and a train that was helping to make history--a +combination of freight, passenger, and "cattle." It had averaged eight +miles an hour on its climb toward Yellowhead Pass and the end of steel. The +"cattle" had already surged from their stifling and foul-smelling cars in a +noisy inundation of curiously mixed humanity. They were of a dozen +different nationalities, and as the girl looked at them it was not with +revulsion or scorn but with a sudden quickening of heartbeat and a little +laugh that had in it something both of wonder and of pride. This was the +Horde, that crude, monstrous thing of primitive strength and passions that +was overturning mountains in its fight to link the new Grand Trunk Pacific +with the seaport on the Pacific. In that Horde, gathered in little groups, +shifting, sweeping slowly toward her and past her, she saw something as +omnipotent as the mountains themselves. They could not know defeat. She +sensed it without ever having seen them before. For her the Horde now had a +heart and a soul. These were the builders of empire--the man-beasts who +made it possible for Civilization to creep warily and without peril into +new places and new worlds. With a curious shock she thought of the +half-dozen lonely little wooden crosses she had seen through the car window +at odd places along the line of rail. + +And now she sought her way toward the Flats. To do this she had to climb +over a track that was waiting for ballast. A car shunted past her, and on +its side she saw the big, warning red placards--Dynamite. That one word +seemed to breathe to her the spirit of the wonderful energy that was +expending itself all about her. From farther on in the mountains came the +deep, sullen detonations of the "little black giant" that had been rumbling +past her in the car. It came again and again, like the thunderous voice of +the mountains themselves calling out in protest and defiance. And each time +she felt a curious thrill under her feet and the palpitant touch of +something that was like a gentle breath in her ears. She found another +track on her way, and other cars slipped past her crunchingly. Beyond this +second track she came to a beaten road that led down into the Flats, and +she began to descend. + +[Illustration: A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!"] + +Tents shone through the trees on the bottom. The rattle of the cars grew +more distant, and she heard the hum and laughter of voices and the jargon +of a phonograph. At the bottom of the slope she stepped aside to allow a +team and wagon to pass. The wagon was loaded with boxes that rattled and +crashed about as the wheels bumped over stones and roots. The driver of the +team did not look at her. He was holding back with his whole weight; his +eyes bulged a little; he was sweating, in his face was a comedy of +expression that made the girl smile in spite of herself. Then she saw one +of the bobbing boxes and the smile froze into a look of horror. On it was +painted that ominous word--DYNAMITE! + +Two men were coming behind her. + +"Six horses, a wagon an' old Fritz--blown to hell an' not a splinter left +to tell the story," one of them was saying. "I was there three minutes +after the explosion and there wasn't even a ravelling or a horsehair left. +This dynamite's a dam' funny thing. I wouldn't be a rock-hog for a +million!" + +"I'd rather be a rock-hog than Joe--drivin' down this hill a dozen times a +day," replied the other. + +The girl had paused again, and the two men stared at her as they were about +to pass. The explosion of Joe's dynamite could not have startled them more +than the beauty of the face that was turned to them in a quietly appealing +inquiry. + +"I am looking for a place called--Bill's Shack," she said, speaking the +Little Sister's words hesitatingly. "Can you direct me to it, please?" + +The younger of the two men looked at his companion without speaking. The +other, old enough to regard feminine beauty as a trap and an illusion, +turned aside to empty his mouth of a quid of tobacco, bent over, and +pointed under the trees. + +"Can't miss it--third tent-house on your right, with canvas striped like a +barber-pole. That phonnygraff you hear is at Bill's." + +"Thank you." + +She went on. + +Behind her, the two men stood where she had left them. They did not move. +The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe. + +"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't +believe----" + +"Shucks!" interjected the other. + +"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna--with the +heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful. +You call me a fool if you want to--I'm goin' on to Bill's!" + +He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly the +older man was at his side, clutching his arm. + +"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big +enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the +wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right +place." + +At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were not +unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked calmly and +undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There were half a dozen +lounging there, smoking and listening to the phonograph, which some one now +stopped that they might hear every word that was spoken. The girl's head +was high. She was beginning to understand that it would have been less +embarrassing to have gone hungry and dusty. But she had come this far, and +she was determined to get what she wanted--if it was to be had. The colour +shone a little more vividly through the pure whiteness of her skin as she +faced Bill, leaning over his little counter. In him she recognized the +Brute. It was blazoned in his face, in the hungry, seeking look of his +eyes--in the heavy pouches and thick crinkles of his neck and cheeks. For +once Bill Quade himself was at a loss. + +"I understand that you have rooms for rent," she said unemotionally. "May I +hire one until the train leaves for Tête Jaune Cache?" + +The listeners behind her stiffened and leaned forward. One of them grinned +at Quade. This gave him the confidence he needed to offset the fearless +questioning in the blue eyes. None of them noticed a newcomer in the door. +Quade stepped from behind his shelter and faced her. + +"This way," he said, and turned to the drawn curtains beyond them. + +She followed. As the curtains closed after them a chuckling laugh broke the +silence of the on-looking group. The newcomer in the doorway emptied the +bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the breast-pocket of his flannel +shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was blond, shot a little with gray. He +was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than the girl herself, slim-waisted, +with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as they rested on the +still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray. His face was thin +and bronzed, his nose a trifle prominent. He was a man far from handsome, +and yet there was something of fascination and strength about him. He did +not belong to the Horde. Yet he might have been the force behind it, +contemptuous of the chuckling group of rough-visaged men, almost arrogant +in his posture as he eyed the curtains and waited. + +What he expected soon came. It was not the usual giggling, the usual +exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains. Quade did +not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with a sort of +exultant satisfaction. The girl preceded him. She flung the curtains aside +and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire, her blue eyes +filled with the flash of lightning. She came down the single step. Quade +followed her. He put out a hand. + +"Don't take offence, girly," he expostulated. "Look here--ain't it +reasonable to s'pose----" + +He got no farther. The man in the door had advanced, placing himself at the +girl's side. His voice was low and unexcited. + +"You have made a mistake?" he said. + +She took him in at a glance--his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his +slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes. + +"Yes, I have made a mistake--a terrible mistake!" + +"I tell you it ain't fair to take offence," Quade went on. "Now, look +here----" + +In his hand was a roll of bills. The girl did not know that a man could +strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger +struck then. There was one blow, and Quade went down limply. It was so +sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had happened. + +"I chanced to see you go in," he explained, without a tremor in his voice. +"I thought you were making a mistake. I heard you ask for shelter. If you +will come with me I will take you to a friend's." + +"If it isn't too much trouble for you, I will go," she said. "And for +that--in there--thank you!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which +faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town. It +was chiefly of canvas. Now and then a structure of logs added an appearance +of solidity to the whole. The girl did not look too closely. She knew that +they passed places in which there were long rows of cots, and that others +were devoted to trade. She noticed signs which advertised soft drinks and +cigars--always "soft drinks," which sometimes came into camp marked as +"dynamite," "salt pork," and "flour." She was conscious that every one +stared at them as they passed. She heard clearly the expressions of wonder +and curiosity of two women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in +front of a rooming-tent. She looked at the man at her side. She appreciated +his courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship. In her eyes +was a ripple of amusement. + +"This is all strange and new to me--and not at all uninteresting," she +said. "I came expecting--everything. And I am finding it. Why do they stare +at me so? Am I a curiosity?" + +"You are," he answered bluntly. "You are the most beautiful woman they have +ever seen." + +His eyes encountered hers as he spoke. He had answered her question fairly. +There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look. She had +asked for information, and he had given it. In spite of herself the girl's +lips trembled. Her colour deepened. She smiled. + +"Pardon me," she entreated. "I seldom feel like laughing, but I almost do +now. I have encountered so many curious people and have heard so many +curious things during the past twenty-four hours. You don't believe in +concealing your thoughts out here in the wilderness, do you?" + +"I haven't expressed _my_ thoughts," he corrected. "I was telling you what +_they_ think." + +"Oh-h-h--I beg your pardon again!" + +"Not at all," he answered lightly, and now his eyes were laughing frankly +into her own. "I don't mind informing you," he went on, "that I am the +biggest curiosity you will meet between this side of the mountains and the +sea. I am not accustomed to championing women. I allow them to pursue their +own course without personal interference on my part. But--I suppose it will +give you some satisfaction if I confess it--I followed you into Bill's +place because you were more than ordinarily beautiful, and because I wanted +to see fair play. I knew you were making a mistake. I knew what would +happen." + +They had passed the end of the street, and entered a little green plain +that was soft as velvet underfoot. On the farther side of this, sheltered +among the trees, were two or three tents. The man led the way toward these. + +"Now, I suppose I've spoiled it all," he went on, a touch of irony in his +voice. "It was really quite heroic of me to follow you into Bill's place, +don't you think? You probably want to tell me so, but don't quite dare. +And I should play up to my part, shouldn't I? But I cannot--not +satisfactorily. I'm really a bit disgusted with myself for having taken as +much interest in you as I have. I write books for a living. My name is John +Aldous." + +With a little cry of amazement, his companion stopped. Without knowing it, +her hand had gripped his arm. + +"You are John Aldous--who wrote 'Fair Play,' and 'Women!'" she gasped. + +"Yes," he said, amusement in his face. + +"I have read those books--and I have read your plays," she breathed, a +mysterious tremble in her voice. "You despise women!" + +"Devoutly." + +She drew a deep breath. Her hand dropped from his arm. + +"This is very, very funny," she mused, gazing off to the sun-capped peaks +of the mountains. "You have flayed women alive. You have made them want to +mob you. And yet----" + +"Millions of them read my books," he chuckled. + +"Yes--all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into his +face. "And I guess--in many ways--you have pointed out things that are +true." + +It was his turn to show surprise. + +"You believe that?" + +"I do. More than that--I have always thought that I knew your secret--the +big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal +because you know the world would laugh at you. And so--_you despise me!_" + +"Not you." + +"I am a woman." + +He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red. + +"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you +were going to leave on the Tête Jaune train. I am going to take you to a +real dinner. And now--I should let those good people know your name." + +A moment--unflinching and steady--she looked into his face. + +"It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in +fiction. Joanne Gray." + +"I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell +new-baked bread." + +As they moved on he suddenly touched her arm. She felt for a moment the +firm clasp of his fingers. There was a new light in his eyes, a glow of +enthusiasm. + +"I have it!" he cried. "You have brought it to me--the idea. I have been +wanting a name for _her_--the woman in my new book. She is to be a +tremendous surprise. I haven't found a name, until now--one that fits. I +shall call her Ladygray!" + +He felt the girl flinch. He was surprised at the sudden startled look that +shot into her eyes, the swift ebbing of the colour from her cheeks. He drew +away his hand at the strange change in her. He noticed how quickly she was +breathing--that the fingers of her white hands were clasped tensely. + +"You object," he said. + +"Not enough to keep you from using it," she replied in a low voice. "I owe +you a great deal." He noted, too, how quickly she had recovered herself. +Her head was a little higher. She looked toward the tents. "You were not +mistaken," she added. "I smell new-made bread!" + +"And I shall emphasize the first half of it--_Lady_gray," said John Aldous, +as if speaking to himself. "That diminutizes it, you might say--gives it +the touch of sentiment I want. You can imagine a lover saying 'Dear little +_Lady_gray, are you warm and comfy?' He wouldn't say Ladygray as if she +wore a coronet, would he?" + +"Smell-o'-bread--fresh bread!" sniffed Joanne Gray, as if she had not heard +him. "It's making me hungry. Will you please hurry me to it, John Aldous?" + +They were approaching the first of the three tent-houses, over which was a +crudely painted sign which read "Otto Brothers, Guides and Outfitters." It +was a large, square tent, with weather-faded red and blue stripes, and from +it came the cheerful sound of a woman's laughter. Half a dozen +trampish-looking Airedale terriers roused themselves languidly as they drew +nearer. One of them stood up and snarled. + +"They won't hurt you," assured Aldous. "They belong to Jack Bruce and +Clossen Otto--the finest bunch of grizzly dogs in the Rockies." Another +moment, and a woman had appeared in the door. "And that is Mrs. Jack Otto," +he added under his breath. "If all women were like her I wouldn't have +written the things you have read!" + +He might have added that she was Scotch. But this was not necessary. The +laughter was still in her good-humoured face. Aldous looked at his +companion, and he found her smiling back. The eyes of the two women had +already met. + +Briefly Aldous explained what had happened at Quade's, and that the young +woman was leaving on the Tête Jaune train. The good-humoured smile left +Mrs. Otto's face when he mentioned Quade. + +"I've told Jack I'd like to poison that man some day," she cried. "You poor +dear, come in, I'll get you a cup of tea." + +"Which always means dinner in the Otto camp," added Aldous. + +"I'm not so hungry, but I'm tired--so tired," he heard the girl say as she +went in with Mrs. Otto, and there was a new and strangely pathetic note in +her voice. "I want to rest--until the train goes." + +He followed them in, and stood for a moment near the door. + +"There's a room in there, my dear," said the woman, drawing back a curtain. +"Make yourself at home, and lie down on the bed until I have the tea +ready." + +When the curtain had closed behind her, John Aldous spoke in a low voice to +the woman. + +"Will you see her safely to the train, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "It leaves at +a quarter after two. I must be going." + +He felt that he had sufficiently performed his duty. He left the tent, and +paused for a moment outside to touzle affectionately the trampish heads of +the bear dogs. Then he turned away, whistling. He had gone a dozen steps +when a low voice stopped him. He turned. Joanne had come from the door. + +For one moment he stared as if something more wonderful than anything he +had ever seen had risen before him. The girl was bareheaded, and she stood +in a sun mellowed by a film of cloud. Her head was piled with lustrous +coils of gold-brown hair that her hat and veil had hidden. Never had he +looked upon such wonderful hair, crushed and crumpled back from her smooth +forehead; nor such marvellous whiteness of skin and pure blue depths of +eyes! In her he saw now everything that was strong and splendid in woman. +She was not girlishly sweet. She was not a girl. She was a woman--glorious +to look at, a soul glowing out of her eyes, a strength that thrilled him in +the quiet and beautiful mystery of her face. + +"You were going without saying good-bye," she said. "Won't you let me thank +you--a last time?" + +Her voice brought him to himself again. A moment he bent over her hand. A +moment he felt its warm, firm pressure in his own. The smile that flashed +to his lips was hidden from her as he bowed his blond-gray head. + +"Pardon me for the omission," he apologized. "Good-bye--and may good luck +go with you!" + +Their eyes met once more. With another bow he had turned, and was +continuing his way. At the door Joanne Gray looked back. He was whistling +again. His careless, easy stride was filled with a freedom that seemed to +come to her in the breath of the mountains. And then she, too, smiled +strangely as she reëntered the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +If John Aldous had betrayed no visible sign of inward vanquishment he at +least was feeling its effect. For years his writings had made him the +target for a world of women, and many men. The men he had regarded with +indifferent toleration. The women were his life--the "frail and ineffective +creatures" who gave spice to his great adventure, and made his days +anything but monotonous. He was not unchivalrous. Deep down in his +heart--and this was his own secret--he did not even despise women. But he +had seen their weaknesses and their frailties as perhaps no other man had +ever seen them, and he had written of them as no other man had ever +written. This had brought him the condemnation of the host, the admiration +of the few. His own personal veneer of antagonism against woman was purely +artificial, and yet only a few had guessed it. He had built it up about him +as a sort of protection. He called himself "an adventurer in the mysteries +of feminism," and to be this successfully he had argued that he must +destroy in himself the usual heart-emotions of the sex-man and the animal. + +How far he had succeeded in this he himself did not know--until these last +moments when he had bid good-bye to Joanne Gray. He confessed that she had +found a cleft in his armour, and there was an uneasy thrill in his blood. +It was not her beauty alone that had affected him. He had trained himself +to look at a beautiful woman as he might have looked at a beautiful flower, +confident that if he went beyond the mere admiration of it he would find +only burned-out ashes. But in her he had seen something that was more than +beauty, something that for a flashing moment had set stirring every +molecule in his being. He had felt the desire to rest his hand upon her +shining hair! + +He turned off into a winding path that led into the thick poplars, +restraining an inclination to look back in the direction of the Otto camp. +He pulled out the pipe he had dropped into his shirt pocket, filled it with +fresh tobacco, and began smoking. As he smoked, his lips wore a quizzical +smile, for he was honest enough to give Joanne Gray credit for her triumph. +She had awakened a new kind of interest in him--only a passing interest, to +be sure--but a new kind for all that. The fact amused him. In a large way +he was a humourist--few guessing it, and he fully appreciated the humour of +the present situation--that he, John Aldous, touted the world over as a +woman-hater, wanted to peer out through the poplar foliage and see that +wonderful gold-brown head shining in the sun once more! + +He wandered more slowly on his way, wondering with fresh interest what his +friends, the women, would say when they read his new book. His title for it +was "Mothers." It was to be a tremendous surprise. + +Suddenly his face became serious. He faced the sound of a distant +phonograph. It was not the phonograph in Quade's place, but that of a rival +dealer in soft drinks at the end of the "street." For a moment Aldous +hesitated. Then he turned in the direction of the camp. + +Quade was bolstered up on a stool, his back against the thin partition, +when John Aldous sauntered in. There was still a groggy look in his mottled +face. His thick bulk hung a bit limply. In his heavy-lidded eyes, +under-hung by watery pouches of sin and dissipation, there was a vengeful +and beastlike glare. He was surrounded by his friends. One of them was +taking a wet cloth from his head. There were a dozen in the canvas-walled +room, all with their backs to the door, their eyes upon their fallen and +dishonoured chief. For a moment John Aldous paused in the door. The cool +and insolent smile hovered about his lips again, and little crinkles had +gathered at the corners of his eyes. + +"Did I hit you pretty hard, Bill?" he asked. + +Every head was turned toward him. Bill Quade stared, his mouth open. He +staggered to his feet, and stood dizzily. + +"You--damn you!" he cried huskily. + +Three or four of the men had already begun to move toward the stranger. +Their hands were knotted, their faces murderously dark. + +"Wait a minute, boys," warned Aldous coolly. "I've got something to say to +you--and Bill. Then eat me alive if you want to. Do you want to be square +enough to give me a word?" + +Quade had settled back sickly on his stool. The others had stopped, +waiting. The quiet and insolently confident smile had not left Aldous' +lips. + +"You'll feel better in a few minutes, Bill," he consoled. "A hard blow on +the jaw always makes you sick at the pit of the stomach. That dizziness +will pass away shortly. Meanwhile, I'm going to give you and your pals a +little verbal and visual demonstration of what you're up against, and warn +you to bait no traps for a certain young woman whom you've lately seen. +She's going on to Tête Jaune. And I know how your partner plays his game up +there. I'm not particularly anxious to butt into your affairs and the +business of this pretty bunch that's gathered about you, but I've come to +give you a friendly warning for all that. If this young woman is +embarrassed up at Tête Jaune you're going to settle with me." + +Aldous had spoken without a tremor of excitement in his voice. Not one of +the men noticed his speaking lips, his slim hands, or his careless posture +as he leaned in the door. They were looking straight into his eyes, +strangely scintillating and deadly earnest. In such a man mere bulk did not +count. + +"That much--for words," he went on. "Now I'm going to give you the visual +demonstration. I know your game, Bill. You're already planning what you're +going to do. You won't fight fair--because you never have. You've already +decided that some morning I'll turn up missing, or be dug out from under a +fall of rock, or go peacefully floating down the Athabasca. See! There's +nothing in that hand, is there?" + +He stretched out an empty hand toward them, palm up. + +"And now!" + +A twist of the wrist so swift their eyes could not follow, a metallic +click, and the startled group were staring into the black muzzle of a +menacing little automatic. + +"That's known as the sleeve trick, boys," explained Aldous with his +imperturbable smile. "It's a relic of the old gun-fighting days when the +best man was quickest. From now on, especially at night, I shall carry this +little friend of mine just inside my wristband. There are eleven shots in +it, and I shoot fairly straight. Good-day!" + +Before they had recovered from their astonishment he was gone. + +He did not follow the road along which Joanne had come a short time before, +but turned again into the winding trail that led riverward through the +poplars. Where before he had been a little amused at himself, he was now +more seriously disgusted. He was not afraid of Quade, who was perhaps the +most dangerous man along the line of rail. Neither was he afraid of the +lawless men who worked his ends. But he knew that he had made powerful +enemies, and all because of an unknown woman whom he had never seen until +half an hour before. It was this that disturbed his equanimity--the _woman_ +of it, and the knowledge that his interference had been unsolicited and +probably unnecessary. And now that he had gone this far he found it not +easy to recover his balance. Who was this Joanne Gray? he asked himself. +She was not ordinary--like the hundred other women who had gone on ahead of +her to Tête Jaune Cache. If she had been that, he would soon have been in +his little shack on the shore of the river, hard at work. He had planned +work for himself that afternoon, and he was nettled to discover that his +enthusiasm for the grand finale of a certain situation in his novel was +gone. Yet for this he did not blame her. He was the fool. Quade and his +friends would make him feel that sooner or later. + +His trail led him to a partly dry muskeg bottom. Beyond this was a thicker +growth of timber, mostly spruce and cedar, from behind which came the +rushing sound of water. A few moments more and he stood with the wide +tumult of the Athabasca at his feet. He had chosen this spot for his little +cabin because the river ran wild here among the rocks, and because +pack-outfits going into the southward mountains could not disturb him by +fording at this point. Across the river rose the steep embankments that +shut in Buffalo Prairie, and still beyond that the mountains, thick with +timber rising billow on billow until trees looked like twigs, with gray +rock and glistening snow shouldering the clouds above the last purple line. +The cabin in which he had lived and worked for many weeks faced the river +and the distant Saw Tooth Range, and was partly hidden in a clump of +jack-pines. He opened the door and entered. Through the window to the south +and west he could see the white face of Mount Geikie, and forty miles away +in that wilderness of peaks, the sombre frown of Hardesty; through it the +sun came now, flooding his work as he had left it. The last page of +manuscript on which he had been working was in his typewriter. He sat down +to begin where he had left off in that pivotal situation in his +masterpiece. + +He read and re-read the last two or three pages of the manuscript, +struggling to pick up the threads where he had dropped them. With each +reading he became more convinced that his work for that afternoon was +spoiled. And by whom? By _what?_ A little fiercely he packed his pipe with +fresh tobacco. Then he leaned back, lighted it, and laughed. More and more +as the minutes passed he permitted himself to think of the strange young +woman whose beauty and personality had literally projected themselves into +his workshop. He marvelled at the crudity of the questions which he asked +himself, and yet he persisted in asking them. Who was she? What could be +her mission at Tête Jaune Cache? She had repeated to him what she had said +to the girl in the coach--that at Tête Jaune she had no friends. Beyond +that, and her name, she had offered no enlightenment. + +In the brief space that he had been with her he had mentally tabulated her +age as twenty-eight--no older. Her beauty alone, the purity of her eyes, +the freshness of her lips, and the slender girlishness of her figure, might +have made him say twenty, but with those things he had found the maturer +poise of the woman. It had been a flashlight picture, but one that he was +sure of. + +Several times during the next hour he turned to his work, and at last gave +up his efforts entirely. From a peg in the wall he took down a little +rifle. He had found it convenient to do much of his own cooking, and he had +broken a few laws. The partridges were out of season, but temptingly fat +and tender. With a brace of young broilers in mind for supper, he left the +cabin and followed the narrow foot-trail up the river. He hunted for half +an hour before he stirred a covey of birds. Two of these he shot. +Concealing his meat and his gun near the trail he continued toward the ford +half a mile farther up, wondering if Stevens, who was due to cross that +day, had got his outfit over. Not until then did he look at his watch. He +was surprised to find that the Tête Jaune train had been gone three +quarters of an hour. For some unaccountable reason he felt easier. He went +on, whistling. + +At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting +one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation. + +"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up. "You never can tell what +it's going to do overnight. Look there! Would you try to cross?" + +"I wouldn't," replied Aldous. "It's a foot higher than yesterday. I +wouldn't take the chance." + +"Not with two guides, a cook, and a horse-wrangler on your pay-roll--and a +hospital bill as big as Geikie staring you in the face?" argued Stevens, +who had been sick for three months. "I guess you'd pretty near take a +chance. I've a notion to." + +"I wouldn't," repeated Aldous. + +"But I've lost two days already, and I'm taking that bunch of sightseers +out for a lump sum, guaranteeing 'em so many days on the trail. This ain't +what you might call _on the trail_. They don't expect to pay for this +delay, and that outfit back in the bush is costing me thirty dollars a day. +We can get the dunnage and ourselves over in the flat-boat. It'll make our +arms crack--but we can do it. I've got twenty-seven horses. I've a notion +to chase 'em in. The river won't be any lower to-morrow." + +"But you may be a few horses ahead." + +Stevens bit off a chunk of tobacco and sat down. For a few moments he +looked at the muddy flood with an ugly eye. Then he chuckled, and grinned. + +"Came through the camp half an hour ago," he said. "Hear you cleaned up on +Bill Quade." + +"A bit," said Aldous. + +Stevens rolled his quid and spat into the water slushing at his feet. + +"Guess I saw the woman when she got off the train," he went on. "She +dropped something. I picked it up, but she was so darned pretty as she +stood there looking about I didn't dare go up an' give it to her. If it had +been worth anything I'd screwed up my courage. But it wasn't--so I just +gawped like the others. It was a piece of paper. Mebby you'd like it as a +souvenir, seein' as you laid out Quade for her." + +As he spoke, Stevens fished a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and +gave it to his companion. Aldous had sat down beside him. He smoothed the +page out on his knee. There was no writing on it, but it was crowded thick +with figures, as if the maker of the numerals had been doing some problem +in mathematics. The chief thing that interested him was that wherever +monetary symbols were used it was the "pound" and not the "dollar" sign. +The totals of certain columns were rather startling. + +"Guess she's a millionaire if that's her own money she's been figgering," +said Stevens. "Notice that figger there!" He pointed with a stubby +forefinger. "Pretty near a billion, ain't it?" + +"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Aldous. + +He was thinking of the "pound" sign. She had not looked like the +Englishwomen he had met. He folded the slip of paper and put it in his +pocket. + +Stevens eyed him seriously. + +"I was coming over to give you a bit of advice before I left for the +Maligne Lake country," he said. "You'd better move. Quade won't want you +around after this. Besides----" + +"What?" + +"My kid heard something," continued the packer, edging nearer. "You was +mighty good to the kid when I was down an' out, Aldous. I ought to tell +you. It wasn't an hour ago the kid was behind the tent an' he heard Quade +and Slim Barker talking. So far as I can find from the kid, Quade has gone +nutty over her. He's ravin'. He told Slim that he'd give ten thousand +dollars to get her in his hands. What sent the boy down to me was Quade +tellin' Slim that he'd get _you_ first. He told Slim to go on to Tête +Jaune--follow the girl!" + +"The deuce you say!" cried Aldous, clutching the other's arm suddenly. +"He's done that?" + +"That's what the kid says." + +Aldous rose to his feet slowly. The careless smile was playing about his +mouth again. A few men had learned that in those moments John Aldous was +dangerous. + +"The kid is undoubtedly right," he said, looking down at Stevens. "But I am +quite sure the young woman is capable of taking care of herself. Quade has +a tremendous amount of nerve, setting Slim to follow her, hasn't he? Slim +may run up against a husband or a brother." + +Stevens haunched his shoulders. + +"It's not the woman I'm thinking about. It's you. I'd sure change my +location." + +"Why wouldn't it be just as well if I told the police of his threat?" asked +Aldous, looking across the river with a glimmer of humour in his eyes. + +"Oh, hell!" was the packer's rejoinder. + +Slowly he unwound his long legs and rose to his feet. + +"Take my advice--move!" he said. "As for me, I'm going to cross that cussed +river this afternoon or know the reason why." + +He stalked away in the direction of his outfit, chewing viciously at his +quid. For a few moments Aldous stood undecided. He would liked to have +joined the half-dozen men he saw lounging restfully a distance beyond the +grazing ponies. But Stevens had made him acutely aware of a new danger. He +was thinking of his cabin--and the priceless achievement of his last months +of work, his manuscript. If Quade should destroy that---- + +He clenched his hands and walked swiftly toward his camp. To "burn out" an +enemy was one of Quade's favourite methods of retaliation. He had heard +this. He also knew that Quade's work was done so cleverly that the police +had been unable to call him to account. + +Quade's status had interested Aldous from the beginning. He had discovered +that Quade and Culver Rann, his partner at Tête Jaune, were forces to be +reckoned with even by the "powers" along the line of rail. They were the +two chiefs of the "underground," the men who controlled the most dangerous +element from Miette to Fort George. He had once seen Culver Rann, a quiet, +keen-eyed, immaculately groomed man of forty--the cleverest scoundrel that +had ever drifted into the Canadian west. He had been told that Rann was +really the brain of the combination, and that the two had picked up a +quarter of a million in various ways. But it was Quade with whom he had to +deal now, and he began to thank Stevens for his warning. He was filled with +a sense of relief when he reached his cabin and found it as he had left +it. He always made a carbon copy of his work. This copy he now put into a +waterproof tin box, and the box he concealed under a log a short distance +back in the bush. + +"Now go ahead, Quade," he laughed to himself, a curious, almost exultant +ring in his voice. "I haven't had any real excitement for so long I can't +remember, and if you start the fun there's going to _be_ fun!" + +He returned to his birds, perched himself behind a bush at the river's +edge, and began skinning them. He had almost finished when he heard hoarse +shouts from up the river. From his position he could see the stream a +hundred yards below the ford. Stevens had driven in his horses. He could +see them breasting the first sweep of the current, their heads held high, +struggling for the opposite shore. He rose, dropped his birds, and stared. + +"Good God, what a fool!" he gasped. + +He saw the tragedy almost before it had begun. Still three hundred yards +below the swimming horses was the gravelly bar which they must reach on the +opposite side. He noted the grayish strip of smooth water that marked the +end of the dead-line. Three or four of the stronger animals were forging +steadily toward this. The others grouped close together, almost motionless +in their last tremendous fight, were left farther and farther behind. Then +came the break. A mare and her yearling colt had gone in with the bunch. +Aldous saw the colt, with its small head and shoulders high out of the +water, sweep down like a chip with the current. A cold chill ran through +him as he heard the whinneying scream of the mother--a warning cry that +held for him the pathos and the despair of a creature that was human. He +knew what it meant. "Wait--I'm coming--I'm coming!" was in that cry. He saw +the mare give up and follow resistlessly with the deadly current, her eyes +upon her colt. The heads behind her wavered, then turned, and in another +moment the herd was sweeping down to its destruction. + +Aldous felt like turning his head. But the spectacle fascinated him, and he +looked. He did not think of Stevens and his loss as the first of the herd +plunged in among the rocks. He stood with white face and clenched hands, +leaning over the water boiling at his feet, cursing softly in his +helplessness. To him came the last terrible cries of the perishing animals. +He saw head after head go under. Out of the white spume of a great rock +against which the flood split itself with the force of an avalanche he saw +one horse pitched bodily, as if thrown from a huge catapault. The last +animal had disappeared when chance turned his eyes upstream and close in to +shore. Here flowed a steady current free of rock, and down this--head and +shoulders still high out of the water--came the colt! What miracle had +saved the little fellow thus far Aldous did not stop to ask. Fifty yards +below it would meet the fate of the others. Half that distance in the +direction of the maelstrom below was the dead trunk of a fallen spruce +overhanging the water for fifteen or twenty feet. In a flash Aldous was +racing toward it. He climbed out on it, leaned far over, and reached down. +His hand touched the water. In the grim excitement of rescue he forgot his +own peril. There was one chance in twenty that the colt would come within +his reach, and it did. He made a single lunge and caught it by the ear. For +a moment after that his heart turned sick. Under the added strain the dead +spruce sagged down with a warning crack. But it held, and Aldous hung to +his grip on the ear. Foot by foot he wormed his way back, until at last he +had dragged the little animal ashore. + +And then a voice spoke behind him, a voice that he would have recognized +among ten thousand, low, sweet, thrilling. + +"That was splendid, John Aldous!" it said. "If I were a man I would want to +be a man like you!" + +He turned. A few steps from him stood Joanne Gray. Her face was as white as +the bit of lace at her throat. Her lips were colourless, and her bosom rose +and fell swiftly. He knew that she, too, had witnessed the tragedy. And the +eyes that looked at him were glorious. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +To John Aldous Joanne's appearance at this moment was like an anti-climax. +It plunged him headlong for a single moment into what he believed to be the +absurdity of a situation. He had a quick mental picture of himself out on +the dead spruce, performing a bit of mock-heroism by dragging in a +half-drowned colt by one ear. In another instant this had passed, and he +was wondering why Joanne Gray was not on her way to Tête Jaune. + +"It was splendid!" she was saying again, her eyes glowing at him. "I know +men who would not have risked that for a human!" + +"Perhaps they would have been showing good judgment," replied Aldous. + +He noticed now that she was holding with one hand the end of a long slender +sapling which a week or two before he had cut and trimmed for a fish-pole. +He nodded toward it, a half-cynical smile on his lips. + +"Were you going to fish me out--or the colt?" he asked. + +"You," she replied. "I thought you were in danger." And then she added, "I +suppose you are deeply grateful that fate did not compel you to be saved by +a woman." + +"Not at all. If the spruce had snapped, I would have caught at the end of +your sapling like any drowning rat--or man. Allow me to thank you." + +She had stepped down to the level strip of sand on which the colt was +weakly struggling to rise to its feet. She was breathing quickly. Her face +was still pale. She was without a hat, and as she bent for a moment over +the colt Aldous felt his eyes drawn irresistibly to the soft thick coils of +her hair, a glory of colour that made him think of the lustrous brown of a +ripe wintelberry. She looked up suddenly and caught his eyes upon her. + +"I came quite by accident," she explained quickly. "I wanted to be alone, +and Mrs. Otto said this path would lead to the river. When I saw you I was +about to turn back. And then I saw the other--the horses coming down the +stream. It was terrible. Are they all drowned?" + +"All that you saw. It wasn't a pretty sight, was it?" There was a +suggestive inquiry in his voice as he added, "If you had gone to Tête Jaune +you would have missed the unpleasantness of the spectacle." + +"I would have gone, but something happened. They say it was a cave-in, a +slide--something like that. The train cannot go on until to-morrow." + +"And you are to stay with the Ottos?" + +She nodded. + +Quick as a flash she had seemed to read his thoughts. + +"I am sorry," she added, before he could speak. "I can see that I have +annoyed you. I have literally projected myself into your work, and I am +afraid that I have caused you trouble. Mrs. Otto has told me of this man +they call Quade. She says he is dangerous. And I have made him your enemy." + +"I am, not afraid of Quade. The incident was nothing more than an agreeable +interruption to what was becoming a rather monotonous existence up here. I +have always believed, you know, that a certain amount of physical +excitement is good oil for our mental machinery. That, perhaps, was why you +caught me hauling at His Coltship's ear." + +He had spoken stiffly. There was a hard note in his voice, a suggestion of +something that was displeasing in his forced laugh. He knew that in these +moments he was fighting against his inner self--against his desire to tell +her how glad he was that something had held back the Tête Jaune train, and +how wonderful her hair looked in the afternoon sun. He was struggling to +keep himself behind the barriers he had built up and so long maintained in +his writings. And yet, as he looked, he felt something crumbling into +ruins. He knew that he had hurt her. The hardness of his words, the +coldness of his smile, his apparently utter indifference to her had sent +something that was almost like a quick, physical pain into her eyes. He +drew a step nearer, so that he caught the soft contour of her cheek. Joanne +Gray heard him, and lowered her head slightly, so that he could not see. +She was a moment too late. On her cheek Aldous saw a single creeping +drop--a tear. + +In an instant he was at her side. With a quick movement she brushed the +tear away before she faced him. + +"I've hurt you," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I've hurt you, +and God knows I'm a brute for doing it. I've treated you as badly as +Quade--only in a different way. I know how I've made you feel--that you've +been a nuisance, and have got me into trouble, and that I don't want to +have anything more to do with you. Have I made you feel that?" + +"I am afraid--you have." + +He reached out a hand, and almost involuntarily her own came to it. She saw +the change in his face, regret, pain, and then that slow-coming, wonderful +laughter in his eyes. + +"That's just how I set out to make you feel," he confessed, the warmth of +her hand sending a thrill through him. "I might as well be frank, don't you +think? Until you came I had but one desire, and that was to finish my book. +I had planned great work for to-day. And you spoiled it. I couldn't get you +out of my mind. And it made me--ugly." + +"And that was--all?" she whispered, a tense waiting in her eyes. "You +didn't think----" + +"What Quade thought," he bit in sharply. The grip of his fingers hurt her +hand. "No, not that. My God, I didn't make you think _that?_" + +"I'm a stranger--and they say women don't go to Tête Jaune alone," she +answered doubtfully. + +"That's true, they don't--not as a general rule. Especially women like you. +You're alone, a stranger, and too beautiful. I don't say that to flatter +you. You are beautiful, and you undoubtedly know it. To let you go on alone +and unprotected among three or four thousand men like most of those up +there would be a crime. And the women, too--the Little Sisters. They'd +blast you. If you had a husband, a brother or a father waiting for you it +would be different. But you've told me you haven't. You have made me change +my mind about my book. You are of more interest to me just now than that. +Will you believe me? Will you let me be a friend, if you need a friend?" + +To Aldous it seemed that she drew herself up a little proudly. For a moment +she seemed taller. A rose-flush of colour spread over her cheeks. She drew +her hand from him. And yet, as she looked at him, he could see that she was +glad. + +"Yes, I believe you," she said. "But I must not accept your offer of +friendship. You have done more for me now than I can ever repay. Friendship +means service, and to serve me would spoil your plans, for you are in great +haste to complete your book." + +"If you mean that you need my assistance, the book can wait." + +"I shouldn't have said that," she cut in quickly, her lips tightening +slightly. "It was utterly absurd of me to hint that I might require +assistance--that I cannot take care of myself. But I shall be proud of the +friendship of John Aldous." + +"Yes, you can take care of yourself, Ladygray," said Aldous softly, looking +into her eyes and yet speaking as if to himself. "That is why you have +broken so curiously into my life. It's _that_--and not your beauty. I have +known beautiful women before. But they were--just women, frail things that +might snap under stress. I have always thought there is only one woman in +ten thousand who would not do that--under certain conditions. I believe you +are that one in ten thousand. You can go on to Tête Jaune alone. You can go +anywhere alone--and care for yourself." + +He was looking at her so strangely that she held her breath, her lips +parted, the flush in her cheeks deepening. + +"And the strangest part of it all is that I have always known you away back +in my imagination," he went on. "You have lived there, and have troubled +me. I could not construct you perfectly. It is almost inconceivable that +you should have borne the same name--Joanne. Joanne, of 'Fair Play.'" + +She gave a little gasp. + +"Joanne was--terrible," she cried. "She was bad--bad to the heart and soul +of her!" + +"She was splendid," replied Aldous, without a change in his quiet voice. +"She was splendid--but bad. I racked myself to find a soul for her, and I +failed. And yet she was splendid. It was my crime--not hers--that she +lacked a soul. She would have been my ideal, but I spoiled her. And by +spoiling her I sold half a million copies of the book. I did not do it +purposely. I would have given her a soul if I could have found one. She +went her way." + +"And you compare me to--_her?_" + +"Yes," said Aldous deliberately. "You are that Joanne. But you possess what +I could not give to her. Joanne of 'Fair Play' was splendid without a soul. +You have what she lacked. You may not understand, but you have come to +perfect what I only partly created." + +The colour had slowly ebbed from Joanne's face. There was a mysterious +darkness in her eyes. + +"If you were not John Aldous I would--strike you," she said. "As it +is--yes--I want you as a friend." + +She held out her hand. For a moment he felt its warmth again in his own. +He bowed over it. Her eyes rested steadily on his blond head, and again she +noted the sprinkle of premature gray in his hair. For a second time she +felt almost overwhelmingly the mysterious strength of this man. Perhaps +each took three breaths before John Aldous raised his head. In that time +something wonderful and complete passed between them. Neither could have +told the other what it was. When their eyes met again, it was in their +faces. + +"I have planned to have supper in my cabin to-night," said Aldous, breaking +the tension of that first moment. "Won't you be my guest, Ladygray?" + +"Mrs. Otto----" she began. + +"I will go to her at once and explain that you are going to eat partridges +with me," he interrupted. "Come--let me show you into my workshop and +home." + +He led her to the cabin and into its one big room. + +"You will make yourself at home while I am gone, won't you?" he invited. +"If it will give you any pleasure you may peel a few potatoes. I won't be +gone ten minutes." + +Not waiting for any protest she might have, Aldous slipped back through the +door and took the path up to the Ottos'. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +As soon as he had passed from the view of the cabin door Aldous shortened +his pace. He knew that never in his life had he needed to readjust himself +more than at the present moment. A quarter of an hour had seen a complete +and miraculous revolution within him. It was a change so unusual and +apparently so impossible that he could not grasp the situation and the fact +all at once. But the truth of it swept over him more and more swiftly as he +made his way along the dark, narrow trail that led up to the Miette Plain. +It was something that not only amazed and thrilled him. First--as in all +things--he saw the humour of it. He, John Aldous of all men, had utterly +obliterated himself, and for a _woman_. He had even gone so far as to offer +the sacrifice of his most important work. Frankly he had told Joanne that +she interested him more just now than his book. Again he repeated to +himself that it had not been a surrender--but an obliteration. With a pair +of lovely eyes looking quietly into him, he had wiped the slate clean of +the things he had preached for ten years and the laws he had made for +himself. And as he came in sight of the big Otto tent, he found himself +smiling, his breath coming quickly, strange voices singing within him. + +He stopped to load and light his pipe before he faced Mrs. Otto, and he +clouded himself in as much smoke as possible while he explained to her +that he had almost forced Joanne to stop at his cabin and eat partridges +with him. He learned that the Tête Jaune train could not go on until the +next day, and after Mrs. Otto had made him take a loaf of fresh bread and a +can of home-made marmalade as a contribution to their feast, he turned back +toward the cabin, trying to whistle in his old careless way. + +The questions he had first asked himself about Joanne forced themselves +back upon him now with deeper import. Almost unconsciously he had revealed +himself to her. He had spread open for her eyes and understanding the page +which he had so long hidden. He had as much as confessed to her that she +had come to change him--to complete what he had only half created. It had +been an almost inconceivable and daring confession, and he believed that +she understood him. More than that, she had read about him. She had read +his books. She knew John Aldous--the man. + +But what did he know about her beyond the fact that her name was Joanne +Gray, and that the on-sweeping Horde had brought her into his life as +mysteriously as a storm might have flung him a bit of down from a swan's +breast? Where had she come from? And why was she going to Tête Jaune? It +must be some important motive was taking her to a place like Tête Jaune, +the rail-end, a place of several thousand men, with its crude muscle and +brawn and the seven passions of man. It was an impossible place for a young +and beautiful woman unprotected. If Joanne had known any one among the +engineers or contractors, or had she possessed a letter of introduction to +them, the tense lines would not have gathered so deeply about the corners +of Aldous' mouth. But these men whose brains were behind the Horde--the +engineers and the contractors--knew what women alone and unprotected meant +at Tête Jaune. Such women floated in with the Horde. And Joanne was going +in with the Horde. There lay the peril--and the mystery of it. + +So engrossed was Aldous in his thoughts that he had come very quietly to +the cabin door. It was Joanne's voice that roused him. Sweet and low she +was singing a few lines from a song which he had never heard. + +She stopped when Aldous appeared at the door. It seemed to him that her +eyes were a deeper, more wonderful blue as she looked up at him, and +smiled. She had found a towel for an apron, and was peeling potatoes. + +"You will have some unusual excuses to make very soon," she greeted him. +"We had a visitor while you were gone. I was washing the potatoes when I +looked up to find a pair of the fiercest, reddest moustaches I have ever +seen, ornamenting the doorway. The man had two eyes that seemed about to +fall out when he saw me. He popped away like a rabbit--and--and--there's +something he left behind in his haste!" + +Joanne's eyes were flooded with laughter as she nodded at the door. On the +sill was a huge quid of tobacco. + +"Stevens!" Aldous chuckled. "God bless my soul, if you frightened him into +giving up a quid of tobacco like that you sure _did_ startle him some!" He +kicked Stevens' lost property out with the toe of his boot and turned to +Joanne, showing her the fresh bread and marmalade. "Mrs. Otto sent these to +you," he said. "And the train won't leave until to-morrow." + +In her silence he pulled a chair in front of her, sat down close, and +thrust the point of his hunting knife into one of the two remaining +potatoes. + +"And when it does go I'm going with you," he added. + +He expected this announcement would have some effect on her. As she jumped +up with the pan of potatoes, leaving the one still speared on the end of +his knife, he caught only the corner of a bewitching smile. + +"You still believe that I will be unable to take care of myself up at this +terrible Tête Jaune?" she asked, bending for a moment over the table. "Do +you?" + +"No. You can care for yourself anywhere, Ladygray," he repeated. "But I am +quite sure that it will be less troublesome for me to see that no insults +are offered you than for you to resent those insults when they come. Tête +Jaune is full of Quades," he added. + +The smile was gone from her face when she turned to him. Her blue eyes were +filled with a tense anxiety. + +"I had almost forgotten that man," she whispered. "And you mean that you +would fight for me--again?" + +"A thousand times." + +The colour grew deeper in her cheeks. "I read something about you once that +I have never forgotten, John Aldous," she said. "It was after you returned +from Thibet. It said that you were largely made up of two emotions--your +contempt for woman and your love of adventure; that it would be impossible +for you not to see a flaw in one, and that for the other--physical +excitement--you would go to the ends of the earth. Perhaps it is this--your +desire for adventure--that makes you want to go with me to Tête Jaune?" + +"I am beginning to believe that it will be the greatest adventure of my +life," he replied, and something in his quiet voice held her silent. He +rose to his feet, and stood before her. "It is already the Great +Adventure," he went on. "I feel it. And I am the one to judge. Until to-day +I would have staked my life that no power could have wrung from me the +confession I am going to make to you voluntarily. I have laughed at the +opinion the world has held of me. To me it has all been a colossal joke. I +have enjoyed the hundreds of columns aimed at me by excited women through +the press. They have all asked the same question: Why do you not write of +the good things in women instead of always the bad? I have never given them +an answer. But I answer you now--here. I have not picked upon the +weaknesses of women because I despise them. Those weaknesses--the +destroying frailties of womankind--I have driven over rough-shod through +the pages of my books because I have always believed that Woman was the one +thing which God came nearest to creating _perfect_. I believe they should +be perfect. And because they have not quite that perfection which should be +theirs I have driven the cold facts home as hard as I could. I have been a +fool and an iconoclast instead of a builder. This confession to you is +proof that you have brought me face to face with the greatest adventure of +all." + +The colour in her cheeks had centred in two bright spots. Her lips formed +words which came slowly, strangely. + +"I guess--I understand," she said. "Perhaps I, too, would have been that +kind of an iconoclast--if I could have put the things I have thought into +written words." She drew a deep breath, and went on, her eyes full upon +him, speaking as if out of a dream. "The Great Adventure--for you. Yes; and +perhaps for both." + +Her hands were drawn tightly to her breast. Something about her as she +stood there, her back to the table, drew John Aldous to her side, forced +the question from his lips: "Tell me, Ladygray--why are you going to Tête +Jaune?" + +In that same strange way, as if her lips were framing words beyond their +power to control, she answered: + +"I am going--to find--my husband." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Silent, his head bowed a little, John Aldous stood before her after those +last words. A slight noise outside gave him the pretext to turn to the +door. She was going to Tête Jaune--to find her husband! He had not expected +that. For a breath, as he looked out toward the bush, his mind was in a +strange daze. A dozen times she had given him to understand there was no +husband, father, or brother waiting for her at the rail-end. She had told +him that she was alone--without friends. And now, like a confession, those +words had come strangely from her lips. + +What he had heard was one of Otto's pack-horses coming down to drink. He +turned toward her again. + +Joanne stood with her back still to the table. She had slipped a hand into +the front of her dress and had drawn forth a long thick envelope. As she +opened it, Aldous saw that it contained banknotes. From among these she +picked out a bit of paper and offered it to him. + +"That will explain--partly," she said. + +It was a newspaper clipping, worn and faded, with a date two years old. It +had apparently been cut from an English paper, and told briefly of the +tragic death of Mortimer FitzHugh, son of a prominent Devonshire family, +who had lost his life while on a hunting trip in the British Columbia +Wilds. + +"He was my husband," said Joanne, as Aldous finished. "Until six months ago +I had no reason to believe that the statement in the paper was not true. +Then--an acquaintance came out here hunting. He returned with a strange +story. He declared that he had seen Mr. FitzHugh alive. Now you know why I +am here. I had not meant to tell you. It places me in a light which I do +not think that I can explain away--just now. I have come to prove or +disprove his death. If he is alive----" + +For the first time she betrayed the struggle she was making against some +powerful emotion which she was fighting to repress. Her face had paled. She +stopped herself with a quick breath, as if knowing that she had already +gone too far. + +"I guess I understand," said Aldous. "For some reason your anxiety is not +that you will find him dead, Ladygray, but that you may find him alive." + +"Yes--yes, that is it. But you must not urge me farther. It is a terrible +thing to say. You will think I am not a woman, but a fiend. And I am your +guest. You have invited me to supper. And--the potatoes are ready, and +there is no fire!" + +She had forced a smile back to her lips. John Aldous whirled toward the +door. + +"I will have the partridges in two seconds!" he cried. "I dropped them when +the horses went through the rapids." + +The oppressive and crushing effect of Joanne's first mention of a husband +was gone. He made no effort to explain or analyze the two sudden changes +that swept over him. He accepted them as facts, and that was all. Where a +few moments before there had been the leaden grip of something that seemed +to be physically choking him, there was now again the strange buoyancy with +which he had gone to the Otto tent. He began to whistle as he went to the +river's edge. He was whistling when he returned, the two birds in his hand. +Joanne was waiting for him in the door. Again her face was a faintly tinted +vision of tranquil loveliness; her eyes were again like the wonderful blue +pools over the sunlit mountains. She smiled as he came up. He was +amazed--not that she had recovered so completely from the emotional +excitement that had racked her, but because she betrayed in no way a sign +of grief--of suspense or of anxiety. A few minutes ago he had heard her +singing. He could almost believe that her lips might break into song again +as she stood there. + +From that moment until the sun sank behind the mountains and gray shadows +began to creep in where the light had been, there was no other reference to +the things that had happened or the things that had been said since +Joanne's arrival. For the first time in years John Aldous completely forgot +his work. He was lost in Joanne. With the tremendous reaction that was +working out in him she became more and more wonderful to him with each +breath that he drew. He made no effort to control the change that was +sweeping through him. His one effort was to keep it from being too apparent +to her. + +The way in which Joanne had taken his invitation was as delightful as it +was new to him. She had become both guest and hostess. With her lovely arms +bared halfway to the shoulders she rolled out a batch of biscuits. "Hot +biscuits go so well with marmalade," she told him. He built a fire. Beyond +that, and bringing in the water, she gave him to understand that his duties +were at an end, and that he could smoke while she prepared the supper. With +the beginning of dusk he closed the cabin door that he might have an excuse +for lighting the big hanging lamp a little earlier. He had imagined how its +warm glow would flood down upon the thick soft coils of her shining hair. + +Every fibre in him throbbed with a keen and exquisite satisfaction as he +sat down opposite her. During the meal he looked into the quiet, velvety +blue of her eyes a hundred times. He found it a delightful sensation to +talk to her and look into those eyes at the same time. He told her more +about himself than he had ever told another soul. It was she who spoke +first of the manuscript upon which he was working. He had spoken of certain +adventures that had led up to the writing of one of his books. + +"And this last book you are writing, which you call 'Mothers,'" she said. +"Is it to be like 'Fair Play?'" + +"It was to have been the last of the trilogy. But it won't be now, +Ladygray. I've changed my mind." + +"But it is so nearly finished, you say?" + +"I would have completed it this week. I was rushing it to an end at fever +heat when--you came." + +He saw the troubled look in her eyes, and hastened to add: + +"Let us not talk about that manuscript, Ladygray. Some day I will let you +read it, and then you will understand why your coming has not hurt it. At +first I was unreasonably disturbed because I thought that I must finish it +within a week from to-day. I start out on a new adventure then--a strange +adventure, into the North." + +"That means--the wild country?" she asked. "Up there in the North--there +are no people?" + +"An occasional Indian, perhaps a prospector now and then," he said. "Last +year I travelled a hundred and twenty-seven days without seeing a human +face except that of my Cree companion." + +She had leaned a little over the table, and was looking at him intently, +her eyes shining. + +"That is why I have understood you, and read between the printed lines in +your books," she said. "If I had been a man, I would have been a great deal +like you. I love those things--loneliness, emptiness, the great spaces +where you hear only the whisperings of the winds and the fall of no other +feet but your own. Oh, I should have been a man! It was born in me. It was +a part of me. And I loved it--loved it." + +A poignant grief had shot into her eyes. Her voice broke almost in a sob. +Amazed, he looked at her in silence across the table. + +"You have lived that life, Ladygray?" he said after a moment. "You have +seen it?" + +"Yes," she nodded, clasping and unclasping her slim white hands. "For years +and years, perhaps even more than you, John Aldous! I was born in it. And +it was my life for a long time--until my father died." She paused, and he +saw her struggling to subdue the quivering throb in her throat. "We were +inseparable," she went on, her voice becoming suddenly strange and quiet. +"He was father, mother--everything to me. It was too wonderful. Together +we hunted out the mysteries and the strange things in the out-of-the-way +places of the earth. It was his passion. He had given birth to it in me. I +was always with him, everywhere. And then he died, soon after his discovery +of that wonderful buried city of Mindano, in the heart of Africa. Perhaps +you have read----" + +"Good God," breathed Aldous, so low that his voice did not rise above a +whisper. "Joanne--Ladygray--you are not speaking of Daniel Gray--Sir Daniel +Gray, the Egyptologist, the antiquarian who uncovered the secrets of an +ancient and wonderful civilization in the heart of darkest Africa?" + +"Yes." + +"And you--are his daughter?" + +She bowed her head. + +Like one in a dream John Aldous rose from his chair and went to her. He +seized her hands and drew her up so that they stood face to face. Again +that strange and beautiful calmness filled her eyes. + +"Our trails have strangely crossed, Lady Joanne," he said. "They have been +crossing--for years. While Sir Daniel was at Murja, on the eve of his great +discovery, I was at St. Louis on the Senegal coast. I slept in that little +Cape Verde hotel, in the low whitewashed room overlooking the sea. The +proprietor told me that Sir Daniel had occupied it before me, and I found a +broken fountain pen in the drawer of that sickly black teakwood desk, with +the carved serpent's head. And I was at Gampola at another time, headed for +the interior of Ceylon, when I learned that I was travelling again one of +Sir Daniel's trails. And you were with him!" + +"Always," said Joanne. + +For a few tense moments they had looked steadily into each other's eyes. +Swiftly, strangely, the world was bridging itself for them. Their minds +swept back swiftly as the fire in a thunder-sky. They were no longer +strangers. They were no longer friends of a day. The grip of Aldous' hands +tightened. A hundred things sprang to his lips. Before he could speak, he +saw a sudden, startled change leap into Joanne's face. She had turned her +face a little, so that she was looking toward the window. A frightened cry +broke from her lips. Aldous whirled about. There was nothing there. He +looked at Joanne again. She was white and trembling. Her hands were +clutched at her breast. Her eyes, big and dark and staring, were still +fixed on the window. + +"That man!" she panted. "His face was there--against the glass--like a +devil's!" + +"Quade?" + +"Yes." + +She caught at his arm as he sprang toward the door. + +"Stop!" she cried. "You mustn't go out----" + +For a moment he turned at the door. He was as she had seen him in Quade's +place, terribly cool, a strange, quiet smile on his lips. His eyes were +gray, smiling steel. + +"Close the door after me and lock it until I return," he said. "You are the +first woman guest I ever had, Ladygray. I cannot allow you to be insulted!" + +As he went out she saw him slip something from his pocket. She caught the +glitter of it in the lamp-glow. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade. He ran with the quickness +of a hare around the end of the cabin, past the window, and then stopped to +listen, his automatic in his hand, his eye piercing the gloom for some +moving shadow. He had not counted on an instant's hesitation. He would +shoot Quade, for he knew why the mottled beast had been at the window. +Stevens' boy had been right. Quade was after Joanne. His ugly soul was +disrupted with a desire to possess her, and Aldous knew that when roused by +passion he was more like a devil-fish than a man--a creeping, slimy, +night-seeking creature who had not only the power of the underworld back of +him, but wealth as well. He did not think of him as a man as he stood +listening, but as a beast. He was ready to shoot. But he saw nothing. He +heard no sound that could have been made by a stumbling foot or a moving +body. An hour later, the moon would have been up, but it was dark now +except for the stars. He heard the hoot of an owl a hundred yards away. Out +in the river something splashed. From the timber beyond Buffalo Prairie +came the yapping bark of a coyote. For five minutes he stood as silent as +one of the rocks behind him. He realized that to go on--to seek blindly for +Quade in the darkness, would be folly. He went back, tapped at the door, +and reëntered the cabin when Joanne threw back the lock. + +She was still pale. Her eyes were bright. + +"I was coming--in a moment," she said, "I was beginning to fear that----" + +"--he had struck me down in the dark?" added Aldous, as she hesitated. +"Well, he would like to do just that, Joanne." Unconsciously her name had +slipped from him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to +call her Joanne now. "Is it necessary for me to tell you what this man +Quade is--why he was looking through the window?" + +She shuddered. + +"No--no--I understand!" + +"Only partly," continued Aldous, his face white and set. "It is necessary +that you should know more than you have guessed, for your own protection. +If you were like most other women I would not tell you the truth, but would +try to shield you from it. As it is you should know. There is only one +other man in the Rocky Mountains more dangerous than Bill Quade. He is +Culver Rann, up at Tête Jaune. They are partners--partners in crime, in +sin, in everything that is bad and that brings them gold. Their influence +among the rougher elements along the line of rail is complete. They are so +strongly entrenched that they have put contractors out of business because +they would not submit to blackmail. The few harmless police we have +following the steel have been unable to touch them. They have cleaned up +hundreds of thousands, chiefly in three things--blackmail, whisky, and +women. Quade is the viler of the two. He is like a horrible beast. Culver +Rann makes me think of a sleek and shining serpent. But it is this man +Quade----" + +He found it almost impossible to go on with Joanne's blue eyes gazing so +steadily into his. + +"--whom we have made our enemy," she finished for him. + +"Yes--and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "You +cannot go on to Tête Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If you +do----" + +"What will happen?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I am +going to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on to +Tête Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to which +I can take you, and where you will be safe." + +As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table. + +"I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said. + +He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through the +door. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness of +the spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand. + +"It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like the +shell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?" + +"No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and they +made me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them." + +He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as she +spoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, that +made her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand was +gripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert, +yet she could detect nothing of caution or preparedness in his careless +voice. + +"The bloodstones didn't trouble me," he answered. "I can't remember +anything that upset me more than the snakes. I am a terrible coward when it +comes to anything that crawls without feet. I will run from a snake no +longer than your little finger--in fact, I'm just as scared of a little +grass snake as I am of a python. It's the _thing_, and not its size, that +horrifies me. Once I jumped out of a boat into ten feet of water because my +companion caught an eel on his line, and persisted in the argument that it +was a fish. Thank Heaven we don't have snakes up here. I've seen only three +or four in all my experience in the Northland." + +She laughed softly in spite of the uneasy thrill the night held for her. + +"It is hard for me to imagine you being afraid," she said. "And yet if you +were afraid I know it would be of just some little thing like that. My +father was one of the bravest men in the world, and a hundred times I have +seen him show horror at sight of a spider. If you were afraid of snakes, +why did you go up the Gampola, in Ceylon?" + +"I didn't know the snakes were there," he chuckled. "I hadn't dreamed there +were a half so many snakes in the whole world as there were along that +confounded river. I slept sitting up, dressed in rubber wading boots that +came to my waist, and wore thick leather gloves. I got out of the country +at the earliest possible moment." + +When they entered the edge of the Miette clearing and saw the glow of +lights ahead of them, Aldous caught the sudden upturn of his companion's +face, laughing at him in the starlight. + +"Kind, thoughtful John Aldous!" she whispered, as if to herself. "How nice +of you it was to talk of such pleasant things while we were coming through +that black, dreadful swamp--with a Bill Quade waiting for us on the side!" + +A low ripple of laughter broke from her lips, and he stopped dead in his +tracks, forgetting to put the automatic back in his pocket. At sight of it +the amusement died in her face. She caught his arm, and one of her hands +seized the cold steel of the pistol. + +"Would he--_dare?_" she demanded. + +"You can't tell," replied Aldous, putting the gun in his pocket. "And that +was a creepy sort of conversation to load you down with, wasn't it, +Ladygray? I imagine you'll catch me in all sorts of blunders like that." He +pointed ahead. "There's Mrs. Otto now. She's looking this way and wondering +with all her big heart if you ought not to be at home and in bed." + +The door of the Otto home was wide open, and silhouetted in the flood of +light was the good-natured Scotchwoman. Aldous gave the whistling signal +which she and her menfolk always recognized, and hurried on with Joanne. + +Before they had quite reached the tent-house, Joanne put a detaining hand +on his arm. + +"I don't want you to go back to the cabin to-night," she said. "The face at +the window--was terrible. I am afraid. I don't want you to be there alone." + +Her words sent a warm glow through him. + +"Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Quade will not come back." + +"I don't want you to return to the cabin," she persisted. "Is there no +other place where you can stay?" + +"I might go down and console Stevens, and borrow a couple of his horse +blankets for a bed if that will please you." + +"It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may go +on to Tête Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?" + +"It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'll +promise not to sleep in the cabin to-night." + +Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night, +and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacks +under the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety and +fear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw her +pause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. His +heart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangely +new and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way. + +He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the moment +he had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood was +roused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to find +Quade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himself +that he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficult +for Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business that +could be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job to +lose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white striped +tent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed him +before, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now he +wanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant to +come up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into the +lighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrust +carelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroad +builders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool balls +and the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or four +musical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's place +was going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whom +he knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their manner +toward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certain +they would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign. +For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotch +surveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no mention of him. Purposely he +passed Quade's tent and walked to the end of the street, nodding and +looking closely at those whom he knew. It was becoming more and more +evident to him that Quade and his pals were keeping the affair of the +afternoon as quiet as possible. Stevens had heard of it. He wondered how. + +Aldous retraced his steps. As though nothing had happened, he entered +Quade's place. There were a dozen men inside, and among them he recognized +three who had been there that afternoon. He nodded to them. Slim Barker was +in Quade's place behind the counter. Barker was Quade's right-hand man at +Miette, and there was a glitter in his rat-like eyes as Aldous leaned over +the glass case at one end of the counter and asked for cigars. He fumbled a +bit as he picked out half a dollar's worth from the box. His eyes met +Slim's. + +"Where is Quade?" he asked casually. + +Barker shrugged his shoulders. + +"Busy to-night," he answered shortly. "Want to see him?" + +"No, not particularly. Only--I don't want him to hold a grudge." + +Barker replaced the box in the case and turned away. After lighting a cigar +Aldous went out. He was sure that Quade had not returned from the river. +Was he lying in wait for him near the cabin? The thought sent a sudden +thrill through him. In the same breath it was gone. With half a dozen men +ready to do his work, Aldous knew that Quade would not redden his own hands +or place himself in any conspicuous risk. During the next hour he visited +the places where Quade was most frequently seen. He had made up his mind to +walk over to the engineers' camp, when a small figure darted after him out +of the gloom of the trees. + +It was Stevens' boy. + +"Dad wants to see you down at the camp," he whispered excitedly. "He says +right away--an' for no one to see you. He said not to let any one see me. +I've been waiting for you to come out in the dark." + +"Skip back and tell him I'll come," replied Aldous quickly. "Be sure you +mind what he says--and don't let any one see you!" + +The boy disappeared like a rabbit. Aldous looked back, and ahead, and then +dived into the darkness after him. + +A quarter of an hour later he came out on the river close to Stevens' camp. +A little nearer he saw Stevens squatted close to a smouldering fire about +which he was drying some clothes. The boy was huddled in a disconsolate +heap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretched +himself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind a +clump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right in +using caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer's +face. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than when +Aldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droop +of his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coals +of fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a moment +they stood silent. + +"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got +something to tell you." + +They crouched behind the bush. + +"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit." + +"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens." + +The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and +gripped John Aldous by the arm. + +"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take +offence--because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw +her up at the train. But you _know_. Is she good, or----You know what we +think of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask." + +"She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and as +sweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for." + +"I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her in +your cabin--after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quade +was here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seen +I had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me that +later. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like he +did then. I'll cut it short. He's mad--loon mad--over that girl. I played +the sympathy act, thinkin' of you--an' _her_. He hinted at some easy money. +I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to take +money most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you. +Then it come out. He made me a proposition." + +Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush. + +"Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone." + +Stevens bent so near that his tobacco-laden breath swept his companion's +cheek. + +"He said he'd replace my lost outfit if I'd put you out of the way some +time day after to-morrow!" + +"Kill me?" + +"Yes." + +For a few moments there was a silence broken only by their tense breathing. +Aldous had found the packer's hand. He was gripping it hard. + +"Thank you, old man," he said. "And he believes you will do it?" + +"I told him I would--day after to-morrow--an' throw your body in the +Athabasca." + +"Splendid, Stevens! You've got Sherlock Holmes beat by a mile! And does he +want you to do this pretty job because I gave him a crack on the jaw?" + +"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Stevens quickly. "He knows the girl is a +stranger and alone. You've taken an interest in her. With you out of the +way, she won't be missed. Dammit, man, don't you know his system? And, if +he ever wanted anything in his life he wants her. She's turned that +poison-blood of his into fire. He raved about her here. He'll go the limit. +He'll do anything to get her. He's so crazy I believe he'd give every +dollar he's got. There's just one thing for you to do. Send the girl back +where she come from. Then you get out. As for myself--I'm goin' to +emigrate. Ain't got a dollar now, so I might as well hit for the prairies +an' get a job on a ranch. Next winter I guess me 'n the kid will trap up on +the Parsnip River." + +"You're wrong--clean wrong," said Aldous quietly. "When I saw your outfit +going down among the rocks I had already made up my mind to help you. What +you've told me to-night hasn't made any difference. I would have helped you +anyway, Stevens. I've got more money than I know what to do with right now. +Roper has a thirty-horse outfit for sale. Buy it to-morrow. I'll pay for +it, and you needn't consider yourself a dollar in debt. Some day I'll have +you take me on a long trip, and that will make up for it. As for the girl +and myself--we're going on to Tête Jaune to-morrow." + +Aldous could see the amazed packer staring at him in the gloom. "You don't +think I'm sellin' myself, do you, Aldous?" he asked huskily. "That ain't +why you're doin' this--for me 'n the kid--is it?" + +"I had made up my mind to do it before I saw you to-night," repeated +Aldous. "I've got lots of money, and I don't use but a little of it. It +sometimes accumulates so fast that it bothers me. Besides, I've promised to +accept payment for the outfit in trips. These mountains have got a hold on +me, Stevens. I'm going to take a good many trips before I die." + +"Not if you go on to Tête Jaune, you ain't," replied Stevens, biting a huge +quid from a black plug. + +Aldous had risen to his feet. Stevens stood up beside him. + +"If you go on to Tête Jaune you're a bigger fool than I was in tryin' to +swim the outfit across the river to-day," he added. "Listen!" He leaned +toward Aldous, his eyes gleaming. "In the last six months there's been +forty dead men dragged out of the Frazer between Tête Jaune an' Fort +George. You know that. The papers have called 'em accidents--the 'toll of +railroad building.' Mebby a part of it is. Mebby a half of them forty died +by accident. The other half didn't. They were sent down by Culver Rann and +Bill Quade. Once you go floatin' down the Frazer there ain't no questions +asked. Somebody sees you an' pulls you out--mebby a Breed or an Indian--an' +puts you under a little sand a bit later. If it's a white man he does +likewise. There ain't no time to investigate floaters over-particular in +the wilderness. Besides, you git so beat up in the rocks you don't look +like much of anything. I know, because I worked on the scows three months, +an' helped bury four of 'em. An' there wasn't anything, not even a scrap of +paper, in the pockets of two of 'em! Is that suspicious, or ain't it? It +don't pay to talk too much along the Frazer. Men keep their mouths shut. +But I'll tell you this: Culver Rann an' Bill Quade know a lot." + +"And you think I'll go in the Frazer?" + +"Egzactly. Quade would rather have you in there than in the Athabasca. And +then----" + +"Well?" + +Stevens spat into the bush, and shrugged his shoulders. "This beautiful +lady you've taken an interest in will turn up missing, Aldous. She'll +disappear off the face of the map--just like Stimson's wife did. You +remember Stimson?" + +"He was found in the Frazer," said Aldous, gripping the other's arm in the +darkness. + +"Egzactly. An' that pretty wife of his disappeared a little later. Up there +everybody's too busy to ask where other people go. Culver Rann an' Bill +Quade know what happened to Stimson, an' they know what happened to +Stimson's wife. You don't want to go to Tête Jaune. You don't want to let +_her_ go. I know what I'm talking about. Because----" + +There fell a moment's silence. Aldous waited. Stevens spat again, and +finished in a whisper: + +"Quade went to Tête Jaune to-night. He went on a hand-car. He's got +something he wants to tell Culver Rann that he don't dare telephone or +telegraph. An' he wants to get that something to him ahead of to-morrow's +train. Understand?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +John Aldous confessed to himself that he did not quite understand, in spite +of the effort Stevens had made to impress upon him, the importance of not +going to Tête Jaune. He was bewildered over a number of things, and felt +that he needed to be alone for a time to clear his mind. He left Stevens, +promising to return later to share a couple of blankets and a part of his +tepee, for he was determined to keep his promise to Joanne, and not return +to his own cabin, even though Quade had left Miette. He followed a moonlit +trail along the river to an abandoned surveyors' camp, knowing that he +would meet no one, and that in this direction he would have plenty of +unbroken quiet in which to get some sort of order out of the chaotic tangle +of events through which he had passed that day. + +Aldous had employed a certain amount of caution, but until he had talked +with Stevens he had not believed that Quade, in his twofold desire to +avenge himself and possess Joanne, would go to the extraordinary ends +predicted by the packer. His point of view was now entirely changed. He +believed Stevens. He knew the man was not excitable. He was one of the +coolest heads in the mountains. And he had abundant nerve. Thought of +Stimson and Stimson's wife had sent the hot blood through Aldous like fire. +Was Stevens right in that detail? And was Quade actually planning the same +end for him and Joanne? Why had Quade stolen on ahead to Tête Jaune? Why +had he not waited for to-morrow's train? + +He found himself walking swiftly along the road, where he had intended to +walk slowly--a hundred questions pounding through his brain. Suddenly a +thought came to him that stopped him in the trail, his unseeing eyes +staring down into the dark chasm of the river. After all, was it so strange +that Quade would do these things? Into his own life Joanne had come like a +wonderful dream-creature transformed into flesh and blood. He no longer +tried to evade the fact that he could not think without thinking of Joanne. +She had become a part of him. She had made him forget everything but her, +and in a few hours had sent into the dust of ruin his cynicism and +aloneness of a lifetime. If Joanne had come to him like this, making him +forget his work, filling him more and more with the thrilling desire to +fight for her, was it so very strange that a beast like Quade would +fight--in another way? + +He went on down the trail, his hands clenched tightly. After all, it was +not fear of Quade or of what he might attempt that filled him with +uneasiness. It was Joanne herself, her strange quest, its final outcome. +With the thought that she was seeking for the man who was her husband, a +leaden hand seemed gripping at his heart. He tried to shake it off, but it +was like a sickness. To believe that she had been the wife of another man +or that she could ever belong to any other man than himself seemed like +shutting his eyes forever to the sun. And yet she had told him. She had +belonged to another man; she might belong to him even now. She had come to +find if he was alive--or dead. + +And if alive? Aldous stopped again, and looked down into the dark pit +through which the river was rushing a hundred feet below him. It tore in +frothing maelstroms through a thousand rocks, filling the night with a low +thunder. To John Aldous the sound of it might have been a thousand miles +away. He did not hear. His eye saw nothing in the blackness. For a few +moments the question he had asked himself obliterated everything. If they +found Joanne's husband alive at Tête Jaune--what then? He turned back, +retracing his steps over the trail, a feeling of resentment--of hatred for +the man he had never seen--slowly taking the place of the oppressive thing +that had turned his heart sick within him. Then, in a flash, came the +memory of Joanne's words--words in which, white-faced and trembling, she +had confessed that her anxiety was not that she would find him dead, but +that _she would find him alive_. A joyous thrill shot through him as he +remembered that. Whoever this man was, whatever he might have been to her +once, or was to her now, Joanne did not want to find him alive! He laughed +softly to himself as he quickened his pace. The tense grip of his fingers +loosened. The grim, almost ghastly part of it did not occur to him--the +fact that deep in his soul he was wishing a man dead and in his grave. + +He did not return at once to the scenes about Quade's place, but went to +the station, three quarters of a mile farther up the track. Here, in a +casual way, he learned from the little pink-faced Cockney Englishman who +watched the office at night that Stevens had been correct in his +information. Quade had gone to Tête Jaune. Although it was eleven o'clock, +Aldous proceeded in the direction of the engineers' camp, still another +quarter of a mile deeper in the bush. He was restless. He did not feel that +he could sleep that night. The engineers' camp he expected to find in +darkness, and he was surprised when he saw a light burning brightly in +Keller's cabin. + +Keller was the assistant divisional engineer, and they had become good +friends. It was Keller who had set the first surveyor's line at Tête Jaune, +and it was he who had reported it as the strategic point from which to push +forward the fight against mountain and wilderness, both by river and rail. +He was, in a way, accountable for the existence of Tête Jaune just where it +did exist, and he knew more about it than any other man in the employ of +the Grand Trunk Pacific. For this reason Aldous was glad that Keller had +not gone to bed. He knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an +invitation. + +The engineer stood in the middle of the floor, his coat off, his fat, +stubby hands thrust into the pockets of his baggy trousers, his red face +and bald cranium shining in the lamplight. A strange fury blazed in his +eyes as he greeted his visitor. He began pacing back and forth across the +room, puffing volumes of smoke from a huge bowled German pipe as he +motioned Aldous to a chair. + +"What's the matter, Peter?" + +"Enough--an' be damned!" growled Peter. "If it wasn't enough do you think +I'd be out of bed at this hour of the night?" + +"I'm sure it's enough," agreed Aldous. "If it wasn't you'd be in your +little trundle over there, sleeping like a baby. I don't know of any one +who can sleep quite as sweetly as you, Peter. But what the devil _is_ the +trouble?" + +"Something that you can't make me feel funny over. You haven't heard--about +the bear?" + +"Not a word, Peter." + +Keller took his hands from his pockets and the big, bowled pipe from his +mouth. + +"You know what I did with that bear," he said. "More than a year ago I made +friends with her up there on the hill instead of killing her. Last summer I +got her so she'd eat out of my hands. I fed her a barrel of sugar between +July and November. We used to chum it an hour at a time, and I'd pet her +like a dog. Why, damn it, man, I thought more of that bear than I did of +any human in these regions! And she got so fond of me she didn't leave to +den up until January. This spring she came out with two cubs, an' as soon +as they could waddle she brought 'em out there on the hillside an' waited +for me. We were better chums than ever. I've got another half barrel of +sugar--lump sugar--on the way from Edmonton. An' now what do you think that +damned C.N.R. gang has done?" + +"They haven't shot her?" + +"No, they haven't shot her. I wish to God they had! They've _blown her +up!_" + +The little engineer subsided into a chair. + +"Do you hear?" he demanded. "They've blown her up! Put a stick of dynamite +under some sugar, attached a battery wire to it, an' when she was licking +up the sugar touched it off. An' I can't do anything, damn 'em! Bears ain't +protected. The government of this province calls 'em 'pests.' Murder 'em +on sight, it says. An' those fiends over there think it's a good joke on +me--an' the bear!" + +Keller was sweating. His fat hands were clenched, and his round, plump body +fairly shook with excitement and anger. + +"When I went over to-night they laughed at me--the whole bunch," he went on +thickly. "I offered to lick every man in the outfit from A to Z, an' I +ain't had a fight in twenty years. Instead of fighting like men, a dozen of +them grabbed hold of me, chucked me into a blanket, an' bounced me for +fifteen minutes straight! What do you think of _that_, Aldous? +Me--assistant divisional engineer of the G.T.P.--_bounced in a blanket_!" + +Peter Keller hopped from his chair and began pacing back and forth across +the room again, sucking truculently on his pipe. + +"If they were on our road I'd--I'd chase every man of them out of the +country. But they're not. They belong to the C.N.R. They're out of my +reach." He stopped, suddenly, in front of Aldous. "What can I do?" he +demanded. + +"Nothing," said Aldous. "You've had something like this coming to you, +Peter. I've been expecting it. All the camps for twenty miles up and down +the line know what you thought of that bear. You fired Tibbits because, as +you said, he was too thick with Quade. You told him that right before +Quade's face. Tibbits is now foreman of that grading gang over there. Two +and two make four, you know. Tibbits--Quade--the blown-up bear. Quade +doesn't miss an opportunity, no matter how small it is. Tibbits and Quade +did this to get even with you. You might report the blanket affair to the +contractors of the other road. I don't believe they would stand for it." + +Aldous had guessed correctly what the effect of associating Quade's name +with the affair would be. Keller was one of Quade's deadliest enemies. He +sat down close to Aldous again. His eyes burned deep back. It was not +Keller's physique, but his brain, and the fearlessness of his spirit, that +made him dangerous. + +"I guess you're right, Aldous," he said. "Some day--I'll even up on Quade." + +"And so shall I, Peter." + +The engineer stared into the other's eyes. + +"You----" + +Aldous nodded. + +"Quade left for Tête Jaune to-night, on a hand-car. I follow him to-morrow, +on the train. I can't tell you what's up, Peter, but I don't think it will +stop this side of death for Quade and Culver Rann--or me. I mean that quite +literally. I don't see how more than one side can come out alive. I want to +ask you a few questions before I go on to Tête Jaune. You know every +mountain and trail about the place, don't you?" + +"I've tramped them all, afoot and horseback." + +"Then perhaps you can direct me to what I must find--a man's grave." + +Peter Keller paused in the act of relighting his pipe. For a moment he +stared in amazement. + +"There are a great many graves up at Tête Jaune," he said, at last. "A +great many graves--and many of them unmarked. If it's a _Quade_ grave +you're looking for, Aldous, it will be unmarked." + +"I am quite sure that it is marked--or _was_ at one time," said Aldous. +"It's the grave of a man who had quite an unusual name, Peter, and you +might remember it--Mortimer FitzHugh." + +"FitzHugh--FitzHugh," repeated Keller, puffing out fresh volumes of smoke. +"Mortimer FitzHugh----" + +"He died, I believe, before there was a Tête Jaune, or at least before the +steel reached there," added Aldous. "He was on a hunting trip, and I have +reason to think that his death was a violent one." + +Keller rose and fell into his old habit of pacing back and forth across the +room, a habit that had worn a path in the bare pine boards of the floor. + +"There's graves an' graves up there, but not so many that were there before +Tête Jaune came," he began, between puffs. "Up on the side of White Knob +Mountain there's the grave of a man who was torn to bits by a grizzly. But +his name was Humphrey. Old Yellowhead John--Tête Jaune, they called +him--died years before that, and no one knows where his grave is. We had +five men die before the steel came, but there wasn't a FitzHugh among 'em. +Crabby--old Crabby Tompkins, a trapper, is buried in the sand on the +Frazer. The last flood swept his slab away. There's two unmarked graves in +Glacier Canyon, but I guess they're ten years old if a day. Burns was shot. +I knew him. Plenty died after the steel came, but before that----" + +Suddenly he stopped. He faced Aldous. His breath came in quick jerks. + +"By Heaven, I do remember!" he cried. "There's a mountain in the Saw Tooth +Range, twelve miles from Tête Jaune--a mountain with the prettiest basin +you ever saw at the foot of it, with a lake no bigger than this camp, and +an old cabin which Yellowhead himself must have built fifty years ago. +There's a blind canyon runs out of it, short an' dark, on the right. We +found a grave there. I don't remember the first name on the slab. Mebby it +was washed out. But, so 'elp me God, _the last name was FitzHugh_!" + +With a sudden cry, Aldous jumped to his feet and caught Keller's arm. + +"You're sure of it, Peter?" + +"Positive!" + +It was impossible for Aldous to repress his excitement. The engineer stared +at him even harder than before. + +"What can that grave have to do with Quade?" he asked. "The man died before +Quade was known in these regions." + +"I can't tell you now, Peter," replied Aldous, pulling the engineer to the +table. "But I think you'll know quite soon. For the present, I want you to +sketch out a map that will take me to the grave. Will you?" + +On the table were pencil and paper. Keller seated himself and drew them +toward him. + +"I'm damned if I can see what that grave can have to do with Quade," he +said; "but I'll tell you how to find it!" + +For several minutes they bent low over the table, Peter Keller describing +the trail to the Saw Tooth Mountain as he sketched it, step by step, on a +sheet of office paper. When it was done, Aldous folded it carefully and +placed it in his wallet. + +"I can't go wrong, and--thank you, Keller!" + +After Aldous had gone, Peter Keller sat for some time in deep thought. + +"Now I wonder what the devil there can be about a grave to make him so +happy," he grumbled, listening to the whistle that was growing fainter down +the trail. + +And Aldous, alone, with the moon straight above him as he went back to the +Miette Plain, felt, in truth, this night had become brighter for him than +any day he had ever known. For he knew that Peter Keller was not a man to +make a statement of which he was not sure. Mortimer FitzHugh was dead. His +bones lay under the slab up in that little blind canyon in the shadow of +the Saw Tooth Mountain. To-morrow he would tell Joanne. And, blindly, he +told himself that she would be glad. + +Still whistling, he passed the Chinese laundry shack on the creek, crossed +the railroad tracks, and buried himself in the bush beyond. A quarter of an +hour later he stole quietly into Stevens' camp and went to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Stevens, dreaming of twenty horses plunging to death among the rocks in the +river, slept uneasily. He awoke before it was dawn, but when he dragged +himself from his tepee, moving quietly not to awaken his boy, he found John +Aldous on his knees before a small fire, slicing thin rashers of bacon into +a frying-pan. The weight of his loss was in the tired packer's eyes and +face and the listless droop of his shoulders. John Aldous, with three hours +between the blankets to his credit, was as cheery as the crackling fire +itself. He had wanted to whistle for the last half-hour. Seeing Stevens, he +began now. + +"I wasn't going to rouse you until breakfast was ready," he interrupted +himself to say. "I heard you groaning, Stevens. I know you had a bad night. +And the kid, too. He couldn't sleep. But I made up my mind you'd have to +get up early. I've got a lot of business on to-day, and we'll have to rouse +Curly Roper out of bed to buy his pack outfit. Find the coffee, will you? I +couldn't." + +For a moment Stevens stood over him. + +"See here, Aldous, you didn't mean what you said last night, did you? You +didn't mean--that?" + +"Confound it, yes! Can't you understand plain English, Stevens? Don't you +believe a man when he's a gentleman? Buy that outfit! Why, I'd buy twenty +outfits to-day, I'm--I'm feeling so fine, Stevens!" + +For the first time in forty-eight hours Stevens smiled. + +"I was wondering if I hadn't been dreaming," he said. "Once, a long time +ago, I guess I felt just like you do now." + +With which cryptic remark he went for the coffee. + +Aldous looked up in time to see the boy stagger sleepily out of the tepee. +There was something pathetic about the motherlessness of the picture, and +he understood a little of what Stevens had meant. + +An hour later, with breakfast over, they started for Curly's. Curly was +pulling on his boots when they arrived, while his wife was frying the +inevitable bacon in the kitchen. + +"I hear you have some horses for sale, Curly," said Aldous. + +"Hi 'ave." + +"How many?" + +"Twenty-nine, 'r twenty-eight--mebby twenty-seven." + +"How much?" + +Curly looked up from the task of pulling on his second boot. + +"H'are you buying 'orses or looking for hinformation?" he asked. + +"I'm buying, and I'm in a hurry. How much do you want a head?" + +"Sixty, 'r six----" + +"I'll give you sixty dollars apiece for twenty-eight head, and that's just +ten dollars apiece more than they're worth," broke in Aldous, pulling a +check-book and a fountain pen from his pocket. "Is it a go?" + +A little stupefied by the suddenness of it all, Curly opened his mouth and +stared. + +"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles, +ropes, and canvases?" + +Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detect +anything that looked like a joke. + +"Hit's a go," he said. + +Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars. + +"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, but +they're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only with +your agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will you +agree to that?" + +Curly was joyously looking at the check. + +"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I give +you the word of a Hinglish gentleman!" + +Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leaving +Stevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody called +Curly, because he had no hair. + +Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired into +the condition that was holding back the Tête Jaune train. He found that a +slide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. A +hundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they would +finish by noon. A gang boss, who had come back with telegraphic reports, +said that half a dozen men had carried Quade's hand-car over the +obstruction about midnight. + +It was seven o'clock when Aldous left for the Miette bottom. He believed +that Joanne would be up. At this season of the year the first glow of day +usually found the Ottos at breakfast, and for half an hour the sun had been +shining on the top of Pyramid Mountain. He was eager to tell her what had +passed between him and Keller. He laughed softly when he confessed to +himself how madly he wanted to see her. + +He always liked to come up to the Otto home very early of a morning, or in +the dusk of evening. Very frequently he was filled with a desire to stand +outside the red-and-white striped walls of the tent-house and listen +unseen. Inside there was always cheer: at night the crackle of fire and the +glow of light, the happy laughter of the gentle-hearted Scotchwoman, and +the affectionate banter of her "big mountain man," who looked more like a +brigand than the luckiest and most contented husband in the mountains--the +luckiest, quite surely, with the one exception of his brother Clossen, who +had, by some occult strategy or other, induced a sweet-faced and +aristocratic little woman to look upon his own honest physiognomy as the +handsomest and finest in the world. This morning Aldous followed a narrow +path that brought him behind the tent-house. He heard no voices. A few +steps more and he emerged upon a scene that stopped him and set his heart +thumping. + +Less than a dozen paces away stood Mrs. Otto and Joanne, their backs toward +him. They were gazing silently and anxiously in the direction of the thick, +low bush across the clearing, through which led the trail to his cabin. He +did not look toward the bush. His eyes were upon Joanne. Her slender figure +was full in the golden radiance of the morning sun, and Aldous felt himself +under the spell of a joyous wonder as he looked at her. For the first time +he saw her hair as he had pictured it--as he had given it to that other +_Joanne_ in the book he had called "Fair Play." She had been brushing it in +the sun when he came, but now she stood poised in that tense and waiting +attitude--silent--gazing in the direction of the bush, with that marvellous +mantle sweeping about her in a shimmering silken flood. He would not have +moved, nor would he have spoken, until Joanne herself broke the spell. She +turned, and saw him. With a little cry of surprise she flung back her hair. +He could not fail to see the swift look of relief and gladness that had +come into her eyes. In another instant her face was flushing crimson. + +"I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper," he apologized. "I +thought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto." + +The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. + +"Goodness gracious, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed thankfully. +"Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your dead +body!" + +"We thought perhaps something might have happened," said Joanne, who had +moved nearer the door. "You will excuse me, won't you, while I finish my +hair?" + +Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent. No sooner had she +disappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto's face. There was a +note of alarm in her low voice as she whispered: + +"Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me. She +tried to be quiet, but I know she didn't sleep much. And she cried. I +couldn't hear her, but the pillow was wet. Once my hand touched her cheek, +and it was wet. I didn't ask any questions. This morning, at breakfast, she +told us everything that happened, all about Quade--and your trouble. She +told us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervous +thinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dear +couldn't even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt for +you. But I don't think that was why she cried!" + +"I wish it had been," said Aldous. "It makes me happy to think she was +worried about--me." + +"Good Lord!" gasped Mrs. Otto. + +He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding in +her kind eyes. + +"You will keep my little secret, won't you, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "Probably +you'll think it's queer. I've only known her a day. But I feel--like that. +Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or a +sister. I want you to understand why I'm going on to Tête Jaune with her. +That is why she was crying--because of the dread of something up there. I'm +going with her. She shouldn't go alone." + +Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Otto +had come out of the bush and were quite near. Aldous was sorry that Joanne +had spoken of his trouble with Quade. He did not want to discuss the +situation, or waste time in listening to further advice. He was anxious to +be alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from Peter +Keller. For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness. The brothers then +went on to their corral. A few minutes later Joanne was once more at his +side, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin on +the river. + +He could see that the night had made a change in her. There were circles +under her eyes which were not there yesterday. When she looked at him their +velvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was struggling +desperately to keep from him. It was not altogether fear. It was more a +betrayal of pain--a torment of the soul and not of the body. He noticed +that in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangely +pale. The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him was +gone. + +Then he began to tell her of his visit to Peter Keller. His own heart was +beating violently when he came to speak of the grave and the slab over it +that bore the name of FitzHugh. He had expected that what he had discovered +from Keller would create some sort of a sensation. He had even come up to +the final fact gradually, so that it would not appear bald and shocking. +Joanne's attitude stunned him. She looked straight ahead. When she turned +to him he did not see in her eyes what he had expected to see. They were +quiet, emotionless, except for that shadow of inward torture which did not +leave them. + +"Then to-morrow we can go to the grave?" she asked simply. + +Her voice, too, was quiet and without emotion. + +He nodded. "We can leave at sunrise," he said. "I have my own horses at +Tête Jaune and there need be no delay. We were to start into the North from +there." + +"You mean on the adventure you were telling me about?" + +She had looked at him quickly. + +"Yes. Old Donald, my partner, has been waiting for me a week. That's why I +was so deuced anxious to rush the book to an end. I'm behind Donald's +schedule, and he's growing nervous. It's rather an unusual enterprise +that's taking us north this time, and Donald can't understand why I should +hang back to write the tail end of a book. He has lived sixty years in the +mountains. His full name is Donald MacDonald. Sometimes, back in my own +mind, I've called him History. He seems like that--as though he'd lived for +ages in these mountains instead of sixty years. If I could only write what +he has lived--even what one might imagine that he has lived! But I cannot. +I have tried three times, and have failed. I think of him as The Last +Spirit--a strange wandering ghost of the mighty ranges. His kind passed +away a hundred years ago. You will understand--when you see him." + +She put her hand on his arm and let it rest there lightly as they walked. +Into her eyes had returned some of the old warm glow of yesterday. + +"I want you to tell me about this adventure," she entreated softly. "I +understand--about the other. You have been good--oh! so good to me! And I +should tell you things; you are expecting me to explain. It is only fair +and honest that I should. I know what is in your mind, and I only want you +to wait--until to-morrow. Will you? And I will tell you then, when we have +found the grave." + +Involuntarily his hand sought Joanne's. For a single moment he felt the +warm, sweet thrill of it in his own as he pressed it more closely to his +arm. Then he freed it, looking straight ahead. A soft flush grew in +Joanne's cheeks. + +"Do you care a great deal for riches?" he asked. "Does the golden pot at +the end of the rainbow hold out a lure for you?" He did not realize the +strangeness of his question until their eyes met. "Because if you don't," +he added, smiling, "this adventure of ours isn't going to look very +exciting to you." + +She laughed softly. + +"No, I don't care for riches," she replied. "I am quite sure that just as +great education proves to one how little one knows, so great wealth brings +one face to face with the truth of how little one can enjoy. My father used +to say that the golden treasure at the end of the rainbow in every human +life was happiness, and that is something which you cannot buy. So why +crave riches, then? But please don't let my foolish ideas disappoint you. +I'll promise to be properly excited." + +She saw his face suddenly aflame with enthusiasm. + +"By George, but you're a--a brick, Joanne!" he exclaimed. "You are! And +I--I----" He was fumbling in his breast pocket. He brought out his wallet +and extracted from it the bit of paper Stevens had given him. "You dropped +that, and Stevens found it," he explained, giving it to her. "I thought +those figures might represent your fortune--or your income. Don't mind +telling you I went over 'em carefully. There's a mistake in the third +column. Five and four don't make seven. They make nine. In the final, when +you come to the multiplication part of it, that correction will make you +just thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars richer." + +"Thanks," said Joanne, lowering her eyes, and beginning to tear the paper +into small pieces. "And will it disappoint you, Mr. John Aldous, if I tell +you that all these figures stand for riches which some one else possesses? +And won't you let me remind you that we're getting a long way from what I +want to know--about your trip into the North?" + +"That's just it: we're hot on the trail," chuckled Aldous, deliberately +placing her hand on his arm again. "You don't care for riches. Neither do +I. I'm delighted to know we're going tandem in that respect. I've never had +any fun with money. It's the money that's had fun with me. I've no use for +yachts and diamonds and I'd rather travel afoot with a gun over my shoulder +than in a private car. Half the time I'm doing my own cooking, and I +haven't worn a white shirt in a year. My publishers persist in shoving more +money my way than I know what to do with. + +"You see, I pay only ten cents a plug for my smoking tobacco, and other +things accordingly. Somebody has said something about the good Lord sitting +up in Heaven and laughing at the jokes He plays on men. Well, I'm sitting +back and laughing now and then at the tussle between men and money over all +creation. There's a whole lot of humour in the way men and women fight and +die for money, if you only take time to stand out on the side and look on. +There's nothing big or dramatic about it. I may be a heathen, but to my +mind the funniest of all things is to see the world wringing its neck for a +dollar. And Donald--old History--needs even less money than I. So that puts +the big element of humour in this expedition of ours. We don't want money, +particularly. Donald wouldn't wear more than four pairs of boots a year if +he was a billionaire. And yet----" + +He turned to Joanne. The pressure of her hand was warmer on his arm. Her +beautiful eyes were glowing, and her red lips parted as she waited +breathlessly for him to go on. + +"And yet, we're going to a place where you can scoop gold up with a +shovel," he finished. "That's the funny part of it." + +"It isn't funny--it's tremendous!" gasped Joanne. "Think of what a man like +you could do with unlimited wealth, the good you might achieve, the +splendid endowments you might make----" + +"I have already made several endowments," interrupted Aldous. "I believe +that I have made a great many people happy, Ladygray--a great many. I am +gifted to make endowments, I think, above most people. Not one of the +endowments I have made has failed of complete success." + +"And may I ask what some of them were?" + +"I can't remember them all. There have been a great, great many. Most +conspicuous among them were three endowments which I made to some very +worthy people at various times for seven salted mines. I suppose you know +what a salted mine is, Ladygray? At other times I have endowed railroad +stocks which were very much in need of my helping mite, two copper +companies, a concern that was supposed to hoist up pure asbestos from the +stomach of Popocatapetl, and a steamship company that never steamed. As I +said before, they were all very successful endowments." + +"And how many of the other kind have you made?" she asked gently, looking +down the trail. "Like--Stevens', for instance?" + +He turned to her sharply. + +"What the deuce----" + +"Did you succeed in getting the new outfit from Mr. Curly?" she asked. + +"Yes. How did you know?" + +She smiled at the amazement which had gathered in his face. A glad, soft +light shone in her eyes. + +"I guess Mrs. Otto has been like a mother to that poor little boy," she +explained. "When you and Mr. Stevens went up to buy the outfit this morning +Jimmy ran over to tell her the news. We were all there--at breakfast. He +was so excited he could scarcely breathe. But it all came out, and he ran +back to camp before you came because he thought you wouldn't want me to +know. Wasn't that funny? He told me so when I walked a little way up the +path with him." + +"The little reprobate!" chuckled Aldous. "He's the best publicity man I +ever had, Ladygray. I did want you to know about this, and I wanted it to +come to you in just this way, so that I wouldn't be compelled to tell you +myself of the big and noble act I have done. It was my hope and desire that +you, through some one else, would learn of it, and come to understand more +fully what a generous and splendid biped I am. I even plotted to give this +child of Stevens' a silver dollar if he would get the news to you in some +one of his innocent ways. He's done it. And he couldn't have done it +better--even for a dollar. Ah, here we are at the cabin. Will you excuse +me while I pick up a few things that I want to take on to Tête Jaune with +me?" + +Between two trees close to the cabin he had built a seat, and here he left +Joanne. He was gone scarcely five minutes when he reappeared with a small +pack-sack over his shoulders, locked the door, and rejoined her. + +"You see it isn't much of a task for me to move," he said, as they turned +back in the direction of the Ottos'. "I'll wash the dishes when I come back +next October." + +"Five months!" gasped Joanne, counting on her fingers. "John Aldous, do you +mean----" + +"I do," he nodded emphatically. "I frequently leave dishes unwashed for +quite a spell at a time. That's the one unpleasant thing about this sort of +life--washing dishes. It's not so bad in the rainy season, but it's fierce +during a dry spell. When it rains I put the dishes out on a flat rock, +dirty side up, and the good Lord does the scrubbing." + +He looked at Joanne, face and eyes aglow with the happiness that was +sweeping in a mighty tumult within him. Half an hour had worked a +transformation in Joanne. There was no longer a trace of anguish or of fear +in her eyes. Their purity and limpid beauty made him think of the rock +violets that grew high up on the mountains. Her lips and cheeks were +flushed, and the soft pressure of her hand again resting on his arm filled +him with the exquisite thrill of possession and joy. He did not speak of +Tête Jaune again until they reached the Otto tent-house, and then only to +assure her that he would call for her half an hour before the train was +ready to leave. + +As soon as possible after that he went to the telegraph office and sent a +long message to MacDonald. Among other things he told him to prepare their +cabin for a lady guest. He knew this would shock the old mountain wanderer, +but he also knew that Donald would follow his instructions in spite of +whatever alarm he might have. There were other women at Tête Jaune, the +wives of men he knew, to whom he might have taken Joanne. Under the +conditions, however, he believed his own cabin would be her best refuge, at +least for a day or so. In that time he could take some one into his +confidence, probably Blackton and his wife. In fact, as he thought the +circumstances over, he saw the necessity of confiding in the Blacktons that +very night. + +He left the station, growing a bit nervous. Was it right for him to take +Joanne to his cabin at all? He had a tremendous desire to do so, chiefly on +account of Quade. The cabin was a quarter of a mile in the bush, and he was +positive if Joanne was there that Quade, and perhaps Culver Rann, would +come nosing about. This would give him the opportunity of putting into +execution a plan which he had already arranged for himself and old +MacDonald. On the other hand, was this arrangement fair to Joanne, even +though it gave him the chance to square up accounts with Quade? + +He stopped abruptly, and faced the station. All at once there swept upon +him a realization of how blind he had been, and what a fool he had almost +made of himself. Blackton was one of the contractors who were working +miracles in the mountains. He was a friend who would fight for him if +necessary. Mrs. Blackton, who preferred to be on the firing line with her +husband than in her luxurious city home, was the leader of all that was +decent and womanly in Tête Jaune. Why not have these friends meet them at +the train and take Joanne direct to their house? Such recognition and +friendship would mean everything to Joanne. To take her to his cabin would +mean---- + +Inwardly he swore at himself as he hurried back to the station, and his +face burned hotly as he thought of the chance such a blunder on his part +would have given Quade and Culver Rann to circulate the stories with which +they largely played their scoundrelly game. He sent another and longer +telegram. This time it was to Blackton. + +He ate dinner with Stevens, who had his new outfit ready for the mountains. +It was two o'clock before he brought Joanne up to the station. She was +dressed now as he had first seen her when she entered Quade's place. A veil +covered her face. Through the gray film of it he caught the soft warm glow +of her eyes and the shimmer of gold-brown tendrils of her hair. And he knew +why she wore that veil. It set his heart beating swiftly--the fact that she +was trying to hide from all eyes but his own a beauty so pure and wonderful +that it made her uncomfortable when under the staring gaze of the Horde. + +The hand that rested on his arm he pressed closer to his side as they +walked up the station platform, and under his breath he laughed softly and +joyously as he felt the thrill of it. He spoke no word. Not until they were +in their seat in the coach did Joanne look at him after that pressure of +her hand, and then she did not speak. But in the veiled glow of her eyes +there was something that told him she understood--a light that was +wonderfully gentle and sweet. And yet, without words, she asked him to +keep within his soul the things that were pounding madly there for speech. + +As the train rolled on and the babble of voices about them joined the +crunching rumble of the wheels, he wanted to lean close to her and tell her +how a few hours had changed the world for him. And then, for a moment, her +eyes turned to him again, and he knew that it would be a sacrilege to give +voice to the things he wanted to say. For many minutes he was silent, +gazing with her upon the wild panorama of mountain beauty as it drifted +past the car window. A loud voice two seats ahead of them proclaimed that +they were about to make Templeton's Curve. The man was talking to his +companion. + +"They shot up a hundred thousand pounds of black powder an' dynamite to +make way for two hundred feet of steel on that curve," he explained in a +voice heard all over the car. "They say you could hear the explosion fifty +miles away. Jack Templeton was near-sighted, an' he didn't see a rock +coming down on him that was half as big as a house. I helped scrape up what +was left of 'im an' we planted him at this end of the curve. It's been +Templeton's Curve ever since. You'll see his grave--with a slab over it!" + +It was there almost as he spoke, marked by a white-painted cross in a +circle of whitewashed stones. John Aldous felt a sudden shiver pass through +his companion. She turned from the window. Through her veil he saw her lips +tighten. Until he left the car half an hour later the man in the second +seat ahead talked of Templeton's grave and a dozen other graves along the +right of way. He was a rock-hog, and a specialist on the subject of +graves. Inwardly Aldous cursed him roundly. He cursed him all the way to +Tête Jaune, for to him he attributed the change which had again come over +Joanne. + +This change she could only partly conceal from him under her veil. She +asked him many questions about Tête Jaune and the Blacktons, and tried to +take an interest in the scenery they were passing. In spite of this he +could see that she was becoming more and more nervous as they progressed +toward the end of their journey. He felt the slow dampening of his own joy, +the deadening clutch of yesterday at his heart. Twice she lifted her veil +for a moment and he saw she was pale and the tense lines had gathered about +her mouth again. There was something almost haggard in her look the second +time. + +In the early dusk of evening they arrived at Tête Jaune. Aldous waited +until the car had emptied itself before he rose from his seat. Joanne's +hand clutched at his arm as they walked down the aisle. He felt the fierce +pressure of her fingers in his flesh. On the car platform they paused for a +moment, and he felt her throbbing beside him. She had taken her hand from +his arm, and he turned suddenly. She had raised her veil. Her face was dead +white. And she was staring out over the sea of faces under them in a +strange questing way, and her breath came from between her slightly parted +lips as if she had been running. Amazed for the moment, John Aldous did not +move. Somewhere in that crowd _Joanne expected to find a face she knew!_ +The truth struck him dumb--made him inert and lifeless. He, too, stared as +if in a trance. And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazed +into fierce life. + +In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces of +all were turned toward them. One he recognized--a bloated, leering face +grinning devilishly at them. It was Quade! + +A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too, +had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for. It was not his +face that she had expected to see nor because of him that she had lifted +her veil for the mob! + +He stepped down from the car and gave her his hand. Her fingers clutched +his convulsively. And they were cold as the fingers of the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A moment later some one came surging through the crowd, and called Aldous +by name. It was Blackton. His thin, genial face with its little spiked +moustache rose above the sea of heads about him, and as he came he grinned +a welcome. + +"A beastly mob!" he exclaimed, as he gripped his friend's hand. "I'm sorry +I couldn't bring my wife nearer than the back platform." + +Aldous turned to Joanne. He was still half in a daze. His heart was choking +him with its swift and excited beating. Even as he introduced her to +Blackton the voice kept crying in his brain that she had expected to find +some one in this crowd whom she knew. For a space it was as if the Joanne +whom he had known had slipped away from him. She had told him about the +grave, but this other she had kept from him. Something that was almost +anger surged up in him. His face bore marks of the strain as he watched her +greet Blackton. In an instant, it seemed to him, she had regained a part of +her composure. Blackton saw nothing but the haggard lines about her eyes +and the deep pallor in her face, which he ascribed to fatigue. + +"You're tired, Miss Gray," he said. "It's a killing ride up from Miette +these days. If we can get through this mob we'll have supper within fifteen +minutes!" + +With a word to Aldous he began worming his long, lean body ahead of them. +An instant Joanne's face was very close to Aldous', so close that he felt +her breath, and a tendril of her hair touched his lips. In that instant her +eyes looked into his steadily, and he felt rush over him a sudden shame. If +she was seeking and expecting, it was to him more than ever that she was +now looking for protection. The haunting trouble in her eyes, their +entreaty, their shining faith in him told him that, and he was glad that +she had not seen his sudden fear and suspicion. She clung more closely to +him as they followed Blackton. Her little fingers held his arm as if she +were afraid some force might tear him from her. He saw that she was looking +quickly at the faces about them with that same questing mystery in her +search. + +At the thin outer edge of the crowd Blackton dropped back beside them. A +few steps more and they came to the end of the platform, where a buckboard +was waiting in the dim light of one of the station lamps. Blackton +introduced Joanne, and assisted her into the seat beside his wife. + +"We'll leave you ladies to become acquainted while we rustle the baggage," +he said. "Got the checks, Aldous?" + +Joanne had given Aldous two checks on the train, and he handed them to +Blackton. Together they made their way to the baggage-room. + +"Thought Miss Gray would have some luggage, so I had one of my men come +with another team," he explained. "We won't have to wait. I'll give him the +checks." + +Before they returned to the buckboard, Aldous halted his friend. + +"I couldn't say much in that telegram," he said. "If Miss Gray wasn't a +bit tired and unstrung I'd let her explain. I want you to tell Mrs. +Blackton that she has come to Tête Jaune on a rather unpleasant mission, +old man. Nothing less than to attend to the grave of a--a near relative." + +"I regret that--I regret it very much," replied Blackton, flinging away the +match he had lighted without touching it to his cigar. "I guessed something +was wrong. She's welcome at our place, Aldous--for as long as she remains +in Tête Jaune. Perhaps I knew this relative. If I can assist you--or +her----" + +"He died before the steel came," said Aldous. "FitzHugh was his name. Old +Donald and I are going to take her to the grave. Miss Gray is an old friend +of mine," he lied boldly. "We want to start at dawn. Will that be too much +trouble for you and your wife?" + +"No trouble at all," declared Blackton. "We've got a Chinese cook who's +more like an owl than a human. How will a four o'clock breakfast suit you?" + +"Splendidly!" + +As they went on, the contractor said: + +"I carried your word to MacDonald. Hunted him down out in the bush. He is +very anxious to see you. He said he would not be at the depot, but that you +must not fail him. He's kept strangely under cover of late. Curious old +ghost, isn't he?" + +"The strangest man in the mountains," said Aldous "And, when you come to +know him, the most lovable. We're going North together." + +This time it was Blackton who stopped, with a hand on his companion's arm. +A short distance from them they could see the buckboard in the light of +the station lamp. + +"Has old Donald written you lately?" he asked. + +"No. He says he hasn't written a letter in twenty years." + +Blackton hesitated. + +"Then you haven't heard of his--accident?" + +The strange look in the contractor's face as he lighted a cigar made John +Aldous catch him sharply by the arm. + +"What do you mean?" + +"He was shot. I happened to be in Dr. Brady's office when he dragged +himself in, late at night. Doc got the bullet out of his shoulder. It +wasn't a bad wound. The old man swore it was an accident, and asked us to +say nothing about it. We haven't. But I've been wondering. Old Donald said +he was careless with his own pistol. But the fact is, Aldous--_he was shot +from behind!_" + +"The deuce you say!" + +"There was no perforation except from _behind_. In some way the bullet had +spent itself before it reached him. Otherwise it would have killed him." + +For a moment Aldous stared in speechless amazement into Blackton's face. + +"When did this happen?" he asked then. + +"Three days ago. Since then I have not seen old Donald until to-night. +Almost by accident I met him out there in the timber. I delivered the +telegram you sent him. After he had read it I showed him mine. He scribbled +something on a bit of paper, folded it, and pinned it with a porcupine +quill. I've been mighty curious, but I haven't pulled out that quill. Here +it is." + +From his pocket he produced the note and gave it to Aldous. + +"I'll read it a little later," said Aldous. "The ladies may possibly become +anxious about us." + +He dropped it in his pocket as he thanked Blackton for the trouble he had +taken in finding MacDonald. As he climbed into the front seat of the +buckboard his eyes met Joanne's. He was glad that in a large measure she +had recovered her self-possession. She smiled at him as they drove off, and +there was something in the sweet tremble of her lips that made him almost +fancy she was asking his forgiveness for having forgotten herself. Her +voice sounded more natural to him as she spoke to Mrs. Blackton. The +latter, a plump little blue-eyed woman with dimples and golden hair, was +already making her feel at home. She leaned over and placed a hand on her +husband's shoulder. + +"Let's drive home by way of town, Paul," she suggested. "It's only a little +farther, and I'm quite sure Miss Gray will be interested in our Great White +Way of the mountains. And I'm crazy to see that bear you were telling me +about," she added. + +Nothing could have suited Aldous more than this suggestion. He was sure +that Quade, following his own and Culver Rann's old methods, had already +prepared stories about Joanne, and he not only wanted Quade's friends--but +all of Tête Jaune as well--to see Joanne in the company of Mrs. Paul +Blackton and her husband. And this was a splendid opportunity, for the +night carnival was already beginning. + +"The bear is worth seeing," said Blackton, turning his team in the +direction of the blazing light of the half-mile street that was the +Broadway of Tête Jaune. "And the woman who rides him is worth seeing, too," +he chuckled. "He's a big fellow--and she plays the Godiva act. Rides him up +and down the street with her hair down, collecting dimes and quarters and +half dollars as she goes." + +A minute later the length of the street swept out ahead of them. It is +probable that the world had never before seen a street just like this +Broadway in Tête Jaune--the pleasure Mecca of five thousand workers along +the line of steel. There had been great "camps" in the building of other +railroads, but never a city in the wilderness like this--a place that had +sprung up like magic and which, a few months later, was doomed to disappear +as quickly. For half a mile it blazed out ahead of them, two garishly +lighted rows of shacks, big tents, log buildings, and rough board +structures, with a rough, wide street between. + +To-night Tête Jaune was like a blazing fire against the darkness of the +forest and mountain beyond. A hundred sputtering "jacks" sent up columns of +yellow flame in front of places already filled with the riot and tumult of +the night. A thousand lamps and coloured lanterns flashed like fireflies +along the way, and under them the crowd had gathered, and was flowing back +and forth. It was a weird and fantastic sight--this one strange and almost +uncanny street that was there largely for the play and the excitement of +men. + +Aldous turned to Joanne. He knew what this town meant. It was the first and +the last of its kind, and its history would never be written. The world +outside the mountains knew nothing of it. Like the men who made up its +transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past. Even the +mountains would forget it. But more than once, as he had stood a part of +it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the +things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden +tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy. He found something of +his own thought in Joanne's eyes. + +"There isn't much to it," he said, "but to-night, if you made the hunt, you +could find men of eighteen or twenty nationalities in that street." + +"And a little more besides," laughed Blackton. "If you could write the +complete story of how Tête Jaune has broken the law, Aldous, it would fill +a volume as big as Peggy's family Bible!" + +"And after all, it's funny," said Peggy Blackton. "There!" she cried +suddenly. "Isn't _that_ funny?" + +The glare and noisy life were on both sides of them now. Half a dozen +phonographs were going. From up the street came the softer strains of a +piano, and from in between the shrieking notes of bagpipe. Peggy Blackton +was pointing to a brilliantly lighted, black-tarpaulined shop. Huge white +letters on its front announced that Lady Barbers were within. They could +see two of them at work through the big window. And they were pretty. The +place was crowded with men. Men were waiting outside. + +"Paul says they charge a dollar for a haircut and fifty cents for a shave," +explained Peggy Blackton. "And the man over there across the street is +going broke because he can't get business at fifteen cents a shave. _Isn't_ +it funny?" + +As they went on Aldous searched the street for Quade. Several times he +turned to the back seat, and always he found Joanne's eyes questing in that +strange way for the some one whom she expected to see. Mrs. Blackton was +pointing out lighted places, and explaining things as they passed, but he +knew that in spite of her apparent attention Joanne heard only a part of +what she was saying. In that crowd she hoped--or feared--to find a certain +face. And again Aldous told himself that it was not Quade's face. + +Near the end of the street a crowd was gathering, and here, for a moment, +Blackton stopped his team within fifty feet of the objects of attraction. A +slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was standing beside a +huge brown bear. Her sleek black hair, shining as if it had been oiled, +fell in curls about her shoulders. Her rouged lips were smiling. Even at +that distance her black eyes sparkled like diamonds. She had evidently just +finished taking up a collection, for she was fastening the cord of a silken +purse about her neck. In another moment she bestrode the bear, the crowd +fell apart, and as the onlookers broke into a roar of applause the big +beast lumbered slowly up the street with its rider. + +"One of Culver Rann's friends," said Blackton _sotto voce_, as he drove on. +"She takes in a hundred a night if she makes a cent!" + +[Illustration: A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider.] + +Blackton's big log bungalow was close to the engineers' camp half a mile +distant from the one lighted street and the hundreds of tents and shacks +that made up the residential part of the town. Not until they were inside, +and Peggy Blackton had disappeared with Joanne for a few moments, did +Aldous take old Donald MacDonald's note from his pocket. He pulled out the +quill, unfolded the bit of paper, and read the few crudely written words +the mountain man had sent him. Blackton turned in time to catch the sudden +amazement in his face. Crushing the note in his hand, Aldous looked at the +other, his mouth tightening. + +"You must help me make excuses, old man," he said quietly. "It will seem +strange to them if I do not stay for supper. But--it is impossible. I must +see old Donald as quickly as I can get to him." + +His manner more than his words kept Blackton from urging him to remain. The +contractor stared at him for a moment, his own eyes growing harder and more +direct. + +"It's about the shooting," he said. "If you want me to go with you, +Aldous----" + +"Thanks. That will be unnecessary." + +Peggy Blackton and Joanne were returning. Aldous turned toward them as they +entered the room. With the note still in his hand he repeated to them what +he had told Blackton--that he had received word which made it immediately +urgent for him to go to MacDonald. He shook hands with the Blacktons, +promising to be on hand for the four o'clock breakfast. + +Joanne followed him to the door and out upon the veranda. For a moment they +were alone, and now her eyes were wide and filled with fear as he clasped +her hands closely in his own. + +"I saw him," she whispered, her fingers tightening convulsively. "I saw +that man--Quade--at the station. He followed us up the street. Twice I +looked behind--and saw him. I am afraid--afraid to let you go back there. I +believe he is somewhere out there now--waiting for you!" + +She was frightened, trembling; and her fear for him, the fear in her +shining eyes, in her throbbing breath, in the clasp of her fingers, sent +through John Aldous a joy that almost made him free her hands and crush her +in his arms in the ecstasy of that wonderful moment. Then Peggy Blackton +and her husband appeared in the door. He released her hands, and stepped +out into the gloom. The cheery good-nights of the Blacktons followed him. +And Joanne's good-night was in her eyes--following him until he was gone, +filled with their entreaty and their fear. + +A hundred yards distant, where the trail split to lead to the camp of the +engineers, there was a lantern on a pole. Here Aldous paused, out of sight +of the Blackton bungalow, and in the dim light read again MacDonald's note. + +In a cramped and almost illegible hand the old wanderer of the mountains +had written: + + Don't go to cabin. Culver Rann waiting to kill you. Don't show + yorself in town. Cum to me as soon as you can on trail striking + north to Loon Lake. Watch yorself. Be ready with yor gun. + + DONALD MacDONALD. + +Aldous shoved the note in his pocket and slipped back out of the +lantern-glow into deep shadow. For several minutes he stood silent and +listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +As John Aldous stood hidden in the darkness, listening for the sound of a +footstep, Joanne's words still rang in his ears. "I believe he is out +there--waiting for you," she had said; and, chuckling softly in the gloom, +he told himself that nothing would give him more satisfaction than an +immediate and material proof of her fear. In the present moment he felt a +keen desire to confront Quade face to face out there in the lantern-glow, +and settle with the mottled beast once for all. The fact that Quade had +seen Joanne as the guest of the Blacktons hardened him in his +determination. Quade could no longer be in possible error regarding her. He +knew that she had friends, and that she was not of the kind who could be +made or induced to play his game and Culver Rann's. If he followed her +after this---- + +Aldous gritted his teeth and stared up and down the black trail. Five +minutes passed and he heard nothing that sounded like a footstep, and he +saw no moving shadow in the gloom. Slowly he continued along the road until +he came to where a narrow pack-trail swung north and east through the thick +spruce and balsam in the direction of Loon Lake. Remembering MacDonald's +warning, he kept his pistol in his hand. The moon was just beginning to +rise over the shoulder of a mountain, and after a little it lighted up the +more open spaces ahead of him. Now and then he paused, and turned to +listen. As he progressed with slowness and caution, his mind worked +swiftly. He knew that Donald MacDonald was the last man in the world to +write such a message as he had sent him through Blackton unless there had +been a tremendous reason for it. But why, he asked himself again and again, +should Culver Rann want to kill him? Rann knew nothing of Joanne. He had +not seen her. And surely Quade had not had time to formulate a plot with +his partner before MacDonald wrote his warning. Besides, an attempt had +been made to assassinate the old mountaineer! MacDonald had not warned him +against Quade. He had told him to guard himself against Rann. And what +reason could this Culver Rann have for doing him injury? The more he +thought of it the more puzzled he became. And then, in a flash, the +possible solution of it all came to him. + +Had Culver Rann discovered the secret mission on which he and the old +mountaineer were going into the North? Had he learned of the gold--where it +was to be found? And was their assassination the first step in a plot to +secure possession of the treasure? + +The blood in Aldous' veins ran faster. He gripped his pistol harder. More +closely he looked into the moonlit gloom of the trail ahead of him. He +believed that he had guessed the meaning of MacDonald's warning. It was the +gold! More than once thought of the yellow treasure far up in the North had +thrilled him, but never as it thrilled him now. Was the old tragedy of it +to be lived over again? Was it again to play its part in a terrible drama +of men's lives, as it had played it more than forty years ago? The gold! +The gold that for nearly half a century had lain with the bones of its +dead, alone with its terrible secret, alone until Donald MacDonald had +found it again! He had not told Joanne the story of it, the appalling and +almost unbelievable tragedy of it. He had meant to do so. But they had +talked of other things. He had meant to tell her that it was not the gold +itself that was luring him far to the north--that it was not the gold alone +that was taking Donald MacDonald back to it. + +And now, as he stood for a moment listening to the low sweep of the wind in +the spruce-tops, it seemed to him that the night was filled with whispering +voices of that long-ago--and he shivered, and held his breath. A cloud had +drifted under the moon. For a few moments it was pitch dark. The fingers of +his hand dug into the rough bark of a spruce. He did not move. It was then +that he heard something above the caressing rustle of the wind in the +spruce-tops. + +It came to him faintly, from full half a mile deeper in the black forest +that reached down to the bank of the Frazer. It was the night call of an +owl--one of the big gray owls that turned white as the snow in winter. +Mentally he counted the notes in the call. One, two, three, _four_--and a +flood of relief swept over him. It was MacDonald. They had used that signal +in their hunting, when they had wished to locate each other without +frightening game. Always there were three notes in the big gray owl's +quavering cry. The fourth was human. He put his hands to his mouth and sent +back an answer, emphasizing the fourth note. The light breeze had died down +for a moment, and Aldous heard the old mountaineer's reply as it floated +faintly back to him through the forest. Continuing to hold his pistol, he +went on, this time more swiftly. + +MacDonald did not signal again. The moon was climbing rapidly into the sky, +and with each passing minute the night was becoming lighter. He had gone +half a mile when he stopped again and signalled softly. MacDonald's voice +answered, so near that for an instant the automatic flashed in the +moonlight. Aldous stepped out where the trail had widened into a small open +spot. Half a dozen paces from him, in the bright flood of the moon, stood +Donald MacDonald. + +The night, the moon-glow, the tense attitude of his waiting added to the +weirdness of the picture which the old wanderer of the mountains made as +Aldous faced him. MacDonald was tall; some trick of the night made him +appear almost unhumanly tall as he stood in the centre of that tiny moonlit +amphitheatre. His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders drooped a +little, for he was old. A thick, shaggy beard fell in a silvery sheen over +his breast. His hair, gray as the underwing of the owl whose note he +forged, straggled in uncut disarray from under the drooping rim of a +battered and weatherworn hat. His coat was of buckskin, and it was short at +the sleeves--four inches too short; and the legs of his trousers were cut +off between the knees and the ankles, giving him a still greater appearance +of height. + +In the crook of his arm MacDonald held a rifle, a strange-looking, +long-barrelled rifle of a type a quarter of a century old. And Donald +MacDonald, in the picture he made, was like his gun, old and gray and +ghostly, as if he had risen out of some graveyard of the past to warm +himself in the yellow splendour of the moon. But in the grayness and +gauntness of him there was something that was mightier than the strength of +youth. He was alert. In the crook of his arm there was caution. His eyes +were as keen as the eyes of an animal. His shoulders spoke of a strength +but little impaired by the years. Ghostly gray beard, ghostly gray hair, +haunting eyes that gleamed, all added to the strange and weird +impressiveness of the man as he stood before Aldous. And when he spoke, his +voice had in it the deep, low, cavernous note of a partridge's drumming. + +"I'm glad you've come, Aldous," he said. "I've been waiting ever since the +train come in. I was afraid you'd go to the cabin!" + +Aldous stepped forth and gripped the old mountaineer's outstretched hand. +There was intense relief in Donald's eyes. + +"I got a little camp back here in the bush," he went on, nodding riverward. +"It's safer 'n the shack these days. Yo're sure--there ain't no one +following?" + +"Quite certain," assured Aldous. "Look here, MacDonald--what in thunder has +happened? Don't continue my suspense! Who shot you? Why did you warn me?" + +Deep in his beard the old hunter laughed. + +"Same fellow as would have shot you, I guess," he answered. "They made a +bad job of it, Johnny, an awful bad job, an' mebby there'd been a better +man layin' for you!" + +He was pulling Aldous in the bush as he spoke. For ten minutes he dived on +ahead through a jungle in which there was no trail. Suddenly he turned, +led the way around the edge of a huge mass of rock, and paused a moment +later before a small smouldering fire. Against the face of a gigantic +boulder was a balsam shelter. A few cooking utensils were scattered about. +It was evident that MacDonald had been living here for several days. + +"Looks as though I'd run away, don't it, Johnny?" he asked, laughing in his +curious, chuckling way again. "An' so I did, boy. From the mountain up +there I've been watching things through my telescope--been keepin' quiet +since Doc pulled the bullet out. I've been layin' for the Breed. I wanted +him to think I'd vamoosed. I'm goin' to kill him!" + +He had squatted down before the fire, his long rifle across his knees, and +spoke as quietly as though he was talking of a partridge or a squirrel +instead of a human being. He wormed a hand into one of his pockets and +produced a small dark object which he handed to Aldous The other felt an +uncanny chill as it touched his fingers. It was a mis-shapened bullet. + +"Doc gave me the lead," continued MacDonald coolly, beginning to slice a +pipeful of tobacco from a tar-black plug. "It come from Joe's gun. I've +hunted with him enough to know his bullet. He fired through the window of +the cabin. If it hadn't been for the broom handle--just the end of it +stickin' up"--he shrugged his gaunt shoulders as he stuffed the tobacco +into the bowl of his pipe--"I'd been dead!" he finished tersely. + +"You mean that Joe----" + +"Has sold himself to Culver Rann!" exclaimed MacDonald. He sprang to his +feet. For the first time he showed excitement. His eyes blazed with +repressed rage. A hand gripped the barrel of his rifle as if to crush it. +"He's sold himself to Culver Rann!" he repeated. "He's sold him our secret. +He's told him where the gold is, Johnny! He's bargained to guide Rann an' +his crowd to it! An' first--they're goin' to kill _us!_" + +With a low whistle Aldous took off his hat. He ran a hand through his +blond-gray hair. Then he replaced his hat and drew two cigars from his +pocket. MacDonald accepted one. Aldous' eyes were glittering; his lips were +smiling. + +"They are, are they, Donald? They're going to kill us?" + +"They're goin' to try," amended the old hunter, with another curious +chuckle in his ghostly beard. "They're goin' to try, Johnny. That's why I +told you not to go to the cabin. I wasn't expecting you for a week. +To-morrow I was goin' to start on a hike for Miette. I been watching +through my telescope from the mountain up there. I see Quade come in this +morning on a hand-car. Twice I see him and Rann together. Then I saw +Blackton hike out into the bush. I was worrying about you an' wondered if +he had any word. So I laid for him on the trail--an' I guess it was lucky. +I ain't been able to set my eyes on Joe. I looked for hours through the +telescope--an' I couldn't find him. He's gone, or Culver Rann is keeping +him out of sight." + +For several moments Aldous looked at his companion in silence. Then he +said: + +"You're sure of all this, are you, Donald? You have good proof--that Joe +has turned traitor?" + +"I've been suspicious of him ever since we come down from the North," +spoke MacDonald slowly. "I watched him--night an' day. I was afraid he'd +get a grubstake an' start back alone. Then I saw him with Culver Rann. It +was late. I heard 'im leave the shack, an' I followed. He went to Rann's +house--an' Rann was expecting him. Three times I followed him to Culver +Rann's house. I knew what was happening then, an' I planned to get him back +in the mountains on a hunt, an' kill him. But I was too late. The shot came +through the window. Then he disappeared. An'--Culver Rann is getting an +outfit together! Twenty head of horses, with grub for three months!" + +"The deuce! And our outfit? Is it ready?" + +"To the last can o' beans!" + +"And your plan, Donald?" + +All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as he +came nearer to Aldous. + +"Get out of Tête Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice that +quivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into the +mountains with our outfit--far enough back--and then wait!" + +"Wait?" + +"Yes--wait. If they follow us--_fight!_" + +Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily they +looked into each other's eyes. + +Then John Aldous spoke: + +"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night--it is +impossible." + +The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop came +into MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despair +settled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's hand +more firmly. + +"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight," he said quickly. "Only we've +got to plan differently. Sit down, Donald. Something has been happening to +me. And I'm going to tell you about it." + +A little back from the fire they seated themselves, and Aldous told Donald +MacDonald about Joanne. + +He began at the beginning, from the moment his eyes first saw her as she +entered Quade's place. He left nothing out. He told how she had come into +his life, and how he intended to fight to keep her from going out of it. He +told of his fears, his hopes, the mystery of their coming to Tête Jaune, +and how Quade had preceded them to plot the destruction of the woman he +loved. He described her as she had stood that morning, like a radiant +goddess in the sun; and when he came to that he leaned nearer, and said +softly: + +"And when I saw her there, Donald, with her hair streaming about her like +that, I thought of the time you told me of that other woman--the woman of +years and years ago--and how you, Donald, used to look upon her in the sun, +and rejoice in your possession. Her spirit has been with you always. You +have told me how for nearly fifty years you have followed it over these +mountains. And this woman means as much to me. If she should die to-night +her spirit would live with me in that same way. You understand, Donald. I +can't go into the mountains to-night. God knows when I can go--now. But +you----" + +MacDonald had risen. He turned his face to the black wall of the forest. +Aldous thought he saw a sudden quiver pass through the great, bent +shoulders. + +"And I," said MacDonald slowly, "will have the horses ready for you at +dawn. We will fight this other fight--later." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +For an hour after Donald MacDonald had pledged himself to accompany Joanne +and Aldous on their pilgrimage to the grave in the Saw Tooth Range the two +men continued to discuss the unusual complications in which they had +suddenly become involved, and at the same time prepared themselves a supper +of bacon and coffee over the fire. They agreed upon a plan of action with +one exception. Aldous was determined to return to the town, arguing there +was a good strategic reason for showing himself openly and without fear. +MacDonald opposed this apprehensively. + +"Better lay quiet until morning," he expostulated. "You'd better listen to +me, an' do that, Johnny. I've got something in my shoulder that tells me +you'd better!" + +In the face of the old hunter's misgiving, Aldous prepared to leave. It was +nearly ten o'clock when he set back in the direction of Tête Jaune, Donald +accompanying him as far as the moonlit amphitheatre in the forest. There +they separated, and Aldous went on alone. + +He believed that Joanne and the Blacktons would half expect him to return +to the bungalow after he had seen MacDonald. He was sure that Blackton, at +least, would look for him until quite late. The temptation to take +advantage of their hospitality was great, especially as it would bring him +in the company of Joanne again. On the other hand, he was certain that this +first night in Tête Jaune held very large possibilities for him. The +detective instinct in him was roused, and his adventurous spirit was alive +for action. First of all, he wanted proof of what MacDonald had told him. +That an attempt had been made to assassinate the old mountaineer he did not +for an instant doubt. But had Joe DeBar, the half-breed, actually betrayed +them? Had he sold himself to Culver Rann, and did Rann hold the key to the +secret expedition they had planned into the North? He did not, at first, +care to see Rann. He made up his mind that if he did meet him he would stop +and chat casually with him, as though he had heard and seen nothing to +rouse his suspicions. He particularly wanted to find DeBar; and, next to +DeBar, Quade himself. + +The night carnival was at its height when Aldous re-entered the long, +lighted street. From ten until eleven was the liveliest hour of the night. +Even the restaurants and soup-kitchens were crowded then. He strolled +slowly down the street until he came to a little crowd gathered about the +bear equestrienne. The big canvas dance-hall a few doors away had lured +from her most of her admirers by this time, and Aldous found no difficulty +in reaching the inner circle. He looked first for the half-breed. Failing +to find him, he looked at the woman, who stood only a few feet from him. +Her glossy black curls were a bit dishevelled, and the excitement of the +night had added to the vivid colouring of her rouged lips and cheeks. Her +body was sleek and sinuous in its silken vesture; arms and shoulders were +startlingly white; and when she turned, facing Aldous, her black eyes +flashed fires of deviltry and allurement. + +For a moment he stared into her face. If he had not been looking closely he +would not have caught the swift change that shot into the siren-like play +of her orbs. It was almost instantaneous. Her slow-travelling glance +stopped as she saw him. He saw the quick intake of her breath, a sudden +compression of her lips, the startled, searching scrutiny of a pair of eyes +from which, for a moment, all the languor and coquetry of her trade were +gone. Then she passed him, smiling again, nodding, sweeping a hand and arm +effectively through her handsome curls as she flung a shapely limb over the +broad back of the bear. In a garish sort of way the woman was beautiful, +and this night, as on all others, her beauty had nearly filled the silken +coin-bag suspended from her neck. As she rode down the street Aldous +recalled Blackton's words: She was a friend of Culver Rann's. He wondered +if this fact accounted for the strangeness of the look she had given him. + +He passed on to the dance-hall. It was crowded, mostly with men. But here +and there, like so many faces peering forth from living graves, he saw the +Little Sisters of Tête Jaune Cache. Outnumbered ten to one, their voices +rang out in shrill banter and delirious laughter above the rumble of men. +At the far end, a fiddle, a piano, and a clarinet were squealing forth +music. The place smelled strongly of whisky. It always smelled of that, for +most of the men who sought amusement here got their whisky in spite of the +law. There were rock-hogs from up the line, and rock-hogs from down the +line, men of all nationalities and of almost all ages; teamsters, +trail-cutters, packers, and rough-shod navvies; men whose daily task was to +play with dynamite and giant powder; steel-men, tie-men, and men who +drilled into the hearts of mountains. More than once John Aldous had looked +upon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wild +revelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia would +again be the builders of an empire. The thin, hollow-cheeked faces that +passed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mind +the strength of the picture. They were but moths, fluttering about in their +own doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achieve +destruction. + +For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, and +nowhere did he see DeBar. He dropped out, and continued leisurely along the +lighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white striped +soup-tent. At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as the +dance-hall. Aldous knew Lovak, the Hungarian. + +Through Lovak he had found the key that had unlocked for him many curious +and interesting things associated with that powerful Left Arm of the Empire +Builders--the Slav. Except for a sprinkling of Germans, a few Italians, and +now and then a Greek or Swiss, only the Slavs filled Lovak's place!--Slavs +from all the Russias and the nations south: the quick and chattering Polak; +the thick-set, heavy-jowled Croatian; the silent and dangerous-eyed +Lithuanian. All came in for Lovak's wonderful soup, which he sold in big +yellow bowls at ten cents a bowl--soup of barley, rice, and cabbage, of +beef and mutton, of everything procurable out of which soup could be made, +and, whether of meat or vegetable, smelling to heaven of garlic. + +Fifty men were eating when Aldous went in, devouring their soup with the +utter abandon and joy of the Galician, so that the noise they made was like +the noise of fifty pigs at fifty troughs. Now and then DeBar, the +half-breed, came here for soup, and Aldous searched quickly for him. He was +turning to go when his friend, Lovak, came to him. No, Lovak had not seen +DeBar. But he had news. That day the authorities--the police--had +confiscated twenty dressed hogs, and in each porcine carcass they had found +four-quart bottles of whisky, artistically imbedded in the leaf-lard fat. +The day before those same authorities had confiscated a barrel of +"kerosene." They were becoming altogether too officious, Lovak thought. + +Aldous went on. He looked in at a dozen restaurants, and twice as many +soft-drink emporiums, where phonographs were worked until they were cracked +and dizzy. He stopped at a small tobacco shop, and entered to buy himself +some cigars. There was one other customer ahead of him. He was lighting a +cigar, and the light of a big hanging lamp flashed on a diamond ring. Over +his sputtering match his eyes met those of John Aldous. They were dark +eyes, neither brown nor black, but dark, with the keenness and strange +glitter of a serpent's. He wore a small, clipped moustache; his hands were +white; he was a man whom one might expect to possess the _sang froid_ of a +devil in any emergency. For barely an instant he hesitated in the operation +of lighting his cigar as he saw Aldous. Then he nodded. + +"Hello, John Aldous," he said. + +"Good evening, Culver Rann," replied Aldous. + +For a moment his nerves had tingled--the next they were like steel. Culver +Rann's teeth gleamed. Aldous smiled back. They were cold, hard, rapierlike +glances. Each understood now that the other was a deadly enemy, for Quade's +enemies were also Culver Rann's. Aldous moved carelessly to the glass case +in which were the cigars. With the barest touch of one of his slim white +hands Culver Rann stopped him. + +"Have one of mine, Aldous," he invited, opening a silver case filled with +cigars. "We've never had the pleasure of smoking together, you know." + +"Never," said Aldous, accepting one of the cigars. "Thanks." + +As he lighted it, their eyes met again. Aldous turned to the case. + +"Half a dozen 'Noblemen,'" he said to the man behind the counter; then, to +Rann: "Will you have one on me?" + +"With pleasure," said Rann. He added, smiling straight into the other's +eyes, "What are you doing up here, Aldous? After local colour?" + +"Perhaps. The place interests me." + +"It's a lively town." + +"Decidedly. And I understand that you've played an important part in the +making of it," replied Aldous carelessly. + +For a flash Rann's eyes darkened, and his mouth hardened, then his white +teeth gleamed again. He had caught the insinuation, and he had scarcely +been able to ward off the shot. + +"I've tried to do my small share," he admitted. "If you're after local +colour for your books, Aldous, I possibly may be able to assist you--if +you're in town long." + +"Undoubtedly you could," said Aldous. "I think you could tell me a great +deal that I would like to know, Rann. But--will you?" + +There was a direct challenge in his coldly smiling eyes. + +"Yes, I think I shall be quite pleased to do so," said Rann. +"Especially--if you are long in town." There was an odd emphasis on those +last words. + +He moved toward the door. + +"And if you are here very long," he added, his eyes gleaming significantly, +"it is possible you may have experiences of your own which would make very +interesting reading if they ever got into print. Good-night, Aldous!" + +For two or three minutes after Rann had gone Aldous loitered in the tobacco +shop. Then he went out. All at once it struck him that he should have kept +his eyes on Quade's partner. He should have followed him. With the hope of +seeing him again he walked up and down the street. It was eleven o'clock +when he went into Big Ben's pool-room. Five minutes later he came out just +as a woman hurried past him, carrying with her a strong scent of perfume. +It was the Lady of the Bear. She was in a street dress now, her glossy +curls still falling loose about her--probably homeward bound after her +night's harvest. It struck Aldous that the hour was early for her +retirement, and that she seemed somewhat in a hurry. + +The woman was going in the direction of Rann's big log bungalow, which was +built well out of town toward the river. She had not seen him as he stood +in the pool-room doorway, and before she had passed out of sight he was +following her. There were a dozen branch trails and "streets" on the way to +Rann's, and into the gloom of some one of these the woman disappeared, so +that Aldous lost her entirely. He was not disappointed when he found she +had left the main trail. + +Five minutes later he stood close to Rann's house. From the side on which +he had approached it was dark. No gleam of light showed through the +windows. Slowly he walked around the building, and stopped suddenly on the +opposite side. Here a closely drawn curtain was illuminated by a glow from +within. Cautiously Aldous made his way along the log wall of the house +until he came to the window. At one side the curtain had caught against +some object, leaving perhaps a quarter of an inch of space through which +the light shone. Aldous brought his eyes on a level with this space. + +A half of the room came within his vision. Directly in front of him, +lighted by a curiously shaped iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, was a +dull red mahogany desk-table. At one side of this, partly facing him, was +Culver Rann. Opposite him sat Quade. + +Rann was speaking, while Quade, with his bullish shoulders hunched forward +and his fleshy red neck, rolling over the collar of his coat, leaned across +the table in a tense and listening attitude. With his eyes glued to the +aperture, Aldous strained his ears to catch what Rann was saying. He heard +only the low and unintelligible monotone of his voice. A mocking smile was +accompanying Rann's words. To-night, as at all times, this hawk who preyed +upon human lives was immaculate. In all ways but one he was the antithesis +of the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyed +carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in +his cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little +moustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands, +as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, on +the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman. +Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain +and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous +men in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool and +suave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quade +lacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminate +immaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal. + +Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. He +struck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled. +And John Aldous slipped away from the window. + +His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket that +held his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behind +Rann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He was +sure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald--and +Joanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would be +three quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door was +an inspiration. + +Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the door +and found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch at +a time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was a +second closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. He +closed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of air +or a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, he +began to open the second door. + +An inch at first, then two inches, three inches--a foot--he worked the door +inward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to the +floor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open door +he saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted a +fresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with a +banter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating. + +"You amaze me," Rann was saying. "You amaze me utterly. You've gone +mad--mad as a rock-rabbit, Quade! Do you mean to tell me you're on the +square when you offer to turn over a half of your share in the gold if I +help you to get this woman?" + +"I do," replied Quade thickly. "I mean just that! And we'll put it down in +black an' white--here, now. You fix the papers, same as any other deal, and +I'll sign!" + +For a moment Culver Rann did not reply. He leaned back in his chair, thrust +the thumbs of his white hands in his vest, and sent a cloud of smoke above +his head. Then he looked at Quade, a gleam of humour in his eyes. + +"Nothing like a woman for turning a man's head soft," he chuckled. "Nothing +in the world like it, 'pon my word, Quade. First it was DeBar. I don't +believe we'd got him if he hadn't seen Marie riding her bear. Marie and +her curls and her silk tights, Quade--s'elp me, it wouldn't have surprised +me so much if you'd fallen in love with _her!_ And over this other woman +you're as mad as Joe is over Marie. At first sight he was ready to sell his +soul for her. So--I gave Marie to him. And now, for some other woman, +you're just as anxious to surrender a half of your share of what we've +bought through Marie. Good heaven, man, if you were in love with Marie----" + +"Damn Marie!" growled Quade. "I know the time when you were bugs over her +yourself, Rann. It wasn't so long ago. If I'd looked at her then----" + +"Of course, not then," interrupted Rann smilingly. "That would have been +impolite, Quade, and not at all in agreement with the spirit of our +brotherly partnership. And, you must admit, Marie is a devilish +good-looking girl. I've surrendered her only for a brief spell to DeBar. +After he has taken us to the gold--why, the poor idiot will probably have +been sufficiently happy to----" + +He paused, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. + +"--go into cold storage," finished Quade. + +"Exactly." + +Again Quade leaned over the table, and for a moment there was silence, a +silence in which Aldous thought the pounding of his heart must betray him. +He lay motionless on the floor. The nails of his fingers dug into the bare +wood. Under the palm of his right hand lay his automatic. + +Then Quade spoke. There must have been more in his face than was spoken in +his words, for Culver Rann took the cigar from between his lips, and a +light that was deadly serious slowly filled his eyes. + +"Rann, we'll talk business!" Quade's voice was harsh, deep, and quivering. +"I want this woman. I may be a fool, but I'm going to have her. I might get +her alone, but we've always done things together--an' so I made you that +proposition. It ain't a hard job. It's one of the easiest jobs we ever had. +Only that fool of a writer is in the way--an' he's got to go anyway. We've +got to get rid of him on account of the gold, him an' MacDonald. We've got +that planned. An' I've showed you how we can get the woman, an' no one ever +know. Are you in on this with me?" + +Culver Rann's reply was as quick and sharp as a pistol shot. + +"I am." + +For another moment there was silence. Then Quade asked: + +"Any need of writin', Culver?" + +"No. There can't be a written agreement in this deal because--it's +dangerous. There won't be much said about old MacDonald. But questions, a +good many of them, will be asked about this man Aldous. As for the +woman----" Rann shrugged his shoulders with a sinister smile. "She will +disappear like the others," he finished. "No one will ever get on to that. +If she doesn't make a pal like Marie--after a time, why----" + +Again Aldous saw that peculiar shrug of his shoulders. + +Quade's head nodded on his thick neck. + +"Of course, I agree to that," he said. "After a time. But most of 'em have +come over, ain't they, Culver? Eh? Most of 'em have," he chuckled coarsely. +"When you see her you won't call me a fool for going dippy over her, +Culver. And she'll come round all right after she's gone through what we've +got planned for her. I'll make a pal of her!" + +In that moment, as he listened to the gloating passion and triumph in +Quade's brutal voice, something broke in the brain of John Aldous. It +filled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought or +plan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a single +desire--the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged through +him, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth in +animal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that the +others did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hear +the slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol. + +For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensed +the words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to kill +them. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that he +might kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. He +wanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment when +they would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. He +would give them that one moment of life--just that one. Then he would kill. + +With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room. + +"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself +there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver +Rann. The latter sat stunned. Not the movement of a finger broke the +stonelike immobility of his attitude. His eyes were like two dark coals +gazing steadily as a serpent's over Quade's hunched shoulders and bowed +head. Quade seemed as if frozen on the point of speaking to Rann. One hand +was still poised a foot above the table. It was he who broke the tense and +lifeless tableau. + +Slowly, almost as slowly as Aldous had opened the door, Quade turned his +head, and stared into the coldly smiling face of the man whom he had +plotted to kill, and saw the gleaming pistol in his hand. A curious look +overcame his pouchy face, a look not altogether of terror--but of shock. He +knew Aldous had heard. He accepted in an instant, and perceptibly, the +significance of the pistol in his hand. But Culver Rann sat like a rock. +His face expressed nothing. Not for the smallest part of a second had he +betrayed any emotion that might be throbbing within him. In spite of +himself Aldous admired the man's unflinching nerve. + +"Good evening, gentlemen!" he repeated. + +Then Rann leaned slowly forward over the table. One hand rose to his +moustache. It was his right hand. The other was invisible. Quade pulled +himself together and stepped to the end of the table, his two empty hands +in front of him. Aldous, still smiling, faced Rann's glittering eyes and +covered him with his automatic. Culver Rann twisted the end of his +moustache, and smiled back. + +"Well?" he said. "Is it checkmate?" + +"It is," replied Aldous. "I've promised you scoundrels one minute of life. +I guess that minute is about up." + +The last word was scarcely out of his mouth when the room was in +darkness--a darkness so complete and sudden that for an instant his hand +faltered, and in that instant he heard the overturning of a chair and the +falling of a body. Twice his automatic sent a lightning-flash of fire where +Culver Rann had sat; twice it spat threadlike ribbons of flame through the +blackness where Quade had stood. He knew what had happened, and also what +to expect if he lost out now. The curiously shaped iron lamp had concealed +an electric bulb, and Rann had turned off the switch-key under the table. +He had no further time to think. An object came hurtling through the thick +gloom and fell with terrific force on his outstretched pistol arm. His +automatic flew from his hand and struck against the wall. Unarmed, he +sprang back toward the open door--full into the arms of Quade! + +Aldous knew that it was Quade and not Culver Rann, and he struck out with +all the force he could gather in a short-arm blow. His fist landed against +Quade's thick neck. Again and again he struck, and Quade's grip loosened. +In another moment he would have reached the door if Rann had not caught him +from behind. Never had Aldous felt the clutch of hands like those of the +womanish hands of Culver Rann. It was as if sinuous fingers of steel were +burying themselves in his flesh. Before they found his throat he flung +himself backward with all his weight, and with a tremendous effort freed +himself. + +Both Quade and Culver Rann now stood between him and the door. He could +hear Quade's deep, panting breath. Rann, as before, was silent as death. +Then he heard the door close. A key clicked in the lock. He was trapped. + +"Turn on the light, Billy," he heard Rann say in a quiet, unexcited voice. +"We've got this house-breaker cornered, and he's lost his gun. Turn on the +light--and I'll make one shot do the business!" + +Aldous heard Quade moving, but he was not coming toward the table. +Somewhere in the room was another switch connected with the iron lamp, and +Aldous felt a curious chill shoot up his spine. Without seeing through that +pitch darkness of the room he sensed the fact that Culver Rann was standing +with his back against the locked door, a revolver in his hand. And he knew +that Quade, feeling his way along the wall, held a revolver in his hand. +Men like these two did not go unarmed. The instant the light was turned on +they would do their work. As he stood, silent as Culver Rann, he realized +the tables were turned. In that moment's madness roused by Quade's gloating +assurance of possessing Joanne he had revealed himself like a fool, and now +he was about to reap the whirlwind of his folly. Deliberately he had given +himself up to his enemies. They, too, would be fools if they allowed him to +escape alive. + +He heard Quade stop. His thick hand was fumbling along the wall. Aldous +guessed that he was feeling for the switch. He almost fancied he could see +Rann's revolver levelled at him through the darkness. In that thrilling +moment his mind worked with the swiftness of a powder flash. One of his +hands touched the edge of the desk-table, and he knew that he was standing +directly opposite the curtained window, perhaps six feet from it. If he +flung himself through the window the curtain would save him from being cut +to pieces. + +No sooner had the idea of escape come to him than he had acted. A flood of +light filled the room as his body crashed through the glass. He heard a +cry--a single shot--as he struck the ground. He gathered himself up and ran +swiftly. Fifty yards away he stopped, and looked back. Quade and Rann were +in the window. Then they disappeared, and a moment later the room was again +in gloom. + +For a second time Aldous hurried in the direction of MacDonald's camp. He +knew that, in spite of the protecting curtain, the glass had cut him. He +felt the warm blood dripping over his face; both hands were wet with it, +The arm on which he had received the blow from the unseen object in the +room gave him considerable pain, and he had slightly sprained an ankle in +his leap through the window, so that he limped a little. But his mind was +clear--so clear that in the face of his physical discomfort he caught +himself laughing once or twice as he made his way along the trail. + +Aldous was not of an ordinary type. To a curious and superlative degree he +could appreciate a defeat as well as a triumph. His adventures had been a +part of a life in which he had not always expected to win, and in +to-night's game he admitted that he had been hopelessly and ridiculously +beaten. Tragedy, to him, was a first cousin of comedy; to-night he had set +out to kill, and, instead of killing, he had run like a jack-rabbit for +cover. Also, in that same half-hour Rann and Quade had been sure of him, +and he had given them the surprise of their lives by his catapultic +disappearance through the window. There was something ludicrous about it +all--something that, to him, at least, had turned a possible tragedy into a +very good comedy-drama. + +Nor was Aldous blind to the fact that he had made an utter fool of himself, +and that the consequences of his indiscretion might prove extremely +serious. Had he listened to the conspirators without betraying himself he +would have possessed an important advantage over them. The knowledge he had +gained from overhearing their conversation would have made it comparatively +easy for MacDonald and him to strike them a perhaps fatal blow through the +half-breed DeBar. As the situation stood now, he figured that Quade and +Culver Rann held the advantage. Whatever they had planned to do they would +put into quick execution. They would not lose a minute. + +It was not for himself that Aldous feared. Neither did he fear for Joanne. +Every drop of red fighting blood in him was ready for further action, and +he was determined that Quade should find no opportunity of accomplishing +any scheme he might have against Joanne's person. On the other hand, unless +they could head off DeBar, he believed that Culver Rann's chances of +reaching the gold ahead of them would grow better with the passing of each +hour. To protect Joanne from Quade he must lose no time. MacDonald would +be in the same predicament, while Rann, assisted by as many rascals of his +own colour as he chose to take with him, would be free to carry out the +other part of the conspirators' plans. + +The longer he thought of the mess he had stirred up the more roundly Aldous +cursed his imprudence. And this mess, as he viewed it in these cooler +moments, was even less disturbing than the thought of what might have +happened had he succeeded in his intention of killing both Quade and Rann. +Twenty times as he made his way through the darkness toward MacDonald's +camp he told himself that he must have been mad. To have killed Rann or +Quade in self-defence, or in open fight, would have been playing the game +with a shadow of mountain law behind it. But he had invaded Rann's home. +Had he killed them he would have had but little more excuse than a +house-breaker or a suspicious husband might have had. Tête Jaune would not +countenance cold-blooded shooting, even of criminals. He should have taken +old Donald's advice and waited until they were in the mountains. An +unpleasant chill ran through him as he thought of the narrowness of his +double escape. + +To his surprise, John Aldous found MacDonald awake when he arrived at the +camp in the thickly timbered coulee. He was preparing a midnight cup of +coffee over a fire that was burning cheerfully between two big rocks. +Purposely Aldous stepped out into the full illumination of it. The old +hunter looked up. For a moment he stared into the blood-smeared face of his +friend; then he sprang to his feet, and caught him by the arm. + +"Yes, I got it," nodded Aldous cheerfully. "I went out for it, Mac, and I +got it! Get out your emergency kit, will you? I rather fancy I need a +little patching up." + +MacDonald uttered not a word. From the balsam lean-to he brought out a +small rubber bag and a towel. Into a canvas wash-basin he then turned a +half pail of cold water, and Aldous got on his knees beside this. Not once +did the old mountaineer speak while he was washing the blood from Aldous' +face and hands. There was a shallow two-inch cut in his forehead, two +deeper ones in his right cheek, and a gouge in his chin. There were a dozen +cuts on his hands, none of them serious. Before he had finished MacDonald +had used two thirds of a roll of court-plaster. + +Then he spoke. + +"You can soak them off in the morning," he said. "If you don't, the lady'll +think yo're a red Indian on the warpath. Now, yo' fool, what have yo' gone +an' done?" + +Aldous told him what had happened, and before MacDonald could utter an +expression of his feelings he admitted that he was an inexcusable idiot and +that nothing MacDonald might say could drive that fact deeper home. + +"If I'd come out after hearing what they had to say, we could have got +DeBar at the end of a gun and settled the whole business," he finished. "As +it is, we're in a mess." + +MacDonald stretched his gaunt gray frame before the fire. He picked up his +long rifle, and fingered the lock. + +"You figger they'll get away with DeBar?" + +"Yes, to-night." + +MacDonald threw open the breech of his single-loader and drew out a +cartridge as long as his finger. Replacing it, he snapped the breech shut. + +"Don't know as I'm pertic'lar sad over what's happened," he said, with a +curious look at Aldous. "We might have got out of this without what you +call strenu'us trouble. Now--it's _fight!_ It's goin' to be a matter of +guns an' bullets, Johnny--back in the mountains. You figger Rann an' the +snake of a half-breed'll get the start of us. Let 'em have a start! They've +got two hundred miles to go, an' two hundred miles to come back. Only--they +won't come back!" + +Under his shaggy brows the old hunter's eyes gleamed as he looked at +Aldous. + +"To-morrow we'll go to the grave," he added. "Yo're cur'ous to know what's +goin' to happen when we find that grave, Johnny. So am I. I hope----" + +"What do you hope?" + +MacDonald shook his great gray head in the dying firelight. + +"Let's go to bed, Johnny," he rumbled softly in his beard. "It's gettin' +late." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +To sleep after the excitement through which he had passed, and with +to-morrow's uncertainties ahead of him, seemed to Aldous a physical +impossibility. Yet he slept, and soundly. It was MacDonald who roused him +three hours later. They prepared a quick breakfast over a small fire, and +Aldous heated water in which he soaked his face until the strips of +court-plaster peeled off. The scratches were lividly evident, but, inasmuch +as he had a choice of but two evils, he preferred that Joanne should see +these instead of the abominable disfigurement of court-plaster strips. + +Old Donald took one look at him through half-closed eyes. + +"You look as though you'd come out of a tussle with a grizzly," he grinned. +"Want some fresh court-plaster?" + +"And look as though I'd come out of a circus--no!" retorted Aldous. "I'm +invited to breakfast at the Blacktons', Mac. How the devil am I going to +get out of it?" + +"Tell 'em you're sick," chuckled the old hunter, who saw something funny in +the appearance of Aldous' face. "Good Lord, how I'd liked to have seen you +come through that window--in daylight!" + +Aldous led off in the direction of the trail. MacDonald followed close +behind him. It was dark--that almost ebon-black hour that precedes summer +dawn in the northern mountains. The moon had long ago disappeared in the +west. When a few minutes later they paused in the little opening on the +trail Aldous could just make out the shadowy form of the old mountaineer. + +"I lost my gun when I jumped through the window, Mac," he explained. +"There's another thirty-eight automatic in my kit at the corral. Bring +that, and the .303 with the gold-bead sight--and plenty of ammunition. +You'd better take that forty-four hip-cannon of yours along, as well as +your rifle. Wish I could civilize you, Mac, so you'd carry one of the +Savage automatics instead of that old brain-storm of fifty years ago!" + +MacDonald gave a grunt of disgust that was like the whoof of a bear. + +"It's done business all that time," he growled good humouredly. "An' it +ain't ever made me jump through any window as I remember of, Johnny!" + +"Enough," said Aldous, and in the gloom he gripped the other's hand. +"You'll be there, Mac--in front of the Blacktons'--just as it's growing +light?" + +"That means in three quarters of an hour, Johnny. I'll be there. Three +saddle-horses and a pack." + +Where the trail divided they separated. Aldous went directly to the +Blacktons'. As he had expected, the bungalow was alight. In the kitchen he +saw Tom, the Oriental cook, busy preparing breakfast. Blackton himself, +comfortably dressed in duck trousers and a smoking-jacket, and puffing on a +pipe, opened the front door for him. The pipe almost fell from his mouth +when he saw his friend's excoriated face. + +"What in the name of Heaven!" he gasped. + +"An accident," explained Aldous, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. +"Blackton, I want you to do me another good turn. Tell the ladies anything +you can think of--something reasonable. The truth is, I went through a +window--a window with plenty of glass in it. Now how the deuce can I +explain going through a window like a gentleman?" + +With folded arms, Blackton inspected him thoughtfully for a moment. + +"You can't," he said. "But I don't think you went through a window. I +believe you fell over a cliff and were caught in an armful of wait-a-bit +bushes. They're devilish those wait-a-bits!" + +They shook hands. + +"I'm ready to blow up with curiosity again," said Blackton. "But I'll play +your game, Aldous." + +A few minutes later Joanne and Peggy Blackton joined them. He saw again the +quick flush of pleasure in Joanne's lovely face when she entered the room. +It changed instantly when she saw the livid cuts in his skin. She came to +him quickly, and gave him her hand. Her lips trembled, but she did not +speak. Blackton accepted this as the psychological moment. + +"What do you think of a man who'll wander off a trail, tumble over a ledge, +and get mixed up in a bunch of wait-a-bit like _that?_" he demanded, +laughing as though he thought it a mighty good joke on Aldous. "Wait-a-bit +thorns are worse than razors, Miss Gray," he elucidated further. +"They're--they're perfectly devilish, you know!" + +"Indeed they _are_," emphasized Peggy Blackton, whom her husband had given +a quick look and a quicker nudge, "They're dreadful!" + +Looking straight into Joanne's eyes, Aldous guessed that she did not +believe, and scarcely heard, the Blacktons. + +"I had a presentiment something was going to happen," she said, smiling at +him. "I'm glad it was no worse than that." + +She withdrew her hand, and turned to Peggy Blackton. To John's delight she +had arranged her wonderful shining hair in a braid that rippled in a thick, +sinuous rope of brown and gold below her hips. Peggy Blackton had in some +way found a riding outfit for her slender figure, a typical mountain +outfit, with short divided skirt, loose blouse, and leggings. She had never +looked more beautiful to him. Her night's rest had restored the colour to +her soft cheeks and curved lips; and in her eyes, when she looked at him +again, there was a strange, glowing light that thrilled him. During the +next half-hour he almost forgot his telltale disfigurements. At breakfast +Paul and Peggy Blackton were beautifully oblivious of them. Once or twice +he saw in Joanne's clear eyes a look which made him suspect that she had +guessed very near to the truth. + +MacDonald was prompt to the minute. Gray day, with its bars of golden tint, +was just creeping over the shoulders of the eastern mountains when he rode +up to the Blacktons'. The old hunter was standing close to the horse which +Joanne was to ride when Aldous brought her out. Joanne gave him her hand, +and for a moment MacDonald bowed his shaggy head over it. Five minutes +later they were trailing up the rough wagon-road, MacDonald in the lead, +and Joanne and Aldous behind, with the single pack horse between. + +For several miles this wagon-trail reached back through the thick timber +that filled the bottom between the two ranges of mountains. They had +travelled but a short distance when Joanne drew her horse close in beside +Aldous. + +"I want to know what happened last night," she said. "Will you tell me?" + +Aldous met her eyes frankly. He had made up his mind that she would believe +only the truth, and he had decided to tell her at least a part of that. He +would lay his whole misadventure to the gold. Leaning over the pommel of +his saddle he recounted the occurrences of the night before, beginning with +his search for Quade and the half-breed, and his experience with the woman +who rode the bear. He left out nothing--except all mention of herself. He +described the events lightly, not omitting those parts which appealed to +him as being very near to comedy. + +In spite of his effort to rob the affair of its serious aspect his recital +had a decided effect upon Joanne. For some time after he had finished one +of her small gloved hands clutched tightly at the pommel of her saddle; her +breath came more quickly; the colour had ebbed from her cheeks, and she +looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes from meeting his. He began to +believe that in some way she was convinced he had not told her the whole +truth, and was possibly displeased, when she again turned her face to him. +It was tense and white. In it was the fear which, for a few minutes, she +had tried to keep from him. + +"They would have killed you?" she breathed. + +"Perhaps they would only have given me a good scare," said Aldous. "But I +didn't have time to wait and find out. I was very anxious to see MacDonald +again. So I went through the window!" + +"No, they would have killed you," said Joanne. "Perhaps I did wrong, Mr. +Aldous, but I confided--a little--in Peggy Blackton last night. She seemed +like a sister. I love her. And I wanted to confide in some one--a woman, +like her. It wasn't much, but I told her what happened at Miette: about +you, and Quade, and how I saw him at the station, and again--later, +following us. And then--she told me! Perhaps she didn't know how it was +frightening me, but she told me all about these men--Quade and Culver Rann. +And now I'm more afraid of Culver Rann than Quade, and I've never seen him. +They can't hurt me. But I'm afraid for you!" + +At her words a joy that was like the heat of a fire leaped into his brain. + +"For me?" he said. "Afraid--for me?" + +"Yes. Why shouldn't I be, if I know that you are in danger?" she asked +quietly. "And now, since last night, and the discovery of your secret by +these men, I am terrified. Quade has followed you here. Mrs. Blackton told +me that Culver Rann was many times more dangerous than Quade. Only a little +while ago you told me you did not care for riches. Then why do you go for +this gold? Why do you run the risk? Why----" + +He waited. The colour was flooding back into her face in an excited, +feverish flush. Her blue eyes were dark as thunder-clouds in their +earnestness. + +"Don't you understand?" she went on. "It was because of me that you +incurred this deadly enmity of Quade's. If anything happens to you, I shall +hold myself responsible!" + +"No, you will not be responsible," replied Aldous, steadying the tremble in +his voice. "Besides, nothing is going to happen. But you don't know how +happy you have made me by taking this sort of an interest in me. It--it +feels good," he laughed. + +For a few paces he dropped behind her, where the overhead spruce boughs +left but the space for a single rider between. Then, again, he drew up +close beside her. + +"I was going to tell you about this gold," he said. "It isn't the gold +we're going after." + +He leaned over until his hand rested on her saddle-bow. + +"Look ahead," he went on, a curious softness in his voice. "Look at +MacDonald!" + +The first shattered rays of the sun were breaking over the mountains and +reflecting their glow in the valley. Donald MacDonald had lifted his face +to the sunrise; out from under his battered hat the morning breeze sweeping +through the valley of the Frazer tossed his shaggy hair; his great owl-gray +beard swept his breast; his broad, gaunt shoulders were hunched a little +forward as he looked into the east. Again Aldous looked into Joanne's eyes. + +"It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me north, Ladygray. And +it's not the gold that is taking MacDonald. It is strange, almost +unbelievedly strange--what I am going to tell you. To-day we are seeking a +grave--for you. And up there, two hundred miles in the north, another grave +is calling MacDonald. I am going with him. It just happens that the gold is +there. You wouldn't guess that for more than forty years that blessed old +wanderer ahead of us has loved a dead woman, would you? You wouldn't think +that for nearly half a century, year in and year out, winter and summer +alike, he has tramped the northern mountains--a lost spirit with but one +desire in life--to find at last her resting-place? And yet it is so, +Ladygray. I guess I am the only living creature to whom he has opened his +heart in many a long year. A hundred times beside our campfire I have +listened to him, until at last his story seems almost to be a part of my +own. He may be a little mad, but it is a beautiful madness." + +He paused. + +"Yes," whispered Joanne. "Go on--John Aldous." + +"It's--hard to tell," he continued. "I can't put the feeling of it in +words, the spirit of it, the wonder of it. I've tried to write it, and I +couldn't. Her name was Jane. He has never spoken of her by any other name +than that, and I've never asked for the rest of it. They were kids when +their two families started West over the big prairies in Conestoga wagons. +They grew up sweethearts. Both of her parents, and his mother, died before +they were married. Then, a little later, his father died, and they were +alone. I can imagine what their love must have been. I have seen it still +living in his eyes, and I have seen it in his strange hour-long dreams +after he has talked of her. They were always together. He has told me how +they roamed the mountains hand in hand in their hunts; how she was comrade +and chum when he went prospecting. He has opened his lonely old heart to +me--a great deal. He's told me how they used to be alone for months at a +time in the mountains, the things they used to do, and how she would sing +for him beside their campfire at night. 'She had a voice sweet as an +angel,' I remember he told me once. Then, more than forty years ago, came +the gold-rush away up in the Stikine River country. They went. They joined +a little party of twelve--ten men and two women. This party wandered far +out of the beaten paths of the other gold-seekers. And at last they found +gold." + +Ahead of them Donald MacDonald had turned in his saddle and was looking +back. For a moment Aldous ceased speaking. + +"Please--go on!" said Joanne. + +"They found gold," repeated Aldous. "They found so much of it, Ladygray, +that some of them went mad--mad as beasts. It was placer gold--loose gold, +and MacDonald says that one day he and Jane filled their pockets with +nuggets. Then something happened. A great storm came; a storm that filled +the mountains with snow through which no living creature as heavy as a man +or a horse could make its way. It came a month earlier than they had +expected, and from the beginning they were doomed. Their supplies were +almost gone. + +"I can't tell you the horrors of the weeks and months that followed, as old +Donald has told them to me, Joanne. You must imagine. Only, when you are +deep in the mountains, and the snow comes, you are like a rat in a trap. So +they were caught--eleven men and three women. They who could make their +beds in sheets of yellow gold, but who had no food. The horses were lost in +the storm. Two of their frozen carcasses were found and used for food. Two +of the men set out on snowshoes, leaving their gold behind, and probably +died. + +"Then the first terrible thing happened. Two men quarrelled over a can of +beans, and one was killed. He was the husband of one of the women. The next +terrible thing happened to her--and there was a fight. On one side there +were young Donald and the husband of the other woman; on the other +side--the beasts. The husband was killed, and Donald and Jane sought refuge +in the log cabin they had built. That night they fled, taking what little +food they possessed, and what blankets they could carry. They knew they +were facing death. But they went together, hand in hand. + +"At last Donald found a great cave in the side of a mountain. I have a +picture of that cave in my brain--a deep, warm cave, with a floor of soft +white sand, a cave into which the two exhausted fugitives stumbled, still +hand in hand, and which was home. But they found it a little too late. +Three days later Jane died. And there is another picture in my brain--a +picture of young Donald sitting there in the cave, clasping in his arms the +cold form of the one creature in the world that he loved; moaning and +sobbing over her, calling upon her to come back to life, to open her eyes, +to speak to him--until at last his brain cracked and he went mad. That is +what happened. He went mad." + +Joanne's breath was coming brokenly through her lips. Unconsciously she had +clasped her fingers about the hand Aldous rested on her pommel. + +"How long he remained in the cave with his dead, MacDonald has never been +able to say," he resumed. + +"He doesn't know whether he buried his wife or left her lying on the sand +floor of the cave. He doesn't know how he got out of the mountains. But he +did, and his mind came back. And since then, Joanne--for a matter of forty +years--his life has been spent in trying to find that cave. All those years +his search was unavailing. He could find no trace of the little hidden +valley in which the treasure-seekers found their bonanza of gold. No word +of it ever came out of the mountains; no other prospector ever stumbled +upon it. Year after year Donald went into the North; year after year he +came out as the winter set in, but he never gave up hope. + +"Then he began spending winter as well as summer in that forgotten +world--forgotten because the early gold-rush was over, and the old +Telegraph trail was travelled more by wolves than men. And always, Donald +has told me, his beloved Jane's spirit was with him in his wanderings over +the mountains, her hand leading him, her voice whispering to him in the +loneliness of the long nights. Think of it, Joanne! Forty years of that! +Forty years of a strange, beautiful madness, forty years of undying love, +of faith, of seeking and never finding! And this spring old Donald came +almost to the end of his quest. He knows, now; he knows where that little +treasure valley is hidden in the mountains, he knows where to find the +cave!" + +"He found her--he found her?" she cried. "After all those years--he found +her?" + +"Almost," said Aldous softly. "But the great finale in the tragedy of +Donald MacDonald's life is yet to come, Ladygray. It will come when once +more he stands in the soft white sand of that cavern floor, and sometimes +I tremble when I think that when that moment comes I will be at his side. +To me it will be terrible. To him it will be--what? That hour has not quite +arrived. It happened this way: Old Donald was coming down from the North on +the early slush snows this spring when he came to a shack in which a man +was almost dead of the smallpox. It was DeBar, the half-breed. + +"Fearlessly MacDonald nursed him. He says it was God who sent him to that +shack. For DeBar, in his feverish ravings, revealed the fact that he had +stumbled upon that little Valley of Gold for which MacDonald had searched +through forty years. Old Donald knew it was the same valley, for the +half-breed raved of dead men, of rotting buckskin sacks of yellow nuggets, +of crumbling log shacks, and of other things the memories of which stabbed +like knives into Donald's heart. How he fought to save that man! And, at +last, he succeeded. + +"They continued south, planning to outfit and go back for the gold. They +would have gone back at once, but they had no food and no horses. Foot by +foot, in the weeks that followed, DeBar described the way to the hidden +valley, until at last MacDonald knew that he could go to it as straight as +an eagle to its nest. When they reached Tête Jaune he came to me. And I +promised to go with him, Ladygray--back to the Valley of Gold. He calls it +that; but I--I think of it as The Valley of Silent Men. It is not the gold, +but the cavern with the soft white floor that is calling us." + +In her saddle Joanne had straightened. Her head was thrown back, her lips +were parted, and her eyes shone as the eyes of a Joan of Arc must have +shone when she stood that day before the Hosts. + +"And this man, the half-breed, has sold himself--for a woman?" she said, +looking straight ahead at the bent shoulders of old MacDonald. + +"Yes, for a woman. Do you ask me why I go now? Why I shall fight, if +fighting there must be?" + +She turned to him. Her face was a blaze of glory. + +"No, no, no!" she cried. "Oh, John Aldous! if I were only a man, that I +might go with you and stand with you two in that Holy Sepulchre--the +Cavern----If I were a man, I'd go--and, yes, I would fight!" + +And Donald MacDonald, looking back, saw the two clasping hands across the +trail. A moment later he turned his horse from the broad road into a narrow +trail that led over the range. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +From the hour in which she had listened to the story of old MacDonald a +change seemed to have come over Joanne. It was as if she had risen out of +herself, out of whatever fear or grief she might have possessed in her own +heart. John Aldous knew that there was some deep significance in her visit +to the grave under the Saw Tooth Mountain, and that from the beginning she +had been fighting under a tremendous mental and physical strain. He had +expected this day would be a terrible day for her; he had seen her efforts +to strengthen herself for the approaching crisis that morning. He believed +that as they drew nearer to their journey's end her suspense and +uneasiness, the fear which she was trying to keep from him, would, in spite +of her, become more and more evident. For these reasons the change which he +saw in her was not only delightfully unexpected but deeply puzzling. She +seemed to be under the influence of some new and absorbing excitement. Her +cheeks were flushed. There was a different poise to her head; in her voice, +too, there was a note which he had not noticed before. + +It struck him, all at once, that this was a new Joanne--a Joanne who, at +least for a brief spell, had broken the bondage of oppression and fear that +had fettered her. In the narrow trail up the mountain he rode behind her, +and in this he found a pleasure even greater than when he rode at her +side. Only when her face was turned from him did he dare surrender himself +at all to the emotions which had transformed his soul. From behind he could +look at her, and worship without fear of discovery. Every movement of her +slender, graceful body gave him a new and exquisite thrill; every dancing +light and every darkening shadow in her shimmering hair added to the joy +that no fear or apprehension could overwhelm within him now. Only in those +wonderful moments, when her presence was so near, and yet her eyes did not +see him, could he submerge himself completely in the thought of what she +had become to him and of what she meant to him. + +During the first hour of their climb over the break that led into the +valley beyond they had but little opportunity for conversation. The trail +was an abandoned Indian path, narrow, and in places extremely steep. Twice +Aldous helped Joanne from her horse that she might travel afoot over places +which he considered dangerous. When he assisted her in the saddle again, +after a stiff ascent of a hundred yards, she was panting from her exertion, +and he felt the sweet thrill of her breath in his face. For a space his +happiness obliterated all thoughts of other things. It was MacDonald who +brought them back. + +They had reached the summit of the break, and through his long brass +telescope the old mountaineer was scanning the valley out of which they had +come. Under them lay Tête Jaune, gleaming in the morning sun, and it dawned +suddenly upon Aldous that this was the spot from which MacDonald had spied +upon his enemies. He looked at Joanne. She was breathing quickly as she +looked upon the wonder of the scene below them. Suddenly she turned, and +encountered his eyes. + +"They might--follow?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"No danger of that," he assured her. + +MacDonald had dismounted, and now he lay crouched behind a rock, with his +telescope resting over the top of it. He had leaned his long rifle against +the boulder; his huge forty-four, a relic of the old Indian days, hung at +his hip. Joanne saw these omens of preparedness, and her eyes shifted again +to Aldous. His .303 swung from his saddle. At his waist was the heavy +automatic. She smiled. In her eyes was understanding, and something like a +challenge. She did not question him again, but under her gaze Aldous +flushed. + +A moment later MacDonald closed his telescope and without a word mounted +his horse. Where the descent into the second valley began he paused again. +To the north through the haze of the morning sun gleamed the snow-capped +peaks of the Saw Tooth Range. Apparently not more than an hour's ride +distant rose a huge red sandstone giant which seemed to shut in the end of +the valley MacDonald stretched forth a long arm in its direction. + +"What we're seekin' is behind that mountain," he said. "It's ten miles from +here." He turned to the girl. "Are you gettin' lame, Mis' Joanne?" + +Aldous saw her lips tighten. + +"No. Let us go on, please." + +She was staring fixedly at the sombre red mass of the mountain. Her eyes +did not take in the magnificent sweep of the valley below. They saw +nothing of the snow-capped peaks beyond. There was something wild and +unnatural in their steady gaze. Aldous dropped behind her as they began the +gradual descent from the crest of the break and his own heart began to beat +more apprehensively; the old question flashed back upon him, and he felt +again the oppression that once before had held him in its grip. His eyes +did not leave Joanne. And always she was staring at the mountain behind +which lay the thing they were seeking! It was not Joanne herself that set +his blood throbbing. Her face had not paled. Its colour was like the hectic +flush of a fever. Her eyes alone betrayed her; their strange intensity--the +almost painful steadiness with which they hung to the distant mountain, and +a dread of what was to come seized upon him. Again he found himself asking +himself questions which he could not answer. Why had Joanne not confided +more fully in him? What was the deeper significance of this visit to the +grave, and of her mission in the mountains? + +Down the narrow Indian trail they passed into the thick spruce timber. Half +an hour later they came out into the grassy creek bottom of the valley. +During that time Joanne did not look behind her, and John Aldous did not +speak. MacDonald turned north, and the sandstone mountain was straight +ahead of them. It was not like the other mountains. There was something +sinister and sullen about it. It was ugly and broken. No vegetation grew +upon it, and through the haze of sunlight its barren sides and battlemented +crags gleamed a dark and humid red after the morning mists, as if freshly +stained with blood. Aldous guessed its effect upon Joanne, and he +determined to put an end to it. Again he rode up close beside her. + +"I want you to get better acquainted with old Donald," he said. "We're sort +of leaving him out in the cold, Ladygray. Do you mind if I tell him to come +back and ride with you for a while?" + +"I've been wanting to talk with him," she replied. "If you don't mind----" + +"I don't," he broke in quickly. "You'll love old Donald, Ladygray. And, if +you can, I'd like to have you tell him all that you know about--Jane. Let +him know that I told you." + +She nodded. Her lips trembled in a smile. + +"I will," she said. + +A moment later Aldous was telling MacDonald that Joanne wanted him. The old +mountaineer stared. He drew his pipe from his mouth, beat out its +half-burned contents, and thrust it into its accustomed pocket. + +"She wants to see me?" he asked. "God bless her soul--what for?" + +"Because she thinks you're lonesome up here alone, Mac. And look +here"--Aldous leaned over to MacDonald--"her nerves are ready to snap. I +know it. There's a mighty good reason why I can't relieve the strain she is +under. But you can. She's thinking every minute of that mountain up there +and the grave behind it. You go back, and talk. Tell her about the first +time you ever came up through these valleys--you and Jane. Will you, Mac? +Will you tell her that?" + +MacDonald did not reply, but he dropped behind. Aldous took up the lead. A +few minutes later he looked back, and laughed softly under his breath. +Joanne and the old hunter were riding side by side in the creek bottom, and +Joanne was talking. He looked at his watch. He did not look at it again +until the first gaunt, red shoulder of the sandstone mountain began to loom +over them. An hour had passed since he left Joanne. Ahead of him, perhaps a +mile distant, was the cragged spur beyond which--according to the sketch +Keller had drawn for him at the engineers' camp--was the rough canyon +leading back to the basin on the far side of the mountain. He had almost +reached this when MacDonald rode up. + +"You go back, Johnny," he said, a singular softness in his hollow voice. +"We're a'most there." + +He cast his eyes over the western peaks, where dark clouds were shouldering +their way up in the face of the sun, and added: + +"There's rain in that. I'll trot on ahead with Pinto and have a tent ready +when you come. I reckon it can't be more'n a mile up the canyon." + +"And the grave, Mac?" + +"Is right close to where I'll pitch the tent," said MacDonald, swinging +suddenly behind the pack-horse Pinto, and urging him into a trot. "Don't +waste any time, Johnny." + +Aldous rode back to Joanne. + +"It looks like rain," he explained. "These Pacific showers come up quickly +this side of the Divide, and they drench you in a jiffy. Donald is going on +ahead to put up a tent." + +By the time they reached the mouth of the canyon MacDonald was out of +sight. A little creek that was a swollen torrent in spring time trickled +out of the gorge. Its channel was choked with a chaotic confusion of +sandstone rock and broken slate, and up through this Aldous carefully +picked his way, followed closely by Joanne. The sky continued to darken +above them, until at last the sun died out, and a thick and almost palpable +gloom began to envelop them. Low thunder rolled through the mountains in +sullen, rumbling echoes. He looked back at Joanne, and was amazed to see +her eyes shining, and a smile on her lips as she nodded at him. + +"It makes me think of Henrik Hudson and his ten-pin players," she called +softly. "And ahead of us--is Rip Van Winkle!" + +The first big drops were beginning to fall when they came to an open place. +The gorge swung to the right; on their left the rocks gave place to a +rolling meadow of buffalo grass, and Aldous knew they had reached the +basin. A hundred yards up the slope was a fringe of timber, and as he +looked he saw smoke rising out of this. The sound of MacDonald's axe came +to them. He turned to Joanne, and he saw that she understood. They were at +their journey's end. Perhaps her fingers gripped her rein a little more +tightly. Perhaps it was imagination that made him think there was a slight +tremble in her voice when she said: + +"This--is the place?" + +"Yes. It should be just above the timber. I believe I can see the upper +break of the little box canyon Keller told me about." + +She rode without speaking until they entered the timber. They were just in +time. As he lifted her down from her horse the clouds opened, and the rain +fell in a deluge. Her hair was wet when he got her in the tent. MacDonald +had spread out a number of blankets, but he had disappeared. Joanne sank +down upon them with a little shiver. She looked up at Aldous. It was almost +dark in the tent, and her eyes were glowing strangely. Over them the +thunder crashed deafeningly. For a few minutes it was a continual roar, +shaking the mountains with mighty reverberations that were like the +explosions of giant guns. Aldous stood holding the untied flap against the +beat of the rain. Twice he saw Joanne's lips form words. At last he heard +her say: + +"Where is Donald?" + +He tied the flap, and dropped down on the edge of the blankets before he +answered her. + +"Probably out in the open watching the lightning, and letting the rain +drench him," he said. "I've never known old Donald to come in out of a +rain, unless it was cold. He was tying up the horses when I ran in here +with you." + +He believed she was shivering, yet he knew she was not cold. In the half +gloom of the tent he wanted to reach over and take her hand. + +For a few minutes longer there was no break in the steady downpour and the +crashing of the thunder. Then, as suddenly as the storm had broken, it +began to subside. Aldous rose and flung back the tent-flap. + +"It is almost over," he said. "You had better remain in the tent a little +longer, Ladygray. I will go out and see if MacDonald has succeeded in +drowning himself." + +Joanne did not answer, and Aldous stepped outside. He knew where to find +the old hunter. He had gone up to the end of the timber, and probably this +minute was in the little box canyon searching for the grave. It was a +matter of less than a hundred yards to the upper fringe of timber, and when +Aldous came out of this he stood on the summit of the grassy divide that +separated the tiny lake Keller had described from the canyon. It was less +than a rifle shot distant, and on the farther side of it MacDonald was +already returning. Aldous hurried down to meet him. He did not speak when +they met, but his companion answered the question in his eyes, while the +water dripped in streams from his drenched hair and beard. + +"It's there," he said, pointing back. "Just behind that big black rock. +There's a slab over it, an' you've got the name right. It's Mortimer +FitzHugh." + +Above them the clouds were splitting asunder. A shaft of sunlight broke +through, and as they stood looking over the little lake the shaft +broadened, and the sun swept in golden triumph over the mountains. +MacDonald beat his limp hat against his knee, and with his other hand +drained the water from his beard. + +"What you goin' to do?" he asked. + +Aldous turned toward the timber. Joanne herself answered the question. She +was coming up the slope. In a few moments she stood beside them. First she +looked down upon the lake. Then her eyes turned to Aldous. There was no +need for speech. He held out his hand, and without hesitation she gave him +her own. MacDonald understood. He walked down ahead of them toward the +black rock. When he came to the rock he paused. Aldous and Joanne passed +him. Then they, too, stopped, and Aldous freed the girl's hand. + +With an unexpectedness that was startling they had come upon the grave. Yet +not a sound escaped Joanne's lips. Aldous could not see that she was +breathing. Less than ten paces from them was the mound, protected by its +cairn of stones; and over the stones rose a weather-stained slab in the +form of a cross. One glance at the grave and Aldous riveted his eyes upon +Joanne. For a full minute she stood as motionless as though the last breath +had left her body. Then, slowly, she advanced. He could not see her face. +He followed, quietly, step by step as she moved. For another minute she +leaned over the slab, making out the fine-seared letters of the name. Her +body was bent forward; her two hands were clenched tightly at her side. +Even more slowly than she had advanced she turned toward Aldous and +MacDonald. Her face was dead white. She lifted her hands to her breast, and +clenched them there. + +"It is his name," she said, and there was something repressed and terrible +in her low voice. "It is his name!" + +She was looking straight into the eyes of John Aldous, and he saw that she +was fighting to say something which she had not spoken. Suddenly she came +to him, and her two hands caught his arm. + +"It is terrible--what I am going to ask of you," she struggled. "You will +think I am a ghoul. But I must have proof! I must--I must!" + +She was staring wildly at him, and all at once there leapt fiercely through +him a dawning of the truth. The name was there, seared by hot iron in that +slab of wood. The name! But under the cairn of stones---- + +Behind them MacDonald had heard. He towered beside them now. His great +mountain-twisted hands drew Joanne a step back, and strange gentleness was +in his voice as he said: + +"You an' Johnny go back an' build a fire, Mis' Joanne. I'll find the +proof!" + +"Come," said Aldous, and he held out his hand again. + +MacDonald hurried on ahead of them. When they reached the camp he was gone, +so that Joanne did not see the pick and shovel which he carried back. She +went into the tent and Aldous began building a fire where MacDonald's had +been drowned out. There was little reason for a fire; but he built it, and +for fifteen minutes added pitch-heavy fagots of storm-killed jack-pine and +spruce to it, until the flames leapt a dozen feet into the air. Half a +dozen times he was impelled to return to the grave and assist MacDonald in +his gruesome task. But he knew that MacDonald had meant that he should stay +with Joanne. If he returned, she might follow. + +He was surprised at the quickness with which MacDonald performed his work. +Not more than half an hour had passed when a low whistle drew his eyes to a +clump of dwarf spruce back in the timber. The mountaineer was standing +there, holding something in his hand. With a backward glance to see that +Joanne had not come from the tent, Aldous hastened to him. What he could +see of MacDonald's face was the lifeless colour of gray ash. His eyes +stared as if he had suffered a strange and unexpected shock. He went to +speak, but no words came through his beard. In his hand he held his faded +red neck-handkerchief. He gave it to Aldous. + +"It wasn't deep," he said. "It was shallow, turribly shallow, Johnny--just +under the stone!" + +His voice was husky and unnatural. + +There was something heavy in the handkerchief, and a shudder passed through +Aldous as he placed it on the palm of his hand and unveiled its contents. +He could not repress an exclamation when he saw what MacDonald had brought. +In his hand, with a single thickness of the wet handkerchief between the +objects and his flesh, lay a watch and a ring. The watch was of gold. It +was tarnished, but he could see there were initials, which he could not +make out, engraved on the back of the case. The ring, too, was of gold. It +was one of the most gruesome ornaments Aldous had ever seen. It was in the +form of a coiled and writhing serpent, wide enough to cover half of one's +middle finger between the joints. Again the eyes of the two men met, and +again Aldous observed that strange, stunned look in the old hunter's face. +He turned and walked back toward the tent, MacDonald following him slowly, +still staring, his long gaunt arms and hands hanging limply at his side. + +Joanne heard them, and came out of the tent. A choking cry fell from her +lips when she saw MacDonald. For a moment one of her hands clutched at the +wet canvas of the tent, and then she swayed forward, knowing what John +Aldous had in his hand. He stood voiceless while she looked. In that tense +half-minute when she stared at the objects he held it seemed to him that +her heart-strings must snap under the strain. Then she drew back from +them, her eyes filled with horror, her hands raised as if to shut out the +sight of them, and a panting, sobbing cry broke from between her pallid +lips. + +"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "Take them away--take them away!" + +She staggered back to the tent, and stood there with her hands covering her +face. Aldous turned to the old hunter and gave him the things he held. + +A moment later he stood alone where the three had been, staring now as +Joanne had stared, his heart beating wildly. + +For Joanne, in entering the tent, had uncovered her face; it was not grief +that he saw there, but the soul of a woman new-born. And as his own soul +responded in a wild rejoicing, MacDonald, going over the summit and down +into the hollow, mumbled in his beard: + +"God ha' mercy on me! I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny, an' because she's +like my Jane!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Plunged from one extreme of mental strain to another excitement that was as +acute in its opposite effect, John Aldous stood and stared at the tent-flap +that had dropped behind Joanne. Only a flash he had caught of her face; but +in that flash he had seen the living, quivering joyousness of freedom +blazing where a moment before there had been only horror and fear. As if +ashamed of her own betrayal, Joanne had darted into the tent. She had +answered his question a thousand times more effectively than if she had +remained to tell him with her lips that MacDonald's proofs were +sufficient--that the grave in the little box canyon had not disappointed +her. She had recognized the ring and the watch; from them she had shrank in +horror, as if fearing that the golden serpent might suddenly leap into life +and strike. + +In spite of the mightiest efforts she might have made for self-control +Aldous had seen in her tense and tortured face a look that was more than +either dread or shock--it was abhorrence, hatred. And his last glimpse of +her face had revealed those things gone, and in their place the strange joy +she had run into the tent to hide. That she should rejoice over the dead, +or that the grim relics from the grave should bring that new dawn into her +face and eyes, did not strike him as shocking. In Joanne his sun had +already begun to rise and set. He had come to understand that for her the +grave must hold its dead; that the fact of death, death under the slab that +bore Mortimer FitzHugh's name, meant life for her, just as it meant life +and all things for him. He had prayed for it, even while he dreaded that it +might not be. In him all things were now submerged in the wild thought that +Joanne was free, and the grave had been the key to her freedom. + +A calmness began to possess him that was in singular contrast to the +perturbed condition of his mind a few minutes before. From this hour Joanne +was his to fight for, to win if he could; and, knowing this, his soul rose +in triumph above his first physical exultation, and he fought back the +almost irresistible impulse to follow her into the tent and tell her what +this day had meant for him. Following this came swiftly a realization of +what it had meant for her--the suspense, the terrific strain, the final +shock and gruesome horror of it. He was sure, without seeing, that she was +huddled down on the blankets in the tent. She had passed through an ordeal +under which a strong man might have broken, and the picture he had of her +struggle in there alone turned him from the tent filled with a +determination to make her believe that the events of the morning, both with +him and MacDonald, were easily forgotten. + +He began to whistle as he threw back the wet canvas from over the camp +outfit that had been taken from Pinto's back. In one of the two cow-hide +panniers he saw that thoughtful old Donald had packed materials for their +dinner, as well as utensils necessary for its preparation. That dinner they +would have in the valley, well beyond the red mountain. He began to repack, +whistling cheerily. He was still whistling when MacDonald returned. He +broke off sharply when he saw the other's face. + +"What's the matter, Mac?" he asked. "You sick?" + +"It weren't pleasant, Johnny." + +Aldous nodded toward the tent. + +"It was--beastly," he whispered. "But we can't let her feel that way about +it, Mac. Cheer up--and let's get out of this place. We'll have dinner +somewhere over in the valley." + +They continued packing until only the tent remained to be placed on Pinto's +back. Aldous resumed his loud whistling as he tightened up the +saddle-girths, and killed time in half a dozen other ways. A quarter of an +hour passed. Still Joanne did not appear. Aldous scratched his head +dubiously, and looked at the tent. + +"I don't want to disturb her, Mac," he said in a low voice. "Let's keep up +the bluff of being busy. We can put out the fire." + +Ten minutes later, sweating and considerably smokegrimed, Aldous again +looked toward the tent. + +"We might cut down a few trees," suggested MacDonald. + +"Or play leap-frog," added Aldous. + +"The trees'd sound more natcherel," said MacDonald. "We could tell her----" + +A stick snapped behind them. Both turned at the same instant. Joanne stood +facing them not ten feet away. + +"Great Scott!" gasped Aldous. "Joanne, I thought you were in the tent!" + +The beautiful calmness in Joanne's face amazed him. He stared at her as he +spoke, forgetting altogether the manner in which he had intended to greet +her when she came from the tent. + +"I went out the back way--lifted the canvas and crawled under just like a +boy," she explained. "And I've walked until my feet are wet." + +"And the fire is out!" + +"I don't mind wet feet," she hurried to assure him. + +Old Donald was already at work pulling the tent-pegs. Joanne came close to +Aldous, and he saw again that deep and wonderful light in her eyes. This +time he knew that she meant he should see it, and words which he had +determined not to speak fell softly from his lips. + +"You are no longer afraid, Ladygray? That which you dreaded----" + +"Is dead," she said. "And you, John Aldous? Without knowing, seeing me only +as you have seen me, do you think that I am terrible?" + +"No, could not think that." + +Her hand touched his arm. + +"Will you go out there with me, in the sunlight, where we can look down +upon the little lake?" she asked. "Until to-day I had made up my mind that +no one but myself would ever know the truth. But you have been good to me, +and I must tell you--about myself--about him." + +He found no answer. He left no word with MacDonald. Until they stood on the +grassy knoll, with the lakelet shimmering in the sunlight below them, +Joanne herself did not speak again. Then, with a little gesture, she said: + +"Perhaps you think what is down there is dreadful to me. It isn't. I shall +always remember that little lake, almost as Donald remembers the +cavern--not because it watches over something I love, but because it guards +a thing that in life would have destroyed me! I know how you must feel, +John Aldous--that deep down in your heart you must wonder at a woman who +can rejoice in the death of another human creature. Yet death, and death +alone, has been the key from bondage of millions of souls that have lived +before mine; and there are men--men, too--whose lives have been warped and +destroyed because death did not come to save them. One was my father. If +death had come for him, if it had taken my mother, that down there would +never have happened--for me!" + +She spoke the terrible words so quietly, so calmly, that it was impossible +for him entirely to conceal their effect upon him. There was a bit of +pathos in her smile. + +"My mother drove my father mad," she went on, with a simple directness that +was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard come from human lips. "The +world did not know that he was mad. It called him eccentric. But he was +mad--in just one way. I was nine years old when it happened, and I can +remember our home most vividly. It was a beautiful home. And my father! +Need I tell you that I worshipped him--that to me he was king of all men? +And as deeply as I loved him, so, in another way, he worshipped my mother. +She was beautiful. In a curious sort of way I used to wonder, as a child, +how it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful. It was a dark beauty--a +recurrence of French strain in her English blood. + +"One day I overheard my father tell her that, if she died, he would kill +himself. He was not of the passionate, over-sentimental kind; he was a +philosopher, a scientist, calm and self-contained--and I remembered those +words later, when I had outgrown childhood, as one of a hundred proofs of +how devoutly he had loved her. It was more than love, I believe. It was +adoration. I was nine, I say, when things happened. Another man, a divorce, +and on the day of the divorce this woman, my mother, married her lover. +Somewhere in my father's brain a single thread snapped, and from that day +he was mad--mad on but one subject; and so deep and intense was his madness +that it became a part of me as the years passed, and to-day I, too, am +possessed of that madness. And it is the one greatest thing in the world +that I am proud of, John Aldous!" + +Not once had her voice betrayed excitement or emotion. Not once had it +risen above its normal tone; and in her eyes, as they turned from the lake +to him, there was the tranquillity of a child. + +"And that madness," she resumed, "was the madness of a man whose brain and +soul were overwrought in one colossal hatred--a hatred of divorce and the +laws that made it possible. It was born in him in a day, and it lived until +his death. It turned him from the paths of men, and we became wanderers +upon the face of the earth. Two years after the ruin of our home my mother +and the man she had married died in a ship that was lost at sea. This had +no effect upon my father. Possibly you will not understand what grew up +between us in the years and years that followed. To the end he was a +scientist, a man seeking after the unknown, and my education came to be a +composite of teachings gathered in all parts of the world. We were never +apart. We were more than father and daughter; we were friends, +comrades--he was my world, and I was his. + +"I recall, as I became older, how his hatred of that thing that had broken +our home developed more and more strongly in me. His mind was titanic. A +thousand times I pleaded with him to employ it in the great fight I wanted +him to make--a fight against the crime divorce. I know, now, why he did +not. He was thinking of me. Only one thing he asked of me. It was more than +a request. It was a command. And this command, and my promise, was that so +long as I lived--no matter what might happen in my life--I would sacrifice +myself body and soul sooner than allow that black monster of divorce to +fasten its clutches on me. It is futile for me to tell you these things, +John Aldous. It is impossible--you cannot understand!" + +"I can," he replied, scarcely above a whisper. "Joanne, I begin--to +understand!" + +And still without emotion, her voice as calm as the unruffled lake at their +feet, she continued: + +"It grew in me. It is a part of me now. I hate divorce as I hate the worst +sin that bars one from Heaven. It is the one thing I hate. And it is +because of this hatred that I suffered myself to remain the wife of the man +whose name is over that grave down there--Mortimer FitzHugh. It came about +strangely--what I am going to tell you now. You will wonder. You will think +I was insane. But remember, John Aldous--the world had come to hold but one +friend and comrade for me, and he was my father. It was after Mindano. He +caught the fever, and he was dying." + +For the first time her breath choked her. It was only for an instant. She +recovered herself, and went on: + +"Out of the world my father had left he had kept one friend--Richard +FitzHugh; and this man, with his son, was with us during those terrible +days of fever. I met Mortimer as I had met a thousand other men. His +father, I thought, was the soul of honour, and I accepted the son as such. +We were much together during those two weeks of my despair, and he seemed +to be attentive and kind. Then came the end. My father was dying. And I--I +was ready to die. In his last moments his one thought was of me. He knew I +was alone, and the fear of it terrified him. I believe he did not realize +then what he was asking of me. He pleaded with me to marry the son of his +old friend before he died. And I--John Aldous, I could not fight his last +wish as he lay dying before my eyes. We were married there at his bedside. +He joined our hands. And the words he whispered to me last of all were: +'Remember--Joanne--thy promise and thine honour!'" + +For a moment Joanne stood facing the little lake, and when she spoke again +there was a note of thankfulness, of subdued joy and triumph, in her voice. + +"Before that day had ended I had displeased Mortimer FitzHugh," she said, +and Aldous saw the fingers of her hands close tightly. "I told him that +until a month had passed I would not live with him as a wife lives with her +husband. And he was displeased. And my father was not yet buried! I was +shocked. My soul revolted. + +"We went to London and I was made welcome in the older FitzHugh's wifeless +home, and the papers told of our wedding. And two days later there came +from Devonshire a woman--a sweet-faced little woman with sick, haunted +eyes; in her arms she brought a baby; and that baby _was Mortimer +FitzHugh's!_ + +"We confronted him--the mother, the baby, and I; and then I knew that he +was a fiend. And the father was a fiend. They offered to buy the woman off, +to support her and the child. They told me that many English gentlemen had +made mistakes like this, and that it was nothing--that it was quite common. +Mortimer FitzHugh had never touched me with his lips, and now, when he came +to touch me with his hands, I struck him. It was a serpent's house, and I +left it. + +"My father had left me a comfortable fortune, and I went into a house of my +own. Day after day they came to me, and I knew that they feared I was going +to secure a divorce. During the six months that followed I learned other +things about the man who was legally my husband. He was everything that was +vile. Brazenly he went into public places with women of dishonour, and I +hid my face in shame. + +"His father died, and for a time Mortimer FitzHugh became one of the +talked-about spendthrifts of London. Swiftly he gambled and dissipated +himself into comparative poverty. And now, learning that I would not get a +divorce, he began to regard me as a slave in chains. I remember, one time, +that he succeeded in laying his hands on me, and they were like the touch +of things that were slimy and poisonous. He laughed at my revulsion. He +demanded money of me, and to keep him away from me I gave it to him. Again +and again he came for money; I suffered as I cannot tell you, but never +once in my misery did I weaken in my promise to my father and to myself. +But--at last--I ran away. + +"I went to Egypt, and then to India. A year later I learned that Mortimer +FitzHugh had gone to America, and I returned to London. For two years I +heard nothing of him; but day and night I lived in fear and dread. And then +came the news that he had died, as you read in the newspaper clipping. I +was free! For a year I believed that; and then, like a shock that had come +to destroy me, I was told that he _was not dead_ but that he was alive, and +in a place called Tête Jaune Cache, in British Columbia. I could not live +in the terrible suspense that followed. I determined to find out for myself +if he was alive or dead. And so I came, John Aldous. And he is dead. He is +down there--dead. And I am glad that he is dead!" + +"And if he was not dead," said Aldous quietly, "I would kill him!" + +He could find nothing more to say than that. He dared trust himself no +further, and in silence he held out his hands, and for a moment Joanne gave +him her own. Then she withdrew them, and with a little gesture, and the +smile which he loved to see trembling about her mouth, she said: + +"Donald will think this is scandalous. We must go back and apologize!" + +She led him down the slope, and her face was filled with the pink flush of +a wild rose when she ran up to Donald, and asked him to help her into her +saddle. John Aldous rode like one in a dream as they went back into the +valley, for with each minute that passed Joanne seemed more and more to +him like a beautiful bird that had escaped from its prison-cage, and in him +mind and soul were absorbed in the wonder of it and in his own rejoicing. +She was free, and in her freedom she was happy! + +Free! It was that thought that pounded steadily in his brain. He forgot +Quade, and Culver Rann, and the gold; he forgot his own danger, his own +work, almost his own existence. Of a sudden the world had become +infinitesimally small for him, and all he could see was the soft shimmer of +Joanne's hair in the sun, the wonder of her face, the marvellous blue of +her eyes--and all he could hear was the sweet thrill of her voice when she +spoke to him or old Donald, and when, now and then, soft laughter trembled +on her lips in the sheer joy of the life that had dawned anew for her this +day. + +They stopped for dinner, and then went on over the range and down into the +valley where lay Tête Jaune. And all this time he fought to keep from +flaming in his own face the desire that was like a hot fire within him--the +desire to go to Joanne and tell her that he loved her as he had never +dreamed it possible for love to exist in the whole wide world. He knew that +to surrender to that desire in this hour would be something like sacrilege. +He did not guess that Joanne saw his struggle, that even old MacDonald +mumbled low words in his beard. When they came at last to Blackton's +bungalow he thought that he had kept this thing from her, and he did not +see--and would not have understood if he had seen--the wonderful and +mysterious glow in Joanne's eyes when she kissed Peggy Blackton. + +Blackton had come in from the work-end, dust-covered and jubilant. + +"I'm glad you folks have returned," he cried, beaming with enthusiasm as he +gripped Aldous by the hand. "The last rock is packed, and to-night we're +going to shake the earth. We're going to blow up Coyote Number +Twenty-seven, and you won't forget the sight as long as you live!" + +Not until Joanne had disappeared into the house with Peggy Blackton did +Aldous feel that he had descended firmly upon his feet once more into a +matter-of-fact world. MacDonald was waiting with the horses, and Blackton +was pointing over toward the steel workers, and was saying something about +ten thousand pounds of black powder and dynamite and a mountain that had +stood a million years and was going to be blown up that night. + +"It's the best bit of work I've ever done, Aldous--that and Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. Peggy was going to touch the electric button to Twenty-seven +to-night, but we've decided to let Miss Gray do that, and Peggy'll fire +Twenty-eight to-morrow night. Twenty-eight is almost ready. If you say so, +the bunch of us will go over and see it in the morning. Mebby Miss Gray +would like to see for herself that a coyote isn't only an animal with a +bushy tail, but a cavern dug into rock an' filled with enough explosives to +play high jinks with all the navies in the world if they happened to be on +hand at the time. What do you say?" + +"Fine!" said Aldous. + +"And Peggy wants me to say that it's a matter of only common, every-day +decency on your part to make yourself our guest while here," added the +contractor, stuffing his pipe. "We've got plenty of room, enough to eat, +and a comfortable bed for you. You're going to be polite enough to accept, +aren't you?" + +"With all my heart," exclaimed Aldous, his blood tingling at the thought of +being near Joanne. "I've got some business with MacDonald and as soon as +that's over I'll domicile myself here. It's bully of you, Blackton! You +know----" + +"Why, dammit, of course I know!" chuckled Blackton, lighting his pipe. +"Can't I see, Aldous? D'ye think I'm blind? I was just as gone over Peggy +before I married her. Fact is, I haven't got over it yet--and never will. I +come up from the work four times a day regular to see her, and if I don't +come I have to send up word I'm safe. Peggy saw it first. She said it was a +shame to put you off in that cabin with Miss Gray away up here. I don't +want to stick my nose in your business, old man, but--by George!--I +congratulate you! I've only seen one lovelier woman in my life, and that's +Peggy." + +He thrust out a hand and pumped his friend's limp arm, and Aldous felt +himself growing suddenly warm under the other's chuckling gaze. + +"For goodness sake don't say anything, or act anything, old man," he +pleaded. "I'm--just--hoping." + +Blackton nodded with prodigious understanding in his eyes. + +"Come along when you get through with MacDonald," he said. "I'm going in +and clean up for to-night's fireworks." + +A question was in Aldous' mind, but he did not put it in words. He wanted +to know about Quade and Culver Rann. + +"Blackton is such a ridiculously forgetful fellow at times that I don't +want to rouse his alarm," he said to MacDonald as they were riding toward +the corral a few minutes later. "He might let something out to Joanne and +his wife, and I've got reasons--mighty good reasons, Mac--for keeping this +affair as quiet as possible. We'll have to discover what Rann and Quade are +doing ourselves." + +MacDonald edged his horse in nearer to Aldous. + +"See here, Johnny, boy--tell me what's in your mind?" + +Aldous looked into the grizzled face, and there was something in the glow +of the old mountaineer's eyes that made him think of a father. + +"You know, Mac." + +Old Donald nodded. + +"Yes, I guess I do, Johnny," he said in a low voice. "You think of Mis' +Joanne as I used to--to--think of _her_. I guess I know. But--what you +goin' to do?" + +Aldous shook his head, and for the first time that afternoon a look of +uneasiness and gloom overspread his face. + +"I don't know, Mac. I'm not ashamed to tell you. I love her. If she were to +pass out of my life to-morrow I would ask for something that belonged to +her, and the spirit of her would live in it for me until I died. That's how +I care, Mac. But I've known her such a short time. I can't tell her yet. It +wouldn't be the square thing. And yet she won't remain in Tête Jaune very +long. Her mission is accomplished. And if--if she goes I can't very well +follow her, can I, Mac?" + +For a space old Donald was silent. Then he said, "You're thinkin' of me, +Johnny, an' what we was planning on?" + +"Partly." + +"Then don't any more. I'll stick to you, an' we'll stick to her. Only----" + +"What?" + +"If you could get Peggy Blackton to help you----" + +"You mean----" began Aldous eagerly. + +"That if Peggy Blackton got her to stay for a week--mebby ten +days--visitin' her, you know, it wouldn't be so bad if you told her then, +would it, Johnny?" + +"By George, it wouldn't!" + +"And I think----" + +"Yes----" + +"Bein' an old man, an' seein' mebby what you don't see----" + +"Yes----" + +"That she'd take you, Johnny." + +In his breast John's heart seemed suddenly to give a jump that choked him. +And while he stared ahead old Donald went on. + +"I've seen it afore, in a pair of eyes just like her eyes, Johnny--so soft +an' deeplike, like the sky up there when the sun's in it. I seen it when we +was ridin' behind an' she looked ahead at you, Johnny. I did. An' I've seen +it afore. An' I think----" + +Aldous waited, his heart-strings ready to snap. + +"An' I think--she likes you a great deal, Johnny." + +Aldous reached over and gripped MacDonald's hand. + +"The good Lord bless you, Donald! We'll stick! As for Quade and Culver +Rann----" + +"I've been thinkin' of them," interrupted MacDonald. "You haven't got time +to waste on them, Johnny. Leave 'em to me. If it's only a week you've got +to be close an' near by Mis' Joanne. I'll find out what Quade an' Rann are +doing, and what they're goin' to do. I've got a scheme. Will you leave 'em +to me?" + +Aldous nodded, and in the same breath informed MacDonald of Peggy +Blackton's invitation. The old hunter chuckled exultantly. He stopped his +horse, and Aldous halted. + +"It's workin' out fine, Johnny!" he exclaimed. "There ain't no need of you +goin' any further. We understand each other, and there ain't nothin' for +you to do at the corral. Jump off your horse and go back. If I want you +I'll come to the Blacktons' 'r send word, and if you want me I'll be at the +corral or the camp in the coulee. Jump off, Johnny!" + +Without further urging Aldous dismounted. They shook hands again, and +MacDonald drove on ahead of him the saddled horses and the pack. And as +Aldous turned back toward the bungalow old Donald was mumbling low in his +beard again, "God ha' mercy on me, but I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny--for +her an' Johnny!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Half an hour later Blackton had shown Aldous to his room and bath. It was +four o'clock when he rejoined the contractor in the lower room, freshly +bathed and shaven and in a change of clothes. He had not seen Joanne, but +half a dozen times he had heard her and Peggy Blackton laughing and talking +in Mrs. Blackton's big room at the head of the stairs, and he heard them +now as they sat down to smoke their cigars. Blackton was filled with +enthusiasm over the accomplishment of his latest work, and Aldous tried +hard not to betray the fact that the minutes were passing with gruelling +slowness while he waited for Joanne. He wanted to see her. His heart was +beating like an excited boy's. He could hear her footsteps over his head, +and he distinguished her soft laughter, and her sweet voice when she spoke. +There was something tantalizing in her nearness and the fact that she did +not once show herself at the top of the stair. Blackton was still talking +about "coyotes" and dynamite when, an hour later, Aldous looked up, and his +heart gave a big, glad jump. + +Peggy Blackton, a plump little golden-haired vision of happiness, was +already half a dozen steps down the stairs. At the top Joanne, for an +instant, had paused. Through that space, before the contractor had turned, +her eyes met those of John Aldous. She was smiling. Her eyes were shining +at him. Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and +never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness. She was dressed +in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat, +and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous +way. Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she +had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the +lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck. + +For a moment, as Peggy Blackton went to her husband, he stood very close to +Joanne, and into his eyes she was smiling, half laughing, her beautiful +mouth aquiver, her eyes glowing, the last trace of their old suspense and +fear vanished in a new and wondrous beauty. He would not have said she was +twenty-eight now. He would have sworn she was twenty. + +"Joanne," he whispered, "you are wonderful. Your hair is glorious!" + +"Always--my hair," she replied, so low that he alone heard. "Can you never +see beyond my hair, John Aldous?" + +"I stop there," he said. "And I marvel. It is glorious!" + +"Again!" And up from her white throat there rose a richer, sweeter colour. +"If you say that again now, John Aldous, I shall never make curls for you +again as long as I live!" + +"For me----" + +His heart seemed near bursting with joy. But she had left him, and was +laughing with Peggy Blackton, who was showing her husband where he had +missed a stubbly patch of beard on his cheek. He caught her eyes, turned +swiftly to him, and they were laughing at him, and there came a sudden +pretty upturn to her chin as he continued to stare, and he saw again the +colour deepening in her face. When Peggy Blackton led her husband to the +stair, and drove him up to shave off the stubbly patch, Joanne found the +opportunity to whisper to him: + +"You are rude, John Aldous! You must not stare at me like that!" + +And as she spoke the rebellious colour was still in her face, in spite of +the tantalizing curve of her red lips and the sparkle in her eyes. + +"I can't help it," he pleaded. "You are--glorious!" + +During the next hour, and while they were at supper, he could see that she +was purposely avoiding his eyes, and that she spoke oftener to Paul +Blackton than she did to him, apparently taking the keenest interest in his +friend's enthusiastic descriptions of the mighty work along the line of +steel. And as pretty Peggy Blackton never seemed quite so happy as when +listening to her husband, he was forced to content himself by looking at +Joanne most of the time, without once receiving her smile. + +The sun was just falling behind the western mountains when Peggy and +Joanne, hurried most incontinently by Blackton, who had looked at his +watch, left the table to prepare themselves for the big event of the +evening. + +"I want to get you there before dusk," he explained. "So please hurry!" + +They were back in five minutes. Joanne had slipped on a long gray coat, and +with a veil that trailed a yard down her back she had covered her head. +Not a curl or a tress of her hair had she left out of its filmy prison, and +there was a mischievous gleam of triumph in her eyes when she looked at +Aldous. + +A moment later, when they went ahead of Blackton and his wife to where the +buckboard was waiting for them, he said: + +"You put on that veil to punish me, Ladygray?" + +"It is a pretty veil," said she. + +"But your hair is prettier," said he. + +"And you embarrassed me very much by staring as you did, John Aldous!" + +"Forgive me. It is--I mean you are--so beautiful." + +"And you are sometimes--most displeasing," said she. "Your ingenuousness, +John Aldous, is shocking!" + +"Forgive me," he said again. + +"And you have known me but two days," she added. + +"Two days--is a long time," he argued. "One can be born, and live, and die +in two days. Besides, our trails have crossed for years." + +"But--it displeases me." + +"What I have said?" + +"Yes." + +"And the way I have looked at you?" + +"Yes." + +Her voice was low and quiet now, her eyes were serious, and she was not +smiling. + +"I know--I know," he groaned, and there was a deep thrill in his voice. +"It's been only two days after all, Ladygray. It seems like--like a +lifetime. I don't want you to think badly of me. God knows I don't!" + +"No, no. I don't," she said quickly and gently. "You are the finest +gentleman I ever knew, John Aldous. Only--it embarrasses me." + +"I will cut out my tongue and put out my eyes----" + +"Nothing so terrible," she laughed softly. "Will you help me into the +wagon? They are coming." + +She gave him her hand, warm and soft; and Blackton forced him into the seat +between her and Peggy, and Joanne's hand rested in his arm all the way to +the mountain that was to be blown up, and he told himself that he was a +fool if he were not supremely happy. The wagon stopped, and he helped her +out again, her warm little hand again close in his own, and when she looked +at him he was the cool, smiling John Aldous of old, so cool, and strong, +and unemotional that he saw surprise in her eyes first, and then that +gentle, gathering glow that came when she was proud of him, and pleased +with him. And as Blackton pointed out the mountain she unknotted the veil +under her chin and let it drop back over her shoulders, so that the last +light of the day fell richly in the trembling curls and thick coils of her +hair. + +"And that is my reward," said John Aldous, but he whispered it to himself. + +They had stopped close to a huge flat rock, and on this rock men were at +work fitting wires to a little boxlike thing that had a white button-lever. +Paul Blackton pointed to this, and his face was flushed with excitement. + +"That's the little thing that's going to blow it up, Miss Gray--the touch +of your finger on that little white button. Do you see that black base of +the mountain yonder?--right there where you can see men moving about? It's +half a mile from here, and the 'coyote' is there, dug into the wall of +it." + +The tremble of enthusiasm was in his voice as he went on, pointing with his +long arm: "Think of it! We're spending a hundred thousand dollars going +through that rock that people who travel on the Grand Trunk Pacific in the +future will be saved seven minutes in their journey from coast to coast! +We're spending a hundred thousand there, and millions along the line, that +we may have the smoothest roadbed in the world when we're done, and the +quickest route from sea to sea. It looks like waste, but it isn't. It's +science! It's the fight of competition! It's the determination behind the +forces--the determination to make this road the greatest road in the world! +Listen!" + +The gloom was thickening swiftly. The black mountain was fading slowly +away, and up out of that gloom came now ghostly and far-reaching voices of +men booming faintly through giant megaphones. + +"_Clear away! Clear away! Clear away!_" they said, and the valley and the +mountain-sides caught up the echoes, until it seemed that a hundred voices +were crying out the warning. Then fell a strange and weird silence, and the +echoes faded away like the voices of dying men, and all was still save the +far-away barking of a coyote that answered the mysterious challenges of the +night. Joanne was close to the rock. Quietly the men who had been working +on the battery drew back. + +"It is ready!" said one. + +"Wait!" said Blackton, as his wife went to speak, "Listen!" + +For five minutes there was silence. Then out of the night a single +megaphone cried the word: + +"_Fire!_" + +"All is clear," said the engineer, with a deep breath. "All you have to do, +Miss Gray, is to move that little lever from the side on which it now rests +to the opposite side. Are you ready?" + +In the darkness Joanne's left hand had sought John's. It clung to his +tightly. He could feel a little shiver run through her. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"Then--if you please--press the button!" + +Slowly Joanne's right hand crept out, while the fingers of her left clung +tighter to Aldous. She touched the button--thrust it over. A little cry +that fell from between her tense lips told them she had done the work, and +a silence like that of death fell on those who waited. + +A half a minute--perhaps three quarters--and a shiver ran under their feet, +but there was no sound; and then a black pall, darker than the night, +seemed to rise up out of the mountain, and with that, a second later, came +the explosion. There was a rumbling and a jarring, as if the earth were +convulsed under foot; volumes of dense black smoke shot upward, and in +another instant these rolling, twisting volumes of black became lurid, and +an explosion like that of a thousand great guns rent the air. As fast as +the eye could follow sheets of flame shot up out of the sea of smoke, +climbing higher and higher, in lightning flashes, until the lurid tongues +licked the air a quarter of a mile above the startled wilderness. Explosion +followed explosion, some of them coming in hollow, reverberating booms, +others sounding as if in midair. Unseen by the watchers, the heavens were +filled with hurtling rocks; solid masses of granite ten feet square were +thrown a hundred feet away; rocks weighing a ton were hurled still farther, +as if they were no more than stones flung by the hands of a giant; chunks +that would have crashed from the roof to the basement of a skyscraper +dropped a third of a mile away. For three minutes the frightful convulsions +continued, and the tongues of flame leaped into the night. Then the lurid +lights died out, shorter and shorter grew the sullen flashes, and then +again fell--silence! + +During those appalling moments, unconscious of the act, Joanne had shrank +close to Aldous, so that he felt the soft crush of her hair and the swift +movement of her bosom. Blackton's voice brought them back to life. + +He laughed, and it was the laugh of a man who had looked upon work well +done. + +"It has done the trick," he said. "To-morrow we will come and see. And I +have changed my plans about Coyote Number Twenty-eight. Hutchins, the +superintendent, is passing through in the afternoon, and I want him to see +it." He spoke now to a man who had come up out of the darkness. "Gregg, +have Twenty-eight ready at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon--four +o'clock--sharp!" + +Then he said: + +"Dust and a bad smell will soon be settling about us. Come, let's go home!" + +And as they went back to the buckboard wagon through the gloom John Aldous +still held Joanne's hand in his own, and she made no effort to take it from +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The next morning, when Aldous joined the engineer in the dining-room below, +he was disappointed to find the breakfast table prepared for two instead of +four. It was evident that Peggy Blackton and Joanne were not going to +interrupt their beauty nap on their account. + +Blackton saw his friend's inquiring look, and chuckled. + +"Guess we'll have to get along without 'em this morning, old man. Lord +bless me, did you hear them last night--after you went to bed?" + +"No." + +"You were too far away," chuckled Blackton again, "I was in the room across +the hall from them. You see, old man, Peggy sometimes gets fairly starved +for the right sort of company up here, and last night they didn't go to bed +until after twelve o'clock. I looked at my watch. Mebby they were in bed, +but I could hear 'em buzzing like two bees, and every little while they'd +giggle, and then go on buzzing again. By George, there wasn't a break in +it! When one let up the other'd begin, and sometimes I guess they were both +going at once. Consequently, they're sleeping now." + +When breakfast was finished Blackton looked at his watch. + +"Seven o'clock," he said. "We'll leave word for the girls to be ready at +nine. What are you going to do meantime, Aldous?" + +"Hunt up MacDonald, probably." + +"And I'll run down and take a look at the work." + +As they left the house the engineer nodded down the road. MacDonald was +coming. + +"He has saved you the trouble," he said. "Remember, Aldous--nine o'clock +sharp!" + +A moment later Aldous was advancing to meet the old mountaineer. + +"They've gone, Johnny," was Donald's first greeting. + +"Gone?" + +"Yes. The whole bunch--Quade, Culver Rann, DeBar, and the woman who rode +the bear. They've gone, hide and hair, and nobody seems to know where." + +Aldous was staring. + +"Also," resumed old Donald slowly, "Culver Rann's outfit is gone--twenty +horses, including six saddles. An' likewise others have gone, but I can't +find out who." + +"Gone!" repeated Aldous again. + +MacDonald nodded. + +"And that means----" + +"That Culver Rann ain't lost any time in gettin' under way for the gold," +said Donald. "DeBar is with him, an' probably the woman. Likewise three +cut-throats to fill the other saddles. They've gone prepared to fight." + +"And Quade?" + +Old Donald hunched his shoulders, and suddenly John's face grew dark and +hard. + +"I understand," he spoke, half under his breath. "Quade has +disappeared--but he isn't with Culver Rann. He wants us to believe he has +gone. He wants to throw us off our guard. But he's watching, and +waiting--somewhere--like a hawk, to swoop down on Joanne! He----" + +"That's it!" broke in MacDonald hoarsely. "That's it, Johnny! It's his old +trick--his old trick with women. There's a hunderd men who've got to do his +bidding--do it 'r get out of the mountains--an' we've got to watch Joanne. +We have, Johnny! If she should disappear----" + +Aldous waited. + +"You'd never find her again, so 'elp me God, you wouldn't, Johnny!" he +finished. + +"We'll watch her," said Aldous quietly. "I'll be with her to-day, Mac, and +to-night I'll come down to the camp in the coulee to compare notes with +you. They can't very well steal her out of Blackton's house while I'm +gone." + +For an hour after MacDonald left him he walked about in the neighbourhood +of the Blackton bungalow smoking his pipe. Not until he saw the contractor +drive up in the buckboard did he return. Joanne and Peggy were more than +prompt. They were waiting. If such a thing were possible Joanne was more +radiantly lovely than the night before. To Aldous she became more beautiful +every time he looked at her. But this morning he did not speak what was in +his heart when, for a moment, he held her hand, and looked into her eyes. +Instead, he said: + +"Good morning, Ladygray. Have you used----" + +"I have," she smiled. "Only it's Potterdam's Tar Soap, and not the other. +And you--have not shaved, John Aldous!" + +"Great Scott, so I haven't!" he exclaimed, rubbing his chin. "But I did +yesterday afternoon, Ladygray!" + +"And you will again this afternoon, if you please," she commanded. "I don't +like bristles." + +"But in the wilderness----" + +"One can shave as well as another can make curls," she reminded him, and +there came an adorable little dimple at the corner of her mouth as she +looked toward Paul Blackton. + +Aldous was glad that Paul and Peggy Blackton did most of the talking that +morning. They spent half an hour where the explosion of the night before +had blown out the side of the mountain, and then drove on to Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. It was in the face of a sandstone cliff, and all they could +see of it when they got out of the wagon was a dark hole in the wall of +rock. Not a soul was about, and Blackton rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. + +"Everything is completed," he said. "Gregg put in the last packing this +morning, and all we are waiting for now is four o'clock this afternoon." + +The hole in the mountain was perhaps four feet square. Ten feet in front of +it the engineer paused, and pointed to the ground. Up out of the earth came +two wires, which led away from the mouth of the cavern. + +"Those wires go down to the explosives," he explained. "They're battery +wires half a mile long. But we don't attach the battery until the final +moment, as you saw last night. There might be an accident." + +He bent his tall body and entered the mouth of the cavern, leading his wife +by the hand. Observing that Joanne had seen this attention on the +contractor's part, Aldous held out his own hand, and Joanne accepted it. +For perhaps twenty feet they followed the Blacktons with lowered heads. +They seemed to have entered a black, cold pit, sloping slightly downward, +and only faintly could they see Blackton when he straightened. + +His voice came strange and sepulchral: + +"You can stand up now. We're in the chamber. Don't move or you might +stumble over something. There ought to be a lantern here." + +He struck a match, and as he moved slowly toward a wall of blackness, +searching for the lantern, he called back encouragingly through the gloom: + +"You folks are now standing right over ten tons of dynamite, and there's +another five tons of black powder----" + +A little shriek from Peggy Blackton stopped him, and his match went out. + +"What in heaven's name is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Peggy----" + +"Why in heaven's name do you light a match then, with us standing over all +those tons of dynamite?" demanded Peggy. "Paul Blackton, you're----" + +The engineer's laughter was like a giant's roar in the cavern, and Joanne +gave a gasp, while Peggy shiveringly caught Aldous by the arm. + +"There--I've got the lantern!" exclaimed Blackton. "There isn't any danger, +not a bit. Wait a minute and I'll tell you all about it." He lighted the +lantern, and in the glow of it Joanne's and Peggy's faces were white and +startled. "Why, bless my soul, I didn't mean to frighten you!" he cried. "I +was just telling you facts. See, we're standing on a solid floor--four feet +of packed rock and cement. The dynamite and black powder are under that. +We're in a chamber--a cave--an artificial cavern. It's forty feet deep, +twenty wide, and about seven high." + +He held the lantern even with his shoulders and walked deeper into the +cavern as he spoke. The others followed. They passed a keg on which was a +half-burned candle. Close to the keg was an empty box. Beyond these things +the cavern was empty. + +"I thought it was full of powder and dynamite," apologized Peggy. + +"You see, it's like this," Blackton began. "We put the powder and dynamite +down there, and pack it over solid with rock and cement. If we didn't leave +this big air-chamber above it there would be only one explosion, and +probably two thirds of the explosive would not fire, and would be lost. +This chamber corrects that. You heard a dozen explosions last night, and +you'll hear a dozen this afternoon, and the biggest explosion of all is +usually the fourth or fifth. A 'coyote' isn't like an ordinary blast or +shot. It's a mighty expensive thing, and you see it means a lot of work. +Now, if some one were to touch off those explosives at this minute---- +What's the matter, Peggy? Are you cold? You're shivering!" + +"Ye-e-e-e-s!" chattered Peggy. + +Aldous felt Joanne tugging at his hand. + +"Let's take Mrs. Blackton out," she whispered. "I'm--I'm--afraid she'll +take cold!" + +In spite of himself Aldous could not restrain his laughter until they had +got through the tunnel. Out in the sunlight he looked at Joanne, still +holding her hand. She withdrew it, looking at him accusingly. + +"Lord bless me!" exclaimed Blackton, who seemed to understand at last. +"There's no danger--not a bit!" + +"But I'd rather look at it from outside, Paul, dear," said Mrs. Blackton. + +"But--Peggy--if it went off now you'd be in just as bad shape out here!" + +"I don't think we'd be quite so messy, really I don't, dear," she +persisted. + +"Lord bless me!" he gasped. + +"And they'd probably be able to find something of us," she added. + +"Not a button, Peggy!" + +"Then I'm going to move, if you please!" And suiting her action to the word +Peggy led the way to the buckboard. There she paused and took one of her +husband's big hands fondly in both her own. "It's perfectly wonderful, +Paul--and I'm proud of you!" she said. "But, honestly, dear, I can enjoy it +so much better at four o'clock this afternoon." + +Smiling, Blackton lifted her into the buckboard. + +"That's why I wish Paul had been a preacher or something like that," she +confided to Joanne as they drove homeward. "I'm growing old just thinking +of him working over that horrid dynamite and powder all the time. Every +little while some one is blown into nothing." + +"I believe," said Joanne, "that I'd like to do something like that if I +were a man. I'd want to be a man, not that preachers aren't men, Peggy, +dear--but I'd want to do things, like blowing up mountains for instance, or +finding buried cities, or"--she whispered, very, very softly under her +breath--"writing books, John Aldous!" + +Only Aldous heard those last words, and Joanne gave a sharp little cry; and +when Peggy asked her what the matter was Joanne did not tell her that John +Aldous had almost broken her hand on the opposite side--for Joanne was +riding between the two. + +"It's lame for life," she said to him half an hour later, when he was +bidding her good-bye, preparatory to accompanying Blackton down to the +working steel. "And I deserve it for trying to be kind to you. I think some +writers of books are--are perfectly intolerable!" + +"Won't you take a little walk with me right after dinner?" he was asking +for the twentieth time. + +"I doubt it very, very much." + +"Please, Ladygray!" + +"I may possibly think about it." + +With that she left him, and she did not look back as she and Peggy Blackton +went into the house. But as they drove away they saw two faces at the +window that overlooked the townward road, and two hands were waving +good-bye. Both could not be Peggy Blackton's hands. + +"Joanne and I are going for a walk this afternoon, Blackton," said Aldous, +"and I just want to tell you not to worry if we're not back by four +o'clock. Don't wait for us. We may be watching the blow-up from the top of +some mountain." + +Blackton chuckled. + +"Don't blame you," he said. "From an observer's point of view, John, it +looks to me as though you were going to have something more than hope to +live on pretty soon!" + +"I--I hope so." + +"And when I was going with Peggy I wouldn't have traded a quiet little walk +with her--like this you're suggesting--for a front seat look at a blow-up +of the whole Rocky Mountain system!" + +"And you won't forget to tell Mrs. Blackton that we may not return by four +o'clock?" + +"I will not. And"--Blackton puffed hard at his pipe--"and, John--the Tête +Jaune preacher is our nearest neighbour," he finished. + +From then until dinner time John Aldous lived in an atmosphere that was not +quite real, but a little like a dream. His hopes and his happiness were at +their highest. He knew that Joanne would go walking with him that +afternoon, and in spite of his most serious efforts to argue to the +contrary he could not keep down the feeling that the event would mean a +great deal for him. Almost feverishly he interested himself in Paul +Blackton's work. When they returned to the bungalow, a little before noon, +he went to his room, shaved himself, and in other ways prepared for dinner. + +Joanne and the Blacktons were waiting when he came down. + +His first look at Joanne assured him. She was dressed in a soft gray +walking-suit. Never had the preparation of a dinner seemed so slow to him, +and a dozen times he found himself inwardly swearing at Tom, the Chinese +cook. It was one o'clock before they sat down at the table and it was two +o'clock when they arose. It was a quarter after two when Joanne and he left +the bungalow. + +"Shall we wander up on the mountain?" he asked. "It would be fine to look +down upon the explosion." + +"I have noticed that in some things you are very observant," said Joanne, +ignoring his question. "In the matter of curls, for instance, you are +unapproachable; in others you are--quite blind, John Aldous!" + +"What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered. + +"I lost my scarf this morning, and you did not notice it. It is quite an +unusual scarf. I bought it in Cairo, and I don't want to have it blown up." + +"You mean----" + +"Yes. I must have dropped it in the cavern. I had it when we entered." + +"Then we'll return for it," he volunteered. "We'll still have plenty of +time to climb up the mountain before the explosion." + +Twenty minutes later they came to the dark mouth of the tunnel. There was +no one in sight, and for a moment Aldous searched for matches in his +pocket. + +"Wait here," he said. "I won't be gone two minutes." + +He entered, and when he came to the chamber he struck a match. The lantern +was on the empty box. He lighted it, and began looking for the scarf. +Suddenly he heard a sound. He turned, and saw Joanne standing in the glow +of the lantern. + +"Can you find it?" she asked. + +"I haven't--yet." + +They bent over the rock floor, and in a moment Joanne gave a little +exclamation of pleasure as she caught up the scarf. In that same moment, as +they straightened and faced each other, John Aldous felt his heart cease +beating, and Joanne's face had gone as white as death. The rock-walled +chamber was atremble; they heard a sullen, distant roaring, and as Aldous +caught Joanne's hand and sprang toward the tunnel the roar grew into a +deafening crash, and a gale of wind rushed into their faces, blowing out +the lantern, and leaving them in darkness. The mountain seemed crumbling +about them, and above the sound of it rang out a wild, despairing cry from +Joanne's lips. For there was no longer the brightness of sunshine at the +end of the tunnel, but darkness--utter darkness; and through that tunnel +there came a deluge of dust and rock that flung them back into the +blackness of the pit, and separated them. + +"John--John Aldous!" + +"I am here, Joanne! I will light the lantern!" + +His groping hands found the lantern. He relighted it, and Joanne crept to +his side, her face as white as the face of the dead. He held the lantern +above him, and together they stared at where the tunnel had been. A mass of +rock met their eyes. The tunnel was choked. And then, slowly, each turned +to the other; and each knew that the other understood--for it was Death +that whispered about them now in the restless air of the rock-walled tomb, +a terrible death, and their lips spoke no words as their eyes met in that +fearful and silent understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Joanne's white lips spoke first. + +"The tunnel is closed!" she whispered. + +Her voice was strange. It was not Joanne's voice. It was unreal, terrible, +and her eyes were terrible as they looked steadily into his. Aldous could +not answer; something had thickened in his throat, and his blood ran cold +as he stared into Joanne's dead-white face and saw the understanding in her +eyes. For a space he could not move, and then, as suddenly as it had fallen +upon him, the effect of the shock passed away. + +[Illustration: "The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."] + +He smiled, and put out a hand to her. + +"A slide of rock has fallen over the mouth of the tunnel," he said, forcing +himself to speak as if it meant little or nothing. "Hold the lantern, +Joanne, while I get busy." + +"A slide of rock," she repeated after him dumbly. + +She took the lantern, her eyes still looking at him in that stricken way, +and with his naked hands John Aldous set to work. Five minutes and he knew +that it was madness to continue. Hands alone could not clear the tunnel. +And yet he worked, tearing into the rock and shale like an animal; rolling +back small boulders, straining at larger ones until the tendons of his arms +seemed ready to snap and his veins to burst. For a few minutes after that +he went mad. His muscles cracked, he panted as he fought with the rock +until his hands were torn and bleeding, and over and over again there ran +through his head Blackton's last words--_Four o'clock this afternoon!--Four +o'clock this afternoon!_ + +Then he came to what he knew he would reach very soon, a solid wall! Rock +and shale and earth were packed as if by battering rams. For a few moments +he fought to control himself before facing Joanne. Over him swept the grim +realization that his last fight must be for her. He steadied himself, and +wiped the dust and grime from his face with his handkerchief. For the last +time he swallowed hard. His soul rose within him almost joyously now in the +face of this last great fight, and he turned--John Aldous, the super-man. +There was no trace of fear in his face as he went to her. He was even +smiling in that ghostly glow of the lantern. + +"It is hard work, Joanne." + +She did not seem to hear what he had said. She was looking at his hands. +She held the lantern nearer. + +"Your hands are bleeding, John!" + +It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he was +thrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of her +hand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raised +her eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he had +gazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, and +the moment was weighted with an appalling silence. + +It came to them both in that instant--the _tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in +his pocket! + +Without taking her eyes from his face she asked: + +"What time is it. John?" + +"Joanne----" + +"I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I am +not afraid now. What time is it, John?" + +"My God--they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't think +they won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide has +covered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger--none at +all. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!" + +"What time is it?" she repeated softly. + +For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he saw +that she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivory +cross she was smiling at him--yes! she was smiling at him in that gray and +ghastly death-gloom of the cavern! + +He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it. + +"A quarter after three," he said. "By four o'clock they will be at +work--Blackton and twenty men. They will have us out in time for supper." + +"A quarter after three," repeated Joanne, and the words came steadily from +her lips. "That means----" + +He waited. + +"_We have forty-five minutes in which to live!_" she said. + +Before he could speak she had thrust the lantern into his hand, and had +seized his other hand in both her own. + +"If there are only forty-five minutes let us not lie to one another," she +said, and her voice was very close. "I know why you are doing it, John +Aldous. It is for me. You have done a great deal for me in these two days +in which one 'can be born, and live, and die.' But in these last minutes +I do not want you to act what I know cannot be the truth. You know--and I +know. The wires are laid to the battery rock. There is no hope. At four +o'clock--we both know what will happen. And I--am not afraid." + +She heard him choking for speech. In a moment he said: + +"There are other lanterns--Joanne. I saw them when I was looking for the +scarf. I will light them." + +He found two lanterns hanging against the rock wall. He lighted them, and +the half-burned candle. + +"It is pleasanter," she said. + +She stood in the glow of them when he turned to her, tall, and straight, +and as beautiful as an angel. Her lips were pale; the last drop of blood +had ebbed from her face; but there was something glorious in the poise of +her head, and in the wistful gentleness of her mouth and the light in her +eyes. And then, slowly, as he stood looking with a face torn in its agony +for her, she held out her arms. + +"John--John Aldous----" + +"Joanne! Oh, my God!--Joanne!" + +She swayed as he sprang to her, but she was smiling--smiling in that new +and wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heard +her say came low and sobbing: + +"John--John, if you want to, now--you can tell me that my hair is +beautiful!" + +And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him, +her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and over +again she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushed +forth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetful +of time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, her +hair, her eyes--conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life, +that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and that +over and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that she +loved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made him +free her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love had +overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour +and in her eyes was its glory. + +And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came--almost like +the benediction of a cathedral bell--the soft, low tinkling chime of the +half-hour bell in Aldous' watch! + +It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and +his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides. + +"Joanne--Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close +in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "I +have lived for you, I have waited for you--all these years you have been +coming, coming, coming to me--and now that you are mine--_mine_--it is +impossible! It cannot happen----" + +He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined the +packed tunnel. It was solid--not a crevice or a break through which might +have travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did not +shout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would be +terrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might be +some other opening--a possible exit--in that mountain wall? With the +lantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back to +Joanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he looked +at her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went to +her. + +"Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you are +not afraid?" + +"No, I am not afraid." + +"And you know----" + +"Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly against +their clasped hands and partly upon his breast. + +"And you love me, Joanne?" + +"As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered. + +"And yet it has been but two days----" + +"And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly. + +"You would be my wife?" + +"Yes." + +"To-morrow?" + +"If you wanted me then, John." + +"I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me without +reservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me--you would come to me +body, and heart, and soul?" + +"In all those ways--yes." + +"I thank God," he breathed again. + +He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her love +grew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little for +him to kiss. + +"Oh, I was happy--so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face. +"John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keep +myself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraid +you wouldn't tell me--before it happened. And John--John----" + +She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows in +her hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her--her glorious +hair--covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept and +piled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, and +shoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it. + +He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lips +pressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears, +pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the +_tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in his pocket. + +"Joanne," he whispered. + +"Yes, John." + +"You are not afraid of--death?" + +"No, not when you are holding me like this, John." + +He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips. + +"Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, my +John!" + +Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold. + +"Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice. +"Let us sit down, John--you on this box, and I on the floor, at your +feet--like this." + +He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, her +hands clasped in his. + +"I think, John," she said softly, "that very, very often we would have +visited like this--you and I--in the evening." + +A lump choked him, and he could not answer. + +"I would very often have come and perched myself at your feet like this." + +"Yes, yes, my beloved." + +"And you would always have told me how beautiful my hair was--always. You +would not have forgotten that, John--or have grown tired?" + +"No, no--never!" + +His arms were about her. He was drawing her closer. + +"And we would have had beautiful times together, John--writing, and going +adventuring, and--and----" + +He felt her trembling, throbbing, and her arms tightened about him. + +And now, again up through the smother of her hair, came the +_tick-tick-tick_ of his watch. + +He felt her fumbling at his watch pocket, and in a moment she was holding +the timepiece between them, so that the light of the lantern fell on the +face of it. + +"It is three minutes of four, John." + +The watch slipped from her fingers, and now she drew herself up so that her +arms were about his neck, and their faces touched. + +"Dear John, you love me?" + +"So much that even now, in the face of death, I am happy," he whispered. +"Joanne, sweetheart, we are not going to be separated. We are +going--together. Through all eternity it must be like this--you and I, +together. Little girl, wind your hair about me--tight!" + +"There--and there--and there, John! I have tied you to me, and you are +buried in it! Kiss me, John----" + +And then the wild and terrible fear of a great loneliness swept through +him. For Joanne's voice had died away in a whispering breath, and the lips +he kissed did not kiss him back, and her body lay heavy, heavy, heavy in +his arms. Yet in his loneliness he thanked God for bringing her oblivion in +these last moments, and with his face crushed to hers he waited. For he +knew that it was no longer a matter of minutes, but of seconds, and in +those seconds he prayed, until up through the warm smother of her +hair--with the clearness of a tolling bell--came the sound of the little +gong in his watch striking the Hour of Four! + +In space other worlds might have crumbled into ruin; on earth the stories +of empires might have been written and the lives of men grown old in those +first century-long seconds in which John Aldous held his breath and waited +after the chiming of the hour-bell in the watch on the cavern floor. How +long he waited he did not know; how closely he was crushing Joanne to his +breast he did not realize. Seconds, minutes, and other minutes--and his +brain ran red in dumb, silent madness. And the watch! It _ticked, ticked, +ticked!_ It was like a hammer. + +He had heard the sound of it first coming up through her hair. But it was +not in her hair now. It was over him, about him--it was no longer a +ticking, but a throb, a steady, jarring, beating throb. It grew louder, +and the air stirred with it. He lifted his head. With the eyes of a madman +he stared--and listened. His arms relaxed from about Joanne, and she +slipped crumpled and lifeless to the floor. He stared--and that steady +_beat-beat-beat_--a hundred times louder than the ticking of a +watch--pounded in his brain. Was he mad? He staggered to the choked mouth +of the tunnel, and then there fell shout upon shout, and shriek upon shriek +from his lips, and twice, like a madman now, he ran back to Joanne and +caught her up in his arms, calling and sobbing her name, and then +shouting--and calling her name again. She moved; her eyes opened, and like +one gazing upon the spirit of the dead she looked into the face of John +Aldous, a madman's face in the lantern-glow. + +"John--John----" + +She put up her hands, and with a cry he ran with her in his arms to the +choked tunnel. + +"Listen! Listen!" he cried wildly. "Dear God in Heaven, Joanne--can you not +hear them? It's Blackton--Blackton and his men! Hear--hear the rock-hammers +smashing! Joanne--Joanne--we are saved!" + +She did not sense him. She swayed, half on her feet, half in his arms, as +consciousness and reason returned to her. Dazedly her hands went to his +face in their old, sweet way. Aldous saw her struggling to understand--to +comprehend; and he kissed her soft upturned lips, fighting back the +excitement that made him want to raise his voice again in wild and joyous +shouting. + +"It is Blackton!" he said over and over again. "It is Blackton and his men! +Listen!--you can hear their picks and the pounding of their rock-hammers!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +At last Joanne realized that the explosion was not to come, that Blackton +and his men were working to save them. And now, as she listened with him, +her breath began to come in sobbing excitement between her lips--for there +was no mistaking that sound, that steady _beat-beat-beat_ that came from +beyond the cavern wall and seemed to set strange tremors stirring in the +air about their ears. For a few moments they stood stunned and silent, as +if not yet quite fully comprehending that they had come from out of the pit +of death, and that men were fighting for their rescue. They asked +themselves no questions--why the "coyote" had not been fired? how those +outside knew they were in the cavern. And, as they listened, there came to +them a voice. It was faint, so faint that it seemed to whisper to them +through miles and miles of space--yet they knew that it was a voice! + +"Some one is shouting," spoke Aldous tensely. "Joanne, my darling, stand +around the face of the wall so flying rock will not strike you and I will +answer with my pistol!" + +When he had placed her in safety from split lead and rock chips, he drew +his automatic and fired it close up against the choked tunnel. He fired +five times, steadily, counting three between each shot, and then he placed +his ear to the mass of stone and earth and listened. Joanne slipped to him +like a shadow. Her hand sought his, and they held their breaths. They no +longer heard sounds--nothing but the crumbling and falling of dust and +pebbles where the bullets had struck, and their own heart-beats. The picks +and rock-hammers had ceased. + +Tighter and tighter grew the clasp of Joanne's fingers, and a terrible +thought flashed into John's brain. Perhaps a, rock from the slide had cut a +wire, and they had found the wire--had repaired it! Was that thought in +Joanne's mind, too? Her finger-nails pricked his flesh. He looked at her. +Her eyes were closed, and her lips were tense and gray. And then her eyes +shot open--wide and staring. They heard, faintly though it came to +them--once, twice, three times, four, five--the firing of a gun! + +John Aldous straightened, and a great breath fell from his lips. + +"Five times!" he said. "It is an answer. There is no longer doubt." + +He was holding out his arms to her, and she came into them with a choking +cry; and now she sobbed like a little child with her head against his +breast, and for many minutes he held her close, kissing her wet face, and +her damp hair, and her quivering lips, while the beat of the picks and the +crash of the rock-hammers came steadily nearer. + +Where those picks and rock-hammers fell a score of men were working like +fiends: Blackton, his arms stripped to the shoulders; Gregg, sweating and +urging the men; and among them--lifting and tearing at the rock like a +madman--old Donald MacDonald, his shirt open, his great hands bleeding, his +hair and beard tossing about him in the wind. Behind them, her hands +clasped to her breast--crying out to them to hurry, _hurry_--stood Peggy +Blackton. The strength of five men was in every pair of arms. Huge boulders +were rolled back. Men pawed earth and shale with their naked hands. +Rock-hammers fell with blows that would have cracked the heart of a granite +obelisk. Half an hour--three quarters--and Blackton came back to where +Peggy was standing, his face black and grimed, his arms red-seared where +the edges of the rocks had caught them, his eyes shining. + +"We're almost there, Peggy," he panted. "Another five minutes and----" + +A shout interrupted him. A cloud of dust rolled out of the mouth of the +tunnel, and into that dust rushed half a dozen men led by old Donald. +Before the dust had settled they began to reappear, and with a shrill +scream Peggy Blackton darted forward and flung her arms about the +gold-shrouded figure of Joanne, swaying and laughing and sobbing in the +sunshine. And old Donald, clasping his great arms about Aldous, cried +brokenly: + +"Oh, Johnny, Johnny--something told me to foller ye--an' I was just in +time--just in time to see you go into the coyote!" + +"God bless you, Mac!" said Aldous, and then Paul Blackton was wringing his +hands; and one after another the others shook his hand, but Peggy Blackton +was crying like a baby as she hugged Joanne in her arms. + +"MacDonald came just in time," explained Blackton a moment later; and he +tried to speak steadily, and tried to smile. "Ten minutes more, and----" + +He was white. + +"Now that it has turned out like this I thank God that it happened, Paul," +said Aldous, for the engineer's ears alone. "We thought we were facing +death, and so--I told her. And in there, on our knees, we pledged ourselves +man and wife. I want the minister--as quick as you can get him, Blackton. +Don't say anything to Joanne, but bring him to the house right away, will +you?" + +"Within half an hour," replied Blackton. "There comes Tony with the +buckboard. We'll hustle up to the house and I'll have the preacher there in +a jiffy." + +As they went to the wagon, Aldous looked about for MacDonald. He had +disappeared. Requesting Gregg to hunt him up and send him to the bungalow, +he climbed into the back seat, with Joanne between him and Peggy. Her +little hand lay in his. Her fingers clung to him. But her hair hid her +face, and on the other side of her Peggy Blackton was laughing and talking +and crying by turns. + +As they entered the bungalow, Aldous whispered to Joanne: + +"Will you please go right to your room, dear? I want to say something to +you--alone." + +When she went up the stair, Peggy caught a signal from her husband. Aldous +remained with them. In two minutes he told the bewildered and finally +delighted Peggy what was going to happen, and as Blackton hustled out for +the minister's house he followed Joanne. She had fastened her door behind +her. He knocked. Slowly she opened it. + +"John----" + +"I have told them, dear," he whispered happily. "They understand. And, +Joanne, Paul Blackton will be back in ten minutes--with the minister. Are +you glad?" + +She had opened the door wide, and he was heading out his arms to her again. +For a moment she did not move, but stood there trembling a little, and +deeper and sweeter grew the colour in her face, and tenderer the look in +her eyes. + +"I must brush my hair," she answered, as though she could think of no other +words. "I--I must dress." + +Laughing joyously, he went to her and gathered the soft masses of her hair +in his hands, and piled it up in a glorious disarray about her face and +head, holding it there, and still laughing into her eyes. + +"Joanne, you are mine!" + +"Unless I have been dreaming--I am, John Aldous!" + +"Forever and forever." + +"Yes, forever--and ever." + +"And because I want the whole world to know, we are going to be married by +a minister." + +She was silent. + +"And as my wife to be," he went on, his voice trembling with his happiness, +"you must obey me!" + +"I think that I shall, John." + +"Then you will not brush your hair, and you will not change your dress, and +you will not wash the dust from your face and that sweet little beauty-spot +from the tip of your nose," he commanded, and now he drew her head close to +him, so that he whispered, half in her hair: "Joanne, my darling, I want +you _wholly_ as you came to me there, when we thought we were going to die. +It was there you promised to become my wife, and I want you as you were +then--when the minister comes." + +"John, I think I hear some one coming up the front steps!" + +They listened. The door opened. They heard voices--Blackton's voice, +Peggy's voice, and another voice--a man's voice. + +Blackton's voice came up to them very distinctly. + +"Mighty lucky, Peggy," he said. "Caught Mr. Wollaver just as he was passing +the house. Where's----" + +"Sh-h-hh!" came Peggy Blackton's sibilant whisper. + +Joanne's hands had crept to John's face. + +"I think," she said, "that it is the minister, John." + +Her warm lips were near, and he kissed them. + +"Come, Joanne. We will go down." + +Hand in hand they went down the stair; and when the minister saw Joanne, +covered in the tangle and glory of her hair; and when he saw John Aldous, +with half-naked arms and blackened face; and when, with these things, he +saw the wonderful joy shining in their eyes, he stood like one struck dumb +at sight of a miracle descending out of the skies. For never had Joanne +looked more beautiful than in this hour, and never had man looked more like +entering into paradise than John Aldous. + +Short and to the point was the little mountain minister's service, and when +he had done he shook hands with them, and again he stared at them as they +went back up the stair, still hand in hand. At her door they stopped. There +were no words to speak now, as her heart lay against his heart, and her +lips against his lips. And then, after those moments, she drew a little +back, and there came suddenly that sweet, quivering, joyous play of her +lips as she said: + +"And now, my husband, may I dress my hair?" + +"My hair," he corrected, and let her go from his arms. + +Her door closed behind her. A little dizzily he turned to his room. His +hand was on the knob when he heard her speak his name. She had reopened her +door, and stood with something in her hand, which she was holding toward +him. He went back, and she gave him a photograph. + +"John, you will destroy this," she whispered. "It is his +photograph--Mortimer FitzHugh's. I brought it to show to people, that it +might help me in my search. Please--destroy it!" + +He returned to his room and placed the photograph on his table. It was +wrapped in thin paper, and suddenly there came upon him a most compelling +desire to see what Mortimer FitzHugh had looked like in life. Joanne would +not care. Perhaps it would be best for him to know. + +He tore off the paper. And as he looked at the picture the hot blood in his +veins ran cold. He stared--stared as if some wild and maddening joke was +being played upon his faculties. A cry rose to his lips and broke in a +gasping breath, and about him the floor, the world itself, seemed slipping +away from under his feet. + +For the picture he held in his hand was the picture of Culver Rann! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +For a minute, perhaps longer, John Aldous stood staring at the photograph +which he held in his hand. It was the picture of Culver Rann--not once did +he question that fact, and not once did the thought flash upon him that +this might be only an unusual and startling resemblance. It was assuredly +Culver Rann! The picture dropped from his hand to the table, and he went +toward the door. His first impulse was to go to Joanne. But when he reached +the door he locked it, and dropped into a chair, facing the mirror in his +dresser. + +The reflection of his own face was a shock to him. If he was pale, the dust +and grime of his fight in the cavern concealed his pallor. But the face +that stared at him from out of the glass was haggard, wildly and almost +grotesquely haggard, and he turned from it with a grim laugh, and set his +jaws hard. He returned to the table, and bit by bit tore the photograph +into thin shreds, and then piled the shreds on his ash-tray and burned +them. He opened a window to let out the smoke and smell of charring paper, +and the fresh, cool air of early evening struck his face. He could look off +through the fading sunshine of the valley and see the mountain where Coyote +Number Twenty-eight was to have done its work, and as he looked he gripped +the window-sill so fiercely that the nails of his fingers were bent and +broken against the wood. And in his brain the same words kept repeating +themselves over and over again. Mortimer FitzHugh was not dead. He was +alive. He was Culver Rann. And Joanne--Joanne was not _his_ wife; she was +still the wife of Mortimer FitzHugh--of Culver Rann! + +He turned again to the mirror, and there was another look in his face. It +was grim, terribly grim--and smiling. There was no excitement, nothing of +the passion and half-madness with which he had faced Quade and Rann the +night before. He laughed softly, and his nails dug as harshly into the +palms of his hands as they had dug into the sills of the window. + +"You poor, drivelling, cowardly fool!" he said to his reflection. "And you +dare to say--you dare to _think_ that she is not your wife?" + +As if in reply to his words there came a knock at the door, and from the +hall Blackton called: + +"Here's MacDonald, Aldous. He wants to see you." + +Aldous opened the door and the old hunter entered. + +"If I ain't interruptin' you, Johnny----" + +"You're the one man in the world I want to see, Mac. No, I'll take that +back; there's one other I want to see worse than you--Culver Rann." + +The strange look in his face made old Donald stare. + +"Sit down," he said, drawing two chairs close to the table. "There's +something to talk about. It was a terribly close shave, wasn't it?" + +"An awful close shave, Johnny. As close a shave as ever was." + +Still, as if not quite understanding what he saw, old Donald was staring +into John's face. + +"I'm glad it happened," said Aldous, and his voice became softer. "She +loves me, Mac. It all came out when we were in there, and thought we were +going to die. Not ten minutes ago the minister was here, and he made us man +and wife." + +Words of gladness that sprang to the old man's lips were stopped by that +strange, cold, tense look in the face of John Aldous. + +"And in the last five minutes," continued Aldous, as quietly as before, "I +have learned that Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband, is not dead. Is it very +remarkable that you do not find me happy, Mac? If you had come a few +minutes ago----" + +"Oh, my God! Johnny! Johnny!" + +MacDonald had pitched forward over the table, and now he bowed his great +shaggy head in his hands, and his gaunt shoulders shook as his voice came +brokenly through his beard. + +"I did it, Johnny; I did it for you an' her! When I knew what it would mean +for her--I _couldn't_, Johnny, I couldn't tell her the truth, 'cause I knew +she loved you, an' you loved her, an' it would break her heart. I thought +it would be best, an' you'd go away together, an' nobody would ever know, +an' you'd be happy. I didn't lie. I didn't say anything. But +Johnny--Johnny, _there weren't no bones in the grave!_" + +"My God!" breathed Aldous. + +"There were just some clothes," went on MacDonald huskily, "an' the watch +an' the ring were on top. Johnny, there weren't nobody ever buried there, +an' I'm to blame--I'm to blame." + +"And you did that for us," cried Aldous, and suddenly he reached over and +gripped old Donald's hands. "It wasn't a mistake, Mac. I thank God you kept +silent. If you had told her that the grave was empty, that it was a fraud, +I don't know what would have happened. And now--she is _mine!_ If she had +seen Culver Rann, if she had discovered that this scoundrel, this +blackmailer and murderer, was Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband----" + +"Johnny! John Aldous!" + +Donald MacDonald's voice came now like the deep growling roar of a +she-bear, and as he cried the other's name he sprang to his feet, and his +eyes gleamed in their deep sockets like raging fires. + +"Johnny!" + +Aldous rose, and he was smiling. He nodded. + +"That's it," he said. "Mortimer FitzHugh is Culver Rann!" + +"An'--an' you know this?" + +"Absolutely. Joanne gave me Mortimer FitzHugh's photograph to destroy. I am +sorry that I burned it before you saw it. But there is no doubt. Mortimer +FitzHugh and Culver Rann are the same man." + +Slowly the old mountaineer turned to the door. Aldous was ahead of him, and +stood with his hand on the knob. + +"I don't want you to go yet, Mac." + +"I--I'll see you a little later," said Donald clumsily. + +"Donald!" + +"Johnny!" + +For a full half minute they looked steadily into each other's eyes. + +"Only a week, Johnny," pleaded Donald. "I'll be back in a week." + +"You mean that you will kill him?" + +"He'll never come back. I swear it, Johnny!" + +As gently as he might have led Joanne, Aldous drew the mountaineer back to +the chair. + +"That would be cold-blooded murder," he said, "and I would be the murderer. +I can't send you out to do my killing, Mac, as I might send out a hired +assassin. Don't you see that I can't? Good heaven, some day--very soon--I +will tell you how this hound, Mortimer FitzHugh, poisoned Joanne's life, +and did his worst to destroy her. It's to me he's got to answer, Donald. +And to me he shall answer. I am going to kill him. But it will not be +murder. Since you have come into this room I have made my final plan, and I +shall follow it to the end coolly and deliberately. It will be a great +game, Mac--and it will be a fair game; and I shall play it happily, because +Joanne will not know, and I will be strengthened by her love. + +"Quade wants my life, and tried to hire Stevens, up at Miette, to kill me. +Culver Rann wants my life; a little later it will come to be the greatest +desire of his existence to have me dead and out of the way. I shall give +him the chance to do the killing, Mac. I shall give him a splendid chance, +and he will not fail to accept his opportunity. Perhaps he will have an +advantage, but I am as absolutely certain of killing him as I am that the +sun is going down behind the mountains out there. If others should step +in, if I should have more than Culver Rann on my hands--why, then you may +deal yourself a hand if you like, Donald. It may be a bigger game than One +against One." + +"It will," rumbled MacDonald. "I learned other things early this afternoon, +Johnny. Quade did not stay behind. He went with Rann. DeBar and the woman +are with them, and two other men. They went over the Lone Cache Pass, and +this minute are hurrying straight for the headwaters of the Parsnip. There +are five of 'em--five men." + +"And we are two," smiled Aldous. "So there _is_ an advantage on their side, +isn't there, Mac? And it makes the game most eminently fair, doesn't it?" + +"Johnny, we're good for the five!" cried old Donald in a low, eager voice. +"If we start now----" + +"Can you have everything ready by morning?" + +"The outfit's waiting. It's ready now, Johnny." + +"Then we'll leave at dawn. I'll come to you to-night in the coulee, and +we'll make our final plans. My brain is a little muddled now, and I've got +to clear it, and make myself presentable before supper. We must not let +Joanne know. She must suspect nothing--absolutely nothing." + +"Nothing," repeated MacDonald as he went to the door. + +There he paused and, hesitating for a moment, leaned close to Aldous, and +said in a low voice: + +"Johnny, I've been wondering why the grave were empty. I've been wondering +why there weren't somebody's bones there just t' give it the look it should +'a' had an' why the clothes were laid out so nicely with the watch an' the +ring on top!" + +With that he was gone, and Aldous closed and relocked the door. + +He was amazed at his own composure as he washed himself and proceeded to +dress for supper. What had happened had stunned him at first, had even +terrified him for a few appalling moments. Now he was superbly +self-possessed. He asked himself questions and answered them with a +promptness which left no room for doubt in his mind as to what his actions +should be. One fact he accepted as absolute: Joanne belonged to him. She +was his wife. He regarded her as that, even though Mortimer FitzHugh was +alive. In the eyes of both God and man FitzHugh no longer had a claim upon +her. This man, who was known as Culver Rann, was worse than Quade, a +scoundrel of the first water, a procurer, a blackmailer, even a +murderer--though he had thus far succeeded in evading the rather loose and +poorly working tentacles of mountain law. + +Not for an instant did he think of Joanne as Culver Rann's wife. She was +_his_ wife. It was merely a technicality of the law--a technicality that +Joanne might break with her little finger--that had risen now between them +and happiness. And it was this that he knew was the mountain in his path, +for he was certain that Joanne would not break that last link of bondage. +She would know, with Mortimer FitzHugh alive, that the pledge between them +in the "coyote," and the marriage ceremony in the room below, meant +nothing. Legally, she was no more to him now than she was yesterday, or the +day before. And she would leave him, even if it destroyed her, heart and +soul. He was sure of that. For years she had suffered her heart to be +ground out of her because of the "bit of madness" that was in her, because +of that earlier tragedy in her life--and her promise, her pledge to her +father, her God, and herself. Without arguing a possible change in her +because of her love for him, John Aldous accepted these things. He believed +that if he told Joanne the truth he would lose her. + +His determination not to tell her, to keep from her the secret of the grave +and the fact that Mortimer FitzHugh was alive, grew stronger in him with +each breath that he drew. He believed that it was the right thing to do, +that it was the honourable and the only thing to do. Now that the first +shock was over, he did not feel that he had lost Joanne, or that there was +a very great danger of losing her. For a moment it occurred to him that he +might turn the law upon Culver Rann, and in the same breath he laughed at +this absurdity. The law could not help him. He alone could work out his own +and Joanne's salvation. And what was to happen must happen very soon--up in +the mountains. When it was all over, and he returned, he would tell Joanne. + +His heart beat more quickly as he finished dressing. In a few minutes more +he would be with Joanne, and in spite of what had happened, and what might +happen, he was happy. Yesterday he had dreamed. To-day was reality--and it +was a glorious reality. Joanne belonged to him. She loved him. She was his +wife, and when he went to her it was with the feeling that only a serpent +lay in the path of their paradise--a serpent which he would crush with as +little compunction as that serpent would have destroyed her. Utterly and +remorselessly his mind was made up. + +The Blacktons' supper hour was five-thirty, and he was a quarter of an hour +late when he tapped at Joanne's door. He felt the warmth of a strange and +delightful embarrassment flushing his face as the door opened, and she +stood before him. In her face, too, was a telltale riot of colour which the +deep tan partly concealed in his own. + +"I--I am a little late, am I not, Joanne?" he asked. + +"You are, sir. If you have taken all this time dressing you are worse than +a woman. I have been waiting fifteen minutes!" + +"Old Donald came to see me," he apologized. "Joanne----" + +"You mustn't, John!" she expostulated in a whisper. "My face is afire now! +You mustn't kiss me again--until after supper----" + +"Only once," he pleaded. + +"If you will promise--just once----" + +A moment later she gasped: + +"Five times! John Aldous, I will never believe you again as long as I +live!" + +They went down to the Blacktons, and Peggy and Paul, who were busy over +some growing geraniums in the dining-room window, faced about with a forced +and incongruous appearance of total oblivion to everything that had +happened. It lasted less than ten seconds. Joanne's lips quivered. Aldous +saw the two little dimples at the corners of her mouth fighting to keep +themselves out of sight--and then he looked at Peggy. Blackton could stand +it no longer, and grinned broadly. + +"For goodness sake go to it, Peggy!" he laughed. "If you don't you'll +explode!" + +The next moment Peggy and Joanne were in each other's arms, and the two men +were shaking hands. + +"We know just how you feel," Blackton tried to explain. "We felt just like +you do, only we had to face twenty people instead of two. And you're not +hungry. I'll wager that. I'll bet you don't feel like swallowing a +mouthful. It had that peculiar effect on us, didn't it, Peggy?" + +"And I--I almost choked myself," gurgled Peggy as they took their places at +the table. "There really did seem to be something thick in my throat, +Joanne, dear. I coughed and coughed and coughed before all those people +until I wanted to die right there! And I'm wondering----" + +"If I'm going to choke, too?" smiled Joanne. "Indeed not, Peggy. I'm as +hungry as a bear!" + +And now she did look glorious and self-possessed to Aldous as she sat +opposite him at that small round table, which was just fitted for four. He +told her so when the meal was finished, and they were following the +Blacktons into the front room. Blackton had evidently been carefully +drilled along the line of a certain scheme which Peggy had formed, for in +spite of a negative nod from her, which signified that he was to wait a +while, he pulled out his watch, and said: + +"It isn't at all surprising if you people have forgotten that to-morrow is +Sunday. Peggy and I always do some Saturday-night shopping, and if you +don't mind, we'll leave you to care for the house while we go to town. We +won't be gone more than an hour." + +A few minutes later, when the door had closed behind them, Aldous led +Joanne to a divan, and sat down beside her. + +"I couldn't have arranged it better myself, dear," he exclaimed. "I have +been wondering how I could have you alone for a few minutes, and tell you +what is on my mind before I see MacDonald again to-night. I'm afraid you +will be displeased with me, Joanne. I hardly know how to begin. But--I've +got to." + +A moment's uneasiness came into her eyes as she saw how seriously he was +speaking. + +"You don't mean, John--there's more about Quade--and Culver Rann?" + +"No, no--nothing like that," he laughed, as though amused at the absurdity +of her question. "Old Donald tells me they have skipped the country, +Joanne. It's not that. It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of +me a minute from now. Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald. He has +lived in my promise. I've got to keep that promise--I must go into the +North with him." + +She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her +own soft palm and fingers. + +"Of course, you must, John. I love old Donald." + +"And I must go--soon," he added. + +"It is only fair to him that you should," she agreed. + +"He--he is determined we shall go in the morning," he finished, keeping his +eyes from her. + +For a moment Joanne did not answer. Her fingers interweaved with his, her +warm little palm stroked the rough back of his hand. Then she said, very +softly: + +"And why do you think that will displease me, John, dear? I will be ready!" + +"You!" + +Her eyes were on him, full, and dark, and glowing, and in them were both +love and laughter. + +"You dear silly John!" she laughed. "Why don't you come right out and tell +me to stay at home, instead of--of--'beating 'round the bush'--as Peggy +Blackton says? Only you don't know what a terrible little person you've +got, John. You really don't. So you needn't say any more. We'll start in +the morning--and I am going with you!" + +In a flash John Aldous saw his whole scheme shaking on its foundation. + +"It's impossible--utterly impossible!" he gasped. + +"And why utterly?" she asked, bending her head so that her soft hair +touched his face and lips. "John, have you already forgotten what we said +in that terrible cavern--what we told ourselves we would have done if we +had lived? We were going adventuring, weren't we? And we are not dead--but +alive. And this will be a glorious trip! Why, John, don't you see, don't +you understand? It will be our honeymoon trip!" + +"It will be a long, rough journey," he argued. "It will be hard--hard for a +woman." + +With a little laugh, Joanne sprang up and stood before him in a glow of +light, tall, and slim, and splendid, and there was a sparkle of beautiful +defiance and a little of triumph in her eyes as she looked down on him. + +"And it will be dangerous, too? You are going to tell me that?" + +"Yes, it will be dangerous." + +She came to him and rumpled up his hair, and turned his face up so that she +could look into his eyes. + +"Is it worse than fever, and famine, and deep swamps, and crawling +jungles?" she asked. "Are we going to encounter worse things than beasts, +and poisonous serpents, and murderous savages--even hunger and thirst, +John? For many years we dared those together--my father and I. Are these +great, big, beautiful mountains more treacherous than those Ceylon jungles +from which you ran away--even you, John? Are they more terrible to live in +than the Great African Desert? Are your bears worse than tigers, your +wolves more terrible than lions? And if, through years and years, I faced +those things with my father, do you suppose that I want to be left behind +now, and by my husband?" + +So sweet and wonderful was the sound of that name as it came softly from +her lips, that in his joy he forgot the part he was playing, and drew her +close down in his arms, and in that moment all that remained of the scheme +he had built for keeping her behind crumbled in ruin about him. + +Yet in a last effort he persisted. + +"Old Donald wants to travel fast--very fast, Joanne. I owe a great deal to +him. Even you I owe to him--for he saved us from the 'coyote.'" + +"I am going, John." + +"If we went alone we would be able to return very soon." + +"I am going." + +"And some of the mountains--it is impossible for a woman to climb them!" + +"Then I will let you carry me up them, John. You are so strong----" + +He groaned hopelessly. + +"Joanne, won't you stay with the Blacktons, to please me?" + +"No. I don't care to please you." + +Her fingers were stroking his cheek. + +"John?" + +"Yes." + +"Father taught me to shoot, and as we get better acquainted on our +honeymoon trip I'll tell you about some of my hunting adventures. I don't +like to shoot wild things, because I love them too well. But I can shoot. +And I want a gun!" + +"Great Scott!" + +"Not a toy--but a real gun," she continued. "A gun like yours. And then, if +by any chance we should have trouble--with Culver Rann----" + +She felt him start, and her hands pressed harder against his face. + +"Now I know," she whispered. "I guessed it all along. You told me that +Culver Rann and the others were after the gold. They've gone--and their +going isn't quite 'skipping the country' as you meant me to understand it, +John Aldous! So please let's not argue any more. If we do we may quarrel, +and that would be terrible. I'm going. And I will be ready in the morning. +And I want a gun. And I want you to be nice to me, and I want it to be our +honeymoon--even if it is going to be exciting!" + +And with that she put her lips to his, and his last argument was gone. + +Two hours later, when he went to the coulee, he was like one who had come +out of a strange and disturbing and altogether glorious dream. He had told +Joanne and the Blacktons that it was necessary for him to be with MacDonald +that night. Joanne's good-night kiss was still warm on his lips, the loving +touch of her hands still trembled on his face, and the sweet perfume of her +hair was in his nostrils. He was drunk with the immeasurable happiness that +had come to him, every fibre in him was aquiver with it--and yet, possessed +of his great joy, he was conscious of a fear; a fear that was new and +growing, and which made him glad when he came at last to the little fire in +the coulee. + +He did not tell MacDonald the cause of this fear at first. He told the +story of Mortimer FitzHugh and Joanne, leaving no part of it unbared, until +he could see Donald MacDonald's great gaunt hands clenching in the +firelight, and his cavernous eyes flaming darkly through the gloom. Then he +told what had happened when the Blacktons went to town, and when he had +finished, and rose despairingly beside the fire, Donald rose, too, and his +voice boomed in a sort of ecstasy. + +"My Jane would ha' done likewise," he cried in triumph. "She would that, +Johnny--she would!" + +"But this is different!" groaned Aldous. "What am I going to do, Mac? What +can I do? Don't you see how impossible it is! Mac, Mac--she isn't my +wife--not entirely, not absolutely, not in the last and vital sense of +being a wife by law! If she knew the truth, she wouldn't consider herself +my wife; she would leave me. For that reason I can't take her. I can't. +Think what it would mean!" + +Old Donald had come close to his side, and at the look in the gray old +mountaineer's face John Aldous paused. Slowly Donald laid his hands on his +shoulders. + +"Johnny," he said gently, "Johnny, be you sure of yourself? Be you a man, +Johnny?" + +"Good heaven, Donald. You mean----" + +Their eyes met steadily. + +"If you are, Johnny," went on MacDonald in a low voice, "I'd take her with +me. An' if you ain't, I'd leave these mount'ins to-night an' never look in +her sweet face again as long as I lived." + +"You'd take her along?" demanded Aldous eagerly. + +"I would. I've been thinkin' it over to-night. An' something seemed to tell +me we mustn't dare leave her here alone. There's just two things to do, +Johnny. You've got to stay with her an' let me go on alone or--you've got +to take her." + +Slowly Aldous shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was a little after +ten. + +"If I could make myself believe that she would not be safe here--I would +take her," he said. "But I can't quite make up my mind to that, Mac. She +will be in good hands with the Blacktons. I will warn Paul. Joanne is +determined to go, and I know she will think it pretty indecent to be told +emphatically that she can't go. But I've got to do it. I can't see----" + +A break in the stillness of the night stopped him with the suddenness of a +bullet in his brain. It was a scream--a woman's scream, and there followed +it shriek after shriek, until the black forest trembled with the fear and +agony of the cries, and John Aldous stood as if suddenly stripped of the +power to move or act. Donald MacDonald roused him to life. With a roar in +his beard, he sprang forth into the darkness. And Aldous followed, a hot +sweat of fear in his blood where a moment before had been only a chill of +wonder and horror. For in Donald's savage beastlike cry he had caught +Joanne's name, and an answering cry broke from his own lips as he followed +the great gaunt form that was tearing with the madness of a wounded bear +ahead of him through the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Not until they had rushed up out of the coulee and had reached the pathlike +trail did the screaming cease. For barely an instant MacDonald paused, and +then ran on with a speed that taxed Aldous to keep up. When they came to +the little open amphitheatre in the forest MacDonald halted again. Their +hearts were thumping like hammers, and the old mountaineer's voice came +husky and choking when he spoke. + +"It wasn't far--from here!" he panted. + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when he sped on again. Three minutes +later they came to where the trail crossed the edge of a small +rock-cluttered meadow, and with a sudden spurt Aldous darted ahead of +MacDonald into this opening, where he saw two figures in the moonlight. +Half a dozen feet from them he stopped with a cry of horror. They were Paul +and Peggy Blackton! Peggy was dishevelled and sobbing, and was frantically +clutching at her husband. It was Paul Blackton who dragged the cry from his +lips. The contractor was swaying. He was hatless; his face was covered with +blood, and his eyes were only half open, as if he were fighting to pull +himself back into consciousness after a terrible blow. Peggy's hair was +down, her dress was torn at the throat, and she was panting so that for a +moment she could not speak. + +"They've got--Joanne!" she cried then. "They went--there!" + +She pointed, and Aldous ran where she pointed--into the timber on the far +side of the little meadow. MacDonald caught his arm as they ran. + +"You go straight in," he commanded. "I'll swing--to right--toward +river----" + +For two minutes after that Aldous tore straight ahead. Then for barely a +moment he stopped. He had not paused to question Peggy Blackton. His own +fears told him who Joanne's abductors were. They were men working under +instructions from Quade. And they could not be far away, for scarcely ten +minutes had passed since the first scream. He listened, and held his breath +so that the terrific beating of his heart would not drown the sound of +crackling brush. All at once the blood in him was frozen by a fierce yell. +It was MacDonald, a couple of hundred yards to his right, and after that +yell came the bellowing shout of his name. + +"Johnny! Johnny! Oh, Johnny!" + +He dashed in MacDonald's direction, and a few moments later heard the +crashing of bodies in the undergrowth. Fifty seconds more and he was in the +arena. MacDonald was fighting three men in a space over which the +spruce-tops grew thinly. The moon shone upon them as they swayed in a +struggling mass, and as Aldous sprang to the combat one of the three reeled +backward and fell as if struck by a battering-ram. In that same moment +MacDonald went down, and Aldous struck a terrific blow with the butt of his +heavy Savage. He missed, and the momentum of his blow carried him over +MacDonald. He tripped and fell. By the time he had regained his, feet the +two men had disappeared into the thick shadows of the spruce forest. Aldous +whirled toward the third man, whom he had seen fall. He, too, had +disappeared. A little lamely old Donald brought himself to his feet. He was +smiling. + +"Now, what do 'ee think, Johnny?" + +"Where is she? Where is Joanne?" demanded Aldous. + +"Twenty feet behind you, Johnny, gagged an' trussed up nice as a whistle! +If they hadn't stopped to do that work you wouldn't ha' seen her ag'in, +Johnny--s'elp me, God, you wouldn't! They was hikin' for the river. Once +they had reached the Frazer, and a boat----" + +He broke off to lead Aldous to a clump of dwarf spruce. Behind this, white +and still in the moonlight, but with eyes wide open and filled with horror, +lay Joanne. Hands and feet were bound, and a big handkerchief was tied over +her mouth. Twenty seconds later Aldous held her shivering and sobbing and +laughing hysterically by turns in his arms, while MacDonald's voice brought +Paul and Peggy Blackton to them. Blackton had recovered from the blow that +had dazed him. Over Joanne's head he stared at Aldous. And MacDonald was +staring at Blackton. His eyes were burning a little darkly. + +"It's all come out right," he said, "but it ain't a special nice time o' +night to be taking a' evening walk in this locality with a couple o' +ladies!" + +Blackton was still staring at Aldous, with Peggy clutching his arm as if +afraid of losing him. + +It was Peggy who answered MacDonald. + +"And it was a nice time of night for you to send a message asking us to +bring Joanne down the trail!" she cried, her voice trembling. + +"We----" began Aldous, when he saw a sudden warning movement on MacDonald's +part, and stopped. "Let us take the ladies home," he said. + +With Joanne clinging to him, he led the way. Behind them all MacDonald +growled loudly: + +"There's got t' be something done with these damned beasts of furriners. +It's gettin' so no woman ain't safe at night!" + +Twenty minutes later they reached the bungalow. Leaving Joanne and Peggy +inside, now as busily excited as two phoebe birds, and after Joanne had +insisted upon Aldous sleeping at the Blacktons' that night, the two men +accompanied MacDonald a few steps on his way back to camp. + +As soon as they were out of earshot Blackton began cursing softly under his +breath. + +"So you didn't send that damned note?" he asked. "You haven't said so, but +I've guessed you didn't send it!" + +"No, we didn't send a note." + +"And you had a reason--you and MacDonald--for not wanting the girls to know +the truth?" + +"A mighty good reason," said Aldous. "I've got to thank MacDonald for +closing my mouth at the right moment. I was about to give it away. And now, +Blackton, I've got to confide in you. But before I do that I want your word +that you will repeat nothing of what I say to another person--even your +wife." + +Blackton nodded. + +"Go on," he said. "I've suspected a thing or two, Aldous. I'll give you my +word. Go on." + +As briefly as possible, and without going deeply into detail, Aldous told +of Quade and his plot to secure possession of Joanne. + +"And this is his work," he finished. "I've told you this, Paul, so that you +won't worry about Peggy. You can see from to-night's events that they were +not after her, but wanted Joanne. Joanne must not learn the truth. And your +wife must not know. I am going to settle with Quade. Just how and where and +when I'm going to settle with him I don't care to say now. But he's going +to answer to me. And he's going to answer soon." + +Blackton whistled softly. + +"A boy brought the note," he said. "He stood in the dark when he handed it +to me. And I didn't recognize any one of the three men who jumped out on +us. I didn't have much of a chance to fight, but if there's any one on the +face of the earth who has got it over Peggy when it comes to screaming, I'd +like to know her name! Joanne didn't have time to make a sound. But they +didn't touch Peggy until she began screaming, and then one of the men began +choking her. They had about laid me out with a club, so I was helpless. +Good God----" + +He shuddered. + +"They were river men," said MacDonald. "Probably some of Tomman's scow-men. +They were making for the river." + +A few minutes later, when Aldous was saying good-night to MacDonald, the +old hunter said again, in a whisper: + +"Now what do 'ee think, Johnny?" + +"That you're right, Mac," replied Aldous in a low voice. "There is no +longer a choice. Joanne must go with us. You will come early?" + +"At dawn, Johnny." + +He returned to the bungalow with Blackton, and until midnight the lights +there burned brightly while the two men answered a thousand questions about +the night's adventure, and Aldous told of his and Joanne's plans for the +honeymoon trip into the North that was to begin the next day. + +It was half-past twelve when be locked the door of his and sat down to +think. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There was no doubt in the mind of John Aldous now. The attempt upon Joanne +left him but one course to pursue: he must take her with him, in spite of +the monumental objections which he had seen a few hours before. He realized +what a fight this would mean for him, and with what cleverness and resource +he must play his part. Joanne had not given herself to him as she had once +given herself to Mortimer FitzHugh. In the "coyote," when they had faced +death, she had told him that were there to be a to-morrow in life for them +she would have given herself to him utterly and without reservation. And +that to-morrow had dawned. It was present. She was his wife. And she had +come to him as she had promised. In her eyes he had seen love and trust and +faith--and a glorious happiness. She had made no effort to hide that +happiness from him. Consciousness of it filled him with his own great +happiness, and yet it made him realize even more deeply how hard his fight +was to be. She was his wife. In a hundred little ways she had shown him +that she was proud of her wifehood. And again he told himself that she had +come to him as she had promised, that she had given into his keeping all +that she had to give. And yet--_she was not his wife!_ + +He groaned aloud, and his fingers dug into the flesh of his knees as he +thought of that. Could he keep that terrible truth from her? If she went +with him into the North, would she not guess? And, even though he kept the +truth from her until Mortimer FitzHugh was dead, would he be playing fair +with her? Again he went over all that he had gone over before. He knew that +Joanne would leave him to-morrow, and probably forever, if he told her that +FitzHugh was alive. The law could not help him, for only death--and never +divorce--would free her. Within himself he decided for the last time. He +was about to do the one thing left for him to do. And it was the honourable +thing, for it meant freedom for her and happiness for them both. To him, +Donald MacDonald had become a man who lived very close to the heart and the +right of things, and Donald had said that he should take her. This was the +greatest proof that he was right. + +But could he keep Joanne from guessing? Could he keep her from discovering +the truth until it was time for her to know that truth? In this necessity +of keeping her from suspecting that something was wrong he saw his greatest +fight. Compared with it, the final settlement with Quade and Mortimer +FitzHugh sank into a second importance. He knew what would happen then. But +Joanne--Joanne on the trail, as his wife---- + +He began pacing back and forth in his room, clouding himself in the smoke +of his pipe. Frequently Joanne's mind had filled him with an exquisite +delight by its quickness and at times almost magic perceptiveness, and he +realized that in these things, and the fineness of her woman's intuition, +now lay his greatest menace. He was sure that she understood the meaning of +the assault upon her that night, though she had apparently believed what +he and Blackton had told them--that it had been the attack of +irresponsible and drunken hoodlums. Yet he was certain that she had already +guessed that Quade had been responsible. + +He went to bed, dreading what questions and new developments the morning +might bring forth. And when the morning came, he was both amazed and +delighted. The near tragedy of the previous night might never have happened +in so far as he could judge from Joanne's appearance. When she came out of +her room to meet him, in the glow of a hall lamp, her eyes were like stars, +and the colour in her cheeks was like that of a rose fresh from its slumber +in dew. + +"I'm so happy, and what happened last night seems so like a bad dream," she +whispered, as he held her close to him for a few moments before descending +the stairs. "I shall worry about Peggy, John. I shall. I don't understand +how her husband dares to bring her among savages like these. You wouldn't +leave me among them, would you?" And as she asked the question, and his +lips pressed hers, John Aldous still believed that in her heart she knew +the truth of that night attack. + +If she did know, she kept her secret from him all that day. They left Tête +Jaune before sunrise with an outfit which MacDonald had cut down to six +horses. Its smallness roused Joanne's first question, for Aldous had +described to her an outfit of twenty horses. He explained that a large +outfit made travel much more difficult and slow, but he did not tell her +that with six horses instead of twenty they could travel less +conspicuously, more easily conceal themselves from enemies, and, if +necessary, make quick flight or swift pursuit. + +They stopped to camp for the night in a little basin that drew from Joanne +an exclamation of joy and wonder. They had reached the upper timber-line, +and on three sides the basin was shut in by treeless and brush-naked walls +of the mountains. In the centre of the dip was a lake fed by a tiny stream +that fell in a series of ribbonlike cataracts a sheer thousand feet from +the snow-peaks that towered above them. Small, parklike clumps of spruce +dotted the miniature valley; over it hung a sky as blue as sapphire and +under their feet was a carpet of soft grass sprayed with little blue +forget-me-nots and wild asters. + +"I have never seen anything a half so beautiful as this!" cried Joanne, as +Aldous helped her from her horse. + +As her feet touched the ground she gave a little cry and hung limply in his +arms. + +"I'm lame--lame for life!" she laughed in mock humour. "John, I can't +stand. I really can't!" + +Old Donald was chuckling in his beard as he came up. + +"You ain't nearly so lame as you'll be to-morrow," he comforted her. "An' +you won't be nearly so lame to-morrow as you'll be next day. Then you'll +begin to get used to it, Mis' Joanne." + +"_Mrs. Aldous_, Donald," she corrected sweetly. "Or--just Joanne." + +At that Aldous found himself holding her so closely that she gave a little +gasp. + +"Please don't," she expostulated. "Your arms are terribly strong, John!" + +MacDonald had turned away, still chuckling, and began to unpack. Joanne +looked behind her, then quickly held up her softly pouted lips. Aldous +kissed her, and would have kissed her again but she slipped suddenly from +his arms and going to Pinto began to untie a dishpan that was fastened to +the top of his pack. + +"Get to work, John Aldous!" she commanded. + +MacDonald had camped before in the basin, and there were tepee poles ready +cut, as light and dry as matchwood. Joanne watched them as they put up the +tent, and when it was done, and she looked inside, she cried delightedly: + +"It's the snuggest little home I ever had, John!" + +After that she busied herself in a way that was a constantly growing +pleasure to him. She took possession at once of pots and pans and kettles. +She lost no time in impressing upon both Aldous and MacDonald the fact that +while she was their docile follower on the trail she was to be at the head +of affairs in camp. While they were straightening out the outfit, hobbling +the horses, and building a fire, she rummaged through the panniers and took +stock of their provisions. She bossed old Donald in a manner that made him +fairly glow with pleasure. She bared her white arms to the elbows and made +biscuits for the "reflector" instead of bannock, while Aldous brought water +from the lake, and MacDonald cut wood. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes +were laughing, joyous, happy. MacDonald seemed years younger. He obeyed her +like a boy, and once Aldous caught him looking at her in a way that set him +thinking again of those days of years and years ago, and of other camps, +and of another woman--like Joanne. + +MacDonald had thought of this first camp--and there were porterhouse steaks +for supper, which he had brought packed in a kettle of ice. When they sat +down to the meal, Joanne was facing a distant snow-capped ridge that cut +the skyline, and the last of the sun, reflected from the face of the +mountain on the east, had set brown-and-gold fires aglow in her hair. They +were partly through when her eyes rested on the distant snow-ridge. Aldous +saw her looking steadily. Suddenly she pointed beyond him. + +"I see something moving over the snow on that mountain!" she cried a little +excitedly. "It is hurrying toward the summit--just under the skyline! What +is it?" + +Aldous and MacDonald looked toward the ridge. Fully a mile away, almost +even with the skyline now, a small dark object was moving over the white +surface of the snow. + +"It ain't a goat," said MacDonald, "because a goat is white, and we +couldn't see it on the snow. It ain't a sheep, 'cause it's too dark, an' +movin' too slow. It must be a bear, but why in the name o' sin a bear would +be that high, I don't know!" + +He jumped up and ran for his telescope. + +"A grizzly," whispered Joanne tensely. "Would it be a grizzly, John?" + +"Possibly," he answered. "Indeed, it's very likely. This is a grizzly +country. If we hurry you can get a look at him through the telescope." + +MacDonald was already studying the object through his long glass when they +joined him. + +"It's a bear," he said. + +"Please--please let me look at him," begged Joanne. + +The dark object was now almost on the skyline. Half A minute more and it +would pass over and out of sight. MacDonald still held his eye to the +telescope, as though he had not heard Joanne. Not until the moving object +had crossed the skyline, and had disappeared, did he reply to her. + +"The light's bad, an' you couldn't have made him out very well," he said. +"We'll show you plenty o' grizzlies, an' so near you won't want a +telescope. Eh, Johnny?" + +As he looked at Aldous there was a strange look in his eyes, and during the +remainder of the supper he was restless, and ate hurriedly. When he had +finished he rose and picked up his long rifle. + +"There's sheep somewhere near this basin, Johnny," he explained. "An' I +reckon Joanne'll scold us if we don't keep her in fresh meat. I'm goin' to +bring in some mutton if there's any to be got, an' I probably won't be back +until after dark." + +Aldous knew that he had more to say, and he went with him a few steps +beyond the camp. + +And MacDonald continued in a low, troubled voice: + +"Be careful, Johnny. Watch yo'rself. I'm going to take a look over into the +next valley, an' I won't be back until late. It wasn't a goat, an' it +wasn't a sheep, an' it wasn't a bear. It was two-legged! It was a man, +Johnny, an' he was there to watch this trail, or my name ain't Donald +MacDonald. Mebby he came ahead of us last night, an' mebby he was here +before that happened. Anyway, be on your guard while I look over into the +next range." + +With that he struck off in the direction of the snow-ridge, and for a few +moments Aldous stood looking after the tall, picturesque figure until it +disappeared behind a clump of spruce. Swiftly he was telling himself that +it was not the hunting season, and that it was not a prospector whom they +had seen on the snow-ridge. As a matter of caution, there could be but one +conclusion to draw. The man had been stationed there either by Quade or +FitzHugh, or both, and had unwittingly revealed himself. + +He turned toward Joanne, who had already begun to gather up the supper +things. He could hear her singing happily, and as he looked she pressed a +finger to her lips and threw a kiss to him. His heart smote him even as he +smiled and waved a hand in response. Then he went to her. How slim and +wonderful she looked in that glow of the setting sun, he thought. How white +and soft were her hands, how tender and fragile her lovely neck! And how +helpless--how utterly helpless she would be if anything happened to him and +MacDonald! With an effort he flung the thought from him. On his knees he +wiped the dishes and pots and pans for Joanne. When this was done, he +seized an axe and showed her how to gather a bed. This was a new and +delightful experience for Joanne. + +"You always want to cut balsam boughs when you can get them," he explained, +pausing before two small trees. "Now, this is a cedar, and this is a +balsam. Notice how prickly and needlelike on all sides these cedar branches +are. And now look at the balsam. The needles lay flat and soft. Balsam +makes the best bed you can get in the North, except moss, and you've got to +dry the moss." + +For fifteen minutes he clipped off the soft ends of the balsam limbs and +Joanne gathered them in her arms and carried them into the tepee. Then he +went in with her, and showed her how to make the bed. He made it a narrow +bed, and a deep bed, and he knew that Joanne was watching him, and he was +glad the tan hid the uncomfortable glow in his face when he had finished +tucking in the end of the last blanket. + +"You will be as cozy as can be in that," he said. + +"And you, John?" she asked, her face flushing rosily. "I haven't seen +another tent for you and Donald." + +"We don't sleep in a tent during the summer," he said. "Just our +blankets--out in the open." + +"But--if it should rain?" + +"We get under a balsam or a spruce or a thick cedar." + +A little later they stood beside the fire. It was growing dusk. The distant +snow-ridge was swiftly fading into a pale and ghostly sheet in the gray +gloom of the night. Up that ridge Aldous knew that MacDonald was toiling. + +Joanne put her hands to his shoulders. + +"Are you sorry--so very, very sorry that you let me come, John?" + +"I didn't let you come," he laughed softly, drawing her to him. "You came!" + +"And are you sorry?" + +"No." + +It was deliciously sweet to have her tilt up her head and put her soft lips +to his, and it was still sweeter when her tender hands stroked his cheeks, +and eyes and lips smiled their love and gladness. He stood stroking her +hair, with her face laying warm and close against him, and over her head he +stared into the thickening darkness of the spruce and cedar copses. Joanne +herself had piled wood on the fire, and in its glow they were dangerously +illuminated. With one of her hands she was still caressing his cheek. + +"When will Donald return?" she asked. + +"Probably not until late," he replied, wondering what it was that had set a +stone rolling down the side of the mountain nearest to them. "He hunted +until dark, and may wait for the moon to come up before he returns." + +"John----" + +"Yes, dear?----" And mentally he measured the distance to the nearest clump +of timber between them and the mountain. + +"Let's build a big fire, and sit down on the pannier canvases." + +His eyes were still on the timber, and he was wondering what a man with a +rifle, or even a pistol, might do at that space. He made a good target, and +MacDonald was probably several miles away. + +"I've been thinking about the fire," he said. "We must put it out, Joanne. +There are reasons why we should not let it burn. For one thing, the smoke +will drive any game away that we may hope to see in the morning." + +Her hands lay still against his cheek. + +"I--understand, John," she replied quickly, and there was the smallest bit +of a shudder in her voice. "I had forgotten. We must put it out!" + +Five minutes later only a few glowing embers remained where the fire had +been. He had spread out the pannier canvases, and now he seated himself +with his back to a tree. Joanne snuggled close to him. + +"It is much nicer in the dark," she whispered, and her arms reached up +about him, and her lips pressed warm and soft against his hand. "Are you +just a little ashamed of me, John?" + +"Ashamed? Good heaven----" + +"Because," she interrupted him, "we have known each other such a very short +time, and I have allowed myself to become so very, very well acquainted +with you. It has all been so delightfully sudden, and strange, and I +am--just as happy as I can be. You don't think it is immodest for me to say +these things to my husband, John--even if I have only known him three +days?" + +He answered by crushing her so closely in his arms that for a few moments +afterward she lay helplessly on his breast, gasping for breath. His brain +was afire with the joyous madness of possession. Never had woman come to +man more sweetly than Joanne had come to him, and as he felt her throbbing +and trembling against him he was ready to rise up and shout forth a +challenge to a hundred Quades and Culver Ranns hiding in the darkness of +the mountains. For a long time he held her nestled close in his arms, and +at intervals there were silences between them, in which they listened to +the glad tumult of their own hearts, and the strange silence that came to +them from out of the still night. + +It was their first hour alone--of utter oblivion to all else but +themselves; to Joanne the first sacrament hour of her wifehood, to him the +first hour of perfect possession and understanding. In that hour their +souls became one, and when at last they rose to their feet, and the moon +came up over a crag of the mountain and flooded them in its golden light, +there was in Joanne's face a tenderness and a gentle glory that made John +Aldous think of an angel. He led her to the tepee, and lighted a candle +for her, and at the last, with the sweet demand of a child in the manner of +her doing it, she pursed up her lips to be kissed good-night. + +And when he had tied the tent-flap behind her, he took his rifle and sat +down with it across his knees in the deep black shadow of a spruce, and +waited and listened for the coming of Donald MacDonald. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +For an hour after Joanne had gone into her tent Aldous sat silent and +watchful. From where he had concealed himself he could see over a part of +the moonlit basin, and guard the open space between the camp and the clump +of timber that lay in the direction of the nearest mountain. After Joanne +had blown out her candle the silence of the night seemed to grow deeper +about him. The hobbled horses had wandered several hundred yards away, and +only now and then could he hear the thud of a hoof, or the clank of a steel +shoe on rock. He believed that it was impossible for any one to approach +without ears and eyes giving him warning, and he felt a distinct shock when +Donald MacDonald suddenly appeared in the moonlight not twenty paces from +him. With an ejaculation of amazement he jumped to his feet and went to +him. + +"How the deuce did you get here?" he demanded. + +"Were you asleep, Johnny?" + +"I was awake--and watching!" + +The old hunter chuckled. + +"It was so still when I come to those trees back there that I thought mebby +something had 'appened," he said. + +"So, I sneaked up, Johnny." + +"Did you see anything over the range?" asked Aldous anxiously. + +"I found footprints in the snow, an' when I got to the top I smelled smoke, +but couldn't see a fire. It was dark then." MacDonald nodded toward the +tepee. "Is she asleep, Johnny?" + +"I think so. She must be very tired." + +They drew back into the shadow of the spruce. It was a simultaneous +movement of caution, and both, without speaking their thoughts, realized +the significance of it. Until now they had had no opportunity of being +alone since last night. + +MacDonald spoke in a low, muffled voice: + +"Quade an' Culver Rann are goin' the limit, Johnny," he said. "They left +men on the job at Tête Jaune, and they've got others watching us. +Consequently, I've hit on a scheme--a sort of simple and unreasonable +scheme, mebby, but an awful good scheme at times." + +"What is it?" + +"Whenever you see anything that ain't a bear, or a goat, or a sheep, don't +wait to change the time o' day--but shoot!" said MacDonald. + +Aldous smiled grimly. + +"If I had any ideas of chivalry, or what I call fair play, they were taken +out of me last night, Mac," he said. "I'm ready to shoot on sight!" + +MacDonald grunted his satisfaction. + +"They can't beat us if we do that, Johnny. They ain't even ordinary +cut-throats--they're sneaks in the bargain; an' if they could walk in our +camp, smilin' an' friendly, and brain us when our backs was turned, they'd +do it. We don't know who's with them, and if a stranger heaves in sight +meet him with a chunk o' lead. They're the only ones in these mountains, +an' we won't make any mistake. See that bunch of spruce over there?" + +The old hunter pointed to a clump fifty yards beyond the tepee toward the +little lake. Aldous nodded. + +"I'll take my blankets over there," continued MacDonald. "You roll yourself +up here, and the tepee'll be between us. You see the system, Johnny? If +they make us a visit during the night we've got 'em between us, and +there'll be some real burying to do in the morning!" + +Back under the low-hanging boughs of the dwarf spruce Aldous spread out his +blanket a few minutes later. He had made up his mind not to sleep, and for +hours he lay watchful and waiting, smoking occasionally, with his face +close to the ground so that the odour of tobacco would cling to the earth. +The moon rose until it was straight overhead, flooding the valley in a +golden splendour that he wished Joanne might have seen. Then it began +sinking into the west; slowly at first, and then more swiftly, its radiance +diminished. He looked at his watch before the yellow orb effaced itself +behind the towering peak of a distant mountain. It was a quarter of two. + +With deepening darkness, his eyes grew heavier. He closed them for a few +moments at a time; and each time the interval was longer, and it took +greater effort to force himself into wakefulness. Finally he slept. But he +was still subconsciously on guard, and an hour later that consciousness was +beating and pounding within him, urging him to awake. He sat up with a +start and gripped his rifle. An owl was hooting--softly, very softly. There +were four notes. He answered, and a little later MacDonald came like a +shadow out of the gloom. Aldous advanced to meet him, and he noticed that +over the eastern mountains there was a break of gray. + +"It's after three, Johnny," MacDonald greeted him. "Build a fire and get +breakfast. Tell Joanne I'm out after another sheep. Until it's good an' +light I'm going to watch from that clump of timber up there. In half an +hour it'll be dawn." + +He moved toward the timber, and Aldous set about building a fire. He was +careful not to awaken Joanne. The fire was crackling cheerily when he went +to the lake for water. Returning he saw the faint glow of candlelight in +Joanne's tepee. Five minutes later she appeared, and all thought of danger, +and the discomfort of his sleepless night, passed from him at sight of her. +Her eyes were still a little misty with sleep when he took her in his arms +and kissed her, but she was deliciously alive, and glad, and happy. In one +hand she had brought a brush and in the other a comb. + +"You slept like a log," he cried happily. "It can't be that you had very +bad dreams, little wife?" + +"I had a beautiful dream, John," she laughed softly, and the colour flooded +up into her face. + +She unplaited the thick silken strands of her braid and began brushing her +hair in the firelight, while Aldous sliced the bacon. Some of the slices +were thick, and some were thin, for he could not keep his eyes from her as +she stood there like a goddess, buried almost to her knees in that wondrous +mantle. He found himself whistling with a very light heart as she braided +her hair, and afterward plunged her face in a bath of cold water he had +brought from the lake. From that bath she emerged like a glowing Naiad. +Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were pink and her lips full and red. Damp +little tendrils of hair clung adorably about her face and neck. For another +full minute Aldous paused in his labours, and he wondered if MacDonald was +watching them from the clump of timber. The bacon was sputtering when +Joanne ran to it and rescued it from burning. + +Dawn followed quickly after that first break of day in the east, but not +until one could see a full rifle-shot away did MacDonald return to the +camp. Breakfast was waiting, and as soon as he had finished the old hunter +went after the horses. It was five o'clock, and bars of the sun were +shooting over the tops of the mountains when once more they were in the +saddle and on their way. + +Most of this day Aldous headed the outfit up the valley. On the pretext of +searching for game MacDonald rode so far in advance that only twice during +the forenoon was he in sight. When they stopped to camp for the night his +horse was almost exhausted, and MacDonald himself showed signs of +tremendous physical effort. Aldous could not question him before Joanne. He +waited. And MacDonald was strangely silent. + +The proof of MacDonald's prediction concerning Joanne was in evidence this +second night. Every bone in her body ached, and she was so tired that she +made no objection to going to her bed as soon as it was dark. + +"It always happens like this," consoled old Donald, as she bade him +good-night. "To-morrow you'll begin gettin' broke in, an' the next day you +won't have any lameness at all." + +She limped to the tepee with John's arm snugly about her slim waist. +MacDonald waited patiently until he returned. He motioned Aldous to seat +himself close at his side. Both men lighted their pipes before the +mountaineer spoke. + +"We can't both sleep at once to-night, Johnny," he said. "We've got to take +turns keeping watch." + +"You've discovered something to-day?" + +"No. It's what I haven't discovered that counts. There weren't no tracks in +this valley, Johnny, from mount'in to mount'in. They haven't travelled +through this range, an' that leaves just two things for us to figger on. +They're behind us--or DeBar is hitting another trail into the north. There +isn't no danger ahead right now, because we're gettin' into the biggest +ranges between here an' the Yukon. If Quade and Rann are in the next valley +they can't get over the mount'ins to get at us. Quade, with all his flesh, +couldn't climb over that range to the west of us inside o' three days, if +he could get over it at all. They're hikin' straight for the gold over +another trail, or they're behind us, an' mebby both." + +"How--both?" asked Aldous. + +"Two parties," explained MacDonald, puffing hard at his pipe. "If there's +an outfit behind us they were hid in the timber on the other side of the +snow-ridge, and they're pretty close this minute. Culver Rann--or FitzHugh, +as you call him--is hustling straight on with DeBar. Mebby Quade is with +him, an' mebby he ain't. Anyway, there's a big chance of a bunch behind us +with special instructions from Quade to cut our throats and keep Joanne." + +That day Aldous had been turning a question over in his own mind. He asked +it now. + +"Mac, are you sure you can go to the valley of gold without DeBar?" + +For a long half minute MacDonald looked at him, and then his voice rumbled +in a low, exultant laugh in his beard. + +"Johnny," he said, with a strange quiver in his voice, "I can go to it now +straighter an' quicker than DeBar! I know why I never found it. DeBar +helped me that much. The trail is mapped right out in my brain now, Johnny. +Five years ago I was within ten miles of the cavern--an' didn't know it!" + +"And we can get there ahead of them?" + +"We could--if it wasn't for Joanne. We're makin' twenty miles a day. We +could make thirty." + +"If we could beat them to it!" exclaimed Aldous, clenching his hands. "If +we only could, Donald--the rest would be easy!" + +MacDonald laid a heavy hand on his knee. + +"You remember what you told me, Johnny, that you'd play the game fair, and +give 'em a first chance? You ain't figgerin' on that now, be you?" + +"No, I'm with you now, Donald. It's----" + +"Shoot on sight!" + +"Yes." + +Aldous rose from his seat as he spoke. + +"You turn in, Mac," he said. "You're about bushed after the work you've +done to-day. I'll keep first watch. I'll conceal myself fifty or sixty +yards from camp, and if we have visitors before midnight the fun will all +be mine." + +He knew that MacDonald was asleep within fifteen minutes after he had +stationed himself at his post. In spite of the fact that he had had almost +no sleep the preceding night, he was more than usually wakeful. He was +filled with a curious feeling that events were impending. Yet the hours +passed, the moon flooded the valley again, the horses grazed without alarm, +and nothing happened. He had planned not to awaken old Donald at midnight, +but MacDonald roused himself, and came to take his place a little before +twelve. From that hour until four Aldous slept like the dead. He was +tremendously refreshed when he arose, to find that the candle was alight in +Joanne's tepee, and that MacDonald had built a fire. He waited for Joanne, +and went with her to the tiny creek near the camp, where both bathed their +faces in the snow-cold water from the mountain tops. Joanne had slept +soundly for eight hours, and she was as fresh and as happy as a bird. Her +lameness was almost gone, and she was eager for the day's journey. + +As they filed again up the valley that morning, with the early sun +transfiguring the great snow-topped ranges about them into a paradise of +colour and warmth, Aldous found himself mentally wondering if it were +really possible that a serious danger menaced them. He did not tell +MacDonald what was in his mind. He did not confess that he was about ready +to believe that the man on the snow-ridge had been a hunter or a prospector +returning to his camp in the other valley, and that the attack in Tête +Jaune was the one and only effort Quade would make to secure possession of +Joanne. While a few hours before he had almost expected an immediate +attack, he was now becoming more and more convinced that Quade, to a large +extent, had dropped out of the situation. He might be with Mortimer +FitzHugh, and probably was--a dangerous and formidable enemy to be +accounted for when the final settlement came. + +But as an immediate menace to Joanne, Aldous was beginning to fear him less +as the hours passed. Joanne, and the day itself, were sufficient to disarm +him of his former apprehension. In places they could see for miles ahead +and behind them. And Joanne, each time that he looked at her, was a greater +joy to him. Constantly she was pointing out the wonders of the mountains to +him and MacDonald. Each new rise or fall in the valley held fresh and +delightful surprises for her; in the craggy peaks she pointed out +castlements, and towers, and battlemented strongholds of ancient princes +and kings. Her mind was a wild and beautiful riot of imagination, of +wonder, and of happiness, and in spite of the grimness of the mission they +were on even MacDonald found himself rejoicing in her spirit, and he +laughed and talked with them as they rode into the North. + +They were entering now into a hunter's paradise. For the first time Joanne +saw white, moving dots far up on a mountain-side, which MacDonald told her +were goats. In the afternoon they saw mountain sheep feeding on a slide +half a mile away, and for ten breathless minutes Joanne watched them +through the telescope. Twice caribou sped over the opens ahead of them. But +it was not until the sun was settling toward the west again that Joanne saw +what she had been vainly searching the sides of the mountains to find. +MacDonald had stopped suddenly in the trail, motioning them to advance. +When they rode up to him he pointed to a green slope two hundred yards +ahead. + +"There's yo'r grizzly, Joanne," he said. + +A huge, tawny beast was ambling slowly along the crest of the slope, and at +sight of him Joanne gave a little cry of excitement. + +"He's hunting for gophers," explained MacDonald. + +"That's why he don't seem in a hurry. He don't see us because a b'ar's eyes +are near-sighted, but he could smell us half a mile away if the wind was +right." + +He was unslinging his long rifle as he spoke. Joanne was near enough to +catch his arm. + +"Don't shoot--please don't shoot!" she begged. "I've seen lions, and I've +seen tigers--and they're treacherous and I don't like them. But there's +something about bears that I love, like dogs. And the lion isn't a king +among beasts compared with him. Please don't shoot!" + +"I ain't a-goin' to," chuckled old Donald. "I'm just getting ready to give +'im the proper sort of a handshake if he should happen to come this way, +Joanne. You know a grizzly ain't pertic'lar afraid of anything on earth as +I know of, an' they're worse 'n a dynamite explosion when they come +head-on. There--he's goin' over the slope!" + +"Got our wind," said Aldous. + +They went on, a colour in Joanne's face like the vivid sunset. They camped +two hours before dusk, and MacDonald figured they had made better than +twenty miles that day. The same precautions were observed in guarding the +camp as the night before, and the long hours of vigil were equally +uneventful. The next day added still more to Aldous' peace of mind +regarding possible attack from Quade, and on the night of this day, their +fourth in the mountains, he spoke his mind to MacDonald. + +For a few moments afterward the old hunter smoked quietly at his pipe. Then +he said: + +"I don't know but you're right, Johnny. If they were behind us they'd most +likely have tried something before this. But it ain't in the law of the +mount'ins to be careless. We've got to watch." + +"I agree with you there, Mac," replied Aldous. "We cannot afford to lose +our caution for a minute. But I'm feeling a deuced sight better over the +situation just the same. If we can only get there ahead of them!" + +"If Quade is in the bunch we've got a chance of beating them," said +MacDonald thoughtfully. "He's heavy, Johnny--that sort of heaviness that +don't stand up well in the mount'ins; whisky-flesh, I call it. Culver Rann +don't weigh much more'n half as much, but he's like iron. Quade may be a +drag. An' Joanne, Lord bless her!--she's facing the music like an' 'ero, +Johnny!" + +"And the journey is almost half over." + +"This is the fourth day. I figger we can make it in ten at most, mebby +nine," said old Donald. "You see we're in that part of the Rockies where +there's real mount'ins, an' the ranges ain't broke up much. We've got +fairly good travel to the end." + +On this night Aldous slept from eight until twelve. The next, their fifth, +his watch was from midnight until morning. As the sixth and the seventh +days and nights passed uneventfully the belief that there were no enemies +behind them became a certainty. Yet neither Aldous nor MacDonald relaxed +their vigilance. + +The eighth day dawned, and now a new excitement took possession of Donald +MacDonald. Joanne and Aldous saw his efforts to suppress it, but it did not +escape their eyes. They were nearing the tragic scenes of long ago, and old +Donald was about to reap the reward of a search that had gone faithfully +and untiringly through the winters and summers of forty years. He spoke +seldom that day. There were strange lights in his eyes. And once his voice +was husky and strained when he said to Aldous: + +"I guess we'll make it to-morrow, Johnny--jus' about as the sun's going +down." + +They camped early, and Aldous rolled himself in his blanket when Joanne +extinguished the candle in her tent. He found that he could not sleep, and +he relieved MacDonald at eleven o'clock. + +"Get all the rest you can, Mac," he urged. "There may be doings +to-morrow--at about sundown." + +There was but little moonlight now, but the stars were clear. He lighted +his pipe, and with his rifle in the crook of his arm he walked slowly up +and down over a hundred-yard stretch of the narrow plain in which they had +camped. That night they had built their fire beside a fallen log, which was +now a glowing mass without flame. Finally he sat down with his back to a +rock fifty paces from Joanne's tepee. It was a splendid night. The air was +cool and sweet. He leaned back until his head rested against the rock, and +there fell upon him the fatal temptation to close his eyes and snatch a few +minutes of the slumber which had not come to him during the early hours of +the night. He was in a doze, oblivious to movement and the softer sounds of +the night, when a cry pierced the struggling consciousness of his brain +like the sting of a dart. In an instant he was on his feet. + +In the red glow of the log stood Joanne in her long white night robe. She +seemed to be swaying when he first saw her. Her hands were clutched at her +bosom, and she was staring--staring out into the night beyond the burning +log, and in her face was a look of terror. He sprang toward her, and out of +the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald. With a cry she turned to +Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms. +Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald +MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands. + +"What is it?" cried Aldous. "What has frightened you, Joanne?" + +She was shuddering against his breast. + +"It--it must have been a dream," she said. "It--it frightened me. But it +was so terrible, and I'm--I'm sorry, John. I didn't know what I was doing." + +"What was it, dear?" insisted Aldous. + +MacDonald had drawn very close. + +Joanne raised her head. + +"Please let me go back to bed, John. It was only a dream, and I'll tell it +to you in the morning, when there's sunshine--and day." + +Something in MacDonald's tense, listening attitude caught Aldous' eyes. + +"What was the dream?" he urged. + +She looked from him to old Donald, and shivered. + +"The flap of my tepee was open," she said slowly. "I thought I was awake. I +thought I could see the glow of the fire. But it was a dream--a _dream_, +only it was horrible! For as I looked I saw a face out there in the light, +a white, searching face--and it was his face!" + +"Whose face?" + +"Mortimer FitzHugh's," she shuddered. + +Tenderly Aldous led her back to the tent. + +"Yes, it was surely an unpleasant dream, dear," he comforted her. "Try and +sleep again. You must get all the rest you can." + +He closed the flap after her, and turned back toward MacDonald. The old +hunter had disappeared. It was ten minutes before he came in from out of +the darkness. He went straight to Aldous. + +"Johnny, you was asleep!" + +"I'm afraid I was, Mac--just for a minute." + +MacDonald's fingers gripped his arm. + +"Jus' for a minute, Johnny--an' in that minute you lost the chance of your +life!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean"--and old Donald's voice was filled with a low, choking tremble +that Aldous had never heard in it before--"I mean that it weren't no dream, +Johnny! Mortimer FitzHugh was in this camp to-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Donald MacDonald's startling assertion that Mortimer FitzHugh had been in +the camp, and that Joanne's dream was not a dream, but reality, brought a +gasp of astonishment and disbelief from Aldous. Before he had recovered +sufficiently from his amazement to speak, MacDonald was answering the +question in his mind. + +"I woke quicker'n you, Johnny," he said. "She was just coming out of the +tepee, an' I heard something running off through the brush. I thought mebby +it was a wolverine, or a bear, an' I didn't move until she cried out your +name an' you jumped up. If she had seen a bear in the fire-glow she +wouldn't have thought it was Mortimer FitzHugh, would she? It's possible, +but it ain't likely, though I do say it's mighty queer why he should be in +this camp alone. It's up to us to watch pretty close until daylight." + +"He wouldn't be here alone," asserted Aldous. "Let's get out of the light, +Mac. If you're right, the whole gang isn't far away!" + +"They ain't in rifle-shot," said MacDonald. "I heard him running a hundred +yards out there. That's the queer thing about it! Why didn't they jump on +us when they had the chance?" + +"We'll hope that it was a dream," replied Aldous. "If Joanne was dreaming +of FitzHugh, and while still half asleep saw something in camp, she might +easily imagine the rest. But we'll keep watch. Shall I move out there?" + +MacDonald nodded, and the two men separated. For two hours they patrolled +the darkness, waiting and listening. With dawn Aldous returned to camp to +arouse Joanne and begin breakfast. He was anxious to see what effect the +incident of the night had on her. Her appearance reassured him. When he +referred to the dream, and the manner in which she had come out into the +night, a lovely confusion sent the blushes into her face. He kissed her +until they grew deeper, and she hid her face on his neck. + +And then she whispered something, with her face still against his shoulder, +that drove the hot blood into his own cheeks. + +"You are my husband, John, and I don't suppose I should be ashamed to let +you see me in my bare feet. But, John--you have made me feel that way, and +I am--your wife!" + +He held her head close against him so that she could not see his face. + +"I wanted to show you--that I loved you--'that much," he said, scarcely +knowing what words he was speaking. "Joanne, my darling----" + +A soft hand closed his lips. + +"I know, John," she interrupted him softly. "And I love you so for it, and +I'm so proud of you--oh, so proud, John!" + +He was glad that MacDonald came crashing through the bush then. Joanne +slipped from his arms and ran into the tepee. + +In MacDonald's face was a grim and sullen look. + +"You missed your chance, all right, Johnny," he growled. "I found where a +horse was tied out there. The tracks lead to a big slide of rock that opens +a break in the west range. Whoever it was has beat it back into the other +valley. I can't understand, s'elp me God, I can't, Johnny! Why should +FitzHugh come over into this valley alone? And he _rode_ over! I'd say the +devil couldn't do that!" + +He said nothing more, but went out to lead in the hobbled horses, leaving +Aldous in half-stunned wonderment to finish the preparation of breakfast. +Joanne reappeared a little later, and helped him. It was six o'clock before +breakfast was over and they were ready to begin their day's journey. As +they were throwing the hitch over the last pack, MacDonald said in a low +voice to Aldous: + +"Everything may happen to-day, Johnny. I figger we'll reach the end by +sundown. An' what don't happen there may happen along the trail. Keep a +rifle-shot behind with Joanne. If there's unexpected shooting, we want what +you might call a reserve force in the rear. I figger I can see danger, if +there is any, an' I can do it best alone." + +Aldous knew that in these last hours Donald MacDonald's judgment must be +final, and he made no objection to an arrangement which seemed to place the +old hunter under a more hazardous risk than his own. And he realized fully +that these were the last hours. For the first time he had seen MacDonald +fill his pockets with the finger-long cartridges for his rifle, and he had +noted how carefully he had looked at the breech of that rifle. Without +questioning, he had followed the mountaineer's example. There were fifty +spare cartridges in his own pockets. His .303 was freshly cleaned and +oiled. He had tested the mechanism of his automatic. MacDonald had watched +him, and both understood what such preparations meant as they set out on +this last day's journey into the North. They had not kept from Joanne the +fact that they would reach the end before night, and as they rode the +prescribed distance behind the old hunter Aldous wondered how much she +guessed, and what she knew. They had given her to understand that they were +beating out the rival party, but he believed that in spite of all their +efforts there was in Joanne's mind a comprehension which she did not reveal +in voice or look. To-day she was no different than yesterday, or the day +before, except that her cheeks were not so deeply flushed, and there was an +uneasy questing in her eyes. He believed that she sensed the nearness of +tragedy, that she was conscious of what they were now trying to hide from +her, and that she did not speak because she knew that he and MacDonald did +not want her to know. His heart throbbed with pride. Her courage inspired +him. And he noticed that she rode closer to him--always at his side through +that day. + +Early in the afternoon MacDonald stopped on the crest of a swell in the +valley and waited for them. When they came up he was facing the north. He +did not look at them. For a few moments he did not speak. His hat was +pulled low, and his beard was twitching. + +They looked ahead. At their feet the valley broadened until it was a mile +in width. Half a mile away a band of caribou were running for the cover of +a parklike clump of timber. MacDonald did not seem to notice them. He was +still looking steadily, and he was gazing at a mountain. It was a +tremendous mountain, a terrible-looking, ugly mountain, perhaps three miles +away. Aldous had never seen another like it. Its two huge shoulders were of +almost ebon blackness, and glistened in the sunlight as if smeared with +oil. Between those two shoulders rose a cathedral-like spire of rock and +snow that seemed to tip the white fleece of the clouds. + +MacDonald did not turn when he spoke. His voice was deep and vibrant with +an intense emotion. Yet he was not excited. + +"I've been hunting for that mount'in for forty years, Johnny!" + +"Mac!" + +Aldous leaned over and laid a hand on the old mountaineer's shoulder. Still +MacDonald did not look at him. + +"Forty years," he repeated, as if speaking to himself. "I see how I missed +it now, just as DeBar said. I hunted from the west, an' on that side the +mount'in ain't black. We must have crossed this valley an' come in from the +east forty years ago, Johnny----" + +He turned now, and what Joanne and Aldous saw in his face was not grief; it +was not the sorrow of one drawing near to his beloved dead, but a joy that +had transfigured him. The fire and strength of the youth in which he had +first looked upon this valley with Jane at his side burned again in the +sunken eyes of Donald MacDonald. After forty years he had come into his +own. Somewhere very near was the cavern with the soft white floor of sand, +and for a moment Aldous fancied that he could hear the beating of +MacDonald's heart, while from Joanne's tender bosom there rose a deep, +sobbing breath of understanding. + +And MacDonald, facing the mountain again, pointed with a long, gaunt arm, +and said: + +"We're almost there, Johnny. God ha' mercy on them if they've beat us out!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +They rode on into the Valley of Gold. Again MacDonald took the lead, and he +rode straight into the face of the black mountain. Aldous no longer made an +effort to keep Joanne in ignorance of what might be ahead of them. He put a +sixth cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, and carried the weapon +across the pommel of his saddle. He explained to her now why they were +riding behind--that if their enemies were laying in wait for them, +MacDonald, alone, could make a swift retreat. Joanne asked no questions. +Her lips were set tight. She was pale. + +At the end of three quarters of an hour it seemed to them that MacDonald +was riding directly into the face of a wall of rock. Then he swung sharply +to the left, and disappeared. When they came to the point where he had +turned they found that he had entered a concealed break in the mountain--a +chasm with walls that rose almost perpendicular for a thousand feet above +their heads. A dark and solemn gloom pervaded this chasm, and Aldous drew +nearer to MacDonald, his rifle held in readiness, and his bridle-rein +fastened to his saddle-horn. The chasm was short. Sunlight burst upon them +suddenly, and a few minutes later MacDonald waited for them again. + +Even Aldous could not restrain an exclamation of surprise when he rode up +with Joanne. Under them was another valley, a wide-sweeping valley between +two rugged ranges that ran to the southwest. Up out of it there came to +their ears a steady, rumbling roar; the air was filled with that roar; the +earth seemed to tremble with it under their feet--and yet it was not loud. +It came sullenly, as if from a great distance. + +And then they saw that MacDonald was not looking out over the sweep of the +valley, but down. Half a mile under them there was a dip--a valley within a +valley--and through it ran the silver sheen of a stream. MacDonald spoke no +word now. He dismounted and levelled his long telescope at the little +valley. Aldous helped Joanne from her horse, and they waited. A great +breath came at last from the old hunter. Slowly he turned. He did not give +the telescope to Aldous, but to Joanne. She looked. For a full minute she +seemed scarcely to breathe. Her hands trembled when she turned to give the +glass to Aldous. + +"I see--log cabins!" she whispered. + +MacDonald placed a detaining hand on her arm. + +"Look ag'in--Joanne," he said in a low voice that had in it a curious +quiver. + +Again she raised the telescope to her eyes. + +"You see the little cabin--nearest the river?" whispered Donald. + +"Yes, I see it." + +"That was our cabin--Jane's an' mine--forty years ago," he said, and now +his voice was husky. + +Joanne's breath broke sobbingly as she gave Aldous the glass. Something +seemed to choke him as he looked down upon the scene of the grim tragedy +in which Donald MacDonald and Jane had played their fatal part. He saw the +cabins as they had stood for nearly half a century. There were four. Three +of them were small, and the fourth was large. They might have been built +yesterday, for all that he could see of ruin or decay. The doors and +windows of the larger cabin and two of the smaller ones were closed. The +roofs were unbroken. The walls appeared solid. Twice he looked at the +fourth cabin, with its wide-open door and window, and twice he looked at +the cabin nearest the stream, where had lived Donald MacDonald and Jane. + +Donald had moved, and Joanne was watching him tensely, when he took the +glass from his eyes. Mutely the old mountaineer held out a hand, and Aldous +gave him the telescope. Crouching behind a rock he slowly swept the valley. +For half an hour he looked through the glass, and in that time scarce a +word was spoken. During the last five minutes of that half-hour both Joanne +and Aldous knew that MacDonald was looking at the little cabin nearest the +stream, and with hands clasped tightly they waited in silence. + +At last old Donald rose, and his face and voice were filled with a +wonderful calm. + +"There ain't been no change," he said softly. "I can see the log in front +o' the door that I used to cut kindling on. It was too tough for them to +split an' burn after we left. An' I can see the tub I made out o' spruce +for Jane. It's leaning next the door, where I put it the day before we went +away. Forty years ain't very long, Johnny! It ain't very long!" + +Joanne had turned from them, and Aldous knew that she was crying. + +"An' we've beat 'em to it, Johnny--we've beat 'em to it!" exulted +MacDonald. "There ain't a sign of life in the valley, and we sure could +make it out from here if there was!" + +He climbed into his saddle, and started down the slope of the mountain. +Aldous went to Joanne. She was sobbing. Her eyes were blinded by tears. + +"It's terrible, terrible," she whispered brokenly. "And it--it's beautiful, +John. I feel as though I'd like to give my life--to bring Jane back!" + +"You must not betray tears or grief to Donald," said Aldous, drawing her +close in his arms for a moment. "Joanne--sweetheart--it is a wonderful +thing that is happening with him! I dreaded this day--I have dreaded it for +a long time. I thought that it would be terrible to witness the grief of a +man with a heart like Donald's. But he is not filled with grief, Joanne. It +is joy, a great happiness that perhaps neither you nor I can +understand--that has come to him now. Don't you understand? He has found +her. He has found their old home. To-day is the culmination of forty years +of hope, and faith, and prayer. And it does not bring him sorrow, but +gladness. We must rejoice with him. We must be happy with him. I love you, +Joanne. I love you above all else on earth or in heaven. Without you I +would not want to live. And yet, Joanne, I believe that I am no happier +to-day than is Donald MacDonald!" + +With a sudden cry Joanne flung her arms about his neck. + +"John, is it _that?_" she cried, and joy shone through her tears. "Yes, +yes, I understand now! His heart is not breaking. It is life returning into +a heart that was empty. I understand--oh, I understand now! And we must be +happy with him. We must be happy when we find the cavern--and Jane!" + +"And when we go down there to the little cabin that was their home." + +"Yes--yes!" + +They followed behind MacDonald. After a little a spur of the mountain-side +shut out the little valley from them, and when they rounded this they found +themselves very near to the cabins. They rode down a beautiful slope into +the basin, and when he reached the log buildings old Donald stopped and +dismounted. Again Aldous helped Joanne from her horse. Ahead of them +MacDonald went to the cabin nearest the stream. At the door he paused and +waited for them. + +"Forty years!" he said, facing them. "An' there ain't been so very much +change as I can see!" + +Years had dropped from his shoulders in these last few minutes, and even +Aldous could not keep quite out of his face his amazement and wonder. Very +gently Donald put his hand to the latch, as though fearing to awaken some +one within; and very gently he pressed down on it, and put a bit of his +strength against the door. It moved inward, and when it had opened +sufficiently he leaned forward so that his head and a half of his shoulders +were inside; and he looked--a long time he looked, without a movement of +his body or a breath that they could see. + +And then he turned to them again, and his eyes were shining as they had +never seen them shine before. + +"I'll open the window," he said. "It's dark--dark inside." + +He went to the window, which was closed with a sapling barricade that had +swung on hinges; and when he swung it back the rusted hinges gave way, and +the thing crashed down at his feet. And now through the open window the sun +poured in a warm radiance, and Donald entered the cabin, with Joanne and +Aldous close behind him. + +There was not much in the cabin, but what it held was earth, and heaven, +and all else to Donald MacDonald. A strange, glad cry surged from his chest +as he looked about him, and now Joanne saw and understood what John Aldous +had told her--for Donald MacDonald, after forty years, had come back to his +home! + +"Oh, my Gawd, Johnny, they didn't touch anything! They didn't touch +anything!" he breathed in ecstasy. "I thought after we ran away they'd come +in----" + +He broke off, and his hat dropped from his hand, and he stood and stared; +and what he was looking at, the sun fell upon in a great golden splash, and +Joanne's hand gripped John's, and held to it tightly. Against the wall, +hanging as they had hung for forty years, were a woman's garments: a hood, +a shawl, a dress, and an apron that was half in tatters; and on the floor +under these things were _a pair of shoes_. And as Donald MacDonald went to +them, his arms reaching out, his lips moving, forgetful of all things but +that he had come home, and Jane was here, Joanne drew Aldous softly to the +door, and they went out into the day. + +Joanne did not speak, and Aldous did not urge her. He saw her white throat +throbbing as if there were a little heart beating there, and her eyes were +big and dark and velvety, like the eyes of a fawn that had been frightened. +There was a thickness in his own throat, and he found that it was difficult +for him to see far out over the plain. They waited near the horses. Fifty +yards from them ran the stream; a clear, beautiful stream which flowed in +the direction from which the mysterious ramble of thunder seemed to come. +This, Aldous knew, was the stream of gold. In the sand he saw wreckage +which he knew were the ancient rockers; a shovel, thrust shaft-deep, still +remained where it had last been planted. + +Perhaps for ten minutes Donald MacDonald remained in the cabin. Then he +came out. Very carefully he closed the door. His shoulders were thrown +back. His head was held high. He looked like a monarch. + +And his voice was calm. + +"Everything is there, Johnny--everything but the gold," he said. "They took +that." + +Now he spoke to Joanne. + +"You better not go with us into the other cabins," he said. + +"Why?" she asked softly. + +"Because--there's death in them all." + +"I am going," she said. + +From the window of the largest cabin MacDonald pulled the sapling shutter, +and, like the other, it fell at his feet. Then they opened the door, and +entered; and here the sunlight revealed the cabin's ghastly tragedy. The +first thing that they saw, because it was most terrible, was a rough table, +half over which lay the shrunken thing that had once been a man. A part of +its clothes still remained, but the head had broken from its column, and +the white and fleshless skull lay facing them. Out of tattered and +dust-crumbling sleeves reached the naked bones of hands and arms. And on +the floor lay another of these things, in a crumpled and huddled heap, only +the back of the skull showing, like the polished pate of a bald man. These +things they saw first, and then two others: on the table were a heap of +age-blackened and dusty sacks, and out of the back of the crumbling thing +that guarded them stuck the long buckhorn hilt of a knife. + +"They must ha' died fighting," said MacDonald. "An' there, Johnny, is their +gold!" + +White as death Joanne stood in the door and watched them. MacDonald and +Aldous went to the sacks. They were of buckskin. The years had not aged +them. When Aldous took one in his hands he found that it was heavier than +lead. With his knife MacDonald cut a slit in one of them, and the sun that +came through the window flashed in a little golden stream that ran from the +bag. + +"We'll take them out and put 'em in a pannier," said MacDonald. "The others +won't be far behind us, Johnny." + +Between them they carried out the seven sacks of gold. It was a load for +their arms. They put it in one of the panniers, and then MacDonald nodded +toward the cabin next the one that had been his own. + +"I wouldn't go in there, Joanne," he said. + +"I'm going," she whispered again. + +"It was _their_ cabin--the man an' his wife," persisted old Donald. "An' +the men was beasts, Joanne! I don't know what happened in there--but I +guess." + +"I'm going," she said again. + +MacDonald pulled down the barricade from the window--a window that also +faced the south and west, and this time he had to thrust against the door +with his shoulder. They entered, and now a cry came from Joanne's lips--a +cry that had in it horror, disbelief, a woman's wrath. Against the wall was +a pile of something, and on that pile was the searching first light of day +that had fallen upon it for nearly half a century. The pile was a man +crumpled down; across it, her skeleton arms thrown about it protectingly, +was a woman. This time Aldous did not go forward. MacDonald was alone, and +Aldous took Joanne from the cabin, and held her while she swayed in his +arms. Donald came out a little later, and there was a curious look of +exultation and triumph in his face. + +"She killed herself," he said. "That was her husband. I know him. I gave +him the rock-nails he put in the soles of his boots--and the nails are +still there." + +He went alone into the remaining two cabins, while Aldous stood with +Joanne. He did not stay long. From the fourth cabin he brought an armful of +the little brown sacks. He returned, and brought a second armful. + +"There's three more in that last cabin," he explained. "Two men, an' a +woman. She must ha' been the wife of the man they killed. They were the +last to live, an' they starved to death. An' now, Johnny----" + +He paused, and he drew in a great breath. + +He was looking to the west, where the sun was beginning to sink behind the +mountains. + +"An' now, Johnny, if you're ready, an' if Joanne is ready, we'll go," he +said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +As they went up out of the basin into the broad meadows of the larger +valley, MacDonald rode between Aldous and Joanne, and the pack-horses, led +by Pinto, trailed behind. + +Again old Donald said, as he searched the valley: + +"We've beat 'em, Johnny. Quade an' Rann are coming up on the other side of +the range, and I figger they're just about a day behind--mebby only hours, +or an hour. You can't tell. There's more gold back there. We got about a +hunderd pounds in them fifteen sacks, an' there was twice that much. It's +hid somewhere. Calkins used to keep his'n under the floor. So did Watts. +We'll find it later. An' the river, an' the dry gulches on both sides of +the valley--they're full of it! It's all gold, Johnny--gold everywhere!" + +He pointed ahead to where the valley rose in a green slope between two +mountains half a mile away. + +"That's the break," he said. "It don't seem very far now, do it, Joanne?" +His silence seemed to have dropped from him like a mantle, and there was +joy in what he was telling. "But it was a distance that night--a tumble +distance," he continued, before she could answer. "That was forty-one years +ago, coming November. An' it was cold, an' the snow was deep. It was bitter +cold--so cold it caught my Jane's lungs, an' that was what made her go a +little later. The slope up there don't look steep now, but it was steep +then--with two feet of snow to drag ourselves through. I don't think the +cavern is more'n five or six miles away, Johnny, mebby less, an' it took us +twenty hours to reach it. It snowed so heavy that night, an' the wind +blowed so, that our trail was filled up or they might ha' followed." + +Many times Aldous had been on the point of asking old Donald a question. +For the first time he asked it now, even as his eyes swept slowly and +searchingly over the valley for signs of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. + +"I've often wondered why you ran away with Jane," he said. "I know what +threatened her--a thing worse than death. But why did you run? Why didn't +you stay and fight?" + +A low growl rumbled in MacDonald's beard. + +"Johnny, Johnny, if I only ha' could!" he groaned. "There was five of them +left when I ran into the cabin an' barricaded myself there with Jane. I +stuck my gun out of the window an' they was afraid to rush the cabin. They +was _afraid_, Johnny, all that afternoon--_an' I didn't have a cartridge +left to fire!_ That's why we went just as soon as we could crawl out in the +dark. I knew they'd come that night. I might ha' killed one or two hand to +hand, for I was big an' strong in them days, Johnny, but I knew I couldn't +beat 'em all. So we went." + +"After all, death isn't so very terrible," said Joanne softly, and she was +riding so close that for a moment she laid one of her warm hands on Donald +MacDonald's. + +"No, it's sometimes--wunnerful--an' beautiful," replied Donald, a little +brokenly, and with that he rode ahead, and Joanne and Aldous waited until +the pack-horses had passed them. + +"He's going to see that all is clear at the summit," explained Aldous. + +They seemed to be riding now right into the face of that mysterious rumble +and roar of the mountains. It was an hour before they all stood together at +the top of the break, and here MacDonald swung sharply to the right, and +came soon to the rock-strewn bed of a dried-up stream that in ages past had +been a wide and rushing torrent. Steadily, as they progressed down this, +the rumble and roar grew nearer. It seemed that it was almost under their +feet, when again MacDonald turned, and a quarter of an hour later they +found themselves at the edge of a small plain; and now all about them were +cold and towering mountains that shut out the sun, and a hundred yards to +their right was a great dark cleft in the floor of the plain, and up out of +this came the rumble and roar that was like the sullen anger of monster +beasts imprisoned deep down in the bowels of the earth. + +MacDonald got off his horse, and Aldous and Joanne rode up to him. In the +old man's face was a look of joy and triumph. + +"It weren't so far as I thought it was, Johnny!" he cried. "Oh, it must ha' +been a turrible night--a turrible night when Jane an' I come this way! It +took us twenty hours, Johnny!" + +"We are near the cavern?" breathed Joanne. + +"It ain't more'n half a mile farther on, I guess. But we'll camp here. +We're pretty well hid. They can't find us. An' from that summit up there +we can keep watch in both valleys." + +Knowing the thoughts that were in MacDonald's mind, and how full his heart +was with a great desire, Aldous went to him when they had dismounted. + +"You go on alone if there is time to-night, Mac," he said, knowing that the +other would understand him. "I will make camp." + +"There ain't no one in the valley," mused the old man, a little doubtfully +at first. "It would be safe--quite safe, Johnny." + +"Yes, it will be safe." + +"And I will stand guard while John is working," said Joanne, who had come +to them. "No one can approach us without being seen." + +For another moment MacDonald hesitated. Then he said: + +"Do you see that break over there across the plain? It's the open to a +gorge. Johnny, it do seem unreasonable--it do seem as though I must ha' +been dreamin'--when I think that it took us twenty hours! But the snow was +to my waist in this plain, an' it was slow work--turrible slow work! I +think the cavern--ain't on'y a little way up that gorge." + +"You can make it before the sun is quite gone." + +"An' I could hear you shout, or your gun. I could ride back in five +minutes--an' I wouldn't be gone an hour." + +"There is no danger," urged Aldous. + +A deep breath came from old Donald's breast. + +"I guess--I'll go, Johnny, if you an' Joanne don't mind." + +He looked about him, and then he pointed toward the face of a great rock. + +"Put the tepee up near that," he said. "Pile the saddles, an' the blankets, +an' the panniers around it, so it'll look like a real camp, Johnny. But it +won't be a real camp. It'll be a dummy. See them thick spruce an' cedar +over there? Build Joanne a shelter of boughs in there, an' take in some +grub, an' blankets, an' the gold. See the point, Johnny? If anything should +happen----" + +"They'd tackle the bogus camp!" cried Aldous with elation. "It's a splendid +idea!" + +He set at once about unpacking the horses, and Joanne followed close at his +side to help him. MacDonald mounted his horse and rode at a trot in the +direction of the break in the mountain. + +The sun had disappeared, but its reflection was still on the peaks; and +after he had stripped and hobbled the horses Aldous took advantage of the +last of day to scrutinize the plain and the mountain slopes through the +telescope. After that he found enough dry poles with which to set up the +tepee, and about this he scattered the saddles and panniers, as MacDonald +had suggested. Then he cleared a space in the thick spruce, and brought to +it what was required for their hidden camp. + +It was almost dark when he completed the spruce and cedar lean-to for +Joanne. He knew that to-night they must build no fire, not even for tea; +and when they had laid out the materials for their cold supper, which +consisted of beans, canned beef and tongue, peach marmalade, bread bannock, +and pickles and cheese, he went with Joanne for water to a small creek they +had crossed a hundred yards away. In both his hands, ready for instant +action, he carried his rifle. Joanne carried the pail. Her eyes were big +and bright and searching in that thick-growing dusk of night. She walked +very close to Aldous, and she said: + +"John, I know how careful you and Donald have been in this journey into the +North. I know what you have feared. Culver Rann and Quade are after the +gold, and they are near. But why does Donald talk as though we are _surely_ +going to be attacked by them, or are _surely_ going to attack them? I don't +understand it, John. If you don't care for the gold so much, as you told me +once, and if we find Jane to-morrow, or to-night, why do we remain to have +trouble with Quade and Culver Rann? Tell me, John." + +He could not see her face fully in the gloom, and he was glad that she +could not see his. + +"If we can get away without fighting, we will, Joanne," he lied. And he +knew that she would have known that he was lying if it had not been for the +darkness. + +"You won't fight--over the gold?" she asked, pressing his arm. "Will you +promise me that, John?" + +"Yes, I promise that. I swear it!" he cried, and so forcefully that she +gave a glad little laugh. + +"Then if they don't find us to-morrow, we'll go back home?" She trembled, +and he knew that her heart was filled with a sudden lightness. "And I don't +believe they will find us. They won't come beyond that terrible place--and +the gold! Why should they, John? Why should they follow us--if we leave +them everything? Oh-h-h-h!" She shuddered, and whispered: "I wish we had +not brought the gold, John. I wish we had left it behind!" + +"What we have is worth thirty or forty thousand dollars," he said +reassuringly, as he filled his pail with water and they began to return. +"We can do a great deal of good with that. Endowments, for instance," he +laughed. + +As he spoke, they both stopped, and listened. Plainly they heard the +approaching thud of hoofs. MacDonald had been gone nearer two hours than +one, and believing that it was him, Aldous gave the owl signal. The signal +floated back to them softly. Five minutes later MacDonald rode up and +dismounted. Until he had taken the saddle off, and had hobbled his horse, +he did not speak. Neither Joanne nor Aldous asked the question that was in +their hearts. But even in the darkness they felt something. It was as if +not only the torrent rushing through the chasm, but MacDonald's heart as +well, was charging the air with a strange and subdued excitement. And when +MacDonald spoke, that which they had felt was in his voice. + +"You ain't seen or heard anything, Johnny?" + +"Nothing. And you--Donald?" + +In the darkness, Joanne went to the old man, and her hand found one of his, +and clasped it tightly; and she found that Donald MacDonald's big hand was +trembling in a strange and curious way, and she could feel him quivering. + +"You found Jane?" she whispered. + +"Yes, I found her, little Joanne." + +She did not let go of his hand until they entered the open space which +Aldous had made in the spruce. Then she remembered what Aldous had said to +her earlier in the day, and cheerfully she lighted the two candles they +had set out, and forced Aldous down first upon the ground, and then +MacDonald, and began to help them to beans and meat and bannock, while all +the time her heart was crying out to know about the cavern--and Jane. The +candleglow told her a great deal, for in it Donald MacDonald's face was +very calm, and filled with a great peace, despite the trembling she had +felt. Her woman's sympathy told her that his heart was too full on this +night for speech, and when he ate but little she did not urge him to eat +more; and when he rose and went silently and alone out into the darkness +she held Aldous back; and when, still a little later, she went into her +nest for the night, she whispered softly to him: + +"I know that he found Jane as he wanted to find her, and he is happy. I +think he has gone out there alone--to cry." And for a time after that, as +he sat in the gloom, John Aldous knew that Joanne was sobbing like a little +child in the spruce and cedar shelter he had built for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +If MacDonald slept at all that night Aldous did not know it. The old +mountaineer watched until a little after twelve in the deep shadow of a +rock between the two camps. + +"I can't sleep," he protested, when Aldous urged him to take his rest. "I +might take a little stroll up the plain, Johnny--but I can't sleep." + +The plain lay in a brilliant starlight at this hour; they could see the +gleam of the snow-peaks--the light was almost like the glow of the moon. + +"There'll be plenty of sleep after to-morrow," added MacDonald, and there +was a finality in his voice and words which set the other's blood stirring. + +"You think they will show up to-morrow?" + +"Yes. This is the same valley the cabins are in, Johnny. That big mountain +runs out an' splits it, an' it curves like a horseshoe. From that mount'in +we can see them, no matter which way they come. They'll go straight to the +cabins. There's a deep little run under the slope. You didn't see it when +we came out, but it'll take us within a hunderd yards of 'em. An' at a +hunderd yards----" + +He shrugged his shoulders suggestively in the starlight, and there was a +smile on his face. + +"It seems almost like murder," shuddered Aldous. + +"But it ain't,'" replied MacDonald quickly. "It's self-defence! If we +don't do it, Johnny--if we don't draw on them first, what happened there +forty years ago is goin' to happen again--with Joanne!" + +"A hundred yards," breathed Aldous, his jaws setting hard. "And there are +five!" + +"They'll go into the cabins," said MacDonald. "At some time there will be +two or three outside, an' we'll take them first. At the sound of the shots +the others will run out, and it will be easy. Yo' can't very well miss a +man at a hunderd yards, Johnny?" + +"No, I won't miss." + +MacDonald rose. + +"I'm goin' to take a little stroll, Johnny." + +For two hours after that Aldous was alone. He knew why old Donald could not +sleep, and where he had gone, and he pictured him sitting before the little +old cabin in the starlit valley communing with the spirit of Jane. And +during those two hours he steeled himself for the last time to the thing +that was going to happen when the day came. + +It was nearly three o'clock when MacDonald returned. It was four o'clock +before he roused Joanne; and it was five o'clock when they had eaten their +breakfast, and MacDonald prepared to leave for the mountain with his +telescope. Aldous had observed Joanne talking to him for several minutes +alone, and he had also observed that her eyes were very bright, and that +there was an unusual eagerness in her manner of listening to what the old +man was saying. The significance of this did not occur to him when she +urged him to accompany MacDonald. + +"Two pairs of eyes are better than one, John," she said, "and I cannot +possibly be in danger here. I can see you all the time, and you can see +me--if I don't run away, or hide." And she laughed a little breathlessly. +"There is no danger, is there, Donald?" + +The old hunter shook his head. + +"There's no danger, but--you might be lonesome," he said. + +Joanne put her pretty mouth close to Aldous' ear. + +"I want to be alone for a little while, dear," she whispered, and there was +that mystery in her voice which kept him from questioning her, and made him +go with MacDonald. + +In three quarters of an hour they had reached the spur of the mountain from +which MacDonald had said they could see up the valley, and also the break +through which they had come the preceding afternoon. The morning mists +still hung low, but as these melted away under the sun mile after mile of a +marvellous panorama spread out swiftly under them, and as the distance of +their vision grew, the deeper became the disappointment in MacDonald's +face. For half an hour after the mists had gone he neither spoke nor +lowered the telescope from his eyes. A mile away Aldous saw three caribou +crossing the valley. A little later, on a green slope, he discerned a +moving hulk that he knew was a bear. He did not speak until old Donald +lowered the glass. + +"I can see for eight miles up the valley, an' there ain't a soul in sight," +said MacDonald in answer to his question. "I figgered they'd be along about +now, Johnny." + +A dozen times Aldous had looked back at the camp. Twice he had seen Joanne. +He looked now through the telescope. She was nowhere in sight. A bit +nervously he returned the telescope to MacDonald. + +"And I can't see Joanne," he said. + +MacDonald looked. For five minutes he levelled the glass steadily at the +camp. Then he shifted it slowly westward, and a low exclamation broke from +his lips as he lowered the glass, and looked at Aldous. + +"Johnny, she's just goin' into the gorge! She was just disappearin' when I +caught her!" + +"Going into--the gorge!" gasped Aldous, jumping to his feet. "Mac----" + +MacDonald rose and stood at his side. There was something reassuring in the +rumbling laugh that came from deep in his chest. + +"She's beat us!" he chuckled. "Bless her, she's beat us! I didn't guess why +she was askin' me all them questions. An' I told her, Johnny--told her just +where the cavern was up there in the gorge, an' how you wouldn't hardly +miss it if you tried. An' she asked me how long it would take to _walk_ +there, an' I told her half an hour. An' she's going to the cavern, Johnny!" + +He was telescoping his long glass as he spoke, and while Aldous was still +staring toward the gorge in wonderment and a little fear, he added: + +"We'd better follow. Quade an' Rann can't get here inside o' two or three +hours, an' we'll be back before then." Again he rumbled with that curious +chuckling laugh. "She beat us, Johnny, she beat us fair! An' she's got +spirrit, a wunnerful spirrit, to go up there alone!" + +Aldous wanted to run, but he held himself down to MacDonald's stride. His +heart trembled apprehensively as they hurriedly descended the mountain and +cut across the plain. He could not quite bring himself to MacDonald's point +of assurance regarding Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. The old mountaineer was +positive that the other party was behind them. Aldous asked himself if it +were not possible that Quade and FitzHugh were _ahead_ of them, and already +waiting and watching for their opportunity. He had suggested that they +might have swung farther to the west, with the plan of descending upon the +valley from the north, and MacDonald had pointed out how unlikely this was. +In spite of this, Aldous was not in a comfortable frame of mind as they +hurried after Joanne. She had half an hour's start of them when they +reached the mouth of the gorge, and not until they had travelled another +half-hour up the rough bed of the break between the two mountains, and +MacDonald pointed ahead, and said: "There's the cavern!" did he breathe +easier. + +They could see the mouth of the cavern when they were yet a couple of +hundred yards from it. It was a wide, low cleft in the north face of the +chasm wall, and in front of it, spreading out like the flow of a stream, +was a great spatter of white sand, like a huge rug that had been spread out +in a space cleared of its chaotic litter of rock and broken slate. At first +glance Aldous guessed that the cavern had once been the exit of a +subterranean stream. The sand deadened the sound of their footsteps as they +approached. At the mouth of the cave they paused. It was perhaps forty or +fifty feet deep, and as high as a nine-foot room. Inside it was quite +light. Halfway to the back of it, upon her knees, and with her face turned +from them, was Joanne. + +They were very close to her before she heard them. With a startled cry she +sprang to her feet, and Aldous and MacDonald saw what she had been doing. +Over a long mound in the white sand still rose the sapling stake which +Donald had planted there forty years before; and about this, and scattered +over the grave, were dozens of wild asters and purple hyacinths which +Joanne had brought from the plain. Aldous did not speak, but he took her +hand, and looked down with her on the grave. And then something caught his +eyes among the flowers, and Joanne drew him a step nearer, her eyes shining +like velvet stars, while his heart beat faster when he saw what the object +was. It was a book, open in the middle, and it lay face downward on the +grave. It was old, and looked as though it might have fallen into dust at +the touch of his finger. Joanne's voice was low and filled with a +whispering awe. + +"It was her Bible, John!" + +He turned a little, and noticed that Donald had gone to the mouth of the +cavern, and was looking toward the mountain. + +"It was her Bible," he heard Joanne repeating; and then MacDonald turned +toward them, and he saw in his face a look that seemed strange and out of +place in this home of his dead. He went to him, and Joanne followed. + +MacDonald had turned again--was listening--and holding his breath. Then he +said, still with his face toward the mountain and the valley: + +"I may be mistaken, Johnny, but I think I heard--a rifle-shot!" + +For a full minute they listened. + +"It seemed off there," said MacDonald, pointing to the south. "I guess +we'd better get back to camp, Johnny." + +He started ahead of them, and Aldous followed as swiftly as he could with +Joanne. She was panting with excitement, but she asked no questions. +MacDonald began to spring more quickly from rock to rock; over the level +spaces he began to run. He reached the edge of the plain four or five +hundred yards in advance of them, and was scanning the valley through his +telescope when they came up. + +"They're not on this side," he said. "They're comin' up the other leg of +the valley, Johnny. We've got to get to the mount'in before we can see +them." + +He closed the glass with a snap and swung it over his shoulder. Then he +pointed toward the camp. + +"Take Joanne down there," he commanded. "Watch the break we came through, +an' wait for me. I'm goin' up on the mount'in an' take a look!" + +The last words came back over his shoulder as he started on a trot down the +slope. Only once before had Aldous seen MacDonald employ greater haste, and +that was on the night of the attack on Joanne. He was convinced there was +no doubt in Donald's mind about the rifle-shot, and that the shot could +mean but one thing--the nearness of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. Why they +should reveal their presence in that way he did not ask himself as he +hurried down into the plain with Joanne. By the time they reached the camp +old Donald had covered two thirds of the distance to the mountain. Aldous +looked at his watch and a curious thrill shot through him. Only a little +more than an hour had passed since they had left the mountain to follow +Joanne, and in that time it would have been impossible for their enemies to +have covered more than a third of the eight-mile stretch of valley which +they had found empty of human life under the searching scrutiny of the +telescope! He was right--and MacDonald was wrong! The sound of the shot, if +there had been a shot, must have come from some other direction! + +He wanted to shout his warning to MacDonald, but already too great a +distance separated them. Besides, if he was right, MacDonald would run into +no danger in that direction. Their menace was to the north--beyond the +chasm out of which came the rumble and roar of the stream. When Donald had +disappeared up the slope he looked more closely at the rugged walls of rock +that shut them in on that side. He could see no break in them. His eyes +followed the dark streak in the floor of the plain, which was the chasm. It +was two hundred yards below where they were standing; and a hundred yards +beyond the tepee he saw where it came out of a great rent in the mountain. +He looked at Joanne. She had been watching him, and was breathing quickly. + +"While Donald is taking his look from the mountain, I'm going to +investigate the chasm," he said. + +She followed him, a few steps behind. The roar grew in their ears as they +advanced. After a little solid rock replaced the earth under their feet, +and twenty paces from the precipice Aldous took Joanne by the hand. They +went to the edge and looked over. Fifty feet below them the stream was +caught in the narrow space between the two chasm walls, and above the rush +and roar of it Aldous heard the startled cry that came from Joanne. She +clutched his hand fiercely. Fascinated she gazed down. The water, speeding +like a millrace, was a lather of foam; and up through this foam there shot +the crests of great rocks, as though huge monsters of some kind were at +play, whipping the torrent into greater fury, and bellowing forth +thunderous voices. Downstream Aldous could see that the tumult grew less; +from the rent in the mountain came the deeper, more distant-rolling thunder +that they had heard on the other side of the range. And then, as he looked, +a sharper cry broke from Joanne, and she dragged him back from the ledge, +and pointed toward the tepee. + +Out from among the rocks had appeared a human figure. It was a woman. Her +hair was streaming wildly about her, and in the sun it was black as a +crow's wing. She rushed to the tepee, opened the flap, and looked in. Then +she turned, and a cry that was almost a scream rang from her lips. In +another moment she had seen Aldous and Joanne, and was running toward them. +They advanced to meet her. Suddenly Aldous stopped, and with a sharp +warning to Joanne he threw his rifle half to his shoulder, and faced the +rocks from which the speeding figure had come. In that same instant they +both recognized her. It was Marie, the woman who had ridden the bear at +Tête Jaune, and with whom Mortimer FitzHugh had bought Joe DeBar! + +She staggered up to them, panting, exhausted, her breath coming in gulping +sobs. For a moment she could not speak. Her dress was torn; her waist was +ripped so that it exposed her throat and shoulder; and the front of the +waist and her face were stained with blood. Her black eyes shone like a +madwoman's. Fiercely she fought to get her breath, and all the time she +clung to Joanne, and looked at Aldous. She pointed toward the rocks--the +chaotic upheaval that lay between the tepee and the chasm--and words broke +gaspingly from her lips. + +"They're coming!--coming!" she cried. "They killed Joe--murdered him--and +they're coming--to kill you!" She clutched a hand to her breast, and then +pointed with it to the mountain where MacDonald had gone. "They saw him +go--and they sent two men to kill him; and the rest are coming through the +rocks!" She turned sobbingly to Joanne. "They killed Joe," she moaned. +"They killed Joe, and they're coming--for _you!_" + +The emphasis on that final word struck like a blow in the ears of John +Aldous. + +"Run for the spruce!" he commanded. "Joanne, run!" + +Marie had crumpled down in a moaning heap at Joanne's feet, and sat swaying +with her face in her hands. + +"They killed him--they murdered my Joe!" she was sobbing. "And it was my +fault--my fault! I trapped him! I sold him! And, oh, my God, I loved him--I +loved him!" + +"Run, Joanne!" commanded Aldous a second time. "Run for the spruce!" + +Instead of obeying him, Joanne knelt down beside Marie. + +He went to speak again, but there came an interruption--a thing that was +like the cold touch of lead in his own heart. From up on the mountain where +the old mountaineer had walked into the face of death there came the +sharp, splitting report of a rifle; and in that same instant it was +followed by another and still a third--quick, stinging, whiplike +reports--and he knew that not one of them had come from the gun of Donald +MacDonald! + +And then he saw that the rocks behind the tepee had become suddenly alive +with men! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Sheer amazement made Aldous hold his fire in that first moment. Marie had +said that two men were after MacDonald. He had heard three shots nearly a +mile away, and she was still sobbing that DeBar was dead. That accounted +for _three_. He had expected to see only Quade, and FitzHugh, and one other +behind the tepee. And there were six! He counted them as they came swiftly +out from the shelter of the rocks to the level of the plain. He was about +to fire when he thought of Joanne and Marie. They were still behind him, +crouching upon the ground. To fire from where he stood would draw a +fusillade of bullets in their direction, and with another warning cry to +Joanne, he sped twenty paces to one side so that they would not be within +range. Not until then did the attacking party see him. + +At a hundred and fifty yards he had no time to pick out Quade or Mortimer +FitzHugh. He fired first at a group of three, and one of the three crumpled +down as though his skull had been crushed from above. A rifle spat back at +him and the bullet sang like a ripping cloth close over his head. He +dropped to his knees before he fired again, and a bullet clove the air +where he had stood. The crack of rifles did not hurry him. He knew that he +had six cartridges, and only six, and he aimed deliberately. At his second +shot the man he had fired at ran forward three or four steps, and then +pitched flat on his face. For a flash Aldous thought that it was Mortimer +FitzHugh. Then, along his gun barrel, he saw FitzHugh--and pulled the +trigger. It was a miss. + +Two men had dropped upon their knees and were aiming more carefully. He +swung his sight to the foremost, and drove a bullet straight through his +chest. The next moment something seemed to have fallen upon him with +crushing weight. A red sea rose before his eyes. In it he was submerged; +the roar of it filled his ears; it blinded him; and in the suffocating +embrace of it he tried to cry out. He fought himself out of it, his eyes +cleared, and he could see again. His rifle was no longer in his hands, and +he was standing. Twenty feet away men were rushing upon him. His brain +recovered itself with the swiftness of lightning. A bullet had stunned him, +but he was not badly hurt. He jerked out his automatic, but before he could +raise it, or even fire from his hip, the first of his assailants was upon +him with a force that drove it from his hand. They went down together, and +as they struggled on the bare rock Aldous caught for a fraction of a second +a scene that burned itself like fire in his brain. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh +with a revolver in his hand. He had stopped; he was staring like one +looking upon the ghost of the dead, and as he stared there rose above the +rumbling roar of the chasm a wild and terrible shriek from Joanne. + +Aldous saw no more then. He was not fighting for his life, but for her, and +he fought with the mad ferocity of a tiger. As he struck, and choked, and +beat the head of his assailant on the rock, he heard shriek after shriek +come from Joanne's lips; and then for a flash he saw them again, and +Joanne was struggling in the arms of Quade! + +He struggled to his knees, and the man he was fighting struggled to his +knees; and then they came to their feet, locked in a death-grip on the edge +of the chasm. From Quade's clutch he saw Joanne staring at Mortimer +FitzHugh; then her eyes shot to him, and with another shriek she fought to +free herself. + +For thirty seconds of that terrible drama Mortimer FitzHugh stood as if +hewn out of rock. Then he sprang toward the fighters. + +In the arms of John Aldous was the strength of ten men. He twisted the head +of his antagonist under his arm; he braced his feet--in another moment he +would have flung him bodily into the roaring maelstrom below. Even as his +muscles gathered themselves for the final effort he knew that all was lost. +Mortimer FitzHugh's face leered over his shoulder, his demoniac intention +was in his eyes before he acted. With a cry of hatred and of triumph he +shoved them both over the edge, and as Aldous plunged to the depths below, +still holding to his enemy, he heard a last piercing scream from Joanne. + +As the rock slid away from under his feet his first thought was that the +end had come, and that no living creature could live in the roaring +maelstrom of rock and, flood into which he was plunging. But quicker than +he dashed through space his mind worked. Instinctively, without time for +reasoning, he gripped at the fact that his one chance lay in the close +embrace of his enemy. He hung to him. It seemed to him that they turned +over and over a hundred times in that distance of fifty feet. Then a mass +of twisting foam broke under him, and up out of it shot the head of one of +the roaring monsters of rock that he and Joanne had looked upon. They +struck it fairly, and Aldous was uppermost. He felt the terrific impact of +the other's body. The foam boiled upward again, and they slipped off into +the flood. + +Still Aldous held to his enemy. He could feel that he was limp now; he no +longer felt the touch of the hands that had choked him, or the embrace of +the arms that had struggled with him. He believed that his antagonist was +dead. The fifty-foot fall, with the rock splitting his back, had killed +him. For a moment Aldous still clung to him as they sank together under the +surface, torn and twisted by the whirling eddies and whirlpools. It seemed +to him that they would never cease going down, that they were sinking a +vast distance. + +Dully he felt the beat of rocks. Then it flashed upon him that the dead man +was sinking like a weighted thing. He freed himself. Fiercely he struggled +to bring himself to the surface. It seemed an eternity before he rose to +the top. He opened his mouth and drew a great gulp of air into his lungs. +The next instant a great rock reared like a living thing in his face; he +plunged against it, was beaten over it, and again he was going +down--down--in that deadly clutch of maelstrom and undertow. Again he +fought, and again he came to the surface. He saw a black, slippery wall +gliding past him with the speed of an express train. And now it seemed as +though a thousand clubs were beating him. Ahead of him were rocks--nothing +but rocks. + +He shot through them like a piece of driftwood. The roaring in his ears +grew less, and he felt the touch of something under his feet. Sunlight +burst upon him. He caught at a rock, and hung to it. His eyes cleared a +little. He was within ten feet of a shore covered with sand and gravel. The +water was smooth and running with a musical ripple. Waist-deep he waded +through it to the shore, and fell down upon his knees, with his face buried +in his arms. He had been ten minutes in the death-grip of the chasm. It was +another ten minutes before he staggered to his feet and looked about him. + +His face was beaten until he was almost blind. His shirt had been torn from +his shoulders and his flesh was bleeding. He advanced a few steps. He +raised one arm and then the other. He limped. One arm hurt him when he +moved it, but the bone was sound. He was terribly mauled, but he knew that +no bones were broken, and a gasp of thankfulness fell from his lips. All +this time his mind had been suffering even more than his body. Not for an +instant, even as he fought for life between the chasm walls, and as he lay +half unconscious on the rock, had he forgotten Joanne. His one thought was +of her now. He had no weapon, but as he stumbled in the direction of the +camp in the little plain he picked up a club that lay in his path. + +That MacDonald was dead, Aldous was certain. There would be four against +him--Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh and the two men who had gone to the +mountain. His brain cleared swiftly as a part of his strength returned, and +it occurred to him that if he lost no time he might come upon Joanne and +her captors before the two men came from killing old Donald. He tried to +run. Not until then did he fully realize the condition he was in. Twice in +the first hundred yards his legs doubled under him and he fell down among +the rocks. He grew steadily stronger, though each time he tried to run or +spring a distance of a few feet his legs doubled under him like that. It +took him twenty minutes to get back to the edge of the plain, and when he +got there it was empty. There was no sign of Quade or FitzHugh, or of +Joanne and Marie; and there was no one coming from the direction of the +mountain. + +He tried to run again, and he found that over the level floor of the valley +he could make faster time than among the rocks. He went to where he had +dropped his rifle. It was gone. He searched for his automatic. That, too, +was gone. There was one weapon left--a long skinning-knife in one of the +panniers near the tepee. As he went for this, he passed two of the men whom +he had shot. Quade and FitzHugh had taken their weapons, and had turned +them over to see if they were alive or dead. They were dead. He secured the +knife, and behind the tepee he passed the third body, its face as still and +white as the others. He shuddered as he recognized it. It was Slim Barker. +His rifle was gone. + +More swiftly now he made his way into the break out of which his assailants +had come a short time before. The thought came to him again that he had +been right, and that Donald MacDonald, in spite of all his years in the +mountains, had been fatally wrong. Their enemies had come down from the +north, and this break led to their hiding-place. Through it Joanne must +have been taken by her captors. As he made his way over the rocks, gaining +a little more of his strength with each step, his mind tried to picture the +situation that had now arisen between Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. How +would Quade, who was mad for possession of Joanne, accept FitzHugh's claim +of ownership? Would he believe his partner? Would he even believe Joanne +if, to save herself from him, she told him FitzHugh was her husband? Even +if he believed them, _would he give her up?_ Would Quade allow Mortimer +FitzHugh to stand between him and the object for which he was willing to +sacrifice everything? + +As Aldous asked himself these questions his blood ran hot and cold by +turns. And the answer to them drew a deep breath of fear and of anguish +from him as he tried again to run among the rocks. There could be but one +answer: Quade would fight. He would fight like a madman, and if this fight +had happened and FitzHugh had been killed Joanne had already gone utterly +and helplessly into his power. He believed that FitzHugh had not revealed +to Quade his relationship to Joanne while they were on the plain, and the +thought still more terrible came to him that he might not reveal it at all, +that he might repudiate Joanne even as she begged upon her knees for him to +save her. What a revenge it would be to see her helpless and broken in the +arms of Quade! And then, both being beasts---- + +He could think no farther. The sweat broke out on his face as he hobbled +faster over a level space. The sound of the water between the chasm walls +was now a thunder in his ears. He could not have heard a rifle-shot or a +scream a hundred yards away. The trail he was following had continually +grown narrower. It seemed to end a little ahead of him, and the fear that +he had come the wrong way after all filled him with dread. He came to the +face of the mountain wall, and then, to his left, he saw a crack that was +no wider than a man's body. In it there was sand, and the, sand was beaten +by footprints! He wormed his way through, and a moment later stood at the +edge of the chasm. Fifty feet above him a natural bridge of rock spanned +the huge cleft through which the stream was rushing. He crossed this, +exposing himself openly to a shot if it was guarded. But it was not +guarded. This fact convinced him that MacDonald had been killed, and that +his enemies believed he was dead. If MacDonald had escaped, and they had +feared a possible pursuit, some one would have watched the bridge. + +The trail was easy to follow now. Sand and grassy earth had replaced rock +and shale; he could make out the imprints of feet--many of them--and they +led in the direction of a piece of timber that apparently edged a valley +running to the east and west. The rumble of the torrent in the chasm grew +fainter as he advanced. A couple of hundred yards farther on the trail +swung to the left again; it took him around the end of a huge rock, and as +he appeared from behind this, his knife clutched in his hand, he dropped +suddenly flat on his face, and his heart rose like a lump in his throat. +Scarcely fifty yards above him was the camp of his enemies! There were two +tepees and piles of saddles and panniers and blankets about them, but not a +soul that he could see. And then, suddenly, there rose a voice bellowing +with rage, and he recognized it as Quade's. It came from beyond the tepee, +and he rose quickly from where he had thrown himself and ran forward, with +the tepee between him and those on the other side. Close to the canvas he +dropped on his knees and crawled out behind a pile of saddles and panniers. +From here he could see. + +So near that he could almost have touched them were Joanne and Marie, +seated on the ground, with their backs toward him. Their hands were tied +behind them. Their feet were bound with pannier ropes. A dozen paces beyond +them were Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. + +The two men were facing each other, a yard apart. Mortimer FitzHugh's face +was white, a deadly white, and he was smiling. His right hand rested +carelessly in his hunting-coat pocket. There was a sneering challenge on +his lips; in his eyes was a look that Aldous knew meant death if Quade +moved. And Quade was like a great red beast ready to spring. His eyes +seemed bulging out on his cheeks; his great hands were knotted; his +shoulders were hunched forward, and his mottled face was ablaze with +passion. In that moment's dramatic tableau Aldous glanced about swiftly. +The men from the mountain had not returned. He was alone with Quade and +Mortimer FitzHugh. + +Then FitzHugh spoke, very quietly, a little laughingly; but his voice +trembled, and Aldous knew what the hand was doing in the hunting-coat +pocket. + +"You're excited, Billy," he said. "I'm not a liar, as you've very +impolitely told me. And I'm not playing you dirt, and I haven't fallen in +love with the lady myself, as you seem to think. But she belongs to me, +body and soul. If you don't believe me--why, ask the lady herself, Billy!" + +As he spoke, he turned his sneering eyes for the fraction of a second +toward Joanne. The movement was fatal. Quade was upon him. The hand in the +coat pocket flung itself upward, there followed a muffled report, but the +bullet flew wide. In all his life Aldous had never heard a sound like the +roar that came from Quade's throat then. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh's hand +appear with a pistol in it, and then the pistol was gone. He did not see +where it went to. He gripped his knife and waited, his heart beating with +what seemed like smothered explosions as he watched for the opportunity +which he knew would soon come. He expected to see FitzHugh go down under +Quade's huge bulk. Instead of that, a small, iron fist shot upward and +Quade's head went back as if broken from his neck. + +FitzHugh sprang a step backward, and in the movement his heel caught the +edge of a pack-saddle. He stumbled, almost fell, and before he could +recover himself Quade was at him again. This time there was something in +the red brute's hand. It rose and fell once--and Mortimer FitzHugh reeled +backward with a moaning cry, swayed for a second or two on his feet, and +fell to the ground. Quade turned. In his hand was a bloody knife. Madness +and passion and the triumphant joy of a demon were in his face as he glared +at his helpless prey. As Aldous crouched lower his shoulder touched one of +the saddles. It slipped from the pile, one of the panniers followed it, and +Quade saw him. There was no longer reason for concealment, and as Quade +stood paralyzed for a moment Aldous sprang forth into the space between him +and Joanne. He heard the cry that broke strangely from her lips but he did +not turn his head. He advanced upon Quade, his head lowered, the long +skinning-knife gleaming in his hand. + +John Aldous knew that words would avail nothing in these last few minutes +between him and Quade. The latter had already hunched himself forward, the +red knife in his hand poised at his waistline. He was terrible. His huge +bulk, his red face and bull neck, his eyes popping from behind their fleshy +lids, and the dripping blade in the shapeless hulk of his hand gave him the +appearance as he stood there of some monstrous gargoyle instead of a thing +of flesh and blood. And Aldous was terrible to look at, but in a way that +wrung a moaning cry from Joanne. His face was livid from the beat of the +rocks; it was crusted with blood; his eyes were partly closed, and what +remained of his shirt was drenched with blood that still ran from the deep +cuts in his arms and shoulders. But it was he who advanced, and Quade who +stood and waited. + +Aldous knew little or nothing of knife-fighting; and he realized, also, +that there was a strange weakness in his arms and body caused by his battle +with the maelstroms in the chasm. But he had wrestled a great deal with the +Indians of the north, who fought as their half-wolf sledgedogs fought, and +he employed their methods now. Slowly and deliberately he began to circle +around Quade, so that Quade became the pivot of that circle, and as he +circled he drew nearer and nearer to his enemy, but never in a frontal +advance. He edged inward, with his knife-arm on the outside. His deadly +deliberateness and the steady glare of his eyes discomfited Quade, who +suddenly took a step backward. + +It was always when the Indian made this step that his opponent darted in; +and Aldous, with this in mind, sprang to the attack. Their knives clashed +in midair. As they met, hilt to hilt, Aldous threw his whole weight against +Quade, darted sidewise, and with a terrific lunge brought the blade of his +knife down between Quade's shoulders. A straight blade would have gone from +back to chest through muscle and sinew, but the knife which Aldous held +scarcely pierced the other's clothes. + +Not until then did he fully realize the tremendous odds against him. The +curved blade of his skinning-knife would not penetrate! His one hope was to +cut with it. He flung out his arm before Quade had fully recovered, and +blind luck carried the keen edge of the knife across his enemy's pouchy +cheek. The blood came in a spurt, and with a terrible cry Quade leaped back +toward the pile of saddles and panniers. Before Aldous could follow his +advantage the other had dropped his knife and had snatched up a four-foot +length of a tepee pole. For a moment he hesitated while the blood ran in a +hot flood down his thick neck. Then with a bellow of rage he rushed upon +Aldous. + +It was no time for knife-work now. As the avalanche of brute strength +descended upon him Aldous gathered himself for the shock. He had already +measured his own weakness. Those ten minutes among the rocks of the chasm +had broken and beaten him until his strength was gone. He was panting from +his first onset with Quade, but his brain was working. And he knew that +Quade was no longer a reasoning thing. He had ceased to think. He was blind +with the passion of the brute, and his one thought was to crush his enemy +down under the weight of the club in his huge hands. Aldous waited. He +heard Joanne's terrified scream when Quade was almost upon him--when less +than five feet separated them. The club was descending when he flung +himself forward, straight for the other's feet. The club crashed over him, +and with what strength he had he gripped Quade at the knees. With a +tremendous thud Quade came to earth. The club broke from the grip of his +hands. For a moment he was stunned, and in that moment Aldous was at his +throat. + +He would have sold the best of his life for the skinning-knife. But he had +lost it in gripping Quade. And now he choked--with every ounce of strength +in him he choked at the thick red neck of his enemy. Quade's hands reached +for his own throat. They found it. And both choked, lying there gasping and +covered with blood! while Joanne struggled vainly to free herself, and +scream after scream rang from her lips. And John Aldous knew that at last +the end had come. For there was no longer strength in his arms, and there +was something that was like a strange cramp in his fingers, while the +clutch at his own throat was turning the world black. His grip relaxed. His +hands fell limp. The last that he realized was that Quade was over him, and +that he must be dying. + +Then it was, as he lay within a final second or two of death, no longer +conscious of physical attack or of Joanne's terrible cries, that a strange +and unforeseen thing occurred. Beyond the tepee a man had risen from the +earth. He staggered toward them, and it was from Marie that the wildest and +strangest cry of all came now. For the man was Joe DeBar! In his hand he +held a knife. Swaying and stumbling he came to the fighters--from behind. +Quade did not see him, and over Quade's huge back he poised himself. The +knife rose; for the fraction of a second it trembled in midair. Then it +descended, and eight inches of steel went to the heart of Quade. + +And as DeBar turned and staggered toward Joanne and Marie, John Aldous was +sinking deeper and deeper into a black and abysmal night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +In that chaotic night in which he was drifting, light as a feather floating +on the wind, John Aldous experienced neither pain nor very much of the +sense of life. And yet, without seeing or feeling, he seemed to be living, +All was dead in him but that last consciousness, which is almost the +spirit; he might have been dreaming, and minutes, hours, or even years +might have passed in that dream. For a long time he seemed to be sinking +through the blackness; and then something stopped him, without jar or +shock, and he was rising. He could hear nothing. There was a vast silence +about him, a silence as deep and as unbroken as the abysmal pit in which he +seemed to be softly floating. + +After a time Aldous felt himself swaying and rocking, as though tossed +gently on the billows of a sea. This was the first thought that took shape +in his struggling brain--he was at sea; he was on a ship in the heart of a +black night, and he was alone. He tried to call out, but his tongue seemed +gone. It seemed a very long time before day broke, and then it was a +strange day. Little needles of light pricked his eyes; silver strings shot +like flashes of weblike lightning through the darkness, and after that he +saw for an instant a strange glare. It was gone in one big, powderlike +flash, and he was in night again. These days and nights seemed to follow +one another swiftly now, and the nights grew less dark, and the days +brighter. He was conscious of sounds and buffetings, and it was very hot. + +Out of this heat there came a cool, soft breeze that was continually +caressing his face, and eyes, and head. It was like the touch of a spirit +hand. It became more and more real to him. It caressed him into a dark and +comfortable oblivion. Out of this oblivion a still brighter day roused him. +His brain seemed clear. He opened his eyes. A white cloud was hovering over +them; it fell softly; it was cool and gentle. Then it rose again, and it +was not a cloud, but a hand! The hand moved away, and he was looking into a +pair of wide-open, staring, prayerful eyes, and a little cry came to him, +and a voice. + +"John--John----" + +He was drifting again, but now he knew that he was alive. He heard +movement. He heard voices. They were growing nearer and more distinct. He +tried to cry out Joanne's name, and it came in a whispering breath between +his lips. But Joanne heard; and he heard her calling to him; he felt her +hands; she was imploring him to open his eyes, to speak to her. It seemed +many minutes before he could do this, but at last he succeeded. And this +time his vision was not so blurred. He could see plainly. Joanne was there, +hovering over him, and just beyond her was the great bearded face of Donald +MacDonald. And then, before words had formed on his lips, he did a +wonderful thing. He smiled. + +"O my God, I thank Thee!" he heard Joanne cry out, and then she was on her +knees, and her face was against his, and she was sobbing. + +He knew that it was MacDonald who drew her away. + +The great head bent over him. + +"Take this, will 'ee, Johnny boy?" + +Aldous stared. + +"Mac, you're--alive," he breathed. + +"Alive as ever was, Johnny. Take this." + +He swallowed. And then Joanne hovered over him again, and he put up his +hands to her face, and her glorious eyes were swimming seas as she kissed +him and choked back the sobs in her throat. He buried his fingers in her +hair. He held her head close to him, and for many minutes no one spoke, +while MacDonald stood and looked down on them. In those minutes everything +returned to him. The fight was over. MacDonald had come in time to save him +from Quade. But--and now his eyes stared upward through the sheen of +Joanne's hair--he was in a cabin! He recognized it. It was Donald +MacDonald's old home. When Joanne raised her head he looked about him +without speaking. He was in the wide bunk built against the wall. Sunlight +was filtering through a white curtain at the window, and in the open door +he saw the anxious face of Marie. + +He tried to lift himself, and was amazed to find that he could not. Very +gently Joanne urged him back on his pillow. Her face was a glory of life +and of joy. He obeyed her as he would have obeyed the hand of the Madonna. +She saw all his questioning. + +"You must be quiet, John," she said, and never had he heard in her voice +the sweetness of love that was in it now. "We will tell you +everything--Donald and I. But you must be quiet. You were terribly beaten +among the rocks. We brought you here at noon, and the sun is setting--and +until now you have not opened your eyes. Everything is well. But you must +be quiet. You were terribly bruised by the rocks, dear." + +It was sweet to lie under the caresses of her hand. He drew her face down +to him. + +"Joanne, my darling, you understand now--why I wanted to come alone into +the North?" + +Her lips pressed warm and soft against his. + +"I know," she whispered, and he could feel her arras trembling, and her +breath coming quickly. Gently she drew away from him. "I am going to make +you some broth," she said then. + +He watched her as she went out of the cabin, one white hand lifted to her +throat. + +Old Donald MacDonald seated himself on the edge of the bunk. He looked down +at Aldous, chuckling in his beard; and Aldous, with his bruised and swollen +face and half-open eyes, grinned like a happy fiend. + +"It was a wunerful, wunerful fight, Johnny!" said old Donald. + +"It was, Mac. And you came in fine on the home stretch!" + +"What d'ye mean--home stretch?" queried Donald leaning over. + +"You saved me from Quade." + +Donald fairly groaned. + +"I didn't, Johnny--I didn't! DeBar killed 'im. It was all over when I come. +On'y--Johnny--I had a most cur'ous word with Culver Rann afore he died!" + +In his eagerness Aldous was again trying to sit up when Joanne appeared in +the doorway. With a little cry she darted to him, forced him gently back, +and brushed old Donald off the edge of the bunk. + +"Go out and watch the broth, Donald," she commanded firmly. Then she said +to Aldous, stroking back his hair, "I forbade you to talk. John, dear, +aren't you going to mind me?" + +"Did Quade get me with the knife?" he asked. + +"No, no." + +"Am I shot?" + +"No, dear." + +"Any bones broken?" + +"Donald says not." + +"Then please give me my pipe, Joanne--and let me get up. Why do you want me +to lie here when I'm strong like an ox, as Donald says?" + +Joanne laughed happily. + +"You _are_ getting better every minute," she cried joyously. "But you were +terribly beaten by the rocks, John. If you will wait until you have the +broth I will let you sit up." + +A few minutes later, when he had swallowed his broth, Joanne kept her +promise. Only then did he realize that there was not a bone or a muscle in +his body that did not have its own particular ache. He grimaced when Joanne +and Donald bolstered him up with blankets at his back. But he was happy. +Twilight was coming swiftly, and as Joanne gave the final pats and turns to +the blankets and pillows, MacDonald was lighting half a dozen candles +placed around the room. + +"Any watch to-night, Donald?" asked Aldous. + +"No, Johnny, there ain't no watch to-night," replied the old mountaineer. + +He came and seated himself on a bench with Joanne. For half an hour after +that Aldous listened to a recital of the strange things that had +happened--how poor marksmanship had saved MacDonald on the mountain-side, +and how at last the duel had ended with the old hunter killing those who +had come to slay him. When they came to speak of DeBar, Joanne leaned +nearer to Aldous. + +"It is wonderful what love will sometimes do," she spoke softly. "In the +last few hours Marie has bared her soul to me, John. What she has been she +has not tried to hide from me, nor even from the man she loves. She was one +of Mortimer FitzHugh's tools. DeBar saw her and loved her, and she sold +herself to him in exchange for the secret of the gold. When they came into +the North the wonderful thing happened. She loved DeBar--not in the way of +her kind, but as a woman in whom had been born a new heart and a new soul +and a new joy. She defied FitzHugh; she told DeBar how she had tricked him. + +"This morning FitzHugh attempted his old familiarity with her, and DeBar +struck him down. The act gave them excuse for what they had planned to do. +Before her eyes Marie thought they had killed the man she loved. She flung +herself on his breast, and she said she could not feel his heart beat, and +his blood flowed warm against her hands and face. Both she and DeBar had +determined to warn us if they could. Only a few minutes before DeBar was +stabbed he had let off his rifle--an accident, he said. But it was not an +accident. It was the shot Donald heard in the cavern. It saved us, John! +And Marie, waiting her opportunity, fled to us in the plain. DeBar was not +killed. He says my screams brought him back to life. He came out--and +killed Quade with a knife. Then he fell at our feet. A few minutes later +Donald came. DeBar is in another cabin. He is not fatally hurt, and Marie +is happy." + +She was stroking his hand when she finished. The curious rumbling came +softly in MacDonald's beard and his eyes were bright with a whimsical +humour. + +"I pretty near bored a hole through poor Joe when I come up," he chuckled. +"But you bet I hugged him when I found what he'd done, Johnny! Joe says +their camp was just over the range from us that night FitzHugh looked us +up, an' Joanne thought she'd been dreamin'. He didn't have any help, but +his intention was to finish us alone--murder us asleep--when Joanne cried +out. Joe says it was just a devil's freak that took 'im to the top of the +mountain alone that night. He saw our fire an' came down to investigate." + +A low voice was calling outside the door. It was Marie. As Joanne went to +her a quick gleam came into old Donald's eyes. He looked behind him +cautiously to see that she had disappeared, then he bent over Aldous, and +whispered hoarsely: + +"Johnny, I had a most cur'ous word with Rann--or FitzHugh--afore he died! +He wasn't dead when I went to him. But he knew he was dyin'; an' Johnny, he +was smilin' an' cool to the end. I wanted to ask 'im a question, Johnny. I +was dead cur'ous to know _why the grave were empty!_ But he asked for +Joanne, an' I couldn't break in on his last breath. I brought her. The +first thing he asked her was how people had took it when they found out +he'd poisoned his father! When Joanne told him no one had ever thought he'd +killed his father, FitzHugh sat leanin' against the saddles for a minit so +white an' still I thought he 'ad died with his eyes open. Then it came out, +Johnny. He was smilin' as he told it. He killed his father with poison to +get his money. Later he came to America. He didn't have time to tell us how +he come to think they'd discovered his crime. He was dyin' as he talked. It +came out sort o' slobberingly, Johnny. He thought they'd found 'im out. He +changed his name, an' sent out the report that Mortimer FitzHugh had died +in the mount'ins. But Johnny, he died afore I could ask him about the +grave!" + +There was a final note of disappointment in old Donald's voice that was +almost pathetic. + +"It was such a cur'ous grave," he said. "An' the clothes were laid out so +prim an' nice." + +Aldous laid his hand on MacDonald's. + +"It's easy, Mac," he said, and he wanted to laugh at the disappointment +that was still in the other's face. "Don't you see? He never expected any +one to dig _into_ the grave. And he put the clothes and the watch and the +ring in there to get rid of them. They might have revealed his identity. +Why, Donald----" + +Joanne was coming to them again. She laid a cool hand on his forehead and +held up a warning finger to MacDonald. + +"Hush!" she said gently, "Your head is very hot, dear, and there must be +no more talking. You must lie down and sleep. Tell John good-night, +Donald!" + +Like a boy MacDonald did as she told him, and disappeared through the cabin +door. Joanne levelled the pillows and lowered John's head. + +"I can't sleep, Joanne," he protested. + +"I will sit here close at your side and stroke your face and hair," she +said gently. + +"And you will talk to me?" + +"No, I must not talk. But, John----" + +"Yes, dear." + +"If you will promise to be very, very quiet, and let me be very quiet----" + +"Yes." + +"I will make you a pillow of my hair." + +"I--will be quiet," he whispered. + +She unbound her hair, and leaned over so that it fell in a flood on his +pillow. With a sigh of contentment he buried his face in the rich, sweet +masses of it. Gently, like the cooling breeze that had come to him in his +hours of darkness, her hand caressed him. He closed his eyes; he drank in +the intoxicating perfume of her tresses; and after a little he slept. + +For many hours Joanne sat at his bedside, sleepless, and rejoicing. + +When Aldous awoke it was dawn in the cabin. Joanne was gone. For a few +minutes he continued to lie with his face toward the window. He knew that +he had slept a long time, and that the day was breaking. Slowly he raised +himself. The terrible ache in his body was gone; he was still lame, but no +longer helpless. He drew himself cautiously to the edge of the bunk and +sat there for a time, testing himself before he got up. He was delighted at +the result of the experiments. He rose to his feet. His clothes were +hanging against the wall, and he dressed himself. Then he opened the door +and walked out into the morning, limping a little as he went. MacDonald was +up. Joanne's tepee was close to the cabin. The two men greeted each other +quietly, and they talked in low voices, but Joanne heard them, and a few +moments later she ran out with her hair streaming about her and went +straight into the arms of John Aldous. + +This was the beginning of the three wonderful days that yet remained for +Joanne and John Aldous in Donald MacDonald's little valley of gold and +sunshine and blue skies. They were strange and beautiful days, filled with +a great peace and a great happiness, and in them wonderful changes were at +work. On the second day Joanne and Marie rode alone to the cavern where +Jane lay, and when they returned in the golden sun of the afternoon they +were leading their horses, and walking hand in hand. And when they came +down to where DeBar and Aldous and Donald MacDonald were testing the +richness of the black sand along the stream there was a light in Marie's +eyes and a radiance in Joanne's face which told again that world-old story +of a Mary Magdalene and the dawn of another Day. And now, Aldous thought, +Marie had become beautiful; and Joanne laughed softly and happily that +night, and confided many things into the ears of Aldous, while Marie and +DeBar talked for a long time alone out under the stars, and came back at +last hand in hand, like two children. Before they went to bed Marie +whispered something to Joanne, and a little later Joanne whispered it to +Aldous. + +"They want to know if they can be married with us, John," she said. "That +is, if you haven't grown tired of trying to marry me, dear," she added with +a happy laugh. "Have you?" + +His answer satisfied her. And when she told a small part of it to Marie, +the other woman's dark eyes grew as soft as the night, and she whispered +the words to Joe. + +The third and last day was the most beautiful of all. Joe's knife wound was +not bad. He had suffered most from a blow on the head. Both he and Aldous +were in condition to travel, and plans were made to begin the homeward +journey on the fourth morning. MacDonald had unearthed another dozen sacks +of the hidden gold, and he explained to Aldous what must be done to secure +legal possession of the little valley. His manner of doing this was +unnatural and strained. His words came haltingly. There was unhappiness in +his eyes. It was in his voice. It was in the odd droop of his shoulders. +And finally, when they were alone, he said to Aldous, with almost a sob in +his voice: + +"Johnny--Johnny, if on'y the gold were not here!" + +He turned his eyes to the mountain, and Aldous took one of his big gnarled +hands in both his own. + +"Say it, Mac," he said gently. "I guess I know what it is." + +"It ain't fair to you, Johnny," said old Donald, still with his eyes on the +mountains. "It ain't fair to you. But when you take out the claims down +there it'll start a rush. You know what it means, Johnny. There'll be a +thousand men up here; an' mebby you can't understand--but there's the +cavern an' Jane an' the little cabin here; an' it seems like desecratin' +_her_." + +His voice choked, and as Aldous gripped the big hand harder in his own he +laughed. + +"It would, Mac," he said. "I've been watching you while we made the plans. +These cabins and the gold have been here for more than forty years without +discovery, Donald--and they won't be discovered again so long as Joe DeBar +and John Aldous and Donald MacDonald have a word to say about it. We'll +take out no claims, Mac. The valley isn't ours. It's Jane's valley and +yours!" + +Joanne, coming up just then, wondered what the two men had been saying that +they stood as they did, with hands clasped. Aldous told her. And then old +Donald confessed to them what was in his mind, and what he had kept from +them. At last he had found his home, and he was not going to leave it +again. He was going to stay with Jane. He was going to bring her from the +cavern and bury her near the cabin, and he pointed out the spot, covered +with wild hyacinths and asters, where she used to sit on the edge of the +stream and watch him while he worked for gold. And they could return each +year and dig for gold, and he would dig for gold while they were away, and +they could have it all. All that he wanted was enough to eat, and Jane, and +the little valley. And Joanne turned from him as he talked, her face +streaming with tears, and in John's throat was a great lump, and he looked +away from MacDonald to the mountains. + +So it came to pass that on the fourth morning, when they went into the +south, they stopped on the last knoll that shut out the little valley from +the larger valley, and looked back. And Donald MacDonald stood alone in +front of the cabin waving them good-bye. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hunted Woman, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11328 *** diff --git a/11328-h/11328-h.htm b/11328-h/11328-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5b17f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/11328-h/11328-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9593 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hunted Woman, by James Oliver Curwood. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 100%; font-size: 8pt; justify: right;} /* page numbers */ + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem .caesura {vertical-align: -200%;} + // --> + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11328 ***</div> + +<h1>THE HUNTED WOMAN</h1> +<br> +<h3>BY</h3> +<br> +<h2>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD</h2> +<br> +<h3>Author of KAZAN, Etc.</h3> +<br> +<h4>Illustrated by</h4> +<br> +<h4>FRANK B. HOFFMAN</h4> +<br> +<h5>NEW YORK<br> +GROSSET & DUNLAP</h5> +<br> +<h5>1915</h5> +<br> +<h3>TO MY WIFE +<br> +AND<br> +<br> +OUR COMRADES OF THE TRAIL</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<br> + +<a name="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/001.jpg" height="300" width="414" +alt=""Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald.""> +</center> + +<h5>"Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald."</h5> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<b>CONTENTS</b><br><br> +<a href="#LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"><b>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX</b></a><br> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a><h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<a href="#image-1"><b>"Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald."</b></a><br> + +<a href="#image-2"><b>A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them Dotty Dimples +come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a little, an' +so I sent her to Bill's place"</b></a><br> + +<a href="#image-3"><b>"A crowd was gathering.... A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering +silk was standing beside a huge brown bear"</b></a><br> + +<a href="#image-4"><b>"The tunnel is closed,' she whispered.... 'That means we have just +forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."</b></a><br> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_I"></a><h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> + +<p>It was all new—most of it singularly dramatic and even appalling to the +woman who sat with the pearl-gray veil drawn closely about her face. For +eighteen hours she had been a keenly attentive, wide-eyed, and partly +frightened bit of humanity in this onrush of "the horde." She had heard a +voice behind her speak of it as "the horde"—a deep, thick, gruff voice +which she knew without looking had filtered its way through a beard. She +agreed with the voice. It was the Horde—that horde which has always beaten +the trails ahead for civilization and made of its own flesh and blood the +foundation of nations. For months it had been pouring steadily into the +mountains—always in and never out, a laughing, shouting, singing, +blaspheming Horde, every ounce of it toughened sinew and red brawn, except +the Straying Angels. One of these sat opposite her, a dark-eyed girl with +over-red lips and hollowed cheeks, and she heard the bearded man say +something to his companions about "dizzy dolls" and "the little angel in +the other seat." This same voice, gruffened in its beard, had told her that +ten thousand of the Horde had gone up ahead of them. Then it whispered +something that made her hands suddenly tighten and a hot flush sweep +through her. She lifted her veil and rose slowly from her seat, as if to +rearrange her dress. Casually she looked straight into the faces of the +bearded man and his companion in the seat behind. They stared. After that +she heard nothing more of the Straying Angels, but only a wildly mysterious +confabulation about "rock hogs," and "coyotes" that blew up whole +mountains, and a hundred and one things about the "rail end." She learned +that it was taking five hundred steers a week to feed the Horde that lay +along the Grand Trunk Pacific between Hogan's Camp and the sea, and that +there were two thousand souls at Tête Jaune Cache, which until a few months +before had slumbered in a century-old quiet broken only by the Indian and +his trade. Then the train stopped in its twisting trail, and the bearded +man and his companion left the car. As they passed her they glanced down. +Again the veil was drawn close. A shimmering tress of hair had escaped its +bondage; that was all they saw.</p> + +<p>The veiled woman drew a deeper breath when they were gone. She saw that +most of the others were getting off. In her end of the car the +hollow-cheeked girl and she were alone. Even in their aloneness these two +women had not dared to speak until now. The one raised her veil again, and +their eyes met across the aisle. For a moment the big, dark, sick-looking +eyes of the "angel" stared. Like the bearded man and his companion, she, +too, understood, and an embarrassed flush added to the colour of the rouge +on her cheeks. The eyes that looked across at her were blue—deep, quiet, +beautiful. The lifted veil had disclosed to her a face that she could not +associate with the Horde. The lips smiled at her—the wonderful eyes +softened with a look of understanding, and then the veil was lowered again. +The flush in the girl's cheek died out, and she smiled back.</p> + +<p>"You are going to Tête Jaune?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. May I sit with you for a few minutes? I want to ask questions—so +many!"</p> + +<p>The hollow-cheeked girl made room for her at her side.</p> + +<p>"You are new?"</p> + +<p>"Quite new—to this."</p> + +<p>The words, and the manner in which they were spoken, made the other glance +quickly at her companion.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange place to go—Tête Jaune," she said. "It is a terrible +place for a woman."</p> + +<p>"And yet you are going?"</p> + +<p>"I have friends there. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The girl stared at her in amazement. Her voice and her eyes were bolder +now.</p> + +<p>"And without friends you are going—<i>there?</i>" she cried. "You have no +husband—no brother——"</p> + +<p>"What place is this?" interrupted the other, raising her veil so that she +could look steadily into the other's face. "Would you mind telling me?"</p> + +<p>"It is Miette," replied the girl, the flush reddening her cheeks again. +"There's one of the big camps of the railroad builders down on the Flats. +You can see it through the window. That river is the Athabasca."</p> + +<p>"Will the train stop here very long?"</p> + +<p>The Little Angel shrugged her thin shoulders despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Long enough to get me into The Cache mighty late to-night," she +complained. "We won't move for two hours."</p> + +<p>"I'd be so glad if you could tell me where I can go for a bath and +something to eat. I'm not very hungry—but I'm terribly dusty. I want to +change some clothes, too. Is there a hotel here?"</p> + +<p>Her companion found the question very funny. She had a giggling fit before +she answered.</p> + +<p>"You're sure new," she explained. "We don't have hotels up here. We have +bed-houses, chuck-tents, and bunk-shacks. You ask for Bill's Shack down +there on the Flats. It's pretty good. They'll give you a room, plenty of +water, and a looking-glass—an' charge you a dollar. I'd go with you, but +I'm expecting a friend a little later, and if I move I may lose him. +Anybody will tell you where Bill's place is. It's a red an' white striped +tent—and it's respectable."</p> + +<p>The stranger girl thanked her, and turned for her bag. As she left the car, +the Little Angel's eyes followed her with a malicious gleam that gave them +the strange glow of candles in a sepulchral cavern. The colours which she +unfurled to all seeking eyes were not secret, and yet she was filled with +an inward antagonism that this stranger with the wonderful blue eyes had +dared to see them and recognize them. She stared after the retreating +form—a tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure that filled her with envy and +a dull sort of hatred. She did not hear a step behind her. A hand fell +familiarly on her shoulder, and a coarse voice laughed something in her ear +that made her jump up with an artificial little shriek of pleasure. The man +nodded toward the end of the now empty car.</p> + +<p>"Who's your new friend?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She's no friend of mine," snapped the girl. "She's another one of them +Dolly Dimples come out to save the world. She's that innocent she wonders +why Tête Jaune ain't a nice place for ladies without escort. I thought I'd +help eggicate her a little an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, +I told her it was respectable!"</p> + +<p>She doubled over the seat in a fit of merriment, and her companion seized +the opportunity to look out of the window.</p> + +<p>The tall, blue-eyed stranger had paused for a moment on the last step of +the car to pin up her veil, fully revealing her face. Then she stepped +lightly to the ground, and found herself facing the sunlight and the +mountains. She drew a slow, deep breath between her parted lips, and turned +wonderingly, for a moment forgetful. It was the first time she had left the +train since entering the mountains, and she understood now why some one in +the coach had spoken of the Miette Plain as Sunshine Pool. Where-ever she +looked the mountains fronted her, with their splendid green slopes reaching +up to their bald caps of gray shale and reddish rock or gleaming summits of +snow. Into this "pool"—this pocket in the mountains—the sun descended in +a wonderful flood. It stirred her blood like a tonic. She breathed more +quickly; a soft glow coloured her cheeks; her eyes grew more deeply violet +as they caught the reflection of the blue sky. A gentle wind fretted the +loose tendrils of brown hair about her face. And the bearded man, staring +through the car window, saw her thus, and for an hour after that the +hollow-cheeked girl wondered at the strange change in him.</p> + +<p>The train had stopped at the edge of the big fill overlooking the Flats. It +was a heavy train, and a train that was helping to make history—a +combination of freight, passenger, and "cattle." It had averaged eight +miles an hour on its climb toward Yellowhead Pass and the end of steel. The +"cattle" had already surged from their stifling and foul-smelling cars in a +noisy inundation of curiously mixed humanity. They were of a dozen +different nationalities, and as the girl looked at them it was not with +revulsion or scorn but with a sudden quickening of heartbeat and a little +laugh that had in it something both of wonder and of pride. This was the +Horde, that crude, monstrous thing of primitive strength and passions that +was overturning mountains in its fight to link the new Grand Trunk Pacific +with the seaport on the Pacific. In that Horde, gathered in little groups, +shifting, sweeping slowly toward her and past her, she saw something as +omnipotent as the mountains themselves. They could not know defeat. She +sensed it without ever having seen them before. For her the Horde now had a +heart and a soul. These were the builders of empire—the man-beasts who +made it possible for Civilization to creep warily and without peril into +new places and new worlds. With a curious shock she thought of the +half-dozen lonely little wooden crosses she had seen through the car window +at odd places along the line of rail.</p> + +<p>And now she sought her way toward the Flats. To do this she had to climb +over a track that was waiting for ballast. A car shunted past her, and on +its side she saw the big, warning red placards—Dynamite. That one word +seemed to breathe to her the spirit of the wonderful energy that was +expending itself all about her. From farther on in the mountains came the +deep, sullen detonations of the "little black giant" that had been rumbling +past her in the car. It came again and again, like the thunderous voice of +the mountains themselves calling out in protest and defiance. And each time +she felt a curious thrill under her feet and the palpitant touch of +something that was like a gentle breath in her ears. She found another +track on her way, and other cars slipped past her crunchingly. Beyond this +second track she came to a beaten road that led down into the Flats, and +she began to descend.</p> + +<a name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/002.jpg" height="456" width="300" +alt="A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!""> +</center> + +<h5>A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!"</h5> + +<p>Tents shone through the trees on the bottom. The rattle of the cars grew +more distant, and she heard the hum and laughter of voices and the jargon +of a phonograph. At the bottom of the slope she stepped aside to allow a +team and wagon to pass. The wagon was loaded with boxes that rattled and +crashed about as the wheels bumped over stones and roots. The driver of the +team did not look at her. He was holding back with his whole weight; his +eyes bulged a little; he was sweating, in his face was a comedy of +expression that made the girl smile in spite of herself. Then she saw one +of the bobbing boxes and the smile froze into a look of horror. On it was +painted that ominous word—DYNAMITE!</p> + +<p>Two men were coming behind her.</p> + +<p>"Six horses, a wagon an' old Fritz—blown to hell an' not a splinter left +to tell the story," one of them was saying. "I was there three minutes +after the explosion and there wasn't even a ravelling or a horsehair left. +This dynamite's a dam' funny thing. I wouldn't be a rock-hog for a +million!"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather be a rock-hog than Joe—drivin' down this hill a dozen times a +day," replied the other.</p> + +<p>The girl had paused again, and the two men stared at her as they were about +to pass. The explosion of Joe's dynamite could not have startled them more +than the beauty of the face that was turned to them in a quietly appealing +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I am looking for a place called—Bill's Shack," she said, speaking the +Little Sister's words hesitatingly. "Can you direct me to it, please?"</p> + +<p>The younger of the two men looked at his companion without speaking. The +other, old enough to regard feminine beauty as a trap and an illusion, +turned aside to empty his mouth of a quid of tobacco, bent over, and +pointed under the trees.</p> + +<p>"Can't miss it—third tent-house on your right, with canvas striped like a +barber-pole. That phonnygraff you hear is at Bill's."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>She went on.</p> + +<p>Behind her, the two men stood where she had left them. They did not move. +The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe.</p> + +<p>"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't +believe——"</p> + +<p>"Shucks!" interjected the other.</p> + +<p>"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna—with the +heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful. +You call me a fool if you want to—I'm goin' on to Bill's!"</p> + +<p>He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly the +older man was at his side, clutching his arm.</p> + +<p>"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big +enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the +wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right +place."</p> + +<p>At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were not +unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked calmly and +undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There were half a dozen +lounging there, smoking and listening to the phonograph, which some one now +stopped that they might hear every word that was spoken. The girl's head +was high. She was beginning to understand that it would have been less +embarrassing to have gone hungry and dusty. But she had come this far, and +she was determined to get what she wanted—if it was to be had. The colour +shone a little more vividly through the pure whiteness of her skin as she +faced Bill, leaning over his little counter. In him she recognized the +Brute. It was blazoned in his face, in the hungry, seeking look of his +eyes—in the heavy pouches and thick crinkles of his neck and cheeks. For +once Bill Quade himself was at a loss.</p> + +<p>"I understand that you have rooms for rent," she said unemotionally. "May I +hire one until the train leaves for Tête Jaune Cache?"</p> + +<p>The listeners behind her stiffened and leaned forward. One of them grinned +at Quade. This gave him the confidence he needed to offset the fearless +questioning in the blue eyes. None of them noticed a newcomer in the door. +Quade stepped from behind his shelter and faced her.</p> + +<p>"This way," he said, and turned to the drawn curtains beyond them.</p> + +<p>She followed. As the curtains closed after them a chuckling laugh broke the +silence of the on-looking group. The newcomer in the doorway emptied the +bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the breast-pocket of his flannel +shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was blond, shot a little with gray. He +was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than the girl herself, slim-waisted, +with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as they rested on the +still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray. His face was thin +and bronzed, his nose a trifle prominent. He was a man far from handsome, +and yet there was something of fascination and strength about him. He did +not belong to the Horde. Yet he might have been the force behind it, +contemptuous of the chuckling group of rough-visaged men, almost arrogant +in his posture as he eyed the curtains and waited.</p> + +<p>What he expected soon came. It was not the usual giggling, the usual +exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains. Quade did +not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with a sort of +exultant satisfaction. The girl preceded him. She flung the curtains aside +and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire, her blue eyes +filled with the flash of lightning. She came down the single step. Quade +followed her. He put out a hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't take offence, girly," he expostulated. "Look here—ain't it +reasonable to s'pose——"</p> + +<p>He got no farther. The man in the door had advanced, placing himself at the +girl's side. His voice was low and unexcited.</p> + +<p>"You have made a mistake?" he said.</p> + +<p>She took him in at a glance—his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his +slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have made a mistake—a terrible mistake!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it ain't fair to take offence," Quade went on. "Now, look +here——"</p> + +<p>In his hand was a roll of bills. The girl did not know that a man could +strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger +struck then. There was one blow, and Quade went down limply. It was so +sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had happened.</p> + +<p>"I chanced to see you go in," he explained, without a tremor in his voice. +"I thought you were making a mistake. I heard you ask for shelter. If you +will come with me I will take you to a friend's."</p> + +<p>"If it isn't too much trouble for you, I will go," she said. "And for +that—in there—thank you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_II"></a><h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> + +<p>They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which +faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town. It +was chiefly of canvas. Now and then a structure of logs added an appearance +of solidity to the whole. The girl did not look too closely. She knew that +they passed places in which there were long rows of cots, and that others +were devoted to trade. She noticed signs which advertised soft drinks and +cigars—always "soft drinks," which sometimes came into camp marked as +"dynamite," "salt pork," and "flour." She was conscious that every one +stared at them as they passed. She heard clearly the expressions of wonder +and curiosity of two women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in +front of a rooming-tent. She looked at the man at her side. She appreciated +his courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship. In her eyes +was a ripple of amusement.</p> + +<p>"This is all strange and new to me—and not at all uninteresting," she +said. "I came expecting—everything. And I am finding it. Why do they stare +at me so? Am I a curiosity?"</p> + +<p>"You are," he answered bluntly. "You are the most beautiful woman they have +ever seen."</p> + +<p>His eyes encountered hers as he spoke. He had answered her question fairly. +There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look. She had +asked for information, and he had given it. In spite of herself the girl's +lips trembled. Her colour deepened. She smiled.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," she entreated. "I seldom feel like laughing, but I almost do +now. I have encountered so many curious people and have heard so many +curious things during the past twenty-four hours. You don't believe in +concealing your thoughts out here in the wilderness, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't expressed <i>my</i> thoughts," he corrected. "I was telling you what +<i>they</i> think."</p> + +<p>"Oh-h-h—I beg your pardon again!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," he answered lightly, and now his eyes were laughing frankly +into her own. "I don't mind informing you," he went on, "that I am the +biggest curiosity you will meet between this side of the mountains and the +sea. I am not accustomed to championing women. I allow them to pursue their +own course without personal interference on my part. But—I suppose it will +give you some satisfaction if I confess it—I followed you into Bill's +place because you were more than ordinarily beautiful, and because I wanted +to see fair play. I knew you were making a mistake. I knew what would +happen."</p> + +<p>They had passed the end of the street, and entered a little green plain +that was soft as velvet underfoot. On the farther side of this, sheltered +among the trees, were two or three tents. The man led the way toward these.</p> + +<p>"Now, I suppose I've spoiled it all," he went on, a touch of irony in his +voice. "It was really quite heroic of me to follow you into Bill's place, +don't you think? You probably want to tell me so, but don't quite dare. +And I should play up to my part, shouldn't I? But I cannot—not +satisfactorily. I'm really a bit disgusted with myself for having taken as +much interest in you as I have. I write books for a living. My name is John +Aldous."</p> + +<p>With a little cry of amazement, his companion stopped. Without knowing it, +her hand had gripped his arm.</p> + +<p>"You are John Aldous—who wrote 'Fair Play,' and 'Women!'" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, amusement in his face.</p> + +<p>"I have read those books—and I have read your plays," she breathed, a +mysterious tremble in her voice. "You despise women!"</p> + +<p>"Devoutly."</p> + +<p>She drew a deep breath. Her hand dropped from his arm.</p> + +<p>"This is very, very funny," she mused, gazing off to the sun-capped peaks +of the mountains. "You have flayed women alive. You have made them want to +mob you. And yet——"</p> + +<p>"Millions of them read my books," he chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Yes—all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into his +face. "And I guess—in many ways—you have pointed out things that are +true."</p> + +<p>It was his turn to show surprise.</p> + +<p>"You believe that?"</p> + +<p>"I do. More than that—I have always thought that I knew your secret—the +big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal +because you know the world would laugh at you. And so—<i>you despise me!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Not you."</p> + +<p>"I am a woman."</p> + +<p>He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red.</p> + +<p>"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you +were going to leave on the Tête Jaune train. I am going to take you to a +real dinner. And now—I should let those good people know your name."</p> + +<p>A moment—unflinching and steady—she looked into his face.</p> + +<p>"It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in +fiction. Joanne Gray."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell +new-baked bread."</p> + +<p>As they moved on he suddenly touched her arm. She felt for a moment the +firm clasp of his fingers. There was a new light in his eyes, a glow of +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I have it!" he cried. "You have brought it to me—the idea. I have been +wanting a name for <i>her</i>—the woman in my new book. She is to be a +tremendous surprise. I haven't found a name, until now—one that fits. I +shall call her Ladygray!"</p> + +<p>He felt the girl flinch. He was surprised at the sudden startled look that +shot into her eyes, the swift ebbing of the colour from her cheeks. He drew +away his hand at the strange change in her. He noticed how quickly she was +breathing—that the fingers of her white hands were clasped tensely.</p> + +<p>"You object," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not enough to keep you from using it," she replied in a low voice. "I owe +you a great deal." He noted, too, how quickly she had recovered herself. +Her head was a little higher. She looked toward the tents. "You were not +mistaken," she added. "I smell new-made bread!"</p> + +<p>"And I shall emphasize the first half of it—<i>Lady</i>gray," said John Aldous, +as if speaking to himself. "That diminutizes it, you might say—gives it +the touch of sentiment I want. You can imagine a lover saying 'Dear little +<i>Lady</i>gray, are you warm and comfy?' He wouldn't say Ladygray as if she +wore a coronet, would he?"</p> + +<p>"Smell-o'-bread—fresh bread!" sniffed Joanne Gray, as if she had not heard +him. "It's making me hungry. Will you please hurry me to it, John Aldous?"</p> + +<p>They were approaching the first of the three tent-houses, over which was a +crudely painted sign which read "Otto Brothers, Guides and Outfitters." It +was a large, square tent, with weather-faded red and blue stripes, and from +it came the cheerful sound of a woman's laughter. Half a dozen +trampish-looking Airedale terriers roused themselves languidly as they drew +nearer. One of them stood up and snarled.</p> + +<p>"They won't hurt you," assured Aldous. "They belong to Jack Bruce and +Clossen Otto—the finest bunch of grizzly dogs in the Rockies." Another +moment, and a woman had appeared in the door. "And that is Mrs. Jack Otto," +he added under his breath. "If all women were like her I wouldn't have +written the things you have read!"</p> + +<p>He might have added that she was Scotch. But this was not necessary. The +laughter was still in her good-humoured face. Aldous looked at his +companion, and he found her smiling back. The eyes of the two women had +already met.</p> + +<p>Briefly Aldous explained what had happened at Quade's, and that the young +woman was leaving on the Tête Jaune train. The good-humoured smile left +Mrs. Otto's face when he mentioned Quade.</p> + +<p>"I've told Jack I'd like to poison that man some day," she cried. "You poor +dear, come in, I'll get you a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"Which always means dinner in the Otto camp," added Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so hungry, but I'm tired—so tired," he heard the girl say as she +went in with Mrs. Otto, and there was a new and strangely pathetic note in +her voice. "I want to rest—until the train goes."</p> + +<p>He followed them in, and stood for a moment near the door.</p> + +<p>"There's a room in there, my dear," said the woman, drawing back a curtain. +"Make yourself at home, and lie down on the bed until I have the tea +ready."</p> + +<p>When the curtain had closed behind her, John Aldous spoke in a low voice to +the woman.</p> + +<p>"Will you see her safely to the train, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "It leaves at +a quarter after two. I must be going."</p> + +<p>He felt that he had sufficiently performed his duty. He left the tent, and +paused for a moment outside to touzle affectionately the trampish heads of +the bear dogs. Then he turned away, whistling. He had gone a dozen steps +when a low voice stopped him. He turned. Joanne had come from the door.</p> + +<p>For one moment he stared as if something more wonderful than anything he +had ever seen had risen before him. The girl was bareheaded, and she stood +in a sun mellowed by a film of cloud. Her head was piled with lustrous +coils of gold-brown hair that her hat and veil had hidden. Never had he +looked upon such wonderful hair, crushed and crumpled back from her smooth +forehead; nor such marvellous whiteness of skin and pure blue depths of +eyes! In her he saw now everything that was strong and splendid in woman. +She was not girlishly sweet. She was not a girl. She was a woman—glorious +to look at, a soul glowing out of her eyes, a strength that thrilled him in +the quiet and beautiful mystery of her face.</p> + +<p>"You were going without saying good-bye," she said. "Won't you let me thank +you—a last time?"</p> + +<p>Her voice brought him to himself again. A moment he bent over her hand. A +moment he felt its warm, firm pressure in his own. The smile that flashed +to his lips was hidden from her as he bowed his blond-gray head.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for the omission," he apologized. "Good-bye—and may good luck +go with you!"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met once more. With another bow he had turned, and was +continuing his way. At the door Joanne Gray looked back. He was whistling +again. His careless, easy stride was filled with a freedom that seemed to +come to her in the breath of the mountains. And then she, too, smiled +strangely as she reëntered the tent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_III"></a><h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> + +<p>If John Aldous had betrayed no visible sign of inward vanquishment he at +least was feeling its effect. For years his writings had made him the +target for a world of women, and many men. The men he had regarded with +indifferent toleration. The women were his life—the "frail and ineffective +creatures" who gave spice to his great adventure, and made his days +anything but monotonous. He was not unchivalrous. Deep down in his +heart—and this was his own secret—he did not even despise women. But he +had seen their weaknesses and their frailties as perhaps no other man had +ever seen them, and he had written of them as no other man had ever +written. This had brought him the condemnation of the host, the admiration +of the few. His own personal veneer of antagonism against woman was purely +artificial, and yet only a few had guessed it. He had built it up about him +as a sort of protection. He called himself "an adventurer in the mysteries +of feminism," and to be this successfully he had argued that he must +destroy in himself the usual heart-emotions of the sex-man and the animal.</p> + +<p>How far he had succeeded in this he himself did not know—until these last +moments when he had bid good-bye to Joanne Gray. He confessed that she had +found a cleft in his armour, and there was an uneasy thrill in his blood. +It was not her beauty alone that had affected him. He had trained himself +to look at a beautiful woman as he might have looked at a beautiful flower, +confident that if he went beyond the mere admiration of it he would find +only burned-out ashes. But in her he had seen something that was more than +beauty, something that for a flashing moment had set stirring every +molecule in his being. He had felt the desire to rest his hand upon her +shining hair!</p> + +<p>He turned off into a winding path that led into the thick poplars, +restraining an inclination to look back in the direction of the Otto camp. +He pulled out the pipe he had dropped into his shirt pocket, filled it with +fresh tobacco, and began smoking. As he smoked, his lips wore a quizzical +smile, for he was honest enough to give Joanne Gray credit for her triumph. +She had awakened a new kind of interest in him—only a passing interest, to +be sure—but a new kind for all that. The fact amused him. In a large way +he was a humourist—few guessing it, and he fully appreciated the humour of +the present situation—that he, John Aldous, touted the world over as a +woman-hater, wanted to peer out through the poplar foliage and see that +wonderful gold-brown head shining in the sun once more!</p> + +<p>He wandered more slowly on his way, wondering with fresh interest what his +friends, the women, would say when they read his new book. His title for it +was "Mothers." It was to be a tremendous surprise.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his face became serious. He faced the sound of a distant +phonograph. It was not the phonograph in Quade's place, but that of a rival +dealer in soft drinks at the end of the "street." For a moment Aldous +hesitated. Then he turned in the direction of the camp.</p> + +<p>Quade was bolstered up on a stool, his back against the thin partition, +when John Aldous sauntered in. There was still a groggy look in his mottled +face. His thick bulk hung a bit limply. In his heavy-lidded eyes, +under-hung by watery pouches of sin and dissipation, there was a vengeful +and beastlike glare. He was surrounded by his friends. One of them was +taking a wet cloth from his head. There were a dozen in the canvas-walled +room, all with their backs to the door, their eyes upon their fallen and +dishonoured chief. For a moment John Aldous paused in the door. The cool +and insolent smile hovered about his lips again, and little crinkles had +gathered at the corners of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Did I hit you pretty hard, Bill?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Every head was turned toward him. Bill Quade stared, his mouth open. He +staggered to his feet, and stood dizzily.</p> + +<p>"You—damn you!" he cried huskily.</p> + +<p>Three or four of the men had already begun to move toward the stranger. +Their hands were knotted, their faces murderously dark.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, boys," warned Aldous coolly. "I've got something to say to +you—and Bill. Then eat me alive if you want to. Do you want to be square +enough to give me a word?"</p> + +<p>Quade had settled back sickly on his stool. The others had stopped, +waiting. The quiet and insolently confident smile had not left Aldous' +lips.</p> + +<p>"You'll feel better in a few minutes, Bill," he consoled. "A hard blow on +the jaw always makes you sick at the pit of the stomach. That dizziness +will pass away shortly. Meanwhile, I'm going to give you and your pals a +little verbal and visual demonstration of what you're up against, and warn +you to bait no traps for a certain young woman whom you've lately seen. +She's going on to Tête Jaune. And I know how your partner plays his game up +there. I'm not particularly anxious to butt into your affairs and the +business of this pretty bunch that's gathered about you, but I've come to +give you a friendly warning for all that. If this young woman is +embarrassed up at Tête Jaune you're going to settle with me."</p> + +<p>Aldous had spoken without a tremor of excitement in his voice. Not one of +the men noticed his speaking lips, his slim hands, or his careless posture +as he leaned in the door. They were looking straight into his eyes, +strangely scintillating and deadly earnest. In such a man mere bulk did not +count.</p> + +<p>"That much—for words," he went on. "Now I'm going to give you the visual +demonstration. I know your game, Bill. You're already planning what you're +going to do. You won't fight fair—because you never have. You've already +decided that some morning I'll turn up missing, or be dug out from under a +fall of rock, or go peacefully floating down the Athabasca. See! There's +nothing in that hand, is there?"</p> + +<p>He stretched out an empty hand toward them, palm up.</p> + +<p>"And now!"</p> + +<p>A twist of the wrist so swift their eyes could not follow, a metallic +click, and the startled group were staring into the black muzzle of a +menacing little automatic.</p> + +<p>"That's known as the sleeve trick, boys," explained Aldous with his +imperturbable smile. "It's a relic of the old gun-fighting days when the +best man was quickest. From now on, especially at night, I shall carry this +little friend of mine just inside my wristband. There are eleven shots in +it, and I shoot fairly straight. Good-day!"</p> + +<p>Before they had recovered from their astonishment he was gone.</p> + +<p>He did not follow the road along which Joanne had come a short time before, +but turned again into the winding trail that led riverward through the +poplars. Where before he had been a little amused at himself, he was now +more seriously disgusted. He was not afraid of Quade, who was perhaps the +most dangerous man along the line of rail. Neither was he afraid of the +lawless men who worked his ends. But he knew that he had made powerful +enemies, and all because of an unknown woman whom he had never seen until +half an hour before. It was this that disturbed his equanimity—the <i>woman</i> +of it, and the knowledge that his interference had been unsolicited and +probably unnecessary. And now that he had gone this far he found it not +easy to recover his balance. Who was this Joanne Gray? he asked himself. +She was not ordinary—like the hundred other women who had gone on ahead of +her to Tête Jaune Cache. If she had been that, he would soon have been in +his little shack on the shore of the river, hard at work. He had planned +work for himself that afternoon, and he was nettled to discover that his +enthusiasm for the grand finale of a certain situation in his novel was +gone. Yet for this he did not blame her. He was the fool. Quade and his +friends would make him feel that sooner or later.</p> + +<p>His trail led him to a partly dry muskeg bottom. Beyond this was a thicker +growth of timber, mostly spruce and cedar, from behind which came the +rushing sound of water. A few moments more and he stood with the wide +tumult of the Athabasca at his feet. He had chosen this spot for his little +cabin because the river ran wild here among the rocks, and because +pack-outfits going into the southward mountains could not disturb him by +fording at this point. Across the river rose the steep embankments that +shut in Buffalo Prairie, and still beyond that the mountains, thick with +timber rising billow on billow until trees looked like twigs, with gray +rock and glistening snow shouldering the clouds above the last purple line. +The cabin in which he had lived and worked for many weeks faced the river +and the distant Saw Tooth Range, and was partly hidden in a clump of +jack-pines. He opened the door and entered. Through the window to the south +and west he could see the white face of Mount Geikie, and forty miles away +in that wilderness of peaks, the sombre frown of Hardesty; through it the +sun came now, flooding his work as he had left it. The last page of +manuscript on which he had been working was in his typewriter. He sat down +to begin where he had left off in that pivotal situation in his +masterpiece.</p> + +<p>He read and re-read the last two or three pages of the manuscript, +struggling to pick up the threads where he had dropped them. With each +reading he became more convinced that his work for that afternoon was +spoiled. And by whom? By <i>what?</i> A little fiercely he packed his pipe with +fresh tobacco. Then he leaned back, lighted it, and laughed. More and more +as the minutes passed he permitted himself to think of the strange young +woman whose beauty and personality had literally projected themselves into +his workshop. He marvelled at the crudity of the questions which he asked +himself, and yet he persisted in asking them. Who was she? What could be +her mission at Tête Jaune Cache? She had repeated to him what she had said +to the girl in the coach—that at Tête Jaune she had no friends. Beyond +that, and her name, she had offered no enlightenment.</p> + +<p>In the brief space that he had been with her he had mentally tabulated her +age as twenty-eight—no older. Her beauty alone, the purity of her eyes, +the freshness of her lips, and the slender girlishness of her figure, might +have made him say twenty, but with those things he had found the maturer +poise of the woman. It had been a flashlight picture, but one that he was +sure of.</p> + +<p>Several times during the next hour he turned to his work, and at last gave +up his efforts entirely. From a peg in the wall he took down a little +rifle. He had found it convenient to do much of his own cooking, and he had +broken a few laws. The partridges were out of season, but temptingly fat +and tender. With a brace of young broilers in mind for supper, he left the +cabin and followed the narrow foot-trail up the river. He hunted for half +an hour before he stirred a covey of birds. Two of these he shot. +Concealing his meat and his gun near the trail he continued toward the ford +half a mile farther up, wondering if Stevens, who was due to cross that +day, had got his outfit over. Not until then did he look at his watch. He +was surprised to find that the Tête Jaune train had been gone three +quarters of an hour. For some unaccountable reason he felt easier. He went +on, whistling.</p> + +<p>At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting +one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation.</p> + +<p>"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up. "You never can tell what +it's going to do overnight. Look there! Would you try to cross?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," replied Aldous. "It's a foot higher than yesterday. I +wouldn't take the chance."</p> + +<p>"Not with two guides, a cook, and a horse-wrangler on your pay-roll—and a +hospital bill as big as Geikie staring you in the face?" argued Stevens, +who had been sick for three months. "I guess you'd pretty near take a +chance. I've a notion to."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," repeated Aldous.</p> + +<p>"But I've lost two days already, and I'm taking that bunch of sightseers +out for a lump sum, guaranteeing 'em so many days on the trail. This ain't +what you might call <i>on the trail</i>. They don't expect to pay for this +delay, and that outfit back in the bush is costing me thirty dollars a day. +We can get the dunnage and ourselves over in the flat-boat. It'll make our +arms crack—but we can do it. I've got twenty-seven horses. I've a notion +to chase 'em in. The river won't be any lower to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But you may be a few horses ahead."</p> + +<p>Stevens bit off a chunk of tobacco and sat down. For a few moments he +looked at the muddy flood with an ugly eye. Then he chuckled, and grinned.</p> + +<p>"Came through the camp half an hour ago," he said. "Hear you cleaned up on +Bill Quade."</p> + +<p>"A bit," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>Stevens rolled his quid and spat into the water slushing at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Guess I saw the woman when she got off the train," he went on. "She +dropped something. I picked it up, but she was so darned pretty as she +stood there looking about I didn't dare go up an' give it to her. If it had +been worth anything I'd screwed up my courage. But it wasn't—so I just +gawped like the others. It was a piece of paper. Mebby you'd like it as a +souvenir, seein' as you laid out Quade for her."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Stevens fished a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and +gave it to his companion. Aldous had sat down beside him. He smoothed the +page out on his knee. There was no writing on it, but it was crowded thick +with figures, as if the maker of the numerals had been doing some problem +in mathematics. The chief thing that interested him was that wherever +monetary symbols were used it was the "pound" and not the "dollar" sign. +The totals of certain columns were rather startling.</p> + +<p>"Guess she's a millionaire if that's her own money she's been figgering," +said Stevens. "Notice that figger there!" He pointed with a stubby +forefinger. "Pretty near a billion, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of the "pound" sign. She had not looked like the +Englishwomen he had met. He folded the slip of paper and put it in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>Stevens eyed him seriously.</p> + +<p>"I was coming over to give you a bit of advice before I left for the +Maligne Lake country," he said. "You'd better move. Quade won't want you +around after this. Besides——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"My kid heard something," continued the packer, edging nearer. "You was +mighty good to the kid when I was down an' out, Aldous. I ought to tell +you. It wasn't an hour ago the kid was behind the tent an' he heard Quade +and Slim Barker talking. So far as I can find from the kid, Quade has gone +nutty over her. He's ravin'. He told Slim that he'd give ten thousand +dollars to get her in his hands. What sent the boy down to me was Quade +tellin' Slim that he'd get <i>you</i> first. He told Slim to go on to Tête +Jaune—follow the girl!"</p> + +<p>"The deuce you say!" cried Aldous, clutching the other's arm suddenly. +"He's done that?"</p> + +<p>"That's what the kid says."</p> + +<p>Aldous rose to his feet slowly. The careless smile was playing about his +mouth again. A few men had learned that in those moments John Aldous was +dangerous.</p> + +<p>"The kid is undoubtedly right," he said, looking down at Stevens. "But I am +quite sure the young woman is capable of taking care of herself. Quade has +a tremendous amount of nerve, setting Slim to follow her, hasn't he? Slim +may run up against a husband or a brother."</p> + +<p>Stevens haunched his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It's not the woman I'm thinking about. It's you. I'd sure change my +location."</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't it be just as well if I told the police of his threat?" asked +Aldous, looking across the river with a glimmer of humour in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell!" was the packer's rejoinder.</p> + +<p>Slowly he unwound his long legs and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Take my advice—move!" he said. "As for me, I'm going to cross that cussed +river this afternoon or know the reason why."</p> + +<p>He stalked away in the direction of his outfit, chewing viciously at his +quid. For a few moments Aldous stood undecided. He would liked to have +joined the half-dozen men he saw lounging restfully a distance beyond the +grazing ponies. But Stevens had made him acutely aware of a new danger. He +was thinking of his cabin—and the priceless achievement of his last months +of work, his manuscript. If Quade should destroy that——</p> + +<p>He clenched his hands and walked swiftly toward his camp. To "burn out" an +enemy was one of Quade's favourite methods of retaliation. He had heard +this. He also knew that Quade's work was done so cleverly that the police +had been unable to call him to account.</p> + +<p>Quade's status had interested Aldous from the beginning. He had discovered +that Quade and Culver Rann, his partner at Tête Jaune, were forces to be +reckoned with even by the "powers" along the line of rail. They were the +two chiefs of the "underground," the men who controlled the most dangerous +element from Miette to Fort George. He had once seen Culver Rann, a quiet, +keen-eyed, immaculately groomed man of forty—the cleverest scoundrel that +had ever drifted into the Canadian west. He had been told that Rann was +really the brain of the combination, and that the two had picked up a +quarter of a million in various ways. But it was Quade with whom he had to +deal now, and he began to thank Stevens for his warning. He was filled with +a sense of relief when he reached his cabin and found it as he had left +it. He always made a carbon copy of his work. This copy he now put into a +waterproof tin box, and the box he concealed under a log a short distance +back in the bush.</p> + +<p>"Now go ahead, Quade," he laughed to himself, a curious, almost exultant +ring in his voice. "I haven't had any real excitement for so long I can't +remember, and if you start the fun there's going to <i>be</i> fun!"</p> + +<p>He returned to his birds, perched himself behind a bush at the river's +edge, and began skinning them. He had almost finished when he heard hoarse +shouts from up the river. From his position he could see the stream a +hundred yards below the ford. Stevens had driven in his horses. He could +see them breasting the first sweep of the current, their heads held high, +struggling for the opposite shore. He rose, dropped his birds, and stared.</p> + +<p>"Good God, what a fool!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>He saw the tragedy almost before it had begun. Still three hundred yards +below the swimming horses was the gravelly bar which they must reach on the +opposite side. He noted the grayish strip of smooth water that marked the +end of the dead-line. Three or four of the stronger animals were forging +steadily toward this. The others grouped close together, almost motionless +in their last tremendous fight, were left farther and farther behind. Then +came the break. A mare and her yearling colt had gone in with the bunch. +Aldous saw the colt, with its small head and shoulders high out of the +water, sweep down like a chip with the current. A cold chill ran through +him as he heard the whinneying scream of the mother—a warning cry that +held for him the pathos and the despair of a creature that was human. He +knew what it meant. "Wait—I'm coming—I'm coming!" was in that cry. He saw +the mare give up and follow resistlessly with the deadly current, her eyes +upon her colt. The heads behind her wavered, then turned, and in another +moment the herd was sweeping down to its destruction.</p> + +<p>Aldous felt like turning his head. But the spectacle fascinated him, and he +looked. He did not think of Stevens and his loss as the first of the herd +plunged in among the rocks. He stood with white face and clenched hands, +leaning over the water boiling at his feet, cursing softly in his +helplessness. To him came the last terrible cries of the perishing animals. +He saw head after head go under. Out of the white spume of a great rock +against which the flood split itself with the force of an avalanche he saw +one horse pitched bodily, as if thrown from a huge catapault. The last +animal had disappeared when chance turned his eyes upstream and close in to +shore. Here flowed a steady current free of rock, and down this—head and +shoulders still high out of the water—came the colt! What miracle had +saved the little fellow thus far Aldous did not stop to ask. Fifty yards +below it would meet the fate of the others. Half that distance in the +direction of the maelstrom below was the dead trunk of a fallen spruce +overhanging the water for fifteen or twenty feet. In a flash Aldous was +racing toward it. He climbed out on it, leaned far over, and reached down. +His hand touched the water. In the grim excitement of rescue he forgot his +own peril. There was one chance in twenty that the colt would come within +his reach, and it did. He made a single lunge and caught it by the ear. For +a moment after that his heart turned sick. Under the added strain the dead +spruce sagged down with a warning crack. But it held, and Aldous hung to +his grip on the ear. Foot by foot he wormed his way back, until at last he +had dragged the little animal ashore.</p> + +<p>And then a voice spoke behind him, a voice that he would have recognized +among ten thousand, low, sweet, thrilling.</p> + +<p>"That was splendid, John Aldous!" it said. "If I were a man I would want to +be a man like you!"</p> + +<p>He turned. A few steps from him stood Joanne Gray. Her face was as white as +the bit of lace at her throat. Her lips were colourless, and her bosom rose +and fell swiftly. He knew that she, too, had witnessed the tragedy. And the +eyes that looked at him were glorious.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a><h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> + +<p>To John Aldous Joanne's appearance at this moment was like an anti-climax. +It plunged him headlong for a single moment into what he believed to be the +absurdity of a situation. He had a quick mental picture of himself out on +the dead spruce, performing a bit of mock-heroism by dragging in a +half-drowned colt by one ear. In another instant this had passed, and he +was wondering why Joanne Gray was not on her way to Tête Jaune.</p> + +<p>"It was splendid!" she was saying again, her eyes glowing at him. "I know +men who would not have risked that for a human!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they would have been showing good judgment," replied Aldous.</p> + +<p>He noticed now that she was holding with one hand the end of a long slender +sapling which a week or two before he had cut and trimmed for a fish-pole. +He nodded toward it, a half-cynical smile on his lips.</p> + +<p>"Were you going to fish me out—or the colt?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You," she replied. "I thought you were in danger." And then she added, "I +suppose you are deeply grateful that fate did not compel you to be saved by +a woman."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. If the spruce had snapped, I would have caught at the end of +your sapling like any drowning rat—or man. Allow me to thank you."</p> + +<p>She had stepped down to the level strip of sand on which the colt was +weakly struggling to rise to its feet. She was breathing quickly. Her face +was still pale. She was without a hat, and as she bent for a moment over +the colt Aldous felt his eyes drawn irresistibly to the soft thick coils of +her hair, a glory of colour that made him think of the lustrous brown of a +ripe wintelberry. She looked up suddenly and caught his eyes upon her.</p> + +<p>"I came quite by accident," she explained quickly. "I wanted to be alone, +and Mrs. Otto said this path would lead to the river. When I saw you I was +about to turn back. And then I saw the other—the horses coming down the +stream. It was terrible. Are they all drowned?"</p> + +<p>"All that you saw. It wasn't a pretty sight, was it?" There was a +suggestive inquiry in his voice as he added, "If you had gone to Tête Jaune +you would have missed the unpleasantness of the spectacle."</p> + +<p>"I would have gone, but something happened. They say it was a cave-in, a +slide—something like that. The train cannot go on until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And you are to stay with the Ottos?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash she had seemed to read his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she added, before he could speak. "I can see that I have +annoyed you. I have literally projected myself into your work, and I am +afraid that I have caused you trouble. Mrs. Otto has told me of this man +they call Quade. She says he is dangerous. And I have made him your enemy."</p> + +<p>"I am, not afraid of Quade. The incident was nothing more than an agreeable +interruption to what was becoming a rather monotonous existence up here. I +have always believed, you know, that a certain amount of physical +excitement is good oil for our mental machinery. That, perhaps, was why you +caught me hauling at His Coltship's ear."</p> + +<p>He had spoken stiffly. There was a hard note in his voice, a suggestion of +something that was displeasing in his forced laugh. He knew that in these +moments he was fighting against his inner self—against his desire to tell +her how glad he was that something had held back the Tête Jaune train, and +how wonderful her hair looked in the afternoon sun. He was struggling to +keep himself behind the barriers he had built up and so long maintained in +his writings. And yet, as he looked, he felt something crumbling into +ruins. He knew that he had hurt her. The hardness of his words, the +coldness of his smile, his apparently utter indifference to her had sent +something that was almost like a quick, physical pain into her eyes. He +drew a step nearer, so that he caught the soft contour of her cheek. Joanne +Gray heard him, and lowered her head slightly, so that he could not see. +She was a moment too late. On her cheek Aldous saw a single creeping +drop—a tear.</p> + +<p>In an instant he was at her side. With a quick movement she brushed the +tear away before she faced him.</p> + +<p>"I've hurt you," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I've hurt you, +and God knows I'm a brute for doing it. I've treated you as badly as +Quade—only in a different way. I know how I've made you feel—that you've +been a nuisance, and have got me into trouble, and that I don't want to +have anything more to do with you. Have I made you feel that?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid—you have."</p> + +<p>He reached out a hand, and almost involuntarily her own came to it. She saw +the change in his face, regret, pain, and then that slow-coming, wonderful +laughter in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's just how I set out to make you feel," he confessed, the warmth of +her hand sending a thrill through him. "I might as well be frank, don't you +think? Until you came I had but one desire, and that was to finish my book. +I had planned great work for to-day. And you spoiled it. I couldn't get you +out of my mind. And it made me—ugly."</p> + +<p>"And that was—all?" she whispered, a tense waiting in her eyes. "You +didn't think——"</p> + +<p>"What Quade thought," he bit in sharply. The grip of his fingers hurt her +hand. "No, not that. My God, I didn't make you think <i>that?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I'm a stranger—and they say women don't go to Tête Jaune alone," she +answered doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"That's true, they don't—not as a general rule. Especially women like you. +You're alone, a stranger, and too beautiful. I don't say that to flatter +you. You are beautiful, and you undoubtedly know it. To let you go on alone +and unprotected among three or four thousand men like most of those up +there would be a crime. And the women, too—the Little Sisters. They'd +blast you. If you had a husband, a brother or a father waiting for you it +would be different. But you've told me you haven't. You have made me change +my mind about my book. You are of more interest to me just now than that. +Will you believe me? Will you let me be a friend, if you need a friend?"</p> + +<p>To Aldous it seemed that she drew herself up a little proudly. For a moment +she seemed taller. A rose-flush of colour spread over her cheeks. She drew +her hand from him. And yet, as she looked at him, he could see that she was +glad.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe you," she said. "But I must not accept your offer of +friendship. You have done more for me now than I can ever repay. Friendship +means service, and to serve me would spoil your plans, for you are in great +haste to complete your book."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that you need my assistance, the book can wait."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have said that," she cut in quickly, her lips tightening +slightly. "It was utterly absurd of me to hint that I might require +assistance—that I cannot take care of myself. But I shall be proud of the +friendship of John Aldous."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can take care of yourself, Ladygray," said Aldous softly, looking +into her eyes and yet speaking as if to himself. "That is why you have +broken so curiously into my life. It's <i>that</i>—and not your beauty. I have +known beautiful women before. But they were—just women, frail things that +might snap under stress. I have always thought there is only one woman in +ten thousand who would not do that—under certain conditions. I believe you +are that one in ten thousand. You can go on to Tête Jaune alone. You can go +anywhere alone—and care for yourself."</p> + +<p>He was looking at her so strangely that she held her breath, her lips +parted, the flush in her cheeks deepening.</p> + +<p>"And the strangest part of it all is that I have always known you away back +in my imagination," he went on. "You have lived there, and have troubled +me. I could not construct you perfectly. It is almost inconceivable that +you should have borne the same name—Joanne. Joanne, of 'Fair Play.'"</p> + +<p>She gave a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"Joanne was—terrible," she cried. "She was bad—bad to the heart and soul +of her!"</p> + +<p>"She was splendid," replied Aldous, without a change in his quiet voice. +"She was splendid—but bad. I racked myself to find a soul for her, and I +failed. And yet she was splendid. It was my crime—not hers—that she +lacked a soul. She would have been my ideal, but I spoiled her. And by +spoiling her I sold half a million copies of the book. I did not do it +purposely. I would have given her a soul if I could have found one. She +went her way."</p> + +<p>"And you compare me to—<i>her?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Aldous deliberately. "You are that Joanne. But you possess what +I could not give to her. Joanne of 'Fair Play' was splendid without a soul. +You have what she lacked. You may not understand, but you have come to +perfect what I only partly created."</p> + +<p>The colour had slowly ebbed from Joanne's face. There was a mysterious +darkness in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you were not John Aldous I would—strike you," she said. "As it +is—yes—I want you as a friend."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand. For a moment he felt its warmth again in his own. +He bowed over it. Her eyes rested steadily on his blond head, and again she +noted the sprinkle of premature gray in his hair. For a second time she +felt almost overwhelmingly the mysterious strength of this man. Perhaps +each took three breaths before John Aldous raised his head. In that time +something wonderful and complete passed between them. Neither could have +told the other what it was. When their eyes met again, it was in their +faces.</p> + +<p>"I have planned to have supper in my cabin to-night," said Aldous, breaking +the tension of that first moment. "Won't you be my guest, Ladygray?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Otto——" she began.</p> + +<p>"I will go to her at once and explain that you are going to eat partridges +with me," he interrupted. "Come—let me show you into my workshop and +home."</p> + +<p>He led her to the cabin and into its one big room.</p> + +<p>"You will make yourself at home while I am gone, won't you?" he invited. +"If it will give you any pleasure you may peel a few potatoes. I won't be +gone ten minutes."</p> + +<p>Not waiting for any protest she might have, Aldous slipped back through the +door and took the path up to the Ottos'.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_V"></a><h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> + +<p>As soon as he had passed from the view of the cabin door Aldous shortened +his pace. He knew that never in his life had he needed to readjust himself +more than at the present moment. A quarter of an hour had seen a complete +and miraculous revolution within him. It was a change so unusual and +apparently so impossible that he could not grasp the situation and the fact +all at once. But the truth of it swept over him more and more swiftly as he +made his way along the dark, narrow trail that led up to the Miette Plain. +It was something that not only amazed and thrilled him. First—as in all +things—he saw the humour of it. He, John Aldous of all men, had utterly +obliterated himself, and for a <i>woman</i>. He had even gone so far as to offer +the sacrifice of his most important work. Frankly he had told Joanne that +she interested him more just now than his book. Again he repeated to +himself that it had not been a surrender—but an obliteration. With a pair +of lovely eyes looking quietly into him, he had wiped the slate clean of +the things he had preached for ten years and the laws he had made for +himself. And as he came in sight of the big Otto tent, he found himself +smiling, his breath coming quickly, strange voices singing within him.</p> + +<p>He stopped to load and light his pipe before he faced Mrs. Otto, and he +clouded himself in as much smoke as possible while he explained to her +that he had almost forced Joanne to stop at his cabin and eat partridges +with him. He learned that the Tête Jaune train could not go on until the +next day, and after Mrs. Otto had made him take a loaf of fresh bread and a +can of home-made marmalade as a contribution to their feast, he turned back +toward the cabin, trying to whistle in his old careless way.</p> + +<p>The questions he had first asked himself about Joanne forced themselves +back upon him now with deeper import. Almost unconsciously he had revealed +himself to her. He had spread open for her eyes and understanding the page +which he had so long hidden. He had as much as confessed to her that she +had come to change him—to complete what he had only half created. It had +been an almost inconceivable and daring confession, and he believed that +she understood him. More than that, she had read about him. She had read +his books. She knew John Aldous—the man.</p> + +<p>But what did he know about her beyond the fact that her name was Joanne +Gray, and that the on-sweeping Horde had brought her into his life as +mysteriously as a storm might have flung him a bit of down from a swan's +breast? Where had she come from? And why was she going to Tête Jaune? It +must be some important motive was taking her to a place like Tête Jaune, +the rail-end, a place of several thousand men, with its crude muscle and +brawn and the seven passions of man. It was an impossible place for a young +and beautiful woman unprotected. If Joanne had known any one among the +engineers or contractors, or had she possessed a letter of introduction to +them, the tense lines would not have gathered so deeply about the corners +of Aldous' mouth. But these men whose brains were behind the Horde—the +engineers and the contractors—knew what women alone and unprotected meant +at Tête Jaune. Such women floated in with the Horde. And Joanne was going +in with the Horde. There lay the peril—and the mystery of it.</p> + +<p>So engrossed was Aldous in his thoughts that he had come very quietly to +the cabin door. It was Joanne's voice that roused him. Sweet and low she +was singing a few lines from a song which he had never heard.</p> + +<p>She stopped when Aldous appeared at the door. It seemed to him that her +eyes were a deeper, more wonderful blue as she looked up at him, and +smiled. She had found a towel for an apron, and was peeling potatoes.</p> + +<p>"You will have some unusual excuses to make very soon," she greeted him. +"We had a visitor while you were gone. I was washing the potatoes when I +looked up to find a pair of the fiercest, reddest moustaches I have ever +seen, ornamenting the doorway. The man had two eyes that seemed about to +fall out when he saw me. He popped away like a rabbit—and—and—there's +something he left behind in his haste!"</p> + +<p>Joanne's eyes were flooded with laughter as she nodded at the door. On the +sill was a huge quid of tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Stevens!" Aldous chuckled. "God bless my soul, if you frightened him into +giving up a quid of tobacco like that you sure <i>did</i> startle him some!" He +kicked Stevens' lost property out with the toe of his boot and turned to +Joanne, showing her the fresh bread and marmalade. "Mrs. Otto sent these to +you," he said. "And the train won't leave until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>In her silence he pulled a chair in front of her, sat down close, and +thrust the point of his hunting knife into one of the two remaining +potatoes.</p> + +<p>"And when it does go I'm going with you," he added.</p> + +<p>He expected this announcement would have some effect on her. As she jumped +up with the pan of potatoes, leaving the one still speared on the end of +his knife, he caught only the corner of a bewitching smile.</p> + +<p>"You still believe that I will be unable to take care of myself up at this +terrible Tête Jaune?" she asked, bending for a moment over the table. "Do +you?"</p> + +<p>"No. You can care for yourself anywhere, Ladygray," he repeated. "But I am +quite sure that it will be less troublesome for me to see that no insults +are offered you than for you to resent those insults when they come. Tête +Jaune is full of Quades," he added.</p> + +<p>The smile was gone from her face when she turned to him. Her blue eyes were +filled with a tense anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I had almost forgotten that man," she whispered. "And you mean that you +would fight for me—again?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand times."</p> + +<p>The colour grew deeper in her cheeks. "I read something about you once that +I have never forgotten, John Aldous," she said. "It was after you returned +from Thibet. It said that you were largely made up of two emotions—your +contempt for woman and your love of adventure; that it would be impossible +for you not to see a flaw in one, and that for the other—physical +excitement—you would go to the ends of the earth. Perhaps it is this—your +desire for adventure—that makes you want to go with me to Tête Jaune?"</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to believe that it will be the greatest adventure of my +life," he replied, and something in his quiet voice held her silent. He +rose to his feet, and stood before her. "It is already the Great +Adventure," he went on. "I feel it. And I am the one to judge. Until to-day +I would have staked my life that no power could have wrung from me the +confession I am going to make to you voluntarily. I have laughed at the +opinion the world has held of me. To me it has all been a colossal joke. I +have enjoyed the hundreds of columns aimed at me by excited women through +the press. They have all asked the same question: Why do you not write of +the good things in women instead of always the bad? I have never given them +an answer. But I answer you now—here. I have not picked upon the +weaknesses of women because I despise them. Those weaknesses—the +destroying frailties of womankind—I have driven over rough-shod through +the pages of my books because I have always believed that Woman was the one +thing which God came nearest to creating <i>perfect</i>. I believe they should +be perfect. And because they have not quite that perfection which should be +theirs I have driven the cold facts home as hard as I could. I have been a +fool and an iconoclast instead of a builder. This confession to you is +proof that you have brought me face to face with the greatest adventure of +all."</p> + +<p>The colour in her cheeks had centred in two bright spots. Her lips formed +words which came slowly, strangely.</p> + +<p>"I guess—I understand," she said. "Perhaps I, too, would have been that +kind of an iconoclast—if I could have put the things I have thought into +written words." She drew a deep breath, and went on, her eyes full upon +him, speaking as if out of a dream. "The Great Adventure—for you. Yes; and +perhaps for both."</p> + +<p>Her hands were drawn tightly to her breast. Something about her as she +stood there, her back to the table, drew John Aldous to her side, forced +the question from his lips: "Tell me, Ladygray—why are you going to Tête +Jaune?"</p> + +<p>In that same strange way, as if her lips were framing words beyond their +power to control, she answered:</p> + +<p>"I am going—to find—my husband."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a><h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> + +<p>Silent, his head bowed a little, John Aldous stood before her after those +last words. A slight noise outside gave him the pretext to turn to the +door. She was going to Tête Jaune—to find her husband! He had not expected +that. For a breath, as he looked out toward the bush, his mind was in a +strange daze. A dozen times she had given him to understand there was no +husband, father, or brother waiting for her at the rail-end. She had told +him that she was alone—without friends. And now, like a confession, those +words had come strangely from her lips.</p> + +<p>What he had heard was one of Otto's pack-horses coming down to drink. He +turned toward her again.</p> + +<p>Joanne stood with her back still to the table. She had slipped a hand into +the front of her dress and had drawn forth a long thick envelope. As she +opened it, Aldous saw that it contained banknotes. From among these she +picked out a bit of paper and offered it to him.</p> + +<p>"That will explain—partly," she said.</p> + +<p>It was a newspaper clipping, worn and faded, with a date two years old. It +had apparently been cut from an English paper, and told briefly of the +tragic death of Mortimer FitzHugh, son of a prominent Devonshire family, +who had lost his life while on a hunting trip in the British Columbia +Wilds.</p> + +<p>"He was my husband," said Joanne, as Aldous finished. "Until six months ago +I had no reason to believe that the statement in the paper was not true. +Then—an acquaintance came out here hunting. He returned with a strange +story. He declared that he had seen Mr. FitzHugh alive. Now you know why I +am here. I had not meant to tell you. It places me in a light which I do +not think that I can explain away—just now. I have come to prove or +disprove his death. If he is alive——"</p> + +<p>For the first time she betrayed the struggle she was making against some +powerful emotion which she was fighting to repress. Her face had paled. She +stopped herself with a quick breath, as if knowing that she had already +gone too far.</p> + +<p>"I guess I understand," said Aldous. "For some reason your anxiety is not +that you will find him dead, Ladygray, but that you may find him alive."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, that is it. But you must not urge me farther. It is a terrible +thing to say. You will think I am not a woman, but a fiend. And I am your +guest. You have invited me to supper. And—the potatoes are ready, and +there is no fire!"</p> + +<p>She had forced a smile back to her lips. John Aldous whirled toward the +door.</p> + +<p>"I will have the partridges in two seconds!" he cried. "I dropped them when +the horses went through the rapids."</p> + +<p>The oppressive and crushing effect of Joanne's first mention of a husband +was gone. He made no effort to explain or analyze the two sudden changes +that swept over him. He accepted them as facts, and that was all. Where a +few moments before there had been the leaden grip of something that seemed +to be physically choking him, there was now again the strange buoyancy with +which he had gone to the Otto tent. He began to whistle as he went to the +river's edge. He was whistling when he returned, the two birds in his hand. +Joanne was waiting for him in the door. Again her face was a faintly tinted +vision of tranquil loveliness; her eyes were again like the wonderful blue +pools over the sunlit mountains. She smiled as he came up. He was +amazed—not that she had recovered so completely from the emotional +excitement that had racked her, but because she betrayed in no way a sign +of grief—of suspense or of anxiety. A few minutes ago he had heard her +singing. He could almost believe that her lips might break into song again +as she stood there.</p> + +<p>From that moment until the sun sank behind the mountains and gray shadows +began to creep in where the light had been, there was no other reference to +the things that had happened or the things that had been said since +Joanne's arrival. For the first time in years John Aldous completely forgot +his work. He was lost in Joanne. With the tremendous reaction that was +working out in him she became more and more wonderful to him with each +breath that he drew. He made no effort to control the change that was +sweeping through him. His one effort was to keep it from being too apparent +to her.</p> + +<p>The way in which Joanne had taken his invitation was as delightful as it +was new to him. She had become both guest and hostess. With her lovely arms +bared halfway to the shoulders she rolled out a batch of biscuits. "Hot +biscuits go so well with marmalade," she told him. He built a fire. Beyond +that, and bringing in the water, she gave him to understand that his duties +were at an end, and that he could smoke while she prepared the supper. With +the beginning of dusk he closed the cabin door that he might have an excuse +for lighting the big hanging lamp a little earlier. He had imagined how its +warm glow would flood down upon the thick soft coils of her shining hair.</p> + +<p>Every fibre in him throbbed with a keen and exquisite satisfaction as he +sat down opposite her. During the meal he looked into the quiet, velvety +blue of her eyes a hundred times. He found it a delightful sensation to +talk to her and look into those eyes at the same time. He told her more +about himself than he had ever told another soul. It was she who spoke +first of the manuscript upon which he was working. He had spoken of certain +adventures that had led up to the writing of one of his books.</p> + +<p>"And this last book you are writing, which you call 'Mothers,'" she said. +"Is it to be like 'Fair Play?'"</p> + +<p>"It was to have been the last of the trilogy. But it won't be now, +Ladygray. I've changed my mind."</p> + +<p>"But it is so nearly finished, you say?"</p> + +<p>"I would have completed it this week. I was rushing it to an end at fever +heat when—you came."</p> + +<p>He saw the troubled look in her eyes, and hastened to add:</p> + +<p>"Let us not talk about that manuscript, Ladygray. Some day I will let you +read it, and then you will understand why your coming has not hurt it. At +first I was unreasonably disturbed because I thought that I must finish it +within a week from to-day. I start out on a new adventure then—a strange +adventure, into the North."</p> + +<p>"That means—the wild country?" she asked. "Up there in the North—there +are no people?"</p> + +<p>"An occasional Indian, perhaps a prospector now and then," he said. "Last +year I travelled a hundred and twenty-seven days without seeing a human +face except that of my Cree companion."</p> + +<p>She had leaned a little over the table, and was looking at him intently, +her eyes shining.</p> + +<p>"That is why I have understood you, and read between the printed lines in +your books," she said. "If I had been a man, I would have been a great deal +like you. I love those things—loneliness, emptiness, the great spaces +where you hear only the whisperings of the winds and the fall of no other +feet but your own. Oh, I should have been a man! It was born in me. It was +a part of me. And I loved it—loved it."</p> + +<p>A poignant grief had shot into her eyes. Her voice broke almost in a sob. +Amazed, he looked at her in silence across the table.</p> + +<p>"You have lived that life, Ladygray?" he said after a moment. "You have +seen it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she nodded, clasping and unclasping her slim white hands. "For years +and years, perhaps even more than you, John Aldous! I was born in it. And +it was my life for a long time—until my father died." She paused, and he +saw her struggling to subdue the quivering throb in her throat. "We were +inseparable," she went on, her voice becoming suddenly strange and quiet. +"He was father, mother—everything to me. It was too wonderful. Together +we hunted out the mysteries and the strange things in the out-of-the-way +places of the earth. It was his passion. He had given birth to it in me. I +was always with him, everywhere. And then he died, soon after his discovery +of that wonderful buried city of Mindano, in the heart of Africa. Perhaps +you have read——"</p> + +<p>"Good God," breathed Aldous, so low that his voice did not rise above a +whisper. "Joanne—Ladygray—you are not speaking of Daniel Gray—Sir Daniel +Gray, the Egyptologist, the antiquarian who uncovered the secrets of an +ancient and wonderful civilization in the heart of darkest Africa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you—are his daughter?"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head.</p> + +<p>Like one in a dream John Aldous rose from his chair and went to her. He +seized her hands and drew her up so that they stood face to face. Again +that strange and beautiful calmness filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Our trails have strangely crossed, Lady Joanne," he said. "They have been +crossing—for years. While Sir Daniel was at Murja, on the eve of his great +discovery, I was at St. Louis on the Senegal coast. I slept in that little +Cape Verde hotel, in the low whitewashed room overlooking the sea. The +proprietor told me that Sir Daniel had occupied it before me, and I found a +broken fountain pen in the drawer of that sickly black teakwood desk, with +the carved serpent's head. And I was at Gampola at another time, headed for +the interior of Ceylon, when I learned that I was travelling again one of +Sir Daniel's trails. And you were with him!"</p> + +<p>"Always," said Joanne.</p> + +<p>For a few tense moments they had looked steadily into each other's eyes. +Swiftly, strangely, the world was bridging itself for them. Their minds +swept back swiftly as the fire in a thunder-sky. They were no longer +strangers. They were no longer friends of a day. The grip of Aldous' hands +tightened. A hundred things sprang to his lips. Before he could speak, he +saw a sudden, startled change leap into Joanne's face. She had turned her +face a little, so that she was looking toward the window. A frightened cry +broke from her lips. Aldous whirled about. There was nothing there. He +looked at Joanne again. She was white and trembling. Her hands were +clutched at her breast. Her eyes, big and dark and staring, were still +fixed on the window.</p> + +<p>"That man!" she panted. "His face was there—against the glass—like a +devil's!"</p> + +<p>"Quade?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She caught at his arm as he sprang toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she cried. "You mustn't go out——"</p> + +<p>For a moment he turned at the door. He was as she had seen him in Quade's +place, terribly cool, a strange, quiet smile on his lips. His eyes were +gray, smiling steel.</p> + +<p>"Close the door after me and lock it until I return," he said. "You are the +first woman guest I ever had, Ladygray. I cannot allow you to be insulted!"</p> + +<p>As he went out she saw him slip something from his pocket. She caught the +glitter of it in the lamp-glow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br> + +<p>It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade. He ran with the quickness +of a hare around the end of the cabin, past the window, and then stopped to +listen, his automatic in his hand, his eye piercing the gloom for some +moving shadow. He had not counted on an instant's hesitation. He would +shoot Quade, for he knew why the mottled beast had been at the window. +Stevens' boy had been right. Quade was after Joanne. His ugly soul was +disrupted with a desire to possess her, and Aldous knew that when roused by +passion he was more like a devil-fish than a man—a creeping, slimy, +night-seeking creature who had not only the power of the underworld back of +him, but wealth as well. He did not think of him as a man as he stood +listening, but as a beast. He was ready to shoot. But he saw nothing. He +heard no sound that could have been made by a stumbling foot or a moving +body. An hour later, the moon would have been up, but it was dark now +except for the stars. He heard the hoot of an owl a hundred yards away. Out +in the river something splashed. From the timber beyond Buffalo Prairie +came the yapping bark of a coyote. For five minutes he stood as silent as +one of the rocks behind him. He realized that to go on—to seek blindly for +Quade in the darkness, would be folly. He went back, tapped at the door, +and reëntered the cabin when Joanne threw back the lock.</p> + +<p>She was still pale. Her eyes were bright.</p> + +<p>"I was coming—in a moment," she said, "I was beginning to fear that——"</p> + +<p>"—he had struck me down in the dark?" added Aldous, as she hesitated. +"Well, he would like to do just that, Joanne." Unconsciously her name had +slipped from him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to +call her Joanne now. "Is it necessary for me to tell you what this man +Quade is—why he was looking through the window?"</p> + +<p>She shuddered.</p> + +<p>"No—no—I understand!"</p> + +<p>"Only partly," continued Aldous, his face white and set. "It is necessary +that you should know more than you have guessed, for your own protection. +If you were like most other women I would not tell you the truth, but would +try to shield you from it. As it is you should know. There is only one +other man in the Rocky Mountains more dangerous than Bill Quade. He is +Culver Rann, up at Tête Jaune. They are partners—partners in crime, in +sin, in everything that is bad and that brings them gold. Their influence +among the rougher elements along the line of rail is complete. They are so +strongly entrenched that they have put contractors out of business because +they would not submit to blackmail. The few harmless police we have +following the steel have been unable to touch them. They have cleaned up +hundreds of thousands, chiefly in three things—blackmail, whisky, and +women. Quade is the viler of the two. He is like a horrible beast. Culver +Rann makes me think of a sleek and shining serpent. But it is this man +Quade——"</p> + +<p>He found it almost impossible to go on with Joanne's blue eyes gazing so +steadily into his.</p> + +<p>"—whom we have made our enemy," she finished for him.</p> + +<p>"Yes—and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "You +cannot go on to Tête Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If you +do——"</p> + +<p>"What will happen?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I am +going to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on to +Tête Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to which +I can take you, and where you will be safe."</p> + +<p>As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table.</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said.</p> + +<p>He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through the +door. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness of +the spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand.</p> + +<p>"It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like the +shell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?"</p> + +<p>"No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and they +made me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them."</p> + +<p>He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as she +spoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, that +made her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand was +gripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert, +yet she could detect nothing of caution or preparedness in his careless +voice.</p> + +<p>"The bloodstones didn't trouble me," he answered. "I can't remember +anything that upset me more than the snakes. I am a terrible coward when it +comes to anything that crawls without feet. I will run from a snake no +longer than your little finger—in fact, I'm just as scared of a little +grass snake as I am of a python. It's the <i>thing</i>, and not its size, that +horrifies me. Once I jumped out of a boat into ten feet of water because my +companion caught an eel on his line, and persisted in the argument that it +was a fish. Thank Heaven we don't have snakes up here. I've seen only three +or four in all my experience in the Northland."</p> + +<p>She laughed softly in spite of the uneasy thrill the night held for her.</p> + +<p>"It is hard for me to imagine you being afraid," she said. "And yet if you +were afraid I know it would be of just some little thing like that. My +father was one of the bravest men in the world, and a hundred times I have +seen him show horror at sight of a spider. If you were afraid of snakes, +why did you go up the Gampola, in Ceylon?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know the snakes were there," he chuckled. "I hadn't dreamed there +were a half so many snakes in the whole world as there were along that +confounded river. I slept sitting up, dressed in rubber wading boots that +came to my waist, and wore thick leather gloves. I got out of the country +at the earliest possible moment."</p> + +<p>When they entered the edge of the Miette clearing and saw the glow of +lights ahead of them, Aldous caught the sudden upturn of his companion's +face, laughing at him in the starlight.</p> + +<p>"Kind, thoughtful John Aldous!" she whispered, as if to herself. "How nice +of you it was to talk of such pleasant things while we were coming through +that black, dreadful swamp—with a Bill Quade waiting for us on the side!"</p> + +<p>A low ripple of laughter broke from her lips, and he stopped dead in his +tracks, forgetting to put the automatic back in his pocket. At sight of it +the amusement died in her face. She caught his arm, and one of her hands +seized the cold steel of the pistol.</p> + +<p>"Would he—<i>dare?</i>" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"You can't tell," replied Aldous, putting the gun in his pocket. "And that +was a creepy sort of conversation to load you down with, wasn't it, +Ladygray? I imagine you'll catch me in all sorts of blunders like that." He +pointed ahead. "There's Mrs. Otto now. She's looking this way and wondering +with all her big heart if you ought not to be at home and in bed."</p> + +<p>The door of the Otto home was wide open, and silhouetted in the flood of +light was the good-natured Scotchwoman. Aldous gave the whistling signal +which she and her menfolk always recognized, and hurried on with Joanne.</p> + +<p>Before they had quite reached the tent-house, Joanne put a detaining hand +on his arm.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to go back to the cabin to-night," she said. "The face at +the window—was terrible. I am afraid. I don't want you to be there alone."</p> + +<p>Her words sent a warm glow through him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Quade will not come back."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to return to the cabin," she persisted. "Is there no +other place where you can stay?"</p> + +<p>"I might go down and console Stevens, and borrow a couple of his horse +blankets for a bed if that will please you."</p> + +<p>"It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may go +on to Tête Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?"</p> + +<p>"It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'll +promise not to sleep in the cabin to-night."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night, +and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacks +under the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety and +fear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw her +pause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. His +heart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangely +new and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way.</p> + +<p>He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the moment +he had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood was +roused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to find +Quade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himself +that he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficult +for Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business that +could be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job to +lose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white striped +tent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed him +before, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now he +wanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant to +come up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into the +lighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrust +carelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroad +builders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool balls +and the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or four +musical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's place +was going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whom +he knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their manner +toward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certain +they would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign. +For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotch +surveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no mention of him. Purposely he +passed Quade's tent and walked to the end of the street, nodding and +looking closely at those whom he knew. It was becoming more and more +evident to him that Quade and his pals were keeping the affair of the +afternoon as quiet as possible. Stevens had heard of it. He wondered how.</p> + +<p>Aldous retraced his steps. As though nothing had happened, he entered +Quade's place. There were a dozen men inside, and among them he recognized +three who had been there that afternoon. He nodded to them. Slim Barker was +in Quade's place behind the counter. Barker was Quade's right-hand man at +Miette, and there was a glitter in his rat-like eyes as Aldous leaned over +the glass case at one end of the counter and asked for cigars. He fumbled a +bit as he picked out half a dollar's worth from the box. His eyes met +Slim's.</p> + +<p>"Where is Quade?" he asked casually.</p> + +<p>Barker shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Busy to-night," he answered shortly. "Want to see him?"</p> + +<p>"No, not particularly. Only—I don't want him to hold a grudge."</p> + +<p>Barker replaced the box in the case and turned away. After lighting a cigar +Aldous went out. He was sure that Quade had not returned from the river. +Was he lying in wait for him near the cabin? The thought sent a sudden +thrill through him. In the same breath it was gone. With half a dozen men +ready to do his work, Aldous knew that Quade would not redden his own hands +or place himself in any conspicuous risk. During the next hour he visited +the places where Quade was most frequently seen. He had made up his mind to +walk over to the engineers' camp, when a small figure darted after him out +of the gloom of the trees.</p> + +<p>It was Stevens' boy.</p> + +<p>"Dad wants to see you down at the camp," he whispered excitedly. "He says +right away—an' for no one to see you. He said not to let any one see me. +I've been waiting for you to come out in the dark."</p> + +<p>"Skip back and tell him I'll come," replied Aldous quickly. "Be sure you +mind what he says—and don't let any one see you!"</p> + +<p>The boy disappeared like a rabbit. Aldous looked back, and ahead, and then +dived into the darkness after him.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later he came out on the river close to Stevens' camp. +A little nearer he saw Stevens squatted close to a smouldering fire about +which he was drying some clothes. The boy was huddled in a disconsolate +heap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretched +himself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind a +clump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right in +using caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer's +face. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than when +Aldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droop +of his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coals +of fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a moment +they stood silent.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got +something to tell you."</p> + +<p>They crouched behind the bush.</p> + +<p>"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens."</p> + +<p>The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and +gripped John Aldous by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take +offence—because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw +her up at the train. But you <i>know</i>. Is she good, or—— You know what we +think of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask."</p> + +<p>"She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and as +sweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for."</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her in +your cabin—after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quade +was here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seen +I had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me that +later. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like he +did then. I'll cut it short. He's mad—loon mad—over that girl. I played +the sympathy act, thinkin' of you—an' <i>her</i>. He hinted at some easy money. +I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to take +money most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you. +Then it come out. He made me a proposition."</p> + +<p>Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush.</p> + +<p>"Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone."</p> + +<p>Stevens bent so near that his tobacco-laden breath swept his companion's +cheek.</p> + +<p>"He said he'd replace my lost outfit if I'd put you out of the way some +time day after to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Kill me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>For a few moments there was a silence broken only by their tense breathing. +Aldous had found the packer's hand. He was gripping it hard.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, old man," he said. "And he believes you will do it?"</p> + +<p>"I told him I would—day after to-morrow—an' throw your body in the +Athabasca."</p> + +<p>"Splendid, Stevens! You've got Sherlock Holmes beat by a mile! And does he +want you to do this pretty job because I gave him a crack on the jaw?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Stevens quickly. "He knows the girl is a +stranger and alone. You've taken an interest in her. With you out of the +way, she won't be missed. Dammit, man, don't you know his system? And, if +he ever wanted anything in his life he wants her. She's turned that +poison-blood of his into fire. He raved about her here. He'll go the limit. +He'll do anything to get her. He's so crazy I believe he'd give every +dollar he's got. There's just one thing for you to do. Send the girl back +where she come from. Then you get out. As for myself—I'm goin' to +emigrate. Ain't got a dollar now, so I might as well hit for the prairies +an' get a job on a ranch. Next winter I guess me 'n the kid will trap up on +the Parsnip River."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong—clean wrong," said Aldous quietly. "When I saw your outfit +going down among the rocks I had already made up my mind to help you. What +you've told me to-night hasn't made any difference. I would have helped you +anyway, Stevens. I've got more money than I know what to do with right now. +Roper has a thirty-horse outfit for sale. Buy it to-morrow. I'll pay for +it, and you needn't consider yourself a dollar in debt. Some day I'll have +you take me on a long trip, and that will make up for it. As for the girl +and myself—we're going on to Tête Jaune to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Aldous could see the amazed packer staring at him in the gloom. "You don't +think I'm sellin' myself, do you, Aldous?" he asked huskily. "That ain't +why you're doin' this—for me 'n the kid—is it?"</p> + +<p>"I had made up my mind to do it before I saw you to-night," repeated +Aldous. "I've got lots of money, and I don't use but a little of it. It +sometimes accumulates so fast that it bothers me. Besides, I've promised to +accept payment for the outfit in trips. These mountains have got a hold on +me, Stevens. I'm going to take a good many trips before I die."</p> + +<p>"Not if you go on to Tête Jaune, you ain't," replied Stevens, biting a huge +quid from a black plug.</p> + +<p>Aldous had risen to his feet. Stevens stood up beside him.</p> + +<p>"If you go on to Tête Jaune you're a bigger fool than I was in tryin' to +swim the outfit across the river to-day," he added. "Listen!" He leaned +toward Aldous, his eyes gleaming. "In the last six months there's been +forty dead men dragged out of the Frazer between Tête Jaune an' Fort +George. You know that. The papers have called 'em accidents—the 'toll of +railroad building.' Mebby a part of it is. Mebby a half of them forty died +by accident. The other half didn't. They were sent down by Culver Rann and +Bill Quade. Once you go floatin' down the Frazer there ain't no questions +asked. Somebody sees you an' pulls you out—mebby a Breed or an Indian—an' +puts you under a little sand a bit later. If it's a white man he does +likewise. There ain't no time to investigate floaters over-particular in +the wilderness. Besides, you git so beat up in the rocks you don't look +like much of anything. I know, because I worked on the scows three months, +an' helped bury four of 'em. An' there wasn't anything, not even a scrap of +paper, in the pockets of two of 'em! Is that suspicious, or ain't it? It +don't pay to talk too much along the Frazer. Men keep their mouths shut. +But I'll tell you this: Culver Rann an' Bill Quade know a lot."</p> + +<p>"And you think I'll go in the Frazer?"</p> + +<p>"Egzactly. Quade would rather have you in there than in the Athabasca. And +then——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Stevens spat into the bush, and shrugged his shoulders. "This beautiful +lady you've taken an interest in will turn up missing, Aldous. She'll +disappear off the face of the map—just like Stimson's wife did. You +remember Stimson?"</p> + +<p>"He was found in the Frazer," said Aldous, gripping the other's arm in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"Egzactly. An' that pretty wife of his disappeared a little later. Up there +everybody's too busy to ask where other people go. Culver Rann an' Bill +Quade know what happened to Stimson, an' they know what happened to +Stimson's wife. You don't want to go to Tête Jaune. You don't want to let +<i>her</i> go. I know what I'm talking about. Because——"</p> + +<p>There fell a moment's silence. Aldous waited. Stevens spat again, and +finished in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Quade went to Tête Jaune to-night. He went on a hand-car. He's got +something he wants to tell Culver Rann that he don't dare telephone or +telegraph. An' he wants to get that something to him ahead of to-morrow's +train. Understand?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>John Aldous confessed to himself that he did not quite understand, in spite +of the effort Stevens had made to impress upon him, the importance of not +going to Tête Jaune. He was bewildered over a number of things, and felt +that he needed to be alone for a time to clear his mind. He left Stevens, +promising to return later to share a couple of blankets and a part of his +tepee, for he was determined to keep his promise to Joanne, and not return +to his own cabin, even though Quade had left Miette. He followed a moonlit +trail along the river to an abandoned surveyors' camp, knowing that he +would meet no one, and that in this direction he would have plenty of +unbroken quiet in which to get some sort of order out of the chaotic tangle +of events through which he had passed that day.</p> + +<p>Aldous had employed a certain amount of caution, but until he had talked +with Stevens he had not believed that Quade, in his twofold desire to +avenge himself and possess Joanne, would go to the extraordinary ends +predicted by the packer. His point of view was now entirely changed. He +believed Stevens. He knew the man was not excitable. He was one of the +coolest heads in the mountains. And he had abundant nerve. Thought of +Stimson and Stimson's wife had sent the hot blood through Aldous like fire. +Was Stevens right in that detail? And was Quade actually planning the same +end for him and Joanne? Why had Quade stolen on ahead to Tête Jaune? Why +had he not waited for to-morrow's train?</p> + +<p>He found himself walking swiftly along the road, where he had intended to +walk slowly—a hundred questions pounding through his brain. Suddenly a +thought came to him that stopped him in the trail, his unseeing eyes +staring down into the dark chasm of the river. After all, was it so strange +that Quade would do these things? Into his own life Joanne had come like a +wonderful dream-creature transformed into flesh and blood. He no longer +tried to evade the fact that he could not think without thinking of Joanne. +She had become a part of him. She had made him forget everything but her, +and in a few hours had sent into the dust of ruin his cynicism and +aloneness of a lifetime. If Joanne had come to him like this, making him +forget his work, filling him more and more with the thrilling desire to +fight for her, was it so very strange that a beast like Quade would +fight—in another way?</p> + +<p>He went on down the trail, his hands clenched tightly. After all, it was +not fear of Quade or of what he might attempt that filled him with +uneasiness. It was Joanne herself, her strange quest, its final outcome. +With the thought that she was seeking for the man who was her husband, a +leaden hand seemed gripping at his heart. He tried to shake it off, but it +was like a sickness. To believe that she had been the wife of another man +or that she could ever belong to any other man than himself seemed like +shutting his eyes forever to the sun. And yet she had told him. She had +belonged to another man; she might belong to him even now. She had come to +find if he was alive—or dead.</p> + +<p>And if alive? Aldous stopped again, and looked down into the dark pit +through which the river was rushing a hundred feet below him. It tore in +frothing maelstroms through a thousand rocks, filling the night with a low +thunder. To John Aldous the sound of it might have been a thousand miles +away. He did not hear. His eye saw nothing in the blackness. For a few +moments the question he had asked himself obliterated everything. If they +found Joanne's husband alive at Tête Jaune—what then? He turned back, +retracing his steps over the trail, a feeling of resentment—of hatred for +the man he had never seen—slowly taking the place of the oppressive thing +that had turned his heart sick within him. Then, in a flash, came the +memory of Joanne's words—words in which, white-faced and trembling, she +had confessed that her anxiety was not that she would find him dead, but +that <i>she would find him alive</i>. A joyous thrill shot through him as he +remembered that. Whoever this man was, whatever he might have been to her +once, or was to her now, Joanne did not want to find him alive! He laughed +softly to himself as he quickened his pace. The tense grip of his fingers +loosened. The grim, almost ghastly part of it did not occur to him—the +fact that deep in his soul he was wishing a man dead and in his grave.</p> + +<p>He did not return at once to the scenes about Quade's place, but went to +the station, three quarters of a mile farther up the track. Here, in a +casual way, he learned from the little pink-faced Cockney Englishman who +watched the office at night that Stevens had been correct in his +information. Quade had gone to Tête Jaune. Although it was eleven o'clock, +Aldous proceeded in the direction of the engineers' camp, still another +quarter of a mile deeper in the bush. He was restless. He did not feel that +he could sleep that night. The engineers' camp he expected to find in +darkness, and he was surprised when he saw a light burning brightly in +Keller's cabin.</p> + +<p>Keller was the assistant divisional engineer, and they had become good +friends. It was Keller who had set the first surveyor's line at Tête Jaune, +and it was he who had reported it as the strategic point from which to push +forward the fight against mountain and wilderness, both by river and rail. +He was, in a way, accountable for the existence of Tête Jaune just where it +did exist, and he knew more about it than any other man in the employ of +the Grand Trunk Pacific. For this reason Aldous was glad that Keller had +not gone to bed. He knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an +invitation.</p> + +<p>The engineer stood in the middle of the floor, his coat off, his fat, +stubby hands thrust into the pockets of his baggy trousers, his red face +and bald cranium shining in the lamplight. A strange fury blazed in his +eyes as he greeted his visitor. He began pacing back and forth across the +room, puffing volumes of smoke from a huge bowled German pipe as he +motioned Aldous to a chair.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Peter?"</p> + +<p>"Enough—an' be damned!" growled Peter. "If it wasn't enough do you think +I'd be out of bed at this hour of the night?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it's enough," agreed Aldous. "If it wasn't you'd be in your +little trundle over there, sleeping like a baby. I don't know of any one +who can sleep quite as sweetly as you, Peter. But what the devil <i>is</i> the +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Something that you can't make me feel funny over. You haven't heard—about +the bear?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word, Peter."</p> + +<p>Keller took his hands from his pockets and the big, bowled pipe from his +mouth.</p> + +<p>"You know what I did with that bear," he said. "More than a year ago I made +friends with her up there on the hill instead of killing her. Last summer I +got her so she'd eat out of my hands. I fed her a barrel of sugar between +July and November. We used to chum it an hour at a time, and I'd pet her +like a dog. Why, damn it, man, I thought more of that bear than I did of +any human in these regions! And she got so fond of me she didn't leave to +den up until January. This spring she came out with two cubs, an' as soon +as they could waddle she brought 'em out there on the hillside an' waited +for me. We were better chums than ever. I've got another half barrel of +sugar—lump sugar—on the way from Edmonton. An' now what do you think that +damned C.N.R. gang has done?"</p> + +<p>"They haven't shot her?"</p> + +<p>"No, they haven't shot her. I wish to God they had! They've <i>blown her +up!</i>"</p> + +<p>The little engineer subsided into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear?" he demanded. "They've blown her up! Put a stick of dynamite +under some sugar, attached a battery wire to it, an' when she was licking +up the sugar touched it off. An' I can't do anything, damn 'em! Bears ain't +protected. The government of this province calls 'em 'pests.' Murder 'em +on sight, it says. An' those fiends over there think it's a good joke on +me—an' the bear!"</p> + +<p>Keller was sweating. His fat hands were clenched, and his round, plump body +fairly shook with excitement and anger.</p> + +<p>"When I went over to-night they laughed at me—the whole bunch," he went on +thickly. "I offered to lick every man in the outfit from A to Z, an' I +ain't had a fight in twenty years. Instead of fighting like men, a dozen of +them grabbed hold of me, chucked me into a blanket, an' bounced me for +fifteen minutes straight! What do you think of <i>that</i>, Aldous? +Me—assistant divisional engineer of the G.T.P.—<i>bounced in a blanket</i>!"</p> + +<p>Peter Keller hopped from his chair and began pacing back and forth across +the room again, sucking truculently on his pipe.</p> + +<p>"If they were on our road I'd—I'd chase every man of them out of the +country. But they're not. They belong to the C.N.R. They're out of my +reach." He stopped, suddenly, in front of Aldous. "What can I do?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Aldous. "You've had something like this coming to you, +Peter. I've been expecting it. All the camps for twenty miles up and down +the line know what you thought of that bear. You fired Tibbits because, as +you said, he was too thick with Quade. You told him that right before +Quade's face. Tibbits is now foreman of that grading gang over there. Two +and two make four, you know. Tibbits—Quade—the blown-up bear. Quade +doesn't miss an opportunity, no matter how small it is. Tibbits and Quade +did this to get even with you. You might report the blanket affair to the +contractors of the other road. I don't believe they would stand for it."</p> + +<p>Aldous had guessed correctly what the effect of associating Quade's name +with the affair would be. Keller was one of Quade's deadliest enemies. He +sat down close to Aldous again. His eyes burned deep back. It was not +Keller's physique, but his brain, and the fearlessness of his spirit, that +made him dangerous.</p> + +<p>"I guess you're right, Aldous," he said. "Some day—I'll even up on Quade."</p> + +<p>"And so shall I, Peter."</p> + +<p>The engineer stared into the other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"You——"</p> + +<p>Aldous nodded.</p> + +<p>"Quade left for Tête Jaune to-night, on a hand-car. I follow him to-morrow, +on the train. I can't tell you what's up, Peter, but I don't think it will +stop this side of death for Quade and Culver Rann—or me. I mean that quite +literally. I don't see how more than one side can come out alive. I want to +ask you a few questions before I go on to Tête Jaune. You know every +mountain and trail about the place, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I've tramped them all, afoot and horseback."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you can direct me to what I must find—a man's grave."</p> + +<p>Peter Keller paused in the act of relighting his pipe. For a moment he +stared in amazement.</p> + +<p>"There are a great many graves up at Tête Jaune," he said, at last. "A +great many graves—and many of them unmarked. If it's a <i>Quade</i> grave +you're looking for, Aldous, it will be unmarked."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure that it is marked—or <i>was</i> at one time," said Aldous. +"It's the grave of a man who had quite an unusual name, Peter, and you +might remember it—Mortimer FitzHugh."</p> + +<p>"FitzHugh—FitzHugh," repeated Keller, puffing out fresh volumes of smoke. +"Mortimer FitzHugh——"</p> + +<p>"He died, I believe, before there was a Tête Jaune, or at least before the +steel reached there," added Aldous. "He was on a hunting trip, and I have +reason to think that his death was a violent one."</p> + +<p>Keller rose and fell into his old habit of pacing back and forth across the +room, a habit that had worn a path in the bare pine boards of the floor.</p> + +<p>"There's graves an' graves up there, but not so many that were there before +Tête Jaune came," he began, between puffs. "Up on the side of White Knob +Mountain there's the grave of a man who was torn to bits by a grizzly. But +his name was Humphrey. Old Yellowhead John—Tête Jaune, they called +him—died years before that, and no one knows where his grave is. We had +five men die before the steel came, but there wasn't a FitzHugh among 'em. +Crabby—old Crabby Tompkins, a trapper, is buried in the sand on the +Frazer. The last flood swept his slab away. There's two unmarked graves in +Glacier Canyon, but I guess they're ten years old if a day. Burns was shot. +I knew him. Plenty died after the steel came, but before that——"</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped. He faced Aldous. His breath came in quick jerks.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, I do remember!" he cried. "There's a mountain in the Saw Tooth +Range, twelve miles from Tête Jaune—a mountain with the prettiest basin +you ever saw at the foot of it, with a lake no bigger than this camp, and +an old cabin which Yellowhead himself must have built fifty years ago. +There's a blind canyon runs out of it, short an' dark, on the right. We +found a grave there. I don't remember the first name on the slab. Mebby it +was washed out. But, so 'elp me God, <i>the last name was FitzHugh</i>!"</p> + +<p>With a sudden cry, Aldous jumped to his feet and caught Keller's arm.</p> + +<p>"You're sure of it, Peter?"</p> + +<p>"Positive!"</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Aldous to repress his excitement. The engineer stared +at him even harder than before.</p> + +<p>"What can that grave have to do with Quade?" he asked. "The man died before +Quade was known in these regions."</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you now, Peter," replied Aldous, pulling the engineer to the +table. "But I think you'll know quite soon. For the present, I want you to +sketch out a map that will take me to the grave. Will you?"</p> + +<p>On the table were pencil and paper. Keller seated himself and drew them +toward him.</p> + +<p>"I'm damned if I can see what that grave can have to do with Quade," he +said; "but I'll tell you how to find it!"</p> + +<p>For several minutes they bent low over the table, Peter Keller describing +the trail to the Saw Tooth Mountain as he sketched it, step by step, on a +sheet of office paper. When it was done, Aldous folded it carefully and +placed it in his wallet.</p> + +<p>"I can't go wrong, and—thank you, Keller!"</p> + +<p>After Aldous had gone, Peter Keller sat for some time in deep thought.</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder what the devil there can be about a grave to make him so +happy," he grumbled, listening to the whistle that was growing fainter down +the trail.</p> + +<p>And Aldous, alone, with the moon straight above him as he went back to the +Miette Plain, felt, in truth, this night had become brighter for him than +any day he had ever known. For he knew that Peter Keller was not a man to +make a statement of which he was not sure. Mortimer FitzHugh was dead. His +bones lay under the slab up in that little blind canyon in the shadow of +the Saw Tooth Mountain. To-morrow he would tell Joanne. And, blindly, he +told himself that she would be glad.</p> + +<p>Still whistling, he passed the Chinese laundry shack on the creek, crossed +the railroad tracks, and buried himself in the bush beyond. A quarter of an +hour later he stole quietly into Stevens' camp and went to bed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a><h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> + +<p>Stevens, dreaming of twenty horses plunging to death among the rocks in the +river, slept uneasily. He awoke before it was dawn, but when he dragged +himself from his tepee, moving quietly not to awaken his boy, he found John +Aldous on his knees before a small fire, slicing thin rashers of bacon into +a frying-pan. The weight of his loss was in the tired packer's eyes and +face and the listless droop of his shoulders. John Aldous, with three hours +between the blankets to his credit, was as cheery as the crackling fire +itself. He had wanted to whistle for the last half-hour. Seeing Stevens, he +began now.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't going to rouse you until breakfast was ready," he interrupted +himself to say. "I heard you groaning, Stevens. I know you had a bad night. +And the kid, too. He couldn't sleep. But I made up my mind you'd have to +get up early. I've got a lot of business on to-day, and we'll have to rouse +Curly Roper out of bed to buy his pack outfit. Find the coffee, will you? I +couldn't."</p> + +<p>For a moment Stevens stood over him.</p> + +<p>"See here, Aldous, you didn't mean what you said last night, did you? You +didn't mean—that?"</p> + +<p>"Confound it, yes! Can't you understand plain English, Stevens? Don't you +believe a man when he's a gentleman? Buy that outfit! Why, I'd buy twenty +outfits to-day, I'm—I'm feeling so fine, Stevens!"</p> + +<p>For the first time in forty-eight hours Stevens smiled.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering if I hadn't been dreaming," he said. "Once, a long time +ago, I guess I felt just like you do now."</p> + +<p>With which cryptic remark he went for the coffee.</p> + +<p>Aldous looked up in time to see the boy stagger sleepily out of the tepee. +There was something pathetic about the motherlessness of the picture, and +he understood a little of what Stevens had meant.</p> + +<p>An hour later, with breakfast over, they started for Curly's. Curly was +pulling on his boots when they arrived, while his wife was frying the +inevitable bacon in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"I hear you have some horses for sale, Curly," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Hi 'ave."</p> + +<p>"How many?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-nine, 'r twenty-eight—mebby twenty-seven."</p> + +<p>"How much?"</p> + +<p>Curly looked up from the task of pulling on his second boot.</p> + +<p>"H'are you buying 'orses or looking for hinformation?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm buying, and I'm in a hurry. How much do you want a head?"</p> + +<p>"Sixty, 'r six——"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you sixty dollars apiece for twenty-eight head, and that's just +ten dollars apiece more than they're worth," broke in Aldous, pulling a +check-book and a fountain pen from his pocket. "Is it a go?"</p> + +<p>A little stupefied by the suddenness of it all, Curly opened his mouth and +stared.</p> + +<p>"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles, +ropes, and canvases?"</p> + +<p>Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detect +anything that looked like a joke.</p> + +<p>"Hit's a go," he said.</p> + +<p>Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars.</p> + +<p>"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, but +they're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only with +your agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will you +agree to that?"</p> + +<p>Curly was joyously looking at the check.</p> + +<p>"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I give +you the word of a Hinglish gentleman!"</p> + +<p>Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leaving +Stevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody called +Curly, because he had no hair.</p> + +<p>Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired into +the condition that was holding back the Tête Jaune train. He found that a +slide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. A +hundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they would +finish by noon. A gang boss, who had come back with telegraphic reports, +said that half a dozen men had carried Quade's hand-car over the +obstruction about midnight.</p> + +<p>It was seven o'clock when Aldous left for the Miette bottom. He believed +that Joanne would be up. At this season of the year the first glow of day +usually found the Ottos at breakfast, and for half an hour the sun had been +shining on the top of Pyramid Mountain. He was eager to tell her what had +passed between him and Keller. He laughed softly when he confessed to +himself how madly he wanted to see her.</p> + +<p>He always liked to come up to the Otto home very early of a morning, or in +the dusk of evening. Very frequently he was filled with a desire to stand +outside the red-and-white striped walls of the tent-house and listen +unseen. Inside there was always cheer: at night the crackle of fire and the +glow of light, the happy laughter of the gentle-hearted Scotchwoman, and +the affectionate banter of her "big mountain man," who looked more like a +brigand than the luckiest and most contented husband in the mountains—the +luckiest, quite surely, with the one exception of his brother Clossen, who +had, by some occult strategy or other, induced a sweet-faced and +aristocratic little woman to look upon his own honest physiognomy as the +handsomest and finest in the world. This morning Aldous followed a narrow +path that brought him behind the tent-house. He heard no voices. A few +steps more and he emerged upon a scene that stopped him and set his heart +thumping.</p> + +<p>Less than a dozen paces away stood Mrs. Otto and Joanne, their backs toward +him. They were gazing silently and anxiously in the direction of the thick, +low bush across the clearing, through which led the trail to his cabin. He +did not look toward the bush. His eyes were upon Joanne. Her slender figure +was full in the golden radiance of the morning sun, and Aldous felt himself +under the spell of a joyous wonder as he looked at her. For the first time +he saw her hair as he had pictured it—as he had given it to that other +<i>Joanne</i> in the book he had called "Fair Play." She had been brushing it in +the sun when he came, but now she stood poised in that tense and waiting +attitude—silent—gazing in the direction of the bush, with that marvellous +mantle sweeping about her in a shimmering silken flood. He would not have +moved, nor would he have spoken, until Joanne herself broke the spell. She +turned, and saw him. With a little cry of surprise she flung back her hair. +He could not fail to see the swift look of relief and gladness that had +come into her eyes. In another instant her face was flushing crimson.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper," he apologized. "I +thought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto."</p> + +<p>The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Goodness gracious, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed thankfully. +"Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your dead +body!"</p> + +<p>"We thought perhaps something might have happened," said Joanne, who had +moved nearer the door. "You will excuse me, won't you, while I finish my +hair?"</p> + +<p>Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent. No sooner had she +disappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto's face. There was a +note of alarm in her low voice as she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me. She +tried to be quiet, but I know she didn't sleep much. And she cried. I +couldn't hear her, but the pillow was wet. Once my hand touched her cheek, +and it was wet. I didn't ask any questions. This morning, at breakfast, she +told us everything that happened, all about Quade—and your trouble. She +told us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervous +thinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dear +couldn't even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt for +you. But I don't think that was why she cried!"</p> + +<p>"I wish it had been," said Aldous. "It makes me happy to think she was +worried about—me."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" gasped Mrs. Otto.</p> + +<p>He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding in +her kind eyes.</p> + +<p>"You will keep my little secret, won't you, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "Probably +you'll think it's queer. I've only known her a day. But I feel—like that. +Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or a +sister. I want you to understand why I'm going on to Tête Jaune with her. +That is why she was crying—because of the dread of something up there. I'm +going with her. She shouldn't go alone."</p> + +<p>Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Otto +had come out of the bush and were quite near. Aldous was sorry that Joanne +had spoken of his trouble with Quade. He did not want to discuss the +situation, or waste time in listening to further advice. He was anxious to +be alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from Peter +Keller. For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness. The brothers then +went on to their corral. A few minutes later Joanne was once more at his +side, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin on +the river.</p> + +<p>He could see that the night had made a change in her. There were circles +under her eyes which were not there yesterday. When she looked at him their +velvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was struggling +desperately to keep from him. It was not altogether fear. It was more a +betrayal of pain—a torment of the soul and not of the body. He noticed +that in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangely +pale. The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him was +gone.</p> + +<p>Then he began to tell her of his visit to Peter Keller. His own heart was +beating violently when he came to speak of the grave and the slab over it +that bore the name of FitzHugh. He had expected that what he had discovered +from Keller would create some sort of a sensation. He had even come up to +the final fact gradually, so that it would not appear bald and shocking. +Joanne's attitude stunned him. She looked straight ahead. When she turned +to him he did not see in her eyes what he had expected to see. They were +quiet, emotionless, except for that shadow of inward torture which did not +leave them.</p> + +<p>"Then to-morrow we can go to the grave?" she asked simply.</p> + +<p>Her voice, too, was quiet and without emotion.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "We can leave at sunrise," he said. "I have my own horses at +Tête Jaune and there need be no delay. We were to start into the North from +there."</p> + +<p>"You mean on the adventure you were telling me about?"</p> + +<p>She had looked at him quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Old Donald, my partner, has been waiting for me a week. That's why I +was so deuced anxious to rush the book to an end. I'm behind Donald's +schedule, and he's growing nervous. It's rather an unusual enterprise +that's taking us north this time, and Donald can't understand why I should +hang back to write the tail end of a book. He has lived sixty years in the +mountains. His full name is Donald MacDonald. Sometimes, back in my own +mind, I've called him History. He seems like that—as though he'd lived for +ages in these mountains instead of sixty years. If I could only write what +he has lived—even what one might imagine that he has lived! But I cannot. +I have tried three times, and have failed. I think of him as The Last +Spirit—a strange wandering ghost of the mighty ranges. His kind passed +away a hundred years ago. You will understand—when you see him."</p> + +<p>She put her hand on his arm and let it rest there lightly as they walked. +Into her eyes had returned some of the old warm glow of yesterday.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me about this adventure," she entreated softly. "I +understand—about the other. You have been good—oh! so good to me! And I +should tell you things; you are expecting me to explain. It is only fair +and honest that I should. I know what is in your mind, and I only want you +to wait—until to-morrow. Will you? And I will tell you then, when we have +found the grave."</p> + +<p>Involuntarily his hand sought Joanne's. For a single moment he felt the +warm, sweet thrill of it in his own as he pressed it more closely to his +arm. Then he freed it, looking straight ahead. A soft flush grew in +Joanne's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Do you care a great deal for riches?" he asked. "Does the golden pot at +the end of the rainbow hold out a lure for you?" He did not realize the +strangeness of his question until their eyes met. "Because if you don't," +he added, smiling, "this adventure of ours isn't going to look very +exciting to you."</p> + +<p>She laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't care for riches," she replied. "I am quite sure that just as +great education proves to one how little one knows, so great wealth brings +one face to face with the truth of how little one can enjoy. My father used +to say that the golden treasure at the end of the rainbow in every human +life was happiness, and that is something which you cannot buy. So why +crave riches, then? But please don't let my foolish ideas disappoint you. +I'll promise to be properly excited."</p> + +<p>She saw his face suddenly aflame with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"By George, but you're a—a brick, Joanne!" he exclaimed. "You are! And +I—I——" He was fumbling in his breast pocket. He brought out his wallet +and extracted from it the bit of paper Stevens had given him. "You dropped +that, and Stevens found it," he explained, giving it to her. "I thought +those figures might represent your fortune—or your income. Don't mind +telling you I went over 'em carefully. There's a mistake in the third +column. Five and four don't make seven. They make nine. In the final, when +you come to the multiplication part of it, that correction will make you +just thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars richer."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Joanne, lowering her eyes, and beginning to tear the paper +into small pieces. "And will it disappoint you, Mr. John Aldous, if I tell +you that all these figures stand for riches which some one else possesses? +And won't you let me remind you that we're getting a long way from what I +want to know—about your trip into the North?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it: we're hot on the trail," chuckled Aldous, deliberately +placing her hand on his arm again. "You don't care for riches. Neither do +I. I'm delighted to know we're going tandem in that respect. I've never had +any fun with money. It's the money that's had fun with me. I've no use for +yachts and diamonds and I'd rather travel afoot with a gun over my shoulder +than in a private car. Half the time I'm doing my own cooking, and I +haven't worn a white shirt in a year. My publishers persist in shoving more +money my way than I know what to do with.</p> + +<p>"You see, I pay only ten cents a plug for my smoking tobacco, and other +things accordingly. Somebody has said something about the good Lord sitting +up in Heaven and laughing at the jokes He plays on men. Well, I'm sitting +back and laughing now and then at the tussle between men and money over all +creation. There's a whole lot of humour in the way men and women fight and +die for money, if you only take time to stand out on the side and look on. +There's nothing big or dramatic about it. I may be a heathen, but to my +mind the funniest of all things is to see the world wringing its neck for a +dollar. And Donald—old History—needs even less money than I. So that puts +the big element of humour in this expedition of ours. We don't want money, +particularly. Donald wouldn't wear more than four pairs of boots a year if +he was a billionaire. And yet——"</p> + +<p>He turned to Joanne. The pressure of her hand was warmer on his arm. Her +beautiful eyes were glowing, and her red lips parted as she waited +breathlessly for him to go on.</p> + +<p>"And yet, we're going to a place where you can scoop gold up with a +shovel," he finished. "That's the funny part of it."</p> + +<p>"It isn't funny—it's tremendous!" gasped Joanne. "Think of what a man like +you could do with unlimited wealth, the good you might achieve, the +splendid endowments you might make——"</p> + +<p>"I have already made several endowments," interrupted Aldous. "I believe +that I have made a great many people happy, Ladygray—a great many. I am +gifted to make endowments, I think, above most people. Not one of the +endowments I have made has failed of complete success."</p> + +<p>"And may I ask what some of them were?"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember them all. There have been a great, great many. Most +conspicuous among them were three endowments which I made to some very +worthy people at various times for seven salted mines. I suppose you know +what a salted mine is, Ladygray? At other times I have endowed railroad +stocks which were very much in need of my helping mite, two copper +companies, a concern that was supposed to hoist up pure asbestos from the +stomach of Popocatapetl, and a steamship company that never steamed. As I +said before, they were all very successful endowments."</p> + +<p>"And how many of the other kind have you made?" she asked gently, looking +down the trail. "Like—Stevens', for instance?"</p> + +<p>He turned to her sharply.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce——"</p> + +<p>"Did you succeed in getting the new outfit from Mr. Curly?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. How did you know?"</p> + +<p>She smiled at the amazement which had gathered in his face. A glad, soft +light shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I guess Mrs. Otto has been like a mother to that poor little boy," she +explained. "When you and Mr. Stevens went up to buy the outfit this morning +Jimmy ran over to tell her the news. We were all there—at breakfast. He +was so excited he could scarcely breathe. But it all came out, and he ran +back to camp before you came because he thought you wouldn't want me to +know. Wasn't that funny? He told me so when I walked a little way up the +path with him."</p> + +<p>"The little reprobate!" chuckled Aldous. "He's the best publicity man I +ever had, Ladygray. I did want you to know about this, and I wanted it to +come to you in just this way, so that I wouldn't be compelled to tell you +myself of the big and noble act I have done. It was my hope and desire that +you, through some one else, would learn of it, and come to understand more +fully what a generous and splendid biped I am. I even plotted to give this +child of Stevens' a silver dollar if he would get the news to you in some +one of his innocent ways. He's done it. And he couldn't have done it +better—even for a dollar. Ah, here we are at the cabin. Will you excuse +me while I pick up a few things that I want to take on to Tête Jaune with +me?"</p> + +<p>Between two trees close to the cabin he had built a seat, and here he left +Joanne. He was gone scarcely five minutes when he reappeared with a small +pack-sack over his shoulders, locked the door, and rejoined her.</p> + +<p>"You see it isn't much of a task for me to move," he said, as they turned +back in the direction of the Ottos'. "I'll wash the dishes when I come back +next October."</p> + +<p>"Five months!" gasped Joanne, counting on her fingers. "John Aldous, do you +mean——"</p> + +<p>"I do," he nodded emphatically. "I frequently leave dishes unwashed for +quite a spell at a time. That's the one unpleasant thing about this sort of +life—washing dishes. It's not so bad in the rainy season, but it's fierce +during a dry spell. When it rains I put the dishes out on a flat rock, +dirty side up, and the good Lord does the scrubbing."</p> + +<p>He looked at Joanne, face and eyes aglow with the happiness that was +sweeping in a mighty tumult within him. Half an hour had worked a +transformation in Joanne. There was no longer a trace of anguish or of fear +in her eyes. Their purity and limpid beauty made him think of the rock +violets that grew high up on the mountains. Her lips and cheeks were +flushed, and the soft pressure of her hand again resting on his arm filled +him with the exquisite thrill of possession and joy. He did not speak of +Tête Jaune again until they reached the Otto tent-house, and then only to +assure her that he would call for her half an hour before the train was +ready to leave.</p> + +<p>As soon as possible after that he went to the telegraph office and sent a +long message to MacDonald. Among other things he told him to prepare their +cabin for a lady guest. He knew this would shock the old mountain wanderer, +but he also knew that Donald would follow his instructions in spite of +whatever alarm he might have. There were other women at Tête Jaune, the +wives of men he knew, to whom he might have taken Joanne. Under the +conditions, however, he believed his own cabin would be her best refuge, at +least for a day or so. In that time he could take some one into his +confidence, probably Blackton and his wife. In fact, as he thought the +circumstances over, he saw the necessity of confiding in the Blacktons that +very night.</p> + +<p>He left the station, growing a bit nervous. Was it right for him to take +Joanne to his cabin at all? He had a tremendous desire to do so, chiefly on +account of Quade. The cabin was a quarter of a mile in the bush, and he was +positive if Joanne was there that Quade, and perhaps Culver Rann, would +come nosing about. This would give him the opportunity of putting into +execution a plan which he had already arranged for himself and old +MacDonald. On the other hand, was this arrangement fair to Joanne, even +though it gave him the chance to square up accounts with Quade?</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, and faced the station. All at once there swept upon +him a realization of how blind he had been, and what a fool he had almost +made of himself. Blackton was one of the contractors who were working +miracles in the mountains. He was a friend who would fight for him if +necessary. Mrs. Blackton, who preferred to be on the firing line with her +husband than in her luxurious city home, was the leader of all that was +decent and womanly in Tête Jaune. Why not have these friends meet them at +the train and take Joanne direct to their house? Such recognition and +friendship would mean everything to Joanne. To take her to his cabin would +mean——</p> + +<p>Inwardly he swore at himself as he hurried back to the station, and his +face burned hotly as he thought of the chance such a blunder on his part +would have given Quade and Culver Rann to circulate the stories with which +they largely played their scoundrelly game. He sent another and longer +telegram. This time it was to Blackton.</p> + +<p>He ate dinner with Stevens, who had his new outfit ready for the mountains. +It was two o'clock before he brought Joanne up to the station. She was +dressed now as he had first seen her when she entered Quade's place. A veil +covered her face. Through the gray film of it he caught the soft warm glow +of her eyes and the shimmer of gold-brown tendrils of her hair. And he knew +why she wore that veil. It set his heart beating swiftly—the fact that she +was trying to hide from all eyes but his own a beauty so pure and wonderful +that it made her uncomfortable when under the staring gaze of the Horde.</p> + +<p>The hand that rested on his arm he pressed closer to his side as they +walked up the station platform, and under his breath he laughed softly and +joyously as he felt the thrill of it. He spoke no word. Not until they were +in their seat in the coach did Joanne look at him after that pressure of +her hand, and then she did not speak. But in the veiled glow of her eyes +there was something that told him she understood—a light that was +wonderfully gentle and sweet. And yet, without words, she asked him to +keep within his soul the things that were pounding madly there for speech.</p> + +<p>As the train rolled on and the babble of voices about them joined the +crunching rumble of the wheels, he wanted to lean close to her and tell her +how a few hours had changed the world for him. And then, for a moment, her +eyes turned to him again, and he knew that it would be a sacrilege to give +voice to the things he wanted to say. For many minutes he was silent, +gazing with her upon the wild panorama of mountain beauty as it drifted +past the car window. A loud voice two seats ahead of them proclaimed that +they were about to make Templeton's Curve. The man was talking to his +companion.</p> + +<p>"They shot up a hundred thousand pounds of black powder an' dynamite to +make way for two hundred feet of steel on that curve," he explained in a +voice heard all over the car. "They say you could hear the explosion fifty +miles away. Jack Templeton was near-sighted, an' he didn't see a rock +coming down on him that was half as big as a house. I helped scrape up what +was left of 'im an' we planted him at this end of the curve. It's been +Templeton's Curve ever since. You'll see his grave—with a slab over it!"</p> + +<p>It was there almost as he spoke, marked by a white-painted cross in a +circle of whitewashed stones. John Aldous felt a sudden shiver pass through +his companion. She turned from the window. Through her veil he saw her lips +tighten. Until he left the car half an hour later the man in the second +seat ahead talked of Templeton's grave and a dozen other graves along the +right of way. He was a rock-hog, and a specialist on the subject of +graves. Inwardly Aldous cursed him roundly. He cursed him all the way to +Tête Jaune, for to him he attributed the change which had again come over +Joanne.</p> + +<p>This change she could only partly conceal from him under her veil. She +asked him many questions about Tête Jaune and the Blacktons, and tried to +take an interest in the scenery they were passing. In spite of this he +could see that she was becoming more and more nervous as they progressed +toward the end of their journey. He felt the slow dampening of his own joy, +the deadening clutch of yesterday at his heart. Twice she lifted her veil +for a moment and he saw she was pale and the tense lines had gathered about +her mouth again. There was something almost haggard in her look the second +time.</p> + +<p>In the early dusk of evening they arrived at Tête Jaune. Aldous waited +until the car had emptied itself before he rose from his seat. Joanne's +hand clutched at his arm as they walked down the aisle. He felt the fierce +pressure of her fingers in his flesh. On the car platform they paused for a +moment, and he felt her throbbing beside him. She had taken her hand from +his arm, and he turned suddenly. She had raised her veil. Her face was dead +white. And she was staring out over the sea of faces under them in a +strange questing way, and her breath came from between her slightly parted +lips as if she had been running. Amazed for the moment, John Aldous did not +move. Somewhere in that crowd <i>Joanne expected to find a face she knew!</i> +The truth struck him dumb—made him inert and lifeless. He, too, stared as +if in a trance. And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazed +into fierce life.</p> + +<p>In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces of +all were turned toward them. One he recognized—a bloated, leering face +grinning devilishly at them. It was Quade!</p> + +<p>A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too, +had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for. It was not his +face that she had expected to see nor because of him that she had lifted +her veil for the mob!</p> + +<p>He stepped down from the car and gave her his hand. Her fingers clutched +his convulsively. And they were cold as the fingers of the dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_X"></a><h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br> + +<p>A moment later some one came surging through the crowd, and called Aldous +by name. It was Blackton. His thin, genial face with its little spiked +moustache rose above the sea of heads about him, and as he came he grinned +a welcome.</p> + +<p>"A beastly mob!" he exclaimed, as he gripped his friend's hand. "I'm sorry +I couldn't bring my wife nearer than the back platform."</p> + +<p>Aldous turned to Joanne. He was still half in a daze. His heart was choking +him with its swift and excited beating. Even as he introduced her to +Blackton the voice kept crying in his brain that she had expected to find +some one in this crowd whom she knew. For a space it was as if the Joanne +whom he had known had slipped away from him. She had told him about the +grave, but this other she had kept from him. Something that was almost +anger surged up in him. His face bore marks of the strain as he watched her +greet Blackton. In an instant, it seemed to him, she had regained a part of +her composure. Blackton saw nothing but the haggard lines about her eyes +and the deep pallor in her face, which he ascribed to fatigue.</p> + +<p>"You're tired, Miss Gray," he said. "It's a killing ride up from Miette +these days. If we can get through this mob we'll have supper within fifteen +minutes!"</p> + +<p>With a word to Aldous he began worming his long, lean body ahead of them. +An instant Joanne's face was very close to Aldous', so close that he felt +her breath, and a tendril of her hair touched his lips. In that instant her +eyes looked into his steadily, and he felt rush over him a sudden shame. If +she was seeking and expecting, it was to him more than ever that she was +now looking for protection. The haunting trouble in her eyes, their +entreaty, their shining faith in him told him that, and he was glad that +she had not seen his sudden fear and suspicion. She clung more closely to +him as they followed Blackton. Her little fingers held his arm as if she +were afraid some force might tear him from her. He saw that she was looking +quickly at the faces about them with that same questing mystery in her +search.</p> + +<p>At the thin outer edge of the crowd Blackton dropped back beside them. A +few steps more and they came to the end of the platform, where a buckboard +was waiting in the dim light of one of the station lamps. Blackton +introduced Joanne, and assisted her into the seat beside his wife.</p> + +<p>"We'll leave you ladies to become acquainted while we rustle the baggage," +he said. "Got the checks, Aldous?"</p> + +<p>Joanne had given Aldous two checks on the train, and he handed them to +Blackton. Together they made their way to the baggage-room.</p> + +<p>"Thought Miss Gray would have some luggage, so I had one of my men come +with another team," he explained. "We won't have to wait. I'll give him the +checks."</p> + +<p>Before they returned to the buckboard, Aldous halted his friend.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say much in that telegram," he said. "If Miss Gray wasn't a +bit tired and unstrung I'd let her explain. I want you to tell Mrs. +Blackton that she has come to Tête Jaune on a rather unpleasant mission, +old man. Nothing less than to attend to the grave of a—a near relative."</p> + +<p>"I regret that—I regret it very much," replied Blackton, flinging away the +match he had lighted without touching it to his cigar. "I guessed something +was wrong. She's welcome at our place, Aldous—for as long as she remains +in Tête Jaune. Perhaps I knew this relative. If I can assist you—or +her——"</p> + +<p>"He died before the steel came," said Aldous. "FitzHugh was his name. Old +Donald and I are going to take her to the grave. Miss Gray is an old friend +of mine," he lied boldly. "We want to start at dawn. Will that be too much +trouble for you and your wife?"</p> + +<p>"No trouble at all," declared Blackton. "We've got a Chinese cook who's +more like an owl than a human. How will a four o'clock breakfast suit you?"</p> + +<p>"Splendidly!"</p> + +<p>As they went on, the contractor said:</p> + +<p>"I carried your word to MacDonald. Hunted him down out in the bush. He is +very anxious to see you. He said he would not be at the depot, but that you +must not fail him. He's kept strangely under cover of late. Curious old +ghost, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"The strangest man in the mountains," said Aldous "And, when you come to +know him, the most lovable. We're going North together."</p> + +<p>This time it was Blackton who stopped, with a hand on his companion's arm. +A short distance from them they could see the buckboard in the light of +the station lamp.</p> + +<p>"Has old Donald written you lately?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No. He says he hasn't written a letter in twenty years."</p> + +<p>Blackton hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Then you haven't heard of his—accident?"</p> + +<p>The strange look in the contractor's face as he lighted a cigar made John +Aldous catch him sharply by the arm.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"He was shot. I happened to be in Dr. Brady's office when he dragged +himself in, late at night. Doc got the bullet out of his shoulder. It +wasn't a bad wound. The old man swore it was an accident, and asked us to +say nothing about it. We haven't. But I've been wondering. Old Donald said +he was careless with his own pistol. But the fact is, Aldous—<i>he was shot +from behind!</i>"</p> + +<p>"The deuce you say!"</p> + +<p>"There was no perforation except from <i>behind</i>. In some way the bullet had +spent itself before it reached him. Otherwise it would have killed him."</p> + +<p>For a moment Aldous stared in speechless amazement into Blackton's face.</p> + +<p>"When did this happen?" he asked then.</p> + +<p>"Three days ago. Since then I have not seen old Donald until to-night. +Almost by accident I met him out there in the timber. I delivered the +telegram you sent him. After he had read it I showed him mine. He scribbled +something on a bit of paper, folded it, and pinned it with a porcupine +quill. I've been mighty curious, but I haven't pulled out that quill. Here +it is."</p> + +<p>From his pocket he produced the note and gave it to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I'll read it a little later," said Aldous. "The ladies may possibly become +anxious about us."</p> + +<p>He dropped it in his pocket as he thanked Blackton for the trouble he had +taken in finding MacDonald. As he climbed into the front seat of the +buckboard his eyes met Joanne's. He was glad that in a large measure she +had recovered her self-possession. She smiled at him as they drove off, and +there was something in the sweet tremble of her lips that made him almost +fancy she was asking his forgiveness for having forgotten herself. Her +voice sounded more natural to him as she spoke to Mrs. Blackton. The +latter, a plump little blue-eyed woman with dimples and golden hair, was +already making her feel at home. She leaned over and placed a hand on her +husband's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Let's drive home by way of town, Paul," she suggested. "It's only a little +farther, and I'm quite sure Miss Gray will be interested in our Great White +Way of the mountains. And I'm crazy to see that bear you were telling me +about," she added.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have suited Aldous more than this suggestion. He was sure +that Quade, following his own and Culver Rann's old methods, had already +prepared stories about Joanne, and he not only wanted Quade's friends—but +all of Tête Jaune as well—to see Joanne in the company of Mrs. Paul +Blackton and her husband. And this was a splendid opportunity, for the +night carnival was already beginning.</p> + +<p>"The bear is worth seeing," said Blackton, turning his team in the +direction of the blazing light of the half-mile street that was the +Broadway of Tête Jaune. "And the woman who rides him is worth seeing, too," +he chuckled. "He's a big fellow—and she plays the Godiva act. Rides him up +and down the street with her hair down, collecting dimes and quarters and +half dollars as she goes."</p> + +<p>A minute later the length of the street swept out ahead of them. It is +probable that the world had never before seen a street just like this +Broadway in Tête Jaune—the pleasure Mecca of five thousand workers along +the line of steel. There had been great "camps" in the building of other +railroads, but never a city in the wilderness like this—a place that had +sprung up like magic and which, a few months later, was doomed to disappear +as quickly. For half a mile it blazed out ahead of them, two garishly +lighted rows of shacks, big tents, log buildings, and rough board +structures, with a rough, wide street between.</p> + +<p>To-night Tête Jaune was like a blazing fire against the darkness of the +forest and mountain beyond. A hundred sputtering "jacks" sent up columns of +yellow flame in front of places already filled with the riot and tumult of +the night. A thousand lamps and coloured lanterns flashed like fireflies +along the way, and under them the crowd had gathered, and was flowing back +and forth. It was a weird and fantastic sight—this one strange and almost +uncanny street that was there largely for the play and the excitement of +men.</p> + +<p>Aldous turned to Joanne. He knew what this town meant. It was the first and +the last of its kind, and its history would never be written. The world +outside the mountains knew nothing of it. Like the men who made up its +transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past. Even the +mountains would forget it. But more than once, as he had stood a part of +it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the +things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden +tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy. He found something of +his own thought in Joanne's eyes.</p> + +<p>"There isn't much to it," he said, "but to-night, if you made the hunt, you +could find men of eighteen or twenty nationalities in that street."</p> + +<p>"And a little more besides," laughed Blackton. "If you could write the +complete story of how Tête Jaune has broken the law, Aldous, it would fill +a volume as big as Peggy's family Bible!"</p> + +<p>"And after all, it's funny," said Peggy Blackton. "There!" she cried +suddenly. "Isn't <i>that</i> funny?"</p> + +<p>The glare and noisy life were on both sides of them now. Half a dozen +phonographs were going. From up the street came the softer strains of a +piano, and from in between the shrieking notes of bagpipe. Peggy Blackton +was pointing to a brilliantly lighted, black-tarpaulined shop. Huge white +letters on its front announced that Lady Barbers were within. They could +see two of them at work through the big window. And they were pretty. The +place was crowded with men. Men were waiting outside.</p> + +<p>"Paul says they charge a dollar for a haircut and fifty cents for a shave," +explained Peggy Blackton. "And the man over there across the street is +going broke because he can't get business at fifteen cents a shave. <i>Isn't</i> +it funny?"</p> + +<p>As they went on Aldous searched the street for Quade. Several times he +turned to the back seat, and always he found Joanne's eyes questing in that +strange way for the some one whom she expected to see. Mrs. Blackton was +pointing out lighted places, and explaining things as they passed, but he +knew that in spite of her apparent attention Joanne heard only a part of +what she was saying. In that crowd she hoped—or feared—to find a certain +face. And again Aldous told himself that it was not Quade's face.</p> + +<p>Near the end of the street a crowd was gathering, and here, for a moment, +Blackton stopped his team within fifty feet of the objects of attraction. A +slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was standing beside a +huge brown bear. Her sleek black hair, shining as if it had been oiled, +fell in curls about her shoulders. Her rouged lips were smiling. Even at +that distance her black eyes sparkled like diamonds. She had evidently just +finished taking up a collection, for she was fastening the cord of a silken +purse about her neck. In another moment she bestrode the bear, the crowd +fell apart, and as the onlookers broke into a roar of applause the big +beast lumbered slowly up the street with its rider.</p> + +<p>"One of Culver Rann's friends," said Blackton <i>sotto voce</i>, as he drove on. +"She takes in a hundred a night if she makes a cent!"</p> + +<a name="image-3"><!-- Image 3 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/003.jpg" height="451" width="300" +alt="A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider."> +</center> + +<h5>A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider.</h5> + + +<p>Blackton's big log bungalow was close to the engineers' camp half a mile +distant from the one lighted street and the hundreds of tents and shacks +that made up the residential part of the town. Not until they were inside, +and Peggy Blackton had disappeared with Joanne for a few moments, did +Aldous take old Donald MacDonald's note from his pocket. He pulled out the +quill, unfolded the bit of paper, and read the few crudely written words +the mountain man had sent him. Blackton turned in time to catch the sudden +amazement in his face. Crushing the note in his hand, Aldous looked at the +other, his mouth tightening.</p> + +<p>"You must help me make excuses, old man," he said quietly. "It will seem +strange to them if I do not stay for supper. But—it is impossible. I must +see old Donald as quickly as I can get to him."</p> + +<p>His manner more than his words kept Blackton from urging him to remain. The +contractor stared at him for a moment, his own eyes growing harder and more +direct.</p> + +<p>"It's about the shooting," he said. "If you want me to go with you, +Aldous——"</p> + +<p>"Thanks. That will be unnecessary."</p> + +<p>Peggy Blackton and Joanne were returning. Aldous turned toward them as they +entered the room. With the note still in his hand he repeated to them what +he had told Blackton—that he had received word which made it immediately +urgent for him to go to MacDonald. He shook hands with the Blacktons, +promising to be on hand for the four o'clock breakfast.</p> + +<p>Joanne followed him to the door and out upon the veranda. For a moment they +were alone, and now her eyes were wide and filled with fear as he clasped +her hands closely in his own.</p> + +<p>"I saw him," she whispered, her fingers tightening convulsively. "I saw +that man—Quade—at the station. He followed us up the street. Twice I +looked behind—and saw him. I am afraid—afraid to let you go back there. I +believe he is somewhere out there now—waiting for you!"</p> + +<p>She was frightened, trembling; and her fear for him, the fear in her +shining eyes, in her throbbing breath, in the clasp of her fingers, sent +through John Aldous a joy that almost made him free her hands and crush her +in his arms in the ecstasy of that wonderful moment. Then Peggy Blackton +and her husband appeared in the door. He released her hands, and stepped +out into the gloom. The cheery good-nights of the Blacktons followed him. +And Joanne's good-night was in her eyes—following him until he was gone, +filled with their entreaty and their fear.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards distant, where the trail split to lead to the camp of the +engineers, there was a lantern on a pole. Here Aldous paused, out of sight +of the Blackton bungalow, and in the dim light read again MacDonald's note.</p> + +<p>In a cramped and almost illegible hand the old wanderer of the mountains +had written:</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>Don't go to cabin. Culver Rann waiting to kill you. Don't show + yorself in town. Cum to me as soon as you can on trail striking + north to Loon Lake. Watch yorself. Be ready with yor gun.</p> + +<p> DONALD MacDONALD.</p></div> + +<p>Aldous shoved the note in his pocket and slipped back out of the +lantern-glow into deep shadow. For several minutes he stood silent and +listening.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br> + +<p>As John Aldous stood hidden in the darkness, listening for the sound of a +footstep, Joanne's words still rang in his ears. "I believe he is out +there—waiting for you," she had said; and, chuckling softly in the gloom, +he told himself that nothing would give him more satisfaction than an +immediate and material proof of her fear. In the present moment he felt a +keen desire to confront Quade face to face out there in the lantern-glow, +and settle with the mottled beast once for all. The fact that Quade had +seen Joanne as the guest of the Blacktons hardened him in his +determination. Quade could no longer be in possible error regarding her. He +knew that she had friends, and that she was not of the kind who could be +made or induced to play his game and Culver Rann's. If he followed her +after this——</p> + +<p>Aldous gritted his teeth and stared up and down the black trail. Five +minutes passed and he heard nothing that sounded like a footstep, and he +saw no moving shadow in the gloom. Slowly he continued along the road until +he came to where a narrow pack-trail swung north and east through the thick +spruce and balsam in the direction of Loon Lake. Remembering MacDonald's +warning, he kept his pistol in his hand. The moon was just beginning to +rise over the shoulder of a mountain, and after a little it lighted up the +more open spaces ahead of him. Now and then he paused, and turned to +listen. As he progressed with slowness and caution, his mind worked +swiftly. He knew that Donald MacDonald was the last man in the world to +write such a message as he had sent him through Blackton unless there had +been a tremendous reason for it. But why, he asked himself again and again, +should Culver Rann want to kill him? Rann knew nothing of Joanne. He had +not seen her. And surely Quade had not had time to formulate a plot with +his partner before MacDonald wrote his warning. Besides, an attempt had +been made to assassinate the old mountaineer! MacDonald had not warned him +against Quade. He had told him to guard himself against Rann. And what +reason could this Culver Rann have for doing him injury? The more he +thought of it the more puzzled he became. And then, in a flash, the +possible solution of it all came to him.</p> + +<p>Had Culver Rann discovered the secret mission on which he and the old +mountaineer were going into the North? Had he learned of the gold—where it +was to be found? And was their assassination the first step in a plot to +secure possession of the treasure?</p> + +<p>The blood in Aldous' veins ran faster. He gripped his pistol harder. More +closely he looked into the moonlit gloom of the trail ahead of him. He +believed that he had guessed the meaning of MacDonald's warning. It was the +gold! More than once thought of the yellow treasure far up in the North had +thrilled him, but never as it thrilled him now. Was the old tragedy of it +to be lived over again? Was it again to play its part in a terrible drama +of men's lives, as it had played it more than forty years ago? The gold! +The gold that for nearly half a century had lain with the bones of its +dead, alone with its terrible secret, alone until Donald MacDonald had +found it again! He had not told Joanne the story of it, the appalling and +almost unbelievable tragedy of it. He had meant to do so. But they had +talked of other things. He had meant to tell her that it was not the gold +itself that was luring him far to the north—that it was not the gold alone +that was taking Donald MacDonald back to it.</p> + +<p>And now, as he stood for a moment listening to the low sweep of the wind in +the spruce-tops, it seemed to him that the night was filled with whispering +voices of that long-ago—and he shivered, and held his breath. A cloud had +drifted under the moon. For a few moments it was pitch dark. The fingers of +his hand dug into the rough bark of a spruce. He did not move. It was then +that he heard something above the caressing rustle of the wind in the +spruce-tops.</p> + +<p>It came to him faintly, from full half a mile deeper in the black forest +that reached down to the bank of the Frazer. It was the night call of an +owl—one of the big gray owls that turned white as the snow in winter. +Mentally he counted the notes in the call. One, two, three, <i>four</i>—and a +flood of relief swept over him. It was MacDonald. They had used that signal +in their hunting, when they had wished to locate each other without +frightening game. Always there were three notes in the big gray owl's +quavering cry. The fourth was human. He put his hands to his mouth and sent +back an answer, emphasizing the fourth note. The light breeze had died down +for a moment, and Aldous heard the old mountaineer's reply as it floated +faintly back to him through the forest. Continuing to hold his pistol, he +went on, this time more swiftly.</p> + +<p>MacDonald did not signal again. The moon was climbing rapidly into the sky, +and with each passing minute the night was becoming lighter. He had gone +half a mile when he stopped again and signalled softly. MacDonald's voice +answered, so near that for an instant the automatic flashed in the +moonlight. Aldous stepped out where the trail had widened into a small open +spot. Half a dozen paces from him, in the bright flood of the moon, stood +Donald MacDonald.</p> + +<p>The night, the moon-glow, the tense attitude of his waiting added to the +weirdness of the picture which the old wanderer of the mountains made as +Aldous faced him. MacDonald was tall; some trick of the night made him +appear almost unhumanly tall as he stood in the centre of that tiny moonlit +amphitheatre. His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders drooped a +little, for he was old. A thick, shaggy beard fell in a silvery sheen over +his breast. His hair, gray as the underwing of the owl whose note he +forged, straggled in uncut disarray from under the drooping rim of a +battered and weatherworn hat. His coat was of buckskin, and it was short at +the sleeves—four inches too short; and the legs of his trousers were cut +off between the knees and the ankles, giving him a still greater appearance +of height.</p> + +<p>In the crook of his arm MacDonald held a rifle, a strange-looking, +long-barrelled rifle of a type a quarter of a century old. And Donald +MacDonald, in the picture he made, was like his gun, old and gray and +ghostly, as if he had risen out of some graveyard of the past to warm +himself in the yellow splendour of the moon. But in the grayness and +gauntness of him there was something that was mightier than the strength of +youth. He was alert. In the crook of his arm there was caution. His eyes +were as keen as the eyes of an animal. His shoulders spoke of a strength +but little impaired by the years. Ghostly gray beard, ghostly gray hair, +haunting eyes that gleamed, all added to the strange and weird +impressiveness of the man as he stood before Aldous. And when he spoke, his +voice had in it the deep, low, cavernous note of a partridge's drumming.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've come, Aldous," he said. "I've been waiting ever since the +train come in. I was afraid you'd go to the cabin!"</p> + +<p>Aldous stepped forth and gripped the old mountaineer's outstretched hand. +There was intense relief in Donald's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I got a little camp back here in the bush," he went on, nodding riverward. +"It's safer 'n the shack these days. Yo're sure—there ain't no one +following?"</p> + +<p>"Quite certain," assured Aldous. "Look here, MacDonald—what in thunder has +happened? Don't continue my suspense! Who shot you? Why did you warn me?"</p> + +<p>Deep in his beard the old hunter laughed.</p> + +<p>"Same fellow as would have shot you, I guess," he answered. "They made a +bad job of it, Johnny, an awful bad job, an' mebby there'd been a better +man layin' for you!"</p> + +<p>He was pulling Aldous in the bush as he spoke. For ten minutes he dived on +ahead through a jungle in which there was no trail. Suddenly he turned, +led the way around the edge of a huge mass of rock, and paused a moment +later before a small smouldering fire. Against the face of a gigantic +boulder was a balsam shelter. A few cooking utensils were scattered about. +It was evident that MacDonald had been living here for several days.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though I'd run away, don't it, Johnny?" he asked, laughing in his +curious, chuckling way again. "An' so I did, boy. From the mountain up +there I've been watching things through my telescope—been keepin' quiet +since Doc pulled the bullet out. I've been layin' for the Breed. I wanted +him to think I'd vamoosed. I'm goin' to kill him!"</p> + +<p>He had squatted down before the fire, his long rifle across his knees, and +spoke as quietly as though he was talking of a partridge or a squirrel +instead of a human being. He wormed a hand into one of his pockets and +produced a small dark object which he handed to Aldous The other felt an +uncanny chill as it touched his fingers. It was a mis-shapened bullet.</p> + +<p>"Doc gave me the lead," continued MacDonald coolly, beginning to slice a +pipeful of tobacco from a tar-black plug. "It come from Joe's gun. I've +hunted with him enough to know his bullet. He fired through the window of +the cabin. If it hadn't been for the broom handle—just the end of it +stickin' up"—he shrugged his gaunt shoulders as he stuffed the tobacco +into the bowl of his pipe—"I'd been dead!" he finished tersely.</p> + +<p>"You mean that Joe——"</p> + +<p>"Has sold himself to Culver Rann!" exclaimed MacDonald. He sprang to his +feet. For the first time he showed excitement. His eyes blazed with +repressed rage. A hand gripped the barrel of his rifle as if to crush it. +"He's sold himself to Culver Rann!" he repeated. "He's sold him our secret. +He's told him where the gold is, Johnny! He's bargained to guide Rann an' +his crowd to it! An' first—they're goin' to kill <i>us!</i>"</p> + +<p>With a low whistle Aldous took off his hat. He ran a hand through his +blond-gray hair. Then he replaced his hat and drew two cigars from his +pocket. MacDonald accepted one. Aldous' eyes were glittering; his lips were +smiling.</p> + +<p>"They are, are they, Donald? They're going to kill us?"</p> + +<p>"They're goin' to try," amended the old hunter, with another curious +chuckle in his ghostly beard. "They're goin' to try, Johnny. That's why I +told you not to go to the cabin. I wasn't expecting you for a week. +To-morrow I was goin' to start on a hike for Miette. I been watching +through my telescope from the mountain up there. I see Quade come in this +morning on a hand-car. Twice I see him and Rann together. Then I saw +Blackton hike out into the bush. I was worrying about you an' wondered if +he had any word. So I laid for him on the trail—an' I guess it was lucky. +I ain't been able to set my eyes on Joe. I looked for hours through the +telescope—an' I couldn't find him. He's gone, or Culver Rann is keeping +him out of sight."</p> + +<p>For several moments Aldous looked at his companion in silence. Then he +said:</p> + +<p>"You're sure of all this, are you, Donald? You have good proof—that Joe +has turned traitor?"</p> + +<p>"I've been suspicious of him ever since we come down from the North," +spoke MacDonald slowly. "I watched him—night an' day. I was afraid he'd +get a grubstake an' start back alone. Then I saw him with Culver Rann. It +was late. I heard 'im leave the shack, an' I followed. He went to Rann's +house—an' Rann was expecting him. Three times I followed him to Culver +Rann's house. I knew what was happening then, an' I planned to get him back +in the mountains on a hunt, an' kill him. But I was too late. The shot came +through the window. Then he disappeared. An'—Culver Rann is getting an +outfit together! Twenty head of horses, with grub for three months!"</p> + +<p>"The deuce! And our outfit? Is it ready?"</p> + +<p>"To the last can o' beans!"</p> + +<p>"And your plan, Donald?"</p> + +<p>All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as he +came nearer to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Get out of Tête Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice that +quivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into the +mountains with our outfit—far enough back—and then wait!"</p> + +<p>"Wait?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—wait. If they follow us—<i>fight!</i>"</p> + +<p>Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily they +looked into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>Then John Aldous spoke:</p> + +<p>"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night—it is +impossible."</p> + +<p>The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop came +into MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despair +settled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's hand +more firmly.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight," he said quickly. "Only we've +got to plan differently. Sit down, Donald. Something has been happening to +me. And I'm going to tell you about it."</p> + +<p>A little back from the fire they seated themselves, and Aldous told Donald +MacDonald about Joanne.</p> + +<p>He began at the beginning, from the moment his eyes first saw her as she +entered Quade's place. He left nothing out. He told how she had come into +his life, and how he intended to fight to keep her from going out of it. He +told of his fears, his hopes, the mystery of their coming to Tête Jaune, +and how Quade had preceded them to plot the destruction of the woman he +loved. He described her as she had stood that morning, like a radiant +goddess in the sun; and when he came to that he leaned nearer, and said +softly:</p> + +<p>"And when I saw her there, Donald, with her hair streaming about her like +that, I thought of the time you told me of that other woman—the woman of +years and years ago—and how you, Donald, used to look upon her in the sun, +and rejoice in your possession. Her spirit has been with you always. You +have told me how for nearly fifty years you have followed it over these +mountains. And this woman means as much to me. If she should die to-night +her spirit would live with me in that same way. You understand, Donald. I +can't go into the mountains to-night. God knows when I can go—now. But +you——"</p> + +<p>MacDonald had risen. He turned his face to the black wall of the forest. +Aldous thought he saw a sudden quiver pass through the great, bent +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"And I," said MacDonald slowly, "will have the horses ready for you at +dawn. We will fight this other fight—later."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br> + +<p>For an hour after Donald MacDonald had pledged himself to accompany Joanne +and Aldous on their pilgrimage to the grave in the Saw Tooth Range the two +men continued to discuss the unusual complications in which they had +suddenly become involved, and at the same time prepared themselves a supper +of bacon and coffee over the fire. They agreed upon a plan of action with +one exception. Aldous was determined to return to the town, arguing there +was a good strategic reason for showing himself openly and without fear. +MacDonald opposed this apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Better lay quiet until morning," he expostulated. "You'd better listen to +me, an' do that, Johnny. I've got something in my shoulder that tells me +you'd better!"</p> + +<p>In the face of the old hunter's misgiving, Aldous prepared to leave. It was +nearly ten o'clock when he set back in the direction of Tête Jaune, Donald +accompanying him as far as the moonlit amphitheatre in the forest. There +they separated, and Aldous went on alone.</p> + +<p>He believed that Joanne and the Blacktons would half expect him to return +to the bungalow after he had seen MacDonald. He was sure that Blackton, at +least, would look for him until quite late. The temptation to take +advantage of their hospitality was great, especially as it would bring him +in the company of Joanne again. On the other hand, he was certain that this +first night in Tête Jaune held very large possibilities for him. The +detective instinct in him was roused, and his adventurous spirit was alive +for action. First of all, he wanted proof of what MacDonald had told him. +That an attempt had been made to assassinate the old mountaineer he did not +for an instant doubt. But had Joe DeBar, the half-breed, actually betrayed +them? Had he sold himself to Culver Rann, and did Rann hold the key to the +secret expedition they had planned into the North? He did not, at first, +care to see Rann. He made up his mind that if he did meet him he would stop +and chat casually with him, as though he had heard and seen nothing to +rouse his suspicions. He particularly wanted to find DeBar; and, next to +DeBar, Quade himself.</p> + +<p>The night carnival was at its height when Aldous re-entered the long, +lighted street. From ten until eleven was the liveliest hour of the night. +Even the restaurants and soup-kitchens were crowded then. He strolled +slowly down the street until he came to a little crowd gathered about the +bear equestrienne. The big canvas dance-hall a few doors away had lured +from her most of her admirers by this time, and Aldous found no difficulty +in reaching the inner circle. He looked first for the half-breed. Failing +to find him, he looked at the woman, who stood only a few feet from him. +Her glossy black curls were a bit dishevelled, and the excitement of the +night had added to the vivid colouring of her rouged lips and cheeks. Her +body was sleek and sinuous in its silken vesture; arms and shoulders were +startlingly white; and when she turned, facing Aldous, her black eyes +flashed fires of deviltry and allurement.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stared into her face. If he had not been looking closely he +would not have caught the swift change that shot into the siren-like play +of her orbs. It was almost instantaneous. Her slow-travelling glance +stopped as she saw him. He saw the quick intake of her breath, a sudden +compression of her lips, the startled, searching scrutiny of a pair of eyes +from which, for a moment, all the languor and coquetry of her trade were +gone. Then she passed him, smiling again, nodding, sweeping a hand and arm +effectively through her handsome curls as she flung a shapely limb over the +broad back of the bear. In a garish sort of way the woman was beautiful, +and this night, as on all others, her beauty had nearly filled the silken +coin-bag suspended from her neck. As she rode down the street Aldous +recalled Blackton's words: She was a friend of Culver Rann's. He wondered +if this fact accounted for the strangeness of the look she had given him.</p> + +<p>He passed on to the dance-hall. It was crowded, mostly with men. But here +and there, like so many faces peering forth from living graves, he saw the +Little Sisters of Tête Jaune Cache. Outnumbered ten to one, their voices +rang out in shrill banter and delirious laughter above the rumble of men. +At the far end, a fiddle, a piano, and a clarinet were squealing forth +music. The place smelled strongly of whisky. It always smelled of that, for +most of the men who sought amusement here got their whisky in spite of the +law. There were rock-hogs from up the line, and rock-hogs from down the +line, men of all nationalities and of almost all ages; teamsters, +trail-cutters, packers, and rough-shod navvies; men whose daily task was to +play with dynamite and giant powder; steel-men, tie-men, and men who +drilled into the hearts of mountains. More than once John Aldous had looked +upon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wild +revelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia would +again be the builders of an empire. The thin, hollow-cheeked faces that +passed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mind +the strength of the picture. They were but moths, fluttering about in their +own doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achieve +destruction.</p> + +<p>For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, and +nowhere did he see DeBar. He dropped out, and continued leisurely along the +lighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white striped +soup-tent. At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as the +dance-hall. Aldous knew Lovak, the Hungarian.</p> + +<p>Through Lovak he had found the key that had unlocked for him many curious +and interesting things associated with that powerful Left Arm of the Empire +Builders—the Slav. Except for a sprinkling of Germans, a few Italians, and +now and then a Greek or Swiss, only the Slavs filled Lovak's place!--Slavs +from all the Russias and the nations south: the quick and chattering Polak; +the thick-set, heavy-jowled Croatian; the silent and dangerous-eyed +Lithuanian. All came in for Lovak's wonderful soup, which he sold in big +yellow bowls at ten cents a bowl—soup of barley, rice, and cabbage, of +beef and mutton, of everything procurable out of which soup could be made, +and, whether of meat or vegetable, smelling to heaven of garlic.</p> + +<p>Fifty men were eating when Aldous went in, devouring their soup with the +utter abandon and joy of the Galician, so that the noise they made was like +the noise of fifty pigs at fifty troughs. Now and then DeBar, the +half-breed, came here for soup, and Aldous searched quickly for him. He was +turning to go when his friend, Lovak, came to him. No, Lovak had not seen +DeBar. But he had news. That day the authorities—the police—had +confiscated twenty dressed hogs, and in each porcine carcass they had found +four-quart bottles of whisky, artistically imbedded in the leaf-lard fat. +The day before those same authorities had confiscated a barrel of +"kerosene." They were becoming altogether too officious, Lovak thought.</p> + +<p>Aldous went on. He looked in at a dozen restaurants, and twice as many +soft-drink emporiums, where phonographs were worked until they were cracked +and dizzy. He stopped at a small tobacco shop, and entered to buy himself +some cigars. There was one other customer ahead of him. He was lighting a +cigar, and the light of a big hanging lamp flashed on a diamond ring. Over +his sputtering match his eyes met those of John Aldous. They were dark +eyes, neither brown nor black, but dark, with the keenness and strange +glitter of a serpent's. He wore a small, clipped moustache; his hands were +white; he was a man whom one might expect to possess the <i>sang froid</i> of a +devil in any emergency. For barely an instant he hesitated in the operation +of lighting his cigar as he saw Aldous. Then he nodded.</p> + +<p>"Hello, John Aldous," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Culver Rann," replied Aldous.</p> + +<p>For a moment his nerves had tingled—the next they were like steel. Culver +Rann's teeth gleamed. Aldous smiled back. They were cold, hard, rapierlike +glances. Each understood now that the other was a deadly enemy, for Quade's +enemies were also Culver Rann's. Aldous moved carelessly to the glass case +in which were the cigars. With the barest touch of one of his slim white +hands Culver Rann stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Have one of mine, Aldous," he invited, opening a silver case filled with +cigars. "We've never had the pleasure of smoking together, you know."</p> + +<p>"Never," said Aldous, accepting one of the cigars. "Thanks."</p> + +<p>As he lighted it, their eyes met again. Aldous turned to the case.</p> + +<p>"Half a dozen 'Noblemen,'" he said to the man behind the counter; then, to +Rann: "Will you have one on me?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure," said Rann. He added, smiling straight into the other's +eyes, "What are you doing up here, Aldous? After local colour?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. The place interests me."</p> + +<p>"It's a lively town."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly. And I understand that you've played an important part in the +making of it," replied Aldous carelessly.</p> + +<p>For a flash Rann's eyes darkened, and his mouth hardened, then his white +teeth gleamed again. He had caught the insinuation, and he had scarcely +been able to ward off the shot.</p> + +<p>"I've tried to do my small share," he admitted. "If you're after local +colour for your books, Aldous, I possibly may be able to assist you—if +you're in town long."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly you could," said Aldous. "I think you could tell me a great +deal that I would like to know, Rann. But—will you?"</p> + +<p>There was a direct challenge in his coldly smiling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I shall be quite pleased to do so," said Rann. +"Especially—if you are long in town." There was an odd emphasis on those +last words.</p> + +<p>He moved toward the door.</p> + +<p>"And if you are here very long," he added, his eyes gleaming significantly, +"it is possible you may have experiences of your own which would make very +interesting reading if they ever got into print. Good-night, Aldous!"</p> + +<p>For two or three minutes after Rann had gone Aldous loitered in the tobacco +shop. Then he went out. All at once it struck him that he should have kept +his eyes on Quade's partner. He should have followed him. With the hope of +seeing him again he walked up and down the street. It was eleven o'clock +when he went into Big Ben's pool-room. Five minutes later he came out just +as a woman hurried past him, carrying with her a strong scent of perfume. +It was the Lady of the Bear. She was in a street dress now, her glossy +curls still falling loose about her—probably homeward bound after her +night's harvest. It struck Aldous that the hour was early for her +retirement, and that she seemed somewhat in a hurry.</p> + +<p>The woman was going in the direction of Rann's big log bungalow, which was +built well out of town toward the river. She had not seen him as he stood +in the pool-room doorway, and before she had passed out of sight he was +following her. There were a dozen branch trails and "streets" on the way to +Rann's, and into the gloom of some one of these the woman disappeared, so +that Aldous lost her entirely. He was not disappointed when he found she +had left the main trail.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he stood close to Rann's house. From the side on which +he had approached it was dark. No gleam of light showed through the +windows. Slowly he walked around the building, and stopped suddenly on the +opposite side. Here a closely drawn curtain was illuminated by a glow from +within. Cautiously Aldous made his way along the log wall of the house +until he came to the window. At one side the curtain had caught against +some object, leaving perhaps a quarter of an inch of space through which +the light shone. Aldous brought his eyes on a level with this space.</p> + +<p>A half of the room came within his vision. Directly in front of him, +lighted by a curiously shaped iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, was a +dull red mahogany desk-table. At one side of this, partly facing him, was +Culver Rann. Opposite him sat Quade.</p> + +<p>Rann was speaking, while Quade, with his bullish shoulders hunched forward +and his fleshy red neck, rolling over the collar of his coat, leaned across +the table in a tense and listening attitude. With his eyes glued to the +aperture, Aldous strained his ears to catch what Rann was saying. He heard +only the low and unintelligible monotone of his voice. A mocking smile was +accompanying Rann's words. To-night, as at all times, this hawk who preyed +upon human lives was immaculate. In all ways but one he was the antithesis +of the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyed +carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in +his cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little +moustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands, +as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, on +the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman. +Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain +and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous +men in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool and +suave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quade +lacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminate +immaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. He +struck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled. +And John Aldous slipped away from the window.</p> + +<p>His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket that +held his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behind +Rann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He was +sure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald—and +Joanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would be +three quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door was +an inspiration.</p> + +<p>Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the door +and found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch at +a time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was a +second closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. He +closed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of air +or a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, he +began to open the second door.</p> + +<p>An inch at first, then two inches, three inches—a foot—he worked the door +inward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to the +floor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open door +he saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted a +fresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with a +banter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating.</p> + +<p>"You amaze me," Rann was saying. "You amaze me utterly. You've gone +mad—mad as a rock-rabbit, Quade! Do you mean to tell me you're on the +square when you offer to turn over a half of your share in the gold if I +help you to get this woman?"</p> + +<p>"I do," replied Quade thickly. "I mean just that! And we'll put it down in +black an' white—here, now. You fix the papers, same as any other deal, and +I'll sign!"</p> + +<p>For a moment Culver Rann did not reply. He leaned back in his chair, thrust +the thumbs of his white hands in his vest, and sent a cloud of smoke above +his head. Then he looked at Quade, a gleam of humour in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nothing like a woman for turning a man's head soft," he chuckled. "Nothing +in the world like it, 'pon my word, Quade. First it was DeBar. I don't +believe we'd got him if he hadn't seen Marie riding her bear. Marie and +her curls and her silk tights, Quade—s'elp me, it wouldn't have surprised +me so much if you'd fallen in love with <i>her!</i> And over this other woman +you're as mad as Joe is over Marie. At first sight he was ready to sell his +soul for her. So—I gave Marie to him. And now, for some other woman, +you're just as anxious to surrender a half of your share of what we've +bought through Marie. Good heaven, man, if you were in love with Marie——"</p> + +<p>"Damn Marie!" growled Quade. "I know the time when you were bugs over her +yourself, Rann. It wasn't so long ago. If I'd looked at her then——"</p> + +<p>"Of course, not then," interrupted Rann smilingly. "That would have been +impolite, Quade, and not at all in agreement with the spirit of our +brotherly partnership. And, you must admit, Marie is a devilish +good-looking girl. I've surrendered her only for a brief spell to DeBar. +After he has taken us to the gold—why, the poor idiot will probably have +been sufficiently happy to——"</p> + +<p>He paused, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"—go into cold storage," finished Quade.</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>Again Quade leaned over the table, and for a moment there was silence, a +silence in which Aldous thought the pounding of his heart must betray him. +He lay motionless on the floor. The nails of his fingers dug into the bare +wood. Under the palm of his right hand lay his automatic.</p> + +<p>Then Quade spoke. There must have been more in his face than was spoken in +his words, for Culver Rann took the cigar from between his lips, and a +light that was deadly serious slowly filled his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Rann, we'll talk business!" Quade's voice was harsh, deep, and quivering. +"I want this woman. I may be a fool, but I'm going to have her. I might get +her alone, but we've always done things together—an' so I made you that +proposition. It ain't a hard job. It's one of the easiest jobs we ever had. +Only that fool of a writer is in the way—an' he's got to go anyway. We've +got to get rid of him on account of the gold, him an' MacDonald. We've got +that planned. An' I've showed you how we can get the woman, an' no one ever +know. Are you in on this with me?"</p> + +<p>Culver Rann's reply was as quick and sharp as a pistol shot.</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>For another moment there was silence. Then Quade asked:</p> + +<p>"Any need of writin', Culver?"</p> + +<p>"No. There can't be a written agreement in this deal because—it's +dangerous. There won't be much said about old MacDonald. But questions, a +good many of them, will be asked about this man Aldous. As for the +woman——" Rann shrugged his shoulders with a sinister smile. "She will +disappear like the others," he finished. "No one will ever get on to that. +If she doesn't make a pal like Marie—after a time, why——"</p> + +<p>Again Aldous saw that peculiar shrug of his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Quade's head nodded on his thick neck.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I agree to that," he said. "After a time. But most of 'em have +come over, ain't they, Culver? Eh? Most of 'em have," he chuckled coarsely. +"When you see her you won't call me a fool for going dippy over her, +Culver. And she'll come round all right after she's gone through what we've +got planned for her. I'll make a pal of her!"</p> + +<p>In that moment, as he listened to the gloating passion and triumph in +Quade's brutal voice, something broke in the brain of John Aldous. It +filled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought or +plan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a single +desire—the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged through +him, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth in +animal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that the +others did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hear +the slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol.</p> + +<p>For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensed +the words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to kill +them. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that he +might kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. He +wanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment when +they would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. He +would give them that one moment of life—just that one. Then he would kill.</p> + +<p>With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself +there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver +Rann. The latter sat stunned. Not the movement of a finger broke the +stonelike immobility of his attitude. His eyes were like two dark coals +gazing steadily as a serpent's over Quade's hunched shoulders and bowed +head. Quade seemed as if frozen on the point of speaking to Rann. One hand +was still poised a foot above the table. It was he who broke the tense and +lifeless tableau.</p> + +<p>Slowly, almost as slowly as Aldous had opened the door, Quade turned his +head, and stared into the coldly smiling face of the man whom he had +plotted to kill, and saw the gleaming pistol in his hand. A curious look +overcame his pouchy face, a look not altogether of terror—but of shock. He +knew Aldous had heard. He accepted in an instant, and perceptibly, the +significance of the pistol in his hand. But Culver Rann sat like a rock. +His face expressed nothing. Not for the smallest part of a second had he +betrayed any emotion that might be throbbing within him. In spite of +himself Aldous admired the man's unflinching nerve.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, gentlemen!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Then Rann leaned slowly forward over the table. One hand rose to his +moustache. It was his right hand. The other was invisible. Quade pulled +himself together and stepped to the end of the table, his two empty hands +in front of him. Aldous, still smiling, faced Rann's glittering eyes and +covered him with his automatic. Culver Rann twisted the end of his +moustache, and smiled back.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said. "Is it checkmate?"</p> + +<p>"It is," replied Aldous. "I've promised you scoundrels one minute of life. +I guess that minute is about up."</p> + +<p>The last word was scarcely out of his mouth when the room was in +darkness—a darkness so complete and sudden that for an instant his hand +faltered, and in that instant he heard the overturning of a chair and the +falling of a body. Twice his automatic sent a lightning-flash of fire where +Culver Rann had sat; twice it spat threadlike ribbons of flame through the +blackness where Quade had stood. He knew what had happened, and also what +to expect if he lost out now. The curiously shaped iron lamp had concealed +an electric bulb, and Rann had turned off the switch-key under the table. +He had no further time to think. An object came hurtling through the thick +gloom and fell with terrific force on his outstretched pistol arm. His +automatic flew from his hand and struck against the wall. Unarmed, he +sprang back toward the open door—full into the arms of Quade!</p> + +<p>Aldous knew that it was Quade and not Culver Rann, and he struck out with +all the force he could gather in a short-arm blow. His fist landed against +Quade's thick neck. Again and again he struck, and Quade's grip loosened. +In another moment he would have reached the door if Rann had not caught him +from behind. Never had Aldous felt the clutch of hands like those of the +womanish hands of Culver Rann. It was as if sinuous fingers of steel were +burying themselves in his flesh. Before they found his throat he flung +himself backward with all his weight, and with a tremendous effort freed +himself.</p> + +<p>Both Quade and Culver Rann now stood between him and the door. He could +hear Quade's deep, panting breath. Rann, as before, was silent as death. +Then he heard the door close. A key clicked in the lock. He was trapped.</p> + +<p>"Turn on the light, Billy," he heard Rann say in a quiet, unexcited voice. +"We've got this house-breaker cornered, and he's lost his gun. Turn on the +light—and I'll make one shot do the business!"</p> + +<p>Aldous heard Quade moving, but he was not coming toward the table. +Somewhere in the room was another switch connected with the iron lamp, and +Aldous felt a curious chill shoot up his spine. Without seeing through that +pitch darkness of the room he sensed the fact that Culver Rann was standing +with his back against the locked door, a revolver in his hand. And he knew +that Quade, feeling his way along the wall, held a revolver in his hand. +Men like these two did not go unarmed. The instant the light was turned on +they would do their work. As he stood, silent as Culver Rann, he realized +the tables were turned. In that moment's madness roused by Quade's gloating +assurance of possessing Joanne he had revealed himself like a fool, and now +he was about to reap the whirlwind of his folly. Deliberately he had given +himself up to his enemies. They, too, would be fools if they allowed him to +escape alive.</p> + +<p>He heard Quade stop. His thick hand was fumbling along the wall. Aldous +guessed that he was feeling for the switch. He almost fancied he could see +Rann's revolver levelled at him through the darkness. In that thrilling +moment his mind worked with the swiftness of a powder flash. One of his +hands touched the edge of the desk-table, and he knew that he was standing +directly opposite the curtained window, perhaps six feet from it. If he +flung himself through the window the curtain would save him from being cut +to pieces.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the idea of escape come to him than he had acted. A flood of +light filled the room as his body crashed through the glass. He heard a +cry—a single shot—as he struck the ground. He gathered himself up and ran +swiftly. Fifty yards away he stopped, and looked back. Quade and Rann were +in the window. Then they disappeared, and a moment later the room was again +in gloom.</p> + +<p>For a second time Aldous hurried in the direction of MacDonald's camp. He +knew that, in spite of the protecting curtain, the glass had cut him. He +felt the warm blood dripping over his face; both hands were wet with it, +The arm on which he had received the blow from the unseen object in the +room gave him considerable pain, and he had slightly sprained an ankle in +his leap through the window, so that he limped a little. But his mind was +clear—so clear that in the face of his physical discomfort he caught +himself laughing once or twice as he made his way along the trail.</p> + +<p>Aldous was not of an ordinary type. To a curious and superlative degree he +could appreciate a defeat as well as a triumph. His adventures had been a +part of a life in which he had not always expected to win, and in +to-night's game he admitted that he had been hopelessly and ridiculously +beaten. Tragedy, to him, was a first cousin of comedy; to-night he had set +out to kill, and, instead of killing, he had run like a jack-rabbit for +cover. Also, in that same half-hour Rann and Quade had been sure of him, +and he had given them the surprise of their lives by his catapultic +disappearance through the window. There was something ludicrous about it +all—something that, to him, at least, had turned a possible tragedy into a +very good comedy-drama.</p> + +<p>Nor was Aldous blind to the fact that he had made an utter fool of himself, +and that the consequences of his indiscretion might prove extremely +serious. Had he listened to the conspirators without betraying himself he +would have possessed an important advantage over them. The knowledge he had +gained from overhearing their conversation would have made it comparatively +easy for MacDonald and him to strike them a perhaps fatal blow through the +half-breed DeBar. As the situation stood now, he figured that Quade and +Culver Rann held the advantage. Whatever they had planned to do they would +put into quick execution. They would not lose a minute.</p> + +<p>It was not for himself that Aldous feared. Neither did he fear for Joanne. +Every drop of red fighting blood in him was ready for further action, and +he was determined that Quade should find no opportunity of accomplishing +any scheme he might have against Joanne's person. On the other hand, unless +they could head off DeBar, he believed that Culver Rann's chances of +reaching the gold ahead of them would grow better with the passing of each +hour. To protect Joanne from Quade he must lose no time. MacDonald would +be in the same predicament, while Rann, assisted by as many rascals of his +own colour as he chose to take with him, would be free to carry out the +other part of the conspirators' plans.</p> + +<p>The longer he thought of the mess he had stirred up the more roundly Aldous +cursed his imprudence. And this mess, as he viewed it in these cooler +moments, was even less disturbing than the thought of what might have +happened had he succeeded in his intention of killing both Quade and Rann. +Twenty times as he made his way through the darkness toward MacDonald's +camp he told himself that he must have been mad. To have killed Rann or +Quade in self-defence, or in open fight, would have been playing the game +with a shadow of mountain law behind it. But he had invaded Rann's home. +Had he killed them he would have had but little more excuse than a +house-breaker or a suspicious husband might have had. Tête Jaune would not +countenance cold-blooded shooting, even of criminals. He should have taken +old Donald's advice and waited until they were in the mountains. An +unpleasant chill ran through him as he thought of the narrowness of his +double escape.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, John Aldous found MacDonald awake when he arrived at the +camp in the thickly timbered coulee. He was preparing a midnight cup of +coffee over a fire that was burning cheerfully between two big rocks. +Purposely Aldous stepped out into the full illumination of it. The old +hunter looked up. For a moment he stared into the blood-smeared face of his +friend; then he sprang to his feet, and caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I got it," nodded Aldous cheerfully. "I went out for it, Mac, and I +got it! Get out your emergency kit, will you? I rather fancy I need a +little patching up."</p> + +<p>MacDonald uttered not a word. From the balsam lean-to he brought out a +small rubber bag and a towel. Into a canvas wash-basin he then turned a +half pail of cold water, and Aldous got on his knees beside this. Not once +did the old mountaineer speak while he was washing the blood from Aldous' +face and hands. There was a shallow two-inch cut in his forehead, two +deeper ones in his right cheek, and a gouge in his chin. There were a dozen +cuts on his hands, none of them serious. Before he had finished MacDonald +had used two thirds of a roll of court-plaster.</p> + +<p>Then he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You can soak them off in the morning," he said. "If you don't, the lady'll +think yo're a red Indian on the warpath. Now, yo' fool, what have yo' gone +an' done?"</p> + +<p>Aldous told him what had happened, and before MacDonald could utter an +expression of his feelings he admitted that he was an inexcusable idiot and +that nothing MacDonald might say could drive that fact deeper home.</p> + +<p>"If I'd come out after hearing what they had to say, we could have got +DeBar at the end of a gun and settled the whole business," he finished. "As +it is, we're in a mess."</p> + +<p>MacDonald stretched his gaunt gray frame before the fire. He picked up his +long rifle, and fingered the lock.</p> + +<p>"You figger they'll get away with DeBar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-night."</p> + +<p>MacDonald threw open the breech of his single-loader and drew out a +cartridge as long as his finger. Replacing it, he snapped the breech shut.</p> + +<p>"Don't know as I'm pertic'lar sad over what's happened," he said, with a +curious look at Aldous. "We might have got out of this without what you +call strenu'us trouble. Now—it's <i>fight!</i> It's goin' to be a matter of +guns an' bullets, Johnny—back in the mountains. You figger Rann an' the +snake of a half-breed'll get the start of us. Let 'em have a start! They've +got two hundred miles to go, an' two hundred miles to come back. Only—they +won't come back!"</p> + +<p>Under his shaggy brows the old hunter's eyes gleamed as he looked at +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow we'll go to the grave," he added. "Yo're cur'ous to know what's +goin' to happen when we find that grave, Johnny. So am I. I hope——"</p> + +<p>"What do you hope?"</p> + +<p>MacDonald shook his great gray head in the dying firelight.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to bed, Johnny," he rumbled softly in his beard. "It's gettin' +late."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br> + +<p>To sleep after the excitement through which he had passed, and with +to-morrow's uncertainties ahead of him, seemed to Aldous a physical +impossibility. Yet he slept, and soundly. It was MacDonald who roused him +three hours later. They prepared a quick breakfast over a small fire, and +Aldous heated water in which he soaked his face until the strips of +court-plaster peeled off. The scratches were lividly evident, but, inasmuch +as he had a choice of but two evils, he preferred that Joanne should see +these instead of the abominable disfigurement of court-plaster strips.</p> + +<p>Old Donald took one look at him through half-closed eyes.</p> + +<p>"You look as though you'd come out of a tussle with a grizzly," he grinned. +"Want some fresh court-plaster?"</p> + +<p>"And look as though I'd come out of a circus—no!" retorted Aldous. "I'm +invited to breakfast at the Blacktons', Mac. How the devil am I going to +get out of it?"</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em you're sick," chuckled the old hunter, who saw something funny in +the appearance of Aldous' face. "Good Lord, how I'd liked to have seen you +come through that window—in daylight!"</p> + +<p>Aldous led off in the direction of the trail. MacDonald followed close +behind him. It was dark—that almost ebon-black hour that precedes summer +dawn in the northern mountains. The moon had long ago disappeared in the +west. When a few minutes later they paused in the little opening on the +trail Aldous could just make out the shadowy form of the old mountaineer.</p> + +<p>"I lost my gun when I jumped through the window, Mac," he explained. +"There's another thirty-eight automatic in my kit at the corral. Bring +that, and the .303 with the gold-bead sight—and plenty of ammunition. +You'd better take that forty-four hip-cannon of yours along, as well as +your rifle. Wish I could civilize you, Mac, so you'd carry one of the +Savage automatics instead of that old brain-storm of fifty years ago!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald gave a grunt of disgust that was like the whoof of a bear.</p> + +<p>"It's done business all that time," he growled good humouredly. "An' it +ain't ever made me jump through any window as I remember of, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"Enough," said Aldous, and in the gloom he gripped the other's hand. +"You'll be there, Mac—in front of the Blacktons'—just as it's growing +light?"</p> + +<p>"That means in three quarters of an hour, Johnny. I'll be there. Three +saddle-horses and a pack."</p> + +<p>Where the trail divided they separated. Aldous went directly to the +Blacktons'. As he had expected, the bungalow was alight. In the kitchen he +saw Tom, the Oriental cook, busy preparing breakfast. Blackton himself, +comfortably dressed in duck trousers and a smoking-jacket, and puffing on a +pipe, opened the front door for him. The pipe almost fell from his mouth +when he saw his friend's excoriated face.</p> + +<p>"What in the name of Heaven!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"An accident," explained Aldous, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. +"Blackton, I want you to do me another good turn. Tell the ladies anything +you can think of—something reasonable. The truth is, I went through a +window—a window with plenty of glass in it. Now how the deuce can I +explain going through a window like a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>With folded arms, Blackton inspected him thoughtfully for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You can't," he said. "But I don't think you went through a window. I +believe you fell over a cliff and were caught in an armful of wait-a-bit +bushes. They're devilish those wait-a-bits!"</p> + +<p>They shook hands.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to blow up with curiosity again," said Blackton. "But I'll play +your game, Aldous."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Joanne and Peggy Blackton joined them. He saw again the +quick flush of pleasure in Joanne's lovely face when she entered the room. +It changed instantly when she saw the livid cuts in his skin. She came to +him quickly, and gave him her hand. Her lips trembled, but she did not +speak. Blackton accepted this as the psychological moment.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of a man who'll wander off a trail, tumble over a ledge, +and get mixed up in a bunch of wait-a-bit like <i>that?</i>" he demanded, +laughing as though he thought it a mighty good joke on Aldous. "Wait-a-bit +thorns are worse than razors, Miss Gray," he elucidated further. +"They're—they're perfectly devilish, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed they <i>are</i>," emphasized Peggy Blackton, whom her husband had given +a quick look and a quicker nudge, "They're dreadful!"</p> + +<p>Looking straight into Joanne's eyes, Aldous guessed that she did not +believe, and scarcely heard, the Blacktons.</p> + +<p>"I had a presentiment something was going to happen," she said, smiling at +him. "I'm glad it was no worse than that."</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hand, and turned to Peggy Blackton. To John's delight she +had arranged her wonderful shining hair in a braid that rippled in a thick, +sinuous rope of brown and gold below her hips. Peggy Blackton had in some +way found a riding outfit for her slender figure, a typical mountain +outfit, with short divided skirt, loose blouse, and leggings. She had never +looked more beautiful to him. Her night's rest had restored the colour to +her soft cheeks and curved lips; and in her eyes, when she looked at him +again, there was a strange, glowing light that thrilled him. During the +next half-hour he almost forgot his telltale disfigurements. At breakfast +Paul and Peggy Blackton were beautifully oblivious of them. Once or twice +he saw in Joanne's clear eyes a look which made him suspect that she had +guessed very near to the truth.</p> + +<p>MacDonald was prompt to the minute. Gray day, with its bars of golden tint, +was just creeping over the shoulders of the eastern mountains when he rode +up to the Blacktons'. The old hunter was standing close to the horse which +Joanne was to ride when Aldous brought her out. Joanne gave him her hand, +and for a moment MacDonald bowed his shaggy head over it. Five minutes +later they were trailing up the rough wagon-road, MacDonald in the lead, +and Joanne and Aldous behind, with the single pack horse between.</p> + +<p>For several miles this wagon-trail reached back through the thick timber +that filled the bottom between the two ranges of mountains. They had +travelled but a short distance when Joanne drew her horse close in beside +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I want to know what happened last night," she said. "Will you tell me?"</p> + +<p>Aldous met her eyes frankly. He had made up his mind that she would believe +only the truth, and he had decided to tell her at least a part of that. He +would lay his whole misadventure to the gold. Leaning over the pommel of +his saddle he recounted the occurrences of the night before, beginning with +his search for Quade and the half-breed, and his experience with the woman +who rode the bear. He left out nothing—except all mention of herself. He +described the events lightly, not omitting those parts which appealed to +him as being very near to comedy.</p> + +<p>In spite of his effort to rob the affair of its serious aspect his recital +had a decided effect upon Joanne. For some time after he had finished one +of her small gloved hands clutched tightly at the pommel of her saddle; her +breath came more quickly; the colour had ebbed from her cheeks, and she +looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes from meeting his. He began to +believe that in some way she was convinced he had not told her the whole +truth, and was possibly displeased, when she again turned her face to him. +It was tense and white. In it was the fear which, for a few minutes, she +had tried to keep from him.</p> + +<p>"They would have killed you?" she breathed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they would only have given me a good scare," said Aldous. "But I +didn't have time to wait and find out. I was very anxious to see MacDonald +again. So I went through the window!"</p> + +<p>"No, they would have killed you," said Joanne. "Perhaps I did wrong, Mr. +Aldous, but I confided—a little—in Peggy Blackton last night. She seemed +like a sister. I love her. And I wanted to confide in some one—a woman, +like her. It wasn't much, but I told her what happened at Miette: about +you, and Quade, and how I saw him at the station, and again—later, +following us. And then—she told me! Perhaps she didn't know how it was +frightening me, but she told me all about these men—Quade and Culver Rann. +And now I'm more afraid of Culver Rann than Quade, and I've never seen him. +They can't hurt me. But I'm afraid for you!"</p> + +<p>At her words a joy that was like the heat of a fire leaped into his brain.</p> + +<p>"For me?" he said. "Afraid—for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why shouldn't I be, if I know that you are in danger?" she asked +quietly. "And now, since last night, and the discovery of your secret by +these men, I am terrified. Quade has followed you here. Mrs. Blackton told +me that Culver Rann was many times more dangerous than Quade. Only a little +while ago you told me you did not care for riches. Then why do you go for +this gold? Why do you run the risk? Why——"</p> + +<p>He waited. The colour was flooding back into her face in an excited, +feverish flush. Her blue eyes were dark as thunder-clouds in their +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand?" she went on. "It was because of me that you +incurred this deadly enmity of Quade's. If anything happens to you, I shall +hold myself responsible!"</p> + +<p>"No, you will not be responsible," replied Aldous, steadying the tremble in +his voice. "Besides, nothing is going to happen. But you don't know how +happy you have made me by taking this sort of an interest in me. It—it +feels good," he laughed.</p> + +<p>For a few paces he dropped behind her, where the overhead spruce boughs +left but the space for a single rider between. Then, again, he drew up +close beside her.</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you about this gold," he said. "It isn't the gold +we're going after."</p> + +<p>He leaned over until his hand rested on her saddle-bow.</p> + +<p>"Look ahead," he went on, a curious softness in his voice. "Look at +MacDonald!"</p> + +<p>The first shattered rays of the sun were breaking over the mountains and +reflecting their glow in the valley. Donald MacDonald had lifted his face +to the sunrise; out from under his battered hat the morning breeze sweeping +through the valley of the Frazer tossed his shaggy hair; his great owl-gray +beard swept his breast; his broad, gaunt shoulders were hunched a little +forward as he looked into the east. Again Aldous looked into Joanne's eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me north, Ladygray. And +it's not the gold that is taking MacDonald. It is strange, almost +unbelievedly strange—what I am going to tell you. To-day we are seeking a +grave—for you. And up there, two hundred miles in the north, another grave +is calling MacDonald. I am going with him. It just happens that the gold is +there. You wouldn't guess that for more than forty years that blessed old +wanderer ahead of us has loved a dead woman, would you? You wouldn't think +that for nearly half a century, year in and year out, winter and summer +alike, he has tramped the northern mountains—a lost spirit with but one +desire in life—to find at last her resting-place? And yet it is so, +Ladygray. I guess I am the only living creature to whom he has opened his +heart in many a long year. A hundred times beside our campfire I have +listened to him, until at last his story seems almost to be a part of my +own. He may be a little mad, but it is a beautiful madness."</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>"Yes," whispered Joanne. "Go on—John Aldous."</p> + +<p>"It's—hard to tell," he continued. "I can't put the feeling of it in +words, the spirit of it, the wonder of it. I've tried to write it, and I +couldn't. Her name was Jane. He has never spoken of her by any other name +than that, and I've never asked for the rest of it. They were kids when +their two families started West over the big prairies in Conestoga wagons. +They grew up sweethearts. Both of her parents, and his mother, died before +they were married. Then, a little later, his father died, and they were +alone. I can imagine what their love must have been. I have seen it still +living in his eyes, and I have seen it in his strange hour-long dreams +after he has talked of her. They were always together. He has told me how +they roamed the mountains hand in hand in their hunts; how she was comrade +and chum when he went prospecting. He has opened his lonely old heart to +me—a great deal. He's told me how they used to be alone for months at a +time in the mountains, the things they used to do, and how she would sing +for him beside their campfire at night. 'She had a voice sweet as an +angel,' I remember he told me once. Then, more than forty years ago, came +the gold-rush away up in the Stikine River country. They went. They joined +a little party of twelve—ten men and two women. This party wandered far +out of the beaten paths of the other gold-seekers. And at last they found +gold."</p> + +<p>Ahead of them Donald MacDonald had turned in his saddle and was looking +back. For a moment Aldous ceased speaking.</p> + +<p>"Please—go on!" said Joanne.</p> + +<p>"They found gold," repeated Aldous. "They found so much of it, Ladygray, +that some of them went mad—mad as beasts. It was placer gold—loose gold, +and MacDonald says that one day he and Jane filled their pockets with +nuggets. Then something happened. A great storm came; a storm that filled +the mountains with snow through which no living creature as heavy as a man +or a horse could make its way. It came a month earlier than they had +expected, and from the beginning they were doomed. Their supplies were +almost gone.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you the horrors of the weeks and months that followed, as old +Donald has told them to me, Joanne. You must imagine. Only, when you are +deep in the mountains, and the snow comes, you are like a rat in a trap. So +they were caught—eleven men and three women. They who could make their +beds in sheets of yellow gold, but who had no food. The horses were lost in +the storm. Two of their frozen carcasses were found and used for food. Two +of the men set out on snowshoes, leaving their gold behind, and probably +died.</p> + +<p>"Then the first terrible thing happened. Two men quarrelled over a can of +beans, and one was killed. He was the husband of one of the women. The next +terrible thing happened to her—and there was a fight. On one side there +were young Donald and the husband of the other woman; on the other +side—the beasts. The husband was killed, and Donald and Jane sought refuge +in the log cabin they had built. That night they fled, taking what little +food they possessed, and what blankets they could carry. They knew they +were facing death. But they went together, hand in hand.</p> + +<p>"At last Donald found a great cave in the side of a mountain. I have a +picture of that cave in my brain—a deep, warm cave, with a floor of soft +white sand, a cave into which the two exhausted fugitives stumbled, still +hand in hand, and which was home. But they found it a little too late. +Three days later Jane died. And there is another picture in my brain—a +picture of young Donald sitting there in the cave, clasping in his arms the +cold form of the one creature in the world that he loved; moaning and +sobbing over her, calling upon her to come back to life, to open her eyes, +to speak to him—until at last his brain cracked and he went mad. That is +what happened. He went mad."</p> + +<p>Joanne's breath was coming brokenly through her lips. Unconsciously she had +clasped her fingers about the hand Aldous rested on her pommel.</p> + +<p>"How long he remained in the cave with his dead, MacDonald has never been +able to say," he resumed.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know whether he buried his wife or left her lying on the sand +floor of the cave. He doesn't know how he got out of the mountains. But he +did, and his mind came back. And since then, Joanne—for a matter of forty +years—his life has been spent in trying to find that cave. All those years +his search was unavailing. He could find no trace of the little hidden +valley in which the treasure-seekers found their bonanza of gold. No word +of it ever came out of the mountains; no other prospector ever stumbled +upon it. Year after year Donald went into the North; year after year he +came out as the winter set in, but he never gave up hope.</p> + +<p>"Then he began spending winter as well as summer in that forgotten +world—forgotten because the early gold-rush was over, and the old +Telegraph trail was travelled more by wolves than men. And always, Donald +has told me, his beloved Jane's spirit was with him in his wanderings over +the mountains, her hand leading him, her voice whispering to him in the +loneliness of the long nights. Think of it, Joanne! Forty years of that! +Forty years of a strange, beautiful madness, forty years of undying love, +of faith, of seeking and never finding! And this spring old Donald came +almost to the end of his quest. He knows, now; he knows where that little +treasure valley is hidden in the mountains, he knows where to find the +cave!"</p> + +<p>"He found her—he found her?" she cried. "After all those years—he found +her?"</p> + +<p>"Almost," said Aldous softly. "But the great finale in the tragedy of +Donald MacDonald's life is yet to come, Ladygray. It will come when once +more he stands in the soft white sand of that cavern floor, and sometimes +I tremble when I think that when that moment comes I will be at his side. +To me it will be terrible. To him it will be—what? That hour has not quite +arrived. It happened this way: Old Donald was coming down from the North on +the early slush snows this spring when he came to a shack in which a man +was almost dead of the smallpox. It was DeBar, the half-breed.</p> + +<p>"Fearlessly MacDonald nursed him. He says it was God who sent him to that +shack. For DeBar, in his feverish ravings, revealed the fact that he had +stumbled upon that little Valley of Gold for which MacDonald had searched +through forty years. Old Donald knew it was the same valley, for the +half-breed raved of dead men, of rotting buckskin sacks of yellow nuggets, +of crumbling log shacks, and of other things the memories of which stabbed +like knives into Donald's heart. How he fought to save that man! And, at +last, he succeeded.</p> + +<p>"They continued south, planning to outfit and go back for the gold. They +would have gone back at once, but they had no food and no horses. Foot by +foot, in the weeks that followed, DeBar described the way to the hidden +valley, until at last MacDonald knew that he could go to it as straight as +an eagle to its nest. When they reached Tête Jaune he came to me. And I +promised to go with him, Ladygray—back to the Valley of Gold. He calls it +that; but I—I think of it as The Valley of Silent Men. It is not the gold, +but the cavern with the soft white floor that is calling us."</p> + +<p>In her saddle Joanne had straightened. Her head was thrown back, her lips +were parted, and her eyes shone as the eyes of a Joan of Arc must have +shone when she stood that day before the Hosts.</p> + +<p>"And this man, the half-breed, has sold himself—for a woman?" she said, +looking straight ahead at the bent shoulders of old MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for a woman. Do you ask me why I go now? Why I shall fight, if +fighting there must be?"</p> + +<p>She turned to him. Her face was a blaze of glory.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" she cried. "Oh, John Aldous! if I were only a man, that I +might go with you and stand with you two in that Holy Sepulchre—the +Cavern—— If I were a man, I'd go—and, yes, I would fight!"</p> + +<p>And Donald MacDonald, looking back, saw the two clasping hands across the +trail. A moment later he turned his horse from the broad road into a narrow +trail that led over the range.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br> + +<p>From the hour in which she had listened to the story of old MacDonald a +change seemed to have come over Joanne. It was as if she had risen out of +herself, out of whatever fear or grief she might have possessed in her own +heart. John Aldous knew that there was some deep significance in her visit +to the grave under the Saw Tooth Mountain, and that from the beginning she +had been fighting under a tremendous mental and physical strain. He had +expected this day would be a terrible day for her; he had seen her efforts +to strengthen herself for the approaching crisis that morning. He believed +that as they drew nearer to their journey's end her suspense and +uneasiness, the fear which she was trying to keep from him, would, in spite +of her, become more and more evident. For these reasons the change which he +saw in her was not only delightfully unexpected but deeply puzzling. She +seemed to be under the influence of some new and absorbing excitement. Her +cheeks were flushed. There was a different poise to her head; in her voice, +too, there was a note which he had not noticed before.</p> + +<p>It struck him, all at once, that this was a new Joanne—a Joanne who, at +least for a brief spell, had broken the bondage of oppression and fear that +had fettered her. In the narrow trail up the mountain he rode behind her, +and in this he found a pleasure even greater than when he rode at her +side. Only when her face was turned from him did he dare surrender himself +at all to the emotions which had transformed his soul. From behind he could +look at her, and worship without fear of discovery. Every movement of her +slender, graceful body gave him a new and exquisite thrill; every dancing +light and every darkening shadow in her shimmering hair added to the joy +that no fear or apprehension could overwhelm within him now. Only in those +wonderful moments, when her presence was so near, and yet her eyes did not +see him, could he submerge himself completely in the thought of what she +had become to him and of what she meant to him.</p> + +<p>During the first hour of their climb over the break that led into the +valley beyond they had but little opportunity for conversation. The trail +was an abandoned Indian path, narrow, and in places extremely steep. Twice +Aldous helped Joanne from her horse that she might travel afoot over places +which he considered dangerous. When he assisted her in the saddle again, +after a stiff ascent of a hundred yards, she was panting from her exertion, +and he felt the sweet thrill of her breath in his face. For a space his +happiness obliterated all thoughts of other things. It was MacDonald who +brought them back.</p> + +<p>They had reached the summit of the break, and through his long brass +telescope the old mountaineer was scanning the valley out of which they had +come. Under them lay Tête Jaune, gleaming in the morning sun, and it dawned +suddenly upon Aldous that this was the spot from which MacDonald had spied +upon his enemies. He looked at Joanne. She was breathing quickly as she +looked upon the wonder of the scene below them. Suddenly she turned, and +encountered his eyes.</p> + +<p>"They might—follow?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No danger of that," he assured her.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had dismounted, and now he lay crouched behind a rock, with his +telescope resting over the top of it. He had leaned his long rifle against +the boulder; his huge forty-four, a relic of the old Indian days, hung at +his hip. Joanne saw these omens of preparedness, and her eyes shifted again +to Aldous. His .303 swung from his saddle. At his waist was the heavy +automatic. She smiled. In her eyes was understanding, and something like a +challenge. She did not question him again, but under her gaze Aldous +flushed.</p> + +<p>A moment later MacDonald closed his telescope and without a word mounted +his horse. Where the descent into the second valley began he paused again. +To the north through the haze of the morning sun gleamed the snow-capped +peaks of the Saw Tooth Range. Apparently not more than an hour's ride +distant rose a huge red sandstone giant which seemed to shut in the end of +the valley MacDonald stretched forth a long arm in its direction.</p> + +<p>"What we're seekin' is behind that mountain," he said. "It's ten miles from +here." He turned to the girl. "Are you gettin' lame, Mis' Joanne?"</p> + +<p>Aldous saw her lips tighten.</p> + +<p>"No. Let us go on, please."</p> + +<p>She was staring fixedly at the sombre red mass of the mountain. Her eyes +did not take in the magnificent sweep of the valley below. They saw +nothing of the snow-capped peaks beyond. There was something wild and +unnatural in their steady gaze. Aldous dropped behind her as they began the +gradual descent from the crest of the break and his own heart began to beat +more apprehensively; the old question flashed back upon him, and he felt +again the oppression that once before had held him in its grip. His eyes +did not leave Joanne. And always she was staring at the mountain behind +which lay the thing they were seeking! It was not Joanne herself that set +his blood throbbing. Her face had not paled. Its colour was like the hectic +flush of a fever. Her eyes alone betrayed her; their strange intensity—the +almost painful steadiness with which they hung to the distant mountain, and +a dread of what was to come seized upon him. Again he found himself asking +himself questions which he could not answer. Why had Joanne not confided +more fully in him? What was the deeper significance of this visit to the +grave, and of her mission in the mountains?</p> + +<p>Down the narrow Indian trail they passed into the thick spruce timber. Half +an hour later they came out into the grassy creek bottom of the valley. +During that time Joanne did not look behind her, and John Aldous did not +speak. MacDonald turned north, and the sandstone mountain was straight +ahead of them. It was not like the other mountains. There was something +sinister and sullen about it. It was ugly and broken. No vegetation grew +upon it, and through the haze of sunlight its barren sides and battlemented +crags gleamed a dark and humid red after the morning mists, as if freshly +stained with blood. Aldous guessed its effect upon Joanne, and he +determined to put an end to it. Again he rode up close beside her.</p> + +<p>"I want you to get better acquainted with old Donald," he said. "We're sort +of leaving him out in the cold, Ladygray. Do you mind if I tell him to come +back and ride with you for a while?"</p> + +<p>"I've been wanting to talk with him," she replied. "If you don't mind——"</p> + +<p>"I don't," he broke in quickly. "You'll love old Donald, Ladygray. And, if +you can, I'd like to have you tell him all that you know about—Jane. Let +him know that I told you."</p> + +<p>She nodded. Her lips trembled in a smile.</p> + +<p>"I will," she said.</p> + +<p>A moment later Aldous was telling MacDonald that Joanne wanted him. The old +mountaineer stared. He drew his pipe from his mouth, beat out its +half-burned contents, and thrust it into its accustomed pocket.</p> + +<p>"She wants to see me?" he asked. "God bless her soul—what for?"</p> + +<p>"Because she thinks you're lonesome up here alone, Mac. And look +here"—Aldous leaned over to MacDonald—"her nerves are ready to snap. I +know it. There's a mighty good reason why I can't relieve the strain she is +under. But you can. She's thinking every minute of that mountain up there +and the grave behind it. You go back, and talk. Tell her about the first +time you ever came up through these valleys—you and Jane. Will you, Mac? +Will you tell her that?"</p> + +<p>MacDonald did not reply, but he dropped behind. Aldous took up the lead. A +few minutes later he looked back, and laughed softly under his breath. +Joanne and the old hunter were riding side by side in the creek bottom, and +Joanne was talking. He looked at his watch. He did not look at it again +until the first gaunt, red shoulder of the sandstone mountain began to loom +over them. An hour had passed since he left Joanne. Ahead of him, perhaps a +mile distant, was the cragged spur beyond which—according to the sketch +Keller had drawn for him at the engineers' camp—was the rough canyon +leading back to the basin on the far side of the mountain. He had almost +reached this when MacDonald rode up.</p> + +<p>"You go back, Johnny," he said, a singular softness in his hollow voice. +"We're a'most there."</p> + +<p>He cast his eyes over the western peaks, where dark clouds were shouldering +their way up in the face of the sun, and added:</p> + +<p>"There's rain in that. I'll trot on ahead with Pinto and have a tent ready +when you come. I reckon it can't be more'n a mile up the canyon."</p> + +<p>"And the grave, Mac?"</p> + +<p>"Is right close to where I'll pitch the tent," said MacDonald, swinging +suddenly behind the pack-horse Pinto, and urging him into a trot. "Don't +waste any time, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Aldous rode back to Joanne.</p> + +<p>"It looks like rain," he explained. "These Pacific showers come up quickly +this side of the Divide, and they drench you in a jiffy. Donald is going on +ahead to put up a tent."</p> + +<p>By the time they reached the mouth of the canyon MacDonald was out of +sight. A little creek that was a swollen torrent in spring time trickled +out of the gorge. Its channel was choked with a chaotic confusion of +sandstone rock and broken slate, and up through this Aldous carefully +picked his way, followed closely by Joanne. The sky continued to darken +above them, until at last the sun died out, and a thick and almost palpable +gloom began to envelop them. Low thunder rolled through the mountains in +sullen, rumbling echoes. He looked back at Joanne, and was amazed to see +her eyes shining, and a smile on her lips as she nodded at him.</p> + +<p>"It makes me think of Henrik Hudson and his ten-pin players," she called +softly. "And ahead of us—is Rip Van Winkle!"</p> + +<p>The first big drops were beginning to fall when they came to an open place. +The gorge swung to the right; on their left the rocks gave place to a +rolling meadow of buffalo grass, and Aldous knew they had reached the +basin. A hundred yards up the slope was a fringe of timber, and as he +looked he saw smoke rising out of this. The sound of MacDonald's axe came +to them. He turned to Joanne, and he saw that she understood. They were at +their journey's end. Perhaps her fingers gripped her rein a little more +tightly. Perhaps it was imagination that made him think there was a slight +tremble in her voice when she said:</p> + +<p>"This—is the place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It should be just above the timber. I believe I can see the upper +break of the little box canyon Keller told me about."</p> + +<p>She rode without speaking until they entered the timber. They were just in +time. As he lifted her down from her horse the clouds opened, and the rain +fell in a deluge. Her hair was wet when he got her in the tent. MacDonald +had spread out a number of blankets, but he had disappeared. Joanne sank +down upon them with a little shiver. She looked up at Aldous. It was almost +dark in the tent, and her eyes were glowing strangely. Over them the +thunder crashed deafeningly. For a few minutes it was a continual roar, +shaking the mountains with mighty reverberations that were like the +explosions of giant guns. Aldous stood holding the untied flap against the +beat of the rain. Twice he saw Joanne's lips form words. At last he heard +her say:</p> + +<p>"Where is Donald?"</p> + +<p>He tied the flap, and dropped down on the edge of the blankets before he +answered her.</p> + +<p>"Probably out in the open watching the lightning, and letting the rain +drench him," he said. "I've never known old Donald to come in out of a +rain, unless it was cold. He was tying up the horses when I ran in here +with you."</p> + +<p>He believed she was shivering, yet he knew she was not cold. In the half +gloom of the tent he wanted to reach over and take her hand.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes longer there was no break in the steady downpour and the +crashing of the thunder. Then, as suddenly as the storm had broken, it +began to subside. Aldous rose and flung back the tent-flap.</p> + +<p>"It is almost over," he said. "You had better remain in the tent a little +longer, Ladygray. I will go out and see if MacDonald has succeeded in +drowning himself."</p> + +<p>Joanne did not answer, and Aldous stepped outside. He knew where to find +the old hunter. He had gone up to the end of the timber, and probably this +minute was in the little box canyon searching for the grave. It was a +matter of less than a hundred yards to the upper fringe of timber, and when +Aldous came out of this he stood on the summit of the grassy divide that +separated the tiny lake Keller had described from the canyon. It was less +than a rifle shot distant, and on the farther side of it MacDonald was +already returning. Aldous hurried down to meet him. He did not speak when +they met, but his companion answered the question in his eyes, while the +water dripped in streams from his drenched hair and beard.</p> + +<p>"It's there," he said, pointing back. "Just behind that big black rock. +There's a slab over it, an' you've got the name right. It's Mortimer +FitzHugh."</p> + +<p>Above them the clouds were splitting asunder. A shaft of sunlight broke +through, and as they stood looking over the little lake the shaft +broadened, and the sun swept in golden triumph over the mountains. +MacDonald beat his limp hat against his knee, and with his other hand +drained the water from his beard.</p> + +<p>"What you goin' to do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Aldous turned toward the timber. Joanne herself answered the question. She +was coming up the slope. In a few moments she stood beside them. First she +looked down upon the lake. Then her eyes turned to Aldous. There was no +need for speech. He held out his hand, and without hesitation she gave him +her own. MacDonald understood. He walked down ahead of them toward the +black rock. When he came to the rock he paused. Aldous and Joanne passed +him. Then they, too, stopped, and Aldous freed the girl's hand.</p> + +<p>With an unexpectedness that was startling they had come upon the grave. Yet +not a sound escaped Joanne's lips. Aldous could not see that she was +breathing. Less than ten paces from them was the mound, protected by its +cairn of stones; and over the stones rose a weather-stained slab in the +form of a cross. One glance at the grave and Aldous riveted his eyes upon +Joanne. For a full minute she stood as motionless as though the last breath +had left her body. Then, slowly, she advanced. He could not see her face. +He followed, quietly, step by step as she moved. For another minute she +leaned over the slab, making out the fine-seared letters of the name. Her +body was bent forward; her two hands were clenched tightly at her side. +Even more slowly than she had advanced she turned toward Aldous and +MacDonald. Her face was dead white. She lifted her hands to her breast, and +clenched them there.</p> + +<p>"It is his name," she said, and there was something repressed and terrible +in her low voice. "It is his name!"</p> + +<p>She was looking straight into the eyes of John Aldous, and he saw that she +was fighting to say something which she had not spoken. Suddenly she came +to him, and her two hands caught his arm.</p> + +<p>"It is terrible—what I am going to ask of you," she struggled. "You will +think I am a ghoul. But I must have proof! I must—I must!"</p> + +<p>She was staring wildly at him, and all at once there leapt fiercely through +him a dawning of the truth. The name was there, seared by hot iron in that +slab of wood. The name! But under the cairn of stones——</p> + +<p>Behind them MacDonald had heard. He towered beside them now. His great +mountain-twisted hands drew Joanne a step back, and strange gentleness was +in his voice as he said:</p> + +<p>"You an' Johnny go back an' build a fire, Mis' Joanne. I'll find the +proof!"</p> + +<p>"Come," said Aldous, and he held out his hand again.</p> + +<p>MacDonald hurried on ahead of them. When they reached the camp he was gone, +so that Joanne did not see the pick and shovel which he carried back. She +went into the tent and Aldous began building a fire where MacDonald's had +been drowned out. There was little reason for a fire; but he built it, and +for fifteen minutes added pitch-heavy fagots of storm-killed jack-pine and +spruce to it, until the flames leapt a dozen feet into the air. Half a +dozen times he was impelled to return to the grave and assist MacDonald in +his gruesome task. But he knew that MacDonald had meant that he should stay +with Joanne. If he returned, she might follow.</p> + +<p>He was surprised at the quickness with which MacDonald performed his work. +Not more than half an hour had passed when a low whistle drew his eyes to a +clump of dwarf spruce back in the timber. The mountaineer was standing +there, holding something in his hand. With a backward glance to see that +Joanne had not come from the tent, Aldous hastened to him. What he could +see of MacDonald's face was the lifeless colour of gray ash. His eyes +stared as if he had suffered a strange and unexpected shock. He went to +speak, but no words came through his beard. In his hand he held his faded +red neck-handkerchief. He gave it to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't deep," he said. "It was shallow, turribly shallow, Johnny—just +under the stone!"</p> + +<p>His voice was husky and unnatural.</p> + +<p>There was something heavy in the handkerchief, and a shudder passed through +Aldous as he placed it on the palm of his hand and unveiled its contents. +He could not repress an exclamation when he saw what MacDonald had brought. +In his hand, with a single thickness of the wet handkerchief between the +objects and his flesh, lay a watch and a ring. The watch was of gold. It +was tarnished, but he could see there were initials, which he could not +make out, engraved on the back of the case. The ring, too, was of gold. It +was one of the most gruesome ornaments Aldous had ever seen. It was in the +form of a coiled and writhing serpent, wide enough to cover half of one's +middle finger between the joints. Again the eyes of the two men met, and +again Aldous observed that strange, stunned look in the old hunter's face. +He turned and walked back toward the tent, MacDonald following him slowly, +still staring, his long gaunt arms and hands hanging limply at his side.</p> + +<p>Joanne heard them, and came out of the tent. A choking cry fell from her +lips when she saw MacDonald. For a moment one of her hands clutched at the +wet canvas of the tent, and then she swayed forward, knowing what John +Aldous had in his hand. He stood voiceless while she looked. In that tense +half-minute when she stared at the objects he held it seemed to him that +her heart-strings must snap under the strain. Then she drew back from +them, her eyes filled with horror, her hands raised as if to shut out the +sight of them, and a panting, sobbing cry broke from between her pallid +lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "Take them away—take them away!"</p> + +<p>She staggered back to the tent, and stood there with her hands covering her +face. Aldous turned to the old hunter and gave him the things he held.</p> + +<p>A moment later he stood alone where the three had been, staring now as +Joanne had stared, his heart beating wildly.</p> + +<p>For Joanne, in entering the tent, had uncovered her face; it was not grief +that he saw there, but the soul of a woman new-born. And as his own soul +responded in a wild rejoicing, MacDonald, going over the summit and down +into the hollow, mumbled in his beard:</p> + +<p>"God ha' mercy on me! I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny, an' because she's +like my Jane!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br> + +<p>Plunged from one extreme of mental strain to another excitement that was as +acute in its opposite effect, John Aldous stood and stared at the tent-flap +that had dropped behind Joanne. Only a flash he had caught of her face; but +in that flash he had seen the living, quivering joyousness of freedom +blazing where a moment before there had been only horror and fear. As if +ashamed of her own betrayal, Joanne had darted into the tent. She had +answered his question a thousand times more effectively than if she had +remained to tell him with her lips that MacDonald's proofs were +sufficient—that the grave in the little box canyon had not disappointed +her. She had recognized the ring and the watch; from them she had shrank in +horror, as if fearing that the golden serpent might suddenly leap into life +and strike.</p> + +<p>In spite of the mightiest efforts she might have made for self-control +Aldous had seen in her tense and tortured face a look that was more than +either dread or shock—it was abhorrence, hatred. And his last glimpse of +her face had revealed those things gone, and in their place the strange joy +she had run into the tent to hide. That she should rejoice over the dead, +or that the grim relics from the grave should bring that new dawn into her +face and eyes, did not strike him as shocking. In Joanne his sun had +already begun to rise and set. He had come to understand that for her the +grave must hold its dead; that the fact of death, death under the slab that +bore Mortimer FitzHugh's name, meant life for her, just as it meant life +and all things for him. He had prayed for it, even while he dreaded that it +might not be. In him all things were now submerged in the wild thought that +Joanne was free, and the grave had been the key to her freedom.</p> + +<p>A calmness began to possess him that was in singular contrast to the +perturbed condition of his mind a few minutes before. From this hour Joanne +was his to fight for, to win if he could; and, knowing this, his soul rose +in triumph above his first physical exultation, and he fought back the +almost irresistible impulse to follow her into the tent and tell her what +this day had meant for him. Following this came swiftly a realization of +what it had meant for her—the suspense, the terrific strain, the final +shock and gruesome horror of it. He was sure, without seeing, that she was +huddled down on the blankets in the tent. She had passed through an ordeal +under which a strong man might have broken, and the picture he had of her +struggle in there alone turned him from the tent filled with a +determination to make her believe that the events of the morning, both with +him and MacDonald, were easily forgotten.</p> + +<p>He began to whistle as he threw back the wet canvas from over the camp +outfit that had been taken from Pinto's back. In one of the two cow-hide +panniers he saw that thoughtful old Donald had packed materials for their +dinner, as well as utensils necessary for its preparation. That dinner they +would have in the valley, well beyond the red mountain. He began to repack, +whistling cheerily. He was still whistling when MacDonald returned. He +broke off sharply when he saw the other's face.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Mac?" he asked. "You sick?"</p> + +<p>"It weren't pleasant, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Aldous nodded toward the tent.</p> + +<p>"It was—beastly," he whispered. "But we can't let her feel that way about +it, Mac. Cheer up—and let's get out of this place. We'll have dinner +somewhere over in the valley."</p> + +<p>They continued packing until only the tent remained to be placed on Pinto's +back. Aldous resumed his loud whistling as he tightened up the +saddle-girths, and killed time in half a dozen other ways. A quarter of an +hour passed. Still Joanne did not appear. Aldous scratched his head +dubiously, and looked at the tent.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to disturb her, Mac," he said in a low voice. "Let's keep up +the bluff of being busy. We can put out the fire."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, sweating and considerably smokegrimed, Aldous again +looked toward the tent.</p> + +<p>"We might cut down a few trees," suggested MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Or play leap-frog," added Aldous.</p> + +<p>"The trees'd sound more natcherel," said MacDonald. "We could tell her——"</p> + +<p>A stick snapped behind them. Both turned at the same instant. Joanne stood +facing them not ten feet away.</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!" gasped Aldous. "Joanne, I thought you were in the tent!"</p> + +<p>The beautiful calmness in Joanne's face amazed him. He stared at her as he +spoke, forgetting altogether the manner in which he had intended to greet +her when she came from the tent.</p> + +<p>"I went out the back way—lifted the canvas and crawled under just like a +boy," she explained. "And I've walked until my feet are wet."</p> + +<p>"And the fire is out!"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind wet feet," she hurried to assure him.</p> + +<p>Old Donald was already at work pulling the tent-pegs. Joanne came close to +Aldous, and he saw again that deep and wonderful light in her eyes. This +time he knew that she meant he should see it, and words which he had +determined not to speak fell softly from his lips.</p> + +<p>"You are no longer afraid, Ladygray? That which you dreaded——"</p> + +<p>"Is dead," she said. "And you, John Aldous? Without knowing, seeing me only +as you have seen me, do you think that I am terrible?"</p> + +<p>"No, could not think that."</p> + +<p>Her hand touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"Will you go out there with me, in the sunlight, where we can look down +upon the little lake?" she asked. "Until to-day I had made up my mind that +no one but myself would ever know the truth. But you have been good to me, +and I must tell you—about myself—about him."</p> + +<p>He found no answer. He left no word with MacDonald. Until they stood on the +grassy knoll, with the lakelet shimmering in the sunlight below them, +Joanne herself did not speak again. Then, with a little gesture, she said:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think what is down there is dreadful to me. It isn't. I shall +always remember that little lake, almost as Donald remembers the +cavern—not because it watches over something I love, but because it guards +a thing that in life would have destroyed me! I know how you must feel, +John Aldous—that deep down in your heart you must wonder at a woman who +can rejoice in the death of another human creature. Yet death, and death +alone, has been the key from bondage of millions of souls that have lived +before mine; and there are men—men, too—whose lives have been warped and +destroyed because death did not come to save them. One was my father. If +death had come for him, if it had taken my mother, that down there would +never have happened—for me!"</p> + +<p>She spoke the terrible words so quietly, so calmly, that it was impossible +for him entirely to conceal their effect upon him. There was a bit of +pathos in her smile.</p> + +<p>"My mother drove my father mad," she went on, with a simple directness that +was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard come from human lips. "The +world did not know that he was mad. It called him eccentric. But he was +mad—in just one way. I was nine years old when it happened, and I can +remember our home most vividly. It was a beautiful home. And my father! +Need I tell you that I worshipped him—that to me he was king of all men? +And as deeply as I loved him, so, in another way, he worshipped my mother. +She was beautiful. In a curious sort of way I used to wonder, as a child, +how it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful. It was a dark beauty—a +recurrence of French strain in her English blood.</p> + +<p>"One day I overheard my father tell her that, if she died, he would kill +himself. He was not of the passionate, over-sentimental kind; he was a +philosopher, a scientist, calm and self-contained—and I remembered those +words later, when I had outgrown childhood, as one of a hundred proofs of +how devoutly he had loved her. It was more than love, I believe. It was +adoration. I was nine, I say, when things happened. Another man, a divorce, +and on the day of the divorce this woman, my mother, married her lover. +Somewhere in my father's brain a single thread snapped, and from that day +he was mad—mad on but one subject; and so deep and intense was his madness +that it became a part of me as the years passed, and to-day I, too, am +possessed of that madness. And it is the one greatest thing in the world +that I am proud of, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>Not once had her voice betrayed excitement or emotion. Not once had it +risen above its normal tone; and in her eyes, as they turned from the lake +to him, there was the tranquillity of a child.</p> + +<p>"And that madness," she resumed, "was the madness of a man whose brain and +soul were overwrought in one colossal hatred—a hatred of divorce and the +laws that made it possible. It was born in him in a day, and it lived until +his death. It turned him from the paths of men, and we became wanderers +upon the face of the earth. Two years after the ruin of our home my mother +and the man she had married died in a ship that was lost at sea. This had +no effect upon my father. Possibly you will not understand what grew up +between us in the years and years that followed. To the end he was a +scientist, a man seeking after the unknown, and my education came to be a +composite of teachings gathered in all parts of the world. We were never +apart. We were more than father and daughter; we were friends, +comrades—he was my world, and I was his.</p> + +<p>"I recall, as I became older, how his hatred of that thing that had broken +our home developed more and more strongly in me. His mind was titanic. A +thousand times I pleaded with him to employ it in the great fight I wanted +him to make—a fight against the crime divorce. I know, now, why he did +not. He was thinking of me. Only one thing he asked of me. It was more than +a request. It was a command. And this command, and my promise, was that so +long as I lived—no matter what might happen in my life—I would sacrifice +myself body and soul sooner than allow that black monster of divorce to +fasten its clutches on me. It is futile for me to tell you these things, +John Aldous. It is impossible—you cannot understand!"</p> + +<p>"I can," he replied, scarcely above a whisper. "Joanne, I begin—to +understand!"</p> + +<p>And still without emotion, her voice as calm as the unruffled lake at their +feet, she continued:</p> + +<p>"It grew in me. It is a part of me now. I hate divorce as I hate the worst +sin that bars one from Heaven. It is the one thing I hate. And it is +because of this hatred that I suffered myself to remain the wife of the man +whose name is over that grave down there—Mortimer FitzHugh. It came about +strangely—what I am going to tell you now. You will wonder. You will think +I was insane. But remember, John Aldous—the world had come to hold but one +friend and comrade for me, and he was my father. It was after Mindano. He +caught the fever, and he was dying."</p> + +<p>For the first time her breath choked her. It was only for an instant. She +recovered herself, and went on:</p> + +<p>"Out of the world my father had left he had kept one friend—Richard +FitzHugh; and this man, with his son, was with us during those terrible +days of fever. I met Mortimer as I had met a thousand other men. His +father, I thought, was the soul of honour, and I accepted the son as such. +We were much together during those two weeks of my despair, and he seemed +to be attentive and kind. Then came the end. My father was dying. And I—I +was ready to die. In his last moments his one thought was of me. He knew I +was alone, and the fear of it terrified him. I believe he did not realize +then what he was asking of me. He pleaded with me to marry the son of his +old friend before he died. And I—John Aldous, I could not fight his last +wish as he lay dying before my eyes. We were married there at his bedside. +He joined our hands. And the words he whispered to me last of all were: +'Remember—Joanne—thy promise and thine honour!'"</p> + +<p>For a moment Joanne stood facing the little lake, and when she spoke again +there was a note of thankfulness, of subdued joy and triumph, in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Before that day had ended I had displeased Mortimer FitzHugh," she said, +and Aldous saw the fingers of her hands close tightly. "I told him that +until a month had passed I would not live with him as a wife lives with her +husband. And he was displeased. And my father was not yet buried! I was +shocked. My soul revolted.</p> + +<p>"We went to London and I was made welcome in the older FitzHugh's wifeless +home, and the papers told of our wedding. And two days later there came +from Devonshire a woman—a sweet-faced little woman with sick, haunted +eyes; in her arms she brought a baby; and that baby <i>was Mortimer +FitzHugh's!</i></p> + +<p>"We confronted him—the mother, the baby, and I; and then I knew that he +was a fiend. And the father was a fiend. They offered to buy the woman off, +to support her and the child. They told me that many English gentlemen had +made mistakes like this, and that it was nothing—that it was quite common. +Mortimer FitzHugh had never touched me with his lips, and now, when he came +to touch me with his hands, I struck him. It was a serpent's house, and I +left it.</p> + +<p>"My father had left me a comfortable fortune, and I went into a house of my +own. Day after day they came to me, and I knew that they feared I was going +to secure a divorce. During the six months that followed I learned other +things about the man who was legally my husband. He was everything that was +vile. Brazenly he went into public places with women of dishonour, and I +hid my face in shame.</p> + +<p>"His father died, and for a time Mortimer FitzHugh became one of the +talked-about spendthrifts of London. Swiftly he gambled and dissipated +himself into comparative poverty. And now, learning that I would not get a +divorce, he began to regard me as a slave in chains. I remember, one time, +that he succeeded in laying his hands on me, and they were like the touch +of things that were slimy and poisonous. He laughed at my revulsion. He +demanded money of me, and to keep him away from me I gave it to him. Again +and again he came for money; I suffered as I cannot tell you, but never +once in my misery did I weaken in my promise to my father and to myself. +But—at last—I ran away.</p> + +<p>"I went to Egypt, and then to India. A year later I learned that Mortimer +FitzHugh had gone to America, and I returned to London. For two years I +heard nothing of him; but day and night I lived in fear and dread. And then +came the news that he had died, as you read in the newspaper clipping. I +was free! For a year I believed that; and then, like a shock that had come +to destroy me, I was told that he <i>was not dead</i> but that he was alive, and +in a place called Tête Jaune Cache, in British Columbia. I could not live +in the terrible suspense that followed. I determined to find out for myself +if he was alive or dead. And so I came, John Aldous. And he is dead. He is +down there—dead. And I am glad that he is dead!"</p> + +<p>"And if he was not dead," said Aldous quietly, "I would kill him!"</p> + +<p>He could find nothing more to say than that. He dared trust himself no +further, and in silence he held out his hands, and for a moment Joanne gave +him her own. Then she withdrew them, and with a little gesture, and the +smile which he loved to see trembling about her mouth, she said:</p> + +<p>"Donald will think this is scandalous. We must go back and apologize!"</p> + +<p>She led him down the slope, and her face was filled with the pink flush of +a wild rose when she ran up to Donald, and asked him to help her into her +saddle. John Aldous rode like one in a dream as they went back into the +valley, for with each minute that passed Joanne seemed more and more to +him like a beautiful bird that had escaped from its prison-cage, and in him +mind and soul were absorbed in the wonder of it and in his own rejoicing. +She was free, and in her freedom she was happy!</p> + +<p>Free! It was that thought that pounded steadily in his brain. He forgot +Quade, and Culver Rann, and the gold; he forgot his own danger, his own +work, almost his own existence. Of a sudden the world had become +infinitesimally small for him, and all he could see was the soft shimmer of +Joanne's hair in the sun, the wonder of her face, the marvellous blue of +her eyes—and all he could hear was the sweet thrill of her voice when she +spoke to him or old Donald, and when, now and then, soft laughter trembled +on her lips in the sheer joy of the life that had dawned anew for her this +day.</p> + +<p>They stopped for dinner, and then went on over the range and down into the +valley where lay Tête Jaune. And all this time he fought to keep from +flaming in his own face the desire that was like a hot fire within him—the +desire to go to Joanne and tell her that he loved her as he had never +dreamed it possible for love to exist in the whole wide world. He knew that +to surrender to that desire in this hour would be something like sacrilege. +He did not guess that Joanne saw his struggle, that even old MacDonald +mumbled low words in his beard. When they came at last to Blackton's +bungalow he thought that he had kept this thing from her, and he did not +see—and would not have understood if he had seen—the wonderful and +mysterious glow in Joanne's eyes when she kissed Peggy Blackton.</p> + +<p>Blackton had come in from the work-end, dust-covered and jubilant.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you folks have returned," he cried, beaming with enthusiasm as he +gripped Aldous by the hand. "The last rock is packed, and to-night we're +going to shake the earth. We're going to blow up Coyote Number +Twenty-seven, and you won't forget the sight as long as you live!"</p> + +<p>Not until Joanne had disappeared into the house with Peggy Blackton did +Aldous feel that he had descended firmly upon his feet once more into a +matter-of-fact world. MacDonald was waiting with the horses, and Blackton +was pointing over toward the steel workers, and was saying something about +ten thousand pounds of black powder and dynamite and a mountain that had +stood a million years and was going to be blown up that night.</p> + +<p>"It's the best bit of work I've ever done, Aldous—that and Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. Peggy was going to touch the electric button to Twenty-seven +to-night, but we've decided to let Miss Gray do that, and Peggy'll fire +Twenty-eight to-morrow night. Twenty-eight is almost ready. If you say so, +the bunch of us will go over and see it in the morning. Mebby Miss Gray +would like to see for herself that a coyote isn't only an animal with a +bushy tail, but a cavern dug into rock an' filled with enough explosives to +play high jinks with all the navies in the world if they happened to be on +hand at the time. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Fine!" said Aldous.</p> + +<p>"And Peggy wants me to say that it's a matter of only common, every-day +decency on your part to make yourself our guest while here," added the +contractor, stuffing his pipe. "We've got plenty of room, enough to eat, +and a comfortable bed for you. You're going to be polite enough to accept, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," exclaimed Aldous, his blood tingling at the thought of +being near Joanne. "I've got some business with MacDonald and as soon as +that's over I'll domicile myself here. It's bully of you, Blackton! You +know——"</p> + +<p>"Why, dammit, of course I know!" chuckled Blackton, lighting his pipe. +"Can't I see, Aldous? D'ye think I'm blind? I was just as gone over Peggy +before I married her. Fact is, I haven't got over it yet—and never will. I +come up from the work four times a day regular to see her, and if I don't +come I have to send up word I'm safe. Peggy saw it first. She said it was a +shame to put you off in that cabin with Miss Gray away up here. I don't +want to stick my nose in your business, old man, but—by George!--I +congratulate you! I've only seen one lovelier woman in my life, and that's +Peggy."</p> + +<p>He thrust out a hand and pumped his friend's limp arm, and Aldous felt +himself growing suddenly warm under the other's chuckling gaze.</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake don't say anything, or act anything, old man," he +pleaded. "I'm—just—hoping."</p> + +<p>Blackton nodded with prodigious understanding in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Come along when you get through with MacDonald," he said. "I'm going in +and clean up for to-night's fireworks."</p> + +<p>A question was in Aldous' mind, but he did not put it in words. He wanted +to know about Quade and Culver Rann.</p> + +<p>"Blackton is such a ridiculously forgetful fellow at times that I don't +want to rouse his alarm," he said to MacDonald as they were riding toward +the corral a few minutes later. "He might let something out to Joanne and +his wife, and I've got reasons—mighty good reasons, Mac—for keeping this +affair as quiet as possible. We'll have to discover what Rann and Quade are +doing ourselves."</p> + +<p>MacDonald edged his horse in nearer to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"See here, Johnny, boy—tell me what's in your mind?"</p> + +<p>Aldous looked into the grizzled face, and there was something in the glow +of the old mountaineer's eyes that made him think of a father.</p> + +<p>"You know, Mac."</p> + +<p>Old Donald nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess I do, Johnny," he said in a low voice. "You think of Mis' +Joanne as I used to—to—think of <i>her</i>. I guess I know. But—what you +goin' to do?"</p> + +<p>Aldous shook his head, and for the first time that afternoon a look of +uneasiness and gloom overspread his face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mac. I'm not ashamed to tell you. I love her. If she were to +pass out of my life to-morrow I would ask for something that belonged to +her, and the spirit of her would live in it for me until I died. That's how +I care, Mac. But I've known her such a short time. I can't tell her yet. It +wouldn't be the square thing. And yet she won't remain in Tête Jaune very +long. Her mission is accomplished. And if—if she goes I can't very well +follow her, can I, Mac?"</p> + +<p>For a space old Donald was silent. Then he said, "You're thinkin' of me, +Johnny, an' what we was planning on?"</p> + +<p>"Partly."</p> + +<p>"Then don't any more. I'll stick to you, an' we'll stick to her. Only——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"If you could get Peggy Blackton to help you——"</p> + +<p>"You mean——" began Aldous eagerly.</p> + +<p>"That if Peggy Blackton got her to stay for a week—mebby ten +days—visitin' her, you know, it wouldn't be so bad if you told her then, +would it, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"By George, it wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"And I think——"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"Bein' an old man, an' seein' mebby what you don't see——"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"That she'd take you, Johnny."</p> + +<p>In his breast John's heart seemed suddenly to give a jump that choked him. +And while he stared ahead old Donald went on.</p> + +<p>"I've seen it afore, in a pair of eyes just like her eyes, Johnny—so soft +an' deeplike, like the sky up there when the sun's in it. I seen it when we +was ridin' behind an' she looked ahead at you, Johnny. I did. An' I've seen +it afore. An' I think——"</p> + +<p>Aldous waited, his heart-strings ready to snap.</p> + +<p>"An' I think—she likes you a great deal, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Aldous reached over and gripped MacDonald's hand.</p> + +<p>"The good Lord bless you, Donald! We'll stick! As for Quade and Culver +Rann——"</p> + +<p>"I've been thinkin' of them," interrupted MacDonald. "You haven't got time +to waste on them, Johnny. Leave 'em to me. If it's only a week you've got +to be close an' near by Mis' Joanne. I'll find out what Quade an' Rann are +doing, and what they're goin' to do. I've got a scheme. Will you leave 'em +to me?"</p> + +<p>Aldous nodded, and in the same breath informed MacDonald of Peggy +Blackton's invitation. The old hunter chuckled exultantly. He stopped his +horse, and Aldous halted.</p> + +<p>"It's workin' out fine, Johnny!" he exclaimed. "There ain't no need of you +goin' any further. We understand each other, and there ain't nothin' for +you to do at the corral. Jump off your horse and go back. If I want you +I'll come to the Blacktons' 'r send word, and if you want me I'll be at the +corral or the camp in the coulee. Jump off, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>Without further urging Aldous dismounted. They shook hands again, and +MacDonald drove on ahead of him the saddled horses and the pack. And as +Aldous turned back toward the bungalow old Donald was mumbling low in his +beard again, "God ha' mercy on me, but I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny—for +her an' Johnny!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br> + +<p>Half an hour later Blackton had shown Aldous to his room and bath. It was +four o'clock when he rejoined the contractor in the lower room, freshly +bathed and shaven and in a change of clothes. He had not seen Joanne, but +half a dozen times he had heard her and Peggy Blackton laughing and talking +in Mrs. Blackton's big room at the head of the stairs, and he heard them +now as they sat down to smoke their cigars. Blackton was filled with +enthusiasm over the accomplishment of his latest work, and Aldous tried +hard not to betray the fact that the minutes were passing with gruelling +slowness while he waited for Joanne. He wanted to see her. His heart was +beating like an excited boy's. He could hear her footsteps over his head, +and he distinguished her soft laughter, and her sweet voice when she spoke. +There was something tantalizing in her nearness and the fact that she did +not once show herself at the top of the stair. Blackton was still talking +about "coyotes" and dynamite when, an hour later, Aldous looked up, and his +heart gave a big, glad jump.</p> + +<p>Peggy Blackton, a plump little golden-haired vision of happiness, was +already half a dozen steps down the stairs. At the top Joanne, for an +instant, had paused. Through that space, before the contractor had turned, +her eyes met those of John Aldous. She was smiling. Her eyes were shining +at him. Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and +never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness. She was dressed +in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat, +and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous +way. Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she +had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the +lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck.</p> + +<p>For a moment, as Peggy Blackton went to her husband, he stood very close to +Joanne, and into his eyes she was smiling, half laughing, her beautiful +mouth aquiver, her eyes glowing, the last trace of their old suspense and +fear vanished in a new and wondrous beauty. He would not have said she was +twenty-eight now. He would have sworn she was twenty.</p> + +<p>"Joanne," he whispered, "you are wonderful. Your hair is glorious!"</p> + +<p>"Always—my hair," she replied, so low that he alone heard. "Can you never +see beyond my hair, John Aldous?"</p> + +<p>"I stop there," he said. "And I marvel. It is glorious!"</p> + +<p>"Again!" And up from her white throat there rose a richer, sweeter colour. +"If you say that again now, John Aldous, I shall never make curls for you +again as long as I live!"</p> + +<p>"For me——"</p> + +<p>His heart seemed near bursting with joy. But she had left him, and was +laughing with Peggy Blackton, who was showing her husband where he had +missed a stubbly patch of beard on his cheek. He caught her eyes, turned +swiftly to him, and they were laughing at him, and there came a sudden +pretty upturn to her chin as he continued to stare, and he saw again the +colour deepening in her face. When Peggy Blackton led her husband to the +stair, and drove him up to shave off the stubbly patch, Joanne found the +opportunity to whisper to him:</p> + +<p>"You are rude, John Aldous! You must not stare at me like that!"</p> + +<p>And as she spoke the rebellious colour was still in her face, in spite of +the tantalizing curve of her red lips and the sparkle in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," he pleaded. "You are—glorious!"</p> + +<p>During the next hour, and while they were at supper, he could see that she +was purposely avoiding his eyes, and that she spoke oftener to Paul +Blackton than she did to him, apparently taking the keenest interest in his +friend's enthusiastic descriptions of the mighty work along the line of +steel. And as pretty Peggy Blackton never seemed quite so happy as when +listening to her husband, he was forced to content himself by looking at +Joanne most of the time, without once receiving her smile.</p> + +<p>The sun was just falling behind the western mountains when Peggy and +Joanne, hurried most incontinently by Blackton, who had looked at his +watch, left the table to prepare themselves for the big event of the +evening.</p> + +<p>"I want to get you there before dusk," he explained. "So please hurry!"</p> + +<p>They were back in five minutes. Joanne had slipped on a long gray coat, and +with a veil that trailed a yard down her back she had covered her head. +Not a curl or a tress of her hair had she left out of its filmy prison, and +there was a mischievous gleam of triumph in her eyes when she looked at +Aldous.</p> + +<p>A moment later, when they went ahead of Blackton and his wife to where the +buckboard was waiting for them, he said:</p> + +<p>"You put on that veil to punish me, Ladygray?"</p> + +<p>"It is a pretty veil," said she.</p> + +<p>"But your hair is prettier," said he.</p> + +<p>"And you embarrassed me very much by staring as you did, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me. It is—I mean you are—so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"And you are sometimes—most displeasing," said she. "Your ingenuousness, +John Aldous, is shocking!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said again.</p> + +<p>"And you have known me but two days," she added.</p> + +<p>"Two days—is a long time," he argued. "One can be born, and live, and die +in two days. Besides, our trails have crossed for years."</p> + +<p>"But—it displeases me."</p> + +<p>"What I have said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the way I have looked at you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Her voice was low and quiet now, her eyes were serious, and she was not +smiling.</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," he groaned, and there was a deep thrill in his voice. +"It's been only two days after all, Ladygray. It seems like—like a +lifetime. I don't want you to think badly of me. God knows I don't!"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I don't," she said quickly and gently. "You are the finest +gentleman I ever knew, John Aldous. Only—it embarrasses me."</p> + +<p>"I will cut out my tongue and put out my eyes——"</p> + +<p>"Nothing so terrible," she laughed softly. "Will you help me into the +wagon? They are coming."</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand, warm and soft; and Blackton forced him into the seat +between her and Peggy, and Joanne's hand rested in his arm all the way to +the mountain that was to be blown up, and he told himself that he was a +fool if he were not supremely happy. The wagon stopped, and he helped her +out again, her warm little hand again close in his own, and when she looked +at him he was the cool, smiling John Aldous of old, so cool, and strong, +and unemotional that he saw surprise in her eyes first, and then that +gentle, gathering glow that came when she was proud of him, and pleased +with him. And as Blackton pointed out the mountain she unknotted the veil +under her chin and let it drop back over her shoulders, so that the last +light of the day fell richly in the trembling curls and thick coils of her +hair.</p> + +<p>"And that is my reward," said John Aldous, but he whispered it to himself.</p> + +<p>They had stopped close to a huge flat rock, and on this rock men were at +work fitting wires to a little boxlike thing that had a white button-lever. +Paul Blackton pointed to this, and his face was flushed with excitement.</p> + +<p>"That's the little thing that's going to blow it up, Miss Gray—the touch +of your finger on that little white button. Do you see that black base of +the mountain yonder?—right there where you can see men moving about? It's +half a mile from here, and the 'coyote' is there, dug into the wall of +it."</p> + +<p>The tremble of enthusiasm was in his voice as he went on, pointing with his +long arm: "Think of it! We're spending a hundred thousand dollars going +through that rock that people who travel on the Grand Trunk Pacific in the +future will be saved seven minutes in their journey from coast to coast! +We're spending a hundred thousand there, and millions along the line, that +we may have the smoothest roadbed in the world when we're done, and the +quickest route from sea to sea. It looks like waste, but it isn't. It's +science! It's the fight of competition! It's the determination behind the +forces—the determination to make this road the greatest road in the world! +Listen!"</p> + +<p>The gloom was thickening swiftly. The black mountain was fading slowly +away, and up out of that gloom came now ghostly and far-reaching voices of +men booming faintly through giant megaphones.</p> + +<p>"<i>Clear away! Clear away! Clear away!</i>" they said, and the valley and the +mountain-sides caught up the echoes, until it seemed that a hundred voices +were crying out the warning. Then fell a strange and weird silence, and the +echoes faded away like the voices of dying men, and all was still save the +far-away barking of a coyote that answered the mysterious challenges of the +night. Joanne was close to the rock. Quietly the men who had been working +on the battery drew back.</p> + +<p>"It is ready!" said one.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" said Blackton, as his wife went to speak, "Listen!"</p> + +<p>For five minutes there was silence. Then out of the night a single +megaphone cried the word:</p> + +<p>"<i>Fire!</i>"</p> + +<p>"All is clear," said the engineer, with a deep breath. "All you have to do, +Miss Gray, is to move that little lever from the side on which it now rests +to the opposite side. Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>In the darkness Joanne's left hand had sought John's. It clung to his +tightly. He could feel a little shiver run through her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Then—if you please—press the button!"</p> + +<p>Slowly Joanne's right hand crept out, while the fingers of her left clung +tighter to Aldous. She touched the button—thrust it over. A little cry +that fell from between her tense lips told them she had done the work, and +a silence like that of death fell on those who waited.</p> + +<p>A half a minute—perhaps three quarters—and a shiver ran under their feet, +but there was no sound; and then a black pall, darker than the night, +seemed to rise up out of the mountain, and with that, a second later, came +the explosion. There was a rumbling and a jarring, as if the earth were +convulsed under foot; volumes of dense black smoke shot upward, and in +another instant these rolling, twisting volumes of black became lurid, and +an explosion like that of a thousand great guns rent the air. As fast as +the eye could follow sheets of flame shot up out of the sea of smoke, +climbing higher and higher, in lightning flashes, until the lurid tongues +licked the air a quarter of a mile above the startled wilderness. Explosion +followed explosion, some of them coming in hollow, reverberating booms, +others sounding as if in midair. Unseen by the watchers, the heavens were +filled with hurtling rocks; solid masses of granite ten feet square were +thrown a hundred feet away; rocks weighing a ton were hurled still farther, +as if they were no more than stones flung by the hands of a giant; chunks +that would have crashed from the roof to the basement of a skyscraper +dropped a third of a mile away. For three minutes the frightful convulsions +continued, and the tongues of flame leaped into the night. Then the lurid +lights died out, shorter and shorter grew the sullen flashes, and then +again fell—silence!</p> + +<p>During those appalling moments, unconscious of the act, Joanne had shrank +close to Aldous, so that he felt the soft crush of her hair and the swift +movement of her bosom. Blackton's voice brought them back to life.</p> + +<p>He laughed, and it was the laugh of a man who had looked upon work well +done.</p> + +<p>"It has done the trick," he said. "To-morrow we will come and see. And I +have changed my plans about Coyote Number Twenty-eight. Hutchins, the +superintendent, is passing through in the afternoon, and I want him to see +it." He spoke now to a man who had come up out of the darkness. "Gregg, +have Twenty-eight ready at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon—four +o'clock—sharp!"</p> + +<p>Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Dust and a bad smell will soon be settling about us. Come, let's go home!"</p> + +<p>And as they went back to the buckboard wagon through the gloom John Aldous +still held Joanne's hand in his own, and she made no effort to take it from +him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>The next morning, when Aldous joined the engineer in the dining-room below, +he was disappointed to find the breakfast table prepared for two instead of +four. It was evident that Peggy Blackton and Joanne were not going to +interrupt their beauty nap on their account.</p> + +<p>Blackton saw his friend's inquiring look, and chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll have to get along without 'em this morning, old man. Lord +bless me, did you hear them last night—after you went to bed?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You were too far away," chuckled Blackton again, "I was in the room across +the hall from them. You see, old man, Peggy sometimes gets fairly starved +for the right sort of company up here, and last night they didn't go to bed +until after twelve o'clock. I looked at my watch. Mebby they were in bed, +but I could hear 'em buzzing like two bees, and every little while they'd +giggle, and then go on buzzing again. By George, there wasn't a break in +it! When one let up the other'd begin, and sometimes I guess they were both +going at once. Consequently, they're sleeping now."</p> + +<p>When breakfast was finished Blackton looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"Seven o'clock," he said. "We'll leave word for the girls to be ready at +nine. What are you going to do meantime, Aldous?"</p> + +<p>"Hunt up MacDonald, probably."</p> + +<p>"And I'll run down and take a look at the work."</p> + +<p>As they left the house the engineer nodded down the road. MacDonald was +coming.</p> + +<p>"He has saved you the trouble," he said. "Remember, Aldous—nine o'clock +sharp!"</p> + +<p>A moment later Aldous was advancing to meet the old mountaineer.</p> + +<p>"They've gone, Johnny," was Donald's first greeting.</p> + +<p>"Gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The whole bunch—Quade, Culver Rann, DeBar, and the woman who rode +the bear. They've gone, hide and hair, and nobody seems to know where."</p> + +<p>Aldous was staring.</p> + +<p>"Also," resumed old Donald slowly, "Culver Rann's outfit is gone—twenty +horses, including six saddles. An' likewise others have gone, but I can't +find out who."</p> + +<p>"Gone!" repeated Aldous again.</p> + +<p>MacDonald nodded.</p> + +<p>"And that means——"</p> + +<p>"That Culver Rann ain't lost any time in gettin' under way for the gold," +said Donald. "DeBar is with him, an' probably the woman. Likewise three +cut-throats to fill the other saddles. They've gone prepared to fight."</p> + +<p>"And Quade?"</p> + +<p>Old Donald hunched his shoulders, and suddenly John's face grew dark and +hard.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he spoke, half under his breath. "Quade has +disappeared—but he isn't with Culver Rann. He wants us to believe he has +gone. He wants to throw us off our guard. But he's watching, and +waiting—somewhere—like a hawk, to swoop down on Joanne! He——"</p> + +<p>"That's it!" broke in MacDonald hoarsely. "That's it, Johnny! It's his old +trick—his old trick with women. There's a hunderd men who've got to do his +bidding—do it 'r get out of the mountains—an' we've got to watch Joanne. +We have, Johnny! If she should disappear——"</p> + +<p>Aldous waited.</p> + +<p>"You'd never find her again, so 'elp me God, you wouldn't, Johnny!" he +finished.</p> + +<p>"We'll watch her," said Aldous quietly. "I'll be with her to-day, Mac, and +to-night I'll come down to the camp in the coulee to compare notes with +you. They can't very well steal her out of Blackton's house while I'm +gone."</p> + +<p>For an hour after MacDonald left him he walked about in the neighbourhood +of the Blackton bungalow smoking his pipe. Not until he saw the contractor +drive up in the buckboard did he return. Joanne and Peggy were more than +prompt. They were waiting. If such a thing were possible Joanne was more +radiantly lovely than the night before. To Aldous she became more beautiful +every time he looked at her. But this morning he did not speak what was in +his heart when, for a moment, he held her hand, and looked into her eyes. +Instead, he said:</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Ladygray. Have you used——"</p> + +<p>"I have," she smiled. "Only it's Potterdam's Tar Soap, and not the other. +And you—have not shaved, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott, so I haven't!" he exclaimed, rubbing his chin. "But I did +yesterday afternoon, Ladygray!"</p> + +<p>"And you will again this afternoon, if you please," she commanded. "I don't +like bristles."</p> + +<p>"But in the wilderness——"</p> + +<p>"One can shave as well as another can make curls," she reminded him, and +there came an adorable little dimple at the corner of her mouth as she +looked toward Paul Blackton.</p> + +<p>Aldous was glad that Paul and Peggy Blackton did most of the talking that +morning. They spent half an hour where the explosion of the night before +had blown out the side of the mountain, and then drove on to Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. It was in the face of a sandstone cliff, and all they could +see of it when they got out of the wagon was a dark hole in the wall of +rock. Not a soul was about, and Blackton rubbed his hands with +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Everything is completed," he said. "Gregg put in the last packing this +morning, and all we are waiting for now is four o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>The hole in the mountain was perhaps four feet square. Ten feet in front of +it the engineer paused, and pointed to the ground. Up out of the earth came +two wires, which led away from the mouth of the cavern.</p> + +<p>"Those wires go down to the explosives," he explained. "They're battery +wires half a mile long. But we don't attach the battery until the final +moment, as you saw last night. There might be an accident."</p> + +<p>He bent his tall body and entered the mouth of the cavern, leading his wife +by the hand. Observing that Joanne had seen this attention on the +contractor's part, Aldous held out his own hand, and Joanne accepted it. +For perhaps twenty feet they followed the Blacktons with lowered heads. +They seemed to have entered a black, cold pit, sloping slightly downward, +and only faintly could they see Blackton when he straightened.</p> + +<p>His voice came strange and sepulchral:</p> + +<p>"You can stand up now. We're in the chamber. Don't move or you might +stumble over something. There ought to be a lantern here."</p> + +<p>He struck a match, and as he moved slowly toward a wall of blackness, +searching for the lantern, he called back encouragingly through the gloom:</p> + +<p>"You folks are now standing right over ten tons of dynamite, and there's +another five tons of black powder——"</p> + +<p>A little shriek from Peggy Blackton stopped him, and his match went out.</p> + +<p>"What in heaven's name is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Peggy——"</p> + +<p>"Why in heaven's name do you light a match then, with us standing over all +those tons of dynamite?" demanded Peggy. "Paul Blackton, you're——"</p> + +<p>The engineer's laughter was like a giant's roar in the cavern, and Joanne +gave a gasp, while Peggy shiveringly caught Aldous by the arm.</p> + +<p>"There—I've got the lantern!" exclaimed Blackton. "There isn't any danger, +not a bit. Wait a minute and I'll tell you all about it." He lighted the +lantern, and in the glow of it Joanne's and Peggy's faces were white and +startled. "Why, bless my soul, I didn't mean to frighten you!" he cried. "I +was just telling you facts. See, we're standing on a solid floor—four feet +of packed rock and cement. The dynamite and black powder are under that. +We're in a chamber—a cave—an artificial cavern. It's forty feet deep, +twenty wide, and about seven high."</p> + +<p>He held the lantern even with his shoulders and walked deeper into the +cavern as he spoke. The others followed. They passed a keg on which was a +half-burned candle. Close to the keg was an empty box. Beyond these things +the cavern was empty.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was full of powder and dynamite," apologized Peggy.</p> + +<p>"You see, it's like this," Blackton began. "We put the powder and dynamite +down there, and pack it over solid with rock and cement. If we didn't leave +this big air-chamber above it there would be only one explosion, and +probably two thirds of the explosive would not fire, and would be lost. +This chamber corrects that. You heard a dozen explosions last night, and +you'll hear a dozen this afternoon, and the biggest explosion of all is +usually the fourth or fifth. A 'coyote' isn't like an ordinary blast or +shot. It's a mighty expensive thing, and you see it means a lot of work. +Now, if some one were to touch off those explosives at this minute—— +What's the matter, Peggy? Are you cold? You're shivering!"</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-e-s!" chattered Peggy.</p> + +<p>Aldous felt Joanne tugging at his hand.</p> + +<p>"Let's take Mrs. Blackton out," she whispered. "I'm—I'm—afraid she'll +take cold!"</p> + +<p>In spite of himself Aldous could not restrain his laughter until they had +got through the tunnel. Out in the sunlight he looked at Joanne, still +holding her hand. She withdrew it, looking at him accusingly.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless me!" exclaimed Blackton, who seemed to understand at last. +"There's no danger—not a bit!"</p> + +<p>"But I'd rather look at it from outside, Paul, dear," said Mrs. Blackton.</p> + +<p>"But—Peggy—if it went off now you'd be in just as bad shape out here!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think we'd be quite so messy, really I don't, dear," she +persisted.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless me!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"And they'd probably be able to find something of us," she added.</p> + +<p>"Not a button, Peggy!"</p> + +<p>"Then I'm going to move, if you please!" And suiting her action to the word +Peggy led the way to the buckboard. There she paused and took one of her +husband's big hands fondly in both her own. "It's perfectly wonderful, +Paul—and I'm proud of you!" she said. "But, honestly, dear, I can enjoy it +so much better at four o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Smiling, Blackton lifted her into the buckboard.</p> + +<p>"That's why I wish Paul had been a preacher or something like that," she +confided to Joanne as they drove homeward. "I'm growing old just thinking +of him working over that horrid dynamite and powder all the time. Every +little while some one is blown into nothing."</p> + +<p>"I believe," said Joanne, "that I'd like to do something like that if I +were a man. I'd want to be a man, not that preachers aren't men, Peggy, +dear—but I'd want to do things, like blowing up mountains for instance, or +finding buried cities, or"—she whispered, very, very softly under her +breath—"writing books, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>Only Aldous heard those last words, and Joanne gave a sharp little cry; and +when Peggy asked her what the matter was Joanne did not tell her that John +Aldous had almost broken her hand on the opposite side—for Joanne was +riding between the two.</p> + +<p>"It's lame for life," she said to him half an hour later, when he was +bidding her good-bye, preparatory to accompanying Blackton down to the +working steel. "And I deserve it for trying to be kind to you. I think some +writers of books are—are perfectly intolerable!"</p> + +<p>"Won't you take a little walk with me right after dinner?" he was asking +for the twentieth time.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it very, very much."</p> + +<p>"Please, Ladygray!"</p> + +<p>"I may possibly think about it."</p> + +<p>With that she left him, and she did not look back as she and Peggy Blackton +went into the house. But as they drove away they saw two faces at the +window that overlooked the townward road, and two hands were waving +good-bye. Both could not be Peggy Blackton's hands.</p> + +<p>"Joanne and I are going for a walk this afternoon, Blackton," said Aldous, +"and I just want to tell you not to worry if we're not back by four +o'clock. Don't wait for us. We may be watching the blow-up from the top of +some mountain."</p> + +<p>Blackton chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Don't blame you," he said. "From an observer's point of view, John, it +looks to me as though you were going to have something more than hope to +live on pretty soon!"</p> + +<p>"I—I hope so."</p> + +<p>"And when I was going with Peggy I wouldn't have traded a quiet little walk +with her—like this you're suggesting—for a front seat look at a blow-up +of the whole Rocky Mountain system!"</p> + +<p>"And you won't forget to tell Mrs. Blackton that we may not return by four +o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"I will not. And"—Blackton puffed hard at his pipe—"and, John—the Tête +Jaune preacher is our nearest neighbour," he finished.</p> + +<p>From then until dinner time John Aldous lived in an atmosphere that was not +quite real, but a little like a dream. His hopes and his happiness were at +their highest. He knew that Joanne would go walking with him that +afternoon, and in spite of his most serious efforts to argue to the +contrary he could not keep down the feeling that the event would mean a +great deal for him. Almost feverishly he interested himself in Paul +Blackton's work. When they returned to the bungalow, a little before noon, +he went to his room, shaved himself, and in other ways prepared for dinner.</p> + +<p>Joanne and the Blacktons were waiting when he came down.</p> + +<p>His first look at Joanne assured him. She was dressed in a soft gray +walking-suit. Never had the preparation of a dinner seemed so slow to him, +and a dozen times he found himself inwardly swearing at Tom, the Chinese +cook. It was one o'clock before they sat down at the table and it was two +o'clock when they arose. It was a quarter after two when Joanne and he left +the bungalow.</p> + +<p>"Shall we wander up on the mountain?" he asked. "It would be fine to look +down upon the explosion."</p> + +<p>"I have noticed that in some things you are very observant," said Joanne, +ignoring his question. "In the matter of curls, for instance, you are +unapproachable; in others you are—quite blind, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I lost my scarf this morning, and you did not notice it. It is quite an +unusual scarf. I bought it in Cairo, and I don't want to have it blown up."</p> + +<p>"You mean——"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I must have dropped it in the cavern. I had it when we entered."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll return for it," he volunteered. "We'll still have plenty of +time to climb up the mountain before the explosion."</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later they came to the dark mouth of the tunnel. There was +no one in sight, and for a moment Aldous searched for matches in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," he said. "I won't be gone two minutes."</p> + +<p>He entered, and when he came to the chamber he struck a match. The lantern +was on the empty box. He lighted it, and began looking for the scarf. +Suddenly he heard a sound. He turned, and saw Joanne standing in the glow +of the lantern.</p> + +<p>"Can you find it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I haven't—yet."</p> + +<p>They bent over the rock floor, and in a moment Joanne gave a little +exclamation of pleasure as she caught up the scarf. In that same moment, as +they straightened and faced each other, John Aldous felt his heart cease +beating, and Joanne's face had gone as white as death. The rock-walled +chamber was atremble; they heard a sullen, distant roaring, and as Aldous +caught Joanne's hand and sprang toward the tunnel the roar grew into a +deafening crash, and a gale of wind rushed into their faces, blowing out +the lantern, and leaving them in darkness. The mountain seemed crumbling +about them, and above the sound of it rang out a wild, despairing cry from +Joanne's lips. For there was no longer the brightness of sunshine at the +end of the tunnel, but darkness—utter darkness; and through that tunnel +there came a deluge of dust and rock that flung them back into the +blackness of the pit, and separated them.</p> + +<p>"John—John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"I am here, Joanne! I will light the lantern!"</p> + +<p>His groping hands found the lantern. He relighted it, and Joanne crept to +his side, her face as white as the face of the dead. He held the lantern +above him, and together they stared at where the tunnel had been. A mass of +rock met their eyes. The tunnel was choked. And then, slowly, each turned +to the other; and each knew that the other understood—for it was Death +that whispered about them now in the restless air of the rock-walled tomb, +a terrible death, and their lips spoke no words as their eyes met in that +fearful and silent understanding.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<br> + +<p>Joanne's white lips spoke first.</p> + +<p>"The tunnel is closed!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Her voice was strange. It was not Joanne's voice. It was unreal, terrible, +and her eyes were terrible as they looked steadily into his. Aldous could +not answer; something had thickened in his throat, and his blood ran cold +as he stared into Joanne's dead-white face and saw the understanding in her +eyes. For a space he could not move, and then, as suddenly as it had fallen +upon him, the effect of the shock passed away.</p> + +<a name="image-4"><!-- Image 4 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/004.jpg" height="470" width="300" +alt=""The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another.""> +</center> + +<h5>"The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."</h5> + +<p>He smiled, and put out a hand to her.</p> + +<p>"A slide of rock has fallen over the mouth of the tunnel," he said, forcing +himself to speak as if it meant little or nothing. "Hold the lantern, +Joanne, while I get busy."</p> + +<p>"A slide of rock," she repeated after him dumbly.</p> + +<p>She took the lantern, her eyes still looking at him in that stricken way, +and with his naked hands John Aldous set to work. Five minutes and he knew +that it was madness to continue. Hands alone could not clear the tunnel. +And yet he worked, tearing into the rock and shale like an animal; rolling +back small boulders, straining at larger ones until the tendons of his arms +seemed ready to snap and his veins to burst. For a few minutes after that +he went mad. His muscles cracked, he panted as he fought with the rock +until his hands were torn and bleeding, and over and over again there ran +through his head Blackton's last words—<i>Four o'clock this afternoon!--Four +o'clock this afternoon!</i></p> + +<p>Then he came to what he knew he would reach very soon, a solid wall! Rock +and shale and earth were packed as if by battering rams. For a few moments +he fought to control himself before facing Joanne. Over him swept the grim +realization that his last fight must be for her. He steadied himself, and +wiped the dust and grime from his face with his handkerchief. For the last +time he swallowed hard. His soul rose within him almost joyously now in the +face of this last great fight, and he turned—John Aldous, the super-man. +There was no trace of fear in his face as he went to her. He was even +smiling in that ghostly glow of the lantern.</p> + +<p>"It is hard work, Joanne."</p> + +<p>She did not seem to hear what he had said. She was looking at his hands. +She held the lantern nearer.</p> + +<p>"Your hands are bleeding, John!"</p> + +<p>It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he was +thrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of her +hand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raised +her eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he had +gazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, and +the moment was weighted with an appalling silence.</p> + +<p>It came to them both in that instant—the <i>tick-tick-tick</i> of the watch in +his pocket!</p> + +<p>Without taking her eyes from his face she asked:</p> + +<p>"What time is it. John?"</p> + +<p>"Joanne——"</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I am +not afraid now. What time is it, John?"</p> + +<p>"My God—they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't think +they won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide has +covered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger—none at +all. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!"</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she repeated softly.</p> + +<p>For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he saw +that she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivory +cross she was smiling at him—yes! she was smiling at him in that gray and +ghastly death-gloom of the cavern!</p> + +<p>He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it.</p> + +<p>"A quarter after three," he said. "By four o'clock they will be at +work—Blackton and twenty men. They will have us out in time for supper."</p> + +<p>"A quarter after three," repeated Joanne, and the words came steadily from +her lips. "That means——"</p> + +<p>He waited.</p> + +<p>"<i>We have forty-five minutes in which to live!</i>" she said.</p> + +<p>Before he could speak she had thrust the lantern into his hand, and had +seized his other hand in both her own.</p> + +<p>"If there are only forty-five minutes let us not lie to one another," she +said, and her voice was very close. "I know why you are doing it, John +Aldous. It is for me. You have done a great deal for me in these two days +in which one 'can be born, and live, and die.' But in these last minutes +I do not want you to act what I know cannot be the truth. You know—and I +know. The wires are laid to the battery rock. There is no hope. At four +o'clock—we both know what will happen. And I—am not afraid."</p> + +<p>She heard him choking for speech. In a moment he said:</p> + +<p>"There are other lanterns—Joanne. I saw them when I was looking for the +scarf. I will light them."</p> + +<p>He found two lanterns hanging against the rock wall. He lighted them, and +the half-burned candle.</p> + +<p>"It is pleasanter," she said.</p> + +<p>She stood in the glow of them when he turned to her, tall, and straight, +and as beautiful as an angel. Her lips were pale; the last drop of blood +had ebbed from her face; but there was something glorious in the poise of +her head, and in the wistful gentleness of her mouth and the light in her +eyes. And then, slowly, as he stood looking with a face torn in its agony +for her, she held out her arms.</p> + +<p>"John—John Aldous——"</p> + +<p>"Joanne! Oh, my God!--Joanne!"</p> + +<p>She swayed as he sprang to her, but she was smiling—smiling in that new +and wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heard +her say came low and sobbing:</p> + +<p>"John—John, if you want to, now—you can tell me that my hair is +beautiful!"</p> + +<p>And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him, +her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and over +again she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushed +forth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetful +of time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, her +hair, her eyes—conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life, +that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and that +over and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that she +loved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made him +free her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love had +overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour +and in her eyes was its glory.</p> + +<p>And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came—almost like +the benediction of a cathedral bell—the soft, low tinkling chime of the +half-hour bell in Aldous' watch!</p> + +<p>It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and +his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides.</p> + +<p>"Joanne—Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close +in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "I +have lived for you, I have waited for you—all these years you have been +coming, coming, coming to me—and now that you are mine—<i>mine</i>—it is +impossible! It cannot happen——"</p> + +<p>He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined the +packed tunnel. It was solid—not a crevice or a break through which might +have travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did not +shout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would be +terrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might be +some other opening—a possible exit—in that mountain wall? With the +lantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back to +Joanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he looked +at her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went to +her.</p> + +<p>"Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you are +not afraid?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>"And you know——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly against +their clasped hands and partly upon his breast.</p> + +<p>"And you love me, Joanne?"</p> + +<p>"As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"And yet it has been but two days——"</p> + +<p>"And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly.</p> + +<p>"You would be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"If you wanted me then, John."</p> + +<p>"I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me without +reservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me—you would come to me +body, and heart, and soul?"</p> + +<p>"In all those ways—yes."</p> + +<p>"I thank God," he breathed again.</p> + +<p>He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her love +grew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little for +him to kiss.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was happy—so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face. +"John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keep +myself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraid +you wouldn't tell me—before it happened. And John—John——"</p> + +<p>She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows in +her hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her—her glorious +hair—covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept and +piled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, and +shoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it.</p> + +<p>He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lips +pressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears, +pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the +<i>tick-tick-tick</i> of the watch in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Joanne," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, John."</p> + +<p>"You are not afraid of—death?"</p> + +<p>"No, not when you are holding me like this, John."</p> + +<p>He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips.</p> + +<p>"Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, my +John!"</p> + +<p>Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold.</p> + +<p>"Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice. +"Let us sit down, John—you on this box, and I on the floor, at your +feet—like this."</p> + +<p>He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, her +hands clasped in his.</p> + +<p>"I think, John," she said softly, "that very, very often we would have +visited like this—you and I—in the evening."</p> + +<p>A lump choked him, and he could not answer.</p> + +<p>"I would very often have come and perched myself at your feet like this."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my beloved."</p> + +<p>"And you would always have told me how beautiful my hair was—always. You +would not have forgotten that, John—or have grown tired?"</p> + +<p>"No, no—never!"</p> + +<p>His arms were about her. He was drawing her closer.</p> + +<p>"And we would have had beautiful times together, John—writing, and going +adventuring, and—and——"</p> + +<p>He felt her trembling, throbbing, and her arms tightened about him.</p> + +<p>And now, again up through the smother of her hair, came the +<i>tick-tick-tick</i> of his watch.</p> + +<p>He felt her fumbling at his watch pocket, and in a moment she was holding +the timepiece between them, so that the light of the lantern fell on the +face of it.</p> + +<p>"It is three minutes of four, John."</p> + +<p>The watch slipped from her fingers, and now she drew herself up so that her +arms were about his neck, and their faces touched.</p> + +<p>"Dear John, you love me?"</p> + +<p>"So much that even now, in the face of death, I am happy," he whispered. +"Joanne, sweetheart, we are not going to be separated. We are +going—together. Through all eternity it must be like this—you and I, +together. Little girl, wind your hair about me—tight!"</p> + +<p>"There—and there—and there, John! I have tied you to me, and you are +buried in it! Kiss me, John——"</p> + +<p>And then the wild and terrible fear of a great loneliness swept through +him. For Joanne's voice had died away in a whispering breath, and the lips +he kissed did not kiss him back, and her body lay heavy, heavy, heavy in +his arms. Yet in his loneliness he thanked God for bringing her oblivion in +these last moments, and with his face crushed to hers he waited. For he +knew that it was no longer a matter of minutes, but of seconds, and in +those seconds he prayed, until up through the warm smother of her +hair—with the clearness of a tolling bell—came the sound of the little +gong in his watch striking the Hour of Four!</p> + +<p>In space other worlds might have crumbled into ruin; on earth the stories +of empires might have been written and the lives of men grown old in those +first century-long seconds in which John Aldous held his breath and waited +after the chiming of the hour-bell in the watch on the cavern floor. How +long he waited he did not know; how closely he was crushing Joanne to his +breast he did not realize. Seconds, minutes, and other minutes—and his +brain ran red in dumb, silent madness. And the watch! It <i>ticked, ticked, +ticked!</i> It was like a hammer.</p> + +<p>He had heard the sound of it first coming up through her hair. But it was +not in her hair now. It was over him, about him—it was no longer a +ticking, but a throb, a steady, jarring, beating throb. It grew louder, +and the air stirred with it. He lifted his head. With the eyes of a madman +he stared—and listened. His arms relaxed from about Joanne, and she +slipped crumpled and lifeless to the floor. He stared—and that steady +<i>beat-beat-beat</i>—a hundred times louder than the ticking of a +watch—pounded in his brain. Was he mad? He staggered to the choked mouth +of the tunnel, and then there fell shout upon shout, and shriek upon shriek +from his lips, and twice, like a madman now, he ran back to Joanne and +caught her up in his arms, calling and sobbing her name, and then +shouting—and calling her name again. She moved; her eyes opened, and like +one gazing upon the spirit of the dead she looked into the face of John +Aldous, a madman's face in the lantern-glow.</p> + +<p>"John—John——"</p> + +<p>She put up her hands, and with a cry he ran with her in his arms to the +choked tunnel.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Listen!" he cried wildly. "Dear God in Heaven, Joanne—can you not +hear them? It's Blackton—Blackton and his men! Hear—hear the rock-hammers +smashing! Joanne—Joanne—we are saved!"</p> + +<p>She did not sense him. She swayed, half on her feet, half in his arms, as +consciousness and reason returned to her. Dazedly her hands went to his +face in their old, sweet way. Aldous saw her struggling to understand—to +comprehend; and he kissed her soft upturned lips, fighting back the +excitement that made him want to raise his voice again in wild and joyous +shouting.</p> + +<p>"It is Blackton!" he said over and over again. "It is Blackton and his men! +Listen!--you can hear their picks and the pounding of their rock-hammers!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<br> + +<p>At last Joanne realized that the explosion was not to come, that Blackton +and his men were working to save them. And now, as she listened with him, +her breath began to come in sobbing excitement between her lips—for there +was no mistaking that sound, that steady <i>beat-beat-beat</i> that came from +beyond the cavern wall and seemed to set strange tremors stirring in the +air about their ears. For a few moments they stood stunned and silent, as +if not yet quite fully comprehending that they had come from out of the pit +of death, and that men were fighting for their rescue. They asked +themselves no questions—why the "coyote" had not been fired? how those +outside knew they were in the cavern. And, as they listened, there came to +them a voice. It was faint, so faint that it seemed to whisper to them +through miles and miles of space—yet they knew that it was a voice!</p> + +<p>"Some one is shouting," spoke Aldous tensely. "Joanne, my darling, stand +around the face of the wall so flying rock will not strike you and I will +answer with my pistol!"</p> + +<p>When he had placed her in safety from split lead and rock chips, he drew +his automatic and fired it close up against the choked tunnel. He fired +five times, steadily, counting three between each shot, and then he placed +his ear to the mass of stone and earth and listened. Joanne slipped to him +like a shadow. Her hand sought his, and they held their breaths. They no +longer heard sounds—nothing but the crumbling and falling of dust and +pebbles where the bullets had struck, and their own heart-beats. The picks +and rock-hammers had ceased.</p> + +<p>Tighter and tighter grew the clasp of Joanne's fingers, and a terrible +thought flashed into John's brain. Perhaps a, rock from the slide had cut a +wire, and they had found the wire—had repaired it! Was that thought in +Joanne's mind, too? Her finger-nails pricked his flesh. He looked at her. +Her eyes were closed, and her lips were tense and gray. And then her eyes +shot open—wide and staring. They heard, faintly though it came to +them—once, twice, three times, four, five—the firing of a gun!</p> + +<p>John Aldous straightened, and a great breath fell from his lips.</p> + +<p>"Five times!" he said. "It is an answer. There is no longer doubt."</p> + +<p>He was holding out his arms to her, and she came into them with a choking +cry; and now she sobbed like a little child with her head against his +breast, and for many minutes he held her close, kissing her wet face, and +her damp hair, and her quivering lips, while the beat of the picks and the +crash of the rock-hammers came steadily nearer.</p> + +<p>Where those picks and rock-hammers fell a score of men were working like +fiends: Blackton, his arms stripped to the shoulders; Gregg, sweating and +urging the men; and among them—lifting and tearing at the rock like a +madman—old Donald MacDonald, his shirt open, his great hands bleeding, his +hair and beard tossing about him in the wind. Behind them, her hands +clasped to her breast—crying out to them to hurry, <i>hurry</i>—stood Peggy +Blackton. The strength of five men was in every pair of arms. Huge boulders +were rolled back. Men pawed earth and shale with their naked hands. +Rock-hammers fell with blows that would have cracked the heart of a granite +obelisk. Half an hour—three quarters—and Blackton came back to where +Peggy was standing, his face black and grimed, his arms red-seared where +the edges of the rocks had caught them, his eyes shining.</p> + +<p>"We're almost there, Peggy," he panted. "Another five minutes and——"</p> + +<p>A shout interrupted him. A cloud of dust rolled out of the mouth of the +tunnel, and into that dust rushed half a dozen men led by old Donald. +Before the dust had settled they began to reappear, and with a shrill +scream Peggy Blackton darted forward and flung her arms about the +gold-shrouded figure of Joanne, swaying and laughing and sobbing in the +sunshine. And old Donald, clasping his great arms about Aldous, cried +brokenly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnny, Johnny—something told me to foller ye—an' I was just in +time—just in time to see you go into the coyote!"</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Mac!" said Aldous, and then Paul Blackton was wringing his +hands; and one after another the others shook his hand, but Peggy Blackton +was crying like a baby as she hugged Joanne in her arms.</p> + +<p>"MacDonald came just in time," explained Blackton a moment later; and he +tried to speak steadily, and tried to smile. "Ten minutes more, and——"</p> + +<p>He was white.</p> + +<p>"Now that it has turned out like this I thank God that it happened, Paul," +said Aldous, for the engineer's ears alone. "We thought we were facing +death, and so—I told her. And in there, on our knees, we pledged ourselves +man and wife. I want the minister—as quick as you can get him, Blackton. +Don't say anything to Joanne, but bring him to the house right away, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"Within half an hour," replied Blackton. "There comes Tony with the +buckboard. We'll hustle up to the house and I'll have the preacher there in +a jiffy."</p> + +<p>As they went to the wagon, Aldous looked about for MacDonald. He had +disappeared. Requesting Gregg to hunt him up and send him to the bungalow, +he climbed into the back seat, with Joanne between him and Peggy. Her +little hand lay in his. Her fingers clung to him. But her hair hid her +face, and on the other side of her Peggy Blackton was laughing and talking +and crying by turns.</p> + +<p>As they entered the bungalow, Aldous whispered to Joanne:</p> + +<p>"Will you please go right to your room, dear? I want to say something to +you—alone."</p> + +<p>When she went up the stair, Peggy caught a signal from her husband. Aldous +remained with them. In two minutes he told the bewildered and finally +delighted Peggy what was going to happen, and as Blackton hustled out for +the minister's house he followed Joanne. She had fastened her door behind +her. He knocked. Slowly she opened it.</p> + +<p>"John——"</p> + +<p>"I have told them, dear," he whispered happily. "They understand. And, +Joanne, Paul Blackton will be back in ten minutes—with the minister. Are +you glad?"</p> + +<p>She had opened the door wide, and he was heading out his arms to her again. +For a moment she did not move, but stood there trembling a little, and +deeper and sweeter grew the colour in her face, and tenderer the look in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I must brush my hair," she answered, as though she could think of no other +words. "I—I must dress."</p> + +<p>Laughing joyously, he went to her and gathered the soft masses of her hair +in his hands, and piled it up in a glorious disarray about her face and +head, holding it there, and still laughing into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Joanne, you are mine!"</p> + +<p>"Unless I have been dreaming—I am, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"Forever and forever."</p> + +<p>"Yes, forever—and ever."</p> + +<p>"And because I want the whole world to know, we are going to be married by +a minister."</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>"And as my wife to be," he went on, his voice trembling with his happiness, +"you must obey me!"</p> + +<p>"I think that I shall, John."</p> + +<p>"Then you will not brush your hair, and you will not change your dress, and +you will not wash the dust from your face and that sweet little beauty-spot +from the tip of your nose," he commanded, and now he drew her head close to +him, so that he whispered, half in her hair: "Joanne, my darling, I want +you <i>wholly</i> as you came to me there, when we thought we were going to die. +It was there you promised to become my wife, and I want you as you were +then—when the minister comes."</p> + +<p>"John, I think I hear some one coming up the front steps!"</p> + +<p>They listened. The door opened. They heard voices—Blackton's voice, +Peggy's voice, and another voice—a man's voice.</p> + +<p>Blackton's voice came up to them very distinctly.</p> + +<p>"Mighty lucky, Peggy," he said. "Caught Mr. Wollaver just as he was passing +the house. Where's——"</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-hh!" came Peggy Blackton's sibilant whisper.</p> + +<p>Joanne's hands had crept to John's face.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said, "that it is the minister, John."</p> + +<p>Her warm lips were near, and he kissed them.</p> + +<p>"Come, Joanne. We will go down."</p> + +<p>Hand in hand they went down the stair; and when the minister saw Joanne, +covered in the tangle and glory of her hair; and when he saw John Aldous, +with half-naked arms and blackened face; and when, with these things, he +saw the wonderful joy shining in their eyes, he stood like one struck dumb +at sight of a miracle descending out of the skies. For never had Joanne +looked more beautiful than in this hour, and never had man looked more like +entering into paradise than John Aldous.</p> + +<p>Short and to the point was the little mountain minister's service, and when +he had done he shook hands with them, and again he stared at them as they +went back up the stair, still hand in hand. At her door they stopped. There +were no words to speak now, as her heart lay against his heart, and her +lips against his lips. And then, after those moments, she drew a little +back, and there came suddenly that sweet, quivering, joyous play of her +lips as she said:</p> + +<p>"And now, my husband, may I dress my hair?"</p> + +<p>"My hair," he corrected, and let her go from his arms.</p> + +<p>Her door closed behind her. A little dizzily he turned to his room. His +hand was on the knob when he heard her speak his name. She had reopened her +door, and stood with something in her hand, which she was holding toward +him. He went back, and she gave him a photograph.</p> + +<p>"John, you will destroy this," she whispered. "It is his +photograph—Mortimer FitzHugh's. I brought it to show to people, that it +might help me in my search. Please—destroy it!"</p> + +<p>He returned to his room and placed the photograph on his table. It was +wrapped in thin paper, and suddenly there came upon him a most compelling +desire to see what Mortimer FitzHugh had looked like in life. Joanne would +not care. Perhaps it would be best for him to know.</p> + +<p>He tore off the paper. And as he looked at the picture the hot blood in his +veins ran cold. He stared—stared as if some wild and maddening joke was +being played upon his faculties. A cry rose to his lips and broke in a +gasping breath, and about him the floor, the world itself, seemed slipping +away from under his feet.</p> + +<p>For the picture he held in his hand was the picture of Culver Rann!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<br> + +<p>For a minute, perhaps longer, John Aldous stood staring at the photograph +which he held in his hand. It was the picture of Culver Rann—not once did +he question that fact, and not once did the thought flash upon him that +this might be only an unusual and startling resemblance. It was assuredly +Culver Rann! The picture dropped from his hand to the table, and he went +toward the door. His first impulse was to go to Joanne. But when he reached +the door he locked it, and dropped into a chair, facing the mirror in his +dresser.</p> + +<p>The reflection of his own face was a shock to him. If he was pale, the dust +and grime of his fight in the cavern concealed his pallor. But the face +that stared at him from out of the glass was haggard, wildly and almost +grotesquely haggard, and he turned from it with a grim laugh, and set his +jaws hard. He returned to the table, and bit by bit tore the photograph +into thin shreds, and then piled the shreds on his ash-tray and burned +them. He opened a window to let out the smoke and smell of charring paper, +and the fresh, cool air of early evening struck his face. He could look off +through the fading sunshine of the valley and see the mountain where Coyote +Number Twenty-eight was to have done its work, and as he looked he gripped +the window-sill so fiercely that the nails of his fingers were bent and +broken against the wood. And in his brain the same words kept repeating +themselves over and over again. Mortimer FitzHugh was not dead. He was +alive. He was Culver Rann. And Joanne—Joanne was not <i>his</i> wife; she was +still the wife of Mortimer FitzHugh—of Culver Rann!</p> + +<p>He turned again to the mirror, and there was another look in his face. It +was grim, terribly grim—and smiling. There was no excitement, nothing of +the passion and half-madness with which he had faced Quade and Rann the +night before. He laughed softly, and his nails dug as harshly into the +palms of his hands as they had dug into the sills of the window.</p> + +<p>"You poor, drivelling, cowardly fool!" he said to his reflection. "And you +dare to say—you dare to <i>think</i> that she is not your wife?"</p> + +<p>As if in reply to his words there came a knock at the door, and from the +hall Blackton called:</p> + +<p>"Here's MacDonald, Aldous. He wants to see you."</p> + +<p>Aldous opened the door and the old hunter entered.</p> + +<p>"If I ain't interruptin' you, Johnny——"</p> + +<p>"You're the one man in the world I want to see, Mac. No, I'll take that +back; there's one other I want to see worse than you—Culver Rann."</p> + +<p>The strange look in his face made old Donald stare.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," he said, drawing two chairs close to the table. "There's +something to talk about. It was a terribly close shave, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"An awful close shave, Johnny. As close a shave as ever was."</p> + +<p>Still, as if not quite understanding what he saw, old Donald was staring +into John's face.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it happened," said Aldous, and his voice became softer. "She +loves me, Mac. It all came out when we were in there, and thought we were +going to die. Not ten minutes ago the minister was here, and he made us man +and wife."</p> + +<p>Words of gladness that sprang to the old man's lips were stopped by that +strange, cold, tense look in the face of John Aldous.</p> + +<p>"And in the last five minutes," continued Aldous, as quietly as before, "I +have learned that Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband, is not dead. Is it very +remarkable that you do not find me happy, Mac? If you had come a few +minutes ago——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God! Johnny! Johnny!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald had pitched forward over the table, and now he bowed his great +shaggy head in his hands, and his gaunt shoulders shook as his voice came +brokenly through his beard.</p> + +<p>"I did it, Johnny; I did it for you an' her! When I knew what it would mean +for her—I <i>couldn't</i>, Johnny, I couldn't tell her the truth, 'cause I knew +she loved you, an' you loved her, an' it would break her heart. I thought +it would be best, an' you'd go away together, an' nobody would ever know, +an' you'd be happy. I didn't lie. I didn't say anything. But +Johnny—Johnny, <i>there weren't no bones in the grave!</i>"</p> + +<p>"My God!" breathed Aldous.</p> + +<p>"There were just some clothes," went on MacDonald huskily, "an' the watch +an' the ring were on top. Johnny, there weren't nobody ever buried there, +an' I'm to blame—I'm to blame."</p> + +<p>"And you did that for us," cried Aldous, and suddenly he reached over and +gripped old Donald's hands. "It wasn't a mistake, Mac. I thank God you kept +silent. If you had told her that the grave was empty, that it was a fraud, +I don't know what would have happened. And now—she is <i>mine!</i> If she had +seen Culver Rann, if she had discovered that this scoundrel, this +blackmailer and murderer, was Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband——"</p> + +<p>"Johnny! John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>Donald MacDonald's voice came now like the deep growling roar of a +she-bear, and as he cried the other's name he sprang to his feet, and his +eyes gleamed in their deep sockets like raging fires.</p> + +<p>"Johnny!"</p> + +<p>Aldous rose, and he was smiling. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's it," he said. "Mortimer FitzHugh is Culver Rann!"</p> + +<p>"An'—an' you know this?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. Joanne gave me Mortimer FitzHugh's photograph to destroy. I am +sorry that I burned it before you saw it. But there is no doubt. Mortimer +FitzHugh and Culver Rann are the same man."</p> + +<p>Slowly the old mountaineer turned to the door. Aldous was ahead of him, and +stood with his hand on the knob.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to go yet, Mac."</p> + +<p>"I—I'll see you a little later," said Donald clumsily.</p> + +<p>"Donald!"</p> + +<p>"Johnny!"</p> + +<p>For a full half minute they looked steadily into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Only a week, Johnny," pleaded Donald. "I'll be back in a week."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you will kill him?"</p> + +<p>"He'll never come back. I swear it, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>As gently as he might have led Joanne, Aldous drew the mountaineer back to +the chair.</p> + +<p>"That would be cold-blooded murder," he said, "and I would be the murderer. +I can't send you out to do my killing, Mac, as I might send out a hired +assassin. Don't you see that I can't? Good heaven, some day—very soon—I +will tell you how this hound, Mortimer FitzHugh, poisoned Joanne's life, +and did his worst to destroy her. It's to me he's got to answer, Donald. +And to me he shall answer. I am going to kill him. But it will not be +murder. Since you have come into this room I have made my final plan, and I +shall follow it to the end coolly and deliberately. It will be a great +game, Mac—and it will be a fair game; and I shall play it happily, because +Joanne will not know, and I will be strengthened by her love.</p> + +<p>"Quade wants my life, and tried to hire Stevens, up at Miette, to kill me. +Culver Rann wants my life; a little later it will come to be the greatest +desire of his existence to have me dead and out of the way. I shall give +him the chance to do the killing, Mac. I shall give him a splendid chance, +and he will not fail to accept his opportunity. Perhaps he will have an +advantage, but I am as absolutely certain of killing him as I am that the +sun is going down behind the mountains out there. If others should step +in, if I should have more than Culver Rann on my hands—why, then you may +deal yourself a hand if you like, Donald. It may be a bigger game than One +against One."</p> + +<p>"It will," rumbled MacDonald. "I learned other things early this afternoon, +Johnny. Quade did not stay behind. He went with Rann. DeBar and the woman +are with them, and two other men. They went over the Lone Cache Pass, and +this minute are hurrying straight for the headwaters of the Parsnip. There +are five of 'em—five men."</p> + +<p>"And we are two," smiled Aldous. "So there <i>is</i> an advantage on their side, +isn't there, Mac? And it makes the game most eminently fair, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Johnny, we're good for the five!" cried old Donald in a low, eager voice. +"If we start now——"</p> + +<p>"Can you have everything ready by morning?"</p> + +<p>"The outfit's waiting. It's ready now, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll leave at dawn. I'll come to you to-night in the coulee, and +we'll make our final plans. My brain is a little muddled now, and I've got +to clear it, and make myself presentable before supper. We must not let +Joanne know. She must suspect nothing—absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing," repeated MacDonald as he went to the door.</p> + +<p>There he paused and, hesitating for a moment, leaned close to Aldous, and +said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Johnny, I've been wondering why the grave were empty. I've been wondering +why there weren't somebody's bones there just t' give it the look it should +'a' had an' why the clothes were laid out so nicely with the watch an' the +ring on top!"</p> + +<p>With that he was gone, and Aldous closed and relocked the door.</p> + +<p>He was amazed at his own composure as he washed himself and proceeded to +dress for supper. What had happened had stunned him at first, had even +terrified him for a few appalling moments. Now he was superbly +self-possessed. He asked himself questions and answered them with a +promptness which left no room for doubt in his mind as to what his actions +should be. One fact he accepted as absolute: Joanne belonged to him. She +was his wife. He regarded her as that, even though Mortimer FitzHugh was +alive. In the eyes of both God and man FitzHugh no longer had a claim upon +her. This man, who was known as Culver Rann, was worse than Quade, a +scoundrel of the first water, a procurer, a blackmailer, even a +murderer—though he had thus far succeeded in evading the rather loose and +poorly working tentacles of mountain law.</p> + +<p>Not for an instant did he think of Joanne as Culver Rann's wife. She was +<i>his</i> wife. It was merely a technicality of the law—a technicality that +Joanne might break with her little finger—that had risen now between them +and happiness. And it was this that he knew was the mountain in his path, +for he was certain that Joanne would not break that last link of bondage. +She would know, with Mortimer FitzHugh alive, that the pledge between them +in the "coyote," and the marriage ceremony in the room below, meant +nothing. Legally, she was no more to him now than she was yesterday, or the +day before. And she would leave him, even if it destroyed her, heart and +soul. He was sure of that. For years she had suffered her heart to be +ground out of her because of the "bit of madness" that was in her, because +of that earlier tragedy in her life—and her promise, her pledge to her +father, her God, and herself. Without arguing a possible change in her +because of her love for him, John Aldous accepted these things. He believed +that if he told Joanne the truth he would lose her.</p> + +<p>His determination not to tell her, to keep from her the secret of the grave +and the fact that Mortimer FitzHugh was alive, grew stronger in him with +each breath that he drew. He believed that it was the right thing to do, +that it was the honourable and the only thing to do. Now that the first +shock was over, he did not feel that he had lost Joanne, or that there was +a very great danger of losing her. For a moment it occurred to him that he +might turn the law upon Culver Rann, and in the same breath he laughed at +this absurdity. The law could not help him. He alone could work out his own +and Joanne's salvation. And what was to happen must happen very soon—up in +the mountains. When it was all over, and he returned, he would tell Joanne.</p> + +<p>His heart beat more quickly as he finished dressing. In a few minutes more +he would be with Joanne, and in spite of what had happened, and what might +happen, he was happy. Yesterday he had dreamed. To-day was reality—and it +was a glorious reality. Joanne belonged to him. She loved him. She was his +wife, and when he went to her it was with the feeling that only a serpent +lay in the path of their paradise—a serpent which he would crush with as +little compunction as that serpent would have destroyed her. Utterly and +remorselessly his mind was made up.</p> + +<p>The Blacktons' supper hour was five-thirty, and he was a quarter of an hour +late when he tapped at Joanne's door. He felt the warmth of a strange and +delightful embarrassment flushing his face as the door opened, and she +stood before him. In her face, too, was a telltale riot of colour which the +deep tan partly concealed in his own.</p> + +<p>"I—I am a little late, am I not, Joanne?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You are, sir. If you have taken all this time dressing you are worse than +a woman. I have been waiting fifteen minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Old Donald came to see me," he apologized. "Joanne——"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't, John!" she expostulated in a whisper. "My face is afire now! +You mustn't kiss me again—until after supper——"</p> + +<p>"Only once," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"If you will promise—just once——"</p> + +<p>A moment later she gasped:</p> + +<p>"Five times! John Aldous, I will never believe you again as long as I +live!"</p> + +<p>They went down to the Blacktons, and Peggy and Paul, who were busy over +some growing geraniums in the dining-room window, faced about with a forced +and incongruous appearance of total oblivion to everything that had +happened. It lasted less than ten seconds. Joanne's lips quivered. Aldous +saw the two little dimples at the corners of her mouth fighting to keep +themselves out of sight—and then he looked at Peggy. Blackton could stand +it no longer, and grinned broadly.</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake go to it, Peggy!" he laughed. "If you don't you'll +explode!"</p> + +<p>The next moment Peggy and Joanne were in each other's arms, and the two men +were shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"We know just how you feel," Blackton tried to explain. "We felt just like +you do, only we had to face twenty people instead of two. And you're not +hungry. I'll wager that. I'll bet you don't feel like swallowing a +mouthful. It had that peculiar effect on us, didn't it, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"And I—I almost choked myself," gurgled Peggy as they took their places at +the table. "There really did seem to be something thick in my throat, +Joanne, dear. I coughed and coughed and coughed before all those people +until I wanted to die right there! And I'm wondering——"</p> + +<p>"If I'm going to choke, too?" smiled Joanne. "Indeed not, Peggy. I'm as +hungry as a bear!"</p> + +<p>And now she did look glorious and self-possessed to Aldous as she sat +opposite him at that small round table, which was just fitted for four. He +told her so when the meal was finished, and they were following the +Blacktons into the front room. Blackton had evidently been carefully +drilled along the line of a certain scheme which Peggy had formed, for in +spite of a negative nod from her, which signified that he was to wait a +while, he pulled out his watch, and said:</p> + +<p>"It isn't at all surprising if you people have forgotten that to-morrow is +Sunday. Peggy and I always do some Saturday-night shopping, and if you +don't mind, we'll leave you to care for the house while we go to town. We +won't be gone more than an hour."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when the door had closed behind them, Aldous led +Joanne to a divan, and sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't have arranged it better myself, dear," he exclaimed. "I have +been wondering how I could have you alone for a few minutes, and tell you +what is on my mind before I see MacDonald again to-night. I'm afraid you +will be displeased with me, Joanne. I hardly know how to begin. But—I've +got to."</p> + +<p>A moment's uneasiness came into her eyes as she saw how seriously he was +speaking.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean, John—there's more about Quade—and Culver Rann?"</p> + +<p>"No, no—nothing like that," he laughed, as though amused at the absurdity +of her question. "Old Donald tells me they have skipped the country, +Joanne. It's not that. It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of +me a minute from now. Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald. He has +lived in my promise. I've got to keep that promise—I must go into the +North with him."</p> + +<p>She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her +own soft palm and fingers.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you must, John. I love old Donald."</p> + +<p>"And I must go—soon," he added.</p> + +<p>"It is only fair to him that you should," she agreed.</p> + +<p>"He—he is determined we shall go in the morning," he finished, keeping his +eyes from her.</p> + +<p>For a moment Joanne did not answer. Her fingers interweaved with his, her +warm little palm stroked the rough back of his hand. Then she said, very +softly:</p> + +<p>"And why do you think that will displease me, John, dear? I will be ready!"</p> + +<p>"You!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were on him, full, and dark, and glowing, and in them were both +love and laughter.</p> + +<p>"You dear silly John!" she laughed. "Why don't you come right out and tell +me to stay at home, instead of—of—'beating 'round the bush'—as Peggy +Blackton says? Only you don't know what a terrible little person you've +got, John. You really don't. So you needn't say any more. We'll start in +the morning—and I am going with you!"</p> + +<p>In a flash John Aldous saw his whole scheme shaking on its foundation.</p> + +<p>"It's impossible—utterly impossible!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"And why utterly?" she asked, bending her head so that her soft hair +touched his face and lips. "John, have you already forgotten what we said +in that terrible cavern—what we told ourselves we would have done if we +had lived? We were going adventuring, weren't we? And we are not dead—but +alive. And this will be a glorious trip! Why, John, don't you see, don't +you understand? It will be our honeymoon trip!"</p> + +<p>"It will be a long, rough journey," he argued. "It will be hard—hard for a +woman."</p> + +<p>With a little laugh, Joanne sprang up and stood before him in a glow of +light, tall, and slim, and splendid, and there was a sparkle of beautiful +defiance and a little of triumph in her eyes as she looked down on him.</p> + +<p>"And it will be dangerous, too? You are going to tell me that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will be dangerous."</p> + +<p>She came to him and rumpled up his hair, and turned his face up so that she +could look into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is it worse than fever, and famine, and deep swamps, and crawling +jungles?" she asked. "Are we going to encounter worse things than beasts, +and poisonous serpents, and murderous savages—even hunger and thirst, +John? For many years we dared those together—my father and I. Are these +great, big, beautiful mountains more treacherous than those Ceylon jungles +from which you ran away—even you, John? Are they more terrible to live in +than the Great African Desert? Are your bears worse than tigers, your +wolves more terrible than lions? And if, through years and years, I faced +those things with my father, do you suppose that I want to be left behind +now, and by my husband?"</p> + +<p>So sweet and wonderful was the sound of that name as it came softly from +her lips, that in his joy he forgot the part he was playing, and drew her +close down in his arms, and in that moment all that remained of the scheme +he had built for keeping her behind crumbled in ruin about him.</p> + +<p>Yet in a last effort he persisted.</p> + +<p>"Old Donald wants to travel fast—very fast, Joanne. I owe a great deal to +him. Even you I owe to him—for he saved us from the 'coyote.'"</p> + +<p>"I am going, John."</p> + +<p>"If we went alone we would be able to return very soon."</p> + +<p>"I am going."</p> + +<p>"And some of the mountains—it is impossible for a woman to climb them!"</p> + +<p>"Then I will let you carry me up them, John. You are so strong——"</p> + +<p>He groaned hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"Joanne, won't you stay with the Blacktons, to please me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I don't care to please you."</p> + +<p>Her fingers were stroking his cheek.</p> + +<p>"John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Father taught me to shoot, and as we get better acquainted on our +honeymoon trip I'll tell you about some of my hunting adventures. I don't +like to shoot wild things, because I love them too well. But I can shoot. +And I want a gun!"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!"</p> + +<p>"Not a toy—but a real gun," she continued. "A gun like yours. And then, if +by any chance we should have trouble—with Culver Rann——"</p> + +<p>She felt him start, and her hands pressed harder against his face.</p> + +<p>"Now I know," she whispered. "I guessed it all along. You told me that +Culver Rann and the others were after the gold. They've gone—and their +going isn't quite 'skipping the country' as you meant me to understand it, +John Aldous! So please let's not argue any more. If we do we may quarrel, +and that would be terrible. I'm going. And I will be ready in the morning. +And I want a gun. And I want you to be nice to me, and I want it to be our +honeymoon—even if it is going to be exciting!"</p> + +<p>And with that she put her lips to his, and his last argument was gone.</p> + +<p>Two hours later, when he went to the coulee, he was like one who had come +out of a strange and disturbing and altogether glorious dream. He had told +Joanne and the Blacktons that it was necessary for him to be with MacDonald +that night. Joanne's good-night kiss was still warm on his lips, the loving +touch of her hands still trembled on his face, and the sweet perfume of her +hair was in his nostrils. He was drunk with the immeasurable happiness that +had come to him, every fibre in him was aquiver with it—and yet, possessed +of his great joy, he was conscious of a fear; a fear that was new and +growing, and which made him glad when he came at last to the little fire in +the coulee.</p> + +<p>He did not tell MacDonald the cause of this fear at first. He told the +story of Mortimer FitzHugh and Joanne, leaving no part of it unbared, until +he could see Donald MacDonald's great gaunt hands clenching in the +firelight, and his cavernous eyes flaming darkly through the gloom. Then he +told what had happened when the Blacktons went to town, and when he had +finished, and rose despairingly beside the fire, Donald rose, too, and his +voice boomed in a sort of ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"My Jane would ha' done likewise," he cried in triumph. "She would that, +Johnny—she would!"</p> + +<p>"But this is different!" groaned Aldous. "What am I going to do, Mac? What +can I do? Don't you see how impossible it is! Mac, Mac—she isn't my +wife—not entirely, not absolutely, not in the last and vital sense of +being a wife by law! If she knew the truth, she wouldn't consider herself +my wife; she would leave me. For that reason I can't take her. I can't. +Think what it would mean!"</p> + +<p>Old Donald had come close to his side, and at the look in the gray old +mountaineer's face John Aldous paused. Slowly Donald laid his hands on his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Johnny," he said gently, "Johnny, be you sure of yourself? Be you a man, +Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Good heaven, Donald. You mean——"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met steadily.</p> + +<p>"If you are, Johnny," went on MacDonald in a low voice, "I'd take her with +me. An' if you ain't, I'd leave these mount'ins to-night an' never look in +her sweet face again as long as I lived."</p> + +<p>"You'd take her along?" demanded Aldous eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I would. I've been thinkin' it over to-night. An' something seemed to tell +me we mustn't dare leave her here alone. There's just two things to do, +Johnny. You've got to stay with her an' let me go on alone or—you've got +to take her."</p> + +<p>Slowly Aldous shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was a little after +ten.</p> + +<p>"If I could make myself believe that she would not be safe here—I would +take her," he said. "But I can't quite make up my mind to that, Mac. She +will be in good hands with the Blacktons. I will warn Paul. Joanne is +determined to go, and I know she will think it pretty indecent to be told +emphatically that she can't go. But I've got to do it. I can't see——"</p> + +<p>A break in the stillness of the night stopped him with the suddenness of a +bullet in his brain. It was a scream—a woman's scream, and there followed +it shriek after shriek, until the black forest trembled with the fear and +agony of the cries, and John Aldous stood as if suddenly stripped of the +power to move or act. Donald MacDonald roused him to life. With a roar in +his beard, he sprang forth into the darkness. And Aldous followed, a hot +sweat of fear in his blood where a moment before had been only a chill of +wonder and horror. For in Donald's savage beastlike cry he had caught +Joanne's name, and an answering cry broke from his own lips as he followed +the great gaunt form that was tearing with the madness of a wounded bear +ahead of him through the night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<br> + +<p>Not until they had rushed up out of the coulee and had reached the pathlike +trail did the screaming cease. For barely an instant MacDonald paused, and +then ran on with a speed that taxed Aldous to keep up. When they came to +the little open amphitheatre in the forest MacDonald halted again. Their +hearts were thumping like hammers, and the old mountaineer's voice came +husky and choking when he spoke.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't far—from here!" he panted.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he uttered the words when he sped on again. Three minutes +later they came to where the trail crossed the edge of a small +rock-cluttered meadow, and with a sudden spurt Aldous darted ahead of +MacDonald into this opening, where he saw two figures in the moonlight. +Half a dozen feet from them he stopped with a cry of horror. They were Paul +and Peggy Blackton! Peggy was dishevelled and sobbing, and was frantically +clutching at her husband. It was Paul Blackton who dragged the cry from his +lips. The contractor was swaying. He was hatless; his face was covered with +blood, and his eyes were only half open, as if he were fighting to pull +himself back into consciousness after a terrible blow. Peggy's hair was +down, her dress was torn at the throat, and she was panting so that for a +moment she could not speak.</p> + +<p>"They've got—Joanne!" she cried then. "They went—there!"</p> + +<p>She pointed, and Aldous ran where she pointed—into the timber on the far +side of the little meadow. MacDonald caught his arm as they ran.</p> + +<p>"You go straight in," he commanded. "I'll swing—to right—toward +river——"</p> + +<p>For two minutes after that Aldous tore straight ahead. Then for barely a +moment he stopped. He had not paused to question Peggy Blackton. His own +fears told him who Joanne's abductors were. They were men working under +instructions from Quade. And they could not be far away, for scarcely ten +minutes had passed since the first scream. He listened, and held his breath +so that the terrific beating of his heart would not drown the sound of +crackling brush. All at once the blood in him was frozen by a fierce yell. +It was MacDonald, a couple of hundred yards to his right, and after that +yell came the bellowing shout of his name.</p> + +<p>"Johnny! Johnny! Oh, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>He dashed in MacDonald's direction, and a few moments later heard the +crashing of bodies in the undergrowth. Fifty seconds more and he was in the +arena. MacDonald was fighting three men in a space over which the +spruce-tops grew thinly. The moon shone upon them as they swayed in a +struggling mass, and as Aldous sprang to the combat one of the three reeled +backward and fell as if struck by a battering-ram. In that same moment +MacDonald went down, and Aldous struck a terrific blow with the butt of his +heavy Savage. He missed, and the momentum of his blow carried him over +MacDonald. He tripped and fell. By the time he had regained his, feet the +two men had disappeared into the thick shadows of the spruce forest. Aldous +whirled toward the third man, whom he had seen fall. He, too, had +disappeared. A little lamely old Donald brought himself to his feet. He was +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Now, what do 'ee think, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Where is she? Where is Joanne?" demanded Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Twenty feet behind you, Johnny, gagged an' trussed up nice as a whistle! +If they hadn't stopped to do that work you wouldn't ha' seen her ag'in, +Johnny—s'elp me, God, you wouldn't! They was hikin' for the river. Once +they had reached the Frazer, and a boat——"</p> + +<p>He broke off to lead Aldous to a clump of dwarf spruce. Behind this, white +and still in the moonlight, but with eyes wide open and filled with horror, +lay Joanne. Hands and feet were bound, and a big handkerchief was tied over +her mouth. Twenty seconds later Aldous held her shivering and sobbing and +laughing hysterically by turns in his arms, while MacDonald's voice brought +Paul and Peggy Blackton to them. Blackton had recovered from the blow that +had dazed him. Over Joanne's head he stared at Aldous. And MacDonald was +staring at Blackton. His eyes were burning a little darkly.</p> + +<p>"It's all come out right," he said, "but it ain't a special nice time o' +night to be taking a' evening walk in this locality with a couple o' +ladies!"</p> + +<p>Blackton was still staring at Aldous, with Peggy clutching his arm as if +afraid of losing him.</p> + +<p>It was Peggy who answered MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"And it was a nice time of night for you to send a message asking us to +bring Joanne down the trail!" she cried, her voice trembling.</p> + +<p>"We——" began Aldous, when he saw a sudden warning movement on MacDonald's +part, and stopped. "Let us take the ladies home," he said.</p> + +<p>With Joanne clinging to him, he led the way. Behind them all MacDonald +growled loudly:</p> + +<p>"There's got t' be something done with these damned beasts of furriners. +It's gettin' so no woman ain't safe at night!"</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later they reached the bungalow. Leaving Joanne and Peggy +inside, now as busily excited as two phoebe birds, and after Joanne had +insisted upon Aldous sleeping at the Blacktons' that night, the two men +accompanied MacDonald a few steps on his way back to camp.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were out of earshot Blackton began cursing softly under his +breath.</p> + +<p>"So you didn't send that damned note?" he asked. "You haven't said so, but +I've guessed you didn't send it!"</p> + +<p>"No, we didn't send a note."</p> + +<p>"And you had a reason—you and MacDonald—for not wanting the girls to know +the truth?"</p> + +<p>"A mighty good reason," said Aldous. "I've got to thank MacDonald for +closing my mouth at the right moment. I was about to give it away. And now, +Blackton, I've got to confide in you. But before I do that I want your word +that you will repeat nothing of what I say to another person—even your +wife."</p> + +<p>Blackton nodded.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said. "I've suspected a thing or two, Aldous. I'll give you my +word. Go on."</p> + +<p>As briefly as possible, and without going deeply into detail, Aldous told +of Quade and his plot to secure possession of Joanne.</p> + +<p>"And this is his work," he finished. "I've told you this, Paul, so that you +won't worry about Peggy. You can see from to-night's events that they were +not after her, but wanted Joanne. Joanne must not learn the truth. And your +wife must not know. I am going to settle with Quade. Just how and where and +when I'm going to settle with him I don't care to say now. But he's going +to answer to me. And he's going to answer soon."</p> + +<p>Blackton whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"A boy brought the note," he said. "He stood in the dark when he handed it +to me. And I didn't recognize any one of the three men who jumped out on +us. I didn't have much of a chance to fight, but if there's any one on the +face of the earth who has got it over Peggy when it comes to screaming, I'd +like to know her name! Joanne didn't have time to make a sound. But they +didn't touch Peggy until she began screaming, and then one of the men began +choking her. They had about laid me out with a club, so I was helpless. +Good God——"</p> + +<p>He shuddered.</p> + +<p>"They were river men," said MacDonald. "Probably some of Tomman's scow-men. +They were making for the river."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when Aldous was saying good-night to MacDonald, the +old hunter said again, in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Now what do 'ee think, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"That you're right, Mac," replied Aldous in a low voice. "There is no +longer a choice. Joanne must go with us. You will come early?"</p> + +<p>"At dawn, Johnny."</p> + +<p>He returned to the bungalow with Blackton, and until midnight the lights +there burned brightly while the two men answered a thousand questions about +the night's adventure, and Aldous told of his and Joanne's plans for the +honeymoon trip into the North that was to begin the next day.</p> + +<p>It was half-past twelve when be locked the door of his and sat down to +think.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>There was no doubt in the mind of John Aldous now. The attempt upon Joanne +left him but one course to pursue: he must take her with him, in spite of +the monumental objections which he had seen a few hours before. He realized +what a fight this would mean for him, and with what cleverness and resource +he must play his part. Joanne had not given herself to him as she had once +given herself to Mortimer FitzHugh. In the "coyote," when they had faced +death, she had told him that were there to be a to-morrow in life for them +she would have given herself to him utterly and without reservation. And +that to-morrow had dawned. It was present. She was his wife. And she had +come to him as she had promised. In her eyes he had seen love and trust and +faith—and a glorious happiness. She had made no effort to hide that +happiness from him. Consciousness of it filled him with his own great +happiness, and yet it made him realize even more deeply how hard his fight +was to be. She was his wife. In a hundred little ways she had shown him +that she was proud of her wifehood. And again he told himself that she had +come to him as she had promised, that she had given into his keeping all +that she had to give. And yet—<i>she was not his wife!</i></p> + +<p>He groaned aloud, and his fingers dug into the flesh of his knees as he +thought of that. Could he keep that terrible truth from her? If she went +with him into the North, would she not guess? And, even though he kept the +truth from her until Mortimer FitzHugh was dead, would he be playing fair +with her? Again he went over all that he had gone over before. He knew that +Joanne would leave him to-morrow, and probably forever, if he told her that +FitzHugh was alive. The law could not help him, for only death—and never +divorce—would free her. Within himself he decided for the last time. He +was about to do the one thing left for him to do. And it was the honourable +thing, for it meant freedom for her and happiness for them both. To him, +Donald MacDonald had become a man who lived very close to the heart and the +right of things, and Donald had said that he should take her. This was the +greatest proof that he was right.</p> + +<p>But could he keep Joanne from guessing? Could he keep her from discovering +the truth until it was time for her to know that truth? In this necessity +of keeping her from suspecting that something was wrong he saw his greatest +fight. Compared with it, the final settlement with Quade and Mortimer +FitzHugh sank into a second importance. He knew what would happen then. But +Joanne—Joanne on the trail, as his wife——</p> + +<p>He began pacing back and forth in his room, clouding himself in the smoke +of his pipe. Frequently Joanne's mind had filled him with an exquisite +delight by its quickness and at times almost magic perceptiveness, and he +realized that in these things, and the fineness of her woman's intuition, +now lay his greatest menace. He was sure that she understood the meaning of +the assault upon her that night, though she had apparently believed what +he and Blackton had told them—that it had been the attack of +irresponsible and drunken hoodlums. Yet he was certain that she had already +guessed that Quade had been responsible.</p> + +<p>He went to bed, dreading what questions and new developments the morning +might bring forth. And when the morning came, he was both amazed and +delighted. The near tragedy of the previous night might never have happened +in so far as he could judge from Joanne's appearance. When she came out of +her room to meet him, in the glow of a hall lamp, her eyes were like stars, +and the colour in her cheeks was like that of a rose fresh from its slumber +in dew.</p> + +<p>"I'm so happy, and what happened last night seems so like a bad dream," she +whispered, as he held her close to him for a few moments before descending +the stairs. "I shall worry about Peggy, John. I shall. I don't understand +how her husband dares to bring her among savages like these. You wouldn't +leave me among them, would you?" And as she asked the question, and his +lips pressed hers, John Aldous still believed that in her heart she knew +the truth of that night attack.</p> + +<p>If she did know, she kept her secret from him all that day. They left Tête +Jaune before sunrise with an outfit which MacDonald had cut down to six +horses. Its smallness roused Joanne's first question, for Aldous had +described to her an outfit of twenty horses. He explained that a large +outfit made travel much more difficult and slow, but he did not tell her +that with six horses instead of twenty they could travel less +conspicuously, more easily conceal themselves from enemies, and, if +necessary, make quick flight or swift pursuit.</p> + +<p>They stopped to camp for the night in a little basin that drew from Joanne +an exclamation of joy and wonder. They had reached the upper timber-line, +and on three sides the basin was shut in by treeless and brush-naked walls +of the mountains. In the centre of the dip was a lake fed by a tiny stream +that fell in a series of ribbonlike cataracts a sheer thousand feet from +the snow-peaks that towered above them. Small, parklike clumps of spruce +dotted the miniature valley; over it hung a sky as blue as sapphire and +under their feet was a carpet of soft grass sprayed with little blue +forget-me-nots and wild asters.</p> + +<p>"I have never seen anything a half so beautiful as this!" cried Joanne, as +Aldous helped her from her horse.</p> + +<p>As her feet touched the ground she gave a little cry and hung limply in his +arms.</p> + +<p>"I'm lame—lame for life!" she laughed in mock humour. "John, I can't +stand. I really can't!"</p> + +<p>Old Donald was chuckling in his beard as he came up.</p> + +<p>"You ain't nearly so lame as you'll be to-morrow," he comforted her. "An' +you won't be nearly so lame to-morrow as you'll be next day. Then you'll +begin to get used to it, Mis' Joanne."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mrs. Aldous</i>, Donald," she corrected sweetly. "Or—just Joanne."</p> + +<p>At that Aldous found himself holding her so closely that she gave a little +gasp.</p> + +<p>"Please don't," she expostulated. "Your arms are terribly strong, John!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald had turned away, still chuckling, and began to unpack. Joanne +looked behind her, then quickly held up her softly pouted lips. Aldous +kissed her, and would have kissed her again but she slipped suddenly from +his arms and going to Pinto began to untie a dishpan that was fastened to +the top of his pack.</p> + +<p>"Get to work, John Aldous!" she commanded.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had camped before in the basin, and there were tepee poles ready +cut, as light and dry as matchwood. Joanne watched them as they put up the +tent, and when it was done, and she looked inside, she cried delightedly:</p> + +<p>"It's the snuggest little home I ever had, John!"</p> + +<p>After that she busied herself in a way that was a constantly growing +pleasure to him. She took possession at once of pots and pans and kettles. +She lost no time in impressing upon both Aldous and MacDonald the fact that +while she was their docile follower on the trail she was to be at the head +of affairs in camp. While they were straightening out the outfit, hobbling +the horses, and building a fire, she rummaged through the panniers and took +stock of their provisions. She bossed old Donald in a manner that made him +fairly glow with pleasure. She bared her white arms to the elbows and made +biscuits for the "reflector" instead of bannock, while Aldous brought water +from the lake, and MacDonald cut wood. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes +were laughing, joyous, happy. MacDonald seemed years younger. He obeyed her +like a boy, and once Aldous caught him looking at her in a way that set him +thinking again of those days of years and years ago, and of other camps, +and of another woman—like Joanne.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had thought of this first camp—and there were porterhouse steaks +for supper, which he had brought packed in a kettle of ice. When they sat +down to the meal, Joanne was facing a distant snow-capped ridge that cut +the skyline, and the last of the sun, reflected from the face of the +mountain on the east, had set brown-and-gold fires aglow in her hair. They +were partly through when her eyes rested on the distant snow-ridge. Aldous +saw her looking steadily. Suddenly she pointed beyond him.</p> + +<p>"I see something moving over the snow on that mountain!" she cried a little +excitedly. "It is hurrying toward the summit—just under the skyline! What +is it?"</p> + +<p>Aldous and MacDonald looked toward the ridge. Fully a mile away, almost +even with the skyline now, a small dark object was moving over the white +surface of the snow.</p> + +<p>"It ain't a goat," said MacDonald, "because a goat is white, and we +couldn't see it on the snow. It ain't a sheep, 'cause it's too dark, an' +movin' too slow. It must be a bear, but why in the name o' sin a bear would +be that high, I don't know!"</p> + +<p>He jumped up and ran for his telescope.</p> + +<p>"A grizzly," whispered Joanne tensely. "Would it be a grizzly, John?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly," he answered. "Indeed, it's very likely. This is a grizzly +country. If we hurry you can get a look at him through the telescope."</p> + +<p>MacDonald was already studying the object through his long glass when they +joined him.</p> + +<p>"It's a bear," he said.</p> + +<p>"Please—please let me look at him," begged Joanne.</p> + +<p>The dark object was now almost on the skyline. Half A minute more and it +would pass over and out of sight. MacDonald still held his eye to the +telescope, as though he had not heard Joanne. Not until the moving object +had crossed the skyline, and had disappeared, did he reply to her.</p> + +<p>"The light's bad, an' you couldn't have made him out very well," he said. +"We'll show you plenty o' grizzlies, an' so near you won't want a +telescope. Eh, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>As he looked at Aldous there was a strange look in his eyes, and during the +remainder of the supper he was restless, and ate hurriedly. When he had +finished he rose and picked up his long rifle.</p> + +<p>"There's sheep somewhere near this basin, Johnny," he explained. "An' I +reckon Joanne'll scold us if we don't keep her in fresh meat. I'm goin' to +bring in some mutton if there's any to be got, an' I probably won't be back +until after dark."</p> + +<p>Aldous knew that he had more to say, and he went with him a few steps +beyond the camp.</p> + +<p>And MacDonald continued in a low, troubled voice:</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Johnny. Watch yo'rself. I'm going to take a look over into the +next valley, an' I won't be back until late. It wasn't a goat, an' it +wasn't a sheep, an' it wasn't a bear. It was two-legged! It was a man, +Johnny, an' he was there to watch this trail, or my name ain't Donald +MacDonald. Mebby he came ahead of us last night, an' mebby he was here +before that happened. Anyway, be on your guard while I look over into the +next range."</p> + +<p>With that he struck off in the direction of the snow-ridge, and for a few +moments Aldous stood looking after the tall, picturesque figure until it +disappeared behind a clump of spruce. Swiftly he was telling himself that +it was not the hunting season, and that it was not a prospector whom they +had seen on the snow-ridge. As a matter of caution, there could be but one +conclusion to draw. The man had been stationed there either by Quade or +FitzHugh, or both, and had unwittingly revealed himself.</p> + +<p>He turned toward Joanne, who had already begun to gather up the supper +things. He could hear her singing happily, and as he looked she pressed a +finger to her lips and threw a kiss to him. His heart smote him even as he +smiled and waved a hand in response. Then he went to her. How slim and +wonderful she looked in that glow of the setting sun, he thought. How white +and soft were her hands, how tender and fragile her lovely neck! And how +helpless—how utterly helpless she would be if anything happened to him and +MacDonald! With an effort he flung the thought from him. On his knees he +wiped the dishes and pots and pans for Joanne. When this was done, he +seized an axe and showed her how to gather a bed. This was a new and +delightful experience for Joanne.</p> + +<p>"You always want to cut balsam boughs when you can get them," he explained, +pausing before two small trees. "Now, this is a cedar, and this is a +balsam. Notice how prickly and needlelike on all sides these cedar branches +are. And now look at the balsam. The needles lay flat and soft. Balsam +makes the best bed you can get in the North, except moss, and you've got to +dry the moss."</p> + +<p>For fifteen minutes he clipped off the soft ends of the balsam limbs and +Joanne gathered them in her arms and carried them into the tepee. Then he +went in with her, and showed her how to make the bed. He made it a narrow +bed, and a deep bed, and he knew that Joanne was watching him, and he was +glad the tan hid the uncomfortable glow in his face when he had finished +tucking in the end of the last blanket.</p> + +<p>"You will be as cozy as can be in that," he said.</p> + +<p>"And you, John?" she asked, her face flushing rosily. "I haven't seen +another tent for you and Donald."</p> + +<p>"We don't sleep in a tent during the summer," he said. "Just our +blankets—out in the open."</p> + +<p>"But—if it should rain?"</p> + +<p>"We get under a balsam or a spruce or a thick cedar."</p> + +<p>A little later they stood beside the fire. It was growing dusk. The distant +snow-ridge was swiftly fading into a pale and ghostly sheet in the gray +gloom of the night. Up that ridge Aldous knew that MacDonald was toiling.</p> + +<p>Joanne put her hands to his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Are you sorry—so very, very sorry that you let me come, John?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't let you come," he laughed softly, drawing her to him. "You came!"</p> + +<p>"And are you sorry?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>It was deliciously sweet to have her tilt up her head and put her soft lips +to his, and it was still sweeter when her tender hands stroked his cheeks, +and eyes and lips smiled their love and gladness. He stood stroking her +hair, with her face laying warm and close against him, and over her head he +stared into the thickening darkness of the spruce and cedar copses. Joanne +herself had piled wood on the fire, and in its glow they were dangerously +illuminated. With one of her hands she was still caressing his cheek.</p> + +<p>"When will Donald return?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Probably not until late," he replied, wondering what it was that had set a +stone rolling down the side of the mountain nearest to them. "He hunted +until dark, and may wait for the moon to come up before he returns."</p> + +<p>"John——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear?——" And mentally he measured the distance to the nearest clump +of timber between them and the mountain.</p> + +<p>"Let's build a big fire, and sit down on the pannier canvases."</p> + +<p>His eyes were still on the timber, and he was wondering what a man with a +rifle, or even a pistol, might do at that space. He made a good target, and +MacDonald was probably several miles away.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking about the fire," he said. "We must put it out, Joanne. +There are reasons why we should not let it burn. For one thing, the smoke +will drive any game away that we may hope to see in the morning."</p> + +<p>Her hands lay still against his cheek.</p> + +<p>"I—understand, John," she replied quickly, and there was the smallest bit +of a shudder in her voice. "I had forgotten. We must put it out!"</p> + +<p>Five minutes later only a few glowing embers remained where the fire had +been. He had spread out the pannier canvases, and now he seated himself +with his back to a tree. Joanne snuggled close to him.</p> + +<p>"It is much nicer in the dark," she whispered, and her arms reached up +about him, and her lips pressed warm and soft against his hand. "Are you +just a little ashamed of me, John?"</p> + +<p>"Ashamed? Good heaven——"</p> + +<p>"Because," she interrupted him, "we have known each other such a very short +time, and I have allowed myself to become so very, very well acquainted +with you. It has all been so delightfully sudden, and strange, and I +am—just as happy as I can be. You don't think it is immodest for me to say +these things to my husband, John—even if I have only known him three +days?"</p> + +<p>He answered by crushing her so closely in his arms that for a few moments +afterward she lay helplessly on his breast, gasping for breath. His brain +was afire with the joyous madness of possession. Never had woman come to +man more sweetly than Joanne had come to him, and as he felt her throbbing +and trembling against him he was ready to rise up and shout forth a +challenge to a hundred Quades and Culver Ranns hiding in the darkness of +the mountains. For a long time he held her nestled close in his arms, and +at intervals there were silences between them, in which they listened to +the glad tumult of their own hearts, and the strange silence that came to +them from out of the still night.</p> + +<p>It was their first hour alone—of utter oblivion to all else but +themselves; to Joanne the first sacrament hour of her wifehood, to him the +first hour of perfect possession and understanding. In that hour their +souls became one, and when at last they rose to their feet, and the moon +came up over a crag of the mountain and flooded them in its golden light, +there was in Joanne's face a tenderness and a gentle glory that made John +Aldous think of an angel. He led her to the tepee, and lighted a candle +for her, and at the last, with the sweet demand of a child in the manner of +her doing it, she pursed up her lips to be kissed good-night.</p> + +<p>And when he had tied the tent-flap behind her, he took his rifle and sat +down with it across his knees in the deep black shadow of a spruce, and +waited and listened for the coming of Donald MacDonald.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<br> + +<p>For an hour after Joanne had gone into her tent Aldous sat silent and +watchful. From where he had concealed himself he could see over a part of +the moonlit basin, and guard the open space between the camp and the clump +of timber that lay in the direction of the nearest mountain. After Joanne +had blown out her candle the silence of the night seemed to grow deeper +about him. The hobbled horses had wandered several hundred yards away, and +only now and then could he hear the thud of a hoof, or the clank of a steel +shoe on rock. He believed that it was impossible for any one to approach +without ears and eyes giving him warning, and he felt a distinct shock when +Donald MacDonald suddenly appeared in the moonlight not twenty paces from +him. With an ejaculation of amazement he jumped to his feet and went to +him.</p> + +<p>"How the deuce did you get here?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Were you asleep, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"I was awake—and watching!"</p> + +<p>The old hunter chuckled.</p> + +<p>"It was so still when I come to those trees back there that I thought mebby +something had 'appened," he said.</p> + +<p>"So, I sneaked up, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything over the range?" asked Aldous anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I found footprints in the snow, an' when I got to the top I smelled smoke, +but couldn't see a fire. It was dark then." MacDonald nodded toward the +tepee. "Is she asleep, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. She must be very tired."</p> + +<p>They drew back into the shadow of the spruce. It was a simultaneous +movement of caution, and both, without speaking their thoughts, realized +the significance of it. Until now they had had no opportunity of being +alone since last night.</p> + +<p>MacDonald spoke in a low, muffled voice:</p> + +<p>"Quade an' Culver Rann are goin' the limit, Johnny," he said. "They left +men on the job at Tête Jaune, and they've got others watching us. +Consequently, I've hit on a scheme—a sort of simple and unreasonable +scheme, mebby, but an awful good scheme at times."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever you see anything that ain't a bear, or a goat, or a sheep, don't +wait to change the time o' day—but shoot!" said MacDonald.</p> + +<p>Aldous smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"If I had any ideas of chivalry, or what I call fair play, they were taken +out of me last night, Mac," he said. "I'm ready to shoot on sight!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald grunted his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"They can't beat us if we do that, Johnny. They ain't even ordinary +cut-throats—they're sneaks in the bargain; an' if they could walk in our +camp, smilin' an' friendly, and brain us when our backs was turned, they'd +do it. We don't know who's with them, and if a stranger heaves in sight +meet him with a chunk o' lead. They're the only ones in these mountains, +an' we won't make any mistake. See that bunch of spruce over there?"</p> + +<p>The old hunter pointed to a clump fifty yards beyond the tepee toward the +little lake. Aldous nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll take my blankets over there," continued MacDonald. "You roll yourself +up here, and the tepee'll be between us. You see the system, Johnny? If +they make us a visit during the night we've got 'em between us, and +there'll be some real burying to do in the morning!"</p> + +<p>Back under the low-hanging boughs of the dwarf spruce Aldous spread out his +blanket a few minutes later. He had made up his mind not to sleep, and for +hours he lay watchful and waiting, smoking occasionally, with his face +close to the ground so that the odour of tobacco would cling to the earth. +The moon rose until it was straight overhead, flooding the valley in a +golden splendour that he wished Joanne might have seen. Then it began +sinking into the west; slowly at first, and then more swiftly, its radiance +diminished. He looked at his watch before the yellow orb effaced itself +behind the towering peak of a distant mountain. It was a quarter of two.</p> + +<p>With deepening darkness, his eyes grew heavier. He closed them for a few +moments at a time; and each time the interval was longer, and it took +greater effort to force himself into wakefulness. Finally he slept. But he +was still subconsciously on guard, and an hour later that consciousness was +beating and pounding within him, urging him to awake. He sat up with a +start and gripped his rifle. An owl was hooting—softly, very softly. There +were four notes. He answered, and a little later MacDonald came like a +shadow out of the gloom. Aldous advanced to meet him, and he noticed that +over the eastern mountains there was a break of gray.</p> + +<p>"It's after three, Johnny," MacDonald greeted him. "Build a fire and get +breakfast. Tell Joanne I'm out after another sheep. Until it's good an' +light I'm going to watch from that clump of timber up there. In half an +hour it'll be dawn."</p> + +<p>He moved toward the timber, and Aldous set about building a fire. He was +careful not to awaken Joanne. The fire was crackling cheerily when he went +to the lake for water. Returning he saw the faint glow of candlelight in +Joanne's tepee. Five minutes later she appeared, and all thought of danger, +and the discomfort of his sleepless night, passed from him at sight of her. +Her eyes were still a little misty with sleep when he took her in his arms +and kissed her, but she was deliciously alive, and glad, and happy. In one +hand she had brought a brush and in the other a comb.</p> + +<p>"You slept like a log," he cried happily. "It can't be that you had very +bad dreams, little wife?"</p> + +<p>"I had a beautiful dream, John," she laughed softly, and the colour flooded +up into her face.</p> + +<p>She unplaited the thick silken strands of her braid and began brushing her +hair in the firelight, while Aldous sliced the bacon. Some of the slices +were thick, and some were thin, for he could not keep his eyes from her as +she stood there like a goddess, buried almost to her knees in that wondrous +mantle. He found himself whistling with a very light heart as she braided +her hair, and afterward plunged her face in a bath of cold water he had +brought from the lake. From that bath she emerged like a glowing Naiad. +Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were pink and her lips full and red. Damp +little tendrils of hair clung adorably about her face and neck. For another +full minute Aldous paused in his labours, and he wondered if MacDonald was +watching them from the clump of timber. The bacon was sputtering when +Joanne ran to it and rescued it from burning.</p> + +<p>Dawn followed quickly after that first break of day in the east, but not +until one could see a full rifle-shot away did MacDonald return to the +camp. Breakfast was waiting, and as soon as he had finished the old hunter +went after the horses. It was five o'clock, and bars of the sun were +shooting over the tops of the mountains when once more they were in the +saddle and on their way.</p> + +<p>Most of this day Aldous headed the outfit up the valley. On the pretext of +searching for game MacDonald rode so far in advance that only twice during +the forenoon was he in sight. When they stopped to camp for the night his +horse was almost exhausted, and MacDonald himself showed signs of +tremendous physical effort. Aldous could not question him before Joanne. He +waited. And MacDonald was strangely silent.</p> + +<p>The proof of MacDonald's prediction concerning Joanne was in evidence this +second night. Every bone in her body ached, and she was so tired that she +made no objection to going to her bed as soon as it was dark.</p> + +<p>"It always happens like this," consoled old Donald, as she bade him +good-night. "To-morrow you'll begin gettin' broke in, an' the next day you +won't have any lameness at all."</p> + +<p>She limped to the tepee with John's arm snugly about her slim waist. +MacDonald waited patiently until he returned. He motioned Aldous to seat +himself close at his side. Both men lighted their pipes before the +mountaineer spoke.</p> + +<p>"We can't both sleep at once to-night, Johnny," he said. "We've got to take +turns keeping watch."</p> + +<p>"You've discovered something to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's what I haven't discovered that counts. There weren't no tracks in +this valley, Johnny, from mount'in to mount'in. They haven't travelled +through this range, an' that leaves just two things for us to figger on. +They're behind us—or DeBar is hitting another trail into the north. There +isn't no danger ahead right now, because we're gettin' into the biggest +ranges between here an' the Yukon. If Quade and Rann are in the next valley +they can't get over the mount'ins to get at us. Quade, with all his flesh, +couldn't climb over that range to the west of us inside o' three days, if +he could get over it at all. They're hikin' straight for the gold over +another trail, or they're behind us, an' mebby both."</p> + +<p>"How—both?" asked Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Two parties," explained MacDonald, puffing hard at his pipe. "If there's +an outfit behind us they were hid in the timber on the other side of the +snow-ridge, and they're pretty close this minute. Culver Rann—or FitzHugh, +as you call him—is hustling straight on with DeBar. Mebby Quade is with +him, an' mebby he ain't. Anyway, there's a big chance of a bunch behind us +with special instructions from Quade to cut our throats and keep Joanne."</p> + +<p>That day Aldous had been turning a question over in his own mind. He asked +it now.</p> + +<p>"Mac, are you sure you can go to the valley of gold without DeBar?"</p> + +<p>For a long half minute MacDonald looked at him, and then his voice rumbled +in a low, exultant laugh in his beard.</p> + +<p>"Johnny," he said, with a strange quiver in his voice, "I can go to it now +straighter an' quicker than DeBar! I know why I never found it. DeBar +helped me that much. The trail is mapped right out in my brain now, Johnny. +Five years ago I was within ten miles of the cavern—an' didn't know it!"</p> + +<p>"And we can get there ahead of them?"</p> + +<p>"We could—if it wasn't for Joanne. We're makin' twenty miles a day. We +could make thirty."</p> + +<p>"If we could beat them to it!" exclaimed Aldous, clenching his hands. "If +we only could, Donald—the rest would be easy!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald laid a heavy hand on his knee.</p> + +<p>"You remember what you told me, Johnny, that you'd play the game fair, and +give 'em a first chance? You ain't figgerin' on that now, be you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm with you now, Donald. It's——"</p> + +<p>"Shoot on sight!"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Aldous rose from his seat as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You turn in, Mac," he said. "You're about bushed after the work you've +done to-day. I'll keep first watch. I'll conceal myself fifty or sixty +yards from camp, and if we have visitors before midnight the fun will all +be mine."</p> + +<p>He knew that MacDonald was asleep within fifteen minutes after he had +stationed himself at his post. In spite of the fact that he had had almost +no sleep the preceding night, he was more than usually wakeful. He was +filled with a curious feeling that events were impending. Yet the hours +passed, the moon flooded the valley again, the horses grazed without alarm, +and nothing happened. He had planned not to awaken old Donald at midnight, +but MacDonald roused himself, and came to take his place a little before +twelve. From that hour until four Aldous slept like the dead. He was +tremendously refreshed when he arose, to find that the candle was alight in +Joanne's tepee, and that MacDonald had built a fire. He waited for Joanne, +and went with her to the tiny creek near the camp, where both bathed their +faces in the snow-cold water from the mountain tops. Joanne had slept +soundly for eight hours, and she was as fresh and as happy as a bird. Her +lameness was almost gone, and she was eager for the day's journey.</p> + +<p>As they filed again up the valley that morning, with the early sun +transfiguring the great snow-topped ranges about them into a paradise of +colour and warmth, Aldous found himself mentally wondering if it were +really possible that a serious danger menaced them. He did not tell +MacDonald what was in his mind. He did not confess that he was about ready +to believe that the man on the snow-ridge had been a hunter or a prospector +returning to his camp in the other valley, and that the attack in Tête +Jaune was the one and only effort Quade would make to secure possession of +Joanne. While a few hours before he had almost expected an immediate +attack, he was now becoming more and more convinced that Quade, to a large +extent, had dropped out of the situation. He might be with Mortimer +FitzHugh, and probably was—a dangerous and formidable enemy to be +accounted for when the final settlement came.</p> + +<p>But as an immediate menace to Joanne, Aldous was beginning to fear him less +as the hours passed. Joanne, and the day itself, were sufficient to disarm +him of his former apprehension. In places they could see for miles ahead +and behind them. And Joanne, each time that he looked at her, was a greater +joy to him. Constantly she was pointing out the wonders of the mountains to +him and MacDonald. Each new rise or fall in the valley held fresh and +delightful surprises for her; in the craggy peaks she pointed out +castlements, and towers, and battlemented strongholds of ancient princes +and kings. Her mind was a wild and beautiful riot of imagination, of +wonder, and of happiness, and in spite of the grimness of the mission they +were on even MacDonald found himself rejoicing in her spirit, and he +laughed and talked with them as they rode into the North.</p> + +<p>They were entering now into a hunter's paradise. For the first time Joanne +saw white, moving dots far up on a mountain-side, which MacDonald told her +were goats. In the afternoon they saw mountain sheep feeding on a slide +half a mile away, and for ten breathless minutes Joanne watched them +through the telescope. Twice caribou sped over the opens ahead of them. But +it was not until the sun was settling toward the west again that Joanne saw +what she had been vainly searching the sides of the mountains to find. +MacDonald had stopped suddenly in the trail, motioning them to advance. +When they rode up to him he pointed to a green slope two hundred yards +ahead.</p> + +<p>"There's yo'r grizzly, Joanne," he said.</p> + +<p>A huge, tawny beast was ambling slowly along the crest of the slope, and at +sight of him Joanne gave a little cry of excitement.</p> + +<p>"He's hunting for gophers," explained MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"That's why he don't seem in a hurry. He don't see us because a b'ar's eyes +are near-sighted, but he could smell us half a mile away if the wind was +right."</p> + +<p>He was unslinging his long rifle as he spoke. Joanne was near enough to +catch his arm.</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot—please don't shoot!" she begged. "I've seen lions, and I've +seen tigers—and they're treacherous and I don't like them. But there's +something about bears that I love, like dogs. And the lion isn't a king +among beasts compared with him. Please don't shoot!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to," chuckled old Donald. "I'm just getting ready to give +'im the proper sort of a handshake if he should happen to come this way, +Joanne. You know a grizzly ain't pertic'lar afraid of anything on earth as +I know of, an' they're worse 'n a dynamite explosion when they come +head-on. There—he's goin' over the slope!"</p> + +<p>"Got our wind," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>They went on, a colour in Joanne's face like the vivid sunset. They camped +two hours before dusk, and MacDonald figured they had made better than +twenty miles that day. The same precautions were observed in guarding the +camp as the night before, and the long hours of vigil were equally +uneventful. The next day added still more to Aldous' peace of mind +regarding possible attack from Quade, and on the night of this day, their +fourth in the mountains, he spoke his mind to MacDonald.</p> + +<p>For a few moments afterward the old hunter smoked quietly at his pipe. Then +he said:</p> + +<p>"I don't know but you're right, Johnny. If they were behind us they'd most +likely have tried something before this. But it ain't in the law of the +mount'ins to be careless. We've got to watch."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you there, Mac," replied Aldous. "We cannot afford to lose +our caution for a minute. But I'm feeling a deuced sight better over the +situation just the same. If we can only get there ahead of them!"</p> + +<p>"If Quade is in the bunch we've got a chance of beating them," said +MacDonald thoughtfully. "He's heavy, Johnny—that sort of heaviness that +don't stand up well in the mount'ins; whisky-flesh, I call it. Culver Rann +don't weigh much more'n half as much, but he's like iron. Quade may be a +drag. An' Joanne, Lord bless her!--she's facing the music like an' 'ero, +Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"And the journey is almost half over."</p> + +<p>"This is the fourth day. I figger we can make it in ten at most, mebby +nine," said old Donald. "You see we're in that part of the Rockies where +there's real mount'ins, an' the ranges ain't broke up much. We've got +fairly good travel to the end."</p> + +<p>On this night Aldous slept from eight until twelve. The next, their fifth, +his watch was from midnight until morning. As the sixth and the seventh +days and nights passed uneventfully the belief that there were no enemies +behind them became a certainty. Yet neither Aldous nor MacDonald relaxed +their vigilance.</p> + +<p>The eighth day dawned, and now a new excitement took possession of Donald +MacDonald. Joanne and Aldous saw his efforts to suppress it, but it did not +escape their eyes. They were nearing the tragic scenes of long ago, and old +Donald was about to reap the reward of a search that had gone faithfully +and untiringly through the winters and summers of forty years. He spoke +seldom that day. There were strange lights in his eyes. And once his voice +was husky and strained when he said to Aldous:</p> + +<p>"I guess we'll make it to-morrow, Johnny—jus' about as the sun's going +down."</p> + +<p>They camped early, and Aldous rolled himself in his blanket when Joanne +extinguished the candle in her tent. He found that he could not sleep, and +he relieved MacDonald at eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Get all the rest you can, Mac," he urged. "There may be doings +to-morrow—at about sundown."</p> + +<p>There was but little moonlight now, but the stars were clear. He lighted +his pipe, and with his rifle in the crook of his arm he walked slowly up +and down over a hundred-yard stretch of the narrow plain in which they had +camped. That night they had built their fire beside a fallen log, which was +now a glowing mass without flame. Finally he sat down with his back to a +rock fifty paces from Joanne's tepee. It was a splendid night. The air was +cool and sweet. He leaned back until his head rested against the rock, and +there fell upon him the fatal temptation to close his eyes and snatch a few +minutes of the slumber which had not come to him during the early hours of +the night. He was in a doze, oblivious to movement and the softer sounds of +the night, when a cry pierced the struggling consciousness of his brain +like the sting of a dart. In an instant he was on his feet.</p> + +<p>In the red glow of the log stood Joanne in her long white night robe. She +seemed to be swaying when he first saw her. Her hands were clutched at her +bosom, and she was staring—staring out into the night beyond the burning +log, and in her face was a look of terror. He sprang toward her, and out of +the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald. With a cry she turned to +Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms. +Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald +MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" cried Aldous. "What has frightened you, Joanne?"</p> + +<p>She was shuddering against his breast.</p> + +<p>"It—it must have been a dream," she said. "It—it frightened me. But it +was so terrible, and I'm—I'm sorry, John. I didn't know what I was doing."</p> + +<p>"What was it, dear?" insisted Aldous.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had drawn very close.</p> + +<p>Joanne raised her head.</p> + +<p>"Please let me go back to bed, John. It was only a dream, and I'll tell it +to you in the morning, when there's sunshine—and day."</p> + +<p>Something in MacDonald's tense, listening attitude caught Aldous' eyes.</p> + +<p>"What was the dream?" he urged.</p> + +<p>She looked from him to old Donald, and shivered.</p> + +<p>"The flap of my tepee was open," she said slowly. "I thought I was awake. I +thought I could see the glow of the fire. But it was a dream—a <i>dream</i>, +only it was horrible! For as I looked I saw a face out there in the light, +a white, searching face—and it was his face!"</p> + +<p>"Whose face?"</p> + +<p>"Mortimer FitzHugh's," she shuddered.</p> + +<p>Tenderly Aldous led her back to the tent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was surely an unpleasant dream, dear," he comforted her. "Try and +sleep again. You must get all the rest you can."</p> + +<p>He closed the flap after her, and turned back toward MacDonald. The old +hunter had disappeared. It was ten minutes before he came in from out of +the darkness. He went straight to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Johnny, you was asleep!"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I was, Mac—just for a minute."</p> + +<p>MacDonald's fingers gripped his arm.</p> + +<p>"Jus' for a minute, Johnny—an' in that minute you lost the chance of your +life!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean"—and old Donald's voice was filled with a low, choking tremble +that Aldous had never heard in it before—"I mean that it weren't no dream, +Johnny! Mortimer FitzHugh was in this camp to-night!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<br> + +<p>Donald MacDonald's startling assertion that Mortimer FitzHugh had been in +the camp, and that Joanne's dream was not a dream, but reality, brought a +gasp of astonishment and disbelief from Aldous. Before he had recovered +sufficiently from his amazement to speak, MacDonald was answering the +question in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I woke quicker'n you, Johnny," he said. "She was just coming out of the +tepee, an' I heard something running off through the brush. I thought mebby +it was a wolverine, or a bear, an' I didn't move until she cried out your +name an' you jumped up. If she had seen a bear in the fire-glow she +wouldn't have thought it was Mortimer FitzHugh, would she? It's possible, +but it ain't likely, though I do say it's mighty queer why he should be in +this camp alone. It's up to us to watch pretty close until daylight."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be here alone," asserted Aldous. "Let's get out of the light, +Mac. If you're right, the whole gang isn't far away!"</p> + +<p>"They ain't in rifle-shot," said MacDonald. "I heard him running a hundred +yards out there. That's the queer thing about it! Why didn't they jump on +us when they had the chance?"</p> + +<p>"We'll hope that it was a dream," replied Aldous. "If Joanne was dreaming +of FitzHugh, and while still half asleep saw something in camp, she might +easily imagine the rest. But we'll keep watch. Shall I move out there?"</p> + +<p>MacDonald nodded, and the two men separated. For two hours they patrolled +the darkness, waiting and listening. With dawn Aldous returned to camp to +arouse Joanne and begin breakfast. He was anxious to see what effect the +incident of the night had on her. Her appearance reassured him. When he +referred to the dream, and the manner in which she had come out into the +night, a lovely confusion sent the blushes into her face. He kissed her +until they grew deeper, and she hid her face on his neck.</p> + +<p>And then she whispered something, with her face still against his shoulder, +that drove the hot blood into his own cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You are my husband, John, and I don't suppose I should be ashamed to let +you see me in my bare feet. But, John—you have made me feel that way, and +I am—your wife!"</p> + +<p>He held her head close against him so that she could not see his face.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to show you—that I loved you—'that much," he said, scarcely +knowing what words he was speaking. "Joanne, my darling——"</p> + +<p>A soft hand closed his lips.</p> + +<p>"I know, John," she interrupted him softly. "And I love you so for it, and +I'm so proud of you—oh, so proud, John!"</p> + +<p>He was glad that MacDonald came crashing through the bush then. Joanne +slipped from his arms and ran into the tepee.</p> + +<p>In MacDonald's face was a grim and sullen look.</p> + +<p>"You missed your chance, all right, Johnny," he growled. "I found where a +horse was tied out there. The tracks lead to a big slide of rock that opens +a break in the west range. Whoever it was has beat it back into the other +valley. I can't understand, s'elp me God, I can't, Johnny! Why should +FitzHugh come over into this valley alone? And he <i>rode</i> over! I'd say the +devil couldn't do that!"</p> + +<p>He said nothing more, but went out to lead in the hobbled horses, leaving +Aldous in half-stunned wonderment to finish the preparation of breakfast. +Joanne reappeared a little later, and helped him. It was six o'clock before +breakfast was over and they were ready to begin their day's journey. As +they were throwing the hitch over the last pack, MacDonald said in a low +voice to Aldous:</p> + +<p>"Everything may happen to-day, Johnny. I figger we'll reach the end by +sundown. An' what don't happen there may happen along the trail. Keep a +rifle-shot behind with Joanne. If there's unexpected shooting, we want what +you might call a reserve force in the rear. I figger I can see danger, if +there is any, an' I can do it best alone."</p> + +<p>Aldous knew that in these last hours Donald MacDonald's judgment must be +final, and he made no objection to an arrangement which seemed to place the +old hunter under a more hazardous risk than his own. And he realized fully +that these were the last hours. For the first time he had seen MacDonald +fill his pockets with the finger-long cartridges for his rifle, and he had +noted how carefully he had looked at the breech of that rifle. Without +questioning, he had followed the mountaineer's example. There were fifty +spare cartridges in his own pockets. His .303 was freshly cleaned and +oiled. He had tested the mechanism of his automatic. MacDonald had watched +him, and both understood what such preparations meant as they set out on +this last day's journey into the North. They had not kept from Joanne the +fact that they would reach the end before night, and as they rode the +prescribed distance behind the old hunter Aldous wondered how much she +guessed, and what she knew. They had given her to understand that they were +beating out the rival party, but he believed that in spite of all their +efforts there was in Joanne's mind a comprehension which she did not reveal +in voice or look. To-day she was no different than yesterday, or the day +before, except that her cheeks were not so deeply flushed, and there was an +uneasy questing in her eyes. He believed that she sensed the nearness of +tragedy, that she was conscious of what they were now trying to hide from +her, and that she did not speak because she knew that he and MacDonald did +not want her to know. His heart throbbed with pride. Her courage inspired +him. And he noticed that she rode closer to him—always at his side through +that day.</p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon MacDonald stopped on the crest of a swell in the +valley and waited for them. When they came up he was facing the north. He +did not look at them. For a few moments he did not speak. His hat was +pulled low, and his beard was twitching.</p> + +<p>They looked ahead. At their feet the valley broadened until it was a mile +in width. Half a mile away a band of caribou were running for the cover of +a parklike clump of timber. MacDonald did not seem to notice them. He was +still looking steadily, and he was gazing at a mountain. It was a +tremendous mountain, a terrible-looking, ugly mountain, perhaps three miles +away. Aldous had never seen another like it. Its two huge shoulders were of +almost ebon blackness, and glistened in the sunlight as if smeared with +oil. Between those two shoulders rose a cathedral-like spire of rock and +snow that seemed to tip the white fleece of the clouds.</p> + +<p>MacDonald did not turn when he spoke. His voice was deep and vibrant with +an intense emotion. Yet he was not excited.</p> + +<p>"I've been hunting for that mount'in for forty years, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"Mac!"</p> + +<p>Aldous leaned over and laid a hand on the old mountaineer's shoulder. Still +MacDonald did not look at him.</p> + +<p>"Forty years," he repeated, as if speaking to himself. "I see how I missed +it now, just as DeBar said. I hunted from the west, an' on that side the +mount'in ain't black. We must have crossed this valley an' come in from the +east forty years ago, Johnny——"</p> + +<p>He turned now, and what Joanne and Aldous saw in his face was not grief; it +was not the sorrow of one drawing near to his beloved dead, but a joy that +had transfigured him. The fire and strength of the youth in which he had +first looked upon this valley with Jane at his side burned again in the +sunken eyes of Donald MacDonald. After forty years he had come into his +own. Somewhere very near was the cavern with the soft white floor of sand, +and for a moment Aldous fancied that he could hear the beating of +MacDonald's heart, while from Joanne's tender bosom there rose a deep, +sobbing breath of understanding.</p> + +<p>And MacDonald, facing the mountain again, pointed with a long, gaunt arm, +and said:</p> + +<p>"We're almost there, Johnny. God ha' mercy on them if they've beat us out!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<br> + +<p>They rode on into the Valley of Gold. Again MacDonald took the lead, and he +rode straight into the face of the black mountain. Aldous no longer made an +effort to keep Joanne in ignorance of what might be ahead of them. He put a +sixth cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, and carried the weapon +across the pommel of his saddle. He explained to her now why they were +riding behind—that if their enemies were laying in wait for them, +MacDonald, alone, could make a swift retreat. Joanne asked no questions. +Her lips were set tight. She was pale.</p> + +<p>At the end of three quarters of an hour it seemed to them that MacDonald +was riding directly into the face of a wall of rock. Then he swung sharply +to the left, and disappeared. When they came to the point where he had +turned they found that he had entered a concealed break in the mountain—a +chasm with walls that rose almost perpendicular for a thousand feet above +their heads. A dark and solemn gloom pervaded this chasm, and Aldous drew +nearer to MacDonald, his rifle held in readiness, and his bridle-rein +fastened to his saddle-horn. The chasm was short. Sunlight burst upon them +suddenly, and a few minutes later MacDonald waited for them again.</p> + +<p>Even Aldous could not restrain an exclamation of surprise when he rode up +with Joanne. Under them was another valley, a wide-sweeping valley between +two rugged ranges that ran to the southwest. Up out of it there came to +their ears a steady, rumbling roar; the air was filled with that roar; the +earth seemed to tremble with it under their feet—and yet it was not loud. +It came sullenly, as if from a great distance.</p> + +<p>And then they saw that MacDonald was not looking out over the sweep of the +valley, but down. Half a mile under them there was a dip—a valley within a +valley—and through it ran the silver sheen of a stream. MacDonald spoke no +word now. He dismounted and levelled his long telescope at the little +valley. Aldous helped Joanne from her horse, and they waited. A great +breath came at last from the old hunter. Slowly he turned. He did not give +the telescope to Aldous, but to Joanne. She looked. For a full minute she +seemed scarcely to breathe. Her hands trembled when she turned to give the +glass to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I see—log cabins!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>MacDonald placed a detaining hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Look ag'in—Joanne," he said in a low voice that had in it a curious +quiver.</p> + +<p>Again she raised the telescope to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You see the little cabin—nearest the river?" whispered Donald.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see it."</p> + +<p>"That was our cabin—Jane's an' mine—forty years ago," he said, and now +his voice was husky.</p> + +<p>Joanne's breath broke sobbingly as she gave Aldous the glass. Something +seemed to choke him as he looked down upon the scene of the grim tragedy +in which Donald MacDonald and Jane had played their fatal part. He saw the +cabins as they had stood for nearly half a century. There were four. Three +of them were small, and the fourth was large. They might have been built +yesterday, for all that he could see of ruin or decay. The doors and +windows of the larger cabin and two of the smaller ones were closed. The +roofs were unbroken. The walls appeared solid. Twice he looked at the +fourth cabin, with its wide-open door and window, and twice he looked at +the cabin nearest the stream, where had lived Donald MacDonald and Jane.</p> + +<p>Donald had moved, and Joanne was watching him tensely, when he took the +glass from his eyes. Mutely the old mountaineer held out a hand, and Aldous +gave him the telescope. Crouching behind a rock he slowly swept the valley. +For half an hour he looked through the glass, and in that time scarce a +word was spoken. During the last five minutes of that half-hour both Joanne +and Aldous knew that MacDonald was looking at the little cabin nearest the +stream, and with hands clasped tightly they waited in silence.</p> + +<p>At last old Donald rose, and his face and voice were filled with a +wonderful calm.</p> + +<p>"There ain't been no change," he said softly. "I can see the log in front +o' the door that I used to cut kindling on. It was too tough for them to +split an' burn after we left. An' I can see the tub I made out o' spruce +for Jane. It's leaning next the door, where I put it the day before we went +away. Forty years ain't very long, Johnny! It ain't very long!"</p> + +<p>Joanne had turned from them, and Aldous knew that she was crying.</p> + +<p>"An' we've beat 'em to it, Johnny—we've beat 'em to it!" exulted +MacDonald. "There ain't a sign of life in the valley, and we sure could +make it out from here if there was!"</p> + +<p>He climbed into his saddle, and started down the slope of the mountain. +Aldous went to Joanne. She was sobbing. Her eyes were blinded by tears.</p> + +<p>"It's terrible, terrible," she whispered brokenly. "And it—it's beautiful, +John. I feel as though I'd like to give my life—to bring Jane back!"</p> + +<p>"You must not betray tears or grief to Donald," said Aldous, drawing her +close in his arms for a moment. "Joanne—sweetheart—it is a wonderful +thing that is happening with him! I dreaded this day—I have dreaded it for +a long time. I thought that it would be terrible to witness the grief of a +man with a heart like Donald's. But he is not filled with grief, Joanne. It +is joy, a great happiness that perhaps neither you nor I can +understand—that has come to him now. Don't you understand? He has found +her. He has found their old home. To-day is the culmination of forty years +of hope, and faith, and prayer. And it does not bring him sorrow, but +gladness. We must rejoice with him. We must be happy with him. I love you, +Joanne. I love you above all else on earth or in heaven. Without you I +would not want to live. And yet, Joanne, I believe that I am no happier +to-day than is Donald MacDonald!"</p> + +<p>With a sudden cry Joanne flung her arms about his neck.</p> + +<p>"John, is it <i>that?</i>" she cried, and joy shone through her tears. "Yes, +yes, I understand now! His heart is not breaking. It is life returning into +a heart that was empty. I understand—oh, I understand now! And we must be +happy with him. We must be happy when we find the cavern—and Jane!"</p> + +<p>"And when we go down there to the little cabin that was their home."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes!"</p> + +<p>They followed behind MacDonald. After a little a spur of the mountain-side +shut out the little valley from them, and when they rounded this they found +themselves very near to the cabins. They rode down a beautiful slope into +the basin, and when he reached the log buildings old Donald stopped and +dismounted. Again Aldous helped Joanne from her horse. Ahead of them +MacDonald went to the cabin nearest the stream. At the door he paused and +waited for them.</p> + +<p>"Forty years!" he said, facing them. "An' there ain't been so very much +change as I can see!"</p> + +<p>Years had dropped from his shoulders in these last few minutes, and even +Aldous could not keep quite out of his face his amazement and wonder. Very +gently Donald put his hand to the latch, as though fearing to awaken some +one within; and very gently he pressed down on it, and put a bit of his +strength against the door. It moved inward, and when it had opened +sufficiently he leaned forward so that his head and a half of his shoulders +were inside; and he looked—a long time he looked, without a movement of +his body or a breath that they could see.</p> + +<p>And then he turned to them again, and his eyes were shining as they had +never seen them shine before.</p> + +<p>"I'll open the window," he said. "It's dark—dark inside."</p> + +<p>He went to the window, which was closed with a sapling barricade that had +swung on hinges; and when he swung it back the rusted hinges gave way, and +the thing crashed down at his feet. And now through the open window the sun +poured in a warm radiance, and Donald entered the cabin, with Joanne and +Aldous close behind him.</p> + +<p>There was not much in the cabin, but what it held was earth, and heaven, +and all else to Donald MacDonald. A strange, glad cry surged from his chest +as he looked about him, and now Joanne saw and understood what John Aldous +had told her—for Donald MacDonald, after forty years, had come back to his +home!</p> + +<p>"Oh, my Gawd, Johnny, they didn't touch anything! They didn't touch +anything!" he breathed in ecstasy. "I thought after we ran away they'd come +in——"</p> + +<p>He broke off, and his hat dropped from his hand, and he stood and stared; +and what he was looking at, the sun fell upon in a great golden splash, and +Joanne's hand gripped John's, and held to it tightly. Against the wall, +hanging as they had hung for forty years, were a woman's garments: a hood, +a shawl, a dress, and an apron that was half in tatters; and on the floor +under these things were <i>a pair of shoes</i>. And as Donald MacDonald went to +them, his arms reaching out, his lips moving, forgetful of all things but +that he had come home, and Jane was here, Joanne drew Aldous softly to the +door, and they went out into the day.</p> + +<p>Joanne did not speak, and Aldous did not urge her. He saw her white throat +throbbing as if there were a little heart beating there, and her eyes were +big and dark and velvety, like the eyes of a fawn that had been frightened. +There was a thickness in his own throat, and he found that it was difficult +for him to see far out over the plain. They waited near the horses. Fifty +yards from them ran the stream; a clear, beautiful stream which flowed in +the direction from which the mysterious ramble of thunder seemed to come. +This, Aldous knew, was the stream of gold. In the sand he saw wreckage +which he knew were the ancient rockers; a shovel, thrust shaft-deep, still +remained where it had last been planted.</p> + +<p>Perhaps for ten minutes Donald MacDonald remained in the cabin. Then he +came out. Very carefully he closed the door. His shoulders were thrown +back. His head was held high. He looked like a monarch.</p> + +<p>And his voice was calm.</p> + +<p>"Everything is there, Johnny—everything but the gold," he said. "They took +that."</p> + +<p>Now he spoke to Joanne.</p> + +<p>"You better not go with us into the other cabins," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Because—there's death in them all."</p> + +<p>"I am going," she said.</p> + +<p>From the window of the largest cabin MacDonald pulled the sapling shutter, +and, like the other, it fell at his feet. Then they opened the door, and +entered; and here the sunlight revealed the cabin's ghastly tragedy. The +first thing that they saw, because it was most terrible, was a rough table, +half over which lay the shrunken thing that had once been a man. A part of +its clothes still remained, but the head had broken from its column, and +the white and fleshless skull lay facing them. Out of tattered and +dust-crumbling sleeves reached the naked bones of hands and arms. And on +the floor lay another of these things, in a crumpled and huddled heap, only +the back of the skull showing, like the polished pate of a bald man. These +things they saw first, and then two others: on the table were a heap of +age-blackened and dusty sacks, and out of the back of the crumbling thing +that guarded them stuck the long buckhorn hilt of a knife.</p> + +<p>"They must ha' died fighting," said MacDonald. "An' there, Johnny, is their +gold!"</p> + +<p>White as death Joanne stood in the door and watched them. MacDonald and +Aldous went to the sacks. They were of buckskin. The years had not aged +them. When Aldous took one in his hands he found that it was heavier than +lead. With his knife MacDonald cut a slit in one of them, and the sun that +came through the window flashed in a little golden stream that ran from the +bag.</p> + +<p>"We'll take them out and put 'em in a pannier," said MacDonald. "The others +won't be far behind us, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Between them they carried out the seven sacks of gold. It was a load for +their arms. They put it in one of the panniers, and then MacDonald nodded +toward the cabin next the one that had been his own.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go in there, Joanne," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm going," she whispered again.</p> + +<p>"It was <i>their</i> cabin—the man an' his wife," persisted old Donald. "An' +the men was beasts, Joanne! I don't know what happened in there—but I +guess."</p> + +<p>"I'm going," she said again.</p> + +<p>MacDonald pulled down the barricade from the window—a window that also +faced the south and west, and this time he had to thrust against the door +with his shoulder. They entered, and now a cry came from Joanne's lips—a +cry that had in it horror, disbelief, a woman's wrath. Against the wall was +a pile of something, and on that pile was the searching first light of day +that had fallen upon it for nearly half a century. The pile was a man +crumpled down; across it, her skeleton arms thrown about it protectingly, +was a woman. This time Aldous did not go forward. MacDonald was alone, and +Aldous took Joanne from the cabin, and held her while she swayed in his +arms. Donald came out a little later, and there was a curious look of +exultation and triumph in his face.</p> + +<p>"She killed herself," he said. "That was her husband. I know him. I gave +him the rock-nails he put in the soles of his boots—and the nails are +still there."</p> + +<p>He went alone into the remaining two cabins, while Aldous stood with +Joanne. He did not stay long. From the fourth cabin he brought an armful of +the little brown sacks. He returned, and brought a second armful.</p> + +<p>"There's three more in that last cabin," he explained. "Two men, an' a +woman. She must ha' been the wife of the man they killed. They were the +last to live, an' they starved to death. An' now, Johnny——"</p> + +<p>He paused, and he drew in a great breath.</p> + +<p>He was looking to the west, where the sun was beginning to sink behind the +mountains.</p> + +<p>"An' now, Johnny, if you're ready, an' if Joanne is ready, we'll go," he +said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<br> + +<p>As they went up out of the basin into the broad meadows of the larger +valley, MacDonald rode between Aldous and Joanne, and the pack-horses, led +by Pinto, trailed behind.</p> + +<p>Again old Donald said, as he searched the valley:</p> + +<p>"We've beat 'em, Johnny. Quade an' Rann are coming up on the other side of +the range, and I figger they're just about a day behind—mebby only hours, +or an hour. You can't tell. There's more gold back there. We got about a +hunderd pounds in them fifteen sacks, an' there was twice that much. It's +hid somewhere. Calkins used to keep his'n under the floor. So did Watts. +We'll find it later. An' the river, an' the dry gulches on both sides of +the valley—they're full of it! It's all gold, Johnny—gold everywhere!"</p> + +<p>He pointed ahead to where the valley rose in a green slope between two +mountains half a mile away.</p> + +<p>"That's the break," he said. "It don't seem very far now, do it, Joanne?" +His silence seemed to have dropped from him like a mantle, and there was +joy in what he was telling. "But it was a distance that night—a tumble +distance," he continued, before she could answer. "That was forty-one years +ago, coming November. An' it was cold, an' the snow was deep. It was bitter +cold—so cold it caught my Jane's lungs, an' that was what made her go a +little later. The slope up there don't look steep now, but it was steep +then—with two feet of snow to drag ourselves through. I don't think the +cavern is more'n five or six miles away, Johnny, mebby less, an' it took us +twenty hours to reach it. It snowed so heavy that night, an' the wind +blowed so, that our trail was filled up or they might ha' followed."</p> + +<p>Many times Aldous had been on the point of asking old Donald a question. +For the first time he asked it now, even as his eyes swept slowly and +searchingly over the valley for signs of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade.</p> + +<p>"I've often wondered why you ran away with Jane," he said. "I know what +threatened her—a thing worse than death. But why did you run? Why didn't +you stay and fight?"</p> + +<p>A low growl rumbled in MacDonald's beard.</p> + +<p>"Johnny, Johnny, if I only ha' could!" he groaned. "There was five of them +left when I ran into the cabin an' barricaded myself there with Jane. I +stuck my gun out of the window an' they was afraid to rush the cabin. They +was <i>afraid</i>, Johnny, all that afternoon—<i>an' I didn't have a cartridge +left to fire!</i> That's why we went just as soon as we could crawl out in the +dark. I knew they'd come that night. I might ha' killed one or two hand to +hand, for I was big an' strong in them days, Johnny, but I knew I couldn't +beat 'em all. So we went."</p> + +<p>"After all, death isn't so very terrible," said Joanne softly, and she was +riding so close that for a moment she laid one of her warm hands on Donald +MacDonald's.</p> + +<p>"No, it's sometimes—wunnerful—an' beautiful," replied Donald, a little +brokenly, and with that he rode ahead, and Joanne and Aldous waited until +the pack-horses had passed them.</p> + +<p>"He's going to see that all is clear at the summit," explained Aldous.</p> + +<p>They seemed to be riding now right into the face of that mysterious rumble +and roar of the mountains. It was an hour before they all stood together at +the top of the break, and here MacDonald swung sharply to the right, and +came soon to the rock-strewn bed of a dried-up stream that in ages past had +been a wide and rushing torrent. Steadily, as they progressed down this, +the rumble and roar grew nearer. It seemed that it was almost under their +feet, when again MacDonald turned, and a quarter of an hour later they +found themselves at the edge of a small plain; and now all about them were +cold and towering mountains that shut out the sun, and a hundred yards to +their right was a great dark cleft in the floor of the plain, and up out of +this came the rumble and roar that was like the sullen anger of monster +beasts imprisoned deep down in the bowels of the earth.</p> + +<p>MacDonald got off his horse, and Aldous and Joanne rode up to him. In the +old man's face was a look of joy and triumph.</p> + +<p>"It weren't so far as I thought it was, Johnny!" he cried. "Oh, it must ha' +been a turrible night—a turrible night when Jane an' I come this way! It +took us twenty hours, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"We are near the cavern?" breathed Joanne.</p> + +<p>"It ain't more'n half a mile farther on, I guess. But we'll camp here. +We're pretty well hid. They can't find us. An' from that summit up there +we can keep watch in both valleys."</p> + +<p>Knowing the thoughts that were in MacDonald's mind, and how full his heart +was with a great desire, Aldous went to him when they had dismounted.</p> + +<p>"You go on alone if there is time to-night, Mac," he said, knowing that the +other would understand him. "I will make camp."</p> + +<p>"There ain't no one in the valley," mused the old man, a little doubtfully +at first. "It would be safe—quite safe, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will be safe."</p> + +<p>"And I will stand guard while John is working," said Joanne, who had come +to them. "No one can approach us without being seen."</p> + +<p>For another moment MacDonald hesitated. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Do you see that break over there across the plain? It's the open to a +gorge. Johnny, it do seem unreasonable—it do seem as though I must ha' +been dreamin'—when I think that it took us twenty hours! But the snow was +to my waist in this plain, an' it was slow work—turrible slow work! I +think the cavern—ain't on'y a little way up that gorge."</p> + +<p>"You can make it before the sun is quite gone."</p> + +<p>"An' I could hear you shout, or your gun. I could ride back in five +minutes—an' I wouldn't be gone an hour."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger," urged Aldous.</p> + +<p>A deep breath came from old Donald's breast.</p> + +<p>"I guess—I'll go, Johnny, if you an' Joanne don't mind."</p> + +<p>He looked about him, and then he pointed toward the face of a great rock.</p> + +<p>"Put the tepee up near that," he said. "Pile the saddles, an' the blankets, +an' the panniers around it, so it'll look like a real camp, Johnny. But it +won't be a real camp. It'll be a dummy. See them thick spruce an' cedar +over there? Build Joanne a shelter of boughs in there, an' take in some +grub, an' blankets, an' the gold. See the point, Johnny? If anything should +happen——"</p> + +<p>"They'd tackle the bogus camp!" cried Aldous with elation. "It's a splendid +idea!"</p> + +<p>He set at once about unpacking the horses, and Joanne followed close at his +side to help him. MacDonald mounted his horse and rode at a trot in the +direction of the break in the mountain.</p> + +<p>The sun had disappeared, but its reflection was still on the peaks; and +after he had stripped and hobbled the horses Aldous took advantage of the +last of day to scrutinize the plain and the mountain slopes through the +telescope. After that he found enough dry poles with which to set up the +tepee, and about this he scattered the saddles and panniers, as MacDonald +had suggested. Then he cleared a space in the thick spruce, and brought to +it what was required for their hidden camp.</p> + +<p>It was almost dark when he completed the spruce and cedar lean-to for +Joanne. He knew that to-night they must build no fire, not even for tea; +and when they had laid out the materials for their cold supper, which +consisted of beans, canned beef and tongue, peach marmalade, bread bannock, +and pickles and cheese, he went with Joanne for water to a small creek they +had crossed a hundred yards away. In both his hands, ready for instant +action, he carried his rifle. Joanne carried the pail. Her eyes were big +and bright and searching in that thick-growing dusk of night. She walked +very close to Aldous, and she said:</p> + +<p>"John, I know how careful you and Donald have been in this journey into the +North. I know what you have feared. Culver Rann and Quade are after the +gold, and they are near. But why does Donald talk as though we are <i>surely</i> +going to be attacked by them, or are <i>surely</i> going to attack them? I don't +understand it, John. If you don't care for the gold so much, as you told me +once, and if we find Jane to-morrow, or to-night, why do we remain to have +trouble with Quade and Culver Rann? Tell me, John."</p> + +<p>He could not see her face fully in the gloom, and he was glad that she +could not see his.</p> + +<p>"If we can get away without fighting, we will, Joanne," he lied. And he +knew that she would have known that he was lying if it had not been for the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"You won't fight—over the gold?" she asked, pressing his arm. "Will you +promise me that, John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I promise that. I swear it!" he cried, and so forcefully that she +gave a glad little laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then if they don't find us to-morrow, we'll go back home?" She trembled, +and he knew that her heart was filled with a sudden lightness. "And I don't +believe they will find us. They won't come beyond that terrible place—and +the gold! Why should they, John? Why should they follow us—if we leave +them everything? Oh-h-h-h!" She shuddered, and whispered: "I wish we had +not brought the gold, John. I wish we had left it behind!"</p> + +<p>"What we have is worth thirty or forty thousand dollars," he said +reassuringly, as he filled his pail with water and they began to return. +"We can do a great deal of good with that. Endowments, for instance," he +laughed.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, they both stopped, and listened. Plainly they heard the +approaching thud of hoofs. MacDonald had been gone nearer two hours than +one, and believing that it was him, Aldous gave the owl signal. The signal +floated back to them softly. Five minutes later MacDonald rode up and +dismounted. Until he had taken the saddle off, and had hobbled his horse, +he did not speak. Neither Joanne nor Aldous asked the question that was in +their hearts. But even in the darkness they felt something. It was as if +not only the torrent rushing through the chasm, but MacDonald's heart as +well, was charging the air with a strange and subdued excitement. And when +MacDonald spoke, that which they had felt was in his voice.</p> + +<p>"You ain't seen or heard anything, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. And you—Donald?"</p> + +<p>In the darkness, Joanne went to the old man, and her hand found one of his, +and clasped it tightly; and she found that Donald MacDonald's big hand was +trembling in a strange and curious way, and she could feel him quivering.</p> + +<p>"You found Jane?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I found her, little Joanne."</p> + +<p>She did not let go of his hand until they entered the open space which +Aldous had made in the spruce. Then she remembered what Aldous had said to +her earlier in the day, and cheerfully she lighted the two candles they +had set out, and forced Aldous down first upon the ground, and then +MacDonald, and began to help them to beans and meat and bannock, while all +the time her heart was crying out to know about the cavern—and Jane. The +candleglow told her a great deal, for in it Donald MacDonald's face was +very calm, and filled with a great peace, despite the trembling she had +felt. Her woman's sympathy told her that his heart was too full on this +night for speech, and when he ate but little she did not urge him to eat +more; and when he rose and went silently and alone out into the darkness +she held Aldous back; and when, still a little later, she went into her +nest for the night, she whispered softly to him:</p> + +<p>"I know that he found Jane as he wanted to find her, and he is happy. I +think he has gone out there alone—to cry." And for a time after that, as +he sat in the gloom, John Aldous knew that Joanne was sobbing like a little +child in the spruce and cedar shelter he had built for her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>If MacDonald slept at all that night Aldous did not know it. The old +mountaineer watched until a little after twelve in the deep shadow of a +rock between the two camps.</p> + +<p>"I can't sleep," he protested, when Aldous urged him to take his rest. "I +might take a little stroll up the plain, Johnny—but I can't sleep."</p> + +<p>The plain lay in a brilliant starlight at this hour; they could see the +gleam of the snow-peaks—the light was almost like the glow of the moon.</p> + +<p>"There'll be plenty of sleep after to-morrow," added MacDonald, and there +was a finality in his voice and words which set the other's blood stirring.</p> + +<p>"You think they will show up to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. This is the same valley the cabins are in, Johnny. That big mountain +runs out an' splits it, an' it curves like a horseshoe. From that mount'in +we can see them, no matter which way they come. They'll go straight to the +cabins. There's a deep little run under the slope. You didn't see it when +we came out, but it'll take us within a hunderd yards of 'em. An' at a +hunderd yards——"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders suggestively in the starlight, and there was a +smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"It seems almost like murder," shuddered Aldous.</p> + +<p>"But it ain't,'" replied MacDonald quickly. "It's self-defence! If we +don't do it, Johnny—if we don't draw on them first, what happened there +forty years ago is goin' to happen again—with Joanne!"</p> + +<p>"A hundred yards," breathed Aldous, his jaws setting hard. "And there are +five!"</p> + +<p>"They'll go into the cabins," said MacDonald. "At some time there will be +two or three outside, an' we'll take them first. At the sound of the shots +the others will run out, and it will be easy. Yo' can't very well miss a +man at a hunderd yards, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't miss."</p> + +<p>MacDonald rose.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to take a little stroll, Johnny."</p> + +<p>For two hours after that Aldous was alone. He knew why old Donald could not +sleep, and where he had gone, and he pictured him sitting before the little +old cabin in the starlit valley communing with the spirit of Jane. And +during those two hours he steeled himself for the last time to the thing +that was going to happen when the day came.</p> + +<p>It was nearly three o'clock when MacDonald returned. It was four o'clock +before he roused Joanne; and it was five o'clock when they had eaten their +breakfast, and MacDonald prepared to leave for the mountain with his +telescope. Aldous had observed Joanne talking to him for several minutes +alone, and he had also observed that her eyes were very bright, and that +there was an unusual eagerness in her manner of listening to what the old +man was saying. The significance of this did not occur to him when she +urged him to accompany MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Two pairs of eyes are better than one, John," she said, "and I cannot +possibly be in danger here. I can see you all the time, and you can see +me—if I don't run away, or hide." And she laughed a little breathlessly. +"There is no danger, is there, Donald?"</p> + +<p>The old hunter shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There's no danger, but—you might be lonesome," he said.</p> + +<p>Joanne put her pretty mouth close to Aldous' ear.</p> + +<p>"I want to be alone for a little while, dear," she whispered, and there was +that mystery in her voice which kept him from questioning her, and made him +go with MacDonald.</p> + +<p>In three quarters of an hour they had reached the spur of the mountain from +which MacDonald had said they could see up the valley, and also the break +through which they had come the preceding afternoon. The morning mists +still hung low, but as these melted away under the sun mile after mile of a +marvellous panorama spread out swiftly under them, and as the distance of +their vision grew, the deeper became the disappointment in MacDonald's +face. For half an hour after the mists had gone he neither spoke nor +lowered the telescope from his eyes. A mile away Aldous saw three caribou +crossing the valley. A little later, on a green slope, he discerned a +moving hulk that he knew was a bear. He did not speak until old Donald +lowered the glass.</p> + +<p>"I can see for eight miles up the valley, an' there ain't a soul in sight," +said MacDonald in answer to his question. "I figgered they'd be along about +now, Johnny."</p> + +<p>A dozen times Aldous had looked back at the camp. Twice he had seen Joanne. +He looked now through the telescope. She was nowhere in sight. A bit +nervously he returned the telescope to MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"And I can't see Joanne," he said.</p> + +<p>MacDonald looked. For five minutes he levelled the glass steadily at the +camp. Then he shifted it slowly westward, and a low exclamation broke from +his lips as he lowered the glass, and looked at Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Johnny, she's just goin' into the gorge! She was just disappearin' when I +caught her!"</p> + +<p>"Going into—the gorge!" gasped Aldous, jumping to his feet. "Mac——"</p> + +<p>MacDonald rose and stood at his side. There was something reassuring in the +rumbling laugh that came from deep in his chest.</p> + +<p>"She's beat us!" he chuckled. "Bless her, she's beat us! I didn't guess why +she was askin' me all them questions. An' I told her, Johnny—told her just +where the cavern was up there in the gorge, an' how you wouldn't hardly +miss it if you tried. An' she asked me how long it would take to <i>walk</i> +there, an' I told her half an hour. An' she's going to the cavern, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>He was telescoping his long glass as he spoke, and while Aldous was still +staring toward the gorge in wonderment and a little fear, he added:</p> + +<p>"We'd better follow. Quade an' Rann can't get here inside o' two or three +hours, an' we'll be back before then." Again he rumbled with that curious +chuckling laugh. "She beat us, Johnny, she beat us fair! An' she's got +spirrit, a wunnerful spirrit, to go up there alone!"</p> + +<p>Aldous wanted to run, but he held himself down to MacDonald's stride. His +heart trembled apprehensively as they hurriedly descended the mountain and +cut across the plain. He could not quite bring himself to MacDonald's point +of assurance regarding Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. The old mountaineer was +positive that the other party was behind them. Aldous asked himself if it +were not possible that Quade and FitzHugh were <i>ahead</i> of them, and already +waiting and watching for their opportunity. He had suggested that they +might have swung farther to the west, with the plan of descending upon the +valley from the north, and MacDonald had pointed out how unlikely this was. +In spite of this, Aldous was not in a comfortable frame of mind as they +hurried after Joanne. She had half an hour's start of them when they +reached the mouth of the gorge, and not until they had travelled another +half-hour up the rough bed of the break between the two mountains, and +MacDonald pointed ahead, and said: "There's the cavern!" did he breathe +easier.</p> + +<p>They could see the mouth of the cavern when they were yet a couple of +hundred yards from it. It was a wide, low cleft in the north face of the +chasm wall, and in front of it, spreading out like the flow of a stream, +was a great spatter of white sand, like a huge rug that had been spread out +in a space cleared of its chaotic litter of rock and broken slate. At first +glance Aldous guessed that the cavern had once been the exit of a +subterranean stream. The sand deadened the sound of their footsteps as they +approached. At the mouth of the cave they paused. It was perhaps forty or +fifty feet deep, and as high as a nine-foot room. Inside it was quite +light. Halfway to the back of it, upon her knees, and with her face turned +from them, was Joanne.</p> + +<p>They were very close to her before she heard them. With a startled cry she +sprang to her feet, and Aldous and MacDonald saw what she had been doing. +Over a long mound in the white sand still rose the sapling stake which +Donald had planted there forty years before; and about this, and scattered +over the grave, were dozens of wild asters and purple hyacinths which +Joanne had brought from the plain. Aldous did not speak, but he took her +hand, and looked down with her on the grave. And then something caught his +eyes among the flowers, and Joanne drew him a step nearer, her eyes shining +like velvet stars, while his heart beat faster when he saw what the object +was. It was a book, open in the middle, and it lay face downward on the +grave. It was old, and looked as though it might have fallen into dust at +the touch of his finger. Joanne's voice was low and filled with a +whispering awe.</p> + +<p>"It was her Bible, John!"</p> + +<p>He turned a little, and noticed that Donald had gone to the mouth of the +cavern, and was looking toward the mountain.</p> + +<p>"It was her Bible," he heard Joanne repeating; and then MacDonald turned +toward them, and he saw in his face a look that seemed strange and out of +place in this home of his dead. He went to him, and Joanne followed.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had turned again—was listening—and holding his breath. Then he +said, still with his face toward the mountain and the valley:</p> + +<p>"I may be mistaken, Johnny, but I think I heard—a rifle-shot!"</p> + +<p>For a full minute they listened.</p> + +<p>"It seemed off there," said MacDonald, pointing to the south. "I guess +we'd better get back to camp, Johnny."</p> + +<p>He started ahead of them, and Aldous followed as swiftly as he could with +Joanne. She was panting with excitement, but she asked no questions. +MacDonald began to spring more quickly from rock to rock; over the level +spaces he began to run. He reached the edge of the plain four or five +hundred yards in advance of them, and was scanning the valley through his +telescope when they came up.</p> + +<p>"They're not on this side," he said. "They're comin' up the other leg of +the valley, Johnny. We've got to get to the mount'in before we can see +them."</p> + +<p>He closed the glass with a snap and swung it over his shoulder. Then he +pointed toward the camp.</p> + +<p>"Take Joanne down there," he commanded. "Watch the break we came through, +an' wait for me. I'm goin' up on the mount'in an' take a look!"</p> + +<p>The last words came back over his shoulder as he started on a trot down the +slope. Only once before had Aldous seen MacDonald employ greater haste, and +that was on the night of the attack on Joanne. He was convinced there was +no doubt in Donald's mind about the rifle-shot, and that the shot could +mean but one thing—the nearness of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. Why they +should reveal their presence in that way he did not ask himself as he +hurried down into the plain with Joanne. By the time they reached the camp +old Donald had covered two thirds of the distance to the mountain. Aldous +looked at his watch and a curious thrill shot through him. Only a little +more than an hour had passed since they had left the mountain to follow +Joanne, and in that time it would have been impossible for their enemies to +have covered more than a third of the eight-mile stretch of valley which +they had found empty of human life under the searching scrutiny of the +telescope! He was right—and MacDonald was wrong! The sound of the shot, if +there had been a shot, must have come from some other direction!</p> + +<p>He wanted to shout his warning to MacDonald, but already too great a +distance separated them. Besides, if he was right, MacDonald would run into +no danger in that direction. Their menace was to the north—beyond the +chasm out of which came the rumble and roar of the stream. When Donald had +disappeared up the slope he looked more closely at the rugged walls of rock +that shut them in on that side. He could see no break in them. His eyes +followed the dark streak in the floor of the plain, which was the chasm. It +was two hundred yards below where they were standing; and a hundred yards +beyond the tepee he saw where it came out of a great rent in the mountain. +He looked at Joanne. She had been watching him, and was breathing quickly.</p> + +<p>"While Donald is taking his look from the mountain, I'm going to +investigate the chasm," he said.</p> + +<p>She followed him, a few steps behind. The roar grew in their ears as they +advanced. After a little solid rock replaced the earth under their feet, +and twenty paces from the precipice Aldous took Joanne by the hand. They +went to the edge and looked over. Fifty feet below them the stream was +caught in the narrow space between the two chasm walls, and above the rush +and roar of it Aldous heard the startled cry that came from Joanne. She +clutched his hand fiercely. Fascinated she gazed down. The water, speeding +like a millrace, was a lather of foam; and up through this foam there shot +the crests of great rocks, as though huge monsters of some kind were at +play, whipping the torrent into greater fury, and bellowing forth +thunderous voices. Downstream Aldous could see that the tumult grew less; +from the rent in the mountain came the deeper, more distant-rolling thunder +that they had heard on the other side of the range. And then, as he looked, +a sharper cry broke from Joanne, and she dragged him back from the ledge, +and pointed toward the tepee.</p> + +<p>Out from among the rocks had appeared a human figure. It was a woman. Her +hair was streaming wildly about her, and in the sun it was black as a +crow's wing. She rushed to the tepee, opened the flap, and looked in. Then +she turned, and a cry that was almost a scream rang from her lips. In +another moment she had seen Aldous and Joanne, and was running toward them. +They advanced to meet her. Suddenly Aldous stopped, and with a sharp +warning to Joanne he threw his rifle half to his shoulder, and faced the +rocks from which the speeding figure had come. In that same instant they +both recognized her. It was Marie, the woman who had ridden the bear at +Tête Jaune, and with whom Mortimer FitzHugh had bought Joe DeBar!</p> + +<p>She staggered up to them, panting, exhausted, her breath coming in gulping +sobs. For a moment she could not speak. Her dress was torn; her waist was +ripped so that it exposed her throat and shoulder; and the front of the +waist and her face were stained with blood. Her black eyes shone like a +madwoman's. Fiercely she fought to get her breath, and all the time she +clung to Joanne, and looked at Aldous. She pointed toward the rocks—the +chaotic upheaval that lay between the tepee and the chasm—and words broke +gaspingly from her lips.</p> + +<p>"They're coming!--coming!" she cried. "They killed Joe—murdered him—and +they're coming—to kill you!" She clutched a hand to her breast, and then +pointed with it to the mountain where MacDonald had gone. "They saw him +go—and they sent two men to kill him; and the rest are coming through the +rocks!" She turned sobbingly to Joanne. "They killed Joe," she moaned. +"They killed Joe, and they're coming—for <i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>The emphasis on that final word struck like a blow in the ears of John +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Run for the spruce!" he commanded. "Joanne, run!"</p> + +<p>Marie had crumpled down in a moaning heap at Joanne's feet, and sat swaying +with her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"They killed him—they murdered my Joe!" she was sobbing. "And it was my +fault—my fault! I trapped him! I sold him! And, oh, my God, I loved him—I +loved him!"</p> + +<p>"Run, Joanne!" commanded Aldous a second time. "Run for the spruce!"</p> + +<p>Instead of obeying him, Joanne knelt down beside Marie.</p> + +<p>He went to speak again, but there came an interruption—a thing that was +like the cold touch of lead in his own heart. From up on the mountain where +the old mountaineer had walked into the face of death there came the +sharp, splitting report of a rifle; and in that same instant it was +followed by another and still a third—quick, stinging, whiplike +reports—and he knew that not one of them had come from the gun of Donald +MacDonald!</p> + +<p>And then he saw that the rocks behind the tepee had become suddenly alive +with men!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<br> + +<p>Sheer amazement made Aldous hold his fire in that first moment. Marie had +said that two men were after MacDonald. He had heard three shots nearly a +mile away, and she was still sobbing that DeBar was dead. That accounted +for <i>three</i>. He had expected to see only Quade, and FitzHugh, and one other +behind the tepee. And there were six! He counted them as they came swiftly +out from the shelter of the rocks to the level of the plain. He was about +to fire when he thought of Joanne and Marie. They were still behind him, +crouching upon the ground. To fire from where he stood would draw a +fusillade of bullets in their direction, and with another warning cry to +Joanne, he sped twenty paces to one side so that they would not be within +range. Not until then did the attacking party see him.</p> + +<p>At a hundred and fifty yards he had no time to pick out Quade or Mortimer +FitzHugh. He fired first at a group of three, and one of the three crumpled +down as though his skull had been crushed from above. A rifle spat back at +him and the bullet sang like a ripping cloth close over his head. He +dropped to his knees before he fired again, and a bullet clove the air +where he had stood. The crack of rifles did not hurry him. He knew that he +had six cartridges, and only six, and he aimed deliberately. At his second +shot the man he had fired at ran forward three or four steps, and then +pitched flat on his face. For a flash Aldous thought that it was Mortimer +FitzHugh. Then, along his gun barrel, he saw FitzHugh—and pulled the +trigger. It was a miss.</p> + +<p>Two men had dropped upon their knees and were aiming more carefully. He +swung his sight to the foremost, and drove a bullet straight through his +chest. The next moment something seemed to have fallen upon him with +crushing weight. A red sea rose before his eyes. In it he was submerged; +the roar of it filled his ears; it blinded him; and in the suffocating +embrace of it he tried to cry out. He fought himself out of it, his eyes +cleared, and he could see again. His rifle was no longer in his hands, and +he was standing. Twenty feet away men were rushing upon him. His brain +recovered itself with the swiftness of lightning. A bullet had stunned him, +but he was not badly hurt. He jerked out his automatic, but before he could +raise it, or even fire from his hip, the first of his assailants was upon +him with a force that drove it from his hand. They went down together, and +as they struggled on the bare rock Aldous caught for a fraction of a second +a scene that burned itself like fire in his brain. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh +with a revolver in his hand. He had stopped; he was staring like one +looking upon the ghost of the dead, and as he stared there rose above the +rumbling roar of the chasm a wild and terrible shriek from Joanne.</p> + +<p>Aldous saw no more then. He was not fighting for his life, but for her, and +he fought with the mad ferocity of a tiger. As he struck, and choked, and +beat the head of his assailant on the rock, he heard shriek after shriek +come from Joanne's lips; and then for a flash he saw them again, and +Joanne was struggling in the arms of Quade!</p> + +<p>He struggled to his knees, and the man he was fighting struggled to his +knees; and then they came to their feet, locked in a death-grip on the edge +of the chasm. From Quade's clutch he saw Joanne staring at Mortimer +FitzHugh; then her eyes shot to him, and with another shriek she fought to +free herself.</p> + +<p>For thirty seconds of that terrible drama Mortimer FitzHugh stood as if +hewn out of rock. Then he sprang toward the fighters.</p> + +<p>In the arms of John Aldous was the strength of ten men. He twisted the head +of his antagonist under his arm; he braced his feet—in another moment he +would have flung him bodily into the roaring maelstrom below. Even as his +muscles gathered themselves for the final effort he knew that all was lost. +Mortimer FitzHugh's face leered over his shoulder, his demoniac intention +was in his eyes before he acted. With a cry of hatred and of triumph he +shoved them both over the edge, and as Aldous plunged to the depths below, +still holding to his enemy, he heard a last piercing scream from Joanne.</p> + +<p>As the rock slid away from under his feet his first thought was that the +end had come, and that no living creature could live in the roaring +maelstrom of rock and, flood into which he was plunging. But quicker than +he dashed through space his mind worked. Instinctively, without time for +reasoning, he gripped at the fact that his one chance lay in the close +embrace of his enemy. He hung to him. It seemed to him that they turned +over and over a hundred times in that distance of fifty feet. Then a mass +of twisting foam broke under him, and up out of it shot the head of one of +the roaring monsters of rock that he and Joanne had looked upon. They +struck it fairly, and Aldous was uppermost. He felt the terrific impact of +the other's body. The foam boiled upward again, and they slipped off into +the flood.</p> + +<p>Still Aldous held to his enemy. He could feel that he was limp now; he no +longer felt the touch of the hands that had choked him, or the embrace of +the arms that had struggled with him. He believed that his antagonist was +dead. The fifty-foot fall, with the rock splitting his back, had killed +him. For a moment Aldous still clung to him as they sank together under the +surface, torn and twisted by the whirling eddies and whirlpools. It seemed +to him that they would never cease going down, that they were sinking a +vast distance.</p> + +<p>Dully he felt the beat of rocks. Then it flashed upon him that the dead man +was sinking like a weighted thing. He freed himself. Fiercely he struggled +to bring himself to the surface. It seemed an eternity before he rose to +the top. He opened his mouth and drew a great gulp of air into his lungs. +The next instant a great rock reared like a living thing in his face; he +plunged against it, was beaten over it, and again he was going +down—down—in that deadly clutch of maelstrom and undertow. Again he +fought, and again he came to the surface. He saw a black, slippery wall +gliding past him with the speed of an express train. And now it seemed as +though a thousand clubs were beating him. Ahead of him were rocks—nothing +but rocks.</p> + +<p>He shot through them like a piece of driftwood. The roaring in his ears +grew less, and he felt the touch of something under his feet. Sunlight +burst upon him. He caught at a rock, and hung to it. His eyes cleared a +little. He was within ten feet of a shore covered with sand and gravel. The +water was smooth and running with a musical ripple. Waist-deep he waded +through it to the shore, and fell down upon his knees, with his face buried +in his arms. He had been ten minutes in the death-grip of the chasm. It was +another ten minutes before he staggered to his feet and looked about him.</p> + +<p>His face was beaten until he was almost blind. His shirt had been torn from +his shoulders and his flesh was bleeding. He advanced a few steps. He +raised one arm and then the other. He limped. One arm hurt him when he +moved it, but the bone was sound. He was terribly mauled, but he knew that +no bones were broken, and a gasp of thankfulness fell from his lips. All +this time his mind had been suffering even more than his body. Not for an +instant, even as he fought for life between the chasm walls, and as he lay +half unconscious on the rock, had he forgotten Joanne. His one thought was +of her now. He had no weapon, but as he stumbled in the direction of the +camp in the little plain he picked up a club that lay in his path.</p> + +<p>That MacDonald was dead, Aldous was certain. There would be four against +him—Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh and the two men who had gone to the +mountain. His brain cleared swiftly as a part of his strength returned, and +it occurred to him that if he lost no time he might come upon Joanne and +her captors before the two men came from killing old Donald. He tried to +run. Not until then did he fully realize the condition he was in. Twice in +the first hundred yards his legs doubled under him and he fell down among +the rocks. He grew steadily stronger, though each time he tried to run or +spring a distance of a few feet his legs doubled under him like that. It +took him twenty minutes to get back to the edge of the plain, and when he +got there it was empty. There was no sign of Quade or FitzHugh, or of +Joanne and Marie; and there was no one coming from the direction of the +mountain.</p> + +<p>He tried to run again, and he found that over the level floor of the valley +he could make faster time than among the rocks. He went to where he had +dropped his rifle. It was gone. He searched for his automatic. That, too, +was gone. There was one weapon left—a long skinning-knife in one of the +panniers near the tepee. As he went for this, he passed two of the men whom +he had shot. Quade and FitzHugh had taken their weapons, and had turned +them over to see if they were alive or dead. They were dead. He secured the +knife, and behind the tepee he passed the third body, its face as still and +white as the others. He shuddered as he recognized it. It was Slim Barker. +His rifle was gone.</p> + +<p>More swiftly now he made his way into the break out of which his assailants +had come a short time before. The thought came to him again that he had +been right, and that Donald MacDonald, in spite of all his years in the +mountains, had been fatally wrong. Their enemies had come down from the +north, and this break led to their hiding-place. Through it Joanne must +have been taken by her captors. As he made his way over the rocks, gaining +a little more of his strength with each step, his mind tried to picture the +situation that had now arisen between Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. How +would Quade, who was mad for possession of Joanne, accept FitzHugh's claim +of ownership? Would he believe his partner? Would he even believe Joanne +if, to save herself from him, she told him FitzHugh was her husband? Even +if he believed them, <i>would he give her up?</i> Would Quade allow Mortimer +FitzHugh to stand between him and the object for which he was willing to +sacrifice everything?</p> + +<p>As Aldous asked himself these questions his blood ran hot and cold by +turns. And the answer to them drew a deep breath of fear and of anguish +from him as he tried again to run among the rocks. There could be but one +answer: Quade would fight. He would fight like a madman, and if this fight +had happened and FitzHugh had been killed Joanne had already gone utterly +and helplessly into his power. He believed that FitzHugh had not revealed +to Quade his relationship to Joanne while they were on the plain, and the +thought still more terrible came to him that he might not reveal it at all, +that he might repudiate Joanne even as she begged upon her knees for him to +save her. What a revenge it would be to see her helpless and broken in the +arms of Quade! And then, both being beasts——</p> + +<p>He could think no farther. The sweat broke out on his face as he hobbled +faster over a level space. The sound of the water between the chasm walls +was now a thunder in his ears. He could not have heard a rifle-shot or a +scream a hundred yards away. The trail he was following had continually +grown narrower. It seemed to end a little ahead of him, and the fear that +he had come the wrong way after all filled him with dread. He came to the +face of the mountain wall, and then, to his left, he saw a crack that was +no wider than a man's body. In it there was sand, and the, sand was beaten +by footprints! He wormed his way through, and a moment later stood at the +edge of the chasm. Fifty feet above him a natural bridge of rock spanned +the huge cleft through which the stream was rushing. He crossed this, +exposing himself openly to a shot if it was guarded. But it was not +guarded. This fact convinced him that MacDonald had been killed, and that +his enemies believed he was dead. If MacDonald had escaped, and they had +feared a possible pursuit, some one would have watched the bridge.</p> + +<p>The trail was easy to follow now. Sand and grassy earth had replaced rock +and shale; he could make out the imprints of feet—many of them—and they +led in the direction of a piece of timber that apparently edged a valley +running to the east and west. The rumble of the torrent in the chasm grew +fainter as he advanced. A couple of hundred yards farther on the trail +swung to the left again; it took him around the end of a huge rock, and as +he appeared from behind this, his knife clutched in his hand, he dropped +suddenly flat on his face, and his heart rose like a lump in his throat. +Scarcely fifty yards above him was the camp of his enemies! There were two +tepees and piles of saddles and panniers and blankets about them, but not a +soul that he could see. And then, suddenly, there rose a voice bellowing +with rage, and he recognized it as Quade's. It came from beyond the tepee, +and he rose quickly from where he had thrown himself and ran forward, with +the tepee between him and those on the other side. Close to the canvas he +dropped on his knees and crawled out behind a pile of saddles and panniers. +From here he could see.</p> + +<p>So near that he could almost have touched them were Joanne and Marie, +seated on the ground, with their backs toward him. Their hands were tied +behind them. Their feet were bound with pannier ropes. A dozen paces beyond +them were Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh.</p> + +<p>The two men were facing each other, a yard apart. Mortimer FitzHugh's face +was white, a deadly white, and he was smiling. His right hand rested +carelessly in his hunting-coat pocket. There was a sneering challenge on +his lips; in his eyes was a look that Aldous knew meant death if Quade +moved. And Quade was like a great red beast ready to spring. His eyes +seemed bulging out on his cheeks; his great hands were knotted; his +shoulders were hunched forward, and his mottled face was ablaze with +passion. In that moment's dramatic tableau Aldous glanced about swiftly. +The men from the mountain had not returned. He was alone with Quade and +Mortimer FitzHugh.</p> + +<p>Then FitzHugh spoke, very quietly, a little laughingly; but his voice +trembled, and Aldous knew what the hand was doing in the hunting-coat +pocket.</p> + +<p>"You're excited, Billy," he said. "I'm not a liar, as you've very +impolitely told me. And I'm not playing you dirt, and I haven't fallen in +love with the lady myself, as you seem to think. But she belongs to me, +body and soul. If you don't believe me—why, ask the lady herself, Billy!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he turned his sneering eyes for the fraction of a second +toward Joanne. The movement was fatal. Quade was upon him. The hand in the +coat pocket flung itself upward, there followed a muffled report, but the +bullet flew wide. In all his life Aldous had never heard a sound like the +roar that came from Quade's throat then. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh's hand +appear with a pistol in it, and then the pistol was gone. He did not see +where it went to. He gripped his knife and waited, his heart beating with +what seemed like smothered explosions as he watched for the opportunity +which he knew would soon come. He expected to see FitzHugh go down under +Quade's huge bulk. Instead of that, a small, iron fist shot upward and +Quade's head went back as if broken from his neck.</p> + +<p>FitzHugh sprang a step backward, and in the movement his heel caught the +edge of a pack-saddle. He stumbled, almost fell, and before he could +recover himself Quade was at him again. This time there was something in +the red brute's hand. It rose and fell once—and Mortimer FitzHugh reeled +backward with a moaning cry, swayed for a second or two on his feet, and +fell to the ground. Quade turned. In his hand was a bloody knife. Madness +and passion and the triumphant joy of a demon were in his face as he glared +at his helpless prey. As Aldous crouched lower his shoulder touched one of +the saddles. It slipped from the pile, one of the panniers followed it, and +Quade saw him. There was no longer reason for concealment, and as Quade +stood paralyzed for a moment Aldous sprang forth into the space between him +and Joanne. He heard the cry that broke strangely from her lips but he did +not turn his head. He advanced upon Quade, his head lowered, the long +skinning-knife gleaming in his hand.</p> + +<p>John Aldous knew that words would avail nothing in these last few minutes +between him and Quade. The latter had already hunched himself forward, the +red knife in his hand poised at his waistline. He was terrible. His huge +bulk, his red face and bull neck, his eyes popping from behind their fleshy +lids, and the dripping blade in the shapeless hulk of his hand gave him the +appearance as he stood there of some monstrous gargoyle instead of a thing +of flesh and blood. And Aldous was terrible to look at, but in a way that +wrung a moaning cry from Joanne. His face was livid from the beat of the +rocks; it was crusted with blood; his eyes were partly closed, and what +remained of his shirt was drenched with blood that still ran from the deep +cuts in his arms and shoulders. But it was he who advanced, and Quade who +stood and waited.</p> + +<p>Aldous knew little or nothing of knife-fighting; and he realized, also, +that there was a strange weakness in his arms and body caused by his battle +with the maelstroms in the chasm. But he had wrestled a great deal with the +Indians of the north, who fought as their half-wolf sledgedogs fought, and +he employed their methods now. Slowly and deliberately he began to circle +around Quade, so that Quade became the pivot of that circle, and as he +circled he drew nearer and nearer to his enemy, but never in a frontal +advance. He edged inward, with his knife-arm on the outside. His deadly +deliberateness and the steady glare of his eyes discomfited Quade, who +suddenly took a step backward.</p> + +<p>It was always when the Indian made this step that his opponent darted in; +and Aldous, with this in mind, sprang to the attack. Their knives clashed +in midair. As they met, hilt to hilt, Aldous threw his whole weight against +Quade, darted sidewise, and with a terrific lunge brought the blade of his +knife down between Quade's shoulders. A straight blade would have gone from +back to chest through muscle and sinew, but the knife which Aldous held +scarcely pierced the other's clothes.</p> + +<p>Not until then did he fully realize the tremendous odds against him. The +curved blade of his skinning-knife would not penetrate! His one hope was to +cut with it. He flung out his arm before Quade had fully recovered, and +blind luck carried the keen edge of the knife across his enemy's pouchy +cheek. The blood came in a spurt, and with a terrible cry Quade leaped back +toward the pile of saddles and panniers. Before Aldous could follow his +advantage the other had dropped his knife and had snatched up a four-foot +length of a tepee pole. For a moment he hesitated while the blood ran in a +hot flood down his thick neck. Then with a bellow of rage he rushed upon +Aldous.</p> + +<p>It was no time for knife-work now. As the avalanche of brute strength +descended upon him Aldous gathered himself for the shock. He had already +measured his own weakness. Those ten minutes among the rocks of the chasm +had broken and beaten him until his strength was gone. He was panting from +his first onset with Quade, but his brain was working. And he knew that +Quade was no longer a reasoning thing. He had ceased to think. He was blind +with the passion of the brute, and his one thought was to crush his enemy +down under the weight of the club in his huge hands. Aldous waited. He +heard Joanne's terrified scream when Quade was almost upon him—when less +than five feet separated them. The club was descending when he flung +himself forward, straight for the other's feet. The club crashed over him, +and with what strength he had he gripped Quade at the knees. With a +tremendous thud Quade came to earth. The club broke from the grip of his +hands. For a moment he was stunned, and in that moment Aldous was at his +throat.</p> + +<p>He would have sold the best of his life for the skinning-knife. But he had +lost it in gripping Quade. And now he choked—with every ounce of strength +in him he choked at the thick red neck of his enemy. Quade's hands reached +for his own throat. They found it. And both choked, lying there gasping and +covered with blood! while Joanne struggled vainly to free herself, and +scream after scream rang from her lips. And John Aldous knew that at last +the end had come. For there was no longer strength in his arms, and there +was something that was like a strange cramp in his fingers, while the +clutch at his own throat was turning the world black. His grip relaxed. His +hands fell limp. The last that he realized was that Quade was over him, and +that he must be dying.</p> + +<p>Then it was, as he lay within a final second or two of death, no longer +conscious of physical attack or of Joanne's terrible cries, that a strange +and unforeseen thing occurred. Beyond the tepee a man had risen from the +earth. He staggered toward them, and it was from Marie that the wildest and +strangest cry of all came now. For the man was Joe DeBar! In his hand he +held a knife. Swaying and stumbling he came to the fighters—from behind. +Quade did not see him, and over Quade's huge back he poised himself. The +knife rose; for the fraction of a second it trembled in midair. Then it +descended, and eight inches of steel went to the heart of Quade.</p> + +<p>And as DeBar turned and staggered toward Joanne and Marie, John Aldous was +sinking deeper and deeper into a black and abysmal night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<br> + +<p>In that chaotic night in which he was drifting, light as a feather floating +on the wind, John Aldous experienced neither pain nor very much of the +sense of life. And yet, without seeing or feeling, he seemed to be living, +All was dead in him but that last consciousness, which is almost the +spirit; he might have been dreaming, and minutes, hours, or even years +might have passed in that dream. For a long time he seemed to be sinking +through the blackness; and then something stopped him, without jar or +shock, and he was rising. He could hear nothing. There was a vast silence +about him, a silence as deep and as unbroken as the abysmal pit in which he +seemed to be softly floating.</p> + +<p>After a time Aldous felt himself swaying and rocking, as though tossed +gently on the billows of a sea. This was the first thought that took shape +in his struggling brain—he was at sea; he was on a ship in the heart of a +black night, and he was alone. He tried to call out, but his tongue seemed +gone. It seemed a very long time before day broke, and then it was a +strange day. Little needles of light pricked his eyes; silver strings shot +like flashes of weblike lightning through the darkness, and after that he +saw for an instant a strange glare. It was gone in one big, powderlike +flash, and he was in night again. These days and nights seemed to follow +one another swiftly now, and the nights grew less dark, and the days +brighter. He was conscious of sounds and buffetings, and it was very hot.</p> + +<p>Out of this heat there came a cool, soft breeze that was continually +caressing his face, and eyes, and head. It was like the touch of a spirit +hand. It became more and more real to him. It caressed him into a dark and +comfortable oblivion. Out of this oblivion a still brighter day roused him. +His brain seemed clear. He opened his eyes. A white cloud was hovering over +them; it fell softly; it was cool and gentle. Then it rose again, and it +was not a cloud, but a hand! The hand moved away, and he was looking into a +pair of wide-open, staring, prayerful eyes, and a little cry came to him, +and a voice.</p> + +<p>"John—John——"</p> + +<p>He was drifting again, but now he knew that he was alive. He heard +movement. He heard voices. They were growing nearer and more distinct. He +tried to cry out Joanne's name, and it came in a whispering breath between +his lips. But Joanne heard; and he heard her calling to him; he felt her +hands; she was imploring him to open his eyes, to speak to her. It seemed +many minutes before he could do this, but at last he succeeded. And this +time his vision was not so blurred. He could see plainly. Joanne was there, +hovering over him, and just beyond her was the great bearded face of Donald +MacDonald. And then, before words had formed on his lips, he did a +wonderful thing. He smiled.</p> + +<p>"O my God, I thank Thee!" he heard Joanne cry out, and then she was on her +knees, and her face was against his, and she was sobbing.</p> + +<p>He knew that it was MacDonald who drew her away.</p> + +<p>The great head bent over him.</p> + +<p>"Take this, will 'ee, Johnny boy?"</p> + +<p>Aldous stared.</p> + +<p>"Mac, you're—alive," he breathed.</p> + +<p>"Alive as ever was, Johnny. Take this."</p> + +<p>He swallowed. And then Joanne hovered over him again, and he put up his +hands to her face, and her glorious eyes were swimming seas as she kissed +him and choked back the sobs in her throat. He buried his fingers in her +hair. He held her head close to him, and for many minutes no one spoke, +while MacDonald stood and looked down on them. In those minutes everything +returned to him. The fight was over. MacDonald had come in time to save him +from Quade. But—and now his eyes stared upward through the sheen of +Joanne's hair—he was in a cabin! He recognized it. It was Donald +MacDonald's old home. When Joanne raised her head he looked about him +without speaking. He was in the wide bunk built against the wall. Sunlight +was filtering through a white curtain at the window, and in the open door +he saw the anxious face of Marie.</p> + +<p>He tried to lift himself, and was amazed to find that he could not. Very +gently Joanne urged him back on his pillow. Her face was a glory of life +and of joy. He obeyed her as he would have obeyed the hand of the Madonna. +She saw all his questioning.</p> + +<p>"You must be quiet, John," she said, and never had he heard in her voice +the sweetness of love that was in it now. "We will tell you +everything—Donald and I. But you must be quiet. You were terribly beaten +among the rocks. We brought you here at noon, and the sun is setting—and +until now you have not opened your eyes. Everything is well. But you must +be quiet. You were terribly bruised by the rocks, dear."</p> + +<p>It was sweet to lie under the caresses of her hand. He drew her face down +to him.</p> + +<p>"Joanne, my darling, you understand now—why I wanted to come alone into +the North?"</p> + +<p>Her lips pressed warm and soft against his.</p> + +<p>"I know," she whispered, and he could feel her arras trembling, and her +breath coming quickly. Gently she drew away from him. "I am going to make +you some broth," she said then.</p> + +<p>He watched her as she went out of the cabin, one white hand lifted to her +throat.</p> + +<p>Old Donald MacDonald seated himself on the edge of the bunk. He looked down +at Aldous, chuckling in his beard; and Aldous, with his bruised and swollen +face and half-open eyes, grinned like a happy fiend.</p> + +<p>"It was a wunerful, wunerful fight, Johnny!" said old Donald.</p> + +<p>"It was, Mac. And you came in fine on the home stretch!"</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean—home stretch?" queried Donald leaning over.</p> + +<p>"You saved me from Quade."</p> + +<p>Donald fairly groaned.</p> + +<p>"I didn't, Johnny—I didn't! DeBar killed 'im. It was all over when I come. +On'y—Johnny—I had a most cur'ous word with Culver Rann afore he died!"</p> + +<p>In his eagerness Aldous was again trying to sit up when Joanne appeared in +the doorway. With a little cry she darted to him, forced him gently back, +and brushed old Donald off the edge of the bunk.</p> + +<p>"Go out and watch the broth, Donald," she commanded firmly. Then she said +to Aldous, stroking back his hair, "I forbade you to talk. John, dear, +aren't you going to mind me?"</p> + +<p>"Did Quade get me with the knife?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"Am I shot?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear."</p> + +<p>"Any bones broken?"</p> + +<p>"Donald says not."</p> + +<p>"Then please give me my pipe, Joanne—and let me get up. Why do you want me +to lie here when I'm strong like an ox, as Donald says?"</p> + +<p>Joanne laughed happily.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> getting better every minute," she cried joyously. "But you were +terribly beaten by the rocks, John. If you will wait until you have the +broth I will let you sit up."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when he had swallowed his broth, Joanne kept her +promise. Only then did he realize that there was not a bone or a muscle in +his body that did not have its own particular ache. He grimaced when Joanne +and Donald bolstered him up with blankets at his back. But he was happy. +Twilight was coming swiftly, and as Joanne gave the final pats and turns to +the blankets and pillows, MacDonald was lighting half a dozen candles +placed around the room.</p> + +<p>"Any watch to-night, Donald?" asked Aldous.</p> + +<p>"No, Johnny, there ain't no watch to-night," replied the old mountaineer.</p> + +<p>He came and seated himself on a bench with Joanne. For half an hour after +that Aldous listened to a recital of the strange things that had +happened—how poor marksmanship had saved MacDonald on the mountain-side, +and how at last the duel had ended with the old hunter killing those who +had come to slay him. When they came to speak of DeBar, Joanne leaned +nearer to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"It is wonderful what love will sometimes do," she spoke softly. "In the +last few hours Marie has bared her soul to me, John. What she has been she +has not tried to hide from me, nor even from the man she loves. She was one +of Mortimer FitzHugh's tools. DeBar saw her and loved her, and she sold +herself to him in exchange for the secret of the gold. When they came into +the North the wonderful thing happened. She loved DeBar—not in the way of +her kind, but as a woman in whom had been born a new heart and a new soul +and a new joy. She defied FitzHugh; she told DeBar how she had tricked him.</p> + +<p>"This morning FitzHugh attempted his old familiarity with her, and DeBar +struck him down. The act gave them excuse for what they had planned to do. +Before her eyes Marie thought they had killed the man she loved. She flung +herself on his breast, and she said she could not feel his heart beat, and +his blood flowed warm against her hands and face. Both she and DeBar had +determined to warn us if they could. Only a few minutes before DeBar was +stabbed he had let off his rifle—an accident, he said. But it was not an +accident. It was the shot Donald heard in the cavern. It saved us, John! +And Marie, waiting her opportunity, fled to us in the plain. DeBar was not +killed. He says my screams brought him back to life. He came out—and +killed Quade with a knife. Then he fell at our feet. A few minutes later +Donald came. DeBar is in another cabin. He is not fatally hurt, and Marie +is happy."</p> + +<p>She was stroking his hand when she finished. The curious rumbling came +softly in MacDonald's beard and his eyes were bright with a whimsical +humour.</p> + +<p>"I pretty near bored a hole through poor Joe when I come up," he chuckled. +"But you bet I hugged him when I found what he'd done, Johnny! Joe says +their camp was just over the range from us that night FitzHugh looked us +up, an' Joanne thought she'd been dreamin'. He didn't have any help, but +his intention was to finish us alone—murder us asleep—when Joanne cried +out. Joe says it was just a devil's freak that took 'im to the top of the +mountain alone that night. He saw our fire an' came down to investigate."</p> + +<p>A low voice was calling outside the door. It was Marie. As Joanne went to +her a quick gleam came into old Donald's eyes. He looked behind him +cautiously to see that she had disappeared, then he bent over Aldous, and +whispered hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"Johnny, I had a most cur'ous word with Rann—or FitzHugh—afore he died! +He wasn't dead when I went to him. But he knew he was dyin'; an' Johnny, he +was smilin' an' cool to the end. I wanted to ask 'im a question, Johnny. I +was dead cur'ous to know <i>why the grave were empty!</i> But he asked for +Joanne, an' I couldn't break in on his last breath. I brought her. The +first thing he asked her was how people had took it when they found out +he'd poisoned his father! When Joanne told him no one had ever thought he'd +killed his father, FitzHugh sat leanin' against the saddles for a minit so +white an' still I thought he 'ad died with his eyes open. Then it came out, +Johnny. He was smilin' as he told it. He killed his father with poison to +get his money. Later he came to America. He didn't have time to tell us how +he come to think they'd discovered his crime. He was dyin' as he talked. It +came out sort o' slobberingly, Johnny. He thought they'd found 'im out. He +changed his name, an' sent out the report that Mortimer FitzHugh had died +in the mount'ins. But Johnny, he died afore I could ask him about the +grave!"</p> + +<p>There was a final note of disappointment in old Donald's voice that was +almost pathetic.</p> + +<p>"It was such a cur'ous grave," he said. "An' the clothes were laid out so +prim an' nice."</p> + +<p>Aldous laid his hand on MacDonald's.</p> + +<p>"It's easy, Mac," he said, and he wanted to laugh at the disappointment +that was still in the other's face. "Don't you see? He never expected any +one to dig <i>into</i> the grave. And he put the clothes and the watch and the +ring in there to get rid of them. They might have revealed his identity. +Why, Donald——"</p> + +<p>Joanne was coming to them again. She laid a cool hand on his forehead and +held up a warning finger to MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she said gently, "Your head is very hot, dear, and there must be +no more talking. You must lie down and sleep. Tell John good-night, +Donald!"</p> + +<p>Like a boy MacDonald did as she told him, and disappeared through the cabin +door. Joanne levelled the pillows and lowered John's head.</p> + +<p>"I can't sleep, Joanne," he protested.</p> + +<p>"I will sit here close at your side and stroke your face and hair," she +said gently.</p> + +<p>"And you will talk to me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I must not talk. But, John——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"If you will promise to be very, very quiet, and let me be very quiet——"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I will make you a pillow of my hair."</p> + +<p>"I—will be quiet," he whispered.</p> + +<p>She unbound her hair, and leaned over so that it fell in a flood on his +pillow. With a sigh of contentment he buried his face in the rich, sweet +masses of it. Gently, like the cooling breeze that had come to him in his +hours of darkness, her hand caressed him. He closed his eyes; he drank in +the intoxicating perfume of her tresses; and after a little he slept.</p> + +<p>For many hours Joanne sat at his bedside, sleepless, and rejoicing.</p> + +<p>When Aldous awoke it was dawn in the cabin. Joanne was gone. For a few +minutes he continued to lie with his face toward the window. He knew that +he had slept a long time, and that the day was breaking. Slowly he raised +himself. The terrible ache in his body was gone; he was still lame, but no +longer helpless. He drew himself cautiously to the edge of the bunk and +sat there for a time, testing himself before he got up. He was delighted at +the result of the experiments. He rose to his feet. His clothes were +hanging against the wall, and he dressed himself. Then he opened the door +and walked out into the morning, limping a little as he went. MacDonald was +up. Joanne's tepee was close to the cabin. The two men greeted each other +quietly, and they talked in low voices, but Joanne heard them, and a few +moments later she ran out with her hair streaming about her and went +straight into the arms of John Aldous.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of the three wonderful days that yet remained for +Joanne and John Aldous in Donald MacDonald's little valley of gold and +sunshine and blue skies. They were strange and beautiful days, filled with +a great peace and a great happiness, and in them wonderful changes were at +work. On the second day Joanne and Marie rode alone to the cavern where +Jane lay, and when they returned in the golden sun of the afternoon they +were leading their horses, and walking hand in hand. And when they came +down to where DeBar and Aldous and Donald MacDonald were testing the +richness of the black sand along the stream there was a light in Marie's +eyes and a radiance in Joanne's face which told again that world-old story +of a Mary Magdalene and the dawn of another Day. And now, Aldous thought, +Marie had become beautiful; and Joanne laughed softly and happily that +night, and confided many things into the ears of Aldous, while Marie and +DeBar talked for a long time alone out under the stars, and came back at +last hand in hand, like two children. Before they went to bed Marie +whispered something to Joanne, and a little later Joanne whispered it to +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"They want to know if they can be married with us, John," she said. "That +is, if you haven't grown tired of trying to marry me, dear," she added with +a happy laugh. "Have you?"</p> + +<p>His answer satisfied her. And when she told a small part of it to Marie, +the other woman's dark eyes grew as soft as the night, and she whispered +the words to Joe.</p> + +<p>The third and last day was the most beautiful of all. Joe's knife wound was +not bad. He had suffered most from a blow on the head. Both he and Aldous +were in condition to travel, and plans were made to begin the homeward +journey on the fourth morning. MacDonald had unearthed another dozen sacks +of the hidden gold, and he explained to Aldous what must be done to secure +legal possession of the little valley. His manner of doing this was +unnatural and strained. His words came haltingly. There was unhappiness in +his eyes. It was in his voice. It was in the odd droop of his shoulders. +And finally, when they were alone, he said to Aldous, with almost a sob in +his voice:</p> + +<p>"Johnny—Johnny, if on'y the gold were not here!"</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes to the mountain, and Aldous took one of his big gnarled +hands in both his own.</p> + +<p>"Say it, Mac," he said gently. "I guess I know what it is."</p> + +<p>"It ain't fair to you, Johnny," said old Donald, still with his eyes on the +mountains. "It ain't fair to you. But when you take out the claims down +there it'll start a rush. You know what it means, Johnny. There'll be a +thousand men up here; an' mebby you can't understand—but there's the +cavern an' Jane an' the little cabin here; an' it seems like desecratin' +<i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>His voice choked, and as Aldous gripped the big hand harder in his own he +laughed.</p> + +<p>"It would, Mac," he said. "I've been watching you while we made the plans. +These cabins and the gold have been here for more than forty years without +discovery, Donald—and they won't be discovered again so long as Joe DeBar +and John Aldous and Donald MacDonald have a word to say about it. We'll +take out no claims, Mac. The valley isn't ours. It's Jane's valley and +yours!"</p> + +<p>Joanne, coming up just then, wondered what the two men had been saying that +they stood as they did, with hands clasped. Aldous told her. And then old +Donald confessed to them what was in his mind, and what he had kept from +them. At last he had found his home, and he was not going to leave it +again. He was going to stay with Jane. He was going to bring her from the +cavern and bury her near the cabin, and he pointed out the spot, covered +with wild hyacinths and asters, where she used to sit on the edge of the +stream and watch him while he worked for gold. And they could return each +year and dig for gold, and he would dig for gold while they were away, and +they could have it all. All that he wanted was enough to eat, and Jane, and +the little valley. And Joanne turned from him as he talked, her face +streaming with tears, and in John's throat was a great lump, and he looked +away from MacDonald to the mountains.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that on the fourth morning, when they went into the +south, they stopped on the last knoll that shut out the little valley from +the larger valley, and looked back. And Donald MacDonald stood alone in +front of the cabin waving them good-bye.</p> + +<h5>THE END</h5> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11328 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11328-h/images/001.jpg b/11328-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..421d36b --- /dev/null +++ b/11328-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/11328-h/images/002.jpg b/11328-h/images/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..078234c --- /dev/null +++ b/11328-h/images/002.jpg diff --git a/11328-h/images/003.jpg b/11328-h/images/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a837c69 --- /dev/null +++ b/11328-h/images/003.jpg diff --git a/11328-h/images/004.jpg b/11328-h/images/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb83a52 --- /dev/null +++ b/11328-h/images/004.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4679d58 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11328 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11328) diff --git a/old/11328-8.txt b/old/11328-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..82e19fe --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11328-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9908 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hunted Woman, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hunted Woman + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: February 27, 2004 [EBook #11328] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +BY + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of KAZAN, Etc. + +Illustrated by + +FRANK B. HOFFMAN + + +1915 + +TO MY WIFE + +AND + +OUR COMRADES OF THE TRAIL + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +"'Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald.'" + +A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "'Another o' them Dotty Dimples +come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a little, an' +so I sent her to Bill's place'" + +"A crowd was gathering.... A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering +silk was standing beside a huge brown bear" + +"'The tunnel is closed,' she whispered.... 'That means we have just +forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another.'" + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was all new--most of it singularly dramatic and even appalling to the +woman who sat with the pearl-gray veil drawn closely about her face. For +eighteen hours she had been a keenly attentive, wide-eyed, and partly +frightened bit of humanity in this onrush of "the horde." She had heard a +voice behind her speak of it as "the horde"--a deep, thick, gruff voice +which she knew without looking had filtered its way through a beard. She +agreed with the voice. It was the Horde--that horde which has always beaten +the trails ahead for civilization and made of its own flesh and blood the +foundation of nations. For months it had been pouring steadily into the +mountains--always in and never out, a laughing, shouting, singing, +blaspheming Horde, every ounce of it toughened sinew and red brawn, except +the Straying Angels. One of these sat opposite her, a dark-eyed girl with +over-red lips and hollowed cheeks, and she heard the bearded man say +something to his companions about "dizzy dolls" and "the little angel in +the other seat." This same voice, gruffened in its beard, had told her that +ten thousand of the Horde had gone up ahead of them. Then it whispered +something that made her hands suddenly tighten and a hot flush sweep +through her. She lifted her veil and rose slowly from her seat, as if to +rearrange her dress. Casually she looked straight into the faces of the +bearded man and his companion in the seat behind. They stared. After that +she heard nothing more of the Straying Angels, but only a wildly mysterious +confabulation about "rock hogs," and "coyotes" that blew up whole +mountains, and a hundred and one things about the "rail end." She learned +that it was taking five hundred steers a week to feed the Horde that lay +along the Grand Trunk Pacific between Hogan's Camp and the sea, and that +there were two thousand souls at Tête Jaune Cache, which until a few months +before had slumbered in a century-old quiet broken only by the Indian and +his trade. Then the train stopped in its twisting trail, and the bearded +man and his companion left the car. As they passed her they glanced down. +Again the veil was drawn close. A shimmering tress of hair had escaped its +bondage; that was all they saw. + +[Illustration: "Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, +that's taking me north, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling +MacDonald."] + +The veiled woman drew a deeper breath when they were gone. She saw that +most of the others were getting off. In her end of the car the +hollow-cheeked girl and she were alone. Even in their aloneness these two +women had not dared to speak until now. The one raised her veil again, and +their eyes met across the aisle. For a moment the big, dark, sick-looking +eyes of the "angel" stared. Like the bearded man and his companion, she, +too, understood, and an embarrassed flush added to the colour of the rouge +on her cheeks. The eyes that looked across at her were blue--deep, quiet, +beautiful. The lifted veil had disclosed to her a face that she could not +associate with the Horde. The lips smiled at her--the wonderful eyes +softened with a look of understanding, and then the veil was lowered again. +The flush in the girl's cheek died out, and she smiled back. + +"You are going to Tête Jaune?" she asked. + +"Yes. May I sit with you for a few minutes? I want to ask questions--so +many!" + +The hollow-cheeked girl made room for her at her side. + +"You are new?" + +"Quite new--to this." + +The words, and the manner in which they were spoken, made the other glance +quickly at her companion. + +"It is a strange place to go--Tête Jaune," she said. "It is a terrible +place for a woman." + +"And yet you are going?" + +"I have friends there. Have you?" + +"No." + +The girl stared at her in amazement. Her voice and her eyes were bolder +now. + +"And without friends you are going--_there?_" she cried. "You have no +husband--no brother----" + +"What place is this?" interrupted the other, raising her veil so that she +could look steadily into the other's face. "Would you mind telling me?" + +"It is Miette," replied the girl, the flush reddening her cheeks again. +"There's one of the big camps of the railroad builders down on the Flats. +You can see it through the window. That river is the Athabasca." + +"Will the train stop here very long?" + +The Little Angel shrugged her thin shoulders despairingly. + +"Long enough to get me into The Cache mighty late to-night," she +complained. "We won't move for two hours." + +"I'd be so glad if you could tell me where I can go for a bath and +something to eat. I'm not very hungry--but I'm terribly dusty. I want to +change some clothes, too. Is there a hotel here?" + +Her companion found the question very funny. She had a giggling fit before +she answered. + +"You're sure new," she explained. "We don't have hotels up here. We have +bed-houses, chuck-tents, and bunk-shacks. You ask for Bill's Shack down +there on the Flats. It's pretty good. They'll give you a room, plenty of +water, and a looking-glass--an' charge you a dollar. I'd go with you, but +I'm expecting a friend a little later, and if I move I may lose him. +Anybody will tell you where Bill's place is. It's a red an' white striped +tent--and it's respectable." + +The stranger girl thanked her, and turned for her bag. As she left the car, +the Little Angel's eyes followed her with a malicious gleam that gave them +the strange glow of candles in a sepulchral cavern. The colours which she +unfurled to all seeking eyes were not secret, and yet she was filled with +an inward antagonism that this stranger with the wonderful blue eyes had +dared to see them and recognize them. She stared after the retreating +form--a tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure that filled her with envy and +a dull sort of hatred. She did not hear a step behind her. A hand fell +familiarly on her shoulder, and a coarse voice laughed something in her ear +that made her jump up with an artificial little shriek of pleasure. The man +nodded toward the end of the now empty car. + +"Who's your new friend?" he asked. + +"She's no friend of mine," snapped the girl. "She's another one of them +Dolly Dimples come out to save the world. She's that innocent she wonders +why Tête Jaune ain't a nice place for ladies without escort. I thought I'd +help eggicate her a little an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, +I told her it was respectable!" + +She doubled over the seat in a fit of merriment, and her companion seized +the opportunity to look out of the window. + +The tall, blue-eyed stranger had paused for a moment on the last step of +the car to pin up her veil, fully revealing her face. Then she stepped +lightly to the ground, and found herself facing the sunlight and the +mountains. She drew a slow, deep breath between her parted lips, and turned +wonderingly, for a moment forgetful. It was the first time she had left the +train since entering the mountains, and she understood now why some one in +the coach had spoken of the Miette Plain as Sunshine Pool. Where-ever she +looked the mountains fronted her, with their splendid green slopes reaching +up to their bald caps of gray shale and reddish rock or gleaming summits of +snow. Into this "pool"--this pocket in the mountains--the sun descended in +a wonderful flood. It stirred her blood like a tonic. She breathed more +quickly; a soft glow coloured her cheeks; her eyes grew more deeply violet +as they caught the reflection of the blue sky. A gentle wind fretted the +loose tendrils of brown hair about her face. And the bearded man, staring +through the car window, saw her thus, and for an hour after that the +hollow-cheeked girl wondered at the strange change in him. + +The train had stopped at the edge of the big fill overlooking the Flats. It +was a heavy train, and a train that was helping to make history--a +combination of freight, passenger, and "cattle." It had averaged eight +miles an hour on its climb toward Yellowhead Pass and the end of steel. The +"cattle" had already surged from their stifling and foul-smelling cars in a +noisy inundation of curiously mixed humanity. They were of a dozen +different nationalities, and as the girl looked at them it was not with +revulsion or scorn but with a sudden quickening of heartbeat and a little +laugh that had in it something both of wonder and of pride. This was the +Horde, that crude, monstrous thing of primitive strength and passions that +was overturning mountains in its fight to link the new Grand Trunk Pacific +with the seaport on the Pacific. In that Horde, gathered in little groups, +shifting, sweeping slowly toward her and past her, she saw something as +omnipotent as the mountains themselves. They could not know defeat. She +sensed it without ever having seen them before. For her the Horde now had a +heart and a soul. These were the builders of empire--the man-beasts who +made it possible for Civilization to creep warily and without peril into +new places and new worlds. With a curious shock she thought of the +half-dozen lonely little wooden crosses she had seen through the car window +at odd places along the line of rail. + +And now she sought her way toward the Flats. To do this she had to climb +over a track that was waiting for ballast. A car shunted past her, and on +its side she saw the big, warning red placards--Dynamite. That one word +seemed to breathe to her the spirit of the wonderful energy that was +expending itself all about her. From farther on in the mountains came the +deep, sullen detonations of the "little black giant" that had been rumbling +past her in the car. It came again and again, like the thunderous voice of +the mountains themselves calling out in protest and defiance. And each time +she felt a curious thrill under her feet and the palpitant touch of +something that was like a gentle breath in her ears. She found another +track on her way, and other cars slipped past her crunchingly. Beyond this +second track she came to a beaten road that led down into the Flats, and +she began to descend. + +[Illustration: A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!"] + +Tents shone through the trees on the bottom. The rattle of the cars grew +more distant, and she heard the hum and laughter of voices and the jargon +of a phonograph. At the bottom of the slope she stepped aside to allow a +team and wagon to pass. The wagon was loaded with boxes that rattled and +crashed about as the wheels bumped over stones and roots. The driver of the +team did not look at her. He was holding back with his whole weight; his +eyes bulged a little; he was sweating, in his face was a comedy of +expression that made the girl smile in spite of herself. Then she saw one +of the bobbing boxes and the smile froze into a look of horror. On it was +painted that ominous word--DYNAMITE! + +Two men were coming behind her. + +"Six horses, a wagon an' old Fritz--blown to hell an' not a splinter left +to tell the story," one of them was saying. "I was there three minutes +after the explosion and there wasn't even a ravelling or a horsehair left. +This dynamite's a dam' funny thing. I wouldn't be a rock-hog for a +million!" + +"I'd rather be a rock-hog than Joe--drivin' down this hill a dozen times a +day," replied the other. + +The girl had paused again, and the two men stared at her as they were about +to pass. The explosion of Joe's dynamite could not have startled them more +than the beauty of the face that was turned to them in a quietly appealing +inquiry. + +"I am looking for a place called--Bill's Shack," she said, speaking the +Little Sister's words hesitatingly. "Can you direct me to it, please?" + +The younger of the two men looked at his companion without speaking. The +other, old enough to regard feminine beauty as a trap and an illusion, +turned aside to empty his mouth of a quid of tobacco, bent over, and +pointed under the trees. + +"Can't miss it--third tent-house on your right, with canvas striped like a +barber-pole. That phonnygraff you hear is at Bill's." + +"Thank you." + +She went on. + +Behind her, the two men stood where she had left them. They did not move. +The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe. + +"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't +believe----" + +"Shucks!" interjected the other. + +"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna--with the +heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful. +You call me a fool if you want to--I'm goin' on to Bill's!" + +He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly the +older man was at his side, clutching his arm. + +"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big +enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the +wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right +place." + +At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were not +unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked calmly and +undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There were half a dozen +lounging there, smoking and listening to the phonograph, which some one now +stopped that they might hear every word that was spoken. The girl's head +was high. She was beginning to understand that it would have been less +embarrassing to have gone hungry and dusty. But she had come this far, and +she was determined to get what she wanted--if it was to be had. The colour +shone a little more vividly through the pure whiteness of her skin as she +faced Bill, leaning over his little counter. In him she recognized the +Brute. It was blazoned in his face, in the hungry, seeking look of his +eyes--in the heavy pouches and thick crinkles of his neck and cheeks. For +once Bill Quade himself was at a loss. + +"I understand that you have rooms for rent," she said unemotionally. "May I +hire one until the train leaves for Tête Jaune Cache?" + +The listeners behind her stiffened and leaned forward. One of them grinned +at Quade. This gave him the confidence he needed to offset the fearless +questioning in the blue eyes. None of them noticed a newcomer in the door. +Quade stepped from behind his shelter and faced her. + +"This way," he said, and turned to the drawn curtains beyond them. + +She followed. As the curtains closed after them a chuckling laugh broke the +silence of the on-looking group. The newcomer in the doorway emptied the +bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the breast-pocket of his flannel +shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was blond, shot a little with gray. He +was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than the girl herself, slim-waisted, +with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as they rested on the +still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray. His face was thin +and bronzed, his nose a trifle prominent. He was a man far from handsome, +and yet there was something of fascination and strength about him. He did +not belong to the Horde. Yet he might have been the force behind it, +contemptuous of the chuckling group of rough-visaged men, almost arrogant +in his posture as he eyed the curtains and waited. + +What he expected soon came. It was not the usual giggling, the usual +exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains. Quade did +not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with a sort of +exultant satisfaction. The girl preceded him. She flung the curtains aside +and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire, her blue eyes +filled with the flash of lightning. She came down the single step. Quade +followed her. He put out a hand. + +"Don't take offence, girly," he expostulated. "Look here--ain't it +reasonable to s'pose----" + +He got no farther. The man in the door had advanced, placing himself at the +girl's side. His voice was low and unexcited. + +"You have made a mistake?" he said. + +She took him in at a glance--his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his +slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes. + +"Yes, I have made a mistake--a terrible mistake!" + +"I tell you it ain't fair to take offence," Quade went on. "Now, look +here----" + +In his hand was a roll of bills. The girl did not know that a man could +strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger +struck then. There was one blow, and Quade went down limply. It was so +sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had happened. + +"I chanced to see you go in," he explained, without a tremor in his voice. +"I thought you were making a mistake. I heard you ask for shelter. If you +will come with me I will take you to a friend's." + +"If it isn't too much trouble for you, I will go," she said. "And for +that--in there--thank you!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which +faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town. It +was chiefly of canvas. Now and then a structure of logs added an appearance +of solidity to the whole. The girl did not look too closely. She knew that +they passed places in which there were long rows of cots, and that others +were devoted to trade. She noticed signs which advertised soft drinks and +cigars--always "soft drinks," which sometimes came into camp marked as +"dynamite," "salt pork," and "flour." She was conscious that every one +stared at them as they passed. She heard clearly the expressions of wonder +and curiosity of two women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in +front of a rooming-tent. She looked at the man at her side. She appreciated +his courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship. In her eyes +was a ripple of amusement. + +"This is all strange and new to me--and not at all uninteresting," she +said. "I came expecting--everything. And I am finding it. Why do they stare +at me so? Am I a curiosity?" + +"You are," he answered bluntly. "You are the most beautiful woman they have +ever seen." + +His eyes encountered hers as he spoke. He had answered her question fairly. +There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look. She had +asked for information, and he had given it. In spite of herself the girl's +lips trembled. Her colour deepened. She smiled. + +"Pardon me," she entreated. "I seldom feel like laughing, but I almost do +now. I have encountered so many curious people and have heard so many +curious things during the past twenty-four hours. You don't believe in +concealing your thoughts out here in the wilderness, do you?" + +"I haven't expressed _my_ thoughts," he corrected. "I was telling you what +_they_ think." + +"Oh-h-h--I beg your pardon again!" + +"Not at all," he answered lightly, and now his eyes were laughing frankly +into her own. "I don't mind informing you," he went on, "that I am the +biggest curiosity you will meet between this side of the mountains and the +sea. I am not accustomed to championing women. I allow them to pursue their +own course without personal interference on my part. But--I suppose it will +give you some satisfaction if I confess it--I followed you into Bill's +place because you were more than ordinarily beautiful, and because I wanted +to see fair play. I knew you were making a mistake. I knew what would +happen." + +They had passed the end of the street, and entered a little green plain +that was soft as velvet underfoot. On the farther side of this, sheltered +among the trees, were two or three tents. The man led the way toward these. + +"Now, I suppose I've spoiled it all," he went on, a touch of irony in his +voice. "It was really quite heroic of me to follow you into Bill's place, +don't you think? You probably want to tell me so, but don't quite dare. +And I should play up to my part, shouldn't I? But I cannot--not +satisfactorily. I'm really a bit disgusted with myself for having taken as +much interest in you as I have. I write books for a living. My name is John +Aldous." + +With a little cry of amazement, his companion stopped. Without knowing it, +her hand had gripped his arm. + +"You are John Aldous--who wrote 'Fair Play,' and 'Women!'" she gasped. + +"Yes," he said, amusement in his face. + +"I have read those books--and I have read your plays," she breathed, a +mysterious tremble in her voice. "You despise women!" + +"Devoutly." + +She drew a deep breath. Her hand dropped from his arm. + +"This is very, very funny," she mused, gazing off to the sun-capped peaks +of the mountains. "You have flayed women alive. You have made them want to +mob you. And yet----" + +"Millions of them read my books," he chuckled. + +"Yes--all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into his +face. "And I guess--in many ways--you have pointed out things that are +true." + +It was his turn to show surprise. + +"You believe that?" + +"I do. More than that--I have always thought that I knew your secret--the +big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal +because you know the world would laugh at you. And so--_you despise me!_" + +"Not you." + +"I am a woman." + +He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red. + +"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you +were going to leave on the Tête Jaune train. I am going to take you to a +real dinner. And now--I should let those good people know your name." + +A moment--unflinching and steady--she looked into his face. + +"It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in +fiction. Joanne Gray." + +"I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell +new-baked bread." + +As they moved on he suddenly touched her arm. She felt for a moment the +firm clasp of his fingers. There was a new light in his eyes, a glow of +enthusiasm. + +"I have it!" he cried. "You have brought it to me--the idea. I have been +wanting a name for _her_--the woman in my new book. She is to be a +tremendous surprise. I haven't found a name, until now--one that fits. I +shall call her Ladygray!" + +He felt the girl flinch. He was surprised at the sudden startled look that +shot into her eyes, the swift ebbing of the colour from her cheeks. He drew +away his hand at the strange change in her. He noticed how quickly she was +breathing--that the fingers of her white hands were clasped tensely. + +"You object," he said. + +"Not enough to keep you from using it," she replied in a low voice. "I owe +you a great deal." He noted, too, how quickly she had recovered herself. +Her head was a little higher. She looked toward the tents. "You were not +mistaken," she added. "I smell new-made bread!" + +"And I shall emphasize the first half of it--_Lady_gray," said John Aldous, +as if speaking to himself. "That diminutizes it, you might say--gives it +the touch of sentiment I want. You can imagine a lover saying 'Dear little +_Lady_gray, are you warm and comfy?' He wouldn't say Ladygray as if she +wore a coronet, would he?" + +"Smell-o'-bread--fresh bread!" sniffed Joanne Gray, as if she had not heard +him. "It's making me hungry. Will you please hurry me to it, John Aldous?" + +They were approaching the first of the three tent-houses, over which was a +crudely painted sign which read "Otto Brothers, Guides and Outfitters." It +was a large, square tent, with weather-faded red and blue stripes, and from +it came the cheerful sound of a woman's laughter. Half a dozen +trampish-looking Airedale terriers roused themselves languidly as they drew +nearer. One of them stood up and snarled. + +"They won't hurt you," assured Aldous. "They belong to Jack Bruce and +Clossen Otto--the finest bunch of grizzly dogs in the Rockies." Another +moment, and a woman had appeared in the door. "And that is Mrs. Jack Otto," +he added under his breath. "If all women were like her I wouldn't have +written the things you have read!" + +He might have added that she was Scotch. But this was not necessary. The +laughter was still in her good-humoured face. Aldous looked at his +companion, and he found her smiling back. The eyes of the two women had +already met. + +Briefly Aldous explained what had happened at Quade's, and that the young +woman was leaving on the Tête Jaune train. The good-humoured smile left +Mrs. Otto's face when he mentioned Quade. + +"I've told Jack I'd like to poison that man some day," she cried. "You poor +dear, come in, I'll get you a cup of tea." + +"Which always means dinner in the Otto camp," added Aldous. + +"I'm not so hungry, but I'm tired--so tired," he heard the girl say as she +went in with Mrs. Otto, and there was a new and strangely pathetic note in +her voice. "I want to rest--until the train goes." + +He followed them in, and stood for a moment near the door. + +"There's a room in there, my dear," said the woman, drawing back a curtain. +"Make yourself at home, and lie down on the bed until I have the tea +ready." + +When the curtain had closed behind her, John Aldous spoke in a low voice to +the woman. + +"Will you see her safely to the train, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "It leaves at +a quarter after two. I must be going." + +He felt that he had sufficiently performed his duty. He left the tent, and +paused for a moment outside to touzle affectionately the trampish heads of +the bear dogs. Then he turned away, whistling. He had gone a dozen steps +when a low voice stopped him. He turned. Joanne had come from the door. + +For one moment he stared as if something more wonderful than anything he +had ever seen had risen before him. The girl was bareheaded, and she stood +in a sun mellowed by a film of cloud. Her head was piled with lustrous +coils of gold-brown hair that her hat and veil had hidden. Never had he +looked upon such wonderful hair, crushed and crumpled back from her smooth +forehead; nor such marvellous whiteness of skin and pure blue depths of +eyes! In her he saw now everything that was strong and splendid in woman. +She was not girlishly sweet. She was not a girl. She was a woman--glorious +to look at, a soul glowing out of her eyes, a strength that thrilled him in +the quiet and beautiful mystery of her face. + +"You were going without saying good-bye," she said. "Won't you let me thank +you--a last time?" + +Her voice brought him to himself again. A moment he bent over her hand. A +moment he felt its warm, firm pressure in his own. The smile that flashed +to his lips was hidden from her as he bowed his blond-gray head. + +"Pardon me for the omission," he apologized. "Good-bye--and may good luck +go with you!" + +Their eyes met once more. With another bow he had turned, and was +continuing his way. At the door Joanne Gray looked back. He was whistling +again. His careless, easy stride was filled with a freedom that seemed to +come to her in the breath of the mountains. And then she, too, smiled +strangely as she reëntered the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +If John Aldous had betrayed no visible sign of inward vanquishment he at +least was feeling its effect. For years his writings had made him the +target for a world of women, and many men. The men he had regarded with +indifferent toleration. The women were his life--the "frail and ineffective +creatures" who gave spice to his great adventure, and made his days +anything but monotonous. He was not unchivalrous. Deep down in his +heart--and this was his own secret--he did not even despise women. But he +had seen their weaknesses and their frailties as perhaps no other man had +ever seen them, and he had written of them as no other man had ever +written. This had brought him the condemnation of the host, the admiration +of the few. His own personal veneer of antagonism against woman was purely +artificial, and yet only a few had guessed it. He had built it up about him +as a sort of protection. He called himself "an adventurer in the mysteries +of feminism," and to be this successfully he had argued that he must +destroy in himself the usual heart-emotions of the sex-man and the animal. + +How far he had succeeded in this he himself did not know--until these last +moments when he had bid good-bye to Joanne Gray. He confessed that she had +found a cleft in his armour, and there was an uneasy thrill in his blood. +It was not her beauty alone that had affected him. He had trained himself +to look at a beautiful woman as he might have looked at a beautiful flower, +confident that if he went beyond the mere admiration of it he would find +only burned-out ashes. But in her he had seen something that was more than +beauty, something that for a flashing moment had set stirring every +molecule in his being. He had felt the desire to rest his hand upon her +shining hair! + +He turned off into a winding path that led into the thick poplars, +restraining an inclination to look back in the direction of the Otto camp. +He pulled out the pipe he had dropped into his shirt pocket, filled it with +fresh tobacco, and began smoking. As he smoked, his lips wore a quizzical +smile, for he was honest enough to give Joanne Gray credit for her triumph. +She had awakened a new kind of interest in him--only a passing interest, to +be sure--but a new kind for all that. The fact amused him. In a large way +he was a humourist--few guessing it, and he fully appreciated the humour of +the present situation--that he, John Aldous, touted the world over as a +woman-hater, wanted to peer out through the poplar foliage and see that +wonderful gold-brown head shining in the sun once more! + +He wandered more slowly on his way, wondering with fresh interest what his +friends, the women, would say when they read his new book. His title for it +was "Mothers." It was to be a tremendous surprise. + +Suddenly his face became serious. He faced the sound of a distant +phonograph. It was not the phonograph in Quade's place, but that of a rival +dealer in soft drinks at the end of the "street." For a moment Aldous +hesitated. Then he turned in the direction of the camp. + +Quade was bolstered up on a stool, his back against the thin partition, +when John Aldous sauntered in. There was still a groggy look in his mottled +face. His thick bulk hung a bit limply. In his heavy-lidded eyes, +under-hung by watery pouches of sin and dissipation, there was a vengeful +and beastlike glare. He was surrounded by his friends. One of them was +taking a wet cloth from his head. There were a dozen in the canvas-walled +room, all with their backs to the door, their eyes upon their fallen and +dishonoured chief. For a moment John Aldous paused in the door. The cool +and insolent smile hovered about his lips again, and little crinkles had +gathered at the corners of his eyes. + +"Did I hit you pretty hard, Bill?" he asked. + +Every head was turned toward him. Bill Quade stared, his mouth open. He +staggered to his feet, and stood dizzily. + +"You--damn you!" he cried huskily. + +Three or four of the men had already begun to move toward the stranger. +Their hands were knotted, their faces murderously dark. + +"Wait a minute, boys," warned Aldous coolly. "I've got something to say to +you--and Bill. Then eat me alive if you want to. Do you want to be square +enough to give me a word?" + +Quade had settled back sickly on his stool. The others had stopped, +waiting. The quiet and insolently confident smile had not left Aldous' +lips. + +"You'll feel better in a few minutes, Bill," he consoled. "A hard blow on +the jaw always makes you sick at the pit of the stomach. That dizziness +will pass away shortly. Meanwhile, I'm going to give you and your pals a +little verbal and visual demonstration of what you're up against, and warn +you to bait no traps for a certain young woman whom you've lately seen. +She's going on to Tête Jaune. And I know how your partner plays his game up +there. I'm not particularly anxious to butt into your affairs and the +business of this pretty bunch that's gathered about you, but I've come to +give you a friendly warning for all that. If this young woman is +embarrassed up at Tête Jaune you're going to settle with me." + +Aldous had spoken without a tremor of excitement in his voice. Not one of +the men noticed his speaking lips, his slim hands, or his careless posture +as he leaned in the door. They were looking straight into his eyes, +strangely scintillating and deadly earnest. In such a man mere bulk did not +count. + +"That much--for words," he went on. "Now I'm going to give you the visual +demonstration. I know your game, Bill. You're already planning what you're +going to do. You won't fight fair--because you never have. You've already +decided that some morning I'll turn up missing, or be dug out from under a +fall of rock, or go peacefully floating down the Athabasca. See! There's +nothing in that hand, is there?" + +He stretched out an empty hand toward them, palm up. + +"And now!" + +A twist of the wrist so swift their eyes could not follow, a metallic +click, and the startled group were staring into the black muzzle of a +menacing little automatic. + +"That's known as the sleeve trick, boys," explained Aldous with his +imperturbable smile. "It's a relic of the old gun-fighting days when the +best man was quickest. From now on, especially at night, I shall carry this +little friend of mine just inside my wristband. There are eleven shots in +it, and I shoot fairly straight. Good-day!" + +Before they had recovered from their astonishment he was gone. + +He did not follow the road along which Joanne had come a short time before, +but turned again into the winding trail that led riverward through the +poplars. Where before he had been a little amused at himself, he was now +more seriously disgusted. He was not afraid of Quade, who was perhaps the +most dangerous man along the line of rail. Neither was he afraid of the +lawless men who worked his ends. But he knew that he had made powerful +enemies, and all because of an unknown woman whom he had never seen until +half an hour before. It was this that disturbed his equanimity--the _woman_ +of it, and the knowledge that his interference had been unsolicited and +probably unnecessary. And now that he had gone this far he found it not +easy to recover his balance. Who was this Joanne Gray? he asked himself. +She was not ordinary--like the hundred other women who had gone on ahead of +her to Tête Jaune Cache. If she had been that, he would soon have been in +his little shack on the shore of the river, hard at work. He had planned +work for himself that afternoon, and he was nettled to discover that his +enthusiasm for the grand finale of a certain situation in his novel was +gone. Yet for this he did not blame her. He was the fool. Quade and his +friends would make him feel that sooner or later. + +His trail led him to a partly dry muskeg bottom. Beyond this was a thicker +growth of timber, mostly spruce and cedar, from behind which came the +rushing sound of water. A few moments more and he stood with the wide +tumult of the Athabasca at his feet. He had chosen this spot for his little +cabin because the river ran wild here among the rocks, and because +pack-outfits going into the southward mountains could not disturb him by +fording at this point. Across the river rose the steep embankments that +shut in Buffalo Prairie, and still beyond that the mountains, thick with +timber rising billow on billow until trees looked like twigs, with gray +rock and glistening snow shouldering the clouds above the last purple line. +The cabin in which he had lived and worked for many weeks faced the river +and the distant Saw Tooth Range, and was partly hidden in a clump of +jack-pines. He opened the door and entered. Through the window to the south +and west he could see the white face of Mount Geikie, and forty miles away +in that wilderness of peaks, the sombre frown of Hardesty; through it the +sun came now, flooding his work as he had left it. The last page of +manuscript on which he had been working was in his typewriter. He sat down +to begin where he had left off in that pivotal situation in his +masterpiece. + +He read and re-read the last two or three pages of the manuscript, +struggling to pick up the threads where he had dropped them. With each +reading he became more convinced that his work for that afternoon was +spoiled. And by whom? By _what?_ A little fiercely he packed his pipe with +fresh tobacco. Then he leaned back, lighted it, and laughed. More and more +as the minutes passed he permitted himself to think of the strange young +woman whose beauty and personality had literally projected themselves into +his workshop. He marvelled at the crudity of the questions which he asked +himself, and yet he persisted in asking them. Who was she? What could be +her mission at Tête Jaune Cache? She had repeated to him what she had said +to the girl in the coach--that at Tête Jaune she had no friends. Beyond +that, and her name, she had offered no enlightenment. + +In the brief space that he had been with her he had mentally tabulated her +age as twenty-eight--no older. Her beauty alone, the purity of her eyes, +the freshness of her lips, and the slender girlishness of her figure, might +have made him say twenty, but with those things he had found the maturer +poise of the woman. It had been a flashlight picture, but one that he was +sure of. + +Several times during the next hour he turned to his work, and at last gave +up his efforts entirely. From a peg in the wall he took down a little +rifle. He had found it convenient to do much of his own cooking, and he had +broken a few laws. The partridges were out of season, but temptingly fat +and tender. With a brace of young broilers in mind for supper, he left the +cabin and followed the narrow foot-trail up the river. He hunted for half +an hour before he stirred a covey of birds. Two of these he shot. +Concealing his meat and his gun near the trail he continued toward the ford +half a mile farther up, wondering if Stevens, who was due to cross that +day, had got his outfit over. Not until then did he look at his watch. He +was surprised to find that the Tête Jaune train had been gone three +quarters of an hour. For some unaccountable reason he felt easier. He went +on, whistling. + +At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting +one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation. + +"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up. "You never can tell what +it's going to do overnight. Look there! Would you try to cross?" + +"I wouldn't," replied Aldous. "It's a foot higher than yesterday. I +wouldn't take the chance." + +"Not with two guides, a cook, and a horse-wrangler on your pay-roll--and a +hospital bill as big as Geikie staring you in the face?" argued Stevens, +who had been sick for three months. "I guess you'd pretty near take a +chance. I've a notion to." + +"I wouldn't," repeated Aldous. + +"But I've lost two days already, and I'm taking that bunch of sightseers +out for a lump sum, guaranteeing 'em so many days on the trail. This ain't +what you might call _on the trail_. They don't expect to pay for this +delay, and that outfit back in the bush is costing me thirty dollars a day. +We can get the dunnage and ourselves over in the flat-boat. It'll make our +arms crack--but we can do it. I've got twenty-seven horses. I've a notion +to chase 'em in. The river won't be any lower to-morrow." + +"But you may be a few horses ahead." + +Stevens bit off a chunk of tobacco and sat down. For a few moments he +looked at the muddy flood with an ugly eye. Then he chuckled, and grinned. + +"Came through the camp half an hour ago," he said. "Hear you cleaned up on +Bill Quade." + +"A bit," said Aldous. + +Stevens rolled his quid and spat into the water slushing at his feet. + +"Guess I saw the woman when she got off the train," he went on. "She +dropped something. I picked it up, but she was so darned pretty as she +stood there looking about I didn't dare go up an' give it to her. If it had +been worth anything I'd screwed up my courage. But it wasn't--so I just +gawped like the others. It was a piece of paper. Mebby you'd like it as a +souvenir, seein' as you laid out Quade for her." + +As he spoke, Stevens fished a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and +gave it to his companion. Aldous had sat down beside him. He smoothed the +page out on his knee. There was no writing on it, but it was crowded thick +with figures, as if the maker of the numerals had been doing some problem +in mathematics. The chief thing that interested him was that wherever +monetary symbols were used it was the "pound" and not the "dollar" sign. +The totals of certain columns were rather startling. + +"Guess she's a millionaire if that's her own money she's been figgering," +said Stevens. "Notice that figger there!" He pointed with a stubby +forefinger. "Pretty near a billion, ain't it?" + +"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Aldous. + +He was thinking of the "pound" sign. She had not looked like the +Englishwomen he had met. He folded the slip of paper and put it in his +pocket. + +Stevens eyed him seriously. + +"I was coming over to give you a bit of advice before I left for the +Maligne Lake country," he said. "You'd better move. Quade won't want you +around after this. Besides----" + +"What?" + +"My kid heard something," continued the packer, edging nearer. "You was +mighty good to the kid when I was down an' out, Aldous. I ought to tell +you. It wasn't an hour ago the kid was behind the tent an' he heard Quade +and Slim Barker talking. So far as I can find from the kid, Quade has gone +nutty over her. He's ravin'. He told Slim that he'd give ten thousand +dollars to get her in his hands. What sent the boy down to me was Quade +tellin' Slim that he'd get _you_ first. He told Slim to go on to Tête +Jaune--follow the girl!" + +"The deuce you say!" cried Aldous, clutching the other's arm suddenly. +"He's done that?" + +"That's what the kid says." + +Aldous rose to his feet slowly. The careless smile was playing about his +mouth again. A few men had learned that in those moments John Aldous was +dangerous. + +"The kid is undoubtedly right," he said, looking down at Stevens. "But I am +quite sure the young woman is capable of taking care of herself. Quade has +a tremendous amount of nerve, setting Slim to follow her, hasn't he? Slim +may run up against a husband or a brother." + +Stevens haunched his shoulders. + +"It's not the woman I'm thinking about. It's you. I'd sure change my +location." + +"Why wouldn't it be just as well if I told the police of his threat?" asked +Aldous, looking across the river with a glimmer of humour in his eyes. + +"Oh, hell!" was the packer's rejoinder. + +Slowly he unwound his long legs and rose to his feet. + +"Take my advice--move!" he said. "As for me, I'm going to cross that cussed +river this afternoon or know the reason why." + +He stalked away in the direction of his outfit, chewing viciously at his +quid. For a few moments Aldous stood undecided. He would liked to have +joined the half-dozen men he saw lounging restfully a distance beyond the +grazing ponies. But Stevens had made him acutely aware of a new danger. He +was thinking of his cabin--and the priceless achievement of his last months +of work, his manuscript. If Quade should destroy that---- + +He clenched his hands and walked swiftly toward his camp. To "burn out" an +enemy was one of Quade's favourite methods of retaliation. He had heard +this. He also knew that Quade's work was done so cleverly that the police +had been unable to call him to account. + +Quade's status had interested Aldous from the beginning. He had discovered +that Quade and Culver Rann, his partner at Tête Jaune, were forces to be +reckoned with even by the "powers" along the line of rail. They were the +two chiefs of the "underground," the men who controlled the most dangerous +element from Miette to Fort George. He had once seen Culver Rann, a quiet, +keen-eyed, immaculately groomed man of forty--the cleverest scoundrel that +had ever drifted into the Canadian west. He had been told that Rann was +really the brain of the combination, and that the two had picked up a +quarter of a million in various ways. But it was Quade with whom he had to +deal now, and he began to thank Stevens for his warning. He was filled with +a sense of relief when he reached his cabin and found it as he had left +it. He always made a carbon copy of his work. This copy he now put into a +waterproof tin box, and the box he concealed under a log a short distance +back in the bush. + +"Now go ahead, Quade," he laughed to himself, a curious, almost exultant +ring in his voice. "I haven't had any real excitement for so long I can't +remember, and if you start the fun there's going to _be_ fun!" + +He returned to his birds, perched himself behind a bush at the river's +edge, and began skinning them. He had almost finished when he heard hoarse +shouts from up the river. From his position he could see the stream a +hundred yards below the ford. Stevens had driven in his horses. He could +see them breasting the first sweep of the current, their heads held high, +struggling for the opposite shore. He rose, dropped his birds, and stared. + +"Good God, what a fool!" he gasped. + +He saw the tragedy almost before it had begun. Still three hundred yards +below the swimming horses was the gravelly bar which they must reach on the +opposite side. He noted the grayish strip of smooth water that marked the +end of the dead-line. Three or four of the stronger animals were forging +steadily toward this. The others grouped close together, almost motionless +in their last tremendous fight, were left farther and farther behind. Then +came the break. A mare and her yearling colt had gone in with the bunch. +Aldous saw the colt, with its small head and shoulders high out of the +water, sweep down like a chip with the current. A cold chill ran through +him as he heard the whinneying scream of the mother--a warning cry that +held for him the pathos and the despair of a creature that was human. He +knew what it meant. "Wait--I'm coming--I'm coming!" was in that cry. He saw +the mare give up and follow resistlessly with the deadly current, her eyes +upon her colt. The heads behind her wavered, then turned, and in another +moment the herd was sweeping down to its destruction. + +Aldous felt like turning his head. But the spectacle fascinated him, and he +looked. He did not think of Stevens and his loss as the first of the herd +plunged in among the rocks. He stood with white face and clenched hands, +leaning over the water boiling at his feet, cursing softly in his +helplessness. To him came the last terrible cries of the perishing animals. +He saw head after head go under. Out of the white spume of a great rock +against which the flood split itself with the force of an avalanche he saw +one horse pitched bodily, as if thrown from a huge catapault. The last +animal had disappeared when chance turned his eyes upstream and close in to +shore. Here flowed a steady current free of rock, and down this--head and +shoulders still high out of the water--came the colt! What miracle had +saved the little fellow thus far Aldous did not stop to ask. Fifty yards +below it would meet the fate of the others. Half that distance in the +direction of the maelstrom below was the dead trunk of a fallen spruce +overhanging the water for fifteen or twenty feet. In a flash Aldous was +racing toward it. He climbed out on it, leaned far over, and reached down. +His hand touched the water. In the grim excitement of rescue he forgot his +own peril. There was one chance in twenty that the colt would come within +his reach, and it did. He made a single lunge and caught it by the ear. For +a moment after that his heart turned sick. Under the added strain the dead +spruce sagged down with a warning crack. But it held, and Aldous hung to +his grip on the ear. Foot by foot he wormed his way back, until at last he +had dragged the little animal ashore. + +And then a voice spoke behind him, a voice that he would have recognized +among ten thousand, low, sweet, thrilling. + +"That was splendid, John Aldous!" it said. "If I were a man I would want to +be a man like you!" + +He turned. A few steps from him stood Joanne Gray. Her face was as white as +the bit of lace at her throat. Her lips were colourless, and her bosom rose +and fell swiftly. He knew that she, too, had witnessed the tragedy. And the +eyes that looked at him were glorious. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +To John Aldous Joanne's appearance at this moment was like an anti-climax. +It plunged him headlong for a single moment into what he believed to be the +absurdity of a situation. He had a quick mental picture of himself out on +the dead spruce, performing a bit of mock-heroism by dragging in a +half-drowned colt by one ear. In another instant this had passed, and he +was wondering why Joanne Gray was not on her way to Tête Jaune. + +"It was splendid!" she was saying again, her eyes glowing at him. "I know +men who would not have risked that for a human!" + +"Perhaps they would have been showing good judgment," replied Aldous. + +He noticed now that she was holding with one hand the end of a long slender +sapling which a week or two before he had cut and trimmed for a fish-pole. +He nodded toward it, a half-cynical smile on his lips. + +"Were you going to fish me out--or the colt?" he asked. + +"You," she replied. "I thought you were in danger." And then she added, "I +suppose you are deeply grateful that fate did not compel you to be saved by +a woman." + +"Not at all. If the spruce had snapped, I would have caught at the end of +your sapling like any drowning rat--or man. Allow me to thank you." + +She had stepped down to the level strip of sand on which the colt was +weakly struggling to rise to its feet. She was breathing quickly. Her face +was still pale. She was without a hat, and as she bent for a moment over +the colt Aldous felt his eyes drawn irresistibly to the soft thick coils of +her hair, a glory of colour that made him think of the lustrous brown of a +ripe wintelberry. She looked up suddenly and caught his eyes upon her. + +"I came quite by accident," she explained quickly. "I wanted to be alone, +and Mrs. Otto said this path would lead to the river. When I saw you I was +about to turn back. And then I saw the other--the horses coming down the +stream. It was terrible. Are they all drowned?" + +"All that you saw. It wasn't a pretty sight, was it?" There was a +suggestive inquiry in his voice as he added, "If you had gone to Tête Jaune +you would have missed the unpleasantness of the spectacle." + +"I would have gone, but something happened. They say it was a cave-in, a +slide--something like that. The train cannot go on until to-morrow." + +"And you are to stay with the Ottos?" + +She nodded. + +Quick as a flash she had seemed to read his thoughts. + +"I am sorry," she added, before he could speak. "I can see that I have +annoyed you. I have literally projected myself into your work, and I am +afraid that I have caused you trouble. Mrs. Otto has told me of this man +they call Quade. She says he is dangerous. And I have made him your enemy." + +"I am, not afraid of Quade. The incident was nothing more than an agreeable +interruption to what was becoming a rather monotonous existence up here. I +have always believed, you know, that a certain amount of physical +excitement is good oil for our mental machinery. That, perhaps, was why you +caught me hauling at His Coltship's ear." + +He had spoken stiffly. There was a hard note in his voice, a suggestion of +something that was displeasing in his forced laugh. He knew that in these +moments he was fighting against his inner self--against his desire to tell +her how glad he was that something had held back the Tête Jaune train, and +how wonderful her hair looked in the afternoon sun. He was struggling to +keep himself behind the barriers he had built up and so long maintained in +his writings. And yet, as he looked, he felt something crumbling into +ruins. He knew that he had hurt her. The hardness of his words, the +coldness of his smile, his apparently utter indifference to her had sent +something that was almost like a quick, physical pain into her eyes. He +drew a step nearer, so that he caught the soft contour of her cheek. Joanne +Gray heard him, and lowered her head slightly, so that he could not see. +She was a moment too late. On her cheek Aldous saw a single creeping +drop--a tear. + +In an instant he was at her side. With a quick movement she brushed the +tear away before she faced him. + +"I've hurt you," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I've hurt you, +and God knows I'm a brute for doing it. I've treated you as badly as +Quade--only in a different way. I know how I've made you feel--that you've +been a nuisance, and have got me into trouble, and that I don't want to +have anything more to do with you. Have I made you feel that?" + +"I am afraid--you have." + +He reached out a hand, and almost involuntarily her own came to it. She saw +the change in his face, regret, pain, and then that slow-coming, wonderful +laughter in his eyes. + +"That's just how I set out to make you feel," he confessed, the warmth of +her hand sending a thrill through him. "I might as well be frank, don't you +think? Until you came I had but one desire, and that was to finish my book. +I had planned great work for to-day. And you spoiled it. I couldn't get you +out of my mind. And it made me--ugly." + +"And that was--all?" she whispered, a tense waiting in her eyes. "You +didn't think----" + +"What Quade thought," he bit in sharply. The grip of his fingers hurt her +hand. "No, not that. My God, I didn't make you think _that?_" + +"I'm a stranger--and they say women don't go to Tête Jaune alone," she +answered doubtfully. + +"That's true, they don't--not as a general rule. Especially women like you. +You're alone, a stranger, and too beautiful. I don't say that to flatter +you. You are beautiful, and you undoubtedly know it. To let you go on alone +and unprotected among three or four thousand men like most of those up +there would be a crime. And the women, too--the Little Sisters. They'd +blast you. If you had a husband, a brother or a father waiting for you it +would be different. But you've told me you haven't. You have made me change +my mind about my book. You are of more interest to me just now than that. +Will you believe me? Will you let me be a friend, if you need a friend?" + +To Aldous it seemed that she drew herself up a little proudly. For a moment +she seemed taller. A rose-flush of colour spread over her cheeks. She drew +her hand from him. And yet, as she looked at him, he could see that she was +glad. + +"Yes, I believe you," she said. "But I must not accept your offer of +friendship. You have done more for me now than I can ever repay. Friendship +means service, and to serve me would spoil your plans, for you are in great +haste to complete your book." + +"If you mean that you need my assistance, the book can wait." + +"I shouldn't have said that," she cut in quickly, her lips tightening +slightly. "It was utterly absurd of me to hint that I might require +assistance--that I cannot take care of myself. But I shall be proud of the +friendship of John Aldous." + +"Yes, you can take care of yourself, Ladygray," said Aldous softly, looking +into her eyes and yet speaking as if to himself. "That is why you have +broken so curiously into my life. It's _that_--and not your beauty. I have +known beautiful women before. But they were--just women, frail things that +might snap under stress. I have always thought there is only one woman in +ten thousand who would not do that--under certain conditions. I believe you +are that one in ten thousand. You can go on to Tête Jaune alone. You can go +anywhere alone--and care for yourself." + +He was looking at her so strangely that she held her breath, her lips +parted, the flush in her cheeks deepening. + +"And the strangest part of it all is that I have always known you away back +in my imagination," he went on. "You have lived there, and have troubled +me. I could not construct you perfectly. It is almost inconceivable that +you should have borne the same name--Joanne. Joanne, of 'Fair Play.'" + +She gave a little gasp. + +"Joanne was--terrible," she cried. "She was bad--bad to the heart and soul +of her!" + +"She was splendid," replied Aldous, without a change in his quiet voice. +"She was splendid--but bad. I racked myself to find a soul for her, and I +failed. And yet she was splendid. It was my crime--not hers--that she +lacked a soul. She would have been my ideal, but I spoiled her. And by +spoiling her I sold half a million copies of the book. I did not do it +purposely. I would have given her a soul if I could have found one. She +went her way." + +"And you compare me to--_her?_" + +"Yes," said Aldous deliberately. "You are that Joanne. But you possess what +I could not give to her. Joanne of 'Fair Play' was splendid without a soul. +You have what she lacked. You may not understand, but you have come to +perfect what I only partly created." + +The colour had slowly ebbed from Joanne's face. There was a mysterious +darkness in her eyes. + +"If you were not John Aldous I would--strike you," she said. "As it +is--yes--I want you as a friend." + +She held out her hand. For a moment he felt its warmth again in his own. +He bowed over it. Her eyes rested steadily on his blond head, and again she +noted the sprinkle of premature gray in his hair. For a second time she +felt almost overwhelmingly the mysterious strength of this man. Perhaps +each took three breaths before John Aldous raised his head. In that time +something wonderful and complete passed between them. Neither could have +told the other what it was. When their eyes met again, it was in their +faces. + +"I have planned to have supper in my cabin to-night," said Aldous, breaking +the tension of that first moment. "Won't you be my guest, Ladygray?" + +"Mrs. Otto----" she began. + +"I will go to her at once and explain that you are going to eat partridges +with me," he interrupted. "Come--let me show you into my workshop and +home." + +He led her to the cabin and into its one big room. + +"You will make yourself at home while I am gone, won't you?" he invited. +"If it will give you any pleasure you may peel a few potatoes. I won't be +gone ten minutes." + +Not waiting for any protest she might have, Aldous slipped back through the +door and took the path up to the Ottos'. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +As soon as he had passed from the view of the cabin door Aldous shortened +his pace. He knew that never in his life had he needed to readjust himself +more than at the present moment. A quarter of an hour had seen a complete +and miraculous revolution within him. It was a change so unusual and +apparently so impossible that he could not grasp the situation and the fact +all at once. But the truth of it swept over him more and more swiftly as he +made his way along the dark, narrow trail that led up to the Miette Plain. +It was something that not only amazed and thrilled him. First--as in all +things--he saw the humour of it. He, John Aldous of all men, had utterly +obliterated himself, and for a _woman_. He had even gone so far as to offer +the sacrifice of his most important work. Frankly he had told Joanne that +she interested him more just now than his book. Again he repeated to +himself that it had not been a surrender--but an obliteration. With a pair +of lovely eyes looking quietly into him, he had wiped the slate clean of +the things he had preached for ten years and the laws he had made for +himself. And as he came in sight of the big Otto tent, he found himself +smiling, his breath coming quickly, strange voices singing within him. + +He stopped to load and light his pipe before he faced Mrs. Otto, and he +clouded himself in as much smoke as possible while he explained to her +that he had almost forced Joanne to stop at his cabin and eat partridges +with him. He learned that the Tête Jaune train could not go on until the +next day, and after Mrs. Otto had made him take a loaf of fresh bread and a +can of home-made marmalade as a contribution to their feast, he turned back +toward the cabin, trying to whistle in his old careless way. + +The questions he had first asked himself about Joanne forced themselves +back upon him now with deeper import. Almost unconsciously he had revealed +himself to her. He had spread open for her eyes and understanding the page +which he had so long hidden. He had as much as confessed to her that she +had come to change him--to complete what he had only half created. It had +been an almost inconceivable and daring confession, and he believed that +she understood him. More than that, she had read about him. She had read +his books. She knew John Aldous--the man. + +But what did he know about her beyond the fact that her name was Joanne +Gray, and that the on-sweeping Horde had brought her into his life as +mysteriously as a storm might have flung him a bit of down from a swan's +breast? Where had she come from? And why was she going to Tête Jaune? It +must be some important motive was taking her to a place like Tête Jaune, +the rail-end, a place of several thousand men, with its crude muscle and +brawn and the seven passions of man. It was an impossible place for a young +and beautiful woman unprotected. If Joanne had known any one among the +engineers or contractors, or had she possessed a letter of introduction to +them, the tense lines would not have gathered so deeply about the corners +of Aldous' mouth. But these men whose brains were behind the Horde--the +engineers and the contractors--knew what women alone and unprotected meant +at Tête Jaune. Such women floated in with the Horde. And Joanne was going +in with the Horde. There lay the peril--and the mystery of it. + +So engrossed was Aldous in his thoughts that he had come very quietly to +the cabin door. It was Joanne's voice that roused him. Sweet and low she +was singing a few lines from a song which he had never heard. + +She stopped when Aldous appeared at the door. It seemed to him that her +eyes were a deeper, more wonderful blue as she looked up at him, and +smiled. She had found a towel for an apron, and was peeling potatoes. + +"You will have some unusual excuses to make very soon," she greeted him. +"We had a visitor while you were gone. I was washing the potatoes when I +looked up to find a pair of the fiercest, reddest moustaches I have ever +seen, ornamenting the doorway. The man had two eyes that seemed about to +fall out when he saw me. He popped away like a rabbit--and--and--there's +something he left behind in his haste!" + +Joanne's eyes were flooded with laughter as she nodded at the door. On the +sill was a huge quid of tobacco. + +"Stevens!" Aldous chuckled. "God bless my soul, if you frightened him into +giving up a quid of tobacco like that you sure _did_ startle him some!" He +kicked Stevens' lost property out with the toe of his boot and turned to +Joanne, showing her the fresh bread and marmalade. "Mrs. Otto sent these to +you," he said. "And the train won't leave until to-morrow." + +In her silence he pulled a chair in front of her, sat down close, and +thrust the point of his hunting knife into one of the two remaining +potatoes. + +"And when it does go I'm going with you," he added. + +He expected this announcement would have some effect on her. As she jumped +up with the pan of potatoes, leaving the one still speared on the end of +his knife, he caught only the corner of a bewitching smile. + +"You still believe that I will be unable to take care of myself up at this +terrible Tête Jaune?" she asked, bending for a moment over the table. "Do +you?" + +"No. You can care for yourself anywhere, Ladygray," he repeated. "But I am +quite sure that it will be less troublesome for me to see that no insults +are offered you than for you to resent those insults when they come. Tête +Jaune is full of Quades," he added. + +The smile was gone from her face when she turned to him. Her blue eyes were +filled with a tense anxiety. + +"I had almost forgotten that man," she whispered. "And you mean that you +would fight for me--again?" + +"A thousand times." + +The colour grew deeper in her cheeks. "I read something about you once that +I have never forgotten, John Aldous," she said. "It was after you returned +from Thibet. It said that you were largely made up of two emotions--your +contempt for woman and your love of adventure; that it would be impossible +for you not to see a flaw in one, and that for the other--physical +excitement--you would go to the ends of the earth. Perhaps it is this--your +desire for adventure--that makes you want to go with me to Tête Jaune?" + +"I am beginning to believe that it will be the greatest adventure of my +life," he replied, and something in his quiet voice held her silent. He +rose to his feet, and stood before her. "It is already the Great +Adventure," he went on. "I feel it. And I am the one to judge. Until to-day +I would have staked my life that no power could have wrung from me the +confession I am going to make to you voluntarily. I have laughed at the +opinion the world has held of me. To me it has all been a colossal joke. I +have enjoyed the hundreds of columns aimed at me by excited women through +the press. They have all asked the same question: Why do you not write of +the good things in women instead of always the bad? I have never given them +an answer. But I answer you now--here. I have not picked upon the +weaknesses of women because I despise them. Those weaknesses--the +destroying frailties of womankind--I have driven over rough-shod through +the pages of my books because I have always believed that Woman was the one +thing which God came nearest to creating _perfect_. I believe they should +be perfect. And because they have not quite that perfection which should be +theirs I have driven the cold facts home as hard as I could. I have been a +fool and an iconoclast instead of a builder. This confession to you is +proof that you have brought me face to face with the greatest adventure of +all." + +The colour in her cheeks had centred in two bright spots. Her lips formed +words which came slowly, strangely. + +"I guess--I understand," she said. "Perhaps I, too, would have been that +kind of an iconoclast--if I could have put the things I have thought into +written words." She drew a deep breath, and went on, her eyes full upon +him, speaking as if out of a dream. "The Great Adventure--for you. Yes; and +perhaps for both." + +Her hands were drawn tightly to her breast. Something about her as she +stood there, her back to the table, drew John Aldous to her side, forced +the question from his lips: "Tell me, Ladygray--why are you going to Tête +Jaune?" + +In that same strange way, as if her lips were framing words beyond their +power to control, she answered: + +"I am going--to find--my husband." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Silent, his head bowed a little, John Aldous stood before her after those +last words. A slight noise outside gave him the pretext to turn to the +door. She was going to Tête Jaune--to find her husband! He had not expected +that. For a breath, as he looked out toward the bush, his mind was in a +strange daze. A dozen times she had given him to understand there was no +husband, father, or brother waiting for her at the rail-end. She had told +him that she was alone--without friends. And now, like a confession, those +words had come strangely from her lips. + +What he had heard was one of Otto's pack-horses coming down to drink. He +turned toward her again. + +Joanne stood with her back still to the table. She had slipped a hand into +the front of her dress and had drawn forth a long thick envelope. As she +opened it, Aldous saw that it contained banknotes. From among these she +picked out a bit of paper and offered it to him. + +"That will explain--partly," she said. + +It was a newspaper clipping, worn and faded, with a date two years old. It +had apparently been cut from an English paper, and told briefly of the +tragic death of Mortimer FitzHugh, son of a prominent Devonshire family, +who had lost his life while on a hunting trip in the British Columbia +Wilds. + +"He was my husband," said Joanne, as Aldous finished. "Until six months ago +I had no reason to believe that the statement in the paper was not true. +Then--an acquaintance came out here hunting. He returned with a strange +story. He declared that he had seen Mr. FitzHugh alive. Now you know why I +am here. I had not meant to tell you. It places me in a light which I do +not think that I can explain away--just now. I have come to prove or +disprove his death. If he is alive----" + +For the first time she betrayed the struggle she was making against some +powerful emotion which she was fighting to repress. Her face had paled. She +stopped herself with a quick breath, as if knowing that she had already +gone too far. + +"I guess I understand," said Aldous. "For some reason your anxiety is not +that you will find him dead, Ladygray, but that you may find him alive." + +"Yes--yes, that is it. But you must not urge me farther. It is a terrible +thing to say. You will think I am not a woman, but a fiend. And I am your +guest. You have invited me to supper. And--the potatoes are ready, and +there is no fire!" + +She had forced a smile back to her lips. John Aldous whirled toward the +door. + +"I will have the partridges in two seconds!" he cried. "I dropped them when +the horses went through the rapids." + +The oppressive and crushing effect of Joanne's first mention of a husband +was gone. He made no effort to explain or analyze the two sudden changes +that swept over him. He accepted them as facts, and that was all. Where a +few moments before there had been the leaden grip of something that seemed +to be physically choking him, there was now again the strange buoyancy with +which he had gone to the Otto tent. He began to whistle as he went to the +river's edge. He was whistling when he returned, the two birds in his hand. +Joanne was waiting for him in the door. Again her face was a faintly tinted +vision of tranquil loveliness; her eyes were again like the wonderful blue +pools over the sunlit mountains. She smiled as he came up. He was +amazed--not that she had recovered so completely from the emotional +excitement that had racked her, but because she betrayed in no way a sign +of grief--of suspense or of anxiety. A few minutes ago he had heard her +singing. He could almost believe that her lips might break into song again +as she stood there. + +From that moment until the sun sank behind the mountains and gray shadows +began to creep in where the light had been, there was no other reference to +the things that had happened or the things that had been said since +Joanne's arrival. For the first time in years John Aldous completely forgot +his work. He was lost in Joanne. With the tremendous reaction that was +working out in him she became more and more wonderful to him with each +breath that he drew. He made no effort to control the change that was +sweeping through him. His one effort was to keep it from being too apparent +to her. + +The way in which Joanne had taken his invitation was as delightful as it +was new to him. She had become both guest and hostess. With her lovely arms +bared halfway to the shoulders she rolled out a batch of biscuits. "Hot +biscuits go so well with marmalade," she told him. He built a fire. Beyond +that, and bringing in the water, she gave him to understand that his duties +were at an end, and that he could smoke while she prepared the supper. With +the beginning of dusk he closed the cabin door that he might have an excuse +for lighting the big hanging lamp a little earlier. He had imagined how its +warm glow would flood down upon the thick soft coils of her shining hair. + +Every fibre in him throbbed with a keen and exquisite satisfaction as he +sat down opposite her. During the meal he looked into the quiet, velvety +blue of her eyes a hundred times. He found it a delightful sensation to +talk to her and look into those eyes at the same time. He told her more +about himself than he had ever told another soul. It was she who spoke +first of the manuscript upon which he was working. He had spoken of certain +adventures that had led up to the writing of one of his books. + +"And this last book you are writing, which you call 'Mothers,'" she said. +"Is it to be like 'Fair Play?'" + +"It was to have been the last of the trilogy. But it won't be now, +Ladygray. I've changed my mind." + +"But it is so nearly finished, you say?" + +"I would have completed it this week. I was rushing it to an end at fever +heat when--you came." + +He saw the troubled look in her eyes, and hastened to add: + +"Let us not talk about that manuscript, Ladygray. Some day I will let you +read it, and then you will understand why your coming has not hurt it. At +first I was unreasonably disturbed because I thought that I must finish it +within a week from to-day. I start out on a new adventure then--a strange +adventure, into the North." + +"That means--the wild country?" she asked. "Up there in the North--there +are no people?" + +"An occasional Indian, perhaps a prospector now and then," he said. "Last +year I travelled a hundred and twenty-seven days without seeing a human +face except that of my Cree companion." + +She had leaned a little over the table, and was looking at him intently, +her eyes shining. + +"That is why I have understood you, and read between the printed lines in +your books," she said. "If I had been a man, I would have been a great deal +like you. I love those things--loneliness, emptiness, the great spaces +where you hear only the whisperings of the winds and the fall of no other +feet but your own. Oh, I should have been a man! It was born in me. It was +a part of me. And I loved it--loved it." + +A poignant grief had shot into her eyes. Her voice broke almost in a sob. +Amazed, he looked at her in silence across the table. + +"You have lived that life, Ladygray?" he said after a moment. "You have +seen it?" + +"Yes," she nodded, clasping and unclasping her slim white hands. "For years +and years, perhaps even more than you, John Aldous! I was born in it. And +it was my life for a long time--until my father died." She paused, and he +saw her struggling to subdue the quivering throb in her throat. "We were +inseparable," she went on, her voice becoming suddenly strange and quiet. +"He was father, mother--everything to me. It was too wonderful. Together +we hunted out the mysteries and the strange things in the out-of-the-way +places of the earth. It was his passion. He had given birth to it in me. I +was always with him, everywhere. And then he died, soon after his discovery +of that wonderful buried city of Mindano, in the heart of Africa. Perhaps +you have read----" + +"Good God," breathed Aldous, so low that his voice did not rise above a +whisper. "Joanne--Ladygray--you are not speaking of Daniel Gray--Sir Daniel +Gray, the Egyptologist, the antiquarian who uncovered the secrets of an +ancient and wonderful civilization in the heart of darkest Africa?" + +"Yes." + +"And you--are his daughter?" + +She bowed her head. + +Like one in a dream John Aldous rose from his chair and went to her. He +seized her hands and drew her up so that they stood face to face. Again +that strange and beautiful calmness filled her eyes. + +"Our trails have strangely crossed, Lady Joanne," he said. "They have been +crossing--for years. While Sir Daniel was at Murja, on the eve of his great +discovery, I was at St. Louis on the Senegal coast. I slept in that little +Cape Verde hotel, in the low whitewashed room overlooking the sea. The +proprietor told me that Sir Daniel had occupied it before me, and I found a +broken fountain pen in the drawer of that sickly black teakwood desk, with +the carved serpent's head. And I was at Gampola at another time, headed for +the interior of Ceylon, when I learned that I was travelling again one of +Sir Daniel's trails. And you were with him!" + +"Always," said Joanne. + +For a few tense moments they had looked steadily into each other's eyes. +Swiftly, strangely, the world was bridging itself for them. Their minds +swept back swiftly as the fire in a thunder-sky. They were no longer +strangers. They were no longer friends of a day. The grip of Aldous' hands +tightened. A hundred things sprang to his lips. Before he could speak, he +saw a sudden, startled change leap into Joanne's face. She had turned her +face a little, so that she was looking toward the window. A frightened cry +broke from her lips. Aldous whirled about. There was nothing there. He +looked at Joanne again. She was white and trembling. Her hands were +clutched at her breast. Her eyes, big and dark and staring, were still +fixed on the window. + +"That man!" she panted. "His face was there--against the glass--like a +devil's!" + +"Quade?" + +"Yes." + +She caught at his arm as he sprang toward the door. + +"Stop!" she cried. "You mustn't go out----" + +For a moment he turned at the door. He was as she had seen him in Quade's +place, terribly cool, a strange, quiet smile on his lips. His eyes were +gray, smiling steel. + +"Close the door after me and lock it until I return," he said. "You are the +first woman guest I ever had, Ladygray. I cannot allow you to be insulted!" + +As he went out she saw him slip something from his pocket. She caught the +glitter of it in the lamp-glow. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade. He ran with the quickness +of a hare around the end of the cabin, past the window, and then stopped to +listen, his automatic in his hand, his eye piercing the gloom for some +moving shadow. He had not counted on an instant's hesitation. He would +shoot Quade, for he knew why the mottled beast had been at the window. +Stevens' boy had been right. Quade was after Joanne. His ugly soul was +disrupted with a desire to possess her, and Aldous knew that when roused by +passion he was more like a devil-fish than a man--a creeping, slimy, +night-seeking creature who had not only the power of the underworld back of +him, but wealth as well. He did not think of him as a man as he stood +listening, but as a beast. He was ready to shoot. But he saw nothing. He +heard no sound that could have been made by a stumbling foot or a moving +body. An hour later, the moon would have been up, but it was dark now +except for the stars. He heard the hoot of an owl a hundred yards away. Out +in the river something splashed. From the timber beyond Buffalo Prairie +came the yapping bark of a coyote. For five minutes he stood as silent as +one of the rocks behind him. He realized that to go on--to seek blindly for +Quade in the darkness, would be folly. He went back, tapped at the door, +and reëntered the cabin when Joanne threw back the lock. + +She was still pale. Her eyes were bright. + +"I was coming--in a moment," she said, "I was beginning to fear that----" + +"--he had struck me down in the dark?" added Aldous, as she hesitated. +"Well, he would like to do just that, Joanne." Unconsciously her name had +slipped from him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to +call her Joanne now. "Is it necessary for me to tell you what this man +Quade is--why he was looking through the window?" + +She shuddered. + +"No--no--I understand!" + +"Only partly," continued Aldous, his face white and set. "It is necessary +that you should know more than you have guessed, for your own protection. +If you were like most other women I would not tell you the truth, but would +try to shield you from it. As it is you should know. There is only one +other man in the Rocky Mountains more dangerous than Bill Quade. He is +Culver Rann, up at Tête Jaune. They are partners--partners in crime, in +sin, in everything that is bad and that brings them gold. Their influence +among the rougher elements along the line of rail is complete. They are so +strongly entrenched that they have put contractors out of business because +they would not submit to blackmail. The few harmless police we have +following the steel have been unable to touch them. They have cleaned up +hundreds of thousands, chiefly in three things--blackmail, whisky, and +women. Quade is the viler of the two. He is like a horrible beast. Culver +Rann makes me think of a sleek and shining serpent. But it is this man +Quade----" + +He found it almost impossible to go on with Joanne's blue eyes gazing so +steadily into his. + +"--whom we have made our enemy," she finished for him. + +"Yes--and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "You +cannot go on to Tête Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If you +do----" + +"What will happen?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I am +going to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on to +Tête Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to which +I can take you, and where you will be safe." + +As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table. + +"I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said. + +He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through the +door. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness of +the spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand. + +"It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like the +shell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?" + +"No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and they +made me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them." + +He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as she +spoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, that +made her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand was +gripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert, +yet she could detect nothing of caution or preparedness in his careless +voice. + +"The bloodstones didn't trouble me," he answered. "I can't remember +anything that upset me more than the snakes. I am a terrible coward when it +comes to anything that crawls without feet. I will run from a snake no +longer than your little finger--in fact, I'm just as scared of a little +grass snake as I am of a python. It's the _thing_, and not its size, that +horrifies me. Once I jumped out of a boat into ten feet of water because my +companion caught an eel on his line, and persisted in the argument that it +was a fish. Thank Heaven we don't have snakes up here. I've seen only three +or four in all my experience in the Northland." + +She laughed softly in spite of the uneasy thrill the night held for her. + +"It is hard for me to imagine you being afraid," she said. "And yet if you +were afraid I know it would be of just some little thing like that. My +father was one of the bravest men in the world, and a hundred times I have +seen him show horror at sight of a spider. If you were afraid of snakes, +why did you go up the Gampola, in Ceylon?" + +"I didn't know the snakes were there," he chuckled. "I hadn't dreamed there +were a half so many snakes in the whole world as there were along that +confounded river. I slept sitting up, dressed in rubber wading boots that +came to my waist, and wore thick leather gloves. I got out of the country +at the earliest possible moment." + +When they entered the edge of the Miette clearing and saw the glow of +lights ahead of them, Aldous caught the sudden upturn of his companion's +face, laughing at him in the starlight. + +"Kind, thoughtful John Aldous!" she whispered, as if to herself. "How nice +of you it was to talk of such pleasant things while we were coming through +that black, dreadful swamp--with a Bill Quade waiting for us on the side!" + +A low ripple of laughter broke from her lips, and he stopped dead in his +tracks, forgetting to put the automatic back in his pocket. At sight of it +the amusement died in her face. She caught his arm, and one of her hands +seized the cold steel of the pistol. + +"Would he--_dare?_" she demanded. + +"You can't tell," replied Aldous, putting the gun in his pocket. "And that +was a creepy sort of conversation to load you down with, wasn't it, +Ladygray? I imagine you'll catch me in all sorts of blunders like that." He +pointed ahead. "There's Mrs. Otto now. She's looking this way and wondering +with all her big heart if you ought not to be at home and in bed." + +The door of the Otto home was wide open, and silhouetted in the flood of +light was the good-natured Scotchwoman. Aldous gave the whistling signal +which she and her menfolk always recognized, and hurried on with Joanne. + +Before they had quite reached the tent-house, Joanne put a detaining hand +on his arm. + +"I don't want you to go back to the cabin to-night," she said. "The face at +the window--was terrible. I am afraid. I don't want you to be there alone." + +Her words sent a warm glow through him. + +"Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Quade will not come back." + +"I don't want you to return to the cabin," she persisted. "Is there no +other place where you can stay?" + +"I might go down and console Stevens, and borrow a couple of his horse +blankets for a bed if that will please you." + +"It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may go +on to Tête Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?" + +"It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'll +promise not to sleep in the cabin to-night." + +Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night, +and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacks +under the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety and +fear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw her +pause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. His +heart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangely +new and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way. + +He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the moment +he had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood was +roused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to find +Quade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himself +that he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficult +for Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business that +could be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job to +lose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white striped +tent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed him +before, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now he +wanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant to +come up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into the +lighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrust +carelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroad +builders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool balls +and the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or four +musical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's place +was going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whom +he knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their manner +toward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certain +they would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign. +For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotch +surveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no mention of him. Purposely he +passed Quade's tent and walked to the end of the street, nodding and +looking closely at those whom he knew. It was becoming more and more +evident to him that Quade and his pals were keeping the affair of the +afternoon as quiet as possible. Stevens had heard of it. He wondered how. + +Aldous retraced his steps. As though nothing had happened, he entered +Quade's place. There were a dozen men inside, and among them he recognized +three who had been there that afternoon. He nodded to them. Slim Barker was +in Quade's place behind the counter. Barker was Quade's right-hand man at +Miette, and there was a glitter in his rat-like eyes as Aldous leaned over +the glass case at one end of the counter and asked for cigars. He fumbled a +bit as he picked out half a dollar's worth from the box. His eyes met +Slim's. + +"Where is Quade?" he asked casually. + +Barker shrugged his shoulders. + +"Busy to-night," he answered shortly. "Want to see him?" + +"No, not particularly. Only--I don't want him to hold a grudge." + +Barker replaced the box in the case and turned away. After lighting a cigar +Aldous went out. He was sure that Quade had not returned from the river. +Was he lying in wait for him near the cabin? The thought sent a sudden +thrill through him. In the same breath it was gone. With half a dozen men +ready to do his work, Aldous knew that Quade would not redden his own hands +or place himself in any conspicuous risk. During the next hour he visited +the places where Quade was most frequently seen. He had made up his mind to +walk over to the engineers' camp, when a small figure darted after him out +of the gloom of the trees. + +It was Stevens' boy. + +"Dad wants to see you down at the camp," he whispered excitedly. "He says +right away--an' for no one to see you. He said not to let any one see me. +I've been waiting for you to come out in the dark." + +"Skip back and tell him I'll come," replied Aldous quickly. "Be sure you +mind what he says--and don't let any one see you!" + +The boy disappeared like a rabbit. Aldous looked back, and ahead, and then +dived into the darkness after him. + +A quarter of an hour later he came out on the river close to Stevens' camp. +A little nearer he saw Stevens squatted close to a smouldering fire about +which he was drying some clothes. The boy was huddled in a disconsolate +heap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretched +himself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind a +clump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right in +using caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer's +face. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than when +Aldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droop +of his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coals +of fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a moment +they stood silent. + +"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got +something to tell you." + +They crouched behind the bush. + +"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit." + +"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens." + +The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and +gripped John Aldous by the arm. + +"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take +offence--because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw +her up at the train. But you _know_. Is she good, or----You know what we +think of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask." + +"She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and as +sweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for." + +"I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her in +your cabin--after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quade +was here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seen +I had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me that +later. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like he +did then. I'll cut it short. He's mad--loon mad--over that girl. I played +the sympathy act, thinkin' of you--an' _her_. He hinted at some easy money. +I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to take +money most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you. +Then it come out. He made me a proposition." + +Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush. + +"Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone." + +Stevens bent so near that his tobacco-laden breath swept his companion's +cheek. + +"He said he'd replace my lost outfit if I'd put you out of the way some +time day after to-morrow!" + +"Kill me?" + +"Yes." + +For a few moments there was a silence broken only by their tense breathing. +Aldous had found the packer's hand. He was gripping it hard. + +"Thank you, old man," he said. "And he believes you will do it?" + +"I told him I would--day after to-morrow--an' throw your body in the +Athabasca." + +"Splendid, Stevens! You've got Sherlock Holmes beat by a mile! And does he +want you to do this pretty job because I gave him a crack on the jaw?" + +"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Stevens quickly. "He knows the girl is a +stranger and alone. You've taken an interest in her. With you out of the +way, she won't be missed. Dammit, man, don't you know his system? And, if +he ever wanted anything in his life he wants her. She's turned that +poison-blood of his into fire. He raved about her here. He'll go the limit. +He'll do anything to get her. He's so crazy I believe he'd give every +dollar he's got. There's just one thing for you to do. Send the girl back +where she come from. Then you get out. As for myself--I'm goin' to +emigrate. Ain't got a dollar now, so I might as well hit for the prairies +an' get a job on a ranch. Next winter I guess me 'n the kid will trap up on +the Parsnip River." + +"You're wrong--clean wrong," said Aldous quietly. "When I saw your outfit +going down among the rocks I had already made up my mind to help you. What +you've told me to-night hasn't made any difference. I would have helped you +anyway, Stevens. I've got more money than I know what to do with right now. +Roper has a thirty-horse outfit for sale. Buy it to-morrow. I'll pay for +it, and you needn't consider yourself a dollar in debt. Some day I'll have +you take me on a long trip, and that will make up for it. As for the girl +and myself--we're going on to Tête Jaune to-morrow." + +Aldous could see the amazed packer staring at him in the gloom. "You don't +think I'm sellin' myself, do you, Aldous?" he asked huskily. "That ain't +why you're doin' this--for me 'n the kid--is it?" + +"I had made up my mind to do it before I saw you to-night," repeated +Aldous. "I've got lots of money, and I don't use but a little of it. It +sometimes accumulates so fast that it bothers me. Besides, I've promised to +accept payment for the outfit in trips. These mountains have got a hold on +me, Stevens. I'm going to take a good many trips before I die." + +"Not if you go on to Tête Jaune, you ain't," replied Stevens, biting a huge +quid from a black plug. + +Aldous had risen to his feet. Stevens stood up beside him. + +"If you go on to Tête Jaune you're a bigger fool than I was in tryin' to +swim the outfit across the river to-day," he added. "Listen!" He leaned +toward Aldous, his eyes gleaming. "In the last six months there's been +forty dead men dragged out of the Frazer between Tête Jaune an' Fort +George. You know that. The papers have called 'em accidents--the 'toll of +railroad building.' Mebby a part of it is. Mebby a half of them forty died +by accident. The other half didn't. They were sent down by Culver Rann and +Bill Quade. Once you go floatin' down the Frazer there ain't no questions +asked. Somebody sees you an' pulls you out--mebby a Breed or an Indian--an' +puts you under a little sand a bit later. If it's a white man he does +likewise. There ain't no time to investigate floaters over-particular in +the wilderness. Besides, you git so beat up in the rocks you don't look +like much of anything. I know, because I worked on the scows three months, +an' helped bury four of 'em. An' there wasn't anything, not even a scrap of +paper, in the pockets of two of 'em! Is that suspicious, or ain't it? It +don't pay to talk too much along the Frazer. Men keep their mouths shut. +But I'll tell you this: Culver Rann an' Bill Quade know a lot." + +"And you think I'll go in the Frazer?" + +"Egzactly. Quade would rather have you in there than in the Athabasca. And +then----" + +"Well?" + +Stevens spat into the bush, and shrugged his shoulders. "This beautiful +lady you've taken an interest in will turn up missing, Aldous. She'll +disappear off the face of the map--just like Stimson's wife did. You +remember Stimson?" + +"He was found in the Frazer," said Aldous, gripping the other's arm in the +darkness. + +"Egzactly. An' that pretty wife of his disappeared a little later. Up there +everybody's too busy to ask where other people go. Culver Rann an' Bill +Quade know what happened to Stimson, an' they know what happened to +Stimson's wife. You don't want to go to Tête Jaune. You don't want to let +_her_ go. I know what I'm talking about. Because----" + +There fell a moment's silence. Aldous waited. Stevens spat again, and +finished in a whisper: + +"Quade went to Tête Jaune to-night. He went on a hand-car. He's got +something he wants to tell Culver Rann that he don't dare telephone or +telegraph. An' he wants to get that something to him ahead of to-morrow's +train. Understand?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +John Aldous confessed to himself that he did not quite understand, in spite +of the effort Stevens had made to impress upon him, the importance of not +going to Tête Jaune. He was bewildered over a number of things, and felt +that he needed to be alone for a time to clear his mind. He left Stevens, +promising to return later to share a couple of blankets and a part of his +tepee, for he was determined to keep his promise to Joanne, and not return +to his own cabin, even though Quade had left Miette. He followed a moonlit +trail along the river to an abandoned surveyors' camp, knowing that he +would meet no one, and that in this direction he would have plenty of +unbroken quiet in which to get some sort of order out of the chaotic tangle +of events through which he had passed that day. + +Aldous had employed a certain amount of caution, but until he had talked +with Stevens he had not believed that Quade, in his twofold desire to +avenge himself and possess Joanne, would go to the extraordinary ends +predicted by the packer. His point of view was now entirely changed. He +believed Stevens. He knew the man was not excitable. He was one of the +coolest heads in the mountains. And he had abundant nerve. Thought of +Stimson and Stimson's wife had sent the hot blood through Aldous like fire. +Was Stevens right in that detail? And was Quade actually planning the same +end for him and Joanne? Why had Quade stolen on ahead to Tête Jaune? Why +had he not waited for to-morrow's train? + +He found himself walking swiftly along the road, where he had intended to +walk slowly--a hundred questions pounding through his brain. Suddenly a +thought came to him that stopped him in the trail, his unseeing eyes +staring down into the dark chasm of the river. After all, was it so strange +that Quade would do these things? Into his own life Joanne had come like a +wonderful dream-creature transformed into flesh and blood. He no longer +tried to evade the fact that he could not think without thinking of Joanne. +She had become a part of him. She had made him forget everything but her, +and in a few hours had sent into the dust of ruin his cynicism and +aloneness of a lifetime. If Joanne had come to him like this, making him +forget his work, filling him more and more with the thrilling desire to +fight for her, was it so very strange that a beast like Quade would +fight--in another way? + +He went on down the trail, his hands clenched tightly. After all, it was +not fear of Quade or of what he might attempt that filled him with +uneasiness. It was Joanne herself, her strange quest, its final outcome. +With the thought that she was seeking for the man who was her husband, a +leaden hand seemed gripping at his heart. He tried to shake it off, but it +was like a sickness. To believe that she had been the wife of another man +or that she could ever belong to any other man than himself seemed like +shutting his eyes forever to the sun. And yet she had told him. She had +belonged to another man; she might belong to him even now. She had come to +find if he was alive--or dead. + +And if alive? Aldous stopped again, and looked down into the dark pit +through which the river was rushing a hundred feet below him. It tore in +frothing maelstroms through a thousand rocks, filling the night with a low +thunder. To John Aldous the sound of it might have been a thousand miles +away. He did not hear. His eye saw nothing in the blackness. For a few +moments the question he had asked himself obliterated everything. If they +found Joanne's husband alive at Tête Jaune--what then? He turned back, +retracing his steps over the trail, a feeling of resentment--of hatred for +the man he had never seen--slowly taking the place of the oppressive thing +that had turned his heart sick within him. Then, in a flash, came the +memory of Joanne's words--words in which, white-faced and trembling, she +had confessed that her anxiety was not that she would find him dead, but +that _she would find him alive_. A joyous thrill shot through him as he +remembered that. Whoever this man was, whatever he might have been to her +once, or was to her now, Joanne did not want to find him alive! He laughed +softly to himself as he quickened his pace. The tense grip of his fingers +loosened. The grim, almost ghastly part of it did not occur to him--the +fact that deep in his soul he was wishing a man dead and in his grave. + +He did not return at once to the scenes about Quade's place, but went to +the station, three quarters of a mile farther up the track. Here, in a +casual way, he learned from the little pink-faced Cockney Englishman who +watched the office at night that Stevens had been correct in his +information. Quade had gone to Tête Jaune. Although it was eleven o'clock, +Aldous proceeded in the direction of the engineers' camp, still another +quarter of a mile deeper in the bush. He was restless. He did not feel that +he could sleep that night. The engineers' camp he expected to find in +darkness, and he was surprised when he saw a light burning brightly in +Keller's cabin. + +Keller was the assistant divisional engineer, and they had become good +friends. It was Keller who had set the first surveyor's line at Tête Jaune, +and it was he who had reported it as the strategic point from which to push +forward the fight against mountain and wilderness, both by river and rail. +He was, in a way, accountable for the existence of Tête Jaune just where it +did exist, and he knew more about it than any other man in the employ of +the Grand Trunk Pacific. For this reason Aldous was glad that Keller had +not gone to bed. He knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an +invitation. + +The engineer stood in the middle of the floor, his coat off, his fat, +stubby hands thrust into the pockets of his baggy trousers, his red face +and bald cranium shining in the lamplight. A strange fury blazed in his +eyes as he greeted his visitor. He began pacing back and forth across the +room, puffing volumes of smoke from a huge bowled German pipe as he +motioned Aldous to a chair. + +"What's the matter, Peter?" + +"Enough--an' be damned!" growled Peter. "If it wasn't enough do you think +I'd be out of bed at this hour of the night?" + +"I'm sure it's enough," agreed Aldous. "If it wasn't you'd be in your +little trundle over there, sleeping like a baby. I don't know of any one +who can sleep quite as sweetly as you, Peter. But what the devil _is_ the +trouble?" + +"Something that you can't make me feel funny over. You haven't heard--about +the bear?" + +"Not a word, Peter." + +Keller took his hands from his pockets and the big, bowled pipe from his +mouth. + +"You know what I did with that bear," he said. "More than a year ago I made +friends with her up there on the hill instead of killing her. Last summer I +got her so she'd eat out of my hands. I fed her a barrel of sugar between +July and November. We used to chum it an hour at a time, and I'd pet her +like a dog. Why, damn it, man, I thought more of that bear than I did of +any human in these regions! And she got so fond of me she didn't leave to +den up until January. This spring she came out with two cubs, an' as soon +as they could waddle she brought 'em out there on the hillside an' waited +for me. We were better chums than ever. I've got another half barrel of +sugar--lump sugar--on the way from Edmonton. An' now what do you think that +damned C.N.R. gang has done?" + +"They haven't shot her?" + +"No, they haven't shot her. I wish to God they had! They've _blown her +up!_" + +The little engineer subsided into a chair. + +"Do you hear?" he demanded. "They've blown her up! Put a stick of dynamite +under some sugar, attached a battery wire to it, an' when she was licking +up the sugar touched it off. An' I can't do anything, damn 'em! Bears ain't +protected. The government of this province calls 'em 'pests.' Murder 'em +on sight, it says. An' those fiends over there think it's a good joke on +me--an' the bear!" + +Keller was sweating. His fat hands were clenched, and his round, plump body +fairly shook with excitement and anger. + +"When I went over to-night they laughed at me--the whole bunch," he went on +thickly. "I offered to lick every man in the outfit from A to Z, an' I +ain't had a fight in twenty years. Instead of fighting like men, a dozen of +them grabbed hold of me, chucked me into a blanket, an' bounced me for +fifteen minutes straight! What do you think of _that_, Aldous? +Me--assistant divisional engineer of the G.T.P.--_bounced in a blanket_!" + +Peter Keller hopped from his chair and began pacing back and forth across +the room again, sucking truculently on his pipe. + +"If they were on our road I'd--I'd chase every man of them out of the +country. But they're not. They belong to the C.N.R. They're out of my +reach." He stopped, suddenly, in front of Aldous. "What can I do?" he +demanded. + +"Nothing," said Aldous. "You've had something like this coming to you, +Peter. I've been expecting it. All the camps for twenty miles up and down +the line know what you thought of that bear. You fired Tibbits because, as +you said, he was too thick with Quade. You told him that right before +Quade's face. Tibbits is now foreman of that grading gang over there. Two +and two make four, you know. Tibbits--Quade--the blown-up bear. Quade +doesn't miss an opportunity, no matter how small it is. Tibbits and Quade +did this to get even with you. You might report the blanket affair to the +contractors of the other road. I don't believe they would stand for it." + +Aldous had guessed correctly what the effect of associating Quade's name +with the affair would be. Keller was one of Quade's deadliest enemies. He +sat down close to Aldous again. His eyes burned deep back. It was not +Keller's physique, but his brain, and the fearlessness of his spirit, that +made him dangerous. + +"I guess you're right, Aldous," he said. "Some day--I'll even up on Quade." + +"And so shall I, Peter." + +The engineer stared into the other's eyes. + +"You----" + +Aldous nodded. + +"Quade left for Tête Jaune to-night, on a hand-car. I follow him to-morrow, +on the train. I can't tell you what's up, Peter, but I don't think it will +stop this side of death for Quade and Culver Rann--or me. I mean that quite +literally. I don't see how more than one side can come out alive. I want to +ask you a few questions before I go on to Tête Jaune. You know every +mountain and trail about the place, don't you?" + +"I've tramped them all, afoot and horseback." + +"Then perhaps you can direct me to what I must find--a man's grave." + +Peter Keller paused in the act of relighting his pipe. For a moment he +stared in amazement. + +"There are a great many graves up at Tête Jaune," he said, at last. "A +great many graves--and many of them unmarked. If it's a _Quade_ grave +you're looking for, Aldous, it will be unmarked." + +"I am quite sure that it is marked--or _was_ at one time," said Aldous. +"It's the grave of a man who had quite an unusual name, Peter, and you +might remember it--Mortimer FitzHugh." + +"FitzHugh--FitzHugh," repeated Keller, puffing out fresh volumes of smoke. +"Mortimer FitzHugh----" + +"He died, I believe, before there was a Tête Jaune, or at least before the +steel reached there," added Aldous. "He was on a hunting trip, and I have +reason to think that his death was a violent one." + +Keller rose and fell into his old habit of pacing back and forth across the +room, a habit that had worn a path in the bare pine boards of the floor. + +"There's graves an' graves up there, but not so many that were there before +Tête Jaune came," he began, between puffs. "Up on the side of White Knob +Mountain there's the grave of a man who was torn to bits by a grizzly. But +his name was Humphrey. Old Yellowhead John--Tête Jaune, they called +him--died years before that, and no one knows where his grave is. We had +five men die before the steel came, but there wasn't a FitzHugh among 'em. +Crabby--old Crabby Tompkins, a trapper, is buried in the sand on the +Frazer. The last flood swept his slab away. There's two unmarked graves in +Glacier Canyon, but I guess they're ten years old if a day. Burns was shot. +I knew him. Plenty died after the steel came, but before that----" + +Suddenly he stopped. He faced Aldous. His breath came in quick jerks. + +"By Heaven, I do remember!" he cried. "There's a mountain in the Saw Tooth +Range, twelve miles from Tête Jaune--a mountain with the prettiest basin +you ever saw at the foot of it, with a lake no bigger than this camp, and +an old cabin which Yellowhead himself must have built fifty years ago. +There's a blind canyon runs out of it, short an' dark, on the right. We +found a grave there. I don't remember the first name on the slab. Mebby it +was washed out. But, so 'elp me God, _the last name was FitzHugh_!" + +With a sudden cry, Aldous jumped to his feet and caught Keller's arm. + +"You're sure of it, Peter?" + +"Positive!" + +It was impossible for Aldous to repress his excitement. The engineer stared +at him even harder than before. + +"What can that grave have to do with Quade?" he asked. "The man died before +Quade was known in these regions." + +"I can't tell you now, Peter," replied Aldous, pulling the engineer to the +table. "But I think you'll know quite soon. For the present, I want you to +sketch out a map that will take me to the grave. Will you?" + +On the table were pencil and paper. Keller seated himself and drew them +toward him. + +"I'm damned if I can see what that grave can have to do with Quade," he +said; "but I'll tell you how to find it!" + +For several minutes they bent low over the table, Peter Keller describing +the trail to the Saw Tooth Mountain as he sketched it, step by step, on a +sheet of office paper. When it was done, Aldous folded it carefully and +placed it in his wallet. + +"I can't go wrong, and--thank you, Keller!" + +After Aldous had gone, Peter Keller sat for some time in deep thought. + +"Now I wonder what the devil there can be about a grave to make him so +happy," he grumbled, listening to the whistle that was growing fainter down +the trail. + +And Aldous, alone, with the moon straight above him as he went back to the +Miette Plain, felt, in truth, this night had become brighter for him than +any day he had ever known. For he knew that Peter Keller was not a man to +make a statement of which he was not sure. Mortimer FitzHugh was dead. His +bones lay under the slab up in that little blind canyon in the shadow of +the Saw Tooth Mountain. To-morrow he would tell Joanne. And, blindly, he +told himself that she would be glad. + +Still whistling, he passed the Chinese laundry shack on the creek, crossed +the railroad tracks, and buried himself in the bush beyond. A quarter of an +hour later he stole quietly into Stevens' camp and went to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Stevens, dreaming of twenty horses plunging to death among the rocks in the +river, slept uneasily. He awoke before it was dawn, but when he dragged +himself from his tepee, moving quietly not to awaken his boy, he found John +Aldous on his knees before a small fire, slicing thin rashers of bacon into +a frying-pan. The weight of his loss was in the tired packer's eyes and +face and the listless droop of his shoulders. John Aldous, with three hours +between the blankets to his credit, was as cheery as the crackling fire +itself. He had wanted to whistle for the last half-hour. Seeing Stevens, he +began now. + +"I wasn't going to rouse you until breakfast was ready," he interrupted +himself to say. "I heard you groaning, Stevens. I know you had a bad night. +And the kid, too. He couldn't sleep. But I made up my mind you'd have to +get up early. I've got a lot of business on to-day, and we'll have to rouse +Curly Roper out of bed to buy his pack outfit. Find the coffee, will you? I +couldn't." + +For a moment Stevens stood over him. + +"See here, Aldous, you didn't mean what you said last night, did you? You +didn't mean--that?" + +"Confound it, yes! Can't you understand plain English, Stevens? Don't you +believe a man when he's a gentleman? Buy that outfit! Why, I'd buy twenty +outfits to-day, I'm--I'm feeling so fine, Stevens!" + +For the first time in forty-eight hours Stevens smiled. + +"I was wondering if I hadn't been dreaming," he said. "Once, a long time +ago, I guess I felt just like you do now." + +With which cryptic remark he went for the coffee. + +Aldous looked up in time to see the boy stagger sleepily out of the tepee. +There was something pathetic about the motherlessness of the picture, and +he understood a little of what Stevens had meant. + +An hour later, with breakfast over, they started for Curly's. Curly was +pulling on his boots when they arrived, while his wife was frying the +inevitable bacon in the kitchen. + +"I hear you have some horses for sale, Curly," said Aldous. + +"Hi 'ave." + +"How many?" + +"Twenty-nine, 'r twenty-eight--mebby twenty-seven." + +"How much?" + +Curly looked up from the task of pulling on his second boot. + +"H'are you buying 'orses or looking for hinformation?" he asked. + +"I'm buying, and I'm in a hurry. How much do you want a head?" + +"Sixty, 'r six----" + +"I'll give you sixty dollars apiece for twenty-eight head, and that's just +ten dollars apiece more than they're worth," broke in Aldous, pulling a +check-book and a fountain pen from his pocket. "Is it a go?" + +A little stupefied by the suddenness of it all, Curly opened his mouth and +stared. + +"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles, +ropes, and canvases?" + +Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detect +anything that looked like a joke. + +"Hit's a go," he said. + +Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars. + +"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, but +they're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only with +your agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will you +agree to that?" + +Curly was joyously looking at the check. + +"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I give +you the word of a Hinglish gentleman!" + +Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leaving +Stevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody called +Curly, because he had no hair. + +Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired into +the condition that was holding back the Tête Jaune train. He found that a +slide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. A +hundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they would +finish by noon. A gang boss, who had come back with telegraphic reports, +said that half a dozen men had carried Quade's hand-car over the +obstruction about midnight. + +It was seven o'clock when Aldous left for the Miette bottom. He believed +that Joanne would be up. At this season of the year the first glow of day +usually found the Ottos at breakfast, and for half an hour the sun had been +shining on the top of Pyramid Mountain. He was eager to tell her what had +passed between him and Keller. He laughed softly when he confessed to +himself how madly he wanted to see her. + +He always liked to come up to the Otto home very early of a morning, or in +the dusk of evening. Very frequently he was filled with a desire to stand +outside the red-and-white striped walls of the tent-house and listen +unseen. Inside there was always cheer: at night the crackle of fire and the +glow of light, the happy laughter of the gentle-hearted Scotchwoman, and +the affectionate banter of her "big mountain man," who looked more like a +brigand than the luckiest and most contented husband in the mountains--the +luckiest, quite surely, with the one exception of his brother Clossen, who +had, by some occult strategy or other, induced a sweet-faced and +aristocratic little woman to look upon his own honest physiognomy as the +handsomest and finest in the world. This morning Aldous followed a narrow +path that brought him behind the tent-house. He heard no voices. A few +steps more and he emerged upon a scene that stopped him and set his heart +thumping. + +Less than a dozen paces away stood Mrs. Otto and Joanne, their backs toward +him. They were gazing silently and anxiously in the direction of the thick, +low bush across the clearing, through which led the trail to his cabin. He +did not look toward the bush. His eyes were upon Joanne. Her slender figure +was full in the golden radiance of the morning sun, and Aldous felt himself +under the spell of a joyous wonder as he looked at her. For the first time +he saw her hair as he had pictured it--as he had given it to that other +_Joanne_ in the book he had called "Fair Play." She had been brushing it in +the sun when he came, but now she stood poised in that tense and waiting +attitude--silent--gazing in the direction of the bush, with that marvellous +mantle sweeping about her in a shimmering silken flood. He would not have +moved, nor would he have spoken, until Joanne herself broke the spell. She +turned, and saw him. With a little cry of surprise she flung back her hair. +He could not fail to see the swift look of relief and gladness that had +come into her eyes. In another instant her face was flushing crimson. + +"I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper," he apologized. "I +thought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto." + +The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. + +"Goodness gracious, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed thankfully. +"Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your dead +body!" + +"We thought perhaps something might have happened," said Joanne, who had +moved nearer the door. "You will excuse me, won't you, while I finish my +hair?" + +Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent. No sooner had she +disappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto's face. There was a +note of alarm in her low voice as she whispered: + +"Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me. She +tried to be quiet, but I know she didn't sleep much. And she cried. I +couldn't hear her, but the pillow was wet. Once my hand touched her cheek, +and it was wet. I didn't ask any questions. This morning, at breakfast, she +told us everything that happened, all about Quade--and your trouble. She +told us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervous +thinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dear +couldn't even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt for +you. But I don't think that was why she cried!" + +"I wish it had been," said Aldous. "It makes me happy to think she was +worried about--me." + +"Good Lord!" gasped Mrs. Otto. + +He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding in +her kind eyes. + +"You will keep my little secret, won't you, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "Probably +you'll think it's queer. I've only known her a day. But I feel--like that. +Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or a +sister. I want you to understand why I'm going on to Tête Jaune with her. +That is why she was crying--because of the dread of something up there. I'm +going with her. She shouldn't go alone." + +Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Otto +had come out of the bush and were quite near. Aldous was sorry that Joanne +had spoken of his trouble with Quade. He did not want to discuss the +situation, or waste time in listening to further advice. He was anxious to +be alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from Peter +Keller. For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness. The brothers then +went on to their corral. A few minutes later Joanne was once more at his +side, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin on +the river. + +He could see that the night had made a change in her. There were circles +under her eyes which were not there yesterday. When she looked at him their +velvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was struggling +desperately to keep from him. It was not altogether fear. It was more a +betrayal of pain--a torment of the soul and not of the body. He noticed +that in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangely +pale. The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him was +gone. + +Then he began to tell her of his visit to Peter Keller. His own heart was +beating violently when he came to speak of the grave and the slab over it +that bore the name of FitzHugh. He had expected that what he had discovered +from Keller would create some sort of a sensation. He had even come up to +the final fact gradually, so that it would not appear bald and shocking. +Joanne's attitude stunned him. She looked straight ahead. When she turned +to him he did not see in her eyes what he had expected to see. They were +quiet, emotionless, except for that shadow of inward torture which did not +leave them. + +"Then to-morrow we can go to the grave?" she asked simply. + +Her voice, too, was quiet and without emotion. + +He nodded. "We can leave at sunrise," he said. "I have my own horses at +Tête Jaune and there need be no delay. We were to start into the North from +there." + +"You mean on the adventure you were telling me about?" + +She had looked at him quickly. + +"Yes. Old Donald, my partner, has been waiting for me a week. That's why I +was so deuced anxious to rush the book to an end. I'm behind Donald's +schedule, and he's growing nervous. It's rather an unusual enterprise +that's taking us north this time, and Donald can't understand why I should +hang back to write the tail end of a book. He has lived sixty years in the +mountains. His full name is Donald MacDonald. Sometimes, back in my own +mind, I've called him History. He seems like that--as though he'd lived for +ages in these mountains instead of sixty years. If I could only write what +he has lived--even what one might imagine that he has lived! But I cannot. +I have tried three times, and have failed. I think of him as The Last +Spirit--a strange wandering ghost of the mighty ranges. His kind passed +away a hundred years ago. You will understand--when you see him." + +She put her hand on his arm and let it rest there lightly as they walked. +Into her eyes had returned some of the old warm glow of yesterday. + +"I want you to tell me about this adventure," she entreated softly. "I +understand--about the other. You have been good--oh! so good to me! And I +should tell you things; you are expecting me to explain. It is only fair +and honest that I should. I know what is in your mind, and I only want you +to wait--until to-morrow. Will you? And I will tell you then, when we have +found the grave." + +Involuntarily his hand sought Joanne's. For a single moment he felt the +warm, sweet thrill of it in his own as he pressed it more closely to his +arm. Then he freed it, looking straight ahead. A soft flush grew in +Joanne's cheeks. + +"Do you care a great deal for riches?" he asked. "Does the golden pot at +the end of the rainbow hold out a lure for you?" He did not realize the +strangeness of his question until their eyes met. "Because if you don't," +he added, smiling, "this adventure of ours isn't going to look very +exciting to you." + +She laughed softly. + +"No, I don't care for riches," she replied. "I am quite sure that just as +great education proves to one how little one knows, so great wealth brings +one face to face with the truth of how little one can enjoy. My father used +to say that the golden treasure at the end of the rainbow in every human +life was happiness, and that is something which you cannot buy. So why +crave riches, then? But please don't let my foolish ideas disappoint you. +I'll promise to be properly excited." + +She saw his face suddenly aflame with enthusiasm. + +"By George, but you're a--a brick, Joanne!" he exclaimed. "You are! And +I--I----" He was fumbling in his breast pocket. He brought out his wallet +and extracted from it the bit of paper Stevens had given him. "You dropped +that, and Stevens found it," he explained, giving it to her. "I thought +those figures might represent your fortune--or your income. Don't mind +telling you I went over 'em carefully. There's a mistake in the third +column. Five and four don't make seven. They make nine. In the final, when +you come to the multiplication part of it, that correction will make you +just thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars richer." + +"Thanks," said Joanne, lowering her eyes, and beginning to tear the paper +into small pieces. "And will it disappoint you, Mr. John Aldous, if I tell +you that all these figures stand for riches which some one else possesses? +And won't you let me remind you that we're getting a long way from what I +want to know--about your trip into the North?" + +"That's just it: we're hot on the trail," chuckled Aldous, deliberately +placing her hand on his arm again. "You don't care for riches. Neither do +I. I'm delighted to know we're going tandem in that respect. I've never had +any fun with money. It's the money that's had fun with me. I've no use for +yachts and diamonds and I'd rather travel afoot with a gun over my shoulder +than in a private car. Half the time I'm doing my own cooking, and I +haven't worn a white shirt in a year. My publishers persist in shoving more +money my way than I know what to do with. + +"You see, I pay only ten cents a plug for my smoking tobacco, and other +things accordingly. Somebody has said something about the good Lord sitting +up in Heaven and laughing at the jokes He plays on men. Well, I'm sitting +back and laughing now and then at the tussle between men and money over all +creation. There's a whole lot of humour in the way men and women fight and +die for money, if you only take time to stand out on the side and look on. +There's nothing big or dramatic about it. I may be a heathen, but to my +mind the funniest of all things is to see the world wringing its neck for a +dollar. And Donald--old History--needs even less money than I. So that puts +the big element of humour in this expedition of ours. We don't want money, +particularly. Donald wouldn't wear more than four pairs of boots a year if +he was a billionaire. And yet----" + +He turned to Joanne. The pressure of her hand was warmer on his arm. Her +beautiful eyes were glowing, and her red lips parted as she waited +breathlessly for him to go on. + +"And yet, we're going to a place where you can scoop gold up with a +shovel," he finished. "That's the funny part of it." + +"It isn't funny--it's tremendous!" gasped Joanne. "Think of what a man like +you could do with unlimited wealth, the good you might achieve, the +splendid endowments you might make----" + +"I have already made several endowments," interrupted Aldous. "I believe +that I have made a great many people happy, Ladygray--a great many. I am +gifted to make endowments, I think, above most people. Not one of the +endowments I have made has failed of complete success." + +"And may I ask what some of them were?" + +"I can't remember them all. There have been a great, great many. Most +conspicuous among them were three endowments which I made to some very +worthy people at various times for seven salted mines. I suppose you know +what a salted mine is, Ladygray? At other times I have endowed railroad +stocks which were very much in need of my helping mite, two copper +companies, a concern that was supposed to hoist up pure asbestos from the +stomach of Popocatapetl, and a steamship company that never steamed. As I +said before, they were all very successful endowments." + +"And how many of the other kind have you made?" she asked gently, looking +down the trail. "Like--Stevens', for instance?" + +He turned to her sharply. + +"What the deuce----" + +"Did you succeed in getting the new outfit from Mr. Curly?" she asked. + +"Yes. How did you know?" + +She smiled at the amazement which had gathered in his face. A glad, soft +light shone in her eyes. + +"I guess Mrs. Otto has been like a mother to that poor little boy," she +explained. "When you and Mr. Stevens went up to buy the outfit this morning +Jimmy ran over to tell her the news. We were all there--at breakfast. He +was so excited he could scarcely breathe. But it all came out, and he ran +back to camp before you came because he thought you wouldn't want me to +know. Wasn't that funny? He told me so when I walked a little way up the +path with him." + +"The little reprobate!" chuckled Aldous. "He's the best publicity man I +ever had, Ladygray. I did want you to know about this, and I wanted it to +come to you in just this way, so that I wouldn't be compelled to tell you +myself of the big and noble act I have done. It was my hope and desire that +you, through some one else, would learn of it, and come to understand more +fully what a generous and splendid biped I am. I even plotted to give this +child of Stevens' a silver dollar if he would get the news to you in some +one of his innocent ways. He's done it. And he couldn't have done it +better--even for a dollar. Ah, here we are at the cabin. Will you excuse +me while I pick up a few things that I want to take on to Tête Jaune with +me?" + +Between two trees close to the cabin he had built a seat, and here he left +Joanne. He was gone scarcely five minutes when he reappeared with a small +pack-sack over his shoulders, locked the door, and rejoined her. + +"You see it isn't much of a task for me to move," he said, as they turned +back in the direction of the Ottos'. "I'll wash the dishes when I come back +next October." + +"Five months!" gasped Joanne, counting on her fingers. "John Aldous, do you +mean----" + +"I do," he nodded emphatically. "I frequently leave dishes unwashed for +quite a spell at a time. That's the one unpleasant thing about this sort of +life--washing dishes. It's not so bad in the rainy season, but it's fierce +during a dry spell. When it rains I put the dishes out on a flat rock, +dirty side up, and the good Lord does the scrubbing." + +He looked at Joanne, face and eyes aglow with the happiness that was +sweeping in a mighty tumult within him. Half an hour had worked a +transformation in Joanne. There was no longer a trace of anguish or of fear +in her eyes. Their purity and limpid beauty made him think of the rock +violets that grew high up on the mountains. Her lips and cheeks were +flushed, and the soft pressure of her hand again resting on his arm filled +him with the exquisite thrill of possession and joy. He did not speak of +Tête Jaune again until they reached the Otto tent-house, and then only to +assure her that he would call for her half an hour before the train was +ready to leave. + +As soon as possible after that he went to the telegraph office and sent a +long message to MacDonald. Among other things he told him to prepare their +cabin for a lady guest. He knew this would shock the old mountain wanderer, +but he also knew that Donald would follow his instructions in spite of +whatever alarm he might have. There were other women at Tête Jaune, the +wives of men he knew, to whom he might have taken Joanne. Under the +conditions, however, he believed his own cabin would be her best refuge, at +least for a day or so. In that time he could take some one into his +confidence, probably Blackton and his wife. In fact, as he thought the +circumstances over, he saw the necessity of confiding in the Blacktons that +very night. + +He left the station, growing a bit nervous. Was it right for him to take +Joanne to his cabin at all? He had a tremendous desire to do so, chiefly on +account of Quade. The cabin was a quarter of a mile in the bush, and he was +positive if Joanne was there that Quade, and perhaps Culver Rann, would +come nosing about. This would give him the opportunity of putting into +execution a plan which he had already arranged for himself and old +MacDonald. On the other hand, was this arrangement fair to Joanne, even +though it gave him the chance to square up accounts with Quade? + +He stopped abruptly, and faced the station. All at once there swept upon +him a realization of how blind he had been, and what a fool he had almost +made of himself. Blackton was one of the contractors who were working +miracles in the mountains. He was a friend who would fight for him if +necessary. Mrs. Blackton, who preferred to be on the firing line with her +husband than in her luxurious city home, was the leader of all that was +decent and womanly in Tête Jaune. Why not have these friends meet them at +the train and take Joanne direct to their house? Such recognition and +friendship would mean everything to Joanne. To take her to his cabin would +mean---- + +Inwardly he swore at himself as he hurried back to the station, and his +face burned hotly as he thought of the chance such a blunder on his part +would have given Quade and Culver Rann to circulate the stories with which +they largely played their scoundrelly game. He sent another and longer +telegram. This time it was to Blackton. + +He ate dinner with Stevens, who had his new outfit ready for the mountains. +It was two o'clock before he brought Joanne up to the station. She was +dressed now as he had first seen her when she entered Quade's place. A veil +covered her face. Through the gray film of it he caught the soft warm glow +of her eyes and the shimmer of gold-brown tendrils of her hair. And he knew +why she wore that veil. It set his heart beating swiftly--the fact that she +was trying to hide from all eyes but his own a beauty so pure and wonderful +that it made her uncomfortable when under the staring gaze of the Horde. + +The hand that rested on his arm he pressed closer to his side as they +walked up the station platform, and under his breath he laughed softly and +joyously as he felt the thrill of it. He spoke no word. Not until they were +in their seat in the coach did Joanne look at him after that pressure of +her hand, and then she did not speak. But in the veiled glow of her eyes +there was something that told him she understood--a light that was +wonderfully gentle and sweet. And yet, without words, she asked him to +keep within his soul the things that were pounding madly there for speech. + +As the train rolled on and the babble of voices about them joined the +crunching rumble of the wheels, he wanted to lean close to her and tell her +how a few hours had changed the world for him. And then, for a moment, her +eyes turned to him again, and he knew that it would be a sacrilege to give +voice to the things he wanted to say. For many minutes he was silent, +gazing with her upon the wild panorama of mountain beauty as it drifted +past the car window. A loud voice two seats ahead of them proclaimed that +they were about to make Templeton's Curve. The man was talking to his +companion. + +"They shot up a hundred thousand pounds of black powder an' dynamite to +make way for two hundred feet of steel on that curve," he explained in a +voice heard all over the car. "They say you could hear the explosion fifty +miles away. Jack Templeton was near-sighted, an' he didn't see a rock +coming down on him that was half as big as a house. I helped scrape up what +was left of 'im an' we planted him at this end of the curve. It's been +Templeton's Curve ever since. You'll see his grave--with a slab over it!" + +It was there almost as he spoke, marked by a white-painted cross in a +circle of whitewashed stones. John Aldous felt a sudden shiver pass through +his companion. She turned from the window. Through her veil he saw her lips +tighten. Until he left the car half an hour later the man in the second +seat ahead talked of Templeton's grave and a dozen other graves along the +right of way. He was a rock-hog, and a specialist on the subject of +graves. Inwardly Aldous cursed him roundly. He cursed him all the way to +Tête Jaune, for to him he attributed the change which had again come over +Joanne. + +This change she could only partly conceal from him under her veil. She +asked him many questions about Tête Jaune and the Blacktons, and tried to +take an interest in the scenery they were passing. In spite of this he +could see that she was becoming more and more nervous as they progressed +toward the end of their journey. He felt the slow dampening of his own joy, +the deadening clutch of yesterday at his heart. Twice she lifted her veil +for a moment and he saw she was pale and the tense lines had gathered about +her mouth again. There was something almost haggard in her look the second +time. + +In the early dusk of evening they arrived at Tête Jaune. Aldous waited +until the car had emptied itself before he rose from his seat. Joanne's +hand clutched at his arm as they walked down the aisle. He felt the fierce +pressure of her fingers in his flesh. On the car platform they paused for a +moment, and he felt her throbbing beside him. She had taken her hand from +his arm, and he turned suddenly. She had raised her veil. Her face was dead +white. And she was staring out over the sea of faces under them in a +strange questing way, and her breath came from between her slightly parted +lips as if she had been running. Amazed for the moment, John Aldous did not +move. Somewhere in that crowd _Joanne expected to find a face she knew!_ +The truth struck him dumb--made him inert and lifeless. He, too, stared as +if in a trance. And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazed +into fierce life. + +In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces of +all were turned toward them. One he recognized--a bloated, leering face +grinning devilishly at them. It was Quade! + +A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too, +had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for. It was not his +face that she had expected to see nor because of him that she had lifted +her veil for the mob! + +He stepped down from the car and gave her his hand. Her fingers clutched +his convulsively. And they were cold as the fingers of the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A moment later some one came surging through the crowd, and called Aldous +by name. It was Blackton. His thin, genial face with its little spiked +moustache rose above the sea of heads about him, and as he came he grinned +a welcome. + +"A beastly mob!" he exclaimed, as he gripped his friend's hand. "I'm sorry +I couldn't bring my wife nearer than the back platform." + +Aldous turned to Joanne. He was still half in a daze. His heart was choking +him with its swift and excited beating. Even as he introduced her to +Blackton the voice kept crying in his brain that she had expected to find +some one in this crowd whom she knew. For a space it was as if the Joanne +whom he had known had slipped away from him. She had told him about the +grave, but this other she had kept from him. Something that was almost +anger surged up in him. His face bore marks of the strain as he watched her +greet Blackton. In an instant, it seemed to him, she had regained a part of +her composure. Blackton saw nothing but the haggard lines about her eyes +and the deep pallor in her face, which he ascribed to fatigue. + +"You're tired, Miss Gray," he said. "It's a killing ride up from Miette +these days. If we can get through this mob we'll have supper within fifteen +minutes!" + +With a word to Aldous he began worming his long, lean body ahead of them. +An instant Joanne's face was very close to Aldous', so close that he felt +her breath, and a tendril of her hair touched his lips. In that instant her +eyes looked into his steadily, and he felt rush over him a sudden shame. If +she was seeking and expecting, it was to him more than ever that she was +now looking for protection. The haunting trouble in her eyes, their +entreaty, their shining faith in him told him that, and he was glad that +she had not seen his sudden fear and suspicion. She clung more closely to +him as they followed Blackton. Her little fingers held his arm as if she +were afraid some force might tear him from her. He saw that she was looking +quickly at the faces about them with that same questing mystery in her +search. + +At the thin outer edge of the crowd Blackton dropped back beside them. A +few steps more and they came to the end of the platform, where a buckboard +was waiting in the dim light of one of the station lamps. Blackton +introduced Joanne, and assisted her into the seat beside his wife. + +"We'll leave you ladies to become acquainted while we rustle the baggage," +he said. "Got the checks, Aldous?" + +Joanne had given Aldous two checks on the train, and he handed them to +Blackton. Together they made their way to the baggage-room. + +"Thought Miss Gray would have some luggage, so I had one of my men come +with another team," he explained. "We won't have to wait. I'll give him the +checks." + +Before they returned to the buckboard, Aldous halted his friend. + +"I couldn't say much in that telegram," he said. "If Miss Gray wasn't a +bit tired and unstrung I'd let her explain. I want you to tell Mrs. +Blackton that she has come to Tête Jaune on a rather unpleasant mission, +old man. Nothing less than to attend to the grave of a--a near relative." + +"I regret that--I regret it very much," replied Blackton, flinging away the +match he had lighted without touching it to his cigar. "I guessed something +was wrong. She's welcome at our place, Aldous--for as long as she remains +in Tête Jaune. Perhaps I knew this relative. If I can assist you--or +her----" + +"He died before the steel came," said Aldous. "FitzHugh was his name. Old +Donald and I are going to take her to the grave. Miss Gray is an old friend +of mine," he lied boldly. "We want to start at dawn. Will that be too much +trouble for you and your wife?" + +"No trouble at all," declared Blackton. "We've got a Chinese cook who's +more like an owl than a human. How will a four o'clock breakfast suit you?" + +"Splendidly!" + +As they went on, the contractor said: + +"I carried your word to MacDonald. Hunted him down out in the bush. He is +very anxious to see you. He said he would not be at the depot, but that you +must not fail him. He's kept strangely under cover of late. Curious old +ghost, isn't he?" + +"The strangest man in the mountains," said Aldous "And, when you come to +know him, the most lovable. We're going North together." + +This time it was Blackton who stopped, with a hand on his companion's arm. +A short distance from them they could see the buckboard in the light of +the station lamp. + +"Has old Donald written you lately?" he asked. + +"No. He says he hasn't written a letter in twenty years." + +Blackton hesitated. + +"Then you haven't heard of his--accident?" + +The strange look in the contractor's face as he lighted a cigar made John +Aldous catch him sharply by the arm. + +"What do you mean?" + +"He was shot. I happened to be in Dr. Brady's office when he dragged +himself in, late at night. Doc got the bullet out of his shoulder. It +wasn't a bad wound. The old man swore it was an accident, and asked us to +say nothing about it. We haven't. But I've been wondering. Old Donald said +he was careless with his own pistol. But the fact is, Aldous--_he was shot +from behind!_" + +"The deuce you say!" + +"There was no perforation except from _behind_. In some way the bullet had +spent itself before it reached him. Otherwise it would have killed him." + +For a moment Aldous stared in speechless amazement into Blackton's face. + +"When did this happen?" he asked then. + +"Three days ago. Since then I have not seen old Donald until to-night. +Almost by accident I met him out there in the timber. I delivered the +telegram you sent him. After he had read it I showed him mine. He scribbled +something on a bit of paper, folded it, and pinned it with a porcupine +quill. I've been mighty curious, but I haven't pulled out that quill. Here +it is." + +From his pocket he produced the note and gave it to Aldous. + +"I'll read it a little later," said Aldous. "The ladies may possibly become +anxious about us." + +He dropped it in his pocket as he thanked Blackton for the trouble he had +taken in finding MacDonald. As he climbed into the front seat of the +buckboard his eyes met Joanne's. He was glad that in a large measure she +had recovered her self-possession. She smiled at him as they drove off, and +there was something in the sweet tremble of her lips that made him almost +fancy she was asking his forgiveness for having forgotten herself. Her +voice sounded more natural to him as she spoke to Mrs. Blackton. The +latter, a plump little blue-eyed woman with dimples and golden hair, was +already making her feel at home. She leaned over and placed a hand on her +husband's shoulder. + +"Let's drive home by way of town, Paul," she suggested. "It's only a little +farther, and I'm quite sure Miss Gray will be interested in our Great White +Way of the mountains. And I'm crazy to see that bear you were telling me +about," she added. + +Nothing could have suited Aldous more than this suggestion. He was sure +that Quade, following his own and Culver Rann's old methods, had already +prepared stories about Joanne, and he not only wanted Quade's friends--but +all of Tête Jaune as well--to see Joanne in the company of Mrs. Paul +Blackton and her husband. And this was a splendid opportunity, for the +night carnival was already beginning. + +"The bear is worth seeing," said Blackton, turning his team in the +direction of the blazing light of the half-mile street that was the +Broadway of Tête Jaune. "And the woman who rides him is worth seeing, too," +he chuckled. "He's a big fellow--and she plays the Godiva act. Rides him up +and down the street with her hair down, collecting dimes and quarters and +half dollars as she goes." + +A minute later the length of the street swept out ahead of them. It is +probable that the world had never before seen a street just like this +Broadway in Tête Jaune--the pleasure Mecca of five thousand workers along +the line of steel. There had been great "camps" in the building of other +railroads, but never a city in the wilderness like this--a place that had +sprung up like magic and which, a few months later, was doomed to disappear +as quickly. For half a mile it blazed out ahead of them, two garishly +lighted rows of shacks, big tents, log buildings, and rough board +structures, with a rough, wide street between. + +To-night Tête Jaune was like a blazing fire against the darkness of the +forest and mountain beyond. A hundred sputtering "jacks" sent up columns of +yellow flame in front of places already filled with the riot and tumult of +the night. A thousand lamps and coloured lanterns flashed like fireflies +along the way, and under them the crowd had gathered, and was flowing back +and forth. It was a weird and fantastic sight--this one strange and almost +uncanny street that was there largely for the play and the excitement of +men. + +Aldous turned to Joanne. He knew what this town meant. It was the first and +the last of its kind, and its history would never be written. The world +outside the mountains knew nothing of it. Like the men who made up its +transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past. Even the +mountains would forget it. But more than once, as he had stood a part of +it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the +things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden +tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy. He found something of +his own thought in Joanne's eyes. + +"There isn't much to it," he said, "but to-night, if you made the hunt, you +could find men of eighteen or twenty nationalities in that street." + +"And a little more besides," laughed Blackton. "If you could write the +complete story of how Tête Jaune has broken the law, Aldous, it would fill +a volume as big as Peggy's family Bible!" + +"And after all, it's funny," said Peggy Blackton. "There!" she cried +suddenly. "Isn't _that_ funny?" + +The glare and noisy life were on both sides of them now. Half a dozen +phonographs were going. From up the street came the softer strains of a +piano, and from in between the shrieking notes of bagpipe. Peggy Blackton +was pointing to a brilliantly lighted, black-tarpaulined shop. Huge white +letters on its front announced that Lady Barbers were within. They could +see two of them at work through the big window. And they were pretty. The +place was crowded with men. Men were waiting outside. + +"Paul says they charge a dollar for a haircut and fifty cents for a shave," +explained Peggy Blackton. "And the man over there across the street is +going broke because he can't get business at fifteen cents a shave. _Isn't_ +it funny?" + +As they went on Aldous searched the street for Quade. Several times he +turned to the back seat, and always he found Joanne's eyes questing in that +strange way for the some one whom she expected to see. Mrs. Blackton was +pointing out lighted places, and explaining things as they passed, but he +knew that in spite of her apparent attention Joanne heard only a part of +what she was saying. In that crowd she hoped--or feared--to find a certain +face. And again Aldous told himself that it was not Quade's face. + +Near the end of the street a crowd was gathering, and here, for a moment, +Blackton stopped his team within fifty feet of the objects of attraction. A +slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was standing beside a +huge brown bear. Her sleek black hair, shining as if it had been oiled, +fell in curls about her shoulders. Her rouged lips were smiling. Even at +that distance her black eyes sparkled like diamonds. She had evidently just +finished taking up a collection, for she was fastening the cord of a silken +purse about her neck. In another moment she bestrode the bear, the crowd +fell apart, and as the onlookers broke into a roar of applause the big +beast lumbered slowly up the street with its rider. + +"One of Culver Rann's friends," said Blackton _sotto voce_, as he drove on. +"She takes in a hundred a night if she makes a cent!" + +[Illustration: A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider.] + +Blackton's big log bungalow was close to the engineers' camp half a mile +distant from the one lighted street and the hundreds of tents and shacks +that made up the residential part of the town. Not until they were inside, +and Peggy Blackton had disappeared with Joanne for a few moments, did +Aldous take old Donald MacDonald's note from his pocket. He pulled out the +quill, unfolded the bit of paper, and read the few crudely written words +the mountain man had sent him. Blackton turned in time to catch the sudden +amazement in his face. Crushing the note in his hand, Aldous looked at the +other, his mouth tightening. + +"You must help me make excuses, old man," he said quietly. "It will seem +strange to them if I do not stay for supper. But--it is impossible. I must +see old Donald as quickly as I can get to him." + +His manner more than his words kept Blackton from urging him to remain. The +contractor stared at him for a moment, his own eyes growing harder and more +direct. + +"It's about the shooting," he said. "If you want me to go with you, +Aldous----" + +"Thanks. That will be unnecessary." + +Peggy Blackton and Joanne were returning. Aldous turned toward them as they +entered the room. With the note still in his hand he repeated to them what +he had told Blackton--that he had received word which made it immediately +urgent for him to go to MacDonald. He shook hands with the Blacktons, +promising to be on hand for the four o'clock breakfast. + +Joanne followed him to the door and out upon the veranda. For a moment they +were alone, and now her eyes were wide and filled with fear as he clasped +her hands closely in his own. + +"I saw him," she whispered, her fingers tightening convulsively. "I saw +that man--Quade--at the station. He followed us up the street. Twice I +looked behind--and saw him. I am afraid--afraid to let you go back there. I +believe he is somewhere out there now--waiting for you!" + +She was frightened, trembling; and her fear for him, the fear in her +shining eyes, in her throbbing breath, in the clasp of her fingers, sent +through John Aldous a joy that almost made him free her hands and crush her +in his arms in the ecstasy of that wonderful moment. Then Peggy Blackton +and her husband appeared in the door. He released her hands, and stepped +out into the gloom. The cheery good-nights of the Blacktons followed him. +And Joanne's good-night was in her eyes--following him until he was gone, +filled with their entreaty and their fear. + +A hundred yards distant, where the trail split to lead to the camp of the +engineers, there was a lantern on a pole. Here Aldous paused, out of sight +of the Blackton bungalow, and in the dim light read again MacDonald's note. + +In a cramped and almost illegible hand the old wanderer of the mountains +had written: + + Don't go to cabin. Culver Rann waiting to kill you. Don't show + yorself in town. Cum to me as soon as you can on trail striking + north to Loon Lake. Watch yorself. Be ready with yor gun. + + DONALD MacDONALD. + +Aldous shoved the note in his pocket and slipped back out of the +lantern-glow into deep shadow. For several minutes he stood silent and +listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +As John Aldous stood hidden in the darkness, listening for the sound of a +footstep, Joanne's words still rang in his ears. "I believe he is out +there--waiting for you," she had said; and, chuckling softly in the gloom, +he told himself that nothing would give him more satisfaction than an +immediate and material proof of her fear. In the present moment he felt a +keen desire to confront Quade face to face out there in the lantern-glow, +and settle with the mottled beast once for all. The fact that Quade had +seen Joanne as the guest of the Blacktons hardened him in his +determination. Quade could no longer be in possible error regarding her. He +knew that she had friends, and that she was not of the kind who could be +made or induced to play his game and Culver Rann's. If he followed her +after this---- + +Aldous gritted his teeth and stared up and down the black trail. Five +minutes passed and he heard nothing that sounded like a footstep, and he +saw no moving shadow in the gloom. Slowly he continued along the road until +he came to where a narrow pack-trail swung north and east through the thick +spruce and balsam in the direction of Loon Lake. Remembering MacDonald's +warning, he kept his pistol in his hand. The moon was just beginning to +rise over the shoulder of a mountain, and after a little it lighted up the +more open spaces ahead of him. Now and then he paused, and turned to +listen. As he progressed with slowness and caution, his mind worked +swiftly. He knew that Donald MacDonald was the last man in the world to +write such a message as he had sent him through Blackton unless there had +been a tremendous reason for it. But why, he asked himself again and again, +should Culver Rann want to kill him? Rann knew nothing of Joanne. He had +not seen her. And surely Quade had not had time to formulate a plot with +his partner before MacDonald wrote his warning. Besides, an attempt had +been made to assassinate the old mountaineer! MacDonald had not warned him +against Quade. He had told him to guard himself against Rann. And what +reason could this Culver Rann have for doing him injury? The more he +thought of it the more puzzled he became. And then, in a flash, the +possible solution of it all came to him. + +Had Culver Rann discovered the secret mission on which he and the old +mountaineer were going into the North? Had he learned of the gold--where it +was to be found? And was their assassination the first step in a plot to +secure possession of the treasure? + +The blood in Aldous' veins ran faster. He gripped his pistol harder. More +closely he looked into the moonlit gloom of the trail ahead of him. He +believed that he had guessed the meaning of MacDonald's warning. It was the +gold! More than once thought of the yellow treasure far up in the North had +thrilled him, but never as it thrilled him now. Was the old tragedy of it +to be lived over again? Was it again to play its part in a terrible drama +of men's lives, as it had played it more than forty years ago? The gold! +The gold that for nearly half a century had lain with the bones of its +dead, alone with its terrible secret, alone until Donald MacDonald had +found it again! He had not told Joanne the story of it, the appalling and +almost unbelievable tragedy of it. He had meant to do so. But they had +talked of other things. He had meant to tell her that it was not the gold +itself that was luring him far to the north--that it was not the gold alone +that was taking Donald MacDonald back to it. + +And now, as he stood for a moment listening to the low sweep of the wind in +the spruce-tops, it seemed to him that the night was filled with whispering +voices of that long-ago--and he shivered, and held his breath. A cloud had +drifted under the moon. For a few moments it was pitch dark. The fingers of +his hand dug into the rough bark of a spruce. He did not move. It was then +that he heard something above the caressing rustle of the wind in the +spruce-tops. + +It came to him faintly, from full half a mile deeper in the black forest +that reached down to the bank of the Frazer. It was the night call of an +owl--one of the big gray owls that turned white as the snow in winter. +Mentally he counted the notes in the call. One, two, three, _four_--and a +flood of relief swept over him. It was MacDonald. They had used that signal +in their hunting, when they had wished to locate each other without +frightening game. Always there were three notes in the big gray owl's +quavering cry. The fourth was human. He put his hands to his mouth and sent +back an answer, emphasizing the fourth note. The light breeze had died down +for a moment, and Aldous heard the old mountaineer's reply as it floated +faintly back to him through the forest. Continuing to hold his pistol, he +went on, this time more swiftly. + +MacDonald did not signal again. The moon was climbing rapidly into the sky, +and with each passing minute the night was becoming lighter. He had gone +half a mile when he stopped again and signalled softly. MacDonald's voice +answered, so near that for an instant the automatic flashed in the +moonlight. Aldous stepped out where the trail had widened into a small open +spot. Half a dozen paces from him, in the bright flood of the moon, stood +Donald MacDonald. + +The night, the moon-glow, the tense attitude of his waiting added to the +weirdness of the picture which the old wanderer of the mountains made as +Aldous faced him. MacDonald was tall; some trick of the night made him +appear almost unhumanly tall as he stood in the centre of that tiny moonlit +amphitheatre. His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders drooped a +little, for he was old. A thick, shaggy beard fell in a silvery sheen over +his breast. His hair, gray as the underwing of the owl whose note he +forged, straggled in uncut disarray from under the drooping rim of a +battered and weatherworn hat. His coat was of buckskin, and it was short at +the sleeves--four inches too short; and the legs of his trousers were cut +off between the knees and the ankles, giving him a still greater appearance +of height. + +In the crook of his arm MacDonald held a rifle, a strange-looking, +long-barrelled rifle of a type a quarter of a century old. And Donald +MacDonald, in the picture he made, was like his gun, old and gray and +ghostly, as if he had risen out of some graveyard of the past to warm +himself in the yellow splendour of the moon. But in the grayness and +gauntness of him there was something that was mightier than the strength of +youth. He was alert. In the crook of his arm there was caution. His eyes +were as keen as the eyes of an animal. His shoulders spoke of a strength +but little impaired by the years. Ghostly gray beard, ghostly gray hair, +haunting eyes that gleamed, all added to the strange and weird +impressiveness of the man as he stood before Aldous. And when he spoke, his +voice had in it the deep, low, cavernous note of a partridge's drumming. + +"I'm glad you've come, Aldous," he said. "I've been waiting ever since the +train come in. I was afraid you'd go to the cabin!" + +Aldous stepped forth and gripped the old mountaineer's outstretched hand. +There was intense relief in Donald's eyes. + +"I got a little camp back here in the bush," he went on, nodding riverward. +"It's safer 'n the shack these days. Yo're sure--there ain't no one +following?" + +"Quite certain," assured Aldous. "Look here, MacDonald--what in thunder has +happened? Don't continue my suspense! Who shot you? Why did you warn me?" + +Deep in his beard the old hunter laughed. + +"Same fellow as would have shot you, I guess," he answered. "They made a +bad job of it, Johnny, an awful bad job, an' mebby there'd been a better +man layin' for you!" + +He was pulling Aldous in the bush as he spoke. For ten minutes he dived on +ahead through a jungle in which there was no trail. Suddenly he turned, +led the way around the edge of a huge mass of rock, and paused a moment +later before a small smouldering fire. Against the face of a gigantic +boulder was a balsam shelter. A few cooking utensils were scattered about. +It was evident that MacDonald had been living here for several days. + +"Looks as though I'd run away, don't it, Johnny?" he asked, laughing in his +curious, chuckling way again. "An' so I did, boy. From the mountain up +there I've been watching things through my telescope--been keepin' quiet +since Doc pulled the bullet out. I've been layin' for the Breed. I wanted +him to think I'd vamoosed. I'm goin' to kill him!" + +He had squatted down before the fire, his long rifle across his knees, and +spoke as quietly as though he was talking of a partridge or a squirrel +instead of a human being. He wormed a hand into one of his pockets and +produced a small dark object which he handed to Aldous The other felt an +uncanny chill as it touched his fingers. It was a mis-shapened bullet. + +"Doc gave me the lead," continued MacDonald coolly, beginning to slice a +pipeful of tobacco from a tar-black plug. "It come from Joe's gun. I've +hunted with him enough to know his bullet. He fired through the window of +the cabin. If it hadn't been for the broom handle--just the end of it +stickin' up"--he shrugged his gaunt shoulders as he stuffed the tobacco +into the bowl of his pipe--"I'd been dead!" he finished tersely. + +"You mean that Joe----" + +"Has sold himself to Culver Rann!" exclaimed MacDonald. He sprang to his +feet. For the first time he showed excitement. His eyes blazed with +repressed rage. A hand gripped the barrel of his rifle as if to crush it. +"He's sold himself to Culver Rann!" he repeated. "He's sold him our secret. +He's told him where the gold is, Johnny! He's bargained to guide Rann an' +his crowd to it! An' first--they're goin' to kill _us!_" + +With a low whistle Aldous took off his hat. He ran a hand through his +blond-gray hair. Then he replaced his hat and drew two cigars from his +pocket. MacDonald accepted one. Aldous' eyes were glittering; his lips were +smiling. + +"They are, are they, Donald? They're going to kill us?" + +"They're goin' to try," amended the old hunter, with another curious +chuckle in his ghostly beard. "They're goin' to try, Johnny. That's why I +told you not to go to the cabin. I wasn't expecting you for a week. +To-morrow I was goin' to start on a hike for Miette. I been watching +through my telescope from the mountain up there. I see Quade come in this +morning on a hand-car. Twice I see him and Rann together. Then I saw +Blackton hike out into the bush. I was worrying about you an' wondered if +he had any word. So I laid for him on the trail--an' I guess it was lucky. +I ain't been able to set my eyes on Joe. I looked for hours through the +telescope--an' I couldn't find him. He's gone, or Culver Rann is keeping +him out of sight." + +For several moments Aldous looked at his companion in silence. Then he +said: + +"You're sure of all this, are you, Donald? You have good proof--that Joe +has turned traitor?" + +"I've been suspicious of him ever since we come down from the North," +spoke MacDonald slowly. "I watched him--night an' day. I was afraid he'd +get a grubstake an' start back alone. Then I saw him with Culver Rann. It +was late. I heard 'im leave the shack, an' I followed. He went to Rann's +house--an' Rann was expecting him. Three times I followed him to Culver +Rann's house. I knew what was happening then, an' I planned to get him back +in the mountains on a hunt, an' kill him. But I was too late. The shot came +through the window. Then he disappeared. An'--Culver Rann is getting an +outfit together! Twenty head of horses, with grub for three months!" + +"The deuce! And our outfit? Is it ready?" + +"To the last can o' beans!" + +"And your plan, Donald?" + +All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as he +came nearer to Aldous. + +"Get out of Tête Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice that +quivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into the +mountains with our outfit--far enough back--and then wait!" + +"Wait?" + +"Yes--wait. If they follow us--_fight!_" + +Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily they +looked into each other's eyes. + +Then John Aldous spoke: + +"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night--it is +impossible." + +The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop came +into MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despair +settled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's hand +more firmly. + +"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight," he said quickly. "Only we've +got to plan differently. Sit down, Donald. Something has been happening to +me. And I'm going to tell you about it." + +A little back from the fire they seated themselves, and Aldous told Donald +MacDonald about Joanne. + +He began at the beginning, from the moment his eyes first saw her as she +entered Quade's place. He left nothing out. He told how she had come into +his life, and how he intended to fight to keep her from going out of it. He +told of his fears, his hopes, the mystery of their coming to Tête Jaune, +and how Quade had preceded them to plot the destruction of the woman he +loved. He described her as she had stood that morning, like a radiant +goddess in the sun; and when he came to that he leaned nearer, and said +softly: + +"And when I saw her there, Donald, with her hair streaming about her like +that, I thought of the time you told me of that other woman--the woman of +years and years ago--and how you, Donald, used to look upon her in the sun, +and rejoice in your possession. Her spirit has been with you always. You +have told me how for nearly fifty years you have followed it over these +mountains. And this woman means as much to me. If she should die to-night +her spirit would live with me in that same way. You understand, Donald. I +can't go into the mountains to-night. God knows when I can go--now. But +you----" + +MacDonald had risen. He turned his face to the black wall of the forest. +Aldous thought he saw a sudden quiver pass through the great, bent +shoulders. + +"And I," said MacDonald slowly, "will have the horses ready for you at +dawn. We will fight this other fight--later." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +For an hour after Donald MacDonald had pledged himself to accompany Joanne +and Aldous on their pilgrimage to the grave in the Saw Tooth Range the two +men continued to discuss the unusual complications in which they had +suddenly become involved, and at the same time prepared themselves a supper +of bacon and coffee over the fire. They agreed upon a plan of action with +one exception. Aldous was determined to return to the town, arguing there +was a good strategic reason for showing himself openly and without fear. +MacDonald opposed this apprehensively. + +"Better lay quiet until morning," he expostulated. "You'd better listen to +me, an' do that, Johnny. I've got something in my shoulder that tells me +you'd better!" + +In the face of the old hunter's misgiving, Aldous prepared to leave. It was +nearly ten o'clock when he set back in the direction of Tête Jaune, Donald +accompanying him as far as the moonlit amphitheatre in the forest. There +they separated, and Aldous went on alone. + +He believed that Joanne and the Blacktons would half expect him to return +to the bungalow after he had seen MacDonald. He was sure that Blackton, at +least, would look for him until quite late. The temptation to take +advantage of their hospitality was great, especially as it would bring him +in the company of Joanne again. On the other hand, he was certain that this +first night in Tête Jaune held very large possibilities for him. The +detective instinct in him was roused, and his adventurous spirit was alive +for action. First of all, he wanted proof of what MacDonald had told him. +That an attempt had been made to assassinate the old mountaineer he did not +for an instant doubt. But had Joe DeBar, the half-breed, actually betrayed +them? Had he sold himself to Culver Rann, and did Rann hold the key to the +secret expedition they had planned into the North? He did not, at first, +care to see Rann. He made up his mind that if he did meet him he would stop +and chat casually with him, as though he had heard and seen nothing to +rouse his suspicions. He particularly wanted to find DeBar; and, next to +DeBar, Quade himself. + +The night carnival was at its height when Aldous re-entered the long, +lighted street. From ten until eleven was the liveliest hour of the night. +Even the restaurants and soup-kitchens were crowded then. He strolled +slowly down the street until he came to a little crowd gathered about the +bear equestrienne. The big canvas dance-hall a few doors away had lured +from her most of her admirers by this time, and Aldous found no difficulty +in reaching the inner circle. He looked first for the half-breed. Failing +to find him, he looked at the woman, who stood only a few feet from him. +Her glossy black curls were a bit dishevelled, and the excitement of the +night had added to the vivid colouring of her rouged lips and cheeks. Her +body was sleek and sinuous in its silken vesture; arms and shoulders were +startlingly white; and when she turned, facing Aldous, her black eyes +flashed fires of deviltry and allurement. + +For a moment he stared into her face. If he had not been looking closely he +would not have caught the swift change that shot into the siren-like play +of her orbs. It was almost instantaneous. Her slow-travelling glance +stopped as she saw him. He saw the quick intake of her breath, a sudden +compression of her lips, the startled, searching scrutiny of a pair of eyes +from which, for a moment, all the languor and coquetry of her trade were +gone. Then she passed him, smiling again, nodding, sweeping a hand and arm +effectively through her handsome curls as she flung a shapely limb over the +broad back of the bear. In a garish sort of way the woman was beautiful, +and this night, as on all others, her beauty had nearly filled the silken +coin-bag suspended from her neck. As she rode down the street Aldous +recalled Blackton's words: She was a friend of Culver Rann's. He wondered +if this fact accounted for the strangeness of the look she had given him. + +He passed on to the dance-hall. It was crowded, mostly with men. But here +and there, like so many faces peering forth from living graves, he saw the +Little Sisters of Tête Jaune Cache. Outnumbered ten to one, their voices +rang out in shrill banter and delirious laughter above the rumble of men. +At the far end, a fiddle, a piano, and a clarinet were squealing forth +music. The place smelled strongly of whisky. It always smelled of that, for +most of the men who sought amusement here got their whisky in spite of the +law. There were rock-hogs from up the line, and rock-hogs from down the +line, men of all nationalities and of almost all ages; teamsters, +trail-cutters, packers, and rough-shod navvies; men whose daily task was to +play with dynamite and giant powder; steel-men, tie-men, and men who +drilled into the hearts of mountains. More than once John Aldous had looked +upon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wild +revelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia would +again be the builders of an empire. The thin, hollow-cheeked faces that +passed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mind +the strength of the picture. They were but moths, fluttering about in their +own doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achieve +destruction. + +For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, and +nowhere did he see DeBar. He dropped out, and continued leisurely along the +lighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white striped +soup-tent. At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as the +dance-hall. Aldous knew Lovak, the Hungarian. + +Through Lovak he had found the key that had unlocked for him many curious +and interesting things associated with that powerful Left Arm of the Empire +Builders--the Slav. Except for a sprinkling of Germans, a few Italians, and +now and then a Greek or Swiss, only the Slavs filled Lovak's place!--Slavs +from all the Russias and the nations south: the quick and chattering Polak; +the thick-set, heavy-jowled Croatian; the silent and dangerous-eyed +Lithuanian. All came in for Lovak's wonderful soup, which he sold in big +yellow bowls at ten cents a bowl--soup of barley, rice, and cabbage, of +beef and mutton, of everything procurable out of which soup could be made, +and, whether of meat or vegetable, smelling to heaven of garlic. + +Fifty men were eating when Aldous went in, devouring their soup with the +utter abandon and joy of the Galician, so that the noise they made was like +the noise of fifty pigs at fifty troughs. Now and then DeBar, the +half-breed, came here for soup, and Aldous searched quickly for him. He was +turning to go when his friend, Lovak, came to him. No, Lovak had not seen +DeBar. But he had news. That day the authorities--the police--had +confiscated twenty dressed hogs, and in each porcine carcass they had found +four-quart bottles of whisky, artistically imbedded in the leaf-lard fat. +The day before those same authorities had confiscated a barrel of +"kerosene." They were becoming altogether too officious, Lovak thought. + +Aldous went on. He looked in at a dozen restaurants, and twice as many +soft-drink emporiums, where phonographs were worked until they were cracked +and dizzy. He stopped at a small tobacco shop, and entered to buy himself +some cigars. There was one other customer ahead of him. He was lighting a +cigar, and the light of a big hanging lamp flashed on a diamond ring. Over +his sputtering match his eyes met those of John Aldous. They were dark +eyes, neither brown nor black, but dark, with the keenness and strange +glitter of a serpent's. He wore a small, clipped moustache; his hands were +white; he was a man whom one might expect to possess the _sang froid_ of a +devil in any emergency. For barely an instant he hesitated in the operation +of lighting his cigar as he saw Aldous. Then he nodded. + +"Hello, John Aldous," he said. + +"Good evening, Culver Rann," replied Aldous. + +For a moment his nerves had tingled--the next they were like steel. Culver +Rann's teeth gleamed. Aldous smiled back. They were cold, hard, rapierlike +glances. Each understood now that the other was a deadly enemy, for Quade's +enemies were also Culver Rann's. Aldous moved carelessly to the glass case +in which were the cigars. With the barest touch of one of his slim white +hands Culver Rann stopped him. + +"Have one of mine, Aldous," he invited, opening a silver case filled with +cigars. "We've never had the pleasure of smoking together, you know." + +"Never," said Aldous, accepting one of the cigars. "Thanks." + +As he lighted it, their eyes met again. Aldous turned to the case. + +"Half a dozen 'Noblemen,'" he said to the man behind the counter; then, to +Rann: "Will you have one on me?" + +"With pleasure," said Rann. He added, smiling straight into the other's +eyes, "What are you doing up here, Aldous? After local colour?" + +"Perhaps. The place interests me." + +"It's a lively town." + +"Decidedly. And I understand that you've played an important part in the +making of it," replied Aldous carelessly. + +For a flash Rann's eyes darkened, and his mouth hardened, then his white +teeth gleamed again. He had caught the insinuation, and he had scarcely +been able to ward off the shot. + +"I've tried to do my small share," he admitted. "If you're after local +colour for your books, Aldous, I possibly may be able to assist you--if +you're in town long." + +"Undoubtedly you could," said Aldous. "I think you could tell me a great +deal that I would like to know, Rann. But--will you?" + +There was a direct challenge in his coldly smiling eyes. + +"Yes, I think I shall be quite pleased to do so," said Rann. +"Especially--if you are long in town." There was an odd emphasis on those +last words. + +He moved toward the door. + +"And if you are here very long," he added, his eyes gleaming significantly, +"it is possible you may have experiences of your own which would make very +interesting reading if they ever got into print. Good-night, Aldous!" + +For two or three minutes after Rann had gone Aldous loitered in the tobacco +shop. Then he went out. All at once it struck him that he should have kept +his eyes on Quade's partner. He should have followed him. With the hope of +seeing him again he walked up and down the street. It was eleven o'clock +when he went into Big Ben's pool-room. Five minutes later he came out just +as a woman hurried past him, carrying with her a strong scent of perfume. +It was the Lady of the Bear. She was in a street dress now, her glossy +curls still falling loose about her--probably homeward bound after her +night's harvest. It struck Aldous that the hour was early for her +retirement, and that she seemed somewhat in a hurry. + +The woman was going in the direction of Rann's big log bungalow, which was +built well out of town toward the river. She had not seen him as he stood +in the pool-room doorway, and before she had passed out of sight he was +following her. There were a dozen branch trails and "streets" on the way to +Rann's, and into the gloom of some one of these the woman disappeared, so +that Aldous lost her entirely. He was not disappointed when he found she +had left the main trail. + +Five minutes later he stood close to Rann's house. From the side on which +he had approached it was dark. No gleam of light showed through the +windows. Slowly he walked around the building, and stopped suddenly on the +opposite side. Here a closely drawn curtain was illuminated by a glow from +within. Cautiously Aldous made his way along the log wall of the house +until he came to the window. At one side the curtain had caught against +some object, leaving perhaps a quarter of an inch of space through which +the light shone. Aldous brought his eyes on a level with this space. + +A half of the room came within his vision. Directly in front of him, +lighted by a curiously shaped iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, was a +dull red mahogany desk-table. At one side of this, partly facing him, was +Culver Rann. Opposite him sat Quade. + +Rann was speaking, while Quade, with his bullish shoulders hunched forward +and his fleshy red neck, rolling over the collar of his coat, leaned across +the table in a tense and listening attitude. With his eyes glued to the +aperture, Aldous strained his ears to catch what Rann was saying. He heard +only the low and unintelligible monotone of his voice. A mocking smile was +accompanying Rann's words. To-night, as at all times, this hawk who preyed +upon human lives was immaculate. In all ways but one he was the antithesis +of the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyed +carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in +his cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little +moustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands, +as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, on +the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman. +Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain +and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous +men in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool and +suave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quade +lacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminate +immaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal. + +Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. He +struck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled. +And John Aldous slipped away from the window. + +His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket that +held his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behind +Rann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He was +sure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald--and +Joanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would be +three quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door was +an inspiration. + +Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the door +and found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch at +a time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was a +second closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. He +closed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of air +or a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, he +began to open the second door. + +An inch at first, then two inches, three inches--a foot--he worked the door +inward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to the +floor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open door +he saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted a +fresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with a +banter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating. + +"You amaze me," Rann was saying. "You amaze me utterly. You've gone +mad--mad as a rock-rabbit, Quade! Do you mean to tell me you're on the +square when you offer to turn over a half of your share in the gold if I +help you to get this woman?" + +"I do," replied Quade thickly. "I mean just that! And we'll put it down in +black an' white--here, now. You fix the papers, same as any other deal, and +I'll sign!" + +For a moment Culver Rann did not reply. He leaned back in his chair, thrust +the thumbs of his white hands in his vest, and sent a cloud of smoke above +his head. Then he looked at Quade, a gleam of humour in his eyes. + +"Nothing like a woman for turning a man's head soft," he chuckled. "Nothing +in the world like it, 'pon my word, Quade. First it was DeBar. I don't +believe we'd got him if he hadn't seen Marie riding her bear. Marie and +her curls and her silk tights, Quade--s'elp me, it wouldn't have surprised +me so much if you'd fallen in love with _her!_ And over this other woman +you're as mad as Joe is over Marie. At first sight he was ready to sell his +soul for her. So--I gave Marie to him. And now, for some other woman, +you're just as anxious to surrender a half of your share of what we've +bought through Marie. Good heaven, man, if you were in love with Marie----" + +"Damn Marie!" growled Quade. "I know the time when you were bugs over her +yourself, Rann. It wasn't so long ago. If I'd looked at her then----" + +"Of course, not then," interrupted Rann smilingly. "That would have been +impolite, Quade, and not at all in agreement with the spirit of our +brotherly partnership. And, you must admit, Marie is a devilish +good-looking girl. I've surrendered her only for a brief spell to DeBar. +After he has taken us to the gold--why, the poor idiot will probably have +been sufficiently happy to----" + +He paused, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. + +"--go into cold storage," finished Quade. + +"Exactly." + +Again Quade leaned over the table, and for a moment there was silence, a +silence in which Aldous thought the pounding of his heart must betray him. +He lay motionless on the floor. The nails of his fingers dug into the bare +wood. Under the palm of his right hand lay his automatic. + +Then Quade spoke. There must have been more in his face than was spoken in +his words, for Culver Rann took the cigar from between his lips, and a +light that was deadly serious slowly filled his eyes. + +"Rann, we'll talk business!" Quade's voice was harsh, deep, and quivering. +"I want this woman. I may be a fool, but I'm going to have her. I might get +her alone, but we've always done things together--an' so I made you that +proposition. It ain't a hard job. It's one of the easiest jobs we ever had. +Only that fool of a writer is in the way--an' he's got to go anyway. We've +got to get rid of him on account of the gold, him an' MacDonald. We've got +that planned. An' I've showed you how we can get the woman, an' no one ever +know. Are you in on this with me?" + +Culver Rann's reply was as quick and sharp as a pistol shot. + +"I am." + +For another moment there was silence. Then Quade asked: + +"Any need of writin', Culver?" + +"No. There can't be a written agreement in this deal because--it's +dangerous. There won't be much said about old MacDonald. But questions, a +good many of them, will be asked about this man Aldous. As for the +woman----" Rann shrugged his shoulders with a sinister smile. "She will +disappear like the others," he finished. "No one will ever get on to that. +If she doesn't make a pal like Marie--after a time, why----" + +Again Aldous saw that peculiar shrug of his shoulders. + +Quade's head nodded on his thick neck. + +"Of course, I agree to that," he said. "After a time. But most of 'em have +come over, ain't they, Culver? Eh? Most of 'em have," he chuckled coarsely. +"When you see her you won't call me a fool for going dippy over her, +Culver. And she'll come round all right after she's gone through what we've +got planned for her. I'll make a pal of her!" + +In that moment, as he listened to the gloating passion and triumph in +Quade's brutal voice, something broke in the brain of John Aldous. It +filled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought or +plan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a single +desire--the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged through +him, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth in +animal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that the +others did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hear +the slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol. + +For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensed +the words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to kill +them. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that he +might kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. He +wanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment when +they would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. He +would give them that one moment of life--just that one. Then he would kill. + +With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room. + +"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself +there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver +Rann. The latter sat stunned. Not the movement of a finger broke the +stonelike immobility of his attitude. His eyes were like two dark coals +gazing steadily as a serpent's over Quade's hunched shoulders and bowed +head. Quade seemed as if frozen on the point of speaking to Rann. One hand +was still poised a foot above the table. It was he who broke the tense and +lifeless tableau. + +Slowly, almost as slowly as Aldous had opened the door, Quade turned his +head, and stared into the coldly smiling face of the man whom he had +plotted to kill, and saw the gleaming pistol in his hand. A curious look +overcame his pouchy face, a look not altogether of terror--but of shock. He +knew Aldous had heard. He accepted in an instant, and perceptibly, the +significance of the pistol in his hand. But Culver Rann sat like a rock. +His face expressed nothing. Not for the smallest part of a second had he +betrayed any emotion that might be throbbing within him. In spite of +himself Aldous admired the man's unflinching nerve. + +"Good evening, gentlemen!" he repeated. + +Then Rann leaned slowly forward over the table. One hand rose to his +moustache. It was his right hand. The other was invisible. Quade pulled +himself together and stepped to the end of the table, his two empty hands +in front of him. Aldous, still smiling, faced Rann's glittering eyes and +covered him with his automatic. Culver Rann twisted the end of his +moustache, and smiled back. + +"Well?" he said. "Is it checkmate?" + +"It is," replied Aldous. "I've promised you scoundrels one minute of life. +I guess that minute is about up." + +The last word was scarcely out of his mouth when the room was in +darkness--a darkness so complete and sudden that for an instant his hand +faltered, and in that instant he heard the overturning of a chair and the +falling of a body. Twice his automatic sent a lightning-flash of fire where +Culver Rann had sat; twice it spat threadlike ribbons of flame through the +blackness where Quade had stood. He knew what had happened, and also what +to expect if he lost out now. The curiously shaped iron lamp had concealed +an electric bulb, and Rann had turned off the switch-key under the table. +He had no further time to think. An object came hurtling through the thick +gloom and fell with terrific force on his outstretched pistol arm. His +automatic flew from his hand and struck against the wall. Unarmed, he +sprang back toward the open door--full into the arms of Quade! + +Aldous knew that it was Quade and not Culver Rann, and he struck out with +all the force he could gather in a short-arm blow. His fist landed against +Quade's thick neck. Again and again he struck, and Quade's grip loosened. +In another moment he would have reached the door if Rann had not caught him +from behind. Never had Aldous felt the clutch of hands like those of the +womanish hands of Culver Rann. It was as if sinuous fingers of steel were +burying themselves in his flesh. Before they found his throat he flung +himself backward with all his weight, and with a tremendous effort freed +himself. + +Both Quade and Culver Rann now stood between him and the door. He could +hear Quade's deep, panting breath. Rann, as before, was silent as death. +Then he heard the door close. A key clicked in the lock. He was trapped. + +"Turn on the light, Billy," he heard Rann say in a quiet, unexcited voice. +"We've got this house-breaker cornered, and he's lost his gun. Turn on the +light--and I'll make one shot do the business!" + +Aldous heard Quade moving, but he was not coming toward the table. +Somewhere in the room was another switch connected with the iron lamp, and +Aldous felt a curious chill shoot up his spine. Without seeing through that +pitch darkness of the room he sensed the fact that Culver Rann was standing +with his back against the locked door, a revolver in his hand. And he knew +that Quade, feeling his way along the wall, held a revolver in his hand. +Men like these two did not go unarmed. The instant the light was turned on +they would do their work. As he stood, silent as Culver Rann, he realized +the tables were turned. In that moment's madness roused by Quade's gloating +assurance of possessing Joanne he had revealed himself like a fool, and now +he was about to reap the whirlwind of his folly. Deliberately he had given +himself up to his enemies. They, too, would be fools if they allowed him to +escape alive. + +He heard Quade stop. His thick hand was fumbling along the wall. Aldous +guessed that he was feeling for the switch. He almost fancied he could see +Rann's revolver levelled at him through the darkness. In that thrilling +moment his mind worked with the swiftness of a powder flash. One of his +hands touched the edge of the desk-table, and he knew that he was standing +directly opposite the curtained window, perhaps six feet from it. If he +flung himself through the window the curtain would save him from being cut +to pieces. + +No sooner had the idea of escape come to him than he had acted. A flood of +light filled the room as his body crashed through the glass. He heard a +cry--a single shot--as he struck the ground. He gathered himself up and ran +swiftly. Fifty yards away he stopped, and looked back. Quade and Rann were +in the window. Then they disappeared, and a moment later the room was again +in gloom. + +For a second time Aldous hurried in the direction of MacDonald's camp. He +knew that, in spite of the protecting curtain, the glass had cut him. He +felt the warm blood dripping over his face; both hands were wet with it, +The arm on which he had received the blow from the unseen object in the +room gave him considerable pain, and he had slightly sprained an ankle in +his leap through the window, so that he limped a little. But his mind was +clear--so clear that in the face of his physical discomfort he caught +himself laughing once or twice as he made his way along the trail. + +Aldous was not of an ordinary type. To a curious and superlative degree he +could appreciate a defeat as well as a triumph. His adventures had been a +part of a life in which he had not always expected to win, and in +to-night's game he admitted that he had been hopelessly and ridiculously +beaten. Tragedy, to him, was a first cousin of comedy; to-night he had set +out to kill, and, instead of killing, he had run like a jack-rabbit for +cover. Also, in that same half-hour Rann and Quade had been sure of him, +and he had given them the surprise of their lives by his catapultic +disappearance through the window. There was something ludicrous about it +all--something that, to him, at least, had turned a possible tragedy into a +very good comedy-drama. + +Nor was Aldous blind to the fact that he had made an utter fool of himself, +and that the consequences of his indiscretion might prove extremely +serious. Had he listened to the conspirators without betraying himself he +would have possessed an important advantage over them. The knowledge he had +gained from overhearing their conversation would have made it comparatively +easy for MacDonald and him to strike them a perhaps fatal blow through the +half-breed DeBar. As the situation stood now, he figured that Quade and +Culver Rann held the advantage. Whatever they had planned to do they would +put into quick execution. They would not lose a minute. + +It was not for himself that Aldous feared. Neither did he fear for Joanne. +Every drop of red fighting blood in him was ready for further action, and +he was determined that Quade should find no opportunity of accomplishing +any scheme he might have against Joanne's person. On the other hand, unless +they could head off DeBar, he believed that Culver Rann's chances of +reaching the gold ahead of them would grow better with the passing of each +hour. To protect Joanne from Quade he must lose no time. MacDonald would +be in the same predicament, while Rann, assisted by as many rascals of his +own colour as he chose to take with him, would be free to carry out the +other part of the conspirators' plans. + +The longer he thought of the mess he had stirred up the more roundly Aldous +cursed his imprudence. And this mess, as he viewed it in these cooler +moments, was even less disturbing than the thought of what might have +happened had he succeeded in his intention of killing both Quade and Rann. +Twenty times as he made his way through the darkness toward MacDonald's +camp he told himself that he must have been mad. To have killed Rann or +Quade in self-defence, or in open fight, would have been playing the game +with a shadow of mountain law behind it. But he had invaded Rann's home. +Had he killed them he would have had but little more excuse than a +house-breaker or a suspicious husband might have had. Tête Jaune would not +countenance cold-blooded shooting, even of criminals. He should have taken +old Donald's advice and waited until they were in the mountains. An +unpleasant chill ran through him as he thought of the narrowness of his +double escape. + +To his surprise, John Aldous found MacDonald awake when he arrived at the +camp in the thickly timbered coulee. He was preparing a midnight cup of +coffee over a fire that was burning cheerfully between two big rocks. +Purposely Aldous stepped out into the full illumination of it. The old +hunter looked up. For a moment he stared into the blood-smeared face of his +friend; then he sprang to his feet, and caught him by the arm. + +"Yes, I got it," nodded Aldous cheerfully. "I went out for it, Mac, and I +got it! Get out your emergency kit, will you? I rather fancy I need a +little patching up." + +MacDonald uttered not a word. From the balsam lean-to he brought out a +small rubber bag and a towel. Into a canvas wash-basin he then turned a +half pail of cold water, and Aldous got on his knees beside this. Not once +did the old mountaineer speak while he was washing the blood from Aldous' +face and hands. There was a shallow two-inch cut in his forehead, two +deeper ones in his right cheek, and a gouge in his chin. There were a dozen +cuts on his hands, none of them serious. Before he had finished MacDonald +had used two thirds of a roll of court-plaster. + +Then he spoke. + +"You can soak them off in the morning," he said. "If you don't, the lady'll +think yo're a red Indian on the warpath. Now, yo' fool, what have yo' gone +an' done?" + +Aldous told him what had happened, and before MacDonald could utter an +expression of his feelings he admitted that he was an inexcusable idiot and +that nothing MacDonald might say could drive that fact deeper home. + +"If I'd come out after hearing what they had to say, we could have got +DeBar at the end of a gun and settled the whole business," he finished. "As +it is, we're in a mess." + +MacDonald stretched his gaunt gray frame before the fire. He picked up his +long rifle, and fingered the lock. + +"You figger they'll get away with DeBar?" + +"Yes, to-night." + +MacDonald threw open the breech of his single-loader and drew out a +cartridge as long as his finger. Replacing it, he snapped the breech shut. + +"Don't know as I'm pertic'lar sad over what's happened," he said, with a +curious look at Aldous. "We might have got out of this without what you +call strenu'us trouble. Now--it's _fight!_ It's goin' to be a matter of +guns an' bullets, Johnny--back in the mountains. You figger Rann an' the +snake of a half-breed'll get the start of us. Let 'em have a start! They've +got two hundred miles to go, an' two hundred miles to come back. Only--they +won't come back!" + +Under his shaggy brows the old hunter's eyes gleamed as he looked at +Aldous. + +"To-morrow we'll go to the grave," he added. "Yo're cur'ous to know what's +goin' to happen when we find that grave, Johnny. So am I. I hope----" + +"What do you hope?" + +MacDonald shook his great gray head in the dying firelight. + +"Let's go to bed, Johnny," he rumbled softly in his beard. "It's gettin' +late." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +To sleep after the excitement through which he had passed, and with +to-morrow's uncertainties ahead of him, seemed to Aldous a physical +impossibility. Yet he slept, and soundly. It was MacDonald who roused him +three hours later. They prepared a quick breakfast over a small fire, and +Aldous heated water in which he soaked his face until the strips of +court-plaster peeled off. The scratches were lividly evident, but, inasmuch +as he had a choice of but two evils, he preferred that Joanne should see +these instead of the abominable disfigurement of court-plaster strips. + +Old Donald took one look at him through half-closed eyes. + +"You look as though you'd come out of a tussle with a grizzly," he grinned. +"Want some fresh court-plaster?" + +"And look as though I'd come out of a circus--no!" retorted Aldous. "I'm +invited to breakfast at the Blacktons', Mac. How the devil am I going to +get out of it?" + +"Tell 'em you're sick," chuckled the old hunter, who saw something funny in +the appearance of Aldous' face. "Good Lord, how I'd liked to have seen you +come through that window--in daylight!" + +Aldous led off in the direction of the trail. MacDonald followed close +behind him. It was dark--that almost ebon-black hour that precedes summer +dawn in the northern mountains. The moon had long ago disappeared in the +west. When a few minutes later they paused in the little opening on the +trail Aldous could just make out the shadowy form of the old mountaineer. + +"I lost my gun when I jumped through the window, Mac," he explained. +"There's another thirty-eight automatic in my kit at the corral. Bring +that, and the .303 with the gold-bead sight--and plenty of ammunition. +You'd better take that forty-four hip-cannon of yours along, as well as +your rifle. Wish I could civilize you, Mac, so you'd carry one of the +Savage automatics instead of that old brain-storm of fifty years ago!" + +MacDonald gave a grunt of disgust that was like the whoof of a bear. + +"It's done business all that time," he growled good humouredly. "An' it +ain't ever made me jump through any window as I remember of, Johnny!" + +"Enough," said Aldous, and in the gloom he gripped the other's hand. +"You'll be there, Mac--in front of the Blacktons'--just as it's growing +light?" + +"That means in three quarters of an hour, Johnny. I'll be there. Three +saddle-horses and a pack." + +Where the trail divided they separated. Aldous went directly to the +Blacktons'. As he had expected, the bungalow was alight. In the kitchen he +saw Tom, the Oriental cook, busy preparing breakfast. Blackton himself, +comfortably dressed in duck trousers and a smoking-jacket, and puffing on a +pipe, opened the front door for him. The pipe almost fell from his mouth +when he saw his friend's excoriated face. + +"What in the name of Heaven!" he gasped. + +"An accident," explained Aldous, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. +"Blackton, I want you to do me another good turn. Tell the ladies anything +you can think of--something reasonable. The truth is, I went through a +window--a window with plenty of glass in it. Now how the deuce can I +explain going through a window like a gentleman?" + +With folded arms, Blackton inspected him thoughtfully for a moment. + +"You can't," he said. "But I don't think you went through a window. I +believe you fell over a cliff and were caught in an armful of wait-a-bit +bushes. They're devilish those wait-a-bits!" + +They shook hands. + +"I'm ready to blow up with curiosity again," said Blackton. "But I'll play +your game, Aldous." + +A few minutes later Joanne and Peggy Blackton joined them. He saw again the +quick flush of pleasure in Joanne's lovely face when she entered the room. +It changed instantly when she saw the livid cuts in his skin. She came to +him quickly, and gave him her hand. Her lips trembled, but she did not +speak. Blackton accepted this as the psychological moment. + +"What do you think of a man who'll wander off a trail, tumble over a ledge, +and get mixed up in a bunch of wait-a-bit like _that?_" he demanded, +laughing as though he thought it a mighty good joke on Aldous. "Wait-a-bit +thorns are worse than razors, Miss Gray," he elucidated further. +"They're--they're perfectly devilish, you know!" + +"Indeed they _are_," emphasized Peggy Blackton, whom her husband had given +a quick look and a quicker nudge, "They're dreadful!" + +Looking straight into Joanne's eyes, Aldous guessed that she did not +believe, and scarcely heard, the Blacktons. + +"I had a presentiment something was going to happen," she said, smiling at +him. "I'm glad it was no worse than that." + +She withdrew her hand, and turned to Peggy Blackton. To John's delight she +had arranged her wonderful shining hair in a braid that rippled in a thick, +sinuous rope of brown and gold below her hips. Peggy Blackton had in some +way found a riding outfit for her slender figure, a typical mountain +outfit, with short divided skirt, loose blouse, and leggings. She had never +looked more beautiful to him. Her night's rest had restored the colour to +her soft cheeks and curved lips; and in her eyes, when she looked at him +again, there was a strange, glowing light that thrilled him. During the +next half-hour he almost forgot his telltale disfigurements. At breakfast +Paul and Peggy Blackton were beautifully oblivious of them. Once or twice +he saw in Joanne's clear eyes a look which made him suspect that she had +guessed very near to the truth. + +MacDonald was prompt to the minute. Gray day, with its bars of golden tint, +was just creeping over the shoulders of the eastern mountains when he rode +up to the Blacktons'. The old hunter was standing close to the horse which +Joanne was to ride when Aldous brought her out. Joanne gave him her hand, +and for a moment MacDonald bowed his shaggy head over it. Five minutes +later they were trailing up the rough wagon-road, MacDonald in the lead, +and Joanne and Aldous behind, with the single pack horse between. + +For several miles this wagon-trail reached back through the thick timber +that filled the bottom between the two ranges of mountains. They had +travelled but a short distance when Joanne drew her horse close in beside +Aldous. + +"I want to know what happened last night," she said. "Will you tell me?" + +Aldous met her eyes frankly. He had made up his mind that she would believe +only the truth, and he had decided to tell her at least a part of that. He +would lay his whole misadventure to the gold. Leaning over the pommel of +his saddle he recounted the occurrences of the night before, beginning with +his search for Quade and the half-breed, and his experience with the woman +who rode the bear. He left out nothing--except all mention of herself. He +described the events lightly, not omitting those parts which appealed to +him as being very near to comedy. + +In spite of his effort to rob the affair of its serious aspect his recital +had a decided effect upon Joanne. For some time after he had finished one +of her small gloved hands clutched tightly at the pommel of her saddle; her +breath came more quickly; the colour had ebbed from her cheeks, and she +looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes from meeting his. He began to +believe that in some way she was convinced he had not told her the whole +truth, and was possibly displeased, when she again turned her face to him. +It was tense and white. In it was the fear which, for a few minutes, she +had tried to keep from him. + +"They would have killed you?" she breathed. + +"Perhaps they would only have given me a good scare," said Aldous. "But I +didn't have time to wait and find out. I was very anxious to see MacDonald +again. So I went through the window!" + +"No, they would have killed you," said Joanne. "Perhaps I did wrong, Mr. +Aldous, but I confided--a little--in Peggy Blackton last night. She seemed +like a sister. I love her. And I wanted to confide in some one--a woman, +like her. It wasn't much, but I told her what happened at Miette: about +you, and Quade, and how I saw him at the station, and again--later, +following us. And then--she told me! Perhaps she didn't know how it was +frightening me, but she told me all about these men--Quade and Culver Rann. +And now I'm more afraid of Culver Rann than Quade, and I've never seen him. +They can't hurt me. But I'm afraid for you!" + +At her words a joy that was like the heat of a fire leaped into his brain. + +"For me?" he said. "Afraid--for me?" + +"Yes. Why shouldn't I be, if I know that you are in danger?" she asked +quietly. "And now, since last night, and the discovery of your secret by +these men, I am terrified. Quade has followed you here. Mrs. Blackton told +me that Culver Rann was many times more dangerous than Quade. Only a little +while ago you told me you did not care for riches. Then why do you go for +this gold? Why do you run the risk? Why----" + +He waited. The colour was flooding back into her face in an excited, +feverish flush. Her blue eyes were dark as thunder-clouds in their +earnestness. + +"Don't you understand?" she went on. "It was because of me that you +incurred this deadly enmity of Quade's. If anything happens to you, I shall +hold myself responsible!" + +"No, you will not be responsible," replied Aldous, steadying the tremble in +his voice. "Besides, nothing is going to happen. But you don't know how +happy you have made me by taking this sort of an interest in me. It--it +feels good," he laughed. + +For a few paces he dropped behind her, where the overhead spruce boughs +left but the space for a single rider between. Then, again, he drew up +close beside her. + +"I was going to tell you about this gold," he said. "It isn't the gold +we're going after." + +He leaned over until his hand rested on her saddle-bow. + +"Look ahead," he went on, a curious softness in his voice. "Look at +MacDonald!" + +The first shattered rays of the sun were breaking over the mountains and +reflecting their glow in the valley. Donald MacDonald had lifted his face +to the sunrise; out from under his battered hat the morning breeze sweeping +through the valley of the Frazer tossed his shaggy hair; his great owl-gray +beard swept his breast; his broad, gaunt shoulders were hunched a little +forward as he looked into the east. Again Aldous looked into Joanne's eyes. + +"It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me north, Ladygray. And +it's not the gold that is taking MacDonald. It is strange, almost +unbelievedly strange--what I am going to tell you. To-day we are seeking a +grave--for you. And up there, two hundred miles in the north, another grave +is calling MacDonald. I am going with him. It just happens that the gold is +there. You wouldn't guess that for more than forty years that blessed old +wanderer ahead of us has loved a dead woman, would you? You wouldn't think +that for nearly half a century, year in and year out, winter and summer +alike, he has tramped the northern mountains--a lost spirit with but one +desire in life--to find at last her resting-place? And yet it is so, +Ladygray. I guess I am the only living creature to whom he has opened his +heart in many a long year. A hundred times beside our campfire I have +listened to him, until at last his story seems almost to be a part of my +own. He may be a little mad, but it is a beautiful madness." + +He paused. + +"Yes," whispered Joanne. "Go on--John Aldous." + +"It's--hard to tell," he continued. "I can't put the feeling of it in +words, the spirit of it, the wonder of it. I've tried to write it, and I +couldn't. Her name was Jane. He has never spoken of her by any other name +than that, and I've never asked for the rest of it. They were kids when +their two families started West over the big prairies in Conestoga wagons. +They grew up sweethearts. Both of her parents, and his mother, died before +they were married. Then, a little later, his father died, and they were +alone. I can imagine what their love must have been. I have seen it still +living in his eyes, and I have seen it in his strange hour-long dreams +after he has talked of her. They were always together. He has told me how +they roamed the mountains hand in hand in their hunts; how she was comrade +and chum when he went prospecting. He has opened his lonely old heart to +me--a great deal. He's told me how they used to be alone for months at a +time in the mountains, the things they used to do, and how she would sing +for him beside their campfire at night. 'She had a voice sweet as an +angel,' I remember he told me once. Then, more than forty years ago, came +the gold-rush away up in the Stikine River country. They went. They joined +a little party of twelve--ten men and two women. This party wandered far +out of the beaten paths of the other gold-seekers. And at last they found +gold." + +Ahead of them Donald MacDonald had turned in his saddle and was looking +back. For a moment Aldous ceased speaking. + +"Please--go on!" said Joanne. + +"They found gold," repeated Aldous. "They found so much of it, Ladygray, +that some of them went mad--mad as beasts. It was placer gold--loose gold, +and MacDonald says that one day he and Jane filled their pockets with +nuggets. Then something happened. A great storm came; a storm that filled +the mountains with snow through which no living creature as heavy as a man +or a horse could make its way. It came a month earlier than they had +expected, and from the beginning they were doomed. Their supplies were +almost gone. + +"I can't tell you the horrors of the weeks and months that followed, as old +Donald has told them to me, Joanne. You must imagine. Only, when you are +deep in the mountains, and the snow comes, you are like a rat in a trap. So +they were caught--eleven men and three women. They who could make their +beds in sheets of yellow gold, but who had no food. The horses were lost in +the storm. Two of their frozen carcasses were found and used for food. Two +of the men set out on snowshoes, leaving their gold behind, and probably +died. + +"Then the first terrible thing happened. Two men quarrelled over a can of +beans, and one was killed. He was the husband of one of the women. The next +terrible thing happened to her--and there was a fight. On one side there +were young Donald and the husband of the other woman; on the other +side--the beasts. The husband was killed, and Donald and Jane sought refuge +in the log cabin they had built. That night they fled, taking what little +food they possessed, and what blankets they could carry. They knew they +were facing death. But they went together, hand in hand. + +"At last Donald found a great cave in the side of a mountain. I have a +picture of that cave in my brain--a deep, warm cave, with a floor of soft +white sand, a cave into which the two exhausted fugitives stumbled, still +hand in hand, and which was home. But they found it a little too late. +Three days later Jane died. And there is another picture in my brain--a +picture of young Donald sitting there in the cave, clasping in his arms the +cold form of the one creature in the world that he loved; moaning and +sobbing over her, calling upon her to come back to life, to open her eyes, +to speak to him--until at last his brain cracked and he went mad. That is +what happened. He went mad." + +Joanne's breath was coming brokenly through her lips. Unconsciously she had +clasped her fingers about the hand Aldous rested on her pommel. + +"How long he remained in the cave with his dead, MacDonald has never been +able to say," he resumed. + +"He doesn't know whether he buried his wife or left her lying on the sand +floor of the cave. He doesn't know how he got out of the mountains. But he +did, and his mind came back. And since then, Joanne--for a matter of forty +years--his life has been spent in trying to find that cave. All those years +his search was unavailing. He could find no trace of the little hidden +valley in which the treasure-seekers found their bonanza of gold. No word +of it ever came out of the mountains; no other prospector ever stumbled +upon it. Year after year Donald went into the North; year after year he +came out as the winter set in, but he never gave up hope. + +"Then he began spending winter as well as summer in that forgotten +world--forgotten because the early gold-rush was over, and the old +Telegraph trail was travelled more by wolves than men. And always, Donald +has told me, his beloved Jane's spirit was with him in his wanderings over +the mountains, her hand leading him, her voice whispering to him in the +loneliness of the long nights. Think of it, Joanne! Forty years of that! +Forty years of a strange, beautiful madness, forty years of undying love, +of faith, of seeking and never finding! And this spring old Donald came +almost to the end of his quest. He knows, now; he knows where that little +treasure valley is hidden in the mountains, he knows where to find the +cave!" + +"He found her--he found her?" she cried. "After all those years--he found +her?" + +"Almost," said Aldous softly. "But the great finale in the tragedy of +Donald MacDonald's life is yet to come, Ladygray. It will come when once +more he stands in the soft white sand of that cavern floor, and sometimes +I tremble when I think that when that moment comes I will be at his side. +To me it will be terrible. To him it will be--what? That hour has not quite +arrived. It happened this way: Old Donald was coming down from the North on +the early slush snows this spring when he came to a shack in which a man +was almost dead of the smallpox. It was DeBar, the half-breed. + +"Fearlessly MacDonald nursed him. He says it was God who sent him to that +shack. For DeBar, in his feverish ravings, revealed the fact that he had +stumbled upon that little Valley of Gold for which MacDonald had searched +through forty years. Old Donald knew it was the same valley, for the +half-breed raved of dead men, of rotting buckskin sacks of yellow nuggets, +of crumbling log shacks, and of other things the memories of which stabbed +like knives into Donald's heart. How he fought to save that man! And, at +last, he succeeded. + +"They continued south, planning to outfit and go back for the gold. They +would have gone back at once, but they had no food and no horses. Foot by +foot, in the weeks that followed, DeBar described the way to the hidden +valley, until at last MacDonald knew that he could go to it as straight as +an eagle to its nest. When they reached Tête Jaune he came to me. And I +promised to go with him, Ladygray--back to the Valley of Gold. He calls it +that; but I--I think of it as The Valley of Silent Men. It is not the gold, +but the cavern with the soft white floor that is calling us." + +In her saddle Joanne had straightened. Her head was thrown back, her lips +were parted, and her eyes shone as the eyes of a Joan of Arc must have +shone when she stood that day before the Hosts. + +"And this man, the half-breed, has sold himself--for a woman?" she said, +looking straight ahead at the bent shoulders of old MacDonald. + +"Yes, for a woman. Do you ask me why I go now? Why I shall fight, if +fighting there must be?" + +She turned to him. Her face was a blaze of glory. + +"No, no, no!" she cried. "Oh, John Aldous! if I were only a man, that I +might go with you and stand with you two in that Holy Sepulchre--the +Cavern----If I were a man, I'd go--and, yes, I would fight!" + +And Donald MacDonald, looking back, saw the two clasping hands across the +trail. A moment later he turned his horse from the broad road into a narrow +trail that led over the range. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +From the hour in which she had listened to the story of old MacDonald a +change seemed to have come over Joanne. It was as if she had risen out of +herself, out of whatever fear or grief she might have possessed in her own +heart. John Aldous knew that there was some deep significance in her visit +to the grave under the Saw Tooth Mountain, and that from the beginning she +had been fighting under a tremendous mental and physical strain. He had +expected this day would be a terrible day for her; he had seen her efforts +to strengthen herself for the approaching crisis that morning. He believed +that as they drew nearer to their journey's end her suspense and +uneasiness, the fear which she was trying to keep from him, would, in spite +of her, become more and more evident. For these reasons the change which he +saw in her was not only delightfully unexpected but deeply puzzling. She +seemed to be under the influence of some new and absorbing excitement. Her +cheeks were flushed. There was a different poise to her head; in her voice, +too, there was a note which he had not noticed before. + +It struck him, all at once, that this was a new Joanne--a Joanne who, at +least for a brief spell, had broken the bondage of oppression and fear that +had fettered her. In the narrow trail up the mountain he rode behind her, +and in this he found a pleasure even greater than when he rode at her +side. Only when her face was turned from him did he dare surrender himself +at all to the emotions which had transformed his soul. From behind he could +look at her, and worship without fear of discovery. Every movement of her +slender, graceful body gave him a new and exquisite thrill; every dancing +light and every darkening shadow in her shimmering hair added to the joy +that no fear or apprehension could overwhelm within him now. Only in those +wonderful moments, when her presence was so near, and yet her eyes did not +see him, could he submerge himself completely in the thought of what she +had become to him and of what she meant to him. + +During the first hour of their climb over the break that led into the +valley beyond they had but little opportunity for conversation. The trail +was an abandoned Indian path, narrow, and in places extremely steep. Twice +Aldous helped Joanne from her horse that she might travel afoot over places +which he considered dangerous. When he assisted her in the saddle again, +after a stiff ascent of a hundred yards, she was panting from her exertion, +and he felt the sweet thrill of her breath in his face. For a space his +happiness obliterated all thoughts of other things. It was MacDonald who +brought them back. + +They had reached the summit of the break, and through his long brass +telescope the old mountaineer was scanning the valley out of which they had +come. Under them lay Tête Jaune, gleaming in the morning sun, and it dawned +suddenly upon Aldous that this was the spot from which MacDonald had spied +upon his enemies. He looked at Joanne. She was breathing quickly as she +looked upon the wonder of the scene below them. Suddenly she turned, and +encountered his eyes. + +"They might--follow?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"No danger of that," he assured her. + +MacDonald had dismounted, and now he lay crouched behind a rock, with his +telescope resting over the top of it. He had leaned his long rifle against +the boulder; his huge forty-four, a relic of the old Indian days, hung at +his hip. Joanne saw these omens of preparedness, and her eyes shifted again +to Aldous. His .303 swung from his saddle. At his waist was the heavy +automatic. She smiled. In her eyes was understanding, and something like a +challenge. She did not question him again, but under her gaze Aldous +flushed. + +A moment later MacDonald closed his telescope and without a word mounted +his horse. Where the descent into the second valley began he paused again. +To the north through the haze of the morning sun gleamed the snow-capped +peaks of the Saw Tooth Range. Apparently not more than an hour's ride +distant rose a huge red sandstone giant which seemed to shut in the end of +the valley MacDonald stretched forth a long arm in its direction. + +"What we're seekin' is behind that mountain," he said. "It's ten miles from +here." He turned to the girl. "Are you gettin' lame, Mis' Joanne?" + +Aldous saw her lips tighten. + +"No. Let us go on, please." + +She was staring fixedly at the sombre red mass of the mountain. Her eyes +did not take in the magnificent sweep of the valley below. They saw +nothing of the snow-capped peaks beyond. There was something wild and +unnatural in their steady gaze. Aldous dropped behind her as they began the +gradual descent from the crest of the break and his own heart began to beat +more apprehensively; the old question flashed back upon him, and he felt +again the oppression that once before had held him in its grip. His eyes +did not leave Joanne. And always she was staring at the mountain behind +which lay the thing they were seeking! It was not Joanne herself that set +his blood throbbing. Her face had not paled. Its colour was like the hectic +flush of a fever. Her eyes alone betrayed her; their strange intensity--the +almost painful steadiness with which they hung to the distant mountain, and +a dread of what was to come seized upon him. Again he found himself asking +himself questions which he could not answer. Why had Joanne not confided +more fully in him? What was the deeper significance of this visit to the +grave, and of her mission in the mountains? + +Down the narrow Indian trail they passed into the thick spruce timber. Half +an hour later they came out into the grassy creek bottom of the valley. +During that time Joanne did not look behind her, and John Aldous did not +speak. MacDonald turned north, and the sandstone mountain was straight +ahead of them. It was not like the other mountains. There was something +sinister and sullen about it. It was ugly and broken. No vegetation grew +upon it, and through the haze of sunlight its barren sides and battlemented +crags gleamed a dark and humid red after the morning mists, as if freshly +stained with blood. Aldous guessed its effect upon Joanne, and he +determined to put an end to it. Again he rode up close beside her. + +"I want you to get better acquainted with old Donald," he said. "We're sort +of leaving him out in the cold, Ladygray. Do you mind if I tell him to come +back and ride with you for a while?" + +"I've been wanting to talk with him," she replied. "If you don't mind----" + +"I don't," he broke in quickly. "You'll love old Donald, Ladygray. And, if +you can, I'd like to have you tell him all that you know about--Jane. Let +him know that I told you." + +She nodded. Her lips trembled in a smile. + +"I will," she said. + +A moment later Aldous was telling MacDonald that Joanne wanted him. The old +mountaineer stared. He drew his pipe from his mouth, beat out its +half-burned contents, and thrust it into its accustomed pocket. + +"She wants to see me?" he asked. "God bless her soul--what for?" + +"Because she thinks you're lonesome up here alone, Mac. And look +here"--Aldous leaned over to MacDonald--"her nerves are ready to snap. I +know it. There's a mighty good reason why I can't relieve the strain she is +under. But you can. She's thinking every minute of that mountain up there +and the grave behind it. You go back, and talk. Tell her about the first +time you ever came up through these valleys--you and Jane. Will you, Mac? +Will you tell her that?" + +MacDonald did not reply, but he dropped behind. Aldous took up the lead. A +few minutes later he looked back, and laughed softly under his breath. +Joanne and the old hunter were riding side by side in the creek bottom, and +Joanne was talking. He looked at his watch. He did not look at it again +until the first gaunt, red shoulder of the sandstone mountain began to loom +over them. An hour had passed since he left Joanne. Ahead of him, perhaps a +mile distant, was the cragged spur beyond which--according to the sketch +Keller had drawn for him at the engineers' camp--was the rough canyon +leading back to the basin on the far side of the mountain. He had almost +reached this when MacDonald rode up. + +"You go back, Johnny," he said, a singular softness in his hollow voice. +"We're a'most there." + +He cast his eyes over the western peaks, where dark clouds were shouldering +their way up in the face of the sun, and added: + +"There's rain in that. I'll trot on ahead with Pinto and have a tent ready +when you come. I reckon it can't be more'n a mile up the canyon." + +"And the grave, Mac?" + +"Is right close to where I'll pitch the tent," said MacDonald, swinging +suddenly behind the pack-horse Pinto, and urging him into a trot. "Don't +waste any time, Johnny." + +Aldous rode back to Joanne. + +"It looks like rain," he explained. "These Pacific showers come up quickly +this side of the Divide, and they drench you in a jiffy. Donald is going on +ahead to put up a tent." + +By the time they reached the mouth of the canyon MacDonald was out of +sight. A little creek that was a swollen torrent in spring time trickled +out of the gorge. Its channel was choked with a chaotic confusion of +sandstone rock and broken slate, and up through this Aldous carefully +picked his way, followed closely by Joanne. The sky continued to darken +above them, until at last the sun died out, and a thick and almost palpable +gloom began to envelop them. Low thunder rolled through the mountains in +sullen, rumbling echoes. He looked back at Joanne, and was amazed to see +her eyes shining, and a smile on her lips as she nodded at him. + +"It makes me think of Henrik Hudson and his ten-pin players," she called +softly. "And ahead of us--is Rip Van Winkle!" + +The first big drops were beginning to fall when they came to an open place. +The gorge swung to the right; on their left the rocks gave place to a +rolling meadow of buffalo grass, and Aldous knew they had reached the +basin. A hundred yards up the slope was a fringe of timber, and as he +looked he saw smoke rising out of this. The sound of MacDonald's axe came +to them. He turned to Joanne, and he saw that she understood. They were at +their journey's end. Perhaps her fingers gripped her rein a little more +tightly. Perhaps it was imagination that made him think there was a slight +tremble in her voice when she said: + +"This--is the place?" + +"Yes. It should be just above the timber. I believe I can see the upper +break of the little box canyon Keller told me about." + +She rode without speaking until they entered the timber. They were just in +time. As he lifted her down from her horse the clouds opened, and the rain +fell in a deluge. Her hair was wet when he got her in the tent. MacDonald +had spread out a number of blankets, but he had disappeared. Joanne sank +down upon them with a little shiver. She looked up at Aldous. It was almost +dark in the tent, and her eyes were glowing strangely. Over them the +thunder crashed deafeningly. For a few minutes it was a continual roar, +shaking the mountains with mighty reverberations that were like the +explosions of giant guns. Aldous stood holding the untied flap against the +beat of the rain. Twice he saw Joanne's lips form words. At last he heard +her say: + +"Where is Donald?" + +He tied the flap, and dropped down on the edge of the blankets before he +answered her. + +"Probably out in the open watching the lightning, and letting the rain +drench him," he said. "I've never known old Donald to come in out of a +rain, unless it was cold. He was tying up the horses when I ran in here +with you." + +He believed she was shivering, yet he knew she was not cold. In the half +gloom of the tent he wanted to reach over and take her hand. + +For a few minutes longer there was no break in the steady downpour and the +crashing of the thunder. Then, as suddenly as the storm had broken, it +began to subside. Aldous rose and flung back the tent-flap. + +"It is almost over," he said. "You had better remain in the tent a little +longer, Ladygray. I will go out and see if MacDonald has succeeded in +drowning himself." + +Joanne did not answer, and Aldous stepped outside. He knew where to find +the old hunter. He had gone up to the end of the timber, and probably this +minute was in the little box canyon searching for the grave. It was a +matter of less than a hundred yards to the upper fringe of timber, and when +Aldous came out of this he stood on the summit of the grassy divide that +separated the tiny lake Keller had described from the canyon. It was less +than a rifle shot distant, and on the farther side of it MacDonald was +already returning. Aldous hurried down to meet him. He did not speak when +they met, but his companion answered the question in his eyes, while the +water dripped in streams from his drenched hair and beard. + +"It's there," he said, pointing back. "Just behind that big black rock. +There's a slab over it, an' you've got the name right. It's Mortimer +FitzHugh." + +Above them the clouds were splitting asunder. A shaft of sunlight broke +through, and as they stood looking over the little lake the shaft +broadened, and the sun swept in golden triumph over the mountains. +MacDonald beat his limp hat against his knee, and with his other hand +drained the water from his beard. + +"What you goin' to do?" he asked. + +Aldous turned toward the timber. Joanne herself answered the question. She +was coming up the slope. In a few moments she stood beside them. First she +looked down upon the lake. Then her eyes turned to Aldous. There was no +need for speech. He held out his hand, and without hesitation she gave him +her own. MacDonald understood. He walked down ahead of them toward the +black rock. When he came to the rock he paused. Aldous and Joanne passed +him. Then they, too, stopped, and Aldous freed the girl's hand. + +With an unexpectedness that was startling they had come upon the grave. Yet +not a sound escaped Joanne's lips. Aldous could not see that she was +breathing. Less than ten paces from them was the mound, protected by its +cairn of stones; and over the stones rose a weather-stained slab in the +form of a cross. One glance at the grave and Aldous riveted his eyes upon +Joanne. For a full minute she stood as motionless as though the last breath +had left her body. Then, slowly, she advanced. He could not see her face. +He followed, quietly, step by step as she moved. For another minute she +leaned over the slab, making out the fine-seared letters of the name. Her +body was bent forward; her two hands were clenched tightly at her side. +Even more slowly than she had advanced she turned toward Aldous and +MacDonald. Her face was dead white. She lifted her hands to her breast, and +clenched them there. + +"It is his name," she said, and there was something repressed and terrible +in her low voice. "It is his name!" + +She was looking straight into the eyes of John Aldous, and he saw that she +was fighting to say something which she had not spoken. Suddenly she came +to him, and her two hands caught his arm. + +"It is terrible--what I am going to ask of you," she struggled. "You will +think I am a ghoul. But I must have proof! I must--I must!" + +She was staring wildly at him, and all at once there leapt fiercely through +him a dawning of the truth. The name was there, seared by hot iron in that +slab of wood. The name! But under the cairn of stones---- + +Behind them MacDonald had heard. He towered beside them now. His great +mountain-twisted hands drew Joanne a step back, and strange gentleness was +in his voice as he said: + +"You an' Johnny go back an' build a fire, Mis' Joanne. I'll find the +proof!" + +"Come," said Aldous, and he held out his hand again. + +MacDonald hurried on ahead of them. When they reached the camp he was gone, +so that Joanne did not see the pick and shovel which he carried back. She +went into the tent and Aldous began building a fire where MacDonald's had +been drowned out. There was little reason for a fire; but he built it, and +for fifteen minutes added pitch-heavy fagots of storm-killed jack-pine and +spruce to it, until the flames leapt a dozen feet into the air. Half a +dozen times he was impelled to return to the grave and assist MacDonald in +his gruesome task. But he knew that MacDonald had meant that he should stay +with Joanne. If he returned, she might follow. + +He was surprised at the quickness with which MacDonald performed his work. +Not more than half an hour had passed when a low whistle drew his eyes to a +clump of dwarf spruce back in the timber. The mountaineer was standing +there, holding something in his hand. With a backward glance to see that +Joanne had not come from the tent, Aldous hastened to him. What he could +see of MacDonald's face was the lifeless colour of gray ash. His eyes +stared as if he had suffered a strange and unexpected shock. He went to +speak, but no words came through his beard. In his hand he held his faded +red neck-handkerchief. He gave it to Aldous. + +"It wasn't deep," he said. "It was shallow, turribly shallow, Johnny--just +under the stone!" + +His voice was husky and unnatural. + +There was something heavy in the handkerchief, and a shudder passed through +Aldous as he placed it on the palm of his hand and unveiled its contents. +He could not repress an exclamation when he saw what MacDonald had brought. +In his hand, with a single thickness of the wet handkerchief between the +objects and his flesh, lay a watch and a ring. The watch was of gold. It +was tarnished, but he could see there were initials, which he could not +make out, engraved on the back of the case. The ring, too, was of gold. It +was one of the most gruesome ornaments Aldous had ever seen. It was in the +form of a coiled and writhing serpent, wide enough to cover half of one's +middle finger between the joints. Again the eyes of the two men met, and +again Aldous observed that strange, stunned look in the old hunter's face. +He turned and walked back toward the tent, MacDonald following him slowly, +still staring, his long gaunt arms and hands hanging limply at his side. + +Joanne heard them, and came out of the tent. A choking cry fell from her +lips when she saw MacDonald. For a moment one of her hands clutched at the +wet canvas of the tent, and then she swayed forward, knowing what John +Aldous had in his hand. He stood voiceless while she looked. In that tense +half-minute when she stared at the objects he held it seemed to him that +her heart-strings must snap under the strain. Then she drew back from +them, her eyes filled with horror, her hands raised as if to shut out the +sight of them, and a panting, sobbing cry broke from between her pallid +lips. + +"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "Take them away--take them away!" + +She staggered back to the tent, and stood there with her hands covering her +face. Aldous turned to the old hunter and gave him the things he held. + +A moment later he stood alone where the three had been, staring now as +Joanne had stared, his heart beating wildly. + +For Joanne, in entering the tent, had uncovered her face; it was not grief +that he saw there, but the soul of a woman new-born. And as his own soul +responded in a wild rejoicing, MacDonald, going over the summit and down +into the hollow, mumbled in his beard: + +"God ha' mercy on me! I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny, an' because she's +like my Jane!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Plunged from one extreme of mental strain to another excitement that was as +acute in its opposite effect, John Aldous stood and stared at the tent-flap +that had dropped behind Joanne. Only a flash he had caught of her face; but +in that flash he had seen the living, quivering joyousness of freedom +blazing where a moment before there had been only horror and fear. As if +ashamed of her own betrayal, Joanne had darted into the tent. She had +answered his question a thousand times more effectively than if she had +remained to tell him with her lips that MacDonald's proofs were +sufficient--that the grave in the little box canyon had not disappointed +her. She had recognized the ring and the watch; from them she had shrank in +horror, as if fearing that the golden serpent might suddenly leap into life +and strike. + +In spite of the mightiest efforts she might have made for self-control +Aldous had seen in her tense and tortured face a look that was more than +either dread or shock--it was abhorrence, hatred. And his last glimpse of +her face had revealed those things gone, and in their place the strange joy +she had run into the tent to hide. That she should rejoice over the dead, +or that the grim relics from the grave should bring that new dawn into her +face and eyes, did not strike him as shocking. In Joanne his sun had +already begun to rise and set. He had come to understand that for her the +grave must hold its dead; that the fact of death, death under the slab that +bore Mortimer FitzHugh's name, meant life for her, just as it meant life +and all things for him. He had prayed for it, even while he dreaded that it +might not be. In him all things were now submerged in the wild thought that +Joanne was free, and the grave had been the key to her freedom. + +A calmness began to possess him that was in singular contrast to the +perturbed condition of his mind a few minutes before. From this hour Joanne +was his to fight for, to win if he could; and, knowing this, his soul rose +in triumph above his first physical exultation, and he fought back the +almost irresistible impulse to follow her into the tent and tell her what +this day had meant for him. Following this came swiftly a realization of +what it had meant for her--the suspense, the terrific strain, the final +shock and gruesome horror of it. He was sure, without seeing, that she was +huddled down on the blankets in the tent. She had passed through an ordeal +under which a strong man might have broken, and the picture he had of her +struggle in there alone turned him from the tent filled with a +determination to make her believe that the events of the morning, both with +him and MacDonald, were easily forgotten. + +He began to whistle as he threw back the wet canvas from over the camp +outfit that had been taken from Pinto's back. In one of the two cow-hide +panniers he saw that thoughtful old Donald had packed materials for their +dinner, as well as utensils necessary for its preparation. That dinner they +would have in the valley, well beyond the red mountain. He began to repack, +whistling cheerily. He was still whistling when MacDonald returned. He +broke off sharply when he saw the other's face. + +"What's the matter, Mac?" he asked. "You sick?" + +"It weren't pleasant, Johnny." + +Aldous nodded toward the tent. + +"It was--beastly," he whispered. "But we can't let her feel that way about +it, Mac. Cheer up--and let's get out of this place. We'll have dinner +somewhere over in the valley." + +They continued packing until only the tent remained to be placed on Pinto's +back. Aldous resumed his loud whistling as he tightened up the +saddle-girths, and killed time in half a dozen other ways. A quarter of an +hour passed. Still Joanne did not appear. Aldous scratched his head +dubiously, and looked at the tent. + +"I don't want to disturb her, Mac," he said in a low voice. "Let's keep up +the bluff of being busy. We can put out the fire." + +Ten minutes later, sweating and considerably smokegrimed, Aldous again +looked toward the tent. + +"We might cut down a few trees," suggested MacDonald. + +"Or play leap-frog," added Aldous. + +"The trees'd sound more natcherel," said MacDonald. "We could tell her----" + +A stick snapped behind them. Both turned at the same instant. Joanne stood +facing them not ten feet away. + +"Great Scott!" gasped Aldous. "Joanne, I thought you were in the tent!" + +The beautiful calmness in Joanne's face amazed him. He stared at her as he +spoke, forgetting altogether the manner in which he had intended to greet +her when she came from the tent. + +"I went out the back way--lifted the canvas and crawled under just like a +boy," she explained. "And I've walked until my feet are wet." + +"And the fire is out!" + +"I don't mind wet feet," she hurried to assure him. + +Old Donald was already at work pulling the tent-pegs. Joanne came close to +Aldous, and he saw again that deep and wonderful light in her eyes. This +time he knew that she meant he should see it, and words which he had +determined not to speak fell softly from his lips. + +"You are no longer afraid, Ladygray? That which you dreaded----" + +"Is dead," she said. "And you, John Aldous? Without knowing, seeing me only +as you have seen me, do you think that I am terrible?" + +"No, could not think that." + +Her hand touched his arm. + +"Will you go out there with me, in the sunlight, where we can look down +upon the little lake?" she asked. "Until to-day I had made up my mind that +no one but myself would ever know the truth. But you have been good to me, +and I must tell you--about myself--about him." + +He found no answer. He left no word with MacDonald. Until they stood on the +grassy knoll, with the lakelet shimmering in the sunlight below them, +Joanne herself did not speak again. Then, with a little gesture, she said: + +"Perhaps you think what is down there is dreadful to me. It isn't. I shall +always remember that little lake, almost as Donald remembers the +cavern--not because it watches over something I love, but because it guards +a thing that in life would have destroyed me! I know how you must feel, +John Aldous--that deep down in your heart you must wonder at a woman who +can rejoice in the death of another human creature. Yet death, and death +alone, has been the key from bondage of millions of souls that have lived +before mine; and there are men--men, too--whose lives have been warped and +destroyed because death did not come to save them. One was my father. If +death had come for him, if it had taken my mother, that down there would +never have happened--for me!" + +She spoke the terrible words so quietly, so calmly, that it was impossible +for him entirely to conceal their effect upon him. There was a bit of +pathos in her smile. + +"My mother drove my father mad," she went on, with a simple directness that +was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard come from human lips. "The +world did not know that he was mad. It called him eccentric. But he was +mad--in just one way. I was nine years old when it happened, and I can +remember our home most vividly. It was a beautiful home. And my father! +Need I tell you that I worshipped him--that to me he was king of all men? +And as deeply as I loved him, so, in another way, he worshipped my mother. +She was beautiful. In a curious sort of way I used to wonder, as a child, +how it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful. It was a dark beauty--a +recurrence of French strain in her English blood. + +"One day I overheard my father tell her that, if she died, he would kill +himself. He was not of the passionate, over-sentimental kind; he was a +philosopher, a scientist, calm and self-contained--and I remembered those +words later, when I had outgrown childhood, as one of a hundred proofs of +how devoutly he had loved her. It was more than love, I believe. It was +adoration. I was nine, I say, when things happened. Another man, a divorce, +and on the day of the divorce this woman, my mother, married her lover. +Somewhere in my father's brain a single thread snapped, and from that day +he was mad--mad on but one subject; and so deep and intense was his madness +that it became a part of me as the years passed, and to-day I, too, am +possessed of that madness. And it is the one greatest thing in the world +that I am proud of, John Aldous!" + +Not once had her voice betrayed excitement or emotion. Not once had it +risen above its normal tone; and in her eyes, as they turned from the lake +to him, there was the tranquillity of a child. + +"And that madness," she resumed, "was the madness of a man whose brain and +soul were overwrought in one colossal hatred--a hatred of divorce and the +laws that made it possible. It was born in him in a day, and it lived until +his death. It turned him from the paths of men, and we became wanderers +upon the face of the earth. Two years after the ruin of our home my mother +and the man she had married died in a ship that was lost at sea. This had +no effect upon my father. Possibly you will not understand what grew up +between us in the years and years that followed. To the end he was a +scientist, a man seeking after the unknown, and my education came to be a +composite of teachings gathered in all parts of the world. We were never +apart. We were more than father and daughter; we were friends, +comrades--he was my world, and I was his. + +"I recall, as I became older, how his hatred of that thing that had broken +our home developed more and more strongly in me. His mind was titanic. A +thousand times I pleaded with him to employ it in the great fight I wanted +him to make--a fight against the crime divorce. I know, now, why he did +not. He was thinking of me. Only one thing he asked of me. It was more than +a request. It was a command. And this command, and my promise, was that so +long as I lived--no matter what might happen in my life--I would sacrifice +myself body and soul sooner than allow that black monster of divorce to +fasten its clutches on me. It is futile for me to tell you these things, +John Aldous. It is impossible--you cannot understand!" + +"I can," he replied, scarcely above a whisper. "Joanne, I begin--to +understand!" + +And still without emotion, her voice as calm as the unruffled lake at their +feet, she continued: + +"It grew in me. It is a part of me now. I hate divorce as I hate the worst +sin that bars one from Heaven. It is the one thing I hate. And it is +because of this hatred that I suffered myself to remain the wife of the man +whose name is over that grave down there--Mortimer FitzHugh. It came about +strangely--what I am going to tell you now. You will wonder. You will think +I was insane. But remember, John Aldous--the world had come to hold but one +friend and comrade for me, and he was my father. It was after Mindano. He +caught the fever, and he was dying." + +For the first time her breath choked her. It was only for an instant. She +recovered herself, and went on: + +"Out of the world my father had left he had kept one friend--Richard +FitzHugh; and this man, with his son, was with us during those terrible +days of fever. I met Mortimer as I had met a thousand other men. His +father, I thought, was the soul of honour, and I accepted the son as such. +We were much together during those two weeks of my despair, and he seemed +to be attentive and kind. Then came the end. My father was dying. And I--I +was ready to die. In his last moments his one thought was of me. He knew I +was alone, and the fear of it terrified him. I believe he did not realize +then what he was asking of me. He pleaded with me to marry the son of his +old friend before he died. And I--John Aldous, I could not fight his last +wish as he lay dying before my eyes. We were married there at his bedside. +He joined our hands. And the words he whispered to me last of all were: +'Remember--Joanne--thy promise and thine honour!'" + +For a moment Joanne stood facing the little lake, and when she spoke again +there was a note of thankfulness, of subdued joy and triumph, in her voice. + +"Before that day had ended I had displeased Mortimer FitzHugh," she said, +and Aldous saw the fingers of her hands close tightly. "I told him that +until a month had passed I would not live with him as a wife lives with her +husband. And he was displeased. And my father was not yet buried! I was +shocked. My soul revolted. + +"We went to London and I was made welcome in the older FitzHugh's wifeless +home, and the papers told of our wedding. And two days later there came +from Devonshire a woman--a sweet-faced little woman with sick, haunted +eyes; in her arms she brought a baby; and that baby _was Mortimer +FitzHugh's!_ + +"We confronted him--the mother, the baby, and I; and then I knew that he +was a fiend. And the father was a fiend. They offered to buy the woman off, +to support her and the child. They told me that many English gentlemen had +made mistakes like this, and that it was nothing--that it was quite common. +Mortimer FitzHugh had never touched me with his lips, and now, when he came +to touch me with his hands, I struck him. It was a serpent's house, and I +left it. + +"My father had left me a comfortable fortune, and I went into a house of my +own. Day after day they came to me, and I knew that they feared I was going +to secure a divorce. During the six months that followed I learned other +things about the man who was legally my husband. He was everything that was +vile. Brazenly he went into public places with women of dishonour, and I +hid my face in shame. + +"His father died, and for a time Mortimer FitzHugh became one of the +talked-about spendthrifts of London. Swiftly he gambled and dissipated +himself into comparative poverty. And now, learning that I would not get a +divorce, he began to regard me as a slave in chains. I remember, one time, +that he succeeded in laying his hands on me, and they were like the touch +of things that were slimy and poisonous. He laughed at my revulsion. He +demanded money of me, and to keep him away from me I gave it to him. Again +and again he came for money; I suffered as I cannot tell you, but never +once in my misery did I weaken in my promise to my father and to myself. +But--at last--I ran away. + +"I went to Egypt, and then to India. A year later I learned that Mortimer +FitzHugh had gone to America, and I returned to London. For two years I +heard nothing of him; but day and night I lived in fear and dread. And then +came the news that he had died, as you read in the newspaper clipping. I +was free! For a year I believed that; and then, like a shock that had come +to destroy me, I was told that he _was not dead_ but that he was alive, and +in a place called Tête Jaune Cache, in British Columbia. I could not live +in the terrible suspense that followed. I determined to find out for myself +if he was alive or dead. And so I came, John Aldous. And he is dead. He is +down there--dead. And I am glad that he is dead!" + +"And if he was not dead," said Aldous quietly, "I would kill him!" + +He could find nothing more to say than that. He dared trust himself no +further, and in silence he held out his hands, and for a moment Joanne gave +him her own. Then she withdrew them, and with a little gesture, and the +smile which he loved to see trembling about her mouth, she said: + +"Donald will think this is scandalous. We must go back and apologize!" + +She led him down the slope, and her face was filled with the pink flush of +a wild rose when she ran up to Donald, and asked him to help her into her +saddle. John Aldous rode like one in a dream as they went back into the +valley, for with each minute that passed Joanne seemed more and more to +him like a beautiful bird that had escaped from its prison-cage, and in him +mind and soul were absorbed in the wonder of it and in his own rejoicing. +She was free, and in her freedom she was happy! + +Free! It was that thought that pounded steadily in his brain. He forgot +Quade, and Culver Rann, and the gold; he forgot his own danger, his own +work, almost his own existence. Of a sudden the world had become +infinitesimally small for him, and all he could see was the soft shimmer of +Joanne's hair in the sun, the wonder of her face, the marvellous blue of +her eyes--and all he could hear was the sweet thrill of her voice when she +spoke to him or old Donald, and when, now and then, soft laughter trembled +on her lips in the sheer joy of the life that had dawned anew for her this +day. + +They stopped for dinner, and then went on over the range and down into the +valley where lay Tête Jaune. And all this time he fought to keep from +flaming in his own face the desire that was like a hot fire within him--the +desire to go to Joanne and tell her that he loved her as he had never +dreamed it possible for love to exist in the whole wide world. He knew that +to surrender to that desire in this hour would be something like sacrilege. +He did not guess that Joanne saw his struggle, that even old MacDonald +mumbled low words in his beard. When they came at last to Blackton's +bungalow he thought that he had kept this thing from her, and he did not +see--and would not have understood if he had seen--the wonderful and +mysterious glow in Joanne's eyes when she kissed Peggy Blackton. + +Blackton had come in from the work-end, dust-covered and jubilant. + +"I'm glad you folks have returned," he cried, beaming with enthusiasm as he +gripped Aldous by the hand. "The last rock is packed, and to-night we're +going to shake the earth. We're going to blow up Coyote Number +Twenty-seven, and you won't forget the sight as long as you live!" + +Not until Joanne had disappeared into the house with Peggy Blackton did +Aldous feel that he had descended firmly upon his feet once more into a +matter-of-fact world. MacDonald was waiting with the horses, and Blackton +was pointing over toward the steel workers, and was saying something about +ten thousand pounds of black powder and dynamite and a mountain that had +stood a million years and was going to be blown up that night. + +"It's the best bit of work I've ever done, Aldous--that and Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. Peggy was going to touch the electric button to Twenty-seven +to-night, but we've decided to let Miss Gray do that, and Peggy'll fire +Twenty-eight to-morrow night. Twenty-eight is almost ready. If you say so, +the bunch of us will go over and see it in the morning. Mebby Miss Gray +would like to see for herself that a coyote isn't only an animal with a +bushy tail, but a cavern dug into rock an' filled with enough explosives to +play high jinks with all the navies in the world if they happened to be on +hand at the time. What do you say?" + +"Fine!" said Aldous. + +"And Peggy wants me to say that it's a matter of only common, every-day +decency on your part to make yourself our guest while here," added the +contractor, stuffing his pipe. "We've got plenty of room, enough to eat, +and a comfortable bed for you. You're going to be polite enough to accept, +aren't you?" + +"With all my heart," exclaimed Aldous, his blood tingling at the thought of +being near Joanne. "I've got some business with MacDonald and as soon as +that's over I'll domicile myself here. It's bully of you, Blackton! You +know----" + +"Why, dammit, of course I know!" chuckled Blackton, lighting his pipe. +"Can't I see, Aldous? D'ye think I'm blind? I was just as gone over Peggy +before I married her. Fact is, I haven't got over it yet--and never will. I +come up from the work four times a day regular to see her, and if I don't +come I have to send up word I'm safe. Peggy saw it first. She said it was a +shame to put you off in that cabin with Miss Gray away up here. I don't +want to stick my nose in your business, old man, but--by George!--I +congratulate you! I've only seen one lovelier woman in my life, and that's +Peggy." + +He thrust out a hand and pumped his friend's limp arm, and Aldous felt +himself growing suddenly warm under the other's chuckling gaze. + +"For goodness sake don't say anything, or act anything, old man," he +pleaded. "I'm--just--hoping." + +Blackton nodded with prodigious understanding in his eyes. + +"Come along when you get through with MacDonald," he said. "I'm going in +and clean up for to-night's fireworks." + +A question was in Aldous' mind, but he did not put it in words. He wanted +to know about Quade and Culver Rann. + +"Blackton is such a ridiculously forgetful fellow at times that I don't +want to rouse his alarm," he said to MacDonald as they were riding toward +the corral a few minutes later. "He might let something out to Joanne and +his wife, and I've got reasons--mighty good reasons, Mac--for keeping this +affair as quiet as possible. We'll have to discover what Rann and Quade are +doing ourselves." + +MacDonald edged his horse in nearer to Aldous. + +"See here, Johnny, boy--tell me what's in your mind?" + +Aldous looked into the grizzled face, and there was something in the glow +of the old mountaineer's eyes that made him think of a father. + +"You know, Mac." + +Old Donald nodded. + +"Yes, I guess I do, Johnny," he said in a low voice. "You think of Mis' +Joanne as I used to--to--think of _her_. I guess I know. But--what you +goin' to do?" + +Aldous shook his head, and for the first time that afternoon a look of +uneasiness and gloom overspread his face. + +"I don't know, Mac. I'm not ashamed to tell you. I love her. If she were to +pass out of my life to-morrow I would ask for something that belonged to +her, and the spirit of her would live in it for me until I died. That's how +I care, Mac. But I've known her such a short time. I can't tell her yet. It +wouldn't be the square thing. And yet she won't remain in Tête Jaune very +long. Her mission is accomplished. And if--if she goes I can't very well +follow her, can I, Mac?" + +For a space old Donald was silent. Then he said, "You're thinkin' of me, +Johnny, an' what we was planning on?" + +"Partly." + +"Then don't any more. I'll stick to you, an' we'll stick to her. Only----" + +"What?" + +"If you could get Peggy Blackton to help you----" + +"You mean----" began Aldous eagerly. + +"That if Peggy Blackton got her to stay for a week--mebby ten +days--visitin' her, you know, it wouldn't be so bad if you told her then, +would it, Johnny?" + +"By George, it wouldn't!" + +"And I think----" + +"Yes----" + +"Bein' an old man, an' seein' mebby what you don't see----" + +"Yes----" + +"That she'd take you, Johnny." + +In his breast John's heart seemed suddenly to give a jump that choked him. +And while he stared ahead old Donald went on. + +"I've seen it afore, in a pair of eyes just like her eyes, Johnny--so soft +an' deeplike, like the sky up there when the sun's in it. I seen it when we +was ridin' behind an' she looked ahead at you, Johnny. I did. An' I've seen +it afore. An' I think----" + +Aldous waited, his heart-strings ready to snap. + +"An' I think--she likes you a great deal, Johnny." + +Aldous reached over and gripped MacDonald's hand. + +"The good Lord bless you, Donald! We'll stick! As for Quade and Culver +Rann----" + +"I've been thinkin' of them," interrupted MacDonald. "You haven't got time +to waste on them, Johnny. Leave 'em to me. If it's only a week you've got +to be close an' near by Mis' Joanne. I'll find out what Quade an' Rann are +doing, and what they're goin' to do. I've got a scheme. Will you leave 'em +to me?" + +Aldous nodded, and in the same breath informed MacDonald of Peggy +Blackton's invitation. The old hunter chuckled exultantly. He stopped his +horse, and Aldous halted. + +"It's workin' out fine, Johnny!" he exclaimed. "There ain't no need of you +goin' any further. We understand each other, and there ain't nothin' for +you to do at the corral. Jump off your horse and go back. If I want you +I'll come to the Blacktons' 'r send word, and if you want me I'll be at the +corral or the camp in the coulee. Jump off, Johnny!" + +Without further urging Aldous dismounted. They shook hands again, and +MacDonald drove on ahead of him the saddled horses and the pack. And as +Aldous turned back toward the bungalow old Donald was mumbling low in his +beard again, "God ha' mercy on me, but I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny--for +her an' Johnny!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Half an hour later Blackton had shown Aldous to his room and bath. It was +four o'clock when he rejoined the contractor in the lower room, freshly +bathed and shaven and in a change of clothes. He had not seen Joanne, but +half a dozen times he had heard her and Peggy Blackton laughing and talking +in Mrs. Blackton's big room at the head of the stairs, and he heard them +now as they sat down to smoke their cigars. Blackton was filled with +enthusiasm over the accomplishment of his latest work, and Aldous tried +hard not to betray the fact that the minutes were passing with gruelling +slowness while he waited for Joanne. He wanted to see her. His heart was +beating like an excited boy's. He could hear her footsteps over his head, +and he distinguished her soft laughter, and her sweet voice when she spoke. +There was something tantalizing in her nearness and the fact that she did +not once show herself at the top of the stair. Blackton was still talking +about "coyotes" and dynamite when, an hour later, Aldous looked up, and his +heart gave a big, glad jump. + +Peggy Blackton, a plump little golden-haired vision of happiness, was +already half a dozen steps down the stairs. At the top Joanne, for an +instant, had paused. Through that space, before the contractor had turned, +her eyes met those of John Aldous. She was smiling. Her eyes were shining +at him. Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and +never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness. She was dressed +in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat, +and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous +way. Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she +had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the +lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck. + +For a moment, as Peggy Blackton went to her husband, he stood very close to +Joanne, and into his eyes she was smiling, half laughing, her beautiful +mouth aquiver, her eyes glowing, the last trace of their old suspense and +fear vanished in a new and wondrous beauty. He would not have said she was +twenty-eight now. He would have sworn she was twenty. + +"Joanne," he whispered, "you are wonderful. Your hair is glorious!" + +"Always--my hair," she replied, so low that he alone heard. "Can you never +see beyond my hair, John Aldous?" + +"I stop there," he said. "And I marvel. It is glorious!" + +"Again!" And up from her white throat there rose a richer, sweeter colour. +"If you say that again now, John Aldous, I shall never make curls for you +again as long as I live!" + +"For me----" + +His heart seemed near bursting with joy. But she had left him, and was +laughing with Peggy Blackton, who was showing her husband where he had +missed a stubbly patch of beard on his cheek. He caught her eyes, turned +swiftly to him, and they were laughing at him, and there came a sudden +pretty upturn to her chin as he continued to stare, and he saw again the +colour deepening in her face. When Peggy Blackton led her husband to the +stair, and drove him up to shave off the stubbly patch, Joanne found the +opportunity to whisper to him: + +"You are rude, John Aldous! You must not stare at me like that!" + +And as she spoke the rebellious colour was still in her face, in spite of +the tantalizing curve of her red lips and the sparkle in her eyes. + +"I can't help it," he pleaded. "You are--glorious!" + +During the next hour, and while they were at supper, he could see that she +was purposely avoiding his eyes, and that she spoke oftener to Paul +Blackton than she did to him, apparently taking the keenest interest in his +friend's enthusiastic descriptions of the mighty work along the line of +steel. And as pretty Peggy Blackton never seemed quite so happy as when +listening to her husband, he was forced to content himself by looking at +Joanne most of the time, without once receiving her smile. + +The sun was just falling behind the western mountains when Peggy and +Joanne, hurried most incontinently by Blackton, who had looked at his +watch, left the table to prepare themselves for the big event of the +evening. + +"I want to get you there before dusk," he explained. "So please hurry!" + +They were back in five minutes. Joanne had slipped on a long gray coat, and +with a veil that trailed a yard down her back she had covered her head. +Not a curl or a tress of her hair had she left out of its filmy prison, and +there was a mischievous gleam of triumph in her eyes when she looked at +Aldous. + +A moment later, when they went ahead of Blackton and his wife to where the +buckboard was waiting for them, he said: + +"You put on that veil to punish me, Ladygray?" + +"It is a pretty veil," said she. + +"But your hair is prettier," said he. + +"And you embarrassed me very much by staring as you did, John Aldous!" + +"Forgive me. It is--I mean you are--so beautiful." + +"And you are sometimes--most displeasing," said she. "Your ingenuousness, +John Aldous, is shocking!" + +"Forgive me," he said again. + +"And you have known me but two days," she added. + +"Two days--is a long time," he argued. "One can be born, and live, and die +in two days. Besides, our trails have crossed for years." + +"But--it displeases me." + +"What I have said?" + +"Yes." + +"And the way I have looked at you?" + +"Yes." + +Her voice was low and quiet now, her eyes were serious, and she was not +smiling. + +"I know--I know," he groaned, and there was a deep thrill in his voice. +"It's been only two days after all, Ladygray. It seems like--like a +lifetime. I don't want you to think badly of me. God knows I don't!" + +"No, no. I don't," she said quickly and gently. "You are the finest +gentleman I ever knew, John Aldous. Only--it embarrasses me." + +"I will cut out my tongue and put out my eyes----" + +"Nothing so terrible," she laughed softly. "Will you help me into the +wagon? They are coming." + +She gave him her hand, warm and soft; and Blackton forced him into the seat +between her and Peggy, and Joanne's hand rested in his arm all the way to +the mountain that was to be blown up, and he told himself that he was a +fool if he were not supremely happy. The wagon stopped, and he helped her +out again, her warm little hand again close in his own, and when she looked +at him he was the cool, smiling John Aldous of old, so cool, and strong, +and unemotional that he saw surprise in her eyes first, and then that +gentle, gathering glow that came when she was proud of him, and pleased +with him. And as Blackton pointed out the mountain she unknotted the veil +under her chin and let it drop back over her shoulders, so that the last +light of the day fell richly in the trembling curls and thick coils of her +hair. + +"And that is my reward," said John Aldous, but he whispered it to himself. + +They had stopped close to a huge flat rock, and on this rock men were at +work fitting wires to a little boxlike thing that had a white button-lever. +Paul Blackton pointed to this, and his face was flushed with excitement. + +"That's the little thing that's going to blow it up, Miss Gray--the touch +of your finger on that little white button. Do you see that black base of +the mountain yonder?--right there where you can see men moving about? It's +half a mile from here, and the 'coyote' is there, dug into the wall of +it." + +The tremble of enthusiasm was in his voice as he went on, pointing with his +long arm: "Think of it! We're spending a hundred thousand dollars going +through that rock that people who travel on the Grand Trunk Pacific in the +future will be saved seven minutes in their journey from coast to coast! +We're spending a hundred thousand there, and millions along the line, that +we may have the smoothest roadbed in the world when we're done, and the +quickest route from sea to sea. It looks like waste, but it isn't. It's +science! It's the fight of competition! It's the determination behind the +forces--the determination to make this road the greatest road in the world! +Listen!" + +The gloom was thickening swiftly. The black mountain was fading slowly +away, and up out of that gloom came now ghostly and far-reaching voices of +men booming faintly through giant megaphones. + +"_Clear away! Clear away! Clear away!_" they said, and the valley and the +mountain-sides caught up the echoes, until it seemed that a hundred voices +were crying out the warning. Then fell a strange and weird silence, and the +echoes faded away like the voices of dying men, and all was still save the +far-away barking of a coyote that answered the mysterious challenges of the +night. Joanne was close to the rock. Quietly the men who had been working +on the battery drew back. + +"It is ready!" said one. + +"Wait!" said Blackton, as his wife went to speak, "Listen!" + +For five minutes there was silence. Then out of the night a single +megaphone cried the word: + +"_Fire!_" + +"All is clear," said the engineer, with a deep breath. "All you have to do, +Miss Gray, is to move that little lever from the side on which it now rests +to the opposite side. Are you ready?" + +In the darkness Joanne's left hand had sought John's. It clung to his +tightly. He could feel a little shiver run through her. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"Then--if you please--press the button!" + +Slowly Joanne's right hand crept out, while the fingers of her left clung +tighter to Aldous. She touched the button--thrust it over. A little cry +that fell from between her tense lips told them she had done the work, and +a silence like that of death fell on those who waited. + +A half a minute--perhaps three quarters--and a shiver ran under their feet, +but there was no sound; and then a black pall, darker than the night, +seemed to rise up out of the mountain, and with that, a second later, came +the explosion. There was a rumbling and a jarring, as if the earth were +convulsed under foot; volumes of dense black smoke shot upward, and in +another instant these rolling, twisting volumes of black became lurid, and +an explosion like that of a thousand great guns rent the air. As fast as +the eye could follow sheets of flame shot up out of the sea of smoke, +climbing higher and higher, in lightning flashes, until the lurid tongues +licked the air a quarter of a mile above the startled wilderness. Explosion +followed explosion, some of them coming in hollow, reverberating booms, +others sounding as if in midair. Unseen by the watchers, the heavens were +filled with hurtling rocks; solid masses of granite ten feet square were +thrown a hundred feet away; rocks weighing a ton were hurled still farther, +as if they were no more than stones flung by the hands of a giant; chunks +that would have crashed from the roof to the basement of a skyscraper +dropped a third of a mile away. For three minutes the frightful convulsions +continued, and the tongues of flame leaped into the night. Then the lurid +lights died out, shorter and shorter grew the sullen flashes, and then +again fell--silence! + +During those appalling moments, unconscious of the act, Joanne had shrank +close to Aldous, so that he felt the soft crush of her hair and the swift +movement of her bosom. Blackton's voice brought them back to life. + +He laughed, and it was the laugh of a man who had looked upon work well +done. + +"It has done the trick," he said. "To-morrow we will come and see. And I +have changed my plans about Coyote Number Twenty-eight. Hutchins, the +superintendent, is passing through in the afternoon, and I want him to see +it." He spoke now to a man who had come up out of the darkness. "Gregg, +have Twenty-eight ready at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon--four +o'clock--sharp!" + +Then he said: + +"Dust and a bad smell will soon be settling about us. Come, let's go home!" + +And as they went back to the buckboard wagon through the gloom John Aldous +still held Joanne's hand in his own, and she made no effort to take it from +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The next morning, when Aldous joined the engineer in the dining-room below, +he was disappointed to find the breakfast table prepared for two instead of +four. It was evident that Peggy Blackton and Joanne were not going to +interrupt their beauty nap on their account. + +Blackton saw his friend's inquiring look, and chuckled. + +"Guess we'll have to get along without 'em this morning, old man. Lord +bless me, did you hear them last night--after you went to bed?" + +"No." + +"You were too far away," chuckled Blackton again, "I was in the room across +the hall from them. You see, old man, Peggy sometimes gets fairly starved +for the right sort of company up here, and last night they didn't go to bed +until after twelve o'clock. I looked at my watch. Mebby they were in bed, +but I could hear 'em buzzing like two bees, and every little while they'd +giggle, and then go on buzzing again. By George, there wasn't a break in +it! When one let up the other'd begin, and sometimes I guess they were both +going at once. Consequently, they're sleeping now." + +When breakfast was finished Blackton looked at his watch. + +"Seven o'clock," he said. "We'll leave word for the girls to be ready at +nine. What are you going to do meantime, Aldous?" + +"Hunt up MacDonald, probably." + +"And I'll run down and take a look at the work." + +As they left the house the engineer nodded down the road. MacDonald was +coming. + +"He has saved you the trouble," he said. "Remember, Aldous--nine o'clock +sharp!" + +A moment later Aldous was advancing to meet the old mountaineer. + +"They've gone, Johnny," was Donald's first greeting. + +"Gone?" + +"Yes. The whole bunch--Quade, Culver Rann, DeBar, and the woman who rode +the bear. They've gone, hide and hair, and nobody seems to know where." + +Aldous was staring. + +"Also," resumed old Donald slowly, "Culver Rann's outfit is gone--twenty +horses, including six saddles. An' likewise others have gone, but I can't +find out who." + +"Gone!" repeated Aldous again. + +MacDonald nodded. + +"And that means----" + +"That Culver Rann ain't lost any time in gettin' under way for the gold," +said Donald. "DeBar is with him, an' probably the woman. Likewise three +cut-throats to fill the other saddles. They've gone prepared to fight." + +"And Quade?" + +Old Donald hunched his shoulders, and suddenly John's face grew dark and +hard. + +"I understand," he spoke, half under his breath. "Quade has +disappeared--but he isn't with Culver Rann. He wants us to believe he has +gone. He wants to throw us off our guard. But he's watching, and +waiting--somewhere--like a hawk, to swoop down on Joanne! He----" + +"That's it!" broke in MacDonald hoarsely. "That's it, Johnny! It's his old +trick--his old trick with women. There's a hunderd men who've got to do his +bidding--do it 'r get out of the mountains--an' we've got to watch Joanne. +We have, Johnny! If she should disappear----" + +Aldous waited. + +"You'd never find her again, so 'elp me God, you wouldn't, Johnny!" he +finished. + +"We'll watch her," said Aldous quietly. "I'll be with her to-day, Mac, and +to-night I'll come down to the camp in the coulee to compare notes with +you. They can't very well steal her out of Blackton's house while I'm +gone." + +For an hour after MacDonald left him he walked about in the neighbourhood +of the Blackton bungalow smoking his pipe. Not until he saw the contractor +drive up in the buckboard did he return. Joanne and Peggy were more than +prompt. They were waiting. If such a thing were possible Joanne was more +radiantly lovely than the night before. To Aldous she became more beautiful +every time he looked at her. But this morning he did not speak what was in +his heart when, for a moment, he held her hand, and looked into her eyes. +Instead, he said: + +"Good morning, Ladygray. Have you used----" + +"I have," she smiled. "Only it's Potterdam's Tar Soap, and not the other. +And you--have not shaved, John Aldous!" + +"Great Scott, so I haven't!" he exclaimed, rubbing his chin. "But I did +yesterday afternoon, Ladygray!" + +"And you will again this afternoon, if you please," she commanded. "I don't +like bristles." + +"But in the wilderness----" + +"One can shave as well as another can make curls," she reminded him, and +there came an adorable little dimple at the corner of her mouth as she +looked toward Paul Blackton. + +Aldous was glad that Paul and Peggy Blackton did most of the talking that +morning. They spent half an hour where the explosion of the night before +had blown out the side of the mountain, and then drove on to Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. It was in the face of a sandstone cliff, and all they could +see of it when they got out of the wagon was a dark hole in the wall of +rock. Not a soul was about, and Blackton rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. + +"Everything is completed," he said. "Gregg put in the last packing this +morning, and all we are waiting for now is four o'clock this afternoon." + +The hole in the mountain was perhaps four feet square. Ten feet in front of +it the engineer paused, and pointed to the ground. Up out of the earth came +two wires, which led away from the mouth of the cavern. + +"Those wires go down to the explosives," he explained. "They're battery +wires half a mile long. But we don't attach the battery until the final +moment, as you saw last night. There might be an accident." + +He bent his tall body and entered the mouth of the cavern, leading his wife +by the hand. Observing that Joanne had seen this attention on the +contractor's part, Aldous held out his own hand, and Joanne accepted it. +For perhaps twenty feet they followed the Blacktons with lowered heads. +They seemed to have entered a black, cold pit, sloping slightly downward, +and only faintly could they see Blackton when he straightened. + +His voice came strange and sepulchral: + +"You can stand up now. We're in the chamber. Don't move or you might +stumble over something. There ought to be a lantern here." + +He struck a match, and as he moved slowly toward a wall of blackness, +searching for the lantern, he called back encouragingly through the gloom: + +"You folks are now standing right over ten tons of dynamite, and there's +another five tons of black powder----" + +A little shriek from Peggy Blackton stopped him, and his match went out. + +"What in heaven's name is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Peggy----" + +"Why in heaven's name do you light a match then, with us standing over all +those tons of dynamite?" demanded Peggy. "Paul Blackton, you're----" + +The engineer's laughter was like a giant's roar in the cavern, and Joanne +gave a gasp, while Peggy shiveringly caught Aldous by the arm. + +"There--I've got the lantern!" exclaimed Blackton. "There isn't any danger, +not a bit. Wait a minute and I'll tell you all about it." He lighted the +lantern, and in the glow of it Joanne's and Peggy's faces were white and +startled. "Why, bless my soul, I didn't mean to frighten you!" he cried. "I +was just telling you facts. See, we're standing on a solid floor--four feet +of packed rock and cement. The dynamite and black powder are under that. +We're in a chamber--a cave--an artificial cavern. It's forty feet deep, +twenty wide, and about seven high." + +He held the lantern even with his shoulders and walked deeper into the +cavern as he spoke. The others followed. They passed a keg on which was a +half-burned candle. Close to the keg was an empty box. Beyond these things +the cavern was empty. + +"I thought it was full of powder and dynamite," apologized Peggy. + +"You see, it's like this," Blackton began. "We put the powder and dynamite +down there, and pack it over solid with rock and cement. If we didn't leave +this big air-chamber above it there would be only one explosion, and +probably two thirds of the explosive would not fire, and would be lost. +This chamber corrects that. You heard a dozen explosions last night, and +you'll hear a dozen this afternoon, and the biggest explosion of all is +usually the fourth or fifth. A 'coyote' isn't like an ordinary blast or +shot. It's a mighty expensive thing, and you see it means a lot of work. +Now, if some one were to touch off those explosives at this minute---- +What's the matter, Peggy? Are you cold? You're shivering!" + +"Ye-e-e-e-s!" chattered Peggy. + +Aldous felt Joanne tugging at his hand. + +"Let's take Mrs. Blackton out," she whispered. "I'm--I'm--afraid she'll +take cold!" + +In spite of himself Aldous could not restrain his laughter until they had +got through the tunnel. Out in the sunlight he looked at Joanne, still +holding her hand. She withdrew it, looking at him accusingly. + +"Lord bless me!" exclaimed Blackton, who seemed to understand at last. +"There's no danger--not a bit!" + +"But I'd rather look at it from outside, Paul, dear," said Mrs. Blackton. + +"But--Peggy--if it went off now you'd be in just as bad shape out here!" + +"I don't think we'd be quite so messy, really I don't, dear," she +persisted. + +"Lord bless me!" he gasped. + +"And they'd probably be able to find something of us," she added. + +"Not a button, Peggy!" + +"Then I'm going to move, if you please!" And suiting her action to the word +Peggy led the way to the buckboard. There she paused and took one of her +husband's big hands fondly in both her own. "It's perfectly wonderful, +Paul--and I'm proud of you!" she said. "But, honestly, dear, I can enjoy it +so much better at four o'clock this afternoon." + +Smiling, Blackton lifted her into the buckboard. + +"That's why I wish Paul had been a preacher or something like that," she +confided to Joanne as they drove homeward. "I'm growing old just thinking +of him working over that horrid dynamite and powder all the time. Every +little while some one is blown into nothing." + +"I believe," said Joanne, "that I'd like to do something like that if I +were a man. I'd want to be a man, not that preachers aren't men, Peggy, +dear--but I'd want to do things, like blowing up mountains for instance, or +finding buried cities, or"--she whispered, very, very softly under her +breath--"writing books, John Aldous!" + +Only Aldous heard those last words, and Joanne gave a sharp little cry; and +when Peggy asked her what the matter was Joanne did not tell her that John +Aldous had almost broken her hand on the opposite side--for Joanne was +riding between the two. + +"It's lame for life," she said to him half an hour later, when he was +bidding her good-bye, preparatory to accompanying Blackton down to the +working steel. "And I deserve it for trying to be kind to you. I think some +writers of books are--are perfectly intolerable!" + +"Won't you take a little walk with me right after dinner?" he was asking +for the twentieth time. + +"I doubt it very, very much." + +"Please, Ladygray!" + +"I may possibly think about it." + +With that she left him, and she did not look back as she and Peggy Blackton +went into the house. But as they drove away they saw two faces at the +window that overlooked the townward road, and two hands were waving +good-bye. Both could not be Peggy Blackton's hands. + +"Joanne and I are going for a walk this afternoon, Blackton," said Aldous, +"and I just want to tell you not to worry if we're not back by four +o'clock. Don't wait for us. We may be watching the blow-up from the top of +some mountain." + +Blackton chuckled. + +"Don't blame you," he said. "From an observer's point of view, John, it +looks to me as though you were going to have something more than hope to +live on pretty soon!" + +"I--I hope so." + +"And when I was going with Peggy I wouldn't have traded a quiet little walk +with her--like this you're suggesting--for a front seat look at a blow-up +of the whole Rocky Mountain system!" + +"And you won't forget to tell Mrs. Blackton that we may not return by four +o'clock?" + +"I will not. And"--Blackton puffed hard at his pipe--"and, John--the Tête +Jaune preacher is our nearest neighbour," he finished. + +From then until dinner time John Aldous lived in an atmosphere that was not +quite real, but a little like a dream. His hopes and his happiness were at +their highest. He knew that Joanne would go walking with him that +afternoon, and in spite of his most serious efforts to argue to the +contrary he could not keep down the feeling that the event would mean a +great deal for him. Almost feverishly he interested himself in Paul +Blackton's work. When they returned to the bungalow, a little before noon, +he went to his room, shaved himself, and in other ways prepared for dinner. + +Joanne and the Blacktons were waiting when he came down. + +His first look at Joanne assured him. She was dressed in a soft gray +walking-suit. Never had the preparation of a dinner seemed so slow to him, +and a dozen times he found himself inwardly swearing at Tom, the Chinese +cook. It was one o'clock before they sat down at the table and it was two +o'clock when they arose. It was a quarter after two when Joanne and he left +the bungalow. + +"Shall we wander up on the mountain?" he asked. "It would be fine to look +down upon the explosion." + +"I have noticed that in some things you are very observant," said Joanne, +ignoring his question. "In the matter of curls, for instance, you are +unapproachable; in others you are--quite blind, John Aldous!" + +"What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered. + +"I lost my scarf this morning, and you did not notice it. It is quite an +unusual scarf. I bought it in Cairo, and I don't want to have it blown up." + +"You mean----" + +"Yes. I must have dropped it in the cavern. I had it when we entered." + +"Then we'll return for it," he volunteered. "We'll still have plenty of +time to climb up the mountain before the explosion." + +Twenty minutes later they came to the dark mouth of the tunnel. There was +no one in sight, and for a moment Aldous searched for matches in his +pocket. + +"Wait here," he said. "I won't be gone two minutes." + +He entered, and when he came to the chamber he struck a match. The lantern +was on the empty box. He lighted it, and began looking for the scarf. +Suddenly he heard a sound. He turned, and saw Joanne standing in the glow +of the lantern. + +"Can you find it?" she asked. + +"I haven't--yet." + +They bent over the rock floor, and in a moment Joanne gave a little +exclamation of pleasure as she caught up the scarf. In that same moment, as +they straightened and faced each other, John Aldous felt his heart cease +beating, and Joanne's face had gone as white as death. The rock-walled +chamber was atremble; they heard a sullen, distant roaring, and as Aldous +caught Joanne's hand and sprang toward the tunnel the roar grew into a +deafening crash, and a gale of wind rushed into their faces, blowing out +the lantern, and leaving them in darkness. The mountain seemed crumbling +about them, and above the sound of it rang out a wild, despairing cry from +Joanne's lips. For there was no longer the brightness of sunshine at the +end of the tunnel, but darkness--utter darkness; and through that tunnel +there came a deluge of dust and rock that flung them back into the +blackness of the pit, and separated them. + +"John--John Aldous!" + +"I am here, Joanne! I will light the lantern!" + +His groping hands found the lantern. He relighted it, and Joanne crept to +his side, her face as white as the face of the dead. He held the lantern +above him, and together they stared at where the tunnel had been. A mass of +rock met their eyes. The tunnel was choked. And then, slowly, each turned +to the other; and each knew that the other understood--for it was Death +that whispered about them now in the restless air of the rock-walled tomb, +a terrible death, and their lips spoke no words as their eyes met in that +fearful and silent understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Joanne's white lips spoke first. + +"The tunnel is closed!" she whispered. + +Her voice was strange. It was not Joanne's voice. It was unreal, terrible, +and her eyes were terrible as they looked steadily into his. Aldous could +not answer; something had thickened in his throat, and his blood ran cold +as he stared into Joanne's dead-white face and saw the understanding in her +eyes. For a space he could not move, and then, as suddenly as it had fallen +upon him, the effect of the shock passed away. + +[Illustration: "The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."] + +He smiled, and put out a hand to her. + +"A slide of rock has fallen over the mouth of the tunnel," he said, forcing +himself to speak as if it meant little or nothing. "Hold the lantern, +Joanne, while I get busy." + +"A slide of rock," she repeated after him dumbly. + +She took the lantern, her eyes still looking at him in that stricken way, +and with his naked hands John Aldous set to work. Five minutes and he knew +that it was madness to continue. Hands alone could not clear the tunnel. +And yet he worked, tearing into the rock and shale like an animal; rolling +back small boulders, straining at larger ones until the tendons of his arms +seemed ready to snap and his veins to burst. For a few minutes after that +he went mad. His muscles cracked, he panted as he fought with the rock +until his hands were torn and bleeding, and over and over again there ran +through his head Blackton's last words--_Four o'clock this afternoon!--Four +o'clock this afternoon!_ + +Then he came to what he knew he would reach very soon, a solid wall! Rock +and shale and earth were packed as if by battering rams. For a few moments +he fought to control himself before facing Joanne. Over him swept the grim +realization that his last fight must be for her. He steadied himself, and +wiped the dust and grime from his face with his handkerchief. For the last +time he swallowed hard. His soul rose within him almost joyously now in the +face of this last great fight, and he turned--John Aldous, the super-man. +There was no trace of fear in his face as he went to her. He was even +smiling in that ghostly glow of the lantern. + +"It is hard work, Joanne." + +She did not seem to hear what he had said. She was looking at his hands. +She held the lantern nearer. + +"Your hands are bleeding, John!" + +It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he was +thrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of her +hand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raised +her eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he had +gazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, and +the moment was weighted with an appalling silence. + +It came to them both in that instant--the _tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in +his pocket! + +Without taking her eyes from his face she asked: + +"What time is it. John?" + +"Joanne----" + +"I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I am +not afraid now. What time is it, John?" + +"My God--they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't think +they won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide has +covered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger--none at +all. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!" + +"What time is it?" she repeated softly. + +For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he saw +that she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivory +cross she was smiling at him--yes! she was smiling at him in that gray and +ghastly death-gloom of the cavern! + +He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it. + +"A quarter after three," he said. "By four o'clock they will be at +work--Blackton and twenty men. They will have us out in time for supper." + +"A quarter after three," repeated Joanne, and the words came steadily from +her lips. "That means----" + +He waited. + +"_We have forty-five minutes in which to live!_" she said. + +Before he could speak she had thrust the lantern into his hand, and had +seized his other hand in both her own. + +"If there are only forty-five minutes let us not lie to one another," she +said, and her voice was very close. "I know why you are doing it, John +Aldous. It is for me. You have done a great deal for me in these two days +in which one 'can be born, and live, and die.' But in these last minutes +I do not want you to act what I know cannot be the truth. You know--and I +know. The wires are laid to the battery rock. There is no hope. At four +o'clock--we both know what will happen. And I--am not afraid." + +She heard him choking for speech. In a moment he said: + +"There are other lanterns--Joanne. I saw them when I was looking for the +scarf. I will light them." + +He found two lanterns hanging against the rock wall. He lighted them, and +the half-burned candle. + +"It is pleasanter," she said. + +She stood in the glow of them when he turned to her, tall, and straight, +and as beautiful as an angel. Her lips were pale; the last drop of blood +had ebbed from her face; but there was something glorious in the poise of +her head, and in the wistful gentleness of her mouth and the light in her +eyes. And then, slowly, as he stood looking with a face torn in its agony +for her, she held out her arms. + +"John--John Aldous----" + +"Joanne! Oh, my God!--Joanne!" + +She swayed as he sprang to her, but she was smiling--smiling in that new +and wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heard +her say came low and sobbing: + +"John--John, if you want to, now--you can tell me that my hair is +beautiful!" + +And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him, +her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and over +again she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushed +forth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetful +of time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, her +hair, her eyes--conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life, +that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and that +over and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that she +loved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made him +free her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love had +overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour +and in her eyes was its glory. + +And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came--almost like +the benediction of a cathedral bell--the soft, low tinkling chime of the +half-hour bell in Aldous' watch! + +It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and +his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides. + +"Joanne--Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close +in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "I +have lived for you, I have waited for you--all these years you have been +coming, coming, coming to me--and now that you are mine--_mine_--it is +impossible! It cannot happen----" + +He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined the +packed tunnel. It was solid--not a crevice or a break through which might +have travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did not +shout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would be +terrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might be +some other opening--a possible exit--in that mountain wall? With the +lantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back to +Joanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he looked +at her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went to +her. + +"Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you are +not afraid?" + +"No, I am not afraid." + +"And you know----" + +"Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly against +their clasped hands and partly upon his breast. + +"And you love me, Joanne?" + +"As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered. + +"And yet it has been but two days----" + +"And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly. + +"You would be my wife?" + +"Yes." + +"To-morrow?" + +"If you wanted me then, John." + +"I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me without +reservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me--you would come to me +body, and heart, and soul?" + +"In all those ways--yes." + +"I thank God," he breathed again. + +He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her love +grew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little for +him to kiss. + +"Oh, I was happy--so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face. +"John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keep +myself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraid +you wouldn't tell me--before it happened. And John--John----" + +She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows in +her hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her--her glorious +hair--covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept and +piled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, and +shoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it. + +He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lips +pressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears, +pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the +_tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in his pocket. + +"Joanne," he whispered. + +"Yes, John." + +"You are not afraid of--death?" + +"No, not when you are holding me like this, John." + +He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips. + +"Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, my +John!" + +Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold. + +"Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice. +"Let us sit down, John--you on this box, and I on the floor, at your +feet--like this." + +He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, her +hands clasped in his. + +"I think, John," she said softly, "that very, very often we would have +visited like this--you and I--in the evening." + +A lump choked him, and he could not answer. + +"I would very often have come and perched myself at your feet like this." + +"Yes, yes, my beloved." + +"And you would always have told me how beautiful my hair was--always. You +would not have forgotten that, John--or have grown tired?" + +"No, no--never!" + +His arms were about her. He was drawing her closer. + +"And we would have had beautiful times together, John--writing, and going +adventuring, and--and----" + +He felt her trembling, throbbing, and her arms tightened about him. + +And now, again up through the smother of her hair, came the +_tick-tick-tick_ of his watch. + +He felt her fumbling at his watch pocket, and in a moment she was holding +the timepiece between them, so that the light of the lantern fell on the +face of it. + +"It is three minutes of four, John." + +The watch slipped from her fingers, and now she drew herself up so that her +arms were about his neck, and their faces touched. + +"Dear John, you love me?" + +"So much that even now, in the face of death, I am happy," he whispered. +"Joanne, sweetheart, we are not going to be separated. We are +going--together. Through all eternity it must be like this--you and I, +together. Little girl, wind your hair about me--tight!" + +"There--and there--and there, John! I have tied you to me, and you are +buried in it! Kiss me, John----" + +And then the wild and terrible fear of a great loneliness swept through +him. For Joanne's voice had died away in a whispering breath, and the lips +he kissed did not kiss him back, and her body lay heavy, heavy, heavy in +his arms. Yet in his loneliness he thanked God for bringing her oblivion in +these last moments, and with his face crushed to hers he waited. For he +knew that it was no longer a matter of minutes, but of seconds, and in +those seconds he prayed, until up through the warm smother of her +hair--with the clearness of a tolling bell--came the sound of the little +gong in his watch striking the Hour of Four! + +In space other worlds might have crumbled into ruin; on earth the stories +of empires might have been written and the lives of men grown old in those +first century-long seconds in which John Aldous held his breath and waited +after the chiming of the hour-bell in the watch on the cavern floor. How +long he waited he did not know; how closely he was crushing Joanne to his +breast he did not realize. Seconds, minutes, and other minutes--and his +brain ran red in dumb, silent madness. And the watch! It _ticked, ticked, +ticked!_ It was like a hammer. + +He had heard the sound of it first coming up through her hair. But it was +not in her hair now. It was over him, about him--it was no longer a +ticking, but a throb, a steady, jarring, beating throb. It grew louder, +and the air stirred with it. He lifted his head. With the eyes of a madman +he stared--and listened. His arms relaxed from about Joanne, and she +slipped crumpled and lifeless to the floor. He stared--and that steady +_beat-beat-beat_--a hundred times louder than the ticking of a +watch--pounded in his brain. Was he mad? He staggered to the choked mouth +of the tunnel, and then there fell shout upon shout, and shriek upon shriek +from his lips, and twice, like a madman now, he ran back to Joanne and +caught her up in his arms, calling and sobbing her name, and then +shouting--and calling her name again. She moved; her eyes opened, and like +one gazing upon the spirit of the dead she looked into the face of John +Aldous, a madman's face in the lantern-glow. + +"John--John----" + +She put up her hands, and with a cry he ran with her in his arms to the +choked tunnel. + +"Listen! Listen!" he cried wildly. "Dear God in Heaven, Joanne--can you not +hear them? It's Blackton--Blackton and his men! Hear--hear the rock-hammers +smashing! Joanne--Joanne--we are saved!" + +She did not sense him. She swayed, half on her feet, half in his arms, as +consciousness and reason returned to her. Dazedly her hands went to his +face in their old, sweet way. Aldous saw her struggling to understand--to +comprehend; and he kissed her soft upturned lips, fighting back the +excitement that made him want to raise his voice again in wild and joyous +shouting. + +"It is Blackton!" he said over and over again. "It is Blackton and his men! +Listen!--you can hear their picks and the pounding of their rock-hammers!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +At last Joanne realized that the explosion was not to come, that Blackton +and his men were working to save them. And now, as she listened with him, +her breath began to come in sobbing excitement between her lips--for there +was no mistaking that sound, that steady _beat-beat-beat_ that came from +beyond the cavern wall and seemed to set strange tremors stirring in the +air about their ears. For a few moments they stood stunned and silent, as +if not yet quite fully comprehending that they had come from out of the pit +of death, and that men were fighting for their rescue. They asked +themselves no questions--why the "coyote" had not been fired? how those +outside knew they were in the cavern. And, as they listened, there came to +them a voice. It was faint, so faint that it seemed to whisper to them +through miles and miles of space--yet they knew that it was a voice! + +"Some one is shouting," spoke Aldous tensely. "Joanne, my darling, stand +around the face of the wall so flying rock will not strike you and I will +answer with my pistol!" + +When he had placed her in safety from split lead and rock chips, he drew +his automatic and fired it close up against the choked tunnel. He fired +five times, steadily, counting three between each shot, and then he placed +his ear to the mass of stone and earth and listened. Joanne slipped to him +like a shadow. Her hand sought his, and they held their breaths. They no +longer heard sounds--nothing but the crumbling and falling of dust and +pebbles where the bullets had struck, and their own heart-beats. The picks +and rock-hammers had ceased. + +Tighter and tighter grew the clasp of Joanne's fingers, and a terrible +thought flashed into John's brain. Perhaps a, rock from the slide had cut a +wire, and they had found the wire--had repaired it! Was that thought in +Joanne's mind, too? Her finger-nails pricked his flesh. He looked at her. +Her eyes were closed, and her lips were tense and gray. And then her eyes +shot open--wide and staring. They heard, faintly though it came to +them--once, twice, three times, four, five--the firing of a gun! + +John Aldous straightened, and a great breath fell from his lips. + +"Five times!" he said. "It is an answer. There is no longer doubt." + +He was holding out his arms to her, and she came into them with a choking +cry; and now she sobbed like a little child with her head against his +breast, and for many minutes he held her close, kissing her wet face, and +her damp hair, and her quivering lips, while the beat of the picks and the +crash of the rock-hammers came steadily nearer. + +Where those picks and rock-hammers fell a score of men were working like +fiends: Blackton, his arms stripped to the shoulders; Gregg, sweating and +urging the men; and among them--lifting and tearing at the rock like a +madman--old Donald MacDonald, his shirt open, his great hands bleeding, his +hair and beard tossing about him in the wind. Behind them, her hands +clasped to her breast--crying out to them to hurry, _hurry_--stood Peggy +Blackton. The strength of five men was in every pair of arms. Huge boulders +were rolled back. Men pawed earth and shale with their naked hands. +Rock-hammers fell with blows that would have cracked the heart of a granite +obelisk. Half an hour--three quarters--and Blackton came back to where +Peggy was standing, his face black and grimed, his arms red-seared where +the edges of the rocks had caught them, his eyes shining. + +"We're almost there, Peggy," he panted. "Another five minutes and----" + +A shout interrupted him. A cloud of dust rolled out of the mouth of the +tunnel, and into that dust rushed half a dozen men led by old Donald. +Before the dust had settled they began to reappear, and with a shrill +scream Peggy Blackton darted forward and flung her arms about the +gold-shrouded figure of Joanne, swaying and laughing and sobbing in the +sunshine. And old Donald, clasping his great arms about Aldous, cried +brokenly: + +"Oh, Johnny, Johnny--something told me to foller ye--an' I was just in +time--just in time to see you go into the coyote!" + +"God bless you, Mac!" said Aldous, and then Paul Blackton was wringing his +hands; and one after another the others shook his hand, but Peggy Blackton +was crying like a baby as she hugged Joanne in her arms. + +"MacDonald came just in time," explained Blackton a moment later; and he +tried to speak steadily, and tried to smile. "Ten minutes more, and----" + +He was white. + +"Now that it has turned out like this I thank God that it happened, Paul," +said Aldous, for the engineer's ears alone. "We thought we were facing +death, and so--I told her. And in there, on our knees, we pledged ourselves +man and wife. I want the minister--as quick as you can get him, Blackton. +Don't say anything to Joanne, but bring him to the house right away, will +you?" + +"Within half an hour," replied Blackton. "There comes Tony with the +buckboard. We'll hustle up to the house and I'll have the preacher there in +a jiffy." + +As they went to the wagon, Aldous looked about for MacDonald. He had +disappeared. Requesting Gregg to hunt him up and send him to the bungalow, +he climbed into the back seat, with Joanne between him and Peggy. Her +little hand lay in his. Her fingers clung to him. But her hair hid her +face, and on the other side of her Peggy Blackton was laughing and talking +and crying by turns. + +As they entered the bungalow, Aldous whispered to Joanne: + +"Will you please go right to your room, dear? I want to say something to +you--alone." + +When she went up the stair, Peggy caught a signal from her husband. Aldous +remained with them. In two minutes he told the bewildered and finally +delighted Peggy what was going to happen, and as Blackton hustled out for +the minister's house he followed Joanne. She had fastened her door behind +her. He knocked. Slowly she opened it. + +"John----" + +"I have told them, dear," he whispered happily. "They understand. And, +Joanne, Paul Blackton will be back in ten minutes--with the minister. Are +you glad?" + +She had opened the door wide, and he was heading out his arms to her again. +For a moment she did not move, but stood there trembling a little, and +deeper and sweeter grew the colour in her face, and tenderer the look in +her eyes. + +"I must brush my hair," she answered, as though she could think of no other +words. "I--I must dress." + +Laughing joyously, he went to her and gathered the soft masses of her hair +in his hands, and piled it up in a glorious disarray about her face and +head, holding it there, and still laughing into her eyes. + +"Joanne, you are mine!" + +"Unless I have been dreaming--I am, John Aldous!" + +"Forever and forever." + +"Yes, forever--and ever." + +"And because I want the whole world to know, we are going to be married by +a minister." + +She was silent. + +"And as my wife to be," he went on, his voice trembling with his happiness, +"you must obey me!" + +"I think that I shall, John." + +"Then you will not brush your hair, and you will not change your dress, and +you will not wash the dust from your face and that sweet little beauty-spot +from the tip of your nose," he commanded, and now he drew her head close to +him, so that he whispered, half in her hair: "Joanne, my darling, I want +you _wholly_ as you came to me there, when we thought we were going to die. +It was there you promised to become my wife, and I want you as you were +then--when the minister comes." + +"John, I think I hear some one coming up the front steps!" + +They listened. The door opened. They heard voices--Blackton's voice, +Peggy's voice, and another voice--a man's voice. + +Blackton's voice came up to them very distinctly. + +"Mighty lucky, Peggy," he said. "Caught Mr. Wollaver just as he was passing +the house. Where's----" + +"Sh-h-hh!" came Peggy Blackton's sibilant whisper. + +Joanne's hands had crept to John's face. + +"I think," she said, "that it is the minister, John." + +Her warm lips were near, and he kissed them. + +"Come, Joanne. We will go down." + +Hand in hand they went down the stair; and when the minister saw Joanne, +covered in the tangle and glory of her hair; and when he saw John Aldous, +with half-naked arms and blackened face; and when, with these things, he +saw the wonderful joy shining in their eyes, he stood like one struck dumb +at sight of a miracle descending out of the skies. For never had Joanne +looked more beautiful than in this hour, and never had man looked more like +entering into paradise than John Aldous. + +Short and to the point was the little mountain minister's service, and when +he had done he shook hands with them, and again he stared at them as they +went back up the stair, still hand in hand. At her door they stopped. There +were no words to speak now, as her heart lay against his heart, and her +lips against his lips. And then, after those moments, she drew a little +back, and there came suddenly that sweet, quivering, joyous play of her +lips as she said: + +"And now, my husband, may I dress my hair?" + +"My hair," he corrected, and let her go from his arms. + +Her door closed behind her. A little dizzily he turned to his room. His +hand was on the knob when he heard her speak his name. She had reopened her +door, and stood with something in her hand, which she was holding toward +him. He went back, and she gave him a photograph. + +"John, you will destroy this," she whispered. "It is his +photograph--Mortimer FitzHugh's. I brought it to show to people, that it +might help me in my search. Please--destroy it!" + +He returned to his room and placed the photograph on his table. It was +wrapped in thin paper, and suddenly there came upon him a most compelling +desire to see what Mortimer FitzHugh had looked like in life. Joanne would +not care. Perhaps it would be best for him to know. + +He tore off the paper. And as he looked at the picture the hot blood in his +veins ran cold. He stared--stared as if some wild and maddening joke was +being played upon his faculties. A cry rose to his lips and broke in a +gasping breath, and about him the floor, the world itself, seemed slipping +away from under his feet. + +For the picture he held in his hand was the picture of Culver Rann! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +For a minute, perhaps longer, John Aldous stood staring at the photograph +which he held in his hand. It was the picture of Culver Rann--not once did +he question that fact, and not once did the thought flash upon him that +this might be only an unusual and startling resemblance. It was assuredly +Culver Rann! The picture dropped from his hand to the table, and he went +toward the door. His first impulse was to go to Joanne. But when he reached +the door he locked it, and dropped into a chair, facing the mirror in his +dresser. + +The reflection of his own face was a shock to him. If he was pale, the dust +and grime of his fight in the cavern concealed his pallor. But the face +that stared at him from out of the glass was haggard, wildly and almost +grotesquely haggard, and he turned from it with a grim laugh, and set his +jaws hard. He returned to the table, and bit by bit tore the photograph +into thin shreds, and then piled the shreds on his ash-tray and burned +them. He opened a window to let out the smoke and smell of charring paper, +and the fresh, cool air of early evening struck his face. He could look off +through the fading sunshine of the valley and see the mountain where Coyote +Number Twenty-eight was to have done its work, and as he looked he gripped +the window-sill so fiercely that the nails of his fingers were bent and +broken against the wood. And in his brain the same words kept repeating +themselves over and over again. Mortimer FitzHugh was not dead. He was +alive. He was Culver Rann. And Joanne--Joanne was not _his_ wife; she was +still the wife of Mortimer FitzHugh--of Culver Rann! + +He turned again to the mirror, and there was another look in his face. It +was grim, terribly grim--and smiling. There was no excitement, nothing of +the passion and half-madness with which he had faced Quade and Rann the +night before. He laughed softly, and his nails dug as harshly into the +palms of his hands as they had dug into the sills of the window. + +"You poor, drivelling, cowardly fool!" he said to his reflection. "And you +dare to say--you dare to _think_ that she is not your wife?" + +As if in reply to his words there came a knock at the door, and from the +hall Blackton called: + +"Here's MacDonald, Aldous. He wants to see you." + +Aldous opened the door and the old hunter entered. + +"If I ain't interruptin' you, Johnny----" + +"You're the one man in the world I want to see, Mac. No, I'll take that +back; there's one other I want to see worse than you--Culver Rann." + +The strange look in his face made old Donald stare. + +"Sit down," he said, drawing two chairs close to the table. "There's +something to talk about. It was a terribly close shave, wasn't it?" + +"An awful close shave, Johnny. As close a shave as ever was." + +Still, as if not quite understanding what he saw, old Donald was staring +into John's face. + +"I'm glad it happened," said Aldous, and his voice became softer. "She +loves me, Mac. It all came out when we were in there, and thought we were +going to die. Not ten minutes ago the minister was here, and he made us man +and wife." + +Words of gladness that sprang to the old man's lips were stopped by that +strange, cold, tense look in the face of John Aldous. + +"And in the last five minutes," continued Aldous, as quietly as before, "I +have learned that Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband, is not dead. Is it very +remarkable that you do not find me happy, Mac? If you had come a few +minutes ago----" + +"Oh, my God! Johnny! Johnny!" + +MacDonald had pitched forward over the table, and now he bowed his great +shaggy head in his hands, and his gaunt shoulders shook as his voice came +brokenly through his beard. + +"I did it, Johnny; I did it for you an' her! When I knew what it would mean +for her--I _couldn't_, Johnny, I couldn't tell her the truth, 'cause I knew +she loved you, an' you loved her, an' it would break her heart. I thought +it would be best, an' you'd go away together, an' nobody would ever know, +an' you'd be happy. I didn't lie. I didn't say anything. But +Johnny--Johnny, _there weren't no bones in the grave!_" + +"My God!" breathed Aldous. + +"There were just some clothes," went on MacDonald huskily, "an' the watch +an' the ring were on top. Johnny, there weren't nobody ever buried there, +an' I'm to blame--I'm to blame." + +"And you did that for us," cried Aldous, and suddenly he reached over and +gripped old Donald's hands. "It wasn't a mistake, Mac. I thank God you kept +silent. If you had told her that the grave was empty, that it was a fraud, +I don't know what would have happened. And now--she is _mine!_ If she had +seen Culver Rann, if she had discovered that this scoundrel, this +blackmailer and murderer, was Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband----" + +"Johnny! John Aldous!" + +Donald MacDonald's voice came now like the deep growling roar of a +she-bear, and as he cried the other's name he sprang to his feet, and his +eyes gleamed in their deep sockets like raging fires. + +"Johnny!" + +Aldous rose, and he was smiling. He nodded. + +"That's it," he said. "Mortimer FitzHugh is Culver Rann!" + +"An'--an' you know this?" + +"Absolutely. Joanne gave me Mortimer FitzHugh's photograph to destroy. I am +sorry that I burned it before you saw it. But there is no doubt. Mortimer +FitzHugh and Culver Rann are the same man." + +Slowly the old mountaineer turned to the door. Aldous was ahead of him, and +stood with his hand on the knob. + +"I don't want you to go yet, Mac." + +"I--I'll see you a little later," said Donald clumsily. + +"Donald!" + +"Johnny!" + +For a full half minute they looked steadily into each other's eyes. + +"Only a week, Johnny," pleaded Donald. "I'll be back in a week." + +"You mean that you will kill him?" + +"He'll never come back. I swear it, Johnny!" + +As gently as he might have led Joanne, Aldous drew the mountaineer back to +the chair. + +"That would be cold-blooded murder," he said, "and I would be the murderer. +I can't send you out to do my killing, Mac, as I might send out a hired +assassin. Don't you see that I can't? Good heaven, some day--very soon--I +will tell you how this hound, Mortimer FitzHugh, poisoned Joanne's life, +and did his worst to destroy her. It's to me he's got to answer, Donald. +And to me he shall answer. I am going to kill him. But it will not be +murder. Since you have come into this room I have made my final plan, and I +shall follow it to the end coolly and deliberately. It will be a great +game, Mac--and it will be a fair game; and I shall play it happily, because +Joanne will not know, and I will be strengthened by her love. + +"Quade wants my life, and tried to hire Stevens, up at Miette, to kill me. +Culver Rann wants my life; a little later it will come to be the greatest +desire of his existence to have me dead and out of the way. I shall give +him the chance to do the killing, Mac. I shall give him a splendid chance, +and he will not fail to accept his opportunity. Perhaps he will have an +advantage, but I am as absolutely certain of killing him as I am that the +sun is going down behind the mountains out there. If others should step +in, if I should have more than Culver Rann on my hands--why, then you may +deal yourself a hand if you like, Donald. It may be a bigger game than One +against One." + +"It will," rumbled MacDonald. "I learned other things early this afternoon, +Johnny. Quade did not stay behind. He went with Rann. DeBar and the woman +are with them, and two other men. They went over the Lone Cache Pass, and +this minute are hurrying straight for the headwaters of the Parsnip. There +are five of 'em--five men." + +"And we are two," smiled Aldous. "So there _is_ an advantage on their side, +isn't there, Mac? And it makes the game most eminently fair, doesn't it?" + +"Johnny, we're good for the five!" cried old Donald in a low, eager voice. +"If we start now----" + +"Can you have everything ready by morning?" + +"The outfit's waiting. It's ready now, Johnny." + +"Then we'll leave at dawn. I'll come to you to-night in the coulee, and +we'll make our final plans. My brain is a little muddled now, and I've got +to clear it, and make myself presentable before supper. We must not let +Joanne know. She must suspect nothing--absolutely nothing." + +"Nothing," repeated MacDonald as he went to the door. + +There he paused and, hesitating for a moment, leaned close to Aldous, and +said in a low voice: + +"Johnny, I've been wondering why the grave were empty. I've been wondering +why there weren't somebody's bones there just t' give it the look it should +'a' had an' why the clothes were laid out so nicely with the watch an' the +ring on top!" + +With that he was gone, and Aldous closed and relocked the door. + +He was amazed at his own composure as he washed himself and proceeded to +dress for supper. What had happened had stunned him at first, had even +terrified him for a few appalling moments. Now he was superbly +self-possessed. He asked himself questions and answered them with a +promptness which left no room for doubt in his mind as to what his actions +should be. One fact he accepted as absolute: Joanne belonged to him. She +was his wife. He regarded her as that, even though Mortimer FitzHugh was +alive. In the eyes of both God and man FitzHugh no longer had a claim upon +her. This man, who was known as Culver Rann, was worse than Quade, a +scoundrel of the first water, a procurer, a blackmailer, even a +murderer--though he had thus far succeeded in evading the rather loose and +poorly working tentacles of mountain law. + +Not for an instant did he think of Joanne as Culver Rann's wife. She was +_his_ wife. It was merely a technicality of the law--a technicality that +Joanne might break with her little finger--that had risen now between them +and happiness. And it was this that he knew was the mountain in his path, +for he was certain that Joanne would not break that last link of bondage. +She would know, with Mortimer FitzHugh alive, that the pledge between them +in the "coyote," and the marriage ceremony in the room below, meant +nothing. Legally, she was no more to him now than she was yesterday, or the +day before. And she would leave him, even if it destroyed her, heart and +soul. He was sure of that. For years she had suffered her heart to be +ground out of her because of the "bit of madness" that was in her, because +of that earlier tragedy in her life--and her promise, her pledge to her +father, her God, and herself. Without arguing a possible change in her +because of her love for him, John Aldous accepted these things. He believed +that if he told Joanne the truth he would lose her. + +His determination not to tell her, to keep from her the secret of the grave +and the fact that Mortimer FitzHugh was alive, grew stronger in him with +each breath that he drew. He believed that it was the right thing to do, +that it was the honourable and the only thing to do. Now that the first +shock was over, he did not feel that he had lost Joanne, or that there was +a very great danger of losing her. For a moment it occurred to him that he +might turn the law upon Culver Rann, and in the same breath he laughed at +this absurdity. The law could not help him. He alone could work out his own +and Joanne's salvation. And what was to happen must happen very soon--up in +the mountains. When it was all over, and he returned, he would tell Joanne. + +His heart beat more quickly as he finished dressing. In a few minutes more +he would be with Joanne, and in spite of what had happened, and what might +happen, he was happy. Yesterday he had dreamed. To-day was reality--and it +was a glorious reality. Joanne belonged to him. She loved him. She was his +wife, and when he went to her it was with the feeling that only a serpent +lay in the path of their paradise--a serpent which he would crush with as +little compunction as that serpent would have destroyed her. Utterly and +remorselessly his mind was made up. + +The Blacktons' supper hour was five-thirty, and he was a quarter of an hour +late when he tapped at Joanne's door. He felt the warmth of a strange and +delightful embarrassment flushing his face as the door opened, and she +stood before him. In her face, too, was a telltale riot of colour which the +deep tan partly concealed in his own. + +"I--I am a little late, am I not, Joanne?" he asked. + +"You are, sir. If you have taken all this time dressing you are worse than +a woman. I have been waiting fifteen minutes!" + +"Old Donald came to see me," he apologized. "Joanne----" + +"You mustn't, John!" she expostulated in a whisper. "My face is afire now! +You mustn't kiss me again--until after supper----" + +"Only once," he pleaded. + +"If you will promise--just once----" + +A moment later she gasped: + +"Five times! John Aldous, I will never believe you again as long as I +live!" + +They went down to the Blacktons, and Peggy and Paul, who were busy over +some growing geraniums in the dining-room window, faced about with a forced +and incongruous appearance of total oblivion to everything that had +happened. It lasted less than ten seconds. Joanne's lips quivered. Aldous +saw the two little dimples at the corners of her mouth fighting to keep +themselves out of sight--and then he looked at Peggy. Blackton could stand +it no longer, and grinned broadly. + +"For goodness sake go to it, Peggy!" he laughed. "If you don't you'll +explode!" + +The next moment Peggy and Joanne were in each other's arms, and the two men +were shaking hands. + +"We know just how you feel," Blackton tried to explain. "We felt just like +you do, only we had to face twenty people instead of two. And you're not +hungry. I'll wager that. I'll bet you don't feel like swallowing a +mouthful. It had that peculiar effect on us, didn't it, Peggy?" + +"And I--I almost choked myself," gurgled Peggy as they took their places at +the table. "There really did seem to be something thick in my throat, +Joanne, dear. I coughed and coughed and coughed before all those people +until I wanted to die right there! And I'm wondering----" + +"If I'm going to choke, too?" smiled Joanne. "Indeed not, Peggy. I'm as +hungry as a bear!" + +And now she did look glorious and self-possessed to Aldous as she sat +opposite him at that small round table, which was just fitted for four. He +told her so when the meal was finished, and they were following the +Blacktons into the front room. Blackton had evidently been carefully +drilled along the line of a certain scheme which Peggy had formed, for in +spite of a negative nod from her, which signified that he was to wait a +while, he pulled out his watch, and said: + +"It isn't at all surprising if you people have forgotten that to-morrow is +Sunday. Peggy and I always do some Saturday-night shopping, and if you +don't mind, we'll leave you to care for the house while we go to town. We +won't be gone more than an hour." + +A few minutes later, when the door had closed behind them, Aldous led +Joanne to a divan, and sat down beside her. + +"I couldn't have arranged it better myself, dear," he exclaimed. "I have +been wondering how I could have you alone for a few minutes, and tell you +what is on my mind before I see MacDonald again to-night. I'm afraid you +will be displeased with me, Joanne. I hardly know how to begin. But--I've +got to." + +A moment's uneasiness came into her eyes as she saw how seriously he was +speaking. + +"You don't mean, John--there's more about Quade--and Culver Rann?" + +"No, no--nothing like that," he laughed, as though amused at the absurdity +of her question. "Old Donald tells me they have skipped the country, +Joanne. It's not that. It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of +me a minute from now. Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald. He has +lived in my promise. I've got to keep that promise--I must go into the +North with him." + +She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her +own soft palm and fingers. + +"Of course, you must, John. I love old Donald." + +"And I must go--soon," he added. + +"It is only fair to him that you should," she agreed. + +"He--he is determined we shall go in the morning," he finished, keeping his +eyes from her. + +For a moment Joanne did not answer. Her fingers interweaved with his, her +warm little palm stroked the rough back of his hand. Then she said, very +softly: + +"And why do you think that will displease me, John, dear? I will be ready!" + +"You!" + +Her eyes were on him, full, and dark, and glowing, and in them were both +love and laughter. + +"You dear silly John!" she laughed. "Why don't you come right out and tell +me to stay at home, instead of--of--'beating 'round the bush'--as Peggy +Blackton says? Only you don't know what a terrible little person you've +got, John. You really don't. So you needn't say any more. We'll start in +the morning--and I am going with you!" + +In a flash John Aldous saw his whole scheme shaking on its foundation. + +"It's impossible--utterly impossible!" he gasped. + +"And why utterly?" she asked, bending her head so that her soft hair +touched his face and lips. "John, have you already forgotten what we said +in that terrible cavern--what we told ourselves we would have done if we +had lived? We were going adventuring, weren't we? And we are not dead--but +alive. And this will be a glorious trip! Why, John, don't you see, don't +you understand? It will be our honeymoon trip!" + +"It will be a long, rough journey," he argued. "It will be hard--hard for a +woman." + +With a little laugh, Joanne sprang up and stood before him in a glow of +light, tall, and slim, and splendid, and there was a sparkle of beautiful +defiance and a little of triumph in her eyes as she looked down on him. + +"And it will be dangerous, too? You are going to tell me that?" + +"Yes, it will be dangerous." + +She came to him and rumpled up his hair, and turned his face up so that she +could look into his eyes. + +"Is it worse than fever, and famine, and deep swamps, and crawling +jungles?" she asked. "Are we going to encounter worse things than beasts, +and poisonous serpents, and murderous savages--even hunger and thirst, +John? For many years we dared those together--my father and I. Are these +great, big, beautiful mountains more treacherous than those Ceylon jungles +from which you ran away--even you, John? Are they more terrible to live in +than the Great African Desert? Are your bears worse than tigers, your +wolves more terrible than lions? And if, through years and years, I faced +those things with my father, do you suppose that I want to be left behind +now, and by my husband?" + +So sweet and wonderful was the sound of that name as it came softly from +her lips, that in his joy he forgot the part he was playing, and drew her +close down in his arms, and in that moment all that remained of the scheme +he had built for keeping her behind crumbled in ruin about him. + +Yet in a last effort he persisted. + +"Old Donald wants to travel fast--very fast, Joanne. I owe a great deal to +him. Even you I owe to him--for he saved us from the 'coyote.'" + +"I am going, John." + +"If we went alone we would be able to return very soon." + +"I am going." + +"And some of the mountains--it is impossible for a woman to climb them!" + +"Then I will let you carry me up them, John. You are so strong----" + +He groaned hopelessly. + +"Joanne, won't you stay with the Blacktons, to please me?" + +"No. I don't care to please you." + +Her fingers were stroking his cheek. + +"John?" + +"Yes." + +"Father taught me to shoot, and as we get better acquainted on our +honeymoon trip I'll tell you about some of my hunting adventures. I don't +like to shoot wild things, because I love them too well. But I can shoot. +And I want a gun!" + +"Great Scott!" + +"Not a toy--but a real gun," she continued. "A gun like yours. And then, if +by any chance we should have trouble--with Culver Rann----" + +She felt him start, and her hands pressed harder against his face. + +"Now I know," she whispered. "I guessed it all along. You told me that +Culver Rann and the others were after the gold. They've gone--and their +going isn't quite 'skipping the country' as you meant me to understand it, +John Aldous! So please let's not argue any more. If we do we may quarrel, +and that would be terrible. I'm going. And I will be ready in the morning. +And I want a gun. And I want you to be nice to me, and I want it to be our +honeymoon--even if it is going to be exciting!" + +And with that she put her lips to his, and his last argument was gone. + +Two hours later, when he went to the coulee, he was like one who had come +out of a strange and disturbing and altogether glorious dream. He had told +Joanne and the Blacktons that it was necessary for him to be with MacDonald +that night. Joanne's good-night kiss was still warm on his lips, the loving +touch of her hands still trembled on his face, and the sweet perfume of her +hair was in his nostrils. He was drunk with the immeasurable happiness that +had come to him, every fibre in him was aquiver with it--and yet, possessed +of his great joy, he was conscious of a fear; a fear that was new and +growing, and which made him glad when he came at last to the little fire in +the coulee. + +He did not tell MacDonald the cause of this fear at first. He told the +story of Mortimer FitzHugh and Joanne, leaving no part of it unbared, until +he could see Donald MacDonald's great gaunt hands clenching in the +firelight, and his cavernous eyes flaming darkly through the gloom. Then he +told what had happened when the Blacktons went to town, and when he had +finished, and rose despairingly beside the fire, Donald rose, too, and his +voice boomed in a sort of ecstasy. + +"My Jane would ha' done likewise," he cried in triumph. "She would that, +Johnny--she would!" + +"But this is different!" groaned Aldous. "What am I going to do, Mac? What +can I do? Don't you see how impossible it is! Mac, Mac--she isn't my +wife--not entirely, not absolutely, not in the last and vital sense of +being a wife by law! If she knew the truth, she wouldn't consider herself +my wife; she would leave me. For that reason I can't take her. I can't. +Think what it would mean!" + +Old Donald had come close to his side, and at the look in the gray old +mountaineer's face John Aldous paused. Slowly Donald laid his hands on his +shoulders. + +"Johnny," he said gently, "Johnny, be you sure of yourself? Be you a man, +Johnny?" + +"Good heaven, Donald. You mean----" + +Their eyes met steadily. + +"If you are, Johnny," went on MacDonald in a low voice, "I'd take her with +me. An' if you ain't, I'd leave these mount'ins to-night an' never look in +her sweet face again as long as I lived." + +"You'd take her along?" demanded Aldous eagerly. + +"I would. I've been thinkin' it over to-night. An' something seemed to tell +me we mustn't dare leave her here alone. There's just two things to do, +Johnny. You've got to stay with her an' let me go on alone or--you've got +to take her." + +Slowly Aldous shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was a little after +ten. + +"If I could make myself believe that she would not be safe here--I would +take her," he said. "But I can't quite make up my mind to that, Mac. She +will be in good hands with the Blacktons. I will warn Paul. Joanne is +determined to go, and I know she will think it pretty indecent to be told +emphatically that she can't go. But I've got to do it. I can't see----" + +A break in the stillness of the night stopped him with the suddenness of a +bullet in his brain. It was a scream--a woman's scream, and there followed +it shriek after shriek, until the black forest trembled with the fear and +agony of the cries, and John Aldous stood as if suddenly stripped of the +power to move or act. Donald MacDonald roused him to life. With a roar in +his beard, he sprang forth into the darkness. And Aldous followed, a hot +sweat of fear in his blood where a moment before had been only a chill of +wonder and horror. For in Donald's savage beastlike cry he had caught +Joanne's name, and an answering cry broke from his own lips as he followed +the great gaunt form that was tearing with the madness of a wounded bear +ahead of him through the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Not until they had rushed up out of the coulee and had reached the pathlike +trail did the screaming cease. For barely an instant MacDonald paused, and +then ran on with a speed that taxed Aldous to keep up. When they came to +the little open amphitheatre in the forest MacDonald halted again. Their +hearts were thumping like hammers, and the old mountaineer's voice came +husky and choking when he spoke. + +"It wasn't far--from here!" he panted. + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when he sped on again. Three minutes +later they came to where the trail crossed the edge of a small +rock-cluttered meadow, and with a sudden spurt Aldous darted ahead of +MacDonald into this opening, where he saw two figures in the moonlight. +Half a dozen feet from them he stopped with a cry of horror. They were Paul +and Peggy Blackton! Peggy was dishevelled and sobbing, and was frantically +clutching at her husband. It was Paul Blackton who dragged the cry from his +lips. The contractor was swaying. He was hatless; his face was covered with +blood, and his eyes were only half open, as if he were fighting to pull +himself back into consciousness after a terrible blow. Peggy's hair was +down, her dress was torn at the throat, and she was panting so that for a +moment she could not speak. + +"They've got--Joanne!" she cried then. "They went--there!" + +She pointed, and Aldous ran where she pointed--into the timber on the far +side of the little meadow. MacDonald caught his arm as they ran. + +"You go straight in," he commanded. "I'll swing--to right--toward +river----" + +For two minutes after that Aldous tore straight ahead. Then for barely a +moment he stopped. He had not paused to question Peggy Blackton. His own +fears told him who Joanne's abductors were. They were men working under +instructions from Quade. And they could not be far away, for scarcely ten +minutes had passed since the first scream. He listened, and held his breath +so that the terrific beating of his heart would not drown the sound of +crackling brush. All at once the blood in him was frozen by a fierce yell. +It was MacDonald, a couple of hundred yards to his right, and after that +yell came the bellowing shout of his name. + +"Johnny! Johnny! Oh, Johnny!" + +He dashed in MacDonald's direction, and a few moments later heard the +crashing of bodies in the undergrowth. Fifty seconds more and he was in the +arena. MacDonald was fighting three men in a space over which the +spruce-tops grew thinly. The moon shone upon them as they swayed in a +struggling mass, and as Aldous sprang to the combat one of the three reeled +backward and fell as if struck by a battering-ram. In that same moment +MacDonald went down, and Aldous struck a terrific blow with the butt of his +heavy Savage. He missed, and the momentum of his blow carried him over +MacDonald. He tripped and fell. By the time he had regained his, feet the +two men had disappeared into the thick shadows of the spruce forest. Aldous +whirled toward the third man, whom he had seen fall. He, too, had +disappeared. A little lamely old Donald brought himself to his feet. He was +smiling. + +"Now, what do 'ee think, Johnny?" + +"Where is she? Where is Joanne?" demanded Aldous. + +"Twenty feet behind you, Johnny, gagged an' trussed up nice as a whistle! +If they hadn't stopped to do that work you wouldn't ha' seen her ag'in, +Johnny--s'elp me, God, you wouldn't! They was hikin' for the river. Once +they had reached the Frazer, and a boat----" + +He broke off to lead Aldous to a clump of dwarf spruce. Behind this, white +and still in the moonlight, but with eyes wide open and filled with horror, +lay Joanne. Hands and feet were bound, and a big handkerchief was tied over +her mouth. Twenty seconds later Aldous held her shivering and sobbing and +laughing hysterically by turns in his arms, while MacDonald's voice brought +Paul and Peggy Blackton to them. Blackton had recovered from the blow that +had dazed him. Over Joanne's head he stared at Aldous. And MacDonald was +staring at Blackton. His eyes were burning a little darkly. + +"It's all come out right," he said, "but it ain't a special nice time o' +night to be taking a' evening walk in this locality with a couple o' +ladies!" + +Blackton was still staring at Aldous, with Peggy clutching his arm as if +afraid of losing him. + +It was Peggy who answered MacDonald. + +"And it was a nice time of night for you to send a message asking us to +bring Joanne down the trail!" she cried, her voice trembling. + +"We----" began Aldous, when he saw a sudden warning movement on MacDonald's +part, and stopped. "Let us take the ladies home," he said. + +With Joanne clinging to him, he led the way. Behind them all MacDonald +growled loudly: + +"There's got t' be something done with these damned beasts of furriners. +It's gettin' so no woman ain't safe at night!" + +Twenty minutes later they reached the bungalow. Leaving Joanne and Peggy +inside, now as busily excited as two phoebe birds, and after Joanne had +insisted upon Aldous sleeping at the Blacktons' that night, the two men +accompanied MacDonald a few steps on his way back to camp. + +As soon as they were out of earshot Blackton began cursing softly under his +breath. + +"So you didn't send that damned note?" he asked. "You haven't said so, but +I've guessed you didn't send it!" + +"No, we didn't send a note." + +"And you had a reason--you and MacDonald--for not wanting the girls to know +the truth?" + +"A mighty good reason," said Aldous. "I've got to thank MacDonald for +closing my mouth at the right moment. I was about to give it away. And now, +Blackton, I've got to confide in you. But before I do that I want your word +that you will repeat nothing of what I say to another person--even your +wife." + +Blackton nodded. + +"Go on," he said. "I've suspected a thing or two, Aldous. I'll give you my +word. Go on." + +As briefly as possible, and without going deeply into detail, Aldous told +of Quade and his plot to secure possession of Joanne. + +"And this is his work," he finished. "I've told you this, Paul, so that you +won't worry about Peggy. You can see from to-night's events that they were +not after her, but wanted Joanne. Joanne must not learn the truth. And your +wife must not know. I am going to settle with Quade. Just how and where and +when I'm going to settle with him I don't care to say now. But he's going +to answer to me. And he's going to answer soon." + +Blackton whistled softly. + +"A boy brought the note," he said. "He stood in the dark when he handed it +to me. And I didn't recognize any one of the three men who jumped out on +us. I didn't have much of a chance to fight, but if there's any one on the +face of the earth who has got it over Peggy when it comes to screaming, I'd +like to know her name! Joanne didn't have time to make a sound. But they +didn't touch Peggy until she began screaming, and then one of the men began +choking her. They had about laid me out with a club, so I was helpless. +Good God----" + +He shuddered. + +"They were river men," said MacDonald. "Probably some of Tomman's scow-men. +They were making for the river." + +A few minutes later, when Aldous was saying good-night to MacDonald, the +old hunter said again, in a whisper: + +"Now what do 'ee think, Johnny?" + +"That you're right, Mac," replied Aldous in a low voice. "There is no +longer a choice. Joanne must go with us. You will come early?" + +"At dawn, Johnny." + +He returned to the bungalow with Blackton, and until midnight the lights +there burned brightly while the two men answered a thousand questions about +the night's adventure, and Aldous told of his and Joanne's plans for the +honeymoon trip into the North that was to begin the next day. + +It was half-past twelve when be locked the door of his and sat down to +think. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There was no doubt in the mind of John Aldous now. The attempt upon Joanne +left him but one course to pursue: he must take her with him, in spite of +the monumental objections which he had seen a few hours before. He realized +what a fight this would mean for him, and with what cleverness and resource +he must play his part. Joanne had not given herself to him as she had once +given herself to Mortimer FitzHugh. In the "coyote," when they had faced +death, she had told him that were there to be a to-morrow in life for them +she would have given herself to him utterly and without reservation. And +that to-morrow had dawned. It was present. She was his wife. And she had +come to him as she had promised. In her eyes he had seen love and trust and +faith--and a glorious happiness. She had made no effort to hide that +happiness from him. Consciousness of it filled him with his own great +happiness, and yet it made him realize even more deeply how hard his fight +was to be. She was his wife. In a hundred little ways she had shown him +that she was proud of her wifehood. And again he told himself that she had +come to him as she had promised, that she had given into his keeping all +that she had to give. And yet--_she was not his wife!_ + +He groaned aloud, and his fingers dug into the flesh of his knees as he +thought of that. Could he keep that terrible truth from her? If she went +with him into the North, would she not guess? And, even though he kept the +truth from her until Mortimer FitzHugh was dead, would he be playing fair +with her? Again he went over all that he had gone over before. He knew that +Joanne would leave him to-morrow, and probably forever, if he told her that +FitzHugh was alive. The law could not help him, for only death--and never +divorce--would free her. Within himself he decided for the last time. He +was about to do the one thing left for him to do. And it was the honourable +thing, for it meant freedom for her and happiness for them both. To him, +Donald MacDonald had become a man who lived very close to the heart and the +right of things, and Donald had said that he should take her. This was the +greatest proof that he was right. + +But could he keep Joanne from guessing? Could he keep her from discovering +the truth until it was time for her to know that truth? In this necessity +of keeping her from suspecting that something was wrong he saw his greatest +fight. Compared with it, the final settlement with Quade and Mortimer +FitzHugh sank into a second importance. He knew what would happen then. But +Joanne--Joanne on the trail, as his wife---- + +He began pacing back and forth in his room, clouding himself in the smoke +of his pipe. Frequently Joanne's mind had filled him with an exquisite +delight by its quickness and at times almost magic perceptiveness, and he +realized that in these things, and the fineness of her woman's intuition, +now lay his greatest menace. He was sure that she understood the meaning of +the assault upon her that night, though she had apparently believed what +he and Blackton had told them--that it had been the attack of +irresponsible and drunken hoodlums. Yet he was certain that she had already +guessed that Quade had been responsible. + +He went to bed, dreading what questions and new developments the morning +might bring forth. And when the morning came, he was both amazed and +delighted. The near tragedy of the previous night might never have happened +in so far as he could judge from Joanne's appearance. When she came out of +her room to meet him, in the glow of a hall lamp, her eyes were like stars, +and the colour in her cheeks was like that of a rose fresh from its slumber +in dew. + +"I'm so happy, and what happened last night seems so like a bad dream," she +whispered, as he held her close to him for a few moments before descending +the stairs. "I shall worry about Peggy, John. I shall. I don't understand +how her husband dares to bring her among savages like these. You wouldn't +leave me among them, would you?" And as she asked the question, and his +lips pressed hers, John Aldous still believed that in her heart she knew +the truth of that night attack. + +If she did know, she kept her secret from him all that day. They left Tête +Jaune before sunrise with an outfit which MacDonald had cut down to six +horses. Its smallness roused Joanne's first question, for Aldous had +described to her an outfit of twenty horses. He explained that a large +outfit made travel much more difficult and slow, but he did not tell her +that with six horses instead of twenty they could travel less +conspicuously, more easily conceal themselves from enemies, and, if +necessary, make quick flight or swift pursuit. + +They stopped to camp for the night in a little basin that drew from Joanne +an exclamation of joy and wonder. They had reached the upper timber-line, +and on three sides the basin was shut in by treeless and brush-naked walls +of the mountains. In the centre of the dip was a lake fed by a tiny stream +that fell in a series of ribbonlike cataracts a sheer thousand feet from +the snow-peaks that towered above them. Small, parklike clumps of spruce +dotted the miniature valley; over it hung a sky as blue as sapphire and +under their feet was a carpet of soft grass sprayed with little blue +forget-me-nots and wild asters. + +"I have never seen anything a half so beautiful as this!" cried Joanne, as +Aldous helped her from her horse. + +As her feet touched the ground she gave a little cry and hung limply in his +arms. + +"I'm lame--lame for life!" she laughed in mock humour. "John, I can't +stand. I really can't!" + +Old Donald was chuckling in his beard as he came up. + +"You ain't nearly so lame as you'll be to-morrow," he comforted her. "An' +you won't be nearly so lame to-morrow as you'll be next day. Then you'll +begin to get used to it, Mis' Joanne." + +"_Mrs. Aldous_, Donald," she corrected sweetly. "Or--just Joanne." + +At that Aldous found himself holding her so closely that she gave a little +gasp. + +"Please don't," she expostulated. "Your arms are terribly strong, John!" + +MacDonald had turned away, still chuckling, and began to unpack. Joanne +looked behind her, then quickly held up her softly pouted lips. Aldous +kissed her, and would have kissed her again but she slipped suddenly from +his arms and going to Pinto began to untie a dishpan that was fastened to +the top of his pack. + +"Get to work, John Aldous!" she commanded. + +MacDonald had camped before in the basin, and there were tepee poles ready +cut, as light and dry as matchwood. Joanne watched them as they put up the +tent, and when it was done, and she looked inside, she cried delightedly: + +"It's the snuggest little home I ever had, John!" + +After that she busied herself in a way that was a constantly growing +pleasure to him. She took possession at once of pots and pans and kettles. +She lost no time in impressing upon both Aldous and MacDonald the fact that +while she was their docile follower on the trail she was to be at the head +of affairs in camp. While they were straightening out the outfit, hobbling +the horses, and building a fire, she rummaged through the panniers and took +stock of their provisions. She bossed old Donald in a manner that made him +fairly glow with pleasure. She bared her white arms to the elbows and made +biscuits for the "reflector" instead of bannock, while Aldous brought water +from the lake, and MacDonald cut wood. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes +were laughing, joyous, happy. MacDonald seemed years younger. He obeyed her +like a boy, and once Aldous caught him looking at her in a way that set him +thinking again of those days of years and years ago, and of other camps, +and of another woman--like Joanne. + +MacDonald had thought of this first camp--and there were porterhouse steaks +for supper, which he had brought packed in a kettle of ice. When they sat +down to the meal, Joanne was facing a distant snow-capped ridge that cut +the skyline, and the last of the sun, reflected from the face of the +mountain on the east, had set brown-and-gold fires aglow in her hair. They +were partly through when her eyes rested on the distant snow-ridge. Aldous +saw her looking steadily. Suddenly she pointed beyond him. + +"I see something moving over the snow on that mountain!" she cried a little +excitedly. "It is hurrying toward the summit--just under the skyline! What +is it?" + +Aldous and MacDonald looked toward the ridge. Fully a mile away, almost +even with the skyline now, a small dark object was moving over the white +surface of the snow. + +"It ain't a goat," said MacDonald, "because a goat is white, and we +couldn't see it on the snow. It ain't a sheep, 'cause it's too dark, an' +movin' too slow. It must be a bear, but why in the name o' sin a bear would +be that high, I don't know!" + +He jumped up and ran for his telescope. + +"A grizzly," whispered Joanne tensely. "Would it be a grizzly, John?" + +"Possibly," he answered. "Indeed, it's very likely. This is a grizzly +country. If we hurry you can get a look at him through the telescope." + +MacDonald was already studying the object through his long glass when they +joined him. + +"It's a bear," he said. + +"Please--please let me look at him," begged Joanne. + +The dark object was now almost on the skyline. Half A minute more and it +would pass over and out of sight. MacDonald still held his eye to the +telescope, as though he had not heard Joanne. Not until the moving object +had crossed the skyline, and had disappeared, did he reply to her. + +"The light's bad, an' you couldn't have made him out very well," he said. +"We'll show you plenty o' grizzlies, an' so near you won't want a +telescope. Eh, Johnny?" + +As he looked at Aldous there was a strange look in his eyes, and during the +remainder of the supper he was restless, and ate hurriedly. When he had +finished he rose and picked up his long rifle. + +"There's sheep somewhere near this basin, Johnny," he explained. "An' I +reckon Joanne'll scold us if we don't keep her in fresh meat. I'm goin' to +bring in some mutton if there's any to be got, an' I probably won't be back +until after dark." + +Aldous knew that he had more to say, and he went with him a few steps +beyond the camp. + +And MacDonald continued in a low, troubled voice: + +"Be careful, Johnny. Watch yo'rself. I'm going to take a look over into the +next valley, an' I won't be back until late. It wasn't a goat, an' it +wasn't a sheep, an' it wasn't a bear. It was two-legged! It was a man, +Johnny, an' he was there to watch this trail, or my name ain't Donald +MacDonald. Mebby he came ahead of us last night, an' mebby he was here +before that happened. Anyway, be on your guard while I look over into the +next range." + +With that he struck off in the direction of the snow-ridge, and for a few +moments Aldous stood looking after the tall, picturesque figure until it +disappeared behind a clump of spruce. Swiftly he was telling himself that +it was not the hunting season, and that it was not a prospector whom they +had seen on the snow-ridge. As a matter of caution, there could be but one +conclusion to draw. The man had been stationed there either by Quade or +FitzHugh, or both, and had unwittingly revealed himself. + +He turned toward Joanne, who had already begun to gather up the supper +things. He could hear her singing happily, and as he looked she pressed a +finger to her lips and threw a kiss to him. His heart smote him even as he +smiled and waved a hand in response. Then he went to her. How slim and +wonderful she looked in that glow of the setting sun, he thought. How white +and soft were her hands, how tender and fragile her lovely neck! And how +helpless--how utterly helpless she would be if anything happened to him and +MacDonald! With an effort he flung the thought from him. On his knees he +wiped the dishes and pots and pans for Joanne. When this was done, he +seized an axe and showed her how to gather a bed. This was a new and +delightful experience for Joanne. + +"You always want to cut balsam boughs when you can get them," he explained, +pausing before two small trees. "Now, this is a cedar, and this is a +balsam. Notice how prickly and needlelike on all sides these cedar branches +are. And now look at the balsam. The needles lay flat and soft. Balsam +makes the best bed you can get in the North, except moss, and you've got to +dry the moss." + +For fifteen minutes he clipped off the soft ends of the balsam limbs and +Joanne gathered them in her arms and carried them into the tepee. Then he +went in with her, and showed her how to make the bed. He made it a narrow +bed, and a deep bed, and he knew that Joanne was watching him, and he was +glad the tan hid the uncomfortable glow in his face when he had finished +tucking in the end of the last blanket. + +"You will be as cozy as can be in that," he said. + +"And you, John?" she asked, her face flushing rosily. "I haven't seen +another tent for you and Donald." + +"We don't sleep in a tent during the summer," he said. "Just our +blankets--out in the open." + +"But--if it should rain?" + +"We get under a balsam or a spruce or a thick cedar." + +A little later they stood beside the fire. It was growing dusk. The distant +snow-ridge was swiftly fading into a pale and ghostly sheet in the gray +gloom of the night. Up that ridge Aldous knew that MacDonald was toiling. + +Joanne put her hands to his shoulders. + +"Are you sorry--so very, very sorry that you let me come, John?" + +"I didn't let you come," he laughed softly, drawing her to him. "You came!" + +"And are you sorry?" + +"No." + +It was deliciously sweet to have her tilt up her head and put her soft lips +to his, and it was still sweeter when her tender hands stroked his cheeks, +and eyes and lips smiled their love and gladness. He stood stroking her +hair, with her face laying warm and close against him, and over her head he +stared into the thickening darkness of the spruce and cedar copses. Joanne +herself had piled wood on the fire, and in its glow they were dangerously +illuminated. With one of her hands she was still caressing his cheek. + +"When will Donald return?" she asked. + +"Probably not until late," he replied, wondering what it was that had set a +stone rolling down the side of the mountain nearest to them. "He hunted +until dark, and may wait for the moon to come up before he returns." + +"John----" + +"Yes, dear?----" And mentally he measured the distance to the nearest clump +of timber between them and the mountain. + +"Let's build a big fire, and sit down on the pannier canvases." + +His eyes were still on the timber, and he was wondering what a man with a +rifle, or even a pistol, might do at that space. He made a good target, and +MacDonald was probably several miles away. + +"I've been thinking about the fire," he said. "We must put it out, Joanne. +There are reasons why we should not let it burn. For one thing, the smoke +will drive any game away that we may hope to see in the morning." + +Her hands lay still against his cheek. + +"I--understand, John," she replied quickly, and there was the smallest bit +of a shudder in her voice. "I had forgotten. We must put it out!" + +Five minutes later only a few glowing embers remained where the fire had +been. He had spread out the pannier canvases, and now he seated himself +with his back to a tree. Joanne snuggled close to him. + +"It is much nicer in the dark," she whispered, and her arms reached up +about him, and her lips pressed warm and soft against his hand. "Are you +just a little ashamed of me, John?" + +"Ashamed? Good heaven----" + +"Because," she interrupted him, "we have known each other such a very short +time, and I have allowed myself to become so very, very well acquainted +with you. It has all been so delightfully sudden, and strange, and I +am--just as happy as I can be. You don't think it is immodest for me to say +these things to my husband, John--even if I have only known him three +days?" + +He answered by crushing her so closely in his arms that for a few moments +afterward she lay helplessly on his breast, gasping for breath. His brain +was afire with the joyous madness of possession. Never had woman come to +man more sweetly than Joanne had come to him, and as he felt her throbbing +and trembling against him he was ready to rise up and shout forth a +challenge to a hundred Quades and Culver Ranns hiding in the darkness of +the mountains. For a long time he held her nestled close in his arms, and +at intervals there were silences between them, in which they listened to +the glad tumult of their own hearts, and the strange silence that came to +them from out of the still night. + +It was their first hour alone--of utter oblivion to all else but +themselves; to Joanne the first sacrament hour of her wifehood, to him the +first hour of perfect possession and understanding. In that hour their +souls became one, and when at last they rose to their feet, and the moon +came up over a crag of the mountain and flooded them in its golden light, +there was in Joanne's face a tenderness and a gentle glory that made John +Aldous think of an angel. He led her to the tepee, and lighted a candle +for her, and at the last, with the sweet demand of a child in the manner of +her doing it, she pursed up her lips to be kissed good-night. + +And when he had tied the tent-flap behind her, he took his rifle and sat +down with it across his knees in the deep black shadow of a spruce, and +waited and listened for the coming of Donald MacDonald. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +For an hour after Joanne had gone into her tent Aldous sat silent and +watchful. From where he had concealed himself he could see over a part of +the moonlit basin, and guard the open space between the camp and the clump +of timber that lay in the direction of the nearest mountain. After Joanne +had blown out her candle the silence of the night seemed to grow deeper +about him. The hobbled horses had wandered several hundred yards away, and +only now and then could he hear the thud of a hoof, or the clank of a steel +shoe on rock. He believed that it was impossible for any one to approach +without ears and eyes giving him warning, and he felt a distinct shock when +Donald MacDonald suddenly appeared in the moonlight not twenty paces from +him. With an ejaculation of amazement he jumped to his feet and went to +him. + +"How the deuce did you get here?" he demanded. + +"Were you asleep, Johnny?" + +"I was awake--and watching!" + +The old hunter chuckled. + +"It was so still when I come to those trees back there that I thought mebby +something had 'appened," he said. + +"So, I sneaked up, Johnny." + +"Did you see anything over the range?" asked Aldous anxiously. + +"I found footprints in the snow, an' when I got to the top I smelled smoke, +but couldn't see a fire. It was dark then." MacDonald nodded toward the +tepee. "Is she asleep, Johnny?" + +"I think so. She must be very tired." + +They drew back into the shadow of the spruce. It was a simultaneous +movement of caution, and both, without speaking their thoughts, realized +the significance of it. Until now they had had no opportunity of being +alone since last night. + +MacDonald spoke in a low, muffled voice: + +"Quade an' Culver Rann are goin' the limit, Johnny," he said. "They left +men on the job at Tête Jaune, and they've got others watching us. +Consequently, I've hit on a scheme--a sort of simple and unreasonable +scheme, mebby, but an awful good scheme at times." + +"What is it?" + +"Whenever you see anything that ain't a bear, or a goat, or a sheep, don't +wait to change the time o' day--but shoot!" said MacDonald. + +Aldous smiled grimly. + +"If I had any ideas of chivalry, or what I call fair play, they were taken +out of me last night, Mac," he said. "I'm ready to shoot on sight!" + +MacDonald grunted his satisfaction. + +"They can't beat us if we do that, Johnny. They ain't even ordinary +cut-throats--they're sneaks in the bargain; an' if they could walk in our +camp, smilin' an' friendly, and brain us when our backs was turned, they'd +do it. We don't know who's with them, and if a stranger heaves in sight +meet him with a chunk o' lead. They're the only ones in these mountains, +an' we won't make any mistake. See that bunch of spruce over there?" + +The old hunter pointed to a clump fifty yards beyond the tepee toward the +little lake. Aldous nodded. + +"I'll take my blankets over there," continued MacDonald. "You roll yourself +up here, and the tepee'll be between us. You see the system, Johnny? If +they make us a visit during the night we've got 'em between us, and +there'll be some real burying to do in the morning!" + +Back under the low-hanging boughs of the dwarf spruce Aldous spread out his +blanket a few minutes later. He had made up his mind not to sleep, and for +hours he lay watchful and waiting, smoking occasionally, with his face +close to the ground so that the odour of tobacco would cling to the earth. +The moon rose until it was straight overhead, flooding the valley in a +golden splendour that he wished Joanne might have seen. Then it began +sinking into the west; slowly at first, and then more swiftly, its radiance +diminished. He looked at his watch before the yellow orb effaced itself +behind the towering peak of a distant mountain. It was a quarter of two. + +With deepening darkness, his eyes grew heavier. He closed them for a few +moments at a time; and each time the interval was longer, and it took +greater effort to force himself into wakefulness. Finally he slept. But he +was still subconsciously on guard, and an hour later that consciousness was +beating and pounding within him, urging him to awake. He sat up with a +start and gripped his rifle. An owl was hooting--softly, very softly. There +were four notes. He answered, and a little later MacDonald came like a +shadow out of the gloom. Aldous advanced to meet him, and he noticed that +over the eastern mountains there was a break of gray. + +"It's after three, Johnny," MacDonald greeted him. "Build a fire and get +breakfast. Tell Joanne I'm out after another sheep. Until it's good an' +light I'm going to watch from that clump of timber up there. In half an +hour it'll be dawn." + +He moved toward the timber, and Aldous set about building a fire. He was +careful not to awaken Joanne. The fire was crackling cheerily when he went +to the lake for water. Returning he saw the faint glow of candlelight in +Joanne's tepee. Five minutes later she appeared, and all thought of danger, +and the discomfort of his sleepless night, passed from him at sight of her. +Her eyes were still a little misty with sleep when he took her in his arms +and kissed her, but she was deliciously alive, and glad, and happy. In one +hand she had brought a brush and in the other a comb. + +"You slept like a log," he cried happily. "It can't be that you had very +bad dreams, little wife?" + +"I had a beautiful dream, John," she laughed softly, and the colour flooded +up into her face. + +She unplaited the thick silken strands of her braid and began brushing her +hair in the firelight, while Aldous sliced the bacon. Some of the slices +were thick, and some were thin, for he could not keep his eyes from her as +she stood there like a goddess, buried almost to her knees in that wondrous +mantle. He found himself whistling with a very light heart as she braided +her hair, and afterward plunged her face in a bath of cold water he had +brought from the lake. From that bath she emerged like a glowing Naiad. +Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were pink and her lips full and red. Damp +little tendrils of hair clung adorably about her face and neck. For another +full minute Aldous paused in his labours, and he wondered if MacDonald was +watching them from the clump of timber. The bacon was sputtering when +Joanne ran to it and rescued it from burning. + +Dawn followed quickly after that first break of day in the east, but not +until one could see a full rifle-shot away did MacDonald return to the +camp. Breakfast was waiting, and as soon as he had finished the old hunter +went after the horses. It was five o'clock, and bars of the sun were +shooting over the tops of the mountains when once more they were in the +saddle and on their way. + +Most of this day Aldous headed the outfit up the valley. On the pretext of +searching for game MacDonald rode so far in advance that only twice during +the forenoon was he in sight. When they stopped to camp for the night his +horse was almost exhausted, and MacDonald himself showed signs of +tremendous physical effort. Aldous could not question him before Joanne. He +waited. And MacDonald was strangely silent. + +The proof of MacDonald's prediction concerning Joanne was in evidence this +second night. Every bone in her body ached, and she was so tired that she +made no objection to going to her bed as soon as it was dark. + +"It always happens like this," consoled old Donald, as she bade him +good-night. "To-morrow you'll begin gettin' broke in, an' the next day you +won't have any lameness at all." + +She limped to the tepee with John's arm snugly about her slim waist. +MacDonald waited patiently until he returned. He motioned Aldous to seat +himself close at his side. Both men lighted their pipes before the +mountaineer spoke. + +"We can't both sleep at once to-night, Johnny," he said. "We've got to take +turns keeping watch." + +"You've discovered something to-day?" + +"No. It's what I haven't discovered that counts. There weren't no tracks in +this valley, Johnny, from mount'in to mount'in. They haven't travelled +through this range, an' that leaves just two things for us to figger on. +They're behind us--or DeBar is hitting another trail into the north. There +isn't no danger ahead right now, because we're gettin' into the biggest +ranges between here an' the Yukon. If Quade and Rann are in the next valley +they can't get over the mount'ins to get at us. Quade, with all his flesh, +couldn't climb over that range to the west of us inside o' three days, if +he could get over it at all. They're hikin' straight for the gold over +another trail, or they're behind us, an' mebby both." + +"How--both?" asked Aldous. + +"Two parties," explained MacDonald, puffing hard at his pipe. "If there's +an outfit behind us they were hid in the timber on the other side of the +snow-ridge, and they're pretty close this minute. Culver Rann--or FitzHugh, +as you call him--is hustling straight on with DeBar. Mebby Quade is with +him, an' mebby he ain't. Anyway, there's a big chance of a bunch behind us +with special instructions from Quade to cut our throats and keep Joanne." + +That day Aldous had been turning a question over in his own mind. He asked +it now. + +"Mac, are you sure you can go to the valley of gold without DeBar?" + +For a long half minute MacDonald looked at him, and then his voice rumbled +in a low, exultant laugh in his beard. + +"Johnny," he said, with a strange quiver in his voice, "I can go to it now +straighter an' quicker than DeBar! I know why I never found it. DeBar +helped me that much. The trail is mapped right out in my brain now, Johnny. +Five years ago I was within ten miles of the cavern--an' didn't know it!" + +"And we can get there ahead of them?" + +"We could--if it wasn't for Joanne. We're makin' twenty miles a day. We +could make thirty." + +"If we could beat them to it!" exclaimed Aldous, clenching his hands. "If +we only could, Donald--the rest would be easy!" + +MacDonald laid a heavy hand on his knee. + +"You remember what you told me, Johnny, that you'd play the game fair, and +give 'em a first chance? You ain't figgerin' on that now, be you?" + +"No, I'm with you now, Donald. It's----" + +"Shoot on sight!" + +"Yes." + +Aldous rose from his seat as he spoke. + +"You turn in, Mac," he said. "You're about bushed after the work you've +done to-day. I'll keep first watch. I'll conceal myself fifty or sixty +yards from camp, and if we have visitors before midnight the fun will all +be mine." + +He knew that MacDonald was asleep within fifteen minutes after he had +stationed himself at his post. In spite of the fact that he had had almost +no sleep the preceding night, he was more than usually wakeful. He was +filled with a curious feeling that events were impending. Yet the hours +passed, the moon flooded the valley again, the horses grazed without alarm, +and nothing happened. He had planned not to awaken old Donald at midnight, +but MacDonald roused himself, and came to take his place a little before +twelve. From that hour until four Aldous slept like the dead. He was +tremendously refreshed when he arose, to find that the candle was alight in +Joanne's tepee, and that MacDonald had built a fire. He waited for Joanne, +and went with her to the tiny creek near the camp, where both bathed their +faces in the snow-cold water from the mountain tops. Joanne had slept +soundly for eight hours, and she was as fresh and as happy as a bird. Her +lameness was almost gone, and she was eager for the day's journey. + +As they filed again up the valley that morning, with the early sun +transfiguring the great snow-topped ranges about them into a paradise of +colour and warmth, Aldous found himself mentally wondering if it were +really possible that a serious danger menaced them. He did not tell +MacDonald what was in his mind. He did not confess that he was about ready +to believe that the man on the snow-ridge had been a hunter or a prospector +returning to his camp in the other valley, and that the attack in Tête +Jaune was the one and only effort Quade would make to secure possession of +Joanne. While a few hours before he had almost expected an immediate +attack, he was now becoming more and more convinced that Quade, to a large +extent, had dropped out of the situation. He might be with Mortimer +FitzHugh, and probably was--a dangerous and formidable enemy to be +accounted for when the final settlement came. + +But as an immediate menace to Joanne, Aldous was beginning to fear him less +as the hours passed. Joanne, and the day itself, were sufficient to disarm +him of his former apprehension. In places they could see for miles ahead +and behind them. And Joanne, each time that he looked at her, was a greater +joy to him. Constantly she was pointing out the wonders of the mountains to +him and MacDonald. Each new rise or fall in the valley held fresh and +delightful surprises for her; in the craggy peaks she pointed out +castlements, and towers, and battlemented strongholds of ancient princes +and kings. Her mind was a wild and beautiful riot of imagination, of +wonder, and of happiness, and in spite of the grimness of the mission they +were on even MacDonald found himself rejoicing in her spirit, and he +laughed and talked with them as they rode into the North. + +They were entering now into a hunter's paradise. For the first time Joanne +saw white, moving dots far up on a mountain-side, which MacDonald told her +were goats. In the afternoon they saw mountain sheep feeding on a slide +half a mile away, and for ten breathless minutes Joanne watched them +through the telescope. Twice caribou sped over the opens ahead of them. But +it was not until the sun was settling toward the west again that Joanne saw +what she had been vainly searching the sides of the mountains to find. +MacDonald had stopped suddenly in the trail, motioning them to advance. +When they rode up to him he pointed to a green slope two hundred yards +ahead. + +"There's yo'r grizzly, Joanne," he said. + +A huge, tawny beast was ambling slowly along the crest of the slope, and at +sight of him Joanne gave a little cry of excitement. + +"He's hunting for gophers," explained MacDonald. + +"That's why he don't seem in a hurry. He don't see us because a b'ar's eyes +are near-sighted, but he could smell us half a mile away if the wind was +right." + +He was unslinging his long rifle as he spoke. Joanne was near enough to +catch his arm. + +"Don't shoot--please don't shoot!" she begged. "I've seen lions, and I've +seen tigers--and they're treacherous and I don't like them. But there's +something about bears that I love, like dogs. And the lion isn't a king +among beasts compared with him. Please don't shoot!" + +"I ain't a-goin' to," chuckled old Donald. "I'm just getting ready to give +'im the proper sort of a handshake if he should happen to come this way, +Joanne. You know a grizzly ain't pertic'lar afraid of anything on earth as +I know of, an' they're worse 'n a dynamite explosion when they come +head-on. There--he's goin' over the slope!" + +"Got our wind," said Aldous. + +They went on, a colour in Joanne's face like the vivid sunset. They camped +two hours before dusk, and MacDonald figured they had made better than +twenty miles that day. The same precautions were observed in guarding the +camp as the night before, and the long hours of vigil were equally +uneventful. The next day added still more to Aldous' peace of mind +regarding possible attack from Quade, and on the night of this day, their +fourth in the mountains, he spoke his mind to MacDonald. + +For a few moments afterward the old hunter smoked quietly at his pipe. Then +he said: + +"I don't know but you're right, Johnny. If they were behind us they'd most +likely have tried something before this. But it ain't in the law of the +mount'ins to be careless. We've got to watch." + +"I agree with you there, Mac," replied Aldous. "We cannot afford to lose +our caution for a minute. But I'm feeling a deuced sight better over the +situation just the same. If we can only get there ahead of them!" + +"If Quade is in the bunch we've got a chance of beating them," said +MacDonald thoughtfully. "He's heavy, Johnny--that sort of heaviness that +don't stand up well in the mount'ins; whisky-flesh, I call it. Culver Rann +don't weigh much more'n half as much, but he's like iron. Quade may be a +drag. An' Joanne, Lord bless her!--she's facing the music like an' 'ero, +Johnny!" + +"And the journey is almost half over." + +"This is the fourth day. I figger we can make it in ten at most, mebby +nine," said old Donald. "You see we're in that part of the Rockies where +there's real mount'ins, an' the ranges ain't broke up much. We've got +fairly good travel to the end." + +On this night Aldous slept from eight until twelve. The next, their fifth, +his watch was from midnight until morning. As the sixth and the seventh +days and nights passed uneventfully the belief that there were no enemies +behind them became a certainty. Yet neither Aldous nor MacDonald relaxed +their vigilance. + +The eighth day dawned, and now a new excitement took possession of Donald +MacDonald. Joanne and Aldous saw his efforts to suppress it, but it did not +escape their eyes. They were nearing the tragic scenes of long ago, and old +Donald was about to reap the reward of a search that had gone faithfully +and untiringly through the winters and summers of forty years. He spoke +seldom that day. There were strange lights in his eyes. And once his voice +was husky and strained when he said to Aldous: + +"I guess we'll make it to-morrow, Johnny--jus' about as the sun's going +down." + +They camped early, and Aldous rolled himself in his blanket when Joanne +extinguished the candle in her tent. He found that he could not sleep, and +he relieved MacDonald at eleven o'clock. + +"Get all the rest you can, Mac," he urged. "There may be doings +to-morrow--at about sundown." + +There was but little moonlight now, but the stars were clear. He lighted +his pipe, and with his rifle in the crook of his arm he walked slowly up +and down over a hundred-yard stretch of the narrow plain in which they had +camped. That night they had built their fire beside a fallen log, which was +now a glowing mass without flame. Finally he sat down with his back to a +rock fifty paces from Joanne's tepee. It was a splendid night. The air was +cool and sweet. He leaned back until his head rested against the rock, and +there fell upon him the fatal temptation to close his eyes and snatch a few +minutes of the slumber which had not come to him during the early hours of +the night. He was in a doze, oblivious to movement and the softer sounds of +the night, when a cry pierced the struggling consciousness of his brain +like the sting of a dart. In an instant he was on his feet. + +In the red glow of the log stood Joanne in her long white night robe. She +seemed to be swaying when he first saw her. Her hands were clutched at her +bosom, and she was staring--staring out into the night beyond the burning +log, and in her face was a look of terror. He sprang toward her, and out of +the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald. With a cry she turned to +Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms. +Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald +MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands. + +"What is it?" cried Aldous. "What has frightened you, Joanne?" + +She was shuddering against his breast. + +"It--it must have been a dream," she said. "It--it frightened me. But it +was so terrible, and I'm--I'm sorry, John. I didn't know what I was doing." + +"What was it, dear?" insisted Aldous. + +MacDonald had drawn very close. + +Joanne raised her head. + +"Please let me go back to bed, John. It was only a dream, and I'll tell it +to you in the morning, when there's sunshine--and day." + +Something in MacDonald's tense, listening attitude caught Aldous' eyes. + +"What was the dream?" he urged. + +She looked from him to old Donald, and shivered. + +"The flap of my tepee was open," she said slowly. "I thought I was awake. I +thought I could see the glow of the fire. But it was a dream--a _dream_, +only it was horrible! For as I looked I saw a face out there in the light, +a white, searching face--and it was his face!" + +"Whose face?" + +"Mortimer FitzHugh's," she shuddered. + +Tenderly Aldous led her back to the tent. + +"Yes, it was surely an unpleasant dream, dear," he comforted her. "Try and +sleep again. You must get all the rest you can." + +He closed the flap after her, and turned back toward MacDonald. The old +hunter had disappeared. It was ten minutes before he came in from out of +the darkness. He went straight to Aldous. + +"Johnny, you was asleep!" + +"I'm afraid I was, Mac--just for a minute." + +MacDonald's fingers gripped his arm. + +"Jus' for a minute, Johnny--an' in that minute you lost the chance of your +life!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean"--and old Donald's voice was filled with a low, choking tremble +that Aldous had never heard in it before--"I mean that it weren't no dream, +Johnny! Mortimer FitzHugh was in this camp to-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Donald MacDonald's startling assertion that Mortimer FitzHugh had been in +the camp, and that Joanne's dream was not a dream, but reality, brought a +gasp of astonishment and disbelief from Aldous. Before he had recovered +sufficiently from his amazement to speak, MacDonald was answering the +question in his mind. + +"I woke quicker'n you, Johnny," he said. "She was just coming out of the +tepee, an' I heard something running off through the brush. I thought mebby +it was a wolverine, or a bear, an' I didn't move until she cried out your +name an' you jumped up. If she had seen a bear in the fire-glow she +wouldn't have thought it was Mortimer FitzHugh, would she? It's possible, +but it ain't likely, though I do say it's mighty queer why he should be in +this camp alone. It's up to us to watch pretty close until daylight." + +"He wouldn't be here alone," asserted Aldous. "Let's get out of the light, +Mac. If you're right, the whole gang isn't far away!" + +"They ain't in rifle-shot," said MacDonald. "I heard him running a hundred +yards out there. That's the queer thing about it! Why didn't they jump on +us when they had the chance?" + +"We'll hope that it was a dream," replied Aldous. "If Joanne was dreaming +of FitzHugh, and while still half asleep saw something in camp, she might +easily imagine the rest. But we'll keep watch. Shall I move out there?" + +MacDonald nodded, and the two men separated. For two hours they patrolled +the darkness, waiting and listening. With dawn Aldous returned to camp to +arouse Joanne and begin breakfast. He was anxious to see what effect the +incident of the night had on her. Her appearance reassured him. When he +referred to the dream, and the manner in which she had come out into the +night, a lovely confusion sent the blushes into her face. He kissed her +until they grew deeper, and she hid her face on his neck. + +And then she whispered something, with her face still against his shoulder, +that drove the hot blood into his own cheeks. + +"You are my husband, John, and I don't suppose I should be ashamed to let +you see me in my bare feet. But, John--you have made me feel that way, and +I am--your wife!" + +He held her head close against him so that she could not see his face. + +"I wanted to show you--that I loved you--'that much," he said, scarcely +knowing what words he was speaking. "Joanne, my darling----" + +A soft hand closed his lips. + +"I know, John," she interrupted him softly. "And I love you so for it, and +I'm so proud of you--oh, so proud, John!" + +He was glad that MacDonald came crashing through the bush then. Joanne +slipped from his arms and ran into the tepee. + +In MacDonald's face was a grim and sullen look. + +"You missed your chance, all right, Johnny," he growled. "I found where a +horse was tied out there. The tracks lead to a big slide of rock that opens +a break in the west range. Whoever it was has beat it back into the other +valley. I can't understand, s'elp me God, I can't, Johnny! Why should +FitzHugh come over into this valley alone? And he _rode_ over! I'd say the +devil couldn't do that!" + +He said nothing more, but went out to lead in the hobbled horses, leaving +Aldous in half-stunned wonderment to finish the preparation of breakfast. +Joanne reappeared a little later, and helped him. It was six o'clock before +breakfast was over and they were ready to begin their day's journey. As +they were throwing the hitch over the last pack, MacDonald said in a low +voice to Aldous: + +"Everything may happen to-day, Johnny. I figger we'll reach the end by +sundown. An' what don't happen there may happen along the trail. Keep a +rifle-shot behind with Joanne. If there's unexpected shooting, we want what +you might call a reserve force in the rear. I figger I can see danger, if +there is any, an' I can do it best alone." + +Aldous knew that in these last hours Donald MacDonald's judgment must be +final, and he made no objection to an arrangement which seemed to place the +old hunter under a more hazardous risk than his own. And he realized fully +that these were the last hours. For the first time he had seen MacDonald +fill his pockets with the finger-long cartridges for his rifle, and he had +noted how carefully he had looked at the breech of that rifle. Without +questioning, he had followed the mountaineer's example. There were fifty +spare cartridges in his own pockets. His .303 was freshly cleaned and +oiled. He had tested the mechanism of his automatic. MacDonald had watched +him, and both understood what such preparations meant as they set out on +this last day's journey into the North. They had not kept from Joanne the +fact that they would reach the end before night, and as they rode the +prescribed distance behind the old hunter Aldous wondered how much she +guessed, and what she knew. They had given her to understand that they were +beating out the rival party, but he believed that in spite of all their +efforts there was in Joanne's mind a comprehension which she did not reveal +in voice or look. To-day she was no different than yesterday, or the day +before, except that her cheeks were not so deeply flushed, and there was an +uneasy questing in her eyes. He believed that she sensed the nearness of +tragedy, that she was conscious of what they were now trying to hide from +her, and that she did not speak because she knew that he and MacDonald did +not want her to know. His heart throbbed with pride. Her courage inspired +him. And he noticed that she rode closer to him--always at his side through +that day. + +Early in the afternoon MacDonald stopped on the crest of a swell in the +valley and waited for them. When they came up he was facing the north. He +did not look at them. For a few moments he did not speak. His hat was +pulled low, and his beard was twitching. + +They looked ahead. At their feet the valley broadened until it was a mile +in width. Half a mile away a band of caribou were running for the cover of +a parklike clump of timber. MacDonald did not seem to notice them. He was +still looking steadily, and he was gazing at a mountain. It was a +tremendous mountain, a terrible-looking, ugly mountain, perhaps three miles +away. Aldous had never seen another like it. Its two huge shoulders were of +almost ebon blackness, and glistened in the sunlight as if smeared with +oil. Between those two shoulders rose a cathedral-like spire of rock and +snow that seemed to tip the white fleece of the clouds. + +MacDonald did not turn when he spoke. His voice was deep and vibrant with +an intense emotion. Yet he was not excited. + +"I've been hunting for that mount'in for forty years, Johnny!" + +"Mac!" + +Aldous leaned over and laid a hand on the old mountaineer's shoulder. Still +MacDonald did not look at him. + +"Forty years," he repeated, as if speaking to himself. "I see how I missed +it now, just as DeBar said. I hunted from the west, an' on that side the +mount'in ain't black. We must have crossed this valley an' come in from the +east forty years ago, Johnny----" + +He turned now, and what Joanne and Aldous saw in his face was not grief; it +was not the sorrow of one drawing near to his beloved dead, but a joy that +had transfigured him. The fire and strength of the youth in which he had +first looked upon this valley with Jane at his side burned again in the +sunken eyes of Donald MacDonald. After forty years he had come into his +own. Somewhere very near was the cavern with the soft white floor of sand, +and for a moment Aldous fancied that he could hear the beating of +MacDonald's heart, while from Joanne's tender bosom there rose a deep, +sobbing breath of understanding. + +And MacDonald, facing the mountain again, pointed with a long, gaunt arm, +and said: + +"We're almost there, Johnny. God ha' mercy on them if they've beat us out!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +They rode on into the Valley of Gold. Again MacDonald took the lead, and he +rode straight into the face of the black mountain. Aldous no longer made an +effort to keep Joanne in ignorance of what might be ahead of them. He put a +sixth cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, and carried the weapon +across the pommel of his saddle. He explained to her now why they were +riding behind--that if their enemies were laying in wait for them, +MacDonald, alone, could make a swift retreat. Joanne asked no questions. +Her lips were set tight. She was pale. + +At the end of three quarters of an hour it seemed to them that MacDonald +was riding directly into the face of a wall of rock. Then he swung sharply +to the left, and disappeared. When they came to the point where he had +turned they found that he had entered a concealed break in the mountain--a +chasm with walls that rose almost perpendicular for a thousand feet above +their heads. A dark and solemn gloom pervaded this chasm, and Aldous drew +nearer to MacDonald, his rifle held in readiness, and his bridle-rein +fastened to his saddle-horn. The chasm was short. Sunlight burst upon them +suddenly, and a few minutes later MacDonald waited for them again. + +Even Aldous could not restrain an exclamation of surprise when he rode up +with Joanne. Under them was another valley, a wide-sweeping valley between +two rugged ranges that ran to the southwest. Up out of it there came to +their ears a steady, rumbling roar; the air was filled with that roar; the +earth seemed to tremble with it under their feet--and yet it was not loud. +It came sullenly, as if from a great distance. + +And then they saw that MacDonald was not looking out over the sweep of the +valley, but down. Half a mile under them there was a dip--a valley within a +valley--and through it ran the silver sheen of a stream. MacDonald spoke no +word now. He dismounted and levelled his long telescope at the little +valley. Aldous helped Joanne from her horse, and they waited. A great +breath came at last from the old hunter. Slowly he turned. He did not give +the telescope to Aldous, but to Joanne. She looked. For a full minute she +seemed scarcely to breathe. Her hands trembled when she turned to give the +glass to Aldous. + +"I see--log cabins!" she whispered. + +MacDonald placed a detaining hand on her arm. + +"Look ag'in--Joanne," he said in a low voice that had in it a curious +quiver. + +Again she raised the telescope to her eyes. + +"You see the little cabin--nearest the river?" whispered Donald. + +"Yes, I see it." + +"That was our cabin--Jane's an' mine--forty years ago," he said, and now +his voice was husky. + +Joanne's breath broke sobbingly as she gave Aldous the glass. Something +seemed to choke him as he looked down upon the scene of the grim tragedy +in which Donald MacDonald and Jane had played their fatal part. He saw the +cabins as they had stood for nearly half a century. There were four. Three +of them were small, and the fourth was large. They might have been built +yesterday, for all that he could see of ruin or decay. The doors and +windows of the larger cabin and two of the smaller ones were closed. The +roofs were unbroken. The walls appeared solid. Twice he looked at the +fourth cabin, with its wide-open door and window, and twice he looked at +the cabin nearest the stream, where had lived Donald MacDonald and Jane. + +Donald had moved, and Joanne was watching him tensely, when he took the +glass from his eyes. Mutely the old mountaineer held out a hand, and Aldous +gave him the telescope. Crouching behind a rock he slowly swept the valley. +For half an hour he looked through the glass, and in that time scarce a +word was spoken. During the last five minutes of that half-hour both Joanne +and Aldous knew that MacDonald was looking at the little cabin nearest the +stream, and with hands clasped tightly they waited in silence. + +At last old Donald rose, and his face and voice were filled with a +wonderful calm. + +"There ain't been no change," he said softly. "I can see the log in front +o' the door that I used to cut kindling on. It was too tough for them to +split an' burn after we left. An' I can see the tub I made out o' spruce +for Jane. It's leaning next the door, where I put it the day before we went +away. Forty years ain't very long, Johnny! It ain't very long!" + +Joanne had turned from them, and Aldous knew that she was crying. + +"An' we've beat 'em to it, Johnny--we've beat 'em to it!" exulted +MacDonald. "There ain't a sign of life in the valley, and we sure could +make it out from here if there was!" + +He climbed into his saddle, and started down the slope of the mountain. +Aldous went to Joanne. She was sobbing. Her eyes were blinded by tears. + +"It's terrible, terrible," she whispered brokenly. "And it--it's beautiful, +John. I feel as though I'd like to give my life--to bring Jane back!" + +"You must not betray tears or grief to Donald," said Aldous, drawing her +close in his arms for a moment. "Joanne--sweetheart--it is a wonderful +thing that is happening with him! I dreaded this day--I have dreaded it for +a long time. I thought that it would be terrible to witness the grief of a +man with a heart like Donald's. But he is not filled with grief, Joanne. It +is joy, a great happiness that perhaps neither you nor I can +understand--that has come to him now. Don't you understand? He has found +her. He has found their old home. To-day is the culmination of forty years +of hope, and faith, and prayer. And it does not bring him sorrow, but +gladness. We must rejoice with him. We must be happy with him. I love you, +Joanne. I love you above all else on earth or in heaven. Without you I +would not want to live. And yet, Joanne, I believe that I am no happier +to-day than is Donald MacDonald!" + +With a sudden cry Joanne flung her arms about his neck. + +"John, is it _that?_" she cried, and joy shone through her tears. "Yes, +yes, I understand now! His heart is not breaking. It is life returning into +a heart that was empty. I understand--oh, I understand now! And we must be +happy with him. We must be happy when we find the cavern--and Jane!" + +"And when we go down there to the little cabin that was their home." + +"Yes--yes!" + +They followed behind MacDonald. After a little a spur of the mountain-side +shut out the little valley from them, and when they rounded this they found +themselves very near to the cabins. They rode down a beautiful slope into +the basin, and when he reached the log buildings old Donald stopped and +dismounted. Again Aldous helped Joanne from her horse. Ahead of them +MacDonald went to the cabin nearest the stream. At the door he paused and +waited for them. + +"Forty years!" he said, facing them. "An' there ain't been so very much +change as I can see!" + +Years had dropped from his shoulders in these last few minutes, and even +Aldous could not keep quite out of his face his amazement and wonder. Very +gently Donald put his hand to the latch, as though fearing to awaken some +one within; and very gently he pressed down on it, and put a bit of his +strength against the door. It moved inward, and when it had opened +sufficiently he leaned forward so that his head and a half of his shoulders +were inside; and he looked--a long time he looked, without a movement of +his body or a breath that they could see. + +And then he turned to them again, and his eyes were shining as they had +never seen them shine before. + +"I'll open the window," he said. "It's dark--dark inside." + +He went to the window, which was closed with a sapling barricade that had +swung on hinges; and when he swung it back the rusted hinges gave way, and +the thing crashed down at his feet. And now through the open window the sun +poured in a warm radiance, and Donald entered the cabin, with Joanne and +Aldous close behind him. + +There was not much in the cabin, but what it held was earth, and heaven, +and all else to Donald MacDonald. A strange, glad cry surged from his chest +as he looked about him, and now Joanne saw and understood what John Aldous +had told her--for Donald MacDonald, after forty years, had come back to his +home! + +"Oh, my Gawd, Johnny, they didn't touch anything! They didn't touch +anything!" he breathed in ecstasy. "I thought after we ran away they'd come +in----" + +He broke off, and his hat dropped from his hand, and he stood and stared; +and what he was looking at, the sun fell upon in a great golden splash, and +Joanne's hand gripped John's, and held to it tightly. Against the wall, +hanging as they had hung for forty years, were a woman's garments: a hood, +a shawl, a dress, and an apron that was half in tatters; and on the floor +under these things were _a pair of shoes_. And as Donald MacDonald went to +them, his arms reaching out, his lips moving, forgetful of all things but +that he had come home, and Jane was here, Joanne drew Aldous softly to the +door, and they went out into the day. + +Joanne did not speak, and Aldous did not urge her. He saw her white throat +throbbing as if there were a little heart beating there, and her eyes were +big and dark and velvety, like the eyes of a fawn that had been frightened. +There was a thickness in his own throat, and he found that it was difficult +for him to see far out over the plain. They waited near the horses. Fifty +yards from them ran the stream; a clear, beautiful stream which flowed in +the direction from which the mysterious ramble of thunder seemed to come. +This, Aldous knew, was the stream of gold. In the sand he saw wreckage +which he knew were the ancient rockers; a shovel, thrust shaft-deep, still +remained where it had last been planted. + +Perhaps for ten minutes Donald MacDonald remained in the cabin. Then he +came out. Very carefully he closed the door. His shoulders were thrown +back. His head was held high. He looked like a monarch. + +And his voice was calm. + +"Everything is there, Johnny--everything but the gold," he said. "They took +that." + +Now he spoke to Joanne. + +"You better not go with us into the other cabins," he said. + +"Why?" she asked softly. + +"Because--there's death in them all." + +"I am going," she said. + +From the window of the largest cabin MacDonald pulled the sapling shutter, +and, like the other, it fell at his feet. Then they opened the door, and +entered; and here the sunlight revealed the cabin's ghastly tragedy. The +first thing that they saw, because it was most terrible, was a rough table, +half over which lay the shrunken thing that had once been a man. A part of +its clothes still remained, but the head had broken from its column, and +the white and fleshless skull lay facing them. Out of tattered and +dust-crumbling sleeves reached the naked bones of hands and arms. And on +the floor lay another of these things, in a crumpled and huddled heap, only +the back of the skull showing, like the polished pate of a bald man. These +things they saw first, and then two others: on the table were a heap of +age-blackened and dusty sacks, and out of the back of the crumbling thing +that guarded them stuck the long buckhorn hilt of a knife. + +"They must ha' died fighting," said MacDonald. "An' there, Johnny, is their +gold!" + +White as death Joanne stood in the door and watched them. MacDonald and +Aldous went to the sacks. They were of buckskin. The years had not aged +them. When Aldous took one in his hands he found that it was heavier than +lead. With his knife MacDonald cut a slit in one of them, and the sun that +came through the window flashed in a little golden stream that ran from the +bag. + +"We'll take them out and put 'em in a pannier," said MacDonald. "The others +won't be far behind us, Johnny." + +Between them they carried out the seven sacks of gold. It was a load for +their arms. They put it in one of the panniers, and then MacDonald nodded +toward the cabin next the one that had been his own. + +"I wouldn't go in there, Joanne," he said. + +"I'm going," she whispered again. + +"It was _their_ cabin--the man an' his wife," persisted old Donald. "An' +the men was beasts, Joanne! I don't know what happened in there--but I +guess." + +"I'm going," she said again. + +MacDonald pulled down the barricade from the window--a window that also +faced the south and west, and this time he had to thrust against the door +with his shoulder. They entered, and now a cry came from Joanne's lips--a +cry that had in it horror, disbelief, a woman's wrath. Against the wall was +a pile of something, and on that pile was the searching first light of day +that had fallen upon it for nearly half a century. The pile was a man +crumpled down; across it, her skeleton arms thrown about it protectingly, +was a woman. This time Aldous did not go forward. MacDonald was alone, and +Aldous took Joanne from the cabin, and held her while she swayed in his +arms. Donald came out a little later, and there was a curious look of +exultation and triumph in his face. + +"She killed herself," he said. "That was her husband. I know him. I gave +him the rock-nails he put in the soles of his boots--and the nails are +still there." + +He went alone into the remaining two cabins, while Aldous stood with +Joanne. He did not stay long. From the fourth cabin he brought an armful of +the little brown sacks. He returned, and brought a second armful. + +"There's three more in that last cabin," he explained. "Two men, an' a +woman. She must ha' been the wife of the man they killed. They were the +last to live, an' they starved to death. An' now, Johnny----" + +He paused, and he drew in a great breath. + +He was looking to the west, where the sun was beginning to sink behind the +mountains. + +"An' now, Johnny, if you're ready, an' if Joanne is ready, we'll go," he +said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +As they went up out of the basin into the broad meadows of the larger +valley, MacDonald rode between Aldous and Joanne, and the pack-horses, led +by Pinto, trailed behind. + +Again old Donald said, as he searched the valley: + +"We've beat 'em, Johnny. Quade an' Rann are coming up on the other side of +the range, and I figger they're just about a day behind--mebby only hours, +or an hour. You can't tell. There's more gold back there. We got about a +hunderd pounds in them fifteen sacks, an' there was twice that much. It's +hid somewhere. Calkins used to keep his'n under the floor. So did Watts. +We'll find it later. An' the river, an' the dry gulches on both sides of +the valley--they're full of it! It's all gold, Johnny--gold everywhere!" + +He pointed ahead to where the valley rose in a green slope between two +mountains half a mile away. + +"That's the break," he said. "It don't seem very far now, do it, Joanne?" +His silence seemed to have dropped from him like a mantle, and there was +joy in what he was telling. "But it was a distance that night--a tumble +distance," he continued, before she could answer. "That was forty-one years +ago, coming November. An' it was cold, an' the snow was deep. It was bitter +cold--so cold it caught my Jane's lungs, an' that was what made her go a +little later. The slope up there don't look steep now, but it was steep +then--with two feet of snow to drag ourselves through. I don't think the +cavern is more'n five or six miles away, Johnny, mebby less, an' it took us +twenty hours to reach it. It snowed so heavy that night, an' the wind +blowed so, that our trail was filled up or they might ha' followed." + +Many times Aldous had been on the point of asking old Donald a question. +For the first time he asked it now, even as his eyes swept slowly and +searchingly over the valley for signs of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. + +"I've often wondered why you ran away with Jane," he said. "I know what +threatened her--a thing worse than death. But why did you run? Why didn't +you stay and fight?" + +A low growl rumbled in MacDonald's beard. + +"Johnny, Johnny, if I only ha' could!" he groaned. "There was five of them +left when I ran into the cabin an' barricaded myself there with Jane. I +stuck my gun out of the window an' they was afraid to rush the cabin. They +was _afraid_, Johnny, all that afternoon--_an' I didn't have a cartridge +left to fire!_ That's why we went just as soon as we could crawl out in the +dark. I knew they'd come that night. I might ha' killed one or two hand to +hand, for I was big an' strong in them days, Johnny, but I knew I couldn't +beat 'em all. So we went." + +"After all, death isn't so very terrible," said Joanne softly, and she was +riding so close that for a moment she laid one of her warm hands on Donald +MacDonald's. + +"No, it's sometimes--wunnerful--an' beautiful," replied Donald, a little +brokenly, and with that he rode ahead, and Joanne and Aldous waited until +the pack-horses had passed them. + +"He's going to see that all is clear at the summit," explained Aldous. + +They seemed to be riding now right into the face of that mysterious rumble +and roar of the mountains. It was an hour before they all stood together at +the top of the break, and here MacDonald swung sharply to the right, and +came soon to the rock-strewn bed of a dried-up stream that in ages past had +been a wide and rushing torrent. Steadily, as they progressed down this, +the rumble and roar grew nearer. It seemed that it was almost under their +feet, when again MacDonald turned, and a quarter of an hour later they +found themselves at the edge of a small plain; and now all about them were +cold and towering mountains that shut out the sun, and a hundred yards to +their right was a great dark cleft in the floor of the plain, and up out of +this came the rumble and roar that was like the sullen anger of monster +beasts imprisoned deep down in the bowels of the earth. + +MacDonald got off his horse, and Aldous and Joanne rode up to him. In the +old man's face was a look of joy and triumph. + +"It weren't so far as I thought it was, Johnny!" he cried. "Oh, it must ha' +been a turrible night--a turrible night when Jane an' I come this way! It +took us twenty hours, Johnny!" + +"We are near the cavern?" breathed Joanne. + +"It ain't more'n half a mile farther on, I guess. But we'll camp here. +We're pretty well hid. They can't find us. An' from that summit up there +we can keep watch in both valleys." + +Knowing the thoughts that were in MacDonald's mind, and how full his heart +was with a great desire, Aldous went to him when they had dismounted. + +"You go on alone if there is time to-night, Mac," he said, knowing that the +other would understand him. "I will make camp." + +"There ain't no one in the valley," mused the old man, a little doubtfully +at first. "It would be safe--quite safe, Johnny." + +"Yes, it will be safe." + +"And I will stand guard while John is working," said Joanne, who had come +to them. "No one can approach us without being seen." + +For another moment MacDonald hesitated. Then he said: + +"Do you see that break over there across the plain? It's the open to a +gorge. Johnny, it do seem unreasonable--it do seem as though I must ha' +been dreamin'--when I think that it took us twenty hours! But the snow was +to my waist in this plain, an' it was slow work--turrible slow work! I +think the cavern--ain't on'y a little way up that gorge." + +"You can make it before the sun is quite gone." + +"An' I could hear you shout, or your gun. I could ride back in five +minutes--an' I wouldn't be gone an hour." + +"There is no danger," urged Aldous. + +A deep breath came from old Donald's breast. + +"I guess--I'll go, Johnny, if you an' Joanne don't mind." + +He looked about him, and then he pointed toward the face of a great rock. + +"Put the tepee up near that," he said. "Pile the saddles, an' the blankets, +an' the panniers around it, so it'll look like a real camp, Johnny. But it +won't be a real camp. It'll be a dummy. See them thick spruce an' cedar +over there? Build Joanne a shelter of boughs in there, an' take in some +grub, an' blankets, an' the gold. See the point, Johnny? If anything should +happen----" + +"They'd tackle the bogus camp!" cried Aldous with elation. "It's a splendid +idea!" + +He set at once about unpacking the horses, and Joanne followed close at his +side to help him. MacDonald mounted his horse and rode at a trot in the +direction of the break in the mountain. + +The sun had disappeared, but its reflection was still on the peaks; and +after he had stripped and hobbled the horses Aldous took advantage of the +last of day to scrutinize the plain and the mountain slopes through the +telescope. After that he found enough dry poles with which to set up the +tepee, and about this he scattered the saddles and panniers, as MacDonald +had suggested. Then he cleared a space in the thick spruce, and brought to +it what was required for their hidden camp. + +It was almost dark when he completed the spruce and cedar lean-to for +Joanne. He knew that to-night they must build no fire, not even for tea; +and when they had laid out the materials for their cold supper, which +consisted of beans, canned beef and tongue, peach marmalade, bread bannock, +and pickles and cheese, he went with Joanne for water to a small creek they +had crossed a hundred yards away. In both his hands, ready for instant +action, he carried his rifle. Joanne carried the pail. Her eyes were big +and bright and searching in that thick-growing dusk of night. She walked +very close to Aldous, and she said: + +"John, I know how careful you and Donald have been in this journey into the +North. I know what you have feared. Culver Rann and Quade are after the +gold, and they are near. But why does Donald talk as though we are _surely_ +going to be attacked by them, or are _surely_ going to attack them? I don't +understand it, John. If you don't care for the gold so much, as you told me +once, and if we find Jane to-morrow, or to-night, why do we remain to have +trouble with Quade and Culver Rann? Tell me, John." + +He could not see her face fully in the gloom, and he was glad that she +could not see his. + +"If we can get away without fighting, we will, Joanne," he lied. And he +knew that she would have known that he was lying if it had not been for the +darkness. + +"You won't fight--over the gold?" she asked, pressing his arm. "Will you +promise me that, John?" + +"Yes, I promise that. I swear it!" he cried, and so forcefully that she +gave a glad little laugh. + +"Then if they don't find us to-morrow, we'll go back home?" She trembled, +and he knew that her heart was filled with a sudden lightness. "And I don't +believe they will find us. They won't come beyond that terrible place--and +the gold! Why should they, John? Why should they follow us--if we leave +them everything? Oh-h-h-h!" She shuddered, and whispered: "I wish we had +not brought the gold, John. I wish we had left it behind!" + +"What we have is worth thirty or forty thousand dollars," he said +reassuringly, as he filled his pail with water and they began to return. +"We can do a great deal of good with that. Endowments, for instance," he +laughed. + +As he spoke, they both stopped, and listened. Plainly they heard the +approaching thud of hoofs. MacDonald had been gone nearer two hours than +one, and believing that it was him, Aldous gave the owl signal. The signal +floated back to them softly. Five minutes later MacDonald rode up and +dismounted. Until he had taken the saddle off, and had hobbled his horse, +he did not speak. Neither Joanne nor Aldous asked the question that was in +their hearts. But even in the darkness they felt something. It was as if +not only the torrent rushing through the chasm, but MacDonald's heart as +well, was charging the air with a strange and subdued excitement. And when +MacDonald spoke, that which they had felt was in his voice. + +"You ain't seen or heard anything, Johnny?" + +"Nothing. And you--Donald?" + +In the darkness, Joanne went to the old man, and her hand found one of his, +and clasped it tightly; and she found that Donald MacDonald's big hand was +trembling in a strange and curious way, and she could feel him quivering. + +"You found Jane?" she whispered. + +"Yes, I found her, little Joanne." + +She did not let go of his hand until they entered the open space which +Aldous had made in the spruce. Then she remembered what Aldous had said to +her earlier in the day, and cheerfully she lighted the two candles they +had set out, and forced Aldous down first upon the ground, and then +MacDonald, and began to help them to beans and meat and bannock, while all +the time her heart was crying out to know about the cavern--and Jane. The +candleglow told her a great deal, for in it Donald MacDonald's face was +very calm, and filled with a great peace, despite the trembling she had +felt. Her woman's sympathy told her that his heart was too full on this +night for speech, and when he ate but little she did not urge him to eat +more; and when he rose and went silently and alone out into the darkness +she held Aldous back; and when, still a little later, she went into her +nest for the night, she whispered softly to him: + +"I know that he found Jane as he wanted to find her, and he is happy. I +think he has gone out there alone--to cry." And for a time after that, as +he sat in the gloom, John Aldous knew that Joanne was sobbing like a little +child in the spruce and cedar shelter he had built for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +If MacDonald slept at all that night Aldous did not know it. The old +mountaineer watched until a little after twelve in the deep shadow of a +rock between the two camps. + +"I can't sleep," he protested, when Aldous urged him to take his rest. "I +might take a little stroll up the plain, Johnny--but I can't sleep." + +The plain lay in a brilliant starlight at this hour; they could see the +gleam of the snow-peaks--the light was almost like the glow of the moon. + +"There'll be plenty of sleep after to-morrow," added MacDonald, and there +was a finality in his voice and words which set the other's blood stirring. + +"You think they will show up to-morrow?" + +"Yes. This is the same valley the cabins are in, Johnny. That big mountain +runs out an' splits it, an' it curves like a horseshoe. From that mount'in +we can see them, no matter which way they come. They'll go straight to the +cabins. There's a deep little run under the slope. You didn't see it when +we came out, but it'll take us within a hunderd yards of 'em. An' at a +hunderd yards----" + +He shrugged his shoulders suggestively in the starlight, and there was a +smile on his face. + +"It seems almost like murder," shuddered Aldous. + +"But it ain't,'" replied MacDonald quickly. "It's self-defence! If we +don't do it, Johnny--if we don't draw on them first, what happened there +forty years ago is goin' to happen again--with Joanne!" + +"A hundred yards," breathed Aldous, his jaws setting hard. "And there are +five!" + +"They'll go into the cabins," said MacDonald. "At some time there will be +two or three outside, an' we'll take them first. At the sound of the shots +the others will run out, and it will be easy. Yo' can't very well miss a +man at a hunderd yards, Johnny?" + +"No, I won't miss." + +MacDonald rose. + +"I'm goin' to take a little stroll, Johnny." + +For two hours after that Aldous was alone. He knew why old Donald could not +sleep, and where he had gone, and he pictured him sitting before the little +old cabin in the starlit valley communing with the spirit of Jane. And +during those two hours he steeled himself for the last time to the thing +that was going to happen when the day came. + +It was nearly three o'clock when MacDonald returned. It was four o'clock +before he roused Joanne; and it was five o'clock when they had eaten their +breakfast, and MacDonald prepared to leave for the mountain with his +telescope. Aldous had observed Joanne talking to him for several minutes +alone, and he had also observed that her eyes were very bright, and that +there was an unusual eagerness in her manner of listening to what the old +man was saying. The significance of this did not occur to him when she +urged him to accompany MacDonald. + +"Two pairs of eyes are better than one, John," she said, "and I cannot +possibly be in danger here. I can see you all the time, and you can see +me--if I don't run away, or hide." And she laughed a little breathlessly. +"There is no danger, is there, Donald?" + +The old hunter shook his head. + +"There's no danger, but--you might be lonesome," he said. + +Joanne put her pretty mouth close to Aldous' ear. + +"I want to be alone for a little while, dear," she whispered, and there was +that mystery in her voice which kept him from questioning her, and made him +go with MacDonald. + +In three quarters of an hour they had reached the spur of the mountain from +which MacDonald had said they could see up the valley, and also the break +through which they had come the preceding afternoon. The morning mists +still hung low, but as these melted away under the sun mile after mile of a +marvellous panorama spread out swiftly under them, and as the distance of +their vision grew, the deeper became the disappointment in MacDonald's +face. For half an hour after the mists had gone he neither spoke nor +lowered the telescope from his eyes. A mile away Aldous saw three caribou +crossing the valley. A little later, on a green slope, he discerned a +moving hulk that he knew was a bear. He did not speak until old Donald +lowered the glass. + +"I can see for eight miles up the valley, an' there ain't a soul in sight," +said MacDonald in answer to his question. "I figgered they'd be along about +now, Johnny." + +A dozen times Aldous had looked back at the camp. Twice he had seen Joanne. +He looked now through the telescope. She was nowhere in sight. A bit +nervously he returned the telescope to MacDonald. + +"And I can't see Joanne," he said. + +MacDonald looked. For five minutes he levelled the glass steadily at the +camp. Then he shifted it slowly westward, and a low exclamation broke from +his lips as he lowered the glass, and looked at Aldous. + +"Johnny, she's just goin' into the gorge! She was just disappearin' when I +caught her!" + +"Going into--the gorge!" gasped Aldous, jumping to his feet. "Mac----" + +MacDonald rose and stood at his side. There was something reassuring in the +rumbling laugh that came from deep in his chest. + +"She's beat us!" he chuckled. "Bless her, she's beat us! I didn't guess why +she was askin' me all them questions. An' I told her, Johnny--told her just +where the cavern was up there in the gorge, an' how you wouldn't hardly +miss it if you tried. An' she asked me how long it would take to _walk_ +there, an' I told her half an hour. An' she's going to the cavern, Johnny!" + +He was telescoping his long glass as he spoke, and while Aldous was still +staring toward the gorge in wonderment and a little fear, he added: + +"We'd better follow. Quade an' Rann can't get here inside o' two or three +hours, an' we'll be back before then." Again he rumbled with that curious +chuckling laugh. "She beat us, Johnny, she beat us fair! An' she's got +spirrit, a wunnerful spirrit, to go up there alone!" + +Aldous wanted to run, but he held himself down to MacDonald's stride. His +heart trembled apprehensively as they hurriedly descended the mountain and +cut across the plain. He could not quite bring himself to MacDonald's point +of assurance regarding Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. The old mountaineer was +positive that the other party was behind them. Aldous asked himself if it +were not possible that Quade and FitzHugh were _ahead_ of them, and already +waiting and watching for their opportunity. He had suggested that they +might have swung farther to the west, with the plan of descending upon the +valley from the north, and MacDonald had pointed out how unlikely this was. +In spite of this, Aldous was not in a comfortable frame of mind as they +hurried after Joanne. She had half an hour's start of them when they +reached the mouth of the gorge, and not until they had travelled another +half-hour up the rough bed of the break between the two mountains, and +MacDonald pointed ahead, and said: "There's the cavern!" did he breathe +easier. + +They could see the mouth of the cavern when they were yet a couple of +hundred yards from it. It was a wide, low cleft in the north face of the +chasm wall, and in front of it, spreading out like the flow of a stream, +was a great spatter of white sand, like a huge rug that had been spread out +in a space cleared of its chaotic litter of rock and broken slate. At first +glance Aldous guessed that the cavern had once been the exit of a +subterranean stream. The sand deadened the sound of their footsteps as they +approached. At the mouth of the cave they paused. It was perhaps forty or +fifty feet deep, and as high as a nine-foot room. Inside it was quite +light. Halfway to the back of it, upon her knees, and with her face turned +from them, was Joanne. + +They were very close to her before she heard them. With a startled cry she +sprang to her feet, and Aldous and MacDonald saw what she had been doing. +Over a long mound in the white sand still rose the sapling stake which +Donald had planted there forty years before; and about this, and scattered +over the grave, were dozens of wild asters and purple hyacinths which +Joanne had brought from the plain. Aldous did not speak, but he took her +hand, and looked down with her on the grave. And then something caught his +eyes among the flowers, and Joanne drew him a step nearer, her eyes shining +like velvet stars, while his heart beat faster when he saw what the object +was. It was a book, open in the middle, and it lay face downward on the +grave. It was old, and looked as though it might have fallen into dust at +the touch of his finger. Joanne's voice was low and filled with a +whispering awe. + +"It was her Bible, John!" + +He turned a little, and noticed that Donald had gone to the mouth of the +cavern, and was looking toward the mountain. + +"It was her Bible," he heard Joanne repeating; and then MacDonald turned +toward them, and he saw in his face a look that seemed strange and out of +place in this home of his dead. He went to him, and Joanne followed. + +MacDonald had turned again--was listening--and holding his breath. Then he +said, still with his face toward the mountain and the valley: + +"I may be mistaken, Johnny, but I think I heard--a rifle-shot!" + +For a full minute they listened. + +"It seemed off there," said MacDonald, pointing to the south. "I guess +we'd better get back to camp, Johnny." + +He started ahead of them, and Aldous followed as swiftly as he could with +Joanne. She was panting with excitement, but she asked no questions. +MacDonald began to spring more quickly from rock to rock; over the level +spaces he began to run. He reached the edge of the plain four or five +hundred yards in advance of them, and was scanning the valley through his +telescope when they came up. + +"They're not on this side," he said. "They're comin' up the other leg of +the valley, Johnny. We've got to get to the mount'in before we can see +them." + +He closed the glass with a snap and swung it over his shoulder. Then he +pointed toward the camp. + +"Take Joanne down there," he commanded. "Watch the break we came through, +an' wait for me. I'm goin' up on the mount'in an' take a look!" + +The last words came back over his shoulder as he started on a trot down the +slope. Only once before had Aldous seen MacDonald employ greater haste, and +that was on the night of the attack on Joanne. He was convinced there was +no doubt in Donald's mind about the rifle-shot, and that the shot could +mean but one thing--the nearness of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. Why they +should reveal their presence in that way he did not ask himself as he +hurried down into the plain with Joanne. By the time they reached the camp +old Donald had covered two thirds of the distance to the mountain. Aldous +looked at his watch and a curious thrill shot through him. Only a little +more than an hour had passed since they had left the mountain to follow +Joanne, and in that time it would have been impossible for their enemies to +have covered more than a third of the eight-mile stretch of valley which +they had found empty of human life under the searching scrutiny of the +telescope! He was right--and MacDonald was wrong! The sound of the shot, if +there had been a shot, must have come from some other direction! + +He wanted to shout his warning to MacDonald, but already too great a +distance separated them. Besides, if he was right, MacDonald would run into +no danger in that direction. Their menace was to the north--beyond the +chasm out of which came the rumble and roar of the stream. When Donald had +disappeared up the slope he looked more closely at the rugged walls of rock +that shut them in on that side. He could see no break in them. His eyes +followed the dark streak in the floor of the plain, which was the chasm. It +was two hundred yards below where they were standing; and a hundred yards +beyond the tepee he saw where it came out of a great rent in the mountain. +He looked at Joanne. She had been watching him, and was breathing quickly. + +"While Donald is taking his look from the mountain, I'm going to +investigate the chasm," he said. + +She followed him, a few steps behind. The roar grew in their ears as they +advanced. After a little solid rock replaced the earth under their feet, +and twenty paces from the precipice Aldous took Joanne by the hand. They +went to the edge and looked over. Fifty feet below them the stream was +caught in the narrow space between the two chasm walls, and above the rush +and roar of it Aldous heard the startled cry that came from Joanne. She +clutched his hand fiercely. Fascinated she gazed down. The water, speeding +like a millrace, was a lather of foam; and up through this foam there shot +the crests of great rocks, as though huge monsters of some kind were at +play, whipping the torrent into greater fury, and bellowing forth +thunderous voices. Downstream Aldous could see that the tumult grew less; +from the rent in the mountain came the deeper, more distant-rolling thunder +that they had heard on the other side of the range. And then, as he looked, +a sharper cry broke from Joanne, and she dragged him back from the ledge, +and pointed toward the tepee. + +Out from among the rocks had appeared a human figure. It was a woman. Her +hair was streaming wildly about her, and in the sun it was black as a +crow's wing. She rushed to the tepee, opened the flap, and looked in. Then +she turned, and a cry that was almost a scream rang from her lips. In +another moment she had seen Aldous and Joanne, and was running toward them. +They advanced to meet her. Suddenly Aldous stopped, and with a sharp +warning to Joanne he threw his rifle half to his shoulder, and faced the +rocks from which the speeding figure had come. In that same instant they +both recognized her. It was Marie, the woman who had ridden the bear at +Tête Jaune, and with whom Mortimer FitzHugh had bought Joe DeBar! + +She staggered up to them, panting, exhausted, her breath coming in gulping +sobs. For a moment she could not speak. Her dress was torn; her waist was +ripped so that it exposed her throat and shoulder; and the front of the +waist and her face were stained with blood. Her black eyes shone like a +madwoman's. Fiercely she fought to get her breath, and all the time she +clung to Joanne, and looked at Aldous. She pointed toward the rocks--the +chaotic upheaval that lay between the tepee and the chasm--and words broke +gaspingly from her lips. + +"They're coming!--coming!" she cried. "They killed Joe--murdered him--and +they're coming--to kill you!" She clutched a hand to her breast, and then +pointed with it to the mountain where MacDonald had gone. "They saw him +go--and they sent two men to kill him; and the rest are coming through the +rocks!" She turned sobbingly to Joanne. "They killed Joe," she moaned. +"They killed Joe, and they're coming--for _you!_" + +The emphasis on that final word struck like a blow in the ears of John +Aldous. + +"Run for the spruce!" he commanded. "Joanne, run!" + +Marie had crumpled down in a moaning heap at Joanne's feet, and sat swaying +with her face in her hands. + +"They killed him--they murdered my Joe!" she was sobbing. "And it was my +fault--my fault! I trapped him! I sold him! And, oh, my God, I loved him--I +loved him!" + +"Run, Joanne!" commanded Aldous a second time. "Run for the spruce!" + +Instead of obeying him, Joanne knelt down beside Marie. + +He went to speak again, but there came an interruption--a thing that was +like the cold touch of lead in his own heart. From up on the mountain where +the old mountaineer had walked into the face of death there came the +sharp, splitting report of a rifle; and in that same instant it was +followed by another and still a third--quick, stinging, whiplike +reports--and he knew that not one of them had come from the gun of Donald +MacDonald! + +And then he saw that the rocks behind the tepee had become suddenly alive +with men! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Sheer amazement made Aldous hold his fire in that first moment. Marie had +said that two men were after MacDonald. He had heard three shots nearly a +mile away, and she was still sobbing that DeBar was dead. That accounted +for _three_. He had expected to see only Quade, and FitzHugh, and one other +behind the tepee. And there were six! He counted them as they came swiftly +out from the shelter of the rocks to the level of the plain. He was about +to fire when he thought of Joanne and Marie. They were still behind him, +crouching upon the ground. To fire from where he stood would draw a +fusillade of bullets in their direction, and with another warning cry to +Joanne, he sped twenty paces to one side so that they would not be within +range. Not until then did the attacking party see him. + +At a hundred and fifty yards he had no time to pick out Quade or Mortimer +FitzHugh. He fired first at a group of three, and one of the three crumpled +down as though his skull had been crushed from above. A rifle spat back at +him and the bullet sang like a ripping cloth close over his head. He +dropped to his knees before he fired again, and a bullet clove the air +where he had stood. The crack of rifles did not hurry him. He knew that he +had six cartridges, and only six, and he aimed deliberately. At his second +shot the man he had fired at ran forward three or four steps, and then +pitched flat on his face. For a flash Aldous thought that it was Mortimer +FitzHugh. Then, along his gun barrel, he saw FitzHugh--and pulled the +trigger. It was a miss. + +Two men had dropped upon their knees and were aiming more carefully. He +swung his sight to the foremost, and drove a bullet straight through his +chest. The next moment something seemed to have fallen upon him with +crushing weight. A red sea rose before his eyes. In it he was submerged; +the roar of it filled his ears; it blinded him; and in the suffocating +embrace of it he tried to cry out. He fought himself out of it, his eyes +cleared, and he could see again. His rifle was no longer in his hands, and +he was standing. Twenty feet away men were rushing upon him. His brain +recovered itself with the swiftness of lightning. A bullet had stunned him, +but he was not badly hurt. He jerked out his automatic, but before he could +raise it, or even fire from his hip, the first of his assailants was upon +him with a force that drove it from his hand. They went down together, and +as they struggled on the bare rock Aldous caught for a fraction of a second +a scene that burned itself like fire in his brain. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh +with a revolver in his hand. He had stopped; he was staring like one +looking upon the ghost of the dead, and as he stared there rose above the +rumbling roar of the chasm a wild and terrible shriek from Joanne. + +Aldous saw no more then. He was not fighting for his life, but for her, and +he fought with the mad ferocity of a tiger. As he struck, and choked, and +beat the head of his assailant on the rock, he heard shriek after shriek +come from Joanne's lips; and then for a flash he saw them again, and +Joanne was struggling in the arms of Quade! + +He struggled to his knees, and the man he was fighting struggled to his +knees; and then they came to their feet, locked in a death-grip on the edge +of the chasm. From Quade's clutch he saw Joanne staring at Mortimer +FitzHugh; then her eyes shot to him, and with another shriek she fought to +free herself. + +For thirty seconds of that terrible drama Mortimer FitzHugh stood as if +hewn out of rock. Then he sprang toward the fighters. + +In the arms of John Aldous was the strength of ten men. He twisted the head +of his antagonist under his arm; he braced his feet--in another moment he +would have flung him bodily into the roaring maelstrom below. Even as his +muscles gathered themselves for the final effort he knew that all was lost. +Mortimer FitzHugh's face leered over his shoulder, his demoniac intention +was in his eyes before he acted. With a cry of hatred and of triumph he +shoved them both over the edge, and as Aldous plunged to the depths below, +still holding to his enemy, he heard a last piercing scream from Joanne. + +As the rock slid away from under his feet his first thought was that the +end had come, and that no living creature could live in the roaring +maelstrom of rock and, flood into which he was plunging. But quicker than +he dashed through space his mind worked. Instinctively, without time for +reasoning, he gripped at the fact that his one chance lay in the close +embrace of his enemy. He hung to him. It seemed to him that they turned +over and over a hundred times in that distance of fifty feet. Then a mass +of twisting foam broke under him, and up out of it shot the head of one of +the roaring monsters of rock that he and Joanne had looked upon. They +struck it fairly, and Aldous was uppermost. He felt the terrific impact of +the other's body. The foam boiled upward again, and they slipped off into +the flood. + +Still Aldous held to his enemy. He could feel that he was limp now; he no +longer felt the touch of the hands that had choked him, or the embrace of +the arms that had struggled with him. He believed that his antagonist was +dead. The fifty-foot fall, with the rock splitting his back, had killed +him. For a moment Aldous still clung to him as they sank together under the +surface, torn and twisted by the whirling eddies and whirlpools. It seemed +to him that they would never cease going down, that they were sinking a +vast distance. + +Dully he felt the beat of rocks. Then it flashed upon him that the dead man +was sinking like a weighted thing. He freed himself. Fiercely he struggled +to bring himself to the surface. It seemed an eternity before he rose to +the top. He opened his mouth and drew a great gulp of air into his lungs. +The next instant a great rock reared like a living thing in his face; he +plunged against it, was beaten over it, and again he was going +down--down--in that deadly clutch of maelstrom and undertow. Again he +fought, and again he came to the surface. He saw a black, slippery wall +gliding past him with the speed of an express train. And now it seemed as +though a thousand clubs were beating him. Ahead of him were rocks--nothing +but rocks. + +He shot through them like a piece of driftwood. The roaring in his ears +grew less, and he felt the touch of something under his feet. Sunlight +burst upon him. He caught at a rock, and hung to it. His eyes cleared a +little. He was within ten feet of a shore covered with sand and gravel. The +water was smooth and running with a musical ripple. Waist-deep he waded +through it to the shore, and fell down upon his knees, with his face buried +in his arms. He had been ten minutes in the death-grip of the chasm. It was +another ten minutes before he staggered to his feet and looked about him. + +His face was beaten until he was almost blind. His shirt had been torn from +his shoulders and his flesh was bleeding. He advanced a few steps. He +raised one arm and then the other. He limped. One arm hurt him when he +moved it, but the bone was sound. He was terribly mauled, but he knew that +no bones were broken, and a gasp of thankfulness fell from his lips. All +this time his mind had been suffering even more than his body. Not for an +instant, even as he fought for life between the chasm walls, and as he lay +half unconscious on the rock, had he forgotten Joanne. His one thought was +of her now. He had no weapon, but as he stumbled in the direction of the +camp in the little plain he picked up a club that lay in his path. + +That MacDonald was dead, Aldous was certain. There would be four against +him--Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh and the two men who had gone to the +mountain. His brain cleared swiftly as a part of his strength returned, and +it occurred to him that if he lost no time he might come upon Joanne and +her captors before the two men came from killing old Donald. He tried to +run. Not until then did he fully realize the condition he was in. Twice in +the first hundred yards his legs doubled under him and he fell down among +the rocks. He grew steadily stronger, though each time he tried to run or +spring a distance of a few feet his legs doubled under him like that. It +took him twenty minutes to get back to the edge of the plain, and when he +got there it was empty. There was no sign of Quade or FitzHugh, or of +Joanne and Marie; and there was no one coming from the direction of the +mountain. + +He tried to run again, and he found that over the level floor of the valley +he could make faster time than among the rocks. He went to where he had +dropped his rifle. It was gone. He searched for his automatic. That, too, +was gone. There was one weapon left--a long skinning-knife in one of the +panniers near the tepee. As he went for this, he passed two of the men whom +he had shot. Quade and FitzHugh had taken their weapons, and had turned +them over to see if they were alive or dead. They were dead. He secured the +knife, and behind the tepee he passed the third body, its face as still and +white as the others. He shuddered as he recognized it. It was Slim Barker. +His rifle was gone. + +More swiftly now he made his way into the break out of which his assailants +had come a short time before. The thought came to him again that he had +been right, and that Donald MacDonald, in spite of all his years in the +mountains, had been fatally wrong. Their enemies had come down from the +north, and this break led to their hiding-place. Through it Joanne must +have been taken by her captors. As he made his way over the rocks, gaining +a little more of his strength with each step, his mind tried to picture the +situation that had now arisen between Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. How +would Quade, who was mad for possession of Joanne, accept FitzHugh's claim +of ownership? Would he believe his partner? Would he even believe Joanne +if, to save herself from him, she told him FitzHugh was her husband? Even +if he believed them, _would he give her up?_ Would Quade allow Mortimer +FitzHugh to stand between him and the object for which he was willing to +sacrifice everything? + +As Aldous asked himself these questions his blood ran hot and cold by +turns. And the answer to them drew a deep breath of fear and of anguish +from him as he tried again to run among the rocks. There could be but one +answer: Quade would fight. He would fight like a madman, and if this fight +had happened and FitzHugh had been killed Joanne had already gone utterly +and helplessly into his power. He believed that FitzHugh had not revealed +to Quade his relationship to Joanne while they were on the plain, and the +thought still more terrible came to him that he might not reveal it at all, +that he might repudiate Joanne even as she begged upon her knees for him to +save her. What a revenge it would be to see her helpless and broken in the +arms of Quade! And then, both being beasts---- + +He could think no farther. The sweat broke out on his face as he hobbled +faster over a level space. The sound of the water between the chasm walls +was now a thunder in his ears. He could not have heard a rifle-shot or a +scream a hundred yards away. The trail he was following had continually +grown narrower. It seemed to end a little ahead of him, and the fear that +he had come the wrong way after all filled him with dread. He came to the +face of the mountain wall, and then, to his left, he saw a crack that was +no wider than a man's body. In it there was sand, and the, sand was beaten +by footprints! He wormed his way through, and a moment later stood at the +edge of the chasm. Fifty feet above him a natural bridge of rock spanned +the huge cleft through which the stream was rushing. He crossed this, +exposing himself openly to a shot if it was guarded. But it was not +guarded. This fact convinced him that MacDonald had been killed, and that +his enemies believed he was dead. If MacDonald had escaped, and they had +feared a possible pursuit, some one would have watched the bridge. + +The trail was easy to follow now. Sand and grassy earth had replaced rock +and shale; he could make out the imprints of feet--many of them--and they +led in the direction of a piece of timber that apparently edged a valley +running to the east and west. The rumble of the torrent in the chasm grew +fainter as he advanced. A couple of hundred yards farther on the trail +swung to the left again; it took him around the end of a huge rock, and as +he appeared from behind this, his knife clutched in his hand, he dropped +suddenly flat on his face, and his heart rose like a lump in his throat. +Scarcely fifty yards above him was the camp of his enemies! There were two +tepees and piles of saddles and panniers and blankets about them, but not a +soul that he could see. And then, suddenly, there rose a voice bellowing +with rage, and he recognized it as Quade's. It came from beyond the tepee, +and he rose quickly from where he had thrown himself and ran forward, with +the tepee between him and those on the other side. Close to the canvas he +dropped on his knees and crawled out behind a pile of saddles and panniers. +From here he could see. + +So near that he could almost have touched them were Joanne and Marie, +seated on the ground, with their backs toward him. Their hands were tied +behind them. Their feet were bound with pannier ropes. A dozen paces beyond +them were Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. + +The two men were facing each other, a yard apart. Mortimer FitzHugh's face +was white, a deadly white, and he was smiling. His right hand rested +carelessly in his hunting-coat pocket. There was a sneering challenge on +his lips; in his eyes was a look that Aldous knew meant death if Quade +moved. And Quade was like a great red beast ready to spring. His eyes +seemed bulging out on his cheeks; his great hands were knotted; his +shoulders were hunched forward, and his mottled face was ablaze with +passion. In that moment's dramatic tableau Aldous glanced about swiftly. +The men from the mountain had not returned. He was alone with Quade and +Mortimer FitzHugh. + +Then FitzHugh spoke, very quietly, a little laughingly; but his voice +trembled, and Aldous knew what the hand was doing in the hunting-coat +pocket. + +"You're excited, Billy," he said. "I'm not a liar, as you've very +impolitely told me. And I'm not playing you dirt, and I haven't fallen in +love with the lady myself, as you seem to think. But she belongs to me, +body and soul. If you don't believe me--why, ask the lady herself, Billy!" + +As he spoke, he turned his sneering eyes for the fraction of a second +toward Joanne. The movement was fatal. Quade was upon him. The hand in the +coat pocket flung itself upward, there followed a muffled report, but the +bullet flew wide. In all his life Aldous had never heard a sound like the +roar that came from Quade's throat then. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh's hand +appear with a pistol in it, and then the pistol was gone. He did not see +where it went to. He gripped his knife and waited, his heart beating with +what seemed like smothered explosions as he watched for the opportunity +which he knew would soon come. He expected to see FitzHugh go down under +Quade's huge bulk. Instead of that, a small, iron fist shot upward and +Quade's head went back as if broken from his neck. + +FitzHugh sprang a step backward, and in the movement his heel caught the +edge of a pack-saddle. He stumbled, almost fell, and before he could +recover himself Quade was at him again. This time there was something in +the red brute's hand. It rose and fell once--and Mortimer FitzHugh reeled +backward with a moaning cry, swayed for a second or two on his feet, and +fell to the ground. Quade turned. In his hand was a bloody knife. Madness +and passion and the triumphant joy of a demon were in his face as he glared +at his helpless prey. As Aldous crouched lower his shoulder touched one of +the saddles. It slipped from the pile, one of the panniers followed it, and +Quade saw him. There was no longer reason for concealment, and as Quade +stood paralyzed for a moment Aldous sprang forth into the space between him +and Joanne. He heard the cry that broke strangely from her lips but he did +not turn his head. He advanced upon Quade, his head lowered, the long +skinning-knife gleaming in his hand. + +John Aldous knew that words would avail nothing in these last few minutes +between him and Quade. The latter had already hunched himself forward, the +red knife in his hand poised at his waistline. He was terrible. His huge +bulk, his red face and bull neck, his eyes popping from behind their fleshy +lids, and the dripping blade in the shapeless hulk of his hand gave him the +appearance as he stood there of some monstrous gargoyle instead of a thing +of flesh and blood. And Aldous was terrible to look at, but in a way that +wrung a moaning cry from Joanne. His face was livid from the beat of the +rocks; it was crusted with blood; his eyes were partly closed, and what +remained of his shirt was drenched with blood that still ran from the deep +cuts in his arms and shoulders. But it was he who advanced, and Quade who +stood and waited. + +Aldous knew little or nothing of knife-fighting; and he realized, also, +that there was a strange weakness in his arms and body caused by his battle +with the maelstroms in the chasm. But he had wrestled a great deal with the +Indians of the north, who fought as their half-wolf sledgedogs fought, and +he employed their methods now. Slowly and deliberately he began to circle +around Quade, so that Quade became the pivot of that circle, and as he +circled he drew nearer and nearer to his enemy, but never in a frontal +advance. He edged inward, with his knife-arm on the outside. His deadly +deliberateness and the steady glare of his eyes discomfited Quade, who +suddenly took a step backward. + +It was always when the Indian made this step that his opponent darted in; +and Aldous, with this in mind, sprang to the attack. Their knives clashed +in midair. As they met, hilt to hilt, Aldous threw his whole weight against +Quade, darted sidewise, and with a terrific lunge brought the blade of his +knife down between Quade's shoulders. A straight blade would have gone from +back to chest through muscle and sinew, but the knife which Aldous held +scarcely pierced the other's clothes. + +Not until then did he fully realize the tremendous odds against him. The +curved blade of his skinning-knife would not penetrate! His one hope was to +cut with it. He flung out his arm before Quade had fully recovered, and +blind luck carried the keen edge of the knife across his enemy's pouchy +cheek. The blood came in a spurt, and with a terrible cry Quade leaped back +toward the pile of saddles and panniers. Before Aldous could follow his +advantage the other had dropped his knife and had snatched up a four-foot +length of a tepee pole. For a moment he hesitated while the blood ran in a +hot flood down his thick neck. Then with a bellow of rage he rushed upon +Aldous. + +It was no time for knife-work now. As the avalanche of brute strength +descended upon him Aldous gathered himself for the shock. He had already +measured his own weakness. Those ten minutes among the rocks of the chasm +had broken and beaten him until his strength was gone. He was panting from +his first onset with Quade, but his brain was working. And he knew that +Quade was no longer a reasoning thing. He had ceased to think. He was blind +with the passion of the brute, and his one thought was to crush his enemy +down under the weight of the club in his huge hands. Aldous waited. He +heard Joanne's terrified scream when Quade was almost upon him--when less +than five feet separated them. The club was descending when he flung +himself forward, straight for the other's feet. The club crashed over him, +and with what strength he had he gripped Quade at the knees. With a +tremendous thud Quade came to earth. The club broke from the grip of his +hands. For a moment he was stunned, and in that moment Aldous was at his +throat. + +He would have sold the best of his life for the skinning-knife. But he had +lost it in gripping Quade. And now he choked--with every ounce of strength +in him he choked at the thick red neck of his enemy. Quade's hands reached +for his own throat. They found it. And both choked, lying there gasping and +covered with blood! while Joanne struggled vainly to free herself, and +scream after scream rang from her lips. And John Aldous knew that at last +the end had come. For there was no longer strength in his arms, and there +was something that was like a strange cramp in his fingers, while the +clutch at his own throat was turning the world black. His grip relaxed. His +hands fell limp. The last that he realized was that Quade was over him, and +that he must be dying. + +Then it was, as he lay within a final second or two of death, no longer +conscious of physical attack or of Joanne's terrible cries, that a strange +and unforeseen thing occurred. Beyond the tepee a man had risen from the +earth. He staggered toward them, and it was from Marie that the wildest and +strangest cry of all came now. For the man was Joe DeBar! In his hand he +held a knife. Swaying and stumbling he came to the fighters--from behind. +Quade did not see him, and over Quade's huge back he poised himself. The +knife rose; for the fraction of a second it trembled in midair. Then it +descended, and eight inches of steel went to the heart of Quade. + +And as DeBar turned and staggered toward Joanne and Marie, John Aldous was +sinking deeper and deeper into a black and abysmal night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +In that chaotic night in which he was drifting, light as a feather floating +on the wind, John Aldous experienced neither pain nor very much of the +sense of life. And yet, without seeing or feeling, he seemed to be living, +All was dead in him but that last consciousness, which is almost the +spirit; he might have been dreaming, and minutes, hours, or even years +might have passed in that dream. For a long time he seemed to be sinking +through the blackness; and then something stopped him, without jar or +shock, and he was rising. He could hear nothing. There was a vast silence +about him, a silence as deep and as unbroken as the abysmal pit in which he +seemed to be softly floating. + +After a time Aldous felt himself swaying and rocking, as though tossed +gently on the billows of a sea. This was the first thought that took shape +in his struggling brain--he was at sea; he was on a ship in the heart of a +black night, and he was alone. He tried to call out, but his tongue seemed +gone. It seemed a very long time before day broke, and then it was a +strange day. Little needles of light pricked his eyes; silver strings shot +like flashes of weblike lightning through the darkness, and after that he +saw for an instant a strange glare. It was gone in one big, powderlike +flash, and he was in night again. These days and nights seemed to follow +one another swiftly now, and the nights grew less dark, and the days +brighter. He was conscious of sounds and buffetings, and it was very hot. + +Out of this heat there came a cool, soft breeze that was continually +caressing his face, and eyes, and head. It was like the touch of a spirit +hand. It became more and more real to him. It caressed him into a dark and +comfortable oblivion. Out of this oblivion a still brighter day roused him. +His brain seemed clear. He opened his eyes. A white cloud was hovering over +them; it fell softly; it was cool and gentle. Then it rose again, and it +was not a cloud, but a hand! The hand moved away, and he was looking into a +pair of wide-open, staring, prayerful eyes, and a little cry came to him, +and a voice. + +"John--John----" + +He was drifting again, but now he knew that he was alive. He heard +movement. He heard voices. They were growing nearer and more distinct. He +tried to cry out Joanne's name, and it came in a whispering breath between +his lips. But Joanne heard; and he heard her calling to him; he felt her +hands; she was imploring him to open his eyes, to speak to her. It seemed +many minutes before he could do this, but at last he succeeded. And this +time his vision was not so blurred. He could see plainly. Joanne was there, +hovering over him, and just beyond her was the great bearded face of Donald +MacDonald. And then, before words had formed on his lips, he did a +wonderful thing. He smiled. + +"O my God, I thank Thee!" he heard Joanne cry out, and then she was on her +knees, and her face was against his, and she was sobbing. + +He knew that it was MacDonald who drew her away. + +The great head bent over him. + +"Take this, will 'ee, Johnny boy?" + +Aldous stared. + +"Mac, you're--alive," he breathed. + +"Alive as ever was, Johnny. Take this." + +He swallowed. And then Joanne hovered over him again, and he put up his +hands to her face, and her glorious eyes were swimming seas as she kissed +him and choked back the sobs in her throat. He buried his fingers in her +hair. He held her head close to him, and for many minutes no one spoke, +while MacDonald stood and looked down on them. In those minutes everything +returned to him. The fight was over. MacDonald had come in time to save him +from Quade. But--and now his eyes stared upward through the sheen of +Joanne's hair--he was in a cabin! He recognized it. It was Donald +MacDonald's old home. When Joanne raised her head he looked about him +without speaking. He was in the wide bunk built against the wall. Sunlight +was filtering through a white curtain at the window, and in the open door +he saw the anxious face of Marie. + +He tried to lift himself, and was amazed to find that he could not. Very +gently Joanne urged him back on his pillow. Her face was a glory of life +and of joy. He obeyed her as he would have obeyed the hand of the Madonna. +She saw all his questioning. + +"You must be quiet, John," she said, and never had he heard in her voice +the sweetness of love that was in it now. "We will tell you +everything--Donald and I. But you must be quiet. You were terribly beaten +among the rocks. We brought you here at noon, and the sun is setting--and +until now you have not opened your eyes. Everything is well. But you must +be quiet. You were terribly bruised by the rocks, dear." + +It was sweet to lie under the caresses of her hand. He drew her face down +to him. + +"Joanne, my darling, you understand now--why I wanted to come alone into +the North?" + +Her lips pressed warm and soft against his. + +"I know," she whispered, and he could feel her arras trembling, and her +breath coming quickly. Gently she drew away from him. "I am going to make +you some broth," she said then. + +He watched her as she went out of the cabin, one white hand lifted to her +throat. + +Old Donald MacDonald seated himself on the edge of the bunk. He looked down +at Aldous, chuckling in his beard; and Aldous, with his bruised and swollen +face and half-open eyes, grinned like a happy fiend. + +"It was a wunerful, wunerful fight, Johnny!" said old Donald. + +"It was, Mac. And you came in fine on the home stretch!" + +"What d'ye mean--home stretch?" queried Donald leaning over. + +"You saved me from Quade." + +Donald fairly groaned. + +"I didn't, Johnny--I didn't! DeBar killed 'im. It was all over when I come. +On'y--Johnny--I had a most cur'ous word with Culver Rann afore he died!" + +In his eagerness Aldous was again trying to sit up when Joanne appeared in +the doorway. With a little cry she darted to him, forced him gently back, +and brushed old Donald off the edge of the bunk. + +"Go out and watch the broth, Donald," she commanded firmly. Then she said +to Aldous, stroking back his hair, "I forbade you to talk. John, dear, +aren't you going to mind me?" + +"Did Quade get me with the knife?" he asked. + +"No, no." + +"Am I shot?" + +"No, dear." + +"Any bones broken?" + +"Donald says not." + +"Then please give me my pipe, Joanne--and let me get up. Why do you want me +to lie here when I'm strong like an ox, as Donald says?" + +Joanne laughed happily. + +"You _are_ getting better every minute," she cried joyously. "But you were +terribly beaten by the rocks, John. If you will wait until you have the +broth I will let you sit up." + +A few minutes later, when he had swallowed his broth, Joanne kept her +promise. Only then did he realize that there was not a bone or a muscle in +his body that did not have its own particular ache. He grimaced when Joanne +and Donald bolstered him up with blankets at his back. But he was happy. +Twilight was coming swiftly, and as Joanne gave the final pats and turns to +the blankets and pillows, MacDonald was lighting half a dozen candles +placed around the room. + +"Any watch to-night, Donald?" asked Aldous. + +"No, Johnny, there ain't no watch to-night," replied the old mountaineer. + +He came and seated himself on a bench with Joanne. For half an hour after +that Aldous listened to a recital of the strange things that had +happened--how poor marksmanship had saved MacDonald on the mountain-side, +and how at last the duel had ended with the old hunter killing those who +had come to slay him. When they came to speak of DeBar, Joanne leaned +nearer to Aldous. + +"It is wonderful what love will sometimes do," she spoke softly. "In the +last few hours Marie has bared her soul to me, John. What she has been she +has not tried to hide from me, nor even from the man she loves. She was one +of Mortimer FitzHugh's tools. DeBar saw her and loved her, and she sold +herself to him in exchange for the secret of the gold. When they came into +the North the wonderful thing happened. She loved DeBar--not in the way of +her kind, but as a woman in whom had been born a new heart and a new soul +and a new joy. She defied FitzHugh; she told DeBar how she had tricked him. + +"This morning FitzHugh attempted his old familiarity with her, and DeBar +struck him down. The act gave them excuse for what they had planned to do. +Before her eyes Marie thought they had killed the man she loved. She flung +herself on his breast, and she said she could not feel his heart beat, and +his blood flowed warm against her hands and face. Both she and DeBar had +determined to warn us if they could. Only a few minutes before DeBar was +stabbed he had let off his rifle--an accident, he said. But it was not an +accident. It was the shot Donald heard in the cavern. It saved us, John! +And Marie, waiting her opportunity, fled to us in the plain. DeBar was not +killed. He says my screams brought him back to life. He came out--and +killed Quade with a knife. Then he fell at our feet. A few minutes later +Donald came. DeBar is in another cabin. He is not fatally hurt, and Marie +is happy." + +She was stroking his hand when she finished. The curious rumbling came +softly in MacDonald's beard and his eyes were bright with a whimsical +humour. + +"I pretty near bored a hole through poor Joe when I come up," he chuckled. +"But you bet I hugged him when I found what he'd done, Johnny! Joe says +their camp was just over the range from us that night FitzHugh looked us +up, an' Joanne thought she'd been dreamin'. He didn't have any help, but +his intention was to finish us alone--murder us asleep--when Joanne cried +out. Joe says it was just a devil's freak that took 'im to the top of the +mountain alone that night. He saw our fire an' came down to investigate." + +A low voice was calling outside the door. It was Marie. As Joanne went to +her a quick gleam came into old Donald's eyes. He looked behind him +cautiously to see that she had disappeared, then he bent over Aldous, and +whispered hoarsely: + +"Johnny, I had a most cur'ous word with Rann--or FitzHugh--afore he died! +He wasn't dead when I went to him. But he knew he was dyin'; an' Johnny, he +was smilin' an' cool to the end. I wanted to ask 'im a question, Johnny. I +was dead cur'ous to know _why the grave were empty!_ But he asked for +Joanne, an' I couldn't break in on his last breath. I brought her. The +first thing he asked her was how people had took it when they found out +he'd poisoned his father! When Joanne told him no one had ever thought he'd +killed his father, FitzHugh sat leanin' against the saddles for a minit so +white an' still I thought he 'ad died with his eyes open. Then it came out, +Johnny. He was smilin' as he told it. He killed his father with poison to +get his money. Later he came to America. He didn't have time to tell us how +he come to think they'd discovered his crime. He was dyin' as he talked. It +came out sort o' slobberingly, Johnny. He thought they'd found 'im out. He +changed his name, an' sent out the report that Mortimer FitzHugh had died +in the mount'ins. But Johnny, he died afore I could ask him about the +grave!" + +There was a final note of disappointment in old Donald's voice that was +almost pathetic. + +"It was such a cur'ous grave," he said. "An' the clothes were laid out so +prim an' nice." + +Aldous laid his hand on MacDonald's. + +"It's easy, Mac," he said, and he wanted to laugh at the disappointment +that was still in the other's face. "Don't you see? He never expected any +one to dig _into_ the grave. And he put the clothes and the watch and the +ring in there to get rid of them. They might have revealed his identity. +Why, Donald----" + +Joanne was coming to them again. She laid a cool hand on his forehead and +held up a warning finger to MacDonald. + +"Hush!" she said gently, "Your head is very hot, dear, and there must be +no more talking. You must lie down and sleep. Tell John good-night, +Donald!" + +Like a boy MacDonald did as she told him, and disappeared through the cabin +door. Joanne levelled the pillows and lowered John's head. + +"I can't sleep, Joanne," he protested. + +"I will sit here close at your side and stroke your face and hair," she +said gently. + +"And you will talk to me?" + +"No, I must not talk. But, John----" + +"Yes, dear." + +"If you will promise to be very, very quiet, and let me be very quiet----" + +"Yes." + +"I will make you a pillow of my hair." + +"I--will be quiet," he whispered. + +She unbound her hair, and leaned over so that it fell in a flood on his +pillow. With a sigh of contentment he buried his face in the rich, sweet +masses of it. Gently, like the cooling breeze that had come to him in his +hours of darkness, her hand caressed him. He closed his eyes; he drank in +the intoxicating perfume of her tresses; and after a little he slept. + +For many hours Joanne sat at his bedside, sleepless, and rejoicing. + +When Aldous awoke it was dawn in the cabin. Joanne was gone. For a few +minutes he continued to lie with his face toward the window. He knew that +he had slept a long time, and that the day was breaking. Slowly he raised +himself. The terrible ache in his body was gone; he was still lame, but no +longer helpless. He drew himself cautiously to the edge of the bunk and +sat there for a time, testing himself before he got up. He was delighted at +the result of the experiments. He rose to his feet. His clothes were +hanging against the wall, and he dressed himself. Then he opened the door +and walked out into the morning, limping a little as he went. MacDonald was +up. Joanne's tepee was close to the cabin. The two men greeted each other +quietly, and they talked in low voices, but Joanne heard them, and a few +moments later she ran out with her hair streaming about her and went +straight into the arms of John Aldous. + +This was the beginning of the three wonderful days that yet remained for +Joanne and John Aldous in Donald MacDonald's little valley of gold and +sunshine and blue skies. They were strange and beautiful days, filled with +a great peace and a great happiness, and in them wonderful changes were at +work. On the second day Joanne and Marie rode alone to the cavern where +Jane lay, and when they returned in the golden sun of the afternoon they +were leading their horses, and walking hand in hand. And when they came +down to where DeBar and Aldous and Donald MacDonald were testing the +richness of the black sand along the stream there was a light in Marie's +eyes and a radiance in Joanne's face which told again that world-old story +of a Mary Magdalene and the dawn of another Day. And now, Aldous thought, +Marie had become beautiful; and Joanne laughed softly and happily that +night, and confided many things into the ears of Aldous, while Marie and +DeBar talked for a long time alone out under the stars, and came back at +last hand in hand, like two children. Before they went to bed Marie +whispered something to Joanne, and a little later Joanne whispered it to +Aldous. + +"They want to know if they can be married with us, John," she said. "That +is, if you haven't grown tired of trying to marry me, dear," she added with +a happy laugh. "Have you?" + +His answer satisfied her. And when she told a small part of it to Marie, +the other woman's dark eyes grew as soft as the night, and she whispered +the words to Joe. + +The third and last day was the most beautiful of all. Joe's knife wound was +not bad. He had suffered most from a blow on the head. Both he and Aldous +were in condition to travel, and plans were made to begin the homeward +journey on the fourth morning. MacDonald had unearthed another dozen sacks +of the hidden gold, and he explained to Aldous what must be done to secure +legal possession of the little valley. His manner of doing this was +unnatural and strained. His words came haltingly. There was unhappiness in +his eyes. It was in his voice. It was in the odd droop of his shoulders. +And finally, when they were alone, he said to Aldous, with almost a sob in +his voice: + +"Johnny--Johnny, if on'y the gold were not here!" + +He turned his eyes to the mountain, and Aldous took one of his big gnarled +hands in both his own. + +"Say it, Mac," he said gently. "I guess I know what it is." + +"It ain't fair to you, Johnny," said old Donald, still with his eyes on the +mountains. "It ain't fair to you. But when you take out the claims down +there it'll start a rush. You know what it means, Johnny. There'll be a +thousand men up here; an' mebby you can't understand--but there's the +cavern an' Jane an' the little cabin here; an' it seems like desecratin' +_her_." + +His voice choked, and as Aldous gripped the big hand harder in his own he +laughed. + +"It would, Mac," he said. "I've been watching you while we made the plans. +These cabins and the gold have been here for more than forty years without +discovery, Donald--and they won't be discovered again so long as Joe DeBar +and John Aldous and Donald MacDonald have a word to say about it. We'll +take out no claims, Mac. The valley isn't ours. It's Jane's valley and +yours!" + +Joanne, coming up just then, wondered what the two men had been saying that +they stood as they did, with hands clasped. Aldous told her. And then old +Donald confessed to them what was in his mind, and what he had kept from +them. At last he had found his home, and he was not going to leave it +again. He was going to stay with Jane. He was going to bring her from the +cavern and bury her near the cabin, and he pointed out the spot, covered +with wild hyacinths and asters, where she used to sit on the edge of the +stream and watch him while he worked for gold. And they could return each +year and dig for gold, and he would dig for gold while they were away, and +they could have it all. All that he wanted was enough to eat, and Jane, and +the little valley. And Joanne turned from him as he talked, her face +streaming with tears, and in John's throat was a great lump, and he looked +away from MacDonald to the mountains. + +So it came to pass that on the fourth morning, when they went into the +south, they stopped on the last knoll that shut out the little valley from +the larger valley, and looked back. And Donald MacDonald stood alone in +front of the cabin waving them good-bye. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hunted Woman, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 11328-8.txt or 11328-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/3/2/11328/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hunted Woman + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: February 27, 2004 [EBook #11328] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>THE HUNTED WOMAN</h1> +<br> +<h3>BY</h3> +<br> +<h2>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD</h2> +<br> +<h3>Author of KAZAN, Etc.</h3> +<br> +<h4>Illustrated by</h4> +<br> +<h4>FRANK B. HOFFMAN</h4> +<br> +<h5>NEW YORK<br> +GROSSET & DUNLAP</h5> +<br> +<h5>1915</h5> +<br> +<h3>TO MY WIFE +<br> +AND<br> +<br> +OUR COMRADES OF THE TRAIL</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<br> + +<a name="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/001.jpg" height="300" width="414" +alt=""Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald.""> +</center> + +<h5>"Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald."</h5> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<b>CONTENTS</b><br><br> +<a href="#LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"><b>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX</b></a><br> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a><h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<a href="#image-1"><b>"Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald."</b></a><br> + +<a href="#image-2"><b>A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them Dotty Dimples +come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a little, an' +so I sent her to Bill's place"</b></a><br> + +<a href="#image-3"><b>"A crowd was gathering.... A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering +silk was standing beside a huge brown bear"</b></a><br> + +<a href="#image-4"><b>"The tunnel is closed,' she whispered.... 'That means we have just +forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."</b></a><br> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_I"></a><h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> + +<p>It was all new—most of it singularly dramatic and even appalling to the +woman who sat with the pearl-gray veil drawn closely about her face. For +eighteen hours she had been a keenly attentive, wide-eyed, and partly +frightened bit of humanity in this onrush of "the horde." She had heard a +voice behind her speak of it as "the horde"—a deep, thick, gruff voice +which she knew without looking had filtered its way through a beard. She +agreed with the voice. It was the Horde—that horde which has always beaten +the trails ahead for civilization and made of its own flesh and blood the +foundation of nations. For months it had been pouring steadily into the +mountains—always in and never out, a laughing, shouting, singing, +blaspheming Horde, every ounce of it toughened sinew and red brawn, except +the Straying Angels. One of these sat opposite her, a dark-eyed girl with +over-red lips and hollowed cheeks, and she heard the bearded man say +something to his companions about "dizzy dolls" and "the little angel in +the other seat." This same voice, gruffened in its beard, had told her that +ten thousand of the Horde had gone up ahead of them. Then it whispered +something that made her hands suddenly tighten and a hot flush sweep +through her. She lifted her veil and rose slowly from her seat, as if to +rearrange her dress. Casually she looked straight into the faces of the +bearded man and his companion in the seat behind. They stared. After that +she heard nothing more of the Straying Angels, but only a wildly mysterious +confabulation about "rock hogs," and "coyotes" that blew up whole +mountains, and a hundred and one things about the "rail end." She learned +that it was taking five hundred steers a week to feed the Horde that lay +along the Grand Trunk Pacific between Hogan's Camp and the sea, and that +there were two thousand souls at Tête Jaune Cache, which until a few months +before had slumbered in a century-old quiet broken only by the Indian and +his trade. Then the train stopped in its twisting trail, and the bearded +man and his companion left the car. As they passed her they glanced down. +Again the veil was drawn close. A shimmering tress of hair had escaped its +bondage; that was all they saw.</p> + +<p>The veiled woman drew a deeper breath when they were gone. She saw that +most of the others were getting off. In her end of the car the +hollow-cheeked girl and she were alone. Even in their aloneness these two +women had not dared to speak until now. The one raised her veil again, and +their eyes met across the aisle. For a moment the big, dark, sick-looking +eyes of the "angel" stared. Like the bearded man and his companion, she, +too, understood, and an embarrassed flush added to the colour of the rouge +on her cheeks. The eyes that looked across at her were blue—deep, quiet, +beautiful. The lifted veil had disclosed to her a face that she could not +associate with the Horde. The lips smiled at her—the wonderful eyes +softened with a look of understanding, and then the veil was lowered again. +The flush in the girl's cheek died out, and she smiled back.</p> + +<p>"You are going to Tête Jaune?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. May I sit with you for a few minutes? I want to ask questions—so +many!"</p> + +<p>The hollow-cheeked girl made room for her at her side.</p> + +<p>"You are new?"</p> + +<p>"Quite new—to this."</p> + +<p>The words, and the manner in which they were spoken, made the other glance +quickly at her companion.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange place to go—Tête Jaune," she said. "It is a terrible +place for a woman."</p> + +<p>"And yet you are going?"</p> + +<p>"I have friends there. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The girl stared at her in amazement. Her voice and her eyes were bolder +now.</p> + +<p>"And without friends you are going—<i>there?</i>" she cried. "You have no +husband—no brother——"</p> + +<p>"What place is this?" interrupted the other, raising her veil so that she +could look steadily into the other's face. "Would you mind telling me?"</p> + +<p>"It is Miette," replied the girl, the flush reddening her cheeks again. +"There's one of the big camps of the railroad builders down on the Flats. +You can see it through the window. That river is the Athabasca."</p> + +<p>"Will the train stop here very long?"</p> + +<p>The Little Angel shrugged her thin shoulders despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Long enough to get me into The Cache mighty late to-night," she +complained. "We won't move for two hours."</p> + +<p>"I'd be so glad if you could tell me where I can go for a bath and +something to eat. I'm not very hungry—but I'm terribly dusty. I want to +change some clothes, too. Is there a hotel here?"</p> + +<p>Her companion found the question very funny. She had a giggling fit before +she answered.</p> + +<p>"You're sure new," she explained. "We don't have hotels up here. We have +bed-houses, chuck-tents, and bunk-shacks. You ask for Bill's Shack down +there on the Flats. It's pretty good. They'll give you a room, plenty of +water, and a looking-glass—an' charge you a dollar. I'd go with you, but +I'm expecting a friend a little later, and if I move I may lose him. +Anybody will tell you where Bill's place is. It's a red an' white striped +tent—and it's respectable."</p> + +<p>The stranger girl thanked her, and turned for her bag. As she left the car, +the Little Angel's eyes followed her with a malicious gleam that gave them +the strange glow of candles in a sepulchral cavern. The colours which she +unfurled to all seeking eyes were not secret, and yet she was filled with +an inward antagonism that this stranger with the wonderful blue eyes had +dared to see them and recognize them. She stared after the retreating +form—a tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure that filled her with envy and +a dull sort of hatred. She did not hear a step behind her. A hand fell +familiarly on her shoulder, and a coarse voice laughed something in her ear +that made her jump up with an artificial little shriek of pleasure. The man +nodded toward the end of the now empty car.</p> + +<p>"Who's your new friend?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She's no friend of mine," snapped the girl. "She's another one of them +Dolly Dimples come out to save the world. She's that innocent she wonders +why Tête Jaune ain't a nice place for ladies without escort. I thought I'd +help eggicate her a little an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, +I told her it was respectable!"</p> + +<p>She doubled over the seat in a fit of merriment, and her companion seized +the opportunity to look out of the window.</p> + +<p>The tall, blue-eyed stranger had paused for a moment on the last step of +the car to pin up her veil, fully revealing her face. Then she stepped +lightly to the ground, and found herself facing the sunlight and the +mountains. She drew a slow, deep breath between her parted lips, and turned +wonderingly, for a moment forgetful. It was the first time she had left the +train since entering the mountains, and she understood now why some one in +the coach had spoken of the Miette Plain as Sunshine Pool. Where-ever she +looked the mountains fronted her, with their splendid green slopes reaching +up to their bald caps of gray shale and reddish rock or gleaming summits of +snow. Into this "pool"—this pocket in the mountains—the sun descended in +a wonderful flood. It stirred her blood like a tonic. She breathed more +quickly; a soft glow coloured her cheeks; her eyes grew more deeply violet +as they caught the reflection of the blue sky. A gentle wind fretted the +loose tendrils of brown hair about her face. And the bearded man, staring +through the car window, saw her thus, and for an hour after that the +hollow-cheeked girl wondered at the strange change in him.</p> + +<p>The train had stopped at the edge of the big fill overlooking the Flats. It +was a heavy train, and a train that was helping to make history—a +combination of freight, passenger, and "cattle." It had averaged eight +miles an hour on its climb toward Yellowhead Pass and the end of steel. The +"cattle" had already surged from their stifling and foul-smelling cars in a +noisy inundation of curiously mixed humanity. They were of a dozen +different nationalities, and as the girl looked at them it was not with +revulsion or scorn but with a sudden quickening of heartbeat and a little +laugh that had in it something both of wonder and of pride. This was the +Horde, that crude, monstrous thing of primitive strength and passions that +was overturning mountains in its fight to link the new Grand Trunk Pacific +with the seaport on the Pacific. In that Horde, gathered in little groups, +shifting, sweeping slowly toward her and past her, she saw something as +omnipotent as the mountains themselves. They could not know defeat. She +sensed it without ever having seen them before. For her the Horde now had a +heart and a soul. These were the builders of empire—the man-beasts who +made it possible for Civilization to creep warily and without peril into +new places and new worlds. With a curious shock she thought of the +half-dozen lonely little wooden crosses she had seen through the car window +at odd places along the line of rail.</p> + +<p>And now she sought her way toward the Flats. To do this she had to climb +over a track that was waiting for ballast. A car shunted past her, and on +its side she saw the big, warning red placards—Dynamite. That one word +seemed to breathe to her the spirit of the wonderful energy that was +expending itself all about her. From farther on in the mountains came the +deep, sullen detonations of the "little black giant" that had been rumbling +past her in the car. It came again and again, like the thunderous voice of +the mountains themselves calling out in protest and defiance. And each time +she felt a curious thrill under her feet and the palpitant touch of +something that was like a gentle breath in her ears. She found another +track on her way, and other cars slipped past her crunchingly. Beyond this +second track she came to a beaten road that led down into the Flats, and +she began to descend.</p> + +<a name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/002.jpg" height="456" width="300" +alt="A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!""> +</center> + +<h5>A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!"</h5> + +<p>Tents shone through the trees on the bottom. The rattle of the cars grew +more distant, and she heard the hum and laughter of voices and the jargon +of a phonograph. At the bottom of the slope she stepped aside to allow a +team and wagon to pass. The wagon was loaded with boxes that rattled and +crashed about as the wheels bumped over stones and roots. The driver of the +team did not look at her. He was holding back with his whole weight; his +eyes bulged a little; he was sweating, in his face was a comedy of +expression that made the girl smile in spite of herself. Then she saw one +of the bobbing boxes and the smile froze into a look of horror. On it was +painted that ominous word—DYNAMITE!</p> + +<p>Two men were coming behind her.</p> + +<p>"Six horses, a wagon an' old Fritz—blown to hell an' not a splinter left +to tell the story," one of them was saying. "I was there three minutes +after the explosion and there wasn't even a ravelling or a horsehair left. +This dynamite's a dam' funny thing. I wouldn't be a rock-hog for a +million!"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather be a rock-hog than Joe—drivin' down this hill a dozen times a +day," replied the other.</p> + +<p>The girl had paused again, and the two men stared at her as they were about +to pass. The explosion of Joe's dynamite could not have startled them more +than the beauty of the face that was turned to them in a quietly appealing +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I am looking for a place called—Bill's Shack," she said, speaking the +Little Sister's words hesitatingly. "Can you direct me to it, please?"</p> + +<p>The younger of the two men looked at his companion without speaking. The +other, old enough to regard feminine beauty as a trap and an illusion, +turned aside to empty his mouth of a quid of tobacco, bent over, and +pointed under the trees.</p> + +<p>"Can't miss it—third tent-house on your right, with canvas striped like a +barber-pole. That phonnygraff you hear is at Bill's."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>She went on.</p> + +<p>Behind her, the two men stood where she had left them. They did not move. +The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe.</p> + +<p>"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't +believe——"</p> + +<p>"Shucks!" interjected the other.</p> + +<p>"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna—with the +heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful. +You call me a fool if you want to—I'm goin' on to Bill's!"</p> + +<p>He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly the +older man was at his side, clutching his arm.</p> + +<p>"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big +enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the +wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right +place."</p> + +<p>At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were not +unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked calmly and +undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There were half a dozen +lounging there, smoking and listening to the phonograph, which some one now +stopped that they might hear every word that was spoken. The girl's head +was high. She was beginning to understand that it would have been less +embarrassing to have gone hungry and dusty. But she had come this far, and +she was determined to get what she wanted—if it was to be had. The colour +shone a little more vividly through the pure whiteness of her skin as she +faced Bill, leaning over his little counter. In him she recognized the +Brute. It was blazoned in his face, in the hungry, seeking look of his +eyes—in the heavy pouches and thick crinkles of his neck and cheeks. For +once Bill Quade himself was at a loss.</p> + +<p>"I understand that you have rooms for rent," she said unemotionally. "May I +hire one until the train leaves for Tête Jaune Cache?"</p> + +<p>The listeners behind her stiffened and leaned forward. One of them grinned +at Quade. This gave him the confidence he needed to offset the fearless +questioning in the blue eyes. None of them noticed a newcomer in the door. +Quade stepped from behind his shelter and faced her.</p> + +<p>"This way," he said, and turned to the drawn curtains beyond them.</p> + +<p>She followed. As the curtains closed after them a chuckling laugh broke the +silence of the on-looking group. The newcomer in the doorway emptied the +bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the breast-pocket of his flannel +shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was blond, shot a little with gray. He +was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than the girl herself, slim-waisted, +with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as they rested on the +still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray. His face was thin +and bronzed, his nose a trifle prominent. He was a man far from handsome, +and yet there was something of fascination and strength about him. He did +not belong to the Horde. Yet he might have been the force behind it, +contemptuous of the chuckling group of rough-visaged men, almost arrogant +in his posture as he eyed the curtains and waited.</p> + +<p>What he expected soon came. It was not the usual giggling, the usual +exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains. Quade did +not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with a sort of +exultant satisfaction. The girl preceded him. She flung the curtains aside +and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire, her blue eyes +filled with the flash of lightning. She came down the single step. Quade +followed her. He put out a hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't take offence, girly," he expostulated. "Look here—ain't it +reasonable to s'pose——"</p> + +<p>He got no farther. The man in the door had advanced, placing himself at the +girl's side. His voice was low and unexcited.</p> + +<p>"You have made a mistake?" he said.</p> + +<p>She took him in at a glance—his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his +slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have made a mistake—a terrible mistake!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it ain't fair to take offence," Quade went on. "Now, look +here——"</p> + +<p>In his hand was a roll of bills. The girl did not know that a man could +strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger +struck then. There was one blow, and Quade went down limply. It was so +sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had happened.</p> + +<p>"I chanced to see you go in," he explained, without a tremor in his voice. +"I thought you were making a mistake. I heard you ask for shelter. If you +will come with me I will take you to a friend's."</p> + +<p>"If it isn't too much trouble for you, I will go," she said. "And for +that—in there—thank you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_II"></a><h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> + +<p>They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which +faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town. It +was chiefly of canvas. Now and then a structure of logs added an appearance +of solidity to the whole. The girl did not look too closely. She knew that +they passed places in which there were long rows of cots, and that others +were devoted to trade. She noticed signs which advertised soft drinks and +cigars—always "soft drinks," which sometimes came into camp marked as +"dynamite," "salt pork," and "flour." She was conscious that every one +stared at them as they passed. She heard clearly the expressions of wonder +and curiosity of two women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in +front of a rooming-tent. She looked at the man at her side. She appreciated +his courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship. In her eyes +was a ripple of amusement.</p> + +<p>"This is all strange and new to me—and not at all uninteresting," she +said. "I came expecting—everything. And I am finding it. Why do they stare +at me so? Am I a curiosity?"</p> + +<p>"You are," he answered bluntly. "You are the most beautiful woman they have +ever seen."</p> + +<p>His eyes encountered hers as he spoke. He had answered her question fairly. +There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look. She had +asked for information, and he had given it. In spite of herself the girl's +lips trembled. Her colour deepened. She smiled.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," she entreated. "I seldom feel like laughing, but I almost do +now. I have encountered so many curious people and have heard so many +curious things during the past twenty-four hours. You don't believe in +concealing your thoughts out here in the wilderness, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't expressed <i>my</i> thoughts," he corrected. "I was telling you what +<i>they</i> think."</p> + +<p>"Oh-h-h—I beg your pardon again!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," he answered lightly, and now his eyes were laughing frankly +into her own. "I don't mind informing you," he went on, "that I am the +biggest curiosity you will meet between this side of the mountains and the +sea. I am not accustomed to championing women. I allow them to pursue their +own course without personal interference on my part. But—I suppose it will +give you some satisfaction if I confess it—I followed you into Bill's +place because you were more than ordinarily beautiful, and because I wanted +to see fair play. I knew you were making a mistake. I knew what would +happen."</p> + +<p>They had passed the end of the street, and entered a little green plain +that was soft as velvet underfoot. On the farther side of this, sheltered +among the trees, were two or three tents. The man led the way toward these.</p> + +<p>"Now, I suppose I've spoiled it all," he went on, a touch of irony in his +voice. "It was really quite heroic of me to follow you into Bill's place, +don't you think? You probably want to tell me so, but don't quite dare. +And I should play up to my part, shouldn't I? But I cannot—not +satisfactorily. I'm really a bit disgusted with myself for having taken as +much interest in you as I have. I write books for a living. My name is John +Aldous."</p> + +<p>With a little cry of amazement, his companion stopped. Without knowing it, +her hand had gripped his arm.</p> + +<p>"You are John Aldous—who wrote 'Fair Play,' and 'Women!'" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, amusement in his face.</p> + +<p>"I have read those books—and I have read your plays," she breathed, a +mysterious tremble in her voice. "You despise women!"</p> + +<p>"Devoutly."</p> + +<p>She drew a deep breath. Her hand dropped from his arm.</p> + +<p>"This is very, very funny," she mused, gazing off to the sun-capped peaks +of the mountains. "You have flayed women alive. You have made them want to +mob you. And yet——"</p> + +<p>"Millions of them read my books," he chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Yes—all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into his +face. "And I guess—in many ways—you have pointed out things that are +true."</p> + +<p>It was his turn to show surprise.</p> + +<p>"You believe that?"</p> + +<p>"I do. More than that—I have always thought that I knew your secret—the +big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal +because you know the world would laugh at you. And so—<i>you despise me!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Not you."</p> + +<p>"I am a woman."</p> + +<p>He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red.</p> + +<p>"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you +were going to leave on the Tête Jaune train. I am going to take you to a +real dinner. And now—I should let those good people know your name."</p> + +<p>A moment—unflinching and steady—she looked into his face.</p> + +<p>"It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in +fiction. Joanne Gray."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell +new-baked bread."</p> + +<p>As they moved on he suddenly touched her arm. She felt for a moment the +firm clasp of his fingers. There was a new light in his eyes, a glow of +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I have it!" he cried. "You have brought it to me—the idea. I have been +wanting a name for <i>her</i>—the woman in my new book. She is to be a +tremendous surprise. I haven't found a name, until now—one that fits. I +shall call her Ladygray!"</p> + +<p>He felt the girl flinch. He was surprised at the sudden startled look that +shot into her eyes, the swift ebbing of the colour from her cheeks. He drew +away his hand at the strange change in her. He noticed how quickly she was +breathing—that the fingers of her white hands were clasped tensely.</p> + +<p>"You object," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not enough to keep you from using it," she replied in a low voice. "I owe +you a great deal." He noted, too, how quickly she had recovered herself. +Her head was a little higher. She looked toward the tents. "You were not +mistaken," she added. "I smell new-made bread!"</p> + +<p>"And I shall emphasize the first half of it—<i>Lady</i>gray," said John Aldous, +as if speaking to himself. "That diminutizes it, you might say—gives it +the touch of sentiment I want. You can imagine a lover saying 'Dear little +<i>Lady</i>gray, are you warm and comfy?' He wouldn't say Ladygray as if she +wore a coronet, would he?"</p> + +<p>"Smell-o'-bread—fresh bread!" sniffed Joanne Gray, as if she had not heard +him. "It's making me hungry. Will you please hurry me to it, John Aldous?"</p> + +<p>They were approaching the first of the three tent-houses, over which was a +crudely painted sign which read "Otto Brothers, Guides and Outfitters." It +was a large, square tent, with weather-faded red and blue stripes, and from +it came the cheerful sound of a woman's laughter. Half a dozen +trampish-looking Airedale terriers roused themselves languidly as they drew +nearer. One of them stood up and snarled.</p> + +<p>"They won't hurt you," assured Aldous. "They belong to Jack Bruce and +Clossen Otto—the finest bunch of grizzly dogs in the Rockies." Another +moment, and a woman had appeared in the door. "And that is Mrs. Jack Otto," +he added under his breath. "If all women were like her I wouldn't have +written the things you have read!"</p> + +<p>He might have added that she was Scotch. But this was not necessary. The +laughter was still in her good-humoured face. Aldous looked at his +companion, and he found her smiling back. The eyes of the two women had +already met.</p> + +<p>Briefly Aldous explained what had happened at Quade's, and that the young +woman was leaving on the Tête Jaune train. The good-humoured smile left +Mrs. Otto's face when he mentioned Quade.</p> + +<p>"I've told Jack I'd like to poison that man some day," she cried. "You poor +dear, come in, I'll get you a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"Which always means dinner in the Otto camp," added Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so hungry, but I'm tired—so tired," he heard the girl say as she +went in with Mrs. Otto, and there was a new and strangely pathetic note in +her voice. "I want to rest—until the train goes."</p> + +<p>He followed them in, and stood for a moment near the door.</p> + +<p>"There's a room in there, my dear," said the woman, drawing back a curtain. +"Make yourself at home, and lie down on the bed until I have the tea +ready."</p> + +<p>When the curtain had closed behind her, John Aldous spoke in a low voice to +the woman.</p> + +<p>"Will you see her safely to the train, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "It leaves at +a quarter after two. I must be going."</p> + +<p>He felt that he had sufficiently performed his duty. He left the tent, and +paused for a moment outside to touzle affectionately the trampish heads of +the bear dogs. Then he turned away, whistling. He had gone a dozen steps +when a low voice stopped him. He turned. Joanne had come from the door.</p> + +<p>For one moment he stared as if something more wonderful than anything he +had ever seen had risen before him. The girl was bareheaded, and she stood +in a sun mellowed by a film of cloud. Her head was piled with lustrous +coils of gold-brown hair that her hat and veil had hidden. Never had he +looked upon such wonderful hair, crushed and crumpled back from her smooth +forehead; nor such marvellous whiteness of skin and pure blue depths of +eyes! In her he saw now everything that was strong and splendid in woman. +She was not girlishly sweet. She was not a girl. She was a woman—glorious +to look at, a soul glowing out of her eyes, a strength that thrilled him in +the quiet and beautiful mystery of her face.</p> + +<p>"You were going without saying good-bye," she said. "Won't you let me thank +you—a last time?"</p> + +<p>Her voice brought him to himself again. A moment he bent over her hand. A +moment he felt its warm, firm pressure in his own. The smile that flashed +to his lips was hidden from her as he bowed his blond-gray head.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for the omission," he apologized. "Good-bye—and may good luck +go with you!"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met once more. With another bow he had turned, and was +continuing his way. At the door Joanne Gray looked back. He was whistling +again. His careless, easy stride was filled with a freedom that seemed to +come to her in the breath of the mountains. And then she, too, smiled +strangely as she reëntered the tent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_III"></a><h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> + +<p>If John Aldous had betrayed no visible sign of inward vanquishment he at +least was feeling its effect. For years his writings had made him the +target for a world of women, and many men. The men he had regarded with +indifferent toleration. The women were his life—the "frail and ineffective +creatures" who gave spice to his great adventure, and made his days +anything but monotonous. He was not unchivalrous. Deep down in his +heart—and this was his own secret—he did not even despise women. But he +had seen their weaknesses and their frailties as perhaps no other man had +ever seen them, and he had written of them as no other man had ever +written. This had brought him the condemnation of the host, the admiration +of the few. His own personal veneer of antagonism against woman was purely +artificial, and yet only a few had guessed it. He had built it up about him +as a sort of protection. He called himself "an adventurer in the mysteries +of feminism," and to be this successfully he had argued that he must +destroy in himself the usual heart-emotions of the sex-man and the animal.</p> + +<p>How far he had succeeded in this he himself did not know—until these last +moments when he had bid good-bye to Joanne Gray. He confessed that she had +found a cleft in his armour, and there was an uneasy thrill in his blood. +It was not her beauty alone that had affected him. He had trained himself +to look at a beautiful woman as he might have looked at a beautiful flower, +confident that if he went beyond the mere admiration of it he would find +only burned-out ashes. But in her he had seen something that was more than +beauty, something that for a flashing moment had set stirring every +molecule in his being. He had felt the desire to rest his hand upon her +shining hair!</p> + +<p>He turned off into a winding path that led into the thick poplars, +restraining an inclination to look back in the direction of the Otto camp. +He pulled out the pipe he had dropped into his shirt pocket, filled it with +fresh tobacco, and began smoking. As he smoked, his lips wore a quizzical +smile, for he was honest enough to give Joanne Gray credit for her triumph. +She had awakened a new kind of interest in him—only a passing interest, to +be sure—but a new kind for all that. The fact amused him. In a large way +he was a humourist—few guessing it, and he fully appreciated the humour of +the present situation—that he, John Aldous, touted the world over as a +woman-hater, wanted to peer out through the poplar foliage and see that +wonderful gold-brown head shining in the sun once more!</p> + +<p>He wandered more slowly on his way, wondering with fresh interest what his +friends, the women, would say when they read his new book. His title for it +was "Mothers." It was to be a tremendous surprise.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his face became serious. He faced the sound of a distant +phonograph. It was not the phonograph in Quade's place, but that of a rival +dealer in soft drinks at the end of the "street." For a moment Aldous +hesitated. Then he turned in the direction of the camp.</p> + +<p>Quade was bolstered up on a stool, his back against the thin partition, +when John Aldous sauntered in. There was still a groggy look in his mottled +face. His thick bulk hung a bit limply. In his heavy-lidded eyes, +under-hung by watery pouches of sin and dissipation, there was a vengeful +and beastlike glare. He was surrounded by his friends. One of them was +taking a wet cloth from his head. There were a dozen in the canvas-walled +room, all with their backs to the door, their eyes upon their fallen and +dishonoured chief. For a moment John Aldous paused in the door. The cool +and insolent smile hovered about his lips again, and little crinkles had +gathered at the corners of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Did I hit you pretty hard, Bill?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Every head was turned toward him. Bill Quade stared, his mouth open. He +staggered to his feet, and stood dizzily.</p> + +<p>"You—damn you!" he cried huskily.</p> + +<p>Three or four of the men had already begun to move toward the stranger. +Their hands were knotted, their faces murderously dark.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, boys," warned Aldous coolly. "I've got something to say to +you—and Bill. Then eat me alive if you want to. Do you want to be square +enough to give me a word?"</p> + +<p>Quade had settled back sickly on his stool. The others had stopped, +waiting. The quiet and insolently confident smile had not left Aldous' +lips.</p> + +<p>"You'll feel better in a few minutes, Bill," he consoled. "A hard blow on +the jaw always makes you sick at the pit of the stomach. That dizziness +will pass away shortly. Meanwhile, I'm going to give you and your pals a +little verbal and visual demonstration of what you're up against, and warn +you to bait no traps for a certain young woman whom you've lately seen. +She's going on to Tête Jaune. And I know how your partner plays his game up +there. I'm not particularly anxious to butt into your affairs and the +business of this pretty bunch that's gathered about you, but I've come to +give you a friendly warning for all that. If this young woman is +embarrassed up at Tête Jaune you're going to settle with me."</p> + +<p>Aldous had spoken without a tremor of excitement in his voice. Not one of +the men noticed his speaking lips, his slim hands, or his careless posture +as he leaned in the door. They were looking straight into his eyes, +strangely scintillating and deadly earnest. In such a man mere bulk did not +count.</p> + +<p>"That much—for words," he went on. "Now I'm going to give you the visual +demonstration. I know your game, Bill. You're already planning what you're +going to do. You won't fight fair—because you never have. You've already +decided that some morning I'll turn up missing, or be dug out from under a +fall of rock, or go peacefully floating down the Athabasca. See! There's +nothing in that hand, is there?"</p> + +<p>He stretched out an empty hand toward them, palm up.</p> + +<p>"And now!"</p> + +<p>A twist of the wrist so swift their eyes could not follow, a metallic +click, and the startled group were staring into the black muzzle of a +menacing little automatic.</p> + +<p>"That's known as the sleeve trick, boys," explained Aldous with his +imperturbable smile. "It's a relic of the old gun-fighting days when the +best man was quickest. From now on, especially at night, I shall carry this +little friend of mine just inside my wristband. There are eleven shots in +it, and I shoot fairly straight. Good-day!"</p> + +<p>Before they had recovered from their astonishment he was gone.</p> + +<p>He did not follow the road along which Joanne had come a short time before, +but turned again into the winding trail that led riverward through the +poplars. Where before he had been a little amused at himself, he was now +more seriously disgusted. He was not afraid of Quade, who was perhaps the +most dangerous man along the line of rail. Neither was he afraid of the +lawless men who worked his ends. But he knew that he had made powerful +enemies, and all because of an unknown woman whom he had never seen until +half an hour before. It was this that disturbed his equanimity—the <i>woman</i> +of it, and the knowledge that his interference had been unsolicited and +probably unnecessary. And now that he had gone this far he found it not +easy to recover his balance. Who was this Joanne Gray? he asked himself. +She was not ordinary—like the hundred other women who had gone on ahead of +her to Tête Jaune Cache. If she had been that, he would soon have been in +his little shack on the shore of the river, hard at work. He had planned +work for himself that afternoon, and he was nettled to discover that his +enthusiasm for the grand finale of a certain situation in his novel was +gone. Yet for this he did not blame her. He was the fool. Quade and his +friends would make him feel that sooner or later.</p> + +<p>His trail led him to a partly dry muskeg bottom. Beyond this was a thicker +growth of timber, mostly spruce and cedar, from behind which came the +rushing sound of water. A few moments more and he stood with the wide +tumult of the Athabasca at his feet. He had chosen this spot for his little +cabin because the river ran wild here among the rocks, and because +pack-outfits going into the southward mountains could not disturb him by +fording at this point. Across the river rose the steep embankments that +shut in Buffalo Prairie, and still beyond that the mountains, thick with +timber rising billow on billow until trees looked like twigs, with gray +rock and glistening snow shouldering the clouds above the last purple line. +The cabin in which he had lived and worked for many weeks faced the river +and the distant Saw Tooth Range, and was partly hidden in a clump of +jack-pines. He opened the door and entered. Through the window to the south +and west he could see the white face of Mount Geikie, and forty miles away +in that wilderness of peaks, the sombre frown of Hardesty; through it the +sun came now, flooding his work as he had left it. The last page of +manuscript on which he had been working was in his typewriter. He sat down +to begin where he had left off in that pivotal situation in his +masterpiece.</p> + +<p>He read and re-read the last two or three pages of the manuscript, +struggling to pick up the threads where he had dropped them. With each +reading he became more convinced that his work for that afternoon was +spoiled. And by whom? By <i>what?</i> A little fiercely he packed his pipe with +fresh tobacco. Then he leaned back, lighted it, and laughed. More and more +as the minutes passed he permitted himself to think of the strange young +woman whose beauty and personality had literally projected themselves into +his workshop. He marvelled at the crudity of the questions which he asked +himself, and yet he persisted in asking them. Who was she? What could be +her mission at Tête Jaune Cache? She had repeated to him what she had said +to the girl in the coach—that at Tête Jaune she had no friends. Beyond +that, and her name, she had offered no enlightenment.</p> + +<p>In the brief space that he had been with her he had mentally tabulated her +age as twenty-eight—no older. Her beauty alone, the purity of her eyes, +the freshness of her lips, and the slender girlishness of her figure, might +have made him say twenty, but with those things he had found the maturer +poise of the woman. It had been a flashlight picture, but one that he was +sure of.</p> + +<p>Several times during the next hour he turned to his work, and at last gave +up his efforts entirely. From a peg in the wall he took down a little +rifle. He had found it convenient to do much of his own cooking, and he had +broken a few laws. The partridges were out of season, but temptingly fat +and tender. With a brace of young broilers in mind for supper, he left the +cabin and followed the narrow foot-trail up the river. He hunted for half +an hour before he stirred a covey of birds. Two of these he shot. +Concealing his meat and his gun near the trail he continued toward the ford +half a mile farther up, wondering if Stevens, who was due to cross that +day, had got his outfit over. Not until then did he look at his watch. He +was surprised to find that the Tête Jaune train had been gone three +quarters of an hour. For some unaccountable reason he felt easier. He went +on, whistling.</p> + +<p>At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting +one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation.</p> + +<p>"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up. "You never can tell what +it's going to do overnight. Look there! Would you try to cross?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," replied Aldous. "It's a foot higher than yesterday. I +wouldn't take the chance."</p> + +<p>"Not with two guides, a cook, and a horse-wrangler on your pay-roll—and a +hospital bill as big as Geikie staring you in the face?" argued Stevens, +who had been sick for three months. "I guess you'd pretty near take a +chance. I've a notion to."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," repeated Aldous.</p> + +<p>"But I've lost two days already, and I'm taking that bunch of sightseers +out for a lump sum, guaranteeing 'em so many days on the trail. This ain't +what you might call <i>on the trail</i>. They don't expect to pay for this +delay, and that outfit back in the bush is costing me thirty dollars a day. +We can get the dunnage and ourselves over in the flat-boat. It'll make our +arms crack—but we can do it. I've got twenty-seven horses. I've a notion +to chase 'em in. The river won't be any lower to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But you may be a few horses ahead."</p> + +<p>Stevens bit off a chunk of tobacco and sat down. For a few moments he +looked at the muddy flood with an ugly eye. Then he chuckled, and grinned.</p> + +<p>"Came through the camp half an hour ago," he said. "Hear you cleaned up on +Bill Quade."</p> + +<p>"A bit," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>Stevens rolled his quid and spat into the water slushing at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Guess I saw the woman when she got off the train," he went on. "She +dropped something. I picked it up, but she was so darned pretty as she +stood there looking about I didn't dare go up an' give it to her. If it had +been worth anything I'd screwed up my courage. But it wasn't—so I just +gawped like the others. It was a piece of paper. Mebby you'd like it as a +souvenir, seein' as you laid out Quade for her."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Stevens fished a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and +gave it to his companion. Aldous had sat down beside him. He smoothed the +page out on his knee. There was no writing on it, but it was crowded thick +with figures, as if the maker of the numerals had been doing some problem +in mathematics. The chief thing that interested him was that wherever +monetary symbols were used it was the "pound" and not the "dollar" sign. +The totals of certain columns were rather startling.</p> + +<p>"Guess she's a millionaire if that's her own money she's been figgering," +said Stevens. "Notice that figger there!" He pointed with a stubby +forefinger. "Pretty near a billion, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of the "pound" sign. She had not looked like the +Englishwomen he had met. He folded the slip of paper and put it in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>Stevens eyed him seriously.</p> + +<p>"I was coming over to give you a bit of advice before I left for the +Maligne Lake country," he said. "You'd better move. Quade won't want you +around after this. Besides——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"My kid heard something," continued the packer, edging nearer. "You was +mighty good to the kid when I was down an' out, Aldous. I ought to tell +you. It wasn't an hour ago the kid was behind the tent an' he heard Quade +and Slim Barker talking. So far as I can find from the kid, Quade has gone +nutty over her. He's ravin'. He told Slim that he'd give ten thousand +dollars to get her in his hands. What sent the boy down to me was Quade +tellin' Slim that he'd get <i>you</i> first. He told Slim to go on to Tête +Jaune—follow the girl!"</p> + +<p>"The deuce you say!" cried Aldous, clutching the other's arm suddenly. +"He's done that?"</p> + +<p>"That's what the kid says."</p> + +<p>Aldous rose to his feet slowly. The careless smile was playing about his +mouth again. A few men had learned that in those moments John Aldous was +dangerous.</p> + +<p>"The kid is undoubtedly right," he said, looking down at Stevens. "But I am +quite sure the young woman is capable of taking care of herself. Quade has +a tremendous amount of nerve, setting Slim to follow her, hasn't he? Slim +may run up against a husband or a brother."</p> + +<p>Stevens haunched his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It's not the woman I'm thinking about. It's you. I'd sure change my +location."</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't it be just as well if I told the police of his threat?" asked +Aldous, looking across the river with a glimmer of humour in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell!" was the packer's rejoinder.</p> + +<p>Slowly he unwound his long legs and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Take my advice—move!" he said. "As for me, I'm going to cross that cussed +river this afternoon or know the reason why."</p> + +<p>He stalked away in the direction of his outfit, chewing viciously at his +quid. For a few moments Aldous stood undecided. He would liked to have +joined the half-dozen men he saw lounging restfully a distance beyond the +grazing ponies. But Stevens had made him acutely aware of a new danger. He +was thinking of his cabin—and the priceless achievement of his last months +of work, his manuscript. If Quade should destroy that——</p> + +<p>He clenched his hands and walked swiftly toward his camp. To "burn out" an +enemy was one of Quade's favourite methods of retaliation. He had heard +this. He also knew that Quade's work was done so cleverly that the police +had been unable to call him to account.</p> + +<p>Quade's status had interested Aldous from the beginning. He had discovered +that Quade and Culver Rann, his partner at Tête Jaune, were forces to be +reckoned with even by the "powers" along the line of rail. They were the +two chiefs of the "underground," the men who controlled the most dangerous +element from Miette to Fort George. He had once seen Culver Rann, a quiet, +keen-eyed, immaculately groomed man of forty—the cleverest scoundrel that +had ever drifted into the Canadian west. He had been told that Rann was +really the brain of the combination, and that the two had picked up a +quarter of a million in various ways. But it was Quade with whom he had to +deal now, and he began to thank Stevens for his warning. He was filled with +a sense of relief when he reached his cabin and found it as he had left +it. He always made a carbon copy of his work. This copy he now put into a +waterproof tin box, and the box he concealed under a log a short distance +back in the bush.</p> + +<p>"Now go ahead, Quade," he laughed to himself, a curious, almost exultant +ring in his voice. "I haven't had any real excitement for so long I can't +remember, and if you start the fun there's going to <i>be</i> fun!"</p> + +<p>He returned to his birds, perched himself behind a bush at the river's +edge, and began skinning them. He had almost finished when he heard hoarse +shouts from up the river. From his position he could see the stream a +hundred yards below the ford. Stevens had driven in his horses. He could +see them breasting the first sweep of the current, their heads held high, +struggling for the opposite shore. He rose, dropped his birds, and stared.</p> + +<p>"Good God, what a fool!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>He saw the tragedy almost before it had begun. Still three hundred yards +below the swimming horses was the gravelly bar which they must reach on the +opposite side. He noted the grayish strip of smooth water that marked the +end of the dead-line. Three or four of the stronger animals were forging +steadily toward this. The others grouped close together, almost motionless +in their last tremendous fight, were left farther and farther behind. Then +came the break. A mare and her yearling colt had gone in with the bunch. +Aldous saw the colt, with its small head and shoulders high out of the +water, sweep down like a chip with the current. A cold chill ran through +him as he heard the whinneying scream of the mother—a warning cry that +held for him the pathos and the despair of a creature that was human. He +knew what it meant. "Wait—I'm coming—I'm coming!" was in that cry. He saw +the mare give up and follow resistlessly with the deadly current, her eyes +upon her colt. The heads behind her wavered, then turned, and in another +moment the herd was sweeping down to its destruction.</p> + +<p>Aldous felt like turning his head. But the spectacle fascinated him, and he +looked. He did not think of Stevens and his loss as the first of the herd +plunged in among the rocks. He stood with white face and clenched hands, +leaning over the water boiling at his feet, cursing softly in his +helplessness. To him came the last terrible cries of the perishing animals. +He saw head after head go under. Out of the white spume of a great rock +against which the flood split itself with the force of an avalanche he saw +one horse pitched bodily, as if thrown from a huge catapault. The last +animal had disappeared when chance turned his eyes upstream and close in to +shore. Here flowed a steady current free of rock, and down this—head and +shoulders still high out of the water—came the colt! What miracle had +saved the little fellow thus far Aldous did not stop to ask. Fifty yards +below it would meet the fate of the others. Half that distance in the +direction of the maelstrom below was the dead trunk of a fallen spruce +overhanging the water for fifteen or twenty feet. In a flash Aldous was +racing toward it. He climbed out on it, leaned far over, and reached down. +His hand touched the water. In the grim excitement of rescue he forgot his +own peril. There was one chance in twenty that the colt would come within +his reach, and it did. He made a single lunge and caught it by the ear. For +a moment after that his heart turned sick. Under the added strain the dead +spruce sagged down with a warning crack. But it held, and Aldous hung to +his grip on the ear. Foot by foot he wormed his way back, until at last he +had dragged the little animal ashore.</p> + +<p>And then a voice spoke behind him, a voice that he would have recognized +among ten thousand, low, sweet, thrilling.</p> + +<p>"That was splendid, John Aldous!" it said. "If I were a man I would want to +be a man like you!"</p> + +<p>He turned. A few steps from him stood Joanne Gray. Her face was as white as +the bit of lace at her throat. Her lips were colourless, and her bosom rose +and fell swiftly. He knew that she, too, had witnessed the tragedy. And the +eyes that looked at him were glorious.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a><h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> + +<p>To John Aldous Joanne's appearance at this moment was like an anti-climax. +It plunged him headlong for a single moment into what he believed to be the +absurdity of a situation. He had a quick mental picture of himself out on +the dead spruce, performing a bit of mock-heroism by dragging in a +half-drowned colt by one ear. In another instant this had passed, and he +was wondering why Joanne Gray was not on her way to Tête Jaune.</p> + +<p>"It was splendid!" she was saying again, her eyes glowing at him. "I know +men who would not have risked that for a human!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they would have been showing good judgment," replied Aldous.</p> + +<p>He noticed now that she was holding with one hand the end of a long slender +sapling which a week or two before he had cut and trimmed for a fish-pole. +He nodded toward it, a half-cynical smile on his lips.</p> + +<p>"Were you going to fish me out—or the colt?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You," she replied. "I thought you were in danger." And then she added, "I +suppose you are deeply grateful that fate did not compel you to be saved by +a woman."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. If the spruce had snapped, I would have caught at the end of +your sapling like any drowning rat—or man. Allow me to thank you."</p> + +<p>She had stepped down to the level strip of sand on which the colt was +weakly struggling to rise to its feet. She was breathing quickly. Her face +was still pale. She was without a hat, and as she bent for a moment over +the colt Aldous felt his eyes drawn irresistibly to the soft thick coils of +her hair, a glory of colour that made him think of the lustrous brown of a +ripe wintelberry. She looked up suddenly and caught his eyes upon her.</p> + +<p>"I came quite by accident," she explained quickly. "I wanted to be alone, +and Mrs. Otto said this path would lead to the river. When I saw you I was +about to turn back. And then I saw the other—the horses coming down the +stream. It was terrible. Are they all drowned?"</p> + +<p>"All that you saw. It wasn't a pretty sight, was it?" There was a +suggestive inquiry in his voice as he added, "If you had gone to Tête Jaune +you would have missed the unpleasantness of the spectacle."</p> + +<p>"I would have gone, but something happened. They say it was a cave-in, a +slide—something like that. The train cannot go on until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And you are to stay with the Ottos?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash she had seemed to read his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she added, before he could speak. "I can see that I have +annoyed you. I have literally projected myself into your work, and I am +afraid that I have caused you trouble. Mrs. Otto has told me of this man +they call Quade. She says he is dangerous. And I have made him your enemy."</p> + +<p>"I am, not afraid of Quade. The incident was nothing more than an agreeable +interruption to what was becoming a rather monotonous existence up here. I +have always believed, you know, that a certain amount of physical +excitement is good oil for our mental machinery. That, perhaps, was why you +caught me hauling at His Coltship's ear."</p> + +<p>He had spoken stiffly. There was a hard note in his voice, a suggestion of +something that was displeasing in his forced laugh. He knew that in these +moments he was fighting against his inner self—against his desire to tell +her how glad he was that something had held back the Tête Jaune train, and +how wonderful her hair looked in the afternoon sun. He was struggling to +keep himself behind the barriers he had built up and so long maintained in +his writings. And yet, as he looked, he felt something crumbling into +ruins. He knew that he had hurt her. The hardness of his words, the +coldness of his smile, his apparently utter indifference to her had sent +something that was almost like a quick, physical pain into her eyes. He +drew a step nearer, so that he caught the soft contour of her cheek. Joanne +Gray heard him, and lowered her head slightly, so that he could not see. +She was a moment too late. On her cheek Aldous saw a single creeping +drop—a tear.</p> + +<p>In an instant he was at her side. With a quick movement she brushed the +tear away before she faced him.</p> + +<p>"I've hurt you," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I've hurt you, +and God knows I'm a brute for doing it. I've treated you as badly as +Quade—only in a different way. I know how I've made you feel—that you've +been a nuisance, and have got me into trouble, and that I don't want to +have anything more to do with you. Have I made you feel that?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid—you have."</p> + +<p>He reached out a hand, and almost involuntarily her own came to it. She saw +the change in his face, regret, pain, and then that slow-coming, wonderful +laughter in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's just how I set out to make you feel," he confessed, the warmth of +her hand sending a thrill through him. "I might as well be frank, don't you +think? Until you came I had but one desire, and that was to finish my book. +I had planned great work for to-day. And you spoiled it. I couldn't get you +out of my mind. And it made me—ugly."</p> + +<p>"And that was—all?" she whispered, a tense waiting in her eyes. "You +didn't think——"</p> + +<p>"What Quade thought," he bit in sharply. The grip of his fingers hurt her +hand. "No, not that. My God, I didn't make you think <i>that?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I'm a stranger—and they say women don't go to Tête Jaune alone," she +answered doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"That's true, they don't—not as a general rule. Especially women like you. +You're alone, a stranger, and too beautiful. I don't say that to flatter +you. You are beautiful, and you undoubtedly know it. To let you go on alone +and unprotected among three or four thousand men like most of those up +there would be a crime. And the women, too—the Little Sisters. They'd +blast you. If you had a husband, a brother or a father waiting for you it +would be different. But you've told me you haven't. You have made me change +my mind about my book. You are of more interest to me just now than that. +Will you believe me? Will you let me be a friend, if you need a friend?"</p> + +<p>To Aldous it seemed that she drew herself up a little proudly. For a moment +she seemed taller. A rose-flush of colour spread over her cheeks. She drew +her hand from him. And yet, as she looked at him, he could see that she was +glad.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe you," she said. "But I must not accept your offer of +friendship. You have done more for me now than I can ever repay. Friendship +means service, and to serve me would spoil your plans, for you are in great +haste to complete your book."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that you need my assistance, the book can wait."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have said that," she cut in quickly, her lips tightening +slightly. "It was utterly absurd of me to hint that I might require +assistance—that I cannot take care of myself. But I shall be proud of the +friendship of John Aldous."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can take care of yourself, Ladygray," said Aldous softly, looking +into her eyes and yet speaking as if to himself. "That is why you have +broken so curiously into my life. It's <i>that</i>—and not your beauty. I have +known beautiful women before. But they were—just women, frail things that +might snap under stress. I have always thought there is only one woman in +ten thousand who would not do that—under certain conditions. I believe you +are that one in ten thousand. You can go on to Tête Jaune alone. You can go +anywhere alone—and care for yourself."</p> + +<p>He was looking at her so strangely that she held her breath, her lips +parted, the flush in her cheeks deepening.</p> + +<p>"And the strangest part of it all is that I have always known you away back +in my imagination," he went on. "You have lived there, and have troubled +me. I could not construct you perfectly. It is almost inconceivable that +you should have borne the same name—Joanne. Joanne, of 'Fair Play.'"</p> + +<p>She gave a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"Joanne was—terrible," she cried. "She was bad—bad to the heart and soul +of her!"</p> + +<p>"She was splendid," replied Aldous, without a change in his quiet voice. +"She was splendid—but bad. I racked myself to find a soul for her, and I +failed. And yet she was splendid. It was my crime—not hers—that she +lacked a soul. She would have been my ideal, but I spoiled her. And by +spoiling her I sold half a million copies of the book. I did not do it +purposely. I would have given her a soul if I could have found one. She +went her way."</p> + +<p>"And you compare me to—<i>her?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Aldous deliberately. "You are that Joanne. But you possess what +I could not give to her. Joanne of 'Fair Play' was splendid without a soul. +You have what she lacked. You may not understand, but you have come to +perfect what I only partly created."</p> + +<p>The colour had slowly ebbed from Joanne's face. There was a mysterious +darkness in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you were not John Aldous I would—strike you," she said. "As it +is—yes—I want you as a friend."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand. For a moment he felt its warmth again in his own. +He bowed over it. Her eyes rested steadily on his blond head, and again she +noted the sprinkle of premature gray in his hair. For a second time she +felt almost overwhelmingly the mysterious strength of this man. Perhaps +each took three breaths before John Aldous raised his head. In that time +something wonderful and complete passed between them. Neither could have +told the other what it was. When their eyes met again, it was in their +faces.</p> + +<p>"I have planned to have supper in my cabin to-night," said Aldous, breaking +the tension of that first moment. "Won't you be my guest, Ladygray?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Otto——" she began.</p> + +<p>"I will go to her at once and explain that you are going to eat partridges +with me," he interrupted. "Come—let me show you into my workshop and +home."</p> + +<p>He led her to the cabin and into its one big room.</p> + +<p>"You will make yourself at home while I am gone, won't you?" he invited. +"If it will give you any pleasure you may peel a few potatoes. I won't be +gone ten minutes."</p> + +<p>Not waiting for any protest she might have, Aldous slipped back through the +door and took the path up to the Ottos'.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_V"></a><h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> + +<p>As soon as he had passed from the view of the cabin door Aldous shortened +his pace. He knew that never in his life had he needed to readjust himself +more than at the present moment. A quarter of an hour had seen a complete +and miraculous revolution within him. It was a change so unusual and +apparently so impossible that he could not grasp the situation and the fact +all at once. But the truth of it swept over him more and more swiftly as he +made his way along the dark, narrow trail that led up to the Miette Plain. +It was something that not only amazed and thrilled him. First—as in all +things—he saw the humour of it. He, John Aldous of all men, had utterly +obliterated himself, and for a <i>woman</i>. He had even gone so far as to offer +the sacrifice of his most important work. Frankly he had told Joanne that +she interested him more just now than his book. Again he repeated to +himself that it had not been a surrender—but an obliteration. With a pair +of lovely eyes looking quietly into him, he had wiped the slate clean of +the things he had preached for ten years and the laws he had made for +himself. And as he came in sight of the big Otto tent, he found himself +smiling, his breath coming quickly, strange voices singing within him.</p> + +<p>He stopped to load and light his pipe before he faced Mrs. Otto, and he +clouded himself in as much smoke as possible while he explained to her +that he had almost forced Joanne to stop at his cabin and eat partridges +with him. He learned that the Tête Jaune train could not go on until the +next day, and after Mrs. Otto had made him take a loaf of fresh bread and a +can of home-made marmalade as a contribution to their feast, he turned back +toward the cabin, trying to whistle in his old careless way.</p> + +<p>The questions he had first asked himself about Joanne forced themselves +back upon him now with deeper import. Almost unconsciously he had revealed +himself to her. He had spread open for her eyes and understanding the page +which he had so long hidden. He had as much as confessed to her that she +had come to change him—to complete what he had only half created. It had +been an almost inconceivable and daring confession, and he believed that +she understood him. More than that, she had read about him. She had read +his books. She knew John Aldous—the man.</p> + +<p>But what did he know about her beyond the fact that her name was Joanne +Gray, and that the on-sweeping Horde had brought her into his life as +mysteriously as a storm might have flung him a bit of down from a swan's +breast? Where had she come from? And why was she going to Tête Jaune? It +must be some important motive was taking her to a place like Tête Jaune, +the rail-end, a place of several thousand men, with its crude muscle and +brawn and the seven passions of man. It was an impossible place for a young +and beautiful woman unprotected. If Joanne had known any one among the +engineers or contractors, or had she possessed a letter of introduction to +them, the tense lines would not have gathered so deeply about the corners +of Aldous' mouth. But these men whose brains were behind the Horde—the +engineers and the contractors—knew what women alone and unprotected meant +at Tête Jaune. Such women floated in with the Horde. And Joanne was going +in with the Horde. There lay the peril—and the mystery of it.</p> + +<p>So engrossed was Aldous in his thoughts that he had come very quietly to +the cabin door. It was Joanne's voice that roused him. Sweet and low she +was singing a few lines from a song which he had never heard.</p> + +<p>She stopped when Aldous appeared at the door. It seemed to him that her +eyes were a deeper, more wonderful blue as she looked up at him, and +smiled. She had found a towel for an apron, and was peeling potatoes.</p> + +<p>"You will have some unusual excuses to make very soon," she greeted him. +"We had a visitor while you were gone. I was washing the potatoes when I +looked up to find a pair of the fiercest, reddest moustaches I have ever +seen, ornamenting the doorway. The man had two eyes that seemed about to +fall out when he saw me. He popped away like a rabbit—and—and—there's +something he left behind in his haste!"</p> + +<p>Joanne's eyes were flooded with laughter as she nodded at the door. On the +sill was a huge quid of tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Stevens!" Aldous chuckled. "God bless my soul, if you frightened him into +giving up a quid of tobacco like that you sure <i>did</i> startle him some!" He +kicked Stevens' lost property out with the toe of his boot and turned to +Joanne, showing her the fresh bread and marmalade. "Mrs. Otto sent these to +you," he said. "And the train won't leave until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>In her silence he pulled a chair in front of her, sat down close, and +thrust the point of his hunting knife into one of the two remaining +potatoes.</p> + +<p>"And when it does go I'm going with you," he added.</p> + +<p>He expected this announcement would have some effect on her. As she jumped +up with the pan of potatoes, leaving the one still speared on the end of +his knife, he caught only the corner of a bewitching smile.</p> + +<p>"You still believe that I will be unable to take care of myself up at this +terrible Tête Jaune?" she asked, bending for a moment over the table. "Do +you?"</p> + +<p>"No. You can care for yourself anywhere, Ladygray," he repeated. "But I am +quite sure that it will be less troublesome for me to see that no insults +are offered you than for you to resent those insults when they come. Tête +Jaune is full of Quades," he added.</p> + +<p>The smile was gone from her face when she turned to him. Her blue eyes were +filled with a tense anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I had almost forgotten that man," she whispered. "And you mean that you +would fight for me—again?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand times."</p> + +<p>The colour grew deeper in her cheeks. "I read something about you once that +I have never forgotten, John Aldous," she said. "It was after you returned +from Thibet. It said that you were largely made up of two emotions—your +contempt for woman and your love of adventure; that it would be impossible +for you not to see a flaw in one, and that for the other—physical +excitement—you would go to the ends of the earth. Perhaps it is this—your +desire for adventure—that makes you want to go with me to Tête Jaune?"</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to believe that it will be the greatest adventure of my +life," he replied, and something in his quiet voice held her silent. He +rose to his feet, and stood before her. "It is already the Great +Adventure," he went on. "I feel it. And I am the one to judge. Until to-day +I would have staked my life that no power could have wrung from me the +confession I am going to make to you voluntarily. I have laughed at the +opinion the world has held of me. To me it has all been a colossal joke. I +have enjoyed the hundreds of columns aimed at me by excited women through +the press. They have all asked the same question: Why do you not write of +the good things in women instead of always the bad? I have never given them +an answer. But I answer you now—here. I have not picked upon the +weaknesses of women because I despise them. Those weaknesses—the +destroying frailties of womankind—I have driven over rough-shod through +the pages of my books because I have always believed that Woman was the one +thing which God came nearest to creating <i>perfect</i>. I believe they should +be perfect. And because they have not quite that perfection which should be +theirs I have driven the cold facts home as hard as I could. I have been a +fool and an iconoclast instead of a builder. This confession to you is +proof that you have brought me face to face with the greatest adventure of +all."</p> + +<p>The colour in her cheeks had centred in two bright spots. Her lips formed +words which came slowly, strangely.</p> + +<p>"I guess—I understand," she said. "Perhaps I, too, would have been that +kind of an iconoclast—if I could have put the things I have thought into +written words." She drew a deep breath, and went on, her eyes full upon +him, speaking as if out of a dream. "The Great Adventure—for you. Yes; and +perhaps for both."</p> + +<p>Her hands were drawn tightly to her breast. Something about her as she +stood there, her back to the table, drew John Aldous to her side, forced +the question from his lips: "Tell me, Ladygray—why are you going to Tête +Jaune?"</p> + +<p>In that same strange way, as if her lips were framing words beyond their +power to control, she answered:</p> + +<p>"I am going—to find—my husband."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a><h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> + +<p>Silent, his head bowed a little, John Aldous stood before her after those +last words. A slight noise outside gave him the pretext to turn to the +door. She was going to Tête Jaune—to find her husband! He had not expected +that. For a breath, as he looked out toward the bush, his mind was in a +strange daze. A dozen times she had given him to understand there was no +husband, father, or brother waiting for her at the rail-end. She had told +him that she was alone—without friends. And now, like a confession, those +words had come strangely from her lips.</p> + +<p>What he had heard was one of Otto's pack-horses coming down to drink. He +turned toward her again.</p> + +<p>Joanne stood with her back still to the table. She had slipped a hand into +the front of her dress and had drawn forth a long thick envelope. As she +opened it, Aldous saw that it contained banknotes. From among these she +picked out a bit of paper and offered it to him.</p> + +<p>"That will explain—partly," she said.</p> + +<p>It was a newspaper clipping, worn and faded, with a date two years old. It +had apparently been cut from an English paper, and told briefly of the +tragic death of Mortimer FitzHugh, son of a prominent Devonshire family, +who had lost his life while on a hunting trip in the British Columbia +Wilds.</p> + +<p>"He was my husband," said Joanne, as Aldous finished. "Until six months ago +I had no reason to believe that the statement in the paper was not true. +Then—an acquaintance came out here hunting. He returned with a strange +story. He declared that he had seen Mr. FitzHugh alive. Now you know why I +am here. I had not meant to tell you. It places me in a light which I do +not think that I can explain away—just now. I have come to prove or +disprove his death. If he is alive——"</p> + +<p>For the first time she betrayed the struggle she was making against some +powerful emotion which she was fighting to repress. Her face had paled. She +stopped herself with a quick breath, as if knowing that she had already +gone too far.</p> + +<p>"I guess I understand," said Aldous. "For some reason your anxiety is not +that you will find him dead, Ladygray, but that you may find him alive."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, that is it. But you must not urge me farther. It is a terrible +thing to say. You will think I am not a woman, but a fiend. And I am your +guest. You have invited me to supper. And—the potatoes are ready, and +there is no fire!"</p> + +<p>She had forced a smile back to her lips. John Aldous whirled toward the +door.</p> + +<p>"I will have the partridges in two seconds!" he cried. "I dropped them when +the horses went through the rapids."</p> + +<p>The oppressive and crushing effect of Joanne's first mention of a husband +was gone. He made no effort to explain or analyze the two sudden changes +that swept over him. He accepted them as facts, and that was all. Where a +few moments before there had been the leaden grip of something that seemed +to be physically choking him, there was now again the strange buoyancy with +which he had gone to the Otto tent. He began to whistle as he went to the +river's edge. He was whistling when he returned, the two birds in his hand. +Joanne was waiting for him in the door. Again her face was a faintly tinted +vision of tranquil loveliness; her eyes were again like the wonderful blue +pools over the sunlit mountains. She smiled as he came up. He was +amazed—not that she had recovered so completely from the emotional +excitement that had racked her, but because she betrayed in no way a sign +of grief—of suspense or of anxiety. A few minutes ago he had heard her +singing. He could almost believe that her lips might break into song again +as she stood there.</p> + +<p>From that moment until the sun sank behind the mountains and gray shadows +began to creep in where the light had been, there was no other reference to +the things that had happened or the things that had been said since +Joanne's arrival. For the first time in years John Aldous completely forgot +his work. He was lost in Joanne. With the tremendous reaction that was +working out in him she became more and more wonderful to him with each +breath that he drew. He made no effort to control the change that was +sweeping through him. His one effort was to keep it from being too apparent +to her.</p> + +<p>The way in which Joanne had taken his invitation was as delightful as it +was new to him. She had become both guest and hostess. With her lovely arms +bared halfway to the shoulders she rolled out a batch of biscuits. "Hot +biscuits go so well with marmalade," she told him. He built a fire. Beyond +that, and bringing in the water, she gave him to understand that his duties +were at an end, and that he could smoke while she prepared the supper. With +the beginning of dusk he closed the cabin door that he might have an excuse +for lighting the big hanging lamp a little earlier. He had imagined how its +warm glow would flood down upon the thick soft coils of her shining hair.</p> + +<p>Every fibre in him throbbed with a keen and exquisite satisfaction as he +sat down opposite her. During the meal he looked into the quiet, velvety +blue of her eyes a hundred times. He found it a delightful sensation to +talk to her and look into those eyes at the same time. He told her more +about himself than he had ever told another soul. It was she who spoke +first of the manuscript upon which he was working. He had spoken of certain +adventures that had led up to the writing of one of his books.</p> + +<p>"And this last book you are writing, which you call 'Mothers,'" she said. +"Is it to be like 'Fair Play?'"</p> + +<p>"It was to have been the last of the trilogy. But it won't be now, +Ladygray. I've changed my mind."</p> + +<p>"But it is so nearly finished, you say?"</p> + +<p>"I would have completed it this week. I was rushing it to an end at fever +heat when—you came."</p> + +<p>He saw the troubled look in her eyes, and hastened to add:</p> + +<p>"Let us not talk about that manuscript, Ladygray. Some day I will let you +read it, and then you will understand why your coming has not hurt it. At +first I was unreasonably disturbed because I thought that I must finish it +within a week from to-day. I start out on a new adventure then—a strange +adventure, into the North."</p> + +<p>"That means—the wild country?" she asked. "Up there in the North—there +are no people?"</p> + +<p>"An occasional Indian, perhaps a prospector now and then," he said. "Last +year I travelled a hundred and twenty-seven days without seeing a human +face except that of my Cree companion."</p> + +<p>She had leaned a little over the table, and was looking at him intently, +her eyes shining.</p> + +<p>"That is why I have understood you, and read between the printed lines in +your books," she said. "If I had been a man, I would have been a great deal +like you. I love those things—loneliness, emptiness, the great spaces +where you hear only the whisperings of the winds and the fall of no other +feet but your own. Oh, I should have been a man! It was born in me. It was +a part of me. And I loved it—loved it."</p> + +<p>A poignant grief had shot into her eyes. Her voice broke almost in a sob. +Amazed, he looked at her in silence across the table.</p> + +<p>"You have lived that life, Ladygray?" he said after a moment. "You have +seen it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she nodded, clasping and unclasping her slim white hands. "For years +and years, perhaps even more than you, John Aldous! I was born in it. And +it was my life for a long time—until my father died." She paused, and he +saw her struggling to subdue the quivering throb in her throat. "We were +inseparable," she went on, her voice becoming suddenly strange and quiet. +"He was father, mother—everything to me. It was too wonderful. Together +we hunted out the mysteries and the strange things in the out-of-the-way +places of the earth. It was his passion. He had given birth to it in me. I +was always with him, everywhere. And then he died, soon after his discovery +of that wonderful buried city of Mindano, in the heart of Africa. Perhaps +you have read——"</p> + +<p>"Good God," breathed Aldous, so low that his voice did not rise above a +whisper. "Joanne—Ladygray—you are not speaking of Daniel Gray—Sir Daniel +Gray, the Egyptologist, the antiquarian who uncovered the secrets of an +ancient and wonderful civilization in the heart of darkest Africa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you—are his daughter?"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head.</p> + +<p>Like one in a dream John Aldous rose from his chair and went to her. He +seized her hands and drew her up so that they stood face to face. Again +that strange and beautiful calmness filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Our trails have strangely crossed, Lady Joanne," he said. "They have been +crossing—for years. While Sir Daniel was at Murja, on the eve of his great +discovery, I was at St. Louis on the Senegal coast. I slept in that little +Cape Verde hotel, in the low whitewashed room overlooking the sea. The +proprietor told me that Sir Daniel had occupied it before me, and I found a +broken fountain pen in the drawer of that sickly black teakwood desk, with +the carved serpent's head. And I was at Gampola at another time, headed for +the interior of Ceylon, when I learned that I was travelling again one of +Sir Daniel's trails. And you were with him!"</p> + +<p>"Always," said Joanne.</p> + +<p>For a few tense moments they had looked steadily into each other's eyes. +Swiftly, strangely, the world was bridging itself for them. Their minds +swept back swiftly as the fire in a thunder-sky. They were no longer +strangers. They were no longer friends of a day. The grip of Aldous' hands +tightened. A hundred things sprang to his lips. Before he could speak, he +saw a sudden, startled change leap into Joanne's face. She had turned her +face a little, so that she was looking toward the window. A frightened cry +broke from her lips. Aldous whirled about. There was nothing there. He +looked at Joanne again. She was white and trembling. Her hands were +clutched at her breast. Her eyes, big and dark and staring, were still +fixed on the window.</p> + +<p>"That man!" she panted. "His face was there—against the glass—like a +devil's!"</p> + +<p>"Quade?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She caught at his arm as he sprang toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she cried. "You mustn't go out——"</p> + +<p>For a moment he turned at the door. He was as she had seen him in Quade's +place, terribly cool, a strange, quiet smile on his lips. His eyes were +gray, smiling steel.</p> + +<p>"Close the door after me and lock it until I return," he said. "You are the +first woman guest I ever had, Ladygray. I cannot allow you to be insulted!"</p> + +<p>As he went out she saw him slip something from his pocket. She caught the +glitter of it in the lamp-glow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br> + +<p>It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade. He ran with the quickness +of a hare around the end of the cabin, past the window, and then stopped to +listen, his automatic in his hand, his eye piercing the gloom for some +moving shadow. He had not counted on an instant's hesitation. He would +shoot Quade, for he knew why the mottled beast had been at the window. +Stevens' boy had been right. Quade was after Joanne. His ugly soul was +disrupted with a desire to possess her, and Aldous knew that when roused by +passion he was more like a devil-fish than a man—a creeping, slimy, +night-seeking creature who had not only the power of the underworld back of +him, but wealth as well. He did not think of him as a man as he stood +listening, but as a beast. He was ready to shoot. But he saw nothing. He +heard no sound that could have been made by a stumbling foot or a moving +body. An hour later, the moon would have been up, but it was dark now +except for the stars. He heard the hoot of an owl a hundred yards away. Out +in the river something splashed. From the timber beyond Buffalo Prairie +came the yapping bark of a coyote. For five minutes he stood as silent as +one of the rocks behind him. He realized that to go on—to seek blindly for +Quade in the darkness, would be folly. He went back, tapped at the door, +and reëntered the cabin when Joanne threw back the lock.</p> + +<p>She was still pale. Her eyes were bright.</p> + +<p>"I was coming—in a moment," she said, "I was beginning to fear that——"</p> + +<p>"—he had struck me down in the dark?" added Aldous, as she hesitated. +"Well, he would like to do just that, Joanne." Unconsciously her name had +slipped from him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to +call her Joanne now. "Is it necessary for me to tell you what this man +Quade is—why he was looking through the window?"</p> + +<p>She shuddered.</p> + +<p>"No—no—I understand!"</p> + +<p>"Only partly," continued Aldous, his face white and set. "It is necessary +that you should know more than you have guessed, for your own protection. +If you were like most other women I would not tell you the truth, but would +try to shield you from it. As it is you should know. There is only one +other man in the Rocky Mountains more dangerous than Bill Quade. He is +Culver Rann, up at Tête Jaune. They are partners—partners in crime, in +sin, in everything that is bad and that brings them gold. Their influence +among the rougher elements along the line of rail is complete. They are so +strongly entrenched that they have put contractors out of business because +they would not submit to blackmail. The few harmless police we have +following the steel have been unable to touch them. They have cleaned up +hundreds of thousands, chiefly in three things—blackmail, whisky, and +women. Quade is the viler of the two. He is like a horrible beast. Culver +Rann makes me think of a sleek and shining serpent. But it is this man +Quade——"</p> + +<p>He found it almost impossible to go on with Joanne's blue eyes gazing so +steadily into his.</p> + +<p>"—whom we have made our enemy," she finished for him.</p> + +<p>"Yes—and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "You +cannot go on to Tête Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If you +do——"</p> + +<p>"What will happen?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I am +going to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on to +Tête Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to which +I can take you, and where you will be safe."</p> + +<p>As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table.</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said.</p> + +<p>He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through the +door. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness of +the spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand.</p> + +<p>"It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like the +shell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?"</p> + +<p>"No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and they +made me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them."</p> + +<p>He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as she +spoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, that +made her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand was +gripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert, +yet she could detect nothing of caution or preparedness in his careless +voice.</p> + +<p>"The bloodstones didn't trouble me," he answered. "I can't remember +anything that upset me more than the snakes. I am a terrible coward when it +comes to anything that crawls without feet. I will run from a snake no +longer than your little finger—in fact, I'm just as scared of a little +grass snake as I am of a python. It's the <i>thing</i>, and not its size, that +horrifies me. Once I jumped out of a boat into ten feet of water because my +companion caught an eel on his line, and persisted in the argument that it +was a fish. Thank Heaven we don't have snakes up here. I've seen only three +or four in all my experience in the Northland."</p> + +<p>She laughed softly in spite of the uneasy thrill the night held for her.</p> + +<p>"It is hard for me to imagine you being afraid," she said. "And yet if you +were afraid I know it would be of just some little thing like that. My +father was one of the bravest men in the world, and a hundred times I have +seen him show horror at sight of a spider. If you were afraid of snakes, +why did you go up the Gampola, in Ceylon?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know the snakes were there," he chuckled. "I hadn't dreamed there +were a half so many snakes in the whole world as there were along that +confounded river. I slept sitting up, dressed in rubber wading boots that +came to my waist, and wore thick leather gloves. I got out of the country +at the earliest possible moment."</p> + +<p>When they entered the edge of the Miette clearing and saw the glow of +lights ahead of them, Aldous caught the sudden upturn of his companion's +face, laughing at him in the starlight.</p> + +<p>"Kind, thoughtful John Aldous!" she whispered, as if to herself. "How nice +of you it was to talk of such pleasant things while we were coming through +that black, dreadful swamp—with a Bill Quade waiting for us on the side!"</p> + +<p>A low ripple of laughter broke from her lips, and he stopped dead in his +tracks, forgetting to put the automatic back in his pocket. At sight of it +the amusement died in her face. She caught his arm, and one of her hands +seized the cold steel of the pistol.</p> + +<p>"Would he—<i>dare?</i>" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"You can't tell," replied Aldous, putting the gun in his pocket. "And that +was a creepy sort of conversation to load you down with, wasn't it, +Ladygray? I imagine you'll catch me in all sorts of blunders like that." He +pointed ahead. "There's Mrs. Otto now. She's looking this way and wondering +with all her big heart if you ought not to be at home and in bed."</p> + +<p>The door of the Otto home was wide open, and silhouetted in the flood of +light was the good-natured Scotchwoman. Aldous gave the whistling signal +which she and her menfolk always recognized, and hurried on with Joanne.</p> + +<p>Before they had quite reached the tent-house, Joanne put a detaining hand +on his arm.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to go back to the cabin to-night," she said. "The face at +the window—was terrible. I am afraid. I don't want you to be there alone."</p> + +<p>Her words sent a warm glow through him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Quade will not come back."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to return to the cabin," she persisted. "Is there no +other place where you can stay?"</p> + +<p>"I might go down and console Stevens, and borrow a couple of his horse +blankets for a bed if that will please you."</p> + +<p>"It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may go +on to Tête Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?"</p> + +<p>"It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'll +promise not to sleep in the cabin to-night."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night, +and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacks +under the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety and +fear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw her +pause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. His +heart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangely +new and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way.</p> + +<p>He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the moment +he had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood was +roused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to find +Quade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himself +that he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficult +for Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business that +could be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job to +lose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white striped +tent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed him +before, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now he +wanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant to +come up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into the +lighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrust +carelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroad +builders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool balls +and the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or four +musical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's place +was going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whom +he knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their manner +toward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certain +they would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign. +For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotch +surveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no mention of him. Purposely he +passed Quade's tent and walked to the end of the street, nodding and +looking closely at those whom he knew. It was becoming more and more +evident to him that Quade and his pals were keeping the affair of the +afternoon as quiet as possible. Stevens had heard of it. He wondered how.</p> + +<p>Aldous retraced his steps. As though nothing had happened, he entered +Quade's place. There were a dozen men inside, and among them he recognized +three who had been there that afternoon. He nodded to them. Slim Barker was +in Quade's place behind the counter. Barker was Quade's right-hand man at +Miette, and there was a glitter in his rat-like eyes as Aldous leaned over +the glass case at one end of the counter and asked for cigars. He fumbled a +bit as he picked out half a dollar's worth from the box. His eyes met +Slim's.</p> + +<p>"Where is Quade?" he asked casually.</p> + +<p>Barker shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Busy to-night," he answered shortly. "Want to see him?"</p> + +<p>"No, not particularly. Only—I don't want him to hold a grudge."</p> + +<p>Barker replaced the box in the case and turned away. After lighting a cigar +Aldous went out. He was sure that Quade had not returned from the river. +Was he lying in wait for him near the cabin? The thought sent a sudden +thrill through him. In the same breath it was gone. With half a dozen men +ready to do his work, Aldous knew that Quade would not redden his own hands +or place himself in any conspicuous risk. During the next hour he visited +the places where Quade was most frequently seen. He had made up his mind to +walk over to the engineers' camp, when a small figure darted after him out +of the gloom of the trees.</p> + +<p>It was Stevens' boy.</p> + +<p>"Dad wants to see you down at the camp," he whispered excitedly. "He says +right away—an' for no one to see you. He said not to let any one see me. +I've been waiting for you to come out in the dark."</p> + +<p>"Skip back and tell him I'll come," replied Aldous quickly. "Be sure you +mind what he says—and don't let any one see you!"</p> + +<p>The boy disappeared like a rabbit. Aldous looked back, and ahead, and then +dived into the darkness after him.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later he came out on the river close to Stevens' camp. +A little nearer he saw Stevens squatted close to a smouldering fire about +which he was drying some clothes. The boy was huddled in a disconsolate +heap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretched +himself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind a +clump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right in +using caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer's +face. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than when +Aldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droop +of his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coals +of fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a moment +they stood silent.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got +something to tell you."</p> + +<p>They crouched behind the bush.</p> + +<p>"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens."</p> + +<p>The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and +gripped John Aldous by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take +offence—because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw +her up at the train. But you <i>know</i>. Is she good, or—— You know what we +think of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask."</p> + +<p>"She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and as +sweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for."</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her in +your cabin—after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quade +was here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seen +I had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me that +later. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like he +did then. I'll cut it short. He's mad—loon mad—over that girl. I played +the sympathy act, thinkin' of you—an' <i>her</i>. He hinted at some easy money. +I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to take +money most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you. +Then it come out. He made me a proposition."</p> + +<p>Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush.</p> + +<p>"Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone."</p> + +<p>Stevens bent so near that his tobacco-laden breath swept his companion's +cheek.</p> + +<p>"He said he'd replace my lost outfit if I'd put you out of the way some +time day after to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Kill me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>For a few moments there was a silence broken only by their tense breathing. +Aldous had found the packer's hand. He was gripping it hard.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, old man," he said. "And he believes you will do it?"</p> + +<p>"I told him I would—day after to-morrow—an' throw your body in the +Athabasca."</p> + +<p>"Splendid, Stevens! You've got Sherlock Holmes beat by a mile! And does he +want you to do this pretty job because I gave him a crack on the jaw?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Stevens quickly. "He knows the girl is a +stranger and alone. You've taken an interest in her. With you out of the +way, she won't be missed. Dammit, man, don't you know his system? And, if +he ever wanted anything in his life he wants her. She's turned that +poison-blood of his into fire. He raved about her here. He'll go the limit. +He'll do anything to get her. He's so crazy I believe he'd give every +dollar he's got. There's just one thing for you to do. Send the girl back +where she come from. Then you get out. As for myself—I'm goin' to +emigrate. Ain't got a dollar now, so I might as well hit for the prairies +an' get a job on a ranch. Next winter I guess me 'n the kid will trap up on +the Parsnip River."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong—clean wrong," said Aldous quietly. "When I saw your outfit +going down among the rocks I had already made up my mind to help you. What +you've told me to-night hasn't made any difference. I would have helped you +anyway, Stevens. I've got more money than I know what to do with right now. +Roper has a thirty-horse outfit for sale. Buy it to-morrow. I'll pay for +it, and you needn't consider yourself a dollar in debt. Some day I'll have +you take me on a long trip, and that will make up for it. As for the girl +and myself—we're going on to Tête Jaune to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Aldous could see the amazed packer staring at him in the gloom. "You don't +think I'm sellin' myself, do you, Aldous?" he asked huskily. "That ain't +why you're doin' this—for me 'n the kid—is it?"</p> + +<p>"I had made up my mind to do it before I saw you to-night," repeated +Aldous. "I've got lots of money, and I don't use but a little of it. It +sometimes accumulates so fast that it bothers me. Besides, I've promised to +accept payment for the outfit in trips. These mountains have got a hold on +me, Stevens. I'm going to take a good many trips before I die."</p> + +<p>"Not if you go on to Tête Jaune, you ain't," replied Stevens, biting a huge +quid from a black plug.</p> + +<p>Aldous had risen to his feet. Stevens stood up beside him.</p> + +<p>"If you go on to Tête Jaune you're a bigger fool than I was in tryin' to +swim the outfit across the river to-day," he added. "Listen!" He leaned +toward Aldous, his eyes gleaming. "In the last six months there's been +forty dead men dragged out of the Frazer between Tête Jaune an' Fort +George. You know that. The papers have called 'em accidents—the 'toll of +railroad building.' Mebby a part of it is. Mebby a half of them forty died +by accident. The other half didn't. They were sent down by Culver Rann and +Bill Quade. Once you go floatin' down the Frazer there ain't no questions +asked. Somebody sees you an' pulls you out—mebby a Breed or an Indian—an' +puts you under a little sand a bit later. If it's a white man he does +likewise. There ain't no time to investigate floaters over-particular in +the wilderness. Besides, you git so beat up in the rocks you don't look +like much of anything. I know, because I worked on the scows three months, +an' helped bury four of 'em. An' there wasn't anything, not even a scrap of +paper, in the pockets of two of 'em! Is that suspicious, or ain't it? It +don't pay to talk too much along the Frazer. Men keep their mouths shut. +But I'll tell you this: Culver Rann an' Bill Quade know a lot."</p> + +<p>"And you think I'll go in the Frazer?"</p> + +<p>"Egzactly. Quade would rather have you in there than in the Athabasca. And +then——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Stevens spat into the bush, and shrugged his shoulders. "This beautiful +lady you've taken an interest in will turn up missing, Aldous. She'll +disappear off the face of the map—just like Stimson's wife did. You +remember Stimson?"</p> + +<p>"He was found in the Frazer," said Aldous, gripping the other's arm in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"Egzactly. An' that pretty wife of his disappeared a little later. Up there +everybody's too busy to ask where other people go. Culver Rann an' Bill +Quade know what happened to Stimson, an' they know what happened to +Stimson's wife. You don't want to go to Tête Jaune. You don't want to let +<i>her</i> go. I know what I'm talking about. Because——"</p> + +<p>There fell a moment's silence. Aldous waited. Stevens spat again, and +finished in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Quade went to Tête Jaune to-night. He went on a hand-car. He's got +something he wants to tell Culver Rann that he don't dare telephone or +telegraph. An' he wants to get that something to him ahead of to-morrow's +train. Understand?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>John Aldous confessed to himself that he did not quite understand, in spite +of the effort Stevens had made to impress upon him, the importance of not +going to Tête Jaune. He was bewildered over a number of things, and felt +that he needed to be alone for a time to clear his mind. He left Stevens, +promising to return later to share a couple of blankets and a part of his +tepee, for he was determined to keep his promise to Joanne, and not return +to his own cabin, even though Quade had left Miette. He followed a moonlit +trail along the river to an abandoned surveyors' camp, knowing that he +would meet no one, and that in this direction he would have plenty of +unbroken quiet in which to get some sort of order out of the chaotic tangle +of events through which he had passed that day.</p> + +<p>Aldous had employed a certain amount of caution, but until he had talked +with Stevens he had not believed that Quade, in his twofold desire to +avenge himself and possess Joanne, would go to the extraordinary ends +predicted by the packer. His point of view was now entirely changed. He +believed Stevens. He knew the man was not excitable. He was one of the +coolest heads in the mountains. And he had abundant nerve. Thought of +Stimson and Stimson's wife had sent the hot blood through Aldous like fire. +Was Stevens right in that detail? And was Quade actually planning the same +end for him and Joanne? Why had Quade stolen on ahead to Tête Jaune? Why +had he not waited for to-morrow's train?</p> + +<p>He found himself walking swiftly along the road, where he had intended to +walk slowly—a hundred questions pounding through his brain. Suddenly a +thought came to him that stopped him in the trail, his unseeing eyes +staring down into the dark chasm of the river. After all, was it so strange +that Quade would do these things? Into his own life Joanne had come like a +wonderful dream-creature transformed into flesh and blood. He no longer +tried to evade the fact that he could not think without thinking of Joanne. +She had become a part of him. She had made him forget everything but her, +and in a few hours had sent into the dust of ruin his cynicism and +aloneness of a lifetime. If Joanne had come to him like this, making him +forget his work, filling him more and more with the thrilling desire to +fight for her, was it so very strange that a beast like Quade would +fight—in another way?</p> + +<p>He went on down the trail, his hands clenched tightly. After all, it was +not fear of Quade or of what he might attempt that filled him with +uneasiness. It was Joanne herself, her strange quest, its final outcome. +With the thought that she was seeking for the man who was her husband, a +leaden hand seemed gripping at his heart. He tried to shake it off, but it +was like a sickness. To believe that she had been the wife of another man +or that she could ever belong to any other man than himself seemed like +shutting his eyes forever to the sun. And yet she had told him. She had +belonged to another man; she might belong to him even now. She had come to +find if he was alive—or dead.</p> + +<p>And if alive? Aldous stopped again, and looked down into the dark pit +through which the river was rushing a hundred feet below him. It tore in +frothing maelstroms through a thousand rocks, filling the night with a low +thunder. To John Aldous the sound of it might have been a thousand miles +away. He did not hear. His eye saw nothing in the blackness. For a few +moments the question he had asked himself obliterated everything. If they +found Joanne's husband alive at Tête Jaune—what then? He turned back, +retracing his steps over the trail, a feeling of resentment—of hatred for +the man he had never seen—slowly taking the place of the oppressive thing +that had turned his heart sick within him. Then, in a flash, came the +memory of Joanne's words—words in which, white-faced and trembling, she +had confessed that her anxiety was not that she would find him dead, but +that <i>she would find him alive</i>. A joyous thrill shot through him as he +remembered that. Whoever this man was, whatever he might have been to her +once, or was to her now, Joanne did not want to find him alive! He laughed +softly to himself as he quickened his pace. The tense grip of his fingers +loosened. The grim, almost ghastly part of it did not occur to him—the +fact that deep in his soul he was wishing a man dead and in his grave.</p> + +<p>He did not return at once to the scenes about Quade's place, but went to +the station, three quarters of a mile farther up the track. Here, in a +casual way, he learned from the little pink-faced Cockney Englishman who +watched the office at night that Stevens had been correct in his +information. Quade had gone to Tête Jaune. Although it was eleven o'clock, +Aldous proceeded in the direction of the engineers' camp, still another +quarter of a mile deeper in the bush. He was restless. He did not feel that +he could sleep that night. The engineers' camp he expected to find in +darkness, and he was surprised when he saw a light burning brightly in +Keller's cabin.</p> + +<p>Keller was the assistant divisional engineer, and they had become good +friends. It was Keller who had set the first surveyor's line at Tête Jaune, +and it was he who had reported it as the strategic point from which to push +forward the fight against mountain and wilderness, both by river and rail. +He was, in a way, accountable for the existence of Tête Jaune just where it +did exist, and he knew more about it than any other man in the employ of +the Grand Trunk Pacific. For this reason Aldous was glad that Keller had +not gone to bed. He knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an +invitation.</p> + +<p>The engineer stood in the middle of the floor, his coat off, his fat, +stubby hands thrust into the pockets of his baggy trousers, his red face +and bald cranium shining in the lamplight. A strange fury blazed in his +eyes as he greeted his visitor. He began pacing back and forth across the +room, puffing volumes of smoke from a huge bowled German pipe as he +motioned Aldous to a chair.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Peter?"</p> + +<p>"Enough—an' be damned!" growled Peter. "If it wasn't enough do you think +I'd be out of bed at this hour of the night?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it's enough," agreed Aldous. "If it wasn't you'd be in your +little trundle over there, sleeping like a baby. I don't know of any one +who can sleep quite as sweetly as you, Peter. But what the devil <i>is</i> the +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Something that you can't make me feel funny over. You haven't heard—about +the bear?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word, Peter."</p> + +<p>Keller took his hands from his pockets and the big, bowled pipe from his +mouth.</p> + +<p>"You know what I did with that bear," he said. "More than a year ago I made +friends with her up there on the hill instead of killing her. Last summer I +got her so she'd eat out of my hands. I fed her a barrel of sugar between +July and November. We used to chum it an hour at a time, and I'd pet her +like a dog. Why, damn it, man, I thought more of that bear than I did of +any human in these regions! And she got so fond of me she didn't leave to +den up until January. This spring she came out with two cubs, an' as soon +as they could waddle she brought 'em out there on the hillside an' waited +for me. We were better chums than ever. I've got another half barrel of +sugar—lump sugar—on the way from Edmonton. An' now what do you think that +damned C.N.R. gang has done?"</p> + +<p>"They haven't shot her?"</p> + +<p>"No, they haven't shot her. I wish to God they had! They've <i>blown her +up!</i>"</p> + +<p>The little engineer subsided into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear?" he demanded. "They've blown her up! Put a stick of dynamite +under some sugar, attached a battery wire to it, an' when she was licking +up the sugar touched it off. An' I can't do anything, damn 'em! Bears ain't +protected. The government of this province calls 'em 'pests.' Murder 'em +on sight, it says. An' those fiends over there think it's a good joke on +me—an' the bear!"</p> + +<p>Keller was sweating. His fat hands were clenched, and his round, plump body +fairly shook with excitement and anger.</p> + +<p>"When I went over to-night they laughed at me—the whole bunch," he went on +thickly. "I offered to lick every man in the outfit from A to Z, an' I +ain't had a fight in twenty years. Instead of fighting like men, a dozen of +them grabbed hold of me, chucked me into a blanket, an' bounced me for +fifteen minutes straight! What do you think of <i>that</i>, Aldous? +Me—assistant divisional engineer of the G.T.P.—<i>bounced in a blanket</i>!"</p> + +<p>Peter Keller hopped from his chair and began pacing back and forth across +the room again, sucking truculently on his pipe.</p> + +<p>"If they were on our road I'd—I'd chase every man of them out of the +country. But they're not. They belong to the C.N.R. They're out of my +reach." He stopped, suddenly, in front of Aldous. "What can I do?" he +demanded.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Aldous. "You've had something like this coming to you, +Peter. I've been expecting it. All the camps for twenty miles up and down +the line know what you thought of that bear. You fired Tibbits because, as +you said, he was too thick with Quade. You told him that right before +Quade's face. Tibbits is now foreman of that grading gang over there. Two +and two make four, you know. Tibbits—Quade—the blown-up bear. Quade +doesn't miss an opportunity, no matter how small it is. Tibbits and Quade +did this to get even with you. You might report the blanket affair to the +contractors of the other road. I don't believe they would stand for it."</p> + +<p>Aldous had guessed correctly what the effect of associating Quade's name +with the affair would be. Keller was one of Quade's deadliest enemies. He +sat down close to Aldous again. His eyes burned deep back. It was not +Keller's physique, but his brain, and the fearlessness of his spirit, that +made him dangerous.</p> + +<p>"I guess you're right, Aldous," he said. "Some day—I'll even up on Quade."</p> + +<p>"And so shall I, Peter."</p> + +<p>The engineer stared into the other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"You——"</p> + +<p>Aldous nodded.</p> + +<p>"Quade left for Tête Jaune to-night, on a hand-car. I follow him to-morrow, +on the train. I can't tell you what's up, Peter, but I don't think it will +stop this side of death for Quade and Culver Rann—or me. I mean that quite +literally. I don't see how more than one side can come out alive. I want to +ask you a few questions before I go on to Tête Jaune. You know every +mountain and trail about the place, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I've tramped them all, afoot and horseback."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you can direct me to what I must find—a man's grave."</p> + +<p>Peter Keller paused in the act of relighting his pipe. For a moment he +stared in amazement.</p> + +<p>"There are a great many graves up at Tête Jaune," he said, at last. "A +great many graves—and many of them unmarked. If it's a <i>Quade</i> grave +you're looking for, Aldous, it will be unmarked."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure that it is marked—or <i>was</i> at one time," said Aldous. +"It's the grave of a man who had quite an unusual name, Peter, and you +might remember it—Mortimer FitzHugh."</p> + +<p>"FitzHugh—FitzHugh," repeated Keller, puffing out fresh volumes of smoke. +"Mortimer FitzHugh——"</p> + +<p>"He died, I believe, before there was a Tête Jaune, or at least before the +steel reached there," added Aldous. "He was on a hunting trip, and I have +reason to think that his death was a violent one."</p> + +<p>Keller rose and fell into his old habit of pacing back and forth across the +room, a habit that had worn a path in the bare pine boards of the floor.</p> + +<p>"There's graves an' graves up there, but not so many that were there before +Tête Jaune came," he began, between puffs. "Up on the side of White Knob +Mountain there's the grave of a man who was torn to bits by a grizzly. But +his name was Humphrey. Old Yellowhead John—Tête Jaune, they called +him—died years before that, and no one knows where his grave is. We had +five men die before the steel came, but there wasn't a FitzHugh among 'em. +Crabby—old Crabby Tompkins, a trapper, is buried in the sand on the +Frazer. The last flood swept his slab away. There's two unmarked graves in +Glacier Canyon, but I guess they're ten years old if a day. Burns was shot. +I knew him. Plenty died after the steel came, but before that——"</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped. He faced Aldous. His breath came in quick jerks.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, I do remember!" he cried. "There's a mountain in the Saw Tooth +Range, twelve miles from Tête Jaune—a mountain with the prettiest basin +you ever saw at the foot of it, with a lake no bigger than this camp, and +an old cabin which Yellowhead himself must have built fifty years ago. +There's a blind canyon runs out of it, short an' dark, on the right. We +found a grave there. I don't remember the first name on the slab. Mebby it +was washed out. But, so 'elp me God, <i>the last name was FitzHugh</i>!"</p> + +<p>With a sudden cry, Aldous jumped to his feet and caught Keller's arm.</p> + +<p>"You're sure of it, Peter?"</p> + +<p>"Positive!"</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Aldous to repress his excitement. The engineer stared +at him even harder than before.</p> + +<p>"What can that grave have to do with Quade?" he asked. "The man died before +Quade was known in these regions."</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you now, Peter," replied Aldous, pulling the engineer to the +table. "But I think you'll know quite soon. For the present, I want you to +sketch out a map that will take me to the grave. Will you?"</p> + +<p>On the table were pencil and paper. Keller seated himself and drew them +toward him.</p> + +<p>"I'm damned if I can see what that grave can have to do with Quade," he +said; "but I'll tell you how to find it!"</p> + +<p>For several minutes they bent low over the table, Peter Keller describing +the trail to the Saw Tooth Mountain as he sketched it, step by step, on a +sheet of office paper. When it was done, Aldous folded it carefully and +placed it in his wallet.</p> + +<p>"I can't go wrong, and—thank you, Keller!"</p> + +<p>After Aldous had gone, Peter Keller sat for some time in deep thought.</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder what the devil there can be about a grave to make him so +happy," he grumbled, listening to the whistle that was growing fainter down +the trail.</p> + +<p>And Aldous, alone, with the moon straight above him as he went back to the +Miette Plain, felt, in truth, this night had become brighter for him than +any day he had ever known. For he knew that Peter Keller was not a man to +make a statement of which he was not sure. Mortimer FitzHugh was dead. His +bones lay under the slab up in that little blind canyon in the shadow of +the Saw Tooth Mountain. To-morrow he would tell Joanne. And, blindly, he +told himself that she would be glad.</p> + +<p>Still whistling, he passed the Chinese laundry shack on the creek, crossed +the railroad tracks, and buried himself in the bush beyond. A quarter of an +hour later he stole quietly into Stevens' camp and went to bed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a><h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> + +<p>Stevens, dreaming of twenty horses plunging to death among the rocks in the +river, slept uneasily. He awoke before it was dawn, but when he dragged +himself from his tepee, moving quietly not to awaken his boy, he found John +Aldous on his knees before a small fire, slicing thin rashers of bacon into +a frying-pan. The weight of his loss was in the tired packer's eyes and +face and the listless droop of his shoulders. John Aldous, with three hours +between the blankets to his credit, was as cheery as the crackling fire +itself. He had wanted to whistle for the last half-hour. Seeing Stevens, he +began now.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't going to rouse you until breakfast was ready," he interrupted +himself to say. "I heard you groaning, Stevens. I know you had a bad night. +And the kid, too. He couldn't sleep. But I made up my mind you'd have to +get up early. I've got a lot of business on to-day, and we'll have to rouse +Curly Roper out of bed to buy his pack outfit. Find the coffee, will you? I +couldn't."</p> + +<p>For a moment Stevens stood over him.</p> + +<p>"See here, Aldous, you didn't mean what you said last night, did you? You +didn't mean—that?"</p> + +<p>"Confound it, yes! Can't you understand plain English, Stevens? Don't you +believe a man when he's a gentleman? Buy that outfit! Why, I'd buy twenty +outfits to-day, I'm—I'm feeling so fine, Stevens!"</p> + +<p>For the first time in forty-eight hours Stevens smiled.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering if I hadn't been dreaming," he said. "Once, a long time +ago, I guess I felt just like you do now."</p> + +<p>With which cryptic remark he went for the coffee.</p> + +<p>Aldous looked up in time to see the boy stagger sleepily out of the tepee. +There was something pathetic about the motherlessness of the picture, and +he understood a little of what Stevens had meant.</p> + +<p>An hour later, with breakfast over, they started for Curly's. Curly was +pulling on his boots when they arrived, while his wife was frying the +inevitable bacon in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"I hear you have some horses for sale, Curly," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Hi 'ave."</p> + +<p>"How many?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-nine, 'r twenty-eight—mebby twenty-seven."</p> + +<p>"How much?"</p> + +<p>Curly looked up from the task of pulling on his second boot.</p> + +<p>"H'are you buying 'orses or looking for hinformation?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm buying, and I'm in a hurry. How much do you want a head?"</p> + +<p>"Sixty, 'r six——"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you sixty dollars apiece for twenty-eight head, and that's just +ten dollars apiece more than they're worth," broke in Aldous, pulling a +check-book and a fountain pen from his pocket. "Is it a go?"</p> + +<p>A little stupefied by the suddenness of it all, Curly opened his mouth and +stared.</p> + +<p>"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles, +ropes, and canvases?"</p> + +<p>Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detect +anything that looked like a joke.</p> + +<p>"Hit's a go," he said.</p> + +<p>Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars.</p> + +<p>"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, but +they're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only with +your agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will you +agree to that?"</p> + +<p>Curly was joyously looking at the check.</p> + +<p>"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I give +you the word of a Hinglish gentleman!"</p> + +<p>Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leaving +Stevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody called +Curly, because he had no hair.</p> + +<p>Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired into +the condition that was holding back the Tête Jaune train. He found that a +slide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. A +hundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they would +finish by noon. A gang boss, who had come back with telegraphic reports, +said that half a dozen men had carried Quade's hand-car over the +obstruction about midnight.</p> + +<p>It was seven o'clock when Aldous left for the Miette bottom. He believed +that Joanne would be up. At this season of the year the first glow of day +usually found the Ottos at breakfast, and for half an hour the sun had been +shining on the top of Pyramid Mountain. He was eager to tell her what had +passed between him and Keller. He laughed softly when he confessed to +himself how madly he wanted to see her.</p> + +<p>He always liked to come up to the Otto home very early of a morning, or in +the dusk of evening. Very frequently he was filled with a desire to stand +outside the red-and-white striped walls of the tent-house and listen +unseen. Inside there was always cheer: at night the crackle of fire and the +glow of light, the happy laughter of the gentle-hearted Scotchwoman, and +the affectionate banter of her "big mountain man," who looked more like a +brigand than the luckiest and most contented husband in the mountains—the +luckiest, quite surely, with the one exception of his brother Clossen, who +had, by some occult strategy or other, induced a sweet-faced and +aristocratic little woman to look upon his own honest physiognomy as the +handsomest and finest in the world. This morning Aldous followed a narrow +path that brought him behind the tent-house. He heard no voices. A few +steps more and he emerged upon a scene that stopped him and set his heart +thumping.</p> + +<p>Less than a dozen paces away stood Mrs. Otto and Joanne, their backs toward +him. They were gazing silently and anxiously in the direction of the thick, +low bush across the clearing, through which led the trail to his cabin. He +did not look toward the bush. His eyes were upon Joanne. Her slender figure +was full in the golden radiance of the morning sun, and Aldous felt himself +under the spell of a joyous wonder as he looked at her. For the first time +he saw her hair as he had pictured it—as he had given it to that other +<i>Joanne</i> in the book he had called "Fair Play." She had been brushing it in +the sun when he came, but now she stood poised in that tense and waiting +attitude—silent—gazing in the direction of the bush, with that marvellous +mantle sweeping about her in a shimmering silken flood. He would not have +moved, nor would he have spoken, until Joanne herself broke the spell. She +turned, and saw him. With a little cry of surprise she flung back her hair. +He could not fail to see the swift look of relief and gladness that had +come into her eyes. In another instant her face was flushing crimson.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper," he apologized. "I +thought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto."</p> + +<p>The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Goodness gracious, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed thankfully. +"Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your dead +body!"</p> + +<p>"We thought perhaps something might have happened," said Joanne, who had +moved nearer the door. "You will excuse me, won't you, while I finish my +hair?"</p> + +<p>Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent. No sooner had she +disappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto's face. There was a +note of alarm in her low voice as she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me. She +tried to be quiet, but I know she didn't sleep much. And she cried. I +couldn't hear her, but the pillow was wet. Once my hand touched her cheek, +and it was wet. I didn't ask any questions. This morning, at breakfast, she +told us everything that happened, all about Quade—and your trouble. She +told us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervous +thinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dear +couldn't even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt for +you. But I don't think that was why she cried!"</p> + +<p>"I wish it had been," said Aldous. "It makes me happy to think she was +worried about—me."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" gasped Mrs. Otto.</p> + +<p>He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding in +her kind eyes.</p> + +<p>"You will keep my little secret, won't you, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "Probably +you'll think it's queer. I've only known her a day. But I feel—like that. +Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or a +sister. I want you to understand why I'm going on to Tête Jaune with her. +That is why she was crying—because of the dread of something up there. I'm +going with her. She shouldn't go alone."</p> + +<p>Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Otto +had come out of the bush and were quite near. Aldous was sorry that Joanne +had spoken of his trouble with Quade. He did not want to discuss the +situation, or waste time in listening to further advice. He was anxious to +be alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from Peter +Keller. For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness. The brothers then +went on to their corral. A few minutes later Joanne was once more at his +side, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin on +the river.</p> + +<p>He could see that the night had made a change in her. There were circles +under her eyes which were not there yesterday. When she looked at him their +velvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was struggling +desperately to keep from him. It was not altogether fear. It was more a +betrayal of pain—a torment of the soul and not of the body. He noticed +that in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangely +pale. The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him was +gone.</p> + +<p>Then he began to tell her of his visit to Peter Keller. His own heart was +beating violently when he came to speak of the grave and the slab over it +that bore the name of FitzHugh. He had expected that what he had discovered +from Keller would create some sort of a sensation. He had even come up to +the final fact gradually, so that it would not appear bald and shocking. +Joanne's attitude stunned him. She looked straight ahead. When she turned +to him he did not see in her eyes what he had expected to see. They were +quiet, emotionless, except for that shadow of inward torture which did not +leave them.</p> + +<p>"Then to-morrow we can go to the grave?" she asked simply.</p> + +<p>Her voice, too, was quiet and without emotion.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "We can leave at sunrise," he said. "I have my own horses at +Tête Jaune and there need be no delay. We were to start into the North from +there."</p> + +<p>"You mean on the adventure you were telling me about?"</p> + +<p>She had looked at him quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Old Donald, my partner, has been waiting for me a week. That's why I +was so deuced anxious to rush the book to an end. I'm behind Donald's +schedule, and he's growing nervous. It's rather an unusual enterprise +that's taking us north this time, and Donald can't understand why I should +hang back to write the tail end of a book. He has lived sixty years in the +mountains. His full name is Donald MacDonald. Sometimes, back in my own +mind, I've called him History. He seems like that—as though he'd lived for +ages in these mountains instead of sixty years. If I could only write what +he has lived—even what one might imagine that he has lived! But I cannot. +I have tried three times, and have failed. I think of him as The Last +Spirit—a strange wandering ghost of the mighty ranges. His kind passed +away a hundred years ago. You will understand—when you see him."</p> + +<p>She put her hand on his arm and let it rest there lightly as they walked. +Into her eyes had returned some of the old warm glow of yesterday.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me about this adventure," she entreated softly. "I +understand—about the other. You have been good—oh! so good to me! And I +should tell you things; you are expecting me to explain. It is only fair +and honest that I should. I know what is in your mind, and I only want you +to wait—until to-morrow. Will you? And I will tell you then, when we have +found the grave."</p> + +<p>Involuntarily his hand sought Joanne's. For a single moment he felt the +warm, sweet thrill of it in his own as he pressed it more closely to his +arm. Then he freed it, looking straight ahead. A soft flush grew in +Joanne's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Do you care a great deal for riches?" he asked. "Does the golden pot at +the end of the rainbow hold out a lure for you?" He did not realize the +strangeness of his question until their eyes met. "Because if you don't," +he added, smiling, "this adventure of ours isn't going to look very +exciting to you."</p> + +<p>She laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't care for riches," she replied. "I am quite sure that just as +great education proves to one how little one knows, so great wealth brings +one face to face with the truth of how little one can enjoy. My father used +to say that the golden treasure at the end of the rainbow in every human +life was happiness, and that is something which you cannot buy. So why +crave riches, then? But please don't let my foolish ideas disappoint you. +I'll promise to be properly excited."</p> + +<p>She saw his face suddenly aflame with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"By George, but you're a—a brick, Joanne!" he exclaimed. "You are! And +I—I——" He was fumbling in his breast pocket. He brought out his wallet +and extracted from it the bit of paper Stevens had given him. "You dropped +that, and Stevens found it," he explained, giving it to her. "I thought +those figures might represent your fortune—or your income. Don't mind +telling you I went over 'em carefully. There's a mistake in the third +column. Five and four don't make seven. They make nine. In the final, when +you come to the multiplication part of it, that correction will make you +just thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars richer."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Joanne, lowering her eyes, and beginning to tear the paper +into small pieces. "And will it disappoint you, Mr. John Aldous, if I tell +you that all these figures stand for riches which some one else possesses? +And won't you let me remind you that we're getting a long way from what I +want to know—about your trip into the North?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it: we're hot on the trail," chuckled Aldous, deliberately +placing her hand on his arm again. "You don't care for riches. Neither do +I. I'm delighted to know we're going tandem in that respect. I've never had +any fun with money. It's the money that's had fun with me. I've no use for +yachts and diamonds and I'd rather travel afoot with a gun over my shoulder +than in a private car. Half the time I'm doing my own cooking, and I +haven't worn a white shirt in a year. My publishers persist in shoving more +money my way than I know what to do with.</p> + +<p>"You see, I pay only ten cents a plug for my smoking tobacco, and other +things accordingly. Somebody has said something about the good Lord sitting +up in Heaven and laughing at the jokes He plays on men. Well, I'm sitting +back and laughing now and then at the tussle between men and money over all +creation. There's a whole lot of humour in the way men and women fight and +die for money, if you only take time to stand out on the side and look on. +There's nothing big or dramatic about it. I may be a heathen, but to my +mind the funniest of all things is to see the world wringing its neck for a +dollar. And Donald—old History—needs even less money than I. So that puts +the big element of humour in this expedition of ours. We don't want money, +particularly. Donald wouldn't wear more than four pairs of boots a year if +he was a billionaire. And yet——"</p> + +<p>He turned to Joanne. The pressure of her hand was warmer on his arm. Her +beautiful eyes were glowing, and her red lips parted as she waited +breathlessly for him to go on.</p> + +<p>"And yet, we're going to a place where you can scoop gold up with a +shovel," he finished. "That's the funny part of it."</p> + +<p>"It isn't funny—it's tremendous!" gasped Joanne. "Think of what a man like +you could do with unlimited wealth, the good you might achieve, the +splendid endowments you might make——"</p> + +<p>"I have already made several endowments," interrupted Aldous. "I believe +that I have made a great many people happy, Ladygray—a great many. I am +gifted to make endowments, I think, above most people. Not one of the +endowments I have made has failed of complete success."</p> + +<p>"And may I ask what some of them were?"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember them all. There have been a great, great many. Most +conspicuous among them were three endowments which I made to some very +worthy people at various times for seven salted mines. I suppose you know +what a salted mine is, Ladygray? At other times I have endowed railroad +stocks which were very much in need of my helping mite, two copper +companies, a concern that was supposed to hoist up pure asbestos from the +stomach of Popocatapetl, and a steamship company that never steamed. As I +said before, they were all very successful endowments."</p> + +<p>"And how many of the other kind have you made?" she asked gently, looking +down the trail. "Like—Stevens', for instance?"</p> + +<p>He turned to her sharply.</p> + +<p>"What the deuce——"</p> + +<p>"Did you succeed in getting the new outfit from Mr. Curly?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. How did you know?"</p> + +<p>She smiled at the amazement which had gathered in his face. A glad, soft +light shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I guess Mrs. Otto has been like a mother to that poor little boy," she +explained. "When you and Mr. Stevens went up to buy the outfit this morning +Jimmy ran over to tell her the news. We were all there—at breakfast. He +was so excited he could scarcely breathe. But it all came out, and he ran +back to camp before you came because he thought you wouldn't want me to +know. Wasn't that funny? He told me so when I walked a little way up the +path with him."</p> + +<p>"The little reprobate!" chuckled Aldous. "He's the best publicity man I +ever had, Ladygray. I did want you to know about this, and I wanted it to +come to you in just this way, so that I wouldn't be compelled to tell you +myself of the big and noble act I have done. It was my hope and desire that +you, through some one else, would learn of it, and come to understand more +fully what a generous and splendid biped I am. I even plotted to give this +child of Stevens' a silver dollar if he would get the news to you in some +one of his innocent ways. He's done it. And he couldn't have done it +better—even for a dollar. Ah, here we are at the cabin. Will you excuse +me while I pick up a few things that I want to take on to Tête Jaune with +me?"</p> + +<p>Between two trees close to the cabin he had built a seat, and here he left +Joanne. He was gone scarcely five minutes when he reappeared with a small +pack-sack over his shoulders, locked the door, and rejoined her.</p> + +<p>"You see it isn't much of a task for me to move," he said, as they turned +back in the direction of the Ottos'. "I'll wash the dishes when I come back +next October."</p> + +<p>"Five months!" gasped Joanne, counting on her fingers. "John Aldous, do you +mean——"</p> + +<p>"I do," he nodded emphatically. "I frequently leave dishes unwashed for +quite a spell at a time. That's the one unpleasant thing about this sort of +life—washing dishes. It's not so bad in the rainy season, but it's fierce +during a dry spell. When it rains I put the dishes out on a flat rock, +dirty side up, and the good Lord does the scrubbing."</p> + +<p>He looked at Joanne, face and eyes aglow with the happiness that was +sweeping in a mighty tumult within him. Half an hour had worked a +transformation in Joanne. There was no longer a trace of anguish or of fear +in her eyes. Their purity and limpid beauty made him think of the rock +violets that grew high up on the mountains. Her lips and cheeks were +flushed, and the soft pressure of her hand again resting on his arm filled +him with the exquisite thrill of possession and joy. He did not speak of +Tête Jaune again until they reached the Otto tent-house, and then only to +assure her that he would call for her half an hour before the train was +ready to leave.</p> + +<p>As soon as possible after that he went to the telegraph office and sent a +long message to MacDonald. Among other things he told him to prepare their +cabin for a lady guest. He knew this would shock the old mountain wanderer, +but he also knew that Donald would follow his instructions in spite of +whatever alarm he might have. There were other women at Tête Jaune, the +wives of men he knew, to whom he might have taken Joanne. Under the +conditions, however, he believed his own cabin would be her best refuge, at +least for a day or so. In that time he could take some one into his +confidence, probably Blackton and his wife. In fact, as he thought the +circumstances over, he saw the necessity of confiding in the Blacktons that +very night.</p> + +<p>He left the station, growing a bit nervous. Was it right for him to take +Joanne to his cabin at all? He had a tremendous desire to do so, chiefly on +account of Quade. The cabin was a quarter of a mile in the bush, and he was +positive if Joanne was there that Quade, and perhaps Culver Rann, would +come nosing about. This would give him the opportunity of putting into +execution a plan which he had already arranged for himself and old +MacDonald. On the other hand, was this arrangement fair to Joanne, even +though it gave him the chance to square up accounts with Quade?</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, and faced the station. All at once there swept upon +him a realization of how blind he had been, and what a fool he had almost +made of himself. Blackton was one of the contractors who were working +miracles in the mountains. He was a friend who would fight for him if +necessary. Mrs. Blackton, who preferred to be on the firing line with her +husband than in her luxurious city home, was the leader of all that was +decent and womanly in Tête Jaune. Why not have these friends meet them at +the train and take Joanne direct to their house? Such recognition and +friendship would mean everything to Joanne. To take her to his cabin would +mean——</p> + +<p>Inwardly he swore at himself as he hurried back to the station, and his +face burned hotly as he thought of the chance such a blunder on his part +would have given Quade and Culver Rann to circulate the stories with which +they largely played their scoundrelly game. He sent another and longer +telegram. This time it was to Blackton.</p> + +<p>He ate dinner with Stevens, who had his new outfit ready for the mountains. +It was two o'clock before he brought Joanne up to the station. She was +dressed now as he had first seen her when she entered Quade's place. A veil +covered her face. Through the gray film of it he caught the soft warm glow +of her eyes and the shimmer of gold-brown tendrils of her hair. And he knew +why she wore that veil. It set his heart beating swiftly—the fact that she +was trying to hide from all eyes but his own a beauty so pure and wonderful +that it made her uncomfortable when under the staring gaze of the Horde.</p> + +<p>The hand that rested on his arm he pressed closer to his side as they +walked up the station platform, and under his breath he laughed softly and +joyously as he felt the thrill of it. He spoke no word. Not until they were +in their seat in the coach did Joanne look at him after that pressure of +her hand, and then she did not speak. But in the veiled glow of her eyes +there was something that told him she understood—a light that was +wonderfully gentle and sweet. And yet, without words, she asked him to +keep within his soul the things that were pounding madly there for speech.</p> + +<p>As the train rolled on and the babble of voices about them joined the +crunching rumble of the wheels, he wanted to lean close to her and tell her +how a few hours had changed the world for him. And then, for a moment, her +eyes turned to him again, and he knew that it would be a sacrilege to give +voice to the things he wanted to say. For many minutes he was silent, +gazing with her upon the wild panorama of mountain beauty as it drifted +past the car window. A loud voice two seats ahead of them proclaimed that +they were about to make Templeton's Curve. The man was talking to his +companion.</p> + +<p>"They shot up a hundred thousand pounds of black powder an' dynamite to +make way for two hundred feet of steel on that curve," he explained in a +voice heard all over the car. "They say you could hear the explosion fifty +miles away. Jack Templeton was near-sighted, an' he didn't see a rock +coming down on him that was half as big as a house. I helped scrape up what +was left of 'im an' we planted him at this end of the curve. It's been +Templeton's Curve ever since. You'll see his grave—with a slab over it!"</p> + +<p>It was there almost as he spoke, marked by a white-painted cross in a +circle of whitewashed stones. John Aldous felt a sudden shiver pass through +his companion. She turned from the window. Through her veil he saw her lips +tighten. Until he left the car half an hour later the man in the second +seat ahead talked of Templeton's grave and a dozen other graves along the +right of way. He was a rock-hog, and a specialist on the subject of +graves. Inwardly Aldous cursed him roundly. He cursed him all the way to +Tête Jaune, for to him he attributed the change which had again come over +Joanne.</p> + +<p>This change she could only partly conceal from him under her veil. She +asked him many questions about Tête Jaune and the Blacktons, and tried to +take an interest in the scenery they were passing. In spite of this he +could see that she was becoming more and more nervous as they progressed +toward the end of their journey. He felt the slow dampening of his own joy, +the deadening clutch of yesterday at his heart. Twice she lifted her veil +for a moment and he saw she was pale and the tense lines had gathered about +her mouth again. There was something almost haggard in her look the second +time.</p> + +<p>In the early dusk of evening they arrived at Tête Jaune. Aldous waited +until the car had emptied itself before he rose from his seat. Joanne's +hand clutched at his arm as they walked down the aisle. He felt the fierce +pressure of her fingers in his flesh. On the car platform they paused for a +moment, and he felt her throbbing beside him. She had taken her hand from +his arm, and he turned suddenly. She had raised her veil. Her face was dead +white. And she was staring out over the sea of faces under them in a +strange questing way, and her breath came from between her slightly parted +lips as if she had been running. Amazed for the moment, John Aldous did not +move. Somewhere in that crowd <i>Joanne expected to find a face she knew!</i> +The truth struck him dumb—made him inert and lifeless. He, too, stared as +if in a trance. And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazed +into fierce life.</p> + +<p>In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces of +all were turned toward them. One he recognized—a bloated, leering face +grinning devilishly at them. It was Quade!</p> + +<p>A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too, +had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for. It was not his +face that she had expected to see nor because of him that she had lifted +her veil for the mob!</p> + +<p>He stepped down from the car and gave her his hand. Her fingers clutched +his convulsively. And they were cold as the fingers of the dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_X"></a><h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br> + +<p>A moment later some one came surging through the crowd, and called Aldous +by name. It was Blackton. His thin, genial face with its little spiked +moustache rose above the sea of heads about him, and as he came he grinned +a welcome.</p> + +<p>"A beastly mob!" he exclaimed, as he gripped his friend's hand. "I'm sorry +I couldn't bring my wife nearer than the back platform."</p> + +<p>Aldous turned to Joanne. He was still half in a daze. His heart was choking +him with its swift and excited beating. Even as he introduced her to +Blackton the voice kept crying in his brain that she had expected to find +some one in this crowd whom she knew. For a space it was as if the Joanne +whom he had known had slipped away from him. She had told him about the +grave, but this other she had kept from him. Something that was almost +anger surged up in him. His face bore marks of the strain as he watched her +greet Blackton. In an instant, it seemed to him, she had regained a part of +her composure. Blackton saw nothing but the haggard lines about her eyes +and the deep pallor in her face, which he ascribed to fatigue.</p> + +<p>"You're tired, Miss Gray," he said. "It's a killing ride up from Miette +these days. If we can get through this mob we'll have supper within fifteen +minutes!"</p> + +<p>With a word to Aldous he began worming his long, lean body ahead of them. +An instant Joanne's face was very close to Aldous', so close that he felt +her breath, and a tendril of her hair touched his lips. In that instant her +eyes looked into his steadily, and he felt rush over him a sudden shame. If +she was seeking and expecting, it was to him more than ever that she was +now looking for protection. The haunting trouble in her eyes, their +entreaty, their shining faith in him told him that, and he was glad that +she had not seen his sudden fear and suspicion. She clung more closely to +him as they followed Blackton. Her little fingers held his arm as if she +were afraid some force might tear him from her. He saw that she was looking +quickly at the faces about them with that same questing mystery in her +search.</p> + +<p>At the thin outer edge of the crowd Blackton dropped back beside them. A +few steps more and they came to the end of the platform, where a buckboard +was waiting in the dim light of one of the station lamps. Blackton +introduced Joanne, and assisted her into the seat beside his wife.</p> + +<p>"We'll leave you ladies to become acquainted while we rustle the baggage," +he said. "Got the checks, Aldous?"</p> + +<p>Joanne had given Aldous two checks on the train, and he handed them to +Blackton. Together they made their way to the baggage-room.</p> + +<p>"Thought Miss Gray would have some luggage, so I had one of my men come +with another team," he explained. "We won't have to wait. I'll give him the +checks."</p> + +<p>Before they returned to the buckboard, Aldous halted his friend.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say much in that telegram," he said. "If Miss Gray wasn't a +bit tired and unstrung I'd let her explain. I want you to tell Mrs. +Blackton that she has come to Tête Jaune on a rather unpleasant mission, +old man. Nothing less than to attend to the grave of a—a near relative."</p> + +<p>"I regret that—I regret it very much," replied Blackton, flinging away the +match he had lighted without touching it to his cigar. "I guessed something +was wrong. She's welcome at our place, Aldous—for as long as she remains +in Tête Jaune. Perhaps I knew this relative. If I can assist you—or +her——"</p> + +<p>"He died before the steel came," said Aldous. "FitzHugh was his name. Old +Donald and I are going to take her to the grave. Miss Gray is an old friend +of mine," he lied boldly. "We want to start at dawn. Will that be too much +trouble for you and your wife?"</p> + +<p>"No trouble at all," declared Blackton. "We've got a Chinese cook who's +more like an owl than a human. How will a four o'clock breakfast suit you?"</p> + +<p>"Splendidly!"</p> + +<p>As they went on, the contractor said:</p> + +<p>"I carried your word to MacDonald. Hunted him down out in the bush. He is +very anxious to see you. He said he would not be at the depot, but that you +must not fail him. He's kept strangely under cover of late. Curious old +ghost, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"The strangest man in the mountains," said Aldous "And, when you come to +know him, the most lovable. We're going North together."</p> + +<p>This time it was Blackton who stopped, with a hand on his companion's arm. +A short distance from them they could see the buckboard in the light of +the station lamp.</p> + +<p>"Has old Donald written you lately?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No. He says he hasn't written a letter in twenty years."</p> + +<p>Blackton hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Then you haven't heard of his—accident?"</p> + +<p>The strange look in the contractor's face as he lighted a cigar made John +Aldous catch him sharply by the arm.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"He was shot. I happened to be in Dr. Brady's office when he dragged +himself in, late at night. Doc got the bullet out of his shoulder. It +wasn't a bad wound. The old man swore it was an accident, and asked us to +say nothing about it. We haven't. But I've been wondering. Old Donald said +he was careless with his own pistol. But the fact is, Aldous—<i>he was shot +from behind!</i>"</p> + +<p>"The deuce you say!"</p> + +<p>"There was no perforation except from <i>behind</i>. In some way the bullet had +spent itself before it reached him. Otherwise it would have killed him."</p> + +<p>For a moment Aldous stared in speechless amazement into Blackton's face.</p> + +<p>"When did this happen?" he asked then.</p> + +<p>"Three days ago. Since then I have not seen old Donald until to-night. +Almost by accident I met him out there in the timber. I delivered the +telegram you sent him. After he had read it I showed him mine. He scribbled +something on a bit of paper, folded it, and pinned it with a porcupine +quill. I've been mighty curious, but I haven't pulled out that quill. Here +it is."</p> + +<p>From his pocket he produced the note and gave it to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I'll read it a little later," said Aldous. "The ladies may possibly become +anxious about us."</p> + +<p>He dropped it in his pocket as he thanked Blackton for the trouble he had +taken in finding MacDonald. As he climbed into the front seat of the +buckboard his eyes met Joanne's. He was glad that in a large measure she +had recovered her self-possession. She smiled at him as they drove off, and +there was something in the sweet tremble of her lips that made him almost +fancy she was asking his forgiveness for having forgotten herself. Her +voice sounded more natural to him as she spoke to Mrs. Blackton. The +latter, a plump little blue-eyed woman with dimples and golden hair, was +already making her feel at home. She leaned over and placed a hand on her +husband's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Let's drive home by way of town, Paul," she suggested. "It's only a little +farther, and I'm quite sure Miss Gray will be interested in our Great White +Way of the mountains. And I'm crazy to see that bear you were telling me +about," she added.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have suited Aldous more than this suggestion. He was sure +that Quade, following his own and Culver Rann's old methods, had already +prepared stories about Joanne, and he not only wanted Quade's friends—but +all of Tête Jaune as well—to see Joanne in the company of Mrs. Paul +Blackton and her husband. And this was a splendid opportunity, for the +night carnival was already beginning.</p> + +<p>"The bear is worth seeing," said Blackton, turning his team in the +direction of the blazing light of the half-mile street that was the +Broadway of Tête Jaune. "And the woman who rides him is worth seeing, too," +he chuckled. "He's a big fellow—and she plays the Godiva act. Rides him up +and down the street with her hair down, collecting dimes and quarters and +half dollars as she goes."</p> + +<p>A minute later the length of the street swept out ahead of them. It is +probable that the world had never before seen a street just like this +Broadway in Tête Jaune—the pleasure Mecca of five thousand workers along +the line of steel. There had been great "camps" in the building of other +railroads, but never a city in the wilderness like this—a place that had +sprung up like magic and which, a few months later, was doomed to disappear +as quickly. For half a mile it blazed out ahead of them, two garishly +lighted rows of shacks, big tents, log buildings, and rough board +structures, with a rough, wide street between.</p> + +<p>To-night Tête Jaune was like a blazing fire against the darkness of the +forest and mountain beyond. A hundred sputtering "jacks" sent up columns of +yellow flame in front of places already filled with the riot and tumult of +the night. A thousand lamps and coloured lanterns flashed like fireflies +along the way, and under them the crowd had gathered, and was flowing back +and forth. It was a weird and fantastic sight—this one strange and almost +uncanny street that was there largely for the play and the excitement of +men.</p> + +<p>Aldous turned to Joanne. He knew what this town meant. It was the first and +the last of its kind, and its history would never be written. The world +outside the mountains knew nothing of it. Like the men who made up its +transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past. Even the +mountains would forget it. But more than once, as he had stood a part of +it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the +things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden +tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy. He found something of +his own thought in Joanne's eyes.</p> + +<p>"There isn't much to it," he said, "but to-night, if you made the hunt, you +could find men of eighteen or twenty nationalities in that street."</p> + +<p>"And a little more besides," laughed Blackton. "If you could write the +complete story of how Tête Jaune has broken the law, Aldous, it would fill +a volume as big as Peggy's family Bible!"</p> + +<p>"And after all, it's funny," said Peggy Blackton. "There!" she cried +suddenly. "Isn't <i>that</i> funny?"</p> + +<p>The glare and noisy life were on both sides of them now. Half a dozen +phonographs were going. From up the street came the softer strains of a +piano, and from in between the shrieking notes of bagpipe. Peggy Blackton +was pointing to a brilliantly lighted, black-tarpaulined shop. Huge white +letters on its front announced that Lady Barbers were within. They could +see two of them at work through the big window. And they were pretty. The +place was crowded with men. Men were waiting outside.</p> + +<p>"Paul says they charge a dollar for a haircut and fifty cents for a shave," +explained Peggy Blackton. "And the man over there across the street is +going broke because he can't get business at fifteen cents a shave. <i>Isn't</i> +it funny?"</p> + +<p>As they went on Aldous searched the street for Quade. Several times he +turned to the back seat, and always he found Joanne's eyes questing in that +strange way for the some one whom she expected to see. Mrs. Blackton was +pointing out lighted places, and explaining things as they passed, but he +knew that in spite of her apparent attention Joanne heard only a part of +what she was saying. In that crowd she hoped—or feared—to find a certain +face. And again Aldous told himself that it was not Quade's face.</p> + +<p>Near the end of the street a crowd was gathering, and here, for a moment, +Blackton stopped his team within fifty feet of the objects of attraction. A +slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was standing beside a +huge brown bear. Her sleek black hair, shining as if it had been oiled, +fell in curls about her shoulders. Her rouged lips were smiling. Even at +that distance her black eyes sparkled like diamonds. She had evidently just +finished taking up a collection, for she was fastening the cord of a silken +purse about her neck. In another moment she bestrode the bear, the crowd +fell apart, and as the onlookers broke into a roar of applause the big +beast lumbered slowly up the street with its rider.</p> + +<p>"One of Culver Rann's friends," said Blackton <i>sotto voce</i>, as he drove on. +"She takes in a hundred a night if she makes a cent!"</p> + +<a name="image-3"><!-- Image 3 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/003.jpg" height="451" width="300" +alt="A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider."> +</center> + +<h5>A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider.</h5> + + +<p>Blackton's big log bungalow was close to the engineers' camp half a mile +distant from the one lighted street and the hundreds of tents and shacks +that made up the residential part of the town. Not until they were inside, +and Peggy Blackton had disappeared with Joanne for a few moments, did +Aldous take old Donald MacDonald's note from his pocket. He pulled out the +quill, unfolded the bit of paper, and read the few crudely written words +the mountain man had sent him. Blackton turned in time to catch the sudden +amazement in his face. Crushing the note in his hand, Aldous looked at the +other, his mouth tightening.</p> + +<p>"You must help me make excuses, old man," he said quietly. "It will seem +strange to them if I do not stay for supper. But—it is impossible. I must +see old Donald as quickly as I can get to him."</p> + +<p>His manner more than his words kept Blackton from urging him to remain. The +contractor stared at him for a moment, his own eyes growing harder and more +direct.</p> + +<p>"It's about the shooting," he said. "If you want me to go with you, +Aldous——"</p> + +<p>"Thanks. That will be unnecessary."</p> + +<p>Peggy Blackton and Joanne were returning. Aldous turned toward them as they +entered the room. With the note still in his hand he repeated to them what +he had told Blackton—that he had received word which made it immediately +urgent for him to go to MacDonald. He shook hands with the Blacktons, +promising to be on hand for the four o'clock breakfast.</p> + +<p>Joanne followed him to the door and out upon the veranda. For a moment they +were alone, and now her eyes were wide and filled with fear as he clasped +her hands closely in his own.</p> + +<p>"I saw him," she whispered, her fingers tightening convulsively. "I saw +that man—Quade—at the station. He followed us up the street. Twice I +looked behind—and saw him. I am afraid—afraid to let you go back there. I +believe he is somewhere out there now—waiting for you!"</p> + +<p>She was frightened, trembling; and her fear for him, the fear in her +shining eyes, in her throbbing breath, in the clasp of her fingers, sent +through John Aldous a joy that almost made him free her hands and crush her +in his arms in the ecstasy of that wonderful moment. Then Peggy Blackton +and her husband appeared in the door. He released her hands, and stepped +out into the gloom. The cheery good-nights of the Blacktons followed him. +And Joanne's good-night was in her eyes—following him until he was gone, +filled with their entreaty and their fear.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards distant, where the trail split to lead to the camp of the +engineers, there was a lantern on a pole. Here Aldous paused, out of sight +of the Blackton bungalow, and in the dim light read again MacDonald's note.</p> + +<p>In a cramped and almost illegible hand the old wanderer of the mountains +had written:</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>Don't go to cabin. Culver Rann waiting to kill you. Don't show + yorself in town. Cum to me as soon as you can on trail striking + north to Loon Lake. Watch yorself. Be ready with yor gun.</p> + +<p> DONALD MacDONALD.</p></div> + +<p>Aldous shoved the note in his pocket and slipped back out of the +lantern-glow into deep shadow. For several minutes he stood silent and +listening.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br> + +<p>As John Aldous stood hidden in the darkness, listening for the sound of a +footstep, Joanne's words still rang in his ears. "I believe he is out +there—waiting for you," she had said; and, chuckling softly in the gloom, +he told himself that nothing would give him more satisfaction than an +immediate and material proof of her fear. In the present moment he felt a +keen desire to confront Quade face to face out there in the lantern-glow, +and settle with the mottled beast once for all. The fact that Quade had +seen Joanne as the guest of the Blacktons hardened him in his +determination. Quade could no longer be in possible error regarding her. He +knew that she had friends, and that she was not of the kind who could be +made or induced to play his game and Culver Rann's. If he followed her +after this——</p> + +<p>Aldous gritted his teeth and stared up and down the black trail. Five +minutes passed and he heard nothing that sounded like a footstep, and he +saw no moving shadow in the gloom. Slowly he continued along the road until +he came to where a narrow pack-trail swung north and east through the thick +spruce and balsam in the direction of Loon Lake. Remembering MacDonald's +warning, he kept his pistol in his hand. The moon was just beginning to +rise over the shoulder of a mountain, and after a little it lighted up the +more open spaces ahead of him. Now and then he paused, and turned to +listen. As he progressed with slowness and caution, his mind worked +swiftly. He knew that Donald MacDonald was the last man in the world to +write such a message as he had sent him through Blackton unless there had +been a tremendous reason for it. But why, he asked himself again and again, +should Culver Rann want to kill him? Rann knew nothing of Joanne. He had +not seen her. And surely Quade had not had time to formulate a plot with +his partner before MacDonald wrote his warning. Besides, an attempt had +been made to assassinate the old mountaineer! MacDonald had not warned him +against Quade. He had told him to guard himself against Rann. And what +reason could this Culver Rann have for doing him injury? The more he +thought of it the more puzzled he became. And then, in a flash, the +possible solution of it all came to him.</p> + +<p>Had Culver Rann discovered the secret mission on which he and the old +mountaineer were going into the North? Had he learned of the gold—where it +was to be found? And was their assassination the first step in a plot to +secure possession of the treasure?</p> + +<p>The blood in Aldous' veins ran faster. He gripped his pistol harder. More +closely he looked into the moonlit gloom of the trail ahead of him. He +believed that he had guessed the meaning of MacDonald's warning. It was the +gold! More than once thought of the yellow treasure far up in the North had +thrilled him, but never as it thrilled him now. Was the old tragedy of it +to be lived over again? Was it again to play its part in a terrible drama +of men's lives, as it had played it more than forty years ago? The gold! +The gold that for nearly half a century had lain with the bones of its +dead, alone with its terrible secret, alone until Donald MacDonald had +found it again! He had not told Joanne the story of it, the appalling and +almost unbelievable tragedy of it. He had meant to do so. But they had +talked of other things. He had meant to tell her that it was not the gold +itself that was luring him far to the north—that it was not the gold alone +that was taking Donald MacDonald back to it.</p> + +<p>And now, as he stood for a moment listening to the low sweep of the wind in +the spruce-tops, it seemed to him that the night was filled with whispering +voices of that long-ago—and he shivered, and held his breath. A cloud had +drifted under the moon. For a few moments it was pitch dark. The fingers of +his hand dug into the rough bark of a spruce. He did not move. It was then +that he heard something above the caressing rustle of the wind in the +spruce-tops.</p> + +<p>It came to him faintly, from full half a mile deeper in the black forest +that reached down to the bank of the Frazer. It was the night call of an +owl—one of the big gray owls that turned white as the snow in winter. +Mentally he counted the notes in the call. One, two, three, <i>four</i>—and a +flood of relief swept over him. It was MacDonald. They had used that signal +in their hunting, when they had wished to locate each other without +frightening game. Always there were three notes in the big gray owl's +quavering cry. The fourth was human. He put his hands to his mouth and sent +back an answer, emphasizing the fourth note. The light breeze had died down +for a moment, and Aldous heard the old mountaineer's reply as it floated +faintly back to him through the forest. Continuing to hold his pistol, he +went on, this time more swiftly.</p> + +<p>MacDonald did not signal again. The moon was climbing rapidly into the sky, +and with each passing minute the night was becoming lighter. He had gone +half a mile when he stopped again and signalled softly. MacDonald's voice +answered, so near that for an instant the automatic flashed in the +moonlight. Aldous stepped out where the trail had widened into a small open +spot. Half a dozen paces from him, in the bright flood of the moon, stood +Donald MacDonald.</p> + +<p>The night, the moon-glow, the tense attitude of his waiting added to the +weirdness of the picture which the old wanderer of the mountains made as +Aldous faced him. MacDonald was tall; some trick of the night made him +appear almost unhumanly tall as he stood in the centre of that tiny moonlit +amphitheatre. His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders drooped a +little, for he was old. A thick, shaggy beard fell in a silvery sheen over +his breast. His hair, gray as the underwing of the owl whose note he +forged, straggled in uncut disarray from under the drooping rim of a +battered and weatherworn hat. His coat was of buckskin, and it was short at +the sleeves—four inches too short; and the legs of his trousers were cut +off between the knees and the ankles, giving him a still greater appearance +of height.</p> + +<p>In the crook of his arm MacDonald held a rifle, a strange-looking, +long-barrelled rifle of a type a quarter of a century old. And Donald +MacDonald, in the picture he made, was like his gun, old and gray and +ghostly, as if he had risen out of some graveyard of the past to warm +himself in the yellow splendour of the moon. But in the grayness and +gauntness of him there was something that was mightier than the strength of +youth. He was alert. In the crook of his arm there was caution. His eyes +were as keen as the eyes of an animal. His shoulders spoke of a strength +but little impaired by the years. Ghostly gray beard, ghostly gray hair, +haunting eyes that gleamed, all added to the strange and weird +impressiveness of the man as he stood before Aldous. And when he spoke, his +voice had in it the deep, low, cavernous note of a partridge's drumming.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've come, Aldous," he said. "I've been waiting ever since the +train come in. I was afraid you'd go to the cabin!"</p> + +<p>Aldous stepped forth and gripped the old mountaineer's outstretched hand. +There was intense relief in Donald's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I got a little camp back here in the bush," he went on, nodding riverward. +"It's safer 'n the shack these days. Yo're sure—there ain't no one +following?"</p> + +<p>"Quite certain," assured Aldous. "Look here, MacDonald—what in thunder has +happened? Don't continue my suspense! Who shot you? Why did you warn me?"</p> + +<p>Deep in his beard the old hunter laughed.</p> + +<p>"Same fellow as would have shot you, I guess," he answered. "They made a +bad job of it, Johnny, an awful bad job, an' mebby there'd been a better +man layin' for you!"</p> + +<p>He was pulling Aldous in the bush as he spoke. For ten minutes he dived on +ahead through a jungle in which there was no trail. Suddenly he turned, +led the way around the edge of a huge mass of rock, and paused a moment +later before a small smouldering fire. Against the face of a gigantic +boulder was a balsam shelter. A few cooking utensils were scattered about. +It was evident that MacDonald had been living here for several days.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though I'd run away, don't it, Johnny?" he asked, laughing in his +curious, chuckling way again. "An' so I did, boy. From the mountain up +there I've been watching things through my telescope—been keepin' quiet +since Doc pulled the bullet out. I've been layin' for the Breed. I wanted +him to think I'd vamoosed. I'm goin' to kill him!"</p> + +<p>He had squatted down before the fire, his long rifle across his knees, and +spoke as quietly as though he was talking of a partridge or a squirrel +instead of a human being. He wormed a hand into one of his pockets and +produced a small dark object which he handed to Aldous The other felt an +uncanny chill as it touched his fingers. It was a mis-shapened bullet.</p> + +<p>"Doc gave me the lead," continued MacDonald coolly, beginning to slice a +pipeful of tobacco from a tar-black plug. "It come from Joe's gun. I've +hunted with him enough to know his bullet. He fired through the window of +the cabin. If it hadn't been for the broom handle—just the end of it +stickin' up"—he shrugged his gaunt shoulders as he stuffed the tobacco +into the bowl of his pipe—"I'd been dead!" he finished tersely.</p> + +<p>"You mean that Joe——"</p> + +<p>"Has sold himself to Culver Rann!" exclaimed MacDonald. He sprang to his +feet. For the first time he showed excitement. His eyes blazed with +repressed rage. A hand gripped the barrel of his rifle as if to crush it. +"He's sold himself to Culver Rann!" he repeated. "He's sold him our secret. +He's told him where the gold is, Johnny! He's bargained to guide Rann an' +his crowd to it! An' first—they're goin' to kill <i>us!</i>"</p> + +<p>With a low whistle Aldous took off his hat. He ran a hand through his +blond-gray hair. Then he replaced his hat and drew two cigars from his +pocket. MacDonald accepted one. Aldous' eyes were glittering; his lips were +smiling.</p> + +<p>"They are, are they, Donald? They're going to kill us?"</p> + +<p>"They're goin' to try," amended the old hunter, with another curious +chuckle in his ghostly beard. "They're goin' to try, Johnny. That's why I +told you not to go to the cabin. I wasn't expecting you for a week. +To-morrow I was goin' to start on a hike for Miette. I been watching +through my telescope from the mountain up there. I see Quade come in this +morning on a hand-car. Twice I see him and Rann together. Then I saw +Blackton hike out into the bush. I was worrying about you an' wondered if +he had any word. So I laid for him on the trail—an' I guess it was lucky. +I ain't been able to set my eyes on Joe. I looked for hours through the +telescope—an' I couldn't find him. He's gone, or Culver Rann is keeping +him out of sight."</p> + +<p>For several moments Aldous looked at his companion in silence. Then he +said:</p> + +<p>"You're sure of all this, are you, Donald? You have good proof—that Joe +has turned traitor?"</p> + +<p>"I've been suspicious of him ever since we come down from the North," +spoke MacDonald slowly. "I watched him—night an' day. I was afraid he'd +get a grubstake an' start back alone. Then I saw him with Culver Rann. It +was late. I heard 'im leave the shack, an' I followed. He went to Rann's +house—an' Rann was expecting him. Three times I followed him to Culver +Rann's house. I knew what was happening then, an' I planned to get him back +in the mountains on a hunt, an' kill him. But I was too late. The shot came +through the window. Then he disappeared. An'—Culver Rann is getting an +outfit together! Twenty head of horses, with grub for three months!"</p> + +<p>"The deuce! And our outfit? Is it ready?"</p> + +<p>"To the last can o' beans!"</p> + +<p>"And your plan, Donald?"</p> + +<p>All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as he +came nearer to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Get out of Tête Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice that +quivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into the +mountains with our outfit—far enough back—and then wait!"</p> + +<p>"Wait?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—wait. If they follow us—<i>fight!</i>"</p> + +<p>Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily they +looked into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>Then John Aldous spoke:</p> + +<p>"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night—it is +impossible."</p> + +<p>The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop came +into MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despair +settled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's hand +more firmly.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight," he said quickly. "Only we've +got to plan differently. Sit down, Donald. Something has been happening to +me. And I'm going to tell you about it."</p> + +<p>A little back from the fire they seated themselves, and Aldous told Donald +MacDonald about Joanne.</p> + +<p>He began at the beginning, from the moment his eyes first saw her as she +entered Quade's place. He left nothing out. He told how she had come into +his life, and how he intended to fight to keep her from going out of it. He +told of his fears, his hopes, the mystery of their coming to Tête Jaune, +and how Quade had preceded them to plot the destruction of the woman he +loved. He described her as she had stood that morning, like a radiant +goddess in the sun; and when he came to that he leaned nearer, and said +softly:</p> + +<p>"And when I saw her there, Donald, with her hair streaming about her like +that, I thought of the time you told me of that other woman—the woman of +years and years ago—and how you, Donald, used to look upon her in the sun, +and rejoice in your possession. Her spirit has been with you always. You +have told me how for nearly fifty years you have followed it over these +mountains. And this woman means as much to me. If she should die to-night +her spirit would live with me in that same way. You understand, Donald. I +can't go into the mountains to-night. God knows when I can go—now. But +you——"</p> + +<p>MacDonald had risen. He turned his face to the black wall of the forest. +Aldous thought he saw a sudden quiver pass through the great, bent +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"And I," said MacDonald slowly, "will have the horses ready for you at +dawn. We will fight this other fight—later."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br> + +<p>For an hour after Donald MacDonald had pledged himself to accompany Joanne +and Aldous on their pilgrimage to the grave in the Saw Tooth Range the two +men continued to discuss the unusual complications in which they had +suddenly become involved, and at the same time prepared themselves a supper +of bacon and coffee over the fire. They agreed upon a plan of action with +one exception. Aldous was determined to return to the town, arguing there +was a good strategic reason for showing himself openly and without fear. +MacDonald opposed this apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Better lay quiet until morning," he expostulated. "You'd better listen to +me, an' do that, Johnny. I've got something in my shoulder that tells me +you'd better!"</p> + +<p>In the face of the old hunter's misgiving, Aldous prepared to leave. It was +nearly ten o'clock when he set back in the direction of Tête Jaune, Donald +accompanying him as far as the moonlit amphitheatre in the forest. There +they separated, and Aldous went on alone.</p> + +<p>He believed that Joanne and the Blacktons would half expect him to return +to the bungalow after he had seen MacDonald. He was sure that Blackton, at +least, would look for him until quite late. The temptation to take +advantage of their hospitality was great, especially as it would bring him +in the company of Joanne again. On the other hand, he was certain that this +first night in Tête Jaune held very large possibilities for him. The +detective instinct in him was roused, and his adventurous spirit was alive +for action. First of all, he wanted proof of what MacDonald had told him. +That an attempt had been made to assassinate the old mountaineer he did not +for an instant doubt. But had Joe DeBar, the half-breed, actually betrayed +them? Had he sold himself to Culver Rann, and did Rann hold the key to the +secret expedition they had planned into the North? He did not, at first, +care to see Rann. He made up his mind that if he did meet him he would stop +and chat casually with him, as though he had heard and seen nothing to +rouse his suspicions. He particularly wanted to find DeBar; and, next to +DeBar, Quade himself.</p> + +<p>The night carnival was at its height when Aldous re-entered the long, +lighted street. From ten until eleven was the liveliest hour of the night. +Even the restaurants and soup-kitchens were crowded then. He strolled +slowly down the street until he came to a little crowd gathered about the +bear equestrienne. The big canvas dance-hall a few doors away had lured +from her most of her admirers by this time, and Aldous found no difficulty +in reaching the inner circle. He looked first for the half-breed. Failing +to find him, he looked at the woman, who stood only a few feet from him. +Her glossy black curls were a bit dishevelled, and the excitement of the +night had added to the vivid colouring of her rouged lips and cheeks. Her +body was sleek and sinuous in its silken vesture; arms and shoulders were +startlingly white; and when she turned, facing Aldous, her black eyes +flashed fires of deviltry and allurement.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stared into her face. If he had not been looking closely he +would not have caught the swift change that shot into the siren-like play +of her orbs. It was almost instantaneous. Her slow-travelling glance +stopped as she saw him. He saw the quick intake of her breath, a sudden +compression of her lips, the startled, searching scrutiny of a pair of eyes +from which, for a moment, all the languor and coquetry of her trade were +gone. Then she passed him, smiling again, nodding, sweeping a hand and arm +effectively through her handsome curls as she flung a shapely limb over the +broad back of the bear. In a garish sort of way the woman was beautiful, +and this night, as on all others, her beauty had nearly filled the silken +coin-bag suspended from her neck. As she rode down the street Aldous +recalled Blackton's words: She was a friend of Culver Rann's. He wondered +if this fact accounted for the strangeness of the look she had given him.</p> + +<p>He passed on to the dance-hall. It was crowded, mostly with men. But here +and there, like so many faces peering forth from living graves, he saw the +Little Sisters of Tête Jaune Cache. Outnumbered ten to one, their voices +rang out in shrill banter and delirious laughter above the rumble of men. +At the far end, a fiddle, a piano, and a clarinet were squealing forth +music. The place smelled strongly of whisky. It always smelled of that, for +most of the men who sought amusement here got their whisky in spite of the +law. There were rock-hogs from up the line, and rock-hogs from down the +line, men of all nationalities and of almost all ages; teamsters, +trail-cutters, packers, and rough-shod navvies; men whose daily task was to +play with dynamite and giant powder; steel-men, tie-men, and men who +drilled into the hearts of mountains. More than once John Aldous had looked +upon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wild +revelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia would +again be the builders of an empire. The thin, hollow-cheeked faces that +passed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mind +the strength of the picture. They were but moths, fluttering about in their +own doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achieve +destruction.</p> + +<p>For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, and +nowhere did he see DeBar. He dropped out, and continued leisurely along the +lighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white striped +soup-tent. At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as the +dance-hall. Aldous knew Lovak, the Hungarian.</p> + +<p>Through Lovak he had found the key that had unlocked for him many curious +and interesting things associated with that powerful Left Arm of the Empire +Builders—the Slav. Except for a sprinkling of Germans, a few Italians, and +now and then a Greek or Swiss, only the Slavs filled Lovak's place!--Slavs +from all the Russias and the nations south: the quick and chattering Polak; +the thick-set, heavy-jowled Croatian; the silent and dangerous-eyed +Lithuanian. All came in for Lovak's wonderful soup, which he sold in big +yellow bowls at ten cents a bowl—soup of barley, rice, and cabbage, of +beef and mutton, of everything procurable out of which soup could be made, +and, whether of meat or vegetable, smelling to heaven of garlic.</p> + +<p>Fifty men were eating when Aldous went in, devouring their soup with the +utter abandon and joy of the Galician, so that the noise they made was like +the noise of fifty pigs at fifty troughs. Now and then DeBar, the +half-breed, came here for soup, and Aldous searched quickly for him. He was +turning to go when his friend, Lovak, came to him. No, Lovak had not seen +DeBar. But he had news. That day the authorities—the police—had +confiscated twenty dressed hogs, and in each porcine carcass they had found +four-quart bottles of whisky, artistically imbedded in the leaf-lard fat. +The day before those same authorities had confiscated a barrel of +"kerosene." They were becoming altogether too officious, Lovak thought.</p> + +<p>Aldous went on. He looked in at a dozen restaurants, and twice as many +soft-drink emporiums, where phonographs were worked until they were cracked +and dizzy. He stopped at a small tobacco shop, and entered to buy himself +some cigars. There was one other customer ahead of him. He was lighting a +cigar, and the light of a big hanging lamp flashed on a diamond ring. Over +his sputtering match his eyes met those of John Aldous. They were dark +eyes, neither brown nor black, but dark, with the keenness and strange +glitter of a serpent's. He wore a small, clipped moustache; his hands were +white; he was a man whom one might expect to possess the <i>sang froid</i> of a +devil in any emergency. For barely an instant he hesitated in the operation +of lighting his cigar as he saw Aldous. Then he nodded.</p> + +<p>"Hello, John Aldous," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Culver Rann," replied Aldous.</p> + +<p>For a moment his nerves had tingled—the next they were like steel. Culver +Rann's teeth gleamed. Aldous smiled back. They were cold, hard, rapierlike +glances. Each understood now that the other was a deadly enemy, for Quade's +enemies were also Culver Rann's. Aldous moved carelessly to the glass case +in which were the cigars. With the barest touch of one of his slim white +hands Culver Rann stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Have one of mine, Aldous," he invited, opening a silver case filled with +cigars. "We've never had the pleasure of smoking together, you know."</p> + +<p>"Never," said Aldous, accepting one of the cigars. "Thanks."</p> + +<p>As he lighted it, their eyes met again. Aldous turned to the case.</p> + +<p>"Half a dozen 'Noblemen,'" he said to the man behind the counter; then, to +Rann: "Will you have one on me?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure," said Rann. He added, smiling straight into the other's +eyes, "What are you doing up here, Aldous? After local colour?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. The place interests me."</p> + +<p>"It's a lively town."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly. And I understand that you've played an important part in the +making of it," replied Aldous carelessly.</p> + +<p>For a flash Rann's eyes darkened, and his mouth hardened, then his white +teeth gleamed again. He had caught the insinuation, and he had scarcely +been able to ward off the shot.</p> + +<p>"I've tried to do my small share," he admitted. "If you're after local +colour for your books, Aldous, I possibly may be able to assist you—if +you're in town long."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly you could," said Aldous. "I think you could tell me a great +deal that I would like to know, Rann. But—will you?"</p> + +<p>There was a direct challenge in his coldly smiling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I shall be quite pleased to do so," said Rann. +"Especially—if you are long in town." There was an odd emphasis on those +last words.</p> + +<p>He moved toward the door.</p> + +<p>"And if you are here very long," he added, his eyes gleaming significantly, +"it is possible you may have experiences of your own which would make very +interesting reading if they ever got into print. Good-night, Aldous!"</p> + +<p>For two or three minutes after Rann had gone Aldous loitered in the tobacco +shop. Then he went out. All at once it struck him that he should have kept +his eyes on Quade's partner. He should have followed him. With the hope of +seeing him again he walked up and down the street. It was eleven o'clock +when he went into Big Ben's pool-room. Five minutes later he came out just +as a woman hurried past him, carrying with her a strong scent of perfume. +It was the Lady of the Bear. She was in a street dress now, her glossy +curls still falling loose about her—probably homeward bound after her +night's harvest. It struck Aldous that the hour was early for her +retirement, and that she seemed somewhat in a hurry.</p> + +<p>The woman was going in the direction of Rann's big log bungalow, which was +built well out of town toward the river. She had not seen him as he stood +in the pool-room doorway, and before she had passed out of sight he was +following her. There were a dozen branch trails and "streets" on the way to +Rann's, and into the gloom of some one of these the woman disappeared, so +that Aldous lost her entirely. He was not disappointed when he found she +had left the main trail.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he stood close to Rann's house. From the side on which +he had approached it was dark. No gleam of light showed through the +windows. Slowly he walked around the building, and stopped suddenly on the +opposite side. Here a closely drawn curtain was illuminated by a glow from +within. Cautiously Aldous made his way along the log wall of the house +until he came to the window. At one side the curtain had caught against +some object, leaving perhaps a quarter of an inch of space through which +the light shone. Aldous brought his eyes on a level with this space.</p> + +<p>A half of the room came within his vision. Directly in front of him, +lighted by a curiously shaped iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, was a +dull red mahogany desk-table. At one side of this, partly facing him, was +Culver Rann. Opposite him sat Quade.</p> + +<p>Rann was speaking, while Quade, with his bullish shoulders hunched forward +and his fleshy red neck, rolling over the collar of his coat, leaned across +the table in a tense and listening attitude. With his eyes glued to the +aperture, Aldous strained his ears to catch what Rann was saying. He heard +only the low and unintelligible monotone of his voice. A mocking smile was +accompanying Rann's words. To-night, as at all times, this hawk who preyed +upon human lives was immaculate. In all ways but one he was the antithesis +of the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyed +carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in +his cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little +moustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands, +as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, on +the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman. +Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain +and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous +men in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool and +suave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quade +lacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminate +immaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. He +struck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled. +And John Aldous slipped away from the window.</p> + +<p>His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket that +held his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behind +Rann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He was +sure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald—and +Joanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would be +three quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door was +an inspiration.</p> + +<p>Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the door +and found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch at +a time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was a +second closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. He +closed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of air +or a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, he +began to open the second door.</p> + +<p>An inch at first, then two inches, three inches—a foot—he worked the door +inward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to the +floor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open door +he saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted a +fresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with a +banter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating.</p> + +<p>"You amaze me," Rann was saying. "You amaze me utterly. You've gone +mad—mad as a rock-rabbit, Quade! Do you mean to tell me you're on the +square when you offer to turn over a half of your share in the gold if I +help you to get this woman?"</p> + +<p>"I do," replied Quade thickly. "I mean just that! And we'll put it down in +black an' white—here, now. You fix the papers, same as any other deal, and +I'll sign!"</p> + +<p>For a moment Culver Rann did not reply. He leaned back in his chair, thrust +the thumbs of his white hands in his vest, and sent a cloud of smoke above +his head. Then he looked at Quade, a gleam of humour in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nothing like a woman for turning a man's head soft," he chuckled. "Nothing +in the world like it, 'pon my word, Quade. First it was DeBar. I don't +believe we'd got him if he hadn't seen Marie riding her bear. Marie and +her curls and her silk tights, Quade—s'elp me, it wouldn't have surprised +me so much if you'd fallen in love with <i>her!</i> And over this other woman +you're as mad as Joe is over Marie. At first sight he was ready to sell his +soul for her. So—I gave Marie to him. And now, for some other woman, +you're just as anxious to surrender a half of your share of what we've +bought through Marie. Good heaven, man, if you were in love with Marie——"</p> + +<p>"Damn Marie!" growled Quade. "I know the time when you were bugs over her +yourself, Rann. It wasn't so long ago. If I'd looked at her then——"</p> + +<p>"Of course, not then," interrupted Rann smilingly. "That would have been +impolite, Quade, and not at all in agreement with the spirit of our +brotherly partnership. And, you must admit, Marie is a devilish +good-looking girl. I've surrendered her only for a brief spell to DeBar. +After he has taken us to the gold—why, the poor idiot will probably have +been sufficiently happy to——"</p> + +<p>He paused, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"—go into cold storage," finished Quade.</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>Again Quade leaned over the table, and for a moment there was silence, a +silence in which Aldous thought the pounding of his heart must betray him. +He lay motionless on the floor. The nails of his fingers dug into the bare +wood. Under the palm of his right hand lay his automatic.</p> + +<p>Then Quade spoke. There must have been more in his face than was spoken in +his words, for Culver Rann took the cigar from between his lips, and a +light that was deadly serious slowly filled his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Rann, we'll talk business!" Quade's voice was harsh, deep, and quivering. +"I want this woman. I may be a fool, but I'm going to have her. I might get +her alone, but we've always done things together—an' so I made you that +proposition. It ain't a hard job. It's one of the easiest jobs we ever had. +Only that fool of a writer is in the way—an' he's got to go anyway. We've +got to get rid of him on account of the gold, him an' MacDonald. We've got +that planned. An' I've showed you how we can get the woman, an' no one ever +know. Are you in on this with me?"</p> + +<p>Culver Rann's reply was as quick and sharp as a pistol shot.</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>For another moment there was silence. Then Quade asked:</p> + +<p>"Any need of writin', Culver?"</p> + +<p>"No. There can't be a written agreement in this deal because—it's +dangerous. There won't be much said about old MacDonald. But questions, a +good many of them, will be asked about this man Aldous. As for the +woman——" Rann shrugged his shoulders with a sinister smile. "She will +disappear like the others," he finished. "No one will ever get on to that. +If she doesn't make a pal like Marie—after a time, why——"</p> + +<p>Again Aldous saw that peculiar shrug of his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Quade's head nodded on his thick neck.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I agree to that," he said. "After a time. But most of 'em have +come over, ain't they, Culver? Eh? Most of 'em have," he chuckled coarsely. +"When you see her you won't call me a fool for going dippy over her, +Culver. And she'll come round all right after she's gone through what we've +got planned for her. I'll make a pal of her!"</p> + +<p>In that moment, as he listened to the gloating passion and triumph in +Quade's brutal voice, something broke in the brain of John Aldous. It +filled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought or +plan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a single +desire—the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged through +him, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth in +animal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that the +others did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hear +the slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol.</p> + +<p>For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensed +the words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to kill +them. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that he +might kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. He +wanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment when +they would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. He +would give them that one moment of life—just that one. Then he would kill.</p> + +<p>With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself +there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver +Rann. The latter sat stunned. Not the movement of a finger broke the +stonelike immobility of his attitude. His eyes were like two dark coals +gazing steadily as a serpent's over Quade's hunched shoulders and bowed +head. Quade seemed as if frozen on the point of speaking to Rann. One hand +was still poised a foot above the table. It was he who broke the tense and +lifeless tableau.</p> + +<p>Slowly, almost as slowly as Aldous had opened the door, Quade turned his +head, and stared into the coldly smiling face of the man whom he had +plotted to kill, and saw the gleaming pistol in his hand. A curious look +overcame his pouchy face, a look not altogether of terror—but of shock. He +knew Aldous had heard. He accepted in an instant, and perceptibly, the +significance of the pistol in his hand. But Culver Rann sat like a rock. +His face expressed nothing. Not for the smallest part of a second had he +betrayed any emotion that might be throbbing within him. In spite of +himself Aldous admired the man's unflinching nerve.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, gentlemen!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Then Rann leaned slowly forward over the table. One hand rose to his +moustache. It was his right hand. The other was invisible. Quade pulled +himself together and stepped to the end of the table, his two empty hands +in front of him. Aldous, still smiling, faced Rann's glittering eyes and +covered him with his automatic. Culver Rann twisted the end of his +moustache, and smiled back.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said. "Is it checkmate?"</p> + +<p>"It is," replied Aldous. "I've promised you scoundrels one minute of life. +I guess that minute is about up."</p> + +<p>The last word was scarcely out of his mouth when the room was in +darkness—a darkness so complete and sudden that for an instant his hand +faltered, and in that instant he heard the overturning of a chair and the +falling of a body. Twice his automatic sent a lightning-flash of fire where +Culver Rann had sat; twice it spat threadlike ribbons of flame through the +blackness where Quade had stood. He knew what had happened, and also what +to expect if he lost out now. The curiously shaped iron lamp had concealed +an electric bulb, and Rann had turned off the switch-key under the table. +He had no further time to think. An object came hurtling through the thick +gloom and fell with terrific force on his outstretched pistol arm. His +automatic flew from his hand and struck against the wall. Unarmed, he +sprang back toward the open door—full into the arms of Quade!</p> + +<p>Aldous knew that it was Quade and not Culver Rann, and he struck out with +all the force he could gather in a short-arm blow. His fist landed against +Quade's thick neck. Again and again he struck, and Quade's grip loosened. +In another moment he would have reached the door if Rann had not caught him +from behind. Never had Aldous felt the clutch of hands like those of the +womanish hands of Culver Rann. It was as if sinuous fingers of steel were +burying themselves in his flesh. Before they found his throat he flung +himself backward with all his weight, and with a tremendous effort freed +himself.</p> + +<p>Both Quade and Culver Rann now stood between him and the door. He could +hear Quade's deep, panting breath. Rann, as before, was silent as death. +Then he heard the door close. A key clicked in the lock. He was trapped.</p> + +<p>"Turn on the light, Billy," he heard Rann say in a quiet, unexcited voice. +"We've got this house-breaker cornered, and he's lost his gun. Turn on the +light—and I'll make one shot do the business!"</p> + +<p>Aldous heard Quade moving, but he was not coming toward the table. +Somewhere in the room was another switch connected with the iron lamp, and +Aldous felt a curious chill shoot up his spine. Without seeing through that +pitch darkness of the room he sensed the fact that Culver Rann was standing +with his back against the locked door, a revolver in his hand. And he knew +that Quade, feeling his way along the wall, held a revolver in his hand. +Men like these two did not go unarmed. The instant the light was turned on +they would do their work. As he stood, silent as Culver Rann, he realized +the tables were turned. In that moment's madness roused by Quade's gloating +assurance of possessing Joanne he had revealed himself like a fool, and now +he was about to reap the whirlwind of his folly. Deliberately he had given +himself up to his enemies. They, too, would be fools if they allowed him to +escape alive.</p> + +<p>He heard Quade stop. His thick hand was fumbling along the wall. Aldous +guessed that he was feeling for the switch. He almost fancied he could see +Rann's revolver levelled at him through the darkness. In that thrilling +moment his mind worked with the swiftness of a powder flash. One of his +hands touched the edge of the desk-table, and he knew that he was standing +directly opposite the curtained window, perhaps six feet from it. If he +flung himself through the window the curtain would save him from being cut +to pieces.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the idea of escape come to him than he had acted. A flood of +light filled the room as his body crashed through the glass. He heard a +cry—a single shot—as he struck the ground. He gathered himself up and ran +swiftly. Fifty yards away he stopped, and looked back. Quade and Rann were +in the window. Then they disappeared, and a moment later the room was again +in gloom.</p> + +<p>For a second time Aldous hurried in the direction of MacDonald's camp. He +knew that, in spite of the protecting curtain, the glass had cut him. He +felt the warm blood dripping over his face; both hands were wet with it, +The arm on which he had received the blow from the unseen object in the +room gave him considerable pain, and he had slightly sprained an ankle in +his leap through the window, so that he limped a little. But his mind was +clear—so clear that in the face of his physical discomfort he caught +himself laughing once or twice as he made his way along the trail.</p> + +<p>Aldous was not of an ordinary type. To a curious and superlative degree he +could appreciate a defeat as well as a triumph. His adventures had been a +part of a life in which he had not always expected to win, and in +to-night's game he admitted that he had been hopelessly and ridiculously +beaten. Tragedy, to him, was a first cousin of comedy; to-night he had set +out to kill, and, instead of killing, he had run like a jack-rabbit for +cover. Also, in that same half-hour Rann and Quade had been sure of him, +and he had given them the surprise of their lives by his catapultic +disappearance through the window. There was something ludicrous about it +all—something that, to him, at least, had turned a possible tragedy into a +very good comedy-drama.</p> + +<p>Nor was Aldous blind to the fact that he had made an utter fool of himself, +and that the consequences of his indiscretion might prove extremely +serious. Had he listened to the conspirators without betraying himself he +would have possessed an important advantage over them. The knowledge he had +gained from overhearing their conversation would have made it comparatively +easy for MacDonald and him to strike them a perhaps fatal blow through the +half-breed DeBar. As the situation stood now, he figured that Quade and +Culver Rann held the advantage. Whatever they had planned to do they would +put into quick execution. They would not lose a minute.</p> + +<p>It was not for himself that Aldous feared. Neither did he fear for Joanne. +Every drop of red fighting blood in him was ready for further action, and +he was determined that Quade should find no opportunity of accomplishing +any scheme he might have against Joanne's person. On the other hand, unless +they could head off DeBar, he believed that Culver Rann's chances of +reaching the gold ahead of them would grow better with the passing of each +hour. To protect Joanne from Quade he must lose no time. MacDonald would +be in the same predicament, while Rann, assisted by as many rascals of his +own colour as he chose to take with him, would be free to carry out the +other part of the conspirators' plans.</p> + +<p>The longer he thought of the mess he had stirred up the more roundly Aldous +cursed his imprudence. And this mess, as he viewed it in these cooler +moments, was even less disturbing than the thought of what might have +happened had he succeeded in his intention of killing both Quade and Rann. +Twenty times as he made his way through the darkness toward MacDonald's +camp he told himself that he must have been mad. To have killed Rann or +Quade in self-defence, or in open fight, would have been playing the game +with a shadow of mountain law behind it. But he had invaded Rann's home. +Had he killed them he would have had but little more excuse than a +house-breaker or a suspicious husband might have had. Tête Jaune would not +countenance cold-blooded shooting, even of criminals. He should have taken +old Donald's advice and waited until they were in the mountains. An +unpleasant chill ran through him as he thought of the narrowness of his +double escape.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, John Aldous found MacDonald awake when he arrived at the +camp in the thickly timbered coulee. He was preparing a midnight cup of +coffee over a fire that was burning cheerfully between two big rocks. +Purposely Aldous stepped out into the full illumination of it. The old +hunter looked up. For a moment he stared into the blood-smeared face of his +friend; then he sprang to his feet, and caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I got it," nodded Aldous cheerfully. "I went out for it, Mac, and I +got it! Get out your emergency kit, will you? I rather fancy I need a +little patching up."</p> + +<p>MacDonald uttered not a word. From the balsam lean-to he brought out a +small rubber bag and a towel. Into a canvas wash-basin he then turned a +half pail of cold water, and Aldous got on his knees beside this. Not once +did the old mountaineer speak while he was washing the blood from Aldous' +face and hands. There was a shallow two-inch cut in his forehead, two +deeper ones in his right cheek, and a gouge in his chin. There were a dozen +cuts on his hands, none of them serious. Before he had finished MacDonald +had used two thirds of a roll of court-plaster.</p> + +<p>Then he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You can soak them off in the morning," he said. "If you don't, the lady'll +think yo're a red Indian on the warpath. Now, yo' fool, what have yo' gone +an' done?"</p> + +<p>Aldous told him what had happened, and before MacDonald could utter an +expression of his feelings he admitted that he was an inexcusable idiot and +that nothing MacDonald might say could drive that fact deeper home.</p> + +<p>"If I'd come out after hearing what they had to say, we could have got +DeBar at the end of a gun and settled the whole business," he finished. "As +it is, we're in a mess."</p> + +<p>MacDonald stretched his gaunt gray frame before the fire. He picked up his +long rifle, and fingered the lock.</p> + +<p>"You figger they'll get away with DeBar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-night."</p> + +<p>MacDonald threw open the breech of his single-loader and drew out a +cartridge as long as his finger. Replacing it, he snapped the breech shut.</p> + +<p>"Don't know as I'm pertic'lar sad over what's happened," he said, with a +curious look at Aldous. "We might have got out of this without what you +call strenu'us trouble. Now—it's <i>fight!</i> It's goin' to be a matter of +guns an' bullets, Johnny—back in the mountains. You figger Rann an' the +snake of a half-breed'll get the start of us. Let 'em have a start! They've +got two hundred miles to go, an' two hundred miles to come back. Only—they +won't come back!"</p> + +<p>Under his shaggy brows the old hunter's eyes gleamed as he looked at +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow we'll go to the grave," he added. "Yo're cur'ous to know what's +goin' to happen when we find that grave, Johnny. So am I. I hope——"</p> + +<p>"What do you hope?"</p> + +<p>MacDonald shook his great gray head in the dying firelight.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to bed, Johnny," he rumbled softly in his beard. "It's gettin' +late."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br> + +<p>To sleep after the excitement through which he had passed, and with +to-morrow's uncertainties ahead of him, seemed to Aldous a physical +impossibility. Yet he slept, and soundly. It was MacDonald who roused him +three hours later. They prepared a quick breakfast over a small fire, and +Aldous heated water in which he soaked his face until the strips of +court-plaster peeled off. The scratches were lividly evident, but, inasmuch +as he had a choice of but two evils, he preferred that Joanne should see +these instead of the abominable disfigurement of court-plaster strips.</p> + +<p>Old Donald took one look at him through half-closed eyes.</p> + +<p>"You look as though you'd come out of a tussle with a grizzly," he grinned. +"Want some fresh court-plaster?"</p> + +<p>"And look as though I'd come out of a circus—no!" retorted Aldous. "I'm +invited to breakfast at the Blacktons', Mac. How the devil am I going to +get out of it?"</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em you're sick," chuckled the old hunter, who saw something funny in +the appearance of Aldous' face. "Good Lord, how I'd liked to have seen you +come through that window—in daylight!"</p> + +<p>Aldous led off in the direction of the trail. MacDonald followed close +behind him. It was dark—that almost ebon-black hour that precedes summer +dawn in the northern mountains. The moon had long ago disappeared in the +west. When a few minutes later they paused in the little opening on the +trail Aldous could just make out the shadowy form of the old mountaineer.</p> + +<p>"I lost my gun when I jumped through the window, Mac," he explained. +"There's another thirty-eight automatic in my kit at the corral. Bring +that, and the .303 with the gold-bead sight—and plenty of ammunition. +You'd better take that forty-four hip-cannon of yours along, as well as +your rifle. Wish I could civilize you, Mac, so you'd carry one of the +Savage automatics instead of that old brain-storm of fifty years ago!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald gave a grunt of disgust that was like the whoof of a bear.</p> + +<p>"It's done business all that time," he growled good humouredly. "An' it +ain't ever made me jump through any window as I remember of, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"Enough," said Aldous, and in the gloom he gripped the other's hand. +"You'll be there, Mac—in front of the Blacktons'—just as it's growing +light?"</p> + +<p>"That means in three quarters of an hour, Johnny. I'll be there. Three +saddle-horses and a pack."</p> + +<p>Where the trail divided they separated. Aldous went directly to the +Blacktons'. As he had expected, the bungalow was alight. In the kitchen he +saw Tom, the Oriental cook, busy preparing breakfast. Blackton himself, +comfortably dressed in duck trousers and a smoking-jacket, and puffing on a +pipe, opened the front door for him. The pipe almost fell from his mouth +when he saw his friend's excoriated face.</p> + +<p>"What in the name of Heaven!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"An accident," explained Aldous, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. +"Blackton, I want you to do me another good turn. Tell the ladies anything +you can think of—something reasonable. The truth is, I went through a +window—a window with plenty of glass in it. Now how the deuce can I +explain going through a window like a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>With folded arms, Blackton inspected him thoughtfully for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You can't," he said. "But I don't think you went through a window. I +believe you fell over a cliff and were caught in an armful of wait-a-bit +bushes. They're devilish those wait-a-bits!"</p> + +<p>They shook hands.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to blow up with curiosity again," said Blackton. "But I'll play +your game, Aldous."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Joanne and Peggy Blackton joined them. He saw again the +quick flush of pleasure in Joanne's lovely face when she entered the room. +It changed instantly when she saw the livid cuts in his skin. She came to +him quickly, and gave him her hand. Her lips trembled, but she did not +speak. Blackton accepted this as the psychological moment.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of a man who'll wander off a trail, tumble over a ledge, +and get mixed up in a bunch of wait-a-bit like <i>that?</i>" he demanded, +laughing as though he thought it a mighty good joke on Aldous. "Wait-a-bit +thorns are worse than razors, Miss Gray," he elucidated further. +"They're—they're perfectly devilish, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed they <i>are</i>," emphasized Peggy Blackton, whom her husband had given +a quick look and a quicker nudge, "They're dreadful!"</p> + +<p>Looking straight into Joanne's eyes, Aldous guessed that she did not +believe, and scarcely heard, the Blacktons.</p> + +<p>"I had a presentiment something was going to happen," she said, smiling at +him. "I'm glad it was no worse than that."</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hand, and turned to Peggy Blackton. To John's delight she +had arranged her wonderful shining hair in a braid that rippled in a thick, +sinuous rope of brown and gold below her hips. Peggy Blackton had in some +way found a riding outfit for her slender figure, a typical mountain +outfit, with short divided skirt, loose blouse, and leggings. She had never +looked more beautiful to him. Her night's rest had restored the colour to +her soft cheeks and curved lips; and in her eyes, when she looked at him +again, there was a strange, glowing light that thrilled him. During the +next half-hour he almost forgot his telltale disfigurements. At breakfast +Paul and Peggy Blackton were beautifully oblivious of them. Once or twice +he saw in Joanne's clear eyes a look which made him suspect that she had +guessed very near to the truth.</p> + +<p>MacDonald was prompt to the minute. Gray day, with its bars of golden tint, +was just creeping over the shoulders of the eastern mountains when he rode +up to the Blacktons'. The old hunter was standing close to the horse which +Joanne was to ride when Aldous brought her out. Joanne gave him her hand, +and for a moment MacDonald bowed his shaggy head over it. Five minutes +later they were trailing up the rough wagon-road, MacDonald in the lead, +and Joanne and Aldous behind, with the single pack horse between.</p> + +<p>For several miles this wagon-trail reached back through the thick timber +that filled the bottom between the two ranges of mountains. They had +travelled but a short distance when Joanne drew her horse close in beside +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I want to know what happened last night," she said. "Will you tell me?"</p> + +<p>Aldous met her eyes frankly. He had made up his mind that she would believe +only the truth, and he had decided to tell her at least a part of that. He +would lay his whole misadventure to the gold. Leaning over the pommel of +his saddle he recounted the occurrences of the night before, beginning with +his search for Quade and the half-breed, and his experience with the woman +who rode the bear. He left out nothing—except all mention of herself. He +described the events lightly, not omitting those parts which appealed to +him as being very near to comedy.</p> + +<p>In spite of his effort to rob the affair of its serious aspect his recital +had a decided effect upon Joanne. For some time after he had finished one +of her small gloved hands clutched tightly at the pommel of her saddle; her +breath came more quickly; the colour had ebbed from her cheeks, and she +looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes from meeting his. He began to +believe that in some way she was convinced he had not told her the whole +truth, and was possibly displeased, when she again turned her face to him. +It was tense and white. In it was the fear which, for a few minutes, she +had tried to keep from him.</p> + +<p>"They would have killed you?" she breathed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they would only have given me a good scare," said Aldous. "But I +didn't have time to wait and find out. I was very anxious to see MacDonald +again. So I went through the window!"</p> + +<p>"No, they would have killed you," said Joanne. "Perhaps I did wrong, Mr. +Aldous, but I confided—a little—in Peggy Blackton last night. She seemed +like a sister. I love her. And I wanted to confide in some one—a woman, +like her. It wasn't much, but I told her what happened at Miette: about +you, and Quade, and how I saw him at the station, and again—later, +following us. And then—she told me! Perhaps she didn't know how it was +frightening me, but she told me all about these men—Quade and Culver Rann. +And now I'm more afraid of Culver Rann than Quade, and I've never seen him. +They can't hurt me. But I'm afraid for you!"</p> + +<p>At her words a joy that was like the heat of a fire leaped into his brain.</p> + +<p>"For me?" he said. "Afraid—for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why shouldn't I be, if I know that you are in danger?" she asked +quietly. "And now, since last night, and the discovery of your secret by +these men, I am terrified. Quade has followed you here. Mrs. Blackton told +me that Culver Rann was many times more dangerous than Quade. Only a little +while ago you told me you did not care for riches. Then why do you go for +this gold? Why do you run the risk? Why——"</p> + +<p>He waited. The colour was flooding back into her face in an excited, +feverish flush. Her blue eyes were dark as thunder-clouds in their +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand?" she went on. "It was because of me that you +incurred this deadly enmity of Quade's. If anything happens to you, I shall +hold myself responsible!"</p> + +<p>"No, you will not be responsible," replied Aldous, steadying the tremble in +his voice. "Besides, nothing is going to happen. But you don't know how +happy you have made me by taking this sort of an interest in me. It—it +feels good," he laughed.</p> + +<p>For a few paces he dropped behind her, where the overhead spruce boughs +left but the space for a single rider between. Then, again, he drew up +close beside her.</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you about this gold," he said. "It isn't the gold +we're going after."</p> + +<p>He leaned over until his hand rested on her saddle-bow.</p> + +<p>"Look ahead," he went on, a curious softness in his voice. "Look at +MacDonald!"</p> + +<p>The first shattered rays of the sun were breaking over the mountains and +reflecting their glow in the valley. Donald MacDonald had lifted his face +to the sunrise; out from under his battered hat the morning breeze sweeping +through the valley of the Frazer tossed his shaggy hair; his great owl-gray +beard swept his breast; his broad, gaunt shoulders were hunched a little +forward as he looked into the east. Again Aldous looked into Joanne's eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me north, Ladygray. And +it's not the gold that is taking MacDonald. It is strange, almost +unbelievedly strange—what I am going to tell you. To-day we are seeking a +grave—for you. And up there, two hundred miles in the north, another grave +is calling MacDonald. I am going with him. It just happens that the gold is +there. You wouldn't guess that for more than forty years that blessed old +wanderer ahead of us has loved a dead woman, would you? You wouldn't think +that for nearly half a century, year in and year out, winter and summer +alike, he has tramped the northern mountains—a lost spirit with but one +desire in life—to find at last her resting-place? And yet it is so, +Ladygray. I guess I am the only living creature to whom he has opened his +heart in many a long year. A hundred times beside our campfire I have +listened to him, until at last his story seems almost to be a part of my +own. He may be a little mad, but it is a beautiful madness."</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>"Yes," whispered Joanne. "Go on—John Aldous."</p> + +<p>"It's—hard to tell," he continued. "I can't put the feeling of it in +words, the spirit of it, the wonder of it. I've tried to write it, and I +couldn't. Her name was Jane. He has never spoken of her by any other name +than that, and I've never asked for the rest of it. They were kids when +their two families started West over the big prairies in Conestoga wagons. +They grew up sweethearts. Both of her parents, and his mother, died before +they were married. Then, a little later, his father died, and they were +alone. I can imagine what their love must have been. I have seen it still +living in his eyes, and I have seen it in his strange hour-long dreams +after he has talked of her. They were always together. He has told me how +they roamed the mountains hand in hand in their hunts; how she was comrade +and chum when he went prospecting. He has opened his lonely old heart to +me—a great deal. He's told me how they used to be alone for months at a +time in the mountains, the things they used to do, and how she would sing +for him beside their campfire at night. 'She had a voice sweet as an +angel,' I remember he told me once. Then, more than forty years ago, came +the gold-rush away up in the Stikine River country. They went. They joined +a little party of twelve—ten men and two women. This party wandered far +out of the beaten paths of the other gold-seekers. And at last they found +gold."</p> + +<p>Ahead of them Donald MacDonald had turned in his saddle and was looking +back. For a moment Aldous ceased speaking.</p> + +<p>"Please—go on!" said Joanne.</p> + +<p>"They found gold," repeated Aldous. "They found so much of it, Ladygray, +that some of them went mad—mad as beasts. It was placer gold—loose gold, +and MacDonald says that one day he and Jane filled their pockets with +nuggets. Then something happened. A great storm came; a storm that filled +the mountains with snow through which no living creature as heavy as a man +or a horse could make its way. It came a month earlier than they had +expected, and from the beginning they were doomed. Their supplies were +almost gone.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you the horrors of the weeks and months that followed, as old +Donald has told them to me, Joanne. You must imagine. Only, when you are +deep in the mountains, and the snow comes, you are like a rat in a trap. So +they were caught—eleven men and three women. They who could make their +beds in sheets of yellow gold, but who had no food. The horses were lost in +the storm. Two of their frozen carcasses were found and used for food. Two +of the men set out on snowshoes, leaving their gold behind, and probably +died.</p> + +<p>"Then the first terrible thing happened. Two men quarrelled over a can of +beans, and one was killed. He was the husband of one of the women. The next +terrible thing happened to her—and there was a fight. On one side there +were young Donald and the husband of the other woman; on the other +side—the beasts. The husband was killed, and Donald and Jane sought refuge +in the log cabin they had built. That night they fled, taking what little +food they possessed, and what blankets they could carry. They knew they +were facing death. But they went together, hand in hand.</p> + +<p>"At last Donald found a great cave in the side of a mountain. I have a +picture of that cave in my brain—a deep, warm cave, with a floor of soft +white sand, a cave into which the two exhausted fugitives stumbled, still +hand in hand, and which was home. But they found it a little too late. +Three days later Jane died. And there is another picture in my brain—a +picture of young Donald sitting there in the cave, clasping in his arms the +cold form of the one creature in the world that he loved; moaning and +sobbing over her, calling upon her to come back to life, to open her eyes, +to speak to him—until at last his brain cracked and he went mad. That is +what happened. He went mad."</p> + +<p>Joanne's breath was coming brokenly through her lips. Unconsciously she had +clasped her fingers about the hand Aldous rested on her pommel.</p> + +<p>"How long he remained in the cave with his dead, MacDonald has never been +able to say," he resumed.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know whether he buried his wife or left her lying on the sand +floor of the cave. He doesn't know how he got out of the mountains. But he +did, and his mind came back. And since then, Joanne—for a matter of forty +years—his life has been spent in trying to find that cave. All those years +his search was unavailing. He could find no trace of the little hidden +valley in which the treasure-seekers found their bonanza of gold. No word +of it ever came out of the mountains; no other prospector ever stumbled +upon it. Year after year Donald went into the North; year after year he +came out as the winter set in, but he never gave up hope.</p> + +<p>"Then he began spending winter as well as summer in that forgotten +world—forgotten because the early gold-rush was over, and the old +Telegraph trail was travelled more by wolves than men. And always, Donald +has told me, his beloved Jane's spirit was with him in his wanderings over +the mountains, her hand leading him, her voice whispering to him in the +loneliness of the long nights. Think of it, Joanne! Forty years of that! +Forty years of a strange, beautiful madness, forty years of undying love, +of faith, of seeking and never finding! And this spring old Donald came +almost to the end of his quest. He knows, now; he knows where that little +treasure valley is hidden in the mountains, he knows where to find the +cave!"</p> + +<p>"He found her—he found her?" she cried. "After all those years—he found +her?"</p> + +<p>"Almost," said Aldous softly. "But the great finale in the tragedy of +Donald MacDonald's life is yet to come, Ladygray. It will come when once +more he stands in the soft white sand of that cavern floor, and sometimes +I tremble when I think that when that moment comes I will be at his side. +To me it will be terrible. To him it will be—what? That hour has not quite +arrived. It happened this way: Old Donald was coming down from the North on +the early slush snows this spring when he came to a shack in which a man +was almost dead of the smallpox. It was DeBar, the half-breed.</p> + +<p>"Fearlessly MacDonald nursed him. He says it was God who sent him to that +shack. For DeBar, in his feverish ravings, revealed the fact that he had +stumbled upon that little Valley of Gold for which MacDonald had searched +through forty years. Old Donald knew it was the same valley, for the +half-breed raved of dead men, of rotting buckskin sacks of yellow nuggets, +of crumbling log shacks, and of other things the memories of which stabbed +like knives into Donald's heart. How he fought to save that man! And, at +last, he succeeded.</p> + +<p>"They continued south, planning to outfit and go back for the gold. They +would have gone back at once, but they had no food and no horses. Foot by +foot, in the weeks that followed, DeBar described the way to the hidden +valley, until at last MacDonald knew that he could go to it as straight as +an eagle to its nest. When they reached Tête Jaune he came to me. And I +promised to go with him, Ladygray—back to the Valley of Gold. He calls it +that; but I—I think of it as The Valley of Silent Men. It is not the gold, +but the cavern with the soft white floor that is calling us."</p> + +<p>In her saddle Joanne had straightened. Her head was thrown back, her lips +were parted, and her eyes shone as the eyes of a Joan of Arc must have +shone when she stood that day before the Hosts.</p> + +<p>"And this man, the half-breed, has sold himself—for a woman?" she said, +looking straight ahead at the bent shoulders of old MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for a woman. Do you ask me why I go now? Why I shall fight, if +fighting there must be?"</p> + +<p>She turned to him. Her face was a blaze of glory.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" she cried. "Oh, John Aldous! if I were only a man, that I +might go with you and stand with you two in that Holy Sepulchre—the +Cavern—— If I were a man, I'd go—and, yes, I would fight!"</p> + +<p>And Donald MacDonald, looking back, saw the two clasping hands across the +trail. A moment later he turned his horse from the broad road into a narrow +trail that led over the range.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br> + +<p>From the hour in which she had listened to the story of old MacDonald a +change seemed to have come over Joanne. It was as if she had risen out of +herself, out of whatever fear or grief she might have possessed in her own +heart. John Aldous knew that there was some deep significance in her visit +to the grave under the Saw Tooth Mountain, and that from the beginning she +had been fighting under a tremendous mental and physical strain. He had +expected this day would be a terrible day for her; he had seen her efforts +to strengthen herself for the approaching crisis that morning. He believed +that as they drew nearer to their journey's end her suspense and +uneasiness, the fear which she was trying to keep from him, would, in spite +of her, become more and more evident. For these reasons the change which he +saw in her was not only delightfully unexpected but deeply puzzling. She +seemed to be under the influence of some new and absorbing excitement. Her +cheeks were flushed. There was a different poise to her head; in her voice, +too, there was a note which he had not noticed before.</p> + +<p>It struck him, all at once, that this was a new Joanne—a Joanne who, at +least for a brief spell, had broken the bondage of oppression and fear that +had fettered her. In the narrow trail up the mountain he rode behind her, +and in this he found a pleasure even greater than when he rode at her +side. Only when her face was turned from him did he dare surrender himself +at all to the emotions which had transformed his soul. From behind he could +look at her, and worship without fear of discovery. Every movement of her +slender, graceful body gave him a new and exquisite thrill; every dancing +light and every darkening shadow in her shimmering hair added to the joy +that no fear or apprehension could overwhelm within him now. Only in those +wonderful moments, when her presence was so near, and yet her eyes did not +see him, could he submerge himself completely in the thought of what she +had become to him and of what she meant to him.</p> + +<p>During the first hour of their climb over the break that led into the +valley beyond they had but little opportunity for conversation. The trail +was an abandoned Indian path, narrow, and in places extremely steep. Twice +Aldous helped Joanne from her horse that she might travel afoot over places +which he considered dangerous. When he assisted her in the saddle again, +after a stiff ascent of a hundred yards, she was panting from her exertion, +and he felt the sweet thrill of her breath in his face. For a space his +happiness obliterated all thoughts of other things. It was MacDonald who +brought them back.</p> + +<p>They had reached the summit of the break, and through his long brass +telescope the old mountaineer was scanning the valley out of which they had +come. Under them lay Tête Jaune, gleaming in the morning sun, and it dawned +suddenly upon Aldous that this was the spot from which MacDonald had spied +upon his enemies. He looked at Joanne. She was breathing quickly as she +looked upon the wonder of the scene below them. Suddenly she turned, and +encountered his eyes.</p> + +<p>"They might—follow?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No danger of that," he assured her.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had dismounted, and now he lay crouched behind a rock, with his +telescope resting over the top of it. He had leaned his long rifle against +the boulder; his huge forty-four, a relic of the old Indian days, hung at +his hip. Joanne saw these omens of preparedness, and her eyes shifted again +to Aldous. His .303 swung from his saddle. At his waist was the heavy +automatic. She smiled. In her eyes was understanding, and something like a +challenge. She did not question him again, but under her gaze Aldous +flushed.</p> + +<p>A moment later MacDonald closed his telescope and without a word mounted +his horse. Where the descent into the second valley began he paused again. +To the north through the haze of the morning sun gleamed the snow-capped +peaks of the Saw Tooth Range. Apparently not more than an hour's ride +distant rose a huge red sandstone giant which seemed to shut in the end of +the valley MacDonald stretched forth a long arm in its direction.</p> + +<p>"What we're seekin' is behind that mountain," he said. "It's ten miles from +here." He turned to the girl. "Are you gettin' lame, Mis' Joanne?"</p> + +<p>Aldous saw her lips tighten.</p> + +<p>"No. Let us go on, please."</p> + +<p>She was staring fixedly at the sombre red mass of the mountain. Her eyes +did not take in the magnificent sweep of the valley below. They saw +nothing of the snow-capped peaks beyond. There was something wild and +unnatural in their steady gaze. Aldous dropped behind her as they began the +gradual descent from the crest of the break and his own heart began to beat +more apprehensively; the old question flashed back upon him, and he felt +again the oppression that once before had held him in its grip. His eyes +did not leave Joanne. And always she was staring at the mountain behind +which lay the thing they were seeking! It was not Joanne herself that set +his blood throbbing. Her face had not paled. Its colour was like the hectic +flush of a fever. Her eyes alone betrayed her; their strange intensity—the +almost painful steadiness with which they hung to the distant mountain, and +a dread of what was to come seized upon him. Again he found himself asking +himself questions which he could not answer. Why had Joanne not confided +more fully in him? What was the deeper significance of this visit to the +grave, and of her mission in the mountains?</p> + +<p>Down the narrow Indian trail they passed into the thick spruce timber. Half +an hour later they came out into the grassy creek bottom of the valley. +During that time Joanne did not look behind her, and John Aldous did not +speak. MacDonald turned north, and the sandstone mountain was straight +ahead of them. It was not like the other mountains. There was something +sinister and sullen about it. It was ugly and broken. No vegetation grew +upon it, and through the haze of sunlight its barren sides and battlemented +crags gleamed a dark and humid red after the morning mists, as if freshly +stained with blood. Aldous guessed its effect upon Joanne, and he +determined to put an end to it. Again he rode up close beside her.</p> + +<p>"I want you to get better acquainted with old Donald," he said. "We're sort +of leaving him out in the cold, Ladygray. Do you mind if I tell him to come +back and ride with you for a while?"</p> + +<p>"I've been wanting to talk with him," she replied. "If you don't mind——"</p> + +<p>"I don't," he broke in quickly. "You'll love old Donald, Ladygray. And, if +you can, I'd like to have you tell him all that you know about—Jane. Let +him know that I told you."</p> + +<p>She nodded. Her lips trembled in a smile.</p> + +<p>"I will," she said.</p> + +<p>A moment later Aldous was telling MacDonald that Joanne wanted him. The old +mountaineer stared. He drew his pipe from his mouth, beat out its +half-burned contents, and thrust it into its accustomed pocket.</p> + +<p>"She wants to see me?" he asked. "God bless her soul—what for?"</p> + +<p>"Because she thinks you're lonesome up here alone, Mac. And look +here"—Aldous leaned over to MacDonald—"her nerves are ready to snap. I +know it. There's a mighty good reason why I can't relieve the strain she is +under. But you can. She's thinking every minute of that mountain up there +and the grave behind it. You go back, and talk. Tell her about the first +time you ever came up through these valleys—you and Jane. Will you, Mac? +Will you tell her that?"</p> + +<p>MacDonald did not reply, but he dropped behind. Aldous took up the lead. A +few minutes later he looked back, and laughed softly under his breath. +Joanne and the old hunter were riding side by side in the creek bottom, and +Joanne was talking. He looked at his watch. He did not look at it again +until the first gaunt, red shoulder of the sandstone mountain began to loom +over them. An hour had passed since he left Joanne. Ahead of him, perhaps a +mile distant, was the cragged spur beyond which—according to the sketch +Keller had drawn for him at the engineers' camp—was the rough canyon +leading back to the basin on the far side of the mountain. He had almost +reached this when MacDonald rode up.</p> + +<p>"You go back, Johnny," he said, a singular softness in his hollow voice. +"We're a'most there."</p> + +<p>He cast his eyes over the western peaks, where dark clouds were shouldering +their way up in the face of the sun, and added:</p> + +<p>"There's rain in that. I'll trot on ahead with Pinto and have a tent ready +when you come. I reckon it can't be more'n a mile up the canyon."</p> + +<p>"And the grave, Mac?"</p> + +<p>"Is right close to where I'll pitch the tent," said MacDonald, swinging +suddenly behind the pack-horse Pinto, and urging him into a trot. "Don't +waste any time, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Aldous rode back to Joanne.</p> + +<p>"It looks like rain," he explained. "These Pacific showers come up quickly +this side of the Divide, and they drench you in a jiffy. Donald is going on +ahead to put up a tent."</p> + +<p>By the time they reached the mouth of the canyon MacDonald was out of +sight. A little creek that was a swollen torrent in spring time trickled +out of the gorge. Its channel was choked with a chaotic confusion of +sandstone rock and broken slate, and up through this Aldous carefully +picked his way, followed closely by Joanne. The sky continued to darken +above them, until at last the sun died out, and a thick and almost palpable +gloom began to envelop them. Low thunder rolled through the mountains in +sullen, rumbling echoes. He looked back at Joanne, and was amazed to see +her eyes shining, and a smile on her lips as she nodded at him.</p> + +<p>"It makes me think of Henrik Hudson and his ten-pin players," she called +softly. "And ahead of us—is Rip Van Winkle!"</p> + +<p>The first big drops were beginning to fall when they came to an open place. +The gorge swung to the right; on their left the rocks gave place to a +rolling meadow of buffalo grass, and Aldous knew they had reached the +basin. A hundred yards up the slope was a fringe of timber, and as he +looked he saw smoke rising out of this. The sound of MacDonald's axe came +to them. He turned to Joanne, and he saw that she understood. They were at +their journey's end. Perhaps her fingers gripped her rein a little more +tightly. Perhaps it was imagination that made him think there was a slight +tremble in her voice when she said:</p> + +<p>"This—is the place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It should be just above the timber. I believe I can see the upper +break of the little box canyon Keller told me about."</p> + +<p>She rode without speaking until they entered the timber. They were just in +time. As he lifted her down from her horse the clouds opened, and the rain +fell in a deluge. Her hair was wet when he got her in the tent. MacDonald +had spread out a number of blankets, but he had disappeared. Joanne sank +down upon them with a little shiver. She looked up at Aldous. It was almost +dark in the tent, and her eyes were glowing strangely. Over them the +thunder crashed deafeningly. For a few minutes it was a continual roar, +shaking the mountains with mighty reverberations that were like the +explosions of giant guns. Aldous stood holding the untied flap against the +beat of the rain. Twice he saw Joanne's lips form words. At last he heard +her say:</p> + +<p>"Where is Donald?"</p> + +<p>He tied the flap, and dropped down on the edge of the blankets before he +answered her.</p> + +<p>"Probably out in the open watching the lightning, and letting the rain +drench him," he said. "I've never known old Donald to come in out of a +rain, unless it was cold. He was tying up the horses when I ran in here +with you."</p> + +<p>He believed she was shivering, yet he knew she was not cold. In the half +gloom of the tent he wanted to reach over and take her hand.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes longer there was no break in the steady downpour and the +crashing of the thunder. Then, as suddenly as the storm had broken, it +began to subside. Aldous rose and flung back the tent-flap.</p> + +<p>"It is almost over," he said. "You had better remain in the tent a little +longer, Ladygray. I will go out and see if MacDonald has succeeded in +drowning himself."</p> + +<p>Joanne did not answer, and Aldous stepped outside. He knew where to find +the old hunter. He had gone up to the end of the timber, and probably this +minute was in the little box canyon searching for the grave. It was a +matter of less than a hundred yards to the upper fringe of timber, and when +Aldous came out of this he stood on the summit of the grassy divide that +separated the tiny lake Keller had described from the canyon. It was less +than a rifle shot distant, and on the farther side of it MacDonald was +already returning. Aldous hurried down to meet him. He did not speak when +they met, but his companion answered the question in his eyes, while the +water dripped in streams from his drenched hair and beard.</p> + +<p>"It's there," he said, pointing back. "Just behind that big black rock. +There's a slab over it, an' you've got the name right. It's Mortimer +FitzHugh."</p> + +<p>Above them the clouds were splitting asunder. A shaft of sunlight broke +through, and as they stood looking over the little lake the shaft +broadened, and the sun swept in golden triumph over the mountains. +MacDonald beat his limp hat against his knee, and with his other hand +drained the water from his beard.</p> + +<p>"What you goin' to do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Aldous turned toward the timber. Joanne herself answered the question. She +was coming up the slope. In a few moments she stood beside them. First she +looked down upon the lake. Then her eyes turned to Aldous. There was no +need for speech. He held out his hand, and without hesitation she gave him +her own. MacDonald understood. He walked down ahead of them toward the +black rock. When he came to the rock he paused. Aldous and Joanne passed +him. Then they, too, stopped, and Aldous freed the girl's hand.</p> + +<p>With an unexpectedness that was startling they had come upon the grave. Yet +not a sound escaped Joanne's lips. Aldous could not see that she was +breathing. Less than ten paces from them was the mound, protected by its +cairn of stones; and over the stones rose a weather-stained slab in the +form of a cross. One glance at the grave and Aldous riveted his eyes upon +Joanne. For a full minute she stood as motionless as though the last breath +had left her body. Then, slowly, she advanced. He could not see her face. +He followed, quietly, step by step as she moved. For another minute she +leaned over the slab, making out the fine-seared letters of the name. Her +body was bent forward; her two hands were clenched tightly at her side. +Even more slowly than she had advanced she turned toward Aldous and +MacDonald. Her face was dead white. She lifted her hands to her breast, and +clenched them there.</p> + +<p>"It is his name," she said, and there was something repressed and terrible +in her low voice. "It is his name!"</p> + +<p>She was looking straight into the eyes of John Aldous, and he saw that she +was fighting to say something which she had not spoken. Suddenly she came +to him, and her two hands caught his arm.</p> + +<p>"It is terrible—what I am going to ask of you," she struggled. "You will +think I am a ghoul. But I must have proof! I must—I must!"</p> + +<p>She was staring wildly at him, and all at once there leapt fiercely through +him a dawning of the truth. The name was there, seared by hot iron in that +slab of wood. The name! But under the cairn of stones——</p> + +<p>Behind them MacDonald had heard. He towered beside them now. His great +mountain-twisted hands drew Joanne a step back, and strange gentleness was +in his voice as he said:</p> + +<p>"You an' Johnny go back an' build a fire, Mis' Joanne. I'll find the +proof!"</p> + +<p>"Come," said Aldous, and he held out his hand again.</p> + +<p>MacDonald hurried on ahead of them. When they reached the camp he was gone, +so that Joanne did not see the pick and shovel which he carried back. She +went into the tent and Aldous began building a fire where MacDonald's had +been drowned out. There was little reason for a fire; but he built it, and +for fifteen minutes added pitch-heavy fagots of storm-killed jack-pine and +spruce to it, until the flames leapt a dozen feet into the air. Half a +dozen times he was impelled to return to the grave and assist MacDonald in +his gruesome task. But he knew that MacDonald had meant that he should stay +with Joanne. If he returned, she might follow.</p> + +<p>He was surprised at the quickness with which MacDonald performed his work. +Not more than half an hour had passed when a low whistle drew his eyes to a +clump of dwarf spruce back in the timber. The mountaineer was standing +there, holding something in his hand. With a backward glance to see that +Joanne had not come from the tent, Aldous hastened to him. What he could +see of MacDonald's face was the lifeless colour of gray ash. His eyes +stared as if he had suffered a strange and unexpected shock. He went to +speak, but no words came through his beard. In his hand he held his faded +red neck-handkerchief. He gave it to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't deep," he said. "It was shallow, turribly shallow, Johnny—just +under the stone!"</p> + +<p>His voice was husky and unnatural.</p> + +<p>There was something heavy in the handkerchief, and a shudder passed through +Aldous as he placed it on the palm of his hand and unveiled its contents. +He could not repress an exclamation when he saw what MacDonald had brought. +In his hand, with a single thickness of the wet handkerchief between the +objects and his flesh, lay a watch and a ring. The watch was of gold. It +was tarnished, but he could see there were initials, which he could not +make out, engraved on the back of the case. The ring, too, was of gold. It +was one of the most gruesome ornaments Aldous had ever seen. It was in the +form of a coiled and writhing serpent, wide enough to cover half of one's +middle finger between the joints. Again the eyes of the two men met, and +again Aldous observed that strange, stunned look in the old hunter's face. +He turned and walked back toward the tent, MacDonald following him slowly, +still staring, his long gaunt arms and hands hanging limply at his side.</p> + +<p>Joanne heard them, and came out of the tent. A choking cry fell from her +lips when she saw MacDonald. For a moment one of her hands clutched at the +wet canvas of the tent, and then she swayed forward, knowing what John +Aldous had in his hand. He stood voiceless while she looked. In that tense +half-minute when she stared at the objects he held it seemed to him that +her heart-strings must snap under the strain. Then she drew back from +them, her eyes filled with horror, her hands raised as if to shut out the +sight of them, and a panting, sobbing cry broke from between her pallid +lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "Take them away—take them away!"</p> + +<p>She staggered back to the tent, and stood there with her hands covering her +face. Aldous turned to the old hunter and gave him the things he held.</p> + +<p>A moment later he stood alone where the three had been, staring now as +Joanne had stared, his heart beating wildly.</p> + +<p>For Joanne, in entering the tent, had uncovered her face; it was not grief +that he saw there, but the soul of a woman new-born. And as his own soul +responded in a wild rejoicing, MacDonald, going over the summit and down +into the hollow, mumbled in his beard:</p> + +<p>"God ha' mercy on me! I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny, an' because she's +like my Jane!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br> + +<p>Plunged from one extreme of mental strain to another excitement that was as +acute in its opposite effect, John Aldous stood and stared at the tent-flap +that had dropped behind Joanne. Only a flash he had caught of her face; but +in that flash he had seen the living, quivering joyousness of freedom +blazing where a moment before there had been only horror and fear. As if +ashamed of her own betrayal, Joanne had darted into the tent. She had +answered his question a thousand times more effectively than if she had +remained to tell him with her lips that MacDonald's proofs were +sufficient—that the grave in the little box canyon had not disappointed +her. She had recognized the ring and the watch; from them she had shrank in +horror, as if fearing that the golden serpent might suddenly leap into life +and strike.</p> + +<p>In spite of the mightiest efforts she might have made for self-control +Aldous had seen in her tense and tortured face a look that was more than +either dread or shock—it was abhorrence, hatred. And his last glimpse of +her face had revealed those things gone, and in their place the strange joy +she had run into the tent to hide. That she should rejoice over the dead, +or that the grim relics from the grave should bring that new dawn into her +face and eyes, did not strike him as shocking. In Joanne his sun had +already begun to rise and set. He had come to understand that for her the +grave must hold its dead; that the fact of death, death under the slab that +bore Mortimer FitzHugh's name, meant life for her, just as it meant life +and all things for him. He had prayed for it, even while he dreaded that it +might not be. In him all things were now submerged in the wild thought that +Joanne was free, and the grave had been the key to her freedom.</p> + +<p>A calmness began to possess him that was in singular contrast to the +perturbed condition of his mind a few minutes before. From this hour Joanne +was his to fight for, to win if he could; and, knowing this, his soul rose +in triumph above his first physical exultation, and he fought back the +almost irresistible impulse to follow her into the tent and tell her what +this day had meant for him. Following this came swiftly a realization of +what it had meant for her—the suspense, the terrific strain, the final +shock and gruesome horror of it. He was sure, without seeing, that she was +huddled down on the blankets in the tent. She had passed through an ordeal +under which a strong man might have broken, and the picture he had of her +struggle in there alone turned him from the tent filled with a +determination to make her believe that the events of the morning, both with +him and MacDonald, were easily forgotten.</p> + +<p>He began to whistle as he threw back the wet canvas from over the camp +outfit that had been taken from Pinto's back. In one of the two cow-hide +panniers he saw that thoughtful old Donald had packed materials for their +dinner, as well as utensils necessary for its preparation. That dinner they +would have in the valley, well beyond the red mountain. He began to repack, +whistling cheerily. He was still whistling when MacDonald returned. He +broke off sharply when he saw the other's face.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Mac?" he asked. "You sick?"</p> + +<p>"It weren't pleasant, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Aldous nodded toward the tent.</p> + +<p>"It was—beastly," he whispered. "But we can't let her feel that way about +it, Mac. Cheer up—and let's get out of this place. We'll have dinner +somewhere over in the valley."</p> + +<p>They continued packing until only the tent remained to be placed on Pinto's +back. Aldous resumed his loud whistling as he tightened up the +saddle-girths, and killed time in half a dozen other ways. A quarter of an +hour passed. Still Joanne did not appear. Aldous scratched his head +dubiously, and looked at the tent.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to disturb her, Mac," he said in a low voice. "Let's keep up +the bluff of being busy. We can put out the fire."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, sweating and considerably smokegrimed, Aldous again +looked toward the tent.</p> + +<p>"We might cut down a few trees," suggested MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Or play leap-frog," added Aldous.</p> + +<p>"The trees'd sound more natcherel," said MacDonald. "We could tell her——"</p> + +<p>A stick snapped behind them. Both turned at the same instant. Joanne stood +facing them not ten feet away.</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!" gasped Aldous. "Joanne, I thought you were in the tent!"</p> + +<p>The beautiful calmness in Joanne's face amazed him. He stared at her as he +spoke, forgetting altogether the manner in which he had intended to greet +her when she came from the tent.</p> + +<p>"I went out the back way—lifted the canvas and crawled under just like a +boy," she explained. "And I've walked until my feet are wet."</p> + +<p>"And the fire is out!"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind wet feet," she hurried to assure him.</p> + +<p>Old Donald was already at work pulling the tent-pegs. Joanne came close to +Aldous, and he saw again that deep and wonderful light in her eyes. This +time he knew that she meant he should see it, and words which he had +determined not to speak fell softly from his lips.</p> + +<p>"You are no longer afraid, Ladygray? That which you dreaded——"</p> + +<p>"Is dead," she said. "And you, John Aldous? Without knowing, seeing me only +as you have seen me, do you think that I am terrible?"</p> + +<p>"No, could not think that."</p> + +<p>Her hand touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"Will you go out there with me, in the sunlight, where we can look down +upon the little lake?" she asked. "Until to-day I had made up my mind that +no one but myself would ever know the truth. But you have been good to me, +and I must tell you—about myself—about him."</p> + +<p>He found no answer. He left no word with MacDonald. Until they stood on the +grassy knoll, with the lakelet shimmering in the sunlight below them, +Joanne herself did not speak again. Then, with a little gesture, she said:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think what is down there is dreadful to me. It isn't. I shall +always remember that little lake, almost as Donald remembers the +cavern—not because it watches over something I love, but because it guards +a thing that in life would have destroyed me! I know how you must feel, +John Aldous—that deep down in your heart you must wonder at a woman who +can rejoice in the death of another human creature. Yet death, and death +alone, has been the key from bondage of millions of souls that have lived +before mine; and there are men—men, too—whose lives have been warped and +destroyed because death did not come to save them. One was my father. If +death had come for him, if it had taken my mother, that down there would +never have happened—for me!"</p> + +<p>She spoke the terrible words so quietly, so calmly, that it was impossible +for him entirely to conceal their effect upon him. There was a bit of +pathos in her smile.</p> + +<p>"My mother drove my father mad," she went on, with a simple directness that +was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard come from human lips. "The +world did not know that he was mad. It called him eccentric. But he was +mad—in just one way. I was nine years old when it happened, and I can +remember our home most vividly. It was a beautiful home. And my father! +Need I tell you that I worshipped him—that to me he was king of all men? +And as deeply as I loved him, so, in another way, he worshipped my mother. +She was beautiful. In a curious sort of way I used to wonder, as a child, +how it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful. It was a dark beauty—a +recurrence of French strain in her English blood.</p> + +<p>"One day I overheard my father tell her that, if she died, he would kill +himself. He was not of the passionate, over-sentimental kind; he was a +philosopher, a scientist, calm and self-contained—and I remembered those +words later, when I had outgrown childhood, as one of a hundred proofs of +how devoutly he had loved her. It was more than love, I believe. It was +adoration. I was nine, I say, when things happened. Another man, a divorce, +and on the day of the divorce this woman, my mother, married her lover. +Somewhere in my father's brain a single thread snapped, and from that day +he was mad—mad on but one subject; and so deep and intense was his madness +that it became a part of me as the years passed, and to-day I, too, am +possessed of that madness. And it is the one greatest thing in the world +that I am proud of, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>Not once had her voice betrayed excitement or emotion. Not once had it +risen above its normal tone; and in her eyes, as they turned from the lake +to him, there was the tranquillity of a child.</p> + +<p>"And that madness," she resumed, "was the madness of a man whose brain and +soul were overwrought in one colossal hatred—a hatred of divorce and the +laws that made it possible. It was born in him in a day, and it lived until +his death. It turned him from the paths of men, and we became wanderers +upon the face of the earth. Two years after the ruin of our home my mother +and the man she had married died in a ship that was lost at sea. This had +no effect upon my father. Possibly you will not understand what grew up +between us in the years and years that followed. To the end he was a +scientist, a man seeking after the unknown, and my education came to be a +composite of teachings gathered in all parts of the world. We were never +apart. We were more than father and daughter; we were friends, +comrades—he was my world, and I was his.</p> + +<p>"I recall, as I became older, how his hatred of that thing that had broken +our home developed more and more strongly in me. His mind was titanic. A +thousand times I pleaded with him to employ it in the great fight I wanted +him to make—a fight against the crime divorce. I know, now, why he did +not. He was thinking of me. Only one thing he asked of me. It was more than +a request. It was a command. And this command, and my promise, was that so +long as I lived—no matter what might happen in my life—I would sacrifice +myself body and soul sooner than allow that black monster of divorce to +fasten its clutches on me. It is futile for me to tell you these things, +John Aldous. It is impossible—you cannot understand!"</p> + +<p>"I can," he replied, scarcely above a whisper. "Joanne, I begin—to +understand!"</p> + +<p>And still without emotion, her voice as calm as the unruffled lake at their +feet, she continued:</p> + +<p>"It grew in me. It is a part of me now. I hate divorce as I hate the worst +sin that bars one from Heaven. It is the one thing I hate. And it is +because of this hatred that I suffered myself to remain the wife of the man +whose name is over that grave down there—Mortimer FitzHugh. It came about +strangely—what I am going to tell you now. You will wonder. You will think +I was insane. But remember, John Aldous—the world had come to hold but one +friend and comrade for me, and he was my father. It was after Mindano. He +caught the fever, and he was dying."</p> + +<p>For the first time her breath choked her. It was only for an instant. She +recovered herself, and went on:</p> + +<p>"Out of the world my father had left he had kept one friend—Richard +FitzHugh; and this man, with his son, was with us during those terrible +days of fever. I met Mortimer as I had met a thousand other men. His +father, I thought, was the soul of honour, and I accepted the son as such. +We were much together during those two weeks of my despair, and he seemed +to be attentive and kind. Then came the end. My father was dying. And I—I +was ready to die. In his last moments his one thought was of me. He knew I +was alone, and the fear of it terrified him. I believe he did not realize +then what he was asking of me. He pleaded with me to marry the son of his +old friend before he died. And I—John Aldous, I could not fight his last +wish as he lay dying before my eyes. We were married there at his bedside. +He joined our hands. And the words he whispered to me last of all were: +'Remember—Joanne—thy promise and thine honour!'"</p> + +<p>For a moment Joanne stood facing the little lake, and when she spoke again +there was a note of thankfulness, of subdued joy and triumph, in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Before that day had ended I had displeased Mortimer FitzHugh," she said, +and Aldous saw the fingers of her hands close tightly. "I told him that +until a month had passed I would not live with him as a wife lives with her +husband. And he was displeased. And my father was not yet buried! I was +shocked. My soul revolted.</p> + +<p>"We went to London and I was made welcome in the older FitzHugh's wifeless +home, and the papers told of our wedding. And two days later there came +from Devonshire a woman—a sweet-faced little woman with sick, haunted +eyes; in her arms she brought a baby; and that baby <i>was Mortimer +FitzHugh's!</i></p> + +<p>"We confronted him—the mother, the baby, and I; and then I knew that he +was a fiend. And the father was a fiend. They offered to buy the woman off, +to support her and the child. They told me that many English gentlemen had +made mistakes like this, and that it was nothing—that it was quite common. +Mortimer FitzHugh had never touched me with his lips, and now, when he came +to touch me with his hands, I struck him. It was a serpent's house, and I +left it.</p> + +<p>"My father had left me a comfortable fortune, and I went into a house of my +own. Day after day they came to me, and I knew that they feared I was going +to secure a divorce. During the six months that followed I learned other +things about the man who was legally my husband. He was everything that was +vile. Brazenly he went into public places with women of dishonour, and I +hid my face in shame.</p> + +<p>"His father died, and for a time Mortimer FitzHugh became one of the +talked-about spendthrifts of London. Swiftly he gambled and dissipated +himself into comparative poverty. And now, learning that I would not get a +divorce, he began to regard me as a slave in chains. I remember, one time, +that he succeeded in laying his hands on me, and they were like the touch +of things that were slimy and poisonous. He laughed at my revulsion. He +demanded money of me, and to keep him away from me I gave it to him. Again +and again he came for money; I suffered as I cannot tell you, but never +once in my misery did I weaken in my promise to my father and to myself. +But—at last—I ran away.</p> + +<p>"I went to Egypt, and then to India. A year later I learned that Mortimer +FitzHugh had gone to America, and I returned to London. For two years I +heard nothing of him; but day and night I lived in fear and dread. And then +came the news that he had died, as you read in the newspaper clipping. I +was free! For a year I believed that; and then, like a shock that had come +to destroy me, I was told that he <i>was not dead</i> but that he was alive, and +in a place called Tête Jaune Cache, in British Columbia. I could not live +in the terrible suspense that followed. I determined to find out for myself +if he was alive or dead. And so I came, John Aldous. And he is dead. He is +down there—dead. And I am glad that he is dead!"</p> + +<p>"And if he was not dead," said Aldous quietly, "I would kill him!"</p> + +<p>He could find nothing more to say than that. He dared trust himself no +further, and in silence he held out his hands, and for a moment Joanne gave +him her own. Then she withdrew them, and with a little gesture, and the +smile which he loved to see trembling about her mouth, she said:</p> + +<p>"Donald will think this is scandalous. We must go back and apologize!"</p> + +<p>She led him down the slope, and her face was filled with the pink flush of +a wild rose when she ran up to Donald, and asked him to help her into her +saddle. John Aldous rode like one in a dream as they went back into the +valley, for with each minute that passed Joanne seemed more and more to +him like a beautiful bird that had escaped from its prison-cage, and in him +mind and soul were absorbed in the wonder of it and in his own rejoicing. +She was free, and in her freedom she was happy!</p> + +<p>Free! It was that thought that pounded steadily in his brain. He forgot +Quade, and Culver Rann, and the gold; he forgot his own danger, his own +work, almost his own existence. Of a sudden the world had become +infinitesimally small for him, and all he could see was the soft shimmer of +Joanne's hair in the sun, the wonder of her face, the marvellous blue of +her eyes—and all he could hear was the sweet thrill of her voice when she +spoke to him or old Donald, and when, now and then, soft laughter trembled +on her lips in the sheer joy of the life that had dawned anew for her this +day.</p> + +<p>They stopped for dinner, and then went on over the range and down into the +valley where lay Tête Jaune. And all this time he fought to keep from +flaming in his own face the desire that was like a hot fire within him—the +desire to go to Joanne and tell her that he loved her as he had never +dreamed it possible for love to exist in the whole wide world. He knew that +to surrender to that desire in this hour would be something like sacrilege. +He did not guess that Joanne saw his struggle, that even old MacDonald +mumbled low words in his beard. When they came at last to Blackton's +bungalow he thought that he had kept this thing from her, and he did not +see—and would not have understood if he had seen—the wonderful and +mysterious glow in Joanne's eyes when she kissed Peggy Blackton.</p> + +<p>Blackton had come in from the work-end, dust-covered and jubilant.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you folks have returned," he cried, beaming with enthusiasm as he +gripped Aldous by the hand. "The last rock is packed, and to-night we're +going to shake the earth. We're going to blow up Coyote Number +Twenty-seven, and you won't forget the sight as long as you live!"</p> + +<p>Not until Joanne had disappeared into the house with Peggy Blackton did +Aldous feel that he had descended firmly upon his feet once more into a +matter-of-fact world. MacDonald was waiting with the horses, and Blackton +was pointing over toward the steel workers, and was saying something about +ten thousand pounds of black powder and dynamite and a mountain that had +stood a million years and was going to be blown up that night.</p> + +<p>"It's the best bit of work I've ever done, Aldous—that and Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. Peggy was going to touch the electric button to Twenty-seven +to-night, but we've decided to let Miss Gray do that, and Peggy'll fire +Twenty-eight to-morrow night. Twenty-eight is almost ready. If you say so, +the bunch of us will go over and see it in the morning. Mebby Miss Gray +would like to see for herself that a coyote isn't only an animal with a +bushy tail, but a cavern dug into rock an' filled with enough explosives to +play high jinks with all the navies in the world if they happened to be on +hand at the time. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Fine!" said Aldous.</p> + +<p>"And Peggy wants me to say that it's a matter of only common, every-day +decency on your part to make yourself our guest while here," added the +contractor, stuffing his pipe. "We've got plenty of room, enough to eat, +and a comfortable bed for you. You're going to be polite enough to accept, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," exclaimed Aldous, his blood tingling at the thought of +being near Joanne. "I've got some business with MacDonald and as soon as +that's over I'll domicile myself here. It's bully of you, Blackton! You +know——"</p> + +<p>"Why, dammit, of course I know!" chuckled Blackton, lighting his pipe. +"Can't I see, Aldous? D'ye think I'm blind? I was just as gone over Peggy +before I married her. Fact is, I haven't got over it yet—and never will. I +come up from the work four times a day regular to see her, and if I don't +come I have to send up word I'm safe. Peggy saw it first. She said it was a +shame to put you off in that cabin with Miss Gray away up here. I don't +want to stick my nose in your business, old man, but—by George!--I +congratulate you! I've only seen one lovelier woman in my life, and that's +Peggy."</p> + +<p>He thrust out a hand and pumped his friend's limp arm, and Aldous felt +himself growing suddenly warm under the other's chuckling gaze.</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake don't say anything, or act anything, old man," he +pleaded. "I'm—just—hoping."</p> + +<p>Blackton nodded with prodigious understanding in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Come along when you get through with MacDonald," he said. "I'm going in +and clean up for to-night's fireworks."</p> + +<p>A question was in Aldous' mind, but he did not put it in words. He wanted +to know about Quade and Culver Rann.</p> + +<p>"Blackton is such a ridiculously forgetful fellow at times that I don't +want to rouse his alarm," he said to MacDonald as they were riding toward +the corral a few minutes later. "He might let something out to Joanne and +his wife, and I've got reasons—mighty good reasons, Mac—for keeping this +affair as quiet as possible. We'll have to discover what Rann and Quade are +doing ourselves."</p> + +<p>MacDonald edged his horse in nearer to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"See here, Johnny, boy—tell me what's in your mind?"</p> + +<p>Aldous looked into the grizzled face, and there was something in the glow +of the old mountaineer's eyes that made him think of a father.</p> + +<p>"You know, Mac."</p> + +<p>Old Donald nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess I do, Johnny," he said in a low voice. "You think of Mis' +Joanne as I used to—to—think of <i>her</i>. I guess I know. But—what you +goin' to do?"</p> + +<p>Aldous shook his head, and for the first time that afternoon a look of +uneasiness and gloom overspread his face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mac. I'm not ashamed to tell you. I love her. If she were to +pass out of my life to-morrow I would ask for something that belonged to +her, and the spirit of her would live in it for me until I died. That's how +I care, Mac. But I've known her such a short time. I can't tell her yet. It +wouldn't be the square thing. And yet she won't remain in Tête Jaune very +long. Her mission is accomplished. And if—if she goes I can't very well +follow her, can I, Mac?"</p> + +<p>For a space old Donald was silent. Then he said, "You're thinkin' of me, +Johnny, an' what we was planning on?"</p> + +<p>"Partly."</p> + +<p>"Then don't any more. I'll stick to you, an' we'll stick to her. Only——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"If you could get Peggy Blackton to help you——"</p> + +<p>"You mean——" began Aldous eagerly.</p> + +<p>"That if Peggy Blackton got her to stay for a week—mebby ten +days—visitin' her, you know, it wouldn't be so bad if you told her then, +would it, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"By George, it wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"And I think——"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"Bein' an old man, an' seein' mebby what you don't see——"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"That she'd take you, Johnny."</p> + +<p>In his breast John's heart seemed suddenly to give a jump that choked him. +And while he stared ahead old Donald went on.</p> + +<p>"I've seen it afore, in a pair of eyes just like her eyes, Johnny—so soft +an' deeplike, like the sky up there when the sun's in it. I seen it when we +was ridin' behind an' she looked ahead at you, Johnny. I did. An' I've seen +it afore. An' I think——"</p> + +<p>Aldous waited, his heart-strings ready to snap.</p> + +<p>"An' I think—she likes you a great deal, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Aldous reached over and gripped MacDonald's hand.</p> + +<p>"The good Lord bless you, Donald! We'll stick! As for Quade and Culver +Rann——"</p> + +<p>"I've been thinkin' of them," interrupted MacDonald. "You haven't got time +to waste on them, Johnny. Leave 'em to me. If it's only a week you've got +to be close an' near by Mis' Joanne. I'll find out what Quade an' Rann are +doing, and what they're goin' to do. I've got a scheme. Will you leave 'em +to me?"</p> + +<p>Aldous nodded, and in the same breath informed MacDonald of Peggy +Blackton's invitation. The old hunter chuckled exultantly. He stopped his +horse, and Aldous halted.</p> + +<p>"It's workin' out fine, Johnny!" he exclaimed. "There ain't no need of you +goin' any further. We understand each other, and there ain't nothin' for +you to do at the corral. Jump off your horse and go back. If I want you +I'll come to the Blacktons' 'r send word, and if you want me I'll be at the +corral or the camp in the coulee. Jump off, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>Without further urging Aldous dismounted. They shook hands again, and +MacDonald drove on ahead of him the saddled horses and the pack. And as +Aldous turned back toward the bungalow old Donald was mumbling low in his +beard again, "God ha' mercy on me, but I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny—for +her an' Johnny!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br> + +<p>Half an hour later Blackton had shown Aldous to his room and bath. It was +four o'clock when he rejoined the contractor in the lower room, freshly +bathed and shaven and in a change of clothes. He had not seen Joanne, but +half a dozen times he had heard her and Peggy Blackton laughing and talking +in Mrs. Blackton's big room at the head of the stairs, and he heard them +now as they sat down to smoke their cigars. Blackton was filled with +enthusiasm over the accomplishment of his latest work, and Aldous tried +hard not to betray the fact that the minutes were passing with gruelling +slowness while he waited for Joanne. He wanted to see her. His heart was +beating like an excited boy's. He could hear her footsteps over his head, +and he distinguished her soft laughter, and her sweet voice when she spoke. +There was something tantalizing in her nearness and the fact that she did +not once show herself at the top of the stair. Blackton was still talking +about "coyotes" and dynamite when, an hour later, Aldous looked up, and his +heart gave a big, glad jump.</p> + +<p>Peggy Blackton, a plump little golden-haired vision of happiness, was +already half a dozen steps down the stairs. At the top Joanne, for an +instant, had paused. Through that space, before the contractor had turned, +her eyes met those of John Aldous. She was smiling. Her eyes were shining +at him. Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and +never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness. She was dressed +in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat, +and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous +way. Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she +had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the +lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck.</p> + +<p>For a moment, as Peggy Blackton went to her husband, he stood very close to +Joanne, and into his eyes she was smiling, half laughing, her beautiful +mouth aquiver, her eyes glowing, the last trace of their old suspense and +fear vanished in a new and wondrous beauty. He would not have said she was +twenty-eight now. He would have sworn she was twenty.</p> + +<p>"Joanne," he whispered, "you are wonderful. Your hair is glorious!"</p> + +<p>"Always—my hair," she replied, so low that he alone heard. "Can you never +see beyond my hair, John Aldous?"</p> + +<p>"I stop there," he said. "And I marvel. It is glorious!"</p> + +<p>"Again!" And up from her white throat there rose a richer, sweeter colour. +"If you say that again now, John Aldous, I shall never make curls for you +again as long as I live!"</p> + +<p>"For me——"</p> + +<p>His heart seemed near bursting with joy. But she had left him, and was +laughing with Peggy Blackton, who was showing her husband where he had +missed a stubbly patch of beard on his cheek. He caught her eyes, turned +swiftly to him, and they were laughing at him, and there came a sudden +pretty upturn to her chin as he continued to stare, and he saw again the +colour deepening in her face. When Peggy Blackton led her husband to the +stair, and drove him up to shave off the stubbly patch, Joanne found the +opportunity to whisper to him:</p> + +<p>"You are rude, John Aldous! You must not stare at me like that!"</p> + +<p>And as she spoke the rebellious colour was still in her face, in spite of +the tantalizing curve of her red lips and the sparkle in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," he pleaded. "You are—glorious!"</p> + +<p>During the next hour, and while they were at supper, he could see that she +was purposely avoiding his eyes, and that she spoke oftener to Paul +Blackton than she did to him, apparently taking the keenest interest in his +friend's enthusiastic descriptions of the mighty work along the line of +steel. And as pretty Peggy Blackton never seemed quite so happy as when +listening to her husband, he was forced to content himself by looking at +Joanne most of the time, without once receiving her smile.</p> + +<p>The sun was just falling behind the western mountains when Peggy and +Joanne, hurried most incontinently by Blackton, who had looked at his +watch, left the table to prepare themselves for the big event of the +evening.</p> + +<p>"I want to get you there before dusk," he explained. "So please hurry!"</p> + +<p>They were back in five minutes. Joanne had slipped on a long gray coat, and +with a veil that trailed a yard down her back she had covered her head. +Not a curl or a tress of her hair had she left out of its filmy prison, and +there was a mischievous gleam of triumph in her eyes when she looked at +Aldous.</p> + +<p>A moment later, when they went ahead of Blackton and his wife to where the +buckboard was waiting for them, he said:</p> + +<p>"You put on that veil to punish me, Ladygray?"</p> + +<p>"It is a pretty veil," said she.</p> + +<p>"But your hair is prettier," said he.</p> + +<p>"And you embarrassed me very much by staring as you did, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me. It is—I mean you are—so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"And you are sometimes—most displeasing," said she. "Your ingenuousness, +John Aldous, is shocking!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said again.</p> + +<p>"And you have known me but two days," she added.</p> + +<p>"Two days—is a long time," he argued. "One can be born, and live, and die +in two days. Besides, our trails have crossed for years."</p> + +<p>"But—it displeases me."</p> + +<p>"What I have said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the way I have looked at you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Her voice was low and quiet now, her eyes were serious, and she was not +smiling.</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," he groaned, and there was a deep thrill in his voice. +"It's been only two days after all, Ladygray. It seems like—like a +lifetime. I don't want you to think badly of me. God knows I don't!"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I don't," she said quickly and gently. "You are the finest +gentleman I ever knew, John Aldous. Only—it embarrasses me."</p> + +<p>"I will cut out my tongue and put out my eyes——"</p> + +<p>"Nothing so terrible," she laughed softly. "Will you help me into the +wagon? They are coming."</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand, warm and soft; and Blackton forced him into the seat +between her and Peggy, and Joanne's hand rested in his arm all the way to +the mountain that was to be blown up, and he told himself that he was a +fool if he were not supremely happy. The wagon stopped, and he helped her +out again, her warm little hand again close in his own, and when she looked +at him he was the cool, smiling John Aldous of old, so cool, and strong, +and unemotional that he saw surprise in her eyes first, and then that +gentle, gathering glow that came when she was proud of him, and pleased +with him. And as Blackton pointed out the mountain she unknotted the veil +under her chin and let it drop back over her shoulders, so that the last +light of the day fell richly in the trembling curls and thick coils of her +hair.</p> + +<p>"And that is my reward," said John Aldous, but he whispered it to himself.</p> + +<p>They had stopped close to a huge flat rock, and on this rock men were at +work fitting wires to a little boxlike thing that had a white button-lever. +Paul Blackton pointed to this, and his face was flushed with excitement.</p> + +<p>"That's the little thing that's going to blow it up, Miss Gray—the touch +of your finger on that little white button. Do you see that black base of +the mountain yonder?—right there where you can see men moving about? It's +half a mile from here, and the 'coyote' is there, dug into the wall of +it."</p> + +<p>The tremble of enthusiasm was in his voice as he went on, pointing with his +long arm: "Think of it! We're spending a hundred thousand dollars going +through that rock that people who travel on the Grand Trunk Pacific in the +future will be saved seven minutes in their journey from coast to coast! +We're spending a hundred thousand there, and millions along the line, that +we may have the smoothest roadbed in the world when we're done, and the +quickest route from sea to sea. It looks like waste, but it isn't. It's +science! It's the fight of competition! It's the determination behind the +forces—the determination to make this road the greatest road in the world! +Listen!"</p> + +<p>The gloom was thickening swiftly. The black mountain was fading slowly +away, and up out of that gloom came now ghostly and far-reaching voices of +men booming faintly through giant megaphones.</p> + +<p>"<i>Clear away! Clear away! Clear away!</i>" they said, and the valley and the +mountain-sides caught up the echoes, until it seemed that a hundred voices +were crying out the warning. Then fell a strange and weird silence, and the +echoes faded away like the voices of dying men, and all was still save the +far-away barking of a coyote that answered the mysterious challenges of the +night. Joanne was close to the rock. Quietly the men who had been working +on the battery drew back.</p> + +<p>"It is ready!" said one.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" said Blackton, as his wife went to speak, "Listen!"</p> + +<p>For five minutes there was silence. Then out of the night a single +megaphone cried the word:</p> + +<p>"<i>Fire!</i>"</p> + +<p>"All is clear," said the engineer, with a deep breath. "All you have to do, +Miss Gray, is to move that little lever from the side on which it now rests +to the opposite side. Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>In the darkness Joanne's left hand had sought John's. It clung to his +tightly. He could feel a little shiver run through her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Then—if you please—press the button!"</p> + +<p>Slowly Joanne's right hand crept out, while the fingers of her left clung +tighter to Aldous. She touched the button—thrust it over. A little cry +that fell from between her tense lips told them she had done the work, and +a silence like that of death fell on those who waited.</p> + +<p>A half a minute—perhaps three quarters—and a shiver ran under their feet, +but there was no sound; and then a black pall, darker than the night, +seemed to rise up out of the mountain, and with that, a second later, came +the explosion. There was a rumbling and a jarring, as if the earth were +convulsed under foot; volumes of dense black smoke shot upward, and in +another instant these rolling, twisting volumes of black became lurid, and +an explosion like that of a thousand great guns rent the air. As fast as +the eye could follow sheets of flame shot up out of the sea of smoke, +climbing higher and higher, in lightning flashes, until the lurid tongues +licked the air a quarter of a mile above the startled wilderness. Explosion +followed explosion, some of them coming in hollow, reverberating booms, +others sounding as if in midair. Unseen by the watchers, the heavens were +filled with hurtling rocks; solid masses of granite ten feet square were +thrown a hundred feet away; rocks weighing a ton were hurled still farther, +as if they were no more than stones flung by the hands of a giant; chunks +that would have crashed from the roof to the basement of a skyscraper +dropped a third of a mile away. For three minutes the frightful convulsions +continued, and the tongues of flame leaped into the night. Then the lurid +lights died out, shorter and shorter grew the sullen flashes, and then +again fell—silence!</p> + +<p>During those appalling moments, unconscious of the act, Joanne had shrank +close to Aldous, so that he felt the soft crush of her hair and the swift +movement of her bosom. Blackton's voice brought them back to life.</p> + +<p>He laughed, and it was the laugh of a man who had looked upon work well +done.</p> + +<p>"It has done the trick," he said. "To-morrow we will come and see. And I +have changed my plans about Coyote Number Twenty-eight. Hutchins, the +superintendent, is passing through in the afternoon, and I want him to see +it." He spoke now to a man who had come up out of the darkness. "Gregg, +have Twenty-eight ready at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon—four +o'clock—sharp!"</p> + +<p>Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Dust and a bad smell will soon be settling about us. Come, let's go home!"</p> + +<p>And as they went back to the buckboard wagon through the gloom John Aldous +still held Joanne's hand in his own, and she made no effort to take it from +him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>The next morning, when Aldous joined the engineer in the dining-room below, +he was disappointed to find the breakfast table prepared for two instead of +four. It was evident that Peggy Blackton and Joanne were not going to +interrupt their beauty nap on their account.</p> + +<p>Blackton saw his friend's inquiring look, and chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll have to get along without 'em this morning, old man. Lord +bless me, did you hear them last night—after you went to bed?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You were too far away," chuckled Blackton again, "I was in the room across +the hall from them. You see, old man, Peggy sometimes gets fairly starved +for the right sort of company up here, and last night they didn't go to bed +until after twelve o'clock. I looked at my watch. Mebby they were in bed, +but I could hear 'em buzzing like two bees, and every little while they'd +giggle, and then go on buzzing again. By George, there wasn't a break in +it! When one let up the other'd begin, and sometimes I guess they were both +going at once. Consequently, they're sleeping now."</p> + +<p>When breakfast was finished Blackton looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"Seven o'clock," he said. "We'll leave word for the girls to be ready at +nine. What are you going to do meantime, Aldous?"</p> + +<p>"Hunt up MacDonald, probably."</p> + +<p>"And I'll run down and take a look at the work."</p> + +<p>As they left the house the engineer nodded down the road. MacDonald was +coming.</p> + +<p>"He has saved you the trouble," he said. "Remember, Aldous—nine o'clock +sharp!"</p> + +<p>A moment later Aldous was advancing to meet the old mountaineer.</p> + +<p>"They've gone, Johnny," was Donald's first greeting.</p> + +<p>"Gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The whole bunch—Quade, Culver Rann, DeBar, and the woman who rode +the bear. They've gone, hide and hair, and nobody seems to know where."</p> + +<p>Aldous was staring.</p> + +<p>"Also," resumed old Donald slowly, "Culver Rann's outfit is gone—twenty +horses, including six saddles. An' likewise others have gone, but I can't +find out who."</p> + +<p>"Gone!" repeated Aldous again.</p> + +<p>MacDonald nodded.</p> + +<p>"And that means——"</p> + +<p>"That Culver Rann ain't lost any time in gettin' under way for the gold," +said Donald. "DeBar is with him, an' probably the woman. Likewise three +cut-throats to fill the other saddles. They've gone prepared to fight."</p> + +<p>"And Quade?"</p> + +<p>Old Donald hunched his shoulders, and suddenly John's face grew dark and +hard.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he spoke, half under his breath. "Quade has +disappeared—but he isn't with Culver Rann. He wants us to believe he has +gone. He wants to throw us off our guard. But he's watching, and +waiting—somewhere—like a hawk, to swoop down on Joanne! He——"</p> + +<p>"That's it!" broke in MacDonald hoarsely. "That's it, Johnny! It's his old +trick—his old trick with women. There's a hunderd men who've got to do his +bidding—do it 'r get out of the mountains—an' we've got to watch Joanne. +We have, Johnny! If she should disappear——"</p> + +<p>Aldous waited.</p> + +<p>"You'd never find her again, so 'elp me God, you wouldn't, Johnny!" he +finished.</p> + +<p>"We'll watch her," said Aldous quietly. "I'll be with her to-day, Mac, and +to-night I'll come down to the camp in the coulee to compare notes with +you. They can't very well steal her out of Blackton's house while I'm +gone."</p> + +<p>For an hour after MacDonald left him he walked about in the neighbourhood +of the Blackton bungalow smoking his pipe. Not until he saw the contractor +drive up in the buckboard did he return. Joanne and Peggy were more than +prompt. They were waiting. If such a thing were possible Joanne was more +radiantly lovely than the night before. To Aldous she became more beautiful +every time he looked at her. But this morning he did not speak what was in +his heart when, for a moment, he held her hand, and looked into her eyes. +Instead, he said:</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Ladygray. Have you used——"</p> + +<p>"I have," she smiled. "Only it's Potterdam's Tar Soap, and not the other. +And you—have not shaved, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott, so I haven't!" he exclaimed, rubbing his chin. "But I did +yesterday afternoon, Ladygray!"</p> + +<p>"And you will again this afternoon, if you please," she commanded. "I don't +like bristles."</p> + +<p>"But in the wilderness——"</p> + +<p>"One can shave as well as another can make curls," she reminded him, and +there came an adorable little dimple at the corner of her mouth as she +looked toward Paul Blackton.</p> + +<p>Aldous was glad that Paul and Peggy Blackton did most of the talking that +morning. They spent half an hour where the explosion of the night before +had blown out the side of the mountain, and then drove on to Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. It was in the face of a sandstone cliff, and all they could +see of it when they got out of the wagon was a dark hole in the wall of +rock. Not a soul was about, and Blackton rubbed his hands with +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Everything is completed," he said. "Gregg put in the last packing this +morning, and all we are waiting for now is four o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>The hole in the mountain was perhaps four feet square. Ten feet in front of +it the engineer paused, and pointed to the ground. Up out of the earth came +two wires, which led away from the mouth of the cavern.</p> + +<p>"Those wires go down to the explosives," he explained. "They're battery +wires half a mile long. But we don't attach the battery until the final +moment, as you saw last night. There might be an accident."</p> + +<p>He bent his tall body and entered the mouth of the cavern, leading his wife +by the hand. Observing that Joanne had seen this attention on the +contractor's part, Aldous held out his own hand, and Joanne accepted it. +For perhaps twenty feet they followed the Blacktons with lowered heads. +They seemed to have entered a black, cold pit, sloping slightly downward, +and only faintly could they see Blackton when he straightened.</p> + +<p>His voice came strange and sepulchral:</p> + +<p>"You can stand up now. We're in the chamber. Don't move or you might +stumble over something. There ought to be a lantern here."</p> + +<p>He struck a match, and as he moved slowly toward a wall of blackness, +searching for the lantern, he called back encouragingly through the gloom:</p> + +<p>"You folks are now standing right over ten tons of dynamite, and there's +another five tons of black powder——"</p> + +<p>A little shriek from Peggy Blackton stopped him, and his match went out.</p> + +<p>"What in heaven's name is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Peggy——"</p> + +<p>"Why in heaven's name do you light a match then, with us standing over all +those tons of dynamite?" demanded Peggy. "Paul Blackton, you're——"</p> + +<p>The engineer's laughter was like a giant's roar in the cavern, and Joanne +gave a gasp, while Peggy shiveringly caught Aldous by the arm.</p> + +<p>"There—I've got the lantern!" exclaimed Blackton. "There isn't any danger, +not a bit. Wait a minute and I'll tell you all about it." He lighted the +lantern, and in the glow of it Joanne's and Peggy's faces were white and +startled. "Why, bless my soul, I didn't mean to frighten you!" he cried. "I +was just telling you facts. See, we're standing on a solid floor—four feet +of packed rock and cement. The dynamite and black powder are under that. +We're in a chamber—a cave—an artificial cavern. It's forty feet deep, +twenty wide, and about seven high."</p> + +<p>He held the lantern even with his shoulders and walked deeper into the +cavern as he spoke. The others followed. They passed a keg on which was a +half-burned candle. Close to the keg was an empty box. Beyond these things +the cavern was empty.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was full of powder and dynamite," apologized Peggy.</p> + +<p>"You see, it's like this," Blackton began. "We put the powder and dynamite +down there, and pack it over solid with rock and cement. If we didn't leave +this big air-chamber above it there would be only one explosion, and +probably two thirds of the explosive would not fire, and would be lost. +This chamber corrects that. You heard a dozen explosions last night, and +you'll hear a dozen this afternoon, and the biggest explosion of all is +usually the fourth or fifth. A 'coyote' isn't like an ordinary blast or +shot. It's a mighty expensive thing, and you see it means a lot of work. +Now, if some one were to touch off those explosives at this minute—— +What's the matter, Peggy? Are you cold? You're shivering!"</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-e-s!" chattered Peggy.</p> + +<p>Aldous felt Joanne tugging at his hand.</p> + +<p>"Let's take Mrs. Blackton out," she whispered. "I'm—I'm—afraid she'll +take cold!"</p> + +<p>In spite of himself Aldous could not restrain his laughter until they had +got through the tunnel. Out in the sunlight he looked at Joanne, still +holding her hand. She withdrew it, looking at him accusingly.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless me!" exclaimed Blackton, who seemed to understand at last. +"There's no danger—not a bit!"</p> + +<p>"But I'd rather look at it from outside, Paul, dear," said Mrs. Blackton.</p> + +<p>"But—Peggy—if it went off now you'd be in just as bad shape out here!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think we'd be quite so messy, really I don't, dear," she +persisted.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless me!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"And they'd probably be able to find something of us," she added.</p> + +<p>"Not a button, Peggy!"</p> + +<p>"Then I'm going to move, if you please!" And suiting her action to the word +Peggy led the way to the buckboard. There she paused and took one of her +husband's big hands fondly in both her own. "It's perfectly wonderful, +Paul—and I'm proud of you!" she said. "But, honestly, dear, I can enjoy it +so much better at four o'clock this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Smiling, Blackton lifted her into the buckboard.</p> + +<p>"That's why I wish Paul had been a preacher or something like that," she +confided to Joanne as they drove homeward. "I'm growing old just thinking +of him working over that horrid dynamite and powder all the time. Every +little while some one is blown into nothing."</p> + +<p>"I believe," said Joanne, "that I'd like to do something like that if I +were a man. I'd want to be a man, not that preachers aren't men, Peggy, +dear—but I'd want to do things, like blowing up mountains for instance, or +finding buried cities, or"—she whispered, very, very softly under her +breath—"writing books, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>Only Aldous heard those last words, and Joanne gave a sharp little cry; and +when Peggy asked her what the matter was Joanne did not tell her that John +Aldous had almost broken her hand on the opposite side—for Joanne was +riding between the two.</p> + +<p>"It's lame for life," she said to him half an hour later, when he was +bidding her good-bye, preparatory to accompanying Blackton down to the +working steel. "And I deserve it for trying to be kind to you. I think some +writers of books are—are perfectly intolerable!"</p> + +<p>"Won't you take a little walk with me right after dinner?" he was asking +for the twentieth time.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it very, very much."</p> + +<p>"Please, Ladygray!"</p> + +<p>"I may possibly think about it."</p> + +<p>With that she left him, and she did not look back as she and Peggy Blackton +went into the house. But as they drove away they saw two faces at the +window that overlooked the townward road, and two hands were waving +good-bye. Both could not be Peggy Blackton's hands.</p> + +<p>"Joanne and I are going for a walk this afternoon, Blackton," said Aldous, +"and I just want to tell you not to worry if we're not back by four +o'clock. Don't wait for us. We may be watching the blow-up from the top of +some mountain."</p> + +<p>Blackton chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Don't blame you," he said. "From an observer's point of view, John, it +looks to me as though you were going to have something more than hope to +live on pretty soon!"</p> + +<p>"I—I hope so."</p> + +<p>"And when I was going with Peggy I wouldn't have traded a quiet little walk +with her—like this you're suggesting—for a front seat look at a blow-up +of the whole Rocky Mountain system!"</p> + +<p>"And you won't forget to tell Mrs. Blackton that we may not return by four +o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"I will not. And"—Blackton puffed hard at his pipe—"and, John—the Tête +Jaune preacher is our nearest neighbour," he finished.</p> + +<p>From then until dinner time John Aldous lived in an atmosphere that was not +quite real, but a little like a dream. His hopes and his happiness were at +their highest. He knew that Joanne would go walking with him that +afternoon, and in spite of his most serious efforts to argue to the +contrary he could not keep down the feeling that the event would mean a +great deal for him. Almost feverishly he interested himself in Paul +Blackton's work. When they returned to the bungalow, a little before noon, +he went to his room, shaved himself, and in other ways prepared for dinner.</p> + +<p>Joanne and the Blacktons were waiting when he came down.</p> + +<p>His first look at Joanne assured him. She was dressed in a soft gray +walking-suit. Never had the preparation of a dinner seemed so slow to him, +and a dozen times he found himself inwardly swearing at Tom, the Chinese +cook. It was one o'clock before they sat down at the table and it was two +o'clock when they arose. It was a quarter after two when Joanne and he left +the bungalow.</p> + +<p>"Shall we wander up on the mountain?" he asked. "It would be fine to look +down upon the explosion."</p> + +<p>"I have noticed that in some things you are very observant," said Joanne, +ignoring his question. "In the matter of curls, for instance, you are +unapproachable; in others you are—quite blind, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I lost my scarf this morning, and you did not notice it. It is quite an +unusual scarf. I bought it in Cairo, and I don't want to have it blown up."</p> + +<p>"You mean——"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I must have dropped it in the cavern. I had it when we entered."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll return for it," he volunteered. "We'll still have plenty of +time to climb up the mountain before the explosion."</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later they came to the dark mouth of the tunnel. There was +no one in sight, and for a moment Aldous searched for matches in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," he said. "I won't be gone two minutes."</p> + +<p>He entered, and when he came to the chamber he struck a match. The lantern +was on the empty box. He lighted it, and began looking for the scarf. +Suddenly he heard a sound. He turned, and saw Joanne standing in the glow +of the lantern.</p> + +<p>"Can you find it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I haven't—yet."</p> + +<p>They bent over the rock floor, and in a moment Joanne gave a little +exclamation of pleasure as she caught up the scarf. In that same moment, as +they straightened and faced each other, John Aldous felt his heart cease +beating, and Joanne's face had gone as white as death. The rock-walled +chamber was atremble; they heard a sullen, distant roaring, and as Aldous +caught Joanne's hand and sprang toward the tunnel the roar grew into a +deafening crash, and a gale of wind rushed into their faces, blowing out +the lantern, and leaving them in darkness. The mountain seemed crumbling +about them, and above the sound of it rang out a wild, despairing cry from +Joanne's lips. For there was no longer the brightness of sunshine at the +end of the tunnel, but darkness—utter darkness; and through that tunnel +there came a deluge of dust and rock that flung them back into the +blackness of the pit, and separated them.</p> + +<p>"John—John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"I am here, Joanne! I will light the lantern!"</p> + +<p>His groping hands found the lantern. He relighted it, and Joanne crept to +his side, her face as white as the face of the dead. He held the lantern +above him, and together they stared at where the tunnel had been. A mass of +rock met their eyes. The tunnel was choked. And then, slowly, each turned +to the other; and each knew that the other understood—for it was Death +that whispered about them now in the restless air of the rock-walled tomb, +a terrible death, and their lips spoke no words as their eyes met in that +fearful and silent understanding.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<br> + +<p>Joanne's white lips spoke first.</p> + +<p>"The tunnel is closed!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Her voice was strange. It was not Joanne's voice. It was unreal, terrible, +and her eyes were terrible as they looked steadily into his. Aldous could +not answer; something had thickened in his throat, and his blood ran cold +as he stared into Joanne's dead-white face and saw the understanding in her +eyes. For a space he could not move, and then, as suddenly as it had fallen +upon him, the effect of the shock passed away.</p> + +<a name="image-4"><!-- Image 4 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/004.jpg" height="470" width="300" +alt=""The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another.""> +</center> + +<h5>"The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."</h5> + +<p>He smiled, and put out a hand to her.</p> + +<p>"A slide of rock has fallen over the mouth of the tunnel," he said, forcing +himself to speak as if it meant little or nothing. "Hold the lantern, +Joanne, while I get busy."</p> + +<p>"A slide of rock," she repeated after him dumbly.</p> + +<p>She took the lantern, her eyes still looking at him in that stricken way, +and with his naked hands John Aldous set to work. Five minutes and he knew +that it was madness to continue. Hands alone could not clear the tunnel. +And yet he worked, tearing into the rock and shale like an animal; rolling +back small boulders, straining at larger ones until the tendons of his arms +seemed ready to snap and his veins to burst. For a few minutes after that +he went mad. His muscles cracked, he panted as he fought with the rock +until his hands were torn and bleeding, and over and over again there ran +through his head Blackton's last words—<i>Four o'clock this afternoon!--Four +o'clock this afternoon!</i></p> + +<p>Then he came to what he knew he would reach very soon, a solid wall! Rock +and shale and earth were packed as if by battering rams. For a few moments +he fought to control himself before facing Joanne. Over him swept the grim +realization that his last fight must be for her. He steadied himself, and +wiped the dust and grime from his face with his handkerchief. For the last +time he swallowed hard. His soul rose within him almost joyously now in the +face of this last great fight, and he turned—John Aldous, the super-man. +There was no trace of fear in his face as he went to her. He was even +smiling in that ghostly glow of the lantern.</p> + +<p>"It is hard work, Joanne."</p> + +<p>She did not seem to hear what he had said. She was looking at his hands. +She held the lantern nearer.</p> + +<p>"Your hands are bleeding, John!"</p> + +<p>It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he was +thrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of her +hand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raised +her eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he had +gazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, and +the moment was weighted with an appalling silence.</p> + +<p>It came to them both in that instant—the <i>tick-tick-tick</i> of the watch in +his pocket!</p> + +<p>Without taking her eyes from his face she asked:</p> + +<p>"What time is it. John?"</p> + +<p>"Joanne——"</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I am +not afraid now. What time is it, John?"</p> + +<p>"My God—they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't think +they won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide has +covered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger—none at +all. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!"</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she repeated softly.</p> + +<p>For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he saw +that she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivory +cross she was smiling at him—yes! she was smiling at him in that gray and +ghastly death-gloom of the cavern!</p> + +<p>He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it.</p> + +<p>"A quarter after three," he said. "By four o'clock they will be at +work—Blackton and twenty men. They will have us out in time for supper."</p> + +<p>"A quarter after three," repeated Joanne, and the words came steadily from +her lips. "That means——"</p> + +<p>He waited.</p> + +<p>"<i>We have forty-five minutes in which to live!</i>" she said.</p> + +<p>Before he could speak she had thrust the lantern into his hand, and had +seized his other hand in both her own.</p> + +<p>"If there are only forty-five minutes let us not lie to one another," she +said, and her voice was very close. "I know why you are doing it, John +Aldous. It is for me. You have done a great deal for me in these two days +in which one 'can be born, and live, and die.' But in these last minutes +I do not want you to act what I know cannot be the truth. You know—and I +know. The wires are laid to the battery rock. There is no hope. At four +o'clock—we both know what will happen. And I—am not afraid."</p> + +<p>She heard him choking for speech. In a moment he said:</p> + +<p>"There are other lanterns—Joanne. I saw them when I was looking for the +scarf. I will light them."</p> + +<p>He found two lanterns hanging against the rock wall. He lighted them, and +the half-burned candle.</p> + +<p>"It is pleasanter," she said.</p> + +<p>She stood in the glow of them when he turned to her, tall, and straight, +and as beautiful as an angel. Her lips were pale; the last drop of blood +had ebbed from her face; but there was something glorious in the poise of +her head, and in the wistful gentleness of her mouth and the light in her +eyes. And then, slowly, as he stood looking with a face torn in its agony +for her, she held out her arms.</p> + +<p>"John—John Aldous——"</p> + +<p>"Joanne! Oh, my God!--Joanne!"</p> + +<p>She swayed as he sprang to her, but she was smiling—smiling in that new +and wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heard +her say came low and sobbing:</p> + +<p>"John—John, if you want to, now—you can tell me that my hair is +beautiful!"</p> + +<p>And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him, +her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and over +again she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushed +forth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetful +of time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, her +hair, her eyes—conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life, +that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and that +over and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that she +loved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made him +free her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love had +overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour +and in her eyes was its glory.</p> + +<p>And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came—almost like +the benediction of a cathedral bell—the soft, low tinkling chime of the +half-hour bell in Aldous' watch!</p> + +<p>It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and +his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides.</p> + +<p>"Joanne—Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close +in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "I +have lived for you, I have waited for you—all these years you have been +coming, coming, coming to me—and now that you are mine—<i>mine</i>—it is +impossible! It cannot happen——"</p> + +<p>He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined the +packed tunnel. It was solid—not a crevice or a break through which might +have travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did not +shout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would be +terrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might be +some other opening—a possible exit—in that mountain wall? With the +lantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back to +Joanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he looked +at her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went to +her.</p> + +<p>"Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you are +not afraid?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>"And you know——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly against +their clasped hands and partly upon his breast.</p> + +<p>"And you love me, Joanne?"</p> + +<p>"As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"And yet it has been but two days——"</p> + +<p>"And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly.</p> + +<p>"You would be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"If you wanted me then, John."</p> + +<p>"I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me without +reservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me—you would come to me +body, and heart, and soul?"</p> + +<p>"In all those ways—yes."</p> + +<p>"I thank God," he breathed again.</p> + +<p>He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her love +grew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little for +him to kiss.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was happy—so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face. +"John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keep +myself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraid +you wouldn't tell me—before it happened. And John—John——"</p> + +<p>She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows in +her hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her—her glorious +hair—covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept and +piled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, and +shoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it.</p> + +<p>He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lips +pressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears, +pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the +<i>tick-tick-tick</i> of the watch in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Joanne," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, John."</p> + +<p>"You are not afraid of—death?"</p> + +<p>"No, not when you are holding me like this, John."</p> + +<p>He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips.</p> + +<p>"Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, my +John!"</p> + +<p>Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold.</p> + +<p>"Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice. +"Let us sit down, John—you on this box, and I on the floor, at your +feet—like this."</p> + +<p>He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, her +hands clasped in his.</p> + +<p>"I think, John," she said softly, "that very, very often we would have +visited like this—you and I—in the evening."</p> + +<p>A lump choked him, and he could not answer.</p> + +<p>"I would very often have come and perched myself at your feet like this."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my beloved."</p> + +<p>"And you would always have told me how beautiful my hair was—always. You +would not have forgotten that, John—or have grown tired?"</p> + +<p>"No, no—never!"</p> + +<p>His arms were about her. He was drawing her closer.</p> + +<p>"And we would have had beautiful times together, John—writing, and going +adventuring, and—and——"</p> + +<p>He felt her trembling, throbbing, and her arms tightened about him.</p> + +<p>And now, again up through the smother of her hair, came the +<i>tick-tick-tick</i> of his watch.</p> + +<p>He felt her fumbling at his watch pocket, and in a moment she was holding +the timepiece between them, so that the light of the lantern fell on the +face of it.</p> + +<p>"It is three minutes of four, John."</p> + +<p>The watch slipped from her fingers, and now she drew herself up so that her +arms were about his neck, and their faces touched.</p> + +<p>"Dear John, you love me?"</p> + +<p>"So much that even now, in the face of death, I am happy," he whispered. +"Joanne, sweetheart, we are not going to be separated. We are +going—together. Through all eternity it must be like this—you and I, +together. Little girl, wind your hair about me—tight!"</p> + +<p>"There—and there—and there, John! I have tied you to me, and you are +buried in it! Kiss me, John——"</p> + +<p>And then the wild and terrible fear of a great loneliness swept through +him. For Joanne's voice had died away in a whispering breath, and the lips +he kissed did not kiss him back, and her body lay heavy, heavy, heavy in +his arms. Yet in his loneliness he thanked God for bringing her oblivion in +these last moments, and with his face crushed to hers he waited. For he +knew that it was no longer a matter of minutes, but of seconds, and in +those seconds he prayed, until up through the warm smother of her +hair—with the clearness of a tolling bell—came the sound of the little +gong in his watch striking the Hour of Four!</p> + +<p>In space other worlds might have crumbled into ruin; on earth the stories +of empires might have been written and the lives of men grown old in those +first century-long seconds in which John Aldous held his breath and waited +after the chiming of the hour-bell in the watch on the cavern floor. How +long he waited he did not know; how closely he was crushing Joanne to his +breast he did not realize. Seconds, minutes, and other minutes—and his +brain ran red in dumb, silent madness. And the watch! It <i>ticked, ticked, +ticked!</i> It was like a hammer.</p> + +<p>He had heard the sound of it first coming up through her hair. But it was +not in her hair now. It was over him, about him—it was no longer a +ticking, but a throb, a steady, jarring, beating throb. It grew louder, +and the air stirred with it. He lifted his head. With the eyes of a madman +he stared—and listened. His arms relaxed from about Joanne, and she +slipped crumpled and lifeless to the floor. He stared—and that steady +<i>beat-beat-beat</i>—a hundred times louder than the ticking of a +watch—pounded in his brain. Was he mad? He staggered to the choked mouth +of the tunnel, and then there fell shout upon shout, and shriek upon shriek +from his lips, and twice, like a madman now, he ran back to Joanne and +caught her up in his arms, calling and sobbing her name, and then +shouting—and calling her name again. She moved; her eyes opened, and like +one gazing upon the spirit of the dead she looked into the face of John +Aldous, a madman's face in the lantern-glow.</p> + +<p>"John—John——"</p> + +<p>She put up her hands, and with a cry he ran with her in his arms to the +choked tunnel.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Listen!" he cried wildly. "Dear God in Heaven, Joanne—can you not +hear them? It's Blackton—Blackton and his men! Hear—hear the rock-hammers +smashing! Joanne—Joanne—we are saved!"</p> + +<p>She did not sense him. She swayed, half on her feet, half in his arms, as +consciousness and reason returned to her. Dazedly her hands went to his +face in their old, sweet way. Aldous saw her struggling to understand—to +comprehend; and he kissed her soft upturned lips, fighting back the +excitement that made him want to raise his voice again in wild and joyous +shouting.</p> + +<p>"It is Blackton!" he said over and over again. "It is Blackton and his men! +Listen!--you can hear their picks and the pounding of their rock-hammers!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<br> + +<p>At last Joanne realized that the explosion was not to come, that Blackton +and his men were working to save them. And now, as she listened with him, +her breath began to come in sobbing excitement between her lips—for there +was no mistaking that sound, that steady <i>beat-beat-beat</i> that came from +beyond the cavern wall and seemed to set strange tremors stirring in the +air about their ears. For a few moments they stood stunned and silent, as +if not yet quite fully comprehending that they had come from out of the pit +of death, and that men were fighting for their rescue. They asked +themselves no questions—why the "coyote" had not been fired? how those +outside knew they were in the cavern. And, as they listened, there came to +them a voice. It was faint, so faint that it seemed to whisper to them +through miles and miles of space—yet they knew that it was a voice!</p> + +<p>"Some one is shouting," spoke Aldous tensely. "Joanne, my darling, stand +around the face of the wall so flying rock will not strike you and I will +answer with my pistol!"</p> + +<p>When he had placed her in safety from split lead and rock chips, he drew +his automatic and fired it close up against the choked tunnel. He fired +five times, steadily, counting three between each shot, and then he placed +his ear to the mass of stone and earth and listened. Joanne slipped to him +like a shadow. Her hand sought his, and they held their breaths. They no +longer heard sounds—nothing but the crumbling and falling of dust and +pebbles where the bullets had struck, and their own heart-beats. The picks +and rock-hammers had ceased.</p> + +<p>Tighter and tighter grew the clasp of Joanne's fingers, and a terrible +thought flashed into John's brain. Perhaps a, rock from the slide had cut a +wire, and they had found the wire—had repaired it! Was that thought in +Joanne's mind, too? Her finger-nails pricked his flesh. He looked at her. +Her eyes were closed, and her lips were tense and gray. And then her eyes +shot open—wide and staring. They heard, faintly though it came to +them—once, twice, three times, four, five—the firing of a gun!</p> + +<p>John Aldous straightened, and a great breath fell from his lips.</p> + +<p>"Five times!" he said. "It is an answer. There is no longer doubt."</p> + +<p>He was holding out his arms to her, and she came into them with a choking +cry; and now she sobbed like a little child with her head against his +breast, and for many minutes he held her close, kissing her wet face, and +her damp hair, and her quivering lips, while the beat of the picks and the +crash of the rock-hammers came steadily nearer.</p> + +<p>Where those picks and rock-hammers fell a score of men were working like +fiends: Blackton, his arms stripped to the shoulders; Gregg, sweating and +urging the men; and among them—lifting and tearing at the rock like a +madman—old Donald MacDonald, his shirt open, his great hands bleeding, his +hair and beard tossing about him in the wind. Behind them, her hands +clasped to her breast—crying out to them to hurry, <i>hurry</i>—stood Peggy +Blackton. The strength of five men was in every pair of arms. Huge boulders +were rolled back. Men pawed earth and shale with their naked hands. +Rock-hammers fell with blows that would have cracked the heart of a granite +obelisk. Half an hour—three quarters—and Blackton came back to where +Peggy was standing, his face black and grimed, his arms red-seared where +the edges of the rocks had caught them, his eyes shining.</p> + +<p>"We're almost there, Peggy," he panted. "Another five minutes and——"</p> + +<p>A shout interrupted him. A cloud of dust rolled out of the mouth of the +tunnel, and into that dust rushed half a dozen men led by old Donald. +Before the dust had settled they began to reappear, and with a shrill +scream Peggy Blackton darted forward and flung her arms about the +gold-shrouded figure of Joanne, swaying and laughing and sobbing in the +sunshine. And old Donald, clasping his great arms about Aldous, cried +brokenly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnny, Johnny—something told me to foller ye—an' I was just in +time—just in time to see you go into the coyote!"</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Mac!" said Aldous, and then Paul Blackton was wringing his +hands; and one after another the others shook his hand, but Peggy Blackton +was crying like a baby as she hugged Joanne in her arms.</p> + +<p>"MacDonald came just in time," explained Blackton a moment later; and he +tried to speak steadily, and tried to smile. "Ten minutes more, and——"</p> + +<p>He was white.</p> + +<p>"Now that it has turned out like this I thank God that it happened, Paul," +said Aldous, for the engineer's ears alone. "We thought we were facing +death, and so—I told her. And in there, on our knees, we pledged ourselves +man and wife. I want the minister—as quick as you can get him, Blackton. +Don't say anything to Joanne, but bring him to the house right away, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"Within half an hour," replied Blackton. "There comes Tony with the +buckboard. We'll hustle up to the house and I'll have the preacher there in +a jiffy."</p> + +<p>As they went to the wagon, Aldous looked about for MacDonald. He had +disappeared. Requesting Gregg to hunt him up and send him to the bungalow, +he climbed into the back seat, with Joanne between him and Peggy. Her +little hand lay in his. Her fingers clung to him. But her hair hid her +face, and on the other side of her Peggy Blackton was laughing and talking +and crying by turns.</p> + +<p>As they entered the bungalow, Aldous whispered to Joanne:</p> + +<p>"Will you please go right to your room, dear? I want to say something to +you—alone."</p> + +<p>When she went up the stair, Peggy caught a signal from her husband. Aldous +remained with them. In two minutes he told the bewildered and finally +delighted Peggy what was going to happen, and as Blackton hustled out for +the minister's house he followed Joanne. She had fastened her door behind +her. He knocked. Slowly she opened it.</p> + +<p>"John——"</p> + +<p>"I have told them, dear," he whispered happily. "They understand. And, +Joanne, Paul Blackton will be back in ten minutes—with the minister. Are +you glad?"</p> + +<p>She had opened the door wide, and he was heading out his arms to her again. +For a moment she did not move, but stood there trembling a little, and +deeper and sweeter grew the colour in her face, and tenderer the look in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I must brush my hair," she answered, as though she could think of no other +words. "I—I must dress."</p> + +<p>Laughing joyously, he went to her and gathered the soft masses of her hair +in his hands, and piled it up in a glorious disarray about her face and +head, holding it there, and still laughing into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Joanne, you are mine!"</p> + +<p>"Unless I have been dreaming—I am, John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>"Forever and forever."</p> + +<p>"Yes, forever—and ever."</p> + +<p>"And because I want the whole world to know, we are going to be married by +a minister."</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>"And as my wife to be," he went on, his voice trembling with his happiness, +"you must obey me!"</p> + +<p>"I think that I shall, John."</p> + +<p>"Then you will not brush your hair, and you will not change your dress, and +you will not wash the dust from your face and that sweet little beauty-spot +from the tip of your nose," he commanded, and now he drew her head close to +him, so that he whispered, half in her hair: "Joanne, my darling, I want +you <i>wholly</i> as you came to me there, when we thought we were going to die. +It was there you promised to become my wife, and I want you as you were +then—when the minister comes."</p> + +<p>"John, I think I hear some one coming up the front steps!"</p> + +<p>They listened. The door opened. They heard voices—Blackton's voice, +Peggy's voice, and another voice—a man's voice.</p> + +<p>Blackton's voice came up to them very distinctly.</p> + +<p>"Mighty lucky, Peggy," he said. "Caught Mr. Wollaver just as he was passing +the house. Where's——"</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-hh!" came Peggy Blackton's sibilant whisper.</p> + +<p>Joanne's hands had crept to John's face.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said, "that it is the minister, John."</p> + +<p>Her warm lips were near, and he kissed them.</p> + +<p>"Come, Joanne. We will go down."</p> + +<p>Hand in hand they went down the stair; and when the minister saw Joanne, +covered in the tangle and glory of her hair; and when he saw John Aldous, +with half-naked arms and blackened face; and when, with these things, he +saw the wonderful joy shining in their eyes, he stood like one struck dumb +at sight of a miracle descending out of the skies. For never had Joanne +looked more beautiful than in this hour, and never had man looked more like +entering into paradise than John Aldous.</p> + +<p>Short and to the point was the little mountain minister's service, and when +he had done he shook hands with them, and again he stared at them as they +went back up the stair, still hand in hand. At her door they stopped. There +were no words to speak now, as her heart lay against his heart, and her +lips against his lips. And then, after those moments, she drew a little +back, and there came suddenly that sweet, quivering, joyous play of her +lips as she said:</p> + +<p>"And now, my husband, may I dress my hair?"</p> + +<p>"My hair," he corrected, and let her go from his arms.</p> + +<p>Her door closed behind her. A little dizzily he turned to his room. His +hand was on the knob when he heard her speak his name. She had reopened her +door, and stood with something in her hand, which she was holding toward +him. He went back, and she gave him a photograph.</p> + +<p>"John, you will destroy this," she whispered. "It is his +photograph—Mortimer FitzHugh's. I brought it to show to people, that it +might help me in my search. Please—destroy it!"</p> + +<p>He returned to his room and placed the photograph on his table. It was +wrapped in thin paper, and suddenly there came upon him a most compelling +desire to see what Mortimer FitzHugh had looked like in life. Joanne would +not care. Perhaps it would be best for him to know.</p> + +<p>He tore off the paper. And as he looked at the picture the hot blood in his +veins ran cold. He stared—stared as if some wild and maddening joke was +being played upon his faculties. A cry rose to his lips and broke in a +gasping breath, and about him the floor, the world itself, seemed slipping +away from under his feet.</p> + +<p>For the picture he held in his hand was the picture of Culver Rann!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<br> + +<p>For a minute, perhaps longer, John Aldous stood staring at the photograph +which he held in his hand. It was the picture of Culver Rann—not once did +he question that fact, and not once did the thought flash upon him that +this might be only an unusual and startling resemblance. It was assuredly +Culver Rann! The picture dropped from his hand to the table, and he went +toward the door. His first impulse was to go to Joanne. But when he reached +the door he locked it, and dropped into a chair, facing the mirror in his +dresser.</p> + +<p>The reflection of his own face was a shock to him. If he was pale, the dust +and grime of his fight in the cavern concealed his pallor. But the face +that stared at him from out of the glass was haggard, wildly and almost +grotesquely haggard, and he turned from it with a grim laugh, and set his +jaws hard. He returned to the table, and bit by bit tore the photograph +into thin shreds, and then piled the shreds on his ash-tray and burned +them. He opened a window to let out the smoke and smell of charring paper, +and the fresh, cool air of early evening struck his face. He could look off +through the fading sunshine of the valley and see the mountain where Coyote +Number Twenty-eight was to have done its work, and as he looked he gripped +the window-sill so fiercely that the nails of his fingers were bent and +broken against the wood. And in his brain the same words kept repeating +themselves over and over again. Mortimer FitzHugh was not dead. He was +alive. He was Culver Rann. And Joanne—Joanne was not <i>his</i> wife; she was +still the wife of Mortimer FitzHugh—of Culver Rann!</p> + +<p>He turned again to the mirror, and there was another look in his face. It +was grim, terribly grim—and smiling. There was no excitement, nothing of +the passion and half-madness with which he had faced Quade and Rann the +night before. He laughed softly, and his nails dug as harshly into the +palms of his hands as they had dug into the sills of the window.</p> + +<p>"You poor, drivelling, cowardly fool!" he said to his reflection. "And you +dare to say—you dare to <i>think</i> that she is not your wife?"</p> + +<p>As if in reply to his words there came a knock at the door, and from the +hall Blackton called:</p> + +<p>"Here's MacDonald, Aldous. He wants to see you."</p> + +<p>Aldous opened the door and the old hunter entered.</p> + +<p>"If I ain't interruptin' you, Johnny——"</p> + +<p>"You're the one man in the world I want to see, Mac. No, I'll take that +back; there's one other I want to see worse than you—Culver Rann."</p> + +<p>The strange look in his face made old Donald stare.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," he said, drawing two chairs close to the table. "There's +something to talk about. It was a terribly close shave, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"An awful close shave, Johnny. As close a shave as ever was."</p> + +<p>Still, as if not quite understanding what he saw, old Donald was staring +into John's face.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it happened," said Aldous, and his voice became softer. "She +loves me, Mac. It all came out when we were in there, and thought we were +going to die. Not ten minutes ago the minister was here, and he made us man +and wife."</p> + +<p>Words of gladness that sprang to the old man's lips were stopped by that +strange, cold, tense look in the face of John Aldous.</p> + +<p>"And in the last five minutes," continued Aldous, as quietly as before, "I +have learned that Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband, is not dead. Is it very +remarkable that you do not find me happy, Mac? If you had come a few +minutes ago——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God! Johnny! Johnny!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald had pitched forward over the table, and now he bowed his great +shaggy head in his hands, and his gaunt shoulders shook as his voice came +brokenly through his beard.</p> + +<p>"I did it, Johnny; I did it for you an' her! When I knew what it would mean +for her—I <i>couldn't</i>, Johnny, I couldn't tell her the truth, 'cause I knew +she loved you, an' you loved her, an' it would break her heart. I thought +it would be best, an' you'd go away together, an' nobody would ever know, +an' you'd be happy. I didn't lie. I didn't say anything. But +Johnny—Johnny, <i>there weren't no bones in the grave!</i>"</p> + +<p>"My God!" breathed Aldous.</p> + +<p>"There were just some clothes," went on MacDonald huskily, "an' the watch +an' the ring were on top. Johnny, there weren't nobody ever buried there, +an' I'm to blame—I'm to blame."</p> + +<p>"And you did that for us," cried Aldous, and suddenly he reached over and +gripped old Donald's hands. "It wasn't a mistake, Mac. I thank God you kept +silent. If you had told her that the grave was empty, that it was a fraud, +I don't know what would have happened. And now—she is <i>mine!</i> If she had +seen Culver Rann, if she had discovered that this scoundrel, this +blackmailer and murderer, was Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband——"</p> + +<p>"Johnny! John Aldous!"</p> + +<p>Donald MacDonald's voice came now like the deep growling roar of a +she-bear, and as he cried the other's name he sprang to his feet, and his +eyes gleamed in their deep sockets like raging fires.</p> + +<p>"Johnny!"</p> + +<p>Aldous rose, and he was smiling. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's it," he said. "Mortimer FitzHugh is Culver Rann!"</p> + +<p>"An'—an' you know this?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. Joanne gave me Mortimer FitzHugh's photograph to destroy. I am +sorry that I burned it before you saw it. But there is no doubt. Mortimer +FitzHugh and Culver Rann are the same man."</p> + +<p>Slowly the old mountaineer turned to the door. Aldous was ahead of him, and +stood with his hand on the knob.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to go yet, Mac."</p> + +<p>"I—I'll see you a little later," said Donald clumsily.</p> + +<p>"Donald!"</p> + +<p>"Johnny!"</p> + +<p>For a full half minute they looked steadily into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Only a week, Johnny," pleaded Donald. "I'll be back in a week."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you will kill him?"</p> + +<p>"He'll never come back. I swear it, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>As gently as he might have led Joanne, Aldous drew the mountaineer back to +the chair.</p> + +<p>"That would be cold-blooded murder," he said, "and I would be the murderer. +I can't send you out to do my killing, Mac, as I might send out a hired +assassin. Don't you see that I can't? Good heaven, some day—very soon—I +will tell you how this hound, Mortimer FitzHugh, poisoned Joanne's life, +and did his worst to destroy her. It's to me he's got to answer, Donald. +And to me he shall answer. I am going to kill him. But it will not be +murder. Since you have come into this room I have made my final plan, and I +shall follow it to the end coolly and deliberately. It will be a great +game, Mac—and it will be a fair game; and I shall play it happily, because +Joanne will not know, and I will be strengthened by her love.</p> + +<p>"Quade wants my life, and tried to hire Stevens, up at Miette, to kill me. +Culver Rann wants my life; a little later it will come to be the greatest +desire of his existence to have me dead and out of the way. I shall give +him the chance to do the killing, Mac. I shall give him a splendid chance, +and he will not fail to accept his opportunity. Perhaps he will have an +advantage, but I am as absolutely certain of killing him as I am that the +sun is going down behind the mountains out there. If others should step +in, if I should have more than Culver Rann on my hands—why, then you may +deal yourself a hand if you like, Donald. It may be a bigger game than One +against One."</p> + +<p>"It will," rumbled MacDonald. "I learned other things early this afternoon, +Johnny. Quade did not stay behind. He went with Rann. DeBar and the woman +are with them, and two other men. They went over the Lone Cache Pass, and +this minute are hurrying straight for the headwaters of the Parsnip. There +are five of 'em—five men."</p> + +<p>"And we are two," smiled Aldous. "So there <i>is</i> an advantage on their side, +isn't there, Mac? And it makes the game most eminently fair, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Johnny, we're good for the five!" cried old Donald in a low, eager voice. +"If we start now——"</p> + +<p>"Can you have everything ready by morning?"</p> + +<p>"The outfit's waiting. It's ready now, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll leave at dawn. I'll come to you to-night in the coulee, and +we'll make our final plans. My brain is a little muddled now, and I've got +to clear it, and make myself presentable before supper. We must not let +Joanne know. She must suspect nothing—absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing," repeated MacDonald as he went to the door.</p> + +<p>There he paused and, hesitating for a moment, leaned close to Aldous, and +said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Johnny, I've been wondering why the grave were empty. I've been wondering +why there weren't somebody's bones there just t' give it the look it should +'a' had an' why the clothes were laid out so nicely with the watch an' the +ring on top!"</p> + +<p>With that he was gone, and Aldous closed and relocked the door.</p> + +<p>He was amazed at his own composure as he washed himself and proceeded to +dress for supper. What had happened had stunned him at first, had even +terrified him for a few appalling moments. Now he was superbly +self-possessed. He asked himself questions and answered them with a +promptness which left no room for doubt in his mind as to what his actions +should be. One fact he accepted as absolute: Joanne belonged to him. She +was his wife. He regarded her as that, even though Mortimer FitzHugh was +alive. In the eyes of both God and man FitzHugh no longer had a claim upon +her. This man, who was known as Culver Rann, was worse than Quade, a +scoundrel of the first water, a procurer, a blackmailer, even a +murderer—though he had thus far succeeded in evading the rather loose and +poorly working tentacles of mountain law.</p> + +<p>Not for an instant did he think of Joanne as Culver Rann's wife. She was +<i>his</i> wife. It was merely a technicality of the law—a technicality that +Joanne might break with her little finger—that had risen now between them +and happiness. And it was this that he knew was the mountain in his path, +for he was certain that Joanne would not break that last link of bondage. +She would know, with Mortimer FitzHugh alive, that the pledge between them +in the "coyote," and the marriage ceremony in the room below, meant +nothing. Legally, she was no more to him now than she was yesterday, or the +day before. And she would leave him, even if it destroyed her, heart and +soul. He was sure of that. For years she had suffered her heart to be +ground out of her because of the "bit of madness" that was in her, because +of that earlier tragedy in her life—and her promise, her pledge to her +father, her God, and herself. Without arguing a possible change in her +because of her love for him, John Aldous accepted these things. He believed +that if he told Joanne the truth he would lose her.</p> + +<p>His determination not to tell her, to keep from her the secret of the grave +and the fact that Mortimer FitzHugh was alive, grew stronger in him with +each breath that he drew. He believed that it was the right thing to do, +that it was the honourable and the only thing to do. Now that the first +shock was over, he did not feel that he had lost Joanne, or that there was +a very great danger of losing her. For a moment it occurred to him that he +might turn the law upon Culver Rann, and in the same breath he laughed at +this absurdity. The law could not help him. He alone could work out his own +and Joanne's salvation. And what was to happen must happen very soon—up in +the mountains. When it was all over, and he returned, he would tell Joanne.</p> + +<p>His heart beat more quickly as he finished dressing. In a few minutes more +he would be with Joanne, and in spite of what had happened, and what might +happen, he was happy. Yesterday he had dreamed. To-day was reality—and it +was a glorious reality. Joanne belonged to him. She loved him. She was his +wife, and when he went to her it was with the feeling that only a serpent +lay in the path of their paradise—a serpent which he would crush with as +little compunction as that serpent would have destroyed her. Utterly and +remorselessly his mind was made up.</p> + +<p>The Blacktons' supper hour was five-thirty, and he was a quarter of an hour +late when he tapped at Joanne's door. He felt the warmth of a strange and +delightful embarrassment flushing his face as the door opened, and she +stood before him. In her face, too, was a telltale riot of colour which the +deep tan partly concealed in his own.</p> + +<p>"I—I am a little late, am I not, Joanne?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You are, sir. If you have taken all this time dressing you are worse than +a woman. I have been waiting fifteen minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Old Donald came to see me," he apologized. "Joanne——"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't, John!" she expostulated in a whisper. "My face is afire now! +You mustn't kiss me again—until after supper——"</p> + +<p>"Only once," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>"If you will promise—just once——"</p> + +<p>A moment later she gasped:</p> + +<p>"Five times! John Aldous, I will never believe you again as long as I +live!"</p> + +<p>They went down to the Blacktons, and Peggy and Paul, who were busy over +some growing geraniums in the dining-room window, faced about with a forced +and incongruous appearance of total oblivion to everything that had +happened. It lasted less than ten seconds. Joanne's lips quivered. Aldous +saw the two little dimples at the corners of her mouth fighting to keep +themselves out of sight—and then he looked at Peggy. Blackton could stand +it no longer, and grinned broadly.</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake go to it, Peggy!" he laughed. "If you don't you'll +explode!"</p> + +<p>The next moment Peggy and Joanne were in each other's arms, and the two men +were shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"We know just how you feel," Blackton tried to explain. "We felt just like +you do, only we had to face twenty people instead of two. And you're not +hungry. I'll wager that. I'll bet you don't feel like swallowing a +mouthful. It had that peculiar effect on us, didn't it, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"And I—I almost choked myself," gurgled Peggy as they took their places at +the table. "There really did seem to be something thick in my throat, +Joanne, dear. I coughed and coughed and coughed before all those people +until I wanted to die right there! And I'm wondering——"</p> + +<p>"If I'm going to choke, too?" smiled Joanne. "Indeed not, Peggy. I'm as +hungry as a bear!"</p> + +<p>And now she did look glorious and self-possessed to Aldous as she sat +opposite him at that small round table, which was just fitted for four. He +told her so when the meal was finished, and they were following the +Blacktons into the front room. Blackton had evidently been carefully +drilled along the line of a certain scheme which Peggy had formed, for in +spite of a negative nod from her, which signified that he was to wait a +while, he pulled out his watch, and said:</p> + +<p>"It isn't at all surprising if you people have forgotten that to-morrow is +Sunday. Peggy and I always do some Saturday-night shopping, and if you +don't mind, we'll leave you to care for the house while we go to town. We +won't be gone more than an hour."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when the door had closed behind them, Aldous led +Joanne to a divan, and sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't have arranged it better myself, dear," he exclaimed. "I have +been wondering how I could have you alone for a few minutes, and tell you +what is on my mind before I see MacDonald again to-night. I'm afraid you +will be displeased with me, Joanne. I hardly know how to begin. But—I've +got to."</p> + +<p>A moment's uneasiness came into her eyes as she saw how seriously he was +speaking.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean, John—there's more about Quade—and Culver Rann?"</p> + +<p>"No, no—nothing like that," he laughed, as though amused at the absurdity +of her question. "Old Donald tells me they have skipped the country, +Joanne. It's not that. It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of +me a minute from now. Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald. He has +lived in my promise. I've got to keep that promise—I must go into the +North with him."</p> + +<p>She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her +own soft palm and fingers.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you must, John. I love old Donald."</p> + +<p>"And I must go—soon," he added.</p> + +<p>"It is only fair to him that you should," she agreed.</p> + +<p>"He—he is determined we shall go in the morning," he finished, keeping his +eyes from her.</p> + +<p>For a moment Joanne did not answer. Her fingers interweaved with his, her +warm little palm stroked the rough back of his hand. Then she said, very +softly:</p> + +<p>"And why do you think that will displease me, John, dear? I will be ready!"</p> + +<p>"You!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were on him, full, and dark, and glowing, and in them were both +love and laughter.</p> + +<p>"You dear silly John!" she laughed. "Why don't you come right out and tell +me to stay at home, instead of—of—'beating 'round the bush'—as Peggy +Blackton says? Only you don't know what a terrible little person you've +got, John. You really don't. So you needn't say any more. We'll start in +the morning—and I am going with you!"</p> + +<p>In a flash John Aldous saw his whole scheme shaking on its foundation.</p> + +<p>"It's impossible—utterly impossible!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"And why utterly?" she asked, bending her head so that her soft hair +touched his face and lips. "John, have you already forgotten what we said +in that terrible cavern—what we told ourselves we would have done if we +had lived? We were going adventuring, weren't we? And we are not dead—but +alive. And this will be a glorious trip! Why, John, don't you see, don't +you understand? It will be our honeymoon trip!"</p> + +<p>"It will be a long, rough journey," he argued. "It will be hard—hard for a +woman."</p> + +<p>With a little laugh, Joanne sprang up and stood before him in a glow of +light, tall, and slim, and splendid, and there was a sparkle of beautiful +defiance and a little of triumph in her eyes as she looked down on him.</p> + +<p>"And it will be dangerous, too? You are going to tell me that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will be dangerous."</p> + +<p>She came to him and rumpled up his hair, and turned his face up so that she +could look into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is it worse than fever, and famine, and deep swamps, and crawling +jungles?" she asked. "Are we going to encounter worse things than beasts, +and poisonous serpents, and murderous savages—even hunger and thirst, +John? For many years we dared those together—my father and I. Are these +great, big, beautiful mountains more treacherous than those Ceylon jungles +from which you ran away—even you, John? Are they more terrible to live in +than the Great African Desert? Are your bears worse than tigers, your +wolves more terrible than lions? And if, through years and years, I faced +those things with my father, do you suppose that I want to be left behind +now, and by my husband?"</p> + +<p>So sweet and wonderful was the sound of that name as it came softly from +her lips, that in his joy he forgot the part he was playing, and drew her +close down in his arms, and in that moment all that remained of the scheme +he had built for keeping her behind crumbled in ruin about him.</p> + +<p>Yet in a last effort he persisted.</p> + +<p>"Old Donald wants to travel fast—very fast, Joanne. I owe a great deal to +him. Even you I owe to him—for he saved us from the 'coyote.'"</p> + +<p>"I am going, John."</p> + +<p>"If we went alone we would be able to return very soon."</p> + +<p>"I am going."</p> + +<p>"And some of the mountains—it is impossible for a woman to climb them!"</p> + +<p>"Then I will let you carry me up them, John. You are so strong——"</p> + +<p>He groaned hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"Joanne, won't you stay with the Blacktons, to please me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I don't care to please you."</p> + +<p>Her fingers were stroking his cheek.</p> + +<p>"John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Father taught me to shoot, and as we get better acquainted on our +honeymoon trip I'll tell you about some of my hunting adventures. I don't +like to shoot wild things, because I love them too well. But I can shoot. +And I want a gun!"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!"</p> + +<p>"Not a toy—but a real gun," she continued. "A gun like yours. And then, if +by any chance we should have trouble—with Culver Rann——"</p> + +<p>She felt him start, and her hands pressed harder against his face.</p> + +<p>"Now I know," she whispered. "I guessed it all along. You told me that +Culver Rann and the others were after the gold. They've gone—and their +going isn't quite 'skipping the country' as you meant me to understand it, +John Aldous! So please let's not argue any more. If we do we may quarrel, +and that would be terrible. I'm going. And I will be ready in the morning. +And I want a gun. And I want you to be nice to me, and I want it to be our +honeymoon—even if it is going to be exciting!"</p> + +<p>And with that she put her lips to his, and his last argument was gone.</p> + +<p>Two hours later, when he went to the coulee, he was like one who had come +out of a strange and disturbing and altogether glorious dream. He had told +Joanne and the Blacktons that it was necessary for him to be with MacDonald +that night. Joanne's good-night kiss was still warm on his lips, the loving +touch of her hands still trembled on his face, and the sweet perfume of her +hair was in his nostrils. He was drunk with the immeasurable happiness that +had come to him, every fibre in him was aquiver with it—and yet, possessed +of his great joy, he was conscious of a fear; a fear that was new and +growing, and which made him glad when he came at last to the little fire in +the coulee.</p> + +<p>He did not tell MacDonald the cause of this fear at first. He told the +story of Mortimer FitzHugh and Joanne, leaving no part of it unbared, until +he could see Donald MacDonald's great gaunt hands clenching in the +firelight, and his cavernous eyes flaming darkly through the gloom. Then he +told what had happened when the Blacktons went to town, and when he had +finished, and rose despairingly beside the fire, Donald rose, too, and his +voice boomed in a sort of ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"My Jane would ha' done likewise," he cried in triumph. "She would that, +Johnny—she would!"</p> + +<p>"But this is different!" groaned Aldous. "What am I going to do, Mac? What +can I do? Don't you see how impossible it is! Mac, Mac—she isn't my +wife—not entirely, not absolutely, not in the last and vital sense of +being a wife by law! If she knew the truth, she wouldn't consider herself +my wife; she would leave me. For that reason I can't take her. I can't. +Think what it would mean!"</p> + +<p>Old Donald had come close to his side, and at the look in the gray old +mountaineer's face John Aldous paused. Slowly Donald laid his hands on his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Johnny," he said gently, "Johnny, be you sure of yourself? Be you a man, +Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Good heaven, Donald. You mean——"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met steadily.</p> + +<p>"If you are, Johnny," went on MacDonald in a low voice, "I'd take her with +me. An' if you ain't, I'd leave these mount'ins to-night an' never look in +her sweet face again as long as I lived."</p> + +<p>"You'd take her along?" demanded Aldous eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I would. I've been thinkin' it over to-night. An' something seemed to tell +me we mustn't dare leave her here alone. There's just two things to do, +Johnny. You've got to stay with her an' let me go on alone or—you've got +to take her."</p> + +<p>Slowly Aldous shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was a little after +ten.</p> + +<p>"If I could make myself believe that she would not be safe here—I would +take her," he said. "But I can't quite make up my mind to that, Mac. She +will be in good hands with the Blacktons. I will warn Paul. Joanne is +determined to go, and I know she will think it pretty indecent to be told +emphatically that she can't go. But I've got to do it. I can't see——"</p> + +<p>A break in the stillness of the night stopped him with the suddenness of a +bullet in his brain. It was a scream—a woman's scream, and there followed +it shriek after shriek, until the black forest trembled with the fear and +agony of the cries, and John Aldous stood as if suddenly stripped of the +power to move or act. Donald MacDonald roused him to life. With a roar in +his beard, he sprang forth into the darkness. And Aldous followed, a hot +sweat of fear in his blood where a moment before had been only a chill of +wonder and horror. For in Donald's savage beastlike cry he had caught +Joanne's name, and an answering cry broke from his own lips as he followed +the great gaunt form that was tearing with the madness of a wounded bear +ahead of him through the night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<br> + +<p>Not until they had rushed up out of the coulee and had reached the pathlike +trail did the screaming cease. For barely an instant MacDonald paused, and +then ran on with a speed that taxed Aldous to keep up. When they came to +the little open amphitheatre in the forest MacDonald halted again. Their +hearts were thumping like hammers, and the old mountaineer's voice came +husky and choking when he spoke.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't far—from here!" he panted.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he uttered the words when he sped on again. Three minutes +later they came to where the trail crossed the edge of a small +rock-cluttered meadow, and with a sudden spurt Aldous darted ahead of +MacDonald into this opening, where he saw two figures in the moonlight. +Half a dozen feet from them he stopped with a cry of horror. They were Paul +and Peggy Blackton! Peggy was dishevelled and sobbing, and was frantically +clutching at her husband. It was Paul Blackton who dragged the cry from his +lips. The contractor was swaying. He was hatless; his face was covered with +blood, and his eyes were only half open, as if he were fighting to pull +himself back into consciousness after a terrible blow. Peggy's hair was +down, her dress was torn at the throat, and she was panting so that for a +moment she could not speak.</p> + +<p>"They've got—Joanne!" she cried then. "They went—there!"</p> + +<p>She pointed, and Aldous ran where she pointed—into the timber on the far +side of the little meadow. MacDonald caught his arm as they ran.</p> + +<p>"You go straight in," he commanded. "I'll swing—to right—toward +river——"</p> + +<p>For two minutes after that Aldous tore straight ahead. Then for barely a +moment he stopped. He had not paused to question Peggy Blackton. His own +fears told him who Joanne's abductors were. They were men working under +instructions from Quade. And they could not be far away, for scarcely ten +minutes had passed since the first scream. He listened, and held his breath +so that the terrific beating of his heart would not drown the sound of +crackling brush. All at once the blood in him was frozen by a fierce yell. +It was MacDonald, a couple of hundred yards to his right, and after that +yell came the bellowing shout of his name.</p> + +<p>"Johnny! Johnny! Oh, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>He dashed in MacDonald's direction, and a few moments later heard the +crashing of bodies in the undergrowth. Fifty seconds more and he was in the +arena. MacDonald was fighting three men in a space over which the +spruce-tops grew thinly. The moon shone upon them as they swayed in a +struggling mass, and as Aldous sprang to the combat one of the three reeled +backward and fell as if struck by a battering-ram. In that same moment +MacDonald went down, and Aldous struck a terrific blow with the butt of his +heavy Savage. He missed, and the momentum of his blow carried him over +MacDonald. He tripped and fell. By the time he had regained his, feet the +two men had disappeared into the thick shadows of the spruce forest. Aldous +whirled toward the third man, whom he had seen fall. He, too, had +disappeared. A little lamely old Donald brought himself to his feet. He was +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Now, what do 'ee think, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Where is she? Where is Joanne?" demanded Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Twenty feet behind you, Johnny, gagged an' trussed up nice as a whistle! +If they hadn't stopped to do that work you wouldn't ha' seen her ag'in, +Johnny—s'elp me, God, you wouldn't! They was hikin' for the river. Once +they had reached the Frazer, and a boat——"</p> + +<p>He broke off to lead Aldous to a clump of dwarf spruce. Behind this, white +and still in the moonlight, but with eyes wide open and filled with horror, +lay Joanne. Hands and feet were bound, and a big handkerchief was tied over +her mouth. Twenty seconds later Aldous held her shivering and sobbing and +laughing hysterically by turns in his arms, while MacDonald's voice brought +Paul and Peggy Blackton to them. Blackton had recovered from the blow that +had dazed him. Over Joanne's head he stared at Aldous. And MacDonald was +staring at Blackton. His eyes were burning a little darkly.</p> + +<p>"It's all come out right," he said, "but it ain't a special nice time o' +night to be taking a' evening walk in this locality with a couple o' +ladies!"</p> + +<p>Blackton was still staring at Aldous, with Peggy clutching his arm as if +afraid of losing him.</p> + +<p>It was Peggy who answered MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"And it was a nice time of night for you to send a message asking us to +bring Joanne down the trail!" she cried, her voice trembling.</p> + +<p>"We——" began Aldous, when he saw a sudden warning movement on MacDonald's +part, and stopped. "Let us take the ladies home," he said.</p> + +<p>With Joanne clinging to him, he led the way. Behind them all MacDonald +growled loudly:</p> + +<p>"There's got t' be something done with these damned beasts of furriners. +It's gettin' so no woman ain't safe at night!"</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later they reached the bungalow. Leaving Joanne and Peggy +inside, now as busily excited as two phoebe birds, and after Joanne had +insisted upon Aldous sleeping at the Blacktons' that night, the two men +accompanied MacDonald a few steps on his way back to camp.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were out of earshot Blackton began cursing softly under his +breath.</p> + +<p>"So you didn't send that damned note?" he asked. "You haven't said so, but +I've guessed you didn't send it!"</p> + +<p>"No, we didn't send a note."</p> + +<p>"And you had a reason—you and MacDonald—for not wanting the girls to know +the truth?"</p> + +<p>"A mighty good reason," said Aldous. "I've got to thank MacDonald for +closing my mouth at the right moment. I was about to give it away. And now, +Blackton, I've got to confide in you. But before I do that I want your word +that you will repeat nothing of what I say to another person—even your +wife."</p> + +<p>Blackton nodded.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said. "I've suspected a thing or two, Aldous. I'll give you my +word. Go on."</p> + +<p>As briefly as possible, and without going deeply into detail, Aldous told +of Quade and his plot to secure possession of Joanne.</p> + +<p>"And this is his work," he finished. "I've told you this, Paul, so that you +won't worry about Peggy. You can see from to-night's events that they were +not after her, but wanted Joanne. Joanne must not learn the truth. And your +wife must not know. I am going to settle with Quade. Just how and where and +when I'm going to settle with him I don't care to say now. But he's going +to answer to me. And he's going to answer soon."</p> + +<p>Blackton whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"A boy brought the note," he said. "He stood in the dark when he handed it +to me. And I didn't recognize any one of the three men who jumped out on +us. I didn't have much of a chance to fight, but if there's any one on the +face of the earth who has got it over Peggy when it comes to screaming, I'd +like to know her name! Joanne didn't have time to make a sound. But they +didn't touch Peggy until she began screaming, and then one of the men began +choking her. They had about laid me out with a club, so I was helpless. +Good God——"</p> + +<p>He shuddered.</p> + +<p>"They were river men," said MacDonald. "Probably some of Tomman's scow-men. +They were making for the river."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when Aldous was saying good-night to MacDonald, the +old hunter said again, in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Now what do 'ee think, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"That you're right, Mac," replied Aldous in a low voice. "There is no +longer a choice. Joanne must go with us. You will come early?"</p> + +<p>"At dawn, Johnny."</p> + +<p>He returned to the bungalow with Blackton, and until midnight the lights +there burned brightly while the two men answered a thousand questions about +the night's adventure, and Aldous told of his and Joanne's plans for the +honeymoon trip into the North that was to begin the next day.</p> + +<p>It was half-past twelve when be locked the door of his and sat down to +think.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>There was no doubt in the mind of John Aldous now. The attempt upon Joanne +left him but one course to pursue: he must take her with him, in spite of +the monumental objections which he had seen a few hours before. He realized +what a fight this would mean for him, and with what cleverness and resource +he must play his part. Joanne had not given herself to him as she had once +given herself to Mortimer FitzHugh. In the "coyote," when they had faced +death, she had told him that were there to be a to-morrow in life for them +she would have given herself to him utterly and without reservation. And +that to-morrow had dawned. It was present. She was his wife. And she had +come to him as she had promised. In her eyes he had seen love and trust and +faith—and a glorious happiness. She had made no effort to hide that +happiness from him. Consciousness of it filled him with his own great +happiness, and yet it made him realize even more deeply how hard his fight +was to be. She was his wife. In a hundred little ways she had shown him +that she was proud of her wifehood. And again he told himself that she had +come to him as she had promised, that she had given into his keeping all +that she had to give. And yet—<i>she was not his wife!</i></p> + +<p>He groaned aloud, and his fingers dug into the flesh of his knees as he +thought of that. Could he keep that terrible truth from her? If she went +with him into the North, would she not guess? And, even though he kept the +truth from her until Mortimer FitzHugh was dead, would he be playing fair +with her? Again he went over all that he had gone over before. He knew that +Joanne would leave him to-morrow, and probably forever, if he told her that +FitzHugh was alive. The law could not help him, for only death—and never +divorce—would free her. Within himself he decided for the last time. He +was about to do the one thing left for him to do. And it was the honourable +thing, for it meant freedom for her and happiness for them both. To him, +Donald MacDonald had become a man who lived very close to the heart and the +right of things, and Donald had said that he should take her. This was the +greatest proof that he was right.</p> + +<p>But could he keep Joanne from guessing? Could he keep her from discovering +the truth until it was time for her to know that truth? In this necessity +of keeping her from suspecting that something was wrong he saw his greatest +fight. Compared with it, the final settlement with Quade and Mortimer +FitzHugh sank into a second importance. He knew what would happen then. But +Joanne—Joanne on the trail, as his wife——</p> + +<p>He began pacing back and forth in his room, clouding himself in the smoke +of his pipe. Frequently Joanne's mind had filled him with an exquisite +delight by its quickness and at times almost magic perceptiveness, and he +realized that in these things, and the fineness of her woman's intuition, +now lay his greatest menace. He was sure that she understood the meaning of +the assault upon her that night, though she had apparently believed what +he and Blackton had told them—that it had been the attack of +irresponsible and drunken hoodlums. Yet he was certain that she had already +guessed that Quade had been responsible.</p> + +<p>He went to bed, dreading what questions and new developments the morning +might bring forth. And when the morning came, he was both amazed and +delighted. The near tragedy of the previous night might never have happened +in so far as he could judge from Joanne's appearance. When she came out of +her room to meet him, in the glow of a hall lamp, her eyes were like stars, +and the colour in her cheeks was like that of a rose fresh from its slumber +in dew.</p> + +<p>"I'm so happy, and what happened last night seems so like a bad dream," she +whispered, as he held her close to him for a few moments before descending +the stairs. "I shall worry about Peggy, John. I shall. I don't understand +how her husband dares to bring her among savages like these. You wouldn't +leave me among them, would you?" And as she asked the question, and his +lips pressed hers, John Aldous still believed that in her heart she knew +the truth of that night attack.</p> + +<p>If she did know, she kept her secret from him all that day. They left Tête +Jaune before sunrise with an outfit which MacDonald had cut down to six +horses. Its smallness roused Joanne's first question, for Aldous had +described to her an outfit of twenty horses. He explained that a large +outfit made travel much more difficult and slow, but he did not tell her +that with six horses instead of twenty they could travel less +conspicuously, more easily conceal themselves from enemies, and, if +necessary, make quick flight or swift pursuit.</p> + +<p>They stopped to camp for the night in a little basin that drew from Joanne +an exclamation of joy and wonder. They had reached the upper timber-line, +and on three sides the basin was shut in by treeless and brush-naked walls +of the mountains. In the centre of the dip was a lake fed by a tiny stream +that fell in a series of ribbonlike cataracts a sheer thousand feet from +the snow-peaks that towered above them. Small, parklike clumps of spruce +dotted the miniature valley; over it hung a sky as blue as sapphire and +under their feet was a carpet of soft grass sprayed with little blue +forget-me-nots and wild asters.</p> + +<p>"I have never seen anything a half so beautiful as this!" cried Joanne, as +Aldous helped her from her horse.</p> + +<p>As her feet touched the ground she gave a little cry and hung limply in his +arms.</p> + +<p>"I'm lame—lame for life!" she laughed in mock humour. "John, I can't +stand. I really can't!"</p> + +<p>Old Donald was chuckling in his beard as he came up.</p> + +<p>"You ain't nearly so lame as you'll be to-morrow," he comforted her. "An' +you won't be nearly so lame to-morrow as you'll be next day. Then you'll +begin to get used to it, Mis' Joanne."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mrs. Aldous</i>, Donald," she corrected sweetly. "Or—just Joanne."</p> + +<p>At that Aldous found himself holding her so closely that she gave a little +gasp.</p> + +<p>"Please don't," she expostulated. "Your arms are terribly strong, John!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald had turned away, still chuckling, and began to unpack. Joanne +looked behind her, then quickly held up her softly pouted lips. Aldous +kissed her, and would have kissed her again but she slipped suddenly from +his arms and going to Pinto began to untie a dishpan that was fastened to +the top of his pack.</p> + +<p>"Get to work, John Aldous!" she commanded.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had camped before in the basin, and there were tepee poles ready +cut, as light and dry as matchwood. Joanne watched them as they put up the +tent, and when it was done, and she looked inside, she cried delightedly:</p> + +<p>"It's the snuggest little home I ever had, John!"</p> + +<p>After that she busied herself in a way that was a constantly growing +pleasure to him. She took possession at once of pots and pans and kettles. +She lost no time in impressing upon both Aldous and MacDonald the fact that +while she was their docile follower on the trail she was to be at the head +of affairs in camp. While they were straightening out the outfit, hobbling +the horses, and building a fire, she rummaged through the panniers and took +stock of their provisions. She bossed old Donald in a manner that made him +fairly glow with pleasure. She bared her white arms to the elbows and made +biscuits for the "reflector" instead of bannock, while Aldous brought water +from the lake, and MacDonald cut wood. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes +were laughing, joyous, happy. MacDonald seemed years younger. He obeyed her +like a boy, and once Aldous caught him looking at her in a way that set him +thinking again of those days of years and years ago, and of other camps, +and of another woman—like Joanne.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had thought of this first camp—and there were porterhouse steaks +for supper, which he had brought packed in a kettle of ice. When they sat +down to the meal, Joanne was facing a distant snow-capped ridge that cut +the skyline, and the last of the sun, reflected from the face of the +mountain on the east, had set brown-and-gold fires aglow in her hair. They +were partly through when her eyes rested on the distant snow-ridge. Aldous +saw her looking steadily. Suddenly she pointed beyond him.</p> + +<p>"I see something moving over the snow on that mountain!" she cried a little +excitedly. "It is hurrying toward the summit—just under the skyline! What +is it?"</p> + +<p>Aldous and MacDonald looked toward the ridge. Fully a mile away, almost +even with the skyline now, a small dark object was moving over the white +surface of the snow.</p> + +<p>"It ain't a goat," said MacDonald, "because a goat is white, and we +couldn't see it on the snow. It ain't a sheep, 'cause it's too dark, an' +movin' too slow. It must be a bear, but why in the name o' sin a bear would +be that high, I don't know!"</p> + +<p>He jumped up and ran for his telescope.</p> + +<p>"A grizzly," whispered Joanne tensely. "Would it be a grizzly, John?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly," he answered. "Indeed, it's very likely. This is a grizzly +country. If we hurry you can get a look at him through the telescope."</p> + +<p>MacDonald was already studying the object through his long glass when they +joined him.</p> + +<p>"It's a bear," he said.</p> + +<p>"Please—please let me look at him," begged Joanne.</p> + +<p>The dark object was now almost on the skyline. Half A minute more and it +would pass over and out of sight. MacDonald still held his eye to the +telescope, as though he had not heard Joanne. Not until the moving object +had crossed the skyline, and had disappeared, did he reply to her.</p> + +<p>"The light's bad, an' you couldn't have made him out very well," he said. +"We'll show you plenty o' grizzlies, an' so near you won't want a +telescope. Eh, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>As he looked at Aldous there was a strange look in his eyes, and during the +remainder of the supper he was restless, and ate hurriedly. When he had +finished he rose and picked up his long rifle.</p> + +<p>"There's sheep somewhere near this basin, Johnny," he explained. "An' I +reckon Joanne'll scold us if we don't keep her in fresh meat. I'm goin' to +bring in some mutton if there's any to be got, an' I probably won't be back +until after dark."</p> + +<p>Aldous knew that he had more to say, and he went with him a few steps +beyond the camp.</p> + +<p>And MacDonald continued in a low, troubled voice:</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Johnny. Watch yo'rself. I'm going to take a look over into the +next valley, an' I won't be back until late. It wasn't a goat, an' it +wasn't a sheep, an' it wasn't a bear. It was two-legged! It was a man, +Johnny, an' he was there to watch this trail, or my name ain't Donald +MacDonald. Mebby he came ahead of us last night, an' mebby he was here +before that happened. Anyway, be on your guard while I look over into the +next range."</p> + +<p>With that he struck off in the direction of the snow-ridge, and for a few +moments Aldous stood looking after the tall, picturesque figure until it +disappeared behind a clump of spruce. Swiftly he was telling himself that +it was not the hunting season, and that it was not a prospector whom they +had seen on the snow-ridge. As a matter of caution, there could be but one +conclusion to draw. The man had been stationed there either by Quade or +FitzHugh, or both, and had unwittingly revealed himself.</p> + +<p>He turned toward Joanne, who had already begun to gather up the supper +things. He could hear her singing happily, and as he looked she pressed a +finger to her lips and threw a kiss to him. His heart smote him even as he +smiled and waved a hand in response. Then he went to her. How slim and +wonderful she looked in that glow of the setting sun, he thought. How white +and soft were her hands, how tender and fragile her lovely neck! And how +helpless—how utterly helpless she would be if anything happened to him and +MacDonald! With an effort he flung the thought from him. On his knees he +wiped the dishes and pots and pans for Joanne. When this was done, he +seized an axe and showed her how to gather a bed. This was a new and +delightful experience for Joanne.</p> + +<p>"You always want to cut balsam boughs when you can get them," he explained, +pausing before two small trees. "Now, this is a cedar, and this is a +balsam. Notice how prickly and needlelike on all sides these cedar branches +are. And now look at the balsam. The needles lay flat and soft. Balsam +makes the best bed you can get in the North, except moss, and you've got to +dry the moss."</p> + +<p>For fifteen minutes he clipped off the soft ends of the balsam limbs and +Joanne gathered them in her arms and carried them into the tepee. Then he +went in with her, and showed her how to make the bed. He made it a narrow +bed, and a deep bed, and he knew that Joanne was watching him, and he was +glad the tan hid the uncomfortable glow in his face when he had finished +tucking in the end of the last blanket.</p> + +<p>"You will be as cozy as can be in that," he said.</p> + +<p>"And you, John?" she asked, her face flushing rosily. "I haven't seen +another tent for you and Donald."</p> + +<p>"We don't sleep in a tent during the summer," he said. "Just our +blankets—out in the open."</p> + +<p>"But—if it should rain?"</p> + +<p>"We get under a balsam or a spruce or a thick cedar."</p> + +<p>A little later they stood beside the fire. It was growing dusk. The distant +snow-ridge was swiftly fading into a pale and ghostly sheet in the gray +gloom of the night. Up that ridge Aldous knew that MacDonald was toiling.</p> + +<p>Joanne put her hands to his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Are you sorry—so very, very sorry that you let me come, John?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't let you come," he laughed softly, drawing her to him. "You came!"</p> + +<p>"And are you sorry?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>It was deliciously sweet to have her tilt up her head and put her soft lips +to his, and it was still sweeter when her tender hands stroked his cheeks, +and eyes and lips smiled their love and gladness. He stood stroking her +hair, with her face laying warm and close against him, and over her head he +stared into the thickening darkness of the spruce and cedar copses. Joanne +herself had piled wood on the fire, and in its glow they were dangerously +illuminated. With one of her hands she was still caressing his cheek.</p> + +<p>"When will Donald return?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Probably not until late," he replied, wondering what it was that had set a +stone rolling down the side of the mountain nearest to them. "He hunted +until dark, and may wait for the moon to come up before he returns."</p> + +<p>"John——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear?——" And mentally he measured the distance to the nearest clump +of timber between them and the mountain.</p> + +<p>"Let's build a big fire, and sit down on the pannier canvases."</p> + +<p>His eyes were still on the timber, and he was wondering what a man with a +rifle, or even a pistol, might do at that space. He made a good target, and +MacDonald was probably several miles away.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking about the fire," he said. "We must put it out, Joanne. +There are reasons why we should not let it burn. For one thing, the smoke +will drive any game away that we may hope to see in the morning."</p> + +<p>Her hands lay still against his cheek.</p> + +<p>"I—understand, John," she replied quickly, and there was the smallest bit +of a shudder in her voice. "I had forgotten. We must put it out!"</p> + +<p>Five minutes later only a few glowing embers remained where the fire had +been. He had spread out the pannier canvases, and now he seated himself +with his back to a tree. Joanne snuggled close to him.</p> + +<p>"It is much nicer in the dark," she whispered, and her arms reached up +about him, and her lips pressed warm and soft against his hand. "Are you +just a little ashamed of me, John?"</p> + +<p>"Ashamed? Good heaven——"</p> + +<p>"Because," she interrupted him, "we have known each other such a very short +time, and I have allowed myself to become so very, very well acquainted +with you. It has all been so delightfully sudden, and strange, and I +am—just as happy as I can be. You don't think it is immodest for me to say +these things to my husband, John—even if I have only known him three +days?"</p> + +<p>He answered by crushing her so closely in his arms that for a few moments +afterward she lay helplessly on his breast, gasping for breath. His brain +was afire with the joyous madness of possession. Never had woman come to +man more sweetly than Joanne had come to him, and as he felt her throbbing +and trembling against him he was ready to rise up and shout forth a +challenge to a hundred Quades and Culver Ranns hiding in the darkness of +the mountains. For a long time he held her nestled close in his arms, and +at intervals there were silences between them, in which they listened to +the glad tumult of their own hearts, and the strange silence that came to +them from out of the still night.</p> + +<p>It was their first hour alone—of utter oblivion to all else but +themselves; to Joanne the first sacrament hour of her wifehood, to him the +first hour of perfect possession and understanding. In that hour their +souls became one, and when at last they rose to their feet, and the moon +came up over a crag of the mountain and flooded them in its golden light, +there was in Joanne's face a tenderness and a gentle glory that made John +Aldous think of an angel. He led her to the tepee, and lighted a candle +for her, and at the last, with the sweet demand of a child in the manner of +her doing it, she pursed up her lips to be kissed good-night.</p> + +<p>And when he had tied the tent-flap behind her, he took his rifle and sat +down with it across his knees in the deep black shadow of a spruce, and +waited and listened for the coming of Donald MacDonald.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<br> + +<p>For an hour after Joanne had gone into her tent Aldous sat silent and +watchful. From where he had concealed himself he could see over a part of +the moonlit basin, and guard the open space between the camp and the clump +of timber that lay in the direction of the nearest mountain. After Joanne +had blown out her candle the silence of the night seemed to grow deeper +about him. The hobbled horses had wandered several hundred yards away, and +only now and then could he hear the thud of a hoof, or the clank of a steel +shoe on rock. He believed that it was impossible for any one to approach +without ears and eyes giving him warning, and he felt a distinct shock when +Donald MacDonald suddenly appeared in the moonlight not twenty paces from +him. With an ejaculation of amazement he jumped to his feet and went to +him.</p> + +<p>"How the deuce did you get here?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Were you asleep, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"I was awake—and watching!"</p> + +<p>The old hunter chuckled.</p> + +<p>"It was so still when I come to those trees back there that I thought mebby +something had 'appened," he said.</p> + +<p>"So, I sneaked up, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything over the range?" asked Aldous anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I found footprints in the snow, an' when I got to the top I smelled smoke, +but couldn't see a fire. It was dark then." MacDonald nodded toward the +tepee. "Is she asleep, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. She must be very tired."</p> + +<p>They drew back into the shadow of the spruce. It was a simultaneous +movement of caution, and both, without speaking their thoughts, realized +the significance of it. Until now they had had no opportunity of being +alone since last night.</p> + +<p>MacDonald spoke in a low, muffled voice:</p> + +<p>"Quade an' Culver Rann are goin' the limit, Johnny," he said. "They left +men on the job at Tête Jaune, and they've got others watching us. +Consequently, I've hit on a scheme—a sort of simple and unreasonable +scheme, mebby, but an awful good scheme at times."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever you see anything that ain't a bear, or a goat, or a sheep, don't +wait to change the time o' day—but shoot!" said MacDonald.</p> + +<p>Aldous smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"If I had any ideas of chivalry, or what I call fair play, they were taken +out of me last night, Mac," he said. "I'm ready to shoot on sight!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald grunted his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"They can't beat us if we do that, Johnny. They ain't even ordinary +cut-throats—they're sneaks in the bargain; an' if they could walk in our +camp, smilin' an' friendly, and brain us when our backs was turned, they'd +do it. We don't know who's with them, and if a stranger heaves in sight +meet him with a chunk o' lead. They're the only ones in these mountains, +an' we won't make any mistake. See that bunch of spruce over there?"</p> + +<p>The old hunter pointed to a clump fifty yards beyond the tepee toward the +little lake. Aldous nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll take my blankets over there," continued MacDonald. "You roll yourself +up here, and the tepee'll be between us. You see the system, Johnny? If +they make us a visit during the night we've got 'em between us, and +there'll be some real burying to do in the morning!"</p> + +<p>Back under the low-hanging boughs of the dwarf spruce Aldous spread out his +blanket a few minutes later. He had made up his mind not to sleep, and for +hours he lay watchful and waiting, smoking occasionally, with his face +close to the ground so that the odour of tobacco would cling to the earth. +The moon rose until it was straight overhead, flooding the valley in a +golden splendour that he wished Joanne might have seen. Then it began +sinking into the west; slowly at first, and then more swiftly, its radiance +diminished. He looked at his watch before the yellow orb effaced itself +behind the towering peak of a distant mountain. It was a quarter of two.</p> + +<p>With deepening darkness, his eyes grew heavier. He closed them for a few +moments at a time; and each time the interval was longer, and it took +greater effort to force himself into wakefulness. Finally he slept. But he +was still subconsciously on guard, and an hour later that consciousness was +beating and pounding within him, urging him to awake. He sat up with a +start and gripped his rifle. An owl was hooting—softly, very softly. There +were four notes. He answered, and a little later MacDonald came like a +shadow out of the gloom. Aldous advanced to meet him, and he noticed that +over the eastern mountains there was a break of gray.</p> + +<p>"It's after three, Johnny," MacDonald greeted him. "Build a fire and get +breakfast. Tell Joanne I'm out after another sheep. Until it's good an' +light I'm going to watch from that clump of timber up there. In half an +hour it'll be dawn."</p> + +<p>He moved toward the timber, and Aldous set about building a fire. He was +careful not to awaken Joanne. The fire was crackling cheerily when he went +to the lake for water. Returning he saw the faint glow of candlelight in +Joanne's tepee. Five minutes later she appeared, and all thought of danger, +and the discomfort of his sleepless night, passed from him at sight of her. +Her eyes were still a little misty with sleep when he took her in his arms +and kissed her, but she was deliciously alive, and glad, and happy. In one +hand she had brought a brush and in the other a comb.</p> + +<p>"You slept like a log," he cried happily. "It can't be that you had very +bad dreams, little wife?"</p> + +<p>"I had a beautiful dream, John," she laughed softly, and the colour flooded +up into her face.</p> + +<p>She unplaited the thick silken strands of her braid and began brushing her +hair in the firelight, while Aldous sliced the bacon. Some of the slices +were thick, and some were thin, for he could not keep his eyes from her as +she stood there like a goddess, buried almost to her knees in that wondrous +mantle. He found himself whistling with a very light heart as she braided +her hair, and afterward plunged her face in a bath of cold water he had +brought from the lake. From that bath she emerged like a glowing Naiad. +Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were pink and her lips full and red. Damp +little tendrils of hair clung adorably about her face and neck. For another +full minute Aldous paused in his labours, and he wondered if MacDonald was +watching them from the clump of timber. The bacon was sputtering when +Joanne ran to it and rescued it from burning.</p> + +<p>Dawn followed quickly after that first break of day in the east, but not +until one could see a full rifle-shot away did MacDonald return to the +camp. Breakfast was waiting, and as soon as he had finished the old hunter +went after the horses. It was five o'clock, and bars of the sun were +shooting over the tops of the mountains when once more they were in the +saddle and on their way.</p> + +<p>Most of this day Aldous headed the outfit up the valley. On the pretext of +searching for game MacDonald rode so far in advance that only twice during +the forenoon was he in sight. When they stopped to camp for the night his +horse was almost exhausted, and MacDonald himself showed signs of +tremendous physical effort. Aldous could not question him before Joanne. He +waited. And MacDonald was strangely silent.</p> + +<p>The proof of MacDonald's prediction concerning Joanne was in evidence this +second night. Every bone in her body ached, and she was so tired that she +made no objection to going to her bed as soon as it was dark.</p> + +<p>"It always happens like this," consoled old Donald, as she bade him +good-night. "To-morrow you'll begin gettin' broke in, an' the next day you +won't have any lameness at all."</p> + +<p>She limped to the tepee with John's arm snugly about her slim waist. +MacDonald waited patiently until he returned. He motioned Aldous to seat +himself close at his side. Both men lighted their pipes before the +mountaineer spoke.</p> + +<p>"We can't both sleep at once to-night, Johnny," he said. "We've got to take +turns keeping watch."</p> + +<p>"You've discovered something to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's what I haven't discovered that counts. There weren't no tracks in +this valley, Johnny, from mount'in to mount'in. They haven't travelled +through this range, an' that leaves just two things for us to figger on. +They're behind us—or DeBar is hitting another trail into the north. There +isn't no danger ahead right now, because we're gettin' into the biggest +ranges between here an' the Yukon. If Quade and Rann are in the next valley +they can't get over the mount'ins to get at us. Quade, with all his flesh, +couldn't climb over that range to the west of us inside o' three days, if +he could get over it at all. They're hikin' straight for the gold over +another trail, or they're behind us, an' mebby both."</p> + +<p>"How—both?" asked Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Two parties," explained MacDonald, puffing hard at his pipe. "If there's +an outfit behind us they were hid in the timber on the other side of the +snow-ridge, and they're pretty close this minute. Culver Rann—or FitzHugh, +as you call him—is hustling straight on with DeBar. Mebby Quade is with +him, an' mebby he ain't. Anyway, there's a big chance of a bunch behind us +with special instructions from Quade to cut our throats and keep Joanne."</p> + +<p>That day Aldous had been turning a question over in his own mind. He asked +it now.</p> + +<p>"Mac, are you sure you can go to the valley of gold without DeBar?"</p> + +<p>For a long half minute MacDonald looked at him, and then his voice rumbled +in a low, exultant laugh in his beard.</p> + +<p>"Johnny," he said, with a strange quiver in his voice, "I can go to it now +straighter an' quicker than DeBar! I know why I never found it. DeBar +helped me that much. The trail is mapped right out in my brain now, Johnny. +Five years ago I was within ten miles of the cavern—an' didn't know it!"</p> + +<p>"And we can get there ahead of them?"</p> + +<p>"We could—if it wasn't for Joanne. We're makin' twenty miles a day. We +could make thirty."</p> + +<p>"If we could beat them to it!" exclaimed Aldous, clenching his hands. "If +we only could, Donald—the rest would be easy!"</p> + +<p>MacDonald laid a heavy hand on his knee.</p> + +<p>"You remember what you told me, Johnny, that you'd play the game fair, and +give 'em a first chance? You ain't figgerin' on that now, be you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm with you now, Donald. It's——"</p> + +<p>"Shoot on sight!"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Aldous rose from his seat as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You turn in, Mac," he said. "You're about bushed after the work you've +done to-day. I'll keep first watch. I'll conceal myself fifty or sixty +yards from camp, and if we have visitors before midnight the fun will all +be mine."</p> + +<p>He knew that MacDonald was asleep within fifteen minutes after he had +stationed himself at his post. In spite of the fact that he had had almost +no sleep the preceding night, he was more than usually wakeful. He was +filled with a curious feeling that events were impending. Yet the hours +passed, the moon flooded the valley again, the horses grazed without alarm, +and nothing happened. He had planned not to awaken old Donald at midnight, +but MacDonald roused himself, and came to take his place a little before +twelve. From that hour until four Aldous slept like the dead. He was +tremendously refreshed when he arose, to find that the candle was alight in +Joanne's tepee, and that MacDonald had built a fire. He waited for Joanne, +and went with her to the tiny creek near the camp, where both bathed their +faces in the snow-cold water from the mountain tops. Joanne had slept +soundly for eight hours, and she was as fresh and as happy as a bird. Her +lameness was almost gone, and she was eager for the day's journey.</p> + +<p>As they filed again up the valley that morning, with the early sun +transfiguring the great snow-topped ranges about them into a paradise of +colour and warmth, Aldous found himself mentally wondering if it were +really possible that a serious danger menaced them. He did not tell +MacDonald what was in his mind. He did not confess that he was about ready +to believe that the man on the snow-ridge had been a hunter or a prospector +returning to his camp in the other valley, and that the attack in Tête +Jaune was the one and only effort Quade would make to secure possession of +Joanne. While a few hours before he had almost expected an immediate +attack, he was now becoming more and more convinced that Quade, to a large +extent, had dropped out of the situation. He might be with Mortimer +FitzHugh, and probably was—a dangerous and formidable enemy to be +accounted for when the final settlement came.</p> + +<p>But as an immediate menace to Joanne, Aldous was beginning to fear him less +as the hours passed. Joanne, and the day itself, were sufficient to disarm +him of his former apprehension. In places they could see for miles ahead +and behind them. And Joanne, each time that he looked at her, was a greater +joy to him. Constantly she was pointing out the wonders of the mountains to +him and MacDonald. Each new rise or fall in the valley held fresh and +delightful surprises for her; in the craggy peaks she pointed out +castlements, and towers, and battlemented strongholds of ancient princes +and kings. Her mind was a wild and beautiful riot of imagination, of +wonder, and of happiness, and in spite of the grimness of the mission they +were on even MacDonald found himself rejoicing in her spirit, and he +laughed and talked with them as they rode into the North.</p> + +<p>They were entering now into a hunter's paradise. For the first time Joanne +saw white, moving dots far up on a mountain-side, which MacDonald told her +were goats. In the afternoon they saw mountain sheep feeding on a slide +half a mile away, and for ten breathless minutes Joanne watched them +through the telescope. Twice caribou sped over the opens ahead of them. But +it was not until the sun was settling toward the west again that Joanne saw +what she had been vainly searching the sides of the mountains to find. +MacDonald had stopped suddenly in the trail, motioning them to advance. +When they rode up to him he pointed to a green slope two hundred yards +ahead.</p> + +<p>"There's yo'r grizzly, Joanne," he said.</p> + +<p>A huge, tawny beast was ambling slowly along the crest of the slope, and at +sight of him Joanne gave a little cry of excitement.</p> + +<p>"He's hunting for gophers," explained MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"That's why he don't seem in a hurry. He don't see us because a b'ar's eyes +are near-sighted, but he could smell us half a mile away if the wind was +right."</p> + +<p>He was unslinging his long rifle as he spoke. Joanne was near enough to +catch his arm.</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot—please don't shoot!" she begged. "I've seen lions, and I've +seen tigers—and they're treacherous and I don't like them. But there's +something about bears that I love, like dogs. And the lion isn't a king +among beasts compared with him. Please don't shoot!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to," chuckled old Donald. "I'm just getting ready to give +'im the proper sort of a handshake if he should happen to come this way, +Joanne. You know a grizzly ain't pertic'lar afraid of anything on earth as +I know of, an' they're worse 'n a dynamite explosion when they come +head-on. There—he's goin' over the slope!"</p> + +<p>"Got our wind," said Aldous.</p> + +<p>They went on, a colour in Joanne's face like the vivid sunset. They camped +two hours before dusk, and MacDonald figured they had made better than +twenty miles that day. The same precautions were observed in guarding the +camp as the night before, and the long hours of vigil were equally +uneventful. The next day added still more to Aldous' peace of mind +regarding possible attack from Quade, and on the night of this day, their +fourth in the mountains, he spoke his mind to MacDonald.</p> + +<p>For a few moments afterward the old hunter smoked quietly at his pipe. Then +he said:</p> + +<p>"I don't know but you're right, Johnny. If they were behind us they'd most +likely have tried something before this. But it ain't in the law of the +mount'ins to be careless. We've got to watch."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you there, Mac," replied Aldous. "We cannot afford to lose +our caution for a minute. But I'm feeling a deuced sight better over the +situation just the same. If we can only get there ahead of them!"</p> + +<p>"If Quade is in the bunch we've got a chance of beating them," said +MacDonald thoughtfully. "He's heavy, Johnny—that sort of heaviness that +don't stand up well in the mount'ins; whisky-flesh, I call it. Culver Rann +don't weigh much more'n half as much, but he's like iron. Quade may be a +drag. An' Joanne, Lord bless her!--she's facing the music like an' 'ero, +Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"And the journey is almost half over."</p> + +<p>"This is the fourth day. I figger we can make it in ten at most, mebby +nine," said old Donald. "You see we're in that part of the Rockies where +there's real mount'ins, an' the ranges ain't broke up much. We've got +fairly good travel to the end."</p> + +<p>On this night Aldous slept from eight until twelve. The next, their fifth, +his watch was from midnight until morning. As the sixth and the seventh +days and nights passed uneventfully the belief that there were no enemies +behind them became a certainty. Yet neither Aldous nor MacDonald relaxed +their vigilance.</p> + +<p>The eighth day dawned, and now a new excitement took possession of Donald +MacDonald. Joanne and Aldous saw his efforts to suppress it, but it did not +escape their eyes. They were nearing the tragic scenes of long ago, and old +Donald was about to reap the reward of a search that had gone faithfully +and untiringly through the winters and summers of forty years. He spoke +seldom that day. There were strange lights in his eyes. And once his voice +was husky and strained when he said to Aldous:</p> + +<p>"I guess we'll make it to-morrow, Johnny—jus' about as the sun's going +down."</p> + +<p>They camped early, and Aldous rolled himself in his blanket when Joanne +extinguished the candle in her tent. He found that he could not sleep, and +he relieved MacDonald at eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Get all the rest you can, Mac," he urged. "There may be doings +to-morrow—at about sundown."</p> + +<p>There was but little moonlight now, but the stars were clear. He lighted +his pipe, and with his rifle in the crook of his arm he walked slowly up +and down over a hundred-yard stretch of the narrow plain in which they had +camped. That night they had built their fire beside a fallen log, which was +now a glowing mass without flame. Finally he sat down with his back to a +rock fifty paces from Joanne's tepee. It was a splendid night. The air was +cool and sweet. He leaned back until his head rested against the rock, and +there fell upon him the fatal temptation to close his eyes and snatch a few +minutes of the slumber which had not come to him during the early hours of +the night. He was in a doze, oblivious to movement and the softer sounds of +the night, when a cry pierced the struggling consciousness of his brain +like the sting of a dart. In an instant he was on his feet.</p> + +<p>In the red glow of the log stood Joanne in her long white night robe. She +seemed to be swaying when he first saw her. Her hands were clutched at her +bosom, and she was staring—staring out into the night beyond the burning +log, and in her face was a look of terror. He sprang toward her, and out of +the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald. With a cry she turned to +Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms. +Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald +MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" cried Aldous. "What has frightened you, Joanne?"</p> + +<p>She was shuddering against his breast.</p> + +<p>"It—it must have been a dream," she said. "It—it frightened me. But it +was so terrible, and I'm—I'm sorry, John. I didn't know what I was doing."</p> + +<p>"What was it, dear?" insisted Aldous.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had drawn very close.</p> + +<p>Joanne raised her head.</p> + +<p>"Please let me go back to bed, John. It was only a dream, and I'll tell it +to you in the morning, when there's sunshine—and day."</p> + +<p>Something in MacDonald's tense, listening attitude caught Aldous' eyes.</p> + +<p>"What was the dream?" he urged.</p> + +<p>She looked from him to old Donald, and shivered.</p> + +<p>"The flap of my tepee was open," she said slowly. "I thought I was awake. I +thought I could see the glow of the fire. But it was a dream—a <i>dream</i>, +only it was horrible! For as I looked I saw a face out there in the light, +a white, searching face—and it was his face!"</p> + +<p>"Whose face?"</p> + +<p>"Mortimer FitzHugh's," she shuddered.</p> + +<p>Tenderly Aldous led her back to the tent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was surely an unpleasant dream, dear," he comforted her. "Try and +sleep again. You must get all the rest you can."</p> + +<p>He closed the flap after her, and turned back toward MacDonald. The old +hunter had disappeared. It was ten minutes before he came in from out of +the darkness. He went straight to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Johnny, you was asleep!"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I was, Mac—just for a minute."</p> + +<p>MacDonald's fingers gripped his arm.</p> + +<p>"Jus' for a minute, Johnny—an' in that minute you lost the chance of your +life!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean"—and old Donald's voice was filled with a low, choking tremble +that Aldous had never heard in it before—"I mean that it weren't no dream, +Johnny! Mortimer FitzHugh was in this camp to-night!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<br> + +<p>Donald MacDonald's startling assertion that Mortimer FitzHugh had been in +the camp, and that Joanne's dream was not a dream, but reality, brought a +gasp of astonishment and disbelief from Aldous. Before he had recovered +sufficiently from his amazement to speak, MacDonald was answering the +question in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I woke quicker'n you, Johnny," he said. "She was just coming out of the +tepee, an' I heard something running off through the brush. I thought mebby +it was a wolverine, or a bear, an' I didn't move until she cried out your +name an' you jumped up. If she had seen a bear in the fire-glow she +wouldn't have thought it was Mortimer FitzHugh, would she? It's possible, +but it ain't likely, though I do say it's mighty queer why he should be in +this camp alone. It's up to us to watch pretty close until daylight."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be here alone," asserted Aldous. "Let's get out of the light, +Mac. If you're right, the whole gang isn't far away!"</p> + +<p>"They ain't in rifle-shot," said MacDonald. "I heard him running a hundred +yards out there. That's the queer thing about it! Why didn't they jump on +us when they had the chance?"</p> + +<p>"We'll hope that it was a dream," replied Aldous. "If Joanne was dreaming +of FitzHugh, and while still half asleep saw something in camp, she might +easily imagine the rest. But we'll keep watch. Shall I move out there?"</p> + +<p>MacDonald nodded, and the two men separated. For two hours they patrolled +the darkness, waiting and listening. With dawn Aldous returned to camp to +arouse Joanne and begin breakfast. He was anxious to see what effect the +incident of the night had on her. Her appearance reassured him. When he +referred to the dream, and the manner in which she had come out into the +night, a lovely confusion sent the blushes into her face. He kissed her +until they grew deeper, and she hid her face on his neck.</p> + +<p>And then she whispered something, with her face still against his shoulder, +that drove the hot blood into his own cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You are my husband, John, and I don't suppose I should be ashamed to let +you see me in my bare feet. But, John—you have made me feel that way, and +I am—your wife!"</p> + +<p>He held her head close against him so that she could not see his face.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to show you—that I loved you—'that much," he said, scarcely +knowing what words he was speaking. "Joanne, my darling——"</p> + +<p>A soft hand closed his lips.</p> + +<p>"I know, John," she interrupted him softly. "And I love you so for it, and +I'm so proud of you—oh, so proud, John!"</p> + +<p>He was glad that MacDonald came crashing through the bush then. Joanne +slipped from his arms and ran into the tepee.</p> + +<p>In MacDonald's face was a grim and sullen look.</p> + +<p>"You missed your chance, all right, Johnny," he growled. "I found where a +horse was tied out there. The tracks lead to a big slide of rock that opens +a break in the west range. Whoever it was has beat it back into the other +valley. I can't understand, s'elp me God, I can't, Johnny! Why should +FitzHugh come over into this valley alone? And he <i>rode</i> over! I'd say the +devil couldn't do that!"</p> + +<p>He said nothing more, but went out to lead in the hobbled horses, leaving +Aldous in half-stunned wonderment to finish the preparation of breakfast. +Joanne reappeared a little later, and helped him. It was six o'clock before +breakfast was over and they were ready to begin their day's journey. As +they were throwing the hitch over the last pack, MacDonald said in a low +voice to Aldous:</p> + +<p>"Everything may happen to-day, Johnny. I figger we'll reach the end by +sundown. An' what don't happen there may happen along the trail. Keep a +rifle-shot behind with Joanne. If there's unexpected shooting, we want what +you might call a reserve force in the rear. I figger I can see danger, if +there is any, an' I can do it best alone."</p> + +<p>Aldous knew that in these last hours Donald MacDonald's judgment must be +final, and he made no objection to an arrangement which seemed to place the +old hunter under a more hazardous risk than his own. And he realized fully +that these were the last hours. For the first time he had seen MacDonald +fill his pockets with the finger-long cartridges for his rifle, and he had +noted how carefully he had looked at the breech of that rifle. Without +questioning, he had followed the mountaineer's example. There were fifty +spare cartridges in his own pockets. His .303 was freshly cleaned and +oiled. He had tested the mechanism of his automatic. MacDonald had watched +him, and both understood what such preparations meant as they set out on +this last day's journey into the North. They had not kept from Joanne the +fact that they would reach the end before night, and as they rode the +prescribed distance behind the old hunter Aldous wondered how much she +guessed, and what she knew. They had given her to understand that they were +beating out the rival party, but he believed that in spite of all their +efforts there was in Joanne's mind a comprehension which she did not reveal +in voice or look. To-day she was no different than yesterday, or the day +before, except that her cheeks were not so deeply flushed, and there was an +uneasy questing in her eyes. He believed that she sensed the nearness of +tragedy, that she was conscious of what they were now trying to hide from +her, and that she did not speak because she knew that he and MacDonald did +not want her to know. His heart throbbed with pride. Her courage inspired +him. And he noticed that she rode closer to him—always at his side through +that day.</p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon MacDonald stopped on the crest of a swell in the +valley and waited for them. When they came up he was facing the north. He +did not look at them. For a few moments he did not speak. His hat was +pulled low, and his beard was twitching.</p> + +<p>They looked ahead. At their feet the valley broadened until it was a mile +in width. Half a mile away a band of caribou were running for the cover of +a parklike clump of timber. MacDonald did not seem to notice them. He was +still looking steadily, and he was gazing at a mountain. It was a +tremendous mountain, a terrible-looking, ugly mountain, perhaps three miles +away. Aldous had never seen another like it. Its two huge shoulders were of +almost ebon blackness, and glistened in the sunlight as if smeared with +oil. Between those two shoulders rose a cathedral-like spire of rock and +snow that seemed to tip the white fleece of the clouds.</p> + +<p>MacDonald did not turn when he spoke. His voice was deep and vibrant with +an intense emotion. Yet he was not excited.</p> + +<p>"I've been hunting for that mount'in for forty years, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"Mac!"</p> + +<p>Aldous leaned over and laid a hand on the old mountaineer's shoulder. Still +MacDonald did not look at him.</p> + +<p>"Forty years," he repeated, as if speaking to himself. "I see how I missed +it now, just as DeBar said. I hunted from the west, an' on that side the +mount'in ain't black. We must have crossed this valley an' come in from the +east forty years ago, Johnny——"</p> + +<p>He turned now, and what Joanne and Aldous saw in his face was not grief; it +was not the sorrow of one drawing near to his beloved dead, but a joy that +had transfigured him. The fire and strength of the youth in which he had +first looked upon this valley with Jane at his side burned again in the +sunken eyes of Donald MacDonald. After forty years he had come into his +own. Somewhere very near was the cavern with the soft white floor of sand, +and for a moment Aldous fancied that he could hear the beating of +MacDonald's heart, while from Joanne's tender bosom there rose a deep, +sobbing breath of understanding.</p> + +<p>And MacDonald, facing the mountain again, pointed with a long, gaunt arm, +and said:</p> + +<p>"We're almost there, Johnny. God ha' mercy on them if they've beat us out!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<br> + +<p>They rode on into the Valley of Gold. Again MacDonald took the lead, and he +rode straight into the face of the black mountain. Aldous no longer made an +effort to keep Joanne in ignorance of what might be ahead of them. He put a +sixth cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, and carried the weapon +across the pommel of his saddle. He explained to her now why they were +riding behind—that if their enemies were laying in wait for them, +MacDonald, alone, could make a swift retreat. Joanne asked no questions. +Her lips were set tight. She was pale.</p> + +<p>At the end of three quarters of an hour it seemed to them that MacDonald +was riding directly into the face of a wall of rock. Then he swung sharply +to the left, and disappeared. When they came to the point where he had +turned they found that he had entered a concealed break in the mountain—a +chasm with walls that rose almost perpendicular for a thousand feet above +their heads. A dark and solemn gloom pervaded this chasm, and Aldous drew +nearer to MacDonald, his rifle held in readiness, and his bridle-rein +fastened to his saddle-horn. The chasm was short. Sunlight burst upon them +suddenly, and a few minutes later MacDonald waited for them again.</p> + +<p>Even Aldous could not restrain an exclamation of surprise when he rode up +with Joanne. Under them was another valley, a wide-sweeping valley between +two rugged ranges that ran to the southwest. Up out of it there came to +their ears a steady, rumbling roar; the air was filled with that roar; the +earth seemed to tremble with it under their feet—and yet it was not loud. +It came sullenly, as if from a great distance.</p> + +<p>And then they saw that MacDonald was not looking out over the sweep of the +valley, but down. Half a mile under them there was a dip—a valley within a +valley—and through it ran the silver sheen of a stream. MacDonald spoke no +word now. He dismounted and levelled his long telescope at the little +valley. Aldous helped Joanne from her horse, and they waited. A great +breath came at last from the old hunter. Slowly he turned. He did not give +the telescope to Aldous, but to Joanne. She looked. For a full minute she +seemed scarcely to breathe. Her hands trembled when she turned to give the +glass to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"I see—log cabins!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>MacDonald placed a detaining hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Look ag'in—Joanne," he said in a low voice that had in it a curious +quiver.</p> + +<p>Again she raised the telescope to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You see the little cabin—nearest the river?" whispered Donald.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see it."</p> + +<p>"That was our cabin—Jane's an' mine—forty years ago," he said, and now +his voice was husky.</p> + +<p>Joanne's breath broke sobbingly as she gave Aldous the glass. Something +seemed to choke him as he looked down upon the scene of the grim tragedy +in which Donald MacDonald and Jane had played their fatal part. He saw the +cabins as they had stood for nearly half a century. There were four. Three +of them were small, and the fourth was large. They might have been built +yesterday, for all that he could see of ruin or decay. The doors and +windows of the larger cabin and two of the smaller ones were closed. The +roofs were unbroken. The walls appeared solid. Twice he looked at the +fourth cabin, with its wide-open door and window, and twice he looked at +the cabin nearest the stream, where had lived Donald MacDonald and Jane.</p> + +<p>Donald had moved, and Joanne was watching him tensely, when he took the +glass from his eyes. Mutely the old mountaineer held out a hand, and Aldous +gave him the telescope. Crouching behind a rock he slowly swept the valley. +For half an hour he looked through the glass, and in that time scarce a +word was spoken. During the last five minutes of that half-hour both Joanne +and Aldous knew that MacDonald was looking at the little cabin nearest the +stream, and with hands clasped tightly they waited in silence.</p> + +<p>At last old Donald rose, and his face and voice were filled with a +wonderful calm.</p> + +<p>"There ain't been no change," he said softly. "I can see the log in front +o' the door that I used to cut kindling on. It was too tough for them to +split an' burn after we left. An' I can see the tub I made out o' spruce +for Jane. It's leaning next the door, where I put it the day before we went +away. Forty years ain't very long, Johnny! It ain't very long!"</p> + +<p>Joanne had turned from them, and Aldous knew that she was crying.</p> + +<p>"An' we've beat 'em to it, Johnny—we've beat 'em to it!" exulted +MacDonald. "There ain't a sign of life in the valley, and we sure could +make it out from here if there was!"</p> + +<p>He climbed into his saddle, and started down the slope of the mountain. +Aldous went to Joanne. She was sobbing. Her eyes were blinded by tears.</p> + +<p>"It's terrible, terrible," she whispered brokenly. "And it—it's beautiful, +John. I feel as though I'd like to give my life—to bring Jane back!"</p> + +<p>"You must not betray tears or grief to Donald," said Aldous, drawing her +close in his arms for a moment. "Joanne—sweetheart—it is a wonderful +thing that is happening with him! I dreaded this day—I have dreaded it for +a long time. I thought that it would be terrible to witness the grief of a +man with a heart like Donald's. But he is not filled with grief, Joanne. It +is joy, a great happiness that perhaps neither you nor I can +understand—that has come to him now. Don't you understand? He has found +her. He has found their old home. To-day is the culmination of forty years +of hope, and faith, and prayer. And it does not bring him sorrow, but +gladness. We must rejoice with him. We must be happy with him. I love you, +Joanne. I love you above all else on earth or in heaven. Without you I +would not want to live. And yet, Joanne, I believe that I am no happier +to-day than is Donald MacDonald!"</p> + +<p>With a sudden cry Joanne flung her arms about his neck.</p> + +<p>"John, is it <i>that?</i>" she cried, and joy shone through her tears. "Yes, +yes, I understand now! His heart is not breaking. It is life returning into +a heart that was empty. I understand—oh, I understand now! And we must be +happy with him. We must be happy when we find the cavern—and Jane!"</p> + +<p>"And when we go down there to the little cabin that was their home."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes!"</p> + +<p>They followed behind MacDonald. After a little a spur of the mountain-side +shut out the little valley from them, and when they rounded this they found +themselves very near to the cabins. They rode down a beautiful slope into +the basin, and when he reached the log buildings old Donald stopped and +dismounted. Again Aldous helped Joanne from her horse. Ahead of them +MacDonald went to the cabin nearest the stream. At the door he paused and +waited for them.</p> + +<p>"Forty years!" he said, facing them. "An' there ain't been so very much +change as I can see!"</p> + +<p>Years had dropped from his shoulders in these last few minutes, and even +Aldous could not keep quite out of his face his amazement and wonder. Very +gently Donald put his hand to the latch, as though fearing to awaken some +one within; and very gently he pressed down on it, and put a bit of his +strength against the door. It moved inward, and when it had opened +sufficiently he leaned forward so that his head and a half of his shoulders +were inside; and he looked—a long time he looked, without a movement of +his body or a breath that they could see.</p> + +<p>And then he turned to them again, and his eyes were shining as they had +never seen them shine before.</p> + +<p>"I'll open the window," he said. "It's dark—dark inside."</p> + +<p>He went to the window, which was closed with a sapling barricade that had +swung on hinges; and when he swung it back the rusted hinges gave way, and +the thing crashed down at his feet. And now through the open window the sun +poured in a warm radiance, and Donald entered the cabin, with Joanne and +Aldous close behind him.</p> + +<p>There was not much in the cabin, but what it held was earth, and heaven, +and all else to Donald MacDonald. A strange, glad cry surged from his chest +as he looked about him, and now Joanne saw and understood what John Aldous +had told her—for Donald MacDonald, after forty years, had come back to his +home!</p> + +<p>"Oh, my Gawd, Johnny, they didn't touch anything! They didn't touch +anything!" he breathed in ecstasy. "I thought after we ran away they'd come +in——"</p> + +<p>He broke off, and his hat dropped from his hand, and he stood and stared; +and what he was looking at, the sun fell upon in a great golden splash, and +Joanne's hand gripped John's, and held to it tightly. Against the wall, +hanging as they had hung for forty years, were a woman's garments: a hood, +a shawl, a dress, and an apron that was half in tatters; and on the floor +under these things were <i>a pair of shoes</i>. And as Donald MacDonald went to +them, his arms reaching out, his lips moving, forgetful of all things but +that he had come home, and Jane was here, Joanne drew Aldous softly to the +door, and they went out into the day.</p> + +<p>Joanne did not speak, and Aldous did not urge her. He saw her white throat +throbbing as if there were a little heart beating there, and her eyes were +big and dark and velvety, like the eyes of a fawn that had been frightened. +There was a thickness in his own throat, and he found that it was difficult +for him to see far out over the plain. They waited near the horses. Fifty +yards from them ran the stream; a clear, beautiful stream which flowed in +the direction from which the mysterious ramble of thunder seemed to come. +This, Aldous knew, was the stream of gold. In the sand he saw wreckage +which he knew were the ancient rockers; a shovel, thrust shaft-deep, still +remained where it had last been planted.</p> + +<p>Perhaps for ten minutes Donald MacDonald remained in the cabin. Then he +came out. Very carefully he closed the door. His shoulders were thrown +back. His head was held high. He looked like a monarch.</p> + +<p>And his voice was calm.</p> + +<p>"Everything is there, Johnny—everything but the gold," he said. "They took +that."</p> + +<p>Now he spoke to Joanne.</p> + +<p>"You better not go with us into the other cabins," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Because—there's death in them all."</p> + +<p>"I am going," she said.</p> + +<p>From the window of the largest cabin MacDonald pulled the sapling shutter, +and, like the other, it fell at his feet. Then they opened the door, and +entered; and here the sunlight revealed the cabin's ghastly tragedy. The +first thing that they saw, because it was most terrible, was a rough table, +half over which lay the shrunken thing that had once been a man. A part of +its clothes still remained, but the head had broken from its column, and +the white and fleshless skull lay facing them. Out of tattered and +dust-crumbling sleeves reached the naked bones of hands and arms. And on +the floor lay another of these things, in a crumpled and huddled heap, only +the back of the skull showing, like the polished pate of a bald man. These +things they saw first, and then two others: on the table were a heap of +age-blackened and dusty sacks, and out of the back of the crumbling thing +that guarded them stuck the long buckhorn hilt of a knife.</p> + +<p>"They must ha' died fighting," said MacDonald. "An' there, Johnny, is their +gold!"</p> + +<p>White as death Joanne stood in the door and watched them. MacDonald and +Aldous went to the sacks. They were of buckskin. The years had not aged +them. When Aldous took one in his hands he found that it was heavier than +lead. With his knife MacDonald cut a slit in one of them, and the sun that +came through the window flashed in a little golden stream that ran from the +bag.</p> + +<p>"We'll take them out and put 'em in a pannier," said MacDonald. "The others +won't be far behind us, Johnny."</p> + +<p>Between them they carried out the seven sacks of gold. It was a load for +their arms. They put it in one of the panniers, and then MacDonald nodded +toward the cabin next the one that had been his own.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go in there, Joanne," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm going," she whispered again.</p> + +<p>"It was <i>their</i> cabin—the man an' his wife," persisted old Donald. "An' +the men was beasts, Joanne! I don't know what happened in there—but I +guess."</p> + +<p>"I'm going," she said again.</p> + +<p>MacDonald pulled down the barricade from the window—a window that also +faced the south and west, and this time he had to thrust against the door +with his shoulder. They entered, and now a cry came from Joanne's lips—a +cry that had in it horror, disbelief, a woman's wrath. Against the wall was +a pile of something, and on that pile was the searching first light of day +that had fallen upon it for nearly half a century. The pile was a man +crumpled down; across it, her skeleton arms thrown about it protectingly, +was a woman. This time Aldous did not go forward. MacDonald was alone, and +Aldous took Joanne from the cabin, and held her while she swayed in his +arms. Donald came out a little later, and there was a curious look of +exultation and triumph in his face.</p> + +<p>"She killed herself," he said. "That was her husband. I know him. I gave +him the rock-nails he put in the soles of his boots—and the nails are +still there."</p> + +<p>He went alone into the remaining two cabins, while Aldous stood with +Joanne. He did not stay long. From the fourth cabin he brought an armful of +the little brown sacks. He returned, and brought a second armful.</p> + +<p>"There's three more in that last cabin," he explained. "Two men, an' a +woman. She must ha' been the wife of the man they killed. They were the +last to live, an' they starved to death. An' now, Johnny——"</p> + +<p>He paused, and he drew in a great breath.</p> + +<p>He was looking to the west, where the sun was beginning to sink behind the +mountains.</p> + +<p>"An' now, Johnny, if you're ready, an' if Joanne is ready, we'll go," he +said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<br> + +<p>As they went up out of the basin into the broad meadows of the larger +valley, MacDonald rode between Aldous and Joanne, and the pack-horses, led +by Pinto, trailed behind.</p> + +<p>Again old Donald said, as he searched the valley:</p> + +<p>"We've beat 'em, Johnny. Quade an' Rann are coming up on the other side of +the range, and I figger they're just about a day behind—mebby only hours, +or an hour. You can't tell. There's more gold back there. We got about a +hunderd pounds in them fifteen sacks, an' there was twice that much. It's +hid somewhere. Calkins used to keep his'n under the floor. So did Watts. +We'll find it later. An' the river, an' the dry gulches on both sides of +the valley—they're full of it! It's all gold, Johnny—gold everywhere!"</p> + +<p>He pointed ahead to where the valley rose in a green slope between two +mountains half a mile away.</p> + +<p>"That's the break," he said. "It don't seem very far now, do it, Joanne?" +His silence seemed to have dropped from him like a mantle, and there was +joy in what he was telling. "But it was a distance that night—a tumble +distance," he continued, before she could answer. "That was forty-one years +ago, coming November. An' it was cold, an' the snow was deep. It was bitter +cold—so cold it caught my Jane's lungs, an' that was what made her go a +little later. The slope up there don't look steep now, but it was steep +then—with two feet of snow to drag ourselves through. I don't think the +cavern is more'n five or six miles away, Johnny, mebby less, an' it took us +twenty hours to reach it. It snowed so heavy that night, an' the wind +blowed so, that our trail was filled up or they might ha' followed."</p> + +<p>Many times Aldous had been on the point of asking old Donald a question. +For the first time he asked it now, even as his eyes swept slowly and +searchingly over the valley for signs of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade.</p> + +<p>"I've often wondered why you ran away with Jane," he said. "I know what +threatened her—a thing worse than death. But why did you run? Why didn't +you stay and fight?"</p> + +<p>A low growl rumbled in MacDonald's beard.</p> + +<p>"Johnny, Johnny, if I only ha' could!" he groaned. "There was five of them +left when I ran into the cabin an' barricaded myself there with Jane. I +stuck my gun out of the window an' they was afraid to rush the cabin. They +was <i>afraid</i>, Johnny, all that afternoon—<i>an' I didn't have a cartridge +left to fire!</i> That's why we went just as soon as we could crawl out in the +dark. I knew they'd come that night. I might ha' killed one or two hand to +hand, for I was big an' strong in them days, Johnny, but I knew I couldn't +beat 'em all. So we went."</p> + +<p>"After all, death isn't so very terrible," said Joanne softly, and she was +riding so close that for a moment she laid one of her warm hands on Donald +MacDonald's.</p> + +<p>"No, it's sometimes—wunnerful—an' beautiful," replied Donald, a little +brokenly, and with that he rode ahead, and Joanne and Aldous waited until +the pack-horses had passed them.</p> + +<p>"He's going to see that all is clear at the summit," explained Aldous.</p> + +<p>They seemed to be riding now right into the face of that mysterious rumble +and roar of the mountains. It was an hour before they all stood together at +the top of the break, and here MacDonald swung sharply to the right, and +came soon to the rock-strewn bed of a dried-up stream that in ages past had +been a wide and rushing torrent. Steadily, as they progressed down this, +the rumble and roar grew nearer. It seemed that it was almost under their +feet, when again MacDonald turned, and a quarter of an hour later they +found themselves at the edge of a small plain; and now all about them were +cold and towering mountains that shut out the sun, and a hundred yards to +their right was a great dark cleft in the floor of the plain, and up out of +this came the rumble and roar that was like the sullen anger of monster +beasts imprisoned deep down in the bowels of the earth.</p> + +<p>MacDonald got off his horse, and Aldous and Joanne rode up to him. In the +old man's face was a look of joy and triumph.</p> + +<p>"It weren't so far as I thought it was, Johnny!" he cried. "Oh, it must ha' +been a turrible night—a turrible night when Jane an' I come this way! It +took us twenty hours, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>"We are near the cavern?" breathed Joanne.</p> + +<p>"It ain't more'n half a mile farther on, I guess. But we'll camp here. +We're pretty well hid. They can't find us. An' from that summit up there +we can keep watch in both valleys."</p> + +<p>Knowing the thoughts that were in MacDonald's mind, and how full his heart +was with a great desire, Aldous went to him when they had dismounted.</p> + +<p>"You go on alone if there is time to-night, Mac," he said, knowing that the +other would understand him. "I will make camp."</p> + +<p>"There ain't no one in the valley," mused the old man, a little doubtfully +at first. "It would be safe—quite safe, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will be safe."</p> + +<p>"And I will stand guard while John is working," said Joanne, who had come +to them. "No one can approach us without being seen."</p> + +<p>For another moment MacDonald hesitated. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Do you see that break over there across the plain? It's the open to a +gorge. Johnny, it do seem unreasonable—it do seem as though I must ha' +been dreamin'—when I think that it took us twenty hours! But the snow was +to my waist in this plain, an' it was slow work—turrible slow work! I +think the cavern—ain't on'y a little way up that gorge."</p> + +<p>"You can make it before the sun is quite gone."</p> + +<p>"An' I could hear you shout, or your gun. I could ride back in five +minutes—an' I wouldn't be gone an hour."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger," urged Aldous.</p> + +<p>A deep breath came from old Donald's breast.</p> + +<p>"I guess—I'll go, Johnny, if you an' Joanne don't mind."</p> + +<p>He looked about him, and then he pointed toward the face of a great rock.</p> + +<p>"Put the tepee up near that," he said. "Pile the saddles, an' the blankets, +an' the panniers around it, so it'll look like a real camp, Johnny. But it +won't be a real camp. It'll be a dummy. See them thick spruce an' cedar +over there? Build Joanne a shelter of boughs in there, an' take in some +grub, an' blankets, an' the gold. See the point, Johnny? If anything should +happen——"</p> + +<p>"They'd tackle the bogus camp!" cried Aldous with elation. "It's a splendid +idea!"</p> + +<p>He set at once about unpacking the horses, and Joanne followed close at his +side to help him. MacDonald mounted his horse and rode at a trot in the +direction of the break in the mountain.</p> + +<p>The sun had disappeared, but its reflection was still on the peaks; and +after he had stripped and hobbled the horses Aldous took advantage of the +last of day to scrutinize the plain and the mountain slopes through the +telescope. After that he found enough dry poles with which to set up the +tepee, and about this he scattered the saddles and panniers, as MacDonald +had suggested. Then he cleared a space in the thick spruce, and brought to +it what was required for their hidden camp.</p> + +<p>It was almost dark when he completed the spruce and cedar lean-to for +Joanne. He knew that to-night they must build no fire, not even for tea; +and when they had laid out the materials for their cold supper, which +consisted of beans, canned beef and tongue, peach marmalade, bread bannock, +and pickles and cheese, he went with Joanne for water to a small creek they +had crossed a hundred yards away. In both his hands, ready for instant +action, he carried his rifle. Joanne carried the pail. Her eyes were big +and bright and searching in that thick-growing dusk of night. She walked +very close to Aldous, and she said:</p> + +<p>"John, I know how careful you and Donald have been in this journey into the +North. I know what you have feared. Culver Rann and Quade are after the +gold, and they are near. But why does Donald talk as though we are <i>surely</i> +going to be attacked by them, or are <i>surely</i> going to attack them? I don't +understand it, John. If you don't care for the gold so much, as you told me +once, and if we find Jane to-morrow, or to-night, why do we remain to have +trouble with Quade and Culver Rann? Tell me, John."</p> + +<p>He could not see her face fully in the gloom, and he was glad that she +could not see his.</p> + +<p>"If we can get away without fighting, we will, Joanne," he lied. And he +knew that she would have known that he was lying if it had not been for the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"You won't fight—over the gold?" she asked, pressing his arm. "Will you +promise me that, John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I promise that. I swear it!" he cried, and so forcefully that she +gave a glad little laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then if they don't find us to-morrow, we'll go back home?" She trembled, +and he knew that her heart was filled with a sudden lightness. "And I don't +believe they will find us. They won't come beyond that terrible place—and +the gold! Why should they, John? Why should they follow us—if we leave +them everything? Oh-h-h-h!" She shuddered, and whispered: "I wish we had +not brought the gold, John. I wish we had left it behind!"</p> + +<p>"What we have is worth thirty or forty thousand dollars," he said +reassuringly, as he filled his pail with water and they began to return. +"We can do a great deal of good with that. Endowments, for instance," he +laughed.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, they both stopped, and listened. Plainly they heard the +approaching thud of hoofs. MacDonald had been gone nearer two hours than +one, and believing that it was him, Aldous gave the owl signal. The signal +floated back to them softly. Five minutes later MacDonald rode up and +dismounted. Until he had taken the saddle off, and had hobbled his horse, +he did not speak. Neither Joanne nor Aldous asked the question that was in +their hearts. But even in the darkness they felt something. It was as if +not only the torrent rushing through the chasm, but MacDonald's heart as +well, was charging the air with a strange and subdued excitement. And when +MacDonald spoke, that which they had felt was in his voice.</p> + +<p>"You ain't seen or heard anything, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. And you—Donald?"</p> + +<p>In the darkness, Joanne went to the old man, and her hand found one of his, +and clasped it tightly; and she found that Donald MacDonald's big hand was +trembling in a strange and curious way, and she could feel him quivering.</p> + +<p>"You found Jane?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I found her, little Joanne."</p> + +<p>She did not let go of his hand until they entered the open space which +Aldous had made in the spruce. Then she remembered what Aldous had said to +her earlier in the day, and cheerfully she lighted the two candles they +had set out, and forced Aldous down first upon the ground, and then +MacDonald, and began to help them to beans and meat and bannock, while all +the time her heart was crying out to know about the cavern—and Jane. The +candleglow told her a great deal, for in it Donald MacDonald's face was +very calm, and filled with a great peace, despite the trembling she had +felt. Her woman's sympathy told her that his heart was too full on this +night for speech, and when he ate but little she did not urge him to eat +more; and when he rose and went silently and alone out into the darkness +she held Aldous back; and when, still a little later, she went into her +nest for the night, she whispered softly to him:</p> + +<p>"I know that he found Jane as he wanted to find her, and he is happy. I +think he has gone out there alone—to cry." And for a time after that, as +he sat in the gloom, John Aldous knew that Joanne was sobbing like a little +child in the spruce and cedar shelter he had built for her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<br> + +<p>If MacDonald slept at all that night Aldous did not know it. The old +mountaineer watched until a little after twelve in the deep shadow of a +rock between the two camps.</p> + +<p>"I can't sleep," he protested, when Aldous urged him to take his rest. "I +might take a little stroll up the plain, Johnny—but I can't sleep."</p> + +<p>The plain lay in a brilliant starlight at this hour; they could see the +gleam of the snow-peaks—the light was almost like the glow of the moon.</p> + +<p>"There'll be plenty of sleep after to-morrow," added MacDonald, and there +was a finality in his voice and words which set the other's blood stirring.</p> + +<p>"You think they will show up to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. This is the same valley the cabins are in, Johnny. That big mountain +runs out an' splits it, an' it curves like a horseshoe. From that mount'in +we can see them, no matter which way they come. They'll go straight to the +cabins. There's a deep little run under the slope. You didn't see it when +we came out, but it'll take us within a hunderd yards of 'em. An' at a +hunderd yards——"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders suggestively in the starlight, and there was a +smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"It seems almost like murder," shuddered Aldous.</p> + +<p>"But it ain't,'" replied MacDonald quickly. "It's self-defence! If we +don't do it, Johnny—if we don't draw on them first, what happened there +forty years ago is goin' to happen again—with Joanne!"</p> + +<p>"A hundred yards," breathed Aldous, his jaws setting hard. "And there are +five!"</p> + +<p>"They'll go into the cabins," said MacDonald. "At some time there will be +two or three outside, an' we'll take them first. At the sound of the shots +the others will run out, and it will be easy. Yo' can't very well miss a +man at a hunderd yards, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't miss."</p> + +<p>MacDonald rose.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to take a little stroll, Johnny."</p> + +<p>For two hours after that Aldous was alone. He knew why old Donald could not +sleep, and where he had gone, and he pictured him sitting before the little +old cabin in the starlit valley communing with the spirit of Jane. And +during those two hours he steeled himself for the last time to the thing +that was going to happen when the day came.</p> + +<p>It was nearly three o'clock when MacDonald returned. It was four o'clock +before he roused Joanne; and it was five o'clock when they had eaten their +breakfast, and MacDonald prepared to leave for the mountain with his +telescope. Aldous had observed Joanne talking to him for several minutes +alone, and he had also observed that her eyes were very bright, and that +there was an unusual eagerness in her manner of listening to what the old +man was saying. The significance of this did not occur to him when she +urged him to accompany MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Two pairs of eyes are better than one, John," she said, "and I cannot +possibly be in danger here. I can see you all the time, and you can see +me—if I don't run away, or hide." And she laughed a little breathlessly. +"There is no danger, is there, Donald?"</p> + +<p>The old hunter shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There's no danger, but—you might be lonesome," he said.</p> + +<p>Joanne put her pretty mouth close to Aldous' ear.</p> + +<p>"I want to be alone for a little while, dear," she whispered, and there was +that mystery in her voice which kept him from questioning her, and made him +go with MacDonald.</p> + +<p>In three quarters of an hour they had reached the spur of the mountain from +which MacDonald had said they could see up the valley, and also the break +through which they had come the preceding afternoon. The morning mists +still hung low, but as these melted away under the sun mile after mile of a +marvellous panorama spread out swiftly under them, and as the distance of +their vision grew, the deeper became the disappointment in MacDonald's +face. For half an hour after the mists had gone he neither spoke nor +lowered the telescope from his eyes. A mile away Aldous saw three caribou +crossing the valley. A little later, on a green slope, he discerned a +moving hulk that he knew was a bear. He did not speak until old Donald +lowered the glass.</p> + +<p>"I can see for eight miles up the valley, an' there ain't a soul in sight," +said MacDonald in answer to his question. "I figgered they'd be along about +now, Johnny."</p> + +<p>A dozen times Aldous had looked back at the camp. Twice he had seen Joanne. +He looked now through the telescope. She was nowhere in sight. A bit +nervously he returned the telescope to MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"And I can't see Joanne," he said.</p> + +<p>MacDonald looked. For five minutes he levelled the glass steadily at the +camp. Then he shifted it slowly westward, and a low exclamation broke from +his lips as he lowered the glass, and looked at Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Johnny, she's just goin' into the gorge! She was just disappearin' when I +caught her!"</p> + +<p>"Going into—the gorge!" gasped Aldous, jumping to his feet. "Mac——"</p> + +<p>MacDonald rose and stood at his side. There was something reassuring in the +rumbling laugh that came from deep in his chest.</p> + +<p>"She's beat us!" he chuckled. "Bless her, she's beat us! I didn't guess why +she was askin' me all them questions. An' I told her, Johnny—told her just +where the cavern was up there in the gorge, an' how you wouldn't hardly +miss it if you tried. An' she asked me how long it would take to <i>walk</i> +there, an' I told her half an hour. An' she's going to the cavern, Johnny!"</p> + +<p>He was telescoping his long glass as he spoke, and while Aldous was still +staring toward the gorge in wonderment and a little fear, he added:</p> + +<p>"We'd better follow. Quade an' Rann can't get here inside o' two or three +hours, an' we'll be back before then." Again he rumbled with that curious +chuckling laugh. "She beat us, Johnny, she beat us fair! An' she's got +spirrit, a wunnerful spirrit, to go up there alone!"</p> + +<p>Aldous wanted to run, but he held himself down to MacDonald's stride. His +heart trembled apprehensively as they hurriedly descended the mountain and +cut across the plain. He could not quite bring himself to MacDonald's point +of assurance regarding Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. The old mountaineer was +positive that the other party was behind them. Aldous asked himself if it +were not possible that Quade and FitzHugh were <i>ahead</i> of them, and already +waiting and watching for their opportunity. He had suggested that they +might have swung farther to the west, with the plan of descending upon the +valley from the north, and MacDonald had pointed out how unlikely this was. +In spite of this, Aldous was not in a comfortable frame of mind as they +hurried after Joanne. She had half an hour's start of them when they +reached the mouth of the gorge, and not until they had travelled another +half-hour up the rough bed of the break between the two mountains, and +MacDonald pointed ahead, and said: "There's the cavern!" did he breathe +easier.</p> + +<p>They could see the mouth of the cavern when they were yet a couple of +hundred yards from it. It was a wide, low cleft in the north face of the +chasm wall, and in front of it, spreading out like the flow of a stream, +was a great spatter of white sand, like a huge rug that had been spread out +in a space cleared of its chaotic litter of rock and broken slate. At first +glance Aldous guessed that the cavern had once been the exit of a +subterranean stream. The sand deadened the sound of their footsteps as they +approached. At the mouth of the cave they paused. It was perhaps forty or +fifty feet deep, and as high as a nine-foot room. Inside it was quite +light. Halfway to the back of it, upon her knees, and with her face turned +from them, was Joanne.</p> + +<p>They were very close to her before she heard them. With a startled cry she +sprang to her feet, and Aldous and MacDonald saw what she had been doing. +Over a long mound in the white sand still rose the sapling stake which +Donald had planted there forty years before; and about this, and scattered +over the grave, were dozens of wild asters and purple hyacinths which +Joanne had brought from the plain. Aldous did not speak, but he took her +hand, and looked down with her on the grave. And then something caught his +eyes among the flowers, and Joanne drew him a step nearer, her eyes shining +like velvet stars, while his heart beat faster when he saw what the object +was. It was a book, open in the middle, and it lay face downward on the +grave. It was old, and looked as though it might have fallen into dust at +the touch of his finger. Joanne's voice was low and filled with a +whispering awe.</p> + +<p>"It was her Bible, John!"</p> + +<p>He turned a little, and noticed that Donald had gone to the mouth of the +cavern, and was looking toward the mountain.</p> + +<p>"It was her Bible," he heard Joanne repeating; and then MacDonald turned +toward them, and he saw in his face a look that seemed strange and out of +place in this home of his dead. He went to him, and Joanne followed.</p> + +<p>MacDonald had turned again—was listening—and holding his breath. Then he +said, still with his face toward the mountain and the valley:</p> + +<p>"I may be mistaken, Johnny, but I think I heard—a rifle-shot!"</p> + +<p>For a full minute they listened.</p> + +<p>"It seemed off there," said MacDonald, pointing to the south. "I guess +we'd better get back to camp, Johnny."</p> + +<p>He started ahead of them, and Aldous followed as swiftly as he could with +Joanne. She was panting with excitement, but she asked no questions. +MacDonald began to spring more quickly from rock to rock; over the level +spaces he began to run. He reached the edge of the plain four or five +hundred yards in advance of them, and was scanning the valley through his +telescope when they came up.</p> + +<p>"They're not on this side," he said. "They're comin' up the other leg of +the valley, Johnny. We've got to get to the mount'in before we can see +them."</p> + +<p>He closed the glass with a snap and swung it over his shoulder. Then he +pointed toward the camp.</p> + +<p>"Take Joanne down there," he commanded. "Watch the break we came through, +an' wait for me. I'm goin' up on the mount'in an' take a look!"</p> + +<p>The last words came back over his shoulder as he started on a trot down the +slope. Only once before had Aldous seen MacDonald employ greater haste, and +that was on the night of the attack on Joanne. He was convinced there was +no doubt in Donald's mind about the rifle-shot, and that the shot could +mean but one thing—the nearness of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. Why they +should reveal their presence in that way he did not ask himself as he +hurried down into the plain with Joanne. By the time they reached the camp +old Donald had covered two thirds of the distance to the mountain. Aldous +looked at his watch and a curious thrill shot through him. Only a little +more than an hour had passed since they had left the mountain to follow +Joanne, and in that time it would have been impossible for their enemies to +have covered more than a third of the eight-mile stretch of valley which +they had found empty of human life under the searching scrutiny of the +telescope! He was right—and MacDonald was wrong! The sound of the shot, if +there had been a shot, must have come from some other direction!</p> + +<p>He wanted to shout his warning to MacDonald, but already too great a +distance separated them. Besides, if he was right, MacDonald would run into +no danger in that direction. Their menace was to the north—beyond the +chasm out of which came the rumble and roar of the stream. When Donald had +disappeared up the slope he looked more closely at the rugged walls of rock +that shut them in on that side. He could see no break in them. His eyes +followed the dark streak in the floor of the plain, which was the chasm. It +was two hundred yards below where they were standing; and a hundred yards +beyond the tepee he saw where it came out of a great rent in the mountain. +He looked at Joanne. She had been watching him, and was breathing quickly.</p> + +<p>"While Donald is taking his look from the mountain, I'm going to +investigate the chasm," he said.</p> + +<p>She followed him, a few steps behind. The roar grew in their ears as they +advanced. After a little solid rock replaced the earth under their feet, +and twenty paces from the precipice Aldous took Joanne by the hand. They +went to the edge and looked over. Fifty feet below them the stream was +caught in the narrow space between the two chasm walls, and above the rush +and roar of it Aldous heard the startled cry that came from Joanne. She +clutched his hand fiercely. Fascinated she gazed down. The water, speeding +like a millrace, was a lather of foam; and up through this foam there shot +the crests of great rocks, as though huge monsters of some kind were at +play, whipping the torrent into greater fury, and bellowing forth +thunderous voices. Downstream Aldous could see that the tumult grew less; +from the rent in the mountain came the deeper, more distant-rolling thunder +that they had heard on the other side of the range. And then, as he looked, +a sharper cry broke from Joanne, and she dragged him back from the ledge, +and pointed toward the tepee.</p> + +<p>Out from among the rocks had appeared a human figure. It was a woman. Her +hair was streaming wildly about her, and in the sun it was black as a +crow's wing. She rushed to the tepee, opened the flap, and looked in. Then +she turned, and a cry that was almost a scream rang from her lips. In +another moment she had seen Aldous and Joanne, and was running toward them. +They advanced to meet her. Suddenly Aldous stopped, and with a sharp +warning to Joanne he threw his rifle half to his shoulder, and faced the +rocks from which the speeding figure had come. In that same instant they +both recognized her. It was Marie, the woman who had ridden the bear at +Tête Jaune, and with whom Mortimer FitzHugh had bought Joe DeBar!</p> + +<p>She staggered up to them, panting, exhausted, her breath coming in gulping +sobs. For a moment she could not speak. Her dress was torn; her waist was +ripped so that it exposed her throat and shoulder; and the front of the +waist and her face were stained with blood. Her black eyes shone like a +madwoman's. Fiercely she fought to get her breath, and all the time she +clung to Joanne, and looked at Aldous. She pointed toward the rocks—the +chaotic upheaval that lay between the tepee and the chasm—and words broke +gaspingly from her lips.</p> + +<p>"They're coming!--coming!" she cried. "They killed Joe—murdered him—and +they're coming—to kill you!" She clutched a hand to her breast, and then +pointed with it to the mountain where MacDonald had gone. "They saw him +go—and they sent two men to kill him; and the rest are coming through the +rocks!" She turned sobbingly to Joanne. "They killed Joe," she moaned. +"They killed Joe, and they're coming—for <i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>The emphasis on that final word struck like a blow in the ears of John +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"Run for the spruce!" he commanded. "Joanne, run!"</p> + +<p>Marie had crumpled down in a moaning heap at Joanne's feet, and sat swaying +with her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"They killed him—they murdered my Joe!" she was sobbing. "And it was my +fault—my fault! I trapped him! I sold him! And, oh, my God, I loved him—I +loved him!"</p> + +<p>"Run, Joanne!" commanded Aldous a second time. "Run for the spruce!"</p> + +<p>Instead of obeying him, Joanne knelt down beside Marie.</p> + +<p>He went to speak again, but there came an interruption—a thing that was +like the cold touch of lead in his own heart. From up on the mountain where +the old mountaineer had walked into the face of death there came the +sharp, splitting report of a rifle; and in that same instant it was +followed by another and still a third—quick, stinging, whiplike +reports—and he knew that not one of them had come from the gun of Donald +MacDonald!</p> + +<p>And then he saw that the rocks behind the tepee had become suddenly alive +with men!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<br> + +<p>Sheer amazement made Aldous hold his fire in that first moment. Marie had +said that two men were after MacDonald. He had heard three shots nearly a +mile away, and she was still sobbing that DeBar was dead. That accounted +for <i>three</i>. He had expected to see only Quade, and FitzHugh, and one other +behind the tepee. And there were six! He counted them as they came swiftly +out from the shelter of the rocks to the level of the plain. He was about +to fire when he thought of Joanne and Marie. They were still behind him, +crouching upon the ground. To fire from where he stood would draw a +fusillade of bullets in their direction, and with another warning cry to +Joanne, he sped twenty paces to one side so that they would not be within +range. Not until then did the attacking party see him.</p> + +<p>At a hundred and fifty yards he had no time to pick out Quade or Mortimer +FitzHugh. He fired first at a group of three, and one of the three crumpled +down as though his skull had been crushed from above. A rifle spat back at +him and the bullet sang like a ripping cloth close over his head. He +dropped to his knees before he fired again, and a bullet clove the air +where he had stood. The crack of rifles did not hurry him. He knew that he +had six cartridges, and only six, and he aimed deliberately. At his second +shot the man he had fired at ran forward three or four steps, and then +pitched flat on his face. For a flash Aldous thought that it was Mortimer +FitzHugh. Then, along his gun barrel, he saw FitzHugh—and pulled the +trigger. It was a miss.</p> + +<p>Two men had dropped upon their knees and were aiming more carefully. He +swung his sight to the foremost, and drove a bullet straight through his +chest. The next moment something seemed to have fallen upon him with +crushing weight. A red sea rose before his eyes. In it he was submerged; +the roar of it filled his ears; it blinded him; and in the suffocating +embrace of it he tried to cry out. He fought himself out of it, his eyes +cleared, and he could see again. His rifle was no longer in his hands, and +he was standing. Twenty feet away men were rushing upon him. His brain +recovered itself with the swiftness of lightning. A bullet had stunned him, +but he was not badly hurt. He jerked out his automatic, but before he could +raise it, or even fire from his hip, the first of his assailants was upon +him with a force that drove it from his hand. They went down together, and +as they struggled on the bare rock Aldous caught for a fraction of a second +a scene that burned itself like fire in his brain. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh +with a revolver in his hand. He had stopped; he was staring like one +looking upon the ghost of the dead, and as he stared there rose above the +rumbling roar of the chasm a wild and terrible shriek from Joanne.</p> + +<p>Aldous saw no more then. He was not fighting for his life, but for her, and +he fought with the mad ferocity of a tiger. As he struck, and choked, and +beat the head of his assailant on the rock, he heard shriek after shriek +come from Joanne's lips; and then for a flash he saw them again, and +Joanne was struggling in the arms of Quade!</p> + +<p>He struggled to his knees, and the man he was fighting struggled to his +knees; and then they came to their feet, locked in a death-grip on the edge +of the chasm. From Quade's clutch he saw Joanne staring at Mortimer +FitzHugh; then her eyes shot to him, and with another shriek she fought to +free herself.</p> + +<p>For thirty seconds of that terrible drama Mortimer FitzHugh stood as if +hewn out of rock. Then he sprang toward the fighters.</p> + +<p>In the arms of John Aldous was the strength of ten men. He twisted the head +of his antagonist under his arm; he braced his feet—in another moment he +would have flung him bodily into the roaring maelstrom below. Even as his +muscles gathered themselves for the final effort he knew that all was lost. +Mortimer FitzHugh's face leered over his shoulder, his demoniac intention +was in his eyes before he acted. With a cry of hatred and of triumph he +shoved them both over the edge, and as Aldous plunged to the depths below, +still holding to his enemy, he heard a last piercing scream from Joanne.</p> + +<p>As the rock slid away from under his feet his first thought was that the +end had come, and that no living creature could live in the roaring +maelstrom of rock and, flood into which he was plunging. But quicker than +he dashed through space his mind worked. Instinctively, without time for +reasoning, he gripped at the fact that his one chance lay in the close +embrace of his enemy. He hung to him. It seemed to him that they turned +over and over a hundred times in that distance of fifty feet. Then a mass +of twisting foam broke under him, and up out of it shot the head of one of +the roaring monsters of rock that he and Joanne had looked upon. They +struck it fairly, and Aldous was uppermost. He felt the terrific impact of +the other's body. The foam boiled upward again, and they slipped off into +the flood.</p> + +<p>Still Aldous held to his enemy. He could feel that he was limp now; he no +longer felt the touch of the hands that had choked him, or the embrace of +the arms that had struggled with him. He believed that his antagonist was +dead. The fifty-foot fall, with the rock splitting his back, had killed +him. For a moment Aldous still clung to him as they sank together under the +surface, torn and twisted by the whirling eddies and whirlpools. It seemed +to him that they would never cease going down, that they were sinking a +vast distance.</p> + +<p>Dully he felt the beat of rocks. Then it flashed upon him that the dead man +was sinking like a weighted thing. He freed himself. Fiercely he struggled +to bring himself to the surface. It seemed an eternity before he rose to +the top. He opened his mouth and drew a great gulp of air into his lungs. +The next instant a great rock reared like a living thing in his face; he +plunged against it, was beaten over it, and again he was going +down—down—in that deadly clutch of maelstrom and undertow. Again he +fought, and again he came to the surface. He saw a black, slippery wall +gliding past him with the speed of an express train. And now it seemed as +though a thousand clubs were beating him. Ahead of him were rocks—nothing +but rocks.</p> + +<p>He shot through them like a piece of driftwood. The roaring in his ears +grew less, and he felt the touch of something under his feet. Sunlight +burst upon him. He caught at a rock, and hung to it. His eyes cleared a +little. He was within ten feet of a shore covered with sand and gravel. The +water was smooth and running with a musical ripple. Waist-deep he waded +through it to the shore, and fell down upon his knees, with his face buried +in his arms. He had been ten minutes in the death-grip of the chasm. It was +another ten minutes before he staggered to his feet and looked about him.</p> + +<p>His face was beaten until he was almost blind. His shirt had been torn from +his shoulders and his flesh was bleeding. He advanced a few steps. He +raised one arm and then the other. He limped. One arm hurt him when he +moved it, but the bone was sound. He was terribly mauled, but he knew that +no bones were broken, and a gasp of thankfulness fell from his lips. All +this time his mind had been suffering even more than his body. Not for an +instant, even as he fought for life between the chasm walls, and as he lay +half unconscious on the rock, had he forgotten Joanne. His one thought was +of her now. He had no weapon, but as he stumbled in the direction of the +camp in the little plain he picked up a club that lay in his path.</p> + +<p>That MacDonald was dead, Aldous was certain. There would be four against +him—Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh and the two men who had gone to the +mountain. His brain cleared swiftly as a part of his strength returned, and +it occurred to him that if he lost no time he might come upon Joanne and +her captors before the two men came from killing old Donald. He tried to +run. Not until then did he fully realize the condition he was in. Twice in +the first hundred yards his legs doubled under him and he fell down among +the rocks. He grew steadily stronger, though each time he tried to run or +spring a distance of a few feet his legs doubled under him like that. It +took him twenty minutes to get back to the edge of the plain, and when he +got there it was empty. There was no sign of Quade or FitzHugh, or of +Joanne and Marie; and there was no one coming from the direction of the +mountain.</p> + +<p>He tried to run again, and he found that over the level floor of the valley +he could make faster time than among the rocks. He went to where he had +dropped his rifle. It was gone. He searched for his automatic. That, too, +was gone. There was one weapon left—a long skinning-knife in one of the +panniers near the tepee. As he went for this, he passed two of the men whom +he had shot. Quade and FitzHugh had taken their weapons, and had turned +them over to see if they were alive or dead. They were dead. He secured the +knife, and behind the tepee he passed the third body, its face as still and +white as the others. He shuddered as he recognized it. It was Slim Barker. +His rifle was gone.</p> + +<p>More swiftly now he made his way into the break out of which his assailants +had come a short time before. The thought came to him again that he had +been right, and that Donald MacDonald, in spite of all his years in the +mountains, had been fatally wrong. Their enemies had come down from the +north, and this break led to their hiding-place. Through it Joanne must +have been taken by her captors. As he made his way over the rocks, gaining +a little more of his strength with each step, his mind tried to picture the +situation that had now arisen between Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. How +would Quade, who was mad for possession of Joanne, accept FitzHugh's claim +of ownership? Would he believe his partner? Would he even believe Joanne +if, to save herself from him, she told him FitzHugh was her husband? Even +if he believed them, <i>would he give her up?</i> Would Quade allow Mortimer +FitzHugh to stand between him and the object for which he was willing to +sacrifice everything?</p> + +<p>As Aldous asked himself these questions his blood ran hot and cold by +turns. And the answer to them drew a deep breath of fear and of anguish +from him as he tried again to run among the rocks. There could be but one +answer: Quade would fight. He would fight like a madman, and if this fight +had happened and FitzHugh had been killed Joanne had already gone utterly +and helplessly into his power. He believed that FitzHugh had not revealed +to Quade his relationship to Joanne while they were on the plain, and the +thought still more terrible came to him that he might not reveal it at all, +that he might repudiate Joanne even as she begged upon her knees for him to +save her. What a revenge it would be to see her helpless and broken in the +arms of Quade! And then, both being beasts——</p> + +<p>He could think no farther. The sweat broke out on his face as he hobbled +faster over a level space. The sound of the water between the chasm walls +was now a thunder in his ears. He could not have heard a rifle-shot or a +scream a hundred yards away. The trail he was following had continually +grown narrower. It seemed to end a little ahead of him, and the fear that +he had come the wrong way after all filled him with dread. He came to the +face of the mountain wall, and then, to his left, he saw a crack that was +no wider than a man's body. In it there was sand, and the, sand was beaten +by footprints! He wormed his way through, and a moment later stood at the +edge of the chasm. Fifty feet above him a natural bridge of rock spanned +the huge cleft through which the stream was rushing. He crossed this, +exposing himself openly to a shot if it was guarded. But it was not +guarded. This fact convinced him that MacDonald had been killed, and that +his enemies believed he was dead. If MacDonald had escaped, and they had +feared a possible pursuit, some one would have watched the bridge.</p> + +<p>The trail was easy to follow now. Sand and grassy earth had replaced rock +and shale; he could make out the imprints of feet—many of them—and they +led in the direction of a piece of timber that apparently edged a valley +running to the east and west. The rumble of the torrent in the chasm grew +fainter as he advanced. A couple of hundred yards farther on the trail +swung to the left again; it took him around the end of a huge rock, and as +he appeared from behind this, his knife clutched in his hand, he dropped +suddenly flat on his face, and his heart rose like a lump in his throat. +Scarcely fifty yards above him was the camp of his enemies! There were two +tepees and piles of saddles and panniers and blankets about them, but not a +soul that he could see. And then, suddenly, there rose a voice bellowing +with rage, and he recognized it as Quade's. It came from beyond the tepee, +and he rose quickly from where he had thrown himself and ran forward, with +the tepee between him and those on the other side. Close to the canvas he +dropped on his knees and crawled out behind a pile of saddles and panniers. +From here he could see.</p> + +<p>So near that he could almost have touched them were Joanne and Marie, +seated on the ground, with their backs toward him. Their hands were tied +behind them. Their feet were bound with pannier ropes. A dozen paces beyond +them were Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh.</p> + +<p>The two men were facing each other, a yard apart. Mortimer FitzHugh's face +was white, a deadly white, and he was smiling. His right hand rested +carelessly in his hunting-coat pocket. There was a sneering challenge on +his lips; in his eyes was a look that Aldous knew meant death if Quade +moved. And Quade was like a great red beast ready to spring. His eyes +seemed bulging out on his cheeks; his great hands were knotted; his +shoulders were hunched forward, and his mottled face was ablaze with +passion. In that moment's dramatic tableau Aldous glanced about swiftly. +The men from the mountain had not returned. He was alone with Quade and +Mortimer FitzHugh.</p> + +<p>Then FitzHugh spoke, very quietly, a little laughingly; but his voice +trembled, and Aldous knew what the hand was doing in the hunting-coat +pocket.</p> + +<p>"You're excited, Billy," he said. "I'm not a liar, as you've very +impolitely told me. And I'm not playing you dirt, and I haven't fallen in +love with the lady myself, as you seem to think. But she belongs to me, +body and soul. If you don't believe me—why, ask the lady herself, Billy!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he turned his sneering eyes for the fraction of a second +toward Joanne. The movement was fatal. Quade was upon him. The hand in the +coat pocket flung itself upward, there followed a muffled report, but the +bullet flew wide. In all his life Aldous had never heard a sound like the +roar that came from Quade's throat then. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh's hand +appear with a pistol in it, and then the pistol was gone. He did not see +where it went to. He gripped his knife and waited, his heart beating with +what seemed like smothered explosions as he watched for the opportunity +which he knew would soon come. He expected to see FitzHugh go down under +Quade's huge bulk. Instead of that, a small, iron fist shot upward and +Quade's head went back as if broken from his neck.</p> + +<p>FitzHugh sprang a step backward, and in the movement his heel caught the +edge of a pack-saddle. He stumbled, almost fell, and before he could +recover himself Quade was at him again. This time there was something in +the red brute's hand. It rose and fell once—and Mortimer FitzHugh reeled +backward with a moaning cry, swayed for a second or two on his feet, and +fell to the ground. Quade turned. In his hand was a bloody knife. Madness +and passion and the triumphant joy of a demon were in his face as he glared +at his helpless prey. As Aldous crouched lower his shoulder touched one of +the saddles. It slipped from the pile, one of the panniers followed it, and +Quade saw him. There was no longer reason for concealment, and as Quade +stood paralyzed for a moment Aldous sprang forth into the space between him +and Joanne. He heard the cry that broke strangely from her lips but he did +not turn his head. He advanced upon Quade, his head lowered, the long +skinning-knife gleaming in his hand.</p> + +<p>John Aldous knew that words would avail nothing in these last few minutes +between him and Quade. The latter had already hunched himself forward, the +red knife in his hand poised at his waistline. He was terrible. His huge +bulk, his red face and bull neck, his eyes popping from behind their fleshy +lids, and the dripping blade in the shapeless hulk of his hand gave him the +appearance as he stood there of some monstrous gargoyle instead of a thing +of flesh and blood. And Aldous was terrible to look at, but in a way that +wrung a moaning cry from Joanne. His face was livid from the beat of the +rocks; it was crusted with blood; his eyes were partly closed, and what +remained of his shirt was drenched with blood that still ran from the deep +cuts in his arms and shoulders. But it was he who advanced, and Quade who +stood and waited.</p> + +<p>Aldous knew little or nothing of knife-fighting; and he realized, also, +that there was a strange weakness in his arms and body caused by his battle +with the maelstroms in the chasm. But he had wrestled a great deal with the +Indians of the north, who fought as their half-wolf sledgedogs fought, and +he employed their methods now. Slowly and deliberately he began to circle +around Quade, so that Quade became the pivot of that circle, and as he +circled he drew nearer and nearer to his enemy, but never in a frontal +advance. He edged inward, with his knife-arm on the outside. His deadly +deliberateness and the steady glare of his eyes discomfited Quade, who +suddenly took a step backward.</p> + +<p>It was always when the Indian made this step that his opponent darted in; +and Aldous, with this in mind, sprang to the attack. Their knives clashed +in midair. As they met, hilt to hilt, Aldous threw his whole weight against +Quade, darted sidewise, and with a terrific lunge brought the blade of his +knife down between Quade's shoulders. A straight blade would have gone from +back to chest through muscle and sinew, but the knife which Aldous held +scarcely pierced the other's clothes.</p> + +<p>Not until then did he fully realize the tremendous odds against him. The +curved blade of his skinning-knife would not penetrate! His one hope was to +cut with it. He flung out his arm before Quade had fully recovered, and +blind luck carried the keen edge of the knife across his enemy's pouchy +cheek. The blood came in a spurt, and with a terrible cry Quade leaped back +toward the pile of saddles and panniers. Before Aldous could follow his +advantage the other had dropped his knife and had snatched up a four-foot +length of a tepee pole. For a moment he hesitated while the blood ran in a +hot flood down his thick neck. Then with a bellow of rage he rushed upon +Aldous.</p> + +<p>It was no time for knife-work now. As the avalanche of brute strength +descended upon him Aldous gathered himself for the shock. He had already +measured his own weakness. Those ten minutes among the rocks of the chasm +had broken and beaten him until his strength was gone. He was panting from +his first onset with Quade, but his brain was working. And he knew that +Quade was no longer a reasoning thing. He had ceased to think. He was blind +with the passion of the brute, and his one thought was to crush his enemy +down under the weight of the club in his huge hands. Aldous waited. He +heard Joanne's terrified scream when Quade was almost upon him—when less +than five feet separated them. The club was descending when he flung +himself forward, straight for the other's feet. The club crashed over him, +and with what strength he had he gripped Quade at the knees. With a +tremendous thud Quade came to earth. The club broke from the grip of his +hands. For a moment he was stunned, and in that moment Aldous was at his +throat.</p> + +<p>He would have sold the best of his life for the skinning-knife. But he had +lost it in gripping Quade. And now he choked—with every ounce of strength +in him he choked at the thick red neck of his enemy. Quade's hands reached +for his own throat. They found it. And both choked, lying there gasping and +covered with blood! while Joanne struggled vainly to free herself, and +scream after scream rang from her lips. And John Aldous knew that at last +the end had come. For there was no longer strength in his arms, and there +was something that was like a strange cramp in his fingers, while the +clutch at his own throat was turning the world black. His grip relaxed. His +hands fell limp. The last that he realized was that Quade was over him, and +that he must be dying.</p> + +<p>Then it was, as he lay within a final second or two of death, no longer +conscious of physical attack or of Joanne's terrible cries, that a strange +and unforeseen thing occurred. Beyond the tepee a man had risen from the +earth. He staggered toward them, and it was from Marie that the wildest and +strangest cry of all came now. For the man was Joe DeBar! In his hand he +held a knife. Swaying and stumbling he came to the fighters—from behind. +Quade did not see him, and over Quade's huge back he poised himself. The +knife rose; for the fraction of a second it trembled in midair. Then it +descended, and eight inches of steel went to the heart of Quade.</p> + +<p>And as DeBar turned and staggered toward Joanne and Marie, John Aldous was +sinking deeper and deeper into a black and abysmal night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<br> + +<p>In that chaotic night in which he was drifting, light as a feather floating +on the wind, John Aldous experienced neither pain nor very much of the +sense of life. And yet, without seeing or feeling, he seemed to be living, +All was dead in him but that last consciousness, which is almost the +spirit; he might have been dreaming, and minutes, hours, or even years +might have passed in that dream. For a long time he seemed to be sinking +through the blackness; and then something stopped him, without jar or +shock, and he was rising. He could hear nothing. There was a vast silence +about him, a silence as deep and as unbroken as the abysmal pit in which he +seemed to be softly floating.</p> + +<p>After a time Aldous felt himself swaying and rocking, as though tossed +gently on the billows of a sea. This was the first thought that took shape +in his struggling brain—he was at sea; he was on a ship in the heart of a +black night, and he was alone. He tried to call out, but his tongue seemed +gone. It seemed a very long time before day broke, and then it was a +strange day. Little needles of light pricked his eyes; silver strings shot +like flashes of weblike lightning through the darkness, and after that he +saw for an instant a strange glare. It was gone in one big, powderlike +flash, and he was in night again. These days and nights seemed to follow +one another swiftly now, and the nights grew less dark, and the days +brighter. He was conscious of sounds and buffetings, and it was very hot.</p> + +<p>Out of this heat there came a cool, soft breeze that was continually +caressing his face, and eyes, and head. It was like the touch of a spirit +hand. It became more and more real to him. It caressed him into a dark and +comfortable oblivion. Out of this oblivion a still brighter day roused him. +His brain seemed clear. He opened his eyes. A white cloud was hovering over +them; it fell softly; it was cool and gentle. Then it rose again, and it +was not a cloud, but a hand! The hand moved away, and he was looking into a +pair of wide-open, staring, prayerful eyes, and a little cry came to him, +and a voice.</p> + +<p>"John—John——"</p> + +<p>He was drifting again, but now he knew that he was alive. He heard +movement. He heard voices. They were growing nearer and more distinct. He +tried to cry out Joanne's name, and it came in a whispering breath between +his lips. But Joanne heard; and he heard her calling to him; he felt her +hands; she was imploring him to open his eyes, to speak to her. It seemed +many minutes before he could do this, but at last he succeeded. And this +time his vision was not so blurred. He could see plainly. Joanne was there, +hovering over him, and just beyond her was the great bearded face of Donald +MacDonald. And then, before words had formed on his lips, he did a +wonderful thing. He smiled.</p> + +<p>"O my God, I thank Thee!" he heard Joanne cry out, and then she was on her +knees, and her face was against his, and she was sobbing.</p> + +<p>He knew that it was MacDonald who drew her away.</p> + +<p>The great head bent over him.</p> + +<p>"Take this, will 'ee, Johnny boy?"</p> + +<p>Aldous stared.</p> + +<p>"Mac, you're—alive," he breathed.</p> + +<p>"Alive as ever was, Johnny. Take this."</p> + +<p>He swallowed. And then Joanne hovered over him again, and he put up his +hands to her face, and her glorious eyes were swimming seas as she kissed +him and choked back the sobs in her throat. He buried his fingers in her +hair. He held her head close to him, and for many minutes no one spoke, +while MacDonald stood and looked down on them. In those minutes everything +returned to him. The fight was over. MacDonald had come in time to save him +from Quade. But—and now his eyes stared upward through the sheen of +Joanne's hair—he was in a cabin! He recognized it. It was Donald +MacDonald's old home. When Joanne raised her head he looked about him +without speaking. He was in the wide bunk built against the wall. Sunlight +was filtering through a white curtain at the window, and in the open door +he saw the anxious face of Marie.</p> + +<p>He tried to lift himself, and was amazed to find that he could not. Very +gently Joanne urged him back on his pillow. Her face was a glory of life +and of joy. He obeyed her as he would have obeyed the hand of the Madonna. +She saw all his questioning.</p> + +<p>"You must be quiet, John," she said, and never had he heard in her voice +the sweetness of love that was in it now. "We will tell you +everything—Donald and I. But you must be quiet. You were terribly beaten +among the rocks. We brought you here at noon, and the sun is setting—and +until now you have not opened your eyes. Everything is well. But you must +be quiet. You were terribly bruised by the rocks, dear."</p> + +<p>It was sweet to lie under the caresses of her hand. He drew her face down +to him.</p> + +<p>"Joanne, my darling, you understand now—why I wanted to come alone into +the North?"</p> + +<p>Her lips pressed warm and soft against his.</p> + +<p>"I know," she whispered, and he could feel her arras trembling, and her +breath coming quickly. Gently she drew away from him. "I am going to make +you some broth," she said then.</p> + +<p>He watched her as she went out of the cabin, one white hand lifted to her +throat.</p> + +<p>Old Donald MacDonald seated himself on the edge of the bunk. He looked down +at Aldous, chuckling in his beard; and Aldous, with his bruised and swollen +face and half-open eyes, grinned like a happy fiend.</p> + +<p>"It was a wunerful, wunerful fight, Johnny!" said old Donald.</p> + +<p>"It was, Mac. And you came in fine on the home stretch!"</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean—home stretch?" queried Donald leaning over.</p> + +<p>"You saved me from Quade."</p> + +<p>Donald fairly groaned.</p> + +<p>"I didn't, Johnny—I didn't! DeBar killed 'im. It was all over when I come. +On'y—Johnny—I had a most cur'ous word with Culver Rann afore he died!"</p> + +<p>In his eagerness Aldous was again trying to sit up when Joanne appeared in +the doorway. With a little cry she darted to him, forced him gently back, +and brushed old Donald off the edge of the bunk.</p> + +<p>"Go out and watch the broth, Donald," she commanded firmly. Then she said +to Aldous, stroking back his hair, "I forbade you to talk. John, dear, +aren't you going to mind me?"</p> + +<p>"Did Quade get me with the knife?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"Am I shot?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear."</p> + +<p>"Any bones broken?"</p> + +<p>"Donald says not."</p> + +<p>"Then please give me my pipe, Joanne—and let me get up. Why do you want me +to lie here when I'm strong like an ox, as Donald says?"</p> + +<p>Joanne laughed happily.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> getting better every minute," she cried joyously. "But you were +terribly beaten by the rocks, John. If you will wait until you have the +broth I will let you sit up."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, when he had swallowed his broth, Joanne kept her +promise. Only then did he realize that there was not a bone or a muscle in +his body that did not have its own particular ache. He grimaced when Joanne +and Donald bolstered him up with blankets at his back. But he was happy. +Twilight was coming swiftly, and as Joanne gave the final pats and turns to +the blankets and pillows, MacDonald was lighting half a dozen candles +placed around the room.</p> + +<p>"Any watch to-night, Donald?" asked Aldous.</p> + +<p>"No, Johnny, there ain't no watch to-night," replied the old mountaineer.</p> + +<p>He came and seated himself on a bench with Joanne. For half an hour after +that Aldous listened to a recital of the strange things that had +happened—how poor marksmanship had saved MacDonald on the mountain-side, +and how at last the duel had ended with the old hunter killing those who +had come to slay him. When they came to speak of DeBar, Joanne leaned +nearer to Aldous.</p> + +<p>"It is wonderful what love will sometimes do," she spoke softly. "In the +last few hours Marie has bared her soul to me, John. What she has been she +has not tried to hide from me, nor even from the man she loves. She was one +of Mortimer FitzHugh's tools. DeBar saw her and loved her, and she sold +herself to him in exchange for the secret of the gold. When they came into +the North the wonderful thing happened. She loved DeBar—not in the way of +her kind, but as a woman in whom had been born a new heart and a new soul +and a new joy. She defied FitzHugh; she told DeBar how she had tricked him.</p> + +<p>"This morning FitzHugh attempted his old familiarity with her, and DeBar +struck him down. The act gave them excuse for what they had planned to do. +Before her eyes Marie thought they had killed the man she loved. She flung +herself on his breast, and she said she could not feel his heart beat, and +his blood flowed warm against her hands and face. Both she and DeBar had +determined to warn us if they could. Only a few minutes before DeBar was +stabbed he had let off his rifle—an accident, he said. But it was not an +accident. It was the shot Donald heard in the cavern. It saved us, John! +And Marie, waiting her opportunity, fled to us in the plain. DeBar was not +killed. He says my screams brought him back to life. He came out—and +killed Quade with a knife. Then he fell at our feet. A few minutes later +Donald came. DeBar is in another cabin. He is not fatally hurt, and Marie +is happy."</p> + +<p>She was stroking his hand when she finished. The curious rumbling came +softly in MacDonald's beard and his eyes were bright with a whimsical +humour.</p> + +<p>"I pretty near bored a hole through poor Joe when I come up," he chuckled. +"But you bet I hugged him when I found what he'd done, Johnny! Joe says +their camp was just over the range from us that night FitzHugh looked us +up, an' Joanne thought she'd been dreamin'. He didn't have any help, but +his intention was to finish us alone—murder us asleep—when Joanne cried +out. Joe says it was just a devil's freak that took 'im to the top of the +mountain alone that night. He saw our fire an' came down to investigate."</p> + +<p>A low voice was calling outside the door. It was Marie. As Joanne went to +her a quick gleam came into old Donald's eyes. He looked behind him +cautiously to see that she had disappeared, then he bent over Aldous, and +whispered hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"Johnny, I had a most cur'ous word with Rann—or FitzHugh—afore he died! +He wasn't dead when I went to him. But he knew he was dyin'; an' Johnny, he +was smilin' an' cool to the end. I wanted to ask 'im a question, Johnny. I +was dead cur'ous to know <i>why the grave were empty!</i> But he asked for +Joanne, an' I couldn't break in on his last breath. I brought her. The +first thing he asked her was how people had took it when they found out +he'd poisoned his father! When Joanne told him no one had ever thought he'd +killed his father, FitzHugh sat leanin' against the saddles for a minit so +white an' still I thought he 'ad died with his eyes open. Then it came out, +Johnny. He was smilin' as he told it. He killed his father with poison to +get his money. Later he came to America. He didn't have time to tell us how +he come to think they'd discovered his crime. He was dyin' as he talked. It +came out sort o' slobberingly, Johnny. He thought they'd found 'im out. He +changed his name, an' sent out the report that Mortimer FitzHugh had died +in the mount'ins. But Johnny, he died afore I could ask him about the +grave!"</p> + +<p>There was a final note of disappointment in old Donald's voice that was +almost pathetic.</p> + +<p>"It was such a cur'ous grave," he said. "An' the clothes were laid out so +prim an' nice."</p> + +<p>Aldous laid his hand on MacDonald's.</p> + +<p>"It's easy, Mac," he said, and he wanted to laugh at the disappointment +that was still in the other's face. "Don't you see? He never expected any +one to dig <i>into</i> the grave. And he put the clothes and the watch and the +ring in there to get rid of them. They might have revealed his identity. +Why, Donald——"</p> + +<p>Joanne was coming to them again. She laid a cool hand on his forehead and +held up a warning finger to MacDonald.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she said gently, "Your head is very hot, dear, and there must be +no more talking. You must lie down and sleep. Tell John good-night, +Donald!"</p> + +<p>Like a boy MacDonald did as she told him, and disappeared through the cabin +door. Joanne levelled the pillows and lowered John's head.</p> + +<p>"I can't sleep, Joanne," he protested.</p> + +<p>"I will sit here close at your side and stroke your face and hair," she +said gently.</p> + +<p>"And you will talk to me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I must not talk. But, John——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"If you will promise to be very, very quiet, and let me be very quiet——"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I will make you a pillow of my hair."</p> + +<p>"I—will be quiet," he whispered.</p> + +<p>She unbound her hair, and leaned over so that it fell in a flood on his +pillow. With a sigh of contentment he buried his face in the rich, sweet +masses of it. Gently, like the cooling breeze that had come to him in his +hours of darkness, her hand caressed him. He closed his eyes; he drank in +the intoxicating perfume of her tresses; and after a little he slept.</p> + +<p>For many hours Joanne sat at his bedside, sleepless, and rejoicing.</p> + +<p>When Aldous awoke it was dawn in the cabin. Joanne was gone. For a few +minutes he continued to lie with his face toward the window. He knew that +he had slept a long time, and that the day was breaking. Slowly he raised +himself. The terrible ache in his body was gone; he was still lame, but no +longer helpless. He drew himself cautiously to the edge of the bunk and +sat there for a time, testing himself before he got up. He was delighted at +the result of the experiments. He rose to his feet. His clothes were +hanging against the wall, and he dressed himself. Then he opened the door +and walked out into the morning, limping a little as he went. MacDonald was +up. Joanne's tepee was close to the cabin. The two men greeted each other +quietly, and they talked in low voices, but Joanne heard them, and a few +moments later she ran out with her hair streaming about her and went +straight into the arms of John Aldous.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of the three wonderful days that yet remained for +Joanne and John Aldous in Donald MacDonald's little valley of gold and +sunshine and blue skies. They were strange and beautiful days, filled with +a great peace and a great happiness, and in them wonderful changes were at +work. On the second day Joanne and Marie rode alone to the cavern where +Jane lay, and when they returned in the golden sun of the afternoon they +were leading their horses, and walking hand in hand. And when they came +down to where DeBar and Aldous and Donald MacDonald were testing the +richness of the black sand along the stream there was a light in Marie's +eyes and a radiance in Joanne's face which told again that world-old story +of a Mary Magdalene and the dawn of another Day. And now, Aldous thought, +Marie had become beautiful; and Joanne laughed softly and happily that +night, and confided many things into the ears of Aldous, while Marie and +DeBar talked for a long time alone out under the stars, and came back at +last hand in hand, like two children. Before they went to bed Marie +whispered something to Joanne, and a little later Joanne whispered it to +Aldous.</p> + +<p>"They want to know if they can be married with us, John," she said. "That +is, if you haven't grown tired of trying to marry me, dear," she added with +a happy laugh. "Have you?"</p> + +<p>His answer satisfied her. And when she told a small part of it to Marie, +the other woman's dark eyes grew as soft as the night, and she whispered +the words to Joe.</p> + +<p>The third and last day was the most beautiful of all. Joe's knife wound was +not bad. He had suffered most from a blow on the head. Both he and Aldous +were in condition to travel, and plans were made to begin the homeward +journey on the fourth morning. MacDonald had unearthed another dozen sacks +of the hidden gold, and he explained to Aldous what must be done to secure +legal possession of the little valley. His manner of doing this was +unnatural and strained. His words came haltingly. There was unhappiness in +his eyes. It was in his voice. It was in the odd droop of his shoulders. +And finally, when they were alone, he said to Aldous, with almost a sob in +his voice:</p> + +<p>"Johnny—Johnny, if on'y the gold were not here!"</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes to the mountain, and Aldous took one of his big gnarled +hands in both his own.</p> + +<p>"Say it, Mac," he said gently. "I guess I know what it is."</p> + +<p>"It ain't fair to you, Johnny," said old Donald, still with his eyes on the +mountains. "It ain't fair to you. But when you take out the claims down +there it'll start a rush. You know what it means, Johnny. There'll be a +thousand men up here; an' mebby you can't understand—but there's the +cavern an' Jane an' the little cabin here; an' it seems like desecratin' +<i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>His voice choked, and as Aldous gripped the big hand harder in his own he +laughed.</p> + +<p>"It would, Mac," he said. "I've been watching you while we made the plans. +These cabins and the gold have been here for more than forty years without +discovery, Donald—and they won't be discovered again so long as Joe DeBar +and John Aldous and Donald MacDonald have a word to say about it. We'll +take out no claims, Mac. The valley isn't ours. It's Jane's valley and +yours!"</p> + +<p>Joanne, coming up just then, wondered what the two men had been saying that +they stood as they did, with hands clasped. Aldous told her. And then old +Donald confessed to them what was in his mind, and what he had kept from +them. At last he had found his home, and he was not going to leave it +again. He was going to stay with Jane. He was going to bring her from the +cavern and bury her near the cabin, and he pointed out the spot, covered +with wild hyacinths and asters, where she used to sit on the edge of the +stream and watch him while he worked for gold. And they could return each +year and dig for gold, and he would dig for gold while they were away, and +they could have it all. All that he wanted was enough to eat, and Jane, and +the little valley. And Joanne turned from him as he talked, her face +streaming with tears, and in John's throat was a great lump, and he looked +away from MacDonald to the mountains.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that on the fourth morning, when they went into the +south, they stopped on the last knoll that shut out the little valley from +the larger valley, and looked back. And Donald MacDonald stood alone in +front of the cabin waving them good-bye.</p> + +<h5>THE END</h5> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hunted Woman, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 11328-h.htm or 11328-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/3/2/11328/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hunted Woman + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: February 27, 2004 [EBook #11328] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +BY + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of KAZAN, Etc. + +Illustrated by + +FRANK B. HOFFMAN + + +1915 + +TO MY WIFE + +AND + +OUR COMRADES OF THE TRAIL + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +"'Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me +North, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling MacDonald.'" + +A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "'Another o' them Dotty Dimples +come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a little, an' +so I sent her to Bill's place'" + +"A crowd was gathering.... A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering +silk was standing beside a huge brown bear" + +"'The tunnel is closed,' she whispered.... 'That means we have just +forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another.'" + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was all new--most of it singularly dramatic and even appalling to the +woman who sat with the pearl-gray veil drawn closely about her face. For +eighteen hours she had been a keenly attentive, wide-eyed, and partly +frightened bit of humanity in this onrush of "the horde." She had heard a +voice behind her speak of it as "the horde"--a deep, thick, gruff voice +which she knew without looking had filtered its way through a beard. She +agreed with the voice. It was the Horde--that horde which has always beaten +the trails ahead for civilization and made of its own flesh and blood the +foundation of nations. For months it had been pouring steadily into the +mountains--always in and never out, a laughing, shouting, singing, +blaspheming Horde, every ounce of it toughened sinew and red brawn, except +the Straying Angels. One of these sat opposite her, a dark-eyed girl with +over-red lips and hollowed cheeks, and she heard the bearded man say +something to his companions about "dizzy dolls" and "the little angel in +the other seat." This same voice, gruffened in its beard, had told her that +ten thousand of the Horde had gone up ahead of them. Then it whispered +something that made her hands suddenly tighten and a hot flush sweep +through her. She lifted her veil and rose slowly from her seat, as if to +rearrange her dress. Casually she looked straight into the faces of the +bearded man and his companion in the seat behind. They stared. After that +she heard nothing more of the Straying Angels, but only a wildly mysterious +confabulation about "rock hogs," and "coyotes" that blew up whole +mountains, and a hundred and one things about the "rail end." She learned +that it was taking five hundred steers a week to feed the Horde that lay +along the Grand Trunk Pacific between Hogan's Camp and the sea, and that +there were two thousand souls at Tete Jaune Cache, which until a few months +before had slumbered in a century-old quiet broken only by the Indian and +his trade. Then the train stopped in its twisting trail, and the bearded +man and his companion left the car. As they passed her they glanced down. +Again the veil was drawn close. A shimmering tress of hair had escaped its +bondage; that was all they saw. + +[Illustration: "Look at MacDonald.... It's not the gold, but MacDonald, +that's taking me north, Ladygray.... Up there, another grave is calling +MacDonald."] + +The veiled woman drew a deeper breath when they were gone. She saw that +most of the others were getting off. In her end of the car the +hollow-cheeked girl and she were alone. Even in their aloneness these two +women had not dared to speak until now. The one raised her veil again, and +their eyes met across the aisle. For a moment the big, dark, sick-looking +eyes of the "angel" stared. Like the bearded man and his companion, she, +too, understood, and an embarrassed flush added to the colour of the rouge +on her cheeks. The eyes that looked across at her were blue--deep, quiet, +beautiful. The lifted veil had disclosed to her a face that she could not +associate with the Horde. The lips smiled at her--the wonderful eyes +softened with a look of understanding, and then the veil was lowered again. +The flush in the girl's cheek died out, and she smiled back. + +"You are going to Tete Jaune?" she asked. + +"Yes. May I sit with you for a few minutes? I want to ask questions--so +many!" + +The hollow-cheeked girl made room for her at her side. + +"You are new?" + +"Quite new--to this." + +The words, and the manner in which they were spoken, made the other glance +quickly at her companion. + +"It is a strange place to go--Tete Jaune," she said. "It is a terrible +place for a woman." + +"And yet you are going?" + +"I have friends there. Have you?" + +"No." + +The girl stared at her in amazement. Her voice and her eyes were bolder +now. + +"And without friends you are going--_there?_" she cried. "You have no +husband--no brother----" + +"What place is this?" interrupted the other, raising her veil so that she +could look steadily into the other's face. "Would you mind telling me?" + +"It is Miette," replied the girl, the flush reddening her cheeks again. +"There's one of the big camps of the railroad builders down on the Flats. +You can see it through the window. That river is the Athabasca." + +"Will the train stop here very long?" + +The Little Angel shrugged her thin shoulders despairingly. + +"Long enough to get me into The Cache mighty late to-night," she +complained. "We won't move for two hours." + +"I'd be so glad if you could tell me where I can go for a bath and +something to eat. I'm not very hungry--but I'm terribly dusty. I want to +change some clothes, too. Is there a hotel here?" + +Her companion found the question very funny. She had a giggling fit before +she answered. + +"You're sure new," she explained. "We don't have hotels up here. We have +bed-houses, chuck-tents, and bunk-shacks. You ask for Bill's Shack down +there on the Flats. It's pretty good. They'll give you a room, plenty of +water, and a looking-glass--an' charge you a dollar. I'd go with you, but +I'm expecting a friend a little later, and if I move I may lose him. +Anybody will tell you where Bill's place is. It's a red an' white striped +tent--and it's respectable." + +The stranger girl thanked her, and turned for her bag. As she left the car, +the Little Angel's eyes followed her with a malicious gleam that gave them +the strange glow of candles in a sepulchral cavern. The colours which she +unfurled to all seeking eyes were not secret, and yet she was filled with +an inward antagonism that this stranger with the wonderful blue eyes had +dared to see them and recognize them. She stared after the retreating +form--a tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure that filled her with envy and +a dull sort of hatred. She did not hear a step behind her. A hand fell +familiarly on her shoulder, and a coarse voice laughed something in her ear +that made her jump up with an artificial little shriek of pleasure. The man +nodded toward the end of the now empty car. + +"Who's your new friend?" he asked. + +"She's no friend of mine," snapped the girl. "She's another one of them +Dolly Dimples come out to save the world. She's that innocent she wonders +why Tete Jaune ain't a nice place for ladies without escort. I thought I'd +help eggicate her a little an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, +I told her it was respectable!" + +She doubled over the seat in a fit of merriment, and her companion seized +the opportunity to look out of the window. + +The tall, blue-eyed stranger had paused for a moment on the last step of +the car to pin up her veil, fully revealing her face. Then she stepped +lightly to the ground, and found herself facing the sunlight and the +mountains. She drew a slow, deep breath between her parted lips, and turned +wonderingly, for a moment forgetful. It was the first time she had left the +train since entering the mountains, and she understood now why some one in +the coach had spoken of the Miette Plain as Sunshine Pool. Where-ever she +looked the mountains fronted her, with their splendid green slopes reaching +up to their bald caps of gray shale and reddish rock or gleaming summits of +snow. Into this "pool"--this pocket in the mountains--the sun descended in +a wonderful flood. It stirred her blood like a tonic. She breathed more +quickly; a soft glow coloured her cheeks; her eyes grew more deeply violet +as they caught the reflection of the blue sky. A gentle wind fretted the +loose tendrils of brown hair about her face. And the bearded man, staring +through the car window, saw her thus, and for an hour after that the +hollow-cheeked girl wondered at the strange change in him. + +The train had stopped at the edge of the big fill overlooking the Flats. It +was a heavy train, and a train that was helping to make history--a +combination of freight, passenger, and "cattle." It had averaged eight +miles an hour on its climb toward Yellowhead Pass and the end of steel. The +"cattle" had already surged from their stifling and foul-smelling cars in a +noisy inundation of curiously mixed humanity. They were of a dozen +different nationalities, and as the girl looked at them it was not with +revulsion or scorn but with a sudden quickening of heartbeat and a little +laugh that had in it something both of wonder and of pride. This was the +Horde, that crude, monstrous thing of primitive strength and passions that +was overturning mountains in its fight to link the new Grand Trunk Pacific +with the seaport on the Pacific. In that Horde, gathered in little groups, +shifting, sweeping slowly toward her and past her, she saw something as +omnipotent as the mountains themselves. They could not know defeat. She +sensed it without ever having seen them before. For her the Horde now had a +heart and a soul. These were the builders of empire--the man-beasts who +made it possible for Civilization to creep warily and without peril into +new places and new worlds. With a curious shock she thought of the +half-dozen lonely little wooden crosses she had seen through the car window +at odd places along the line of rail. + +And now she sought her way toward the Flats. To do this she had to climb +over a track that was waiting for ballast. A car shunted past her, and on +its side she saw the big, warning red placards--Dynamite. That one word +seemed to breathe to her the spirit of the wonderful energy that was +expending itself all about her. From farther on in the mountains came the +deep, sullen detonations of the "little black giant" that had been rumbling +past her in the car. It came again and again, like the thunderous voice of +the mountains themselves calling out in protest and defiance. And each time +she felt a curious thrill under her feet and the palpitant touch of +something that was like a gentle breath in her ears. She found another +track on her way, and other cars slipped past her crunchingly. Beyond this +second track she came to a beaten road that led down into the Flats, and +she began to descend. + +[Illustration: A tall, slim, exquisitely poised figure.... "Another o' them +Dotty Dimples come out to save the world. I thought I'd help eggicate her a +little, an' so I sent her to Bill's place. Oh, my Lord, I told her it was +respectable!"] + +Tents shone through the trees on the bottom. The rattle of the cars grew +more distant, and she heard the hum and laughter of voices and the jargon +of a phonograph. At the bottom of the slope she stepped aside to allow a +team and wagon to pass. The wagon was loaded with boxes that rattled and +crashed about as the wheels bumped over stones and roots. The driver of the +team did not look at her. He was holding back with his whole weight; his +eyes bulged a little; he was sweating, in his face was a comedy of +expression that made the girl smile in spite of herself. Then she saw one +of the bobbing boxes and the smile froze into a look of horror. On it was +painted that ominous word--DYNAMITE! + +Two men were coming behind her. + +"Six horses, a wagon an' old Fritz--blown to hell an' not a splinter left +to tell the story," one of them was saying. "I was there three minutes +after the explosion and there wasn't even a ravelling or a horsehair left. +This dynamite's a dam' funny thing. I wouldn't be a rock-hog for a +million!" + +"I'd rather be a rock-hog than Joe--drivin' down this hill a dozen times a +day," replied the other. + +The girl had paused again, and the two men stared at her as they were about +to pass. The explosion of Joe's dynamite could not have startled them more +than the beauty of the face that was turned to them in a quietly appealing +inquiry. + +"I am looking for a place called--Bill's Shack," she said, speaking the +Little Sister's words hesitatingly. "Can you direct me to it, please?" + +The younger of the two men looked at his companion without speaking. The +other, old enough to regard feminine beauty as a trap and an illusion, +turned aside to empty his mouth of a quid of tobacco, bent over, and +pointed under the trees. + +"Can't miss it--third tent-house on your right, with canvas striped like a +barber-pole. That phonnygraff you hear is at Bill's." + +"Thank you." + +She went on. + +Behind her, the two men stood where she had left them. They did not move. +The younger man seemed scarcely to breathe. + +"Bill's place!" he gasped then. "I've a notion to tell her. I can't +believe----" + +"Shucks!" interjected the other. + +"But I don't. She isn't that sort. She looked like a Madonna--with the +heart of her clean gone. I never saw anything so white an' so beautiful. +You call me a fool if you want to--I'm goin' on to Bill's!" + +He strode ahead, chivalry in his young and palpitating heart. Quickly the +older man was at his side, clutching his arm. + +"Come along, you cotton-head!" he cried. "You ain't old enough or big +enough in this camp to mix in with Bill. Besides," he lied, seeing the +wavering light in the youth's eyes, "I know her. She's going to the right +place." + +At Bill's place men were holding their breath and staring. They were not +unaccustomed to women. But such a one as this vision that walked calmly and +undisturbed in among them they had never seen. There were half a dozen +lounging there, smoking and listening to the phonograph, which some one now +stopped that they might hear every word that was spoken. The girl's head +was high. She was beginning to understand that it would have been less +embarrassing to have gone hungry and dusty. But she had come this far, and +she was determined to get what she wanted--if it was to be had. The colour +shone a little more vividly through the pure whiteness of her skin as she +faced Bill, leaning over his little counter. In him she recognized the +Brute. It was blazoned in his face, in the hungry, seeking look of his +eyes--in the heavy pouches and thick crinkles of his neck and cheeks. For +once Bill Quade himself was at a loss. + +"I understand that you have rooms for rent," she said unemotionally. "May I +hire one until the train leaves for Tete Jaune Cache?" + +The listeners behind her stiffened and leaned forward. One of them grinned +at Quade. This gave him the confidence he needed to offset the fearless +questioning in the blue eyes. None of them noticed a newcomer in the door. +Quade stepped from behind his shelter and faced her. + +"This way," he said, and turned to the drawn curtains beyond them. + +She followed. As the curtains closed after them a chuckling laugh broke the +silence of the on-looking group. The newcomer in the doorway emptied the +bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the breast-pocket of his flannel +shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was blond, shot a little with gray. He +was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than the girl herself, slim-waisted, +with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as they rested on the +still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray. His face was thin +and bronzed, his nose a trifle prominent. He was a man far from handsome, +and yet there was something of fascination and strength about him. He did +not belong to the Horde. Yet he might have been the force behind it, +contemptuous of the chuckling group of rough-visaged men, almost arrogant +in his posture as he eyed the curtains and waited. + +What he expected soon came. It was not the usual giggling, the usual +exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains. Quade did +not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with a sort of +exultant satisfaction. The girl preceded him. She flung the curtains aside +and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire, her blue eyes +filled with the flash of lightning. She came down the single step. Quade +followed her. He put out a hand. + +"Don't take offence, girly," he expostulated. "Look here--ain't it +reasonable to s'pose----" + +He got no farther. The man in the door had advanced, placing himself at the +girl's side. His voice was low and unexcited. + +"You have made a mistake?" he said. + +She took him in at a glance--his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his +slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes. + +"Yes, I have made a mistake--a terrible mistake!" + +"I tell you it ain't fair to take offence," Quade went on. "Now, look +here----" + +In his hand was a roll of bills. The girl did not know that a man could +strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger +struck then. There was one blow, and Quade went down limply. It was so +sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had happened. + +"I chanced to see you go in," he explained, without a tremor in his voice. +"I thought you were making a mistake. I heard you ask for shelter. If you +will come with me I will take you to a friend's." + +"If it isn't too much trouble for you, I will go," she said. "And for +that--in there--thank you!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which +faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town. It +was chiefly of canvas. Now and then a structure of logs added an appearance +of solidity to the whole. The girl did not look too closely. She knew that +they passed places in which there were long rows of cots, and that others +were devoted to trade. She noticed signs which advertised soft drinks and +cigars--always "soft drinks," which sometimes came into camp marked as +"dynamite," "salt pork," and "flour." She was conscious that every one +stared at them as they passed. She heard clearly the expressions of wonder +and curiosity of two women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in +front of a rooming-tent. She looked at the man at her side. She appreciated +his courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship. In her eyes +was a ripple of amusement. + +"This is all strange and new to me--and not at all uninteresting," she +said. "I came expecting--everything. And I am finding it. Why do they stare +at me so? Am I a curiosity?" + +"You are," he answered bluntly. "You are the most beautiful woman they have +ever seen." + +His eyes encountered hers as he spoke. He had answered her question fairly. +There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look. She had +asked for information, and he had given it. In spite of herself the girl's +lips trembled. Her colour deepened. She smiled. + +"Pardon me," she entreated. "I seldom feel like laughing, but I almost do +now. I have encountered so many curious people and have heard so many +curious things during the past twenty-four hours. You don't believe in +concealing your thoughts out here in the wilderness, do you?" + +"I haven't expressed _my_ thoughts," he corrected. "I was telling you what +_they_ think." + +"Oh-h-h--I beg your pardon again!" + +"Not at all," he answered lightly, and now his eyes were laughing frankly +into her own. "I don't mind informing you," he went on, "that I am the +biggest curiosity you will meet between this side of the mountains and the +sea. I am not accustomed to championing women. I allow them to pursue their +own course without personal interference on my part. But--I suppose it will +give you some satisfaction if I confess it--I followed you into Bill's +place because you were more than ordinarily beautiful, and because I wanted +to see fair play. I knew you were making a mistake. I knew what would +happen." + +They had passed the end of the street, and entered a little green plain +that was soft as velvet underfoot. On the farther side of this, sheltered +among the trees, were two or three tents. The man led the way toward these. + +"Now, I suppose I've spoiled it all," he went on, a touch of irony in his +voice. "It was really quite heroic of me to follow you into Bill's place, +don't you think? You probably want to tell me so, but don't quite dare. +And I should play up to my part, shouldn't I? But I cannot--not +satisfactorily. I'm really a bit disgusted with myself for having taken as +much interest in you as I have. I write books for a living. My name is John +Aldous." + +With a little cry of amazement, his companion stopped. Without knowing it, +her hand had gripped his arm. + +"You are John Aldous--who wrote 'Fair Play,' and 'Women!'" she gasped. + +"Yes," he said, amusement in his face. + +"I have read those books--and I have read your plays," she breathed, a +mysterious tremble in her voice. "You despise women!" + +"Devoutly." + +She drew a deep breath. Her hand dropped from his arm. + +"This is very, very funny," she mused, gazing off to the sun-capped peaks +of the mountains. "You have flayed women alive. You have made them want to +mob you. And yet----" + +"Millions of them read my books," he chuckled. + +"Yes--all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into his +face. "And I guess--in many ways--you have pointed out things that are +true." + +It was his turn to show surprise. + +"You believe that?" + +"I do. More than that--I have always thought that I knew your secret--the +big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal +because you know the world would laugh at you. And so--_you despise me!_" + +"Not you." + +"I am a woman." + +He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red. + +"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you +were going to leave on the Tete Jaune train. I am going to take you to a +real dinner. And now--I should let those good people know your name." + +A moment--unflinching and steady--she looked into his face. + +"It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in +fiction. Joanne Gray." + +"I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell +new-baked bread." + +As they moved on he suddenly touched her arm. She felt for a moment the +firm clasp of his fingers. There was a new light in his eyes, a glow of +enthusiasm. + +"I have it!" he cried. "You have brought it to me--the idea. I have been +wanting a name for _her_--the woman in my new book. She is to be a +tremendous surprise. I haven't found a name, until now--one that fits. I +shall call her Ladygray!" + +He felt the girl flinch. He was surprised at the sudden startled look that +shot into her eyes, the swift ebbing of the colour from her cheeks. He drew +away his hand at the strange change in her. He noticed how quickly she was +breathing--that the fingers of her white hands were clasped tensely. + +"You object," he said. + +"Not enough to keep you from using it," she replied in a low voice. "I owe +you a great deal." He noted, too, how quickly she had recovered herself. +Her head was a little higher. She looked toward the tents. "You were not +mistaken," she added. "I smell new-made bread!" + +"And I shall emphasize the first half of it--_Lady_gray," said John Aldous, +as if speaking to himself. "That diminutizes it, you might say--gives it +the touch of sentiment I want. You can imagine a lover saying 'Dear little +_Lady_gray, are you warm and comfy?' He wouldn't say Ladygray as if she +wore a coronet, would he?" + +"Smell-o'-bread--fresh bread!" sniffed Joanne Gray, as if she had not heard +him. "It's making me hungry. Will you please hurry me to it, John Aldous?" + +They were approaching the first of the three tent-houses, over which was a +crudely painted sign which read "Otto Brothers, Guides and Outfitters." It +was a large, square tent, with weather-faded red and blue stripes, and from +it came the cheerful sound of a woman's laughter. Half a dozen +trampish-looking Airedale terriers roused themselves languidly as they drew +nearer. One of them stood up and snarled. + +"They won't hurt you," assured Aldous. "They belong to Jack Bruce and +Clossen Otto--the finest bunch of grizzly dogs in the Rockies." Another +moment, and a woman had appeared in the door. "And that is Mrs. Jack Otto," +he added under his breath. "If all women were like her I wouldn't have +written the things you have read!" + +He might have added that she was Scotch. But this was not necessary. The +laughter was still in her good-humoured face. Aldous looked at his +companion, and he found her smiling back. The eyes of the two women had +already met. + +Briefly Aldous explained what had happened at Quade's, and that the young +woman was leaving on the Tete Jaune train. The good-humoured smile left +Mrs. Otto's face when he mentioned Quade. + +"I've told Jack I'd like to poison that man some day," she cried. "You poor +dear, come in, I'll get you a cup of tea." + +"Which always means dinner in the Otto camp," added Aldous. + +"I'm not so hungry, but I'm tired--so tired," he heard the girl say as she +went in with Mrs. Otto, and there was a new and strangely pathetic note in +her voice. "I want to rest--until the train goes." + +He followed them in, and stood for a moment near the door. + +"There's a room in there, my dear," said the woman, drawing back a curtain. +"Make yourself at home, and lie down on the bed until I have the tea +ready." + +When the curtain had closed behind her, John Aldous spoke in a low voice to +the woman. + +"Will you see her safely to the train, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "It leaves at +a quarter after two. I must be going." + +He felt that he had sufficiently performed his duty. He left the tent, and +paused for a moment outside to touzle affectionately the trampish heads of +the bear dogs. Then he turned away, whistling. He had gone a dozen steps +when a low voice stopped him. He turned. Joanne had come from the door. + +For one moment he stared as if something more wonderful than anything he +had ever seen had risen before him. The girl was bareheaded, and she stood +in a sun mellowed by a film of cloud. Her head was piled with lustrous +coils of gold-brown hair that her hat and veil had hidden. Never had he +looked upon such wonderful hair, crushed and crumpled back from her smooth +forehead; nor such marvellous whiteness of skin and pure blue depths of +eyes! In her he saw now everything that was strong and splendid in woman. +She was not girlishly sweet. She was not a girl. She was a woman--glorious +to look at, a soul glowing out of her eyes, a strength that thrilled him in +the quiet and beautiful mystery of her face. + +"You were going without saying good-bye," she said. "Won't you let me thank +you--a last time?" + +Her voice brought him to himself again. A moment he bent over her hand. A +moment he felt its warm, firm pressure in his own. The smile that flashed +to his lips was hidden from her as he bowed his blond-gray head. + +"Pardon me for the omission," he apologized. "Good-bye--and may good luck +go with you!" + +Their eyes met once more. With another bow he had turned, and was +continuing his way. At the door Joanne Gray looked back. He was whistling +again. His careless, easy stride was filled with a freedom that seemed to +come to her in the breath of the mountains. And then she, too, smiled +strangely as she reentered the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +If John Aldous had betrayed no visible sign of inward vanquishment he at +least was feeling its effect. For years his writings had made him the +target for a world of women, and many men. The men he had regarded with +indifferent toleration. The women were his life--the "frail and ineffective +creatures" who gave spice to his great adventure, and made his days +anything but monotonous. He was not unchivalrous. Deep down in his +heart--and this was his own secret--he did not even despise women. But he +had seen their weaknesses and their frailties as perhaps no other man had +ever seen them, and he had written of them as no other man had ever +written. This had brought him the condemnation of the host, the admiration +of the few. His own personal veneer of antagonism against woman was purely +artificial, and yet only a few had guessed it. He had built it up about him +as a sort of protection. He called himself "an adventurer in the mysteries +of feminism," and to be this successfully he had argued that he must +destroy in himself the usual heart-emotions of the sex-man and the animal. + +How far he had succeeded in this he himself did not know--until these last +moments when he had bid good-bye to Joanne Gray. He confessed that she had +found a cleft in his armour, and there was an uneasy thrill in his blood. +It was not her beauty alone that had affected him. He had trained himself +to look at a beautiful woman as he might have looked at a beautiful flower, +confident that if he went beyond the mere admiration of it he would find +only burned-out ashes. But in her he had seen something that was more than +beauty, something that for a flashing moment had set stirring every +molecule in his being. He had felt the desire to rest his hand upon her +shining hair! + +He turned off into a winding path that led into the thick poplars, +restraining an inclination to look back in the direction of the Otto camp. +He pulled out the pipe he had dropped into his shirt pocket, filled it with +fresh tobacco, and began smoking. As he smoked, his lips wore a quizzical +smile, for he was honest enough to give Joanne Gray credit for her triumph. +She had awakened a new kind of interest in him--only a passing interest, to +be sure--but a new kind for all that. The fact amused him. In a large way +he was a humourist--few guessing it, and he fully appreciated the humour of +the present situation--that he, John Aldous, touted the world over as a +woman-hater, wanted to peer out through the poplar foliage and see that +wonderful gold-brown head shining in the sun once more! + +He wandered more slowly on his way, wondering with fresh interest what his +friends, the women, would say when they read his new book. His title for it +was "Mothers." It was to be a tremendous surprise. + +Suddenly his face became serious. He faced the sound of a distant +phonograph. It was not the phonograph in Quade's place, but that of a rival +dealer in soft drinks at the end of the "street." For a moment Aldous +hesitated. Then he turned in the direction of the camp. + +Quade was bolstered up on a stool, his back against the thin partition, +when John Aldous sauntered in. There was still a groggy look in his mottled +face. His thick bulk hung a bit limply. In his heavy-lidded eyes, +under-hung by watery pouches of sin and dissipation, there was a vengeful +and beastlike glare. He was surrounded by his friends. One of them was +taking a wet cloth from his head. There were a dozen in the canvas-walled +room, all with their backs to the door, their eyes upon their fallen and +dishonoured chief. For a moment John Aldous paused in the door. The cool +and insolent smile hovered about his lips again, and little crinkles had +gathered at the corners of his eyes. + +"Did I hit you pretty hard, Bill?" he asked. + +Every head was turned toward him. Bill Quade stared, his mouth open. He +staggered to his feet, and stood dizzily. + +"You--damn you!" he cried huskily. + +Three or four of the men had already begun to move toward the stranger. +Their hands were knotted, their faces murderously dark. + +"Wait a minute, boys," warned Aldous coolly. "I've got something to say to +you--and Bill. Then eat me alive if you want to. Do you want to be square +enough to give me a word?" + +Quade had settled back sickly on his stool. The others had stopped, +waiting. The quiet and insolently confident smile had not left Aldous' +lips. + +"You'll feel better in a few minutes, Bill," he consoled. "A hard blow on +the jaw always makes you sick at the pit of the stomach. That dizziness +will pass away shortly. Meanwhile, I'm going to give you and your pals a +little verbal and visual demonstration of what you're up against, and warn +you to bait no traps for a certain young woman whom you've lately seen. +She's going on to Tete Jaune. And I know how your partner plays his game up +there. I'm not particularly anxious to butt into your affairs and the +business of this pretty bunch that's gathered about you, but I've come to +give you a friendly warning for all that. If this young woman is +embarrassed up at Tete Jaune you're going to settle with me." + +Aldous had spoken without a tremor of excitement in his voice. Not one of +the men noticed his speaking lips, his slim hands, or his careless posture +as he leaned in the door. They were looking straight into his eyes, +strangely scintillating and deadly earnest. In such a man mere bulk did not +count. + +"That much--for words," he went on. "Now I'm going to give you the visual +demonstration. I know your game, Bill. You're already planning what you're +going to do. You won't fight fair--because you never have. You've already +decided that some morning I'll turn up missing, or be dug out from under a +fall of rock, or go peacefully floating down the Athabasca. See! There's +nothing in that hand, is there?" + +He stretched out an empty hand toward them, palm up. + +"And now!" + +A twist of the wrist so swift their eyes could not follow, a metallic +click, and the startled group were staring into the black muzzle of a +menacing little automatic. + +"That's known as the sleeve trick, boys," explained Aldous with his +imperturbable smile. "It's a relic of the old gun-fighting days when the +best man was quickest. From now on, especially at night, I shall carry this +little friend of mine just inside my wristband. There are eleven shots in +it, and I shoot fairly straight. Good-day!" + +Before they had recovered from their astonishment he was gone. + +He did not follow the road along which Joanne had come a short time before, +but turned again into the winding trail that led riverward through the +poplars. Where before he had been a little amused at himself, he was now +more seriously disgusted. He was not afraid of Quade, who was perhaps the +most dangerous man along the line of rail. Neither was he afraid of the +lawless men who worked his ends. But he knew that he had made powerful +enemies, and all because of an unknown woman whom he had never seen until +half an hour before. It was this that disturbed his equanimity--the _woman_ +of it, and the knowledge that his interference had been unsolicited and +probably unnecessary. And now that he had gone this far he found it not +easy to recover his balance. Who was this Joanne Gray? he asked himself. +She was not ordinary--like the hundred other women who had gone on ahead of +her to Tete Jaune Cache. If she had been that, he would soon have been in +his little shack on the shore of the river, hard at work. He had planned +work for himself that afternoon, and he was nettled to discover that his +enthusiasm for the grand finale of a certain situation in his novel was +gone. Yet for this he did not blame her. He was the fool. Quade and his +friends would make him feel that sooner or later. + +His trail led him to a partly dry muskeg bottom. Beyond this was a thicker +growth of timber, mostly spruce and cedar, from behind which came the +rushing sound of water. A few moments more and he stood with the wide +tumult of the Athabasca at his feet. He had chosen this spot for his little +cabin because the river ran wild here among the rocks, and because +pack-outfits going into the southward mountains could not disturb him by +fording at this point. Across the river rose the steep embankments that +shut in Buffalo Prairie, and still beyond that the mountains, thick with +timber rising billow on billow until trees looked like twigs, with gray +rock and glistening snow shouldering the clouds above the last purple line. +The cabin in which he had lived and worked for many weeks faced the river +and the distant Saw Tooth Range, and was partly hidden in a clump of +jack-pines. He opened the door and entered. Through the window to the south +and west he could see the white face of Mount Geikie, and forty miles away +in that wilderness of peaks, the sombre frown of Hardesty; through it the +sun came now, flooding his work as he had left it. The last page of +manuscript on which he had been working was in his typewriter. He sat down +to begin where he had left off in that pivotal situation in his +masterpiece. + +He read and re-read the last two or three pages of the manuscript, +struggling to pick up the threads where he had dropped them. With each +reading he became more convinced that his work for that afternoon was +spoiled. And by whom? By _what?_ A little fiercely he packed his pipe with +fresh tobacco. Then he leaned back, lighted it, and laughed. More and more +as the minutes passed he permitted himself to think of the strange young +woman whose beauty and personality had literally projected themselves into +his workshop. He marvelled at the crudity of the questions which he asked +himself, and yet he persisted in asking them. Who was she? What could be +her mission at Tete Jaune Cache? She had repeated to him what she had said +to the girl in the coach--that at Tete Jaune she had no friends. Beyond +that, and her name, she had offered no enlightenment. + +In the brief space that he had been with her he had mentally tabulated her +age as twenty-eight--no older. Her beauty alone, the purity of her eyes, +the freshness of her lips, and the slender girlishness of her figure, might +have made him say twenty, but with those things he had found the maturer +poise of the woman. It had been a flashlight picture, but one that he was +sure of. + +Several times during the next hour he turned to his work, and at last gave +up his efforts entirely. From a peg in the wall he took down a little +rifle. He had found it convenient to do much of his own cooking, and he had +broken a few laws. The partridges were out of season, but temptingly fat +and tender. With a brace of young broilers in mind for supper, he left the +cabin and followed the narrow foot-trail up the river. He hunted for half +an hour before he stirred a covey of birds. Two of these he shot. +Concealing his meat and his gun near the trail he continued toward the ford +half a mile farther up, wondering if Stevens, who was due to cross that +day, had got his outfit over. Not until then did he look at his watch. He +was surprised to find that the Tete Jaune train had been gone three +quarters of an hour. For some unaccountable reason he felt easier. He went +on, whistling. + +At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting +one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation. + +"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up. "You never can tell what +it's going to do overnight. Look there! Would you try to cross?" + +"I wouldn't," replied Aldous. "It's a foot higher than yesterday. I +wouldn't take the chance." + +"Not with two guides, a cook, and a horse-wrangler on your pay-roll--and a +hospital bill as big as Geikie staring you in the face?" argued Stevens, +who had been sick for three months. "I guess you'd pretty near take a +chance. I've a notion to." + +"I wouldn't," repeated Aldous. + +"But I've lost two days already, and I'm taking that bunch of sightseers +out for a lump sum, guaranteeing 'em so many days on the trail. This ain't +what you might call _on the trail_. They don't expect to pay for this +delay, and that outfit back in the bush is costing me thirty dollars a day. +We can get the dunnage and ourselves over in the flat-boat. It'll make our +arms crack--but we can do it. I've got twenty-seven horses. I've a notion +to chase 'em in. The river won't be any lower to-morrow." + +"But you may be a few horses ahead." + +Stevens bit off a chunk of tobacco and sat down. For a few moments he +looked at the muddy flood with an ugly eye. Then he chuckled, and grinned. + +"Came through the camp half an hour ago," he said. "Hear you cleaned up on +Bill Quade." + +"A bit," said Aldous. + +Stevens rolled his quid and spat into the water slushing at his feet. + +"Guess I saw the woman when she got off the train," he went on. "She +dropped something. I picked it up, but she was so darned pretty as she +stood there looking about I didn't dare go up an' give it to her. If it had +been worth anything I'd screwed up my courage. But it wasn't--so I just +gawped like the others. It was a piece of paper. Mebby you'd like it as a +souvenir, seein' as you laid out Quade for her." + +As he spoke, Stevens fished a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and +gave it to his companion. Aldous had sat down beside him. He smoothed the +page out on his knee. There was no writing on it, but it was crowded thick +with figures, as if the maker of the numerals had been doing some problem +in mathematics. The chief thing that interested him was that wherever +monetary symbols were used it was the "pound" and not the "dollar" sign. +The totals of certain columns were rather startling. + +"Guess she's a millionaire if that's her own money she's been figgering," +said Stevens. "Notice that figger there!" He pointed with a stubby +forefinger. "Pretty near a billion, ain't it?" + +"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," said Aldous. + +He was thinking of the "pound" sign. She had not looked like the +Englishwomen he had met. He folded the slip of paper and put it in his +pocket. + +Stevens eyed him seriously. + +"I was coming over to give you a bit of advice before I left for the +Maligne Lake country," he said. "You'd better move. Quade won't want you +around after this. Besides----" + +"What?" + +"My kid heard something," continued the packer, edging nearer. "You was +mighty good to the kid when I was down an' out, Aldous. I ought to tell +you. It wasn't an hour ago the kid was behind the tent an' he heard Quade +and Slim Barker talking. So far as I can find from the kid, Quade has gone +nutty over her. He's ravin'. He told Slim that he'd give ten thousand +dollars to get her in his hands. What sent the boy down to me was Quade +tellin' Slim that he'd get _you_ first. He told Slim to go on to Tete +Jaune--follow the girl!" + +"The deuce you say!" cried Aldous, clutching the other's arm suddenly. +"He's done that?" + +"That's what the kid says." + +Aldous rose to his feet slowly. The careless smile was playing about his +mouth again. A few men had learned that in those moments John Aldous was +dangerous. + +"The kid is undoubtedly right," he said, looking down at Stevens. "But I am +quite sure the young woman is capable of taking care of herself. Quade has +a tremendous amount of nerve, setting Slim to follow her, hasn't he? Slim +may run up against a husband or a brother." + +Stevens haunched his shoulders. + +"It's not the woman I'm thinking about. It's you. I'd sure change my +location." + +"Why wouldn't it be just as well if I told the police of his threat?" asked +Aldous, looking across the river with a glimmer of humour in his eyes. + +"Oh, hell!" was the packer's rejoinder. + +Slowly he unwound his long legs and rose to his feet. + +"Take my advice--move!" he said. "As for me, I'm going to cross that cussed +river this afternoon or know the reason why." + +He stalked away in the direction of his outfit, chewing viciously at his +quid. For a few moments Aldous stood undecided. He would liked to have +joined the half-dozen men he saw lounging restfully a distance beyond the +grazing ponies. But Stevens had made him acutely aware of a new danger. He +was thinking of his cabin--and the priceless achievement of his last months +of work, his manuscript. If Quade should destroy that---- + +He clenched his hands and walked swiftly toward his camp. To "burn out" an +enemy was one of Quade's favourite methods of retaliation. He had heard +this. He also knew that Quade's work was done so cleverly that the police +had been unable to call him to account. + +Quade's status had interested Aldous from the beginning. He had discovered +that Quade and Culver Rann, his partner at Tete Jaune, were forces to be +reckoned with even by the "powers" along the line of rail. They were the +two chiefs of the "underground," the men who controlled the most dangerous +element from Miette to Fort George. He had once seen Culver Rann, a quiet, +keen-eyed, immaculately groomed man of forty--the cleverest scoundrel that +had ever drifted into the Canadian west. He had been told that Rann was +really the brain of the combination, and that the two had picked up a +quarter of a million in various ways. But it was Quade with whom he had to +deal now, and he began to thank Stevens for his warning. He was filled with +a sense of relief when he reached his cabin and found it as he had left +it. He always made a carbon copy of his work. This copy he now put into a +waterproof tin box, and the box he concealed under a log a short distance +back in the bush. + +"Now go ahead, Quade," he laughed to himself, a curious, almost exultant +ring in his voice. "I haven't had any real excitement for so long I can't +remember, and if you start the fun there's going to _be_ fun!" + +He returned to his birds, perched himself behind a bush at the river's +edge, and began skinning them. He had almost finished when he heard hoarse +shouts from up the river. From his position he could see the stream a +hundred yards below the ford. Stevens had driven in his horses. He could +see them breasting the first sweep of the current, their heads held high, +struggling for the opposite shore. He rose, dropped his birds, and stared. + +"Good God, what a fool!" he gasped. + +He saw the tragedy almost before it had begun. Still three hundred yards +below the swimming horses was the gravelly bar which they must reach on the +opposite side. He noted the grayish strip of smooth water that marked the +end of the dead-line. Three or four of the stronger animals were forging +steadily toward this. The others grouped close together, almost motionless +in their last tremendous fight, were left farther and farther behind. Then +came the break. A mare and her yearling colt had gone in with the bunch. +Aldous saw the colt, with its small head and shoulders high out of the +water, sweep down like a chip with the current. A cold chill ran through +him as he heard the whinneying scream of the mother--a warning cry that +held for him the pathos and the despair of a creature that was human. He +knew what it meant. "Wait--I'm coming--I'm coming!" was in that cry. He saw +the mare give up and follow resistlessly with the deadly current, her eyes +upon her colt. The heads behind her wavered, then turned, and in another +moment the herd was sweeping down to its destruction. + +Aldous felt like turning his head. But the spectacle fascinated him, and he +looked. He did not think of Stevens and his loss as the first of the herd +plunged in among the rocks. He stood with white face and clenched hands, +leaning over the water boiling at his feet, cursing softly in his +helplessness. To him came the last terrible cries of the perishing animals. +He saw head after head go under. Out of the white spume of a great rock +against which the flood split itself with the force of an avalanche he saw +one horse pitched bodily, as if thrown from a huge catapault. The last +animal had disappeared when chance turned his eyes upstream and close in to +shore. Here flowed a steady current free of rock, and down this--head and +shoulders still high out of the water--came the colt! What miracle had +saved the little fellow thus far Aldous did not stop to ask. Fifty yards +below it would meet the fate of the others. Half that distance in the +direction of the maelstrom below was the dead trunk of a fallen spruce +overhanging the water for fifteen or twenty feet. In a flash Aldous was +racing toward it. He climbed out on it, leaned far over, and reached down. +His hand touched the water. In the grim excitement of rescue he forgot his +own peril. There was one chance in twenty that the colt would come within +his reach, and it did. He made a single lunge and caught it by the ear. For +a moment after that his heart turned sick. Under the added strain the dead +spruce sagged down with a warning crack. But it held, and Aldous hung to +his grip on the ear. Foot by foot he wormed his way back, until at last he +had dragged the little animal ashore. + +And then a voice spoke behind him, a voice that he would have recognized +among ten thousand, low, sweet, thrilling. + +"That was splendid, John Aldous!" it said. "If I were a man I would want to +be a man like you!" + +He turned. A few steps from him stood Joanne Gray. Her face was as white as +the bit of lace at her throat. Her lips were colourless, and her bosom rose +and fell swiftly. He knew that she, too, had witnessed the tragedy. And the +eyes that looked at him were glorious. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +To John Aldous Joanne's appearance at this moment was like an anti-climax. +It plunged him headlong for a single moment into what he believed to be the +absurdity of a situation. He had a quick mental picture of himself out on +the dead spruce, performing a bit of mock-heroism by dragging in a +half-drowned colt by one ear. In another instant this had passed, and he +was wondering why Joanne Gray was not on her way to Tete Jaune. + +"It was splendid!" she was saying again, her eyes glowing at him. "I know +men who would not have risked that for a human!" + +"Perhaps they would have been showing good judgment," replied Aldous. + +He noticed now that she was holding with one hand the end of a long slender +sapling which a week or two before he had cut and trimmed for a fish-pole. +He nodded toward it, a half-cynical smile on his lips. + +"Were you going to fish me out--or the colt?" he asked. + +"You," she replied. "I thought you were in danger." And then she added, "I +suppose you are deeply grateful that fate did not compel you to be saved by +a woman." + +"Not at all. If the spruce had snapped, I would have caught at the end of +your sapling like any drowning rat--or man. Allow me to thank you." + +She had stepped down to the level strip of sand on which the colt was +weakly struggling to rise to its feet. She was breathing quickly. Her face +was still pale. She was without a hat, and as she bent for a moment over +the colt Aldous felt his eyes drawn irresistibly to the soft thick coils of +her hair, a glory of colour that made him think of the lustrous brown of a +ripe wintelberry. She looked up suddenly and caught his eyes upon her. + +"I came quite by accident," she explained quickly. "I wanted to be alone, +and Mrs. Otto said this path would lead to the river. When I saw you I was +about to turn back. And then I saw the other--the horses coming down the +stream. It was terrible. Are they all drowned?" + +"All that you saw. It wasn't a pretty sight, was it?" There was a +suggestive inquiry in his voice as he added, "If you had gone to Tete Jaune +you would have missed the unpleasantness of the spectacle." + +"I would have gone, but something happened. They say it was a cave-in, a +slide--something like that. The train cannot go on until to-morrow." + +"And you are to stay with the Ottos?" + +She nodded. + +Quick as a flash she had seemed to read his thoughts. + +"I am sorry," she added, before he could speak. "I can see that I have +annoyed you. I have literally projected myself into your work, and I am +afraid that I have caused you trouble. Mrs. Otto has told me of this man +they call Quade. She says he is dangerous. And I have made him your enemy." + +"I am, not afraid of Quade. The incident was nothing more than an agreeable +interruption to what was becoming a rather monotonous existence up here. I +have always believed, you know, that a certain amount of physical +excitement is good oil for our mental machinery. That, perhaps, was why you +caught me hauling at His Coltship's ear." + +He had spoken stiffly. There was a hard note in his voice, a suggestion of +something that was displeasing in his forced laugh. He knew that in these +moments he was fighting against his inner self--against his desire to tell +her how glad he was that something had held back the Tete Jaune train, and +how wonderful her hair looked in the afternoon sun. He was struggling to +keep himself behind the barriers he had built up and so long maintained in +his writings. And yet, as he looked, he felt something crumbling into +ruins. He knew that he had hurt her. The hardness of his words, the +coldness of his smile, his apparently utter indifference to her had sent +something that was almost like a quick, physical pain into her eyes. He +drew a step nearer, so that he caught the soft contour of her cheek. Joanne +Gray heard him, and lowered her head slightly, so that he could not see. +She was a moment too late. On her cheek Aldous saw a single creeping +drop--a tear. + +In an instant he was at her side. With a quick movement she brushed the +tear away before she faced him. + +"I've hurt you," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I've hurt you, +and God knows I'm a brute for doing it. I've treated you as badly as +Quade--only in a different way. I know how I've made you feel--that you've +been a nuisance, and have got me into trouble, and that I don't want to +have anything more to do with you. Have I made you feel that?" + +"I am afraid--you have." + +He reached out a hand, and almost involuntarily her own came to it. She saw +the change in his face, regret, pain, and then that slow-coming, wonderful +laughter in his eyes. + +"That's just how I set out to make you feel," he confessed, the warmth of +her hand sending a thrill through him. "I might as well be frank, don't you +think? Until you came I had but one desire, and that was to finish my book. +I had planned great work for to-day. And you spoiled it. I couldn't get you +out of my mind. And it made me--ugly." + +"And that was--all?" she whispered, a tense waiting in her eyes. "You +didn't think----" + +"What Quade thought," he bit in sharply. The grip of his fingers hurt her +hand. "No, not that. My God, I didn't make you think _that?_" + +"I'm a stranger--and they say women don't go to Tete Jaune alone," she +answered doubtfully. + +"That's true, they don't--not as a general rule. Especially women like you. +You're alone, a stranger, and too beautiful. I don't say that to flatter +you. You are beautiful, and you undoubtedly know it. To let you go on alone +and unprotected among three or four thousand men like most of those up +there would be a crime. And the women, too--the Little Sisters. They'd +blast you. If you had a husband, a brother or a father waiting for you it +would be different. But you've told me you haven't. You have made me change +my mind about my book. You are of more interest to me just now than that. +Will you believe me? Will you let me be a friend, if you need a friend?" + +To Aldous it seemed that she drew herself up a little proudly. For a moment +she seemed taller. A rose-flush of colour spread over her cheeks. She drew +her hand from him. And yet, as she looked at him, he could see that she was +glad. + +"Yes, I believe you," she said. "But I must not accept your offer of +friendship. You have done more for me now than I can ever repay. Friendship +means service, and to serve me would spoil your plans, for you are in great +haste to complete your book." + +"If you mean that you need my assistance, the book can wait." + +"I shouldn't have said that," she cut in quickly, her lips tightening +slightly. "It was utterly absurd of me to hint that I might require +assistance--that I cannot take care of myself. But I shall be proud of the +friendship of John Aldous." + +"Yes, you can take care of yourself, Ladygray," said Aldous softly, looking +into her eyes and yet speaking as if to himself. "That is why you have +broken so curiously into my life. It's _that_--and not your beauty. I have +known beautiful women before. But they were--just women, frail things that +might snap under stress. I have always thought there is only one woman in +ten thousand who would not do that--under certain conditions. I believe you +are that one in ten thousand. You can go on to Tete Jaune alone. You can go +anywhere alone--and care for yourself." + +He was looking at her so strangely that she held her breath, her lips +parted, the flush in her cheeks deepening. + +"And the strangest part of it all is that I have always known you away back +in my imagination," he went on. "You have lived there, and have troubled +me. I could not construct you perfectly. It is almost inconceivable that +you should have borne the same name--Joanne. Joanne, of 'Fair Play.'" + +She gave a little gasp. + +"Joanne was--terrible," she cried. "She was bad--bad to the heart and soul +of her!" + +"She was splendid," replied Aldous, without a change in his quiet voice. +"She was splendid--but bad. I racked myself to find a soul for her, and I +failed. And yet she was splendid. It was my crime--not hers--that she +lacked a soul. She would have been my ideal, but I spoiled her. And by +spoiling her I sold half a million copies of the book. I did not do it +purposely. I would have given her a soul if I could have found one. She +went her way." + +"And you compare me to--_her?_" + +"Yes," said Aldous deliberately. "You are that Joanne. But you possess what +I could not give to her. Joanne of 'Fair Play' was splendid without a soul. +You have what she lacked. You may not understand, but you have come to +perfect what I only partly created." + +The colour had slowly ebbed from Joanne's face. There was a mysterious +darkness in her eyes. + +"If you were not John Aldous I would--strike you," she said. "As it +is--yes--I want you as a friend." + +She held out her hand. For a moment he felt its warmth again in his own. +He bowed over it. Her eyes rested steadily on his blond head, and again she +noted the sprinkle of premature gray in his hair. For a second time she +felt almost overwhelmingly the mysterious strength of this man. Perhaps +each took three breaths before John Aldous raised his head. In that time +something wonderful and complete passed between them. Neither could have +told the other what it was. When their eyes met again, it was in their +faces. + +"I have planned to have supper in my cabin to-night," said Aldous, breaking +the tension of that first moment. "Won't you be my guest, Ladygray?" + +"Mrs. Otto----" she began. + +"I will go to her at once and explain that you are going to eat partridges +with me," he interrupted. "Come--let me show you into my workshop and +home." + +He led her to the cabin and into its one big room. + +"You will make yourself at home while I am gone, won't you?" he invited. +"If it will give you any pleasure you may peel a few potatoes. I won't be +gone ten minutes." + +Not waiting for any protest she might have, Aldous slipped back through the +door and took the path up to the Ottos'. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +As soon as he had passed from the view of the cabin door Aldous shortened +his pace. He knew that never in his life had he needed to readjust himself +more than at the present moment. A quarter of an hour had seen a complete +and miraculous revolution within him. It was a change so unusual and +apparently so impossible that he could not grasp the situation and the fact +all at once. But the truth of it swept over him more and more swiftly as he +made his way along the dark, narrow trail that led up to the Miette Plain. +It was something that not only amazed and thrilled him. First--as in all +things--he saw the humour of it. He, John Aldous of all men, had utterly +obliterated himself, and for a _woman_. He had even gone so far as to offer +the sacrifice of his most important work. Frankly he had told Joanne that +she interested him more just now than his book. Again he repeated to +himself that it had not been a surrender--but an obliteration. With a pair +of lovely eyes looking quietly into him, he had wiped the slate clean of +the things he had preached for ten years and the laws he had made for +himself. And as he came in sight of the big Otto tent, he found himself +smiling, his breath coming quickly, strange voices singing within him. + +He stopped to load and light his pipe before he faced Mrs. Otto, and he +clouded himself in as much smoke as possible while he explained to her +that he had almost forced Joanne to stop at his cabin and eat partridges +with him. He learned that the Tete Jaune train could not go on until the +next day, and after Mrs. Otto had made him take a loaf of fresh bread and a +can of home-made marmalade as a contribution to their feast, he turned back +toward the cabin, trying to whistle in his old careless way. + +The questions he had first asked himself about Joanne forced themselves +back upon him now with deeper import. Almost unconsciously he had revealed +himself to her. He had spread open for her eyes and understanding the page +which he had so long hidden. He had as much as confessed to her that she +had come to change him--to complete what he had only half created. It had +been an almost inconceivable and daring confession, and he believed that +she understood him. More than that, she had read about him. She had read +his books. She knew John Aldous--the man. + +But what did he know about her beyond the fact that her name was Joanne +Gray, and that the on-sweeping Horde had brought her into his life as +mysteriously as a storm might have flung him a bit of down from a swan's +breast? Where had she come from? And why was she going to Tete Jaune? It +must be some important motive was taking her to a place like Tete Jaune, +the rail-end, a place of several thousand men, with its crude muscle and +brawn and the seven passions of man. It was an impossible place for a young +and beautiful woman unprotected. If Joanne had known any one among the +engineers or contractors, or had she possessed a letter of introduction to +them, the tense lines would not have gathered so deeply about the corners +of Aldous' mouth. But these men whose brains were behind the Horde--the +engineers and the contractors--knew what women alone and unprotected meant +at Tete Jaune. Such women floated in with the Horde. And Joanne was going +in with the Horde. There lay the peril--and the mystery of it. + +So engrossed was Aldous in his thoughts that he had come very quietly to +the cabin door. It was Joanne's voice that roused him. Sweet and low she +was singing a few lines from a song which he had never heard. + +She stopped when Aldous appeared at the door. It seemed to him that her +eyes were a deeper, more wonderful blue as she looked up at him, and +smiled. She had found a towel for an apron, and was peeling potatoes. + +"You will have some unusual excuses to make very soon," she greeted him. +"We had a visitor while you were gone. I was washing the potatoes when I +looked up to find a pair of the fiercest, reddest moustaches I have ever +seen, ornamenting the doorway. The man had two eyes that seemed about to +fall out when he saw me. He popped away like a rabbit--and--and--there's +something he left behind in his haste!" + +Joanne's eyes were flooded with laughter as she nodded at the door. On the +sill was a huge quid of tobacco. + +"Stevens!" Aldous chuckled. "God bless my soul, if you frightened him into +giving up a quid of tobacco like that you sure _did_ startle him some!" He +kicked Stevens' lost property out with the toe of his boot and turned to +Joanne, showing her the fresh bread and marmalade. "Mrs. Otto sent these to +you," he said. "And the train won't leave until to-morrow." + +In her silence he pulled a chair in front of her, sat down close, and +thrust the point of his hunting knife into one of the two remaining +potatoes. + +"And when it does go I'm going with you," he added. + +He expected this announcement would have some effect on her. As she jumped +up with the pan of potatoes, leaving the one still speared on the end of +his knife, he caught only the corner of a bewitching smile. + +"You still believe that I will be unable to take care of myself up at this +terrible Tete Jaune?" she asked, bending for a moment over the table. "Do +you?" + +"No. You can care for yourself anywhere, Ladygray," he repeated. "But I am +quite sure that it will be less troublesome for me to see that no insults +are offered you than for you to resent those insults when they come. Tete +Jaune is full of Quades," he added. + +The smile was gone from her face when she turned to him. Her blue eyes were +filled with a tense anxiety. + +"I had almost forgotten that man," she whispered. "And you mean that you +would fight for me--again?" + +"A thousand times." + +The colour grew deeper in her cheeks. "I read something about you once that +I have never forgotten, John Aldous," she said. "It was after you returned +from Thibet. It said that you were largely made up of two emotions--your +contempt for woman and your love of adventure; that it would be impossible +for you not to see a flaw in one, and that for the other--physical +excitement--you would go to the ends of the earth. Perhaps it is this--your +desire for adventure--that makes you want to go with me to Tete Jaune?" + +"I am beginning to believe that it will be the greatest adventure of my +life," he replied, and something in his quiet voice held her silent. He +rose to his feet, and stood before her. "It is already the Great +Adventure," he went on. "I feel it. And I am the one to judge. Until to-day +I would have staked my life that no power could have wrung from me the +confession I am going to make to you voluntarily. I have laughed at the +opinion the world has held of me. To me it has all been a colossal joke. I +have enjoyed the hundreds of columns aimed at me by excited women through +the press. They have all asked the same question: Why do you not write of +the good things in women instead of always the bad? I have never given them +an answer. But I answer you now--here. I have not picked upon the +weaknesses of women because I despise them. Those weaknesses--the +destroying frailties of womankind--I have driven over rough-shod through +the pages of my books because I have always believed that Woman was the one +thing which God came nearest to creating _perfect_. I believe they should +be perfect. And because they have not quite that perfection which should be +theirs I have driven the cold facts home as hard as I could. I have been a +fool and an iconoclast instead of a builder. This confession to you is +proof that you have brought me face to face with the greatest adventure of +all." + +The colour in her cheeks had centred in two bright spots. Her lips formed +words which came slowly, strangely. + +"I guess--I understand," she said. "Perhaps I, too, would have been that +kind of an iconoclast--if I could have put the things I have thought into +written words." She drew a deep breath, and went on, her eyes full upon +him, speaking as if out of a dream. "The Great Adventure--for you. Yes; and +perhaps for both." + +Her hands were drawn tightly to her breast. Something about her as she +stood there, her back to the table, drew John Aldous to her side, forced +the question from his lips: "Tell me, Ladygray--why are you going to Tete +Jaune?" + +In that same strange way, as if her lips were framing words beyond their +power to control, she answered: + +"I am going--to find--my husband." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Silent, his head bowed a little, John Aldous stood before her after those +last words. A slight noise outside gave him the pretext to turn to the +door. She was going to Tete Jaune--to find her husband! He had not expected +that. For a breath, as he looked out toward the bush, his mind was in a +strange daze. A dozen times she had given him to understand there was no +husband, father, or brother waiting for her at the rail-end. She had told +him that she was alone--without friends. And now, like a confession, those +words had come strangely from her lips. + +What he had heard was one of Otto's pack-horses coming down to drink. He +turned toward her again. + +Joanne stood with her back still to the table. She had slipped a hand into +the front of her dress and had drawn forth a long thick envelope. As she +opened it, Aldous saw that it contained banknotes. From among these she +picked out a bit of paper and offered it to him. + +"That will explain--partly," she said. + +It was a newspaper clipping, worn and faded, with a date two years old. It +had apparently been cut from an English paper, and told briefly of the +tragic death of Mortimer FitzHugh, son of a prominent Devonshire family, +who had lost his life while on a hunting trip in the British Columbia +Wilds. + +"He was my husband," said Joanne, as Aldous finished. "Until six months ago +I had no reason to believe that the statement in the paper was not true. +Then--an acquaintance came out here hunting. He returned with a strange +story. He declared that he had seen Mr. FitzHugh alive. Now you know why I +am here. I had not meant to tell you. It places me in a light which I do +not think that I can explain away--just now. I have come to prove or +disprove his death. If he is alive----" + +For the first time she betrayed the struggle she was making against some +powerful emotion which she was fighting to repress. Her face had paled. She +stopped herself with a quick breath, as if knowing that she had already +gone too far. + +"I guess I understand," said Aldous. "For some reason your anxiety is not +that you will find him dead, Ladygray, but that you may find him alive." + +"Yes--yes, that is it. But you must not urge me farther. It is a terrible +thing to say. You will think I am not a woman, but a fiend. And I am your +guest. You have invited me to supper. And--the potatoes are ready, and +there is no fire!" + +She had forced a smile back to her lips. John Aldous whirled toward the +door. + +"I will have the partridges in two seconds!" he cried. "I dropped them when +the horses went through the rapids." + +The oppressive and crushing effect of Joanne's first mention of a husband +was gone. He made no effort to explain or analyze the two sudden changes +that swept over him. He accepted them as facts, and that was all. Where a +few moments before there had been the leaden grip of something that seemed +to be physically choking him, there was now again the strange buoyancy with +which he had gone to the Otto tent. He began to whistle as he went to the +river's edge. He was whistling when he returned, the two birds in his hand. +Joanne was waiting for him in the door. Again her face was a faintly tinted +vision of tranquil loveliness; her eyes were again like the wonderful blue +pools over the sunlit mountains. She smiled as he came up. He was +amazed--not that she had recovered so completely from the emotional +excitement that had racked her, but because she betrayed in no way a sign +of grief--of suspense or of anxiety. A few minutes ago he had heard her +singing. He could almost believe that her lips might break into song again +as she stood there. + +From that moment until the sun sank behind the mountains and gray shadows +began to creep in where the light had been, there was no other reference to +the things that had happened or the things that had been said since +Joanne's arrival. For the first time in years John Aldous completely forgot +his work. He was lost in Joanne. With the tremendous reaction that was +working out in him she became more and more wonderful to him with each +breath that he drew. He made no effort to control the change that was +sweeping through him. His one effort was to keep it from being too apparent +to her. + +The way in which Joanne had taken his invitation was as delightful as it +was new to him. She had become both guest and hostess. With her lovely arms +bared halfway to the shoulders she rolled out a batch of biscuits. "Hot +biscuits go so well with marmalade," she told him. He built a fire. Beyond +that, and bringing in the water, she gave him to understand that his duties +were at an end, and that he could smoke while she prepared the supper. With +the beginning of dusk he closed the cabin door that he might have an excuse +for lighting the big hanging lamp a little earlier. He had imagined how its +warm glow would flood down upon the thick soft coils of her shining hair. + +Every fibre in him throbbed with a keen and exquisite satisfaction as he +sat down opposite her. During the meal he looked into the quiet, velvety +blue of her eyes a hundred times. He found it a delightful sensation to +talk to her and look into those eyes at the same time. He told her more +about himself than he had ever told another soul. It was she who spoke +first of the manuscript upon which he was working. He had spoken of certain +adventures that had led up to the writing of one of his books. + +"And this last book you are writing, which you call 'Mothers,'" she said. +"Is it to be like 'Fair Play?'" + +"It was to have been the last of the trilogy. But it won't be now, +Ladygray. I've changed my mind." + +"But it is so nearly finished, you say?" + +"I would have completed it this week. I was rushing it to an end at fever +heat when--you came." + +He saw the troubled look in her eyes, and hastened to add: + +"Let us not talk about that manuscript, Ladygray. Some day I will let you +read it, and then you will understand why your coming has not hurt it. At +first I was unreasonably disturbed because I thought that I must finish it +within a week from to-day. I start out on a new adventure then--a strange +adventure, into the North." + +"That means--the wild country?" she asked. "Up there in the North--there +are no people?" + +"An occasional Indian, perhaps a prospector now and then," he said. "Last +year I travelled a hundred and twenty-seven days without seeing a human +face except that of my Cree companion." + +She had leaned a little over the table, and was looking at him intently, +her eyes shining. + +"That is why I have understood you, and read between the printed lines in +your books," she said. "If I had been a man, I would have been a great deal +like you. I love those things--loneliness, emptiness, the great spaces +where you hear only the whisperings of the winds and the fall of no other +feet but your own. Oh, I should have been a man! It was born in me. It was +a part of me. And I loved it--loved it." + +A poignant grief had shot into her eyes. Her voice broke almost in a sob. +Amazed, he looked at her in silence across the table. + +"You have lived that life, Ladygray?" he said after a moment. "You have +seen it?" + +"Yes," she nodded, clasping and unclasping her slim white hands. "For years +and years, perhaps even more than you, John Aldous! I was born in it. And +it was my life for a long time--until my father died." She paused, and he +saw her struggling to subdue the quivering throb in her throat. "We were +inseparable," she went on, her voice becoming suddenly strange and quiet. +"He was father, mother--everything to me. It was too wonderful. Together +we hunted out the mysteries and the strange things in the out-of-the-way +places of the earth. It was his passion. He had given birth to it in me. I +was always with him, everywhere. And then he died, soon after his discovery +of that wonderful buried city of Mindano, in the heart of Africa. Perhaps +you have read----" + +"Good God," breathed Aldous, so low that his voice did not rise above a +whisper. "Joanne--Ladygray--you are not speaking of Daniel Gray--Sir Daniel +Gray, the Egyptologist, the antiquarian who uncovered the secrets of an +ancient and wonderful civilization in the heart of darkest Africa?" + +"Yes." + +"And you--are his daughter?" + +She bowed her head. + +Like one in a dream John Aldous rose from his chair and went to her. He +seized her hands and drew her up so that they stood face to face. Again +that strange and beautiful calmness filled her eyes. + +"Our trails have strangely crossed, Lady Joanne," he said. "They have been +crossing--for years. While Sir Daniel was at Murja, on the eve of his great +discovery, I was at St. Louis on the Senegal coast. I slept in that little +Cape Verde hotel, in the low whitewashed room overlooking the sea. The +proprietor told me that Sir Daniel had occupied it before me, and I found a +broken fountain pen in the drawer of that sickly black teakwood desk, with +the carved serpent's head. And I was at Gampola at another time, headed for +the interior of Ceylon, when I learned that I was travelling again one of +Sir Daniel's trails. And you were with him!" + +"Always," said Joanne. + +For a few tense moments they had looked steadily into each other's eyes. +Swiftly, strangely, the world was bridging itself for them. Their minds +swept back swiftly as the fire in a thunder-sky. They were no longer +strangers. They were no longer friends of a day. The grip of Aldous' hands +tightened. A hundred things sprang to his lips. Before he could speak, he +saw a sudden, startled change leap into Joanne's face. She had turned her +face a little, so that she was looking toward the window. A frightened cry +broke from her lips. Aldous whirled about. There was nothing there. He +looked at Joanne again. She was white and trembling. Her hands were +clutched at her breast. Her eyes, big and dark and staring, were still +fixed on the window. + +"That man!" she panted. "His face was there--against the glass--like a +devil's!" + +"Quade?" + +"Yes." + +She caught at his arm as he sprang toward the door. + +"Stop!" she cried. "You mustn't go out----" + +For a moment he turned at the door. He was as she had seen him in Quade's +place, terribly cool, a strange, quiet smile on his lips. His eyes were +gray, smiling steel. + +"Close the door after me and lock it until I return," he said. "You are the +first woman guest I ever had, Ladygray. I cannot allow you to be insulted!" + +As he went out she saw him slip something from his pocket. She caught the +glitter of it in the lamp-glow. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade. He ran with the quickness +of a hare around the end of the cabin, past the window, and then stopped to +listen, his automatic in his hand, his eye piercing the gloom for some +moving shadow. He had not counted on an instant's hesitation. He would +shoot Quade, for he knew why the mottled beast had been at the window. +Stevens' boy had been right. Quade was after Joanne. His ugly soul was +disrupted with a desire to possess her, and Aldous knew that when roused by +passion he was more like a devil-fish than a man--a creeping, slimy, +night-seeking creature who had not only the power of the underworld back of +him, but wealth as well. He did not think of him as a man as he stood +listening, but as a beast. He was ready to shoot. But he saw nothing. He +heard no sound that could have been made by a stumbling foot or a moving +body. An hour later, the moon would have been up, but it was dark now +except for the stars. He heard the hoot of an owl a hundred yards away. Out +in the river something splashed. From the timber beyond Buffalo Prairie +came the yapping bark of a coyote. For five minutes he stood as silent as +one of the rocks behind him. He realized that to go on--to seek blindly for +Quade in the darkness, would be folly. He went back, tapped at the door, +and reentered the cabin when Joanne threw back the lock. + +She was still pale. Her eyes were bright. + +"I was coming--in a moment," she said, "I was beginning to fear that----" + +"--he had struck me down in the dark?" added Aldous, as she hesitated. +"Well, he would like to do just that, Joanne." Unconsciously her name had +slipped from him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to +call her Joanne now. "Is it necessary for me to tell you what this man +Quade is--why he was looking through the window?" + +She shuddered. + +"No--no--I understand!" + +"Only partly," continued Aldous, his face white and set. "It is necessary +that you should know more than you have guessed, for your own protection. +If you were like most other women I would not tell you the truth, but would +try to shield you from it. As it is you should know. There is only one +other man in the Rocky Mountains more dangerous than Bill Quade. He is +Culver Rann, up at Tete Jaune. They are partners--partners in crime, in +sin, in everything that is bad and that brings them gold. Their influence +among the rougher elements along the line of rail is complete. They are so +strongly entrenched that they have put contractors out of business because +they would not submit to blackmail. The few harmless police we have +following the steel have been unable to touch them. They have cleaned up +hundreds of thousands, chiefly in three things--blackmail, whisky, and +women. Quade is the viler of the two. He is like a horrible beast. Culver +Rann makes me think of a sleek and shining serpent. But it is this man +Quade----" + +He found it almost impossible to go on with Joanne's blue eyes gazing so +steadily into his. + +"--whom we have made our enemy," she finished for him. + +"Yes--and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "You +cannot go on to Tete Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If you +do----" + +"What will happen?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I am +going to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on to +Tete Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to which +I can take you, and where you will be safe." + +As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table. + +"I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said. + +He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through the +door. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness of +the spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand. + +"It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like the +shell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?" + +"No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and they +made me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them." + +He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as she +spoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, that +made her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand was +gripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert, +yet she could detect nothing of caution or preparedness in his careless +voice. + +"The bloodstones didn't trouble me," he answered. "I can't remember +anything that upset me more than the snakes. I am a terrible coward when it +comes to anything that crawls without feet. I will run from a snake no +longer than your little finger--in fact, I'm just as scared of a little +grass snake as I am of a python. It's the _thing_, and not its size, that +horrifies me. Once I jumped out of a boat into ten feet of water because my +companion caught an eel on his line, and persisted in the argument that it +was a fish. Thank Heaven we don't have snakes up here. I've seen only three +or four in all my experience in the Northland." + +She laughed softly in spite of the uneasy thrill the night held for her. + +"It is hard for me to imagine you being afraid," she said. "And yet if you +were afraid I know it would be of just some little thing like that. My +father was one of the bravest men in the world, and a hundred times I have +seen him show horror at sight of a spider. If you were afraid of snakes, +why did you go up the Gampola, in Ceylon?" + +"I didn't know the snakes were there," he chuckled. "I hadn't dreamed there +were a half so many snakes in the whole world as there were along that +confounded river. I slept sitting up, dressed in rubber wading boots that +came to my waist, and wore thick leather gloves. I got out of the country +at the earliest possible moment." + +When they entered the edge of the Miette clearing and saw the glow of +lights ahead of them, Aldous caught the sudden upturn of his companion's +face, laughing at him in the starlight. + +"Kind, thoughtful John Aldous!" she whispered, as if to herself. "How nice +of you it was to talk of such pleasant things while we were coming through +that black, dreadful swamp--with a Bill Quade waiting for us on the side!" + +A low ripple of laughter broke from her lips, and he stopped dead in his +tracks, forgetting to put the automatic back in his pocket. At sight of it +the amusement died in her face. She caught his arm, and one of her hands +seized the cold steel of the pistol. + +"Would he--_dare?_" she demanded. + +"You can't tell," replied Aldous, putting the gun in his pocket. "And that +was a creepy sort of conversation to load you down with, wasn't it, +Ladygray? I imagine you'll catch me in all sorts of blunders like that." He +pointed ahead. "There's Mrs. Otto now. She's looking this way and wondering +with all her big heart if you ought not to be at home and in bed." + +The door of the Otto home was wide open, and silhouetted in the flood of +light was the good-natured Scotchwoman. Aldous gave the whistling signal +which she and her menfolk always recognized, and hurried on with Joanne. + +Before they had quite reached the tent-house, Joanne put a detaining hand +on his arm. + +"I don't want you to go back to the cabin to-night," she said. "The face at +the window--was terrible. I am afraid. I don't want you to be there alone." + +Her words sent a warm glow through him. + +"Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Quade will not come back." + +"I don't want you to return to the cabin," she persisted. "Is there no +other place where you can stay?" + +"I might go down and console Stevens, and borrow a couple of his horse +blankets for a bed if that will please you." + +"It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may go +on to Tete Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?" + +"It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'll +promise not to sleep in the cabin to-night." + +Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night, +and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacks +under the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety and +fear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw her +pause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. His +heart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangely +new and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way. + +He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the moment +he had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood was +roused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to find +Quade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himself +that he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficult +for Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business that +could be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job to +lose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white striped +tent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed him +before, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now he +wanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant to +come up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into the +lighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrust +carelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroad +builders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool balls +and the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or four +musical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's place +was going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whom +he knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their manner +toward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certain +they would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign. +For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotch +surveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no mention of him. Purposely he +passed Quade's tent and walked to the end of the street, nodding and +looking closely at those whom he knew. It was becoming more and more +evident to him that Quade and his pals were keeping the affair of the +afternoon as quiet as possible. Stevens had heard of it. He wondered how. + +Aldous retraced his steps. As though nothing had happened, he entered +Quade's place. There were a dozen men inside, and among them he recognized +three who had been there that afternoon. He nodded to them. Slim Barker was +in Quade's place behind the counter. Barker was Quade's right-hand man at +Miette, and there was a glitter in his rat-like eyes as Aldous leaned over +the glass case at one end of the counter and asked for cigars. He fumbled a +bit as he picked out half a dollar's worth from the box. His eyes met +Slim's. + +"Where is Quade?" he asked casually. + +Barker shrugged his shoulders. + +"Busy to-night," he answered shortly. "Want to see him?" + +"No, not particularly. Only--I don't want him to hold a grudge." + +Barker replaced the box in the case and turned away. After lighting a cigar +Aldous went out. He was sure that Quade had not returned from the river. +Was he lying in wait for him near the cabin? The thought sent a sudden +thrill through him. In the same breath it was gone. With half a dozen men +ready to do his work, Aldous knew that Quade would not redden his own hands +or place himself in any conspicuous risk. During the next hour he visited +the places where Quade was most frequently seen. He had made up his mind to +walk over to the engineers' camp, when a small figure darted after him out +of the gloom of the trees. + +It was Stevens' boy. + +"Dad wants to see you down at the camp," he whispered excitedly. "He says +right away--an' for no one to see you. He said not to let any one see me. +I've been waiting for you to come out in the dark." + +"Skip back and tell him I'll come," replied Aldous quickly. "Be sure you +mind what he says--and don't let any one see you!" + +The boy disappeared like a rabbit. Aldous looked back, and ahead, and then +dived into the darkness after him. + +A quarter of an hour later he came out on the river close to Stevens' camp. +A little nearer he saw Stevens squatted close to a smouldering fire about +which he was drying some clothes. The boy was huddled in a disconsolate +heap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretched +himself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind a +clump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right in +using caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer's +face. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than when +Aldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droop +of his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coals +of fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a moment +they stood silent. + +"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got +something to tell you." + +They crouched behind the bush. + +"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit." + +"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens." + +The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and +gripped John Aldous by the arm. + +"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take +offence--because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw +her up at the train. But you _know_. Is she good, or----You know what we +think of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask." + +"She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and as +sweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for." + +"I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her in +your cabin--after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quade +was here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seen +I had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me that +later. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like he +did then. I'll cut it short. He's mad--loon mad--over that girl. I played +the sympathy act, thinkin' of you--an' _her_. He hinted at some easy money. +I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to take +money most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you. +Then it come out. He made me a proposition." + +Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush. + +"Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone." + +Stevens bent so near that his tobacco-laden breath swept his companion's +cheek. + +"He said he'd replace my lost outfit if I'd put you out of the way some +time day after to-morrow!" + +"Kill me?" + +"Yes." + +For a few moments there was a silence broken only by their tense breathing. +Aldous had found the packer's hand. He was gripping it hard. + +"Thank you, old man," he said. "And he believes you will do it?" + +"I told him I would--day after to-morrow--an' throw your body in the +Athabasca." + +"Splendid, Stevens! You've got Sherlock Holmes beat by a mile! And does he +want you to do this pretty job because I gave him a crack on the jaw?" + +"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Stevens quickly. "He knows the girl is a +stranger and alone. You've taken an interest in her. With you out of the +way, she won't be missed. Dammit, man, don't you know his system? And, if +he ever wanted anything in his life he wants her. She's turned that +poison-blood of his into fire. He raved about her here. He'll go the limit. +He'll do anything to get her. He's so crazy I believe he'd give every +dollar he's got. There's just one thing for you to do. Send the girl back +where she come from. Then you get out. As for myself--I'm goin' to +emigrate. Ain't got a dollar now, so I might as well hit for the prairies +an' get a job on a ranch. Next winter I guess me 'n the kid will trap up on +the Parsnip River." + +"You're wrong--clean wrong," said Aldous quietly. "When I saw your outfit +going down among the rocks I had already made up my mind to help you. What +you've told me to-night hasn't made any difference. I would have helped you +anyway, Stevens. I've got more money than I know what to do with right now. +Roper has a thirty-horse outfit for sale. Buy it to-morrow. I'll pay for +it, and you needn't consider yourself a dollar in debt. Some day I'll have +you take me on a long trip, and that will make up for it. As for the girl +and myself--we're going on to Tete Jaune to-morrow." + +Aldous could see the amazed packer staring at him in the gloom. "You don't +think I'm sellin' myself, do you, Aldous?" he asked huskily. "That ain't +why you're doin' this--for me 'n the kid--is it?" + +"I had made up my mind to do it before I saw you to-night," repeated +Aldous. "I've got lots of money, and I don't use but a little of it. It +sometimes accumulates so fast that it bothers me. Besides, I've promised to +accept payment for the outfit in trips. These mountains have got a hold on +me, Stevens. I'm going to take a good many trips before I die." + +"Not if you go on to Tete Jaune, you ain't," replied Stevens, biting a huge +quid from a black plug. + +Aldous had risen to his feet. Stevens stood up beside him. + +"If you go on to Tete Jaune you're a bigger fool than I was in tryin' to +swim the outfit across the river to-day," he added. "Listen!" He leaned +toward Aldous, his eyes gleaming. "In the last six months there's been +forty dead men dragged out of the Frazer between Tete Jaune an' Fort +George. You know that. The papers have called 'em accidents--the 'toll of +railroad building.' Mebby a part of it is. Mebby a half of them forty died +by accident. The other half didn't. They were sent down by Culver Rann and +Bill Quade. Once you go floatin' down the Frazer there ain't no questions +asked. Somebody sees you an' pulls you out--mebby a Breed or an Indian--an' +puts you under a little sand a bit later. If it's a white man he does +likewise. There ain't no time to investigate floaters over-particular in +the wilderness. Besides, you git so beat up in the rocks you don't look +like much of anything. I know, because I worked on the scows three months, +an' helped bury four of 'em. An' there wasn't anything, not even a scrap of +paper, in the pockets of two of 'em! Is that suspicious, or ain't it? It +don't pay to talk too much along the Frazer. Men keep their mouths shut. +But I'll tell you this: Culver Rann an' Bill Quade know a lot." + +"And you think I'll go in the Frazer?" + +"Egzactly. Quade would rather have you in there than in the Athabasca. And +then----" + +"Well?" + +Stevens spat into the bush, and shrugged his shoulders. "This beautiful +lady you've taken an interest in will turn up missing, Aldous. She'll +disappear off the face of the map--just like Stimson's wife did. You +remember Stimson?" + +"He was found in the Frazer," said Aldous, gripping the other's arm in the +darkness. + +"Egzactly. An' that pretty wife of his disappeared a little later. Up there +everybody's too busy to ask where other people go. Culver Rann an' Bill +Quade know what happened to Stimson, an' they know what happened to +Stimson's wife. You don't want to go to Tete Jaune. You don't want to let +_her_ go. I know what I'm talking about. Because----" + +There fell a moment's silence. Aldous waited. Stevens spat again, and +finished in a whisper: + +"Quade went to Tete Jaune to-night. He went on a hand-car. He's got +something he wants to tell Culver Rann that he don't dare telephone or +telegraph. An' he wants to get that something to him ahead of to-morrow's +train. Understand?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +John Aldous confessed to himself that he did not quite understand, in spite +of the effort Stevens had made to impress upon him, the importance of not +going to Tete Jaune. He was bewildered over a number of things, and felt +that he needed to be alone for a time to clear his mind. He left Stevens, +promising to return later to share a couple of blankets and a part of his +tepee, for he was determined to keep his promise to Joanne, and not return +to his own cabin, even though Quade had left Miette. He followed a moonlit +trail along the river to an abandoned surveyors' camp, knowing that he +would meet no one, and that in this direction he would have plenty of +unbroken quiet in which to get some sort of order out of the chaotic tangle +of events through which he had passed that day. + +Aldous had employed a certain amount of caution, but until he had talked +with Stevens he had not believed that Quade, in his twofold desire to +avenge himself and possess Joanne, would go to the extraordinary ends +predicted by the packer. His point of view was now entirely changed. He +believed Stevens. He knew the man was not excitable. He was one of the +coolest heads in the mountains. And he had abundant nerve. Thought of +Stimson and Stimson's wife had sent the hot blood through Aldous like fire. +Was Stevens right in that detail? And was Quade actually planning the same +end for him and Joanne? Why had Quade stolen on ahead to Tete Jaune? Why +had he not waited for to-morrow's train? + +He found himself walking swiftly along the road, where he had intended to +walk slowly--a hundred questions pounding through his brain. Suddenly a +thought came to him that stopped him in the trail, his unseeing eyes +staring down into the dark chasm of the river. After all, was it so strange +that Quade would do these things? Into his own life Joanne had come like a +wonderful dream-creature transformed into flesh and blood. He no longer +tried to evade the fact that he could not think without thinking of Joanne. +She had become a part of him. She had made him forget everything but her, +and in a few hours had sent into the dust of ruin his cynicism and +aloneness of a lifetime. If Joanne had come to him like this, making him +forget his work, filling him more and more with the thrilling desire to +fight for her, was it so very strange that a beast like Quade would +fight--in another way? + +He went on down the trail, his hands clenched tightly. After all, it was +not fear of Quade or of what he might attempt that filled him with +uneasiness. It was Joanne herself, her strange quest, its final outcome. +With the thought that she was seeking for the man who was her husband, a +leaden hand seemed gripping at his heart. He tried to shake it off, but it +was like a sickness. To believe that she had been the wife of another man +or that she could ever belong to any other man than himself seemed like +shutting his eyes forever to the sun. And yet she had told him. She had +belonged to another man; she might belong to him even now. She had come to +find if he was alive--or dead. + +And if alive? Aldous stopped again, and looked down into the dark pit +through which the river was rushing a hundred feet below him. It tore in +frothing maelstroms through a thousand rocks, filling the night with a low +thunder. To John Aldous the sound of it might have been a thousand miles +away. He did not hear. His eye saw nothing in the blackness. For a few +moments the question he had asked himself obliterated everything. If they +found Joanne's husband alive at Tete Jaune--what then? He turned back, +retracing his steps over the trail, a feeling of resentment--of hatred for +the man he had never seen--slowly taking the place of the oppressive thing +that had turned his heart sick within him. Then, in a flash, came the +memory of Joanne's words--words in which, white-faced and trembling, she +had confessed that her anxiety was not that she would find him dead, but +that _she would find him alive_. A joyous thrill shot through him as he +remembered that. Whoever this man was, whatever he might have been to her +once, or was to her now, Joanne did not want to find him alive! He laughed +softly to himself as he quickened his pace. The tense grip of his fingers +loosened. The grim, almost ghastly part of it did not occur to him--the +fact that deep in his soul he was wishing a man dead and in his grave. + +He did not return at once to the scenes about Quade's place, but went to +the station, three quarters of a mile farther up the track. Here, in a +casual way, he learned from the little pink-faced Cockney Englishman who +watched the office at night that Stevens had been correct in his +information. Quade had gone to Tete Jaune. Although it was eleven o'clock, +Aldous proceeded in the direction of the engineers' camp, still another +quarter of a mile deeper in the bush. He was restless. He did not feel that +he could sleep that night. The engineers' camp he expected to find in +darkness, and he was surprised when he saw a light burning brightly in +Keller's cabin. + +Keller was the assistant divisional engineer, and they had become good +friends. It was Keller who had set the first surveyor's line at Tete Jaune, +and it was he who had reported it as the strategic point from which to push +forward the fight against mountain and wilderness, both by river and rail. +He was, in a way, accountable for the existence of Tete Jaune just where it +did exist, and he knew more about it than any other man in the employ of +the Grand Trunk Pacific. For this reason Aldous was glad that Keller had +not gone to bed. He knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an +invitation. + +The engineer stood in the middle of the floor, his coat off, his fat, +stubby hands thrust into the pockets of his baggy trousers, his red face +and bald cranium shining in the lamplight. A strange fury blazed in his +eyes as he greeted his visitor. He began pacing back and forth across the +room, puffing volumes of smoke from a huge bowled German pipe as he +motioned Aldous to a chair. + +"What's the matter, Peter?" + +"Enough--an' be damned!" growled Peter. "If it wasn't enough do you think +I'd be out of bed at this hour of the night?" + +"I'm sure it's enough," agreed Aldous. "If it wasn't you'd be in your +little trundle over there, sleeping like a baby. I don't know of any one +who can sleep quite as sweetly as you, Peter. But what the devil _is_ the +trouble?" + +"Something that you can't make me feel funny over. You haven't heard--about +the bear?" + +"Not a word, Peter." + +Keller took his hands from his pockets and the big, bowled pipe from his +mouth. + +"You know what I did with that bear," he said. "More than a year ago I made +friends with her up there on the hill instead of killing her. Last summer I +got her so she'd eat out of my hands. I fed her a barrel of sugar between +July and November. We used to chum it an hour at a time, and I'd pet her +like a dog. Why, damn it, man, I thought more of that bear than I did of +any human in these regions! And she got so fond of me she didn't leave to +den up until January. This spring she came out with two cubs, an' as soon +as they could waddle she brought 'em out there on the hillside an' waited +for me. We were better chums than ever. I've got another half barrel of +sugar--lump sugar--on the way from Edmonton. An' now what do you think that +damned C.N.R. gang has done?" + +"They haven't shot her?" + +"No, they haven't shot her. I wish to God they had! They've _blown her +up!_" + +The little engineer subsided into a chair. + +"Do you hear?" he demanded. "They've blown her up! Put a stick of dynamite +under some sugar, attached a battery wire to it, an' when she was licking +up the sugar touched it off. An' I can't do anything, damn 'em! Bears ain't +protected. The government of this province calls 'em 'pests.' Murder 'em +on sight, it says. An' those fiends over there think it's a good joke on +me--an' the bear!" + +Keller was sweating. His fat hands were clenched, and his round, plump body +fairly shook with excitement and anger. + +"When I went over to-night they laughed at me--the whole bunch," he went on +thickly. "I offered to lick every man in the outfit from A to Z, an' I +ain't had a fight in twenty years. Instead of fighting like men, a dozen of +them grabbed hold of me, chucked me into a blanket, an' bounced me for +fifteen minutes straight! What do you think of _that_, Aldous? +Me--assistant divisional engineer of the G.T.P.--_bounced in a blanket_!" + +Peter Keller hopped from his chair and began pacing back and forth across +the room again, sucking truculently on his pipe. + +"If they were on our road I'd--I'd chase every man of them out of the +country. But they're not. They belong to the C.N.R. They're out of my +reach." He stopped, suddenly, in front of Aldous. "What can I do?" he +demanded. + +"Nothing," said Aldous. "You've had something like this coming to you, +Peter. I've been expecting it. All the camps for twenty miles up and down +the line know what you thought of that bear. You fired Tibbits because, as +you said, he was too thick with Quade. You told him that right before +Quade's face. Tibbits is now foreman of that grading gang over there. Two +and two make four, you know. Tibbits--Quade--the blown-up bear. Quade +doesn't miss an opportunity, no matter how small it is. Tibbits and Quade +did this to get even with you. You might report the blanket affair to the +contractors of the other road. I don't believe they would stand for it." + +Aldous had guessed correctly what the effect of associating Quade's name +with the affair would be. Keller was one of Quade's deadliest enemies. He +sat down close to Aldous again. His eyes burned deep back. It was not +Keller's physique, but his brain, and the fearlessness of his spirit, that +made him dangerous. + +"I guess you're right, Aldous," he said. "Some day--I'll even up on Quade." + +"And so shall I, Peter." + +The engineer stared into the other's eyes. + +"You----" + +Aldous nodded. + +"Quade left for Tete Jaune to-night, on a hand-car. I follow him to-morrow, +on the train. I can't tell you what's up, Peter, but I don't think it will +stop this side of death for Quade and Culver Rann--or me. I mean that quite +literally. I don't see how more than one side can come out alive. I want to +ask you a few questions before I go on to Tete Jaune. You know every +mountain and trail about the place, don't you?" + +"I've tramped them all, afoot and horseback." + +"Then perhaps you can direct me to what I must find--a man's grave." + +Peter Keller paused in the act of relighting his pipe. For a moment he +stared in amazement. + +"There are a great many graves up at Tete Jaune," he said, at last. "A +great many graves--and many of them unmarked. If it's a _Quade_ grave +you're looking for, Aldous, it will be unmarked." + +"I am quite sure that it is marked--or _was_ at one time," said Aldous. +"It's the grave of a man who had quite an unusual name, Peter, and you +might remember it--Mortimer FitzHugh." + +"FitzHugh--FitzHugh," repeated Keller, puffing out fresh volumes of smoke. +"Mortimer FitzHugh----" + +"He died, I believe, before there was a Tete Jaune, or at least before the +steel reached there," added Aldous. "He was on a hunting trip, and I have +reason to think that his death was a violent one." + +Keller rose and fell into his old habit of pacing back and forth across the +room, a habit that had worn a path in the bare pine boards of the floor. + +"There's graves an' graves up there, but not so many that were there before +Tete Jaune came," he began, between puffs. "Up on the side of White Knob +Mountain there's the grave of a man who was torn to bits by a grizzly. But +his name was Humphrey. Old Yellowhead John--Tete Jaune, they called +him--died years before that, and no one knows where his grave is. We had +five men die before the steel came, but there wasn't a FitzHugh among 'em. +Crabby--old Crabby Tompkins, a trapper, is buried in the sand on the +Frazer. The last flood swept his slab away. There's two unmarked graves in +Glacier Canyon, but I guess they're ten years old if a day. Burns was shot. +I knew him. Plenty died after the steel came, but before that----" + +Suddenly he stopped. He faced Aldous. His breath came in quick jerks. + +"By Heaven, I do remember!" he cried. "There's a mountain in the Saw Tooth +Range, twelve miles from Tete Jaune--a mountain with the prettiest basin +you ever saw at the foot of it, with a lake no bigger than this camp, and +an old cabin which Yellowhead himself must have built fifty years ago. +There's a blind canyon runs out of it, short an' dark, on the right. We +found a grave there. I don't remember the first name on the slab. Mebby it +was washed out. But, so 'elp me God, _the last name was FitzHugh_!" + +With a sudden cry, Aldous jumped to his feet and caught Keller's arm. + +"You're sure of it, Peter?" + +"Positive!" + +It was impossible for Aldous to repress his excitement. The engineer stared +at him even harder than before. + +"What can that grave have to do with Quade?" he asked. "The man died before +Quade was known in these regions." + +"I can't tell you now, Peter," replied Aldous, pulling the engineer to the +table. "But I think you'll know quite soon. For the present, I want you to +sketch out a map that will take me to the grave. Will you?" + +On the table were pencil and paper. Keller seated himself and drew them +toward him. + +"I'm damned if I can see what that grave can have to do with Quade," he +said; "but I'll tell you how to find it!" + +For several minutes they bent low over the table, Peter Keller describing +the trail to the Saw Tooth Mountain as he sketched it, step by step, on a +sheet of office paper. When it was done, Aldous folded it carefully and +placed it in his wallet. + +"I can't go wrong, and--thank you, Keller!" + +After Aldous had gone, Peter Keller sat for some time in deep thought. + +"Now I wonder what the devil there can be about a grave to make him so +happy," he grumbled, listening to the whistle that was growing fainter down +the trail. + +And Aldous, alone, with the moon straight above him as he went back to the +Miette Plain, felt, in truth, this night had become brighter for him than +any day he had ever known. For he knew that Peter Keller was not a man to +make a statement of which he was not sure. Mortimer FitzHugh was dead. His +bones lay under the slab up in that little blind canyon in the shadow of +the Saw Tooth Mountain. To-morrow he would tell Joanne. And, blindly, he +told himself that she would be glad. + +Still whistling, he passed the Chinese laundry shack on the creek, crossed +the railroad tracks, and buried himself in the bush beyond. A quarter of an +hour later he stole quietly into Stevens' camp and went to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Stevens, dreaming of twenty horses plunging to death among the rocks in the +river, slept uneasily. He awoke before it was dawn, but when he dragged +himself from his tepee, moving quietly not to awaken his boy, he found John +Aldous on his knees before a small fire, slicing thin rashers of bacon into +a frying-pan. The weight of his loss was in the tired packer's eyes and +face and the listless droop of his shoulders. John Aldous, with three hours +between the blankets to his credit, was as cheery as the crackling fire +itself. He had wanted to whistle for the last half-hour. Seeing Stevens, he +began now. + +"I wasn't going to rouse you until breakfast was ready," he interrupted +himself to say. "I heard you groaning, Stevens. I know you had a bad night. +And the kid, too. He couldn't sleep. But I made up my mind you'd have to +get up early. I've got a lot of business on to-day, and we'll have to rouse +Curly Roper out of bed to buy his pack outfit. Find the coffee, will you? I +couldn't." + +For a moment Stevens stood over him. + +"See here, Aldous, you didn't mean what you said last night, did you? You +didn't mean--that?" + +"Confound it, yes! Can't you understand plain English, Stevens? Don't you +believe a man when he's a gentleman? Buy that outfit! Why, I'd buy twenty +outfits to-day, I'm--I'm feeling so fine, Stevens!" + +For the first time in forty-eight hours Stevens smiled. + +"I was wondering if I hadn't been dreaming," he said. "Once, a long time +ago, I guess I felt just like you do now." + +With which cryptic remark he went for the coffee. + +Aldous looked up in time to see the boy stagger sleepily out of the tepee. +There was something pathetic about the motherlessness of the picture, and +he understood a little of what Stevens had meant. + +An hour later, with breakfast over, they started for Curly's. Curly was +pulling on his boots when they arrived, while his wife was frying the +inevitable bacon in the kitchen. + +"I hear you have some horses for sale, Curly," said Aldous. + +"Hi 'ave." + +"How many?" + +"Twenty-nine, 'r twenty-eight--mebby twenty-seven." + +"How much?" + +Curly looked up from the task of pulling on his second boot. + +"H'are you buying 'orses or looking for hinformation?" he asked. + +"I'm buying, and I'm in a hurry. How much do you want a head?" + +"Sixty, 'r six----" + +"I'll give you sixty dollars apiece for twenty-eight head, and that's just +ten dollars apiece more than they're worth," broke in Aldous, pulling a +check-book and a fountain pen from his pocket. "Is it a go?" + +A little stupefied by the suddenness of it all, Curly opened his mouth and +stared. + +"Is it a go?" repeated Aldous. "Including blankets, saddles, pack-saddles, +ropes, and canvases?" + +Curly nodded, looking from Aldous to Stevens to see if he could detect +anything that looked like a joke. + +"Hit's a go," he said. + +Aldous handed him a check for sixteen hundred and eighty dollars. + +"Make out the bill of sale to Stevens," he said. "I'm paying for them, but +they're Stevens' horses. And, look here, Curly, I'm buying them only with +your agreement that you'll say nothing about who paid for them. Will you +agree to that?" + +Curly was joyously looking at the check. + +"Gyve me a Bible," he demanded. "Hi'll swear Stevens p'id for them! I give +you the word of a Hinglish gentleman!" + +Without another word Aldous opened the cabin door and was gone, leaving +Stevens quite as much amazed as the little Englishman whom everybody called +Curly, because he had no hair. + +Aldous went at once to the station, and for the first time inquired into +the condition that was holding back the Tete Jaune train. He found that a +slide had given way, burying a section of track under gravel and rock. A +hundred men were at work clearing it away, and it was probable they would +finish by noon. A gang boss, who had come back with telegraphic reports, +said that half a dozen men had carried Quade's hand-car over the +obstruction about midnight. + +It was seven o'clock when Aldous left for the Miette bottom. He believed +that Joanne would be up. At this season of the year the first glow of day +usually found the Ottos at breakfast, and for half an hour the sun had been +shining on the top of Pyramid Mountain. He was eager to tell her what had +passed between him and Keller. He laughed softly when he confessed to +himself how madly he wanted to see her. + +He always liked to come up to the Otto home very early of a morning, or in +the dusk of evening. Very frequently he was filled with a desire to stand +outside the red-and-white striped walls of the tent-house and listen +unseen. Inside there was always cheer: at night the crackle of fire and the +glow of light, the happy laughter of the gentle-hearted Scotchwoman, and +the affectionate banter of her "big mountain man," who looked more like a +brigand than the luckiest and most contented husband in the mountains--the +luckiest, quite surely, with the one exception of his brother Clossen, who +had, by some occult strategy or other, induced a sweet-faced and +aristocratic little woman to look upon his own honest physiognomy as the +handsomest and finest in the world. This morning Aldous followed a narrow +path that brought him behind the tent-house. He heard no voices. A few +steps more and he emerged upon a scene that stopped him and set his heart +thumping. + +Less than a dozen paces away stood Mrs. Otto and Joanne, their backs toward +him. They were gazing silently and anxiously in the direction of the thick, +low bush across the clearing, through which led the trail to his cabin. He +did not look toward the bush. His eyes were upon Joanne. Her slender figure +was full in the golden radiance of the morning sun, and Aldous felt himself +under the spell of a joyous wonder as he looked at her. For the first time +he saw her hair as he had pictured it--as he had given it to that other +_Joanne_ in the book he had called "Fair Play." She had been brushing it in +the sun when he came, but now she stood poised in that tense and waiting +attitude--silent--gazing in the direction of the bush, with that marvellous +mantle sweeping about her in a shimmering silken flood. He would not have +moved, nor would he have spoken, until Joanne herself broke the spell. She +turned, and saw him. With a little cry of surprise she flung back her hair. +He could not fail to see the swift look of relief and gladness that had +come into her eyes. In another instant her face was flushing crimson. + +"I beg your pardon for coming up like an eavesdropper," he apologized. "I +thought you would just about be at breakfast, Mrs. Otto." + +The Scotchwoman heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. + +"Goodness gracious, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed thankfully. +"Jack and Bruce have just gone out to see if they could find your dead +body!" + +"We thought perhaps something might have happened," said Joanne, who had +moved nearer the door. "You will excuse me, won't you, while I finish my +hair?" + +Without waiting for him to answer, she ran into the tent. No sooner had she +disappeared than the good-natured smile left Mrs. Otto's face. There was a +note of alarm in her low voice as she whispered: + +"Jack and Bruce went to the barn last night, and she slept with me. She +tried to be quiet, but I know she didn't sleep much. And she cried. I +couldn't hear her, but the pillow was wet. Once my hand touched her cheek, +and it was wet. I didn't ask any questions. This morning, at breakfast, she +told us everything that happened, all about Quade--and your trouble. She +told us about Quade looking in at the window, and she was so nervous +thinking something might have happened to you last night that the poor dear +couldn't even drink her coffee until Jack and Bruce went out to hunt for +you. But I don't think that was why she cried!" + +"I wish it had been," said Aldous. "It makes me happy to think she was +worried about--me." + +"Good Lord!" gasped Mrs. Otto. + +He looked for a moment into the slow-growing amazement and understanding in +her kind eyes. + +"You will keep my little secret, won't you, Mrs. Otto?" he asked. "Probably +you'll think it's queer. I've only known her a day. But I feel--like that. +Somehow I feel that in telling this to you I am confiding in a mother, or a +sister. I want you to understand why I'm going on to Tete Jaune with her. +That is why she was crying--because of the dread of something up there. I'm +going with her. She shouldn't go alone." + +Voices interrupted them, and they turned to find that Jack and Bruce Otto +had come out of the bush and were quite near. Aldous was sorry that Joanne +had spoken of his trouble with Quade. He did not want to discuss the +situation, or waste time in listening to further advice. He was anxious to +be alone again with Joanne, and tell her what he had learned from Peter +Keller. For half an hour he repressed his uneasiness. The brothers then +went on to their corral. A few minutes later Joanne was once more at his +side, and they were walking slowly over the trail that led to the cabin on +the river. + +He could see that the night had made a change in her. There were circles +under her eyes which were not there yesterday. When she looked at him their +velvety blue depths betrayed something which he knew she was struggling +desperately to keep from him. It was not altogether fear. It was more a +betrayal of pain--a torment of the soul and not of the body. He noticed +that in spite of the vivid colouring of her lips her face was strangely +pale. The beautiful flush that had come into it when she first saw him was +gone. + +Then he began to tell her of his visit to Peter Keller. His own heart was +beating violently when he came to speak of the grave and the slab over it +that bore the name of FitzHugh. He had expected that what he had discovered +from Keller would create some sort of a sensation. He had even come up to +the final fact gradually, so that it would not appear bald and shocking. +Joanne's attitude stunned him. She looked straight ahead. When she turned +to him he did not see in her eyes what he had expected to see. They were +quiet, emotionless, except for that shadow of inward torture which did not +leave them. + +"Then to-morrow we can go to the grave?" she asked simply. + +Her voice, too, was quiet and without emotion. + +He nodded. "We can leave at sunrise," he said. "I have my own horses at +Tete Jaune and there need be no delay. We were to start into the North from +there." + +"You mean on the adventure you were telling me about?" + +She had looked at him quickly. + +"Yes. Old Donald, my partner, has been waiting for me a week. That's why I +was so deuced anxious to rush the book to an end. I'm behind Donald's +schedule, and he's growing nervous. It's rather an unusual enterprise +that's taking us north this time, and Donald can't understand why I should +hang back to write the tail end of a book. He has lived sixty years in the +mountains. His full name is Donald MacDonald. Sometimes, back in my own +mind, I've called him History. He seems like that--as though he'd lived for +ages in these mountains instead of sixty years. If I could only write what +he has lived--even what one might imagine that he has lived! But I cannot. +I have tried three times, and have failed. I think of him as The Last +Spirit--a strange wandering ghost of the mighty ranges. His kind passed +away a hundred years ago. You will understand--when you see him." + +She put her hand on his arm and let it rest there lightly as they walked. +Into her eyes had returned some of the old warm glow of yesterday. + +"I want you to tell me about this adventure," she entreated softly. "I +understand--about the other. You have been good--oh! so good to me! And I +should tell you things; you are expecting me to explain. It is only fair +and honest that I should. I know what is in your mind, and I only want you +to wait--until to-morrow. Will you? And I will tell you then, when we have +found the grave." + +Involuntarily his hand sought Joanne's. For a single moment he felt the +warm, sweet thrill of it in his own as he pressed it more closely to his +arm. Then he freed it, looking straight ahead. A soft flush grew in +Joanne's cheeks. + +"Do you care a great deal for riches?" he asked. "Does the golden pot at +the end of the rainbow hold out a lure for you?" He did not realize the +strangeness of his question until their eyes met. "Because if you don't," +he added, smiling, "this adventure of ours isn't going to look very +exciting to you." + +She laughed softly. + +"No, I don't care for riches," she replied. "I am quite sure that just as +great education proves to one how little one knows, so great wealth brings +one face to face with the truth of how little one can enjoy. My father used +to say that the golden treasure at the end of the rainbow in every human +life was happiness, and that is something which you cannot buy. So why +crave riches, then? But please don't let my foolish ideas disappoint you. +I'll promise to be properly excited." + +She saw his face suddenly aflame with enthusiasm. + +"By George, but you're a--a brick, Joanne!" he exclaimed. "You are! And +I--I----" He was fumbling in his breast pocket. He brought out his wallet +and extracted from it the bit of paper Stevens had given him. "You dropped +that, and Stevens found it," he explained, giving it to her. "I thought +those figures might represent your fortune--or your income. Don't mind +telling you I went over 'em carefully. There's a mistake in the third +column. Five and four don't make seven. They make nine. In the final, when +you come to the multiplication part of it, that correction will make you +just thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars richer." + +"Thanks," said Joanne, lowering her eyes, and beginning to tear the paper +into small pieces. "And will it disappoint you, Mr. John Aldous, if I tell +you that all these figures stand for riches which some one else possesses? +And won't you let me remind you that we're getting a long way from what I +want to know--about your trip into the North?" + +"That's just it: we're hot on the trail," chuckled Aldous, deliberately +placing her hand on his arm again. "You don't care for riches. Neither do +I. I'm delighted to know we're going tandem in that respect. I've never had +any fun with money. It's the money that's had fun with me. I've no use for +yachts and diamonds and I'd rather travel afoot with a gun over my shoulder +than in a private car. Half the time I'm doing my own cooking, and I +haven't worn a white shirt in a year. My publishers persist in shoving more +money my way than I know what to do with. + +"You see, I pay only ten cents a plug for my smoking tobacco, and other +things accordingly. Somebody has said something about the good Lord sitting +up in Heaven and laughing at the jokes He plays on men. Well, I'm sitting +back and laughing now and then at the tussle between men and money over all +creation. There's a whole lot of humour in the way men and women fight and +die for money, if you only take time to stand out on the side and look on. +There's nothing big or dramatic about it. I may be a heathen, but to my +mind the funniest of all things is to see the world wringing its neck for a +dollar. And Donald--old History--needs even less money than I. So that puts +the big element of humour in this expedition of ours. We don't want money, +particularly. Donald wouldn't wear more than four pairs of boots a year if +he was a billionaire. And yet----" + +He turned to Joanne. The pressure of her hand was warmer on his arm. Her +beautiful eyes were glowing, and her red lips parted as she waited +breathlessly for him to go on. + +"And yet, we're going to a place where you can scoop gold up with a +shovel," he finished. "That's the funny part of it." + +"It isn't funny--it's tremendous!" gasped Joanne. "Think of what a man like +you could do with unlimited wealth, the good you might achieve, the +splendid endowments you might make----" + +"I have already made several endowments," interrupted Aldous. "I believe +that I have made a great many people happy, Ladygray--a great many. I am +gifted to make endowments, I think, above most people. Not one of the +endowments I have made has failed of complete success." + +"And may I ask what some of them were?" + +"I can't remember them all. There have been a great, great many. Most +conspicuous among them were three endowments which I made to some very +worthy people at various times for seven salted mines. I suppose you know +what a salted mine is, Ladygray? At other times I have endowed railroad +stocks which were very much in need of my helping mite, two copper +companies, a concern that was supposed to hoist up pure asbestos from the +stomach of Popocatapetl, and a steamship company that never steamed. As I +said before, they were all very successful endowments." + +"And how many of the other kind have you made?" she asked gently, looking +down the trail. "Like--Stevens', for instance?" + +He turned to her sharply. + +"What the deuce----" + +"Did you succeed in getting the new outfit from Mr. Curly?" she asked. + +"Yes. How did you know?" + +She smiled at the amazement which had gathered in his face. A glad, soft +light shone in her eyes. + +"I guess Mrs. Otto has been like a mother to that poor little boy," she +explained. "When you and Mr. Stevens went up to buy the outfit this morning +Jimmy ran over to tell her the news. We were all there--at breakfast. He +was so excited he could scarcely breathe. But it all came out, and he ran +back to camp before you came because he thought you wouldn't want me to +know. Wasn't that funny? He told me so when I walked a little way up the +path with him." + +"The little reprobate!" chuckled Aldous. "He's the best publicity man I +ever had, Ladygray. I did want you to know about this, and I wanted it to +come to you in just this way, so that I wouldn't be compelled to tell you +myself of the big and noble act I have done. It was my hope and desire that +you, through some one else, would learn of it, and come to understand more +fully what a generous and splendid biped I am. I even plotted to give this +child of Stevens' a silver dollar if he would get the news to you in some +one of his innocent ways. He's done it. And he couldn't have done it +better--even for a dollar. Ah, here we are at the cabin. Will you excuse +me while I pick up a few things that I want to take on to Tete Jaune with +me?" + +Between two trees close to the cabin he had built a seat, and here he left +Joanne. He was gone scarcely five minutes when he reappeared with a small +pack-sack over his shoulders, locked the door, and rejoined her. + +"You see it isn't much of a task for me to move," he said, as they turned +back in the direction of the Ottos'. "I'll wash the dishes when I come back +next October." + +"Five months!" gasped Joanne, counting on her fingers. "John Aldous, do you +mean----" + +"I do," he nodded emphatically. "I frequently leave dishes unwashed for +quite a spell at a time. That's the one unpleasant thing about this sort of +life--washing dishes. It's not so bad in the rainy season, but it's fierce +during a dry spell. When it rains I put the dishes out on a flat rock, +dirty side up, and the good Lord does the scrubbing." + +He looked at Joanne, face and eyes aglow with the happiness that was +sweeping in a mighty tumult within him. Half an hour had worked a +transformation in Joanne. There was no longer a trace of anguish or of fear +in her eyes. Their purity and limpid beauty made him think of the rock +violets that grew high up on the mountains. Her lips and cheeks were +flushed, and the soft pressure of her hand again resting on his arm filled +him with the exquisite thrill of possession and joy. He did not speak of +Tete Jaune again until they reached the Otto tent-house, and then only to +assure her that he would call for her half an hour before the train was +ready to leave. + +As soon as possible after that he went to the telegraph office and sent a +long message to MacDonald. Among other things he told him to prepare their +cabin for a lady guest. He knew this would shock the old mountain wanderer, +but he also knew that Donald would follow his instructions in spite of +whatever alarm he might have. There were other women at Tete Jaune, the +wives of men he knew, to whom he might have taken Joanne. Under the +conditions, however, he believed his own cabin would be her best refuge, at +least for a day or so. In that time he could take some one into his +confidence, probably Blackton and his wife. In fact, as he thought the +circumstances over, he saw the necessity of confiding in the Blacktons that +very night. + +He left the station, growing a bit nervous. Was it right for him to take +Joanne to his cabin at all? He had a tremendous desire to do so, chiefly on +account of Quade. The cabin was a quarter of a mile in the bush, and he was +positive if Joanne was there that Quade, and perhaps Culver Rann, would +come nosing about. This would give him the opportunity of putting into +execution a plan which he had already arranged for himself and old +MacDonald. On the other hand, was this arrangement fair to Joanne, even +though it gave him the chance to square up accounts with Quade? + +He stopped abruptly, and faced the station. All at once there swept upon +him a realization of how blind he had been, and what a fool he had almost +made of himself. Blackton was one of the contractors who were working +miracles in the mountains. He was a friend who would fight for him if +necessary. Mrs. Blackton, who preferred to be on the firing line with her +husband than in her luxurious city home, was the leader of all that was +decent and womanly in Tete Jaune. Why not have these friends meet them at +the train and take Joanne direct to their house? Such recognition and +friendship would mean everything to Joanne. To take her to his cabin would +mean---- + +Inwardly he swore at himself as he hurried back to the station, and his +face burned hotly as he thought of the chance such a blunder on his part +would have given Quade and Culver Rann to circulate the stories with which +they largely played their scoundrelly game. He sent another and longer +telegram. This time it was to Blackton. + +He ate dinner with Stevens, who had his new outfit ready for the mountains. +It was two o'clock before he brought Joanne up to the station. She was +dressed now as he had first seen her when she entered Quade's place. A veil +covered her face. Through the gray film of it he caught the soft warm glow +of her eyes and the shimmer of gold-brown tendrils of her hair. And he knew +why she wore that veil. It set his heart beating swiftly--the fact that she +was trying to hide from all eyes but his own a beauty so pure and wonderful +that it made her uncomfortable when under the staring gaze of the Horde. + +The hand that rested on his arm he pressed closer to his side as they +walked up the station platform, and under his breath he laughed softly and +joyously as he felt the thrill of it. He spoke no word. Not until they were +in their seat in the coach did Joanne look at him after that pressure of +her hand, and then she did not speak. But in the veiled glow of her eyes +there was something that told him she understood--a light that was +wonderfully gentle and sweet. And yet, without words, she asked him to +keep within his soul the things that were pounding madly there for speech. + +As the train rolled on and the babble of voices about them joined the +crunching rumble of the wheels, he wanted to lean close to her and tell her +how a few hours had changed the world for him. And then, for a moment, her +eyes turned to him again, and he knew that it would be a sacrilege to give +voice to the things he wanted to say. For many minutes he was silent, +gazing with her upon the wild panorama of mountain beauty as it drifted +past the car window. A loud voice two seats ahead of them proclaimed that +they were about to make Templeton's Curve. The man was talking to his +companion. + +"They shot up a hundred thousand pounds of black powder an' dynamite to +make way for two hundred feet of steel on that curve," he explained in a +voice heard all over the car. "They say you could hear the explosion fifty +miles away. Jack Templeton was near-sighted, an' he didn't see a rock +coming down on him that was half as big as a house. I helped scrape up what +was left of 'im an' we planted him at this end of the curve. It's been +Templeton's Curve ever since. You'll see his grave--with a slab over it!" + +It was there almost as he spoke, marked by a white-painted cross in a +circle of whitewashed stones. John Aldous felt a sudden shiver pass through +his companion. She turned from the window. Through her veil he saw her lips +tighten. Until he left the car half an hour later the man in the second +seat ahead talked of Templeton's grave and a dozen other graves along the +right of way. He was a rock-hog, and a specialist on the subject of +graves. Inwardly Aldous cursed him roundly. He cursed him all the way to +Tete Jaune, for to him he attributed the change which had again come over +Joanne. + +This change she could only partly conceal from him under her veil. She +asked him many questions about Tete Jaune and the Blacktons, and tried to +take an interest in the scenery they were passing. In spite of this he +could see that she was becoming more and more nervous as they progressed +toward the end of their journey. He felt the slow dampening of his own joy, +the deadening clutch of yesterday at his heart. Twice she lifted her veil +for a moment and he saw she was pale and the tense lines had gathered about +her mouth again. There was something almost haggard in her look the second +time. + +In the early dusk of evening they arrived at Tete Jaune. Aldous waited +until the car had emptied itself before he rose from his seat. Joanne's +hand clutched at his arm as they walked down the aisle. He felt the fierce +pressure of her fingers in his flesh. On the car platform they paused for a +moment, and he felt her throbbing beside him. She had taken her hand from +his arm, and he turned suddenly. She had raised her veil. Her face was dead +white. And she was staring out over the sea of faces under them in a +strange questing way, and her breath came from between her slightly parted +lips as if she had been running. Amazed for the moment, John Aldous did not +move. Somewhere in that crowd _Joanne expected to find a face she knew!_ +The truth struck him dumb--made him inert and lifeless. He, too, stared as +if in a trance. And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazed +into fierce life. + +In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces of +all were turned toward them. One he recognized--a bloated, leering face +grinning devilishly at them. It was Quade! + +A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too, +had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for. It was not his +face that she had expected to see nor because of him that she had lifted +her veil for the mob! + +He stepped down from the car and gave her his hand. Her fingers clutched +his convulsively. And they were cold as the fingers of the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A moment later some one came surging through the crowd, and called Aldous +by name. It was Blackton. His thin, genial face with its little spiked +moustache rose above the sea of heads about him, and as he came he grinned +a welcome. + +"A beastly mob!" he exclaimed, as he gripped his friend's hand. "I'm sorry +I couldn't bring my wife nearer than the back platform." + +Aldous turned to Joanne. He was still half in a daze. His heart was choking +him with its swift and excited beating. Even as he introduced her to +Blackton the voice kept crying in his brain that she had expected to find +some one in this crowd whom she knew. For a space it was as if the Joanne +whom he had known had slipped away from him. She had told him about the +grave, but this other she had kept from him. Something that was almost +anger surged up in him. His face bore marks of the strain as he watched her +greet Blackton. In an instant, it seemed to him, she had regained a part of +her composure. Blackton saw nothing but the haggard lines about her eyes +and the deep pallor in her face, which he ascribed to fatigue. + +"You're tired, Miss Gray," he said. "It's a killing ride up from Miette +these days. If we can get through this mob we'll have supper within fifteen +minutes!" + +With a word to Aldous he began worming his long, lean body ahead of them. +An instant Joanne's face was very close to Aldous', so close that he felt +her breath, and a tendril of her hair touched his lips. In that instant her +eyes looked into his steadily, and he felt rush over him a sudden shame. If +she was seeking and expecting, it was to him more than ever that she was +now looking for protection. The haunting trouble in her eyes, their +entreaty, their shining faith in him told him that, and he was glad that +she had not seen his sudden fear and suspicion. She clung more closely to +him as they followed Blackton. Her little fingers held his arm as if she +were afraid some force might tear him from her. He saw that she was looking +quickly at the faces about them with that same questing mystery in her +search. + +At the thin outer edge of the crowd Blackton dropped back beside them. A +few steps more and they came to the end of the platform, where a buckboard +was waiting in the dim light of one of the station lamps. Blackton +introduced Joanne, and assisted her into the seat beside his wife. + +"We'll leave you ladies to become acquainted while we rustle the baggage," +he said. "Got the checks, Aldous?" + +Joanne had given Aldous two checks on the train, and he handed them to +Blackton. Together they made their way to the baggage-room. + +"Thought Miss Gray would have some luggage, so I had one of my men come +with another team," he explained. "We won't have to wait. I'll give him the +checks." + +Before they returned to the buckboard, Aldous halted his friend. + +"I couldn't say much in that telegram," he said. "If Miss Gray wasn't a +bit tired and unstrung I'd let her explain. I want you to tell Mrs. +Blackton that she has come to Tete Jaune on a rather unpleasant mission, +old man. Nothing less than to attend to the grave of a--a near relative." + +"I regret that--I regret it very much," replied Blackton, flinging away the +match he had lighted without touching it to his cigar. "I guessed something +was wrong. She's welcome at our place, Aldous--for as long as she remains +in Tete Jaune. Perhaps I knew this relative. If I can assist you--or +her----" + +"He died before the steel came," said Aldous. "FitzHugh was his name. Old +Donald and I are going to take her to the grave. Miss Gray is an old friend +of mine," he lied boldly. "We want to start at dawn. Will that be too much +trouble for you and your wife?" + +"No trouble at all," declared Blackton. "We've got a Chinese cook who's +more like an owl than a human. How will a four o'clock breakfast suit you?" + +"Splendidly!" + +As they went on, the contractor said: + +"I carried your word to MacDonald. Hunted him down out in the bush. He is +very anxious to see you. He said he would not be at the depot, but that you +must not fail him. He's kept strangely under cover of late. Curious old +ghost, isn't he?" + +"The strangest man in the mountains," said Aldous "And, when you come to +know him, the most lovable. We're going North together." + +This time it was Blackton who stopped, with a hand on his companion's arm. +A short distance from them they could see the buckboard in the light of +the station lamp. + +"Has old Donald written you lately?" he asked. + +"No. He says he hasn't written a letter in twenty years." + +Blackton hesitated. + +"Then you haven't heard of his--accident?" + +The strange look in the contractor's face as he lighted a cigar made John +Aldous catch him sharply by the arm. + +"What do you mean?" + +"He was shot. I happened to be in Dr. Brady's office when he dragged +himself in, late at night. Doc got the bullet out of his shoulder. It +wasn't a bad wound. The old man swore it was an accident, and asked us to +say nothing about it. We haven't. But I've been wondering. Old Donald said +he was careless with his own pistol. But the fact is, Aldous--_he was shot +from behind!_" + +"The deuce you say!" + +"There was no perforation except from _behind_. In some way the bullet had +spent itself before it reached him. Otherwise it would have killed him." + +For a moment Aldous stared in speechless amazement into Blackton's face. + +"When did this happen?" he asked then. + +"Three days ago. Since then I have not seen old Donald until to-night. +Almost by accident I met him out there in the timber. I delivered the +telegram you sent him. After he had read it I showed him mine. He scribbled +something on a bit of paper, folded it, and pinned it with a porcupine +quill. I've been mighty curious, but I haven't pulled out that quill. Here +it is." + +From his pocket he produced the note and gave it to Aldous. + +"I'll read it a little later," said Aldous. "The ladies may possibly become +anxious about us." + +He dropped it in his pocket as he thanked Blackton for the trouble he had +taken in finding MacDonald. As he climbed into the front seat of the +buckboard his eyes met Joanne's. He was glad that in a large measure she +had recovered her self-possession. She smiled at him as they drove off, and +there was something in the sweet tremble of her lips that made him almost +fancy she was asking his forgiveness for having forgotten herself. Her +voice sounded more natural to him as she spoke to Mrs. Blackton. The +latter, a plump little blue-eyed woman with dimples and golden hair, was +already making her feel at home. She leaned over and placed a hand on her +husband's shoulder. + +"Let's drive home by way of town, Paul," she suggested. "It's only a little +farther, and I'm quite sure Miss Gray will be interested in our Great White +Way of the mountains. And I'm crazy to see that bear you were telling me +about," she added. + +Nothing could have suited Aldous more than this suggestion. He was sure +that Quade, following his own and Culver Rann's old methods, had already +prepared stories about Joanne, and he not only wanted Quade's friends--but +all of Tete Jaune as well--to see Joanne in the company of Mrs. Paul +Blackton and her husband. And this was a splendid opportunity, for the +night carnival was already beginning. + +"The bear is worth seeing," said Blackton, turning his team in the +direction of the blazing light of the half-mile street that was the +Broadway of Tete Jaune. "And the woman who rides him is worth seeing, too," +he chuckled. "He's a big fellow--and she plays the Godiva act. Rides him up +and down the street with her hair down, collecting dimes and quarters and +half dollars as she goes." + +A minute later the length of the street swept out ahead of them. It is +probable that the world had never before seen a street just like this +Broadway in Tete Jaune--the pleasure Mecca of five thousand workers along +the line of steel. There had been great "camps" in the building of other +railroads, but never a city in the wilderness like this--a place that had +sprung up like magic and which, a few months later, was doomed to disappear +as quickly. For half a mile it blazed out ahead of them, two garishly +lighted rows of shacks, big tents, log buildings, and rough board +structures, with a rough, wide street between. + +To-night Tete Jaune was like a blazing fire against the darkness of the +forest and mountain beyond. A hundred sputtering "jacks" sent up columns of +yellow flame in front of places already filled with the riot and tumult of +the night. A thousand lamps and coloured lanterns flashed like fireflies +along the way, and under them the crowd had gathered, and was flowing back +and forth. It was a weird and fantastic sight--this one strange and almost +uncanny street that was there largely for the play and the excitement of +men. + +Aldous turned to Joanne. He knew what this town meant. It was the first and +the last of its kind, and its history would never be written. The world +outside the mountains knew nothing of it. Like the men who made up its +transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past. Even the +mountains would forget it. But more than once, as he had stood a part of +it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the +things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden +tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy. He found something of +his own thought in Joanne's eyes. + +"There isn't much to it," he said, "but to-night, if you made the hunt, you +could find men of eighteen or twenty nationalities in that street." + +"And a little more besides," laughed Blackton. "If you could write the +complete story of how Tete Jaune has broken the law, Aldous, it would fill +a volume as big as Peggy's family Bible!" + +"And after all, it's funny," said Peggy Blackton. "There!" she cried +suddenly. "Isn't _that_ funny?" + +The glare and noisy life were on both sides of them now. Half a dozen +phonographs were going. From up the street came the softer strains of a +piano, and from in between the shrieking notes of bagpipe. Peggy Blackton +was pointing to a brilliantly lighted, black-tarpaulined shop. Huge white +letters on its front announced that Lady Barbers were within. They could +see two of them at work through the big window. And they were pretty. The +place was crowded with men. Men were waiting outside. + +"Paul says they charge a dollar for a haircut and fifty cents for a shave," +explained Peggy Blackton. "And the man over there across the street is +going broke because he can't get business at fifteen cents a shave. _Isn't_ +it funny?" + +As they went on Aldous searched the street for Quade. Several times he +turned to the back seat, and always he found Joanne's eyes questing in that +strange way for the some one whom she expected to see. Mrs. Blackton was +pointing out lighted places, and explaining things as they passed, but he +knew that in spite of her apparent attention Joanne heard only a part of +what she was saying. In that crowd she hoped--or feared--to find a certain +face. And again Aldous told himself that it was not Quade's face. + +Near the end of the street a crowd was gathering, and here, for a moment, +Blackton stopped his team within fifty feet of the objects of attraction. A +slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was standing beside a +huge brown bear. Her sleek black hair, shining as if it had been oiled, +fell in curls about her shoulders. Her rouged lips were smiling. Even at +that distance her black eyes sparkled like diamonds. She had evidently just +finished taking up a collection, for she was fastening the cord of a silken +purse about her neck. In another moment she bestrode the bear, the crowd +fell apart, and as the onlookers broke into a roar of applause the big +beast lumbered slowly up the street with its rider. + +"One of Culver Rann's friends," said Blackton _sotto voce_, as he drove on. +"She takes in a hundred a night if she makes a cent!" + +[Illustration: A slim, exquisitely formed woman in shimmering silk was +standing beside a huge brown bear. In another moment she bestrode the bear, +and the big beast lumbered up the street with its rider.] + +Blackton's big log bungalow was close to the engineers' camp half a mile +distant from the one lighted street and the hundreds of tents and shacks +that made up the residential part of the town. Not until they were inside, +and Peggy Blackton had disappeared with Joanne for a few moments, did +Aldous take old Donald MacDonald's note from his pocket. He pulled out the +quill, unfolded the bit of paper, and read the few crudely written words +the mountain man had sent him. Blackton turned in time to catch the sudden +amazement in his face. Crushing the note in his hand, Aldous looked at the +other, his mouth tightening. + +"You must help me make excuses, old man," he said quietly. "It will seem +strange to them if I do not stay for supper. But--it is impossible. I must +see old Donald as quickly as I can get to him." + +His manner more than his words kept Blackton from urging him to remain. The +contractor stared at him for a moment, his own eyes growing harder and more +direct. + +"It's about the shooting," he said. "If you want me to go with you, +Aldous----" + +"Thanks. That will be unnecessary." + +Peggy Blackton and Joanne were returning. Aldous turned toward them as they +entered the room. With the note still in his hand he repeated to them what +he had told Blackton--that he had received word which made it immediately +urgent for him to go to MacDonald. He shook hands with the Blacktons, +promising to be on hand for the four o'clock breakfast. + +Joanne followed him to the door and out upon the veranda. For a moment they +were alone, and now her eyes were wide and filled with fear as he clasped +her hands closely in his own. + +"I saw him," she whispered, her fingers tightening convulsively. "I saw +that man--Quade--at the station. He followed us up the street. Twice I +looked behind--and saw him. I am afraid--afraid to let you go back there. I +believe he is somewhere out there now--waiting for you!" + +She was frightened, trembling; and her fear for him, the fear in her +shining eyes, in her throbbing breath, in the clasp of her fingers, sent +through John Aldous a joy that almost made him free her hands and crush her +in his arms in the ecstasy of that wonderful moment. Then Peggy Blackton +and her husband appeared in the door. He released her hands, and stepped +out into the gloom. The cheery good-nights of the Blacktons followed him. +And Joanne's good-night was in her eyes--following him until he was gone, +filled with their entreaty and their fear. + +A hundred yards distant, where the trail split to lead to the camp of the +engineers, there was a lantern on a pole. Here Aldous paused, out of sight +of the Blackton bungalow, and in the dim light read again MacDonald's note. + +In a cramped and almost illegible hand the old wanderer of the mountains +had written: + + Don't go to cabin. Culver Rann waiting to kill you. Don't show + yorself in town. Cum to me as soon as you can on trail striking + north to Loon Lake. Watch yorself. Be ready with yor gun. + + DONALD MacDONALD. + +Aldous shoved the note in his pocket and slipped back out of the +lantern-glow into deep shadow. For several minutes he stood silent and +listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +As John Aldous stood hidden in the darkness, listening for the sound of a +footstep, Joanne's words still rang in his ears. "I believe he is out +there--waiting for you," she had said; and, chuckling softly in the gloom, +he told himself that nothing would give him more satisfaction than an +immediate and material proof of her fear. In the present moment he felt a +keen desire to confront Quade face to face out there in the lantern-glow, +and settle with the mottled beast once for all. The fact that Quade had +seen Joanne as the guest of the Blacktons hardened him in his +determination. Quade could no longer be in possible error regarding her. He +knew that she had friends, and that she was not of the kind who could be +made or induced to play his game and Culver Rann's. If he followed her +after this---- + +Aldous gritted his teeth and stared up and down the black trail. Five +minutes passed and he heard nothing that sounded like a footstep, and he +saw no moving shadow in the gloom. Slowly he continued along the road until +he came to where a narrow pack-trail swung north and east through the thick +spruce and balsam in the direction of Loon Lake. Remembering MacDonald's +warning, he kept his pistol in his hand. The moon was just beginning to +rise over the shoulder of a mountain, and after a little it lighted up the +more open spaces ahead of him. Now and then he paused, and turned to +listen. As he progressed with slowness and caution, his mind worked +swiftly. He knew that Donald MacDonald was the last man in the world to +write such a message as he had sent him through Blackton unless there had +been a tremendous reason for it. But why, he asked himself again and again, +should Culver Rann want to kill him? Rann knew nothing of Joanne. He had +not seen her. And surely Quade had not had time to formulate a plot with +his partner before MacDonald wrote his warning. Besides, an attempt had +been made to assassinate the old mountaineer! MacDonald had not warned him +against Quade. He had told him to guard himself against Rann. And what +reason could this Culver Rann have for doing him injury? The more he +thought of it the more puzzled he became. And then, in a flash, the +possible solution of it all came to him. + +Had Culver Rann discovered the secret mission on which he and the old +mountaineer were going into the North? Had he learned of the gold--where it +was to be found? And was their assassination the first step in a plot to +secure possession of the treasure? + +The blood in Aldous' veins ran faster. He gripped his pistol harder. More +closely he looked into the moonlit gloom of the trail ahead of him. He +believed that he had guessed the meaning of MacDonald's warning. It was the +gold! More than once thought of the yellow treasure far up in the North had +thrilled him, but never as it thrilled him now. Was the old tragedy of it +to be lived over again? Was it again to play its part in a terrible drama +of men's lives, as it had played it more than forty years ago? The gold! +The gold that for nearly half a century had lain with the bones of its +dead, alone with its terrible secret, alone until Donald MacDonald had +found it again! He had not told Joanne the story of it, the appalling and +almost unbelievable tragedy of it. He had meant to do so. But they had +talked of other things. He had meant to tell her that it was not the gold +itself that was luring him far to the north--that it was not the gold alone +that was taking Donald MacDonald back to it. + +And now, as he stood for a moment listening to the low sweep of the wind in +the spruce-tops, it seemed to him that the night was filled with whispering +voices of that long-ago--and he shivered, and held his breath. A cloud had +drifted under the moon. For a few moments it was pitch dark. The fingers of +his hand dug into the rough bark of a spruce. He did not move. It was then +that he heard something above the caressing rustle of the wind in the +spruce-tops. + +It came to him faintly, from full half a mile deeper in the black forest +that reached down to the bank of the Frazer. It was the night call of an +owl--one of the big gray owls that turned white as the snow in winter. +Mentally he counted the notes in the call. One, two, three, _four_--and a +flood of relief swept over him. It was MacDonald. They had used that signal +in their hunting, when they had wished to locate each other without +frightening game. Always there were three notes in the big gray owl's +quavering cry. The fourth was human. He put his hands to his mouth and sent +back an answer, emphasizing the fourth note. The light breeze had died down +for a moment, and Aldous heard the old mountaineer's reply as it floated +faintly back to him through the forest. Continuing to hold his pistol, he +went on, this time more swiftly. + +MacDonald did not signal again. The moon was climbing rapidly into the sky, +and with each passing minute the night was becoming lighter. He had gone +half a mile when he stopped again and signalled softly. MacDonald's voice +answered, so near that for an instant the automatic flashed in the +moonlight. Aldous stepped out where the trail had widened into a small open +spot. Half a dozen paces from him, in the bright flood of the moon, stood +Donald MacDonald. + +The night, the moon-glow, the tense attitude of his waiting added to the +weirdness of the picture which the old wanderer of the mountains made as +Aldous faced him. MacDonald was tall; some trick of the night made him +appear almost unhumanly tall as he stood in the centre of that tiny moonlit +amphitheatre. His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders drooped a +little, for he was old. A thick, shaggy beard fell in a silvery sheen over +his breast. His hair, gray as the underwing of the owl whose note he +forged, straggled in uncut disarray from under the drooping rim of a +battered and weatherworn hat. His coat was of buckskin, and it was short at +the sleeves--four inches too short; and the legs of his trousers were cut +off between the knees and the ankles, giving him a still greater appearance +of height. + +In the crook of his arm MacDonald held a rifle, a strange-looking, +long-barrelled rifle of a type a quarter of a century old. And Donald +MacDonald, in the picture he made, was like his gun, old and gray and +ghostly, as if he had risen out of some graveyard of the past to warm +himself in the yellow splendour of the moon. But in the grayness and +gauntness of him there was something that was mightier than the strength of +youth. He was alert. In the crook of his arm there was caution. His eyes +were as keen as the eyes of an animal. His shoulders spoke of a strength +but little impaired by the years. Ghostly gray beard, ghostly gray hair, +haunting eyes that gleamed, all added to the strange and weird +impressiveness of the man as he stood before Aldous. And when he spoke, his +voice had in it the deep, low, cavernous note of a partridge's drumming. + +"I'm glad you've come, Aldous," he said. "I've been waiting ever since the +train come in. I was afraid you'd go to the cabin!" + +Aldous stepped forth and gripped the old mountaineer's outstretched hand. +There was intense relief in Donald's eyes. + +"I got a little camp back here in the bush," he went on, nodding riverward. +"It's safer 'n the shack these days. Yo're sure--there ain't no one +following?" + +"Quite certain," assured Aldous. "Look here, MacDonald--what in thunder has +happened? Don't continue my suspense! Who shot you? Why did you warn me?" + +Deep in his beard the old hunter laughed. + +"Same fellow as would have shot you, I guess," he answered. "They made a +bad job of it, Johnny, an awful bad job, an' mebby there'd been a better +man layin' for you!" + +He was pulling Aldous in the bush as he spoke. For ten minutes he dived on +ahead through a jungle in which there was no trail. Suddenly he turned, +led the way around the edge of a huge mass of rock, and paused a moment +later before a small smouldering fire. Against the face of a gigantic +boulder was a balsam shelter. A few cooking utensils were scattered about. +It was evident that MacDonald had been living here for several days. + +"Looks as though I'd run away, don't it, Johnny?" he asked, laughing in his +curious, chuckling way again. "An' so I did, boy. From the mountain up +there I've been watching things through my telescope--been keepin' quiet +since Doc pulled the bullet out. I've been layin' for the Breed. I wanted +him to think I'd vamoosed. I'm goin' to kill him!" + +He had squatted down before the fire, his long rifle across his knees, and +spoke as quietly as though he was talking of a partridge or a squirrel +instead of a human being. He wormed a hand into one of his pockets and +produced a small dark object which he handed to Aldous The other felt an +uncanny chill as it touched his fingers. It was a mis-shapened bullet. + +"Doc gave me the lead," continued MacDonald coolly, beginning to slice a +pipeful of tobacco from a tar-black plug. "It come from Joe's gun. I've +hunted with him enough to know his bullet. He fired through the window of +the cabin. If it hadn't been for the broom handle--just the end of it +stickin' up"--he shrugged his gaunt shoulders as he stuffed the tobacco +into the bowl of his pipe--"I'd been dead!" he finished tersely. + +"You mean that Joe----" + +"Has sold himself to Culver Rann!" exclaimed MacDonald. He sprang to his +feet. For the first time he showed excitement. His eyes blazed with +repressed rage. A hand gripped the barrel of his rifle as if to crush it. +"He's sold himself to Culver Rann!" he repeated. "He's sold him our secret. +He's told him where the gold is, Johnny! He's bargained to guide Rann an' +his crowd to it! An' first--they're goin' to kill _us!_" + +With a low whistle Aldous took off his hat. He ran a hand through his +blond-gray hair. Then he replaced his hat and drew two cigars from his +pocket. MacDonald accepted one. Aldous' eyes were glittering; his lips were +smiling. + +"They are, are they, Donald? They're going to kill us?" + +"They're goin' to try," amended the old hunter, with another curious +chuckle in his ghostly beard. "They're goin' to try, Johnny. That's why I +told you not to go to the cabin. I wasn't expecting you for a week. +To-morrow I was goin' to start on a hike for Miette. I been watching +through my telescope from the mountain up there. I see Quade come in this +morning on a hand-car. Twice I see him and Rann together. Then I saw +Blackton hike out into the bush. I was worrying about you an' wondered if +he had any word. So I laid for him on the trail--an' I guess it was lucky. +I ain't been able to set my eyes on Joe. I looked for hours through the +telescope--an' I couldn't find him. He's gone, or Culver Rann is keeping +him out of sight." + +For several moments Aldous looked at his companion in silence. Then he +said: + +"You're sure of all this, are you, Donald? You have good proof--that Joe +has turned traitor?" + +"I've been suspicious of him ever since we come down from the North," +spoke MacDonald slowly. "I watched him--night an' day. I was afraid he'd +get a grubstake an' start back alone. Then I saw him with Culver Rann. It +was late. I heard 'im leave the shack, an' I followed. He went to Rann's +house--an' Rann was expecting him. Three times I followed him to Culver +Rann's house. I knew what was happening then, an' I planned to get him back +in the mountains on a hunt, an' kill him. But I was too late. The shot came +through the window. Then he disappeared. An'--Culver Rann is getting an +outfit together! Twenty head of horses, with grub for three months!" + +"The deuce! And our outfit? Is it ready?" + +"To the last can o' beans!" + +"And your plan, Donald?" + +All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as he +came nearer to Aldous. + +"Get out of Tete Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice that +quivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into the +mountains with our outfit--far enough back--and then wait!" + +"Wait?" + +"Yes--wait. If they follow us--_fight!_" + +Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily they +looked into each other's eyes. + +Then John Aldous spoke: + +"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night--it is +impossible." + +The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop came +into MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despair +settled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's hand +more firmly. + +"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight," he said quickly. "Only we've +got to plan differently. Sit down, Donald. Something has been happening to +me. And I'm going to tell you about it." + +A little back from the fire they seated themselves, and Aldous told Donald +MacDonald about Joanne. + +He began at the beginning, from the moment his eyes first saw her as she +entered Quade's place. He left nothing out. He told how she had come into +his life, and how he intended to fight to keep her from going out of it. He +told of his fears, his hopes, the mystery of their coming to Tete Jaune, +and how Quade had preceded them to plot the destruction of the woman he +loved. He described her as she had stood that morning, like a radiant +goddess in the sun; and when he came to that he leaned nearer, and said +softly: + +"And when I saw her there, Donald, with her hair streaming about her like +that, I thought of the time you told me of that other woman--the woman of +years and years ago--and how you, Donald, used to look upon her in the sun, +and rejoice in your possession. Her spirit has been with you always. You +have told me how for nearly fifty years you have followed it over these +mountains. And this woman means as much to me. If she should die to-night +her spirit would live with me in that same way. You understand, Donald. I +can't go into the mountains to-night. God knows when I can go--now. But +you----" + +MacDonald had risen. He turned his face to the black wall of the forest. +Aldous thought he saw a sudden quiver pass through the great, bent +shoulders. + +"And I," said MacDonald slowly, "will have the horses ready for you at +dawn. We will fight this other fight--later." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +For an hour after Donald MacDonald had pledged himself to accompany Joanne +and Aldous on their pilgrimage to the grave in the Saw Tooth Range the two +men continued to discuss the unusual complications in which they had +suddenly become involved, and at the same time prepared themselves a supper +of bacon and coffee over the fire. They agreed upon a plan of action with +one exception. Aldous was determined to return to the town, arguing there +was a good strategic reason for showing himself openly and without fear. +MacDonald opposed this apprehensively. + +"Better lay quiet until morning," he expostulated. "You'd better listen to +me, an' do that, Johnny. I've got something in my shoulder that tells me +you'd better!" + +In the face of the old hunter's misgiving, Aldous prepared to leave. It was +nearly ten o'clock when he set back in the direction of Tete Jaune, Donald +accompanying him as far as the moonlit amphitheatre in the forest. There +they separated, and Aldous went on alone. + +He believed that Joanne and the Blacktons would half expect him to return +to the bungalow after he had seen MacDonald. He was sure that Blackton, at +least, would look for him until quite late. The temptation to take +advantage of their hospitality was great, especially as it would bring him +in the company of Joanne again. On the other hand, he was certain that this +first night in Tete Jaune held very large possibilities for him. The +detective instinct in him was roused, and his adventurous spirit was alive +for action. First of all, he wanted proof of what MacDonald had told him. +That an attempt had been made to assassinate the old mountaineer he did not +for an instant doubt. But had Joe DeBar, the half-breed, actually betrayed +them? Had he sold himself to Culver Rann, and did Rann hold the key to the +secret expedition they had planned into the North? He did not, at first, +care to see Rann. He made up his mind that if he did meet him he would stop +and chat casually with him, as though he had heard and seen nothing to +rouse his suspicions. He particularly wanted to find DeBar; and, next to +DeBar, Quade himself. + +The night carnival was at its height when Aldous re-entered the long, +lighted street. From ten until eleven was the liveliest hour of the night. +Even the restaurants and soup-kitchens were crowded then. He strolled +slowly down the street until he came to a little crowd gathered about the +bear equestrienne. The big canvas dance-hall a few doors away had lured +from her most of her admirers by this time, and Aldous found no difficulty +in reaching the inner circle. He looked first for the half-breed. Failing +to find him, he looked at the woman, who stood only a few feet from him. +Her glossy black curls were a bit dishevelled, and the excitement of the +night had added to the vivid colouring of her rouged lips and cheeks. Her +body was sleek and sinuous in its silken vesture; arms and shoulders were +startlingly white; and when she turned, facing Aldous, her black eyes +flashed fires of deviltry and allurement. + +For a moment he stared into her face. If he had not been looking closely he +would not have caught the swift change that shot into the siren-like play +of her orbs. It was almost instantaneous. Her slow-travelling glance +stopped as she saw him. He saw the quick intake of her breath, a sudden +compression of her lips, the startled, searching scrutiny of a pair of eyes +from which, for a moment, all the languor and coquetry of her trade were +gone. Then she passed him, smiling again, nodding, sweeping a hand and arm +effectively through her handsome curls as she flung a shapely limb over the +broad back of the bear. In a garish sort of way the woman was beautiful, +and this night, as on all others, her beauty had nearly filled the silken +coin-bag suspended from her neck. As she rode down the street Aldous +recalled Blackton's words: She was a friend of Culver Rann's. He wondered +if this fact accounted for the strangeness of the look she had given him. + +He passed on to the dance-hall. It was crowded, mostly with men. But here +and there, like so many faces peering forth from living graves, he saw the +Little Sisters of Tete Jaune Cache. Outnumbered ten to one, their voices +rang out in shrill banter and delirious laughter above the rumble of men. +At the far end, a fiddle, a piano, and a clarinet were squealing forth +music. The place smelled strongly of whisky. It always smelled of that, for +most of the men who sought amusement here got their whisky in spite of the +law. There were rock-hogs from up the line, and rock-hogs from down the +line, men of all nationalities and of almost all ages; teamsters, +trail-cutters, packers, and rough-shod navvies; men whose daily task was to +play with dynamite and giant powder; steel-men, tie-men, and men who +drilled into the hearts of mountains. More than once John Aldous had looked +upon this same scene, and had listened to the trample and roar and wild +revelry of it, marvelling that to-morrow the men of this saturnalia would +again be the builders of an empire. The thin, hollow-cheeked faces that +passed and repassed him, rouged and smiling, could not destroy in his mind +the strength of the picture. They were but moths, fluttering about in their +own doom, contending with each other to see which should quickest achieve +destruction. + +For several minutes Aldous scanned the faces in the big tent-hall, and +nowhere did he see DeBar. He dropped out, and continued leisurely along the +lighted way until he came to Lovak's huge black-and-white striped +soup-tent. At ten o'clock, and until twelve, this was as crowded as the +dance-hall. Aldous knew Lovak, the Hungarian. + +Through Lovak he had found the key that had unlocked for him many curious +and interesting things associated with that powerful Left Arm of the Empire +Builders--the Slav. Except for a sprinkling of Germans, a few Italians, and +now and then a Greek or Swiss, only the Slavs filled Lovak's place!--Slavs +from all the Russias and the nations south: the quick and chattering Polak; +the thick-set, heavy-jowled Croatian; the silent and dangerous-eyed +Lithuanian. All came in for Lovak's wonderful soup, which he sold in big +yellow bowls at ten cents a bowl--soup of barley, rice, and cabbage, of +beef and mutton, of everything procurable out of which soup could be made, +and, whether of meat or vegetable, smelling to heaven of garlic. + +Fifty men were eating when Aldous went in, devouring their soup with the +utter abandon and joy of the Galician, so that the noise they made was like +the noise of fifty pigs at fifty troughs. Now and then DeBar, the +half-breed, came here for soup, and Aldous searched quickly for him. He was +turning to go when his friend, Lovak, came to him. No, Lovak had not seen +DeBar. But he had news. That day the authorities--the police--had +confiscated twenty dressed hogs, and in each porcine carcass they had found +four-quart bottles of whisky, artistically imbedded in the leaf-lard fat. +The day before those same authorities had confiscated a barrel of +"kerosene." They were becoming altogether too officious, Lovak thought. + +Aldous went on. He looked in at a dozen restaurants, and twice as many +soft-drink emporiums, where phonographs were worked until they were cracked +and dizzy. He stopped at a small tobacco shop, and entered to buy himself +some cigars. There was one other customer ahead of him. He was lighting a +cigar, and the light of a big hanging lamp flashed on a diamond ring. Over +his sputtering match his eyes met those of John Aldous. They were dark +eyes, neither brown nor black, but dark, with the keenness and strange +glitter of a serpent's. He wore a small, clipped moustache; his hands were +white; he was a man whom one might expect to possess the _sang froid_ of a +devil in any emergency. For barely an instant he hesitated in the operation +of lighting his cigar as he saw Aldous. Then he nodded. + +"Hello, John Aldous," he said. + +"Good evening, Culver Rann," replied Aldous. + +For a moment his nerves had tingled--the next they were like steel. Culver +Rann's teeth gleamed. Aldous smiled back. They were cold, hard, rapierlike +glances. Each understood now that the other was a deadly enemy, for Quade's +enemies were also Culver Rann's. Aldous moved carelessly to the glass case +in which were the cigars. With the barest touch of one of his slim white +hands Culver Rann stopped him. + +"Have one of mine, Aldous," he invited, opening a silver case filled with +cigars. "We've never had the pleasure of smoking together, you know." + +"Never," said Aldous, accepting one of the cigars. "Thanks." + +As he lighted it, their eyes met again. Aldous turned to the case. + +"Half a dozen 'Noblemen,'" he said to the man behind the counter; then, to +Rann: "Will you have one on me?" + +"With pleasure," said Rann. He added, smiling straight into the other's +eyes, "What are you doing up here, Aldous? After local colour?" + +"Perhaps. The place interests me." + +"It's a lively town." + +"Decidedly. And I understand that you've played an important part in the +making of it," replied Aldous carelessly. + +For a flash Rann's eyes darkened, and his mouth hardened, then his white +teeth gleamed again. He had caught the insinuation, and he had scarcely +been able to ward off the shot. + +"I've tried to do my small share," he admitted. "If you're after local +colour for your books, Aldous, I possibly may be able to assist you--if +you're in town long." + +"Undoubtedly you could," said Aldous. "I think you could tell me a great +deal that I would like to know, Rann. But--will you?" + +There was a direct challenge in his coldly smiling eyes. + +"Yes, I think I shall be quite pleased to do so," said Rann. +"Especially--if you are long in town." There was an odd emphasis on those +last words. + +He moved toward the door. + +"And if you are here very long," he added, his eyes gleaming significantly, +"it is possible you may have experiences of your own which would make very +interesting reading if they ever got into print. Good-night, Aldous!" + +For two or three minutes after Rann had gone Aldous loitered in the tobacco +shop. Then he went out. All at once it struck him that he should have kept +his eyes on Quade's partner. He should have followed him. With the hope of +seeing him again he walked up and down the street. It was eleven o'clock +when he went into Big Ben's pool-room. Five minutes later he came out just +as a woman hurried past him, carrying with her a strong scent of perfume. +It was the Lady of the Bear. She was in a street dress now, her glossy +curls still falling loose about her--probably homeward bound after her +night's harvest. It struck Aldous that the hour was early for her +retirement, and that she seemed somewhat in a hurry. + +The woman was going in the direction of Rann's big log bungalow, which was +built well out of town toward the river. She had not seen him as he stood +in the pool-room doorway, and before she had passed out of sight he was +following her. There were a dozen branch trails and "streets" on the way to +Rann's, and into the gloom of some one of these the woman disappeared, so +that Aldous lost her entirely. He was not disappointed when he found she +had left the main trail. + +Five minutes later he stood close to Rann's house. From the side on which +he had approached it was dark. No gleam of light showed through the +windows. Slowly he walked around the building, and stopped suddenly on the +opposite side. Here a closely drawn curtain was illuminated by a glow from +within. Cautiously Aldous made his way along the log wall of the house +until he came to the window. At one side the curtain had caught against +some object, leaving perhaps a quarter of an inch of space through which +the light shone. Aldous brought his eyes on a level with this space. + +A half of the room came within his vision. Directly in front of him, +lighted by a curiously shaped iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, was a +dull red mahogany desk-table. At one side of this, partly facing him, was +Culver Rann. Opposite him sat Quade. + +Rann was speaking, while Quade, with his bullish shoulders hunched forward +and his fleshy red neck, rolling over the collar of his coat, leaned across +the table in a tense and listening attitude. With his eyes glued to the +aperture, Aldous strained his ears to catch what Rann was saying. He heard +only the low and unintelligible monotone of his voice. A mocking smile was +accompanying Rann's words. To-night, as at all times, this hawk who preyed +upon human lives was immaculate. In all ways but one he was the antithesis +of the beefy scoundrel who sat opposite him. On the hand that toyed +carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in +his cravat. His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little +moustache was clipped in the latest fashion. He was not large. His hands, +as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness. Casually, on +the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman. +Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain +and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous +men in all the West. Quade was a villain. Culver Rann, quiet and cool and +suave, was a devil. Behind his depravity worked the brain which Quade +lacked, and a nerve which, in spite of that almost effeminate +immaculateness, had been described to Aldous as colossal. + +Suddenly Quade turned, and Aldous saw that he was flushed and excited. He +struck the desk a blow with his fist. Culver Rann leaned back and smiled. +And John Aldous slipped away from the window. + +His nerves were quivering; in the darkness he unbuttoned the pocket that +held his automatic. Through the window he had seen an open door behind +Rann, and his blood thrilled with the idea that had come to him. He was +sure the two partners in crime were discussing himself and MacDonald--and +Joanne. To hear what they were saying, to discover their plot, would be +three quarters of the fight won, if it came to a fight. The open door was +an inspiration. + +Swiftly and silently he went to the rear of the house. He tried the door +and found it unlocked. Softly he opened it, swinging it inward an inch at +a time, and scarcely breathing as he entered. It was dark, and there was a +second closed door ahead of him. From beyond that he heard voices. He +closed the outer door so that he would not be betrayed by a current of air +or a sound from out of the night. Then, even more cautiously and slowly, he +began to open the second door. + +An inch at first, then two inches, three inches--a foot--he worked the door +inward. There was no light in this second room, and he lay close to the +floor, head and shoulders thrust well in. Through the third and open door +he saw Quade and Culver Rann. Rann was laughing softly as he lighted a +fresh cigar. His voice was quiet and good humoured, but filled with a +banter which it was evident Quade was not appreciating. + +"You amaze me," Rann was saying. "You amaze me utterly. You've gone +mad--mad as a rock-rabbit, Quade! Do you mean to tell me you're on the +square when you offer to turn over a half of your share in the gold if I +help you to get this woman?" + +"I do," replied Quade thickly. "I mean just that! And we'll put it down in +black an' white--here, now. You fix the papers, same as any other deal, and +I'll sign!" + +For a moment Culver Rann did not reply. He leaned back in his chair, thrust +the thumbs of his white hands in his vest, and sent a cloud of smoke above +his head. Then he looked at Quade, a gleam of humour in his eyes. + +"Nothing like a woman for turning a man's head soft," he chuckled. "Nothing +in the world like it, 'pon my word, Quade. First it was DeBar. I don't +believe we'd got him if he hadn't seen Marie riding her bear. Marie and +her curls and her silk tights, Quade--s'elp me, it wouldn't have surprised +me so much if you'd fallen in love with _her!_ And over this other woman +you're as mad as Joe is over Marie. At first sight he was ready to sell his +soul for her. So--I gave Marie to him. And now, for some other woman, +you're just as anxious to surrender a half of your share of what we've +bought through Marie. Good heaven, man, if you were in love with Marie----" + +"Damn Marie!" growled Quade. "I know the time when you were bugs over her +yourself, Rann. It wasn't so long ago. If I'd looked at her then----" + +"Of course, not then," interrupted Rann smilingly. "That would have been +impolite, Quade, and not at all in agreement with the spirit of our +brotherly partnership. And, you must admit, Marie is a devilish +good-looking girl. I've surrendered her only for a brief spell to DeBar. +After he has taken us to the gold--why, the poor idiot will probably have +been sufficiently happy to----" + +He paused, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. + +"--go into cold storage," finished Quade. + +"Exactly." + +Again Quade leaned over the table, and for a moment there was silence, a +silence in which Aldous thought the pounding of his heart must betray him. +He lay motionless on the floor. The nails of his fingers dug into the bare +wood. Under the palm of his right hand lay his automatic. + +Then Quade spoke. There must have been more in his face than was spoken in +his words, for Culver Rann took the cigar from between his lips, and a +light that was deadly serious slowly filled his eyes. + +"Rann, we'll talk business!" Quade's voice was harsh, deep, and quivering. +"I want this woman. I may be a fool, but I'm going to have her. I might get +her alone, but we've always done things together--an' so I made you that +proposition. It ain't a hard job. It's one of the easiest jobs we ever had. +Only that fool of a writer is in the way--an' he's got to go anyway. We've +got to get rid of him on account of the gold, him an' MacDonald. We've got +that planned. An' I've showed you how we can get the woman, an' no one ever +know. Are you in on this with me?" + +Culver Rann's reply was as quick and sharp as a pistol shot. + +"I am." + +For another moment there was silence. Then Quade asked: + +"Any need of writin', Culver?" + +"No. There can't be a written agreement in this deal because--it's +dangerous. There won't be much said about old MacDonald. But questions, a +good many of them, will be asked about this man Aldous. As for the +woman----" Rann shrugged his shoulders with a sinister smile. "She will +disappear like the others," he finished. "No one will ever get on to that. +If she doesn't make a pal like Marie--after a time, why----" + +Again Aldous saw that peculiar shrug of his shoulders. + +Quade's head nodded on his thick neck. + +"Of course, I agree to that," he said. "After a time. But most of 'em have +come over, ain't they, Culver? Eh? Most of 'em have," he chuckled coarsely. +"When you see her you won't call me a fool for going dippy over her, +Culver. And she'll come round all right after she's gone through what we've +got planned for her. I'll make a pal of her!" + +In that moment, as he listened to the gloating passion and triumph in +Quade's brutal voice, something broke in the brain of John Aldous. It +filled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought or +plan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a single +desire--the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged through +him, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth in +animal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that the +others did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hear +the slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol. + +For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensed +the words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to kill +them. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that he +might kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. He +wanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment when +they would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. He +would give them that one moment of life--just that one. Then he would kill. + +With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room. + +"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself +there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver +Rann. The latter sat stunned. Not the movement of a finger broke the +stonelike immobility of his attitude. His eyes were like two dark coals +gazing steadily as a serpent's over Quade's hunched shoulders and bowed +head. Quade seemed as if frozen on the point of speaking to Rann. One hand +was still poised a foot above the table. It was he who broke the tense and +lifeless tableau. + +Slowly, almost as slowly as Aldous had opened the door, Quade turned his +head, and stared into the coldly smiling face of the man whom he had +plotted to kill, and saw the gleaming pistol in his hand. A curious look +overcame his pouchy face, a look not altogether of terror--but of shock. He +knew Aldous had heard. He accepted in an instant, and perceptibly, the +significance of the pistol in his hand. But Culver Rann sat like a rock. +His face expressed nothing. Not for the smallest part of a second had he +betrayed any emotion that might be throbbing within him. In spite of +himself Aldous admired the man's unflinching nerve. + +"Good evening, gentlemen!" he repeated. + +Then Rann leaned slowly forward over the table. One hand rose to his +moustache. It was his right hand. The other was invisible. Quade pulled +himself together and stepped to the end of the table, his two empty hands +in front of him. Aldous, still smiling, faced Rann's glittering eyes and +covered him with his automatic. Culver Rann twisted the end of his +moustache, and smiled back. + +"Well?" he said. "Is it checkmate?" + +"It is," replied Aldous. "I've promised you scoundrels one minute of life. +I guess that minute is about up." + +The last word was scarcely out of his mouth when the room was in +darkness--a darkness so complete and sudden that for an instant his hand +faltered, and in that instant he heard the overturning of a chair and the +falling of a body. Twice his automatic sent a lightning-flash of fire where +Culver Rann had sat; twice it spat threadlike ribbons of flame through the +blackness where Quade had stood. He knew what had happened, and also what +to expect if he lost out now. The curiously shaped iron lamp had concealed +an electric bulb, and Rann had turned off the switch-key under the table. +He had no further time to think. An object came hurtling through the thick +gloom and fell with terrific force on his outstretched pistol arm. His +automatic flew from his hand and struck against the wall. Unarmed, he +sprang back toward the open door--full into the arms of Quade! + +Aldous knew that it was Quade and not Culver Rann, and he struck out with +all the force he could gather in a short-arm blow. His fist landed against +Quade's thick neck. Again and again he struck, and Quade's grip loosened. +In another moment he would have reached the door if Rann had not caught him +from behind. Never had Aldous felt the clutch of hands like those of the +womanish hands of Culver Rann. It was as if sinuous fingers of steel were +burying themselves in his flesh. Before they found his throat he flung +himself backward with all his weight, and with a tremendous effort freed +himself. + +Both Quade and Culver Rann now stood between him and the door. He could +hear Quade's deep, panting breath. Rann, as before, was silent as death. +Then he heard the door close. A key clicked in the lock. He was trapped. + +"Turn on the light, Billy," he heard Rann say in a quiet, unexcited voice. +"We've got this house-breaker cornered, and he's lost his gun. Turn on the +light--and I'll make one shot do the business!" + +Aldous heard Quade moving, but he was not coming toward the table. +Somewhere in the room was another switch connected with the iron lamp, and +Aldous felt a curious chill shoot up his spine. Without seeing through that +pitch darkness of the room he sensed the fact that Culver Rann was standing +with his back against the locked door, a revolver in his hand. And he knew +that Quade, feeling his way along the wall, held a revolver in his hand. +Men like these two did not go unarmed. The instant the light was turned on +they would do their work. As he stood, silent as Culver Rann, he realized +the tables were turned. In that moment's madness roused by Quade's gloating +assurance of possessing Joanne he had revealed himself like a fool, and now +he was about to reap the whirlwind of his folly. Deliberately he had given +himself up to his enemies. They, too, would be fools if they allowed him to +escape alive. + +He heard Quade stop. His thick hand was fumbling along the wall. Aldous +guessed that he was feeling for the switch. He almost fancied he could see +Rann's revolver levelled at him through the darkness. In that thrilling +moment his mind worked with the swiftness of a powder flash. One of his +hands touched the edge of the desk-table, and he knew that he was standing +directly opposite the curtained window, perhaps six feet from it. If he +flung himself through the window the curtain would save him from being cut +to pieces. + +No sooner had the idea of escape come to him than he had acted. A flood of +light filled the room as his body crashed through the glass. He heard a +cry--a single shot--as he struck the ground. He gathered himself up and ran +swiftly. Fifty yards away he stopped, and looked back. Quade and Rann were +in the window. Then they disappeared, and a moment later the room was again +in gloom. + +For a second time Aldous hurried in the direction of MacDonald's camp. He +knew that, in spite of the protecting curtain, the glass had cut him. He +felt the warm blood dripping over his face; both hands were wet with it, +The arm on which he had received the blow from the unseen object in the +room gave him considerable pain, and he had slightly sprained an ankle in +his leap through the window, so that he limped a little. But his mind was +clear--so clear that in the face of his physical discomfort he caught +himself laughing once or twice as he made his way along the trail. + +Aldous was not of an ordinary type. To a curious and superlative degree he +could appreciate a defeat as well as a triumph. His adventures had been a +part of a life in which he had not always expected to win, and in +to-night's game he admitted that he had been hopelessly and ridiculously +beaten. Tragedy, to him, was a first cousin of comedy; to-night he had set +out to kill, and, instead of killing, he had run like a jack-rabbit for +cover. Also, in that same half-hour Rann and Quade had been sure of him, +and he had given them the surprise of their lives by his catapultic +disappearance through the window. There was something ludicrous about it +all--something that, to him, at least, had turned a possible tragedy into a +very good comedy-drama. + +Nor was Aldous blind to the fact that he had made an utter fool of himself, +and that the consequences of his indiscretion might prove extremely +serious. Had he listened to the conspirators without betraying himself he +would have possessed an important advantage over them. The knowledge he had +gained from overhearing their conversation would have made it comparatively +easy for MacDonald and him to strike them a perhaps fatal blow through the +half-breed DeBar. As the situation stood now, he figured that Quade and +Culver Rann held the advantage. Whatever they had planned to do they would +put into quick execution. They would not lose a minute. + +It was not for himself that Aldous feared. Neither did he fear for Joanne. +Every drop of red fighting blood in him was ready for further action, and +he was determined that Quade should find no opportunity of accomplishing +any scheme he might have against Joanne's person. On the other hand, unless +they could head off DeBar, he believed that Culver Rann's chances of +reaching the gold ahead of them would grow better with the passing of each +hour. To protect Joanne from Quade he must lose no time. MacDonald would +be in the same predicament, while Rann, assisted by as many rascals of his +own colour as he chose to take with him, would be free to carry out the +other part of the conspirators' plans. + +The longer he thought of the mess he had stirred up the more roundly Aldous +cursed his imprudence. And this mess, as he viewed it in these cooler +moments, was even less disturbing than the thought of what might have +happened had he succeeded in his intention of killing both Quade and Rann. +Twenty times as he made his way through the darkness toward MacDonald's +camp he told himself that he must have been mad. To have killed Rann or +Quade in self-defence, or in open fight, would have been playing the game +with a shadow of mountain law behind it. But he had invaded Rann's home. +Had he killed them he would have had but little more excuse than a +house-breaker or a suspicious husband might have had. Tete Jaune would not +countenance cold-blooded shooting, even of criminals. He should have taken +old Donald's advice and waited until they were in the mountains. An +unpleasant chill ran through him as he thought of the narrowness of his +double escape. + +To his surprise, John Aldous found MacDonald awake when he arrived at the +camp in the thickly timbered coulee. He was preparing a midnight cup of +coffee over a fire that was burning cheerfully between two big rocks. +Purposely Aldous stepped out into the full illumination of it. The old +hunter looked up. For a moment he stared into the blood-smeared face of his +friend; then he sprang to his feet, and caught him by the arm. + +"Yes, I got it," nodded Aldous cheerfully. "I went out for it, Mac, and I +got it! Get out your emergency kit, will you? I rather fancy I need a +little patching up." + +MacDonald uttered not a word. From the balsam lean-to he brought out a +small rubber bag and a towel. Into a canvas wash-basin he then turned a +half pail of cold water, and Aldous got on his knees beside this. Not once +did the old mountaineer speak while he was washing the blood from Aldous' +face and hands. There was a shallow two-inch cut in his forehead, two +deeper ones in his right cheek, and a gouge in his chin. There were a dozen +cuts on his hands, none of them serious. Before he had finished MacDonald +had used two thirds of a roll of court-plaster. + +Then he spoke. + +"You can soak them off in the morning," he said. "If you don't, the lady'll +think yo're a red Indian on the warpath. Now, yo' fool, what have yo' gone +an' done?" + +Aldous told him what had happened, and before MacDonald could utter an +expression of his feelings he admitted that he was an inexcusable idiot and +that nothing MacDonald might say could drive that fact deeper home. + +"If I'd come out after hearing what they had to say, we could have got +DeBar at the end of a gun and settled the whole business," he finished. "As +it is, we're in a mess." + +MacDonald stretched his gaunt gray frame before the fire. He picked up his +long rifle, and fingered the lock. + +"You figger they'll get away with DeBar?" + +"Yes, to-night." + +MacDonald threw open the breech of his single-loader and drew out a +cartridge as long as his finger. Replacing it, he snapped the breech shut. + +"Don't know as I'm pertic'lar sad over what's happened," he said, with a +curious look at Aldous. "We might have got out of this without what you +call strenu'us trouble. Now--it's _fight!_ It's goin' to be a matter of +guns an' bullets, Johnny--back in the mountains. You figger Rann an' the +snake of a half-breed'll get the start of us. Let 'em have a start! They've +got two hundred miles to go, an' two hundred miles to come back. Only--they +won't come back!" + +Under his shaggy brows the old hunter's eyes gleamed as he looked at +Aldous. + +"To-morrow we'll go to the grave," he added. "Yo're cur'ous to know what's +goin' to happen when we find that grave, Johnny. So am I. I hope----" + +"What do you hope?" + +MacDonald shook his great gray head in the dying firelight. + +"Let's go to bed, Johnny," he rumbled softly in his beard. "It's gettin' +late." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +To sleep after the excitement through which he had passed, and with +to-morrow's uncertainties ahead of him, seemed to Aldous a physical +impossibility. Yet he slept, and soundly. It was MacDonald who roused him +three hours later. They prepared a quick breakfast over a small fire, and +Aldous heated water in which he soaked his face until the strips of +court-plaster peeled off. The scratches were lividly evident, but, inasmuch +as he had a choice of but two evils, he preferred that Joanne should see +these instead of the abominable disfigurement of court-plaster strips. + +Old Donald took one look at him through half-closed eyes. + +"You look as though you'd come out of a tussle with a grizzly," he grinned. +"Want some fresh court-plaster?" + +"And look as though I'd come out of a circus--no!" retorted Aldous. "I'm +invited to breakfast at the Blacktons', Mac. How the devil am I going to +get out of it?" + +"Tell 'em you're sick," chuckled the old hunter, who saw something funny in +the appearance of Aldous' face. "Good Lord, how I'd liked to have seen you +come through that window--in daylight!" + +Aldous led off in the direction of the trail. MacDonald followed close +behind him. It was dark--that almost ebon-black hour that precedes summer +dawn in the northern mountains. The moon had long ago disappeared in the +west. When a few minutes later they paused in the little opening on the +trail Aldous could just make out the shadowy form of the old mountaineer. + +"I lost my gun when I jumped through the window, Mac," he explained. +"There's another thirty-eight automatic in my kit at the corral. Bring +that, and the .303 with the gold-bead sight--and plenty of ammunition. +You'd better take that forty-four hip-cannon of yours along, as well as +your rifle. Wish I could civilize you, Mac, so you'd carry one of the +Savage automatics instead of that old brain-storm of fifty years ago!" + +MacDonald gave a grunt of disgust that was like the whoof of a bear. + +"It's done business all that time," he growled good humouredly. "An' it +ain't ever made me jump through any window as I remember of, Johnny!" + +"Enough," said Aldous, and in the gloom he gripped the other's hand. +"You'll be there, Mac--in front of the Blacktons'--just as it's growing +light?" + +"That means in three quarters of an hour, Johnny. I'll be there. Three +saddle-horses and a pack." + +Where the trail divided they separated. Aldous went directly to the +Blacktons'. As he had expected, the bungalow was alight. In the kitchen he +saw Tom, the Oriental cook, busy preparing breakfast. Blackton himself, +comfortably dressed in duck trousers and a smoking-jacket, and puffing on a +pipe, opened the front door for him. The pipe almost fell from his mouth +when he saw his friend's excoriated face. + +"What in the name of Heaven!" he gasped. + +"An accident," explained Aldous, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. +"Blackton, I want you to do me another good turn. Tell the ladies anything +you can think of--something reasonable. The truth is, I went through a +window--a window with plenty of glass in it. Now how the deuce can I +explain going through a window like a gentleman?" + +With folded arms, Blackton inspected him thoughtfully for a moment. + +"You can't," he said. "But I don't think you went through a window. I +believe you fell over a cliff and were caught in an armful of wait-a-bit +bushes. They're devilish those wait-a-bits!" + +They shook hands. + +"I'm ready to blow up with curiosity again," said Blackton. "But I'll play +your game, Aldous." + +A few minutes later Joanne and Peggy Blackton joined them. He saw again the +quick flush of pleasure in Joanne's lovely face when she entered the room. +It changed instantly when she saw the livid cuts in his skin. She came to +him quickly, and gave him her hand. Her lips trembled, but she did not +speak. Blackton accepted this as the psychological moment. + +"What do you think of a man who'll wander off a trail, tumble over a ledge, +and get mixed up in a bunch of wait-a-bit like _that?_" he demanded, +laughing as though he thought it a mighty good joke on Aldous. "Wait-a-bit +thorns are worse than razors, Miss Gray," he elucidated further. +"They're--they're perfectly devilish, you know!" + +"Indeed they _are_," emphasized Peggy Blackton, whom her husband had given +a quick look and a quicker nudge, "They're dreadful!" + +Looking straight into Joanne's eyes, Aldous guessed that she did not +believe, and scarcely heard, the Blacktons. + +"I had a presentiment something was going to happen," she said, smiling at +him. "I'm glad it was no worse than that." + +She withdrew her hand, and turned to Peggy Blackton. To John's delight she +had arranged her wonderful shining hair in a braid that rippled in a thick, +sinuous rope of brown and gold below her hips. Peggy Blackton had in some +way found a riding outfit for her slender figure, a typical mountain +outfit, with short divided skirt, loose blouse, and leggings. She had never +looked more beautiful to him. Her night's rest had restored the colour to +her soft cheeks and curved lips; and in her eyes, when she looked at him +again, there was a strange, glowing light that thrilled him. During the +next half-hour he almost forgot his telltale disfigurements. At breakfast +Paul and Peggy Blackton were beautifully oblivious of them. Once or twice +he saw in Joanne's clear eyes a look which made him suspect that she had +guessed very near to the truth. + +MacDonald was prompt to the minute. Gray day, with its bars of golden tint, +was just creeping over the shoulders of the eastern mountains when he rode +up to the Blacktons'. The old hunter was standing close to the horse which +Joanne was to ride when Aldous brought her out. Joanne gave him her hand, +and for a moment MacDonald bowed his shaggy head over it. Five minutes +later they were trailing up the rough wagon-road, MacDonald in the lead, +and Joanne and Aldous behind, with the single pack horse between. + +For several miles this wagon-trail reached back through the thick timber +that filled the bottom between the two ranges of mountains. They had +travelled but a short distance when Joanne drew her horse close in beside +Aldous. + +"I want to know what happened last night," she said. "Will you tell me?" + +Aldous met her eyes frankly. He had made up his mind that she would believe +only the truth, and he had decided to tell her at least a part of that. He +would lay his whole misadventure to the gold. Leaning over the pommel of +his saddle he recounted the occurrences of the night before, beginning with +his search for Quade and the half-breed, and his experience with the woman +who rode the bear. He left out nothing--except all mention of herself. He +described the events lightly, not omitting those parts which appealed to +him as being very near to comedy. + +In spite of his effort to rob the affair of its serious aspect his recital +had a decided effect upon Joanne. For some time after he had finished one +of her small gloved hands clutched tightly at the pommel of her saddle; her +breath came more quickly; the colour had ebbed from her cheeks, and she +looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes from meeting his. He began to +believe that in some way she was convinced he had not told her the whole +truth, and was possibly displeased, when she again turned her face to him. +It was tense and white. In it was the fear which, for a few minutes, she +had tried to keep from him. + +"They would have killed you?" she breathed. + +"Perhaps they would only have given me a good scare," said Aldous. "But I +didn't have time to wait and find out. I was very anxious to see MacDonald +again. So I went through the window!" + +"No, they would have killed you," said Joanne. "Perhaps I did wrong, Mr. +Aldous, but I confided--a little--in Peggy Blackton last night. She seemed +like a sister. I love her. And I wanted to confide in some one--a woman, +like her. It wasn't much, but I told her what happened at Miette: about +you, and Quade, and how I saw him at the station, and again--later, +following us. And then--she told me! Perhaps she didn't know how it was +frightening me, but she told me all about these men--Quade and Culver Rann. +And now I'm more afraid of Culver Rann than Quade, and I've never seen him. +They can't hurt me. But I'm afraid for you!" + +At her words a joy that was like the heat of a fire leaped into his brain. + +"For me?" he said. "Afraid--for me?" + +"Yes. Why shouldn't I be, if I know that you are in danger?" she asked +quietly. "And now, since last night, and the discovery of your secret by +these men, I am terrified. Quade has followed you here. Mrs. Blackton told +me that Culver Rann was many times more dangerous than Quade. Only a little +while ago you told me you did not care for riches. Then why do you go for +this gold? Why do you run the risk? Why----" + +He waited. The colour was flooding back into her face in an excited, +feverish flush. Her blue eyes were dark as thunder-clouds in their +earnestness. + +"Don't you understand?" she went on. "It was because of me that you +incurred this deadly enmity of Quade's. If anything happens to you, I shall +hold myself responsible!" + +"No, you will not be responsible," replied Aldous, steadying the tremble in +his voice. "Besides, nothing is going to happen. But you don't know how +happy you have made me by taking this sort of an interest in me. It--it +feels good," he laughed. + +For a few paces he dropped behind her, where the overhead spruce boughs +left but the space for a single rider between. Then, again, he drew up +close beside her. + +"I was going to tell you about this gold," he said. "It isn't the gold +we're going after." + +He leaned over until his hand rested on her saddle-bow. + +"Look ahead," he went on, a curious softness in his voice. "Look at +MacDonald!" + +The first shattered rays of the sun were breaking over the mountains and +reflecting their glow in the valley. Donald MacDonald had lifted his face +to the sunrise; out from under his battered hat the morning breeze sweeping +through the valley of the Frazer tossed his shaggy hair; his great owl-gray +beard swept his breast; his broad, gaunt shoulders were hunched a little +forward as he looked into the east. Again Aldous looked into Joanne's eyes. + +"It's not the gold, but MacDonald, that's taking me north, Ladygray. And +it's not the gold that is taking MacDonald. It is strange, almost +unbelievedly strange--what I am going to tell you. To-day we are seeking a +grave--for you. And up there, two hundred miles in the north, another grave +is calling MacDonald. I am going with him. It just happens that the gold is +there. You wouldn't guess that for more than forty years that blessed old +wanderer ahead of us has loved a dead woman, would you? You wouldn't think +that for nearly half a century, year in and year out, winter and summer +alike, he has tramped the northern mountains--a lost spirit with but one +desire in life--to find at last her resting-place? And yet it is so, +Ladygray. I guess I am the only living creature to whom he has opened his +heart in many a long year. A hundred times beside our campfire I have +listened to him, until at last his story seems almost to be a part of my +own. He may be a little mad, but it is a beautiful madness." + +He paused. + +"Yes," whispered Joanne. "Go on--John Aldous." + +"It's--hard to tell," he continued. "I can't put the feeling of it in +words, the spirit of it, the wonder of it. I've tried to write it, and I +couldn't. Her name was Jane. He has never spoken of her by any other name +than that, and I've never asked for the rest of it. They were kids when +their two families started West over the big prairies in Conestoga wagons. +They grew up sweethearts. Both of her parents, and his mother, died before +they were married. Then, a little later, his father died, and they were +alone. I can imagine what their love must have been. I have seen it still +living in his eyes, and I have seen it in his strange hour-long dreams +after he has talked of her. They were always together. He has told me how +they roamed the mountains hand in hand in their hunts; how she was comrade +and chum when he went prospecting. He has opened his lonely old heart to +me--a great deal. He's told me how they used to be alone for months at a +time in the mountains, the things they used to do, and how she would sing +for him beside their campfire at night. 'She had a voice sweet as an +angel,' I remember he told me once. Then, more than forty years ago, came +the gold-rush away up in the Stikine River country. They went. They joined +a little party of twelve--ten men and two women. This party wandered far +out of the beaten paths of the other gold-seekers. And at last they found +gold." + +Ahead of them Donald MacDonald had turned in his saddle and was looking +back. For a moment Aldous ceased speaking. + +"Please--go on!" said Joanne. + +"They found gold," repeated Aldous. "They found so much of it, Ladygray, +that some of them went mad--mad as beasts. It was placer gold--loose gold, +and MacDonald says that one day he and Jane filled their pockets with +nuggets. Then something happened. A great storm came; a storm that filled +the mountains with snow through which no living creature as heavy as a man +or a horse could make its way. It came a month earlier than they had +expected, and from the beginning they were doomed. Their supplies were +almost gone. + +"I can't tell you the horrors of the weeks and months that followed, as old +Donald has told them to me, Joanne. You must imagine. Only, when you are +deep in the mountains, and the snow comes, you are like a rat in a trap. So +they were caught--eleven men and three women. They who could make their +beds in sheets of yellow gold, but who had no food. The horses were lost in +the storm. Two of their frozen carcasses were found and used for food. Two +of the men set out on snowshoes, leaving their gold behind, and probably +died. + +"Then the first terrible thing happened. Two men quarrelled over a can of +beans, and one was killed. He was the husband of one of the women. The next +terrible thing happened to her--and there was a fight. On one side there +were young Donald and the husband of the other woman; on the other +side--the beasts. The husband was killed, and Donald and Jane sought refuge +in the log cabin they had built. That night they fled, taking what little +food they possessed, and what blankets they could carry. They knew they +were facing death. But they went together, hand in hand. + +"At last Donald found a great cave in the side of a mountain. I have a +picture of that cave in my brain--a deep, warm cave, with a floor of soft +white sand, a cave into which the two exhausted fugitives stumbled, still +hand in hand, and which was home. But they found it a little too late. +Three days later Jane died. And there is another picture in my brain--a +picture of young Donald sitting there in the cave, clasping in his arms the +cold form of the one creature in the world that he loved; moaning and +sobbing over her, calling upon her to come back to life, to open her eyes, +to speak to him--until at last his brain cracked and he went mad. That is +what happened. He went mad." + +Joanne's breath was coming brokenly through her lips. Unconsciously she had +clasped her fingers about the hand Aldous rested on her pommel. + +"How long he remained in the cave with his dead, MacDonald has never been +able to say," he resumed. + +"He doesn't know whether he buried his wife or left her lying on the sand +floor of the cave. He doesn't know how he got out of the mountains. But he +did, and his mind came back. And since then, Joanne--for a matter of forty +years--his life has been spent in trying to find that cave. All those years +his search was unavailing. He could find no trace of the little hidden +valley in which the treasure-seekers found their bonanza of gold. No word +of it ever came out of the mountains; no other prospector ever stumbled +upon it. Year after year Donald went into the North; year after year he +came out as the winter set in, but he never gave up hope. + +"Then he began spending winter as well as summer in that forgotten +world--forgotten because the early gold-rush was over, and the old +Telegraph trail was travelled more by wolves than men. And always, Donald +has told me, his beloved Jane's spirit was with him in his wanderings over +the mountains, her hand leading him, her voice whispering to him in the +loneliness of the long nights. Think of it, Joanne! Forty years of that! +Forty years of a strange, beautiful madness, forty years of undying love, +of faith, of seeking and never finding! And this spring old Donald came +almost to the end of his quest. He knows, now; he knows where that little +treasure valley is hidden in the mountains, he knows where to find the +cave!" + +"He found her--he found her?" she cried. "After all those years--he found +her?" + +"Almost," said Aldous softly. "But the great finale in the tragedy of +Donald MacDonald's life is yet to come, Ladygray. It will come when once +more he stands in the soft white sand of that cavern floor, and sometimes +I tremble when I think that when that moment comes I will be at his side. +To me it will be terrible. To him it will be--what? That hour has not quite +arrived. It happened this way: Old Donald was coming down from the North on +the early slush snows this spring when he came to a shack in which a man +was almost dead of the smallpox. It was DeBar, the half-breed. + +"Fearlessly MacDonald nursed him. He says it was God who sent him to that +shack. For DeBar, in his feverish ravings, revealed the fact that he had +stumbled upon that little Valley of Gold for which MacDonald had searched +through forty years. Old Donald knew it was the same valley, for the +half-breed raved of dead men, of rotting buckskin sacks of yellow nuggets, +of crumbling log shacks, and of other things the memories of which stabbed +like knives into Donald's heart. How he fought to save that man! And, at +last, he succeeded. + +"They continued south, planning to outfit and go back for the gold. They +would have gone back at once, but they had no food and no horses. Foot by +foot, in the weeks that followed, DeBar described the way to the hidden +valley, until at last MacDonald knew that he could go to it as straight as +an eagle to its nest. When they reached Tete Jaune he came to me. And I +promised to go with him, Ladygray--back to the Valley of Gold. He calls it +that; but I--I think of it as The Valley of Silent Men. It is not the gold, +but the cavern with the soft white floor that is calling us." + +In her saddle Joanne had straightened. Her head was thrown back, her lips +were parted, and her eyes shone as the eyes of a Joan of Arc must have +shone when she stood that day before the Hosts. + +"And this man, the half-breed, has sold himself--for a woman?" she said, +looking straight ahead at the bent shoulders of old MacDonald. + +"Yes, for a woman. Do you ask me why I go now? Why I shall fight, if +fighting there must be?" + +She turned to him. Her face was a blaze of glory. + +"No, no, no!" she cried. "Oh, John Aldous! if I were only a man, that I +might go with you and stand with you two in that Holy Sepulchre--the +Cavern----If I were a man, I'd go--and, yes, I would fight!" + +And Donald MacDonald, looking back, saw the two clasping hands across the +trail. A moment later he turned his horse from the broad road into a narrow +trail that led over the range. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +From the hour in which she had listened to the story of old MacDonald a +change seemed to have come over Joanne. It was as if she had risen out of +herself, out of whatever fear or grief she might have possessed in her own +heart. John Aldous knew that there was some deep significance in her visit +to the grave under the Saw Tooth Mountain, and that from the beginning she +had been fighting under a tremendous mental and physical strain. He had +expected this day would be a terrible day for her; he had seen her efforts +to strengthen herself for the approaching crisis that morning. He believed +that as they drew nearer to their journey's end her suspense and +uneasiness, the fear which she was trying to keep from him, would, in spite +of her, become more and more evident. For these reasons the change which he +saw in her was not only delightfully unexpected but deeply puzzling. She +seemed to be under the influence of some new and absorbing excitement. Her +cheeks were flushed. There was a different poise to her head; in her voice, +too, there was a note which he had not noticed before. + +It struck him, all at once, that this was a new Joanne--a Joanne who, at +least for a brief spell, had broken the bondage of oppression and fear that +had fettered her. In the narrow trail up the mountain he rode behind her, +and in this he found a pleasure even greater than when he rode at her +side. Only when her face was turned from him did he dare surrender himself +at all to the emotions which had transformed his soul. From behind he could +look at her, and worship without fear of discovery. Every movement of her +slender, graceful body gave him a new and exquisite thrill; every dancing +light and every darkening shadow in her shimmering hair added to the joy +that no fear or apprehension could overwhelm within him now. Only in those +wonderful moments, when her presence was so near, and yet her eyes did not +see him, could he submerge himself completely in the thought of what she +had become to him and of what she meant to him. + +During the first hour of their climb over the break that led into the +valley beyond they had but little opportunity for conversation. The trail +was an abandoned Indian path, narrow, and in places extremely steep. Twice +Aldous helped Joanne from her horse that she might travel afoot over places +which he considered dangerous. When he assisted her in the saddle again, +after a stiff ascent of a hundred yards, she was panting from her exertion, +and he felt the sweet thrill of her breath in his face. For a space his +happiness obliterated all thoughts of other things. It was MacDonald who +brought them back. + +They had reached the summit of the break, and through his long brass +telescope the old mountaineer was scanning the valley out of which they had +come. Under them lay Tete Jaune, gleaming in the morning sun, and it dawned +suddenly upon Aldous that this was the spot from which MacDonald had spied +upon his enemies. He looked at Joanne. She was breathing quickly as she +looked upon the wonder of the scene below them. Suddenly she turned, and +encountered his eyes. + +"They might--follow?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"No danger of that," he assured her. + +MacDonald had dismounted, and now he lay crouched behind a rock, with his +telescope resting over the top of it. He had leaned his long rifle against +the boulder; his huge forty-four, a relic of the old Indian days, hung at +his hip. Joanne saw these omens of preparedness, and her eyes shifted again +to Aldous. His .303 swung from his saddle. At his waist was the heavy +automatic. She smiled. In her eyes was understanding, and something like a +challenge. She did not question him again, but under her gaze Aldous +flushed. + +A moment later MacDonald closed his telescope and without a word mounted +his horse. Where the descent into the second valley began he paused again. +To the north through the haze of the morning sun gleamed the snow-capped +peaks of the Saw Tooth Range. Apparently not more than an hour's ride +distant rose a huge red sandstone giant which seemed to shut in the end of +the valley MacDonald stretched forth a long arm in its direction. + +"What we're seekin' is behind that mountain," he said. "It's ten miles from +here." He turned to the girl. "Are you gettin' lame, Mis' Joanne?" + +Aldous saw her lips tighten. + +"No. Let us go on, please." + +She was staring fixedly at the sombre red mass of the mountain. Her eyes +did not take in the magnificent sweep of the valley below. They saw +nothing of the snow-capped peaks beyond. There was something wild and +unnatural in their steady gaze. Aldous dropped behind her as they began the +gradual descent from the crest of the break and his own heart began to beat +more apprehensively; the old question flashed back upon him, and he felt +again the oppression that once before had held him in its grip. His eyes +did not leave Joanne. And always she was staring at the mountain behind +which lay the thing they were seeking! It was not Joanne herself that set +his blood throbbing. Her face had not paled. Its colour was like the hectic +flush of a fever. Her eyes alone betrayed her; their strange intensity--the +almost painful steadiness with which they hung to the distant mountain, and +a dread of what was to come seized upon him. Again he found himself asking +himself questions which he could not answer. Why had Joanne not confided +more fully in him? What was the deeper significance of this visit to the +grave, and of her mission in the mountains? + +Down the narrow Indian trail they passed into the thick spruce timber. Half +an hour later they came out into the grassy creek bottom of the valley. +During that time Joanne did not look behind her, and John Aldous did not +speak. MacDonald turned north, and the sandstone mountain was straight +ahead of them. It was not like the other mountains. There was something +sinister and sullen about it. It was ugly and broken. No vegetation grew +upon it, and through the haze of sunlight its barren sides and battlemented +crags gleamed a dark and humid red after the morning mists, as if freshly +stained with blood. Aldous guessed its effect upon Joanne, and he +determined to put an end to it. Again he rode up close beside her. + +"I want you to get better acquainted with old Donald," he said. "We're sort +of leaving him out in the cold, Ladygray. Do you mind if I tell him to come +back and ride with you for a while?" + +"I've been wanting to talk with him," she replied. "If you don't mind----" + +"I don't," he broke in quickly. "You'll love old Donald, Ladygray. And, if +you can, I'd like to have you tell him all that you know about--Jane. Let +him know that I told you." + +She nodded. Her lips trembled in a smile. + +"I will," she said. + +A moment later Aldous was telling MacDonald that Joanne wanted him. The old +mountaineer stared. He drew his pipe from his mouth, beat out its +half-burned contents, and thrust it into its accustomed pocket. + +"She wants to see me?" he asked. "God bless her soul--what for?" + +"Because she thinks you're lonesome up here alone, Mac. And look +here"--Aldous leaned over to MacDonald--"her nerves are ready to snap. I +know it. There's a mighty good reason why I can't relieve the strain she is +under. But you can. She's thinking every minute of that mountain up there +and the grave behind it. You go back, and talk. Tell her about the first +time you ever came up through these valleys--you and Jane. Will you, Mac? +Will you tell her that?" + +MacDonald did not reply, but he dropped behind. Aldous took up the lead. A +few minutes later he looked back, and laughed softly under his breath. +Joanne and the old hunter were riding side by side in the creek bottom, and +Joanne was talking. He looked at his watch. He did not look at it again +until the first gaunt, red shoulder of the sandstone mountain began to loom +over them. An hour had passed since he left Joanne. Ahead of him, perhaps a +mile distant, was the cragged spur beyond which--according to the sketch +Keller had drawn for him at the engineers' camp--was the rough canyon +leading back to the basin on the far side of the mountain. He had almost +reached this when MacDonald rode up. + +"You go back, Johnny," he said, a singular softness in his hollow voice. +"We're a'most there." + +He cast his eyes over the western peaks, where dark clouds were shouldering +their way up in the face of the sun, and added: + +"There's rain in that. I'll trot on ahead with Pinto and have a tent ready +when you come. I reckon it can't be more'n a mile up the canyon." + +"And the grave, Mac?" + +"Is right close to where I'll pitch the tent," said MacDonald, swinging +suddenly behind the pack-horse Pinto, and urging him into a trot. "Don't +waste any time, Johnny." + +Aldous rode back to Joanne. + +"It looks like rain," he explained. "These Pacific showers come up quickly +this side of the Divide, and they drench you in a jiffy. Donald is going on +ahead to put up a tent." + +By the time they reached the mouth of the canyon MacDonald was out of +sight. A little creek that was a swollen torrent in spring time trickled +out of the gorge. Its channel was choked with a chaotic confusion of +sandstone rock and broken slate, and up through this Aldous carefully +picked his way, followed closely by Joanne. The sky continued to darken +above them, until at last the sun died out, and a thick and almost palpable +gloom began to envelop them. Low thunder rolled through the mountains in +sullen, rumbling echoes. He looked back at Joanne, and was amazed to see +her eyes shining, and a smile on her lips as she nodded at him. + +"It makes me think of Henrik Hudson and his ten-pin players," she called +softly. "And ahead of us--is Rip Van Winkle!" + +The first big drops were beginning to fall when they came to an open place. +The gorge swung to the right; on their left the rocks gave place to a +rolling meadow of buffalo grass, and Aldous knew they had reached the +basin. A hundred yards up the slope was a fringe of timber, and as he +looked he saw smoke rising out of this. The sound of MacDonald's axe came +to them. He turned to Joanne, and he saw that she understood. They were at +their journey's end. Perhaps her fingers gripped her rein a little more +tightly. Perhaps it was imagination that made him think there was a slight +tremble in her voice when she said: + +"This--is the place?" + +"Yes. It should be just above the timber. I believe I can see the upper +break of the little box canyon Keller told me about." + +She rode without speaking until they entered the timber. They were just in +time. As he lifted her down from her horse the clouds opened, and the rain +fell in a deluge. Her hair was wet when he got her in the tent. MacDonald +had spread out a number of blankets, but he had disappeared. Joanne sank +down upon them with a little shiver. She looked up at Aldous. It was almost +dark in the tent, and her eyes were glowing strangely. Over them the +thunder crashed deafeningly. For a few minutes it was a continual roar, +shaking the mountains with mighty reverberations that were like the +explosions of giant guns. Aldous stood holding the untied flap against the +beat of the rain. Twice he saw Joanne's lips form words. At last he heard +her say: + +"Where is Donald?" + +He tied the flap, and dropped down on the edge of the blankets before he +answered her. + +"Probably out in the open watching the lightning, and letting the rain +drench him," he said. "I've never known old Donald to come in out of a +rain, unless it was cold. He was tying up the horses when I ran in here +with you." + +He believed she was shivering, yet he knew she was not cold. In the half +gloom of the tent he wanted to reach over and take her hand. + +For a few minutes longer there was no break in the steady downpour and the +crashing of the thunder. Then, as suddenly as the storm had broken, it +began to subside. Aldous rose and flung back the tent-flap. + +"It is almost over," he said. "You had better remain in the tent a little +longer, Ladygray. I will go out and see if MacDonald has succeeded in +drowning himself." + +Joanne did not answer, and Aldous stepped outside. He knew where to find +the old hunter. He had gone up to the end of the timber, and probably this +minute was in the little box canyon searching for the grave. It was a +matter of less than a hundred yards to the upper fringe of timber, and when +Aldous came out of this he stood on the summit of the grassy divide that +separated the tiny lake Keller had described from the canyon. It was less +than a rifle shot distant, and on the farther side of it MacDonald was +already returning. Aldous hurried down to meet him. He did not speak when +they met, but his companion answered the question in his eyes, while the +water dripped in streams from his drenched hair and beard. + +"It's there," he said, pointing back. "Just behind that big black rock. +There's a slab over it, an' you've got the name right. It's Mortimer +FitzHugh." + +Above them the clouds were splitting asunder. A shaft of sunlight broke +through, and as they stood looking over the little lake the shaft +broadened, and the sun swept in golden triumph over the mountains. +MacDonald beat his limp hat against his knee, and with his other hand +drained the water from his beard. + +"What you goin' to do?" he asked. + +Aldous turned toward the timber. Joanne herself answered the question. She +was coming up the slope. In a few moments she stood beside them. First she +looked down upon the lake. Then her eyes turned to Aldous. There was no +need for speech. He held out his hand, and without hesitation she gave him +her own. MacDonald understood. He walked down ahead of them toward the +black rock. When he came to the rock he paused. Aldous and Joanne passed +him. Then they, too, stopped, and Aldous freed the girl's hand. + +With an unexpectedness that was startling they had come upon the grave. Yet +not a sound escaped Joanne's lips. Aldous could not see that she was +breathing. Less than ten paces from them was the mound, protected by its +cairn of stones; and over the stones rose a weather-stained slab in the +form of a cross. One glance at the grave and Aldous riveted his eyes upon +Joanne. For a full minute she stood as motionless as though the last breath +had left her body. Then, slowly, she advanced. He could not see her face. +He followed, quietly, step by step as she moved. For another minute she +leaned over the slab, making out the fine-seared letters of the name. Her +body was bent forward; her two hands were clenched tightly at her side. +Even more slowly than she had advanced she turned toward Aldous and +MacDonald. Her face was dead white. She lifted her hands to her breast, and +clenched them there. + +"It is his name," she said, and there was something repressed and terrible +in her low voice. "It is his name!" + +She was looking straight into the eyes of John Aldous, and he saw that she +was fighting to say something which she had not spoken. Suddenly she came +to him, and her two hands caught his arm. + +"It is terrible--what I am going to ask of you," she struggled. "You will +think I am a ghoul. But I must have proof! I must--I must!" + +She was staring wildly at him, and all at once there leapt fiercely through +him a dawning of the truth. The name was there, seared by hot iron in that +slab of wood. The name! But under the cairn of stones---- + +Behind them MacDonald had heard. He towered beside them now. His great +mountain-twisted hands drew Joanne a step back, and strange gentleness was +in his voice as he said: + +"You an' Johnny go back an' build a fire, Mis' Joanne. I'll find the +proof!" + +"Come," said Aldous, and he held out his hand again. + +MacDonald hurried on ahead of them. When they reached the camp he was gone, +so that Joanne did not see the pick and shovel which he carried back. She +went into the tent and Aldous began building a fire where MacDonald's had +been drowned out. There was little reason for a fire; but he built it, and +for fifteen minutes added pitch-heavy fagots of storm-killed jack-pine and +spruce to it, until the flames leapt a dozen feet into the air. Half a +dozen times he was impelled to return to the grave and assist MacDonald in +his gruesome task. But he knew that MacDonald had meant that he should stay +with Joanne. If he returned, she might follow. + +He was surprised at the quickness with which MacDonald performed his work. +Not more than half an hour had passed when a low whistle drew his eyes to a +clump of dwarf spruce back in the timber. The mountaineer was standing +there, holding something in his hand. With a backward glance to see that +Joanne had not come from the tent, Aldous hastened to him. What he could +see of MacDonald's face was the lifeless colour of gray ash. His eyes +stared as if he had suffered a strange and unexpected shock. He went to +speak, but no words came through his beard. In his hand he held his faded +red neck-handkerchief. He gave it to Aldous. + +"It wasn't deep," he said. "It was shallow, turribly shallow, Johnny--just +under the stone!" + +His voice was husky and unnatural. + +There was something heavy in the handkerchief, and a shudder passed through +Aldous as he placed it on the palm of his hand and unveiled its contents. +He could not repress an exclamation when he saw what MacDonald had brought. +In his hand, with a single thickness of the wet handkerchief between the +objects and his flesh, lay a watch and a ring. The watch was of gold. It +was tarnished, but he could see there were initials, which he could not +make out, engraved on the back of the case. The ring, too, was of gold. It +was one of the most gruesome ornaments Aldous had ever seen. It was in the +form of a coiled and writhing serpent, wide enough to cover half of one's +middle finger between the joints. Again the eyes of the two men met, and +again Aldous observed that strange, stunned look in the old hunter's face. +He turned and walked back toward the tent, MacDonald following him slowly, +still staring, his long gaunt arms and hands hanging limply at his side. + +Joanne heard them, and came out of the tent. A choking cry fell from her +lips when she saw MacDonald. For a moment one of her hands clutched at the +wet canvas of the tent, and then she swayed forward, knowing what John +Aldous had in his hand. He stood voiceless while she looked. In that tense +half-minute when she stared at the objects he held it seemed to him that +her heart-strings must snap under the strain. Then she drew back from +them, her eyes filled with horror, her hands raised as if to shut out the +sight of them, and a panting, sobbing cry broke from between her pallid +lips. + +"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "Take them away--take them away!" + +She staggered back to the tent, and stood there with her hands covering her +face. Aldous turned to the old hunter and gave him the things he held. + +A moment later he stood alone where the three had been, staring now as +Joanne had stared, his heart beating wildly. + +For Joanne, in entering the tent, had uncovered her face; it was not grief +that he saw there, but the soul of a woman new-born. And as his own soul +responded in a wild rejoicing, MacDonald, going over the summit and down +into the hollow, mumbled in his beard: + +"God ha' mercy on me! I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny, an' because she's +like my Jane!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Plunged from one extreme of mental strain to another excitement that was as +acute in its opposite effect, John Aldous stood and stared at the tent-flap +that had dropped behind Joanne. Only a flash he had caught of her face; but +in that flash he had seen the living, quivering joyousness of freedom +blazing where a moment before there had been only horror and fear. As if +ashamed of her own betrayal, Joanne had darted into the tent. She had +answered his question a thousand times more effectively than if she had +remained to tell him with her lips that MacDonald's proofs were +sufficient--that the grave in the little box canyon had not disappointed +her. She had recognized the ring and the watch; from them she had shrank in +horror, as if fearing that the golden serpent might suddenly leap into life +and strike. + +In spite of the mightiest efforts she might have made for self-control +Aldous had seen in her tense and tortured face a look that was more than +either dread or shock--it was abhorrence, hatred. And his last glimpse of +her face had revealed those things gone, and in their place the strange joy +she had run into the tent to hide. That she should rejoice over the dead, +or that the grim relics from the grave should bring that new dawn into her +face and eyes, did not strike him as shocking. In Joanne his sun had +already begun to rise and set. He had come to understand that for her the +grave must hold its dead; that the fact of death, death under the slab that +bore Mortimer FitzHugh's name, meant life for her, just as it meant life +and all things for him. He had prayed for it, even while he dreaded that it +might not be. In him all things were now submerged in the wild thought that +Joanne was free, and the grave had been the key to her freedom. + +A calmness began to possess him that was in singular contrast to the +perturbed condition of his mind a few minutes before. From this hour Joanne +was his to fight for, to win if he could; and, knowing this, his soul rose +in triumph above his first physical exultation, and he fought back the +almost irresistible impulse to follow her into the tent and tell her what +this day had meant for him. Following this came swiftly a realization of +what it had meant for her--the suspense, the terrific strain, the final +shock and gruesome horror of it. He was sure, without seeing, that she was +huddled down on the blankets in the tent. She had passed through an ordeal +under which a strong man might have broken, and the picture he had of her +struggle in there alone turned him from the tent filled with a +determination to make her believe that the events of the morning, both with +him and MacDonald, were easily forgotten. + +He began to whistle as he threw back the wet canvas from over the camp +outfit that had been taken from Pinto's back. In one of the two cow-hide +panniers he saw that thoughtful old Donald had packed materials for their +dinner, as well as utensils necessary for its preparation. That dinner they +would have in the valley, well beyond the red mountain. He began to repack, +whistling cheerily. He was still whistling when MacDonald returned. He +broke off sharply when he saw the other's face. + +"What's the matter, Mac?" he asked. "You sick?" + +"It weren't pleasant, Johnny." + +Aldous nodded toward the tent. + +"It was--beastly," he whispered. "But we can't let her feel that way about +it, Mac. Cheer up--and let's get out of this place. We'll have dinner +somewhere over in the valley." + +They continued packing until only the tent remained to be placed on Pinto's +back. Aldous resumed his loud whistling as he tightened up the +saddle-girths, and killed time in half a dozen other ways. A quarter of an +hour passed. Still Joanne did not appear. Aldous scratched his head +dubiously, and looked at the tent. + +"I don't want to disturb her, Mac," he said in a low voice. "Let's keep up +the bluff of being busy. We can put out the fire." + +Ten minutes later, sweating and considerably smokegrimed, Aldous again +looked toward the tent. + +"We might cut down a few trees," suggested MacDonald. + +"Or play leap-frog," added Aldous. + +"The trees'd sound more natcherel," said MacDonald. "We could tell her----" + +A stick snapped behind them. Both turned at the same instant. Joanne stood +facing them not ten feet away. + +"Great Scott!" gasped Aldous. "Joanne, I thought you were in the tent!" + +The beautiful calmness in Joanne's face amazed him. He stared at her as he +spoke, forgetting altogether the manner in which he had intended to greet +her when she came from the tent. + +"I went out the back way--lifted the canvas and crawled under just like a +boy," she explained. "And I've walked until my feet are wet." + +"And the fire is out!" + +"I don't mind wet feet," she hurried to assure him. + +Old Donald was already at work pulling the tent-pegs. Joanne came close to +Aldous, and he saw again that deep and wonderful light in her eyes. This +time he knew that she meant he should see it, and words which he had +determined not to speak fell softly from his lips. + +"You are no longer afraid, Ladygray? That which you dreaded----" + +"Is dead," she said. "And you, John Aldous? Without knowing, seeing me only +as you have seen me, do you think that I am terrible?" + +"No, could not think that." + +Her hand touched his arm. + +"Will you go out there with me, in the sunlight, where we can look down +upon the little lake?" she asked. "Until to-day I had made up my mind that +no one but myself would ever know the truth. But you have been good to me, +and I must tell you--about myself--about him." + +He found no answer. He left no word with MacDonald. Until they stood on the +grassy knoll, with the lakelet shimmering in the sunlight below them, +Joanne herself did not speak again. Then, with a little gesture, she said: + +"Perhaps you think what is down there is dreadful to me. It isn't. I shall +always remember that little lake, almost as Donald remembers the +cavern--not because it watches over something I love, but because it guards +a thing that in life would have destroyed me! I know how you must feel, +John Aldous--that deep down in your heart you must wonder at a woman who +can rejoice in the death of another human creature. Yet death, and death +alone, has been the key from bondage of millions of souls that have lived +before mine; and there are men--men, too--whose lives have been warped and +destroyed because death did not come to save them. One was my father. If +death had come for him, if it had taken my mother, that down there would +never have happened--for me!" + +She spoke the terrible words so quietly, so calmly, that it was impossible +for him entirely to conceal their effect upon him. There was a bit of +pathos in her smile. + +"My mother drove my father mad," she went on, with a simple directness that +was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard come from human lips. "The +world did not know that he was mad. It called him eccentric. But he was +mad--in just one way. I was nine years old when it happened, and I can +remember our home most vividly. It was a beautiful home. And my father! +Need I tell you that I worshipped him--that to me he was king of all men? +And as deeply as I loved him, so, in another way, he worshipped my mother. +She was beautiful. In a curious sort of way I used to wonder, as a child, +how it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful. It was a dark beauty--a +recurrence of French strain in her English blood. + +"One day I overheard my father tell her that, if she died, he would kill +himself. He was not of the passionate, over-sentimental kind; he was a +philosopher, a scientist, calm and self-contained--and I remembered those +words later, when I had outgrown childhood, as one of a hundred proofs of +how devoutly he had loved her. It was more than love, I believe. It was +adoration. I was nine, I say, when things happened. Another man, a divorce, +and on the day of the divorce this woman, my mother, married her lover. +Somewhere in my father's brain a single thread snapped, and from that day +he was mad--mad on but one subject; and so deep and intense was his madness +that it became a part of me as the years passed, and to-day I, too, am +possessed of that madness. And it is the one greatest thing in the world +that I am proud of, John Aldous!" + +Not once had her voice betrayed excitement or emotion. Not once had it +risen above its normal tone; and in her eyes, as they turned from the lake +to him, there was the tranquillity of a child. + +"And that madness," she resumed, "was the madness of a man whose brain and +soul were overwrought in one colossal hatred--a hatred of divorce and the +laws that made it possible. It was born in him in a day, and it lived until +his death. It turned him from the paths of men, and we became wanderers +upon the face of the earth. Two years after the ruin of our home my mother +and the man she had married died in a ship that was lost at sea. This had +no effect upon my father. Possibly you will not understand what grew up +between us in the years and years that followed. To the end he was a +scientist, a man seeking after the unknown, and my education came to be a +composite of teachings gathered in all parts of the world. We were never +apart. We were more than father and daughter; we were friends, +comrades--he was my world, and I was his. + +"I recall, as I became older, how his hatred of that thing that had broken +our home developed more and more strongly in me. His mind was titanic. A +thousand times I pleaded with him to employ it in the great fight I wanted +him to make--a fight against the crime divorce. I know, now, why he did +not. He was thinking of me. Only one thing he asked of me. It was more than +a request. It was a command. And this command, and my promise, was that so +long as I lived--no matter what might happen in my life--I would sacrifice +myself body and soul sooner than allow that black monster of divorce to +fasten its clutches on me. It is futile for me to tell you these things, +John Aldous. It is impossible--you cannot understand!" + +"I can," he replied, scarcely above a whisper. "Joanne, I begin--to +understand!" + +And still without emotion, her voice as calm as the unruffled lake at their +feet, she continued: + +"It grew in me. It is a part of me now. I hate divorce as I hate the worst +sin that bars one from Heaven. It is the one thing I hate. And it is +because of this hatred that I suffered myself to remain the wife of the man +whose name is over that grave down there--Mortimer FitzHugh. It came about +strangely--what I am going to tell you now. You will wonder. You will think +I was insane. But remember, John Aldous--the world had come to hold but one +friend and comrade for me, and he was my father. It was after Mindano. He +caught the fever, and he was dying." + +For the first time her breath choked her. It was only for an instant. She +recovered herself, and went on: + +"Out of the world my father had left he had kept one friend--Richard +FitzHugh; and this man, with his son, was with us during those terrible +days of fever. I met Mortimer as I had met a thousand other men. His +father, I thought, was the soul of honour, and I accepted the son as such. +We were much together during those two weeks of my despair, and he seemed +to be attentive and kind. Then came the end. My father was dying. And I--I +was ready to die. In his last moments his one thought was of me. He knew I +was alone, and the fear of it terrified him. I believe he did not realize +then what he was asking of me. He pleaded with me to marry the son of his +old friend before he died. And I--John Aldous, I could not fight his last +wish as he lay dying before my eyes. We were married there at his bedside. +He joined our hands. And the words he whispered to me last of all were: +'Remember--Joanne--thy promise and thine honour!'" + +For a moment Joanne stood facing the little lake, and when she spoke again +there was a note of thankfulness, of subdued joy and triumph, in her voice. + +"Before that day had ended I had displeased Mortimer FitzHugh," she said, +and Aldous saw the fingers of her hands close tightly. "I told him that +until a month had passed I would not live with him as a wife lives with her +husband. And he was displeased. And my father was not yet buried! I was +shocked. My soul revolted. + +"We went to London and I was made welcome in the older FitzHugh's wifeless +home, and the papers told of our wedding. And two days later there came +from Devonshire a woman--a sweet-faced little woman with sick, haunted +eyes; in her arms she brought a baby; and that baby _was Mortimer +FitzHugh's!_ + +"We confronted him--the mother, the baby, and I; and then I knew that he +was a fiend. And the father was a fiend. They offered to buy the woman off, +to support her and the child. They told me that many English gentlemen had +made mistakes like this, and that it was nothing--that it was quite common. +Mortimer FitzHugh had never touched me with his lips, and now, when he came +to touch me with his hands, I struck him. It was a serpent's house, and I +left it. + +"My father had left me a comfortable fortune, and I went into a house of my +own. Day after day they came to me, and I knew that they feared I was going +to secure a divorce. During the six months that followed I learned other +things about the man who was legally my husband. He was everything that was +vile. Brazenly he went into public places with women of dishonour, and I +hid my face in shame. + +"His father died, and for a time Mortimer FitzHugh became one of the +talked-about spendthrifts of London. Swiftly he gambled and dissipated +himself into comparative poverty. And now, learning that I would not get a +divorce, he began to regard me as a slave in chains. I remember, one time, +that he succeeded in laying his hands on me, and they were like the touch +of things that were slimy and poisonous. He laughed at my revulsion. He +demanded money of me, and to keep him away from me I gave it to him. Again +and again he came for money; I suffered as I cannot tell you, but never +once in my misery did I weaken in my promise to my father and to myself. +But--at last--I ran away. + +"I went to Egypt, and then to India. A year later I learned that Mortimer +FitzHugh had gone to America, and I returned to London. For two years I +heard nothing of him; but day and night I lived in fear and dread. And then +came the news that he had died, as you read in the newspaper clipping. I +was free! For a year I believed that; and then, like a shock that had come +to destroy me, I was told that he _was not dead_ but that he was alive, and +in a place called Tete Jaune Cache, in British Columbia. I could not live +in the terrible suspense that followed. I determined to find out for myself +if he was alive or dead. And so I came, John Aldous. And he is dead. He is +down there--dead. And I am glad that he is dead!" + +"And if he was not dead," said Aldous quietly, "I would kill him!" + +He could find nothing more to say than that. He dared trust himself no +further, and in silence he held out his hands, and for a moment Joanne gave +him her own. Then she withdrew them, and with a little gesture, and the +smile which he loved to see trembling about her mouth, she said: + +"Donald will think this is scandalous. We must go back and apologize!" + +She led him down the slope, and her face was filled with the pink flush of +a wild rose when she ran up to Donald, and asked him to help her into her +saddle. John Aldous rode like one in a dream as they went back into the +valley, for with each minute that passed Joanne seemed more and more to +him like a beautiful bird that had escaped from its prison-cage, and in him +mind and soul were absorbed in the wonder of it and in his own rejoicing. +She was free, and in her freedom she was happy! + +Free! It was that thought that pounded steadily in his brain. He forgot +Quade, and Culver Rann, and the gold; he forgot his own danger, his own +work, almost his own existence. Of a sudden the world had become +infinitesimally small for him, and all he could see was the soft shimmer of +Joanne's hair in the sun, the wonder of her face, the marvellous blue of +her eyes--and all he could hear was the sweet thrill of her voice when she +spoke to him or old Donald, and when, now and then, soft laughter trembled +on her lips in the sheer joy of the life that had dawned anew for her this +day. + +They stopped for dinner, and then went on over the range and down into the +valley where lay Tete Jaune. And all this time he fought to keep from +flaming in his own face the desire that was like a hot fire within him--the +desire to go to Joanne and tell her that he loved her as he had never +dreamed it possible for love to exist in the whole wide world. He knew that +to surrender to that desire in this hour would be something like sacrilege. +He did not guess that Joanne saw his struggle, that even old MacDonald +mumbled low words in his beard. When they came at last to Blackton's +bungalow he thought that he had kept this thing from her, and he did not +see--and would not have understood if he had seen--the wonderful and +mysterious glow in Joanne's eyes when she kissed Peggy Blackton. + +Blackton had come in from the work-end, dust-covered and jubilant. + +"I'm glad you folks have returned," he cried, beaming with enthusiasm as he +gripped Aldous by the hand. "The last rock is packed, and to-night we're +going to shake the earth. We're going to blow up Coyote Number +Twenty-seven, and you won't forget the sight as long as you live!" + +Not until Joanne had disappeared into the house with Peggy Blackton did +Aldous feel that he had descended firmly upon his feet once more into a +matter-of-fact world. MacDonald was waiting with the horses, and Blackton +was pointing over toward the steel workers, and was saying something about +ten thousand pounds of black powder and dynamite and a mountain that had +stood a million years and was going to be blown up that night. + +"It's the best bit of work I've ever done, Aldous--that and Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. Peggy was going to touch the electric button to Twenty-seven +to-night, but we've decided to let Miss Gray do that, and Peggy'll fire +Twenty-eight to-morrow night. Twenty-eight is almost ready. If you say so, +the bunch of us will go over and see it in the morning. Mebby Miss Gray +would like to see for herself that a coyote isn't only an animal with a +bushy tail, but a cavern dug into rock an' filled with enough explosives to +play high jinks with all the navies in the world if they happened to be on +hand at the time. What do you say?" + +"Fine!" said Aldous. + +"And Peggy wants me to say that it's a matter of only common, every-day +decency on your part to make yourself our guest while here," added the +contractor, stuffing his pipe. "We've got plenty of room, enough to eat, +and a comfortable bed for you. You're going to be polite enough to accept, +aren't you?" + +"With all my heart," exclaimed Aldous, his blood tingling at the thought of +being near Joanne. "I've got some business with MacDonald and as soon as +that's over I'll domicile myself here. It's bully of you, Blackton! You +know----" + +"Why, dammit, of course I know!" chuckled Blackton, lighting his pipe. +"Can't I see, Aldous? D'ye think I'm blind? I was just as gone over Peggy +before I married her. Fact is, I haven't got over it yet--and never will. I +come up from the work four times a day regular to see her, and if I don't +come I have to send up word I'm safe. Peggy saw it first. She said it was a +shame to put you off in that cabin with Miss Gray away up here. I don't +want to stick my nose in your business, old man, but--by George!--I +congratulate you! I've only seen one lovelier woman in my life, and that's +Peggy." + +He thrust out a hand and pumped his friend's limp arm, and Aldous felt +himself growing suddenly warm under the other's chuckling gaze. + +"For goodness sake don't say anything, or act anything, old man," he +pleaded. "I'm--just--hoping." + +Blackton nodded with prodigious understanding in his eyes. + +"Come along when you get through with MacDonald," he said. "I'm going in +and clean up for to-night's fireworks." + +A question was in Aldous' mind, but he did not put it in words. He wanted +to know about Quade and Culver Rann. + +"Blackton is such a ridiculously forgetful fellow at times that I don't +want to rouse his alarm," he said to MacDonald as they were riding toward +the corral a few minutes later. "He might let something out to Joanne and +his wife, and I've got reasons--mighty good reasons, Mac--for keeping this +affair as quiet as possible. We'll have to discover what Rann and Quade are +doing ourselves." + +MacDonald edged his horse in nearer to Aldous. + +"See here, Johnny, boy--tell me what's in your mind?" + +Aldous looked into the grizzled face, and there was something in the glow +of the old mountaineer's eyes that made him think of a father. + +"You know, Mac." + +Old Donald nodded. + +"Yes, I guess I do, Johnny," he said in a low voice. "You think of Mis' +Joanne as I used to--to--think of _her_. I guess I know. But--what you +goin' to do?" + +Aldous shook his head, and for the first time that afternoon a look of +uneasiness and gloom overspread his face. + +"I don't know, Mac. I'm not ashamed to tell you. I love her. If she were to +pass out of my life to-morrow I would ask for something that belonged to +her, and the spirit of her would live in it for me until I died. That's how +I care, Mac. But I've known her such a short time. I can't tell her yet. It +wouldn't be the square thing. And yet she won't remain in Tete Jaune very +long. Her mission is accomplished. And if--if she goes I can't very well +follow her, can I, Mac?" + +For a space old Donald was silent. Then he said, "You're thinkin' of me, +Johnny, an' what we was planning on?" + +"Partly." + +"Then don't any more. I'll stick to you, an' we'll stick to her. Only----" + +"What?" + +"If you could get Peggy Blackton to help you----" + +"You mean----" began Aldous eagerly. + +"That if Peggy Blackton got her to stay for a week--mebby ten +days--visitin' her, you know, it wouldn't be so bad if you told her then, +would it, Johnny?" + +"By George, it wouldn't!" + +"And I think----" + +"Yes----" + +"Bein' an old man, an' seein' mebby what you don't see----" + +"Yes----" + +"That she'd take you, Johnny." + +In his breast John's heart seemed suddenly to give a jump that choked him. +And while he stared ahead old Donald went on. + +"I've seen it afore, in a pair of eyes just like her eyes, Johnny--so soft +an' deeplike, like the sky up there when the sun's in it. I seen it when we +was ridin' behind an' she looked ahead at you, Johnny. I did. An' I've seen +it afore. An' I think----" + +Aldous waited, his heart-strings ready to snap. + +"An' I think--she likes you a great deal, Johnny." + +Aldous reached over and gripped MacDonald's hand. + +"The good Lord bless you, Donald! We'll stick! As for Quade and Culver +Rann----" + +"I've been thinkin' of them," interrupted MacDonald. "You haven't got time +to waste on them, Johnny. Leave 'em to me. If it's only a week you've got +to be close an' near by Mis' Joanne. I'll find out what Quade an' Rann are +doing, and what they're goin' to do. I've got a scheme. Will you leave 'em +to me?" + +Aldous nodded, and in the same breath informed MacDonald of Peggy +Blackton's invitation. The old hunter chuckled exultantly. He stopped his +horse, and Aldous halted. + +"It's workin' out fine, Johnny!" he exclaimed. "There ain't no need of you +goin' any further. We understand each other, and there ain't nothin' for +you to do at the corral. Jump off your horse and go back. If I want you +I'll come to the Blacktons' 'r send word, and if you want me I'll be at the +corral or the camp in the coulee. Jump off, Johnny!" + +Without further urging Aldous dismounted. They shook hands again, and +MacDonald drove on ahead of him the saddled horses and the pack. And as +Aldous turned back toward the bungalow old Donald was mumbling low in his +beard again, "God ha' mercy on me, but I'm doin' it for her an' Johnny--for +her an' Johnny!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Half an hour later Blackton had shown Aldous to his room and bath. It was +four o'clock when he rejoined the contractor in the lower room, freshly +bathed and shaven and in a change of clothes. He had not seen Joanne, but +half a dozen times he had heard her and Peggy Blackton laughing and talking +in Mrs. Blackton's big room at the head of the stairs, and he heard them +now as they sat down to smoke their cigars. Blackton was filled with +enthusiasm over the accomplishment of his latest work, and Aldous tried +hard not to betray the fact that the minutes were passing with gruelling +slowness while he waited for Joanne. He wanted to see her. His heart was +beating like an excited boy's. He could hear her footsteps over his head, +and he distinguished her soft laughter, and her sweet voice when she spoke. +There was something tantalizing in her nearness and the fact that she did +not once show herself at the top of the stair. Blackton was still talking +about "coyotes" and dynamite when, an hour later, Aldous looked up, and his +heart gave a big, glad jump. + +Peggy Blackton, a plump little golden-haired vision of happiness, was +already half a dozen steps down the stairs. At the top Joanne, for an +instant, had paused. Through that space, before the contractor had turned, +her eyes met those of John Aldous. She was smiling. Her eyes were shining +at him. Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and +never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness. She was dressed +in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat, +and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous +way. Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she +had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the +lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck. + +For a moment, as Peggy Blackton went to her husband, he stood very close to +Joanne, and into his eyes she was smiling, half laughing, her beautiful +mouth aquiver, her eyes glowing, the last trace of their old suspense and +fear vanished in a new and wondrous beauty. He would not have said she was +twenty-eight now. He would have sworn she was twenty. + +"Joanne," he whispered, "you are wonderful. Your hair is glorious!" + +"Always--my hair," she replied, so low that he alone heard. "Can you never +see beyond my hair, John Aldous?" + +"I stop there," he said. "And I marvel. It is glorious!" + +"Again!" And up from her white throat there rose a richer, sweeter colour. +"If you say that again now, John Aldous, I shall never make curls for you +again as long as I live!" + +"For me----" + +His heart seemed near bursting with joy. But she had left him, and was +laughing with Peggy Blackton, who was showing her husband where he had +missed a stubbly patch of beard on his cheek. He caught her eyes, turned +swiftly to him, and they were laughing at him, and there came a sudden +pretty upturn to her chin as he continued to stare, and he saw again the +colour deepening in her face. When Peggy Blackton led her husband to the +stair, and drove him up to shave off the stubbly patch, Joanne found the +opportunity to whisper to him: + +"You are rude, John Aldous! You must not stare at me like that!" + +And as she spoke the rebellious colour was still in her face, in spite of +the tantalizing curve of her red lips and the sparkle in her eyes. + +"I can't help it," he pleaded. "You are--glorious!" + +During the next hour, and while they were at supper, he could see that she +was purposely avoiding his eyes, and that she spoke oftener to Paul +Blackton than she did to him, apparently taking the keenest interest in his +friend's enthusiastic descriptions of the mighty work along the line of +steel. And as pretty Peggy Blackton never seemed quite so happy as when +listening to her husband, he was forced to content himself by looking at +Joanne most of the time, without once receiving her smile. + +The sun was just falling behind the western mountains when Peggy and +Joanne, hurried most incontinently by Blackton, who had looked at his +watch, left the table to prepare themselves for the big event of the +evening. + +"I want to get you there before dusk," he explained. "So please hurry!" + +They were back in five minutes. Joanne had slipped on a long gray coat, and +with a veil that trailed a yard down her back she had covered her head. +Not a curl or a tress of her hair had she left out of its filmy prison, and +there was a mischievous gleam of triumph in her eyes when she looked at +Aldous. + +A moment later, when they went ahead of Blackton and his wife to where the +buckboard was waiting for them, he said: + +"You put on that veil to punish me, Ladygray?" + +"It is a pretty veil," said she. + +"But your hair is prettier," said he. + +"And you embarrassed me very much by staring as you did, John Aldous!" + +"Forgive me. It is--I mean you are--so beautiful." + +"And you are sometimes--most displeasing," said she. "Your ingenuousness, +John Aldous, is shocking!" + +"Forgive me," he said again. + +"And you have known me but two days," she added. + +"Two days--is a long time," he argued. "One can be born, and live, and die +in two days. Besides, our trails have crossed for years." + +"But--it displeases me." + +"What I have said?" + +"Yes." + +"And the way I have looked at you?" + +"Yes." + +Her voice was low and quiet now, her eyes were serious, and she was not +smiling. + +"I know--I know," he groaned, and there was a deep thrill in his voice. +"It's been only two days after all, Ladygray. It seems like--like a +lifetime. I don't want you to think badly of me. God knows I don't!" + +"No, no. I don't," she said quickly and gently. "You are the finest +gentleman I ever knew, John Aldous. Only--it embarrasses me." + +"I will cut out my tongue and put out my eyes----" + +"Nothing so terrible," she laughed softly. "Will you help me into the +wagon? They are coming." + +She gave him her hand, warm and soft; and Blackton forced him into the seat +between her and Peggy, and Joanne's hand rested in his arm all the way to +the mountain that was to be blown up, and he told himself that he was a +fool if he were not supremely happy. The wagon stopped, and he helped her +out again, her warm little hand again close in his own, and when she looked +at him he was the cool, smiling John Aldous of old, so cool, and strong, +and unemotional that he saw surprise in her eyes first, and then that +gentle, gathering glow that came when she was proud of him, and pleased +with him. And as Blackton pointed out the mountain she unknotted the veil +under her chin and let it drop back over her shoulders, so that the last +light of the day fell richly in the trembling curls and thick coils of her +hair. + +"And that is my reward," said John Aldous, but he whispered it to himself. + +They had stopped close to a huge flat rock, and on this rock men were at +work fitting wires to a little boxlike thing that had a white button-lever. +Paul Blackton pointed to this, and his face was flushed with excitement. + +"That's the little thing that's going to blow it up, Miss Gray--the touch +of your finger on that little white button. Do you see that black base of +the mountain yonder?--right there where you can see men moving about? It's +half a mile from here, and the 'coyote' is there, dug into the wall of +it." + +The tremble of enthusiasm was in his voice as he went on, pointing with his +long arm: "Think of it! We're spending a hundred thousand dollars going +through that rock that people who travel on the Grand Trunk Pacific in the +future will be saved seven minutes in their journey from coast to coast! +We're spending a hundred thousand there, and millions along the line, that +we may have the smoothest roadbed in the world when we're done, and the +quickest route from sea to sea. It looks like waste, but it isn't. It's +science! It's the fight of competition! It's the determination behind the +forces--the determination to make this road the greatest road in the world! +Listen!" + +The gloom was thickening swiftly. The black mountain was fading slowly +away, and up out of that gloom came now ghostly and far-reaching voices of +men booming faintly through giant megaphones. + +"_Clear away! Clear away! Clear away!_" they said, and the valley and the +mountain-sides caught up the echoes, until it seemed that a hundred voices +were crying out the warning. Then fell a strange and weird silence, and the +echoes faded away like the voices of dying men, and all was still save the +far-away barking of a coyote that answered the mysterious challenges of the +night. Joanne was close to the rock. Quietly the men who had been working +on the battery drew back. + +"It is ready!" said one. + +"Wait!" said Blackton, as his wife went to speak, "Listen!" + +For five minutes there was silence. Then out of the night a single +megaphone cried the word: + +"_Fire!_" + +"All is clear," said the engineer, with a deep breath. "All you have to do, +Miss Gray, is to move that little lever from the side on which it now rests +to the opposite side. Are you ready?" + +In the darkness Joanne's left hand had sought John's. It clung to his +tightly. He could feel a little shiver run through her. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"Then--if you please--press the button!" + +Slowly Joanne's right hand crept out, while the fingers of her left clung +tighter to Aldous. She touched the button--thrust it over. A little cry +that fell from between her tense lips told them she had done the work, and +a silence like that of death fell on those who waited. + +A half a minute--perhaps three quarters--and a shiver ran under their feet, +but there was no sound; and then a black pall, darker than the night, +seemed to rise up out of the mountain, and with that, a second later, came +the explosion. There was a rumbling and a jarring, as if the earth were +convulsed under foot; volumes of dense black smoke shot upward, and in +another instant these rolling, twisting volumes of black became lurid, and +an explosion like that of a thousand great guns rent the air. As fast as +the eye could follow sheets of flame shot up out of the sea of smoke, +climbing higher and higher, in lightning flashes, until the lurid tongues +licked the air a quarter of a mile above the startled wilderness. Explosion +followed explosion, some of them coming in hollow, reverberating booms, +others sounding as if in midair. Unseen by the watchers, the heavens were +filled with hurtling rocks; solid masses of granite ten feet square were +thrown a hundred feet away; rocks weighing a ton were hurled still farther, +as if they were no more than stones flung by the hands of a giant; chunks +that would have crashed from the roof to the basement of a skyscraper +dropped a third of a mile away. For three minutes the frightful convulsions +continued, and the tongues of flame leaped into the night. Then the lurid +lights died out, shorter and shorter grew the sullen flashes, and then +again fell--silence! + +During those appalling moments, unconscious of the act, Joanne had shrank +close to Aldous, so that he felt the soft crush of her hair and the swift +movement of her bosom. Blackton's voice brought them back to life. + +He laughed, and it was the laugh of a man who had looked upon work well +done. + +"It has done the trick," he said. "To-morrow we will come and see. And I +have changed my plans about Coyote Number Twenty-eight. Hutchins, the +superintendent, is passing through in the afternoon, and I want him to see +it." He spoke now to a man who had come up out of the darkness. "Gregg, +have Twenty-eight ready at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon--four +o'clock--sharp!" + +Then he said: + +"Dust and a bad smell will soon be settling about us. Come, let's go home!" + +And as they went back to the buckboard wagon through the gloom John Aldous +still held Joanne's hand in his own, and she made no effort to take it from +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The next morning, when Aldous joined the engineer in the dining-room below, +he was disappointed to find the breakfast table prepared for two instead of +four. It was evident that Peggy Blackton and Joanne were not going to +interrupt their beauty nap on their account. + +Blackton saw his friend's inquiring look, and chuckled. + +"Guess we'll have to get along without 'em this morning, old man. Lord +bless me, did you hear them last night--after you went to bed?" + +"No." + +"You were too far away," chuckled Blackton again, "I was in the room across +the hall from them. You see, old man, Peggy sometimes gets fairly starved +for the right sort of company up here, and last night they didn't go to bed +until after twelve o'clock. I looked at my watch. Mebby they were in bed, +but I could hear 'em buzzing like two bees, and every little while they'd +giggle, and then go on buzzing again. By George, there wasn't a break in +it! When one let up the other'd begin, and sometimes I guess they were both +going at once. Consequently, they're sleeping now." + +When breakfast was finished Blackton looked at his watch. + +"Seven o'clock," he said. "We'll leave word for the girls to be ready at +nine. What are you going to do meantime, Aldous?" + +"Hunt up MacDonald, probably." + +"And I'll run down and take a look at the work." + +As they left the house the engineer nodded down the road. MacDonald was +coming. + +"He has saved you the trouble," he said. "Remember, Aldous--nine o'clock +sharp!" + +A moment later Aldous was advancing to meet the old mountaineer. + +"They've gone, Johnny," was Donald's first greeting. + +"Gone?" + +"Yes. The whole bunch--Quade, Culver Rann, DeBar, and the woman who rode +the bear. They've gone, hide and hair, and nobody seems to know where." + +Aldous was staring. + +"Also," resumed old Donald slowly, "Culver Rann's outfit is gone--twenty +horses, including six saddles. An' likewise others have gone, but I can't +find out who." + +"Gone!" repeated Aldous again. + +MacDonald nodded. + +"And that means----" + +"That Culver Rann ain't lost any time in gettin' under way for the gold," +said Donald. "DeBar is with him, an' probably the woman. Likewise three +cut-throats to fill the other saddles. They've gone prepared to fight." + +"And Quade?" + +Old Donald hunched his shoulders, and suddenly John's face grew dark and +hard. + +"I understand," he spoke, half under his breath. "Quade has +disappeared--but he isn't with Culver Rann. He wants us to believe he has +gone. He wants to throw us off our guard. But he's watching, and +waiting--somewhere--like a hawk, to swoop down on Joanne! He----" + +"That's it!" broke in MacDonald hoarsely. "That's it, Johnny! It's his old +trick--his old trick with women. There's a hunderd men who've got to do his +bidding--do it 'r get out of the mountains--an' we've got to watch Joanne. +We have, Johnny! If she should disappear----" + +Aldous waited. + +"You'd never find her again, so 'elp me God, you wouldn't, Johnny!" he +finished. + +"We'll watch her," said Aldous quietly. "I'll be with her to-day, Mac, and +to-night I'll come down to the camp in the coulee to compare notes with +you. They can't very well steal her out of Blackton's house while I'm +gone." + +For an hour after MacDonald left him he walked about in the neighbourhood +of the Blackton bungalow smoking his pipe. Not until he saw the contractor +drive up in the buckboard did he return. Joanne and Peggy were more than +prompt. They were waiting. If such a thing were possible Joanne was more +radiantly lovely than the night before. To Aldous she became more beautiful +every time he looked at her. But this morning he did not speak what was in +his heart when, for a moment, he held her hand, and looked into her eyes. +Instead, he said: + +"Good morning, Ladygray. Have you used----" + +"I have," she smiled. "Only it's Potterdam's Tar Soap, and not the other. +And you--have not shaved, John Aldous!" + +"Great Scott, so I haven't!" he exclaimed, rubbing his chin. "But I did +yesterday afternoon, Ladygray!" + +"And you will again this afternoon, if you please," she commanded. "I don't +like bristles." + +"But in the wilderness----" + +"One can shave as well as another can make curls," she reminded him, and +there came an adorable little dimple at the corner of her mouth as she +looked toward Paul Blackton. + +Aldous was glad that Paul and Peggy Blackton did most of the talking that +morning. They spent half an hour where the explosion of the night before +had blown out the side of the mountain, and then drove on to Coyote Number +Twenty-eight. It was in the face of a sandstone cliff, and all they could +see of it when they got out of the wagon was a dark hole in the wall of +rock. Not a soul was about, and Blackton rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. + +"Everything is completed," he said. "Gregg put in the last packing this +morning, and all we are waiting for now is four o'clock this afternoon." + +The hole in the mountain was perhaps four feet square. Ten feet in front of +it the engineer paused, and pointed to the ground. Up out of the earth came +two wires, which led away from the mouth of the cavern. + +"Those wires go down to the explosives," he explained. "They're battery +wires half a mile long. But we don't attach the battery until the final +moment, as you saw last night. There might be an accident." + +He bent his tall body and entered the mouth of the cavern, leading his wife +by the hand. Observing that Joanne had seen this attention on the +contractor's part, Aldous held out his own hand, and Joanne accepted it. +For perhaps twenty feet they followed the Blacktons with lowered heads. +They seemed to have entered a black, cold pit, sloping slightly downward, +and only faintly could they see Blackton when he straightened. + +His voice came strange and sepulchral: + +"You can stand up now. We're in the chamber. Don't move or you might +stumble over something. There ought to be a lantern here." + +He struck a match, and as he moved slowly toward a wall of blackness, +searching for the lantern, he called back encouragingly through the gloom: + +"You folks are now standing right over ten tons of dynamite, and there's +another five tons of black powder----" + +A little shriek from Peggy Blackton stopped him, and his match went out. + +"What in heaven's name is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Peggy----" + +"Why in heaven's name do you light a match then, with us standing over all +those tons of dynamite?" demanded Peggy. "Paul Blackton, you're----" + +The engineer's laughter was like a giant's roar in the cavern, and Joanne +gave a gasp, while Peggy shiveringly caught Aldous by the arm. + +"There--I've got the lantern!" exclaimed Blackton. "There isn't any danger, +not a bit. Wait a minute and I'll tell you all about it." He lighted the +lantern, and in the glow of it Joanne's and Peggy's faces were white and +startled. "Why, bless my soul, I didn't mean to frighten you!" he cried. "I +was just telling you facts. See, we're standing on a solid floor--four feet +of packed rock and cement. The dynamite and black powder are under that. +We're in a chamber--a cave--an artificial cavern. It's forty feet deep, +twenty wide, and about seven high." + +He held the lantern even with his shoulders and walked deeper into the +cavern as he spoke. The others followed. They passed a keg on which was a +half-burned candle. Close to the keg was an empty box. Beyond these things +the cavern was empty. + +"I thought it was full of powder and dynamite," apologized Peggy. + +"You see, it's like this," Blackton began. "We put the powder and dynamite +down there, and pack it over solid with rock and cement. If we didn't leave +this big air-chamber above it there would be only one explosion, and +probably two thirds of the explosive would not fire, and would be lost. +This chamber corrects that. You heard a dozen explosions last night, and +you'll hear a dozen this afternoon, and the biggest explosion of all is +usually the fourth or fifth. A 'coyote' isn't like an ordinary blast or +shot. It's a mighty expensive thing, and you see it means a lot of work. +Now, if some one were to touch off those explosives at this minute---- +What's the matter, Peggy? Are you cold? You're shivering!" + +"Ye-e-e-e-s!" chattered Peggy. + +Aldous felt Joanne tugging at his hand. + +"Let's take Mrs. Blackton out," she whispered. "I'm--I'm--afraid she'll +take cold!" + +In spite of himself Aldous could not restrain his laughter until they had +got through the tunnel. Out in the sunlight he looked at Joanne, still +holding her hand. She withdrew it, looking at him accusingly. + +"Lord bless me!" exclaimed Blackton, who seemed to understand at last. +"There's no danger--not a bit!" + +"But I'd rather look at it from outside, Paul, dear," said Mrs. Blackton. + +"But--Peggy--if it went off now you'd be in just as bad shape out here!" + +"I don't think we'd be quite so messy, really I don't, dear," she +persisted. + +"Lord bless me!" he gasped. + +"And they'd probably be able to find something of us," she added. + +"Not a button, Peggy!" + +"Then I'm going to move, if you please!" And suiting her action to the word +Peggy led the way to the buckboard. There she paused and took one of her +husband's big hands fondly in both her own. "It's perfectly wonderful, +Paul--and I'm proud of you!" she said. "But, honestly, dear, I can enjoy it +so much better at four o'clock this afternoon." + +Smiling, Blackton lifted her into the buckboard. + +"That's why I wish Paul had been a preacher or something like that," she +confided to Joanne as they drove homeward. "I'm growing old just thinking +of him working over that horrid dynamite and powder all the time. Every +little while some one is blown into nothing." + +"I believe," said Joanne, "that I'd like to do something like that if I +were a man. I'd want to be a man, not that preachers aren't men, Peggy, +dear--but I'd want to do things, like blowing up mountains for instance, or +finding buried cities, or"--she whispered, very, very softly under her +breath--"writing books, John Aldous!" + +Only Aldous heard those last words, and Joanne gave a sharp little cry; and +when Peggy asked her what the matter was Joanne did not tell her that John +Aldous had almost broken her hand on the opposite side--for Joanne was +riding between the two. + +"It's lame for life," she said to him half an hour later, when he was +bidding her good-bye, preparatory to accompanying Blackton down to the +working steel. "And I deserve it for trying to be kind to you. I think some +writers of books are--are perfectly intolerable!" + +"Won't you take a little walk with me right after dinner?" he was asking +for the twentieth time. + +"I doubt it very, very much." + +"Please, Ladygray!" + +"I may possibly think about it." + +With that she left him, and she did not look back as she and Peggy Blackton +went into the house. But as they drove away they saw two faces at the +window that overlooked the townward road, and two hands were waving +good-bye. Both could not be Peggy Blackton's hands. + +"Joanne and I are going for a walk this afternoon, Blackton," said Aldous, +"and I just want to tell you not to worry if we're not back by four +o'clock. Don't wait for us. We may be watching the blow-up from the top of +some mountain." + +Blackton chuckled. + +"Don't blame you," he said. "From an observer's point of view, John, it +looks to me as though you were going to have something more than hope to +live on pretty soon!" + +"I--I hope so." + +"And when I was going with Peggy I wouldn't have traded a quiet little walk +with her--like this you're suggesting--for a front seat look at a blow-up +of the whole Rocky Mountain system!" + +"And you won't forget to tell Mrs. Blackton that we may not return by four +o'clock?" + +"I will not. And"--Blackton puffed hard at his pipe--"and, John--the Tete +Jaune preacher is our nearest neighbour," he finished. + +From then until dinner time John Aldous lived in an atmosphere that was not +quite real, but a little like a dream. His hopes and his happiness were at +their highest. He knew that Joanne would go walking with him that +afternoon, and in spite of his most serious efforts to argue to the +contrary he could not keep down the feeling that the event would mean a +great deal for him. Almost feverishly he interested himself in Paul +Blackton's work. When they returned to the bungalow, a little before noon, +he went to his room, shaved himself, and in other ways prepared for dinner. + +Joanne and the Blacktons were waiting when he came down. + +His first look at Joanne assured him. She was dressed in a soft gray +walking-suit. Never had the preparation of a dinner seemed so slow to him, +and a dozen times he found himself inwardly swearing at Tom, the Chinese +cook. It was one o'clock before they sat down at the table and it was two +o'clock when they arose. It was a quarter after two when Joanne and he left +the bungalow. + +"Shall we wander up on the mountain?" he asked. "It would be fine to look +down upon the explosion." + +"I have noticed that in some things you are very observant," said Joanne, +ignoring his question. "In the matter of curls, for instance, you are +unapproachable; in others you are--quite blind, John Aldous!" + +"What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered. + +"I lost my scarf this morning, and you did not notice it. It is quite an +unusual scarf. I bought it in Cairo, and I don't want to have it blown up." + +"You mean----" + +"Yes. I must have dropped it in the cavern. I had it when we entered." + +"Then we'll return for it," he volunteered. "We'll still have plenty of +time to climb up the mountain before the explosion." + +Twenty minutes later they came to the dark mouth of the tunnel. There was +no one in sight, and for a moment Aldous searched for matches in his +pocket. + +"Wait here," he said. "I won't be gone two minutes." + +He entered, and when he came to the chamber he struck a match. The lantern +was on the empty box. He lighted it, and began looking for the scarf. +Suddenly he heard a sound. He turned, and saw Joanne standing in the glow +of the lantern. + +"Can you find it?" she asked. + +"I haven't--yet." + +They bent over the rock floor, and in a moment Joanne gave a little +exclamation of pleasure as she caught up the scarf. In that same moment, as +they straightened and faced each other, John Aldous felt his heart cease +beating, and Joanne's face had gone as white as death. The rock-walled +chamber was atremble; they heard a sullen, distant roaring, and as Aldous +caught Joanne's hand and sprang toward the tunnel the roar grew into a +deafening crash, and a gale of wind rushed into their faces, blowing out +the lantern, and leaving them in darkness. The mountain seemed crumbling +about them, and above the sound of it rang out a wild, despairing cry from +Joanne's lips. For there was no longer the brightness of sunshine at the +end of the tunnel, but darkness--utter darkness; and through that tunnel +there came a deluge of dust and rock that flung them back into the +blackness of the pit, and separated them. + +"John--John Aldous!" + +"I am here, Joanne! I will light the lantern!" + +His groping hands found the lantern. He relighted it, and Joanne crept to +his side, her face as white as the face of the dead. He held the lantern +above him, and together they stared at where the tunnel had been. A mass of +rock met their eyes. The tunnel was choked. And then, slowly, each turned +to the other; and each knew that the other understood--for it was Death +that whispered about them now in the restless air of the rock-walled tomb, +a terrible death, and their lips spoke no words as their eyes met in that +fearful and silent understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Joanne's white lips spoke first. + +"The tunnel is closed!" she whispered. + +Her voice was strange. It was not Joanne's voice. It was unreal, terrible, +and her eyes were terrible as they looked steadily into his. Aldous could +not answer; something had thickened in his throat, and his blood ran cold +as he stared into Joanne's dead-white face and saw the understanding in her +eyes. For a space he could not move, and then, as suddenly as it had fallen +upon him, the effect of the shock passed away. + +[Illustration: "The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means we +have just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."] + +He smiled, and put out a hand to her. + +"A slide of rock has fallen over the mouth of the tunnel," he said, forcing +himself to speak as if it meant little or nothing. "Hold the lantern, +Joanne, while I get busy." + +"A slide of rock," she repeated after him dumbly. + +She took the lantern, her eyes still looking at him in that stricken way, +and with his naked hands John Aldous set to work. Five minutes and he knew +that it was madness to continue. Hands alone could not clear the tunnel. +And yet he worked, tearing into the rock and shale like an animal; rolling +back small boulders, straining at larger ones until the tendons of his arms +seemed ready to snap and his veins to burst. For a few minutes after that +he went mad. His muscles cracked, he panted as he fought with the rock +until his hands were torn and bleeding, and over and over again there ran +through his head Blackton's last words--_Four o'clock this afternoon!--Four +o'clock this afternoon!_ + +Then he came to what he knew he would reach very soon, a solid wall! Rock +and shale and earth were packed as if by battering rams. For a few moments +he fought to control himself before facing Joanne. Over him swept the grim +realization that his last fight must be for her. He steadied himself, and +wiped the dust and grime from his face with his handkerchief. For the last +time he swallowed hard. His soul rose within him almost joyously now in the +face of this last great fight, and he turned--John Aldous, the super-man. +There was no trace of fear in his face as he went to her. He was even +smiling in that ghostly glow of the lantern. + +"It is hard work, Joanne." + +She did not seem to hear what he had said. She was looking at his hands. +She held the lantern nearer. + +"Your hands are bleeding, John!" + +It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he was +thrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of her +hand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raised +her eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he had +gazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, and +the moment was weighted with an appalling silence. + +It came to them both in that instant--the _tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in +his pocket! + +Without taking her eyes from his face she asked: + +"What time is it. John?" + +"Joanne----" + +"I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I am +not afraid now. What time is it, John?" + +"My God--they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't think +they won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide has +covered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger--none at +all. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!" + +"What time is it?" she repeated softly. + +For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he saw +that she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivory +cross she was smiling at him--yes! she was smiling at him in that gray and +ghastly death-gloom of the cavern! + +He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it. + +"A quarter after three," he said. "By four o'clock they will be at +work--Blackton and twenty men. They will have us out in time for supper." + +"A quarter after three," repeated Joanne, and the words came steadily from +her lips. "That means----" + +He waited. + +"_We have forty-five minutes in which to live!_" she said. + +Before he could speak she had thrust the lantern into his hand, and had +seized his other hand in both her own. + +"If there are only forty-five minutes let us not lie to one another," she +said, and her voice was very close. "I know why you are doing it, John +Aldous. It is for me. You have done a great deal for me in these two days +in which one 'can be born, and live, and die.' But in these last minutes +I do not want you to act what I know cannot be the truth. You know--and I +know. The wires are laid to the battery rock. There is no hope. At four +o'clock--we both know what will happen. And I--am not afraid." + +She heard him choking for speech. In a moment he said: + +"There are other lanterns--Joanne. I saw them when I was looking for the +scarf. I will light them." + +He found two lanterns hanging against the rock wall. He lighted them, and +the half-burned candle. + +"It is pleasanter," she said. + +She stood in the glow of them when he turned to her, tall, and straight, +and as beautiful as an angel. Her lips were pale; the last drop of blood +had ebbed from her face; but there was something glorious in the poise of +her head, and in the wistful gentleness of her mouth and the light in her +eyes. And then, slowly, as he stood looking with a face torn in its agony +for her, she held out her arms. + +"John--John Aldous----" + +"Joanne! Oh, my God!--Joanne!" + +She swayed as he sprang to her, but she was smiling--smiling in that new +and wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heard +her say came low and sobbing: + +"John--John, if you want to, now--you can tell me that my hair is +beautiful!" + +And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him, +her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and over +again she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushed +forth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetful +of time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, her +hair, her eyes--conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life, +that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and that +over and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that she +loved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made him +free her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love had +overridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colour +and in her eyes was its glory. + +And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came--almost like +the benediction of a cathedral bell--the soft, low tinkling chime of the +half-hour bell in Aldous' watch! + +It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, and +his torn hands clenched tightly at his sides. + +"Joanne--Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her close +in his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "I +have lived for you, I have waited for you--all these years you have been +coming, coming, coming to me--and now that you are mine--_mine_--it is +impossible! It cannot happen----" + +He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined the +packed tunnel. It was solid--not a crevice or a break through which might +have travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did not +shout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would be +terrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might be +some other opening--a possible exit--in that mountain wall? With the +lantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back to +Joanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he looked +at her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went to +her. + +"Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you are +not afraid?" + +"No, I am not afraid." + +"And you know----" + +"Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly against +their clasped hands and partly upon his breast. + +"And you love me, Joanne?" + +"As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered. + +"And yet it has been but two days----" + +"And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly. + +"You would be my wife?" + +"Yes." + +"To-morrow?" + +"If you wanted me then, John." + +"I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me without +reservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me--you would come to me +body, and heart, and soul?" + +"In all those ways--yes." + +"I thank God," he breathed again. + +He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her love +grew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little for +him to kiss. + +"Oh, I was happy--so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face. +"John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keep +myself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraid +you wouldn't tell me--before it happened. And John--John----" + +She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows in +her hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her--her glorious +hair--covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept and +piled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, and +shoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it. + +He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lips +pressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears, +pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the +_tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in his pocket. + +"Joanne," he whispered. + +"Yes, John." + +"You are not afraid of--death?" + +"No, not when you are holding me like this, John." + +He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips. + +"Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, my +John!" + +Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns. + +"What time is it?" she asked. + +He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold. + +"Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice. +"Let us sit down, John--you on this box, and I on the floor, at your +feet--like this." + +He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, her +hands clasped in his. + +"I think, John," she said softly, "that very, very often we would have +visited like this--you and I--in the evening." + +A lump choked him, and he could not answer. + +"I would very often have come and perched myself at your feet like this." + +"Yes, yes, my beloved." + +"And you would always have told me how beautiful my hair was--always. You +would not have forgotten that, John--or have grown tired?" + +"No, no--never!" + +His arms were about her. He was drawing her closer. + +"And we would have had beautiful times together, John--writing, and going +adventuring, and--and----" + +He felt her trembling, throbbing, and her arms tightened about him. + +And now, again up through the smother of her hair, came the +_tick-tick-tick_ of his watch. + +He felt her fumbling at his watch pocket, and in a moment she was holding +the timepiece between them, so that the light of the lantern fell on the +face of it. + +"It is three minutes of four, John." + +The watch slipped from her fingers, and now she drew herself up so that her +arms were about his neck, and their faces touched. + +"Dear John, you love me?" + +"So much that even now, in the face of death, I am happy," he whispered. +"Joanne, sweetheart, we are not going to be separated. We are +going--together. Through all eternity it must be like this--you and I, +together. Little girl, wind your hair about me--tight!" + +"There--and there--and there, John! I have tied you to me, and you are +buried in it! Kiss me, John----" + +And then the wild and terrible fear of a great loneliness swept through +him. For Joanne's voice had died away in a whispering breath, and the lips +he kissed did not kiss him back, and her body lay heavy, heavy, heavy in +his arms. Yet in his loneliness he thanked God for bringing her oblivion in +these last moments, and with his face crushed to hers he waited. For he +knew that it was no longer a matter of minutes, but of seconds, and in +those seconds he prayed, until up through the warm smother of her +hair--with the clearness of a tolling bell--came the sound of the little +gong in his watch striking the Hour of Four! + +In space other worlds might have crumbled into ruin; on earth the stories +of empires might have been written and the lives of men grown old in those +first century-long seconds in which John Aldous held his breath and waited +after the chiming of the hour-bell in the watch on the cavern floor. How +long he waited he did not know; how closely he was crushing Joanne to his +breast he did not realize. Seconds, minutes, and other minutes--and his +brain ran red in dumb, silent madness. And the watch! It _ticked, ticked, +ticked!_ It was like a hammer. + +He had heard the sound of it first coming up through her hair. But it was +not in her hair now. It was over him, about him--it was no longer a +ticking, but a throb, a steady, jarring, beating throb. It grew louder, +and the air stirred with it. He lifted his head. With the eyes of a madman +he stared--and listened. His arms relaxed from about Joanne, and she +slipped crumpled and lifeless to the floor. He stared--and that steady +_beat-beat-beat_--a hundred times louder than the ticking of a +watch--pounded in his brain. Was he mad? He staggered to the choked mouth +of the tunnel, and then there fell shout upon shout, and shriek upon shriek +from his lips, and twice, like a madman now, he ran back to Joanne and +caught her up in his arms, calling and sobbing her name, and then +shouting--and calling her name again. She moved; her eyes opened, and like +one gazing upon the spirit of the dead she looked into the face of John +Aldous, a madman's face in the lantern-glow. + +"John--John----" + +She put up her hands, and with a cry he ran with her in his arms to the +choked tunnel. + +"Listen! Listen!" he cried wildly. "Dear God in Heaven, Joanne--can you not +hear them? It's Blackton--Blackton and his men! Hear--hear the rock-hammers +smashing! Joanne--Joanne--we are saved!" + +She did not sense him. She swayed, half on her feet, half in his arms, as +consciousness and reason returned to her. Dazedly her hands went to his +face in their old, sweet way. Aldous saw her struggling to understand--to +comprehend; and he kissed her soft upturned lips, fighting back the +excitement that made him want to raise his voice again in wild and joyous +shouting. + +"It is Blackton!" he said over and over again. "It is Blackton and his men! +Listen!--you can hear their picks and the pounding of their rock-hammers!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +At last Joanne realized that the explosion was not to come, that Blackton +and his men were working to save them. And now, as she listened with him, +her breath began to come in sobbing excitement between her lips--for there +was no mistaking that sound, that steady _beat-beat-beat_ that came from +beyond the cavern wall and seemed to set strange tremors stirring in the +air about their ears. For a few moments they stood stunned and silent, as +if not yet quite fully comprehending that they had come from out of the pit +of death, and that men were fighting for their rescue. They asked +themselves no questions--why the "coyote" had not been fired? how those +outside knew they were in the cavern. And, as they listened, there came to +them a voice. It was faint, so faint that it seemed to whisper to them +through miles and miles of space--yet they knew that it was a voice! + +"Some one is shouting," spoke Aldous tensely. "Joanne, my darling, stand +around the face of the wall so flying rock will not strike you and I will +answer with my pistol!" + +When he had placed her in safety from split lead and rock chips, he drew +his automatic and fired it close up against the choked tunnel. He fired +five times, steadily, counting three between each shot, and then he placed +his ear to the mass of stone and earth and listened. Joanne slipped to him +like a shadow. Her hand sought his, and they held their breaths. They no +longer heard sounds--nothing but the crumbling and falling of dust and +pebbles where the bullets had struck, and their own heart-beats. The picks +and rock-hammers had ceased. + +Tighter and tighter grew the clasp of Joanne's fingers, and a terrible +thought flashed into John's brain. Perhaps a, rock from the slide had cut a +wire, and they had found the wire--had repaired it! Was that thought in +Joanne's mind, too? Her finger-nails pricked his flesh. He looked at her. +Her eyes were closed, and her lips were tense and gray. And then her eyes +shot open--wide and staring. They heard, faintly though it came to +them--once, twice, three times, four, five--the firing of a gun! + +John Aldous straightened, and a great breath fell from his lips. + +"Five times!" he said. "It is an answer. There is no longer doubt." + +He was holding out his arms to her, and she came into them with a choking +cry; and now she sobbed like a little child with her head against his +breast, and for many minutes he held her close, kissing her wet face, and +her damp hair, and her quivering lips, while the beat of the picks and the +crash of the rock-hammers came steadily nearer. + +Where those picks and rock-hammers fell a score of men were working like +fiends: Blackton, his arms stripped to the shoulders; Gregg, sweating and +urging the men; and among them--lifting and tearing at the rock like a +madman--old Donald MacDonald, his shirt open, his great hands bleeding, his +hair and beard tossing about him in the wind. Behind them, her hands +clasped to her breast--crying out to them to hurry, _hurry_--stood Peggy +Blackton. The strength of five men was in every pair of arms. Huge boulders +were rolled back. Men pawed earth and shale with their naked hands. +Rock-hammers fell with blows that would have cracked the heart of a granite +obelisk. Half an hour--three quarters--and Blackton came back to where +Peggy was standing, his face black and grimed, his arms red-seared where +the edges of the rocks had caught them, his eyes shining. + +"We're almost there, Peggy," he panted. "Another five minutes and----" + +A shout interrupted him. A cloud of dust rolled out of the mouth of the +tunnel, and into that dust rushed half a dozen men led by old Donald. +Before the dust had settled they began to reappear, and with a shrill +scream Peggy Blackton darted forward and flung her arms about the +gold-shrouded figure of Joanne, swaying and laughing and sobbing in the +sunshine. And old Donald, clasping his great arms about Aldous, cried +brokenly: + +"Oh, Johnny, Johnny--something told me to foller ye--an' I was just in +time--just in time to see you go into the coyote!" + +"God bless you, Mac!" said Aldous, and then Paul Blackton was wringing his +hands; and one after another the others shook his hand, but Peggy Blackton +was crying like a baby as she hugged Joanne in her arms. + +"MacDonald came just in time," explained Blackton a moment later; and he +tried to speak steadily, and tried to smile. "Ten minutes more, and----" + +He was white. + +"Now that it has turned out like this I thank God that it happened, Paul," +said Aldous, for the engineer's ears alone. "We thought we were facing +death, and so--I told her. And in there, on our knees, we pledged ourselves +man and wife. I want the minister--as quick as you can get him, Blackton. +Don't say anything to Joanne, but bring him to the house right away, will +you?" + +"Within half an hour," replied Blackton. "There comes Tony with the +buckboard. We'll hustle up to the house and I'll have the preacher there in +a jiffy." + +As they went to the wagon, Aldous looked about for MacDonald. He had +disappeared. Requesting Gregg to hunt him up and send him to the bungalow, +he climbed into the back seat, with Joanne between him and Peggy. Her +little hand lay in his. Her fingers clung to him. But her hair hid her +face, and on the other side of her Peggy Blackton was laughing and talking +and crying by turns. + +As they entered the bungalow, Aldous whispered to Joanne: + +"Will you please go right to your room, dear? I want to say something to +you--alone." + +When she went up the stair, Peggy caught a signal from her husband. Aldous +remained with them. In two minutes he told the bewildered and finally +delighted Peggy what was going to happen, and as Blackton hustled out for +the minister's house he followed Joanne. She had fastened her door behind +her. He knocked. Slowly she opened it. + +"John----" + +"I have told them, dear," he whispered happily. "They understand. And, +Joanne, Paul Blackton will be back in ten minutes--with the minister. Are +you glad?" + +She had opened the door wide, and he was heading out his arms to her again. +For a moment she did not move, but stood there trembling a little, and +deeper and sweeter grew the colour in her face, and tenderer the look in +her eyes. + +"I must brush my hair," she answered, as though she could think of no other +words. "I--I must dress." + +Laughing joyously, he went to her and gathered the soft masses of her hair +in his hands, and piled it up in a glorious disarray about her face and +head, holding it there, and still laughing into her eyes. + +"Joanne, you are mine!" + +"Unless I have been dreaming--I am, John Aldous!" + +"Forever and forever." + +"Yes, forever--and ever." + +"And because I want the whole world to know, we are going to be married by +a minister." + +She was silent. + +"And as my wife to be," he went on, his voice trembling with his happiness, +"you must obey me!" + +"I think that I shall, John." + +"Then you will not brush your hair, and you will not change your dress, and +you will not wash the dust from your face and that sweet little beauty-spot +from the tip of your nose," he commanded, and now he drew her head close to +him, so that he whispered, half in her hair: "Joanne, my darling, I want +you _wholly_ as you came to me there, when we thought we were going to die. +It was there you promised to become my wife, and I want you as you were +then--when the minister comes." + +"John, I think I hear some one coming up the front steps!" + +They listened. The door opened. They heard voices--Blackton's voice, +Peggy's voice, and another voice--a man's voice. + +Blackton's voice came up to them very distinctly. + +"Mighty lucky, Peggy," he said. "Caught Mr. Wollaver just as he was passing +the house. Where's----" + +"Sh-h-hh!" came Peggy Blackton's sibilant whisper. + +Joanne's hands had crept to John's face. + +"I think," she said, "that it is the minister, John." + +Her warm lips were near, and he kissed them. + +"Come, Joanne. We will go down." + +Hand in hand they went down the stair; and when the minister saw Joanne, +covered in the tangle and glory of her hair; and when he saw John Aldous, +with half-naked arms and blackened face; and when, with these things, he +saw the wonderful joy shining in their eyes, he stood like one struck dumb +at sight of a miracle descending out of the skies. For never had Joanne +looked more beautiful than in this hour, and never had man looked more like +entering into paradise than John Aldous. + +Short and to the point was the little mountain minister's service, and when +he had done he shook hands with them, and again he stared at them as they +went back up the stair, still hand in hand. At her door they stopped. There +were no words to speak now, as her heart lay against his heart, and her +lips against his lips. And then, after those moments, she drew a little +back, and there came suddenly that sweet, quivering, joyous play of her +lips as she said: + +"And now, my husband, may I dress my hair?" + +"My hair," he corrected, and let her go from his arms. + +Her door closed behind her. A little dizzily he turned to his room. His +hand was on the knob when he heard her speak his name. She had reopened her +door, and stood with something in her hand, which she was holding toward +him. He went back, and she gave him a photograph. + +"John, you will destroy this," she whispered. "It is his +photograph--Mortimer FitzHugh's. I brought it to show to people, that it +might help me in my search. Please--destroy it!" + +He returned to his room and placed the photograph on his table. It was +wrapped in thin paper, and suddenly there came upon him a most compelling +desire to see what Mortimer FitzHugh had looked like in life. Joanne would +not care. Perhaps it would be best for him to know. + +He tore off the paper. And as he looked at the picture the hot blood in his +veins ran cold. He stared--stared as if some wild and maddening joke was +being played upon his faculties. A cry rose to his lips and broke in a +gasping breath, and about him the floor, the world itself, seemed slipping +away from under his feet. + +For the picture he held in his hand was the picture of Culver Rann! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +For a minute, perhaps longer, John Aldous stood staring at the photograph +which he held in his hand. It was the picture of Culver Rann--not once did +he question that fact, and not once did the thought flash upon him that +this might be only an unusual and startling resemblance. It was assuredly +Culver Rann! The picture dropped from his hand to the table, and he went +toward the door. His first impulse was to go to Joanne. But when he reached +the door he locked it, and dropped into a chair, facing the mirror in his +dresser. + +The reflection of his own face was a shock to him. If he was pale, the dust +and grime of his fight in the cavern concealed his pallor. But the face +that stared at him from out of the glass was haggard, wildly and almost +grotesquely haggard, and he turned from it with a grim laugh, and set his +jaws hard. He returned to the table, and bit by bit tore the photograph +into thin shreds, and then piled the shreds on his ash-tray and burned +them. He opened a window to let out the smoke and smell of charring paper, +and the fresh, cool air of early evening struck his face. He could look off +through the fading sunshine of the valley and see the mountain where Coyote +Number Twenty-eight was to have done its work, and as he looked he gripped +the window-sill so fiercely that the nails of his fingers were bent and +broken against the wood. And in his brain the same words kept repeating +themselves over and over again. Mortimer FitzHugh was not dead. He was +alive. He was Culver Rann. And Joanne--Joanne was not _his_ wife; she was +still the wife of Mortimer FitzHugh--of Culver Rann! + +He turned again to the mirror, and there was another look in his face. It +was grim, terribly grim--and smiling. There was no excitement, nothing of +the passion and half-madness with which he had faced Quade and Rann the +night before. He laughed softly, and his nails dug as harshly into the +palms of his hands as they had dug into the sills of the window. + +"You poor, drivelling, cowardly fool!" he said to his reflection. "And you +dare to say--you dare to _think_ that she is not your wife?" + +As if in reply to his words there came a knock at the door, and from the +hall Blackton called: + +"Here's MacDonald, Aldous. He wants to see you." + +Aldous opened the door and the old hunter entered. + +"If I ain't interruptin' you, Johnny----" + +"You're the one man in the world I want to see, Mac. No, I'll take that +back; there's one other I want to see worse than you--Culver Rann." + +The strange look in his face made old Donald stare. + +"Sit down," he said, drawing two chairs close to the table. "There's +something to talk about. It was a terribly close shave, wasn't it?" + +"An awful close shave, Johnny. As close a shave as ever was." + +Still, as if not quite understanding what he saw, old Donald was staring +into John's face. + +"I'm glad it happened," said Aldous, and his voice became softer. "She +loves me, Mac. It all came out when we were in there, and thought we were +going to die. Not ten minutes ago the minister was here, and he made us man +and wife." + +Words of gladness that sprang to the old man's lips were stopped by that +strange, cold, tense look in the face of John Aldous. + +"And in the last five minutes," continued Aldous, as quietly as before, "I +have learned that Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband, is not dead. Is it very +remarkable that you do not find me happy, Mac? If you had come a few +minutes ago----" + +"Oh, my God! Johnny! Johnny!" + +MacDonald had pitched forward over the table, and now he bowed his great +shaggy head in his hands, and his gaunt shoulders shook as his voice came +brokenly through his beard. + +"I did it, Johnny; I did it for you an' her! When I knew what it would mean +for her--I _couldn't_, Johnny, I couldn't tell her the truth, 'cause I knew +she loved you, an' you loved her, an' it would break her heart. I thought +it would be best, an' you'd go away together, an' nobody would ever know, +an' you'd be happy. I didn't lie. I didn't say anything. But +Johnny--Johnny, _there weren't no bones in the grave!_" + +"My God!" breathed Aldous. + +"There were just some clothes," went on MacDonald huskily, "an' the watch +an' the ring were on top. Johnny, there weren't nobody ever buried there, +an' I'm to blame--I'm to blame." + +"And you did that for us," cried Aldous, and suddenly he reached over and +gripped old Donald's hands. "It wasn't a mistake, Mac. I thank God you kept +silent. If you had told her that the grave was empty, that it was a fraud, +I don't know what would have happened. And now--she is _mine!_ If she had +seen Culver Rann, if she had discovered that this scoundrel, this +blackmailer and murderer, was Mortimer FitzHugh, her husband----" + +"Johnny! John Aldous!" + +Donald MacDonald's voice came now like the deep growling roar of a +she-bear, and as he cried the other's name he sprang to his feet, and his +eyes gleamed in their deep sockets like raging fires. + +"Johnny!" + +Aldous rose, and he was smiling. He nodded. + +"That's it," he said. "Mortimer FitzHugh is Culver Rann!" + +"An'--an' you know this?" + +"Absolutely. Joanne gave me Mortimer FitzHugh's photograph to destroy. I am +sorry that I burned it before you saw it. But there is no doubt. Mortimer +FitzHugh and Culver Rann are the same man." + +Slowly the old mountaineer turned to the door. Aldous was ahead of him, and +stood with his hand on the knob. + +"I don't want you to go yet, Mac." + +"I--I'll see you a little later," said Donald clumsily. + +"Donald!" + +"Johnny!" + +For a full half minute they looked steadily into each other's eyes. + +"Only a week, Johnny," pleaded Donald. "I'll be back in a week." + +"You mean that you will kill him?" + +"He'll never come back. I swear it, Johnny!" + +As gently as he might have led Joanne, Aldous drew the mountaineer back to +the chair. + +"That would be cold-blooded murder," he said, "and I would be the murderer. +I can't send you out to do my killing, Mac, as I might send out a hired +assassin. Don't you see that I can't? Good heaven, some day--very soon--I +will tell you how this hound, Mortimer FitzHugh, poisoned Joanne's life, +and did his worst to destroy her. It's to me he's got to answer, Donald. +And to me he shall answer. I am going to kill him. But it will not be +murder. Since you have come into this room I have made my final plan, and I +shall follow it to the end coolly and deliberately. It will be a great +game, Mac--and it will be a fair game; and I shall play it happily, because +Joanne will not know, and I will be strengthened by her love. + +"Quade wants my life, and tried to hire Stevens, up at Miette, to kill me. +Culver Rann wants my life; a little later it will come to be the greatest +desire of his existence to have me dead and out of the way. I shall give +him the chance to do the killing, Mac. I shall give him a splendid chance, +and he will not fail to accept his opportunity. Perhaps he will have an +advantage, but I am as absolutely certain of killing him as I am that the +sun is going down behind the mountains out there. If others should step +in, if I should have more than Culver Rann on my hands--why, then you may +deal yourself a hand if you like, Donald. It may be a bigger game than One +against One." + +"It will," rumbled MacDonald. "I learned other things early this afternoon, +Johnny. Quade did not stay behind. He went with Rann. DeBar and the woman +are with them, and two other men. They went over the Lone Cache Pass, and +this minute are hurrying straight for the headwaters of the Parsnip. There +are five of 'em--five men." + +"And we are two," smiled Aldous. "So there _is_ an advantage on their side, +isn't there, Mac? And it makes the game most eminently fair, doesn't it?" + +"Johnny, we're good for the five!" cried old Donald in a low, eager voice. +"If we start now----" + +"Can you have everything ready by morning?" + +"The outfit's waiting. It's ready now, Johnny." + +"Then we'll leave at dawn. I'll come to you to-night in the coulee, and +we'll make our final plans. My brain is a little muddled now, and I've got +to clear it, and make myself presentable before supper. We must not let +Joanne know. She must suspect nothing--absolutely nothing." + +"Nothing," repeated MacDonald as he went to the door. + +There he paused and, hesitating for a moment, leaned close to Aldous, and +said in a low voice: + +"Johnny, I've been wondering why the grave were empty. I've been wondering +why there weren't somebody's bones there just t' give it the look it should +'a' had an' why the clothes were laid out so nicely with the watch an' the +ring on top!" + +With that he was gone, and Aldous closed and relocked the door. + +He was amazed at his own composure as he washed himself and proceeded to +dress for supper. What had happened had stunned him at first, had even +terrified him for a few appalling moments. Now he was superbly +self-possessed. He asked himself questions and answered them with a +promptness which left no room for doubt in his mind as to what his actions +should be. One fact he accepted as absolute: Joanne belonged to him. She +was his wife. He regarded her as that, even though Mortimer FitzHugh was +alive. In the eyes of both God and man FitzHugh no longer had a claim upon +her. This man, who was known as Culver Rann, was worse than Quade, a +scoundrel of the first water, a procurer, a blackmailer, even a +murderer--though he had thus far succeeded in evading the rather loose and +poorly working tentacles of mountain law. + +Not for an instant did he think of Joanne as Culver Rann's wife. She was +_his_ wife. It was merely a technicality of the law--a technicality that +Joanne might break with her little finger--that had risen now between them +and happiness. And it was this that he knew was the mountain in his path, +for he was certain that Joanne would not break that last link of bondage. +She would know, with Mortimer FitzHugh alive, that the pledge between them +in the "coyote," and the marriage ceremony in the room below, meant +nothing. Legally, she was no more to him now than she was yesterday, or the +day before. And she would leave him, even if it destroyed her, heart and +soul. He was sure of that. For years she had suffered her heart to be +ground out of her because of the "bit of madness" that was in her, because +of that earlier tragedy in her life--and her promise, her pledge to her +father, her God, and herself. Without arguing a possible change in her +because of her love for him, John Aldous accepted these things. He believed +that if he told Joanne the truth he would lose her. + +His determination not to tell her, to keep from her the secret of the grave +and the fact that Mortimer FitzHugh was alive, grew stronger in him with +each breath that he drew. He believed that it was the right thing to do, +that it was the honourable and the only thing to do. Now that the first +shock was over, he did not feel that he had lost Joanne, or that there was +a very great danger of losing her. For a moment it occurred to him that he +might turn the law upon Culver Rann, and in the same breath he laughed at +this absurdity. The law could not help him. He alone could work out his own +and Joanne's salvation. And what was to happen must happen very soon--up in +the mountains. When it was all over, and he returned, he would tell Joanne. + +His heart beat more quickly as he finished dressing. In a few minutes more +he would be with Joanne, and in spite of what had happened, and what might +happen, he was happy. Yesterday he had dreamed. To-day was reality--and it +was a glorious reality. Joanne belonged to him. She loved him. She was his +wife, and when he went to her it was with the feeling that only a serpent +lay in the path of their paradise--a serpent which he would crush with as +little compunction as that serpent would have destroyed her. Utterly and +remorselessly his mind was made up. + +The Blacktons' supper hour was five-thirty, and he was a quarter of an hour +late when he tapped at Joanne's door. He felt the warmth of a strange and +delightful embarrassment flushing his face as the door opened, and she +stood before him. In her face, too, was a telltale riot of colour which the +deep tan partly concealed in his own. + +"I--I am a little late, am I not, Joanne?" he asked. + +"You are, sir. If you have taken all this time dressing you are worse than +a woman. I have been waiting fifteen minutes!" + +"Old Donald came to see me," he apologized. "Joanne----" + +"You mustn't, John!" she expostulated in a whisper. "My face is afire now! +You mustn't kiss me again--until after supper----" + +"Only once," he pleaded. + +"If you will promise--just once----" + +A moment later she gasped: + +"Five times! John Aldous, I will never believe you again as long as I +live!" + +They went down to the Blacktons, and Peggy and Paul, who were busy over +some growing geraniums in the dining-room window, faced about with a forced +and incongruous appearance of total oblivion to everything that had +happened. It lasted less than ten seconds. Joanne's lips quivered. Aldous +saw the two little dimples at the corners of her mouth fighting to keep +themselves out of sight--and then he looked at Peggy. Blackton could stand +it no longer, and grinned broadly. + +"For goodness sake go to it, Peggy!" he laughed. "If you don't you'll +explode!" + +The next moment Peggy and Joanne were in each other's arms, and the two men +were shaking hands. + +"We know just how you feel," Blackton tried to explain. "We felt just like +you do, only we had to face twenty people instead of two. And you're not +hungry. I'll wager that. I'll bet you don't feel like swallowing a +mouthful. It had that peculiar effect on us, didn't it, Peggy?" + +"And I--I almost choked myself," gurgled Peggy as they took their places at +the table. "There really did seem to be something thick in my throat, +Joanne, dear. I coughed and coughed and coughed before all those people +until I wanted to die right there! And I'm wondering----" + +"If I'm going to choke, too?" smiled Joanne. "Indeed not, Peggy. I'm as +hungry as a bear!" + +And now she did look glorious and self-possessed to Aldous as she sat +opposite him at that small round table, which was just fitted for four. He +told her so when the meal was finished, and they were following the +Blacktons into the front room. Blackton had evidently been carefully +drilled along the line of a certain scheme which Peggy had formed, for in +spite of a negative nod from her, which signified that he was to wait a +while, he pulled out his watch, and said: + +"It isn't at all surprising if you people have forgotten that to-morrow is +Sunday. Peggy and I always do some Saturday-night shopping, and if you +don't mind, we'll leave you to care for the house while we go to town. We +won't be gone more than an hour." + +A few minutes later, when the door had closed behind them, Aldous led +Joanne to a divan, and sat down beside her. + +"I couldn't have arranged it better myself, dear," he exclaimed. "I have +been wondering how I could have you alone for a few minutes, and tell you +what is on my mind before I see MacDonald again to-night. I'm afraid you +will be displeased with me, Joanne. I hardly know how to begin. But--I've +got to." + +A moment's uneasiness came into her eyes as she saw how seriously he was +speaking. + +"You don't mean, John--there's more about Quade--and Culver Rann?" + +"No, no--nothing like that," he laughed, as though amused at the absurdity +of her question. "Old Donald tells me they have skipped the country, +Joanne. It's not that. It's you I'm thinking of, and what you may think of +me a minute from now. Joanne, I've given my word to old Donald. He has +lived in my promise. I've got to keep that promise--I must go into the +North with him." + +She had drawn one of his hands into her lap and was fondling it with her +own soft palm and fingers. + +"Of course, you must, John. I love old Donald." + +"And I must go--soon," he added. + +"It is only fair to him that you should," she agreed. + +"He--he is determined we shall go in the morning," he finished, keeping his +eyes from her. + +For a moment Joanne did not answer. Her fingers interweaved with his, her +warm little palm stroked the rough back of his hand. Then she said, very +softly: + +"And why do you think that will displease me, John, dear? I will be ready!" + +"You!" + +Her eyes were on him, full, and dark, and glowing, and in them were both +love and laughter. + +"You dear silly John!" she laughed. "Why don't you come right out and tell +me to stay at home, instead of--of--'beating 'round the bush'--as Peggy +Blackton says? Only you don't know what a terrible little person you've +got, John. You really don't. So you needn't say any more. We'll start in +the morning--and I am going with you!" + +In a flash John Aldous saw his whole scheme shaking on its foundation. + +"It's impossible--utterly impossible!" he gasped. + +"And why utterly?" she asked, bending her head so that her soft hair +touched his face and lips. "John, have you already forgotten what we said +in that terrible cavern--what we told ourselves we would have done if we +had lived? We were going adventuring, weren't we? And we are not dead--but +alive. And this will be a glorious trip! Why, John, don't you see, don't +you understand? It will be our honeymoon trip!" + +"It will be a long, rough journey," he argued. "It will be hard--hard for a +woman." + +With a little laugh, Joanne sprang up and stood before him in a glow of +light, tall, and slim, and splendid, and there was a sparkle of beautiful +defiance and a little of triumph in her eyes as she looked down on him. + +"And it will be dangerous, too? You are going to tell me that?" + +"Yes, it will be dangerous." + +She came to him and rumpled up his hair, and turned his face up so that she +could look into his eyes. + +"Is it worse than fever, and famine, and deep swamps, and crawling +jungles?" she asked. "Are we going to encounter worse things than beasts, +and poisonous serpents, and murderous savages--even hunger and thirst, +John? For many years we dared those together--my father and I. Are these +great, big, beautiful mountains more treacherous than those Ceylon jungles +from which you ran away--even you, John? Are they more terrible to live in +than the Great African Desert? Are your bears worse than tigers, your +wolves more terrible than lions? And if, through years and years, I faced +those things with my father, do you suppose that I want to be left behind +now, and by my husband?" + +So sweet and wonderful was the sound of that name as it came softly from +her lips, that in his joy he forgot the part he was playing, and drew her +close down in his arms, and in that moment all that remained of the scheme +he had built for keeping her behind crumbled in ruin about him. + +Yet in a last effort he persisted. + +"Old Donald wants to travel fast--very fast, Joanne. I owe a great deal to +him. Even you I owe to him--for he saved us from the 'coyote.'" + +"I am going, John." + +"If we went alone we would be able to return very soon." + +"I am going." + +"And some of the mountains--it is impossible for a woman to climb them!" + +"Then I will let you carry me up them, John. You are so strong----" + +He groaned hopelessly. + +"Joanne, won't you stay with the Blacktons, to please me?" + +"No. I don't care to please you." + +Her fingers were stroking his cheek. + +"John?" + +"Yes." + +"Father taught me to shoot, and as we get better acquainted on our +honeymoon trip I'll tell you about some of my hunting adventures. I don't +like to shoot wild things, because I love them too well. But I can shoot. +And I want a gun!" + +"Great Scott!" + +"Not a toy--but a real gun," she continued. "A gun like yours. And then, if +by any chance we should have trouble--with Culver Rann----" + +She felt him start, and her hands pressed harder against his face. + +"Now I know," she whispered. "I guessed it all along. You told me that +Culver Rann and the others were after the gold. They've gone--and their +going isn't quite 'skipping the country' as you meant me to understand it, +John Aldous! So please let's not argue any more. If we do we may quarrel, +and that would be terrible. I'm going. And I will be ready in the morning. +And I want a gun. And I want you to be nice to me, and I want it to be our +honeymoon--even if it is going to be exciting!" + +And with that she put her lips to his, and his last argument was gone. + +Two hours later, when he went to the coulee, he was like one who had come +out of a strange and disturbing and altogether glorious dream. He had told +Joanne and the Blacktons that it was necessary for him to be with MacDonald +that night. Joanne's good-night kiss was still warm on his lips, the loving +touch of her hands still trembled on his face, and the sweet perfume of her +hair was in his nostrils. He was drunk with the immeasurable happiness that +had come to him, every fibre in him was aquiver with it--and yet, possessed +of his great joy, he was conscious of a fear; a fear that was new and +growing, and which made him glad when he came at last to the little fire in +the coulee. + +He did not tell MacDonald the cause of this fear at first. He told the +story of Mortimer FitzHugh and Joanne, leaving no part of it unbared, until +he could see Donald MacDonald's great gaunt hands clenching in the +firelight, and his cavernous eyes flaming darkly through the gloom. Then he +told what had happened when the Blacktons went to town, and when he had +finished, and rose despairingly beside the fire, Donald rose, too, and his +voice boomed in a sort of ecstasy. + +"My Jane would ha' done likewise," he cried in triumph. "She would that, +Johnny--she would!" + +"But this is different!" groaned Aldous. "What am I going to do, Mac? What +can I do? Don't you see how impossible it is! Mac, Mac--she isn't my +wife--not entirely, not absolutely, not in the last and vital sense of +being a wife by law! If she knew the truth, she wouldn't consider herself +my wife; she would leave me. For that reason I can't take her. I can't. +Think what it would mean!" + +Old Donald had come close to his side, and at the look in the gray old +mountaineer's face John Aldous paused. Slowly Donald laid his hands on his +shoulders. + +"Johnny," he said gently, "Johnny, be you sure of yourself? Be you a man, +Johnny?" + +"Good heaven, Donald. You mean----" + +Their eyes met steadily. + +"If you are, Johnny," went on MacDonald in a low voice, "I'd take her with +me. An' if you ain't, I'd leave these mount'ins to-night an' never look in +her sweet face again as long as I lived." + +"You'd take her along?" demanded Aldous eagerly. + +"I would. I've been thinkin' it over to-night. An' something seemed to tell +me we mustn't dare leave her here alone. There's just two things to do, +Johnny. You've got to stay with her an' let me go on alone or--you've got +to take her." + +Slowly Aldous shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was a little after +ten. + +"If I could make myself believe that she would not be safe here--I would +take her," he said. "But I can't quite make up my mind to that, Mac. She +will be in good hands with the Blacktons. I will warn Paul. Joanne is +determined to go, and I know she will think it pretty indecent to be told +emphatically that she can't go. But I've got to do it. I can't see----" + +A break in the stillness of the night stopped him with the suddenness of a +bullet in his brain. It was a scream--a woman's scream, and there followed +it shriek after shriek, until the black forest trembled with the fear and +agony of the cries, and John Aldous stood as if suddenly stripped of the +power to move or act. Donald MacDonald roused him to life. With a roar in +his beard, he sprang forth into the darkness. And Aldous followed, a hot +sweat of fear in his blood where a moment before had been only a chill of +wonder and horror. For in Donald's savage beastlike cry he had caught +Joanne's name, and an answering cry broke from his own lips as he followed +the great gaunt form that was tearing with the madness of a wounded bear +ahead of him through the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Not until they had rushed up out of the coulee and had reached the pathlike +trail did the screaming cease. For barely an instant MacDonald paused, and +then ran on with a speed that taxed Aldous to keep up. When they came to +the little open amphitheatre in the forest MacDonald halted again. Their +hearts were thumping like hammers, and the old mountaineer's voice came +husky and choking when he spoke. + +"It wasn't far--from here!" he panted. + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when he sped on again. Three minutes +later they came to where the trail crossed the edge of a small +rock-cluttered meadow, and with a sudden spurt Aldous darted ahead of +MacDonald into this opening, where he saw two figures in the moonlight. +Half a dozen feet from them he stopped with a cry of horror. They were Paul +and Peggy Blackton! Peggy was dishevelled and sobbing, and was frantically +clutching at her husband. It was Paul Blackton who dragged the cry from his +lips. The contractor was swaying. He was hatless; his face was covered with +blood, and his eyes were only half open, as if he were fighting to pull +himself back into consciousness after a terrible blow. Peggy's hair was +down, her dress was torn at the throat, and she was panting so that for a +moment she could not speak. + +"They've got--Joanne!" she cried then. "They went--there!" + +She pointed, and Aldous ran where she pointed--into the timber on the far +side of the little meadow. MacDonald caught his arm as they ran. + +"You go straight in," he commanded. "I'll swing--to right--toward +river----" + +For two minutes after that Aldous tore straight ahead. Then for barely a +moment he stopped. He had not paused to question Peggy Blackton. His own +fears told him who Joanne's abductors were. They were men working under +instructions from Quade. And they could not be far away, for scarcely ten +minutes had passed since the first scream. He listened, and held his breath +so that the terrific beating of his heart would not drown the sound of +crackling brush. All at once the blood in him was frozen by a fierce yell. +It was MacDonald, a couple of hundred yards to his right, and after that +yell came the bellowing shout of his name. + +"Johnny! Johnny! Oh, Johnny!" + +He dashed in MacDonald's direction, and a few moments later heard the +crashing of bodies in the undergrowth. Fifty seconds more and he was in the +arena. MacDonald was fighting three men in a space over which the +spruce-tops grew thinly. The moon shone upon them as they swayed in a +struggling mass, and as Aldous sprang to the combat one of the three reeled +backward and fell as if struck by a battering-ram. In that same moment +MacDonald went down, and Aldous struck a terrific blow with the butt of his +heavy Savage. He missed, and the momentum of his blow carried him over +MacDonald. He tripped and fell. By the time he had regained his, feet the +two men had disappeared into the thick shadows of the spruce forest. Aldous +whirled toward the third man, whom he had seen fall. He, too, had +disappeared. A little lamely old Donald brought himself to his feet. He was +smiling. + +"Now, what do 'ee think, Johnny?" + +"Where is she? Where is Joanne?" demanded Aldous. + +"Twenty feet behind you, Johnny, gagged an' trussed up nice as a whistle! +If they hadn't stopped to do that work you wouldn't ha' seen her ag'in, +Johnny--s'elp me, God, you wouldn't! They was hikin' for the river. Once +they had reached the Frazer, and a boat----" + +He broke off to lead Aldous to a clump of dwarf spruce. Behind this, white +and still in the moonlight, but with eyes wide open and filled with horror, +lay Joanne. Hands and feet were bound, and a big handkerchief was tied over +her mouth. Twenty seconds later Aldous held her shivering and sobbing and +laughing hysterically by turns in his arms, while MacDonald's voice brought +Paul and Peggy Blackton to them. Blackton had recovered from the blow that +had dazed him. Over Joanne's head he stared at Aldous. And MacDonald was +staring at Blackton. His eyes were burning a little darkly. + +"It's all come out right," he said, "but it ain't a special nice time o' +night to be taking a' evening walk in this locality with a couple o' +ladies!" + +Blackton was still staring at Aldous, with Peggy clutching his arm as if +afraid of losing him. + +It was Peggy who answered MacDonald. + +"And it was a nice time of night for you to send a message asking us to +bring Joanne down the trail!" she cried, her voice trembling. + +"We----" began Aldous, when he saw a sudden warning movement on MacDonald's +part, and stopped. "Let us take the ladies home," he said. + +With Joanne clinging to him, he led the way. Behind them all MacDonald +growled loudly: + +"There's got t' be something done with these damned beasts of furriners. +It's gettin' so no woman ain't safe at night!" + +Twenty minutes later they reached the bungalow. Leaving Joanne and Peggy +inside, now as busily excited as two phoebe birds, and after Joanne had +insisted upon Aldous sleeping at the Blacktons' that night, the two men +accompanied MacDonald a few steps on his way back to camp. + +As soon as they were out of earshot Blackton began cursing softly under his +breath. + +"So you didn't send that damned note?" he asked. "You haven't said so, but +I've guessed you didn't send it!" + +"No, we didn't send a note." + +"And you had a reason--you and MacDonald--for not wanting the girls to know +the truth?" + +"A mighty good reason," said Aldous. "I've got to thank MacDonald for +closing my mouth at the right moment. I was about to give it away. And now, +Blackton, I've got to confide in you. But before I do that I want your word +that you will repeat nothing of what I say to another person--even your +wife." + +Blackton nodded. + +"Go on," he said. "I've suspected a thing or two, Aldous. I'll give you my +word. Go on." + +As briefly as possible, and without going deeply into detail, Aldous told +of Quade and his plot to secure possession of Joanne. + +"And this is his work," he finished. "I've told you this, Paul, so that you +won't worry about Peggy. You can see from to-night's events that they were +not after her, but wanted Joanne. Joanne must not learn the truth. And your +wife must not know. I am going to settle with Quade. Just how and where and +when I'm going to settle with him I don't care to say now. But he's going +to answer to me. And he's going to answer soon." + +Blackton whistled softly. + +"A boy brought the note," he said. "He stood in the dark when he handed it +to me. And I didn't recognize any one of the three men who jumped out on +us. I didn't have much of a chance to fight, but if there's any one on the +face of the earth who has got it over Peggy when it comes to screaming, I'd +like to know her name! Joanne didn't have time to make a sound. But they +didn't touch Peggy until she began screaming, and then one of the men began +choking her. They had about laid me out with a club, so I was helpless. +Good God----" + +He shuddered. + +"They were river men," said MacDonald. "Probably some of Tomman's scow-men. +They were making for the river." + +A few minutes later, when Aldous was saying good-night to MacDonald, the +old hunter said again, in a whisper: + +"Now what do 'ee think, Johnny?" + +"That you're right, Mac," replied Aldous in a low voice. "There is no +longer a choice. Joanne must go with us. You will come early?" + +"At dawn, Johnny." + +He returned to the bungalow with Blackton, and until midnight the lights +there burned brightly while the two men answered a thousand questions about +the night's adventure, and Aldous told of his and Joanne's plans for the +honeymoon trip into the North that was to begin the next day. + +It was half-past twelve when be locked the door of his and sat down to +think. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There was no doubt in the mind of John Aldous now. The attempt upon Joanne +left him but one course to pursue: he must take her with him, in spite of +the monumental objections which he had seen a few hours before. He realized +what a fight this would mean for him, and with what cleverness and resource +he must play his part. Joanne had not given herself to him as she had once +given herself to Mortimer FitzHugh. In the "coyote," when they had faced +death, she had told him that were there to be a to-morrow in life for them +she would have given herself to him utterly and without reservation. And +that to-morrow had dawned. It was present. She was his wife. And she had +come to him as she had promised. In her eyes he had seen love and trust and +faith--and a glorious happiness. She had made no effort to hide that +happiness from him. Consciousness of it filled him with his own great +happiness, and yet it made him realize even more deeply how hard his fight +was to be. She was his wife. In a hundred little ways she had shown him +that she was proud of her wifehood. And again he told himself that she had +come to him as she had promised, that she had given into his keeping all +that she had to give. And yet--_she was not his wife!_ + +He groaned aloud, and his fingers dug into the flesh of his knees as he +thought of that. Could he keep that terrible truth from her? If she went +with him into the North, would she not guess? And, even though he kept the +truth from her until Mortimer FitzHugh was dead, would he be playing fair +with her? Again he went over all that he had gone over before. He knew that +Joanne would leave him to-morrow, and probably forever, if he told her that +FitzHugh was alive. The law could not help him, for only death--and never +divorce--would free her. Within himself he decided for the last time. He +was about to do the one thing left for him to do. And it was the honourable +thing, for it meant freedom for her and happiness for them both. To him, +Donald MacDonald had become a man who lived very close to the heart and the +right of things, and Donald had said that he should take her. This was the +greatest proof that he was right. + +But could he keep Joanne from guessing? Could he keep her from discovering +the truth until it was time for her to know that truth? In this necessity +of keeping her from suspecting that something was wrong he saw his greatest +fight. Compared with it, the final settlement with Quade and Mortimer +FitzHugh sank into a second importance. He knew what would happen then. But +Joanne--Joanne on the trail, as his wife---- + +He began pacing back and forth in his room, clouding himself in the smoke +of his pipe. Frequently Joanne's mind had filled him with an exquisite +delight by its quickness and at times almost magic perceptiveness, and he +realized that in these things, and the fineness of her woman's intuition, +now lay his greatest menace. He was sure that she understood the meaning of +the assault upon her that night, though she had apparently believed what +he and Blackton had told them--that it had been the attack of +irresponsible and drunken hoodlums. Yet he was certain that she had already +guessed that Quade had been responsible. + +He went to bed, dreading what questions and new developments the morning +might bring forth. And when the morning came, he was both amazed and +delighted. The near tragedy of the previous night might never have happened +in so far as he could judge from Joanne's appearance. When she came out of +her room to meet him, in the glow of a hall lamp, her eyes were like stars, +and the colour in her cheeks was like that of a rose fresh from its slumber +in dew. + +"I'm so happy, and what happened last night seems so like a bad dream," she +whispered, as he held her close to him for a few moments before descending +the stairs. "I shall worry about Peggy, John. I shall. I don't understand +how her husband dares to bring her among savages like these. You wouldn't +leave me among them, would you?" And as she asked the question, and his +lips pressed hers, John Aldous still believed that in her heart she knew +the truth of that night attack. + +If she did know, she kept her secret from him all that day. They left Tete +Jaune before sunrise with an outfit which MacDonald had cut down to six +horses. Its smallness roused Joanne's first question, for Aldous had +described to her an outfit of twenty horses. He explained that a large +outfit made travel much more difficult and slow, but he did not tell her +that with six horses instead of twenty they could travel less +conspicuously, more easily conceal themselves from enemies, and, if +necessary, make quick flight or swift pursuit. + +They stopped to camp for the night in a little basin that drew from Joanne +an exclamation of joy and wonder. They had reached the upper timber-line, +and on three sides the basin was shut in by treeless and brush-naked walls +of the mountains. In the centre of the dip was a lake fed by a tiny stream +that fell in a series of ribbonlike cataracts a sheer thousand feet from +the snow-peaks that towered above them. Small, parklike clumps of spruce +dotted the miniature valley; over it hung a sky as blue as sapphire and +under their feet was a carpet of soft grass sprayed with little blue +forget-me-nots and wild asters. + +"I have never seen anything a half so beautiful as this!" cried Joanne, as +Aldous helped her from her horse. + +As her feet touched the ground she gave a little cry and hung limply in his +arms. + +"I'm lame--lame for life!" she laughed in mock humour. "John, I can't +stand. I really can't!" + +Old Donald was chuckling in his beard as he came up. + +"You ain't nearly so lame as you'll be to-morrow," he comforted her. "An' +you won't be nearly so lame to-morrow as you'll be next day. Then you'll +begin to get used to it, Mis' Joanne." + +"_Mrs. Aldous_, Donald," she corrected sweetly. "Or--just Joanne." + +At that Aldous found himself holding her so closely that she gave a little +gasp. + +"Please don't," she expostulated. "Your arms are terribly strong, John!" + +MacDonald had turned away, still chuckling, and began to unpack. Joanne +looked behind her, then quickly held up her softly pouted lips. Aldous +kissed her, and would have kissed her again but she slipped suddenly from +his arms and going to Pinto began to untie a dishpan that was fastened to +the top of his pack. + +"Get to work, John Aldous!" she commanded. + +MacDonald had camped before in the basin, and there were tepee poles ready +cut, as light and dry as matchwood. Joanne watched them as they put up the +tent, and when it was done, and she looked inside, she cried delightedly: + +"It's the snuggest little home I ever had, John!" + +After that she busied herself in a way that was a constantly growing +pleasure to him. She took possession at once of pots and pans and kettles. +She lost no time in impressing upon both Aldous and MacDonald the fact that +while she was their docile follower on the trail she was to be at the head +of affairs in camp. While they were straightening out the outfit, hobbling +the horses, and building a fire, she rummaged through the panniers and took +stock of their provisions. She bossed old Donald in a manner that made him +fairly glow with pleasure. She bared her white arms to the elbows and made +biscuits for the "reflector" instead of bannock, while Aldous brought water +from the lake, and MacDonald cut wood. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes +were laughing, joyous, happy. MacDonald seemed years younger. He obeyed her +like a boy, and once Aldous caught him looking at her in a way that set him +thinking again of those days of years and years ago, and of other camps, +and of another woman--like Joanne. + +MacDonald had thought of this first camp--and there were porterhouse steaks +for supper, which he had brought packed in a kettle of ice. When they sat +down to the meal, Joanne was facing a distant snow-capped ridge that cut +the skyline, and the last of the sun, reflected from the face of the +mountain on the east, had set brown-and-gold fires aglow in her hair. They +were partly through when her eyes rested on the distant snow-ridge. Aldous +saw her looking steadily. Suddenly she pointed beyond him. + +"I see something moving over the snow on that mountain!" she cried a little +excitedly. "It is hurrying toward the summit--just under the skyline! What +is it?" + +Aldous and MacDonald looked toward the ridge. Fully a mile away, almost +even with the skyline now, a small dark object was moving over the white +surface of the snow. + +"It ain't a goat," said MacDonald, "because a goat is white, and we +couldn't see it on the snow. It ain't a sheep, 'cause it's too dark, an' +movin' too slow. It must be a bear, but why in the name o' sin a bear would +be that high, I don't know!" + +He jumped up and ran for his telescope. + +"A grizzly," whispered Joanne tensely. "Would it be a grizzly, John?" + +"Possibly," he answered. "Indeed, it's very likely. This is a grizzly +country. If we hurry you can get a look at him through the telescope." + +MacDonald was already studying the object through his long glass when they +joined him. + +"It's a bear," he said. + +"Please--please let me look at him," begged Joanne. + +The dark object was now almost on the skyline. Half A minute more and it +would pass over and out of sight. MacDonald still held his eye to the +telescope, as though he had not heard Joanne. Not until the moving object +had crossed the skyline, and had disappeared, did he reply to her. + +"The light's bad, an' you couldn't have made him out very well," he said. +"We'll show you plenty o' grizzlies, an' so near you won't want a +telescope. Eh, Johnny?" + +As he looked at Aldous there was a strange look in his eyes, and during the +remainder of the supper he was restless, and ate hurriedly. When he had +finished he rose and picked up his long rifle. + +"There's sheep somewhere near this basin, Johnny," he explained. "An' I +reckon Joanne'll scold us if we don't keep her in fresh meat. I'm goin' to +bring in some mutton if there's any to be got, an' I probably won't be back +until after dark." + +Aldous knew that he had more to say, and he went with him a few steps +beyond the camp. + +And MacDonald continued in a low, troubled voice: + +"Be careful, Johnny. Watch yo'rself. I'm going to take a look over into the +next valley, an' I won't be back until late. It wasn't a goat, an' it +wasn't a sheep, an' it wasn't a bear. It was two-legged! It was a man, +Johnny, an' he was there to watch this trail, or my name ain't Donald +MacDonald. Mebby he came ahead of us last night, an' mebby he was here +before that happened. Anyway, be on your guard while I look over into the +next range." + +With that he struck off in the direction of the snow-ridge, and for a few +moments Aldous stood looking after the tall, picturesque figure until it +disappeared behind a clump of spruce. Swiftly he was telling himself that +it was not the hunting season, and that it was not a prospector whom they +had seen on the snow-ridge. As a matter of caution, there could be but one +conclusion to draw. The man had been stationed there either by Quade or +FitzHugh, or both, and had unwittingly revealed himself. + +He turned toward Joanne, who had already begun to gather up the supper +things. He could hear her singing happily, and as he looked she pressed a +finger to her lips and threw a kiss to him. His heart smote him even as he +smiled and waved a hand in response. Then he went to her. How slim and +wonderful she looked in that glow of the setting sun, he thought. How white +and soft were her hands, how tender and fragile her lovely neck! And how +helpless--how utterly helpless she would be if anything happened to him and +MacDonald! With an effort he flung the thought from him. On his knees he +wiped the dishes and pots and pans for Joanne. When this was done, he +seized an axe and showed her how to gather a bed. This was a new and +delightful experience for Joanne. + +"You always want to cut balsam boughs when you can get them," he explained, +pausing before two small trees. "Now, this is a cedar, and this is a +balsam. Notice how prickly and needlelike on all sides these cedar branches +are. And now look at the balsam. The needles lay flat and soft. Balsam +makes the best bed you can get in the North, except moss, and you've got to +dry the moss." + +For fifteen minutes he clipped off the soft ends of the balsam limbs and +Joanne gathered them in her arms and carried them into the tepee. Then he +went in with her, and showed her how to make the bed. He made it a narrow +bed, and a deep bed, and he knew that Joanne was watching him, and he was +glad the tan hid the uncomfortable glow in his face when he had finished +tucking in the end of the last blanket. + +"You will be as cozy as can be in that," he said. + +"And you, John?" she asked, her face flushing rosily. "I haven't seen +another tent for you and Donald." + +"We don't sleep in a tent during the summer," he said. "Just our +blankets--out in the open." + +"But--if it should rain?" + +"We get under a balsam or a spruce or a thick cedar." + +A little later they stood beside the fire. It was growing dusk. The distant +snow-ridge was swiftly fading into a pale and ghostly sheet in the gray +gloom of the night. Up that ridge Aldous knew that MacDonald was toiling. + +Joanne put her hands to his shoulders. + +"Are you sorry--so very, very sorry that you let me come, John?" + +"I didn't let you come," he laughed softly, drawing her to him. "You came!" + +"And are you sorry?" + +"No." + +It was deliciously sweet to have her tilt up her head and put her soft lips +to his, and it was still sweeter when her tender hands stroked his cheeks, +and eyes and lips smiled their love and gladness. He stood stroking her +hair, with her face laying warm and close against him, and over her head he +stared into the thickening darkness of the spruce and cedar copses. Joanne +herself had piled wood on the fire, and in its glow they were dangerously +illuminated. With one of her hands she was still caressing his cheek. + +"When will Donald return?" she asked. + +"Probably not until late," he replied, wondering what it was that had set a +stone rolling down the side of the mountain nearest to them. "He hunted +until dark, and may wait for the moon to come up before he returns." + +"John----" + +"Yes, dear?----" And mentally he measured the distance to the nearest clump +of timber between them and the mountain. + +"Let's build a big fire, and sit down on the pannier canvases." + +His eyes were still on the timber, and he was wondering what a man with a +rifle, or even a pistol, might do at that space. He made a good target, and +MacDonald was probably several miles away. + +"I've been thinking about the fire," he said. "We must put it out, Joanne. +There are reasons why we should not let it burn. For one thing, the smoke +will drive any game away that we may hope to see in the morning." + +Her hands lay still against his cheek. + +"I--understand, John," she replied quickly, and there was the smallest bit +of a shudder in her voice. "I had forgotten. We must put it out!" + +Five minutes later only a few glowing embers remained where the fire had +been. He had spread out the pannier canvases, and now he seated himself +with his back to a tree. Joanne snuggled close to him. + +"It is much nicer in the dark," she whispered, and her arms reached up +about him, and her lips pressed warm and soft against his hand. "Are you +just a little ashamed of me, John?" + +"Ashamed? Good heaven----" + +"Because," she interrupted him, "we have known each other such a very short +time, and I have allowed myself to become so very, very well acquainted +with you. It has all been so delightfully sudden, and strange, and I +am--just as happy as I can be. You don't think it is immodest for me to say +these things to my husband, John--even if I have only known him three +days?" + +He answered by crushing her so closely in his arms that for a few moments +afterward she lay helplessly on his breast, gasping for breath. His brain +was afire with the joyous madness of possession. Never had woman come to +man more sweetly than Joanne had come to him, and as he felt her throbbing +and trembling against him he was ready to rise up and shout forth a +challenge to a hundred Quades and Culver Ranns hiding in the darkness of +the mountains. For a long time he held her nestled close in his arms, and +at intervals there were silences between them, in which they listened to +the glad tumult of their own hearts, and the strange silence that came to +them from out of the still night. + +It was their first hour alone--of utter oblivion to all else but +themselves; to Joanne the first sacrament hour of her wifehood, to him the +first hour of perfect possession and understanding. In that hour their +souls became one, and when at last they rose to their feet, and the moon +came up over a crag of the mountain and flooded them in its golden light, +there was in Joanne's face a tenderness and a gentle glory that made John +Aldous think of an angel. He led her to the tepee, and lighted a candle +for her, and at the last, with the sweet demand of a child in the manner of +her doing it, she pursed up her lips to be kissed good-night. + +And when he had tied the tent-flap behind her, he took his rifle and sat +down with it across his knees in the deep black shadow of a spruce, and +waited and listened for the coming of Donald MacDonald. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +For an hour after Joanne had gone into her tent Aldous sat silent and +watchful. From where he had concealed himself he could see over a part of +the moonlit basin, and guard the open space between the camp and the clump +of timber that lay in the direction of the nearest mountain. After Joanne +had blown out her candle the silence of the night seemed to grow deeper +about him. The hobbled horses had wandered several hundred yards away, and +only now and then could he hear the thud of a hoof, or the clank of a steel +shoe on rock. He believed that it was impossible for any one to approach +without ears and eyes giving him warning, and he felt a distinct shock when +Donald MacDonald suddenly appeared in the moonlight not twenty paces from +him. With an ejaculation of amazement he jumped to his feet and went to +him. + +"How the deuce did you get here?" he demanded. + +"Were you asleep, Johnny?" + +"I was awake--and watching!" + +The old hunter chuckled. + +"It was so still when I come to those trees back there that I thought mebby +something had 'appened," he said. + +"So, I sneaked up, Johnny." + +"Did you see anything over the range?" asked Aldous anxiously. + +"I found footprints in the snow, an' when I got to the top I smelled smoke, +but couldn't see a fire. It was dark then." MacDonald nodded toward the +tepee. "Is she asleep, Johnny?" + +"I think so. She must be very tired." + +They drew back into the shadow of the spruce. It was a simultaneous +movement of caution, and both, without speaking their thoughts, realized +the significance of it. Until now they had had no opportunity of being +alone since last night. + +MacDonald spoke in a low, muffled voice: + +"Quade an' Culver Rann are goin' the limit, Johnny," he said. "They left +men on the job at Tete Jaune, and they've got others watching us. +Consequently, I've hit on a scheme--a sort of simple and unreasonable +scheme, mebby, but an awful good scheme at times." + +"What is it?" + +"Whenever you see anything that ain't a bear, or a goat, or a sheep, don't +wait to change the time o' day--but shoot!" said MacDonald. + +Aldous smiled grimly. + +"If I had any ideas of chivalry, or what I call fair play, they were taken +out of me last night, Mac," he said. "I'm ready to shoot on sight!" + +MacDonald grunted his satisfaction. + +"They can't beat us if we do that, Johnny. They ain't even ordinary +cut-throats--they're sneaks in the bargain; an' if they could walk in our +camp, smilin' an' friendly, and brain us when our backs was turned, they'd +do it. We don't know who's with them, and if a stranger heaves in sight +meet him with a chunk o' lead. They're the only ones in these mountains, +an' we won't make any mistake. See that bunch of spruce over there?" + +The old hunter pointed to a clump fifty yards beyond the tepee toward the +little lake. Aldous nodded. + +"I'll take my blankets over there," continued MacDonald. "You roll yourself +up here, and the tepee'll be between us. You see the system, Johnny? If +they make us a visit during the night we've got 'em between us, and +there'll be some real burying to do in the morning!" + +Back under the low-hanging boughs of the dwarf spruce Aldous spread out his +blanket a few minutes later. He had made up his mind not to sleep, and for +hours he lay watchful and waiting, smoking occasionally, with his face +close to the ground so that the odour of tobacco would cling to the earth. +The moon rose until it was straight overhead, flooding the valley in a +golden splendour that he wished Joanne might have seen. Then it began +sinking into the west; slowly at first, and then more swiftly, its radiance +diminished. He looked at his watch before the yellow orb effaced itself +behind the towering peak of a distant mountain. It was a quarter of two. + +With deepening darkness, his eyes grew heavier. He closed them for a few +moments at a time; and each time the interval was longer, and it took +greater effort to force himself into wakefulness. Finally he slept. But he +was still subconsciously on guard, and an hour later that consciousness was +beating and pounding within him, urging him to awake. He sat up with a +start and gripped his rifle. An owl was hooting--softly, very softly. There +were four notes. He answered, and a little later MacDonald came like a +shadow out of the gloom. Aldous advanced to meet him, and he noticed that +over the eastern mountains there was a break of gray. + +"It's after three, Johnny," MacDonald greeted him. "Build a fire and get +breakfast. Tell Joanne I'm out after another sheep. Until it's good an' +light I'm going to watch from that clump of timber up there. In half an +hour it'll be dawn." + +He moved toward the timber, and Aldous set about building a fire. He was +careful not to awaken Joanne. The fire was crackling cheerily when he went +to the lake for water. Returning he saw the faint glow of candlelight in +Joanne's tepee. Five minutes later she appeared, and all thought of danger, +and the discomfort of his sleepless night, passed from him at sight of her. +Her eyes were still a little misty with sleep when he took her in his arms +and kissed her, but she was deliciously alive, and glad, and happy. In one +hand she had brought a brush and in the other a comb. + +"You slept like a log," he cried happily. "It can't be that you had very +bad dreams, little wife?" + +"I had a beautiful dream, John," she laughed softly, and the colour flooded +up into her face. + +She unplaited the thick silken strands of her braid and began brushing her +hair in the firelight, while Aldous sliced the bacon. Some of the slices +were thick, and some were thin, for he could not keep his eyes from her as +she stood there like a goddess, buried almost to her knees in that wondrous +mantle. He found himself whistling with a very light heart as she braided +her hair, and afterward plunged her face in a bath of cold water he had +brought from the lake. From that bath she emerged like a glowing Naiad. +Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were pink and her lips full and red. Damp +little tendrils of hair clung adorably about her face and neck. For another +full minute Aldous paused in his labours, and he wondered if MacDonald was +watching them from the clump of timber. The bacon was sputtering when +Joanne ran to it and rescued it from burning. + +Dawn followed quickly after that first break of day in the east, but not +until one could see a full rifle-shot away did MacDonald return to the +camp. Breakfast was waiting, and as soon as he had finished the old hunter +went after the horses. It was five o'clock, and bars of the sun were +shooting over the tops of the mountains when once more they were in the +saddle and on their way. + +Most of this day Aldous headed the outfit up the valley. On the pretext of +searching for game MacDonald rode so far in advance that only twice during +the forenoon was he in sight. When they stopped to camp for the night his +horse was almost exhausted, and MacDonald himself showed signs of +tremendous physical effort. Aldous could not question him before Joanne. He +waited. And MacDonald was strangely silent. + +The proof of MacDonald's prediction concerning Joanne was in evidence this +second night. Every bone in her body ached, and she was so tired that she +made no objection to going to her bed as soon as it was dark. + +"It always happens like this," consoled old Donald, as she bade him +good-night. "To-morrow you'll begin gettin' broke in, an' the next day you +won't have any lameness at all." + +She limped to the tepee with John's arm snugly about her slim waist. +MacDonald waited patiently until he returned. He motioned Aldous to seat +himself close at his side. Both men lighted their pipes before the +mountaineer spoke. + +"We can't both sleep at once to-night, Johnny," he said. "We've got to take +turns keeping watch." + +"You've discovered something to-day?" + +"No. It's what I haven't discovered that counts. There weren't no tracks in +this valley, Johnny, from mount'in to mount'in. They haven't travelled +through this range, an' that leaves just two things for us to figger on. +They're behind us--or DeBar is hitting another trail into the north. There +isn't no danger ahead right now, because we're gettin' into the biggest +ranges between here an' the Yukon. If Quade and Rann are in the next valley +they can't get over the mount'ins to get at us. Quade, with all his flesh, +couldn't climb over that range to the west of us inside o' three days, if +he could get over it at all. They're hikin' straight for the gold over +another trail, or they're behind us, an' mebby both." + +"How--both?" asked Aldous. + +"Two parties," explained MacDonald, puffing hard at his pipe. "If there's +an outfit behind us they were hid in the timber on the other side of the +snow-ridge, and they're pretty close this minute. Culver Rann--or FitzHugh, +as you call him--is hustling straight on with DeBar. Mebby Quade is with +him, an' mebby he ain't. Anyway, there's a big chance of a bunch behind us +with special instructions from Quade to cut our throats and keep Joanne." + +That day Aldous had been turning a question over in his own mind. He asked +it now. + +"Mac, are you sure you can go to the valley of gold without DeBar?" + +For a long half minute MacDonald looked at him, and then his voice rumbled +in a low, exultant laugh in his beard. + +"Johnny," he said, with a strange quiver in his voice, "I can go to it now +straighter an' quicker than DeBar! I know why I never found it. DeBar +helped me that much. The trail is mapped right out in my brain now, Johnny. +Five years ago I was within ten miles of the cavern--an' didn't know it!" + +"And we can get there ahead of them?" + +"We could--if it wasn't for Joanne. We're makin' twenty miles a day. We +could make thirty." + +"If we could beat them to it!" exclaimed Aldous, clenching his hands. "If +we only could, Donald--the rest would be easy!" + +MacDonald laid a heavy hand on his knee. + +"You remember what you told me, Johnny, that you'd play the game fair, and +give 'em a first chance? You ain't figgerin' on that now, be you?" + +"No, I'm with you now, Donald. It's----" + +"Shoot on sight!" + +"Yes." + +Aldous rose from his seat as he spoke. + +"You turn in, Mac," he said. "You're about bushed after the work you've +done to-day. I'll keep first watch. I'll conceal myself fifty or sixty +yards from camp, and if we have visitors before midnight the fun will all +be mine." + +He knew that MacDonald was asleep within fifteen minutes after he had +stationed himself at his post. In spite of the fact that he had had almost +no sleep the preceding night, he was more than usually wakeful. He was +filled with a curious feeling that events were impending. Yet the hours +passed, the moon flooded the valley again, the horses grazed without alarm, +and nothing happened. He had planned not to awaken old Donald at midnight, +but MacDonald roused himself, and came to take his place a little before +twelve. From that hour until four Aldous slept like the dead. He was +tremendously refreshed when he arose, to find that the candle was alight in +Joanne's tepee, and that MacDonald had built a fire. He waited for Joanne, +and went with her to the tiny creek near the camp, where both bathed their +faces in the snow-cold water from the mountain tops. Joanne had slept +soundly for eight hours, and she was as fresh and as happy as a bird. Her +lameness was almost gone, and she was eager for the day's journey. + +As they filed again up the valley that morning, with the early sun +transfiguring the great snow-topped ranges about them into a paradise of +colour and warmth, Aldous found himself mentally wondering if it were +really possible that a serious danger menaced them. He did not tell +MacDonald what was in his mind. He did not confess that he was about ready +to believe that the man on the snow-ridge had been a hunter or a prospector +returning to his camp in the other valley, and that the attack in Tete +Jaune was the one and only effort Quade would make to secure possession of +Joanne. While a few hours before he had almost expected an immediate +attack, he was now becoming more and more convinced that Quade, to a large +extent, had dropped out of the situation. He might be with Mortimer +FitzHugh, and probably was--a dangerous and formidable enemy to be +accounted for when the final settlement came. + +But as an immediate menace to Joanne, Aldous was beginning to fear him less +as the hours passed. Joanne, and the day itself, were sufficient to disarm +him of his former apprehension. In places they could see for miles ahead +and behind them. And Joanne, each time that he looked at her, was a greater +joy to him. Constantly she was pointing out the wonders of the mountains to +him and MacDonald. Each new rise or fall in the valley held fresh and +delightful surprises for her; in the craggy peaks she pointed out +castlements, and towers, and battlemented strongholds of ancient princes +and kings. Her mind was a wild and beautiful riot of imagination, of +wonder, and of happiness, and in spite of the grimness of the mission they +were on even MacDonald found himself rejoicing in her spirit, and he +laughed and talked with them as they rode into the North. + +They were entering now into a hunter's paradise. For the first time Joanne +saw white, moving dots far up on a mountain-side, which MacDonald told her +were goats. In the afternoon they saw mountain sheep feeding on a slide +half a mile away, and for ten breathless minutes Joanne watched them +through the telescope. Twice caribou sped over the opens ahead of them. But +it was not until the sun was settling toward the west again that Joanne saw +what she had been vainly searching the sides of the mountains to find. +MacDonald had stopped suddenly in the trail, motioning them to advance. +When they rode up to him he pointed to a green slope two hundred yards +ahead. + +"There's yo'r grizzly, Joanne," he said. + +A huge, tawny beast was ambling slowly along the crest of the slope, and at +sight of him Joanne gave a little cry of excitement. + +"He's hunting for gophers," explained MacDonald. + +"That's why he don't seem in a hurry. He don't see us because a b'ar's eyes +are near-sighted, but he could smell us half a mile away if the wind was +right." + +He was unslinging his long rifle as he spoke. Joanne was near enough to +catch his arm. + +"Don't shoot--please don't shoot!" she begged. "I've seen lions, and I've +seen tigers--and they're treacherous and I don't like them. But there's +something about bears that I love, like dogs. And the lion isn't a king +among beasts compared with him. Please don't shoot!" + +"I ain't a-goin' to," chuckled old Donald. "I'm just getting ready to give +'im the proper sort of a handshake if he should happen to come this way, +Joanne. You know a grizzly ain't pertic'lar afraid of anything on earth as +I know of, an' they're worse 'n a dynamite explosion when they come +head-on. There--he's goin' over the slope!" + +"Got our wind," said Aldous. + +They went on, a colour in Joanne's face like the vivid sunset. They camped +two hours before dusk, and MacDonald figured they had made better than +twenty miles that day. The same precautions were observed in guarding the +camp as the night before, and the long hours of vigil were equally +uneventful. The next day added still more to Aldous' peace of mind +regarding possible attack from Quade, and on the night of this day, their +fourth in the mountains, he spoke his mind to MacDonald. + +For a few moments afterward the old hunter smoked quietly at his pipe. Then +he said: + +"I don't know but you're right, Johnny. If they were behind us they'd most +likely have tried something before this. But it ain't in the law of the +mount'ins to be careless. We've got to watch." + +"I agree with you there, Mac," replied Aldous. "We cannot afford to lose +our caution for a minute. But I'm feeling a deuced sight better over the +situation just the same. If we can only get there ahead of them!" + +"If Quade is in the bunch we've got a chance of beating them," said +MacDonald thoughtfully. "He's heavy, Johnny--that sort of heaviness that +don't stand up well in the mount'ins; whisky-flesh, I call it. Culver Rann +don't weigh much more'n half as much, but he's like iron. Quade may be a +drag. An' Joanne, Lord bless her!--she's facing the music like an' 'ero, +Johnny!" + +"And the journey is almost half over." + +"This is the fourth day. I figger we can make it in ten at most, mebby +nine," said old Donald. "You see we're in that part of the Rockies where +there's real mount'ins, an' the ranges ain't broke up much. We've got +fairly good travel to the end." + +On this night Aldous slept from eight until twelve. The next, their fifth, +his watch was from midnight until morning. As the sixth and the seventh +days and nights passed uneventfully the belief that there were no enemies +behind them became a certainty. Yet neither Aldous nor MacDonald relaxed +their vigilance. + +The eighth day dawned, and now a new excitement took possession of Donald +MacDonald. Joanne and Aldous saw his efforts to suppress it, but it did not +escape their eyes. They were nearing the tragic scenes of long ago, and old +Donald was about to reap the reward of a search that had gone faithfully +and untiringly through the winters and summers of forty years. He spoke +seldom that day. There were strange lights in his eyes. And once his voice +was husky and strained when he said to Aldous: + +"I guess we'll make it to-morrow, Johnny--jus' about as the sun's going +down." + +They camped early, and Aldous rolled himself in his blanket when Joanne +extinguished the candle in her tent. He found that he could not sleep, and +he relieved MacDonald at eleven o'clock. + +"Get all the rest you can, Mac," he urged. "There may be doings +to-morrow--at about sundown." + +There was but little moonlight now, but the stars were clear. He lighted +his pipe, and with his rifle in the crook of his arm he walked slowly up +and down over a hundred-yard stretch of the narrow plain in which they had +camped. That night they had built their fire beside a fallen log, which was +now a glowing mass without flame. Finally he sat down with his back to a +rock fifty paces from Joanne's tepee. It was a splendid night. The air was +cool and sweet. He leaned back until his head rested against the rock, and +there fell upon him the fatal temptation to close his eyes and snatch a few +minutes of the slumber which had not come to him during the early hours of +the night. He was in a doze, oblivious to movement and the softer sounds of +the night, when a cry pierced the struggling consciousness of his brain +like the sting of a dart. In an instant he was on his feet. + +In the red glow of the log stood Joanne in her long white night robe. She +seemed to be swaying when he first saw her. Her hands were clutched at her +bosom, and she was staring--staring out into the night beyond the burning +log, and in her face was a look of terror. He sprang toward her, and out of +the gloom beyond her rushed Donald MacDonald. With a cry she turned to +Aldous and flung herself shivering and half-sobbing into his arms. +Gray-faced, his eyes burning like the smouldering coals in the fire, Donald +MacDonald stood a step behind them, his long rifle in his hands. + +"What is it?" cried Aldous. "What has frightened you, Joanne?" + +She was shuddering against his breast. + +"It--it must have been a dream," she said. "It--it frightened me. But it +was so terrible, and I'm--I'm sorry, John. I didn't know what I was doing." + +"What was it, dear?" insisted Aldous. + +MacDonald had drawn very close. + +Joanne raised her head. + +"Please let me go back to bed, John. It was only a dream, and I'll tell it +to you in the morning, when there's sunshine--and day." + +Something in MacDonald's tense, listening attitude caught Aldous' eyes. + +"What was the dream?" he urged. + +She looked from him to old Donald, and shivered. + +"The flap of my tepee was open," she said slowly. "I thought I was awake. I +thought I could see the glow of the fire. But it was a dream--a _dream_, +only it was horrible! For as I looked I saw a face out there in the light, +a white, searching face--and it was his face!" + +"Whose face?" + +"Mortimer FitzHugh's," she shuddered. + +Tenderly Aldous led her back to the tent. + +"Yes, it was surely an unpleasant dream, dear," he comforted her. "Try and +sleep again. You must get all the rest you can." + +He closed the flap after her, and turned back toward MacDonald. The old +hunter had disappeared. It was ten minutes before he came in from out of +the darkness. He went straight to Aldous. + +"Johnny, you was asleep!" + +"I'm afraid I was, Mac--just for a minute." + +MacDonald's fingers gripped his arm. + +"Jus' for a minute, Johnny--an' in that minute you lost the chance of your +life!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean"--and old Donald's voice was filled with a low, choking tremble +that Aldous had never heard in it before--"I mean that it weren't no dream, +Johnny! Mortimer FitzHugh was in this camp to-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Donald MacDonald's startling assertion that Mortimer FitzHugh had been in +the camp, and that Joanne's dream was not a dream, but reality, brought a +gasp of astonishment and disbelief from Aldous. Before he had recovered +sufficiently from his amazement to speak, MacDonald was answering the +question in his mind. + +"I woke quicker'n you, Johnny," he said. "She was just coming out of the +tepee, an' I heard something running off through the brush. I thought mebby +it was a wolverine, or a bear, an' I didn't move until she cried out your +name an' you jumped up. If she had seen a bear in the fire-glow she +wouldn't have thought it was Mortimer FitzHugh, would she? It's possible, +but it ain't likely, though I do say it's mighty queer why he should be in +this camp alone. It's up to us to watch pretty close until daylight." + +"He wouldn't be here alone," asserted Aldous. "Let's get out of the light, +Mac. If you're right, the whole gang isn't far away!" + +"They ain't in rifle-shot," said MacDonald. "I heard him running a hundred +yards out there. That's the queer thing about it! Why didn't they jump on +us when they had the chance?" + +"We'll hope that it was a dream," replied Aldous. "If Joanne was dreaming +of FitzHugh, and while still half asleep saw something in camp, she might +easily imagine the rest. But we'll keep watch. Shall I move out there?" + +MacDonald nodded, and the two men separated. For two hours they patrolled +the darkness, waiting and listening. With dawn Aldous returned to camp to +arouse Joanne and begin breakfast. He was anxious to see what effect the +incident of the night had on her. Her appearance reassured him. When he +referred to the dream, and the manner in which she had come out into the +night, a lovely confusion sent the blushes into her face. He kissed her +until they grew deeper, and she hid her face on his neck. + +And then she whispered something, with her face still against his shoulder, +that drove the hot blood into his own cheeks. + +"You are my husband, John, and I don't suppose I should be ashamed to let +you see me in my bare feet. But, John--you have made me feel that way, and +I am--your wife!" + +He held her head close against him so that she could not see his face. + +"I wanted to show you--that I loved you--'that much," he said, scarcely +knowing what words he was speaking. "Joanne, my darling----" + +A soft hand closed his lips. + +"I know, John," she interrupted him softly. "And I love you so for it, and +I'm so proud of you--oh, so proud, John!" + +He was glad that MacDonald came crashing through the bush then. Joanne +slipped from his arms and ran into the tepee. + +In MacDonald's face was a grim and sullen look. + +"You missed your chance, all right, Johnny," he growled. "I found where a +horse was tied out there. The tracks lead to a big slide of rock that opens +a break in the west range. Whoever it was has beat it back into the other +valley. I can't understand, s'elp me God, I can't, Johnny! Why should +FitzHugh come over into this valley alone? And he _rode_ over! I'd say the +devil couldn't do that!" + +He said nothing more, but went out to lead in the hobbled horses, leaving +Aldous in half-stunned wonderment to finish the preparation of breakfast. +Joanne reappeared a little later, and helped him. It was six o'clock before +breakfast was over and they were ready to begin their day's journey. As +they were throwing the hitch over the last pack, MacDonald said in a low +voice to Aldous: + +"Everything may happen to-day, Johnny. I figger we'll reach the end by +sundown. An' what don't happen there may happen along the trail. Keep a +rifle-shot behind with Joanne. If there's unexpected shooting, we want what +you might call a reserve force in the rear. I figger I can see danger, if +there is any, an' I can do it best alone." + +Aldous knew that in these last hours Donald MacDonald's judgment must be +final, and he made no objection to an arrangement which seemed to place the +old hunter under a more hazardous risk than his own. And he realized fully +that these were the last hours. For the first time he had seen MacDonald +fill his pockets with the finger-long cartridges for his rifle, and he had +noted how carefully he had looked at the breech of that rifle. Without +questioning, he had followed the mountaineer's example. There were fifty +spare cartridges in his own pockets. His .303 was freshly cleaned and +oiled. He had tested the mechanism of his automatic. MacDonald had watched +him, and both understood what such preparations meant as they set out on +this last day's journey into the North. They had not kept from Joanne the +fact that they would reach the end before night, and as they rode the +prescribed distance behind the old hunter Aldous wondered how much she +guessed, and what she knew. They had given her to understand that they were +beating out the rival party, but he believed that in spite of all their +efforts there was in Joanne's mind a comprehension which she did not reveal +in voice or look. To-day she was no different than yesterday, or the day +before, except that her cheeks were not so deeply flushed, and there was an +uneasy questing in her eyes. He believed that she sensed the nearness of +tragedy, that she was conscious of what they were now trying to hide from +her, and that she did not speak because she knew that he and MacDonald did +not want her to know. His heart throbbed with pride. Her courage inspired +him. And he noticed that she rode closer to him--always at his side through +that day. + +Early in the afternoon MacDonald stopped on the crest of a swell in the +valley and waited for them. When they came up he was facing the north. He +did not look at them. For a few moments he did not speak. His hat was +pulled low, and his beard was twitching. + +They looked ahead. At their feet the valley broadened until it was a mile +in width. Half a mile away a band of caribou were running for the cover of +a parklike clump of timber. MacDonald did not seem to notice them. He was +still looking steadily, and he was gazing at a mountain. It was a +tremendous mountain, a terrible-looking, ugly mountain, perhaps three miles +away. Aldous had never seen another like it. Its two huge shoulders were of +almost ebon blackness, and glistened in the sunlight as if smeared with +oil. Between those two shoulders rose a cathedral-like spire of rock and +snow that seemed to tip the white fleece of the clouds. + +MacDonald did not turn when he spoke. His voice was deep and vibrant with +an intense emotion. Yet he was not excited. + +"I've been hunting for that mount'in for forty years, Johnny!" + +"Mac!" + +Aldous leaned over and laid a hand on the old mountaineer's shoulder. Still +MacDonald did not look at him. + +"Forty years," he repeated, as if speaking to himself. "I see how I missed +it now, just as DeBar said. I hunted from the west, an' on that side the +mount'in ain't black. We must have crossed this valley an' come in from the +east forty years ago, Johnny----" + +He turned now, and what Joanne and Aldous saw in his face was not grief; it +was not the sorrow of one drawing near to his beloved dead, but a joy that +had transfigured him. The fire and strength of the youth in which he had +first looked upon this valley with Jane at his side burned again in the +sunken eyes of Donald MacDonald. After forty years he had come into his +own. Somewhere very near was the cavern with the soft white floor of sand, +and for a moment Aldous fancied that he could hear the beating of +MacDonald's heart, while from Joanne's tender bosom there rose a deep, +sobbing breath of understanding. + +And MacDonald, facing the mountain again, pointed with a long, gaunt arm, +and said: + +"We're almost there, Johnny. God ha' mercy on them if they've beat us out!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +They rode on into the Valley of Gold. Again MacDonald took the lead, and he +rode straight into the face of the black mountain. Aldous no longer made an +effort to keep Joanne in ignorance of what might be ahead of them. He put a +sixth cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, and carried the weapon +across the pommel of his saddle. He explained to her now why they were +riding behind--that if their enemies were laying in wait for them, +MacDonald, alone, could make a swift retreat. Joanne asked no questions. +Her lips were set tight. She was pale. + +At the end of three quarters of an hour it seemed to them that MacDonald +was riding directly into the face of a wall of rock. Then he swung sharply +to the left, and disappeared. When they came to the point where he had +turned they found that he had entered a concealed break in the mountain--a +chasm with walls that rose almost perpendicular for a thousand feet above +their heads. A dark and solemn gloom pervaded this chasm, and Aldous drew +nearer to MacDonald, his rifle held in readiness, and his bridle-rein +fastened to his saddle-horn. The chasm was short. Sunlight burst upon them +suddenly, and a few minutes later MacDonald waited for them again. + +Even Aldous could not restrain an exclamation of surprise when he rode up +with Joanne. Under them was another valley, a wide-sweeping valley between +two rugged ranges that ran to the southwest. Up out of it there came to +their ears a steady, rumbling roar; the air was filled with that roar; the +earth seemed to tremble with it under their feet--and yet it was not loud. +It came sullenly, as if from a great distance. + +And then they saw that MacDonald was not looking out over the sweep of the +valley, but down. Half a mile under them there was a dip--a valley within a +valley--and through it ran the silver sheen of a stream. MacDonald spoke no +word now. He dismounted and levelled his long telescope at the little +valley. Aldous helped Joanne from her horse, and they waited. A great +breath came at last from the old hunter. Slowly he turned. He did not give +the telescope to Aldous, but to Joanne. She looked. For a full minute she +seemed scarcely to breathe. Her hands trembled when she turned to give the +glass to Aldous. + +"I see--log cabins!" she whispered. + +MacDonald placed a detaining hand on her arm. + +"Look ag'in--Joanne," he said in a low voice that had in it a curious +quiver. + +Again she raised the telescope to her eyes. + +"You see the little cabin--nearest the river?" whispered Donald. + +"Yes, I see it." + +"That was our cabin--Jane's an' mine--forty years ago," he said, and now +his voice was husky. + +Joanne's breath broke sobbingly as she gave Aldous the glass. Something +seemed to choke him as he looked down upon the scene of the grim tragedy +in which Donald MacDonald and Jane had played their fatal part. He saw the +cabins as they had stood for nearly half a century. There were four. Three +of them were small, and the fourth was large. They might have been built +yesterday, for all that he could see of ruin or decay. The doors and +windows of the larger cabin and two of the smaller ones were closed. The +roofs were unbroken. The walls appeared solid. Twice he looked at the +fourth cabin, with its wide-open door and window, and twice he looked at +the cabin nearest the stream, where had lived Donald MacDonald and Jane. + +Donald had moved, and Joanne was watching him tensely, when he took the +glass from his eyes. Mutely the old mountaineer held out a hand, and Aldous +gave him the telescope. Crouching behind a rock he slowly swept the valley. +For half an hour he looked through the glass, and in that time scarce a +word was spoken. During the last five minutes of that half-hour both Joanne +and Aldous knew that MacDonald was looking at the little cabin nearest the +stream, and with hands clasped tightly they waited in silence. + +At last old Donald rose, and his face and voice were filled with a +wonderful calm. + +"There ain't been no change," he said softly. "I can see the log in front +o' the door that I used to cut kindling on. It was too tough for them to +split an' burn after we left. An' I can see the tub I made out o' spruce +for Jane. It's leaning next the door, where I put it the day before we went +away. Forty years ain't very long, Johnny! It ain't very long!" + +Joanne had turned from them, and Aldous knew that she was crying. + +"An' we've beat 'em to it, Johnny--we've beat 'em to it!" exulted +MacDonald. "There ain't a sign of life in the valley, and we sure could +make it out from here if there was!" + +He climbed into his saddle, and started down the slope of the mountain. +Aldous went to Joanne. She was sobbing. Her eyes were blinded by tears. + +"It's terrible, terrible," she whispered brokenly. "And it--it's beautiful, +John. I feel as though I'd like to give my life--to bring Jane back!" + +"You must not betray tears or grief to Donald," said Aldous, drawing her +close in his arms for a moment. "Joanne--sweetheart--it is a wonderful +thing that is happening with him! I dreaded this day--I have dreaded it for +a long time. I thought that it would be terrible to witness the grief of a +man with a heart like Donald's. But he is not filled with grief, Joanne. It +is joy, a great happiness that perhaps neither you nor I can +understand--that has come to him now. Don't you understand? He has found +her. He has found their old home. To-day is the culmination of forty years +of hope, and faith, and prayer. And it does not bring him sorrow, but +gladness. We must rejoice with him. We must be happy with him. I love you, +Joanne. I love you above all else on earth or in heaven. Without you I +would not want to live. And yet, Joanne, I believe that I am no happier +to-day than is Donald MacDonald!" + +With a sudden cry Joanne flung her arms about his neck. + +"John, is it _that?_" she cried, and joy shone through her tears. "Yes, +yes, I understand now! His heart is not breaking. It is life returning into +a heart that was empty. I understand--oh, I understand now! And we must be +happy with him. We must be happy when we find the cavern--and Jane!" + +"And when we go down there to the little cabin that was their home." + +"Yes--yes!" + +They followed behind MacDonald. After a little a spur of the mountain-side +shut out the little valley from them, and when they rounded this they found +themselves very near to the cabins. They rode down a beautiful slope into +the basin, and when he reached the log buildings old Donald stopped and +dismounted. Again Aldous helped Joanne from her horse. Ahead of them +MacDonald went to the cabin nearest the stream. At the door he paused and +waited for them. + +"Forty years!" he said, facing them. "An' there ain't been so very much +change as I can see!" + +Years had dropped from his shoulders in these last few minutes, and even +Aldous could not keep quite out of his face his amazement and wonder. Very +gently Donald put his hand to the latch, as though fearing to awaken some +one within; and very gently he pressed down on it, and put a bit of his +strength against the door. It moved inward, and when it had opened +sufficiently he leaned forward so that his head and a half of his shoulders +were inside; and he looked--a long time he looked, without a movement of +his body or a breath that they could see. + +And then he turned to them again, and his eyes were shining as they had +never seen them shine before. + +"I'll open the window," he said. "It's dark--dark inside." + +He went to the window, which was closed with a sapling barricade that had +swung on hinges; and when he swung it back the rusted hinges gave way, and +the thing crashed down at his feet. And now through the open window the sun +poured in a warm radiance, and Donald entered the cabin, with Joanne and +Aldous close behind him. + +There was not much in the cabin, but what it held was earth, and heaven, +and all else to Donald MacDonald. A strange, glad cry surged from his chest +as he looked about him, and now Joanne saw and understood what John Aldous +had told her--for Donald MacDonald, after forty years, had come back to his +home! + +"Oh, my Gawd, Johnny, they didn't touch anything! They didn't touch +anything!" he breathed in ecstasy. "I thought after we ran away they'd come +in----" + +He broke off, and his hat dropped from his hand, and he stood and stared; +and what he was looking at, the sun fell upon in a great golden splash, and +Joanne's hand gripped John's, and held to it tightly. Against the wall, +hanging as they had hung for forty years, were a woman's garments: a hood, +a shawl, a dress, and an apron that was half in tatters; and on the floor +under these things were _a pair of shoes_. And as Donald MacDonald went to +them, his arms reaching out, his lips moving, forgetful of all things but +that he had come home, and Jane was here, Joanne drew Aldous softly to the +door, and they went out into the day. + +Joanne did not speak, and Aldous did not urge her. He saw her white throat +throbbing as if there were a little heart beating there, and her eyes were +big and dark and velvety, like the eyes of a fawn that had been frightened. +There was a thickness in his own throat, and he found that it was difficult +for him to see far out over the plain. They waited near the horses. Fifty +yards from them ran the stream; a clear, beautiful stream which flowed in +the direction from which the mysterious ramble of thunder seemed to come. +This, Aldous knew, was the stream of gold. In the sand he saw wreckage +which he knew were the ancient rockers; a shovel, thrust shaft-deep, still +remained where it had last been planted. + +Perhaps for ten minutes Donald MacDonald remained in the cabin. Then he +came out. Very carefully he closed the door. His shoulders were thrown +back. His head was held high. He looked like a monarch. + +And his voice was calm. + +"Everything is there, Johnny--everything but the gold," he said. "They took +that." + +Now he spoke to Joanne. + +"You better not go with us into the other cabins," he said. + +"Why?" she asked softly. + +"Because--there's death in them all." + +"I am going," she said. + +From the window of the largest cabin MacDonald pulled the sapling shutter, +and, like the other, it fell at his feet. Then they opened the door, and +entered; and here the sunlight revealed the cabin's ghastly tragedy. The +first thing that they saw, because it was most terrible, was a rough table, +half over which lay the shrunken thing that had once been a man. A part of +its clothes still remained, but the head had broken from its column, and +the white and fleshless skull lay facing them. Out of tattered and +dust-crumbling sleeves reached the naked bones of hands and arms. And on +the floor lay another of these things, in a crumpled and huddled heap, only +the back of the skull showing, like the polished pate of a bald man. These +things they saw first, and then two others: on the table were a heap of +age-blackened and dusty sacks, and out of the back of the crumbling thing +that guarded them stuck the long buckhorn hilt of a knife. + +"They must ha' died fighting," said MacDonald. "An' there, Johnny, is their +gold!" + +White as death Joanne stood in the door and watched them. MacDonald and +Aldous went to the sacks. They were of buckskin. The years had not aged +them. When Aldous took one in his hands he found that it was heavier than +lead. With his knife MacDonald cut a slit in one of them, and the sun that +came through the window flashed in a little golden stream that ran from the +bag. + +"We'll take them out and put 'em in a pannier," said MacDonald. "The others +won't be far behind us, Johnny." + +Between them they carried out the seven sacks of gold. It was a load for +their arms. They put it in one of the panniers, and then MacDonald nodded +toward the cabin next the one that had been his own. + +"I wouldn't go in there, Joanne," he said. + +"I'm going," she whispered again. + +"It was _their_ cabin--the man an' his wife," persisted old Donald. "An' +the men was beasts, Joanne! I don't know what happened in there--but I +guess." + +"I'm going," she said again. + +MacDonald pulled down the barricade from the window--a window that also +faced the south and west, and this time he had to thrust against the door +with his shoulder. They entered, and now a cry came from Joanne's lips--a +cry that had in it horror, disbelief, a woman's wrath. Against the wall was +a pile of something, and on that pile was the searching first light of day +that had fallen upon it for nearly half a century. The pile was a man +crumpled down; across it, her skeleton arms thrown about it protectingly, +was a woman. This time Aldous did not go forward. MacDonald was alone, and +Aldous took Joanne from the cabin, and held her while she swayed in his +arms. Donald came out a little later, and there was a curious look of +exultation and triumph in his face. + +"She killed herself," he said. "That was her husband. I know him. I gave +him the rock-nails he put in the soles of his boots--and the nails are +still there." + +He went alone into the remaining two cabins, while Aldous stood with +Joanne. He did not stay long. From the fourth cabin he brought an armful of +the little brown sacks. He returned, and brought a second armful. + +"There's three more in that last cabin," he explained. "Two men, an' a +woman. She must ha' been the wife of the man they killed. They were the +last to live, an' they starved to death. An' now, Johnny----" + +He paused, and he drew in a great breath. + +He was looking to the west, where the sun was beginning to sink behind the +mountains. + +"An' now, Johnny, if you're ready, an' if Joanne is ready, we'll go," he +said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +As they went up out of the basin into the broad meadows of the larger +valley, MacDonald rode between Aldous and Joanne, and the pack-horses, led +by Pinto, trailed behind. + +Again old Donald said, as he searched the valley: + +"We've beat 'em, Johnny. Quade an' Rann are coming up on the other side of +the range, and I figger they're just about a day behind--mebby only hours, +or an hour. You can't tell. There's more gold back there. We got about a +hunderd pounds in them fifteen sacks, an' there was twice that much. It's +hid somewhere. Calkins used to keep his'n under the floor. So did Watts. +We'll find it later. An' the river, an' the dry gulches on both sides of +the valley--they're full of it! It's all gold, Johnny--gold everywhere!" + +He pointed ahead to where the valley rose in a green slope between two +mountains half a mile away. + +"That's the break," he said. "It don't seem very far now, do it, Joanne?" +His silence seemed to have dropped from him like a mantle, and there was +joy in what he was telling. "But it was a distance that night--a tumble +distance," he continued, before she could answer. "That was forty-one years +ago, coming November. An' it was cold, an' the snow was deep. It was bitter +cold--so cold it caught my Jane's lungs, an' that was what made her go a +little later. The slope up there don't look steep now, but it was steep +then--with two feet of snow to drag ourselves through. I don't think the +cavern is more'n five or six miles away, Johnny, mebby less, an' it took us +twenty hours to reach it. It snowed so heavy that night, an' the wind +blowed so, that our trail was filled up or they might ha' followed." + +Many times Aldous had been on the point of asking old Donald a question. +For the first time he asked it now, even as his eyes swept slowly and +searchingly over the valley for signs of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. + +"I've often wondered why you ran away with Jane," he said. "I know what +threatened her--a thing worse than death. But why did you run? Why didn't +you stay and fight?" + +A low growl rumbled in MacDonald's beard. + +"Johnny, Johnny, if I only ha' could!" he groaned. "There was five of them +left when I ran into the cabin an' barricaded myself there with Jane. I +stuck my gun out of the window an' they was afraid to rush the cabin. They +was _afraid_, Johnny, all that afternoon--_an' I didn't have a cartridge +left to fire!_ That's why we went just as soon as we could crawl out in the +dark. I knew they'd come that night. I might ha' killed one or two hand to +hand, for I was big an' strong in them days, Johnny, but I knew I couldn't +beat 'em all. So we went." + +"After all, death isn't so very terrible," said Joanne softly, and she was +riding so close that for a moment she laid one of her warm hands on Donald +MacDonald's. + +"No, it's sometimes--wunnerful--an' beautiful," replied Donald, a little +brokenly, and with that he rode ahead, and Joanne and Aldous waited until +the pack-horses had passed them. + +"He's going to see that all is clear at the summit," explained Aldous. + +They seemed to be riding now right into the face of that mysterious rumble +and roar of the mountains. It was an hour before they all stood together at +the top of the break, and here MacDonald swung sharply to the right, and +came soon to the rock-strewn bed of a dried-up stream that in ages past had +been a wide and rushing torrent. Steadily, as they progressed down this, +the rumble and roar grew nearer. It seemed that it was almost under their +feet, when again MacDonald turned, and a quarter of an hour later they +found themselves at the edge of a small plain; and now all about them were +cold and towering mountains that shut out the sun, and a hundred yards to +their right was a great dark cleft in the floor of the plain, and up out of +this came the rumble and roar that was like the sullen anger of monster +beasts imprisoned deep down in the bowels of the earth. + +MacDonald got off his horse, and Aldous and Joanne rode up to him. In the +old man's face was a look of joy and triumph. + +"It weren't so far as I thought it was, Johnny!" he cried. "Oh, it must ha' +been a turrible night--a turrible night when Jane an' I come this way! It +took us twenty hours, Johnny!" + +"We are near the cavern?" breathed Joanne. + +"It ain't more'n half a mile farther on, I guess. But we'll camp here. +We're pretty well hid. They can't find us. An' from that summit up there +we can keep watch in both valleys." + +Knowing the thoughts that were in MacDonald's mind, and how full his heart +was with a great desire, Aldous went to him when they had dismounted. + +"You go on alone if there is time to-night, Mac," he said, knowing that the +other would understand him. "I will make camp." + +"There ain't no one in the valley," mused the old man, a little doubtfully +at first. "It would be safe--quite safe, Johnny." + +"Yes, it will be safe." + +"And I will stand guard while John is working," said Joanne, who had come +to them. "No one can approach us without being seen." + +For another moment MacDonald hesitated. Then he said: + +"Do you see that break over there across the plain? It's the open to a +gorge. Johnny, it do seem unreasonable--it do seem as though I must ha' +been dreamin'--when I think that it took us twenty hours! But the snow was +to my waist in this plain, an' it was slow work--turrible slow work! I +think the cavern--ain't on'y a little way up that gorge." + +"You can make it before the sun is quite gone." + +"An' I could hear you shout, or your gun. I could ride back in five +minutes--an' I wouldn't be gone an hour." + +"There is no danger," urged Aldous. + +A deep breath came from old Donald's breast. + +"I guess--I'll go, Johnny, if you an' Joanne don't mind." + +He looked about him, and then he pointed toward the face of a great rock. + +"Put the tepee up near that," he said. "Pile the saddles, an' the blankets, +an' the panniers around it, so it'll look like a real camp, Johnny. But it +won't be a real camp. It'll be a dummy. See them thick spruce an' cedar +over there? Build Joanne a shelter of boughs in there, an' take in some +grub, an' blankets, an' the gold. See the point, Johnny? If anything should +happen----" + +"They'd tackle the bogus camp!" cried Aldous with elation. "It's a splendid +idea!" + +He set at once about unpacking the horses, and Joanne followed close at his +side to help him. MacDonald mounted his horse and rode at a trot in the +direction of the break in the mountain. + +The sun had disappeared, but its reflection was still on the peaks; and +after he had stripped and hobbled the horses Aldous took advantage of the +last of day to scrutinize the plain and the mountain slopes through the +telescope. After that he found enough dry poles with which to set up the +tepee, and about this he scattered the saddles and panniers, as MacDonald +had suggested. Then he cleared a space in the thick spruce, and brought to +it what was required for their hidden camp. + +It was almost dark when he completed the spruce and cedar lean-to for +Joanne. He knew that to-night they must build no fire, not even for tea; +and when they had laid out the materials for their cold supper, which +consisted of beans, canned beef and tongue, peach marmalade, bread bannock, +and pickles and cheese, he went with Joanne for water to a small creek they +had crossed a hundred yards away. In both his hands, ready for instant +action, he carried his rifle. Joanne carried the pail. Her eyes were big +and bright and searching in that thick-growing dusk of night. She walked +very close to Aldous, and she said: + +"John, I know how careful you and Donald have been in this journey into the +North. I know what you have feared. Culver Rann and Quade are after the +gold, and they are near. But why does Donald talk as though we are _surely_ +going to be attacked by them, or are _surely_ going to attack them? I don't +understand it, John. If you don't care for the gold so much, as you told me +once, and if we find Jane to-morrow, or to-night, why do we remain to have +trouble with Quade and Culver Rann? Tell me, John." + +He could not see her face fully in the gloom, and he was glad that she +could not see his. + +"If we can get away without fighting, we will, Joanne," he lied. And he +knew that she would have known that he was lying if it had not been for the +darkness. + +"You won't fight--over the gold?" she asked, pressing his arm. "Will you +promise me that, John?" + +"Yes, I promise that. I swear it!" he cried, and so forcefully that she +gave a glad little laugh. + +"Then if they don't find us to-morrow, we'll go back home?" She trembled, +and he knew that her heart was filled with a sudden lightness. "And I don't +believe they will find us. They won't come beyond that terrible place--and +the gold! Why should they, John? Why should they follow us--if we leave +them everything? Oh-h-h-h!" She shuddered, and whispered: "I wish we had +not brought the gold, John. I wish we had left it behind!" + +"What we have is worth thirty or forty thousand dollars," he said +reassuringly, as he filled his pail with water and they began to return. +"We can do a great deal of good with that. Endowments, for instance," he +laughed. + +As he spoke, they both stopped, and listened. Plainly they heard the +approaching thud of hoofs. MacDonald had been gone nearer two hours than +one, and believing that it was him, Aldous gave the owl signal. The signal +floated back to them softly. Five minutes later MacDonald rode up and +dismounted. Until he had taken the saddle off, and had hobbled his horse, +he did not speak. Neither Joanne nor Aldous asked the question that was in +their hearts. But even in the darkness they felt something. It was as if +not only the torrent rushing through the chasm, but MacDonald's heart as +well, was charging the air with a strange and subdued excitement. And when +MacDonald spoke, that which they had felt was in his voice. + +"You ain't seen or heard anything, Johnny?" + +"Nothing. And you--Donald?" + +In the darkness, Joanne went to the old man, and her hand found one of his, +and clasped it tightly; and she found that Donald MacDonald's big hand was +trembling in a strange and curious way, and she could feel him quivering. + +"You found Jane?" she whispered. + +"Yes, I found her, little Joanne." + +She did not let go of his hand until they entered the open space which +Aldous had made in the spruce. Then she remembered what Aldous had said to +her earlier in the day, and cheerfully she lighted the two candles they +had set out, and forced Aldous down first upon the ground, and then +MacDonald, and began to help them to beans and meat and bannock, while all +the time her heart was crying out to know about the cavern--and Jane. The +candleglow told her a great deal, for in it Donald MacDonald's face was +very calm, and filled with a great peace, despite the trembling she had +felt. Her woman's sympathy told her that his heart was too full on this +night for speech, and when he ate but little she did not urge him to eat +more; and when he rose and went silently and alone out into the darkness +she held Aldous back; and when, still a little later, she went into her +nest for the night, she whispered softly to him: + +"I know that he found Jane as he wanted to find her, and he is happy. I +think he has gone out there alone--to cry." And for a time after that, as +he sat in the gloom, John Aldous knew that Joanne was sobbing like a little +child in the spruce and cedar shelter he had built for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +If MacDonald slept at all that night Aldous did not know it. The old +mountaineer watched until a little after twelve in the deep shadow of a +rock between the two camps. + +"I can't sleep," he protested, when Aldous urged him to take his rest. "I +might take a little stroll up the plain, Johnny--but I can't sleep." + +The plain lay in a brilliant starlight at this hour; they could see the +gleam of the snow-peaks--the light was almost like the glow of the moon. + +"There'll be plenty of sleep after to-morrow," added MacDonald, and there +was a finality in his voice and words which set the other's blood stirring. + +"You think they will show up to-morrow?" + +"Yes. This is the same valley the cabins are in, Johnny. That big mountain +runs out an' splits it, an' it curves like a horseshoe. From that mount'in +we can see them, no matter which way they come. They'll go straight to the +cabins. There's a deep little run under the slope. You didn't see it when +we came out, but it'll take us within a hunderd yards of 'em. An' at a +hunderd yards----" + +He shrugged his shoulders suggestively in the starlight, and there was a +smile on his face. + +"It seems almost like murder," shuddered Aldous. + +"But it ain't,'" replied MacDonald quickly. "It's self-defence! If we +don't do it, Johnny--if we don't draw on them first, what happened there +forty years ago is goin' to happen again--with Joanne!" + +"A hundred yards," breathed Aldous, his jaws setting hard. "And there are +five!" + +"They'll go into the cabins," said MacDonald. "At some time there will be +two or three outside, an' we'll take them first. At the sound of the shots +the others will run out, and it will be easy. Yo' can't very well miss a +man at a hunderd yards, Johnny?" + +"No, I won't miss." + +MacDonald rose. + +"I'm goin' to take a little stroll, Johnny." + +For two hours after that Aldous was alone. He knew why old Donald could not +sleep, and where he had gone, and he pictured him sitting before the little +old cabin in the starlit valley communing with the spirit of Jane. And +during those two hours he steeled himself for the last time to the thing +that was going to happen when the day came. + +It was nearly three o'clock when MacDonald returned. It was four o'clock +before he roused Joanne; and it was five o'clock when they had eaten their +breakfast, and MacDonald prepared to leave for the mountain with his +telescope. Aldous had observed Joanne talking to him for several minutes +alone, and he had also observed that her eyes were very bright, and that +there was an unusual eagerness in her manner of listening to what the old +man was saying. The significance of this did not occur to him when she +urged him to accompany MacDonald. + +"Two pairs of eyes are better than one, John," she said, "and I cannot +possibly be in danger here. I can see you all the time, and you can see +me--if I don't run away, or hide." And she laughed a little breathlessly. +"There is no danger, is there, Donald?" + +The old hunter shook his head. + +"There's no danger, but--you might be lonesome," he said. + +Joanne put her pretty mouth close to Aldous' ear. + +"I want to be alone for a little while, dear," she whispered, and there was +that mystery in her voice which kept him from questioning her, and made him +go with MacDonald. + +In three quarters of an hour they had reached the spur of the mountain from +which MacDonald had said they could see up the valley, and also the break +through which they had come the preceding afternoon. The morning mists +still hung low, but as these melted away under the sun mile after mile of a +marvellous panorama spread out swiftly under them, and as the distance of +their vision grew, the deeper became the disappointment in MacDonald's +face. For half an hour after the mists had gone he neither spoke nor +lowered the telescope from his eyes. A mile away Aldous saw three caribou +crossing the valley. A little later, on a green slope, he discerned a +moving hulk that he knew was a bear. He did not speak until old Donald +lowered the glass. + +"I can see for eight miles up the valley, an' there ain't a soul in sight," +said MacDonald in answer to his question. "I figgered they'd be along about +now, Johnny." + +A dozen times Aldous had looked back at the camp. Twice he had seen Joanne. +He looked now through the telescope. She was nowhere in sight. A bit +nervously he returned the telescope to MacDonald. + +"And I can't see Joanne," he said. + +MacDonald looked. For five minutes he levelled the glass steadily at the +camp. Then he shifted it slowly westward, and a low exclamation broke from +his lips as he lowered the glass, and looked at Aldous. + +"Johnny, she's just goin' into the gorge! She was just disappearin' when I +caught her!" + +"Going into--the gorge!" gasped Aldous, jumping to his feet. "Mac----" + +MacDonald rose and stood at his side. There was something reassuring in the +rumbling laugh that came from deep in his chest. + +"She's beat us!" he chuckled. "Bless her, she's beat us! I didn't guess why +she was askin' me all them questions. An' I told her, Johnny--told her just +where the cavern was up there in the gorge, an' how you wouldn't hardly +miss it if you tried. An' she asked me how long it would take to _walk_ +there, an' I told her half an hour. An' she's going to the cavern, Johnny!" + +He was telescoping his long glass as he spoke, and while Aldous was still +staring toward the gorge in wonderment and a little fear, he added: + +"We'd better follow. Quade an' Rann can't get here inside o' two or three +hours, an' we'll be back before then." Again he rumbled with that curious +chuckling laugh. "She beat us, Johnny, she beat us fair! An' she's got +spirrit, a wunnerful spirrit, to go up there alone!" + +Aldous wanted to run, but he held himself down to MacDonald's stride. His +heart trembled apprehensively as they hurriedly descended the mountain and +cut across the plain. He could not quite bring himself to MacDonald's point +of assurance regarding Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. The old mountaineer was +positive that the other party was behind them. Aldous asked himself if it +were not possible that Quade and FitzHugh were _ahead_ of them, and already +waiting and watching for their opportunity. He had suggested that they +might have swung farther to the west, with the plan of descending upon the +valley from the north, and MacDonald had pointed out how unlikely this was. +In spite of this, Aldous was not in a comfortable frame of mind as they +hurried after Joanne. She had half an hour's start of them when they +reached the mouth of the gorge, and not until they had travelled another +half-hour up the rough bed of the break between the two mountains, and +MacDonald pointed ahead, and said: "There's the cavern!" did he breathe +easier. + +They could see the mouth of the cavern when they were yet a couple of +hundred yards from it. It was a wide, low cleft in the north face of the +chasm wall, and in front of it, spreading out like the flow of a stream, +was a great spatter of white sand, like a huge rug that had been spread out +in a space cleared of its chaotic litter of rock and broken slate. At first +glance Aldous guessed that the cavern had once been the exit of a +subterranean stream. The sand deadened the sound of their footsteps as they +approached. At the mouth of the cave they paused. It was perhaps forty or +fifty feet deep, and as high as a nine-foot room. Inside it was quite +light. Halfway to the back of it, upon her knees, and with her face turned +from them, was Joanne. + +They were very close to her before she heard them. With a startled cry she +sprang to her feet, and Aldous and MacDonald saw what she had been doing. +Over a long mound in the white sand still rose the sapling stake which +Donald had planted there forty years before; and about this, and scattered +over the grave, were dozens of wild asters and purple hyacinths which +Joanne had brought from the plain. Aldous did not speak, but he took her +hand, and looked down with her on the grave. And then something caught his +eyes among the flowers, and Joanne drew him a step nearer, her eyes shining +like velvet stars, while his heart beat faster when he saw what the object +was. It was a book, open in the middle, and it lay face downward on the +grave. It was old, and looked as though it might have fallen into dust at +the touch of his finger. Joanne's voice was low and filled with a +whispering awe. + +"It was her Bible, John!" + +He turned a little, and noticed that Donald had gone to the mouth of the +cavern, and was looking toward the mountain. + +"It was her Bible," he heard Joanne repeating; and then MacDonald turned +toward them, and he saw in his face a look that seemed strange and out of +place in this home of his dead. He went to him, and Joanne followed. + +MacDonald had turned again--was listening--and holding his breath. Then he +said, still with his face toward the mountain and the valley: + +"I may be mistaken, Johnny, but I think I heard--a rifle-shot!" + +For a full minute they listened. + +"It seemed off there," said MacDonald, pointing to the south. "I guess +we'd better get back to camp, Johnny." + +He started ahead of them, and Aldous followed as swiftly as he could with +Joanne. She was panting with excitement, but she asked no questions. +MacDonald began to spring more quickly from rock to rock; over the level +spaces he began to run. He reached the edge of the plain four or five +hundred yards in advance of them, and was scanning the valley through his +telescope when they came up. + +"They're not on this side," he said. "They're comin' up the other leg of +the valley, Johnny. We've got to get to the mount'in before we can see +them." + +He closed the glass with a snap and swung it over his shoulder. Then he +pointed toward the camp. + +"Take Joanne down there," he commanded. "Watch the break we came through, +an' wait for me. I'm goin' up on the mount'in an' take a look!" + +The last words came back over his shoulder as he started on a trot down the +slope. Only once before had Aldous seen MacDonald employ greater haste, and +that was on the night of the attack on Joanne. He was convinced there was +no doubt in Donald's mind about the rifle-shot, and that the shot could +mean but one thing--the nearness of Mortimer FitzHugh and Quade. Why they +should reveal their presence in that way he did not ask himself as he +hurried down into the plain with Joanne. By the time they reached the camp +old Donald had covered two thirds of the distance to the mountain. Aldous +looked at his watch and a curious thrill shot through him. Only a little +more than an hour had passed since they had left the mountain to follow +Joanne, and in that time it would have been impossible for their enemies to +have covered more than a third of the eight-mile stretch of valley which +they had found empty of human life under the searching scrutiny of the +telescope! He was right--and MacDonald was wrong! The sound of the shot, if +there had been a shot, must have come from some other direction! + +He wanted to shout his warning to MacDonald, but already too great a +distance separated them. Besides, if he was right, MacDonald would run into +no danger in that direction. Their menace was to the north--beyond the +chasm out of which came the rumble and roar of the stream. When Donald had +disappeared up the slope he looked more closely at the rugged walls of rock +that shut them in on that side. He could see no break in them. His eyes +followed the dark streak in the floor of the plain, which was the chasm. It +was two hundred yards below where they were standing; and a hundred yards +beyond the tepee he saw where it came out of a great rent in the mountain. +He looked at Joanne. She had been watching him, and was breathing quickly. + +"While Donald is taking his look from the mountain, I'm going to +investigate the chasm," he said. + +She followed him, a few steps behind. The roar grew in their ears as they +advanced. After a little solid rock replaced the earth under their feet, +and twenty paces from the precipice Aldous took Joanne by the hand. They +went to the edge and looked over. Fifty feet below them the stream was +caught in the narrow space between the two chasm walls, and above the rush +and roar of it Aldous heard the startled cry that came from Joanne. She +clutched his hand fiercely. Fascinated she gazed down. The water, speeding +like a millrace, was a lather of foam; and up through this foam there shot +the crests of great rocks, as though huge monsters of some kind were at +play, whipping the torrent into greater fury, and bellowing forth +thunderous voices. Downstream Aldous could see that the tumult grew less; +from the rent in the mountain came the deeper, more distant-rolling thunder +that they had heard on the other side of the range. And then, as he looked, +a sharper cry broke from Joanne, and she dragged him back from the ledge, +and pointed toward the tepee. + +Out from among the rocks had appeared a human figure. It was a woman. Her +hair was streaming wildly about her, and in the sun it was black as a +crow's wing. She rushed to the tepee, opened the flap, and looked in. Then +she turned, and a cry that was almost a scream rang from her lips. In +another moment she had seen Aldous and Joanne, and was running toward them. +They advanced to meet her. Suddenly Aldous stopped, and with a sharp +warning to Joanne he threw his rifle half to his shoulder, and faced the +rocks from which the speeding figure had come. In that same instant they +both recognized her. It was Marie, the woman who had ridden the bear at +Tete Jaune, and with whom Mortimer FitzHugh had bought Joe DeBar! + +She staggered up to them, panting, exhausted, her breath coming in gulping +sobs. For a moment she could not speak. Her dress was torn; her waist was +ripped so that it exposed her throat and shoulder; and the front of the +waist and her face were stained with blood. Her black eyes shone like a +madwoman's. Fiercely she fought to get her breath, and all the time she +clung to Joanne, and looked at Aldous. She pointed toward the rocks--the +chaotic upheaval that lay between the tepee and the chasm--and words broke +gaspingly from her lips. + +"They're coming!--coming!" she cried. "They killed Joe--murdered him--and +they're coming--to kill you!" She clutched a hand to her breast, and then +pointed with it to the mountain where MacDonald had gone. "They saw him +go--and they sent two men to kill him; and the rest are coming through the +rocks!" She turned sobbingly to Joanne. "They killed Joe," she moaned. +"They killed Joe, and they're coming--for _you!_" + +The emphasis on that final word struck like a blow in the ears of John +Aldous. + +"Run for the spruce!" he commanded. "Joanne, run!" + +Marie had crumpled down in a moaning heap at Joanne's feet, and sat swaying +with her face in her hands. + +"They killed him--they murdered my Joe!" she was sobbing. "And it was my +fault--my fault! I trapped him! I sold him! And, oh, my God, I loved him--I +loved him!" + +"Run, Joanne!" commanded Aldous a second time. "Run for the spruce!" + +Instead of obeying him, Joanne knelt down beside Marie. + +He went to speak again, but there came an interruption--a thing that was +like the cold touch of lead in his own heart. From up on the mountain where +the old mountaineer had walked into the face of death there came the +sharp, splitting report of a rifle; and in that same instant it was +followed by another and still a third--quick, stinging, whiplike +reports--and he knew that not one of them had come from the gun of Donald +MacDonald! + +And then he saw that the rocks behind the tepee had become suddenly alive +with men! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Sheer amazement made Aldous hold his fire in that first moment. Marie had +said that two men were after MacDonald. He had heard three shots nearly a +mile away, and she was still sobbing that DeBar was dead. That accounted +for _three_. He had expected to see only Quade, and FitzHugh, and one other +behind the tepee. And there were six! He counted them as they came swiftly +out from the shelter of the rocks to the level of the plain. He was about +to fire when he thought of Joanne and Marie. They were still behind him, +crouching upon the ground. To fire from where he stood would draw a +fusillade of bullets in their direction, and with another warning cry to +Joanne, he sped twenty paces to one side so that they would not be within +range. Not until then did the attacking party see him. + +At a hundred and fifty yards he had no time to pick out Quade or Mortimer +FitzHugh. He fired first at a group of three, and one of the three crumpled +down as though his skull had been crushed from above. A rifle spat back at +him and the bullet sang like a ripping cloth close over his head. He +dropped to his knees before he fired again, and a bullet clove the air +where he had stood. The crack of rifles did not hurry him. He knew that he +had six cartridges, and only six, and he aimed deliberately. At his second +shot the man he had fired at ran forward three or four steps, and then +pitched flat on his face. For a flash Aldous thought that it was Mortimer +FitzHugh. Then, along his gun barrel, he saw FitzHugh--and pulled the +trigger. It was a miss. + +Two men had dropped upon their knees and were aiming more carefully. He +swung his sight to the foremost, and drove a bullet straight through his +chest. The next moment something seemed to have fallen upon him with +crushing weight. A red sea rose before his eyes. In it he was submerged; +the roar of it filled his ears; it blinded him; and in the suffocating +embrace of it he tried to cry out. He fought himself out of it, his eyes +cleared, and he could see again. His rifle was no longer in his hands, and +he was standing. Twenty feet away men were rushing upon him. His brain +recovered itself with the swiftness of lightning. A bullet had stunned him, +but he was not badly hurt. He jerked out his automatic, but before he could +raise it, or even fire from his hip, the first of his assailants was upon +him with a force that drove it from his hand. They went down together, and +as they struggled on the bare rock Aldous caught for a fraction of a second +a scene that burned itself like fire in his brain. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh +with a revolver in his hand. He had stopped; he was staring like one +looking upon the ghost of the dead, and as he stared there rose above the +rumbling roar of the chasm a wild and terrible shriek from Joanne. + +Aldous saw no more then. He was not fighting for his life, but for her, and +he fought with the mad ferocity of a tiger. As he struck, and choked, and +beat the head of his assailant on the rock, he heard shriek after shriek +come from Joanne's lips; and then for a flash he saw them again, and +Joanne was struggling in the arms of Quade! + +He struggled to his knees, and the man he was fighting struggled to his +knees; and then they came to their feet, locked in a death-grip on the edge +of the chasm. From Quade's clutch he saw Joanne staring at Mortimer +FitzHugh; then her eyes shot to him, and with another shriek she fought to +free herself. + +For thirty seconds of that terrible drama Mortimer FitzHugh stood as if +hewn out of rock. Then he sprang toward the fighters. + +In the arms of John Aldous was the strength of ten men. He twisted the head +of his antagonist under his arm; he braced his feet--in another moment he +would have flung him bodily into the roaring maelstrom below. Even as his +muscles gathered themselves for the final effort he knew that all was lost. +Mortimer FitzHugh's face leered over his shoulder, his demoniac intention +was in his eyes before he acted. With a cry of hatred and of triumph he +shoved them both over the edge, and as Aldous plunged to the depths below, +still holding to his enemy, he heard a last piercing scream from Joanne. + +As the rock slid away from under his feet his first thought was that the +end had come, and that no living creature could live in the roaring +maelstrom of rock and, flood into which he was plunging. But quicker than +he dashed through space his mind worked. Instinctively, without time for +reasoning, he gripped at the fact that his one chance lay in the close +embrace of his enemy. He hung to him. It seemed to him that they turned +over and over a hundred times in that distance of fifty feet. Then a mass +of twisting foam broke under him, and up out of it shot the head of one of +the roaring monsters of rock that he and Joanne had looked upon. They +struck it fairly, and Aldous was uppermost. He felt the terrific impact of +the other's body. The foam boiled upward again, and they slipped off into +the flood. + +Still Aldous held to his enemy. He could feel that he was limp now; he no +longer felt the touch of the hands that had choked him, or the embrace of +the arms that had struggled with him. He believed that his antagonist was +dead. The fifty-foot fall, with the rock splitting his back, had killed +him. For a moment Aldous still clung to him as they sank together under the +surface, torn and twisted by the whirling eddies and whirlpools. It seemed +to him that they would never cease going down, that they were sinking a +vast distance. + +Dully he felt the beat of rocks. Then it flashed upon him that the dead man +was sinking like a weighted thing. He freed himself. Fiercely he struggled +to bring himself to the surface. It seemed an eternity before he rose to +the top. He opened his mouth and drew a great gulp of air into his lungs. +The next instant a great rock reared like a living thing in his face; he +plunged against it, was beaten over it, and again he was going +down--down--in that deadly clutch of maelstrom and undertow. Again he +fought, and again he came to the surface. He saw a black, slippery wall +gliding past him with the speed of an express train. And now it seemed as +though a thousand clubs were beating him. Ahead of him were rocks--nothing +but rocks. + +He shot through them like a piece of driftwood. The roaring in his ears +grew less, and he felt the touch of something under his feet. Sunlight +burst upon him. He caught at a rock, and hung to it. His eyes cleared a +little. He was within ten feet of a shore covered with sand and gravel. The +water was smooth and running with a musical ripple. Waist-deep he waded +through it to the shore, and fell down upon his knees, with his face buried +in his arms. He had been ten minutes in the death-grip of the chasm. It was +another ten minutes before he staggered to his feet and looked about him. + +His face was beaten until he was almost blind. His shirt had been torn from +his shoulders and his flesh was bleeding. He advanced a few steps. He +raised one arm and then the other. He limped. One arm hurt him when he +moved it, but the bone was sound. He was terribly mauled, but he knew that +no bones were broken, and a gasp of thankfulness fell from his lips. All +this time his mind had been suffering even more than his body. Not for an +instant, even as he fought for life between the chasm walls, and as he lay +half unconscious on the rock, had he forgotten Joanne. His one thought was +of her now. He had no weapon, but as he stumbled in the direction of the +camp in the little plain he picked up a club that lay in his path. + +That MacDonald was dead, Aldous was certain. There would be four against +him--Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh and the two men who had gone to the +mountain. His brain cleared swiftly as a part of his strength returned, and +it occurred to him that if he lost no time he might come upon Joanne and +her captors before the two men came from killing old Donald. He tried to +run. Not until then did he fully realize the condition he was in. Twice in +the first hundred yards his legs doubled under him and he fell down among +the rocks. He grew steadily stronger, though each time he tried to run or +spring a distance of a few feet his legs doubled under him like that. It +took him twenty minutes to get back to the edge of the plain, and when he +got there it was empty. There was no sign of Quade or FitzHugh, or of +Joanne and Marie; and there was no one coming from the direction of the +mountain. + +He tried to run again, and he found that over the level floor of the valley +he could make faster time than among the rocks. He went to where he had +dropped his rifle. It was gone. He searched for his automatic. That, too, +was gone. There was one weapon left--a long skinning-knife in one of the +panniers near the tepee. As he went for this, he passed two of the men whom +he had shot. Quade and FitzHugh had taken their weapons, and had turned +them over to see if they were alive or dead. They were dead. He secured the +knife, and behind the tepee he passed the third body, its face as still and +white as the others. He shuddered as he recognized it. It was Slim Barker. +His rifle was gone. + +More swiftly now he made his way into the break out of which his assailants +had come a short time before. The thought came to him again that he had +been right, and that Donald MacDonald, in spite of all his years in the +mountains, had been fatally wrong. Their enemies had come down from the +north, and this break led to their hiding-place. Through it Joanne must +have been taken by her captors. As he made his way over the rocks, gaining +a little more of his strength with each step, his mind tried to picture the +situation that had now arisen between Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. How +would Quade, who was mad for possession of Joanne, accept FitzHugh's claim +of ownership? Would he believe his partner? Would he even believe Joanne +if, to save herself from him, she told him FitzHugh was her husband? Even +if he believed them, _would he give her up?_ Would Quade allow Mortimer +FitzHugh to stand between him and the object for which he was willing to +sacrifice everything? + +As Aldous asked himself these questions his blood ran hot and cold by +turns. And the answer to them drew a deep breath of fear and of anguish +from him as he tried again to run among the rocks. There could be but one +answer: Quade would fight. He would fight like a madman, and if this fight +had happened and FitzHugh had been killed Joanne had already gone utterly +and helplessly into his power. He believed that FitzHugh had not revealed +to Quade his relationship to Joanne while they were on the plain, and the +thought still more terrible came to him that he might not reveal it at all, +that he might repudiate Joanne even as she begged upon her knees for him to +save her. What a revenge it would be to see her helpless and broken in the +arms of Quade! And then, both being beasts---- + +He could think no farther. The sweat broke out on his face as he hobbled +faster over a level space. The sound of the water between the chasm walls +was now a thunder in his ears. He could not have heard a rifle-shot or a +scream a hundred yards away. The trail he was following had continually +grown narrower. It seemed to end a little ahead of him, and the fear that +he had come the wrong way after all filled him with dread. He came to the +face of the mountain wall, and then, to his left, he saw a crack that was +no wider than a man's body. In it there was sand, and the, sand was beaten +by footprints! He wormed his way through, and a moment later stood at the +edge of the chasm. Fifty feet above him a natural bridge of rock spanned +the huge cleft through which the stream was rushing. He crossed this, +exposing himself openly to a shot if it was guarded. But it was not +guarded. This fact convinced him that MacDonald had been killed, and that +his enemies believed he was dead. If MacDonald had escaped, and they had +feared a possible pursuit, some one would have watched the bridge. + +The trail was easy to follow now. Sand and grassy earth had replaced rock +and shale; he could make out the imprints of feet--many of them--and they +led in the direction of a piece of timber that apparently edged a valley +running to the east and west. The rumble of the torrent in the chasm grew +fainter as he advanced. A couple of hundred yards farther on the trail +swung to the left again; it took him around the end of a huge rock, and as +he appeared from behind this, his knife clutched in his hand, he dropped +suddenly flat on his face, and his heart rose like a lump in his throat. +Scarcely fifty yards above him was the camp of his enemies! There were two +tepees and piles of saddles and panniers and blankets about them, but not a +soul that he could see. And then, suddenly, there rose a voice bellowing +with rage, and he recognized it as Quade's. It came from beyond the tepee, +and he rose quickly from where he had thrown himself and ran forward, with +the tepee between him and those on the other side. Close to the canvas he +dropped on his knees and crawled out behind a pile of saddles and panniers. +From here he could see. + +So near that he could almost have touched them were Joanne and Marie, +seated on the ground, with their backs toward him. Their hands were tied +behind them. Their feet were bound with pannier ropes. A dozen paces beyond +them were Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh. + +The two men were facing each other, a yard apart. Mortimer FitzHugh's face +was white, a deadly white, and he was smiling. His right hand rested +carelessly in his hunting-coat pocket. There was a sneering challenge on +his lips; in his eyes was a look that Aldous knew meant death if Quade +moved. And Quade was like a great red beast ready to spring. His eyes +seemed bulging out on his cheeks; his great hands were knotted; his +shoulders were hunched forward, and his mottled face was ablaze with +passion. In that moment's dramatic tableau Aldous glanced about swiftly. +The men from the mountain had not returned. He was alone with Quade and +Mortimer FitzHugh. + +Then FitzHugh spoke, very quietly, a little laughingly; but his voice +trembled, and Aldous knew what the hand was doing in the hunting-coat +pocket. + +"You're excited, Billy," he said. "I'm not a liar, as you've very +impolitely told me. And I'm not playing you dirt, and I haven't fallen in +love with the lady myself, as you seem to think. But she belongs to me, +body and soul. If you don't believe me--why, ask the lady herself, Billy!" + +As he spoke, he turned his sneering eyes for the fraction of a second +toward Joanne. The movement was fatal. Quade was upon him. The hand in the +coat pocket flung itself upward, there followed a muffled report, but the +bullet flew wide. In all his life Aldous had never heard a sound like the +roar that came from Quade's throat then. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh's hand +appear with a pistol in it, and then the pistol was gone. He did not see +where it went to. He gripped his knife and waited, his heart beating with +what seemed like smothered explosions as he watched for the opportunity +which he knew would soon come. He expected to see FitzHugh go down under +Quade's huge bulk. Instead of that, a small, iron fist shot upward and +Quade's head went back as if broken from his neck. + +FitzHugh sprang a step backward, and in the movement his heel caught the +edge of a pack-saddle. He stumbled, almost fell, and before he could +recover himself Quade was at him again. This time there was something in +the red brute's hand. It rose and fell once--and Mortimer FitzHugh reeled +backward with a moaning cry, swayed for a second or two on his feet, and +fell to the ground. Quade turned. In his hand was a bloody knife. Madness +and passion and the triumphant joy of a demon were in his face as he glared +at his helpless prey. As Aldous crouched lower his shoulder touched one of +the saddles. It slipped from the pile, one of the panniers followed it, and +Quade saw him. There was no longer reason for concealment, and as Quade +stood paralyzed for a moment Aldous sprang forth into the space between him +and Joanne. He heard the cry that broke strangely from her lips but he did +not turn his head. He advanced upon Quade, his head lowered, the long +skinning-knife gleaming in his hand. + +John Aldous knew that words would avail nothing in these last few minutes +between him and Quade. The latter had already hunched himself forward, the +red knife in his hand poised at his waistline. He was terrible. His huge +bulk, his red face and bull neck, his eyes popping from behind their fleshy +lids, and the dripping blade in the shapeless hulk of his hand gave him the +appearance as he stood there of some monstrous gargoyle instead of a thing +of flesh and blood. And Aldous was terrible to look at, but in a way that +wrung a moaning cry from Joanne. His face was livid from the beat of the +rocks; it was crusted with blood; his eyes were partly closed, and what +remained of his shirt was drenched with blood that still ran from the deep +cuts in his arms and shoulders. But it was he who advanced, and Quade who +stood and waited. + +Aldous knew little or nothing of knife-fighting; and he realized, also, +that there was a strange weakness in his arms and body caused by his battle +with the maelstroms in the chasm. But he had wrestled a great deal with the +Indians of the north, who fought as their half-wolf sledgedogs fought, and +he employed their methods now. Slowly and deliberately he began to circle +around Quade, so that Quade became the pivot of that circle, and as he +circled he drew nearer and nearer to his enemy, but never in a frontal +advance. He edged inward, with his knife-arm on the outside. His deadly +deliberateness and the steady glare of his eyes discomfited Quade, who +suddenly took a step backward. + +It was always when the Indian made this step that his opponent darted in; +and Aldous, with this in mind, sprang to the attack. Their knives clashed +in midair. As they met, hilt to hilt, Aldous threw his whole weight against +Quade, darted sidewise, and with a terrific lunge brought the blade of his +knife down between Quade's shoulders. A straight blade would have gone from +back to chest through muscle and sinew, but the knife which Aldous held +scarcely pierced the other's clothes. + +Not until then did he fully realize the tremendous odds against him. The +curved blade of his skinning-knife would not penetrate! His one hope was to +cut with it. He flung out his arm before Quade had fully recovered, and +blind luck carried the keen edge of the knife across his enemy's pouchy +cheek. The blood came in a spurt, and with a terrible cry Quade leaped back +toward the pile of saddles and panniers. Before Aldous could follow his +advantage the other had dropped his knife and had snatched up a four-foot +length of a tepee pole. For a moment he hesitated while the blood ran in a +hot flood down his thick neck. Then with a bellow of rage he rushed upon +Aldous. + +It was no time for knife-work now. As the avalanche of brute strength +descended upon him Aldous gathered himself for the shock. He had already +measured his own weakness. Those ten minutes among the rocks of the chasm +had broken and beaten him until his strength was gone. He was panting from +his first onset with Quade, but his brain was working. And he knew that +Quade was no longer a reasoning thing. He had ceased to think. He was blind +with the passion of the brute, and his one thought was to crush his enemy +down under the weight of the club in his huge hands. Aldous waited. He +heard Joanne's terrified scream when Quade was almost upon him--when less +than five feet separated them. The club was descending when he flung +himself forward, straight for the other's feet. The club crashed over him, +and with what strength he had he gripped Quade at the knees. With a +tremendous thud Quade came to earth. The club broke from the grip of his +hands. For a moment he was stunned, and in that moment Aldous was at his +throat. + +He would have sold the best of his life for the skinning-knife. But he had +lost it in gripping Quade. And now he choked--with every ounce of strength +in him he choked at the thick red neck of his enemy. Quade's hands reached +for his own throat. They found it. And both choked, lying there gasping and +covered with blood! while Joanne struggled vainly to free herself, and +scream after scream rang from her lips. And John Aldous knew that at last +the end had come. For there was no longer strength in his arms, and there +was something that was like a strange cramp in his fingers, while the +clutch at his own throat was turning the world black. His grip relaxed. His +hands fell limp. The last that he realized was that Quade was over him, and +that he must be dying. + +Then it was, as he lay within a final second or two of death, no longer +conscious of physical attack or of Joanne's terrible cries, that a strange +and unforeseen thing occurred. Beyond the tepee a man had risen from the +earth. He staggered toward them, and it was from Marie that the wildest and +strangest cry of all came now. For the man was Joe DeBar! In his hand he +held a knife. Swaying and stumbling he came to the fighters--from behind. +Quade did not see him, and over Quade's huge back he poised himself. The +knife rose; for the fraction of a second it trembled in midair. Then it +descended, and eight inches of steel went to the heart of Quade. + +And as DeBar turned and staggered toward Joanne and Marie, John Aldous was +sinking deeper and deeper into a black and abysmal night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +In that chaotic night in which he was drifting, light as a feather floating +on the wind, John Aldous experienced neither pain nor very much of the +sense of life. And yet, without seeing or feeling, he seemed to be living, +All was dead in him but that last consciousness, which is almost the +spirit; he might have been dreaming, and minutes, hours, or even years +might have passed in that dream. For a long time he seemed to be sinking +through the blackness; and then something stopped him, without jar or +shock, and he was rising. He could hear nothing. There was a vast silence +about him, a silence as deep and as unbroken as the abysmal pit in which he +seemed to be softly floating. + +After a time Aldous felt himself swaying and rocking, as though tossed +gently on the billows of a sea. This was the first thought that took shape +in his struggling brain--he was at sea; he was on a ship in the heart of a +black night, and he was alone. He tried to call out, but his tongue seemed +gone. It seemed a very long time before day broke, and then it was a +strange day. Little needles of light pricked his eyes; silver strings shot +like flashes of weblike lightning through the darkness, and after that he +saw for an instant a strange glare. It was gone in one big, powderlike +flash, and he was in night again. These days and nights seemed to follow +one another swiftly now, and the nights grew less dark, and the days +brighter. He was conscious of sounds and buffetings, and it was very hot. + +Out of this heat there came a cool, soft breeze that was continually +caressing his face, and eyes, and head. It was like the touch of a spirit +hand. It became more and more real to him. It caressed him into a dark and +comfortable oblivion. Out of this oblivion a still brighter day roused him. +His brain seemed clear. He opened his eyes. A white cloud was hovering over +them; it fell softly; it was cool and gentle. Then it rose again, and it +was not a cloud, but a hand! The hand moved away, and he was looking into a +pair of wide-open, staring, prayerful eyes, and a little cry came to him, +and a voice. + +"John--John----" + +He was drifting again, but now he knew that he was alive. He heard +movement. He heard voices. They were growing nearer and more distinct. He +tried to cry out Joanne's name, and it came in a whispering breath between +his lips. But Joanne heard; and he heard her calling to him; he felt her +hands; she was imploring him to open his eyes, to speak to her. It seemed +many minutes before he could do this, but at last he succeeded. And this +time his vision was not so blurred. He could see plainly. Joanne was there, +hovering over him, and just beyond her was the great bearded face of Donald +MacDonald. And then, before words had formed on his lips, he did a +wonderful thing. He smiled. + +"O my God, I thank Thee!" he heard Joanne cry out, and then she was on her +knees, and her face was against his, and she was sobbing. + +He knew that it was MacDonald who drew her away. + +The great head bent over him. + +"Take this, will 'ee, Johnny boy?" + +Aldous stared. + +"Mac, you're--alive," he breathed. + +"Alive as ever was, Johnny. Take this." + +He swallowed. And then Joanne hovered over him again, and he put up his +hands to her face, and her glorious eyes were swimming seas as she kissed +him and choked back the sobs in her throat. He buried his fingers in her +hair. He held her head close to him, and for many minutes no one spoke, +while MacDonald stood and looked down on them. In those minutes everything +returned to him. The fight was over. MacDonald had come in time to save him +from Quade. But--and now his eyes stared upward through the sheen of +Joanne's hair--he was in a cabin! He recognized it. It was Donald +MacDonald's old home. When Joanne raised her head he looked about him +without speaking. He was in the wide bunk built against the wall. Sunlight +was filtering through a white curtain at the window, and in the open door +he saw the anxious face of Marie. + +He tried to lift himself, and was amazed to find that he could not. Very +gently Joanne urged him back on his pillow. Her face was a glory of life +and of joy. He obeyed her as he would have obeyed the hand of the Madonna. +She saw all his questioning. + +"You must be quiet, John," she said, and never had he heard in her voice +the sweetness of love that was in it now. "We will tell you +everything--Donald and I. But you must be quiet. You were terribly beaten +among the rocks. We brought you here at noon, and the sun is setting--and +until now you have not opened your eyes. Everything is well. But you must +be quiet. You were terribly bruised by the rocks, dear." + +It was sweet to lie under the caresses of her hand. He drew her face down +to him. + +"Joanne, my darling, you understand now--why I wanted to come alone into +the North?" + +Her lips pressed warm and soft against his. + +"I know," she whispered, and he could feel her arras trembling, and her +breath coming quickly. Gently she drew away from him. "I am going to make +you some broth," she said then. + +He watched her as she went out of the cabin, one white hand lifted to her +throat. + +Old Donald MacDonald seated himself on the edge of the bunk. He looked down +at Aldous, chuckling in his beard; and Aldous, with his bruised and swollen +face and half-open eyes, grinned like a happy fiend. + +"It was a wunerful, wunerful fight, Johnny!" said old Donald. + +"It was, Mac. And you came in fine on the home stretch!" + +"What d'ye mean--home stretch?" queried Donald leaning over. + +"You saved me from Quade." + +Donald fairly groaned. + +"I didn't, Johnny--I didn't! DeBar killed 'im. It was all over when I come. +On'y--Johnny--I had a most cur'ous word with Culver Rann afore he died!" + +In his eagerness Aldous was again trying to sit up when Joanne appeared in +the doorway. With a little cry she darted to him, forced him gently back, +and brushed old Donald off the edge of the bunk. + +"Go out and watch the broth, Donald," she commanded firmly. Then she said +to Aldous, stroking back his hair, "I forbade you to talk. John, dear, +aren't you going to mind me?" + +"Did Quade get me with the knife?" he asked. + +"No, no." + +"Am I shot?" + +"No, dear." + +"Any bones broken?" + +"Donald says not." + +"Then please give me my pipe, Joanne--and let me get up. Why do you want me +to lie here when I'm strong like an ox, as Donald says?" + +Joanne laughed happily. + +"You _are_ getting better every minute," she cried joyously. "But you were +terribly beaten by the rocks, John. If you will wait until you have the +broth I will let you sit up." + +A few minutes later, when he had swallowed his broth, Joanne kept her +promise. Only then did he realize that there was not a bone or a muscle in +his body that did not have its own particular ache. He grimaced when Joanne +and Donald bolstered him up with blankets at his back. But he was happy. +Twilight was coming swiftly, and as Joanne gave the final pats and turns to +the blankets and pillows, MacDonald was lighting half a dozen candles +placed around the room. + +"Any watch to-night, Donald?" asked Aldous. + +"No, Johnny, there ain't no watch to-night," replied the old mountaineer. + +He came and seated himself on a bench with Joanne. For half an hour after +that Aldous listened to a recital of the strange things that had +happened--how poor marksmanship had saved MacDonald on the mountain-side, +and how at last the duel had ended with the old hunter killing those who +had come to slay him. When they came to speak of DeBar, Joanne leaned +nearer to Aldous. + +"It is wonderful what love will sometimes do," she spoke softly. "In the +last few hours Marie has bared her soul to me, John. What she has been she +has not tried to hide from me, nor even from the man she loves. She was one +of Mortimer FitzHugh's tools. DeBar saw her and loved her, and she sold +herself to him in exchange for the secret of the gold. When they came into +the North the wonderful thing happened. She loved DeBar--not in the way of +her kind, but as a woman in whom had been born a new heart and a new soul +and a new joy. She defied FitzHugh; she told DeBar how she had tricked him. + +"This morning FitzHugh attempted his old familiarity with her, and DeBar +struck him down. The act gave them excuse for what they had planned to do. +Before her eyes Marie thought they had killed the man she loved. She flung +herself on his breast, and she said she could not feel his heart beat, and +his blood flowed warm against her hands and face. Both she and DeBar had +determined to warn us if they could. Only a few minutes before DeBar was +stabbed he had let off his rifle--an accident, he said. But it was not an +accident. It was the shot Donald heard in the cavern. It saved us, John! +And Marie, waiting her opportunity, fled to us in the plain. DeBar was not +killed. He says my screams brought him back to life. He came out--and +killed Quade with a knife. Then he fell at our feet. A few minutes later +Donald came. DeBar is in another cabin. He is not fatally hurt, and Marie +is happy." + +She was stroking his hand when she finished. The curious rumbling came +softly in MacDonald's beard and his eyes were bright with a whimsical +humour. + +"I pretty near bored a hole through poor Joe when I come up," he chuckled. +"But you bet I hugged him when I found what he'd done, Johnny! Joe says +their camp was just over the range from us that night FitzHugh looked us +up, an' Joanne thought she'd been dreamin'. He didn't have any help, but +his intention was to finish us alone--murder us asleep--when Joanne cried +out. Joe says it was just a devil's freak that took 'im to the top of the +mountain alone that night. He saw our fire an' came down to investigate." + +A low voice was calling outside the door. It was Marie. As Joanne went to +her a quick gleam came into old Donald's eyes. He looked behind him +cautiously to see that she had disappeared, then he bent over Aldous, and +whispered hoarsely: + +"Johnny, I had a most cur'ous word with Rann--or FitzHugh--afore he died! +He wasn't dead when I went to him. But he knew he was dyin'; an' Johnny, he +was smilin' an' cool to the end. I wanted to ask 'im a question, Johnny. I +was dead cur'ous to know _why the grave were empty!_ But he asked for +Joanne, an' I couldn't break in on his last breath. I brought her. The +first thing he asked her was how people had took it when they found out +he'd poisoned his father! When Joanne told him no one had ever thought he'd +killed his father, FitzHugh sat leanin' against the saddles for a minit so +white an' still I thought he 'ad died with his eyes open. Then it came out, +Johnny. He was smilin' as he told it. He killed his father with poison to +get his money. Later he came to America. He didn't have time to tell us how +he come to think they'd discovered his crime. He was dyin' as he talked. It +came out sort o' slobberingly, Johnny. He thought they'd found 'im out. He +changed his name, an' sent out the report that Mortimer FitzHugh had died +in the mount'ins. But Johnny, he died afore I could ask him about the +grave!" + +There was a final note of disappointment in old Donald's voice that was +almost pathetic. + +"It was such a cur'ous grave," he said. "An' the clothes were laid out so +prim an' nice." + +Aldous laid his hand on MacDonald's. + +"It's easy, Mac," he said, and he wanted to laugh at the disappointment +that was still in the other's face. "Don't you see? He never expected any +one to dig _into_ the grave. And he put the clothes and the watch and the +ring in there to get rid of them. They might have revealed his identity. +Why, Donald----" + +Joanne was coming to them again. She laid a cool hand on his forehead and +held up a warning finger to MacDonald. + +"Hush!" she said gently, "Your head is very hot, dear, and there must be +no more talking. You must lie down and sleep. Tell John good-night, +Donald!" + +Like a boy MacDonald did as she told him, and disappeared through the cabin +door. Joanne levelled the pillows and lowered John's head. + +"I can't sleep, Joanne," he protested. + +"I will sit here close at your side and stroke your face and hair," she +said gently. + +"And you will talk to me?" + +"No, I must not talk. But, John----" + +"Yes, dear." + +"If you will promise to be very, very quiet, and let me be very quiet----" + +"Yes." + +"I will make you a pillow of my hair." + +"I--will be quiet," he whispered. + +She unbound her hair, and leaned over so that it fell in a flood on his +pillow. With a sigh of contentment he buried his face in the rich, sweet +masses of it. Gently, like the cooling breeze that had come to him in his +hours of darkness, her hand caressed him. He closed his eyes; he drank in +the intoxicating perfume of her tresses; and after a little he slept. + +For many hours Joanne sat at his bedside, sleepless, and rejoicing. + +When Aldous awoke it was dawn in the cabin. Joanne was gone. For a few +minutes he continued to lie with his face toward the window. He knew that +he had slept a long time, and that the day was breaking. Slowly he raised +himself. The terrible ache in his body was gone; he was still lame, but no +longer helpless. He drew himself cautiously to the edge of the bunk and +sat there for a time, testing himself before he got up. He was delighted at +the result of the experiments. He rose to his feet. His clothes were +hanging against the wall, and he dressed himself. Then he opened the door +and walked out into the morning, limping a little as he went. MacDonald was +up. Joanne's tepee was close to the cabin. The two men greeted each other +quietly, and they talked in low voices, but Joanne heard them, and a few +moments later she ran out with her hair streaming about her and went +straight into the arms of John Aldous. + +This was the beginning of the three wonderful days that yet remained for +Joanne and John Aldous in Donald MacDonald's little valley of gold and +sunshine and blue skies. They were strange and beautiful days, filled with +a great peace and a great happiness, and in them wonderful changes were at +work. On the second day Joanne and Marie rode alone to the cavern where +Jane lay, and when they returned in the golden sun of the afternoon they +were leading their horses, and walking hand in hand. And when they came +down to where DeBar and Aldous and Donald MacDonald were testing the +richness of the black sand along the stream there was a light in Marie's +eyes and a radiance in Joanne's face which told again that world-old story +of a Mary Magdalene and the dawn of another Day. And now, Aldous thought, +Marie had become beautiful; and Joanne laughed softly and happily that +night, and confided many things into the ears of Aldous, while Marie and +DeBar talked for a long time alone out under the stars, and came back at +last hand in hand, like two children. Before they went to bed Marie +whispered something to Joanne, and a little later Joanne whispered it to +Aldous. + +"They want to know if they can be married with us, John," she said. "That +is, if you haven't grown tired of trying to marry me, dear," she added with +a happy laugh. "Have you?" + +His answer satisfied her. And when she told a small part of it to Marie, +the other woman's dark eyes grew as soft as the night, and she whispered +the words to Joe. + +The third and last day was the most beautiful of all. Joe's knife wound was +not bad. He had suffered most from a blow on the head. Both he and Aldous +were in condition to travel, and plans were made to begin the homeward +journey on the fourth morning. MacDonald had unearthed another dozen sacks +of the hidden gold, and he explained to Aldous what must be done to secure +legal possession of the little valley. His manner of doing this was +unnatural and strained. His words came haltingly. There was unhappiness in +his eyes. It was in his voice. It was in the odd droop of his shoulders. +And finally, when they were alone, he said to Aldous, with almost a sob in +his voice: + +"Johnny--Johnny, if on'y the gold were not here!" + +He turned his eyes to the mountain, and Aldous took one of his big gnarled +hands in both his own. + +"Say it, Mac," he said gently. "I guess I know what it is." + +"It ain't fair to you, Johnny," said old Donald, still with his eyes on the +mountains. "It ain't fair to you. But when you take out the claims down +there it'll start a rush. You know what it means, Johnny. There'll be a +thousand men up here; an' mebby you can't understand--but there's the +cavern an' Jane an' the little cabin here; an' it seems like desecratin' +_her_." + +His voice choked, and as Aldous gripped the big hand harder in his own he +laughed. + +"It would, Mac," he said. "I've been watching you while we made the plans. +These cabins and the gold have been here for more than forty years without +discovery, Donald--and they won't be discovered again so long as Joe DeBar +and John Aldous and Donald MacDonald have a word to say about it. We'll +take out no claims, Mac. The valley isn't ours. It's Jane's valley and +yours!" + +Joanne, coming up just then, wondered what the two men had been saying that +they stood as they did, with hands clasped. Aldous told her. And then old +Donald confessed to them what was in his mind, and what he had kept from +them. At last he had found his home, and he was not going to leave it +again. He was going to stay with Jane. He was going to bring her from the +cavern and bury her near the cabin, and he pointed out the spot, covered +with wild hyacinths and asters, where she used to sit on the edge of the +stream and watch him while he worked for gold. And they could return each +year and dig for gold, and he would dig for gold while they were away, and +they could have it all. All that he wanted was enough to eat, and Jane, and +the little valley. And Joanne turned from him as he talked, her face +streaming with tears, and in John's throat was a great lump, and he looked +away from MacDonald to the mountains. + +So it came to pass that on the fourth morning, when they went into the +south, they stopped on the last knoll that shut out the little valley from +the larger valley, and looked back. And Donald MacDonald stood alone in +front of the cabin waving them good-bye. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hunted Woman, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 11328.txt or 11328.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/3/2/11328/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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